#was so so tempted to make his wings have a lot more serious damage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

427 notes · View notes

gffa · 5 years

Photo

Star Wars - Dooku: Jedi Lost by Cavan Scot There’s a fascinating thing going on with Dooku: Jedi Lost that’s not remarked on directly, but is surprisingly consistently shown--that half-trained Force users are legitimately dangerous to themselves and others more than we might think, that exposure to the dark side of the Force (whether from within themselves or from an external source) can be disastrous if they don’t have the experience to control themselves. --> It starts when Dooku feels a tug through the Force, to find his biological sister Jenza and they tour through the Serenno Assembly Hall together, when he’s drawn to one of the sculptures, the connection he makes with it tears through his mind, the Tirra’Taka growling and he can’t look away from it, doesn’t even seem to hear Jenza when she calls for him not to touch it. But he does and the entire Assembly Hall collapses on them, trapping them underneath the rubble. Whatever was calling to him through the Force, he wasn’t trained enough yet to deal with it and he and Jenza are both badly hurt and need to be rescued. It tore through his head and made him scream in pain, not from the collapsing hall, but having that thing in his mind. --> Later, Dooku and Sifo-Dyas sneak into the Bogan Collection in the Jedi Temple, because they’re curious (and Lene Kostana tempted them into it, by leaving a few pages of a Sith bestiary out for them) and Dooku is drawn to a particular object, he’s fascinated by it. Another roar starts up in his head and he sees the Tirra’Taka again, this time not just in his head, but in front of him. In panic, he flings outward with the Force, shattering every cabinet in the room and knocking Sifo-Dyas into a wall of artifacts hard enough that his arm is broken. --> After that, Dooku is convinced that Lene Kostana is actually a Sith herself and goes to confront her. She dances around the subject, throwing out deliberate mild barbs and he can feel the dark side roiling off her. So he rushes at her, lightsaber drawn and she continues teasing him, testing him, taunting him a little. Then his attacks turns serious, he gets swept up in the furious rush of it, and she says, okay, that’s enough, let’s calm down. But he can’t stop, not until Yoda’s forced to intervene, and when things calm down, Dooku realizes the darkness he felt wasn’t in her, it was in him. He'd been so turned around by that anger and darkness, so frenzied by that darkness, that he couldn’t tell what was real in those moments. --> Awhile later, after Dooku attends his biological mother’s funeral on Serenno, it basically all goes pear-shaped and he’s deeply upset by it and Jenza’s rejection of him at the time. Because of this instability, when he and Lene and Sifo-Dyas continue their mission, he kills an entire group of smugglers in a rage, so deeply affected by the dark side on the planet that even Lene worries that he’s going to turn his blade on her, too. Dooku, relating this in the holo-entry says, "Perhaps I would have, blinded by emotions I could barely control, emotions she had stirred by bringing me to Asusto.” --> Then they’re then trapped in a special moss that that bombards them with mental images of war and fighting and the return of the Sith, all of this done so a weird cult can use them to generate visions of the future. This torture caused Dooku to lash out with Force lightning to kill them, which further slid him down a dark path. Because the Jedi Council would not approve of Lene exposing the Padawans to the dark side, she insists that they keep this all a secret and instead of dealing with it properly, she teaches them an ancient ritual that uses soaked bindings to help infuse them with the light side. --> Once Sifo-Dyas is Knighted, Lene continues to work with him because his visions are so severe that he still needs help, the burden of them so great that it’s caused him to develop a stutter. Still, Lene keeps taking him out to help her look for Sith artifacts that are out there in the galaxy that she wants to hunt down, because she’s convinced the artifacts are the key to telling if the Sith have returned or not. Ultimately, the missions that Lene was taking him on, the visions that she was encouraging behind the backs of the Council (whom she hid them from) and the missions he was in the middle of cause him to have a vision so strong that he writhes on the ground and his sanity fractures, damaging him even further beyond repair, it seems. All of these together, in just the one book, paint an incredibly clear picture of how the dark side affects Force-sensitives, how it takes so much discipline, an entire lifetime of it, to be able to handle it. That if users aren’t properly trained and take incredible care, they can end up hurting themselves and others, sometimes in ways that can’t be fixed. The Force is vast and mysterious and brilliant and wonderful and amazing and connection, but it’s also unfathomable and endless and dangerous if you push too far or get drawn into something you don’t have a lifetime of training to handle. This is why a Jedi needs the most serious of minds to commit to this--because the Force can and will wreck you if you’re not incredibly careful. It thoroughly wrecks Sifo-Dyas in this book. It sinks its claws into Dooku, who cannot move beyond it and we all know his fate. This is why the Jedi are so damned careful about the dark side--not that you can’t show darker emotions, because they did that all the time, but that you cannot just let them run wild in you--because we are given an entire series of events in this book that show us exactly how much damage the dark side can do and it’s really bad. It doesn’t mean that every single one who uses the dark side, who acts out of anger, will automatically be driven down that path, the Jedi would never have kept Anakin Skywalker around if that that were the case, because he acted out of anger a lot. And he was told to learn to control himself better, because it’s about disciplining yourself to turn away from the dark, as George Lucas says about how the Force works. The Jedi know that it’s part of everyone (they teach it to their children in the creche, as Qui-Gon says). The Jedi knew that of course it was possible to come back from the dark side, that’s why they help Quinlan and Prosset. But it does mean that the Jedi are absolutely right that the dark side is dangerous and, once it starts getting its hooks in you, it’s something you have to watch out for always. That it’s a lifelong challenge not to go down that road, to discipline yourself away from it. Not just because that’s a good lesson for all of us, according to the narrative themes of Star Wars, but because Dooku: Jedi Lost shows us multiple instances of how the danger level of that lack of control SKYROCKETS in Force-users. It causes visions to appear before them. It makes them doubt their psychic senses. They can’t tell if it’s the other person’s anger or their own. Those feelings linger with them and swoop around their heads until they’re lashing out because of the psychic empathic overload, sometimes killing people in that rage that’s shrieking in their heads. Dooku is frequently in screaming pain from the dark side invading him, because that’s what the dark side does. TL;DR: THE DARK SIDE IS REALLY DANGEROUS AND WILL WRECK YOU IF YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. HALF-TRAINED FORCE USERS WHO DO NOT HAVE THE LEVEL OF MASTERY OVER THEMSELVES ARE SUPER SUSCEPTIBLE TO THIS AND CAN GET REALLY, REALLY HURT. AND DO GET REALLY HURT. (Quotes from Dooku: Jedi Lost for context under the Keep Reading!)

Dooku and Jenza in the Serenno Assembly Hall:

JENZA: (EMBARRASSED) We should probably get back. We’re not even supposed to be in here. (BEAT) Dooku? DOOKU: (NARRATION) A carving had caught my attention—an immense beast, larger than any malosaur, crawling up toward the domed ceiling. The creature’s crested head was thrown back, jaw stretched wide, roaring at the stars that were painted across the apex. Spines ridged its powerful back, wings spread wide as if ready to take flight. And then there were its eyes…eyes, though fashioned in stone, that burned with an intensity that was all too familiar… DOOKU: What is that? JENZA: The Tirra’Taka? Just another legend. “The dragon that holds the world together…” DOOKU: It’s beautiful. DOOKU: (NARRATION) I couldn’t look away, walking toward the sculpture as if in a trance. It looked so alive, so vibrant, as if any minute it could spring from the wall to crash through the columns that held the domed roof in place. I could feel the creature’s heart beating in my own chest, its roar echoing at the back of my mind… We also hear the roar of the Tirra’Taka. It’s distorted, low, rising in volume beneath the following exchange. JENZA: Dooku, what are you doing? Don’t—don’t touch it, okay? It’s supposed to be bad luck. DOOKU: So beautiful. The ground shakes, dust falling from above. DOOKU: (NARRATION) I barely even noticed the ground shifting beneath our feet, flakes of paint falling from the ceiling high above… JENZA: What was that? DOOKU: (WHISPER) Tirra’Taka… JENZA: Dooku—don’t! DOOKU: (NARRATION) My fingers brushed the stone…and the world was torn apart… A groundquake hits, shaking the foundations of the assembly hall. JENZA: What did you do? DOOKU: (NARRATION) I snapped from my reverie, cracks snaking across the polished marble before us. DOOKU: Me? Nothing? What’s happening? Another rumble, stronger this time. JENZA: It’s a groundquake. DOOKU: (NARRATION) But it wasn’t the scrape of tectonic plates that caused me to clasp my head in pain, but an impossible bellow slicing through my mind as easily as plasma carves through flesh… The beast roars in his head. DOOKU: (SCREAMS IN PAIN) JENZA: Dooku! DOOKU: So loud. Another roar. More rumbles. DOOKU: I can’t—(SCREAM) The full force of the groundquake hits, the walls cracking. JENZA:We need to get outside! Masonry tumbles from the domed ceiling, crashing to the ground nearby. All the time, the monster bellows in Dooku’s head. DOOKU:(PAINED) Make it stop! JENZA: Dooku! Please. We need to move before the roof comes down! Dooku! The assembly hall collapses on them.

