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eunahfmdarchive · 4 years ago

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painting - partial lyrics + partial composition credit. date: early january 2020 / may 2020. word count: 834, excluding lyrics. mentions of eunah’s ex from last year. also, i almost forgot but there’s a reference to the climb in here, yeehaw. ALSO CW: some minor allusions to eunah’s eating and body image issues, and some discussion of sex ( totally non-explicit ). so sorry, i am very tired and forgot to say this in my haste to post.

she should still be enjoying mezzanine and its title track’s success, and a successfully wrapped set of promotions, but eunah can’t. instead, she listens back to the mini-album and feels bittersweet about it already, cringing as she hears the cheery notes of i’m not in love with you’s intro play. the title and the lyrics were supposed to be tongue in cheek, poking fun at their slowness to admit their feelings to one another. now, the title is just simple fact. she’s not in love with him. that’s fine, the feeling is mutual.

still, she can’t get him off her mind. eunah wonders why she didn’t dedicate this much time to thinking about him when they were together. is she too cold? is it because of her hyper focus on her album? is it because of her body? anything but that. she’d like to believe all the sweet things he said were true. that’s how she wants to remember their time together.

eunah’s no artist, but she still doodles something that looks a little bit like him in the margins of her notebook.

at a misty dawn i paint you the clouds that i painted with a brush make me remember you i paint you again ... the moonlight is coming in i open my eyes and quietly be with you again

‘painting’ sounds nicer than ‘drawing’, as far as she’s concerned. the scenes she imagines, the memories she conjures up when she recalls their time together look better as paintings too. eunah imagines them moving through life animated like they’re in loving vincent.

when you call my name when you stroke my hair the memories of you and me i’m falling down i can’t tell you, please love me come to me and hug me yes, i’m afraid there’s no one here

her thoughts and feelings look so dramatic written down, almost erring on the silly side once she’s read them over a couple of times. eunah sniffs back a tear, shutting her eyes tight for a second before leaning back on her window sill perch and laughing. she wonders, does she really care this much about this guy? about this relationship that couldn’t make it through one promotional cycle? that obviously means that they ended for the best, right?

or does this mean something more? would any relationship be able to withstand her busy schedule? eunah’s had her fair share of lovers, more than she thought she would. ( the total is three. ) but either it’s never gone past the stage of purely physical and friendly motivations or the earliest stages of real feelings. even this had only lasted a couple of months.

eunah figures she’s probably a dime a dozen. it wouldn’t take long for a guy to find a girl like her who isn’t so busy, or who isn’t so sad. a girl like her, except she’s more willing to put out. that’s okay too. eunah wishes she could be a bit more like that girl, wherever she is, and a little less like the sad sack sitting with her head against the windowpane.

when you call my name when you stroke my hair the promises between you and me i’m falling down i can’t tell you, please love me come to me and hug me yes, i’m common i’m just a common girl

discouraged in spite of her recent emotional progress, it’s months before eunah revisits the song. she’s not so cut up anymore, and has her sights set on someone else. she cringes at how raw she’d apparently been back in january, but she sees potential in the pages nonetheless. she’s been thinking lately, how she’d like to write something simple that’s still an ear worm, something that builds upon itself as it goes. sitting at her piano, eunah fiddles around with the words of the lyrics for a handful of hours so that they line up better with the melody she’s trying to create, until the syllables fall perfectly into place. by the time her phone alerts her to say that it’s three in the morning so she should get her ass in bed, for once, eunah can say with no doubt in her heart that she is quite pleased with herself.

it’s comforting to think that even her worst experiences can turn into something useful. eunah never expected for her road to recovery to be an easy one, and she always knew there would be setbacks, but to come out of one mostly unscathed feels better than she’d expected. there’s no mountain she wouldn’t climb now, not like before when she shied away. it doesn’t matter how fast she gets there, or what’s on the other side. she can only assume there’d always be another mountain. isn’t that how life goes?

eunah smiles as she drifts off to sleep, satisfied and proud. not just because of the song.

the next day, while her good mood is still leading the way, eunah finishes the melody for what she thinks will be the chorus of a song. she enjoys playing around with it, using her and lux’s home studio to record herself singing it a few different ways. softer, more like a whisper. then, powerful, belting out the woes within. they’re not her own worries anymore, and singing them doesn’t hurt her at all. like she’s rehearsing for a musical, eunah gets into character for her final recording take.

she’s a girl, looking out at the snow on a winter night, and she’s afraid she’s unlovable, maybe even cursed.

and when the recording is over, eunah is a girl wheeling back and forth in an office chair, smiling to herself as she anticipates a good summer.

#tldr: eunah ): but then eunah (:#fmdverification #also i'm gonna get back to emssages asap LOL i just wanna focus on these verifications!!!#sorry i promise i'm not intentionally ignoring everyoneee ily #* / 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ⇨ self para !#eating disorder implied tw

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 5 years ago

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Chapter Fourteen:

The One Where The Incredibly Deadly Viper Attacks

“Now, Baudelaire bambini, I am about to show you one of the most important scientific collections in the history of the world.” Uncle Monty began as he walked them down a small hall between the two staircases. Klaus marveled at the fact that both walls were covered with filled books cases from floor to ceiling. Klaus reached out the hand that wasn’t holding Sunny to touch the spines of some of the books they were passing. Part of him was surprised that they were real. After seeing his and Sunny’s bedroom, he had sworn that he was dreaming. Never did he think Dr. Montgomery would be this sweet or this prepared to be the guardian of the two young children. “Now, spies and rivals in the world of herpetology would eat nine garter snakes to get a simple glimpse of the wonders inside this room. This door has been installed with a top-of-the-line security system.” Uncle Monty began toying the door. Klaus and Sunny both watched him curiously, beyond fascinated by him and what would be beyond the door. “You can’t get inside unless you have nineteen keys, three combinations, two fingerprints, and one optical scan. Or, as I share with my most trusted associates…” He gave a quick smile towards the children, “by turning this doorknob right here.” He gestured for Klaus and Sunny to open the door. Both children looked at one another and together they opened the door of the reptile room.

Both children could hear insects chirping, frogs and toads croaking, lizards chittering. They could even hear a faint ‘woe is me’ as they went in. “This is the reptile room,” Monty said with complete and utter excitement. “Feel free to explore.” Both Klaus and Sunny gasped in astonishment and delight at the room before them. The reptile was made entirely out of glass, with bright, clear glass walls and a high glass ceiling that rose up to a point like the inside of a cathedral. Outside the walls was a bright green field of grass and shrubs which was of course perfectly visible through the transparent walls, so standing inside of the Reptile Room was like being inside and outside at the same time. Both children could also see that in Dr. Montgomery’s backyard was comprised of an enormous maze, which intrigued both children even more. As the Baudelaire orphans walked slowly inside the Reptile Room glancing around at all the cages and exhibits that Monty had on display, they peered left and right, they looked in front of them and behind them. They didn’t know where to look, their interest was piqued. Both children saw that locked metal cages sat on a wooden table in four neat rows down the room. They saw all sorts of snakes, lizards, toads, and assorted other animals that the children had never seen before, not even in pictures within books that Klaus had read. There was a very fat toad with two wings coming out of its back, and a two-headed lizard that had bright yellow stripes upon its belly. There was a snake that had three mouths, one on top of the other and another snake that seemed to have no mouth at all. There was a lizard that looked like an owl, with wide eyes that gazed at them, and a toad that looked just like a church, complete with stained-glass eyes.

“Do you children know anything about snakes...or reptiles, for that matter?” Monty asked as he caught up to the children.

“Only what I’ve read in books,” Klaus replied. “But even then...I wouldn’t say it’s very much.”

“Ah! Well, I may have one or two things here that aren’t in any books.” Monty replied cheerfully. He took the children down a random row.

“Look, Sunny! There’s the two-headed cobra!” Klaus said excitedly.

“Well spotted, my dear boy!” Monty replied as Sunny looked at the cobra with a smile.

“Is it a he or a she?” Klaus asked peering at it through its glass cage closely, while still holding Sunny.

Monty frowned, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I didn’t think it’d be polite to ask.”

He gestured for the children to follow him to another display, a few cages down. “Now, over here, the Tibetan Third Eye Toad.” He said showing the children a toad that was brown but had three blood-red eyes.

He ushered the children around a bend of tables to take a closer look at the winged lizard that they were looking at earlier. “Now, this is the winged lizard. Do you see his yellow-striped belly? A sign of camouflage and cowardice.”

“Lem,” Sunny shrieked as she watched Monty pick up the lizard.

“Can it really fly?” Klaus asked remembering something he had read about it within books.

Monty nodded, “Not only can he fly, Klaus. But he can fly on cue.” He said as he practically tossed the lizard in the air. Both Baudelaires watched in amazement as the lizard’s wings sprouted and it flew across the room.

“Fly!” Sunny gasped clapping her tiny hands. Monty walked to the other side of the reptile room gesturing for the children to continue following him.

“And here we have the dissonant tortoises, soothed by the music of Alexander Scriabin or early Sonic Youth.”

He gestured for the two Baudelaires to walk around again. The children noticed a large cage that had a white cloth on top of it, they couldn’t see what was inside. They continued to walk down aisles of cages, peering into each one in amazed silence. Some of the creatures looked friendly, some looked scary, but they all looked fascinating. And with every reptile that he could recognize from books, Klaus would give Sunny a small detail of what he remembered from his reading. After about ten minutes of letting the children explore, Monty gestured for the children to meet him in front of the large cage with the white cloth over it.

“Now, this, my dears, is my most recent discovery,” Monty said excitedly. “The crown jewel of the Montgomery Reptile collection. I discovered him on a recent journey and I brought him under cover of night and a very large hat. Because next month, I am going to present him to the Herpetological Society as my new discovery.” He ripped off the white cloth.

Both Baudelaire orphans glanced inside the wide cage that had its own snake exhibit on the inside of it. Filled with rocks, stones, plants, and even small trees. But they couldn’t see any snakes or any other reptile. Klaus and Sunny looked curiously at Dr. Montgomery, who turned them. “You see I discovered him, soI got to name him.”

“What’s it called?” Klaus asked curiously still looking around the habitat looking for any form of life inside of the cage.

Monty turned to the children and gave a devious smile. “TheIncredibly Deadly Viper.”

In that very moment, as if it understood its name a large, black snake, as dark as coal mine and as thick as sewer pipe appeared and gave a quick glance at the Baudelaire children with its eerie, shiny green eyes and in the next moment, the snake launched itself at the children, effectively opening its cage and bit the younger Baudelaire orphan on the chin. Klaus screamed so loud as this happened while Dr. Montgomery merely stood still laughing at Klaus’ frightened scream.

“Do something!” Klaus yelled. “Get the snake! The snake!” he turned to Dr. Montgomery who was still laughing. Klaus looked at the man with pure sadness and anger. “ What are you doing!? Get the snake! You let a deadly snake bite my sister!” Klaus could feel tears forming in his eyes as he held his sister closer to him not caring that the pressure was hurting his chest. “ I knew we couldn’t trust you! I knew we couldn’t trust him, Sunny!”

Klaus looked from Sunny to Dr. Montgomery. “ Why the fuck are you laughing!? Sunny just got bit by the Incredibly Deadly Viper!”

Monty didn’t say anything just pointed to the snake and Sunny. Klaus looked down at his baby sister, who was giggling and playing happily with the snake. “She’s….she’s…” he said wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I am...terribly sorry, children. Terribly sorry, Klaus.” Monty said still laughing. “Don’t you worry about the little one, she’s alright. The incredibly deadly viper couldn’t possibly harm you.”

Monty said grabbing the snake as it playfully hissed towards Sunny.

“ The Incredibly Deadly Viper couldn’t have possibly harmed her?” Klaus asked trying to calm down. He looked to his sister again who looked up at him smiling and even laughing at his dismay. He could feel his heart beating in his chest.

“Nope. The Incredibly Deadly Viper is one of the friendliest and least dangerous animals in the entire animal kingdom. Sunny will come to no harm and neither will you.”

Klaus looked to the laughing man angrily. “But it’s called the incredibly deadly viper.”

“Yes. It’s a misnomer.” Monty replied. “Do you know what that means?”

“‘A very wrong name’?” Klaus asked.

“Well, a very fitting definition,” Monty said smiling.

“But why would you give your own discovery the wrong name?”

“You see, Baudelaires. Because I discovered it, I got to name it, remember? Don’t tell anyone about the Incredibly Deadly Viper because I am going to present it to the Herpetological Society and give them a good scare before explaining that the snake is completely harmless! All those years of ridicule. “Hello hello, Montgomery Montgomery”, ‘How do you do? How do you do? Montgomery Montgomery’, ‘How are you? How are you? Montgomery Montgomery’. But at this year’s conference, I am going to pretend that it’s escaped. Oooh, to watch all of my fellow herpetologists jump onto chairs and tables and scream in fear, kind of like you did Klaus.” He began laughing again as Sunny joined in. Klaus’ face turned bright pink.

