#I was going for a different head tendril shape to try to mimic how I first drew ZEX all that while back but the shape just ended up funny :P

[sysig]

Unexpectedly bright star of the show (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #DAX #ZEX #Little set of mostly older doodles #First DAX was made back in April as a comfort doodle - self hug <3 #I wonder if it'd actually be any easier to get the right pressure in a squeeze with tentacle arms - they wrap around either way! #Seems like it'd be nice :) #Big eyed ZEX just to be silly and play with colours again hehe #Cute delicate tongue! Pink is too adorable #Slightly more recent DAX as you can tell by the accompanying VUK ZIX from when I finally started playing with it :) #DAX's name is cute as well hehe ♪ It suits him #I was going for a different head tendril shape to try to mimic how I first drew ZEX all that while back but the shape just ended up funny :P #Nubs #I'll try again another time lol #And finally another vernors-inspired DAX :D DAX's outfit is so pretty! All of vernors' VUX clothing is so so pretty <3 #The accentuated waist! The hip and shoulder detailing! Layers and fine gold! So pretty ♥ #Kind of a mix of styles but the study to learn the shapes was really fun hehe ♪ #Such nice flow :)

[possiblylando]

Chainsaw Man Chapter 125 ""Early"" Analsys.

I put Early in heavy quotation marks cause I'm a few (several) hours late to this. 125 is another battle chapter so up until the end we don't get much aside from more characterization of the falling devil.

Women be shopping post now

This one dude who's not even screaming he's just going "OWWW" was pretty funny in all honesty. You get your eyes ripped out and all your have to say is ow? Yeah me too honestly.

So since I wake up pretty later in the day due to having the worst sleep schedule known to man this was the first panel I saw due to my friend posting about it. Anyway I've not really got much knowledge when it comes to cooking or.. What human flesh tastes like.. But I've had ham and apples so I'd say probably a more sweet slightly acidic taste would pair decent? Idk apple names sadly so uhhh-

Falling's whole attitude here is really interesting because it's completely unlike any other devil we've seen. She's not here to massacre humans. She's just here to cook. Women be cooking post now. So now I'm more interested in what her deal is and why she's like this. She's a full on anomaly.

Any men out there want to spare some head?? She's so fucking bizarre because just a few minutes earlier she was pretty nonchalantly ripping random civilian's eyes and ears off their bodies.

I'm assuming they're using some sort of Anti-Material rifle here. Also public safety is back haiiiiiiiiiiiii. We then get a good look at what Falling is able to actually do in combat.

I'm unsure if this is a specific attack like increasing the gravity at a point to rip things apart of she's just rapidly attacking the building to destroy it and cause the rubble to fall upwards.

Additionally these tendril whip attacks seem to be her other main form of attack. I think that she's using the wings on her back as weapons instead of creating an energy attack or summoning something. Because later when we see them used again they don't have a uniform shape.

HE'S HEREEEEEEEEEEEE

Looks like 126 will be back to some full on chainsaw man blood and guts battle action. So I saw someone point this out on the chainsaw man reddit u/GVmG

Essentially what they're saying is the Chainsaw Man that shows up in 125 isn't actually denji due to the fact he's wearing his school inform jacket despite not having been wearing it previously. Additionally his laugh is different here a "GEH HEH HEH HEH" instead of the usual "GYA HAH HAH HAH". Frankly I think this is a pretty decent theory since the last time we saw Denji as Chainsaw man was during the school attack like 20 chapters or so ago. In it he was wearing his school uniform

And since I have a Yoshida is Chainfraud man agenda

This is also the last form of Chainsaw man Yoshida saw Denji as. I may or may not have said it before but Octopods have the ability to mimic certain textures and colors. Their actual ability to do so depends heavily on what their species is. So a general octopus devil would probably have the abilities of all octopods. We also know that Yoshida is now apart of Public Safety from his discussion with Fami. Additionally he knows about Falling's appearance due to Fami telling him and Public Safety being there to try and take her down. So the idea of Yoshida showing up before Denji as Chainfraud man has some weight to it. Especially since we don't see Denji's face in this chapter.

Notice how this is the only panel we get of human denji before chainsaw man appears. However This entire point could be moot because I could easily see these oddities being written off as 1. We don't see denji's face because it's for the shock factor of chainsaw man appearing. 2. denji put on his jacket because he wants to look cool for the ladies 3. It's a slight translation error with his laugh since it's pretty close to his usual one. So is this Chainfraud man? Maybe. The biggest evidence against it is pretty simple.

He's able to regenerate from this meaning he's at bare minimum an actual devil. Could be a Fiend or Hybrid (which denji IS). Additionally from a narrative perspective what would the point of Chainfraud man showing up now be? For Denji to see him with he inevitably arrives? Main problem is, How is denji going to deal with Falling. Her regeneration is absolutely insane since she was able to get up seconds after being turned into swiss cheese. I've got high hopes for 126.

#chainsaw man #csm #denji hayakawa #falling devil #chainsaw man 125 #csm 125

[balsa-margarita]

From the upcoming chapter of Maiden Voyage

“That’s it, little lady!”

With a grin, Katara thrust one arm forward, watching as an arc of water followed it, splashing against the tree she’d been aiming at. She could actually feel the liquid now, and direct it more accurately than she had ever been able to figure out on her own.

It’s amazing how much of a difference just a few days makes…

“Thank you so much, Sifu Tho,” the Water Tribe girl said. “I went so long without-”

“Ah, it’s not a problem at all.” Raising a hand to adjust the large leaf on his head, the man smiled back. “We got off to a rough start, but that’s how things happen sometimes.”

As it turned out, the Foggy Swamp waterbenders had found them first - completely by accident, when Tho and a few friends of his had tried to hunt Appa. They had cleared up that misunderstanding quickly enough, though, and now Katara had a waterbending teacher. A very unusual one, but a teacher nonetheless.

This is awesome!

I know it’s not the same style as our tribe’s… but it’s still waterbending. 

Raising another globule of water from the muddy pool around her ankles, Katara launched it at a vine, trying to mimic the same feeling she’d had when she’d frozen the Fire Nation soldiers on Prince Zuko’s ship. The jet hit the thick green stem and partially froze, much of the water falling to the ground - the rest of the ice cut halfway through the vine. Somewhere in the distance, a shape fluttered away in surprise.

Hmm…

Tho winced a bit. “Works, I suppose.”

“I wanted to freeze it in place, not cut it.” That was something she could do, clearly - she could use ice as a sharp weapon if she had to, but it wasn’t what she had been after. “Like-”

“Foggy Swamp style ain’t made for ice,” the older waterbender drawled, glancing around them. “You threw it real fast, and it cut right through. But I can show you how to grab that vine with a tendril.”

Wait, really?

“That’d be amazing!”

“It’s a bit tougher than just throwin’ the water, but you can do it.” Giving her a nod, Sifu Tho moved in a quick, sharp motion, his hand twisting at the end. “The Avatar’s going to have to play catch-up when he gets back from going to look for Huu, whenever that is.”

#death-fires danced verse #katara #atla fanfic #katara gets a lesson in waterbending basics #aiming to have her progression feel more natural in this than it did in canon #small improvements are always nice

[simpfiles]

Okay but what are YOUR personal sfw/nsfw headcanons for Silco?

dude my silco is so boring lmao.

@eye-of-zaun mentioned that each banner could represent a member of the chem barons. if that's the case then i'd go a step further to say the symbol that sits above them is silco's. the way the s is shaped with the tendrils and circle in the middle makes it look like an eye. and we all know this dude has a thing for eye imagery.

everyone calls this man touch starved but he seems just fine touching himself. i am referring to the fact that he is always touching his face. if acne was a thing in league (doesn't look like it considering even the dirtiest of zaunites have flawless pours) silco would have had a major case of it as a teen.

probably picks at his scabs. not excessively but like, he can tell the scab is almost healed so he tries to hurry it along the way and it just ends up tearing skin again.

never had a pear in his life.

silco doesn't bat an eye to child labor because he was one himself. it's just something that happens in the undercity. also, call me a simp who's giving him far too much credit but i'd like to think that he's paying those kids.

obligatory 'silco is a villain and bad person' blah blah blah but also, he is honest to the core about his end goal. he wants the citizens of zaun to experience the same opportunities and respect that topside gets handed on a silver platter. so yeah. i'm saying this man paid those children.

unrelated note but modern silco would tip over 20%.

modern silco only pays with cash or checks. he hates credit cards.

i have 100 modern silco hcs. and 1000 other aus silco hcs that contradict themselves but one hc that will stay constant is that he has never had a pear in his life.

silco respects those who help themselves. when he says "[power] comes to those who will do anything to achieve it" i believe he doesn't mean become reliant on others or a drug to give yourself the illusion of power but that he fosters unbound ambition. because that is what zaun is to him. broken people who refuse to let their lot in life define them.

speaking of lot in life. silco doesn’t buy his clothes from piltover. he doesn’t try to mimic piltover’s fashion either. he is a proud zaun man through and through. he buys from zaun and supports zaun.

massive hoarder.

i'm obsessed with the fact that he doesn't curse in canon. and we can't even say that it's an act because we've seen him let loose and drop all pretense. whether he's alone or in the middle of making a horrible decision (ie the dinner party scene) he doesn't use colored language.

which makes me think his dirty talk is vastly different from the average generic lines that come from a porno. make no mistake, he talks dirty. with a voice like that how could he not? but his word choice is distinct and idiomatic.

he draws out his words. always starting with a command "shhhh. listen." he wants your full attention. to know that you're clinging to his words.

he is explicated in his expectations. “get on your knees and wait.” “stand and strip slowly.” “spread your legs and beg.” he wants to say more, those vulgar thoughts that swirl around his head when you look at him with eyes that make his blood race, but--- it takes him out.

here's part of a fic that never made it in the final draft: he’s uncut, a common occurrence among zaunites, with an impossibly long cock (another side effect of shimmer, perhaps?) that keeps sinking into you, until his hips are flush against yours.

would hate to be called daddy. i know it's the fandom's bread and butter it disgusts him. call him sir. call him mister. hell call him sweetie pie sugar hun baby. anything is better than his dick shrinking further into its turtleneck when you call him daddy during sex. side note: he really doesn't care pet names.

king of foreplay. he loves teasing others because he's a little shit.

he makes so much damn noise! his moans are sporadic and uncontrollable. everything about him is near uncontrollable when he gets into it, neither gentle or slow, he's chasing an end and his partner is just the means.

#Silco #Xian #was going to tag it as silco x reader but then i realized none of this mentions reader once #lmaoo my bad #if you wanted reader x silco hcs i guess send in again and i'll delete this post #lol

[marie-lamb-b]

@trashboatprince HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! Marie Lamb here was your dear Secret Satan!!!

I hope you enjoy this ^^ Because sending you those asks so awfully written really hurt me :’)

Anyways, taking what I thought was your dearest request, here you have it!!

Enjoy it and Happy Holidays!!! ^♡^

(Tumblr version under the cut)

(Trigger Warning: Body horror)

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH--!” Was her last, enraged shriek right before it was abruptly cut due to a cold, sharp pain that took the air out of her chest.

Dreadfully slow, feeling as that mimic of blood raised by her throat, she dared to look down, only to find the tip of a sword, the sword that... that... that impostor used to carry around.

She stabbed her. She tried to kill her! She inserted that foul, sinful weapon through her chest, rejoicing on her fear and silent panic, to later remove the sharp object from her—the only thing that ironically helped her to still stand on her feet, making her collapse onto the ground in a thump.