Dooku and Sifo-Dyas in the Bogan Collection:

DOOKU: Hey. Look at this. SIFO-DYAS: Seriously. That’s what you want to look at? There’s all these…scrolls and weapons and whatever that creepy mask thing is, and you want to look at a lump of old metal? DOOKU: There’s something about it…something I’ve felt before. SIFO-DYAS: Doo. Look at this. I think it’s a parang. We start to hear a noise inside Dooku’s mind, a growl like he heard in the assembly hall on Serenno. Low. Ominous. DOOKU: (WINCES) SIFO-DYAS: Dooku? DOOKU: Can’t you hear it? SIFO-DYAS: Hear what? DOOKU: The beast below. SIFO-DYAS: Okay. Very funny. Drop the act. This place is spooky enough as it is. The growl intensifies. DOOKU: It’s coming. SIFO-DYAS: What? DOOKU: Coming for us. Coming for me. SIFO-DYAS: Okay, now you’re freaking me out. Let’s look at something else, shall we? The growl becomes a roar. YOUNG DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION) And then it was in front of me, Jenza, fangs bared, wings outstretched. The same creature you showed me in the Assembly Hall. The Tirra’Taka. I can’t explain how but I could see it, feel its breath against my skin, its spines bristling, ready to attack, ready to tear us apart. DOOKU: (SCARED) No. SIFO-DYAS: Doo, calm down. DOOKU: Stay back! SIFO-DYAS: Dooku, there’s nothing there. DOOKU: Can’t you see it? Why can’t you see it? Sifo-Dyas goes to grab Dooku, as—in the young Jedi’s head—the monster prepares to attack. DOOKU: (CRIES OUT IN FEAR) YOUNG DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION) I pushed out with the Force, every cabinet in the Archive shattering at once. Sifo-Dyas was thrown back, smashing into a wall as artifacts tumbled to the floor. SIFO-DYAS: (GRUNTS) Alarms blare. SIFO-DYAS: (GROANS) Why did you do that? DOOKU: It’s gone. The creature. SIFO-DYAS: What creature? DOOKU: You couldn’t see it? SIFO-DYAS: I don’t know what you’re talking about. (WINCES) Dooku scrambles up, running to his friend, glass crunching beneath his feet. DOOKU: Are you all right? SIFO-DYAS: (WHIMPERING) My arm. I can’t move it. DOOKU: That doesn’t look good.

Dooku and Lene Kostana’s Confrontation:

LENE: Why would I be testing you? DOOKU: To see if we’re like you. LENE: Like me? What about me? DOOKU: I can…feel it inside you. Frustration. Anger. LENE: Is that so? We hear the roar of the Tirra’Taka in Dooku’s mind. Distant, but insistent all the same. DOOKU: (WINCES) LENE: Initiate? DOOKU: I sense the dark side. LENE: You do? Another roar. DOOKU: It must be stopped. LENE: And you’re the one to do it? DOOKU: Yes. YOUNG DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION) I launched myself at Kostana, my lightsaber slashing through the air only to be blocked… LENE: Not bad. Tera Sinube said you showed promise. They duel more, lightsabers crackling.

[.....] DOOKU: I knew it. [STRIKE] You are a Sith. LENE: There haven’t been Sith [STRIKE] for a thousand years. DOOKU: They haven’t been discovered, you mean? [STRIKE] LENE: Ha. I like you, Dooku. A good fighter. [STRIKE] Brave. Willing to go toe-to-toe with a [STRIKE] Dark Lord. Or should that be Dark Lady? [STRIKE] I never know. DOOKU: [STRIKE] I won’t let you win.LENE:And what exactly will you do? Summon the beast you heard in the collection? [STRIKE] The beast you hear now? DOOKU:(SUDDENLY UNSURE) I…I didn’t hear anything. LENE:Are you sure? [STRIKE] You’ve locked it away. [STRIKE] But it’s still in there. In your memory. I can feel it. DOOKU:Stop it. [STRIKE] You’re evil. [STRIKE] And I will stop you. The fight intensifies, Dooku forcing Lene back against the railing as he strikes again, and again, and again. YOUNG DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION) I don’t know what came over me. I’d always been so careful to keep my emotions in check, just as I’d been taught, but…I couldn’t control myself. I hacked at her time and time again, forcing her back to the edge of the balcony. All I could feel was her anger. Her rage…at least, I thought it was her. I couldn’t think, I could only act…and all the time, her convor flapped around our heads. Cawing. Screeching. Ready to claw out my eyes, anything to protect its mistress… LENE: (DROPPING THE ACT AS SHE REALIZES HE’S LOSING CONTROL) Okay. That’s enough, Dooku. DOOKU:No, it isn’t. He’s becoming frenzied. LENE:Dooku. Stop. [STRIKE] Stop! [STRIKE] YODA:(FIRM) Stop. Yoda’s sudden appearance stops the fight dead. [.....] DOOKU: She admitted it herself…She was talking…about Darth…Darth Sakia… YODA: Sakia? There was no such Sith. DOOKU: How do you know? We can’t have known them all. YODA: But know Kostana we can. Reach out with your feelings. DOOKU: I did. YODA: No. Reached inside you did. DOOKU: What? Lene extinguishes her lightsaber. LENE: Go ahead. I won’t resist. Tell me…have I been touched by the dark side, Initiate? We focus on Dooku’s still-ragged breath for a beat and then… DOOKU: I feel…I feel nothing. YODA: Dooku. Your lightsaber. DOOKU: I’m sorry. I… He extinguishes his own blade. DOOKU: I was so sure.

Lene & Dooku on Asusto:

DOOKU: (UNSURE) Okay. Eyes closed, it is. LENE: Now reach out with your emotions. But this time, open your mind to everything, not just the light. Remember how you felt on Mantero. DOOKU: What? LENE: The anger you felt. The betrayal. Remember how your sister looked at you. Remember her fear. [.....] DOOKU: (NARRATION) I burst through the foliage, my lightsaber flashing. The Abyssin drew their pulse-blasters, but I was too fast for them, slicing through first barrels and then limbs. But then…I couldn’t stop. I don’t know what it was, my shame over what had happened on Mantero or the dark side amplifying my fury as kyber focuses plasma. By the time my companions reached the clearing, the Abyssin were dead. I’ve read that the lumbering aliens can regenerate limbs, but there was no coming back from these injuries. Cautiously, Lene ignited her own lightsaber, as if wary of me… LENE: Dooku. It’s over. They’re done. DOOKU: No. Their evil remains. DOOKU: (NARRATION)I turned, slicing down the piled crates, cleaving the nerve disruptors in two. We hear Dooku breathe hard for a few moments before extinguishing his lightsaber. SIFO-DYAS: You feeling better now? DOOKU: No. Not while scum like this still exists. This is what we should be doing, Sifo. Not meditating, safe within Temple walls. We should be out here, restoring balance by whatever means possible. LENE: (WARNING) Dooku. DOOKU: (NARRATION) It was as though she feared I would turn my ire upon her. Perhaps I would have, blinded by emotions I could barely control, emotions she had stirred by bringing me to Asusto. But I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. None of us could. The moss Sifo-Dyas had first noticed had been slowly creeping into the glade, smothering the Abyssin’s corpses, rolling over our boots… [....] DOOKU: (NARRATION)I could barely hear Lene screaming at me to stop, couldn’t even hear the squelch of the moss as it traveled up my legs and over my back, drawing me into a cocoon.My head was ablaze with voices, ghosts of the past and echoes of the future. The ghostly voices assault him again, repeating, overlapping, becoming a cacophony. GHOSTLY VOICE: (JENZA) Brother. GHOSTLY VOICE: (YODA) Padawan. GHOSTLY VOICE: (ARATH) Idiot. GHOSTLY VOICE: (ANYA) Son. GHOSTLY VOICE: (GORA) Freak. GHOSTLY VOICE: (SAVAGE) Master. DOOKU: (STRAINED) Stop them! LENE: (PAINED) Padawans…this is an illusion…the dark side… DOOKU: You can hear them, too? SIFO-DYAS: The Force is with me. The Force is with me. (SIFO-DYAS REPEATS THIS OVER AND OVER AS A MANTRA, ADDING TO THE CACOPHONY.) DOOKU: Lene. I can’t block them out. Help me. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (JENZA) Help him. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (YODA) Help him. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (ARATH) Help him. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (ANYA) Help him. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (GORA) Help him. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (SIDIOUS) Help yourself. DOOKU: Lene! I can’t block them out. DOOKU: (NARRATION) But Lene was gone, consumed by the moss. Sifo-Dyas, too, was swallowed up, the moss pouring into his eyes, into his mouth. My lightsaber was sucked from my hands, the lichen numbing my skin. I thrashed and twisted, trying to free myself, but there was no escape… OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (JENZA) No escape. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (ARATH) No escape. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (YODA) Escape. OVERLAPPING GHOSTLY VOICE: (GORA) No escape. DOOKU: (CHOKING) Help me. Somebody, please. Help—(GAGS AS HE’S SMOTHERED) The moss squelches. DOOKU: (NARRATION) I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t even breathe. I was completely cocooned, consciousness slipping away… [....] Dooku’s scream dies in his throat like a man waking from a nightmare. He breathes hard as he finds himself back in the cavern. All is quiet. The chanting has stopped. Only a few of the torches are still burning, the others having gone out.Force lightning crackles over the rocks. LENE: (COMING AROUND) Dooku? How did we get down? DOOKU: (SHAKEN) I don’t know. She pushes herself up. LENE: (DISGUSTED) What’s that smell? DOOKU: (NOT SHOCKED) The Presagers. LENE: They’re…They’ve been burned to a crisp. But how…? Dooku turns. DOOKU: (SCARED) Master…I… LENE: Dooku. Your hands. DOOKU: (NARRATION) I looked down at the indigo light crackling around my fingers… [....] DOOKU: But…what are we going to tell Master Yoda? LENE: Nothing. DOOKU: But this isn’t like Mantero. The things we saw. (ASHAMED) The things we did. LENE: Dooku, listen to me. Yoda already has doubts about my work. He tolerates what I do, but if he found out I exposed two Padawans to the dark side… DOOKU: He’d shut you down. LENE: In an instant. This has to be our secret. Do you understand? DOOKU: It doesn’t feel right. He’s my Master. LENE: And it pains me to ask you, Dooku. But the work is too important, to the Order, to the galaxy as a whole. You see that, don’t you? Especially now. You’ve seen the dark side. You know what it’s capable of. DOOKU: What I’m capable of, you mean. LENE: No. No, I don’t. The visions. (DROPS HER VOICE) The lightning. That wasn’t you. It was that place. But you’re stronger. DOOKU:“The Force is strong.” LENE:“The Force is strong.” Don’t worry. Please. The future you saw, whatever it was, won’t come to pass. I can guarantee it. You’re a good man, Dooku. A good man.

