#this is the third time in his 4 year life he's had to be coned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

realcube · 4 years ago

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haikyuu!! boys dating you for a bet then falling hcs 💘

characters: oikawa, kuroo & osamu

tw// angst to fluff, swearing, sexual references - minor dni!

OIKAWA’S AND KUROO’S ARE AGED UP !

thank you anon for this request 😚

Tōru Oikawa

everyone on the team was teasing him for getting broken up with bc he was ‘too obsessed with volleyball’

he had finally had enough and made a bet with iwaizumi, matsukawa and hanamaki that he could get a s/o quicker than any of them

they accepted ofc but that’s when oikawa learned that hanamaki was already talking to a girl he liked which meant that it was a race against time for oikawa to find someone to date

in reality, he had no interest in dating atm but he had to do this for the sake of his pride

he settled on asking you out bc you were his lab partner for chemistry and even before the bet, he was making playful flirtatious banter with you but it’s not like he had any real feelings for you which meant that breaking up with you afterwards would be simple..right?

also, asking you out would be an easy win

and it was 🤠

oikawa won the bet and regained some confidence which meant he was now free to break up with you

buuuut y’all had only just started dating so he didn’t want to break up with you before the first date so he postponed the break up until after y’all went to the movies together

then the night came - he had just came back home for your first date at the movies, he took you to see an alien invasion movie and you said you loved it

he stared at his phone which was open on IMessage, on your contact; his fingers hovered over the keypad but the words didn’t come to him the way he expected

the more he thought about, he realised that you guys hadn’t even had your first kiss yet and he wanted to give you a sweet memory to leave you with before he inevitably dumped you so he decided to postpone the break-up again, until you guys had your first kiss

and since his messenger was open, he invited you on a second date to the park where you had your first kiss over a shared cone of vanilla ice-cream

honestly, he had such a great time on the date that in the moment, he completely forgot about the fact he had to break-up with you so here he was again, sitting on his bed and looking down at his phone glumly as he searched his brain for the right words to say

but when he allows his mind to wonder for too long, it always comes back to one thing

so figured that he’d hold off breaking-up with you until your first time and from there — depending on how good you are — he’ll decide whether he wants to dump you or keep you around just as a side fling

the day eventually came three months later, not that he was complaining though as he’s developed a lot more patience since he’s started dating you

you had just came back from a date at the bowling alley and something about seeing Oikawa in bowling shoes and a partially unbuttoned shirt was enough to make you go feral so as soon as you arrived at his house, y’all went for it

in all honesty, sex with you just hit different for oikawa

it was nothing like he’s ever experienced before

like it was kind, sensual and filled with mutual praise and he truthfully never wanted it to end but once it did and he was sprawled out on the bed next you, breathing heavily with your fingers intertwined, he realised that he didn’t want to break up with anymore

the last 4 months that you guys have been dating, truthfully was the best time of his life, like he feels so happy and genuine when he’s around you, there’s no way he’d leave you now

‘I love you, (y/n).’ he hummed, turning his head to the side to look at your peaceful figure laying next him - god, you’re beautiful

‘I love you too, Tōru.’

Tetsurō Kuroo

him and bokuto had a bet to see who could fuck more ppl in a month

the third year gym squad gc was confused but not too confused i mean this is kuroo and bokuto we’re talking about

akaashi, kenma and tsukishima were all disapproving of this idea for their own reasons

akaashi thought it was immoral while kenma and tsukishima thought it was just a ‘who can get an std first competition’

as for hinata and lev, shōyō had his bet on bokuto while lev was rooting for kuroo

kuroo was going to start his hunt for sex partners at the club tonight but he had already agreed that he’d do the business assignment with you tonight and since it was a partnered thing, he’d feel guilty if he opted out last minute

he sat on his bed while you took a seat at his desk, working away at the project while kuroo ‘supervised’

kuroo was bummed that bokuto was probably getting laid rn while he was stuck in his room doing an assignment- WAIT

you were here with him ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ and he was like..90% sure you had the thing for him soooo

he immediately sprung up from his bed and shuffled towards you, grabbing your hips to momentarily lift you up so he could pull you away from the project and onto his lap as he sat on his bed, tracing your jaw with his finger

‘time for a break~’ he cooed in your ear, massaging your thigh with spare hand, ‘only if want though, doll.’

xdfghj OFC YOU DID

consent = given ✨

kuroo = hard

your sex = destroyed

ass = red

you = overstimulated as hell 💅

if you started during the day, expect the sun to have gone down by the time y’all were finished

he offered to take you on a date so you both could do this again sometime and you said yes

but he reassured himself that you were only a hook up- definitely nothing serious- no feelings whatsoever

so a week later, he took you on a sweet, wholesome date to a carnival and you got railed afterwards 🥰

your next few dates went in a similar way until one fateful day where you were just..tired

neither of you really wanted to smash tbh, you were just happy laying in each other’s arms

and as time went on, you guys went on more dates where there was absolutely no sexual activities, just sweet intimacy

and he...... liked it

why did he like it???

you were nothing more than a sexual relief to him, right??

so why did he enjoy cuddling with you so much? shouldn’t he be fuckin you rn? but he didn’t want to...like he was lowkey vibin with you in his arm while watching modern family

then he looked down at you in his arms, the light of the screen highlighting your features beautifully

‘i think i might actually want to marry you one day.’ he blurted out, lightly tracing the bridge of your nose with his finger

this caught you off-guard so you looked up at him, an adorable pink blush dusting your cheeks, ‘really?’ was all you could think to reply

‘yeah.’

Osamu Miya

ofc it was a bet with atsumu ofc it was a bet with atsumu

‘who could get the hotter s/o competition?’ and suna would decide who wins

the twins had a month to get a s/o who was hot asf

so osamu asked you out in maths bc you were the most attractive person he kinda already talks too

you said yes as you sorta kinda maybe had a lil’ thing for him

however, he didn’t even ask you out on a date

in fact, he barely even talked to you after he asked you out until the day came where suna judged which miya twin won the bet

osamu did ofc

then he kinda forgot y’all were dating until one day you snapped him with the caption ‘???’

he was like ‘hey’

sorry i firmly believe he is the driest texter

anyway he felt bad for neglecting you for over a month so he said he’d make it up to you by taking you out to dinner

but he promised himself that dinner was only an apology and right afterwards, he’d cut you off

he was scrolling through his phone, looking for places to take you and although he wanted to just get take-out, even he knew that fast-food probably wasn’t a very romantic date idea

wait- he didn’t care about it being romantic- did he??

eventually he settled on an expensive restaurant bc getting you a take-away probably wasn’t a very good apology

so anyway he took you out and he actually had a pretty good time ^^

i mean, when you coincidentally ordered the same thing off the menu as him- he kinda caught feelings

osamu would definitely realise that he fell for you faster than oikawa and kuroo

just the way his hand just feels a pull towards yours when you’re walking side-by-side is a dead giveaway

so once the date is over and he dropped you off at your house, instead of breaking up with you as he planned, he simply placed a tender kiss on your forehead and smiled, ‘we should do this again soon.’

when he saw the way your face lit up and you squealed slightly, he knew he made the right decision

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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The Great Drive: James Hunt and Niki Lauda at Fuji, 1976

I feel really sorry for Niki. I feel sorry for everybody that the race had to be run in such ridiculous circumstances because the conditions were dangerous and I fully appreciate Niki’s decision. After an accident like he had, what else could he do? Quite honestly, I wanted to win the championship and I felt I deserved it. But I also felt Niki deserved to win the championship – and I just wish we could have shared it.

- James Hunt on winning the Japanese Grand Prix 1976 to become F1 World Champion

James Hunt’s epic title battle with Niki Lauda, during what many see as the definitive F1 season, was topped off by a thrilling race in the land of the rising sun. It became an instant classic, one of F1’s Great Drives.

With everything to lose, in treacherous conditions, and with late drama, James Hunt's drive in the 1976 Japanese Grand Prix was one of the greatest of all time.

James Hunt delivered his greatest drive in spite of himself. It wasn’t just the peak moment of his career, but also a defining drive for F1.

The British gentleman racer conquering the world’s best in far away lands – Hunt embodied it.

Despite this, the Brit’s landmark drive came in the midst of late night escapades, mechanical disasters, psychological warfare and F1 politics.

As the ‘76 season approached its climax in North America and Asia, it seemed all might be lost for the McLaren team and its lead driver. Hunt had been duelling with Ferrari’s Niki Lauda throughout the year, but losing his British Grand Prix win to disqualification (announced by the FIA at Round 14 in Canada) seemed to have derailed his season for good.

McLaren team manager at the time Alastair Caldwell describes the state of affairs as they approached the North American leg of the season: “We abandoned the idea of winning the world championship. I let him misbehave in Canada and in Watkins Glen. On both occasions we were pissed on race eve, both of us in a bar after midnight getting rotten – me on alcohol and him on women, because he was always very successful with women.

“James met a girl – the leader of the band at the motel in Montreal – and so he came to the race dishevelled, in the same clothes as he’d been wearing the previous night – and he won the race!

“Even then we still thought we were out of it. Then we won Watkins Glen too! So suddenly we became serious again.”

Lauda had scored 4 points to Hunt’s 18 in this period. With the championship fight back on, the rejuvenated team and driver looked at the season finale in a new light. The championship fight was back on, and as a result, McLaren prepared for the Japanese GP with renewed vigour.

James Hunt had been in Japan a fortnight, ostensibly to test at a circuit new to him. Delays at customs, car problems and bad weather had severely restricted his running, but at least now he was totally orientated and, in his inimitable fashion, ‘relaxed’. That meant when he wasn’t strutting his stuff on the hotel’s squash court, he was billing and cooing with its latest migratory flock of pretty air stewardesses to bed. It beat jogging.

Lauda arrived later, low-key and at a low ebb. The spirit that held the demons at bay during his remarkable Monza comeback had evaporated in Canada and America. Now running on empty, he was full of doubts. While Ferrari team manager Daniele Audetto attempted to whip up retro oppo to McLaren’s ‘illegal’ testing, his star driver looked the other way and wished it over: Lauda was sick of Enzo and his minions, of a season in its 10th month and of press intrusion.

McLaren’s earlier preparations were in sharp contrast to the rest of the field who arrived just for the race weekend itself. According to Caldwell, “The others all turned up on the Thursday, including Niki, you can see them all get off the plane knackered and then trying to find where this new racetrack was.”

It wasn’t just through testing and acclimatisation that Hunt and McLaren stole a march. Caldwell thought he might use interactions with the press to his advantage: “Just for a laugh we spread a rumour. A journalist said to me ‘what’s the track like?’ I said ‘It’s is good but it’s got a lot of loose gravel on it.’”

Enjoying the effect the track surface story had on the rest of the field’s preparations, Caldwell thought he’d develop the rumour into a full-blown design feature.

“Because we were bored and had nothing else to do, the mechanics made mesh covers for all the air intakes on the car, to “protect” the brake ducts and air intake.

“Then Niki (Lauda) came down to our garage, which he always did – he spent more time in our garage then Ferrari’s. He would joke with us and do mechanic’s repartee.

“Psychologically we had them on the back foot right from the start.”

“Niki had come to see what we’d done with the cars as he was also a spy. So I told the mechanics, ‘just by mistake’, to take the covers off the cars so you could see the mesh covers on all the intakes. They did this and then they put it back on in a hurry while I ‘looked displeased’.

“And so then Niki broke off the conversation, trotted back to Ferrari and said ‘f**king hell, McLaren have put vents near these grilles over everything in the car, we got to do the same.’

“The whole Ferrari organisation went out to find these grilles, find where they came from and make them for their three cars. Then we put our three cars in the pit road and took all the grilles off the T-Car. Niki came down and said ‘You f**king bastards!’ They came down the pitroad and Ferrari had this shit all over their car – these grilles all over the radiators.

“He had to tear back and tell them to take them all off. Psychologically we had them on the back foot right from the start, there’s all this psychological warfare.”

Niki was plastered across front pages because of his near-death experience on the track; James was on them because of the life he led off it. Their battle and clashing personalities, though they were good friends, had made the world championship a global news shit-fight. Hunt, outgoing but often lonely in a crowd, pretended to be okay with it. Lauda didn’t.

Friday’s practice sessions provided blessed relief, therefore, even though both men suffered understeer on the stickier Goodyears made available to its faster teams because of the rare presence of Bridgestone and Dunlop on one-off Japanese entries. The title rivals finished the day one-hundredth apart on a provisional third row.

Each improved on Saturday – Hunt to second, Lauda to third – and James, a notoriously slow starter who, by his own estimation, needed to win the race in order to become world champion, was in a much-improved mood. Niki’s never budged.

Then it rained. And rained. And rained some more.

The storm that swept in from China a day later than forecast was the last thing Lauda needed: another element beyond his control. Mist shrouded the snow cone of Mount Fuji, which supposedly bestowed good fortune – when visible – and Niki felt hemmed in by circumstance.

The mind-games might well have been in vain, for the monsoon weather which rolled in on Sunday looked like putting the race in jeopardy. If the Grand Prix was cancelled, Lauda would be handed the World Championship.

Not that Hunt was enamoured with the situation. He spoke privately with Lauda and agreed an attempt to have the race postponed – albeit not before he stressed that he would take the start if necessary and race as hard as Niki forced him to.

The Grand Prix Drivers Association had been formed to have some influence on such matters, to stop the interests of teams, the governing body and sponsors taking precedence over drivers’ well being. Hunt and Lauda were both members and convened prior to the race start in an effort to have it stopped.

“They were adamant the race wasn’t going to be held. Bernie (Ecclestone, Brabham team boss) and I were in the race control tower trying to convince them to hold the race.” says Caldwell “And James kept on saying ‘No no, we’re not going to race’. I tried to explain to him that no race meant no World Championship. He replied “No, no, no, it’s totally unsuitable, we can’t race”.

Alistair Caldwell, McLaren Team boss, resorted to more imaginative tactics to swing the mood towards starting the race.

“I was going down (to the pits) getting my car mechanics to start the engines every half an hour, which would make all the other teams start doing it – they didn’t know why. The engines were making this noise ‘woop, woop, woop’”.

The engineer then turned his attention to activating the spectators.

“I was trying to get some enthusiasm from the passive Japanese crowd, they’d been there for hours doing nothing. They weren’t even talking, just sitting in the rain – miserable.

“I said to our tyre man Lance Gibbs ‘Do you think you could get the crowd going?’ So he got up on the pitwall with his ACME Thunderer whistle, which had been given to the boys to use as a horn, for when they pushed the race cars around the paddock.

“He went ‘beep beep’ and hundreds of spectators did the same – got them doing a concert. We then did the business of slow clapping, when it gets to the end, people can’t keep up, they lose co-ordination and you get a huge noise.

“I went back to the tower and the geriatric Japanese officials and said, ‘Look, you’ve got a riot on your hands’ Bernie was there and he said ‘Yeah, you’ve gotta hold the race. Otherwise you’ll have trouble’. So they said ‘Ok we’ll have the race.’”

With the decision made, the cars finally lined up to start at 4pm. The deliberations had been going on so long that the light was now beginning to fade, reducing the limited visibility even further.

Hunt, nervously retching and hacking more than ever, was so distracted that he took a leak in full view of the spectators. Cue polite applause. Ominously, he then walked a plank laid across a puddle and stepped aboard his McLaren M23. He tipped his helmet back against its roll-hoop and closed his eyes in contemplation. Lauda, crushed by all that had gone before, hunched forward in his 312 T2’s cockpit. Both knew that fate was about to be sorely tempted.

Hunt made a blinding start and held a huge lead by the end of the opening lap. As the rest pecked hesitantly in his rooster-tails, he was out of sight, both physically and metaphorically.

Meanwhile, Lauda, unable to blink because of his burn injuries, was drowning in the pack and questioning his sanity. He formulated an answer by lap two. The Ferrari – “a paper boat in a storm” – rolled into the pitlane and drew up at its garage. Measured. The team descended while designer Mauro Forghieri craned into its cockpit to ascertain the problem.

After just 1 lap, Lauda had seen enough. Deeming the conditions too dangerous, and having already nearly lost his life at Nürburgring that year, the Austrian decided it simply wasn’t worth carrying on. He pulled his Ferrari into the pits and walked away from the 1976 World Championship. Lauda, the reigning world champion, had the skill but not the will to continue. It was “murder” out there – and life was for living.

Hunt, as drivers without a world title feel compelled to, pressed on and kept his date with destiny. Hunt being Hunt, of course, he almost missed it. Not until his post-race red mist lifted could he be persuaded that he hadn’t.

With Lauda out the race, Hunt’s task was now a little more straightforward. He simply had to finish third, and the title was his.

The McLaren driver pressed on and by lap 10 his lead had doubled to over 8sec. Meanwhile, interesting movements were afoot further back in the pack.

Local hero Kazuyoshi Hoshino, driving a privately-entered Tyrrell 007, had made his up to third, from 21st on the grid!

More worrying for Hunt was that March’s Vittorio Brambilla had overtaken Andretti and was beginning to hunt him down. By lap 20, Brambilla had closed right up behind the Hunt.

On the next lap, the March driver decided to go for it. Brambilla, known for an erratic driving style, conformed to type on this occasion by inadvertently out-braking himself as he dived down the inside of the McLaren.

Hunt had been wary of Brambilla and was monitoring the situation constantly. In a moment of brilliant anticipation, he allowed the March to spin in front of him, performing the cutback and before carrying on as if almost nothing had happened.

Brambilla dropped to fourth, the danger to Hunt being over for now. Andretti at this point was gradually dropping back through the pack. It was Hunt’s team-mate Jochen Mass who was behind him now, with a McLaren 1-2 now looking very much on the cards.

Seeking to control the race from here on in, the team’s new concern was the drying line which was now appearing on the track. Caldwell put out a pit board sign telling his drivers to cool their wet weather tyres – this was done by searching for wet sections of the track, the water preventing the rubber from overheating.

To his team manager’s frustration, Hunt didn’t appear to be heeding the warnings: “As soon as Mass saw the sign, he pulled over in the water right in front of us. Then on the next lap he came down the right hand side of the track, splashing through the puddles, which cools the tires down, (while) James didn’t react.

“The next lap we gave it to Hunt again, the next lap again, he still didn’t do it. So we took away the pitboard, just gave him the ‘cool tyres’ sign and he still didn’t react. So then everyone in the team started pointing at it (the sign). Everybody in the team pointed, Teddy (Mayer, McLaren Managing Director) and everyone else and he still did nothing.”

Hunt carried on down the dry line, running his tyres way above their recommended temperature, seemingly oblivious to the warnings.

If Hunt wasn’t going to heed the warnings, then Andretti was: “Because we were emphasising this so much, Andretti saw it and started to cool his tyres. So he started running through the puddles. He didn’t have to stop (as a result).

“But James just resolutely drove down the middle of the dry track, and we could never bring him in, because he was never that far ahead. It was never possible to tactically stop him because there’s a big long pitroad at Fuji.”

Jochen Mass, benefitting from his team’s tyre advice, now began to reel in his team-mate. If he got past, he would have no trouble driving off into the distance to take the win.

However, the German’s diligence came to naught, as he spun off and out of contention on lap 36. This would have a huge bearing on the race later.

For now, Hunt was again in the clear. Another challenger, Shadow’s Tom Pryce, moved into second, but he too retired as his Cosworth engine expired on lap 46.

As the grand prix wore on, Hunt remained in a seemingly trance-like state as he stuck to his line, the situation became critical.

Whilst yet another to danger to Hunt had abated, the McLaren driver was now deciding whether to play the percentages. He could either pit to replace his worn tyres – and lose track position – or try and stick it out at the risk of losing so much grip he would be overtaken anyway.

Hunt took the second option. He could afford to drop to third, and this is indeed what happened. On lap 61, he was overtaken not only by Tyrrell’s Patrick Depailler, but also the resurgent Lotus of Andretti.

If Hunt managed to hold position, he would be world champion. For the next 7 laps, the plan appeared to be working. Then, on lap 68, disaster struck.

The McLaren driver suffered not one, but two deflated tyres – both on the left-hand side of the car. They were, as Caldwell puts it, “worn down to the air”. Hunt managed to drag his car round for half a lap before scraping into the pits.

F1 jacks at the time were not designed to lift a car with puncture at the front and rear of the car. While the jack was used to lift the rear of the car, TV shots show Caldwell and other team members lifting the other end of the car themselves to replace the front-left tyre.

It was a long pitstop, and once out, Hunt found himself back in fifth place. There were four laps left and Hunt was two places down on where he needed to be.

Two more laps passed and the Englishman was no further up the order. It looked as if he may have lost his championship chance.

Then, with two laps left of the race to go, Hunt started the fight back. At the exit of T1 he managed to get past the Surtees of Alan Jones. One more place and the championship was his.

Next up was the Ferrari of Clay Regazzoni. It turned out there were some Scuderia politics at play which would work to Hunt’s advantage.

Caldwell filled in the back story: “Ferrari’s reaction to Niki’s crash was to sack Regazzoni (for 1977). He had already been sacked (by Fuji).

“So he was pissed off at Ferrari. When James came charging along, he just stepped out of the way and let him by.”

After benefitting from Regazzoni’s apparent generosity, Hunt was suddenly back in the golden position, the third place he needed to clinch the championship.

The McLaren man just had to keep it on the road for two more laps and he’d take the title. The tension mounted, both in the team pit and back in the UK, where his family were watching the live television feed at 3am.

Despite two nerve-wracking final laps, the Englishman duly brought his McLaren home in third place. He was the new F1 World Champion.

Photographs show Hunt angrily remonstrating with his team as he climbed from the car. He hadn’t realised he’d got the job done.

Caldwell himself had mixed emotions about the whole affair, “He didn’t look at the board and when he came into the pits he started shouting at us, because he didn’t know what happened. He was incredibly annoying on the day. He did drive magnificently, he kept it on the road – that’s one point of view. From my point of view it was the most frustrating day – I could’ve hit him with a baseball bat! He could have won the race, just strolled the world championship. All he had to do was read this pitboard and drive in the water, which is what Andretti did, so he didn’t wear the tyres out and could paddle across the line with the same ones.”

