#i made this on a whim because the parasites told me to

[wizardlol]

[lets-try-some-writing]

Sorry I can’t be emotionally vulnerable with you it’d ruin the mystery. - Unicron to Earth and Moon probably

Unicron has some issues with connection. Unlike the mythology of Cybertron and its portrayals of Unicron, the Unmaker loves his brother more than anything else. He looked up to Primus and wanted to be just like him. He wanted to create things of glory, but all he could do was unravel things that Primus made. It hurt him to know he could never make things as his brother did, but Primus was there to comfort him all the same. They travelled the stars, bound in brotherhood as though they were still one entity.

The only reason he turned against Primus was because he wanted Primus to stop. Primus always intended to create and then allow his frame to be used as a home for his offspring. Unicron was terrified of that plan. At that point, both Unicron and Primus had witnessed civilizations rise and fall, the first races to spread across the stars brought low by their own arrogance. Unicron was terrified that he would lose his brother to the whims and feeble sparks of mortals incapable of seeing what they were gifted.

In his mind, his brother's life was far more valuable than the lives of millions of ungrateful parasites. And it was because of his view that their battle began. At first it was for Primus's sake that Unicron fought. But as time passed, it became personal in a new way. Cuts and scars draped across their frames as they tore at each other, and eventually, both their ideals were lost. Primus came to see Unicron as a threat to all of creation, and thus sought to adhere to the greater good rather than his personal desires in attempting to destroy his twin. Unicron who once tried to free his brother from the threat of creation now saw Primus as a slave to his coding.

Primus fought for the safety of all creation, unwilling to risk it for the sake of his brother regardless of the pain it caused. Unicron battled to ensure that creation would remain free of his brother and his dogged devotion to his plans. And as we all know, Primus came out on top of that conflict, only serving to make Unicron bitter and enraged. Love festered and turned into hatred. The brother Unicron knew was long dead to him now. The thing that called itself Primus was merely a shell left behind.

Unicron hated Earth and Moon too. He tried so very hard to hate them. But as time passed, he looked at them and saw a bond similar to the one he shared with his brother. Devotion and understanding. Creation and destruction embodied. Two beings of different alignments. Earth was a chaotic creature born to give life. Moon was an entity made of starlight but forged to guard and battle. It was difficult for Unicron to try and keep himself from getting attached. After all, one cycle he would need to kill his unwanted daughter in order to return to his mission of destroying Primus. And in killing her, he would have to slaughter Moon as well.

It was his truth. He tried to keep hating them, if only to make things easier for himself. But time and their eternal presence wore on him. Outwardly he told them he despised them. And yet, as millennia passed and more of Primus's spawn came to him, he came to understand his brother more and more.

Primus lost his way, but Unicron now understood the love that drove his brother to cast him off. The love of a father for his child... it was more than the Unmaker could bear if he dared think on it. No, it was far easier to bury that love deep and continue to pretend to hate them. Maybe if he pretended, it would become real.

Earth: Father, I love you. You know that right?

Unicron: You were born against my will from my blood and ashes.

Earth: I'm sorry that's how I was conceived. I know you didn't really want me... but I am thankful you haven't killed me yet.

Unicron: You believe I would smite you?

Earth: Father, I've inherited many of your memories and thoughts. I know you desire freedom, and so all I ask is that you wait until my children can flee to the stars before you end me.

Unicron: Young one...

Earth: It's alright father. Everything has an end, and I am no different. If anything, I am glad that my eventual death shall come from the one who made me. It is fitting.

He can't afford to love. Loving hurts. Loving Earth means one day letting her go. Unicron does not like to think about such things.

Moon: Thank you for caring for Earth. As much as I hate to say it, you've treated her well so far.

Unicron: Begone Primus spawn.

Moon: You know you love me, my dear rival.

Unicron: If I had the power, I would combust you with thoughts alone.

Moon: I'm sure you would buddy.

Moon is a pest, but it is hard not to grow attached to the bug in the corner of your room after a while.

[erenaeoth]

Hey have you finished Tekken Bloodline? I have a lot of thoughts about it and I'd love to hear yours

I have, yeah! I confess to binging it yesterday morning and am part way through a second watching now.

I'll put thoughts under a spoiler for those who haven't finished it yet.

I'm pretty pleased with Tekken Bloodline! It's closest we've ever gotten to a faithful adaptation of any Tekken material, and whilst there are some alterations, inaccuracies, and artistic liberties taken, I'm really pleased to finally have something that loves its source material and enjoys telling the original story.

There are obviously lots of things I would have done differently, but it has met and exceeded my expectations. There is a lot of careful attention to detail, from using TK6 SC Mishima Estate to model the estate on, to even dreamscape scenes like in the final episode taking place on Tekken stages like Infinite Azure and its nightime counterpart.

The closest I came to being irritated was some of the devil gene descriptions, which are all introduced too early, since Heihachi's more serious research into it is because of Jin, not before. That being said, I really loved the idea they fronted that actually the Devil Gene isn't evil - it is a power to be controlled like any other, and that with self-control and an absence of hate, it can be used for good. It turns the Devil Gene into something much more like the Force - a natural, neutral phenomenon that is only a tool in the hands of a moral agent. This does a lot to remove the 'genetic defect makes you evil' that some later Tekken risks slipping into. It also gives Kazuya a more full agency over his evil actions, which has always been important to me. The choice to focus on violence being what breaks Jin and forces him into increasing hatred and loss of control was a really nice one, and something I've always thought is really important and overlooked in Tekken. I think it is in Talon's fic you fear for my life (i fear for yours) that Hwoarang is disturbed by Jin's single minded desire to kill Ogre for revenge. Jin's overcommitment to violent ends begins as his undoing (in so far as his own choices are to blame for where he ends up), and we see that carried through in his thoughtlessness and cruelty later.

I do think though that with this more neutral angle on the Devil Gene, they might struggle to convey its parasitic aspect, which, whilst not excusing Jin or Kazuya's actions, also shouldn't be downplayed. Even the existence of a full-fledged Devil within them is a testament to trauma, without which a devil cannot arise. It is clear from places like Tekken 4 and 5 Jin intros, that Devil preys on the mind and eats into one's thoughts, filling them with violence and hatred. So whilst I like the take that the TV series has on the gene, I'm not sure how successfully this concept would carry over to a second series.

I am glad though that they introduced and demonstrated how unreliable Heihachi is as a source of facts. I was dismayed momentarily by the thought that they were really fielding the idea that Ogre awoke because of Jin fighting and came looking for him. In fact Heihachi had already told us Ogre was seeking out strong opponents (ie. Jun, not Jin) and to have Julia confirm that Heihachi awoke Ogre is a relief. It was a nice touch actually, to show off how manipulative Heihachi can be. Jin was getting more cocky and disobedient in that scene until Heihachi made him feel racked with guilt over his own possible inolvement in his mother's death. He instantly becomes malleable to his grandfather's whims and smaller as soon as he believes this to be true. Very Heihachi. Nice.

Talking of very Heihachi, I loved that we got a nice window into how messed up Kazuya's life must have been under him. We have Heihachi constantly berating Jin for essentially not being enough like his father, offset with Heihachi saying that Kazuya is pure evil. Why aren't you more brutal like your pure evil father, Jin? hurry up, be more like him. Oh, now you are, guess I'll shoot you. Good old Heihachi business.

I'm also chuffed that Xiao and Hwoarang got bigger roles in this, though sad we could have had either of those first meetings outside of a montage. I think all the characterisation in this was really nice actually. Every character was recognisably themselves, and I think the writer really understood Jin and Hwoarang's rivalry, which comes out of Hwoarang's endings really. I also loved Heihachi slamming Jin's emo behaviour and bigging up Xiaoyu. Another peak moment.

I think I could keep writing about this all day. I watched it in Japanese and am watching it in English now. I don't love Heihachi's English VA... but I think his Japanese VA did a really good job, and sounds a lot like Heihachi's deceased actor. I loved the time and energy put into studying the characters moves - all the recognisable stances and moves that have not only been choreographed well into a fight, but also done to convey character. I think unless you have choreographed a fight for a story in some capacity, you might not realise what a difficult task that is to do - you not only need to convey the fighting style well, get it to gel in an interesting way on screen to tell a story - you also want to let those movements still show off the character's personality. For example the playful way Xiaoyu's Phoenix stance is used, and the way Hwoarang is taunting during flamingo, using that very functional stance to act all cocky. There's just a lot of time and love gone into this animation.

I don't really have time to go into much more - I'll mention that I think the choice to put Leroy in in order showcase someone else who's been personally injured by Heihachi is a good one that makes a lot of sense. In fact, I think Leroy, all things being equal, would have made most sense as a Tekken 1 character, given his story, but moving him forward into a Tekken 3 plot did neaten the story they wanted to tell, and provide good strong evidence against Heihachi's lies about his own self image.

Stuff I was less keen on - the implication that Jin's brand is just a cool flame tattoo (we only see it when his new bad boy flame gi is shown off); the implication that Jin wasn't born on Yakushima and that his mother isn't from there; never discussing the Mishima Zaibatsu or just how loaded Heihachi is; setting the whole tournament in Peru? I thought flying there meant that they were going to have stages all over the world that contestants flew too, but no... just all set there, okay.

But anyway, enough of my rambling. Please feel free to chime in with your own thoughts and whether you enjoyed the show. If there was a second season, what would you like to see in it?

[capricornus-rex]

Stronger Than Blood (6)

Chapter 6: Lines Are Drawn | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

A/N: Wow, progress is a little slow now. I’m slightly bummed for some odd reason. With the chaos ensuing anywhere in the world, I’m also affected, one way or another. Given that I’ve come back to my work, the good thing is my company has shortened the work hours, though traffic is still a bitch. I’m beginning to see the new pattern to my work-life balance here. I’ve learned that coffee at night while writing gives me a boost of energy to keep writing. But I’m glad you guys are still looking at my stuff, even if only a few of you stop by every now and then. 💞💞💕💕 You guys have no idea how much it means a whole lot to me, the same way you guys matter. The world’s gone fucked, I hope you guys are safe, wherever you are. 🥺😪💝💖

Also tagging: @ayamenimthiriel​

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

7 YEARS AGO, BEFORE THE JEDI PURGE

Serenno.

You were only a week shy from being ten years old.

You’ve lived a comfortable childhood. Back then, you didn’t understand the vastness of the family manor—it was so vast that it might have been identical to the palaces in Naboo, but of course in the eyes of a child. The only thing that ran in your mind was the games you’d play in the gardens or the foyer, running around and playing house all with your dolls.

Your parents were perhaps the kindest people you’ve known, especially your mother, Jezria. But there were times that the anger in her voice scared you—even if those harsh, loud words were never meant for you in the first place.

They were for that man, with a snowy white head of hair and a bearded face atop a black ensemble, who comes by your house every once in a while. The only thing that stood out in your eye was the expensive silver chain that clasped the cape behind his back.

“So, you’ve come here again,” Jezria growled as she descended the stairs, greeting the guest rather coldly compared to the welcoming vibe that she usually gives off during gatherings. The skirt of her dress billowed over the marble steps, as her manicured fingers slid down the glossed wooden bannister, complementing her regal yet fierce demeanor.

As soon as Jezria’s heels touched the smooth floor, she took you under her arm, shielding you from the visitor’s sight albeit being quite a futile effort.

“Mommy, who is he?” you muttered.

The man’s head tilted downward, proving that he’d heard you. His serious eyes made you hide away behind your mother’s skirt, leaving only a peep at the corner of your eye.

“So, you haven’t told your daughter of her own uncle,” his voice was baritone and spoke in an aristocratic, firm accent. He shakes his head. “Is that how much you hate me, Jezria?”

“Because her life is better without knowing who you are to her!!”

“Foolish woman! Do you think altering your surname into “Moorken” changes anything!? You can change your name, your face, but never your blood!” he bellowed back, cutting the air with a swift sweep of his arm. “You don’t know what your own child is capable of! Only my master and I know the true potential of her power. No matter how many times you deny it, my sister, [y/n] will always have the eyes of Darth Sidious.”

“Whoever he is… No, frankly I don’t give a damn who he is!” Jezria’s teeth were clenched so tightly that her words nearly incoherent. “He will not touch my [y/n]!”

“Underestimating him may not be the wisest thing you’ll ever do, Jezria. And as far as I know you are an intelligent woman.”

With one step forward from your supposed uncle, Jezria—with you still hiding behind her hip—takes one step back away from her brother. Your mother further shielded you with the wide sleeve that dangled from her slender arm, almost veiling you from the eyes of her brother.

“Leave my home, you Separatist parasite! And if you come for [y/n] to try and take her from me, you will never hear the end of me, my dear brother.” she snarled, a true dragon-lady baring her teeth.

The visitor’s beard quivered as he harrumphed, his eyebrows furrowed so much that wrinkles formed across his forehead and the bags under his eyes became more prominent. He strode the grand aisle of the vast foyer, the hem of his cape swept the marble as he departed until he disappeared from the hollow thud of the great doors.

Jezria had kept her ferocious façade on until her brother was gone. Finally, with the dying echo of the door’s thud, her shoulders relaxed and her lungs loosened, but her hand never removed you from her embrace. You repeated the question, hoping that she would answer.

Having no choice, she sighed and melted to her knees, levelling herself to you.

“Darling, you heard him…” she sighed, quite disappointingly at the fact that you’re related to that visitor.

“My uncle? You never told me much about him, mom.”

“I know, dear, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soon enough,” she gulped. “But… I’ll explain it to you later. I hope that one day you’ll understand.”

Understanding that her ten-year-old daughter had no full grasp of the concept that she and her brother were fighting about, the least she could do was simplify it; and while her elder brother departed their home, Jezria had already concocted a plan for her family.

——————————————————–

“No, you have no right!!” your mother roared.

“I told you it would come to this!” your uncle rebutted.

The same exchange occurred just a few days turning ten years old. You may not have understood it, but it’s as if this man has timed the exact moment where he would have to cause another commotion in your household. Only this time, it has become more physical than the first time—you watched your mother attempt to push your uncle farther away from reaching the staircase, where you’re perched by the railings. Using his forearm as a shield to fight off Jezria’s pushing, he shoved her away as they went verbally ballistic against one another.

“And I told you that you won’t get anywhere near [y/n]!”

“Then I have no choice, Jezria, I will do what I must!”

He pushed her away to give himself some space. Jezria had the foresight that her brother would reach for his weapon—a curved black hilt strapped to his brown leather belt—and she beat him to it. A sleek, silver blaster—a streak of white shine underneath the chandelier light gleamed and adorned the body and barrel—pressed cold against the forehead of her brother.

The drawing of their weapons made you shift from where you perched in full view of them downstairs.

“I will put a hole between your eyes if you even do so much as touch your weapon with your finger,” Jezria snarled, her thumb flicking the safety.

“Are you really challenging me, dear sister?”

“If that’s what it takes, Count.” She firmly said, hinting sarcasm on his title, albeit her voice shuddering.

Your uncle sensed the trembling of her hands, he could feel it from the slight twitching of the barrel against the flesh of his forehead; an arrogant smirk popped out of his snowy beard, he slowly lured his hand away from his weapon, but Jezria knows full well that he’s not yet done with this charade.

“Leave. My. Home.”

Her finger hovered just a hair strand’s length away from the trigger.

Silence. A single heave of breath lifted the man’s broad shoulders.

“NOW!!!”

“This is not over, Jezria. Not until my master has what he wants!”

The Count—as your mother addressed him—backed away slowly until the barrel isn’t touching his head anymore. Again, as he turned tail, his maroon cape swooshed and billowed in the stale air which his heated exchange with his sister remained with. For the first time, you saw that he—in a way—was similar to you: with a single wave of his hand, the door opened at his whim, and he didn’t even lay a finger on the shiny doorknobs!

You’ve had such experience before: making things move at your whim without having the need to touch them. Your mother educated you what she knows—but her brother’s knowledge towers over hers, it didn’t matter, she only told you what you needed to know about the unseen entity they call the Force.

His presence always gave you anxiety, although you couldn’t help but stand witness to the ballistic trade of words between him and your mother. It felt like you were unfurling a family mystery all on your own, and to some extent, you were—but you never imagined it to be like this. As a child, you always had the precedent that whatever adults say are true—and your uncle’s words haunted you ever since he stepped through the front door.

He’s going to take me?

Will I ever see Mommy and Papa if he brings me with him?

Who is the other man they were talking about?

These were the questions that troubled you at night, until they have bothered you to exhaustion that you slept on them and worried about them in the next.

That next evening, the Count didn’t think of paying another visit, but this worried Jezria to a tee. Prior today, she had already put her plan into play: her husband already went ahead, disappearing from the gargantuan family manor to secure a safe route for your escape to the next planet, as she made herself busy getting changed and packing her bags, as well as yours.

