#Snowshoe fanfiction

[backtothestart02]

Between Me and You - 1/1 | Snowshoe fanfiction

A/N: Was inspired by Grant and Chris's short film and decided to write up a little scene that takes place before it. Enjoy.

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Synopsis: Cal and his mother discuss Kevin prior to the brothers meeting up.

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“Cal.”

He watched as the light from his mother’s eyes faded slightly before she stepped back to let him into the house. He told himself not to take it too hard. After all, her struggle was his. They both wished he had been someone else in that moment, or that it hadn’t only been him.

“I…wasn’t expecting you today.”

He smiled weakly.

“I thought we could have lunch, spend some time catching up.”

Her smile turned regretful.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much in the fridge for cooking with.”

“If I remember right, you do still have frozen pizzas stocked in the freezer though. In case…”

He stopped, frozen, hoping his mother wouldn’t finish his sentence.

“In case Kevin comes back,” she said softly, almost emotionless. “Have you heard from him?” she asked, hopeful now.

Cal shook his head and slipped out of his shoes and coat before heading down the hall and into the kitchen, his mother trailing behind him.

“Not for months. He won’t return my calls.”

“Mine either,” his mother said, and it just about killed him.

It was bad enough when his own depression escalated to the point he could barely crawl out of bed and get dressed in order to get to work on a good day, but the fact that he knew their mother also shared that struggle, and it had been getting worse since their father passed away two years ago made it all the worse.

He knew Kevin was busy, thriving even, and completely void of any such mental illness, but the least he could do was check on his mother. Cal was getting worried about her, which only amped up his own depression. It’d gotten better recently though. With the meds.

“Maybe he’s met someone,” she said, hopefully. “Last time you talked, you said he told you about a girl, right? Rachel, was it?”

His lips lifted up into another attempted smile.

“That’s right.”

“Maybe things have gotten serious. I could do with some grandchildren now that you two are all grown up.”

And Cal felt a stab of guilt. Not for his brother this time but himself. He hadn’t had time to find a special someone of his own, let alone think of bringing kids into the world to keep his mother occupied for who knows how long, maybe not since he got out of college years ago. His depression had been holding him down, keeping him hostage, keeping him focused on his pain or his mother’s pain at his brother’s distance, his absence, his clear disregard for the people he’d left behind that he supposedly loved.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean…”

She covered her hand over her son’s, and he smiled. For her.

“It’s alright. Maybe you’re right. Maybe things have gotten serious between them.”

She nodded and settled onto a stool while he moved away to find ingredients for lunch. Silence settled between them, giving him time to think, to obsess, to plan.

“Mmm, something smells good,” his mother said sometime later, and he looked down at the dish he’d crafted on the stove.

“Almost done,” he said.

“Smells cheesy,” she declared.

“Mac’n cheese. With veggies.”

“Your favorite!”

When I was a kid, he thought, but he chose not to point that out. A genuine smile had finally reached his mother’s eyes.

“Yep.”

He turned off the heat, brought out two bowls, and dished out some of the pasta into both dishes. Then he fished out two spoons from the silverware drawer and grabbed the salt. Somehow he managed to take all of it to his mother in one trip.

“Blow on it. It’s hot,” he warned.

She blew on it daintily and took a hesitant bite.

“Mmm, tastes good.”

He gently nudged the saltshaker closer to her, and she chuckled. He declared that a victory inwardly.

“You know me too well.”

Of course he did. He’d stuck to her like glue the past few years. He knew she was a glutton for punishment, particularly when it came to her salt intake.

“I thought I saw some milk in the fridge,” he remarked, turning away while she dumped salt onto her noodles.

“Yes, I bought some the other day.”

Without being asked, he fished around in the fridge for the white drink and brought it out, filling two glasses for the both of them.

“Mmm, so good,” she said after taking another bite. This time he knew she meant it and grinned.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Silence settled again as they ate, and Cal let his mind wander back to Kevin and all his missed calls, missed texts, and his poor mother always disappointed when it was him who came to the door instead of his brother.

She didn’t favor Kevin, he knew that. She just didn’t like when her family wasn’t whole, and neither of them had seen Kevin for years, except his one chance encounter with him about six months ago. But that had been short-lived.

“I’m thinking of paying Kevin a visit,” he finally said, and his mother looked up at him, surprised and delighted.

“That sounds nice. Maybe you could convince him to come home? Just for a visit, of course. I don’t expect him to shift his whole life just for me.”

Cal’s heart ached at those words.

“I’ll give it my best shot,” he said, and they returned to their meals.

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

@theluckoftheclaws said: How do you determine the right animal [for a character's dæmon] (genuine question)

You have unleashed levels of autism the likes of which the world has never seen, jsyk!

Dæmons are not really "this character is sarcastic and lithe and finnicky so they'd be symbolized with a cat". Dæmons are largely determined by their role and symbolism in *art*, and what art it's drawn from depends on where in the story Lyra is. It also depends on their role in the story as a character somebody invented for a purpose. They say that dæmons are your soul that reveals your inner nature, but that's in-universe conjecture. One widely accepted as fact, but one that the narrator never fully claims is true. It's important to remember that characters are tools in a story, and dæmons are signifiers of that role, much in the same way that medieval paintings depicted animal companions alongside humans, to evoke a cultural, spiritual and historical context. To quote Pullman himself: don't make a metaphor do the work of a fact.

For example, in the medieval Oxford, the dæmons all take the form of animals that would have been known to medieval scholars, and their implications carry their symbolic meanings of the time. Jordan college is full of ravens, moths ermines, cats, hawks, setters, and serpents-- and also there are a few creatures, such as basilisks and small dragons-- that would have been imaginary to us but very real to medieval scholars. The only dæmon not of European origin is Lord Asriel's dæmon Stelmaria, who is in the form of a snow leopard,  evoking Asriel's infatuation with the North and giving us a subtle clue about the fact that he fits poorly in Jordan society. It's not until Lyra meets Mrs. Coulter and goes to London that the variety of dæmons expands, and when it does it expands into the art of the rennaissance and Flemish art. Pugs, parrots, monkeys, and butterflies are found in London. When Lyra travels north, she meets people with wolf and snow goose and snowshoe hare dæmons.

Ermines represent young girls born into nobility and their spiritual purity, so Lyra, who is innocent and nobleborn, often has Pantalaimon in the shape of an ermine. The fact that weasels are considered sneaky liars (as Lyra is) comes secondary to me, in my personal opinion. The servants in The Golden Compass are described as all having dog dæmons, because Lyra's world operates on a strict hierarchy of class, and the Butler and Chamberlain are all servants of a story, not really fully-fleshed characters in their own right. Conversely the characters like Asriel and Coulter have very "noble" animals associated with high class and exoticism: the aforementioned snow leopard and golden monkey. Dæmons are also amoral-- they don't indicate heroism or villainy. If Pullman made every bad guy's dæmon an animal that we have negative association with, loaded them with snakes and bugs, then everyone in the world could immediate clock who a "bad person" is just by the shape of their dæmon, and life just does not work like that.

If you want to choose a dæmon for a character, you have to take into account the genre you're working in. Poetry (The creator of the Dæmorphing series) utilizes a more scientific approach, matching characters' dæmons to observed animal behavior and biology. This works very well for Animorphs fanfiction, which has a huge emphasis on zoology and the natural talents and traits of animals... and very little to do with art and history and fantasy. But if your work is more on the historical or fantasy side, I'd suggest looking into the symbolic meanings of animals in specific cultures and periods of time to inform your choices. This historical and cultural context is why I'd find it ludicrously difficult to make dæmons for, say, the Star Wars cast, because all the animals in that universe are Imaginary, and even the ones based on real-life animals lack the social+historical+cultural context of dæmons. So I could give them earth animals, but is that immersion breaking? Probably. Same goes for Pokémon.

This level of involvement and research and intertext is usually too complicated for your average ao3 chud though, so you open a fic and you're more than likely to see dæmons pulled from a pool of the same 15 or so animals. So many wolves.... so many big cats........

If it's a series and character i'm familiar with, i'm more than willing to offer suggestions for potential forms! I literally possess several bestiaries and books on animal symbolism.

[power-house-fan12]

OC SBS

Happy Woman's Day for on this day I will write down SBS trivia facts of my one piece oc's women with 8 facts about them.

Bishop D Elisa

Her birthday Is July 7th Which is Tanabata also know as star day in japan reason was her devil fruit being related to space and her being like a goddess like the heavenly maiden which was nickname that was once given to her.

Her favorite food Is custard cream puffs and her least favorite food is oatmeal

Her Hobbies are stargazing and Dancing.

If she wasn't a pirate she would be a Lounge singer

A flower she resembles would be orchid

Her animal would be a Snow leopard

She's is the youngest, smallest female member of the whitebeard pirates

She is the only one to have a Heterochromia but it was force by her old man.

Malley D'o Grace

The first female to join kidds crew

Her birthday is July 3rd Which is ocean day and because she is a chef most cooks dream is the all blue which is a dream ocean.

Favorite food Is macaroni gratinte and her least favorite food is Spicy curry

Her hobbies Baking and hiking

If she wasn't a pirate she would be Biker cop

Her animal would be Echidna

A flower that resembles her is Apple blossom

She only told Kidd and killer about her mark and her being A will of D

Delahaye Primrose

She studies herbalist on learning medicine all natural even from toxic ones some day.

Favorite food is Carbonara and least favorite food is apan

If she wasn't a pirate she would be Florist

The flower she resemble of primrose

Her hobbies exploration and camping

Her animal would be a lemming

She was able to join law crew after saving bebo

Her name comes from primrose comes from the flowers which means first she is the first one to gain a devil fruit before the other girls

Swann Mary

Favorite Food eclairs least favorite food tofu

Was able to join sword for secret reasons even if she was a slave

Her hobbies are woodworking

Her animal Quokka

If she wasn't a marine she would be a security guard

On her birthday is when fredrick dougless escape from slavery (never imagine that) which she was one of few also escape with help.

The flower she would bay tree

Her surname comes from Elizabeth swann from pirates of the Caribbean

Bishop D Eve

Her animal would be a snowshoe hare

She was founded by issho the same way dragon founded sabo

Her hobbies reading fantasy books and singing

Favorite food Checker cookies least favorite food is broccoli

the flower Belladonna

If she wasn't marine she would be a middle school student

She is one the youngest members of the marine with cody and have a high position

Like her sister,ace and yamato all of them resented their fathers

This is it also here are three more women which I name for a oc's in the future base on fanfiction I came across

Charlotte Jubliee

Charlotte Cream

Donquixote Vanessa

[jouska-the-deer]

A Bit Much, Part 2

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Here’s part 2, and part 3 should be posted very soon. 

Part 1: Amy helps Shadow decorate his house for Valentine’s Day.

