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#RIP to everyone who stocked up hoping to sell them later
yournightowl · 1 year
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Your Night Owl #002
The oldnet is kind of a dump- (But in a good way) (ò▂ó)!
Getting my comp ripped enough to squeeze back here was a chore, but now that i’m here it’s just
Empty. A lotta empty.
i can navigate around fine, but almost all external image hosting is down. Makes the whole place feel really glum, and more than a little dark.
Which is cool!
A lot of the videos are still up, even if they’re not in great shape. Audio’s missing most of the time, but the caption files are never that far out of the way. I’ve been thinking about patching together some of what i’ve found into my own little “silent film” festival, but i don’t think that the video format will transfer well.
Almost all the footage is people talking directly into the camera very energetically. They all make this one pose, too.
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Archaeologists say that art reflects the beauty standards of its time, in which case, i think everyone the oldnet was really attracted to:
People who have just found a thing 
People who dress garishly
People who are loud
i was surprised (in a depressing kind of way) to see how little net etiquette has changed. Even 60 years ago, people were already using their real names for more things than not. i guess it’s pretty different when it’s all voluntary instead of mandated, but still. 
The tech is disappointingly “user-friendly” too. Paywalls. Ride-a-long-ware. Terms and conditions and conditions and conditions. How far back do i have to go to find software where you could just say “No” instead of “Remind me later”?
i wasn’t expecting the oldnet to be full of “Cyberpunks” using the internet to sow chaos and civil disobedience, but 
i guess i was hoping to find people using the net for more than just buying clothes.
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But it’s not all bad! The oldnet’s censors are skid compared to what we’ve got now. So, using a little bit of creative search-engine-reverse-optimization, i managed to dig up something funny and relevant for you all!
Everyone knows that Noble Electronics was founded by the “Technocrat-of-Technocrats” Aliza D. Sanders- Except it wasn’t!! 
Turns out, Sanders’ real achievement was winning a lawsuit back in ‘53 so that she could start calling herself Noble’s founder- Even though she was actually just  the angel who bought out the company 3 years in (Back then, the term angel investor wasn’t ironic- Who knew?)
In light of this revelation and because no one cares what i change around here, i’ve made some corrections to her bio results.
Sanders might be a fraud, but it is true that the Noble Electronics Technology, Inc. (Electronics and Technology? <(・O・)> Incredible!) founded in the 50′s doesn’t have anything in common with the Noble looming over us today, other than the ticker symbol. Every corp that survived the 60′s emerged a lot more brutal, but Noble’s undergone an additional metamorphosis these past few years cause of their dominance in the android market- and it’s made them really, really, really goddamn rich.
I’d put it into numbers for you here, but they’ve gotten so big that defining them by their stock price feels
Wait i have a good one for this
It feels like 
Orz
“Too big to fail” originally meant that a corp was too vital to the economy to be allowed to implode, but these days it feels depressingly literal. 
i feel like if Noble fell over, it’d just restabilize under its own gravity.
And then it’d hang over our heads like a low orbiting moon.
A low orbiting moon trying to sell you something.
On that lovely note-
Signing off for now,
your night owl
(^◕_v_◕^)
EDIT: 
i was lying when i said that stuff about video formatting stopping me from showing others what i’ve found here.
i just don’t think anyone would care besides me.
EDIT2: 
To the weirdo responding with keysmash:
Thank you, (;¬_¬) but i didn’t ask!!
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lavenderbexlatte · 3 years
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a handful (or two)
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stray kids 3.9k words female reader insert Thick/Chubby!Reader x Lee Felix  EXPLICIT/NSFW
🖤 warnings: DISCUSSIONS OF WEIGHT/BODY IMAGE/INSECURITY, unprotected sex 🖤
connect with me! / masterlist
Sitting at your kitchen table in the early evening, you feel more like a soldier walking into battle than anything else.
You’ve got a list of your body measurements scrawled on a piece of paper beside you, as you scroll through an online shop on your phone. Ruffled blouses, wrap dresses, raw-hemmed jeans, tiered skirts, fitted cardigans. The clothes are cute, and your Likes list has no shortage of garments, but you’ve reached the worst part of clothes shopping:
Finding things that are actually in your size.
Korean online malls are not known for their variety of sizes, even though obviously, the people in any country who need to buy clothes have all different kinds of bodies. The cute clothes, the mainstream ones, the clothes that YouTubers and Instagram models promote, are mostly one-size. And that one size…is small.
Too small for you.
It’s a regular debate that you have with yourself. You shouldn’t even give your patronage to shops like these ones, where you have to filter through every single item and look at the detailed measurements to find the rare pair of pants that you could squeeze into. You shouldn’t play into a system that makes you hate yourself.
But you need new jeans. And in your heart, you want cute jeans from the online mall, like everyone else.
You pull up a pair of jeans in exactly the style that you want and scroll down to the measurements. You have to steel yourself as you look at the numbers.
Waist…hips…thigh…rise…length…
They’re too small.
You pull up another pair, and another, and another. They’re all too small.
“No,” says a small, dark voice in the back of your mind, “You’re just too big.”
You’re so caught up in this game of finding cute things to wear and discovering exactly how much the seller doesn’t want them to fit on people like you, that you don’t even hear your boyfriend until he’s right next to you.
“What are you doing?” comes a deep voice, right in your ear.
You jump in your seat, fumbling your phone for a second and catching it before it falls. Catching your breath, you look up at Felix, stood beside your chair gazing down at you.
“Jesus, when did you get here?” you ask, putting your phone down before anything else happens.
“Just got in,” he answers, nodding toward the door. “I called hello. You didn’t answer.”
Felix has a key to your place, free to come and go as he pleases, so it’s not exactly unusual for him to turn up like this. He’s dressed in a big t-shirt and joggers, practice clothes, obviously fresh from the studio with the rest of the guys.
“I was distracted,” you murmur.
“I guess so,” he grins at you.
You offer a halfhearted smile in return, feeling stupid for your bad mood, caused by something so out of your control. Shopping shouldn’t ruin your day. Felix pulls out your other dining chair to sit across from you at the small dining table, and you can’t help but stare at his body as he settles down. 
He’s so…skinny.
You’re envious. You shouldn’t be, because your body is plenty good enough as it is. But you are. With a body like that, you could wear anything.
“What are you doing?” he asks you.
You hesitate, but Felix pays no mind to your internal struggle, reaching across the table to pick up the scrap of paper covered in your measurements. You want to snatch the paper out of his hands, which is ridiculous. He knows what your body looks like. Seeing the numbers that describe it isn’t going to scare him off.
But still, you feel that sick self-consciousness rising up as he glances over the paper, and sets it back down.
“I’m trying to buy jeans,” you say weakly.
“Trying?” Felix prods.
“Trying and failing.”
You pick up your phone, unlock it, and shove it at him, the screen still open to the last pair of too-small jeans. He peers at the listing, at the chart full of centimeters, and then down at your measurements scrawled out in your handwriting.
“They call that a large?” Felix says, amazed, and you cringe. “It’s like a half-centimeter difference.”
You know he’s just surprised since shopping for women’s clothes isn’t something he does often, and you’re sure he doesn’t know how common this problem is for you. But his words still sting a little.
“Yeah,” you say, “I think I’m done for tonight.”
You try not to let your deep-seated disappointment in the situation, and in yourself, show too much. Felix watches as you stand up and stretch. You can tell he’s thinking hard, can see that he wants to say something. But you really don’t need his commentary on this. You spend enough time thinking about your body, wanting to change your body, hating that you want to change your body…
“Do you want dinner? I went to the store earlier,” you say, determined to change the subject.
“Sure,” Felix agrees easily.
You cross your little kitchen and fling open the cupboard to dig out groceries for your meal. At least this is a task to take your mind off everything.
You don’t even notice as Felix takes the slip of paper from the table and folds it into his pocket.
--------------- Some days later, you all but trip into your bedroom after work, exhausted but hopeful.
Felix’s shoes and jacket were both waiting by the front door when you came in, which means he’s here waiting for you. He was nowhere to be seen in the rest of your small apartment, so that leaves this.
Of course, you’re not disappointed; Felix is lounging on your bed, playing on his phone and looking like the epitome of comfort in lounge pants and messy blonde hair. He smiles like the sunrise when he sees you.
“Hi, angel,” he says, as you drop your bag on the floor.
Instead of replying, you let yourself fall onto the bed beside him, flat on your back, and stretch out your poor sore limbs like a starfish.
“Long day?” he asks.
“The longest,” you agree.
“You’re in luck, though,” he says, “I have a surprise for you.”
You turn your head to look at him. “Really?”
He nods.
“Then gimme!” you quip.
Felix laughs brightly, and unfolds himself to retrieve a small gift bag from the side of the bed, tucked out of view. He hands it to you, and it’s surprisingly heavy and dense for its size. Today isn’t a special day by any means. Just a weekday, a work day, and you wrack your brain to figure out exactly why your boyfriend decided tonight was the night for presents.
“Can I open it?” you ask.
“You’d better,” says Felix, settling back down to watch you.
So you unceremoniously rip out the tissue paper packing, and when you’re met with a small pile of folded fabric, you upend the whole bag onto your bed.
There are four things inside.
A soft, oversized t-shirt, loose and comfortable and your favorite color, to boot.
A pair of thigh-high stockings.
A single thigh garter, in bright white.
And a pair of panties, also white. You unfold the underwear, to reveal a heart-shaped cutout on the back, and at the bottom…
“Crotchless?!” you ask, flustered.
Felix shrugs, his expression mischievous, “I thought they suited you.”
“What’s all this about?” you ask.
“I wanted to prove a point,” he says.
“What point can you prove with lingerie?”
“I’m proving pretty clearly that plenty of stores sell things to your measurements,” he says cheekily, “Just not that one store you were on the other day.”
Oh, my God.
You’re equal parts mortified and absolutely melting with the sweetness at the heart of this gesture. You didn’t realize that he was paying this much attention to you that day. You didn’t realize he knew how frustrated you were, how discouraged.
“They’re pretty,” you admit, turning the panties over in your hands.
“Then try them on for me.”
Felix’s tone is suggestive and low, lower than usual, and you know for certain that he didn’t just buy these things to cheer you up. He’s got an ulterior motive here.
“What’s in it for me?” you tease.
“Dress up for me and find out,” Felix replies.
Never one to turn down the prospect of some fun, you gather up the clothes and dart across the hall into your tiny bathroom. If Felix wants you to dress up for him, you need to do that alone and make a spectacle of it.
You dump the armful of clothing onto the counter. There’s no bra or anything, so you assume that Felix means for you to wear only the t-shirt. And that’s exactly what you do, stripping out of your work clothes and pulling the shirt over your head. You put on the panties, noting exactly how well they fit. The elastic doesn’t dig, and they don’t ride up, just smooth fabric and lace against your skin, hugging the curve of your ass. You try to forget about the opening at the bottom, baring you to the world; you already know Felix fully intends to use it, but you can’t believe he’s done this. It’s bold, even for him.
The thigh-highs come next, and while these also fit more nicely than any pair of tights you’ve ever owned, you have thick thighs, and the soft skin dimples around the top elastic band. You slide the thigh garter onto one leg, settling it at the top of the stocking. It only makes that indent more pronounced, soft flesh giving way under the thick white band. But you try your hardest not to feel self-conscious about it.
Felix picked these things for you. That means he wants to see you like this.
You pluck up all your courage, and walk back into your bedroom. Felix is waiting eagerly, and when you come into view, lingering shyly at the doorway, he smirks. 
Honest-to-God smirks.
“Oh, angel,” he says, his deep voice nearly breaking over the syllables, “Oh, yes.”
You can see plainly on his face how much this little outfit is affecting him, and it sends a little thrill down your spine. Because truly, these clothes aren’t too out of the ordinary. The thigh-highs are new, and the panties aren’t something you would have picked for yourself, but it’s hard not to feel like you’re just wearing…a t-shirt and underwear.
It’s the intimacy, you decide. The fact that Felix carefully chose items in your most precise, comfortable sizes, and built you a sexy little dress-up kit that makes you feel as good as you look…God. Overwhelmingly intimate, you realize, and hot as hell.
“Let me see you, come here and give me a little spin,” Felix teases, twirling his finger in the air to mimic the model turn he’s demanding.
Smiling, squashing down a touch of embarrassment, you comply, coming to stand before Felix and turning around slowly on the spot. You can feel his eyes on you, and as you turn your back on him completely, you hear your bed creak.
Hands land on your waist as Felix pulls you flush against his front, and you can feel how hard he is already, filling out the front of his sweatpants. He’s always eager, always relishes the time you get to spend lost in each other, but he seems especially brazen tonight, as he grinds his clothed cock against your ass and slides his hands under the t-shirt to cup your bare breasts.
“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmurs.
You turn around in his arms, letting his hands drop back to your waist. He’s grinning at you with no small amount of lust in his eyes. You’re sure that you look similarly affected; you can already feel wetness gathering between your legs. His undivided attention, especially when you’re dressed up like this just for him, has you going out of your mind with want.
“Then show me,” you say.
He huffs out a laugh before diving in to kiss you, his pouty bow-shaped lips moving against yours roughly. Felix kisses like he’s starving and you’re one of the desserts that he loves to bake, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops ravishing you. His hands wander down to your ass, pinching hard enough that you squeak.
“Easy on the goods!” you chastise, as the spot aches deliciously.
Felix just pinches you again, harder, and guides you back toward your bed. You lay back on the mattress with Felix right behind you, settling between your spread legs. He sits back on his heels, just looking down at you beneath him in your skimpy panties and stockings. He runs his hands down your thighs indulgently, sliding a finger under the garter on one side and pulling it back so that it snaps against your skin.
“Angel, I should’ve thought of this a long time ago,” he says.
There’s no time for you to tease him, because Felix pulls his shirt over his head and discards it over the side of the bed, and you’re taken in by his gorgeous lithe body, his tiny waist and the rippling lines of his abs. No matter how many times you see him like this, it’s still exciting, that you can have someone so beautiful. He takes hold of the hem of your t-shirt next, and coaxes you upright so that he can take that off, too.
Your body is the exact opposite of his, soft where his is hard, sloping curves instead of the sharp cut of his ribs and hips and shoulders. But he leans right down over you and begins to kiss and nibble his way down your body, starting at the juncture of your collarbone. He trails his mouth over your chest, down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasp as he grazes his teeth over the bud, and he laughs gently.
Felix continues his slow ascent as you grasp at the sheets, mouthing over your stomach, soft like the rest of you. His hands hold your legs open wide for him as he moves down your body. He skips over your core entirely, choosing instead to bite sharply into the exposed skin of your upper thigh, above the band of the stockings.
“Lix!” you gasp, unable to help how your hips twitch forward at the sensation of his teeth.
He hums in response, leisurely delving forward to press a single lingering kiss to your folds, on full display in these deceptively pure white panties that hide absolutely nothing.
“Fucking love your legs,” Felix all but growls against the soft skin of your inner thigh, “Fucking love-”
Your hand flies down to grip at Felix’s hair as he bites a second bruise, this one on the tender inside of your leg. He’s never been this singularly-focused before, and you marvel at the way he’s worshipping your thighs, your waist, his hands roaming your ass and tweaking the fabric of the thigh-highs. You’ve always known that Felix liked your body – he’s your fucking boyfriend, after all. But this…
“Felix, I can’t,” you whine, “I need you, I need…”
“Oh, believe me,” Felix says, “I need it more.”
He draws away from you to push and kick his sweats and underwear off, and you watch hungrily as his cock bobs free, painfully hard and already leaking precome.
“You want – like this?” you ask, as Felix drops back on top of you, the head of his cock already nudging up against your pussy.
Felix likes it from behind, likes being able to grab your ass and watch your back arch as he drives into you. He likes you on top, so he can watch you bring yourself to orgasm using him. This is uncommon for you, missionary, you sprawled underneath Felix as he bends your knees up for better access and strokes his fingers down the length of your legs.
He nods, breathless. “Wanna see your face.”
His soft, honest admission makes your heart flutter even as you swear you can feel the arousal thrumming in your veins. You need him, need him so badly you could cry –
With a shift of his hips, Felix lines himself up and pushes into you. He’s agonizingly slow with it, just letting the head split your walls before he drags back out. He’s teasing you, absolutely doing this on purpose, and you can’t handle it. You untangle one hand from the sheets to cling to him, as he just dips the head of his cock in and out of you.
You whimper your frustration, and Felix leans in to kiss your cheeks, your nose, before pushing back in deeper, and deeper again, and finally he’s buried in you to the hilt.
“So gorgeous,” he groans, his deep voice reverbing in his chest, “You’re so good, angel, so good.”
He has one hand gripping your thigh tightly, holding your leg up beside your torso in a position that tests your flexibility more than a little bit. The other hand is digging into the curve of your hip, hard enough that you think there will be bruises.
Felix has those dancers’ hips, and core strength that lets him drive into you like he’s doing now, smooth long strokes that you arch up to meet as well as you can in his grip. He’s holding you at an angle that lets his pelvis grind against your clit every time he bottoms out. It’s not enough stimulation to let you finish, but it’s more than enough to drive you out of your mind.
“Lix, Lix, please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for.
He says something, quiet enough that you can’t really pick it up, and when you move your hand from his dip of his spine to the back of his head, Felix fixes his gaze right on you. He’s still speaking, rambling in his deep voice.  
“-Let a fucking app make you think you’re not perfect cuz their fucking jeans don’t fit you,” he’s saying, “So soft, so pretty, like fuckin’ heaven, look at you.”
You can’t look at yourself all that well, but you can look at Felix, glance down to see the way he’s burying his cock in you again and again, holding himself up to look you in the eye as he fucks you into the mattress.
“Perfect,” he swears, “Taking me like a dream, angel…”
He’s never this vocal, either, and the talk has your head spinning almost as much as the brutal pace he’s maintaining. You can hear the obscene sound of your wetness around him. The desperate, weak first stirrings of an orgasm are starting to creep up on you, but you know yourself. You’re going to need more than this to finish.
Even so, you clench around Felix as he works himself into you again, and again, and he laughs breathlessly at the feeling of it.
“Are you gonna cum for me?” Felix asks, low and sweet.
You shake your head desperately, “Not enough – Lix, please, I need-”
“Not enough?” he echoes, amused, as his hips snap against yours in perfect time, “What, is this not good enough for you, angel?”
“So good, so good, just, please,” you whine.
Felix doesn’t answer you, but he does let go of your leg to bring his fingers up to your face. You’re so far gone, so hazy with lust and the orgasm that’s building but just isn’t close enough, that you barely notice him until his fingers are pressing at your lips.
He has small, beautiful hands, and you open your mouth to let him slip two dainty fingers into your mouth. You suck on the digits, knowing how much Felix likes having your mouth on him, or his on you. He’s not picky, as long as someone is licking, biting, sucking…
“So dirty,” he sighs.
Only for him, you think to yourself. You can’t summon the words to say to him out loud, but you certainly think them. Only for him.
“Don’t hold back on me now, angel,” Felix says.
He retrieves his fingers from your mouth, and snakes his hand down between your bodies to press them feather-light to your clit. You can’t help the gasp that escapes from you as he touches you, gentle and precise. The slide would have been wet and easy enough even without the extra help, but the combination of your saliva and your wetness as it seeps out around Felix’s thick cock makes his fingers glide over your clit with friction so good it’s almost painful.
Under your breath, almost like a prayer, you’re murmuring, chanting, “Please, please, please, please, oh-”
“You first,” he says, “Come on, are you gonna give me one?”
You want to, God, do you want to. You writhe in his hold, torn between rocking away from the steady delicious pressure on your clit and into the press of his cock splitting you open. Felix throws his head back as you tremble around him - your peak is so close you can fucking taste it - and groans.
“Love you,” Felix gasps, “Shit, love you, love your body-”
That’s what does it.
That view, Felix above you, so fucked out, working so hard to make you feel good. Physically and mentally, that’s what he’s trying to do. He saw you being upset for like fifteen minutes the other day and he’s putting in all this effort to build you up. He just wants you to feel good –
“Felix!”
His name passes your lips, just once, before you’re cumming hard with a strangled moan. Felix fucks into you hard once, twice, and then thrusts into you fully with a cry of his own as he cums against your walls. He’s quick to drop down and meet your lips in a messy kiss, pressing your bodies together, skin on skin.
The two of you shudder and murmur your way through your orgasms, as you marvel at how quickly he was able to bring you crashing right over the peak with him.
Once your voice comes back to you, all your can manage is another squeaking, “Felix.”
“Yeah,” he answers, decisive, like you’ve just revealed the secrets of the universe to him. “Yeah.”
He pulls out and gingerly moves off of you, but not without stroking his hands from your waist all the way down your thighs as he goes. You laugh quietly as Felix collapses onto his back beside you, wiping his brow dramatically like he’s just gotten off a hard day at work. His cum begins to drip back out of you as you sit up, which is gross, but you just want to be close to him. You curl against his side, head on his chest, and Felix accommodates you easily, cuddling into you just as eagerly.
As you readjust on the bed, settle into a more comfortable position, you notice the bruises. Tender new bruises on your hip, and along the side of your thigh where Felix had held you so tightly. It’s the perfect shape of his fingertips, fanning out along your skin.
“Jeez,” you murmur, touching the spots and secretly relishing the way they hurt.
“Sorry,” Felix grins, though he doesn’t look very sorry at all. “Just…your thighs. Your body. Love it.”
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obeymeluv · 4 years
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Forever and Always
Story-wise, I’m stuck near the beginning of lesson 21 :(. So I’m taking a break from leveling up cards and everything to pop out a few of those ideas! The weekends are really the only time I have to do this, so it slows me down a bit.
Hope you enjoy! This time: some angst.
Lucifer’s part may be a little triggering because the reader’s been semi-sedated. I’ll basically put the warning out that these are all near-death scenarios. I have no idea what could trigger people so I can’t really tell anyone what to look out for.
P.S: I’m totally down for writing Barbatos and Diavolo but I don’t really know anything about their personalities. If any of you have made it farther into the game or have uncovered things and would like to share them, please let me know!
P.S.S: I headcanon that Mammon has a messed up or mostly broken wing. I’m very suspicious that NONE of the bros had any wing damage from when they fell. Yeah, Lucifer ripped off two of his wings but SOMEONE had to end up with broken wings. I picked Mammon.
These got super long (as always) so I’m working on part 2 with the rest of the bros right now.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ 
It’s rare anyone gets a text from Barbatos (unless it’s on Diavolo’s behalf), and even rarer when it’s just instructions. A date, a time, and a place.
And a warning.
If you’re late, they die.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ 
Lucifer
He couldn’t believe it when he read it.
Lucifer had been on edge about it. The message was enough to break him, a warm-blooded demon, out in a cold sweat
The text message had woken him up in the wee hours of the very morning you were to die
Judging by the stars outside his window and the silence in the house, he was the first up
The eldest crept along the hallways to check on all of you--starting with Mammon, Beel, and Satan, and ending with you.
His gut twisted guiltily as he confirmed Satan was fast asleep in a nest of books, slowly unwinding from the chair and slipping into the floor. It pained him to think Satan, something of his creation, would be his first guess. The main worry.
If not Satan, than who?
The question haunted Lucifer into the early morning, the exhausted demon mulling the question over a cup of coffee.
He had breakfast delivered to the house, far too concerned to cook.
It wasn’t until you decided to portion off your treat to give some to that blossoming love of yours that it hit him like a Celestial Blade
That DEMON! Lucifer stood so abruptly he nearly snapped the handle off his mug, chair shooting back with a groan.
He could hear little splinters under his feet, brain barely processing that everyone was looking at him with concern. Suspicion.
“I’ve dawdled too long. I must get ready.” he excused himself.
Lucifer disappeared to his room, collecting everything for RAD.
Everything circled back to his D.D.D. He checked his pocket two, three, four times before he was convinced it’d stay with him while he went to the academy
Everything from then on was a countdown to the time in the text message.
The message wasn’t clear if you’d be dead at that time, or if he should arrive at that time. It was the farthest thing from his mind, Lucifer kicking the classroom door open so hard that it snapped off the hinges and tumbled awkwardly into the room
The room was hardly used but had recently been cleaned. With a slice of the gardens in the window, it would have been a darling picnic spot. If it were being used for a picnic, that is.
What he stumbled into was most certainly NOT a picnic. Far from it.
He recognized your lover, the cretin, but not the other three who’d crashed this little picnic. But there they were, studying books and hissing amongst themselves as they plotted out which pieces of you to take for themselves.
Humans were the rarest of delicacies among all the delicacies, after all.
Lucifer hadn’t yet unleashed his demon form and it was the arrogance of young demons that led the four to stand as if to challenge him.
“I am no longer an angel,” Lucifer removed his gloves as he glared at them sternly. His rage, the pride of being your protector, was getting the best of him. His fangs were growing, grinding against his words and making them pointed. “But you will beg for my mercy.”
Then he flew at them with all the rage he thought he’d given to Satan. Three of them had jumped on him; he could feel them trying to bite at him and scratching his skin with their claws.
There were hazy memories of snapping, tearing, biting, and all manner of chaos. The only clear thing he remembered was the perfect stillness in the room, the tang of blood, and scooping your drugged body up as gently as he could.
“Those vile creatures,” his soft, naked hands shook against your head as he fixed your hair and picked gore from your face. You were still awake, and could still look at him. Just enough light in your eyes to process things. To endure the agony of what would have been.
All of this would’ve been avoided if he could’ve just told you first. But his pride was too great. And he was the bearer of his sin.
“You are safe, beloved.” Lucifer walked quietly from the destroyed room, shoes squelching into the hallway as he took you to the infirmary.
Mammon
He treated the text like a prized secret.
Reading it was enough to give him an anxiety attack, honestly
He’d texted Barbatos back but the butler said he could give nothing else. ‘The text must be followed’ was all he would say.
Mammon is suspicious and observant by nature. For a brief moment he considered that Diavolo was playing a prank on him and had simply stolen Barbatos’ D.D.D., maybe even put him up to it
But the prince of the Devildom wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the human transfer. Quite the opposite.
He went to go see Barbatos in person to try and squeeze some extra details out of the attendant, but was met with a stern face and narrowed eyes. Though Barbatos’ face was basically unreadable, Mammon could tell he thought about putting that silver serving platter upside his head (maybe even putting him in the stock pot)
“The text must be followed,” the butler insisted, brushing past him to reach for some spices.