Not meaning to disturb you or scare you—even though you’re already the latter—she barged into your bedroom. You were already instructed to get changed as well; and so you’ve been waiting for your mother’s signal to leave. The moment she popped her head into the space of the door she opened, you hopped out of your bed and took her hand.

“Keep up with me, darling!” she whispered, keeping her breath low in the dark.

“Where are we going?”

“To the ship, we’re going someplace far away from here… where he can’t take you,”

Perhaps Jezria’s constant underestimation of her brother—and indirectly the so-called master he always referred to—was her undoing, despite her best intentions of keeping her family safe.

Of course, she did not have that foresight or realization. What only mattered to Jezria weren’t the threats but her husband and daughter and that they were together—carefree and perfect, before her brother’s ugly head poked itself through her doorstep.

Mother and child boarded a shuttle. Jezria alone piloted the ship, prepped it and took off, while you sat buckled up in the co-pilot seat, observing her graceful fingers fluidly dancing across the dashboard controls; beeps chimed into your ears that it was nearly nauseating, the twinkling of the screens blinded you and made you see double, until the rumble of the ship hovering from the ground caused you to sink into your seat.

“Hold tight, dear,”

“Okay, Mom,” you said, ever so obediently.

This was actually your very first time to see the outside of Serenno. You were educated about the different planets and systems from your tutors, but everything you’ve learned about them failed to slam you with the celestial-scale oomph right in the face when you saw the endless sheet of black riddled with stars.

The sight was breathtaking, the neighboring planets’ sizes in a little ten-year-old’s eyes were simply impossible to fathom. Jezria relished the sight of your innocent smile, the fascination twinkling in your eyes, and the gaping smile that remained as your head spanned only a fraction of the galaxy. She hoped that she’d live to see that face again once the family has established a peaceful life, away from the eyes of the Count.

Jezria was finally able to relax and breathe easy as she cruised the shuttle through space. For once, the silence was comforting, she would banter with you, make little guessing games about the planets the shuttle has passed by or what system you could be in.

“Can you name at least another planet in the same space region?” your mother quizzed.

“Well, since home is in the Outer Rim, then another Outer Rim planet could be… Felucia!”

“That’s right, Felucia is also in the Outer Rim Territories!” your mother beamed. “You sure kept your lessons to heart.”

That smooth sailing was interrupted in the blink of an eye when another ship from behind has opened fire, damaging the stern of the shuttle. The screens flashed erratically while Jezria desperately multitasked in stabilizing the ship while taking damage.

“Mom!” you shrieked, tongue-tied and terrified that you were mute for a second.

“It’s okay, [y/n]! It’s going to be okay!”

From the graceful dancing of fingers that you saw moments ago, your mother’s arms flailed in all directions trying to stabilize the ship while being tailed and fired at the ship.

“An assassin, of course!” she growled under her breath.

“What’s going on!?”

“We’re being tailed. Hold on, [y/n]! Whatever happens, just hold on!”

You continued to observe your mother throwing her hands to all sides, attempting to keep the ship flying. The center screen, the widest in the dashboard, flashed a bright orange while projecting the cross-section view of the engines. Whatever button Jezria presses, the orange on the screen never disappeared, rather it gradually turned red to emphasize the severity of the damage.

Suddenly, she could no longer steer the ship forward. The shuttle had been caught into a tractor beam for boarding. A brief thud shook the ship. The magnetic field of the beam has already taken hold of your shuttle.

There’s nothing much she can do right now.

She hopped out of her seat and took you out of yours as well. In her burst of adrenaline, she was able to carry your entirely—the same way she has cradled you as a toddler—to the escape pods. The banging against the door pounded at the same time your heart beats. The assassin has boarded the ship. A single unit can only fit one person, and there were two; before shutting the pod, she cupped your face so that you heed her well.

“[y/n], listen to me. You’re safe in this escape pod, the coordinates have already been entered in the controls. I’ll go in the second pod. And we’ll go see Papa together, okay?”

At face value, you understood well enough that you’re being separated from your mother. You began to choke while fighting back tears, never have you ever clutched your mother’s arm, and the fright was too great for you to bear alone. You weren’t even sure if you’d keep up with her in your own escape pod.

“Mom, please don’t leave me,” you cracked.

“I won’t, darling,” she kissed your forehead. Another bang from the door. “You know what to do, don’t you? I taught you this, remember?”

You nodded nervously, suddenly unconfident, but the lessons were still intact.

“You will be alright,” she removed her necklace and wore it around your neck. She pulled you in the tightest embrace she has ever given you, it was almost suffocating but you didn’t care. “I love you, darling. Oh my baby. My baby [y/n].”

You could hear her sobbing. It took a lot of her willpower to pull away, you sensed it that much. Just when she was about to board her own pod, the assassin had already broken down the door and attacked your mother. By sheer instinct, she slammed the eject button with her fist—but only for your escape pod.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, the fiberglass window muffling the full volume of your cries. Your tiny fist pounded the door but it was too thick. From that small circular window that only occupied the whole of your face, you watched your mother defend herself against the assassin.

The assailant was fully covered from helmet to boot. Not even a peek of the eyes through the visor. Jezria and the assassin traded strikes with their vibroblades. You were so caught up with crying for your mother that you didn’t feel the loss of gravity around your escape pod. As the vessel throttles minutes later after ejection and drifts away into space, the less you saw of your mother. You continued to shriek through the door, unable to realize that there’s nothing much you could do except repeat the words “No” and “Mom.”

Farther away, you had full view of the shuttle, but no better view of Jezria. The next moment, the shuttle burst into flames. It felt like time had frozen itself, cruelly forcing you watch it for as long as the galaxy could take. Orange and red coated the original color of your irises, you held your breath even though you still had enough oxygen, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the destruction.

Your mother was in there.

You didn’t see the second escape pod be jettisoned. It never did.

You know the words, you just don’t have the strength to utter it through your mouth or your mind.

You’re now alone, stuck in the middle of space in a claustrophobic vessel that well may be your casket. Just when you were close to sulk on the floor and give up, the temperature around the pod flared, the turbulence rattled the pod so strongly that you practically shook with it.

Luckily, dejection still hasn’t devoured you fully. You followed the safety protocols of the escape pod from entering the atmosphere until you’ve landed and touched a planet’s surface. You buckled up, remembering what your mother taught you; upon realizing that your mother never entered any coordinates and just jettisoned your pod to safety before the assassin could reach you, now you could never reunite with your father as well, the only thing left to do is try to land the pod as daintily as you can.

“I hope this works…!” you groaned as you parroted the same dexterity your mother possessed when manning the ship.

The escape pod had a rough landing, but following the procedure greatly factored in your survival. You emerge out of the crash, bruised and dirtied, you gathered what you can from the wreckage and hiked your way to nowhere. With every step, you attempt to register every single thing has transpired. You may only be ten years old, but you were able to put the pieces together and assume the worst.

It was your uncle. No doubt about it.

“Now he’s done it,” you snarled, the searing heat of the sun burned along with the rage that colored your cheeks.

You decided to stick with that, overlooking one crucial question: can you prove it?

It all seemed hopeless. You’ve been wandering around in this temperate planet for hours now with little supplies. You’ve fought off the temptation of rummaging your bag for rations, you’re too famished to even think about conserving them.

That is until you met a kindly Iktotchi, the same Iktotchi who will foster you in the next few years into the woman you’ve grown to be now.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever- Peter Parker x venom!Reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of suicide, cancer, and drepression

AN: Hello! this is the first chapter and I hope you enjoy. Reader is essentially the female Eddie Brock. This takes place after the events of the Venom movie, but before Infinity War and Endgame.

Masterlist

Chapter One

Chapter two Chapter three

“Married?” I squeaked. My eyes grazed over the words on the card a hundred times without retaining any of the information. I momentarily forgot how to even read. I solely relied on the words coming out of Andy’s mouth.

“Yes, uh, married.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Dani and I are getting married over the summer.” Andy said. I was still staring at that damn card. The awkward silence filled the air, suffocating the three of us, but I didn’t care. I was holding my ex-fiancé’s wedding invitation in my hand for Christ’s sake.

“Married.” I repeated, like an idiot.

“You said that already, dumbass.” Venom chimed in, telepathically. I kicked the bench we were sitting on to quiet her down.

“Yes. Mare-weed.” He mimicked my New York accent just a little. I had trouble pronouncing my r’s. They often sounded like w’s. Andy never failed to point out how I sounded like a baby. I playfully elbowed him.

“Give me a break, it’s a lot to take in.” I said softly.

“I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you in person. I figured it would be better than you randomly getting the card in the mail and finding out that way.” Andy explained.

“Our hero.” Venom snarled. I pinched my leg to send her the message to be quiet.

“Yea. Yea no I’m glad you told me.” I said. My eyes finally processed something on the card.

“You’re getting married on August 10?” I asked, finally tearing my eyes away from that damn invitation and looking at him. He looked good. His curly brown hair was cut shorter than usual and he had on one of his signature suits.

“Bright and early. I chose that day because-“

“Because it’s your parents anniversary. I know.” I cut him off. I looked down and my hands. “We were gonna get married that day too.” I said timidly. I wasn’t gonna say it, but how could I not? He and I were engaged too once. I could feel Andy’s face heat up.

“Y/N, I totally forgot. I never would’ve, I mean, I didn’t erm I didn’t want-“ he stumbled over his words. I held up a hand to silence him.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We were engaged and now we’re not. Besides, I’m really happy for you and Dani. She really helped me get back in my feet when Venom and I first bonded. I like her. And if you want to marry her on that day, then go ahead.” I said, and I meant it. I did like Dani. I’d like her more if she wasnt dating the love of my life, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

“You’re lying. We want him back. He looks so juicy and delicious.” Venom said. I choked on my saliva for a moment. Andy was quick to pat my back.

“You alright?” He asked. I nodded and made a mental note to have a domestic conversation about boundaries with Venom when we got home.

“I’m fine. And anyways, I’ve uh, I’ve moved on.” I blurted, like a total freaking dumbass.

“What? No we haven’t?” Venom said

“You have?” Andy asked. He seemed taken aback.

“No! We love you!” Venom cried. I was just greatful she was only speaking in my head.

“Yep. I’m in a deeply committed and loving relationship.” I said. It wasn’t a total lie. I was technically in a relationship with Venom, though be it a host parasite kinda deal. And I did deeply love her. I avoided eye contact and began to tug on a curl.

“What’s he like?” Andy asked. He seemed pissed off all the sudden. I pretended not to notice his change in mood.

“She, actually. She’s great. She’s uh…tall. Super super tall.” I said. It was true. Venom was 7’6. Andy nodded so I continued.

“She’s black, like yourself, and she’s got this big, beautiful smile.” I could feel myself cringing internally.

“You think my smile is beautiful?” Venom said sheepishly. I rolled my eyes.

“And she just always has my back. She’s my ride or die, you know? If I didn’t have her, I’d be dead. Literally.” I finished. And I would. If Venom and I ever got separated, we would both die. Andy was looking off into the distance. He sucked his teeth before nodding again. All he ever did was nod.

“That’s nice.” He said. His tone didn’t sound like he thought it was nice.

“I’d literally die.” I repeated.

“I get it.” He deadpanned.

“Like, I’d freaking perish.” I said.

“Alright.” He held up his hands and I stopped. Venom giggled in my head. I giggled back quietly.

“So, do you think you can come?” He asked.

Of course I could come. What the hell else would I be doing? But I was just getting back on my feet. I was at rock bottom before I found Venom. Well, before we found each other. That was nearly a year ago. That night came back in flashes every now and then.

I stared at a string of pictures of Andy and I at a fair. We went in the photoboth and immortalized our love in a series of goofy pictures. At least, I thought we did. Each picture showed us how we once were. Happy, youthful, and in love. Kisses on cheeks and arms around necks that had been long forgotten. I stared at the pictures until tears filled my eyes. He left me six months ago and it hurt like a bitch everyday. I tore my eyes away from the photos and they landed on a framed picture of me and my sister, Mary. My beautiful sister. I picked up the picture and smiled at it fondly. We were wearing matching shirts that said “Mary the Monster”. I had suggested “Mighty Mary” but she liked monster better.

“Why would you call yourself a monster? Monsters are scary and evil.” I teased.

“Exactly. I’m gonna scare the cancer out of my body. And who says all monsters are evil? They’re not. In fact, all monsters are human. At least they used to me. And I’m human too.” She answered. I smiled at her admiringly.

“Are you sure? You look a bit more like an alien to me.” I said, rubbing her bald head.

“Who else can look this good bald? A monster, that’s who?” Mary beamed. “Now, are you sure you want to go through with this?” She asked, turning on the razor.

“Yes. If my sisters bald, I’m bald.” I looked at my self in the mirror and nodded fiercely. Her face lit up with pride and she began to shave my head.

That was three years ago. Two years ago, she lost her fight to cancer. She died when I was 16. She was only 21. Twenty freaking one. Just three months shy of her 22nd birthday.

I remember calling her after looking at our picture. I’d call her every now and then, when I needed to hear her voicemail.

“Hey Mary. It’s Y/N. I’m sure you’re busy kicking ass in heaven and that’s why you didn’t pick up. You know, you could always come back down here and kick ass. Heaven is way overrated. I hear you don’t even have cable. I’m uh, I’m in a tough place right now. I really miss you. Every damn day. It…it should’ve been me. Dad always said it and, and I think he was right” a steady flow of tears fell down my cheek. “Anyway. I might be seeing you real soon. I love you. Goodnight” I hung up and dialed my dad.

“Hm hello?” He grunted on the third ring. I might’ve woken him up.

“Hey dad. It’s me.” I said sheepishly. We didn’t really talk since I moved to San Francisco.

“Mary? Is that you?” He asked. He was drunk, no doubt. His words were slurred and he slow.

“No, dad. It’s your other daughter. It’s Y/N.” I said. “I just…I was wondering if I could come home. I know I moved out here to work and be with Andy, but Andy and I actually broke and I uh, I lost my job dad. I’m kinda at a low point and I just want to go home.” I confessed. I waited for his answer. All I heard was silence, then a low, gravely laugh.

“Home? You think this is home? Your sister dies and you leave me here all alone and think it’s home? You think I want you here after what you’ve done? After you killed your mother and let your sister die?” He asked. He wasn’t yelling. He was genuinely asking. It didn’t stop it from hurting though.

“I didn’t kill mom. Thousands of women die in childbirth every year. We’ve talked about this a hundred times. Please just…just let me come home dad. I really need to get out of here.” I said. Hot tears fell down my face. I didn’t want to go to him, but I had nowhere else to go.

“I don’t want you around here. I never wanted you, period. Your sister was my golden girl. Your mother and I were so happy to have her.” He sounded sober for a moment, thinking of those happy memories. “And then you came along. And you killed your mother. My wife. My beautiful wife, gone, just like that. Leaving me with a screaming, crying baby. No. You can’t come home. This isn’t your home. Don’t call again.” And he hung up. I knew I was at my lowest point. I knew that was it. I saw my bottle of anti-depressants out of the content of my eye. I went over to the bottle and toyed with it in my hands. I lost my job, relationship, and family. I lost everything. What was the point of living to see tomorrow when tomorrow had nothing for me? I poured the pills into my hand and swallowed them. I drank some water and went to bed.

And then I woke up.

I woke up the next day. It hadn’t worked. It only left me feeling emptier and more miserable than before. I picked up my phone and went to call Mary again when I saw Dr. Dora Skirth’s number. On a whim, I dialed it. That night, Venom and I met, and I had found a reason to live to tomorrow.

“Y/N?” Andy asked. I snapped out of it.

“Oh right sorry. Um…” I mulled it over. Losing Andy nearly killed me. I was happy for him, I really was. But I wasn’t ready to attend his wedding. That was gonna be us. We were gonna be married on August 10th. It should’ve been me picking out a dress and bouquet and cake with him. He and I should be handing out wedding invitations. He shouldn’t be giving one to me. Of course I wanted to be at his wedding. But I wanted to be the bride.

“Actually, I cant. The Daily Bugle called me and offered me a job in New York. They want me to cover a story on some serial killer. I was gonna move there part time until the story is done. I’m leaving in a few weeks.” I blurted. Actual word vomit. It was partly true. The Daily Bugle did want to to write the story. But I had no moving plans nor was I the type of organized person who could make moving plans in a few mere weeks.

“Oh really? Wow.” Andy said. I couldn’t read his emotion. Disappointment and excitement seemed to be the forerunners but I couldn’t tell.

“Yea. I just finalized everything this morning.” More lies. I better call them the hell back. Andy nodded. My heart felt a twinge of guilt.

“But hey, maybe I’ll finish early and make it back in time for your big day. I mean, it’s only April. I have lots of time. How many people could this guy possible kill until August?” I joked. Andy didn’t laugh. He never really got my sense of humor. He did smile however.