In spite of Hunt seemingly making a championship-losing decision, he had still managed to pull it off.

However, such was Caldwell’s consternation, the two didn’t discuss afterwards.

I was so angry about it. We flew back to England and I wasn’t talking to him on the plane. He was pissed as a newt anyway – we were all pissed as a newt and totally exhausted. He just went to sleep.”

The two never discussed the reasons behind the events, but it didn’t change the result. Three years after making his F1 debut, Hunt was the world champion.

Ten weeks later Hunt arrived in Argentina to begin his title defence feeling underwhelmed and under-prepared. A few celebratory cigs and tins with his friend Britain’s newly crowned 500cc motorcycle world champion, Barry Sheene, at Fuji and a riotous return flight had been followed by a disorientating whirl of meetings, interviews and engagements. The race-by-race title chase had been thrilling: a sequence of one-day stands. Making it official had cooled the relationship. The love affair was over.

Though both men would retire summarily during the 1979 season, Hunt did so because he felt frightened and disillusioned, whereas Lauda did so because he felt nothing, which frightened him.

Niki, though, had a system – plus a plan to run his own airline – and ultimately would return to the F1 cockpit and be successful. James, whose theories were sometimes somewhat scrambled, would not. He bred budgies instead. You do what you have to do.

Lauda’s decision to stop at Fuji ensured that he would be able to continue. Hunt’s decision to continue ensured that he would have to stop sooner rather than later. One racing mind wiped clean, the other cluttered – and racing.

In spite of his career’s decline, Hunt’s endeavours had captured the imagination of the wider world in a way no racing driver had done before.Hunt knew that life was for living, too. Tragically, however, he had just discovered how best to when fate too soon snatched it from him.

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hamueltobin · 4 years ago

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behold! i didn't see any otgw icebergs, so i made my own :)

if you think i should add something, lmk!!

Explanations under cut :)

First layer:

▪︎Beast!Wirt au - very popular au in which Wirt stays in the Unknown, possessed by the Beast to some extent.

▪︎Bad End Friends - Crossover AU of Beast!Wirt teaming up with Ice Finn from Adventure Time and Bipper from Gravity Falls; sometimes other 'bad end' au characters are thrown in such as a glitched Gumball from TAWOG

▪︎Irl Copies of the For Sara tape - Limited copies of the For Sara tape were sold at two points. They have yet to sell for a third time. (🤞🤞🤞)

▪︎Tome of the Unknown (pilot) - The Pilot of the series. Can be watched on YouTube.

▪︎Wirt Staying in the Unknown - In a scrapped ending, Wirt was to stay in the Unknown, saying that facing your real problems was scarier than staying there.

▪︎Mystery Kids - Crossover AU with other child-late teens aged characters from sources based on mysterious and supernatural themes such as Gravity Falls and Psychonauts.

▪︎Quincy Endicott's grave - Quincy's grave can be seen in the graveyard that Sara and the others are hanging out in.

▪︎Original Beatrice Voice Actress - Beatrice had a different VA in the pilot, Natasha Leggero. Melanie Lynskey voices her in the actual series.

▪︎The Woodsman's Daughter is Named Anna - The comics have several issues focused on his daughter, in which her name is revealed to be Anna.

▪︎Jason Funderburker's Ax Murderer Story - At the gathering in the graveyard, Funderburker is telling a story about a man with an ax; this story is believed to have influenced the existence of the Woodsman.

▪︎Full Versions of Songs in the OST - A handful of the songs are cut down for their appearances in the series and can only be heard in full on the OST. The most notable example is Old Black Train , which is actually 2 minutes and 15 seconds long, but is only in the series for about 15-20 seconds.

Second Layer:

▪︎Sara is named after the Fleetwood Mac song - Listen to it here :) it is notable that it includes lyrics about "drowning in a sea of love" and that Sara is "the poet of [the singer's] heart."

▪︎OTGW Reanimated - a reanimated project for the first episode. Got taken off of YouTube, but can be viewed on Dailymotion.

▪︎Baby Wirt Audio - In the For Sara cassette, there is a small section of audio that can be heard in about the middle of the recording of Wirt's father talking to him as a baby.

▪︎Funderburker/Funderberker - The two Jasons's surnames are spelled slightly differently to avoid confusion.

▪︎The Brothers Never Ate or Needed to Rest - Although Greg expressed being hungry, neither of the boys actually ate anything (outside of one spoonful of bland potatoes and inedible items such as dirt and leaves) and never laid down to rest, only sleeping when night came.

▪︎Book on Interior Design in Wirt's Room - In Wirt's from, a book on interior design can be seen laying on the floor, backing up the knowledge he displayed when analyzing the interconnected mansions.

▪︎Mad Love was Based on a Dream - The plot of Mad Love came from a dream that Pat McHale had about house hunting. In the dream, while exploring one of the houses being shown, he ended up wandering into someone else's home.

▪︎Beatriceoftheday - A blog dedicated to our lord and savior Beatrice, known for its strange shitposts and intense praise of the titular bird girl.

▪︎Wirt is Jealous of Greg's Popularity - Shown in the Circus Friends issue of the comics, Wirt is jealous of Greg's ability to make everyone laugh and have fun. This may factor into his dislike of his brother.

▪︎Greg was Feeding Fred at the Tavern - At first watching, one may be confused as to where all the food Greg was gathering went, why Fred was wearing lipstick and why he was refusing to talk to Beatrice. Shown in a deleted scene, this all explained, as Fred tells Beatrice that he didn't talk to her because Greg was feeding him.

▪︎Elijah Wood Voiced the Crazy Driver - Exactly what is says on the tin, the nutty driver was voiced by Wood.

▪︎Cloud City is Heaven - A popular theory that Cloud City actually represents Heaven.

▪︎Greg is Greg Universe - A headcanon/theory that has mostly died out that Greg is the same Greg in Steven Universe.

▪︎Bee Beatrice - Beatrice was originally cursed to become a bee, but was changed into a bluebird to match better with the seasonal autumn theme.

▪︎Pat McHale Voiced Wirt's Voice Crack - Wirt's voice crack when asking the Beast Are You? was actually done by McHale, not Wood.

▪︎The Other Actors Harassing Elijah Wood When Singing Wirt's Song - In order to make the performance as awkward as possible, the other actors were asked to yell and demand Wirt to sing. This can be heard in the episode.

▪︎Come Wayward Souls Has the Same Melody as O Holy Night - The song shares a cadence with "O Holy Night", and can be sung to its tune.

▪︎Black Turtles Origin/Purpose - No one knows why the black turtles exist, and McHale has said that they're just one of the unexplainable things of the Unknown.

▪︎Anna Never Left the House - In the aforementioned comics, it is shown that Anna had never left the house, living on her own until the Woodsman's return.

▪︎Sailor Suit Greg - Greg originally wore a sailor suit, but was changed later on to his current, Johnny Appleseed inspired outfit .

▪︎Beatrice Missing Being Able to Flip People Off - In the Art Book, Beatrice's introduction states that one of the reasons she hates being a bird is because she no longer has hands to flip people off with.

Third Layer

▪︎Jason Funderberker is Visually Based on a Teen Pat McHale - As seen here, Funderberker was designed after McHale.

▪︎Babes in the Wood is Based on an Old Alice in Wonderland Cartoon - You can view the original 1923 cartoon here! Starts at 4:25.

▪︎Wirt and Sara are Dipper and Mabel's Parents - A popular AU/hc where Dipper and Mabel of Gravity Falls are the future kids of Wirt and Sara.

▪︎The Tune of Wirt's Song is Improvised - In addition to the aforementioned harassment, in a further attempt to make the performance as awkward as possible, Elijah Wood was not given a tune to sing, only the lyrics.

▪︎Wirt's Costume Origin - As said in the art book and on his tumblr, Wirt's cone and cape come from an attempted rock and roll persona from McHale's teen years.

▪︎Greg is Based on Pat McHale's Son - It has been claimed that Greg is based on McHale's son, but Greg existed before him. The similarities are simply coincidental.

▪︎Old Scratch - The original name of the Beast.

▪︎The Beast Killed the Woodsman's Wife - Shown in the comics, The Woodsman's wife was mortally injured, with her attacker implied to be the Beast.

▪︎Wirt and Greg Staying in the Unknown Until Christmas - Another scrapped ending, in which the brothers stay in The Unknown until Christmas, with their absence unexplained.

▪︎Tome of the Unknown (original plot) - Early concepts had the Beast ( then known as Old Scratch as mentioned earlier ) scattering the pages of the titular book for the brothers to collect. Each page would come to life and the brothers would explore each story.

▪︎Dante's Inferno Comparisons - Check out these videos for full analysis!

▪︎Wirt Panty Shots - In the aforementioned Circus Friend comics, Wirt dons a dress as part of a disguise. Later on, he rips off the bottom half off, revealing that he is wearing bloomers.

▪︎The Beast's True Form was Inspired by Trypophobia - As stated in the art book, The Beast's hole-filled appearance was inspired by Trypophobia, the fear of many small holes.

▪︎The Fight is Over is About Drowning - Give the lyrics another read.

▪︎The Beast Last Minute Design Change - The Beast had a very different design, and it was changed into the current one at the last minute.

▪︎Gnome in Cloud City Representing Wirt - Many people believed that the Gnome with the lantern in cloud city was a parallel to Wirt, or a glimpse into his future. However, this was debunked.

▪︎Send Me a Peach - This song is included in the ost, but isn't in the actual series.

▪︎Fred and the Highwayman's Backstory - The comics expand upon the story of Fred the Horse and his involvement with the Highwayman.

Fourth Layer

▪︎Babes in the Wood Title Origin - The name of this episode comes from an old story of a pair of children getting lost in the woods, dying, and being buried in leaves by robins.

▪︎poorlydrawnotgw - This was a blog created during the poorly drawn series meme period. It consisted of poorly drawn and very strange shitposts and has since been deactivated. I was a part of it as mod Goopy Wirt and only have a handful of images saved from it.

▪︎Read and Listen Book Lost Audio - A read and listen book was created, with the book being read by Greg's Frog, who would stop every now and again to talk about being a frog. The pages can be found online, but the audio is currently lost.

▪︎Skinless Witch - A scrapped episode concept involved a skinless witch that kidnapped Greg and rode him like a horse.

▪︎Gentleman Burglar Wirt - A scrapped concept in which Wirt breaks into a woman's home, who is charmed by this young man who has come to visit her.

▪︎Animal Transformation - It was originally planned for Wirt and Greg to be turned into a bear/dog and a duck and remain that way for several episodes. This was later used in the comics.

▪︎The Unknown is influenced by Wirt's mind/interests - The Unknown is influenced by those who walk in it, in this case, Wirt. This includes the old timey mystical nature of it, as Wirt has been stated to have an interest in old folk tales.

▪︎Good Guy Beast/Black Train Scrapped Concept - In an earlier draft, the brothers were on a train, heading to what they assumed was death. They jump off, ending up in the Unknown. The Beast tries to get them back on the train, which turns out to be heading back to life.

▪︎Evil Woodsman - At one point, the Woodsman was intended to be under the influence of the Beast and tried to sabotage the brothers's attempts to return home.

▪︎Lorna Reading the Tome of the Unknown in the Epilogue - In the epilogue, Lorna can be seen reading the titular book from the aforementioned scrapped plot.

▪︎The Beast was Originally the Devil Himself - The Beast was first designed as a devil-like character, the aforementioned Old Scratch.

▪︎The Brothers Never Went Home/The Hospital is Part of The Unknown - a theory based on the fact that the edges of the screen are still blurred at the end of chapter 10, the rushed narration, and the lack of consequences of nearly drowning.

▪︎Beatrice Seeing Wirt Nude - In one of the comics, Beatrice accidentally sees Wirt while he is washing his clothes in the river.

▪︎Sara is a Descendant of Lorna - A theory that Sara is a distant relative of Lorna.

▪︎Exists in the Same Universe as Clarence and Home Movies - The most well known piece of evidence is the overhead shot of the town matching the town that Clarence is set in. Wirt and Greg also have a cameo in another episode, and one of the final episodes shows Brendon Small of Home Movies runs a movie rental store in the town, connecting all three series together.

Final Layer

▪︎Beast x Wirt - Also known as Poetree.

▪︎Candycone - Greg x Wirt.

#otgw #over the garden wall #iceberg #iceberg meme #iceberg image #otgw iceberg

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springtimebat · 4 years ago

Text

The Autumn Meeting (3/4)

Abram bounces up and down on the spot, his scales dancing across his forehead, his mouth a giant grin, teeth as sharp as knives.

“You’re gonna love it so much guys! You don’t understand! It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever conjured.”

“Just get it over with Abe,” Emil whines, checking a small clock in his breast pocket, “We’re already behind schedule.”

Abe stops dead and wraps his fins around his chest.

“Are you always this mean?” The Queen asks, shaking her head at Abram who stares at the floor.

“You’ve read about us, or so you say. Why don’t you tell me?”

The Queen rolls her eyes. Abram gives a wistful sigh. Gus, a disembodied head in the leaves, squeaks in a strange nonsense language that makes his friends smile.

“Start from the beginning this time Abram. I don’t want a repeat of the mermaid incident.”

“The mermaid incident?” The Queen asks

“He started from the middle. The girl already owned legs, yet she still longed for them.”

“That was one time!” Abram huffed, “Now is everyone settled? Or do you need to shout at me some more?”

All three attendants nod.

“Okay, now I’ll start.” He turned to their guest, “Your majesty, you might wanna cover your ears for the first few minutes. The beginning may be a bit muffled but many have been known to go deaf when I slip into my other voice.”

“Another voice?”

“You’ll see,” He grins. And so the third tale of the night begins at four in the afternoon:

{The Two Beings}

There were once two beings

One was of greys, blacks and whites

He lived amongst royalty

Survived in their courts

He never quite belonged

So he also held company with lower beings

Of slime and muck and grit

As the first being grew strong on their discarded remains

He left the royalty and the courts

And ruled along the paper margins of Fairy

Soon after he developed an interest in humans

A hobby many found unhealthy

He’d follow them around

Watched them

Children seemed to be the only humans that would listen to the ruler’s prattling

The being did not mind

For they were interesting

They filled a void that slime could not

Then

One day

The ruler met a second being

The second being was one of light

Of blues, greens, reds and pinks

She was human

She belonged to the upper wall

And she lived her life in chains

As bright and as ordinary as the ruler was dark, stark and strange

She spent her days alone

Hiding her beauty from the rest of the world

An assistant to twin brothers

Frogs

Toads

She was left to feed off of scraps

And to be whipped by a cruel guardian

The first being found his counterpart one night

One lonely night

Peering through his window

He caught her exhausted in rags

Torn at the hem

Hair bushy

Face muddy from soot

And of course

He immediately fell in love with her

So he began his pursuit

Observing her from his own realm

She was everything he was not

Everything he lacked

A great regard for life danced in her forget-me-not eyes

It was a short

Almost too short

Time

before the ruler of the muck and slime was certain she would be a suitable bride

And his determination grew

He’d leave tributes on her bedroom sill;

Pine cones, leaves, twigs and rocks

Each one she took from him

A special pieces of his soul

She tucked them all away

Never to be seen again

The girl ignored him

Acted as if he were not there

And so the challenge went on...

“Exeunt.”

Abram smiles, looking around the campgrounds for a response. Guy whistles and The Queen gives her second clap of the day. Emil, unchanging, shakes his head. Before he can respond, Abram begins again.

“I’m working on the middle...and the beginning…and the ending.”

“Obviously,” Emil snarks.

“Wait I’m confused,” The Queen stutters, “Was there an ending?”

“No,” Abram replies, confused, “Why would there be?”

“This is a workshop, your majesty. A story doesn’t need an ending if you don’t want it to.”

“I know it’s awful,” Abram frowns, anxious tears forming in his eyes like beads of smoked glass.

“I was thinking of adding a subplot with some gremlin people. Like, a parallel romance story line to kinda act as a comedic escape from all the existentialism-”

“Ah yes that would be very fine,” Emil grins, “Very fine indeed Abe my boy!”

“Y-yeah! I also thought maybe...you could help me with uh… some world building and structure and stuff. So it flows naturally.”

“Hmm, good idea. Good idea Abram.” Emil rolls his head back to the fire, which is starting to die out, “Say Abe, can you answer a question I have about your story?”

“Sure!”

“Is your story, perhaps, based on a particular person in this group tonight?”

Abram rolls his eyes, “It ain’t about you Emillian.”

“No not me you fool! Is it based on our guest of honour over there?”

The Queen’s eyes grow wide. Abram says nothing and begins to stare down at his feet again.

Emil smirks triumphantly, “Thought so.”

Gus’ thigh gives a little creak in the darkening wilderness.

“I know that Gus, but how many of those queens are sitting down here with us tonight?”

Gus shrugs a shoulder, giving up.

“Last year, you told me to be spontaneous,” Abram mumbles, “Now here I am, making up prose as I go, and you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it, Abe my boy! I just find it intolerable.”

Abram groans. The Queen sighs in annoyance.

“I’m terribly sorry for existing, sir.” She mutters.

“Good. You should be. But since you’re here you can give Abram some pointers for his story. Make yourself useful.”

“Pointers? What pointers could she give me?”

“She’s a queen you dolt! She knows all about rulers! She’s gonna marry one!”

“Oh yeah! Hey I do need help on the characters innermost fears and desires! Being stuck underwater most of the year makes you miss out on courtly endeavours.”

With that, Abram shuffles closer to the Queen’s makeshift throne. As the group reorganises, a high screech flies through the air above their heads, causing them to lift their eyes to the treetops. The Queen shudders and pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her dress shifts slightly. Only slightly. But it’s enough for the men to notice how her stomach swells underneath the fabric.

“So that’s it then,” Emil grimaces, “A bouncing baby boy. That’s why he’s marrying you.”

The Queen gives a warm smile and strokes her stomach with one hand, “He’s three months old.”

“A big thing for three months.”

A softer, yet hungrier scream pierces the forest and the queen goes back to hugging her cloak.

“It’s the corridors.”

“The corridors?”

“Yes. They’ve discovered I’m gone. They’ll be coming soon. How long will this take?”

“As long as we want it to.”

“My husband will be here soon and-”

“Exactly! That’s what we want to talk to you about. Now quick fussing! Abram! Ask one question now. We still have one story to get through.”

Abram grins, “What do you think of purity?”

“Purity?” The Queen repeats, taken aback.

“Yes, purity.”

The Queen swallows, “Purity, at least the ideas most people have about purity, are phantoms. Babes, the pure ones, the prideful ones, can handle cruelty in their stride. They hold glass shards in their eyes. Beware the little ones; they’ll devour your heart with knives, forks and all. The phantoms, these small shadows of ideas, lead you on and ensnare you in a pretty bear trap marked with flowers. Mark my words, the pure ones will eat you clean.”

The men stare at her. She shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s something my mother used to say to me.”

“Hmm,” Emil turns to Abram, “That has nothing to do with the King my boy. Ask another one about the king.”

“Oh no, please don’t! I don’t think-”

“Why? What do you not want us to find out? That he eats babies too?”

“Nothing! It’s just he told me things. Important secrets you only tell the person you wish to marry.”

“What things? What important secrets?”

“We were sat on the screen porch one day-”

“The what?”

“The screen porch. It’s a balcony in the castle, hidden away with an invisible tarp.”

“What’s its purpose?”

“The glass hides the rest of the world. Puts it on its side. And it keeps the insects out. The panels are covered in their eyeballs and guts-”

“How gruesome!”

“The king, an insect grower!”

“Imagine!”

“And a competent one at that!”

“The nerve of the rogue!”

“The view makes up for it. On that day of secrets, we were watching a sunset, spying on the angels.”

“Hmmph, angels!”

“Yes. The King was talking about angels, demons and the like-”

“Typical monarch!”

“He likes to discuss things that he can’t keep in cages.”

“Particularly to things he’s managed to trap.”

“Indeed, I suppose some would see it that way. I find talk of immortality fascinating.”

“You would, you immortal.”

“Future immortal. We were just finishing dessert when the king grabbed my hand and began to stroke the creases in my palm. When I looked up at him he said, “You know what I wish for? More than anything in the world?” I just said I could guess but I’d probably be wrong.”

“How humble of you.”

“He stopped for a moment and gazed up at the sun, on its last legs. Then he swallowed and looked back at me. He told me his biggest secret then.”

“And now you will tell us, three old pedallers. You will tell us an immortal’s Achilles heel?”

“Yes, I don’t see why not.”

“Very well child.”

“He turned and said-”

“What? What girl?”

“Isn’t it obvious? A soul.”

“A soul?”

“At first, I thought he had something caught in his throat. Like, he meant to say “soldier” or “solar panels”. Anything other than a soul.”

“Oh how perfectly ludicrous! An immortal obsessed with souls! That explains you finally. You’re his pet soul. A human girl he can point and laugh at.”

“I point and laugh at him much more than you realise. I didn’t laugh at him on this particular day. On soul day. I just hugged him.”

“And that right there is why he tolerates you. That’s why he wraps you in cotton wool and keeps you locked up with him. That’s why he smothers you with heavy brick walls.”

“Maybe so. It’s also the reason he asked for my hand.”

“That’s why he asked for your wrist. What’s your reason?”

“For our marriage?”

“Yes, sod it all, what was your reason for saying yes to him?”

“Well, I said yes because I love him and I was lonely. And he loves me and is lonely. That’s how these things tend to work.”

“Why do you love him?”

“Obviously because he’s the grower of insects!”

“I suppose that’s a requirement then? To love a king?”

“That and a pretty sunset.”

“How trivial.”

Suddenly, Abram gives a giant huff. Everyone turns back to him, kicking his legs in the dirt.