Whatever it was, it was happening at Majolish
Mammon was getting ready for a shoot and his brain was frazzled.
He’d been irritated and jumpy all day.
What was he supposed to look for when he didn’t know what he was looking for?!
How is he supposed to protect you when he doesn’t know what will kill you?
Mammon sets an alarm on his D.D.D for when you’re supposed to meet your fate, and doing so almost makes him sick. He puts on a watch for extra measure.
Mammon’s in the middle of figuring out how to get you to Majolish when he hears Asmo trying to butter you into going shopping. It’s either an ‘I didn’t get picked’ pity trip or he just wants to steal you for himself
It makes Mammon think of something: do you die trying to go see him at Majolish? Do you originally go with Asmo and convince him to watch his shoot?
“Go ask Solomon,” Mammon throws his arm around your shoulder as he stares Asmo down (even though they’re the same height). “They’re busy.”
He tunes out of the usual banter, the standard names, and just gives you a gentle squeeze to start walking in time with him. Mammon ruffles Asmo’s hair for good measure, sure his little brother will spend precious time fixing it. That will give him enough of a lead to get you to Majolish.
Shoots can be laborious, Mammon is well-aware. There’s time in hair, makeup, wardrobe being painstakingly selected, and then it comes down to posing.
There’s re-shoots, different angles, all sorts of things.
He’s starting to wonder what the HELL the danger is or if Barbatos saw the wrong time. Nothing’s happened, you’re fine!
Mammon has trouble relaxing in the shoot because they keep moving you around to avoid shadows. Just keeping you out of the way, off to the side.
His hyper-fixation is starting to burn out. He checks his watch in-between pictures, ignoring all the help as the scuttle around to change lighting and reposition things.
It’s about five minutes until the accident. Mammon clutches his D.D.D. so hard it almost cracks.
He strong-arms the photographer into some couple pictures (’For the human. It’d probably help the issue sell better, anyways!”) when it finally happened.
No one hears it, of that he’s sure. HE didn’t even hear it. Mammon saw it before he heard it, the odd flicker of light. Mammon’s demon form takes over as he surges forward, blowing the photographer onto his back as he shoots overhead.
There was a huge set light plummeting towards your delicate little human head. A demon-made, Devildom brand set light that would surely turn you into a pancake.
He scoops you up and crushes you to his chest, veering around as best he can with his good wing.
The light whizzes past you both, scraping the thin skin of both wings. He stars the choppy descent down as the light crashed to the floor in a blaze of sparks and glittering glass.
“Dammit, human....” Mammon breathes into your hair, petting your head as his feet finally touch the ground again. His arm lingers around your waist a little longer than it should, but he doesn’t care.
The shoot ends there, everyone needing to clean up the mess. And your main man is now busy taking care of you, so he’s done for the day.
Mammon gets a preview issue almost a week later and is stunned to find a shot good enough for an action movie on the cover. It’s him holding you against him, barely in the air, framed by the sparks of that crashed light. A kiss would’ve made that shot worth a million bucks, is all he can think as he rolls himself out of bed to go brag about the cover.
Levi
Levi takes the text with absolute seriousness because Barbatos has never reached out to him. Ever.
Their relationship was a strained one, his and Barbatos’. Upon hearing of his ability to look into the future, Levi tried (and failed) multiple times to nicely/subtly ask for winning numbers on various raffles and ‘take a guess!’ premium giveaways.
He envied the butler for having such a cool power and hated that he was so stingy with it. But he was also afraid of being perceived as an annoying otaku and didn’t want to be whispered about as the ‘weird’ brother, so he took to avoiding him like the plague.
When he gets the text, he immediately hunts down the place where you’re to die.
The Devildom gets traveling acts every now and then. Rarely is there one that makes Levi want to come out of his room. He’s so stoked at the idea of a pop-up aquarium that he forgets he’s supposed to be investigating it and figuring out what could go wrong.
He’s familiar with all manner of sea creatures but these people have collected for centuries and there’s varieties he’s never seen!
Admittedly, he failed the objective of scoping out the place. Levi decided it was cool and would definitely come back to check it out some more.
He goes back a second time to see if he can connect with any of these creatures. There’s a link but it’s all vague. Some have nothing to show, others feel aggression, and some are waiting to be fed, and some have accepted this as their life.
It leaves him with mixed feelings, as does meeting the owners and curators. Levi gets the impression that these people don’t know how to care for these creatures, or have been doing the bare minimum for centuries.
He goes home, wondering how hard Diavolo looked into this traveling show. What if it was actually a ring con-men with stolen animals pretending to be a traveling aquarium?
Levi’s not surprised to hear Lucifer encourage the group to go see the aquarium on the day you’re supposed to die. Levi shyly tags along and intends to stay close by. He’s convinced he knows the best route through the aquarium
He’d prefer to take you on a tour by himself but doesn’t know if he has the guts.
It takes almost an hour to work through the whole aquarium, what with the groups and everything, and Levi is starting to feel socially taxed and mildly people claustrophobic.
Unexpectedly, the owner rushes everyone into a room he’d never seen. It’s a small arena speckled with chairs all facing a floating stage. Levi wants to write it off as a last-minute cash grab but can’t bring himself to say anything.
It’s almost like a weird carnival game. Pay a couple of Grimm, get a handful of feed, and see if the shadow below pops up to feast. You’re swept up into the feeding like--by Asmo? By accident? WHY. HUMAN, WHY?--and Levi knows THIS is where it happens.
He rushes onto the bobbing stage as you start tossing feed like the owner shows you, attempting to grab you around the waist and get you to FLAT, NORMAL, NICE, LAND
The creature bumps the stage and it bumps HARD. To a human it would be a small earthquake. Or like that nature documentary he and Satan watched about the killer whales knocking stuff off of icebergs.
Levi barely finishes going into his demon form when you hit the water. You’re tangled in his tail (that’s on purpose) and Levi’s trying to figure out WHERE THE HELL THE TEETH ARE.
The stage hasn’t settled enough to grab and all he can do is shoot through the water to throw the two of you onto land.
It has tendrils; he can feel them trying to figure out what he is and how to grab him. Levi wants to bite it as a defense mechanism but doesn’t know what drawing blood will do.
Your air is precious and running out. He coils and weaves himself together so you’re near his face. Levi breathes air into your mouth as the water churns and moves the two of you around.
His head breaches the surface and he does something he’s always threatened to do and probably hasn’t done in thousands of years: summons Lotan.
The creature comes when called, plopping down in the arena and generating a colossal wave that heaves the two of you onto dry land.
Everyone is understandably panicked. His brothers are dragging him away into a corner as visitors flee the room.
The owner is missing, the stage is in shambles, and the room is starting to fall apart. Lotan emerges victorious, as Levi knew he would, and eight people sit in the ruins to let the moment pass as everything falls into silence.
You plunk your head gratefully onto his chest, the two of you quite waterlogged, and Levi just pats you with a wet tail as Lotan leans its seven heads down to investigate what’s become of their master.  
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popculturebuffet · 3 years
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Donald Duck: Christmas on Bear Mountain Review!
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Happy Birthday Uncle Scrooge! Yes it was 73 years ago that everyone’s favorite stingy adventurous billionaire entered this world. And I only NARROWLY missed it as I only found out this was coming up when looking up various character birthdays during the writing of my review of “The Three Cablleros”. I now have a word document with all the various important duck characters birthdays so this doesn’t happen again, but i’m glad I did my homework as I can celebrate one of my faviorite character’s birthdays.  And Scrooge is one of my favorites. While I relate to donald’s everyman slacker spendthrift was a tad more, I still love this old bastard. He’s badass, quick witted, and earned every bit of his fortune square outside of one moment of weakness. But he has his flaws: He’s horribly cheap, quick to anger, and very dismissive and distrustful of people for good reasons and bad. He’s a complicated, interesting character and one that still works today in the reboot.. if with some slight tweaks to make him less of a greedy monster by modern standards. He’s one of my favorite comic book characters, and one of Disney’s finest, so it only felt right to honor him by going back to his roots with his very first appearance and a story that like him is 73 years old today. It’s also one I had never read until today’s review. So does this storied tale still hold up? How diffrent was Scrooge? and are there any actual bears in the story? Well come along with me as we take a trip up to Bear Mountain and find out.  This story, if you didn’t know, is by Disney Legend and Scrooge Creator Carl Barks, easily the most influential and well known duck artist.. felt like it was worth mentioning since without Carl none of this would be possible and as usual his art is gorgeous and unique to him. On with the show. 
We open with Donald and the Boys depressed, as Christmas looks to be pretty drab. While the boys are sad they don’t have a winter Cabin like everyone else...
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Donald is even more bummed he can’t afford dinner or presents as he mentions this to the boys, being flat broke. It’s also a nice character beat that Donald, despite his usual hedonism.. would be just fine, with his depression coming from the fact he can’t even give his boys a proper Christmas let alone presents. It’s a stark adult fear and something that really hits as I find the money to buy Christmas presents for all my friends and family during my current unemployment, though commissions, have been helping. 
But yes i’m doing my first Christmas review before thanksgiving’s even come in. But given the serendipity of Scrooge’s birthday and the fact I wanted to read it at some point before covering the last chapter of life and times anyway, since said story takes place DURING this one. I’ll explain how in a moment. Plus frankly with me already having to do my christmas shopping while I have money, I still feel the spirit of the holiday, so I honestly figure why not. 
But all that aside, the Nephews muse things might be better if their rich Uncle Scrooge would remember them, but probably not. We’ll meet scrooge, if you care to continue, after the cut. 
We then cut to Scrooge’s mansion. Two things to note. The first is that he has a mansion here. Now for us Ducktales fans, it’s not unusual, he lives in one in both series. But being even MORE frugal in the comics meant after this he mostly lived in the money bin to save .. well money. So he dosen’t have the mansion after this and Don Rosa explained it, as he did really most aspects of scrooge’s life, in life and times, having him decide to sell the place after also deciding to reopen the bin. Just a neat fun fact. The other fun fact is that his angry pose and expersion here were later homage in “Last Crash of the Sunchaser!”, in one of Ducktales 2017′s easily most heart pulling moments: the ending of the episode showing Scrooge truly alone once again. It’s also a nice refrence to Life and Times as at this point scrooge was just as miserable and alone according to Rosa’s masterwork, with the boys and Donald coming into his life being the thing that revitalized him. So let’s get on that shall we?  Scrooge is wallowing in his misery, having never had any fun according to himself and thinking maybe giving a present could be fun.. and decides on his Nephew as the one to give it to. But in typical Scrooge fashion instead of just giving his Grandson a gift, he’s going to have to earn it. He sends a letter to the Boys and Donald offering up his cabin, fully stocked with goodies and presents. A bit pricey for who Scrooge would become, and a bit odd to see him not complain.. but it still sets up his character as someone who wants people to WORK for what they get, but can genuinely get behind someone who shows good character, in this case he’s hoping, but Doubting, Donald will end up showing himself to be brave. And it’s STILL more plausible he’d buy luxury items to prove a point to himself, than it was in that one Ducktales comic I reviewed where he spent presumably millions to teach a ten year old a lesson about getting everything you want. Which yes really happened. 
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Still not over that one, what the actual hell, let’s move on. Basically if Donald passes the test, he’ll get a real true present and if he doesn’t, well Scrooge will have fun anyway. It is easy to see the difference in character here: While parts that would later become bedrock, his code of honor and his wanting people to EARN things instead of just having them handed to them, as well as him sometimes being a huge dick about that are there, he comes off more as a golden age villain cackling in his lair than the awesome but flawed adventurer we’d all come to know and love. I mean while he’d be no less kind to the Boys and Donald about their poverty later, this time he’s especailly bad tempting them with a nice christmas they couldn’t afford and planning to scare the bejeezus out of them. But I do like seeeing where Scrooge came from, STARTING as a decrepit old bastard and transitioning into the adventurous old bastard we all know and love. I have come to realize I do have a soft spot for characters earlier appearances, seeing what changed, what was there all along, and what was tweaked. It can be a mixed bag: with Marvel for instance sometimes you get Spider-Man, who was starkly anti-social and on the verge of understandably lashing out at the world a LOT in the first few issues, and prone to issues you wouldn’t see in a superhero comic back then. Hulk started out much smarter, greyer and meaner, eventually leading to the Joe Fixit persona being created as a result of this decades later. 
On the other hand some examples are less enjoyable like Sue and Reed Richards, who back at the start were a sexist “panicky female” stereotype and a sexist mentally distant jackass, while Hank Pym and Wasp were again, a sexist mentally distant jackass, and another stereotype this time thinking almost entirely about fashion and boys. All four would go on to be MUCH better characters with age, with the occasional slip up. I bring this up because Scrooge... is still a good character even here. While he’d become even BETTER, he’s not bad at all here, just a bit different is all. 
Back at the plot Scrooge reveals his plan by scaring the shit out of his butler: To dress up as a bear, head up the mountain and scare his nephews to see if any of them have any bravery. While Donald whimpers over the thought of bears and we get an okay gag of him thinking a squireel was one, Scrooge is forced to turn around due to the weather and gives a villain monologue about never having given anyone nothing in his entire life. I swear to god he’s basically Mr. Burns in this one. 
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Then again I would also FULLY expect Scrooge to do this to Donald in the barks stories, just maybe not have it be lethal. MAYBE. 
While Scrooge harumphs over his bad luck the boys and Donald enjoy a wonderful sleep. Despite Donald’s fear of bears, which the boys insist are hibernating, accurate, the boys force him to go out and get a Christmas tree by the age old tradition of whining until he does so. After going out back to find a tree to chop down Donald finds dead, ugly looking tree that’s weirdly heavy. To no one’s suprise, and to Donald’s natural luck, there’s a baby bear inside and as Donald gets a nice Christmas eve dinner ready for the boys, though after hearing some rustling he assumes a bear is present.. which it is. A baby bear. Awww. The little guy toddles around, and we get af ew pages of antics, with the boys chasing the bear, donald being a coward, and the bear getting into things and ending up on a rollerskate, which is referenced in life and times. However while the boys eventually find the baby.. it’s MOTHER, angry it’s cub is missing finds them and once Donald finds her, the four naturally hightale it out of there. The bears then eat all their food.. though the boys assume “there goes our presents”. Uh guys.. the presents aren’t gone you just don’t have them right this second. They aren’t showed destroying them or anything just leaning on them slightly. I mean the well stocked pantry and any candy in the presents are toast but there’s still a pretty sweet saxaphone there. Take a look. 
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See the most their doing is likely wrinkling some clothes, at worst flattening that skateboard.. or whatever that  Mama Bear is sitting on. I mean I get in the larger sense they can’t get them because bears, but still. Once they pass out the boys send in Donald to get ripped apart by a bear.. er to tie up Mama Bear so they can get the house back, rightly pointing out that they’ll freeze to death anyways.. even though they you know have a car and could just leave. Then again knowing Donald’s luck i’td probably jsut lead to this. 
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The boys aren’t slacking though and are going after the cub while Donald passes out in fear next to the bear. Scrooge arrives, but is spooked by the cub and is proud to see his young nephews valiantly chase the bebe, and is impressed by Donald’s seeming bravery, decides, after fleeing in terror which is funny. Not in line with what he’d become but STILL really funny. But anyways he decides to throw them a proper christmas as a reward.  So the next day and, thanks to Don Rosa one part of life and times later, we end on Christmas Day as for the first time in decades, Scrooge basks in the warm glow of family, and is happy probably for the first time in years. He gifts Donald a bear skin, he faints, haw haw haw the end. 
FINAL THOUGHTS: This story holds up extrodinarly well. While some aspects like Scrooge being generous or cowardly don’t jibe with his later character, it’s forgivable since, again, first appearance, and it’s an entertaining story. Granted his plan hasn’t aged well, but it’s still a fun Christmas set story with some good gags and an entertaining villian. While not Scrooge or Donald or Barks finest hour, it’s still a good bit of hollday fun that gave us one of the best characters of all time. And for that, ill be forever greatful.  If you liked this review, you can comission one of your own via my ask box, direct message or discord (technicolormuk#6550), if your more comfortable not doing buisness on here. UPCOMING REVIEWS TO KEEP AN EYE ON THIS SPACE FOR Loud House Coverage: Band Together/ The Other One Ducktales: The First Adventure! Ride of the Three Cablleros: The Three Cablleros Ride Again! 
Until then you can check my backlog on my various pages and remember, there’s always another rainbow. 
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kylekozmikdeluxo · 3 years
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RIP Blue Sky Studios...
Established in February 1987... Iconic commercials, early innovation in CGI, packed to the brim with top talent, a rare East Coast-based house, and one of the first studios in a post-Don Bluth age to really challenge Disney and Pixar in the feature animation field...
Gone.
Once a subsidiary of 20th Century Fox, The Walt Disney Company had them since early 2019 after the acquisition of their parent company. It looked as if Disney was going to keep them around, despite already having two powerhouse animation studios making family features for them. I wondered back in the day if Disney could rebrand Blue Sky as a sort-of outre little studio that did more experimental, quirky fare as opposed to the more digestible works of Disney Animation and Pixar.
Even before the COVID-19 pandemic hit, signs were rather troubling. Despite a management change, you had the rather ho-hum marketing for SPIES IN DISGUISE. To me, Disney sort-of let that one disappear between FROZEN II and STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER. I found SPIES IN DISGUISE to be a fun little movie, with a timely pacifist message and memorable gags. Sadly, it did not make its money back. Even more troubling was the constant delaying of NIMONA, an adaptation of Noelle Stevenson’s webcomic of the same name from FEAST and PEARL director Patrick Osborne. From the rumblings I’ve heard, it looked to be an innovative CG film and a next-level family film in general. Like a next SPIDER-VERSE. It was to be released January 14, 2022. 70% of the film was completed by this point... It is no longer a reality, Blue Sky is done...
450+ animators and staffers out of a job during an awful worldwide crisis...
Why couldn’t The Walt Disney Company just sell off Blue Sky Studios to a distributor looking for more animation to stock up on? If they didn’t need more than two animation studios (see the shuttering of their own Disneytoon Studios in early 2018), why shutter them and wait so long to do so? I know that absorbing competition and killing it is nothing new, but this is **expletive** for a multitude of reasons. Multiple talent out of a job, more movies and work squashed, a nearly-completed film likely dead. (It would be great if it was instead on the market, so that someone could snatch it up and complete it, but we shall see...)
Blue Sky Studios were no slouches. ICE AGE established them, big time. In fact, I’d say they helped show the industry that the features world wasn’t just Disney’s game anymore. Disney had seen rivals in feature animation in the past, notably Don Bluth and Ralph Bakshi, but they continued through the decades while Bluth and Bakshi’s feature opportunities waned. Blue Sky, alongside DreamWorks and a fledgling Sony Pictures Animation, changed that, and they were here to stay. And it’s quite sad that Disney had to acquire this notable studio and shut them down, they would’ve thrived elsewhere because of the success of their previous work and the amount of talent they have/had over the years.
They have a pretty distinct body of work, too. ROBOTS, HORTON HEARS A WHO!, RIO, EPIC, THE PEANUTS MOVIE, FERDINAND, SPIES IN DISGUISE. Some of them, I’d argue, were quite innovative. ICE AGE stabbed at cartoony, Looney Tunes-esque humor and visual design. The work in that movie rung more Warner Bros. than it did Disney or something more naturalistic in design. Their later work embraced that kind of outlook as well, but you started seeing other studios doing this as well: DreamWorks with MADAGASCAR, Sony Animation with OPEN SEASON and CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF MEATBALLS, and so on. The antithesis to the ever-more-realistic Pixar styles. Then Blue Sky just straight up redefined the computer animated feature with THE PEANUTS MOVIE, which not only kept the comic strip aesthetic of Charles Schulz’s iconic characters and world, but adapted them to a computer animated world while doing something new in the process. PEANUTS MOVIE, along with similar pictures like THE BOOK OF LIFE and CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS, are indeed stepping stones to SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE and what lies beyond that feature. In short, Blue Sky played a big part in computer animation showing that it didn’t just have to look like Pixar movies, or most other computer animated works that were out at the time of ICE AGE’s early 2002 release.
Who knows where that could’ve all gone. NIMONA looked to be something new and exciting, something to really push things forward and widen the computer animation canvas. A musical called FOSTER also sounded like it had potential. When TWDC acquired 20th Century Fox (now 20th Century Studios), Fox Animation in general had several animated films in development, hoping to branch out beyond their one studio... All of that seemingly died after the Disney acquisition, with only Blue Sky and a couple of Fox primetime TV-showed based movies (i.e. THE BOB’S BURGERS MOVIE, another - and inevitable - SIMPSONS picture) left. Now Blue Sky is gone. More animation, gutted. And for what? Disney didn’t have to do this...
It’s even more egregious when you consider where Disney was in 1991... As opposed to now, 2021...
Think of this... Under the controversial Michael Eisner, The Walt Disney Company was willing to sink a massive amount of money into a project that had already been cancelled. Said project was given to blockbuster king Steven Spielberg, hit director Robert Zemeckis, and animation mastermind Richard Williams. This was not even a few years after Disney was a quiet establishment being circled by corporate raiders that could’ve ended them for good... And what came of it. WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT. An innovative animation-live action hybrid movie for a more adult audience. One of the biggest films of 1988, a bonafide blockbuster that Disney hadn’t seen in years, and more than lit the fuse of animation’s 2nd Golden Age.
Then, in 1990, a former animator of theirs turned big-time director realizes that a short story he wrote while at the company was still owned by them. That man was Tim Burton, and he expressed interest in revisiting that poem. A studio was set up, with similarly outre director and former Disney animator Henry Selick taking the helm. The result was an innovative stop-motion film that leaned more towards horror and German expressionism than something like BEAUTY AND THE BEAST did. The result was THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS in 1993. A respectable hit then, an iconic classic today. Without NIGHTMARE, would have ever gotten future stop-motion efforts like CHICKEN RUN and everything Laika has made?
Finally, in 1991, Disney makes a three-picture deal with a small computer graphics studio based out of Marin County. One of their main guys was a former Disney animator as well, similarly outed for being too ambitious. Their plan? Make the world’s first all computer-animated movie. That studio was Pixar, their first movie was TOY STORY. Need I say more?
The Disney of today would’ve never in these three instances. Blue Sky could’ve been their chance to really make some kind of a splash in a post-SPIDER-VERSE world. Various shorts made at Disney Animation (including Osborne’s own FEAST) suggested this, and some Pixar shorts as well... But nothing really came of this. In terms of features being put out by Disney Animation and Pixar, only parts of MOANA, INSIDE OUT, and SOUL put this kind of thing in a long-form format. Blue Sky, who operated on smaller budgets, could’ve been their arm for more experimental feature animation. I say this because while Disney doesn’t need to hog up animation, Blue Sky was owned by them, and I felt the best way to go about this was to re-establish them as a more experimental studio. Make the most of it, you know? But no, they had to shut it all down.
When a studio shuts down, I feel a chunk of the animation world is just broken right off... While some of the artists are apparently being welcomed into various Disney houses, it sucks to see a studio with its own identity and output gone. Of course, my hope is that everyone employed there will have somewhere to go by April (when the studio shuts down completely) and that maybe, just maybe a new studio could be formed up from the remains. (Think Don Bluth setting up shop upon his departure from Disney in 1979.) Somebody has to get their happy ending, right? I know it’s moot asking for such a thing in this hellscape business of massive octopus conglomerates engulfing everything into their eight tentacles, but...
I wish everyone involved well, and that they’ll prosper afterwards. I certainly hope the 3/4 completed NIMONA doesn’t remain unfinished. (Netflix? Someone?) I hope to see some good come out of this...
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punkandsnacks · 4 years
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Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter One; Lifeblood.
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Author: @punk-in-docs​ and @adamsnackdriver​
Also on AO3
Trigger warnings; This is a slow burn story. NSFW comes later, but there is gory descriptive violence in this later on- I’ll tag the chapters with warnings-
Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.
He’s been stalking this earth long since civilisations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it. 
He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia. 
In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.
He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.
   ~  ~  🥀 ~  ~  
 Hampshire, England. 1816.
Winters here were always of the bitterest kind.
Everything hardened by frost. All of nature slaughtered and gnarled and made ugly by it. Everything deadened and driven away until yellow spring sunshine butters it all up. The ground wintry solid and as unyielding as the bite of stinging chill in the air.
Every loud footstep from under her cracked boots crackled and crushed with ice-crusted mud. Her treads echo off about her in the oppressive silence of the air.
Iris Ashton walked along the lonely pale road. The path ahead scattered with linen-white snow, thick like cloth, settling down in ghostly sprinkles - like fluttering ash.
Snow comes from a sky as thick and as soft as a eiderdown. Graphite grey smeared all over the horizon signaling the worst yet to come. Sky is heavy and blotted with it. Flecks already kiss and cling at her hair and her blue wool coat collar.
She can feel them land and melt on her cold numbed lips. Feels her raspy silver breath run them away.
The trees in the dark wood surrounding her on either side of the ribboning track and the pallid ground; stand majestic and strong. Like a darkly Prussian-blue swathed army standing silent attention. Frost crawls determined up their sturdy trunks. The horizon peeping through the trees is white, like a puff of spilt flour. The craggy black tips of the regimented trees scrape at the thick churning sky.
One hand laden with her heavy wicker basket. Hanging solidly down by her thigh. Handle creaking so under her glove from it’s heavy contents. Her elbow is locked straight and aching fully from the strain of it.
Mother had sent her off on one of her errands; paying calls to give some wrapped linen food parcels to the church. Cold meats and half-loaves of day old bread to give to the poor and needy. And on the way back she’d stopped and called for tea with her doddery great Aunt Lavinia. A more belligerent old dragon never drew breath.
Iris was her favourite of all the Ashton girls. All three of them. Unfortunately the lot of being the eldest and families general paragon of hope, fell onto Iris. Next was her sister Flora who is fifteen, and then there was Posy, at sixteen.
A whole compliment - a bouquet - of Ashton ladies. As the gossip columns always so proudly and wittily declared.
Iris was the level-headed, sensible elder sister at three and twenty. The one who was seen and never heard. The one with unremarkable grey eyes and fair skin. Her teeth were supportable, and her conversation was, well, fine, really.