“That’s great Y/N. I really hope you can make it. And congratulations. On everything. The girlfriend, the job. Things are really turning around for you.” He said. We smiled sincerely at each other before saying our goodbyes and going our separate ways.

I entered my apartment and slid down the door.

“Holy shit. I’m such a liar.” I said. I covered my face with my hands. Venom manifested herself and looked at me.

“You’re not a liar if we move to New York and start dating.” She said. I laughed.

“You have a point. In that case, will you be my girlfriend, Miss Venom?” I asked sarcastically. Venom smiled.

“You’re not really my type, but I’m willing to settle.” Venom answered. I laughed again.

“Then let’s make moving plans, baby. We’re going to New York.”

[thezolblade]

Jon: “I wish I could talk it through with Martin, or Tim, or Sasha…But we never really did that, did we?”

I’ve been meaning to pull together some meta ever since hearing that line. As understandable as it is that Jon would regret the times he failed to communicate, as true as it is that he’s often fallen down there (and it’s fun seeing the fandom screaming over that on an ongoing basis)... I’d say he was too hard on himself by saying ‘never’, since there were times when he tried to communicate to the best of his ability. More than that, there are lines that give me the impression he’s always highly valued shared knowledge - that as well as being driven by a deep desire to know, he also wants to help other people know more, and gets frustrated when they don’t want to share knowledge with him or others.

Some quotes here, and interpretation below, of times when he tried to go beyond the ‘archive the closed cases’ job description that was supposedly expected of him, pursuing his priorities in the expectation that people would help - when he still expected that other people would help as a common sense assumption - or discussed events with the assistants beyond the bounds of what he was officially asking them to do for the job, etc. (Mostly s1 bc this is taking more evenings than i expected just from looking through the transcripts and a lot of episodes don’t have them yet):

MAG 001 - Anglerfish

ARCHIVIST: When an investigation has gone as far as it can, it is transferred to the Archives. [...] it seems as though little of the actual investigations have been stored in the Archives, so the only thing in most of the files are the statements themselves. [...] I plan to digitise the files as much as possible and record audio versions, though some will have to be on tape recorder as my attempts to get them on my laptop have met with... significant audio distortions. Alongside this Tim, Sasha and, yes, I suppose, Martin will be doing some supplementary investigation to see what details may be missing from what we have.

MAG 002 - Do Not Open

ARCHIVIST: When the Institute first investigated, it doesn’t look like they were able to find a single piece of evidence to support the existence of this scratched coffin, and to be honest I didn’t think it was worth wasting anyone’s time over now, nearly twenty years later. That said, I did mention it to Tim yesterday, and apparently he did some digging of his own.

MAG 004 - Pageturner

ARCHIVIST:  So it doesn’t appear that we have any concrete leads to go on. Still, I will be bringing this up with Elias and recommending that the search for any other missed books from the Leitner library be made this Institute’s highest priority. Jurgen Leitner has done the world enough harm and we must pursue all available avenues to ensure that he does no more.

MAG 006 - Squirm

ARCHIVIST: I can’t find any evidence that my predecessor took follow-up action on this statement, so I’ve taken the step of reporting Mr Hodge’s to the ECDC. We were unable to locate him to request a follow-up interview and if he has had intercourse with one of Prentiss’ victims, then they’ll need to deal with him sooner rather than later. I just hope it’s not too late already.

MAG 011 - Dreamer

ARCHIVIST: I’m not... entirely sure whether to bring this up with Elias or not. When he hired me, he was vague on the point of what happened to my predecessor, Gertrude Robinson. [...] I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. [...] Still, I might have a word with Rosie, to make sure I get a copy of any new statements as soon as they’re made, not just once the researchers are done with them. She seemed very open to idea of recording them, so I’m hopeful she’ll be willing to do this too.

MAG 017- The Boneturner’s Tale

ARCHIVIST: I've barely scratched the surface of the archives and have already uncovered evidence of two separate surviving books from Jurgen Leitner's library. Until he mentioned that, I was tempted to dismiss much of it out of hand, but as it stands now I believe every word. I've seen what Leitner's work can do, and this news, even 17 years out of date, is still very concerning to me. I'm going to have a discussion with Elias as to what we can do to address the issue. I know he'll just give me the old “record and study, not interfere or contain” speech again, but I at least need to make him aware of it.

MAG 020 - Desecrated Host

ARCHIVIST: This all leads me to believe that there may have been a second person there that night, although from talking with the police, I get the impression that there is little appetite for re-opening the case, considering how successful the initial prosecution was.

MAG 022 - Colony

ARCHIVIST: In which case there's a room in the Archives I use to sleep when working late. I suggest you stay there for now. I'll talk to Elias about whether we can get extra security, but the Archives have enough locks for now. [...] Well, in that time I have received several text messages from your phone, saying you were ill with stomach problems. The last one said that you thought it “might be a parasite”, though my calls trying to follow up were never answered. [...] I just received another text message. From you. “Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the Archivist’s crimson fate arrives.”

MARTIN: What does that mean?

ARCHIVIST: It means I ask Elias to hire some extra security. I should probably warn Sasha and Tim as well.

MAG 024 - Strange Music

When discussing this case, Tim said it reminded him of some articles he'd read on travelling circuses in Russia and Poland during the early 20th century. On a whim, I hunted down a few of the volumes he mentioned in the Institute's library, and sure enough on page 43 of Gregory Petry's Freaks and Followers: Circuses in the 1940s, I found a reproduction of an old black-and-white photograph.

MAG 026 - A Distortion

SASHA: Well, I’m sure you know I was sceptical about how dangerous this Jane Prentiss was when you first suggested Martin stay in the archive. [...] You were having some argument with Tim about... um, oh, who’s that architect he’s obsessed with?

ARCHIVIST: Robert Smirke. [...] ARCHIVIST: Sasha has taken a few days off to recuperate, and I’m having a word with Elias about getting some extra CO2 fire extinguishers for the Archive.

MAG 033 - Boatswain’s Call

TIM: Um, look I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure... it’s not a big deal, I just think it might be worth re-recording these statements.

ARCHIVIST: No. I don’t have time. I still have a mountain of haphazard statements to get through, not to mention that I need to keep this wretched tape recorder on hand just in case I encounter one of the files too stubborn to work on anything else. And when I do, I have to actually read the damn thing, which is...

TIM (BACKGROUND): Oh, woah, woah... woah!

ARCHIVIST: Fine. It’s fine. I just haven’t been sleeping much these last few months, what with all this... worm business. Which reminds me, if you do see Elias, tell him thanks for the extra extinguishers. [...] ARCHIVIST: In addition to such business ventures, the Lukas family also provides funding to several academic and research organisations, including the Magnus Institute. Much as I want to dig further into this, especially given certain parallels with case 0161301, Elias gets very twitchy when we look into anything that might conceivably have funding repercussions. [...] Maybe I’ll mention it to Elias. Just in case.

MAG 035 - Old Passages

ARCHIVIST: You should have seen Tim’s face when I told him. Architecture is one of his specialist areas, and he has always talked of Smirke as one that fascinates him. How did he phrase it? “A master of subtle stability.” From a professional standpoint, it also interests him that Smirke’s buildings have higher percentages of reported paranormal sightings than any other architect of similar profile.

MAG 036 - Taken Ill

TIM: Er, what is it?

ARCHIVIST: A lighter. An old Zippo.

TIM: You smoke?

ARCHIVIST: No. And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!

TIM: Okay. Is there anything unusual about it?

ARCHIVIST: Not really. Just a sort of spider web design on the front. Doesn’t mean anything to me. You?

TIM: Ah no. No.

ARCHIVIST: Well... show it to the others, see what they think.

MAG 039 - Infestation

ARCHIVIST: I got it!

[PULLS TAPE RECORDER FROM THE MORASS OF WORMS] [...]

SASHA: Why record it?

ARCHIVIST: What?

SASHA: Before, in the office. It, it was stupid going for the tape recorder like that, and then when you dropped it out there— [...]

ARCHIVIST: I just... I don’t want to become a mystery. I refuse to become another goddamn mystery. [...] Every real statement just leads... deeper into something I don’t even know the shape of yet. And to top it all, I still don’t know what happened to Gertrude. Officially she’s still missing, but Elias is no help and the police were pretty clear that the wait to call her dead is just a formality. If I die, wormfood or... something else, whatever, I’m going to make damn sure the same doesn’t happen to me. Whoever takes over from me is going to know exactly what happened. [...]

ARCHIVIST: Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that... Why do you think I started working here? It’s not exactly glamorous. I have... I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason. I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe... thirty, forty that are... that go on tape. Now those, I believe, at least for the most part.

MARTIN: Then why do you—

ARCHIVIST: Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels... it feels like I’m being watched. I... I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like... like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will... know somehow. The scepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer.

MARTIN: Well... It wasn’t.

ARCHIVIST: No. No, it wasn’t.

[...]

ARCHIVIST: I mean at the Archive in general. Why haven’t you quit?

MARTIN: Are you giving me my review now?

ARCHIVIST: No... We’re clearly doing a whole heart-to-heart thing and, truth be told, the question’s been bothering me. You’ve been living in the Archives for four months, constant threat of... this. Sleeping with a fire extinguisher and a corkscrew. Even you must be aware that that’s not normal for an archiving job? Why are you still here?

MARTIN: [Considering] Don’t really know. I just am. It didn’t feel right to just leave. I’ve typed up a few resignation letters, but I just couldn’t bring myself to hand them in. I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t... move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck.

Martin...You’re not, uh... You didn’t die here, did you?

MARTIN: What? What? N-No... what?!

ARCHIVIST: No, I just... No, just the way you phrased that...

MARTIN: Made you think I was a ghost?

ARCHIVIST: No... it’s—

MARTIN: No, no... it’s just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too. We all are, I think.

MAG041 - Too Deep

Why do I still feel like I’m being watched? I’d just about convinced myself it was Prentiss, watching me in secret while she filled the walls with her writhing hordes, but no. She is dead and gone, and still whenever I talk into this... damn thing, I feel this... I’m being watched. I know I am. [...] my primary focus must be on who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I do not believe for a moment that it was a wall-moving spectre from the depths of the earth. No, far more likely it’s one of my colleagues. Elias is a prime suspect, but it could have been any of them. [...] I can make two tapes from each recording. One containing the main statement and notes, which will be stored in the archive, and the other containing the statement, notes, and... this supplement, which will chronicle my own investigations. These tapes will be hidden. If you’re hearing this, I assume you’re my replacement, following my death or disappearance, and have received instructions on where to find them. [...] This level of paranoia is new to me, but I’m learning fast. Trust can get you killed.

...So, reading back over season 1 was interesting. Jon was asked to organise an archive of statements that were no longer under investigation by the institute. (Leading a team of four ex-researchers, himself included, who were used to working on open investigations. He was told that the institute’s mission statement was to study but not to ‘interfere or contain’, to the point where he got sick of Elias giving him that speech.)

He believed every statement that we heard him record, and he had all 3 assistants take part in re-opening an investigation into each of them through all available lines of enquiry (instead of devoting more resource to getting the existing material filed in a sensible system asap).

Wherever there was a chance it would do some good, he reported his findings to the authorities, and pushed to see if the Institute or the police would go further on the basis of his information.

He discussed the cases with his assistants thoroughly enough to know their areas of personal interest in the supernatural, and when they got into trouble, he immediately offered them as much protection as he could and went to Elias for help, prompting some of the others to express skepticism about the threats that he was clearly taking seriously, maybe excessively so...?

And yet because he felt watched by something supernatural, and convinced himself that it was Jane Prentiss somehow, he lied constantly by feigning skepticism even while following every lead and pushing everyone else to do the same. It’s a wonder anyone was fooled tbh, and it backfired by discouraging Martin and Sasha from confiding in him until they were in deep trouble. It also made his complaint about lack of sleep look relatively grumpy/petty to Tim, since he didn’t quite admit the full scale of the problem with nightmares and the exhaustion that the statements magically caused.

When Elias was feigning a normal level of ignorance in ep 39 he told Sasha: “You know how those two are... John puts on a good show, but sometimes I swear he’s worse than Martin.” And in ep 40 he told Jon: “I... know I have often seemed dismissive of your concerns before, and in fact I was getting ready to raise the issue of Martin’s continuing to live in the Institute’s basement”. If Elias was faking something like the rest of the Institute staff’s attitude (to things he wouldn’t admit to knowing all about)... then people really did doubt Jon’s skeptic act, feeling that he was always complaining about supernatural threats and going overboard in trying to protect people.

That changed in season 2, when he came to believe that one of his colleagues had murdered Gertrude, and stopped trusting all of them. When he was worried that his own death might be imminent, in the midst of Prentiss’ attack and in the paranoid aftermath, one of his main concerns was communicating with his successor through the tapes.

He doesn’t want his fate to be a mystery to those he leaves behind. Considering how much danger he puts himself in, diving into a pile of worms for the recorder, and later stating that he’d rather die exploring the tunnels than leave the Institute’s secrets buried, he’s more interested in getting information out to other people than in surviving.

Mid-season 2, when he gets scared, he talks about taking a break from his investigations until he can get more help from the police, especially as he thinks he’s trying to track down a human murderer. That remaining trust in authority doesn’t lead him to him collaborating with Basira to the extent he’d hoped, since she eventually makes it clear she wants nothing more to do with him, and he discovers that not!Sasha is a supernatural threat that the police couldn’t help with anyway.

The start of season 3 sees him reflecting that he didn’t turn to his assistants for help because he didn’t want to get them killed, and once he makes it back to the archives, he tries to overcome his recent trust issues and more long-standing hero complex by involving the others in his plans again - though they take care not to let those plans show up on tape, since they’re plotting against Elias by that point. When Jon asks everyone to record their thoughts before the unknowing in Testament, he’s trying to get them all communicating - with themselves, each other, and anyone who follows in their footsteps.

So far in season 4, he’s been more ready than ever to collaborate, but the others are mostly refusing to talk to him. His first instinct when he uncovers immediately relevant information is to go tell Basira, and he heeds her advice when he asks whether they can tell Melanie. (Which was unfair on Melanie, but at least you can see why he’d fear for his life after she threatened to attack him on sight if he ever tried to talk to her again.) He tried to tell Martin what had been going on instead of trying to compel information from him, and apparently hasn’t had much chance to speak to anyone else, or to leave the building.

He has the power to compel other people to see truths that they wouldn’t have recognised on their own; he only had to ask Tim what he was holding for Tim to see the detonator. And he may compare himself to Gertrude for losing assistants, but he talked to Sasha and Tim about the threats they were facing at the time, to the best of his knowledge. If Gertrude seems to have fought her battles by deliberately misleading people so that she could sacrifice them, and by taking out ‘loose ends’ to keep herself from being incriminated...

Well, I think Jon’s on his way to distinguishing himself from his predecessor through good communication, despite the massive stumbling blocks of his paranoid phase and isolation. (And through his extreme protectiveness towards individual people, compared to her way of prioritising the big picture.) He’s always wanted to get the truth out in the open, despite sometimes holding back out of fear that he won’t be believed, or he’ll get himself or others killed. Some of his most uncharismatic moments have been his attempts to tell people the truth when his knowledge was too patchy to convince them, and he wasn’t tactful enough to try to bring them on-side with diplomacy instead of facts and theories. As his powers grow, one of his most effective abilities might be to help his allies see the truth, so that they can join forces by choice.

E.g. maybe he’ll eventually find out what Peter’s up to from Martin - or maybe he’ll ask about something that he didn’t even realise was part of the plan, granting Martin an insight into something that neither of them knew beforehand.

[Edit: Wrote the above post in the mid-s4 hiatus and, uh. He sure did try to collaborate on a lot of stuff, but. Also fucked up pretty thoroughly, so. The s4 thoughts feel a bit over-optimistic in retrospect. Leaving it strikethrough rather than deleted though.]

[shardclan]

At the center of the vast hall within the Beacon, the emanating glow of the Lightweaver flashed and warmed in recognition.

“Ah… the prodigal queen.”

The great golden doors closed and Rebis strode into the light. Short as ever, with the same rounded, childish face, but her frills sat higher and straighter than they ever had during their previous encounters. She knelt just outside the brightest perimeter of Weaver’s light, and dutifully payed her homage.

“I have returned, your Luminance."

“And brought with you the smell of ash and stardust,” the Weaver chided. “You could not spare time to be cleansed before coming into My presence?”

“No I could not,” said Rebis, with no trace of fear or indignity. She rose back to her feet, though she kept her eyes humbly cast down. “I had to spare an eon for my mind and the bodies of my knights to heal. Then another more to regain our strength and take the long path back. Sparing any more time would simply be too costly.”

The light shifted, as if the god within were reclining on a throne of Her own presence. “Yet you've spared the time to see me before all else. Diligent. Nearly devout… But I see a practical cause in your eyes.”

