#woozi sees a fish as a monster

[hbyrde36]

Chapter 8!

ao3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

When Steve woke he was immediately overcome with a wave of nausea and a searing pain in the side of his neck. He felt so sick that he couldn’t even appreciate the fact that he was, by some miracle, still alive. He didn’t know where he was, the only thing he could see from his position was the blood-red fabric of the couch he was lying on, but he didn’t have the capacity to panic about that just yet. He was expending all of his energy trying not to throw up. He groaned, swallowing reflexively to keep the bile down.

“It’s the blood loss.” An unfamiliar voice said, from what sounded like only a few feet away.

Steve turned his head slowly to see who it belonged to. He found a young black man, a vampire, smiling down at him and holding a bottle of Gatorade out in his direction like an offering.

“The sooner you can sit up and drink some fluids. the sooner you’ll start feeling better.” The stranger explained.

“Who..” Steve started to ask, but the other man held up a hand, encouraging him to save his strength.

“I’m Jeff, a friend of Eddie’s. You’re in his office at Guilty Pleasures.”

The vampire helped him to a sitting position, which Steve allowed because, one, he was too weak to fight him off, and two, he didn’t want to be a dick when the guy was just trying to be nice. He took his time, sipping on the drink until it was about half gone, but eventually he had to start asking questions.

“Why didn’t Billy kill me? Why bring me here?”

Jeff shrugged. “Maybe he thinks he can use you for something. Also, it’s…frowned upon, to harm another vampire’s human servant.”

“But, I'm not..” Steve insisted, weakly.

“How you feel is irrelevant.” The vampire said, waving off his objection. “Eddie has marked you twice. You are his and he is yours. Might as well get used to the idea.”

Steve glared at him.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer Billy had killed you?”

“Yes!…No!…I don’t know!” Steve hissed.

He looked away first, fishing his phone out of his pocket and angrily thumbed through it looking for the Uber app. He remembered double parking last night and assumed his car would have been towed.

“Any idea what tow company The Corroded Coffin would use?” Steve asked. He didn’t really expect Jeff to know, but it was worth a try. The last thing he wanted to do was spend half the day calling all over town looking for his car.

“No, but if you’re worried about your car, it’s parked out front. Whoever brought you here last night brought it too.”

“Oh.” Steve patted his pockets, his keys were there. “Thanks.”

When it seemed like he was no longer in danger of passing out again, Jeff excused himself. Sunrise wasn’t far off, and he’d needed to get to wherever it was he normally slept off the daylight hours.

Once alone, Steve drained the rest of the sports drink quickly and decided to risk standing. He was a little woozy but feeling better by the minute. He left the office, venturing out into the club beyond to make his way to the exit. It was empty at this hour of the morning, of course, and he found himself staring at the pole set in the middle of the center stage as he crossed the room. He flushed all over, recalling his dream about Eddie.

Steve ground his teeth, angry at himself for reacting to the memory this way. There was nothing he could do about how attractive Eddie was, it was a simple fact, an undeniable law of the universe. What he could do, is remind himself that this monster, no matter how pretty, had trapped him into some magical lifelong bond bullshit without his consent.

The moment his foot hit the sidewalk he unlocked his phone and pressed the button to call Nancy.

“Steve?” She sounded groggy, as if he had woken her up. In fairness It was barely 6am, so he probably had.

“I know the master of the city’s daytime resting place.” Steve stated, no patience for greetings or formalities.

“Great, tell me.” She sounded instantly more awake. It almost made him smile. Almost.

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll show you.” Steve offered. He had no intention of giving her the information and calling it a day. He wanted to see that motherfucker’s corpse for himself.

“Does that mean you want in on it?” Nancy asked.

He waited until he was safely in the car with the door shut before replying. “He killed Chrissy last night.”

“..Oh Steve. I'm so sorry.”

“Can you meet me at my house in 20?”

-

Nancy beat him there, but at least this time she opted to wait outside instead of breaking into his house. She took one look at him and her jaw dropped, no doubt having spotted the bite wound on his neck.

Inside, Steve filled her in on a little bit more of what he’d been up to for the past few days. He didn’t share every detail, and purposely said nothing at all about Eddie, but gave her the bare minimum of information to explain his plan.

He wanted to get in contact with Gareth, the young wererat king who had inadvertently helped him that first night. If the rats would tell him and Nancy how they got into that basement room, they could sneak in during the day and take Billy and Neil out while they slept without having to fight through any daytime security. It was a good plan, she quickly agreed.

Steve didn’t have any contacts in that part of the supernatural world himself, but Robin did. He sent her off a short text asking if she could get him in touch with Gareth, or someone close to him, but left it at that. He couldn’t tell her about the bite, not yet, she’d lose her mind and probably kidnap him in some misguided attempt at keeping him safe.

He didn’t tell her about Chrissy either. He wasn’t ready to think about it too hard yet, much less talk about it. Robin responded right away, and mercifully didn’t question him on the why, though he knew she would do just that later.

He was dead on his feet, still suffering the effects of blood loss, compounded by the lack of any real sleep. Unconsciousness didn’t quite count, did it?

Nancy ordered him to take a shower and a nap, and for once he was more than happy to comply. He could rest easy knowing she was there watching his back.

-

Steve sighed, becoming aware of the delicious tickle of fingertips running up and down body. Their path began low on his thigh and trailed slowly up, taking a detour in the dip of his hip, before gliding over the firm plane of his stomach and through his chest hair, coming to rest briefly in the hollow of his throat before reversing the process and beginning again.

His eyes remain closed, all the better to enjoy the sensation of someone else’s hands on him. He didn’t quite remember falling asleep, but this was certainly the most lovely way to wake up.

His thoughts were fuzzy, jumbled. He didn’t know who was in the bed with him, but for some reason the idea didn’t scare him the way it should have. He fought to open his eyelids and finally succeeded, finding the most beautiful face of pale skin and deep brown eyes filling his field of vision.

Eddie hovered above him, his pretty pink mouth mere inches away from Steve’s own.

“Hi sweetheart.” Eddie said, grinning in a way that displayed his dimples in all their glory. He dipped down, lips brushing over Steve's in a featherlight kiss. It was jarring, so unlike the frenzied and passionate exchanges they had shared so far.

Something niggled at the back of Streve’s mind. “Eddie, Is this real?” He asked, whispering into the space between them when Eddie finally pulled away.

“As real as a dream can be I suppose, big boy.” Eddie moved away to lay on his side, propped up on one elbow.

Steve sat up and pushed himself against the headboard, desperate to put more space between himself and the other man before he did something stupid.

“That wasn’t exactly an answer. Are you really a dream or is this more vampire mind trick crap?”

“This is a dream.” Eddie said, gesturing at the general area around them. “But I am very real. My body may not actually be present in the room with you, but I am here.”

Steve's heart raced, something he didn’t know was possible to feel in a dream. Of course, he hadn’t known any of this was possible before now. “What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?”

Eddie smirked, drawing mindless circles into the sheet with a finger. “Why, have you not been having a good time?”

“That’s not the point, Eddie! You’ve been invading my dreams, making me do things!” Steve shouted.

Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “Let me stop you right there, sweet thing. I haven't been making you DO anything. You have free will here, they are your dreams after all. Besides, you could keep me out if you wanted to, but you’ve been so busy enjoying yourself that It didn't even occur to you to try, did it?”

Embarrassment, fear, and anger mingled together in Steve's mind to create a very potent cocktail of rage. It was all that was needed to spur him on, to try and force Eddie out. He said nothing, just closed his eyes and concentrated on his task.

When Eddie spoke next his voice held a hint of panic. “Wait, Steve. Please. I’m sorry, okay? I can help you with Billy if you just..”

“No, Eddie! I don’t want your help!” Steve screamed as loud as he could, and when he opened his eyes again, the vampire was gone. Lying in his place was a single red rose.

-

“Steve! Steve! Wake up!”

It took Steve what felt like a very long time to open his eyes. He could feel Nancy shaking his shoulder and calling to him, trying to rouse him, but it sounded like it was coming from another room, or miles away. It was hard to tell. When he did manage to finally wake up completely, she punched him in the arm, hard.

“What the hell? You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “How long were you trying to wake me up?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on the clock.

“A while.”

“Sorry.” He apologized again. It’s not like he had done it on purpose or anything, but he still felt bad. He wasn’t used to seeing Nancy rattled.

“It’s okay, just, you were talking and shouting in your sleep, and then you wouldn’t wake up.” She was staring so intently at his face that it was making him squirm. Nancy had a way of looking through you, of figuring things out, and that’s the last thing he felt like dealing with right now.

Steve nodded and looked away, reaching for his phone on the nightstand as a distraction. He wanted to see if there were any new messages from Robin. He had apparently been asleep for a couple hours.

“Who’s Eddie?” Nancy asked.

Steve dropped his phone in surprise and it clattered loudly to the floor. His eyes snapped back to hers, too quickly to not be suspicious. “No one. It doesn’t matter.” He grit out, tone making it clear that the subject was not up for discussion.

She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, fine.”

He climbed off the bed and retrieved his phone. There was a message from Robin, which he read aloud to Nancy. The rat king had agreed to meet with Steve at the Waffle house out by the airport at 10pm. Robin also asked if he wanted her to go with him. He knew she was worried, and he felt bad about keeping things from her, but the situation had become far too dangerous. He thanked her for the help but said he was fine, reluctantly adding that he was taking backup in the form of Nancy Wheeler, when she threatened to show up to the meeting anyway. Robin wasn’t Nancy’s biggest fan, but she knew there wasn’t anyone better to have on your side in a fight, so she agreed to stay safe at home as long as he filled her in on every detail when he could.

“We need to clean that bite before we go anywhere.” Nancy said, as he set the phone down.

Steve nodded, knowing this was coming. He’d carefully washed the area in the shower earlier, but that’s not the kind of cleansing Nancy meant. If they didn’t purify the bite with holy water, a painful process that would feel like pouring acid in the wound, Billy would be able to find him no matter where he was, and maybe even control him. Avoiding that was worth a little discomfort.

A half hour and two bottles of holy water later, the bite was officially clean, and no longer burned when the blessed liquid was poured over it. He sat huddled on the floor of the bathroom and relearned how to breathe.

Steve’s phone had, rather annoyingly, been ringing almost constantly through the entire process. Now that they were done, Nancy had gone to fetch it for him. It began to ring again as she re-entered the room.

It was the office calling, probably wondering if he was planning on showing up today after calling out the past two nights.

“Hello?”

“Steven, how kind of you to finally pick up the phone.”

Steve grimaced, It was his father, not the secretary he was expecting to deal with, fuck.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of something.” He weakly explained.

“Yes, it seems you’ve been very busy lately, which brings me to the reason for my call. I was just wondering if you were going to grace us with your presence tonight, or if you had another bullshit excuse for why you need to reschedule one of our most high-profile clients?” Bert sounded pissed.

“What high-profile client?” Steve asked.

“Mayor Kline, of course.”

“But his appointment isn’t for another two weeks?”

“He called this morning, said he needed to move it up. He wants his nephew raised as soon as possible, and for some reason insists you be the one to do it. You had an open timeslot this evening and I had no reason to refuse, so you better get your ass out to that cemetery by 9pm or so help me god you are fired.”

The cemetery wasn’t that far from the waffle house, if he was quick about it, he could make this work and not lose his main source of income.

“Fine.” Steve spat, before taking a deep breath and continuing on in a much calmer manner. “I mean yes, no problem. I will be there.”

“Good. And, Steven?”

“Hm?”

“I want to see you in my office tomorrow afternoon. We need to have a talk.”

“Can’t wait.” Steve snarked, hanging up before his dad could say anything more.

Nancy was gaping at him. “Did you really just take a job for tonight? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

Steve groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t really have a choice if I wanted to continue to be able to pay my rent. It’s fine, there's enough time to do both, as long as you don’t mind riding along to a zombie raising.”

Nancy shrugged. “Never seen that part of your work before, could be fun.”

-

It was 9:30, Steve and Nancy had been waiting graveside for over 45 minutes and it was becoming more obvious by the minute that his client wasn't going to show.

“We should just go.” Steve said.

“I thought you were worried about losing your job?” Nancy pointed out.

“Not my fault the guy didn’t show.”

Steve hoisted his work bag over his shoulder and bent to pick up the old dog crate that he used to transport the chickens. He wasn’t sure what to do with them now, he’d never had a client pull a no-show before. It was too hot to leave them in the car when they went to meet Gareth, granted they were intended to be used as a sacrifice, but suffocating to death in a hot car was too cruel. At least when he used them in the ritual their deaths were quick and painless.

He was considering opening the cage doors and letting them run free when he heard Nancy’s sharp intake of breath.

“Steve?” She whisper-shouted.

He followed her line of sight and spotted the problem. About 30 feet away a figure sat crouched between two headstones, staring at them. It had long black talons on its hands and feet, and Its mottled gray skin almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.

Steve froze, recalling the poor groundskeeper’s fate. If this creature was part of the pack that did that, they could be in trouble here.

“Nance, we need to get out of here, now.”

“What is that thing?” She asked, not taking her eyes off of it.

“A ghoul, and he’s probably not alone.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“Not usually, unless you’re injured, but I have reason to believe ghouls killed a groundskeeper here a few days ago, so I'm not taking any chances.”

The two of them started slowly backing up in the direction of his car, keeping the creature in sight the whole time, until a chittering sound from behind had them stopping in their tracks. Steve whirled, trusting Nancy to keep her eye on the other one, and found two more of them perched on the roof of his car. Shit.

“Would shooting them do any good?” Nancy asked, easing her hand towards the small of her back.

“They can only be killed by decapitation or fire, so, maybe with enough shots to the neck?” Steve replied, reaching under his arm for his own weapon.

Another figure stepped out from behind a tall monument, not far from the first ghoul. The man spoke loudly as he approached. “Keep those hands where I can see them, Mr. Harrington, Ms. Wheeler.”

It was Brenner, and he had a shotgun aimed right at Steve's chest.

Steve raised his hands, palms out, and Nancy followed suit. Two on one, he knew they could take the older man, but not if he took buckshot to the chest. The ghouls were a wildcard, but Steve had a sneaking suspicion. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the creatures never once looked in Brenner’s direction. Could he be controlling them somehow?

“I appreciate the fact that you haven’t yet told Billy about my…condition, but I can't take the risk that you won’t change your mind in the future.”

More ghouls spilled into the area as he spoke. There had to be at least 9 of them now.

Steve was confused to say the least. “Why would it matter if Billy found out? So you can’t raise the long-dead, who cares? You can still walk in the daylight, do his bidding. Shit, he’ll probablty like you better now, being that you are technically dead, it’s one more thing you two have in common besides being complete fucking assholes.”

Brenner laughed, which was not quite the response Steve was expecting.

“Ah, so I see you havn’t connected the dots yet. It seems I gave you too much credit, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve would like to say he figured it out right then on his own, but it wasn’t until the moonlight caught on the necklace peeking out through Brenners shirt that it dawned on him. The necklace. Magic that demanded a high cost. Like blood. Like death. No wonder he was afraid of Billy finding out his secret.

“You’re the vampire murderer. That’s how you feed the spell to keep you alive.”

“Precisely. Bit slow, but you got there.”

Steve scowled. “So what, you’re just going to shoot us?”

“Actually, I was planning on letting the ghouls have you. Better if it looks like a random attack. You understand.”

Steve flinched as Nancy’s shot rang out, she had taken advantage of the distraction of their conversation and drew her gun. The bullet hit Benner in the chest, causing him to drop his shotgun. He and Nancy tried to rush the man but several ghouls stepped in front of him, blocking their path, and any chance at getting another shot off.

“You afraid of a little pain, Brenner? You know the bullets can’t kill you, not with that thing around your neck.” Steve taunted.

“True enough, young man, but I don't know what would happen if I was shot in the head, and I have no intention of finding out.”

“How is it you’re controlling them?” Steve had to know, it’s not something he’d ever heard of.

Surprisingly, the other man answered. “I don’t really know. They started flocking to me when I came out of my grave and followed my orders with only the barest hint of my will forced upon them. It’s fascinating, really. They are useful little things.”

If the guy was going to be so generous with his answers, Steve figured he might as well keep going.

“I get why you killed the other vampires, you were doing what you had to do to stay alive, and Tommy had tormented you, but why kill the groundskeeper?”

Brenner shrugged. “I was trying out a few new techniques. Consider it target practice.”

“You son of a bitch, he was a human being! He was innocent, he didn’t deserve that.”

“And the vampires did?”

“I..I don’t know.” Certainly Tommy had, but what did Steve really know about the others?

“Hmm, someone is having a crisis of conscience. I wonder if that has anything to do with a certain dark haired master vampire, or perhaps the young Dustin who seems to love you so much.”

“Dustin?” Nancy gasped.

“Later.” Steve said to her before returning his attention back to Brenner. “Enough chatter, asshole. Stop hiding behind your minions and fight, unless you’ve decided to just talk us to death.”

“Unfortunately, I have somewhere to be. I’m sorry it had to be like this, truly.”

At his last words the ghouls surged towards them, covering Brenner’s escape.

Steve turned to Nancy, they needed to run, and fast, but she was busy rifling through her purse.

“Odd time to want to touch up your lipstick.” He said.

“Shut up” She murmured, finally coming up victorious with a lighter and a can of hairspray.

“What’s that for?” Steve asked, dumbfounded.

“Someone was never a Girl Scout”

Nancy stepped in front of him as she lit the lighter and sprayed the aerosol can, aiming the small improvised flamethrower at the closest of the creatures. They cowered away from the flames, and slowly but surely Nancy was able to clear them a path to the car.

“Scouts my ass.” Steve mumbled, rushing to the driver's seat and shoving the key into the ignition.

The spray sputtered and died just as Nancy bumped into the passenger door. She screamed, tossing the now empty can at the head nearest ghoul and throwing herself into the seat.

“Drive, Steve, Drive!”

He peeled out, sending dirt and rocks flying as he sped down the unpaved road that ran the length of the cemetery. The creatures pursued their car, but weren’t fast enough to keep up. By the time Steve turned onto the actual road, they were nothing but a spec in his rear view mirror.

Chapter 9

[ashley-blair-arcanum]

Ms. Miller’s Foldable Husband

His trunk rocks, violent, unnerving, ensuring he’s heard over the din of preparations. I’m forced to air him out. There he is, legs curled behind his back, arms wrapping his chest, head pressed flat, two round, milky eyes dominating either side.

“Hunga,” he intones, mouth gulping like a caught fish.

“It’s ‘Sonya’, you old fool,” I tell him, but it’s forgiven, flat as his mind is. “And you’re in luck; there’s work tonight.”

I take out my folded husband for Samhain, carry him in a bundle across the living room, clunking over bent floorboards and blue TV shadows. Tape pins him to the French window, where he stays, wavy-armed in his dark suit, our sole decoration, one of many discrete guards who will stand diligent through the wild hours I away. All business and pleasure must conclude tonight, and be rested for the year.

Somewhere, in the thick of Samhain, men fall on their wives, begging to take shape as the fleur-de-lis. College girls demand they be taught to fold their brothers into dorm closets and car trunks. Bachelorettes and unloved store managers require my attention.

There are others.

The Wazzle will operate on any hurt animal for free, but lets men die on his doorstep. Aragustus the conjured rejects explanations, the asking of wrong questions and the need for labor. And most deplorable, the revolving teeth, Sighenoa the worm will dress as a lesser monster tonight and go head hunting. Even I might save someone from him. If it’s a man, show him the view from inside a box, hoping father will pass perspective unto son.

But I’ll go nowhere, do good nor bad tonight, if I can’t wear what I like, what makes me feel alive.

Like inhaling the world, I compress the naked hag into herself, pulling tighter than piano strings, narrowing and coiling, till I fit in my favorite slacks and velvet button-down. Nose pinched, eyes straining, I blow out gray hair like dandelion flickers, and up sprout fresh blond waves, masculine and proud.

Doubled over, steel-hard nails digging the door frame, sucking dusty house air, I push outside. Whether I’ll take to the poisoned night air or not, Samhain, cold and fresh and smelling of dead renewal, batters down all barriers. I stagger over the lawn, still woozy. In the window, the foldable husband looks almost as a normal man, watching the passing season in quiet solitude. He guards the front, the fridge the back, and the washer struggles last year’s blood and sweat.

See this, Sighenoa? Aragustus? This land is protected, by the man of the house.

I wheeze into a dry laugh – like bells, I’m told. Feeling stronger now, it’s as though the night air has indeed blown my way, pushing me on toward the festivals.