Sifo-Dyas’ exposure to all of this causes him terrible damage:

BRAYLON: While I cannot get involved, I have a friend who doesn’t give a damn what the Council thinks of her. Footsteps approach. LENE: Hello, Dooku. DOOKU: Lene. Sifo-Dyas. When he speaks, we realize that Sifo-Dyas has developed a slight stutter. SIFO-DYAS: Your shuttle awaits. [....] RAMIL: Increase the voltage! The shocks intensify, as does Dooku’s resolve. DOOKU: I am Jedi! And I am not alone! The action moves back down to the ground… JENZA: (NARRATION) Below, on the ground, Dooku’s blade buzzed in my ear, while Sifo-Dyas writhed on the ground beside me, his mind aflame… SIFO-DYAS: It is now. Coming into focus. The future. And then, belowground, the Tirra’Taka howling. JENZA: (NARRATION) And beneath our feet, Lene struggled to hold Dooku’s beast in place. LENE:No. You must remain calm. JENZA: (NARRATION) For that was exactly what it had become. One mind. LENE:(HORRIFIED) No. JENZA: (NARRATION)Two bodies. LENE: Dooku! Don’t! The Tirra’Taka roars, louder than ever. [....] Deep below, the Tirra’Taka erupts into the air, bellowing. JENZA: (NARRATION) The creature burst from the shattered ground, scaled wings blocking out the sun. Sifo-Dyas laughed as he saw it, his sanity fracturing forever, as the droids looked up in confusion. But I knew what it was, a legend made terrifying flesh. Our savior. I sprang up, barging into the droid that held Dooku’s lightsaber, knocking it back. JENZA: (SHOUTING) Attack them! Now! JENZA: (NARRATION) The refugees snatched up the weapons we had stolen from the fleeing Abyssin, blasting the droids before they could regroup. We hear the sounds of battle, and the roar of the monster. SECURITY DROID: Attack the creature! Attack the— Force lightning swamps the droid before it can finish its sentence. JENZA: Energy burst from the Tirra’Taka’s maw, washing over the security droids. The monster swept down, snatching the melting droids from the ground, crushing their bodies between its hooked talons like magella nuts.A figure clung to its serpentine tail, fingers curled around obsidian scales. She jumped when she saw Sifo-Dyas curled in a ball in the dirt.

#count dooku #lene kostana #yoda #sifo dyas #jedi order #jedi #dark side #meta #novels #long post under read more

482 notes · View notes

shewhowantsmouseears · 5 years

Note

Since you're taking prompts, why not write something for one of your old weblena fairy tale aus

I was torn between SHE’S MINE inspiration from friendship hates magic, and a sweet, soft dance thing that is sort of based of a RP i’m doing with a pal, and the latter on out!

There were numerous reasons Webby hadto hide her wings, and therefore her origins – being a fairy, evena weak one, would have spooked the villagers and tempted the hands ofthose with dark hearts. At least, that was normally the reason herfriends encouraged her to hide them. Today had an additional reason –seeing a fairy gorge herself on the ball buffer would have destroyedthe reputation of faeries everywhere. Thankfully it didn't take muchmagic for Webby to make her wings invisible, so she could snack awayto her heart's content.

“So, do you guys have four stomachslike a cow, or...?” Dewey asked as Webby consumed what had to beher fifth sandwich. The ball was in full swing, and most of theattendants were dancing the night away, lost in romantic music andgentle embraces.

“Aw, gimmie a break.” Webby repliedafter an inelegant burp, reaching over to grab a fistful of...honestly, she didn't know what it was, just that it was different,which was good enough for her. “Creatures like me are supposed tosurvive on honey and dewdrops. You have any idea how good mortal foodtastes after years of bee goop and grass water?” She might havemade a comment on how lucky mortals had it, but this was difficult totell as she was speaking between hefty chews.

Dewey was beginning to have seriousdoubts about the plan he and his brothers cooked up, but he wasrarely one to change his mind even in the worst of circumstances.“I'm just saying you could stand to look a little less... messytonight.”

“What for?” Webby asked, lickingher fingers to make sure nothing had been missed. “I'm the fairygodmother!”

“In-training.” he reminded her.

“In-training,” she repeated, “Butstill! I'm the background character, I'm the one nobody notices untilmy help is needed. And my chosen ward doesn't need my help tonight,this is just practice – is that cheese?” She made a swipe forsomething sticky, just as Dewey noticed Huey giving him the signal –two fingers from each hand, twirling about.

“Practice for the 'big ball ofdestiny', right?” Dewey asked as he grabbed Webby by the shoulders,pulling her away from the table. “The one where Lena walks in withthat fluffy magical dress you make for her-”

“And that lasts for more than thirtyseconds,” Webby lamented, as that spell still needed a lot of work.

“And then she captures everyone'sattention just by walking in, and her chosen prince, or duke, orlord, or whatever, falls in love with her at first sight, and thenthey have that nice, long, slow dance.”

“... Have I told you all thisbefore?”

“About thirty-six times.”

“Well, yes, that's how the actualball will go. This one's just for practice, so when she makes herdebut, everything goes perfectly.” She paused, noticing she wasbeing lightly pushed away from all the yummy food. “What are youdoing?”

“Tell me more about the plan!”Dewey kept pushing, catching Louie's eyes – his brother winked, andset about meshing himself into the crowd, distracting the rightpeople with smooth talk and smoother cons. “Okay, so, Lena walksdown the big staircase that leads right here to the dance hall, isthat it? Hand on the banister, step by step, her other hand ever solightly holding into her dress so she doesn't trip, eyes gazing overthe crowd...”

“Boy, I really have told you thisthirty-six times. Why do you want to know, anyway?”

“Welllllllll.” Dewey stretched outthe word as much as possible before finally stopping near thestairway, and dabbing her cheek with a napkin. “I was justwondering if it'd look anything like that.” he pointed to the topof the stairs, and predictably, Webby's eyes followed.

“Look like what?” But she got heranswer in seconds.

Lena was still in disbelief she wasdoing this. She still had no intention of ever following theridiculous destiny Webby was convinced she had, and a girl like herhad no place anywhere near royalty, much less a party they werethrowing. She was the kingdom outcast, the witch's slave, scorned andhated by all if not pitied. She was not meant to have a happy life,not meant to have friends, not meant to feel beautiful, and severalmonths ago she was convinced none of this would change.

Now here she stood, at the top of thebanister, heart beating in her throat as she looked downward. Shedidn't belong here, and the temptation to run away still burned hotlyin the back of her mind. Despite this, she found the strength to takea step, moving quietly down the stairs, the dress not feeling asuncomfortable as she thought it would. As long as she kept it clean,she could return it to the tailor in the morning and have her aunt benone the wiser about any missing money.

Maybe the color would prove Webbywrong, she tried to joke in her mind – what princess would wear allblack? Black lacing on her legs, black heels on her feet, black silkroses forming a cursed collar around her neck, white lines markingacross her outfit like freshly-spun spider webs. She hadn't worn itlong, and she fumbled once, grasping onto the banister, her faceflushing with embarrassment. But the whole world didn't stop to pointand mock – it went on ignoring her. She took a deep breath andtried again, and as she walked downwards, she finally saw Webby.

Webby, for her part, hadn't dressed upat all. Why would she? Fairy Godmothers were supposed to blend inwith the crowd, be ignored and out of the way until they were needed.So she had on her usual pink dress, the one that seemed to sparklewith every giggle she made, ever changing flowers hanging around theedge so she always smelled like a newborn forest. So she lookedcompletely normal – save for her eyes so wide they threatened toroll out of her skull, and her jaw that hung open wide enough that alarge fish could jump inside. Dewey took care of the latter, calmlypicking up Webby's lower beak and closing it. “Looks nice, doesn'tshe?” Dewey said.

“Nuffhug.” said Webby, whichwasn't really a word, but more like her brain being squeezed tightlyand that puff of noise being the last remnants of rational thoughtshe had.

“Atta girl.” Dewey lightly slappedher arms. “You two have fun, 'kay?” Satisfied, he shot fingersguns towards Lena, and then quickly fled to join his brothers – itwas up to them to make sure the more snooty members of society didn'tget Lena kicked out, and that the girls could have a good timetogether.

At last Lena made it to the final step,and now she stood in front of Webby, who looked ready to tip over andpass out if one gave her a good enough poke. “Hey.”

The word managed to, somewhat, snapWebby back to reality. “Hey!You look... you look... you look...”She repeated it a few more times until she actually heard the recordskip of her own voice, and gave herself a hard mental slap. “GOOD!Good is the word I would use. To describe you.” It wasn't accurate,but to be fair to Webby, she believed a word had yet to be inventedto properly detail Lena's appearance in this brand new dress she'dnever seen before. Was there a single word to express the colors ofthe comforting darkness when the night sky began to envelop yoursight and began to glitter the sky with stars of confidence andacceptance? She didn't think so, nor did she believe she had themental fortitude to come up with it right now. She barely had themental fortitude to keep standing.

“Thanks, I think.” Lena smiled,tucking some loose hair away, feeling somehow a mix of humility andboldness. It was getting harder to remember, or care, that there wereother people around. “So what do people do at these things anyway?Just dance and eat, eat and dance?”

Webby latched onto information, sinceit gave her strength. “Technically it serves as a meet and greetfor King Scrooge and travelers from the north so they can have adiscussion about opening trade routes while in a relaxing atmosphere.But for the rest of us... yeah, pretty much just dancing and eating.”

“I'm not exactly in the mood to eat.”This wasn't entirely true, she was hungry but she didn't want to riskdamaging the clothes she couldn't afford. “And judging from thatpiece of lettuce sticking out your mouth, I think you're good.”