“I've come to receive your acknowledgement as an Archmage in your service.” “A strong way to phrase a request, child.” The light strobed slowly—muted, then warm, then stark white with whatever whims Lightweaver was entertaining. “What would you do, I wonder, were I to decline?” Rebis raised her eyes. They were more golden than they had been in nearly a full cycle, the sickly pink tinge of her contamination banished to a tight roseate ring around pupils that glowed white with her magic. 

“There's no correlation between my abilities and what you do or don't say to me before I am dismissed. I'd leave and go take care of business.”

The light shifted and flickered with the mirth of the deity within.  “Such a sweet little spine you've grown while the parasite has played in your streets! That is a convincing impression of Telos if ever I heard her insolence.”

Rebis' frills drooped. Her face crinkled as if the thought pained her, but she kept her head high and her eyes focused ahead. "I must respectfully disagree. Telos is gone, your Luminance. It's just me. If my tongue seems insolent, please forgive me and know it's only my eagerness to restore Analemma.”

“I'm sure it is. And you have chosen an interesting time to do so. The parasite is strong and so are you.” The light homed in on Rebis' face, forcing her back to her knees under the full and looming presence of the deity. “Let me look in your eyes and know what you have in mind…”

------------------------------------------------------------

Outside the golden doors, two guardians waited for their charge on the Exalt’s Path. 

The Beacon rumbled. They shared a look, but it was not the place of either of them to intrude of whatever might be happening inside.

Mere moments later, Rebis exited no worse for wear. 

"I presume things went well?" asked Rubranova.

Rebis smiled modestly as she marched ahead down the path. "She was as pleased with the depth of my spell as I imagined she would be."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. It’ll make things easier down the line. Right now, I wish to get down to business. Make your way to House Betelgeuse. Find my Tribunes, the margravines, and the beastclan intermediary and send them to me.”

Rubranova grinned wide and flex her massive hands, knuckles popping in a synchronous staccato. “And if should they resist?”

Rebis glanced at Arcanus. One of the resisters would definitely be the Tribune of Commerce—his beloved niece. The one who had nearly killed him.

“Drag them by their necks if you must."

"Yes, Your Majesty." With a cursory bow, Rubranova shed her glamour and flew off south toward House Betelgeuse.

Arcanus took his place at her side. The celestine resistant armor had gone un-repaired. There was simply no way to get a new set constructed in the chaos, so he remained just out of her reach, but close enough to defend her, if it came to that.

Without turning around, she knew the exact posture of his body and length of his stride. The passively intense expression when he was on guard that slightly tightened the contour of his jaw. She knew the set of his brow. he exact shade and shape of his lips. The sleek, inky silkiness of his hair, uncut since he left Telos’ side and kept neat by a long braid tucked into his armor.

She knew the new color of his eyes—tinted by the magic she had pushed into him while he lay physically alive but so magically depleted he would have died. She knew the exact spot on his abdomen where cauterization had left a fleshy splotch of scar tissue. And precisely where on that splotch she could find the ridge of an incision scar where Eaqarab and Heaven had to surgically remove Stellaria's horn. 

She even knew the precise amount of silver, roughly twice the length of her thumb, that still capped his right horn from when it had broken. It would be another two eons before it finished growing back.

So clear were all these details that she knew she loved him still, in some small and private way. But she was no longer consumed by adolescent carelessness at being by his side. There was something about nearly watching him die that forbade that kind of feeling from lingering. 

More than any dream of reciprocation or romance, her heart's desire was to protect him. She never wanted to see him on the brink of death in her name ever again. 

Luckily, becoming strong enough to protect her clan had the wonderful benefit of making her strong enough to protect herself. 

They crested the final hill and stood on the precipice of the valley that sloped mildly down until it became the Summerlands on the horizon. In the distance, the Courtyard of Five Lights glowed even in the daylight.

Rebis’ lips thinned, and she took off at a renewed march.

Under the arcades of the garden she had grown up in, it was almost like Brightshine was already underway. Sunchaser orbs littered the pale sandstone. Garlands of flowers, gemstones, and assorted glittering baubles hung from wherever they could be suspended and were wound around the pillars and colonnades where they could not. The mediation hall had been remade into a strange shape—undoubtedly by an abuse of Moyo’s architectural magics. It looked more like a child’s sandcastle than a structure.

Rebis’ eyes immediately turned in the opposite direction to assess the museum. But it was fine. Untouched, unaltered, and undecorated.

“Camellia,” said Arcanus.

The mere name set her at ease. Nothing would be even a centimeter out of place if Camellia had established the museum was under her protection.

She gently kicked a bauble aside and ascended the stairs into the Hall. The massive columns were undisturbed. The midnight colored banner rippled peacefully with the emblazoned crest of Analemma still whole between the gold trimmings.

“I’m a little disappointed,” Rebis said light-heartedly, shrugging her thin cloak off into Arcanus’ waiting arms. “I was hoping they would have decorated this place too.”

She made a beeline for the private quarters beyond the discreet entry way tucked against the back wall. While she didn’t feel a change of clothes was strictly necessary, it was appropriate. A thing for show, just like receiving the mantle of Archmage in official capacity when she very much already had the power.

She picked the first thing her eyes paused on. However, because her newfound lack of self-consciousness regarding taking care of her responsibilities had nothing to do with her still being a young dam, she still peeked over her shoulder to make sure her knight had politely turned his back before undressing.

The flowing cotton and smooth silk was practically ticklish on skin that had grown accustomed to thick wool and rough leather. Her old focus sat beneath the window. She fluffed her short curls around her crown and took it, even though she didn’t need it.

Telos had been a modest queen. A circlet rather than a crown. A simple stone chair rather than a throne. With fresh eyes, Rebis saw and understood that it was integral to Telos that she could make those things into something finer than they were by filling them with presence she already had by way of her ancestral experiences. In the end, she truly was an alchemist, transmuting common marbles into diamonds by her mere proximity to them.

Rebis was technically older than Telos had been when she took her place at the head of the clan, but she didn’t have any ability like that. What she had was the kind of power that could perhaps have protected the old clan from Lutia’s wrath.

Maybe it was two eons of living among mercenaries, but she suddenly had very different ideas about how she should present herself. She wasn’t Telos, she could not do what Telos did by trying to think or act as she did. Her time at Horizon’s Landing had taught her that, and for the first time, she was prepared to step out of the space Telos left behind and create a new one of her own.

But just like celebrating the accolade she had been granted, that would have to come later.

For now, she sat in the stone chair and glanced at the abandoned parchments scattered over the marble surface of the Tribunal table.They were old. Covered in dust and the cobwebs of spiders with adventurous ideas.

She gathered them all into a neat stack and waited.

Saber was the first to arrive and greeted her with as much warmth as desperation. She asked if anyone had died. When he told her the answer was no, she bade him hold his peace. Her absence and the enthrallment had left the clan’s affairs in tatters. Discussion would be long, intense, and undoubtedly boil over more than once. The last thing she wanted was to rehash any of it. They would wait until every single one of them was gathered to begin.

He seemed surprised but bowed his head and patiently sat down.

Ashes and Flaga arrived together in the company of Nayvadius. The champion greeted her with his same old insolent smile, but she just smiled back. Of course, he was fine. His unusual condition aside, he was the type of drake who wouldn’t die even if Bestealcian personally killed him.

Caress arrived with war in her eyes and Maka with carefully neutral temper in hers, but both were forced to yield before they could begin by the arrival of the Tahalils.

Rubranova landed with a powerful beat of her guardian wings and assumed her glamour between the vast pillars. She marched in dragging both Stellaria and Miscedence by coils of their hair wound tight around her relentless fists.

Alala, smaller but no less imposing than her daughter, followed in her wake with Samradh held at scalpel point. It was a deft matter for her to tie the three enthralled tribunes to their chairs before she took her seat with a pleasant smile.

With a flick of her fingers, Rebis cast lights into the high archways and corners, shedding a warm glow over the stone that would not otherwise arrive until the afternoon sun came in.

“I’m glad you to see most of you are well,” she began. “Those of you who aren’t, will be. I’m alive, I’m home, and I am not leaving until I have a concrete plan to restore this clan to its proper function. Neither are any of you. And yes--” She looked pointed at every one of them with eyes full of scorching inner light. “—That does include dealing with Titi-tet.”

Not a single one of them rushed to speak. All around her table, even from the enthralled, were wide eyes and parted lips. 

She sat back and folded her hands atop the cold marble. “Tribunal is in session.”

[eleanorose123]

Every moment of screentime Haga and Ryuzaki/Rex and Weevil had in the Yu-Gi-Oh! series

Documented with screenshots for most of the events (not all since I lack the episodes as of this moment). Please let me know if I’ve missed anything (I know for a fact Haga was mentioned several times during Jounouchi’s duels in the Battle City finals), I did this on a whim.

HERE WE GO

Their debut shows Haga and Ryuzaki at the Japan National Championship finals, with Haga from the east division and Ryuzaki from the west. Haga wins through strategy over Ryuzaki’s strength heavy dinosaurs. After winning the championship, Pegasus gives Haga his award as well as a small tip regarding Duelist Kingdom rules. (Episode 2)

Riding the high of their victory, Haga and Ryuzaki spent a lot of time together basking in the glory of being respected by others. A boy asks for their autograph and they do it for the price of one of the boy’s cards. (Episode 161 flashback)

On the cruise ship to Duelist Kingdom, Haga and Ryuzaki were given private rooms. Haga ends up “befriending” Yugi, while Ryuzaki gets seduced by Mai into letting her into his room. Haga takes Yugi’s Exodia cards and throws them off the ship into the ocean in an attempt to avoid competition. Ryuzaki gets tricked by Mai and ends up getting kicked out of his room. (Episode 3)

Upon arriving to Duelist Kingdom, Yugi immediately challenges Haga. Haga lures Yugi to a forest field where his deck would have an advantage thanks to Pegasus’ advice. Yugi, determined to eliminate Haga, bets his deck against Haga’s two star chips. Haga loses, and is the first elimination of the tournament. (Episodes 4-5)

Haga had to wait on a rowboat for other eliminated duelists to arrive before leaving the island (Episode 8)

Ryuzaki acquired 3 more star chips, and attempted to challenge Mai. Mai refused, but encouraged Ryuzaki to challenge Jounouchi before dueling her. Ryuzaki dueled Jounouchi, and halfway through made a bet with Jounouchi over their rare cards. Ryuzaki bets his Red Eyes Black Dragon, and tells Jounouchi to bet Time Wizard (so Ryuzaki can use it against Mai). This caused Jounouchi to realize how to win the duel, and wins the Red Eyes Black Dragon. (Episodes 11-12)

Ryuzaki doesn’t make it to the finals. (O/S)

Upon returning to the mainland, the tides have turned against Haga and Ryuzaki. Anywhere they went, people would dismiss or berate them for their loss, regretting any and all respect they had for the duelist prior. Out of frustration, Haga ends up having a violent fit in alley one rainy day, with Ryuzaki watching on. A gang of high schoolers find them and beat them unconscious, the leader of the gang being the older brother of the kid who asked for an autograph prior. Returning the card to his brother, the kid remarks how he threw out their autograph out of embarrassment. (Episode 161 flashback)

Haga and Ryuzaki are present together for the Battle City announcement. (Episode 54)

Haga and Ryuzaki are invited to the Battle City tournament and pass the requirements with Haga being a level 7 duelist and Ryuzaki being a level 6. (O/S)

During the opening day of Battle City, Haga and Ryuzaki approach Yugi and Mai, both claiming they’ve improved their decks and are ready to get their revenge and victory. Kajiki arrives on the scene with similar goals, although not as vicious. The group all split ways as the tournament kicks off. (Episode 56)

Ryuzaki is shown losing a duel against Esper Roba, due to the duelist’s intimidation and cheating methods. Ryuzaki reluctantly gives Roba his Serpent Night Dragon, a prize he got for winning second in the Nationals as well as his puzzle card. It is unknown if that was his sole puzzle card, but considering how early the duel was in the tournament, it was implied. Ryuzaki stays for Jounouchi’s duel against Roba, informing Jounouchi of the rule changes. (Episodes 58-59)

Haga tricks a boy into working for him with the offer of a rare card. He has the boy steal Jounouchi’s duel disk specifically to plant a parasite card into Jounouchi’s deck. The boy tell Jounouchi Haga stole his duel disk and deck in order to have Jounouchi meet Haga at a location near a fountain. The boy receives a common card as his payment, and Haga dismisses him, his work done. Upon meeting with Jounouchi, Haga is notably disgruntled over the boy saying Haga stole a deck/duel disk, but waves it off as he got what he wanted anyway. Haga demands they bet both their puzzle cards for the duel, with the intention of kicking Jounouchi out of the tournament before going after Yugi to finish his revenge for Duelist Kingdom. They duel, and Haga’s parasite trick comes into play halfway through the duel. Jounouchi makes a comeback and kicks Haga out of the tournament as a result. (Episodes 63-64)

Jounouchi takes Haga’s Insect Queen card over his Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth. Jounouchi lies and says it was because he couldn’t use the Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth without other cards, but Anzu knows it was out of pity. (Episode 65)

Haga and Ryuzaki are shown watching the Kaiba/Yugi finals duel in a crowd (Episodes 130-131)

Haga and Ryuzaki are shown sitting together in the city while the finals duel plays on televisions. (Pyramid of Light Movie)

Haga and Ryuzaki end up (literally) bumping into each other on the street. Both realize the other was affected by the finals duel and both have a desire to obtain Yugi’s God cards, and try to outrun each other in an attempt to get them first. They collide into a bearded man who challenges them to a duel. They lose, and additionally lose their souls. Their soulless bodies mutter on about death and destruction (Episode 145)

After Yugi wins against the bearded man, Haga and Ryuzaki’s souls are returned to them, and the two are questioned by Yugi and co. about what happened to them. They are intrigued by the fact that Yugi lost his God cards and both have a desire to get them for themselves. Although, they are still hesitant on working together for such things. (Episode 146)

Haga plants a listening device in Yugi’s house, where he and Ryuzaki overhear Pegasus’ urgent invitation to America, and misinterpreting the invitation as an opportunity to get rare cards, Haga and Ryuzaki decide to follow them overseas, Haga already having a plan as to how. Using a large luggage bag, the two stowaway for the airplane ride, despite freezing and getting knocked unconscious. Being mistaken as “lost luggage”, the bag, as well as the boys, are sent off elsewhere on in a truck (Episode 148)

After sleeping in an awkward arrangement, the two wake up in a frantic panic, falling out of the truck and the luggage bag into gang territory. The two clung to each other in terror. (Episode 149)

Presumably after a beating, the two are aimlessly wandering through alleys, trying to find Yugi and the others, before a thief pickpockets Haga’s wallet. The thief is stopped by Otogi, who gives the two a ride, believing them both to be friends with Yugi. The three head to Illusion Industries to meet with the others. (Episode 151)

Seeing the destroyed gas station, the three continue their journey, at a faster speed. (Episode 152)

The three arrive as Mai duels Jounouchi with the Orichalcos. Haga and Ryuzaki exclaim how the card Mai was using was the card they lost against, and proceed to act as commentary alongside Yugi, Honda and Anzu. (Episode 153)

Haga and Ryuzaki continue to be confused over the rare card Jounouchi seems to get out of nowhere, and are ignored completely by the rest of the group. They follow and try to rummage through a room for potential rare cards, still unaware of the overarching plot occurring. (Episode 154)

After finally being noticed by the others, Haga and Ryuzaki travel with the group by sitting in the trunk of Otogi’s car. Their curiosity with the Orichalcos grows as they recall Mai’s duel. After Rebecca’s home is destroyed, the two sneak out at dinner time to search the rummage fro any rare cards. Ryuzaki becomes frustrated and tired, and he and Haga remark over how hungry they were and how they wish they could have some of their favorite home foods. They end up overhearing Yugi going off to duel Raphael, and follow him on a tandem bicycle. (Episode 155)

Haga and Ryuzaki fall down a hill to near where Yugi is dueling, and sit and watch it unfold. (Episode 156)

Haga and Ryuzaki watch the duel with immense interest but miss out on certain plot elements, much to their confusion. (Episode 157)

They continue watching the duel until Jounouchi, Honda and Otogi arrive. Jounouchi grabs Haga by the shirt collar demanding to know why Yugi is using the Orichalcos, to which Ryuzaki had to step in, explain the situation, and help Haga down. They watch the rest of the duel until Yugi loses, and Haga and Ryuzaki decide to follow Doma in hopes of getting the Orichalcos power for themselves. (Episode 158)

