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trashbinbackyard · 3 years

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jack/mirad & kai/helvi

I woke up at 8 and went like eeeh i can sleep another half an hour and them boom, 1pm

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Mirad has grown past his most reckless tendencies, Jack however hasn't, but he's more at danger to himself than to others

Kai is very careful when he's out hunting and he's never alone. Helvi however has a habit of going into the woods alone

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

I don't feel like either?

If they had phones it'd be Helvi

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love

Mirad spoils Jack, lets be real, it doesn't turn into a competition bc it's in moderation, and mostly Mirad treating Jack to some of his skincare products

Kai miiiiight spoil Helvi juuuuust a bit, he doesn't mind getting up way earlier to fix her breakfast and help her tie her hair and acquiring many fur blankets

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

A few years for sure, when they both were sure about it. Probably talked about it too before Mirad proposed

Few years, if wasn't for Kai's role in the village they would've gotten married later, as neither really saw marriage as That important and just something they one day would like to do.

6. What was their wedding like

Small, just closest family and couple friends, nothing extravagant for the middle aged men

Whole day event basically with everyone from the village and surrounding area invited (against Kai's best wishes), Weddings, and especially high profile weddings like that are few and far between and they're quite the event. Small ceremony but then a huge feast with dancing singing and general revelry

7. Is their friends/family supportive

Ellen is very happy for them both, Mirad's parents were wary but approve later on, Marda is still sus about Jack

Very much so, Kory pretty much pushed them to get married already, Kat when she finds out is very happy for them both. Helvi's parents are so proud and treat Kai like close family

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Mirad talks to Jack gently, checks if he hasn't hurt himself, bring him a snack and drink. When Mirad's distressed Jack will ask if he can do anything and keep him company if he lets him

If Kai's in distress he tends to shut down and all Helvi can really do is keep him company and hold him. If Helvi's upset Kai will call a timeout and just go somewhere with her where she can calm down and talk things through

9. Which one dissociates

Jack mostly

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like "damn" and how does the other react when catching them

Both. Mirad would be more cheeky (hehe) in his reaction while Jack is like "my booty?? :0"

Helvi. Kai blushes

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

Both had their separate places, where Mirad's was very neat and organized and Jack's was a whole mess. Jack would still keep his place as a workshop while he pretty much now lives with Mirad, where he learns to respect the house rules

They share a two-story chief's house with Kory and a garm, they have the whole lower level to themselves pretty much, and it's quite big, it's very cozy and bit cabin'y even if it's larger

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Jack's a sad drunk, first thing Mirad knew about him tbh. Mirad doesn't drink if I remember correct

Neither of them want to get Drunk drunk, just tipsy. Kai loosens up and gets chattier. Helvi gets giggly and cuddly

14. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give kiss them

Beware the morning breath. Mirad wakes up before Jack

Kai doesn't wake Helvi up when he leaves the bed to go prepare breakfast, but when that's done he will kiss her goodmorning

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Jack likes welding for fun too, he's made some little "art" pieces for Mirad with textures he knows he likes, and Mirad appreciates it. Mirad's big into working out and Jack will be out of breath in two minutes if he joins but it's a pleasant experience

Helvi loves making potions and instruments and while Kai knows little about either he's up for helping her if she asks, she also sings. I know this seems kinda random bc I just know thought of it, but Kai's into drawing with charcoals, it would be fitting for his "quiet kid with not many friends" character (it hits a little too close home lmao)

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

That's very much up Jack's alley

If they had phones, Helvi

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other

Not kinkshame, more like kink-concern on Mirad's part like "Jack, honey, WHY do you wanna be choked that hard"

Neither of them have really out there kinks, though Helvi would be up to do it in the woods. Just have to be extra careful they're far enough from any civilization

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Jack, he's pudgy and wrinkly. Mirad doesn't mind it one bit and calling Jack a sexy beast on the regular makes Jack happy and less ashamed of his body

Helvi used to, before trans-your-gender spell hit, (and bc she basically got to decide what her body would look like of course she has no regrets) Kai is very body-neutral about himself, yeah that's a body, nothing special but ain't nothing wrong with it either

21. What is their song? Like the song that gives them overwhelming feelings?

Well I have listed Silent storm for them once and you know what, I stand by it

From Heilung Traust and Krigsgaldr (first half of it anyway), both were big inspirations for Helvi's character in general and Maria Franz is her voiceclaim too lol (also the guy on krigsgaldr second verse for Kai's voiceclaim (before 4.40 mark))

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Jack is a recovering addict, also depressed, and alcoholic (recovering when they get together). Mirad is also an ex-addict and while he's much further into his recovery he's not immune to the shitty stuff that still might happen, they're each other's peer support

Helvi used to have bad dysphoria

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Head, forehead for Jack (and lips of course) he's not that big into getting kisses on his body. Mirad is sensitive everwhere but IIRC neck and sides are big

Helvi's wrists and neck just below her ears. Kai's throat and forehead

30. Do they dance together

Mirad poledances, Jack enjoys the view

At their wedding sure, both lil tipsy and letting loose, both lost their flower crowns that evening

31. Do they sing together

More like hum if they feel like it

Helvi's the one signing, Kai might join in on a verse or two

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe

Pretty safe with the occasional reckless on Jack's part

Safe

35. What be their kinks and do they try each other's kinks

Love and Care, and choking

They're pretty vanilla

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?

Arguments sure about Jack's self-destructive behaviors sometimes but the rule is never go to sleep angry so they both reflect on it with compassion

Not really, at least before The Incident, apologize and kiss and make up

38. Which one's top, bottom, verse

Mirad's a top, Jack is a pillow princess vers

Kai's top, Helvi's bottom

39. What kinda sex they be having (gentle rough whatever)

Whatever they're in the mood for, some tender lovin'? Sure! Get hot and heavy? With moderation. Break into laughter in the middle of it? Silly is also a mood!

It starts off as hot and heavy but calms down to more gentle

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

Jack would just hit them with the "don't be meeeaaan 🥺🥺" Mirad I feel like would go the verbal route as well but more stern

It's common knowledge to Not insult the village shaman (the one who has illness remedies and the one who blesses you before you travel), and you DONT insult the the chief's kid/chief. They're both capable of defending themselves but Kai will step in if he happens to hear

44. Do they want kids

Nah, who needs kids when you got nieces

Yeah, and I've finally made up my mind, they're gonna adopt a bunch (and bc you dropped out of the campaign I can tell you how: a village not that near but not that far gets attacked by a power hungry druid and leaves bunch of kids without parents and the party will escort them back to Kai's village, before they go after the druid)

#whoowhee there was a LOT #the power hungry druid is part of visenya's backstory and I was planning on the party taking a route that crosses Ziva's fam's village and #they see it in ruins (also bc of the power hungry druid)#idk how it's gonna play out yet but thats the plan #armed asshats #space shitstorm #im sure you have made a post with songs for mirad and jack and only one I remember is moves like jagger #jack is pretty dysfunctional at the beginning but with love and support from mirad and ellen and therapy he will get better

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ducktracy · 3 years

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184. the woods are full of cuckoos (1937)

release date: december 4th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: frank tashlin

starring: mel blanc (owlcott, walter finchell, milton squirrel, wendell howl, fox, raven mcquandry), tedd pierce (ben birdie, tizzie fish, andy bovine), sara berner (polly gillette, canary livingstone)

this cartoon gets the honorable award of possibly being the most dated warner bros. shorts in its vast repertoire of cartoons. not to worry! this will be a fun cartoon to unpack—i love delving into the shorts that involve extensive research. learning something new is something that‘s very rewarding to me, and i hope it is to you, too!

a giant ode to the short lived radio program community sing (lasting from 1936-1937), the short chronicles a woodland radio show hosted by a variety of caricatured animals putting on various acts.

iris in to the ringing of a bell. a pudgy, bespectacled owl rings it as he stands illuminated by the moonlight, preaching to all of the woodland critters, ready to start the show. he introduces himself as “owlcott”, a take on commentator alexander woollcott. he “blandly announces” (his words, not mine) the introduction of the master of ceremonies, ben birdie--a bird caricature of radio personality ben bernie, “the old maestro”.

birdie’s caricature is not new to audience’s eyes. the caricature, along with a handful of others, is reused from friz freleng’s the coocoo nut grove from 1936, a short that is very similar in vein to this one. tedd pierce provides birdie’s suave, velvety vocals as he introduces the program, only to be interrupted by the nasally cries of mel blanc. out pops walter finchell, a caricature of bernie’s faux-enemy walter winchell, both of whom carrying a notorious (and fake) feud in the radio-verse. it was common for winchell to interrupt the smooth-talking bernie, either throwing pranks or remarks his way, to which bernie dismissed every time. indeed, a signature tashlin upshot angle reveals finchell dropping an egg on top of birdie, who blocks it nonchalantly with a handy umbrella.

art loomer’s backgrounds for the cartoon are absolutely gorgeous. they’re vibrant in color, very lush and painterly, but remain playful and sophisticated at the same time. they certainly serve as a highlight to the short. and, as always, carl stalling’s scores are a blast to hear--his sardonic, wah-wah rendition of “cause my baby says it’s so” is a jolly juxtaposition to the prior score of “love is on the air tonight”, the latter being the song’s cartoon debut. it would be reused in cartoons such as the daffy doc, whereas “cause my baby says its so” was heard previously in rover’s rival.

birdie introduces a clever squirrel caricature of milton berle, whose routine gets interrupted by a little parrot named polly. polly is a take on eileen barton’s character, little jolly gillette, who was portrayed as the daughter of the show’s sponsor. polly and milton go through their act together, polly bluntly (yet innocently) announcing “my daddy says ya gotta let me sing ‘cause he’s a sponsor!” you can listen to real recordings of their banter here!

volney white’s animation of milton and polly is lively and jovial, constantly moving. milton energetically introduces us to our next star, pointing in the wrong direction and fixing it last second as he gestures towards a bird caricature of country singer wendell hall.

even if viewers don’t recognize the bird’s counterpart, they will most certainly recognize his voice--mel uses his foghorn leghorn voice for wendell “howl”. of course, foghorn wouldn’t debut for another 9 years, but that’s another story. the animation of the raucous bird is fun to watch as he extends his neck and wraps it around in coils around the microphone stand. random? yes, but fun nevertheless.

perhaps even more commendable is the staggering crowd shot that succeeds wendell’s scenes. the crowd is mirrored horizontally, but that doesn’t lessen the blow from how claustrophobic it is. wendell asks the audience to get out their songbooks and turn to page “22... no, page 44. uh, no, uh, page 28. uh, 42, uh, 36, uh, 45...”

wendell is transformed from an entertainer to an auctioneer, spitting out numbers at rapid pace as his crowd frantically tears through their songbooks. finally, he concedes. “oh, never mind. we won’t use the books.” off screen, the crowd roars in unison: “OH YES WE WILL!” with that, wendell is generously showered with a barrage of books, buried in the pile of rejected papers. the timing of the scene is comedically sharp and energetic, one of the more entertaining acts of the cartoon.

now, for the real song number, lead by goat and bear caricatures of billy jones and ernie hare (would a rabbit caricature be too on the nose?) respectively, animated by volney white. they march out onto the stage--er, tree trunk--and open the curtains to reveal a sing-along to the eponymous song. thus, the camera pans into the lyrics as everybody bursts into the all-too-earworm-causing song number.

as the crowd, ben birdie and walter finchell all lend their voices to the song, a fox caricature of fred allen sings “swanee river”, clashing with the unity of everybody else. in a nod to friz freleng’s toy town hall where the same routine was executed, a little bunny excitedly coos “ohhhh, mr. allen! you’re singing the wrong sooooong!” the fox bursts into everybody’s favorite Mel Blanc Yell as he repeats a frequent ‘30s catchphrase: “WHY DON’T SOMEBODY TELL ME THESE THINGS!?”

featured in the song is a seemingly interminable cast of celebrity caricatures, all introduced as the camera pans across the screen, each lending their voice to part of the song. some puns require more effort than others (dick powell as “dick fowl” rolls off the tongue better than al jolson as “al goatson”). caricatures include:

eddie cantor as eddie gander, sophie tucker as sophie turkey, w.c. fields as w.c. fieldmouse, dick powell as dick fowl, fats waller as fats swallow, deanna durbin as deanna terrapin, irvin s. cobb as irvin s. frog, fred macmurray as fred mcfurry, bing crosby as bing crowsby, al jolson as al goatson, ruby keeler as ruby squealer, lanny ross as lanny hoss, grace moore as grace moose, and finally lily pons as lily swans.

speaking of grace and lily, they’re both highlighted as they fight to out-perform each other, seeing who can sing the highest note. tashlin pulls of a rather intriguing camera move: as the pan settles on the two of them, the background changes. it’s a subtle maneuver, but smart thinking nonetheless--especially since the camera extends into a vertical pan. as both women fight to sing the highest note, their necks extend, both of them scaling high into the night sky, harmonizing on one final shrill note. they both crumple back into the stands, exhausted by their efforts. some fun exaggerated animation for sure--one wonders how much further this would have been pushed had this been tashlin’s second stint at WB rather than his first. his speed often rivaled, if not out-performed, tex avery’s.

birdie and finchell have a brief interstitial together before making way for a raven caricature of haven macquarrie (raven mcquandry). his sequence is almost jarringly short, but full of fun drawings and poses--the pose of him standing curtly with his arms crossed is awfully reminiscent of izzy ellis’ work under tashlin and later bob clampett in the mid ‘40s. mcquandry asks “do YOU wanna be an actor?”, parotting the name of his real life counterpart’s show so do you want to be an actor? the audience shouts “NO!” in unison, causing mcquandry to do a take and shrug dubiously. though the scene is only a few short seconds, the animation brings forth some much needed vitality.

next is a penguin caricature of joe penner, singing a hilariously out-of-tune rendition of “my green fedora”. the animation is reused from the cartoon of the same name (notice how he doesn’t have penguin feet!), which was also used in toy town hall. not a complaint, but more an observation--this is by far the most humorous performance of the song yet, sung by blanc rather than tommy bond.