“I don’t usually scream like a little girl...I thought my sister was dying.” He muttered still bright pink.

“Ah. I can’t wait to see their reactions. Wouldn’t it be hilarious? Maybe I’ll take you two with me so you can see, too.” Monty said.

Both children nodded. They both did believe that Monty’s joke was funny, although Klaus didn’t think it was funny for Monty to allow him to believe that Sunny was done for. Especially so soon after dealing with Olaf’s bitch ass. But he did find the prank to be funny. He looked around curiously, a bit on edge now.

“Monty?” he asked. “Are there any snakes in this room that aredangerous?”

Monty chuckled. “Klaus, did you know snakes are more afraid ofyou than you are of them?”

Klaus looked at Monty. “Really…?”

“Oh yes, when threatened a snake will retreat to a place that is quiet and safe...remote. ...a sanctuary. Where it can feel out of danger.” Monty said looking at the two children as they began to frown. “But to answer your initial question, Klaus, of course, there are dangerous reptiles in this room. You can’t study snakes and not find some that are dangerous. I have an entire cabinet full of venom samples from some of the most venomous snakes known to man.”

“Femina!” Sunny shrieked, which probably meant, “And woman..” which Klaus was happy to translate for Dr. Montgomery.

Monty smiled down at the infant, “Yes, ... and woman. ” He led the children to the end of the Reptile Room where Klaus’ face got ecstatic. “Which leads me to the heart of the operation. Now, bambini, this is the most important part of the Reptile Room: my scientific library. The deepest secrets of the snake world can be found in these pages.” He looked first to Klaus and then Sunny. “And I hope that you’ll find them?”

Klaus gave a low chuckle. “So we’re allowed to read all these books?”

“You are not only allowed, you are implored to read each and every one of these books, young Klaus!”

Monty knelt so that he was face to face with Klaus and Sunny, which made Klaus flinch and close his eyes for a moment. Monty frowned but waited until Klaus was looking at him. “You know...I’ve always wanted a family of my own.” He said sadly, sighing. “But time flies like a winged lizard. Now I know that a few dangerous reptiles can make you skeptical of the entire species. But, if you give them a chance and you get to know them well enough to tell the dangerous from the good. I promise you no harm will come to you in the Reptile Room.” He said as he gently placed a hand on Klaus’ injured shoulder making the boy wince silently.

Monty just stayed quiet the next few moments, allowing his words to sink in. Sunny smiled and nodded at Monty but Klaus didn’t say or do anything. He kept registering Monty’s words about how some dangerous reptiles can make you skeptical of the whole species. He had a feeling when Monty said that he wasn’t only talking about reptiles or snakes, but he was also referring to human beings. He had a feeling Monty was telling him that just because they had encountered the wickedness of Count Olaf that they shouldn’t live their lives in a sick feeling of mistrust and fear about any other adult that comes into their lives. That in time the children will learn to pick out the bad from the good. Klaus knew deep down that Monty was right. That everyone deserved a fair chance, or maybe not everyone. But Monty, himself, deserved a fair chance. He knew Monty wasn’t dumb, he knew that Klaus was judging him comparatively to Count Olaf but Klaus couldn’t help it. What he and Sunny just endured from the wicked Count made Klaus very hesitant. Klaus had good feelings about Monty but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was going to go wrong...or that something, already, wasn’t right. As Monty grabbed the winged lizard that had landed on his desk and placed him gently on Klaus’ shoulder, he smiled at the young boy. Klaus gave a small smile back. He didn’t want to be rude to Monty, it wasn’t his fault that Klaus’ trust in guardians or adults, in general, had plummeted during the last week or so.

“I promise you, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire no harm will come to you in the Reptile Room.” He said again in a softer voice.

Now, I won’t say that Dr. Montgomery’s words to the two Baudelaire orphans were incorrect, for, in a way, they were correct. No harm would come to either Baudelaire orphan in the Reptile Room. But this situation does reek with dramatic irony, which I am sure you know is when someone makes a remark, and someone who hears it knows something, which can make the remark have a different, usually unpleasant meaning. So I do, beg of you to look away now so you don’t have to learn about why Monty’s promise to the children reeks with the unpleasant arrival of dramatic irony. I will say this though, Monty was right. Later on, in the children’s adventures, they will learn how to tell a noble person from a wicked one, but they never truly master that skill. I will say that Klaus had every right to trust his instincts that although Monty seemed perfectly fine, things were not okay. I hate to inform you that the lives of Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire would not be okay for a very, very long time.

The rest of the day was amazing. Monty showed Klaus and Sunny around the Reptile Room, showing them each and every reptile on display. Explaining to them which ones were the dangerous ones and which ones were perfectly friendly and safe. He allowed Klaus to take a few of his books upstairs so that Klaus could read them as the day wore on. He explained to the children about how some of his reptiles didn’t live in cages and to not be alarmed by the broken-hearted crocodile, in which Sunny nicknamed “Lemony”, which was one of the ones that he rarely ever had in its cage. Monty showed them the rest of the house and cooked them a nice hot meal, even listening to a few of Sunny’s suggestions when it came to spices and herbs. Klaus spent part of the afternoon in the reptile room. He had set the book he was reading on a very large tortoise and he laughed when the tortoise began to walk away effectively stealing his book. Monty had allowed Klaus and Sunny to take a few of the smaller, harmless snakes out of their cages and the two Baudelaires allowed the snakes to slither around their bodies as if they were trees. Monty even allowed Ink out of its cage so that he could play with Sunny. He even allowed Sunny to give him a nickname, which he began to use as well. Both Baudelaire children had not felt this happy in the days after the fire and they were both slowly starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could move on from the unfortunate events that plagued them at Olaf’s house. When it was time for bed, Monty tucked both children into bed. He bid them both a good night and went back down to the Reptile Room to continue his own research.

Nighttime wasn’t a good time for Klaus Baudelaire. When he was asleep, he didn’t feel as safe as he had when he was living in the Baudelaire mansion. Klaus was tossing and turning frantically in his bed, whimpering and flailing his arms. He hit his hand on the nightstand waking up Sunny. Sunny stood up in her crib and looked at her sleeping brother with worry in her eyes. His eyes were scrunched, he was whispering something that she couldn’t quite hear. She tried to read his lips to figure out what he was saying but he was flailing too much.

“Klaus!” Sunny said in a loud whisper reaching out of her crib to try to touch Klaus but it was no use, her crib was too far from his bed. “Klaus!” she said again.

Klaus didn’t answer. His eyes were still closed but he was saying something. Sunny tried to read his lips. She could tell it was one word over and over again. Stop? No, maybe he was saying Help!Sunny looked around her crib grabbing her pillow and tried to toss it at her brother to wake him up but to no avail. She completely missed. “Klaus!” she yelled no longer caring if she were to scare Dr. Montgomery. “ Klaus!” she wailed.

Klaus’ movements began to get a whole lot worse. His legs were kicking in the air and his arms were covering his chest. In the moonlight that came in from the window, she could see tears falling from her brother’s eyes. She was terrified. Whatever he was dreaming was not only scaring him, but it was hurting him. She started to hit her little fists against the wall of the room that her crib was next to. Either she was going to make enough noise to wake Klaus up or to get Monty’s attention.

“Stop…” Klaus murmured in his sleep. “Please...stop.”

“Klaus!” Sunny yelled again.

“...no...please...stop.”

She began to wail. Tears were now streaming down her face. She couldn’t help her brother. She was defenseless and stuck in her crib while something was hurting her brother in his dreams. Sunny thought dreams were supposed to be fun, safe, and even silly. That’s how her dreams were.

“... please...stop…” Klaus murmured again in his sleep. Sunny noticed his breathing was getting heavy and he was guarding his chest with his arm. “ ...I was only trying to save her…”

Sunny’s eyes got wide as she was sure she heard him correctly. “Klaus…” she yelled. Now anger in her voice, the bastard did hurt him! Her heart hurt when she realized that he got hurt trying to rescue her.

“ I’m...I’m sorry...stop!” Klaus started yelling instead of murmuring his words now. Sunny’s eyes got wide as Klaus started to scream and yell the words ‘Help!’ ‘Stop!’ and ‘I’m sorry!’.

Monty rushed in just as Klaus shot up within his bed, his eyes wide, his breathing uneven and rigid. Klaus looked around to see a concerned Monty and frightened Sunny. He quickly realized that he was having a nightmare. “Sorry…” he whispered to both Dr. Montgomery and Sunny. “I’m...I’m fine.”

“Ponoch!” Sunny yelled, which meant, “You fucking liar, you’re not fine!”

“Sunny, I am fine!” he yelled back at her annoyed.

She just glared at him from the crib. Klaus averted his eyes from his baby sister to their guardian. “I promise...I’m fine.” He said to Monty. Monty just frowned.

“Klaus…”

“I’m fine!” he yelled.

“Klaus...why don’t you and I have a cup of tea. It could help you sleep better.” Monty suggested.

“No, thank you. I am fine!”

Monty kept calm. “Klaus...come on. A quick cup of tea.”

Klaus frowned. His breathing finally getting back to normal. “I don’t…”

Monty put a hand up to signal Klaus to stop arguing. “A quick cup of tea.” he insisted.

Klaus grumbled but reluctantly got out of bed. “I am telling you, I’m fine,” he mumbled as he headed towards the kitchen.

Monty gave a small smile to Sunny, whose eyes were heavy. “Sunny, I promise...your brother will be fine. I’m just going to have a chit chat with him.”

She nodded. “Benepat.” she replied, which meant, “Good luck.” Although she doubted that Dr. Montgomery could understand her without Klaus to translate but none the less, she gave him a thumbs up and laid back to try to go back to sleep. She was more trusting of Monty than Klaus was and didn’t think her brother was in any real danger. She knew that the only one hurting Klaus right now was himself and his egregious denial.

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paladin-andric · 6 years ago

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Story Request: The Swords of Justice

Requested by @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword as part of the story giveaway! I was asked for a Wurie story, and here it is! This tale follows Wurie during his stint as the commander of his very own mercenary company, The Silver Swords. A bit of a classic hero’s adventure in a bite-sized package!

“I just don’t know what to do!”

A man sat sobbing, hunched over a desk as he blubbered his woes to the person across.

The man was a farmer, wearing course, brown clothes and cheap shoes, a messy, dirty beard on his tearstained face. His nose was beet red, and his face was burning as he broke down.

“T-they’re gonna kill her! They gonna kill Sarah! They’re gonna kill my baby!” he looked back up, eyes boring into the one sitting across from him. “P-please...the guards can’t do anything! They won’t-”

“Stop.”

The firm, yet calm voice of the other snapped the man out of his rambling. Spit was running down his chin, but he couldn’t care anymore. He shook his head and leaned forward.

“Please…”

“Jonathan.”

Once again, the voice was quite calm. The figure across from the man was one of the Dacuni, the wolfmen of the north. They were tribal raiders that invaded the lands of the humans, and all others, for loot and spoils. They were killers. They were barbarians. They were little more than animals.

And yet...Wurie was anything but those things. In truth, he was the complete opposite. The young wolf had started as a caravan guard, before founding a mercenary group. The Silver Swords, they were called. They were known for their exceptional track record, of never quitting a job and always pulling through. They were known for their heroism as well, seeking out battle against evil and rescuing the good and weak. Above all, however, they were known for Wurie.

Even the wolfmen that assimilated into Geralthin were wild, in a way. No matter how hard they tried, it took only a minor slight to send them into a furious rage. They got into brawls and ended up locked in jail cells, with few exceptions.

Wurie was one of those exceptions.

His calm, almost placid nature, soft-spoken attitude, and control over his emotions left him as quite the oddity. When people first met the leader of the Silver Swords, the cool, collected commander of a disciplined mercenary company, they were shocked to find that leader was a wolfman, moreso that he lived up to his reputation.

He was gray all over, and wore a suit of chainmail, an arming sword on his hip. His sharp, blue eyes pierced the man across the table from him.

“Don’t worry. The Silver Swords are on the case.”

The human’s eyes widened. “R-really?”

The commander nodded. “Of course. We’ll deal with the vagabonds.”

A few days ago, a letter had appeared at the door to the farmer’s house. A note demanding all he had for his daughter, who had not returned from playing in the fields. The town guard had been notified, but the kidnappers knew what they were doing. They failed to track the culprits, their whereabouts unknown.