She didn’t have dazzling honey blonde hair or a sultry head of brunette curls. Her hair was brown. Not chestnut. Not sizzling auburn blaze. Just. Brown. Like mud. Like bark. Like flat Turkish coffee.
The sensible Ashton girl, with eyes as dull as dust, and hair the colour of twigs.
She was pale, with a oval face and a stout figure that was passably pleasing. She had a fine bosom that some men liked to gawp at, and mother insisted she had a touch of child bearing hips. Which would strongly come into her favour when she’s married. As she had once said;
“Your future husband will be much delighted with such a valuable commodity, Iris.” Her Mother remarked once when she was a young girl and she was tugging and yanking her long hair into a plait ready for bed.
Iris can remember how badly she wanted to do something out of spite purely to ruin that chance. But really she couldn’t alter the shape of her skeleton with much ease.
Maybe she wasn’t a diamond of the first water. She’ll never be one of those girls who glide elegantly through a ballroom like a bevy of silk swathed swans. Preening, poised and primly perfect.
To her own mind and credit she was just - plain. Tolerable.
Adequate.
She is sometimes remarked to be too acerbic with her tongue, or her remarks. She’s certainly got a backbone and another quality that stumped men of the ton - a mind of her own making. She doesn’t suffer fools and she likes to venture that she is a blue stocking with a decent and level understanding of this world.
She’s sufficient- she supposed. Simply that and nothing more. She’ll never have poems written about her, or have a man declare he fell wildly in passionate love with her with one glance.
It suits her well enough. The fact that she looked like a dusty dull unrefined ornament next to her polished preening sisters. She’d rather fade into the wallpaper than be a dazzling spectacle of ridiculousness, like that of her two siblings.
Her simpering, inane sisters. Who flirt with any man donning a scarlet coat in the Militia. Flora and Posy, who worry obsessively about ribbons, and seek to pay no mind to anything, of any real consequence.
Iris is never one for fits of jealousy, but she is sometimes envious of their light-hearted puerile, worries. About making up their bonnets or, the next ball, or the most unbecoming stain on their new pelisse.
Aunt Lavinia greatly despised the merest sight and intimation of the younger Ashton ladies too. Iris is usually requested to go to tea with her Great Aunt, alone.
“Silly chit of a girl. The pair of them.” Was her relative’s most favoured and overused phrase.
She’d cackle it as one of her clawed elderly hands - talons - gripped her teacup. And she wouldn’t be happy until she’d griped and moaned and complained about every beast and man put on this earth. For they’ve all been put there with the sole purpose of vexing her greatly -Naturally.
Tea today was no different to any other occasion she pays a visit.
Iris sits with the sniping old matron in her freezing-cold front parlour with a piffling fire barely going. Her Aunt is always bedecked in enough black muslin to cover all of Hampshire.
A black lace matron cap staunchly on her head. Black fichu covering at her shoulders. An inky shawl on her arms and on each of her skeletal fingers sit glimmering gleaming rings which clackclackclack and scrape when she moves and points that every disapproving finger. Big fat stones of amber and ruby and topaz weighting down her frail claws.
Iris always teeters politely on the most uncomfortably hard settee opposite her. Cradling the hot spode bone-china cup of tea that her Aunt shoves in her hands. Sugar staining sickly saccharine on her lips - she never let her guests have unsugared tea.
Quite why she is the favourite Ashton, Iris has no clue. She is always interrogated by the woman as she barks nosy question after nosy question at her.
“Yes, Aunt. No, Aunt. I don’t believe so, Aunt.” As the harridan gripes about beef or sugar or candle taxes, or the local Reverend, or the gaudy new fabric on display in dressmakers window.
A whole ream of grudges being spewed out that wrinkled puckered mouth. Face pale, craggy and screwed up with lines like a sheet of crumpled parchment paper.
Her dark eyes shine forth like raisins sunk deep into scones. Glittering black and always always always dissatisfied with the whole world, and determined to find fault with everyone in it.
Iris brings her the ointment her Aunt asked for. She was suffering a hacking cough that worsened in the winter. Lavinia insists its a damp affliction brought on by unclean air.
Iris bought the woman a bottle of liniment rub, spiced with rosemary oil, camphor and spirit of wine. Her Aunt harrumphed at her offering. Stabs her walking cane into carpet in disfavour. Shoves the bottle away and insists Willow bark tea is what will cure her ailment.
Next she’ll be insisting on leeches and blood letting to balance out the humours-
Iris doesn’t fight her stubbornness - it’s a battlefield over which she will never win or hoist a flag of victory.
She drinks down three more cups of the cloying tea, interrupts the interrogation and insists rather bravely that she must be on her way - for Lord and Lady Hearst are throwing a ball this evening. On their vast estate. And she needs to scurry home to ready for it. That earns her another harrumph in response. Lavinia detested balls.
“Breeding ground for senile men and stupid women. And all that inane leaping about they now call dancing...” She grimaces.
The whole county is in uproar for this ball - little else to recommend or appreciate in this bleak dull midwinter. Whispers flourishing around town seemed inclined to favour that a mysterious Lord from the continent is in attendance tonight...
A Lord. From Bavaria no less. Apparently he owned a vast castle high up in the snowy forest smothered mountains.
Quite why he’s bothered to travel the length of Europe to this savage spit of society in the Hampshire countryside, she cannot fathom. If she was lucky enough to live in a castle, she’d never be seen again.
She recounts that scrap of gossip about the prospective Lord to her Aunt. Who thunks her cane loudly on the floor and scoffs in derision;
“Foreigners are always a grave source of disappointment - and they are so riddled with lice and ill bred manners.” So wisely declares Aunt Lavinia.
She says that about anything to do with anything and anyone not born or formed on good british soil.
She had said the very same thing last week about the pews at Church-
She leaves the little bustling hamlet. Shuts her Great Aunt’s warped cottage door. The wood shuddered, catching on the doorstep. Her arm shot through with needles of pain. Aches slipping up her back, her neck and sparking her shoulders. She hooks the heavy basket onto the crook of her elbow and sighs as she plods homeward.
Away from the small tudor, mouldy mustard walls of Lavinia’s cottage. A pretty little house. Always cold. Formed of thick stone walls and mahogany creaking stairs. Austere bare furniture sparsely filled every room. Wedged into a street with crossed glass windows and a petticoat brown tiled roof.
It was a meagre six miles from here to home. And she appreciates the walk. Or atleast she might be more inclined to favour it, were her coat more substantial.
As it is the blue wool thing is possibly a might too small for her now. It tugs and pinches so across the shoulders. And the hem ends right up her calves. Pebble-grey Kidskin gloves on her fingers, knuckles knotted stiff and her fingertips are tingling with cold.
The hem of her plain cotton voile dress, is dark with damp from the snow. The bluebell cobalt of it leeched darker at her hem. She’s shivering because her stockings aren’t the warmest wool. Her legs are trembling cold and she only wore her lightest chemise. However she is glad she bothered with the scarf.
She hadn’t put on a bonnet today. She can’t stand the fuss of one. Ribbons flapping at her ears. It was uncommon - but she went without.
Simply tied her hair back into a low coiffured bun secured with a snip of wheaten muslin. By now and with lugging this basket across all of the Hampshire countryside, some straggles of hair have come loose. Flopping uselessly to her shoulders.
She ducks her chin into her scarf to escape the exposure of a battering bitter gale, and continues trudging on with wearied, aching determination. She always trudges on. She has too. Is always the one who must endeavour to continue, no matter how bleak she feels.
It gets tiring, carrying great tonne boulders of expectations on her shoulders. She likes to think she bears the task nobly.
As her Mother takes great pains and lengths to always endlessly remind her; she is the vessel in which all hopes for the survival of the Ashton family, are stored.
She will make a good marriage match; to a gentleman of high rank or fortune - preferably both. She will save the estate from destitution. Her sisters from ruin. And her father from debtors prison. She will be the one to keep her family in the moneyed style to which they are accustomed. They will not lose Westwell to the bailiffs.
They have risen far within the ranks of society. And they will not lose their clutch or their pride. Or their respected place among it. Her fathers estate is not a vast one; but it is more than his father before him had. A meagre merchant selling spices and furs out of Putney during the Restoration.
Now the Ashtons are country gentry. With a modest dwelling of an estate, abutting a working farm. Westwell. A manor house of not much splendour and merely thirteen rooms.
Built of gold cotswold stone with huge white windows looking out onto a self-effacing garden of some prettiness. There was a pond where swans flocked in summer. Enclosed wilderness all around. A plank of wood swing hanging off one big oak chestnut that stooped over the front of the house. To the back the garden is walled, full of sculpted beds and privets and the wide green lawn is rather uninspiring in this decimating winter
They had one gardener. Two maids. A cook and a Housekeeper. They live comfortably and hardly ever exceed their income.
Her mother hopes to change that this calendar year. She wants her eldest daughter promised to someone upstanding and rich.
Iris thinks her shrew of a mother would settle with wedding her to any man . So long as he looks pleasing in a cravat, and still has all his own teeth.
She treks on through the snow. Hoping. Dreaming. Dreaming for so many unattainable things.
Wishing her basket was lighter. Wishing her parents had sired a son. So that this evening she wouldn’t have to be bound into a pinching dress, and paraded around the Hearst’s ballroom as if she’s some prized slaughter pig at a county fair.
Wishing that she could instead stay home in her untrimmed, plain nightgown. No laced stays crushing her ribs. With a hot brick at her feet. A dog-eared Swift novel in her hands. Cracked open to the good passages. She’d read by tapered candlelight and be perfectly contented, poised to encounter spinsterhood.
Instead, a painful evening of savage society awaited her.
Poison filled smiles from nasty debutantes or their matronly mama’s. Sniping at her dress or her hair or her pale skin, or her lack of fortune. Crushed mangled toes from dancing with some portly red-faced Lord-whoever-from-wherever. One who stank of port, had bad breath, and tried to pinch her bottom with fat lecherous sausage fingers, when he thought no one was looking their way.
She has no aspirations for marriage or love. She’s not a fool. She doesn’t have her head swimming with fancies from novels. No rapturous desires of tall, sable-haired men, with chiseled marble bodies seducing her astray. No cloaked villain sweeping her away in the dead of night to send her to ruin, to then have her dashing savior ride in on horseback to rescue her.
If she’s one thing at all - it is sensible. She doesn’t like to reflect on the proposition of marrying some stranger simply to arrange the business of money and bearing him heirs. She’s not a broodmare-
She’s a woman. She has a thumping proud heart and a strong-working brain and she hopes there’s more measure to her life, than submitting her body and weak will over to be governed and quieted by a future, faceless husband.
She’s sure many girls of three and twenty have felt this way. She’s sure many generations upon generations of them will continue to do so, until women cease to be sold like chattel - or like cattle at market.
Sold solely to men for the priceless untarnished commodity that lay between their thighs. And based and viewed purely on that frail scrap of fleshed dignity, alone.
She wraps her coat tighter around herself. Distinctly feeling a sense of dread starting to slither sickly cool up her spine from the prospect of the evening ahead.
Mother will wrangle her into her finest restrictively crushing silk gown. Have the maid tug and pull her hair and wrench it into a pleasing style. Jabbing hair pins in her head. Mother will see to it that she splash plenty of Yardley’s water of jasmine blossom, orange and lavender on the pulses at her wrists, and at her neck.
Then, she’ll be practically shoved into the chest of every single eligible gentleman in the room tonight in the hope they deign her to be pleasing. She’ll be pushed and prodded and maneuvered and pummeled-
And she’s exhausted. She only hopes she finds the strength to endure such torture-
She kicks through the frosted ground. Pebbles scatter and skit in her wake. She nudges the sparkling white stones with the toe of her cracked brown boots. Her feet were slowly growing numb. Toes stinging with cold. She should have worn some thicker stockings. Then again, money was not exactly a moderate opulence at home. They had to husband their resources as a family very carefully- which meant Iris couldn’t have some new leather half-boots for romping about the wilds of the countryside.
But she could have as many new hair combs, fans, or gloves and embellished stockings as she wanted. Anything that might help snare a man into visions of matrimony. Not wasted on such a thing as a new wool coat to help keep her warm in winter; or boots that didn’t let the muddy puddles seep in.
For appearances sake, the Ashton’s wealth went solely into ballgowns, perfume and finery for their girls. Some household money of course went into sensibilities like candles, meat, flour and soap. Iris was taught that she should be hugely grateful for everything that was lavished upon her.
Flora so often griped at her that she was so lucky to have such amounts spent on her. She got new gowns of printed cottons and muslin and silks and whatever she wanted. Where her and Posy had to make do with alterations and hand-me-downs to their dresses and bonnets.
Flora was so blinded by jealousy and immaturity that she didn’t quite look - really look at her sister - and realize that Iris didn’t really want any of those things-
She ruminated on all tonight might bring her. She wondered what kind of state her silly sisters would both be in when she gets home. Already donning their paper curls, lacing each other into their stays and chemises already. Arguing over who wore the best pair of silk slippers they had between them.
Mother will be in one of her bitter moods. Trying to determinedly order all her girls ready for tonight.
Moods sour with each other already and they’d be seething and spitting nasty fury at Iris. She had new things especially for this ball tonight. New pair of satin gloves and a printed silk dress. They did not. They never did.
Iris would lend Flora her old reticule - the one Mother had bought for her from Bond street. And she’d give Posy her pearl hair comb to slide into her auburn coiffure. A little balm to both of them to gently encourage some sisterly affection. She didn’t want to be at war with them all night.
She’s halfway down the narrow pale road, kicking snowy stones, when an almighty sound kicks up over the horizon, barreling in her direction. She turns her head back and hears the distant rhythmic rumbling of hooves hitting track and the clack and creak of enormous coach wheels.
Hardly surprising when this is the biggest road leading back to Pembleton, her little village.
She sees through the fog of snow, a huge black shape dominates the road. Moving fast. She lifts her skirts and steps onto the crunching grass so that the raring coach might pass her safely by. At the tremendous speed it’s going she reckons she didn’t have long before it caught up to where she’s walking.
She hears it gaining, closer and closer. Wood and hooves and snorting horses eating up the distance of the road. She dares a glance at the impossibly loud and fast carriage.
It’s a beastly thing. All looming black wood. A black liveried driver in grey wool coat. Two footmen clad the same, on the back stand. Black sturdy luggage safely stowed on the roof. Two hulking beasts of shimmering onyx shire horses are stamping and galloping and heaving the great thing along with no difficulty. Silvery wisps of air pour from their nostrils and the dripping whites of their eyes look nearly devilish past their full cupped blinders. The tack of black leather lost on their gleaming coal coats.
The noise is deafening now. It’s almost passing her. Kicking snow and frosty gritted mud out from under the churn of the hungry wheels.
She’s curious as to who could possibly be residing in such an opulent coach. No one from these parts, she’s certain of it. The richest Lord from here was two villages over on a vast estate. Lord Hexham. Who was one and eighty and had a hunched back. And he was a doddery old recluse. He hardly went raring around town in such an imposing manner.
When it draws level with her she dares a vertiginous glance up at the small arch of the door. A crest is splashed there in gold and scarlet. Like a splash of blood on a gold sword scabbard. Or a healing wound.
It’s no shock that the crest there is unfamiliar to her. It’s entwined with wolves and scarlet banners, and a shield crossed with swords. Some monstrous carnivorous coat of arms perhaps? Maybe this person’s ancestor’s had won victory in some ancient bloody battle dating back to the Normandy landings.
She looks up from the door and to her very great shock, she glimpses a man’s face.
It was a dark carriage, drawn to privacy with scarlet velvet curtains covering at the windows. But the one this side closest to her is peeled back.
Her heart thumps loud in her neck and her chest claws with slight panic and embarrassment having caught this gentleman’s eyes.
Such savage, unyielding eyes.
Bitterly black. Slicing outwards from an alabaster pale face. She barely made out features of a full proud face. A blunt roman nose, full pouting lips, and raven sable hair. Length; rakish.
It makes her inhale a sharp breath. Quickly averting her gaze. Embarrassed. Lowering her eyes.
Gawping openly at the upper echelons was never a good idea. They probably held her in the same standing as that of the mud on the bottom of their very polished boots.
He was probably some uppity Duke or Earl who didn’t wish to be gazing at the common stock. She looks to her feet. Feels the wind whip at the tendrils of her hair. Unfolds them from her scarf and whips them back over her face. Baring her neck. Snow lands on her skin. Flecks of it melt ripping like bee stings onto her hot throat.
Pale, corded, thrumming throat. Bared to the wind and the snow and the cold-
He can hear her pulse and it’s like a sweet sirens call.
She feels the strangest sensation then; no one was looking at her. But it feels like they did. It feels as if eyes are pinning her down. Raking over her skin and assessing her.
When she looks back up, dazed, the rattling loud coach is past her now. Off into the distance, into the snow.
Foggy white and smeared and blurring into the horizon. Roaring away up the track road. Away from her sight. She blinks after it’s wake. Snow tangling into her lashes. She’s shivering now if she wasn’t before, and she can’t fathom why.
She switches the basket into her other arm. Let’s it take the painful strain of the still heavy thing. Items within clunk and thump around. She steps off the crusted grass and back onto the stony pave of the hard road.
She continues on; winding homeward. She thinks about her silk gown, and new pearl earrings. And then of darker things; like devilish horses, and eyes. Eyes darker than inky shadows and deeper rich, like charcoal.
As the coach thunders off into the snow. Rutting and cracking over every bump on the road, Kylo shifted back on the scarlet bench seat. He lifts the curtain on the back window with a suave flick of his fingers, and set his black gaze once more back down the track road.
Looks back upon the lone girl in the blue coat who was walking there.
The scent of her still cloyed up in his throat - Oh, and in all the best ways.
He scented her from a mile down the road. Lavender, clary sage and sharp heat of bursting peppermint on salty skin.
The musk of her made him pant and his chest ragged. His arousal and bloodlust stirred in his chest. The drooling gnashing hell hounds of his appetite waking up and baying to be fed.
He watches her hair sway over her neck. A big gust of frosty wind blew her flavour right into his path.
His eyes rolled back in his head as he savoured her.
It made his mouth water. He’d all but outright moaned. It’s been a few moons since he last fed. His nails dig into the upholstered scarlet bench. Muscles strained. Veins corded tight in his body. Pulled taut.
His butler, Jomar. Speaks up from where he is sat opposite.
Blue silk Dastar covering his silver hair. His goatee beard was arrowhead shaped and always neatly trimmed. It stood out all the more from his bronze skin. His Punjabi cadence Kylo always thought was like cinnamon dashed in milk. He had a comforting warm voice.
“I wonder, shall you like the society hereabouts, your lordship?” He seeks curiously. Melting walnut eyes finding Kylos over his gold half moon spectacles, and looking past the small red leather backed Voltaire, open in his hands.
Lord Ren smirks. His eyes glimmer. Cool and hungry. Silver black like daggers.
“Absolutely.” He wets his lips. “The local cuisine looks delicious.”
     ~  ~  🥀 ~  ~  
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brain-deadx0 · 4 years
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The Lost Prince ch. 2
SUMMARY: The kingdom of Elan had once been at peace. It’s said that so long as the royal family lived the land would flourish with them on the throne. But when an unexpected enemy appeared and took the lives of the royal family many stopped believing in the legend. It was simply a ploy by a former ruler to discourage a coup. But some say that the new king sparred the young prince out of fear of the myth, and that one day the true heir would once again take the throne.
Previous - Next
CHAPTER SUMMARY: It’s been thirteen years since the takeover. Let’s check in on Virgil and Janus to see what they’ve been up to. Nothing. Let’s change that shall we?
WARNINGS: imprisonment, blood, death mention, let me know of any others
Blood.
So much blood.
Countless bodies piled around him. Some he could make out. Faces of the ones he grew up playing with. Others were faceless shadows.
Smoke.
There must’ve been smoke. The smell of iron blocked it out but there was an unmistakable burning in his lungs.
A hand appeared around his throat cutting off any air he might have been getting.
He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out.
He thrashed around trying to fend off the unseen attacker until a voice seemed to cut through the silence.
”-us.”
”Wake up.”
Janus bolted upright before taking stock of the face in front of him.
”Virgil?” He asked weakly.
”Yeah. It’s just me.” He breathed as his friend seemed to come out of his nightmare, “Everything’s ok.”
Virgil opened his arms in a silent invitation and Janus was quick to grab hold of him.
Thirteen years ago the kingdom of Elan faced a brutal takeover that resulted in the death of the royal family and many of their servants. In the weeks following, the members of the royal court either disappeared or ended up killed publicly.
The citizens of the kingdom were given no time to grieve as the king quickly began creating new laws. Soldiers flooded the streets both informing and enforcing these laws. Anyone who attempted to resist was killed.
The message was clear. The land belonged to King Saul now, and anyone who said otherwise wouldn’t live long enough to challenge that.
When news spread that the royal family was dead many people feared that the land would die with them. But after several years with the land still prospering the Legend of the royal family was disregarded as a simple myth. A story made up by a previous ruler.
Some people argued that the new king must’ve sparred the prince out of fear of the curse.
And they were right.
Virgil stared out the window as the grey morning sky slowly turned to blue. And after a few minutes of silence Janus shifted. “Water?” Virgil asked as the two separated. Janus nodded.
Virgil stood up from their shared bed-mat and walked across the small room to the water bucket. As he scooped some water out with the cup he noted idly that they only had enough for another day or two. He’d have to remember to ask for some the next time someone brought food.
”How long do you think it’s been?” Janus asked as he was handed the cup.
“Long enough to know our knight in shining armor must’ve gotten lost.”
“I don’t think so.” He told told him as he sipped the water.
“Really?” Virgil smirked as he raised an eyebrow.
“Obviously they climbed up here while we were sleeping, took one look at the two of us and realized they were scarcely underdressed. Ran straight home for their best clothing to match.”
“And on their way back fell in a mud puddle.” Virgil added.
“Amazingly gorgeous.” Janus said before downing the rest of the water.
“With rotten luck.”
“Just like us.” Janus finished.
Sometimes Janus did wish that there was someone out there attempting to come to their rescue. That somehow someone knew he and Virgil were alive and were plotting to storm the castle one day. ‘Not that they would get far but the effort would be appreciated.’ He thought to himself.
The two of them spent the morning walking around the perimeter of the room. It was mostly silent but once the topic of how many pages were required before a pamphlet became a book came up the two began to debate.
The sound of a tray scraping against stone caught their attention but didn’t deter them. “How is twenty-five pages a pamphlet?” Virgil asked as he picked it up. “The same way six is a book.” Janus told him as he sat at the table.
Virgil sat across from him, “Ok so it’s a short book, but there is no way you could call a twenty-five page pamphlet a pamphlet.” He told him before tearing the small loaf of bread in half and handing some to Janus. “Maybe its a pamphlet about long pamphlets.” Janus shrugged.
“Ah crap.” Virgil said suddenly.
“What?”
“Forgot to ask for more water.”
“You had one job.”
Virgil ripped a bit of bread off his half and threw it at Janus’s face. It bounced harmlessly off of his forehead before landing back on the table. “I hope you know this is mine now.” Janus told him smugly as he picked it up and popped it in his mouth.
Virgil glared back at him but it wasn’t long before both dropped their facades and ate breakfast.
-
“Your Majesty,”
“What is it?” King Saul asked without looking up from his paperwork.
“A servant has requested to speak with you.” His advisor informed him.
“I don’t have time to waste on the complaints of a simple servant.” King Saul told him irritably.
“I understand Sire, but supposedly it’s important.”
“Probably just another complaint about wages.”
“Actually he mentioned it had something to do with the former royal family’s magic.”
King Saul paused, “What about it?” He asked.
“I’m not sure.” The adviser admitted, “He asked to speak to you about it in private.”
King Saul thought for a moment. “I suppose I could spare a few minutes. Send him in.”
”Of course, your Majesty.” The advisor bowed before turning to leave.
A minute or so later a man wearing standard servants clothes walked through the door. “Your Majesty, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He said, bowing deeply.
”Yes, yes, get on with it before I change my mind.” King Saul warned.
“O-of course, your Majesty.” He said before revealing a worn leather book, “I found this hidden in a part of the library. I believe it tells about the magic that tied the land to the royal family.”
“I’ve heard the stories.” King Saul told him, “What could an old book like that tell me that I don’t already know?”
The man opened the book and flipped through a few pages. “Um, here.” He said as he held the open book towards the king, “I believe it describes a way to transfer the magic from one being to another.”
With his interest piqued, King Saul reached out and took the book. He didn’t recognize the language it was written in but there was a few pictures that seemed to suggest the mans claims.
“All I see here is symbols and pictures. How do I know you aren’t lying?” King Saul asked as he eyed the man suspiciously.
“It’s written in a mostly forgotten language, I admit, but I can read it. There was a tutor here who could read the language and he taught it to anyone willing to learn. I read the book and it talks about a place called the Delego. Where you can perform a ritual that will transfer the lands magic from the head of the royal family to a person of their choosing.”
King Saul considered the mans words for a moment. If he could magically tie the land to himself like the previous rulers had then his rule would be absolute. No one could deny him without putting themselves and everyone they loved at risk.
“You said you could read this.” King Saul started, “Surely you must have some sort of request for your assistance.”
The man seemed to weigh his options for a moment before finally speaking, “I... I want enough gold to start a new life with my wife... but in a different kingdom.” He admitted.
King Saul eyed the man intently. The longer he let the silence stretch the more nervous the servant seemed to get. King Saul huffed out a laugh that nearly made the man jump.
“So, you plan to sell the kingdom to me so that you may leave it. Is that correct?” King Saul asked.
The man shrunk, “I-I suppose you could put it that way. I mean no ill will, your Majesty. I swear.”
King Saul considered for a moment. What’s a bit of gold and a servant anyway?
“Alright then. Tell me what needs to be done.”
-
“I have a three of hearts, the ace of spades, and seven of diamonds.” Janus claimed coolly.
“Bull on two.” Virgil accused, “I have the queen of hearts, two of clubs, and three of diamonds.”
“Bull on one.” Janus told him.
Just as the two were about to lay their cards down there was a knock on the door. Virgil flinched and dropped his cards. A knock never brought good news.
The two quickly rose to their feet as the door swung open. Two guards entered and Virgil moved himself in front of Janus. He was about to ask what the intrusion was about when the man calling himself king stepped through the door, silencing anything protests.