The young fairy blushed, and licked herlips to get rid of the evidence. “I guess that means we can dance.Huey taught me how!” It would take an embarrassingly long amount oftime before she was even close to realizing that had been part of theset-up. “See, you put your hand here, and I put mine there...” Onthe surface, it was just as easy as Webby said it was. Left hand toLena's hip, right to Lena's hand - Lena's other hand on her shoulder- step back, step to the side, step forward, step to the side,repeat."Afteryou do this for a while, you can do it without thinking about it!One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four."

Itwasn't picture perfect – Lena did step on Webby's foot a few times,but Webby laughed it off each time, regaling times she had been inmuch worse pain - remember when they were being chased by unicorns?How about that time with the knight's cursed armor? Then there wasthat whole atrocity with Doofus by the creek... the girls giggled andswayed as they repeated the stories they had lived through together,making up silly arguments and trying to spin the endings to suit thembetter. As Webby predicted, the simple movements soon becameclockwork, moving without thought in that small space of the ballroomfloor.

Theconversation died down little by little, but not due to awkwardnessor running out of things to say. It was something akin to beingcontent, if Webby had to put her finger on it – she who wanted anexciting life of daring action was quite surprised to find joy inthese quiet, slow times. She didn't understand it, and decided thatdidn't really matter. She could simply be with Lena all day long, notchanging a word, merely enjoy her presence and that would be enough.How funny, she thought, that before meeting Lena, she believed sheknew the extent of happiness. Those times were colorless and dullcompared to now.

Lenacould see herself reflected in Webby's big, emotional eyes, and wasslowly beginning to believe that Webby did in fact like her as morethan just her “chosen ward”. That they were friends by choice andnot chance, that they would remain close no matter what destiny hadin store. Of course, by virtue of being older and knowing more waysof the world, she knew exactly what her feelings for Webby were. Ithad become insane to deny them any longer, even though she had vowedto never say them in the waking world. This night would be like adream – happy, yes, but only temporary. A night of self-indulgence,granted by three boys who didn't know how to mind their own business.

Ifthis wasn't a dream – if there were no faeries or destinies orwicked aunts – Lena could imagine what she would have done. Maybetwirl Webby around clumsily to hear that charming laugh of hers, atickle or two before the younger girl begged her to stop, beforetrailing her fingers through those white locks that seemed softerthan petals and probably smelled even sweeter. If this wasn't adream, Lena imagined her cupping Webby's warm cheeks and taking areal first kiss, the kind that sappy schoolgirls dreamed of betweenprinces and doting young maidens, only here it would be real and pureand beautiful. Because, with Webby, because of Webby, Lena did feelbeautiful, and that every action she could do could be beautiful too.

Byfalling in love with Webby, Lena had been allowed to love herself aswell. For this, Lena felt gratitude that could never be repaid, soshe chose to never act on it.

“Lena?”Webby suddenly asked, her voice small and petite and ever sograceful.

“Yeah?”

Thefairy smiled, and Lena was sure that no matter how beautiful Webbymade her feel, nothing and no one could ever as amazing to look asWebby when she smiled. “Thanks for coming.”

Lenasmiled in turn, and pressed her forehead to Webby's own. “I'm gladI came. But if I sweat through this dress, you owe me big time.”Deflect with a joke, deflect with attitude, deflect deflect deflectand never let her know how you really feel – because tonight was adream and Lena never wanted to wake up.

EventuallyCinderella's carriage would turn back into a pumpkin, the horses backinto mice, and the princess back into a slave in her own home – buthere and now, there was no magic, not even as their fingersintertwined and they felt sparks fluttering in their chest. It wasjust two girls, happy and in love, as the music carried them on.

#ducktales 2017 #weblena #webby vanderquack #lena de spell #Anonymous

37 notes · View notes

violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Appetence [3/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #incubus (sort of) #paranormal investigator

Canon-Compliance: Alternate Universe; Jason still died but was not found by Talia when he was resurrected. All other events mostly follow the same chronology as New Earth continuity, with mentions made to events in New 52

First Chapter

Author's Note(s): Bit of a shorter chapter today because I have stuff to do later so I'm updating early.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

It’s another two hours before Jason returns to the East End. It had taken all of his concentration to keep Cole’s ghost focussed on him and his stories, instead of whatever unnamed force might tempt him back to gravesite. After the boy vanishes in the gradual, whispering way spirits do when their unfinished business if met, Jason doubled over at the sudden migraine.

He much prefers when unfinished business can be completed in one place instead of having to carry a phantom passenger with him.

Being tired—and now that he thinks about it, hungry—does not help his bad mood.

Another kid. Another victim of the fucking Joker.

Just how many more kids was the nutcase going to take out? How many more Robins? Because Jason’s seen pictures of the new kid—blurry and imprecise as anything to be found in a Gotham tabloid, but enough for someone with an eye for it to judge some facts—and he’s fucking tiny. It doesn’t matter that the girls in the Bowery where Jason lives say he’s meaner and more dangerous than any of the others. He’s smaller than Jason’s replacement—smaller than that girl even. What the hell is Bruce thinking?

Again, the temptation rises within him to hightail it over to the manor without warning and rip Bruce a series of new ones while he’s too busy gaping in shock to defend himself.

He doesn’t, though.

Knowing Bruce, he’d think it was a trick and beat the snot out of Jason, then stick him in a cell somewhere until he could confirm his identity. Jason’s been behind the door of enough cells to last him a lifetime, and that alone holds him back.

And who’s to say he doesn’t blame me for getting myself killed in the first place?

He knows that’s not likely, somewhere deeply buried inside, but it’s hard to shake the idea. Old insecurities return in full, memories of pity and concern and frustration, and his final moment waiting for his dad to save him and being disappointed.

And then being disappointed again when his wits returned to him and he discovered the Joker was still breathing. That Bruce didn’t deal with it—didn’t kill the fucker that killed Jason and shot Barbara.

He remembers that horrible week, wondering if she was going to live or die, and then being told she’d never walk again. Vibrant, ass-kicking and beautiful Batgirl with her wings forever clipped. In a way, he thinks he’s angrier about Barbara than himself. As Robin, he was always going to be a direct target of the Joker; Barbara wasn’t shot and tortured because she was Batgirl—she was shot and tortured because she was Commissioner Gordon’s daughter.

And after all that, Bruce just put the bastard back in Arkham, where he could have a taxpayer-paid vacation then break himself out again whenever he felt like it.

Something needs to be done about him, and B’s sure as fuck not going to do it.

With every step, Jason finds himself getting a little angrier. It’s a cool rage, different from the volatile mess of hormones and emotions he was as a kid, but it’s still there. Say what you want for the brain damage, but he was so out of it that it’s probably why John’s meditation techniques took when Bruce’s didn’t, tempering him.

He’s still prone to rash action, of course, but for something like this—something as serious as the Joker—he’s going to have to think it through. Somehow, he doubts it’s just going to be as easy as walking into the asylum and shivving the guy. And Jason’s not exactly keen on getting arrested, not after he worked his ass off to set himself up with an identity and a job and everything here in Gotham.

It bears thinking about, and he can’t do anything immediate about it now, so he’ll sleep on it. Something will come to him.

Jason turns the corner, intending to do just that as he heads for his apartment.

Well, it’s not really an apartment. It’s more office space over a bar on the border of Crime Alley and the Bowery. It’s just cheaper to rent an office than an apartment these days; with housing costs soaring, even property in the worst parts of Gotham are wildly out of his price range.

(He’s not a billionaire’s son anymore.)

Might stay out of my price range for a while. PIs don’t make much, to begin with, and my niche is kind of…specific.

Mediumship isn’t exactly a lucrative business, nor is paranormal investigation. Both jobs attract the crazies, but he knows from experience the ones who are legit will pay good money for his services.

Still, the whole set-up isn’t so bad.

He’s been getting his food from the local bodegas and the bar downstairs, and he’s sure after a bit of saving he’ll even be able to go out to the occasional sit-down restaurant when he gets a craving for something gourmet-ish (He doesn’t think about how Alfred could whip up a do that would put the cordon bleu to shame).

Jason sprung for a decent quality sleeper sofa, so it’s not like he’s kipping on the floor and the office even has a bathroom with a shower, which was a big plus when his landlady, Trista, showed it to him. The ambulance chaser who occupied the space before him said he used to work a lot and needed to be able to shower between jobs. He’d also said if he hadn’t been so keyed into his job, he’d have noticed his life falling apart around him and not shot himself three months ago.

Yeah, that was a fun one…

Since helping the previous owner move on and then taking up residence in the cramped office space, Jason’s made a point of warding the entire office against any other wandering spirits.

I happen to have very strict office hours, ta very much.

He pauses on the street leading to his place, his stomach growling again, and decides he’ll head into the bar for a pick-me-up beforehand. Trista, who also owns that place, doesn’t offer a lot in the way of food, but what she does is pretty good. Hers is the only place he’s been so far that can make decent fish and chips.

As he heads in that direction, he notices a familiar face standing on the corner across the street. He decides to make a quick detour.

“Rhonda,” he says with a grin, “you’re lookin’ especially gorgeous tonight.”

“Boy, I don’t need you to tell me shit I already know,” the woman tells him with a sniff. “And if you’re cruisin’ for a lay, I’ll tell you what I always tell you—you too young.”

“You’ve been tellin’ me that since I was twelve,” he grins.

Rhonda is the only person here in Gotham that knows he’s back, and that’s only because recognized him one night while he was heading back from a job. When he first landed himself on the streets as a kid, Rhonda was one of the girls who looked out for him and whatever other orphan was wandering around here at the time. After he was adopted by Bruce, he made a point of checking up on her as Robin, chasing off johns that tried to get over her time (even though she was already pretty good at managing that herself) and buying her food whenever he could. He never expected her to still be here when he got back, but she’d taken one look at him and cursed.