Samhain. Old Samhain has been red. Falling in on hands and knees, stinking of sex and labia and worm blood, bits of hag bulge under tight skin, and old pain electrocutes hidden grooves. The foldable husband is half peeled off the glass, bent backwards along his spine, arms stretched over his head as if to grab some tether and pull.

No.

I take his flailing hands, tear him down and fold him over and latch him in his box, but a paper-thin limb halts the lid. My hands, young and strong and perfect for precision work, decay and the cord snaps and a putrid hag explodes her clothes and slumps over the trunk of her foldable husband.

“Hunga! Hunga!” he wails, shaking his box enough to powder my bones, while the washer gurgles and the fridge hisses back, till I’m thrown to the floor. His box rattles as a car unseen, blasting bass, crawls outside, kicking up dust, rattling windows. The house sighs. I gasp on the floor.

I can close the box once more, at a price. But can’t risk him evening out and haven’t the strength to fold him. Would need to stretch his five corners over even ground and iron down his seams, and I’m just too tired. Undoing the latch, I carry the folded husband to the backyard, stepping into the deadly air. And I let him go, up, up, in spiraling autumn. My throat closes. Arms grasping my neck, I choke, sneeze with my eyes closed and blow hag all over my hands, soft and young.

Of course.

Fly, husband. Be some little girl’s kite. Ask Aragustus to blow you up again. It’s not my job to hang you in my window for all time.

END

[springvaletales]

((I....don’t remember if I ever posted this before? But I found it in the google docs, and it’s blog-relevant, so here it is. Not proof-read and un-beta’d, so be warned.))

The Archfey had told him to ‘try and make friends’, and he had.

He thought he had nothing left to lose, after all, and if he was going to be trapped here for the rest of his life, then he may as well try to make the best of it. There hadn’t been many others in the Grove who were his age, so Michael had been given a bed in a dormitory with a few others who were a handful of years older. That wasn’t a problem for him; he was used to traveling with adults, and he knew the rules already (be quiet, don’t speak unless spoken to, do what you’re told, etc.).

But they hadn’t wanted a child for a roommate, and had gone out of their way to avoid him at meals, put lizards under his blankets, and ditch him among the library’s maze-like shelves. It wasn’t a big deal, he told himself. He preferred eating alone, anyway, and once he learned to look for the lizard tails sticking out from under the covers, it wasn’t such a hard task to catch them, and release them back into the surrounding Feywilds. He learned to navigate the library with his eyes closed, and was content to just keep his mouth shut.

This was fine, Michael told himself. So what if he felt lonelier than ever? He had a roof over his head, three square meals a day, and no longer had to fear what monster or criminal he’d have to go out and fight that day. This was better. This was fine.

But his roommates didn’t agree - and despite his best efforts - had decided that their lizards and library pranks were no longer making their point…which is how, one night, he found himself dragged from his bed and hung from the branches of an apple tree, tied upside-down by his ankles in only his nightclothes.

An hour of defiant struggling had gotten his hands free, and after another, he’d gotten one leg free, as well. By then, the blood was starting to rush to his head, and he was starting to feel woozy, and sorry for himself. Michael wanted to cry and scream; wanted to kick at the tree in rage, and wail like the child he hadn’t gotten to be. But his roommates might still have been watching, and a very petty part of him hadn’t wanted to give them the satisfaction of seeing him self-destruct.

He’d been trying to work up the energy to lean up, and try to untie the remaining rope, when the branches suddenly creaked.

“Hey.” The fire genasi woman crouched down on the branches, apple in hand as she looked down at the struggling youth. “First time getting strung up?” She asked before taking a bite of the apple. Michael only stared at her, and hissed a breath through his teeth. He had seen her before, though never up close - she was one of the warlocks who had been offered a gift of Power from their benefactor. He’d never talked to one of the warlocks before - his roommates always said they were ‘too far above him’ to bother.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, I guess.” The woman took another bite of her apple and stood up before stepping off the branch, and jumping to the ground with an eerie sort of grace and lightness, despite the rack of antlers that sprouted from her head. “What did you do to get all strung up?” She laughed, and bent down to look him in the eye from where he hung. “Put lizards in someone’s bed? Pop rocks in someone’s drink? Tried too hard to make some grouchy bastard smile?”

“....” Michael felt his throat tighten, and squeezed his eyes shut. No, he hadn’t put lizards in anyone’s bed - he’d been the one fishing them out of his own sheets. And he hadn’t put anything in anyone’s food (what a waste that would be). But he had tried too hard, and look where it had gotten him.

“Oh. Hey…no. Don’t do that.” A hand wiped at the tears on his face. Michael stifled a sob, and hated himself for it. “Okay, okay, you’re not ready to laugh, I get the point. Here,” The woman dropped her half-eaten apple, and climbed up the nearest tree trunk to reach the branches above. “I’ll get you down, just hang on…”

A few minutes later, Michael was sitting against the roots of the apple tree, right-side up once more, but no less upset. The woman - Ena, as she had introduced herself - was sitting beside him, munching on another apple plucked from the tree. She hadn’t said much as he’d cried like a child; at most, she’d placed a comforting arm around his shoulders, at times, and Michael had just been too tired to shrug it off.

“Feeling better?” Ena asked after a few more minutes of sniffling. In response, Michael curled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. “Mmm…guess not.” She took another bite of her apple, and leaned back against the tree. “Look, kiddo, I know it’s hard, when you first come here. You’re in a strange place, you’ve gone through a hard time, you might miss some of the people you left behind-”

“I don’t miss them.” Michael suddenly snapped. Ena fell silent. “They sold me to this place - like I was so much junk that had been weighing them down. I don’t miss them.” His throat closed up again, and he ground his teeth together in an inward snarl before burying his face in his knees.

If he didn’t miss Caradec, and Abzug, and Yatah, and Stor, then why did it hurt so much to say so?

.......

After another minute, he felt Ena’s arm across his shoulders again. This time, he was too tired to even tense, and only tried not to cry too loudly.

[writing-in-a-chipotle]

Unbearably Mortal (Part 2)

(Alcina Dimitrescu x gender neutral reader)

Part 1

Words: ~2.5 K

Summary: In which a lot of things happen and none of them are good.

A/N: Hey, y’all! Back at it again with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

“Nope nope nope nope… no way in hell…” You shook your head violently, unable to process what Mary had said. “This is… this is all some sort of elaborate prank, right? You’re messing with me. Yeah.” You swallowed. Your saliva felt like acid.

Mary grimaced. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. This is very much reality.”

“So… what are they then?” You began pacing the floor, anxiety clinging to the pit of your stomach. “You expect me to believe that they’re some sort of weird, blood-sucking vampires?? You must be out of your mind… they don’t exist! They can’t be real!”

Mary stood up and walked over to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. With her blocking your path, you were forced to stop pacing and look at her.

“Listen,” She began, eyes gleaming with fear “I have no need to lie to you. Believe whatever you want to believe, for the only thing on the line right now is your head. Jane and I risked our lives to save you. If we were caught, all of us would have died. So, are you going to freak out and get yourself killed, or are you gonna listen to me?”

You were stunned into silence. Mary was being deathly serious. You nodded shakily.

“Good.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “If you had a mental breakdown and they heard…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to either; the implication was horrifying enough as it was.

“Thank you, by the way,” you sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “you really didn’t have to save me.”

“Honestly, I’m still scared out of my mind,” she admitted breathily, “but I’m glad you’re better now.”

“Thanks.”

She hummed, then pursed her lips. Her frown deepened even more. “Well… now what do we do? The Dimitrescu family is notorious for slaughtering any trespassers they find.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. “Oh no… oh no, no, no…”

You were stuck. You were stuck in a terrifying castle with horrifying, blood-sucking monsters who would gladly turn you into a mangled corpse on their living room floor. You had no way to call for help, and your parents probably didn’t even know what was happening…

Your phone.

You patted your pockets and fished through them. Let’s see: some dirt, a crumpled flight itinerary, your house keys… aha!

“...what’s in the box?” Mary asked, “I don't think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

You blinked. Box? “Oh, this? It’s my phone.” You rotated it slowly in your fingers so she could easily see all its sides. “It’s a bit larger and blockier than your average iPhone because it’s designed to connect directly to the satellite, making it easy to call anyone from anywhere in the world. It cost me a lot of money, but since I was planning on traveling the world after I graduated, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it a few years early.”

Mary gave you a completely confused stare. “What’s an… iPhone? Or a sad-del-light? Did you make those up?”

You frowned, your eyebrow twitching in confusion. “Uh… no? I wouldn’t make anything like this up. You… you truly don’t know what modern technology is like?”

She shook her head. “I’ve… never been outside the village. I have no idea what the rest of the world is like.”

“And you don’t have a phone? Internet? Anything??”

“I’m afraid not,” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, “the Lords don’t allow anyone to leave the village or write letters to the outside world.”

A chill shot up your spine. “That’s… terrifying…”

Mary nodded, then tilted her head, thinking. She pursed her lips and motioned with her finger for you to come closer. You lean your ear to her.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“There are rumors of a girl who escaped the Lord’s wrath,” she began, “apparently, she managed to leave the village unharmed. There was an old hag who used to moan about how her daughter left her for a new life. She sounded half mad, so no one bothered listening to her.”

Your grandmother. She was talking about your grandmother.

And your mom.

This meant that… your mom knew about these crazy monsters? That she let you come here, to a place where you would most likely die? Alone??

Nothing made sense anymore.

You realized you had zoned out of Mary’s story. You shook your head, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” You blinked. Mary was staring at you like you were an idiot. (Which you were, but that’s not the point.)

“I said,” she repeated, “you need to blend in until we can figure out how to escape.”

“That’s… that’s a pretty good idea. And wait….” you repeated her words in your mind. “We? You want to come too?”

“Goddess, it’s like you’re dense or something.” Mary muttered under her breath. “Of course I want to leave! Are you out of your mi-“

“I get it, I get it,” you huffed, interrupting her, “What do we do now?”

“Now,” she folded her arms, “we need to get you a disguise.” She walked over to a tiny dresser in the far corner and pulled out a neatly-folded maid’s uniform. “I hope you’re my size.”

————————

Turns out you weren’t Mary’s size.

You couldn’t help it; your new friend was practically a walking stick. Your shoulders were too broad, your legs too long; but with Mary’s excellent sewing skills, you were able to make it work… sort of.

“Damn, this uniform is itchy,” you complained, scratching at the neckline.

“You’ll grow used to it after a while,” Mary replied. “Now we need to get to work or-“

“We’ll be made into wine. Got it.” You straightened out your sleeves.

She nodded. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you walked quickly and quietly out of the servant’s quarters. Your heart was racing. Every time you turned a corner, you half expected a bloodied monster to jump the both of you and tear out your arteries.

You rounded another bend and nearly walked into Mary. She had stopped suddenly and immediately fled to the side of the hallway, bowing deeply at the corridor. You quickly followed her lead.

The moment you bowed your head, a steady buzzing filled your ears.

Swarms of flies flitted through your vision as they flew down the hall, buzzing excitedly. Maliciously. You don’t know how they managed to convey such emotions, but they seemed…. off.

And then, they changed.

The insects spiraled and spun into a large, buzzing mass, sewing themselves into a completely different form; one with a deep black cloak, ghoulishly pale hands, wild blonde hair…

And blood-stained teeth.

Mary curtsied deeply and you were quick to follow suit. “Good evening, Lady Bela,” she said softly, refusing to look up, “how may we be of service?”

Bela gave a bored wave of her hand. “We’re a bit... short-staffed in the kitchens at the moment,” she drawled, “Mother doesn’t want dinner to be served a second too late. She-” Her eyes fell on you and she stopped dead in her tracks. “You smell familiar, human…” she growled.

Oh no, you were dead, you were dead, you were dead. Cold sweat fell from your neck, and your heart raced. Bela stepped closer to you, brows furrowed and hungry eyes glinting.

“They’re new, Lady Bela,” Maria said quickly.

She raised an immaculate brow. “New, you say?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“... I see.”

It was only a moment before she leaned away, but to you, it felt like hours. The Dimitrescu was a terrifyingly deadly whirlwind, one that seemed to stare directly into your soul… maybe even smell your fear. Bela’s lips twitched, giving you a glimpse of sharp fangs.

“Well then, newcomer,” she hissed, amusement dripping in her voice, “if you’re so eager to serve us, I want you to pour the wine.”

Your heart raced in panic, your hands shaking. Pouring the wine meant seeing these monsters at their most bloodthirsty. It meant you would get caught.

I won’t survive, you thought fearfully.

You quickly dropped into a clumsy curtsy before you forgot yourself. “A-as you wish, Lady Bela,” you choke out.

“Hm… we’ll see, won’t we.” She dissolved into a sea of flies and flew down the hallway and out of sight.

You breathed heavily. Your heart was still going a mile a minute. Before you could say anything, Mary grabbed your arm and tugged you along.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” she hissed. “Not yet.”

You followed her silently to the kitchen. This whole situation was too hard to process… you’d barely been in Romania for a day and you suddenly had to face the reality of your imminent death.

You felt lightheaded. Your vision swam.

“Where are you, draga mea?” A smooth, enchanting voice swirled in your mind. You felt your pulse hammering in your temples. The voice sounded so close, yet so far away. It was familiar and warm… but it was too hard to tell if it meant anything. You were too woozy, too lightheaded…

“It’s time to wake up, darling,” the voice continued dreamily, “Open your eyes for me?”

“...hey… hey!” A familiar voice hissed, “hello? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Mary stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. Once she saw you move, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you alright? You haven’t blinked for the past few minutes, nor have you responded to anything or anyone around you.”

“Yeah, I just…” you swallowed thickly. What was wrong with you? “... I just spaced out.” Mary frowned, giving you a suspicious glance, but didn’t push.

You were in the kitchen. Cooks and maids bustled around in an organized fashion, whispering instructions to each other while slicing, cooking, and plating bright red slabs of meat. You definitely didn’t want to know what kind the Dimitrescu’s were eating tonight.

Someone grabbed your arm and you flinched, turning around. It was one of the older cooks, a salt and pepper haired woman with soot-stained clothes and greasy calloused hands. She shoved a a bottle of wine into your hands so fast, you nearly dropped it. She glowered at you.

“As soon as the meal is served, you pop open the bottle and pour for everyone.” She hurriedly rattled off instructions. “When they finish their drink, pour them another. You do not look at them, you do not touch them or their glasses, you don’t even breathe around them. And for the love of the Goddess: Do. Not. Spill.”

You gulped and nodded. You just had to do your job, then leave. That’s all. You could do this.

Or so you told yourself.

The old woman gave you a quick look, and for a moment it seemed she gave you a twinge of a sympathetic smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced by her signature scowl.

“Alright, we go in three…” she held up three fingers covered in burn scars. One second passed. Then another.

The kitchen maids smoothly entered the dining room in one sweeping motion; a flurry of skirts and iron serving trays. You followed them close behind. The maids placed the trays in front of each Dimitrescu before fleeing to the kitchen single file.

And then it hit you.

You were the only maid who was supposed to stay throughout the entire meal.

Without you even knowing it, Bela had assigned you one of the most dangerous jobs at the castle; one where you had to stay, alone, in the same room as four hungry, bloodthirsty vampires.

You quickly began pouring the wine.

You walked around the massive mahogany table, trying your best not to spill the blood-red drink. You poured for Bela first, and you tried your absolute best not to look her in the eye. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw her grinning.

You moved on to the next Dimitrescu: a redhead with glistening fangs. As you poured, she suddenly hissed. In your surprise, you fumbled the bottle. But you didn’t spill.

The last sister (you assumed all three of them were sisters based on their similar appearances) was a brunette with mischievous eyes. You didn’t mean to look at her… you really didn’t…

Based on her low, rumbling cackle, you knew you were doomed.

The last Dimitrescu, the Lady Dimitrescu, was much different than the other three. She was incredibly tall, with a flowing white dress that fell to her ankles, a wide-brimmed hat…

And pearly-white satin gloves.

Why did that seem so familiar?

You shook your head. You had to stop thinking and just pour the wine! You only had one more glass to fill, after all.

The brunette stuck out her foot, and you went down.

You landed on top of the bottle, and it shattered under you. Glass and wine flew everywhere, piercing your clothes, slicing your skin, staining the rug…

And completely drenching the front of Lady Dimitrescu’s immaculate dress.

The air cracked with electricity. “You...” she hissed, in a stranglely familiar voice.

Before you could even beg for forgiveness, the towering terror of a woman stood from the table and grasped you by the collar before you could even blink.

She growled, breath smelling of blood. “You will pay for your insole-“ her breath hitched. Her death grip on you loosened and faded, till you dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Fearfully, you looked up at her.

Her demeanor had completely changed. Where once stood a cold-hearted monster was a shocked, crying… woman. Tears streaked down her face, dripping from her chin as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t look like a monster, she looked… human.

The lady reached out a gloved hand, then flinched as if burned. She looked lost and confused and sad; unable to process what she was looking at… or rather, who she was looking at.

A chill ran up your spine, fearful tendrils snaking through your system as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

And then, Lady Dimitrescu uttered a single word, barely a whisper at all, and your stomach dropped. Your world spun.

“Y/N?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything you had ever known was completely useless, and your life would end at any moment, you were sure. You felt like crying, you felt like throwing up.

She said your name.

Lady Dimitrescu, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, who couldn’t possibly know who you were, had said your name.

It was too much. There were too many strong emotions, too many near-death experiences in one day. Your body was bloody and exhausted, your energy spent.

You collapsed on the dining room floor, and your vision faded to black.

[rebrandedbard]

A little drabble exchange for @theamazingbard that accidentally became more of a ficlet. Threw in a little hispanic nursery rhyme since I don’t know if we have them in english for making pain go away. I tried googling but it was unhelpful. 

TW: Descriptions of blood, drinking it, gross stuff like that. Canon-typical wounds. References to drinking and inebriation.

WC: 2617

Lips Black as the Rose

Featuring highervampire!Jaskier as he tries to figure himself out after being turned. A bit of spice in there. Am I picking and choosing parts of the lore as I see fit? Yes. Is it very sexy of me to do so? One hundred percent. Will I beta this before posting? Oh absolutely not, you know the drill. ‘No beta, we die like men and get our shit wrecked in the comments’ is my go-to Ao3 tag for a reason.

-

Under no circumstances would Jaskier ever cause harm to another living thing, but the world did not reciprocate that exact philosophy. He’d been chased and held at the business end of many a sword, dagger, lance, and—on several unfortunately memorable occasions—a startling variety of available flatware. Things were rougher after meeting Geralt and having his usual human pursuers overshadowed by the threat of monsters.

Where once a spoon in the hands of a rabid duke would seem a most threatening opponent, Jaskier now found himself on the run from a more literal array of rabid beasts, and he could quote the running speeds the prove that having an extra pair of legs did indeed give certain monsters a leg up, so to speak, on the competition. But then, having no legs at all could prove a better advantage, and such creatures as those often had the additional advantage of long, venomous teeth.

Suffice to say, it was a difficult thing to be a lover in a world of fighters. Particularly when one falls into the company of another presumed lover, only to discover that their invitation to dinner was, in truth, an invitation to be dinner.

A vampire. Young, wine drunk, and foolish, Jaskier allowed himself to be led into the vampire’s den. It had been many years ago, he no longer remembered the details. He only remembered a sharp pain on his shoulder, followed by a woozy numbness, and he awoke in a strange bed, in an inn he did not check into, with his reflection missing from the mirror. He’d run away from home shortly after, fearing a bloodlust that was never to come.

It was a strange thing, being a vampire. After months of research, Jaskier came to no conclusions as to what it meant to be one exactly. He experimented with the content of old myths, touching silver very cautiously, taking delicate bites of foods prepared with garlic. He could cross a river just as well as any man. All in all, there was not much wrong with him, and he wondered what all the fuss was about. Well, there was a bit of fuss in that he could no longer be sure of his appearance, and he’d become more vain than ever, relying on the opinions of others to assure him that he looked presentable. This was a particular bother where Geralt was concerned, for he rarely paid compliments—if ever—and was not inclined to offer opinions concerning such trifling things as fashion or appearances.

Jaskier felt sure that Geralt would have noticed right away, but when their paths crossed again, Geralt seemed entirely ignorant of Jaskier’s dramatic change in biology. Running his tongue over his teeth, he could find no fangs. People complimented him on his eyes, still cooing over how bright and blue they were; and he’d been so afraid they’d turned a ghastly red as in the stories. From what he could tell, he appeared human. He had no violent urges to drain the blood from red-cheeked virgins, nor had he transformed into a bat and flown into the night. Sunlight only burned his skin as much as it had before, though it might have been harder on his eyes. He found himself squinting more in the afternoon, and it was unpleasant hot at times.

