#this is going to create the loneliest animal of all time

[whowatchesthewolfwatchers]

Hey don’t worry venture capitalists are already on it! It’s gonna be fine, at least one of them saw the movie!

“A Dallas company trying to use ancient genetic material to create modern-day versions of woolly mammoths — a quest aimed at fighting climate change and advancing health care — has raised $75 million from venture capitalists, the billionaire producer of “Jurassic World” and Paris Hilton”

Dear necromancers, why would you bother summoning human corpses when dinosaurs are an option

[bunnyuki]

UNSAID WORDS. toge inumaki

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ) gift for: @darlingspeach

CW!! AFAB READER, she/her pronouns. au fantasy/medieval. toge is a dragon, reader is a human. mentions of slaughtering/people dying/hunting. mentions of blood and injuries. he doesn't understand much of human language. this is very short and silly, i apologize. SFW, FLUFF.

YOU DON’T SEE as many dragons around as you used to. the kings of the earth and the heavens were destroyed by greed. their wings were struck by spears and cannons, their blood was collected and tested as a product. the rich wear their scales at dinner parties, because they become necklaces and delicacies. their teeth became hunters’ trophies. dragons had nothing against humanity, but humans had a desire to have everything. their ruin brought that of other peoples.

and so, the remaining dragons fled. running from the world, choosing the loneliest places to call home. deprived of reliable companions, of their companions with wings, dealing with the losses of their loved ones. nothing was left for them but memories and bones. so disappeared that they became merely legends.

fantastic stories that parents told their children to amaze them, or scare them. false and lying stories for merchants desperate to sell their products cheaply. one of the strongest, most influential and powerful races in the world. reduced to nothing more than tales. a small belief spread among the dragons. humans were dirty. rotten, spoiled. disgusting creatures that cared about nothing. the sick apple that would rot the rest of the basket. by extension, hatred for those creatures that had barely sustained themselves for a century grew. humans who encountered dragons and their treasures did not come out alive to tell the story. and no one heard from them again.

life in a village is not easy. taxes are merciless, and nobles drown in champagne while families in your village count coins to find out if they can eat. you are not exempt from this. the marquis who controls the region is obsessed with more amounts of money. the village has been going through difficulties, and with winter approaching, some have already said their goodbyes. people will die. that is a fact. for the king and his court, nothing more than numbers.

the sweet embrace of death comes to seek everyone, eventually. this is the mortal life. but that’s not how you’ll end up. huddled in a bed, on a cold morning, praying to a god who wouldn’t listen to you. you refuse. that will not be your end.

plantings have been disappointing. food becomes scarcer every day, and from what it looks like, this will be a year with lots of snow and abundant hunger. and for this reason, a good deal of adapted hunting became the main source of food and income.

the local forests are dark, specks in the middle of nowhere that is your village. full of trees and animals that need to hide from people like you. like a squirrel collecting dried fruit and nuts. all you have is a rusty knife, a crossbow with five arrows, and faith. not in god, not in greater forces. all you need is yourself.

the traps you planted exist in strategic points. hidden by grass and branches, abusing the natural environment to create the illusion of safety. merely for a noose to tighten around the body of a small animal, or a bear trap to bend into a cruel bite.

checking the traps daily has become part of the routine. just as many other villagers were forced to adapt, so were you. the skins are usually removed and worn by you. or sold.

instead of finding a small animal split in half by your bear trap, what’s in front of you now is a boy. a young one. maybe your age. his purple eyes seem to contain decades of wisdom you couldn’t dream of. his hair has an abnormal tone, like a very pale shade of blonde. he turns over and groans, his ankle caught in the trap. the metal teeth dig deeper into the flesh every time he moves, and the blood is thick and red.

but what really draws attention to him are his horns. and the tail. highs rising from the forehead and rising, white like the snow that will soon fall, with purplish tips. the same pattern for the long, tail full of scales. his nails are sharper than normal. when he opens his mouth to groan in pain, his teeth look like fangs. around his mouth, there's a strange pattern that doesn't seem to be a painting, but his skin. snake eyes and fangs.

he raises his arms to try to open the trap and free himself. the skin on the forearms has traces of scales of the same whitish tone.

his first instinct seeing you is hissing. actual hissing. like a scared snake, ready to pounce. the reaction of a scared, injured animal. you— pity him.

of course, you shouldn't. legends about dragons make it very clear what they think of your species. this boy would make you a forgotten corpse once he had the chance. but that didn't seem true. he was scared. alone, lost. his ankle caught in a trap that hurt more every moment. contrary to common sense, you choose to put the beast down and follow your instinct. approaching slowly, with your hands raised.

“easy there.” another hiss. it's a clear message. stay away. your steps are slow and you show that you are not holding any weapons. “i'm not going to hurt you. i'll help.”

no matter how sweet and loving you force your voice to be, the distrust in his eyes doesn't go away. you crouch before the stranger, staring for a moment. he is a pretty boy. you can't deny that.

your hands grip the bear trap, and you look him in the eyes. “I'm going to open this, and you're going to take your foot off. all good? on three. one. two. three.”

at the end of the count, you muster the strength your hungry muscles allow you to open the bear trap. the stranger quickly understands the message and moves away from it, allowing you to let the metal go without consequences. his hands release the trap, and it closes again with a click. the metal resonates as it strikes itself. there is fresh blood on his fingers and on the trap, and his face turns to look at the boy.

he's sitting by a tree, grabbing his injured ankle with a groan. you approach slowly again, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“hey. hey, i'm not going to hurt you. okay? i promise. just let me help.” he frowns at your words, his lips parting to reply in a language you do not know. oh, well. this can be complicated.

“i don't— i don't understand.” you pause, moving to sit besides him. he furrows his brows, but doesn't say a word. “can you understand what i am saying?”

by his pout and frown, you think the answer is no. okay. what to do now, then? you quickly point to yourself, pronouncing your name out loud. then again, slowly. he repeats, the sound beautiful on his tongue. his pronunciation is a little bad at first, but the third time he's repeating it, he seems to have understood.

he follows the example, pointing to himself. “toge.” he states, and your eyes narrow.

“toge. okay. i think that's your name. you are injured.” you point out to his ankle, and he stares at you for a moment. if he could speak your language, you are sure he would be sarcastic right now. oh, don't say.

you gesture nervously, trying to sign you wish to help. after almost ten minutes of denying and hesitation, he holds out his injured foot to you. your hands are gentle, and you don't touch the injured area unless you have to. he hisses and groans in pain.

toge stares at you, decided to say something. his lips part, and he sounds confident when he says. “salmon.” you frown.

“what?”

he repeats again. salmon. seaweed. tuna mayonnaise. he only talks about...ingredients? toge is desperately trying to tell you something, confused why you don't understand the message. then it clicks. oh.

“you only know ingredient names. that's all you know in my language.” you murmur. he nods slowly, and you sigh. communicating like this won't be impossible, but it will prove itself as a challenge. but these thoughts are for later. he is injured. because of you.

it's your obligation to help this young dragon — secretly. the people in the village would take every last drop of his blood for gold coins. you'll have to improvise. “okay. uhh. does it hurt much?”

he pauses. “salmon?” another sigh escapes your lips.

this will be complicated.

[prime-knuckles]

Okay, did some more character reference sheets!!

Here’s Gaster’s!

Pronouns: He/Him

Gaster, in the Just Joshin’ AU is Royal Scientist, and very close friend to Queen Toriel, who treats him like a son.

He expresses personality traits of both his sons (Bravery and Integrity), but his sons developed their own personalities as they grew.

He maintains the core, and develops weaponry- including improving the Gaster Blasters, as well as adapting new methods of using said blasters (arm-cannons, mainly).

His relationship with Alphys is very sweet, they’re close friends, and Alphys often acts almost like an aunt towards his children. They are a tight-knit work pair, and often rant to one another about work, or anything outside of it (including anime Alphys enjoys or Gaster talking about his boys).

I mentioned in one of the drawings above that Gaster can get melt-y with strong emotion (positive or negative), but it usually only occurs in his face (which is regularly unguarded when he is around the core).

And he often ends up looking like this.

Achievements:

• Creation of the core. From a young age, Gaster showed brilliance in science, especially after the last bits of skeleton-kind slowly started to fade from existence under the harshness that followed the Human and Monster War. He was the third generation that was brought into the world beneath the surface. Up to that point, monsters of all shapes and sizes had struggled to survive, populations dwindling. His parents succumbed to the harsh environment, resulting in him turning to science. He had blueprints of the core decided by the time he was 16. Thermo-energy conversion through an elaborate, state-of-the-art machine that could convert it into magic-energy and provide the underground with everything it needed.

• Dividing a soul. While the process of the core was continuous even by the point he was 20, he had gone off and started experimenting on the side. He was lonely, his species dwindling to nothing but himself. And one, after all, if the loneliest number. In this loneliness, he impulsively decided to try a form of DNA cloning. He took a fragment of his soul, and a section from his hand, and combined them. Splicing the two elements together in a magic fluid (I don’t have a name for it yet, I’m not a science nerd, just sleep deprived), he was able to replicate conception, and thus Sans was created. But, of course, the first try doesn’t always go so smoothly. His perfect bundle of joy had flaws, including a cracked soul, and low HP.

• Creation of the Gaster Blaster. A weapon bearing his namesake. As more magic started getting produced by the core, Gaster was free to indulge in more straining projects, which lead to developments in weapons… strictly for his use. Of course, when they were first created, summoning them with magic was hard, and often resulted in exhaustion- or they wouldn’t come out correctly. So, he found methods to make them easier to summon, including size adjustments that fit the monster who used them.

• More efficient soul-splitting. Around 8 years after his first attempt, the more clever Gaster tried a second time at replicating his soul-splitting technique. Carefully taking a fragment of his soul- and a piece of his hand, he replicated what he had done with Sans, but this time, he placed forth more measurements, precisely determined how much of his soul would be needed in order for a new life to generate without flaws. And Papyrus was created!

- Of course, Papyrus is still shorter than Gaster by a significant amount (~8 inches when Gaster isn’t in heels), and that’s due to the fact that the splitting method constricts some development, no matter how perfectly executed. While there was no noticeable flaws with Papyrus like there was Sans when he was growing up, the lack of height indicated that there was no way to perfect such an extreme science without using half a soul with each child (which Gaster couldn’t do alone for obvious reasons. Single dad life).*

• DT Extractor. A project credited to both Gaster and Alphys, they had created the Extractor in order to extract determination from human souls. Prolonged exposure to the Extractor often had side effects. For him, it’s occasionally melting. For Alphys? You’ll find that out when I post her character sheet hehe.

-

And of course, the Great Papyrus!!

Pronouns: He/She

In the Just Joshin’ AU, Papyrus is just as sweet and energetic as classic, but he is a bit nervous, and very shy! But, he’s smarter than a lot of monsters give him credit for.

He is very talented in puzzle-making, and had shown great interest in it since he was a child, some of his earliest memories being making puzzles and macaroni art.

His interest in the guard came from his teen years, when his first exposure to it had clued him in on what it was about. Trainees were moving through Snowdin during a training protocol, lead by Undyne, marching them through, explaining Sentry duties, and what it meant to be a guard (and he was enthralled), because not only was the Captain of the Royal Guard there, she had been the one who hired Sans in the sentry station of Hotlands.

The crack in his skull that he inherited from Gaster is far less obvious than Sans’, and that is mainly due to the fact that he had… been created more correctly than his older brother.