“I knew that story about you bein’ dead was bullshit,” she informed him as she took a drag of a cigarette. “What you do, run off on the rich man or some shit? He been tellin’ everyone you’re dead for years now.”

“To him, I am dead,” he’d replied, not wanting to go into it. “And everyone else better keep thinkin’ that too.”

“Ain’t gonna hear it from me,” she’d shrugged. “But why the fuck did you come back to this shithole?”

“Home’s home,” he had shrugged, and she’d nodded because she knew exactly what he was talking about.

Now, she sizes him up and considers his face. “Rough night, it looks like. You gettin’ in trouble again?”

“Nah, just exorcisin’ some…personal demons. Quiet night for you?”

“Mostly. There was a cape around couple minutes ago, though, so keep an eye out.”

She knows he tends to avoid them.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Which one?”

Christ, I hope it wasn’t Batman or Robin. Don’t think I could take seeing either of them tonight.

“It was Red. Came through to ask some questions.”

It takes him a moment to connect the name to the roster of vigilante’s he made himself memorize before coming back here. Red Robin is the one he suspects used to be his replacement, probably got graduated or replaced himself when the newest brat was put in the boots.

“He came here?” Jason asks. “Why?”

“Usual mask thing, comin’ down here to talk to the little people who might’ve seen somethin’.”

Jason makes a thoughtful noise, a bit impressed. He was always the only one who bothered coming down here; even Bruce avoided the minor crooks of the Alley after he started getting more invested in Gotham’s rogues.

“Red’s good people,” Rhonda says then, looking like she’s considering something. “He’s the only one that tries with us. Pays good money, buys food—sorta like Robin used to. And you know he’s doin’ it on purpose, ‘cause when he’s around the city, he usually sticks to Chinatown or Tricorner. That’s what the news say, anyway.”

Jason is again surprised. “Definitely goin’ out of his way then.”

“Hm.”

He thinks about it a further minute and then shrugs. “Anything else interesting happening tonight? You need anything?”

“Yeah, for you to get off my corner so I can get to work,” Rhonda retorts. “Unlike you, I don’t like livin’ off bar food. Gotta be careful what you put in the temple, you know?”

“I dunno, give me a chili dog any day…”

Jason chuckles as she shoes him away, and then continues on his way to the bar. Maybe he’ll pick up something to go—

Just as he’s about to step into Trista’s bar, the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and he feels a minor flicker of vertigo.

Something’s off.

Turning back to the street, he casts his eyes about, looking for anything out of ordinary to explain the sudden unease. Something nags at him, something that feels…hungry almost.

Since his senses are only attuned to the spirit of the dead, a hungry presence is never a good sign. Ghosts can sometimes become so enraged over their deaths, so tied to the mortal realm, that they become psychic vampires, attaching themselves to the living and feeding off of them like a parasite until they drop from exhaustion.

Fuck. Can’t leave one of those wandering around, if that’s what this is.

He gives an irritated groan and walks away from the bar, turning his focus on tracking the sensation. It’s not exactly calling out to him personally, but it’s still present enough for him to notice.

Jason digs into his pocket, winding his prayer beads around his wrist and checking if he’s still got any iron on him. Nothing big enough to make much difference, but for distraction if it comes to it.

As he reaches the end of the block, Jason catches sight of the cape first.

Damn, I don’t miss the days of having to wear gear like that.

Because that cowl thing the vigilante is sporting is almost as much a tragedy as the green leotard Jason used to sport (they weren’t panties, fuck you very much, they just looked that way—as if Alfred would allow someone to go outside the house in just their underwear). And the cape is so thick it gives him no idea as to the stature or body behind it.

At least this Red Robin guy is smart enough to have a full body-armor suit instead of pixie-boots and a t-shirt.

Might be the only thing he’s smart about, judging by his company.

The too-perfect-looking young man that beckons the vigilante to follow him into the alleyway is all cold blue eyes, sharp smile, and sleek movement. And even if Jason couldn’t read the malevolent aura emanating from the direction of the two men (and that’s a doozy, especially if it’s coming from only one individual), he’s seen that look before in eyes just as cold.

He knows the tactics of an incubus seeking its next meal, and this one seems to have decided it has a taste for vigilante tonight.

This isn’t really Jason’s thing—incubi are low-level demons, more John’s area of expertise than his. Getting involved would mean willingly crossing paths with one of Gotham’s masks, which he’s been taking pains not to do since returning.

But he’s also not allowing any kind of unrestrained feeding and killing to happen on his turf. And these darkest, dingiest parts of Gotham have always been his. Even when he was trailing after the big Bat.

Plus, this guy is Red Robin.

Jason hasn’t had any particular interest in the growing number of masks cropping up in Gotham over the years, but this guy’s obviously a bird. Which means Jason has a kind of personal connection to him. Call it brothers-in-arms or something poetic like that, even if they’ve never met.

Also, the way incubi feed…no one deserves to have that happen to them, especially in a filthy alley like this one. Jason’s always had concern over consent issues, and with incubi, the way they get that consent literally straddles the line far too closely for his taste. This Red Robin might be Bat-trained, but unless he’s taken a master class in the occult (doubtful, considering Bruce’s distrust of anything resembling magic), he’s being led away like a lamb to the slaughter.

Probably he’s already been ensnared by the thing’s powers and doesn’t even realize it. Like a baby bird in front of a snake.

Jason sighs in defeat and rolls his shoulders in preparation for what he knows is going to be an unpleasant interlude.

“Time to be a hero,” he mutters to himself and stalks toward the shadowy alley where the two figures have disappeared.

⁂

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytimbingo2019 #JayTim #fanfic #jaytim fic #jason todd #tim drake #original characters #prompt: supernatural #drama #mystery #angst #incubus #paranormal investigator

8 notes · View notes

foolscapper · 6 years

Text

Exploding Head Syndrome: A MCU Post-IW Fanfic | Ch. 4

(READ IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.)

What happens when you pile a bunch of doctors into a medical wing with a catatonic spider-kid? A hell of a lot of things going on at once, it turns out. Bruce can't complain about it, because it at least keeps him focused on anything other than himself; life has been one big roller-coaster he hasn't been able to get off of since Ultron (no, wait, way before that), and all he wants is to sit in a lab and work on anything that isn't his own self-worth and mental capsizing. Two years killing aliens for sport as a gladiator will do that to you. Yeah, he still hasn't figured out how to work with this, so he just went ahead and put all that in a way-too-small box in his brain. Hooray for compartmentalizing. Back to work. Cho has already gently pulled a sample of Parker's tissue from one of his arms to study his particularly complex cell structure, as is her particularly crucial talent, and Strange has returned from his own collection of ancient texts, Wong hovering at his side to offer whatever knowledge he can in the ways of the soul — to which Bruce knows Tony's grateful, but he also is well-aware that the man is running on fumes by the third day of diagnostics. The genius had been animated with the news of Peter's return, and that scene outside is still fresh in his mind as he eyes the reports that have come back from MRI scans of Peter's brain. There's no damage, no signs of anything that would cause this kind of dramatic loss of self, which Bruce semi-expected with the way Dr. Strange had gone on about the potential effects of the stones on a kid like Peter. There are variables. It's possible someone did this to him — that he was targeted, that maybe Thanos did something specific in the snap that left Peter completely vulnerable to complications. That doesn't too much sense in the grand scope of things, but it surely the madman had some range of control over who stayed and who went. The thing is, Thanos was dead. This shouldn't be a complication. Should it?

Perhaps it's someone outside of Thanos. Someone from his roster, maybe. But that would also be an odd way to handle payback, especially when the Guardians and Strange were also at their mercy. Bruce didn't rule out the possibility that something from the planet itself might have effected Parker, especially when Titan may very well effect every one of them differently. Strange collected some of the dirt and debris carried over onto the Benatar, and from Peter and Drax's boots, but the results of the study yielded very little. "He's not completely human, that much is certain," Cho says, not unkindly. "If you look at the way his DNA is structured, it is much different than any string I would pull from myself or any normal boy off the street. But if there's a correlation with the way he's reacted to resurrecting, I have not found it yet." Bruce glances at Tony, biting his lip. "His brain scans are clean, too. I've sent everything to Shuri, though, just in case they can find something we don't. Which, you know, is a... pattern... lately..." Tony was up at all hours after the kid had been put to bed, compiling all manner of documents highlighting medical complications and disorders of the mind, and at this point Bruce is tempted to lock him out of the lab (though he's also more than aware he may also be punched in the teeth for it, and the last thing anyone needs is for Hulk to finally decide to pop back in)... Three whole days, though. It's not healthy, and yes, he's not the pinnacle of good mental health himself, but... He twiddles with a pen in his hands, once the two of them are alone (well, Peter is here, too... so they're alone enough). "Hey, we've got this. You're not gonna be any good to this kid if you're passing out mid-conversation." "We've got a bigger problem than that," Tony mumbles, rubbing at the exhaustion all over his face. They're both sitting at a counter near the lounge chairs; why aren't they sitting on the lounge chairs? Bruce is seeing a missed opportunity for comfort here. Peter has the right idea.

Tony adds, "... He hasn't eaten anything."

