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dragoneyes618 · 3 years

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Ben didn't have official days off, but every so often he (and his mother) made himself ignore any pileups of work that may have been looming and relax. King of Auradon he may be, but he was also a teenage boy, and everyone needed some down time once in a while.

So now he was sitting in an armchair in one of the small, private sitting rooms that Belle referred to as her "hideaways." It was a small room, with comfortable chairs, beautiful curtains, and hanging lamps. And, of course, piles of books.

His mother was in her own chair across from him, reading. As he was himself. As even his father was, sitting near the door.

His mother was right, Ben mused. There was nothing quite like a good book.

Someone coughed.

Ben looked up.

A woman was standing by the doorway.

That in itself wasn't so unusual. There were many people who lived and worked in Beast Castle, after all, although this room was off-limits. But it wouldn't be the first time someone had snuck in, usually to read one of the books. Belle never punished anyone who did that-in fact, she always gave the perpetrator as many books as he or she wanted.

Ben vaguely recognized the woman as one of the new servants. He didn't know her name, though. He felt bad about that. He always did his best to know the names of all the workers in the castle. Their literal job was looking after his family; the least he could do in return was call them by their names. This woman, however, tended to avoid people, and so he hadn't learned her name yet.

She was elderly, with a lined face and hair that was almost completely white, with just a single strand of black running through it, tied up in a bun. She looked as though she could use a cane, although she wasn't leaning on one at the moment. She wore an old-fashioned dress, all black but with white lace.

Also, she was holding a pistol in her right hand. That was definitely unusual.

It too looked old-fashioned-the kind of pistol that had exactly six bullets, that you needed to manually reload and put in gunpowder each time you used that, that wouldn't work if it got wet, and that had an even chance of exploding when you fired.

Still, a gun was a gun. And she would only need three bullets to kill all of them, if she was so inclined.

"You-" the Beast sputtered. "How-Guards!"

Nothing happened.

"I'm afraid your guards are somewhat indisposed," the woman said, training her gun on the Beast. "They won't be coming to help you anytime soon."

"You didn't..." Belle whispered. Ben swallowed nervously; but they would have heard gunshots, right?

"Oh, they're all right," the woman said. "They're just a bit...tied up at the moment." She laughed. "I didn't do it myself, of course; my family still does have allies, you know. Even now."

"What do you want?" Ben asked.

Both his parents moved toward him, as though to shield him; but he was king. Surely dealing with dangerous assassins was his job?

The woman focused on him. Her face was lined not just with age, Ben realized, but with grief and stress. Her black eyes seemed to scorch into him.

"The boy king," she said musingly. "The one who overturned a generation of wrongs-or tried to, at least. Too late for most. But, as some say, better late than never." She sounded sarcastic.

"No one pays attention to the servants, do they?" she mused. "No one wondered who I was, or where I had come from. It was ridiculously easy getting a job here. I suppose you've gotten complacent, with all the villains on the Isle?" she sneered.

She looked at Ben. "What do I want? I want to have my say."

"Then-speak," Belle said. The longer this strange woman kept talking, the more time there would be for someone to find them, or discover the guards.

The intruder nodded at the Queen Mother. "My name is Madeline. Madeline de Vil. But you probably know me as Malevola."

Malevola de Vil.

"So you have heard of me," Malevola said with a wicked smile. "What do they say about me? That I was one of the greatest fashion designers of the last century? That I was the best owner of the House of De Vil in three generations? That I was a respected member of society? That I would do anything for my family?"

Her face darkened. "Or do they say that I, like all those bearing the de Vil name, are cursed? That I care more for fur than my family? That I am frightening, mad, evil, just like my daughter?"

Ben found his voice. "Cruella de Vil."

Malevola glared at him. "Don't call her that."

"But-that's her name."

"No, it is not," Malevola said, quietly, menacingly. The hand holding the pistol remained steady. "Do you really think that I would give my own daughter a name like Cruella?" She shook her head in disgust. "No. What runs in the de Vil family, particularly with the females, is that people-and by people I mean the general public, people who don't even know us-they give us nicknames.

"Not friendly, endearing nicknames. Perhaps nicknames isn't the right word. I don't know. I was ten when people started calling me Malevola. Ella was twelve when they called her Cruella. My own mother, her name was Dinitia, but do you know what people called her?" Malevola sneered, but in that sneer was anger and hurt at lifetimes-not just her, but many members of her own family-of mockingly being called the wrong name. Perhaps parody was the word she was looking for. Or travesty. "They called her Dementia. You think my daughter is cruel? At least she calls others by their proper names."

"They fear us, you see," Malevola went on. "And they scorn us. So they either name us to fit their beliefs about us, or they mock us, so that they can pretend we don't frighten them."

"I'm sorry," Belle started.

Malevola whirled on her. "You think I have finished?! I have barely even started!"

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she continued. "You have done me, and many people, a great wrong." She sounded like she was trying to be formal, like she'd rehearsed this in her mind.

"What have we done?" the Beast asked.

And just like that, her composure was gone.

"What have you done?" she hissed, her knuckles white, her eyes wide. "What have you done? You take my children from me, and you ask what you have done?"

She laughed bitterly. "The enchantress who cursed you was right. You are a beast inside and out."

The Beast paled; that was his worst fear.

"First, you took my Ella," Malevola went on. "You took her, and you locked her up, and you said she was a danger and a menace to society and that we should be glad you were taking her away. "For stealing dogs." Her voice shook. "Even young Anita said that the punishment didn't fit the crime. But no, you take her, you do not help her, and you send her away to an island full of murderers."

"She's a villain," the Beast tried to reason.

That was the wrong thing to say.

"She is my daughter!" Malevola screamed.

Ben suddenly understood why people feared the de Vil family. Malevola truly looked like her family's surname.

"And my son, Cecil, came to you," Malevola continued. Her voice was dangerously calm now. "And he begged you, lowering himself, a bearer of the de Vil name, for you. He asked you to help her, to be kind to her, to do something else-anything else-but you refused. "Tell me, Beast, what is the line between villainy and insanity?"

The Beast did not answer.

"And with no other option left," Malevola continued, "my Cecil volunteered to go to your cursed Isle, to be with Ella, to help her, because he could not leave his sister alone. You agreed to that. And you sent both of my children to the Isle."

"Did you plan," Malevola wondered, "for there to be no communication from the Isle at all? Did you want us all to forget about them, to pretend the villains never existed?

"I had no letters. My own were returned, marked Return to Sender. There were no phone calls. Nothing. The de Vil family has much influence, but I could do nothing.

"Do you know what it is like, not to know if your own children are alive or dead? I would not wish that on my worst enemy."

She locked eyes with the Beast. "Twenty years I have waited for word of my children. For twenty years I have not known if they live, or if they were killed within days of arriving on the Isle. And now your son brings my grandson over..."

She sighed. "He looks like Ella. Cecil, too. He has the de Vil hair. All the de Vils, we look like each other. It is yet another reason people find us strange. But my grandson, he is frightened of me. We never knew each other. You took that from me, too. He fears I am too much like Ella, for he tells me that Ella has deteriorated..."

She could have been a hundred years old.

The Beast stepped forward. "If you are here to punish me, then-do so." Belle gasped, but he continued. "Do not make my wife and son pay for my crimes."

"You are brave," Malevola conceded. She looked almost surprised. "But no."

She looked at Ben. "I do thank you, you know. You brought my grandson off the Isle, and he brought me news of my family."

She looked back at the Beast, meeting his eyes directly. She did not speak for a long moment.

"You misunderstand me," Malevola–Madeline–said finally. "I am not here to kill you. I am here only to cause you the same pain you have caused me."

Moving swiftly, she turned, pointed the gun straight at Ben, and fired.

#descendants #the isle of the lost #carlos de vil #cecil b. de vil #cecil de vil #malevola de vil #madeline de vil #madeline malevola de vil #cruella de vil #king ben #ben descendants #king beast #belle #benjamin florian

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arcstral · 3 years

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𝑫𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. ( i - v )

As of late, there is his fixation with mirrors.

Wise and motherly Elice. Tragic, dead Elice. He peers at himself and some calming likeness of his older sister is reflected back. They’re distinct enough when he presses himself to remember, through the thick wet blanket of the Darksphere’s muddle that has fallen so heavily over his head. The airs of male gallantry and female chastity that even two remarkably similar sibling faces could convey apart from one another.

Merric had fancied his sister. If Elice had been so sure a beauty to her futile suitors, to the maidens Marth must have seemed as their chimeric princes of song come to life. Not that any of it mattered now.

An unbreakable sense of justice and blinding white smile. Chivalrous ideals and warm receptions of love both given and received.

He is not that sort of prince anymore. Not really.

Elice would be disappointed.

He dare not think of the other great loss of his life that would feel the same.

ii.

The widower king, the people have now taken to calling him. The Hero-King who went mad for grief. Where they speak fearfully of Dark Emperor Hardin’s brutality, they whisper instead of Marth’s tragedy. The pity that has become his once shimmering existence. Where Hardin had fashioned the globe into his bloody plaything of conquest and vengeance, Marth wanted little to do with it and simply cared no longer for the things he once did.

Tax reports and revenue projections, restoration projects, bandit plagues, and official government memorandum that had once topped the list of the diligent monarch’s priorities now hung freely at the bottom. As few truly important documents were signed off with a whimsy hand, many more were delegated to the waste-fires.

His is an illusion of productivity and the world suffers for his indolence, even if his Altean vassals in particular do not believe it at first.

‘His Majesty is suffering, he will return to his senses after his grief has abated.’

‘It is the weight of Archanea upon his shoulders that has turned him to this.’

‘Have pity. He is an overworked candle that has melted on both his ends.’

They do not know the full truth of it.

Marth merely does as he pleases, as he has never done before.

???.

His recent decrees have flooded his rooms of authority with a new wave of silence. The tensity in the council room is broken only by the occasional ugly hacks emitted by Arran who tries without success to stifle his sounds. Each one shatters the very air like a crystal glass lopped against the floor.

As this unstoppable effusion of water in sorry old Arran’s lungs, there is a sickness breeding within the young king as well. He trades his brooding for a flurry of many radical new statutes. Criminal offenses of all nature and all possible standing are deemed punishable by death. Manaketes and convicts seen treading within a few miles’ radius of the Pales capital will be shot down. Families who cannot pay the entire extent of their taxations are made to do so with their lives. So on.

Where the prince he was had advocated justice and equality, the king he is was a gravely twisted version of those ideals.

He rolls around the Darksphere in the palm of his hand, feeling for its sweet seductions. Like Hardin, Marth alone indulges the impression that he has never changed.

iii.

Eventually, Marth commands the tombstone silence of his halls as well.

His knights have tasted his sweet light and now they fear the difference of his shadows. Jagen. Cain. Frey. Draug. Gordin. Ryan. Rody. Cecil. Astram. Midia. Defectors attempt to leave his court in droves until they learn he will not allow it done. Former friends become plague rats that he burns out to the loyal, unquestioning torch of Merric’s Bolganone or an Archaean firing squad.

They are traitors in the vein of Gra who have betrayed his kindness and his trust. Their deaths hold as little value to Marth as their lives in that regard, but replenishing his depleted ranks qualifies as both a nuisance and sizable difficulty.

He seeks out the conscription of old faces. Knights are more reliable in proportion to their training, but hired swords will care less for the muck of his deeds and more for the shine of his imperial gold. Radd accepts him on this useful ideal, then Caesar. Of Navarre, he curiously receives no word, and of Ogma there are a few, albeit the kind that leaves the fallen Hero-King with much to be desired.

“It is said that Sir Ogma was not the same after Princess Caeda’s passing, Your Majesty. Upon one night of disorderly drinking, he was tossed out of a Knorda tavern where he landed upon his face in a wet patch of bog beside the cesspits. There, he fell fast asleep, and–”

“I understand,” Marth finishes for the messenger suddenly, disturbed.

iv.

The crown chamber is exceptionally quiet, as it usually is with King Marth and the mysterious weight of his thoughts. The overhanging fear of his retribution that choked his few remaining followers upon their bold and progressive proposals for His Majesty to pray reconsider his seat upon the throne. For once in a long time, it echoes with the soft admission of his pain.

“If it was not the Darksphere that claimed my life, it would be the devil’s drink that bewitched Captain Ogma until his lungs could not tell mud from air. He and I are not truly so filled with differences.”