Achievements:

• Being the monster in the underground who’s best at making spaghetti (and like Classic, he never eats it).

• Having the most elaborate puzzle systems outside of the ruins.

• Somehow being the most unknown of the skeletons in the underground despite being the loudest.

-

General Information about the skeleton species:

* I added this symbol when talking about Gaster because I wanted to explain more about my idea of the skeleton species and what happened.

Skeletons had always been a strong staple of monster culture, their beings were naturally pure magic, and most were born and taught to speak Wing-Ding. Of course, others would learn sign language to communicate with other monsters, some was multi-lingual, learning to communicate with other monsters.

Gaster learned Wing-Ding and Sign.

Sans and Papyrus know all three.

Anyway, skeletons were on the brink of extinction by the time the third generation (around 200 years since the war) was born in the underground, population having steadily and harshly plummeted.

There was a lack of food, which steadily started making it hard to live- even with magic and partial immortality. Other conditions, much like fighting between monsters, rebellions, and uprisings often resulted in skeletons- who were easily close to nobles- being killed.

Most skeletons, over such conditions, were hesitant to have children, which resulted in fewer being created, especially where most waited until they were 50-100 years old before even considering having a child. If any other skeletons had been alive when Gaster split his soul the first time at 20, they would think he was mad.

Skeletons were a noble species, as I mentioned. They were fancy and lived large, until restrictions were placed on the underground, and gold was starting to get harder to come upon. That hadn’t stopped them from being close to one another, many of the elders (who at the time of the birth of the third generation were easily 100s of years old themselves), shared stories of the war, and how they had to fight along the frontlines in order to repel humans enough for monsters to retreat safely.

No humans life had been taken in the battle, at least none any monster could recall. They were always playing defense while humans were the offensive.

Then it came to the last few skeletons. Things had gotten worse in the span of the third generation. Skeletons were now considered prime targets to hunt, their dust worth its weight in gold.

Gaster’s parents suffered the fate, and Gaster had ran blindly into wherever he could to hide. In his panic, he tried to alter his face with magic (which is why he doesn’t have a nasal opening), but the magic resulted in some harsh cracks along his skull- as he was too young to be using such strong magic (~13 years old).

And in his panic, he had blindly ran towards the palace, intending to hide away within the vast expanse- only to be caught by the guards and dragged to queen Toriel.

Skeletons involvement with Royalty:

Even before Gaster, skeletons had been close with those on the throne since the times before the war. Asgore and Queen Toriel had always held a kindness towards them, the skeletons being one of the most intelligent species of monster to ever touch the Earth.

They worked peacefully amongst each other, skeletons always advancing their sciences as far as they could go because they had no other limitations than being tired or hungry.

A skeleton has no brain, so where is its capacity to think? Its infinite.

Gaster, noticed to Toriel as the last skeleton, became very close to the queen, often clinging close to her, and always going over his ideas. She recognized his excellence, and how he excels in science and gave him an early apprenticeship in the field when he was 14.

-

Alright, I’m sure this post is long enough, lol, more character sheets coming soon!

[astrronomemes]

ON EARTH WE'RE BRIEFLY GORGEOUS: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 2019 Ocean Vuong novel, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous. change & alter as needed.

"Grab your coat. I'll get you McDonald's."

"You have to get bigger and stronger, okay?"

"The human eye is God's loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil, and still, it holds nothing."

"A survivor is the last one to come home."

"To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once."

"You're a monster. But so am I — which is why I can't turn away from you."

"They say that trauma affects not only the brain, but the body, too — its musculature, joints, and posture."

"Stop crying! You're always crying!"

"Whether we want to or not, we are traveling in a spiral. We are creating something new from what is gone."

"Theories are for people with too much time and not enough determination."

"I don't know if you're happy, [name]. I never asked."

"It is a beautiful country, depending on where you look."

"It is a beautiful country, because you are still breathing."

"It is a beautiful country, because you are still in it."

"There are no animals here but us."

"Everything good is somewhere else, baby, I'm telling you. Everything."

"The most useful thing one can do with empty hands is hold on."

"I'm not scared of dying anymore."

"I fucking hate my dad."

"This is my superpower — to make a dark even darker than what's around me."

"What do you call the animal that, finding the hunter, offers itself to be eaten?"

"Sometimes, being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined."

"Do you remember the happiest day of your life? What about the saddest?"

"Do you think we'll still hang out when we're a hundred?"

"I don't like girls."

"I can leave, [name]. If you don't want me, I can go. I won't be a problem, and nobody has to know."

"For the first time in a long time, I'm trying to believe in heaven. In a place we can be together after all this blows over."

"They say every snowflake is different. But the blizzard, it covers us all the same."

"I don't celebrate my birthday anymore."

"They say nothing lasts forever, but they're just scared it will last longer than they can love it."

"I think I just deep-throated an invisible cock."

"I miss you more than I remember you."

"Too much joy, I swear, is lost in our desperation to keep it."

"If there's a heaven, I think it looks like this."

"Maybe in the next life, we'll meet each other for the first time — believing in everything but the harm we're capable of."

"Don't cry on me again. Don't you cry on me now."

"What have we become to each other if not what we've done to each other?"

"What are we if not what the light says we are?"

"All this time, I told myself we were born from war. But I was wrong, [name]. We were born from beauty."

"They say if you want something bad enough, you'll end up making a god out of it."

"I know you believe in reincarnation. I don't know if I do, but I hope it's real. Because then maybe you'll come back here next time around."

[originalwinnercheesecake]

The hexside gang as pokemon trainers

I have been getting back into pokemon lately, and (possibly since I already looked up/ explored palisman with every single character) I have recently been fixated on what pokemon would be on the kids in the owl houses team if they were pokemon trainers. I did a post before with several of the secondary character. Here is the main kids.

Luz Noceda

Luz was and easy on to create a pokemon team for. For one, like Boscha, she is an animal lover, and we have a pretty good idea as to what her favorites are. Also the show gave traits of her character a lot of focus and I can easily pick out and translate them into Pokemon

Solrock. Luz’s name means light, the Light gliph was her first gliph (and her only one in 1a), and her defining trait has always been having an lighthearted and optimistic attitude. So of course Solrock would be on her team, probably her starter.

Secondly she would have a HootHoot (representing Owlbert); so actually it would be Eda’s HootHoot. But, remember how that before her egg hatched Eda frequently allowed Luz to use her staff, and Owlbert spent a lot of time helping watch over Luz? This HootHoot would do the same.

Now going into Luz’s being an animal lover. In the show she has a large fondness for Snakes, Bat’s, and Otters. So with that in mind I am going to give her a Dratini as her snake. It will also be her strongest pokemon, and looks a fair bit like String bean, a Golbat to be her areal aid (every protagonist needs eyes in the sky), and a Buizel.

Lastly to complete her team, represent Luz’s desire to chose her own path, and represent Stringbean in ideology while Dratini represents them in looks, Luz’s final pokemon would be a Shiny Ditto that she hatched from an egg. She found the egg with Eda, cared for the egg with Camila, and I found ways to link it too Vee and Hunter (Vee has a regular ditto, Hunter’s link is below) so it represents basically all her family relationships. 

Luz’s team: Solrock, Hoothoot (borrowed frequently from Eda), Dratini, Golbat, Buizel, and Shiny Ditto. She wants to be a Pokemon Master like Ash.

Amity Blight

First she would of course have a Muk. It would totally have been her starter, and it would still be her strongest pokemon to date. I think Alador would have given her a baby Grimer when she started getting really into abominations, and it would have been a true companion to her during the times when she didn’t really have any friends she chose herself, and her family were all growing estranged from each other.

Secondly she has a shuppet. Amity would want a ghost pokmon, given that her style is kinda goth/punk. Shuppets seek out people dealing with a lot of negative emotions and absorb them. One easily could have latched on to Amity in her early days, and is another pokemon she would have kept for companionship during her loneliest times.

A letter “A” Unknown: Amity’s love of books, and literature, and phrases is a big part of her character. She is totally the type who would find and catch an Unknown while archiving files or reading to kids at the library.

An Alolan Persian. Representing Ghost. A persian instead of a meowth because I think Amity is a strong enough trainer to have a persian. Alolan because I gave Matty an Alolan pokemon on my secondary characters list and wanted to give one to a more prominent character too. Both Matty and Amity are Tusundere characters, and we have some scenes that hint that, in a longer show, these two could have been really good friends. So they can have the connection of both training Alolan pokemon.

In season 2 we see Amity start to change her style to be less her mother’s taste and more her own. She seems to like wearing Moon symbols and going out at night. So for that I will give her a Lunatone. This also connects to Luz’s Solrock, Luz and Amity are the Sun and the Moon to each other, and the pair would totally use Lunatone and Solrock to fight in team battles.

Finishing off her team Amity still needs a water pokemon. She is voiced by Mae Whitman, and as the series progressed the show capitalized on Ms.Whitman being known as Katara’s voice actress, by making Amity’s style of Abomination magic more similar to water bending. Amity also  still needs a hard hitting pokemon, prefably one that wears mittens/gloves, because her brawler alias is “The Mighty Mittens”... So her last pokemon shall be a pollywhirl to fulfill both.

Amity Blight’s team: Muk, Shuppet, Letter “A” Unkown, Alolan Persian, Lunatone, Pollywhirl. She is a pokemon trainer Like Luz. Her mom probably puts a lot of pressure on her to join one of the big money organizations, like team Rocket or Team Magma etc.. Amity’s fight is that she wants to chose the training/battle path for herself and her pokemon.

Willow Park

Willow was by far the easiest owl house character to design a team for because she would obviously favor grass types.

the first grass type (Willow’s starter) would have would be a Ivysaur. Can’t go wrong with a classic, especially when its one as mighty and powerful as the baulbasaur line. I am placing hers at its second evolution both show all the work she would put into training it, and how far she could go with it. (Little extra info: on my secondary characters team I gave Boshca a Charmealon, and I like to think the pair’s pokemon have a rivalry too).

After Ivysaur I picked three other grass pokemon that all resembled different types of plant life. My picks were Weapinbell, Cacturn, and Cradlily. Cradlily also has a connection to Hunter since I gave them both fossil pokemon.

Then I had to give her a Beedrill because of Clover

Lastly even though grass pokemon would be her favorite type, I did want to give her one water type pokemon, because watering plants is an important part of botany. I picked Marel because its pudgy and cute like Willow

Willow’s team are Ivysaur, Weepinbell, Cacturn, Cradlilly, Beedrill, and Marel. Look Willow would clearly be a gym leader at a grass gym. Her four grass type are who she uses to battle challenging trainers. But her gym probably has a greenhouse/garden out back and that’s where Beedrill and Marel live. They help her garden.

Gus Porter

So I am thinking that illusion magic would translate best into certain types of psychic pokemon, so that is what I based his team on.

Two psychic types I found that have ability's similar to illusion acts Gus has done are Stantler (one stantler can create an illusion of a whole herd) and Drowzee (its dream powers and Gus’s mindscape projection trick...). Then Gus would have a Mime Junior because it is small, theatrics, and adorable, just like him. Next speaking of pokemon that were also owned by team rocket, Gus said (quite proudly) once that he comes from a long line of dweebuses. So it is only right to give him the most lovable dweeb of a pokemon of all time: Wobbuffet

For a powerhouse on his team I really wanted Gus to have a psychic/Fighting type. He is a tough fighter. So I went with Slowbrow (also its a lizard so I can say it represents Emmeline)

Lastly I am giving him a Geodude. Matt’s team has an alolan geodude on my other list. I wanted to do some kinda link with the boys, and finally just decided that after getting to know Matt’s pokemon, and then seeing a wild geodude the graveyard or somewhere, Gus caught it and now he and Matt train theirs together.

