#i thought the guy had just been collecting this kid’s fucking skeleton every time he died for some reason

[mumblesplash]

did u think Eret (dsmp) was herobrine bcus their character is related to herobrine

oh for real??? i honestly don’t know much of the lore outside what’s obvious from watching sad-ist’s animatics and i knew even less when i first heard about herobrine, i just thought he was some guy named bryan who was friends with ninja who, to be clear, i also assumed was a dsmp guy. i do not know how i arrived at any of these conclusions

#i also spent a brief but blissfully ignorant span of time convinced philza was the actual inventor of minecraft #i think everyone in The Discord thought i was running a bit until i was like wait who the fuck is notch #there was also a bit there where i was vaguely under the impression that wilbur soot was jacob sartorius #bc i knew they existed but didn’t actually know who either of them were and i think my brain was try to save ram by smooshing them together #oh oh and that one part in one of the animatics where techno shows tommy his collection of wither skulls #did Not know what a wither was #i thought the guy had just been collecting this kid’s fucking skeleton every time he died for some reason #‘​i was like damn that’s kinda dark what the fuck is going on in this story’ and then didn’t investigate further #in this house we do NOT 🙅‍♂️ learn things we do NOT 🙅‍♂️ know things we ONLY wonder things #splashasks #alollinglaughingcat

[kaleidoscopek9]

ALRIGHT-

SO

I've had this list of headcannons just sitting in my notes app of my phone and I wanna put it somewhere so 👀

(These are heavily inspired by what I could gather from the skele boys in @bonelyheartsclub! I just threw in a few of my own.)

-----------*

Sans

- Does a LOT of stargazing and has quite a few space-themed knicknacks and clothes in his room. He's got a telescope too!

- Dad jokes. Any time is prime dad joke time. He's never let an opportunity slip past him.

- He's an absolute prank master. You're considered lucky if you happen to avoid the ones he's planted around the house like bombs waiting to go off.

- He's cryptic as fuck. Always giving half-true answers to every question. Occasionally he may slip up and give you a brutally honest response, but that's only with the people he trusts most, and he finds being open to be very difficult.

- He's constantly referencing memes and vine quotes from days of yore. He practically has a database of every meme ever in his head, and he doesnt let it go to waste.

- Cuddling with him is basically a one way ticket to nap-town, and you constantly find yourself waking up to him smooshed against you on the couch after dozing off. For being a skeleton, he is a surprisingly comfortable snuggler.

-----------*

Papyrus

-So much baking and cooking. It's his favorite past time, and the kitchen never smells the same when he's done making whatever he's making in there (it's 12 times out of 10 pasta) And while his cooking may be sub-par, you never say no when he asks you to try his latest dish.

- He's always up to go shopping with you. It never matters where. Malls are his favorite, especially the big grand ones with fountains and huge windows. He makes it a point to bring spare cash because you KNOW he's going to ride the mini marry-go-round even if he can barely fit in the seats.

- You two love to binge watch cooking channels. Always discussing which foods would be the most fun to make, writing down recipies, and having a hell of a time trying to pause the show at the right points to get all the information down.

- Papyrus is notorious for game nights. He's always pulling out boards and cards that you've never heard of before and never starts a game until he's absolutely certain you know the rules. Winning of course, is always his prime goal when it comes to games, but if he senses you're on a particularly rough losing streak, he MAY slip up. Occasionally. Just enough so you can win a game or two. Or five.

-----------*

Blue

- Hyper as all hell. You give him a reasonable dose of sugar or caffeine and he could power an entire city for a few hours without breaking a sweat.

- If he had been in high school, Blue would have been a theater kid. He's always humming a tune from a Broadway show or Disney movie, and he's got a pretty good collection of songs on his brother's Spotify playlist.

- This guy will blast Steven Universe music at full volume he has no shame.

- If you are ever driving somewhere with him, an aux cord is a MUST. Singing in the car is a very frequent thing with you two, and you'll only get out after the song is over.

- He likes cryptids! Mothman is his favorite and he firmly believes he exists somewhere.

- He's your workout buddy. If he manages to drag you to the gym with him, that is.

- Blue hates seeing you down in the dumps, and is always trying to cheer you up with his quirky puns and jokes to get you smiling again.

- He'd be the best motivational poster ever. Whenever he picks up that you're going through a rough spot and falling behind on self-care, he knows just what to say to put the spark back in you again.

-----------*

Stretch

- Radiates goblin energy.

- A goddamn meme lord.

- He's made two or three widely known viral videos and nobody knows it was him.

- You need someone to go to an anime convention with? Stretch is your guy. He's god awful at planning stuff out, but he'll make sure you both have a good time, no matter what happens.

- He's really big into nerd culture, and he DMs for a dungeons and dragons game every week.

- He'll occasionally smoke, but he doesnt have lungs, so he does it more for shits and giggles than anything else.

- As lazy as he seems, he is very reliable. If he knows it's something important to you, he'll get it done. Chores though, he's a lot more iffy with.

- He really likes bees.

-----------*

Red

- Talks big talk, but he's actually a huge softie.

- He's basically a big pillow with sharp teeth that can curse.

- A nervous wreck.

- His brother shops at Hot Topic. He shops at Spencer's. Very convenient.

- He's a pretty big flirt and throws out little compliments and things to butter you up from time to time.

- If you take Red into a Dave and Busters he will win the most expensive prize at the booth in about 2 hours. (He knows how to cheat at every single game)

- He's a competitive gamer, and has a pretty impressive following on Twitch.

- He can go from loud and brash to quiet and insecure in a matter of moments, depending on the situation.

- He loves to bake, although it's something he will never be caught dead doing.

- Comfort is not his strong suit, but he will defend you without a second thought.

- He can be a little clingy and will text you now and again to ask what you're up to, just to ease his mind.

-----------*

Boss

- Professionalism is his game.

- The walking embodiment of Hot Topic.

- He loves to listen to rock and screamo music. He's also got a thing for Disney villain songs.

- You need some punk biker or vampiric goth fashion advice? Boss got ya.

- Skellator Man.

- Out of all the skeletons, Boss has the biggest ego.

- He hates admitting he's wrong. He would rather DIE than admit he's fucked up something.

- "I am not nice-"

- He could kill a man with his high heels.

- If it's got spikes he'll probably wear it.

- Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsu

- Did I mention he's a cold blooded tsundere.

-----------*

Nox

- Small angery man.

- He listens to a lot of classic and instrumental music. He finds it very sophisticated.

- Wakes up obscenely early in the morning. Always followed by a cup of the most bitter coffee on the planet.

- Comes up with the best insults. He could roast someone so hard that they'd dissolve into a pile of soot. He could glare at you and you'd cease to exist. He's that good.

- WILL step on you without remorse.

- Threatens to kill someone on a daily basis.

- Very rarely has spare time for himself. He's always keeping busy doing something.

- Loves dark, dry humor. A child falling off a swing will have him laughing for a good five minutes.

- Has a stone cold poker face.

- He might have a softer side to him. You may never know because of the walls he's built up around him.

-----------*

Rus

- He absolutely adores animals. He volunteers at the local animal shelter and plans on adopting every single dog there.

- Rus has a massive sweet tooth. Donuts are his favorite, and you can easily bribe him with anything sugar coated.

- A road trip master. You put him in a camper and he knows exactly where he's going and what he's doing.

- "Going off grid, fuck yeah- I pull out my credit cards and shred 'em."

- Hiking, camping and geocaching are some of his favorite things to do. He loves to explore the wilderness and it's like he has a built-in compass for finding his way.

- His ideal date is going to a Wal-Mart and causing absolute chaos by riding bikes around and tossing all of the inflatable balls from their displays.

- Cryptidcore energy.

- Rus loves watching Buzzfeed Unsolved and ghost huntings. He's a big fan of Supernatural and Stranger Things, too.

- Stutters and slurs his words a lot. He's got some speech impediments from the gold canines in his mouth.

- A bit lacking when it comes to social skills, but he can be extremely caring and sweet.

-----------*

Ash

- Very soft-spoken and awkward. He doesn't get much social interaction and is still figuring some things out.

- He's very self-aware of the wound in his head. Whenever he has to leave the house he wears some sort of hat to cover it up.

- Practically lives in his garden. He understands plants more than he does human beings, and he spends time daily tending to whatever he's growing.

- Him and his brother are both vegetarians, and the smell or sight of meat makes them both feel sick to themselves.

- Has trouble sleeping due to his reoccurring nightmares. He will often sit in his garden late at night to help calm himself.

- Radiates soft energy. He would absolutely give the best hugs out of all the skeletons.

- Very touch-starved. Physical affection is something he rarely recieves, and he probably lingers with touches a lot longer than he should.

- Unintentionally makes God-teir jokes without realizing it.

----------*

Poplar

- Very well-educated in a lot of things. He really likes stocking up on useless factoids and making up his own just to mess with people.

- He answers Jeopardy questions with concerning accuracy.

- He enjoys going out to eat, and he's always up to try fancy foods.

- He likes photography and reading. He is well into the Harry Potter series.

- Poplar is prepared for anything at any time. A lot of stuff doesnt phase him at all, and it's difficult to catch him off-guard.

- He's willing to try anything new, once.

- Always willing to help out with schoolwork if he thinks you're seriously struggling with it.

- He's always carrying around small planners and notebooks to write in so he can keep track of things.

#long post #headcannons #hc #bhc #bhc headcannons #bonely hearts club #like i said #most of these are from the game #i just have a very specific image of these guys in my head and i wanted to put it down somewhere

[geckolady]

Skulduggery Pleasant: Raising Cain - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - First day on the job

Stephanie woke up in the morning to an empty room but the sound of a lot of activity. She groaned, remembering exactly what a blubbering mess she had been the day before, but then she remembered that this was her house and her friends were here and they owed her a lot of hugs, especially now they were her brothers. How dare they be her brothers for – she checked her phone – twelve hours and she only got a hug from anyone but Skulduggery!

She stomped from the room and found them scattered in the hallway with various pieces of furniture and objects.

“Unacceptable!” She shouted at them. They all went silent and looked at her nervously. “How dare you!”

Dexter stepped forwards and put his hands up when she glared. “Stephanie, we thought you wouldn’t mind if we did some changes. We thought you would like it if you didn’t have to move home, you see, and we were moving out things–”

“Unacceptable! You did all this, made plans, and I haven’t even gotten any hugs. It’s not fair!”

She stepped forwards and clutched Dexter in a hug as tight as she could. “I love you!” She shouted into his chest.

He started laughing and hugged her back. “I love you too.”

She moved onto the others, getting better hugs as she went down the maturity scale, leaving her finally with Snake. “I got you a present,” he declared and looked around. His grin was replaced with a frown. “I lost it.”

Stephanie laughed and left to get herself breakfast since all they were doing was moving boxes into the bedrooms next to hers. When her stomach was full, she went back up to find the place clear of almost everything and the big man was carving names into some of the doors expertly. They were really nice – Erskine, Saracen, Ghastly, Anton. “Whose Anton?”

“Me,” he grunted.

She grinned. “I like that name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve always called you Bear.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I gave you all nicknames. They’re fun, and I was little when I did it.”

He nodded and got back to his work so she left him and used the bathroom at the end of the hall – there was one on either end, luckily, and the rooms were large enough that they were not actually that close to each other. She’d have to really shout to get someone’s attention if they were at the other end of the hall. When she was ready, she went downstairs to the living room to find her friends sitting in there looking quite at home. It made her smile. They looked like a family.

Her smile faded.

She felt a little excluded with them looking so happy and close. They knew each other from every angle. She couldn’t compete with that type of friendship, couldn’t dominate that type of love. Where would she fit now Gordon wasn’t here to help her?

“Steph!” Dexter said, spotting her first. “What are you doing standing around? Come sit.”

There were no seats so Stephanie dragged the bean bag into the middle of the room and sat in the centre. Gordon said she if she was unsure, get right in the middle. She was probably misunderstanding but she was doing it, right?

“What are we doing today?” She asked them.

“Well,” Skulduggery, Crow, said, “I think a talk is necessary before we do anything.”

Ghastly, Panda, nodded. “Your uncle wanted to wait but this is different.”

Crow nodded. “Usually I would try to respect Gordon’s decisions even when he is not around but in this case our hands are simply being forced. Stephanie, do you believe in magic?”

And that was how she learned about magic. About skeletons and mages and fire and Elementals and Adepts and that her uncle had tried to keep her from such incredible things.

“Why didn’t Gordon want me to know about this?” She asked, feeling a little resentful.

“Your Uncle wanted you to understand the repercussions of making life decisions before you had to make one. I know that it may seem like he held you back from this, but he really just wanted to make you happy.”

Stephanie mulled it over in her mind. She supposed that was possible. It sounded like something he’d said once, so…

“Okay. So what are we doing today?” She asked again.

“Well, there is one more thing we need to tell you,” Panda said, scratching the back of his scared head. “Your uncle…”

“He was murdered,” Stephanie said. The others were incredibly quiet and looked almost guilty. “Yeah… I sort of got the impression when you started talking about that Serpine man, and how angry you are, and how much you all hate him, and how he keeps killing people. It was suspiciously stressed upon. I mean, it feels like you sort of wanted me to work it out. But Gordon told me you guys take down bad guys all the time. So you’re going to track him down, aren’t you?”

There was a long silence. “Fuck, this is going to be fun,” Wolf laughed, standing and pulling Stephanie into his arms. “Come along little brothers, we have a case to solve!”

Stephanie laughed and banged her head against the top of the door frame and laughed even more, falling over Wolf’s shoulder and just sort of hung there laughing. They were followed out to the cars. Panda’s van was there and so was Crow’s beautiful Bentley.

“So,” Wolf said when they were standing in front of their options. “Do you want to go with Skulduggery and visit China for information or do you want to go with Ghastly and help him make you some awesome new protective clothes?”

Stephanie pretended to think about it. “Crow. But I want to help afterwards.”

“That’s my girl,” and she was let down to get in the car. Wolf opened the door and pulled down the front seat for her. “In you get.”

Stephanie looked at the car. She looked at Wolf. “No.”

He hesitated. “Why?”

“I call shotgun.”

He grinned and she almost grinned back. “But I want shotgun.”

“I called it first,” she informed him. “Now get in.”

He sighed but did get in and Stephanie allowed herself to grin. It was a silly victory, but it was so fun to boss Wolf around.

Crow joined them and the three drove into the city to a residential area to park. Stephanie wasn’t worried about the car as she was too busy laughing with Wolf as he showed her his purple electricity magic.

“Aww, come on Crow,” she said, looking over her shoulder. He looked grumpy. “It’s not all that bad.”

He shook his head. “I promised Gordon I’d raise you into a respectable young woman with good prospects and without bias. Dexter is ruining that.”

“Are you saying Wolf is going to ruin me?”

“Yeah, don’t be so mean to my Cub!” Wolf defended her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“I will not be ruined by anything. I am quite happy here. I’ve wanted to get to know you all since I was a little kid and go on adventures and solve cases and have fun. I’m doing that. Isn’t that exactly what Gordon would have wanted?”

He sighed. “Of course,” Crow admitted. “But not like this.”

Stephanie didn’t have an answer to that. She just asked Wolf if he could electrocute her if he used his magic with his other hand if he was holding her. He laughed but she felt like electricity would flow through him to her – it wasn’t that bad of a question.

Crow went ahead of them into the dingy old building and the two made a ruckus laughing and joking about falling through the stairs. “You two need to quieten down,” Crow told them. “China won’t be happy if you don’t stop.”

“Whose China?” Stephanie asked.

“China is a lady I often go to for information. She is the most beautiful lady in the world and people fall in love with her on sight. She abuses that love and makes them bring her things for her collection. She owns a library, you see.”

“Oh. She doesn’t sound the nicest.”

“She isn’t,” Wolf said, more serious than she’d seen that day. “China isn’t to ever be trusted, but she is a good ally, and very useful for getting information. People talk to her you see. And one more thing before we go in,” he said as they stood in front of a man with a bow tie. “Do not tell anyone your name. If you do they can control you, remember?”

She nodded. “Never.”

“That’s my Cub.”

They went silently through the aisles of the library in search of the beautiful lady. Stephanie had been worried she wouldn’t know it was her but as soon as the woman was in front of her she could do nothing but stare entranced by her. She wanted to fall to her knees, kiss her feet, do anything and everything for her.

“China,” Crow said, “stop it.”

The wonderful creature laughed, making Stephanie think of little crystal bells blowing in the breeze, and the feeling of absolute devotion lessened to a minor obsession. “I’m sorry, I forget what effect I can have on new people, especially the young. Allow me to introduce myself: I am China Sorrows. And you are?”

Stephanie almost told her but Wolf squeezed her shoulder, where his arm still lay, and she shut her mouth again.

Wolf rolled his eye. “She’s too smart to fall for that.”

China grinned, and Stephanie felt she was being mocked. It certainly let her shake off a little more of the overpowering emotions she was feeling.

“Don’t you have anything for me today Dexter? Not even a hug?” China asked.

“Naa, this is my only girl now.”

“I see I’ve been replaced then, and I don’t even get to hear her speak. So, tell me, why are you visiting me today?”

Crow took over. “We have reason to believe Gordon was murdered.”

“By who?”

He was silent.

“Oh, no,” China said with a gentle laugh. “Not Serpine again? Skulduggery, you think Serpine is guilty of every crime you stumble across.”

“That’s because he usually is.”

“Well I still can’t help you. I have heard nothing but nonsense rumours that don’t even deserve to be called rumours,” she said with a smirk. “I imagine it would make you laugh.”

“What is it then?” Stephanie asked, getting annoyed at the back and forth.

China laughed. “The word is that Serpine has begun believing in fairy tales. In the Sceptre of the Ancients.”

Crow was silent for a moment. “Has he found it?”

“Skulduggery, dear, the Sceptre is a legend and nothing more. There is nothing to find no matter how much he searches.”

“If he’s looking it has some value.”

“That doesn’t mean it exists though, only that he has become more insane.”

“He doesn’t sound like a stupid man,” Stephanie said quietly. “If he thinks it’s real, there has to be a reason, and you said he was looking right? So, he has an idea of where it was. Does that mean he killed Gordon for it? Did Gordon have it?”

The adults looked at each other. “I think you found a lead,” Skulduggery said after a moment of consideration.

They left quickly, trotting down the stairs and out to the car. Crow called the others and put it on speaker, letting Stephanie hold the phone up for him while he drove to Panda’s tailor shop.

“What did you find?” Panda asked when he picked up.

“He’s searching for the Sceptre,” Crow said.

“How did you figure that out?” Weasel, who was really Saracen Rue, asked confusedly. “I never would have thought up that.”

“I didn’t need you to,” Crow said. “My partner in crime did.”

There was a short silence. “Why does she get to be yourapprentice? I want a prodigy too.”

Stephanie grinned and tried not to start giggling as all six men started bickering over her. Eventually it was too much, and she started laughing uproariously at them, making them stop. She could feel them get embarrassed and probably defensive, but it just made her laugh more.

“Oh, please, stop!” She choked out between her laughs. “I’m gonna pee.”

“No! Ghastly, she’s yours,” Crow said in a panic.

She snorted. “I’m not really.”

“She’s mine.”

“You never said about what I thought.”

“Ah, yes. Stephanie realised that Gordon must have had it in his possession at some point, or else had information on where it must be. That’s why Serpine killed him,” Crow said, working it through. “Remember the legends. There can only be one owner of the Sceptre. If Gordon found it after centuries of it being lost, then he was the owner. Upon his death, the Sceptre became free for the taking again, making Serpine able to take the Sceptre with no problems.”

“That means it must be in the mansion,” Stephanie said. “There’s so many trap doors and spaces in the walls, and he never let me in the basement or loft or most of the third floor, or the fourth at all. It could be anywhere in there.”

Crow nodded. “Exactly.” He pulled the car to park on a dodgy looking street. Crow told them they were coming to the shop and they hung up, Stephanie letting Wolf out the back at which point his protective arm returned to her shoulders. It was fun having a big brother.

The shop was grey and a little run down, like the rest of the area, but when they entered it was bight, open and nice looking, if a little like a bachelor pad that had clashed badly with silk, chiffon, tweed and every imaginable button, thread, colour and material. It somehow was still masculine, made better by the muscles on Panda as he run a black as night material through his sewing machine with tender care. She couldn’t help but grin.

“Where in the mansion?” Snake, really Erskine, asked when they had locked the door. They were sprawled around the room, leaving Stephanie the only person standing. They had even taken the table space. She sat, instead, on the arm of the sofa next to Anton.

“Under the mansion is a cave system,” Crow admitted. “Gordon said when he was looking for his home that it was the only place with a magic history – he only wanted one steeped in as much magic as possible – that had only a negative history attached to its magic. Of course, he loved the scandal and bought it, and said once that it had a cave system beneath it. He found a journal from the owner a year later and was raving that he got in and there’re magic creatures. I agree he could have decided to hide the Sceptre anywhere, perhaps to trick someone into going into the caves, but it doesn’t seem his style.”

“If Gordon loved magic as much as you say, and he has a magical cave system with magic security, why wouldn’t he hide it there? It sort of makes sense he’d decide that.”

“Precisely. The Sceptre is free for taking so long as you can get into the caves, so long as you can get passed the monsters and whatever other traps have been set up, if you can get out afterwards. It can be done, but can he do it before us?”

“Nope,” Stephanie said. “We have the house, we can get it today.”

“How do we get in?” Bear asked.

“We need a key. I doubt Gordon would have left that around the house,” Crow said, rubbing his bone jaw.

“So the key is to find the key,” Snake said, smirking. “Any ideas.”

They were silent thinking it through.

Crow cleared his non-throat. “Gordon said what I searched for was right in front of me.”

“Oh fuck,” Stephanie said, sagging. She got looks of shock and scandal, and a few winks. “Fergus and Beryl have the key.”

#skulduggery pleasant #skulduggery #valkyrie cain #valkyrie #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #raising cain #dead men #the dead men #YA fanfiction #family #romance #slowburn #derek landy #ff.net #wattpad #LGBT #LGBTQ+ #lesbian #bisexual #gay #magic #fantasy #Landy #chapter 4

[originalcontent]

Oooookay. Welcome back. Posting about pathologic part 4 I think? Part 4. We just reached Act 4 too, so everything’s going according to schedule. This gaming session had some ups and downs. Ups: That good good lore, and a lot of quality time spent with my good pals Daniil  and Changeling and also Clara apparently, although she might not be my good pal after all, but w/e. Downs: FUuuuUUUUCKkkk we are so bad at video games, and also the kin folk have become A Lot, holy shit. Where to start.

Okay so this time the game wasn��t actually super stressful for me personally bc this time I kind of just handed off the controls to my sister every time shit got dangerous. She’s a lot better at video games than me. Shoutout @akpaley​ for keeping me from dying from stress in real life.

The drawback of this is that since she’s a lot better at video games she’s also a lot more willing to actually take risks rather than just running away from literally everything. Which I won’t deny, has gotten us a lot of much-needed money and resources but also.

WELCOME TO THE FUCKING DEATH SPIRAL PART OF THE GAME. I guess it had to happen eventually, right? Fuuuuuuuck us, do you have any fucking idea how much shit you have to redo when you’re randomly shanked by some dude every fifteen minutes? And they’re harder to fight every time we come back, apparently, and also our health is like permanently half gone? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why are there not more clocks.

Victor Kain, you were the one who made the clocks?? I could fucking kiss you. I owe you my life. Or like, six hundred of my lives. Hhh.

Okay, seriously though, the clock lore is actually kind of sick. Victor told us that they’re smaller versions of the cathedral, and we were like “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THaT’S WHerE wE RESET THE GaME IN THe PROLOGUE!!!!!!! METAPHYSICS!!!!!!!!!” The Kains are so cool.

(Maria Kaina got infected tho. Sorry, you. :( Although technically that happens later.)

Um, we gave the rest of our shmowder to Khan. We’re out now. We’ve been looking for more but haven’t found anything.

Also we made a random potion, and the plague showed up and was like “fuck you,” and I was like “damn, calm the hell down, you’re the one fucking killing people.”

Met with the Saburovs more. They were like “we have another suspect!” and I was like “yeah they probably don’t but w/e” and my sister was like “they’re in an infected land and we should probably save their lives” and I was like “why do we care about helping the Saburovs again, literally all they do is accuse random people of killing my dad, the Kains are obviously the best family, we should just be throwing in with them” and she was like “that’s not all they do, they also run the guards, you know those guys who patrol plague districts?” and I was like “okay fuck you’re right let’s visit them” and it turns out that that there was actually some super cool lore pertaining to the town’s mistresses. Also, god if they don’t have some cool reflections. I love everything about this town’s history.

Afterwards we randomly decided to visit Yulia for literally no reason, and she was like “I’m glad you’re here, I have a lot of super heavy important shit to discuss with you about the Inquisition that will be here tomorrow, it sure is convenient that you’re in my neighborhood for some reason even though I live in an incredibly inconvenient location?” Also she knows something about the nature of Artemy, Daniil, and Clara-or maybe the Changeling but she called her Clara? Oh yeah, Daniil was there too for some reason. Poor guy, I don’t think he’s okay. He cried on my shoulder a lot, he was endearingly open and earnest and for once I felt bad about the dialogue options wherein Artemy throws shade.

And then Clara happened to be standing outside literally right then? I wonder if that was going to be a big quest location and we just happened to arrive right before the game told us to go there anyway. I think that’s it actually. We’re so good, damn. Clara keeps pulling shit and then immediately trying to reconcile and asking for help. I really like her, but we really shouldn’t be trusting her right?

Oh Murky was also there and she set up a meeting between us and her “friend” and that night we went and Clara and Changeling were both there and I’m so confused???? What is her deal? But!! Changeling facilitated a deal between me and the plague! And Murky is now off the hit list!!!!!!!!!! Does this mean she’ll live? Anyway the plague started talking to us, and our infection rose a bit in an unhealable way, and, dumbasses that we were, said “wow this is probably all just the natural consequence of the bargain we made. Guess there’s literally nothing we can do to address this.” (Spoiler: That is not the case, the cost of the pact was literally just that we became infected and would have to cure it with fire before it killed us. We figured that out eventually, I promise.)

Fast forward to the next day after we finish the day’s entire fucking plotline, when we have done literally nothing so our infection’s increased a shit ton and it starts actually killing us. And since we only have like half our potential health bar from getting killed so much, we literally can’t survive long enough to treat it. We run around trying to cure ourselves and die like ten more times before we finally accept that we just have to go back in time to before the infection was this bad, try to get cured immediately, and redo the whole day. There’s a whole fucking skeleton out by the theatre by now btw. Fucking death spirals. This play session took a long fucking time okay?

Alright, flash backward again. After talking with Changeling, we visit Stakh because after rescuing him twice in a row he promised we could talk. We go to his house and he’s sleeping, or maybe just pretending to sleep, but either way Artemy has the absolute sweetest little monologue, just talking to him, and so much has happened but I can tell there’s still a lot of tenderness there between them even if it’s buried deep, and it’s just such a soft scene against such a harsh story.