“Even so, the few differences to be had are not regrettable, my liege. Your Majesty is still alive.”

Marth looks to his shadow after a long moment. A fragile distance to his voice that marked the difference between the Darksphere’s diamond barrier and the glass man who stood behind it.

“Don’t be silly, Kris. He is with her and I am still here.”

Like a kernel of honesty buried within the rotting fruit, his words illuminate the grander scheme to his motives. His longing for the death that has so generously evaded him by God’s will only to take his sister and lover instead.

But with his face as a tortured statue, his most loyal knight offers no response.

No solution. No release.

Not yet.

An unexpected visit from Julian brings news that has already taken the rest of the continent by storm. Princess Minerva is raising an army in response to his crimes. The diplomat she has sent is not so much a proponent of politics or any particular nationality as he is of significant attachment to abbess Lena, a Macedonian. The fact means that he can navigate enemy territory with more delicacy than Minerva’s pegasus knights. She has indeed chosen well.

Marth has already drawn his notions for the visit and so he allows the man to speak for the enemy. Another traitor for another traitor—

“Before she raises the Archanean League’s standard.. She wishes to extend her offer of peaceful surrender to both His Highness and his loyalists. I believe there is still a fond remembrance by the princess of your meaningful friendships.”

Archanean League. Loyalists. His army is Archanea and he is its heart. The choice of semantics is insulting.

“I will think on Minerva’s offer,” Marth says at last to his former friend, an involuntary twitch of his dominant hand. Beside him, Merric stirs as if acutely aware of his moods. Kris stares with solid interest at a painted mosaic across the ground.

“You must be exhausted by your trip from Macedon.”

Just as any flower grateful for the sunlight, Julian blooms before he ever wilts. “I am, Your Majesty—”

“Good,” Marth interjects. “You will not need to make the journey home. I will send clear instruction to sister Lena so that she might collect your body within the fortnight.”

He will give Minerva her answer and he will use Julian to do it, for all the goddess of wisdom in her name and god of war in his. In spite of this hammer of injustice, Julian willfully does not scream as he’s dragged away. Split open by the headsman’s axe and carted off in twos to the castle gates before the morning brume has settled.

Sister Lena does.

Just as Marth expects, the Macedonian declaration of war follows mere days later.

#◜ ╰ ♕ ◦ › kingdom come ‹ WRITING. ◞#hie.......hee......... he...e....#lovelyz destiny vc: YOU ARE MY DESTINYYYY #sad inspo music + swapping brainworms with neffi and THIS is the Result #darksphere au has me by the throat #i fare thee well

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years

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For Personal Reasons

Also on AO3.

It shouldn't be so terrifying to take that next little step.

It isn't like it would be unwelcome, Carlos thinks, running a hand through his hair as he paces around his living room. He knows it won't be unwelcome. Hell, the whole damn town probably knows it won't be unwelcome. They're probably all wondering why he hasn't done it yet. If they realize he hasn't.

Carlos came to Night Vale for one reason and one reason only – that it defied all known laws of science. It seemed like a fascinating place to study. Other scientists might have been interested in the fame it brought them, the research grants, the prestige of attaching their name to a study of such a place. Carlos was, and still is, interested in none of that. It was his curiosity that brought him to Night Vale, the desire to know.

It is a different kind of desire that has kept him here.

Carlos made eye contact with a most singular man, within his first few hours of arriving in town, and that brief moment had knocked him for a loop. He fled, of course. Didn't bother asking his name, or how long he'd lived in town, or whether or not he had ever noticed these strange occurrences or flagrant disregard for the laws of nature. All of which would have been perfectly reasonable things for a scientist to ask. After all, his studies had to start somewhere, so why not with this man, with his warm eyes and his charming smile and his strong jaw?

The answer, of course, is because he terrified Carlos. Not that there was anything monstrous about him. He didn't have a fixed, glassy-eyed stare or overly-sharp teeth or wings or a suspiciously cheerful, optimistic personality. All of that was the ordinary kind of terrifying, and Carlos the scientist could deal with it, as he dealt with it in all the other citizens of Night Vale, simply by formulating theories and conducting studies and analyzing tests. No, this man terrified him for the simple reason that he stirred up wants, desires Carlos fought too long and too hard to keep hidden.

All his life, Carlos has understood that the way he feels about other men is shameful, a vile perversion to be kept behind closed doors. It's better now than when he was young, at least in some places, but Carlos has never lived in those places. The whispers, the damning accusations, swirl around him every time he lets his feelings go. So when he locked eyes with the man on the street and felt the instant connection, he panicked and scurried away and asked no questions. Not at first, anyway, although he managed to learn what he needed to know eventually.

Cecil Palmer, reporter and radio personality, the voice of the evening show at Night Vale Community Radio. He was beautiful to look at, and even more beautiful to listen to, with a voice like molasses, smooth and dark and flowing and sweet, but not too sweet, not cloying. And Carlos damn near dropped dead of a heart attack on the spot when he listened to the man's radio show for the first time, only to hear him rambling about Carlos.

Well, nobody ran him out of town, or tried to set fire to the radio station, so Carlos concluded, to his mild surprise, that nobody in Night Vale actually gave a damn that Cecil seemed to have a crush on another man. It definitely came as a shock to him.

When they did finally meet, finally exchange contact information, Carlos wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed that Cecil didn't reach out first. He always waited for Carlos to contact him first. Carlos always chickened out, though, and made the conversation about science – asking Cecil about strange phenomena, passing along new discoveries, getting him to spread the news to his listeners. Cecil never seemed upset when Carlos turned down the offer of getting more personal.

No matter how badly he's wanted to.

Carlos took to listening to Cecil's show on the daily. At first, he listened while he worked in his lab, but before long, he started using Cecil's opener as a signal that it was time to start winding down for the day, or at least take a break. He told himself it was good sense; the show starts at the same time every day, and it keeps him from losing track of time while wrapped up in an experiment. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that he can't concentrate properly while listening to Cecil's voice. It's certainly not that. And the fact that, when he does have to be out of the lab or working when Cecil's show starts, he records it to listen to later isn't anything to write home about either. Cecil is a good reporter, with his finger on the town's pulse. He doesn't editorialize – much – and always warns the listeners before he does. It's sensible for Carlos to want to be sure he gets Cecil's news reports, when he can. It's certainly not that he just likes hearing him.

He's learned a lot about the man over the past year, mostly from listening to the radio but also from their too-brief interactions. Cecil is smart, and funny, and kind. He's a real animal lover – he was never exactly a cat person, or so he avers, but the sight of him cooing over Khoshekh, the hovering cat in the Night Vale Community Radio Station's men's restroom, did funny things to Carlos's insides the first time he saw it, and his sheer delight when the cat produced a litter of kittens made Carlos smile so broadly it hurt. (Carlos would have adopted one of those kittens if he hadn't been allergic. He almost adopted one anyway, just for the excuse to go to the station and see Cecil, but again, he chickened out at the last minute.) He cares about his community, and the individuals in it...for the most part. His utter hatred of Steve Carlsburg is kind of amusing, actually, but for all that, Carlos politely avoids the man whenever he sees him. Cecil is – was – right about the so-called Apache Tracker, at least.

For all he's tried to keep his distance, there have been a few moments he almost broke. The sandstorm, for instance. Carlos remembers hunkering down in a well-protected area of the house he rented, listening to both the wind outside and the calm, soothing sound of Cecil's voice. He wasn't worried. He trusted Cecil when he gave instructions to keep safe, trusted him when he said that they could coexist with their doubles if they appeared. He wasn't worried until Cecil described a vortex forming on the wall of his studio. Carlos didn't even have time to reach for his phone to text Cecil, to warn him not to touch it, before Cecil leaped through it...apparently.

And then the voice that came on was not Cecil's, but someone else, and Carlos's stomach dropped to his shoes even as his heart leaped to his throat. Cecil was gone, replaced by this...other, this high-pitched, vaguely creepy-voiced individual. Carlos held his breath as he realized that, unlike everyone else in town who met their double – whose double appeared in the same place as them – Cecil had traded places with his double, a man with a different name and different voice who seemed lost and confused. Thank God the vortex was still there, and the man went back through it...but when he described Cecil's desk as strangely bloodless, Carlos panicked anew. He nearly sobbed with relief when he heard Cecil's voice once more, following the weather, and only barely stopped himself from running to the radio station and wrapping him up in a hug.

But when he called Cecil later, intending to tell him how thankful he was that he was okay and that he had come back safe, he chickened out again and kept it impersonal, kept it to science. Cecil, sweet Cecil, let him lead the conversation, and didn't seem upset when Carlos panicked again and turned him down when he suggested getting more personal even though there was nothing Carlos wanted more.

Carlos is still trying to convince himself that the only reason he didn't send the poems he wrote for Night Vale Poetry Week to the radio station is because they are bad, or because they don't really seem to carry the same spirit as the poems Cecil read over the airwaves. Carlos is not a poet. He's a scientist. But he tried his hand at it anyway, just for grins and giggles. His left hand, to be specific, because Carlos is ambidextrous and for some reason that sort of thing comes easier when he uses his left hand and not his right. There is probably a scientific explanation for that, but Carlos has never been interested in experimenting on himself and he's not even sure what he would be able to test. Anyway, he tried his hand at writing poetry and found, in the early light of dawn, that he had filled an entire notebook. But when he realized what they were about, he hastily shoved the notebook into a drawer and tried to forget about it. He can't show those to anyone. Can't send them to the radio station. Can't send them to Cecil. Even if he sends them anonymously, even if he disguises his handwriting. Cecil doesn't need to see those words before Carlos has the courage to say them out loud.

He thought he was going to. He had it planned. Cecil invited him, he said, to a special ceremony, something about a one-year anniversary. Carlos was going to go, assuming it was a community thing, and pull Cecil aside and finally tell him how he felt. But then Teddy Williams announced the army from below Lane Five was imminent, and Carlos let his scientific curiosity get the better of him and went to the alley to investigate. He figured he'd have plenty of time. Maybe he'd text Cecil and ask him to save him, Carlos, a seat at...whatever ceremony it was they were supposed to be going to. He set up his equipment to record Cecil's show and went to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex.

Which brings him to now.

Carlos died. He doesn't need to run tests, or question logic, or anything like that. This is Night Vale and honestly this is one of the least inexplicable things that's happened since he got here. He had just finished demonstrating to Teddy Williams, his militia, and the disgruntled bowling party that the invaders were tiny and the pit only ten feet deep, that they were worrying over what was, broadly speaking, nothing, when he felt the first shot hit him. And then the second, and then the third, and then there were too many to feel where one ended and the next began.

And then there was darkness.

And then there was...not darkness. There was, instead, fluorescent lights and overworked machinery and neon industrial-loop carpet, and if he was looking into the face of God then God looked a hell of a lot like Teddy Williams, and if he was still dead it sure hurt a hell of a lot. But Teddy Williams – who was apparently a doctor, and Carlos' brain just accepted that because why wouldn't he be – assured him he was going to be okay. That he would live. That he did live.

He does live.

Carlos wandered out into the gathering twilight of Night Vale and lifted his phone with shaking fingers and sent a text to Cecil. It was only after he sent it that he realized Cecil's show was still going on, and he wouldn't get an answer for a while. But barely had he perched himself on the trunk of his car to wait than Cecil arrived in the Arby's parking lot, his beautiful face pale and drawn, his lovely eyes wide and bright and suspiciously wet, and his smile uncertain and hopeful.

Carlos couldn't quite bring himself to say everything. That the world was off-balance and he needed Cecil to stabilize it again. That he had been scared, more scared than he had been in a long time, and he needed Cecil nearby to make him feel safe again. That somehow, in the year he's been in Night Vale, Cecil has become safety, has become security, has become home. But he did allow himself to tell Cecil that he hadn't texted him about science, that he just wanted to see Cecil, and Cecil sat next to him and let Carlos rest a hand on his leg while he leaned against Carlos' shoulder, and they watched the light in the sky above the Arby's together, until Cecil had to go back to the station because the weather would be over and he had to finish out his show, and Carlos understood and let him go to be the beacon in the dark for all the lost souls, not just Carlos. He thought, for just a brief, shining moment, that they were getting somewhere.

And now, here he is, a month later, pacing around his living room and trying to convince himself to just call already.