 Oh one more things real quick: I debated back and forth over switching Gus’s Stantler out with a Girafarig, but ultimately when i read its stat’s and abilities it seemed like a pokemon that would be more inline with someone from the Oracle track than an illusionist. Maybe Gus’s father has one.

Gus’s team are Stantler, Drowzee,Mime Junior, Wobbuffet, and Geodude. Like with Willow I see Gus becoming a Psychic pokemon Gym Leader one day (Let’s have him overthrow Gray)

Hunter Wittebane/Demmone

Okay here we go. So I spent days searching the web for a cardinal pokemon. Fletchinder was the closest thing I could find, so Hunter’s first pokemon is a Fletchinder. Next up Hunter likes wolves, so I am giving him a Poochyena since it looks so realistic to a real wolf (and a lot like the ones one hunters shirt). I am giving him a pup because this is a relatively new interest and it needs nurturing

Then he would have two fighting types since marital arts and combat skills were how he fought/protected himself without magic. I also will do one in baby form (because Hunter is still a child), and one fully evolved (because Hunter is such a practiced and skilled martial artist). I am thinking Hitmonlee and a Riolu. Both those are martial art style fighters, and move in ways sorta similar to Hunter

Then he Has a Shiny Kaputops. like him it comes from a fossil, and Shiny ones have golden armor (like the golden guard). I also am drawing links to his relationship with Luz (the two trainers I gave shines to) and Willow (Both have fossil pokemon).

Rounding out his team is an Absol. Because of Absol’s lore and legacy: appearing in disasters, some see it as a bringer of disaster and a bad pokemon. In truth it’s good and will help in disasters if possible.

P.S. So I originally made this list before Watching and Dreaming came out. When I saw Waffles at the end I really wanted to give Hunter a Taillow, to represent her too. The only thing is though, Hunter cannot have more than 6 pokemon on his team. I tried to rationalize replacing one of his fighting pokemon away, or the Poochyena, but I couldn’t. I still consider my reasons for giving him the two fighting types valid. And I cannot take Poochyena away after watching Hunter get so excited to talk to his new dad and uncle about wolves.  Waffles was picked to be a a sister to flapjack, and to spiritually continue hunters journey. So with all that in mind I could only see Hunter getting a Taillow after mourning Fletchinder if it died saving him, the same way Flapjack did. Fletchinder would have been just as loved, and just as missed.

Hunter’s team are Fletchinder, Poochyena, Hitmonlee, Riolu, a Shiny Kaputos, and Absol, Taillow I am going to say that Hunter starts out working high up in Team Rocket or one of the Pokemon Poacher Groups. Then, after finding the strength to leave, he joins the Pokemon Rangers, who protect wild pokemon from those who would do them harm

[a-captions-blog]

[Image descriptions and plain text:

1. Tumblr post with two reblogs: mindfulWrath: honestly “I’ll do whatever you want” “then perish” is the single most powerful exchange possible in the english language and it’s from some bizarre “hewwo” obama rp falling-towers: And there was that other post where someone dreamt that Obama said “violence for violence is the rule of beasts” like what is it about Obama that makes people come up with such raw fucking dialogue for him TwoFingersWhiskey: my mother had a dream where he lived in the forest and she had a cigarette with him and he said “to become god is the loneliest achievement of them all” and put it out and walked into the mist and I’ve never fucking forgotten that

2. “I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.”– Joshua Graham, Who Is A Fallout New Vegas NPC, Something Most People Throwing This Quote Around Don’t Realize

3. “If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight like I always have.”– Shadow the Hedgehog in what is widely considered one of if not the single worst game in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise

4. Tweet by wint @ dril that says in all caps, ‘If the zoo bans me for hollering at the animals I will face god and walk backwards into hell.’

5. Edited comic panel showing Donald Duck talking to Mickey Mouse. Donald says, ‘Everything that we know and love is reducible to the absurd acts of chemicals, and there is therefore no instrinsic value in this material universe.’ Mickey replies, ‘Hypocrite that you are, for you trust the chemicals in your brain to tell you they are chemicals. All knowledge is ultimately based on that which we cannot prove. Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?’

6. Quote by Ultimate Warrior that says, ‘Every man’s heart one day beats its final beat. His lungs breathe their final breath. And if what that man did in his life makes the blood pulse through the body of others and makes them bleed deeper in something that’s larger than life, then his essence, his spirit, will be immortalized by the storytellers.’

7. A gif of a person asking, ‘Do you think god stays in heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he’s created?’

8. 4chan post that says, ‘But what is stopping you? Best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. Second best time is today.’

9. Quote by Nick Nolle that says, ‘Nobody likes to change. There will always be resistance to change, and there always will be change. And the quicker you get to that, the easier it is. It’s not such a difficult thing. If you entrench yourself and go, ‘By God, I will not change, I will not have this.’ Then, you’re a dead man. We’re great at adaptability. It’s our strongest suit.’

10. Quote by Arin Hanson that says, ‘You’ve got to make a statement. You’ve got to look inside yourself and say: “What am I willing to put up with today?”’

11. Quote by Danny Sexbang that says, ‘Whenever you look at another creator or an artist that you respect, you're only seeing what took them a long time of work and doubt to push through. You never see the struggle behind it. So you think you're the only one struggling, when in fact, everyone goes through it.’

12. Fallout screenshot of Thomas Hildern saying, ‘Too many people have opinions on things they know nothing about. And the more ignorant they are, the more opinions they have.’

13. Quote by Paarthurnax that says, ‘What is better – to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort.’

14. “Pick a god and pray.” -Fredrick from Fire Emblem Awakening

15. Quote by MewTwo that says, ‘I see now that the circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant: it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.’

16. Animal Crossing screenshot of Katrina saying, ‘And remember that bad times...are just times that are bad.’

17. Tumblr post with three reblogs: personsonable: me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: [in all caps] I’m not fucking scared of you MiaIsLying: Hey OP? What the [word in caps: fuck] does this mean? Personsonable: decay exists as an extant form of life MiaIsLying: That’s a terrifying answer, have a nice day

18. Quote by Griffin Mcelroy that says, ‘When someone leaves your life, those exits are not made equal. Some are beautiful and poetic and satisfying. Others are abrubt and unfair. But most are just unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy.’

19. “You want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one.” - Technoblade from Dream SMP

20. We deserve a soft epilogue, my love - A Stucky fanfiction

21. Tumblr chain: MishaToesies: “if no art makes you feel anything, make your own art and feel something” is too raw of a line to have come from a jenna marbles video of her painting a rainbow/polka dot seahorse saying “it’s seahorse time” on a denim jacket StarSeekrr: [photo of the jacket with the seahorse] GreenyCrimson: Why do you people feel profound thought has to come from high places? The gutter looks at the stars too.

22. Haiku Bot: Grandma Arbuckle reading a love letter in A Garfield Christmas. Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

23. YouTube comment by BrianRusk37 that says, ‘”If violence was to ever be considered a work of art, this place would be the damn Sistine Chapel” is such a raw line and I can’t believe it comes from a video about pokemon.’ The comment has 689 likes including one by the creator. \End ID]

“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos

[notepagescribbles]

#10

Space is cold.

Our knees touch on the bus.

Because space is a vaccum, there are no particles to vibrate. Even if you somehow managed to light a candle in space, without any oxygen to burn, the area around it would be cold, because there would be no particles to heat.

This is the same reason you can't hear or create sound in space.

I don't know who moves away first. The bus is cold. Your knee was warm against mine.

The boundary between the end of Earth and the start of Space is an imaginary line 100 kilometres up. This means the highest particle on earth is about 100 kilometres up. It doesn't stop abruptly. The particles peater out, getting further and further away from each other as the atmosphere gets thinner. You can't breathe at this point. One particle up there is the very highest, even if by 0.0001 of a nanometer. This particle would be the scientifically loneliest naturally occuring particle in the world.

My room is dark and quiet. It's better that way. I turn on the TV but everything sounds like garbled static. Nobody answers. I wasn't talking to begin with. There's comfort in silence.

Scientists think that every atom in every galaxy in every universe comes from the Big Bang. That means you came from the Big Bang and so does she and so does every person and animal and plant around you. Everything is a regurgitation of the same matter blending in and out of itself, pushing and pulling at itself, tasting itself and walking on itself and creating itself into something new again and again and again.

Because of the Big Bang, the universe is expanding. This means everything ever created is pushing away from each other, exponentially, all the time. If we were to travel to the edge of the universe now, it would take longer than it would yesterday, or last week or last year or 100 millenia ago. The longer we wait to go, the harder it will be. Now, the edge of the observable universe is about 270,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 miles away. If you drive at a steady 65 miles per hour, it will take you 480,000,000,000,000,000 — that’s 4.8 × 10¹⁷ — years to get there, or 35 million times the current age of the universe.

I have a penpal on Mars. I write to her everyday. She doesn't always reply. I can't always make out the Martian runes on the paper, but they look nice. I'd like to meet her, but I don't think I could withstand the gravity. I know that she drinks water like I do. There's water on Mars.

The rocket carrying our mail flies 225 million kilometres each day either way in nanoseconds. We talk at the speed of light. We could talk faster if I found my words more quickly. I wonder if she minds. I wonder if the letters on the page just look like shapes to her. I hope she think they look nice. I send her a picture of autumn leaves, and she sends me a picture of a picnic in a dust storm. We've solved light travel in an apocalypse. I'll never see her face, but sometimes I hear her, soft garbling I don't understand between the static on TV.

I nudge you at the bus stop. "Look at the stars." You can see the big dipper. In thousands of years, it won't look like a wheelbarrow anymore. There are clouds building over the grocery store. We get on a jam-packed bus to the edge of the universe holding hands. Space is a vaccum. I can't tell you what I'm trying to say, because there are no particles to vibrate with my words. I smile instead. I give you my gloves.

Space is cold and black and infinite. I watch Saturn shining through the window.

I left the TV on at home.

Tell me, can you hear it?

[confusedsoulrambles]

Reading ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’ by Ocean Vuong (tabbed quotation - part 1)

‘I am writing because they told me to never start a sentence with because. But I wasn’t trying to make a sentence—I was trying to break free. Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.’

‘Out my window this morning, just before sunrise, a deer stood in a fog so dense and bright that the second one, not too far away, looked like the unfinished shadow of the first.’

‘You can color that in. You can call it “The History of Memory.”’

‘Every history has more than one thread, each thread a story of division.’

‘What is a country but a borderless sentence, a life?... What is a country but a life sentence?’

‘How, in my screeching delight, I forgot to say Thank you.’

‘I was having a panic attack. And you knew it. For a while you said nothing, then started to hum the melody to “Happy Birthday.” It was not my birthday but it was the only song you knew in English, and you kept going. And I listened, the phone pressed so hard to my ear that, hours later, a pink rectangle was still imprinted on my cheek.’

‘Monarchs that survived the migration passed this message down to their children. The memory of family members lost from the initial winter was woven into their genes.’

‘When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?’

‘You once told me that the human eye is god’s loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil and still it holds nothing. The eye, alone in its socket, doesn’t even know there’s another one, just like it, an inch away, just as hungry, as empty.’

‘What do we mean when we say survivor? Maybe a survivor is the last one to come home, the final monarch that lands on a branch already weighted with ghosts.’

