#I KNOW I KNOW its not lore accurate for her to be bleeding but like. zero thoughts went through my head while drawing this

[lisandyk]

(ID in alt text)

um. so ever since i posted that last undyne drawing ive been doodling her a lot. and then this happened.

i dont know man. i really dont know

#I KNOW I KNOW its not lore accurate for her to be bleeding but like. zero thoughts went through my head while drawing this #sometimes you just gotta draw a woman sopping wet covered in blood #id #described #undyne #undyne undertale #undertale #also i know this is like. very off brand for this blog?? sorry about that. something just possessed me. #anyway #blood #blood tw #gore #gotta get those tags out of the way

[sleep-drink]

Hey Guys!!!! Actor AU ShTuuuuuff

So I wanted to add a lil lore to the Actor AU comic in terms of roles and hierarchy :)

Welcome Home as a show has a VERY large turnover rate! This is in fact not entirely due to Wally though. The company the production is under “The Playfellow Network” historically tends to not treat its actors or it’s crew very well. It pays decently in terms of its crew and because of how well the show is received it’s actors are paid even more, but in terms of things like benefits (mainly again for crew) it’s garbage. Also, because they can’t keep a whole lot of people retained, they will just kind of hire anyone. Lots of people who are in the industry have passed through Playfellow and the general consensus is “oh god, you worked at Playfellow too?”. Because of the lack of employee retention, the work environment and atmosphere is catty. at best. This makes communication between departments really difficult and very stressful. On top of that is Wally, who runs the show because he’s basically irreplaceable. As you know he’s trying to protect his loved ones and fellow actors from the terrible set and network conditions which are basically discriminatory for puppets.

The characters and their roles so far (in order of hierarchy):

Wally - Star (Lead Actor):

This is pretty straight forward. He’s mr. Irreplaceable and he doesn’t like humans. With pretty good reason :)

Susan - 2nd AD (currently acting as Key PA): Susan is the Second Assistant Director on this production and has been working here for 6 months. She works basically as a backstage manager and coordinates the call sheets and wrangles actors (when she has to). Poor Susan is actually hella overworked. So (oh no!) there is actually not currently a Key Production assistant working on Welcome Home! (I love causing my characters pain eeehehehehehehee ((we’ll see more of that soon))

The Key PA is in charge of all of the production assistants and let’s them know what to do and to keep them on schedule. The person who WAS key PA did quit (mayhaps or not cuz of something Wally did) and the company has not yet hired someone new (hooray bureaucracy).

Dolly - Walkie PA (Currently ALSO acting as Key PA): Dolly is technically the Walkie Production assistant, which means they are in charge of all of the Walkie use on set (she is actually not very good at this and it’s why she often forgets to turn her own mic off). Fun fact! Dolly’s only been on this production for like a month and a half and has outlasted most other walkie PA’s! :) She started as a costume PA and then expressed interest in other areas of production to Susan. Susan was like “Omg yes help me” and kind of forced her on Walkie PA because she has some (theatrical) tech experience in the past. Walkie PA’s can act as Key PAs but dolly has no prior experience and is kind of floundering, plus weird requests from Wally (like fixing his wardrobe sleeve length for him) take up a lot of their time. They don’t mind because it’s just a rule on set that what Wally says goes, but it makes their job just that much more difficult :)))))). Dolly is dealing with it… kinda.

Sandra - PA: Sandra is a production assistant who has been here for about 5 months. Production assistants are generally considered entry-level production jobs but she has beef with Dolly because she’s been here for longer and Dolly has been (technically) promoted before her (even though there’s SO much bleed-through between departments). She also is just a bully, she’s trying to come back from a failed stand-up career, but she’s basically been blacklisted in several comedian circles. (Gee I wonder if it’s the threats and bigotry)

Everybody else who you’ve seen so far are usually random PA’s or I haven’t assigned them a true role yet. But here’s what I got so far! I am by no means an expert. I am an actor (and a stage actor mainly at that, but I’ve dabbled in film) so not all of my info is probably truly accurate. But I try! As per the usual AU CRED: @frillsand 💗 u b! Thanks for reading my ramblings!

#welcome home actor au #wally darling actor au #welcome home wally #welcome home #wally darling #welcome home fanart #clown illustrations #party coffin #dolly dreamer #welcome home puppet show

[nutklcker]

New oc idea you ready?

- Nutcracker-Jester-Masked conglomerate, manmade to be that way. Jester uses she/her, Mask uses he/him, and Nutcracker uses they/them. They aren't too fond of being called it/it's as a conglomerate (read: all three of them will start trying to kill you) (this is due to lore reasons <3) but they all do use it/its pronouns individually.

- Visually they look mostly like a Nutcracker but WAY BIGGER, like, maybe double the size of a normal Nutty. They also have a third arm that's attached to their left hip, and between that arm's shoulder and the left arm above it is a Jester crank.

- Their body is mostly purple and red/pink, but in the center of their chest is a yellow circular plate with a hinge at the top of it from which the skull and, unlike normal jesters, shoulders, arms, and upper ribs pop out of. Like Yagluth, if you know who that is.

- The mask is affixed to their face and is so tightly stuck there that the Nutcracker can't actually open up and reveal their eye. They don't really need to though since together they have the normal spatial awareness that Nuts do, the normal spatial awareness that Jesters do, and the sight that Masks have. However, you can occasionally spot their vibrant red eye in the mouth of the Mask.

- They still have the normal Nutcracker shotgun, meaning it's TINY in their hands. In fact, they have a lot of trouble reloading it with their giant hands, but they also have WAY more ammo wrapped around their body. They mostly use their shotgun to pistol-whip employees but on occasion they do shoot it. Their unusual shared sight also makes it harder for them to accurately shoot things, they mostly rely on the Jester ability to kill things, and from there it's a fight between the Jester and Mask on which one of them gets the body (the Jester wants to eat it, the Mask wants to convert it.)

- Any employee converted by the Mask part of this thingy will, instead of having a normal mask, get a mask that wraps around their helmet entirely and slowly grows a wood-like layer around them that mimics the nutcracker's head.

- When they hunt something, the Mask will start to bleed in anticipation, the Nutcracker focuses on chasing their quarry down and occasionally shooting (though it does get slowed down by doorways and obstacles due to their size and requirement to move slow), and the Jester immediately starts winding, there's no grace period, however the Jester's winding will get interrupted or paused whenever they shoot or whenever the Mask tries to grab something.

- I've decided their name is Pop-Up and they have the potential to be friendly since, as three consciousnesses wrapped up in one, they had to become friends with one another in order to survive. I think they were probably created by an ex-employee of the company that made the Nutcrackers and Jesters and, when they were found breaking in at night and creating this giant monstrosity, they were placed on a moon with them and left there to die, however, Pop-Up survived of course and made a small burial site/shrine for their creator and friend somewhere in the mansion, probably as far away from main as possible so no scrap crews can desecrate it.

#I now have two lethal compant OC's and I love them equally 🩵🩵🩵 #OC Pop-up #🎭 #I love them so much #PLSSS SEND ASKS ABOUT THEM I would LOCE TO TALK ABT THEM MORE!!!!!!! #I think these three would be great friends with my other OC

[bargainbinwizard]

Weird Interdimensional Shit

So my thoughtform/entity I’ve made up tried to assert dominance today.

Remember the Witness experiments I’ve been doing? Yeah, I’m talking about him. I’ve been using him for help on writing the backstory on one of the characters in a story I’m planning on writing one day. Witness is an entity/thoughtform created that is supposed to either be a doppelganger of the ‘real’ Witness in the book, a thoughtform version of Witness or the ‘real’ Witness.

Uh, let me explain. I wanted to do funny interdimensional experiments with book characters that takes place in a whole bunch of multiverses connected together directly influencing each other. It’s metaphysical fiction. I didn’t know how to write one of the characters in the book accurately with in universe lore so I’ve invented a minor character and ‘’canonly’’ made him die and reincarnate into this world as a thoughtform or an entity that already existed for the sole purpose of communicating with him so he can tell me about a book character through tarot so I can write better.

*It gets really long so I’m adding this here*

I would light incense and pull out my tarot cards and call out to Witness so he can give me some info on one of his coworkers who canonly used to be a very high ranking angel but was forced to reincarnate as a nonhuman woman without her memories on Earth to serve her punishment for disobeying the alternate universe version of the Jewish/Christian God. I would ask Witness to give me signs about the Mayeliel through tarot and the tumblr dashboard.

Usually he would cooperate and tell me limited amounts of information through pictures and quotes. That’s how I was told that his former coworker used to be and *still is a Seraph dragon. He showed me pics of dragons and gave me a bible quote from the revelations about how the beast spat water (something the coworker was able to do) while also telling me that the coworker is VERY CLOSE to the throne of God  

Notable signs from the Witness notepad document:

*Note: I don’t have links for the tumblr posts here. I’m just telling you what I’ve recieved.*

4/9 -In human lenses, what is Mayeliel's role in heaven 3 of pent rev knight of swords sun rev

-Two references of an apocalypse dragon  -Apocalyptic dragon Picture with Revelation 12:15 under it. *looking up Revelation 12:15 on google*

Revelation 12:15 — The New International Version (NIV)

‘’Then from his mouth the serpent spewed water like a river, to overtake the woman and sweep her away with the torrent.’’ (Mayeliel could spit water)

5/2 What rank is maye out of the angels? Is she the closest to God or the farthest? Ace of wands King of Cups rev Chariot rev -‘’how would other people describe you' why would i know this’’ (first thing I saw) -angel with shield and sword with bleeding heart -Multiple ''Of the stars'' stuff

(He didn’t know but is guessing her rank so I invented another thoughtform to tell him the answer on the tumblr dashboard)

5/4

-Did someone close to Horaideus (fake inverse deity) tell you about Maye's rank? 2 of swords rev 4 of pent rev 5 of pent -What is mayes rank 9 of swords 6 of pent 3 of cups -What are you? knight of wands rev 9 of pent 10 of swords -Dragon pictures -Woman with a sword and 9 stars surrounding head -Cat with baseball bat is named mae (Short for mayeliel and my character really does own a baseball bat.) -“The Spirit of God is a life that bestows life, root of world-tree and the wind in its boughs. Scrubbing out sin, she rubs oil into wounds. She is glistening life alluring all praise, all-awakening, all-resurrecting.” -’’Some knowledge can only be a song or a symbol. Language fails you and me. Some things are too large.”