And okay, that is a pretty important thing to bring up. He'd been putting it off in the hopes they'd find something sooner, to avoid what he figured might have to be done. But even with practically living in the lab with this unresponsive kid, they're no closer to closing in on what's making him tick — or not tick, in this case — and resources are waning. Bruce bites his lip, not happy with what he'll have to say. "He's going to need a temporary feeding tube of some kind, soon. Until we can get any kind of result." "Oh, god." And Bruce sees in his friend's eyes, the slow unraveling that comes with helplessness. He wishes there was something he could say that was any more calming, but the fact of the matter is that Peter is his patient for the meanwhile, and he has to say exactly what's in the kid's best interest, whether it's emotionally draining or not. He's tired, they're all tired, Peter's probably hungry, and nobody wins in this situation. "He's not a typical case, either. His metabolism is too high to do anything different, Tony, I'm sorry. He's already losing way too much weight for just being a few days back, and IV drips are only gonna get us so far. Even if he's not mentally there right now, it's not humane to—" Tony's fist is a sharp, echoing sound against the metal table under his arm. "I know, alright? I know!" A silence falls over them where they sit, and Peter — as always — only blinks and breathes where he sits nearby. It must be so much, to watch someone you love look like this for so long. Too long. Every glance in the boy's direction is a reminder of just how powerless they can all be, despite their collective minds, their hours and hours of best efforts. Bruce leans back, almost affronted by the simmering heat in Tony's rounded shoulders, tapping his pen to his teeth a few times before he says with a raised brow, "... Are you gonna hulk out on me? Do I need to get the armor out?" It works enough to tame the beast. And maybe even earn a hidden, miserable smile as Tony's face descends into shadow behind his fists. "Ha, ha. Very funny." More softly, Bruce replies, "... It won't be a big deal. It's an hour-long surgery at most, and it's extremely noninvasive and basic, and Cho can do it in her sleep. It's just a little button, practically — you won't even notice anything's any different, and he'll be all the more healthy for it, right? It's for Peter's well-being." Tony cards a hand through his hair, looking at Peter, who is sitting as compliantly as the day he'd been walked in. "... You're a fucking pain in the ass, Pete," he says. It's a strained response, and Bruce reaches out to cup one of Tony's shoulders. His doctoring isn't just limited to Peter, and he can see just how drained Tony is; he wears the bags under his eyes like a fashion accessory, and while that's usually all fine and good and expected of someone like him, enough is enough. He can't watch his friend self-combust in front of him."And you need to rest. I'm serious, man. Do you think he wants you to overwork yourself to death here?" "He doesn't want anything right now, because nobody's at the door, Bruce. And I don't know what to do." "Right now? Sleeping is what you do. You're no good to him if you're not at your best." A pause. "I'm getting Pepper." He stands, and Tony looks after him helplessly. "No, hey — goddammit."

Stephen has met few as stubborn as Tony Stark, but he supposes that's one reason the earth had ultimately been in the best of hands, against Thanos and his unruly power. It takes a few arguments and a hell of a lot of coaxing and an unfair advantage of using a two year old baby, but eventually Tony relents with Bruce and Stephen's promise that they won't do anything until Tony can decide how to approach May Parker about this (this poor woman doesn't even know, she has no clue, and how are they going to explain to this poor woman that her adoptive son is here but not here at all?). Tony also adds an addendum, that he has to be present for every goddamn moment of any surgery involved here no matter how small, 'so help me god'. It's a fair request, one that Stephen gives his word to honor. He consults with Cho and Bruce, and they're in agreement: a percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy, however temporary it is, is imperative for their patient. It would have never been something he would have cared about, in his professional career. He would have not given Peter Parker a second glance in the hospital, would have passed him off to someone else like he had been the most minor of roadblocks. A thoughtful silence falls over them as Dr. Cho talks about their short-term gameplan. Strange admittedly has a lot he should be doing; the Time Stone is back in its rightful place, and the whole world is reeling from the events of the last few years. He'd only given himself enough time to comb through old records at the Sanctum and remind Christine, rather lamely, that he's back from the dead. She had nearly strangled him in her embrace, but it was a soft moment he wouldn't trade for anything. "... I'll oversee the surgery as well," he finally speaks, glancing back at Peter. He's been there for every step of the conversation, and part of him hopes that a teenager hearing the word 'surgery' applied to them will make them suddenly spring to life with anxiety, like a kid realizing he's on his way to a dentist. Nothing of the sort happens, but even Stephen is not allergic to hopeful optimism. "I can promise you, he'll be in safe hands," Cho says worriedly, but he shakes his head with a raised hand. "It's not that. I trust you to be knowledgeable; you're a credit to your field. I just want to know for myself as well, that everything goes exactly as expected." If he can't take an hour out of his day to look out for a teammate, then he doesn't deserve to wear the cloak. "We'd love to have you," Bruce says, then smiles a little. "Are you, uh. Close with Peter?" He considers it for a moment, and only a moment, fleeting. For some reason, most of that moment comprises of memories, of one Peter Parker excitedly rambling at him about magic and floating cloaks for an hour prior to crash landing. He huffs a breath, almost a laugh. "Not particularly, to be honest. I'd only met him on an alien spaceship a day before we all were killed. But — his involvement in our timeline can't be overstated. And... the kid did save my life. And helped me avoid a great deal of torment. So I suppose he's a temporary... ward, of sorts. I'm indebted to him. What about you?" "This is the first time I've met him, actually. But... he means a lot to Tony. And..." The doctor grows quiet for a moment with folded, contemplative arms, and Cho and Stephen give him a moment to continue. "And — I know what it's like." Strange cocks his head. Bruce sighs through his nose, eyes darkening with discontentment. A storm of ugly memories, all kept under lock and key; Stephen knows about the Hulk, of course, but he can hardly imagine the sorts of horror shows only Bruce banner is privy to. The man says, "I know what it's like, to be trapped in your own body. Maybe he's not, not exactly, and nothing like how I've been before, but... either way, he deserves to have it back." That's all that needs to be said. Stephen rises to leave after some time and a couple of warm drinks, hearing Bruce speaking effortlessly to Peter from around the corner before he fades further and further from earshot: "Hey kid, you're pretty good at this whole meditation thing; I'm a pro at it, myself. We should go out and get some air, maybe practice on the lawn. You could use some sunlight before you turn into a lab hermit like the rest of us old men." Wong hovers in the main corridor, newly arrived. A good sign. Stephen walks with him. "Anything from the Sanctum about the stones that might help this?" "Not very much," Wong relents. "What little can be found are based in texts that predate most everything we know as masters. However... I was able to look into what the Ancient One left behind in her many records and found something potentially helpful — and that is not necessarily something about the infinity stones, but about astral projection. I'll have to show you when we return, so you can help me decipher her chicken scratch." Stephen laughs softly, and they enjoy the sound of each other's footsteps. "... Do you have any theories, about what's actually wrong with the boy?" Strange purses his lips, and says at cautious length, "It's all just a theory, but... the woman, Mantis, she had been able to sense him within his body for a short time, even if it wasn't for long. I think more than anything else, it's possible that Peter returned to himself momentarily like the rest of us — and then panicked and let himself sink back into... wherever we all were." "Panicked?" Wong's brow furrows. "Over being alive again?" "... Over the pain of it. Stark had a hard time talking about it, but from what I can gather from his recollections, Peter's death was extraordinarily different from the rest of us. He felt that something was wrong before he'd passed, and it took him much longer than the rest of us to die. If I had to fathom a guess... I think maybe his composition was his own undoing. He's a scared child who couldn't cope with re-living that moment of suffering." "And what is the solution to that? Is there any?" Stephen looks to the side, where Bruce and Peter are resting in the sun, not too far from where the Benatar had landed — with them and bad news. For a moment Stephen worries about the safety of a mentally lost boy and a doctor sorely lacking in control over his green rage-monster, but then he notices the blot of red on the rooftops — Natasha Romanoff, accompanied by a suited-up Sam Wilson, watching with bird-like eyes over the resting figures. Stephen smiles faintly despite himself. "None that I can offer anyone right now. There may not be a solution. Even the Scarlet Witch couldn't find any foothold in the kid's mind... There's no link that we can find between him and the physical world. But if there's any hope at all, and if all else truly fails... my personal bet is on the Soul Stone." Though maybe — and this is a fluttering, unprofessional thought in the grand scheme of things — the extended hands of Peter Parker's worried team may be part of that solution, too. Stephen makes a mental note to compile as much as he can to give to Stark from the Ancient One's writings. And he gives silent thanks to her, that even after her passing, she's managed to help provide obnoxiously useful words of wisdom, be it in slowed thunder storms or old, time-stained scrolls.

#peter parker #tony stark #bruce banner #stephen strange #mcu #marvel #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #infinity war #mymcufanfic #hurt!peter parker #warning for medical talk #nothing graphic though #ehsfanfic

5 notes · View notes

slushblock · 7 years

Text

Fell - Chapter 8 - Awakening

Thank you all who are still here for sticking with me through this self-indulgent, overly dramatic backstory. :>

Little is more jarring than expecting to be transported somewhere, only to not be.

In the case of Axl and Aura, they had become accustomed to returning to their respective, homey rooms when using their mirrors. They were so panicked that they didn’t realize the mirrors were reflecting something else; the area where they’d first appeared in the world.

Only it was drenched in blood.

“O-oh my g- what… what?!” Axl was the first to voice his shock at this turn, taking a few steps in place in a vain attempt to shake off the squelchy, sticky red grass.

Aura looked around, trying to figure out what went wrong. She didn’t like the way the sky had darkened; it felt similar to the atmosphere of the corruption. She turned around, “Why wouldn’t we- oh… oh no,” she held up a hand, pointing in the direction of their house, “L-look!”

Thankfully, Axl had the foresight to build their manor not very far from their starting location. That convenience had saved Aura’s life when she first appeared. Not obscured by rain as it was back then, it was clearly visible between the rapidly wilting trees.

The vicious gash that was torn through the front of it was also visible, ripping the workroom in half and leaving gaping holes in both their bedrooms, as well as the storage room and stairwell.

“What the Hell did that?!” Axl choked, nearly dropping his mirror as he ran off towards his destroyed handiwork. As the two got closer, it became more and more obvious from the directionality of the malformed landscape that whatever had bloodied the ground and dying trees was responsible for the structural damage to the building. To accent the damage, there was a strange liquid strewn about, with the consistency of blood and the appearance of glowing, molten gold.