-
King Saul took in the sight of the two prisoners before him. The golden eyed boy had his hair tied back neatly and was standing wide eyed behind the scullery rat. The rat in turn had his black hair free and was standing protectively in front of the former prince and glaring.
“Well, well, and here I was expecting to see children.” He told them.
The scullery rat clenched his fist but anything he might’ve said was cut off when a hand rested on his shoulder. “If I may,” the former prince asked, “what is the reason behind your sudden visit?”
“I’m here because you’re going to be transferring your family’s magic to me.”
“What?” Both boys said in confusion.
“We’re going to the Delego. And once we get there you are going to transfer the land to me.” King Saul told him.
“Like hell he will.”
-
Virgil barely had time to register what he had said before being backhanded across the face. “Virgil!” Janus gasped as Virgil barely kept himself from falling. “I’m ok.” Virgil told him quickly as he straightened back up.
“Now,” The man started again, “we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. And remember, I only need one of you.” He said as he glared directly at Virgil.
“What makes you think I would willingly give up my birthright?” Janus asked.
Both young men flinched back when the king drew his sword and pointed it directly at Virgil’s throat. “You do as your told and he doesn’t die. Remember?” The man growled.
“You kill him and I swear to you that no matter what you do to me I will never, under any circumstances, give you the royal magic.” Janus told him.
The man glared at him for a moment, “When we reach the Delego you will transfer the magic. And in return I’ll set you both free.”
Those words caught both Janus and Virgil of guard.
“H-how do we know you aren’t lying?” Janus asked, “You said the same thing right before you murdered the rest of our friends. What’s stopping you from killing both of us the second you have what you want?”
“Nothing but my word.” He told them, “And it’s the only chance either of you have of getting out of this room. So you better make up your mind by the time we make it to the Delego.”
Virgil and Janus stayed frozen as the king resheathed his sword and left the room.
“His word isn’t worth shit.” Janus glared at the door once they were alone again.
Virgil didn’t know what to do. He knew it had only been a matter of time before Saul remembered they existed and now they were gonna die. Ohgodtheyweregonnadie. He would figure it out and then he was never gonna let them go theyweregoingtobetstuckhere or worse. Just because he mostly ignored them before didn’t mean he couldn’t start now and if that happened whoknowswhatwouldhappentheycould-
Virgil flinched when an arm wrapped around his shoulders. When did he get on the floor? Janus was saying something. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and placed it on his own chest.
“-riding here on a white horse and everything.” Janus said, “They just got some bad directions from a witch.”
“...Amazingly gorgeous.” Virgil said after he started to get his breathing under control.
“With rotten luck.
“Just like us...”
...
Virgil and Janus were woken up early the next morning. Their hands were cuffed in front of them before they were ushered out by guards. Neither of them could fully contain their curiosity as they let their eyes wander to take in everything around them.
When they eventually made it outside the two couldn’t help but pause. Seeing the world through the bars of a tower window was nothing compared to the view on the ground. They could finally make out the leaves that covered the bushes and trees. Even in the early morning grey they could see the various shades of green that were impossible to distinguish from their usual view.
Unfortunately they didn’t have long to stare before being shoved forward again. They were ushered into the back of a small wagon and barely had time to sit down before the door was closed and locked behind them.
They were only given a few moments before they heard the King’s voice. “We’ll be at the Delego three days from now. I suggest you make up your mind by then.”
Janus waited until they began to move before whispering to Virgil, “I have an idea.”
...
“Hell no.” Virgil said firmly once Janus finished explaining.
“Virgil-“
“I am not leaving you behind. Janus, he. Will. Kill you.” Virgil told him.
“I’ve been waiting for him to kill me the moment I told him I was the prince. At least this way one of us has a chance.”
“Even if by some miracle he agrees to letting me go, I won’t do it.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Janus hissed, “This is our only chance. We can’t give him what he wants, Virgil. And I’d rather you be as far away as possible when he realizes that.”
“But-“
“For gods sakes let me protect you for once.” Janus pleaded.
Virgil sighed, “Alright. But I won’t go far.” Before Janus had a chance to protest he added, “I’ll stay hidden, I promise. If you manage to get him to let you go afterwards I’ll find you. I can’t lose you too...”
Janus leaned against Virgil’s side, “I don’t want to lose you either.”
...
The next several hours were mostly silent. They had at one point attempted to look through the cracks of the locked windows, but the rocking of the wagon made it a bit hazardous. So they tried to relax and had nearly dozed off by the time the wagon pulled to a stop.
Now wide awake the two strained their ears to hear what was going on outside.
“We’ll rest here for the night.” They heard someone say. The wagon was jostled a few more times as it was repositioned and the horse was unhitched.
Now that they were still both Janus and Virgil stood up to stretch before moving to the windows. They peeked through the cracks and attempted to take in the forest outside. They could see soldiers walk past occasionally as they set up the camp.
They stayed that way for a while until the outer door of the wagon opened. The two of them shot away from the windows and were back up against the far wall before the door was fully opened. The soldier smirked at their reaction but didn’t say anything as he tied the door open.
After a few minutes of nothing happening, Virgil and Janus made their way to the door. They were so close to the ground. If their hands were free they might even be able to reach far enough to touch the grass. Janus nudged Virgil before pointing out some sort of beetle that was scuttling along. They watched the beetle for a minute until Virgil noticed a squirrel sitting in a nearby tree; chewing on a pine cone. They spent even longer watching the squirrel move between trees until it was out of sight and went back to looking for any other bugs that might be wandering nearby.
The two of them were so focused on the various little things going on around them that they barely noticed one of the soldiers walking towards the wagon. They sat up and moved away from the door once the realized he was heading towards them. They tried not to be disappointed as they waited for the man to simply close the outer door.
But the door never closed.
Virgil and Janus watched as the man bent down and ripped a chunk of grass out by the roots and dropped it inside the wagon before turning to leave again.
They waited till he was sitting back by the fire before touching it.
The grass itself felt slightly cool at first and when Virgil slid his fingers up the stalk it was smooth. When he tried to run them back down his fingers seemed to catch as the smooth surface became corse. The roots were a bit rough from the dirt that cling to them but were almost springy compared to the grass itself.
Janus could feel the grains of dirt as he rubbed a bit between his fingers. The dry bits were almost soft as they fell off the sides of his hand. The rest of it was cool and damp from being underground. If Janus wanted he could even change the shape of it.
Both young men were completely enthralled as they handled the little bit of earth they had been given. Neither noticed any of the eyes that flicked in their direction as they held silent conversation with each other.
~~~~~~notes~~~~~~
Nothing too exciting this chapter but next chapter we’ll get to see what Janus’s plan entails and weather or not it will work. And some more characters should be shouting up soon *hint hint wink wink*
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kwanisms · 5 years
Text
Noisy Neighbor - lhs
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anonymous said: hiiii i love your writing so much! i genuinely enjoy every piece you’ve written so far lol idk if your requests are still open but if you have the time would you mind writing a scenario where monsta x’s wonho lives in the apartment next door and there’s always fighting and disagreements over him being loud when he has “special dates” over but it’s because there’s ignored sexual tension
⤑ genre: smut  𝕊 𝕀 ℕ ⤑ pairing: Hoseok x Reader ⤑ warning: smut galore, like clothing ripping, foul language, mention of alcohol ⤑ summary: (Y/N) loves everything about her apartment― except her neighbor, Hoseok. He’s the definition of annoying and loud neighbor. Despite being told off and (Y/N) threatening to call the police numerous times, Hoseok hosts a particularly loud party at his place, resulting in (Y/N) confronting him. Tension snaps as Hoseok finally kisses her. ⤑ word count: 6.3k
a/n: I loved writing this. This was so much fun and I love this idea so much! Thank you for requesting it! I hope you like it! ~K♡
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To say you hated your apartment was a blatant lie. You loved it. The location was right, the rent was well within your budget, and you really loved having a unit on the end of the hall, giving you not only an amazing view, but turning your bedroom into mostly glass windows. It was a beautiful apartment. Light grey walls, dark hardwood floors, and new stainless steel appliances.
It was a two bedroom unit overlooking the downtown area. It had a large front room open to the kitchen and dining room. The outside wall was nearly ceiling to floor glass windows with remote controlled shades. The floors were done in a dark wood to contrast with the walls painted in a soft off white color.
Your bedroom was in the corner of the unit, providing you with two walls of windows. The master bathroom was to die for and not what you would usually find in an apartment. It had an oversized garden tub, dual sinks, a decent sized walk-in shower, and a spacious closet. Even the toilet had it's own little room.
The second bedroom was set up as a guest room with a bed, two nightstands and a dresser. It had its own bathroom and a small closet as well.
The selling factor, was the den. A small room off the living room with double doors. You had set it up as a home office.
The only thing you didn't like about your apartment was your neighbor, Hoseok. He was a very noisy person, throwing parties that lasted until 3 in the morning, inviting girls over and not bothering to keep it down when they were in his bedroom.
You heard a lot more than you bargained for. You never wanted to know what Hoseok sounded like when he came but unfortunately for you, his bed was on the other side of your living room. Luckily, you could escape to your bedroom and it would muffle the sound but it was still difficult to drown out the sound.
Truth be told, you hadn't gotten much sleep since Hoseok moved in next door, despite going over and telling him politely to keep it down. Hoseok promised he would try, yet he never made good on his promises and at this point, you were sure it was on purpose.
Last night had been like every night since Hoseok moved in.
You headed out your front door into the hallway and made sure to lock your door before making your way down the hall to the elevator. You pressed the button and waited patiently for the lift to arrive. The sound of a door opening caught your attention and you turned to see Hoseok stepping out of his apartment in his sweats, boots, and a compression shirt, carrying a trash bag.
Hoseok's eyes met yours and he immediately broke into a grin. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. You weren't going to play this game. Not today. Hoseok approached quietly and stood next to you as both of you waited for the elevator.
“Morning,” Hoseok said, a slight hint of amusement to his voice. You tried not to grit your teeth or clench your hands. He knew how to rile you up. Hoseok loved pressing your buttons. You were determined to not let him get to you, so you turned to him and nodded. “Morning,” you replied shortly. Hoseok's grin spread.
“Sleep well last night?” he asked and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from snapping back. “Not really,” you replied. Hoseok nodded silently before finally saying, “I'm sorry to hear that.” You held back a scoff, knowing it would mean defeat.
You opted to say nothing, instead bringing your coffee to your lips and taking a sip. Silence surrounded you and you could feel the tension between the two of you rising.
There was always this unaddressed sexual tension between you and your neighbor. If it wasn't for the fact that he kept you up until the crack of dawn fucking a different girl each night, you probably would have given into his flirting before.
Hoseok was an attractive man to say the least. He had an incredible body, everyone knew it. He worked out a lot. You saw him more at the gym in your building than you did outside his apartment. He was definitely a “gym rat.”
The two of you said nothing as you both stepped onto the elevator after it arrived. You took another sip of coffee as the silence continued for the duration of the elevator ride.
The elevator reached lobby and Hoseok stepped put first, allowing you a nice view of his broad shoulders, sculpted back, and his nearly perfect ass as he made his way to the door that led to the building's trash and recycling room. He waved as you headed for the door. “Have a nice day at work!” he called, smirking.
You narrowed your eyes but bit your tongue as you headed out onto the street and made your way to the bus stop. He was such a smug asshole sometimes. He knew he kept you up, why else would he make such remarks? You shook off your annoyance at him and pushed him from your mind; you could deal with it later.
The bus arrived on time and you got on, swiping your pass and taking a seat near the back. With living in the city and traffic as bad as it was sometimes, taking the bus was a much smarter option than driving. You didn't have to try to find a parking space with a bus, so you left your car in your parking space at home.
The ride usually took about 10 minutes and you were at work in no time, greeting the doorman as you approached the tall high rise building that took up a corner of a medical complex. You weren't a nurse or a doctor. You did clerical work in one of the suites, organizing files, running the reception counter, and all the usual duties of a receptionist.
It wasn't what you went to school for but the hours were good, the pay was great, benefits included and it allowed you to continue your online courses until you finished your master's program and moved on to your ‘big girl’ job.
You clocked in, sat down at your desk behind the counter. Stashing your things under the desk and started up your computer. Getting your station set up took little effort and once you were done, you were ready to conquer the day. The doctor you worked for had few appointments today. It was an easy day.
The office opened on time at 9 am and the first patients showed up shortly thereafter for their appointments. You checked them in, passing their information along to one of the three nurses that worked in this suite. After that, you got to sit there and play around on your computer or phone. Your boss was very relaxed.
Time ticked by as more patients for the day came in and checked in with you. The phone barely rang but when it did, you answered it with a professional air, answering questions, putting calls through for the doctor or a nurse, and scheduling appointments for the day. It was a really easy job, all things considered.
Lunch finally rolled around and the office always closed for an hour so you had plenty of time for lunch. You donned your cold weather clothes and grabbed your purse before heading out to go grab a bite to eat at the little deli down the street. They had the best sandwiches and their soups were so delicious.
You got in line and perused the menu, settling on a club sandwich and a cup of potato soup. The girl behind the counter, Melanie, was on a first name basis with you by this point since you visited so often. When you stepped up to the counter she flashed you a bright smile.
“Afternoon, Miss (Y/N). What can I get for you today?” she asked. You placed your order, asking for light mayo instead of the regular and bought a bottle of water as well. As you fished out your wallet, Melanie got a good look at you and inhaled sharply. “Are you not getting any sleep, Miss (Y/N)?” she asked. You let out a wry laugh as you handed your card to her.
“As a matter of fact, I’m not. I had hoped I put on enough concealer to cover it. Guessing I didn't?” you asked as she ran the card, grimacing at you as she did before shaking her head slightly. “No ma’am,” she said before handing you back your card. You sighed lightly and thanked her when she handed you your receipt and a little table marker.
Your food came out swiftly and after finishing it, you headed back to the office to find that the doctor had to close early. He let you go home early as there were no other appointments scheduled and he had something he had to take care of. So you caught the bus back home a whole 2 hours early.
You decided to run some errands. Your fridge and pantry were running low on supplies, you needed new shampoo and your concealer was almost out, and not to mention you needed an outfit for your company's holiday party.
So you went to your favorite beauty supply store and grabbing what you needed, then your go to store for clothes and quickly found a nice but simple outfit, and finally to the store, grabbing the essentials and stocking up before heading home. By the time you reached your building, you had eaten up most of those two hours.
As you waited patiently for the elevator to arrive, your mind wandered back to what Melanie had said. If she had noticed the dark circles through your makeup, who else had?? The realization made your blood boil. You stepped into the elevator seething.
This was all Hoseok's fault. He was keeping you up for days on end with the noise and it was showing on your face. You felt embarrassed and mortified that Melanie pointed it out. She couldn't have been the only one to notice, just the first to say anything to you.
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open and you were greeted by muffled music playing. Your anger only grew as your stormed to your neighbor's door, raised your fist, and hammered on the door. It didn't take long for Hoseok to answer.
Inside, loud music with heavy bass was playing and there was background noise from some video game. Hoseok was wearing a pair of dark grey sweats, no shirt, and a wireless headset. His eyes lit up when he saw it was you at the door and a smirk settled on his face as he greeted you.
“Afternoon, miss,” he said playfully. You narrowed your eyes, letting all your anger fuel your actions. You chose your next words carefully.
“I hope you're pleased with yourself. You've managed to keep me up for so long that my concealer doesn't even do its job of covering up my exhaustion. The girl at the deli near my work pointed out how tired I am. So thanks again,” you said your voice dripping with sarcasm. Before Hoseok could answer, you turned on your heel and headed for your door.
Once back in the comfort of your apartment, you put away your groceries and decided to hop in the shower before changing into something more comfortable and settling on the couch to catch up on a few of your shows. The sound from Hoseok's apartment had ceased and you were mild surprised. It didn't last though.
Around dinner time, you made yourself something to eat before ending the night with a movie and a few glasses of wine. Around 8 pm, you heard more muffled music and muted the TV. Of course, you thought rolling your eyes and unmuting the television. You turned the volume up to drown out the sound of fast music coming from your neighbors apartment.
The television did help to mask the music for a while but soon you heard voices and laughing. Damn it. You just wanted a quiet night in. You silently cursed the day that Hoseok moved in next door. He and his friends were truly awful specimen.
After a few more minutes of trying to block the sound, you growled and got up from the couch, heading for your door and stepping out into the hallway where the music was easily 10 times louder. You pounded on the door and after a few minutes, Hoseok answered, a red solo cup in his hand. A smile grew on his face when he saw it was you at the door. “Hey, decided to join us?”
You shook your head. “Please try to keep it down, okay? I have to work in the morning.” Hoseok nodded and looked back into the apartment. “Of course. I'll have them out of my place no later than 11,” he said giving you a wink. Liar. You thanked him anyway and made your way back into your apartment.
As 9 drew closer, the music increased, as did the sounds of people shouting and laughing. As beautiful as the apartments were, the walls were extremely thin. You had half a mind to call the developers and chew them out for their shitty blueprints.
10 o'clock came and went and it was now a quarter till 11. You waited to see if Hoseok would make good on his word. As 11 approached, the music and talking dwindled down until it was silent on the other side of the wall. You were shocked. You couldn't believe it. Had he actually listened?
Your victory was cut short however by the subtle moaning coming from behind the wall and you groaned. Ugh fucking prick. You headed for your room, grabbing your trusty earplugs and shut your bedroom door, drowning out the rest of the sound. Hopefully it would stay that way and you could actually get some sleep.
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The next few days, Hoseok hosted parties each night but only that one ended at 11. You felt as though he was doing it on purpose at this point. You sat awake in your bed until nearly 3 am each night, unable to sleep due to the loud music traveling into your apartment. The fourth night was when you finally had enough.
Dressed in your pajamas, a sleep shirt, shorts, and your favorite fuzzy socks with paw prints on them,  you headed over to your neighbor's apartment and banged on the door. Some girl answered. Her eyes went wide as she saw you. “Can I help you?” she asked but you pushed past her into the apartment.
You searched the crowded room for Hoseok, finding him quickly sitting on his couch with a very pretty brunette perched on his lap. He was smiling as she whispered in his ear but when he saw you standing in his front room, dressed in your pajamas, his smile fell only to be replaced with a smirk as his eyes trailed over you.
“What's the matter?” he asked over the music. You glanced over to where the music was coming from. A simple laptop hooked up to several speakers. You stormed over to it and unplugged the speakers from the laptop, effectively stopping the music. The crowd whined and you slammed the laptop shut before rounding on Hoseok. He had pushed the girl off his lap and stood up.
“What are you-” he started but you help your hand up and silenced him. All eyes were on you but at this point you were so done that you couldn't care less. You were fed up. You needed your sleep and Hoseok was preventing that. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“Look, I put up with a lot of shit from you, Lee Hoseok, but I'm drawing the line here.” You paused for effect before continuing. “I have asked you numerous times, rather politely I might add, to keep the sound down. A simple request, no?” you asked. Hoseok nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving your face as you spoke.
“Then why is it, i ask a simple favor of you, you can't even do that? Are you stupid? Are you deaf? Do my words just go right in one ear and out the other? Clearly that must be the case, since you have no fucking brain. Otherwise, you would be courteous and keep your shit down for once.” Hoseok opened his mouth but you shook your head.
“I'm still fucking talking, so shut up,” you snapped. Several party goers ‘oohed.’ Hoseok looked at them and they stopped at once before he turned his attention back to you. If he thought this was embarrassing, he had no idea what was coming.
“I'm sick of hearing your shitty ass music. It comes through my walls and despite having my bedroom door shut, I can still hear it,” you said, not caring how much of a dick you sounded like. Hoseok needed to know he was in the wrong.
“Same goes for your nightly escapades. I can hear literally everything. I hope they aren't faking it for your sake but I'm gonna be real with you, no girl moans like that. They're exaggerating. Sorry, but you deserve the truth.” Hoseok turned a deep shade of pink. You wanted to hit him where it hurt.
“I have asked nicely too many times and you refuse to honor my wishes so if you can't keep it down, I'm going to call the police. I'm not joking at this point. I work in the morning and I need my fucking sleep. So, this is your final warning. Get all of these assholes,” you said gesturing around the room.
“Get them out of this fucking apartment, now. And I mean everyone goes. Even that skinny little brunette who was sitting on your lap earlier. I don't want to hear one peep from this apartment, am I understood?” you looked him in the eye. His smile was gone and was replaced with a scowl. You didn't care.
He started this. It was his own fault and he brought it on himself.
However mad he may be, Hoseok didn't respond. You turned on your heel and shoved past the ring of people that had form around you and Hoseok. You heard him call out to you but you didn't care. You wanted to go to bed.
You returned to your apartment, locking the door before you headed for your bedroom. You sat in bed waiting for your anger to subside and the adrenaline to go down so you might actually get some sleep tonight. The universe had other plans.
It had only been a few minutes since you returned home that you were interrupted by the sound of knocking. You got up and made your way into the front room where the knocking turned into banging. You unlocked the door and opened it.
Hoseok was on the other side, hand clenched into a fist raised above his head, ready to hit the door again. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of you and lowered his hand.
“What do you-” you began but he interrupted you.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he snapped towering over you. His sudden crassness threw you off guard and you struggled to find an answer. Whether or not Hoseok was expecting an answer, he didn't give you time to talk.
“How dare you come into my home and embarrass me in front of my friends. That was low, even for you,” he continued. You suddenly found it in you to speak.
“Excuse you,” you started. “I believe I had asked you numerous times since you moved in to keep the damn noise down. You can't even follow a simple request, so clearly you must not be that smart.” Hoseok opened his mouth but you beat him to it.
“I haven't slept right in weeks. I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm angry. I just want to fucking sleep for once. I never wanted to be that neighbor who calls the cops but clearly me asking isn't enough incentive so calling them was the next step.”
Hoseok still said nothing so you went on.
“I'm so unbelievably tired. The the music lasting until dawn and the loud sounds of your nightly escapades, it's too much goddamn it.” Your voice cracked as you threw your hands up.
Hoseok pushed his way into your apartment, shutting the door behind him. You backed up, your eyes widening. “What are you doing?” you asked as he advanced on you. You backed into the sofa and were now effectively trapped between him and your couch, Hoseok's eyes never leaving your face.
The two of you were silent, eyeing each other for what felt like eternity. The unaddressed sexual tension you always felt in his presence grew, filling the space around you, almost suffocating you. Finally, you managed to speak. 
“What are you waiting for?”
As if waiting for a silent command, Hoseok moved. His hand cupped the back of your neck, the other steadying himself on the back of the couch as he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing against your own. Your hands instinctively grabbed his shirt, pulling him in closer.
Hoseok parted his lips, his tongue darting out allowing the tip to brush against your bottom lip and you answered by letting him in. Your stomach did flips and your heart raced. Blood pounded in your ears as you felt Hoseok's free hand grip your waist.
The two of you parted after a few moments to catch your breath, lips swollen from the heated kiss. Hoseok watched you closely, gauging your reaction. Your eyes were wide, searching his own.
A small smile made itself known on Hoseok's face before he opened his mouth and said in a breathless voice, “finally.”
He picked you up, using the back of your thighs to lift you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, hands holding on to his shoulders as he set you on the back of the couch. He pressed light kisses along your jaw, stopping to nip on the sensitive skin of your neck.
“Do you want this?” you asked in a stained voice. Hoseok chuckled, his breath tickling your skin. “Do you want this?” he repeated your question, pressing his obviously erection into your clothed core. You gasped at the feeling before letting out a shameless, “please, just fuck me already.”
Hoseok let out a laugh before setting you down. He reached up, caressing your cheek as his free hand roamed, sliding into the waistband of your pants. His fingers skimmed past your panties as he delved deeper, his fingertips found the wetness pooling in your underwear. Hoseok chuckled as he pushed a finger past your folds, easily finding your clit. A moan escaped your lips.
Hoseok slowly circled the bundle of nerves, watching your face as he did. He was fascinated by the way your brows knitted together, your eyes shut as he teased you in long drawn out movements.
“Stop teasing me,” you whined grabbing his forearm and pushing his hand deeper in your panties. Hoseok let out another laugh before slipping a finger inside you. Another gasp left you. Hoseok used his free hand to grab your waistband and pulled down your pants, letting them pool around your ankles before you kicked them off.
Hoseok took the opportunity to eye the thin lace material of your panties, sneaking you a devilish grin before he brushed his finger over the cloth. “These are cute,” he mused before looking up and catching your gaze. “Did you wear these for me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he continued, slowly pumping his hand, adding a second finger. You gripped the sofa below you, trying to ground yourself.
As he sped up, Hoseok watched you. The way you threw your head back, the small gasps and whines that left your lips were like music to him. He pulled his hand free and brought his fingers to your lips. You took them in your mouth without hesitation.
Hoseok took your hand and pulled you off the couch before leading you around and pushing you on the cushions. “What are you-” you started as Hoseok pushed the coffee table back before settling himself between your legs. He rested your thighs over his shoulders, hooked a thumb under your panties, pulling them to the side before starting an assault on your heat with his tongue.
The wet muscle made contact with your clit and you let out a low moan. Hoseok continued, teasing the sensitive bud with his tongue, alternating between light flicks and long licks. You involuntarily squeezed your thighs causing Hoseok to push them apart, giving him more access.
When his lips wrapped around your clit, you were done for. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as his tongue danced against your heat, bringing you closer to your release. You tried to keep still but you couldn't keep your hips from moving slightly. Hoseok noticed this and pulled back.
“Be a good girl and don't move,” he said before resuming. It took all your willpower to not move. Your body tensed under his touch and you wanted so much to find release. “Please,” you panted. Hoseok hummed, the vibrations against you making you cry out.
“Please, I want to come,” you whispered. Hoseok hummed again, pulling back. “How bad do you want to come, baby girl? Tell me,” he said, his fingers slowly circling your slit. “So bad,” you whimpered. Hoseok teased your entrance, dipping his fingers in slightly only to pull them back out. He was really enjoying the way he teased you to the brink of release, only to pull back again.
“Tell me how bad you want to come,” he said, the smirk on his face present in his voice. “Please Hoseok,” you whimpered. “Make me come. Make me come and I'm all yours.” Hoseok hummed in response, his fingers sliding into your walls. His tongue flattened against your clit before he sped up.