They've interacted a bit since then, more or less back to the way it was before Carlos' near-death experience. Cecil still smiles, still sounds hopeful when Carlos calls, but he doesn't push when Carlos, inevitably, backs down from his firm intention, or at least semisolid intention, and insists it's not a personal call. He resorted to making something up off the top of his head last week because he couldn't actually come up with something he needed more information on or needed Cecil to warn his listeners about, not that Cecil seemed to notice. It's getting ridiculous, even more ridiculous than it was before.

There's no reason to be afraid. It's not even that big of a step. Why can't he take it?

It occurs to Carlos that he hasn't listened to the last recording he made, the one of the show Cecil was giving while Carlos was busy being an idiot. He wants to hear Cecil's voice, and there's still time before his show tonight, so it can't hurt to listen to it now, right?

Sure. Can't hurt at all.

Carlos presses play and sits down to listen. It's fairly typical for one of Cecil's broadcasts, and heat floods Carlos' cheeks when he realizes that Cecil planned the anniversary ceremony himself, that it was meant to be for Carlos, and he squirms a little with guilt over not going right away. He lets Cecil's voice, gentle and soothing and warm, flow over him like a blanket and tries to forget the middle of the story, because even if it has a happy ending it had a truly terrifying middle. At least for Carlos.

It's not until Cecil comes back from a short break that Carlos realizes it must have been terrifying for him, too.

Listening to Cecil's voice as he struggles to stay calm and professional, struggles to report on what happened beneath Lane Five, Carlos feels his breath catch in his throat and his chest tighten. He remembers wishing Cecil could have been there when he...and he can't decide now if he still wishes he was there. If it would have made things better for either of them if Cecil could have held him...or made things worse. The way Cecil's voice breaks, the heartbroken sob as he cuts to a public service announcement, brings tears to Carlos' eyes too.

He suddenly understands. He understands the expression on Cecil's face, the pallor and the wetness, when he arrived at the Arby's parking lot. He understands the way he seemed to sink into Carlos' side when they sat on his car. He understands the gentle slide of Cecil's fingers over Carlos' hand as he – reluctantly – pulled away. He understands the added brightness in Cecil's voice every time Carlos calls him.

And he knows.

As soon as Cecil signs off on the show's recording, Carlos reaches for his phone. It's early enough – Cecil won't be at the station yet, or if he is, he at least won't be on the air yet. It's now or never, and after listening to that, Carlos can't – won't – accept never as an option.

The phone rings, once, twice. Cecil answers, his voice bright and warm and excited, the way it always is when he answers, the way Carlos doesn't think he actually answers the phone for anybody else. He almost chickens out again, but the memory of that small sob stops him. Taking a deep breath, he says the six words that will change the course of the rest of his life.

“I am calling for personal reasons.”

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #cecil/carlos #yes I know I'm eight years late to the party #sue me #ollie writes fanfic

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mistyshine · 3 years

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My Books

The Adventure Bible (The letters B. I. B. L. E. likely stand for Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth and includes Genesis tells how God created us. Next comes Exodus & Leviticus. Numbers & Deuteronomy tell great stories of wandering Israel. Joshua has stories of war & victory. Judges tells of problems in Jewish history. Next comes Ruth; you'll find in this book; the story of Boaz & the wife he took. Samuel contains books 1 & 2. Kings & Chronicles also do. In Ezra & Nehemiah the Jews come home. Esther's the story of a rise to the throne! Job's a story of hope & sadness, the Psalms are songs of praise & gladness, Proverbs gives us wise things to do, Ecclesiastes gives us much good advice too. Song of Songs/Solomon - a poem of love & devotion - is expressed in words of strong emotion, Isaiah & Jeremiah are books of prophecy, Lamentations laments a sad time in history, Ezekiel & Daniel take place in captivity. Hosea, Joel & Amos are the next three, Obadiah's a short little book, Jonah's a great story; why don't you take a look, Micah, Nahum & Habakkuk prophesy, then come Zephaniah & Haggai, Zechariah & Malachi are at the end, then a long time of silence God did send... Matthew & Mark along with Luke & John tell of the teachings of God's son. Acts reports on the apostles' work with the people of the early church. If you take a look at Romans; you'll find within how faith in Jesus can cover sin. next comes 1st & 2nd Corinthians followed by Galatians, Ephesians & Philippians. Colossians explains what faith can do. Thessalonians & Timothy have books 1 & 2. Titus tells us to carry on. The next in line's Philemon. Hebrews is a mystery book? We don't know who wrote it but take a good look. James tells what a Christian should do, followed by Peter books 1 & 2, then come John's letters 1, 2 & 3. Jude's next & as brief as can be. The Revelation of John is at the end & tells of a Savior who's coming again!)

Kenner Collegiate Vocational Institute Yearbook1

Kenner Collegiate Vocational Institute Yearbook2

Lo Ellen Park Secondary School Yearbook

Student’s Oxford Canadian Dictionary Second Edition

The Book of Historically Significant Architecture of Millbrook

The Kingfisher Young People’s Atlas of the World

Pokémon Deluxe Essential Handbook

Armchair Reader; The Book of Incredible Information

The Book of Weird & Unusual Trivia

Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada; A Commemorative Guide

Butterflies & Moths

The R.O.M. Field Guide to Butterflies of Ontario

The Cat Encyclopedia1

The Cat Encyclopedia2

Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul

Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Really Did That?

Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Very Good, Very Bad Cat

Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Did What?

Chicken Soup for the Soul: I Can't Believe My Cat Did That!

The Cat Lover's Compendium

The Cat in the Window & Other Stories of the Cats We Love

Cats: A portrait in pictures & words

Cats: An anthology of stories & poems

A Cat’s Life

The World of Cats

The Elegance of the Cat

Kiki of Kingfisher Cove

The Cat That God Sent

Dewey the Library Cat

The Nine Lives of Christmas

Shy Charlene & Sharyl

Newt’s Emerald: Magic, Maids & Masquerades

The BFG

The Hobbit (Prequel to The Lord of the Rings)

The Lord of the Rings1 The Fellowship of the Ring

The Lord of the Rings2 The Two Towers

The Lord of the Rings3 The Return of the King

Anton & Cecil1 Anton & Cecil: Cats at Sea

ANTON & CECIL2 ANTON & CECIL: CATS ON TRACK

ANTON & CECIL3 ANTON & CECIL: CATS ALOFT!

Carmen Sandiego1 Who in the World is Carmen Sandiego?

Carmen Sandiego2 Clue by Clue

CARMEN SANDIEGO3 THE STCKY RICE CAPER

CARMEN SANDIEGO4 THE FISHY TREASURE CAPER

CARMEN SANDIEGO5 ENDANGERED OPERATION

Carmen Sandiego6 Jetpack Attack

CARMEN SANDIEGO7 SECRETS OF THE SILVER LION

CARMEN SANDIEGO8 CHASING PAPER CAPER

Harry Potter1 Harry Potter & the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone

Harry Potter2 Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter3 Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter4 Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter5 Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter6 Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince

Harry Potter7 Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows

Harry Potter Extras1 Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them

Harry Potter Extras2 The Tales of Beedle the Bard

HARRY POTTER EXTRAS3 QUIDDITCH THROUGH THE AGES

The Inheritance Cycle1 Eragon

The Inheritance Cycle2 Eldest

The Inheritance Cycle3 Brisingr

The Inheritance Cycle4 Inheritance

ERAGON'S GUIDE TO ALAGAESIA

The Hunger Games1 The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games2 Catching Fire