another fun scene with some vivacious animation is a sequence featuring a mule caricature of martha raye (dubbed moutha bray), singing a cover of “how could you?”, which has been featured as an underscore in cartoons such as porky’s badtime story and its later remake, tick tock tuckered. raye’s large mouth served as prime material for caricatures, as we see here. the animation is snappy, fun, and vivid--she finishes her song by “swallowing” the camera, an old trick that beckons memories of the harman and ising cartoons of animation past.

an interesting trend in the ‘30s WB cartoons is the trend of playing with the iris, whether it was the closing iris out or an iris in between transitions. tex avery would consistently play with the final iris out on his cartoons, whereas directors such as friz freleng and bob clampett would use one as a transition between scenes. here, tashlin uses the “swallow the camera” technique as a segue for an iris in, tedd pierce’s falsetto squeaking “hello folksies!” as we’re introduced to a fish caricature of tizzie lish, a character played by bill comstock on al pearce and his gang.

though tizzie has long faded into obscurity (as has the entire community sing radio show), it’s still quite easy to appreciate pierce’s vocals and mannerisms as he portrays the character. it’s always a joy to hear him doing voices for cartoons--he’s never been my favorite writer on the crew, but he was an excellent talent as a voice actor. his squeaky deliveries, matter of fact deliveries “mix them up... are you mixing? my friends say i’m a good mixer. are you? or aren’t you?” as tizzie haphazardly dumps food items and their respective utensils into a bowl and prepares the meal are nothing short of hilarious. the timing is very well executed and can be appreciated regardless of background knowledge.

after humming a pitchy rendition of “the lady in red” while waiting for her concoction to bake in the waffle iron, tizzie removes the homemade waffle and discards it, instructing the audience “now take the ‘wiffle’ out and eat the iron. you must have iron in your system. or should you?” thus concludes tizzie’s act, certainly heightened in hilarity by pierce’s vocals and timing.

for the final act, ben birdie introduces a possum caricature of louella parsons, the host of the radio program hollywood hotel, which served as a way to advertise upcoming movies by featuring guest stars enacting some of the scenes. here, we have caricatures of jack benny (as jack bunny, the first of his many reoccurrences), mary livingstone (canary livingstone), and andy devine (andy bovine).

tedd pierce voices andy bovine, whose voice burlusqued not only in this cartoon, but to a greater extent in friz freleng’s my little buckeroo not even a year later. devine, a western star, was notorious for his scratchy, shrill voice which was rife for comedic opportunity. indeed, this scene here with pierce’s vocals is nothing short of hilarious:

the trio chronicle the prodigal’s return, in which bunny and canary coo over their baby son. out of the bassinet pops incongruously large bovine, who shrieks “HOWDY MAAAA! HI PAAAA!”, the sheer volume of his voice enough to blow both of his parents away and out of the scene. and, with that, the scene ends, red curtains colorized from porky’s romance marking the sequence’s end. short, sweet, to the point, and hilarious.

ending right where the cartoon began, the owl caricature of alexander woollcott bids us farewell, the iris closing in on the bell he rings as he exclaims that all is well.

like so many other cartoons i’ve reviewed, this is one that i slowly warmed up to upon rewatching it and typing out the review for myself. i didn’t entirely dislike the cartoon upon my first watch, but it’s undeniably dated and deserves its title as possibly the most dated cartoon. without further research, some of the jokes and caricatures (if not all of them) are difficult to appreciate. the animation has bursts of energy throughout the short, the highlights being the scenes featuring raven mcquarry and moutha bray, but otherwise remains relatively simple and conservative. tashlin does incorporate a few intriguing camera angles throughout the cartoon, but many other entries of his are far more cinematic.

however, despite all of that, this cartoon is not without its bonuses: art loomer’s backgrounds are stunningly gorgeous and rich, and as someone who loves the lush, painterly backgrounds of the 1930s, this is heaven to me. and, as i mentioned previously, tedd pierce’s scenes are great--the tizzie fish and andy bovine sequences are undeniable comedic highlights.

so, if you’re willing to dedicate time to put in the research for this cartoon, you’ll find it’s quite fascinating! i’m certain this was a much bigger gut-buster in 1937 than it is in 2020, but even then, this is a good cartoon for people such as myself who love to learn more information and seek out facts. as a result, i’d recommend it to people who fall into that category. if you’re just someone who wants a good laugh and a leisurely watch, there are more interesting cartoons that lie ahead. you won’t miss much by skipping it.

with that said, here’s the link!

#lt #the woods are full of cuckoos #looney tunes #tashlin #reviews #long post

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gotmilk5101520 · 3 years

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Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 14 Return of the Trollhunter

Now we begin the second half of season 1 (It’s actually season 2 but we don’t talk about that)

“Holy moly!”

Toby survives that.

“What the heck was-?”

“Huh?” We now return to your daily schedule bizarre adventures.

“Hop on!”

“Adios, fire cat”

“Hey, maybe save the jokes for when we aren’t gonna die” Well it sounded cool in his head.

“I can’t believe you took that stupid rock to your science class!”

“First, it’s not a rock. It’s a volcanic slag”

“And how was i suppose to know there was a flaming monster hiding in it?”

“You bought a magic rock off a troll named “Marvin the Monster Dealer” What did you think would happen, Tobes?” What happened before this moment?

“Um, Master Jim, you said this was a luminaire”

“When that is obviously an infernal hellheeti” Getting away with saying hell.

“Should i punch it?”

“Can i punch it?”

“Yes!” “No!”

“I was going to add, make sure you do not feed the fire by attacking it!”

“Opps” Punching doesn’t solve everything.

Jim uses Water Breathing. Tanjiro would be proud.

“Uh, guys, the fire hydrant-”

“Close enough”

Just keep walking.

Why is the opening still the same, even though Bular is dead now?

“Morning mom”

“Hi”

“Made your favorite breakfast”

“Sorry, kiddo, in a rush”

Should i be glad that Miraculous Ladybug doesn’t have something like this? It would be painful to watch. Fortunately, everyone in Miraculous Ladybug is stupid.

“I mean, it’s been like a month” Wait it’s been a month since last episode? So what have they been doing in a month?

“I don’t know how to fix this unless i tell her the truth”

“But if i do, they’ll send me to the crazy house” Hey, you told Claire, and she didn’t send you to the crazy house. Well she was tempted to do that cause you weren’t making any sense, but she didn’t.

“They fixed your tooth” Why did it take this long for Steve’s tooth to get fixed? I doubt all of the first half happened in a single month.

“I heard he was run out of town by the mob”

“I heard he got a mail-order bride and moved to North Korea”

“As if. Where do you think Mr. Strickler went, Jimmy-Jam. After all, he was dating your mom”

“Why does everyone keep bringing this up?!”

“Guys, this is my brother, and NotEnrique’s driving me nuts”

“You know how many times i have to change him?”

“He knows how to use a toilet”

“He chooses the diaper” “Yeah? Well at least you didn’t have to shove your hand in stinking diapers, and have it still stink to this day” “Ugh. Why does it still still stink? Have you washed your hands?” “Yes! 100 times since i got home with my cold McDonald’s French Fries” “Well excuse me, prince” “It’s well excuse me, princess!” “Are you two gonna kiss right now?” “Shut up Toby!”

“You spend so much time with Lake, you’re practically swimming in him” That’s what she said.

“We’re just friends. End of story” Wait, did- Did Claire just Adrien Agrested Jim? Goddamn it Adrien! Your Just a Friending made it’s way to Arcadia and got Claire. I hope you’re happy.

“Okay, people, who can tell me what happened in the year 1989?”

“No, seriously, i don’t remember. It was a crazy year” Let’s see. What video games came out that year.

“Really, Palchuk? That’s it. I’m dating your mom” “No, no, wait!”

Okay hold on. Why does it take a month for Claire to see Trollmarket? Out-of-Universe reason i can understand. You want to do a one month skip, and we all want to Claire’s reaction to Trollmarket. Could you imagine Claire going to Trollmarket off-screen? We get a few mentions of it here and there, but we never see her full reaction. I can understand the out of universe reason. But what i don’t understand is the In-Universe reason. Like Jim told Claire the truth a month ago. There’s no reason to keep anything a secret with her. Like why? A month to progress all of this? Cause i think it would take Claire a week at most to take it all in. Slower than when J- Never mind.

“Now, you’re gonna want to start drawing a semi-circle”

“Oh! You have it. Okay, never mind” Easier than me drawing an actually circle.

“It’s... It’s lively. Shit that’s Aja’s thing!”

He pets.

“Jim told me you helped him face Draal”

“And slay Bular” Wait Jim explained the entire first half of the season to Claire? Where are the fucking fanfics?

“And that Vespa!”

“Best birthday ever. Except for the part where Jim gets chased by a Stalkling” “That is something i want to forget”

“You’ve read A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore?”

“Volumes 1 through 47 It took me a while to decipher the symbols”

“But once i got past the Fifth Declension, i started to get the hang of it” It’s embarrassing when your (Not yet, almost, but not really, not for another season) girlfriend knows more about Troll Lore than you.

“She read the book!”

“She read the book! Master Jim, i love my daughter in law!” “Wait what?”

“She’s a flower” Mood.

Always have a drink before you continue.

“I accepted a human Trollhunter’

“And allowed the pudgy one to stay for moral support” Toby is the moral support boyfriend. Claire is the moral support girlfriend. See? Two different roles.

“But this? A third?”

“It’s an infestation!” Hey they’re not rabbits where they multiple every 5 seconds. Then again, Jim and Claire- Never mind again.

*Talks in Troll*

“She speaks Troll”

“And Trollmarket is honored to have you as well”

“Oh, Blinkous! If only the amulet had chosen such a learned and delightful fleshbag”

“Hey!” Trollhunter Claire au.

“That was awesome, Claire”

“Vendel loves you and he hates everyone!” I said it once, and i’ll say it again: Vendel is the most relatable character in this series.

Where did this light came from?

“Hopefully, this will give the girl some closure”

“She does understand why we cannot allow the bridge to open?”

“Well, you said it yourself, we’d be fools to open the bridge and risk letting Gunmar out”

“Right, Jim?”

“Oh, of course”

“We’d be crazy to do that“ Yeah... A crazy fool, heheheheh...

“Hey buddy, it’s your sis”

”Don’t you start thinking i’ve forgotten about you”

“We’re gonna get you back. I promise”

“See you soon, little chicharron”

*Cries in Troll*

“I need to share a word with our Trollhunter” That’s what it’‘s like when dad wants to talk to you alone. Then again, i don’t have a dad so...

“Hey, Draal? It’s strange, but i feel like i’ve seen you before. Have we met?” “Uh...”

“No. You must’ve mistaken me for someone else”

“Hate to be there when we have to rebuild Jim, right?”

“What a mess”

“Well, i just grossed myself out” We’ll see about that in Wizards.

“You fight in an arena surrounded by the remains of dead Trollhunters?”

“That is...”

“The most heroic thing i’ve ever seen. If their ghosts talked, then it be like Mulan”

“Sometimes, the heart leads you down paths you should not cross”

“How did you-?”

“Figure it out?”

“Your devotion to this girl is as obvious as Marinette’s feelings for Adrien. WHICH IS STILL DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!”

“But you know the danger”

“If you went in alone, you’d be killed”

“Which is why we will answer every call”

“You said i have to answer every call. Now-“

“Wait, did you just say “We”?”

“Aaarrrgghh and i discussed it. We knew you were going in, with or without our approval”

“But... If Claire’s brother is important to you, then he’s important to us”

“For folly or for fraught”

“We are a team”

*Cries in Troll again*

“Is this normal?”

“Nothing’s normal around here”

“Get used to it, sister” Translation: “Welcome to your new life”

“But only a Trollhunter can wield Daylight”

“We are Trollhunters!”

“Oh, man! Now, i’m dead!”

“That stupid Soothscryer killed me in the Forge” He thought Bular would kill him. But nope, instead it’s the fucking Soothscryer.

“What do you mean, he’s in the Void?”

“The Void sounds like a very empty word. A bad word” I hear the Void is very welcoming.

“Yeah. And are these happy ghosts we’re talking about here”

“Or Mulan’s ghost family?”

“He is now under the spiritual guidance of”

“Master Trollhunters”

“Ghost guidance counselors?”

“So, it is like Mulan”

“Wow! So trolls and ghosts exist”

“What’s next? A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“Fairies?”

“Fairies? Preposterous!”

“Fairies lost the war to the pixies centuries ago” Hate to meet these pixies, right?

“But if we’re going in, they said the only way we’re getting out alive is if we kill Gunmar” Well that’s a bigger lie than any lie Lila can make.

“And with Strickler gone, maybe we have a chance”

Speak of the devil. Or changeling.

If i ever seem dead, be sure to throw rocks at me to be sure.

“Who has awakened me?”

This is me and my sister.

“You know my name”

“A shame i will never know yours”

Angor Rot had to deal with the goblins wrath.

“My ring”

“My flesh”

“Yield to me!”

“For i wear the One Ring”

“You have killed thousands”

“You are chaos incarnate”

“And you”

“are...

“mine”

“Hahahahaha!”

The second half of season 1 (Actually season 2) is off to a great start.

Shit, what do i say that has something to do with next episode? Uh... See you next episode?

#trollhunters #milk watches trollhunters #tales of arcadia

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spiritmaiden23 · 3 years

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DASHBOARD GAME: CHARACTER DETAIL.

GENERAL.

NAME: Zelda. NICKNAME(S): Zel, Zellie, Zeldy, Zelduh(?), she’s happy with nicknames friends come up with something to keep in mind!! Her grace, Hylia reborn while not nicknames are still things she’s called by and prefers Not To Be unless they have to call her this. AGE: 18-19 claims to be that age when in actuality she’s pushing 1,000+ years old post game SPECIES: Seemingly human like any other Hylian/Skyloftian but is literally a mortal goddess

PERSONAL.