Your walls tightened as your orgasm approached. “Ah~! shit,” you moaned. “I'm so close.”
Before your climax washed over you, Hoseok stopped and withdrew. You whined in response. “What the hell, Hoseok,” you hissed looking up. He had removed his shirt and was unbuttoning his pants.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said reaching down to remove your panties. Whatever you had been expecting, it wasn’t this as he flexed and ripped your panties with ease. Your jaw dropped as he held up the mangled remains of your underwear, shrugged, giving you a sheepish smile before he threw them to the side with a nonchalant, ‘oops.”
“Lee Hoseok!!” you managed to squeak as he leaned in, hovering over you, his lips brushing against your neck. “I hope those weren’t expensive,” he breathed in your ear. You wanted to hit him. Those panties were in fact very expensive and came as a set with the bralette you were wearing under your sleep shirt. “As a matter of fact,” you said, your voice shaking as Hoseok tormented you with light kisses and nips along your neck. “They were part of a very expensive set,” you finished.
Hoseok let out a breathy chuckle before murmuring, “well, I guess I just have to give the other piece the same treatment,” he said as his hand slipped under your shirt. His fingertips danced their way up your torso before finding the same lace material of your bralette. “Let’s get this off,” he said taking the hem of your shirt in his hands and pulling it up over your head.
His eyes skimmed over every inch of your body, admiring it. “God,” he said in a growl as he leaned in, pressing small, wet kisses over the newly exposed skin. “I can’t believe this is what I’ve been missing out on,” he said trailing back up to meet your lips. His fingers slipped under your bralette, his hand cupping your breast. You moaned, arching your back into his touch. “Fucking hell, you sound so hot.”
You whined as he removed his hand before he repeated the same brash actions and ripped the lace of your bralette open, freeing your chest before discarding the destroyed garment. His lips were on your chest in a matter of seconds, his tongue slipping out to drag over the sensitive skin around your nipple. “Hoseok,” you breathed and he pulled back, eyes finding yours.
“What is it?” he asked. “Please,” you whispered. A smile spread over his face. “Please what?” he replied, cocking his head to the side again, playfully. “I need you,” you answered. “Need me where?” Hoseok replied flirtatiously. “Inside me, jesus fucking christ, Hoseok. Put your cock inside me,” you snapped and Hoseok let out a loud laugh before he stood up straight.
“As you wish,” he said as he finished unzipping his pants and let them fall to the floor, leaving him in his boxer briefs, exposing the toned muscles in his thighs. “Where do you keep the condoms?” he asked. You pointed to the bathroom. “In the top drawer on the left,” you said hastily. Hoseok disappeared and reappeared with the small foil packet.
“If I wasn’t so eager to fuck you, I’d make you choke on my dick but another time,” he said as he lifted the foil to his mouth to tear it open. Before he could, you sat up and pulled down his boxers, allowing his member to spring free. You wasted no time, ignoring his questions, as you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft and took him in your mouth.
Hoseok let out a strangled moan as you moved, working the tip with your tongue and the base with your hand. His hand tangled in your hair as you took him deeper in your mouth. “Holy shit,” he hissed. You pulled back and looked up at him. His hand left your hair, moving to caress your cheek.
“You’re fucking beautiful, you know?” he said softly. A light pink flushed your cheeks as you felt completely exposed. “I’m going to enjoy wrecking you,” he said before ripping open the condom and rolling it on.
“Turn around,” he ordered and you scrambled to do so, resting your forearms on the back of the sofa. You felt Hoseok’s hand run gently over your backside before you felt a quick smack to your bottom. A stinging ran over your skin and you inhaled sharply. “You like that?” Hoseok asked in a low voice, rubbing his hand over the spot he just hit before repeating the action a little harder.
A small whimper left your lips. “You really do like that, huh?” You cried out when his hand made contact with your ass again. “Goddamn,” he said as you whined, shaking your ass slightly, enticing him to fill.
“You really want this cock that bad?” he asked, brushing the tip of his length against your entrance. You moaned in response. “You have to say it,” he said, his free hand on your hip. You tried pushing back on him, eager for him to fill you. “No,” he said backing away. “You have to say that you want me,” he said. You peered over your shoulder at him.
He was watching you, waiting patiently. You almost moaned at the sight of his hand wrapped around his dick, slowly stroking himself. You were normally very stubborn but you just wanted to get off at this point. “I want your cock,” you said softly. Hoseok brought his free hand up to his ear.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” You groaned. “Goddamnit, Hoseok,” you hissed. “I want your fucking cock inside me right now!” Hoseok’s smirk spread and he positioned himself at your entrance.
“Say it again,” he said pushing ever so slightly, barely entering. You looked back at him as he waited for you to say the words he wanted to hear.
“I want you to bury your dick in my pussy and fuck me until I can’t walk,” you breathed.
Without any further encouragement, Hoseok pushed himself inside you slowly. The stretch felt amazing as it had been sometime since you were filled like this. Hoseok didn’t stop until he bottomed out, his length buried deep in your walls. You waited a moment as you adjusted before you nodded and breathlessly stated, “I’m ready.”
Hoseok pulled out a few inches before pushing back in slowly. You dropped your head to rest it on your arms. “God,” you moaned as he picked up the pace, driving into your wet heat. You could hear his erratic breathing as he thrust into you faster. “Fuck,” he said, gripping your hips as he pounded into you, hitting a spot deep inside. “You feel fucking fantastic.”
A moan left your lips in response, egging Hoseok on. You felt one of his hands slide up your back until it reached the base of your neck. His fingers intertwined in your hair before he pulled, jerking your head back. “Don’t keep it in,” he said as he fucked into you harder, a slew of curses leaving your mouth, mixed with high pitched moans. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
Your walls tightened around him as your climax approached. You didn’t want this to end. You wanted him to fuck you forever. “Ah~! Please,” you said in a whine. “Harder.” Hoseok tugged your hair again. “What? Harder?” he asked. You tried to nod but with his hand in your hair it was impossible so you moaned out a, “yes. Please fuck me harder.” Hoseok obliged, his hips hitting your ass and filling the room with the sound of skin against skin.
Your knees were starting to feel the effects of his thrusts and your legs started to shake. “Shit,” Hoseok said his hand leaving your hair and moving back to your hip as he gripped you harder. “Right there,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.” Hoseok chuckled, the sound ending in a moan.
“I’m close,” he said leaning over your back, his lips pressed against your shoulder.
This new angle let him hit you in all the right places, his cock brushing against your sweet spot. “Are you close?” he whispered in your ear. You shook your head. “Not yet,” you said. Hoseok reached around, his fingers finding your clit and massaging quickly. You cried out, clenching around him. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten as Hoseok hammered into you, surely leaving bruises where his hips made contact with your backside.
“That’s it, (Y/N),” he said as he felt you tighten around him, squeezing his cock just right. “Come for me. Come on my cock like a good girl.” His words sent heat straight to your core as it tightened, threatening to spring loose at any moment and wash over you. “I’m gonna-” you said before letting out a cry as Hoseok sank his teeth into your shoulder.
Your orgasm hit you hard, heat exploding inside sending warmth rushing throughout your body. Your grip on the couch hardened, your knuckles turning white as your toes curled in bliss. Pure, raw pleasure coursed through your veins as Hoseok continued to thrust, chasing his own release as he helped you ride out yours. With a deep, guttural moan, Hoseok came inside the condom. His hips slowed until they faltered and he stayed motionless, waiting for his breath and sanity to return.
Finally, he pulled out of you and sat on the couch next to you, pulling off the condom and tying the end. He turned to look at you, a fucked out expression on his face.
“You okay?” he asked, noticing you hadn’t moved. You nodded slowly as your breathing returned to normal. “I can’t move my legs just yet,” you admitted with a sheepish grin. Hoseok smirked up at you.
“Well, you did ask me to fuck you until you couldn’t walk,” he said smugly. You swatted at him lazily and he laughed standing up and reached down, lifting you gently off the sofa. “I guess I’ll just have to carry you to the shower,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom. “I don’t think I can stand either,” you said as he flipped the light on.
“A bath it is,” he said setting you on the toilet as he started running a bath. Once it was drawn up, Hoseok lifted you from the toilet and dipped you in the water before getting in himself, settling behind your back. The two of you were silent for a moment before he finally spoke.
“So,” he said as he trailed his fingers over your skin. “Do you still think they were faking it?” he asked in your ear. You softly elbowed him. “No. I don’t,” you admitted. Hoseok smiled against your shoulder. “But one more thing,” you said turning your head to look at him. He smiled at you. “What?” he asked.
“Don’t talk about other girls anymore. You don’t need them anymore,” you said before turning your head to look away. Hoseok pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Fair enough,” he replied. “I just need you.” The two of you sat in the hot water, a comfortable silence filled the air before you sat up and turned to face him. “I’m still not letting you off the hook. If you don’t keep the sound down, I’m not fucking you ever again.” Hoseok grimaced and nodded. “Deal.”
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siribear · 3 years
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whisper does wake up in the morning, unassailed by glory. deacon says she must be working out of another safe house. and so whisper lives another day. they scrub up as much as they can, change into cleaner clothes. deacon gets his favorite pair of jeans back.
‘good morning, you two.’ desdemona looks as if she slept little, but definitely slept. her eyes are brighter, clearer, and the cup of coffee next to her is still steaming.
‘des. carrington,’ deacon greets the two railroad officials, running a hand over his head. he’s foregone the wig today. no need for disguises around the people that know who he is. and so he scratches lightly at the ginger stubble that’s begun to grow in.
whisper toys with the end of her ponytail, combing out knots with her fingers. ‘so, what’s the plan, then?’
‘at least let us get breakfast first, partner.’
‘you’ve been spoiled, deacon. breakfast is in the coffee pot,’ desdemona says, lifting her own cup.
deacon is the only one not to indulge. desdemona and carrington fill their own mugs while whisper pours her first, and the doctor actually allows her to go first. coffee, an olive branch. once they’re ready, desdemona begins their briefing. ‘what information do you have on the brotherhood ship? i assume you two have scouted it out.’
‘it’s called the prydwen. and more than that, we’ve been aboard it,’ whisper says. all eyes turn to her. ‘i spoke with their elder, maxson. the squad that was stationed out of the police station was investigating a signal they attributed to the institute.’ she runs her finger along the rim of her cup, nails catching on the chips in the ceramic. ‘the minuteman general - ‘ it feels odd referring to herself in this way, but she has to make the distinction, now. lest carrington burn that olive branch. ‘ - offered a deal. information for information. and she just happens to know the location of a fallen brotherhood patrol.’
the holotape, distress pulser, and dogtags still sit somewhere at the bottom of her pack.
desdemona nods. carrington doesn’t look like he’s about to rip her head off again. small victories. ‘anything else to report?’
‘they’re obviously well-armed. they’ve got as many drones in power armor as we have railroad members, if not more. and that’s not even counting their foot soldiers.’ deacon shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘vertibirds, long range communication,’ he counts off. ‘we’re in trouble if we’re not careful. any more careful.’ he lets the warning hang in the air, for the other agents listening in.
‘tinker tom has already begun working on potential countermeasures. code name: red glare.’ whisper squints. as in rocket’s red glare? ‘we can’t let the prydwen stay here. or stay in the air,’ desdemona adds gravely.
‘perhaps they’ll leave once the institute is taken care of,’ whisper hopes out loud.
‘only if we ask nicely,’ deacon says with a shrug.
‘either way, the brotherhood is a threat we cannot ignore. whisper’s truce with them can get us what we need, but it doesn’t protect us if they turn their gaze elsewhere once the institute is gone.’
it’s a distinct possibility. and an unfortunate one. whisper has no wish to see paladin danse or scribe haylen or anyone else like them go up in flames.
‘on to the second matter. do you two remember a synth you helped reach ticonderoga?’
‘h2?’ whisper perks up. ‘yes, of course. is he okay?’
desdemona cracks a fleeting smile, gone as quick as cigarette smoke. ‘he’s fine, but dr. amari - ‘ carrington exhales audibly. so, still not happy about her knowing all of their contacts. desdemona ignores him, ‘ - is having problem moving him to the next checkpoint. malden center has been overrun by raiders. we have two options.’ she holds her hand out, two fingers extended. ‘one,’ she taps one finger, ‘malden center gets cleared for a final run, and we burn it immediately after. two,’ the first finger curls back as she taps the second finger, ‘we find a new route and h2-22 stays in goodneighbor until then.’
‘the longer he stays, the more danger he, our asset, and any future synths will be in.’ carrington frowns.
‘i agree. we have agents in the process of creating new routes with your new settlements,’ desdemona nods to whisper, ‘but it’ll take too long to co-ordinate for this run.’
‘so, we clear it, you burn it,’ whisper says simply. ‘there’s really no other choice. temporary danger versus compromising your asset in goodneighbor.’ she mimes weighing two items in her hands. ‘from what i understand, we need to go to goodneighbor anyway. we can let - dr. amari, was it? - know about the route directly, since it’s quicker than a dead drop.’ she looks to deacon, who shrugs.
‘a date at malden, then back for drinks in goodneighbor. sounds like a good time, to me.’
desdemona looks between them and rolls her eyes. ‘all right. as for any intel you get from kellogg’s brain - ‘
‘we’ll keep you informed via dead drop, boss lady.’
-
desdemona dismisses them after a few other matters. agents get assigned to shadow supply lines, opening them up to future synth railroads. whisper gives them names to look up, with a message from the general herself, just in case. drummer boy approaches her after the meeting and before she and deacon can depart, directing them to the furthest room, at the end of the catacombs.
‘PAM wants to speak with you.’
PAM’s room is a small office, less cluttered than the makeshift headquarters it’s attached to. rows upon rows of filing cabinets line the room, reminding her of nick’s office back at diamond city, but where nick had a plain desk, in the center of the floor is a single terminal. PAM, however, isn’t initially visible upon entering the room, and instead whisper is startled at the sudden sound of mechanical parts buzzing. the assaultron stands in the corner near the short set of stairs, mostly stationary aside from the upper torso shifting to follow her into the room. PAM’s claw-like appendages are raised at a 90 degree angle toward her, but still surprisingly unthreatening. much different from her encounter with the gunner assaultron.
‘drummer boy said you wanted to talk to me?’
the head pivots left, right, left. whisper, deacon, whisper. ‘engaging in human-robot interface,’ PAM’s feminine, robotic voice intones. ‘agent deacon and agent whisper. greetings.’
deacon doesn’t fully enter the room, just rests his hip against the railing with his arms crossed. it strikes her that deacon doesn’t care much for PAM. there’s no hint of amusement on his face, even behind the sunglasses. and whisper likes to think she’s gotten better at reading him.
‘go on, PAM.’
the assaultron isn’t offended at the curt greeting. ‘with the lost of augusta and the uncertainty regarding the safety of other safe houses, railroad alpha has determined there is a need for a new one. you have proven efficient in securing settlements. we would like you to establish a new safe house. designation: mercer.’
‘what?’
‘repeating message: with - ‘
‘no, i don’t - that’s not what i meant. i thought i wasn’t trusted enough. and now i’m given the responsibility of creating a whole new safe house?’
PAM is silent for a moment, mechanical parts whirring. ‘you have been given clearance.’ as if she’s a pre-war agent for the DIA. ‘a building named the coastal cottage has been deemed a suitable location.’
whisper checks her map after PAM uploads the location through the connector cable. the coastal cottage is a ruin of buildings, based on the old satellite picture, near salem. another checkpoint, much like outpost zimonja. ‘okay. it won’t be right away, but i’ll do it.’
‘please ensure mercer safe house is adequately supplied and defended. a caretaker will be sent once mercer has been established. thank you, agent whisper.’
-
topside, whisper waits until they’re halfway north to malden before confronting deacon. ‘you don’t like PAM, do you?’
she feels his shoulders shrug more than she sees them. ‘i don’t not like her,’ he says, the good humor in his voice painfully forced. ‘everyone counts on her to protect the railroad alone. the predictive analytic machine. that’s what PAM stands for. it’s what she did, pre-war, back at the switchboard. that’s where we found her. but she - ‘ he pauses, gathering his thoughts. ‘some time ago, an institute synth infiltrated one of our safe houses. PAM wasn’t the one that found the spy.’
‘but you were.’
‘someone did,’ he reiterates. he’s serious. no jokes, now. ‘PAM can keep us safe, but she can’t predict human nature. i suspect that’s why carrington lashed out last night.’
‘because carrington believes PAM.’ they follow malden river further north, past a large, abandoned boathouse. almost abandoned. whisper convinces deacon to detour briefly, and they exterminate the group of giant bloodbugs nesting within the building. ‘what does PAM really think of me?’
a dead body lies in the upstairs bathroom. on it, they find a note: a family hoping to sell a stash of chems hidden upriver to buy another brahmin. a story the minutemen will have to unravel later.
‘you’re an unknown quantity.’ the last two words he says in an approximation of a robotic voice, low and nasally. ‘no one expected your arrival at hq. not even me.’
and he was trailing her. ‘but you just said she can’t predict human nature.’
deacon hushes her quick and harshly. she pulls them behind the wall of the metro entrance. around the corner, there’s rustling. plastic tapping against pavement.
‘i know you’re there.’ the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. deacon goes stock still. synths. gen-2s, just like the switchboard. ‘ i heard you.’ the monotone voice grows closer. judging by the amount of footsteps, there’s more than one. ‘i will find you.’
whisper braces herself, pulling deliverer from its holster. deacon brings up his rifle, back against hers, as he faces the other side of the wall. whisper brings one hand low, fingers against deacon’s thigh. she counts: on three. one tap. two taps.
halfway to three, she hears it. they both hear it, deacon’s back straightens up against hers. the wind up, then plastic synth parts cascading past the wall along with a shower of bullets. someone with a fucking minigun.
whisper puts both hands on deliverer and swings around the corner once the bullets stop. the gun has to cool down, and now’s the perfect time. she feels the cold metal of the minigun against her stomach just as she puts the barrel of deliverer against its owner’s temple.
‘god damn. whisper?’
the agent in question lowers her gun with a relieved sigh. deacon peers around the corner, coming up at her side.
‘hey, glory,’ deacon says casually, as if she and whisper didn’t almost just tear each other apart. ‘what’s up.’
glory punches deacon in the shoulder, hard. he buckles, grinning. ‘hq send you?’ at whisper’s nod, ‘that’s what we get for keeping secrets. i got my orders from griswold.’
‘well, we’re all here. might as well make it a party, right?’ whisper tries to light hearted, now that the tension has drained. no other synths have shown, so they probably just ran into a rogue patrol. conveniently next to a railroad route.
glory grunts, lowering her minigun. ‘if at all possible, can we not kill any more synths? i only killed these because i thought i saw someone run behind the building.’
‘thanks for saving our lives instead of the gen-2′s, glorious.’
glory punches him again. ‘you know what i mean, dee. i just - i dunno. i feel bad. whatever. party, right?’
‘desdemona said there were just raiders, so hopefully we just got very unlucky.’ it sounds even less convincing when she says it out loud, and neither of her companions look hopeful. ‘come on.’
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Astara’s Tale Part One: The Iron Wind
“It looks like a dust storm might be coming”, Cara called up to Nex, who rode on top of the aneen ahead. The great beast swatted at the stinging flies around its face with its diminutive arms as it plodded onwards. Nex looked to the horizon, shielding the eye sockets of his mask from the midday glare.
He stared for a moment, the caravan lulling to a holt. He shot up suddenly, startling the aneen and the rest of the group following. “That's no Dust storm!”, he yelled jumping down from the creature. “That’s Iron wind!” 
He pointed to a small cave opening a short distance away, his voice loud and authoritative. “Get to shelter! Move!” 
Astara froze for only a second, her mind processing the danger that had sprung upon them. She turned and sprinted towards the hole in the rock face, her feet digging deep into the soft ground. The air around her became thick with drit and took on a coppery taste. The flavour in her mouth brought with it a memory from her past. A memory of burst lips and spitting blood. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to force the memory back when her foot hit a loose rock and her ankle gave way. She slammed into the ground with force, the air in her lungs knocked out of her violently. 
She lay on the ground for a second, dazed, the pain in her ankle shooting up her leg. It took a few moments before her mind kicked back into gear. 
I've got to move. Move or die. It's that simple.
She tried to scramble to her feet but the instant she put any weight on her ankle it gave way causing her to fall again and cry out in pain. She pulled herself across the ground, digging her nails into the earth and heaving herself towards shelter.
I'm not going to make it. The words screamed in her mind. I'm too slow. At this rate that storm is going to rip me to pieces. 
She twisted around and stared in horror as the large dark cloud on the horizon drew rapidly closer. 
Is this how I’m going to die? Here? Some dusty trail in the middle of nowhere? This wasn't how it was supposed to go. How could I die when I still had so much unfinished business? Maybe it was for the best. At least here I could see it coming, face it head on and be brave for once. 
She closed her eyes and prayed to any god or power watching.
Please don't let this hurt. Please let me die quick
She drew her hand up, the blade she kept sheathed to her wrist flicked out. If I’m going to die then it would be by my own hand.
She closed her eyes and took in a breath. She placed the cool edge of the knife to her throat but just before she could rake it across her flesh, arms tucked under hers, wrapping around her and dragging her to her feet.
She let out a startled gasp, the sudden stay of execution stunning her enough to allow herself to be hauled backwards. Dumbfounded she looked up into the pale mask of Nex as he rushed her toward the shelter. 
Once inside with the rest of the group, Nex let her drop against the cold stone walls. Spinning and reaching into his pocket, he threw out a small silver ball. It bounced across the ground before shimmering, a blue wall of light erupting from its center. It covered the entrance to the cave, sealing and protecting all those inside.
For a second they were still, quietly panting in the dim glow of the shield. The respite was short lived however, when a blood-curdling scream erupted from the other side of the blue light. All heads turned to see a silhouette still outside. Cara scrawled across the ground, desperately trying to crawl towards the cave fighting against the dark swarm that was slowly surrounding her. Her face was afire with pain and panic. 
The youngest of the group, Anya sprinted forward, moving to scoop up the silver ball but Nex caught her sharply, pulling her to face him. 
“We have to go save her!”, she screamed, trying desperately to pull her arm free from his gloved grip. “Nex please!”
“Anya”, he said softly, his voice low and gentle. “It's too late”. 
“No it's not! How can you say that? You can see her! You can hear her, for Calaval’s sake!” 
“Anya”.
“Nex, please! She my sister! She's all I have!” 
Nex’s grip did not lessen.
Cara’s screams were becoming more guttural, the pained cries slowly giving way to loud gurgled howls. 
Anya turned towards the barrier, her eyes wide and tormented. She pulled and clawed in vain against Nex who only pulled her closer, whispering soothing words as the young girl slowly crumpled to the ground. 
Astara looked away, closing her eyes to hold back the tears she was fighting. Each pathetic wail from Anya tore right through her chest despite her efforts to keep her distance from the group. Quietly, she moved away, using the wall to help her limp over to a large bolder before sitting down. Once settled, she stared at her companions, each of which just sat quietly on the ground staring at the dirt with harrowed eyes. 
It felt like a lifetime until Cara’s cries died away. the only sound left the rhythmic clicks of Vox’s mechanics and the muffled sobs that erupted from Anya every few minutes or so.
Deciding it was best to give her some space, Nex moved back, wrapping her in his long outer robe. Without speaking, he stood up and seemed to collect himself, running a hand over the dark blue fabric that wrapped around his head. After a second or two he straightened up and made his way over to where Astara sat. 
“Can you stand?”
Astara looked up at him. “Sorry?” 
“Your ankle. Can you stand on it?” There was something to his voice now, a soft strain. It was hard to tell but he seemed tired. Though after what they all had just gone through Astara guessed that was to be expected.
Astara bit her lip and tested her ankle out. Placing her foot on the floor, she tried to bare weight with it but sharp pain shot up the leg, causing her to wince. 
“I'm going to take that as a no”. Nex signed, kneeling down in front of her. He reached out slowly, taking her ankle into his gloved hand. “Can you move it?” 
She stretched out her foot and nodded. 
He slowly pressed the muscles around her joint, stopping occasionally when she hissed in pain.
“Hmmm. Well it's not broken”. He reached into a small satchel on his belt and pulled out a wad of bandages. “Probably just a nasty sprain. Try to rest it if you can and if any of my belongings survived this storm, I’ll see if I can put something on it later that might help relieve any pain”.  
He began to methodically bandage up her ankle and Astara couldn't help but notice how soft and gentle his touch was. She shook herself and took stock of what happened. 
He had saved her life. Her. a complete stranger to him yet he had saved her life, risking his own life in the process. How was she supposed to handle that? No one had ever done something so selfless for her before. Growing up it was very much a battle to even survive. If you wanted to see tomorrow then you looked out for yourself and no one else. 
Blushing, she turned away from Nex. Maybe he had an ulterior motive, keeping her in his debt until he can trade it in for his own gain. That was the style she was more accustomed to. “No one does anything out of the goodness of their hearts”  her father would say. “Everyone wants something at the end of the day” 
Did Nex have other intentions? If so she had no shins to give nor anything else of value. She had her body but she wasn't about to sell that again without good cause. Besides, he didn't seem the type so far to seek female company - or any company for that matter.  She was already obligated to work for him so that couldn't be the reason. 
She chewed on her lip as she thought.
She wanted to say something to him, to thank him for risking his life. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated it and how grateful she was to him, how much she would be in his debt. She wanted to say so many things but the words stuck to her teeth, refusing to budge off her tongue. Instead she looked away, a crimson glow working its way across her cheeks
“There”, Nex said, pulling the bandaging tightly. “That should at least get you back on your feet”. 
He got up in one fluid motion and Astara could feel the words ‘thank you’ form on her lips but by the time she was ready to push them out he was striding away, off to check up on the rest of them.
Well done, Astara. First kind act someone has shown you in years and you can't even manage to say thank you. Aren't you just going to be little miss popular. 
She dug her nails into her palm and cursed her own cowardice. 
She didn't need friends. Not with the path that lay in front of her. They would only get in the way or get hurt.
She looked back over at Nex who was trying to inspect Taran for wounds. 
These people had been hurt enough.
Hi!, Thank You for joining me on my first part in what i hope will be an on going story. please feel free to message me with any feedback or tip! 