‘What I really wanted to say was that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.’

‘To say possessing a heartbeat is never as simple as the heart’s task of saying yes yes yes to the body.’

‘How I fled my shitty high school to spend my days in New York lost in library stacks, reading obscure texts by dead people, most of whom never dreamed a face like mine floating over their sentences—and least of all that those sentences would save me.’

‘In the village where Lan grew up, a child, often the smallest or weakest of the flock, as I was, is named after the most despicable things: demon, ghost child, pig snout, monkey-born, buffalo head, bastard—little dog being the more tender one. Because evil spirits, roaming the land for healthy, beautiful children, would hear the name of something hideous and ghastly being called in for supper and pass over the house, sparing the child. To love something, then, is to name it after something so worthless it might be left untouched—and alive. A name, thin as air, can also be a shield. A Little Dog shield.’

‘I came to know, in those afternoons, that madness can sometimes lead to discovery, that the mind, fractured and short-wired, is not entirely wrong.’

‘“Hey.” The jowlboy leaned in, his vinegar mouth on the side of my cheek. “Don’t you ever say nothin’? Don’t you speak English?” He grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He was only nine but had already mastered the dialect of damaged American fathers.’

‘Some people say history moves in a spiral, not the line we have come to expect. We travel through time in a circular trajectory, our distance increasing from an epicenter only to return again, one circle removed.’

‘The past never a fixed and dormant landscape but one that is re-seen. Whether we want to or not, we are traveling in a spiral, we are creating something new from what is gone.’

‘None of us spoke as we checked out, our words suddenly wrong everywhere, even in our mouths.’

‘No object is in a constant relationship with pleasure, wrote Barthes. For the writer, however, it is the mother tongue. But what if the mother tongue is stunted? What if that tongue is not only the symbol of a void, but is itself a void, what if the tongue is cut out? Can one take pleasure in loss without losing oneself entirely?’

‘Our mother tongue, then, is no mother at all—but an orphan... Ma, to speak in our mother tongue is to speak only partially in Vietnamese, but entirely in war.’

‘Two languages cancel each other out, suggests Barthes, beckoning a third. Sometimes our words are few and far between, or simply ghosted. In which case the hand, although limited by the borders of skin and cartilage, can be that third language that animates where the tongue falters.’

‘For a moment almost too brief to matter, this made sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, made something like the word family.’

‘for how can there be a private space if there is no safe space, if a boy’s name can both shield him and turn him into an animal at once?’

‘Because gunshots, lies, and oxtail—or whatever you want to call your god—should say Yes over and over, in cycles, in spirals, with no other reason but to hear itself exist. Because love, at its best, repeats itself. Shouldn’t it?’

‘You were born, the woman thinks, because no one else was coming. Because no one else is coming, she begins to hum.’

‘It’s a beautiful country, she’s been told, depending on who you are.’

‘A woman stands on the shoulder of a dirt road begging, in a tongue made obsolete by gunfire, to enter the village where her house sits, has sat for decades. It is a human story. Anyone can tell it. Can you tell? Can you tell the rain has grown heavy, its keystrokes peppering the blue shawl black?’

‘But which land? Which border that was crossed and erased, divided and rearranged?’

‘A world where there are no soldiers or Hueys and the woman is only going for a walk in the warm spring evening, where she speaks real soft to her daughter, telling her the story of a girl who ran away from her faceless youth only to name herself after a flower that opens like something torn apart.’

‘The white-haired man raises a glass and makes a toast, grins. Five other glasses are lifted to meet his, the light falls in each shot because the law says so. The shots are held by arms that belong to men who will soon cut open the macaque’s skull with a scalpel, open it like a lid on a jar. The men will take turns consuming the brain, dipped in alcohol or swallowed with cloves of garlic from a porcelain plate, all while the monkey kicks beneath them. The fishing rod cast and cast but never hitting water. The men believe the meal will rid them of impotence, that the more the monkey rages, the stronger the cure. They are doing this for the future of their genes—for the sake of sons and daughters.’

‘The brain of the macaque monkey is the closest, of any mammal, to a human’s.’

‘Macaques are capable of self-doubt and introspection, traits once thought attributable only to humans. Some species have displayed behavior indicating the use of judgment, creativity, even language. They are able to recall past images and apply them to current problem solving. In other words, macaques employ memory in order to survive.’

‘Who will be lost in the story we tell ourselves? Who will be lost in ourselves? A story, after all, is a kind of swallowing.’

‘The rain keeps on because nourishment, too, is a force.’

‘Everything good is always somewhere else’

‘We sidestep ourselves in order to move forward.’

‘1964: When commencing his mass bombing campaign in North Vietnam, General Curtis LeMay, then chief of staff of the US Air Force, said he planned on bombing the Vietnamese “back into the Stone Ages.” To destroy a people, then, is to set them back in time. The US military would end up releasing over ten thousand tons of bombs in a country no larger than the size of California—surpassing the number of bombs deployed in all of WWII combined.’

‘I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess what I mean is that sometimes I don’t know what or who we are. Days I feel like a human being, while other days I feel more like a sound. I touch the world not as myself but as an echo of who I was. Can you hear me yet? Can you read me?’

‘When I first started writing, I hated myself for being so uncertain, about images, clauses, ideas, even the pen or journal I used. Everything I wrote began with maybe and perhaps and ended with I think or I believe.’

‘Sometimes we are given only two choices. While doing research, I read an article from an 1884 El Paso Daily Times, which reported that a white railroad worker was on trial for the murder of an unnamed Chinese man. The case was ultimately dismissed. The judge, Roy Bean, cited that Texas law, while prohibiting the murder of human beings, defined a human only as White, African American, or Mexican. The nameless yellow body was not considered human because it did not fit in a slot on a piece of paper. Sometimes you are erased before you are given the choice of stating who you are.’

‘What a terrible life, I think now, to have to move so fast just to stay in one place.’

[staticscreenwriting]

The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff. 

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget. 

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement. 

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier. 

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs. 

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child. 

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands. 

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance. 

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother. 

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement. 

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment. 

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd. 

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over. 

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

 He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she’s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “ 

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “ 

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.” 

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “ 

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “ 

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “ 

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie. 

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place. 

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors. 

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper. 

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “ 

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “ 

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous. 

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds. 

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls. 

“ Millennium Falcon playset.” 

“ You and a million other little boys. “ 

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face. 

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street.  “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity. 

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

[marshmallowprotection]

it’s the Guardian of The Mortal Plane’s turn! uwu

Next is Guardian of The Heavenly Plane. I’ll explain what the Hellish and Heavenly Planes are when I get to the Plane’s respective guardians. Because the Heavenly and Hellish Planes are not exactly what you think they are. Because remember everyone goes through reincarnation after they die-…right? hehehehe- ok it’s complicated I’ll say more when I get to Guardian of The Heavenly Plane.

Name: Crimson #192

 Aliases (If Any): Hina (Preferred Name)

Guardian of The Mortal Plane (Title/Alias)

 Age: Several Billions of Years Old (Chronologically In The Twelfth World)

1 Year Old (Chronologically In Cela’s World)

Looks 19-21ish

 Date of Birth/Birthday: May 12th, 1816 (Redayan Birthday)

Day 12 of Nymeria’s Star, ??? (Twelfth World Birthday)

 Zodiac: Taurus

 Status: Alive

 Species: Artificial (“Super”) Human (Redayan)

 Magic: ???

 Height: 5'3 (162 Centimeters)

 Ethnicity: ???

 Relatives: Cela (Creator)

191 Previous Versions Of Herself (Siblings(?) Their All Dead Tho)

 Birth Place: Redaya, Shoa

 Nationality/Current Residence: Portal Island, Twelfth World

 Religion (Which Goddess Do they Worship?): None/Atheist

 Occupation: Guardian of The Mortal Plane

192nd Attempt By Cela In Creating a “Super” Human

Only Successful Attempt By Cela In Creating a “Super” Human

 Affiliations: Redaya

Cela

Personality: Awkward, Shy, Nervous, Socially Inept, Just Adorable, And Dorky

(Sometimes Is) Serious, Kind of Scary, Creepy, Stoic, Cold

Marital Status: Single

 Sexuality: Heterosexual/Romantic

 Likes: Sweets, Being Treated Like An Actual Human, Lollipops (They’re, Like, Her Signature Item Or Something), Flowers

 Dislikes: Being Treated As If She Weren’t Human,  Being Treated Like a Tool, Spicy Foods, Bitter Foods, Cela (In Secret)

 Role: Secondary Character

Debut: Undecided

 Backstory: Crimson #192, or “Hina” as she prefers to be called, is the Guardian of The Mortal Plane. However, she is, unlike all the other guardians, not from the Twelfth World or any worlds before that- she’s a successful experiment created by the creator of Kaya and the universe of the Twelfth World and its previous worlds- Cela. 

 Cela had been attempting to create a “super” human- something powerful and extremely durable, however, she wanted to create it within her world. You see, while Cela can create worlds, she cannot create something that is within her world with the tools given to her. Nobody knows yet why these limitations exist, even though hypothetically it should be possible. 

 And so Cela decided to do what nobody had: create a new person without going through the normal process of reproduction- create a person without having to put them in a preexisting world or make a new world for them to exist within. She also wanted to make something extremely powerful that could help with basically anything.

 191 attempts later, Cela was becoming fed up with her failures, having been trying to do this for 5 years. However, when her 192nd attempt at creating a superhuman actually started showing signs of being alive, and eventually was alive, Cela declared it a success. 

 Thus, Crimson #192 (or Hina as she will be called for the rest of this backstory) was the only successful attempt that Cela had been able to produce on her quest to make a superhuman.

Hina was treated as not even human by basically everyone in Cela’s world upon Cela introducing her, and Cela herself only saw Hina as a tool. 

 It didn’t help that Hina turned out to have a “defect”, as Cela called it, where without glasses her vision was heavily impaired, and Cela expressed disappointment at her creation’s visual impairedness, treating her not like a human who just needed glasses, but a tool with a scratch. 

 After a few months of tweaking by Cela, Cela decided to have Hina be her sort of stand-in observer, as Cela couldn’t observe the Twelfth World all day and she couldn’t directly interact with the world’s affairs, only create and destroy. And so she sent Hina to the world.

 Upon Hina being found by Kaya several billions of years before the events of Ever Changing Fate, Hina would eventually become a friend of Kaya, who actually treated her like a human instead of a tool or disgusting thing. 

 Eventually, Hina would end up as the Guardian of The Mortal Plane, guarding the portals to the Heavenly, Hellish, and Spiritual Planes on Portal Island, a small island in the middle of the Aleonese Ocean, smack dab in the middle of the area between Theda and Aleon. While Hina felt as if Kaya was getting rid of her by sending her there, Kaya stated that she couldn’t trust anyone more than her to guard the portals.

 And so Hina remains there to this day, drowning in loneliness and a lingering feeling as if Kaya had wanted to get rid of her because she was disgusted by her. 