All in all, he was relatively normal.

“Such beauty ought to be preserved evermore.” That was what the vampire had told him that night. A great favor, immortality, but he wished he might have been offered a list of instructions to go with it. Figuring things out on his own was exasperating. And though he was not quite compelled to drink blood, there were times when he was … drawn. By curiosity.

When Geralt returned from a hunt, his flesh torn and body bleeding, Jaskier found it challenging to tend his wounds. Many times, he’d almost given into temptation. It did not help that he’d wanted to know the taste of Geralt’s skin long before the transformation. Now, there was an intoxicating layer to the fantasy, and the smell of Geralt’s blood made him hazy, like the bouquet of a strong wine. Or more realistically, the cloud of bitter vodka. If it had been a particularly nasty fight, Jaskier was sure he could taste Geralt’s blood by the smell alone, so powerful it made his nose wrinkle. He could get drunk on the fumes, and it was not always so pleasant.

He never dared try. There were too many things to consider. For a start, there was no telling what the blood of a witcher would do to him—and that was before factoring potions into the equation. Having never fed of blood, Jaskier did not know how his instincts would react, and he was sure he had some animal instinct to him now. He might drain Geralt dry in a matter of minutes, or the taste of blood might make him go insane and start tearing at his surroundings like a mad beast! Or, simplest and frightening of all, Geralt might kill him. So Jaskier kept his secret, never giving in to his curiosity.

But one day, he’d slipped.

“Fuck,” Geralt grunted. He clenched his hand and a sharp smell pervaded the air. In sharpening his sword, his hand had slipped. He’d cut the meat of his palm, just above his wrist.

Jaskier was up at once, Geralt’s bag in hand, ready to wrap the wound. He was very quick these days in getting things bundled up as soon as possible. Once the wounds were wrapped, the smell was not as pronounced. He fished out a strip of cloth and had it round Geralt’s hand in a matter of moments, working efficiently with good practice.

Geralt smiled ruefully. “A clean wound, at least. Should stitch itself up by morning.” He chuckled and inspected the wound, his eyes flicking over to Jaskier. “Haven’t done that since I was a child sharpening my first dagger,” he said.

“Did you cut yourself often in training?” Jaskier asked.

“No, not so often. We didn’t waste wrappings on such small scrapes either.”

There was a distracting shadow of red seeping through the cloth. Jaskier scoffed. “So you let it bleed into the open air, did you?”

“We were less inclined to coddle than humans.”

“Coddle?” Jaskier said, raising an offended hand to his chest. “My dear, a dressing is hardly evidence of coddling. If I wished to coddle you, I’d kiss it better and sing a little chant.”

Geralt presented his hand to Jaskier, smirking humorously. “Then do it. I’ve never heard of humans having such power as to kiss wounds better. Would save me a lot of trouble.”

“Erm … ” Jaskier flushed, considering the proffered wound. He nearly made a joke about lacking such power, being no longer human, but he bit it back. To cover his hesitation, he took Geralt’s hand and gently sang the rhyme his nurse used to calm him after a scraped elbow or knee. His tongue rolled musically as he rubbed the dressing carefully. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.” Then he bent his head down to kiss the place.

“I don’t see what frogs’ tails have to do with my hand,” Geralt joked.

But Jaskier did not hear him. Instead, he felt oddly fixed in place, a metallic tang on the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth slightly, closed it, and licked at his bottom lip to chase the memory of the taste. As he did, his tongue scraped the end of a long, pointed tooth. He stumbled back unsteadily, muttered his excuses, and fled to the safety of his bedroll across camp. There he sat, writing nonsense in his notebook as though struck by sudden inspiration.

He’d tasted Geralt’s blood. And now he wanted more.

The next few hunts were blessedly without injury. Jaskier found he was able to breathe again. It twisted his gut whenever Geralt went off to fulfill a contract, and his conscience was at odds with this new obsession. He wanted Geralt to come back whole and unharmed. But he wanted some cut, some smallest scrape upon which to lathe his tongue. When he thought of it, he felt a stirring in his gums, and touching the place, he found the fangs had grown in again. It took concentration to hide them again. He took to smiling with his mouth closed after the first incident, and he developed a habit of biting his lips.

When they came to a larger town, Jaskier went straight to the butcher. To quell his growing need, he bought fresh meat, sneaking a sip from the blood dish beneath the draining sheep’s carcass while the butcher’s back was turned. It had the strangest effect on him. Within minutes of leaving the butcher’s shop, he felt light-headed. He felt drunk, in short, and he wobbled his way to the inn, a giggle in his throat.

For dinner, he asked the potmaid to send the loin to the cook and surprised Geralt with it: a small treat to celebrate his recent hunting success. In truth, he wanted nothing to do with it, festering in the shame of his lie. The loin had merely been an excuse: something to keep the butcher busy while he drank his curiosity like some writhing leech dredged up from the water.

It made him drunk. He made note of it in his book and swore that would be the end of things. This odd affair made it easy to forget, his stomach turning in guilt and disgust at the thought of repeating the act. He was fine and healthy without blood, therefore there was no need to partake. He could go the rest of his life perfectly happy never drinking another drop. Until the day it fell from Geralt’s lip.

Jaskier stared at it from across the room. Geralt had just returned from a fight, his eyes and blood black with potion. His armour was scratched up, covered in foulness from monsters unknown, but he was alive and whole, hardly bruised. Jaskier tried to focus on the smell of the guts dripping from his armour. It was still as disgusting as ever, even with vampiric senses to influence his opinion. The wretched blood was still unappetizing. But above it, he smelled a strange scent: sweet, a touch of iron. And there, shining on Geralt’s lip, the wet glisten of blood.

He swallowed hard as Geralt wiped the cut on the back of his hand. The blood smudged along his chin, all the more enticing. His knuckles turned white on the sheet of his bed as he held himself in place. Ordinarily, he would be up on his feet to help coax Geralt out of his armour by now, but he did not trust himself to be so close.

Geralt shed his shoulder pads, looking at Jaskier from the corner of his eye. “It’s a bit slippery,” he said. He inclined his head, beckoning Jaskier over. That was their way. They did not ask things from one another. It was simple routine, and the brief lapse was something awkward to acknowledge.

What excuses could he provide? Jaskier stood on trembling legs and made his way, biting his own lip to hide the fangs he felt beginning to grow. His fingers were clumsy as he fumbled with the clasps, far too close to Geralt’s face. His breath caught, watching a bead of dark blood roll down his lip, over his chin. His lip was stained black.

Geralt had always had nice lips, Jaskier felt. He was always reminded torturously of this fact when he helped Geralt out of his armour. How could one undress such a man without indulging in the fantasy of what came after, even a little? But oh, it was a dangerous line of thought. Now he was bewitched by his senses, his focus single-mindedly drawn to that point on Geralt’s lip. To kiss him now, to lick the blood from his lip—it would be divine. He felt his heart beat faster at the prospect, his hands stalling to unbuckle Geralt’s breastplate as he stared. Just one taste. One kiss was all he wanted.

A hand pressed against his chest, stopping him short. Jaskier startled out of his unconscious reverie and looked at Geralt in horror. He hadn’t—! Had he? His attention flicked between Geralt’s eyes and his lip, and to his relief, the blood remained untouched.

“Not just now,” Geralt said, voice rumbling in his chest. “The potions might paralyze you—at least for a day. Anything lesser would die from a drink of it. It turns my blood to poison.”

Jaskier blinked, edging back. “I … don’t understand your meaning,” he feigned.

Geralt followed him, stepping forward. He raised a hand, caressing Jaskier’s cheek gently. “I know,” he said. “You’re not the best at keeping secrets. I noticed some time ago you stopped aging, and there’s no shadow at your feet, even on the brightest afternoon.”

He swiped his thumb over Jaskier’s bottom lip. Jaskier gasped, his lips parting, and Geralt pushed in. Then, his thumb was pushing Jaskier’s top lip away, revealing a glistening fang. He nodded, satisfied, and stepped back once more.

“You’re a vampire,” Geralt said. “And not a common one either. My medallion doesn’t react to you at all.” He chuckled and added, “As if you could be common by any measure.”

Jaskier turned away, picking up one of Geralt’s shoulder pads. He clutched it to his chest, whether for protection or for comfort he could not say. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was afraid to tell you … afraid what you might say. What you … might do.”

A warm hand smoothed down his arm comfortingly. There was a teasing quality to Geralt’s voice when he spoke. A hand wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, making him nearly jump in surprise.

“In regards to what: the knowledge that you’re a vampire, or the knowledge that you want to kiss me?” Geralt asked, words hot against Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier shivered, the adrenaline of his fear quickly turning to something sweeter. “Both,” he sighed. He closed his eyes, trying to focus, to understand Geralt’s intent.

“You cannot drink of me tonight,” Geralt whispered, “but I can satisfy that other hunger, if you only have the discipline to keep your teeth to yourself.”

“What are you saying, Geralt?” The way Geralt’s hand slipped lower and lower down his front, Jaskier thought he knew. Even so …

Geralt chuckled, nose pressing to the back of Jaskier’s neck. “I’m saying I’m tired of the way you look at me like a man starving and refuse to do something about it. It’s gotten worse. It was bad enough before, waiting for you to make your move, but since your turning, it’s insufferable. I feel like the centerpiece of a banquet, waiting to be devoured.”

“You said I couldn’t kiss you,” Jaskier said, breath coming up short as he felt himself pressed back against a firm chest, a second hand coming up to tug at the edge of his chemise. “I have no discipline whatsoever. And you know that.”

“Well then.”

Jaskier dropped the plate of armour as he was pushed backward. He fell, his knees caught by the edge of the bed. Arms caged him on either side, and above him. Geralt smiled, a drop of blood falling onto the sheets below. He pressed his thumb to Jaskier’s mouth once more, something ravenous in his eyes.

“Well then,” he repeated. “Looks like I’ll have to devour you instead.”

[thewriterowl]

Ok owl, I challenge your incredible creativity and ask you for some Mermaid!Luke headcannon.

Din could be a sailor, a marine biologist, whatever you want, Grogu obviously loves fish.

ooh ok, so much yes.

So Luke has a bit of Ariel in him. He's just a very curious guy and loves to learn about new things. Now it's in the modern era and mermaids are far more aware of humans and their lives and try to steer clear of it. Things are so polluted and there are so many greedy things that is just no worth coming out to meet them (and can't blame them really). But Luke is fascinated!

So he lives on the pacific west coast, maybe by Oregon and Washington. OR even he's a cold merman and lives in Alaska. Probably Alaska...Din really seems like he'd be an Alaska guy. Either way, it's somewhere a little more quiet and remote and not quite as dirty. Well, Din is a close-shore fisherman and maybe owns his own little pub where he sells his fish and cooks them too. He is saving up money so Grogu could leave and go to college (probably to become a marine biologist himself cause he does love the water and the animals) when he is older...not for a long time cause Grogu isn't even three yet...but by god, Din is gonna get this kid the best life and options there are.

Luke sees Din a few times on the boat and he's infatuated instantly. He watches over what he does and how he treats his son when he is on the boat, teaching him everything of the sea and how to take but also respect and give back. His deep voice rumbling out wisdom to the child just makes Like head over fin.

Now, mermaids can use magic and grow legs but they can't be out of the water for more than two days or they'd start to get weak and could die pretty fast but painfully. Some days he is very tempted to do that and go and meet Din but other days he is too shy and too worried about fitting in. He had been taught to, as there may be time for him to do so, but he wasn't sure he could manage.

But one day it is just becoming too much and he has to be able to say hello to the man, at least once. So he speaks with a contact on the shore who has a life, a merman who married a human and was exiled for it (but was very happy), to get advice. Kenobi is super happy for his good friend Luke to want this and offers to take him into town at Din's place to give him a bit of a taste of the human life and be close to the man. His husband (Jango or Cody, have your pick) is a bit protective and goes with them. Boba (son or nephew) is close friends with Din and so that would give them an in. They would call Luke a family friend just visiting. Perfect! A quiet in and a quiet out (yeah, right, if Jango/Cody knows anything this will not be simple or quiet and Luke would be very, very noticed).

So they come in, and Luke is clinging to Kenobi's shirt, looking round all wide-eyed, probably looking more city boy than anything. Kenobi sat them down in the corner to just let the world sink in.

Luke is chatting excitedly, enjoying his first time on the surface but was a bit woozy for his first time out of the water and so on. But he is pretty much beaming and he hasn't even seen Din yet.

Well, Din certainly has seen him though, and is probably about to catch everything on fire because he is not paying any attention. He was completely out of touch when he sees Luke come in. I mean how could he not? Luke looked to be practically glowing (and he is, his skin does that, in the right light you could probably see glistening blues and purples and greens under his eyes, around his jaw, or on his neck), with pretty pale-blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and very lovely arms and waist. Who the hell could pay attention with that around?

Din is finally dragged from the back to the table to meet the strange little blonde. They boy got really flustered around each other and looked away and Kenobi, the brat, gets out of his seat and pushes Din to sit down and now they have no idea what to do.

They talk and Luke doesn't really know what to say since, you know, his history is involved living in the sea and all that. Kenobi fills in pieces and just pushed the fact that Luke is a bit shy and all of that. And hey, you probably should get back to work now, eh Din? How about you come for a visit tomorrow and bring Grogu? And Din, still blinded sided by Luke, just nods and agrees.

So, they come for a visit and then Din keeps coming to visit Luke...and it's like an every day thing. And Luke visits him and Din takes him on the boat and Grogu is just in awe over Luke who makes up the most amazing stories about the sea and palaces under water and sea-creatures that were big like monsters but super nice and...ok, so Din may be a little in love.

My belief is that one day the waters get really choppy and a storm hits out of nowhere and Grogu is knock off the boat. Din tries to get in but Luke dives in first. Grogu is saved but because Luke is back in the water his form reverts and now Din is gaping at the man (who looks even more ethereal) with a tail as blue as his eyes where his legs had been and...ok, he might faint. He does faint.

Kenobi explains everything to him while Luke kind hides out in the water, panicked and thinking Din was going to hate him. Din is just like, "What do you mean my not-quite boyfriend, someone I so have not been planning our marriage since the start, who of course I haven't thought of asking about moving in and adopting about three more kids, who may or may not, but totally not, owns my heart and I'd kill for, is a friggen MERMAID??....WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE TOO?!"

Jango/Cody just smacks him upside the head. Kenobi says that's hypocritical cause he didn't handle it much better (but it was better!!) either.

Well Din goes to find Luke and is able to, and is still sort of struck by how pretty (and crazy) he was in his mer-form and promises he doesn't hate Luke nor is disgusted he was just schooled...and his kid had nearly drowned so it wasn't just Luke having a tail.

Maybe for drama Giedon finds out and steals Luke but doesn't know about how Luke needs to be back in water or will die and now Din has to go save him or Palpatine is some cruel sea-witch who wants something of Luke's and all sort of stuff could be added in.

Either way! They do live happily ever after on the coast, Luke teaching Grogu so much about sea-life, and him able to get into the sea anytime he needs to, and Din just growing accustomed that he has married a merman and he's all good with that. Kenobi and his husband are neighbors and everything is wonderful and domestic and fluffy.

Also what I love? SelkieLuke too--that has a lot of possibilities!

[brutal-nemesis]

Saltwater Day 2021: Dinner Date with an Eel 💕

Feel that ocean breeze, baby! Cries in lives in a very landlocked area I hope y’all are having some fun in the salty spray ✨Today we finally get to see a Castys misadventure that I’ve talked about in the tags before: the big boy drowning incident! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the agony <3

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning, animal attack, self harm to escape danger, sort of self amputation, gore, broken bones, suicide for convenience (immortal)

Castys had jumped off of higher cliffs before. Granted, he had done it because he was too lazy to walk to the bottom, and he’d landed on solid rock, and it had been very painful for all of two seconds, so this didn’t make him any less terrified of being shoved off of this one. And yes, that’s right, he was going to be shoved off of this one, into the crashing waves below, which was certainly how he’d planned on spending the morning. Nothing better to start the day than a pointless execution!

Oh, but why are you being executed, Castys, you’re so good and noble and also immortal so this isn’t going to work is it. No, no it’s not going to work. And Castys was being “executed” because, well...turns out people don’t take too kindly to finding out you’re the dreaded Pirate King Ragnarok. As usual, he’d fought and tried to get away, and as usual he’d failed miserably. So here he was, wrists chained together behind his back, ankles chained to a stupidly large rock, and a cloth tied tightly around his mouth.

He tried not to think about having to deal with this arrangement once he was underwater, which was something he was less than excited for. There was already quite a large crowd gathered so, hey, at least he was popular. Actually, scratch that, based on the looks he was getting, he was definitely unpopular. He shifted a bit, causing the men gripping his arms to tighten their grasp. He huffed, wishing he had the ability to tell them to chill the fuck out.

“People of Meruna, we are gathered her today for the execution of the notorious-“ oh my FUCK nevermind just push him off already this whole thing was already bad enough without a speech about all his crimes and whatever. Not that he didn’t love hearing about his exploits, because fuck if he regretted any of it, but the sun was hot and he was tired of standing. That water was going to feel so good...until it was filling his lungs ugh nope don’t think about it like that he was just going for a nice swim that’s all. He was going to be in the nice, cool water without any of these assholes glaring at him, and he’d get out of these chains somehow and come back in ten years and release all their goats and that would show them.

All of a sudden, the hands on him started to push him towards the edge of the cliff, a third guard rolling the rock he was chained to along using her foot. Fuck, fuck the speech was over they were doing it he was going over the edge he’d just been joking earlier he really didn’t want to even if the water would feel good he’d rather stand out here all day because that sure as hell was better than drowning over and over and over the edge the air was rushing by the top of the cliff was getting farther and farther away any second now he-

Castys screamed into the gag as he slammed into the cold water, wasting his last breath of air like an idiot before he started to sink beneath the crashing waves, pulled down by the boulder attached to his ankles. He could only squirm uselessly as he sank deeper and deeper, the soaked-through gag filling his mouth with the taste of saltwater, just to make things even more unpleasant. His arms were killing him, and, you know what, they took the brunt of the impact with the water, so they were probably fucking broken, weren’t they? At least they would heal after...after he drowned for the first time. Already his lungs were starting to burn, but thankfully the rock had finally hit the bottom, so he wouldn’t sink any further and therefore the painful pressure on his ears wasn’t going to get any worse, at the very least. 

Positives, positives, since he was probably going to be here for a while...it wasn’t so stupidly hot anymore, instead it was stupidly cold, and already his fingers were starting to go numb-nope, nope, not a positive, let’s try again. It was rather pretty down here, despite the fact that black spots were starting to cloud his vision, and also things were starting to get kinda...woozy, a little bit, a little, hell-o and goodbye, wasn’t it time now? Yeah, yes, the burning was too much it hurt hurt hurt everything was black and black was good bec-

He didn’t bother counting how many times he drowned. Maybe it would have helped pass the time or something, but, let’s be real, there were better things to focus on than how many times he’d experienced the horrible burning in his lungs and that awful lightheadedness. His broken arms had healed up, so that was something, but they were still very much shackled behind his back. If they were free he could at least get that stupid gag out of his mouth and try to fuck with the chain connecting his ankles to that dumb rock. He settled for looking around the underwater landscape surrounding him, glad that sunset was still a ways off. As far as he could tell.

When he could see and think clearly, it was kind of cool to be down here, circumstances aside. All sorts of fish, many of them varieties that he knew what they tasted like, swam around between the wavy water plants. There was even a really big lookin’ boy off in the distance that he’d seen out of the corner of his eye a few times, though it was coming closer now, and he was just starting to be able to make out...wait-was that a-great. Absolutely fantastic, just what he needed. A fucking shreilian eel. How dare he drown over and over in peace, no, no let’s add a vicious man-eating monster to the mix! At least he wasn’t bleeding, so the creature wouldn’t be immediately drawn to him. He’d get to keep his limbs intact for a little longer-wait wait wait. Okay that was absolutely crazy and sounds entirely unfun, but...it might just work.

Castys mustered as much strength as he could, ignoring the ever-present burning of his lungs, and began to clumsily bash himself against the nearby wall of stone. It was coated in barnacles and the like, but their sharp edges were just what he was looking for. Soon enough, he felt the awful sting of saltwater in the many small cuts that were now littering his arm. Fuck, that was nowhere near enough blood to get that eel over here, and his vision was starting to go dark. If he didn’t get that damn thing over here now he’d die and heal and have to do this bullshit all over again no no no get over here you stupid thing fuck yeah that feels like a nice gash it burns to high hell but so does everything and look at all that bloody water or maybe it’s just getting too dark because it is dark and...so...hurt…

When he came back to life, there was a small cloud of blood swirling in the water around him, but it was dissipating more and more by the second. He couldn’t see the eel anywhere, and if that bastard disappeared on him after all that...Instinctively, he tried to take a deep breath and ended up sucking a bunch of water up his nose like an absolute idiot, his nostrils now burning just as much as his even more waterlogged lungs. His body tried to cough, but it was just painful and useless like everything else he’d done while stuck down here, and he just ended up thrashing around like an injured fish.