Part 2: Sonic spends the afternoon with Amy.

Part 3: Sonic spends the evening with Shadow.

With a delighted squee, Amy ran up to her door, answering the knock she just heard. She swung the door open, revealing Sonic standing on the other side.

Before any conversation was made, Sonic got a look at Amy’s outfit for the day. She wore a long frilly red dress with matching high heels, a red headband similar to her usual one only this one was decorated with fake roses, and long white gloves instead of her usual short ones.

“Woah. You look really good.”

“Thank you!”

Sonic blushed, handing her a bouquet of handpicked flowers and a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Amy.”

“Thank you so much! And, Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, Sonic.”

They leaned down, sharing a brief kiss before Amy stepped back into her house.

“One moment. I have to put these down and grab something.”

“No problem.”

With that, Amy rushed into her house, arriving back in seconds. She expectantly held a card out for Sonic to grab, her heart racing as he took it from her.

“I made it myself- well, I bought a blank card and decorated it- but still. I hope you love it!”

Just glancing at the card showed the time and effort that went into making it look beautiful. The most noticeable thing on the front was the huge red heart in the center, with golden colored cursive spelling out “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sonic”. Looking a little closer revealed all the small details in the background, including a bunch of little hearts and roses drawn in patterns that made up larger hearts. Intricate patterns of hearts made up the edges of the card, giving it an almost professional feel.

As Sonic opened the card, he noticed that the pattern of hearts around the border of the card were the same on the inside. There wasn’t a bunch of hearts and roses drawn in the background though. Instead, there was a neatly written poem spanning both sides of the card interior. Sonic began to read it, knowing that Amy definitely worked hard on it and wanted him to.

Thank you for the unending love

You make me feel each day

Even if you’re not next to me

I feel it anyway

The past was often filled with me

Trying to be your bride

You never could evade my hugs

No matter how you tried

Today I know it was unkind

To stick to you like glue

But after decent time and space

You let me close to you

And then before I knew

You came to love me too

Sonic couldn’t help but blush bright red as he read the poem. He was only halfway through it, and he could already feel his heart pounding.

Thank you for all the time you spent

Making my life so fun

The adventures you’ve given me

Beat any vacation

There were some days I doubted that

You’d come back in one piece

As time passed and we got closer

Those worries didn’t cease.

But here you are still by my side

Despite all that you fight

Smiling the way you always do

Ridding me of most fright

Each day and every night

Keeping my spirits bright

Helping me feel alright

When Sonic looked up from the card, he noticed Amy blushing as well. She was looking away bashfully, but once she glanced at Sonic and saw he was done reading, she gave him a hopeful smile.

“Do you… like it?”

Sonic returned the smile.

“I loved it.” He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Amy and pulling her into a hug. “And, I love you.”

Amy hugged him back, sighing happily. “I love you too.”

They held each other for a brief moment, enjoying the contact a few more seconds before stepping back.

Sonic glanced down at the poem in his hand again.

“This is even better than the one you wrote last year.”

“I hoped so. I’ve been practicing so that the poems I give you are even better.”

“I can tell.”

“Thank you.”

For a second, Amy giggled happily at the compliment, before jumping at something she was forgetting about.

“Wait! I’ve got stuff for us to do today!” Immediately, Amy grabbed Sonic’s free can and began pulling him somewhere. “Come on!”

Sonic chuckled, putting the card safely into his hammerspace.

“I’ve got a better idea.” With one quick movement, Sonic scooped Amy into his arms and held her bridal style. “Just tell me where to go and we’ll get there in no time.”

Blushing deeply, it took Amy a moment before she could reply.

“O-Okay.”

“This is it. Just stop over there.”

Sonic slowed to a halt in front of a pleasant little cafe that appeared well decorated for the holiday. Valentine’s Day balloons were tied to the outdoor tables and chairs, and each table had a bouquet of fake roses in the center. Carefully, Sonic set Amy down.

“This place looks pretty nice,” Sonic commented.

“Yep! Perfect for a romantic date with the person you love~”

Once again, Sonic couldn’t help but blush, scratching his quills as Amy lead him forward. Quickly, Sonic jogged in front of her, holding the door open.

“Aww. Thank you.”

“No problem, Amy.”

It wasn’t long before they were seated at a table for two near the front windows, with each of them ordering a drink before their waiter walked off to help the other customers.

The meals they each had were well presented and tasted nice, well worth the small amount of time they had to wait for their food to be finished. While they were eating, Sonic couldn’t help but notice how Amy kept looking at him dreamily, but he didn’t appear to mind. He continued to eat his food happily while Amy did the same.

Wit their meals now finished, Amy nervously looked at Sonic.

“Hey, Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

She looked away, her cheeks turning bright red.

“Um, would you like to…” After a few breaths, she forced herself to look at him. “...Share a milkshake with me?”

Sonic blushed just as hard, clearing his throat as his heart raced.

“Well, uh, okay- I mean, sure- I mean, I’d be cool with it. Uh, yeah.”

Amy squeed loudly in excitement before covering her mouth, letting out a more contained giggle of joy after. Sonic smiled as Amy grabbed the dessert menu.

When the milkshake was finally delivered to the table, it was about what Sonic was expecting when he heard Amy order the “Endless Love, Valentine’s Day Milkshake Special.” It was definitely a strawberry flavored shake, and he could see chocolate stripes running down the sides of the glass it came in. The milkshake was topped with plenty of whipped cream, and covered in tiny heart-shaped sprinkles. Two straws were sticking out of the top, one facing Sonic and the other facing Amy.

Amy leaned in to sip the milkshake, giving Sonic a look that told him she really wanted him to do so as well. He too leaned forward, taking a sip of the shake as she did.

For a brief moment, Sonic thought about how good the milkshake actually tasted, before his nose bumped into Amy’s and he was pulled out of his thoughts. They both blushed. Amy backed up and looked away while Sonic sat up rigidly in his chair. Sonic then noticed Amy starting to giggle, facing him after a moment.

“I love you.”

Sonic relaxed a little bit, giving Amy a smile.

“I love you too.”

A short moment later, they both went back to sipping the milkshake together. Their noses touched for a second time, but only Amy backed away that time. She smiled bashfully with her lips hovering near the staw, her eyes drifting away. Her attention was caught when Sonic leaned forward more, purposely bumping his nose against hers. Amy couldn’t help but giggle, nuzzling her nose against Sonic’s. Shortly after, he nuzzled back, causing Amy to feel even happier. They continued to share their milkshake.

Sonic set Amy down again, looking up at the building she led him to.

“A movie theater, huh? So, what’re we seeing?”

Both him and Amy began walking in.

“The Violet Nightgown. It’s a captivating love story about an adventurous pilot who crash lands in a small farm town after getting caught in a dangerous storm. As she repairs her plane, she falls in love with a beautiful farmer who warns her of a curse on the town. Everyone who stays there for more than a week is forced to stay there forever. As her days there get closer to seven, she’s forced to choose between staying with the woman she’s grown to love, or flying away and continuing her life of adventure.”

Sonic smirked. “It sounds like you’re quoting the trailer or something.”

They both stopped at the ticket counter.

“That’s because I am.” Amy then turned to the person behind the counter. “Two for The Violet Nightgown, please.”

Once they got their tickets, food, and beverages, they walked into the theatre and found a good place to sit. It was a good thing that they managed to arrive pretty early because it wasn’t long before many other couples walked into the theater as well. After sitting through a seemingly endless barrage of commercials and trailers, the movie finally started.

Not too long into watching the movie, Sonic noticed that he kinda related to the protagonist, a thin white snowshoe hare named Cirrus. She was cool, adventurous, and loved flying around in her plane. It didn’t have a cool name like ‘The Tornado’ or anything, but that didn’t really matter too much. He watched the opening shot of her flying through the air enjoying the wind, until a weird storm starts and a bolt of lightning hits her plane, causing it to crash into a farm town. A little bit later, a strong yellow silkie chicken helps her out of the wreckage, introducing herself as Fennel and asking Cirrus if she was alright. The look they gave each other made it very obvious that they were already falling in love, and Sonic reacted by awkwardly looking away from the cheesy moment of them staring into each other's eyes. He glanced at Amy, who seemed to be eating the moment up. Slowly, Sonic turned his attention back to the screen.

A bit further into the movie, Cirrus was walking around outside at night, despite the warnings that Fennel gave to her earlier. She was investigating some weird noises she heard and saw a bunch of ghosts roaming around the town. Cirrus then noticed one ghost that looked a little different from the others. Instead of a mostly featureless ghost, it was clearly the ghost of a middle-aged mouse woman who wore a violet nightgown. Sonic figured she must be important to the story if what she was wearing was the title of the movie. The ghost ended up chasing after Cirrus, but she managed to escape and run into Fennel’s house where she was staying. This led Fennel romantically comforting Cirrus, which made Sonic awkwardly look away again. Amy still appeared to be enjoying the movie though, which made Sonic smile.

An idea then popped into his head. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around Amy’s shoulders, briefly getting her attention. Despite the low light, Sonic could tell Amy was blushing, but the smile she wore showed him how happy she was about the situation. She leaned against him, letting out a sigh of content as they continued to watch the movie.

Sonic could feel the end of the movie getting closer. Cirrus and Fennel were speaking to an old townsperson, who was telling the story about the woman in the violet nightgown. It turns out that her name was Alison, and she lived in the town before the curse was cast. She was childhood friends with the mayor’s son, a red rooster named Rhubarb, until he left the town in his adulthood to follow his dreams. Alison would have followed Rhubarb, but she had children she had to take care of in the town. Many years later after her children grew up, he came back to spend some time with his father, also spending time with Alison again. At the end of the week though, Alison learned he’d only be there a week and chased after him on the last day at night still in her nightgown. She was too late and he was already way out of town. The old townsperson then said that everyone suspects she cursed the town, because, after that, she screamed about not letting anyone else leave and locked herself in her basement, never to be seen alive again. After hearing that, Fennel informed Cirrus that she knows where Alison’s old house is, and Cirrus says they should check it out. It was very obvious that Sonic was more invested, as he was listening more carefully to what was going on.

A catchy pop song played as the credits rolled, prompting everyone to get out of their seats. As Amy and Sonic walked out of the theater, Amy started a conversation.

“So, what did you think?”

“I thought it was pretty good. How about you?”

“I loved it! You could really feel how much Cirrus and Fennel loved each other throughout the entire movie!”

“Uh… yeah…”

“What was your favorite part?”

Sonic took a brief second to think about it.

“Probably the part where Fennel breaks down the basement door to get to Alison.”

“Really? I think my favorite part was when Cirrus took Fennel on the plane ride out of town at the end. It was so romantic!”

Sonic and Amy threw their empty drinks and food containers in the trash and stepped out of the theater. They both stopped just outside the theater out of the way of the entry doors. An idea came to Sonic as he thought about what Amy said.