Guess who’s dead by morning.

The next day Aglaya showed up and was like “see me immediately,” so obviously we visit Capella and then town hall first off. Daniil’s there, he bitches to me about Aglaya for a bit. So cute, we really are friends. I promise to help him with corpse duty bc Capella wanted me to visit Grace anyway. We talk to the official people at the official desks, one is collecting babies, one is giving me some lunch money as a very good reward for being a very good little surgeon, and one is telling me that actually money is illegal now but here are some free coupons that actually are too cheap to buy anything with.

Aglaya is the woman from the prologue! Hhhh things are really building to a point, aren’t they. I wonder how Yulia knows her. But damn, the whole village was out there waiting to meet with her weren’t they.

I made a deal with the rat prophet to clear some space in the graveyard so Grace would be okay. Dunno what will come of that. I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately though.

I met with Oyun and gave him my dad’s house. I met with Aspity and was like “did you kill Stakh” and she gave me some vague shit, and in general I am very upset at the kinfolk right now but I tried to save them anyway. Went to the termitary and did the whole termitary thing. Wow that sure is a place, right? God, have I ever mentioned how much I love all the screaming soundtracks  in this game.

Damn, Taya’s whole child queen vibe is unsettling.

The whole termitary is horrible, and what the kin folk have been put through is horrible, but their obsession with blood and strength legit terrifies me. I’ve spent all my time until now trying to convince everyone that they aren’t bad, and that they aren’t to blame for the disease, but now they want to kill? And they really really really want me to be a killer too. And the whole thing with Taya is creepy as fuck too, she’s just a kid. Anyway, we’re sending Vlad the older to them, I don’t know whether he or his son deserves to be torn apart more, but Changeling was really upset at the idea of Vlad the younger going there, so I guess we’re backing her. We run all around town making sure the right Olgimsky is going, and then we realize we actually have a few hours left so we take a hospital shift too! And then we die of disease like six times.

Okay, flash forward again, we’ve gone back, gotten some guy to molotov cocktail us, redone the entire termitary thing, saved the game on Vlad’s clock after sending him to his doom (sorry dude). That’s where we’re at currently.

(Only it’s not actually, we went back and spent like an hour going back and forth between the termitary and Oyun again trying to deal with their shit, and everyone was like “murder all dissenters :D” and I was like “what the fuck” and the day was almost over but then a dude stabbed us and we randomly died, and none of these places had clocks, so at that point we were basically like “yeah it’s after midnight, let’s just call it quits.”)

Anything else......oh, the warehouses are at risk again. Notkin and Sticky, what would I do if anything happened to them. I hope my medicines are good enough, I gave some to Bad Grief too but now all there really is to do is wait. :(

Oh, I once again have thoughts on how fucking theatrical is it that everything in the game is simultaneously literal and metaphorical, it’s gorgeous, and have I mentioned the costuming choices for the Orderlies and the Plague, hhhhhhhh, not to say anything nice about Mark fucking Immortell, but he knows what he’s doing with this thing. Listen if this post weren’t already way too long I would just gush about the theatrical elements again, but sadly it is too long.

Okay, that was our latest session! We’ll be back either very soon or in like three weeks.

#kj plays pathologic #pathologic #pathologc 2 #this got so fucking long holy shit #also: can anyone tell me how old clara/changeling is? #teenager? twenties? #i initially guessed the latter but i'm growing unsure #theorizing that if clara's a teenager she might be the eighth? bc i still have no clue who that is and clara doesn't appear on the character #screen #but if she's an adult then that wouldn't make any sense

[nat-20s]

PROMPT! the first time the s1 archive gang hangs out outside of work (any variation of the group, doesn’t have to be All of them)

This is only the Archive Assistant sqaud, bc I’m sorry Jon, but no bosses allowed. Also it’s VERY silly and soft bc sometimes u just wanna write nice things u know

(also also fuck I lovecompletely missed that this said “first time” they hang out but uhh. I hope u like it anyway.)

Tim Stoker like to think that, sometimes, not to toot his own horn, but he can be something of a genius. When a cousin’s cousin had offered to let him use their cozy little cabin for a night or two in exchange for help with moving, he had been struck with what could only be humbly described as “inspiration of the most divine nature”. For, as nice as a Friday evening away from it all by himself sounds, it’s so much nicer for a Friday evening away from it all to serve as Archival Assistants Bonding Time™. Or well, more like Tim and Sasha, Who Are Already Best Friends Forever, Figure Out What Martin’s Deal Is, Because For A Guy So Chatty, He Sure Is Mysterious Time™, but that’s not nearly as catchy. Truly, his plan was brilliant, bringing two compatriots and an excessive amount of food and drink to a spot away from the prying eyes of the world and bosses, and feast in the openness and silliness that comes from having a great fucking time.

His plan, and his genius, were tragically derailed. While he knew on their drive up that the air was rapidly getting cooler, Tim couldn’t have even pretended to predict that an hour into their stay would bring a freak blizzard that means they’re snowed in for the next three days, which was 3 times longer than he had accounted on spending with his coworkers/friends. There was more than enough food to last them, and almost enough alcohol, but as Sasha so kindly put it:

“First you make us reenact the first scene of every bad teen slasher movie, now there’s a fucking white out. If we lose power, I’m telling you, there is absolutely going to be a murder.”

“Pfft, no way. The guy who owns this place is one of those weird ass prepper types, there’s a back up generator for the back up generator. And even if we did lose power, we’re all much more the “huddle for warmth under a shared blanket in front of the roaring fire” types than the “get panicked and stab someone in darkness” types, right? Back me up here, Marto.”

Martin, who at three shots in is both hilarious and mean, directs his response to Sasha. “in the event of a black-out I vote we kill Tim. I can take him down and you can finish the job.”

Sasha tips her cup at him, saying, “I like the way you think,” at the same time that Tim yells out, “Hey! Why am I the one dying?!”

Sasha tells him, “Duh. This whole thing was your idea, which makes you the Dr. Black* of this situation. Any good mansion murder mystery dictates the the host dies first. Then, in a moment of entirely unplanned synchronization, her and Martin start chanting, “Host dies first! Host dies first!”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck both of y’all, it’s not my fault that you’re both thoroughbred city slickers that can’t handle being in a cabin with plumbing and running water and electricity. Didn’t either of you go camping as kids?”

Sasha replies “No I’m far too pretty for that,” while Martin bursts out laughing. It takes about 20 seconds for him to settle down. Wiping away a tear, he elaborates, “Sorry, sorry, just. Can not imagine my mother on a camping trip.  I mean, sure, she probably hoped at one point or another that I’d be lost in the woods as a child, or maybe even now, but I think that’s a bit different.”

Tim leans over the kitchen counter, placing his chin in his hands as he says, “Oh shit, Martin lore. Spill the deets.”

Sasha, who’s loyalties tend to sway towards whatever’s most interesting in the moment, piles on with, “You called her your mother, not your mum. That’s means she’s pretty much a right bastard, or a member of the aristocracy, which is just another term for right bastard but you got to grow up as a rich kid. Am I right?”

It’s clear the the two of them have made a grave mistake. All joviality flees Martin’s expression, and he shrinks down both his physical presence and his voice to something that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, um, well, I definitely didn’t grow up as a rich kid. And, it terms of the ‘right bastard’ thing, she’s not- er. That’s to say, she’s- she’s sick and. She’s doing the best she can, given, given everything.”

Martin pointedly looks at his hands while Tim and Sasha panickedly look at each other. They go to either side of him, and when he doesn’t flinch away, they each place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tim immediately feels the itch to fill the heavy quiet, and he happens to know he has quite the talent for blazing on ahead after these kinds of moments. It’s how he’s survived basically party for the past decade. “Ooookay, I’m gonna go ahead and say that all depressing familial reveals shall be held off until at least the second night of being trapped. While Sasha may have irritatingly few skeletons in her closet in that regard-”

“I have Tory grandparents?”

“We all have Tory grandparents Sash, that’s absolutely nothing. As I was saying, while Sash’s family is boring and semi functional, you and me are gonna do some fuckin’ commiserating on our journey from work friends to friend friends. However, I’m going to have to be 40% drunker, go through a decently strong hangover, and then once again get hair of the dog drunk before I can even start to consider heading down that path. And in that spirit, I think it’s time to start up the drinking games. Truth or dare might end up a bit too heavy for our needs, but Never Have I Ever should suit us just fine. I know I’m gonna regret saying this considering Sasha is 100% going to target my ass, but I think we should establish that whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug the rest of the box wine.”

Sasha pipes up with, “Ugh, no, not drinking games, that’s such twenty-something bullshit. I expected better from you.”

“Hey, Martin is a twenty-something, so that still works fine actually-”

“Tim!”

“What?”

Martin’s directing wide, bordering on frantic, eyes at him, and Tim is almost certainly missing something, though he can’t for the life of him figure it out. Sasha’s head is bobbing slightly between the two of them, and shes apparently able to parse what Tim has not. “Oh! Martin, uh, I already know that you’re 2, and it’s cool.”

“Did..did Tim tell you or?”

Tim scoffs out an “I wouldn’t!” even though there’s a distinct possibility that, entirely on accident, he would, and Sasha makes a reassuring coo. “No, no, babe, nothing like that. It’s just that, uh, the Magnus Institute is kind of notorious for not doing any background checks pretty much ever, so when I get a new coworker, I..do it myself.”

Martin’s face blanches, and his eyes somehow get even wider. “Oh god, please don’t tell Jon or Elias, I know I don’t have the credentials, but I really need-”

“Woah, woah, I’m not gonna do that. First of all, archival assistant squad, we ride together we die together in a snowed in god forsaken log cabin, secondly, it’d be hypocritical as fuck if I got up your ass about qualifications. Not a single one of us is qualified for our jobs, not even Jon. Maybe especially not Jon. It’s like, raise your hand if you have a degree in library sciences. No one? Okay, cool, that’s not weird at all for an archive. Actually, maybe bring that up next time he gives you shit. He’ll be all like ‘bluh bluh, you didn’t document this spooky bullshit well enough, it’s not up to the High Standards here at Spooky Bullshit Emporium’ and you can be like ‘whatever buddy, you’re an English major, what do you fuckin’ know?’. It’ll be devastating. He’ll be devastated.”

Martin laughs in the manner of someone who knows that they shouldn’t be, and his shoulders relax into  a lower position. “Why would you want me to devastate him? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are, which is why we all collectively need to get back at Jon for acting like such a prick. He’s always been a bit temperamental, but I honestly don’t get what his deal is, especially with you. I mean, c’mon, you’re great, being mean to you is like kicking a puppy.”

“Thanks? I think?”

Tim pipes up with, “Oooo, since drinking games are apparently too childish for Sasha, what if instead we play ‘What’s Jon’s Deal Anyway, Featuring, Seriously, Why Target Martin, The Baby of The Archives’-”

“-That feels a bit reductive of who I am and I also I think I’m technically older than Jon?-”

“-Whoever comes up with the best explanation, and by best obviously I mean most entertaining, gets an all expense paid trip from the other two to one of the charity shops I know we all frequent.”

Sasha snorts, “Wow, a whole twenty quid, who could resist such temptation. But also, I’m in, I think I have a winner and I have a violent need to out-cardigan Jon.”

Martin’s relaxation is gone again, which Tim thinks need to be fixed through aggressively passing a glass of wine towards him. He takes it without protest, takes a long drink, and says, “This seems more like 3 am conversation than a 9 pm one.”

Sasha gives an encouraging nudge, prompting another drink, and replies, “Yeah, well, I am not gonna make it to 3 am. I’ve got about an hour until the Alcohol Sleepiness sets in, and I know Tim will be right behind me.”

“Sashaaaaaa, you’re ruining my reputation as a young-at-heart, party-all-night kind of guy.”

“Babe, you’ve complained about your bones aching often enough that you’ve never had that reputation.”

“Surrounded by mean drunks, that’s what I am. I should be pitied.”

Martin shoots a glance towards Sasha, then replies, “You’d be more pitiable if this entire thing wasn’t, you know, entirely your own fault.”

Sasha nods sagely, “It’s true. If you were pitiable then maybe you wouldn’t have to die first.”

“You know what? I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room, how about we divert some of that towards complaining about our bosses, as coworkers who are hanging out and having a good time and not bullying me are supposed to do.”

Sasha giggles slightly as she leans down and presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Aw, sorry, Tim. I promise to double cross Martin when if becomes killing time.”

Tim melts a little, even as he’s replying, “Wait, when?” Martin takes another sip and says, “Whatever. I could take you both.”

How the hell are you supposed to resist a set up like that? With an over the top wink and cheesy grin, Tim says, “I bet you could, big guy.”

He’s expecting a slightly flustered reaction, maybe a higher pitched voice and a blush, if he’s lucky. He gets all of those things, but it’s Sasha saying, “Oh my god.” Martin only gives him a raised eyebrow and level stare, and Tim makes a mental note to reevaluate his dedication to only considering Martin in a strictly platonic fashion. Sasha continues talking, cutting through the..tension? with, “Okay, now I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room. Tim, tell the studio audience what you think is up with Jon.”

Tim blinks, hard, gives a shake of his head, and says, “Oh, obviously the Jon we know is dead. His ‘promotion’ to Head Archivist was actually Elias killing him off and replacing him with a robot that has the command If: see Martin Then: be dick. Don’t worry Marto, now that Sasha is aware of the issue, she’ll surely be able to reprogram him.”

Sasha hums a bit, then says, “I buy it. I think my explanation’s better, but Elias does seem the “kill a dude and replace him” type. Like if I was gonna suspect any particular person of murder he’s in the top five.”

“Seriously? Elias? Somehow has middle manager vibes even though he’s the head honcho Elias? Mr. ‘I probably wore boat shoes and khaki shorts for the entirety of university’ Bouchard? Voted most likely to put a thin layer of mayo in between two pieces of white bread and claim it’s a sandwich Elias? The area man that’s almost certainly gone on record as saying that golf and networking are his favorite hobbies Elias? He’s far too boring to have committed a murder.”

Tim’s looking at Martin with shock and delight, and he knows Sasha is wearing the exact same expression. “More of this. Please describe more of the things that Elias is.”

“I mean, sure? Uhh, guy that would pay $80 for a dime bag because you told him it’s a premium strain. Person that ironically says things like “kids these days” and “the youths” and you know he’s talking about people well into their 30s. Genuinely believes that if you can afford a cell phone then you shouldn’t be complaining about being  poor, because apparently a one time purchase of around a hundred bucks is the same as trying to pay monthly rent. Tells people to haul themselves up by their bootstraps. Thinks he got to where he was ‘without anybody’s handouts’ even though he’s had a trust fund since he was 15. Writes weekly editorials to the local newspaper complaining about the liberalization of media, and they’re like ‘sir, please stop submitting to us, we’re just trying to talk about Lisa’s gardening club’ because they can’t professionally tell him to fuck off. Thinks salt and pepper are the only spices one could ever possibly need, everything else is simply excessive. Somehow gay and homophobic. Like, yes, he’s taken a male lover, but he’s also seconds away from calling you a slur at any one time. Actually, no, that’s too interesting, and I refuse to believe he’s had a lover. Legally, he cannot have a lover, I’ve decided, so just gay and homophobic, both in theory alone. Has said that Boris Johnson is “a bit much, but really not so bad, and much better than any of the alternatives, really.” All of the cousins in his family banded together and officially got him banned from any sort of major holiday dinners. Basically every shitty boss you’ve ever had, especially if you’ve worked retail, rolled into one.”

Tim lets out a low whistle. “Damn, all right. Get fucked Elias.”

Sasha emphatically agrees, “Get fucked Elias.”

They all clink their glasses together, and then there’s a beat of silence before Martin says, “I’m pretty sure robots can’t get eye bags.”

Tim and Sasha let out a “huh” and “hmm?” respectively, so Martin elaborates. “You posited that Jon had been replaced with a robot. Pretty sure robots aren’t able to look that tired.”

Tim snaps. “Drat, you’ve pointed out the one flaw in my impeccable logic. So what d’you think is up with him? I know you don’t have the Before The Archives comparison, but I think you could provide a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Two months ago, I might have had some choice words, but first off, you all genuinely got on, so it didn’t really make sense for him to be awful all the time, and secondly ever since the, um, worm thing, he’s actually been pretty nice? I haven’t heard any snide comments, and whenever I mess something up he’s a lot more, um, gentle about explaining what wrong. He actually complimented my work the other day so. I guess I think Jon’s deal was that he was stressed out and I was very nervous and not very good at my job and he picked up on that?”

“So you think he’s like a horse.”

“Explain.”

“He sensed your fear and he became skittish and irritable in kind.”

“Horses can sense fear?”

“Horses can sense everything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Right?”

“Guys, we’ve gone on like four different tangents in one conversation. Martin, I’m very glad to hear that Jon’s changed his behavior towards, because it means I don’t have to yell at him on your behalf, you’re getting to see the person that me and Tim both know who is actually pretty cool, and also mostly because it feeds perfectly into my winning theory.”

“What, you’ve got something better than Martin’s ‘accurate but boring’ reasoning or my ‘super cool but now that I think about it for .5 seconds actually kind of a bummer robot’ knowledge?”

Sasha’s incredibly self-assured when she says, “I sure fuckin’ do. Jon’s secretly been in love with Martin the whole time, and he’s been previously overcompensating by acting like he hates him.” which makes Tim choke on air and Martin emphatically reply, “Fuck off, he is not.”

“No, no, hear me out, I have, I have receipts, as the kids say. First point of evidence: Martin’s stupid hot, and there’s no way that Jon is straight, so obviously he’s not gonna be impervious to that.”

“What?”

“Oh come off it Martin, it’s just a fact. Like, me personally? I don’t even do the whole romance thing, but the first time I ever saw you I blacked out slightly and thought ‘Now there’s a man I could raise some ferrets with.’.”

“I, um, I, well. Is that...supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

“What? No, I’ve just always wanted ferrets, and asking someone to raise pets with you is like the height of romance, I’m pretty sure. Back me up here Tim.”

“On the ferret thing or the Martin hot thing?”

“Either? Both.”

“Aight. Yes, asking someone to raise ferrets with you is basically a marriage proposal if that someone is Sasha, and I hate to break it to you Martin, but you’re incredibly good-looking. We’re all incredibly good-looking, to the point where I think the only qualification for the archives staff is being a straight up hottie. OH! We should name the group chat “straight up hottie squad”. Anyway, yep, point for Sasha.”

“Not a point for Sasha, even if I believe you about about my, em, physical attractiveness,-”

“-Don’t have to put belief in a fact, Marto-”

“-that doesn’t mean anything. By that logic, he’s equally as likely to be in love with either of you, and my money would be on Sasha if it was anyone, because you’re clearly his favorite.”

“Ah, but that’s exactly why it isn’t me, but thank you for the transition into my second point which is: Jon is the kind of person that sees anything that might make him vulnerable and starts aggressively defending himself against it, and what’s more vulnerable than a crush? He’s not crushing on Tim, because Tim’s fucking great, but sometimes he’s also the walking, talking embodiment of sensory overload, and while I myself I love that, Jon clearly gets a bit overwhelmed by it at times. He’s not into me, because he knows better than that, and overall I’m pretty non-threatening to his whole thing, so of course he’s going to be the most relaxed around me. You, on the other hand, are single, hot, kind to animals and people alike, and make a great cup of tea. Incredibly crush worthy, thus incredibly threatening, thus Jon acting like That.”

“Hmm, this still seems like something that comes from watching one too many corny rom coms, and that’ s coming from someone who loves corny rom coms.”

“I also love corny rom coms, but that’s completely beside the point. Because, okay, sure, if Jon had just been a weird asshole to you, I wouldn’t be like ‘oh, yeah, that’s a classic case of covering for something’ but you’re right about him being nicer since the worm thing. So nice, in fact, I shall be bringing in Timothy as my star witness that’s going to blow this whole case wide open. Martin, you may not have heard how Jon has started to talk about you, but me and Tim sure have.”

“God, yeah. Like if we thought he wouldn’t shut up about you before-

“-which he wouldn’t-”

“it’s gotten way worse now.”

“I think the whole life threatening worm woman flipped a switch for him and now he’s all fuckin. ‘Oh, Martin should stay in the archives, let me give him the place that I sleep.”

“Oh, Martin, I don’t think he should go out on too many research trips anymore, I’d much prefer for him to be ~nice and close~”

“Oh, Martin, good lord, did you know that his tea is quite good? I’m think it might actually be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Martin, his work’s rather improved, don’t you think? It’s really quite impressive, especially considering all the stress he’s had to endure.”

“Oh, Martin, I just want him to take me into his big, strong arms and whisk me away from all of this.”

“He did not fucking say that last one.”

Sasha throws her arms up in the air. “He may as well have!”

Nodding sagely, Tim replies, “This whole thing holds water. I vote Sasha gets the shopping trip. Martin?”

Martin stares at his drink as if it has any ability to give him any sort of answers, then lets out a sigh with his entire body. “You know what? It’s probably nicer than whatever the fuck is the truth, so sure, why not? Let’s get Sasha her cardigans.”

Sasha lets out a whoop. “Hell yeah! Can’t wait for spree, assuming all three of us get out of this cabin alive.”

“Okay, nope, clearly Sasha needs another distraction. Got any suggestions, Martin?”

“Uh, wasn’t a karaoke machine part of the sales pitch for this place?”

“Martey babey, yes! I wouldn’t have thought you’d spring for that sort of thing!”

“If this were a public bar or something where I’d have to listen to drunk strangers and they’d have to listen to me, then no, I’d rather have my brain pulled through my nose a la mummification. But with only you guys and fourish drinks in? I’m down to clown.”

“Sash, you with us?”

“Dunno, what songs are there?”

Tim shrugs, and heads to the storage closet that contains all the various entertainment equipment. It takes a bit of searching, and a bit more digging, but he’s able to unearth the ancient portable karaoke machine. He also grabs some of the jigsaws, mostly on the thought that sometimes a bitch just wants to hang out with their friends and do a puzzle. Also because in light of the fact that they’re stuck inside with no sort of access to the outside world for two days longer than planned, there’s pretty much no way that they’re not going to reach a point where they all say fuck it let’s do a puzzle.

Plugging in the machine, it takes a solid several minutes to boot up, which is the perfect length of time to take it upon himself to take one for the team and chug the box wine himself, with Sasha and Martin chanting in the background. When he finishes, they cheer, and then Martin immediately shoves a glass of water for him to down as well, muttering something about how he wants him to be alive in the morning. Tim can tell he’s well inebriated by now, because the simple thoughtful gesture is enough to make him a little bit misty-eyed, and Sasha can attest to alcohol turning him into the world’s biggest sap. In order to avoid prevent himself from becoming the kind of person who says “I love you” in a gradually more sloppy repeat, he starts flipping through the discography of the now running machine. “Alright y’all, it looks like we got 80s songs or...80s songs. Ooo, they have the Grease 2 soundtrack.”

That gets him a well deserved “No!” from both parties, with Sasha adding on, “Not even if it was Grease 1. I’m putting an embargo on musical theater in general.”

“Oh come on, some musicals are better than other. Right, Marto?”

“I’m with Sasha on this one.”

“Boo. But fine, what do you want?”

Martin and Sasha glance at each other, and Tim’s amazed at how well the bonding night-turned-long-weekend has gone so far, considering they seem to have already mastered the art of silent communication. Martin speaks first, with, “They got Dolly Parton?”

The process of scrolling through individual letters to type is achingly slow, but luckily all he needs to get through is “DO” before she shows up. “They do.”

Sasha says, “Do they got 9 to 5, by Dolly Parton?”

Tim’s eyes light up with realization as he says, “They do,” and in a moment of spontaneous understanding, all three of them know that they’re not simply going to sing 9 to 5. No, they’re going to do a  full blown music video for the benefit for nobody but themselves, because why the fuck not.

The next hour is spent in a very silly fashion. They figure out how to use the cabin’s layout to their advantage, assign various parts of the song to each person, and practice their inexpert choreography a few times with the song tinnily blasting from Sasha’s phone. The final result is hardly of professional quality, but it is of making them all giggle quality. It starts off in a relay like manner, each of them in a different area to coordinate with “Tumble of out bed and stumble to the kitchen” (Sasha on the couch), “Pour myself a cup of ambition”, (Tim at the coffemaker), and “Yawn and stretch and try to come to life” (Martin at the fridge), with them finally crowding around the karaoke machine together to scream sing the chorus. Despite their practice, they quickly go off key, and while they might end up with low points for accuracy, they get full marks on enthusiasm.

When the song ends, it takes them a few minutes to settle down into something less giddy. As they do, Sasha, out of breath, says, “Fuck me, I’m sleepy now. What the hell?”

Tim hums in affirmation. “Goddammit, I’m tired too. Let me guess, Martin, you’re young enough that you could go all night?”

“No? I’ve never pulled an all-nighter in my life. Actually, I know that it was supposed to be in case the power went out, but huddling together under a blanket in front of a fire sounds really nice? I mean, um, if you guys were down.”

Sasha leans her head against Martin’s shoulder and takes on the expression of a deeply content cat. “Mmm, I call Martin, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely not, I also want to leech Martin’s warmth. You good with being in the middle?”

Martin’s practically beaming, but his voice manages to almost fake being put upon. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice I could make.”

With Sasha already half asleep, Martin brings her over to the couch, while Tim gets them all set up. He manages to find the kind of big, fluffy blanket that all cabins should contain and wraps it around their shoulders. Luckily for them, the fireplace is gas lit and can be put on a timer. He sets it for 30 minutes, even though all three of them are going to be long passed out before them. Sasha is already softly snoring away, and Martin’s head keeps drifting down and snapping back up. Tim curls up against Martin’s other side, and even though all three of them are going to wake up with aching backs and worse heads, he thinks he really just might be a genius after all.

*Why is Mr. Boddy’s name Dr. Black in the UK. I hate that. Why would you not have the dumb joke of  naming the victim “boddy”. Hey brits explain your crimes.

#anon #replies #nat fic #tma #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james

[grimelords]

I have been unbelievably busy for all of 2020 so far. Starting a new job and crunching to finish an old one, it's been very good but it has also meant that I haven't had the downtime I'd have liked in order to write long screeds about when drums sound good in songs so my December and January playlists unfortunately never got finished. They will exist as 'lost' playlists in the grimelords canon where you will simply have to listen to them and have your own thoughts about the songs instead of having your judgement clouded by me saying things like 'this sounds nice' and 'I love when the guitar goes woo-eee'.