Glossary
Drit - Sand, ground up synth, metals etc. that make up the majority of the ground
The Ninth World - The world. As it after after eight other incredibly advanced civilisations have risen and moved away, abandoned the planet or died out.
Synth - Synthetic materials, primarily plastics. Not created by ninth-worlders.
The Iron Wind - A cloud of nanites which randomly change or destroy anything that comes in contact with it
Navarene - The country you are in, the Northern-most kingdom of the Steadfast
The Steadfast - The ‘enlightened lands’. Nine kingdoms in a fragile alliance who mostly pay fealty to the Order of Truth. Think of it as a subcontinent.
The Order of Truth - A quasi-religious organisation obsessed with the Numenera, maintaining order and control
Numenera - Artifacts left behind or forgotten from previous civilisations
Aeon Priest - Members of The Order of Truth, who oversee things in many smaller communities.
Abhuman - Mutants and sub-races. They are all bad-natured, the distinguishing characteristic from ‘normal’ mutants.
The Truth - The primary language of The Steadfast. Taught by aeon priests.
Cypher - One-use pieces of the Numenera, ranging from pills to grenades, ray-emitters to teleporters.
Shins - coins, shiny baubles, dials, buttons etc. that are used as currency. Minted coins are less common, but some places use them exclusively.
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dailyarturia · 5 years
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Instead of just rating servants, what about a rating of the different Fate storylines?
oh now THIS I can do
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WHERE IT ALL BEGAN. often called the most boring route which, I guess yeah because it’s the first route of the first game so it ends up being exposition central. it has its moments and it’s not bad per se but it hasn’t aged that well and the rest of the series has caught up with it since it’s not the entry point for new fans anymore so like half the route’s content and plot twists end up being stuff that is already known from other installments. I still think it’d be nice if ufotable made an ova or something just to complete the set, and also because heaven’s feel actually mirrors fate route on a lot of points so I feel the hf movies aren’t going to be at their best if you haven’t gone over fate route beforehand. if you skip over the outdated exposition you can easily fit all of it in ~10 episodes cause it’s pretty short. 6.5/10 if looked at on its own, but its importance as the base on which later routes build can’t be underestimated 
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my personal favourite route even tho its heroine is the worst part of it. with fate route getting the exposition out of the way ubw can go at a faster pace and is more action oriented. the shirou-archer and related archer-lancer conflict is one of my favourites in all of fate and “here I come, king of heroes- do you have enough weapons in stock?” is ICONIC. rin got massively gimped as heroine cause nasu didn’t seem to dare actually letting her be flawed and shirou ended up too focused on his own conflict to form like a real bond with her but that’s a horse I beat to death long ago. the examination of what makes a hero is in general one of my fav themes in fate and ubw obviously delivers there but what I especially love in ubw is the theme of “don’t ‘welcome to the real world’ me asshole, the real world shouldn’t be like this”. 9/10 would be a 10 if rin had like, any character development
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this one is... so stressful to read, which is GOOD cause that’s the point but that also means my reread is going at a pace of 3 scenes per 4 months. heaven’s feel throws every convention that fate and ubw set up out the goddamn window by immediately killing off like half the cast including powerhouses like gilgamesh and turning an ideological conflict into a really viscerally personal one. the final conflict isn’t a hero versus a world ending calamity, it’s a bunch of traumatised kids with bad blood between them and the rest of the world caught in the crossfire. “the embodiment of all the world’s evils was a victim” is a really powerful statement to make and where fate and ubw only really asked “what makes a hero” hf hammers in the corresponding question of “what makes a villain”. 8.5/10 it’s an incredibly strong thematic ending to the game as a whole but it’s just, not my favourite
jesus christ look what you did, you got me started. here’s a readmore to save your dashboard and rip mobile users cause I got some opinions on fate alright
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this one fucking sucks if you look at it on its own it only works if you know fsn follows it otherwise its just DEATH DESPAIR PAIN SUFFERING yeah yeah we get it urobuchi. apparently he was going through a real bad depressive episode when he was asked to write zero and it was really cathartic to him to be able to write it as dark as he wants knowing that he can’t possibly ruin the happy ending of fsn so, I’ll give him that I guess. I thought it was the greatest shit when I first watched it cause uro’s really good at leveraging shock value but the flaws become more obvious with every rewatch. not really my favourite it’s mostly just asshole central and people who stan zero are usually insufferable but it’s got some good shit among the usual uro stuff. 7/10 PROVIDED you look at it in the context of fsn otherwise it’s like, a 5
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BIG favourite and origin of my wife for life bazett fraga mcremitz. I read this one at the exact right time in my life to be absolutely destroyed by it. the whole game is based on the premise of ‘a second chance’ so it goes out if its way to go into the characters who got kinda shafted in fsn while also being the canon ‘everyone lives’ au. fsn has always underlined how valuable an ordinary life is that’s why we call it family dinner simulator 2004 but fha really hammers that one in. less outright action than fsn but a really strong and tense atmosphere. 9/10 would be a 10 if it weren’t for the fucking caren scene
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basically revisits the themes from zero and stay night from a different angle but the cast is too large to really go into it so its clunky and a lot of characters end up sidelined. still it’s home to a lot of my favs and some of the coolest action in the whole series. I have a lot of apocrypha opinions but most of them boil down to who i want to hold hands with each other and how much I love sieg(fried) so I’ll spare you those. 7/10 thanks to shaky execution but if you take a shovel and make it that deep yourself it easily jumps up to 8 or even 9. don’t watch the anime I’m begging you.
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the storyline actually suffers a lot from how linear and rigid the game structure is so its main selling point is hakuno and their bond with each of the 3 playable servants but by god does it deliver there. hakuno is one of my favourite protagonists of all time and it’s all in how they’re not going to take this shit lying down. it’s a game about forging bonds in a system designed to drive people apart and holding stubborn hope for the future. 9.5/10 the half point is as much acknowledgement of the game’s flaws as I am willing to give because we have decided to stan forever
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lol what was that about linear structure? its like, super horny on main so it’s a hard sell but it basically turns everything I liked about extra up to 14. fate/extra CCC is a game about reaching out to others, how people are stronger together, how the future can be changed for the better as long as you are alive to see it, forming your own identity in the wake of trauma and learning who you are in relation to others as well as to your own past, healthy love and unhealthy love and recognising the difference between the two, and big fat anime titties. 10/10 i am not fucking kidding you if you can handle the horny CCC will be the best ride of your goddamn life.
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look. i don’t want to get started on extella so just take the ratings. 8/10 concept 4/10 execution.
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it’s incomprehensible garbage but it’s MY incomprehensible garbage 9/10 and 3/10 simultaneously
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now we got some real mixed feelings on this bad boy here so I’ll try to keep it short. basically all the chapters up to and including london were mediocre at best with septem as the absolute peak of garbage. they actually said in interviews that they didn’t make a shift towards heavier story content until between london and america so that makes sense but it painfully shows. america camelot babylon salomon then exponentially increased in quality and were the fucking bomb. epic of remnant was a massively mixed bag thanks to all the guest writers with minimal supervision to buy nasu time to write lostbelt. lostbelt is fun again. the main story nowadays is really good quality because nasu is just doing what he does best and writing incomprehensible lore with a story around it but because of the game’s nature as mobile game that wants to make everyone appealing somehow it misses a lot of the visceral emotion that fsn had. events are often too silly even if they do end on a serious note and there’s not enough actual serious story content to balance it out so everyone kinda suffers from character erosion and I’m not sure if there’s an easy way to fix that, cause sure you can say ‘make nasu supervise it more’ but nasu’s always writing like 5 different things at once and he can’t really Do That. I think ultimately fgo has been good for fate as a whole in the story department and I also think a different direction/feel from earlier stuff isn’t bad in itself but the scale at which fgo works does seem like it’s beyond what nasu and co really expected to ever have to handle and so while the amount of successes has increased, the amount of failures has also become more glaring. 5/10 on the first few chapters, 8/10 on the later half of arc one and onwards, ???/10 overall, oh fate how I wish I could quit you (i don’t wish that i’m having a good time)
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no
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theeldestbruner · 5 years
Text
Soul Script pt.2
Plance Fic, College AU, Soulmate AU
A/n
Thanks for coming back for another chapter! I hope you enjoy!
Word count: 2,319
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Katie stared at the solid wood door in front of her while dread settled into her heart. He was going to freak out, wasn’t he? He had no idea she was going to show up today, and she’d done everything in her power to make sure he’d never know she was coming, it was a complete and utter surprise...which only scared her even more. A sigh escaped her lips, and she stared at her shoes. The best bet was just to knock and get it over with, like ripping off a bandage. Right? She stood there a moment more with her suitcase sitting on the floor next to her, and taking one last deep breath she prepared herself to knock with a determined gleam in her eye. It took a few moments, but eventually she heard someone messing with the doorknob and with a click it swung open. Matt didn’t seem to notice it was her at first, so he just opened it casually like he was expecting company. Then she could see the surprise hit him in the face and he smiled, pulling her into a massive hug and spinning her around.
    “Oh my gosh! Katie! What are you doing here?” he pulled away and looked at his little sister. “I thought you were still back with mom and dad in Denver?”he was so excited he almost sounded like a little kid who just got a puppy. Matt’s hair had gotten longer since she’d last seen him, like he was going for a ‘messy but smart’ vibe. She smiled back at him.
    “I kinda did my best to make this a surprise,” she said.
    “Well, it certainly is! How long are you staying for?” Lower in the building, the main door opened and someone started climbing the stairs. Matt’s apartment was only 302, it wouldn’t take long for someone to start listening in on them.
    “Let’s talk inside Matt, I’m gonna need a minute to explain everything thoroughly,” she said. He shrugged, and scooted over to make room for her to get through the door. She hurried in and sat down on his old brown leather couch, Matt closed the door right as the footsteps on the stairs could be heard passing by. He jumped over the back of the couch and flopped down on the other side from her.
    “So what brings you all the way out to lil’ ol’ Portland Pidge?” he asked.
    “I told you to stop calling me that, it doesn’t even make any sense,” she huffed, “mom and dad are going to sell the house since I was moving out soon anyway. But, I’ve been having a hard time finding an apartment, it’s been ridiculous trying to juggle it with classes and tutoring.” She looked over to make sure he was still listening, and Matt nodded and waved for her to keep talking. “So now it’s come to the point where their real estate agent is going to close on a smaller house on the North side of town and sell the old one while they disappear on a cruise for nearly a year. Soooo now I’m here! Surprise!” They sat in silence while Matt looked at the floor in thought, then scratched his jaw and looked back up at her. His smile was so sympathetic, it almost hurt.
    “You’ve had a rough couple months, huh Pidgie?” He stood like a rocket taking off into orbit, then grabbed her suitcase. A sunny smile across his face, it was so bright and cheery Katie almost had to block the light with her hand to keep from going blind. “Well, seems like you’re gonna be here for a while then! Let me give you the grand tour!” She got up as well and analyzed his expression, he really was just happy to have her here.
    “Thank you Matt, I promise that I’ll get a job as soon as possible and help with the rent. I’m not just going to be some freeloader.”
    “That’s sweet of you, but as you can see my job as a lab assistant makes my life in this little place quite comfortable,” Matt looked at the tiny kingdom he’d built for himself from the bottom up and grinned, “I want you to focus on your school work more than anything else. Come on, I wanna show you your room.” She nodded and followed him down a hallway, at first there was a bathroom on the left and then at the end was a fork that led to two different rooms. Matt walked into the room on the left. It was small, but just to the left of the door a full size mattress sat on the floor, and an armoire was tucked into the far corner with an open window next to it. There was a closed closet on the other side of the bed. That was it. She couldn’t really ask for more than that, she had just shown up totally out of nowhere.
    “Thanks Matt, I’m gonna get this stuff put away for now. There’s more in the car outside but I just really wanna relax.” He set the suitcase down and nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder.
    “That sounds good to me. I’m gonna go take a quick shower, once you’re done the place is free roam. I’ve got like a thousand snacks and some leftover chinese in the fridge, the TV has netflix, hulu, and showtime so you can pretty much watch anything.”
    “Wow, you’re pretty stacked on shows aren’t you?” she said with a raised eyebrow.
    “It’s the only way to get all the classics, you know. I can’t go a whole month without Leatherheads or Definitely Maybe, but they’re spread out. This way I can make sure I always get at least one of the movies I love.” Matt waved his hand and started to walk out the door. “Now stop making fun of me and make a room for yourself. There’s some sheets and a mink in the bottom drawer of the armoire. Sorry if they smell funny at all, I picked the mattress up with them for like 100 dollars from someone a few floors above me when his girlfriend left.”
    “Okay, thanks again Matt,” she said with a smile.
    “No problem Pidge,” he said, walking out of the room.
    “Stop calling me that!” Katie could hear him laugh in the hallway and then the bathroom door closed. She took a deep breath and decided to take a look out of the window, kind of take stock of her environment. It was missing a screen, but that was because it led out onto a fire escape with steps leading up and down the building. “Well, it must be a decently nice area if nobody broke in with the window like this.” With a shrug she dipped her head back in the room and began unpacking her bag. Hanging shirts, folding pants and pjs, making the bed using hideous mink with a picture of a pug on it from the close, laying a small alarm clock next to the bed, and finally pulling out a small green stuffed lion she’d gotten as a present from her dad as a kid, setting it down on the bed as though it were a priceless heirloom. Her eyes wandered over the room and tried to evaluate what else she might be able to do with it later, the bed being on the floor didn’t bother her so it would stay, but she would need to get a desk to work at. Katie’s left hand came up and started rubbing a spot right above her right collarbone. It was her soulmark.
    The day she turned fifteen had been extremely confusing, mainly because she’d been almost certain that her love for science and technology would keep her from ever leading a healthy relationship. Katie spent so much time on herself, she’d never considered that one day she’d have to spend some of that time on another person. Why should she receive a soulmark? It made sense for Matt, he was a big sap at heart. But when the feeling of a cool ocean breeze swept past her neck, and she’d looked down to see the script glowing to life on her skin in a deep blue she’d been a little annoyed. Permanently engraved on her skin, where everyone could see, was “Oops...My Bad.”
    Whoever her soulmate was supposed to be was sure to either be a clueless idiot or a clutz. For a long time she’d made it up in her mind that she would definitely tell them off for wasting such a profound moment on words like that. However, over time she’d come to find it almost endearing, in an annoying, irritating, and maddening way. Sure, they might be an idiot, but dammit if they weren’t going to be her idiot. Whenever her soulmark would light up and she noticed Katie would immediately place her hand over it. Sometimes it glowed for hours, and others it was just a quick flash. But all of them were reassuring and let her know that someone, somewhere, had her back. She’d needed that desperately when she’d said goodbye to her parents yesterday morning as they left for the cruise. But now she was here, living with her brother once again.
    There wasn’t a community college or university she’d ever been particularly drawn to attending, so instead she’d opted for online classes and was working towards a doctorate in Botany through them. It made it easier to move because this way she hadn’t had to worry about transferring to another college when she moved. Satisfied that she’d done all she could with the room for now Katie walked back towards the kitchen and living room, thinking that Matt’s leftover chinese sounded pretty good after the long drive. It was lemon chicken, a family favorite, and she practically sprinted to put it in the microwave once she realized. She could hear someone with very heavy feet in the apartment above this one walk over to a spot right above her.
    “No place is perfect I guess, I should just be grateful that the ceiling looks sturdy enough to hold up with people walking all over it.” While Katie was standing there and staring off into space, she absent-mindedly reached up and started rubbing her soulmark again. It felt warm, which she supposed made sense considering that the neck was on of the warmest parts of the body, but for a moment she entertained the thought that there might be another reason behind it. With a ding she pulled the styrofoam box out of the microwave and walked over to the couch, plopping down and reaching for the remote. She was in the mood for a good, old-fashioned rom-com. It had been ages since the last time Katie had last watched one, and the silly hopefulness matched her current mood perfectly. Netflix had exactly what she was looking for, What If was one of her movies. But she wasn’t even five minutes into it when she could hear someone running above her like a maniac and yelling, then there was a quiet thud and she became increasingly curious.
    “D-did somebody just get murdered? Did I just hear someone get killed?” Katie wasn’t even scared, she was more curious than anything else really. She waited, the movie paused and her ears perked up. Depending on how you viewed the situation, she was either very lucky or very unlucky that she didn’t have to wait long to hear something else. Except this time it was down the hallway, right in front of the bathroom. There was the sound of something cracking and then several loud thuds followed by a larger one, she reached for the first thing she could protect herself with and creeped down the hall. The bathroom door was blocked from opening by chunks of concrete, dust was flying everywhere, and sitting sprawled out on top of all the rubble was a boy. On the other side of the bathroom door, she could hear Matt pounding on it and trying to break it down, though she couldn’t understand what he was yelling
    She looked down at the boy that fell through the ceiling, he had cinnamon brown hair, chocolate skin, and navy blue eyes that popped out in contrast. His arms and legs were long and lanky, but look like they had a decent amount of muscle. He wore a gray baseball shirt with blue sleeves, jeans, and a pair of black converse. His hand reached up and began rubbing the back of his head, he’d probably hit it pretty hard during the fall?
    “Lance! Are you okay? Hang on buddy, I’ll be right down, just stay right there and don’t move!” Katie looked up and through the new hole in the ceiling she could see a larger person with an orange headband duck away before she heard a door open and close. What Katie hadn’t realized during all of this was that her soulmark was practically radiating like the sun, as did the boy’s in front of her. Blue and green light shined up and mixed into teal. She finally noticed the glowing words on his neck, and her heart leaped into her throat, oh no way. No way this was how they meet, right? Just then he lifted his head and looked at her, then at the mess of dust and concrete around him with his eyes growing wider by the second, and then back at her.
    “Oops...My bad,” he said. Katie just got angry at that point. She knew he was going to waste the first words on something stupid, but come on! That just blew every other stupid thing she’d ever heard out of the water.
    “What the fuck is WRONG with you?!” she yelled.
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lykegenia · 5 years
Text
The Things We Hide Ch. 28
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Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here
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The cove where Appa landed a day later glittered under the setting sun, sugar-fine grains of sand cast the colour of molten copper as the last of the light bled from the sky. Like it was a melon rind, the water ate at the sweeping curve of the beach, biting it back further and further towards a line of thick, luscious jungle. Foliage rippled in the evening breeze, while bright flashes of colour dipped between gaps in the canopy as birds flew home to their roosts. It was the building complex overlooking the beach that drew everyone’s attention, however, a sprawling wooden construction of grand pillars and verandas under steeply sloped gables of yellow-glazed tiles.
“How did you know about this place?” Zuko asked as Sokka slithered to the ground beside him.
“Grand Master Iroh gave us directions,” came the reply. “He said it would be the best place to hide out until we meet our contact. Looks like he was right – all that storm damage is at least a year old. Nobody’s been here in a while.”
“Not for years,” Zuko muttered, still staring, though the words went unheeded as the others groaned and stretched out their cramped muscles. “There should be enough space for Appa in the main courtyard.”
“How do you know?” Aang checked.
The fire prince scowled. “This is the royal family’s dry season retreat. The weather’s milder than in the Caldera.”
“We’re staying in the Fire Lord’s house?” Sokka let loose a whoop of laughter. “Imagine the look on his face if he found out!”
“We should hope he doesn’t,” Katara retorted. “And we should get Appa off the beach before he gets spotted by a patrol.”
Aang nodded. “Good point. Come on buddy, just one more short hop and you can have a nice rest – see you guys up there!”
The sky bison grumbled as his master leapt back into position by the reins, hauling himself to his feet. At the avatar’s bright command, he struck off from the ground and veered towards the mansion, though he barely went high enough for his toes to clear the trees. It left the rest of them with a short walk up the slope, while overhead, the first stars glittered in a violet sky. Zuko led the way, both because the path was at least a little familiar to his memory, and because his firebending proved the perfect tool to light the path and sear away the overgrown jungle. He was grateful for the tired silence behind him. When they reached the gate, and the pair of stone lion-turtles that guarded it, he felt eyes on the back of his head, but he pushed on into the compound with his shoulders squared.
Aang greeted them with his usual enthusiasm, waving them over to where he was already unpacking their bags. “And look at this cool flower I found,” he added to Katara as she approached. “I think they’re nightbells – the petals only open after the sun goes down.”
“Thanks, Aang,” she replied. “I remember these. They grew in my garden in the capital, under the mangingko.” She plucked the bloom from his open palm, answering his smile with a smaller one as she recalled the long, hot days by her pond, minding lessons and reading the poetry Ursa had gifted her.
“You shouldn’t pay so much attention to him,” said a voice at her side.  
She narrowed her eyes at Zuko. “What’s it to you?”
“He’s not serious about it, he’s just flirting for the fun of it.”
“I know.” She blinked. “But it’s still none of your business.”
“I just – fine. Have it your way,” he snapped, and stalked away to follow Toph into the house.
While they waited for Iroh’s contact to meet them, they trained. They had to be careful, in case a passing fire navy patrol caught sight of activity in the supposedly empty house, but the walls were high and the jungle thick enough to mask all but the showiest bending forms. Zuko refused to teach Aang, but grumpily accepted the avatar’s presence while he practiced his own forms after Katara pointed out it would take less energy than continually chasing him away. In between these practices, they prepared for their journey to the Caldera, poring over maps and plans and schedules for hours at a time, working out rest points where they could hide Appa during the day. If worst came to worst, they could submerge again to avoid the central patrols, but Appa’s dislike of being underwater, coupled with the toll it took on Katara, meant it would be a last resort.
“We’ll need more supplies if it’s going to take us that long,” she pointed out on the fourth day as they gathered in the courtyard. “Someone’s bound to notice us if we keep stopping of at every town market we run across.”
Her brother scoffed. “Who says we need to go into towns at all – master hunter here, remember?”
“We would have to if we wanted to avoid the city guards chasing after us for poaching,” Zuko replied. “You need a permit to hunt.”
“You aren’t serious?”
“These are islands, with delicately balanced ecosystems,” he explained, drawing himself up into full regal bearing. “If everyone took what they wanted, populations wouldn’t be sustainable and people would starve.”
“It would make more sense to get supplies now anyway,” Suki interrupted, to forestall Sokka’s response. “We don’t know what delays we’ll run into out there.”
Sokka shot her a soppy look. “Have I mentioned how smart you are today? Alright, new plan. Katara, you know what we need – take Toph and Zuko to the village and stock up. We should have enough money to cover it. Aang, you should probably stay here in case someone recognises you, so you, me, and Suki will –”
“Aw can’t I go?” The avatar’s eyes widened like a moose-lion cub’s. “I haven’t seen the Fire Nation in a hundred years, I want to see what’s changed!”
“There’s a bounty on your head, for one thing,” Toph grunted.
“What if I covered my arrow?”  He pressed a hand over his forehead and grinned. “No one would recognise me! Besides, since I’m the oldest I’m technically in charge. I wouldn’t want to leave you all unsupervised,” he added with a sage nod of his head.
“You’ll just sneak out if I say no, won’t you?”
“Probably.”
Sokka groaned. “Fine. You go with the others, and me and Suki will repack what we do have.”
Toph smirked. “Suuuure that’s what you’ll be doing.”  
Sokka ignored her. “It can’t be worse than having the prince of the whole nation prancing down the street.”
“I don’t prance,” Zuko grumbled. “And they probably wouldn’t recognise me either.” His fingers twitched in his lap, resisting the impulse to touch the left side of his face.
“Well yeah,” Katara supplied next to him. “Last time you went among the people you had half a battalion of royal guards with you.” Her smirk jolted him from the dark spiral of his thoughts, back into the memory of that outing to the market, where she had charmed all the stallholders and offered mercy to the veteran who had tried to strike her. He might have replied to her teasing, but he was too aware of all the curious eyes on them, the silence that had fallen around the circle.
“When do we leave?” he asked instead.
The market was held under brightly coloured awnings in a paved square at the centre of the village, and spilled out along the streets leading down to dozens of rickety piers where the fishermen tied their boats. At one end, fruit sellers vied with florists for the attention of the crowd, calling and offering samples to show the beautiful ripeness of their wares, while the butchers and fishmongers stood at the other, downwind, swishing ostrich-horse-tail flails to keep flies off their produce. In between were clothiers, bean sellers, leatherworkers, smiths, carpenters, sweet merchants, and cooks selling hot snacks, all with vibrant displays designed to catch the eye.
“This place is great!” Toph announced as the strolled up the main street. “My feet are can see so much stuff – and what’s that smell?”
“Sun cakes,” Katara and Zuko replied in unison, then quickly glanced away from each other.
“What was that about? Your guys’ heartbeats just shot waaaay up.”
Katara cleared her throat. “I was expecting something a bit more rural.”
“Ember Island caters to a lot of the Fire Nation nobility trying to get away from the formality of court.” Zuko shrugged. “They like playing at being commoners, so a lot of them do their own shopping.”
“And get totally ripped off, I bet,” Toph snorted.
“Probably. My mother used to bring us here when we were kids.”
“Are you sure you won’t be recognised?” Katara asked, peering around them. The knot of tension in her shoulders eased as she noticed how many foreigners dotted about the place. It would be easier for them to blend in, even if Zuko’s pale skin would mark him instantly as someone of high rank.
“It’s too early in the season for anyone important to be here,” he answered, but nevertheless drew the hood he was wearing lower over his face.
“We should split up,” Aang suggested brightly, most of his attention already on the sweet sellers. “That way we’ll be done twice as fast, right?”
“Well...”
Toph grabbed onto his arm with far more enthusiasm than she had shown for anything so far. “I’m with Twinkle Toes! No offence to you, Sugar Queen, but he’s way more fun.”
Katara rolled her eyes, aware that agreeing would mean she was left alone with Zuko. It was going to be so... stilted.
“Fine,” she sighed, and tore their shopping list in half to hand to them with a fistful of coins. “You’re in charge of the medical supplies. Just don’t draw attention to yourselves. You need to get everything on here, and I swear if you spend it all on sweets instead, when you get sick I’m going to stand there and say I told you so instead of healing you.”
“Ugh. Yes, Mom.”
There was a beat of silence as the pair raced away, looking thankfully like an ordinary boy and his kid sister in their borrowed Fire Nation clothing, and the bandana that covered Aang’s head. The rest of the shoppers barely spared them a glance, but Katara’s nerves were still too high to really appreciate it.