The Hunger Games3 Mockingjay

Divergent1 Divergent

Divergent2 Insurgent

Divergent3 Allegiant

Divergent4 Four: A Divergent Collection

The Borrowers1 The Borrowers

The Borrowers2 The Borrowers Afield

The Borrowers3 The Borrowers Afloat

The Borrowers4 The Borrowers Aloft

The Borrowers5 The Borrowers Avenged

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt1 The Maze of Bones

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt2 One False Note

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt3 The Sword Thief

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt4 Beyond the Grave

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt5 The Black Circle

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt6 In Too Deep

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt7 The Viper's Nest

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt8 The Emperor's Code

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt9 Storm Warning

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt10 Into the Gauntlet

The 39 Clues; The Clue Hunt11 Vespers Rising

The 39 Clues; Cahills Vs. Vespers1 The Medusa Plot

The 39 Clues; Cahills Vs. Vespers2 A King's Ransom

The 39 Clues; Cahills Vs. Vespers3 The Dead of Night

The 39 Clues; Cahills Vs. Vespers4 Shatterproof

The 39 Clues; Cahills Vs. Vespers5 Trust No One

The 39 Clues; Cahills Vs. Vespers6 Day of Doom

The 39 Clues; Unstoppable1 Nowhere to Run

The 39 Clues; Unstoppable2 Break-away

The 39 Clues; Unstoppable3 Count-down

THE 39 CLUES; UNSTOPPABLE4 FLASH-POINT

THE 39 CLUES; DOUBLE-CROSS1 MISSION TITANIC

THE 39 CLUES; DOUBLE-CROSS2 MISSION HINDENBURG

THE 39 CLUES; DOUBLE-CROSS3 MISSION HURRICANE

THE 39 CLUES; DOUBLE-CROSS4 MISSION ATOMIC

THE 39 CLUES; SUPER-SPECIAL OUT-BREAK

The 39 Clues; The Black Book of Buried Secrets

The Boy Sherlock Holmes (his 1st Case) Eye of the Crow

The Boy Sherlock Holmes (his 2nd Case) Death in the Air

The Boy Sherlock Holmes (his 3rd Case) Vanishing Girl

The Boy Sherlock Holmes (his 4th Case) The Secret Fiend

The Boy Sherlock Holmes (his 5th Case) The Dragon Turn

The Boy Sherlock Holmes (his 6th & Final Case) Becoming Holmes

Nancy Drew1 The Secret of the Old Clock

Nancy Drew2 The Hidden Staircase

Nancy Drew3 The Bungalow Mystery

Nancy Drew4 The Mystery at Lilac Inn

Nancy Drew5 The Secret of Shadow Ranch

Nancy Drew6 The Secret of Red Gate Farm

Nancy Drew7 The Clue in The Diary

Nancy Drew8 Nancy’s Mysterious Letter

Nancy Drew9 The Sign of The Twisted Candles

Nancy Drew10 The Password to Larkspur Lane

Nancy Drew11 The Clue of the Broken Locket

Nancy Drew12 The Message in the Hollow Oak

Nancy Drew13 The Mystery of the Ivory Charm

Nancy Drew14 The Whispering Statue

Nancy Drew15 The Haunted Bridge

Nancy Drew16 The Clue of the Tapping Heels

NANCY DREW17 THE MYSTERY OF THE BRASS-BOUND TRUNK

Nancy Drew18 The Mystery at the Moss-Covered Mansion

Nancy Drew19 The Quest of the Missing Map

Nancy Drew20 The Clue in the Jewel Box

Nancy Drew21 The Secret in the Old Attic

Nancy Drew22 The Clue in the Crumbling Wall

NANCY DREW23 THE MYSTERY OF THE TOLLING BELL

Nancy Drew24 The Clue in the Old Album

Nancy Drew25 The Ghost of Blackwood Hall

Nancy Drew26 The Clue of the Leaning Chimney

Nancy Drew27 The Secret of The Wooden Lady

Nancy Drew28 The Clue of the Black Keys

Nancy Drew29 The Mystery at the Ski Jump

Nancy Drew30 The Clue of the Velvet Mask

Nancy Drew31 The Ring-master’s Secret

NANCY DREW32 THE SCARLET SLIPPER MYSTERY

NANCY DREW33 THE WITCH TREE SYMBOL

Nancy Drew34 The Hidden Window Mystery

NANCY DREW35 THE HAUNTED SHOWBOAT

NANCY DREW36 THE SECRET OF THE GOLDEN PAVILION

Nancy Drew37 The Clue in the Old Stagecoach

NANCY DREW38 THE MYSTERY OF THE FIRE DRAGON

Nancy Drew39 The Clue of the Dancing Puppet

Nancy DREW40 THE MOONSTONE CASTLE MYSTERY

Nancy Drew41 The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes

Nancy Drew42 The Phantom of Pine Hill

Nancy Drew43 The Mystery of the 99 Steps

NANCY DREW44 THE CLUE IN THE CROSSWORD CIPHER

Nancy Drew45 The Spider Sapphire Mystery

Nancy Drew46 The Invisible Intruder

Nancy Drew47 The Mysterious Mannequin

NANCY DREW48 THE CROOKED BANNISTER

Nancy Drew49 The Secret of Mirror Bay

NANCY DREW50 THE DOUBLE JINX MYSTERY

Nancy Drew51 The Mystery of the Glowing Eye

Nancy Drew52 The Secret of the Forgotten City

Nancy Drew53 The Sky Phantom

NANCY DREW54 THE STRANGE MESSAGE IN THE PARCHMENT

NANCY DREW55 THE MYSTERY OF CROCODILE ISLAND

NANCY DREW56 THE THIRTEENTH PEARL

Silver-wing1 Silver-wing

SILVER-WING2 SUN-WING

SILVER-WING3 FIRE-WING

SILVER-WING4 DARK-WING

Wings of Fire Arc1 The Dragonet Prophecy1 The Dragonet Prophecy

Wings of Fire Arc1 The Dragonet Prophecy2 The Lost Heir

Wings of Fire Arc1 The Dragonet Prophecy3 The Hidden Kingdom

Wings of Fire Arc1 The Dragonet Prophecy4 The Dark Secret

Wings of Fire Arc1 The Dragonet Prophecy5 The Brightest Night

Wings of Fire Arc2 The Jade Mountain Prophecy1 Moon Rising

Wings of Fire Arc2 The Jade Mountain Prophecy2 Winter Turning

Wings of Fire Arc2 The Jade Mountain Prophecy3 Escaping Peril

Wings of Fire Arc2 The Jade Mountain Prophecy4 Talons of Power

Wings of Fire Arc2 The Jade Mountain Prophecy5 Darkness of Dragons

WINGS OF FIRE ARC3 THE LOST CONTINENT PROPHECY1 THE LOST CONTINENT

WINGS OF FIRE ARC3 THE LOST CONTINENT PROPHECY2 THE HIVE QUEEN

WINGS OF FIRE ARC3 THE LOST CONTINENT PROPHECY3 THE POISON JUNGLE

Warriors: Supers1; Fire-star's Quest

Warriors: Supers2; Blue-star's Prophecy

Warriors: Supers3; Sky-Clan's Destiny

Warriors: Supers4; Crooked-star's Promise

Warriors: Supers5; Yellow-fang's Secret

Warriors: Supers6; Tall-star's Revenge

Warriors: Supers7; Bramble-star's Storm

Warriors: Supers8; Moth Flight's Vision

Warriors: Supers9; Hawk-wing's Journey

Warriors: Supers10; Tiger-heart's Shadow

Warriors: Supers11; Crow-feather's Trial

Warriors: Supers12; Squirrel-flight's Hope

Warriors: Supers13: Gray-stripe’s Vow

Warriors Field Guides1; Secrets of the Clans

Warriors Field Guides2; Cats of the Clans

Warriors Field Guides3; Code of the Clans

Warriors Field Guides4; Battles of the Clans

Warriors Field Guides5; Warriors: The Ultimate Guide

Warriors Grey-stripe's Adventure1; The Lost Warrior, Warriors Grey-stripe's Adventure2; Warrior's Refuge & Warriors Grey-stripe's Adventure3; Warrior's Return

Warriors Raven-paw's Path 1; Shattered Peace, Warriors Raven-paw's Path2; A Clan in Need & Warriors Raven-paw's Path3; The Heart of a Warrior

WARRIORS TIGER-STAR & SASHA1; INTO THE WOODS, WARRIORS TIGER-STAR & SASHA2; ESCAPE FROM THE FOREST & WARRIORS TIGER-STAR & SASHA3; RETURN TO THE CLANS

WARRIORS SKY-CLAN & THE STRANGER1; THE RESCUE, WARRIORS SKY-CLAN & THE STRANGER2; BEYOND THE CODE & WARRIORS SKY-CLAN & THE STRANGER3; AFTER THE FLOOD

WARRIORS SOLOS1; THE RISE OF SCOURGE

WARRIORS SOLOS2; A SHADOW IN RIVER-CLAN

Warriors: The Untold Stories1; Holly-leaf's Story, Warriors: The Untold Stories2; Misty-star's Omen & Warriors: The Untold Stories3; Cloud-star's Journey

Warriors: Tales from the Clans1; Tiger-claw's Fury, Warriors: Tales from the Clans2; Leaf-pool's Wish & Warriors: Tales from the Clans3; Dove-wing's Silence

Warriors: Shadows of the Clans1; Maple-shade's Vengeance, Warriors: Shadows of the Clans2; Goose-feather's Curse & Warriors: Shadows of the Clans3; Raven-paw's Farewell

Warriors: Legends of the Clans1; Spotted-leaf's Heart, Warriors: Legends of the Clans2 Pine-star's Choice & Warriors: Legends of the Clans3; Thunder-star's Echo

Warriors: Path of a Warrior1; Red-tail's Debt, Warriors: Path of a Warrior2; Tawny-pelt's Clan & Warriors: Path of a Warrior3; Shadow-star's Life

Warriors: A Warrior's Spirit1; Pebble-shine's Kits, Warriors: A Warrior's Spirit2; Tree's Roots & Warriors: A Warrior's Spirit3; Moth-wing's Secret

Warriors: The Prophecies Begin1; Into the Wild

Warriors: The Prophecies Begin2; Fire & Ice

Warriors: The Prophecies Begin3; Forest of Secrets

Warriors: The Prophecies Begin4; Rising Storm

Warriors: The Prophecies Begin5; A Dangerous Path

Warriors: The Prophecies Begin6; The Darkest Hour

Warriors: The New Prophecy1; Midnight

Warriors: The New Prophecy2; Moon-rise

Warriors: The New Prophecy3; Dawn

Warriors: The New Prophecy4; Star-light

Warriors: The New Prophecy5; Twilight

Warriors: The New Prophecy6; Sunset

Warriors: Power of Three1; The Sight

Warriors: Power of Three2; Dark River

Warriors: Power of Three3; Outcast

Warriors: Power of Three4; Eclipse

Warriors: Power of Three5; Long Shadows

Warriors: Power of Three6; Sunrise

Warriors: Omen of the Stars1; The Fourth Apprentice

Warriors: Omen of the Stars2; Fading Echoes

Warriors: Omen of the Stars3; Night Whispers

Warriors: Omen of the Stars4; Sign of the Moon

Warriors: Omen of the Stars5; The Forgotten Warrior

Warriors: Omen of the Stars6; The Last Hope

Warriors: Dawn of the Clans1; The Sun Trail

Warriors: Dawn of the Clans2; Thunder Rising

Warriors: Dawn of the Clans3; The First Battle

Warriors: Dawn of the Clans4; The Blazing Star

Warriors: Dawn of the Clans5; A Forest Divided

Warriors: Dawn of the Clans6; Path of Stars

Warriors: A Vision of Shadows1; The Apprentice's Quest

Warriors: A Vision of Shadows2; Thunder & Shadow

Warriors: A Vision of Shadows3; Shattered Sky

Warriors: A Vision of Shadows4; Darkest Night

Warriors: A Vision of Shadows5; River of Fire

Warriors: A Vision of Shadows6; The Raging Storm

Warriors: The Broken Code1; Lost Stars

Warriors: The Broken Code2; The Silent Thaw

WARRIORS: THE BROKEN CODE3; VEIL OF SHADOWS

If CAPITALIZED I don’t have it!

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moirai-au · 4 years

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Timeline: first chapter of arc 2 - Outside. Mars and Ollie meet for the very first time.

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @taikeero-lecoredier @idkwheresanti @thebluejaysworld @chainsthatbindthisrouletteofmine

*****

The young man awoke sluggishly, the wooden ceiling of his living room slowly coming into focus above him. He groaned in discomfort, his clothes and long, dark brown hair damp, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and neck to fall on the couch under him.

The air was too warm, the kind of humid, heavy heat that made you want to crawl into a freezer and stay there for a few hours. Mars shifted, turning to lay on his side, the crick in his neck from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in the day before making him wince- he hated summer.

From the way orange light shone through the living room window, it couldn’t have been later than seven in the morning. Yet it already felt so warm and stuffy, like a mischievous giant had trapped the property under a glass dome.

When had he fallen asleep? What had he been doing? He could barely muster the energy to remember.

The young man usually prided himself on his strict daily routine, but there were times where he just… gave up on it. Waking up one day feeling like nothing he’d do really mattered, and that he’d rather just stay in bed until the sun went away. Those times could last from just a few days to entire weeks.

Now was one of those times- waking and sleeping at the oddest hours, staying prone on his bed or the living room couch as the light shifted and his stomach protested... He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent in that foggy state, the days always started to blend together after the first two or three.

When had been the last time he’d done anything? Other than the usual pattern of wake-bathe-eat-read-eat-read some more-tend to the garden-eat-bathe-sleep?

It felt like years. It probably had. He was getting sick of reading the same books over and over again. So tired...

He blinked- the garden. The heat. The greenhouse had an automated watering system, but…

He struggled to push himself up, groaning as his bones cracked. He set his feet on the carpet under the couch and stood up, his tall frame looming and swaying. “Wow,” he mumbled as his head spun and his knees almost buckled, blood slowly flowing up to his brain again- his stomach growled and ached. Okay. Maybe… maybe he’d eat something later today. There were still crackers in the pantry, right...? Not now. Greenhouse. Have to check on them...

Oh stars, how long had it been? He’d never left them unattended for so long, and in the middle of a heat wave- he felt guilt and anxiousness claw at his chest as he half-stumbled down the corridor leading to the back entrance, walking by mirrors covered by thin white sheets.

***

Early morning light bathed the greenhouse in a warm orange glow, the sounds of sprinklers working away mixing with the chirps and caws of the various birds that called this place home.

Mars strutted down the garden, passing through the rows of colorful flowers and lush green plants- four, five- ah, here’s the one with the chipped beak… visiting ravens and crows, robins, a lone cockatiel he suspected must’ve escaped from somewhere the month before… all seemed calm and healthy, despite the intense heat. Now for the latest residents.

He reached the end of the glasshouse and entered a little fenced-off area, breathing out a sigh of relief as he watched three young parakeets play around a sprinkler, pecking and flapping at the water flying out of the jet.

Looked like everyone was accounted for.

The biggest one -Blue, as Mars had called him in a burst of nonexistent inspiration- tilted his head as the human closed the entrance behind him and approached, spreading his spotted, dark grey wings to jump and fly up, landing on a shoulder. He then proceeded to nibble on a lock of brown hair that had fallen out of Mars’ messy bun. “Hey- ow! Okay, okay-” the human chuckled, gently pushing the offending beak away from his face and guiltily eyeing the almost empty food dispenser hanging from the wall. “I know, I know… Haven’t been the best caretaker lately, have I.”

The young man sighed, sitting down on the grass as Blue, Soleil and () all made themselves at home in his hair and on his shoulders. “I’ll order you guys more food today, I promise.” Actually…

He peered around- bird food wasn’t the only thing on his plate it seemed. Some of the plants had started to grow in places they weren’t supposed to, some needed serious trimming or looked droopy and dry, dead leaves were littering the pathways… Mars groaned- he’d really left the area go to the dogs, huh. He was usually very diligent about maintaining it, keeping everything neat and healthy… it made him feel like he was doing something right, and good, making all this life flourish.

Instead of damaging it. Hurting it. Destroying it.

Mars shook his head- he needed to pull himself out of that state, if only for their sake. He’d done it plenty of times before, he could do it again! This time was just... lasting a bit longer than usual. It was fine.

He gently shooed the little menaces away, getting back on his feet- there was work to be done.

***

He plopped down on the grass gracelessly and let himself fall backwards, laying in the shade- he was flushed, panting, his limbs trembling from the exertion. He let out an annoyed huff- true, he’d never been much in shape, often sickly and bedridden- but this was ridiculous. If Cecil was here he’d probably berate him for neglecting his physical activity, or something of that caliber.

The sun was higher now- most likely around ten. The heat was getting more intense, and it would only get worse from then. Well, at least he’d made good progress: the greenhouse now was free of weeds and stray leaves, plants trimmed to the best of his ability… he’d even discovered a nest full of tiny, newborn shrews somewhere in a patch of tall grass. He’d left it untouched, setting up a few reflective disks on strings to hang around it to ward off potential predators. Like Lune, the brown barred owl that sometimes paid the greenhouse a visit during the night. No baby mice for you Lune, sorry about that.