“Hmm… How would you like it if I took you for a ride in the Tornado?” Sonic looked off into the distance while thinking out loud. “It’s at Tails’ place right now so we’d have to pick it up, and we wouldn’t have too much time in the air before I’d have to land and bring you home so I can go off to Shadow’s place… uh…”

He glanced back at Amy, her eyes shimmering with excitement and smile one of the brightest he’s ever seen. “So… is that a ‘yes’?”

Amy let out a squeal of delight and rushed toward Sonic, hugging him tightly. Sonic hugged her back with a smile, letting out a small chuckle.

“Alright.” For the third time that day, Sonic scooped her up in his arms. “Let’s go!” He rushed forward, hearing Amy giggle helplessly as he went to pick up the Tornado.

“So how’s this for a romantic Valentine’s Day experience?”

Amy giggled, leaning forward from her seat in the back of the Tornado and giving Sonic a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s perfect.”

“Sweet!”

Sitting back down properly, Amy enjoyed the feeling of the wind blowing through her quills, as did Sonic. He looked around, enjoying the sea of green below him and the sound of air rushing by. He sighed contently, quietly saying to himself, “this is more like it.”

“What?” Amy sounded concerned.

“Huh?”

Sonic jumped, trying to keep his composure in the pilot's seat.

“What did you say?”

“N-Nothing!” Sonic was already terrible at lying, but the thought of making Amy upset at that moment didn’t help.

“It sounded like-”

“It doesn’t matter! Alright?” he interrupted desperately. “Just uh, keep having fun up here.”

“Sonic…”

He let out a whine, knowing that he wasn’t getting out of this.

“It sounded like you said, ‘this is more like it.’ Did you?”

Sonic sighed. “Uh, yeah…”

“So… you didn’t enjoy everything we did today?” There was a clear amount of sadness in her voice.

“No! No. It’s just…” Sonic ears folded back as he hunched down a little in his seat. “I’m just… not really into super romantic stuff…”

“Oh… I just thought that, you know, since you looked all happy while we did romantic stuff together in the past, that you liked it.”

“Well, I like kissing and holding hands and stuff like that, but… romantic movies, poems, and meals… just aren’t really my thing.”

“Oh…”

“Hey uh, I still had fun today. Don’t think that I didn’t.”

“But… how could you? You said you didn’t like that stuff?”

“Well, I don’t really. But, seeing you enjoy yourself, it makes me really happy.”

“Still, you really should’ve told me sooner. I wouldn’t have dragged you into everything if I knew you wouldn’t really like it.”

“Hey, I did like some of it. The poem was sweet, and the food tasted good, and the movie was pretty cool… when it wasn’t being cheesy. I’m glad we did all that stuff. I still had fun, even if I wouldn’t normally like that kind of stuff. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, though.”

“It’s okay.”

“Let’s just enjoy the rest of the time we have together, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for all the fun today, Amy.”

“It was my pleasure, Sonic. And, thank you for the plane ride.”

“No problem.”

Sonic stood with Amy in the entryway to her house, holding hands with her as they smiled together. Gently, Sonic reached to Amy’s waist as she reached to his back, drawing each other closer until only a small gap was between them. Their eyes drifted shut, slowly leaning forward and closing the gap, letting their lips connect in a soft kiss. Sonic released a soft breath through his nose, melting against Amy’s loving touch and pulling her closer. After their lips parted, they continued to hold each other in a calm embrace, enjoying the last few moments they had together that day.

“You know,” Amy spoke softly, “I wouldn’t mind doing stuff like this next Valentine’s Day.” She sighed contently. “It may not be a huge celebration, but, it’s still really nice.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

They gave each other a gentle squeeze before letting go, smiling as their eyes met again.

“See you later.”

“Bye, Sonic.”

With that, Sonic gave Amy one last kiss and ran off to Shadow’s house.

Amy closed the door slowly, hearing it click shut. As she turned around and began walking toward her living room, a weird feeling kept gnawing at her, like she was forgetting something important. She sat down on her couch, trying to figure out what was wrong. The realization hit her like a truck.

“Shadow!”

She immediately got up, pacing around her house in a panic.

“I made him do a bunch of super romantic stuff for Sonic, and neither of them are going to enjoy any of it!”

She quickly pulled out her phone, planning to call Shadow before Sonic got there and rectify the situation. As she got to the contacts page, she remembered something else.

“I FORGOT TO ASK FOR HIS NUMBER AGAIN!”

[cold-stars-with-lemonade]

Dark Dice Fanfiction-”A Burial in the Dead Pines”

“A Burial in the Dead Pines”

By Dean S. Withers

The dried pool of red snow under the hanging weight of flesh made it quite clear that the cadaver’s suffering had long since ended. This did little to soften the sobs of the new widow who watched the body sway in what little breeze the Dead Pines offered. With such sparse moonlight from the skies, sometimes the woman felt as though she’d mistaken the identity of the corpse. It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened in the Dead Pines, as in these days corpses rarely swung alone.

The widow drew back as a large man, a giant borne of ice and steel, strode forward and grasped the dangling corpse. Without a sound, the eight foot tall Goliath gently withdrew a flint axe from his hide-covered torso and swung at the rope holding the body to the tree. The rope snapped and, as the widow tried to glimpse the corpse’s face, the moonlight hid again, and she was left in darkness. 

A strike of flint, and a small flame sprung to life on a torch in the Goliath’s free hand. The flint axe had been tucked back into the Goliath’s robes. The gigantic grey humanoid turned the torchlight carefully over the cadaver’s still face. The widow turned away, her broken heart from recognition providing all the confirmation the giant needed. He slung the cadaver over his shoulder, held out the torch to his left, and began scanning for an easy place to dig. Seeing a possible clearing far ahead, the Goliath lumbered forward with the widow trailing carefully behind him.

As he walked, the Goliath called Kane turned his face away to escape the corpse’s smell. As he walked, his torch revealed the shadow of another body hanging just above him. Kane huffed, and swung his torch to the right, revealing a gap between the trees. Kane began to trod in the new direction, his snowshoes making large prints in the increasingly shallow snow. 

A wink of moonlight unveiled the pines before him, and as the Goliath looked upwards he saw clouds in the shape of the mountains that reminded him of his former abode.

##

Like all Goliaths born in the Coldgrip Mountain range, Kane had three names, two of which were given two names at birth; Kane, his first, and Vaien-Tal, his clan name. The Vaien-Tal clan were renowned hunters, skilled enough at their trade to supply themselves with more than enough food to survive the unstable mountaintop seasons. This secure supply of food allowed the Vaien-Tal to grow to a population of one hundred members--a staggering number considering that the average number for other mountain clans was forty. Within the prosperous Vaien-Tal, Kane was seen as possessing a strong “second sense” for tracking the paths of mountain game (such as snowrams or great eagles). This innate gift of having a hunter’s nose and brain gave Kane great potential in the hunting-focused clan. However, this great potential could only be earned through the fire of Goliath competition. 

Like most Goliaths, Kane was initially fully accepting of the brutal inter-clan world of competition. In the clan, every task, no matter how small, was an opportunity to prove your worth above the rest. For instance, fetching freshwater a footstep faster than a friend made one the best qualified Goliath in the entire clan to transport water. The friend who just made second, on the other hand, would be seen as never being trustworthy enough with getting water again--unless, of course, they managed to be faster the next time. For Kane, every task involving the tracking and slaying of delicious animals was a task to excel at, for excellence in the clan would lead to earning a third name. The third name functioned as a kind of nickname that would demonstrate one’s value within Goliath society. For instance, if one was to be above all others in finding fresh water, the third name “Fastsprings” could be given to them--as could the nickname “Drywell” for the failure of the same. Kane had once had such a socially potent third name. But now, he bore one of shame. 

##

The veiling of the moon by the clouds focused Kane’s mind into the present. He glanced behind him to see the widow struggling to follow him in the shallow snow. The mountain giant was puzzled by this, as his snowshoes seemed hardly necessary in the light snowdrifts, until he swung his torchlight around to get a better gaze on the widow’s attire. The Golaith watched as her silky wet slippers sank into the snow with every step. She was clearly some kind of nobility and was therefore totally unequipped for a lengthy trek in the winter-sieged forest. It was a wonder how she’d made it this far into the Dead Pines at all. The giant recalled her earlier appearance and realized that when she had initially approached him in Illmater’s Hope about cutting her husband down, she had been incognito. Or, perhaps the poor torchlight behind the empty shop had obscured the widow’s wealthy status. 

Wealth. It was such a new concept to the giant. For Kane’s old clan, wealth was comparable only to the skills a clan member could utilize. Money was never used in Goliath society, as banking is rather difficult to conduct in frigid mountaintops, and possession of currency did little to fight off starvation in a world devoid of reliable markets. Here, the exorbitant prices paid for the widow’s current wardrobe did nothing to help her current situation. In contrast, Kane had made his own snowshoes and was prospering as a result. 

Kane watched the noblewoman struggle in the snowdrifts before planting his torch into the snow. After a moment’s hesitation, the Goliath began to untie his snowshoes. They’d be unwieldy for her, but she’d keep up much better shuffling on top of the snow than she would sinking into it. As the first snowshoe came off, the ex-mountaineering giant thought of the implications such actions had borne on him in the past. He’d helped someone else before, albeit someone he’d cared quite deeply about. And that act had cost him. 

##

The hunt that led to his first nickname had begun as any other ordinary hunt for Kane Vaien-Tal. The Goliath had ventured far from the mountaintop in pursuit of a Songhorn elk, and had readied his hunting bow for the kill when he had heard a sharp grunt. His concentration broken, Kane had looked about but seen no other animal besides the elk in the creek below him. Another guttural rasp, and then a clattering of long claws on mountain rocks caused Kane to wheel around just as a two thousand pound Clawbear slammed into him. The Songhorn elk fled as both Goliath and Clawbear were flung down the slope and into the chilly embrace of the mountainside creek. The bear had risen, stabbing its infamous claws into Kane’s side as it opened its maw to bite into the giant’s neck. Kane’s hands released the bow and gripped open the panting jaws of his attacker. Kane’s arms shook as he struggled to push away the Clawbear’s head, while he turned from left to right in search of anything that would break the deadly stalemate. A rough rock girdled by gentle creek waters looked promising, and Kane’s right hand left the bear’s heaving mouth to seize upon the stone. The Clawbear’s maw dropped forward as a result, causing Kane’s left arm to pull down on the bear’s bottom jaw. In a furious attempt to stop the hungry mouth from closing upon his own throat, Kane lifted the rock with his right hand and struck the lower jaw of the bear as hard as he could. The impact broke bone, and the Clawbear tried to stand, sensing that the encounter was going badly for it. 

But Kane was not done. 