“What?” she snapped at Zuko.
He turned away quickly. “Nothing. We should get going.”
They started with the dried food, beans and rice and jerky that they could pack lightly and would last for weeks. For Aang, they also bought jars of marinated tofu, and dried honey-lotus roots to go along with the long-lasting vegetables that would form the bulk of their meals. It meant they were burdened down very quickly, but Katara found it worth the ache in her arms to watch Zuko trying to look like he knew how to handle money.
Even so, there was a tension to their interaction as they both skirted difficult topics, and she was glad to set it down with the shopping when they stepped into the shade of a noodle shop for lunch. She had missed the vibrancy of the Fire Nation, the spices in the air and the liveliness of the people, and even the way the midday heat was stripped of its wrath by the calming sea wind. She smiled at the server as she ordered from a board of illustrated dishes, then followed Zuko back to their table to wait off her feet. Without the shared distraction of their task, silence settled awkwardly around them again.
“We’ve got most of what we came for,” she tried. “We should go and find the others and get back to the house.”
“Right.”
“The food smells good.”
“It usually is.”
“You’ve eaten here before?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Not for years.”
“Right.”
She picked at a loose thread in her tunic, and his gaze slid past her to a poster fixed to the opposite wall. It was a relief when the elderly server called their order and brought over two steaming bowls of soup, with a smile and a wish for them to enjoy their meal. Before she could leave, however, Zuko caught her attention and pointed to the poster, where ‘Suntide Circus’ was proclaimed in gold above illustrations of lion dogs, dancing poodle-ponies, and at the forefront a pair of shadowed figures back to back against a crowd of unseen enemies.
“What happened to the Ember Island Players?” he asked.
The server glanced at the poster. “Oh, they’re still around, just taking a break before the season starts. Those guys pulled into town yesterday, but they’ll move on soon enough.” She peered at Zuko suspiciously. “You sound like you’re from the capital – you’re a bit early.”
“My family are merchants,” he replied, though his smooth tone was betrayed by a wash of crimson rising up his face. “We travel all over.”
“Shame about that burn, for a merchant,” the old woman continued with a nod, and turned to Katara. “I bet he was pretty as paint before, eh? Bet he could charm all the young ladies out of their coin.”
It was Katara’s turn to flush. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you don’t, girlie. You know, I heard that exiled prince had a pretty big scar on his face – you could do impressions if business goes south. Ha!”
“I heard Prince Zuko’s scar was on the other side,” Katara answered with a frown. “Thank you for the food – it looks delicious.”
Still chuckling to herself, the server winked at the dismissal and set two pairs of chopsticks on the rickety table before shuffling off to greet a new customer, a local man by the look of him, who had a small horde of children following him in through the door. She left a sharp silence in her wake, and Zuko didn’t look up as he reached for his chopsticks to mix the soup and noodles in with the condiments.
“Hey...” Katara ventured after a tense moment. “You shouldn’t pay too much attention to what she said – about your scar, and about...”
“We should just eat and find the others,” he interrupted. “It was a bad idea for me to come here.”
She bit her lip to keep from voicing aloud the words that rang in her head, knowing they wouldn’t be appreciated. She had enjoyed the time they spent together that morning, had appreciated his tacit offer to carry the supplies, and the way they worked together to find the best produce. It was the most normal she had felt since before the comet, and certainly the most relaxed. And yet, it was too close to that other day they had spent together, wandering the markets of the Caldera, their rapport overformal but growing fonder, until it had ended with him giving back her father’s hunting pouch. Was that the same person sitting before her? Sokka had told her to keep an eye on the exiled prince, to make sure he stayed away from any guards or ‘sneaky-looking jerkbenders’ in case he tried to sound the alarm and betray them, and she hated that part of her agreed with the precaution. She had kept parts of herself hidden through the whole of her incarceration in the Fire Nation, intending to betray him all along – it was too easy to imagine he might share similar motives now.  
She sighed, stirred her chopsticks around her bowl, and looked up again, words poised ready to try for conversation again – but a loud squeal echoed through the small room, and she looked around to see a small, lithe girl around her own age in the doorway. The stranger was wringing her hands, hopping between her toes with so much energy her long braid flickered behind her like a whip. And she was looking straight at them.
Katara started to rise. Her hand twitched, already calling for the water in the soup bowls, her thoughts racing ahead to the best way to get Zuko out of the room without revealing his identity – they would have to find Aang and Toph on the way, hope Sokka and Suki had done at least some packing while they were in the market, hope that they could escape on Appa before the mob had a chance to reach the house. It all flashed through her mind’s eye in an instant, but in the next, Zuko had risen with her, and instead of alarm, his voice registered shock and even a thread of happiness. It stopped her in mid-stance.
“Ty Lee?”
The girl squealed again and darted forward to wrap the astounded prince in a rib-bruising hug. “You remembered me!” she cried as she let him go. “And here I was going to come looking for you this afternoon. You saved me a trip out to that crusty old house, you know.”
Katara cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who exactly are you?”
“Katara, this is Ty Lee,” Zuko said hurriedly. “An old friend. But – what do you mean you were looking for me?”
“Didn’t you know?” Ty Lee beamed. “I’m the contact – well, Shuren is – he’s the ringmaster. Your uncle sent us to fetch you. For the circus?”
“The circus?” he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. He passed a helpless glance to Katara, who still had yet to completely lose her mistrust of the newcomer and only frowned back.
“Of course the circus! We’re on tour, and we’re heading to the capital – it’s pretty convenient, right?” Ty Lee paused and blinked, as if noticing for the first time that the three of them were alone. “Where’s the rest of your group? Are they back at the house?” Her eyes shot wide and she cupped her hands over her mouth. “Have I interrupted a date?”
“What?”
“No!” Katara turned away from Zuko, hoping the heat in her cheeks didn’t match the mortification rising to the tips of his ears. She searched for the glacial calm Hama had taught her, but it remained elusive. “We are not on a date. We were buying supplies for – wait, you know what? Let’s go outside.”  
A crowd was beginning to form, attracted by the commotion, and the elderly server had paused taking the young family’s order to once again peer at them with more interest than was helpful. She left her bowl of mostly untouched noodles, ignoring the sullen grumble of her stomach as she tugged on Zuko’s sleeve and herded the newcomer ahead of her. Ty Lee glanced between them as they stepped out into the sunlight, but followed obediently as they padded back among the throng to search for Toph and Aang.
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talenlee · 5 years
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MTG: It's Not Gacha
I try not to shoot from the hip on matters like these.
I try not, generally speaking, to do long-form articles about important topics where the subject matter is high impact and there are well-intentioned people who look uninformed to me. It's a sure-fire way of wading into a complex situation where I contribute no actual value, just noise.
Plus, this is the intersection of Magic: the Gathering, game development, and human incentive systems, which I'm sorry to say I'm rapidly doing things that make me kind of expert on, even if I shy from being considered an expert. There's a whole gulf of information between where I sit and where a lot of other voices on the matter sit, which can make me feel like I'm either talking over them (because they don't know what they're talking about, and don't realise that) or that I'm getting into an extremely contentious fight (because they know what they're talking about, and are presenting falsehoods and do not care).
Still, it's April, it's my month, you're here on my blog so sit down, shut up, and learn why every time people compare Gacha to Magic: the Gathering I roll my eyes so hard it makes my skull ache.
Differences of Scale
In any given Magic: The Gathering set in a modern printing, there are about sixty rares, and twenty-three mythic rares. Mythic rares happen about once every eight packs. So, if you want one mythic rare, and you want to pop boosters for it for a chance to get it, you hypothetically need to pop 184 boosters to have a 'statistical chance' to get the mythic rare you want, or about a .5% chance to get that mythic rare.
Now, again, let's set aside just how bad an idea this is. Let's just say this is how you're going to do it. Pop boosters until you get the card and you get a .5% chance, give or take some rounding.
Gacha games obviously vary, and those games use a host of variable systems to make your chances more or less reliable, so it's hard to say what those chances are on average for their rarest stuff, but some games - some very popular and very well liked Gacha games, Gacha games I've seen my friends playing have rates for their rarest pulls during fortnight-long events at .007%.
Not 7%. Not .7%. .007%.
Magic: The Gathering's rarest game objects by the worst method of obtaining them can be hundreds of times easier to get. And these Gachas offer paid boosters at roughly the same prices as Magic boosters too!
Which honestly doesn't matter, because Gacha games and Magic purchases aren't comparable in this way because of...
Differences of Ownership
Magic Cards are physical objects. When you pop a booster, you don't get a bunch of digital stuff on a drive, you get actual physical devices, objects that are exchangeable, and tradable. You might find that other people want what's from your boosters, and that stuff is yours to trade away. You can even sell it for money. Is it worthless? It's probably not worth a lot, because value concentrates around the best cards in any given set, but the point is this stuff is yours and you can make choices about that.
In Gacha games, by default, there's no trading mechanism, and why should there be? There's no reason for you to be able to play swapsies with these digital items. Heck, from the perspective of the company doing it, trades are probably really annoying to implement.
Since the cards are a physical object, and unregulated, you can trade them with other people, and there are even stores that exist, and those stores have a reason to want to maintain a stable business, so you can take your cards to them, and sell them to them and they'll get you involved in the business of trading and playing the game. They get more money over time if you keep coming to them, so their motivation to rip you off isn't exactly strong.
And these stores will sell you specific cards you want.
Let's use that idea of you gunning for a specific Mythic Rare by popping boosters. Let's use the most expensive mythic from Guilds of Ravnica as an example, Arclight Phoenix.
As of the time I write this, Arclight Phoenix is $30 on Starcity Games, and it is out of stock at that price. The demand for this sucker is pretty high and the card is pretty good. Don't worry about why, it doesn't matter. The point is, you can have this card for the price of 5 boosters, which beats the snot out of buying 184 boosters to hope and crack it (at a rate of around $1,104).
Now, yes, that is pretty pricey, and we'll get to that later, but the point is, this card is good but expensive and in an external market, there's a way to get it that costs you way less. Gacha doesn't typically have a secondary market (though we'll get to Artifact later).
Do I recommend you go out and buy a playset of Arclight Phoenixes? No, not really. This is not a card you should be buying as your first point of investment in Magic: The Gathering and there's no urgent need for you to have it right now unless you have some really weird priorities. The 'default way' of playing Magic: the Gathering isn't going to ask you to have an Arclight Phoenix.
There are other, even more expensive cards out there, and we'll get to that later.
For now, though, the introduction of this secondary market is important, because of...
Differences In Distribution
Know who makes money off Gacha purchases? The company that runs the game. They spend some of that money on running servers (which are often in-house), they spend some of that money on developing new services for their game, and they spend some of that money on promotion and advertising and all that stuff, but the root purchase goes straight to the company, and that company then decides how they spend it.
Know who makes the most money off a Magic: The Gathering booster? Well, based on current industry metrics, the people who drive the trucks transporting those boosters around. Around 50% of board and card game purchases are made up of transport and distribution costs. Some of the booster sales go to the store where you bought them, and they purchased the boosters off Wizards, but between Wizards and the game stores, there's the distributors, who pay a large percentage of their costs in getting the objects around the world.
I swear with corporate diagrams like this I'm surprised I'm defending these people
Now, Wizards still make a profit on Magic: the Gathering, because lots of people buy boosters, and supplemental products. But the people getting paid for Magic: the Gathering includes a host of people who aren't Wizards. Boosters go up and down based on the cost of paper, disposal methods, localisation teams, and a lot of what's going on involves a number of intermediary businesses, and changes in those businesses has impacts on Wizards.
Now, this isn't to say that Wizards have a more moral position than anyone else, but it changes the relationship between Wizards on the profit-per-sale and the demands on what a booster is worth. Because if a Gacha game sets a price for a booster, that's how much they get. That means from their perspective, they get a lot more profit per-booster, and therefore, they have a very direct reason to want you to buy lots of boosters. Wizards want you to buy a lot of boosters too, and ideally, they'd like you to buy more. But if you buy twenty boosters trying for one card, you're not paying them twenty booster's worth of money. You're paying that to your local store, to transport, and distributors, and printers.
And that secondary market? The explosive rares like Arclight Phoenix? That's not valuable from Wizards' perspective, not really.
See, the secondary market is typically driven by a few forces. One is a few chase formats like Vintage and Commander where players will often spend a disproportionate amount on cards that seem weird to everyone else, but which largely don't matter, and don't drive play or attendance. One of them is casual appeal (and we'll get to that). Then there's tournament success, where players will buy cards to build constructed decks that are likely to win in constructed formats.
But remember, Wizards make money on the boosters. They don't make money on the sale of the Arclight Phoenixes that have already been popped. Those sales go to a secondary seller. If a card becomes too valuable, what happens is, stores start popping boxes of product in large volumes to get the chase card, and sell that chase card at the highest rate they can.
Booster boxes have fixed value from Wizards' perspective; they sell them for (about) $100, and retailers pay less for them, for about 36 boosters. That means that any given mythic should show up once every six boxes... which means if a card becomes worth (say) $100 on its own, card stores are better off opening boxes and selling all the singles in them. This puts a ceiling on the possible prices of a mythic rare, and that means the rest of the cards in that box wind up being 'free.'
We've seen this happen, by the way. Wizards deliberately started putting in chase cards in a few sets to push down the prices of other rares and it resulted in some very good, reliable cards selling very cheaply and that made the formats they were good in very accessable. It was a cool thing.
But again: Wizards don't control the secondary market. They don't run these stores. They don't profit off them, they profit off the sales of boosters. From their perspective, what changes the amount of money they make is not single overpowered cards, but lots of people playing the game a lot. They want you to engage with the secondary market by coming to the store more and playing more, not so they can scoop up some kind of kickback for buying Arclight Phoenixes, but because you playing the game makes it more likely other people will play the game with you, and you'll all buy boosters, because boosters are fun and cool.
By the way, this is why I side-eye Artifact. Because the people who make that game have that game's secondary market, which gives them an incentive to make people turn over their collections often so they can collect the fees.
Differences of Purpose
All this talk of Boosters and math makes my head hurt anyway, because it acts as if Boosters are how you get the Magic cards you want, which they're not. Boosters are not a tool for getting cards. If they were, they'd be garbage at it. You saw those odds, .5%? Hundreds of dollars to get a card that may be at best, worth, what, $30?
Boosters are boosters. Boosters are made, and designed to be a game-complete unit on their own.
There's a way to play Magic: The Gathering called Booster draft. It is one of the two easiest to approach tournament formats that exist, and it is a format full of creature math and building tight decks, and it both rewards very specific skill, and strives to sort out for random good or bad luck.
What you do in Booster Draft is you get three boosters - that's usually the price of entry, by the way, just the cost of three boosters. You open the first booster, take one card, and pass the rest on. The player to your side did the same thing, and now you have a different booster, minus one card, to choose from, and so on. This is a great format, it's a good way to build skill, and it's a good way to build a collection. If you want to play tournament magic, this is absolutely one of your best starting points.
Some of the articles harping on this point used the entry point for formats called Legacy and Vintage as their data points. This is pure crap. Those formats are functionally vestigial. Wizards are not looking to recruit players into playing Vintage or Legacy, because those formats are both fundamentally constricted (the number of cards) and entirely secondary (Wizards have promised not to print the cards that define those formats ever again).
Oh, and because this is my month, fuck it, here, let's get really petty: I see you, Person I Don't Even Remember The Name Of, complaining about the high prices of Legacy sideboard card Moat keeping him from playing Legacy competitively, and therefore, a sign of how much of a bad game Magic: The Gathering is and how problematically exploitative it was. I see you passing off the high cost of a bad format as a proof of Magic: The Gathering's tournament scene being inaccessible.
In that article, you said that Legacy was a 'financially rewarding' tournament environment and all I could think is are you kidding me and my balls. There is going to be one Magicfest in 2019 that's Legacy. There were four Limited Magicfests in February alone. If you fail to get rich playing Legacy, it's not because of the price of Moats, buddy.
Differences of Data
Wizards markets Magic. They want you to think it's cool and buy it. They do this by making the game serve a whole variety of communities, with different axes of art, gameplay, expression and culture. Straight up, I am 100% certain that for all the moral footing of making Magic more inclusive and pushing to get more queer and millenial people into their market, is because there are people in that age range with money.
Yet because Magic is a product on cardboard that has to be mailed around the world, if they want to make art for a card they hope you, specifically, will like, they have to decide that months in advance, pay for the artwork, get it out there, and hope that you find it and hope it makes you want to buy their products. And they have to make that decision knowing that they're putting this stuff out there for a lot of people, and what product they release, even in varied bits, is going to be trying to appeal to a very big audience with a lot of different people in it. They can't make the game display Tity Witches for one player and make it show Tity Witches Waving Flags Saying Trans Rights for another.
Meanwhile, Gacha games weaponise the data gathering of your phone.
This isn't a controversial issue, by the way. This isn't some secret sleazy practice that some companies do, but the majority of Gacha game makers think, no, we are noble and honourable and would never. It is fundamental to these games that run out of your phone that they are absolutely gathering all the data they can on you, and they are setting up algorithms to tailor that game experience to you on your phone so that your version of the game is as psychologically satisfying as possible.
Some of these games go so far as to subtly change the success sound on a Gacha pull until they find the one you'll consistantly listen to all the way through. And why shouldn't they? There's nothing stopping them from doing these intensely creepy things. They're not just selling you an object they've made, they're marketing an experience to you to get you into their platform so you will keep giving them money. It's straight up platform capitalism, and it's so different from the studies that show that 'the moment you open a booster is exciting.'
Now, this is not a fixed point. After all, there's no reason to believe that if Wizards of the Coast could take the thumbprint reactions off your phone to the types of Magic card that you liked best, they wouldn't do that, because they are still a company. But they're trying to make something in a different way, and they can't tailor their product to your unique psychological responses.
Differences of Access
Fact is, if Wizards shut down tomorrow, every single card you own (with the exception of Urza's Head) would work. They would work fine. If they banned your favourite card tomorrow, there is nothing they can do to make you stop using that card.
Because all of this talk about tournament formats and secondary markets is ignoring the single most common Magic format. It's called Casual, and the cards legal in it are 'what I own.'
Players, broadly speaking, play Magic without a central authority, without tournament structures, without net decks, without an eye towards the next stage of the pro tour and without anyone able to stop them. And this is the biggest thing with Magic: The Gathering that sets it apart from Gacha games and why the comparison between Magic and its ludicrous secondary market as a booster purchasing motivator, in that none of those things are necessary to play the game in the vast, vast majority of ways the game is played.
Is any of this to say that Magic: the Gathering is a perfectly moral game system? No, not insofar as it's a capitalist system. It's connected to and rewards Hasbro, who do shady shit, and it's in the same company that makes 5th Edition D&D, which has both uplifted and tried to defend (in the past) the actions of utter monsters (Mike Mearls Retire Binch), even as it now tries to make amends.
Does it reward gambling in children? Not really, I don't think. Even if it does, that's a different conversation, and maybe one we can have. But it's hard to have that conversation when there are these other, much more bullshit conversations happening, like the conversation that wants to compare Magic: The Gathering having a Legacy format and Fate: Grand Order asking you to spend five thousand dollars in a week to get a character wearing a sexy bikini.
Don't worry, if you've made these comparisons. It's okay. This is a topic where there's a lot of complicated things going on, and it's hard to know them all. One commenter on my twitter feed remarked that when it comes to Magic it's either a topic you know nothing about or something you have a mini-PhD on, and yeah, I guess that's where I'm coming at this from.
This isn't even the thing that pisses me off the most about the conversation around Magic: the Gathering.
After all, some business assholes have taken to comparing Magic: The Gathering to bitcoin.
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argyle-s · 6 years
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THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME CHAPTER 35/38
Rating: Mature
Read at Ao3
Start at the Beginning
Cat and Kara Deal with the CatCo Board of Directors.
Thanks to @ifourmindbeso for her great work as a beta. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
Chapter 35 -  Going Nuclear
Kaldur’ahm was waiting for them as they approached the board room, holding a stack of folders Kara had asked him to prepare. Standing next to him was, of all people, Siobhan Smythe, holding a tray from Noonan’s.
“Jackson,” Kara said, giving him a small nod. “Miss Smythe.” Siobhan’s eyes opened a little wider, obviously surprised Kara knew who she was, but Kara ignored it. She took the tray from her. “Thank you, that will be all.”
Siobhan gave a slightly disappointed frown but left without saying anything.
“Are they already in there?” Kara asked.
“Yes,” Kaldur’ahm said.
Kara held out the tray to Cat. “Hold this for a moment?”
Cat took the tray, and Kara plucked Cat’s latte from it. She pushed up her glasses, then popped the lid on the drink, and after a quick check to make sure no one else was watching, she zapped it with her heat vision, making it just a tiny bit hotter than usual, before putting the lid back on and putting it back in the tray. She ignored the surprised look on both Cat and Kaldur’ahm’s faces as she took the tray back from Cat.
“Still trust me?” she asked Cat.
“Was signing over all my shares of CatCo not proof enough?” Cat asked, the smile on her face taking any sting out of her words.
Kara smiled back and had a sudden, mad urge to kiss Cat. She stepped on it, crushing it ruthlessly, reminding herself that she was just excited because it had been such a long time since she got to work with Cat on this level.
“Let’s go,” she said.
***
Cat walked into the board room like she owned it, which up until an hour ago, she had. Still, it was a habit, and one she allowed herself to fall into. She wasn’t at all sure what to expect from Kara, but she knew the show would be spectacular. She took her seat at the head of the table, staring at the nine faces who would thought they were about to determine her fate, and reminded herself of why she hated every one of them. CatCo was hers. She’d built it up from nothing, riding on the strength of her name and her reputation. Over the years, every single one of the parasites in the room had been forced on her by investors, a fact that showed clearly in the fact that of the nine of them, only two were women.
The chief parasite, Dirk Armstrong, sat at the far end of the table, and she could read the victory in his eyes. The satisfaction. He was a small man, desperate to snatch something from her he didn’t think she deserved. Never mind that she created it, nurtured it, and forged it into a weapon to wield. He wanted it, and because he wanted it, he felt entitled to it. The only thing that would hurt worse than losing CatCo, would be losing CatCo to him, because she knew he would burn every good thing she’d ever done to the ground, just to get her out of the way.
She glanced up as Kara sat her latte down in front of her, before placing one in front of the seat to Cat’s left where Jackson was just sitting down, then placing one in front of her own seat. Then Kara flung the cardboard tray across the room like a frisbee, depositing it in the trash perfectly, with a casual display of skill and contempt for the board that made Cat’s insides squirm with arousal. Little ordinary Kara Danvers.
Supergirl.
“Two assistants, Cat. Really?” Dirk asked.
Cat turned back to Dirk, giving a small shrug. She no longer felt the need to placate the man. Whatever happened here today, whether Kara was able to turn this around or not, Dirk had declared war, and Cat fully intended to destroy him.
“Some of us work for a living, Dirk,” Cat said. “We can’t all get by on our Daddy’s name and money.”
The entire board flinched, each of them shocked by the open display of hostility, and Cat smiled. They’d expected her to walk in here, broken and cowed. If they were half as smart as they thought they were, they’d have recognized the danger the moment she walked through the door. She no longer had anything to lose, and as much as she hated Cat puns, the claws were out.
“That’s uncalled for,” Roger Harris said from where he sat to Dirk’s right.
“Oh, Roger,” Cat said, “someone should have said that years ago. It might have saved us all a lot of tedium.”
“Well, if that’s your attitude, maybe we should have had this meeting a long time ago,” Amanda Baker said.
“Oh, I agree,” Cat said. “I’ve put up with all of you far, far too long.”
There. Now they were starting to see the danger signs. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to be begging for her job, not coming out on the attack.
“Cat,” Jennifer Winston said, “what exactly do you think is going to happen here today?”
The entire board looked at her, expectantly.
“Oh, I honestly have no idea,” Cat said. “I do know that you expected me to come in here and beg for my job.”
“It’s not like that,” Jennifer said. “Surely you can see the position you put us in?”
“I can see that you all want a piece of my company. The one I built up from scratch. The one built on my very literal blood and tears. I can see how, the moment you think you smell blood in the water, you turn on me, too stupid to realize you’re not the sharks you think you are.”
Every one of them had gone pale, which for Amanda and Joseph was quite a feat, and it just made her smile all the more.
“But to be perfectly honest with you, I have absolutely no idea what is about to happen. I just know it’s going to be highly entertaining.”
“Well,” Kara said, “I hope it lives up to your expectations, Miss Grant.” Cat glanced over at Kara and saw her nod to Jackson, who stood up and started walking around the table, setting down folders in front of each member of the board.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the board,” Kara said as she took one of the folders from Jackson, “If you look at the packets in front of you, you will see from pages one through seven that as of eight forty this morning Pacific Standard Time, all SEC filings are complete, and a Tender Offer has been made by Danvers International to purchase CatCo Worldwide Media. Under the terms of the CatCo Corporate Charter, if a two-thirds supermajority of stock holders vote to approve the sale of CatCo, all members of the board are required to sell their shares so long as the tender offer is at least ten percent above market value. If you see look at page seven of the packet in front of you, you will see that Miss Grant transferred all her shares of CatCo to me at eight thirty-five Pacific Standard Time this morning, and I now own sixty-seven percent of CatCo stock. Page eight is a written demand for an immediate vote on the Tender Offer. Page nine is a written statement assigning all my votes in support of the buy-out. Page ten is evidence of corporate wrongdoing on the part of Dirk Armstrong, specifically emails documenting a conspiracy to orchestrate a hack of Cat Grant’s email, release it to the media, and force her resignation in disgrace. Pages eleven, twelve and thirteen include the relevant sections of Dirk’s contract stating that in the event that he is found acting against CatCo’s interests, he will be removed from the board, and forfeit ownership of CatCo stock and stock options, as well as all CatCo contributions to his retirement accounts, all contributions to the CatCo pension plan, and all profit sharing. Page fourteen exercises clause six of section four of the CatCo charter, giving the stock holders the option of demanding a vote of no confidence in the board in the event any member of the board is found acting against the best interests of CatCo. Page fifteen assigns all my votes in support of a no confidence vote. Page sixteen is a nomination for Cat Grant to act as interim chairwoman until a new board can be elected. Page seventeen is the signature page, acknowledging receipt of all of these documents, and confirming your acceptance of the Tender Offer.”