“Sure! Sure! It’s fine when Emil interrupts me but when I interrupt his story to ask a simple question. Oh no! Blasphemy! I’m a degenerate! You know what Emillian? I like my story as it is! No subplots, no ending, no superfluous detail, nothing! I don’t need any of this nonsense! What kind of king just sits in a giant flytrap all day, eating babies and wishing about souls and angels and demons and…ugh! I’m done with this Emillian! It took me twenty years to be invited here and I always get treated like mud. But this takes the cake! Enjoy your new companion. I’m going to where I’ll be respected. That’s what I’m doing! Hang around the royalty you despise. Enjoy yourself.” Abram starts stomping away, then stops, picking up a piece of Gus’ chest plate, “And I’m taking Gussie with me!”

He gives a growl then leaves, ignoring the groups’ stunned silence as he gives himself to the shadows.

“Should we go after him or-”

“No. He’ll be back. He just needs to cool off.” Emil replies, gazing up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set and the shadows were getting stronger.

“We haven’t got much more time,” The Queen explains, “The king will probably start searching the woods soon and he hates it when I go out on my own-”

“Very well,” Emil interrupts, calmly, “Start your story now. Abram will have to miss out just this once. Poor old guy.”

The Queen sighs with relief and rests back into her throne.

On the outskirts of the never ending forest, encased in smoke, shadows and carcasses, the city of tomorrow outstretches a wary leg. It has waited patiently. It has called her name for hours. Now it will wait no more. After a moment of hesitation, it slips into the trees, merely a grotesque silhouette.

#creative writing #my story #ongoing series #part three of four #fantasy #horror #surrealism #surrealist #parallel worlds #monsters #cryptids #cryptidcore #weirdcore #oddcore #american gothic #southern gothic #nonsense fiction

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poorrichardslegacy · 4 years ago

Text

Kacxa Week 2020 Day 4 - Retro Kacxa

Nightmares

SUMMARY: Ten-year-old Acxa and nine-year old Keith both suffer recurring nightmares in their respective orphanages…about each other.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874736

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Acxa/Keith (Voltron) Characters: Acxa (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) Additional Tags: Kacxa Week 2020, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

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

Acxa

The nightmare is back, for the third night in a row.

Acxa has somehow managed to fly her ship into the belly of a gigantic space beast. How she got there, and how long she has been there, she has no clue.

Her right arm and right leg are injured, and she is bleeding from a cut on her forehead. Outside, strange amoeba-like creatures attack her ship, slowly dissolving it. Vine-like fibers are wrapped around the vessel, slowly crushing it.

A chill runs down her spine. She sees no way out. Is this how she is supposed to die? Alone inside the belly of a beast?

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

She awakens in a cold sweat, sitting up in bed, thrashing about and looking around frantically to get her bearings.

“Hey…Acxa…it’s me. Did you have that nightmare again?”

Hearing a familiar voice, ten-year-old Acxa Combari begins to settle down. She is in the sleeping quarters of the orphanage on Corillia, where she has been since the death of her mother. The comforting voice belongs to her best friend, Ezor Corderian

“Breathe slowly. You’re turning purple. Trust me girl, purple is not your color. Here…drink this.”

The warm milk has the desired effect, and she begins to calm down.

Awakened by Acxa’s thrashing and Ezor’s efforts to calm her down, one of the orphans closest to the pair begins to complain about the noise. Ezor, cranky herself from being awakened from a sound sleep, nevertheless sticks up for her best friend.

“Keep it up hotshot and I’ll give you something to really complain about. Now be quiet and go back to sleep.”

Ezor turns back to her friend, rubbing her back to calm her down. “You want to tell me about it?

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

Keith

Keith finds himself alone in a strange environment, being attacked by amoeba-like creatures. Nearby, a lake of what appears to be acid sits just below the escarpment on which he stands. Realizing the creatures are trying to kill him, he does the only thing he can think of – he dives headfirst into the acid.

Protected for the moment by his suit, Keith manages to work his way down what appears to be a tunnel.

Breaking through the barrier at the end of the tunnel, he finds himself dropping into an abyss. His fall is broken when he lands on a solid object covered in what appear to be vines.

Gathering his wits, he studies his landing perch carefully and realizes he is standing on the nose of what appears to be a fighter. Gazing into the cockpit, he sees movement and realizes someone is in there. Someone very much alive.

On the left shoulder of their uniform they bear an insignia he has never seen before.

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

Nine-year-old Keith Kogane sits up with a start. Sweating profusely, he looks around and realizes he is in the orphanage just outside Platte City.

That nightmare again. The one that keeps repeating itself. For four nights in a row now.

What does it all mean?

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

Acxa

After a night of peaceful sleep, mostly due to exhaustion, the dream comes back with a vengeance the following night.

This time there is a twist.

Stuck in her crashed fighter, she hears a thud coming from the front of her craft, as if someone…or something…just landed on the front it. Outside she hears and feels moment as whatever is on the nose of her fighter approaches the cockpit.

Looking up, she sees a stranger staring back at her. He is of a race she has never seen before. Wearing white armor with red and black trim, she can tell he is tall, and of a muscular build. Through the cockpit glass of her fighter and the face shield of his helmet, she gets a good look at his face

His eyes are a deep indigo, and his hair is black. A big lock of his hair hangs down in front of his face. This stranger is handsome, in a roguish sort of way.

He says something to her, but she is not able to make it out. Without warning, he shatters the cockpit glass and reaches a hand in to help her out. As she takes his hand, she awakens from her dream

This time she does not cry out. She does not hyperventilate. This time, she is remarkably calm

She settles down to sleep, and the dream never returns.

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

Ten Decaphoebs Later

Squeezing his way through the mucous plug at the end of the passageway, Keith finds himself in what he believes is the second stomach of the Weblum. Using his jetpack to break his fall, he notices a strange shape over to his right.

“No way!”

He jetpacks over and lands with a thud on the nose of what turns out to be a fighter. He cannot make out who it belongs to because of the stomach fibers covering it. Gazing inside the cockpit he spots the pilot…and realizes to his great surprise that they are still alive.

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

Acxa cannot believe her eyes. Standing on the nose cone of her fighter is a male of a race she has never seen before. She thinks about lifting the shield covering her face so that she can communicate with him but thinks better of it. Best to be safe and figure out who he is first. For the moment she will remain anonymous and silent.

Through the cockpit glass of her fighter she clearly hears a firm masculine voice calling out to her. “Don’t move. I’m here to help.”

From a device she has never seen before appears a Galra broadsword. She exhales in disappointment. If he thinks he is going to cut through diamond-hard cockpit glass with that…

With a mighty effort, the stranger slices open the cockpit glass as if it were paper. She sits there in shock at how effortlessly he destroyed the diamond-hard canopy. She snaps out of her daze when he silently extends a hand to help her out of the cockpit.

She has no idea who he is, but it is a hand she is more than willing to take.

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

Sometime later, after a brief misunderstanding that involved her running over him and taking her weapon back, Acxa and the stranger find themselves in the third stomach of the Weblum. Despite acknowledging that he is an enemy combatant fighting against the Galra, he nevertheless protected Acxa when they were attacked by stomach creatures. Realizing he is someone who shares her belief that all life is precious, she gladly returned the favor and protected him when the opportunity called for it.

Acxa now stands just in front of him and looks around. The third stomach was her objective, but she sees no evidence of the scaultrite she is there to collect.

While wondering what she is to do, they are joined by a third person. They are obviously a companion of her rescuer, but unlike her roguish companion the newcomer’s uniform is accented in yellow and black.

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

“Keith! Keith! You made it! We both made it!” Seeing the Galra pilot standing in front of them, Hunk turns to him with a quizzical look. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know. Someone I found. He doesn’t talk much. Also, he’s Galra.”

“What, do you guys all know each other?” Hunk whispers to Keith so as not to be overheard. “Do you really think we should be rescuing a Galra soldier right now?”

“We’re Paladins of Voltron. We can’t just leave people to die, even if they are Galra. Now come on. Let’s get what we came for and get out.”

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

Hearing the name of her mysterious rescuer, Acxa freezes in place as her eyes fly wide open. She flashes back to the nightmares she had in the orphanage ten years earlier.

That name. Those eyes. That hair!

She closes her eyes and thinks to herself, “It…it can’t be him.”

She slowly looks over her left shoulder, pretending to be looking about the stomach, but really turning to get a good look at her rescuer. A wry smile crosses her face as she continues the mental dialog with herself.

“So, you’re Keith. The Red Paladin of Voltron. Hmm…you’re cuter than the Galra Information Ministry makes you out to be. And it seems you are here for the same thing I am.”

Acxa faces forward and, pushing all other thoughts out of her mind, focuses on the mission at hand.

She needs to find some Scaultrite, or Lotor will not be happy.

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

Leaving the Weblum behind, Acxa makes for the rendezvous point where she is picked up by a Galra cruiser.

“Are you ok, General?”

“I’m fine. Get word to Prince Lotor that the mission was a success.”

“Vrepit Sa!”

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

The scaultrite loaded on board the Yellow Lion, Keith makes his way to the cockpit.

“So…where’s your buddy?”

Keith crosses his arms and looks down at the floor as he leans against the wall of the cockpit. “Long gone by now. He drew his pistol on me and stole a bag of scaultrite.”

Hunk decides it is time he clues his friend in on something that he is obviously missing.

“Keith, buddy, I hate to break it to you. But that Galra who was with us…is a she, not a he.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, I think I means that you’re blind if you can’t tell the difference between a man and a woman.”

Keith sighs and looks up at the ceiling of the cockpit in frustration. “That’s just…great. So, I’m blind and stupid.”

“No, not stupid. Blind maybe. I mean, have you ever been on a date with a woman? Maybe that’s why you can’t tell the diff…”

Keith gives Hunk what can best be described as a death glare.

“Ok, I’ll take that as a no. Moving on…”

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

Acxa looks out into space and sees a faint contrail moving away from the Weblum. She knows it is one of the Voltron Lions, carrying Keith back to his home base.

She sits there, wracked by a pang of guilt she never expected to feel. She built trust with him. They protected each other and had each other’s back. And in the end, she figurative stabbed him in the back, drawing her pistol on him and stealing a large bag of the scaultrite.

That act of betrayal now haunts her.

She speaks softly as she watches the Yellow Lion fade into the darkness of space. “I don’t know anything about you, Red Paladin of Voltron. I don’t expect you to understand why I betrayed you. I hope you know I never intended to pull the trigger. Not after the way you protected me. I owe you that much.”

“Someday…maybe…I’ll have a chance to explain my actions and tell you I’m sorry. For now, be safe Keith.”

“Until we meet again.”

END NOTE: This story is set within the AU of The Galra Chronicles. It builds on a brief scene in Chapter 3 of the Marmoran Generals in which Acxa relates to Zethrid the dream her ten-year-old self had about meeting Keith.

#kacxaweek2020 #vld kacxa #kacxa fic #keith x acxa #kacxa #acxa

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desiraypark · 4 years ago

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Much Needed Assistance (4)

“Scrambled Brain” Previous (“Tonight”) Entire Work Characters: You know at this point lol Content: N*FW; a little torture? (use of the Force to search someone’s mind); first “full” sexual experience (as in, first time giving/receiving oral and first time getting those guts rearranged); a tad bit of dirty talk; reader realizing that there might be a special kind of dip on that Supreme Leader tip *monocle emoji* Word Count: 3,029 Check out my Master List!

Per usual, you spent the remainder of the day by your supervisor’s side. But your lusty desire had turned into nervousness as the hours passed. You never had time for intimacy—or rather, you never made time. As a teenager, you sought work to help alleviate your family’s financial struggles. You did just about everything—waited tables; collected and sold junk; worked at an emporium. Next thing you knew, you were being seduced by the First Order’s promise of a better life for anyone who wanted to work for them. You became a member of their secretarial pool—and despite the destruction of damn near every base and ship they had the secretaries working on, the money was still just too good to pass up. Your family was your priority—your own future being the second. What did you want to do? You still had no clue. But too-tight shoes and a hand-me-down clothes weren’t going to be a part of it. As for romance? Nothing but a distraction, as far as you were concerned. Now, here you were about to give your body to the most dangerous man in the galaxy. You couldn’t quite answer your own question: “Why him?”. One minute you were a dedicated secretary for the First (and Final) Order, the next you were Kylo Ren’s personal assistant and private finger warmer. Had he performed one of those Jedi mind-tricks on you? Did the sudden proximity to a powerful man turn your brain into scrambled eggs? You didn’t have time to dwell on it. You had notes to take, appointments to make, and demands to follow. The Final Order had three meetings a day, and after the third—always held at seven—everyone was left to their own devices, unless there was an emergency or some major task that required overtime. Some of the leaders, like General Pryde and Captain Undilla, happily worked longer hours. The same went for Ren. He would spend the rest of his evening making plans for the next day, week, or year—depending on his mood—and he would lead himself in his own training and workout before bed. Tonight, was almost no different. With his helmet removed and face emotionless as ever, you served him a hot dinner from the mess hall and kept the ginger tea flowing as he looked over maps of the galaxy, deciding what planets he wanted to explore. Or invade. Then, you went over the minutes from the day’s meetings. When he went to the gym to train, you keyed the minutes into his datapad, as well as new appointments into his calendar. Then, you transferred the information to your own datapad. At about eleven, you drew his bath water and turned down his bed. You always had to make sure you ran his bath water at the right time, because for some gods-forsaken reason, he would only bathe in tepid water. As his bedtime came closer, you became antsier about the night, and hoped he’d forget the night’s “special plans”. You were sitting at the dining table jiggling your leg when he came in at about 11:15. His hair was drenched with sweat, his face and body red. You stood up and he walked straight to the bathroom. “Your bath is ready, sir. And all the information is in your datapad,” you said. He didn’t say anything—which wasn’t unusual. You grabbed your own datapad and your paper notepad, walked out the door, and prepared for bed with the lifting of your hair into a pineapple; a shower; the smoothing of lotion on your skin, and the slipping into your silk nightgown. You did a quick meditation and pulled your covers back. Just as you stepped into your bed, you heard the light beep of your entry keypad, and your doors opened. Ren’s silhouette filled your door frame. You swallowed and sat up in the bed.

“Yes, Sir?” “What are you doing?” he asked. “Um…going to bed, Sir…” “I’m certain I requested your presence in my quarters tonight…” “Yes, Sir.” He walked away from the door. Heart racing, you rose from your bed, left your room, and stepped out into the hallway. A Stormtrooper looked in your direction, but you quickly dropped your chin—watching the black marble floor beneath you until a threshold appeared. He stood by the door wearing only a robe and closed the blast doors behind you. Very lightly, he grabbed your chin and turned your face toward him. “You’re scared.” He wasn’t asking if you were. Your eyes fell to the floor and he chuckled. “All of the little scenarios you’ve played in that filthy mind of yours today, and now you’re scared of the real thing?” He tilted your chin some more, so that your eyes met his. “Why?” You swallowed. “I don’t know, Sir…” He stared at you for a few seconds, then suddenly, you felt a light twinge in your brain. You winced and took a baby step away from him. “Shh…” he whispered. “It’s okay…” He rubbed the back of your head, where flattened curls rose upward into a hair tie. “Hmm, I can see why you don’t know. Do you ever turn this brain of yours off?” he asked. You were too busy grimacing to answer him. “I understand…” he continued. “You’re scared of what people will say. Especially your parents. Hmm. I’ll teach you how to grow out of that…” “It hurts, Sir…” you whimpered. “I know. It’ll be over soon. I need to indulge my curiosity...” He rubbed your cheek. “And you’re scared of not pleasing me. So much conflict, sweet girl…” What sounded like genuine concern filled his last statement, and finally, he let your brain go. You tipped backward, but he grabbed you and set you straight. He looked over your face, then his darkened eyes moved downward. He fondled your left breast, then the right, and bit his lip. In your peripheral, you could see your own breasts moving up and down with each breath you took. He looked into your worried eyes. “I will teach you how to please me,” he said. He tugged at the straps of your nightgown and pulled them down. Then, he grabbed the material over your breasts, and pulled at it until the gown fell to your feet on its own accord. Your arms instinctively shot up and covered your breasts. He smirked, then tugged at your bikini underwear. “Pull these down,” he commanded. You reached for the elastic band and yanked at your underwear. “Slowly…” You slowly pulled your underwear down over your thighs; your knees; your calves, then your ankles. They nestled inside of your gown and you stepped out of your puddle of garments. You covered your breasts again, and he moved your hands out of the way. His eyes scanned all of you—your curly hair; your eyes; your lips—down to your breasts, your belly, and the fleshy mound over your thighs. “Walk to my room.” Once again, you swallowed your own saliva, and walked toward your supreme leader’s bedroom—fleshy and naked. You felt his eyes burning into you. You looked at the bedding you’d pulled back over an hour ago—untouched and welcoming. You turned around and watched him swagger into the bedroom with a stoic expression—his robe was in the main room, inches away from your nightgown. Your eyes made their way down to his underwear—and you saw the firm imprint fighting to claw its way out. You looked back up. “You look better than I imagined,” he said. You blushed and he walked to you, closer and closer until your bodies touched—but he didn’t stop. You stepped backward until you fell on his bed. Then, he laid his body down beside yours. The tips of his fingers dragged along your sternum, down your stomach, and over your mound—he rubbed his fingers over the low-cut hair that covered it. You felt your clit slowly pushing through your outer lips—aching for his touch. “Don’t be scared,” he repeated. His hand slithered back up your body and around your neck, but he didn’t squeeze. “I won’t hurt you.” Next, his hand slithered up your neck and to your chin. He rubbed his index finger over your plump bottom lip, and gently pulled it down. A menacing grin formed on his face. “I’m going to make such a little slut out of you.” A whimper fell from your lips and you gyrated against the air. Then, you surprised your own self, when you dropped your top lip over Ren’s finger. He bit his lip and pushed his finger all the way inside of your mouth—and you stroked it with your tongue. “Mmm…you’re learning already…” he looked down at you and noticed your hard nipples. He dipped downward and he flicked his tongue against your right nipple. You moaned over his finger, and he sucked at your breast—pulling in as much of it as he could. Then, he leaned over and repeated the action on your left breast. He moaned over your flesh. “How does the rest of you taste, Sweet Girl?” he asked. He pulled his finger from your mouth and dropped to his knees before you. When he pried your legs apart, you felt your stickiness separated itself—and cool air hit your glazed clit. With the same finger that was in your mouth, he rubbed your wet entrance and your clit, then he pushed his finger into your direction. You lifted onto your elbows and sucked your tangy juice off his finger.

Then, with his warm tongue, he ran a slow, long, wet stripe against your clit. You fell back onto the mattress with a sense of…relief. He licked around your clit as though he were licking an ice cream cone. The sounds of him licking, sucking, and lapping against your fleshy rose echoed throughout the room—causing you to grind against his lips. “Mmmmm…” he hummed into your pussy. “Mmmmm…” you accidentally echoed. He pulled his lips away, rubbed your thighs, and stared at his work. All four of his thick fingers rubbed against your folds, and you ground against them. “So wet for me. Am I really your first?” he asked, rubbing and rubbing—teasing is what it really was. You gyrated and whimpered. “Yes, Sir…” “Mmm…” he repeated. He licked circles around your clit but pulled away again. “Kylo. Kylo for tonight…” Your heart fluttered. “Say it.” His lips wrapped around your clit, and he inhaled like we wanted your pussy down his throat. “Mmm! Kylo…” “Say it again.” “Kylo…” you whimpered. His tongue traveled down to your slit, then back up to your clitoris, where he gave the bud one last suck—long, slow, and excruciating. Then, he rose to his feet and tugged on his underwear. From your comfortable position, you hid your excitement as you watched his long dick bounce up and down before settling in one place—pointing forward and dripping with precum. He pulled his underwear all the way down then sat down beside you, stroking his dick.