The Goliath had smashed the rock upon the bear’s head again and again, until his newly freed left hand found purchase on his handcrafted flint axe. With the axe in one hand and the rock in another, Kane had crushed and sliced at the bear’s great skull until the creek below his feet ran a deep scarlet hue. With the Clawbear bleeding out and gasping for air, Kane took up one of his arrows and thrust it deep into the beast’s beating heart. 

The subsequent return of Kane to the mountaintop with the hide and meat of the Clawbear earned him that precious nickname; Beastbreaker. Kane Vaien-Tal the Beastbreaker had relished in the following celebration of his victory over the literal jaws of death, and in the Vaien-Tal clan’s honoring of him as a hunter that could bring down any predator that stood between him and his kill. 

##

Those had been better times. And now, Kane stood in a forest known only as a home to the dead, helping a widow fit her slim feet into the harnesses of his enormous snowshoes. Once he was done, he turned without one word and trudged deeper into the forest. The Goliath felt the snow rise up and grasp around his ankles; though he was resistant to the cold, continually sinking into the snow would slow him down. And he hated to be slowed.

 Kane bent down to grasp his torch, but upon lifting it saw that it was close to extinguishing. As he reached into his pack to find another, Kane saw something move in the woods, just out of torchlight. 

Kane worked to light another torch as the widow shuffled to a stop behind him. Both now noticed the movement, now a rapid flurry of motion between the trees. The woman started to cry out as Kane lit a fresh torch and brought it as close as he dared to the treeline. 

A small pair of eyes, followed by a pair of long white ears, plopped out of the treeline. A baby rabbit, in full winter coat, squatted upon the snow and stared blankly at the two. Kane gestured for the bunny to leave. The furry creature didn’t budge. When he heard the widow cooing at the fluffy intruder, Kane rolled his eyes. He’d never understood the human affection for small animals. Their furs made for poor coats and their meats produced unsatisfying stews. Nonetheless, anything that boosted the morale of the noble was probably going to be helpful in getting her to keep up with him. 

Kane squatted to get as close as he could to the bunny’s height, and after planting his torch into the snow, reached to gently grasp the mammal by the ears. The rabbit never even twitched as the Goliath handed the bunny to the perplexed widow and motioned for her to continue following him. As he fetched his torch and trodded towards an apparent clearing, Kane recalled how an act of irrational kindness had cost him both his hard-earned clan nickname and his home in the Coldgrip Mountains. 

##

A hunt had been the cause of his rise, so perhaps it was fitting that a similar hunt would be the cause of his abrupt demise. Kane the Bearbreaker had been tracking a Lenar Ram with his younger sister, Sahe the Woundweaver, deep inside the valleys between the Coldgrip Mountains. It had been the warm season, and so both hunter and huntress were using the birds’ changing songs to track their quarry as it tried to escape up to the slopes of another mountain. 

“There,” Kane had remarked, gesturing towards a patch of forest, “hear the Sugarthrush? It is making a mating call. The ram must be the other way.”

“Oh, dearest, the Lenar Ram mimics sounds that will keep it safe,” Sahe had quietly laughed, throwing a glance towards the trees, “and the Sugarthrush does not mate in mountain valleys. Come, the Ram is that way.”

Sahe had been right. After hours of determined pursuit, she was finally in a position to make her first hunting kill off the Vaien-Tal clan’s home mountain. Kane couldn’t have been more proud. But the Lenar Ram was known for its cunning and, realizing it was trapped, used its power of vocal duplication to trumpet out the call of a distressed Clawbear cub. Fortune favored the ram that day, and two large Clawbears had come rushing through the woods to the crafty ram’s aide. By pitting the Goliaths against the Clawbears, the ram managed to make an escape while its natural hunters set their sights upon the other. 

Seeing Sahe as a possible threat to the fictitious wounded cub, the large Clawbears had charged her. Sahe was a powerful Goliath, but was not as experienced with lethal mammals as Kane, and so missed her initial bowshots. Though Kane’s shooting wounded one of the great bears, neither Goliath was able to down the beasts from range before they closed in. Sahe was swift, and was able to avoid the strikes of the first Clawbear, but she could not avoid those of the second. She had screamed as the jaw of the second bear clamped down upon her belly, a sound that Kane would forever wish was never remembered by his ears. His sister was pinned, but not out of the fight, and though a Clawbear bit into her underbelly Sahe still managed to drive a flint knife deep into the mammal’s right eye. 

As Sahe wrestled with the second Clawbear, Kane prepared to battle with the first. The Beastbrekaer’s arms soon felt the sharp pain of his failure to down the creature as the bear’s claws sunk into them. Thrown onto the ground, Kane kicked out furiously against the main body of the Clawbear in a desperate attempt to get the beast off of him. This succeeded in getting Kane distance, distance which he used to bring his flint axe to bear. With one well-placed swing, Kane’s axe cut into one of the bear’s paws, causing the predator to back off from the Goliath. Swinging the axe to keep the beast at bay, Kane took up his bow and, in one swift motion, dropped the axe and notched an arrow. Before the Clawbear could charge again, Kane shot an arrow into the bear’s chest, just  missing its heart. The clawed beast broke off its attack, and wheeled around in a panic, retreating. 

With the first Clawbear routed, Kane turned his attention to Sahe’s struggle with the remaining beast. She had locked her legs around the bear’s neck, and had managed to drive her knife into both of her attacker’s eyes. But the Clawbear’s jaws remained firmly locked around her waist. Kane had rushed toward the bear and, with his bow drawn, shot an arrow directly into its neck. The new angle of attack had caused the bear to release its grip and turn to try to flee. Neither Goliath wished to leave a hunt so injured without a kill to claim, and as Sahe stabbed her flint knife into the bear’s hind quarters Kane had shot an arrow directly into the Clawbear’s backside. The beast had gasped, tumbled forward, then, blinded and bleeding out, hurled itself over the ravine. Soon, the quiet chirp of birdsong returned to the forest. 

Though the Goliaths had triumphed, there was no celebration. Sahe Woundweaver had sustained intense injuries to her abdomen and waist, and could not move without risking further harm. Thankfully, Sahe was a skilled healer, but did not have the components necessary to ensure that she could recover enough to travel home. Her herbs and on-hand bandages were not enough, and Kane’s injured arms made it impossible for him to carry her safely. By all accounts, it had seemed as though at least one of them would not make the trip back to the mountaintop. 

##

Kane’s mind returned to the present, as a clearing in the woods provided the opportunity for him to dig a shallow grave. He went to throw the burdensome cadaver from his shoulders, but then thought of the widow, who was now petting the white rabbit. If she wanted the body buried this badly, she likely wouldn’t react well to any rough treatment of the corpse. The Goliath sighed, gently setting the body onto the snow-covered ground. Without so much as a grunt, Kane reached into his bag and withdrew an iron mattock. Marking out an area of the ground with his mind, the giant motioned for the widow to step back before taking the first swings at the frozen topsoil. Under the efforts of any other creature, perhaps the cold ground could have held. However, Goliaths are not like other creatures, and Kane’s swings soon broke the frozen soil wide open. 

And as he dug in the flickering torchlight, Kane wondered about how if he had been as strong as he is now, if perhaps he could have saved Sahe. Or, more importantly, saved himself. 

##

In any Goliath clan, it is to those that can survive that much is given, and to those who struggle to do so, nothing is provided. If members falter or become a burden to the rest of the clan, they are simply left out in the often-literal cold. Goliath society has always operated under this rule, and the Vaien-Tal clan was far from an exception. Hunters too weak to hunt were not given any meat, as they were expected to either recover their strength by getting a fresh kill or to perish in the process. There was just no room on the mountaintop for those who needed extra help. In the eyes of the Vaien-Tal, and in the eyes of the vast majority of Goliath clans, a badly injured branch is as burdensome and useless as a dead one. In Goliath terms, Sahe was seen as too hurt to help, and therefore she should die alone so as to unburden Kane of her taxing presence. 

Or, at least, she was supposed to have done so, but it turns out that Kane had something of a heart. He loved Sahe, and cherished his companionship with her. Most Goliaths would prefer to hunt alone, but if they couldn’t, they almost always took well-trusted family members with them. This was for one very practical reason; outside of close family members, the ideology of the supremacy of strength amongst mountaintop Goliaths meant that hunting with strangers could become as dangerous as hunting alone. Any sign of weakness or injury could turn a stronger hunting partner into a new predator to avoid. Had Sahe hunted near other members of the clan, perhaps she would have been left to her dreary fate. Had Sahe been someone else, perhaps Kane would have been content to do the same--or worse. But Kane cared for Sahe the Woundweaver, and knew that if anyone could overcome such injuries, it was she. 

Sahe, knowing of her predicament, imparted a crucial secret to Kane. 

“A day’s walk east lies a human house,” Sahe had rasped, “full of things to buy, and trade.”

“How do you know of this,” asked a bewildered Kane, “did you trade with the humans?”

Such a thing was taboo in the Vaien-Tal clan. 

“Yes, Kane,” Sahe admitted, “but there you can barter your labor and coin for herbs that I need. With those medicines, I can heal.”

Kane knew well that such a request meant trading with humans, a taboo of the clan, but given the particular set of circumstances the Beastbreaker would do anything to see his sister become well again. After Sahe Woundweaver gave Kane the single gold coin she had, Kane vowed to her that he would return within nightfall with the medicine she had requested. 

And as Kane departed, his powerful footfalls shaking the ground as he ran to the east, his ears had caught the sound of hungry howls coming from the nearby mountains. Kane was in a race against time. 

##

A sob from the rich widow brought the grey giant out of his memories and back into the present. The grave he had excavated would be more than deep enough for the cold cadaver. Kane stood back and waited, watching for the widow’s signal to throw the corpse into Oblivion. The widow nodded at the Goliath before gently placing the rabbit on the ground, and walking over to the corpse. She bowed her head, and though she sobbed loudly Kane could make out what sounded like a prayer dripping from her lips. After a minute the noble fell silent, then turned away from the corpse and faced the silent forest. 

Without any further fanfare, the Goliath hoisted the corpse over his broad shoulders and tossed it into the fresh grave. The widow had shuddered at the sound of the body falling into the ground, but Kane didn’t notice. As he worked to shovel dirt and snow over the grave’s opening, his mind returned to that fateful day when he’d first encountered the world of men. 

##

Kane had pushed his great body as hard as he could to reach the human trading post by nightfall, but it was dawn by the time the giant arrived. His heavy pounding on the door shook the trader mightily, for when the door opened Kane was greeted with the blade of a hatchet. Raising his bandaged arms to show he meant no harm, the Goliath looked deeply into the quaking human’s eyes and waited for the trader to stand down. She did so, slowly, and after several minutes she spoke to the giant. 