Just what the eel had been waiting for.

It felt like he’d suddenly been hit by a mace, slamming him into the rocks, his arm lighting up with the pain of a thousand hot spikes, almost too intense for him to even process, the salty water magnifying every little agony tenfold. Castys was certain he would have been screaming if he had the air, and as much as this was absolutely fucking terrible, he hoped the eel would do it again. It had bitten off a good chunk of his arm as far as he could tell, but not enough to completely sever it and free him from the restraints. And for once, his horrid luck regarding avoiding pain paid off. The eel rammed into him again, ripping off more of his arm with its razor-sharp teeth and causing the bones of his forearm to crack. 

Sensing his chance, Castys grabbed the manacled wrist of his shredded arm with his good hand, bit down on the gag, and pulled. He couldn’t give up, couldn’t stop, not after enduring this much, he could feel his flesh tearing, sending out sparks of agony unlike anything he’d ever known, and he had to keep pulling, pulling and jerking and tearing and twisting and praying, praying that he could rip it off before he drowned again, which, hey, kind of a weird thing to want, not that he hadn’t had to amputate his own limbs before, but weird that it was happening again, and honestly, this hurt way more than the other times, but wasn’t that always the case-and fuck there was no way he was going to be able to just snap his bones like this, and he needed it to be completely severed, and there was no time, wedge it against the rocks and pull pull pull until there was a snap and a burst of unholy agony, so intense it almost smothered the relief, so fierce it made him forget he was drowning up until the moment his oxygen-starved brain lost consciousness. 

Castys’s arms were free. Well, one was free, and the other one was still manacled, attached to...what was left over after all that. He ripped the gag out of his mouth, resisting the urge to suck in mouthfuls of air that were absolutely not there. Looking down at his ankles, he wasn’t sure if-his body exploded with pain as the eel rammed into him again, taking a chunk of flesh from his side, which was definitely not where he wanted to be bitten. Gritting his teeth against the anguish that almost consumed him, he grabbed the wrist of his severed arm and clumsily smeared blood around his ankles, hoping it would entice the monster to attack them and help set him free. 

It worked, and it didn’t. The eel attacked him again and again, no longer pausing in between bites to circle him. Castys wasn’t even sure where it was biting him anymore, he just knew that everything hurt, the saltwater in his wounds magnifying the pain so much that there was no discernible source. He didn’t try to fight the eel off, hoping it would just do enough damage to his legs that he could get free, but he wasn’t sure if he could have even tried to get it away from him if he wanted to. Things were getting so dizzy so fast, all of a sudden, there was nothing to do but wait and die and hurt…

When he came back to life, Castys was disappointed to find that he was not floating to the surface. In fact, one of his ankles felt kind of weird, like it wasn’t shackled anymore, but still...for fuck’s sake. One of his ankles had been freed, torn enough to shreds before he’d died that the manacle had come off, but the other one was...well the manacle wasn’t around his ankle so much as it was…in his ankle. How the fuck that had happened, he had no clue. He just knew he had to deal with it. Looking around, the eel wasn’t anywhere to be seen, probably full to bursting after its meal, and though his heart sank a little at the thought that he couldn’t rely on it anymore, he was also slightly relieved, because that thing had been vicious. It had, however, left a parting gift. He swam downwards and grabbed the smooth fang off of the sandy ocean bottom, gripping it tightly. Just a little bit more. 

He had endured so much already, felt pain more intense, experienced sensations more gruesome, but this...this was more active than everything else that had happened down here. More visible. He had to make every stab and slice deliberately, had to watch the tooth do its damage, it wasn’t mindless bashing or praying he’d get bitten in the right places, but an active choice to cut his flesh away, inviting burning seawater into a wound once again, and it was difficult. Part of him wanted to stop, take a break, please, I don’t want to have to do this anymore, I want to let go, just for a little bit, please, but he knew he couldn’t, because he had to get this done before he drowned again or he’d have to start the whole damn thing over. 

Relief like he’d never known washed over him as he finally managed to worm the manacle out of his shredded ankle and he felt himself start to rise. The lightheadedness was getting worse, and he wasn’t sure if he’d make it in time, so he wormed his finger into the pouch around his neck and let the death stone’s magic take him before the lack of air could. He was still rising when he came back to, and he propelled himself towards the surface with renewed strength, despite the pain of his ears popping and the odd ache in his joints. 

Finally, blessedly, he made it to the surface, and air had never tasted so fucking good. Not that it wasn’t salty, but it wasn’t as salty as saltwater, and he sucked as much of it as he could into his waterlogged lungs. He looked up at the cliff towering over him, now painted with the orange of sunset instead of the gold of sunrise. He...he had been down there all day just...downing. And getting eaten. Kinda fucked. Seeing a nearby rock, he swam over to it and scampered on top, collapsing on its damp surface as he coughed up far too much fucking seawater. Fuck, his head was spinning and his joints hurt, like they probably would have if he could grow old. Well, nothing that one last death can’t fix, now that he was finally on land again.

Castys opened his eyes and sat up, feeling perfectly fine besides the awful, salty taste in his mouth. He looked over at the cliff smugly. Those bastards had tried to get rid of him for good, and they’d failed miserably. He folded down his middle fingers and placed his thumbs over them, a rude gesture in this part of the world. Seeing the remnant of his arm dangling from the manacle still attached to his left wrist, he had a devilishly gruesome idea. 

The next morning, the whole town was awoken by the screams of a young couple who had gone out for a stroll.

Right there, in the middle of the town square, was part of a crudely severed arm, its fingers frozen in an obscene gesture, its skin slimy and already starting to slip off. A manacle was clamped around its wrist, attached by a short chain to the other one, which had been broken open. 

The execution had failed, and that heinous pirate had escaped.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words

[hearts-hunger]

ciryc ca’tra (cold night sky): chapter four || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

Series Summary: When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe under the cold night sky. || Part One of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: It’s the spiders one y’all :(

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst | Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: spiders :(

A/N: I tried to make the action fun to read and not too lengthy, and reader’s inner monologue gives it an angle that’s a little different from what you see in the episode. Let me know how I did! ♡

“Go, go! Back to the ship!”

Your husband appeared in front of you, beskar blocking the view of the horrific beast that gnashed its teeth and screeched loud enough to shake the icicles off the ceiling. It grounded you, seeing only him; you let him take you by the hand and pull you towards the cavern entrance. You held your baby tightly to you, his fearful cries enough to keep you focused on getting him away from that thing at any cost. 

Din pushed you in front of him, bringing up the rear as you fled the cavern now overrun with spiders. The huge, monstrous one loomed over them all, covering the distance between its cave and you in only a few steps. It snapped at Din, barely missing him as the four of you ran into the cave that led to the ship. The beast howled; the swarm of smaller spiders answered in kind and flooded the cave with their deathly shrieks.

Suddenly, the ceiling was falling - you looked back over your shoulder and saw the giant spider’s legs come crashing through the ice above, raining great shards of ice and rock onto the surge of spiders below. For the moment it seemed trapped; you didn’t have time to be thankful before you saw the seething wave of spiders that followed over the rubble, some no bigger than your hand and some as large as Din.

Your husband drew his blaster as the spiders started to surround you; the red flashes of each shot that took out one spider illuminated a dozen more to take its place. You felt a wave of hysteria so strong it nearly took your breath away, and you grabbed onto Din’s cloak like a lifeline and stumbled after him as he tried to clear a path through the maze of spider-ridden ice. 

You couldn’t tell if you were hallucinating or not, but the frog lady started to leap on all fours ahead of you; Din navigated the winding cave with as much care as he could, constantly looking back to make sure you were with him. The shadow of the giant spider overhead threw the cave into near darkness, and you felt Din’s hand on your arm, pulling you in front of him. When he let you go, you called his name in panic; you saw three bright red lights in his hand, then saw him throw them back behind you.

Bombs, your woozy senses registered. Din pushed you forward before he threw the last one, grunting with effort as he ran and tossed it as far back in the chamber as he could.

The explosion blinded you, and you were pulled forward as the spider’s shriek echoed with the sound of falling ice. You almost wished the flash had lasted longer as you saw the groping, teeming piles of spiders converging from every side; you nearly smacked into Din as he came to a halt, desperately looking around for an exit. He fired a few more shots, but there seemed to be an endless swarm of them; Din held his forearm in front of him, as if bracing for a blow, and you had enough presence of mind to step back and shield the baby with your body.

The sound of his flamethrower crested as the blue flame lit on his vambrace, and suddenly the whole cave was brilliant with a roaring fire. You staggered towards the cave entrance, Din right on your heels; you heard his blaster fire almost continually as you finally came out into the cavern where your ship lay. You had never been so glad to see such a wrecked piece of metal in all your life, and sprinted towards the Crest with your son held tight against you.

You ducked inside the hull, feeling a sense of relief you knew was coming too quickly, too strongly; you watched the frog lady take her eggs from Din and haul them up to the second level. You waited for your husband to come in through the split in the siding, but he didn’t come; he fired his blaster over and over until all you heard was its ringing bark and the teeming sounds of the spiders. You knew you should go up but found yourself rooted to the spot; you had to see your husband come in, and you would not move until you did.

A loud thunk against the hull, and Din gave a painful groan; another determined grunt of effort came through his modulator and was followed by another round of blaster fire. A second later, he stumbled through the split metal, followed by a steady stream of spiders.

“Go!” he told you, firing his blaster a few more times while he urged you towards the ladder. He boosted you up and followed you into the cockpit, shooting at the spiders as they swarmed up the ladder. He tried to close the cockpit doors; they strained against the limbs and bodies that struggled to get through, groaning metal against seething, sharp-toothed monsters. 

Din tried to force the doors shut with one hand and fired his blaster with the other, dagger-like legs and teeth cutting into his hands. A few spiders got through, skittering over the walls to where you stood clutching your baby to your chest; you felt a cry of terror and disgust claw at your throat as the terrible things dangled from the ceiling and crawled over the walls. 

In a sudden flash of clarity, you reached behind you to the compartment where you kept your pocket blaster; you fished it out one handed and gripped it tightly, like Din had taught you, aiming for the spiders that seemed ready to jump at you. The sound of it was tinny compared to Din’s blaster, but it did the job, splattering the spiders in bits of green slime all over the walls.

Din looked back at you, surprised at the sound of other gunfire; he only hesitated for a moment before he turned back to the doors and aimed his flamethrower through the gap, charbroiling the spiders as they tried to get through. After a few moments of the roaring fire, it seemed to finally work; the doors groaned shut and Din shut off the flamethrower, each breath panting and unsteady.

The peace only lasted for a heartbeat as hordes of spiders came rushing from the cave, scuttling over the Crest like an infestation of the broken hull. You backed away from the windshield as hundreds of spiders teemed and clicked over the glass, feeling nauseous; you felt Din behind you and reached blindly until you felt his arm, crumpling the fabric of his flight suit in your grip. 

“Strap yourselves in,” Din ordered, and you could hear the fear that colored his voice even through his modulator. He steered you to the passenger chair closest to you, a little rough in his haste, but you weren’t sure you could have done anything on your own as the spiders’ movements became so vast and so loud that it sounded like the fine debris of an asteroid field. 

You pulled the seat belt over you and the baby with shaking hands as Din turned the ship on.

“This better work,” he prayed to nobody, powering up the Crest in a way much more frantic and sloppy than you’d ever seen. His attention to the Crest was a little like that of a man to his lover, and you knew it hurt him to have to treat his beloved ship so carelessly. The ship creaked and groaned as it powered up, nursed back a feeble semblance of life by Din’s repair but by no means fully functioning.

“I’ve got limited visibility,” Din said, looking through the foggy, frost-covered glass to the chittering limbs above. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

He muscled the lever for the main thrusters, breaking through a thin sheen of ice to put it into position; the engines flared to life, bright orange flames dancing over the walls of the cavern, the familiar jerk of the ship pushing you back in your seat. With a valiant, heaving effort, the Crest gave its last bit of strength to lift itself out of the ice, rocking and shaking with exertion. You had a bright, furious surge of hope - maybe you would get off this frozen planet, maybe - 

Something huge fell on the top of the Crest, the force of it knocking the wind out of you and nearly slamming you into the dash. The Crest shuddered to the ground, landing harder than it had the first time it crashed into the ice; the shrieking roar of the giant spider was so loud you covered the baby’s ears as the sound echoed through the cavern.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you said hoarsely, your little one’s cries of fear tearing at you. Then, before you knew it consciously, your body sensed something - you curled around your baby and shielded him from the monstrous silvery claw that shattered the glass and struck the floor of the cockpit.

You could only watch in abject horror as the beast loomed over the cockpit of the Crest, its grotesque eyes peering through the broken glass at you.

“Din,” you managed, and you felt his hand on your knee. You had the wrenching thought that you’d never planned what to say to your husband at the very last, perhaps hoping that your end would come a little more peacefully than this, and hoped he knew how much you loved him.

The monster reared and opened its gaping maw towards the Crest, and you knew you were going to faint.

You must have blacked out for a second, dark spots dancing across your vision, and you came to woozy and shaking with terror. The monster’s jaw suctioned to the glass, its teeth raking over the only thing shielding your husband and your baby from certain death; you kissed your little one’s head and squeezed your eyes shut as you gripped Din’s hand as tightly as you could.

The sudden, unmistakable sound of laser-cannon fire filled the cavern, and your eyes flew open to see the red beams sparking where they hit the spider’s body. It howled in pain and landed heavily on the cockpit, sliding off the side as the cannons continued to fire. Din let go of your hand - you looked up at him, out of your mind with fear and confusion, and watched him unholster his blaster and open the cockpit doors.

“Wait, Din,” you called, your voice cracked and pitiful. The baby called after him too, but he didn’t turn back to you, and you had the awful feeling that watching him stride out of the broken cockpit would be the last you ever saw of him. Everything was washed in red light as the laser cannons fired continuously; then, suddenly, they stopped, and everything was deathly quiet.

“We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest,” a voice finally said, and it wasn’t your husband’s. You hastily unbuckled yourself and moved to look out through the glass; the baby watched too, giving a wondering coo at the scene below.

Eight-legged bodies littered the ground, oozing green fluid onto the murky grey snow. The same pair of X-Wings that had chased you onto this frozen rock were a few paces away, their pilots aiming their blasters towards the Crest’s smoking hull; Din stood in the beams of their headlights, blaster lowered cautiously in the way that told you he wouldn't hesitate to raise it again at a moment’s notice.

“You have an arrest warrant,” the pilot continued. You recognized him as the same one who’d asked for your beacon at the checkpoint. “A warrant for the abduction of prisoner X-6-9-11.”

That cursed Twi’lek, who’d been more trouble than he was worth from the first moment Din had set foot on that transport ship. You held your breath and waited for the pilot to continue.

“However, onboard security records show that you apprehended three priority culprits from the wanted register,” the pilot said. “Security records also show that you put your own life in harm’s way to try to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps. Is this true?”

Din holstered his blaster. “Am I under arrest?” he asked, exhaustion and resignation in his voice even as he refused to confirm or deny the truth about Lieutenant Davan.

“Technically, you should be,” the pilot answered. Then, after a moment, “but these are trying times.”

Din took a breath. “What say I forgo the bounties on these three criminals, and you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?”

You knew it was a long shot, but it was better than not asking at all. Maybe you would finally have a stroke of luck in all this.

The pilots didn’t take kindly to his offer. “What say you fix that transponder, and we don’t vaporize that antique the next time we patrol the Rim?”

Without waiting for an answer, the pilots returned to their cockpits; a moment later, with the sound of their engines echoing through the cavern, they had left Din, the wreckage of his ship, and the passengers they hadn’t even known about to whatever thread of fate might occur on such a frozen, unforgiving planet.

Read chapter five!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​, @stardust-galaxies​ ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven​, @sarahjkl82-blog​, @remmysbounty​, @bitchin-beskar​​ ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[autistic-singer515]

Pinky and the Brain’s argument and the Brain’s capture.

Here’s another scene I want in Animaniacs season 2 or 3. That’s when Pinky and the Brain argued about Julia and then about their feelings and then Julia captured Brain to tie and gag him up and then try to drown him.

Transcript:

The Brain opened the window to try to escape Julia’s tree house with Pinky. Snow bursted out of the window inside the house.

The Brain: “Come on, Pinky! Let’s get back to the lab! We have to get out of here before Julia sees us!”

But the Brain noticed that Pinky just stood there. Looking worried. He wondered what was going on with him.

Why was he standing there?

Pinky: “But Brain, what about Julia? You promised you would help her! A promise is a promise is a promise! Remember?”

The Brain couldn’t believe what Pinky was saying.

Why does he still have feelings for an abusing jerk like Julia?

The Brain thought Pinky would change his views on Julia after she abused him badly.

The Brain slammed the window shut in frustration.

The Brain: “Pinky, she abused you! She’s pure evil! You’re bruised and you’re bleeding! She captured you to try to lure me in! To kill me! Heck! Even kill you too! Sometimes promises aren’t meant to keep! This is Stockholm syndrome! Are you more insane?! You can’t trust her! Why would you trust someone so evil and untrustworthy?!”

Pinky’s anger flared at the Brain’s hypocrisy.

Pinky: “But you abused me too! You started this whole mess! Doesn’t that make you evil too, Brain? Julia’s hurt and sad!”

The Brain’s anger grew larger and he growled.

How could Pinky say things like that to him?

Does he want him to get killed by Julia so badly after finding out what he did to her?

Now the Brain realized that Pinky wasn’t a simple simpleton. He’s stupid for trusting abusive jerks like Julia. He would have believed Julia’s phony pleas. He doesn’t even understand his desire for world conquest. He was just pretending to do so to make him feel helpless by making him fail on purpose and then betray him after that. He doesn’t even care about him.

That traitor!......

“He’s never even confessed his love for me either!....” thought the Brain, feeling betrayed.

The Brain: “Well if Julia is more important than me.... Then stay here! Stay with your old girlfriend!”

The Brain turned his back on Pinky sadly and angrily. He remembered what his future self had told him about Pinky being a traitor at every turn. He failed at world domination because of him. He should’ve known better not to trust anyone. He would eventually get hurt and betrayed because of this. The scientists, Snowball, Julia and now Pinky.

The Brain: “I don’t really need you anyway! You’re too stupid! You’re just here to ruin my plans and then betray me! Do you really hate me? Maybe my future self was right! You are just using me!”

Pinky’s eyes filled with tears.

How could Brain say such a thing?

Pinky thought the Brain was more trusting of him than that.

Pinky: “Brain, it’s not true! I may not be as smart as you.... But I know that you have been a lot meaner lately! Anger is all you’re feeling!”

Pinky’s heart hurts while saying that.

Pinky: “You’re hiding your true feelings for me! It’s making you worse!”

Pinky sobbed his heart out very noisily. Tears spilled out of his blue eyes like a little fountain.

Where was the kinder Brain he knew and loved?

Pinky could tell that the Brain isn’t okay. He just knew it.

How Pinky wished he knew how to fix the Brain’s broken heart even if he’s not that smart.

The Brain’s eyes widened at the realization that Pinky was right. He was holding back his feelings for Pinky. He watched his friends tears dropping on the floor one by one. Deep down, the Brain regretted saying those mean things to Pinky. He didn’t really mean it. He was conditioned into thinking that his friend would betray him like teaming up with Julia. Then the Brain realized that every time he blocked himself, his behaviour grew worse and worse for 2 decades. Why can’t he show enough love?!

Could Pinky be telling the truth?

Pinky was so tired of the Brain hiding his true feelings. He was tired of being abused and neglected because of it. He was tired of letting the Brain getting away with his behaviour for so long that he felt good telling him off.

Pinky: “Your little game of pretend is really getting old fast!”

But the Brain knew not to get over sentimental. Pinky must be setting him up. He just knew it! He remembered that terrible feeling of helplessness and hurt from long ago. He just couldn’t go through that again. His change of behaviour must mean he grew smarter. Pinky must have gone stupider! He doesn’t even know which way was left and right even if his life depended on it. ‘Pinky must be toying with my emotions to lure me to Julia! thought the Brain. Like a helpless fish! My emotions are the bait!”

The Brain: “Pinky, what do you know about my feelings? What do you know about love?”