MORALITY: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil RELIGIOUS BELIEF: Standard Hyrule creation mythos, used to be more partial to the sect dedicated to Hylia in particular until she learns that she is Hylia. It’s a little weird to worship beings she once saw as her sister in arms and herself, so tough to say for sure but there is respect to be found for the gods of the old and the spirits/dragons of the realm. VICES: envy / greed / lust / gluttony / sloth / pride / wrath / despair VIRTUES: chastity / humility / charity / diligence / kindness / patience /temperance PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE: Protect the Triforce while creating a new life beneath the clouds! LANGUAGES KNOWN: Ancient form of Hylian. Good luck trying to figure out her dialect for you youngsters from another timeline wahahah! SECRETS: Aside from never coming to terms with her not crush on best friend? It’s anxiety for whether or not people will accept their new life on The Surface because like it or not the islands in the skies will all come back to the lands as intended once Demise is gone. Along with hiding the Triforce elsewhere because while she wants to believe that those she’s befriended and cared for wouldn’t take the ultimate power of the gods, she knows that the Triforce draws out the madness and greed hidden in humanity itself. It’s no surprise that the Triforce is back though and while it’s canon that the Skyloftians don’t know what the hell the Triforce is... it’s better to be safe than sorry, and keep in mind that there’s a lot more going on in The Surface maybe there are people out there who align themselves with Demise’s forces and still carry out his will in a way, or search for the power for their own benefit. It’s not all rainbow and sunshine and she’s highly aware of this hence why it’s a secret where it is. And well, she’s not ready to reveal that she’s Hylia reborn as mortal to others aside from her father, Link, and Groose with the last two already knowing the fact. SAVVIES: She’s pretty good at singing and playing the harp, perhaps not expert levels like Kina but still pleasant to listen to all the same! She’s strong enough to lift Link but not like, strong enough to lift Groose sadly. That said, she can use swords, preferring more light weighted and nimble blades but is handy with the more heavy ones too. Considering the fact that she is The Gods, her divine magic, while not as OP as the princesses due to not having the Triforce of Wisdom or blood of the sages that’s to come down the line later on, it is divinity itself and more than likely far more potent than any of the members of the royal family since she’s the one who started it all and is actually Hylia herself, so. Granted, without immortal proprieties to it and probably not as extensive as it was when she was a goddess but still something that’s enough to make satanic avocado turn back to satan so that should say a lot. And explains why people would be after her magic!

PHYSICAL.

BUILD: scrawny / bony / slender / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / pudgy / average / muscled HEIGHT: 5′3″ (160 cm) SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: VERY SELF INDULGENT HEADCANON COMING IN HOT but reincarnation scar on her chest, right above her heart, it’s a scar from her past life the finishing blow and mortal wound that Demise inflicted onto Hylia. Depending on the cut of the dress, you can see it; highly unlikely to see it with her goddess/spirit maiden dress and that pink dress she made when playing the role of the goddess for the wing ceremony. And also several moles/beauty marks like near her belly button, upper arm, and thigh! ABILITIES/POWERS: Light magic! And very powerful sealing magic too! As explained above. She doesn’t seem to have the same ESP powers that the princesses do on the account of not having the Triforce of Wisdom, her clairvoyance rather poor to the point that Link might be more clairvoyant than her this time around! But perhaps that’s a good thing ;v; RESTRICTIONS: She doesn’t have the same longevity as she did when she was a goddess, as such her magic is pretty limited to before she was reborn as a mortal. Though she can seal herself away she’s putting herself at a huge, huge risk since she’s at the mercy of everyone. She does not have cool telepathy powers like goth zel so major bummer for those who want 3 AM telepathic convos.

FAVOURITES.

FOOD: Veggie based dishes!! Pumpkin seems to be a big staple so it should come as no surprise that she adores the pumpkin soup from Lumpy Pumpkin or the fact that she loves wild veggie rice stuffed pumpkin! So long as it has no meat, she’s fine with eating whatever! DRINK: Water, juices, tea... maybe coffee... maybe... she doesn’t really need to drink it though honestly PIZZA TOPPING: ??? veggie mayhaps, again she’s not a fan of meat so.... COLOR(S): Lavender, pink, blue, green MUSIC GENRE: Folklore BOOK GENRE: Historical non-fiction, legends lost to time, fictional history for fun time reading, and fairytales about the Surface that holds grains of truth to it. MOVIE GENRE: ??? SEASONS: Fall. SCENT(S): Freshly baked goods, forest smells, fresh morning air

FUN STUFF.

SINGS IN THE SHOWER: YES WHO DO YOU THINK SHE IS?! LIKES BAD PUNS: You know what, it depends but for the most part she does! CURSE WORD: Goofball

TAGGED BY: no one!! TAGGING: whomst ever!!

#| piece of heart: headcanon.#dash games.#about.

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renaroo · 4 years

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Super Brothers (1/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: I have made no secret over the last few years just how disappointed i’ve been by the treatment and reintroduction of Chris Kent, aka Lor-Zod, in DC Comics. This little guy is one of my favorite comic book characters in existence, and it feels so dirty to see what has become of him. For a while, I’ve wanted to do a story that really tried to rectify the Rebirth version of Chris and the continuity at large with the core of the character I love, so this story is my attempt at that. I can only hope that I bridge that gap gracefully.

On the other end, I didn’t want to erase Damian or Jon and all the positives I have seen with their relationship and additions to the DCU at large. For their parts in this story, I want to focus on being in the middle school age range, all the confusion that entails, and open a dialogue about issues of gender and acceptance.

Obviously, these are a lot of heavy topics, and I am certain that despite my intentions, there can and will be things I mess up. My hope is, when that happens, you all can keep an open dialogue with me on the subjects. I want to learn and better myself and my portrayal of the issues.

That being said, please pay attention to the warnings throughout this fic. I will touch on dark subjects, and I don’t want anyone to read and feel unprepared for the subjects broached, which is part of the reason I chose to make an opening scene that is rather dark and disturbing on some levels. It won’t be ALL dark and uncomfortable, but I want to make this plea now rather than later.

I hope the story is still worth your read <3 Thank you for your time!

Chapter One: The Cost of Friends

Jon hates this.

At the absolute worst of times, his tiny body reminds him of just how unreliable it is. He can’t count on it, it’s not consistent — it’s not a Superman body no matter how hard he tries to fit it in as one. His limbs are gangly, his bones poke through pale kin, and his messy black hair curls untamed out from around his ears. It’s not good it doesn’t do what he needs it to do.

And at that moment, Jon’s terrified that it’s about to get himself and his best friend killed.

Ordinarily, being half-Kryptonian, Jon would easily burst through chains and bindings without a second thought. And he’s still strong, he tore through the ripe around his waist like it was taffy, but the chains keeping his legs and neck locked to the floor aren’t budging. And Jon’s getting progressively tired.

There’s something strange about this macabre carnival where he and Damian take the center ring. Of course, there is, because it’s Professor Pyg and he’s the stuff of nightmares. But beyond even that, the spotlights on them show with a heavy red glow that is making Jon sluggish and weak.

So weak that he’s less than a circus ring away from Damian and he still can’t get to him.

“Come now, come now, wait your turn,” the grotesque villain squeals in delight toward Jon. “Little Bat has been scheduled for this appointment for such a long time! You must be patient, my little bird. So patient. Everyone has their time with the professor.”

“Superboy!” Damian snarls from where he is tied up, flat and without his utility belt. He’s laying on a gurney that looks far from sanitary and, if Jon didn’t know better, it might even look like Damian is actually concerned. “Focus! Red sunlight radiation shouldn’t dull your brains as much as it does your strength!”

Blinking, Jon looks up to the spotlights again and can see, with what vague telescopic ability he still has, that there is something unusual about the spectrum of light coming from them. “Is that what this is?” he asks, voice small but filled with relief all the same.

“Oh, my, I cannot, must not, pass an opportunity to educate my subjects, inform them of their peril,” Professor Pyg pantomimes his way from the circus ring with Damian toward the center stage with Jon.

Immediately, Jon feels his body stiffen on instinct. He looks warily at the flabby, disgusting pig mask as the rest of the pudgy and unkempt professor makes his way toward Jon. He knows he should be focusing on getting free, but it’s a difficult thing to do when he’s being approached by unmitigated evil and brutality.

He isn’t sure how Damian gets his suit on every night if this is what Gotham patrols are really like.

“It is your body,” Pyg snorts and chortles.

A cold splash washes over Jon. “My body?” he repeats with wide eyes.

“Get away from him, Pyg!” Damian roars, his gurney shaking and rocking with struggle.

“It isn’t right, doesn’t fit on your bones,” Pyg bemoans, jerking out his hip and slithering his own arms around his chest and waist. He sways back and forth on his feet with a sashay of his hips. “It misses the shape of your spirit, the delicate frame of your face. And it’ll only get worse with age.”

Despite himself, Jon feels his struggle slow to a complete stop. His eyes widen as he looks at Pyg. There is a chill that travels from the base of his spine up, standing all his hair on end.

Deep inside of Jon’s chest, muscles tighten and his heart thunders. He feels a shiver move from his core. No oh no oh no oh no. HIs guts churn, his jaw trembles.

“Oh, you feel it, don’t you, that deep deep down,” Pyg continues, approaching. “You’re in the last years of it being passable, of being acceptable. Before your bones grind and the sinews snap into shapes thick and unbecoming of your gentle nature. I see what you are, in that deep deep down, because I am an artist who shapes and molds my subjects out from their souls.”

“You’re a monster,” Jon whispers, his voice giving up halfway through.

Pyg’s eyes shine with something dangerous through the outsides of his mask. He reaches forward and cups Jon’s cheek with his itchy gloved hand. Jon doesn’t even know when he got so close; when he started towering so tall over Jon.

“You’ll be one of my finest Dollotrons,” Pyg promises, rubbing his thumb just under Jon’s eye. “But your clay’s too strong, have to soften you up, get you nice and fleshy, then I’ll shave and I’ll cut and I’ll shape you right up.”

It doesn’t come off as a promise, so much as it does a threat, one that terrifies and unsettles Jon deep down within himself.

Jon’s mind draws a blank, his eyes wide and unfocused and he attempts, desperately, to come up with some intelligent response. But he can’t, not while a fear racks his every nerve and turns his muscles to stone.

It takes Jon completely and utterly by surprise when a familiar whoosh in the air flies overhead before glass crashes and electricity sparks. He catches a glance at the familiar shape of a Batarang lodged into the spotlight directly overhead.

He’s instantly overcome with relief.

Pyg releases his cheek and steps back wildly, looking around. “No! Not now! My art is not ready!” he cries out before letting loose some piglike squeals and sobs.

Looking toward Damian, Jon expects to see his friend released but is surprised to see Damian still trapped. He squints, uncertain of what’s happening when a second then third Batarang plunge into the remaining red sun spotlights.

“Batman?” Jon wonders out loud.

“Ugh,” Damian lets out in frustration before struggling with even more force against his bindings. “Overdramatic, sanctimonious, can’t believe—“

Dollotrons are racing onto the tent floor while Professor Pyg whines and bemoans his ultimate fate, but as the lights extinguish one by one, the shadows take on a new form.

She moves like a dancer, each step and hit against the army of zombified victims perfectly paced and timed. She is all in black, save for her golden accents and bat, and she spares not a single motion. A kick becomes a launch for a leap becomes a smack becomes a twirl becomes a fist to the face of the blubbering Professor. And each and every movement grows in its momentum.

Jon has never seen anything like this outside of super speed, and he certainly hasn’t seen it using the shapes and silhouettes of the shadows like a comforting show curtain. He has so many questions and so many concerns that he forgets himself and getting free. Even if he could, with his body still unresponsively slow and dulled from the radiation.

Damian, at the least, is in motion, finally getting one of his hands free and using the points of his gauntlet to slice through the leather of the other bindings. He is muttering to himself, annoyed and embarrassed based on the flush in his cheeks. It’s not a rare sight but it is unusual for Jon to see Damian this way around one of his multitudes of siblings.

The shadowy bat launches into a final attack, knocking out the last of the Dollotrons before pouncing on the escaping Professor Pyg like a hungry lioness.

With her full weight on Pyg, the Bat narrows her eyes and for the first time can really be seen by Jon as she reaches over and yanks Pyg’s disgusting mask off of his face. Her lips curl in displeasure, but it doesn’t take away from her fair features or the delicate, smooth control she has over her body.

“Wow,” Jon hears himself say as Damian reaches his side and begins pulling out a small blowtorch for the chains. “Is that your sister?”

“SHH!” Damian hisses.

Jon strains to listen to whatever is being said between the Bat and Pyg, but it gets him nowhere, only words at a time coming in clearly as his powers remain in flux. Regardless, Pyg is squirming and blubbering too much for it to matter anyway.

“Took her damn time,” Damian snarls, letting Jon lean on him as he glares toward his sister.

“She saved our lives,” Jon reminds him.

Damian’s nose curls. “Tt, debatable.”

Cassandra apparently finishes whatever minor conversation she was having with Pyg and flips him over, handcuffing him swiftly. She’s powerful and strong without losing her leanness or size, it mesmerizes Jon in a way. By the time she looks up at them, her expression has completely changed.

“You okay?” she asks them both.

“No thanks to you,” Damian says at the same time Jon gets out, “All thanks to you!”

Something approximating a smile crosses her face before she gets to her feet and reaches up to her ear. “Oracle. Done.”

Looking at Cassandra, Jon feels like he’s found yet another new hero. “Whoa, your sister’s awesome. And cool. And so in control,” Jon tells Damian, his strength returning. “You’ve got so many siblings, can I have your sister?”

“Father would be displeased, otherwise I’d say yes,” Damian huffs in that way that Jon cannot tell, for the life of him, if it’s sarcasm or not.

***

Damian watches as his friend flies off.

It took the better part of an hour as well as a stop at Big Belly Burger for Jon to feel up to the task, but the half-Kryptonian flies home after departing from them and Damian watches him go.

Cassandra, as it turns out, is also there. She leans back against her motorcycle — a sleek but redundant design, like any of the numerous other bat-themed motorcycles or vehicles any of their extended family has access to — and watches Damian more than Jon.

They haven’t had much time with just the two of them. Their paths rarely intersect. And Damian is pretty sure he prefers it that way.

His cheeks are still on fire from the embarrassment of being rescued by her.