“What’s yer business ‘ere?” she had asked. Kane’s mind had raced to remember what little he knew of Common. 

“I am sick. Family sick. Very sick. Will hunt herbs, from you,” Kane replied. The trader’s frightened expression told him he’d used the wrong verb. 

“Bribe herbs. Er, Buy herbs, from you,” Kane corrected himself. To further his message, the Goliath slowly withdrew a single gold coin. 

“K. What ‘erbs ye need?” the trader inquired. Kane took a deep breath. 

“Feveroot, blue. Mooneye, black.”

The trader scoffed. 

“Those be ‘spensive,” she retorted, jamming a finger at the single gold coin, “fifty gold each.”

Kane didn’t know how to haggle, or how to call a merchant’s bluff. Nor was he terribly adept at counting. The Goliath tried to offer the coin again. 

“No,” the human laughed, “not ‘nough.” Kane thought, then carefully lowered his arms and showed his hands. 

“Will work. Will hunt, for herbs.” He said. But the trader simply shook her head. 

“Price is price. Gold, or begone.” 

Kane did not understand. He had come all this way, and had offered up his strong hands for labor, only to be turned down because he didn’t have little bits of metal. The giant curled his fingers into fists. At the sight of this aggression, the trader had slammed the door shut. 

Alone and desperate, Kane had turned and looked about in the darkness for a glint of metal. But, he didn’t see the tell-tale sign of gold. Instead, he saw a distant campfire. Salvation, perhaps. Or, a source of gold coins. 

Without hesitation, the gigantic humanoid had turned and run towards the distant firelight. 

##

The snap of a distant twig in the forest before him banished the rest of the memory from Kane’s thoughts. The rabbit was back in the noble’s hands, hands that were gently gripping the small mammal in search of warmth. And she held the furry creature, she started to smile.

“You must be hungry,” the widow declared. Her voice caught Kane slightly off guard. He hadn’t expected her to start speaking right after the burial. Then again, perhaps such an act was what was needed to lift her back into normalcy. Into conversation. 

It took Kane a moment to realize she was speaking to the rabbit. 

“Oh, let’s see if I have something for that,” the noblewoman said, rummaging around in a purse under her robes, “oh, that will do, yes. And, um, you sir?”

Kane watched as the widow handed him a small slice of a pear. Not nearly enough to fill his belly, but he’d take it. Although he’d much rather have the rabbit. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” His Common had improved dramatically since he’d been banished from the mountains. Kane quickly ate the slice of pear, observing as the bunny did the same with its own portion. 

“Oh, how is everything,” the human cooed at the snow bunny. 

“I’ve eaten worse,” Kane replied. The widow gave him a look. Kane didn’t quite understand. He’d thought the question was for him. Bunnies cannot converse, after all. 

A moment of silence passed betwixt the two before the woman worked up the courage to talk to the Goliath again. 

“So, Kane, is it? I, well, I just wanted to say thank you,” she began, “for, um, everything. These woods can be quite dangerous, you know.”

“Yes, they can be,” replied Kane, pausing briefly before continuing, “I do not know your name.”

“Oh, Baroness Tabitha of the Westwild Estates,” the noble said, before stopping herself with a smile, “but it’s just Tabitha now, I suppose.” 

“I see. Tabitha,” Kane commented. He continued to search the treeline, but saw nothing. At least, nothing he could confirm as possible trouble. 

“I just--well, maybe you’ve wondered--well, maybe not, but--do you know how he died?” Tabitha asked Kane. The Goliath gently shook his head. 

“Well it’s that damn town, that’s why,” Tabitha continued, “all that hysteria after the children went missing. Well, they say their children went missing months ago. Personally, I think they ran off. I would too if I had those wackjob bumpkins for parents.”

Something in the treeline caught Kane’s attention. The widow continued to talk, to no one in particular. 

“It all started at that damn inn,” Tabitha said, talking in the vague direction of the rabbit, “we were just passing through, and these local sticks kept staring us down, whispering to themselves. Then one of the men started screaming at us, screaming that it was us, my husband, he’d seen my husband in the woods with the children. And I--I couldn’t stop them, and that damn town magistrate wouldn’t stop them.”

There was definitely movement in the treeline. Kane continued to listen to the woman as his right hand found the hilt of his axe.

“That fat bastard was feeding off the hysteria of the town. And so he didn’t stop it, didn’t stop the looting of rope from shops and didn’t stop the, the,” Tabitha began to break down, “didn’t stop the damn lynching of my own husband! Owsald was a lawyer, a man of the law, and that cowshit-eating sheriff of Illmater’s Hope let the mob hang him in those pines like he was a murderer!”

Kane quickly turned to the noble and put a finger to his lips. Tabitha’s sobs stopped as one of his hands enveloped her shoulders. 

“We have trouble,” the giant said. The Goliath quickly gestured to the darkness of the Dead Pines. 

There, a handful of torches were breaking through the darkness, heading to where Kane and Tabitha stood. 

##

Perhaps it was the torchlight in the dark. Perhaps it was the tension of the moment, but Kane’s mind enveloped itself with what had happened after he found that distant campfire on the night of his encounter with the tradeswoman. He had returned to the trading post at dawn, fresh wounds on his arms, and had pounded on the door until it had nearly caved inward. The tradeswoman had returned with her hatchet ready, her guard only dropping at the sight of three bags full of gold pieces. 

Kane had unknowingly paid several times more than what the prepared herbs were really worth, but this mattered little to him. With the medicine in his possession, the Goliath ran back to the valley in the Coldgrip Mountains where his sister Sahe lay. He ran, but a sudden storm had hindered his progress mightily, and it was only at nightfall on the second day that Kane was able to return to her. 

The giant found Sahe Woundweaver in a horrific condition. Around her lay the bodies of scavenging vultures and wolves, each impaled with an arrow from her bow. Sahe had no new injuries, but the old ones had gotten considerably worse; gangrene, the death of flesh, had developed around her midsection, and the fever Sahe was suffering indicated an entrenched infection. Kane had sat beside her and prepared the blue and black herbs as Sahe instructed him to do. When all was finished, Kane had given her the herbs, watched as she ate them, and waited for her to recover. 

She never did. Instead, she entered into a sleep that made her breaths shorter and shorter until there was no breath at all. Had Kane been at all familiar with the ingredients and their manner of preparation, perhaps he would have known that his sister was not concocting a cure. Sahe Woundweaver was instead preparing a tasteless toxin to lull her into a wakeless sleep. She knew by the start of the second day that her wounds were fatal. And Sahe also knew of the Goliath mindset. The clan would never have cared for her, and they would have ejected Kane for doing so. 

For the first time in his life, Kane Bearbreaker had wept. In his mind, he had failed to prepare the ingredients correctly, and had therefore killed her. After his bout with sorrow, Kane rose and collected some of the bodies of the scavengers in an attempt to salvage the rest of the hunt. He would have succeeded had not three armed Goliaths from his own clan arrived and demanded he leave the kills for them. Kane was enraged at this betrayal, but as they say, the strong do what they can, the weak will do what they must. Kane was forced to return home, in utter shame and with no yield from the hunt. 

Days after his shameful arrival home, Kane was brought before the Vaien-Tal clan chieftain for questioning concerning the nature of his last hunting excursion. The Goliath was at first confused about the affair, as family deaths were usually dealt with by family members alone, but the giant chieftain had something else in mind. 

“We have begun to be harassed by bands of armed humans,” the chieftain had told Kane in the harsh tongue of Giant, “in our most precious hunting grounds. Because of this, many great kills have eluded our grasp.”

Kane had continued to kneel before the chieftain, saying nothing. The chief had continued. 

“These humans are not mere peasants growing bold in their own hunts. No, these humans have been ‘deputized’, sent by their law to capture one of our own.”

Kane’s throat had tightened. He had tried to avoid the chieftain’s piercing gaze. But the chieftain wasn’t done. 

“They say one of our hunters slew one of their traders, and stole her gold. They say the gold was used to pay for medicines, to heal a ‘family’ that was ‘sick’.”

The chieftain continued to study Kane’s forlorn expression.

“I have no use for such things. Medicines,” the chieftain spat, “Gold. None of my sons and daughters would kill to keep such valueless things.” 

Kane was starting to shake. The chieftain scowled. 

“But you did.”

Kane looked up sharply at the chieftain, who reached out to display a single, gold coin. 

“This was found where you sleep. Another was found near where the Woundweaver died,” the chieftain snarled, rising to his full height before bellowing a final question, “did you, Bearbreaker, bring such dishonor to the great Vaien-Tal clan?”

Silence fell from Kane’s mouth. Then, a whisper. 

“Yes,” Kane said. The chieftain turned from Kane, spat, and raised an arm towards the forests in the west. 

“Take your shame, and depart. I will neither deliver you to nor protect you from the humans,” the chieftain commanded, “do not return, or you will meet death.” 

And so Kane, emblazoned with the shameful nickname of Coinbleeder, had found himself thrust into the strange world of men. 

##

That was many years ago. Since then, Kane had been broken into the world of wealth and gold. To buy supplies, he needed money, and to earn money, he did odd jobs in the shady parts of the human Crown. Lifting things, breaking things, digging things up. Like prey on the hunt, he’d track one job down after another, until he had found himself in the town of Illmater’s Hope. And from Illmater’s Hope, he had found himself digging a grave in the Dead Pines. And in the Dead Pines, in this frosty present, Kane had found himself facing down a small mob of armed townsfolk in the dead of night. 

“It’s them! That damn mob,” wailed Tabitha, clutching the rabbit to her chest, “they’ve come for us!” 

They came indeed, trampling out of the dark woods and, by following the large footprints Kane had made in the snow, advanced directly for the large moonlit Goliath. The giant turned to face the bobbing torches of the hungry mob, an iron mattock in one hand and a handaxe in the other. Tabitha quickly moved behind Kane as the mob drew close, taking the bunny with her. 

The violent crowd tumbled into a stop several yards away from where Kane stood, tools ready in each hand. After a moment of confusion, a single voice howled out of the mob. 

“It’s them! They’ve buried him! They’ve buried my son!” 

“Mine too,” another voice called from deep within the bobbing torches, “they’ve buried him alive! He’s here, he’s here!”

Similar calls tainted with hysteria and panic shook apart the fragile silence of the night. Kane could feel the tension snapping, boiling, lunging out from the crowd towards him. 

The mob began to encircle the Goliath and the widow, forming into a small forest of sickles and shovels that stabbed towards the clouds in the cold night sky. Tabitha started to cry as she clutched onto the bunny. 

Kane looked around him, trying to discern the strength of the mob. They had many weapons, but they appeared crude and better suited for farming. A good portion of the mob was emaciated, but the adrenaline rush they were getting would make them dangerous if they attacked. 

The giant took a deep breath, and bellowed out to the mob with a voice like a mountaintop trumpet. 