And as the inky blood run through her by routes that shouldn’t, clogging her lungs, dripping by her mouth, nose, and eye socket, and filling her ears with a deafening ringing, she saw them. Saw the impostor claiming her errand boy; saw the mangled wolf complying the silent orders of the fake angel, diving over the man and knocking him out in a swift movement; saw them picking the unconscious body of Henry up. And with steps that no longer needed to be furtive, they left, leaving her in solitude in the middle of the debris filled ballroom, waiting for the malicious ink to claim her, to finish the job and leave her for dead.

No... no, No, No! She was so close! After ages, she had finally found it! the heart of the most perfect Boris so far... Every other Boris she found and harvested, all grotesquely flawed with twisted muzzles, mangled arms, tails that shouldn’t be or even extra fingers; none of them worthy, none of them stable, their insides never did more than prolong what seemed inevitable. That, until she saw him.

His only flaw might have been the eyes –notches pointing to the wrong direction. And still, he was stable, he was strong, he could stand next to the demon itself and still prevail as immaculate as if taken right from the old reels.

He was the one. He was the closest to perfect. His heart could fix Alice at last! His... His heart...

She didn’t even have the chance to experience it, to prove that it was indeed the final piece, to see the results of all that has been her hard work! She didn’t...

Oh, Alice... She was so close, so almost perfect... even if she already was, she’d never have the chance to see it by herself, not anymore.

Did she achieve it? Was she at least stable enough? Would she even forgive her for all the atrocities she did to obtain what she desired most?

Black viscous tears trickled at the edge of her good eye as more questions roamed through her mind in her last moments. Hardly could differentiate whether they were real tears or just more of that cursed substance menacing to take her away from inside out. Not like it made any difference at this point.

She closed her eye, unwilling to see what she was about to inevitably feel. Only the ringing in her ears filled the deafening silence that solitude was.

She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t! She was just trying to fulfill what was promised to her. It wasn’t Alice’s fault to be so imperfect, it wasn’t! They... no. He. He was the one at fault. He was the real guilty! He made her that way... if only he’d have given her a chance instead of ditching her right away...

But now it didn’t matter anymore. She would never see her perfect face –if she even managed to make her perfect.

Did it worth it? So much hard work for... for... Nothing? Was she daring to doubt it?! How could—Of course it worthed it! Even if she’s not there to see it herself...

Soft, rhythmic thumps started to take place along the ringing in her ears. So quiet at first, she wasn’t really able to notice them at first. Only when the weak light that shone through her eyelid felt disturbed, she realized of the stop of that thumping sound, which ended with a rather abrupt stomp right next to her.

Something grabbed her arm, lifting it. Something solid it was, or at least more solid than she was in that moment. Her hand was pressed against something warm, rubbing its back, and drips hit her fingers; they felt so different, so alien to her own melting skin, warmer than her at first, but turning colder as they slithered through her arm until they became part of her own ink.

Was that a sob, she heard?

Slow, painfully slow, she struggled to open her eye. The dull light felt so blinding, even although there was something obtruding it from her sight, but was enough to engulf the figure right before—above her, backlighted, like a halo for a true angel.

Her features so delicate and soft, with a beauty only seen in the old cartoons, yet so very much real, so very much... angelic. She was so close to perfection, so close to be the true and only Alice Angel, as she should have always been. But even if she was close, she saw, still there was something off, something missing. However, it didn’t deter the smile that warily yet gleeful started to spread through her face.

“My sweet... little angel...” She hoarsely whispered, weakly reaching with her free hand to her face, thumb stretching in attempt to wipe away those tears made of ink from her face.

But her unstable, dying body felt too much the strain of that simple action, as ink clogged her so useless respiratory tract, sending her to a cough fit and spasms all through her body, quickening the ink claims over her, melting more and more.

With hurry in her mind and panic in her heart, the angel in desperation held her up in a sitting position, engulfing her with her arms, afraid of letting go, of losing her so soon. All the while her sobs hitched and jerked her body with every grasp of air.

“No... please, stop...”

“No, you stop!” Was the anguished answer she got, as inky tears streamed unstoppably, drenching the angel’s cheeks. “We... we’re supposed to do this... do this together. You weren’t supposed to... You shouldn’t have...” But the lump on her throat didn’t allow her to articulate any of her thoughts.

The woman in her rubbery arms tried to reach once again for her, but stopped midways, stare locked in her mournful face, on the frown that shouldn’t be there. But she’s the one at fault for upsetting her.

“I’m...” She reached again, thumb wiping away the angel’s tears, as she leaned on her hand, holding it with one of her own. “I’m sorry, Alice.” Was what she managed to hoarsely say, as her face softened, eye filling with reluctant acceptation and smile stretching in feeble reassurance.

“No... Susie, please, don’t--!” Panic filled the angel’s voice, making it quiver in her plea. “I don’t--... Don’t want to lose you, Susie, please...!” She managed to shout in a whisper, voice betraying her bleak attempt at bravery.

And so the angel curled over the fallen one, her body quaking entirely between sobs and gasps, holding Susie as tightly as she could, but afraid to squeeze too much, as she already felt the woman’s body dripping between her grasp.

Despair was not something she ever desired to see placed in her beautiful, sweet face. Yet there they were, feeling useless on how to comfort her little angel as she was the reason such despair took over her.

With all her insignificant might, she lifted again her gooey hand, intending to stroke some lose tuffs of hair off her face, but didn’t do much than just stick it together behind her ear with her dripping fingers.

What else could she do? the more the time passed, the closer she was to... to leave her... The ink was claiming her as tribute of her own death, and she knew that only would bring more suffering to her poor angel, leaving her alone, at her own luck in this hell she wasn’t meant to belong. She didn’t deserve this...

Treasuring the warm she gave her as her own heat faded, Susie let her head to limply tilt forward, placing it right on her shaking chest, feeling the soft, rhythmic beats of the heart that lied within her, as her eye closed while she only focused on them.

How many more would have she needed? She was the closest to perfection she ever was...! They were so close...

It was soft, but determination was gleaming through her half-lidded eye. Her angel was suffering, might not have been stable enough to resist it, and she was dying, would be lucky if any bit of her conscience blooms in one of those pathetic half-formed shapes; that would be too much to ask.

“My an... gel...” She hoarsely called her, pulling way too gently her chin so she could look at her. “I need... to ask you--”

“Susie, stop. Stop talking.” Alice begged with fear leaking through her quivering voice. “Don’t waste your strength. Please...!”

“No... Alice...” She was breathing raggedly, holding back coughs that tickled her throat. “Please, I need... I need you to listen...”

The fear in her round eyes had no right to be; she should be cheery and happy as the angel she was! Then again, hell was no place for angels, and she failed to take her out of there...

She had to do it. She needed her to be safe somehow.

“Alice... please...” Susie gently held her hand, the one engulfing her, and in a slow motion she placed the angel’s hand on her chest. “I need you... to take my heart.”

“What?!” She recoiled in shock, taking her hand away from the organ; some ink tendrils flying away from the fallen one due to the suddenness of her movement. “Susie I-- I, no! Susie, I can’t--!”

“You have to!” She winced at her own command, feeling the ink raising in her throat but containing it as best as she could, though a couple of coughs escaped before she was able to keep talking as weakly as before. “Alice, you have to. I... Alice, I’m not... not going to make it. If you don’t take it, the ink will claim it...!”

“But... Susie, if I do that, you... You won’t--...” Inky tears welled up in her black rounded eyes all over again, a knot in her throat was stopping her from verbalize the so dreadful thought: the total loss of her angel on hell.

Although even if grief was glistening in her golden eye, she already made up her mind. This was for her, even if the angel didn’t want to see it that way.

“If you don’t take it...” She pauses, slowly trying to reach for her hand, though her fingers were mostly melted by now, more like stubby shapes of what could have been fingers as they kept dripping more and more. “...then, Alice... I’ll be lost. No guarantees... of me returning as I am...”

“You don’t know it!” She protested, gently squeezing her hand back. “You... You already did! You can! You can come back!”

“What if I don’t?” She begged, her eye wide in a plea that, despite all her courage, couldn’t hide the growing fear of being lost in the darkness of the ink. “What if... if I become... one of those wrong, hideous monsters?!” Desperation drowned her voice. “What if I’m back as one... only to not recognize you... and attack you, hurt you?”

Alice was at loss of words. Denial wouldn’t let the possibility to down in her.

“No! Susie, that won’t happen!”

“How can you be so sure?” She defied, her hoarsely voice a stark contrast to the angel’s strong yet trembling voice. “What makes you believe... something like that won’t happen?”

Alice clenched her grasp around her fallen angel, as the hand she was holding was no more than a shapeless slime.

“Because...Because I know you, Susie.” She shook her head, as some drips of her own unstable and stressed ink flew around. “That won’t happen. You’ll be back as you! And... and then... Then we’ll be back together! And we’ll work our way out of here, just... just like we said!” With hollow hope she tried to reassure herself, giving away a cracked smile in a vain attempt to convince herself. “You’ll be back, Susie. You will. I know...!”

“And how long will it take?” The question froze the angel in her empty reassurances. “Do you remember... how long it took last time...? When I found you... you were almost a shapeless slug... unstable...” She paused, her voice just a thread from the knot in her throat and not from the ink. “I... I almost lose you...!”

“But... Susie, no. I’m more stable now. I can wait for you--!”

“No, you can’t!” Susie cut her off rather harshly, and painfully. “My angel, you’re... You’re not stable enough. The demon still can hurt you. You are spilling already your own ink...! And you still need... the hearts...”

Silence filled their space as Alice tried to think about it for a couple of seconds.

“I-- I'll stay out of sight! He can’t hurt me if he doesn’t find me! And... And I’ll harvest them! I can do it! I’ll just—just--...” She couldn’t keep talking, as the fearful yet disapproval stare of Susie relied on her widely.

“Do you realize... where those hearths come from? You can’t step... into his territory... Is too dangerous... and the ink...!” She tried to shift a little in her hold, to rub away the tear-like ink drips that flow from her good eye, finding rather difficult now that she didn’t have any remnant of legs. “Please, Alice... take it... Take my heart!”

“No...” She tightly shook her head, never breaking eye contact. “No... Susie, no. I can’t--...! I can’t...”

“You have to.” Was her final resolution, as she once again reached to grab Alice’s hand, this time with both of her shapeless, stump-like slimy rest of hands, and placed hers tenderly on her melting chest. “The ink... is already claiming me... Don’t let it take me away...!”

Between hiccups and sobs, she takes her hand away once again to wipe her own tears, hiding her stare as with a clenched jaw, she jerkily shakes her head in a painful and reluctant nod.

Were her body a bit more defined, she’d have slumped her shoulders in relief on her acceptance.

“That’s my angel.” She said, accompanied by a lovingly smile she still was able to muster.

Still jerkily, Alice placed her hand on her chest once more, spreading her fingers around the place where her heart was meant to be, pointed nails taking their position, rotating her wrist in hopes it would make it swift and smooth, and she bit her lower lip trying to gather enough courage to do as commanded.

“Alice...” Her whispering voice stopped her tracks, face jolting to her fallen angel’s. “Be strong for me, alright?” Her answer was a more assertive nod, biting her inner cheeks as tears fogged the las sight she had from Susie. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Susie.” Alice said with a cracked voice, as she leaned forwards to have one last kiss from her fallen angel.