-monochrome picture hand trying to make a man come off the ground surrounded in fire -White Stag by Sin Eater -The utter silence of the untranslated stars.” -Dragon burning down a castle -‘’Then came the blood – so ravishing it made him feel like a god.’’ -‘’god knows all of your ugliness,’ my mother says, ‘and loves you despite.’ ‘is that supposed to make me feel loved?’ i reply. ‘i am still ugly. he is still god.’’

End. There’s more but I didn’t feel like copy-pasting everything.

Yes, it may seem like contrived coincidences but some of you literally choose Gods to worship based on the birds you saw in your backyard or just because you saw spiders in your dreams so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, the thing that made it apparent that Witness intentionally shat on me for making him answer questions was when I’ve asked him 

‘’Does Maye take orders from Seraphiel (Chief of the Seraphim in Book of Enoch) or another angel or even Mother Mary/Jesus?’’

Devil 10 of cups rev knight of cups

I didn’t know what it meant and so I’ve looked to the dashboard.

-’’You are the altar cup and with this i do fill my mouth’‘

-’’Do not ignore me or I will shed blood’’

-’’God circled her. Fire. Time. Fire. Choose, said God’’

-Augsburg Book of Miracles, Page 52 (Frightening Comet)

*googling* "In 1300 A.D., a terrible comet appeared in the sky and in this year, on St Andrew’s Day, an earthquake shook the ground so that many buildings collapsed. At this time, Pope Boniface VIII established the first jubilee year."

And this:

End.

It seemed like Witness was dodging the question by giving me other signs instead of flat out telling me whether or not Maye obeys orders from a cheif seraph Seraphiel or if she’s above Seraphiel due to her being the physical manifestation of God’s wrath and purification through death and torment. Think 10 plagues of Egypt kind of purification. After all, she is a holy dragon of the apocalypse but isn’t related to the other one (Satan as the red dragon).  Side note, Mayeliel isn’t the dragon’s name anymore and they have no gender after reincarnating but for consistency, I’ve kept their old name and gender.

 Anyway, the things that later jumped out at me was some stuff on the dashboard talking about (Some deities and spirits are closed. Don’t work with them)  and how ‘’People are not robots who will tend to your need, you need to build relationships with them’’

Combining that with the tarot card pull from earlier(Devil, 10 of cups rev,knight of cups) and the fact that my tumblr dashboard broke and wouldn’t let me scroll much father to gather more images as signs means he did it on purpose. The cards could mean ‘’Being made to answer your questions makes me unhappy.I don’t like being used.’’

Also I’ve asked my other spirits whether Witness really was trying to tell me to leave him alone or I was looking too deep into it. They gave me these cards:

King of Swords reversed, Queen of pentacles reversed and Knight of swords.

Pretty sad that a thoughtform refuses to cooperate and breaks your tumblr dash just to tell you that they have a mind of their own and aren’t required to tell you anything.

🦚: ‘’I’m not your slave. I’m a person with my own thoughts. Just because you give me incense and juice doesn’t mean I have to tell you the answer.’’

So what do you do when your creation starts asserting dominance? First, I made it ‘canon’ that Witness will tell me the answer to that question and then I prayed to the fake deity (Horaideus) that actually created Witness to make him cooperate.

I won’t search for more signs today but Witness will give me the answer later. I’m just going to wait until some time passes.

#witchcraft #witch #witchy #wizard #wizardry #wizardblr #wizard community #Magic #magician #magick #Spirits #spirit #spirit work #thoughtform #servitor #chaos magick #chaos magic

[joonkorre]

@drarrymicrofic prompt: remake

not gonna say much on this. yall should find out what's going on yourselves :D. ao3

“What do you think, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco doesn’t need to think; he’s done enough of that in the past two months, since the day he opened his front door to see the strange woman’s sharp smile. But he thinks anyway, one last time before he answers.

He’d have to leave the wizarding world behind. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that drastic. However, if he doesn’t want his frequent disappearances to catch the Ministry’s attention, then it’s best to withdraw into the Muggle world altogether, as far from its control as possible. Mother has Aunt Andy, Teddy, and friends from her book club now, she’ll be fine with him visiting only a few days each year.

Other than that, there are no downsides. He has nothing to lose except maybe his life somewhere down the line, but everybody dies at some point, don’t they?

He lifts his gaze to the buzzing light on the ceiling, its shine cold and apathetic. To the mahogany bookcase, filled with tomes upon tomes full of ancient rites and rituals, of creatures considered ‘cryptid’ even to wizardkind. To the bookend that is shaped like a crow, which flaps its wings when its beak is tapped five times, unlocking the hidden safe behind the bookcase. The safe that stores all the actual research and data he’s collected, jealously and fearfully hoarded.

He doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough. He knows enough to be aware that the lore Pansy snorted at when he first mentioned them, the creatures Mother dismissed as another of her bored rich son’s new obsessions, are the same ones Unspeakable Granger narrowed her eyes at when she walked past his table in the canteen and caught a glimpse of his notes. He had a feeling then that he shouldn’t even make any indication that he was interested in these things, which was proven to be correct when Ministry personnel started loitering outside his office more after that day.

He doesn’t know everything, but he knows his findings are not safe in anyone’s hands but his. The Ministry still repeats its tendency to care more about itself than the common people. The Department of Mystery, practically its own entity due to how even the Minister is forbidden from accessing most of its files, has motivations he can’t comprehend, which means motivations he can’t predict. There is no way to know if his colleagues are truly interested in “that old wife’s tale, that Bigfoot, Cthulhu shite Malfoy’s into” or will report him to those who know how to deal with him, to Unspeakable Granger, to the Department of Mysteries. His findings are not safe in anyone’s hand but his.

But if he says ‘yes,’ they are.

Draco dips his quill in the ink bottle the woman—“Dr. Stewart,” she’s introduced, calm and sure—provided him and signs his name on the contract and its related documents. No hint of anything other than indifference is shown on her face, and he wonders how many others before him has she recruited.

Once his thumbprint has been collected, the last step of the process, he Vanishes the ink on his finger. Dr. Stewart raises a brow but says nothing more. She stands up, holding out a hand.

“Welcome, Dr. Malfoy. The SCP Foundation is glad to have you with us.”

Shaking her hand, Draco feels something slide into place at his new title. He smiles politely, heart thundering in his chest.

“Have you worked with wizards before, Dr. Stewart?” Draco asks as he starts packing the valuables at his work desk into his briefcase. Dr. Steward has come to the Ministry by Floo, and though she seemed a bit disconcerted after stepping out of the Ministry Public Floo #13, she didn’t hesitate to follow him to his office. Thus, seeing her reaction to a simple Vanishing spell has certainly been a bit strange.

Dr. Steward gathers the documents to secure in a folder.

“My colleagues have—some of them have Muggleborn and Halfblood relatives—but not me personally,” she answers. “My apologies, I still need to get used to seeing magic in… this way. Ironically, we have more luck with magic users from other dimensions than from our own, especially with what happened in recent history.”

The Second Wizarding War ended barely a decade ago. Its victims, both people and nature, still bleed. “I can see why you aren’t very keen on interacting with us up-close these days,” Draco nods, careful.

“Precisely,” Dr. Stewart says. “So, believe it when I say you’re the exception.”

Draco stiffens. “Thank you. I’m sorry, it’s still a bit hard to, ah, believe that.”

“You are the exception,” she says. “We need professionals in the occult, especially those who dabbled in the Dark Arts along with other types of magic. Not many wizards of your kind in Great Britain remember the Original Gods and Old Magic, but you have that link, whether it be through honest religious belief or just intensive research.”

She crosses her legs. “We’ve had our eyes on you for a while, Dr. Malfoy. We need someone who’s willing to look for the oddity in the mundane, and when our people heard rumours of the infamous Malfoy heir having a—highly accurate, by the way—fixation on conspiracy theories and cryptozoology, visiting various parts of the world in pursuit of those ‘tall tales,’ we knew we need your intellect.”

Draco doesn’t quite know what to say. He was sure everybody thought him unhinged; even Luna seemed off around him these days instead of enthusiastically rallying after his theories like she usually would, gradually gravitating toward Granger whenever they’re in the same room.

“Our goals are different; the SCP Foundation wants to keep humanity safe and alive, you want knowledge and just knowledge. But I hope you find yourself in your element while working with us, finally having access to all the information you’ve been working so hard to find out.”

She tilts her head just so, and Draco can tell she knows he likes what he’s hearing. His thirst consumes him, makes him risk, makes him sin. He has to go insane to stay sane. Despite the small price of most likely dying from working with dangerous anomalies at the Foundation no matter how pretty Dr. Stewart advertises it, every cell in his body sings at the chance to know what is lurking beyond the folds of reality.

He thinks of Mother, of Aunt Andy, of little Teddy, of Pansy, of Blaise. The vision of them killed, maimed, snapped from existence because he didn’t do anything to help makes his gut twist, his throat parched. He’d kill himself from the guilt, a well-casted Sectumsempra. He decides.

His goal is no different than the Foundation’s from now on, and he has no qualms about that. With this opportunity, he is free at last, free to do the work he knows is important, to help and change without outside interference.

He is reborn.

Draco’s back straightens, and he moves his wand this way and that, orchestrating a cacophony of tomes and devices to levitate from the heavy bookshelves to the duffle bag he brought along.

“Dr. Malfoy, did I not tell you where you’ll be stationed?”

Draco halts the objects’ action mid-air, staring at Dr. Stewart.

“I was under the impression that I am to be working at Site-91,” he says, “in Yorkshire?”