Wurie and The Silver Swords would pick up the torch.

“A-are you sure? I...I can’t...I’d have given them everything I had, if...I actually had anything.” Tears streamed down his face. “I can’t pay you.”

Wurie’s expression softened. “Hey...don’t worry about that, now.”

“But-”

“We may be mercenaries, but some things are about more than the pay. I’m going to run it by the others...I’m sure they’ll understand.” The wolfman leaned forward and put a hand on the man’s own. “Jonathan...this one’s on us, alright?”

The farmer broke down again, head hitting the table as he sobbed loudly.

“Y-you’re a saint...a saint!”

…

The sounds of cheering, laughing and loud boasts could be heard clearly through the walls to the coaching house. Above that, the sounds of music were quite clear as well. A flute, lutes, shakers, drums...the standard affair for the more upscale bars and inns. Generally they hired minstrels, though the cheaper pubs might have some music and entertainment if they were lucky enough to have a bard staying the night.

As Wurie pushed open the door and entered, the muffled voices and music became very loud and crystal clear. He was stepping into a joyous place of drink and revelry. The Fairen Hall was doing good business. Providing drink, food, fun, beds and transportation for adventurers and mercenaries in these parts made them a killing.

Wurie approached a table full of familiar faces. A man and a woman, a koutu, and a reptilian. The lizard began to turn, laughing with a mug of ale in her clawed hands.

“Ah, come! Come join the revelry, good-” her eyes widened as she saw him. Her manners quickly changed and she cleared her throat, a hint of worry on her face. “A-ah, captain! Sir!”

“Afternoon. Ladies. Gentlemen.” his eyes swept across the table, everyone now quite and watching him carefully.

The wolfman threw down several pieces of parchment onto the table among the ale and empty plates. The ransom note, and several notes written by Wurie during the investigation.

“We’ve got ourselves quite the mission on our hands, folks. A little girl went missing, and her parents received this ransom letter. They’ve got nothing to give the ransomers, and the guards can’t track them...so the family’s turned to us.”

The crew quickly grabbed notes, reading them and swapping with the others as they familiarized themselves with the investigation. Wurie gestured towards the reptilian. “Kazima. You’re the greatest tracker I’ve ever known. If anyone can find these horrid animals, it’s you.”

The reptilian smirked, crossing her arms and adjusting her bandana. “Sir...I’ll have them in no time.”

The koutu frowned. “Err...sir? If the family has nothing to give...how are we getting paid?”

“We’re not.”

All eyes rose to stare him. Wurie sighed.

“It’s the right thing to do. I...I can’t let a bunch of kidnappers, and possible childkillers, free to roam these lands. Folks...I know it’s been a while since the last paycheck. If you’re not willing to work for free...I’ll take a cut from my purse to cover lunch and lodging for all of you for the next few days.” His gaze softened, and he gave the crew a small smile. “What do you say?”

These was a short pause as everyone’s eyes darted back and forth, unsure of what to say. Wurie was concerned that no one would give him a straight answer.

Kazima answered by tossing her coin purse onto the table with a loud thump, gold pieces jingling inside.

“Sir...I’ve always said The Silver Swords are more than just a bunch of mercenaries. I wouldn’t have stayed if it was just about the coin. You remember what I said, about my days in the Drakefangs. For the first time since my journey in these lands, I feel like I’ve finally found a purpose, a reason to fight besides making it to the next meal. Captain Wurie...keep your coins. I am a Silver Sword. I follow you, not the scent of gold.”

“Here, here!” the man said with a grin, “Man’s gotta eat, but I’m doing fine. As long as we find a job after, I can let this one slide. Besides...I’d like to give those kidnappers a piece of my mind.”

The koutu also placed his coin purse on the table, giving Wurie a nod. “We are in this together, yes?”

The woman finally shrugged, robes swaying as she did so. “I hardly have a choice, do I? I’m on board, captain.”

The wolfman’s smile grew wider, his eyes misty. “Ah, hell, you folks...very well. Together, than.”

Kazima raised a mug to the air. “To The Silver Swords!”

Everyone else at the table rose a mug and shouted in unison. “TO THE SILVER SWORDS!”

The drinks flowed freely, in those moments.

…

Wurie frowned as he snapped another branch in his way, tossing it to the ground.

The group had been on the hunt since morning. They had started the day before upon agreeing to the mission, and set up camp once the sun had set.

At first, no one knew what they were doing, or where they were going...but then Kazima signaled for them to stop. The lizard crouched down and ran her fingers across the soft dirt, eyes narrowed.

“Someone’s been through here,” she said quietly.

Calum tilted his head, the koutu shouldering his bow as he stared at the ground as well. “Err...how can you tell? I don’t see anything…”

“The smell of old leather,” the reptilian answered softly, “Indents, just barely there. The signs of life, of people. Beings of man have journeyed here very recently.”

Wurie nodded. “Impressive, Kazima. Your senses are truly invaluable.”

Daniel chimed in, the human clutching onto the straps of the massive bag on his back. “So can you tell where they went?”

The lizard hopped forward, still crouched and hunched over, hands on the ground. Her eyes were near slits as she examined the ground. The reptilians senses were on overdrive as she began to hop from one patch of dirt to the other, combing through the area.

With no answer coming from her as she began to hop and crawl further and further away, Daniel shrugged. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Calum began to move forward. “Better follow her, than.”

The lizard’s tongue flicked about as she made steady progress, scanning the forest and following the trail only she could see. The others followed behind her, sure to give her a wide berth, as not to muck-up whatever prints and scents she was after.

“She’s like a bloodhound,” Alissa noted, the human keeping a hand on the sword on her belt.

“She is exemplary,” Wurie answered simply.

This went on for several more hours, until at last something changed. The trail Kazima was following became something...greater.

“Look. Can you see?”

Wurie crouched down beside the lizard and examined the ground.

“It’s...bootprints,” the wolf noted.

“That’s right,” she agreed, “We’re close.”

“Can’t stop now…” Calum mumbled, moving ahead, bow at the ready. Everyone began to follow the trail now, not merely following Kazima. The group was moving quickly now, able to easily follow the plainly visible tracks.

After some more time on the prowl, they stumbled onto a sight that assured them they had found their mark.

A small, ramshackle cottage. The boot tracks led straight to the door. This was it.

“We’re fortunate there was rain the other day,” Kazima whispered, “Or the soil might not have been soft enough.”

Wurie crouched down behind a large tree, still keeping concealed in the thick of the forest.

“Okay, people,” the wolfman said quietly, “This must be it. These forests are dangerous. Only the guilty would make their home here. Prepare yourselves.”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Daniel asked, setting his pack down.

“There’s nothing for it but a good old fashioned storming. Get in there and overrun them before they have the chance to set up a proper defense against us. Kazima, Daniel, I want you with me. Calum, keep back and cover us. Alissa, watch his back.”

“Got it!” Daniel whispered.

“Covering,” Calum answered, readying an arrow.

“Yes captain,” Kazima spoke with a nod, drawing her scimitar.

Wurie glared at the cottage. He’d have liked to have the whole damn company storm this place, but several of them were all on different missions across the land. For now, it was just him and these few. Not that he was complaining. Daniel’s magic had been consistently helpful. Kazima’s hunting prowess was always needed. Calum was a deadly shot, and Alissa was a rugged warrior. All valuable teammates.

“Okay, on my mark. And...go!”

The group rose and broke into a sprint. They left their cover, becoming easily visible as they ran up to the cottage.

Wurie was up front. As he reached the cottage, he threw himself into the door with all his might. He could hear the snapping and popping of broken wood as the thing flew open under his weight.

The warrior rushed inside, the rest of his team flooding in after him. They were in a small room with a table, some chairs...and several men. Each of them were dressed in rugged leathers fit for wanderers, and had varying types of weapons close at hand. As they looked up and saw what was happening, the strangers sprung into action, grabbing their weapons and preparing for a fight.

“Where is she?!” Wurie roared, only to be met with a man leaping over the table at him. Before he could even react, an arrow flew past him and hit the man square in the neck, his leap turning into a collapse. The wolfman turned and glared at the rest of the brigands.

“Last chance,” the captain offered, teeth bared and sword raised.

“Get them!” someone shouted, driving the vagabonds to charge the group.

One of the men swung at Kazima, only to have his sword be caught be her own and thrown to the side. She quickly spun and sliced through his neck, sending him to the floor. She leapt over the table and threw herself into the rest of the group, Calum shooting one of them in the meantime.

Alissa slammed her shield into one of the attackers who seemed intent on getting the archer, while Daniel poured frost out onto one of the others.

Another man went for Wurie, who rolled out of the way of a wild mace swing. He managed to slice the man’s leg, but the brigand had a chance to back up as Wurie got back to his feet.

The stranger swung at Wurie, who ducked and retaliated with a swing of his own. The man jumped back at the swing, getting out of the way just in time.

Another swing, though this time it played out differently. The mace swung down and at an angle, allowing the captain to catch it with his sword and push it even further to the side, making it lose all impact. While the attacker reeled from the parry, Wurie swung again, tearing through the man’s shoulder with brutal strength.

The stranger screamed and spun around from the force of the attack. Wurie played no games, and shoved his sword through the man’s back, sending him collapsing in a heap soon after.

The wolf took a moment to look around after that. As he did so, he noticed one of the men running into another room, further in the cottage.

Wurie knew what that meant. He couldn’t let that happen.

The captain rushed after him, barrelling through the room and into the next. As he looked around in the dark room, he saw the man slip into yet another room. He bolted after him, hearing a scream that only urged him to move with greater urgency.

Kicking his way through the door, Wurie came to a sudden stop as he saw what he feared most.

The man was standing facing him, holding the girl the captain had come for...with a sword at her throat.

“Drop the weapon!” Wurie ordered, snarling at the villain.

“Not a chance,” a rough voice called back. With a mask over his mouth, only the glint in his eyes gave away his foul intentions. “Surrender, or your friend here has a nasty accident.”

The girl was whimpering, tears in her eyes as she looked down at the blade pressed against her throat.

Wurie growled. “If anything happens to her...I’ll make sure you go through the worst suffering imaginable. You know what they do to childkillers in the jailhouse?”

“You’ll never take me alive,” the man said back, eyes narrowing. “Last chance before this gets messy.”

The wolfman grinded his teeth in fury as he glared at the man, hate filling him. “You…”

Before he could finish, something interrupted him. The man suddenly dropped the sword and the child, screaming and grabbing at his head. As the girl ran off, Wurie looked back and noticed Daniel holding out a hand, magic pulsing from it. Some sort of mental attack, probably.

He didn’t waste another second. The captain rushed the reeling man and slammed him into the wall, hands wrapped around his throat.

“It’s over!” Wurie said with a growl. The man merely stared back at him.

“Fine. Go on. Do it.”

Wurie let out a chuckled and shook his head. “You’re not getting out of this that easy. No, you’re going away for a long time, villain.”

“Bastard,” the man grumbled in response.

Soon enough, the others came in, watching the exchange with interest.

“You okay, captain?” Daniel probed.

“Just fine. What happened out there?”

“Everyone’s taken care of,” Calum said with a nod.

“The girl. Did you see where she went?”

Wurie’s only answer were shaking heads. He sighed and pulled the man to Kazima.

“Can you handle him? I’m sure the guard will have plenty of questions for him.”

The lizard laughed cruelly. “Certainly...come here, you. You’re staying with me.”

Though he struggled, the kidnapper could do nothing as the reptilian took out rope and began binding his arms. Wurie, in the meantime, began searching for the girl.

After a quick search, he realized where she had gone.

A single dresser sat in the side room, doors shut. Wurie had seen it as he rushed after the man. It was open before. He approached slowly, and spoke lowly.

“Hello? It’s safe, you can come out now.”

No answer.

“Sarah, right?”

That did it. After a moment, the doors slowly opened, just a crack. He could see an eye peering out at him. He crouched down and spoke gently.

“My name is Wurie. Your father sent me to find you. Are you ready to come out, now?”

“Father?” a timid voice croaked back.

“That’s right, Sarah. I’m here to bring you home.”

The doors opened fully, the small girl staring at him with some hesitation.

“W-who are…?”

Wurie glanced over his shoulder to see the rest of the crew watching. He turned back and nodded.

“Those are my friends, Sarah. They helped me find you.”

She looked back at him again, still seeming hesitant.

Wurie slowly extended a hand to her, smiling. “You can trust me. I promise. Your father misses you.”

Finally, she accepted. The girl grabbed his hand and held on. “O-okay, Wurie.”

He nodded and stood up. “Time to go home.”

The trip back was far quicker than the trek there. Without needing to constantly sniff out and search for tracks, the group simply walked back through the forest.