“Okay… so… this… th-this must be the spirit that the dryad mentioned when she said… blood,” Aura gulped, looking at the damage and, more intently, at the bizarre ichor. As tempting as it was, she refused to touch it. Much to her surprise, even Axl put his impulsiveness aside to avoid it; something about it just felt wrong, even without making physical contact.

Axl cursed under his breath, flipping the mask of his helmet up to get a better look, face etched with worry, “I… I hope there’s… I hope nobody-”

“Where the Hell were you guys?!”

The voice came from upstairs and both Aura and Axl’s attention snapped upward to see a fellow descending the dilapidated stairs. With dark skin, gray hair, and a long coat over a glittering bandolier, they recognized him as the arms dealer who had taken up residence shortly after Aura moved in. Neither had done much business with him, but Ren certainly had.

“What happened!?” Despite his obvious panic, Axl seemed somewhat relieved that there were survivors who seemed unharmed.

“Beats me! We were minding our own business when suddenly some bright red light appeared outside!” The arms dealer shouted down, as a few other tenants appeared from their rooms behind him, clearly shaken, “Whatever made it was far away, but then tore right through the place. Some huge monster we’ve never seen before! Just… this weird hulk of mismatched bodyparts!” He reached down and picked up the gun at his feet; the same shark-based model that Ren used against the giant, cursed skeleton at the dungeon, “We managed to fight it off, and it went off that way,” he pointed northwest, with a slightly cocky smirk, “I guess no amount of teeth can handle these guns-”

“Don’t take so much credit… I don’t think it wanted to fight. It looked scared even as it did,” murmured a red-clad man as he stowed a strange looking book in his coat. The adventurers almost didn’t recognize him as the old man from the dungeon. After moving in, he’d done quite the job of getting cleaned up, his matted beard and hair trimmed to compliment his dapper clothes. Despite that, he was still as grave and serious as ever, “And perhaps rightfully so… The land twisted when those lights emerged from underground, and it must be something truly terrible to frighten a beast that grisly… We’d probably best be getting to safety, ourselves.”

Axl shook his head, biting his lip. The idea that things were even more twisted than before didn’t sit well with him, and though the bloodied ground was already proof enough, he refused to believe it, “No… this wasn’t supposed to… I didn’t…” He took a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes tightly for a moment and really hoping he’d wake up from whatever was happening. When that failed, he let the air out sharply, “I’m heading upstairs. I need to see this for myself.”

Axl left them behind to run for the watchtower he’d installed, as fast as his heavy armor would allow him. Aura, much more lightly clad, kept pace with far less effort. The whole structure creaked ominously, a decent chunk taken out of its side, but still structurally sound enough to not collapse beneath them as they observed the damage to the landscape.

Much to their dismay, the corruption to the east had vastly increased in size, even past the boundaries they had created when they went through with the dryad’s magic powder to push it back.

That wasn’t all, however. To the northwest, the threatened green of the forest faded into light blue fields and pale trees with leaves of many colors. Glowing crystals peeked up through the ground, especially around the pearly exposed stone. Likewise to the southwest was another unknown land, full of tones of flesh and blood, resembling the withered vegetation by their house that had apparently been left by the monster the tenants described. However, it seemed to stop rather abruptly at the house, rather than continuing on in the direction the monster purportedly vanished.

“I… I don’t like this…” Aura paled, “Just one thing was bad enough…”

“Should have seen it coming…” Axl hunched over, slamming a fist into the stone railing, “Damn it! Why?”

“All right… yeah, this… this was a huge mistake,” Aura tried to cover up her shaking voice, “I think… I think we should go off that way,” she pointed towards the colorful, jewel-encrusted landscape, “That might be the home of the ‘light’ you were looking for… and the jungle is just beyond it. The dryad said we’d be safe th-”

Axl shook his head, gritting his teeth, “You go… I need to find Ren.” He pushed himself back from the railing, holding his head in one hand before looking up, “He said he wanted answers from that wall… well, now I want answers from him.”

Aura glared at him, holding up her hands, “Are you crazy?!”

“...Yes?” Came the incredulous response as Axl held his hands up almost in mirror to hers, “I… thought that was established?”

Something about that struck a faint sense of familiarity and Aura looked away, irritated, “...Shut up,” she attempted to dismiss, before glaring back at Axl, “You don’t even know where he lives!”

Axl rubbed his forehead, trying to itch his hairline as best he could with his helmet in the way, “Well, he never appeared here, and his face looked like it got screwed up by the Corruption… I think it’s safe to say that’s where he was living, if he was only getting worse...”

“You’re going back there… at a time like this,” Aura groaned loudly as she leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling, “Gods, you really are the biggest moron.” After a moment, though, she looked down at Axl with a sigh, “And you know what? So am I. Because at this point? I need to know, too.”

Axl was torn between feeling grateful and phenomenally guilty, but managed to nod with a weak grin as he put his mask down,”Th-thank you.”

They descended the tower, glancing back momentarily to watch as the remaining tenants discussed their own departure, before heading off towards the darkened landscape.

Apart from having spread beyond its old boundaries, the rocks were somehow more twisted, the brambles far more menacing, and the trees looking far less like anything proper trees should look like, with black,fang-like thorns bursting from the bark in place of branches. Even the usual floating gasbags seemed a lot larger and more threatening, with more mandibles and eyes, and dripping putrid fluids.

Even the common slimes had become corrupted by the landscape, seething with violet toxins. Some even mutated wings to fly. The far-reaching grip of the shadow’s malevolence only grew, and the two adventurers could feel it as they carved their way through the new horrors and they could only feel that they would not have succeeded without one anothers’ support.

They took a moment for a breather in one of the chasms, away from the things that could assault them from above. At their feet was the body of a large worm, lined with eyes, like a more direct offspring of the largest one - which the Guide had called the Eater of Worlds - they had battled what felt like ages ago. It bled putrid slime laced with a strange, glowing green that flecked up like flames. They refused to get anywhere near it. “Where… would he have been hiding all this time…” Axl gasped for breath, the weight of fighting things with a large sword while in heavy armor so soon after the fight with the wall beginning to really wear on him. He coughed, “It can’t have been somewhere that well-hidden.. He had to be able to get in and out easily.”

Aura took a moment to consider the question before pounding a fist into an empty palm, “...Why not try his elevator?” She pointed off in the approximate direction of the tunnel they’d revealed prior, “There were hidden doors all over the place that we had no idea how to open…”

“That’s… actually a really good idea,” Axl’s eyes went wide at the realization, pretending to snap his fingers despite not being able to even without wearing metal gauntlets, “What better place to hide something… than behind something in plain sight that the people you’re hiding it from would not want to break?” He cringed slightly, “That… paints an even more specific picture of why he was so angry when that worm tore through the place and damaged it back then.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice analysis,” Aura waved, looking around for any monsters as she began to head in that direction, “I think what’s going to happen now is way more important.”

A few large slimes and another one of the dripping, oversized rotbags later, they found the exposed brick. While patched up, Ren had made no attempt to cover it more than that. They already knew where it was, and for all intents and purposes they had been allies leading up to that point.

Either that, or he wanted them to find it again.

“Here goes nothing,” Axl mumbled as he pulled out his pick, glowing with molten fire. Even rebuilt and reinforced, the bricks crumbled under the powerful tool in one effortless swing, revealing the tube down. “Now… where would he keep an entrance to his place…”

Aura pointed upward, “Why not the top?”

Axl looked up, then shrugged, “Well, no better place to start.” Grappling to the side with his own hook, he scaled his way up to the top, taking his pick in hand and striking the brick there. He had to shield himself slightly from the falling debris. Beyond it was solid, corrupt rock, to which the chain leading down was fixed. Axl frowned, taking the chain and striking the wall where he had latched on. More ebonstone. He turned at a right angle and swung again.

Jackpot.

The brick caved to reveal a similarly bricked passage, with a planked wooden floor of an unusual hue reminiscent of the trees found dotting the corrupt landscape. Axl looked down and gestured to Aura that he’d found something, before moving to step into the new hallway. Aura followed him in with her own vine-crafted hooks, looking just as curious as she was unsettled.

The hallway wasn’t terribly long, opening up into a very sparse, drab bunker of sorts. Had it not been for the stone brick, the dark wood of the floor, lack of windows, and poor lighting, it would have felt very similar to their own rooms, but stripped down to a utilitarian bareness. A bed, a dresser, a table, a chair. At the back, stairs led both up and down to two other rooms. There were no other doors, but that wasn’t surprising; the large man did have a thing for hidden passages.

“Huh..,” Axl only barely resisted the urge to say something incredibly redundant like ‘so this is where he lived,’ instead opting to flip his mask up for visibility and carefully walking toward the stairs. Up top, he could already make out the telltale sound of a crackling furnace; most likely a workroom, not unlike their own, situated above to more easily vent the smoke. He ascended just enough to get a clear look, verifying his expectations; almost everything he thought would be there, apart from a more advanced furnace from the underworld. The only difference is it was more claustrophobically clustered together on sequences of platforms and benches, with an entire wall made up of meticulously labeled storage chests.

Scowling a bit at the conditions the ex-military adventurer had subjected himself to, Axl turned to head down the stairs in the other direction. It led down to yet another hallway, this one dark and significantly longer and terminating in a single room. Aura was already there, eyes wide at what was stored there, which would have been dimly lit with only a faint purple light if not for her torch. Axl took in a sharp breath.

It looked like some kind of macabre art gallery, or perhaps museum. The wall before them was lined with shelves containing a great many artifacts of varying sorts, including one of the toothy ‘altars’ they’d found in the chasms, sitting conspicuously on bare ebonstone that had been built around.. Most prominently, though, was the wall to their left, which was made up almost entirely of a large mural that looked right out of some kind of prophecy-laden ancient tomb. Whether Ren had found it here and built his home around it, or somehow managed to transport it here from elsewhere, neither mattered as much as the fact that it existed at all.