Fear, sorrow and passion blended together as she pressed against the lips of her true, although fallen, angel. Dark tears ran down by both set of cheeks, yet Susie ones merged with her dripping ink altogether.

No much of her body was left as they still were unable to part away for an eternal farewell. Her hair, which Alice still held with her hand behind to straight her up, wasn’t more than a gooey mass that fell off in chunks as it joined the ever-growing pool of ink that used to be Susie’s body. She had no legs to stead her up, no arms to engulf her, but still her face, her lips, and her chest remained as solid as they could, at least to allow the angel to still embrace her fallen love.

Lips still pressed against each other and with closed eyes, she set her hand and fingers on her chest, readying herself to do as requested. She pressed hard, as much in her hold as in her kiss. And with a flick and a twist of her wrist, she drilled her way into her already soft chest, wrapping her fingers around the still beating heart, ripping it off her body right before the ink decided to claim that part as well.

And with no more to hold onto, she dared to open her eyes, only to see the still lingering face of Susie before the ink took her away definitively. She looked so relieved, so... peaceful, with a smile that actually reached her once scarred side with the purest sincerity. She was at peace, she would, now that she was sure her angel would be safe.

The angel stayed there in the deafening silence of the ballroom. The ink puddle that used to be Susie already gone, taken away by the malicious substance that keep them all trapped. And Alice stayed there; quiet sobs filled the emptiness that now resided in what used to be her domain, and with blurred sight she stared at the organ she left behind in hopes to save her.

The heart still beat, soft rhythmic thumps only audible for her. This was all that’s left of the sweet fallen angel, and she couldn’t do more than hold it tight in her embrace, afraid to let go, afraid to lose her at all, as the sobs grew louder and louder in the middle of her mourning.

And yet she already knew well what she must do with the heart. Susie gave it to her to protect her, to save her. Maybe not now, she wasn’t ready. But she had to. After all, this would accomplish what she always wanted, what she always worked for her. It was for Susie, to become her perfect angel.

#BATIM #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Secret Satan #Secret Satan 2019 #BATIM Secret Satan 2019 #Susie Campbell #Alice Angel #Susie/Alice #Trigger Warning #TW: Body horror #I did a thing! #I wrote a thing! #Lamb's work

[codylabs]

Chapter 25: The End of Fate

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Wendy strained one last time at the webs holding her to the wall. She thought she felt a few strands breaking near her legs, but their failure did nothing to weaken the rest of the material. In fact, the more she wiggled around and tried to loose herself, the more the webs just stuck and mashed together, the more they bonded to her skin, and the more her muscles yielded to fatigue. After a minute or so she gave up, no closer to freedom and feeling significantly more like a cocooned insect.

She could move her fingers. She could move her toes. She could move her neck and her eyes, but that was the limit of her. Her arms, legs, torso, all her body… It no longer obeyed her. All she could do was stare at the monster, as it stared back.

The Shapeshifter’s mother. Some kind of time-traveling mystery character, who’d seen thousands of years of history, who’d killed people throughout them, who seemed to know everything, and who most likely ate people. Wendy could feel the eyes probing and inspecting, as indifferently as one might regard a museum piece, or a slab of meat.

The beast took a step toward her.

She could kill me. Wendy knew. She could kill me if she wanted, and I can’t even move.

…Wait, was she an ‘it’? Or was it a ‘she’? Wendy briefly wondered to herself. A person or a thing? How do you refer to intelligent creatures which act like this? Are they still rational beings? Or can you really be so evil and twisted that you forsake your own soul?

Wendy was quite too mad to really care.

“Let me down.” She told her, as she came closer. “Come on, you grimy old sack of phlegm! Let me down or I’ll beat the living daylights out of you! Come on!”

She stopped about 3 feet from Wendy, and peered down at her face. “I thought I gagged you.” She replied calmly, as she inspected the stray scraps of webbing around Wendy’s mouth.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should use more than weird spider webs next time.” Wendy growled. “Something I can’t just chew up and spit out.”

“Probably good advice.” Her head widened slightly, and her teeth shapeshifted into some kind of slobbering, many-tendrilled orifice, which then secreted a stringy mass of webbing. She rolled the material into a tight ball with her hands.

“Well, it’s just common sense.” Wendy tried to shrug. “I mean, if I had some alien tied up in my basement, you can bet I’d make darn su—” She squeezed Wendy’s cheeks, forced her mouth open, shoved the ball in between her teeth, and pasted it in place with another web across her face.

Wendy took a deep breath in through her nose, as she silently glared.

The creature calmly wiped the excess gunk off her hands, then eased to a seated position on the floor. They were both silent for a moment, one by necessity, one for thought.

“I know lots of things.” The shifter finally remarked. “From lots of times, from lots of places.”

“Mmf mf.” Wendy retorted.

“Some of them happen to be about you.” She said. Her body rearranged into the form of Mr. Sherman, her PE coach from grade school. “Wendy Blerble Corduroy…” Mr. Sherman’s voice hummed with perfect clarity. “You did pretty well on the football and wrestling teams during elementary and middle school… And word on the street is, you ‘kind of ruled’ in the annual lumberjack games…”

“Rgf mmf.” The gag made it easy to hide her confusion. Wait a minute, was Mr. Sherman the shapeshifter all along? How does THAT make sense? What the heck?

The shifter’s form changed again, this time solidifying as a short, intense Asian man: Mr. Chiu, her science teacher from just last year… “Although both your grades and extra-scholastic endeavors declined steadily through your teen years.” Mr. Chiu’s voice told her. Wait a minute! Wendy thought. Mr. Chiu has a human daughter. He couldn’t have been her all along… She must have… Wait, what? “Perhaps.” The image of Mr. Chiu continued. “Was it because you discovered friends in lower circles? Or as you became increasingly disillusioned with the world…?” She transformed into Toot-Toot McBumbersnazzle, aka Blind Ivan. “Or perhaps as the late Blind Eye Society trimmed back your working knowledge whenever you happened across something you ought not see…” Okay, there’s no WAY that HE was her this entire time… So how DOES she know so much…? It morphed again, and she was looking at and listening to her own dad… “However it worked, you got it through yer noggin’ that everything ya did was just useless and pointless… Guess ya figured on how easy it was to sit on your butt and do nothing at all. So ya threw yer life away, and turned inta the lazy one…”

Wendy glared.

The mimic of her father leaned in a little closer. “Yeah, that’s it, ain’t it? The Wendy that allll them school records show. Always so darn chill, always calm, level, and cool… But as far as the world’s concerned, less than useless…” It sounded and felt like her own dad talking. Gruff as ever. Candid as ever. Right as ever…

The shape changed again, to Stanley Pines. “No…” Her former employer scratched his chin skeptically, and adjusted his glasses. “No it’s not. That’s ain’t you, not anymore. Now I hear yer doing better in school, ya had a hand in eliminating the Blind Eye, in that rascal Bill’s defeat, and now in even deeper, stranger matters…”

She took the form of Robbie, which set off some alarm in Wendy’s mind, as she remembered that Robbie was probably dead… “You, like, don’t fear anything at all…” Robbie’s voice told her. “You fight robots on Tuesday, Aliens on Wednesday, ghosts on Thursday… All sorts of crazy adventures, you’re probably real close to a lot of things you really shouldn’t see…” And now the shifter looked like Tambry. “People don’t ever change.” Tambry told her. “They get changed. So why are you different all of a sudden? What changed you? Your job at the tourist trap selling junk? Mr. Pines, that old jerk you worked for?” Tambry put her hands on her hips. “Or something else, like your new friends?”

Now the shifter shrunk down to the size of a child. A very familiar size. A very familiar shape… Before Wendy had a chance to mentally prepare herself to look at this, she found her eyes locked with those of Dipper. “Was it me?” It was his voice again, his old, familiar, youthful voice. The voice tore into the weird corners of Wendy’s mind, upsetting everything, confusing everything; she was defenseless against it. Dipper. She blinked. DIPPER! She tried to shake her head. Dipper’s dead… Dipper! “…Was it Dipper…?” Dipper asked.

Wendy couldn’t quite find words.

“Sorry.” The Dipper mimic smiled awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I guess… I guess what I really want to get down to is the cause of things. Why are you the way that you are? What happened, where, when… What made you? If it was Dipper, then what made him who he was? Who guided you? Trained you? Inspired you, knighted you, blessed you? What force of fate, chance or choice placed this destiny in your lap, and bid you go and become a hero?”

What a strange thing to ask.

“You do know.” The Dipper mimic insisted. “I know you’re not stupid, I know you know what I’m asking… Just c’mon, please Wendy?” The intonation of his voice matched Dipper’s so perfectly for a moment that she couldn’t help but recoil. Dipper’s hands reached up and peeled the gag off her mouth. “Like, c’mon, I can tell there’s something you’re not saying. Maybe many things? …No, just one thing… Yeah, there’s one secret you swore to always keep from me, and what’s that? C’mon, you can tell me… I mean, why not at this point, huh? Ha ha… Yeah…”

Wendy flexed her jaw, enjoying the ability to once again breath freely. Dipper’s hand reached up and brushed gently across her cheek. The thin, cold little fingers felt just exactly like his… Cognitive dissonance hit like another wet slap, as half her brain believed for a moment that it was him.

But of course, it wasn’t. And she didn’t believe it. “Go die in a hole, you PSYCHO!” She screamed.

“Whaaaat, c’mon Wendy!”

“You—”

“Hey now, you don’t want me to use the tentacles.”

“The? Wait, tenta—”

“I guess I wouldn’t mind though.” Two of the fingers on Dipper’s hand grew and expanded into a pair of stiff, thin, sharp little appendages, which he then shoved up Wendy’s nostrils.

It hurt.

Wendy thrashed around, tried to pull away, tried to turn and hide her face, tried to reach her hands in to help, but nothing worked; they were working their way deeper into her skull. Wendy’s furious struggling managed to break some of the webs holding her head in place, but the extra movement just made the probes hurt a hundred times worse.

IT HURT.

“You.” Dipper said. “Who were you? Who are you? And why?”

Wendy emitted a furious cry; a guttural, feral sound she didn’t know she had in her, and arched up to try to bite the hand. Her teeth clacked in the empty air.

Dipper’s voice burst out laughing. “An animal!” He said, as he drug Wendy’s head back down to face forward. “An animal pretending to be a person! A person priding in its ingenuity, modesty, fair judgement, rationality; the kinda things that set it above the beast. But deep, deep down, beyond the walls of faith and friendship, only nature remains. Now that you have lost these things, you’re getting the point where you cross the line. Maybe you already crossed it?”

“Die! In! A! Hole!” She managed.

“How can you say that? Look at your body, sick, weak, helpless, invaded, bound… It’s not your body, it’s mine now, and I see it as nothing but so much meat… So what do you hang on to? How can you spit in my face, when you dangle precariously at the end of yourself? Why aren’t you afraid? Do you believe yourself to be strong? Indestructible? Or is this fleshy body nothing but meat to you as well? What made you into this thing, this thing that thinks itself fearsome?”

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!”

“Remember everything you still have left to lose! Your sanity! Your honor! Your dignity! Your soul! How long until there is nothing left of Ms. Corduroy for me to speak to? How long until there’s nothing on this wall but a wild, snarling dog?!?”

“YOU SHUT UP!” Wendy screamed.