Chasing down the helicopter, Haga and Ryuzaki manage to convince Raphael into letting them come with him. Arriving at Doma headquarters, they are encouraged to be polite to Dartz. It’s through Dartz talking with his men that Haga and Ryuzaki are told about the fact Yugi has two souls in him. When Dartz remarks on how they still need to obtain the Pharaoh’s soul, Haga and Ryuzaki step in hoping to take the mission for themselves. Frustrated that they were never heard about, they plead to let Dartz give them a chance, and how they just want people to stop treating them like nobodies. Dartz offers them the stones of the Orichalcos in which if Haga and Ryuzaki could hold the stones they could have the Orichalcos power for themselves, but if they can’t, they lose their souls, to which the two clung to each other in a panic. They decide to take the risk and for a while it seems like they’ll fail. Ryuzaki remarks how he knew it’d be impossible for him, but Haga yells at him not to give up, and they both manage to grab the stones. Dartz gives them access to Doma’s vast card collections to improve their decks, preparing them for their mission. (Episode 159)

Separating the train Yugi and co were taking, Haga duels Yugi on top of the moving train front while Ryuzaki duels Jounouchi at the other half of the train. Both Haga and Ryuzaki use the Orichalcos quickly, and proclaim this is the start of their revenge to the duelists that tore their pride apart. While Haga uses emotionally manipulative and provoking methods against Yugi, including tricking him into thinking he’d torn up Yugi’s soul, Ryuzaki becomes more emotionally vulnerable in his duel, particularly when Jounouchi brings out his Red Eyes Black Dragon. It’s then that Haga and Ryuzaki tell their rivals their struggles after Duelist Kingdom, Haga far more dismissive about it, and Ryuzaki refusing to accept any true pity from Jounouchi. Ryuzaki loses and loses his soul, while Haga loses his duel but is attacked relentlessly even after losing his life points, until his soul is taken from him. Yugi shakes Haga’s corpse for information on what happened to Yugi, of course not getting an answer. The train derails and they all fall off a cliff. (Episode 160-162)

Haga’s body was taken to a hospital, and his ghost appears as one of the lives the Pharaoh ruined. (Episode 163)

Honda is carrying Ryuzaki’s body. (Episode 164)

Jounouchi becomes exhausted carrying Ryuzaki’s body but presses on. Both Jounouchi and Honda are exhausted of carrying Ryuzaki’s body later. (Episode 165)

Jounouchi, still carrying Ryuzaki’s body, gets frightened by a rattlesnake. (Episode 166)

Jounouchi is still carrying Ryuzaki. (Episode 167)

Ryuzaki and Amelda’s soulless bodies are taken to hospital. (Episode 168)

Haga and Ryuzaki’s souls were shown with the other victims of the Orichalcos, and alongside the others are encouraged to remember that even with the lasting darkness within everyone’s hearts, they should also remember the friends they’ve fought alongside and cared for throughout everything. (Episode 183)

When everyone’s souls were free, Haga and Ryuzaki awaken side by side in a hospital, and after questioning what the other was doing there, the two ran out together determined to still get their revenge on Yugi and Jounouchi. (Episode 184)

Still stuck in America, and drawn to a tournament, Haga and Ryuzaki travelled to Kaiba Land exhausted, Ryuzaki inspiring Haga with the notion of them having another chance to prove themselves. (Episode 188)

Haga comes up with a plan to steal the clothes of an invited duelist so the two of them can enter the tournament, much to Ryuzaki’s reluctance and eventual acceptance. The two corner a duelist in the bathroom and Haga sits on Ryuzaki’s shoulders as they fake it. They end up tripping over on their way to their scheduled duel against Siefried, and Mokuba threatens to kick them out for their cheating. Siegfried allows the two to duel him as a demonstration of his power, and Haga and Ryuzaki bring out two of their powerhouses on their first turns. Siefried ends up winning against them both in one turn. (Episode 189)

Haga and Ryuzaki were shown getting dragged out of Kaiba Land and sent back home on an airplane. (Episode 190)

Haga and Ryuzaki were shown begrudgingly watching the finals of the tournament back home. (Episode 198)

As a last ditch effort to get the God cards, Haga and Ryuzaki break into Yugi’s room in the night and make off with his bag holding the God cards and the Millennium Items. They are confused by the artifacts, and watch the Millennium Ring go to Yami Bakura, who they recognize as one of Yugi’s friends. Yugi finds Haga and Ryuzaki unconscious by Bakura’s feet. (Episode 199-200)

Haga and Ryuzaki were shown being affected by the world’s destruction as Bakura and the Pharaoh face off. (Episode 215)

Haga and Ryuzaki hid amongst the present world’s destruction, hoping everything was alright after all that. (Episode 219)

Haga and Ryuzaki were shown walking amongst the wreckage in a montage of people that affected the Pharaoh’s life. (Episode 220)

Their final scene shows Haga and Ryuzaki arguing with each other over something before Ryuzaki challenges Haga to a duel, to which he accepts gladly. (Episode 224 epilogue)

Haga and Ryuzaki were shown in a crowd together.  (The Dark Side of the Dimensions Movie) (top left corner)

[odogaronfang]

[[ @clumsybooknerd hi Tala!!! i was assigned to be your secret santa this year, and after looking through your blog to get an idea of what to do i came across your vampire au! so i thought i could write for that for the @imaginefourswords secret santa gift! i didn’t see too many details on it, so i hope this is okay- merry christmas, happy hanukkah, or just happy holidays!]]

Vampires were, for the longest time, thought to be the stuff of legends. Myths made by the ancients to explain the phenomena they didn’t understand- stories told by disenchanted parents to frighten children into behaving themselves- tales to tell at campfires under a new moon, with the certainty of a jumpscare to punctuate. And every so often someone would go missing, off the streets of a bustling city or from the gold-wheat fields of the rurals, and it would be chalked up to humans; so sick, so terrible, the human trafficking, awful things going on in our world, but oh well, what can you do. Some of them were even found, with little paired pinpricks littering their bodies, pale and gray, wrinkled and lifeless, sunken-eyed with skin too large for their bodies. Snakes, it’d be dismissed as, so often, too often- went to close to a nest, got bitten, venom did them in. Or bats, a swarm, a moon-snuffing flock, overwhelmed them and fed off them.

The latter was far closer to the truth, as people later discovered. A few of the newer-turned got careless, too sloppy with their schedules and their choices, and got caught in the act. Not caught, never taken into custody, but seen and sometimes filmed, and as much as authorities wanted to keep it under wraps, the truth came out eventually. There was panic, fear, accusations, riots, a general chaos that for quite some time disbanded all sense of trust and order among the people, comparable to the witch hunts of old. But from that rose the new profession of hunters; vigilantes at first, but soon a trusted and revered group, only the most diligent and skilled accepted into their ranks.

“I just don’t understand,” Zelda says, rolls up the map and throws it to her companions, “They’re supposed to be following some sort of pattern. And they’re not.”

“They are, down by Kakariko, I think.” Red takes the map, looks over the dots marked down, color-coded and varied in size. “From the reports I’ve read, at least. This is like, an isolated thing. Whatever’s going on down here isn’t the norm.”

“It might be a shift in tribes,” She suggests, shuts her laptop and rests her head in her arms. “I’ve heard of that happening before.”

“Maybe we could send someone in to see.” Green’s taking shots at the wastebasket with paper balls and has yet to make one.

“Really? Do we have anyone that can shapeshift?”

“No, but Green can teleport! As soon as it’s lunchtime he’s gone.”

“Hey, tracking vamps is hungry work.”

“Half the time we’re just staring at maps and guessing at things. The other half of the time it’s paperwork.”

“You’re forgetting the half where we hunt.”

“Green, how many halves are in a whole?”

“None. It’s a hole.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Whatever,” Zelda interjects, before they can start up an argument, “We haven’t actually gone hunting in months. We have to stare at maps and guess at things and guess them accurately before we can risk that kind of thing, and everything we’ve predicted has been way off.”

“I hear Valensuela’s thinking of calling some out-of-district help.”

“Uh, no thanks, those dudes are complete as-”

“Annoying. Very annoying. They don’t know how we operate here.”

“Not at all, apparently.”

“We just need to figure out what’s going on with them!”

“And how are we supposed to do that? It’s unpredictable!”

“Then maybe we just need to station lookouts.”

“Green, no way are we doing stakeouts. We have lives.”

“And we also save lives, and this is what we need to be doing to do that!”

Zelda would very much like to argue with that, but it’s a valid point, and if they don’t get something done it’s going to be a serious threat to job security. “...I’ll bring it to Valensuela in the morning.”

-

Vampires were, for the longest time, thought to be the stuff of legends, and it was this that kept them secure and hidden in their hunts. Something that was not real could not be combatted, and something that was not real could not be killing anyway, therefore it clearly must be something else, one among themselves. Those times were the easy ones. Pick off the wanderers deep in the forest at night, sneak into a house or two in the abandoned months, slip in and slip out smooth as silk and quiet as a shadow. Societies were loose and informal, and skill preceded age in the hierarchies that colonies tended to fall into. The longest fangs, the sharpest claws, the most bloodthirsty, those were what won the seat as ruler.

Then greed overcame prudence, and form became sloppy, and the turned were more in numbers and less in skill, and it wasn’t long after that they were found out. And so prudence had to win out over greed, and the life of ease and lavish became the life of covert and secrecy, and a rigid order under which all turned were governed. The stealthiest shifters, the seductive, the efficient, the largely normal, those now filled the roles at the top, and dictated the code of the colonies. Those who disobeyed were staked and left to the sun’s whims. There was no other choice.

“D’you know who’s supposed to be out feeding tonight?”

“I have not heard. The elder said nothing of it to me.”

“He’s not saying anything.” Shadow huffs, settles irritably into his hammock. “He gripes about schedules and policy and then doesn’t issue anything. So now we’re getting twenty kills in a night and then radio silence for a month. ‘N I’m hungry.”

“You ate two days ago.”

He points a finger at Vio. “Technically I didn’t. Well, not much. I gave most of it to you ‘cause you’re new. You’ll see, once you’re older you’re gonna need more.”

“I am older than you were when you say you were turned.”

“Okay, well, I have years on you. Like, decades at least, so you need to respect your seniors or whatever that human phrase is and listen to me.”

“You are required to see to my well-being. I am under no such obligation to you.” He smiles caustically at Shadow. “Already some have noted that I am more skilled than you were.”

“It’s ‘cause you had a good teacher.”

“You turned me and did not show your face for two months.”

“I thought I’d just killed you! You weren’t supposed to turn, I didn’t know it was a new moon, the clouds were too heavy.”

“I am ever indebted to you,” Vio says, sardonic as ever, “How merciful.”

Shadow rolls his eyes, turns over to see whether the elder’s ledge is occupied. It’s not, of course; he’s been gone days now, with no signs of when he’ll return, and the colony has started to grow restless.

“Oh, screw this. C’mon, Vio, we’re gonna hunt. I’m gonna starve to death at this rate.”

“That may be an improvement.”

“Shut up and shift, idiot. You’re coming whether you like it or not.”

Vio, reluctantly, does. And Shadow insists on leading, as he always does, and chooses the target, as he always does. Shadow chooses an alley, perfect, of course, for its darkness and seclusion, perches on the ledge of a narrow rickety overhang and leaves him to find his own.

“They pass through here all the time,” Shadow says, by way of explanation. “Eager to get home, I think. Not so worried about getting killed as getting back in bed.”

“A sentiment I share.”

“You’d rather me starve?”

“Sometimes I think so.”

They share in the silence for a while, companionable if a little tense, watching pedestrians cut through their alley to the avenue on the other side, waiting for a likely candidate, waiting for a good time. It’s a while before they get it, and even then that’s questionable; Shadow’s hungry, and makes it abundantly clear that he is getting a meal and getting it tonight.

“Him,” Shadow hisses, points at a man shorter in stature, earplugs in, paying no attention to his surroundings.

Vio isn’t so sure- but he hasn’t got time to protest, because Shadow’s dropped before he can manage a word.

“Easy,” Shadow says, with a terrible fanged grin, “Won’t know we’re here ‘til we’re on him.”

He creeps up behind the man, reaches a hand out to grab his neck-

-And the guy nearly breaks his arm getting him away.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, pal?!”

Shadow makes a noise that’s half a growl; that’s all the time it takes for the man to realize what kind of situation he’s in. He turns, to make a break for it, if he can get to the church down the street he might be able to make it, churches are supposed to keep them out right- but Vio’s there, cool and largely apathetic, arms crossed and gaze icy.

“Make this easy for yourself,” He says, with a softness that contrasts sharply to literally everything else going on, “This is nothing personal.”

“You screw off right now,” The man yells, and looks around for something, anything to fight with, throws a hard fist into Shadow’s face as he advances. He turns to Vio again, sees he isn’t approaching, chances a moment to turn around to scan the area and when he looks back there’s Vio, a dagger gleaming in his palm.

“I am only trying to make this simple for everyone,” He says, and with a shrug, plunges the blade into the man’s stomach.

Had it been anyone less resolved it might really be over then. But it’s Blue, and Blue isn’t very well going to hand over his life to a couple of bloodsucking parasites. He can’t just rip the knife out- he knows that from his late-night binges of crime fiction.

“Get him,” Shadow hisses, nose bent unnaturally, blood oozing far too slow from the wound, “What are you waiting for you useless piece of garbage-”

“I am not the hungry one. Fetch your own meal.”

Shadow stalks over, shoves him out of the way to chase after Blue, who’s managing a (relatively) fast shamble away, taking advantage of the distraction. He makes it to the end of the alley, is barely out in broad moonlight before Shadow shoves him to the ground- the impact only buries the knife in deeper- hovers over him with the reddest eyes he’s ever seen, and he’s sure that it’s over then but he hears a shout, and then the blare of a siren, brief and sharp and loud.

Shadow swears, drags Vio off into the darkness cursing a blue streak as he goes, and all Blue can manage is a half-sigh of relief as the officer rushes over.

“Sir,” Says the officer, gun in hand, as he runs up, “Sir, what’s going on?”

He could say vampires (and likely be mocked for it) or he could lie. “I don’t know,” He says, a half truth, because really he doesn’t know, not for sure. “One- One minute I was walkin’ and the next I got stabbed.”

“I’m sending for an ambulance,” Says the officer, “Where is the wound?”

“Stomach,” Blue answers, and feels himself starting to slip, and it takes considerable effort just to turn so the ground isn’t pushing the knife in further.

“Sir, stay awake, the EMTs are on their way. What’s your name?”

“Blue.”

“Where were you headed tonight, Blue?”

“Jus’ home. Long day at work.”

“Any plans for the day?”

“Emergency room, apparently.”

“Well, Blue, at least you’ve got a story to tell now.”

A story indeed, he thinks, miserable and angry.

He’s out of it beyond that, too dizzy and light-headed from blood loss, can hardly manage to lift a finger as the EMTs assess his condition and haul out the stretcher. He’s out for a while- later he suspects they drugged his IV en route- wakes in the cold white sterility of a hospital room, stomach good and bandaged with a needle stuck in his arm. What he wouldn’t give for a Hollywood exit, to rip it out and collect his things and be off, but he’s weak and tired and above all hungry. A few nurses are in and out, give him a plate of terrible hospital food that tastes like soggy cardboard and sawdust. Before the morphine kicks in he resolves to call Erune about bringing him some real food, and maybe see if he can get in contact with the local hunters’ legion.

[wanderbitesbybobbie]

ANTIQUE: Misadventures and Cold Springs

Antique (An-ti-ke), that is how you pronounce it. My foreign friends were puzzled when I posted my Antique photos on my Instagram Account and wouldn’t stop asking where in the world I was. “It’s Antique, friends!” It’s a province in the Philippines located in the Western Part of the Visayas Region. It’s not “antique”, the adjective that you use to describe something ancient. It’s AN-TI-KE. Please don’t be confused.

I generally had no idea what I’m putting myself into when I decided to travel to Antique by land from Iloilo. But just as they say, the moments of happiness that we enjoy take us by surprise. On a rainy day, I flew from Manila to Iloilo to visit my good friends, Krizia and Mike. I also had some travel writing business to attend to so it was a two-in-one trip. I always stay with them every time I travel to Iloilo. I am very grateful that they receive me in their home very openly each time. I only had a few days left from my vacation in the Philippines. I was scheduled to go back to Sydney in two weeks, so I promised myself that I would make the most out of the remaining days. I have told Krizia that I wanted to go hiking at Mararison Island to take photos of “Rafflesias“. You know, the huge flowers that eat humans. Just kidding. They eat parasites, but whatever. They are carnivores, and it is fascinating to see some of the species up close and personal. I was very excited to see them. Mike was actually thrilled too, as he is a big fan of things like those, plants, animals, and nature. Both of them are animal and nature-lovers which makes them a very compatible super couple. But during that time, Mike was exceedingly interested to see a Rafflesia in person. So over dinner and a couple of beers, we planned our Antique itinerary. For this trip, I spent my “Day 1” just food-blogging around Iloilo since I was invited by a number of restaurants and cafes prior to my arrival. That night we planned my “Day 2”. We googled everything from transportation to activities, and in a snap, we weren’t going to Mararison anymore. There was a better eco-tourist spot in the middle of a lush tropical rain forest. MALUMPATI COLD SPRINGS.