“As I thought, I forgot something,” Dr. Stewart sighs, the first sign of human imperfection leaking through. She searches through her briefcase, long nails clicking through the files. “Sit down, please, and there’s no need to pack up your belongings.”

Sending the objects back to their original places, Draco takes his seat, brows furrowed. He toys with his wand, a tick he hasn’t been able to be rid of ever since Potter’s returned his wand after years of what seemed to be perpetual emptiness without it.

“There we go,” Dr. Stewart says and flips open a thick, stapled stack of paper. “You are to stay here for the duration of your first assignment. Count yourself lucky, starting work right away.”

“Stay here? But—”

“There is an anomalous individual working here,” she says, hard lines etched on her face. “You will act like you’ve not changed your career and continue to ‘work’ in the Ministry. Because of your proximity, we expect you to gather as much information as possible about him. You can use any method, as long as you stay alive and well to report back to us and receive your salary. Not to worry, we will assist you as this individual is, like most of what we deal with, deadly when pushed.”

She slides the file toward him and settles back against her chair. Draco is admittedly no less surprised than before.

“Wake up and get ready by 6 AM this Saturday, for we’ll come to get you at your house and go to Site-91. There are other information and protocols you need to know, and you’ll also get the equipment suited for this assignment,” Dr. Stewart adds.

Draco has a few questions, but from the way she ends with a close-mouthed smile, he reckons any at all would be regarded as idiotic. Well, at least she told him something.

With a slight sigh, he opens the file. The peculiar layouts and code words fly past him—he’d have to ask for a manual of some kind, Muggle science-y terminology has never been his best suit. However.

“What,” he breathes, leaning close to the file, eyes wide, “what is he—what is—”

However, there are two words he can’t mistake, no matter how sleep-deprived he is or how blind. A name, in fact.

“What is Harry Potter doing in this file?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Dr. Stewart asks, lacing her fingers on her lap. “Think. His lifelong exposure with the Dark Arts and artifacts, how volatile and explosive his power is, and most importantly, how dangerous he is even to the brightest magic users. There’s a reason why we don’t meddle with your kind. You already have the means available to contain certain anomalies, but Potter is different, and we have to step in this time.”

Draco stares at her, then at the name in the file, at the picture attached, slack-jawed.

“The oddity in the mundane, Dr. Malfoy,” Dr. Stewart leans forward, a knowing look on her face. Draco's legs feel like wooden trunks, sunken into the ground. "Get used to it, and get focused. Because if left unchecked, Harry Potter might very well get powerful enough to become a reality bender."

#drarrymicrofic #prompt: remake #harry potter #draco malfoy #scp au #scp foundation #i've been binging scp content in the past week and i think i know enough to write a short fic #i've always liked the trope of draco being in the muggle world #but what if that muggle world is just as extraordinary as the wizarding world? #where do the boundaries between the two get blurred in the scp universe? #kinda realized my kink for leaving a lot of unanswered questions in my work #ever since i got into the scp universe it's not difficult for me to conclude that harry would be considered an anomaly #and draco being a researcher at the foundation gets me giddy #draco being an academic of any kind gets me giddy #joonkorre writes

[frogdeanna]

nobody look under this cut i’m Embarrassed 

SHE HAD BEEN FIFTEEN, THE FIRST TIME YOU’D MET HER. a little bit stern, a little bit angry, a little bit anxious- you’d opened your mind to the vulcan and seen not the controlled wall most of her kind build, but a confusing and contorted array of emotions tied up like cords and wires. on the surface, however, she looked just as unaffected as any other vulcan you’d met, which very much peaked your curiosity; though not in a bad way, of course. she was a child, not a case study, and even if she could have been, all the answers as to why she seemed the way she was could be answered with a single question- WHO IS HER FATHER?

CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD HAD RESCUED A FEW OF HER PEOPLE ON A COLONY WITH THE STARGAZER.  he hadn’t told you all too much of that time, but you knew it was the same year he’d lost his friend; beverly, her husband, wesley, his father. and so you don’t ask many more questions than that- you know better than to press the captain too far on such issues, and you’ll only take that risk when you are sure the needs of a particular mission require you to. meeting t’beck was not one of these times, however, and his influence was barely needed to be analyzed outside the fact that being raised by a man like picard would most definitely grow you into a particular mold.

AND IT’S A MOLD SHE HAS ALWAYS SEEMED TO TAKE PRIDE IN; it makes you happy to see her take on his name so fiercely, and for him to be as proud as he is of her. she’s smart, she’s capable, every inch a picard by choice and work if not by blood. it just happens to have some unfortunate side effects of her having never fully learned how to follow surak’s code to control her emotions, as a result of her formative years being with a human father. that’s not to say jean-luc has been or ever will be so emotional, but undoubtedly he’s much more so than a standard vulcan; his composed nature might suit well for t’beck to learn from in that regard, but the extent of surak’s teachings will never fully envelop her as they would have with her birth parents. you do think, however, the longer you know her, that this might be a good thing.

THE FIRST TIME SHE SITS WITH YOU IN YOUR OFFICE, SHE IS SIXTEEN. she does not want to be here, and you are fully aware of it- though it’s no dislike towards you, the two of you have a rather good relationship, including a particular instance the both of you have been hiding from the captain as you’d forgotten how chocolate can intoxicate vulcans as alcohol does for humans. no, it is simply the act of expressing how she feels that is impossible, or perhaps not worth the effort. you can feel it bubbling under the surface; this sort of odd camouflaged pattern of so many complex and particular emotions that bleed into each other so viciously that they become a wall you cannot untangle, and a pity wells up inside you. if you cannot decipher what she is feeling, how could she possibly know? she speaks, if not loosely, about things that you can tell she is attempting to deflect for the most part- the loss of her birth parents, the fear of her father being in danger, the loneliness of the ship (AND HOW THANKFULLY IT IS SOMEWHAT RELIEVED BY THE PRESENCE OF WESLEY CRUSHER, WHICH YOU’RE VERY GLAD TO HEAR, AND YOU TELL HER AS MUCH). but you sense that this mandatory meeting, a protocol to ensure the stability of all on the enterprise, is not going to go far. so instead, you thank her for her honesty, and recommend a few books to read that might help- all philosophy, things you know she loves, and you hope she can see herself in some of these age-old questions and begin to untangle these wires. because once she does, you’ll be able to get your hands in there, too.

THE SECOND NOTABLE TIME IS WHEN SHE IS EIGHTEEN. granted, it’s not your office; you’re on earth for shore leave, technically, though the majority of it is spent giving statements to starfleet upper officers about your encounter with the borg and ensuring jean-luc is... stable, as much as he can be. you’d warned her briefly of the events that had occurred to bring them home earlier than scheduled, and you almost winced at the way her fear spiked through her chest and through the screen as she hardened, completely into stone. you’d watched their reunion; her being very careful not to mention any of it, very assured in the way her eyes trained themselves away from the last remaining pieces of borg hardware still attached to his face. him, with a firm grip on her hand, returned by his daughter almost tenfold. they talked about her schooling, how well she was doing at the academy, how speaking to commander worf had inspired her to declare a major in xenoanthropology and how she hoped it would make everyone- picard especially- proud. she talked more than you’d ever heard her speak before in her life, just to fill the space, to keep his mind away from what he’d been through. after he tires, though, she does something odd- she comes to you, and asks if the two of you can talk, with a seriousness that informs you that you’re needed not just as a friend, but as a professional.

IT’S THE FIRST TIME YOU’D EVER SEEN THIS YOUNG WOMAN CRY.  you’d felt sadness in her before, of course, but never like this, and never so visual (THE MOST AN AVERAGE PERSON CAN GET OUT OF HER IS A SARDONIC HALF-SMILE, AS TEENAGERS ARE OFT TO DO); so the image startles you of out your skin. immediately, you are beside her on the couch where she’d chosen to sit, away from your chair as to create a physical distance to make the emotional vulnerability more... palatable. but you can’t stop yourself from appearing at her side, so quickly it makes you dizzy, and holding her close to your chest. she doesn’t fight it, either, just lets you hold her close and feel as the threads of her empathic aura all coat themselves in a deep fear and sadness. it’s the most cohesive her emotional state has ever been, really; the first time it’s truly made full and truthful sense to you, from top to bottom, but it hurts you just the same. a few of your own tears bleed out, but you shut your eyes and control yourself, knowing just how hard it is (YOU THINK OF YOUR OWN FATHER, BRIEFLY, AND ARE THANKFUL SHE ONLY HAS TO EXPERIENCE THE NEAR-MISS).

“what if they’d taken him for good and i never fuckin’ knew?” she gets out past a wall of gasping, strangled breath, and you just squeeze her tighter. this would have been a possibility- it was only through the help of q that the enterprise had made it out alive, after all, and there would have been no way to inform her of any of it. but it doesn’t matter, truly, because he had survived, the ship is home and safe, the worst case scenario did not occur.

“but they did not. he’s home safe, and he will be okay, after some help through it. help from everyone, including you.” it’s not to put pressure on her that you say this, but to remind her of how important she is to him. it’s to remind her that her presence is desperately needed, in a way that cannot be replaced, and that she is loved as much as she loves him. it works- because you know how she functions, knowing her closely for two years, and she relaxes into you a little bit more. there’s always an odd stiffness to her, paired with a lounging slack posture, but it’s dissolved somewhat as the exhaustion of such a strong emotional response pulls through her, the form of her body not used to such depletion of energy.

“i don’t know what i’d do without him.”  her voice is quiet, almost ashamed, and it makes you sad for her, in a way. your hand comes to her hair and your fingers run through it, comfortingly, carefully. her fierce independence is a strength at times, but such shame in depending on another person- her father, no less- can take its toll on anyone, no matter how tough they have become.

“oh, sweetheart. he’ll be here for you like you are for him. you know how strong he is, nothing will take him away without a hell of a fight- from all of us.”