The captive struggled and kicked occasionally, but after Kazima flashed her razor sharp teeth and began whispering threats, his resistance ceased.

As they went on, Wurie noticed the girl was shivering and sniveling. At first he assumed she was recovering from the horrors of her captivity, but when he looked down and saw her face he realized it was something else.

Her face growing red. Her breath growing ragged. The heat radiating off of her.

She must have caught a flu of some kind.

The sun was starting to set when they finally escaped the forest, reaching the farm once more.

A man and a woman were sitting by the door, looking crestfallen until they heard the group approaching. Their heads shot up, eyes widening as their gaze fell onto the group.

Wurie recognized the man as Jonathan.

Sarah quickly rushed ahead, trying to pull herself from Wurie’s grip. He let go immediately, watching her run to meet her parents, who were now up and running as well.

“Sarah!” the woman cried, dropping to the ground as the girl jumped into her arms.

“Oh God, Sarah!” Jonathan yells, dropping to meet them as well. The three of the embraced, crying as they reveled in one another’s presence.

Wurie watched them for a while. A grin on his face.

There were times when he doubted himself, when he wondered if what he was doing was truly worth it.

Not now, though. In these moments, he understood...THIS was why he’d become a mercenary. THIS was what it was all about.

The wolfman stepped ahead of the rest of his group, nodding at Jonathan as he turned and looked at the captain.

“W-Wurie…I...I can never-”

“Don’t worry about it,” the captain answered, “I noticed your daughter’s not looking so good. Being holded up in a dirty prison room might be the cause. Could be nothing, could be something serious.”

Wurie reached into his coin purse and pulled out a couple pieces of gold, carefully sliding them into Jonathan’s hand.

“Get her some medicine, won’t you?”

“W-what…?” the farmer looked down in sheer disbelief at the gold pieces, shaking his head wildly. “N-no, no, you can’t! Take your money, I can’t accept it!”

Wurie grinned like a loon as he turned and marched away from the farmer, still insisting he couldn’t accept such a gift. Wurie paid him no mind as he walked back to the rest of the Silver Swords, nodding and crossing his arms.

“Let’s move out, folks...we got a guest the guards’ll want to be seeing.”

Kazima grinned and yanked the rope binding the prisoner, the others joining her and Wurie on the march back to town.

As Wurie looked up and saw the vibrant hues of pink and blue in the sky, the final hours of day fading into night, he reflected on everything that had just happened. This entire expedition had cut into their savings, to be certain...but that was alright.

Some things are more important than a paycheck.

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @reya-writes, @candy687

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savlistenstomusic-blog · 6 years ago

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BROCKHAMPTON and Uncomplexity: Breakdown of “TOKYO”

Simplicity is complexity. It’s counterintuitive, I know. We’re constantly under the misconception that a slew of complex noises, beats, and sounds composes a “good” song. Many of us find ‘simple’ tunes to be boring and attention is easily lost on them. Yet I find myself repeating thirty seconds of one track only because of it’s simplicity.

“TOKYO” by BROCKHAMPTON (AMERICA’s #1 BOYBAND) is admittedly my favorite song on the planet. Not because I like the whole track, but for honestly a mere half a minute of it. This is the kind of track where you listen to one part and have it on repeat for only that part. Not that I think the rest of the song is bad, but because it just doesn’t compare to the epic intro. The 2017 track from SATURATION III by the alternative pop-rap boyband’s has a two part intro, but I will be focusing solely on the first thirty seconds. Constantly referred to as anime-intro esque, or drawing inspiration from Nujabes (Japanese music producer)-- it’s a loaded thirty seconds.

BROCKHAMPTON in their hook to this track, inspired by American rapper Trick Daddy, successfully combines classic instruments to buildup their hook, utilizing vocals as instrumental leading the beat.

youtube

On first listen, you might say to me, “Savannah, come on. It’s not that cool. Chill.” But take a second listen. There is no lead into the song, the first note heard is a strong strum from an electric base guitar. Clean and precise, the note cuts through the temporary silence of switching tracks, causing a second of surprise and anxious anticipation. Milliseconds after, JOBA intervenes with the first line of the intro:

Too many things I’d rather do different

… punctuated by the same deep A note from earlier, followed by a quick lead into a base-y lower note (E) that is quickly cut off with no reverberation leading abruptly into the next few words:

Woke up in a cold sweat

The clear illusion to JOBA’s anxiety, this line is punctuated by a quick “AAH!” BROCKHAMPTON utilized a yelp, or more so scream, as extra instrumental in the best way to convey his discomfort.

My emotions creepin’, three o’clock on the weekend might as well sleep in

“Weekend” is accompanied by more electric bass and slowly builds tension with a tight driven 1, 1, 2 beat of a deep E, E, then back to higher octave A note.

The hook musical development starts to make itself known.

Stay down for the count when, she hit me with the “what-ifs?” and the “what-whens?” and the “What-thens?”

The complexity of the beat starts to build. JOBA, using his high pitched (almost Michael Jackson-y) voice, accentuates the sparse yet powerful solo base, building suspense. Here, we can hear the beginnings of the last forms of the hook’s beat. The line above is almost unnoticeably interrupted by a single deep angular note at “count”. “She hit me with the “what-ifs?” is accompanied by another E-A matching. This time, E leads into A in an almost “twang” – by the help of the whammy bar (the coolest part of instrumental anatomy).

Wonder where my life went, living in the moment

We add a new line here. Two counts of deep E, followed by a higher pitched A, and ending with a short clean E again. The high pitched vocals that describe a reflection of life’s anxieties is built on by a developing simple background beat. Although not completely developed, we can tell both the story depicted by the words and music is about to come to a peak.

I been thinking ‘bout my time spent, are the bills paid? Is it make or break? Will I find a way? Are my feelings changed? Will I be okay?

As soon as the word “moment” from the previous lyric ends, JOBA’s voice gets even higher. As an almost larger foreboding anxious buildup, his pure unease literally makes his voice an octave higher. Accompanied by this vocal pitch change, we hear the beginnings of the end of the instrumental development with the addition of a quick paced snare, like a clock ticking away indicating time is running out. Through this line, they add the previous background variations of notes A and E with an abrupt, succinct, and continuing claps in 5 count increments: accentuating his list of worries and woes. You can also recognize the yelp from earlier after he asks himself “are the bills paid?” Yes, JOBA, scary indeed.

I don’t know. But what I do know is, life don’t make sense If you can’t pay rent, so I place my bet...

This final line is the final beat product. The buildup of musical anxiety is finally released upon hearing it’s comprehensive completion and hasty and unanticipated end signaled by one strong triangle chime.

JOBA’s restlessness in his vocals are almost directive of the beat. As he continues to question his life choices and further ruminates the music takes on an anxious life of it’s own. His uncertainty is clear in his word choice, but also in the tentative development of the thirty second hook. In this way BROCKHAMPTON successively uses wordy vocals as an additional instrument: the composer of the song. Pitch variations followed by simple base work and a snowballing addition of other sounds and noises pulls together this hook. Probably the dope-est hook of all time, BROCKHAMPTON shows us their musical genius again by utilizing voice as a real instrumental tool rather than just another layer to pile on.

Give SATURATION II a listen. With a wide range of genres of instrumentals, there is a track here for everybody. Find yours.

(In case you have no idea the difference between an A and E note, which I didn’t either, here is a good video to get your notes straight.)

#brockhampton #tokyo #joba #saturation ii #how it sounds #music dissection #music review

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gathering-storm · 6 years ago

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Unseen Savior (drabble)

There he sat, legs dangling off the edge of a seldom used bridge. The pain in his eyes resonated with the icy chill of the crystal waters below, hair matted from lack of care.....he had to reason to care anymore, all effort seemed pointless. ‘guess no one found my note....or no one cares’ he thought to himself whilst giving one last glance around to see if he was wrong, to check if someone had come to show him the love and compassion he craved. His final words to his family and friends had been lain out the night before upon a single piece of lined notebook paper in his finest handwriting, each word carefully chosen to tell of his grief and his desires for forgiveness in a way that would emphasize his lack of will to continue without seeming as a cry for aid....the time to help had long come and gone. With a gulp of trepidation he stood, shaky limbs coursing with adrenaline as he peered at the rushing water below “just one step...then its over” he mumbled, lips tasting the cold of this early winter morn, images of his life flashing in his tattered mind. Every abuse, every bit of bigotry directed towards him, every mention of his depression being “just a phase” weighing on him like an entire world resting upon the tired shoulders of his soul, pushing him onward to the only solution capable of ending the agony once and for all. “this is best”, he whispered raising his right foot, set to step over the edge and embrace eternity....the white-capped water looked so welcoming, so inviting, so....soft....a torrential hug from nature before the reaper took him, “farewell...” he finished, his breath coming as steam in front of him as though his soul had already started to leave him. His forefoot fell, his weight beginning to tip over the edge....his eyes closing in anticipation for the impact soon to come. ‘3...2....1′ he mentally counted only to realize he was not falling a moment later, a weight on his shoulder was keeping him in place...a hand perhaps? ‘no’, he pondered sorrowfully in sheer doubt, ‘I must just be hesitant without realizing it’ he considered, unknowingly doing so out loud “no, it is not your hesitation which halts you”, a warm, raspy voice responded as the weight, the hand, became heavier, pulling the forlorn man from the edge gradually, “’tis a friend.” This voice jolted his eyes open, his head turning toward the source rapidly, portals to a broken heart running with tears upon seeing the gentle face looking to him. Long silver hair draped the head of this stranger, their cheeks rounded but strong, chin square yet soft. Their skin bore the wrinkles of age, lines accrued over years meshed with some semblance of remaining youth “please, I beg of you, reconsider”, spake this self paradoxical male, “you have much to live for, even if ‘tis not readily obvious.” he encouraged with careful precision, each word emphasized in the way a doting father might speak to a injured youth. “I doubt that....”, came the downtrodden man’s response, the bitterness in his voice nearly as biting as the air itself, a voice without hope is often so, “if I have so much to keep going for, why can’t I see it?” he asked with no expectation of an answer beyond the ever generic vein of ‘you don’t trust ______ deity enough’ or some other such patronizing condescension. “you are seeing life through the eyes of a wounded fighter blind to all else but the pain consuming you”, the other explained softly whilst pressing subtly on his shoulder, gradually motioning for him to sit only to take a position beside him behind the bridge’s railing, “I can see in your eyes a spirit injured by judgement, hatred, anger and perceived abandonment”, he continued looking deep into their hazel orbs, the brown overtaking its green companion, “you feel each injustice as a dagger to your heart, blade digging in as if driven by the hand of an unseen tormentor....” “And this helps me how?” he questioned, shocked by this entity’s insight, his expression and vocal tone showing the surprise. “all you’ve done is psychoanalyze me..” he added once more looking over the edge, gaze focused on every ripple and hard wave below “to solve any problem, one must first acknowledge and be willing to face it”, his companion answered directing, with a finger on his chin, his gaze back onto him, “think not of the crashing waters as your release, picture instead they are an abstract representation of your inner turmoil”, he instructed before standing, free hand still on the shoulder of this man he sought to save, “turn your gaze further downstream, on the other side of this bridge”, he coached, motioning to a bend in the water where the icy depths slowed to a peaceful stream, vicious foam replaced with a gentle trickle courtesy of a gated dam sitting mostly closed, “though at first sight where the coursing is at its most violent the river may seem unruly, unrestrained, where there is aid it calms to a gentle brook.” “yeah, that’s the problem, no one ever tried to help me...” the younger male replied watching the calmer flow, starting to in some measure understand the metaphor presented him, “I was always fed that line of it being temporary, about it just being a phase....I’ve struggled with this most of my life...” “I will not lie to you, I cannot promise should you rescind your desire for death this day you shall be cured, that all the pain will depart like a storm wafted away by a gentle breeze”, the softer man replied, the method in his words sincere, stalwart and unshaking ,yet filled with subdued emotion and brimming with honest compassion, “there will be times in the days, the months, the years to come when this doubt shall return in force, the same drive may again consume you...but I implore you to look past the darker voices plaguing your thoughts and to focus instead upon where the water is peaceful...there is always something to strive for, be it great or small.” His honesty caught the wounded man off guard, expecting only some placating reply instead of such a point-blank answer “like what?” he asked choking back the tide of feelings threatening to bubble forth. “The kiss of a warm morning’s breeze caressing your face as you wake, the chorus of birds singing their lovely songs like a choir from heaven, the refreshing splash of water upon your skin as you enter a shower set to the temperature you prefer and the scents of your favorite bodywash”, he replied with a lyrical cheer to him, “your favored music played only for you from within your devices, the innocent charm of a feline’s or canine’s face looking to you for attention, hope for a love that shall surely come or one which has, your career or the one you hope to have”, he listed, each one carefully considered before being spoken, “these are but some of the things often overlooked which give reason to even the most downtrodden of lives, embrace them as one would a treasured stuffed animal or close friend, let their warmth chase the chill from you.” With each example listed the sensations accompanying them briefly flowed through this suicidal man, every one bringing alongside it a measure of comfort as the message sunk in, burrowing past the doubt, past the pain. Unable to restrain himself further, he embraced his savior, arms cinching tightly around him while he burrowed his face into their chest, soaking their sparrow-tailed suit in the wet emblems of his troubles “yes, let all your woes flow unto me, may the weight be relieved you”, they encouraged, a gentle hand upon his head stroking his black hair in smooth soft lines from back to front, “focus on my words and the beating of my heart, the rhythm calming the storm within you.” “why...why do you care so much?” the now whimpering man questioned between strangling knots in his throat, looking up to the face of this mysterious stranger “you deserve not death, you deserve not judgement, you deserve....compassion and tender care”, came the response as a soft kiss was placed upon his forehead, “‘tis my duty, my honor to aid those such as yourself who need a shoulder upon which to cry or a figure to see them into brighter days.” “who are you?” the man asked, managing to stifle himself, his thoughts no longer on an end and instead on the future given him with his refusal to give up “Amaru is the name I prefer”, the caring entity answered with a smile, “as to the nature of my existence, it is as I have done.”. He stood, motioning for the other do so as well only to embrace him the moment they were both to their feet before retreating, leaving only his hands upon their shoulders “should you ever require my presence again, merely speak my name...”, he advised, tone trembling somewhat, hinting at a soon farewell, “there are others in need, thus for now, this must be goodbye.” With those last words, Amaru vanished, his warming presence lingering for the rest of the day, wherever the one whose life he had saved traveled, an ethereal hug constantly around him as a reminder of both whom he had met and what he had overcome.