Mh. His nose scrunched distastefully- he was drenched in sweat, in clothes he’d been wearing for several days if he wasn’t mistaken, and the smell wouldn't get any better with time. He brought a hand to his face to wipe his brow and upper lip, reflexively cringing when his fingers brushed against the uneven skin around his eyes. Maybe he’d take a shower after ordering the bird’s food. Maybe the cool water would wash this sticky, heavy fatigue away. Maybe-

A loud crash snapped him out of his thoughts. He yelped in startled surprise, sitting up in a panic as the one of the glass panels above him exploded, glass flying everywhere and in his direction.

Mars curled in on himself, teeth clenched and eyes coming alight- violet lines flared on the skin around his eyes, strands of hair floating up and swaying as if submerged in water. Everything seemed to slow down ; glass shards glimmered in the sun, now unmoving. Something red- a figure? It was screaming, why was it screaming- came into view, coming closer and closer to the ground- and then the scream was cut off abruptly when the figure landed with a dull thump, right in his poinsettias.

Then suddenly, silence. Heavy, so thick you could’ve cut the air with a knife. The constant chatter of the birds, gone. The glass shards, previously frozen in midair, now scattered in the grass.

And there, in the middle of a perfect circle of untouched ground, Mars slowly let the situation dawn on him.

The young man stood up shakily, the scarred skin on his face now free of glowing lines. His gaze set on the red-clad figure laying a few meters away, he took a few hesitant steps forward then stopped right in his tracks, dumbfounded. That… was most definitely a person.

A person. A person. He hadn’t seen another human being in so long, let alone interacted with one in any meaningful way- Cecil didn’t count, the doc barely emoted anything beyond mild annoyance and disappointment.

Why was there a person here? Why had they crashed through his room and what was he even supposed to do or say in a situation like this, what if they were dead and he now had a dead body in his home and then the police would get involved and oh god he was hyperventilating-

The person groaned, hissing in obvious pain before opening their eyes, blinking dazedly. Then their head rolled to the side, and frightened, slitted golden eyes met a pair of dark green confused ones.

“...Uuh.” they croaked out. “Hi.”

“Putain de nom de dieu !”

#attempt number 2 #because the tAGGING DIDNT WORK #i hate this hellsite :)#guess this is what i get for not posting a chapter in so long lol #moirai #chapter #arc 2: outside #mars #oliver #ocs

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lefebvre-leo · 4 years

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𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟸𝟺𝚝𝚑 𝟸𝟸:𝟺𝟹 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝟸𝟶𝟿

No, no, no, no. Leo ran through the halls and got to his room before anyone else could reach him or talk to him after the emergency assembly was done. He even managed to reach the space before any of his roommates could. He locked the door, took a deep breath, and found himself surprised when a sob came with his exhale. He cursed, getting down on his knees to drag a suitcase from under his bed, dug amongst the winter coats he kept there and pulled out the envelope Cecil had given him the last time they had spoken. It had been days ever since. He should have known to open it the second Cecil had given it to him, but loyalty was a value that ran deep within the Lefebvre family. That much he had grown up learning at least, but soon it would be one more lie.

“If all goes wrong,” Cecil had said, but Leo would have never imagined this was what he had meant. A few days ago, he had toyed with the idea of somebody being after him. There hadn’t been much of an explanation coming from Cecil as to why he had gone missing for five years, why he had made everyone think he was dead. Something to do with their father, although Leo thought it would be related to some sort of mission. Oh, how wrong he was, but Leo lived in ignorance bliss. And he wished he could still be there.

His fingers fumbled, got a paper cut or two trying to rip the envelope without tearing the letter in half. His nerves were worse than they had ever been before as he reached to his bedside table for the bottle of pills Allison had given to him, only to find it empty. He cursed under his breath– the day he needed those. And yet, he couldn’t wait, nor wanted to get out of his room. Truth was, he didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t sure if Cecil had spoken, if he had said something to bring Leo down with him out of desperation– fuck, had he been tortured? He wondered as he opened the letter, desperate to find something that would prove Cecil’s innocence.

Leo, My dear brother.

If you opened this letter before you gave it back to me, it means everything went wrong, I got caught, captured. Maybe I am dead by now, and perhaps you know the truth as well. Or most of it, anyway. That’s exactly what this letter is for. You need to know some things, many things perhaps, that I was not brave enough to explain at your face, and perhaps it will make all of it make sense in your head, which I’m sure is running loose in this moment. You were never good at not thinking, and although it could be your best attribute, it may be the one thing bringing you down one day.

To explain where I have been, I have to come clean about some things. I’m sure you heard about the Brotherhood of Cavan by now. I was a student once, you’re all spies, I know you did your own research and I’ve heard rumors in passing around campus, so I don’t think I have to explain what the Brotherhood is, and what their mission was.

The Lefebvre family has not been explicitly involved with them before. But our mother was. She had been the one doing research on them, trying to get us both out of this world before it was too late, but being a woman was not allowed, so she got uncle Gustav involved into it. He had lost both his sons during a failed mission, he had nothing to lose. I’m not sure how much they found out, how many plans they had in on, or if there were any, but our father found out. He has always been aware of the Brotherhood, simply thought they were nothing but a stupid organization that would go nowhere, but when he found out about our mother’s involvement, he felt betrayed, and not just in his marriage but took it personal as well. Our grandfather wasn’t happy either. They took it as a mission to eliminate Gustav within a matter of days, and it was only months later that our mother’s heart failure took her away from us. Except it wasn’t what killed her. It was our father who did. He poisoned her with pure cyanide, made sure she had a slow death. I am sorry to be the one to tell you, but I don’t think you would find out any other way. The Lefebvres are trained assassins, they know how to hide their tracks, leave no signs or prints anywhere. But they raised two Lefebvre sons, and it was only a matter of time before one found out. And I’m glad it wasn’t you.

Our father organized a mission a few months later. You were too young to join us, he said, and your professional training was about to start, so he sent me alone, only to be attacked halfway down the highway. The fire came from every single direction, got hit in a few spots, though none of them were lethal. I managed to slip away, and our father knew that. Five years, Leo. For five years he was after me. I had to find asylum in different towns and cities, change my name, change everything about me. And that’s when the Brotherhood recruited me. The offered me a safe haven, where I could stop running and stay safe, and they would make sure to keep you safe as well. I took a chance because I was tired of running and never did I imagine what would happen next.

I was never asked to do anything for them until not long ago, before I came to Gallagher as a tutor. I need you to know that I do not share some of their values and beliefs, but I owed it to them. And I have to admit, I agreed with them to some degree.

For years I have seen this life drain the light out of hundreds of kids’ eyes, stealing childhoods, breaking families apart, and it hurt me to see it happen to you, Leo. I had to do it. For you. And for all the kids who didn’t get a chance to choose if this was the life they wanted. I need you to please understand I did with my eyes on the future. I did not kill those girls without any feelings or remorse. I grieved for them too. They did not deserve it, but the message had to be sent one way or another, and although I REGRET what I did, know that I still believe it is one hundred percent worth it if I can spare you from doing the same atrocity with your own hands.

I am asking you to not blame yourself for any of this. I did it with you in my head, but I acted consciously and I will assume responsibility of my acts and take on every single consequence as long as the message is heard. You do not need to live a life you don’t want, Leo. I can see it in your eyes, though you are capable, you are not a killing machine. You do not want to feel what it is like to see the life leaving somebody’s eyes at your own hands. You DO NOT have to listen to what father says, what our grandfather wants you to do, nor you have to make them proud.

You have become an extraordinary man, with amazing abilities, that you should only be proud of yourself and have it be enough, but for what is worth, I am proud of you, baby brother. Of the person you are, because I can see it in your eyes– you’re not a robot. I can see you struggling to let your feelings out, to show the world that you are capable of loving and caring for somebody else. Don’t let this faux family loyalty ruin that for you. Feelings are wonderful and you should allow yourself to live in them.

Seeing you again was the best thing that could have happened to me, and if I have to go, then I’m happy knowing I got to see you one last time and I go feeling perfectly pleased of what I saw.

If what you need is an apology, I’m going to write it for you. I am sorry, Leo. I am sorry, because what will come will not be easy, and I really wish there had been some other way. I am sorry, but I know you can and you will get through this. Not because you’re a Lefebvre, but because you are simply you, the strongest man I have ever met eye to eye.

Love forever, C.

His eyes had turned into fountains by then. The letter stained with tears, some letters running, words completely vanishing, but there it was. The truth. And although Cecil had lied a few times, there was no point on not believing what he had read. His heart was beating so fast, so loud, it felt like it was about to jump out of his ribcage. His breathing was painful as he clutched the letter against his chest and curled up into fetal position as he cried as hard as he had never cried before. Well, perhaps once, when the news about Cecil’s death broke out five years ago. And the feeling was no different. Cecil, who had once been the only person who truly cared about him was gone. Cecil, the one and only person who had ever defended him, and shown him what unconditional love was, was now accused of murder. And he had admitted guilt too.

Leo’s eyes shot up the second he heard the door knob being turned. He couldn’t be around people. He wasn’t sure if anyone wanted to be around him at that point, or if anyone would have a target on his back. He didn’t stop to see which of his roommates was trying to walk into the room before he stormed past them, running the stairs up to the sixth floor and desperately sought refuge in Allison’s room. She wouldn’t want him death, he thought. He could only hope.

#self para #the truth #have some explanation to.... legit everything in the life of the lefebvre and why leo's world is in pieces

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grigori77 · 4 years

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The Works of Ridley Scott - My Top Ten

So I decided I’d drop another series of big post lumps of spam on you guys by rocking my favourite directors’ works by rating my personal favourites of each, and I figured what better place to start than my absolute number one, so here we go - these are my very favourite films of my absolute cinematic IDOL, the master of British auteur filmmakers. Enjoy ...

10. EXODUS: GODS & KINGS

It takes a really ballsy filmmaker to try and make a big budget live action Ten Commandments movie after Cecil B. DeMille’s monstrous Technicolour epic, but guts is something Scott’s never been lacking in, and the result is one of his most striking offerings of recent years, a meaty revisionist take on the Book of Exodus that jettisons most of the mysticism to concentrate on the gritty human struggle at its heart. It’s the story of two warring brothers and the lengths each is willing to go to in order to achieve their opposing ends, and while Scott typically delivers BIG TIME on the spectacle and immersive world-building, where he really shines is as an actor’s director, here rightly focusing on the deeply complex relationship between Christian Bale’s Moses and Joel Edgerton’s Pharaoh Ramesses II. The end result is a lesser known but no less worthy swords-and-sandals epic than his signature entry to the genre.

9. PROMETHEUS

Like many fans of the Xenomorph saga he helped create, I was excited but also understandably wary of his return to the franchise with a proposed “prequel”, and to be honest as an Alien movie this actually is a bit of a mess, trying a little too hard to apply that connective tissue and ultimately failing more than it succeeds (indeed, as a franchise entry, direct sequel Alien: Covenant is a far more successful effort). Personally, I’ve always preferred to simply consider it as a film in its own right, and as a standalone sci-fi horror thriller this is a CRACKING film, insidious, atmospheric, moody and magnificent in equal measure, Scott weaving a sense of dangerous mystery and palpable dread throughout that grips from enigmatic start to devastating finish. Noomi Rapace is an excellent Ripley-substitute, but the true breakaway star of the film is Michael Fassbender as twisted android sociopath David, just as chilling as the horrors he unleashes on his unsuspecting crewmates.

8. THELMA & LOUISE

To be brutally honest, Ridley’s output in the 1990s was largely unimpressive (White Squall left me cold, while 1492: Conquest of Paradise was technically brilliant but discouragingly slow and disjointed, and I think we can all agree cinema would be better off if GI Jane had never happened), but at least he got the decade off to a strong start with this beautiful, lyrical, heartfelt and undeniably powerful tale of unerring friendship triumphing against fearful odds. It may have been directed by a man, but it was written by a woman (Callie Khouri, creator of TV’s Nashville, who rightly won a Best Original Screenplay Oscar for her astounding work) and is unapologetically told from a woman’s point of view, which is finally becoming an accepted thing in blockbuster filmmaking, but back then it was still a new concept, and you have to applaud Scott for being one of its pioneers. It may be most well known these days for giving Brad Pitt his big break, but the film’s focus is VERY MUCH on Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon as the titular friends, forced to go on the run after an innocent night out goes horribly wrong. After becoming one of THE hot ticket date movies of the 90s, it’s still fondly remembered for its heartfelt message, gentle humour and powerful climax.