“I would have gotten out,” he informs her, crossing his arms. “Pyg was distracted and far away from me. I was working on my restraints.”

She tilts her head at him, a frown tight on her face. “Distracted you, too,” she points out.

And Damian knows she’s right about that, he was distracted. Just the look on his friend’s face, the growing horror and dread. Jon isn’t used to the types of villains that Gotham can throw at people, the psychological toll it takes. Damian is, or at least he likes to think he is, but Jon still can be scared and surprised.

But what looks crossed Jon’s face at that moment were unexpected even to Damian. He had never seen anything like it. Jon had been soaking up every word and phrase like it had been ripped straight from his dreams.

It was enough that it frightened Damian for his friend, and he didn’t even know why.

Over the course of an hour and a Big Belly Burger, Jon had refrained from mentioning a single thing about it.

That, too, was very unlike Jon.

Such things could be dwelled on at another time, though. Damian had the pressing matter at hand of his own reckoning. And his so-called sister.

Without looking up to meet Cassandra’s gaze, Damian kicked at the ground. “What are you going to tell father about tonight?” he asks.

“Truth,” Cass answers unhelpfully.

Gritting his teeth, Damian looks back at her, eyes narrowed and angry. “That’s not fair, you know,” he growls at her. “You never come around, never work with any of the rest of us, and then you pop in and judge us from on high. No wonder father speaks highly of you. You’re just like him.”

Her brows come together in a way that wrinkles her forehead. It’s hard to read her expression, even with her modified mask and hood. “I’m not,” she says. Her words sound final, but she apparently thinks better of them and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Judging you. I’m not.”

Damian looks her over. She hasn’t moved from her bike but her arms have dropped to her side. She is looking at him rather intently and it makes him want to squirm in his combat boots.

“Tt, sure you’re not,” he finally snaps back. “You’ll still tell father that I was captured by Professor Pyg.”

“Yes,” she said too casually.

“And that I let Superboy get captured, too,” Damian glowered more at that one, his eyes rest on the asphalt beneath his feet. He kicked again.

Cassandra paused slightly longer with that one.

When her hand snaked its way onto his shoulder, Damian flinched bodily. He slapped her hand away and twisted around to get away on instinct. He hated that — no one should be able to sneak up on him. He was trained by League of Assassins, he had been prepared since before he could speak to be on guard.

But Cassandra had, too.

She looked at him passively. “Not your fault, happens,” she said, in reference to Pyg.

“That’s not what father will think,” Damian snaps.

“I’ll tell him,” she promises.

Damian stares at her for a moment, sizing her up and considering all the ways he could make her more respectful to him. But it fizzles out quickly. He knows, as much as he resists the thought, that he isn’t upset with her.

He’s upset with himself.

“In the League, they trained us that there is a cost to every relationship formed,” Damian informs Cassandra like she doesn’t intuitively know from her own history. “Partnerships, even necessary ones, would cost you heavily. They could be deadly. And more relationships than strictly necessary should be avoided. All this family and friendship that is just around me all the time now. I don’t want to pay the cost for them.” He looks to the skies where Jon once flew. “I don’t want my friend to pay for them either. It’s not worth it.”

Cassandra stays quiet, but she places her hand on Damian’s shoulder again. He doesn’t attempt to knock it off this time.

“Sometimes it is,” she tells him.

But Damian isn’t so sure. Especially not hearing it from her. Cassandra does not work with others to the same degree as the rest of their family. She doesn’t go to school. She doesn’t join teams outside of father’s pet projects. She doesn’t operate in a daily partnership like Damian has with Grayson or father.

She seems to be living by those lonesome standards that the League taught Damian. And all anyone can do is praise her.

What sort of lesson is Damian supposed to learn from that?

***

Jekuul feels oppressively hot outside of the crystal palace.

Lor has watched his parents stand, looming in the skies, over the land’s natives as they constructed the palace for them. He watched as their eyes glowed threateningly each time the native population faltered, and he remembered how easily their bones cracked and snapped when corrected by the general and his lieutenant. It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying to witness.

Inside the palace, things are smooth and temperature regulated. The pantries are stocked with foods far greater than anything Lor had tasted within the Phantom Zone, but still foreign and sometimes unexpected.

If he questions what was on his plate, he is quickly reprimanded.

So he doesn’t ask.

It should be easy, if not simple, to follow the rules at this point. Stay in the palace, eat when told without questions, listen to his lessons from the Sunstones without fault.

He is the Last Son of Krypton, and he is supposed to inherit everything the universe owed them for their lost greatest civilization. All he has to do is stay in place, not ask questions, don’t be, don’t move.

But he was not born on Krypton, nor was he born on Jekuul — New Krypton, by his father’s declaration — he was born in the perilous depths of the Phantom Zone. A prison.

Inside of the Phantom Zone, there was no movement, there were no questions, there was not being or doing or screaming or aging — that had been the only thing he’d ever existed and it was torturous.

Outside of the Phantom Zone, he thought, things are supposed to be different. He is supposed to move and change and grow, he thinks.

So even though there is every reason not to leave the palace, Lor-Zod leaves in the oppressive heat and feels the sun against his Kryptonian skin as he flies under the two yellow suns.

As he moves across the lands, the violet skinned natives of Jekuul fall to their knees and avert their eyes. They whisper and whimper in a tongue completely foreign to Lor-Zod and it feels, well. It feels good.

Lor-Zod knows that they react this way to his parents, but to have even adults of the alien race fall in reverence to him, he feels more powerful. He feels like the Last Son of Krypton that his father insists he is.

He wonders, vaguely, if it is something his father would like to see.

Deep down, Lor hopes so. Because it is easy for Lor to imagine what his father would think or say when he doesn’t like something Lor has done. He has no concept of what would happen when he makes his father pleased.

He is nearly at the end of the primitive village when Lor’s eyes fall on an unusual sight.

One of the Jekuul natives, a young female no older than Lor and having not yet earned her yellow stripes, stands and stares up at Lor. She doesn’t drop to her knees or avert her eyes.

For a few seconds, Lor continues flying, arching his head back to watch for the girl to finally do as she is supposed to but she never does.

Aggravated and surprised, Lor turns in his flight path and descends, landing promptly in front of the girl.

“Why aren’t you kneeling?” he asks before his feet are even secure.

She stares at him, head tilting. Her black eyes are large and reflective, Lor can see himself in them.

He huffs at her, crossing his arms like he has seen his father do so many times before. “Don’t you speak Kryptonian?” he sneers.

After a quiet moment, she scratches at her head and looks around. That seems to answer Lor’s question for him.

“You’re supposed to kneel,” he groans. “Look, like this,” he says, bowing down to one knee and lowering his head. He’s seen so many others do it before.

Then he hears laughter.

Lor looks up and sees the girl covering her mouth as she giggles before she gets down on both her knees and dips her body down in a silly, teetering display. A mockery. Then she gets back to her feet.

“No!” Lor snaps, getting back to his own feet and grabbing her shoulders.

At first, she stiffens, surprised, and looks at him wildly. Her hands grip onto his wrists and she seems afraid.

“Like this,” Lor repeats, then pushes down on her. He dips with her, down to the ground on their knees. But when they both lower their heads, they immediately smack foreheads.

It feels like nothing to Lor, but for the girl, she jolts back and begins rubbing at her skull.

Instinctively, just like he follows his parents’ motions, Lor reaches up and rubs at his own head. They stare at each other as they both sit there on their knees, rubbing their heads.

Then, despite himself, Lor giggles.

The girl giggles.

They both giggle.

Once the giggles subside, they are both sitting on their knees in the dirt and staring at each other expectantly. They don’t speak the same language. They aren’t remotely the same and, yet, Lor has never felt more of a need to communicate with someone in his life.

He points at his chest, at the house emblem emblazoned on his armor. “Zod,” he tells her. “Zod,” he repeats.

For a moment, the girl is quiet, absorbing his words, then she points at her chest and the purple skin. “Jekuul,” she says.

“No, not what you are,” he mutters, catching on quickly. “I’m not…” He is a Zod, though. Maybe more than he is a Kryptonian, if only in his own mind. He sucks in a breath and tries again. He points at his face. “Lor,” he tells her.

Understanding fills her expression and she points at her own face. “Ti’ahl.”

And, maybe for the first time, Lor feels a wide smile cross his face.

From that moment on, their afternoon is filled with delight.

Ti’ahl points at every structure, every creature, every plant with words and phrases that will not stop saying until Lor repeats. Repeatedly, Lor picks Ti’ahl up easily, flies her from location to location, lifts up every boulder and animal they come across as she claps in delight.

It’s thrilling — and Lor laughs more than he has ever laughed before in his life.

By the time the second sun begins to set, a chill quickly crosses the lands, and Lor can see Ti’ahl gain a shiver. It makes Lor feel bad to see Ti’ahl uncomfortable in any way.

“Hold on,” he calls to her at one point, slowing her run through the grass. He reaches up and carefully unclips his cape from his armor. Grinning, he floats toward Ti’ahl and drapes her with the heavy fabric.

After Lor ties the cape closed over her neck, Ti’ahl looks down and touches the knot. A funny look crosses her face and she looks at Lor.

Ti’ahl leaps onto a nearby rock, standing tall and crossing her arms. “ZOD!” she declares herself.

Realizing what is happening, Lor giggles and drops obediently to his knees. “I kneel!” he laughs.

At first, Ti’ahl joins his laughter, but then she becomes strangely quiet.

Confused, Lor looks up at her. “Ti’ahl?” he asks before realizing that a shadow has crossed over them both.

Heart sinking, Lor twists around and sees his father, arms crossed, standing over them both. He looks displeased.

“Father,” Lor gets out, voice thin.

“Is this how I find the Last Son of Krypton? Kneeling before his lessers?” the general snarls. He drops his hands to his sides as Lor begins to stand up and easily kicks Lor back down. “If you lower yourself in the dirt for a mongrel child, you will stay there for your leader, do you understand?”

Breath catching in his throat, Lor nods. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“To the palace. Immediately,” General Zod orders, his gaze carrying over to Ti’ahl. “There will be a price to pay for this, Lor-Zod. Let us see if you are grown enough to pay it.”

Lor cannot bring himself to look at Ti’ahl as he leaps to his feet and takes off in the air. His blood is rushing to his ears, tears building up in his eyes even before he reaches his top speeds of flight.

It isn’t until he was home that he realized he had left his cape.

#Jon Kent #Chris Kent #Superman #Superboy #Damian Wayne #Cassandra Cain #writing #super fic #Super: Super Brothers #Professor Pyg #General Zod

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chernobog13 · 4 years

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1969 was an interesting year in Japanese cinema, as the public was presented with distaff versions of two extremely popular characters: Zatoichi, the Blind Swordsman, and Tange Sazen.

The first was The Crimson Bat series from Shochiku Studios. The series stars Yoko Matsuyama as Oichi (referered to several times in the series, even by herself, as “blind Oichi” or “Oichi the blind”). Strangely enough, she is never called Crimson Bat in any of the films, and that name only appears on the international versions of the films. There is much speculation as to where the name came from, although Oichi does carry a red sword cane, and her costume through most of the second of the second film is a red kimono.

While based on a manga series, the films are clearly a response to the popularity the Shinato Katsu Zatoichi film series, produced by Daiei and still running strong at the time.

Other than the obvious difference between the characters in that Oichi is female, she is also given the rather sexist weakness for always pining for love, and usually falling for one of her male adversaries. While that might make sense in the first film before she becomes an expert swordswoman and learned to be self-reliant, it makes absolutely no sense in the later films when she’s become a bounty hunter.

Another big difference between the two: Zatoichi is always portrayed as scruffy and looks like he’s spent most of his life living on the road. Shintaro Katsu was also kind of pudgy, and certainly - at this point in his career - could not be accused of having matinee idol looks. Oichi, on the other hand, is just flat out gorgeous. Her make-up and, clothing and hair always look like she’s ready for a modeling gig. And she has the super-power of always keeping her hair perfectly coiffed, either while battling dozens of opponents or falling off cliffs (which she does a couple of times),

There were only 4 films in the series, the first 3 released in 1969 and the last in 1970. The following year Yoko Matsuyama returned to the role in a TV series that ran for 25 episodes. Ms. Matsuyama also went on to marry Teruo Tanashita, the artist who created the original manga introducing Oichi, the lucky guy. In America I guess the equivalent would be William Moulton Marston or Harry G. Peter (the creators of Wonder Woman) marrying Linda Carter.

I enjoyed the movies despite the annoying flaw with Oichi’s character, but I guess the filmmakers thought it was necessary A: because she was a woman (that’s just my assumption; I don’t agree with that as a valid reason); or B) to differentiate her more from Zatoichi.

I haven’t been able to locate the TV series yet, but would love to check it out if I do.

The second distaff character making the scene in 1969 was Lady Sazen, the female version of Tange Sazen.

Tange Sazen is a one-armed, one-eyed ronin who was introduced in 1927 as a minor character in a serial story about Ooka Tadasuke, an actual historical person who was a magistrate in Eo (Tokyo) during the Shogunate. Tange Sazen was so popular with the readers, however, that three films were produced by three different studios featuring Sazen as the hero. These were so successful that a new story, with Sazen as the hero, was serialized in the newspapers.

Tange Sazen went on to have a long career in both print, film, and eventually TV. There were several film series, sometimes from competing studios released in the same years, released in Japan, The character has been portrayed by several notable Japanese actors. The ones most familiar to most Western fans who be Ryutaro Otomo (Orochimaru from The Magic Serpent), Kiinosuke Nakamura (Itoo Ogami in the Lone Wolf and Cub TV series), and Tetsuro Tanba (Tiger Tanaka in You Only Live Twice, and one of Japan’s most prolific actors - the man never turned down a role!).

The character is so popular because, like Zatoichi, he is considered an outsider from society due to his handicap, but is nonetheless a tireless champion of justice and the downtrodden.

Lady Sazen and the Drenched Swallow Sword from Daiei Film stars Michiyo Okusu (billed as Michiyo Yasuda), who - despite the fake scar over her right eye - is almost too pretty to be taken seriously in the role. Her character’s real name is O-kin, but people call her “Lady Sazen” because of her similarity with Tange Sazen (which, to digress, is kind of meta: in the world of this film does Tange Sazen actually exist, or is he a fictional character that O-Kin resembles?).