“We found one! We found one of the children!”

The mob rapidly fell silent. Kane took in another great breath, and continued. 

“We buried him here,” Kane declared, eyeing the tenuous stillness of the crowd, “the son of this woman was found dead!” 

Tabitha continued to cry, clutching the now shaking rabbit in her arms. 

“We laid him to rest,” Kane continued, keeping his weapons brandished, “now go, all in peace! Let the child lay in rest.”

The mob said nothing in response. Then, a voice sprung from the very front of the crowd. 

“Proof a’ this, mm?” cackled a peasant with a rusty sickle, “I want proof!” 

The mob began to move again, voices raising in agreement with the outspoken peasant. Kane looked towards Tabitha for inspiration. The noblewoman sprung into action, hoisting the rabbit over her head. 

“Here, you rascals,” she howled, “this is proof! How else could something so wild be so tame?”

Some in the crowd began to back off. After all, most of them had never tamed a wild animal. The lie was working. Torchlights began to turn back towards the Dead Pines. 

“Oh, what a pack ah lies,” crowed the same peasant, stepping forward with sickle in hand, “what you’ve really got down there, hmm?”

The energy of the mob began to return. 

“Oi, that’s her! The wife of the child-thief!” someone cried out. The peasant with the sickle eyed Tabitha before rapidly nodding in agreement. 

“Aye, lies, lies! They’ve got the children! They’ve got them,” howled a woman at the edge of the crowd. The torches and sickles began to close in again. Tabitha began to plead with the mob, but their advance did not halt. 

Kane took in a breath, holstered his axe, and seized the nearest member of the crowd by the neck. With one swift motion, he hoisted the squirming peasant over the roiling mob’s torches. 

“Do you know who I am?”

The crowd froze at the thunder of Kane’s voice. Only the desperate gasps of the entrapped peasant broke the silence. 

“I am Beastbreaker, of the Vaien-Tal clan,” roared the Goliath, “and I have broken many beasts in my time.”

Not a soul in the crowd moved. 

“Touch this woman or her mammal,” growled Kane, staring into the wide eyes of each and every peasant, “and I will break every one of you as I shall break this man.”

With one strong motion, Kane slammed the captive peasant into the ground with a deafening crack. The man lay still. Broken. 

“Lies,” called out a voice, “we ain’t scared o’ you!”

But the voice was wrong. Kane’s demonstration was enough to cow the crowd into submission. The mass of torches hurried back into the Dead Pines, toward the safety of Ilmater’s Hope. 

Within minutes, the mob was gone. All that remained was the dead body of the peasant and the footprints of the crowd in the snow. 

Tabitha sighed, and gently set the bunny down. 

“I suppose I should thank you, again,” the noblewoman began, glancing in the direction of the town, “but we clearly can’t go back that way.”

“No. We cannot,” concurred Kane. 

“So, I’d like to propose an arrangement. You escort me to the next village, and I can pay you double what I’ve promised.”

Kane nodded, and gestured toward the body of the peasant. 

“Shall we bury him?”

Tabitha paused, looking over the broken mane’s frame. She sighed, and looked up at Kane. 

“Yes,” she declared, “it’s only proper. He likely has family, after all.”

Kane chuckled. Tabitha cocked an eyebrow at the Goliath. 

“I knew of one who would have said the same,” Kane said, as he reached for his iron mattock to dig a new grave. 

“Oh, really? Can you tell me more about him,” Tabitha asked, stooping down to pick up the rabbit, “on our journey to the next town?”

“Her, and yes, I can,” Kane replied, swinging his mattock through the snow, “I can tell of Sacha the Woundweaver.”

“Well,” Tabitha said while staring up at the twinkling night sky, “I’m looking forward to hearing about her.” 

Kane continued to swing with the mattock, cleaving through snow and soil with relative ease. He marveled at the tool before him, as it was an item he would never have hoped to wield in his old wealthless mountaintop home. 

The Goliath stopped at the sound of Tabitha’s cooing, and looked up to see her feeding the rabbit another piece of a pear. What an odd mammal for a human to befriend. Bunnies could never talk, for instance. And humans could never hop. And yet, their friendship seemed endearing. 

Perhaps there was something of value in the new things of this world after all. 

END

Word count; 6537

[aghostintheforest]

At complete random, 15, 73, 4, 90, and 27

weird asks that say a lot!

15. favourite book you read as a school assignment?

i suppose the blue helmet, but looking back there is a lot of questionable material in that book.... mostly regarding the old white guy living outside the GTA writing a book about inner city youth violence and the perils of mental illness.... 

73. favourite weird flavour combo?

..... peanut butter, banana, soft boiled eggs, onion...... 

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

quiet, good at writing... this isn’t entirely to do with this question, but i just remembered that in grade five i submitted tale of desperaeux fanfiction for an english assignment.... so that happened.

90. luckiest mistake?

....

27. favourite activity to do in cold weather?

EVERYTHING!! life is so much better in the cold, when there isn’t pollen everywhere and i can breath!!!! hiking, skiing, talking to trees, snowshoeing, taking pictures, drawing birds, just, everything!! let me outside when i can breath!!!!!!!!!!

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Hot Headed, Cold Hearted- Chapter 3 (A Meihem Fanfiction)

Mei knew how to move swiftly over the ice. She had, after all, traversed miles of Antarctica on foot whilst dragging the only supplies she had left in the world. She knew how to disperse her weight, how to walk with skis and snowshoes, and the subtle tactile differences between a packed snowbank and weak slush. Bastion had cleverly switched out its feet for its tank treads, and dutifully trailed after her, whirring and clanking. The junkers were having a bit more trouble, just as she had predicted. Roadhog was simply a heavy man, and no matter where he stepped, he sank down until he was practically wading waist-deep as he struggled forward. Junkrat did more complaining than anything, walking behind Hog in the trenches that his bodyguard’s wide form made in the snow. “You’re doing great, Mr. Roadhog!” Mei tried at her usual cheerful encouragement, though she was never really sure if it had any effect on the usually silent pig-masked man. She walked just in front of him, guiding him towards the more relatively cleared streets of the town just up ahead. “Just try taking smaller steps, keep your feet flat. I know it’s not like walking over sand, but you’re almost there! See? We’re almost to the streets. There’s the post office, I think that’s a diner, and…oh?…” Roadhog stopped to catch his breath, wheezing noisily and nearly bending double as Junkrat popped up like a prairie dog behind him. “What’s oh?” Her glasses were starting to fog a bit, wiping them quickly before reaching into her coat and pulling out a brochure. “Well I thought that was the Tentpeg Inn. But…Wait, is it?” She unfurled the pamphlet, ignoring the little white flakes landing on the paper as she glanced it over. The brochure showed a charming northern lodge, brightly lit up yellow and orange on the blue of the snow in an artfully done photo. There were pictures of moose heads over roaring fires, a group of people laughing and holding steaming mugs, and photos of large beds piled high with cozy quilts and fluffy pillows. “Tentpeg Inn,” she read aloud. “Escape to a slice of heaven. Resort lodging for winter lovers and outdoor enthusiasts everywhere…” When she looked up again, the building up ahead actually did resemble the inn from the photos…if it had been aged or possibly abandoned for the last twenty or so years. The main lodge looked weather-beaten and run down, with peeling paint, several boarded windows, and a hanging sign with the chain broken on one side, twisting and squeaking in the wind. Most of the cabins from the photos were gone, and one looked to have recently burned down, standing as a blackened and charred wooden skeleton amidst the white, while the others were nearly as dilapidated as the main inn itself. The only signs of life were a lit up ‘VACANCIES AVAILABLE’ sign in the window. Junkrat burst into giggles. “Resort lodging? What a dump! Reminds me a bit of home, actually.” He shivered unhappily as another breeze whipped past them, hugging himself in both arms. “The dump’s fine. Sure, whatever, can we just get inside!”