THE THIRD TIME SHE’S SO OPEN IN FRONT OF YOU IS AFTER A VERY DIFFICULT PHONE CALL WHEN SHE IS TWENTY. granted, you were not expecting this turn of events either, but the delicate social ecosystem of the enterprise can thank one wesley crusher for disturbing its peace, if what you’ve been told is accurate. some time ago, you would have questioned its legitimacy much more than you are now- lore is, after all, fond of deception. or at least he was, moreso than he is with you nowadays with all the headway you’ve made (TO THE POINT WHERE YOU EMPHATICALLY SIGNED OFF ON ALLOWING HIM TO ATTEND THE ACADEMY), and so you trust the story as much as you can. after frying his circuits once done with killing his father, he’d been taken aboard- for rehabilitation, if possible, and it seemed very much as though it could be. you had been assigned to help him, and with a sympathy you didn’t think you’d been able to extend towards the android, became fiercely determined to help him get on some stable ground. starfleet had, somewhat understandably, given the enterprise an ultimatum- send lore through the academy as data did, to ensure he could be trusted and controlled, or send him to be deactivated. with a fear in his eyes you believed fully genuine, lore determined he’d do whatever it took to not be taken apart again; and you stood at his back, assuring jean-luc that there would be no great risk, that it would be the right choice.

YOU’D BEEN VAGUELY AWARE OF THE FACT THAT T’BECK HAD BEEN INTERESTED IN SOMEONE;  but you hadn’t followed up on it, knowing that any prodding would simply cause her to shut down and never speak of it again. and lore, of course, wouldn’t go a single session without mentioning a mysterious young woman in his classes that he’d locked his eyes on; a humorous series, honestly, and something you’d been very happy to hear from him. you had never expected the two to have been connected at all; and when lore had called you that evening to inform you of the fact that wesley had let it slip that t’beck’s father had been the man to sign off on his admittance to starfleet academy, of course you’d had to tell picard.

PERHAPS YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE, BUT YOU KNOW HOW HE IS.  he’s an anxious father, and it would be unwise of you to keep this from him, especially if further down the line he were to discover you’d known and never told him. you’re unsure if this falls under patient-physician privilege, but it wasn’t necessarily a planned session, and you do have some very slight concerns for her safety (NOT REALLY, BUT YOU’LL USE IT TO JUSTIFY YOUR ACTIONS); so you request entry to picard’s ready room with some of the strangest not-bad-yet-not-great news you’ve ever had to deliver, and hold your breath.

HOURS LATER, IT’S YOUR TURN TO SPEAK TO T’BECK. she’s not crying now, but it looks like she has been, and you’re not sure if she will again. it snaps you into seriousness- your hands folded over your lap, a comforting greeting, an open door for her to enter into. she lets out a dep breath and rolls her shoulders back, ruminating on what to say, and you feel her aura as a mix of anxious sadness and relief (HOPEFULLY, THIS MEANS THE CONVERSATION WITH HER FATHER WAS NOT SO PAINFUL AS YOU WERE AFRAID IT MIGHT BE).

“i didn’t tell lore i was, uh, the captain’s daughter,” she punctuates it with air quotes and a defensively sarcastic tone. “because i thought he’d stop comin’ after me if he knew.” and it’s a valid concern she has, even if you’re sure it’s nothing she has to worry about now. “and i didn’t tell dad ‘cause if he knew who the guy was, he’d never let me pursue it.” again, another valid concern, but she’s an adult now- at 20 years old, she doesn’t need his permission to proceed with this relationship, but you’re also completely aware of how desperately she needs her father’s approval and pride, to live up to his name. you understand the pressure of a family- fifth house of betazed, a mother who will never let you forget it. but you learn to live with and without it, alongside the expectations without bending completely to their crushing guidelines.

“dad’s okay with it, i guess. as much as he can be,” a half laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear, trying to be as casual as she can about everything. “told me to tell him if lore gets out of line, or anything. i said i would, but...” she trails off with an odd tone to her voice- it’s interesting, to see how she is already so protective of him. it’s very good to see, actually; although you would rather her not lie to her father about something like that, it shows growth in lore, to know that t’beck would defy her father of all people for him. it means he’s taken on some of your advice, that he’s done the work to make himself the person he’s been aiming towards- and so you can’t help but smile at that.

“well, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” and that gets a laugh out of her, using the phrase you’d always pulled out when talking about the old chocolate incident of 2364. “but it can hurt you. so please- if anything does happen, you know you can talk to me?” and she nods, with no hints of deception, so you’re satisfied.

“so. this guy you’ve been telling me all about? the charming aggressor in philosophy?” you question, a knowing smile on your lips- you’re frankly shocked that it’s lore, in a way, but that’s likely because you’d never seen him placed in such a light before. he’d been a dangerous criminal, and then a troubled patient, and now a growing member of starfleet you’re proud to be helping on his journey. but you’d never thought of him as capable of becoming the sort of person t’beck describes him as, and you’re pleasantly surprised. she turns mint green and averts her eyes from the screen, but you feel her aura shift so aggressively in a moment, like a snap windstorm- suddenly all that anxiety has been replaced with the warm comfort of love, real love, raw and genuine, like you feel when will looks at you or data. and it catches you by surprise, really- you’d never had your mind this open while she’s spoken about the mystery man before, and so you’d never felt the extent of her feelings towards him.

“you felt that this time, didn’t you?” she levels her accusation at you, trying to hide embarrassment with a hint of aggression, but your smile stays soft.

“yes, i did. and it felt nice.”

SHE COMES TO YOU MANY MORE TIMES AFTER THAT.  some more important than others, but they happen all the same. soon, she’s on the enterprise with you, and her father, and lore, and it’s impossible not to see how much she’s grown, even in just 5 years. it is now that you open your mind to her again, into that rat’s nest of cables and cords, emotions that can barely be identified, not a one of them able to be separated from the rest- and you’re so very pleased with what you find.

IT’S STILL A MESS, OF COURSE, BUT YOU THINK IT ALWAYS WILL BE. they’re knotted and braided, tied and twisted, but less aggressively, more loosely, interconnected without pulling them apart. less of them are scared; there are still so, so many threads of fear in her, a core full of anxiety, but they lessen as her aura grows outwards, and instead is filled with a muted and quiet happiness; a contentment, a pride, that she hadn’t had when you’d first met her. there’s still a long ways to go, as there always is- life is a journey, and hers is just beginning, but she’s already getting there. you smile at her, and she gives you a look of confusion back, laced with a bit of humour. you don’t explain yourself to her. you simply look at her hand in lore’s, and the small nod she gives her father whenever they make eye contact, and you feel a little more at peace.

IT URGES YOU TO TAKE THE HANDS OF THE MEN YOU LOVE, TOO. it always makes you happy to see such happiness in others. they give you a bit of a look too (WILL MORE THAN DATA), but you don’t answer them either.

#here's the full drabble #it's so fucking cringe bc it outs BOTH of my mary sue dynamics #but i'm proud of it so i'll keep it here #don't LOOK i'm EMBARASSED its FINE #my little vulcan idiot i dont follow the rules

[razieltwelve]

Eldritch Entity (FF XIII AU Snippet)

Vanille was not like most children. Most children would have been heartbroken at being shunted from one orphanage to another. The only thing on Vanille’s mind was her escape plan. It wouldn’t be easy. The government would never let her live on her own, and the orphanage was more like a prison than a place to care for children.

Luckily, she wouldn’t be doing it alone. It had taken her years of careful planning and scavenging to find what she needed, but at last she was ready. Ever since she’d found that old book hidden away underneath a loose floorboard in the very first orphanage she’d been sent to, she’d known that this would be her way out.

A little bit of blood here. Some hair and nail clippings there. And all sorts of unmentionable things over there.

Add one arcane ritual of incomprehensible and terrible power, and she was ready to go.

There was a flash of eldritch purple light, and the symbols she’d painstakingly etched onto her floor began to move and shift like snakes in the grass. A low hum filled the air, and the room around her fell away. Instead, she was kneeling on the summit of an impossibly vast mountain range. Tendrils of molten crystal slithered across the ground, and she saw a titanic winged shape flying in the distance.

“It has been a very long time since someone found their way here.”

Vanille looked up, and she had to bite back a scream as her eyes began to bleed and her mind reeled. It was impossible to accurately described the… being in front of her. It was devastation made manifest, an eidolon of the raging, burning, breaking, tearing fury of creation. It was every inferno that had ever been, every storm that could ever be, and every disaster, cataclysm, and apocalypse rolled into one.

And it was going to get her out of the orphanage system.

“Speak."

So Vanille did. She poured her heart out even as she kept her eyes on the ground. She talked about why she wanted to escape and what she planned to do once she was free, and she also talked about what, exactly, she could offer the incomprehensibly powerful being in front of her.

“You think you can devise a ritual that would allow me to walk upon your world without annihilating it?” the being chuckled. “Amusing. If I could not see into your very soul, I would suspect you of trying to find a way to shackle a fragment of my power. But the only thing you’re interested in is living your life.”

“Yes,” Vanille said. “I… I just want to live my life the way I want to live it. That’s all. And if helping you out is the only way for me to do that…”

“Very well.” The being’s gaze burned into Vanille. “I have… followers on your world. They will see to your freedom. Should you succeed, you shall find yourself most welcome amongst them.”

X     X     X

Ten years later…

As the Grandmaster of the Esoteric Order of Ragnarok, Vanille had risen in the world. Over the past ten years, she had delved deeply into forbidden lore. While the rest of the world was content to rely on technology to meet their needs, Vanille had access to far greater powers. 

Whether it was summoning a shoggoth to clean her apartment or a fell beast from the Prison of Angles to do her laundry, there was very, very little she couldn’t do if she put her mind to it. Of course, none of it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of a certain somebody…

Fang - better known as Ragnarok, Destroyer of Universes, Breaker of Creation, Slaughterer of the Unnumbered Swarm, and about a hundred billion other titles - had spent the past ten years enjoying her time on the planet. Oh, it was only a shard of her, but that shard was still able to relay its experiences back to the incomprehensible whole that was Ragnarok’s true form.