“Look,” he commanded, but with a softness in his voice. You sat up on your elbows and observed his firm dick as he stroked it. “Do you like what you see?” Desire warmed your body, slowly taking over the fear that once filled your blood. “I do…” You bit your lip and he groaned. “I like the way you bite that beautiful lip of yours…” he said with a heavy and breathy voice. You could tell that he really didn’t process the sentence before he let it out. One moment of humanity--of Kylo Ren being lost in his own pleasure. “Show me what else you can do with those lips.” Fear crept through your blood again. “Don’t be scared. I…will teach you…how to please me.” You sat up, licked your lips, and leaned into his lap. Right away, you realized that you probably wouldn’t be comfortable, so you did as he did, and got on the floor. A chill ran up your spine as your knees touched the cold marble, but you positioned yourself more comfortably, took his dick in your hand, the firm and tender muscle it was, and took the head into your mouth. You heard him shudder and felt the dip in the mattress as he rested his hands beside his hips. “Don’t be scared,” he repeated. And suddenly, he was pressing your head down. You gagged as the head of his dick hit your throat, then he grabbed your curly puff and pulled you off. “Now rub your spit all over it.” You did as you were told. Slowly, you rubbed your saliva over his dick—from the shaft to the head, and back down. You glanced up at him for his approval, and he only stared at you with a lustful—but somehow, still blank—expression. “Please me, Sweet Girl,” he said. You curled your lips over your teeth and sucked him slow—warm lips slid over his circumference, and you listened for more approval—a grunt, or a groan. “I know you can get dirtier than this,” he said with husk in his voice. “Don’t be gentle. I want your hands covered in saliva.” You didn’t know why, and you didn’t know how, but he pushed a button in you. You pulled your mouth away, took a deep breath, and pushed drool between your lips. Then, you let it fall onto the head of his dick and you stroked it over his member’s entirety—making it (and your hands) glossy. Finally, you releaxed yourself and went to work. You sucked and slobbered over his flesh as if it were your first meal in weeks—you thought about the things he did to your pussy: the flicks, and sucks, and vibrating “mmm’s”, and you mimicked him, as much as possible. Finally, you heard him moan and groan and rumble and grumble over you. He grabbed your hair once more, and gently motioned you over his head and shaft. He didn’t push you all the way down as he did earlier, but you took it upon yourself to give it a second try. You inhaled as much of him as you could, then pulled your lips away. You got a look at his balls and noticed they were looking dry. His musky scent floated through your nostrils as you licked and sucked on the sack, then, you made a warm, wet trail back up the shaft and to the tip. He took hold of your chin, making you look up at him with wide eyes. “Lay down.” You stood up and laid beside him—feet hanging over the side. But with one hand, he grabbed your legs, and rotated your body so that you were stretched vertically across his bed. He pressed his knee into the mattress and leaned between your legs. As he hovered over you, he planted kisses on your neck and your collarbone. And as he traveled back up your neck, you felt the painful intrusion through your center. You winced and inadvertently yanked your hips back, but he grabbed your thigh and held your leg up by the back of your knee. Kylo worked his inches into you slowly, lips never leaving your skin. You ached for him to kiss your lips, but he traveled everywhere but there. At a suspenseful pace, Kylo finally pushed all of himself into you. You gasped and your hands flew to his chest. He grabbed your other thigh, and just as he did with the first, held it up so that both of your legs were in his grasp. At a waltz’s pace, he stroked your soaked walls with his own soaked dick—the initial pain finally subsiding. Your hands slid down to his torso and you stared into his eyes. “That’s it…you nasty girl…” he mumbled unwittingly. He pulled his dick out and watched your juices come out with it, then he pushed all of himself back in—a lusty cry left your throat. “Is this what you think about when you go to sleep at night? My dick stretching your tight pussy open?” he asked. “Yes, Kylo…yes…” you moaned. Kylo grunted and closed your legs around his waist. Then, he leaned forward and plowed into you. You squealed and dug your fingers into his back as the sensation of a filled belly radiated throughout your entire body. Your slapping skins echoed throughout the quarters—harmonizing with your hitched screams and groans. “Fuccckkkk!” you shouted. Kylo pulled your head back to look down at you with a ravenous grin. He plowed into you--sack going slap! slap! slap! slap! against your skin. You suddenly realized how much your breasts were flopping all over the face. “There you go…” he growled. He traced the outline of your lips with his index finger. “A filthy mouth to match that filthy brain of yours. Do you want to cum on my dick?” “Yes, Kylo! Please!” He moved his hand away from your face, sat up, and rubbed your clit with the side of his thumb as his dick went in and out…in and out…in and out. Your heart started to race, as heat covered your body. As the nectar squelched from your you, images of you sitting on a throne—dressed in a red gown and dripping with jewels—flashed in your mind. Just as soon as the images came, they went—leaving you with a throbbing clit, but a scrambled brain. You came out of your daze just into time to notice Kylo’s dick over you, and ropes of his hot seed pouring over your breasts. He fell beside you, pulled your face to his, and devoured your mouth with his own. Almost like he’d put a spell on you, you closed your eyes, threw your arms around his neck, and gave his tongue a good fight with your own. The two of you pulled away from each other, both taking a moment to catch your breath. Then, you sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and walked out of his room and into the bathroom. You grabbed a clean washcloth and walked to the sink with it. As you wet the cloth, you stared at your reflection—cum over your tits, and your irises appearing darker than usual…

#muchneededassistance #my fanfic

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fifielady · 4 years ago

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Come To Sea, Come Home, Come Adventure

Day 4 of @usukweek || Free Day | Nautical AU

Note/s: This fic is also inspired and based on this song. ((My aunt’s karaoke is so loud and I’m a bit sorry that this is a bit rushed as well. I hope you enjoy it though!))

The far horizon was golden in the last minutes of the day's daylight. A distinct difference to the fierce red of the morning when Alfred went out to chop wood as soon as he woke up. He had been expecting a shower of rain the whole day but not even a drop fell from the sky; even though the clouds in the east were plentiful. Alfred stalled for a while, admiring the red of the sky reflected in the calm waters of the little port town he grew up in. A gust of wind blew, shaking the hilltop trees beside him and down and over to the sails of the ships docked by the bay of the port.

The town's lights were burning brilliantly against the dark backdrop of the star-kissed night sky. Cheers and peals of laughter were echoing away from the heart of the port and to where Alfred stood-- at the crown of the third hill of the island. The yearly festival of the town was pulsing with life.

The young man couldn't resist a carefree grin curving his lips. There were lots of ships resting from their adventures tonight. Big, beautiful ships from her numerous voyages with her roughed-up, handsome sailors. Not that the other people his age in their little port weren't pretty, Alfred just thinks they lack the... uh, appeal... to captivate him like how the people crossing the seas ever did. Was it their experience? Yes, that aspect probably played a part in his attraction to others. But it was mostly because he could travel along the seas with them if he ever ensnared a sailor.

So far, Alfred ensnared no one (Except for that one time with a local bard due to a small lapse of his judgment).

Fastening his grip on his full satchel, Alfred took a deep breath and turned around gave the last, possibly, good-bye to the cottage he called his home for the last nineteen years of his boring life. Bang! One of the windows suddenly opened, revealing his disgruntled older brother shaking his fist.

"It's been three years, Al! And you already have a match, for how long are you going to keep this up?!" Matthew yelled, his voice reverberated down on the hill and to Alfred.

Alfred formed a cone around his mouth with his hands. "Until I finally get on a ship and physically drag him back!"

Even with the distance, he saw his brother's disappointing frown. Matthew never understood him. No one in town ever did. Alfred whirled around, having enough of the daily reprimands his brother gives him every time he ventures down to the port. Don't get him wrong, he appreciates his brother's worry for him but Matthew will never understand his will to find that annoying best friend and lover of his. That guy was probably frolicking with some busty lady with rum and jewels surrounding him. Alfred clicked his tongue unconsciously, the mere thought of him made him both annoyed and more encouraged as ever.

"Oi, Al, don't forget to pick up some thyme when you've had enough of the sailors!" Matthew bellowed for the last time before Alfred sprinted down the path of the hill. Gah! Alfred's had enough of his life in town and he'd die from crushing herbs and selling medicine for the rest of his life. An exaggeration. He hopes no one would toss him off the deck since he was an expert in herbal medicine.

At least that would never happen if he fails to find a ship tonight. And he'd never considered stowing away, so that's off the list. Alfred knows too much what happens to a stowaway. A shiver ran up his spine as he continued to run with the salty wind. With all dangers of sea travel in his mind, he prayed again that night that he'd never meet a scoundrel. Or worse-- a pirate.

But the chances of meeting one are slim in a nameless island port town in the outskirts of a kingdom.

The music of the flutes and guitars was loud and lively, people in the town plaza were dancing and whooping with laughter and joy. Lights from the hanging lanterns glowed like honey under the night sky and warmed the merry townsfolk and sailors. Alfred struggled to pave a way through the dancing people and to the tavern at the end of the plaza. He mussed up his wheat hair, desperately trying not to be noticed by the celebrators lest they drag him into dancing with them. Or call for Natalia.

Alfred scanned left and right, still in the crowd being pushed everywhere by the others and the melodies. He saw no sign of a mop of blonde hair lighter than his. He couldn't help relief from heaving a sigh out of his lips. And for a while, space loosened amidst the crowd and Alfred wriggled his way out of the bunch and into the open doors of the tavern.

The cheers and the chattering in the tavern were less noisy than the festivities outside, though still as rowdy. Most of the ones inside were drunken sailors and sailors who were failing in seducing the barmaids. Alfred proceeded to the counter and sat on the last stool on the end, straining his ears to hear the dialogue of the men behind him.

A glass of grape rum propped up in front of him. "You really should stop this past-time of yours, Al," the barkeep chided him, though she said that with a wry grin on her face, "But if you make them stay a bit longer and make their pockets loose and generous, who am I to stop you?"

He only shook his head and picked up his glass. Alfred studied the drinking, the drunks, and the miraculously sober in the tavern. Tables were full of sailors, their drinks, and pie. He sipped the given drink slowly and asked the barkeep, "Are there any captains getting shit-faced, around? With the drinks you're serving tonight, it's so much easier to try and convince them."

"Natalia would have your head if you tried to bed one of them again."

Alfred chuckled, "Not if she wants to go through the trouble of getting an 'adequate' husband again." Head resting on the palm of his hand, he continued, "The only other herbalist in town is my brother and he's gonna marry her cousin this summer. It'll at least take her another few years to find someone like me, you know!"

The barkeep scoffed playfully at his words, "Nobody is as brash as you around here, Alfred Jones. But..." She had a smug look as she took out a pie from one of the ovens. Alfred raised a brow and gestured with his free hand to prompt her as he chugged down the rest of the drink. "There was some guy who almost mauled his 'first mate' because of a snide comment a few moments before you walked in."

He almost spat out the rum in his mouth, but his eyes went comically wide. 'His first mate'?! There was a ship captain out and about instead of inspecting their ships! Alfred gulped down the drink, it burned his throat and made his blood warm. "Is he still here?!"

She only smiled in response, her green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Alfred, be a dear and deliver this pie to that table near the sea-facing window."

Alfred gave her a look but he still took the tray with the dessert. "You're as pretty as you are guileful, Liz." She turned to prepare another batch of drinks, her long brown hair almost slapping Alfred across his face.

"Why, thank you."

He huffed. So the drink wasn't free, then. Even when he entertains her customers and made them stay until morning. Alfred sauntered to the aforementioned table and placed the tray gently (You can't just put a pie down haphazardly, that's asking for a fight!). He looked up to see a raven-haired man, brunnet, an anxious blond man. The blond guy had a swollen cheek on his exasperated face.

"Uhh, you're the ones who ordered this pie, right?"

The three men stayed silent. They had such gloomy expressions it made Alfred feel bad doing his nightly conquests. But his self-righteous quest like searching for his lover was a great deal heavier than consoling three men who ordered a pie. Alfred should probably not try anything on these three; they really looked like they killed a person's hopes and dreams and lived to bear it. Just as he was about to excuse himself from such a depressed trio, the blond guy suddenly slammed his fist on the table.

"H-hey, are you--"

The guy's swollen face whirled around and came close to his; Alfred took a step back. "I'm tired of it! I'm tired of him being such a young master! Ah, I want him to drown in his rum and! And...!" The strange man bawled and caressed the edges of the pie, "Even so...for a captain, he's so pitiful...! You agree, right?"

"What are--"

"Here!" The injured blond shoved the pie to him, "You bring it to the captain in the barn. I can't handle him right now!" Then he continued sobbing on the table, softly punching it with his fist. Alfred could only gape at the other two men that refused to look at him and instead stared outside the window with deadpan expressions.

Just what did he get into?

Alfred sighed and went out with a freshly-baked pie in his hands to the little barn on the other side of the tavern. The festivities in the plaza were still going on but the tavern's barn was always empty and dark. And cold. But if Alfred were to personally deliver this to the injured man's captain, he could hitch a ride to the next step of finding his lover. Maybe. If the captain wasn't a blacked-out drunk already and making the cow and chickens his roommates. Ah, the animals were transferred to a new barn so maybe not.

Clink! Clonk! The rhythmic sound of metal against the stoned pathways of the town plaza resounded loudly even with the loud voices in the festival in the center. Oh, no. NO! Alfred felt the warmth of the rum leave his body and early winter settled in his bone. The sound of armored boots stepping on the stone can only mean one and only one thing-- Natalia is here!

To say Alfred wasn't scared shitless of his fiancee was a big, fat lie. She was so stubborn in making him her husband because he was the only herbalist who wasn't married yet. Alfred was equally as stubborn as to chase after someone who hasn't even stepped on their home island for three years. So, of course, it was a problem for both of them!

He hurried his steps to the barn, taking extra precaution with the pie, and locked the doors shut as soon as he entered it. Cold sweat ran down from his neck and down his spine. If Natalia caught him flirting in Elizabeta's tavern again, she'd torture him rather than killing him to end his misery.

The clanging metal slowly went away. Alfred slumped his body against the wooden doors, sliding down and sitting on the hay-infested floor of the barn. He sighed, the beating of his heart was loud in his ears. Alfred stared into the semi-darkness inside the barn. Slivers of light went through the spaces between the wooden walls. The outside noise was muted and far away.

Yeah, he can still do this. If his lover with his smaller frame craved for adventure, then Alfred could do the same. All in the name of love...

Alfred stared at the pie in his hands. Minced pie, it was a favorite of--

"Nggh..." Someone groaned in the darkness. Right. Alfred still had to give the pie to the trio's captain.

He stood up and walked over to the direction of the sound. The young man was blindly reaching out in the darkness using his other hand. He spotted a hunched figure, a large but faint stripe of yellow light on the man. He finally got close and shook the man's shoulder. The man groaned, still face-first as he lay on the pile on hay. Oof, that's gonna itch in the morning. Alfred shook the captain more roughly this time. He heard a faint 'Wasssit' from the man but the guy still hadn't moved an inch. Alfred resisted pulling on the captain's tied back messy, yellow hair. "Hey, man, you gotta get up if you want to eat."

"... Wha.. ha?" The captain finally, at a slow pace, lifted his face to face the annoyed expression on Alfred. Bleary emeralds so familiar ogled him, with drool on the edge on the man's mouth. That... that face! Alfred stared in shock as the brows of the man drew together. Those eyebrows! He'd never forget someone with eyebrows like that! And the only one who had eyebrows like that was his lover with the name of--

"Arthur?!"

Arthur sobered up instantly, recognition and awe and shock all over his half-drunk face. "What in the-- Alfred! What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that! What're you doing here of all places?" Alfred shook his head, his grip tightened on the pie, "Nevermind that, why didn't you come to see me first?!" Questions, he had so many questions. Was this why Liz had that smile on her when he came in? Because this guy was back?! Alfred was so going to kill him.

"Wait--Wait! Let me-- let me explain!"

"You better explain! What were you thinking, leaving this island without me and coming back some three years later?"

Alfred's heart was beating with happiness and curiosity and a faint trace of hurt in the back of his heart. Arthur was here! After three years-- Wait, he shouldn't get ahead of himself. His lover left him for three years! Three! Were they still even lovers? Alfred placed the pie on the ground and latched his hands on the shoulders of the other man. Arthur had a dumb look on his face, the same one he had when every time he woke up from a nap years ago. Alfred felt his chest tighten from just this...

"Arthur. You are going to tell me everything."

And his found lover did. In his drunk and sleep-addled voice that Alfred missed. In the semi-darkness of the barn, the old lovers spoke and ate mince pie throughout the night. The celebration and its noise outside never stopped them from exchanging words of love and embraces full of affection.

"I thought you said you'd never come back." Alfred and Arthur were on their sides facing each other on the pile of hay. It was a bit itchy but Alfred found it comfortable with Arthur in his arms.

"Well, I'm here now." Arthur looked at him in the eyes, the truth in his new never disappearing for even a moment. "But I'm not coming back ever again."

"...Even for me?" His grip around his lover's waist tensing, "Arthur, why did you come back to this backwater island?"

Arthur's green eyes softened, misting in the edges. "I came back for you. You were always in my mind and every time I think of you and your smile, it makes my heartache. You were so far away. But not any more so..." he took Alfred's hands in his, " So come with me, Alfred. Let's look for adventure. Together."

The only thing in Alfred's mind was how he loved Arthur so much and the warmth of Arthur's hand on his. He'd never let that hand go again.

"Together?"

"Yes."

Alfred already had his satchel ready for the last three years.

Extra:

"This ship looks like she's been through too many fights... too many scars on the floorboard."

"Er, yes..."

"Wait a minute, why does this ship have the kingdom's insignia all scratched up? Merchant ships have to have clear insignias!"

"Well, uh--"

"Arthur, is there something you're not telling me?"

"..."

"This is a pirate ship, isn't it? Really, Art?"

#usukweek #APH America #APH England #hws america #hws england #aph #hws #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #alfred f jones #Arthur Kirkland #usuk #ukus #nautical au #pirates #hetalia usuk

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msfangirlgonewild · 5 years ago

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Prescence (post-TROS fanfiction/Post Canon)

Before I’m posting on Archives, this is my first DamereyDaily2020 during pandemic week, and this is the second after Healing or ‘possibly the third’ series of ‘It's Like Poetry, Sort Of. They Rhymes.’

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Rey Skywalker

Word count: 4,650

Prompt: ’Two hearts and one home.’ Plus a bonus from late March ‘If You Lived to Be A Hundred’

Summary: Three months later...Poe had faith that his dauntless ally, his best friend, his ray of sunshine, his beloved Jedi...had returned for him.

Once the Death Star’s latest target and the site of the Rebel base during the final battle. Yavin 4 was a vast and most affluent planet of the Outer Rim Territories, and its large and sprawling tropical jungles teemed with an abundance of exotic beauty.

Following a long hyperspeed, T-70 X-wing Black One had reached Yavin 4. Similar to Ajan Kloss, this tropical moon planet was where Poe Dameron was born. He was glad, relieved to have finally returned from Coruscant and the third meeting of the Galactic Senate’s restoration.

Poe thought about the peace that had ensued after the war, and the friends that he had made along the way. He missed them so much out there, but it was time to come home, take a breath, and rejoin his father. Nonetheless, he was reflected on Finn and the journey with his fellow former stormtrooper Jannah, along with Rose Tico, Chewbacca and Lando Carlissian in search of their families. Larma D’Acy was now in the Senate’s seat while Beaumont Kim as her aide. Caluan Ematt had retired and returned to his home planet with his family. Kaydel Ko Connix had been promoted to Major and continued to serve in the military. And Jessika Pava, the fearless sole member of the Black Squadron was taking over Poe’s command.

He had visited some time with Maz Kanata at her restored castle at Takodana where she had her new cantina, and with Zorii Bliss and Babu Frik who were still running spices like in the days when Poe had worked them long ago. Zorii would keep in touch with him until if she needed hand otherwise.

The giant red planet was covered in clouds as Black One dropped from the atmosphere and flew over the grassy fields to landed perfectly just as near from his father’s homestead.

He pulled off his flight helmet and climbed down from the cockpit. As General Dameron’s temporary side droid while Beebee-Ate was away with Rey, Artoo-Detoo popped up from the astromech socket behind the cockpit, and maneuvered himself with his two small rockets to land slowly onto the ground. Finally, the droid and his maker-pilot were strolling toward the stable next to the farmhouse.

They walked past his mother’s A-wing interceptor, parked next to an old X-wing model, and Poe was suddenly curious. He looked towards the craft as Artoo was suddenly became excited with blipping and whistles.

Poe turned to the diminutive droid, as he arched his brow. “What?” he asked unexpectedly. “What do you mean—“

“Is that you, son?” His father shouted from the nearby stable while fixing his tractor. “And I could hear Artoo’s droidspeak.”

He nodded to himself. “Yeah, Dad,” he said, still focusing on the ship as Artoo rolled closer. “I’m home!”

“How’s my old mates at Coruscant?”

“Er...they all missed you,” he looked closer at the craft: one had the red stripe on two of its wings and on the body. It was sleek, like the T-70 X-wing or his original Black One that had been destroyed inside the Raddus’ hangar.

Poe abruptly realized that this was the T-65B starfighter, the one that Uncle Luke had piloted to destroy the first Death Star at Yavin 4, and then thirty three years later the same craft that had flown to Exegol with the guide of a Sith Wayfinder, with Poe along with Finn and the rest of the Resistance following its track.

Red Five––here? Poe thought. No kriffing way!

“They’re coming to visit you the next seasons,” added Poe, sighed in relief. “And they’ll bring some of that Corellian cognac that you wanted!”

“Sounds good, Poe!” Kes Dameron answered enthusiastically.

That’s Master Jedi-Luke’s X-wing and I recognize this ship, Maker-Poe, the droid beeped to Poe. And I think there is someone here?

“Who?” asked Poe.

“Oh, there’s a visitor for you, kid,” Kes added. “And she’s with our Beebee.”

“Really?” His heart leaped to find out Rey was already there.

“Of course, you Space Porg! Did you see that old X-wing she’s flying?” Kes chucked as Poe got annoyed at his ridiculous teasing. “She’s at our old place. Do invite with your Jedi friend for a dinner tonight.”

“Ah…no problem, Dad. And I’ll tell her!” Poe wore a satisfied grin as he turned to giddy Artoo. ”Will you take it easy, bud?”

Sorry, sir. Artoo beeped. Never can help it.

He shook himself as he walked and the droid followed. “You know what, you’re a lot more cheekier like Beebee-Ate.” he observed. “And a bit naive.”

Why thank you very much, Master-Poe. You have to add that I’m a stubborn little droid as well. Jedi Master-Luke calls me that, by the way.

“Ah, I almost forgot that.” he chuckled lightly as they move along the path through the woods where his new home was, where his family was, and where the Uneti tree was located. “Does Uncle Luke cross your mind?”

Yes, Master-Poe. We had a lot of adventures when I was with him from time to time. But I can’t say much about what happened after he had gone.

“I know, Artoo,” he sighed sadly.

Until a sound of jubilant beeps and chirps approached as a spherical looking droid followed by a tiny cone shaped, rolled towards Poe.

“Beebee-Ate! Welcome back!” Poe exclaimed, dropping to his knees. He rubbed the droid’s body back as Beebee’s dome head jiggled excitedly like a child has returned from a long trip. “I really missed you, Buddy?”

Same to you, Master-Poe! Beebee beeps and chirps happily. It’s good to be home! What’s up, Artoo and you’ve been spending time with him!

Incredibly much, Beebee-Ate. Artoo replied. Master-Poe is happy you’ve come back.

“And how d’you enjoy crossing the galaxy with your Jedi Mistress-Rey?” he asked with a smile at Beebee. “Have you stuck with her?”

Yes, sir. She’s been keeping my antenna straight in case I get into trouble. We’ve traveled around to all the places, especially Tatooine.

“You mean Luke’s old homestead?”

Yes, sir.

Dio rolled closer to Poe. “Welcome back, Master-Poe.” he said calmly. He had been living there permanently as Poe’s second familiar. “How was the Senate meeting at Coruscant?”

Poe groaned as he nuzzled the droid’s cone head like a house pet. “Lot’s of reconstruction and other headaches, Little Buddy.” he smiled lightly. “Thanks for asking.”