Pinky: “A lot more than you’ll ever know! The one who doesn’t understand love is you! I know you’re here to save me! Not because of food pellets! It’s because you have feelings for me! I just want to fix your broken soul just like you fixed my toy!”

Pinky looked at the Brain’s stoic expression. He’s still concealing his feelings. Could Julia be right about him all along? Maybe the Brain doesn’t love him. Maybe he was pretending to be nice to him just so he could use him for world domination until he has no use of him anymore. Maybe he was here for the food pellets. Or could Julia be wrong? So Pinky decided to ask him this.

Pinky: “Or do you even love me to begin with? Do you hate me, Brain? Are you just using me? Did you really meant to hurt people? Like Julia said?”

Pinky turned his back on the Brain tearfully. He was feeling doubtful he would answer something he wanted to hear. He knew he was too stubborn. Maybe it would be best that they weren’t friends after all. But at the same time, he couldn’t leave the Brain alone, angry and possibly sad. But he knew he was doing the right thing.

The Brain’s eyes widened again after he saw Pinky’s seemingly truthful and tearful eyes.

How could Pinky ask him this?

The Brain was so confused. He didn’t know what to do. He was still as a statue. He knew that saying I tolerate you wouldn’t be enough to get Pinky back. It’s either saying I love you and then help Julia or saying I hate you and not help Julia and let his friend stay with her and then hurt more peoples feelings.

The Brain’s heart started to pound intensely. His hand shook. He sweated profusely. He gulped nervously. He was speechless. He didn’t know how to answer Pinky. He didn’t want to be alone and let Pinky suffer alone with Julia. He never meant to hurt people. But at the same time, he still didn’t want to feel helpless and weak if he told Pinky his true feelings. That could lead to betrayal and hurt. But at the same time, he had to try to confess as he saw love and concern for him in Pinky’s eyes.

The pain from concealing his emotions and from loneliness was starting to get more intense for the Brain that he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“I must try....” thought the Brain desperately.

The Brain: “Pinky.... I.... I....

Pinky turned to his friend and noticed that his eyes were very confused and anxious but loving and concerning for him. He was struggling to confess to him. But it was still difficult for him. He’s trying to overcome his trauma. Pinky’s eyes widened and gasped in his mind.

“Brain’s eyes is still telling me that he loves me!” thought Pinky. “That same concerned expression he once showed me is really coming back!”

Then Pinky saw a shadow lurking behind the Brain.

Julia!

The Brain: “I.... well you see, Pinky..... I....”

Pinky gasped fearfully.

Pinky: “Brain, look out!”

The Brain wondered what his friend was yelling about. Then he felt someone’s breath in his ear. He turned and realized too late that Julia was too close behind him. She had a cloth on her hand. She was chuckling. She placed the cloth to his mouth and nose.

The Brain: “ He-!”

Julia: “Time for your little nap, monster! You won’t escape me! Neither of you will.... I refuse to let you hurt Pinky again!”

The Brain’s mind became fuzzy and lightheaded. His eyes began to swirl. Everything was spinning around him. He smiled idiotically.

Julia: “Just as I thought..... Brain doesn’t love you, Pinky! He’s using you like you are his mindless slave!”

Pinky realized that Julia saw him and Brain arguing with her camera tv.

How could he forget that?

The Brain moved around as if he was drunk and then collapsed on the floor heavily.

Pinky rushed to the dizzy and tired Brain’s side. He shook him desperately to snap him out of his trance.

Pinky: “Brain! Don’t fall asleep right now! Julia’s after you!”

The woozy Brain moaned and groaned as he continued to see everything spinning around him, including Pinky and Julia.

Julia: “Too late, Pinky! He’s mine now! He won’t harm you, use you or hate you anymore! We’ll take over the world together! Together without Brain!”

Pinky continued shaking the Brain desperately.

Pinky: “Brain! Brain! Brain! Brain! This is no time for nappy wappy’s! Brain! Brain!”

Julia grabbed the rope from the hook on the wall. She slowly walked towards the Brain with a nasty and scary smile. Her defective chip on her left ear electricuted her mind. But she ignored the pain. She was too pleased at finally getting even with the Brain. She looked at Pinky reassuringly.

Julia: “We can get rid of all the bad people and animals and toons in the world! Only the good survives! After that, we’ll make the world a better place for all!”

Then she looked down at the dizzy Brain. He was on the verge of sleeping.

Julia: “As for you, Brain, you tyrant! You will drown in your own sorrows just like I did in mine! But literally! Very literally!

The Brain couldn’t make out what everyone was saying about him. Their words were too jumbled. Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Julia laughed evilly. Pinky continued shaking the Brain to try to wake him up.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

I'm now cursed with this image: Itty bitty cameraman falling ill with fever and feeling unwell all day after a freak accident at a film studio. He's so out of it that Miss Twisted and Brute get legitimately concerned and confine him to a bed all day before he hurts himself. Come nightfall he still doesn't feel well so the others go call a doctor and maybe find a safe way to bring down his fever. While they're out of the room Cameraman goes through a transformation scene straight out of an american werewolf in london, and turns into a mindless towering projector monster. He smashes through a window and escapes into the city to cause chaos, much to the shock and confusion of his two roomies who just thought he had the flu.

I read this thinking ‘damn I should write something about this’ and I couldn’t help myself:

At first, Cameraman’s behavior when he got back was nothing too out of the ordinary. It was normal for the film critic criminal to sulk over a failed plan (and maybe take a drink or two before returning).

Especially when said plan involved a film studio that had, in his words; “Not only made and reinforced terrible stereotypes but had also spat in the very eyes of the art of movie making and kicked it in the shins repeatedly by only hashing out the exact same sloppily made horror flick every year and slapping ‘remastered’ or some other trash like that on the title.”

At first, the other members of the Society for the Shellacking of Souper Boris were fine with letting him sulk in his workshop for most of the day while planning on doing something to cheer him up later, but usually, even when it gets bad, these sulk fests never included coughing fits.

“ARGH!” The camera-headed crook crumpled up the blueprints for his failed machine and threw them in the trash so hard that it knocked the can over, spilling the contents all over the floor of his workshop area. “S-stupid ‘Maze of the heart ripper’ series, stupid Olden Arch Studios, stupid- *HAAAAACKK!* *COUGH!* *CoUgH!* *cOUgh!* *COugH!* *COUGH!* *COUGH!*”

“Brute brought back fire fuel! Missy and I wanted to- CAMERAMAN?!”

The Brute walked into the scene of Cameraman coughing so hard that he was flopping around on the trashy floor as if he were a live fish on a hot pan. The large wolf imminently dropped the stack of the ‘maze of the heart ripper’ movie reels (that were stolen of course, the three wouldn’t dare give a single penny of support to THOSE types of movies.) and rushed over to help his friend up.

“...Cameraman okay?”

“Ự̺̺̞U̼̮͓̪u̺̪̰u̘͚̺̗̟̻̰u̦̪̪̘̰ͅuuU̷͍̠̲̰̰̪̩U̧̬͓͇Ù̼̺͈̠͇͓̩u҉͓̩̳u̻̩̰̟̮͉̲ų̹̖̫̜̜̤g̞͈̗̼̟̞͖͝g̤̯G̷̻͎̣̙g̝̘̗̫̺͘g̞͓̱̲̖̞ͅG̵̘̦̩͇̗̱G̛͓̠͔̱̳̯g͉͍͖̖̥ͅh͔̲̬̗͇̮̟̀ẖ̡͖̱h̼̬̖͕h͎H̭̬͍͓̭̣̳H̹͍̳͍͓H̟̪̪H͖̜̗̱́h̭h̹͔̤͓h̘͍̪̤.̣̹͖̖͍.͚̳͈̗̞.̖̫̘͜”

The toon swayed and staggered as he clutched onto his wolf roommate’s paw.

“I-I͢'͞ve͡ *COugh!* ̸ńev҉e̵r fe̷lt ̕bette̡r͏!͟ In fact, I’m not going to let that sorry excuse for a horror move studio let it see another moment’s worth of peace! All I need is to make a few adjustments to the blueprints and- HE-H-HEY! Brute! put me down!”

The Brute shook his head as he carried Cameraman out of his workshop and up to his room.

“Cameraman sick and needs rest, not vengeance.”

“But I’m *HAACCKK!!* *COUGH!* fine!” Cameraman fruitlessly struggled against the wolf’s grip. “It’s just some dust! I probably got some caught when the studio partly collapsed.”

“Then why leaking black fluid out speaker? And why head feel like hot stove?”

“Okay, so maybe I am *COUGH!* a little bit overheated, but not by much! They’re already weakened, I did make *HAAACK* a dent in their precious studio but if I really want *REICH!* to do some damage, then I need to get back there and *COugh!* *COUgh!* *coUGH!*”

“Cameraman flopped on floor like dying trout, and is still flopping now. Me think it bad idea to let you wreak havoc right now. Go sleep.”

The demoness sprang down from the ceiling with a mildly annoyed but quizzical expression on her face.

“What’s with all the racket you two? I could hear you all the way from the roof!”

“Cameraman has flu and needs sleep.”

The giant wolf calmly remarked before readjusting his cargo while giving a suspicious look to the fresh stain on his fur, a stain that smelled kinda like some weird type of ink to him, or oil? He was not an expert on the strange smells that emanate from mysterious dark liquids that started oozing out of his friends.

“...And maybe doctor.”

“No *HAAAACK!* I don’t!”

“Aww... poor little Cammy...” Miss Twisted sympathetically patted the camera headed toon on the shoulder. “I know how much it sucks to get sick when you want to make the fools who wronged you suffer, but health must come first, or else evil can’t prosper!”

“I’m the *REICH!* very picture of health!”

...

Cameraman struggled against the straps used to keep him in bed as he looked for a way out of this trap that didn’t involve shooting his room apart.

“How ma-*COUGH*COUGH*-ny times do I have to keep saying it?!” he uselessly pleaded “I’m *COUGH!* perfectly fine!”

Miss Twisted did not look convinced as she continued to tighten his restraints.

“Cam, even if you weren’t burning, leaking, staggering, or coughing your head off, you jumped out of a third-story window and were planning to swim back to the studio. If you weren’t sick, you’d know that that is a terrible idea.”

“But I-”

“No buts! Now please just get some rest! The studio will still be there to be razed to the ground after you feel better.”

The demoness left the disgruntled camera’s room as she planned to call the doctor.

“It’s just a cough!” he called out after her. “You’d *HAAACK!* get one too you’d crawl through dusty air vests for an hour! I swear that place puts just as much effort into it’s cleaning as it does it’s scripts and research!”

She didn’t call back to him, possibly already on the phone talking to a doctor that didn’t need to be called in the first place.

“Can this day possibly get any worse?!” he grumbled to himself. “My beautiful machine that was meant to show them REAL horror instead got busted, that blasted studio’s still standing, my roommates have been freaking out all day over a cough-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THINGS MERCIFUL!”

Where just mere seconds ago he felt a little woozy from coughing so much, the pain suddenly hit him like a jackhammer.

“AAAAAAARRRRRGHH!!!! *pant* I- *pant* I’M BURNING! I- I’M-”

The already tight restraints grew even tighter for him, making hard for the little fellow to breathe until-

*RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!*

Cameraman felt like his body was on fire, he felt like his bones were all being broken at once but his agonizing pain was nothing compared to the sheer fear that he felt looking down at his restraints and his gloves and shoes ripping off due to the sheer massive size of his changing body.

“W-WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

Maybe he wouldn’t mind getting a growth spurt or two, but this was too much! The now werewolf-esc toon staggered off of his bed in fear it would break from his new size and assumed weight, clawing at the nearest wall to steady himself as he felt his spine popping like popcorn as he grew.

“HELP ME! SOMEBODY MAKE THIS STOP!”

Well, whatever force behind this was at least somewhat considerate, he stopped growing but he didn’t stop changing. He looked to his shaking hands that now more closely resembled hairless paws, complete with claws and ‘beans’. A million thoughts were rolling through Cameraman’s head, a million possible answers, and a million things that he should have done to prevent this, but the more he thought, the less any of those thoughts made sense.

“W̕H̀Ỳ ̧̧I̢S̵̢͟ ͝TH̴̀I̡S̸҉ H̡ĄP̀Ṕ̸͝È̢N͘I̛͟Ń͏͢G͠҉̶ ͘T͢O ̵̵͠M͏E̵?̷͡!̢͠”

It was getting harder and harder for him to think, his brain had might as well have been melting! He tried his hardest to think of a solution to his problem until he heard and felt something *SNAP* off of his head and he looked to the floor to see that both his flash and his film reel had been popped off of him. And with them, went all his worries. The creature didn’t need to think. At least, it didn’t need to think anywhere as much as it’s old form did, all that he needed was to kill and maim those who had wronged it. They didn’t need their hearts, so it might as well take it for them.

“W̴̡W̸R̢͟R̵͜R͠͝R͘R̸R̸R̴͡R̴͢ŔR̛R͏̧͏Ŕ̨̛R͏R͏̷͘R͏̴R̛R̢̧͝R̴̢R̶̢͟ŖR͘R͞R͠͠R͘͞͏R͏̧R̡̀RR̵̨R͜͡Y͟Ỳ̴͡Ỳ̕̕Ý͢͏Y̸̴Y̕͟!̸͘!̸̢!͜!̴̨͝“

[glenngaylord]

Broman Holiday - Film Review: Luca ★★★★

Picture a story of two young men who meet in an Italian village one fateful summer.  They share a strong bond, but circumstances seem fated to drive them apart. Bicycles get ridden. Sun-dappled scenery evokes pure romance. Peaches, or perhaps peach gelato, may or may not play a role. You’d find yourself forgiven for immediately thinking of a certain Oscar-nominated film from a few years ago, but who would have imagined the same scenario applying to the new Pixar movie, Luca? In the battle of text and subtext, Luca finds that sweet spot between a cute family adventure and an unabashedly LGBTQIA+ budding romance.

Enrico Casarosa makes his feature directing debut, and along with co-writers Jesse Andrews and Mike Jones, gives us Luca Paguro (Jacob Tremblay), a 13-year-old sea monster who, in the 1950s, spends his days herding fish and coming home to his parents Daniela (Maya Rudolph) and Lorenzo (Jim Gaffigan). They constantly warn Luca to stay away from the dangerous world above their undersea environs. Naturally, or else goodbye movie, Luca meets Alberto (Jack Dylan Grazer) who coaxes Luca to the surface, where their bodies take on human form. With a secret only spoiled if they get wet again, the boys seek out all the thrills and spills denied them in their natural habitat.  In a delightful sequence, we find them building and crashing janky Vespa prototypes. They crash at their new friend Giulia’s house and learn of a triathlon competition consisting of bicycling, pasta eating, and the dreaded swimming leg. If they win, they can buy a real, if busted, Vespa, and Broman Holiday it up until the dog days of August. Add a town bully who looks and acts just like Dancing With The Stars judge Bruno Tonioli and scene stealing roles from Napoleon Dynamite legend, Sandy Martin as Luca’s droll Grandma, and Sasha Baron Cohen as his loopy Uncle Ugo, and you have an unpretentious delight for all ages.

Those who can sniff out the undercurrents (pardon the Dad joke pun), however, will see Luca as a thinly veiled coming-out/gay love story. With its lush score by Dan Romer and its rainbow-colored gallery of hues and tones, you may find this the perfect setting for a same sex connection. It’s the male version of The Little Mermaid with a Pride month release date.

Try watching Luca and Alberto stand arm in arm as they take in a beautiful sunset without wanting to shout, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” at the screen. You don’t have to squint to recognize the parallels to gay-themed films in which the fear of being discovered or living authentically with someone you love play a major part.  Even Giulia has that tomboy Peppermint Patty quality to complete this platonic trio’s oh so woozy, eye-contact filled rush of same sex loving vibes. The inclusion of a character with a disability in the form of Guilia’s father Massimo adds to the film’s way of coloring outside the lines.

Those expecting the grandeur of such Pixar triumphs as Toy Story or Finding Nemo may feel disappointed in this decidedly low-key effort, but it’s the small scale and unfussy animation which actually made me love it more. The visuals may not feel as eye-popping as past fare, but this adorable, fast-paced, funny tale earns its gorgeous final shot, a bittersweet moment of longing and freedom.

[tanjhero-a]

Life’s Trials to Meeting You

Pairing: Tanjirou x You (Gender Neutral Reader)

Prompt: Soulmates - Shared Scars 

Word Count: 4,502 (wow!! thats 11 fucking pages on docs yall. my god)

A/N: This is my fic based off the results of the poll! This fic was originally made as a celebration for 60 followers, and since then, this blog now has 130! I’m very thankful and flattered so many of you are here. I hope you all enjoy this rather lengthy fic- I had a lot of fun writing it!

You’ve lived your whole life in moderate peace. You lived in a modest household with several siblings and your father. Life was dull, but it was safe. Your house was in the middle of a small town and you visited the same shops every day and talked to the same people. 

You yearned for more. To travel out of town and meet someone new, do something new, something… exciting. You voiced this want to your sisters, but never your father. He loved you dearly, you knew, which is why he wanted you to live your modest and easy life. There was no danger in that.

But your father was a fool. Danger lurked everywhere, especially where you don’t expect it. It stays there, hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike. And finally, danger did come- in the form of a fierce demon that ate its way through the village in a single night. Your father had you take your sisters and run into the forest for help, making you leave him behind ultimately for his own death. 

Most of your sisters didn’t make it. One of them refused to leave father behind, and another one didn’t stick close to you and got lost in the ruins of your town before she was gobbled up. Your last sister, Tamako, was only three, and she was only safe because you held her so, so tightly in your arms as you kept running far from what used to be your home. 

Eventually, the adrenaline to stay alive wore out and you stumbled your way to a beautiful tree. Your vision was fuzzy as you forced your tired limbs to climb it, your sister holding you close on your back. The purple, beautiful flowers bloomed everywhere around the tree and hid both of you somewhat effectively. “We’ll be safe here,” you assured Tamako and situated her in your lap. “The flowers will keep us safe.” 

You really didn’t know that you were actually incredibly lucky and that the Wisteria tree you hid in warded off demons- you just prayed that the demon was full and wouldn’t kill any more of your family. You held Tamako all night as she cried, and though you felt like crying yourself, you kept the tears at bay. 

You had to be strong now. There was no other way.

---

When you awoke the next morning, it was because of Tamako’s cries. You immediately jolted to see what was wrong, only to wince and cry out in pain. She was crying because of the blood staining your shirt, which happened to be the problem. 

Did you get hurt last night and not even notice?

“It’s okay, Tamako, it’s okay!” It wasn’t, but what else could you say? Your body felt woozy still, probably from blood loss, but you still collected her in your arms. “We’ll be okay. We’ll find the next town and get help and food. Aren’t you hungry?”

The change in subject seemed to calm her down. She sniffles, snot smeared across her face which you wipe off with your sleeve gently. “..yeah.” 

“Me too,” you smile. “Get on my back, Tamako, then I’ll climb down.”

She clings to you tightly as you do so, and your feet slip a few times as you work your way down the trunk. Now that you’re aware of the gash in your side, it burns and screams with each move you make. Your just glad your sister can’t see the pain on your face as you finally make it to the ground with a loud groan.

“Okay, what would you like to eat?” You keep her on your back with your arms wrapped around her tiny legs, walking in a random direction. The first thing you needed to do was find a road, and then you could find a town. 

“Buns!” Tamako yells. “...Fish. Rice.”

“That sounds yummy,” you nod your head. “Maybe we can get something sweet, too.”

“Yeah!” Her legs kick excitedly and you sigh. She’s buzzing with energy so you let her down. 

“Don’t leave my side, Tamako,” you tell her gently and continue to walk forward.

Both of you walk for what seems like hours before you reach a road, and then hours after that before you reach a town. You carry Tamako at various times despite your wound, because she gets tired and you can’t afford to stop moving. You’re lucky you finally saw buildings in the distance when you did because you’re not sure how much longer you can stay conscious. 

You stop in your tracks and slowly sit on the ground. Tamako stands beside you, holding your hand. “Listen to me,” you hold her small fingers tightly as you look into her dark eyes. “I know it’s scary, but I can’t walk any further. I need… I need you to walk the rest of the way by yourself and get help.” 

“What?” Tamako’s lips wobble into a frown. “I can’t!” 

“No, I know you can, Tamako!” You pull her into a tight hug. “It will be okay. You are so strong, I know you can do it. Follow the road, and get help when you see a person. Lead them back to me.” 

Your sister holds you back as tight as she can, her body shaking with small sobs. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just… need rest.” You kiss her forehead and let Tamako go. “I love you. I know you can do it.”