Photo from TripAdvisor

Oh my gosh! The google images were just so captivating that we have to experience it ourselves. No. Actually, WE NEED TO EXPERIENCE IT OURSELVES. It has become imperative now, it’s not just a whim anymore. That was it, the deciding point! We’re ditching Mararison! The planned itinerary was:

Take the earliest bus to Antique, head straight to Pandan (where Malumpati Cold Springs is located)

Stop by Tibiao on the way back to experience the very intriguing Kawa Hot Bath, maybe get a chance to see a Rafflesia somewhere

Head back to Iloilo before night time.

It’s gonna be a one day trip, so we all settled to go to bed early so we can catch the first bus. Another friend was coming with us. It was the first time I have met Kim that time. He went with us for dinner the night before, and he was a part of the “Day 2 Planning”. Kim is years younger than us. He’s a unicorn (well at least that’s what his Facebook Profile says). He’s in his early twenties and this guy has a very contagious laughter. He’s the type of person that will liven up a very boring classroom. It was just at that night that he have decided to come with us. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, but Kim made everything extra fun – starting from the bus ride.

THE CERES BUS RIDE

If you will google “How to go to Antique from Iloilo”, the first thing that would come up is the Iloilo International Airport. Apparently, Google suggests that the fastest way to Antique is by plane. But, that was not an option for us. We were working on a very limited budget so we all woke up early and proceeded to the Ceres Bus Terminal in Molo. As early as 5:15 AM, we were already out, riding a jeepney from Jaro to Molo to catch the 6:00 AM bus. Based on what we have researched, we would be arriving in Antique by 8:30 to 9:00 AM. We decided to skip shower that morning (we took a shower the night before), since we would be plunging in the cold springs in a matter of two and a half hours anyway. Plus the fact that it was really cold in the crack of dawn. So the three of us were already in the bus, Mike, Krizia, and me. The bus conductor handed over our tickets and reminded us that the bus would be leaving at exactly 6:00 AM. OMG. Kim was still missing in action. We thought he was already at the bus station, but there was no sign of Kim anywhere. Where is he? Is he still asleep? We did not receive any replies via SMS. We kept on calling his mobile, and that was the only time he finally answered. There’s only 5 minutes left, the bus would be leaving, and Kim was running from his house to the bus station. There were no jeepneys in his area, so he was forced to walk (I mean run). The conductor kept on checking up on us and Krizia kept on apologizing in Ilonggo (the dialect in Iloilo). The bus driver started the engine. We were all stressed out so early in the morning. Kim was on loud speaker and he talked to the bus conductor saying that he was only 5 minutes away. We could hear him panting in the background. The driver drove slowly and asked which way was Kim coming from. They explained to us that we cannot wait for him any longer because the bus timetable would be messed up. We cannot be late, otherwise we would be delaying the next bus schedule. OMG. Finally, there was Kim. Running a few meters behind the bus. We started laughing at the mere sight of him struggling to catch the bus with his backpack. He was waving at the bus conductor yelling, “I’m here! I’m here!” in Ilonggo. He was out of breath when he stepped inside the bus. The conductor literally pulled him up from the bus entrance, and all the other passengers started to laugh. Whew! That was a close call. He almost missed the bus!

It was the start of the long bus ride. A ticket to Antique cost us P210 ($7.50 AUD) for a non air-conditioned bus. I chose a window seat to get a hold of some fresh air, and I immediately fell asleep as soon as the bus started running.

In a couple of hours, the bus stopped. I was already feeling the hot breeze on my face, the sun was already up so I was wide awake. It was around 9:00 AM and we have finally arrived in Antique. It was a 3-hour travel. But the thing is, we haven’t arrived at our destination yet. The conductor informed us that it would take another hour before we reach Pandan. We were just stopping by to stretch out a bit and for a quick toilet break. It was the final stop for most of the passengers so there was less than half of the people in the bus. As we headed on, the people in the bus went down one by one until there were only a few left. The bus probably stopped for about 15 times before we finally reached Pandan. It seemed endless. By the time we got there, it was only the 4 of us left inside the bus plus the driver and bus conductor.

IT WASN’T ANOTHER HOUR. IT WAS A TOTAL LIE. It was already around 11:30 AM when we finally reached Pandan Bus Terminal! Like whooooot??? So much for sunbathing at 9! I kept on asking the conductor if we were there yet each time the bus would stop. I probably pissed him off for asking every half hour. I felt so stupid. I was the leader of the pack, how could I miss this part from my google searches? We were just so enticed with the picturesque view of Malumpati Cold Springs, that we just missed that part where it says it’s another 3 freaking hours from the main proper of Tibiao. We were so exhausted from the bus ride. We felt sticky and grouchy from the very humid weather. The sun was glaring at us! Remember, we didn’t take a shower thinking we would be bathing in the Cold Springs by that time. But no. We were in the middle of Pandan Bus Terminal, not knowing where to go next. I took out my phone and started to check out Google Maps to navigate. Signal was on and off. I needed to find a data spot. It sounds like a scene from a thriller movie. No signal + stuck in the middle of somewhere. As soon as my data started working, I instantly turned on my GPS. Good grief!!! Our location pin was at the end of the island, a few minutes away we could already be in Boracay Island. 7 freaking hours of travel by land! We should have just gone to Boracay for goodness sake! What in the world was I thinking? I don’t remember signing up for a 7-hour land travel! Had I known that it would be a laborious travel, I would have pushed through with Mararison. How could this be such an epic fail?

But anyway, Google says it’s another half hour to reach Malumpati Cold Springs. We hailed a tricycle to take us there. We traversed for about 20 minutes. We paid for P50 ($1.5 AUD) per head, so a total of P200 ($6 AUD) for the 4 of us. A signage welcomed us by the entrance.

We paid the entrance fees and to our luck, the road to the cold springs was steep. We all had to get off to help the driver push his tricycle. We were already so pissed at this point. We were so behind our schedule! We were already ranting all the way through, both in Tagalog (Manila dialect) and in Ilonggo. Upon hearing our frustrations, the tricycle driver offered to pick us up for free. It was already past 12 noon and we all agreed to return to the bus terminal at 3:00 PM. You can just imagine how exasperated we were. THE FREAKING LAND TRAVEL WAS LONGER THAN OUR STAY. In the original schedule, we’re supposed to be traveling back to Iloilo by 3:00 PM. But we cannot skip the rest of the itinerary at this point. Not when we’ve traveled a long way already.

MALUMPATI COLD SPRINGS, FINALLY!

Our first look into the cold springs, we were like, “Ito na ‘yun?” (This is it?) We felt like our expectations weren’t met because we traveled all the way from Iloilo just to see what was in front of us. We have all declared IT WAS NOT WORTH IT! The butt-hurts from the long raging hours in the bus, the steep tricycle ride… and this was it? Our point of view has changed however after we settled down, refreshed ourselves, and took another look. All of a sudden, it has become beautiful without any pretenses.

It is true that seeing things from a composed outlook alters everything. I wowed my Instagram followers with a view of the cold springs. Every angle, wherever you look is just invigorating. I badly wanted to jump into the waters as soon as I saw it, but I pacified myself from over-excitement. I have this mentality that if you are too happy, something unlucky would come up next. So calm down! Calm down, Bobbie! The 4 of us decided to have lunch first before we explored the entirety of it.

Since we came in late, we had less to none choices for lunch. We had no right to be picky. There was a small canteen near the life-vest rental shack, and it was the only stall that was open that time. We devoured whatever was left in their food keepers and realized we could have saved a lot more by bringing our packed lunch if we had planned this better. Our 7-hour travel made us really hungry. We haven’t had anything since we woke up at 5:00 AM.

This happens to be our view as a compensation for all the inconvenience. Since we came on a weekday, we had the place to ourselves. Krizia had to warn me every now and then to be careful with places like this. I am a very inquisitive person. Every time I go somewhere, the “travel journalist” in me automatically comes out. But on this particular trip, I was careful. We were visitors, and we don’t know the people (and the creatures) that reside in the place. There are a lot of mythical stories in this part of the country, it is best not to stare at people and mind your own business. The cold springs might be enchanted by some fairy spirits or something. I’m sorry, I did not mean to spook you or creep you out in any way. I am not a believer of myths myself. They are called myths for a reason. But it’s always better safe than sorry.

The 16-feet pristine spring water is very inviting. It looks like a natural pool with trees and wooden bridges on the facade. Aside from swimming, there are other activities that can be enjoyed in Malumpati Cold Springs. You can go “water tubing”, where you ride the inner tube of a rubber tire and steer your way through the gushing waters on the other side of the springs. A guide will help you navigate. It’s like wild water rafting, but it’s not as wild. There’s also rappelling, zip-lining, and trekking, of course every activity has a price.

RAPPEL: P50 ($1.50 AUD)

TREKKING WITH GUIDE: P150-P200 ($5-6 AUD)

ZIPLINE: P200 ($6 AUD)

WATER TUBING: P200 ($6 AUD)

We just decided to rent a rubber tube without fully experiencing water tubing. We had very limited time, as we still planned to push through with our intended itinerary despite the fact that we were already so behind schedule.

We didn’t have any other choice anyway. We were already there. What else could we do but to jump into the turquoise waters and enjoy the view. I even brought my favorite goggles with me and the funny part is… I LOST IT THERE! It was just a pair of goggles, I know. But a little mishap like that, added to all the other misfortunes we went through just to get there ignited our belief that the day of this misdaventure just doesn’t end there.

TO BE CONTINUED…

HAVE YOU BEEN TO ANTIQUE?

WHERE EXACTLY DID YOU GO?

HOW WAS YOUR EXPERIENCE?

I’D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU!

ANTIQUE: Misadventures and Cold Springs was originally published on WanderBitesByBobbie

[frxggi]

[VICTON] Parasitism for the Mutual Benefit

Greetings, loved ones. It’s me, Froggi, back with some painful shit. This scenario is a continuation of Late Night Confessions, which is like, the second fic I’ve ever posted so I suggest you read that one first but be warned it’s beta as hell. Also, side note, Seungwoo is an asshole in this, don’t @ me.  P.S. Yes this was requested, but again, lost the screenshot lol. 

Genre: Angst Word count: 2,113 Warnings: Implied emotionally abusive relationship Feedback is always appreciated, thank you and goodnight

Unpredictable, is probably the best descriptor of your budding relationship with Seungwoo. What had started as a late night confession of mutual feelings had turned into a slow build of pent up emotions and hesitation. There were times where Seungwoo would sweep you off your feet and have you up in the clouds, where he’d have you completely enraptured with just one glance or one minute brushing of his hand against yours. Other times, it felt like he was a complete stranger, either ignoring you completely or treating you like an impudent child, like it inconvenienced him to even be around you. You know he’s busy; you’re busy too, what with Victon wrapping up promotions and your own group preparing for your first comeback. Still, through all the chaos, you do your best to make time for him. You often drop everything at his every beck and call, so shouldn’t it be only fair he do the same for you, the girl he’s supposed to be dating? 

That’s another thing that bothers you; his refusal to acknowledge just exactly what you are to him. He takes you out on dates, yeah. Kisses you, sure. Seungwoo does everything you think a boyfriend would do, but he won’t let you call him such. You had asked him about it, one late night about six weeks into your relationship. The two of you had snuck out of the building together, per his desire of course; he’s yet to comply to any of your requests for time together. You sat, wrapped up in his arms as he pointed out different constellations. It was one of those wonderful nights, where he’d capture your attention and make you forget about everything but him. He had made you feel like the only girl in the whole wide world, that night, only the hopeful atmosphere had shattered shortly after midnight. “You know,” you breathed, breaking away from his lips and allowing a smile to stretch across your countenance when he chased after them. “We’ve been dating for six weeks now.” “Don’t.” He warned, the softness of his hands as they soothingly stroke up and down your sides betraying the sternness of his voice. “You say that every time, Seungwoo.” You sighed, letting your hands fall meekly into your lap. “I know, baby. I just think we should take things slow. I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for.” He had said, vicious words hidden behind a heart stopping smile and you knew that you should have stopped it right then and there. Seungwoo was looking at you like you were the center of the universe, though, and under a gaze so adoring you found it near impossible to fight against it. You were ready, though. You were ready from the moment he had confessed his feelings to you, six weeks prior. You were ready to gladly go to the ends of the earth for him, but you knew he wouldn’t do the same.  

Even now, a whole three months into your relationship, you would stop everything for him without a second thought, and that idea infuriates you. You know, deep down, that Seungwoo’s feelings are disingenuous, only skin deep when yours burn throughout your whole body.  

Something in you was bound to snap, and that moment comes four days later. You run into Victon boys in the company building, them on their way to practice and you on your way out from an individual meeting with one of your managers regarding the composition of a song on your upcoming album. Chan greets you just as enthusiastically as ever, and you offer a warm smile to Hanse and Subin as they tow behind Sejun, Seungsik, and Byungchan. Seungwoo, as usual, is the last to filter through the doorway, and he regards you with a kindness that should have you falling for him all over again. He seems to be receptive to your greeting, drawing you into his arms in an affectionate hug that has Chan’s jaw clenching and annoyance brewing.  

Chan, the poor soul, has not stopped thinking of you. He loved you when you first joined the company as a trainee, a fresh new face that was so full of life compared to the hardened gazes of more experienced idols. He loved you when you told him you couldn’t return his feelings after he had finally, finally worked up enough courage to confess. He most certainly loved you when you had decided to tell your respective groups about seeing Seungwoo. He loved you then, and he loves you now. Of course, the boy had distanced himself after you had started dating Victon’s leader; partly because he didn’t want to cause any tension between friends, but mainly because he couldn’t bear the thought of his dear friend sweeping the girl he’s head over heels for right from under his nose.

Presently, Seungwoo noses at your hair, breathing in your scent and reveling in it like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get to take in all of you. Your heart threatens to burst from your chest then and there, beating painfully against your ribs because while his ministrations send you up to cloud nine, you know, in the back of your mind, that it’s not real. Perhaps it’s never been real. You can only hope, as you break away to crane your head up at him and purse your lips, that something in Seungwoo has changed, made him realise just how wrongly he’s treated you. You hope that he’ll try to make it better. 

Hope is toxic, bitter and poisonous on your tongue. Hope shatters within you when the sudden shift in Seungwoo’s gaze causes his warmth to vanish in an instant. He shoves you away, muttering something about how he needs to get to practice, that you shouldn’t be here. Chan watches the interaction from the corner of his eyes with bated breath, itching to grab his leader by the shirt collar and beat some sense into him. How dare he. How dare Seungwoo disregard you like the dirt on the bottom of his shoes after breathing life into you only moments before. How dare Seungwoo have you wrapped around his finger so selfishly. How dare he.  

Tears sting at your eyes, anger mixing with the insecurities that only surface in times like these, where Seungwoo builds you up and tears you down like it’s nothing. Your lips part to call after him, but the only sound that escapes is a broken sob before you’re quickly turning away to avoid any questions from the other boys. What you don’t know is that Chan watches you, heart panging with each second that passes, all but shattering into a million pieces when you swiftly turn on your heel and dart out of the room without even bothering to excuse yourself. Chan chases after you without a second thought, and that’s where he differs from Seungwoo. Chan is a man who would do anything and everything for you. He gives and gives and gives without expecting anything in return. If you were to ask him to jump, he’d only ask how high. Chan is a man who would tear down every star in the sky and more because to him, not even the constellations that shine high overhead on the nights spent thinking about you can rival the radiance of your smile. He would jump through hoops to ensure your happiness.  

Seungwoo is a man who expects compensation. He’s a man who’s almost never willing to meet anyone halfway. In his times of need, it’s expected that you act on his every whim. It’s expected that you drop everything at the drop of a pin to please him, because to him, there are no compromises. There is no mutual benefit. To Seungwoo, it’s all or nothing. To Chan, it’s anything and everything. 

Your hand comes up to hide the quivering of your lower lip, and you keep your head hung low to avoid the stares of anyone that could be passing by. A voice, urgent and dripping with worry, calls your name. The calling out to you only spurs you on, urges you to walk faster and exit the building so you can breathe because the air inside stings at your throat, fills your lungs with acid. A hand, far gentler than any you’ve ever known, wraps around your arm.  

You turn, and your bleary eyes barely get to make out Chan’s silhouette before he’s bringing you close, locking his arms around you protectively. Caged into him, you can feel his heartbeat, calmer now that he has you in his arms, and it’s all you can do to sob into his chest. Chan draws you into the corner, away from prying eyes, where he only rocks you idly from side to side. The barely there movement coupled with the gentle caresses of his palm against your back only cause you to cry harder because Chan’s presence is a stark contrast to Seungwoo’s and it hurts  because you find solace in his soft murmurings of, “it’s okay, I’m here.” even though you know you shouldn’t.  