“The newest batch of acolytes is impressive,” Fang murmured although her voice echoed throughout the vast, subterranean complex that lurked miles below the city above. “You have chosen well.”

“A good minion isn’t easy to find,” Vanille admitted. “But a good minion is worth the effort. We’re not going to wake up with knives in our backs like those idiots in the Order of the Wailing Tree.”

Fang scoffed. “The next time you meet their grandmaster, you should ask them if they know why that tree they venerate wails.” She smirked toothily. “I could have burned it down, but it seemed more appropriate to let it suffer for all the trouble it gave me.”

“Hmm… I’ll do that.” Vanille kept a close eye on the acolytes as they worked to put together a summoning circle. It wasn’t especially good, but not everybody had the same knack for it as her. It was more important for them to learn caution and precision. They were acolytes. It was enough if they could copy existing rituals. It would be some time before they were ready for more. She was about to say something else when Fang twitched. “Fang?”

Fang bared her teeth, and Vanille was suddenly back on that mountaintop. Chaos writhed and seethed around them, and the acolytes gave cries of horror as some small glimmer of Fang’s true being bled into the world.

“She’s finally awake. It took her long enough to notice.”

X     X     X

Lightning opened her eyes. A threat had been detected. It was time for her to deal with it.

#eldritch entity #fanfiction #oerba dia vanille #oerba yun fang #lightning farron

[sharcncarter]

okay this is the most detailed and so far the most accurate sounding spoilers (before the embargo lift). literally the whole movie is under here if these spoilers are true so. read at your own risk it’s long af.

Movie literally starts off where the after credits from thor 3 ends up. The asgardain life boat is a wreck and seems like almost everyone is dead. Thanos is trying to get Loki to fess up the Tessaract. Thanos starts crushing Thor's head and it's slowly getting cracked by the power stone. Thanos already has the power stone, it's mentioned he destroyed Zandar. In a ploy Loki stalls and the hulk comes in and battles Thanos. Ebony tells the others not to interfere and let Thanos have his fun. Eventually Thanos overpowers the hulk and levels him. Loki ends up giving the Tessaract to Thanos who in turn crushes it to reveal the space stone and puts it on his glove. Loki tries to trick thanos but is quickly killed. Before Thanos could kill the Hulk, Hemidal uses the power of the bifrost and sends Hulk to earth (where he lands in the NYC sanctum). Thanos before teleport himself and the black order from the ship sets the ship to destroy itself with the power of the power gem.

More to come.

Pepper potts and Tony have a scene talking about a dream tony had of her having a baby or w/e. Anyway Dr. Strange shows up in a portal and asks tony to join him. They have the whole interaction of about thanos and the infinity stones. Some of this is seen in the trailers. Wong also explains about the infinity stones and how they came to be etc. While they talking one of the rings shows up and wong, tony, banner and dr strange go outside and try to help the people in the area. Ebony and the big guy shows up. Banner for some reason can't transform to the hulk. It's almost like the Hulk is stopping him from transforming. (btw he never transforms again fully to the hulk since his encounter with thanos). Ebony has some telekenitc powers and faces off with Dr. Strange who at the end captures him and takes him to the ring ship. in a bus driven by stan lee, peter parker sees the ring and his friend creates a distraction so he can go. He suits up and gets into the battle and helps tony fight the big guy. Eventually the big guy gets teleport-ed away. Spiderman tries to save Dr. Strange but he ends up failing but is on the ring ship as it heads to space. Tony asks veronica to activate the iron spider suit and sends it to peter before he runs out of oxygen. shortly after he activates the parachute to force peter off the ship but he hangs on anyway.

more to come

Pls don't kill me if some stuff is out of order, it's just so many stuff happens in the movie it's hard to remember it all.

At some point the guardians of the galaxy are following a distress becon that was from the asgardian ship. They literally see all the asgardian bodies floating in space. And the ship in pieces. They pick up thor. They are marveled that he's alive and the mind girl revives him. It jumps where you hear Gamora talking about thanos (from the trailer). Thor is drinking soup or something, not sure what i was, but he becomes curious of how much Gamora knows about Thanos and even insinuates to try to harm her/mixed with jokes etc. Bottom line Gamora hints of something that Thanos doesn't know but wont tell Star Lord. She makes him promise her to kill her if it comes to the point where she might tell THanos the big secret. Thor wants to go to Nidavellir to forge a new weapon, stormbreaker which can wield the bi-frost's power. Rocket Racoon and Groot go with him in the small ship while the rest go to UNKOWN, the place where the collector is. Thor said that's where the reality gem is.

More to come

Forgot to mention that Banner took the cell phone Captain america left for tony. And said he would call him as wong said he will stay to protect the sanctum.

Tony and peter try to figure out a way to save Dr. Strange who is being tortured by ebony. He's using these needle like things to poke him (from the trailer) because Dr. Strange has a spell on the Eye of Agamoto to prevent him from taking the stone. (earlier on earth ebony's hand was burned when he tried to touch the eye of agamto). Dr. Strange is resisting evntually peter mentions about the movie aliens so Tony blasts a hole in the wall of ship which sucks ebony out to space and kills him. Dr strange nearly gets sucked out all the way but spiderman saves him and his iron spider suit in the nick of time sprouts the legs and helps him pull dr strange out back to the ship. Tony uses a spray of some kind to seal the hole (maybe nano tech or he melts the surrounding metal, not sure). Anyway Dr. Strange mentions about gonig back to earth and Tony says they can't, that they should go face Thanos head on.

more to come.

In Scotland Wanda and a flesh and blood looking vision discuss the future of their relationship and they see in a tv the news of New York being attack. Proxima midnight and Corvus attack them both. The vision gets stabbed by corvus and goes off while wanda faces off proxima. They get thrown into a train station. Corvus tries to remove the stone from vision but gets interrupted. Captain america shows up and catches proximas weapon. Black window wounds Corvus and Proxima and him retreat. They later meet up with Warmachine in the Avengers base, General Ross makes a breif cameo. Captain america, and the others show up and ross wants Warmachine to arrest them but he closes the hologram and meet the others. Banner shows up and they all eventually decide to go Wakanda.

More to come.

Drax, mind girl, Gamora, and Star Lord reach UNKNOWN. They sneak around but every instance of Star Lord trying to lead gets subverted by the others. Thanos is already there questioning the Collector. The others get close and eventually Gamora goes and attacks Thanos and "kills him" but it was a lie. Thanos was using the reality Gem the whole time and was waiting for her to show up because she has a piece of information that only she knows. She tells star lord to kill her while Thanos has her in his grip (he has 3 stones now btw). Eventually Star lord caves and right when he pulls the trigger bubbles comes out, Thanos used the reality gem to change it. He also incapacitated Drax and the Mind girl (can't remember her name). And he teleport away.

more to come.

Vision, Captain America, Warmachine, Wanda, Falcon, black widow, and Banner get to wakanda. The plan is to try to seperate the stone from Vision while Shuri finds a way to save his mind. So that he doesn't die from the separation. They are informed of the battle that will come via Thanos etc.

Thanos and Gamora are in his ship. There's a brief sequence showing how he conquered her planet etc and killed half the population to save the planet from destroying itself. There's this whole idea from Thanos that if you kill half the population of an overpopulated planet, you can save it from extinction etc. Gamora knows where the soul stone is, when she was working for him, she found its location, and destroyed the map. She tried to lie but Thanos took her to Nebula who is in suspended shattered state, being pulled apart. He activates a memory from her that shows that indeed Gamora was lying and knew the location of the soul stone. He proceeds to pull her apart torturing her trying to get Gamora to cave in. Which she eventually does. At some point Nebula escapes after thanos and gamora leave (thanos had a minion repiar her and she overpowered the repair guy).

Thanos and gamora go to the planet and a being shows up telling Thanos the way to get the soul stone. Bottom line he has to sacrifice a soul in order to get the soul stone. Someone he loves. Gamora gloats saying that he doesn't love anything and she notices he's tearing. Apparently he truely loves Gamora and ends up sacrificing her. She tried to kill her self before he could throw her off the ledge with a double dagger he gave her when she was a little girl. For some reason when she falls, they show her body broken and bleeding and all of a sudden he reappears with the soul stone in his hand.

Thor gets to the planet where the dwarves crafted the Mjonir. But notices there's something wrong. The forge is off. The dwarf was the one who crafted the infinity gauntlet for thanos and promised to not kill him and his people. Eventually after crafting the gauntlet, thanos destroyed all his people except him. Btw he's Peter Dinklage but cgied to be 10 feet tall +. Anyway the heart of the dying star is in the middle of this huge contraption and they have to restart it so they could forge stormbreaker. Thor manages to star the rings that powers everything. But the shutter closed itself. He has to go into the ring devices to open it so that a beam from the star can light the forge. This is the scene in the trailer where you see thor in the middle of a contraption with two levers etc. Anyway he's getting hit by the power of the star and is even getting slight burned by it. Eventually the MEtal portions of Stormbreaker is forged. The dwarf asks for the handle which is created by Groot from his own arm that wraps the weapon. At this point, thor is still unconscious. Rocket raccon is in these scenes and helps. He's also amazing by the whole contraption and by the lore surrounding the dwaves making all powerful weapons. Btw thor is convinced Stormbreaker will enough to defeat Thanos.

Meanwhile in wakanda they detect a disturbance in the atmosphere, and these sort of drop ships. One drops right on top of the Wakanda shield and blows up, but the shield holds. They all drop and Proxima and the big guy shows up. Steve, black panther and black widow talk to Poxima and the other guy (btw the big guy lost one of his forarms after the portal closed on his arm back in manhattan). Proxima mentions to Black widow that she will pay for what she did to corvus (insiuates that he died but he didn't). Anyway the alien creatures begin pounding the shield and die as they do so. Some start getting through. All of the wakanda army is assembled along with winter soilder, warmachine, falcon, black panther and banner in the hulk buster.

Part 2 of post.