You can listen to them here:

December https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4crPEVSPwftPpWl14xUrXF

January https://open.spotify.com/playlist/25MP7onYLCwWRYBIi0u3yc

As far as this, my February playlist goes: It's great! It's two and a half hours. The songs sounds nice and the guitars go woo-eee. I was worried I wouldn't be able to listen to as much music with my new job but it turns out I'm listening to more than ever which is extremely nice. Please enjoy, and if you'd like to subscribe to this playlist please do so here: https://tinyletter.com/grimelords

Listen to this playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ZraEZOeS6qvVxfnz3AJS9

Ballad Of The Skeletons - Allen Ginsberg, Paul McCartney, Phillip Glass and Lenny Kaye: I had a dim childhood memory of this 1996 Hottest 100 funny skeleton song that my sister randomly brought up this month and was was shocked to find out that somewhere deep in my brain the part where the electric chair skeleton says “hey what’s cooking???” was still stored. I was also shocked to find out that the funny skeleton song I remembered from when I was a kid was actually a collaboration between Allen Ginsberg, Paul McCartney and Phillip Glass and was an unexpected hit on MTV and Triple J in 1996 for an as yet unknown reason.

I Can Go With You - Sam Burton: This song came up in my Discover Weekly, and I was so excited to listen to more of this 70s singer songwriter I've never heard of before who has no doubt had a long and illustrious career and was shocked to find out that not only is this song from 2020, it is also the first and so far only release by Sam Burton and his debut album is coming out sometime this year. I love how plain it is, and the first time I heard it it made no impression on me until a couple of hours later when I realised I was humming the melody to myself. It has this decepitive simplicity to it, and it sounds like a song you've always known which is really about as good a compliment as you can give a song. I also love this statement from him: “I was writing a song a day for 30 days as a personal challenge to myself. I Can Go With You came near of that practice and I considered it a throwaway at the time. After recording most of the album I still needed a couple more songs and decided to throw it on and we recorded it live followed by two others. When I listened back it ended up being one of the tracks I was happiest with on the record.” I love when artists are asked about songs and they have no divine inspiration to relate, just a process of daily work where they're like "well, I wrote it, like I always do. Did the chords and the words and everthing just like normal. I write hundreds of these things and this one came out pretty good. I don't know what else to tell you."

Wild Dogs - Colter Wall: This is a song by Billy Don Burns who you can probably expect to see on this playlist next month, and who as I understand it is one of these 'real' country guys that have been around for a million years and only ever had success when other people sang their songs. So it's very nice of Colter Wall to continue that tradition for him. I love the way this song takes the metaphor to a place of almost uncomfortable literalism, a tryst metamophising into something private, bloody and feral. The subtle way the lap steel whines slowly along in the background before stepping out and taking centre stage once the song picks up steam near the end is a marvel too.

Tom's Diner - Suzanne Vega: I had a live version of this randomly recommended to me by youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkYPge6ZKSQ and it made me see this song that I'd always been sort of aware of in a new light and really properly appreciate it for the first time. Somehow I'd never noticed the last verse where it moves from literalism to memories, and of course that's sort of the moment that ties the whole song together. What I really appreciate about the acapella arrangement is that it feels like this is a song that's existed a million times before but she's the first person to actually write it down and record it. Everyone's made up a little dishwashing song or a little walking song, reciting some to-do list in your head. It's an entire genre that exists under people's breath for a few minutes and gets immediately forgotten.

If You Don't Know Now, You Never Will - Drugdealer: I could have sworn this was a Tobias Jesso Jr song. I really just assumed it was until I looked at the credits. It's such a nice song though and I'm glad this sort of 70s californian vibe is making a quiet comeback because it is just uniformly pleasant and it's nice to hear these sorts of arrangements, with the accenting violin runs and things like that. All the extra decorations and ornamentations that have sort of disappeared.

Crimson Tide - Destroyer: I absolutely love this new Destroyer album because it just feels like such pure uncut Destroyer. I’ve always thought of him as a sort of 400 year old vampire lounge singer who is just amusing himself at this point and so the cover art has really confirmed my suspicions on that front. The lyrics through this whole album are so good, the sort of stream of consciousness strangeness like ‘when lightning strikes twice the funeral goes completely insane’ that takes a on such gravity because he sings it with complete deadpan seriousness.

Truth (feat Alicia Keys and The Last Artful, Dodger) - Mark Ronson: I didn't really give this album a chance when it came out but ever since I found out Alicia Keys is good now (Time Machine) I've been looking for more good Alica Keys work and found one here. The Last Artful, Dodger is one of the worst artist names I think I've ever heard but she absolutely kills it on the way she says biiiiitch so I'll forgive it.

Surf & Turf - Boldy James + The Alchemist: Alchemist's production on this whole album is so incredible. He really just lets Boldy go and doesn't get in his way like good production should. Especially on the opening verse where Boldy James sticks with that loping flow for so long in 3s over 4 that matches that arpeggios in the beat, it's just a perfect harmony of rapper and producer.

Fat Mac - Duke Deuce: Misogyny in rap is a real issue that nobody seems really allowed to talk about because it's obviously very complicated, and this song some real classic 'stay in the kitchen' type woman hating in it and is basically incredibly callous and cruel throughout. However this beat is hot and there is also a part about a third of the way through where he says "fuck her till that pussy fart" and then makes a big fart noise, so.

Set It Up (feat. Trina) - Kamaiyah: I only found out about Kamaiyah's fantastic 2016 album A Good Night In The Ghetto about two weeks before her new one came out so I've been on a real Kamaiyah hype for a little while now. She's just fantastic. I love this song because I love the part where Trina seemingly out of the blue threatens to piss in my mouth. The first time I heard it I said 'wow!' out loud.

Come As You Are - Greg Phillinganes: There's something going on with the pop math in this song that I just can't put my finger on. It feels for all intents and purposes like this should be a hit. The melody is great. The big synth voice is great, it's got extremely fatty bass. It's great! But something about the structure of it is just off, it's got too many sections or something. Which kind of makes me love it more really.  

Devotion - Pure Bathing Culture: What surprised me the most about this song is the secret shredding happening throughout. It feels like a sort of clean and cool guitar that hasn’t existed in the wild since the Lethal Weapon soundtrack and it adds such an energy to this already completely wonderful song.

Paper Cup - Real Estate + Sylvan Esso: The production on this song is just so beautiful. The violin melody and the pillow soft synths really add such an extra dimension to it. The tone on everything really. The guitar in the solo. Every time I listen to this song I just want to listen to it again because it goes down so smooth.

Mark Zuckerberg - Nap Eyes: I’m a very big fan of the way this song transitions from a sort of TMBG novelty song halfway through into a lonely and beautiful thing instead. It’s like he got distracted and wandered off in the middle of his set but the camera followed him. I also haven’t heard a lyric in a long time that made me bark laugh so instantly as “And what does he do with all that sand? He collects sand right? I think I read that somewhere. Seems innocent enough.”

Viking Hair - Dry Cleaning: I fell in love with this band immediately on hearing this song. The way the spoken lyrics sit in a place of almost coherence, dipping between mysterious phrases and earnest admissions feels like Life Without Buildings for a new generation. I love the feeling of a huge crush at the centre of this song that comes through achingy in every single word, even when she's talking about abandoned refrigerators.

LeBron James - Do Nothing: This is my number one song this month I think. I've listened to it every single day and I cannot wait to see what this band does once they've got more than a couple of songs out. It's my absolute favourite kind of lyrics: the kind that sounds like you just wrote down every one-sided phone conversation you overheard on the bus and then the music is some halfway point between Black Midi and Franz Ferdinand. What else do you need!

Can I Receive The Contact? - The Spirit Of The Beehive: The Spirit Of The Beehive's album is one of the best I heard this month. The way the production incorporates sound collage and samples without diluting the immediacy of the songwriting is really something special that feels hard to pull off in a rock context but sounds effortless through this whole album. The way this shifts at the end into the odd time section is so great and really the way the whole album flows like one long track is just amazing. Please listen, I'm obsessed.

An Air Conditioned Man - Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever: There is so much space in Rolling Blackouts songs. They just go and go, sitting in this great jam space without feeling shaggy. The tempo across the album stays pretty consistently at this breezy, upbeat, driving speed that makes it feel like as soon as one song ends the next one just picks up exactly where it left off. It almost feels like a studio confines them and they'd be better off just recording their album live at a show where every song can go for 8 minutes like it wants to.

Leak -Truth, yesnoyesnoyes- - Boris: I got to see Boris and Merzbow this month, which was a great treat for me but it was also at a seated theatre venue which was a very strange choice. Sitting down and clapping politely as Merzbow pressed the screaming button feels odd, like being at an 1800s World's Fair show about the wonders of electricity or quite literally like being the guy in the chair getting blown away by the speakers in the Maxell ads. I bought earplugs for the show but ended up pulling them out for the last three songs or so to properly experience it, and it was fucking great. Something I was thinking about after the show is that it's interesting how Boris mostly have clean vocals, and really approach metal as an idea from and angle that's more shoegaze than Slayer. Aside from the immense volume, there isn't a lot about their music that I would describe as agressive, even most of what Merzbow added to the set was just extra feedback frequency noise, not atonal agression. I don't mean this in a trve kvlt way, more like it's interesting how they've taken the aesthetics of metal and refined them into pure amplifer worship, in their words, by either playing straight drone, or just playing normal hard rock at inhuman volumes. Boris are very good is what I'm saying, and I can't wait to listen to more of their extremely large discography.

Nameless Streets - Defeater: I've never really listened to much hardcore and I'm not really sure why. I've listened to Defeater's first two albums to death though so maybe it's time to branch out. What I love about this song, and this band in general is the vocal delivery. In a lot of agressive music from metal to screamo, because the agression and emotion is always sitting at a 10 the nuance can get lost and it becomes a sort of white noise, but Defeater have a nice way of backing off musically and vocally here and there to let the hard hits really hit hard. The outro to this song is also some absolutely world class snare work, building a tension bed in the simplest way thats relieved when the rest of the band comes crashing back in.

Boys In Town - Divinyls: I love the true desperation in this song. The trapped in a small town, surrounded by fuckers stress that gives way in the second half to just screaming "get me out of here!!". I am also interested in the evolution of the phrase 'too much, too young' and would like to know whether this song is referencing the song by The Specials, and if the Defeater song on this playlist is referencing this song or The Specials song, or if all three came up with it independently. It's a simply enough phrase, I suppose they could have. Who cares, really.

Body By Crystal - Spike Fuck: Come on a journey with me and imagine a world where Alex Cameron makes good music. That's Spike Fuck! The sort of burned out, past their prime singer desperate for a hit in any sense type of character - except actually put together with some heart and emotion and not an 80s comic book writer's understanding of human lows. I cannot wait to hear more from Spike Fuck.

Rogue Wave - Aesop Rock: It is something of a marvel how consistently high quality Aesop Rock's work is. For all his verbosity and expansive vocabulary he seems to never veer into white guy rap god flexing for the sake of it. Even a song like this that's 3 minutes of dense verses with nothing resembling a hook doesnt feel exhausting, it just feels like a series of extremely pleasing words and images like "take it where the warlocks lock horns, soda pop, popcorn / top notch gore set to Bach over fog horns" that makes my brain go "nice".

Momentary Bliss (feat. Slowthai and Slaves) - Gorillaz: I love the strange rollout Gorillaz are doing for this album, building the tracklist one song at a time. It's a nice way to force close listening, especially in songs with odd structures like this. I love hearing how different prouction changes Slowthai's approach; on this and Deal Wiv It that he did with Mura Masa it feels a lot brighter than anything on Nothing Great About Britain and there's a playfulness in his flow that comes through accordingly. Gorillaz are always moving around musically but I love how much of a live band feel this has compared to the more studioy sound that killed their last album for me.

We Will Always Love You (feat. Blood Orange) - The Avalanches: I am so excited at the possibility of a new Avalanches album already, and this is the perfect song to have as a lead single because it functions more like a teaser. Like 'would you like an hour more of this kind of beautiful, loving dream?'

Tar Sequence - Lalo Schifrin: I found out a little while ago that the local news theme when I was growing up was actually this song from the score to Cool Hand Luke, and according to a bunch of other guys in the youtube comments it was the local news theme for a lot of stations across America as well. The scene is of a prison road gang working under the blazing sun, and I'm sure someone could write a thinkpiece about the soundtrack to the nightly news, and really the platonic ideal of news themes in general stemming from the score to a scene about prison labour. But not me! I'm just going to write this little post and say we all owe Lalo Schifrin our lives for inventing the sonic pallette of kung fu AND the news, which is an incredible achievement whichever way you slice it.

When You - Tha Pope: It's a little bit of a shame that footwork is 'over' now but I suppose that's the way of things. The intro to this song is an absolute all timer for me. The delay soaked tag, the extended organ lick and then a total gear shift into this shrieking vocal sample that sounds like something has gone wrong but is revealed in actuality to be the centre of the whole track. I absolutely love Pope's little adlib at the start, and halfway through when he brings it back - it injects some real humanity into this cacophonous, volatile song and lets you know someone's done this on purpose, they've not just turned every dial to 10 and pressed play.  

Jonny/Jonny (Reprise) - Faye Webster: I am absolutely in love with the tone of Faye Webster's voice and especially the way she slowly slides up to the note at the end of every line in the verse. This is a song that belongs to the great genre of songs that sound like they were entirely written and performed while laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. The reprise here comes back at the end of the album and I love it so much. It feels like a Sex And The City monologue set to music, an underexplored genre I'd definitely like to hear more of.

Holes - Matt Berninger: Matt Berninger of The National covered Mercury Rev's Holes for a series of charity 7"s that Planned Parenthood are doingand I really love his take on it. It's a difficult song to cover because it is so beloved, and I think he does really well to not smooth out the arrangement into any sort of easy listening version. The rumbling piano and the extra vocals that mirror the original saw sound near the end are just wonderful. The part that always breaks my heart in this song is the "bands" line at the end and he really does it perfectly without being overdramatic.

Ta Aro - Nadia Reid: I love the way this song is just soaked in tension and potential energy. She has a beautiful way of holding a note just past the edge of her breath, like when she sings 'glory hallelujah' or 'I am stronger' and in the wordless refrain that just draws me in. Then the way it all closes in on itself and shadows close in at the end while it swells to this beautiful thunderstorm of sound. Just great.

Purify - Neurosis: Someone had a tweet a while ago that was like 'listen to a new album every day in February and write about it' and I thought 'fuck it why not' and started doing that. I kept a little note in my phone of every album I listened to that I'd never heard before, and I ranked them out of 5 so I could remember which ones I liked. I ended up listening to 49 new albums which surprised me, and it was surprisingly easy to do as well so I've decided to keep doing it in March as well. Highly recommended. A nice side effect of constantly searching for new things to listen to is it's given me a chance to hear bands that I've always heard about and know the name of but never actually listened to for one reason or another, which is how I got to Neurosis. It's nice to hear this kind of industrial 90s metal that I'd only ever previously heard in Tool from another angle, and it is especially nice to hear bagpipes in a drone metal context - a thought I'd had independently about a week before hearing this album and was glad to have willed into existence before me.

Shallow Sun - Real Estate: Time! I love a song about aging that mentions specific years and ages so you can count along on your fingers. '25 in 2010... so he was 24 when they put out in their first album.. 39 in 24.. so he's... 35 now.. and i'm 28... which means I'm... 3 albums behind..'

Quand Vas Tu Retrer - Melody's Echo Chamber: I'll listen to any song in 5/4. It is simply groovy. This song is so beautifully textured it feels like you can just get completely lost in the sound while the groove moves it along.

Living Through Another Cuba - XTC: I think I've posted this song on one of these playlists before but fuck it, the more time passes the more I think this might be one of the best songs ever written and a complete and total encapsulation of the cold war mood. The absolute maniac resigned powerlessnes on full display, screaming and shouting about pullings fins from an atom bomb and the absolute certainty that even if the world isn't destroyed this time it'll all come around again soon enough anyway.

Time - U.S. Girls: I am a huge proponent of the long song at the end of the record as a concept, and really I believe every song should be the long song at the end of the record if at all possible. This amount of colour in this jam is just incedible, it never gets weighed down or waylaid it just keeps moving though an ever shifting kaleidoscope and I absolutely love it. It also reminds me of Los Bitchos who were on one of my secret lost playlists from December so it's nice to have their vibe represented here at least. This song also interestingly ties into a thought I was having this week about the limits of music wherein time is the only immutable constant. In all of life music is an inescapable constant of course, but in music especially compared to visual art or written art, time is an inexorable force. You simply cannot bend time in music, a song or performance will always have a duration that will define it, short or long, which cannot be muted or played with in the same way that rhythm or tonality can. 4'33" is a good example of that, being devoid of everything except time. When there is nothing, there is still time. Canyons of time.

Bad Magic - Weyes Blood: I got to see Weyes Blood a couple of weeks ago and I feel extremely blessed that I did. She's just amazing. She played this song solo as her last encore, and she's in a sort of interesting position of blowing up majorly on her fourth album so people (myself included) weren't overly familiar with her older stuff. So when she said 'this is a song called Bad Magic' everyone clapped politely and one woman right up the back screamed "oh my GOD??" which is the kind of personal, just for her, singular experience I'm always here for. Hearing this song for the first time in that setting has really made me fall in love with it. The thing that's always alienated me a little abot Weyes Blood's earlier work, and the thing she changed so dramatically on Titanic Rising is the structuring of her songs. Titanic Rising embraces pop songwriting so wonderfully where her earlier work was so much shaggier and harder to access as a result - but in this song I love it. This song is meandering and long and wanders around in circles and I'm here for every second of it.

Listen to this playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ZraEZOeS6qvVxfnz3AJS9

#playlists

[1985music]

Assembly of the Gods

Twon, If you're reading this it's too late my G. 

I'm never sure where to begin with these stories. Y'all remember when Nas spit a whole story backwards? Nevermind forget it. 

The year is 2013, I believe, and it's a rainy night in the fall. My boy Robbie Maxx drags my wife and I to a Meek Mill show in Teaneck NJ, just to peep the scene. The parking lot is a mad house of course. We had to wait in line and shit, which wasn't the vibe. We finally get in the spot, it's already packed and the opening acts are doing their thing. This one performer caught my attention. This short, energetic kid with his squad on stage with him screaming, "UPPERCLASS!". The young boy with the name "TWON" gleaming off his hat was spitting some fire with no fear or nervousness to a sold-out crowd in his hometown. Pretty dope performance overall. Soon after his exit from the stage Meek would come out and make is presence known. I knew that wasn't the last time I'd see or hear from that Twon guy. 

Some months later Maxx would headline a show at this spot called Mexicali Live (Debonair Lounge) and guess who he throws on the bill? You guessed it, TWONDON. It had been a while since I last saw the kid and this go-around the music was a bit different. He performed and did his thing much like the first time I saw him. He was chopping it up with his fans/supporters after his performance, so I had to wait to talk to him. I hate that sh*t. I was able to properly introduce myself and extend the invitation to collab. I'll admit our first encounter wasn't the greatest. It's always weird when a ni**a that doesn't know you tries to strike a conversation. He'll tell you. Although he knew of me as being Maxx's producer/engineer up until this point we hadn't had any extensive interaction. We exchanged info and that was that. He wasn't trying to hear anything I had to say that night though.

 Now it's 2014, I was floating around to different events in NYC. One in particular was a private album release party for Mobb Deep (RIP Prodigy). I want to say it was their last album, "The Infamous Mobb Deep." I'm coolin' in the spot for a little bit and guess who I bump in to? Of course, Twondon. The first thing he says to me is, "Damn B, you get around". At this point this ni**a finally realizes he can't escape the God. This time we got a chance to really chop it up. He mentioned to me he was looking for a new spot to record and a good engineer. I had to get my boy right. The first track we recorded together was, "Life's a Bitch" featuring AZ. I remember Twon asking me, "Yo B, can you somehow scratch in the Acapella of AZ from Nas' "Life's a Bitch"?” and explained how he wanted it to cut in and out of the hook. I remember thinking to myself, "This ni**a has no clue this my f**king BAG." To make a long story short my execution of what he requested was flawless. In past interviews Twon has mentioned that "Life's a Bitch" was when he found "His sound."

 Soon after Twon would make 1985 Sound Studio in Belleville, NJ his new home for recording. By this time I had already mixed a few singles for him including "4th and Inches" and "Run It" featuring Bizzy Crook and slew of others. There's this on-going thing where he'll say some sh*t like "Yo B, make me sound icy" and somehow I know what he means everytime. He also connected me with a few artists he knew including a young lyricist by the name of Dolla $ign Dunn who I continue to help with developing his sound as well. In the early stages of creating with Twon he had already had a lot of his beats picked out so he didn't really need me for production. I was just helping to cultivate that Upperclass sound through my mixing and mastering techniques. It wasn't until mid 2015 that discussions of his debut EP "Stay Golden" began to take shape. 

After a session one day Twon asked me about a beat I was creating on my ipad that I previewed on Instagram I think. No stories back then this was all timeline action. He said "That beat sound like me." 

I didn't think anything of it, I looped up the beat, added a few more elements to it and gave it up. No charge. That was the birth of the first single "Too Committed". He sat on the beat for a short time and came back to the studio and laid the 1st verse and the hook. Later on he told me that Smoke DZA would be blessing the record and executive producing the album "Stay Golden." 

"TWON!!? Antwon!! Wake your black ass up it's 1 in the afternoon..."   -Gloria's Intro (Mama Twondon) 

Twondon's “Stay Golden” album was released December 8, 2015, a day after my 30th Birthday. I was in Vegas my ni**a. The project was well received. The song "Million Dollar Babies" off that project racked up 600,000+ streams on Spotify alone. The whole roll-out for that project was dope. I go back and listen to that project sometimes and I love the way it sounds. It sounds just like the title, "Golden." So much work went into it and I enjoyed every minute of it. There are 10 mixes on "Too Committed" alone. Occasionally I will hear my wife bumping "All the Above." She's also partially responsible for placing "Too Committed" in the Indie film "King of Newark" (2016) 

After the success of that project we continued to create and build. The last few years I've watched Twondon evolve from rapper/lyricist to clothing designer to all-around entrepreneur. Yeah man, my boy was making clothes. I had to support him because the Upperclass Intl. collections were dope, simple as that. Every collection is limited pieces, so if you miss it for the week it's available it's over. His system is untouchable to say the least. He'll give you some dope music and then turn around and give you some fresh clothes. Young Nipsey traits for sure. The one piece I missed out on was this navy blue Upperclass hoodie he dropped. Still salty about that. He know. 

The inception of "God Complex" 

Summer of 2016 I locked in with my brother Josh. He would come to the crib on random days and cook up. Lay hooks, make beats etc. One of the hooks he laid was on "F**k What They Tryna Say," we both knew it was special. He laid it down and we never revisted it. Typical Josh sh*t. He's just a legendary soul. He's different. 

2017 I relocated to Atlanta. Twondon and I would maintain our working relationship and brother-hood from a far. We would send sessions back and forth, long ass facetime calls and sh*t. I would send beats sometimes and I stumbled across that joint "F**k What They Tryna Say" again, so I sent it to him. He didn't have anything in his catalog like it at the time. He wrote to it in about 45 minutes maybe less and sent me voice notes of the verses he had. Just undeniable flame. Since he didn't have a studio to record in at the time, I arranged to shoot back to Jersey to handle some business and record his verses. We linked up at a Sheraton I was staying at in Weehawken NJ overlooking New York City. I set up my laptop and microphone, we had some "God-Talk" and we got to work. Needless to say this record "Fuck What They Tryna Say" is about to be 4 years old by the time you guys hear it. Timeless vibes. Around the time we recorded that song I was still dealing with the indelible aftermath of my own personal police misconduct situation. It's documented that US Police had already shot and killed 72+ unarmed black males from 2015-2017. The numbers continue to rise. The message in that song is powerful, heavy and very clear, Fuck what they tryna say. We're not naive to what's happening in our communities, but as you can see we still thrive anyway. So we dont give a f**k what yall talking about. Plain and simple. 