The main roads of the town were a little easier to traverse, a few plow drones zooming past them and paying them no mind even when Snowball tried to beep a hello. The handful of people she saw, huddled into their coats and their heads down, also paid them no mind. It seemed that the weather had managed to best that famous Canadian politeness she’d heard so much about, and there was barely even a glance their way as they traveled up the squeaking snow-buried steps of the Tentpeg Inn, as Junkrat was possessed by a sudden rush of adrenaline and darted past them all once more, slamming open the doors and hurrying inside. The inside was about as well-maintained as the outside. The wallpaper was peeling and there were cobwebs up in the wooden beams. The roaring hearth turned out to merely be a shoddy hologram of a fire set in front of a basic heating unit, and while the moose head from the pictures was there, it was covered in dust. The couches in the lounge were stained and lumpy, in one corner was a bucket nearly full of water from a leak in the roof, and there was nobody at the front desk. But at least it was warmer inside, and the junkers sighed audibly in relief as they stamped snow from the boots, and Bastion made an attempt to run its treads back and forth over the welcome mat as Ganymede peeked out from under its hat. Junkrat grumbled under his breath about the weather before brightening at the sight of the service bell on the empty countertop, and before Mei could think to stop him, he went and slammed his palm down on it several times. Ding! Ding! DingdingdingdingdingDINGDINGDINGDING! “Ghrmm!” Roadhog reached out and snatched Rat’s arm away, giving him a stern shake. “Yeah, coming!” A voice sounded from the little office behind the front desk, and a young man who couldn’t have been any older than Junkrat and was nearly as scrawny appeared in the open doorway, not looking particularly thrilled to see them. He did wear an official bellhop uniform, which Mei thought looked even sillier compared to the squalor all around them. He snapped his gum in a rather obnoxious manner before sidling up to the computer behind the counter. “You must be the appointment at 6:00? You’re late.” Roadhog stared the attendant down through the blank lenses of his pig mask, his huge hand still gripping his younger partner’s arm. With a snorting wheeze, he responded with a low, “…Barely made it through the rush.” Mei gave both junkers a little pleading ‘please behave’ look before digging in her  pack, producing her ID. “Only a little bit late. We have the two room suite? It should be registered under Zhou Mei-Ling.” “Mm-hm.” The attendant didn’t even bother looking at it, typing something into the computer before shuffling through a stack of key cards. Selecting one, he motioned for them to follow him, down the hall and past rows of locked and numbered doors as Roadhog absent-mindedly dragged Junkrat on the floor behind him, still hanging by his arm and for some reason not even seeming to mind. They were lead to their room, and Mei’s heart sank as the door opened. It smelled faintly of mold, and lemon air freshener trying to cover that mold, and there was a single large bed in the center. Crammed in next to the bed were two army cots and a pile of blankets. When the door opened, the hokey fireplace hologram on the far wall sputtered to life, but only served to throw eerie shadows across everything. Mei turned upon the attendant, hands on her hips. “This can’t be right! I reserved a two room suite!” The young man shrugged and pulled at his uniform, gesturing to the bedroom, then to the open bathroom door. “One room. Two rooms.” “What? The bathroom isn’t a room! I have traveled all over the world and this has never been the case!” “I don’t make the rules, all right? You’re the one who arrived late and lucky to get a room at all. Plus, you didn’t say you’d be bringing pets, the little drone and the bird will have t-” the attendant started to say, before Junkrat rose up suddenly behind him. Mei recognized the look on the junker’s face, saw him starting to unwrap the cloth-bundled package that she knew held his precious frag launcher. The attendant stiffened slightly and froze, his jaw hanging open where he was about to pop his gum. “Oi,” Junkrat said, leaning down over him. “Where’s all that Canadian hospitality I heard about? That’s not at all how you speak to nice ladies like Mei. Roadie, what is it we do with rude little cunts like this, back in Oz?” Roadhog uttered a guttural rumble that did not sound friendly. Mei hurried forward, holding up both hands. “No! No, everyone stop! Both of you stop that! Jamison, put that away right now. You know that’s not how we do things. Okay? This will be…fine. We can make it work, this is fine. I think everyone’s just a little cranky from traveling, why don’t we all just…settle in for the evening?” She kept her eyes on the lanky junker until she was sure he wasn’t going to blow the place up, and the attendant quickly stumbled away from him. Physically grabbing onto the front of his bellhop uniform before he could protest, she herded him quickly away from the others and almost pushed him out the door before shutting it in his face. Slumping against the door with a muffled thud, she frowned at the dreary little room before her. “This is really not how this place was advertised at all…” Junkrat shrugged, scratching at his chin. “Well, let’s just open up the one next door?” He gestured to the wall and Mei noticed that there was a door where the room had once been joined with the one next to it. So it had been a two-room suite at one point. Still, she protested half-heartedly. “We can’t just go around vandalizing the place. Or threatening to blow up bellhops! Even if he was really rude and I probably should have said something…We still have a no explosions rule in effect and I’m not jeopardizing the science division so soon. We’re here for a nice, peaceful recon mission.” Her eyes darted slightly to the side and she coughed a little, taking off her glasses and wiping them on her shirt. “Still, I did pay for two rooms. Maybe we can just check next door, very quietly?” “Ugh, I’ll never get you lot and your obsession with ‘doing things quietly’. If something’s worth doing, it’s worth exploding, I always say. Arright, Roadie, get the door. Quuuiiiieeettllyyy,” he emphasized, with an overexaggerated holding up one metal finger by his shushing lips. “Sssshhh.” Roadhog moved to the little connecting door, wrapping one huge fist around the knob. With a single wrench to the side, the locking mechanism (and the whole doorknob itself) shattered. Swinging it open, the group was hit with the smell of rotten wood, mold, and a blast of cold air and white flakes. The other room was no longer really a room, with an enormous hole in the wall that exposed it to the elements, and the ragged furniture was covered in a sheet of ice and snow. Roadhog pulled the door shut firmly with a slam, then shoved a chair up under the broken doorknob, turning to look down at Mei and shrug. “…I can sleep on the floor.” “What is wrong with this place! Nobody’s sleeping on the floor!” Mei said firmly. “Oh um…except you, Bastion. Unless you want a cot too?” “Doot-doot,” the omnic replied, shaking its head. “Roadhog can take the bed, Jamie and I will take the cots.” “How am I supposed to root you silly on a cot?” Junkrat scowled, ignoring her sudden and very pointed look at the question. “S’not going to be very comfortable for either of us. And with all of us stuck in one room. I mean, I know you don’t care, Roadie, but I’m not gonna do it with the bots watching us, probably recording us with their secret spy cameras!” Bastion shook its head again, eyelight going a little angry. “Dee-dee-woot! Bweep beep?!” Snowball’s emoticon eyes darted from side to side, seeming strangely nervous before hiding behind one of the bags and not answering the accusation. Mei closed her eyes for a moment of much-needed serenity, hissing a breath. “Nobody!…Is going to be watching anything. Or doing anything. Or just…anything! Nobody do anything until we head out tomorrow. I’m sure we can survive one night in this place. It’s better than camping outside, even if not by much.” Taking up her bags in both arms, she went to dump them onto the cot furthest from the door, feeling a little sour as she began sorting through her things. “And when I get back I am leaving the most scathing review I can think of. One star! Maybe zero stars! If they allow zero stars!” “Yeah! Yeah, zero stars! That’s my girl, fight the power!” Junkrat cheered. Roadhog sighed. Despite her foul mood at the state of the inn, the night had not been completely unpleasant. She was always surprised at what good company the junkers could provide, even with Junkrat’s hyperactivity confined in such a small space, spinning endless wild tales about their time in exile or their great heists across the world. They had vetoed the idea of the diner if it meant going back out in the cold again, and instead sat eating pre-packaged meals, watching television and sitting in front of the fake fireplace as darkness fell early and the wind howled outside. Junkrat had made several attempts at staking his claim on the only bed in the room, until Roadhog had firmly picked him up and bodily dropped him onto the floor, leaving him to crawl back to his cot while Snowball trilled gleeful laughter at his defeat. Bastion spent the evening tucked into the corner of the room, its legs drawn up again and looking out the window as Ganymede nested in its hat. “Dunno how you stand it, love,” Junkrat grumbled, pulling another quilt on top of him as he struggled to get comfortable on the cot, his single foot draping off the end and forcing him to don two pairs of socks for warmth. The metal posts squeaked audible as he twisted and turned, trying to find a position where he could fit on the cot, stay under all the blankets, and also drape his arm over the woman next to him. “Had some unpleasant nights in the Outback, I’ll give you that. But this ice stuff is for the birds. I’d much rather be hot and sweaty than…” He paused, seeing an opening. “Heh, hey Mei, speaking of hot and sweaty, we could always-” “I knew you were going to say that. Why do you have to turn everything into an innuendo?” groaned the little figure under her own pile of blankets next to him. “I’m good at it! I’m good at a lot of things; innuendos, blowin’ things up, planning heists, finding things, breathing, shoplifting, eating…” She fell asleep soon after, with Roadhog’s steady baritone breathing and Junkrat’s mindless soft chatter lulling her to meaningless dreams. ***

“Mei!” Her eyes shot open, her chest tight from the weight of the blankets and the room dark and stifling, the lights from the hologram of the fire never reaching into its shadowed corners. She couldn’t have been asleep for very long, and she wasn’t particularly happy to be woken up so abruptly. Groaning softly, she rolled on the uncomfortable cot hammock, stirring under her covers, voice thick with sleep. “Jamie…I said later…” “Mei! It’s doin’ something!” A cold metallic finger prodded her in the side and she groggily sat up, staring blearily at the single glowing eyelight of Bastion as it sat in the corner. Hog must have been awake too, as his breathing changed and he rolled a little on the bed to face it as well. Her eyelids were still crusted with sleep as she watched it blearily, but it didn’t move, and she was about to give Junkrat an earful for waking her up, when the Bastion unit lifted its head and began chiming softly. That wasn’t anything unusual, as it communicated almost entirely through beeps and chirps. But there was something different about it this time, something about the way its eyelight flashed and the series of tones sounded dull and mechanical, unlike its usual cheer. Even in her sleep-fogged mind, she recognized it as the tune it sang whenever it had been asked about the mysterious spot out in the woods. “What’s it up to, then? Why’s it sound all creepier than normal? Want me to make it shut up?” Junkrat whispered next to her. She rubbed at her eyes, pulling on her glasses and her yeti slippers as she pushed the blankets aside. “It’s…I’m sure it’s fine. Maybe it’s dreaming? Or something like dreaming?” She didn’t want to admit that the way it was acting really was a bit creepier than normal, the way it made a low grinding noise before the beeping tune started over again. Deciding it was best to be cautious, she lifted her voice to alert it to her presence before trying to touch it. “Bastion! Bastion, wake up!” It turned its head to her, clearly already awake, and cut its song off mid-beep. “Dwoop?” “Bastion, what’s that song you keep singing? The one you were singing just now? It’s just um…It’s really late, is everything all right?” Its eye flickered before it turned back to the window and pointed out into the darkness. Junkrat, clad in his smiley-face boxers and swaddled in several blankets, came up next to her, cupping both hands to peer against the glass and trying to peer through. “Roooiiiight, because that shit’s not creepy at all or anything! Too dark, can’t see nothing out there, anyway. Think there’s some sort of creeper out in the snow or something playing Sing-Along with the bot?” “Bastion, is something out there?” Mei tried again. “Is someone out there?” It pointed out the window again. Frowning, she hurried back to her cot and started pulling on her clothes. “Where are my boots? Snowball, put on your lights and come help me take a look.” “Hold on a blinkin’ minute, love. It’s creepy and cold out there, don’t want you out with some weird bot-singing wendigo.” Junkrat’s arms encircled her as usual, pulling her to his bare chest and trying to encase her in the blanket cocoon with him. “Or at least give us some time to get the guns ready. Roadie, stop sitting there and do something useful for once, put your stuff on!” “Hmm…” Roadhog grumbled, rubbing at his mussed white hair as he hefted upright. “I’m just looking around and Snowball will be with me,” Mei protested, trying to squirm out of his serpent-like grip. As with any squirming prey, his grasp only tightened as she struggled. “You can stay here, I’ll be right back.” “Oi! Science team safety rule! Never go anywhere alone! That’s the buddy system right there, darl. Try to avoid going out at night unless there’s an emergency, always bring a map. Take only pictures, leave only footprints.” She paused, staring up at him. “Wait, did you actually read the science safety books I gave you?” “Nah, I just overheard you say real responsible shit like that all the time. But it’s a dark, frozen hellscape out there and the wind’s blowin’ and it was probably that shitty little bellhop guy or someone anyway. Let’s just check it out in the morning on the way out. Also I uh…I really, really don’t wanna go out in that.” Mei responded with a frustrated look but stopped struggling inside his blankets, turning to give the windows a worried glance. “I guess it would be safer to wait until we have daylight. Bastion, could you close the curtains until we figure this out in the morning. And I want us taking turns staying awake so someone’s on watch. Just in case.” The omnic quietly pulled the string as the ragged curtains squeaked shut, and they all retreated back to their respective beds as Junkrat turned on a shopping network channel and volunteered for first watch. And that was how she awoke a few hours later, with the complimentary coffee pot burbling away, the hushed sounds of Roadhog in the shower, and Junkrat shaking her to tell her it was getting light out, covering her face and forehead with relentlessly annoying smack-lipped kisses until she squealed and sat up. “Got the coffee pot workin’ after a bit of tinkering! Gotta have a cuppa, first thing.” He shoved a mug in her hand, then turned and immediately started drinking straight out of the pot. “Woods are still pretty creepy even when you can see, but it stopped snowing and I don’t see any footprints or anything weird out there. S’just…white? Oh, and your bot’s doing the thing again.” Bastion’s eyelight flashed and once more it chimed that same tune as it was folding a pile of coats and sweaters, Ganymede hopping back and forth across its shoulders. “Maybe it thinks it’s a radio? Sometimes bots used to go haywire down in the pits, back in Junkertown? They kind of thrashed around for a bit, just started playing bits of memories or recordings going backwards or just static, ‘til someone came and put ‘em down the rest of the way. Then everyone would cheer and they’d get another one for the fighters to bash around. Until they ran out, anyway. The old bots used to put up more of a fight, new ones ain’t worth bettin’ on,” Junkrat mused, taking another gulp of steaming coffee. “Anyway, if an appliance is giving out, just give it a whack until it works again, or get a new one. Just scrap it and get the dwarf man to make a better one!” Mei gave him a horrified look. With his jovial personality, sometimes it was easy to forget the sub-civilization conditions the junker really came from. “Don’t say things like that, please. They don’t make ones like it anymore and E-54 isn’t like the other Bastions anyway. You can’t just go get a new one. It’s our friend.” “You mean it’s your friend. I’m tellin’ ya, darl, you should just-” Before things could descend into another argument, the door swung open and steam billowed out, sweeping over the both of them. Roadhog’s enormous figure was slowly revealed amongst the mist, wearing nothing but his mask and a set of towels that he had tied together to make one larger towel, which still didn’t quite reach all the way around his wide gut. He stood there for a moment, cutting an intimidating figure despite his limp mane of silver hair and the droplets clinging to his leathery, scarred hide, before announcing calmly, “I broke it.” “The whole shower is broken? You know, in this place, I’m not even surprised. I don’t thiiiIIIINK-” Her voice rose to a yelp as Roadhog strode across the room and simply let his towel drop to the floor, to start dressing. Mei whirled away from him, shielding her eyes with one hand and her face burning red. “Okay! Ahem. I don’t think anything works in this place and I am not paying for repairs to this dump. Let’s just check out and leave, the sooner the better.” The bags were swiftly packed and the group of misfits started back down the hallway, leaving a broken mess behind them that for once Mei did not care whether it got fixed or not, so long as they didn’t try to bill her for it. At least the rude bellhop from before wasn’t present, though the older woman who had taken his place didn’t seem much better. She was idly watching television and again, did not pay them much mind beyond a nod and a mumble when they dropped off the key to the front. At least, until Bastion paused while re-stacking the suitcases it was holding, once more chiming that mechanical tune. Mei saw the woman do a double take, eyes widening very slightly as her attention turned to the robot. “Oh! Oh no…You may want to turn your bot friend off for a while until you get a good distance away from here. Just a suggestion. I don’t know if it works, but it’s worth a shot.” Bastion tilted its head at her and beeped curiously, and Mei bit her lip with a little squint. “What do you mean? Is something wrong?” “Well, I’ve been living in this town for near on forty years now. I don’t know if you read up on Tentpeg before you came here, but we’ve always had a rash of omnic disappearances. Us and the nearby towns. Everything from lumber-cutters to waiter service bots, here one day and gone the next. But I think they all started playing that same song that yours just played, just now...” She eyed the robot with a bit more sympathy. “Poor thing.” Bastion pointed at itself in a ‘Who, me?’ sort of motion before trilling a set of low notes, seeming a little more unsure as it hugged the suitcases to its chest. Mei’s brows furrowed. “The other missing omnics? They were all playing a song?” The woman at the counter nodded, leaning on her elbows as she still regarded Bastion with idle interest. “Mm-hm. That exact same little song yours played just now. I can remember hearing it a few times, always that same little tune. They up and start playing that tune and you know it’s the end already. Sometimes they’d find a few tracks leading out into the woods but they never managed to follow any of them very far. And then you just never see them again.” Bastion blinked its light, looked down and uttered what Mei almost could have sworn was a curse. “O-doo-doo.”