 Other Random Facts:

Hina hates her “birth name” Crimson #192 because it makes her feel less human. Hina chose the name “Hina” as her preferred name for no real reason except because a child once asked her what her name was and couldn’t pronounce her birth name, and so Hina asked what the child would prefer to call her, and the child just chose “Hina”. It’s stuck ever since.  Cela doesn’t call Hina “Hina” because she thinks it’s dumb that Hina wants to be any more human than she is, because Cela believes Hina is simply a tool whose mind doesn’t matter.  Hina becomes extremely different from how she usually acts (which is socially awkward and nervous) whenever someone arrives at Portal Island without Kaya telling Hina they’re allowed there; she full out threatens to murder the intruder and has done so many times to intruders. She acts extremely serious and sometimes even tries to scare them away if they don’t leave by acting sadistic and insane. She usually ends up killing the intruder anyway. Only 3 intruders of the 239 people who have ever stumbled upon Portal Island without Kaya permitting them to go there have ever left alive. It’s become a fable that an evil witch lives on Portal Island and kills anyone who arrives there, and Portal Island has gained the name “Island of The Evil Witch” by the public. Its name and the fable attached to it have caused most people to avoid it nowadays. Hina has never met the Guardian of The Spiritual Plane but has met the Guardians of The Heavenly and The Hellish Planes. She’s aware of The Guardian of The Spiritual Plane’s existence, and The Guardian of The Spiritual Plane is aware of Hina’s existence. Hina doesn’t actually need to eat or do most normal human things, but to try to convince herself she’s just as human as anyone else she does most human things like sleep, eat, drink,  go to the bathroom, stuff like that. Hina is probably the loneliest of all the Plane Guardians, as whilst the other Guardians can talk to the spirits that live in their planes of existence, Hina is all alone on an almost completely deserted island, the only inhabitants being a few rare colorations of pegasi and rare species’ of hummingbirds. Hina has taken up the hobby of talking to animals by this point in time.  Nymeria is the only goddess besides Kaya who has met Hina, and she personally thinks Hina’s completely lost her mind.  “She talks to ANIMALS. She’s probably almost as insane as Gaia is by this point! And Gaia is REALLY fucking crazy!” Is what Nymeria said to herself in private after meeting Hina. Cela has often extremely harshly lectured Hina (to the point it borders on verbal abuse) whenever Hina does not listen to her or does something she doesn’t like. Hence her expression in the Picrew above. Hina is “supposed” to not have emotions according to Cela but Hina really does have emotions, and Cela treats that fact as yet another defect, but because Hina is her only successful experiment in her superhuman experiment stuff, she has to deal with it because she doesn’t have the resources to try to make another attempt. Hina’s birth name, “Crimson #192”, comes from the fact that Cela decided to give all the experiments “crimson” hair like her own.

— Submission

Ouch. It’s painful when you’re got characters that are blamed for things that are out of their control. Liike, buddy, you can’t kick someone for how their bodies are going to react and grow to certain things. Can someone come and save this girl and get her some snacks? It seems like she’s benefit from some gummy worms or something. The birds are company, of course, but you can only talk to them for so long before you miss the comfort of another person.

Godly or not, interaction with others is important or you start to lose yourself to your feelings. 

[female-overlord-3]

Magic Chosen

Dark Fae AU for The Old Guard I wrote in one sitting today. Loosely based on Maleficent Mistress of Evil. I just want them all with pretty wings and outfits okay 💛

@imawriteriwrite @caitlesshea @bluemoon-golden

The forest is her home but she knows she used to belong to some place else.

It was far and different but she is here now, so the past holds no purpose in her present.

Her name is Nile and she is the protector of her forest, a place surrounded by mountains that act as a barrier between her and the humans.

The few that do venture in do not stay long but Nile knows time for her is different for them. Shorter, quick. 

The few humans who've shown her kindness and respect for her home enjoyed their lives peacefully. Some stay til they return to the land but others leave in peace with the agreement that Nile removes the journey here and back for her forests protection. 

It is the very very rare ones who hurt the trees and animals, who waste and take from her home that meet a quick end.

Sometimes she has dreams of others, beings like her. Different clothes and shades and magic. None have magic like her.

Nile is able to bend the world to her will, to change things, to create and destroy things.

From her dreams she does not see the others change a bird to a man then to other things. To create such a force it extinguishes the fire from trees or clear the area completely.

Her magic is vibrant like the sun while the others feel like the moon, reflecting from a greater source.

Nile knows there has been none like her in a very long time.

-

"There is talk."

Copley voices when he's turned into his human form.

"There is always talk. Humans do nothing but talk."

Copley sighs and eyes her nervously.

"There is talk of others. The ones you've dreamed about. I believe they are finally venturing to find you."

Nile pauses from taking another bite from the apple she grew. 

The news is… a mix of emotions. The curiosity of why now and the uncertainty of what that reason may be.

"Does the talk say how close they are?"

Copley shakes his head and picks a berry from the bowl that holds the fruit Nile gathered and grew.

"They are scattered so that is unknown but eventually they will all join together. Even they must enter like the humans."

Nile hums in agreement and returns to her apple. She flicks her hand and Copley is off soaring far to be her eyes.

"Tell the Tundra one hello for me Copley."

The sound of his strangled squawk makes her grin as his original hawke form disappears from her sight.

She finishes her apple then rises above the trees to make her rounds of overseeing her forest.

-

When they do finally arrive, one is hurt.

Nile can feel this woman being called back to the land but not permanently. It is not her time just yet.

Her hair is different from her dreams, short, but her wings are still vibrant with color from those of the jungle. Her other, Quynh, holds her hand tightly. Their wings match which Nile knows means they are a fated pair. The same for the two men from the Desert.

When Copley and the one from the Tundra appear a few moments later, Nile wants to laugh with glee. Their wings match as well. She now understands the urge so long ago to befriend the lonely hawke.

"Your Andromecha will be fine. She needs rest." Nile creates a soft bed of moss for Andromache to rest while her healing works to close wounds no longer laced with silver.

"I am Nile and this is my forest. Welcome."

"Thank you Nile for saving my Andromache." She hugs Nile in gratitude before settling next to her fated one.

Nile looks to the others and smiles.

"Come I have a place for each of you here. The price is your name." She teases as she leads the way.

The Desert fae with dark curls grins at her with equal amusement.

"Oh we have a bargainer among us! I am Yusuf." He nudges his fated gently in the side.

"I am Nicolo." His voice is kind and quiet but his presence is strong.

Niles eyes glance behind them to the Tundra fae and Copley who rests on his shoulder.

A teasing grin tugs at the corner of her lips as she looks forward.

"Do you have a name Tundra? My friend has yet to provide one for me. I'm sure he must know it now."

Copley moves to hop off the man's shoulder but his form changes and he falls into his steady arms.

The two stare at each other in shock.

"I am Sebastein though I much prefer Booker for those I do not know."

His eyes don't leave the being in his arms.

"I'm very grateful to see this form again. Thank you Nile."

Copley tries to get to his feet but the arms around him tighten.

"Copley why don't you show him where he'll be staying. Surely he is adverse to the heat as you are."

Without another word the two are up in the air.

An arm comes to rest on her shoulder lightly and she looks to Yusuf who's grin reflects hers.

"Nile we are going to be very great friends. Now please tell me of your forest for I have only been to few and my Nicolo is very peculiar about…"

Nile let's his voice wash over her like the comforting warmth of a nearby fire. She catches Nicolo's eye roll at Yusuf's exaggerated words.

Yes, Nile thinks. Her people have finally found her. Friends then family very soon.

-

Each pair finds their place and easily settled in as though it has been waiting for them.

Quynh and Andromache are in the deeper parts of Niles forest with the tallest trees. 

Sebastein has a place just below the peak of the tallest mountain, the coldest place most suitable for him.

Yusuf and Nicolo have made use of the caves near the dry rocky area that contains the most heat.

Niles place is near the center of her forest, Andromache and Quynh being the closest to her though Niles forest is big enough they still maintain a respective space from each other.

They follow Nile into the tree she has called home for as long as she can remember. The tree she lives within is immense enough to hold not only all of them but a bed-like nest, a small table with a worn stump as a chair, a reflective glass held in the tree's frame as a mirror, and a small trunk under it.

Additional wooden stumps appear at the flick of Niles hand for all to sit. Andromache sits at the center with Quynh at her left. Yusuf and Nicolo are at the seats to their left while Sebastein and Copley are on their right.

"Now why have you finally come to me?" She asks plainly. The reason must be important.

Sebastein answers her first.

"There is a being that is not right. He was a fae from the Tundra but with magic so weak and a body more frail than our kind usually are. He was brought to the jungle in hope he'd survive but a human woman found him when he was still just a boy and took him with her to her world."

Andromache rests a hand on his arm as Copley squeezes the one he holds.

Andromache continues the story.

"She clipped his wings to keep him and used him to find a way for humans to use magic. She had a mind much smarter and greater than most but her goal was not moral. This ostracized him from us and the humans. He was mocked and turned away by most until he found some way to call on a magic stronger than most, magic like yours but dark. Evil."

"Iron no longer hurts him." Nicolo adds. "He casts curses to instill fear and death but we cannot stop him or undo what he's done."

Niles mind turns and turns in thought to how there is another like her but not born.

"I do not know my origin for I did not see a need to remember when I am content with my forest and life. I do know my magic is stronger than yours but I make no sacrifice or take what I don't already have."

Yusuf frowns at her wording. "Sacrifices?" He questions.

"There was a time at the start where our kind would provide a sacrifice for our magic, to strengthen or assist when needed. Those ways were lost once we realized that it twisted people and changed their magic the more sacrifices they made." Nile flinches back at the image that flashes through her mind, a quiet gasp from the others brings her back.

Branches and vines cling to her as her magic swirls.

"This forest was our birthplace before Mother Phoenix left for some place new. It was where she came to be. It was where I was returned. To be kept safe but also to restart the cycle."

Nile stands and touches each of their foreheads to show them.

"I am younger than you all in body but in mind and spirit I- I was given so much and I wish to share it. There was a reason we shared dreams."

What were once reflecting moons, explode into their own suns, magic now overflowing within them.

Copley looks the most surprised to feel magic thrumming through his being.

"But how?" He stares at Nile in awe and uncertainty. "I was only a simple bird."

Nile cups his cheek and shakes her head.

"You've been a dear and faithful friend. We saved each other in our loneliest moment but it was because I saw in you the heart and spirit that was much greater than a simple bird. Your wings match Sebasteins for a reason my friend."

The six before her are holding tightly to the hand next to them. A chain from Copley to Sebastein to Andromache to Quyhn to Yusuf to Nicolo. Nile motions them to stand and completes the chain once her hands connect with Nicolo and Copley.

Their joined power swells before settling and they all breathe a sigh of relief.

Magic chose them to be its fighters. To right this evil and rebalance what it's taken.

A fated pair from each Dark Fae region and the reincarnation of the Mother Phoenix.

The protectors of their kind and magic itself.

[ibtk]

Book Review: THE ANIMALS IN THAT COUNTRY by Laura Jean McKay (2020)

(Full disclosure: I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review through Edelweiss and Library Thing's Early Reviewers program. Content warning for violence, including that against animals. Caution: this review contains a spoiler in the form of an excerpt.)

'Well, I’ve got a secret for you, Miss Kimberly Russo.' She digs her sharp little nails into my skin. ‘What is it?’ ‘This flu means people can talk to animals.’ Her head shoots up. ‘I want the flu, Granny. Don’t you?’ ‘Grown-ups don’t wish they had diseases, and neither should you.’ ‘But don’t you?’ Outside, Wallamina and Princess Pie are nose and beak to the sliding door, trying to press their way through. Eyes shining. ‘Course I bloody do.’