"The skeletons in the closet is rising, the truth is louder than ever they kill us and televise it..." "FWTTS" - Twondon (feat Josh.GLPA) 

These last few years have made me realize how important the artist-engineer and artist-producer relationship really is. We've gotten so good at separating our business and personal lives that when this guy hits my line and simply says, "Mr. Ross," my response is normaly "Mr. Gibbs?”, I know something is coming. Would you believe we've spent the last 7 years developing his sound to what you hear today? I've mixed and mastered over 30 songs, 3 albums and 3 EPs for Twondon thus far. So many email threads, text messages, phone calls and overtime to bring to life that Upperclass sound you know him for. “God Complex” is just a cornerstone of what we've been able to build together on this journey of ours. Songs like “199$” and “Trips Up North,” are the creative by-product of our extensive conversations about life, man-hood, spirituality and how we are limitless in our thinking and resilient in what we pursue. We are Gods in our own right. Like Ye said, "I just told you who I thought I was, a God". Just respect it. Hope you enjoy this masterpiece. More music on the way. It's Upperclass ̡ 

Written by Brandon "Plan B '85" Ross 1985 Music 

Stream/Buy God Complex NOW

http://smarturl.it/GODCOMPLEXPACK

#twondon #spotify #tidal #applemusic #plan b '85 #god complex #new music #youtube #1985music

[prvntcessa]

listen up 10s a 4 is speaking! shdlaskhd what’s up sluts i’m cherry, i’m 21, use she/her pronouns and live in PST! this is mischa, princess of the russian mafia. she wears black lipstick, is massive scammer, laughs at videos of people falling down the stairs. here is a shorter sparknotes version of her bio and some fun and fresh headcannons

please enjoy this gif of mischa cosplaying indie xoxo

SPARKNOTES BIO! 

skeleton: the career criminal

name: mischa dostoyevsky ( formally xia han)

age: 25

gender: female

pronouns: she/her

fc: natasha liu bordizzo

born as xia to a dirt poor family of literal SCAM artists. we luv a scamily babey! her parents basically sold fraudulent anti-aging serum to dumb, white new york tourists everyday ( with the added bonus of her older brother dressed up like an OLD ASS MAN doing cartwheels n backflips like woooow this stuff really works! ) her job was basically sneaking through the crowd of people while they were distracted and pick-pocketing their money, valuables, shiny shit etc.  

that white savior guilt money was paying the bills until one of the karens they conned got hives from the allergic reaction to the red food dye they used in the fake serum and her brothers literal Old Man disguise flew off like 90s rapper fly away pants when it was windy as fuck one day so basically The Authorities Have Been Called Luv, the police showed up and xia didn’t know what to do bc she was a kid so she just BOLTED AND RAN ... does not know what happened to her family to this day

grew up on the street, continued the family business of being a fcking scammer and basically bought tampons by telling power walking, baby backpacking ladies that she was gonna have to feed little timmy cockroaches if they didn’t pay off, slept with crooked stock brokers, seduced old guys, cleaned out their apartments, stole all their money, jewels, watches, credit cards, priceless antiques -- THE WORLD WAS HER SUGAR DADDI BB

all of this changed on day when she making her nightly run by the alibi, a bar she called Dumb Rich Guy Bar and saw a weird old guy come out looooaded with what looked expensive shit,  but she really wanted his pocketwatch which from her experience was mad expensive. so she did her lil routine and THOUGHT she stole the watch but LOL SPIDERMAN MEME, he stole the watch back and the ring she was wearing AND HIS BODY GUARD HAD A GUN PLACED ON HER. MMM WHATCHA SAY

so turns out the weird old guy she tried to steal from was VLADIMIR DOSTOYEVSKY!!!! THE HEAD OF THE RUSSIAN FUCKING MAFIA. yiiiiikes! lmao she was like cool im gonna die but he was like hold up, u chose the pocket watch, the only real and valuable thing i was wearing ... i like u ur smart u have fire, u remind me of my dead wife  YOU WILL BE MY SUCCESSOR ur name is now mischa for my unborn son and i will teach u the ropes

so there is no more xia, only mischa, basically adopted by vladimir who she calls dad/nana and who calls her rabbit as a nickname (they play monopoly every night and VLAD CHEATS EVERY TIME BRO). she is the only girl in the bratva aka The Brotherhood which is what the russian mafia is called. shes kind of their wendy. shes worshipped outwardly but theres probably a lot of people that hate her ... which leads me to ........PAPA DYING! BIG RIP OG PAPA! he was poisoned at dinner and people say it was the italians but mischa is sure it was an inside job

bc of vlad dying *pour one out for vladdy daddy* mischa is head of the bratva aka russian mafia they call her PAPA bc thats how people refer to the mob boss SO SDHLLKDSH

ALSO PLOT TWIST! originally the plate that killed her dad was the plate she was given but he switched with her bc his piece of chicken was bigger and he wanted her to have it :((((( SO THE POISON PLATE WAS HER PLATE SO SOMEONE WAS TRYNA KILL HER DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

ok here are HCS they are from the bottom of my app xx

nicknames include who’s your papa, big papa and daddy purely because it’s iconic. but also she is probably that gifset where rihanna is talking abt how shes a bad bitch w top energy but is a massive bottom ahdlaks

mischa i think has to look a certain way of looking when dealing w the mob ( sort of girl boss, designer clothes, femme fatale ) but i think she is relatively unlady-like and prefers ratty jeans, plaid skirts, flannels, black combat boots, messy ponytails and the like when she’s relaxing. reminds her of life before.

practices makeup on dmitri and boris (her body guards) who complain a lot but also love her xoxo 

owns a very big fluffy, luxurious cat named perogi, he’s her son, a gift from dear old dad. 

has a pretty severe drinking problem ( vodka on the rocks is the poison ) after her father died and sleeps with a gun ( although i think she's better with a knife )

thus can drink you under the table also swears like an old sailor man ( is working on it, the whole mob sighs when she calls japanese businessmen idiot douche canoe fuckbags to their faces during monthly debt collections )

mischa can speak 5 languages in order to speak to people all over the world: madarin ( from her childhood ), english, russian ( mob ), spanish and french. 

pansexual queen and i want to say scorpio 

she’s grateful obviously to папа doing more off the grid, low quality criminal stuff without supervision because she is a truant, tramp, scam artist cat burglar klepto at heart <3

cinnamon roll meme: looks like she could kill you and would probably kill you

so i want to say she probably met the star of the show doing something where she snuck out at night with her bodyguards not knowing, wore her civilian clothes, blended in kept her head down because she missed freedom and accidentally met them out there like that under a pseudonym to hide her mafia life/continued to sneak out to see them like that before being exposed. very double life stuff angsty secret mafia princess stuff. we love hannah mon-mafia.

scared her parents will resurface/past will resurface ( supposedly папа bribed the police but . . . karma is a bitch )

has A LOT of suitors meant to strengthen The Empire and bridge conflicts between mobs but cares little, them: 💕, her: hocks a loogie and wipes on pants … she SUCSKSSKSS

has burped at important business dinners before and simultaneously has brought massive mafiosos to their knees. literally will have your dick cut off if you say something misogynistic, racist or something about her father :) she has a collection. ( its a big collection, but still quite little if you know what i mean )

rumored to have killed a man with the sharp end of her louboutin.

has a slight accent just from being surrounded by it constantly and word switches

smells like cinnamon and scraped knees

#heistintro #i hate her #pretends like she doesnt like being called princess also...luvs it #ur scary scorpio girlfriend

[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

Thoughts/Background Goblet of Fire

What kind of creepy graveyard is this? Skeletons crawling over one another? Snake hidey-holes? Is this Nagini speaking or can she hear Voldemort from that far away? This just shows how fast she is as she moves along the ground here. Literally, we have here the Angel of Death equipped with wings and a scythe, which normally the Grim Reaper carries.

One light on in the caretaker’s house which is right next to the family graveyard? We are assuming that this is the Riddle estate, correct? Wealthy families like that would have had a family graveyard near their home. Also, that house in the background, Riddle Manor? Is super big and though it is dark looks grandiose.

The house here, looks well lived in, but at the same time, almost like it has only recently been inhabited. This is a kitchen, but it looks like there is a shovel on the wall, and only one light?

Still, only one light on in the main Riddle house. Wormtail can’t even draw a curtain? Dang.

Those are some old fashioned keys. I understand that this is a Manor or whatever, but this takes place during the nineties? No one thought to update the locks on this place? Frank mentions, “Those kids”, like people breaking in has been a real problem. Why not update the security? Also, who has been paying for the upkeep of this place? Lucius? Some secret Dark Lord Corporation? Is that why they are old school? Because we all know that wizards like to keep everything super, super, super old school?

Seriously, who is keeping up this place? The topiary is amazing!!

He looks like he is walking up a sort of backdoor entrance or servant’s entrance.

He is the caretaker for the grounds, but can’t dust a little? That clock needs a good one.

The light wasn’t muted because no one was casting a lumos, they were simply using a lamp that had the fabric bits removed that dampen the light.

The way that Barty is smiling when Nagini perches herself on Voldemort’s chair is fucking terrifying.

Ron’s room really is all orange. Such a fanboy.

The Burrow is in such a great spot. The little pond in front, the trees, the openness. The house itself is incredible. Still, only one light on. Whose? You can see the group walking away. That has to be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room. Or Ron forgot to turn off the light, again.

They are all having to run to keep up with Mr. Weasley because he gets his cardio, bitch.

Mr. Weasley is rocking that straw cabana hat because he knows Muggles son!

Such a beautiful shot!

Did they travel through a worm hole here? I know the director or whoever had to make a creative choice in how this was going to be portrayed, but…. Idk.

Everyone is flying around, the arena is clearly segregated into Ireland’s colors or Green, Red, and Yellow, perhaps hinting at the final score of the match? Nice job, filmmakers.

What is this guy juggling? It looks like toy merecreatures almost.

Orange is the Weasley families favorite color. They’re just owning it at this point.

The pitch looks like it is in the inside of a volcano or a mountain.

Some people have seats right on the grass of the pitch? So, if the Weasle’s have bad seats at the very top what would the very lowest seats be classified as?

Who knew that a job qualification for Professional Qudditich players is the ability to adequately throw and spark fireworks?

Krum is a showoff.

Those are omnoculars? What Ron has to his face?

The way that they were all packed in together, it’s a wonder the whole place didn’t burn down with all the incendios they were throwing around.

They are all wizards, underage or not, and this is a life threatening situation, and yet, no one is firing back at the Death Eaters?

Okay, so everything did get torched to the ground. None of these tents had some fire retardant?

That amount of spells coming at the trio.

That style of hat that Crouch is wearing has got to be some ministry trend. Wait until they all hit the trucker hats in the 2000’s.

That Dark Mark is really cool.

I love her hat though. It looks like something that would have been worn to the royal wedding.

Seeing the train is always stunning.

I love the collection of sweets here. Colorful, to attract the youngins.

This is a really colorful movie. The third one was very muted while still being stunning. This and the next one experience with splashes of color that are just beautiful.

They are passing a big lake in the background there. Out of the window just looks wild and remote.

He addresses it clearly to Sirius Black. Is that a qualification for the owls to know where they letter needs to go or do they just have to have been there before? I need to know the specifics of owl travel.

You get to see the whole scope of how large not only Hogwarts is ,but the grounds, and I love that.

You see Neville in this first sequence as they are watching the other schools arrive as well as Fred, George, Ginny, Colin, Harry, and Hermione. Angelina Johnson is in the background behind the twins.

The sails on the Durmstrang ship looks like it is decorated with a two headed dragon. Is that the symbol for Durmstrang?

So while Dumbledore is chatting, Hagrid and Flitwick are behind him chit chatting.

There are two levels to the head table in this movie. The main folk are sitting at the higher table. Snape is leaning against the wall, not directly related to them at all. I bet he hated first days at the school.

Snape is one hundred percent mimicking Dumbledore’s speech for a hysterical Flitwick in the background.

The bald guy behind Dumbledore looks asleep, straight up.

Are butterflies the symbol for Beauxbatons? That would be very interesting. A creature that transforms completely into something else.

Hermione and Ginny are the only two who know what’s up in this shot.

Dumbledore was giving Madame Maxime eyes.

Filch is just standing dead in the middle of the Durmstrang wizards.

He is still standing there when Krum and Karkaroff walk in.

The kids so promptly follow Dumbledore’s instructions even though some of them are probably embarrassed about having to sing the school song.

But not Harry James Potter. He is living for this song.

Again we get so many shots of the school in this movie.

You can see the house point containers behind Dumbledore’s head.

You can see them again after the goblet is revealed.

Is that a tower of marshmallows?

OMgosh! The sky acted up when Crouch Jr came in because Hogwarts knew that he wasn’t who he said he was!!!!

The cup is so primitive looking compared to the container that is in.

It almost looks like each layer was created by a different faction of the wizarding world as a whole. That could definitely be a fanfic.

The perspective starts on the Durmstrang ship which again features a dragon.

Cages, nets in the background of the DADA classroom.

There is also a lot of glass and mirrors in the room which almost makes me think of a fun house where you don’t look like yourself in any of the mirrors which is super fitting for Crouch Jr. at this phase.

Why does Hermione look so suspicious already?

And what is the use of all the bugs, Crouch Jr. you sick mother f-er.

Who needs fifty overflowing worms in a jar?

Dean Thomas is straight up rocking a composition notebook from Walmart on that desk. He is representing Muggle culture at its finest.

Crabbe is wearing a ring. Is that his heir ring? That would be interesting as we see the younger generation start to really get pulled into the war in this film.

The portrait on the stain glass crying. We have all seen this, and appreciate the majesty.

We love a rain soaked Robert Pattinson.

Everyone is just watching the battle between the twins and Hermione.

There is no other light in the Great hall except for the Goblet? Dumbledore does love his aesthetic.

Snape is like, get me out of here.

And that display of power is why all of them dang kids sing that dorky song.

Who is Cedric kissing here as he goes up to the head table?

The cup is like the opposite of the Goblet of Fire. It is shiny and bright and new while the goblet is ancient looking.

You can see Harry’s scar quite prevalently in this shot.

The Hogwarts trophy room. I have never connected this before. It is huge.

Karkaroff has gold fillings.

What are the spinning trophies and where can I get one?

One light on in the top part of the castle.

Pensieve memories are blue, and the Goblet’s fire is blue. Coincidence? Fic writers, you tell me.

The suns on the curtains in the boy’s dorm is a nice touch.

Ron has a homemade quilt. I bet he gets those for birthday gifts instead of the infamous Christmas sweater. Molly Weasley is a boss.

What are all of these trophies for? I bet Dumbledore keeps all the ones that the various clubs and groups have won over the years.

Magical cleaner?

The scope of Hogwarts is amazing.

The owlery is literally covered in bird shit, like every inch. Dumbledore clearly instructs Filch not to clean it to deter frisky students.

Is that a cat on the stairs there?

I can’t ever decide if the Common Room looks too big or too small, here.

Harry talks about Voldemort so casually. But I guess if someone tried to kill me year after year we would form a sort of familiarity.

Those cabinets in the back are filled with board games. Bet me. Gryffindors are notoriously bloody, and game night, gets wild.

I bet Neville spends a lot of his time in the lake just researching and studying all of the different plant life.

Neville cares not at all for the drama behind him. He’s just like, “Give me the plants”.

I love that bright orange flower. Hagrid ain’t no fool. He knows how to get the ladies.

The mist in the background could almost be taken as fog, but then you think about the dragon’s and it literally could be smoke.

Hagrid representing all of the men who are shorter than their women.

There looks to be about six dragon handlers here.

They are carrying branches or their wands lit with fire at the end. Is that to confuse the dragons? Make them think that they already covered that area in their territory and are thus safe?

The handler on top gets bucked off the cage. He is done with this job.

I’m sorry, but those badges are ingenious. Do we know in the movie that Draco is the one that made them or is that fanon?

Those Hufflepuffs are nasty.

The sculpture that is seen in that scene in the courtyard looks like the same one that is present in Half Blood Prince. Do they also move around the castle at will?

Harry pushed Draco, and that guy in the back is like, “Yes, let’s have a fight.” Then he and the other guy straight up bounce when Moody pops on the scene. But Goyle is ride or die. Or maybe they ran and got McGonagall because she came really quickly???? Hmmm??

The walls are all green and lightly moss covered. Gorgeous.

Like, is there a legit list of all the things that teachers cannot do. 1. We do not use Transfiguration as a punishment. 2. Trying to main or kill students is expressively forbidden. 3. Flashy robes are allowed and encouraged. Share in the glorious pattern of life.

Crouch Jr. should have been shitting his pants at being at the end of McGonagall’s wand.

Again with all the mirrors. So, Crouch Jr. can make sure that his transformation isn’t slipping?

What are the faces in the mirror here?  

All the clues were there, and I didn’t see a single one. This movie and book is a masterpiece of plot. Plain and simple.

McGonagall was like, “Let’s not have the arena with the dragons so close to the castle, eh, Albus?”

There is a bed for each of the champions in this tent. Could no one transfigure a couch?

They have punch and muffins in the background. “Lime punch before you fight a dragon?” “Sure.”

I never noticed that blue in Madame Mazime’s hair. I love the school spirit that she is showing here. Dumbledore seriously thought of mimicking her. He would look bomb with a tie die beard. Convince me otherwise.

Filch is featured spectacularly in this movie.

The trunk at the bottom has a red cross on it, making this very likely an emergency tent that just so happens to double as the waiting area for the champions.

Colin made that sign for Harry.

I feel like that chain, oh, I don’t know, could have been magically reinforced or something.

How does his glasses stay on? I bend over, and mine are on the floor.

Even Draco here is like, “Come on, bro.”

Snape knew he should have stayed in bed.

So, does the waterfall seen here does that fall into Hogwart’s grounds as well because that would be awesome for field trips. My love for this ancient, magical castle in the middle of nowhere is unmatched.

Where was Seamus during that challenge? I did not see him.

The picture of the woman in the far left is very striking.

The Black Lake is a huge expanse. I always think of it as kind of small, but it is massive in this movie.

The pastries in the back are floating along the table. So cool.

Mrs. Norris just chilling, waiting to see these pitiful humans embarrass themselves.

Why can’t they have healed Harry? I understand the look, but dang, people continuity.

Neville has got them shiny dancing shoes. Augusta was very pleased when Neville asked her to buy them for him.

Hermione is a queen, and she knows it.

There is that semi circle of stone again from the third film. Hmmm….

Ginny’s friends are coming in with the support. Love a squad.

There was fruit on that table. I always wondered if they got snacks and what not during the daytime, between meals.

What was the need of carriages if the ball was held at the school?

Ron waited until last minute to even try on those robes or he definitely could have worked something out.

Owl sculptures are supporting the fires here.

Krum is dumbstruck by our girl.

Somehow she loses Krum to argue with Ron.

Is that couple making out at the table?

People are dancing in the hallway?

A gaggle of girls are crying on the stairs. Every middle school dance ever.

I’m telling you, whoever designed this cemetery had a very messed up imagination.

Neville stays out all night long. It is morning coming through that window. You dog, you.

Half of the allure of going to Hogwarts is to get to become a prefect and use that bath. Let’s be honest.

Crouch Jr. hates his life right now.

All of those books are like represent my best life.

Half of those students are like, “Yeah, no, you took all my money last time.” Because let’s be real, no one bet on Harry, and Fred and George scored big time.

Those top tiered placed have got to be enlarged with wizard’s space because they are quite small, and the whole school plus the two others are expected to attend each trial? Yeah, not big enough it seems.

Harry is a show off.

Seamus is wearing Hogwarts merch. Like where did he get that? A catalog? Gift shop in Hogsmeade?

You can see the merpeople’s ancient village here, or hints of it. Archways, etc.

Fleur looks legit worried here. Like Harry was right to not trust Dumbledore to ensure their safety when he can’t even tell Fleur who is out of the competition by this point that her sister is going to be okay.

Why are Fred, George, and Ginny right next to Malfoy and Co. for this shot, shouldn’t they be at odds? Or was that the best spot and neither were giving it up?  Or plain movie making reasons?

Harry is wearing a wand holster on his leg. Fanfiction writers catch all the details.

Seamus is like, “I am Harry’s hype man. I will keep him from getting hypothermia.”

Why did Hermione turn French here for that line?

Rescue….. that’s a strong word here, Dumbles.

Crouch Sr. is such an interesting character. He knows what it is like to lose a family, and he has his guard up because of that. Their story and their family is so interesting to me for some reason.

I think that’s the closest that Crouch Jr. gets to breaking character.

If you were born in the nineties you had at least one of those jackets that Hermione is wearing here, and if you had more, you had them in several colors.

Who bewitched Mad-eye’s eye? It is a very powerful magical object in its own right, right?

Please see my post about Sirius and Azkaban.

As soon as Snape is mentioned Crouch puts his head in his hands because he knows Dumbledore is going to have to have a say.

Dumbledore is looking so closely at the details that he misses the bigger picture in Harry’s dreams and Moody’s actions.

It’s so weird that Snape has a storage area for ingredients near Dumbledore’s office. I bet that Snape has several storage areas spread throughout the castle.

Snape could have just looked inside Harry’s mind, and be done with it, but no….because plot.

Neville is carrying yet another plant behind the trio here.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle are so carefree here that you almost forget that the happiness of youth that they have at Hogwarts is about to go extinct just like Harry and his friends. All of the kids in this story face a sharp change in perspective after this book.

I like that Harry has fake Moody, Krum has Karkaroff, Fleur has Madame Maxime, but Cedric has his dad because he gets to say goodbye to him.

The maze is just a massive headgame.

Do you think the reason that Fleur ultimately becomes close enough to Krum to ask him to her wedding is because Krum sought her out and made serious recompense for him being imperioused while in the maze?

They are just resorting to brute strength there at the end. The maze making them forget that they are capable wizards. A jelly legs jinx probably would have had much the same effect.

Angel statues I get, but this big dementor, grim looking thing holding the bones of Voldemort’s father. I just don’t get it.

Cedric gave Peter a chance to speak or stop, but Peter again took the cowards way out, and blasted Cedric before he really had a chance to fight back. What a punk bitch.

I’m glad that you are forced to choke your own self Peter because you deserve it.

Voldemort’s transformation here is both stunning and horrible.

The Death Eaters come out of the Dark Mark’s mouth.

Their masks here are different then the ones used earlier in the morning.

Voldemort is snatching their weaves here, and I love it. Stupid klan robe wearing wizard Nazis.

Voldemort puts his foot on Cedric’s face. Like, son, you need to pay for that privilege.

A lot of the Death Eaters here look like they have like staffs. I don’t understand.

A Death Eater in the background is litearlly clapping when Voldemort makes Harry bow, like get a hold of yourself, Hershel.

The statue, again, in the background presents such a striking image as the two duel.

The spell that Crouch Jr. urged Harry to learn is the one that saved Harry.

Harry just wanting to physically protect Cedric’s body with his own. Just heartbreaking.

I’ll never not sob when I hear Amos Diggory sob, “That’s my son! That’s my boy!”

Fred and George look to follow Crouch Jr. and Harry out. Do they tip off the professors?

Doesn’t Crouch know what it is like to stand in Voldemort’s presence? He was just babysitting the man, I mean, dang. Fangirling is one thing, but you have business to handle.

Don’t insult my Neville. I will throw down.

The mirrors are gone at this point. It looks like Crouch has almost packed up because he knows that he will no longer be needed.

Not his blood, ahhhhh!!!!!

Snape puts such flourish into his casting. That scene at the carriages earlier in this film. He looks like he is rearing back away from Karkaroff, but he is merely preparing to cast one fanciful, flourish of a hex on the man.

Just stick your face in the crazy Death Eater’s face, Harry. Great thinking. No wonder Snape doesn’t hold your intelligence in high regard.

We don’t get one look at Professor Sprout. This boy’s Head of House?

Look at all that magical cooperation, and yet, none of this was used in book seven, or any book after except for mentioning Fleur married Bill, and Harry learned a little tidbit about the Deathly Hallows symbol from Krum.

I love this film. It is stunning, and truly made me a diehard HP fan. I don’t think I will ever really tire of it.

#Harry Potter #Goblet of Fire #Harry Potter and the goblet of fire #Harry Potter thoughts #Harry Potter analysis

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

FINALLY birthed this thing. I’m officially a disaster with writing anything that involves conflict. Just like irl. :”) Anyway, yeah, there were 3 reasons why I did not finish this immediately about a month ago.

Első: See above.

Második: I had no idea what I wanted the last drop for Hawks to be before writing the rest in advance anyway, whoopsie~

Harmadik: I was.... reeeeeally not sure whether I want to publish this during pride month, seeing as I’m cis, and what kind of shit I put in this. (..... ok I’ve been thinking about this, and somebody just tell me if I’m plain projecting shit here. I might as well. Like, I always am, but it has usually got to do with characters being heavily #relatable in some way in strictly canon, which goes for everyone I write scenarios for. But now I’m thinking about whether there is something more to this, bc me headcanoning Shiggy as genderfluid and starting that shitty LawxOC body swap fic came around the same time two years ago, and now here’s Hawks, too. I’m onto you, me. I’m so onto me...)

Anyway... if you want the usual fluff, you might wanna sit this one out. (There’s some of it, but beware of everything else... it got p long (~6.5k), too, so you might wanna read it on a proper platform for txt: AO3 )

Big, BIG thanks @cutiesableye @acidmatze @waxwingedhawks and @mistystarshine for basically proofreading it and slapping a big green GO into my nervous face. Or being at it rn; regardless, I am thankful. Sssh, only dreams now.

I hope y’all be as uncomfortable reading the meat of this as I was writing it, whoops.

For how much he's surrounded by people normally -which he enjoys most of the time, really- Hawks prefers the silent rooftop right now. It shouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, he'd need a lot more alone time in the first place… but he's supposed to be working right now. Be in the thick of this spying shit, collecting intel from social and environmental clues like nobody's business.

Returning to the room is not something he wants right now, though. The topic and the awkward atmosphere it brought are weighing on him, and he'd rather get over this before moving on with the sleuthing business. He's been perching over the weed-ridden parking lot for like half an hour already, though. Judging by what he can pick up, the League is back to their time killing activities, and not very concerned about his absence. He noticed Spinner checking on him some time back from the doorway, and that's what it was. He's low-key grateful that they would let him breathe instead of poking around some more, or tailing him. If it's something he's allowed to do all the time, it'll be a luxury he's plain going to cherish for as long as it lasts.

Another plus is… that his reasons to join have become more than just believable. Even if this bit of information was not something he wanted to share. Like, at all. Ever. It was perhaps naive to think nobody will ever find out in the first place, that it would stay a secret of the select few who trained and took care of him. But the ones aware of it now being the members of Japan's most infamous terrorist organization… is not reassuring. 

Still… they are letting him be alone. It's… nice. Being seen as a person. It also hurts, though.

His feathers catch onto the vibrations of someone coming up the staircase again. The echoes tell of familiar size, weight and shapes… he knows who it will be. Being a wild card, he's probably coming on his own volition. The plastic smile is already in place, even though it has never worked on the guy- this was nice while it lasted.

The metal door opens with a lazy creak, then there's a soft thud, followed by slacking steps that stop right behind him. Dabi takes a swig from the beer can in his hand before speaking. "So… Peacock and Starling, huh."

"What about them, bacon face?" It's a funny feeling to hear someone say those… names, technically. It's equally funny to think that one of those is what he'd be known as if things go a little more his way. Even considered the title Phoenix for a moment, but that was too pretentious even for him, not to mention ill-fitting past being made of reds and yellows. As for the flashy Peacock… it's easy to see why the blatant joke got rejected off the bat. He'd look sick in iridescent blues and greens for sure, but that's all the reason he ever had to consider it. Those colors didn’t fit his basically pre-established brand… and nowadays he'd rather be invisible than catch even more eyes, anyway. And there's the almost, almost final Red Starling, which had the prototype of his current hero costume and everything…

He wanted to avoid predatory birds when given the task to choose a hero name, blatant secondary traits notwithstanding. They were beautiful creatures, yes… but hardly something reassuring and safe, killing for a living, full of pointy bits. Someone else probably wouldn't have batted an eye and had gone for the intimidation factor, but it was simply not what he had in mind.

A hawk… is a borderline case. It's among the smaller species and underwent some form of domestication, after all. They are not ideal for being kept as mere pets, though; they serve a purpose, instead.

They are used.

Used to hunt for sport or pest control, as he usually does. As he's supposed to right now.

So 'Hawks' was an afterthought, invoking the image of speed and danger. Which they insisted on, especially after… that. Smuggling the S at the end on the form was a last passive-aggressive jab after getting the okay, before letting go of who he used to, or wanted to be. It was fascinating to see the big shots make peace with it almost immediately, and regarding it as an improvement, even; 'makes it easier to associate with a swarm of feathers,' and 'more unique and identifiable,' they said. As if the original idea didn't accomplish both. It really was just… fascinating. The rest of these names, he banished to the stuffiest, darkest corners of his mind, as there were few good things, and even less pleasant memories attached to them. Until… today.

What has happened was simple and logical- the idea whether he'd choose another alias for underground activities came up. Mentioning them in the first place was an enormous mistake… and entertaining either as a viable option was even more so. Disturbing those relics reminded him of those buried memories and feelings, and all he can think of right now is the way Himiko's words rang in his ears barely half an hour ago.

Today, your smell reminds me of Big Sister.

Dabi lets out a sigh before getting to the meat of it. He spent the time Hawks had been gone on thinking himself, and there's a lot to unpack here. So he ought to take it step by step, lest he gets lost in the details. “Let me… get this story of yours straight."

… Great. This is exactly what he needs.

"It starts with… dirty, piss-poor little you getting caught up in a car accident and single handedly resolving it, right? Then, for doing something nice and selfless like that… you got sold off like a slab of fucking meat to the government.”

He blinks. "Hmm… not the most revolutionary take on it. I know you can do better." Claiming that the thought has never crossed his mind would be a lie. He just never let himself dwell on it. But now, this idiot is making him do exactly that. Or is trying to, at the very least. It certainly seems to be one of those convos. This… is turning out to be a major pain in the ass right away. Maybe he should reconsider provoking him this time around, it could backfire big time in the current mood of his.