Like her male counterpart, O-Kin loses her arm and eye due to treachery. She trains herself to become a master swordswoman, and is quick to butt in when she finds injustice. The main plot of the film involves a daimyo (feudal lord) who is a rabid sword collector trying to get O-Kin’s fabled Drenched Swallow sword for himself. It turns out the lord is also the one responsible for O-Kin’s disfigurement and the death of her family when she was younger.

Ms. Okusu/Yasuda does a wonderful job with what is traditionally a male role. Despite her beauty, she does her best to scowl menacingly, talk gruffly, and be prickly in the best Tange Sazen fashion. She did a great job at Sazen’s signature move, which is drawing her sword while holding the scabbard in her teeth. She does well in the sword fighting scenes, especially with the difficulty of having to do so with her right arm tucked behind her back.

This was not the first time a female version of the character had appeared on the silver screen. Thirty years earlier Komoka Hara gave audiences a Lady Sazen in at least one, some sources say maybe two film. The main difference there, at least as far as I can ascertain, is Ms. Hara played Tange Sazen as a female character, instead of Ms. Okusu/Yasuda’s playing a woman who is similar to Sazen, but isn’t actually Tange Sazen.

The film’s co-star is Kojiro Hongo, who was one of Daiei’s matinee idols, and many fans may recognize him from a few of the Showa-era Gamera films. There’s also the usual stable of supporting actors you’ll find in every Daiei film from that period, many who had appeared in all the Zatoichi films.

Sadly, there was no follow-up to this film. I don’t know whether it was because the film did poorly at the box office, or because the audience did not accept a female Sazen.

Or maybe it fell victim to Daei’s impending collapse. The advent and popularity of television was killing off the film industry in Japan at that time. By the early 1970s the studio system as it was known in Japan had disappeared, studio and film budgets were drastically slashed, and Daiei was bankrupt and out of business.

Nevertheless, this was another film I enjoyed. It actually shares a spot on my DVD shelves with my other Tange Sazen films, whereas all others I meticulously store in alphabetical order.

#Crimson Bat #Lady Sazen #Tange Sazen #Japanese swordswomen

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writing-the-end · 4 years

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WS Chapter 41: Red Tide

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

Angst time! Everyone gets their turn being ruined by the hellspawns. A lot of this is heavily inspired by my time and work as a marine science major- real red tides suck and it hurts to breath. If anyone wants information or a place to help stop damage or reef relief I have some great contacts and charities to talk to!

Either way, have a great angst trip!

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Warning: This chapter contains angst and other general sad themes, including minor character death and family loss. Please take care and enjoy the story.

Ecto pulls her scarf over her nose and mouth, trying to filter out the scent of dead fish and poison that wafts in the air from the sea. The water is discolored, or at least the different color from other oceans the wanderers had traversed. Whereas the waters there were blue, crystal clear in a way that made the deep sea look shallow, the ocean here is a rusty red color, so murky and discolored that she can’t even see her own feet as she stands at the edge. Other oceans were vibrant and teeming with sea life, fish darting between coral so bright they almost looked fluorescent. In Red’s home, the fish only float at the surface. The coral is bleached, a ghostly white haunting the currents. Skeletons being torn apart by the poison blooming in the water.

“Is it always like this?” Ecto asks Avon, passing the water breathing crystal back to her. Red has taken point, swimming through the murky waters. Guiding the other two deeper.

Avon clutches the blue gem close, taking a deep breath. But it’s like breathing in smoke. No amount of magic can get rid of the toxic taste left in her mouth. “No...no, it was beautiful before. You could see forever, or at least until an island blocked your vision. This has to be the work of the hellspawns.”

Ecto’s fists clench at the mention of Blu. Ecto should have been stronger, should have defeated the hellspawn when he challenged her. What she wouldn’t give to knock that smug ass grin off his coy, scarred face. “Do they get some kind of joy, watching us suffer? And why us, what do they have against us?”

Ecto stops dead in the sea, staring at the structure that suddenly appears in the obscured water. The ocean monument is massive, thick smooth pillars protruding free of the sand and gravel below. The pillars support the monument’s terraced wings, arches of sea lanterns and prismarine wrapping around the three as they enter the mail hall of the monument.

Red disappears into the mouth of the structure, but Avon grabs Ecto before she can follow. “I...don’t think things will be good in there. Last time I was here, you couldn’t swim anywhere without having half a dozen guardians staring at you. It’s completely unprotected now.”

“Do you think they’re all dead?” Ecto whispers. Is Red’s entire family gone? Has she lost everything, just like Ecto and Avon.

“I don’t know. There’s only one way to find out.” Avon takes a deep breath while holding onto Ecto and the crystal Scar gave, then finally follows Red inside.

The halls of the monument are dimly lit, algae growing over the sea lanterns. The water hardly moves, stale and lacking in oxygen. Most guardians are unmoving, already dead or drawing near that point. Their spines are tucked close to their bodies, orange barbs muted and sickly. Avon swims closer, nudging the tail of one guardian. The fin has rotted away to the base of the tail, making it impossible for it’s pudgy body to propel itself forward. She backs away, feeling it’s clouded eyes gaze off beyond her. Searching for the end of the illness. Be it death or relief.

Red ricochets off a wall, her breath heavy with fear and worry. So much of her family is dead or dying, even the prismarine walls have lost their luster in the poisoned waters. She sprints down the halls, ignoring the calls of her friends to wait up. She only halts when she reaches the main chamber.

The last time Red was here, her entire family gathered to say goodbye. The guardians wished her luck on her journey, and she played with guardian guppies one last time. She also promised Mama Gummi she would return. Now she’s beginning to wish she never left, or never came back. If she never left, she’d have never let any of this happen. If she never returned, then she wouldn’t have to face the truth. A guardian swims into the chamber, nuzzling a clutch of eggs tucked into a corner. The fish struggles to keep itself right, floating towards the blue ceiling. It turns, looking with tired and sickly eyes to see Red.

"Where is she? Where's Mama Gummi?" Red's voice cracks and echoes off the prismarine walls. The guardian's mourning gaze turns upward, to the Elder Guardian's chamber. Red rises up, nearly hitting his head against the pillars in his rush to reach Mama Gummi. It could already be too late, but for Red every second feels like it counts.

The elder guardian lays nestled in a bed of kelp, her massive body rising and falling with each haggard breath. Massive purple fins lay helpless against the floor, tail decayed and disintegrated. Her massive spines are retracted, too weak to even defend herself. And she’s not alone.

Selene looks over, relief filling her somber gaze. “She’s very weak.”

Red darts to Mama Gummi’s side, wrapping her small embrace around the massive guardian. The matriarch of the entire ocean monument, great grandmother to every guardian that calls this place home. And the one who took on the challenge of raising an orphaned kipling. Red nuzzles her face into the rough scales of her adopted mother, feeling warm tears sting at her eyes. Slipping away into the seawater, invisible and unseen. “Look, Mama Gummi. I kept my promise. I came back.”

A low moan echoes the lair walls, and the elder guardian opens her bloodshot eye. Unfocused vision searches for Red, finding the little kipling curled close to its body. Red squeezes close to Mama Gummi, shutting her eyes and pretending it’s not the disaster that surrounds her. Red feels Mama Gummi’s breath, rising and falling with her chunky body. It’s getting shallow, but Red pretends that it’s like any other day, any other night Red.

As a child, Red was afraid of a lot. The sound of thunderstorms, the low growl of drowned, when sea lanterns would lose their luster and turn the halls into dark caverns. When monsters plagued Red’s dreams or called themselves his friends. Most guardians didn’t dare disturb the elder guardian in her slumber. She wasn’t afraid to use her spines on a nuisance. But Red would sneak into her lair, and snuggle close to the round fish. No matter how late at night, Mama Gummi would welcome the tiny child into her lair and blanket Red with her massive grey tail.

Now, Red just wishes for the simpler days. When monsters were fake and adventures were just make believe. When the world was small and balanced, and Red thought he knew everything. “Please Mama Gummi. Don’t go. I...I have so much to tell you. I saw so many things.”

The elder guardian turns her gaze to the three hovering at the entrance of her lair. Selene wavers beside Ecto and Avon, giving Red the space she knows she needs. The three look at each other, all their knowledge passed without a word needing to be spoken. There’s nothing they can do to help. Mama Gummi brushes her withered tail over Red, inviting her to spin the tale.

And so Red does. She tells about traveling to new biomes, about the day they met Ecto. Of the storm, and the infinity portal. She regales the time they spent in Area 77, the strange new friends she’s made in a completely different world. She laughs through the times she nearly blew herself up, or watched her friends make silly and stupid mistakes. She sniffles through their unceremonious exit from a backwards village. She tries her best to explain snow to Mama Gummi, who has never seen it before. How soft and cold it is, perfect for making projectiles to throw at unsuspecting people. She whispers through the painful memory of Jeane’s death, realizing that she is also losing her family. And she’s losing her home, as she remembers Ecto’s entire life being covered in snow and ice. Red tries her best to describe Blu, and what she learned when they returned to the hermits. But the more she explains, the harder it becomes for Red to talk.

“And...And now I’m here. I’m back home. It was a little longer than a blink of an eye, wasn’t it?” Red sniffles, looking at the mass of scales and spines before her. Each breath is shallower and shallower. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you guys needed me most. I should’ve-”

Red gets a mouthful of fin, Mama Gummi’s way of silencing his apologies. He tries to start again, but closes his mouth when it’s met with a pointed glare by one large eye. “You’re right. I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”

A soft flutter of muted purple spines lets Red know that Mama Gummi is happy. She lifts her fin, rotted down to the juncture of scale to membrane, and offers one last pat on Red’s head. Weak, but still as motherly as ever. The water fills with a shrill whine, a sudden gasp out followed by a weak sigh. The fin grows heavy, dead weight on top of Red.

Nothing, no one moves in the lair of the elder guardian. Despondent silence captures the whole monument, the sickened ocean knowing that a great beast has passed on. Selene swims close, wrapping her arms around her love. Trying to offer comfort that has been taken away from Red.

Red squeezes away from the touch. She doesn’t want anyone’s embrace except Mama Gummi’s. But she can’t have that. Ever again. Avon reaches out, but Red skirts away from any of her friend’s touch. She doesn’t want any of this. She just wants to get as far away from here, as far away from the remains of a life destroyed. Red disappears down the prismarine halls, faster than any of her friends could follow.

By the time they reach the glowing arches in the murky open ocean, he’s long gone. Lost to his own grief.

#wandering stars #ecto #red #avon #minesona #mineblr #minecraft #mcsona #minecraft persona #writing #cw character death #cw red tide #cw angst

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metaborderlines · 3 years

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Sam and Cait Before Their Guard Hairs Went Up: Early Interviews

“Sometimes Sam and I look at one another after these scenes and we’re like, ‘what did we just do?’” Caitriona Balfe told an interviewer [Tara Bennett, The Making of Outlander: Seasons One and Two] in the show’s early days, before the actors learned to answer questions with less candor. They’ve replied, season after season, to “Will there be more [sex scenes]?” with the requisite “These scenes need to earn their place in the narrative.” They’ve said too: we try to make each time different.

When I plunged into Outlander during the Plague Year, I fed my new obsession with the first podcast I discovered. On Outlandercast, a thirtysomething couple, Mary and Blake, provided comfortable background chat, like having a friend who likes to talk about your favorite books and shows sitting at your kitchen counter while you clean up. They discussed sex scenes, of course they did, because Outlander people are fixated on depictions of sex on this show. Me too! Are we not fascinated, can we talk without Dr. Freud getting in the way? Nevermind, you may sit in, Herr Dockter, your insight should be valuable. Projection, eh? Jamie and Claire via the actors who portray them tell us things we want to know about sex. How it works over time, for a couple who’ve been together from their twenties through their fifties, give or take 20 years off in the middle for time travel. Anyway. The podcast guy, Blake, dismissed the Season 5 sex scene, a famous one “from the buuuiks” with Claire, hot-flashed from maybe-perimenopause, perched on a windowsill for the cool breeze but don’t worry, Jamie will never let her go. Yeah, yeah, said Blake, a pudgy guy in T-shirt and a Red Sox cap, these two, they never quit, I get it, let’s move on. There’s the rub (“Where is your mind going?” as the actors often say when asked [giggly] questions at press events). “I get it,” Blake claims but he doesn’t. Sam and Cait as Jamie and Claire tell us things we want to know because they show the complexity. The truth is in the details.

Richard Brody in the New Yorker writes, “The trouble with the sex in most movies is…the stultifying failure of erotic imagination…the characters [lack] the sexual complexity of any ordinary person.” The writers’ shorthand “they have sex” usually means lots of bumps and grunts and camera work to slither over relevant body parts. They leave out the steps, as Brody enumerates, from “the restaurant to the car to the door, to the first kiss…to the subtleties of tender empathy that make the difference in each encounter.” Outlander fills in the blanks. A critic on the oohlo.com site (Cindy Davis, I wish she had a podcast) draws a parallel with Fred and Ginger who “sacrificed their bodies in the dance,” as Sam and Cait do in their love scenes.

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precuredaily · 4 years

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Precure Day 185

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 37 - “Operation Healthy Coco” Date watched: 14 May 2020 Original air date: 21 October 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/Sc5B6vA Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

what has been seen cannot be unseen

I might get some crap for this but I don’t particularly like this episode either. I think Bloody just had an absolutely fantastic introduction so everything after it for a while is going to feel a bit lackluster. Not to say it doesn’t have some great moments, but.... well, you’ll see.

The Plot

Coco has been scarfing down the cream puffs lately, and the girls are starting to notice when he struggles to push himself up. He appears very rotund as a fairy, but transforms human and says he’s fine. However, Nuts lifts his friend’s shirt to prove otherwise.

make of that what you will

We are never shown exactly what he looks like, but the girls responses tell us all we need to know. Urara in particular is fairly blunt, saying he had a fat and pudgy stomach. Nozomi is pretty okay with it, but she changes her tune when Karen and Rin point out that the problem is his diet and lack of exercise, not just getting chubby. Milk takes charge and puts him on a diet.