He brought himself back to his feet as he was looked in the direction where he was going. “Is she there?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” Dio replied.

Jedi Mistress-Rey has been at the tree in about an hour, Master-Poe. Beebee beeped in reply.

“What’s she doing?” asked Poe, looking at Beebee.

Meditating. Beebee double-beeped.

Poe looked over in the direction of the tree. He took a deep breath, glad of see Rey again. They had shared intimately at the forest of Ajan Kloss during an evening celebration. And it felt rewarding to him, as it was so very uncommon.

“Why don’t you guys go with Artoo and charge yourselves alright?” he said at the two. “I just need to speak alone with her.”

Beebee and Dio responded in the affirmative as they joining with Artoo and proceeded to the charging area. Poe resumes up the path, which finally opened into a clearing where he could almost feel her presence.

The ancient Force-sensitive Uneti tree stood there near the lake and his family’s old home, remodeled now as his own. Like The Great Tree at Coruscant, colorful fan-shaped leaves of gold and brown were attached to the coiled branches and stems of the large, twisted trunk.

Then Poe saw the enchanted tree, and near it a beautiful floating figure sat crossed-legged in the air with small boulders and rocks hovering slowly around her as the Force flowed through her. Her eyes were closed peacefully as she concentrated in a meditative trance that flowed between her and the tree.

Poe was silently impressed; he sat down on the grass, placing his flight helmet beside him. Then he stripped off his flight vest and placed it on top of the helmet as he watched the floating and reposed Rey. She had more beautiful since their first encounter on Crait where she had used her power to lift rocks. Looking at her now, Poe thought her once again of how she resembled an ancient Yavinesque goddess with her celestial objects surrounding her.

He’d never fallen in love with any woman in the galaxy before he found her. He had wanted her from the beginning when they first met at the Falcon, and now he loved having her in his life. Time was specifically a good thing when it came to General Dameron, who was gladly reunited with the lone scavenger from Jakku, now a fiercely independent Jedi after the tides of galactic war.

And it was something that he had faith in the ideal of his dauntless ally, his space goddess, his ray of sunshine, his beguiling sweetheart, and his beloved Jedi. She had returned for him.

Then a minute later, Rey had finally completed her meditation. She lowered herself neatly on the ground as the rocks fell around her.

Poe stood up and walked to her. “Hey, Sunshine,” he said to her.

Rey was aware of the familiar voice as she slowly opened her eyes and blinked. “Hey, Flyboy,” she replied breathlessly with a bright smile.

Poe took a quick step forward as Rey approached him and then wrapped her arms around him. At once all his aching memories of three unbearable months had finally lifted, and his eyes closed in bliss that as was back in his beloved Jedi’s arms. He tightened his hold around her waist and leaned against her chest as he inhaled the scent of her.

"I missed you,” she sighed softly.

“Same to you,” he murmured, his face buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder. “I’m surprised that you’re here.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I came to see you, Poe,” she sniffed. “It’s been a long time since I was away.”

“I was worried while you were still out there.”

“More than your Force-sensitivity of tracking me?”

“Indubitably.” Poe lifted his head, raising his brows in a cocky manner and looked at her teary eyes. “I don’t want to spoil it too much, and it takes time,” he said meticulously, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“To be sure,” assured Rey.

He chuckled as his eyes mirroring hers while he stood in silence. It had been months since he and Rey had parted after leaving Ajan Kloss. There had been a lot of opportunities in their separate ways during the restoration of the New Republic, and some perks.

And he could see the truth in her eyes. Rey had missed him all these months since their fight against the Final Order, Emperor Palpatine, and his Sith Eternal, and she had come back to see him once again.

After disowning herself her Palpatine bloodline and adopting the Skywalker’s surname, Rey had made plans for the restoration and reorganization of the New Jedi Order––or maybe a search for the kybel crystal to build her own lightsaber from the parts of her staff.

She had returned to see Poe after her final trip to Tatooine. And either way, Poe was happy that Rey had come.

He began to move closer again until Rey spoke. “I hope you’re surprised I’m here with Beebee-Ate,” she noted. “He missed you.”

“Did he?”

She nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s my buddy,” he shrugged his shoulders with a sardonic grin as they gently pulled away. “And you’ve been flying Uncle Luke’s Red Five. What happened to your Falcon?”

“Lando asked me to borrow it for a while with Chewie,” she answered. “He told me the whole story about how his ship before he was beaten by Han in a card game.”

“That’s him, alright. He’ll never change a bit,” he sighed with a scoff, scratching the back of his head. “Are you going to stay for a while?”

“If you want me to,” she assured playfully, “then, I’m staying.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like,” he said with a smirk. “Also, my Dad made some dinner for us tonight.”

“That’s sound’s wonderful,” she said in an optimistically.

Poe led her on a simple tour of the Force-sensitive tree. Despite growing up in the desert, Rey had already visited so many greens planets in the galaxy like Takodana and Ajan Kloss. But she was amazed at the exotic fields of Yavin 4 with its fresh breezes blowing through the Massassi trees, the scented fresh fruits of Koyo trees that Kes had planted, the bioluminescence of fresh flowers and lush green grasses, and the gleams of the late afternoon sun on the crystal-clear lake that shone with a lustrous and rare beauty.

As they strolled around under the tree in conversation, Rey noticed the renovated house nearby. “I can see the new home that you’ve to built over there. Is that the house where your parents lived?”

“Yup, I’m still restoring it,” he answered, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his fight uniform.

“Perhaps you need a hand. I’ve fixed a lot of stuff besides ships,” Rey glanced at him. “How about it, General Dameron?”

“Why not, Jedi Mistress Skywalker.” he was amused at the tone of her new surname. “A carpenter would be nicer to have around than a scavenger, a mechanic, or even a Jedi. But you only have a new lightsaber rather than a laser saw. Or maybe the Force would do–”

Instinctively, Rey quickly slapped his arm while Poe laughed with a cocky humor as they strolled. She ignored him as she is looked up to watch the gentle breeze moves through the branches of the Force-sensitive Uneti tree.

“Your father showed me this tree, and I can’t believe it’s so beautiful and mythical,” she said. “But it much seems so huge and different, unlike the one at Ahch-To.”

“It’s pretty awesome, huh? And it’s matured and more than I expected.” He walked to the trunk, but did not get close. “My mom helped Uncle Luke to cut two clippings a long time ago. So he gave her one as a thank you present.”

“So Luke has the other one at Ahch-To,” Poe continued. “and you’ve said there was a library underneath the trunk of the tree where the sacred Jedi texts kept.”

“That’s right, Poe.” she answered. “I returned the day on exile as when I saw the tree, it was burned down.”

Later, she stopped as Poe kept strolling. “Have you ever touched the tree?”

“Huh?” he blinked as he halted and turned back toward her.

“Did you?” she asked curiously.

“When I was thirteen, I was supposed to be close to the tree, but I’m afraid that was because I was being sensitive about staying away.” Then he swiftly glanced at her. “Later, I did at this point that I sat under the tree, and when I did, I felt the inside of me for the first time while I was napping.”

“Was it scary?” she asked.

Poe moved shyly away from her. “Nope, it’s childish. But sentimental.”

“Can you tell me, Poe?” Rey giggled, teasing him. “Come on.”

He turned back toward her again and looked down at the necklace that held his mother’s wedding ring around Rey’s neck. His expression was earnest as he moved towards her, and his fingers fiddling with the ring.

He took a patient breath and began. “I can only I remember what I felt about my mother and me. She was very close to me when I was a little boy. She would take me outside at night when my father was fast asleep. We went to the lake near the growing Force tree, we’d lie down on the grass and stared at the night sky.” Poe released the ring from his hand as he looked up at the afternoon sky. “Once, she pointed to the brightest star –– Caeli, the Bird Star of the galaxy. And it was a good sign; my mother promised me that I’d become the best pilot when I grew up, just like her.”

Poe missed his mom so much when he was with her. She had taught him advising and caring across the galaxy and over until he found himself in a place where the eyes of Shara Bey could not reach him.

“That was very touching, Poe,” she observed. “You missed your mom a lot?”

He sighed as he looked down at the surface roots between his feet, and he felt something like life, a presence, like the air through him. He cocked his head at her. “What about you, Sunshine?”

“What?” she puzzled.

“Have you touched or meditated through the tree?” he asked simply.

She took her breath with ease. “I felt it,” she replied with a simple nod.

“Was it scary or something?”

She shuddered slightly as Poe moved at her. “Hey, it’s alright I’m here with you.” he reassured her.

“It’s like a magnet pulling me, Poe,” she answered, and her eyes rose and met his. “It’s not scary. It replenishes me inside––the Force––through the way of the world, through my parents, Han, Luke and Leia, and Ben. I had cherished them as my faithfully as long as I wished for them. They’re in peace now, and I shall never regret it. The bond between Ben and me has been reconciled and purpose. I was very fond of him and remember him as a friend rather than an adversary. I embraced him with gratitude when he brought me back to life after I was defeated Palpatine and the Sith.”

Poe moved closer to her, brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed her knuckle. “Finn and I thought that you were gone there at Exegol.” he murmured with his breath hitched. “I…I’m––“

“I know, Poe,” she answered softly in a brittle tone. “But I live.”

He watched her in silence for a while, and before he could kiss Rey began to talk about something else.

“I was there in Coruscant,” she said. “At the service.”

He understood. He hadn’t seen her at the Monument Plaza during the service. “Finn told me that you’d left early,” he said.

“I wish I could’ve stayed for a while, but I had something to settle.” she nodded slowly. “That was a good speech, Poe. It was very...”

“Solacing,” he admits, cutting off Rey’s sentence.

Rey clasped both hands. “I’m sorry.”

He heaved a sigh and swallowed, looking more comforted than grieving. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to affect myself of having an ordeal like this. I miss everyone, especially Snap and Aunt Leia.”

She bowed her head sadly. “I understand.”

“Leia was your master after Uncle Luke, Rey,” he said.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Master Leia taught me everything while I was at Ajan Kloss. She watched me what I’m doing, and it was with a patience between peace and calm. She told me about all the moments she treasure with Luke as he taught her every day. I miss her, and especially Master Luke, Poe.”

Rey recollected the motherly relationship with the master who trained her apprentice to refocus and free her mind from fear through the Force. She understood entirely that patience was the key of the Force.

Poe walked and stood beside her as he gazed at the fields. “Before we left on a mission in search of the Wayfinder, Leia said she was passing her torch to me to bring the Final Order down. And while I was at Exegol that I nearly failed or retreated, until the spark which had become a fire finally arrived with Lando and the entire fleet from the whole galaxy. They had done it, and Leia was right about what she’d said about new hope. I believe in her, Rey.”

Then a single tear fell from his eye, and he wiped it away. “Anyway, that was then before the war was over and it was time to move on. But i’m here now with my dad to start a new life, right from the start.”

He took a breath like he’s relaxed from bereavement as he runs his hand through his hair. “So, um…how’s Tatooine?” he asked. “Beebee-Ate told me.”

“Hot during the day, and cold at night,” she said, walking over and staring out at the lake as she felt the gentle wind behind her. “It looks fairly different than Jakku. And it’s not to be lightly traveled, that desert planet.”

“Did you find what you’ve looking for at Uncle Luke’s place?” he asked, watching the most beautiful Jedi he had ever seen standing on the very edge of the lake.

After exploring across the galaxy, and revisiting Ahch-To, her final stop had been the Lars homestead in the Great Chott flat on Tatooine. The moisture farm had remained abandoned, it was there where she buried Anakin and Leia's lightsabers. She stayed there for a while in peace and tranquility, staring at the striking blue and gold sunrise of the twin suns.

“Nothing special,” answered Rey after took a long breath. She picked up a small stone and threw and skipped it across the water. “But, there’s one who came and visited me before I left.”

“Luke?”

“No, it was Leia,” she said, turning her back to him. “She told me everything about Ben, about the pain he’d suffered, that there was still good inside of him, and she could feel it before she died.”

After a moment, Poe sighed as Rey went on. “Leia told me about you, Poe. Not so feisty as you’d think since when you were with her.”

“Oh, please,” he said like he’s was fooling around. “What was our second mom saying?”

“She wanted to know how you felt to be without guidance. Your instinct as a leader was genuinely unsurpassable, and it was such a difficult situation with what you did out there. She was pleased with you, Poe.”

Poe missed having Aunt Leia by his side during the war after Shara’s passing. He was just amazed by the miracles in the galaxy.

“When if she comes as a ghost to see you,” said Poe with a light smile. “tell her to say thank you, will you?”

“There’s more,” she said, this time sincerely. “Leia told me that I was her last wish for you—it’s because I’m your gift, Poe. I hadn’t noticed this before we met––”

Poe moved closer to her and felt the way her body relaxed against his. He placed his finger gently on her lips to silence her. “Enough, sweetheart. You’ve talked too much, and I know the exact words that she said to me.”

“Oh, there is something else,” she added with a sigh, leaning her forehead to his, and held her hands on his chest, clutching her fingers against the fabric of Poe’s flight uniform. “While I was still meditating with the tree, and I felt a presence that was unforgettable.”

They stood looking at each other in serenity and longing as the sunlight gleamed on the surface of the Yavinesque lake around them.

“It’s about us, Poe.” she whispered as her breath hitches. She closed her eyes like she was praying.

His heartbeat skipped a beat, and his eyes blinked as though he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Tell me,” he murmured, as his eyes closed with hers.

“I remember at Crait when you were bewildering me while I used the Force to lift rocks and help you, Finn, and the rest of the Resistance to escape. Then we met at the Falcon, and as we shared about our pain by Ben and then Snoke, we were truly connected. Then we bickered with each other like feral Loth-cats about the Falcon being on fire because of your habit on lightspeed skipping,” Poe snorted at that as Rey lightly chuckled before continuing. “We fought alongside with Finn against the First Order from time to time. And while on a mission, you protected me that I fought my Palpatine bloodline against turning to the Dark Lord’s throne and falling to the Dark Side. And when I was ready for heading to Exegol to face my grandfather, were still arguing that I didn’t need you to safeguard or watch over me anymore. But you still protected me because you were deeply in love from the beginning without telling me.”

And Poe moved to hold her gently, then ran his hands smoothly along her arms and between her neck and her face. His head moved up as his lips brushed softly against her forehead. Rey flutters her eyes blissfully as she let her saying the words to flow. He whispered with kisses, from one of her eyelids to her cheek, and then that close to her mouth. Rey sighed with bliss and felt the feathery touch of his breath against her skin.

She went on: “Then the other day during the victory celebration, the night we shared each other in the deep of the forest when we made love...as the Force enlivened inside of our deepest emotions we shared, and preserved this moment forever. And when we left Ajan Kloss at dawn in our separate ways, I felt that my presence was inside still in your heart and soul, and that you would be waiting for me when I returned from across the galaxy. And now…” she paused for a second with her eyes opened, and Poe instantly stopped kissing her while his eyes stared lovingly at hers. “Poe?”

“What?” he asked, his expression beguiling.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, begging him to continue in his dawdling manner.

“Why did you stop,” he asked. “I wouldn’t know until you allow me to say so.”

Her breath hitched, then she choked up like she was almost crying, and they were both quiet for a moment until her face rested on his shoulder and Poe moved his hand to gently fondle her head.

“I came for you, Poe,” she declared softly at last with her eyes closed. “And I’m here…right here.”

He smiled peacefully, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “Well, you’re here right now, my Lady Jedi,” he replies. “And I love you.”

With hindsight, she took his hand from her head and placed it gently on her abdomen.

Poe‘s eyes were stunned and surprised, and his mouth parted in wonder. Rey cocked her head to face him and smiled at him.

“No way,” he stammered, furrowing his brows. “Rey, you’re––”

“Does it surprise you, General?”

As their heartbeats touched each other’s chest, Poe’s permission was written into the desperation of with which his mouth met hers, something like a sense of contentment that he shared with her. He wanted more than anything is to be with her eternally.

Two hearts and one home. Poe discerned in thought.

“So you’re staying with me, Rey,” Poe said as his eyes gleamed and smirked. “And if you live to be a hundred?”

Rey laughed joyfully. Tears flowed down on her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away with his thumb. “I hope to live to be a hundred minus a day.” she sniffed in jest.

He chuckled thoughtfully with one brow widened. He nodded and caressed Rey’s face as she looked at him. “So that I never have to live a day without you.”

She leaned her forehead against his. The Force inspirited their emotions because of love, and the heart of the galaxy was forever changed.

“I love you, Space Porg.” she murmured.

Instead of calling her ‘Desert Rat,’ he decided to call her from now on.

“I know, Buttercup,” he answers softly, pulling her gently and returning his lips to hers. “I know.”

#damereydaily2020 #damerey #poe x rey #poe dameron #rey skywalker #damerey fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars nothing but star wars #13. if you live to be a hundred #21. two hearts and one home #may the queue be with you #may the force be with you #post canon

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anniesarthistoryblog · 4 years ago

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A Review of three works from the ‘Shape and Form’ Exhibition at @heartofthetribe Gallery, Glastonbury

As our final assignment for our Art History module for @strodefad we were required to write an essay discussing eithere an art history movement or a recent exhibition visited. Always up for a challenge i chose to write about the brief opportunity I got to see an art gallery between lockdowns in the new gallery that i am fortunate to have just a few minutes walk from my home here in Glastonbury.

What made it a really special experience was that i managed to contact two of the three artist I chose to include in the essay and they very generously answered my questions about their exhibit pieces to give me some context and process insights as first-hand accounts and it was wonderful to be able to ask the creators quesitons about their work and how they made it. The exhibition had high quality contributions from over 30 Somerset artists, so it was hard to select just 3 works, but I managed and got the essay completed in time.

This is an analysis of three selected works from the ‘Shape and Form’ exhibition at the Heart of the Tribe Gallery in Glastonbury. The gallery only opened in September 2020 and despite the restrictions caused by the COVID pandemic, this was the third exhibition that the gallery has managed to stage since then.

Following a core artist group launch exhibition ‘Diversity’, and solo exhibition ‘Beauty and Truth’ by John Minshull, this exhibition was a collation of works submitted by 30 Somerset artists following an open call for contributions from the gallery core artists and online directory members.

Curated by gallery manager Kim von Coels (aka artist ‘The Krumble Empire’), the aim of the exhibition was ‘to explore the fundamental building blocks of visual art, both geometric and organic’. The exhibition was open from 3rd December -26th January and I managed to see it twice before lockdown restrictions came into force. A virtual tour (1) is also available here

1. Millie Gleeson: ‘All We’ll Know’

The Painting was displayed in a prominent position on the last wall as you exit the exhibition, directly opposite a canvas featuring an abstract female form in greyscale graphite, and the scale of this canvas (60 x 48 inches) made it really stand out.

I saw Millie’s solo show also entitled ‘All We’ll Know’ at the Red Brick Building in June 2019. She uses reference photographs to help with composition and is heavily influenced by her time in Berlin and Mexico.

Many of her works feature masks painted on the (mostly nude) female subjects, so what I found fascinating about this piece was that the face was illuminated and prominent and she is swathed in billowing robes.

I contacted the artist for more information on the context and process of the painting.

She told me this is a self-portrait, painted from a 'still' of the artist performing in a music video her friends (the Hics) produced, also called "All We'll Know"( 2 )

Gleeson started began painting this in 2014, but it was put into storage until she revisited to complete it in 2019.

She commented ‘it was a huge time of transformation and the end of an era and perhaps I had to return to the painting when I felt I'd fully transformed.’

The Painting has lots of movement, which is representative of the video it is sourced from, the performers are in an industrial setting and are either submerged under water, or as captured in this image, rising up and breaking free. The robes are flowing and there is a sense of movement in the arms and legs. Her website (3) describes how the work was developed as part of a series developed during an Artist Residency at Arquetopia in Mexico.“The residency applied Levanasian ethics to the artistic process, teaching to respect the integrity of differences and question the desire for totalisation. Questioning whether you can truly know the other and if you only know the self, how can you respect the space between?” “Any creative project I have embarked on at the core has revolved around the topic of identity or identification. Following the residency lectures my project became entirely introspective, leading me on a journey of self-discovery. I began to look at my own shadow, distortions, fractions, mirror images, deep and dark aspects of myself. Using the vibrant colours that surrounded me I began to explore my own conflicts and duality through a series of self-portraits, in an exploration to “All we’ll know.”I really resonated with this piece as it reminded me of the Salvador Dali painting ' Christ of St John of the Cross’ I saw at the Glasgow Kelvingrove museum. Light comes from above and the arms are widely placed. The pale blue colour palette and rich drapery in the dress against the dark background is similar to that shown in ‘The Countess of Southampton’ ( 4) (Anthony Van Dyck 1599-1641), seen at the Cambridge Fitzwilliam museum.

Ruary is an Edinburgh-born artist who has lived and worked all over the world and is a gallery core artist working in an attic studio above.

He is inspired by nature and psychedelic culture (6) and another of his works ‘Sacred Chaos’ was chosen as the exhibition feature image.

I interviewed the artist to learn more about the context and process behind these works. Ruary explained that “Trap Dance was a process-oriented piece, created as an experiment using masking tape to create random abstract geometric forms”.

The piece depicts two females and a male dancing, with Cubist and Italian futurists-influenced segmentation and distortion of the figures. The artist noted that the title ‘Trap Dance’ is a pun, as the two female figures appear to be being pressed together by the male dancer (Allen quipped it should have been called ‘Tape Dance’). The experimental process with repeated randomly placed masking tape and paint until the forms emerged, resulted in an abstract image.

The artist saw the forms of the dancers appearing and added them at late stages of development. It is more narrative in comparison with the cover piece ‘Sacred Chaos’; which was another process oriented, straight-edged construction using platonic forms, mathematical constructions, intersecting circles and combining them to make a striking abstract image. The artist has a lifelong interest in Alchemy in art and alchemical symbolism, and this is evident in the works presented here (7).