I can see the wild in her. She looks and acts like any dog. Plays, wags, stares into my eyes with her baby browns; does chasey, catch, begs for biscuits. Then the dusk comes and she lifts her neck and howls the saddest song in all the world, and there’s that wild. Dingo, owl, night thing — that sound is a warning. Loneliest you’ll hear. Wraps around your face, your sleep, your dreams. She’s saying: ‘Hey, hey. There’s something coming.’ The rangers here are always telling me, don’t talk like that. They say how dingoes are just establishing territory, checking on their pack. Dingo admin. But stand on the hot road that runs from the gift shop to the enclosures, and listen to the dingo in her cage call out to the packs on the other side of the fence. Tell me that’s not special. Tell me she doesn’t know something about the world that you and me haven’t ever thought of.

Jean Bennett isn't you're typical grandma - unless you're picturing Gemma Teller Morrow, that is. Jean drinks, smokes, swears, and sleeps around, usually all at the same time, and occasionally with her gay and committed coworker, Andy. She's got a tiger tattooed on her boob, and a dingo named Sue imprinted on her heart.

A lowly guide who dreams of becoming a ranger, Jean works at an Australian wildlife park, run by her son's ex-girlfriend Angela and owned by Angela's father. Jean and her husband Graham landed there years ago, after bouncing around the world for a while. Eventually Graham left Jean to shack up with another woman; their only child, Lee, jumped ship too, but not before hooking up with - and impregnating - Angela. Now Ange mostly keeps Jean around for the free child care (and maybe also because Ange feels sorry for her).

As for Jean, she stays stuck in this weird, awkward morass for her granddaughter Kimberley - one of the few people she can tolerate, let alone love. Jean prefers animals of the nonhuman variety, and the Park's residents/captives are her found family. She has a special place in her cockles for Sue, a dingo mix who she helped rescue as a wee little pup.

Jean's precarious life is already teetering on the edge of chaos when THE FLU arrives - first in southern Australia, then at the Park's gates, thanks to none other than an infected Lee, as charming as he is irresponsible.

Zoanthropathy (from Greek: zóo, “animal”, anthroponis, “human”, pathy, “disorder”), aka zooflu, otherwise known as "the talking animal disease," allow humans to understand and communicate with other animals:

'The strain known as zoanthropathy affects cognition in humans, and it is believed that enhanced communication between humans and nonhuman animals is possible. Zoanthropathy is hosted and spread by humans. [...] The disease is very high in morbidity and very low in mortality. Infected humans appear able to communicate (encode) and translate (decode) previously unrecognisable non-verbal communications via major senses such as sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound with nonhuman animals.'

When Lee runs off with Kimberley - to commune with the whales on the southern coast - Jean embarks on a cross-country road trip to find them. Riding shotgun is Sue, whose keen nose points the way to Tomorrow (Tomorrow being Sue's conceptualization of Kimberley. Jean is Yesterday, and Lee is Never There. Scathing, yet accurate.)

As with most potentially animal-friendly tales, I was equally nervous and excited to dive into THE ANIMALS IN THAT COUNTRY. As it is, the book both thrilled and disappointed me; I almost feel like it deserves two separate ratings, one for the idea and actualization of the dystopian zooflu future - which is breathtaking - and another for the human-centered plot that propels the audience's journey into this world - which is decidedly less so.

Let's start with the zooflu. It seems like it would be awesome to be able to talk to animals, right? Think again. I mean, really turn the idea over in your head, sit with the superpower, and try to envision what this might entail. Given that most of the nonhumans we encounter on the daily are exploited, oppressed, or otherwise negatively impacted by humans -

be it the 25 million farmed animals we create, torture, and kill for food every year in the US alone; the "wildlife" (read: free-living animals) we displace, starve, and kill through habitat loss; the dogs and cats we buy, neglect, and then abandon at shelters; or the animals we unintentionally hit with our cars (or the bugs we trod on just walking down the street); etc. x infinity

- we are weapons of mass destruction. To most of our nonhuman kin (and sometimes our fellow humans, too). Instead of words of wisdom and messages of hope, we'd be more likely to hear cries of terror. Confusion. Pain and agony. Hellfire, everywhere. Created and fueled by us and our own.

Heck, I'm not even sure it would be beneficial to always know exactly what our beloved, nonhuman family members are thinking. I have a fifteen-year-old dog named Finn who's going deaf and blind and battling dementia. More often than not, I suspect that being privy to his innermost thoughts would freak me the fuck out. Not to mention break my damn heart.

And then there's the mode of communication: not just just verbal, as we're used to, but all-encompassing: "sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound." Think pheromones, sound waves, scratches and ticks. The beating of countless tiny wings, all bombarding your brain and trying to tell you something. That kind of thing, coming at you uninvited and from all directions, is apt to drive a person mad. And it does, as evidenced by zooflu sufferers who stuff their orifices with whatever's handy to block incoming stimuli - or, at the more extreme end, the pseudo-religious trepanners who invite strangers to drill holes in their skulls in a misguided attempt to relieve the pressure.

Talking to animals sounds like the stuff of dreams - but in McKay's hands, it's a nightmare.

And a pretty trippy one, at that: fittingly, the incoming messages that Jean's left to decode aren't quite what you'd call straightforward. There's a lot of translation required, and Google hasn't yet caught up:

I’m reading her body like some language I barely remember from a high school textbook. Bonjour madame, connaissez-vous le chemin de la gare? Let’s go to the station. Or, where the hell is the supermarket? I can parrot the words, but the meaning is in scraps.

Copies of this book should be sold with a sheet of acid, or maybe some edibles. I kid, but also not.

If, like me, you assumed that increased understanding and compassion would surely spring forth from this newfound ability to communicate with nonhuman animals, you'd be wrong. While some people do indeed embrace the flu, many others lash out: animal-free zones are established, and hungry citizens start hunting former pets, since they make for easy prey (apparently they've never heard of fruits and veggies?).

There's one especially excruciating scene that I don't think I'll ever be able to forget. Jean takes refuge in a makeshift church, only to catch a glimpse of how the missionaries make their sausage (stew):

A small fluffy dog has pelted out a kitchen door, thin bit of twine tangled around its legs, body blonde fire, screaming, Hello. Please. Please bite its soft. Quick. Help me. I jump up, calling the poor little bugger, but the parishioners shriek louder, climbing on their chairs like that dog is the snake from the garden of Eden. The woman rushes for her daughter and hauls her by an arm out of the room. It’s funny, for a second, until the laugh dies in my throat. The little dog, too tangled in the twine to move, slumps panting in the aisle. It’s not just m e. Where’s other me. She’s still — The god-botherers are faster than me. They grab that dog with WWF wrestling passion, using real lumps of wood, real knives. The little dog has enough time to issue a thick whiff of terror from its undercarriage, Help her, before they’ve slit it ear to ear right there in the pulpit. There was no blood with Lee. He didn’t even look that drowned. He might have come alive any moment. He might be alive right now in his grave. This little dog, though, is bleeding out on the beige carpet. The door to the kitchen is open. Matthew the soup cook leans on the jamb, then turns back. A fluffy tail on a chopping board. The steaming pots. Pain like a stab to my guts — he stirs a soup very much like the one he was serving up in the park.

Of course, this scene is so repulsive to most of us - Jean included - only because the animal being killed and consumed is designated for "companionship" instead of "food," at least in this particular culture. Chances are you've known and loved a dog or two yourself - and so the doomed beast transforms from a something to a someone. Not an unfeeling object to be used and discarded at will, but a sentient creature with her own feelings, desires, and loved ones. Had it been a chicken or pig, the result wouldn't be quite so horrifying; Jean herself eats meat, and justifies doing so, on several occasions.

Yet an earlier scene - in which Jean comes upon an abandoned tractor trailer truck packed with pigs destined for slaughter - will hopefully challenge readers to expand their circle of compassion:

I’ve seen battery hogs before — of course I have. But not out and about. Not staggering around and trying to walk, calling to whatever they think is ‘more’. Glazed eyes that strain like they’ve never seen sunlight. Skin stretched over bodies fed to the point of bursting — something between swine and meat. Saw some animal liberationists on the street in the city one time, saying factory farms were the same as Nazi camps. I called them bloody racists too. The pigs clatter past me down the ramp, fucked-up eyes on the road ahead, calling, Hello is it more. Those animal nutters were wrong, but not in the way I thought. It’s not the same as the Nazis: that was us doing to us. What’s this? [...] A hurt sow sits on her haunches, then lies down on the verge, panting unevenly under the slathering sun. Another weaves blindly over the asphalt toward her, flies spinning around her head. They push their noses into each other. Send me a postcard, the sick one says. Postcard, indeed. What the fuck. I watch more closely. The meaning bright off that tight skin. All the little bits saying, Leave me, and, I’ll hear about it, and, Don’t you see it. Move on. There’s more. The ones that can walk stretch their legs, for, More, more, more. I stand at the top of the truck ramp watching them break into a group trot toward the next paddock. Skin rippling. Hooves carolling. Know that heart-in-your-mouth run. Know exactly what ‘more’ is. I’ve seen it in Lee and I’ve had it too, at times. These pigs are half dead, they’re stumbling around, blind, mad, and fucking hopeful.

Even if many of the characters in this book resist the humanity clearly evident in nonhuman animals, I hope that readers will hold these passages close - especially at the dinner table.

Sue, our main nonhuman protagonist, is a fascinating character; like many of the semi-domesticated animals in the park, McKay paints her as a series of conflicting impulses: safety or freedom. Hunger or satiation. Dingoes or humans. She is fiercely loyal, much to her own detriment. She has wants and needs of her own, and she's often satisfied to set them aside for the good of her (adopted) pack.

And I guess that brings me to the second half of this review: the humans, most of whom are awful. Jean, exponentially so.

Initially I thought that Jean would be my people: she's a hard-drinking, mold-breaking badass broad who gets on better with animals than people. She has a mini-rescue in her backyard where she keeps some of the park's doomed relinquishments. (The public treats the park like a rehab facility when in fact it's in the business of entertainment - old, sick, injured, and "common" animals are routinely killed.) She and Kimberley spend their afternoons together designing the animal rescue they hope to build one day.

But Jean is kind of a terrible person. To call her a misanthrope is half the story: she's also senselessly mean and cruel, especially when drunk, hungover, or frustrated (in other words, 90% of the time). I don't fault Jean for her substance abuse problem - alcoholism is a mental health issue and should be treated as such - but nor is it an excuse for being such an asshole. (There's even a scene where she trolls people discussing the zooflu online, like a fucking American redhat.) She's shit to everyone around her, except for Kimberley and Lee (Lee, who could use a good ass-kicking).

And then there's Sue: Sue, who followed Jean across the damn country when she should have been settling into a dingo pack of her own. Sue, who found Kimberley and saved Jean's life. Sue, who is nothing but good and true and trustworthy. Sue, who Jean assaults on multiple occasions: kicking her in the ribs, binding her with rope to prevent her escape, and even trying to shoot her (with a gun that's thankfully empty of bullets). At one point, she "forgives" Sue for saving her life - as if Sue's the one who needs forgiveness!

Despite the abuse, Sue continues to stick by Jean's side, which galled me endlessly. Towards the end of the story, following the attempted murder, Sue gets revenge of a sort, dominating a delirious Jean and forcing her subservience. However, the book ends shortly thereafter, cutting any sense of satisfaction far too short.

I really felt cheated with Jean: I thought she might be my avatar in this world - but she's just another terrible human who doesn't deserve the company of animals.