Minutes, perhaps maybe even hours, drawl by, with Chan holding you like you’re made of glass, a fine piece of china that requires the utmost care and delicacy. When you’ve cried away all your tears, the man finally moves away just enough to look you in the eyes. His heart shatters, and for a moment he feels like he himself might start crying, but he swallows his emotions for your sake and instead opts to gingerly wipe the tear stains from your heated cheeks. The plushness of his sweater feels like clouds against your skin, soothing the irritation left by your overflow of emotions. The smile he offers does wonders in causing your heart to skip when he finally speaks, “I saw what happened.” A broken sound leaves you, and you all but collapse into his hold.  “It’s not fair, Chan.” Is all you say, and tears threaten to spill from your puffy eyes once more so you bury your head into the warmth of his chest to stifle yourself. “I hate it. All I do is give and all he does is take without a second thought. I hate it!” Words get caught in his throat, and he takes a fair while to speak.  “I’m so sorry. He doesn’t deserve you.” Is his tender reply, accompanied by him carding his fingers reassuringly through your hair. Then, in a moment of brazen selfishness, “I wouldn’t ever treat you like this.”  “Don’t.” You spit, though there’s little bite to your words. You break away from him, making an attempt to release yourself from his grasp only to give up shortly after his grip tightens around you.  “Y/N, you know how he feels about you. You know how I feel about you. Why are you doing this to yourself?” Pleads Chan, and you can see the pain brimming his wonderfully deep eyes, and you feel your resolve breaking.  “I love him, Chan!” You counter, and he’s quick to shut it down.  “No you don’t. I know you don’t. God, Y/N, do you have any idea how hard it is for me? To watch you give everything you are to someone who doesn’t love you? I absolutely hate seeing you like this. I can’t stand seeing you cry over someone like him. When are you going to open your eyes and see that he’s not right for you?”   You can only let go of a weak noise, and a fresh stream of tears falls from your eyes and Chan is quick to wipe them away.  “Chan, please…”  “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t keep quiet about this anymore.”  Chan’s lithe fingers bring your down-turned head to meet his gaze, and there’s a ferocity in the earnest expression he gives you, and it makes your knees go weak and you lean further into him for support.  “I can give you everything, Y/N. You just have to let me.” Words fall from his lips like petals from a wilting flower, painfully lacerating into your skin and tugging harshly at your heartstrings as he dips his head down, millimeters away from your lips as he breathes one final plea, “Please.”  Your eyes flick up to his own hooded stare, and they flit back down to his lips in apprehension. He inches closer, driven by the way you stay rooted to the ground instead of pushing him away. He kisses you. Sparks fly. Your whole world comes crumbling down, crashing into your heart like waves against the shore. 

[thrivingprimally-blog]

For lasting results, find your WHY!

If you’re like many people I know, you may have come into the new year with gusto, saying “2019 is my year to get healthy!” … or “lose weight!” … or “get fit!” But, if you’re like 80% of people, by February, your initial excitement will have waned and the resolution long forgotten.

Life got busy.

Temptations arose.

Friends and family were assholes and did not share in your enthusiasm about your new healthy lifestyle. In fact, they were downright resistant and unsupportive. The husband brought home doughnuts and cookies. Colleagues brought cookies and pizza to the office. Friends invited you out for drinks and pub fare. Jerks.

Cravings for your favorite comfort food got the best of you. And dammit, you EARNED it because you went to the gym four days this week and had salads with dinner every single night last week! Can I give you a little hint? You don’t EARN junk food. You simply make a choice to put it into your mouth, and the choice is always yours. Sorry to be a killjoy.

Old habits, like parasites, worked their way back in.

You blame it on willpower. “I just don’t have enough.”

Ninety-five percent. The research shows that 95% of people who establish a health or weight loss goal fall flat of reaching that goal at all, or fail in the long-run by gaining all that weight (or more) back. Not good odds, and how can you be part of the measly 5% who see long-term success?

The answer lies in the word “why”.

If stopping and starting and stopping and starting has been a recurring pattern for you in your journey towards better health, then I suggest you DIG DEEP and establish your big WHY. And let me tell you something right now, my friend--a shallow or superficial reason such as fitting into size 4 jeans, or losing 15 pounds for your wedding, or getting a swimsuit body for an upcoming vacation, or running a marathon in October is not a big enough WHY.

Why not? Because your WHY needs to be much, much bigger. Because when you get to that size 4 or lose those 15 pounds, the vacation or the athletic achievement is over, then what? Did you achieve that ultimate state of happiness that you thought you’d have when you reached that superficial goal? The research indicates that this is not the case.

I tell my clients and participants in my group programs that in order to achieve long-term success, you need to have a deep emotional connection to your why. When you think about your why, you should have a visceral reaction in your gut, get goosebumps, a catch in your throat, and big fat tears welling up in your eyes. Your why should be big enough that it takes you well beyond superficial short-term goals and keeps you fired up to prioritize your health for the long-term (i.e. for LIFE!). To make “being healthy” just part of who you are. When other people think of you, they think of you as healthy (among your other awesome qualities that will shine through even more when you’re healthy from the inside out).

To find your big WHY, I suggest you sit your butt down with a pencil and paper and make a list of ten reasons you’re unsatisfied with your health the way it is in this very moment. In other words, what it is it about your current state of health that creates limitation in your life? What can’t you do that you want to be able to do? What do you see yourself not being able to do five, ten, or twenty years from now because of your current state of health?

Then, turn that list around and make a list of how your quality of life would be improved if your life wasn’t limited by those things. What could you do or have that you can’t do or have right now because of your health?

What is it that you really want? Why?

Who do you want to be? Why?

How do you want to feel? Why?

How do you want to show up for your family, friends, colleagues, the world? Why?

In other words, figure out what the most important, highly valued things are to you in life (you’re going to find some themes) and use those things as a focal point for your reason to get and remain healthy. Really, if you’re serious about getting healthy, you’ll take the time to sit down and do this exercise. Or stand at the counter and write it. I don’t give a shit whether you sit or stand to write your list, just do it!

Keep going with your list. THINK FUTURE. Thirty days from now...ninety days...six months...five years...twenty years, and so on. High performance coach Brendon Burchard says that successful, high performance people think about the future...constantly. So thinking in the moment about satisfying your current whims ain't gonna get you to better health. I’m sorry.

I’ve seen it time and again...folks get themselves all fired up about getting healthy, signing themselves up for a health challenge (even those that I’ve run), and going into it ALL IN. Well, sortof all in. I mean, for the 30 days or so of the challenge, that is. Maybe even for the following week or month. They see all sorts of improvements in the way they feel, their energy, their sleep, their skin.

But then, something happens. Life gets busy. Social gatherings happen. Their family doesn’t share their enthusiasm about their new healthy ways. Old habits slowly sneak their way back in. Before they know it, they’re staying up well past their bedtime and their cart at the grocery store is filled with Doritos and Oreos (“Hey, it’s kid food. Gotta stock my house with snacks for the kiddos.” I’m just going to resist the urge to diverge down THAT rabbit hole right now.) instead of meat and vegetables. Their cars steer themselves right into the drive-thrus at Dunkin Donuts and McDonalds. But they’re still hitting the gym 3-5 days per week, so hey, it’s all good, right? Wrong.

WHY does this keep happening? Because those folks have not identified a big enough why. They’re too focused on short-term superficial goals like the number on the scale, or the measuring tape, or PRs they’ve hit at the gym this week. F*ck the scale. F*ck the measuring tape. F*ck the PRs. These things tell you nothing about real health and what’s going on inside your body.

My personal WHY came to me after a 20-month health crisis that ravaged my body and spirit had me questioning what was really important to me in this world; wondering if I would be around to witness all the major milestones in my two boys’ lives...first girlfriends, athletic achievements, graduations, careers, weddings, grandkids. This was after over two decades of suffering from chronic health issues that I just couldn’t seem to resolve no matter how many doctor visits I made or how many medications I took. And I was no slouch either. I had several marathons under my belt, including multiple Boston marathons, which I’d qualified for. The scale told me that I was a “healthy” weight. My size 2 pants fit just right (well, maybe a little loose). I was a high achiever in my career. My blood work always came back normal. I looked pretty good on the outside, aside from the humiliating acne, which I got really good at covering with makeup.

But my body told me something was wrong. Really wrong. And it seemed nobody could help me, so I decided to help myself because I decided I wanted to be there for all the major milestones in my kids’ lives. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, and I also wasn’t willing to live a sub-par life struggling with chronic symptoms that sucked the joy out of every minute.

Through digging deep and educating myself I learned that many of the foods I was eating were making me sick. I learned that I was over-exercising, adding stress to my already struggling body. I learned that my sleep habits were really harming my health, and gave up the sleep deprivation badge of honor. I learned that the thoughts I was allowing to take up space in my brain were causing additional stress that was also keeping me sick. I made becoming healthy a priority, and made it a priority to change my habits...permanently...in order to achieve that goal. It didn’t happen overnight in the same way that my poor health hadn’t happened overnight...it was the result of many years of not honoring my body.

After recovering from my 20-month health crisis, I realized that I had been suffering from chronic symptoms for SO LONG (decades) that I hadn’t even realized what it felt like to be healthy! That state of waking up each morning fully rested and ready to tackle whatever the day has to offer, free of symptoms, and feeling as alert and energetic in the afternoon as I did first thing in the morning. It was, and continues to be, A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! I find that this is the case with all of my clients as well, because when you’ve been suffering from chronic symptoms for years you come to forget what it feels like to feel good...you just begin to see the symptoms as part of “getting older”, which is the dogma we’ve been told to believe.

Here’s a partial list of what keeps me motivated to stay the course, even when temptations arise…my big WHYs:

1. I know what it feels like to be healthy. I also know what it feels like to feel like SH!T every single day. I don’t ever want to go back to that dark place.

2. I want to experience and enjoy all my young-adult boys’ major milestones.

3. If and when I have grandchildren, I want to have the energy and physical mobility to play with them and take them on fun adventures, to get up and down from the floor without assistance.

4. If I live to be over 100, barring no tragic accidents between now and then, I want to fully enjoy each and every day of it without pain or disability. Quality of life matters. Who cares if you live to be 110, if you are riddled with miserable symptoms all the time? That would suck.

5. No matter what age I live to, I want to be able to travel and not be limited in the types of activities I can participate in, whether that be a difficult hike or a high-speed jet boat adventure.

6. No matter what age I live to, I want to be able to take care of my own business in the bathroom. I would think pride matters at any age.

7. I want to have full brain function until the day I die so that I can have intelligent conversations with my great grandkids.

Notice how my list does not include anything about a number on the scale or pants size or hitting PRs in the gym? Does that mean I don’t have any short-term goals? No, it just means that I’m focused on the bigger picture. Your big WHY needs to be big enough that it keeps you inspired to make being healthy a LIFESTYLE, and that voice in your ear that reminds you why you should leave that package of Oreos on the shelf at the store instead of adding them to your cart.

The common denominator is happiness. We all want happiness, right? Feeling like crap tends to suck the joy right out of your life.

“But I’m busy! I work full-time and I have kids.” Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before. We’re all busy. Folks, lots of people have done amazing things in this world while being busy (and short on funds). When I dragged myself up from the depths of despair, I was busy. I worked full-time, I had two kids with sports schedules to keep up with, homework to help with in the evenings, meals to cook, a house to maintain. Oh, and I was taking classes for a Master’s Degree program. I had a budget, and I paid a lot of money on my quest to reclaim my life. I get it. But I made my health and happiness a PRIORITY and I found my WHY!

If you want to become deeply healthy, you must make health a high level PRIORITY, which means you find a way to fit it into your time and budget no matter what. Health is a lifelong journey, not a 30 day sprint. Temptations will arise. Friends and family will be unsupportive. You’ll get home late and have nothing prepared for dinner. To overcome these obstacles, you must have a plan and a deep and emotional value-driven WHY.

What is it that you need to get there? A mentor/coach? An accountability partner? Do you have the tools and knowledge necessary to get there, or do you need some help? If you have some chronic long-term health issues or autoimmunity, I can help you get to the bottom of your health issues and get you feeling like (or better than) yourself again. In my practice, I use functional lab testing to investigate HIDDEN internal causes of stress on the body in addition to providing education, resources, accountability, and mentoring.

If you need help figuring out what foods are right for your body, the lifestyle tools and habits you need to employ, and HIDDEN causes of your niggling symptoms so that you have the energy and vitality to enjoy life again, schedule a complimentary Empowered Health Discovery Session here. You CAN be the BOSS of your health for life, and I can help you get there!

I also provide group coaching opportunities for businesses and gyms, which can be done virtually or in-person, so contact me if you want more information about that.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is good health. Find your WHY and make it a PRIORITY to do what it takes to get there! Honor your future self by taking care of your body today.

[motheronthemountain-blog]

Postpartum Anxiety  

  I’ll spare you the two page pinterest recipe story; I have it. Remember in a previous entry where I talked about how finding the time to educate myself, prepare my body, and research further about this whole mountain climbing goal would be a struggle against time? That definitely has proved to be the case. My time does not belong to me, it rides on the whim of my (almost) one year old, and my five year old’s demands, which can be unpredictable. I’ve actually been planning this post since Mother’s Day, so that goes to show you where I am at with my time management. 

  I actually debated writing about this, and I didn’t know to what depth I would go on the topic of postpartum, but it seemed untruthful not to include this struggle in my journey. It is a part of me, ingrained in every decision I make, occupying the most inconvenient parts of my mind. It has become the little parasite in the control center of my brain, panicking at every picture that comes across the screen, and haphazardly pressing buttons. And yet, I am still me. I still have goals, I still have dreams, and hopes for my future. 

   Having Postpartum Anxiety AND Depression at the same time does little in the way of achieving these goals. At best it has left me feeling like a pile of flesh heaped on the floor, afraid to move, apathetic to the world moving around me. Except I have a baby to feed, a child to raise, and very rarely does the world stop moving, simply because I cannot gather the strength to care about it. A small part of that aforementioned control center knows that the baby must be fed, cuddled, loved, and made to feel safe, and even when that part is beating itself silly against my skull, it can be hard to muster the strength to put spoon to mouth. For me, coming out of that depression bumps my anxiety into top gear.

  When I have come out of that heap like state, it’s almost like my anxiety doubles down, as my consciousness and empathy return, my awareness of neglect promptly grows. “I haven't been looking enough into my baby’s eyes, he’ll probably grow up to be the kind of person that tortures animals now!” “I haven’t told the older one to brush his teeth in three days! His teeth are going to rot out of his head!” That little parasite pushing buttons has all of sudden sprouted six arms and hands, and is now putting out fires in every corner. Images begin running across the screen of disapproving looks from other moms, teachers, and strangers in Target. My five year old looks on in bewilderment as I start doing seven different tasks, running from one end of the house to the other, barking orders at him to clean up his toys, while trying to gleefully sing “Let’s Go Fly A Kite” to the crying infant on the floor; like some kind of disillusioned Julie Andrews on speed. Then finally when the fires are put out, (and there’s no telling how long that will take) I am restored. 

  With the parasite’s feet kicked up the desk, I am able to return those soft loving glances to my baby, I proudly maintain my five year old’s hygiene routine (and mine). This blissful period is where I am free to do things for myself, like exercise, eat right, read books, and make crazy goals like climbing/scaling a mountain. Only after of course, my boys have been taken care of, and their needs are met. When I talk about climbing a mountain, there are so many obstacles to overcome, and postpartum so far has been the biggest and the most surprising. Even knowing going into something that your mental illness may be a hindrance, it never fully prepares you for the struggles you might find along the way. I still intend to face my challenges and accomplish my dreams. I will climb mountains, and then I will climb more.  

[cinniharpy]

It’s 2AM. Almost. Come along and listen to old lady Amanda go on about some random shit. Maybe you too can offer your thoughts.

Tonight’s topic: introverts and extroverts. More specifically, why I classify myself as an extrovert while most would call me an introvert.

I am PAINFULLY, awkwardly shy irl. At least, if you haven’t reached friendship level 175 with me. And if you have reached that level, let me just say, I am sorry. You get the full Amanda in all her farty glory.

But if you aren’t at that level, you’re gonna see zero personality Amanda. Which is like… I dunno, all that’s coming to mind right now is Normal SpongeBob from that one episode. So. Like that. Only quieter and avoids eye contact and does the least amount of interaction possible. If you’d met her and were told you immediately had to place her within the binary of introvert/extrovert, you’d say introvert with no hesitation.

And YET.

When I was in college, I went to one of the counselors they had on campus on a whim. I was having a lot of social anxiety and decided to see if this would help at all. I don’t remember exactly how the topic came up or even most of what was said anymore, but the counselor brought up the definition of introvert/extrovert in a way I hadn’t heard it described before. She said that introverts are drained by social interaction and must recoup by being solitary, while extroverts are drained by being solitary and get energy from social interaction.