The colour palette is cooler at top and has more vibrant and darker tones at bottom, with a spotlight in the top left corner, which the artist suggests is reminiscent of a stage or nightclub scene. There is lots of movement as the figures are interweaved amongst the abstract shapes.

This painting is hung in a long narrow corridoor directly opposite the toilets (another ‘trap’ reference?) and adjacent to the exit door to the garden space. The works surrounding the piece are smaller in scale and have less visual impact, and I think that having to stand so close to it makes it more of an experience as the viewer is drawn into the movement and abstract forms on the canvas. There is no opportunity to stand back and see the work in a wider context so one is trapped like the dancers in the image.

3. ‘Lost Toys’ by Julie Ackerman .

This is an installation assemblage sculpture piece selected from a collection of 10 museum themed boxes. (8). The work is inspired by the ‘cabinets of curiosities’ or ‘Wunderkammer’ (as described by Anastasiya Gutnic from the Metropolitan museum of art here with an example from the German artist Nicolaus I Kolb) (9).

The cabinet is displayed with a second piece called and ‘Science Lab’ and both are relatively small in scale requiring the viewer to lean in close to see the details.

Key elements of a Wunderkammer are:

· Naturalia (natural, found objects),

· Artificialia/Artifacta (mand-made, abstract objects), and

· Scientifica (scientific instruments and technological items)

The cabinet contents are carefully considered to reflect the message that the artist is trying to express, and fits the categories described above.

I chose this piece as the lockdown period has made many of us question what is important to us and question our consumerism and its’ environmental impact.Using upcycled packaging and materials has been a theme of my own creative practice this year.

The artist states on her biography (8)

“I was compelled to take on the challenge of using unwanted objects and materials as an art medium. Raising awareness of a world in crisis through art is paramount in my work. By transforming waste into beautiful works of art, I hope to inspire and encourage the 'Art of Recycling' turning a negative situation into a positive one.”

The artist goes on to state “The impact of overpopulation means greater demand on natural resources and an escalating waste problem. We need nature to thrive by reducing our demand for new materials, leaving nature intact.”

In the ‘Lost Toys’ cabinet a collection of sticks and a pine-cone (Naturalia) are surrounded by a plastic ‘monster’ (Artificialia) and assorted toy animals. A green butterfly rests on a branch with a wooden ’tribal style’ peg and a ‘protective’ dragon flying overhead and a lurking toy hairbrush in the background.

The second cabinet has scientific paraphernalia (Scientifica) and a skull with glasses, references to the impact of sanitary waste and plastic pollution on marine life. There are also humorous touches, like the small creature and drawing pin on top of the skull.

This fits with the exhibition theme as it invites the viewer to examine how the items relate to each other and to our own experiences. Viewers will respond to the individual elements and interpret their relationships differently.

The placing of the cabinets in a transition space between two rooms containing large paintings is also an interesting variation in form and requires a different type of interaction by the viewer.

Summary

The aim of the exhibition was to explore the fundamental building blocks of visual art, both geometric and organic, and the curator has selected a broad range of 2D, and 3D exhibits to really allow this theme to be represented. I found it quite difficult to select only three works for this essay as there was such a high quality to choose from.

These three selected artists have interpreted the theme in quite different ways, but one gets a sense of shape and form from all of their works shown.

References

1. Shape and Form Exhibition Virtual tour: https://www.infohost360.com/heart12/

2. Millie Gleeson – The Hics reference video "All We'll Know" https://youtu.be/RB2MweTwfQY.

3. Millie Gleeson website: https://milliegleeson.co.uk/all-well-know

4. Van Dyck Image reference found in Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge guide, p37. 2016 ISBN: 978-0-9574434-9-5

5. Image sourced from https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/rachel-de-ruvigny-countess-of-southampton-as-fortune-5613

6. Ruary Allen Artist Bio: https://heartofthetribe.com/portfolio_page/ruary-allan/

7. Ruary Allen Artist website: https://artalchemist.com/

8. Julie Ackerman Artist Bio: https://heartofthetribe.com/artist-directory-view-by-artist/user/77/

9. Cabinet of Curiosities reference video: https://youtu.be/j6q10euArks Nicolaus I Kolb (German, 1582–1621). Apothecary Cart, 1617–18. Veneer: ebonized pearwood (Pyrus communis), ebony, partially gilded silver; carcass: conifer; interior: protective quilted cushion covered in red silk, drawers and chest lined with red silk velvet; gold, trimming; mounts and fittings: brass, partially gilded; thirty-two (32) vessels and utensils: glass, partially gilded silver, low carbon steel, leather, 11 x 11 x 9 1/16 in. (28 x 28 x 23 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Anna-Maria, and Stephen Kellen Acquisitions Fund, 2019 (2019.229.1a–c–.32a, b)

10. Cabinet of Curiosities reference description: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cabinet_of_curiosities

11. Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker, "How to do visual (formal) analysis," in Smarthistory, September 18, 2017, accessed January 28, 2021, https://smarthistory.org/visual-analysis/.

#artists on tumblr #art history #glastonbury #ruary allen #millie gleeson #julie ackerman #heart of the tribe #strodecollegeartdepartment #anniesartthings #anndimentartist #artalchemist #the hics #wunderkammer #all we know #local gallery #shape and form #ual art and design

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warzofstarz · 5 years ago

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star wars Thoughts at 4 am

ok so rise of skywalker happened,,, and i have mixed feelings. i didn’t hate it but i didn’t love it either (and i usually love star wars movies), so i am in desperate need of a little rant about both the good and the bad in the conclusion of the saga

DISLIKE

1. JJ ABRAMS DISREGARDING ALL OF THE DEVELOPMENT WE EXPERIENCED DURING LAST JEDI. this is what i am most upset about. you don’t have to like tlj, but you can’t pretend it never happened. it’s like he was trying to completely backtrack on everything that happened in tlj bc it was ~his~ vision for the franchise. i think that is disrespectful to not only rian, but to fans who grew attached to the development of the characters. we see finn revert back to first movie finn (lovesick puppy lowkey), rey become an invincible child of the sith, the end of the skywalker family line, complete abandonment of rose, and a total shift in the message of the trilogy. all jammed last second into the film. the next few points all have to do w this

2. the fact that in tlj it is revealed that rey is truly nobody- she’s not some all-powerful descendant or some with royal blood- and tros completely ignores this and makes her a palpatine. the whole point before was that she’s normal, but that doesn’t make her any less powerful, smart, or strong. the message from the first two movies was that you don’t have to be in these elite categories to be special and powerful, which is an important message to every single child and adult watching. it empowers us as viewers to believe that we have the capability to be great, no matter our status, birth name, ethnicity, class, or where we are from. you can find family when you have none. you have the power to change your life. when jj decide LAST SECOND to make her a palpatine, with no clues thrown into the first two movies to lead us to believe this, it feels like a joke. the rey we had come to sympathize with is suddenly an all-powerful sith, seeming stronger than even anakin and yoda, even though she had never even completed training. this reveal is not emotional and literally loses respect rather than gaining any from the audience. a cop out. i felt less emotionally attached to rey than in the previous two films bc of her sheer perfect power

3. rose being 100% sidelined even though her character was incredible in last jedi. her arc was one that i truly couldn’t wait to see finish and sadly we never got it because she was completely abandoned so it could just be a trio once more. i love her. the disrespect.

4. the sudden introduction of zorri just so that poe has someone to flirt with??? like if you wanted to prove he was heterosexual make him flirt w someone he has actual on screen history and chemistry with, like uhhhh idk? rey?????? dont get me wrong tho she is a badass and i love how she shuts poe down!! queen

5. how they throw it in there that finn is force sensitive but don’t fully explain it?? and he never even tells rey??? this is SUCH a cool concept yet it’s never even hinted at until the third movie and its not further developed as to why. likewise i wish we saw the stormtroopers before they left the first order. see what they dealt with and the abuse they endured bc it’s such an important facet of the trilogy and literally drives finns character

6. how we never touch on why poe felt it when rey was tortured?

7. i wish leia hadn’t died and she rallied support w lando

8. if they are a dyad why didn’t rey and ben fight palpatine together?? then no one would have died??

9. i’m just really sad that they chose to kill ben because even though rey takes their name, the skywalker bloodline is gone, while a palpatine lives on. the entire purpose of the first six movies is anakin bringing balance by defeating palpatine. somehow, palpatine survived this (never explained!!!!), which completely defeated the purpose of the first six films and strips anakins chosen one status and ultimate sacrifice of any true importance. in the end of tros, the palpatine bloodline lives on while the skywalker bloodline is gone, and i can’t help but to feel like that contradicts the theme of the original saga in which the skywalkers defeat palpatine and hope lives on.

10. lastly, i just don’t think george lucas would have wanted ben to die. when people kill off main characters to make the movie more emotional, he has literally said “i don’t like that and i don’t believe that” he goes on to say that he hates when main characters are killed, stating “the whole point of the film, the whole emotion that i am trying to get at the end of the film, is for you to be real uplifted, emotionally and spiritually, and feel absolutely good about life. that is the greatest thing we could ever possibly do.” so, i’m sure some of you could see why i have a little issue with killing someone who has finally recognized the error of their ways and wants to be better. yes, he has done awful things that cannot be separated from his new identity as ben, but i think that it would have been even more impactful to make him live with the crimes he has committed and still make him keep fighting his demons to join his legacy on the light side. overall, bens death left a sour taste in my mouth, and for that reason i don’t walk out feeling uplifted. i just wish i knew what george lucas is thinking right now.

1. ben solo’s arc and han. now, before some of you pop off at me, i still think he was awful and horrible and didn’t deserve instant forgiveness, but i also think that someone who has grown up his entire life being treated like the spawn of satan by all adults who are supposed to love him would fuck him up majorly, like it would to anyone else in that situation. i think that he deserved another chance at experiencing love and happiness, and i absolutely adored the scene with him and han solo. it was honestly one of the best parts of the whole movie. thank you harrison ford. the whole “i don’t think i’m strong enough” and him tearing up to his dad CUT DEEP. AND THE “dad-“ “i know” LIKE LITERALLY MY HEART. bringing back the “i love you” “i know” so they are LITERALLY TELLING EACH OTHER THEY LOVE EACH OTHER!!! i’m at peace. adam driver’s acting was absolutely phenomenal. so much respect for him. truly incredible.

2. i loved poe and rey’s bickering. lowkey thought it built some chemistry between them. and how poe seemed quite jealous that finn knew stuff about rey that he didn’t, literally asking him more than once (1nce) about it, like???? han leia vibes. tea. but also poe and finn

3. i really liked jannah SOOO much (and i usually am not one for introducing a character so late) but, like i explained in detail above, i wish they had built that backstory better and introduced her a little bit sooner with more screen time. but i loved her and finns connection and understanding of their trauma.

4. FINN AND POE BEING THE CUTEST HUMANS EVER. that’s all. i just love how they care so very much about each other like stop. cogenerals.

5. ALL THE JEDI VOICES WERE SO FREAKING COOL. CHILLS.

6. i honestly think that’s all. i don’t have anything more

7. OH WAIT HUX BEING THE SPY. i ate that shit up. yes. we stan. AND the hint that he was going along w poe’s phone call in tlj so that the resistance could escape (that’s how poe KNEW it) like YES

8. the animation of young luke and leia made my heart weep

9. that lil sketchy bitch babu and the new cone droid that talks,, mmm

10. OH THAT THE FORCE BOND LETS THEM TRANSMIT OBJECTS THRU IT LIKE THE VADER MASK SCENE WAS ICONIC

11. this is so sad that i am putting this in my “like” parts but the fact that they didn’t kill chewie and that they showed him being so torn up about leias death

12. OH AND CHEWIE GETTING HIS MEDAL THAT WAS SO HYPE

13. rey burying the skywalker lightsabers and looking into the sunset, perfectly tying back to luke doing the same 42 years ago

overall, if i don’t think too hard, i did like it and felt kind of at peace. BUT it could’ve been much better @ JJ :/ i feel like it didn’t do the saga justice as the “conclusion of the saga” bc there is still so much left unanswered. but, like i said, i did enjoy it a lot and have so much love for this world. rant over. i love u star wars. thank u for everything. <3

#starwars #tros #the rise of skywalker #star wars #ben solo #rey #rey skywalker #jj abrams #poe dameron #finn #george lucas #im upset #the last jedi #tlj #the force awakens #tfa

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kittenfemme27 · 4 years ago

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Magrunner: Dark Pulse

"That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die."

That’s the often misquoted line written by H.P. Lovecraft and spoken by his fictional “mad poet” Abdul Ahazred in “The Call of Cthulhu”, a short story written by the very same author. It’s meant to symbolize the same thing that almost all of Lovecraft’s work was meant to symbolize: That there are things that view us the same way we’d view a simple speck of dust, or an ant. As so tiny and insignificant that we’re practically unnoticed in the eyes of this massive and overwhelming force. Lovecraft had an intense fear and at the same time an intense fascination with the idea of being insignificant, of being forgotten and unworthy, of being completely and utterly impotent in the face of power that was greater than himself. Every “Old God” that he wrote about is so far reaching above humanity and so incomprehensible that even the act of knowing of their existence was incomprehensible for the human mind, and would oft drive those with that forbidden knowledge to complete and utter insanity. This isn’t really a disputed interpretation of Lovecraft's work, it's barely an interpretation at all. It’s considered a simple set of facts of the universe that he created.

So imagine my surprise when I started playing “Magrunner: Dark Pulse”, a fairly mundane and simple futuristic sci-fi puzzle game marketed to have a “Lovecraftian Twist” and the final nine levels have good ol’ Cthulhu himself checking in on me from the skies above, literally one hundred thousand times my size, and simply observing me like I’m his personal favourite little human. As he communicates with me and makes it clear that I am in-fact, his personal favourite little human and he just can’t wait for me to ascend to his level. As far as a piece of lovecraftian work goes, this game was a doozy. But we’ll get back to that. Before we even get there, I’d first like to talk about the game itself.

Gameplay:

Magrunner is a first person physics based puzzle game featuring magnetism as its element in which you interact with the puzzles in each room. Your goal in each puzzle room is to use various platforms, blocks, and other bits of very clearly marked tech in each room that may be magnetized with either a positive polarity or a negative polarity, and combine that with the physics of the Unreal 3 engine to solve challenges and make it to the next room. To be blunt, the game is squarely a Portal rip-off from its design ideals. Your makeshift magnet glove-gun hybrid can fire 2 colors, one being a negative polarity and one being a positive. Like-colors are attracted to themselves, whereas opposite colors reflect each other. The idea of using magnets in a physics based first person puzzler isn’t an awful one, and neither is the fact it clearly wants to ape Portal’s ideas. Where it fails, unfortunately, is execution. The physics aren’t up to snuff with what you do most of the time and it leads a lot of the puzzles to be confusing or simply frustrating, as even when you know what you’re doing you still have to rely on the physics system of the engine to cooperate with you. Early on, you are tasked with getting 4 small magnetizable cubes together to form into a large one. What this actually has you end up doing is fighting with the cubes and the level as they fling themselves wildly off of each other and into unreachable parts of the level itself. The entire game functions this way and it really removes any sense of challenge or control you have over each puzzle, often feeling like you lucked your way into a solution rather than figured out the puzzle yourself in any meaningful way.

Buggy physics in the Unreal engine are not the developers fault entirely though, the game is an indie project that was kickstarted and for that alone i’m willing to give them a pass on engine problems that they likely did not have the programmers to fix. But, unfortunately, I can’t give a pass on the game failing to iteratively teach you how the mechanics work level by level. Whenever you magnetize an object, it creates a field, and you can see this field thankfully by pressing a key. Anything in that field will automatically interact with anything else that is magnetized in it. In general, these fields are wildly inconsistent in how they operate. Usually, they’re spheres centered around the magnetized object and cause objects within the sphere to either attract or repel. On occasion though you’ll find pads that create a cone of magnetism going the direction that it faces, up to what is an arbitrary height. Later on, you’re given the ability to place your own fields on any flat surface, allowing the levels to become more bare-bones as you have to create the magnetism points yourself. All of this combined means that If you learn that something works in a previous level, there is no guarantee that it will work in the next level the exact same way. Experimentation in this game is often fraught with a frustrating sigh of not knowing if the game intended for something to work that way, or if you just broke the physics again. Don’t even get me started on the fact there are multiple combat sections inside a puzzle game, ugh.

Art & Sound:

Magrunners similarities to Portal do not end with the gameplay and design, however. Aesthetically, the first and second half of the three act game are ripped directly from Portal and Portal 2. The first half of the game features sleek interiors inside of a testing facility for yourself and other “Magrunners” where everything is cleanly lit, sparse on color and detail, as space-age and sci-fi as you could imagine. These first set of aperture inspired levels lack any sort of hard edge or detail, with every single element in the room being curved and well lit and as minimalist as possible. The second half of the game takes places in facilities “underneath” the one you were in prior and are dilapidated grey and brown ruins of previous testing facilities, complete with all the same tools and magnetizable pads and tech that you had seen previously but this time a much older and “70’s” style of sci-fi aesthetic, but covered in grime and dirt and dust from the years of abandonment and rot. I cannot understate how unsubtle this is. The first third of the game is Aperture Science bonafide and part right after is Old Aperture from Portal 2. Magrunner’s aesthetic inspirations are worn very clearly on their sleeve, and it makes the game feel very boring and bland by comparison. It’s impossible to play Magrunner: Dark Pulse and not feel as though it was simply a junior developer exclaiming: “What if Portal/Portal 2, but Magnets?!” while the rest of the developers collectively lose their minds from excitement.

The music of the game was provided, as far as i can tell by the credits, by Incomptech AKA Kevin Macleod. A musician known for releasing thousands of free songs for use in any creative project. This isn’t, by default, a bad thing. Most of the music was not things I had heard from his library before and thus I didn’t immediately twig that it was his library, but unfortunately the music selection isn’t enough. As in, there are not enough tracks to fit the game. There are 39 levels in total and each level features a music track, but often and especially in the later parts, the music tracks are entirely re-used. This is most apparent when one of the tracks is a rising piercing noise, like the type you’d hear in a horror movie right before the slasher stabs into someone, but it never ends or pays off. It just loops upon itself and becomes this droning nightmare of a track for however long the physics force you to stay in a level. I counted 6 times this happened and each time it was so loud and obnoxious and frustrating that I had to simply turn off the game audio to be able to bare the level at all.

None of the other sound effects are worth writing home about, either, unfortunately. In something like Portal, there are pretty iconic sounds within its soundscape. The sound of the portal gun firing and portals being created, the soft and child-like speech of the turrets, the chiding and derogatory AI voice of GLaDOS, yet Dark Pulse lacks anything even half as memorable. Aside from the repetitive music, you are only given small bits of dialogue between each level and that’s really it. There’s a lot of character they could have created here, for example: When you gain the ability to create your own magnetic fields at will, the center of them is a dog-robot that your player character created in his spare time as a child. Creating one of these points could’ve been met with an adorable puppy squeak or bark, anything like that. Your character or the various ones that speak to you could’ve chimed in at any point in levels outside of the beginning or end of them, and yet they do not. It’s a big missed opportunity.

Story:

Speaking of characters, whew boy, are there a lot of them

Magrunner takes place in the distant future where a corporation that is effectively Facebook has taken over the planet by connecting every single person to its service essentially from birth and making it as essential to daily life as possible. Because of this, this corporation has become the de-facto richest company in the world. Its founder, Xander Gruckzeber, whose last name is literally an anagram of Zuckerberg, has started a contest in which 7 contestants can compete to become “Magrunners” and take a trip to outer space in a ship that is being powered on experimental magnetic based technology. The contest involves each contestant going through a series of puzzles that prove their aptitude with the magnetic tech that Xander’s company has developed.

Your character, an orphan named Dax C. Ward, is the only one of the 7 contestants that does not have a corporate sponsor. Instead, he’s a boy genius who built his own robotic puppy at age 10 and at age 21 built his own magnetic glove that interacts with the magnetic technology and allows him to compete. Ever the underdog, you’re helped along by your adoptive uncle Gamaji who himself is a six-armed mutant and an outcast among humanity for it.

Sound a little on the nose? Like it may be lacking subtlety in any form? Yeah, the entire game is like that. From Xander’s last name anagram to the fact that your own character’s name is itself a reference to “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward” which was a short horror novel written by Lovecraft, the game never really had a chance at subtlety in the first place. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, mind you, but in between the re-hashed artstyle and the immediate and obvious references, and the fact that It tries to throw a very by the numbers cyber punk aesthetic ripped straight out of Blade Runner at you in an opening cutscene that it immediately abandons afterwards. It all just feels tired from the moment you hit New Game and incredibly confused about its own direction. It can’t decide if it’s a Lovecraftian setting, a Sci-fi setting, if it’s trying to say something about Facebook or if it's just going to be Portal: The Magnetic Spin-off.

As the game progresses and Act 1 ends, you find the corpse of another Magrunner being eaten by an anthropomorphic fish person. You are then told by Gamaji that he’s going to help you escape the facility, but this will require you to go through the older parts of the facility as he slowly hacks into the mainframe and tries to get you out via service elevators. Inside these older puzzle rooms are repeated writings on the wall, ravings of someone gone mad with the knowledge of the Old Ones, and giant sculptures depicting various Cthulhu-esque monsters. This would be bad and scary enough on its own, but Gamaji is quick to let you know that portals to some unknown dimension and fish monsters are being spotted in cities all over the world causing havoc and terror.

About halfway through Act 2, Gamaji drops the bombshell on Dax that his parents didn’t actually die in a car crash like he’s told him all his life, but that they were Old God worshipping cultists and that Dax’s birth in and of itself may somehow be related to that cult and its actions. This tracks, then, because Dax continually receives strange visions in the form of uncovered memories of “The Seven” attempting some ritual to seal off some force from beyond. Act 2 ends with the revelation that Xanders assistant, Kram, is actually behind all the ritual sacrifice and is attempting to summon Cthulhu himself to our world from the Great Beyond. So far, Act 1 and 2 have been rather cliche but haven’t been anything i’d call unremarkable or strange in a Lovecraftian inspired story.