[photowizard17]

I like when someone wants someone else to ask him/her so, would you like to answer these questions? I don't like the 'short answers' so you can say anything you want, the questions are: 2/4/9/13/16/21/22/24 especially( 27). :-)

HI! Ok so I knowthese asks were sent like a week ago and I apologies for the late response, butI wanted the answers to be accurate and in depth because you guys took the timeto ask! All of them are in the same post because a lot were duplicates.

So, thanks for asking... here we go!

Thank you again @lightning1999, @argentis and @glowing-coils-of-the-universe

1.    if someone wanted to reallyunderstand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to? So if someone really wanted to understandme and my strange little brain they should probably read my fanfiction. Myfanfics show them my writing style, parts of my personality and my interests.They would of course have to watch the Thunderbirds because I swear it is all Italk about, well that and funny animal videos! I got my dad watching them lol.As to that they would have to listen to… probably everything. Like peopletalking around them, the sounds of birds, cars, electronics. I am a veryobservant person so when I am out in public I pay attention to everything. Itend to notice things others don’t.

2.    have you ever found a writer whothinks just like you? if so, who? I did a while back, sadly I don’t remember theirhandle, the plot was well thought out and detailed, which I enjoy. And I havemet people who think like I do. They see things differently. It is veryinteresting.

3.     list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with. Well fandoms, guess what’s first!Thunderbirds: Virgil. I feel like I identify with Virgil because he is verycaring and artistic. Which I would like to think I am. He would give anythingfor anyone, he is also very detailed oriented which I am as well. And I love him.

Anotherfandom would be The Flash, and I probably identify with Caitlyn most. She hastwo sides of herself, one side no one really knows, and the other dominant sidewhich everyone is familiar with.

A third fandom is Pacific Rim and I think Iidentify with Mako the most because she is underestimated and sets up tochallenges presented to her. She is very loyal and very a very independent thinker.

My fourth fandom would be MARVEL and I mean thereare so many characters how do I chose? Well if I had to I would choose either CaptainAmerica or Lady Sif. Both underestimated and want to do the right thing. Evenif they are not sure what the right thing is anymore.

4.    do you like your name?  isthere another name you think would fit you better? I do like my name. I find it veryfitting. Although I have always liked the name Mel, not Melody or Melony, justMel. She was a character in Digata Defenders and I loved her when I wasyounger.

5.    do you think of yourself as ahuman being or a human doing? do you identify yourself by the things you do? Kind of confusing but I will tryto answer… I believe for now I am a human being, just because I am young I havenot come to realize how I change and become a doer. I do stand by the things I do,if someone is being rude, I fight back, someone needs help, I help. I don’tbelieve in hiding who you are because you won’t have the full life experience youwant if you always have to hide a part of yourself.

7.    do you care about your ethnicity?I don’treally care, but I do care. I know what background I am, but I don’t know muchabout the history of my people (French and Scottish). I know more about my Scottishside because I Highland Dance, and I know a bit about my French side because I usedto live in Ontario, but to me it is not the ethnicity that makes my familyimportant, it is the people in the family. I actually rarely think about myhistorical background, and I only mention it when it is privy to aconversation.

9.    are you an artist? I would like to think so… Idabble in computer generated art and I try to draw, but mostly I do little claysculpture and tiny meticulous things like robotics. And if writing counts as anart than I am an avid writer and take great pride in my work!

11.  describe your ideal day. An ideal day to the lazy teenager inside me would beto get up and do nothing… but I guess I would wake up late morning, have a hotchocolate, scroll through my feed, email, messages, etc, then I would probably havesome lunch and spend the afternoon doing something with my family. In the eveningI would then do Sculpey (clay) or write or attempt to draw.

13.  inside or outdoors? I do enjoy both. I grew up where in the summer you would go swimming andhiking and in the winter you would ski and snowmobile and go snowshoeing. So Ido enjoy being outside doing things, doesn’t matter what. Although I do likethe idea of sitting inside wrapped in a blanket with a hot drink and a show orfanfic.

15.  five most influential books over your lifetime. Sadly I don’t read that much…but I would have to say Meg Cabot’s School for Teenage Spies series was veryinfluential. It taught me how a young woman could accomplish great things withthe proper training.

Other than that Goodnight Moon, the kids book,still influences me today. When I lived in Ontario my grandmother lived inAlberta, and every night she would phone me and read me this book. Then whenshe was in hospital I read it to her, and she read it to me when I was in thehospital. Even today, because my grandma grew up in a household that didn’treally say ‘I love you’, we say Goodnight Moon whenever we hang up or I leaveher place.

16.  if you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d haveturned out the same? If thisquestion means like nature environment, I think personality wise I would be thesame, but I don’t know if I would enjoy the same things. Like the freshlyfallen snow in the morning or those cold frosted trees, or the heavy rain thatmade you realize how weird and wonderful the world is.

17.  would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”? Yes, I can honestly say it doesbecause everyone knows that on Tumblr there are no boundaries. You get toexpress who you are with no shame. Although to be fair I don’t hide who I am onany of my social media sites. You can see by these answers :P

19.  which Harry Potter house would you be in? or are you a muggle? I don’t know Harry Potter but Ihave been called a Hufflepuff? And I just like that name.

21.  do you love easily? I do… I am a very naive person and I am very caring so I tend to investeverything I have into relationships, hoping to keep them alive, only to find outmost of the time the other person doesn’t feel the same way. Relationshipsbeing friend or potential love interest seeing as I have never had a bf. But there are those few who care just as much as I do

22.  list the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order.

1.Daydreaming, by far the thing I spend the most time on.

2. Probablythinking about or doing something pertaining to the Thunderbirds, kind of fitsin with the daydreaming thing.

3. Creating, either writing or sculpting ordrawing.

4. Watchingvideos… I have a lot of spare time on my hands

5. Mostlikely doing something else on my phone.

23.  how often would you want to see your family every year? With my immediate family (mom,dad, grandma) I am very close, so I would want to see them as often aspossible. I see my grandma about once ever week or so but I talk to her a lotmore than that and I would like that to continue if  I ever decide to moveout. :P

25.  could you live as a hermit? If that means alone… probably not for long. I enjoycertain human interaction, so as long as I am with the right people. Other peopleannoy me, most people annoy me… anyway...

27.  do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the“real you”? Yesbecause I don’t wear certain cloths to fit in, I don’t wear makeup to look overlyattractive and I don’t pretend around people. I dress for practicality and eventsand I don’t change who I am to feed the needs of the people around me. To quotePeggy Carter from Agent Carter, “I know my worth, anyone else’s  opinion doesn’t really matter.”

28.  three songs that you connect with right now. I don’t really feel like Iconnect to music, I just like music. If that makes sense. I don’t feel and emotionalattachment with music other than the odd motivational songs or just reallyupbeat songs. So I guess those songs would be Warriors by Imagine Dragons, WhoDo You Love by Marianas Trench and Waka Waka by Shakira.