7. BLACK RAIN

Probably the closest Ridley ever came to capturing his brother Tony Scott’s more popcorn-friendly brand of super-slick, glossy blockbuster fare was this Japan-set fish-out-of-water cop flick, but he couldn’t help adding a real weight and substance to the final product, and the result is one of my very favourite thrillers of the 80s. Michael Douglas was riding high after his Academy Award win for Wall Street, but his performance as hot-headed maverick NYPD detective Nick Conklin has always been my personal favourite, and he shares strong chemistry with a young Andy Garcia as his wise-cracking partner Charlie Vincent, but the film’s understated secret weapon is heavyweight Japanese character actor Ken Takakura as Masahiro, the stoic, by-the-book Osaka police inspector they’re forced to team up with in order to capture rogue Yakuza underboss Sato (a deliciously feral turn from the Yūsaku Matsuda in his very last screen role before his death just months after the film’s release) and bust an international counterfeiting ring. This is definitely Scott’s glossiest film, but there’s hidden depth behind the neon-drenched visuals, the expertly staged set-pieces perfectly countered by a robust story, precision-crafted character work and bucket-loads of emotional heft (especially surrounding the film’s high point, one of the most devastating character deaths in cinematic history). It may not be held in the high regard of many of his more “sophisticated” films, but in my opinion it’s just as worthy of recognition, and I’ll defend it to the death.

6. THE MARTIAN

Scott’s last truly GREAT film (to date, anyway) is also one of his most effortlessly likeable, a breathless, breezy and thoroughly FUN adaptation of the bestselling debut novel of space-exploration geek Andy Weir. Matt Damon must have been born to play Mark Watney, an astronaut in the third manned mission to Mars who is accidentally left for dead on the surface when the crew are forced to evacuate by a catastrophic dust storm; alone and with no means of escape, Watney must use all his scientific smarts to survive long enough for NASA’s desperate rescue mission to reach him. He’s a thoroughly endearing everyman hero we can’t help rooting for, self-deprecating and oozing sass all day long, and in his company the film’s two-and-a-half hours simply RACE by, while one of Scott’s strongest ever supporting casts (which includes Jessica Chastain, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Sean Bean and a glorious scene-stealing cameo from Donald Glover) once again proves that he really is one of the very best actor’s directors around. Thoroughly ingenious, visually stunning and frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious, this is definitely Scott’s most endearing film to date, about as perfect a popcorn flick as you’re gonna find outside the MCU …

5. KINGDOM OF HEAVEN (Director’s Cut)

Certainly the most maligned film in his oeuvre, this has perhaps the most troubled production history of ALL his works, famously mauled in post as 20th Century Fox rushed to get the still unfinished feature ready enough for its summer 2005 release, the clunky theatrical cut understandably met with mixed reviews and somewhat underperforming at the box office. Thank the gods, then, for Scott’s unerring perfectionism – he couldn’t rest with that lacklustre legacy, so he knuckled down and produced what is, in my opinion, the very best of all his director’s cuts, reinstating an unprecedented FIFTY MINUTES of missing material which doesn’t just flesh out character arcs but frequently creates an entirely new, far richer and MUCH more rewarding overall narrative, and the final feature was met with thoroughly well-deserved critical acclaim. Not only is this one of my favourite Ridley Scott films, it’s one of my very favourite historical epics PERIOD, a magnificently rich, sprawling saga of blood, sex, honour and courtly intrigue as we follow blacksmith-turned-knight Balian (Orlando Bloom in one of his very best roles) on his quest for redemption in the Holy Land at the height of the Third Crusade. This is still one of the director’s most expensive films, and EVERY PENNY is right there on the screen, each scene designed to perfection and dripping in astounding period detail, while the sweeping cinematography is some of the very best in his entire catalogue, and the battle sequences so expansively vast they even put Gladiator’s opening to shame. So, far from being his greatest folly, this was ultimately one of Scott’s greatest triumphs, and I can’t recommend it enough.

4. BLACK HAWK DOWN

In my opinion, this is the absolute PEAK of Scott’s cinematic achievements to date as an action director – almost two-and-a-half hours of relentless blood, bullets, smoke and terror that’s as exhilarating as it is exhausting, as emotionally uplifting as it is harrowing, quite simply the DEFINITIVE portrayal of the bonds of brotherhood forged by men under fire. The film tells the story of the Battle of Mogadishu in 1993, 24 blood-soaked hours in which US military forces were trapped behind enemy lines and besieged on all sides by hostile Somali forces after a botched raid saw two Black Hawk helicopters shot down, precipitating a snowballing military catastrophe and a bitter fight for survival. Certainly the film takes many liberties with the historical accuracy (then again that’s pretty much Hollywood’s standard approach regarding true story war movies), but there’s no denying it perfectly captures the desperate chaos the soldiers must have faced on the day, throwing the viewer headfirst into a dusty, noisy hell and refusing to let him out again. The action sequences are some of the finest I have EVER seen committed to film, but the film has just as much heart as guts, tugging our heartstrings and jerking plenty of tears because we really come to care about these boys and what happens to them. Intense, rousing, explosive, provocative – definitely the action highlight of Scott’s oeuvre.

3. ALIEN

It may have some decidedly humble beginnings, but the opening chapter in the other jewel in 20th Century Fox’s sci-fi franchise crown is now considered to be THE greatest science fiction horror film of all time, and rightly so – it’s a textbook example of a flawlessly-executed high-concept “haunted house in space” flick, a master-class in slow-building atmospherics, sustained tension and some truly hair-raising shocks that are as fresh and effective today as they were back in 1979. Not bad for something that started out as a pulpy B-picture script from Dan O’Bannon (co-writer and star of John Carpenter’s cult feature debut and one-time student film Dark Star). The cast is stellar (ahem), dominated OF COURSE by then pretty much unknown young upstart Sigourney Weaver in what REMAINS the greatest role of her decidedly impressive career, but the true star of the film is the creature itself, the late H.R. Giger’s twisted, primal design teased with consummate skill to maximise the stealthy effectiveness of what has become the definitive extraterrestrial nightmare fuel of sci-fi cinema. Ultimately I’m more of an Aliens fan myself, but I don’t deny that this is a MASTERPIECE of the genre, and I f£$%ing LOVE IT.

2. GLADIATOR

It may have been usurped by Kingdom of Heaven as Scott’s most ambitious film, but his first dabble in swords-and-sandals cinema remains the best of his historical epics, and at the time proved to be a MASSIVE shot in the arm for what had long become a flagging, largely forgotten genre, spawning a veritable LEGION of bandwagon-jumping followers. Needless to say, NOBODY does this better than Scott, who brought the opulent excess of ancient Rome and its vast empire to vivid life in all its bloodthirsty, duplicitous detail, from the back-stabbing intrigues of the Senate to the life-and-death drama of the Coliseum. The script is rich and heady stuff (penned as it is by former playwright John Logan), exquisitely performed by a premium-cut cast (particularly impressive was the late Oliver Reed in his very last screen role) and bolstered by some of the most impressive battle scenes ever committed to film, but the true driving force of the film is the ferocious antagonism between the hero and villain, Russell Crowe and Joaquin Phoenix both making the transition from rising-stars to genuine A-listers with major box office clout thanks to their truly electrifying performances. After his relative creative slump in the 90s, Scott’s first offering of the new Millennium proved the start of a major renaissance in his work, and thankfully it’s shown no sign of flagging since …

1. BLADE RUNNER

Not only is this my favourite film by my favourite director, but also what, if I was REALLY PRESSED, I would have to call my very favourite movie EVER. I’m gonna be waxing most lyrical about this in great detail when I drop my big-screen sci-fi Top Ten on here, so I don’t want to talk about it TOO MUCH here … suffice to say this has been a dominant fixture in my favourites since my early adolescence, when I first stumbled across it on TV one Saturday night, and even though it was the theatrical cut with its clunky voice-over and that ridiculous tacked-on happy ending, I was instantly captured by its searing visionary brilliance and dark, brutally nihilistic power, so when Scott finally released his first Director’s Cut I was already DEEPLY in love with this film. Sure, being a Star Wars fan, Harrison Ford will ALWAYS be Han Solo for me (along with Indiana Jones, of course), but my personal favourite role of his career is Rick Deckard, the sleazy, downtrodden and world-weary android-hunting gumshoe stumbling through his most deadly case in the mean streets of rain-lashed cyberpunk megalopolis Los Angeles circa 2019, while Rutger Hauer effortlessly steals the film as his mercurial nemesis, live-fast-die-young Nexus 6 Roy Batty. This is still THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FILM I HAVE EVER SEEN, the visual effects work still standing up perfectly today, the exquisite design work and peerless atmospheric cinematography rightly going on to inform and influence an entire genre of science-fiction both on the big screen and off, and I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who hasn’t already seen it. Deliciously dark, fiendishly intelligent and heart-rending in its stubborn refusal to deliver easy answers or present us with a cathartic HAPPY ending (no matter what the theatrical cut might want you to think), this really is as good as cinema gets.

There you have it, my top movies from the man I personally consider to be the greatest filmmaker around tody, and here’s hoping we’re gonna see a lot more from him yet ... Sir Ridley Scott, knight of the f£$%ing realm ...

#Ridley Scott #sir ridley scott #exodus gods & kings #prometheus #thelma & louise #black rain #the martian #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven director's cut #black hawk down #Alien #gladiator #Blade Runner #greatest director of all time

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scarletta-ec · 4 years

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Original Sin Story: Re_Crime

CHAPTER FIVE: THE ESCAPE OF THE WITCH SALMHOFER

Scene 1

Meta dreams of running away from orange flames, and an endlessly black, warped figure standing among them, shining, dead eyes. She has to keep running— for she is a fugitive.

Scene 2

Meta is in a bad mood that morning— not just because of the dream, but because she’s being woken early by a pounding at her door and angry shouting. It’s Raisa Netsuma. She ends up busting in the door before Meta can get up.

Raisa has burn scars all over her body including her face, from Eve’s lightning strike earlier. She and her people are refugees from Jakoku, and she leads the White Army in the southwest of Levianta. She is also one of Apocalypse’s top brass. Meta worries deeply about her— she thinks she’s too passionate and too wild in battle for her own good. In person, Raisa spoke little, but in a fight she had earned the title of a fiend. It was Pale’s idea she join, hearing of her prowess, and Meta originally agreed because it added the entire White Army and the Second Regiment to their forces, coming to know her better as they lived together in Merrigod.

Meta is distracted from Raisa's upset ranting by staring at her mouth scars, which are not covered with a mask like they usually are.

Raisa is visibly in pain since a lot of her facial muscles are stiff, and her skin sensitive, but is too upset to stop yelling. She hadn't even waited for Meta to get out of bed, having climbed onto it. Meta thinks her hair looks even whiter against her reddened skin.

Raisa says that their base in the north has fallen.

The security forces have become the Royal Capital Army, and are cracking down on Apocalypse— an organization which seeks to disrupt as much of the world’s order as it can, just because they think that’s how things should be, thinking things like laws and such are foolish. Meta is one such person.

She has tried hard to forget her past. She was an orphan, grew up alone, and hated everything in the world. Her life only gained meaning in her eyes after she turned twenty.

She wandered the streets of Levianta, living off of what she stole from vendors and unlocked homes. Whenever she was caught, she would always manage to charm them and be let off with a warning. She didn’t know it at the time, thinking it was because she was a pitiful child, but this had been a result of her Gilles Inheritor powers, which she had no idea how to use, manifesting without her direct control.

She was sometimes allowed into homes and invited to stay as long as she liked, though she never did stay long. Watching the family dynamic around her somehow only made her even lonelier. So when people came to her with their arms open, she always chose to run.

One day, Meta found herself in the midst of chaos, with lots of bodies and fire and destruction around, but she did not run. Not even when she was surrounded by armed men, and one of them (Pale) approaches her with a knife in one hand and a person by the hair in the other. Recognizing her as a Ghoul Child and fellow HER, he offers her the knife, which she accepts.

With his encouragement, she kills the hostage with the knife.

This was her first murder. And she finally felt at home.

She and Pale have committed a great many crimes together at this point. Gammon is the new head of the senate, and is the reason why the royal capital army is pursuing them so fiercely. They’re having trouble fighting them off— in addition to their skill, neither Meta nor Raisa’s powers or magic can breach their bulky armor. They have to come up with a battle plan for here on out.