Likewise, the whole subplot involving Kimberley's parentage is way over the top dramatic and unnecessary; it seemed like we were being plucked from a dystopia and dropped into a soap opera for a minute there. Just, gross. So yeah, there are definitely some aspects of the book that I appreciated more than others. THE ANIMALS IN THAT COUNTRY may be imperfect - but I'd still wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone looking to explore our relationship to nonhuman animals in a dystopian setting.

[soundlesslament]

Unexpected Literature

A compilation of all those “this looks like it was taken from respected literary canon” sentences from memes, text posts, tweets, video games, family movies/series, animated works, and comics/manga. The current total is 76 quotes, I will add more as I find them. Suggestions welcome.

memes and text posts

Ø  (I beg to differ.) Then beg.

Ø  Bury me shallow, I’ll be back.

Ø  Then become the dirt I walk on.

Ø  Once a man, now deemed a fool.

Ø  I’d strike the sun if it insulted me.

Ø  Nothing can kill me, not even death.

Ø  We deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

Ø  I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip.

Ø  I take great solace in your flammability.

Ø  Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

Ø  Every day we stray further from God’s light.

Ø  (I’ll do whatever you want.) Then perish.

Ø  Violence for violence is the rule of beasts.

Ø  I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.

Ø  Tell me, ultimate soldier, do the dead forgive?

Ø  I have been through hell and come out singing.

Ø  Even the ground wouldn’t want him to rot in it.

Ø  Do I look like the kind of man/woman who dies?

Ø  God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why.

Ø  Life is all about pain and by God I will be its conduit.

Ø  Impudent of you to assume I will meet a mortal end.

Ø  I’m just a little creature. That’s all. I cannot change this.

Ø  This is Hell’s territory, and I am beholden to no gods.

Ø You are a coward wearing the facade of a revolutionary.

Ø  No curse of mine shall befall you from my dying breath.

Ø  To become god is the loneliest achievement of them all.

Ø  You kneel before my throne unaware it was built on lies.

Ø  The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math.

Ø  One day you’ll decompose, and I’ll be there to watch it happen.

Ø  Deviation from the norm will be punished unless it is exploitable.

Ø  The man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one.

Ø  Here’s a penny for your thoughts and a quarter to not tell me them.

Ø  You could sooner divert a river from its course than deny my nature.

Ø  I want nothing more than to uppercut you directly to Heaven’s front door.

Ø  The anger in your heart warms you now but will leave you cold in your grave.

Ø  Someday you will have to answer for your actions and God may not be so merciful.

Ø  The enemy knew he could never defeat love, so he started trying to redefine it instead.

Ø  The other world is just a place we haven’t visited before and we’re going to explore it together.

Ø  Pray that we will never meet in the next life because even the gods will not be able to protect you.

Ø  Kid, get off the ground. Spit your blood, and bare your teeth; go down a savage, go down fighting.

Ø  All knowledge is based on that which we cannot prove. Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?

Ø  But what is stopping you? The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is today.

Ø  The problem with becoming the kind of hero you needed yourself is that it can’t change the fact that nobody came for you.

Ø  One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled.

Ø  Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. You cannot kill me in a way that matters.

video games

Ø  [Fire Emblem] Pick a god and pray.

Ø  [Choices] Pick a hell and rot there!

Ø  [Halo] I am a monument to all yours sins.

Ø  [Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs] I lay there and watched the god I had created die.

Ø  [Sonic] If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight like I always have.

Ø  [Sonic] I’ll teach you fear, then pain, and then? Well, at least the fear and pain will end.

Ø  [Fallout] I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.

Ø  [The Elder Scrolls] My ancestors are smiling at me. Can you say the same?

Ø  [The Elder Scrolls] What is better: to be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?

  miscellaneous

Ø  [Bleach] Admiration is the furthest thing from understanding.

Ø  [Brave] if you had the chance to change your fate, would you?

Ø  [The Princess Bride] Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

Ø  [Warrior Cats] Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won.

Ø  [The Simpsons] Money can’t change people. It can only help them be who they are.

Ø  [A Practical Guide To Evil] If I cannot be kind or just, then I will at least be victorious.

Ø  [Batman] You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Ø  [Doctor Who] Good men need no rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many.

Ø  [Spykids] Do you think God stays in Heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what He’s created?

Ø  [Transformers] I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering, and tonight I intend to make you very wise.

[thenamesseven]

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mentions of death, murdering and blood.

A/N: It’s finally here! The first supernatural themed story in the blog! I hope you all like it and that the wait for it was worth it, enjoy it! ^^

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

Once upon a time a village where witches were being burnt at stakes. The situation was unbearable, some innocents died while really powerful witches were murdered without having done anything bad. It wasn’t their fault though, being born with that kind of power should be a blessing but it somehow turned into a curse when people started hunting them down. The village was submitted to an eternal chaos, happiness was nowhere to be seen and death was everywhere, following everybody closely.

Once upon a time a witch that was forced to isolation in order to survive, in order to save her own life. While her friends were being burnt and their painful screams filled the cold night, she managed to collect all her stuff and vanished from her home before somebody barged in it willing to capture her and throw her into the fire like they all have done with everybody. 

That night she ran breathless through the empty streets of the village, hearing men dragging women out of their houses, hearing babies cry in agony and little girls beg for their life. There was smoke in the air thanks to the torches people carried around along with the big fire that had been lit in the central square, where everybody could see it -even if they didn’t want to-. The scent was disgusting, the smell of human flesh burning was something not easy to forget, it was something that would haunt her forever, an unforgettable memory.

The forest that surrounded the village welcomed her, letting her hide into the darkness that it provided, allowing her to create her own house, her new home in the solitude of the scenery. It was hard at the beginning but the woman, the witch learned somehow to survive by herself. Magic was always there to give her a hand, helping her to find food and water when the forest wasn’t giving her enough supplies to survive. What her power couldn’t give her was company, somebody to be with her in her most loneliest times. There were animals around that sometimes visited her in order to get some food and believe or not, a cat had installed herself in her home sleeping besides her bed every single night.

Once upon a time there was a village that, during a certain period of time, families were destroyed. The situations were pretty different, some of those families didn’t want another child while other simply couldn’t afford to have another mouth to feed. Some mothers perished while giving birth and some of the fathers weren’t strong enough to keep going without their love ones, abandoning the poor little babies in the forest, willing they would just disappear.

Little did those families know that, no matter how hard they would try to forget, the sound of their baby crying alone in the forest would be engraved in their minds forever, torturing them whenever they were feeling any kind of happiness for what they did.

For some cultures and people, the number thirteen is a sign of bad luck, it is something people likes to avoid as much as they can but for the isolated witch, the number thirteen is an absolute blessing. Not because it had to do something with her magic but because thirteen were the additions, the kids that joined her and created her uncommon yet original family.

It was pure coincidence everytime that she found a poor, unfortunate baby that had been abandoned in the woods. Guided by their crying, the witch managed to find every single one of them and expanded her home enough for the fourteen of them to live in.

Despite the weird circumstances this rare family was formed in, the kids all grew up perfectly, having the happiness and joyful moments their original families had deprived them of. The witch felt like a mother and the kids, that once were orphans, felt the love they would have never had if the woman that raised them wouldn't have found them.

Everything has an end though and what once was a beautiful and peaceful home turned into a chaos similar to the one that destroyed the village outside the forest one day. The kids weren’t kids anymore, in fact, they grew up to be thirteen handsome gentlemen whose curiosity was out of control. They kept wondering why they lived in the woods and why they weren’t allowed to get out of it but the witch kept avoiding the questions one at a time, maintaining their impatient will to get answers at bay.

Unfortunately, that only worked for a couple of years though. Once some of them reached their early twenties breaking the rules didn’t sound so scary and dangerous as it used to sound when they were eight or nine, so one afternoon they all stole the witch’s grimoire and crafted the little spell that would make their mom fall into a deep slumber for some hours, hours in which they would all sneak out of the house and reach the village nearby.

That night was the best one of their lives. They investigated the whole town, learned about its story, about the witches that were once hunted down and burnt and they all got to understand why their mother lived deep in the woods, although they couldn’t understand why weren’t they allowed to get out of the forest when they weren’t like her. The fun part came when they discovered bars which had two of the best things in the world, alcohol and girls. That night, the thirteen of them discovered many amazing things that had been hidden from them for a very long time.

What was supposed to be a one time thing turned into a routine, they all felt bad for lying to the woman that had raised them but the girls that had stolen their hearts were waiting for them in the forbidden village and love, passion and lust were stronger than the fear of the gentle witch who had raised them. 

Mistakes are meant to be made though and one night, one of the brothers left the grimoire wide opened on the table after they had sneaked out to the village. Since that night, they all had enough fun to sleep for hours and unfortunately the witch woke up before them.

It took some time to find out what they have been doing, to believe the people she saved from death would betray her so easily. Rage overwhelmed her, the witch only saw red at that point. How could they do that to her? How could they choose some random girls over somebody who raised them up? Who saved their lives when their own families wanted them dead? Blinded by rage, the witch opened her grimoire and started chanting powerful rituals, powerful curses that would kill their love ones, that would end the lives of the girls who stole her kids away but that would also teach them a lesson, one that would seal their fates and turned them into living yet neverending nightmares.

She knew she would regret doing this at some point, that deep down, despite all the rage she was feeling, she still loved her precious kids but they needed to learn that betraying the one person who saved you wasn’t a good thing to do.

Blinded by rage, the witch used her magic to hypnotize the girls and brought them to her home.She welcomed them inside, sitting them down next to her sleeping childs who hadn’t woken up yet. When everybody was inside, she walked out of the house and chanted a spell, the one that change the thirteen’s men lives forever.

              “You, who betrayed the woman who loved you the most,

                 will now betray the ones that guided you to the worst.

                          Fate will change, your lives won’t end

         And you’ll relive the nightmare of murdering your love everyday. 

                          Don’t be relieved when you control it

              The beast won’t be tamed no matter how much you want it

                    The monster inside of you will instantly come out

                     If another woman you encounter in the future,

              resembles the one whose memories hunts you down”

Once upon a time thirteen kids that should have died but didn’t.

Once upon a time thirteen teenagers whose curiosity would get them killed.

Once upon a time thirteen men whose lives turned into living nightmares.

Once upon a time thirteen monsters that would terrorized towns, cities and entire countries.

Once upon a time The Originals.

Once upon a time death.

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

Walking down the halls of the empty building, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander around curiously, constantly trying to get rid of the creepy aura that the place was giving you.

You didn't know if it was the immaculate white walls that only had the light switches on them as decoration or the mysterious little stains on the floor that made you suspect that no matter how hard you would scrub them, they wouldn't disappear. Letting out a resigned sigh, you let your eyes wander back to the man that was supposed to be guiding you around who was only telling you a bunch of rules you were supposed to follow.

Never ever use common bleach to clean, they deal with chemicals products and the gasses that bleach emits could screw one of their projects over. If you ever ran out of the special bleach they provided  you should stop cleaning and wait for them to get you more.

It's absolutely prohibited to take any pictures of anything, companies for other brands could used them either to copy whatever they were working on or to cause problems for them.

Obviously, do not talk about whatever you see around. Being only the cleaning girl doesn't mean you're allowed to gossip.

Last but not least, only clean the rooms which doors were opened. Rooms with closed doors meant that the room is being used or is not in disposition to be cleaned.

Some of the rules were a bit weird but wasn't their job unusual? The people working in this building claimed themselves to be supernatural investigators, people that researched about witches, werewolves, ghosts and all the creatures that haunts us in nightmares. At first, when you read the working offer in the internet, you thought you were going to be pranked really hard by really bored people but as soon as you stepped inside, you got the feeling that the prank was just a product of your imagination. 