Over in Nightmare, Kawarino offhandedly mentions that Gamao was useless, which disturbs Bunbee because he didn’t realize his last employee had been so carelessly killed. Hadenya tells him to get over it and then sets out.

Coco’s diet is going well, except for all the times he tries to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to grab some cream puffs, or sneak some into his lunchbox. He gets outright depressed when he can’t eat some, so the girls conspire with Milk to make him a special meal. It goes about as well as the last time they tried to cook together. One night, Coco sneaks out of his room to the kitchen for some cream puffs, and instead finds the best gag in the episode: the fridge is completely empty except for an exercise wheel.

I just imagine Nuts going through the effort to empty the fridge and store all the food somewhere else, all so he could put this wheel in there when Coco inevitably tried to sneak a bite. So yes, Nuts shows up and says getting exercise is important as well as he demonstrates the use of the wheel. A+ television here.

Another day, Coco is out walking and smells the all-too familiar scent of choux creme. He finds a food truck selling them, and the sweet lady who runs it (who is definitely not Hadenya) offers him free samples!

He almost takes it, but he thinks about the girls, Milk, and even Nuts all working hard to help him eat more healthily, and refuses. Hadenya wolfs down the plate and then turns the food truck into a Kowaina, and throws Coco into the cabin, high enough where he’d hurt himself if he jumped. The girls catch wind of this and show up to fight. They feel their hands are tied because they don’t want to hurt Coco, and Hadenya says she’ll give him back if they give her the Dream Collet. She further taunts them by saying Coco ate cream puffs. However, what is supposed to be a damning claim gets brushed aside because aside from not being true, the girls know Coco has a stronger will than that, and he wouldn’t break his vow like that. Dream persuades Coco to jump so that she can catch him, and then they safely take out the Kowaina.

Back at Natts House, the girls surprise Coco with the fruits of their labor: special vegetarian cream puffs! Coco can see the burns and cuts on their bodies as a sign of how hard they worked so he tries one, and it’s delicious! But then Milk steps in to say he shouldn’t have any more or he’ll relapse on his diet, and tries to eat the rest. Karen points out that Milk has been eating an awful lot lately, and has gotten rather chubby herself. Everyone agrees Milk should get some exercise as well, and the last scene of the episode would be great for the “Inhuman Anime Girl Sounds” Twitter, as Milk lets out a cry.

The Analysis

If you’re not aware, Japan is a very skinny culture, with an obesity rate of about 4% (compare to the US’s 40+%), and in 2008 the federal government enacted the Metabo Law which set a universal maximum acceptable waist measurement for men and women ages 40 to 75, with financial penalties for local governments and companies that had large levels of noncompliance. I couldn’t find a whole lot of information on stigma against overweight people in daily life, but in general the only socially acceptable fat people are sumo wrestlers. All of that is to say that, while they do mostly treat Coco’s weight as the butt of the joke, there is some progressive thinking going on as well, in that their concern is less purely that he’s getting fat as much as it is the fact that he’s not eating a balanced diet. It’s an important distinction to make, and the driving force of the rest of the episode is getting him to eat healthy, not JUST losing weight. It’s not a bad premise but I don’t think they make the most of the idea, the episode is largely comprised of gags about Coco trying to sneak a bite and being told “no”.

Most notably, Nozomi doesn’t seem very bothered by Coco’s weight gain. She takes it in stride, saying a little fat isn’t so bad. It’s only when they mention his unhealthy diet that she says “oh no that’s not okay” and that’s a pretty good way to take it. After all, if he’s chubby, there’s more of him to love, but if he’s not healthy, then he may die an early death. Perspective.

Now, it seems like they writers are trying to drawing a comparison between Coco and Hadenya with her remarks about eating everything, as if eating makes you a bad person, or being fat is evil, but...... it just doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense. She’s evil because she takes enjoyment in the suffering of others, Gamao was evil because he didn’t care about the feelings of others and just wanted personal gain, neither of them were evil because of their eating habits. It’s a weird thing to throw in there and it doesn’t tell us anything more about Hadenya except that she’s impulsive, so...... it falls flat. Honestly the most interesting thing she did this episode was try to poison Coco..... at least I think that’s what the goal was? She ate them herself when he refused so maybe they were fine but then what was her goal? just to say “Haha you cheated on your diet and now the Precure won’t be friends with you, and they’ll hand over the Dream Collet”? That doesn’t make ANY sense, even if she planned to trap Coco in the Kowaina. And for that matter how did she even know he was on a diet? I would have assumed she was just tempting him because his love of choux creme is well-known, but when she’s taunting the cures she specifically lies and says he cheated on his diet, so...... it’s just weird. Come to think of it, poisoning him before they got the Dream Collet isn’t the smartest thing either, so it was just a bad plan all around. I applaud the plan if only for how extra she got with it, Hadenya isn’t typically one for disguises.

The highlight of this episode is easily the cooking segment. I would call that the saving grace, even. The comedy is so on point, I want to watch an entire series of these girls’ hijinks in the kitchen. The last time we got this was in episode 15, when they all cook for Nozomi’s ill mother, and well..... some of them have not learned. Karen still screws up portion sizes, Urara’s just kinda clumsy, and Komachi still wants to add youkan to porridge, although this actually works out. But anyway, the comic timing of their kitchen antics is absolutely perfect and I love how they play off of each other, with Rin and now Milk being the lone voices of reason. This is what Kirakira could have been (we’ll talk about that eventually). The payoff to it all is really good, too, the vegetarian choux cremes they make look delicious and if you check the gallery I included their detailed directions for making them. No portion sizes but it’s an idea to try out. Tag me if you do!

And lastly some bookkeeping:

The “dokkoisho” that Coco and later Milk utter when they fall is an old colloquial term, basically like “heave ho”. In general it implies putting strength towards something, and in this case suggests that they’re struggling to push themselves up because they’re heavy. From what I can tell, it originates with Hokkaido fishing villages and was popularized in their sea shanties.

The kowaina’s voice is higher pitched than normal, and I’m not sure why. It seems to be the same actress as usual.

The shot of Milk with the sign is very exploitable and my friend @precurehoroscopes has made a version you can play with:

Next time, man this series is full of ideas that would get explored fully in later shows isn’t it? Milk is rewriting the story of Cinderella with the girls as the characters and it’s..... a trip. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 2 kettei!

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! Precure 5 #YPC537 #PCD185

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thepanicoffice · 4 years

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Erectionnearing

[...]

"I am a sick man...I am a spiteful man. I am a most unpleasant man." – Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground

That quote says all that need be said about me and about why, on the eve of the 2019 General Election, I have produced this… this… obscenity; this affront to all decent people.

Regular readers will be keenly aware that I have form for unpleasant and painfully unstimulating erotica but even I thought I had some limits. In the end what makes us truly human is our capacity to learn new and distressing things about ourselves all the time.

Read on, poor fool, and you too may learn something new and distressing about yourself.

Consider this an early present – intended with malice and unleashed upon a world not equipped to cope with it.

Merry Christmas. May God spare us all another year.

[...]

Arabella walked idly down the long hallway of her Kensington flat. With each step she tapped her stiletto heels twice and listened to the echoes skitter ahead of her. She was always like this before seeing a client, pacing around her home; not nervous, exactly, but expectant. She had to gear herself up to accommodate the entire hideousness of the men that she serviced. She enjoyed her work at times but evenings like this one would inevitably test her resolve.

The doorbell cut through the silence like a knife; charged; almost erotic in itself. Arabella walked the corridor, still slowly but in a more direct line. As she approached the door, she straightened a framed photo of her mother that was slightly askew. The extra half second would, she calculated, bring her client’s desire to a rolling boil as he stood, perhaps with trepidation, perhaps just excitement, on her doorstep.

She opened the door. A pregnant moment for them both.

“Good evening.”

“Erm… Tally-ho!”

Arabella took a moment to drink in the sight before her, like a bitter draught of sewage.

“I’m here about the IT lesson,” he said in a loud and unconvincing voice, before whispering: “Could uh… I come in? I don’t want to be seen out here. I’m quite a… er… important person.”

Surveying him with a faintly scornful eye, she was surprised to hear that he was quite an important person. He was stocky but almost formless; like an overlarge large business suit stuffed three-quarters full of hay. This scarecrow appearance was compounded by the crown of piss-yellow straw carelessly scattered on his head. In spite of this inhuman physique, his face was a rudimentary sketch of features flanked on either side by distended, fleshy jowls that flushed a feeble crimson with faint embarrassment.

“You had better come in Mr…” The client hadn’t left a name when booking.

“Uhhh Gove. Michael Gove.”

Arabella wordlessly beckoned him inside. She walked in a studied seductive manner, while he audibly loped behind with heavy, graceless limbs. He knocked the photo of Arabella’s mother from the wall and it smashed on the floor.

“Oh crumbs, I er… do er… accept… sincerest apologies… humble…” he sputtered in a tedious approximation of Hugh Grant trying to swallow a plum without chewing.

“That’s quite alright,” Arabella replied. She would make him suffer for that.

With a hand gently pressed to his shoulder, she guided his corpulent frame onto the sofa. He collapsed with a weighty thump, accompanied by a chorus of springs groaning under his density.

She handed him a glass of white wine which he grasped in his pudgy hand.

“Thanks!” he gasped, before tilting it to his mouth and spilling much of it down his chin.

Arabella surfed the brief, hot waves of revulsion that pulsed through her.

“You know,” she said mischievously and with some relish, “you look an awful lot like the Prime Minister…”

“No!” the figure cried as though he’d discovered a wasp nest in his trousers. “No. I… I… get that quite a lot. Must be my… shoes… No, as I say, I’m Michael Gove.”

“What, former Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs and current Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, Michael Gove?”

“Not, uh… Not, uh… Not necessarily. Just a Michael Gove. Just if the press happens to ask.”

“Understood Michael. You can call me Mistress Thunderlash. Other than that, I would prefer it if you did not speak. Shall we begin?”

The honeyed sheen of arousal clouded over his tiny pink-rimmed eyes. He licked his lips.

“Cripes! Yes, please Mistress.”

She shuddered involuntarily at the thought of having to satisfy the carnal desires of this lazily-conceived Beano character, but she artfully transformed it into a sensual roll of her shoulder, before leading him with her gaze towards the Red Room.

Hoisted by his own lust, he leapt from the sofa and padded towards the door, effortlessly shedding his clothes en route like a snake wriggling from its discarded skin. She watched his surprisingly small buttocks as they meandered away from her with the kind of mingled disdain and nausea usually only found at a BMA committee meeting the morning after payday drinks. Reluctantly she followed.

By the time she caught up with him, he was spread-eagled on the bed, his promptly stiffened member jutting violently upwards, puce and tumescent, like a foul red beacon; already making love, as it were, with an easy arrogance, to the evening air.

In truth, this macabre sight left her nethergarden more parched than she could ever remember. She deftly moved to her dresser drawer and applied the artificial lubricant that she so sorely required. Saying a brief but directionless prayer for forgiveness – for whatever God or gods might exist, regardless of the articles of faith they embodied, they surely would not readily excuse her for what she was about to do – she ascended this hummock of bovine mass. And then, in a moment that she would recount to her therapist in years to come, an instant that would live long in her recollections of personal infamy, she invited the slightly crooked protuberance of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom into her resentful cleft.

After several complex minutes of movement, gripping with her thighs and rolling her hips to try to maintain her shifting centre of gravity, she reckoned that she could commence the more enjoyable obligations in her remit as Mistress Thunderlash. She eyed his chest and the tender buds of flesh rising like islands from saucer-sized areolas. Readying her long, wine-red nails, she aimed a punishing flick at his large pale nipples.

“Yowee!” he howled.

“Silence, you unspeakable swine,” Arabella shushed, gripping one of the nipples fiercely. The man’s eyes rolled back into his head, imbibing the heady cocktail of pain and pleasure. His tongue lolled out over his wet, meaty lips.

Arabella dragged her neatly painted nails in scything arcs down his chest and heaving gut. He squirmed with a piggy glee, snorting with delight.

Without warning, Arabella dismounted, her enthusiasm for this grim task increasing. She walked over to the cabinet and took out something that the man could not clearly see. All he could identify at first was a slight glinting in the darkness; this proved to be a buckle on a strap. Then the faint outlines of Arabella’s body as she lifted her legs, first one, then the other. As she stepped closer, his eyes gradually made it out; the length of a forearm, topped with bulb the size of a fist; dark, a polished ebony so dark that it swallowed all light.

“By Jove! Jacob told me about this bit!”

Ah yes, Arabella thought, the man who looked like a haughty cadaver and insisted on calling her Nanny. She had wondered who had recommended her.

“I call it…” she said “…Black Rod.”

“Cripes,” he whispered, his voice clogged with desire, fear, and awe. He clearly struggled to break eye contact with the imperious device.

“Ready yourself,” she warned, simply. “This will be as long and as arduous as negotiating a free trade agreement with the European Union.”

In one fluid movement, she sank the prodigious length of Rod up to its hilt. The man tensed, gasped, before relaxing, allowing movement. He muttered guttural nothings under his breath, as though speaking some mysterious language of arousal. Arabella picked up speed, moving through the gears. She felt herself moving in and through the Rod; she became at one with it, remorselessly ploughing the furrow of national leadership; she was a piston, a hateful piston, hammering away; she had never felt so powerful; she had never felt so alive; she would cleave this worthless hog in two!

“I’m approaching…” the man rasped. “I’m approaching…” Runnels of sweat slid across his brow. “I’m approaching…” The final word was strangled, almost mewled: “…climax…”

She knew he was already over the brink; the gravity of his orgasm was drawing him on inescapably to the depths. Now was the time. She knew what she wanted him to hear as his body was wracked with grotesque pleasure.

“Oh!” she moaned, smiling to herself in triumph. “Oh, Michael Gove!”

“N-n-n-n…”

The man spasmed, tried to recoil, tried to escape. But it was too late. The Right Honourable Member for Uxbridge gouted thick ropes of oily sputum into the night, all the while tormented by the images of his colleague’s spite-mottled face. Arabella disengaged and heard him panting sadly in the dark.