And then Act 3 happens.

Act 3 sees you flung into the far reaches of Actually Literally Space, with various bits of the test chambers around that you must use to get to portals that are marked by a cute little icon of Cthulhu himself that transport you further into space and to the next level. You can quite literally see our pale blue dot to your side if you look, including a gigantic eldritch device that seems to be either siphoning souls to it, or depositing monsters onto the planet. The fact you can breathe in space is just handwaved as “Something Kram must be doing.” and is never brought up again. What really struck me more than anything in these levels, though, is that Cthulhu himself literally appears before you every 2 minutes in each level and simply watches you while repeating “Cthulhu... Fhtagn... R'lyeh...” over and over and over. This was the moment the game honestly lost any credibility from me. Simply seeing a statue in Act 2 caused Dax to go into a screaming panic as he was able to perceive how a human may be turned into a fish person. But seeing the literal Old God himself doesn’t bother him? And why is Cthulhu so interested in you in the first place? Unfortunately, we get an answer to both of those questions and it might be the most insane thing i’ve ever seen in a piece of Lovecraft inspired media.

Dax, somehow through the work of the cult that his parents were part of, is the chosen one. Cthulhu not only cares about him and wants to see him succeed, but even helps him to literally ascend and become an Old God himself. But not, of course, before letting Dax have a heart to heart with Gamaji wherein he tells him that he has seen through Cthulhu’s eyes himself and must now ascend, as he has no other option. Because Cthulhu is a big softie on adoptive relationships, I guess. The game’s final level has you face off against Kram in a boss battle where you fling explosive cubes at each other and attempt to destroy the esoteric relay connected to Earth. During their fight, Dax taunts Kram who tells him that what he is doing is the will of his Master, Cthulhu, and Dax knowingly retorts that what Kram is doing is “Not what He wants.” As if he has a direct line into the Old Gods mind itself.

I cannot overstate how much of an absolute failure of the mythos itself that this entire story arc is. The Lovecraft mythos was not, and never has been, made for “Chosen One” stories. If you survive an encounter in the first place, you’re often left with horrible scars that never truly leave you because Cthulhu and the Old Gods are in some ways meant to be representative of trauma and a fear of your own trauma. Making Dax suddenly an Old One and a special Chosen One is a complete and utter failure on a scale I've never, ever seen before. It’s been days and I'm honestly still reeling from the fact that was a design decision someone agreed on.

Conclusion:

Magrunner: Dark Pulse is a confusing and often frustrating game with a story that utterly fails its mythos and setting in just about every way possible. But I don’t want to pretend that I didn’t have any fun playing it. I did, and it’s not the worst game I've ever played. It’s not even so much a “so bad it’s good” game, but it’s more of an indie game that clearly tried its hardest and for that I can’t fault it. It’s developers clearly love the Cthulhu and Lovecraftian mythos and really, really, really loved the Portal series and wanted to combine those things into their own spin on it and in that respect, it’s competent enough that I could recommend it to someone who really enjoys those sort of puzzle platformer based games. But... man. That ending. Yikes.

#Magrunner: Dark Pulse #Review #Played on: PC

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the-trans-otter33 · 5 years ago

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Sanders Sides The Martian AU

Note: I used canon information from the original The Martian characters so jobs, education levels, and other facts could be accurate to the story. It will remain this way just for the sake of accuracy. All original character info can be found on The Martian Wikia and all credit is due to Author Andy Weir, creator of The Martian

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Introduction Post

JULY 7TH, YEAR 2035

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Roles:

Commander: Thomas Sanders

Doctor: Patton McManus

Pilot: [Major] Roman Cone

Computer Specialist: Logan Locke

Navigator: [Dr.] Remus Cone

Botanist: [Dr.] Virgil AsheFord

EVA Specialist: D. Dain Dechard

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Character Info.

April 24th, 1993, 42, Thomas Sanders- Thomas was the first to be chosen for the Ares III mission. He graduated with honors from the US Naval Academy with a Doctorate in oceanography. After the navy, he entered into CalTech's Division of Geological and Planetary Sciences before joining NASA and taking trips to the SpaceX Station. He takes a lot of time to speak at public gatherings and conferences, encouraging others to achieve their dreams as he did and living life to the fullest. Thomas has dedicated his recent months as Commander to making sure his team bonds and remains safe, oftentimes treating them like family or adopted sons. Thomas is NASA’s first openly gay commander and is proud of it and his 22 year long marriage with his husband, Daniel.

Appearance: Thomas Sanders is 5' 10" with a healthy body. He is not lean nor pudgy, being in a somewhat perfect balance in-between. Sanders wears a classic brown undercut with no ability to grow facial hair, much like Patton. His eye color is brown and he enjoys staying in old and new uniforms more than regular clothing.

January 15th, 2001, 34, Patton McManus- The youngest member of the 7 person crew on Ares III, Patton McManus is not someone to be trifled with, especially when it comes to his intelligence. Due to his young age, he finds himself underestimated a lot of the time, and not listened to. It was no surprise to him and his parents though when he got accepted into the Yale School of Medicine, receiving the Norma Bailey Berniker Prize, and his extensive training in Aerospace Medicine as a Captain in the United States Air Force Reserves. He joined NASA in 2029, increasing his training with a Masters Degree in Biomedical Science and was the second person chosen for the Ares III mission. Kind, caring, and generally just a sweetheart, Patton hopes to lighten all spirits on the mission and hopes to bond closely with everyone on board. Dr. McManus hopes that one day his 4-year-old son [from a past relationship] will follow his views on the world and grow up to help people just as his father does.

Appearance: Patton McManus is a soft healthy, 6' teddy bear. Dr. McManus is ginger, his hair always messy with untamed short curls. Freckles spot his face around his nose and under his eyes. He's a bit pudgy around the middle, having close to a dad bod [even though he has no kids]. He cannot grow any facial hair and wears round glasses with thick light blue frames, matching the color of his eyes. Patton tends to wear light-colored polo's and khaki's if he can but jeans work out just fine too. He is also almost always seen with a grey jacket tied around his waist or his neck resting on his shoulders.

June 4th, 1995, 40, Roman Cone- Roman was the third person to join the Ares III Crew, immediately getting along with Commander Sanders and Dr. McManus. Before joining the crew, Roman spent eleven years in the United States Air Force. Originally trained as a fighter pilot, Major Cone worked his way up to the USAF Test Pilot School. Continuing to keep up high marks and great performance he quickly gained respect from his peers and commanders. From a young age, he knew he was destined for NASA so he gained a bachelor of science in astronautical engineering at USAF Academy. At NASA he also became an MDV/MAV Specialist. Witty and outgoing, Roman enjoys taking up all the attention in the room, often doing dramatics to do so.

Appearance: Roman Cone is a sight to see, standing at 5' 9". He is more on the muscular side, though nothing near Dain's level of muscle mass. Major Cone is dirty blond, sporting a magnificent pompadour, never seen without it perfectly done, he has long sideburns that transition from blond to brown the more he grows them out. Roman tries not to let them grow into mutton chops but sometimes finds them there anyway. Surprisingly Roman enjoys sweatpants and baggy shirts more than anything fancy or dramatic. Roman's eyes are light green.

November 3rd, 1998, 36, Logan Locke- Logan graduated at the young age of 16, winning in NASA's largest hackathon a year later. Afterward, Logan moved onto MIT for dual undergraduate degrees in math and computer science. While starting graduate school, Mr. Locke started a private software company in the hopes of becoming a software engineer and CEO. Though his plans changed suddenly when he came into contact with a SpaceX executive who was impressed by his work. His decision to join NASA was later founded when she helped develop software that would later become an integral part of the Hermes operating system. With that knowledge of the Hermes, he wiggled his way into the Ares III crew, being the fourth one to join as the System operator and Reactor Technician. Logan found himself seemingly alone among the crew due to his introverted lifestyle along with his inability to "take a joke" [said by Roman after joke about MIT]. His emotionally repressive behavior got especially worse when Remus joined a few days after, mocking Logan for his OCD. These habits and behaviors seemed to only start getting better after meeting Ares III Botanist Virgil AsheFord, who shared some of these traits. Locke never includes his thoughts though when anyone bring up parents or family back home, no one knows why.

Appearance: Logan Locke is a lanky 5' 8" nerd. Wearing rectangle-shaped glasses with white half frames. Logan has thin cheekbones with a thick chin strap beard connected with a black goatee. His hair is slicked back but not as tightly nor as long as Dain's and without curls in the back. Logan's eyes are dark blue shade, often matching his professional outfits. Mr. Locke often wears button-down shirts or polos with a blue or black tie running below his belly button. he usually tucks his shirts into his pants, which are almost always jeans held up with an always new looking leather belt. he also wears what Roman calls "old man shoes" though he is quite proud of their permanent shininess. Logan actively chooses to not work out, instead, he just makes sure to eat as healthily as he can.

June 5th, 1995, 40, Remus Cone- Remus was the fifth person to be chosen for Ares III. Remus was invited to join the crew through NASA and the European Space Agency after being located in Germany for several years. Holding two master's degrees in chemistry and astrophysics. Remus has also earned a doctorate in chemistry from spending six months on Antarctica. Remus has published dozens of papers in international journals to pass time. Dr. Cone felt the need to assert himself with the family name after his brother Roman upstaged him constantly in college. Remus is fluent in French and German, often using those languages to swear when visiting his brother in the USA. Remus has a knack for being a trouble-maker around almost everyone he meets, making messes mostly on accident due to his childish clumsy nature. Dr. Cone is only found being serious when there's work to be done, the dedication to his job is one of the only things bonding him with the rest of the Ares III crew.

Appearance: Remus us a 5' 10" pure blond man. he is often found wearing unmatched clothing that some would call ugly af [but he likes it that way]. Sporting a low hanging man bun, his hair just might be the most yellow thing at NASA HQ and on the Hermes, but it's completely natural! To go along with his man bun, Remus has a majestically neat handlebar mustache. Remus resembles his older twin brother Roman a lot with his light blue eyes and wide chin. Baring a bigger nose than Roman though. He also cannot grow any other facial hair. Remus isn't as muscled as Roman, being a bit round in the middle but tries his hardest to remain interested in working out. Nowadays his interest is kept by working out with his gym buddy, Dain.

December 19th, 1999, 34, Virgil Asheford- Virgil had spent eleven months already working at NASA when he was chosen for Ares III. Originally attending the University of Chicago, Doctor AsheFord moved to Northwestern University to earn his Ph.D. in Plant Biology and Conservation with an emphasis on hydropedalogy and environmental engineering. When joining NASA, his work focused on hydrologic flow paths and sustainable water resources management within Earth's Critical Zone. Virgil spent the next two years in the peace Corps engineering sustainable agriculture and water irrigation systems for developing nations. Afterward, Virgil applied to the NASA Astronaut Candidate Program and was ultimately selected. Throughout his life Virgil has had a constant battle with his depression and anxiety, growing more introverted over time. His interest in Botany helped him through the battle he has fought so hard to win. Despite over complicating many different thoughts, solutions, and ideas, Virgil often finds the outcome satisfying and without flaw. Emotional repression from before and after his little sister's death made him hesitant to accept his part in Ares III until he met Computer Specialist Logan Locke, who also dealt with emotional repression. The two instantly bonded due to being different from the rest of the team as well as their inexplicable ability to fall into intensely deep existential crises.

Appearance: Virgil is a 5' 6" pale, thin man. He is healthily thin despite eating a lot [his fast metabolism runs in the family]. Virgil's hair was dyed crow-black before being selected for Ares III but is naturally brown in a Faux hawk style. Virgil usually has short stubble lining the bottom half of his face, never letting it grow longer than 1-2.5 millimeters long. Virgil regularly applies eye shadow around his eyes, earning him the nickname Plant Raccoon from Remus. AsheFord can always be seen wearing dark if-not-black clothing, unless in his NASA jumpsuit or his Ares III Mars EVA suit [he hates that it's mainly white and orange]. Virgil also wears many different types of boots, specifically requesting some from NASA for the Ares III trip to Mars. he takes extra time to make sure they are neat, clean, and shiny each morning, something he now does with Logan.

[Deceit] February 3rd, 1996, 39, D. [Dain] Dechard- The last member to join the Ares III crew, yet welcomed with open arms. Dechard often says little white lies to the crew and others around him to rile them up when he's bored and wants some action. He has a severe disliking towards his first name, so he tells people to call him Dain. The crew is always theorizing what his real name is. Dain was first brought into NASA by his father, a Rocket Engineer, and was immediately interesting in becoming an EVA Specialist so he could travel into space for Ares III. Before specializing in EVA, Dain had been a NASA Mathematician with an associate's degree, bachelor's degree, master's degree, and Ph.D. in Mathematics. From the age of 18 to 34, Dain was in College constantly to earn these degrees and never gained any friends because of it. Dain promised before leaving for the Ares III, that he’d keep in contact with his 9-year-old niece.

Appearance: Dain is a 6' 4" lean [ripped] gym rat. He's got slicked back ink-black hair with lines of grey coming in at his temples due to years of work and school. The back of his head is riddled with curls coming from the ends of strands. Sporting a lighter coal-black Van Dyke goatee [and quite proud of it too] he also has scars riddled across the side of his face from chin to forehead. More scars can be found throughout his body in an inconsistent pattern but suspiciously only on the right side of him. Dain's eyes are dark green and he tends to wear joggers and shorts along with skin-tight shirts. While his gym buddy has an ugly sense of fashion, Dain has no fashion sense whatsoever.

----------

Not-the-boys cast:

The administrator of NASA: Teddy [Theodore] Sanders [No relation to Commander Thomas Sanders]

Director of NASA Media Relations: Annie Montrose

Director of NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory: Bruce Ng

Head of Mars Operations: Venkat Kapoor

Flight Director for Ares III: Mitch Henderson

NASA Analyst/Satellite Coverage: Mindy Park

Physicist: Rich Purnell

--------

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#sanders sides #TheMartianAU #thomas sanders #Thomas is the only one with an unchanged last name #crazy right?#patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #intro post #future relationships #analogical

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cometsweepandleonidsfly · 5 years ago

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Editor's note: Megan Rapinoe gave her brother, Brian, a birthday shout-out on national TV after winning the 2019 Women's World Cup, the Golden Boot as the tournament's top scorer and the Golden Ball as its top player. Here is the story behind their complicated relationship.

DAYS BEFORE THE first game of the 2019 Women's World Cup, Brian Rapinoe jokingly texted his sister, Megan Rapinoe -- co-captain and star midfielder for the U.S. women's national team: "Megs, breaks my heart that you couldn't fly me out for an all-expenses-paid trip to France." She shot back: "Oh yeah, so sad I couldn't pamper you for a month in France."

An hour before kickoff against Thailand on June 11, the rest of the Rapinoe family found their seats in the Stade Auguste-Delaune in Reims; Brian charged his ankle monitor and rounded up the other guys in the dormitory at San Diego's Male Community Reentry Program, a rehabilitative program that allows an inmate to finish the final 12 months of his sentence taking classes or working jobs outside of prison.

The MCRP common room might not be France, but it's a vast improvement over solitary confinement, where Brian has watched Megan play in the previous two World Cups. He sat on a couch in his red USA jersey, watching on a 60-inch flat-screen, and felt "f---ing great." He had accomplished a major goal for himself: to get out of prison in time to watch his kid sister play in her third World Cup.

Every time the U.S. scored, the room full of men cheered loudly. Nobody there thought the U.S.'s 13 goals against Thailand and exuberant celebrations after each were done in poor taste. "This is what soccer should always be like," one man said.

"It's the World Cup: There's no f---ing holding back," 38-year-old Brian says. "This is every four years."

And his sister didn't hold back. When Megan scored goal No. 9 for the U.S., she sprinted to the sideline, spun around twice and then slid to the ground for a foot-kicking celebration. As the camera zoomed in on her, one of the guys yelled, "Holy s---, it's Brian!"

He has the same face as his sister.

The face, the charisma, the wit, the tendency to burst into song: In so many ways, Brian and Megan are alike. But they are also a study in contrasts: At 15 years old, Brian brought meth to school and has been in and out of incarceration ever since. At 15, Megan played with her first youth U.S. national team and started traveling the world. As a young inmate and gang member, Brian was inked with swastika tattoos -- an allegiance to white supremacy that he now disavows; as a professional soccer player, Megan was the first prominent white athlete to kneel to protest racial inequality.

Despite their different paths, the brother and sister have stayed close through letters, phone calls and texts. "I have so much respect for her. And not just because she's the s--- at soccer. It's her utter conviction in the things that she believes in and the stances she takes against injustices in the world," he says.

"I was her hero, but now -- there's no question -- she is mine."

Megan, right, "worshipped" Brian when they were children. Brian, who is five years older, introduced her to soccer early on.

GROWING UP, MEGAN and her twin sister, Rachael, adored Brian. He was their hero, the charismatic jokester who did Jim Carrey and Steve Urkel impressions and danced ridiculous dances. The girls had three other siblings, but he could make them laugh harder than anyone else could. He taught them how to catch crawfish in the creek, walked them to the patch of field across from the church and taught them soccer until his mother called them in with a two-finger whistle. In the side yard, he set up cones and showed his 4-year-old sisters how to dribble the ball -- with the inside of the foot only, with the outside of the foot only, left and then right. "And it wasn't like he drilled them. He let them do it their own way," says his mother, Denise Rapinoe, her voice cracking. "It was just the cutest thing, and we remember it so clearly."

In elementary school, like her brother, Megan was rough and tumble, and spoke her mind. Her second-grade teacher's aide pulled Denise aside to relay the following scene: Megan came in from the playground, walked into the classroom, stood with her arms on her hips and announced, "Brian Rapinoe is my brother, and I am just like him!"

"I worshipped him," Megan says. "He played left wing, so I played left wing. He wore No. 7; I wore No. 7. He got a bowl cut, so I did too."

So when Brian first started smoking marijuana as a 12-year-old, a 7-year-old Megan was confounded. Why was he doing that? Brian still doesn't know for sure. "Right from the start, I was hooked," he says. "One drug always led to the next." He was also attracted to the "fast life," he says, to getting high, to driving nice cars and to the "hype around this lifestyle." She wanted him to stop, and she was still young enough to think there was something she could do. Three years later, when her parents sat her and Rachael down and told them the police had arrested Brian for bringing meth to school, she cried. He was going to juvenile detention. She did not understand: What had happened to her big brother?

"For many years, Megan and Rachael were pissed as hell," Brian says. "They still loved me, they still let me know they were there for me, but they were like, 'What the f--- are you doing?'"

"My mother is the queen of the family," Brian, left, says of Denise Rapinoe, right. "I just love her so much. I'm such a baby when it comes to her."

BY 18 YEARS OLD, Brian had moved on to harder drugs -- heroin, specifically -- and he became more reckless. He was charged with car theft, evading arrest and a hit-and-run while driving under the influence of drugs -- and now, as an adult, his juvenile detention days were over. He was sent to prison. Within months, he aligned himself with the white prison gang and was inked with Nazi tattoos. A swastika on his palm; lightning bolts on his fingers, sides and calves

These tattoos devastated his family. "The prejudice, the racism -- it was so against the way he'd been raised," Denise says. "He wasn't that kind of kid. He was kind, his nature was so loving."

To Brian, the swastikas weren't about prejudice and racism at that point -- they were about heroin and survival. To support his addiction, he needed to be, in his words, "an active participant in prison culture." The California prison system was segregated. That meant Brian lived strictly among the white population. "You come in as a kid, and there are these older dudes you think you respect, spouting ideas, and you kind of listen," Brian says. "I developed a protect-your-own mentality."

He tried to explain that to his mother. The gang was a family, he said; it was a place to belong. "I told him, 'This is not who we are,'" Denise says. "'This is not who you are.'"

Megan was as heartbroken as her mother. "I thought [the tattoos] were horrible," she says. "I still think they're horrible. I could rationalize them: I understood that when he first got in there, he was searching for identity, trying to survive."

But the big brother she had worshipped? It felt like she had lost him.

As a young player on the U19 U.S. women's national team, Megan wore the No. 7 jersey. It was the number Brian wore when he played soccer.

BRIAN BECAME HEAVILY involved in gang life and racked up charges while doing time: possession of drugs, possession of a deadly weapon, three assaults on other white inmates. He spent eight of his 16 years in prison in solitary confinement for this behavior. By 2007 -- as he was turning 27 years old -- he was transferred to Pelican Bay State Prison in Northern California, the state's only super-max-security prison.

While general population is segregated, solitary confinement is not, and every inmate gets one hour out of his cell to walk the pod. Here, the protect-your-own thinking began to fall away for Brian. "You start relating to people beyond your hood, your area, your color," he says. "It doesn't take long before you start talking with each other, seeing how much you have in common. Back there, it's just you in the cell, and the man next to you is just a man himself."

There's no radio, no television in the individual cells in the hole. Sitting in a cement box, counting the number of holes in the perforated door is "hard; it's definitely hard," he says. "But you find a way to escape. You've got books, you've got writing, some guys draw. And you develop these relations with other people, these connections."

Three times a week, inmates also get three hours outside, albeit in his own cage. "In the yard, you start talking [to other guys] -- sports, music, my sister is always a big ice-breaking conversation. You say [to them], 'When we go back in from yard, you can look at my pictures,' or you say, 'Here's something I wrote.' Maybe you become good friends -- like me and Monster did."

Monster, also known as Sanyika Shakur, is a black nationalist and the author of the bestseller, Monster: Autobiography of an LA Gang Member. He and Brian were on the same pod for two years. Using a line and a weight, they'd send each other long letters from cell to cell, fishing for them beneath the doors. Brian shared the song lyrics he wrote; Monster let him read drafts of his articles and essays. For years, Brian had been a serious reader, consuming everything from the classics, to books about social issues. He'd read The New Jim Crow and learned about how police disproportionately search black men and arrest them for nonviolent drug offenses, and how the War on Drugs decimated communities of color.