The lights flicked off in the room, leaving Wendy with no perception of the world except the sloppy sounds of creature’s movement, the taste of her own blood, and the pain…

She felt the fingers curling inside her nose, pulling her forward. Then they pushed, and slammed her head against the metal wall behind her. Then they pulled again, and they slammed again, and again, and now her entire head hurt and she could barely concentrate, and she could feel something inside her head splitting and stinging, as if with every blow was drilling the dreaded things deeper, closer to her brain.

Tiny, sharp, incredible pains shot through her arms and legs now too, and she guessed the shapeshifter must have put other limbs to work as well, poking and prodding and crawling over her like the probing limbs of some spidery thing, drilling and cutting and who knows what else. And all through it, there was just this darkness, hiding whatever else may be in store…

Why is this even happening? Why does it have to hurt? And why do I care whether this THING knows or not anyway? It’s not like it’s super important, or even true… What’s the point in keeping secrets? What’s the point in screaming threats? What’s the point in even trying? Just kill me! KILL ME!

All alone, in great pain, at the end of everything, Wendy finally panicked.

“11:03 THIS MORNING!” She gasped.

The pounding ceased. The poking and the stabbing paused.

“What was that, red?” Dipper’s voice asked.

“Eleven…” Wendy screwed her eyes shut, and felt tears trickle down her face. “Eleven-oh-three this morning… This morning… You’ll see… My secret…”

Slowly and painfully, the fingers pulled out of Wendy’s nose.

She sneezed up blood.

“Broken at last.” The creature remarked in its natural voice.

The gag was crammed back in her mouth, the loosened webs were reinforced, and then the monster retreated. She must have had a second time machine besides the one she gifted her son, because she promptly disappeared in a flash of blue light, leaving Wendy alone.

All seemed suddenly quiet and still… But not empty. All around her, she could feel the evil standing; threatening, near, haunting… It was danger, it was fear, this malignant force that watched and taunted and worked deeper, searching out those corners of her brain that hadn’t yet been violated. And one by one, as hopeful thoughts stood, up, it crushed them down, reminding her that she was broken, and helpless, and small. Nothing but a tiny, squealing animal, hanging on the wall.

She blinked.

I need to escape…

Wendy knew she couldn’t escape.

I need to bust loose…

How on Earth could she ever bust loose?

I need to stay conscious. Alert…

That was looking difficult…

I need to think…

Wendy couldn’t think.

I need to think…!

She wasn’t good at thinking.

I NEED TO THINK!

She never had been the thinking one. She was just the athletic one. The fighting one. The level one. The calm one. Dipper was the thinking one. Dipper was the creative one. Dipper was the hero, and I was just his crush. Just his sidekick. Just there to make sure he didn’t get hurt…

Dipper…

I knew you.

Know you.

I was your crush. I was your protection. And I was your calm.

Now I guess I’ve failed all three.

She sneezed again. Her chest heaved painfully, and more blood dribbled over her lips and down her chin. Dipper… She could barely breath, past her flooded nose and the gag in her mouth, so she gasped and wheezed every breath, as she croaked, and coughed, and cried, and bled. I’m sorry… I never told you that you were a great guy…. I never told you how much you meant to me… I let you die, left you for others to bury, I just stormed off and got myself here… And now I panicked… And now I played the fool with a monster who doesn’t even know you… I gave up my secret… I gave up OUR secret… She cried and she bled. I’m sorry…

He wasn’t who the shifter pretended to be. He wasn’t that. He wouldn’t say or do those things, wouldn’t taunt her for not being as indestructible as she seemed…

What would he say if he were here?

If Dipper were here…

Well. First of all, he’d probably be all like: ‘Wait, what secret? What’s so special about 11:03?’ He was a curious guy; always did have a hard time knowing when to mind his own business.

Wendy scraped her cheek against her shoulder as hard as she could, and managed to loosen some of the webs holding the gag in place. After a minute or so, she was able to get her tongue past the edges of it, and break the rest of the strings. Then she spat the ball to the ground, and was able to breathe easily again. The oxygen was little reconciliation for the rest of her suffering, and she may have swallowed some of the sticky gunk by accident.

If Dipper were here…

‘At 11:03 this morning…’ She would have muttered to him. ‘I… Kinda let Stan in on my secret… If creepy-face warps back to then, she’ll know too… Ha ha… I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going crazy, that’s why I told Stan… But I guess I’m still not sure… Guess I’ll never know…’

He would’ve been quick to deny her angst. ‘You’re not crazy… Y’know the stuff she said about being an animal isn’t true. You… You’re not. You’re not crazy. You’re not.’

‘… I guess everyone reaches a point, dude… Guess it just takes one bad day…’

He wouldn’t be quite sure how to counter that. ‘So… I dunno. So what’s the secret?’ He would’ve changed the subject.

Yeah, I never did tell him that one. Real shame, because I guess it was his secret as well as mine… If he were here, if things were looking this bad, I guess I probably would have admitted it to him. If we’re both to die, he deserves to know. She would have told him. ‘…I met myself last fall.’ She would’ve blurted reluctantly. ‘My future self. She came time-traveling back from maybe a decade down the road, and she talked to me… So she’s a big part of the reason I’m working harder in school, going on these adventures, and doing better with things in general… Like Momma Shifter said, I got changed…  Didn’t want her to know, because… I don’t know. It’s private. It’s cool… And after everything I lost, I didn’t want to lose that too…’

‘Woah… What was she like?’ Wendy turned her head to the left in the darkness. If Dipper had been here with her, he would have been captured too. He would’ve been webbed up in the empty spot next to her… She imagined him there now, and wondered again if she really was going crazy.

‘Uh… Real chill… Real chill.’ Wendy recalled. ‘Totally decked out in futurey gear though, like some kinda time-cop. She was wearing this big robotic suit of armor, she had weapons, and a time machine…’

‘…Did she say anything about me?’ Dipper would have asked. Well, no, actually he wouldn’t say that. He’d just think that. Out loud, he’d just nervously mumble something lame like… ‘Huh, wow. Robot suit, huh?’

‘Heck yes she mentioned you.’ Wendy would have replied. ‘Yeah… She said you were a great guy. An example to learn from, even… In fact!’ Wendy crossed the point of no return, and spat it out. ‘She said! She said that you end up being my husband for some reason! We’re married! How ‘bout that?’

That would have taken a couple seconds to sink into his brain. And then he would have freaked out for a several minutes at least.

‘Yeah, c’mon, see? See why I never told you?’ She would’ve scoffed, tried to downplay it. ‘You make this whole relationship weird and awkward enough without me dropping the “oh-hey-it’s-destiny-or-something!” bomb in the middle of things.’

‘WELL! BUT! I! UGH! AH! WHAT?!’

‘Look… Just calm down, it doesn’t matter, all right? I mean… It’s not even true. You’re dead. And now I’ll be dead. Somehow it wasn’t real… And now I don’t even know what’s happening! Everything’s falling apart and dying so fast; you, my friends, my dad… And to top it off, I sang like a canary after a measly 5 minutes of torture! I lost my calm! She got to me…! Like, what’s the point in even trying? I’m not strong any more… Dipper, if I’m not the strong one, then who am I?’

He would’ve forced his mind back on-topic; he was good at that. He would’ve thought about it all for a minute, trying to think of something wise to say. Then he’d finally say it, and it wouldn’t be very wise at all; just sweet and simple and caring… Something like, ‘Don’t you remember? You’re a flippin’ Corduroy!’

‘A flippin’ Corduroy…’ She sighed. ‘…Why did you idolize me so much, dude? Everything meaningful I ever did was just because I had to or because I was bored…’

‘Well—’

‘You know you could’ve done better than me… Guy like you could’ve set your sights higher; fallen in love with somebody beautiful and talented… A genius, or a super hero, or a princess…’

‘UH…!’ He would’ve hurried to interject ‘W-w-would it, like, be too cheesy to say you’re a princess to me?’

‘Oh my friggin’…’ She tried not to roll her eyes. ‘You…! Oh… Geez, okay, focus. C’mon Dipper. C’mon, help me out here, look at this rationally, what do I DO? How do I get out of this? I can’t fight time-traveling monsters, can I? Time traveling monsters that can be anyone, do anything…’

‘Well… I don’t… Uh…’

‘You have to know! I got myself into this mess, and now you have to get me out of it! Come on… You always know! You’re the smart one! You’re always able to ad-lib some kinda plan! Always!’

‘Umm… I don’t know… Oh man, I wish I could reach my journal…’

Wendy’s eyes drifted across the darkened room to the place where it was lying among her other confiscated stuff. ‘I can’t reach it either… But well, hey, I have been reading it the last couple nights since you died, so I remember a lot of it… Why?’

‘It’s got my notes on time travel…’

‘Uh… Oh, wait wait, yeah, I read those! I read them… What about ‘em?’

‘Well… Okay, think. Think about it: When did you see your future self?’

‘Huh?’

‘When did you see her? Before I died, or after?’

‘Before! Duh… I tried to write down a time and date to bring her back AFTER you died… But she didn’t show…’

‘Okay… Okay… Okayokayokay… Okay, So! Why wouldn’t she show up after Sam killed me?’

‘Umm…’ Wendy thought about that. Up to now, she’d just blindly accepted that something changed; that for some reason, it didn’t work anymore. But why? She tried to put it together. ‘Maybe… Maybe when he killed you, he changed the future? Yeah, so in this reality, I die right now instead of later, so she isn’t able to come back for me…’

‘But if you die right now, then how would she have been able to come back in the first place? If this is the way the future goes, then how could she ever have existed?’

‘The future changed…’

‘No no no! Remember my notes! What did I say?’

‘Uh…’ Wendy racked her brain. ‘I don’t… There wasn’t anything in there about this. Just one part about you trying to fix a mistake and then something about a baby and some gladiator battle…’

‘The first one. The mistake. Do you remember what happened?’

‘Well… I remember you were pretty vague; what was the mistake again?’

‘Doesn’t matter. All that matters is what happened! What happened? Remember!’

‘Uh… Well… Didn’t you say it didn’t work for some reason? Right? Yeah… You said it didn’t work…’

‘Right!’

‘And then…’

‘Then?’

‘Then one time… You said you tried really really hard, and actually did change it… But even then, circumstances forced you to go back in time by your own free will, and change it back…’

‘Exactly. No matter what I did, no matter WHAT, fate intervened to set history on its proper course… Even when I succeeded in one place, another place failed. Eventually even I gave up.’

‘Okay… So what does that mean?’ Wendy forced herself to think. ‘What does that mean, how does it all connect?!? Does that mean no matter what I do, I’m gonna die here?’

‘No! It just means that there’s only one reality, Wendy. You can’t change the future more than an inch, and even if you do, it’ll iron out the wrinkles itself. It’ll stabilize… And… And now this is great! This is great! Because remember, you’ve seen the future!’

‘…The future where I become… Like, a time-travely warrior thing?’

‘Yeah! Where we’re mar—’

‘Shut up.’

‘Ah! Sorry. I mean…! …I mean that future-you must have come from a time after all this… After the wrinkles get ironed out. After reality stabilizes. Which means that after today, after whatever happens next, somehow that’s the reality that’ll remain. And that’s probably why she couldn’t come back to today! Because this time is fated to get decay out and disappear. Get replaced…’

‘But…’

‘But what?’

‘…But how? What do I do to do that?’

‘Umm…’ Dipper came up short. This was as far as his optimistic reasoning took him, and he really didn’t know what to say next. ‘Well… I… I dunno. Time logic says something has to happen… I think… I guess you might outsmart her, or you might outfight her, or outfox her or out-time her… Uh… Heck, it might not be you; maybe somebody else entirely will find a way to change things. But I’m pretty sure something has to happen sometime, and if you’re the last one left, then… It’s pretty much up to you… It’s like destiny or something.’