I weighed this against what I knew of myself. I thought of how I’d organize events on Facebook for trips to the movies and such. How I thrived off living in a dorm where there was always, always people around. How I desperately wanted to connect with more people, I just couldn’t get over my fears enough to do it.

I told her that with that definition in mind, I was clearly an extrovert. I must have frowned or something, because she asked me why I looked disappointed with that. It wasn’t so much that I was disappointed, but I suddenly had to redefine the way I thought of myself. But the most surprising thing about it was that this felt like it made more sense.

And whaddya know, my roommates were in a psychology class not long after, bringing home stuff from class, and I took that Myers-Briggs thing for the first time. And every time I’ve taken it I get an E. Usually ENFP.

So it was like, cool. Information I guess. As long as you believe the whole introvert/extrovert and Myers-Briggs things are valid. Which I know is debatable for some.

But I still don’t know if I know what to do with that information or if it even matters. Because, even with learning that and coming to think of myself as an extrovert I didn’t change in the ways I wanted. If anything, as time went on and I left college, I became more withdrawn.

Which was frustrating. I still think of myself as an extrovert. I could never live alone, as I’d definitely become too depressed. I like having people around, even if I’m not interacting with them. Just having other people in the same house makes me feel more secure, I work better, and overall I’m happier. I get very hype from hanging out with people and interacting with people outside the norm. Like, my roommates and I will go hang out with some other friends for a while and I’ll be so jazzed that I’ll have trouble sleeping.

But I never accomplished my goal. Which was to basically merge the two versions of me that there seemed to be: The quiet, shy, zero personality Amanda, and the other Amanda who was more of a stereotypical extrovert around those who’d achieved the required friendship level.

Because I like level 175 Amanda better; most people seem to. She feels more like “the real me.” I mean, to be honest, you guys here get a better glimpse of her than a lot of people I talk to irl. It’s easier online. But that social anxiety… And, well, just anxiety in general. It’s impossible sometimes.

Sometimes it feels like level 175 Amanda is underneath the surface of zero personality Amanda and she’s banging on the walls begging to come out. But zero personality is a tough shell to crack. And the doubts that hold that shell together are a glue I’ve yet to be able to dissolve. I hate zero personality and yet she’s my shield against the world.

And honestly? One of the worst things about that struggle is when I do meet people who know me from my online presence at conventions. Because internally I’m so excited and happy that they’d come find me and I want to talk to them and be friendly… but I worry I come off as cold. Because inside me I’m wrestling with what I always deal with in talking to people: I want so desperately to make a connection, but I don’t know how.

And that’s why my shyness is painful. Anxiety has settled in my chest like a parasite and it feels like its claws are too deep in to remove. So I’m left with this feeling of “I like the people, I just don’t know how to be a people.” And emotionally, it hurts. It’s a gap I can’t bridge and a distance that’s always kept. It can feel like a literal barrier between me and other people.

So it’s easy to understand why other people would classify me as an introvert. But I still think of myself as an extrovert. Maybe I’m not a stereotypical one externally. But what you’re not seeing is level 175 hidden away yelling BUILT THIS CITY at the top of her lungs.

Or, you know, maybe it’s all just bullshit anyway and none of us are really either an extrovert or introvert, but hey! If classifying ourselves makes it all easier to understand then maybe the bullshit is ok.

It’s now nearly 3AM. Meaning the time for over analyzing ourselves is over and we must mindlessly scroll through Tumblr till falling asleep.

Y'all today’s question of the middle night is: do you feel like you fit perfectly into either extrovert or introvert?

[criticofsociety]

Marine Perspective

This is a story designed and intended to challenge our assumptions and try to help us see things from different perspectives, something it seems we have a very hard time doing in general, not just with regards to wildlife but also - and more critically, I believe - with regards to how we humans interact with one another.

The following was recorded yesterday in the 1-2 kHz band by a top secret whale observatory off the coast of Baja California. It is thought to have emanated from somewhere between Isla Cedros and Bahía Tortugas. Doppler shift analysis of the transmission seems to indicate that the whale who emitted it had begun its migration back towards its feeding grounds in Alaska. After being cleaned up multiple times to remove parasitic noise from boat engines and other such things, translation became possible. The message the whale was sending was something like this:

Dear Mother,

I know you haven't heard from me much in the past years. And yes, it makes sense that you didn't expect to anyway. But something happened recently that I couldn't help but share with you, because it seems to contradict some things you've always told me about humans.

Do you remember how you always used to tell me never to go near them, and I would always stray in their paths anyway? You used to tell me stories about how their misshapen flippers and tails had stingers they could project to hurt us and sometimes even kill us. You used to say they couldn't be trusted, you used to warn me that they hunted us.

Well I've been curious, and observing them. And it seems there have been some changes. Let me lay out the extent of my discoveries so far.

These creatures appear to live on the surface of the water and, much like hermit crabs, mostly depend on shells to keep safe. Unlike hermit crabs, however, they seem to be able and willing to share shells. In their shells they usually return to shore every night and stay there. I say "usually" because some of the bigger shells seem to be able to sustain their humans for much longer trips across the surface.

Their bodies are strange as well, and don't look at all well suited to living in or on water. They have misshapen flippers, cylindrical with bunches of tendrils at the ends, and strange split tails, with each half also cylindrical and ending in a kind of thick fluke. Ill suited as their bodies seem to be for swimming, they're still able to swim somewhat, albeit slowly and jerkily.

There's a point between their heads and their bodies where the whole thing narrows considerably, which seems completely absurd and excessively fragile, especially when dealing with current shear. Maybe this narrowing of the body is why they need to live in their shells.

They breathe air like us, and in fact don't seem to be able to hold their breath nearly half as long as we can.

I've never heard any intelligible communication between them. It seems that they either emit audible, monotonous drones through their shells that interfere with our own communication or engage in some weird chatter at ultrasonic frequencies that you can only barely hear part of if you really stretch your hearing to its limits. I used to hear more of it, but somehow as I've grown my hearing must have started to fail.

Another thing that strikes me about them is that they never seem to eat or drink at all. They seem to have three blowholes, two small ones in a kind of protuberance on their faces and a much bigger one with what looks like thick, flat baleens in it - although I'm frankly flummoxed as to why they need baleens in a blowhole. But they have nothing that seems like it could be a mouth, and I've never seen them eating anything. Maybe they don't need to eat in the first place.

And no, Mom, I haven't ever seen a trace of those spikes you told me about. I heard from someone that there still are humans with spikes in some places, but I've never seen them. Maybe they're a different species of human that is going extinct. My theory is that maybe the warming of the oceans in the past decades has something to do with it.

Indeed, lately the only humans I've been seeing seem to be of a very different temperament. And this brings me to the event I wanted to tell you about. Just the other day, I was in the lagoon with my son - you know, the one who was born without a right eye - when some humans came by in their shells. As usual in that area, they didn't leave the shell but patted the water with their flippers. My son and I went up to the surface to see them - I've been teaching him to be curious as well - and even be rubbed by their flippers - it actually feels quite nice and soothing!

I've never figured out why they do this. I'm pretty sure it's a deliberate choice on their part, because they only do this petting when their shells come to where we stay for a while. It doesn't seem as though it helps them or gives them any kind of evolutionary advantage, after all. Why would they do it?

Anyway, as I was saying, the other day I went to see some of those as they were in their shells on the surface, and got the usual petting. In fact, I even managed to position myself just right in such a way that one of the flippers could get at an itch I've been trying to shake for days. What a relief it was!

I then brought my son to the scene. Yes, Mom, I've always been the curious type, and I've made a deliberate choice to raise my son to be curious as well. He was a bit scared of them at first, but then I pushed him up to meet the humans. He took it stoically at first, but quickly started to enjoy the petting and rubbing, and pretty soon didn't want to come back down. I let him enjoy this for a bit, and took that chance to dip down and have a quick snack.

When I came back, I was shocked to see that one of the humans was not only using its flipper to pet my son, but had actually brought its big blowhole, the one filled with the flat baleens, right down to his skin! Keeping the blowhole closed, it touched my son briefly, then pulled back up. Pretty soon, another human did the same. This was the first time I'd ever seen such a thing, and it really perplexed me. What could they possibly be doing? I don't imagine it's very healthy or safe to do this. After all, we ourselves always keep our own blowholes clear and clean.

When I asked him about it later on, my son said that he hadn't particularly noticed it was something other than the flippers, but he did note that a couple of the flippers were smoother, softer, than usual, and wondered if maybe those could have been the blowholes petting him instead. Anyway, he very much enjoyed it, and came away asking a ton of questions, questions I was hardly able to answer at all.

But the biggest, hardest question he asked, and repeatedly, was "Why?" Why indeed? Why do humans do this? Is it for some kind of health reason? It doesn't seem to be out of necessity, because they've hardly been doing it at all until recently. Or is it because of curiosity, the same thing that drove me to observing them in the first place? Or maybe it's just for fun, like when we whales jump into the air on a whim for the thrill and to feel the cool rush of wind on our skins?

I wonder if we'll ever know...

Sincerely,

Your daughter.

[terranoctis]

Stories of 2019

I would like to say this piece is about the best pieces of media and literature that came out in 2019, but it isn’t. I know there’s a myriad of stories I consumed this year that originally came out in years prior. This post, really, is about the most memorable stories I consumed and experienced for different reasons. I’m mostly writing it as a retrospect of a year where I made it my goal to experience more stories to become a better writer.

Literature

- His Dark Materials, Books 1 & 2 (The Golden Compass & The Subtle Knife), by Phillip Pullman

I have long been curious about these books by Phillip Pullman. It was popular in my childhood, though not as much as other books my childhood companions read. Someone told me the premise of the series in a comical manner about how it wrote religion into the world, and that dialogue sold me long ago on reading the series. I didn’t get the chance, however, to read it until rather recently, at the tail-end of 2019. I rather value the fact that I read it as I was older. I would’ve loved it as a child, I’m certain of it, but there’s definitely a darker tone to it that I appreciate more as an adult. It makes me nostalgic for the story I’m writing in all the good ways. I admire Pullman’s writing as well. It should be noted the TV series adaptation of the books is rather solid, and one I’m enjoying currently. 

- The Poppy War, by R.F. Kuang

Surprise, surprise, another fantasy novel makes my list. I think however, that it is a rather amazing one in where it went with its main character. It is a long novel, but one that thoroughly develops the world it’s in and the path a protagonist can take to become both the hero and the enemy, for better or worse. By the end of the novel, I’m not certain that I can find that her actions are acceptable, though I understand her mindset into it all. And that’s what makes the story fascinating to me. I like to write about people, even the most troubled ones. War can be a horrifying monster to everyone it touches, combined with the obsessions of our own ambitions.

- The Priory of the Orange Tree, by Samantha Shannon

Well-written, and honestly a joy to read at times, my first novel from Samantha Shannon pleasantly surprised me when I learned that it tastefully wrote about a same-sex relationship between two women. That isn’t the main focus of the novel, however. Across the board, the protagonists of the stories consist of two strong women and two men who have much to do to keep order in their own lives and the world around them. It’s about differences in beliefs coming together in order to be a better good. There are so many threads and yet they tie together rather beautifully by the end. It’s a wonderfully crafted tale of high fantasy that I’d honestly love to see more of someday. 

Comics & Manga

- Monstress, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

At the tail-end of 2018, I was starting to pick up some western comics, as I previously had only largely consumed Eastern-style manga and manhwas. One of the ones that grabbed me and kept me was Monstress, first for its beautiful, gorgeous artwork, and second for the fact of how it writes its main character. It’s dark, yet hauntingly beautiful, the world the comic takes place in. The story has some pacing issues, but even so, it was by far my favorite western comic I read this year.

- Paper Girls, by Brian K. Vaughan and Cliff Chiang

Saga was the series that kind of introduced me to the kind of brand of Western comics that I thought I would like, that stretched beyond superheroes. It was my favorite comic of 2018, and still arguably one of my favorites now. It made sense then, that I would read other comics by one of its creators. Paper Girls is a fun read, and also deals with time travel and the fates that we follow and create for ourselves. And I am a sucker for anything time travel.

- Yagate Kimi Ni Naru by Nakatani Nio

I’ll be honest. I read chapters of this prior to 2019, but as the series ended recently and I re-read the entire series from the beginning, this manga sincerely stole my heart again. As someone who has never been in touch with her feelings as much, to see someone understand how they felt about another and figure it out, especially in the context of friendship and between two girls, was a quiet experience that I loved and enjoyed. 

TV Shows

- Euphoria, from HBO

It honestly was the first show that came to mind for me about this year. It’s not my typical genre as an adult now, as it is a show about teenagers and their experiences. However, I think this is a show that definitely is for adults as well, more so than teenagers perhaps. Because, after all, we remember what it’s like to be that age. It’s about the mess people at that age in high school can be, as products of their environment and the upbringing they had. I watched it on a whim between episodes of the last season of Game of Thrones and enjoyed it far more. It’s a show about addiction, about desire, about abuse, about everything good and bad. It wrote so well the experiences of people from across the spectrum.

- The End of the F***ing World, from Netflix

I surprisingly liked this second season more than the last one. I think I liked it more because it goes more into depth about the mentality of each person. More than just diving into it, it went into how they are trying to mend it and address it. It’s still as charmingly amazing as it was the first season, with its sort of absurd dry humor.

- She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, from Netflix (and Dreamworks Animation)

I never really expected how much I actually would enjoy this show when I first watched it on a whim in 2018. Even though I already knew back then how much I admired the characterization of Adora and Catra, it was just a small admiration. This admiration only grew and grew as the series progressed and started extending to the show’s writing in general. The series is written to be enjoyed by all ages, but there’s an underlying tonality to it that definitely calls to me as an adult, particularly in the case of Catra’s story. It’s not perfect, by any means, but it’s exactly that quirky nature and well-written dialogue that makes me think this will be a series that will be on my mind for a long time. 

- The Good Place, from NBC

This show is permanently on my list until it stops airing. It’s still just as good.

Movies

- The Theory of Everything (2014)

I went through a lot this year in my personal life, one of the situations being someone returning to my life that I never expected to speak to again. It brought me much perspective to see a film about persevering, understanding how time can be strange in its own ways, and how we make so much in this world for ourselves by just being with one another. I admire Stephen Hawking, for one, but the film brought a fictionalized story to life between him and Jane Hawking that I thought was honestly beautiful. And the heart of what made this film great was that relationship and bond through time. It was hopeful. The film made me remember why it was okay, that even after all these years, I still had something to be hopeful and grateful in all those years past. ...It’s also just a really beautifully shot film. That ending sequence had me near tears. 

- Parasite (2019)

I think if I had to choose one film to be my favorite of the entire year, it would be this film. There’s so much packed into it, but it’s beautifully, wonderfully done. It was personal on a bizarre level about social class and how the way we’re raised and the amount of money we have growing up affects who we become. It’s about inequality, about family, and so much. I can’t even find the right words to describe it because I think it’s a film everyone should watch.

- Marriage Story (2019) 

I can’t say that I’ve been through a divorce, but I’ve been through an emotional disconnect with someone that meant much to me. It’s why watching this film made me go through a rollercoaster that I could relate to. Even when relationships, friendships, or something in between end on a sour note, it doesn’t take away all your affections for them. Even if it doesn’t make sense, you still love them, no matter how much you bitterly want to hate them. And sometimes, relationships don’t just end because of some horrible end-all thing. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work out--and you have to live with that. And sometimes, you have to live with one another still, even if maybe you’d be better off being out of each other’s lives. The movie hit me on a personal note on many levels, and I think anyone who’s been in any sort of situation like that will feel the same watching the movie. 

- Knives Out (2019)

I would like to simply present Daniel Craig’s character talking about donut holes to explain why this is one of my favorite films this year. But really, it’s witty, it’s fun, and it feels relevant to the atmosphere we have in American society in modern times. It’s a whodunit mystery with a twist that in the end, and truthfully really isn’t about a murder at all, but rather about the people that make up a little of entitled society and the people who have to live with them. 

- Little Women (2019)

I sincerely loved Louisa May Alcott’s novel growing up, and had a wild amount of excitement for Greta Gerwig’s adaptation. I was not let down. It’s not a traditional take on the story, and yet it is. It changes up the timeline in a brilliant way, and moreover, does so much justice to Amy’s character and the way women have to live in that time period. It brings out more of Jo’s joy in writing and telling stories. It does a brilliant job of portraying Laurie’s relationship with Jo, as well as Amy. It’s a strong adaptation of a largely female tale that is also made relevant for modern times. I can also say that Florence Pugh did a phenomenal job as Amy.

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There are a number of other stories I consumed this year that I loved, such as Frozen II or Naomi Novik’s novels, but I can’t list them all. I hope 2020 continues to be a year of great stories for me. And I hope it is a year for me to better expand on my own stories.