"He taught me what it means to be racist," Brian says, "and he taught me what it means not to be racist."

By 2010, the now 30-year-old had a new understanding of what the white supremacist insignias represented. He had his face tattoos lasered off. The swastika on his palm became a spider web; the Nazi lightning bolts became skulls. He did not want any racial insignias on his skin. They did not reflect who he was. But he was still using heroin -- and the next year, he was arrested for selling it.

Brian was behind bars once again -- this time at Donovan State Prison in San Diego.

When Megan scored in the 2011 Women's World Cup against Colombia, she seized the moment and sang Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA" -- something, people say, Brian would do.

IN JUNE 2011, Brian had something new to talk about during his hour walking the pod: His little sister was playing in her first World Cup -- and he was going to get everybody to watch.

The 15-inch television was at the other end of the hallway, some 50 yards away. He built a tower out of 60 books and tied them together with torn sheets. Sitting on top of it, he could just see the TV through the window in the door. In an early game against Colombia, Megan roped in a goal, then immediately sprinted to the corner flag, grabbed a cameraman's mic and sang Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA." The guys got a kick out of this because Brian was the singer on the pod, and this flamboyant corner-flag serenade was so like him.

Days later, ahead of the quarterfinals against Brazil, all 30 cells on top and all 30 cells on bottom were watching, everybody perched at their doors. Megan -- young and audacious with her signature short blonde hair -- subbed in at the end of the game, and in extra time, sure enough -- boom! -- she sent a 50-yard cross-field ball to U.S. forward Abby Wambach, who headed it home to tie the game. "We were going wild," Brian says. "We were yelling and pounding on the doors."

Later that night, on the prison pay phone, Brian talked with his mom. She described the end of the game, how Megan, having just experienced the craziest, most awesome moment of her life, walked to the stands and stood there, searching through the some 20,000 faces for her mom's. Denise put her two index fingers in her mouth and let out her trademark whistle -- the same whistle she had used when they were kids. She had to do it a second and then a third time before Megan could hear her. Megan tapped her ear. "She was letting me know she heard me," Denise told Brian at the time, choking up -- which made Brian choke up a little, too. He could imagine it.

"Not being there -- it hurt," Brian says.

Another four years passed. This time he was in solitary confinement because of his violent record at the Vista Detention Facility, a lower-security prison, in San Diego County -- and Megan was headed to Canada for her second World Cup. The women would end up winning it all, the first time the team had done so since 1999.

"That was the hardest," Brian says. "I was super happy for Megs and super sad for myself. I fricking love my family so much. They were all there. It was like, f---, man, I'm like not really even a part of this. Yeah, I got a lot of support for her in prison, but when the game is over and the ruckus has died down, I'm sitting in my cell. I'm not there to give her a hug, I'm not there to witness it, I'm not there to be a part of it. It's just another thing in their lives that I'm missing out on. What the f--- am I doing with my life?"

Brian was almost 35 years old. He had spent more than half of his adult life incarcerated.

After Megan kneeled during the anthem in 2016, a former prisonmate called Brian to commend her actions. "What your sister is doing -- it means so much," said Sanyika Shakur, a black nationalist. "She is standing up for people who don't have a voice."

ON SEPT. 1, 2016, when San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the national anthem to protest police brutality and racial profiling, Brian was briefly out of prison -- although he was still using heroin. Three days later, Megan kneeled in support while playing for her club team, the Seattle Reign. Then, while playing for the U.S., she did it again.

Brian saved the newspaper article with the picture of her solemn, angled-down face. He watched the YouTube videos of the coverage. He thought, Hell yeah. He also read the comments: "If she was on my team, I'd knock this idiot out. She should be banned from the national squad for life. Such disrespect." He understood that she would anger people, understood the impending fallout. He knew that enrollment in her summer camps and sales of her clothing brand, Be Your Best You, would go down. He thought, My sister is brave; my sister is bad ass.

Like every time before, Brian's freedom proved to be short-lived. By July 2017, he was back up north in Pelican Bay. Back to the regimented, day-to-day prison routine. Where tomorrow is the same as today. His whole life had been a habitual rut; Megan's anthem protest felt like the opposite of that. Her stance showed him there is a way to put a foot down on something in life, in spite of the fallout that will come.

Not long after, he had a breakthrough. His cellmate was helping him inject heroin into the back of his neck when the needle broke. "I freaked out on him, really lost it," Brian says. "And he said to me, 'Look at how you are acting right now.'" And for whatever reason, those words torpedoed into Brian and transformed into personal questions he asked himself. Your whole happiness and peace of mind is focused on this dirty-ass hypodermic needle: Is this what you want? Do you want this cell and this bulls--- powerful persona to be all you are?

He thought about the seven murders he'd witnessed out on the yard. He thought about his own knife fights -- about everything he'd done and been a part of -- just so he could continue to do heroin. He thought about Megan. Look at all she's done with her life -- look at what you've done with yours.

That's when he finally decided he was ready for change. He enrolled in the new self-improvement and rehabilitation classes the California prison system had begun to offer. Each completed class reduced time from his sentence.

Most importantly, after using and selling drugs for 24 years, Brian quit -- and he's been clean for 18 months.

"If I do drugs," he says, "I will go back to prison. I didn't believe that for a long time. Now, I believe that -- I don't ever want to go back."

Shortly before his first day of school at San Diego Community College, Brian met up with a friend from Pelican Bay, Cesar, who is also taking classes. "From the Bay to the books," Brian says. "I am so stoked to begin."

TODAY IS BRIAN'S first day at San Diego City College. As part of the Male Community Reentry Program, he's taking classes to finish up the final year of his sentence, and he has some butterflies. "It's been a long time since I've gone to school -- even when I was in school, it was juvenile hall -- I've never taken anything except regular math. I've never even taken algebra.

Plus, he says, it's a little unnerving to sit in a classroom with 18-year-olds whose experiences have been drastically different from his own. He's self-conscious about his tattoos -- particularly his neck tattoo, SHASTA, inscribed in large gothic letters, the name of the county in which he grew up. "These tattoos, I freaking hate them," Brian says.

But he also knows those tattoos could matter again in the future. He wants to get involved in the juvenile delinquency program, wants to talk to anybody who might be about to jump off the same ledge he did. "These tattoos, it's gonna get their attention," he says. "It's like, dude, you don't think I know what I'm talking about?

"I want to make a difference," he says. "I want to be like Megan."

He had "a really fricking deep conversation" with her about two months ago. They talked about racial profiling; they talked about police brutality; they talked about what Megan's kneeling meant to both of them. Megan saw that in spite of their very different paths, they'd arrived at similar conclusions.

"My brother is special," Megan says. "He has so much to offer. It would be such a shame if he left this world with nothing but prison sentences behind him. To be able to have him out, and to play for him, and to have him healthy, with this different perspective that he has now: This is like the best thing ever."

While Megan is in France, she and Brian text daily -- with game thoughts, encouragement and shared excitement.

"This is one of the most exciting things I can even remember ... just everything really, you, the school, the program," Brian texts.

She replies: "People always ask me what got me into soccer ... your wild ass of course."

"Luckily I played a cool sport. What if I'd been into arm-wrestling or something."

"Oh lawd, yea you really set me up."

"Get some sleep -- love you."

"Lovee you Bri! Let's f---ing go!"

-- Freelance writer Gwendolyn Oxenham is the author of Under the Lights and in the Dark: Untold Stories of Women's Soccer.

#megan rapinoe #espn #uswnt #us women’s soccer #women’s world cup

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poorvioletdraws · 5 years ago

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Tom vs. The Underworld

*I decided to write a fanfic based specifically around Tom from SVTFOE and my oc, Raya as practice for a bigger project I want to do one day since I haven’t written any kind of story in years. It takes place mainly in the Underworld around season 4 and later post-Cleaved. This is the first chapter. Hope you like it and happy reading!

---

Chapter 1: Someday I Suppose

I had been passing the time in between deliveries for my eldest sister, Rochelle, by playing an old favorite of mine on my Sintendo 66 gaming console in the backroom of her feed and bait store. Being the youngest of seven from the infamous Stone Demon family, the Belmontes, I constantly had a lot of pressure on me to turn out just like my siblings whenever my last name was mentioned. All of my brothers wanted to be great builders like Dad. All of my sisters wanted to create magnificent swords and weaponry just like Mom. Then there was me. I wasn’t very good at building or creating anything really. Except when it came to music.

Music was always a passion of mine to forget about the normalcy of my reality, and having a game like “The Legend of Lilith: Fiddle of Time” to consume myself with really highlighted that vehement urge for escape. I often times would play the many medleys and songs for hours on my saxophone after such sessions. My family and friends knew this ritual of mine all too well and would admonish that I can get lost in the music and forget reality if I’m not careful, though I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my day honestly.

It wasn’t until the third time of Rochelle’s abrupt entry--swinging the door open and shaking the room with her shouting--that I had to tear away from my fantasy and get started on that invoice in order to not incite her wrath any further. I idly examined the statement and retrieved each item, all the while as my older sister berated my slothlike behavior and questioned aloud why I even decided to help out at her store knowing my history of “slackerdom”. The address was a recurring one whose proprietor always paid in advance so this would be a quick delivery. They also preferred to be left anonymous yet they religiously requested the delivery of the same bulk products every few weeks--Hydraworms, Tears of the Harpy, Leviathan Leeches, spool of Acromantula web, skeleton horse hay and grass (not to be confused with flesh horse hay and grass), and a few boxes of “Underworld’s Best Bunny Pellets” just to name a few on the list. I knew it all like the basic fingerings of my sax.

As soon as I packed the last of the order into my Golem--the only thing I created with my elemental abilities that was actually exceptional according to my Dad--I was off and heading out to Lava Lake. My eagerness of getting back to my game and becoming further engrossed in a fantasy of excitement gradually subsided as I gazed across the bubbling body of lava. There were demons swiftly surfing across the molten rock waves of the beach while others were challenging each other to an intense game of Skull Ball. A group of Monster tourists were fishing off the Dock of Unending Torment at the same time another group was setting sail on their ghost ship rental. Small demon children were joyfully building sand coffins and burying each other in the dark gray grainy substance, their laughter becoming an accompaniment with the rest of the enjoyment on the beach. Although playing games and creating music were fun hobbies of mine, it was seeing crowds of people having fun themselves and getting lost in their excitement that was something else I would never get tired of. Everyone seemed to be so happy as they relished in the atmosphere. And witnessing such happiness made me happy for them as well.

This part of the beach was the busiest; a prime location for my sister’s shop. Our mom suggested she learn how to run a smaller business before taking on the huge responsibility that is the family trade, and like the obedient daughter she is, my sister followed through without hesitation. Plus, Rochelle was able to practice forging smaller items like fishing knives and hooks when she wasn’t spending her free time bossing me around. She would rush me if I couldn’t ring a customer up fast enough and belittle me when I accidentally spilled something (multiple things) and didn’t clean it up right away--which is why she has tasked me with deliveries. I can’t destroy the shop if I’m not in the shop, I guess. And it was only one time where I accidentally let loose that swarm of piranhaflies in the store; in my defense, I didn’t know you sell the whole container of the creature to a customer instead of just one individually.

I know she assumes I purposefully don’t work at my full potential, but I really am trying to. I may be slow and clumsy, but I genuinely want to do the best I can to help my sister achieve her goal, even if my own hasn’t really been figured out yet. I like observing her work. She knows how to answer every question a customer has and can find the best solution to their problem. I like how she includes me in things that interest her too. She shows me the best bait to use to catch a Flaming Crococricket and how to break open the shell of an Ember Berry to use the juice for medicinal purposes. But most of all, I like seeing how happy helping others makes her feel. Sometimes, while we are sitting out on the beach together and watching the waves calm at the end of the day, I glance over and admire the contentment of Rochelle. She is truly happy with her existence and extends that aspect towards others, something I secretly yearn for. She inspires me to be that kind of beacon in someone else’s life one day. But with my reputation of being a “lazy” and “procrastinating” demon lacking the expertise to carry on the Belmonte name, I highly doubt such a day would come anytime soon.

Being lost in my train of thought, I didn’t realize that dark maroon and coal black clouds were forming overhead. And then without warning, a thunderous boom filled the sky, shocking me as I clutched onto my Golem. The wind began to shoot passed me furiously and the clouds burst open, spitting down violent flames as the red waves crashed wildly on the barren land.

“Where’d this storm come from all of a sudden!” I shouted to myself, jumping from my Golem and placing my hand on its base. It began breaking down from its previous walking form and into a makeshift stone shelter. Now covered from the onslaught of the fiery squall, I looked around at my surroundings.

I had already wandered into the secluded area of the beach where the crowd had vanished from sight. This was definitely part of my usual route but the storm was definitely not. Fire really couldn’t harm me with my skin being partly covered with stone and all, but I was wearing my favorite outfit today and didn’t want it getting singed. I guess I’ll wait it out.

I thought how mad my sister will be, knowing I’ve taken longer than I needed to. She probably thinks I am messing around this very minute. How was I to know a flash firestorm was going to occur? I then began to think of my friends back home in Chernabog City, the largest demon metropolis in the heart of Prickly Plains. The six of us would be hanging out at the arcade right around this time, maybe deciding if we wanted to go do karaoke before or after we ate at our favorite burger place, Grimdonald’s. We also formed a band together. Even though we are amateurs, we have a lot of fun just playing together regardless if we don’t always sound good. We don’t have a singer yet however. I haven’t had much time to hang out with my friends or look for a singer now that I help out my sister. She had told me that this busy season will be slowing down soon, which will be a pretty good thing. Not that I’m complaining, but I would like to focus more on our music we had been creating together lately.

All of a sudden and as quickly as it started, the storm died down, leaving no trace of its presence at all. A bright rainbow shown through in its place off the horizon. I looked around quickly for a sign of familiarity. Off to the far side of my Golem structure, there was a wooden post near some large rocks that read “Private Property”. I gave a sigh of relief, knowing I was almost to my destination. I transformed my Golem back into its riding form and continued on. Aside from the bipolarity of the weather, it had been just another typical day in the Underworld. Instances such as that one do not happen out of the ordinary too often. Guess that was my bit of excitement for the day. Or so I thought.

A spacious beach-side home--not too extravagant but still containing the right amount of grotesque appeal demons like--was positioned comfortably near the lake of fire, separating the rocky terrain from the burning abyss before it. A large cone shaped tower with a beaming eye atop it sat adjacent to the home. Having stopped by the carport where a blue vehicle was parked, I hopped off my Golem and retrieved the boxes to be delivered from its carriage. Carrying so many in one trip wouldn’t be too hard of a task for me, though if my sister were present she would comment how I’m just being too lazy to want to make multiple trips. I staggered over to the door with the mountain of goods and was able to extend one of my fingers just enough to press the doorbell without dropping the load. I turned to the side so my head wasn’t blocked by the packages and could greet the usual patron that came to answer.

However, instead of being greeted by the high pitch voice of the little red winged demon that would confirm the address and flap away with the order just as fast as he came to the door, a teenage demon boy with pale lilac skin and salmon-colored hair answered it.

“Hey.” he said calmly.

Still taken aback by the fresh face, I mumbled, “Um… Uh--Hi. delivery for this address from Styx & Stones.”

The demon boy looked puzzled at first but when I mentioned the name of the store he quickly caught on and said, “Oh yea, my Dad placed the order not too long ago. For the Lucitors, right?”

“Well… it always comes in as Anony—Wait, Lucitor?” I uttered the last name again.

“Yeeea…?” he shrugged coolly..

“As in THE Lucitors?!” I gasped alarmingly.

“Uh huh, yep.” he repeated his affirmation without hesitation.

“As in KING and QUEEN Lucitor!” I blurted out, my eyes were probably as wide as saucers at this point.

“Yea, well, they are my parents so…” He chuckled a bit as he averted his eyes to the side and itched at his cheek.

“Eh! So you’re Prince Lucitor?!” I squealed, feeling an overwhelming rush of anxiety take over me.

“Uh, you can just call me—“

“I’m so sorry for my rudeness!” My body began to tremble and my voice was shaking as I panicked, “P-Please forgive me, Your Highness!” I instantly hung my head down, my red hair falling in my face. But because I had hastily bowed to the demon prince, I did not realize I had dropped the entire order to the ground in the process. My hands clutched at the sides of my face in horror. “Ah! I dropped all of your stuff, I’m so sorry!” I fell on my knees and started to frantically collect the pile of items around me. “Sorry for my incompetence, I’ll make sure you don’t get charged if anything is messed up! I’m so very sorry, Your Highness sir!”

“Uhh..” he couldn’t find his words; probably because he is too busy considering various ways to discipline me for my insolence, no doubt. Even worse, he will probably go get King and Queen Lucitor and tell them what I have done!

I bent down even further, slamming my forehead to the floor with my knees in my chest. If it weren’t for me being a Stone Demon, such an action would knock out anybody else. Although, I do wish I were unconscious right now instead of feeling like such an idiot in the presence of our prince. I wish I could just bury myself in the sand and disappear. Now it made sense why the order was always left anonymous. The royal Lucitor family owns this home! How could I have spoken to royalty--our prince of the Underworld--in such a casual tone. Once my family finds out about how I have shamed them, I’ll be banished, I’m sure! Just the thought of such impending ostracization had me sweating bullets and my yellow eyes filling with tears. I needed to find redemption with him somehow.

So, while still being extremely embarrassed, I was able to meekly cry out, “I didn’t know your family was staying here, I deserve whatever punishment you see fit for my blatant disrespect, Your Highness!”

Silence.

I didn’t dare look up from the ground but when I saw the shadow of his hand raise, I knew it was coming. I held my breath as my own hands clenched at the floor beneath me and my body stiffened in anticipation of his chosen judgement. But instead of a rage-filled strike, my shoulder was met with his touch in a comforting way. I slowly brought my head up to look in his direction, casting my hair to the side and finally out of my face.

He gave a half-smile, “Ok, look. I know I’ve been a bit of a… of a jerk before in the past with my subjects--and believe me, I get how some of you may still think of me as this angry, spoiled guy--but I have changed SO much now. And thanks to a lot of people close to me, I am working on my temper so I can be a better prince for the future of the Underworld.”

Still nervous, I murmured, “Your Highness, n-no… I wasn’t calling you a--”

“And all that Your Highness stuff, psshh, you can just call me Tom. It is my name after all.” He removed his hand from my shoulder and began reaching for a box.

I began to worry again, “No, Your Highness, please, you shouldn’t do that, it’s my fault you--”

“Hyuh!” He called out as he shot his hand upward. In an instant, all of the items in disarray on the floor suddenly floated in the air. He motioned his hand towards his front door and everything that had been levitating proceeded to quickly fly inside his beach house.

I was at a loss for words. His telekinetic ability was amazing, but I didn’t expect less of a feat from such a high-born child whose family rules over the Underworld.

“Well, there we go.” He turned back in my direction with his hands on his hips and all three of his red eyes now fixed on me. “So, you uh, going to get off of the ground, or something?”

I jumped to my feet, feeling some of the debilitating anxiety slowly release its hold on me. I tried to calm myself but my words still came out in a panic, “I-I-I-m so sorry you had to do that, Your High--”

“Hey, I told you. You can call me Tom, all my friends do.” he gave a genuine smile.

My mouth was slightly agape but I didn’t really care how I looked right now. I was still in awe of being able to stand in front of one of the Lucitors of the Underworld. I clutched my hands together tightly to my chest, something I always tend to do when I am unsure how to read the situation. I have never met anyone of royalty before, let alone seen anyone of such stature before either. How I imagined the prince to be was not the same person I am seeing before me. My friends and I thought of him and his family to be the most despicable and aggressive of creatures, ready to obliterate any one of us lesser demons who even dare cough in the same room as them. This demon boy was nothing like that. He wasn’t terrifying or vile. He looked just like us. He dressed like us. He smiled. And not in a deceptive way. An actual sincere smile. Looking into his eyes and observing that smiling face, I felt my guard beginning to slip a little. I was about to muster up enough courage to reply to him when--

“Tom! Your Dad got the board drawn for Sand Darts and you’re up first, handsome!” a cheery and youthful female voice called from inside the home.

“Oh ho, It’s on! Coming, Star!” The demon prince turned away and was about to close the door behind him when he paused. He glanced back at me and said, “Oh, I never got your name.”

I began to blush nervously as I stared at my feet. I took a breath and was able to mumble out, “Uhm.. It’s… Raya… Your Hi--Uhm... Prince Tom…”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Raya. Well, see-ya around. Heh heh.” He pointed his hand at me like a finger gun and winked all in one motion before shutting the door behind him, getting a laugh at his play on words with my name.

And just like that, I was alone again. I don’t remember how long I stood there staring at the now closed door, or when I finally returned to my Golem to take the trek back to my sister’s store. I never really felt like this before. Everything seemed so unreal and as if my head was in a haze. I can’t believe I met the prince of the Underworld. He wasn’t what I expected at all, which was kind of a good thing really. He was very welcoming, kind of dorky, and, most importantly, he was happy. Just like my sister, Rochelle. He has the kind of happiness in him that is unbreakable. Which is to be expected, being a prince and all.

Coming from royalty, his life must have always been easy and perfect; with a future decided for him, he probably doesn’t have a care in the world. His royal parents must really love him and that female voice, a princess girlfriend perhaps, loves him too. He probably can have anything he could ever want and do whatever he wanted to. His reality is that of a most coveted fantasy by many. But, despite all that, his happiness is still pure and the kind I admire. The kind I wouldn’t mind being around more in hopes of taking in some of that for myself, if that were even possible. Random encounters such as this don’t happen everyday. How many of us common demon folk even get to say we met Prince Lucitor? … Prince Tom… His friends call him Tom… I wonder what it's like being friends with someone like him…

Secretly I hope one day I’ll know. Someday, I suppose...

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#svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #fanfic #tom lucitor #oc #starvstheforcesofevil #oc fanfiction #the underworld #TomVSTheUnderworldFanfic #TVTU

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