You didn't have another option though, your parents had stopped giving you money as soon as you dropped out of Law school and bills were waiting to be paid at your door. Working as a waitress had turned out not being compatible with your schedule and wallet so when you saw the chance, you took it without hesitating no matter how weird it might seem. 

We all had a weird side right? Maybe these people were extremely friendly and outgoing outside of their work. You never know.

"That's all you need to know, some pretty basic stuff right?" 

The man in front of you suddenly stopped walking, making you almost walk into him since you still were too distracted scanning your surroundings to listen to whatever the man was explaining.

"Uh...Yeah" You muttered, clearing your throat to try and make your voice sound firmer and determined. It didn't work and the man probably noticed the confusion in your face because he sighed kind of annoyed.

"Do not enter any rooms with closed doors alright? Even if the door is not locked, do not open it, never" For some reason this rule seemed to be the most important and you, being your curious self, couldn't help but wonder out loud why. "We don't need people gossiping around about our work" He replied dryly, making you frown at him. "Most of us will have a break in a few minutes, there will be a couple of workers around but they won't bother you while you clean if you want to start now" 

You nodded enthusiastically, the sooner you start cleaning, the sooner you would have the oh so wanted money in your wallet.

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

After almost three entire hours of cleaning without a break you stumbled into the last hall in which most of the doors were luckily closed. Despite your enthusiasm for showing the people that hired you that you could do an incredibly good work, you felt tired and kind of wanted to head home already. The music coming through your headphones wasn’t motivating you enough at this point, only the thought of earning money was pushing you to the end of the hall, to the only door that seemed to be unlocked.

You hesitated for a moment, the door you were standing in front of wasn’t closed but wasn’t wide opened either like the ones you had been allowed to walk in to clean. This one was partially opened, only leaving a small gap between the edge of it and the wall.

“Hello?” Your voice came out weaker than expected, for some unknown reason a chill ran down your spine. It felt as if your own body was warning you, telling you to turn around and finish your task of cleaning for today. “Is somebody in there?” 

The second time your voice echoed in the room stirred awake the beast inside the thirteen boys bodies’. Thanks God they were too weak to move because if they had been free, you would have had thirteen hungry vampires launching towards you with their open mouths adorned with fangs waiting to sink into your immaculate skin.

For a moment you seriously considered the option of closing the door and walking away but the cameras in the hall forced you to shakily push the door a bit more open. You were not prepared for the sight that greeted you.

“Fuck!” 

Your heart stopped beating as your eyes scanned the thirteen coffins that laid there opened. What scared you the most wasn’t the sight of them, it was the sight of the people laying inside of those wooden boxes what made the alarm system in your body ring in alert.

“What kind of stupid joke is this? I almost had a fucking heart attack man, I swear to God” 

Maybe talking out loud was helping yourself to calm the pounding of your heart against your ribcage, maybe acting as if everything had been prepared to prank you made everything less scary, whatever it was you would regret walking into the room later, you would regret not turning around and running as far away as you could from that place.

But we’re humans right? Mistakes are meant to be made.

Slowly, hearing the sounds of your own steps echoing in the room, you approached one of the coffins, peeking inside to get a look at the doll laying inside of it. There was no name nor information, just a young looking man laying there. His hands were on his stomach, head looking up to the ceiling with his dead eyes opened...He honestly looked so real that it wouldn’t be a surprise if he suddenly sat up to scared you.

“Woah...It looks so real…”

You reached out, willing to caress the skin of the lifeless doll, willing to see if it felt as real as it looked when you heard a sound behind you, something similar to someone sighing. The sound caught you so off guard, so distracted that it startled you incredibly hard, making you stumble and fall down. Before you could avoided it, your head hit the corner of a table that was there, also making all the glass bottles and papers to fall down.

Everything was a mess, you had glass everywhere, small cuts on your skin and papers of a probably really important investigation were being destroyed right in front of you.

Your ass was definitely getting fired….

“Fuck...Fuck, fuck, fuck” 

You stood up, using the closest coffin as support not even caring about staining the expensive looking wood with your blood. You were prepare to start fixing the mess you’ve made, thinking of an apology that could save you from getting kicked out from this job when you noticed something weird as soon as your eyes landed on the doll.

Weren’t his hands on his stomach before? Why were they on his chest now?

They surely were on his chest before, right? They had to be...He couldn’t have moved...Right?

Your breath hitched when his chest moved. Was he breathing? 

“Enough with this stupid joke” You muttered, hands shaking as you stumbled, making your way back to the door to ran out of this stupid room.

Your steps echoed in the emptiness of the building. Unfortunately, nobody noticed the mistake you made, nobody noticed the stain of blood inside one of The Original’s coffin. They were weak but had enough energy in them to move if they really tried, that’s how the first vampire touched your blood, groaning in pain as he forced the stiff muscles of his arm to direct his stained finger to his mouth.

The flavor of your blood made him hum contentedly. 

He was awake and he was ready to wake his brothers up.

The Originals were back and since your blood is the first thing they’ve had in years, they want you...They need you.

You better run.

Because as a witch said one day….

                 The monster inside of you will instantly come out

                   If another woman you encounter in the future,

               resembles the one whose memories hunts you down

[thekidultlife]

The song ‘Home’ by Seventeen really means so much to me. I don’t know why I’m being sentimental while I’m playing SSP lmao but just hearing this song makes my heart warm up. Even though how many times I listen to this song, it’s effect is still the same as the time I first heard it.

I’m someone who associates a period of my life to the songs I listened to at that time. 90′s songs remind me of my childhood, anime opening songs remind me of my teenage years, and Seventeen brings me back to my university years, when I’m a young adult. When I hear their songs, I’m immediately brought back to that period of my life where it was nothing and everything all at once.

‘Home’ in particular, brings me back to that time in my life where my success felt like a defeat. That was also the same time that my friend Leanne and I had to stop writing in our Seventeen blog. We wanted to go to South Korea as exchange students and it took almost a year to prepare for it from parents’ permissions, to documents and expenses. It didn’t help that our university department didn’t want us to go. We had to go through a lot of hoops just to get an approval. It didn’t also help that we were in the middle of our internship as well. It didn’t help that I was misdiagnosed with an illness. Everything was exhausting. Even waiting was exhausting.

Yet it just didn’t stop there. When we finally completed everything and passed our documents for a visa, we were rejected. I was devastated. We were so hopeful back then; planning out what to do, buying winter clothes, learning Korean etc. Yet all of those became dashed dreams. All I did at that time was cry. I didn’t go to classes anymore. I just stayed at home.

We were then offered a chance to go to Taiwan. I took it but Leanne backed out, and I was left alone. It’s not her fault and I don’t blame her at all. She wanted to go at that time as badly as I did. But for those few months that I have been in Taiwan, it was my loneliest. Everything that was familiar to me has disappeared. New people, new places, new situations. I almost lost myself that time.

I won’t lie, I didn’t want anything to do with Seventeen or Korea at that time. It was just painful. I was constantly reminded that I wasn’t able to go to Korea, that I had failed. I couldn’t even listen to any of their songs without a heaviness in my heart. I grew distant, and fell out of love.

When that semester had finished and I came back to my country for vacation, it was also the same time Seventeen made a comeback with You Made My Dawn. I listened to the album, just out of curiosity. But when I heard, ‘Home;, I almost cried. Just by listening to it, my heart felt warm and at peace. No song in my entire life ever did that to me. I don’t know how anyone could make a song that just feels...warm.

More than that though, it held so much meaning to me because it came at the exact moment in my life where I was incredibly lonely. Leanne and I had different experiences already over those past 4 months, and I knew things have changed. ‘Home’ was the comfort I needed at time. Of all the things that could give me comfort, it was a song from a group that I turned away from.

It’s undeniable that Seventeen would always be a part of my life. They were there with me through my ups and downs. Even if so many years would have passed, I’m sure their songs would always bring me back to my youth. Thank you Jihoon for producing ‘Home’. It has reached my heart, you know? Thank you creating so many wonderful songs with everyone. Thank you Seventeen for existing, for being there. You guys would always be here in my heart.

[crowgoesskwaa]

‘Of Mice and Men’ - The Film

‘Of Mice and Men‘, the film was released in 1992 it was produced by Gary Sinise, who also played George. Alongside Sinise, John Malkovich starred as Lennie. The story was adapted for the film but it still explores the themes of lonliness, discrimination and The American Dream. 

When it premiered, it was released as a PG rated film and was given good reviews by critics. 

The plot goes - George reflects on the time he spent traveling with Lennie, a huge childlike man. The two men drift through California during the Great Depression, looking for work, soon they find jobs on a ranch, Lennie develops an obsession with the owner's daughter-in-law, who takes advantage of Lennie’s childlike mental state. When George and Lennie are handed an opportunity to own part of the ranch, Lennie's fascination with the daughter-in-law threatens to destroy their dreams, it ends in tradegy after the daughter-in-law dies.George and Lennie run away but it ultimately ends with George shooting Lennie in the back of the head.

Quotes

One of the most memorable and well known scenes, is the final scene with George and Lennie. And the most remembered quotes from said scene are about Rabbits.

They talk about what they’re going to have on their farm in the future, and Geroge says that they’re going to have a field of Rabbit. Lennie then says, he will get to tend to the rabbits - just before George kills him.

George : We're gonna have a cow, and some pigs, and we're gonna have, maybe, maybe, a chicken. Down in the flat, we'll have a little field of...

Lennie : Field of alfalfa for the rabbits.

George : ...for the rabbits.

Lennie : And I get to tend the rabbits.

George : [Shoots Lennie in the head]

other quotes from the film include;

George : Guys like us that work on ranches are the loneliest guys in the world. They ain't got no family and they don't belong no place. They got nothin' to look ahead to...

Lennie : But not us George. Tell about us.

George : ...well, we ain't like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us. If them other guys gets in jail they can rot for all anybody cares.

Lennie : But not us, George, because I... see, I got you to look after me, but you got me to look after you.

This quote is significant when you look back after watching the film, because you know what happens and how Lennie trusted George, and how he didn’t really understand what was happening.

Similarly to the book to covers, most of the alternative film posters display George and Lennie walking down a road or dirt track, once again symbolising how they are both on a journey/adventure. This poster uses real life photography and the typography is also nice - I like the way the ‘Mice’ and the ‘Men’ are bigger, and when people see those words together, they immediately think of the story.

The artist used illustration to create this film poster, but it could also be re-created using printing methods, like screen-printing or lino printing. I also like the font used on this poster - it’s simple but also eyecatching, the way the background landscape is layered is also nice - as it gives the poster some depth. The poster also involves subtle nods to the story, like the addition of rabbits, which are used as symbolism throughout the film. As well as the gun and bag in George’s hands.

The font used on these posters, look like old font that would have been used in the time when the book is set. Another common theme in these posters is the use of silhouettes, making George and Lennie the foreground, while the background is typically more detailed and adds the scene.

I particularly like teh poster on the right, this is because I like the use of the spiral. The colour of the background is yellow and the lines gives the texture and look of a cornfield, linking back to how George and Lennie got jobs on a ranch. The spiral could also represent how things spiralled out of control and they could do longer keep control of their dreams and situation. The spiral also ends at a farm - like how they dreamed they owned a farm together and tended to animals. In amongst the “corn”, are characters from the story - like George, Lennie and the daughter-in-law. There are also rabbits dotted amongst them.