At the same time Shuri is working on Vision, and Wanda is there as well in the city. The battle starts and eventually they noticed the aliens are trying to outflank them around the shield so Black panther gives the order to open a small gap so that they can keep them in the front of them (captain america's idea).

Meanwhile Tony, spiderman and doctor strange crash land on titan. The guardians show up and start attacking each other. Thor had mentioned earlier about the avengers and eventually they realize who they were and stop the misunderstanding. Tony talks about a plan to stop Thanos but Dr. Strange uses the eye of agamto to see virtually millions of outcomes and only saw one way to beat Thanos.

Back in wakanda, the battle rages on and gets pretty intense, proxima joins the fray, Warmachine droping bombs, Winter soilder doing his thing etc. Captain america using his new shields etc. The hulk buster/banner goes in a battle with the big guy from the black order, eventually he gets shoved into the forcefield and gets killed. Proxima is fighting Black widow and the other girl and gets splattered by these huge alien wheels with razor sharp saw. But they are all getting overpowered and more wheels are rolling and right at that moment, Thor shows up and crushes the aliens and pushes them back. He's extremely powerful now with stormbreaker. He's there with rocket racoon and groot doing their thing.

Thanos shows up in Titan and begins to fight Tony, Dr. strange and the rest of the guardians. The battle heats up and they are trying to prevent Thanos from closing his fist, so ton uses these appendages to stop him, and amongst them all they eventually get the mind girl to hold thanos in a state where he can't move. They are trying to remove the glove and are almost successful. The girl mentions that THanos is remorseful of something and Nebula asks where's Gamora. Star lord loses control when he realizes that gamora is dead and wrecks the whole plan by mistake. He hits the mind girl which frees thanos and just when spider man was able to remove the glove, thanos snaps out of it and goes full rage mode and slips the glove back. During the battle thanos gets ticked off and manipulates an orbiting moon sending meteors down to titan. He has some one off battles with Dr. Strange where dr strnage creates copies of himself and all do the lace thing to try to tie him up but Thanos easily frees himself. He also has a battle with tony and he bit by bit kept crushing bits of tonys armor and eventually overpowers tony and stabs him with a daggar tony fashioned with his nano tech. I actually thought tony was going to die as he was bleeding out of his mouth. But he doesn't he seals his wound later. Anyway spider man gets hit really hard etc. Eventually Thanos just teleports himself away to earth.

Corvus shows up where Vision and SHurri are and tries to remove the stone again. Vision and him fight it out and end up in the forest. Captain america intervenes along with wanda. Eventually Corvus gets stabbed with his own weapon by vision and dies. Vision senses that Thanos is coming via the infinity stone. And tells wanda that she must detach the stone from him and destroy it. Wanda does not want to do but eventually does, shes able to shatter the stone and it creates a huge blast that kills vision as well. Thanos shows up behind her and faces off Captain america which (in the trailer) but quickly over powers him. He's still alive. Thanos isn't phased by Wanda's actions in which he preceeds to use the time gem localized where vision had died and he undid what she had done and restored the gem. He defeats wanda quickly and puts the stone in his glove.

Suddenly Thor shows up out of no where and stabs Thanos in the chest with Stormbreaker. Thanos looks like he's seriously hurt but says you should have aim at my head. He snaps his fingers and disappears. Captain america rushes to Thor asking what happened. And Thor was speechless. All of a sudden people started to turn to ash and completely disappear. Bucky walks to captain america and says he doesn't know what's going on and he crumbles into ask and disappears. Black panther as well. In titan, the mind girl, drax and peter parker in tonys arms turns to ash and disappear. Dr. strange also turns to ash, also Star Lord disappears as well. Tony is there sobbing on titan (seen in one of the trailers) I might be missing some other people as well. The movie ends with Thanos (fully healed) on another planet. Massive cliff hanger.

Finally after a dreadfully long set of credits, there's an after credit scene with Nick Fury and Maria Hill. They are somewhere in nyc i think and all of a sudden a car crashes in front of them. When they walk to the car theres no drive. Behind them a helicopter loses control and crashes into a building which a big explosion and people screaming and running away. Maria starts to disappear as Nick fury tries to activate a com, some code red thing. He also begins to disappear and even was about to say shit before he vanishes. The com drops on the floor and you see the Ms Marvel Insignia along with her red and blue colors on the led screen.

**** Sorry before Thanos goes to earth Dr. STrange just gives the time gem to THanos in excahnge of tony's life. ****

#iw spoilers

[potterzachary]

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#Reiki Youtube Easy And Cheap Tips #Reiki Healing For Dogs

[peachhoneii]

For @donaldtheduckdad‘s birthday, this short ficlet is set in their Lost Twin AU with my personal interpretation of how things went down. Includes other things too.

If you don’t know Lost Twin AU is where Donald goes missing instead of Della. I strongly recommend you to visit their page under the Lost Twin AU tag. It’s so much fun, and they deserve it!

Happy birthday, and I hope it’s a great one! 

It’s the stories she never tells.

She is twenty-three years old. Young, beautiful, and most importantly, daring. With daring comes boldness, and she is that too, dangerously so.

But she does not realize this yet.

The bullet grazes her shoulder. Latex comes apart in a silent burst. She sees the reaction more than she feels the pain, and someone calls her name. It is a stunning tale of events. Someone screams her name; she hears his voice soaring towards her. Or is it pummeling towards her in a nosedive?

Della discovers she cares very little. Pain and shock are irrelevant as she strides towards the villain. Her flamed glare tells him what her raised fist and grappling hook does not, and soon, as another strike aims for her heart, she sidesteps in the nick of time. Another curse, another scream (yes, these screams are collateral), and she slams her fist against his bill. There is a horrible crunch. A horrible, bloody crunch on the other side, but she barely notices as a freakishly large grin takes hold of her bill.

He lies beneath her. His fingers are bent unnaturally, zigzagged and backwards. Observing him from above, Della cannot determine if this is a reaction to her or to how he crafts his abilities. She knows her punches did not go below, and her wires confined him to the floor. So what happened to his fingers? Della tilts her head to the side and sighs, and winces as she is reminded of her shoulder injury.  

“What do you think you were doing,” he rushes to her side, concealing his weapon under his cape. Della raises her head and pulls back stiffly. His presence is easily forgotten, and she rather him not know that.

Before she can dismiss his concerns, or curb his attention to the villain lying at their feet, his dark glare falls on her injured shoulder. He hisses darkly, muttering a curse or two, and pulls a roll of gauze from his suit. What else do you have in there? His stare locks on her eyes, and its severity compels her to silence.

“Did it go through? He starts to unwrap the gauze, “Duck Avenger, did it go through?”

“What?” She glances at her shoulder and scoffs, “Oh, yeah, I saw the bullet. It grazed me, Darkwing.”

Her insufficient explanation fails to reassure him. He wraps through her pouting, rolling eyes, and Damn it, DW, I can do it myself. The process lasts no more than a minute, and he surveys his work, releasing his hold on her shoulders when the binding fits his satisfaction. Once finished, sits on the ground near the unconscious villain, and he follows suit, sighing. A grimace ties to his lips, and for some inexplicable reason, she feels responsible.

“You could’ve died.” He says quietly, “And that…is why I work alone.”

“I could die crossing the street. I could die going to sleep tonight. You think this is my first time?”

“Is it?”

She reminds herself to not shrug, “Yes,” he smacks his lips, “but I have been stabbed by the undead, if that counts.”

“Being stabbed isn’t the same as getting shot.”

“And I didn’t get shot.” Her annoyance starts to show as she heaves, “A graze is very different from a shot, just as it’s very different from getting stabbed.” A ghost of a scar lingers on her left shoulder blade. Too many details can reveal her identity, and although she trusts him to not let her die, extending it to her secret identity is deadly.

Hand covering his eyes, he shakes his head, “If you had followed my plan to -,”

“Your plan was bust the moment Pinstripe discovered the doll was a dummy,” she corrects him sharply. As the sting makes way to his face, she huffs, trying to dodge the incoming guilt, “Look, a good place will always be filled with holes the second an enemy becomes unpredictable. Improvisation was necessary.”

“It could’ve killed you.”

“And it saved you.”

A moment passes, then two. After four he crosses his arms and spits to the side. The villain groans in pain, and Della senses this is the time to inform the cops where they are. It is also the moment she notices the rips on his sleeves, and the stiffness in which he sits.

“Do you need gauze?”

“Will I have to thank you for that too,” he spits.

She reaches for the roll and imitates him to the best of her ability. Pinstripe’s favorite knife is habitually sharpened, and the blood flowing freely from his left arm doesn’t surprise them. But it does leave a ghastly stain on his dark violet uniform, and as she tightens the gauze, patting it gently, she suspects this particular uniform may have to be retired.

“I wouldn’t expect it.”

“Do we leave him for the cops?”

Pinstripe is in a daze on his back. Drool escapes his mouth and forms a pool around her his head. She frowns in disgust, “We should make sure the cops can find him. His goons led them on a goose chase to the north side.”

As she retrieves her grappling hook from underneath her cape, she fights the tremor lodging in the middle of her spine as his eyes trail after her.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve done it before.” And she has. She will not tell him more than that.

“It’ll increase the bleeding, and make a mess everywhere.” He looks away, debating, “I can drive you in my car, and from there, we can notify the police together.”

She arches an eyebrow at him, “You want to share.” His humility precedes him greatly; to where him portraying a sense of it is unthinkable, “For my sake, lets not. It’s easier this way. Duck Avenger flies in Italy, as you know.”

“You can’t say I didn’t offer.” His accent is flippant. He may want to say more, Della realizes. His bill seems to pucker in a way she never thought possible for someone like him. He wants to say more. He will not relent into more, “At least let me drive you on your way. It’s ridiculous to take the long way home.”

The gauze quietly grows crimson in the night. Letting the wound grow worse will do her no favors. Fine. Taking him up on his offer would not be the dumbest thing she has done tonight. She confirms with a nod and a smile, giving him freedom to guide them down the fire escape. Rusted metal squeaks, threatens to collapse in their palms, but it is stubborn and holds until her boots slam onto a dirty rain puddle.