#attempted suicide tw

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colonel-crapshot · 7 years ago

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Oreshura Episodes One through to Four

just picked up Oreshura

This is gonna be a trip

... I sense bad things

*alarms flare* I SENSE ADVANCED FUCKERY

JESUS FUCK IT'S SUCH ADVANCED FUCKERY THAT IT NOT ONLY ACHIEVES THE GOAL OF ALLEVIATING THE GENKI GIRLS WOES BUT ALLOWS THE THOT TO MESS WITH HER

I AM ACTUALLY AMAZED. Both at how stupid this genki girl is and at how artful this fuckery has become

It's beautiful fear if I watch for too long I may lose my neck as it furrows into my shoulders with the cringe

The Jojo references in this are thick, like they were slathered on with a spade

...JESUS FUCK THIS IS ACTUALLY PANNING OUT

Okay this is actually getting a bit funny now

AND THE CRINGE RETURNS

GOODBYE NECKYOU WERE A TREASURED PARTNER

WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU DOING WOMAN, YOU CAN'T JUST DORA DORA DORA YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS. YOU AIN'T NO JOSUKE

... what the fuck am I watching

What IS Oreshura?

Friend: werid japanese bullshit Colonel

There is no defence. That is exactly what this is

But with Jojo references lathered on by the spade

I've had this stupid second hand embarrassed grin stuck on my face for like 5 minutes now

The mistress shovelling Jojo references upon this series is pure fucking evil

This poor motherfucker

There is no mercy for this lad

Man this guy had some serious Chuunibyou

That notebook is so cringeworthy I'm amazed he still has a neck, let alone me

O_O

HE'S LOST THE PLOT

This lady is actually evil

I don't think I could take it with the sound...BUT I MUST.FOR ENDURING THIS WILL NOT ONLY FURROW MY NECK INWARDS BUT ALLOW ME TO GROW?

Evil incarnate is far too into this

The musics gone all fucky too

Jesus this is sad

Okay. The sunglasses "Power scouter" got me a bit

The music is dying with me

How has nobody had the heart to shut her up?

...Oh. That was actually a rather heartwarming reaction

This is nice

GOOD, FEEL IT BURN RIGHT TO YOUR EVIL SOUL WOMAN. THE SCRIPT YOU POURED THAT VILE MOULDY GRASS SMOOTHIE "JUICE" YOU CALL A SOUL INTO WAS CALLED A SKIT. HA!

This Chiwa chick has got guts, I like that

Enough guts to go along with a plan she HAS to know is written by someone fucking with her

This girls ability to blag is outstanding, if nothing else

THE GENKI GIRL BROKE

DIO, HOW DO WE FIX A BROKEN GENKI GIRL?DO WE FEED IT SNACKS?DO WE DO THE SAD SUSHI ROLL TACTIC?

WHERE IS THE ARCHBISHOP OF ANIMEBURY WHEN I NEED HIM?

TEARS HAVE HAPPENED

HOLY FUCK NUGGETS, HONESTY IN A HAREM ANIME?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT HAPPENED? YOU DINGUS?! THAT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN MORE STRAIGHTFORWARD IF IT WAS A LETTER CARRIED BY THE FUCKING STAND ARROW IMPALING YOU WHICH THEN PRODUCED A STAND WHOSE ONLY ABILITY WAS TO BEAT YOU WITH A SHITTING SIGN SAYING THAT CERTAIN GIRLS LIKE YOU WHEN THEY SAY THEY LIKE YOU

... Well it's no fucking wonder she actually likes him like that

I respect, if nothing else, this shows dedication to depictions of romance

As is true for most women of pure evil, the san andress fault can be recreated utilising only chest implements

...Excuse me. I have a reality to bend to smack a thot

DAMN FUCKING RIGHT YOU'RE A BITCH WOMAN

I WILL SMACK THE BITCH RIGHT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU

'PPARENTLY I DON'T NEED TO, YOU FUCKING GO EITA

*waves a flag with Eita's name on it*

SLAP THE BITCH WITH WORDS, NOT HANDS

MAKE HER FEEL IT IN THAT RANK ASS SMOOTHIE SHIT SOUL OF HERS

YOU WERE SO CLOSE TO BEING HUMAN

IT WAS ALMOST CUTE, THEN YOU WENT FULL FUCKIN' ICE QUEEN

Damn, Eita's eyes have gone all fucky and he got a set of crayon armour drawn around him... HE'S LOST IT AGAIN

WE'VE GOT A CHUUNI! CHUUNI ALERT

*puts on Chuuni scouter* WHAT! IT'S...IT'S JUST A FUCKING PLASTIC DBZ SCOUTER I BOUGHT OFF EBAY, I CAN'T SEE SOMEONES CHUUNI LEVEL! BUT IT MUST BE SUPER FUCKING HIGH BECAUSE I FEEL MY NECK GIVING UP ITS WILL TO LIVE

I CAN FEEL HOW CHUUNI HE IS IN MY OWN WITHERED EGGPLANT SOUL

Why do I put myself through this?

Okay, you really need to turn off the Chuuni bro. You won, the dickheads are leaving. So go back to "doesn't care about love med student wannabe" Eita

OH SHIT HE TACKLED A DUDE

DAMN SON.SHE MAY BE LIKE 4 FEET TALL BUT SHE'S FUCKING THESE CUNTS UP WITH A CONE CONNECTING WARNING TAPE AFFAIR

Yeah, who is this "she". Or is this another part of your Chuuni fantasy

GOOD. THE LITTLE BITCH NEEDS TO LEARN, LOVE IS A MULTIFACETED AND WONDERFUL THING AND IT COMES IN ALL SORTS OF WONDERFUL FLAVOURS

Heck, Eita could do with his own little lesson on it

Okay. So she wasn't just reeling from the shock of seeing one of the infinite facets of love, she was just seeing what it'd be like to skive. Least she admits she's evil though

AM I SURE THIS IS JUST THE FOURTH EPISODE? FUCKING HELL LOTSA SHIT SEEMS TO BE HAPPENING

OF COURSE IT WOULD BE FOR THE JOJO REFERENCE. WHY WOULD IT NOT? !IT'S NOT LIKE A FIRST KISS IS A RELATIONSHIP MILESTONE OR ANYTHING! GOTTA GET THAT SICK JOJO REF GOING!

Don't get me wrong, I love me that "Kono Dio da!" scene. It's beautiful and OH so memeable. BUT BUTTER MY SPRING GREENS AND MAKE ME A SANDWICH IF YOU AREN'T STRETCHING IT

WHY WOULD HE WASH HIS MOUTH OUT WITH DIRTY WATER?! You two are SUPPOSED to be DATING

YES I KNOW IT'S A FAKE REALTIONSHIP, BUT YOUR DESIRE FOR FAITHFULNESS TO THE REFERENCE IS GETTING OUT OF HAND HERE NATSUKAWA

WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HIS BATHROOM CHIWA

You live next door! YOU HAVE NO REASON TO BE USING HIS FACILITIES!

WHO THE FUCK READS E-MAI- *processing that Japanese phones refer to texts and such as E-mail*

OKAY YOU GET OFF THE HOOK A BIT. BUT HANG A FUCKING SIGN OR AT LEAST SEND A FOLLOW UP WITH "Hey Ei-kun, in your FUCKING SHOWER right now because me baths broken. Knock on your door when I'm done."

THAT'S A PRETTY LONG STANDING FAVOUR FOR NOT READING A SINGLE FUCKING MAIL. But I suppose it isn't the worst favour in the world, not like Eita's going out of his way to walk to school with her every day

THE FUCK IS SHE DOING HERE?! Chiwa I understand to a degree. BUT YOU HAVE NO GOOD FUCKING REASON TO BE HERE NATSUKAWA AND DON'T YOU "Iyaa~ Ecchi!" ME YOUNG LADY

HOW DID YOU MISS BOTH OF THESE MAILS EITA?

*snrk* "I don't care if another stand user comes in. Don't you move."

I LOVE THESE SICK JOJO REFS

You know, for someone who thinks themselves a sharp cookie, you're not so bright are ya Miss Summerriver? (Natsukawa)

"I just saved all mankind."

Eita, you're alright. We could be friends, more so if you couldn't just don crayon armour and take chuuni to eleven and even further beyond.

Welcome to Haremville Eita my boy. It's a lot like hell, but less brimstone more charcoal bento boxes and in your case Jojo refs.

This is the end, others won’t be so long, I was convinced to do this midway through episode four when this had the previous hour or two to build into this monolith. The promised context link: Oreshura Episode 1

#oreshura #anime #reaction #Colonel-Crapshot

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imperialsea-a · 7 years ago

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LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE.

name: Elizabeth Eva Alexandria (Fujioka-) Cross

eye color: Emerald Green

hair style/color: Too long-- reaching to her thighs when left loose. Straight and sunlit/golden blonde, always combed through carefully and neatly. No bangs, they just annoy her, so they’re kept long and swept to the right side of her face.

height: 5��7″

clothing style: richer than you. Very fancy and feminine. Usually keeps things lighter in color and elegant in style. Nothing overly exposing, but is inclined to show off her shoulders if the weather allows, though she’s likely got a shawl or something else to go over them in case she gets cold.

best physical feature: her face?? idk beth’s really pretty.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE.

fears: Being controlled / unable to make her own decisions. Failure. Would not be a fan of losing her loved ones but knows it’s a fairly high possibility given their positions. Really does not like wasps.

guilty pleasure: Sweets. She ate less of them before arriving at the academy.

biggest pet peeve: She’s got a list that deserves a post of its own :\

ambitions for the future: To keep doing what she’s doing as a hunter, protecting the people, keeping order & peace, etc. She’d like it if one day if her profession would no longer be a necessary one; people do enough crap to each other, no one really needs to have deranged vampires tearing people to shreds in the background? but that simply won’t happen without reckless Purebloods being reigned in, so she’ll do her job without much complaint. If she could, she’d love to be a music teacher or something else in the performing arts world.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS.

first thoughts upon waking up: When she’s married, she usually just rolls over to see if Takashi is there or not tbh. Otherwise Beth’s mentally going over her day plans as she’s getting ready.

what you think about most: Planning her day, and the next day, so on, so forth. She keeps things orderly.

what you think about before bed: Relieved to be comfortable in bed, probably with some more planning going on sjhffjdhh.

what your best quality is: I think, even when she’s 1000 years old and has lost so many people she’s loved in that time, she still has the ability to care about things? She doesn’t fall into that ‘jaded, bored, ‘woe is me’ immortal’ trope, she genuinely still tries to do what she feels is the right thing and she loves her children and life so much. If we’re talking young Beth, I’d say her best quality is-- euh. ._. Maybe...her....dedication? =-= Maybe that’s what makes her so relaxed as an adult too. Haven’t thought about it before.

WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: single!??! though i can gentle tides & sunny sweets going to some event or another, and people mistaking siblings dating another set of siblings.

to be loved or respected: Respected tbh. She has love from the people she loves and that’s all she needs in regard to that.

beauty or brains: taka 8I

dogs or cats: CAAAAAAATS

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU…

lie: Yes. Kind of has to lie. She can’t just tell people ‘Hi, I’m probably going to outlive you bc of some weird vamp genes my family has under less than savory circumstances and also I kill vampires for a living so you’re less likely to be murdered by one sometime.’

believe in yourself: Yes, but she does have moments of self-doubt. It mostly hits her when she’s younger; by the time she’s matured, Elizabeth has got a good grip on her place in the world.

believe in love: YAYAYYAYAA???

want someone: she’s married, man

LAYER SIX: EVER BEEN…

been on stage: Yes; she’s worked on numerous productions while in school.

done drugs: HECK NO she just takes her prescription meds for depression in the morning.

changed who you were to fit in: Yeah, though I guess she hid things more than changed them? She tends to stick around hunters, but she did have some average human friends in middle school, and as a result, had to hide a lot of things from them.

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES.

favorite color: Pastels all the way.

favorite animal: CAAAAATS

favorite movie: hggnghghgh-- Probably The Last Unicorn, I swear this is not me being biased with how much I love the film myself. The music catches her attention, and the ending is one of her favorite things about it. It’s a little bittersweet at the end, but she’s found that scene to be very relateable. It’s not the same situation, clearly, but she’s loved people she knows she’ll outlive as a result of who and what she is, and she feels that regret, but she loves them and the time spent with them nonetheless. i lowkey can write an essay to better articulate this but i wont--

favorite game: She’s a fan of video games, though it wouldn’t seem like it at first glance. She’s played a few violent ones, but she prefers to play rhythm games, or games that are fast-paced.

LAYER EIGHT: AGE.

day your next birthday will be: 18th of October

how old will you be: entirely verse dependent, yo. she could be 18, or could be friends with ur muse’s great great great grandchildren

age you lost your virginity: i don’t really want to answer this one, nothing bad happened, i don’t want to share it is all??

does age matter: Yes, of course it does??? D:

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON.

best personality: Kind & trustworthy, honest, level-headed, and hard-working. Takes things seriously, but still can still make her smile.

best eye color: im gonna level with u, this entire section is just about taka

best hair color: taka again

best thing to do with a partner: She wants to do everything on earth with him. She wants to travel the world, to simply waking up in the morning with him at home and making breakfast and coffee/tea for themselves + the kids, im going to b emotional fjdkfjdlkfd they deserve this so much

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE.

i love: living my life

i feel: fine

i hide: parts of myself sometimes

i miss: the people i can’t be with anymore

i wish: we wouldn’t have to fight

#long post #( blood corresponds with the sea: headcanons. )#( misc headcanon. )#drug mention //#death mention //#( stole this but pls feel free to do it! )

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niknakart · 8 years ago

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Cryptid Hunting, a PresNik fanfic

Evening was starting to fall, the sky over Camp Campbell darkening gradually. The kids should have been back in their tents over an hour ago, but on the makeshift stage of theatre camp, Preston was still scribbling away at a bit of paper, muttering furiously. He was working on a new play script, and didn't want to stop until it was finished. Nikki was getting ready for some night exploring, when she saw subtle movement at the stage. Thinking it to be a stray animal, she grinned and ran over, leaping out at him. "IIIII've gotcha!" Of course, Preston being Preston, his reaction HAD to be completely melodramatic. "AAAAAAAGH!" He shrieked, leaping backwards, utterly horrified. After a heart-stopping moment, he realised who his mystery attacker was. "Nikki! You evil little rat!" He clutched at his heart pitifully. "You nearly KILLED me! How dare you? What are you doing out? It's nearly dark!" "The dark's when the fun things come out." She noticed the papers. "Ooooo, whatcha writing?" "No!" Preston snatched his papers out of her reach. "No touching! It's none of your business." He turned his nose up snobbishly, but it was painfully obvious he actually really wanted to talk about it. Typical Preston. She smiled a bit wider, "Are you working on another play thing, like the one I was supposed to be in?" "Mmmmmaybe..." he drawled mysteriously, giving her a smirk. After a moment, he grinned excitedly, flourishing with one hand. "Picture this! It's Hamlet, except Hamlet's father was actually an alien who had an affair with the queen! Doesn't it sound wonderful?" "WOAH, NO WAY... who's hamlet?" "Who... who's HAMLET?!" Preston's voice rose to a shout. "HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW WHO HAMLET IS?! THE BEAUTIFUL SPAWN OF THE BARD! THE ULTIMATE TRAGIC HERO OF SHAKESPEARE!" He coughed lightly, blushing a little as he realised how loud he'd been. "...my apologies." She giggled, "He sounds important. So his dad's an alien now? Does he know?" She seemed genuinely interested. "No, that's the best part! He only finds out when his father dies, and his ghost comes to visit him!" Preston chuckled proudly. "It's genius, if I do say so myself. I was wondering, Nikki, if you'd like to play Hamlet. Considering you didn't get to play Juliet last time. I'm sure you were very upset." "Wait? I get to play the hero?! Do I fight things?!" She was bouncing on her toes "Yes! In fact, you get to kill everyone in the play!" Preston grinned, handing her the script. "Have a read through. I knew you'd love it! And you'll absolutely nail the part, too! AH, you're perfect for it!" He pranced around the stage in his enthusiasm, flourishing dramatically. She read through it, smiling more as she went on. "Wow, I do kill everyone. Can I do cool stunts?" "Of course! We can use state of the art special effects, just like they use on Broadway!" He was only imagining now - that could never really happen - but the theatre kid was so excited he almost believed it. "You know, Nikki, maybe one day I will be on Broadway." "Broadway? I think my dad called my mom that once." She set the script down and walked over to him. "That's the music/play thingy right? You could definitely do that." "Ah, I hope so. My father doesn't seem to agree, but I'm going to keep trying my hardest to get there." He paused, seeming curious. "Do your parents fight a lot, then?" He sounded stiff, as though he wasn't used to asking about other people. That was true enough; Preston only really spoke about himself. She shrugged, and began playing with one of the prop swords. "Yeah, but all parents do that. That's what Neil says." "Hm." Preston sat down on the edge of the stage, patting the boards beside him for Nikki to sit down too. "In all of Shakespeare's plays, there is some form of family dysfunction. I suppose it's been happening for hundreds of years. But that doesn't mean it's good, or normal." He shook his head, laughing with that manic suddenness that only Preston could pull off. "Look at me, getting all serious over something that isn't theatre!" She sat next to him and laughed a bit too. "I guess you just know about all kinds'a drama." She still played with the plastic sword, nervously picking at some of the lose plastic on one of the seams. "You're not wrong though, I guess." He tone was a bit quieter than it usually was. "Ah, Nikki. The woes of tragedy are all too familiar to me, being in the theatre." He gave her what looked like an attempt at a kind smile; still a little bit manic, a little bit snobbish, but kind nonetheless. "What seems to be troubling you? Talk away!" "Me? What, no, I'm fine!" Her smile immediately perked up and she looked like her normal self again, though it looked somewhat forced. "I wanna hear more about the play and your broads and stuff!" Preston chuckled, leaping to his feet. "Of course!" He seized a prop sword, and pointed it elegantly at Nikki. "Care to rehearse a fight scene?" He'd noticed how forced her smile looked, of course he had. But she really seemed to enjoy this kind of thing. Maybe he could cheer her up this way? She immediately bounced up, grinning ear to ear. "YEAH!" She ran at him like a raging bull, gripping the sword in both hands, ready to strike. Preston instinctively shrieked, waving his sword frantically, before regaining his former composure and blocking Nikki's strike with delicate skill. Thank goodness he'd taken those fencing classes to help with stage fights. "Amateur!" He teased, leaping out of the way with a smirk. She stopped for a moment, clearly impressed. "I kinda thought you were gonna faint on the spot, not bad." She watched him closely before making another attempt, this time a more subtle strike. Preston managed to block the strike, but only just, his blade slipping off the surface of Nikki's with a nasty 'shwing' noise. She was matching him in style now, and it was getting more difficult. "Good, good..." "Let's see how long you can keep this up" She struck several times in succession, each blow aimed for a different location. That did it. Flailing his ridiculous noodle arms in an attempt to block the strikes, and leaping backwards simultaneously, Preston lost his balance and fell off the edge of the stage with a cry. It wasn't far to fall, and there was grass below, so he wasn't hurt. But, being Preston, the shock had made him faint momentarily, just as Nikki had predicted. Nikki giggled, but ran over to make sure he was alright. She leaped off the stage and landed in the grass next to him. "You're not actually dead, right?" Preston whined and rolled onto his front. "Just let me bask in my humiliation," he huffed, his voice muffled by the grass. "I was supposed to kill you though, that's how you wrote it." She scooted over and started pulling the grass and piling it on his back. "Stop it this instant," Preston grumbled, lifting his head a little to glare at her, but not making any effort to move. The sky was fully dark by now, and all the lights in the cabins and tents were switched off. She didn't stop, but kept piling ripped up grass in the same spot on his back. "I'm burying you. I'm pretty sure that's what you do when your friends die." "Hm.. yes.. that is.. that would be... correct..." Preston murmured, his eyes fluttering closed. He yawned quietly. Evidently the repetitive movement of placing the grass, combined with how dark it was, was relaxing him. She stopped and tilted her head slightly. "Are you actually going to sleep out here?" "Hm...? What?" He mumbled sleepily. The boy's eyes suddenly snapped open and he sat up quickly. "Oh! Oh my, I didn't realise." He yawned quietly again. "Aren't you tired?" "No way! I can go for hours, I'm getting ready to go in the woods and look for cryptids!" "Cryptids...?" Preston's eyes widened dramatically and he grabbed Nikki's shoulders. "Oh, Nikki! That's ever so dangerous! There could be things in there that could EAT you, and you were planning to go alone? No, I won't allow it. I'm taking you back to your tent." "Nah, if they try it, I'll wrestle them like alligators and then they'll raise me as one of their own! I'll be a little Big foot... a Big Toe?" Despite himself, Preston let out a snort of laughter. "Well, if you are going to insist upon this frankly ridiculous activity, I should probably come with you." His voice wavered slightly. "Sure, they could probably adopt you too!" She brushed the grass off him and stood up with a small bounce. Preston shuddered inwardly. "Sasquatch? Adopting me? It hardly bears thinking of." He stood up too, trying to stop his legs from quivering already. He wasn't going to faint again. It wasn't THAT scary out here, right? "Then maybe you'll get lucky and find the chupacabra or Goat Man!" She grabbed his arm and made a beeline into the forest, It was close to pitch black at this point. "Oh, this is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. This is a terrible, terrible idea!" Preston muttered regretfully as they made their way into the forest. "It's most certainly not because I'm frightened, not at all, but I really believe the both of us should turn back..." An owl swooped down near his head, and he practically screamed, jumping violently. "Is that Owlman?! I think it is!" She let go of his arm and climbed on a large rock sticking out of the ground, she stood up and put her arms spread wide out, "I'm hear Owlman, come and get me!" She was standing on her tip toes on the edge of the rock. "Don't fall!" Preston screeched, waving his arms. "If you die I'll be blamed! I'd have to live as an outcast, running from the law. My family would disown me!" He stood tensely at the base of the rock, conflicted. Should he climb it to make sure Nikki was safe? Should he stay on the ground, where it was safe? She didn't seem to hear him, her focus was on the wildlife around her, "I'm right here! I'm ready for you to take me home!" She inched forward, her toes were now off the edge. Real fear caught at Preston's heart, and he instinctively started to climb the rock. "Nikki! Be careful, for goodness' sake! Step back!" She turned to look at him. "Huh, why?" As she said that, her foot slipped. The adventurous look on her face was quickly replaced with panic, and she managed to grab onto the rock with her hands to keep from falling. "NIKKI!" Scrabbling clumsily up onto the top of the rock, Preston reached out a hand desperately, holding it down for her. "Take my hand! I-I won't let you fall! You'll be ok!" He wiped at his eyes furiously with his other hand. He was NOT going to cry. She carefully reached with one hand, while the other stayed clutching the rock. The outstretched hand was just centimeters away from hers, but she couldn't close the gap between them. "I can't!" Her grip with her other hand was weakening. "Keep holding on for just one moment!" Preston gasped desperately, leaning right over the edge of the rock to grab her hand in both of his. With a bit of manoeuvring he managed it, and, breathing hard, hauled her up over the edge. She was out of breath, and still a little shaken. "I almost fell... I could've died... that... that was... AWESOME! Let's do it again!" She was genuinely excited, but seemed to be joking about that last part. "What? WHAT?" Preston grabbed her shoulders and shook her furiously. "Yes, you could have died! You could have died and I might not have been able to help you, and... I.." he dissolved into frightened tears. "I-I want to go back to the camp. Now." "Don't cry! We'll go back to camp, okay? Just don't cry." She pulled him into a tight hug. Preston whimpered, burying his face in her shoulder. After a moment or two he sniffled, trying to stop crying, and nodded. "It's too dark and dangerous out here." "Sure, let’s go back. I had enough fun anyway, I'll get adopted by Mothman tomorrow." She rubbed his back comfortingly. "Now I understand why Neil has such bad anxiety," Preston mumbled under his breath, rubbing at his eyes again as he climbed carefully down the rock. He waited at the base of it for Nikki to follow. Nikki slid down it with ease, still smiling ear to ear. "Yeah, I keep things fun." Preston folded his arms irritably, seeming almost back to his normal self already. "Your definition of 'fun' is rather worrying, Nikki." "Kids? Kids!" The shout echoed through the trees, high and panicked. Preston tilted his head. "Is that David?" "I think so, he probably thinks we died or something." She grabbed his arm again, "C'mon, last one there is platypus crap!" "Hey!" Preston took off running behind her, David's shouts getting louder as they approached the camp. Now they could hear Gwen calling too, both of them sounding painfully like terrified parents. "Uh oh, we're in trouble!" She didn't slow down though With a burst of speed and holding tighter to Nikki's hand, Preston made an attempt to run them both past David without being spotted. Unfortunately, it didn't really work out that way. "Nikki! Preston!" Both kids were suddenly smothered in a tight hug. "Oh, thank goodness, we were so worried! Gwen, I found them!" "Let... go..!" Preston gasped, squirming indignantly. "We're fine, we were just looking for Mothman and Bigfoot, oh and we found Owlman!" David pulled away, looking stern. "What the gosh darn heck would you do that for? The woods are dangerous at night, kids. Dang, I'll have to do a workshop on safety tomorrow..." Preston opened his mouth, then shut it again. He wasn't going to worry David even more by telling him about Nikki's near-fall. Instead, he huffed, glaring. "Yes, yes, now if you don't mind I'd really like to be getting my beauty sleep. I've already missed enough." Nikki seemed intent on acting as if the near fall never happened. "Yeah, I might get some shut eye too, got big plans tomorrow." She let out an exaggerated yawn. "Alright, kids, off you go. Sleep tight, and get ready for another day of activities tomorrow!" He flashed them a blinding smile and hurried off (with a very relieved Gwen) towards the counsellors' cabin. Preston glanced at Nikki, giving her a quick smile. "Goodnight, Nikki. Oh, and don't you dare tell anyone I cried. Or I might just give the part of Hamlet to somebody else, hm?" He smiled sweetly and walked in the direction of his tent She pantomimed a zipper on her mouth and gave him a thumbs up, before walking away to her own tent.