Meta zones back in and embraces Raisa in bed. When Raisa stops speaking, she lets go and orders Raisa to go retake the northern base, or at least stymie the soldiers there. She’ll send the rest of the former White Army and half of her Red Devotees to give her aid. Raisa, still teary, points out this’ll leave them short-handed to the west, but Meta says they should leave that to the “baron”, Yegor.

Raisa awkwardly runs off the bed. Meta gets dressed, and then thinks she’ll head over to see Pale, her “darling”.

Scene 3

Meta changes into her favorite clothes, and then goes to Pale’s room. She can hear him talking with a woman in there, and then sees a scantily clad Milky laying on the bedsheets, next to Pale who is under them, when she opens the door. Milky greets her politely, and then leaves to go to her own room. Meta goes inside to see Pale is smoking in bed.

He asks if she’s okay, and she shakes her head at the notion that she has anything against "that girl". No matter who Pale sleeps with or loves, she’ll love him still. And she believes he will always come back to her— her powers don’t work on him, so she is certain that they really do love each other.

She wryly asks if he's okay with Raisa, to which he says it's not his business.

Pale has a unique physiology. He has to absorb magical power from another person periodically, or else he’ll lose his youthfulness. His preferred way of doing this is by sleeping with them, with women, specifically. Meta’s magic is not enough alone to sustain him, great though it is. The other person’s magic replenishes once he's done, though the initial drain exhausts the person being fed on.

Meta notices a black box on the nightstand. It is a music box with a winding key that Pale is taking apart. Apparently he’s not very good at reassembling it, though he's disassembling it for the practice.

Meta tells Pale about their base falling, the two speculating that they might have a traitor in their ranks.

Meta worries about Raisa— she's been rampaging worse than ever before. Meta thinks she may be taking out her anger on everyone, including the Royal Army, as the woman who might have been queen that she was trying to get revenge on (Eve) for her injuries is missing.

Pale asks if Meta is implying Raisa is the traitor, or a liability. Meta flusteredly jumps to her defense, insisting it must be someone else.

Pale decides to head north. His “older brother” told him to lay low, but Seth hasn’t contacted him in a long time— thus, they think he might be dead, in which case, there's no need to hide anymore. He tells Meta to go west, to enlist Yegor’s aid in suppressing the forest of Held.

Meta would like to go with him, but knows he wouldn’t like her to go against his wishes. They kiss and part ways.

Scene 4

Yegor is the baron, as suspected. He is cruel and brutal despite having once been the head of a religious temple, having already crushed the villages living in the forest’s eastern half by the time Meta arrives there. Though curiously enough, despite the buildings being in ruins, she can’t see any corpses around. She figures he must have cleaned up the corpses, wondering why for a moment. The place has a fog rolling over it.

Yegor is the “Black Baron”, his army is called “The Black Army”.

One of Meta’s devotees tells her they found some survivors. He takes her to an area before a trauben field to the west of the village. It’s a green haired woman, covered in blood and crouched down, cradling a half-conscious man with blue hair, surrounded by devotees. She’s crying about her missing children— Cecil and Vell.

Meta thinks she’s stupid, figuring that the woman should be grateful she’s alive, and that she can just make more children, that is, if Meta allows her to live. She’s about to order her men to kill the woman when she realizes her men have collapsed, foaming at the mouth. She realizes that the fog is actually poison.

Meta is almost as bewildered to find both she and the woman seem unaffected, noting she can't tell with the man in her arms as he was already out of it.

Meta hears Raisa's hoarse shrieking as the fog grows too thick to see anything. The couple seems to have vanished.

Meta is confused because Raisa shouldn't be here, meanwhile Raisa can only scream about "treason".

Raisa's words are slurring, indicating she may not be immune, protected from complete incapacitation only by her mask to cover her scars.

By the light of the moon, Meta sees figures approaching her from the fog, all wearing masks. They clasp one of her wrists in chains.

The meaningless shrieking crescendos as a sudden impact around her waist brings Meta to ground as a bright red flash explodes, and everything turns black.

Scene 5

Meta is in a dark, inhumane, cold jail cell. She tells the girl in front of the window that she wants a jacket or hot food or something, but no dice. It’s not mealtime yet and they have nothing else for her to put on. There are no men in this jail, so she can’t use her powers to escape.

Upon being asked, the girl introduces herself as Elluka Chirclatia (Zellana’s younger sister). She is a young looking teen. Meta threatens her, expecting her to cry, but Elluka calmly states that she’s more powerful than Meta is, and, in fact, now that her sister is gone, Elluka is the strongest person there.

She reveals Meta is not in an actual prison— she is in Lighwatch temple. Elluka is a virgin priestess there. This is a very special jail cell in the temple designed for someone of Meta’s magical talents. The walls and the ceiling are covered in anti-magic runes— meant to weaken and negate magical power or spells.

They hear footsteps, and Elluka declares it must be the head of the temple— in other words, Yegor Asayev, who has long black hair and thin, black facial hair. Meta accuses him of being the traitor— he claims that Apocalypse merely disappointed him. He abandoned his post believing them to be patriotic warriors, but defected when he realized they were just thugs. Meta accuses him of merely wanting to satisfy his cruel urges. Yegor doesn’t deny or confirm this— merely saying that unlike them, he wants to live a long life.

He tells her (and Yegor really does give the impression that he might enjoy making people suffer) that Pale has been captured, and is in Welvya prison. Raisa wasn't captured— but she was killed immediately after her attempt to protect Meta. That means that Apocalypse has essentially been beheaded.

Yegor isn't sure how Raisa managed to catch wind of his betrayal soon enough to arrive there at that time, and wonders if he may have a traitor of his own.

Yegor mocks Meta and Raisa a little more and tells her to wait for her execution like an adult. He claims to have been divinely pardoned for his crimes— Meta thinks it’s a mix of his family connections and his reward for selling out Apocalypse. He leaves.

Meta is nearly in tears, of both grief and rage. She's shaking in her seat, which rattles the chains.

Meanwhile poor Elluka has been watching this whole thing from the sidelines. She notes that while Meta is a bad person, so too is Yegor. Meta advises Elluka to leave this place as soon as she is able to. Elluka says she’ll think on it, and then leaves the room.

Scene 6

Meta is moved to a new room, similar to the old one except that there is a smooth white chair in the middle. The legs are affixed to the floor, and it has several leather straps on it. Meta figures this is the execution chair.

The executioner (who has his face covered) tells her to sit down, and she does. She tries to think of a way out of this, but the executioner tells her that her Gilles power won’t work on him— she quickly recognizes his voice as sounding like Pale. And when he takes off the cloth covering his face, she quickly realizes that it’s Seth (he was thinking of messing with her by pretending to be Pale, but decided not to at the last second).

Seth remarks that they haven’t seen each other since she tried to kill him at Merrigod (which he thinks Pale ordered her to do, though she denies it). Not that he holds any ill will for that. Pale has apparently been growing more and more rebellious towards Seth. He insists that he is not their enemy, even if he isn’t really on their side.

He says that he came here to help her. His plan is to have her “killed” to get her out of the capital— Gammon decided that all criminal corpses are to be taken to an installation outside of the city. Meta jokes that he’ll revive her as a zombie, to which Seth nods— seemingly to freak her out, as when she objects he goes into his real plan.

It skips their discussion of that. Seth reminds her that the condition for him saving her is that she participate in his experiments at his research facility, and hands her a glass bottle. There is a map to the facility rolled inside.

He starts affixing the straps to her arms, legs, stomach, and head. She asks if this’ll hurt— Seth says he wouldn’t know, as he’s never been executed before.

He throws the switch. She’s electrocuted, and then falls unconscious.

Scene 7

After the execution, Meta’s body is taken inside a casket to the installation as planned. Right after it leaves the temple, Yegor and the priestesses all say a prayer for her. A tearful Elluka is the only one who notices Yegor smiling a little as he makes his prayer.

Meta awakes in the coffin in the installation. She gets the lid open and climbs out, amazed that she’s alive. Seth regulated the electricity so that it would only temporarily disrupt her heart. She takes out the map, though of course has no intention of keeping her promise. She’s about to tear up the map when she sees a message in there from Seth.

He has Pale. And if she doesn’t show up, he’ll kill him. She runs across the cold stone to the institute.

Scene 8

Ever since Gammon’s coup, the twelve capitals have been in an uneasy governmental state. The 12 senators are supposed to be the heads of each family that governs the 12 cities— but Gammon has shuffled them all out, including his father. Fearing too much backlash, Gammon selected sons of the same families instead of getting new family lines altogether. Making the new senate SIGNIFICANTLY younger, in their twenties.

Gammon also made public the matter of Gavriil brainwashing the queen, promising to bring the senate back to something that serves the queen rather than using her. The prophecy of destruction also becomes common knowledge, and to help ease the unrest, Gammon appoints Seth in charge of a new Project Ma.

Seth is explaining this to Meta in the royal research institute. He has since hired on a great deal more researchers, though they are actually political informants, there to make sure she doesn’t run away. This is several months in— she’s already pregnant, and showing.

Meta asks if she’ll be made queen, but Seth says not this time (though she will get a higher status and various rewards). Apparently he had to do it this way because otherwise the Senate wouldn’t have given him permission to have her birth the Twins of God. They talk a bit about the politics of this a little. As a note, Seth marks the time of destruction as being “ten-odd” years away, so probably no more than a year has passed since Adam and Eve disappeared.

Seth says that Gammon isn’t like the other politicians, though— he faced the queen and came into contact with the “truth” though Seth doesn’t know what that was exactly, and as such he is legitimately desperate to avert the country’s destruction. This is part of why he accepted a criminal as the potential mother.

Since becoming pregnant Meta has been living hidden away in the institute. They don’t want the public to know that she’s the mother. She considers her situation a little, like that they might just kill her when they don’t need her anymore. She can reasonably assess that the government isn’t a monolith— Seth, whether ordered by Gammon or acting on his own, wouldn’t have had to go to such measures to break her out of jail if Yegor was in on the plan. So while Seth may promise to keep her safe, there’s no guarantee the others will. She also just doesn’t trust him.

She asks (as she has many times without being told yes) if she can see Pale. Today, Seth agrees. He explains that Pale had not been able to sustain himself without taking magic from people, and as such he wasn’t likely to live much longer— so he had him swap into a more sustainable body. He calls someone into the room, a boy. This is Pale.

Meta is really confused, so Pale explains. He is a Ghoul Child— an artificially created being, comparing it to Meta’s children, saying that they are different only in that his mother was a glass vessel instead of a human being. Meta has to agree with that, she was not impregnated by sex but by a procedure, after all. Ghoul Children were the fruits of Seth’s research on the Next Queen Project as Horus.

Pale notes that he started having the issue with needing magic once he became an adult, though he’s better off than the other Ghoul Child made alongside him, who was little more than an empty shell. They ended up transferring his soul from his degrading body into the empty shell to save him. However, it took some time, which is why Seth couldn’t have them meet until now.

Pale knew this from the beginning, and it is why he ordered Meta to try to kill Seth— he wanted to become the “true” one by killing the original. Meta is moved by sympathy for Pale and goes to hug him. Pale asks Seth if they can be alone for a little bit, and Seth agrees because he’s not a monster, come on.

After hugging a little while, Pale tells her they should escape together— he can live as he is now, so there’s no need for Seth to keep him alive. They can’t flee while Meta is pregnant, so he figures he’ll do something after the babies are born. He wants to restart Apocalypse with her, and Milky if they can afford to find her.

He’s living at Seth’s house right now, under the guise of being his nephew. Figuring the conversation is over, Seth enters to fetch Pale, taking him away. Meta sees Pale as nothing more than arms and legs connected to Seth’s fingers by thin strings.

Scene 9

Several months pass, and the babies are born. They are immediately put into a life support system. The “baby room” is in the institute, with the twins inside two large glass tubes, that run from halfway up the tower to the ground floor, full of fluid. Gammon is looking at them with Seth.

Like normal premature babies, Meta's babies weren’t able to breath well after being born, but they’ve recovered now, the tubes are a precaution. Gammon wants to have them taken to Alicegrad soon, so they can be made into the receptacles for Levia and Behemo’s souls.

Gammon explains that Alice herself will do this using the “Swap Technique”. He claims she is the only person in Levianta who knows how to do it, and that supposedly all of the queens through Levianta’s history have had this power. Their ability to receive revelations is, according to him, a result of temporarily allowing the gods’ spirits into their bodies.