‘But… Are you sure? What if… I mean, you don’t know everything. Your journal doesn’t know everything. What if this is all just… Stupid wishful thinking…?’

‘…You tell me; are you sure that it was you last fall? The time traveler?’

‘…Yes.’

‘And…’ His voice would have faltered just slightly. ‘Are you sure that that future is something you want?’

‘Well…’ Wendy thought for a minute.

If he were here, he would be trying not to stare at her, but still hanging on her every word, waiting for her reply. He’d said all he could say, and now he wanted to know if she would fight to the bitter end. Whether or not she could still keep her faith, even when everything seemed to be standing in the way, even after everyone who could ever help was gone, even if unspeakably twisted beasts tried to cut their way into her mind. He wanted to know if she would be willing to fight to the death to save him. He wanted to know if she loved him.

Wendy almost laughed when she realized what was being said. ‘Well, duh! Come on dude, of course!’

He would have nodded nervously; he was still a little stressed, a little overwhelmed, a little frightened. But now, he knew how she felt. He knew her secret. He wished he didn’t know it, because yeah: it did make everything weird. But still, he knew that this weak and hopeless prisoner would one day be his wife.

He believed it.

So he would have found a way to smile, and ask. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Wendy awoke with a start.

Just a dream.

…Just a dream? Naw… Naw, wait a minute, why would I have been sleeping anyway? Blood loss? Shock? General weirdness? No, that’s no reason to sleep… And that wasn’t a normal dream either… I dunno, that must’ve been Dipper’s ghost or some crap! …Or a wizard. Or some kinda time-traveling pseudo-memories from a timeline that never happened. Or the Shifter using psychic powers to deceive me… Or maybe it was just some kinda weird, prophetic dream that happens because… Reasons…

Oh, who am I kidding? It was nothing! Nothing at all… Everyone knows dreams never mean anything at all.

Of course they don’t.

But meaning or not, it made sense. It actually made a whole gob of sense.

She believed it.

Wendy shook her head to clear the last of her confusion, then took a deep breath to prepare herself. Her nose was still totally clogged up, but at least the bleeding had stopped, and she’d gotten that blasted gag loose.

Please God. She thought to pray. Make it all true. Help this all turn out alright.

She began to breath really heavily and quickly. She’d heard of scuba divers doing this before a deep dive; it’s to flood the body with oxygen and give you more energy.

When she felt fully riled up, she threw her entire weight to the left, curled with her left arm and pulled on her right, trying with every ounce of strength to pull it loose. When the webs digging into her wrist became too excruciating to bear, she threw herself to the right and tried to pull her left arm loose. That didn’t work either.

Dang it.

She relaxed after a moment, defeated yet again.

But when she wiggled her shoulders, she found the bands to be loosened at least partially. Maybe if she tried again in a couple minutes, after her muscles stopped hurting, and then another couple minutes after that, and again after that… Maybe she could eventually get free? It all depended on how long the shifter would take to get back… What was taking so long, anyway?

“Thought I gagged you.” The voice interrupted.

Wendy jumped. The voice unnerved her, startled her, reminded her of the pain that was still so near, and filled her imagination with pain to come… Before Wendy had time to fear, she reminded herself that she angry.

Bitterly, furiously angry.

Wendy Corduroy. Angry Corduroy. Flippin’ Corduroy.

There was gonna be payment. There was gonna be pain.

“You do realize I was able to just reappear the split second I left, don’t you?” The monster asked, with a tone like a smirk.

Wendy’s voice came out rather calm. Surprisingly calm, even to her. “…Oh yeah, I knew that.” She nodded smoothly. “Simple time logic, that’s what that is… So hey, I guess you know my secret now? How you like it? Bet you’re pretty surprised to find out you’ve got a time traveler locked in your basement, huh?”

“No… Not really. I get all types…” The lights in the room flicked back on. They weren’t very bright all considering, but after perfect blackness, Wendy still felt like blinking. The monster gestured to one of the skeletons on the wall. The body was human; and seemed to have some kind of cybernetic thing hanging from one eye socket. Its torso was plated in dusty, dark grey armor. “That one was a time traveler too.” She said, as she wiped a bit of dust off the hourglass insignia on the breastplate. “Lieutenant something-or-another. Very brave old man, very proud. Wouldn’t speak a word besides his name and rank… At least at first. But he cried out for his mother days later, and now I know all that he knew.” She pointed to another human cyborg skeleton. “That one, also a time traveler. He was head of his class at the time-academy, but applied all that knowledge just three and a half seconds too late.” She pointed again, this time to the lanky, squid-like skeleton of one of the ship’s crewmembers. “And the clever nuclear engineer. He knew every single bolt and beam of this vessel, and yet he failed to hide from me. That one? Top security officer of the whole place. He didn’t want to surrender the drone control codes, but such is the way of things… That one? A most prestigious scientist, master of everything from nanobiology to embryotic mutation decay. One of the smartest men I’ve ever talked too, he almost convinced me not to eat him. And her? Ex-convict. Stowed away on the ship to escape a death sentence on her homeworld. She devised all kinds of clever ways to escape from me too, but you can see how they ended. That one?” The shifter pointed to a metal skeleton, with clawed hands, a mouthful of saws, and dead aluminum eyeballs that had never quite rotted. “You know him; maybe even met him… Yes? Last survivor of a colony of intelligent machines. He was a truly great man in his life. Intelligent. Determined. Prepared. And an entirely good and noble man as well, stood for nothing but truth, honor, and the safety and preservation of loved ones… But he’s gone like the rest… Such a shame.”

“Yeah.” Wendy shrugged. “Nice collection… But, uh… None of them were destined to kick your butt though.”

The shifter turned to her. “So.” Her voice grated menacingly, like the tearing of cloth. “You claim a future version of yourself came into your life and directed you to become who you are… I’m sure it was a strong and powerful woman that came striding forward, reaching out to you as if out of your imagination, out of a dream, a wish, a vision, and made itself come true… Except it didn’t. Over time, this hard life beat you right back down from the lofty heights it raised you to, until it has proven to be just a wish after all, just a fancy, a youthful dream…” She chuckled. “Really, the only surprising part of your story is that you would even consider your secret a secret. The only surprising thing was how defeated and dejected you acted when I extracted a piece of trivia so petty and meaningless…”

“Yeah, well…”

“Oh, wait… Hold on a moment; you still think it’s true, don’t you? Really! What a wild idea; that a thing could give rise to itself. And not just some twisted, random, chaotic thing, but a thing of beauty, pride, heroism… It must have a cause, but what? Who sent it? Who sent it to you, that you might send it to yourself? And if nobody sent it, then how and why would fate choose a wild, rebellious animal like a Corduroy? Didn’t it ever dawn on you that somebody’s been lying to you all along? Did it ever even cross your mind?”

The shifter’s voice broke and changed now. Wendy couldn’t quite place it; it sounded familiar from somewhere… But then her body began to shift and morph. Four legs became two. White mucus hardened into flesh. Hard, dark plates formed together, rose up, and interlocked into armor. Little bioluminescent lights began to glow in high-tech patterns, and features solidified on the face.

The eyes… The hair… The suit of futuristic robotic armor… Wendy stared.

“Look familiar?” The monster ran a gloved hand through her long red hair, smiled her freckled, adult face, and twirled a futuristic axe. “You get good enough at shapeshifting, you can start inventing forms. How do you like this one? All I had to go on was your own appearance, and a little imagination…”

Wendy stared, and blinked, and stared again. She found herself at a loss for words.

“Perhaps I’ll head back to last Fall with this, and say some nice things to you. To make you do all the helpful things you’ve done since… What do you think of that?”

Wendy didn’t speak.

“…Or…” A smile twitched at the corners of the mimic’s mouth. “Or do you still believe you know the future?”

Wendy thought about this, as she stared at the perfect image of her dream. The image rested a hand on its hip, and stood in that characteristically powerful, proud, relaxed way… It really, truly was exactly how she remembered it.

My future self.

The promises. The mission. The hope. The vision.

It was all lies…

No…

No.

“No…” Wendy said.

The mimic cocked its head.

“No…” Wendy repeated. “Wait… You’ve seen her.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve seen her! Seen me! That’s how you know what she looks like; you’ve met her… You’ve probably fought her, that’s it!” Wendy flexed her fingers, preparing to assault her bindings again. “You knew it all along! You’re trying to get in my head, trying to probe me and hurt me and BREAK me to prevent me from becoming who I AM, but you KNOW! You know the reason she didn’t show up this morning! It’s ‘Cause I’m gonna escape! This… This is destiny or something! I’m gonna fight my way across time and space to save my friends and my family, save the day, be the HERO! And then we’re gonna take what’s left of you, feed half to the pig and use the rest as VEGETABLE OIL!”

“YOU?” It scoffed, and gestured again to the skeletons. “When I’ve hunted and killed and eaten all who came before? Time travelers! Warriors! Scientists! Inventors! Heroes…! And now you! Hanging among the remains of better people, tell me:” Her voice rose to a screeching, furious, monstrous pitch as she raised her arm. The hand flattened itself, and sharpened into the fine edge of a large blade. Then she leapt at Wendy, lashing the deadly blade directly for her torso. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!?”

Wendy didn’t blink.

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! *

The computer console in a corner of the room chimed loudly.

By some unforeseeable, freak act of fortune, the alarm seemed to distract the shifter for a fraction of a second.

The blade missed Wendy’s body.

“WARNING!” The console chimed, in a language that was most certainly not English. “INTRUDERS DETECTED INCONCLUSIVE REFERENCE CODE RETURN THREAT LEVEL UPGRADED TO JELLY ROLL ONE: ERROR 443\]kl;/oij#JE’~~3Dde~~~”

The Shifter spun toward the computers and began to head toward them, outraged at the improbable, incredible, inconceivable timing of the interruption.

Wendy realized that the blade had actually severed most of the webs.

She threw herself forward, and her left arm ripped free. Her right arm followed it. Then she grabbed a sharp scrap of metal, and with one long slice tore through the material on her legs.

With a final push, her boots landed on the ground with a dull thud.

She stood up.

The Shifter glanced back at the human. She saw the tangled, matted hair, the faded blue hat, the clenched fists, the blood-stained lip, the furious little scowl, and the dark, murderous thoughts behind those green eyes. She thought that this was getting a little too complicated and improbable for a standard hostage situation; she should probably time-travel back by about 5 minutes, to find out the source of the alarm ahead of time, and undo her accidental severing of the human’s bonds.

Quickly though, before something worse happened.

But she was too late, because something worse was already happening.

There was a brilliant blue flash of light,

a tiny yellow machine was suddenly flying through the air,

And Wendy caught it.

“Who do I think I am? Funny you should ask that…” Wendy smiled, as she ad-libbed a plan.

“I’m a flippin’ Pines.”

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek #dang I didn't realize how dark this was when I was writing it. But now that I drew the picture... Daaaaang.

[starlitesymphony]

Novel Snippet #2

I was really tickled by your response to the first one (thanks again, you guys rock!) Here’s a much longer one, featuring grand-theft starship--and also some of Quin’s abilities. Space station security? No biggie!

You can read the blurb for Ark of the Timelost and the 1st snippet here.