You squeeze her hand one more time before the little girl scampers off, running with all her might. You sigh once she escapes your view before you lay down. The best thing you can do is try to focus on your breathing, keeping yourself alert and calm as you wait. Everything in your body hurts- your legs, your side, your hands, and arms… You don’t know if you’ll make it, to be honest. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your breathing comes to a slow. It’s too hard to stay awake any longer- could you sleep as you wait for Tamako?

Something, some far off thing deep inside your head says that’s a bad idea, but you’re too far gone to listen to the warning. 

---

When you awake, you’re somewhere completely different. Inside a house, it looks like… Did Tamako get you help?

“You’re awake,” A voice comes from another part of the room, and when you look to your left you see a beautiful woman with a butterfly inspired haori wrapped around her. “Your sister was rather worried, and so was I. Your injury was dire.”

“Tamako…” You try to speak but your throat is hoarse and dry. The woman notices and takes a cup next to your bed. She gently lifts you up enough so you can drink it. It’s tea, you realize, and even though it tastes vile you down it all in one go. You grimace once you’re done and the woman laughs. 

“It’s medicine. It will help you heal, but it doesn’t taste very good.” She lays you back down and places the cup on the stand. “Now, my dear, what happened?”

You sink into the pillows with a frown. “My town… it was attacked by a man-eating monster. I… I was supposed to protect my sisters, but only Tamako and I made it. I must have… gotten hurt, but I can’t remember how.” You don’t want to remember. You don’t want to think back to that night in any capacity. “My sister and I hid in a tree for the night, and then we walked for a really long time before I couldn’t anymore. I had her find help for me…” You look around the room, noticing there are several other beds but none of them have your sister tucked in. “Where is she?”

“This is where we keep our sick and hurt. Tamako only had a few scrapes, so she’s not here. I think she’s playing with the other children.” The woman sits down on the bed next to you, looking sorrowful as she holds her hands. “I’m sorry about your town. We actually have people there now, burying the bodies… I can have someone take you there so you can mourn when you are healed.”

Something about what she said makes you wonder. “Who are you?” You ask. “Who is ‘we’?”

“I forgot I didn’t introduce myself, I’m sorry,” the woman smiles. “I’m Shinobu. I’m a part of a group called Demon Slayers… we do just that. Protect who we can and kill demons.” 

Where were you, then? You can’t help but think. Where were you when my family was murdered?

Shinobu seems to sense your thoughts. She frowns and you think it’s unfair that even when she’s upset, she still looks so beautiful. “I am sorry we couldn’t be there for you when your town was attacked.”

You don’t want to forgive her, her or her group, but you already have. You don’t have it in you to hold a grudge against these people who you don’t even know. “It’s impossible to save everyone,” you whisper. “I know that. At least you are trying to do what you can.”

Shinobu seems grateful for your comment. But then, out of nowhere, she asks you something rather bizarre. “Have you always had that scar on your head?” 

“Oh, that?” You subconsciously reach up and touch it. “Well, it’s kind of a funny story. Originally, it looked a bit different… it just appeared on me one day. And then years later, I get this headache and the scar changed shape.” Your father never liked to talk about your mysterious scar, and no one brought it up in the village. You had almost forgotten about it, honestly.

Shinobu looks at you a bit strangely. You wonder what the problem is before she sighs. “Were you never taught about soulmates?” She asks.

“Soulmates?” The word feels funny on your tongue. What on earth was that? “No… what is it?” 

“Oh dear,” Shinobu says under her breath, frowning a bit. “I’m not the best at explaining it, but everyone has a supposed ‘soulmate’. You know this because of your scars.” She stares at your forehead. “Soulmates are people destined for each other. So, technically saying, that scar isn’t your own. It’s the scar of your soulmate.” Then she looks down at your stomach. “They will probably have quite a scare next time they take off their clothes.”

You realize she’s talking about your scar, now. Quite frankly, your mind is blown. Someone meant for you? Sharing wounds? That seems so… otherworldly. Did your father know about this? Why didn’t he tell you?

You raise your hand to your head again, tenderly touching the red mark there. “Oh…” You look over to the butterfly dressed woman. “Does everyone know about soulmates?”

“It’s fairly common to know about it, I don’t know why you didn’t.” Shinobu nods. “Anyways, I should leave now. You need to rest.”

She leaves quite quickly, leaving you alone in the large room. You’re stunned still but can’t resist the alluring call of rest. Soulmates… It could wait another time.

---

The next two weeks are spent at what you learned is the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu and her team of little doctors help you heal, and they give you goals for each day. Today, you had to walk around the garden, making three laps. It drained you to your core, but Tamako ran circles around you to keep you motivated. 

It was hard not to give up, especially when you thought about what would happen once you were better. You’d have to visit your family’s graves, and then what? You and Tamako no longer had a home. What were you going to do…?

“Come on! Come on! You can do it!” Tamako cheers, shaking you out of your reverie. Well, you were far from being completely better, so those thoughts aren’t important now. 

You can worry about it later. For now, you want to enjoy your time at the estate and have Tamako as happy as she can be.

---

The day to leave has finally come, filling you with dread.

The people at the butterfly estate were so kind and helpful, so loving, that they began to feel like a second family to you and Tamako. You didn’t want to leave them at all, but it had to be done. A new, messy and worrisome chapter has opened in your life and it was time to start it. 

Tamako’s friends, the little nurses, helped pack your bags with anything you would need since you had basically nothing. They gave you food for your journey as well, rice balls and dumplings, making Tamako cheer happily. She played with everyone for one last time as you stood by the gate, watching them run around with sad eyes. 

“You’re welcome to come back,” a voice comes from behind you, and you realize it’s Shinobu. 

“I didn’t think you would be here! Weren’t you on a mission?” You embrace her tightly, glad that you were able to see her before you left. She hugs you back with gentle hands. 

“I finished up quickly. I know you don’t have a place to stay after you visit your family’s graves…” She lets you go with a sigh, looking at your scar again and touching it gently. You noticed that Shinobu lingered on your soulmate mark quite frequently, but you never knew why. “What if you stayed here? I could teach you and Tamako how to use medicine and heal.”

“But- you work with demons. Isn’t it dangerous?” You shake your head. “Tamako and I wouldn’t survive this life. We weren’t made for it.”

“But maybe you are,” Shinobu smiles. “This mark…” She taps the scar with her thumb. “It is a warrior’s mark.”

You have a feeling she knows more than she’s telling you. Shinobu’s always been that way, and it’s frustrating, but you know she’s looking out for you. “I can’t fight,” you tell her. “But… If you help me, I will try. But I won’t put Tamako through it, not for many years.”

Shinobu looks delighted by your answer as she hugs you again. “Wonderful. Then come back home safe.”

...Home. You hold her back, tears in your eyes. “I will.”

---

Once you made it back to the butterfly estate with Tamako, things got better. You trained so you could at least swing a katana and do some damage, though it felt silly since you were ultimately doing all this just to become a nurse. Shinobu pushed you though, telling you that it was better to be prepared and know how to fight than be helpless. You agreed with her, but it didn’t make the training any easier, along with studying medicine and healing techniques.

There was one night where you had trained alone, out in the forest focusing on the breathing techniques that Shinobu taught you and slashing at the trees. It was a quiet, uneventful night before you heard rustling in the distance. You were all alone, but at least you had your katana. You face the noise with a fierce grip on your weapon,  practically shaking in your boots before- wham- you’re shoved to the ground. 

Someone had run right into you, apparently, sending you both flying and rolling in the dirt. When you looked up to see who it was, you were quite surprised to see… a demon.

Your hairs stand on edge as you stare at the female demon and she stares back. Her eyes are a bright pink, her long hair colored red at the ends. And, most surprisingly, a stick of bamboo is tied around her head to cover her mouth. “Are…” Your throat is dry all of a sudden. “Are you okay..?”

You really didn’t know what to do. Your only experience with a demon was the one that killed your family, but you’re getting a whole different vibe from this one. Is that possible? 

The demon’s pink eyes look up at the mark on your forehead, her eyebrows drifting up in surprise. But whatever moment the two of you had ended when another demon comes bustling through, headed straight for you.

Without thinking, you take your sword and slice at the other demon, its arm coming right off. You take a defensive stance in front of the girl, and you don’t really know why. The demon looks outright repulsed that you stopped it, but you can tell it’s inexperienced and dumb by how quickly you managed to cut off its head. 

Suddenly you became hyper aware of your surroundings, and you knew you weren’t alone. There were more of them. Looking back to the girl demon, your eyes soften as you reach out a hand. “You were running away, right?” You ask her. “Come on, let’s go.”

Surprisingly, she takes your hand, and for some reason, she knows exactly where to go. The two of you run together, but she leads, taking you somewhere but you don’t know where. You would ask, but considering how her mouth is busy with bamboo, you decide to trust her.

Why? You really, really don’t know. Maybe you’re stupid.

More demons come, and even though you were told they don’t work together, it seems an awful lot like what they’re doing since they all seem desperate to kill you both. You fight until you’re drained, and then you keep fighting after that because it’s the only thing you can do to stay alive. You’re still inexperienced, though, and you can tell you aren’t breathing right anymore. The battle has overwhelmed and frightened you to your core, and you keep thinking, Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Who is this for?

Another figure, alone this time, jumps from out of nowhere and goes right for your demonic ally. Your body almost naturally intervenes, holding your katana up to the stranger’s neck with a fierce look on your face. You’ve already realized that he’s not a demon, but the girl is, and you can’t have him killing her. “Back off,” you snarl at him.

“Wh- oh-” the boy’s eyes go wide, looking at you in disbelief. “It’s okay. That- that’s my sister,” he stutters, and his eyes never leave you. He’s not even meeting your eyes, he keeps looking at… your forehead.

How did you not notice his own scar before? “Oh,” you mimic, the grip on your katana loosening as you point it to the ground. You look back at the demon behind you, your mind overwhelmed and dizzy. “Your sister…?” 

“Nezuko,” the boy- your soulmate, apparently- calls to her and the girl demon happily returns to his side. “I… Who are you?” He asks. 

“I’m…” You blink rapidly, looking at the ground. God, why was everything so fuzzy? “I’m…” Did you already say that? You look to the boy, concern in his gaze. 

Before you can say or do anything else, the exhaustion from running and fighting your first battle catches up with your body, and you’re falling to the ground as your brain decides to shut off. 

---

Voices are what wake you up. Angry, concerned tones that make you think that maybe people were fighting nearby. Fighting..?

“-can’t believe you got them mixed up in your mess, they aren’t ready-“ 

Was that Shinobu?

“-you knew and you never told me?” 

You didn’t know that voice, that’s for sure, but for some reason, it sent a warm feeling down your spine. 

“-not ready-“

“-not your decision to make-“

When you sit up, you’re hit with a wild headache that pounds your skull. “Gods,” you hiss in pain, and suddenly the fighting that you heard before stops. You blindly reach next to you, knowing there’s a cup of water, medicine, something, waiting for you. Someone hands you what you’re looking for and you murmur thanks as you down what was thankfully just water. 

When you finally blink your eyes open, you see Shinobu first, and a nervous boy lingering behind her. You recognize him but you can’t quite remember… then you look at his familiar mark and remember quite vividly who he is and you stop looking at him. 

Soulmate. 

It’s dead quiet before you muster up the courage to speak. “I’m fine, Shinobu,” you try to reassure her. “I know I’m inexperienced and I shouldn’t be dealing with demons… I know I’m only learning these skills for self defense, but… she needed help.” That’s all you could say.

“For all you knew, she was another demon. She could have torn you apart.” Shinobu says, anger still in her tone but you look up to her in defiance.

“But she didn’t! She… I know it’s weird, but I knew she wouldn’t hurt me.” You touch your chest, over your heart. “I could feel it.” 

Shinobu sighs, turning away from you. You can tell she’s conflicted. “You are still so ignorant.” That’s all she has to say before she leaves the room, leaving only you and your mysterious soulmate inside.

“I suppose I was ignorant. She’s not wrong. There’s still so much I haven’t seen or done…” you speak aloud, slowly working up the courage to look at him. “But I was right, wasn't I?”

The boy smiles at you so softly, making him look so trusting and handsome that your heart feels like it’s going to burst. He sits on the edge of your bed, next to your feet. You notice that his checkered haori is gone and instead he just wears his Slayer Uniform.

“You were,” he nods. “It makes sense why you would feel that way, considering…”

The both of you blush at the acknowledgment. He clears his throat with a laugh before he presents his hand to you. “I’m Tanjirou Kamado.”

It’s rather silly, but you indulge him and shake his hand. It’s firm and calloused, clearly he’s more experienced with a katana than you are. You give him your own name. “Your sister… Nezuko?” Tanjirou nods, slowly letting go of your hand. “How did that happen?” You ask, before quickly skidding to a stop nervously, “only if you want to tell me, of course.”

Tanjirou laughs, and even though you’re embarrassed, you think his laughter is beautiful. “Of course, I’ll tell you anything, ___,” he looks at you so adoringly that you’re sure that your heart really did burst by now.

The two of you spent what felt like minutes but was truly hours together, talking about your lives and tragedies, everything that led up to this. You found that you felt wonderful around Tanjirou, and talking to him was easy and comfortable. Somewhere between the stories, your hands found each other again, and they stayed linked and warm together as you talked. When you explained the demon attack on your village and how you got your scar, his eyes burned with empathy.

If anyone knew what losing your family to demons was like, it was him. Tanjirou was just sorry that you had to witness it with your own eyes- he was lucky enough to only see the aftermath. 

“I always wondered what had happened to you when I saw it on my side. It made me wonder what kind of person you were.” His thumb rubs the top of your hand gently. You can tell by his hesitation that he has something on his mind, but won’t say it. You smile and squeeze his hand.

“I’ve lived with siblings too, you know. I can tell when someone is thinking too much about something.” You try to help him relax with your comparison. Tanjirou chuckles, shoulders relaxing as he looks at you in a shy manner.

“I was just wondering if I could see it. Your scar.”

You understand why he was embarrassed and why he wanted to ask. It’s evidence of your connection. Tanjirou’s scar is so easy to see, but yours is hidden beneath clothes. “It’s okay,” you tell him, sitting up a little straighter against your pillows and finally let go of his hand. You lift up your medical garb just enough that he can see it, the smooth and light skin that covered the side of your stomach and waist. It’s big and ugly, in your opinion.

“It’s really there,” Tanjirou whispers, reaching out and touching the scar gently with his fingertips. “You really don’t remember how you got it?”

“I don’t remember a lot of that night. I think I blacked it out, erased it from my mind. To make things easier,” you whisper and Tanjirou nods in understanding, letting you put your shirt back down. “I wish I could have been like you, Tanjirou. Strong and willpowered, learning how to get revenge on demons and protect the ones I love,” you look down at your hands. They were so small and soft compared to his. “But I’m not a fighter, not really. All I can do is hope that tragedy won’t happen again.” 

“You are a fighter,” Tanjirou tells you. And when you look up at him, you can tell he’s not lying. “You protected Nezuko for me… you protected Tamako. You’re learning medicine to help others, and learning basic techniques so you can defend yourself if you need it.” You hate when he looks you right in the eye. How can one man make you feel so important? “That sounds strong to me.”

“When you put it like that…” you grumble.

“Good,” Tanjirou smiles again. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of how pretty he looks when he smiles. “You should go back to bed. You need rest after your fight.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” You’re slightly nervous that he’ll leave as you sleep because his life is probably busy. 

“Yes,” he assures you. “We still have a lot to talk about.” 

You agree. The fact that you and Tanjirou are soulmates- that’s a life changer, isn’t it? Things are bound to be affected and shift. 

Tanjirou is kind and cheesy enough to tuck you in, giving you a shy kiss on your head, right next to the scar that brought you both together. “Tanjirou?” You whisper. “Is it okay that things turned out this way? That I’m your soulmate?” 

“Absolutely,” he assures you. “Things will become different, but that isn’t bad. I’m glad I found you. Or, well, Nezuko is the one that found you,” the boy laughs softly and cups your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” you say back, your cheeks positively warm under his touch. He kisses your forehead again before finally tearing away, exiting the room with a small ‘goodnight’ and leaving you with your thoughts.

Honestly, you feel good. Meeting Tanjirou seems like the start of something big, strange, and wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you feel like things are going to be alright. You can do this- you can fight and live. 

And you look forward to doing it all with your soulmate.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Ready for the truth

Summary: Can you do one where growing up Richie and the reader were best friends and she’s the into one he told about him like sling Eddie and when they come back to fight pennywise he sees her instead of penny wise threatening to tell his secret and so he becomes distant with her until she confronts him and he tells her what he saw and she says she would never tell unless he’s ready

‘At least I got Richie to stay’, Ben proudly announces, resting his hands on his hips with a pleased smile on his face.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Richie wanted to leave, but I took care of it.’

Bev and you eyed each other suspiciously, quirking up on eyebrow, and stating in unison; ‘he’s making a runner for it.’

Ben deflates, his best not good enough to convince Richie to fight alongside his closest friends, but you had a pretty good inkling why. Your own experience with Pennywise has you tempting to scramble your things and run for the horizon, but it also made you face facts. Leaving would undoubtedly result in the death of your friends, already one man down by the absence of Stan.

You wished Stan was here, as he was always the one who knew exactly what to say to get Richie out of stupor, but you’ll just have to do.

Back in the summer of 1989, Richie pretended to be scared of clowns, but you knew better. The way his gaze lingered on Eddie a tad too long to play off for laughs, the overdramatic flairs he faked all in the will of a second longer of Eddie’s attention, or the extreme force in which he produced jokes about his libido and all the girls that asked him out on dates. Those were the signs that tipped you off, but anyone who hung around the losers club long enough could tell that Richie’s feelings stretched a lot further than platonic. And vice versa, though Eddie seemed even more oblivious to the heart eyes he made when Richie did something extremely annoying, or funny, or sweet. Longing for each other was basically a day long task.

You’re sure the other losers caught on eventually as well, but you’re also sure that you’re the only loser Richie ever spilled his secret too. Best friends from birth, there wasn’t much you and Richie hid from each other, not even the gross stuff, and secrets were well known facts between the two of you. After Richie’s confession though, things got tense quickly. A heaviness surrounded Richie, and any time you so much as breathed in Eddie’s direction, all the muscles in Richie’s body would tense up, a fight or flight instinct, in case of you tattling on him.

Of course, there was never a hesitation to you that this was going to be kept under locks, per Richie’s request, and you tried to convince Richie of that, but you still felt deep down his trust for you crumpled away, despite not having done anything to justify that. It lasted for two years, until you packed your stuff for college and bid adieu to everyone remaining in Derry; Stan, Richie and Mike.

Returning as an adult brought back the once unbreakable bond forged, and you hoped it was because Richie shed the mantel of doubt around him and had come out. Alas, because the way he reacted around Eddie was no different from all those years ago, the big secret was still secured in a titanium vault, and no improvement was made on the insecurity level. The fortune cookies attacking on it’s own was enough prove of that.

‘Hey Eddie.’

‘The rest of us are fine too Richard, thank you very much.’

Come to think of it, maybe the eye that attacked him was his fear manifesting, every part of him being truly seen is a terrifying idea to anyone, let alone Richie.

Clowns might make Richie Squamish, but there was nothing  that terrified him more than being outed, and Pennywise is sure to exploit that.

You run down two flights at a time, dashing towards the parking lot and Richie’s car, an expensive car that cost more than your apartment and clothes combined.

Your suspicious were confirmed, Richie yanking on the car door handle, his hand trembling so much that the keys slip through the cracks of his fingers and drop down to the floor. You swoop in, fishing them of the ground and dangling them in front of Richie.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

Richie grimaces, gripping back the keys from your hand, huffing when you refuse to let go of them.

‘Home, where no killer clown can stalk and kill me. You should do the same.’ His voice is so bland, unlike the Richie you once knew who had the talent to melt different accents and emotions in one pot and challenged you to guess them apart.

You step back, dragging the keys with you and slicing a cut in Richie’s hand on accident, on the opposite hand Bill’s slice was inflicted on.

‘Sorry’, you say instantly, holding them behind your back so there’s no way Richie can steal them.

‘Give me back my fucking keys’, Richie barks, whipping his hand on his leather jacket but refusing to inspect the wound.

‘Excuse me, I don’t know what I did to warrant such a reaction but holy moly Rich, I’m your best friend. Don’t ever disregard me in that way. Can we talk before you decide to get out of here?’

The fire in Richie eyes burns down, but doesn’t answer your question, holding out his hand so you can drop the keys in it.

‘Fucking are you? My best friend?’