“It is what happened, though, wasn’t it?” Dabi continues, slipping down to sit next to him, one leg dangling over the edge. “And once your apparently sub-par parents raked in the easy money, and washed their hands of you… you got stripped of everything.”

"Bold of you to assume that I had much to lose, bro. If you know about the accident, you also know where they picked me up from." Putting up a front aside, there was a rough edge to that 'everything' that makes Hawks want to run for the hills immediately. Nope, he is positively not in the mood for antagonistic banter at the moment. He wasn't really able to hide his upset and embarrassment over the situation, so Dabi must have found some twisted sense of enjoyment in pestering him about this specifically. Why can't this asshole just… shut up for once. He thought the villain incapable of it, but he does it so damn well with others around. Sticking with the lot might be a good idea, because solo Dabi is worse. He… he better filter out all the babbling before he starts thinking about bad shit or worse. It’s been a while since he had to take such measures, but he'll have to lull himself into a coma, and just… shut up. Inside out. And hope that Dabi gets bored of him.

“Doesn't change the point, does it, now. They started with any meaningful human contact you may have had… until they erased every last ounce of self," Comes the continuation while Hawks tries to block it out; "They denied you time, likes, attention, possibly even your basic fucking needs while moulding you into a perfect little cleanup machine that fears no death. Then tossed your dried-up skeleton into a roomy cage, filled with expensive junk to fill the void, as a semblance of compensation. Well thanks for fucking nothing, you sick fucks."

Hawks' eyes have locked onto a sunbathing lizard in the distance, but the idle animal is not quite enough of a distraction and his fingers twitch with the tightening grip over the wall's edge. Why does it sound as if Dabi was taking his side?

Shut up… don't pay attention.

He winces when Dabi pulls on the collar of his tracksuit to take a disgusted look at the label. "All the shit you wear was gifted from companies you played dress-up doll for, wasn't it… one fantastic billboard, you are. You own literally nothing else, do you? I'm sure that's the case, because, funny story… a newbie classmate of mine, some dump kid whose parents became new money, had always obscene amounts of cash on him…  but after an initial shopping spree, he never could bring himself to buy a fucking thing. So we asked him about it. Turns out he simply felt like utter shit for spending any of it unless he had a good reason. I laughed then, but apparently, getting a bag of chips is a gargantuan issue for most people who grew up in poverty." 

He leans closer, low words dripping like liquid venom in Hawks' ear. "You, too, feel like garbage every time you spend an ounce of money on something you can do without, don't you? Reminding yourself that there are dozens of that thing at home, lying untouched in your wardrobe that's the size of some families' entire house. Pray-tell Hawks, how many times did you sit over a full basket of online goods… the stuff of your dreams, probably some basic ass shit... only to back out at the last second, hmm?"

Shut up.

Dabi's eyes slide to the tense hands possibly attempting to tear the crumbling edge off the worn wall. A second later, he distances himself again, stirring the can with lazy, circular motions. "I don't even want to imagine what it feels like. Never spent a fucking dime on anything but charities, I fancy. And the odd bottle of booze, fuck or junk food… Are those chicken bits the only thing you're allowed to get? Tch.” 

“What a fucking luxury, being allowed to treat yourself to a bucket every other week, when your disgusting training diet has been set in stone three months in advance." It sounds like a personal addendum, but not a single word in that sentence escapes the overbearing sarcasm and condescension.

A still ticking cogwheel in the hero's head wonders why Dabi knows of the standard diet thing he has to undergo at least twice a year being three months long, and how he could possibly know that he's come to hate half of the dishes over the years. The overwhelming majority of said cogs have long come to a halt, however, screeching SHUT UP. He's not sure who or what that message is directed to anymore. Probably both of them.

Dabi’s waltzing wrist comes to a halt, soon followed by the whirling liquid in the can; it's a minute break, the kind that's just enough to make conversations awkward. In fact, the silence is too big for Hawks to handle- there’s no white noise to drown out and it makes not thinking, not paying attention unbearably hard. The lizard disappears under the cracked asphalt, leaving him with nothing.

“With how long it took you to respond to Shigaraki, they also stripped you of your name. And what I got from the exchange with Toga… is that the same goes for your body, too.”

A shiver runs down Hawks’ back and wings over the addition, kicking the machine brain back in full order despite his best efforts. Dabi takes a big swig of beer and lets out a sigh, resulting in another ill-placed pause. It gives Hawks time to think, goddammit, and he thinks too fast, too hard, about everything.

“While you were moping up here, I've come to realize why you always seem to be so hilariously desperate to one-up me in any given way… it’s because you actually are grasping for straws. You have no control whatsoever, over anything. None." There’s a somber undertone to his voice. The can, along with the remaining sloshes of beer, are flung down to the concrete wasteland and land with a sad, high pitched clank. "My sister used to be like this… people like you don’t dare to ask why things happen. You will believe you’d done something wrong to deserve it all… maybe see yourselves as a necessary sacrifice. Did they ask you to be a martyr, or did you decide so yourself, bird brain? Not that it matters… because that’s exactly what your bosses want and they'd keep on twisting your arms until they get there… but I bet they did. They didn't ask whether you actually wanted it, though… or ask anyone else, about anything, for that matter." 

He reaches over Hawks' vaguely trembling shoulders for the jaw, forcing his face out of hiding. The grip turns gentler as the man's head turns in his general direction, though he's refusing to make eye contact. Dabi keeps him there like that for a while, dissecting him with icy, blue scalpels.

"Gentle like a dove… you'd have flipped the fuck out and been talking shit ever since I opened my mouth any other day. Is this the defense mechanism you developed for these situations?" There's some twitches to the corner of the mouth, but the other remains unresponsive. Heaving another, mildly annoyed sigh, he pries the hero off the crumbling wall with a disgruntled huff and turns to face him. Once there’s some space to work with, he tilts the head in his grasp to the left, to the right… no resistance. "To see you like this is creepy as all hell, birdie… do you even register what I'm saying anymore? Or is ignoring me the goal? Hmm?" 

He scoffs at the glazed eyes, then shakes his head. "I'd imagine you met some pigs high up on the food chain soon after the stunt… those monsters can do anything they want. Then buy silence from pocket change." He starts caressing the other's face as the trembling turns more and more into shaking. "Isolated, innocent eye candy kid at their mercy…… I can only imagine what they’d do to a sweet little plaything like you."

A visceral reaction makes Hawks' stomach convulse, threatening to empty itself, and the muscles in the rest of his body follow suit. Unwanted scraps of memories, all the blurred scenes, images and feelings he didn't quite manage to erase flare up in his mind. And even though his entire being is revolting against being reminded of hugs that felt off by a mere margin, of touches that were always, always distinctively soft and slimy, and things sometimes even worse, and much worse…  the sole thing that betrays his near perfect neutral expression is a pair of clenched jaws. What concerns him even more than any of this, however, is the fact that his tear ducts have been burning up for some unknown time, and...

… too late. There’s already a droplet of water sitting on the thumb Dabi lifted up a second ago.

The tear gets reduced to nothing between the pensive swipe of two fingers as he lets go of him. “Thought so…”

A sliver… a handful of cells, some unidentifiable part of Hawks is thankful that Dabi doesn’t elaborate on what he’s thinking right now, glaring somewhere distant both past the hero and his own damp hand.

The villain's eyes come back into focus soon enough. There's still… one more thing. "Then you started to grow… and they decided to focus on function over form, since your baby face would be just as marketable with a scruff. Becoming popular and following a strict schedule makes it near impossible for creeps to do as they please, with all the watchful eyes dissecting your every move… so you live on a leash instead. An accessory to show off to guests… and still shiny, new weapon to flashily beat up people with." He cocks his head. "And you loathe mindless violence."

On one hand comes the relief that the previous topic has been dropped as unceremoniously as possible, and he gets a moment to breathe and stop shaking like a leaf. On the other…

They are used. Used to hunt pests…

Having less than no time for himself, the daily drill of regular heroing and the overwhelming amount of paperwork the job comes with are things he can deal or cope with… It’s fighting, hurting and confronting other people he loathes the most, even if he'll ram heads with the bigger fish to ensure a more stable framework for everyone to live in. For… others to live in.

Forcing himself into a group of known murderers and the deception this comes with is just the icing on the rotten cake. God, all these fucking lies, he cannot look into the mirror anymore for being overcome with sheer disgust. And now he's stuck with it until the source of all Noumu can be located, too. Why can’t things be like a shitty cops and robbers chase and, just… easy? Simple? Is it really that much to ask for?

But what makes it unnerving is to know that Dabi’s right, always fucking right. About people, what a living nightmare being a hero is once one looks past the glitter covers, and pretty much everything else. But most importantly, he's right about him. He hates being predictable at all, not to mention being read with confidence, and right now he feels as naked as an open book with covers ripped clean off.

He can feel more tears break free, and his fingers scrape over the rough concrete, letting the bumps and glass shards cut a fingertip or two open. It's frustrating. Every single time they happen to make contact… Dabi either makes a good point or manages to get the upper hand in the most inane, little ways, and it’s so… frustrating.

He can’t keep bottling it all up forever, but what is he supposed to do about these feelings?

“What I'm not sure about… is what exactly they are thinking this time.” There’s a thoughtful pause before the continuation; every last tendon in the blonde’s body tenses up. “Are they actually this desperate to get us for good… or is it you they want to get rid of that bad?” 

For a moment that seems like an eternity, Hawks feels… absolutely nothing. Nothing but the piercing glare of the very sky above them, staring straight through the villain's eyes. “Psycho girl is right… you really have no idea how to say no.”

Why now… Hawks can't tell. But hearing the same shit he's thinking about for the millionth time makes something crack. Click. Snap. And next thing he knows, he’s already tackled Dabi to the ground and is clenching his fists into his coat; the man himself doesn’t look too surprised over the turn of events, which drives him even madder.

“Every,” his voice shakes with bubbling anger and is lower and gravelier than his normal, but it will do. Hawks pulls on the leather hard enough to lift the other before slamming him back onto the grey concrete--- “Every” --- over--- “single” --- and over--- “aspect” --- and over, “of you,” and over, “drives me up… the fucking wall,” and over… “any time you open your godforsaken MOUTH,” this time, he goes a little over the top, as the big yank is followed by a pointed knock upon Dabi’s head meeting the ground and his lungs flatten under the pressure of fists, but Hawks is not in the mindset to give a flying fuck about the minor inconveniences of the villain at the moment. Fucker has dug this grave himself, so he better lie in it. "how the everloving fuck... How…! How can you possibly know me more than I do?! TELL ME!!” He asks with an ever growing voice that borders screaming by now, all while shaking the man relentlessly.

He's about to pull and slam him down again when Dabi's hands grab onto his arms just below the wrist. Maybe it's that he did not expect it, but the grip definitely stings a little. As fragile as Dabi is, he thought those scrawny arms less powerful, but apparently what does he know? Still angry, he tears one hand free while shooting a glare at the villain.

There's a trail of blood flowing down his cheek around where Hawks' fist rubbed against at the time of the yank. Dabi blinks once, leaving his left eye with an odd pink texture as his lid smears the leaking red fluid all over it. Not too surprisingly, his face remains as unreadable as a mannequin's, and eyes as cold as that of a taxidermy specimen. Hawks hates looking at him when they are like this, which is most of the time. "Careful, little bird… you're tearing at the seams. Don't want to end up like this, do you?”

That calm voice works like just another taunt, making the hero want to beat him to a pulp, or at the very least, continue where he's just left off with flattening him into the concrete. At the same time… hesitation wedges his joints to a halt. No… No, he doesn’t want to end up ‘like this,’ whatever it may have been to drive Dabi into burning himself alive on a daily basis.

And he notices. Of course he does. Hawks could swear to see his lips curve, but it may just be the angle.

“Fucked-up kids know how to read others pretty well, don’t you think?”

Hawks’ still short breath hitches and he freezes upon feeling a hand, the very same he just shook off, slide over his hips, ice cold on his heated skin even through the fabric of a t-shirt. There's no real intent behind it; in fact, it feels like a doctor's indifferent, calculated touch. Somehow, that makes it even worse. "… didn't even have the decency to start stuffing you with testosterone from the get-go, huh?" 

Another statement that sounds more like a personal note than anything else, and it makes Hawks’ skin crawl.

“Well I can’t read you for shit! Congratulations!!!” He barks, slapping the intrusive limb away. “For starters, what was this supposed to be about, hell, why the fuck did you even come up here?! Just to gloat about it into my face? Or do you want to make fun of me for not being able to decide whether I’d rather be a cheeky bitch or the insufferable prick I am today?!” 

There’s tears streaming down his face again, but he couldn’t care less. It hurts like all hell… especially remembering full well how fucking much waking up from what was supposed to be nothing more than an open break surgery hurt- there was near nothing to remove, for fuck's sake. But claiming not to enjoy at least some aspects of what being a man brought would be just more lies on the throne built on them.

Mentioning his interest in IT and mechanics to strangers is not criticised or made fun of, not anymore. Neither is his tendency to run ahead of others in pretty much every situation. Instead of second guessing, people default to respecting and listening to what he says on any given topic in general, and he stopped doubting himself, too. The circumstances were a special kind of fucked-up for sure… but he also ended up having fewer weak spots than almost everyone else, which did come handy a couple of times. The hormones he received made him taller than he ever could have grown realistically, too. And rejecting fans is easier as most women- and most of them are women,- know basic fucking etiquette.

But he also wants cheesy tees with cats and birds and flowers that he never gets to sponsor. Cuter shoes that are still comfy. Some eyeshadow every now and then. Wear the prettiest blues and greens, and maybe… maybe a nice dress.

"… You are pissed for the same reason I am.”

By the time Hawks has processed the sentence, he is the one being pressed into the roof, with one wing stuck awkwardly underneath him. For a dreadful moment he breaks into cold sweat, because this also means that Dabi is between his legs, and--- fuck, this is the last fucking position he wants to find himself in, especially right fucking now. He doesn’t get to break out in panic, however, because the villain is busy strangling him against the lukewarm ground. It’s his turn to grab onto the other’s arms as he wheezes for some air. He needs to calm the fuck down somehow, otherwise he won’t be able to use his feathers---

“Looking at you… is like staring at a distorted mirror image at fucking funland.” Hawks cracks his eyes open, seeing Dabi stare right back at him. It's as if someone put goddamn transparency over the villain to make the blinding blue behind him visible. He’d blame cold eyes in general, but he doesn’t find Twice’s even lighter ones nearly this creepy when Dabi’s like this. His burn with intensity rivaling All Might and Endeavor, which have always made him uneasy.

“What a nice pair of custom-made patchwork monstrosities we are…” His voice delves into a hiss as the grip tightens over the hero’s neck. “… makes me sick to my stomach."

Hawks coughs under the weight on his throat. He manages to get some air in and think clearly enough to turn back to logical thinking; if Dabi wanted to go for the kill, he’d be toast by now. Motherfucker is just toying with him for the hell of it, isn’t he? He flexes his wings against the rough concrete and flips the two of them back over to where they started.

“Would you stop playing games, you *cough* sick fuck?!” he wheezes, all out of breath.

"Maybe you’re the one who should stop dicking around, bird brain!"

His next protest gets cut short when Dabi headbutts him in the temples. It feels half-hearted, but gets him to shut up for a moment nonetheless, which is all that the other needs.

"The fuck did you scrape us up from the floor for, HUH?! You had ONE JOB, and you could have been done with it just like that… but instead...!! INSTEAD you played nurse and started to GET ALL COMFORTABLE AND SHIT!” The villain’s voice is basically rolling like thunder over the forsaken plot.

Hawks’ angry and pained grimace twitches under his hand- he’s seen Dabi smug, and aloof, and crazed, but not… angry. Not to mention angry with him, specifically. And, once again, it’s one of those little, irritating, miniscule things that are… true. He didn’t get an order to stick around and follow the lead to the Noumu until like a week later, so it was all unnecessary and ended up being even more work and trouble than it was worth.

He didn’t have to help when he found all of them dying, bleeding and broken.

He also didn’t have to start talking to Compress and Twice and Giran, then all the rest as they warmed up to him and came to.

He wasn’t supposed to lie about their initial status, he didn’t have to keep covering for them after they were all walking and doing all right, after the decent person in him had already been satisfied.

And he definitely never meant to get… attached.

A pull on his tracksuit wakes him from the shock, just as Dabi continues screaming at him head-on. “And YET, there still isn't anything YOU want from us?! REALLY?!! Do you want to be a puppet for the rest of your life, idiot?!"

Well… Hawks had been called names before. He never thought that being called a ‘puppet’ would offend him this much, but that... that certainly just did it.

“NO, I DON’T!” He screams back at him, voice swaying all over the place.

"CAN'T HEAR YOU, BITCH!!"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT 'o!!” Whatever air's still in Hawks' lungs gets stuck inside as a wave of what’s probably fear washes over him upon hearing his own, distorted voice crack and echo in the empty parking lot. Realizing just how much he's straining his voice, a sudden knot manifests in his stomach that folds his rage into a small, jittery, awkward package.

“Ah… I,” It takes so much effort to squeeze out a single thing, what--- why is he embarrassed? “I don’t---”

The next word gets stuck somewhere between his thoughts and throat when the same cold hand from before leaves a little pat on his head.

"See? Wasn't that fucking hard, was it now." It combs Hawks' hair back, staples getting stuck here and there on the fragile strands. There’s nothing methodical about it this time; the entire gesture is just… gentle. "Good job, chicken."

Just like that… all that rage, despair and helplessness, along with the last confusing bundle of emotions, evaporates out of the blue, leaving Hawks empty and tired, somewhat nervous, and maybe a little… relieved. It takes him a bit to be able to think of anything at all, god knows how much time passes while he blinks blankly in front of him. It takes a rugged sigh from Dabi underneath him to phase back into reality; the scarred hand has long disappeared, and is tucked behind the villain’s head along with the other as he’s gazing at the passing clouds. The first coherent thought that crosses Hawks’ head is a fully formed fact- what kind, and with what purpose, he doesn't know or begin to understand… but this was… a test, or rather, a lecture.

A very… very crudely executed lecture.

Hawks sniffs with a stuffy nose. Fucking… fucking fucker. “… you are an asshole through and though, aren’t you?” And now he’s hoarse, too. Wonderful.

There’s a shrug… well, as much of a shrug it can be from someone in Dabi’s position. “I don’t believe it’s ever been up for debate.”

He sounds so smug, it's just so… ugh. The hero squishes his face with a palm in frustration before crawling off him at last. The annoyed grunt in response is all he needs right now. "Are you done being a nuisance, or do you wanna egg me on some more?"

There's a rare chuckle. "Already making bird puns…? Nah, little bird. Getting hell-and-back pissed is exhausting as fuck. You won't be any more fun today." 

With that, Dabi scrambles onto his elbows, then sits back up. He gives a quick massage to his previously flattened nose before rubbing the back of his head; there’s a number of fully formed lumps already. Feathers isn’t very gentle when riled up… at least the spot’s not bleeding. He'll need to put some painkillers to work, though. "Still… the manic look suits you well. I'm getting giddy just thinking about your bosses' reactions upon seeing you like that." In a move that is more or less successful, he licks a finger to rub the trail of rust off his cheek.

Hawks wrinkles his nose upon seeing a rather genuine looking smile on the other’s face. “Please. Noone in their right mind is in my face like you are all the damn time… at least not with the intent of driving me batshit only to make me murder them. You’re a freak case and should not be accounted for.” He sighs, resting his head on an arm- there really is no willpower left in him to do anything for the rest of the day. There better be no trouble on his late evening patrol, or so help him. Or help it, because there's no guarantee he won't snap back to this awkward beat-to-a-pulp mode if confronted with a no-name villain.

After some fidgeting, Dabi produces something from a pocket… something that looks very suspiciously like a worn blunt. “It’s because they don’t have to, dumbass… you are edging towards a nervous breakdown at any given time. Anyway, look… you are no doubt seen as an invaluable asset… but are worth so much more still. Give yourself some credit." Hawks peers back at him just as the conspicuous thing is lit over a wrist which gets shaken after, much like one would put out a match. There’s a tentative draw, followed by another. 

“What I want to say is… they are terrified of you, birdie. If not for the danger of exposing their disgusting practices, it's because they fear that their blue ribbon pet won't return from a hunt… for one reason or another. And, just for the record,” He breathes, offering the roll to him; “I'll gladly hold you back for a good scare."

Following a vacant stare and a blink, he takes it. It’s not as if this quite tolerable, for-the-hell-of-it mood of Dabi’s was new, but… he was seriously considering to strangle the guy a minute ago. When exactly did they return to casual banter? Hell if he remembers, or has noticed at all. God… this whole thing has him rattled real good. Hopefully a nap will get him back into the usual pace of things.

“I sure hope not everyone blows their sugarbird pocket money on beer and weed like you do,” The blonde muses once he can feel a different kind of fatigue set in, reaching the blunt back to Dabi. Hypocritical? Maybe. Won't stop him from nagging others for the same shit, though. Comes with the job.

“Well, Compress replaced the crumpled hat… and Tomura decided to save up for a new handheld,” Dabi muses, placing the smoke into the corner of his mouth. "It'll go via Giran, of course. After seeing the taxes on that shit, I can't even blame him."

Can’t help but smile at that. “You are all fucking hopeless.”

A hum is all he gets as a reply.

After a while of comfortable silence, the remains of the roll get snuffed out on the ground. Blinking past Dabi, Hawks can see the sun is soon to set. Fucked like two hours just sitting out here, didn’t he. The Commission better not expect much from today’s endeavor… cannot exactly tell them that he was getting high on the rooftop with the flame villain for a good portion of it, the only villainous topic being creepy fat cats and their own shortcomings. Or that his possibly biggest secret slipped, although they wouldn't give a rat's ass about that. Yyyeah… it’s best to bullshit it.

“Humor me for another minute of real talk, will you, chicken?”

Dabi’s voice drags him back to reality again, only to realize that the light has already turned into a warm yellow. If his bones… or rather joins popped now, he’d feel like the embodiment of a nice little bonfire under the sun. Huh. Guess the stuff was of the better quality to make him think of weird similes and turn his sense of time whack. What was he--- oh, right. He should answer.

“… cannot promise I'll be able to pay attention or remember any of it, but do your best, crouton.” There’s a mild prickly sensation in his wings and his brain feels like marshmallows. If only he could always be so calm.

“Don’t bullshit me, you barely had a whiff." The dirty remains of weed are flung over the roof in annoyance.

He can feel a goofy smile creep onto his face- it's nice to be the source of frustration for once. Maybe all he needs to do is be honest more often. "Second hand smoking goes a long way, bruh."

The initial answer is an exasperated sigh. "Shut it… Anyway, you should cut the sweet chirping and tweeting, birdie. No matter what you do, people take advantage of your position. You know this better than anyone else. So squawk and screech to your heart's content, if that's what you need… and if barking won’t help, get down to biting.” Having said that, he stops surveying the cracked parking lot under the golden sky, and turns back to Hawks.

He forgets to breathe for a second. Good lord… those eyes glow as if they were illuminated by blue fire from inside, and the contrast with the sunset is just… well, literally breathtaking, he supposes. This is among the few times when they don’t creep him out- quite the contrary, in fact. They still feel like X-rays, though. “I guess it really doesn’t matter… by the way, real talk question: can you fucking read minds?”

Not that he expected anything else, but a smug grin appears on the villain’s face. “Maybe~”

“Careful, man. Your pants are sizzling.”

Lo and behold, another rare chuckle. Despite being under the influence of drugs, (or maybe because of that?) Hawks is on a fucking roll.

He can't keep his eyes off those blue ones even once Dabi decides to stare back at him. “Jokes aside… suppose there really is an idiot like me out there, and they get up close and personal… put those clipped talons to work and gouge their fucking eyes out. You have all the means to tear them limb from limb… go all out, who gives a fuck. These are the same kind of people who shit on wild animals from beyond a cage, but watch them run with tail between legs upon realizing that the gates are wide open. And even if you weren't ready to dirty your hands or feathers like that…" 

He lifts a pointing finger and rests the tip on the hero’s nose. "One word of yours… and we'll make sure it's the last day they touched anyone. Understand?"

Really, all he can manage to that is a weak, sheepish smile. “… thanks,” he breathes, not knowing what else to say. He should be a thousand times more alarmed over basically being told that someone's ready to kill for him, and not… well, flattered? Touched? Especially since he knows Dabi means it, and so would the rest of them.

“Great,” the other grunts while getting on his feet, and leaning just a little bit on Hawks’ head while doing so. What a turd. Latter’s about to get his stiff legs working as well, but once the vague aching starts subduing, he can see Dabi stop in the doorway and put a hand on his hip. “… those filthy gremlins have been spying on us.”

Indeed… someone brought the hero’s scantily loaded bag to the top of the staircase and left it there.

“In that case,” turns Dabi around, flinging said bag over to Hawks in the same breath, “go straight the fuck home and get yourself presentable, you overgrown turkey. Might wanna decide on the new alias by the next time I call, too. You already know the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, dragging the strap over his head.

Between the echo of boots, there’s a distorted farewell: “See ya, little star.”

Hawks stops in his tracks. He looks over to the empty entrance, and the metal door wide open. The sound of footsteps has faded into barely more than creepy sounds in an abandoned building- if not for his feathers, he wouldn’t even know that six other people are under the roof he’s standing on. Spirits and shadows haunting an old convenience store like many others.

He's nothing more than another ghost out here, and yet… he's never felt so real.

---

No matter what he chooses, Dabi will just stick to 'fancy chicken.' Also, I’m so fucking proud of that Red Starling. Not only is it obscure astronomy bullshit (much like the title of this thing), but it would be a nifty alternative to Hawks; just hit up a video on a flock (or, as I just learned, murmuration) of starlings. Shit’s cray.

#dabi #hawks #bnha #boku no hero academia #DabiHawks #not necessarily shippy but you can certainly read it that way #Kate writes

[bfire92]

Lou Ellen Blackstone - The Torch Bearer

I wrote this on my cellphone while traveling at night, so I appologize for any spelling mistakes and things that might not fit the book. There are three small chapters, inspired by three songs.

Read on FFN

Champion

I'm calling you from the future

To let you know we've made a mistake

There's a fog from the past that's giving me, giving me such a headache

-Fall Out Boy

"Will! Here!"

The voice was far away, like she was under water. It frightened her. Voices shouldn't be dimmed like that. They shouldn't come from people buried under hills of stone and bricks or people who were being swallowed by waves of water from a river.

"Over here! Help!"

  Help. Help them. She had screamed it, wailing in terror and tears. Blood on her hands. Blood on her armor. Blood in her face, in her mouth. She could still taste it and smell it. Warm and metallic.

  Wait, that wasn't a memory, was it?

"What happened? Who is she?"

"Fuck, Will, I just. I was just blowing up some stuff, I was thinking I'd block the street, right, and fuck. Will, fuck, I didn't know she was there. She was hiding."