#my writing #camp camp fanfic #camp camp #camp camp nikki #camp camp preston #camp camp presnik #presnik #cc nikki #cc preston

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gavinkblog · 7 years ago

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A Short Tale by Roy Bailey

The chill of the night air caught their faces as the door swung shut behind them, shielding them from the raucous din. Pausing for a moment to allow their senses to adjust, their minds briefly wandered back to the evening they had just experienced. Tales of adventure, danger and woe were shared to the backdrop of dancing flame and atmospheric music. All now closed inside the warmth of the tavern were in awe of the Traders and their heroic deeds. The town folk were still amidst an anecdote being recalled by the almighty Ulfgar, this he bellowed enthusiastically adding some minor embellishments. The four who now stood in the night felt somehow different, and as they wondered whether one of the towns folk, amongst the strange concoctions had given them something harmful of magical they took their first steps into the darkness.

The lights they carried soon caught movement and they knew a threat was upon them. A humanoid figure in the street stood as if to challenge them and as the creature’s face became clear the glazed green eyes of a follower of Maw were fixed upon them. As the party (minus Ulfgar) prepared for a showdown they confirmed to themselves subtle adjustments had occured to their items, powers and even their very characters.

The reality quickly dawned on the learned Rincewind who could recall something once said in riddles by the fabled dungeon master (who sporadically guided them) and knew this was a prophecy fulfilled (he’d bought the 5th Edition rule books). They would have to quickly embrace the changes and learn their new powers whilst facing this foe.

Drogarth who was still trying to shrug off the effects of a hard (never challenge a Dwarf to a drinking competition) drinking session had believed his limbs were heavy with alcohol consumption, but now realised he was wearing armour similar to what he used to wear before his magical abilities were awoken. Taking this as an omen from his deity, he focused his thoughts in the hope his calls would be answered.

Rincewind as a tester sent forth a fiery bolt of magic towards the enemy stood in the open, the creatures flesh was singed by it remained undeterred and was intent on forcing it’s way towards them. Almost appearing possessed as it showed a lack of regard for it’s own safety.

Aranys knew her role and skill set would still shine no matter what had happened and with her superior perception she had spotted a second foe in the shadows of a side street and stealthily made her way to end it. It was then she noticed Drogarth had a new look of clarity as he focused magical enegery at the being that faced Rincewind, stopping it in it’s tracks. Looking as always to make the most of combat advantage, Aranys darted in, drawing her daggers. She plunged them into the creature and even in this state of (almost) suspended animation the monsters face contorted in anguish.

Drogarth dashed forth towards the same enemy, harnessing new found abilities granted by his deity (or maybe the half-inched players handbook belonging to Mongo) he roared “I will SMITE thee” holding his flaming war axe aloft as if to channel powers from the gods themselves. He let rip with all the might he could bring down and the foe was soon no more. The creature collapsed almost drawn in two by the blow and the Dragonborn appeared drained.

The others collectively thought Drogarth’s actions were overzealous and that he was exhausting his strength with wild abandonment. Not an opinion held by him, as he had found new enjoyment in smiting the ruin of the enemy, yes all obviously for a good and righteous cause.

Now it transpired there were two further enemies and not one as first thought, as a glimpse of another is seen partially emerging from it’s vale of darkness on a nearby roof. Mongo focuses his strength onto Rincewind whose skin seemed to warp and harden like bark, before he headed off on his own in search for the components he required for a purpose known only to him.

The enemy runs from the shadows of the dark side street charging the Wizard, sneering and grunting, holding out its claws ready to swipe. At first it appeards Rincewind has failed to notice, but he was well aware and just biding his time. Now with the creature almost upon him, he calmly lifts his hand spreading his fingers and with a wry smile utters the words “be gone” and with a POP the creature vanishes.

By now Aranys, using supreme acrobatics has made her way onto the roof where the third foe is stood. She is intent on showing this creature why she has such a fearsome reputations for dealing death to those who oppose her. Mongo also makes his way where (what appears to be) the last enemy is stood, and focuses his searing powers in readiness to unleash his full fury.

Rincewind lets out a small chuckle to himself, as he is still amused recalling the look of surprise on the creatures face as it popped out of this realm. He now gazes up to the roof where there is movement and in a bid to have a bit more enjoyment, speaks a word or two under his breath, points at the creature and POOF turns it into a sheep. At the same time a CRACK announces the return of the green eyed creature he had sent away. It growls and claws at him, Rincewind stares at the beast and nonchalantly says “Oh, you again” using the protection provided by Mongo to shield him from damage. The creature rips at him with all of it’s might, but has little affect on the wizards bark like features. Infact he’s more interested in the outcome of his last spell.

Aranys now stood over a very annoyed looking sheep, thinks to herself ‘well in for a penny’ picks it up and tosses it off the roof onto the cobbles below. The fall is enough to kill the beast and so it returns to it’s previous form, battered and bruised. If it was angry before that’s nothing compared to the furious vengeance radiated by it now. But it is to no avail, as with the joint powers of Mongo and Aranys it soon meets it’s end. Almost simultaneously Drogarth has managed to catch his breath and makes haste back into the fray. Sure that his last success was a divine sign, he draws on all his holy and magical energies, pulls back his axe with a streak of flame and smites the last enemy shouting “SMITE, OH, MIGHTY SMITER” as he does.

The four re-group and head back to the tavern. They wish to speak with Ulfgar, to relay what they have now learned. As they enter he is mid stream, and is just coming to the part where he swung off the bridge onto ‘Lady Frost’ a giant white Dragon, before he goes on to single handily kill the Hydra in the arena. Noticing his companions he soon wraps up the tale, bangs his tankard down on the bar and moves off as patrons bang on their tables in appreciation, several even throwing down some coin. Soon the part are reunited in a quieter corner of the tavern, where the four relive the experience on the street, a lacklustre account which obviously pales in comparison to what Ulfgar just conveyed. We advise it would be best not to get carried away and expend too much energy (mentioning no names) and thank the unsung hero of the group Mongo, before they all have a chuckle about Rincewind’s freshly displayed whimsical side.

#D&D

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writingformeandyou · 8 years ago

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My OC

I FINALLY DID MY OC SUCKAS!

I decided to use mew-poo’s 100 OC asks, so thank you mew-poo!

I swear, I’m not stealing them!

Name: Veil Hagen Halvorsen (To cover, pasture, and guardian)

Home: Einn-Berg (Alone mountain)

1. What do they smell like?

A lot of lotion from Bath & Body Works (anything marshmallow or pumpkin), some sweat, and very faintly her past meal.

2. What is their voice like? It’s a mix between Yellow Diamond (Steven Universe) and Amethyst (Steven Universe)

3. What is their biggest motivator? Her village elder. He always made her feel safe and aided

4. What is their most embarrassing memory? Veil one time decided to be a show off to the other children in the marketplace by doing a flip in full armor. She did the flip correctly, but she ended up plummeting into the fountain filled with dirty well water.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain? She gets angry but will also cry, promptly getting angry again and try not to cry as she tends to her wounds.

6. What do they like to wear? Veil likes to wear longer clothes if she’s not in her armor. She lives in the cold, so it makes a lot of sense. Trenchcoats coming down to her ankles, turtlenecks, joggers, etc.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively? It was all of her relationships in general. All of her boyfriends and girlfriends all had the ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude and it rubbed off on her. She grew stronger from these and she never cared much about negativity pointed towards her.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten? She ate an entire Naga head one time, eyes, brain and all. Her father brought it home after a large hunt and she was the only one brave enough to eat it amoungst her large family.

9. Describe the way that they sleep. She sprawls out across her mattress, drools a lot, kicks, punches, mutters, the whole shabang.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food? She enjoys a lot of meat and a lot of sweet things. Mostly sweet things. She can make a bakery hide in shame.

11. What do they feel most insecure about? She tends to feel a little bad about her weight. Like I mentioned, she loved sweet things, so she would feel a little bad about herself if her armor had to be reforged. Also her anger issues. She’s brash and aggressive and sassy, so he doesn’t like it if people jump to conclusions and think she’s just an asshole all the time (like some anons out there, I wonder who they are :o )

12. How do they like to dress? Long clothes, even in the heat. Fuck Lestallum’s officers asking and begging her to change into shorts or something. Long clothes are life. She also has some clothes that are hide and fur. She has a nice cloak made of white coeurl fur and bleached behemoth hide she likes to wear.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt? She stays quiet and lulls over what made her feel guilty. She stays in the darkest and coldest armor she can put on, especially her helm.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal? She gets pissed. She will smash apart anything she can get her hands on and smash anything apart. She screams, roars, and growls while breaking down into a pit of tears.

15. What is their greatest achievement? She became the general of her village’s army, always leading her people on hunts and forages.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep? Grumpy and will sleep anywhere. Even on the backside of a Magi-tek engine. The stereotypical black circles show up on her eyes and the grumpiness literally is written on her face in tired wrinkles.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk? She spills the whole entire factory of beans. You wanna know everything but magically didn’t say a word? Veil will become that old viking who tells you the whole tales of woe. She also slurs and finds fake trees sad.

18. What kind of music do they enjoy? Viking music and metal music.

19. Are they right or left handed? Ambidextrous.

20. Fears? Bugs, uncontrolled fire, dolls, some supernatural creatures i.e. werewolves.

21. Favorite kind of weather? Snow.

22. Favorite color? Icy colors.

23. Do they collect anything? Armor and weapons. She also somehow accumulated a whole stash of teeth from kills.

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more? Cold. She despises the heat.

25. What is their eye color? They change between gray and hazel.

26. What is their race/ethnicity? Northern European.

27. Hair color? Dyed a light lilac.

28. Are they happy where they are currently? Yes.

29. Are they a morning person? No, Veil likes afternoon where everything is alive.

30. Sunrise or sunset? Sunset, because she anticipates the next day.

31. Are they more messy or more organized? Messy, but that is how she stays organized. Whatever she needs, it magically surfaces.