You blanch, stepping back once more, the words feeling like a physical slap to the face. ‘I am. Richie I watched you every step of the way until Pennywise stole our memories. Where is this coming from?’

Richie sighs defeated, his hand pressing hard on his eye sockets under his glasses, and he takes one shuddering breath in that is a forebode of crying. Instantly, you drop your defensive attitude and slide an arm around his shoulder, actions working better with Richie then words.

‘What’s going on? You can tell me, you know I’ll listen and do my best to fix it okay?’

‘Yeah you’ll do anything but curse right?’

‘Let it go man, let it go.’

‘No, did you know there’s a movie now, Captain America and he says something like ‘Langue’, because someone else is cursing. That’s you Y/N.’

‘Is it about Eddie? You were stalling again.’ You ask, waiting for the inevitable denial and change of subject, but instead Richie nods his head.

‘Kinda. I guess.’

You nudge him softly, smiling encouragingly to let him know that it’s alright to let everything out he has to say, you’ll never hate him for it.

‘It was you, Pennywise used you to intimidate me.’

A woozy feeling crashes over you, the car serving as something to upright you with. The idea that you’re one of the people to cause the fear in Richie making you wish Pennywise would steal this memory.

‘Me? You’re scared of me?’

‘No, not you. Okay yes. I’m just scared of all the fucking things you know about me.’

It dawns on you that of course Pennywise saw you as Richie’s weakness, a person Richie trust, mostly, only to crush him with abhorrent words and actions.

‘Because I know you’re in love with Eddie?’

‘Not anymore’, Richie weakly adds, but the words lack conviction. ‘You said you told Eddie what a vile monster I am, warning him to stay away from me. Everyone heard about it from Eddie and the internet starting trending about me and I lost everything. Eddie, you, the rest of the losers, my job.’

Richie’s lip snarls up, throwing his head back and staring at the skyline filled with clouds. It’s crazy to think that a town so foal and loathsome still has it’s good spots too. Richie identifies with that, describing himself as someone with a beautiful outer shell, and a rotten inside that ruins anything he touches.

‘I would never ever tell Eddie about this. Or anyone for that matter. Richie, I know we’re all a tight nit group, but you’re my best friend. The person I held on to the longest after leaving. I love you in the most platonic way possible. For the record, if you told Eddie how much you care for him, he’ll reciprocate, but you’re scared and you don’t want to do that and I respect that. This is what Pennywise is aiming for. Us splitting up or being scared of each other. Don’t let him win.’

You elongate as high as you can, balancing on your tip toes to be at the same length as Richie’s sight. It’s a stretch, but Richie helps you by lowering his gaze.

‘I won’t say anything. I’ll do anything to make you believe me. I’ll do another blood oath with you on our other hand? you’ve already got the mark down.’

Richie laughs, ‘Don’t be such an idiot.’

‘Than stop being so paranoid about me. I love you for who you are Rich. A gay, goofy idiot.’

Richie sniffles, embracing you in a tight hug. ‘Thanks’, he murmurs, his entire body trembling in jitters. ‘Now can we please ignore this conversation ever took place?’

‘Are you ready to go back inside?’

Richie stares one more long, elaborated second at the sky and back to his car, and then agrees.

[mattbrothersscriptwriter]

My Top 20 Films of 2019 - Part Two

I don’t think I’ve had a year where my top ten jostled and shifted as much as this one did - these really are the best of the best and my personal favourites of 2019.

10. Toy Story 4

I think we can all agree that Toy Story 3 was a pretty much perfect conclusion to a perfect trilogy right? About as close as is likely to get, I’m sure. I shared the same trepidation when part four was announced, especially after some underwhelming sequels like Finding Dory and Cars 3 (though I do have a lot of time for Monsters University and Incredibles 2). So maybe it’s because the odds were so stacked against this being good but I thought it was wonderful. A truly existential nightmare of an epilogue that does away with Andy (and mostly kids altogether) to focus on the dreams and desires of the toys themselves - separate from their ‘duties’ as playthings to biological Gods. What is their purpose in life without an owner? Can they be their own person and carve their own path? In the case of breakout new character Forky (Tony Hale), what IS life? Big big questions for a cash grab kids films huh?

The animation is somehow yet another huge leap forward (that opening rainstorm!), Bo Peep’s return is excellently pitched and the series tradition of being unnervingly horrifying is back as well thanks to those creepy ventriloquist dolls! Keanu Reeves continues his ‘Keanuassaince‘ as the hilarious Duke Caboom and this time, hopefully, the ending at least feels finite. This series means so much to me: I think the first movie is possibly the tightest, most perfect script ever written, the third is one of my favourites of the decade and growing up with the franchise (I was 9 when the first came out, 13 for part two, 24 for part three and now 32 for this one), these characters are like old friends so of course it was great to see them again. All this film had to do was be good enough to justify its existence and while there are certainly those out there that don’t believe this one managed it, I think the fact that it went as far as it did showed that Pixar are still capable of pushing boundaries and exploring infinity and beyond when they really put their minds to it.

9. The Nightingale

Hoo boy. Already controversial with talk of mass walkouts (I witnessed a few when this screened at Sundance London), it’s not hard to see why but easy to understand. Jennifer Kent (The Babadook) is a truly fearless filmmaker following up her acclaimed suburban horror movie come grief allegory with a period revenge tale set in the Tasmanian wilderness during British colonial rule in the early 1800s. It’s rare to see the British depicted with the monstrous brutality for which they were known in the distant colonies and this unflinching drama sorely needed an Australian voice behind the camera to do it justice.

The film is front loaded with some genuinely upsetting, nasty scenes of cruel violence but its uncensored brutality and the almost casual nature of its depiction is entirely the point - this was normalised behaviour over there and by treating it so matter of factly, it doesn’t slip into gratuitous ‘movie violence’. It is what it is. And what it is is hard to watch. If anything, as Kent has often stated, it’s still toned down from the actual atrocities that occurred so it’s a delicate balance that I think Kent more than understands. Quoting from an excellent Vanity Fair interview she did about how she directs, Kent said “I think audiences have become very anaesthetised to violence on screen and it’s something I find disturbing... People say ‘these scenes are so shocking and disturbing’. Of course they are. We need to feel that. When we become so removed from violence on screen, this is a very irresponsible thing. So I wanted to put us right within the frame with that person experiencing the loss of everything they hold dear”. 

Aisling Franciosi is next level here as a woman who has her whole life torn from her, leaving her as nothing but a raging husk out for vengeance. It would be so easy to fall into odd couple tropes once she teams up with reluctant native tracker Billy (an equally impressive newcomer, Baykali Ganambarr) but the film continues to stay true to the harsh racism of the era, unafraid to depict our heroine - our point of sympathy - as horrendously racist towards her own ally. Their partnership is not easily solidified but that makes it all the stronger when they star to trust each other. Sam Claflin is also career best here, weaponizing his usual charm into dangerous menace and even after cementing himself as the year’s most evil villain, he can still draw out the humanity in such a broken and corrupt man.

Gorgeously shot in the Academy ratio, the forest landscape here is oppressive and claustrophobic. Kent also steps back into her horror roots with some mesmerising, skin crawling dream scenes that amplify the woozy nightmarish tone and overbearing sense of dread. Once seen, never forgotten, this is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea (and that’s fine) but when cinema can affect you on such a visceral level and be this powerful, reflective and honest about our own past, it’s hard to ignore. Stunning.

8. The Irishman

Aka Martin Scorsese’s magnum opus, I did manage to see this one in a cinema before the Netflix drop and absolutely loved it. I’ve watched 85 minute long movies that felt longer than this - Marty’s mastery of pace, energy and knowing when to let things play out in agonising detail is second to none. This epic tale of  the life of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) really is the cinematic equivalent of having your cake and eating it too, allowing Scorsese to run through a greatest hits victory lap of mobster set pieces, alpha male arguments, a decades spanning life story and one (last?) truly great Joe Pesci performance before simply letting the story... continue... to a natural, depressing and tragic ending, reflecting the emptiness of a life built on violence and crime.

For a film this long, it’s impressive how much the smallest details make the biggest impacts. A stammering phone call from a man emotionally incapable of offering any sort of condolence. The cold refusal of forgiveness from a once loving daughter. A simple mirroring of a bowl of cereal or a door left slightly ajar. These are the parts of life that haunt us all and it’s what we notice the most in a deliberately lengthy biopic that shows how much these things matter when everything else is said and done. The violence explodes in sudden, sharp bursts, often capping off unbearably tense sequences filled with the everyday (a car ride, a conversation about fish, ice cream...) and this contrast between the whizz bang of classic Scorsese and the contemplative nature of Silence era Scorsese is what makes this film feel like such an accomplishment. De Niro is FINALLY back but it’s the memorably against type role for Pesci and an invigorated Al Pacino who steals this one, along with a roll call of fantastic cameos, with perhaps the most screentime given to the wonderfully petty Stephen Graham as Tony Pro, not to mention Anna Paquin’s near silent performance which says more than possibly anyone else. 

Yes, the CG de-aging is misguided at best, distracting at worst (I never really knew how old anyone was meant to be at any given time... which is kinda a problem) but like how you get used to it really quickly when it’s used well, here I kinda got past it being bad in an equally fast amount of time and just went with it. Would it have been a different beast had they cast younger actors to play them in the past? Undoubtedly. But if this gives us over three hours of Hollywood’s finest giving it their all for the last real time together, then that’s a compromise I can live with.

7. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Wow. I was in love with this film from the moving first trailer but then the film itself surpassed all expectations. This is a true indie film success story, with lead actor Jimmie Fails developing the idea with director Joe Talbot for years before Kickstarting a proof of concept and eventually getting into Sundance with short film American Paradise, which led to the backing of this debut feature through Plan B and A24. The deeply personal and poetic drama follows a fictionalised version of Jimmie, trying to buy back an old Victorian town house he claims was built by his grandfather, in an act of rebellion against the increasingly gentrified San Francisco that both he and director Talbot call home.

The film is many things - a story of male friendship, of solidarity within our community, of how our cities can change right from underneath us - it moves to the beat of it’s own drum, with painterly cinematography full of gorgeous autumnal colours and my favourite score of the year from Emile Mosseri. The performances, mostly by newcomers or locals outside of brilliant turns from Jonathan Majors, Danny Glover and Thora Birch, are wonderful and the whole thing is such a beautiful love letter to the city that it makes you ache for a strong sense of place in your own home, even if your relationship with it is fractured or strained. As Jimmie says, “you’re not allowed to hate it unless you love it”.

For me, last year’s Blindspotting (my favourite film of the year) tackled gentrification within California more succinctly but this much more lyrical piece of work ebbs and flows through a number of themes like identity, family, memory and time. It’s a big film living inside a small, personal one and it is not to be overlooked.

6. Little Women

I had neither read the book nor seen any prior adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 novel so to me, this is by default the definitive telling of this story. If from what I hear, the non linear structure is Greta Gerwig’s addition, then it’s a total slam dunk. It works so well in breaking up the narrative and by jumping from past to present, her screenplay highlights certain moments and decisions with a palpable sense of irony, emotional weight or knowing wink. Getting to see a statement made with sincere conviction and then paid off within seconds, can be both a joy and a surefire recipe for tears. Whether it’s the devastating contrast between scenes centred around Beth’s illness or the juxtaposition of character’s attitudes to one another, it’s a massive triumph. Watching Amy angrily tell Laurie how she’s been in love with him all her life and then cutting back to her childishly making a plaster cast of her foot for him (’to remind him how small her feet are’) is so funny. 

Gerwig and her impeccable cast bring an electric energy to the period setting, capturing the big, messy realities of family life with a mix of overwhelming cross-chatter and the smallest of intimate gestures. It’s a testament to the film that every sister feels fully serviced and represented, from Beth’s quiet strength to Amy’s unforgivable sibling rivalry. Chris Cooper’s turn as a stoic man suffering almost imperceptible grief is a personal heartbreaking favourite. 

The book’s (I’m assuming) most sweeping romantic statements are wonderfully delivered, full of urgent passion and relatable heartache, from Marmie’s (Laura Dern) “I’m angry nearly every day of my life” moment to Jo’s (Saoirse Ronan) painful defiance of feminine attributes not being enough to cure her loneliness. The sheer amount of heart and warmth in this is just remarkable and I can easily see it being a film I return to again and again.

5. Booksmart

2019 has been a banner year for female directors, making their exclusion from some of the early awards conversations all the more damning. From this list alone, we have Lulu Wang, Jennifer Kent and Greta Gerwig. Not to mention Lorene Scafaria (Hustlers), Melina Matsoukas (Queen & Slim), Jocelyn DeBoer & Dawn Luebbe (Greener Grass), Sophie Hyde (Animals) and Rose Glass (Saint Maud - watch out for THIS one in 2020, it’s brilliant). Perhaps the most natural transition from in front of to behind the camera has been made by Olivia Wilde, who has created a borderline perfect teen comedy that can make you laugh till you cry, cry till you laugh and everything in-between.

Subverting the (usually male focused) ‘one last party before college’ tropes that fuel the likes of Superbad and it’s many inferior imitators, Booksmart follows two overachievers who, rather than go on a coming of age journey to get some booze or get laid, simply want to indulge in an insane night of teenage freedom after realising that all of the ‘cool kids’ who they assumed were dropouts, also managed to get a place in all of the big universities. It’s a subtly clever remix of an old favourite from the get go but the committed performances from Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein put you firmly in their shoes for the whole ride. 

It’s a genuine blast, with big laughs and a bigger heart, portraying a supportive female friendship that doesn’t rely on hokey contrivances to tear them apart, meaning that when certain repressed feelings do come to the surface, the fallout is heartbreaking. As I stated in a twitter rave after first seeing it back in May, every single character, no matter how much they might appear to be simply representing a stock role or genre trope, gets their moment to be humanised. This is an impeccably cast ensemble of young unknowns who constantly surprise and the script is a marvel - a watertight structure without a beat out of place, callbacks and payoffs to throwaway gags circle back to be hugely important and most of all, the approach taken to sexuality and representation feels so natural. I really think it is destined to be looked back on and represent 2019 the way Heathers does ‘88, Clueless ‘95 or Easy A 2010. A new high benchmark for crowd pleasing, indie comedy - teen or otherwise.

4. Ad Astra

Brad Pitt is one of my favourite actors and one who, despite still being a huge A-lister even after 30 years in the game, never seems to get enough credit for the choices he makes, the movies he stars in and also the range of stories he helps produce through his company, Plan B. 2019 was something of a comeback year for Pitt as an actor with the insanely measured and controlled lead performance seen here in Ad Astra and the more charismatic and chaotic supporting role in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood.

I love space movies, especially those that are more about broken people blasting themselves into the unknown to search for answers within themselves... which manages to sum up a lot of recent output in this weirdly specific sub-genre. First Man was a devastating look at grief characterised by a man who would rather go to a desolate rock than have to confront what he lost, all while being packaged as a heroic biopic with a stunning score. Gravity and The Martian both find their protagonists forced to rely on their own cunning and ingenuity to survive and Interstellar looked at the lengths we go to for those we love left behind. Smaller, arty character studies like High Life or Moon are also astounding. All of this is to say that Ad Astra takes these concepts and runs with them, challenging Pitt to cross the solar system to talk some sense into his long thought dead father (Tommy Lee Jones). But within all the ‘sad dad’ stuff, there’s another film in here just daring you to try and second guess it - one that kicks things off with a terrifying free fall from space, gives us a Mad Max style buggy chase on the moon and sidesteps into horror for one particular set-piece involving a rabid baboon in zero G! It manages to feel so completely nuts, so episodic in structure, that I understand why a lot of people were turned off - feeling that the overall film was too scattershot to land the drama or too pondering to have any fun with. I get the criticisms but for me, both elements worked in tandem, propelling Pitt on this (assumed) one way journey at a crazy pace whilst sitting back and languishing in the ‘bigger themes’ more associated with a Malik or Kubrick film. Something that Pitt can sell me on in his sleep by this point.

I loved the visuals from cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar), loved the imagination and flair of the script from director James Gray and Ethan Gross and loved the score by Max Richter (with Lorne Balfe and Nils Frahm) but most of all, loved Pitt, proving that sometimes a lot less, is a lot more. The sting of hearing the one thing he surely knew (but hoped he wouldn’t) be destined to hear from his absent father, acted almost entirely in his eyes during a third act confrontation, summed up the movie’s brilliance for me - so much so that I can forgive some of the more outlandish ‘Mr Hyde’ moments of this thing’s alter ego... like, say, riding a piece of damaged hull like a surfboard through a meteor debris field! 

3. Avengers: Endgame

It’s no secret that I think Marvel, the MCU in particular, have been going from strength to strength in recent years, slowly but surely taking bigger risks with filmmakers (the bonkers Taika Waititi, the indie darlings of Ryan Coogler, Cate Shortland and Chloe Zhao) whilst also carefully crafting an entertaining, interconnected universe of characters and stories. But what is the point of building up any movie ‘universe’ if you’re not going to pay it off and Endgame is perhaps the strongest conclusion to eleven years of movie sequels that fans could have possibly hoped for.

Going into this thing, the hype was off the charts (and for good reason, with it now being the highest grossing film of all time) but I remember souring on the first entry of this two-parter, Infinity War, during the time between initial release and Endgame’s premiere. That film had a game-changing climax, killing off half the heroes (and indeed the universe’s population) and letting the credits role on the villain having achieved his ultimate goal. It was daring, especially for a mammoth summer blockbuster but obviously, we all knew the deaths would never be permanent, especially with so many already-announced sequels for now ‘dusted’ characters. However, it wasn’t just the feeling that everything would inevitably be alright in the end. For me, the characters themselves felt hugely under-serviced, with arguably the franchise’s main goody two shoes Captain America being little more than a beardy bloke who showed up to fight a little bit. Basically what I’m getting at is that I felt Endgame, perhaps emboldened by the giant runtime, managed to not only address these character slights but ALSO managed to deliver the most action packed, comic booky, ‘bashing your toys together’ final fight as well.

It’s a film of three parts, each pretty much broken up into one hour sections. There’s the genuinely new and interesting initial section following our heroes dealing with the fact that they lost... and it stuck. Thor angrily kills Thanos within the first fifteen minutes but it’s a meaningless action by this point - empty revenge. Cutting to five years later, we get to see how defeat has affected them, for better or worse, trying to come to terms with grief and acceptance. Cap tries to help the everyman, Black Widow is out leading an intergalactic mop up squad and Thor is wallowing in a depressive black hole. It’s a shocking and vibrantly compelling deconstruction of the whole superhero thing and it gives the actors some real meat to chew on, especially Robert Downy Jr here who goes from being utterly broken to fighting within himself to do the right thing despite now having a daughter he doesn’t want to lose too. Part two is the trip down memory lane, fan service-y time heist which is possibly the most fun section of any of these movies, paying tribute to the franchise’s past whilst teetering on a knife’s edge trying to pull off a genuine ‘mission impossible’. And then it explodes into the extended finale which pays everyone off, demonstrates some brilliantly imaginative action and sticks the landing better than it had any right to. In a year which saw the ending of a handful of massive geek properties, from Game of Thrones to Star Wars, it’s a miracle even one of them got it right at all. That Endgame managed to get it SO right is an extraordinary accomplishment and if anything, I think Marvel may have shot themselves in the foot as it’s hard to imagine anything they can give us in the future having the intense emotional weight and momentum of this huge finale.

2. Knives Out

Rian Johnson has been having a ball leaping into genre sandpits and stirring shit up, from his teen spin on noir in Brick to his quirky con man caper with The Brothers Bloom, his time travel thriller Looper and even his approach to the Star Wars mythos in The Last Jedi. Turning his attention to the relatively dead ‘whodunnit’ genre, Knives Out is a perfect example of how to celebrate everything that excites you about a genre whilst weaponizing it’s tropes against your audience’s baggage and preconceptions.

An impeccable cast have the time of their lives here, revelling in playing self obsessed narcissists who scramble to punt the blame around when the family’s patriarch, a successful crime novelist (Christopher Plummer), winds up dead. Of course there’s something fishy going on so Daniel Craig’s brilliantly dry southern detective Benoit Blanc is called in to investigate.There are plenty of standouts here, from Don Johnson’s ignorant alpha wannabe Richard to Michael Shannon’s ferocious eldest son Walt to Chris Evan’s sweater wearing jock Ransom, full of unchecked, white privilege swagger. But the surprise was the wholly sympathetic, meek, vomit prone Marta, played brilliantly by Ana de Armas, cast against her usual type of sultry bombshell (Knock Knock, Blade Runner 2049), to spearhead the biggest shake up of the genre conventions. To go into more detail would begin to tread into spoiler territory but by flipping the audience’s engagement with the detective, we’re suddenly on the receiving end of the scrutiny and the tension derived from this switcheroo is genius and opens up the second act of the story immensely.