Seth doesn’t let on that he already knows all about it, because he can do something similar.

Gammon has been wearing his hair differently, setting his ponytail low instead of high. He's been smiling more often, too.

Seth also thinks that this is all quite unlike Gammon, being much more knowledgeable than he would have thought. He thinks maybe someone has swapped their soul into his body. Whether Gammon is still in there or not is something Seth can't tell.

The day after next, Hansel and Gretel’s birth is told to the public, and the new Evillious calendar is made to mark their birth date.

Scene 10

Four days later, at night, Meta is looking at the babies and thinking to herself how cute they are, despite the fact that she never had an interest in kids before now. She’s not happy though that they aren’t her and Pale’s kids, she can’t even hold them, and that they’re going to be taken away to be used as vessels for gods tomorrow.

Looking upon them, it triggers memories of her past. Gretel’s eyes are open, and she is reaching for her mother inside the glass. Meta puts her hand over hers on the glass, and then has a flashback.

Scene 11

It’s her dream from the beginning of the chapter, running from orange flames with a figure in the middle. She has to keep running. When she glances back, she sees Seth Twiright.

Scene 12

Meta's reminiscing is interrupted. She can hear screaming, shouting, and gunshots. Realizing it’s Pale at work, she dives inside the tanks, taking the babies with her as she shatters the tubes. The remnants of Apocalypse are wreaking havoc. Pale calls to her from a window in the hallway, bidding her to leave the building through it.

He objects to her taking the children along, saying they’ll only get in the way, but she refuses to leave them behind. She realizes his current body is too small to run with babies in his arms, so she carries them both herself.

She thinks about her birth, her early childhood, that time she hated so much. Seth declared her a failure, and, fearing being put in refrigeration like her “brother”, escaped from him during the same attack Adam disappeared in. She knows it’s selfish, but she doesn’t want the babies to suffer as she has. She doesn’t want them to be the toys of gods.

Scene 13

Meta and Pale are running through a foggy new moon night. They think that they’re safe— but Pale suddenly trips and falls, starting to lose consciousness. Meta remembers what happened in the forest, and realizes the fog is the same poison as before.

Seth approaches (wearing a full-face mask), wondering why it’s not affecting her babies. He says the fog was a sort of byproduct of producing Venom— it won’t kill anyone, but they’ll be put to sleep for a few days. Seth already knew the fog likely wouldn't affect Meta, but he's certain the babies wouldn't be inheritors like her. He wonders if a god could be interfering.

Pale urges Meta to leave him behind and run south to escape the country— he knows Seth won’t kill him; Seth confirms, saying basically he’s too good at being evil to kill. Meta says she’ll wait for Pale in the forest, and runs off. Seth tries to follow her, but Pale grabs his leg and she gets away.

Seth kicks him to get him to let go. He won’t kill Pale, but he does plan to “reset” him.

Scene 14

Meta is running away, referencing the last part of the song.

Meta’s part ends in her declaring that she’s a fugitive.

#infoedit #ec #evillious chronicles #meta salmhofer #original sin story #story #fanfic #seth twiright #Pale Noel #Raisa Netsuma #yegor asayev #elluka chirclatia

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scarletgardensrpg · 4 years

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UNDEAD ♦ TWENTY-SIX ♦ NEUTRAL

EVANDER BUCHANAN is the Gravekeeper of the Oude Kerk. While Evander does not uphold most traditional priestly duties, such as Sunday sermons and rituals, he offers Undead baptisms, wherein the newly rehabilitated are “purified” as a means of initiation into Amsterdam—a common practice for nearly all Undead citizens, regardless of their religious affiliation. He was killed and transformed into a rotbeest at the age of twenty-six by Cecile, then resurrected in the Carpathian Mountains by Julian in 2045.

BIOGRAPHY

tw: alcohol and drug abuse, death

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” Julian, on the other end of the line, sounded tinny and unimpressed. Thank you for that, good morning to you as well. Now if you'll be more specific... “Okay, um. I’m still at the beach.” A long silence. “I took Papa’s Porsche.” An even longer silence. “It’s, like, not in great condition. Anymore.” This last stretch of silence went on for so long, Evander pulled his phone back from his ear to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected. “Julian.” Is it still driveable? “Yeah, I think so. Maybe. I dunno, the wheels look fine?” That’s not—okay. Drive it to the nearest collision center. Now, it was Evander’s turn to be silent. For the first time, in a long time, he felt something akin to shame. He was nineteen, and still trying—failing—to make his brother proud. “I’m, uh, still kind of drunk. Sorry. Do you think you could—” Yes. I’ll be there soon. Click. Evander swore under his breath and shoved his phone back into his pocket. His eyes hurt, there was sand in the depths of his ass crack, and Ce was going to mock him for a week.

- ❀ -

Spare the rod and spoil the child. He came last: after Julian had been born and deemed favorite and heir, after Cecile had been born and deemed illegitimate and unwanted. Evander, then, found himself with nothing to prove and nothing to endure: it was all roses. Handsome, good grades, star of the football team; he’d spend his youth living out some iteration of the American fantasy: a young prince without a care in the world, idling indulgently by an emerald infinity pool—the very picture of privilege. But, of course, as with all things that seemed too good to be true, there was the untarnished gleam of good appearances and saved face—and then, there was the truth. The Buchanans, for all their money’s worth, were a study in psychopathy: generations of well-dressed bastards who had lied and cheated their way up to Heaven, and scaled up the ladder of power using their claws and teeth. A thousand ruined lives could be put to Papa’s name—his own children’s being chief among them. It was a beautiful life, filled with exotic vacations and designer clothes, more money than he’d ever need, enough to fill entire rooms with—and it was an ugly life, marred by screaming matches, broken furniture, and five perpetually unoccupied seats at the dinner table.

In the end, it was enough to drive Julian to heartlessness, Cecile to madness, and Evander to debauchery. He, especially, wanted no part in any of it all. His siblings were formidable and hungry: the boldest and brightest of the Buchanan clan, with enough conviction to set the world aflame and enough ambition to swallow it whole. What candle could he have held to those big people, those big dreams? He had no interest in trying. Instead, at Dartmouth, he would retreat into his expensive amusements and vices: liquor and wine, lines of cocaine, a quarter-million dollars blown on a bad bet in the casino, yes-men all around him. You’re so pathetic, Cecile would say disdainfully each morning she found him passed out in the foyer—and this, Evander knew, was the one thing she and Julian could agree on. He didn’t mind. That meant there was one less thing he had to listen to them fight about. He loved them, dearly and inexplicably—and he had thought they loved him, too. Wasn’t it enough that they had one another? The answer was, printed in neat clinical letters atop a stack of biochemical consent forms: No. He had underestimated both of them. Julian’s love and Julian’s ambition were two breeds of the same beast. Cecile’s wrath and her ambition were two strains of the same poison.

So: he would die by the hands of his siblings. At this point, it was so trite to talk about: six years of experimentation, Cecile shouldering the brunt of it—not out of concern for Evander, but a twisted need for it to fucking work, already before it got to Julian. When at last it did, and Cecile came out of the bloody waters a dead woman with gleaming eyes, she’d make plans to raise hell, as was so typical of her—but this time, intended Evander to partake in the chaos, too. He had bled to death at her feet, cheek pressed to the filthy basement floor, more afraid than ever. When his mind sank away from him at last, Cecile let him up and swung the door open. It’s me, Ce, she cooed. You always liked to have fun. We’re going to have some fun. And was it fun? In the moment, it might’ve been. Evander couldn’t say. He would come to in three years, in the mountains with Julian’s blood in his mouth and no recollection of what had occurred in the time between the night he’d died and now. His brother looked older, icier than ever. Cecile was nowhere to be found. There’s no need to save her, Evander had spat into the snow. She saved herself.

At least I’ve saved you, Julian said. To that, Evander could only laugh and laugh, until the incredulity wore off, and there was only grief.

CONNECTIONS

IVONNE – PESKY WOMAN. Evander understands she is his counterpart of sorts—a Priestess to the living in the same way he is a Gravekeeper for the dead. Evander doesn’t understand how this, alone, is sufficient justification in Ivonne’s eyes to enter and leave his church as she pleases (“Evander, this is public property. Your attitude is un-priestly.” “I’m not a priest!”) with armfuls of baked goods, insisting matter-of-factly that he doesn’t eat enough, among a myriad of other baseless declarations she makes to him, about him. They are, in Evander's opinion, vastly different people: where he had happened upon the abandoned Oude Kerk and, in seeing no better option, made a reluctant home for himself there, Ivonne is a zealous New Worlder type. She is a peculiar woman in general: for all her power and popularity, it doesn’t seem she has many friends, nor particularly wants them. In some ways, Evander thinks she’s even lonelier than him. Despite this, he remains quick to brush her off—sometimes aggressively, the hurt of having someone to look after him after so many years both sharp and jarring, and other times begrudgingly, between bitefuls of (admittedly delicious) lemon meringue. She is not exactly motherly, per se—Ivonne acts more like a disapproving corporate manager, or a disinterested therapist—but her attentiveness for Evander is both overwhelming and...neither appreciated, nor unappreciated. He’s conflicted. You know, I can take care of myself, he told her once. Ivonne had lifted a single, elegant brow. Yes, I know. I wonder all the time why you don’t.

JULIAN & CECILE – TWO KNIVES IN HIS BACK. It’s hard—no, impossible—for him to reconcile that Julian, who read him to sleep after nightmares and took a welt to the cheek for Evander after he’d crashed the Porsche, had also watched impassively from across the expanse of an infinite table while Evander signed his life away—and that Cecile, who cried in the bathroom when nobody came to her recital, and accepted expulsion from six successive schools for the simple want of being loved, had been the same woman to draw Evander calmly into her arms, only to kill him between teethfuls of flesh and blood. Once, Evander thought his older brother and sister hung the moon. Cecile never was able to accept Julian’s kindnesses—ones she called debts, mouth wrapped sourly around the word—but Evander would have been content to bask in that kindness forever: diamonds and Jaguars, exotic beaches, lovers in every city—and above all other luxuries, the one of knowing the three of them would be together, always. That hope of his has come true, he supposes, in the most twisted of ways. True, he has Cecile to thank for not abandoning him in a basement in Palestrina—but she’d left him three years later instead in Poland. And he has Julian to thank for resurrecting him—but Julian was the pronouncer of his death sentence to begin with; and what’s more, he’s carried him out of one Hell, only to drag him into another. They were never a happy family, but they were a family. Now, whatever it is that’s keeping them together—science, death, and that ugly word, debts—Evander wishes it wouldn’t.

KISARA & OKSANA – THE LOVERS. He really, really, wishes they would stop making out in his cemetery. Well—they are not exactly kissing, but by the way they spar and wrestle, eyes gleaming bright with the closest thing to feeling alive : it might as well be kissing. Kisara is an old friend—someone he used to visit at the Moulin Rouge when he’d first arrived in Amsterdam, having defaulted back to sex and gambling to quell his misery. The two of them had once gone to depraved depths with one another, lost their minds eating seeds, tumbled about in satin sheets— Eventually, he turned his back on all of it once and for all, but Kisara stuck around. According to her, Oksana is new meat. I’m showing her around, she says, feinting disinterest as she goes to examine her perfect, shiny red nails. Evander snorts. Yeah, showing her around your bed. When Kisara jabs him in the rib with a snarl, he has to roll on the ground and make exaggerated sounds of pain for like, a while, before she finally laughs and forgives him. Kisara and Oksana have been coming around more often—De Wallen is cramped and unsightly, while Centraal Station tends to overrun itself with creepy 200 junkies when it gets late enough. The Oude Kerk, decrepit and, exempting Evander himself, void of people, is an admittedly good place to have some privacy. In truth, Evander doesn’t really mind. Kisara is welcome to come whenever she’d like, and he likes Oksana enough: she’s witty, abrasive, and reminds him a lot of Cecile. But perhaps it’s that very resemblance to his conniving sister that makes him uneasy about her. Kisara, too wrapped up in whatever it is they have going on, doesn’t seem to see the way Oksana holds herself: calmly and calculatively, showing just enough teeth to pass off as fully feral. Evander knows her kind. He’s not inclined to trust her.

OPEN ♦ FC: SEAN O'PRY

#evander #o #ud #neutral #all #lsrpg #lsrp #bio rp

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