“Leave now,” Arabella said, throwing his discarded clothes at his feet.

“I… you’ll ruddy well…” But he knew there was nothing he could do. One phone call to the press would be the end of him and his ill-deserved career. Even his uncanny ability for failing upwards in life despite no discernible talent would protect him here.

“Leave means leave,” Arabella said, pouring herself a glass of red wine. “Best of luck in the election. Consider that pre-emptive revenge for the country.”

He wandered out into the corridor. As Arabella shut the door, she heard the man say loudly, grimly, to no one in particular, “Thank you for the IT lesson. It was most instructive.”

#Maslin #Editor #I am so sorry #Politics #UK Politics #General Election #It will not surprise you to learn that my mother is not proud of me

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klngofdarkness · 4 years

Text

Discord Thread Archive - #3

This is a thread written on “Klonoa Party”, a server on Discord with Maxipawz, available on Twitter and DeviantART and Moonlit-Traveler on Discord.

Characters: Lephise, Ghadius, Klonoa

Setting/s: Kingdom Of Cress, Phantomile,

Notes: This thread was more of a test-round between us. A section has been omitted where I performed the roles of Jiji and Huepow.

@maxipawz

The wind was blowing softly in Breezegale. It was a lovely day for getting out and trying something new. With her alone time in check, Lephise spent it rather oddly. She bothered not to take the bucket off of her head, and instead somehow found herself wandering through town. Such a strange girl she is. Her alone time, however, would be cut short, as surely someone would be noticing she would come by. She was humming to herself, stepping carefully as not to fall or run into anything. "Laalalaaa, lala-ooh! Laaaa...lalaaa~"

Moonlit-Traveler

{Heading towards Lephise was a rather familiar face. A long eared kid in a cap. It was Klonoa- the boy who had saved Phantomile 3 years ago. But...something was wrong. Rather than his usual jovial and blissful nature- he looked depressed...}

@maxipawz

"Lalalaaa...~ Aaah.." Lephise soon stopped, very close to Klonoa. "Alright, that's enough silly singing for now, my ears are really starting to hurt..." She spoke to herself, lifting the bucket off of her head. Glancing around, she came to the realization of where she was. "...Oh, my stars...how did I...no, I prefer not to think about it." With another look around, the sight of a familiar face caught her beaming eyes. She gasped audibly. "Oh..! The long-eared hero, Klonoa...! Is it really you? How did you..." She tilted her head as she began to draw close. "Aah, my dear, you seem so struck by something.."

Moonlit-Traveler

{Klonoa was trying to hold back his tears. He wasn't sure where to turn to- and then he spotted the Songstress.} Klonoa: Manya...? Oh...H-Hiya, Ms. Lephise...Have...you seen Huepow...? I really need to talk to him...it's important...

@maxipawz

Lephise looked worried, noticing her world's dear hero in such distress. "Aaah, Huepow? I...do not know his wherabouts, but I could take you to the Queen. Surely she would know." She insisted. To be quite frank, it's been a while since she's seen the prince. Now that it's on her mind, it's starting to even concern her.

Moonlit-Traveler

Klonoa: I sure hope so...I needed to talk with him again...especially after what happened the last time I was here...{It was the three year anniversary since Klonoa was ejected from Phantomile- when the truth had slapped him in the face. The truth of how Huepow replaced his memories with fake ones- the truth of how Huepow had manipulated and lead Klonoa astray. As much as he wants to move on- he simply can't forget- and it's been eating away at him.} {The Cabbit was struggling to keep his tears in check- opting to put on a brave and confident face in front of the Diva, but he was struggling immeasurably. Water had started trailing from his eyes- his hat shielding his face from the sorrow. Klonoa didn't want Lephise to see him like this.}

@maxipawz

Lephise could only imagine how distressed Klonoa was when he was ultimately dragged from this world. To have everything taken away from him so quickly, it hurt her just thinking about it. It was destiny, another thing she had no control over. Strange how it all worked. Humbly, she turned her back to him, leading him off to the Cress Kingdom. Only then when they were walking through the halls had Lephise soon spoken up. "It has been quite some time...the Cress kingdom has been more quiet now more than ever. I cannot help but begin to worry, that something might happen..." She stopped in the middle of a large room, glancing around. "Your majesty? Your majesty, are you around?"

Moonlit-Traveler

{Despite what had happened, Klonoa was worried as well. Although it hasn't been TOO long since he saw Huepow, and despite everything that had happened- he still considered the Moon Prince his friend. But...he wanted answers. He wanted to clear the air with Huepow as soon as possible.} Klonoa: Huepow...? It's...i-it's me, Klonoa! Are you here?! ....W-Where are you!?

@driftstar13

As Klonoa stepped into the familiar kingdom of Cress and coursed the halls, searching for that soft and pudgy face of the prince that he considered his best friend, he found that while he was greeted by a few stray guards and the occasional remaining Moo, it was mostly empty. Huepow must've been deeper inside, and as Klonoa traveled to find and speak to him eventually something stirred in another room, a shape in another room that made Klonoa freeze in place as something in the back of his head screamed at him, but what did it mean? Slowly, a hand emerged from the side of the door. While, for a moment, Klonoa was lead to believe that he had found Hewpoe that was definitely not his hand. Those red claws however were a lot more familiar than what he would've liked. "Prince Hewpoe... is not here." A low, chilling voice told the dream traveler as a cloaked figure stepped out into the doorway, towering well above the long-eared feline. He had wanted to forget the empty stare of that weird, avian-shaped mask. "I'm certain that he would have appreciated an announcement of your visit, dream traveller."

Moonlit-Traveler

{A chill ran down the Cabbit's spine. How?! How was he here- after Klonoa had defeated him all those years ago!? The boy readied his Wind Ring, a fight seemingly ready to break out.} Klonoa: Ghadius...How are you- ...What're you doing here!? What did you to do Huepow!?

@driftstar13

The entity stared down at Klonoa. He could feel it. The simple fact that he was here was horrifying. "Did you forget?" He simply reminded, lowering his head a little. "The song of rebirth invigorates this world, and everyone in it, including the ancient spirits." Ghadius explained. As of right now, he appeared to have no ill will. "I have not harmed the prince." He finally mentioned, "He has been involved with the people of the other kingdoms. He is not here. That is all I can say."

@maxipawz

Ah. Ghadius had returned for another visit. Rather unfortunate timing, however. Lephise hurried in-between the two. "My apologies, I can explain, Klonoa. I have willingly invigorated Ghadius so we may work together to bring about a more stable Phantomile. It was a decision I had made based on my experiences." She looked to Ghadius as he explained. "I see...that would make sense, him being away to involve himself with other kingdoms more. It must be private business, seeing that he is not vocal about his whereabouts, which is why I'm starting to worry. I may have to recommend an investigation if nothing improves soon..."(edited)

Moonlit-Traveler

Klonoa: After everything Ghadius has done- you really expect me to beleive he wants a "Stable Phantomile"!? I can't forget what he did! He woke Nahatomb up and nearly destroyed Phantomile! YOU! YOU are the reason my Granpa is dead! Klonoa: I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, GHADIUS! NEVER, EVER, FOREVER!

@driftstar13

Ghadius didn't seem all too affected by Klonoa's ranting. In fact, he chuckled. "I do not know your grandfather." He admitted, "It seems that Joka had been misbehaving before you defeated him." It was insulting. Ghadius simply laughed off Jiji's death like it was nothing. However, he had every reason to. "Don't you want to greet your grandfather as well, Klonoa? He should be at home, alive and well, all thanks to Lephise's Song of Rebirth." He gently laid a hand over Lephise's shoulder. Was he saying the truth? Something about it was very fishy... "But I do not blame you. Joka has never bothered to visit me either."

@maxipawz

"Ahh, Klonoa..!" Lephise squeaked, her small body hopping in place from the sheer boom in Klonoa's voice. He was audibly upset over this, and rightfully so. "Remember what we have said! The world has been restored to order, during the time before the events you went under. I'm happy to say your grandfather might just so be alive and well, as we speak. I do not visit Breezegale all that often, but when I do, I see quite a few familiar faces." She smiled gently, letting Ghadius rest his hand over her shoulder. "You must have just arrived, Klonoa. It's a lot to take in."

Moonlit-Traveler

Klonoa: ......I'm still mad at you...Even if you claim to be helping out Phantomile and bringing order to it and what-not...It's no excuse for what you did! ...Oh- and FYI- I've run into your Clown a few times! He's still just as much of a sleezeball as I remembered! The dude still thinks you're dead!Klonoa: ...And if you ask me...I wish YOU were still dead!

@driftstar13

Ghadius could only chuckle, and lean forward, a little uncomfortably close to Klonoa's face. "You still have much to learn, dream warrior. Don't let your hatred consume you." After that warning the entity stood back up, straightening his back, "I wouldn't want you to repeat my mistake. You have every reason to despise me, as I have enough reasons to despise the people of Phantomile. But I am here to face my responsibilities. You must too. As for Joka... tell him I said 'Hello'."

@maxipawz

"Aaah, Klonoa...Ghadius..." Lephise was struck with grief. Ghadius was right when the people of Phantomile could keep their grudges, but nothing was going to change the fact that he was here, and ready to change. She felt helpless as she watched the two speak back and forth.

Moonlit-Traveler

{Klonoa wanted to keep his anger up, hoping that venting would save him from his depression. But...it wasn't working. Every world he had been to had tossed him aside as soon as he fulfilled his purpose. He didn't want to be angry- not like this...he was hoping to reconcile with Huepow and have fun again...not to be reminded that he would constantly be rejected by the worlds he'd help out. Tears once again began to drip from the boy's eyes. He was trembling- knowing that all of that heartbreak, all the toying of his emotions from his time in Phantomile was utterly meaningless.}{He wanted to see his Grandpa- he WANTED to meet with Huepow- but how could he now? He was trying so hard to not let his sadness get the better of him- but he collapsed on his knees- his eyes watering to the extreme and began to sob uncontrollably.}

@driftstar13

Klonoa was vulnerable. Something about it struck Ghadius a little. While his anger was amusing it was almost bizarre to find him suddenly bawling at his feet. It was surprise more than anything. He truly had forgotten that Klonoa was just a child. But he was a child with purpose and potential. While they had different paths and goals he wanted to make sure Klonoa didn't lose his way. "... Go home, child." He commanded, "Go and see your grandfather. He must miss you very much." Perhaps seeing his family again would help. Would grandpa even remember him? What if this world was just reborn without Klonoa, as if he truly had never existed in it? Ghadius didn't have family. He just knew that, to someone like Klonoa, it must be important...

@maxipawz

Poor Klonoa. All of this was so overwhelming to him. But how had he returned? Surely it couldn't have been through natural means. Something summoned him here, and that was what worried her so. Perhaps she was overreacting? She certainly prayed she was. "Klonoa, I...I agree with Ghadius. You have come back to this world for a reason. For the sake of laying your worries a rest, I do recommend seeing your grandfather. Clear your mind, for now. We will only worry when we know there is trouble approaching."

Moonlit-Traveler

{Klonoa looks at the Lunar Duo. As much as he wants to stick around and yell at Ghadius...he wanted to see his grandfather more. If he really was alive...it'd send his heart soaring.} Klonoa: ...Alright...I-I'll go see Granpa...Klonoa: But...we aren't finished, Ghadius...I'll deal with you later... {The Cabbit quietly walks out of the castle, and heads straight for Breezegale.}

@driftstar13

"Songstress," Ghadius spoke to address Lephise, glancing down at her. "Make sure that the dream traveller returns to his village safely, won't you?" He paused, returning his gaze to Klonoa. Fair enough, he thought, and didn't bother to answer. "I will be here when you return, Lephise."

@maxipawz

Lephise looked to Ghadius, nodding. "Of course." She answered briefly. With that, she started her way after Klonoa, following him out of the castle and on the pathway to Breezegale. She couldn't help but be so silent the entire way. Who knows what was to be expected?

#𝒮𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒 // IC #Closed Thread #Discord Thread #Maxipawz #Moonlit-Traveler #𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈... // Lephise #𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂... // Klonoa

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feathersandfarmers · 5 years

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Bunty’s point of view part 2

“How about this one, luv?, said the pudgy man, look at the size of her!” He quite rudely began poking a sausage-like finger through the cage. The woman sniffed and turned her nose up at me “This one will probably gobble up all the feed…attack the small, weaker ones…” She responded sharply. When the large idiot wouldn’t quit poking into my stomach, I retaliated by giving him a good, hard bite to his index, making him jolt backwards as if electrocuted. The lanky woman gave an amused smirk to her partner, who was dancing from foot to foot howling and clutching his hand in pain. “Actually Mr. Tweedy…..I think this one will be perfect after all!”

Perfect? Just what was that supposed to mean? In a great hullabaloo, I was given over to this strange couple, and thrown once again in another vehicle. It seemed, to my great discontent ,that I was yet again on my way to another unknown location.

From the moment I got there…I just had this awful feeling in my gut! (and it wasn’t because I had an empty stomach!) Without any introduction whatsoever….I just knew this was no haven for animals. There was no greenery in sight…no sweet scent of waffles and syrup…and the only animals around were other hens. It didn’t seem there was much I could do…tall fences towered over us at each corner, so there was no chance of an escape. As much as I hate to admit it, my eyes began to sting as hot tear arose…passing row after row of chicken huts, I soon saw a group of chicks gathered around this blue rooster. This group of young’uns seemed enraptured by the rooster’s words, as he made grand gestures with his arms, obviously deep in his story-telling. Despite thinking I was too old for stories, I slowly made my way over to the group and sat down with the others…listening to tales of war and epic plane flights.

All my blimey hope was lost after enough days had gone by. I understood that farmer Hasen would not ever return for me…Tweedy’s farm was my new home. I learned the very grim truths about the place after only a week of residing there; eggs were what kept me alive...I was going to be laying eggs ( just be a bloody egg machine!) until the day I died. Truth be told ducks, I went from being a prim n’ proper, spoiled hen to the hardened no-nonsense prune you all know and love… (shall I take a curtsy?)