@lady-redshield-writes, @ally-thorne, @toboldlywrite, @writeontheedge, @writerray, @hklunethewriter, @danceny, @loveiseldritch (please let me know if you’d like off the list--or on)

The shuttle hatch splits open and Maddox steps out like we’ve just arrived in Gallanthius’s Central Promenade. A loose swarm of people fill the cylinder-shaped concourse, emerging from and stepping into airlocks on all sides. The shuffling of footsteps is nearly louder than the sparse conversation. 

I stride after him, resolving to mimic his professional air. Every color of uniform streams around me. The occasional floral dress or casual top break up an otherwise very official crowd. All of them with hair cropped in a practical manner. All of them at least a head shorter than either of us.

|Not to worry,| Maddox messages. |Here, the more you stand out, the fewer questions they ask.|

I catch a few sideways glances in my periphery, but soon focus on his back and the art of walking casually. By now, security is watching, perhaps even following. I haven’t spotted anyone yet. I bet Maddox has, though.

It’s odd. All of these officers, all of these middle-aged and even elderly people, all of them traveling alone, with no apprentice in sight. I know the Imperian military is entirely unlike the Troika. But it still feels more foreign here than I thought it would. And they just seem…so old. Maddox is old, really old, but he doesn’t resemble them in the slightest.

We board a sterile trolley with a somber group in burgundy and silver. Their eyes are too busy with glinting cortex feeds to pay us much mind, other than sideways glances from two younger women with matching jeweled insignia on their neck scarves.

Almost everyone files into the hall on our first stop. Maddox and I move toward the front. Soon, after the next stop, we find ourselves alone, whisking along increasingly rusted and mossy tunnelways with only the occasional blocky hatch on either side. Moments of darkness pass where lights have broken. This may be a space station, but it feels like a derelict mine, left to decay long after its ores had been extracted.

|What is this place?| I tap. We couldn’t have missed our stop. Maybe we’re going to some forgotten security terminal.

|The Imperia has to keep its decommissioned starships somewhere, in case a new prisma deposit is discovered, although that particular hope is roughly six centuries dead.|

|Couldn’t they grow more ships, though? If more prisma was ever found.|

Maddox smiles darkly, and sighs. |Growing a fleet would take years. And imagine if a sizable prisma deposit was discovered. If the Imperia didn’t outright crumble, they would have multiple rebellions on their hands, across at least a dozen star systems. Hale would probably be first in line. The Imperia’s power lies more in its monopoly on prisma than anything else.|

|So when the Collective ordered the missile strike on Vassra’s base—when they called it preemptive—|

|They’ve been challenged by organized pirates before. Not in a long time, but they don’t want to take their chances, clearly.|

I glance at my feet, eager to change the subject but unable to stop thinking of Mother, and what if she’s somewhere in that base? Only a slim chance, Maddox said. But he could have been hiding the truth. He could have lied. He might know she’s there for sure, but would he even tell me?

No, no. This is no time for that. I’ll watch the windows, try to blank out my growing alarm.

Meanwhile, Maddox is a picture of tranquility. Perhaps weathering an internal storm, or as unworried as Ash accused him of being, there’s no way for me to know. As if the conversation I’d overheard never happened. He suspects his own mentor of betraying us, yet watches through the trolley’s spotless windows with resignation, eyes glinting blue.

We slow to a stop, and the doors slide open, almost tentatively, as if our transportation is having second thoughts about dropping us off in such a remote location. A wide platform awaits us when we step through. The tiles, arranged in what must’ve been a spectacular mosaic, lie chipped and fragmented and overgrown with moss and creeping vines. Lichen-speckled reliefs cover the walls. Towering statues guard the outer bulkhead. The Navigator, with her signature third eye, nothing but a blank divot where a sapphire should be. Beside her, the Mariner, the second-in-command who braved the first warp journey. Some of the gold leaf is still visible in her hair.

I crane back my head, gaze wandering up the length of the diamond bulkhead, taller than Ash’s shuttle.

Maddox slips back his sleeve and presses his seal against a corroded sensory bar. Low rumbling fills the tunnel as the trolley whisks away, leaving us in the glimmering light of a thousand pinpoints in the rafters. Broken glass twinkles along the base of the walls and at the feet of the deities. The picked-over remains of offerings from a thousand years ago.

Maddox pulls back from the bulkhead as a burst of stale air vents from the bottom. “Rather humbling, isn’t it? I wonder if they could’ve guessed that one day, it would be merely the two of us standing here, not even paying reverence.”

I nudge some pottery shards with my toe. “I think they would’ve been more appalled to see their holy site turned into a military base.”

Once the bulkhead grinds open enough for us to duck through, we emerge into a great cathedral of a vestibule, so overgrown with foliage that almost all of the lights have been blocked out. Orchids spring from defaced reliefs. Glass and wood and Mariner-knows-what-else crunch underfoot. A pile of brown bones lies off to the side of the next bulkhead. Animal, or…? Perhaps better not to look closely.

Another press of Maddox’s seal, and machinery protests and grinds far below. Like we’re breaking into an ancient crypt.

|This next passage is where I need you to wait. Find a place on the ceiling. You can’t interrupt me until I finish with the codes, so if anyone comes, it’s your job to neutralize them.|

We duck through into darkness. A rotten, nostril-burning stench washes over me. Insects…I hope insects…scuttle at my ankles, and the buzzing of flies makes a perfect compliment to the hideous smell. Luckily, it only takes a few moments for my olfactory system to recognize and block out the molecules. My visual feed ever-so-helpfully identifies their source. |Chupher’s corpseflower approx. 45 blooms detected.|

“If the whole ship is like this, we’re taking a different one,” Maddox grumbles.

I follow his faintly glowing outline. “It’s not so bad once the scent’s blocked.”

“I won’t have you breathing poison for the length of the trip. This ship’s environment must be severely unbalanced to allow an infestation like this.”

My eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the dark, only enough to show monochromatic foliage and the flat, gargantuan surface of the primary bulkhead. Maddox rips back a few vines to reveal a control array sitting cockeyed on a pedestal. He sinks his hands into ports on either side, with a lot more indifference than I’d be able to muster. Imagine how many insects have found their way to the tactile jelly within, if there’s even still enough to make a neural connection.

“Now,” he says, hands working tentatively, the glow of his skin intensifying. “I’ll be unresponsive for only a few minutes. Off you go.”

I glance up once more. I don’t see any movement, but…am I really going to stop and check for centipedes? Creepy-crawlies dart up my arms. I squeeze my hands into fists. What would Maddox would say if I told him I was more afraid of bugs than security guards? It’s not even a very good joke.

Shadowy armor tendrils rise from my shoulders and attach in the depths above. My senses expand with them—I feel the touch of warm dew, followed by the papery flick of leaves, and the squish of layered moss. Then, the rough stone lining the passage.

Once my nanoarmor has shooed all the insects away, I sail up into darkness, leaving Maddox staring resolutely ahead, eyes bright with data streams.

I anchor myself with a few tendrils from my calves and back and hang like an upside-down spider.

This chamber would have been a sort of inner sanctum, back in the Age of Pilgrimage. Starship captains weren’t just pilots. They were practically disciples, chosen to lead congregations in the Navigator’s footsteps. While the captain initiated boarding sequences, like Maddox is doing, the room would have been packed with the most privileged followers, chanting the same low, breathy prayers heard in cathedrals all over Imperian worlds.

The only ones doing any chanting now are toads croaking off in the far corner.

A message snaps through my visual feeds. It’s from Ash.

|Docked. A lot of shuttles just entered the tracks above us. No definite ID on them until their next orbit, but you should probably hurry.|

|That was quick,| I tap against the carbon black of a nanoarmor tendril.

|Yeah. And four security guards just got on the trolley, headed in your direction.|

My stomach jolts. Four of them? Why couldn’t it be just two? |Carrying plasma rifles, I suppose.|

|Didn’t look like it. No masks, either, so just put them to sleep. And yeah, you should really hurry.|

Tense, silent seconds tick by, stretching into minutes, or possibly years. My breath is perfectly measured but it makes no difference to my flailing thoughts. We already broke the law by leaving Gallanthius. Still, I hadn’t exactly planned on adding assault on Imperian security to my records, too. At least, not all in the same day.

Maddox’s eyes are still glazed when the soft whirring sound of the trolley echoes through the passage, followed by four sets of cautious footsteps. Judging by their disjointed movement, they’re carrying rifles of some kind, but not with much sense of authority.

A woman’s voice rings out. “Navigator’s breath, what is that smell? You there! Turn around. Now.”

She uses a surprisingly diplomatic tone, considering that Maddox’s silhouette must look taller than a willow tree, stillness matched by the stone in my armor’s grasp.

The guards shuffle into view, hefting ordinary projectile rifles. Bars of light blink from their meandering spotlights. They truly must have no idea who they’re dealing with. I’m going to keep it that way. They’ve only seen Maddox’s back so far.

With the ease of a thought, my hair twists into a web of armor tendrils and whips out to a new anchor point. I slip silently into position just above the guards’ heads.

The woman speaks up again. “Sir, we would be happy to escort you to the proper concourse. We just need to scan your military seal and we can all be on our way. Turn around, please.”

My visual feeds light up with new information from my armor. |Mapping scent receptors of (4) individuals—Grade 6 tranquilizer available—(3) seconds for Grade 7 availability.|

“Shh. Look at him. He hasn’t moved.” A male voice this time, a bit shaky. “He’s locked into boarding sequences.”

“Boarding sequences?” the woman scoffs. “For what? One of these old heaps? Come on.”

“No, but look.” One of the spotlights settles on Maddox’s back. I focus on the four helmeted heads below. I extend my hand, nanoarmor tendrils trailing from each fingertip, obsidian points sharpening to microscopic needles.

At last, all four of them exhale at the same time.

Armor tendrils dart beneath their nostrils, release a puff of odorless tranquilizer, and whisk back into my hand in the space of a blink. Even grade seven takes a few seconds to knock someone out. Hopefully, with their adrenals rushing as they are, it’ll work faster this time.

“You smell something dead, madam?” It’s the male voice again, hitching on some of the consonants, slurring almost imperceptibly on the m’s.

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Sergeant Nathine.”  She takes a few determined steps forward, only to stumble on a broken tile and pitch forward with gurgling growl.

“What’s the matter with all of you?” she mutters, and passes out on a rough-looking root mass.

The other three crumple down without another coherent word. Pulses beat steadily in my visual feed, and their brain waves fluctuate rapidly toward REM sleep. Those will be some interesting dreams.

I lower myself to the ground and withdraw my armor, returning skin and uniform to their usual appearance, and pause to straighten the hem of my jacket. I glance over the security guards, reduced to a sullen, humiliated heap in this dank cell of a boarding passage. It’s not like I killed them, but a knot grows in my chest anyway.

It’s not like I even harmed them. Even so, I, a Troika, laid hands on Imperian guards, sort of. Will that get me a mere wrist-slap when all of this is over? Or will Maddox insist on taking the blame, for this and everything else?

“Quin.”

I whirl around. Maddox pulls his hands loose from the control array, and gives them a firm shake. He nods toward the bulkhead, which hasn’t so much as budged. “We have to move quickly now. I’ve received a message from Aneke.”

Clicks and whirs of machinery grumble far below us. My ankles vibrate with the first groans from the overgrown bulkhead. I wait for him to continue, but he merely tucks away his hands and stares ahead with a thoughtful tilt of his head.

“Let me guess.” I hug my arms to my chest. The bulkhead ticks unenthusiastically upwards. “Aneke does not approve.”