The whole thing is so lovingly crafted and the script is one of the tightest I’ve seen in years. The amount of setup and payoff here is staggering and never not hugely satisfying, especially as it heads into it’s final stretch. It really gives you some hope that you could have such a dense, plotty, character driven idea for a story and that it could survive the transition from page to screen intact and for the finished product to work as well as it does. I really hope Johnson returns to tell another Benoit Blanc mystery and judging by the roaring box office success (currently over $200 million worldwide for a non IP original), I certainly believe he will.

1. Eighth Grade

My film of the year is another example of the power of cinema to put us in other people’s shoes and to discover the traits, fears, joys and insecurities that we all share irregardless. It may shock you to learn this but I have never been a 13 year old teenage girl trying to get by in the modern world of social media peer pressure and ‘influencer’ culture whilst crippled with personal anxiety. My school days almost literally could not have looked more different than this (less Instagram, more POGs) and yet, this is a film about struggling with oneself, with loneliness, with wanting more but not knowing how to get it without changing yourself and the careless way we treat those with our best interests at heart in our selfish attempt to impress peers and fit in. That is understandable. That is universal. And as I’m sure I’ve said a bunch of times in this list, movies that present the most specific worldview whilst tapping into universal themes are the ones that inevitably resonate the most.

Youtuber and comedian Bo Burnham has crafted an impeccable debut feature, somehow portraying a generation of teens at least a couple of generations below his own, with such laser focused insight and intimate detail. It’s no accident that this film has often been called a sort of social-horror, with cringe levels off the charts and recognisable trappings of anxiety and depression in every frame. The film’s style services this feeling at every turn, from it’s long takes and nauseous handheld camerawork to the sensory overload in it’s score (take a bow Anna Meredith) and the naturalistic performances from all involved. Burnham struck gold when he found Elsie Fisher, delivering the most painful and effortlessly real portrayal of a tweenager in crisis as Kayla. The way she glances around skittishly, the way she is completely lost in her phone, the way she talks, even the way she breathes all feeds into the illusion - the film is oftentimes less a studio style teen comedy and more a fly on the wall documentary. 

This is a film that could have coasted on being a distant, social media based cousin to more standard fare like Sex Drive or Superbad or even Easy A but it goes much deeper, unafraid to let you lower your guard and suddenly hit you with the most terrifying scene of casually attempted sexual aggression or let you watch this pure, kindhearted girl falter and question herself in ways she shouldn’t even have to worry about. And at it’s core, there is another beautiful father/daughter relationship, with Josh Hamilton stuck on the outside looking in, desperate to help Kayla with every fibre of his being but knowing there are certain things she has to figure out for herself. It absolutely had me and their scene around a backyard campfire is one of the year’s most touching.

This is a truly remarkable film that I think everyone should seek out but I’m especially excited for all the actual teenage girls who will get to watch this and feel seen. This isn’t about the popular kid, it isn’t about the dork who hangs out with his or her own band of misfits. This is about the true loner, that person trying everything to get noticed and still ending up invisible, that person trying to connect through the most disconnected means there is - the internet - and everything that comes with it. Learning that the version of yourself you ‘portray’ on a Youtube channel may act like they have all the answers but if you’re kidding yourself then how do you grow? 

When I saw this in the cinema, I watched a mother take her seat with her two daughters, aged probably at around nine and twelve. Possibly a touch young for this, I thought, and I admit I cringed a bit on their behalf during some very adult trailers but in the end, I’m glad their mum decided they were mature enough to see this because a) they had a total blast and b) life simply IS R rated for the most part, especially during our school years, and those girls being able to see someone like Kayla have her story told on the big screen felt like a huge win. I honestly can’t wait to see what Burnham or Fisher decide to do next. 2019 has absolutely been their year... and it’s been a hell of a year.

[maerrybom]

Villain or Victim?

oops I haven’t written the first diary entry for thalia dhsjd - her route doesn’t follow the black swan incident from the game, but she’s still an orphan tho,, + tw: character death, distressing imagery & abuse, mention of blood

found in masterlist

Thalia’s Diary - Entry 1

Flashback

I didn’t... I didn’t mean to do it.

“You—You monster! A vile being like you should’ve never been born!”

The crazed woman hellishly screamed at my fear-stricken face, lunging at my tiny body and firmly wrapped her fingers around my bandaged neck. Hot, painful tears rolled down my swollen, bruised cheeks as I tried to plead for my life. Her grip around my neck tightened as the seconds pass by while I poorly attempted to claw at her hands. It was getting hard to breathe.

“M-Mother! Please..! Don’t kill me..!”

Please don’t.

Hopelessly, I thrashed against the ground as my mother continued to strangle me, draining the air out of my lungs. My head was already starting to feel woozy but I still managed to muster up all the strength I had and desperately scratched her arms instead, feeling some of her blood coat my fingertips.

“You’re an abomination to this to this world! You deserve to die..!”

Please... Please let me live!

My sore throat was burning and my cries echoed against the walls of my head, shouting at the heavens in misery. But, my frenzied cries fell in silence as the heavens watched my infernal torment with cold, distant eyes. The glorious skies that I always looked up to had done nothing but look down on me. I was doomed.

“I brought you into this world... I have the right to take your life away!”

No... No... I want to live...!

All of a sudden, I felt an intense wave of heat rush through my veins and I thought that was the end of me. However, my mother jumped away from my body and horrifyingly began to scream in anguish in front of my petrified eyes. I hastily crawled away from her in fear into a corner, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away at the dark, crimson flames that coated and swallowed my mother whole. This time, it was her turn to struggle for her life and she threw & kicked the furniture in the process as if she was trying to extinguish the flames away. It wasn’t working.

My mother was dying.

I felt my breath hitch at the realisation, feeling like my heart stopped as the shivering dread dug into my skin.

This isn’t my fault.

I shouldn’t have never—

Present Time

“Thalia! Snap out of it!”

As if woken up from a dream, my mind was forcibly pushed back into reality as my eyes glared at an unfamiliar face. The shaking man looked at me in both terror and panic, silently pleading to me for his life. My glared darkened, enough to send him to his knees and make his blood run cold. He whimpered in fear as the grip I had on the collar of his uniform tightened whereas I studied his bruised face in subtle confusion. Who’s this guy? Why am I here?

“A-A demon! She’s a demon!” Someone yelled nearby.

What’s going on? I was starting to feel dizzy and felt my head pound painfully as my brain was trying to remember how I ended up being in this situation. All I remember was how I was leaving class to head back to the safety of my dorm. Why am I here? I don’t remember seeing this guy before.

“Thalia!” A firm hand gripped my shoulder to pull me away from the student as they immediately got up and scrambled away from me.

“Thalia.” My tired eyes landed onto a familiar raven-head as he looked up at me in disappointment, but I could also tell he seemed a bit worried. “Are you alright?”

“...” I didn’t want to respond as the exhaustion prevented me from doing so.

“Senpai? Is she really the newbie you were talking about?”

I was already feeling incredibly lost and quietly watched the two males in front of me. The raven-head shook his head at my lack of response whereas the unknown brunette stared at me in both concern and uncertainty.

‘Right... Wasn’t his name Johann? Who’s the lanky one?’ I thought, trying to register their faces in my head.

Johann then turned around and glared at the people who stood nearby to gossip and watch the scene unfold. “Go away.”

With his command, all of them scurried away with their tails between their legs. I didn’t even realise there were people staring at us—staring at what I’ve done. As soon as they left the three of us alone, my knees buckled beneath me and felt myself beginning to fall out of fatigue. But then, strong arms wrapped around my waist as they helped me up to keep my balance.

“Woah! That was close.” The brunette exclaimed as my eyes locked with his in shock.

“Luminous, carry her. She needs to get to the infirmary first.”

Ah, so that’s his name. I couldn’t hear anything else afterwards, but I felt myself being lifted into the air and carried away from this place. Warmth rushed to my side as my head harshly bumped against something firm, rattling the lingering thoughts in my head.

“Oh shoot..! Sorry... Um...”

My brain felt dead-tired to focus on anything and yet I ended up staring at the sight of my bloody knuckles. The bandages around my numb arms were also stained with blood and they were loose as if someone had tried to forcibly pull them off. This confused me even further.

Then, my eyes drifted towards the brunette that was currently carrying me. Quietly, I observed him and he stared back once he noticed how my stare laid upon his face. We both seemed to take in each other’s features as my steel orbs swirled with his amber ones in wonder. This boy... looks sort of lame. Yet, I can see that there’s a look in his eyes that was hidden beneath the surface as if it was afraid to see the truth.

The brunette also watched me with an odd look on his face and I can tell that he’s still wondering who I am. Although, I’ve also noticed how loud his heart was pounding against my ear and I can feel the blood rush through his veins in the arms he held my limbs with. 

‘His heart is beating so loud...’

But, I didn��t mind it. His beating heart put me at ease, feeling my erratic senses finally calm down. Abruptly, something collided against my side that brought me out of my hazy state and quietly whined in response.

“Ow...”

“Luminous!”

“Ah! Sorry! Sorry!”

This brunette, Luminous, got so distracted from staring at my looks that he ended up walking & clashing us against a lamp post. He sheepishly apologised as Johann gave him a deadpanned expression before continuing to walk in front of us. Luminous was obviously embarrassed to look at me anymore, but I kept  my eyes on him and watched his cheeks flush with red.

I wanted to laugh at his face, but a sharp pain jabbed at the side of my ribs and caused me to wince in pain. What exactly happened that put me in this state? Did I attack that student from earlier? Is this his blood on me then? Why? My pondering look must’ve caught his attention again, looking at me in worry at first before smiling reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” He said. “We saw everything that happened, so it’s not your fault.”

‘What? Not my fault? There’s no way it wasn’t my fault.’

“That student schemed against you and that caused you to act violent.”Johann explained, keeping his eyes forward as we entered a building. “They will be punished as soon as possible.”

‘But I attacked and violated someone. I’ll still be punished.’

As if he read my thoughts, Johann responded: “You may not have been ‘conscious’, but you still provoked him. The CCTV cameras at that area is proof enough to claim you as the victim, so you’ll most likely receive a warning or a few days of suspension. You still need to explain to the Disciplinary Committee what happened before you ‘lost consciousness.’”

'I’m the victim? Me?’

My mother’s voiced echoed in my head: “You’ll become a tyrannous villain! You must cease to exist!”

“So really, don’t worry!” Luminous brought my attention back to him. “If you’re scared, I will take care of you as your senior!”

My bewildered expression gazed at his bright, genuine smile. I didn’t expect this at all. Has.. anyone smiled at me like that before? How strange. He’s also kind of... annoyingly amusing.

“You’re...” I began, “odd-looking.”

“W-What..?” The boy stared at me in shock, gaping at me like a fish. “What do you mean?! Here I was thinking of how pretty your face is but now your personality is just ugly!”

Once again, I laughed at his remark and ignored how painful my side was. He seemed surprised at that, angrily blushing in response and grumbled something under his breath.

“Quit your yapping.” Johann commented.

“But—!”

Luminous couldn’t even finish his sentence once he laid his eyes on my smiling face. He was giving off a dazed look in his eyes, so I brought my bandaged hands close to his face and flicked his forehead.

“Ouch! What was that for?!”

What an odd guy.  

[pastelbrachypelma]

Sooo...

Remember how I said ages ago...that I might write some Good Omens RPF?

Well...I did it.

David paced up and down the trailer, anxiously pulling at his shirt. He couldn’t rest, not until he’d heard from her.

“Hello!” Georgia’s bright, lively voice greeted him, and David felt himself relax a bit.

“Georgia...hi.” David smiled. “It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”

Georgia giggled. “You worry too much! I’m fine! This is, like, my seventh time being pregnant. It’s not like I’m suffering.” She grunted, presumably as the baby kicked her; this little one was feisty. “...much.”

“I’m just wondering how you are, that’s all,” David leaned up against the counter in the trailer’s small kitchen. The Good Omens set might have had big-name stars, but it was a small-ish production, all things considered. Nothing like the movies he’d worked on in L.A., or even the massive demand of an American television set. It felt more like hanging out with friends...when the camera wasn’t rolling, anyway.

Georgia sighed at him fondly. “I know. I worry about you, too. You can get into your own head so much that you forget to have fun. Really, I promise I’m doing well. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

“That’s true.” And comforting. He never had to guess with Georgia; her candid nature was something that he absolutely adored about her. “How are the kids?”

“Being very helpful. They even made me breakfast!”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah, it was a bit of a mess...but they meant well.”

“Don’t they always?”

Georgia chuckled, and David could picture her smile perfectly, which made him smile as well. “Don’t work so hard, all right? You’ll make yourself sick one of these days.”

“I’ll be fine.” David rolled his eyes fondly. “Suppose I’d better go catch kraft services before someone takes the last plate.”

“You had better,” Georgia warned him. “If there weren’t labor laws, I swear you’d work straight through lunch daily.”

“I just go where they tell me, Georgia.”

“As you should.” Georgia made a kissing noise through the phone. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

David held the phone away from his ear, smiling as he fiddled with it, sliding it between his fingers. He’d been so worried about leaving Georgia while she was pregnant to do the filming for Good Omens, and now that she was showing in proper fashion, he worried even more. Especially because he couldn’t exactly catch a taxi or an Uber back home to see her. They were filming on location, which was sometimes a pain if it was far away and he got nervous like this. Most of the time, it was nice, though.

David sighed, stretching with a grunt, and pocketed his phone. Now that his fears were abated, he realized he was hungry. He’d been so preoccupied that morning, what with hair and makeup and costumes, that he’d barely caught kraft services, and by then, he had to eat a banana and report to set. It wasn’t the worst, not by a long shot, but sometimes, he longed to work on American productions again. Kraft services were amazing in America, and always well-stocked.

However, upon following his nose to where the lunch catering was set up for the day, he found that the kraft service workers were clearing up, and that only a few assistants were hanging around, drinking tea and chatting. His heart sank, and he felt his stomach turn over itself once or twice. It wasn’t very pleasant.

With a heavy sigh, David turned back to his trailer. He probably still had a granola bar or something left over from breakfast, something to tide him over. He liked to think he was never a very grumpy person to work with, but he knew that if he started to get tired, he could end up being much more aloof than usual, and with Neil and Michael and everyone watching…

“Hey! David!”

Speak of the devil. David mustered up a shy smile, crossing his arms over his chest as Michael appeared from the lingering crowd of people. That white-blond cloud of hair, chosen for the character he was playing, looked out of place with Michael’s street clothes. It only really suited him when he was in costume.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Michael clasped David’s shoulder. He was bombastic and full of energy. And loud. Living in America had really rubbed off on him, not that David minded that most of the time. It made him great to play off of in interviews, and made David laugh in between takes, helping him relax and get back into character. Whatever Crowley and Aziraphale were actually supposed to be with each other, it always helped him visualize a centuries-old relationship after he’d broke character because of Michael making faces at him from across the room. “Where were you?”

“Trailer,” David shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Calling Georgia.”

Michael’s smile burned from wide and beaming to fond and sympathetic. That was another thing that bonded them; they both had someone pregnant waiting for them at home. It was nice to talk to someone who understood. “Yeah, I understand, mate. How is she?”

“Well enough to tell me off for worrying,” David admitted sheepishly, chuckling. “She’s done this all before, so…”

“All your fault for breeding like rabbits,” Michael teased, elbowing him and making David laugh genuinely. “Hey, mind running lines for a bit before we have to head to set?”

“Ah, no…” David shook his head, feeling a bit woozy. “Think I might go have a lie-down before call time…”

A knowing glint sparkled in Michael’s eyes. “Ah, you missed lunch, didn’t you? Bad luck, that. It was, as Aziraphale would say, scrumptious.”

“Aye, rub it in, why don’tchya?” David swatted at him playfully. “Seriously. If I don’t get my head down, I’ll be a broody monster, and I don’t wanna frighten off the techs.”

“Nah, fuck that!” Michael exclaimed joyfully. “C’mon! Catering’s got leftovers! I’m sure we can ask them for some.”

“No, it’s all right--oi!” David found himself jerked forward as Michael grabbed him bodily by the arm and dragged him forward. “Knock it off, Michael!” He protested, though it was rather ruined by his laughter. “We’re like kids in a schoolyard!”

“Damn right!” Michael called back at him, grinning like a fool. “You’ve got top billing, David. There’s no way Neil, Douglas, or any of them would want you on set half-starved!”

“Ah...well…” David tried to protest further, but the words died in his throat as Michael dragged him towards the catering trucks. He couldn’t help it; his mouth started to water, and breakfast seemed farther away by the minute. “Mmm.”

“Good, yeah?” Michael was smiling like a dog that just brought back a particularly impressive stick. “I swear, they sprung for the good stuff today.”

David looked around helplessly at the caterers putting away half-full dishes and soup containers and felt his stomach growl. Georgia would kill him if she found out he’d skipped a meal to fuss over her for nothing, but he didn’t want to be a nuisance either. “Michael, they’re already packing up for the day, I can’t--”

“You can,” Michael said seriously, his eyes glinting, “and you shall. C’mon.”

“W-wait--!”

But it was too late. Michael paraded them in front of one of the attendants, who was busy packing away a large container of some kind of pasta alfredo dish. “Excuse me, miss, but my friend here missed last call. Any chance you could sneak him a plate?”

The catering lady shrugged. “Sure thing. We’ve got plenty left.” She grabbed a disposable plate sitting nearby and piled some pasta onto it. “Would you like fish as well? We’ve got breaded flounder.”

“Yes, please,” David said shyly, smiling kindly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The woman handed David the plate she’d made with a bland smile. He returned it with a genuine one; this was already more than he expected.

But it seemed Michael wasn’t done yet. “Oh, look! Those grilled vegetables were outstanding! And you’ve got to have a roll, of course...and that cheesecake was divine..!”

Once the two men reemerged, each of their hands carrying a plate, they realized they had only a half an hour before call time.

“C’mon,” Michael beckoned, tilting his head. “My trailer’s closer.”

David snorted. “I swear if I find your boxers on the counter again…”

“That was one time! And you surprised me!”

The two men laughed, sitting themselves at the booth in Michael’s trailer. The older man shoved the plates he was carrying over towards David, relaxing in the booth as the leaner of the two of them tucked in with rightful enthusiasm. Michael couldn’t help smiling, his eyes and mind drifting to the bustle of the crew outside. He marveled at them sometimes, how they did as much, if not more, work than himself and his fellow actors, and yet only got credit when the award shows rolled around. If that.

David’s fond laugh brought him back to the present moment, and he leaned in towards his friend, elbows resting on the table. “What’s so funny, eh?”

The other man sighed, twirling a bit of past around his fork. “Just thinking that I’m not going to be able to eat all this. And the scene I’m filming...I don’t think I can be too full for it.” he frowned.

“Oh, go on,” Michael flapped his hand dismissively. “By the time we get into costume, you’ll be all right. Honestly, you’ll burn it off in two seconds. Remember what we’re filming.”

David nodded, mouth full, and spoke only after swallowing. Bloody man and his manners. “Right, yeah, the church scene.”

“Exactly,” Michael watched David easily polish off the rest of the pasta and half the fish with satisfaction. “Crowley’s supposed to rescue Aziraphale. It won’t do if you’re swooning into my arms.”

“Oi,” David laughed, kicking at Michael’s shins. “You’re always saying that’s what Aziraphale really wants. We’ll give the fans what they ask for.”

“Hm,” Michael pretended deep contemplation. “Well, guess it depends on who you ask...some people seem to like Crowley dominant.”

David sputtered, coughing, and reached for his water bottle. “Oh my God,” he breathed, mock-glaring at Michael. “Bastard. I could’ve choked!”

Michael snorted. “I’d have saved you. Who else would play Crowley, if not you?”

“Aww,” David crooned sarcastically.

There was a bit of silence while David finished his plate. Michael yawned, stretching, and threw one arm over the back of the booth as he slouched, definitely not watching David eating the cheesecake. Well, he could sympathize with Crowley, at least. What was so...interesting about watching someone eat, anyway? At least David had some food in him. His co-star had looked incredibly piquey during the morning’s filming, and when pressed, he admitted to missing the breakfast cart. He’d been worried when he hadn’t seen David at lunch, but hadn’t thought to check his trailer.

“Still need that nap?” Michael asked. “We've still got fifteen minutes, and you can have my couch for a bit.”

“Nah, i’ll be all right,” David beamed. “I feel better now. Thank you.”

“It’s like I said. Can’t have you swooning into my arms.”

“Oi. I am not a blushing bride!”