  Was that blood running down her face? Her head was swimming and she lost all sense of direction. Then, she felt a pressure along her whole body. The ground? A bench?

"Cecil, she is not one of ours."

"Sure she is! She's human, ain't she. Didn't you take some hypocrite oath? Help everyone, or some shit like that."

  There had been skeletons. She had litterally seen the dead walk amongst them. She'd even seen one of them attack a kid, some son of Nike who would just never give up or back down. Too young, they had told him. His sisters had commanded him to go home. Al had even talked to Luke. But he just seemed to find his way back every time. She'd seen him fall to the ground after being smashed in the head. She'd seen him lie still and small on the asphalt. Then some monster had thrown itself towards the body. And she had screamed, because that didn't make sense. That didn't make sense at all. Weren't they on the same side?

"You're right. Of course you're right."

"Damn right I am!"

"Help me cut off her armor. Her head, she'll need stitches."

  Her brother, she'd hear him call for her under the piles of a fallen buildning. He'd screamed for several minutes while they dug. And then he'd gone quiet. Silent. Dead silent. One minute he was screaming her name. The next she'd know she would never hear his voice again.

  From the other side, she could hear a song. A soft voice and warm hands. The voice got louder and clearer, like she was rising in the water. She wanted to sink back down. She wanted to stay there. If she reached the surface, she would have to go back out on the streets, wouldn't she?

  The voice grew clearer. She was just below the surface now. She could feel pain. Pain in her head, in her side.

  Good, she thought. If she was to live, at least she wanted it to be painful.

  It had been a mistake. She knew that now, as she was rising from the water and the fog. But her mother had spoken to Al, and then he had promised them they would win.

  With a gasp, she broke the surface of whatever water she had been drowning in. A rush of air filled her lungs, making her back hurt like she had breathed in cold winter air. But the air here wasn't cold and crisp. It was warm and clammy, carrying the smell of blood and gods knew what else.

"Keep her still. I need to clean and stitch up that headwound." She recognized the voice, calm and tired. The voice of the song that had lured her to the surface.

"What, without anestetics or anything? Fuck, Will, that's cold, man.

  This one was different. It was sharp and demanding. She'd listened to it for a long time. It had carried her when she was drowning. Dragged her through the currents. Hadn't she planned to kill it? She couldn't remember why.

"We are running low on supplies. There are worse injuries." A hand touched her cheek. "Hey, can you hear me? Will you try to look at me?"

  She opened her eyes, but the world went spinning. All she could see was blue and blond and orange. She groaned.

"I need to clean your wound. You have some debrils in it. It might hurt, but you can take it, can't you? You're a proper champion, right?"

  She managed a small nod, but even that made her stomach twist.

"Good. Here we go. Cecil, make sure she lies still."

"Doctor's orders, girl." There was a nervous laughter. Then someone leaned over her, elbows holding her arms pinned against her sides, a chest keeping her from moving her upper body, and hands against either side of her head. It felt suffocating, and parts of her wanted to fight him off, but some other part knew what was going on and teld her to hold still.

  She could feel the tweezers poke around in the flesh along the side of her head, just above her ear. She could straight up hear them scratch against her head and even feel things being pulled out. Tears ran down her face and she couldn't help her legs from twitching and kicking. Everything burned every time alcohol flowed over the wound, and she grit her teeth. Still, she knew, this wasn't really painful. This was nothing against being crushed under gravel or drowned in the river or hit in the head and ripped apart.

  When the voice was done with the needle, the pressure over her chest let her go, and hands started running over her body.

"She has a lot of fractures. A broken finger, broken ribs. No internal bleeding."

"I think she god hit in the head by something from the explosion. But there was so much blood, I thought... You know, she wasn't even moving."

"Headinjuries bleed a lot. I am more worried about the concussion. She has to stay still. We will keep an eye on her. Perhaps..."

"Tie her up?"

  Silence.

"Yeah. You good with knots?"

"Knots, locks, same thing, really. I will make sure she stays in place."

"Good. Hey?" A warm hand on cheek again. "Are you with us? What's your name?"

  Her head was still swimming, but she dared open her eyes. Two boys were sitting on the floor by her side. Both were grimy and tired. Their clothes had spots of dried and fresh blood. Her blood? One wore an armor in scratched up bronze.

  They had asked her a question. She gave it some thought. Not because she worried about the consequenses of telling them anything, but because the information had to be collected from the depths of the waters she had just surfaced from.

"Lou," she whispered. Her voice was hoarce and unfamiliar, a broken voice of someone much older than herself. "Lou Ellen Blackstone."

Kids In The Dark

Here we are at the top of the hill

A hill that's quietly crumbling

Been a while since you dressed for the kill

The kill that sent me tumbling

Looking up, I see a falling star

And watch its fire burn into the floor

And I am left standing on the edge

Wondering why we fall so hard, why we fall so hard

-All Time Low

Lou Ellen lifted the last of the bags out of the van and handed it to one of her younger brothers. He whinced as he grabbed it, but hoisted it onto his back.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry it for you? Your arm hasn't healed yet."

  But he shook his head and mumbled something under his breath before he shuffled off.

She watched him warily as he joined the others, before she picked up her own small shoulder bag and walked around the van.

  Alabaster was leaning against the hood, waiting for her with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"Theo should let his arm rest," he said and nodded towards their brother. "Make sure someone from the Apollo cabin has a look at it, would you?"

"I know just the guy," Lou Ellen said. Alabaster huffed, but didn't say anything. They both knew that if they picked up that discussion again, they would end up arguing, and Lou Ellen would prefer to avoid that for once.

  There had been too many harsh words the past month, ever since Manhattan. Ever since she was wounded, and Cecil found her and took her to their makeshift infermary. Ever since they lost and she voted for a truce. Ever since she was chosen to represent the children of Hecate when Alabaster was deamed "too influental, too corrupted".

  Ever since they realized they would never come to an agreement. And now, there was no time left to do any more attempts. They would just have to agree to disagree.

  Her throat tightened.

"You'll IM us, right?" she asked. "Keep us updated on how you are doing?"

Alabaster glared at his shoes.

"You know I can't."

"We could write?"

"Lou..."

"Just an adress, so I can visit?"

"Stop!"

    Even the other kids stopped talking and looked up. One reassuring nod from Alabaster, and they all turned their attention back to their quiet conversation. It made her sigh.

"They will never trust me like they trust you," Lou Ellen whispered, and regretted it just as she said it. It was a thought that had kept her awake for weeks, but speaking it out loud made it so much more true. As a child of Hecate, she was very aware of the power words held.

"Give them time," Alabaster said softly, without any sign of malice. "You were second in command, everyone knows you are a great leader. They are just worried about what awaits them at camp. Most of them have never even been here, they were left alone in the dark to fend for themselves."

  The phracing made Lou Ellen frown.

"Al?"

"You have spark, Lou. That is why you are a leader. You light up that same spark in others." He stood and tapped his thighs. "I actually have something for you. Hold on."

  He opened the door on the driver's side and Lou Ellen could hear him search for something in his backpack. When he came back around, he was holding an unlit torch.

"I know you love puns, Lou. So..." Alabaster coughed, just loud enough to get their siblings attention.

"Lou Ellen, I am handing over the torch to you."

  She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as Alabaster took her hand in his and placed it around the wood. "I trust you. I trust you will look after our brothers and sisters. And..." he stared at her, his green eyes serious and steely, "I trust you will honor those we have lost."

  She made sure not to blink as she nodded. "I will."

  Finally, Alabaster looked away. He made an honorable attempt to smile as he held out his arms towards the others.

"One last hug before I am off, guys?"

  The way he said it made it sound like he was just off on holiday, but it didn't fool anyone. Lou Ellen stepped back and watched as every single one of her siblings hugged him and then tried to dry away the tears from their cheeks. Alabaster whispered friendly messages and made sure every rib got properly fractured. When everyone else had said their goodbyes, Lou Ellen threw her arms around him and tried to achieve some kind of closure by hugging the last of her feelings out of her body. He whispered one last command to her, too low for anyone else to hear.

"Do not forget anyone, got it? Dead or alive."

  Then he gently pushed her away, and without making eyecontact with anyone, he went straight for the van.

  They watched as it disapeared in the dark. When the fainth sound of the engine got swallowed by the wind in the trees, Lou Ellen drew a couple of deep breaths. Her throat was still tight and her eyes stung, but her cheeks were dry. Once she spoke, she was content to hear that her voice was steady and light.

"Okay then. Off we go."

  She spoke an incantation and the torch lit up with a bright, orange flame.

  Her siblings picked up their bags and backpacks. Two of them kept their arms around each other and sniffed. Then they followed as she led the way down the hill.

Mineshaft

The list of things I used to be is longer than the list of things I am

Ex-lover, ex-friend

Ex-communicated atheist and an ex-patriot

Living in the heartland

Living on the small chance

Luck would save the last dance

-Dessa

There were no clouds to hide the stars, but the thin cresent moon didn't give her much light. It didn't matter, though. The torch in her hand burned as bightly as it had that night she had lead her siblings to camp a year and a half ago. It felt right to light it up again tonight. As if she was leading more brothers and sisters home. It gave her a flash of deja-vu, a feeling that she should know what was to happen next.

  Lou Ellen had assumed the campfire would be cold coal and stubborn everlasting embers, but it burned as strong and warm as it had when they had left it earlier that night. Her own torch suddenly seemed small next to it, and with just a flick of her hand and a commanding word, it went out.

  The fire invited her forward and reminded her of a home she had once had, but lost, and of people who should have been here with her, but who too had been lost.

  People she thought about every day, but it wasn't until tonight that she dared ask about them. She was afraid of what answers she might get. With the Grove of Dodona close by, asking questions didn't feel too safe, even with the chimes she knew played an improvised melody of prophecies. It had basically kidnapped Cecil earlier this year, and ever since, she had hosted what she believed was a healthy scepticism towards it.

  But she had come to discover other ways to ask. She felt ready now, with Mirandas words still echoing in her head and beconing her forward.

  Lou Ellen reached out her hand over the hot flames. It stang, but then words emerged on the back of her hand, written in glowing cursive of embers. The burning sensation stopped, and she lowered her hand further before closing her eyes. She started chanting a long verse in ancient Greek. A command and a plea, for her mother Hecate, the carrier of the torches. For Hestia, who tended the flame sometimes used as a funeral pyre. For Hades, who kept the souls who had lived for a moment and stayed dead for eternity.

  She could feel the currents of the mist around her, curiously attracted to the strong magic. Her hands felt prickly and heavy with it. Time became as flowing and fleeting as water and mist. Had she finished her verse and started all over again? Or had she just begun? In her chest, she felt a tug. A summoning. Like pulling on a rope that dissapeared into the darkness of a well, waiting to see the dim outline of the bucket in the depths.

A noise behind her made her jump and she broke off her chanting. She turned, the magic she had summoned still stirring in her hands and chest.

  At first, she thought the intruder was a stranger. The mist tightened around her, shaping her apperance to make her look more terryfying - tall, fit, strong, and with a glow in her eyes that once had made enemies cringe as she stared them down.

  Then, he spoke.

"Nice trick, Lou, but you do not fool me. Those pink sweatpants are not exactly frightening. Your behind litterally says CUTIE."

"Nico?" Even to her own ears, her voice was unfamiliar and deep, a husky growl. She allowed the mist to drift away from her like cold waves.

  It was no surprise that she hadn't recognized him. Underneath the usual black bomber jacket, he wore an over-sized orange tee and a pair of grey plated pyjamas pants. The back of his hair stuck out in an odd angle, as if he had gone to bed with wet hair and forgot to brush it. In the dim and flickering light, he looked like a bad charicature of himself. Almost a perfect replica, but slightly off.

  In an attempt to regain controll of the situation, she put on her best smirk, the one that would be worthy of a child of Hermes.

"You are the one to talk. Are you testing out a new look? I must say, it does not suit you."

"Very funny," he huffed. "Your spell woke me up."

  That took her off guard.

"It... did?" Then he knew what she had attempted?

  He shrugged and walked up to her to stand by the fire.

"What did you expect? You wanted information about the dead, didn't you? Well, here I am."

  When she didn't react, he rubbed his eyes, before explaining with a softer voice.

"You asked for a way to find out what happened to the souls of the dead demigods who fought under Kronos. I suppose it worked. It woke me up and pulled me here. You can talk to me."

  It wasn't that she hadn't considered it. Ever since Nico had returned last summer, the question had simmered in the surface of her mind every time he was around. It was something about his aura that made memories of her dead siblings more vivid. If she sat next to him by the campfire before bedtime, she would dream of them. Usually, she would dream of things that made her happy. She would remember their smiles. The little quirks and ticks. Whole conversations they once had.

  Sometimes, though, she would have nightmares. A distant cry for help deep down under gravel and bricks. The weight of a sister wrapped in a shawl, whom she had carried to the funeral pyre last summer. And worse, so much worse, screams from down below the earth, beyond her reach.

  Maybe she was a masochist, but she often tried to stay close to Nico before bed. There were so many she hadn't been able to save. The least she could do was to dream about them and keep their memory alive.

  Lou Ellen stared into the flames.

"Miranda said some things today. It made me think," she said, feeling she had to explain why she was here only now. "Things got a bit... heated. She said she was sorry, she really was, but a lot of it was true. Me, my brothers and sisters, we did fight on the losing side. We fought you. We fought to kill."

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye. In contrast to the dancing light of the flames, were shaddows that lingered and clinged to him wherever they could find refuge. It made his face seem hollow, and reminded her of the skull shaped helmet he had worn when she first saw him. When he was just another nameless demigod to attack and preferably wound.

"I would have killed you, given the chance. If i couldn't wound you, I would rather see you dead than alive."

  Nico nodded.

"Likewise."

"What would Hades do to me, if I had slaughtered his only child. Even if it was to stop you from killing one of my friends or siblings." It wasn't a question, and they both knew. Instead, they watched the flames flicker and embers rise from the fire.

 Right here, a year ago, she had seen the remaints of her sister been devoured by warm fire. Had she been redeamed? Lou Ellen remembered how she had cried every night for a month after Manhattan, because she had killed an other demigod. After they came to camp, she had found out who he was. She had devoted so much time to find out everything about the unclaimed boy from the Hermes cabin, she began mumbeling his name in her sleep. When the Romans surrounded camp, she'd taken to scream it, until Will made Lou Ellen cook a sleeping potion that would make her sleep without dreams.

  Did she ever meet him in the underworld? Had she been given the possibility to tell him how sorry she was? Had he forgiven her?

"I will see what I can do for them," Nico evetually said, his eyes still on the fire. "Spring is coming. Hades is not very... diplomatic in spring. But I will do what I can."

  Her eyes stung, and she was pretty sure it wasn't from campfire smoke.

"Nico?"

"They have not gone to the fields of punishment. Their souls partly belong to Aries, as they are victims of war on the losing side. He would not want his souls to be tortured. It would make them too weak to fight. Maybe I can have them reincarnated, if Aries and Hades would allow it."

  Her breath felt shaky, and she hurried to summon the mist to her. It caressed Lou Ellen's cheeks with cold touches, hiding her tears and the sound of her sobs. If Nico knew, he didn't say anything, but let her have the silence to herself.

  After a couple of minutes, the tears stopped running and though her throat still felt thick and tight and her eyes still stung, she allowed the mist to drift away.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarce and raspy.

"It is the least I ca-"

  She embrazed him and squeezed him tight, allowing him to take his time to relax. It took five heartbeats for him to hug her back, and she didn't let go until she had counted another seven. He didn't look directly at her, but scratched his nose awkwardly.

"You should probably try to get some sleep, Lou. I'll talk to Chiron in the morning about leaving for the Underworld for a few days."

"Yeah," she said, smiling tiredly, and turned to go. When he didn't follow, she stopped and looked back at him.

"You not coming?"

  He shrugged.

"There are other friends I want to talk to now that I am here anyway. Just go ahead." Nico sat down by the fire. "See you tomorrow."

"Okay." She looked around, but there were no one else but them. But she supposed Nico knew more about presents in the darkness than she did. "I manipulated the mist to fool the harpies, but it probably won't last for more than an hour. Try not to get eaten, di Angelo." After a few steps, she stopped again and grinned at Nico. "Oh, and Nico, by the way. I totally recognize the smell of Will's deodorant on that shirt."

"Oh, shut up, Blackstone," was his only comment, but as she walked back to the cabin, she was sure she could hear Nico talk to himself by the hearthfire.

  That night, Lou Ellen dreamt of her siblings, even more vividly than she had ever done before. She dreamt of joyful memories, things that had happened long ago. When she woke the next morning, the memories still lingered in her mind.

~•°•~•°•~

Champion - Fall Out Boy

Kids In The Dark - All Time Low

Mineshaft - Dessa

#bfire92 #rick riordan #lou ellen #lou ellen blackstone #hecate #cecil markowitz #will solace #alabaster torrington #cecil #will #alabaster #nico di angelo #hestia #hades #aries #nico #solangelo #percy jackson #pjo #fanfiction #fanfic #lou #son of magic #the last olympian #the blood of olympus #the hidden oracle #camp half-blood #magic #fantasy #brainfart

[lord-explosion-baku]

Like Ghosts In Snow (Ch. 2)

While your guardian is keeping a huge secret you take on the nightlife and find yourself in a mad supernatural hellzone.

Vampire au, villain au

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence

A/N: I had written 90% of this before I started requests and figured I’d finish it before continuing. I’ll get on to do more requests Thursday at the latest! Deku is here! I’m stoked.

Previous

Chapter 2: Ambrosia

You sat on the passenger seat of Bakugou’s Oldsmobile and listened to his shitty gangster rap music. Eijirou moved around in the back seat from window to window allowing his head to pop out to catch the cool salty pacific air, occasionally popping his head over your seat to give kisses and sniffs.

Bakugou parked the car on the side of the road. You knew immediately by looking around that this was a college town. Kids around your age walked in groups up and down the street, shopping, finding hot spots, looking for places to get a drink or go to dinner. They skipped and cheered and laughed with one another. You felt a twinge if jealousy watching other kids having fun with their friends.

“The comic book store a couple blocks away so we’re gonna have to walk,” Bakugou said letting Eijirou our of the car. Eijirou sat on the sidewalk waiting patiently for the two of you to start walking. A good boy.

Before you got out of the car, you bent down to tie your shoe. Bakugou opened your door for you. You looked up at him surprised. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you said slightly slurring the word ‘chivalry.’

“Hurry the fuck up.” Woah there, partner.

You slid down your seat and out of the car and walked fast paced towards the sidewalk however you managed to trip over your own leg and nearly fell into the road.

It was like you were frozen in air. You started at the street but your face never met it. At that same moment a 1967 black mustang sped down the road. The would’ve hit me, you thought yourself.

Bakugou pulled you onto the sidewalk. He had caught you by your hand just in time. “It would be really nice,” he growled at you, “if we could make it to this damn comic book store without you getting yourself fucking killed.”

You blinked at him. He had saved you by he was still so mean. You looked into his glowering red eyes. He did look a bit concerned. Still he was being so rude to you, and why?

You laughed. “I just wanted you to hold my hand,” you said innocently. You looked down at your hand still intertwined with his.

He threw it away stalking off down the street. You thought for a second you had seen him blush. You just shake your head.

You walked in silence for a while, watching as Eijirou sniffed every lamppost, ever plant, and every trash can you passed by. People avoided Bakugou on the street, making sure to walk into the road to avoid being near him. It probably didn’t help the Eijirou was a growling machine whenever anyone looked his way.

“We’re going to cut down this alley and walk behind the buildings. The dog is wasting our time stopping every second he can to get his damn fix.” So you followed Bakugou down an alley with Eijirou watching carefully behind you.

The alleyway was plastered with ‘Missing Person’ posters. Faces of all ages stared at you with messages from loved ones pleading for the viewer to call specified numbers if there was any information on their whereabouts. You read some of the names. ‘Momo Yaoyorozu’... ‘Denki Kaminari’... ‘Hitoshi Shinsou’... You came upon a poster where the person’s face was torn away from the wall. The name read ‘Izuku Midoriya.’

Bakugou has stopped walking to watch you look at all the posters. You turned to him and asked, “is this town safe?”

“Does it feel safe?” He glared at you. He was so cryptic.

You gulped. It didn’t. But you weren’t going to let this smug fucker spook you out when you wanted to enjoy your night. You sarcastically fluttered your lashes gave him a smile, curling a lock of hair around your finger and gushed, “I feel safe knowing that a big strong man such as yourself is here to be my personal body guard.” You could nearly see steam fuming out of his nostrils. Eijirou barked at you, as if to say, I’m here too you know! You turned away from him and skipped down the alleyway.

The back of each building had something beautifully painted on it. You were mesmerized by the swirl of blue mixed with an orange and pink hue that painted a landscape of a giant wave crashing against a bluff. The next building had the scene of a thunder storm in the middle of a desert, the cactus and dunes were silhouetted against a purple night sky with a white lightning bolt bursting through it.

The last building on your trek really caught your eye. An incredibly bulky man stood over a mound of skeletons that had pointed teeth. His blonde hair seemed to be blowing in the wind. He held a medieval axe in one hand while his other flexed showing off rippling muscles. He had a huge conquering smile on.

“We’re here,” Bakugou snapped you out of your daze.

“Wow,” was all you said.

“Tch,” Bakugou looked down at Eijirou who seemed almost as amazed as you were at the painting. You didn’t think dogs could understand artwork. “You’re staying right here,” Bakugou said to the dog.

Eijirou let out a whine but he sat down obediently.

A bell dinged as you entered the store. At the front, an older man sat staring blankly through the window at people walking by. He was scrawny, nearly skin and bones, eyes sunken in casting a shadow over his face, but he had wild blonde hair, with bangs parted down the middle falling to either side of his face. When you walked by, giving him a smile, he slowly put up a hand to greet you but continued to stare outside, as if his greeting was only a reflex. Bakugou didn’t look at him.

The place was filled. Different swords and weapons decorated the walls, comic books grew in stacks, there were standees of heroes from recent movies you’ve watched in theaters, and separate sections for old movies, games, and cds were labeled in pictures and stickers, and there were stairs towards the back of the store labeled ‘records,’ with a sign pointing up.

You slowly walked to a stack of books and fingered the folds of a random book before picking it up. It had been a manga from the mid 2000’s called, ‘My Date With a Teenaged Vampire.’ You snickered to yourself as you flipped through the pages, watching the heroine blush and swoon over a very cheesy looking vampire.

Bakugou scoffed over your shoulder causing you to jump and throw the book back into the stack. “Jesus! Hover much, Katsuki?”

“It’s Bakugou,” he rolled his eyes at you. “Of course you’re one of those girls that believe in that ‘vampires are romantic, star crossed lovers, fate’s kiss’ bullshit. Vampires feed, kill, and burn, in that order.”

“And werewolves howl, piss on trees, and hump each other, in that order,” you wanted to defend yourself but you didn’t want him to think you cared about what he thought about you. You didn’t.

“Werewolves don’t exist,” he said crossing his arms, challenging you.

“And vampires do? Honestly, Bakugou, if you are gonna be a killjoy, you could just wait outside.”

“I don’t see why the fuck not. It’s not like I wanna be here.”

“The door,” you said, motioning towards the outside, “is right over there.”

He narrowed his eyes and slammed his hand on the table next to you and started leaning in to you causing you to move away from him. For a split second you thought he was going to kiss you but the thought quickly left your mind when he stopped right in front of you, his hot breath on h s face. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he whispered and shoved something to your chest before stalking away towards the front. You watched as he swung the door open, causing the bell to ring, and the shopkeeper raised his hand to say goodbye to his guest.

You looked at what Bakugou had left you. It was a comic book from the 1980’s. The title of the book was blacked out with sharpie pen and over it written in chipping whiteout was ‘10 Ways To Absolutely Destroy a Vampire.’ You flipped through the comic and saw various different scribbles over the original work, seeming to correct or call bullshit on certain things the comic had written in it. You read through a strip where the hero dramatically piles a stake through the heart of a vampire the words ‘obviously’ were messily scribbled next to the perishing vampire. You scrunched your face. Why did Bakugou give you trash? You flipped to the last page of the book where ‘property of Edgar and Alan Frog: vampire hunters’ were written. “Well, Edgar and Alan Frog, you guys are psychos,” you said aloud.

A sudden ring from the door front caused you to jump. You glanced up to see the shopkeeper put up his hand in greeting but didn’t see anybody in the store. A shiver went up your spine. Maybe it was someone lost or confused and turned back immediately? You shrugged it off but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

You made your way up the stairs to look at the collection of records. You flipped through the $2” stack and read through dozens of bands you hadn’t heard of. Your hand ghosted over some lapel pins representing music labels. You made your way over to the rock bands that were in an alphabetized order. You scanned through through the D’s; David Bowie, Dead Kennedy’s, Depeche Mode, and your fingers landed on the Morrison Hotel album by the Doors. You pulled it out of the stack and you felt eyes on you again.

You turned abruptly and your eyes met with mesmerizing emerald ones. You smiled at the messy haired boy who was fixated on you before returning reading the back of the album.

“Jim Morrison... quite the inspiration,” a friendly voice rang in your ears.

Nervous at the stranger speaking to you you didn’t look up from the album when you replied, “yeah... I think my dad is a big fan of his. I’m thinking about getting him this album.”

“You should get it for yourself,” the voice was right up against your ear. You took a step away and turned to the boy, giving him a surprised look.

His green irises peaked through half lidded eyes, face dusted in freckles, his red lips stretched into a lazy smile when he got a good look at you. He almost looked like a doll. He wore a white dress shirt with a black vest, black slacks, and converse. His cute face did not match his clothes at all.

“M-maybe I will,” you felt an uneasy tension creep up your back.

Taking a step closer he reached behind you, his arm pressing uninvitedly on your shoulder, and pulled a different record back into his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you’re going to get an album by The Doors, might I suggest ‘Strange Days,’?” He flipped the vinyl over to show up the list of songs, rubbing his shoulder against yours. “Some of the songs feature a harpischord, an elegant instrument that’s not usually associated with rock and roll.” When you didn’t say anything he continued, “you know, when Morrison died they didn’t do surgery on his body to see what his cause of death was. Some believe he might still be alive.”

That made you laugh. “Yeah he’s probably somewhere sharing a drink with Elvis, right?”

The boy grinned at your joke. “Yeah, something like that,” the spirit of eerie irony filled his voice.

You took the vinyl from his hands and admired the odd photo they used as the album cover.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked.

“F/N L/N,” you said without hesitation. You felt you should be cautious around him but you couldn’t help but blurt out the honest answer immediately. A shiver shot through your body.

“F/N L/N,” your name was drawled our through his lips, slowly, as if he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “You’re a friend of Kacchan’s?”

“Who?”

The boy chuckled humorlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou. I can smell him on you.” Another uneasy wave hit you, still you were unable to move away from the boy. “He has a hard time making friends.”

“I can’t fathom why,” you said rolling your eyes.