Whenever new chicks were dropped into our coop, they’d always be crying. (Quite aggravating if you ask me!) But I’d remember how I felt on my first day at the Tweedys’, and it got my heart to beat a little lighter for them. In particular, Mac and Babs had become my first chums. Babs wasn’t too far from my age and we often spent time in the huts yackin’ about this and that. Mac was quite young…and was blind as ever even back in those days! (hehe baby four-eyes).

The last to join our little group was even younger than Mac was, and I first met her after a typical roll-call. Obviously, she was crying her eyes out like a little fool. “whatchu blubbering about?” I said irritably, looking down at the little chick by my feet. “I…I want mummy!” “yeah well….she’s not coming back!” To this, the little bird began to wail…and the part of me that cannot stand the sight of someone in such chagrin decided to be a little more welcoming to the puny thing. “Listen…that whining won’t do you any good here…you’ve got to be a big girl now, and brave! Why don’t you come with me and the others? The old sausage has a new story brewing for us tonight!” I said, leaning down and smiling softly. I gave her a little wink, she slipped her wing into mine, and we walked off together to Fowler’s hut. I became somewhat of a guardian or older sister to my young friends. I was gruff and tough, sure....but they needed the tough love to get them through such a hard life!

Having friends there mad my life a whole lot bearable. And little did I know that the crying chick would someday hatch a plan to our salvation!

Am I still bothered by the past? You’re darn tootin’, I am! The anger is certainly still there, and I know for certain it will take some time to die down. In the meantime, I try to redirect my energy into summat positive like raising my sons; Padovan, Dimitri, Viktor, Alastor and Griffin. Having five boys, I thought I’d have my wings full at all times… (and most days I do) but my boys love quiet activities(picking flowers, dirt-drawing ,skipping stones by the pond) and that gives me a moments peace to just breathe and be still.

I’m not bloody sure how i can make it up with Ginger....but I suppose those answer will reveal themselves to me someday somehow or summat...”

Here is part 2! I’m getting A LOT of requests for the other stories and I feel I just need to say that I WILL be doing the other characters (Babs, Nick & Fetcher as well as Mr. and Mrs. Tweedy). But I need to take my time doing them as to properly develop my ideas/write things out well and with effort.(that and I have other priorities other than the fics!) So they will be out when the time is right for me, thank you.

I had a hard time figuring out the ending to this one...so i just did my best with it! (Part 1 can be found here )

#chicken run #Bunty #fanfic #aardman

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lhs3020b · 5 years

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After Noon (1)

So here’s a surprise: somehow, I’m writing fiction again.

I somehow seem to have ended up with a sort of Chocky-meets-r/NoSleep story - it’s quite unlike anything I’ve ever put pen-to-paper on before. What I have so far is under the cut.

Synopsis: a very ordinary London family may or may not be dealing with unEarthly forces. Much confusion happens...

(NB: this is in the style of an r/NoSleep story, so it’s written as if it were real, and as if the viewpoint character were posting to an advice forum or some such thing.)

I'll be honest: Chris was a surprise. But, she's the best surprise we've ever had.

Let me back up and introduce myself. I've never posted here before. It feels really weird that I need to. How did this happen? Why did it happen, and why us? Anyway, I'm already digressing.

My name is Jenny. I'm in my early 30s. I live in London with my partner of eight years, Jo. Jo and I have a six-year old daughter called Christina. Christina wasn't planned and I'll be honest, when we found out, we were quite worried at first. But to my (and Jo’s!) considerable surprise, Chris has ended up being the best thing that's ever happened to us. Sure the sleepless nights were rough and there's all the new problems like childcare, finding a decent school and her amazing ability to wreck all the new clothes we buy her. But seeing her smile, or watching her take her first steps, or listening to the first words she said - absolutely nothing compared. When she spoke for the first time, I honestly thought my heart would melt. I just couldn't believe that someone as frankly-useless and flawed as myself had managed to co-create something as wonderful as this - and accidentally, as well!

Now, here is our problem. Either our beautiful precious daughter is extremely-disturbed, or our family has directly-witnessed an alien apocalypse. I don't like either option.

Yes, it sounds mad, doesn’t it? You’ve just read these words and you’re probably wondering what’s wrong with me. You’ll be thinking, who is this Jenny and why she is having her mental episode here, on our website? Believe me, I’ve asked myself all those questions. But some very weird stuff has been going down inside our normal little family home. Some of it could be coincidence, misunderstanding, whatever. But the rest of it? I genuinely-can’t account for some of what’s happened.

Why us? Why our daughter? What were we supposed to do? Could we have done anything? Should we have done anything? I don’t know. Frankly, I’m posting here because I’m near my wits end. My family is a mess, my daughter is in pieces. I’m not sleeping full nights anymore. I don’t know what to do, but I’m hoping maybe some of you might.

Basically, please hear me out. I’m desperate.

You’re probably feeling uneasy already. I don’t blame you. It's all a lot to take in. Let me start from the beginning. Perhaps some context will help make sense of all this.

Perhaps there was a subtle hint of what was to come when she started talking. Chris didn't start with individual words. Instead, the first thing we got from her was a full sentence. I was cooking in the kitchen and she was in her high chair. It was a mid-afternoon in December about four years ago - London being London, the Sun had almost set, so I had the lights on already. I was just about to start boiling an egg when Chris suddenly pointed, and said "It's an egg!"

(Well, actually, what she said sounded more like "Hitsa hegg!", but the meaning was clear enough.)

Needless to say I immediately went into squee mode. Jo got called in and went into squee mode too. Chris loved the attention, though it was another two days before she spoke again. After that, the floodgates opened. Our health visitor said she'd never seen linguistic development this fast. Chris, apparently was very smart. The news sent us over the moon with joy.

And this is where our tale goes into high gear, becuase I'm not so certain that she was as precocious as we were told. Don't get me wrong - our daughter is a special young lady, and a bright one too. But I've got some reason to believe that someone, or something, had helped her along the way a bit.

It was when she turned five that we first met Noon.

'Jenny, it's not unusual,' Jo told me. 'I had an imaginary friend when I was little.'

I blinked. 'You did?' I'd never heard this story. (And here's one unexpected side-effect of having Chris: I was getting to know my partner all over again, better than I did beforehand.)

He nodded. 'Yeah. I had a comfort blanket. I gave it a name and took it everywhere.' He looked a bit embarrassed. 'I think my parents hated it. In hindsight, can't completely blame them, really.'

'But you didn't think it was real ...' I prompted.

He shook his head. 'Not really, no. It was more about having someone to talk to.'

'She's got us to talk to,' I said, maybe a little defensive.

'True,' he said. 'But - look, I'm sure it will be fine. Once she's settled into the new class at primary school.'

I breathed out, feeling myself relax a little. Jo was right. I was being overprotective. Don't judge me too hard - I've never been a parent before, and I'm having to make it up as I go along! A few stumbles were probably inevitable. I'd been worrying too much. Doubtless Jo was right and the Noon business was just a reaction to the recent changes at her school.

Her class had been split up. One of the teachers abruptly quit halfway through the term, under murky circumstances. Plus the school's been having money problems, like too many others across the country. It's inevitable that all this adult-work-chaos stuff would have some impact on the children, as much as everyone tries to shield them from it. Contrary to what many people think, kids aren't stupid. In fact they sometimes see things more clearly then we do, because they don't yet have the layers of cotton-wool self-delusion we pad ourselves out with. When stuff is going down, they'll pick up on it.

But if that was the case, then there was good news too. Once the school situation settled down, we'd stop hearing about Chris's new imaginary friend all the time too.

My relief was to be short-lived. Later that very evening, there was a development.

I was sitting down with Chris in the living room. We'd had dinner. She'd been good and had used her little plastic knife and fork all through the meal. Normally I call it a win if I can even get her to pick them up, let alone neatly cut-and-skewer all her food. But of course we want to reinforce it if she does well, so I was allowing her an extra hour or so with her crayons and drawing stuff, before bed-time.

She was sat on the carpet, cross-legged, looking very serious in that way that small children do sometimes when they know an adult is watching. There was a sheet of paper in front of her. She picked up a red crayon. She then proceeded to draw a red ellipse on the paper. It might have been meant to be a circle, but to be brutally-honest, it looked more like a sort of obese beetroot.

'That's very pretty, dear,' I said.

Apparently I'd picked the right tone of voice (I still don't really have that skill, sadly). She beamed at me. Then she frowned and looked at the other crayons.

'I can't find it, Mummy,' she said.

'You can't find what?' I asked. Now, I almost with I hadn't.

She said, 'I need to draw the other sun, Mummy. But I need a white crayon.'

The other sun? What? I know I must have looked baffled, because suddenly Chris's lip trembled. She always reacts strongly to our moods. Learning to regulate my emotional expression - well, let's be honest, I still trip up on that one.

To cover my confusion, I reached over to her left. The white crayon had rolled over there when we tipped them out of their box. I think she must have missed it. 'Here it is, dear,' I said.

She beamed and took the crayon from me, grasping it in her pudgy little fingers. I breathed a private sigh of relief. Apparently my little slip a moment ago hadn't mattered too much.

Chris frowned at the page. 'It's very small,' she said. She drew a barely-visible white circle with the crayon. 'That's too big. But I can't make it smaller. Small sun.'

'It's lovely, dear,' I said. 'The Sun is usually yellow, though.' (I have a friend, Fiona, who's an astronomer. At this point she would be ranting about how the Sun can't be yellow because sunlight is white light by definition, so this must be yet another popular delusion reiterated uncritically by poor scientific comms, etc. etc. Perhaps it was just as well that Fiona wasn't here with us this evening.)

Chris scowled. 'Not ours,' she said. 'Where Noon is from. They have two suns there.'

Noon was from a place with two suns? That really did throw me for six. Where on earth could Chris have got that idea from? I mean, points for creativity. I wouldn't have thought of that when I was a child! But still, this was some left-field stuff.

'Noon says there are two suns?' I asked.

Chris nodded, enthusiastically. She liked talking about Noon. 'She was telling me about it earlier.'

Noon was a she? That was new too. So far, we'd had no idea about Noon's gender, or even if the concept could be applied. Like Brexit, Noon was Noon, but what that actually meant had been a mystery for none but the elect to know. (Late last night as we lay in bed, Jo had commented to me that you could tell it was 2019 because the cool kids had non-binary imaginary friends. I whacked him with a pillow, though I will admit I did also snigger, just for a moment.)

Chris added, 'And it's always daytime where Noon is.'

You have to cut Chris a little slack. She's very young, so her world-building still has some research errors here and there. But perhaps now was as good a time as any for a little bit of education. I said, 'That's very interesting. Here, we have day and night. Because the Earth spins. Which is why we see the Sun rise and set.'

Chris was apparently ready for this. 'Noon says it used to do that where she is.' The little girl frowned, puckering her lip. 'But Noon says that was a very long time ago. It doesn't do it anymore. It slowed down, and stopped. Now it's daylight on one side. And it's night on the other. All the time.'

There was a pause.

'Noon says that's why she calls herself that. Her breed-group - she says that like a family - live in the middle of the day. So it's always noon where she is.' Chris picked up a black crayon and drew a wobbly horizon-line, below the two suns. 'She says it's not that weird. Our Moon is the same.'

Then she said three words, deliberately, slowly and carefully. Like someone was reciting them to her. And they were three words you don't expect to hear from a small child. 'Tidally-locked rotation.' Then she beamed and laughed, actually bouncing a little. Like she was really pleased that she'd managed to get it all right.

Breed-group? Like the Moon? Tidally-locked? What the hell?

This was starting to get faintly-weird. Chris had clearly put a lot of work into this. Or, someone had primed her with it. I found myself thinking of her school, and all the stuff that was happening there. Perhaps someone had given a weird assembly. Dumped some stuff into the kids' heads, well-meaningly, but before the children were really ready to absorb it? Or - no, wait, I had it! It would have been during one of the gaps in teaching-hours, wouldn't it? It would be just like the school to park the kids in a room with a video somewhere while the adults faffed about. They'd been left watching some sort of sci-fi thing, hadn't they? That was where all this must be coming from!

Carefully, I said, 'It's very nice of Noon to share about her life. I hope she likes it where she is.'

I didn't expect what happened next. Suddenly, Chris burst into tears. And these were proper floods. These were the-neighbour-ran-over-our-dog-and-I-saw-it-all tears. These were serious-business tears. Something was badly wrong.

'Oh honey, what's the matter?' Quickly I gathered her into my arms. She was still clutching the crayons, weeping hysterically. I heard feet thumping along the corridor outside. Jo had heard, and was coming running.

I did my best to soothe the distraught child as her father joined us. He looked at me, questioningly. Quickly I shook my head, mouthing, No love, I have no idea what set this off. I don't know whether he fully-understood what I said, or whether this was just parent-telepathy time. But either way, Jo joined the group-effort that was calming our daughter.

Finally we got Chris settled a little. Her face was still red and puffy but the sobs had softened away and the waterworks had calmed down. I held her - she felt very warm, and very precious - and rocked her from side-to-side. I was verging between deep concern for my daughter and wanting to smack Noon for whatever she'd done - which was completely irrational, given that at that point, I didn't believe that Noon existed.

When we'd settled our little girl enough, I think Jo and I both decided that there'd been enough drawing for one night. She didn't protest as we put the crayons away. Jo fetched her a hot chocolate - her favourite drink - and I dug out the laptop. We have a carefully-curated YouTube cartoons list (believe me, I don't let Chris anywhere near the "something is wrong on the Internet" stuff!) and I put one of her favourites on. We watched it together. Between it, the hot chocolate and maybe a bit of Mum's own-brand cuddles, Chris finally calmed. Soon, she was very tired. It was evident that bedtime was near. The day's drama had exhausted her.

Shortly after, we were tucking her into bed. I sat with her, holding her hand, as she drifted off. I was feeling both worried and relieved. Worried because that eruption earlier had been terrifying. Relieved because at least it was over.

Then something new happened.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, Chris muttered something. 'Noon says the little white one will kill them all.'

#LHS writes #Noon

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