32. Pet peeves? People who get on her about her accent (she gained an accent from talking to an amature jeweler), perfectionists, those who click their gauntlets against metal, people who don’t wash off blood from kills.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance? Her battleaxe she recieved from the elder before he died.

34. Least favorite food? Anything with fish (for the exception of shrimp and prawns).

35. Least favorite color? Pink and yellow.

36. Least favorite smell? Animal feces.

37. When was the last time they cried? During the funeral of the village elder. She had to burn him herself because she was asked.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried? The whole village of course.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured? She decided to do a local hunt that was closest to the village. Her village never communicates with the outside world, so she basically is the most modern. She decided to take on a quest that had the most amount of gil which turned out to be three behemoths. As she killed the smallest ones, the largest one manages to scratch open her cheek when her helm feel off. She almost went blind in her left eyes.

40. Do they have any scars? Obviously, the scratch marks from the behemoth. It goes from tthe right side of her nose to the lower half of her neck with another claw mark going under her chin and merging in. Otherwise she has brn marks from when her skin came into contact with heated objects or simply dropping a torch on herself or small scratches from hunts or fights.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues? Anxiety and psychosis depression.

42. Do they have any bad habits? She bites on her knuckles a lot.

43. Why might someone dislike them? She’s brash and can come off as rude.

44. Why might someone love them? She’s really cuddly and sweet to those that don’t piss her off.

45. Do they believe in ghosts? Yes.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives? The elder, but he’s dead.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone? No, but she wants to be.

48. Are they dating/married to anyone? No, but she wouldn’t mind.

49. Do they like surprises? Depends on the surprise. A festival? Yeah. Her mother dying from a werewolf attack? Not really.

50. When is their birthday? June 21, the summer solstice.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday? A festival is always thrown on someone’s birthday. For hers, since it is in summer, it celebrated by the whole village setting oil drenched metal suns on fire, a lot of firey objects, and a lot of meat.

52. Do they have any family? A deceased mother, a paranoid father who was thrown in jail for being thought of as a werewolf, nine brothers (in order of age: Valdus - 22, Farkas - 19, Mass - 18, Bjor & Reger - 17, Halvard & Halvdan - 16, Kilmar - 15, Alois - 10) and six sisters (in order of age: Veil - 23, Adelaide - 19, Leandra - 18, Selda - 17, Hildred & Gladys - 15 and Blondine - 10). Don’t get me started on the amount of aunts and uncles and cousins she has. She is the oldest sibling.

53. Are they close to their family? Yes. Mainly with her younger sister Adelaide.

54. What is their MBTI type? INFP - Idealistic, loyal to their values and to people who are important to them.

55. What is their zodiac sign? Gemini - The Twins.

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in? Gryffindor.

57. What D&D alignment are they? Chaotic Good

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about? Yes. It is about an attack on the village when she is not there or finding out that something slaughtered her family.

59. What are their views on death? She sees it as a place to either stay in the clouds and drink mead all day or to start over.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at? Aimals doing something adorable.

61. When bored, how do they pass time? She plays with the fingers of her gauntlets or runs her fingers along the horns of her helm. Sometimes she hums songs under her breath.

62. Do they enjoy being outside? Yes.

63. Do they have an accent? She has a mix between a New England accent and a Norse accent. It sounds good actually.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction? If it’s someone else’s, she’ll leave it alone. But if it a sibling’s or a cousin’s, fair game.

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say? She’ll take it on head first.

66. How do they feel about sex? She doesn’t care much about it, mainly because she doesn’t think about it. If it happens, it happens.

67. What is their sexuality? Pansexual - The sexual attraction to a person of any sex or gender.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood? No.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross? Flatuence and vomit.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them? Jerk With A Heart Of Gold One Woman Army Deadpan Snarker Big Sister Badass Girl

71. Do they enjoy helping people? Very much.

72. Are they allergic to anything? Cinnamon (rip), pollen, dandelions, dogs.

73. Do they have a pet? A pigmy goat named Lítill Fótr (Little Foot)

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper? Very.

75. How patient are they? It depends on the subject

76. Are they good at cooking? Very.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often? ‘You’re the biggest person here, bitch!’ “I thought I was, until you walked in with that nose of yours.” Or “You remind me of one of those Russian dolls: You’re full of yourself.”

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy? She’s kinder and always has a small smile on her face.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears? If it is her family, she will go through everything to use it against them. If it is someone else, she will do everything in her power to protect them from their fear.

80. Are they trustworthy? Very.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it? It depends. If she’s pissed, curious or depressed it shows. Everything else it barely shows.

82. Do they exercise regularly? The only exercise she gets is when she goes on hunts. Otherwise, she’s lazy.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look? Mostly, until you get to her height (5 feet) and her stomach & waist region.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people? Height (tallness). Strong jawlines. Big hands.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive? Brash yet kind.

86. Do they like sweet foods? VERY MUCH!

87. What is their age? 23 years olds.

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between? Short.

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts? None.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive? She finds herself at least 75% attractive.

91. What is their sense of humor like? She uses truth in her humor unless it comes to insults.

92. What mood are they most often in? Mellow.

93. What kinds of things anger them? Some outsiders, those who try to steal from her, picking on her and her family, bringing up her parents, etc.

94. Outlook on life? You focus on yourself first, then worry about others. It can be a cruel place if you do’t figure things out first.

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed? War, death to those who didn’t deserve it, plaugues.

96. What is their greatest weakness? Paranoia.

97. What is their greatest strength? Loyalty.

98. Something that they regret? Not being at home when her mother was slaughtered.

99. Biggest accomplishment? Becoming the general of the village’s army.

100. Create your own! - What does she look like? 5 feet tall, chubby, long and messy lilac dyed hair that goes past her waist, sharp gray/hazel eyes, a small nose, plush pale pink lips, thick eyebrows, broad shoulders, big breasts, pale olive skin, small ears, thick legs, small feet (about a size 6), a tattoo of Shiva on her back, a nice-sized booty.

10 notes · View notes

writerspink · 6 years ago

Text

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install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

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warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

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xtestament · 8 years ago

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Each Type as Kidnappers:

ESFJ: This one honestly believes they have your “good will” at heart. They’ve grown so close to you, that they feel like they are responsible for each of your actions... therefore this type will likely kidnap you because to them it is after all, for your own good, and no one knows you better than they do.

ISFJ: Likely a lonely person who has desired to become a parent but was never able to, due to medical or other issues. As such will often hear the phrase “They’re such good little children aren’t they, I would love to have good little children like them.” As the parents of the children simply laugh and do not understand this person means it literally and at one moment in the dead of night those children are gone. To this kidnappers mind he/she may truly believe they could give those kids a better life.

INFP: The overly attached one... and I do mean... the overly attached one, you know that overly attached girlfriend or boyfriend? In anime this kidnapper would be likely considered a Yandere, very dangerous and best to try and avoid at all costs. They grow attached to you too fast, to the point where if they can’t have you, no one else can, and they will make sure to have a bunch of pointy things around to make their point clear that you are to never leave their side.

ENFP: Truthfully probably the absentminded overly excited one, they had this idea, that lead to this other idea, which then caused them to get their friends to tag along with said idea... and by tag along, I mean “It would be so cool to go to Bermuda with my friends and explore those Islands... except they’re not much into traveling so I’ll just drug them and when they wake up they’ll have a surprise in store.” And of course said surprise would be friends waking up in Bermuda wondering how the F they got there, as the overly excited ENFP is simply repeating “It’ll be fine, trust me we’re going to have so much fun.” Only to likely get ship wrecked a few days later.

INTP: This one started with a thought... the said thought being “I wonder what would happen if I...” To them it is an experiment, likely an experiment on the victims psyche, also to them since it would be too much of a bother to keep said victim around, would simply release them after they’ve performed their tests. Of course this could be anyone... from friends to strangers, the idea however, is that in order to truly test their reaction, they must be surprised, and what best way to surprise some one and hold them against their will, than a surprise kidnapping.

ENTP: They got bored... it’s very dangerous when an ENTP gets bored, especially if said ENTP decides they want to watch some real life drama in a certain setting. The victims never knew what hit them, only to find themselves in an abandoned area, with the ENTP on the intercom explaining to them the rules of the game, if you win, you get freed, if you lose well... you’re on your own, in either case it is more a matter of amusement to this kidnapper than anything else, besides what are one or two dead bodies anyways?

ENTJ: Likely runs some kind of syndicate... actually most likely does run some kind of syndicate, disguised as a mere business on the outside. This kidnapper means business, they don’t need your money, they don’t need your pleading unless it’s one of utmost fealty. No they will kidnap some one you love to prove a point, that point being they know where you live, they know who you love, and they know who your friends are, so fall in line or else. And what better way to drive that point in than to kidnap the person you love the most.

INTJ: This one will not do the kidnapping themselves, nor will they kidnap just anyone. Power and money are their motive and gain, but why should they be the ones to get their hands dirty? As such their web is far and wide, and the ones they kidnap will be people of influence and stature... or at least their family members. Of course this would be done via minions and messengers, as they either begin to blackmail or send in the ransom notices to said family members. Even if they are caught... they never are truly caught.

ISFP: Much like the INFP, also potentially dangerous, but they’ve got a more... hands on twisted idea of love or beauty... perhaps even both. The victims don’t need to be alive, they just need to feel them, feel their warm blood and beating heart, and yes this could mean literally. Likely strong into S&M, but without that safe word, as their screams are music to the ear and their blood a way to paint with... sometimes even on the victims bodies themselves. In, let’s face it, a very twisted version of self expression.

ESFP: Desperate and perhaps a bit delusional, wants love and attention, but is constantly avoided, driving them to finally snap. Once done they will become a serial kidnapper, and bring people to places where they really don’t want to be. The madness of this kidnapper will likely cause some harm, with some apologies directly after, and thinks forcing things it considers fun onto people a perfectly acceptable thing. Also most likely to be the one saying “See aren’t we having so much fun?!” with a crazed expression and likely a bunch of dead bodies and freaked out people.

INFJ: Has “seen the signs” has “put things together” strongly believes imminent doom is coming down upon all, unless one were to find a way to survive it all. To protect the ones he/she love, this one will lead them subtly into a “bunker” until the perceived danger is gone. The stars have foretold him/her so, and it is within their duty to protect everyone. As such will often be the one constantly saying “Do not hate me for this, for it will all be over soon and we will build a new world, as the corrupt above die and burn.”

ENFJ: The cult leader... and by cult leader, I mean the one who kidnapped a bunch of youth, and started indoctrinating them into believing that they’re a god/goddess who is to be worshiped and has come down upon them in human form. Will likely make them believe that there is no hope for survival without the aid of their divine guidance, and that their divine providence is that which protects all. Those who do not believe are heathens and that those kidnapped are the god/goddesses closest and truest disciples, meant to keep the god/goddess company for all time away from society.

ISTP: Don’t travel alone in the woods at night, for there is one out there who sees you as game and a thrill of the hunt. They have their own special little cabin in the woods... yes that kind of Cabin in the Woods. Which this kidnapper likely built themselves with their own hands. Woe to all who tread pass on his/her land for soon they will never see civilization again. Upon capture, will be put in cages and treated like caged animals, trophies that he/she has been able to capture, it’s more fun keeping them alive, then having them dead.

ESTP: This one has kidnapped only the one important to it’s arch-nemesis, why? To fight that’s why, the hero has been alluding them for far to long, and this kidnapper has finally... finally found the ones the hero has loved, or well... villain depending on how you look at the story... Regardless, those he kidnapped he has set a time limit on, if his/her enemy doesn’t show up... oh no what is one to do? Besides push them off a cliff of course. In reality however, he/she is banking on the Hero to show up, and to have one final grand stand against them in an epic battle between the two that would go down in the pages of history.

ISTJ: This one is merely doing their duty, fulfilling the role their boss has set upon them as a loyal worker, perhaps even the loyalest workers. He/She may not agree with the standards upon which their employee is doing things, but they have been around them the longest, who are they to judge? As such for this one, kidnapping you is really nothing personal, it’s just business.

ESTJ: This one much like the ENTJ is not to be trifled with. Perhaps this one is the leader of the Mafia, Yakuza, the Triad or what ever kind of gang it may be. He/she looks after their subordinates well if wise, and treats them like crap if not. One will likely be kidnapped by this type if say... a friend or family member your close to decided to... borrow some money from some loan sharks. You may not be killed, but should payment not be sent quickly enough... expect to lose a few fingers or toes until payment is met.

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