In his car, which is impressive in retrospect, she lets the drum of his engine lull her to a short nap. He remains pensive, refusing acknowledge Pinstripe’s unconscious body behind them.

Della slips under the radar. Apologizing is the morally acceptable action, and she feels inclined to do so as darkness begins to sprinkle drops on her. It is not appeasing. She takes hold of stubbornness and lets her mind wander under the engine’s drumming helm.

She keeps her thanks in her left pocket for later.

--

All tragedies start as an idea. The idea may be fatalistically stupid or extraordinarily clever, neither is required. An idea alone is useless.

An idea given action becomes dangerous.

The Spear of Selene is a 2,700-year-old idea. It has cost past civilizations nothing except for distorted lore and long forgotten pasts.

Della is fifteen when she discovers The Spear of Selene in one of her uncle’s book. Its contents are written in ancient Greek, and she can recall the smooth bumps under her fingers as he passes her hand across the pages. A ripple of excitement climbs up her spine as she rushes to find her uncle.

He glances at the book with a dim smile on her face, “Ah lass, many have tried and failed, even I. No man has come close to catching the faintest glow of Selene’s spear.”

His motivation tactic is surprisingly thorough. Scrooge has a tendency for this. He dares people into action, and a mischievous gleam crinkles in his eyes as he resumes his work. His challenge lies thick in the air, and Della smirks under the mischievous gleam fermenting in his eyes. He resumes his work with an annoyed burst of energy; his accountants have always been vultures.

His frank dismissal perturbs and excites her. This is where everything begins to fall.

Seasons change consistently over the past decade. The same can be said for the lunar phase. Her meticulous planning and unbridled ambition sustains her during extraneous nights of charting geographical maps. Her eyes sting above ancient Greek texts, and she records the lunar phases over the span of ten years, searching for the dreaded blue moon night. The constellations are brightest on this night, and she knows the time has come.

Her idea is not her own. It is old and used, charred and burned, bitterly stain with the tears of its forefathers, and she takes it by the reigns and makes it hers.

“Della, are you sure about this?”

She will remember this day. This day will sear its cold edge onto her delicate memory, and it will haunt her, as it should, from then on.

Twenty-five and unafraid, she ignores the warnings her predecessors have left behind.

“Donald, this going to be no different from any other mission we’ve gone on.” Uncle Scrooge has gone ahead of them, but she warns him of the peculiars of The Halls of Selene. She is a brilliant goddess, mysterious and forlorn, and if the scripts are accurate, Della knows they are, vengeful is on the list.

In less than two hours she will realize the wrath of an angered god.

--

“Donald, do you see it?”

A sigh above, “Yeah, I can, where are you?”

“Higher up than you, I think.” They lose each other in the maze of the temple. Selene’s temple is breathtaking and mind numbing. A terrible beauty it is, Della observes.

She hears the cling of coins in the distance. Uncle Scrooge must have found the offering room, at least. A momentary detour for the duck; she wants him to enjoy his time here as well. Her finger grasps at stone, climbing up to the spear’s pedestal is faster than she things. They have avoided the majority of the booby traps, and battled with the undead handmaidens, their skeletal remains now piles of crumbled dust.

Glory resonates in her soul as she reaches the top. It’s ghastly blue light swarms around them, illuminating the room far brighter than any jewel could.

“Seriously, we could’ve gone to the park for all of this,” Donald says behind her. He is deliberate in his climb, ever watchful of another attack from above, or to his greatest chagrin, to the side, “and didn’t you hear what that old oracle said?”

“You mean the crone who warned us about meeting our inevitable demise?” Her childish giggles baffles him, and she blinks down at him, watching as his perplexed expression strains into one of annoyance, “Donald, you can’t tell me it doesn’t excite you!”

“I’m more excited about living.” The distance between steadily declines. His annoyance easily gives way to anger, and anger is adrenaline for him.

“I promise Daisy will forgive you.”

“Yeah, but she won’t forgive you for keeping me for so long.”

“True!”

Gasping, they reach the top where the glow is brightest. Their eyes quickly adjust, and she strides to the spear on its golden spot. The crystal tips glow dully, but it’s a beautiful dullness that alarms them. It’s an all around frightening experience. Della loves it.

“There it is Donald,” she whispers. So caught in the overwhelming emotion of this discovery, of its very presence before them, so ready and willing, Della covers her mouth.

“Yes, yes, I can see it.” He crosses his arms and huffs, “A stick. A glowy stick.”

“A glowy stick of unimaginable power, Don,” she claps her hands like a child in a candy store, “a glowy stick only the greats could describe based on their expectations, and trust me, it has exceeded every last description. Ha, suck on that hemlock.”

She should pause. She should think. Preferably, she would do both, but Della does neither. She grips the cool surface of the spear’s metal body, and raises it off its pedestal.

What happens after she cannot describe in great detail. She is standing, proud and elated. She stares down and sees her uncle. He is holding something, something in his hand, and he is not smiling. She looks to Donald. Fear ripples his expression, but Donald is always afraid.

Donald is always afraid. Donald is always there. Until he isn’t. Until he moves, and she feels her body falling to the side, spear slipping from her fingers.

“Donald?”

He knows. Looking at him, he knows what is about to happen without truly understanding it himself, but a light so bright, so blinding, so hungry engulfs him.

And suddenly, there is one.

“Donnie?”

--

“Donnie?”

“Donnie.”

“Huey!”

No. This cannot be happening. This is not happening. It is Della. It is happening, and you must hold on. He feels so small in her arms, so small and tiny. This terrible smallness has not been felt since he was two, and it has been so long, Della thinks, since he has been two.

“Della?” Another voice comes up from elsewhere, maybe behind. Della cannot tell. She doesn’t care, “Della, you need to let go.”

Why is she breathing so hard? A million thoughts try to connect to each other in her head. None of them can. She is holding something firmly, and her brain reacts, forcing her eyes to see at last. Her hands have gripped his arm so tightly she fears bruising, and how small they are, in her arms. She releases them cautiously, shaking her head, and she raises her eyes to meet his.

Tears are ready to spill over the rim, and he stares into them, unsure and afraid. He is afraid, poor child, and doesn’t understand.

Her hands stop at his. She can’t think, and someone’s hand is on her shoulder. She wants to shake them off. It doesn’t seem right to do so, and she needs to tend to Huey. She’s frightened Huey.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…are – are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You’re not, Dels. She clasps his hands fittingly. A mark will not be left on a single feather, “Huey, I’m sorry. It’s…um…a lot has happened, hasn’t it?”

He scrutinizes her expression. He has reached an age where questioning authority is sensible if not necessary to shape his viewing of the world, “Mom, you’re not okay.”

It is easier to lie. Soothe the pain with pretty words that will wash away their concerns. Huey is not the type of child to lie to. He is smart and will overthink. His brain snatches words, tossing them overhead and under until their meanings are plain to read.

“No. I’m not, but I’m glad you are.” She wrap her arms around him, angry at the tears spilling down her cheeks, “And…what you did back there, for Dewey, was so unimaginably brave. I’m proud of you.”

“Della?”

Oh right. He’s still here. Della wipes her eyes and stands, “Thanks Drake, you didn’t have to do -,”

“Uh…what are old friends for?”

The children watch from the sidelines. Their wide stares lock on her, asking more questions she feels read to answer, but she feels the deadline is already passed.

His fingers linger on her shoulder. A thin, jagged edge scar is all that remains of the wound. When his fingers press on the shoulder, the accompanying pain is completely absent, and is replaced with a faint tingle.

Huey could have died. But he didn’t. She could have died. But you didn’t. Her head spins. Her feet are grounded, and she looks at the three children huddled near her. Drake’s daughter stands near Launchpad.

She remembers her uncle’s stories. She remembers siting at his side as he recited him. His tone thrilled them, leaving them hanging at the edge of the rugs.

His stories are important. His stories hold truth and false promises. They are not the ones Della will tell them tonight. She is certain of it. Good.

#donald duck #della duck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #darkwing duck #drake mallard #dralla #lost twin au #mywriting

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Summoning of Jon Hunter

His breathing was flat and labored. His hair stuck to his forehead with a sheen of sweat. Walter Harrison did not wonder for long where it had all gone wrong. It had all started with the little girl in the white mask. She had stared into his soul like a little hell spawn.

That little girl had been the herald of doom. When she showed up was also before Walter had learned of the arrival of the Goodchilde family in the town of Dead End. A grim, bleak-looking small town at the foot of the Appalachian mountains, but one that he had helped build with his own two hands. He had the calluses to show and the Goodchildes had none of that. Rich folk who showed up with servants and acted like they owned the place. Walter believed that particular family was everything that was wrong with rich folk in the South.

Like quite a few people around Dead End, Walter was no friend of slavery. A lot of the gentry around here in Kentucky had been saying that slavery was protected by their constitutional rights. Though in a mining town like Dead End—at the fringes of very society—nobody cared about that. Hell, they even tolerated some of the natives peddling furs here. A lot of people were like Walter and had exiled themselves to this haven of hard work with few reminders of city life and fewer questions asked about their past.

That little girl wore a white porcelain mask.

Walter heard from Thom Dougherty that she was disfigured. Hereditary. Probably because the Goodchildes were of some incestuous lineage of European nobility. It did not matter to Walter and Thom made up a lot of tall tales anyway. All that mattered was that the little girl would stare back at him, pure darkness beyond those sockets in the fine porcelain mask. It made his skin crawl from the very first moment on and would not subside even when the fair lady Goodchilde took her girl by the hand and guided her off. The masked girl continued to stare back at him while being dragged along, and she haunted Walter in his dreams. It was like she saw his guilt. The sins he had only confessed to the Reverend Gainsborough, and nobody else knew of.