“Worse.” He grits his teeth a moment before continuing. “She’s been sent to convince us to cease and desist. And she’s in orbit now.”

He crouches beside the bulkhead, watching the gap widen. Crystalline black nanoarmor glints at his brow and temples, and licks out from his fingertips when he touches the ground.

“Our only chance is to outrun her,” he says, with typical finality.

“But you were her apprentice. Ash, too. Would she really stand against you? She can be a bit cross at times, but I don’t think—”

“Forgive me, Quin,” Maddox interrupts, tone dropping low, “but you don’t know the first thing about Aneke. She’s going to stop us, if she can. She has no other choice.”

He slides his arm under the bulkhead, pokes and prods with a narrow-eyed glare, and sinks into a shadowy black pool before vanishing altogether through the narrow opening.

I kick out at an upturned tile. It breaks off with a crack. If he’d only tell me. The truth about himself, his mentor, anything, ever.

“Are you still coming?” Maddox calls.

“Well, yes—”

“Then get in here, because we have to run. Hurry!”

I drop flat and jam my way through the opening, teeth clenched all the while.

((Thank you so much for reading!!))

#my novel #looong snippet more like excerpt #writing science fiction #writeblr #my ocs #trying to share a bit more instead of sidelining lol

[booknerd1205]

This is just a little thing i came up with one night, and had to share somehow. It gets dark, so I guess this is a trigger warning. And please, if you’re having dark thoughts or feelings, tell someone! You’re not alone, and there people who can help. There are also spoilers about character deaths.

I dream that I’m drowning. An endless expanse of ocean surrounds me on all sides. I am being crushed by the weight of the clear blue water. Below me, dark shadows swim. Black shapeless tendrils swirl and dance through the water, waiting for me to sink and join them. Above me, I can see the faintest pinprick of light. I start moving, pushing and pulling the water, propelling myself to the surface. Just before my head breaks through the water, a black tentacle wraps around my waist and drags me down. I struggle, but more reach out and entangle my wrists, my ankles. I am almost out of breath. Spots dance on the edges of my vision, and my heart is beating so fast I feel as though it might jump out of my chest. I can’t hold on much longer. With a last thought of how close to freedom I was, I open my mouth and let the ocean fill my lungs.

—————————————————————

I bolt awake, greedily gulping in huge breaths of air. Another dream, I think forlornly. They’ve been occuring more and more often lately, and I know exactly what they mean. The weight of the ocean is all of the expectations and presumptions people have of me. Everything they want me to be, everything I have become to please them. The black shapes at the bottom of the ocean reminds me of blood. They eerily mimic the lines that the blood makes as it drips down my arms from the fresh cuts, and as it splatters into the sink, joined by water before it is swallowed by the drain. Every time I get close to the surface is when something good happens in my life. Whether i make a small achievement, or receive a smile on the street, it lifts me up just a little bit higher. But I’m always dragged down again by the bad. There’s always another expectation, or another family gathering where I’m told that whatever I’m doing isn’t good enough, and it just adds to the weight on my shoulders, dragging me deeper into the dark. I’m almost at the end of my line. I’ve spent my whole life being who others want me to be, shaping myself to fit the mold they want to put me in, and I don’t know if I can fit in it anymore.

I slip out of my sweat soaked sheets and make my way to the sofa in my small apartment living room. My family is practically made of money, so after sending me to the best school in the country, they pulled some strings and got me an apartment off campus, even though I’m only a freshman. Which is just another problem to add to the bunch. Even if I did try to break out of the box I’ve been squished into, enough money could be paid to whoever gets involved for them to forget about it and make it seem like it never happened, trapping me in an even tighter restraint of my life. For 18 years I’ve been whoever others want me to be, so focused on making them happy that I don’t know who I am or what I like. I’ve never been given the chance to explore before, so I wouldn’t know where to start if I took the chance. The only time I’ve ever felt at peace is when I’m reading. It allows me to forget my problems, and dream of different worlds, where even through bouts of heartbreak and angst, everyone gets at least a small modicum of happiness and peace.

Now, I gaze out my window and up at the stars. There are millions of them, each shining brightly, each with their own story of how they got to be a star. As i watch them shimmer and shine, I start to make out faces among them. Faces I’ve never seen outside my own imagination, or a television screen. Faces I watched laugh and cry and eventually still, faces which determined my feelings for the next few days. Newt, from The Maze Runner. Neil Perry, from Dead Poets Society. Will Herondale from The Infernal Devices. When I was at my lowest, these are who I turned to, who i trusted with my secrets.

And they all had one thing in common. They were all set free. They worked hard, and made differences in their worlds, but at the end of the battle, they got to let go and leave it all behind. I long to follow them, but I’m a coward. Too weak to find my own life, but too scared to give it all up.

Now, watching them, I seem to be able to hear their voices as well. Follow us they say. Come join us. You’ve done your best, you can let go now.

Suddenly, it’s like I’m watching myself from afar. I see my body stand up and walk down the short hallway to the bathroom. I watch as my hand reaches out and opens the medicine cabinet, rooting through it until I find the pain medication I got last year when I broke my arm. I was instructed to take half a pill when needed, never more than twice a day, but now I observe myself pouring a whole handful out. I fill up a cup of water, and place a pill on my tounge. Swallow. One. Another. Swallow. Two. Another. Swallow. Three. Another. Swallow. Four. Another. Swallow. Five.

I hear the voices again. Join us. Come to us. You’re done fighting. You can be free.

Another. Swallow. Six. Another. Swallow. Seven.

I’m starting to feel dizzy, so I lean back against the door frame and slide down until I’m sitting on the cold, hard tile floor. I close my eyes, and more faces appear. Johnny and Dally from The Outsiders. Chris Chambers from Stand By Me.

Another. Swallow. Eight.

More voices join the chorus, and hands reach down to embrace me. I see Allison Argent from Teen Wolf and Tris Prior from Divergent. They’re all smiling, welcoming me into their little family.

Another. Swallow. Nine.

You’re so close. Just one more.

I can barely feel my arms anymore, but I somehow force myself to move and place the last pill on my tounge.

Swallow. Ten.

I smile, and reach out to embrace my oldest and only friends, finally free.

#the infernal devices #dead poets society #maze runner #stand by me #the outsiders #teen wolf #divergent #actors

[jasleh]

FFxiv 30 day writing challenge

Prompt 17: Fate

Jarexx was in… a void. It wasn’t black. It wasn’t really white. It was just… nothing. “Nothing” was also what he appeared to be standing on, though with absolutely nothing even vaguely resembling solid ground, it didn’t seem to be triggering his usual fear of heights either. He turned around, and realized he wasn’t alone. There was a … creature staring at him, with an expression somewhere between curiosity and amusement. It… he? was green (a goblin without a mask? Couldn’t be, not enough joints in the legs.) with … uncomfortably familiar hair, a long thin nose, and absolutely massive ears. He was leaning up against nothing like it was a wall, arms crossed. Seeing Jare notice him, he pushed off the non-existent wall and walked closer, beginning to circle him. Jarexx reached for his gun, found it wasn’t there. The creature smirked at the movement. Then he spoke in a taunting tone.

“Fuckin’ short.”

Jarexx stiffened indignantly. It wasn’t like this creature was that much taller than him. Seven ilms, at the most. “Maybe you’re too fucking tall!” The thing gave a pained expression, ears going back.

“What the fuck was that accent. I don’t even know what you’re tryin’ ta mimic an’ I could still tell it was terrible.”

Jarexx glared at him, but dropped the fake accent. “I’m doing the best I can. And it’s not that bad. I doubt any non-Ul’dahn can tell the difference.” The thing snorted derisively.

“Accents are easy.” And just like that, he was speaking in the tones of the highest tier of Ul’dahn society. “I can do the difference between Kezan, Gadgetzan, and Booty Bay. In at least ten different languages. Do you know how many people can even hear the difference?” He grinned, displaying a mouth full of shark teeth. “Not fuckin’ many.” He was back to his previous accent now. Jarexx had never heard of any of those places. He was starting to get very frustrated.

“What are you?” he demanded. It wasn’t like the other was bothering to be polite, so why should he?  The thing rolled his eyes. Yellow eyes.

“I’m a goblin,” he said. “Obviously.”

“You don’t look like a goblin.” Well, not that Jarexx really knew what goblins looked like, but the body shape was all wrong.

“Says the guy who looks like some sorta mutated gnome.”

“What the fuck is a gnome?”

“Fuckin’ ugly. ‘Least you have pointed ears.” The… goblin… paused in his pacing and pointed at Jare’s left ear, the pained expression returning. “Why have you kept the fuckin’ earrings? I got rid’a those before I even left! Granted, it was because they got ripped out, but father through a fuckin’ fit when I refused to get the ear re-pierced. You can imagine, I’m sure.” He smirked, flicking his own left ear. Jarexx noticed the notches for the first time. Two notches, two earrings… Jarexx raised a hand somewhat defensively to his earrings. “But why just swap ‘em out for silver? I fuckin’ hated the damn things.”

Jarexx stiffened in panic. “I… I don’t…”

“Oh don’t play dumb. I know I ain’t that stupid. You must have at least partly figured it out by now. Though I suppose I do have a slight advantage in that area.”

Jarexx was figuring it out, but he was trying to deny it. There was no way that this… ugly thing could be him.  The goblin was watching him, looking exceedingly smug. He gave an elaborate bow that Jare couldn’t help but think was sarcastic and introduced himself.

“Jarexx Muzzleflash, born Jarexx Blackchain. But if you didn’t already know at least half of that, you’re fuckin’ lying.” He flashed another toothy grin. “Obviously, I’m the better looking version.”

Jarexx glared, balling his hands into fists. He was not going to justify such an obviously false statement with a response, letting the curl of his lip speak for him. It made no dent on the other’s grin.

“This is some strange dream, isn’t it?” Obvious, now that he thought about it.

“Probably. Or a side-effect of one of Tern’s experiments. Maybe both. I’m not gonna worry about it unless it looks like we’re stuck here though.” The goblin thought about this for a moment, then added, “Actually, being stuck here might be an improvement, with how the world’s gone to shit recently.” He looked up at the blank nothingness above them. “Definitely an improvement.” The statement sounded distinctly bitter.

Jarexx frowned. “Who’s Tern?”

“No one you’d know.” The goblin tilted his head, considering. “Well, probably. You know any dragons?”

“... no?”

“Then you don’t know him.”

The goblin pointed at one of Jare’s arms, changing the subject again. “You hiding anything under those gloves?”  Jarexx stiffened indignantly, fighting the urge to cover up the part of the scar that extended past his right glove, but the goblin held his hands up in a placating gesture. “No, no. Here. Look.” The goblin pulled off his own gloves, tucking them under one arm, and displayed his forearms to the lalafell. A thick slashing scar crossed his left arm, and the right… the right had a star-like scar that made a deep dent in the arm, with lightning-like lines branching from it, as though the arm had been hit so hard the skin had split from the impact. It was ugly. Very ugly. Jarexx pulled his own right arm up to his chest and clutched at it without fully realizing he had done so. “There, you see? Just curious what you’ve got.”

“How did that happen?” Jarexx gasped.

“Eh, the details are kinda fuzzy. But I remember getting thrown at a wall. It wasn’t a fun time. But how about you?”

Reluctantly, Jarexx pulled off his own glove. “Nothing on the left arm,” he said, displaying the electric burn. The goblin studied it with interest.

“Kinda similar, isn’t it? Must be fate, heh. Got anything else?”