“In short, the eight of you are fired for gross incompetence,” Kara said, making a sweeping gesture towards the board members, then she pointed at Dirk, “and you, you walking personification of white male privilege, are going to jail.”
Cat had to force herself to look away from Kara, who sat in the chair next to her, looking like nothing so much as a general who’d just completely routed the enemy. It was hard, but she did it. She turned and looked at the board, and every single one of them sat there, unmoving, a look of complete and utter shock on their faces.
“This would be the part where you all sign,” Kara said in a tone that caused several of the board members to flinch.
Roger Harris, either braver or stupider than the rest, leaned forward, glaring at Kara. “Now just a minute-“
“No,” Kara snapped. “I don’t think so. You can sign now, or I can have the same team of cops and lawyers from the DA’s office who are, as we speak, ripping Dirk’s office apart take a good look at just who those emails were directed to, and that wouldn’t go very well for you or Miss Baker. Now, sign.”
Eight hands reached for pens, and Cat watched with unrestrained glee as everyone but Dirk signed the papers. A moment later though, her attention shifted to Dirk, drawn by the way his hands curled into fists.
“You bitch,” Dirk screamed, shoving the conference table to the side. It slammed into Roger and Amanda, knocking them both back as Dirk came to his feet, but Kara and Jackson both reacted before he could take another step.
Jackson grabbed Cat, pulling her out of her chair and pushing her away from the danger, interposing himself between her and Dirk. All Cat could see of Kara was her vaulting the table before Jackson pushed her out the door.
To Cat’s surprise, there were four cops waiting in the hallway. Two in cheap suits, two more in uniform.
“He tried to attack her,” Jackson said as he pulled her further from the door. The cops didn’t wait, they disappeared into the board room
‘’Miss Grant, please stop fighting,” Jackson said, making Cat pause when she realized she was struggling. “She will be fine,” he assured her.
Cat forced herself to straighten up. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I understand,” he said. “I loved someone that way, once, as well.”
She looked at him, but he did not meet her gaze, instead scanning the room in the manner of a body guard she had always suspected he was.
“She’s my friend,” Cat said, the denial sounding weak, even to her.
“Of course,” he said. “I had such a friend, once.”
A moment later, the cops dragged a red-faced Dirk Armstrong from the room. The other board members trailed out after them. Kara was the last one to exit the room, and she came carrying a stack of folders, which she offered to Cat.
“The keys to your kingdom, Miss Grant,” she said with a smile.
From CatCo.com Stock Market In Turmoil Amidst Rash of Hostile Takeover Bids By Natalie Mercer
Stock prices across several sectors took a huge hit today, after previously unheard-of California company Danvers International submitted FTC filings announcing hostile takeover bids of six separate companies, including Lord Technologies, TychoTech, LuthorCorp, Queen Consolidated, Galaxy Communications, and CatCo.com’s parent company CatCo Worldwide Media. All six companies were already suffering from reduced stock prices before the takeover attempts. Queen Consolidated has never fully recovered from the death of CEO Robert Queen in a boating accident in two thousand and seven. LuthorCorp is still reeling from the recent conviction of former CEO Lex Luthor on multiple charges of murder and terrorism stemming from his attempts to kill Superman. Lord Technologies and TychoTech have both seen their CEO’s indicted in the last couple of weeks, and the reputations of both CatCo Worldwide Media, and Galaxy Communications, owners of The Daily Planet, were brought into question when it appeared that Supergirl had attacked former CatCo radio personality Leslie Willis.
Willis herself appeared outside National City Police Headquarters, making a public statement not only exonerating the Girl of Steel, but thanking the Superhero for saving her life, however, the takeover bids seemed to hit before CatCo and Galaxy Communications stock prices could recover.
While no official announcement has been made yet, but with their stock prices in freefall, analysts predict that both Lord Technologies and TychoTech have little chance of avoiding the buyouts. Predictions are mixed on the reaction at Queen Consolidated, with some suggesting a fierce fight for control, while others suggest the buyout may be welcomed by the current leadership. Analysts almost universally predict fierce resistance from Galaxy Communications, CatCo, and especially, LuthorCorp, which is currently in the midst of a leadership struggle between Lillian and Lena Luthor, both seeking control in the wake of Lex Luthor’s incarceration.
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Wild Things
A gift fic for @ninjacat1515 I hope you enjoy it! ^_^
When Eliza first stepped off the boat and onto Raoul Silva’s private island she could tell almost immediately that something was wrong and it wasn’t just because the goons that had escorted her here wouldn’t come off the ship… in fact, no sooner had she set foot on dry land did the men retreat farther back onto the boat and none of them even bothered to unmoor it. They just tore part of the dock off in their haste to leave as fast as humanly possible.
“Okkaay.” The shifter muttered under her breath as she took note of her surroundings and how everything just seemed eerily quiet. In spite of having known Silva for some time she’d never been to his island before. It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected… truth be told everything just seemed far to quiet and there was a strange and pungent odor in the air that smelled distinctly like… fish?
“Ah, you must be Eliza.” The voice of a woman who had just stepped out from the shadows of a nearby building said politely, although her abrupt appearance did make Eliza jump a bit. Unfortunately, she could not help but be on edge, as he had been at the receiving end of Silvas teeth before. Hell, she’d been chomped by the whole frickin’ family before. Old habits truly did die hard, and being on guard around members of the Salazar family may be something she would never truly lose.
Now the woman before her Eliza knew to be, for lack of better words, Silvas evil secretary. The ‘evil’ part having been literally on her resume when he had acquired her services a little over a year ago. Appearance wise, as she wore an attractive light grey what could only be accurately described as the universal ‘Secretary’s Uniform’ and she was even carrying around a clipboard… although oddly enough she wore what appeared to be running shoes rather than traditional heels. Her eyes could only be described as being a very pale lavender and their unusual color was only accentuated by the pair of glasses she had. Finally her hair which was about shoulder length was of an unusual color, just like her eyes. It was not quite white and not quite light blue, so the nearest word to properly describe it would be the color of ice… although while most of it was properly brushed out and neatly tied back into a low hanging ponytail it looked as though the entire left side of her hair had some kind of gel product in it causing the hair to look distorted and messy. “My name is Dana and we’re so glad you could come on such short notice. Mr. Silva is waiting to speak with you, if you’ll just follow me please.”
“Um… yeah.” Eliza muttered as she hesitantly followed the taller woman. While she could tell the woman wasn’t a vampire, she also was quite sure she wasn’t human either. And whatever she was Eliza had a feeling it wasn’t a particularly cuddly critter. “Silva mentioned something about a problem you guys are having here. But he never got specific beyond the urgency for me to pack my bag and get out here as fast as possible… so what gives?”
“Well…” Dana momentarily trailed off as the sounds of something crashing were heard echoing from somewhere farther inland. But the brief pause allowed Eliza to take notice of a multitude of tears in Danas clothes that exposed a multitude of shallow but nonetheless painful looking cuts. Definitely not the kind of wounds vampires tended to make, and Silva was very against injuring his employees so they were not likely to have come from him… still Dana regained herself and continued moving, although now at a far faster pace. “I’m afraid it’s a very difficult situation to explain.”
“Try me.”
“Mr. Silva will tell you all about it.” She stated firmly effectively ending the conversation for the remainder of their walk. It wasn’t to long before they came to what appeared to be the ruins of what was once an enormous statue and sure enough there was Silva…
Silva may have been smiling his trademark happy yet evil smile but his appearance was… off… to say the least. For starters his pricey suit was a wreck, completely ripped up and completely missing its left sleeve and the biggest red flag was that all the hair on the left side of his head was styled straight upwards with the same gel that was messily smeared in Danas hair as well. It was not a good look, made even more unnerving by how the look in Silva’s eyes practically screamed he was about ready to completely lose it. “Ah welcome dear sweet Eliza!” He said, his voice careful to hide how his obvious agitation behind his usual seemingly happy demeanor.  “Thank you so much for coming here in such a hurry.”
“What’s going on Silva?” Eliza asked flatly.
“Straight to the point as ever? Fine, fine. Walk with me and I will explain everything.” Silva said calmly gesturing with his hand for Eliza to follow him. Immediately Dana was her bosses side and Eliza internally groaned as she realized that she was probably going to have an entire tour of the island before he got to the point. “The story begins a few months ago, surely you’re aware of the most recent problem the world seems to be having. You know, how dinosaurs seem to be popping up everywhere and causing all kinds of mayhem? Of course you know... Why just a few short days ago you had to scare off one of the three-horned beasties that had wandered onto your beloved sanctuary.”
“How did you… you know what nevermind. I don’t think I want to know how you know this stuff.” The shifter growled lowly. Inwardly remembering her complete shock of seeing an actual Triceratops calmly walking through the grounds of her sanctuary. It had been a majestic scene, until the creature took notice of all the people watching it and got spooked and ultimately charged at the gathering of shifters. Resulting in a great deal of property damage and Eliza needing to take the form of Beast in order to drive it away… Although her words did little more than make Silva burst out in a fit of mock laughter.
“Satellites my dear! Nothings easier than commandeering a satellite to just check in on the people I care about the most.” The flashy vampire pointed out although his words didn’t make the fact that he had been spying on her via hacking a satellite any less disturbing.
“You have entirely too much free time and too many toys.”
“Regardless.” He said waving off the young woman’s obvious annoyance. “Well you’re sure to find out sooner or later. But the truth is that the animals were rescued from their now molten crater of a home, only to be sold off to anyone who could afford them. Be it arms dealers, pharmaceutical companies or big-game hunters.” Silva paused, noting how Eliza had stopped walking and was now staring at him with a look filled with nothing short of abject horror. “Not exactly a happy story I’m afraid, but it’s important that you know the origins of my current dilemma.”
“Silva, tell me you didn’t have anything to do with all mayhem that’s going on now.” The shifter demanded.
“Of course I’m not responsible for things ending up as crazy as they are now! However…” He trailed off, clearly looking for the right words in order to continue his story. “You see… In recent times I’ve had some unpleasant dealings with a Russian arms dealer. Nasty fellow, got on my nerves relatively quickly and even had the audacity to sell me a cache of weapons that were nothing but duds! So, when I heard that he was attending this little event in order to acquire some dangerous carnivores to be his own personal attack dogs I just had to be a thorn in his side and purchase whatever creature he really wanted the most. So, I sent Dana to the auction on my behalf.”
“And that is when the trouble began.” Dana acknowledged, just as Eliza suddenly noticed that the evil secretary had gone quite pale and looked like she was ready to become physically sick. But she suppressed it masterfully and continued on… “Our target became very interested in a prototype creature called an Indoraptor. You remember the stories about the Indominus Rex? Well this creature is a smaller derivative of that beast. And naturally, we outbid him…”
“However the preview model was not the one that we received.” Silva groaned apparently too distracted to have taken notice of his secretaries’ moment of sickness. “That one got lose or something… But right when I thought I blew $29 million. A beast was delivered to my lovely home.”
“So let me get this straight… You bought a breed of dinosaur that is pretty much a living weapon and I’m going to just take a shot in the dark here; it’s running loose all over this island and trying to kill everyone and everything?” She stared at the vampire, honestly not entirely sure what to think of his entire story. But the one thing was becoming painfully clear… When any kind of revenge or payback was involved, in spite of his vast intellect… Silva was a complete moron driven only by his anger and no common sense.
Sensing the young woman’s ire the blond man sighed and rubbed his temples. “Yes and no.” He muttered. “I received an Indoraptor all right, but I can definitely see why they did not show this one as the preview model! If they had it would’ve made the geneticist a laughing stock!”
“What-”
“He’s cuddly.” The vampire said flatly. “2000 pounds of raw muscle, teeth and claws and the damn thing is freaking cuddly. Mind you when we first received it, it was showing all the signs of an abused animal. Even had terrific scarring on its hide, like someone beat it with chains and then let the wounds get infected and the animal then scratched them raw. It was actually quite sad… But we fed him, gave it a large room to stalk around in, mostly while we were trying to figure what the heck to actually do with him, because I will admit I didn’t exactly plan this out as well as I should have.” He paused as a small smile creeped onto his features. “Until one day one of the feeders left the latch on the door open and he got out… we prepared for the worst, only low and behold. The big beastie was like a giant cat. All he wanted was pets and hugs. It was hilarious! But I was able to have this creature stalking around my home while I’m speaking with my business clientele and they are completely terrified him. Usually begging me not to sick it on them. Thus, negotiations almost always went my way…”
“Or at least that’s how things were until recently.” Dana muttered. “All of a sudden his personality has completely flipped. I watched him drag away one of our employees the other day. As you have noticed the majority of our staff got on a boat and is remaining offshore until things calm down, cant say I blame them… considering we have a multitude of personnel who are still missing and we can only assume that they are either in hiding or dead. I’m guessing dead because or so called pet, went for both Raoul and myself.”
“Thing about abused animals,” Eliza said calmly, carefully noting how Dana had accidentally referred to Silva by his first name. “some can be overly affectionate out of fear, and when they aren’t afraid anymore… you better watch out.”
“Thanks a lot Dr. Dolittle.” Dana injected flatly. “Point is, Indigo is now out of control and needs to be dealt with.”
“Indigo?”
“Its name, apparently they were identified by colors in place of names.” Silva said as more visible cracks in his demeanor and he smiled in a semi insane way. “Now this is where you come in, dear Eliza. I need you to go in there and take care of this problem for me. I would be beyond grateful for your assistance!”
“All right, this is the part where I tell you to go screw yourself. You’re the idiot went and bought an animal you can’t control! Besides, just what would you have me do about it anyway?!”
“We are aware that you can turn into a Tyrannosaurus Rex.” Dana injected. “Our hope was that you could… deal with our little problem before things get even more out of control than they already are.”
Now it all made sense and truth be told Eliza wasn’t having any of it. They expected her to come all this way only to get into a vicious and bloody fight? Well they had another thing coming for them! “Oh no, I am not getting all ripped up because you-”
“If you do this for me, I’ll completely pay for all the damages the dinosaur rampage inflicted on your sanctuary.” Silva broke down and literally pleaded. “I am begging you! He’s driving me absolutely crazy!!!” Now Eliza had seen many things over the course of her life that most people would never believe. But the sight of Raoul Silva, perhaps the greatest hacker in the world, clearly on the razors edge of sanity was definitely one of the most unnerving… Dare she say it, she felt… bad for him… In spite of everything that happened between them, she still felt bad for him.
God damn it…
(20 Minutes Later)
 Eliza cautiously made her way through the winding labyrinth of buildings and wreckage that covered the majority of Silva’s Island. Armed with only her natural born instincts as a shifter and a walkie-talkie to communicate with Dana and Silva when the deed was done. She had been told that the Indoraptor had been seen predominantly around the building that housed Silva’s computer mainframe and network systems. So that was the place she was beginning her hunt.
Upon reaching the building she cautiously open the door and peered inside only to be greeted with the sight of what had undoubtedly driven Silva insane… well more insane… a mountain of destroyed computer equipment.
Eliza whistled in an impressed way as a few sparks of electricity erupted out of some exposed wires. “No wonder Silva is losing his mind. I always imagined nothing would make him want to cry more than the sound of his precious computers breaking.” Just inside and got nearer the wreckage, only to become fully aware of the strange sound that sounded bizarrely like a voice… granted it was very low and laced with static, almost as though it was generated by one of the destroyed computers that littered the ground.
“Sssssiilvva?” The voice came through the static again. Only it seemed to be even more garbled, yet still the single word it was saying was discernable. Eliza stopped feeling her heart fall into her stomach as a massive form moved out of the shadows of the room.
It was big, not T Rex big… but still pretty darn big. Its hide was as black as ebony although was very noticeably riddled with scars that looked just as Silva had described, like someone had taken a bike chain and whipped it. It had very large pale blue eyes and perhaps its most noticeable feature, a thick indigo colored stripe running down the entire length of its body. In its mouth was what Eliza could only speculate to be the wreckage of what was once a pricey laptop.
The creature walked forward and with a surprising amount of precision put the destroyed laptop on oddly arranged pile of mangled computer equipment, even taking an extra moment or so to make sure that the piece was placed in just a certain way. Clearly whatever it was doing was deliberate and thought out. What Eliza never got the chance to finish marveling at the creature’s apparent intelligence as it turned its attention completely onto her and after a moment there came a low staticy word of “Meat.” And it suddenly charged at her. The vision of this animal lunging at her brought about an immediate involuntary reaction and suddenly Beast towered above the monstrous hybrid and with one swat of her tail she sent the Indoraptor flying and crashing into its carefully arranged pile of junk.
Beast roared angrily at the Indoraptor and just as she was getting ready to charge a garbled mess of static erupted from where the creature had landed. Static that once again sounded suspiciously like words and so panicked that it made even Beast pause. Was there someone else in here with them?
“No hurt! No hurt Indigo!” The voice said again only now Beast realized that this voice was actually calming from the Indoraptor! It was pretty safe to say that no one had ever seen a T-Rex drop its jaw in total shock… Well, there’s a first time for everything because that’s exactly what happened.
The hybrids head cautiously poked out from where it had landed and it looked up at Beast nervously. “Big. Really big.” Came the static laced words again. After a moment its head disappeared and suddenly the creature popped out of the rubble with a very large fish in its jaws. It cautiously approached the Rex before putting the fish on the ground and nudging it closer to what could potentially be its aggressor. “Eat fishy not Indigo?”
Beast stared, in both the human and animal portions of her mind this entire situation had gone in a completely bizarre direction. Unfortunately for the Eliza portion of her mind beast came to her senses a bit quicker and actually decided to eat the offered raw and somewhat rancid fish. The taste was pretty bad and the human gag reflex managed to force her out of her transformation and she fell to the floor coughing, trying to spit out some of the disgusting taste that still lingered on her tongue. Unfortunately, her rapid reduction in size led the creature to get closer… A lot closer… actually by the time Eliza looked up this thing was now mere inches from her face, looking at her and sniffing curiously.
“Small now.” The barely audible voice said with a tone of interest. “Who you?”
Eliza didn’t answer, quite frankly she was spending more time trying to wrap her brain around the fact that this creature was somehow talking.
“Who you?” It asked again. This time words making the shifter come to her senses and answer before it decided to lose its patience with her and try to eat her again.
“Eliza.” He said hastily and then decided what the hell and gave something a shot and pointed to herself. “Friend of Silva.”
“You pack?” It asked tilting his head to the side a little before seeming to answer its own question and the damn thing nodded and suddenly pressed its head into her chest and rubbed emitting a deep purring sound in a friendly manner. “Pack good.”
“Yeahhhh.” She trailed off, just as she took notice of something around the animals’ neck that looked like some kind of collar. And suddenly it dawned on her and Eliza inwardly swore left right and sideways.
“Leave it to Raoul Silva to find a real world working version of the ‘Talking Collars’ from the movie ‘Up’ and put it on his fricking raptor!” She inwardly hissed. Although she also took note that it looked a bit damaged and while the raptor was rubbing up against her she carefully pushed the damage components back into place. Hopefully fixing the static problem but she wouldn’t know until it tried to talk again. Remembering her task, she suddenly pushed the big beasties head away from her and stood up.
“Your… Indigo right?”
“Me indigo. You Eliza.” It chirped happily. The static now gone from its voice and allowing it to be properly identified as a male and a full emotional range to be distinctly notable its tones. “You help Indigo now?” He asked as his tail wagged slightly in a playful manner.
“You want me to… help you?” Eliza echoed not entirely clear what the animal, Indigo, actually wanted. “Help you with what?”
Indigo suddenly hopped up and began running around the piles of wrecked equipment and began to reorganize them. At the same time also revealing that among all of the sharp pieces were numerous pillows and blankets, even clothing all arranged into a ring. And right in the center was a pile of rotting stinking ocean dwelling fish. There was even a dead Mola Mola propped up in one corner! He suddenly returned and began to much more forcefully push his head against Eliza, directing her out the door and into the central courtyard. “Help Indigo find meat! Meat from not-pack humans!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Eliza said as she maneuvered herself away from the hybrid beast. “You can’t eat humans! Bad! Bad Indigo!”
“Indigo not eating humans!” The creature defended, actually taking a step backward like Eliza had cracked a whip on him. “Red bite humans, they made Red sad with zaps. Red always cry until he died… Green ate human, Green got shot dead. Violet bit doctor human, doctor human made Violet dumb with cuts to her head. Violet die. Gold…” Indigo trailed off right around the time that Eliza started to feel sick when she realized that Indigo was in fact talking about other Indoraptors he must have been created with. Animals that had no doubt suffered badly if this story was any indication. “Gold was psychopath. Gold ate humans, but gold was big. Gold was frightening. Gold never got in same trouble as others. Indigo once tasted human meat, but taste bad… Indigo like fish, not meat. Fishy better.”
“If you’re not eating them what did you mean when you said that you want to find… meat.” She pressed. Now officially starting to think that that Silva and Dana had mistaken this animals recently developed strange habits as signs of aggression. And the damaged collar had no doubt inhibited their ability to understand whatever he had been trying to say. All in all, he seemed like a pretty tame creature, if not a goofy one. Fuck… he was adorable in a menacing-predator-that-is-scared-of-a-butterfly sort of way.
“Indigo trade.” He replied simply. “Indigo trade meat for fish.”
“Riiiight…” Eliza looked at him skeptically. “So, you throw them in the ocean?”
“Yes! Throw meat in water, catch fish in return. Fair trade.” All right, that pretty much explained the whole situation. Indigo wasn’t killing off Silva’s goons, he was throwing in the ocean as some sort of weird ritual he believed would help him catch fish. Like he believed something was actually giving him fish in exchange for people. So chances were fairly high that all the men who had disappeared were actually alive and all right, just probably well-hidden on another portion of the island away from the raptor.
“You don’t want to hurt Silva do you? Or Dana?”
“Never, Silva pack! Dana pack! Baby will be pack!” The raptor screeched, literally screeched with some earsplitting roar mixed in with the artificial voice of the collar.
Eliza blinked once in slight confusion. “What baby?” But then she stopped as a realization dawned on her.
…Oh…
(A few minutes later)
Silva and Dana cautiously entered what had once upon a time been the computer room. Only a few steps inside they were greeted with the sight of Eliza scratching Indigo’s belly and the big raptor laying there and enjoying it. It was not the site they had expected to see when the young woman had radioed them and informed them that she had dealt with the situation. Upon noticing the vampire and his secretaries arrival a cheeky grin spread across Eliza’s face.
“So you to finally got here. I’m sure he found something to do in order to keep yourselves entertained while I handled everything?” She really tried, but was still unable to hide all of the smugness in her voice.
“What’s going on?” Silva demanded as he cast his eyes over the now apparently docile Indigo. “How in the world did you fix this?”
Eliza snickered a bit. “Turns out he wasn’t getting aggressive at all. He was getting protective.” She then gestured over to the ring of broken equipment with the pile of fish in the center. “Do you know what that is Silva?” Judging by his look of growing agitation, no doubt directed completely at her not getting straight to the point… no, no he did not. “It’s a nest… He was making you guys a nest.”
“What in the world fo- Gah!!” Dana started, only to find herself being grabbed by Indigo and dragged over to the nest. As the big hybrid did so, a pair of large feathery wings unfurled from her back and her hands became very sharp claws… revealing her true form to be a harpy… but before she got a chance to use her claws she was dumped in the middle of the nest. And then a fish was dropped in her lap… She just sat there for a moment completely dumbstruck and unable to grasp just what the hell was going on.
“It would seem Mr. Silva, that you have fallen victim to an age-old temptation… and thus you’ve knocked up your secretary… classy… Oh and congratulations, I’ll be sure to send you a fruit basket.” Eliza could no longer contain herself and burst out laughing as the look of sheer bewilderment slowly spread across Silva’s face. Not to mention that Dana looked every bit as dumbfounded as her employer and apparently, secret lover.
In spite of the mirth everyone really should have been paying a bit more attention to what was going on around them. Especially when Indigo’s head perked up and his attention became locked on a lone figure that had just entered the room. It was one of Silva’s missing thugs and judging by his disheveled appearance he had been hiding for some time. Probably only coming out when he thought that his employer’s pet was no longer out of control. He had been quietly approaching Silva from the behind, no doubt right about to ask what was going on… When all of a sudden Indigo snarled and rushed forward, which of course resulted in this man screaming and running away. Naturally he didn’t get very far and Indigo grabbed him with his mouth, not in a way that would have severely injured him but in a more than effective way to drag this man wherever he wanted.
The laughter was almost immediately cut short and was promptly replaced with all three of them chasing after the hybrid creature, screaming for him to stop and put the man down. Even with the vampires incredible speed he wasn’t able to keep up with his pet. Indigo raced all the way down to the water’s edge on the north side of the island and in a single surprisingly swift movement he flung the man far out into the ocean.
“Indigo you beast! What are you doing?!” Silva demanded as he raised his hand and gave the raptor very hard swipe with his claws. It was not a particularly hard strike, as much as it was supposed to get the creature’s attention. Of course it worked, maybe a little too well, as the motion made Indigo cower and whine. No doubt due to past traumatic memories.
“It’s all right Silva! He’s not actually hurting anybody!” Eliza stated trying to diffuse the situation. “He just thinks throwing people in the water makes it easier to catch fish for some reason.” Before Silva could reply, there was a splashing sound from the water and when everyone looked… The man was gone. Indigo’s head perked up and he looked expectantly towards the water.
“Trade.” He said calmly. “Trade with friend. Meat for fish.”
A rather cold, unpleasant feeling settled in the trio’s stomachs at that moment. With Dana being the only one actually finding the ability to say what was on everyone else’s mind and she quietly asked. “Who is your friend?” And right on cue, no less than several hundred massive and varying fish were abruptly thrown out of the water and smacked with a great deal of force into all the parties watching, with the only exception being Indigo. Who had been smart enough to stand off to the side… A massive form surfaced from beneath the water and a large reptilian eye looked upon the group. After a moment the Mosasaur submerged… but not before it smacked its flipper in the air several times in a distinctive waving motion. To which the Indoraptor merely chirped happily back in its direction and waved as well…
In spite of now smelling like 15 kinds of different fish, Eliza still managed to watched this scene and laugh weakly. Very much aware of the angry glares she was getting from the vampire and the harpy.
“Well… that’s definitely not good.”
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