The boy jumped up to sit on top of the counter holding the records. He smiled down on you. “I like you, y/n,” he said slightly kicking his feet. He reached over to the box of lapel pins and held it in his lap. He tilted his head to the side and asked, “Will you do me a favor?”

I don’t think so. “Sure.”

“Give me your hand.”

Your right hand involuntarily reached up to reach the boys. Taking one of the lapel pins he pricked your pointer finger. You winced, shooting your hand back. A drop of scarlet oozed from the tip. You sucked at your wound.

The boy’s smile grew, his tongue pressed against his white teeth. “What does it taste like?”

Leave. Turn around and leave. Go find Bakugou and go home. “It takes like,” you licked your finger, “skin and copper.” Why do you want to know?

He bit his lip, looking pleased. He held out his hand to you once more. “Let me try.”

Again your hand met his. He caresses your arm as he brought your bleeding finger to his lips, keeping eye contact with you, he kissed your finger. “Oh,” he took your finger into your mouth, you felt his tongue swirl around the wound, and he sucked. A greedy moan escaped his lips.

You felt a different kind of tingling envelope your body. It’s like you were entranced by this man who was sampling your blood.

Looking pleased, he let your hand fall to your side. “You taste magnificent. Like honey, sunshine,... ambrosia.” He licked his lips as if the taste of you lingered on them. “I can’t wait to have you when you’re not intoxicated.”

How does he know? How am I not screaming? Why can’t I call for help? Questions ran rapidly through your head as you stared at the green haired boy, paralyzed.

He hopped down from the counter and started walked towards the stairs. “Sadly, we’ll have to save that for another... date.”

Your body was burning to move. “What’s your name?” Was all you could muster.

He tossed his head back, sleepy eyes landing on you. “*Izuku Midoriya*, but you won’t be remembering that anytime soon.” The boy disappeared down the stairs.

Chapter 3

~

Tags for EVERYTHING: @yandere-inamorata @doriichii @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @kido-is-not-a-ghost @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelenore @kpanime @jetblackjessie @ayeputita @bokunoheroes-stories @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland

If you asked to be tagged in Like Ghosts In Snow please remind me. The list slipped through my silly seal flippers and I misplaced it.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #my hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha reader insert #reader insert #villain deku x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader

[doublerumnukacola]

Distraction

Sole left Daisy’s store with a sad wave. It had been a difficult few weeks, hell it had been difficult since she left the damn vault… But her mind quickly brushed away the thought, protecting her from dwelling on it.

She was tired of the sights and sounds of Goodneighbor. The excursion this morning had been refreshing, she’d almost felt like her old self. There was something cathartic about sniping a Super Mutant suicider and watching it take out five of its closest friends. Maybe another stroll through the ruins was needed. Maybe she’d stop by the old North Church, there was usually an errand or two to do there.

The ruins were unnaturally quiet. She'd seen to that earlier. Perhaps she’d been a little overzealous. She continued towards the Boston Common. Maybe she could find a quiet spot to collect her thoughts and count her caps. There were a lot of both.

Just then she heard the shift of gravel behind her. She continued, feigning ignorance, but glancing around her using peripheral vision. It was lucky she’d planned this detour beforehand, Boston Common was ideal for unwanted company.

She continued on, towards Swans pond. She could hear the hesitation in their steps now. The white roof of the ancient bandstand was well in view, as well as the infamous sunken swans. Sole could have launched a fat man into this lake any time she wanted, she’d considered it once or twice as well, but she didn't for this reason in particular. She stood at the fence around the murky pond. She bent down, looking for a suitable stone. Sole smiled to herself, and activated her stealth boy...

Hiding out in the Boylston club, she could still hear the behemoths roars, and the crash of lobbed debris. Who ever had been tailing her would be a million miles away by now if they had any sense. Not many had the reckless sense of adventure that would lead to exploring the area, much less find this place.

She sat on one of the dusty armchairs, amongst the former club members. It was a macabre scene, skeletons in decaying suits, some with cigars still clenched in their jaw. Still, aside from the ruckus outside, it was peaceful. There were a few wine bottles dotted around, some still filled, but she knew better than to indulge. After all, she’d snooped around on the terminal behind the counter, and it wasn’t the bomb that finished these gentleman off.

After a while the roars subsided, the behemoth settling back into the pond, returning to their slumber. She'd have to be extra quiet about leaving, couldn't risk waking them again.

She was starting to drift off in the chair, when the front door creaked open, and shut quietly. Her heart rate shot up instantly. Who would come here? Who would be so stupidly diligent in their surveillance? It didn’t match the M.O. of the institute, and certainly not of any raider group she’d pissed off…

“Honey, I'm hooome!” A familiar voice sang out quietly, poking their head around the corner and into the lounge, sunglasses catching the shafts of light.

“Oh dear, you look so haggard. I’ll bet traffic home was just murder.” Sole joked, her heart rate returning. She should have known it was him.

“Oh you wouldn't believe it! Is this seat taken?” Deacon smiled, plopping himself on the couch, careful not to disturb the skeleton beside him. “Some jerk nearly cut me off, literally. A whole car just came at me.” Sole laughed, a little embarrassed.

“Really? Because I had a creep tail me home, had to ask him politely, but firmly, to buzz off.” She countered.

“Alright that’s fair.” He admitted with a grin. “It’s just been difficult to get ahold of you lately.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in the same place for a month. Not too hard to track someone in Goodneighbor.” Sole snorted.

“Really?” Deacon asked, “All I’ve seen around Goodneighbor is some mopey Vault dweller in your clothes. This morning was the first time I’ve seen you in weeks.” There was silence. He had a point, but he could have made it without being a dick. He took a breath.

“Soooo wanna talk about it?” Another silence. Finally she sighed.

“It was a couple weeks ago, or so people tell me. Feels more like months. We’d just gotten a cure for Duncan, his kid. I knew he’d go back and see his son, but I’d hoped we could do it together… And that we’d do it after we found Shaun...” She paused. “When he left, I kept expecting a letter… A message in a bottle… Even a  fucking smoke signal would be nice…” She gave a small bitter smile. “I forgot how nice it was to swear, at least sober anyway.”

“I’d heard about that,” Deacon noted. “Always struck me as strange that a guy willing to run with ruthless mercenaries would avoid swearing.” Sole shot him a look, he held up his hands in surrender and made a motion of zipping his lips.

“Anyways…. Nothing came. After a week I stopped checking up on Daisy. After two I started to drink. Four days on and I hadn't done anything but cry and drink.” Deacon mimed his comments on the situation, wringing his fist on the corner of his eye with one hand as if sobbing, and with the other mimed chugging a bottle. It was as impressive as it was irritating. Sole ignored him all the same and continued. “Hancock picked me up, gave me a job, I sobered up, and I'm not looking back.”

“Except this afternoon when you came crying to Daisy again.” Deacon added, receiving another sharp look from Sole.

“A moment of weakness.” She admitted. “But hope’s not an easy thing to let go of.”

“The prick used you to save his son.” Deacon said bluntly. His jovial demeanor falling for a moment. “Gold star for motive, dying kid is pretty good justification, but he still played you.”

“No…” She denied softly.

“Going out to kill Winlock and Barnes was a test to see how far you’d go for him. Killing a few feral and grabbing a cure were nothing compared to taking on a fleet of gunners.” Deacon continued, a bitter edge to his voice now. “But don't worry, the sick kid part was true. I checked up on that through quite a few channels. Couldn't believe he wasn't just selling it-” Deacon was cut off by Sole’s hand striking them across the face, breathless with anger.

“You’re wrong…” She countered sharply, eyes welling up. “Sure, he left. And I don't expect him to come back, or understand why, but he loved me. And I… I loved him…” She glared down at Deacon, who was rubbing the red mark on his face. He felt lucky she hadn't just shot him.

“...That was real. Not a manipulation… Not a lie…” She spat at the floor beside him. “ But I know that's something of an alien concept to you.” He stood up, towering a good half foot over her. She stood her ground.

“An alien concept, huh?” He said thoughtfully, rubbing out the last of the soreness, even in her rage he could feel that she held back. “Maybe. But a liar knows a liar.” He started towards the front door. “And you can't lie to me, Sole.” He continued softly. “You didn't really love him. No matter what you tell yourself.” He dodged another swing, letting her fist connect with the doorway, she winced in pain, clutching her damaged fist.

“You can be a real bastard sometimes…” She hissed. “What makes you such an authority on the subject of my love life? Last I checked you wanted nothing to do with it.” A smirk flashed across his face, sunglasses glinting.

“We both know that was just a crush for you. Fresh out of the Vault, you’re bound to fall for the first handsome man that doesn't try to disembowel you.” He said knowingly.

“What about Preston?” Sole countered with a smile.

“OK you were bound to fall for the second handsome-” He tried again.

“Sturges.” She added.

“He is a very pretty man…” Deacon agreed.

“Arturo Rodriguez.”

“The gunshop guy in Diamond city? I mean admittedly I think he’s been on everyone's Christmas list for awhile…”

“Nick Valentine.”

“Not being sythnist but…”

“Danse.”

“Not being asshole-ist but…”

“Tinker Tom.”

“Ooh I’ll have to tell him you said that.”

“Don't bother, he’s too in love with MILA.” Deacon waved his hands in surrender.

“OK I get it, you resisted many a handsome man before you fell for me.” He admitted. “But it was still just a crush. Happens to the best of us. Working long hours in high pressure situations is bound to cause a few sparks to fly.”

“Tell that to a heartbroken Agent Charmer, who launched herself into every available mission and picked up every dead-drop possible to get their mind off their emotionally detached mentor.” Sole started jokingly, slowly growing more dejected with every word, and finishing with a weak chuckle and forced smile.

“And look at Charmer now!” He said enthusiastically. “All grown up and moving on to bigger and better heartbreaks!” Sole smile became more genuine. “You’ll find someone, Sole, but in the meantime just refocus on the Railroad, refocus on Shaun. It takes a lot to keep our little family going, but we’re so close to bringing down the institute and finding him . We can't afford anymore delays.” Sole was quiet. “Clearing out around Goodneighbor was a big help, helped us send out a few packages that had been sitting around. Keep up like that and You’ll get Agent of the month in no time.” He leaned in and smirked. “It's been Carington 6 months in a row, so you got a lot of competition.”

I used to think I could write Deacon well, until I read Thick as Theives by Kyokaen. Curse that beautiful person.

Anyway, for what spilled this mess, click here

For some hot mayor/sniper action click here (spoiler: Its not)

For something I had to write to write this, click here

For some hot mayor/Amari action click here (spoiler: Its not)

For issues regarding your fuckmaster 300 vibrator, please hold.

#fallout #fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #fallout fanfic #deacon

[dandelions-sea-blog]

These are the Nights that Never Die Chapter Three

Read on Ao3(so much better there)

Rainy Days are the worst....

Previous || First || Next

“Wow… the storm’s gotten really bad, hasn’t it?” Blue says, looking up at the sky. Despite the fact that it was mostly clear, with only a few fluffy clouds covering up the blue ocean above, the RV has been plagued with moaning winds and harsh rain all morning.

“yeah, it’s really raining dimes and nickels out there…” Red says, head in his hand.

“What does that even mean?” Blue asks, giving his friend an odd look.

“that there’s been a change in the weather.”

“Stop.” Blue slaps his palm into Red’s face. It only seems to encourage him.

“Is Red making unnecessarily complicated puns again?” Papyrus sighs, eyes never leaving the table as he scrubs it clean, removing all remnants of their breakfast. He’s tenser than normal; under his eyes are a woven pattern of black swelling.

“Yes, he is,” Blue pouts. Red places a hand over his soul.

“excuse? my puns are only as complex as they necessarily have to be,” He claims in mock outrage.

Blue rolls his eyes, going back to staring at the clouds. They are honestly very pretty… days like these just don’t seem real; when the sky looks just so perfect like this. Ah, if the weather wasn’t so bad they could all go out and have a picnic with the new food that Sans and Edge bought last night! It would be nice to get out of the RV… it has started to accumulate a bit of smell that Blue can’t quite find where it’s coming from.

A particularly bad gust of wind hits the side of the camper, causing Blue to jump and Red to jerk awake from his half nap. Sans watches them from behind.

“why don’t ya come away from the window?” He says from the couch,  “ain’t good t’ be that close to glass during a storm…” Sans’ books and spreadsheets laid out in front of him. He does all the planning for the trip; deciding where they’ll stop next, how much water they can use, how much food they have. Blue sometimes wonders what he does to be able to afford a vacation like this… it’s rude to ask though.

“Oh okay,” Blue says, pulling Red’s arm over to the couch. Blue takes a seat next to Sans while Red sprawls out on the floor, snoozing quietly. “...Lazy.” Blue mutters, shaking his head. At least the others have an excuse, being out all night getting groceries.

Sans hardly seems to notice when Blue sits down next to him, frantically scribbling on sheets of paper as he sweats in silence. Everyone seems to be stressed out today; Blue imagines it has to do with the storm. Papyrus is oddly quiet, hardly taking up any conversations or banters with his counterpart, and Edge has been particularly snippy as well. It all makes Blue very uncomfortable, but he refuses to bring it up in fear of making everything worse.

Blue plays with his hands for a while, trying to seem uninterested in the incredibly interesting things that Sans is up to. He may not want Blue looking over his shoulder, after all. He seems pretty deep in focus right now… He looks up at the ceiling, attempting to count every tile on the roof… then all of the corners of all the tiles… then all of the dead flies in spiderwebs that they really should clean off sometime …

“So whatcha doin’?” Blue finally breaks, looking over at the papers laid out all over the coffee table. In the center of them all is a blue notebook with a faded skull sticker on it. Sans smiles, glancing at Blue out of the corner of his eye.

“what, you wanna take a look at my cheat sheets?” He says, scooting over just enough that Blue can get a better view of all the papers.

“What are these?” He asks, looking over the complex documents.

Sans points to the first one. “this is water supply; we can carry about 150 gallons of water at a time, and we gotta periodically flush out the waste water.”

“That sounds hard,” Blue says.

“yeah, it’s a real drain. ”

“Mweeeh… no puns while we're learning!!!”

Sans chuckles, shuffling the papers around. “right now i am focused on making sure that we have enough food to make it to our next stop - this storm has really put us behind schedule… we might have to leave today.” Sans says with a frown, tone shifting minutely towards the ‘worried leader’ side.

“Aw, but we just got here,” Blue complains. Sans snorts.

“tell me about it… it’s a pretty big pain in my coccyx,” He says, nose ridge wrinkling up. “we got some stuff last night, but we’re gonna need a lot more before we head out for our next stop again.”

Blue hums in understanding. “So… if you don’t mind me asking… what is our next stop?”

“heh... i’ll tell ya when i figure it out.” Sans’ voice sounds deeper than usual, raw exhaustion interwoven between every syllable.

Blue raises a brow bone, confused. Don’t they have this trip planned out at all? He opens his mouth to ask exactly that when there is a loud noise from the kitchen, taking both of their attention.

“nGAH!! EDGE! PLEASE REMOVE YOUR BLASTED CAT FROM MY KITCHEN BEFORE SHE BREAKS SOMETHING ELSE!!!”

“I DO NOT CONTROL HER MOVEMENTS, PERHAPS YOU SHOULD NOT STACK THOSE PLATES SO PRECARIOUSLY!!”

“welp... i better go step in before someone busts a skull…” Sans says, sliding off the couch. Blue scoots over entirely onto the couch, looking over the notebook that Sans left behind. He hesitates… is it rude to look in here when Sans had already sort of gave him permission? Yes, but Blue isrealllllly curious; he decides one little peak is a forgivable offense.

Blue giggles to himself as he opens the book, feeling like a child going through their parent’s drawers. Inside he finds page after page of calculations; records of how much fuel they’ve used, how much they’ll need, where they’ve been, places they plan to go… some sections are crossed out with little scrawlings giving reasons as to why this plan won’t work, or why going to that state is out of the question… just a bunch of random, ramblings thoughts and plans that Sans has collected.

Blue finds himself quickly bored with his searches, scanning through the pages until he gets closer to today’s date. He stops when the pages run out, going back to the last writings that Sans made.

Water:

   Runs out in 3 days

Black Water:

  Overflowing

Food:

  Runs out in 6 days

Ammo:

  Low but not dangerous. Yet.

Electricity:

  Literally the only fucking resource we have.

Closest Safe-Havens:

   Pleasant town (Too far)

  Gaston (Probably not safe)

  Hagersville (Not enough gas)

  Berton (Too Residential)

Conclusion: We’re fucked.

Blue hums, looking over the notes. Well these seem… rather bleak. No wonder Sans seems so stressed out all the time! He is doing so much planning and worrying that he doesn’t have time to enjoy this trip at all!

Blue closes the notebook, setting it back down where he found it. He claps his hands together. Well! This certainly won’t do! He won’t allow their brilliant leader to be bogged down with so much worry. Blue is going to make sure that he has fun tonight.

Sliding off the couch, Blue taps Red with his foot. The other stirs, looking up sleepily.

“wha…?” He says, rubbing an eye.

“Get up, lazy bones - we have planning to do!” Blue says, skipping back to their room. Red just shrugs, following along.

“whatever ya say, kid,” He mutters.

“now, have th’ two ‘o ya finally got that out of yer systems?” Sans says, exhausted from mediating the two very large yet immature skeletons in front of him.

Edge frowns, holding his precious cat to his chest. “I would be more satisfied if he would apologize to Doomfanger.” He says with a genteel tone.

“I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE TO THAT ANNOYING CAT!” Papyrus folds his arms, “YOU ARE LUCKY THAT SANS MADE ME APOLOGIZE FOR YELLING AT YOU.”

Edge snarls as the two fall right back into bickering. Sans sighs hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. This… is exasperating. Everyone is exhausted from their stressful night, and waking up to a hoard of zombies banging at the side of the bus this morning wasn’t exactly the most relaxing turn of events.

He doesn’t even try to get between the Papyruses this time, just sitting down on the dining booth as he waits them out. The van rocks as a particularly enthusiastic zombie slams its body into the side of the vehicle. Really, this is his fault. He should have known this place would be crawling with crawlers… except it also had so many useful resources - it was worth the risk as long as they didn’t do anything to catch the attention of any predators .

Anything, such as running out into the middle of the woods at night shouting like a crazy person …

Sans laughs at his own unintentional joke, even if it is in bad taste. He glances over to where he left the kiddo, feeling a deep pang of worry when he realizes Blue isn’t on the couch anymore. He looks around and sees that the back-room door is shut - Blue must be in there. He relaxes once more as he listens to his brother and friend snap at each other over just about every petty squabble one could have. Jeez… they haven’t fought like this since Blue came around…

That guy sure does wonders for the psyche, ironically. Sans really thought that things were gonna get better now that he was around; but nope. It was just a lull in their luck, a pleasant kink of fate. And now that they are settling back in things are going right back to shit.

Sans sighs.

“AND ANOTHER THING - DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW LOUD YOU ARE??”

He’s lost track of which one is speaking at this point… Sans puts his head against the table, digging his palms into his temples. The headache this entire conversation is giving him has spread to his patients. He’s done .

“ e n o u g h!”

Sans’ hand comes down on the table.

“alright, you two - listen up!” Sans snaps, head jerking up. If he still could, his eye would be ablaze with magic right now. He stands up off of the bench, ready to lay into the two skeletons until they put this petty squabble to bed for the rest of the day.

Except he is interrupted by a familiar, cheerful voice.

“Guyyyys~” Blue says in a sing song voice, walking into the room with one of the biggest grins they’ve ever seen on his face. In his hands he clutches a baby-blue bag - the only item they had found on his person when they discovered him locked away in the basement of his apartment complex. “I have a surprise for you~~”

Papyrus’ arms unfold and his face softens some. Of the three of them he has been the most receptive to Blue’s particular brand of positivity. It seems that no matter how bad his mood gets Blue is able to come in and cheer him right up. Edge is much less so, but even he relaxes a bit, attention turning from the skeleton beside him to the one across the room.

Sans smiles, well, this at least makes his job easier.

“heh, whatcha got there, kiddo?” Sans asks, hands shoved into his pockets. Blue’s smile grows impossibly wider. If he had skin it would probably tear with just how much force he is putting into showing his happiness.

“Close your eyes~” Blue commands.

“Now may not be the best ti-” Edge starts, abruptly cut off by Sans elbowing him in the shin. Papyrus already has his eyes shut, and Sans waits only long enough to ensure Edge’s cooperation.

“No peeking~” Blue says, voice laced with excitement. Sans can’t help the small grin that plasters itself over his face. The kiddo is just so contagious. There is a soft shuffling of fabric from in front of them, and something is unzipped as Blue places the contents of the bag down on the table in front of them.

“Ta-da!!” Blue shouts. Sans winces at the sheer volume of the noise. “You can open your eyes now!!”

Sans opens a socket to take a look at what Blue has decided to get so worked up over. Part of him is honestly expecting nothing - that he’s created some new delusion in his mind to instantly remedy the situation. But once again, the kiddo manages to surprise him.

“heh... where’d ya get that ?” Sans asks, hands in his pocket as he steps forward to observe the grey, book-shaped box that has been set up on the dining table. Even at first glance there is no mistaking what this is; a portable DVD player. Sans hasn’t owned one of those since they were in the Underground, and even then it was way back when he was a babybones. He opens the lid with a finger, looking at the screen inside. It isn’t much bigger than his hand-and-wrist, but it looks to be in perfectly good condition. He wonders if it still works…

“It’s mine,” Blue says proudly. “I carry it with me on the way to work. The buses run so slow, so I like to watch a movie on the way.” Sans snorts; that’s genius. Papyrus has bent over to look at the device, examining it with mild intrigue.

“Well that is very nice,” Edge says shortly. “But what I would like to know is why you chose now to bring on this impromptu show-and-tell.” He snarks. Sans rolls his eyes - jeez, what a wet blanket.

“Well, Red and I decided that it is time for us to have a movie night!” Blue says. The three skeletons stand up straight, looking between each other. Movie night?? Now? Blue smiles, crossing his arms. “I know that everyone is a bit stressed out because of the storm, so since there isn’t any way we can change the weather, we might as well take this time to relax and have some fun!”

Sans blinks, tapping his chin. That… isn’t a half bad idea actually. It’s not like sitting around and worrying about if-or-when the zombies will crawl back into their hiding spots is doing anyone any good. They have the extra electricity from charging in the sun all day; and if the three of them continue to stay this high strung it isn’t the hoard outside the party will have to worry about killing them all…

Edge looks less convinced, scowling at the device. “That has got to be the single dumbest idea I’ve ever-”

“heh i’m in.” Sans says with a shrug.

Both Papyrus and Edge look to him curiously

“Sans, are you feeling alright?” Papyrus asks, sounding worried. His hand comes down on Sans’ forehead. “You aren’t developing a fever, are you??”

“nah bro,” He chuckles, shaking his brother’s hand off of him. “i think it’s a good idea; our batteries are full and they’re just gonna keep chargin’ t’day since we won’t be doin’ much. i say we should just relax and take the day off.”

Papyrus doesn’t seem entirely convinced Sans is entirely sane, though apparently the idea of a movie night speaks to him as well, and he lets up. “Well, it does sound fun…” He says, a smile slowly writing it’s way onto his face.”

Edge is less convinced, looking between the two as if they had just suggested they jump out and try to make friends with the hoard surround them.

“HAVE YOU TWO LOST YOUR MIND!?” He snaps. “WE CAN’T JUST- WE CAN’T- WE HAVE TOO MANY THINGS TO DO!? SITTING AROUND JUST… DOING NOTHING????”

“it’s not doing nothing,” Sans corrects. “it’s a mental health day, for our health.” He closes the dvd player, flipping it over to check just how many watts it uses for his notebook. “if we stay cooped up in here worrying any longer we’re gonna end up killing each other or ourselves; the kiddo’s got the right idea.”

Blue squeals in pure delight. Hands curling little balls at his chest. “THIS IS SO AWESOME!! MWEHEHE… WE’RE GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN!!” He reaches into his bag, practically dumping out about half a dozen DVDs.  “I don’t have too many with me - if I had known we’d be gone this long I would have packed a few more…” He says, already going through and picking out favorites.

Sans chuckles, strolling across the room to one of the shelves.

“oh, i wouldn’t be too worried about running out of choices,” He says with a wink, opening up the doors of the storage space to reveal his and Papyrus’ collection. Practically every movie they’ve ever seen is in here, and several that they haven’t, all organized by genre and director. He turns around, delighted to see Blue’s awestruck face as he pursues the titles.

“now, what kinda movies you guys like t’ watch?”

In the end, they settled on five movies; A comedy for sans, an action thriller for Edge, a superhero film for Papyrus, a mystery for Blue, and a cartoon for Red. They drew straws to decide who goes first, all agreeing that Sans should get first pick of times since he’s done so much for them all. Blue and Red end up in the kitchen making popcorn while the other three set up the living room, finishing their chores down with twice the gusto.

An air of excitement seems to have come over the entire camper. It seems that for the first time since Blue arrived everyone is in anticipation for something; even Edge, despite his constant grumbles about how stupid this all is, seems to be just a little lighter in his steps as he goes through his routine.

By the time midday rolls around everyone is sitting in the living room, waiting. The spare duvet from the master bedroom has been pulled and laid out in the middle of the room, Papyrus and Edge sprawled out as Sans selects his dvd. Blue has finally finished popping the popcorn he found under the sink, pouring out the warm treat into bowls. He keeps the kettle ready for another batch, certain that there will be more need to be made by the time the day is through.

Blue hops up onto the couch with Sans and Red, offering up the bowls to everyone who wants one; which is everyone. Even Edge takes some popcorn, eating it slowly and savoring every bite. Papyrus is much less conservative with his, taking entire fistfuls at a time and dropping bits onto the mat which are promptly scooped up and fed to Doomfanger. Blue doesn’t actually see Sans eat any of his popcorn, but every so often when Blue looks over a little more has disappeared.

The movie is more to Sans and Red’s taste than anyone else's, but it gets a chuckle out of Blue. Sans, on the other hand, just about busts a rib with every line. Red lets out a constant stream of chuckles, drowning out the dialogue half the time. Blue acts as the runner, going between the living room and the kitchen to retrieve drinks and refresh popcorn. By the time the credits roll on the first movie everyone seems relaxed. Blue comes back from getting another round of snacks to find Papyrus leaned back into the couch with Sans draped over the armrest so the two are almost completely side by side. Red has his feet propped up by Sans’ head, looking halfway to sleep - a sign of relaxation for him. Even Edge looks less… well, on edge. He sits with his spine straight, Doomfanger in his lap. His facebones are no longer scrunched up, his shoulders hung relaxed at his side. Blue smiles at him, feeling his soul warm.

Edge glances over at Blue, face suddenly dusting with a light blush as he looks away, hands clenched.  “I still say this is a waste of time and electricity.” He snips, arms coming up to cross over his chest. Blue rolls his eyes.

“Would you like the orange juice, or apple?” Blue asks, holding out the cups in his hands. Edge refuses to look at him as he snatches the apple juice from him. Doomfanger rubs her head into his shirt and he lets a hand down to pet her coat.