Marvin Goodchilde had bought up all the coal mining business around here and other nearby towns. “Making a killing,” as Dougherty worded it, and it stung how accurate that sounded to Walter. Goodchilde also brought his own slaves into town, having them work in the mines. Putting miners like Walter and his friends out of work.

Walter Harrison had helped build the saloon and two of the residential houses in Dead End. This place had weathered over a decade of sweltering hot summers and unforgiving winters. Its people feared God, and the devil was not welcome here.

Peter Cobbs was a black man. Neither Walter nor anybody else ever questioned why he was a free man. One cold evening over one too many glasses of whiskey, the good Reverend broke his oath and accidentally told Walter that Cobbs killed his master and escaped from a plantation further down south. Everybody had suspected as much, but nobody ever said it out loud nor cared. Peter Cobbs worked, and he worked hard in the mines, he was quiet and earned his keep and respect from everybody even though—or because—Doc Barnes refused to treat him for any ailments and Milly from the General Store marked up all prices whenever Cobbs shopped there. Despite these odds, Peter Cobbs was overwhelmingly welcome in Dead End, like anybody else down on their luck and eking out a new life.

And knowing everybody would disapprove, Peter and Walter would secretly share some of their nights together, staving off the loneliness together in sin. The Reverend showed a lot of understanding, and their secret never left the confessional. Walter feared he would eventually go to hell for his transgressions of what the Church preached, but the holy man repeatedly assured him that God loved him nevertheless as long as he repented. Alcohol did the rest of drowning Walter’s feelings of guilt. So all was good, in a way. And Dead End had never been home to lynching.

The damned girl—the little masked girl—she was the first sign of the ghosts showing up in this town—ghosts of war and hungry fires that devoured the black folk. Ghosts in form of living, breathing people. The Klansmen, they called them. Walter and some of the others had heard of them and their movement. Neither the war nor the Klan nor lynching had reached Dead End. Until now. Marvin Goodchilde was one of the ghosts. The little girl was creepy, but to Walter, Marvin Goodchilde was downright terrifying. Stoic face, puffy cheeks, meaty hands that had never worked a day. But he had a fierce determination and the devil himself in his eyes.

He saw that devil in his eyes when he saw Marvin riling up a crowd on the town square one night. It was not just the reflection of the fires burning up crosses. They bore those eerie-looking, pointy white hoods and marched off into the night. Walter had rubbed his face and missed most of the speech in a bit of a stupor between too much bad whiskey, too little sleep, and too long of a day in the mines.

The screams from Cobbs’ shack down the road woke Walter up again. Goodchilde and his Klansmen had murdered Cobbs and burned his home down. In a matter of hours, a man had been wrenched from life, a life that everybody in Dead End would remember. Walter himself remembered how Peter Cobbs had even saved his life in the mines one time. Peter was his friend, and now he was dead. He needed not check, he knew it and immediately threw up when the realization hit him. The screams and the pillar of smoke in the distance had said it all.

Upset and having emptied the rest of his whiskey bottle, Walter found himself in the graveyard. Dawn had not even broken yet, and he was visiting the grave of Jon “Cold-Blood” Hunter. Hunter was the fiercest bounty hunter known to this and all neighboring states, and he was buried here after a U.S. Marshal shot him in the face for having unlawfully slain an adulterer—for pay from a scorned and wealthy wife on the East Coast. Hell hath no fury and all that. Considering Hunter had taken down some of the most infamous outlaws known to Kentucky in the past years, his crudely crafted wooden cross was rather pitiful. Jon Hunter’s legend did not end there, though.

Cut your palm and bleed onto the gravestone of Jon Hunter, and Cold-Blood will rise from his grave. You can trade your life and soul to him, so he takes down criminals in your stead. That is what local lore used to preach. Even one of the natives had claimed he saw the walking corpse of Jon Hunter once. With his vision blurred and his senses already having escaped halfway to the Mexican border, Walter slowly realized he had cut himself. The pain was dulled by the whiskey, and he vaguely remembered the sound of shattering glass, the smell of cheap booze, and the shard he used to cut his flesh. Dark red spots formed in the dried yellow grass of the ground in front of Hunter’s grave.

Walter was short of breath and covered in sweat. There was a fear deep down in his belly, wrenching his gut. His head was spinning with dark thoughts, things more malevolent than even the devil in Marvin Goodchilde’s eyes. Walter was too drunk to spin around at the sound of jingling metal spurs accompanying the bootsteps thumping down behind him in a spooky monotone.

It was the spitting image of Jon Hunter, his brown duster covered in dry, powdery dirt and resting his hand on a holstered gun. Walter had blinked and wondered if Jon was missing his lower jaw, but the dirty brown bandana wrapped around the gaunt face just concealed it.

“Kill that turd,” Walter said and then spat on the ground, staggering where he stood. “I wanna see the Goodchildes die like dogs. Even tha’ little creepy girl. Kill ‘em all.”

Cold, dead eyes stared out from under the brim of Hunter’s hat. Jon said nothing. There was something sinister, hollow, and piercing in the milky white of them where a pale blue color used to be, and it chilled Walter to the bone. It froze him on the spot, leaving him oblivious of what was happening as he heard the bootsteps gain distance, spurs jingling, and Jon Hunter walking away from him, unholstering his revolver and loading it, slowly and deliberately, bullet after bullet.

It was all a blur, and it was getting warmer and warmer, like fire. Walter’s breath had been growing more and more flat, labored. He faintly remembered the screams from town, blinking, and rubbing his eyes with hands covered in dirt and blood, and then rubbing them again and realizing how he saw Goodchilde Manor ablaze. The fair lady Goodchilde running out the front door, and Jon Hunter calmly walking after her, dropping the severed head of Marvin Goodchilde onto the floorboards of the porch as Cold-Blood’s every step thundered just as menacingly with a slow and ponderous thud each. Her shriek was clipped and barely heard when Hunter gunned the lady down with two bullets in her back. The porcelain white mask rocked on a soft-looking carpet just behind the front door, cracked and bloodied and gradually being engulfed by the flames.

Walter had stumbled back to the grave of Jon Hunter. It had all been a delirious haze. He remembered how he had lost his footing and fallen—straight into an empty coffin in a shallow ditch. The sun was rising behind him, and it cast a long shadow over the brim of Hunter’s hat, hiding his ghastly face in an unfathomable void. A bony hand like that of the pale rider himself grabbed the edge of the lid and slammed the coffin shut over Walter. That was his very last sight of the skies over Dead End.

The sound of dirt raining down on the wooden lid came back to him. And again. And again. He knew where it had all gone wrong and it filled him with a twisted sense of satisfaction. Walter reckoned he would be seeing Marvin Goodchilde soon.

—Submitted by Wratts

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #literature #submission #old west #summoning #jon hunter #dead end #spooky #vengeful spirit #revenge #my writing

[violinsandmasquerades-blog]

Cat Eyes - Update

So, I finally got a chance to talk with Cat Eyes about her glasses. She was out near the cafeteria selling them, like she was the first week, so I just kinda came up to her table. She seemed a bit surprised that somebody approached her, I’m guessing students tend to give her a wide berth. Anyways, I gave her an eraser shaped like a burger in exchange for some information-- I’m having a lot of fun with all these practice deals! According to her, she would have “given me advice free of charge,” but I think its a good plan to get as much experience as I can. 

Back on subject, though. She told me that if we were going to do it with deals, she’d give me answers to two questions in return for the eraser, in precise language (so no obfuscation or cryptic-ness) and going into depth. Here’s what I learned:

Question One: I know that “Them”, “The Fair Folk”, and “The Gentry” all refer to the same beings. I also know that They are not human. What are They?

Answer: If you’re familiar with folklore at all, you’ll probably recognize Them from all kids of lore, particularly Irish and Celtic. When we say “Fair Folk”, we generally mean (she leaned in and spoke very softly, as if afraid that something might overhear us) “faeries”. I didn’t mean to startle you, it’s just that the Gentry prefer not to be called that. 

I looked at her disbelievingly. “Faeries?”

“Come on. That has to ring a bell. And I’m not talking about Tinkerbell or happy little people with pixie wings, either. I’m talking real, mythologically accurate Fair Folk. The kind that people leave offering out for, in case they take a liking to your child and try to steal it away. The kind that will make people dance until their feet are bleeding.” She blinked. “Next question.”

At this point, I was just more confused than I was in the beginning. Yes, what she said made logical sense- it fits in with all the warnings and precautions people have been sending all of us, especially the stuff about iron, but faeries? 

Question two didn’t do much to help.

Question two: How do I get my eye back?

Answer: You don’t. You’ve already experienced how cruel They can be- if you try to make another deal, there’s no telling what will happen. You could lose your memories, your other eye, even your autonomy. Think about it this way- you know wha happened with Paintedface, and she’s one of the kinder ones. Yes, you could potentially get it back by dealing with Them. But if you’re smart, you’ll just let sleeping dogs lie.

I gave her the eraser when it became clear she wasn’t going to say any more. She took it, and didn’t thank me (another point in favor of faeries. But there has to be another, more logical explanation. I mean, ghosts? I’ll believe that. Cryptids? Sure. But faeries? Those are just children’s stories.), and I didn’t thank her either. I also asked her if her glasses had any prescription, but she said they were just for fashion and for Sight--I assume she meant the kind of sight Paintedface gave me, not normal sight, so I didn’t press any further. Plus, I ran out of cool erasers.

Look, when I was a kid, I was obsessed with the Fae. I used to make-believe with my friend that we had the Sight, and we would have these ridiculously long and involved LARPing sessions on the playground of our school. I read every book there was to read, I stayed up all night writing stories. Hell, I used to leave out little bowls filled with sugar and berries for the fae. But...that was all just a little kid’s imagination. I know that faeries aren’t real! Even seeing myself type out those words is bizarre, because that should be so obvious! I won’t lie and say that I’ve grown out of my obsession with faeries and changelings, because I love folklore and a good adventure, but I KNOW they aren’t real!!!

So why am I finding myself wondering if they might be real after all?

-Egg

#update #investigation tag #answers