“Just this.” Jarexx pulled the collar of his shirt aside a little, exposing the scar the arrow had left on his shoulder. The goblin rubbed at the spot on his own shoulder.

“I had a thing there for a while. Not really visible anymore. It was never that big, but it used ta glow in the dark, with glowing tendrils spreadin’ out from it, kinda like the scar on your arm. Magic contamination. It faded after a while though.” He grinned, then pointed at the scar on his face. “Better watch out, or you’ll end up with this one too.” Jarexx shuddered and the goblin laughed. “It’s not that bad, just took some gettin’ used to. The worst one’s here.” He traced a line with his finger from his left shoulder to his right hip. “Ain’t stripping enough ta show that one off. You don’t look like you could survive somethin’ like that though. I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t been close to help. Raptor nearly gutted me.”

“Lalafell are tougher than we look,” Jarexx said, somewhat defensively. Not that he wanted to find out. Everything about this situation had him off balance, and he resented the other’s easy manner. The goblin laughed at him and he wished he had his gun.

“Lalafell? Stupid fuckin’ name for a race.”

Jarexx sputtered indignantly, only to see the other fade out of existence, still laughing. He was alone in the void now. He looked around and then…

… opened his eyes. The room was dark. Still the middle of the night. He could hear Sunstone snoring next to the bed.

What a bizarre dream, he thought. I can’t imagine where it came from. He rolled towards the wall and tried to go back to sleep. By morning, all memory of the dream had vanished.

#FFxivWrite2017 #Jarexx #FF!Jarexx #BOTH VERSIONS EVEN #I have no excuse for this I just really wanted to #... a universe away goblin Jarexx wakes up and goes 'Tern what the fuck were you doing while I slept?' #'... the aim was off but it certainly did something so maybe keep doing it'

[the-light-in-her-eyes-story]

Part 15: Ghosts in the Woods

After a few hours of silently slinking from shadow to shadow in the afternoon shade cast by the dilapidated buildings they reached a wooded area where Adriane day heavily at the base of a large tree. Her face had remained unreadable but set the entire journey, and Dane had to restrain themself from staring at her. Especially now in the shade of the tree canopy, the glowing golden light emanating from each of the bullet holes in Adriane’s sweatshirt shone brightly. Nervously, Dane sat next to Adriane, who looked tired as she leaned against the tree trunk, eyes closed, breathing for a few minutes.

“Are you okay?” 

Adriane’s eyes remained shut as she nodded slowly. 

“But... you’re hurt...” 

At this Adriane slowly opened her eyes and looked at Dane. Then, with curiosity, she looked down and unzipped her sweatshirt.  As she threw it aside, Dane was distracted and mesmerized by the three interlacing golden circles on the back of Adriane’s hand. It was a pattern Dane knew well, but had only ever seen on babies. 

Seeing Dane staring at her hand, Adriane scowled and said, “look.” At this Dane looked up to see Adriane gesturing toward the glowing holes in her chest. As she exhaled slowly the golden light flew away like disturbed dust, revealing plain, unblemished pale skin. 

“Oh!” said Dane with a start, “I thought you’d been shot!”

“I was.” 

Dane stares, confused. 

“Quite a few times too,” Adriane said, voice clearly tinged with annoyance through the exhaustion. “Ruined my favorite sweatshirt, the damned idiots.”

“But... how?” Dane was having trouble finding the words to match their incoherent state of confusion swirling about their mind. 

Not looking up from inspecting the holes in her clothes, Adriane taunted, “Guns in the hands of humans are very dangerous, kid.” She looked up briefly at the last word to see Dane’s face instantly contort to indignation. She let out a solitary chuckle, then looked back at her clothes. 

“But in Downtown you didn’t get shot. And you seem okay now...” 

“In Downtown I wasn’t trying to restrain myself. Honestly, who could have guessed it would be that hard to not kill a couple of humans,” Adriane said with a shrug. “And once my attention was no longer invested in trying to merely disarm them it was easy to heal. Well, it’s easier to heal here,” she gestured to the canopy of trees and bed of grass beneath them. “I held myself together until we got here pretty well though.” 

The cynical way she said “merely disarm” gave Dane the impression that she regretted limiting herself and saw the attempt as being pointless. Dane realized that, to some extent, it had been for those fifteen-odd people who had felt Adriane’s anger. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Dane watched Adriane tend to her clothes. As she passed her hand over each hole, threads from the surrounding cloth, enchanted by golden tendrils, wove themselves around to patch up the spots where the bullets had rent them in twain. The result was that the whole article was a bit more threadbare, but at least in tact once again, leaving no evidence of the day’s activities. 

“I want you to teach me to fight,” Dane said suddenly, breaking the silence. They were trying to sound confident even though the thought of fighting made them immediately queasy. 

Adriane raised an eyebrow at Dane. 

“I mean, I get that today you needed me out of the way,” they could feel blood rush to their cheeks as they hurried through their request. “But obviously you know how to fight hand-to-hand. And then I wouldn’t be so useless if we got in trouble again.” Dane was looking directly at the ground, so they didn’t see Adriane look at them with open curiosity. 

She pushed her hood down and stared at Dane, thinking. “I suppose it would alleviate some of the liability inherent in traveling with you,” she said absentmindedly. 

Dane’s head whipped up to look at Adriane, heart pounding. They were startled to see that her sunglasses had been damaged in the fight, and bits of glass were missing, allowing Dane to see slivers of Adriane’s golden eyes. Sighing, Adriane removed her sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. 

“The problem is,” Adriane said, finally opening her eyes as she awkwardly reached her hand to scratch the back of her head. “I don’t know how to fight, so I’m not sure how to teach you.”

Dane was startled, not just by her words, but also by how comparatively normal the scene felt. It first time Adriane and Dane had talked face-to-face without the dark hood or sunglasses between them. Besides the stark-whiteness of her hair and the haunting glow in her eyes, Adriane looked like a normal person, sitting in her t-shirt casually leaned against the tree trunk. 

Snapping back into the moment, Dane stammered, “but you did fight. And not with magic, just like... normal fighting.”

Adriane laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, but nothing I do is ‘normal,’ nor without magic. It’s as inherent to who I am and what I do as anything. Every time I’ve fought, and no this wasn’t the first time, I’m not using some fighting technique. I simply take a breath to become immersed in the moment, which slows my perception of time, and then, as the attacks come, I read the energy intended to do me harm and convert it into that which can defend me.”

Dane looked utterly confused, so Adriane stood up, dusting the dirt off her pants and said, “I’ll show you.” 

Dane got up, too. 

“Hit me.” Adriane said, simply. 

“What?” Dane cried in shock. 

“Try to hit me, so I can show you how I deflect.” Adriane said. 

Dane blinked. They had asked to be taught to fight, but it hadn’t occurred to them that that meant fighting Adriane. And so quickly! They hadn’t had enough time to prepare themself for it! They took a moment to gather up their resolve. 

Hesitantly, they stepped forward and clumsily thrust out a fist toward Adriane. Apparently, Dane had hesitated for too long. Long enough, in fact, for Adriane to think they weren’t going to do anything, because by the time Dane attacked, Adriane had turned her attention to healing some of the more minor scrapes she had on her arms. Taken a bit by surprise, she didn’t have time to actually react in the way she wanted, and instead an immense pulse of golden energy rocketed out from Adriane’s chest, knocking Dane off their feet and sending them flying a few feet back. They landed on their butt with a soft thud, and Adriane rushed over. 

For a moment it looked like she was about to apologize, panic clear on her face, then her face relaxed, she seemed to reconsider and instead said, “my bad,” with a shrug. “I’m a little out of sorts still after the whole getting-shot-thing.” 

Dane got up, brushing off their butt, unsure if their ego or butt was more bruised. They realized they were probably incredibly lucky to have gotten off uninjured.

“Let’s try something else...” Adriane said, thinking. Then she closed her eyes and held out her palm. Dane saw the golden light seem to undulate beneath the skin of Adriane’s arms, flowing down to concentrate on her hand. Then it shot out and began to take shape in front of her. 

To Dane’s complete amazement, the light seemed to solidify into the form of people. And not just random people, but the soldiers who had attacked earlier, semi-transparent as thought they were ghosts. 

Dane’s mouth felt dry. Those in front of them were the people who had lived, hadn’t they? Dane looked at Adriane, mouth open, grasping for words to capture the slight horror creeping into their bones. 

With a smirk, Adriane interrupted Dane’s silent sputtering by clarifying, “they’re just images. Like a movie you can sorta physically interact with. Everything in life is basically just different forms of energy, so it’s not too hard to mimic things. If I wanted to I could make it quite convincing, but I don’t feel like wasting the energy when this’ll do just fine.”

Adriane gestured that Dane get closer to the phantoms, and with an added surge of light they began to move. The five soldiers attacked Dane, just as the real person had attacked Adriane, but instead of dodging like Adriane had, Dane caught the full force of the stunning baton that, though it was technically incorporeal, carried with it a strange force that knocked Dane back onto their butt. It felt just like getting hit normally would, but without the pressure of a physical object hitting your body and the echo of a static shock rippling through Dane’s body. The moment they’d made contact, all of the ghosts froze.

“How did it hit me?” Dane asked, voice tinged with accusation. “You said it was just made of energy!”

Adriane extended a hand to help Dane up. “It is. What you feel when something hits you is mostly just the energy transference that occurs when a moving object collides with an unmoving object. As my images are made of energy, they’re able to mimic the same experience by replicating the energy transfer.”

Dane looked surprised, eyebrows raised. 

“What?” Adriane asked. “It’s basic physics.”

“I thought you didn’t go to school,” Dane said hesitantly. “When did you take physics?”

Adriane actually looked offended for the briefest moment before she shrugged it off, turning and walking a few steps away from Dane.

She waved a hand toward the solders and they disappeared, replaced with just one unarmed man. 

“This is probably a better place to start,” Adriane said. “No weapons, just one-on-one. I’ll even slow it down for you.” 

With a flick of her eyes she indicated that Dane should approach this new figure. As they did so, the figure slowly threw out a punch. Since it was so slow, Dane was able to move out of the way quite easily and study the man’s form. Mirroring his movement, they cautiously brought a curled fist from their hip towards him, coming close to making contact in the middle of his chest. 

They looked up to Adriane with a smile, arm still outstretched. She nodded and approached Dane. Carefully, she nudged Dane’s feet into a more stable position, which Dane could immediately feel was better balanced. She then positioned Dane’s other fist, which had so far been hanging by their side, into position next to their hip, ready to strike. She then stood next to Dane, mimicking their stance, and showed Dane how to alternate fists, pulling one hand back towards her hip as the other thrust out in front of her.

She then stepped back with a satisfied look on her face and nodded again. 

Dane did as Adriane had showed them, though bit more clumsily, this time actually striking the figure near his shoulder. As they did so they felt the impact on their fist, which startled them a bit. They repeated this a few more times before Adriane came forward, moving Dane out of the way, and showed how she would punch the figure herself, pointing out how she twisted her fist right before making contact, then coiled it back so her palm was facing up as she brought it back to her hip. She then stepped aside and let Dane continue. 

They kept at it for quite a while, Dane fueled with a continued rush of excitement, until their concentration was broken by the sound of a loud rumble coming from their stomach. Embarrassed, they stood up, looking at Adriane wide-eyed.

Adriane laughed and let the figure fade away, saying that was probably enough for today anyway. The two went to their backpacks and dug out the granola bars they had stored, sitting in the shade of the trees contentedly.