“i think boss ha’ next selection, right?” Red says from the couch. Blue nods.

“Yeah, he does!” He says, turning back to the gruff skeleton. “Which one was yours again?”

“Midnight Blaze Racer Four,” He mutters, squirming in his seat.

“Aw, but we haven’t seen the first three??” Papyrus says, sounding just a tad disappointed. “How will we be able to follow the plot?”

“heh... yeah… ‘plot’...” Sans says from his spot on the couch, physically drawing the air quotes with his fingers. Edge turns, throwing a bit of popcorn back at Sans, bouncing off his head with a satisfying thunk . Sans chuckles.

“You will be able to pick up on main story,” Edge assures Papyrus. “Besides, this is the fourth installment, but it actually takes place before the first movie but just a bit after the third-and-a-half, which was a prequel telling the story how Blaze’s mother ended up going from a rich girl from southern california to wanted intergalactic crime fighter.” He is already loading up the DVD and skipping through the commercials for ‘soon-to-be-released’ movies that came out almost a decade ago. “But you don’t need to know any of that because when this movie came out the plot for the next hadn’t even been written yet. This is just the best movie in the franchize, so we are skipping all the garbage that came out with the extension and sticking to the original cannon.”

“...Well now I’m even more confused than when we started!!”

“shhh, just watch the movie bro.”

Blue ends up spending this move squished between Sans and Red, the two of them falling in and out of naps as the spectacle on the tiny screen plays out before them. Honestly, Blue has no idea what is going on, and he has a sneaking feeling that even if he’d seen all the previous movies he would still be lost. This time the movies takes about twice as long as it’s runtime due to Edge pausing it at random intervals to explain some plotpoint from another movie in the franchise, then again seconds later to answer follow up questions posed by a very befuddled Papyrus.

By the time that movie ends the group is very much ready for Papyrus’ much simpler, logical movie about an orphan bit by a genetically engineered snake, gaining the power of super speed and strength and chooses to fight the forces of evil. It doesn’t have to make sense in the real world - it just has to flow logically on its own. Which it does, somewhat. At times…

Papyrus is on the edge of his seat the entire time, and even Blue gets excited, cheering along Snake Lad as he takes on Sir Mongoose and saves Lady Lana, warrior super spy princess, from his evil clutches. Sans seems to get his enjoyment from the flick by pointing out every time the movie tries to do science and exactly why it is wrong, while Red just makes lousy puns on just about everyone and everything there. Edge pretends to ignore it, claiming the effects are too cheesy for him to get involved - but every once in awhile Blue thinks he sees genuine enjoyment on Edge’s face.

Finally it is Blue’s turn! Sans only had a single mystery movie that Blue hasn’t gotten to see yet; it’s an old one in black-and-white. It has a very unique pacing and tone to it, something that Blue can appreciate. Sans and Blue keep a long discussion going on about film techniques and cinematography. Papyrus and Edge seem bored, while Red straight up falls asleep during the first act, though the action scenes at least get some response out of the others.

During the final confrontation where the murderer is revealed Blue notices something. He steps forward, pressing pause on the player and he listens.

“Do you guys hear that?” He asks, quickly getting the attention of the other occupants of the room. They all sit up, listening closely for any sign of disturbance, sharing a look of mild fear.

“Hear what, Blue-Sans?” Papyrus asks with a frown. “I don’t hear anything…”

Sans’ eyes widen as he practically throws himself off the couch, bare bones clacking against the floor as he prances over to the window. He stands on his toes to look out. “...they’re gone……” he mutters, almost too quiet for anyone to hear. Edge and Papyrus share a look of disbelief as Blue smiles.

“See? The storm is over now, and you guys didn’t even notice!” Blue chirps. The others look between each other, seeming blown away by the fact that they could have forgotten about their current situation. Blue rolls his eyes, ejecting the DVD before going to the cabinet to select a new one.

“what’s up kiddo - movie borin’ ya?” Sans asks, going back to lay out on the couch.

“It’s getting late, and I wanna see Red’s movie before we go to bed!” Blue announces, pulling out the DVD Red had anted in. The skeleton chuckles from the couch.

“aw, yer sweet, kid,” Red says, setting his head on his hands.

Edge stands as the movie loads up, taking the empty bowls of popcorn back into the kitchen. Blue frowns, watching his friend leave the room with a deep heaviness in his soul. “...Are you not going to watch the movie with us?” Blue asks, downtrodden.

“No,” Edge replies, scrubbing the bowls harshly with a dry sponge. He growls softly as Blue watches, scrubbing with extra gusto. Blue would like to think that it is just because he is trying to get off the extra butter… but... Blue glances back at Red, looking apologetic. The bags under Red’s eyes seem deeper than normal as he waves a hand.

“don’ sweat it, kid,” He says, a hint of something deeply troubling in his voice. “boss is… complicated…” He leans back into the couch, arms folded over his chest. “let’s just watch the flick…“

Blue isn’t entirely satisfied with that resolution; nevertheless he slots the dvd into the player and presses play, sinking back into relaxation as the cheerful sound of violin music fills the room. Almost as soon as the actual movie starts Edge seems to be satisfied with the dishes, immediately climbing the ladder to his bunk and flinging shut the curtain with a loud grumble. Sans and Papyrus relax some, politely asking that they unfold their bed so that they too can lay down. By now it’s pretty late, after all; they spent the entire day watching movies.

Blue starts to feel sleepy as well, rubbing his eye as the movie splashes bright colors against the dark walls. He moves closer to the DVD player on the table, setting him and Red up at the foot of the brother’s bed. He curls up in the comforter with Red, rubbing his eyes.

“heh, kiddo… ya should probably get t’ sleep yerself,” Sans says from utop the bed, propped up on a pillow. “ya look bone tired.” He chuckles. Papyrus grumbles in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like ‘overused joke’.

“I wanna stay up with Red, though,” Blue says, flighting back a yawn. His head bobs without him meaning too, floating town to rest on his hands. “Everyone else got to watch their movie with friends…”

“heh, i think red’s already asleep kiddo…” Sans says from utop the bed. Blue blinks, looking back to his friend lying next to him. Sure enough, soft snores come from the snoozing skeleton. Blue chuckles, curling up in the blankets.

“What a lazy bones...” He mutters sleepily, petting Red’s skull. A soft purr builds in the other’s throat as he nuzzles into the touch. Blue is tempted to just sleep here on the ground; but that would just be too lazy for his tastes. Slowly he rises to his feet, nudging Red awake as he bundles up their covers. He turns off the DVD player and ejects the disk, making sure that all of the DVDs make it back to the correct case and spot in the cabinet before heading off towards his bedroom.

“Goodnight Sans!” Blue says, following the sleepy Red into the bedroom. “Goodnight, Papyrus…”

“Goodnight!”

“g’night, kiddo…” Just before Blue can shut the door Sans continues. “hey, uh… blue?”

Blue pauses, looking back out into the room. It is dark, the only light coming from the everpresent glow of the outside lamps. Sans’ silhouette would look ominous in any other context, but to Blue it is relieving. Sans’ posture is relaxed, slouched against the back of the couch-bed. Blue can practically hear the other’s calm soul-beat from here.

“i wanned t’ thank ya,” Sans says, contentedness filling the air. “fer t’night…“

Blue feels his cheeks warm, his soul aching in a way he can’t quite place. The smile on his face can’t be seen in the dim light of the RV, but Blue has a sneaking suspicion that Sans knows it’s there.

“Mweh… no problem, Friend! I’m glad everyone had fun...” Blue says quietly, slipping into the room. “Goodnight.”

#my writing #undertale #zombie apocolypse au #fanfiction #underswap #underfell #movie night #fluff #angst

[aerialflight]

Okay, one idea I really want is the Straw Hats ending up in the Rise of the Guardians world and they all end up as spirits.

They’re all confused how they end up here, and who knows how long they’re around to influence things, but the very idea of them just existing in that kind of way is hilarious to think about.

Robin (Egypt) – sphynx, a speaker of truth yet is a mystery, talking in riddles and takes great fun in confusing people. Loves knowledge and loves people who loves it too. Shares knowledge to people if she could, loves books. Since there are so many different versions of sphynxes in different cultures and countries, she can pop up in those countries anytime she wants, haha. She never shares how she does it when most spirits can’t, and loves frustrating people by giving them cryptic answers if asked.

Usopp (Africa) – African storyteller like in the stories, tall tales, has a tendency to travel, which is unusual for his kind who is emphatic on tradition. He explores and searches for his crew actively, and on the way, collects stories as he does. Him and Robin actually are the ones who travel around the most (exempting Luffy, who none of the Straw Hats can find cause he can’t stand fucking still damn it Luffy) and keeps everyone updated on each other. Headcanon of mine is that he inspired and helped write the Anderson Fairy tales, LOL.

Zoro (Japan) – a ‘wandering samurai’. In the legends, ghosts of samurais wander in search of a purpose. Hilariously for Zoro, he does it cause he’s genuinely fucking lost, which Sanji finds incredibly amusing.

Nami (Irish) – an Irish witch, which also is hilarious. She mostly ends up in bars or inns, tricking other spirits to pay ludicrous prices or favors when they want gossip or info from her. She and Robin are kind of opposites of each other, with Robin always speaking the truth, yet twists and riddles it out so people would have to be clever enough to solve it themselves. Nami, on the other hand, just lies all the time and people would have to be clever enough to know when she is. However, she never breaks promises or deals. And she’s always lenient to children.

Chopper (Canada) – Bigfoot, which explains A LOT. Though, there are multiple Bigfoots, so he’s just one of the many. Instead, he is a DOCTOR BIGFOOT, which is even weirder and funnier. He’s like, basically that friendly monster you find in a forest that people warn off and is just misunderstood, haha. Whenever children get lost, he leads them back home and heals them if they’re injured.

Franky (American) – He’s an engineer, he embodies inventing and creating. He’s also a fixer upper and an inventor all at once. He inspires people to create new things and is so enthusiastic about all these new immigrants who come into the mixing pot. New ideas in the air! He’s ecstatic about the industrial times and its growth, but absolutely hates the conditions of the people, and rages against people who claim it was ‘progress.’ Bring in the new, sure that’s great. But to kick people down while doing so boils his blood. He and Luffy interact a lot cause America is A Hot Mess of everything, hahaha.

Brook (Austria) – He’s a fucking ghost. A genuine fucking ghost who haunts Austria’s castles and at night, people can hear a violin playing and rowdy songs that don’t fit the setting at all. People see a skeleton at the corner of their eye with a ridiculous afro prancing around the grounds and it’s really freaky. He gossips with other ghosts of old monarchs (I’m headcanoning people with strong influence over the country or has strong personalities end up lingering for a while) and Usopp visits from time to time.

Sanji (France) – he’s a Sea Cook. Kind of a minor sea god who helps sailors sail safely, makes sure to guide them to areas with lots of fish if they get hungry, and spends most of his time in the ships’ kitchens yelling at cooks to add citrus food, nonono what are you doing with that potato you’re skinning it wrong. What about the nutrients?! So basically this grumpy, neatly suited man swearing up a storm and fruitlessly kicking people’s heads when they’re acting like idiots and hovering around like a mother hen. Also, he is absolutely enraged at the old belief that having a woman onboard is bad luck. Fuck you idiots who have no manners do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen a woman? Stop fucking ruining this for me!

Luffy (Brazil) – He’s Freedom. Like, that’s it. If the Guardians of Childhood had been looking, they would’ve thought he would be PERFECT for the job, but the Man in the Moon is really, really amused by Luffy’s existence and leaves him be to his own devices. He’s too big even in this world, and he just ends up in countries that need people to rise up, to fight back. He’s in revolutions, protests, wars, cheering people on and fighting with them. He bolsters their strength, makes them laugh in hard times, make them invincible against things that are huge and indomitable looking. He’s just, unchangeable. No matter how bad it is, he keeps smiling.

And just, imagine everyone reacting to them? Like, Ombric meeting Robin and them talking about books and both enthusiastically sharing knowledge with each other, and Robin being all secretive the whole time.

“I want nothing but the truth.” The woman’s voice rang in the room, forthright and honest. With her masks stripped along with her sly words and subtle smiles, she looked powerful. A hungry girl who saw the world in shades of grey, hanging in the backdrop and always watching, observing, waiting.

There’s a finality to her voice, the verdict set with nothing stopping her path. This is her last ditch effort to get him to talk, a method that revealed her heart, her core.

The dark skin, mystery surrounding her like a cloak, clever words with clever answers. A familiar nose that he swore he’s seen missing from great wonders-

“You’re a sphinx!” Ombric exclaimed, shocked.

She laughed, the sound reverberating the room and just as warm as her natural climate.

“I am.” She conceded with a small smile. “I have to be something to people after all.”

Japan is an island, so Sanji ends up visiting Zoro a lot since even though the mosshead has no fucking idea from left to right, always is able to find a shoreline somehow and they constantly butt heads whenever they do.

“Feeding people your shit food? I feel sorry for them.”

“Shut up! At least I’m not called the ‘Wandering Samurai.’ Wandering my ass. More like ‘lost shitface who doesn’t know North from up.’”

“Yeah? And why do people call you Sea Cook? Should’ve been ‘swirlybrow bastard’ or ‘lovesick idiot.’”

Or Chopper the friendly Bigfoot helping lost children, sometimes in his small form to calm them down, and big when he needs to protect them from other predators or monsters. Usopp basically being their network, able to travel around the most and spread the Straw Hats adventures to others, or make up stories of his own. Luffy and Franky adventuring around America cause seriously, there’s so much weird shit going on there.

Nami abso-fucking-lutely delighted that there are maps, there are better tools, better ways to man the sea. And despite what mortals think in this world, the sea is still pretty exciting here though not as much as their old world. What withe the loch ness monster, atlantis, mermaids (Sanji was fucking delighted), and more. Sanji probably knows the sea better than any of them now.

“… Has Usopp found the others yet?”

“Yeah, the haggling witch is screwing people over back in Ireland as usual. And last I saw, Franky was ready to kill this guy building a train or something.”

“I met Chopper.” It had been difficult for the giant spirit to come near the ocean. His place was more inland. Sanji grimaced around his cigarette that looked nothing like what existed during this current time period. It was a mystery where he got his neverending supply, though he thanked every day for it. “He’s helping some kids out. Turns out people are the same no matter where we are.”

Yeah, I would really love to see someone write this.

#rise of the guardians #one piece #straw hats #crossover #fic idea #headcanon #god i want to read this #Fanfiction #aerial headcanons

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #1

This is the Biweekly version of Cerebus because I do not have access to what you humans call "money."

When I first encountered Cerebus, I must have been twelve or thirteen years old. It was probably 1984, possibly 1985. I had just purchased the Elfquest Role Playing Game and my mom was driving us home as I eagerly dove into it. I had only been reading Elfquest via the collected color editions even though a kid in my 6th grade class had mentioned to me that the series came out in black and white issues every few months. I probably didn't really believe him at the time because I rarely believed anything anybody told me if I didn't already know it. How I learned anything at all, I'll never know. Unless maybe I haven't learned anything? Anyway, as I perused the gaming book, I noticed a picture of Rayek speaking with Ekuar. What the hell? Rayek was dead, wasn't he?! What is this? Suddenly there were pictures of other elves I didn't recognize, elves in furs riding elk. "Oh my God! Those are the elves at the end of Elfquest Book Three!" I somehow didn't say out loud, completely boring my mother with my passion for all things elves. I was seeing spoilers! I shut the book, turned to my mother, and said, "We have to go to a comic book shop!" I don't remember if I already knew about Brian's Books on Calabazas Boulevard or if we looked it up in a phone book. I feel like we immediately went there because we were on El Camino already. Just trust me about the geography; it all works out! I could go into deeper details but I'm no Alan Moore or James Joyce. I'm not going to write a book that describes my hometown so well that any casual reader could suddenly find their way around the place. Brian's Books was my first real comic book shop. I had been reading other comic books picked up, half bent over, from the racks at the local 7-Eleven. But learning about Brian's Books changed that. Never again would I own a creased comic book! I went there to pick up the single issues of Elfquest that Dan assured me existed. One full shelf at Brian's Books was dedicated to Elfquest. He had copies (mostly reprints, probably) of many of the nearly twenty issues (I don't think the entire story had been completed at the time. But it was close!). Directly across the aisle from the Elfquest books was a number of shelves full of a comic book with a funny looking aardvark wearing a helmet and wielding a sword. I was instantly intrigued. But I never picked it up. At the time, I had a weird thing about adults knowing I was reading things that were kind of adult. I guess I was embarrassed for some reason. Maybe I thought I'd get teased. It was like that with Piers Anthony's Incarnation of Immortality series. I felt odd picking that up, as if I were trying to get away with being cheeky or naughty. Cerebus looked adult in that way that would embarrass me if my mom saw me buying it. So I didn't pick it up. Also, it was well into its 60th, 70th, or 80th issue (I don't remember exactly but it was pretty high up there already. I suppose it was being published for about 8 years by then with a year or two of those being bimonthly? So maybe around 80 or 90?). To me, all comic books were one continuous story. It was inconceivable to begin reading that far into the story. Not that I would have tried anyway; did you see that cover with that buxom woman in the chain mail bikini?! My mom would definitely ask me embarrassing questions! Several years later, at a different comic book shop in Saratoga (possibly one of the ones I was picking up Magic the Gathering cards at), I saw Swords of Cerebus. It was Cerebus but collected in one book and starting at the beginning! And I had stopped caring what mother thought about what I was reading! I believe I purchased the first three Swords of Cerebus collections and fell in love with it. It was hilarious and fun and it was spoofing Conan, books which I had been reading without fear of embarrassment for years. Probably because the covers had skeletons and fighting on the cover and not Conan ravishing topless women. Begin Digression: I got into He-Man and the Masters of the Universe because I saw a Skeletor figure in the toy department at Mervyn's with my grandmother. It reminded me of the cover of one of the Conan books I'd been reading at the time.

I wanted to say it was Conan of Cimmeria but then I looked it up online and discovered this was the cover of the version I read. Not the one that reminded me of Skeletor!

It's possible Skeletor just reminded me of a scene in Conan of Cimmeria with a skeleton on a throne that maybe he had to battle. Or it was just another of the books. Anyway, I begged her to buy Skeletor for me and she did and I played with just Skeletor for I don't know how long. This was before the cartoon even existed. Believe it or not, the figures did come first! End Digression. Not long after I purchased those Cerebus books, I discovered the huge Cerebus phone books. I don't know exactly when Dave Sim began publishing those but I believe a few were already available when I discovered them. I just happened to stumble upon his initial try at compiling his stories (Swords of Cerebus) first. At that point, it was over. I bought all that I could find and finally began reading the Cerebus monthly issues. It was some point during the "Mothers & Daughters" saga. If I had begun at "Melmoth," I'm not sure I would have continued with it! But will get to that eventually! For now, let's remember how the whole thing began.

One dollar. Can you believe it?!

This is Cerebus before he loses his helmet, his necklace, and 2/3 of his nose. You know how people sometimes have some major body changes or their heads kind of reshape as they age? I figure this is late teenage Cerebus who matures across the next twenty or so issues until he finally assumes his adult form. That's the in-continuity reason for his appearance change. I know the real reason is that Dave Sim refined his style while gaining valuable experience and practice over time. I don't remember when it happens but at some point Cerebus goes from looking like a slightly amateurish independent comic book to a gorgeous, expressive, Gerhard-backgrounded beauty of a book. Elfquest didn't go through nearly the same dramatic difference in its twenty issues. I guess when you've got three hundred issues to write, you have to get started before you're really ready. Unlike Wendy Pini who was all, "I only have to do twenty of these?! Let me get in some practice first! I don't want Cutter looking like a completely different character a third of the way through the story!" I'm not saying there aren't obvious aesthetic differences between the elves in Issue #1 and the elves in Issue #20! I'm just saying those differences are way less dramatic! The original Issue #1 came out at the end of 1977. I think these first issues were published every other month. According to a note from Sim's wife at the time, Deni Loubert, Cerebus came about as a logo for Aardvark-Vanaheim Press. And it was meant to be Cerberus but she spelled it wrong and also I guess Dave Sim couldn't draw a three-headed dog so he drew an Earth pig. I don't know. I'm doing a synopsis of the "Note from the Publisher" on the inside front cover which is just about as long as my synopsis and totally different. Because I have a habit of explaining things poorly, partially because I'm dumb and even more partially because I think it's funny. If you want the truth, get off the Internet and go fucking meditate. This biweekly issue also includes the introductory essay to the first Swords of Cerebus compilation written in 1981. Dave Sim also explains the origins of Cerebus, more accurately than I did although nowhere near as succinctly.

You don't have to read all that. I just wanted to show you how much Dave Sim had to write to get across the same idea that his then wife took a few small paragraphs to say. This theme will reappear later (much later, thankfully. I'll have my work cut out for me then).

As you can see by having not read that previous essay, Dave also explains his process. If you're interested, go ahead and maximize your browser so you can read the essay. If you're not interested, I won't bore you with another shitty synopsis. The issue begins with a narrator explaining Cerebus's arrival on the scene. Not an omniscient narrator. It's the voice of just some jerk in the city who was all, "That weird little guy who arrived at dawn? He'd be remembered as the finest warrior even though he was short and deformed." I like to believe that the person telling the story is Techot Thal, the guy who gets his hand cut off by Cerebus on the next page (the narrator talks about Techot in the third person but Cerebus does that with himself as well, so why can't Techot be telling the tale?). He probably begs for gold crowns outside of the local tavern and when somebody asks him about his hand, he begins the story of Cerebus. He probably tells all three hundred issues of the story. Unless he's telling it to a woman and then she walks off disgusted around Issue #186.

The first page tells the potential buyer everything they need to know about the comic book they're about to read: whimsical with pretty accurate depictions of horses.

Cerebus has come to town to do a Conan parody. Remember the part of the first Conan movie where they raid the tower and kill a giant serpent and steal a jewel or something? That's pretty much the plot of this issue. I'm not saying Oliver Stone and John Milius stole the story from Cerebus! It was just easier to say, "Hey, remember that scene in that movie that came out after this comic book?" I figure more people will identify with that than if I'd said, "Remember that Conan story by Robert E. Howard that you probably read when you were a twelve year old nerd who couldn't find anybody to play Dungeons & Dragons with them? Oh wait. I bet a lot of you would have identified with that too! I shouldn't be so quick to assume shit. Cerebus teams up with some thieves to raid a wizard's tower to steal the Flame Jewel. They've got it all planned but Cerebus is less a patient strategist and more a Leroy Jenkins kind of aardvark. He rushes into the tower heedlessly. Maybe his plan is to get his comrades killed so there's more Flame Jewel for Cerebus.

Do we ever find out who Clovis is and how many body parts he has?

Cerebus and his comrades are attacked by a shadow monster on their way into the tower. It's the first real example of Cerebus's skill with a sword as he defeats the monster. But it also shows that he's not overly powerful, and that he just barely wins the battle. He is vulnerable but strong willed and skillful! There remains doubt as to whether Cerebus can succeed at this mission! Also, it's just the first issue. It's not like the reader knew the story was going to go for 300 issues yet. It was possible, picking this strange new comic up off the shelf, Dave Sim would have realized how much work it was by the end of it and just let Cerebus die on the last page.

The wizard gets the first mention of Tarim (also his incantation earlier mentions "Terim" (which might be important later?)).

As of now, you'd think Cerebus worshiped somebody named Clovis and the humans worshiped somebody named Tarim. But we'll see later that Cerebus is into Tarim too. And maybe Clovis is just some hero myth of the barbarians? Next, Cerebus is attacked by an animated skeleton! They fight in a pitch back corridor because Dave Sim had yet to partner with Gerhard and drawing backgrounds is probably boring and/or time consuming. After defeating the skeleton and a ceiling of hallucinogenic petunias dropped on them, Cerebus's companions suggest they flee the tower. But Cerebus forces them to go on, seeing as they promised him a pouch of gold for helping them get the Flame Jewel. What a shrewd negotiator! Even if the Flame Jewel winds up being a cheap knock-off or legend (which it totally will be!), Cerebus still gets paid! Eventually, Cerebus encounters the wizard and his pet dragon (which I misremembered as a giant snake. Eh, it's similar enough to the Conan story!). Cerebus realizes the dragon is an illusion and closes his eyes as he approaches the wizard. He's all, "I'm just going to keep walking forward swinging my sword like this and if some dumb wizard just happens to get in my way, it's not my fault if he loses his spleen!" Cerebus, ignoring the beast so that the beast must ignore him, marches up to the wizard and kills him. He sure does understand magic! The thieves pay Cerebus after which Cerebus is all, "You guys should check out the Flame Jewel now! And also remember this old aardvark saying, 'No takesies backsies.'"

Ho ho! What a twist! What a wise aardvarkian warrior! What a realistic looking horse!

Cerebus rides off into the sunset leaving the thieves to declare their hatred for aardvarks. Because even thieves in fantasy novels only consider white men as individuals. Everybody else simply represents their entire race. Unless they do something kind or good or smart. That's when they declare them an anomaly. At the end of the issue are the "Aardvark Comments," the letters pages. I will be reading and discussing these to some degree since so much of the controversy that Dave Sim eventually had to deal with began life in this section. But that's a topic for another time, something like 185 issues from now. Here's another bit at the end of the Biweekly edition of Cerebus: The Single Page.

Another reason to love Dave Sim's independent spirit and artistic ethos.

Dave Sim had no need to put other people's work in the back of the Cerebus Biweekly to fill space or to sell issues. He did it simply to support other independent artists. How many mainstream companies would simply use this as an excuse to get people to send them free art just so they could see it in print? Sim is offering artists $150.00 for their efforts. Seems like a pretty generous offer for what basically amounts to exposure. In his later years, he might let his perception of reality as a conflict between men and women ultimately shape his spirituality and the way he read The Bible and The Quran (I mean, the scripture depicts two voices of God, a bad female one and a good male one? Come on, Dave! Hoo boy!) but he was always true to his independent publishing beliefs. Cerebus #1 Rating: B. A solid B effort here at the outset. I can't begin by giving this issue an A knowing how fucking terrific this thing gets not too far down the line. Besides, it doesn't deserve more than a solid B. The art tells the story of a better than amateur but not quite yet nailing it artist developing his style. The story isn't much more than a Conan fanfic rip with a talking animal shoved into the lead. It's got a few moments where the wit really shines and you can see shadows of Sim's really clever writing. And I don't mean to suggest the art is in any way bad; he's got some terrific panels and creatures in this thing. It's just it gets so much better! And the lettering! Come on! I never comment on letterers but Sim, having complete control of his story telling, knows exactly how to visualize the dialogue and sound effects. This isn't the kind of comic book where you think, "I have to read #2!" Mostly because it's a complete story in itself. But it is the type that will make you remember it when you see #2 on the shelf causing you to automatically pick it up.

#Cerebus #Dave Sim