Just being there filled the adventurers with a single, all-encompassing thought.

This is it. The beginning of the end.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Axl squinted in the low light. He arched a brow, squinted again, then took his glasses off to wipe them, only to realize his armor didn’t really have any good cloth on it for doing so. With a groan he rolled his eyes and put his glasses back on, “Stupid outdated prescription. Can’t really see this thing clearly unless I put my face right up to it-”

He was interrupted mid-thought by a strange feeling, as if the very air of the room had trembled and thrummed. Aura felt it too and shivered, but remained fixated on the mural.

“You’re not missing much, it’s mostly faded anyway,” Aura mumbled, holding her torch towards it to light it up a little better, “There… really isn’t much to make out…” she frowned, “The writing on it looks similar to something I’ve seen on the stuff the goblins had.” She shuddered. She wasn’t particularly fond of that memory. The goblins appeared out of nowhere not long after they’d awakened the Eater of Worlds - and attacked in great numbers one day. While they’d managed to fend them off, it was a huge hassle, lead to more than a single death for both adventurers, and the brutish creatures were just as strong and resourceful as they were seemingly cruel.

Shaking the thought from her head, she continued, “Hell if I can read it, though. Aside that, I see something that looks like… something like falling stars. I can kind of see figures? I don’t know if they’re the stars themselves or something else.” The deep vibration cut her off again, and she nearly pulled herself away to look for its source, but not before recounting what little she could make out to Axl, “There was some kind of battle, obviously… I can’t tell if this is supposed to be the stars fighting each other, or joining together to fight something else… and the only other bit that I recognize is the wall of flesh in Hell. It looks like those stars were locked up inside of it?” She turned to Axl, “So… I guess we freed those stars?”

“Not any sort of stars I’ve ever read about… I don’t get it… but then again, what ever made sense here?” He half-smiled. It didn’t last, though. The room thrummed again, and Axl narrowed his eyes, turning around, “What is causing that-..?” He looked around at the other objects scattered about. There were quite a few, ranging from mundane things like books and scrolls, to much more threatening artifacts that radiated power, not unlike that from his sword. In fact, an open scroll next to the strange altar appeared to have some kind of instruction on it, and if the illustrations were any indication, explained how Ren knew to craft the dark weapon. How he read the indecipherable scrawl on it, though, was a matter of some worry.

The scroll barely received more than a glance, as attention was drawn away from it quickly by the most obvious of the objects in the room aside the mural. Floating opposite the mural’s wall was a sphere, much like one of the dark, pearl-like orbs in the chasms, only inlaid with silvery runes and ornamented with twisting gold accents. There were large cracks lacing through the shiny dark surface. Occasionally, the orb would shudder, filling the room with that bone-chilling rumble, an unnatural green light glimmering from within, flecking sickly embers as the cracks grew in size and number.

Axl could feel his insides twist. The orb emitted such a feeling of dread, such a profound sense of wrong with each pulse. He could hear his own voice mocking him in the back of his mind in a way that he couldn’t shake. It repeated the thought in his head from the moment he entered, but this time, added a much more profound accusation.

This is it. The beginning of the end. AND YOU HELPED MAKE IT POSSIBLE.

He growled at the thought. He had no idea! Yes, he was stupid to trust this man, but… he had his own reasons for going through with this! Either would have done it without the help… eventually, at least.

Strangely, Aura seemed to be having those same initial thoughts. She took a step back, holding the sides of her head as she quietly whispered to herself, “No… no… I… I never agreed to… I was just...” Even her hornets seemed worried.

Axl groaned at the continuing faint nagging of those accusatory thoughts as he looked around at the other artifacts. Next to the orb was another conspicuous item. At first it appeared to be another of those strange, spiky altars, only much narrower, more like a pedestal than a plinth. Floating between those teeth was a single eye.

Axl leaned close to get a better look, then recoiled, “O-oh…”

It was just a normal, healthy human eye, somehow still dripping with fresh blood. After all the oversized demon eyes swarming amongst the zombies at night, the colossal eyes with teeth, and even the floating, rotting gas-bag eyes they’d seen so frequently in the corruption, to see a regular eye with a clean white sclera and light brown iris was by and large the most upsetting thing they could have expected to stumble upon.

“O-oh my gods…” Aura put her hand over her mouth, “Do you think that’s-?”

“That… must be how he got the scar…” Axl looked like he was going to be sick, which was really something considering the things he’d seen and done, “But if his eye is here, then what-”

Suddenly, the eye turned sharply in place to look right at them, causing them both to jump.

Almost as if on cue, a wet, crunching sound alerted the two to an approaching figure from down the hall. The poor light only allowed them to see a vague and clearly inhuman shape, lumbering towards them with an awkward gait on four splayed, uneven legs. Its entire body twitched and jerked with each deliberate step. Axl hissed and closed his mask as both drew weapons in preparation for a fight.

The thing was horrific, a twisted bloat of rotten meat that would have been familiar had it been in the shape of floating bags of air or long, burrowing worms. Instead, it had an almost humanoid torso lined with scratching, vestigial insectoid limbs down its sides and emerging from its broad shoulders. The massive, cyclopean eye between a lopsided pair of mandibles on the end of its half-elongated, heavy neck was almost covered up by the sickeningly familiar, pointed exoskeleton that barely managed to contain the creature’s twisted body.

That exoskeleton was Ren’s armor.

“I knew you’d come,” it rasped, voice completely gone and replaced by a painfully grating hiss, “It only took you this long… all the better” it extended its neck, the sharp teeth in its mouth bared in a threatening smile, “I doubt you would have helped me if you knew about all this sooner.”

Axl was at a complete loss for words, his silence the only thing that could express what his masked face could not. Aura was much less stunned as she stepped forward, sword drawn and pointing towards the creature before them, “What the Hell is- what have you been hiding from us?!”

“Why ask, when you can behold?” The creature turned to gesture at the cracked orb. The glow within it flared up as it shook again, vibrating the very air in the room, “Behold the new gods of this world!” The monster turned its hand upward, bony claws curling up slowly before clenching into a tight fist, “Sleeping for so long, power locked away… but one managed to awaken.” It opened its hand, keeping the other conspicuously closed as it held them upward in front of it, “Managed to call out. And now, with our help,” it boomed a sick laugh as it pointed, “with your help... they all have enough power to break free!”

At that point, Axl definitely felt something wrong about the way Ren added ‘with your help.’ It was almost like his own mind had shouted the words in unison. Why would he think that? He glanced at Aura, who seemed to have the same doubts, quietly muttering “No… no…” to herself over and over.

Without warning, the orb burst, its physical shell disintegrating almost entirely in the emerging green flames, leaving behind a glowing green sphere which hovered in its place. It felt like it was staring at them. Staring into their souls.

Ren let out a bellowing laugh, opening his other hand. In the oversized, mutated palm was his icy mirror, looking so small and delicate by comparison. He cried out triumphantly, “Why cling to the mirror’s unfulfilled promise when darkness holds the single truth!” The younger adventurers could swear they heard their own voices in their heads echoing those words.

Holding the mirror above his head in both hands, Ren shattered it.

The moment it broke, shards hitting the ground like a chorus of tiny bells, the green sphere flared up, launching itself upward and into the ceiling, boring its way towards the surface. The world began to shake. First a low rumble, but quickly escalating to such a degree that everything fell from the shelves and the house itself began to crumble and tear apart at the seams. The hidden bunker split open to reveal newly-cracked chasms to the surface.

To make matters worse, massive worms could be seen pushing the ground apart, splitting it further. They were far larger than even the Eater of Worlds, perhaps even twice the girth, and lined with bony, centipede-like legs that propelled it through the corrupt stone and dirt. High above, silhouetted against the sickly sky, was the shadow of something that dwarfed any creature they’d seen.

Unfortunately, the only safe way out of the crumbling earth was up towards it. Or so they thought, minds racing in panic and not stopping to consider the irrationality of those thoughts.

Get to the surface. It’s the only way. Climb. CLIMB.

Not paying any heed to the cackling Ren, Axl and Aura didn’t even realize that they could have simply pulled out their mirrors to escape, instead opting for their grappling hooks. They ascended just in time for the floor to fall out from under them, dropping the mural and everything else but the strange, floating altar into an abyssal trench with no visible bottom. Axl looked down, flipping his visor up just long enough to make sure his impacted visibility from it wasn’t playing tricks on him. He paled, looking mortified as he quickly put the mask back down again and started climbing.

“It’s weird to see you afraid of dying for once since-” Aura didn’t think much before she said it. The threat of the moment drew it out of her without guilt as she followed closely behind, far more mobile with her multiple, longer vine hooks.

“No!” he shot back, cutting her off, his initial annoyance immediately replaced by the honest panic of the situation, “I’m not afraid of dying here… I’m afraid of being buried alive in this stuff, or falling into that pit!” As they grappled ever higher, he added, “Who knows how long we’d be stuck…” He shuddered at the thought, “I… I don’t want to end up like Ren!”

If she had any doubts of how dire things were, Aura certainly lost them with that statement. Seeing what someone with Ren’s constitution had become after so much willful exposure to the atmosphere of the twisted landscape… she didn’t want to think about being trapped in it. She didn’t want to think about being trapped at all. The mirror didn’t even come to mind. All that did was a single thought.

CLIMB.

They did so. The giant worms around them continued to swirl and burrow endlessly. The only blessing was that the endless movement was consistent, with no sudden worm heads to emerge and attack them to dislodge them from their path. It was easy enough to plan a route around them, even with the crumbling rock. Eventually, they made it to the surface.

It put them face to face with an abomination.

At the end of the seemingly infinite worm body was a vaguely humanoid shape, albeit split in half down the middle into a massive vertical jaw filled with sharp teeth. Its heavy, muscular arms ended with snapping, slavering worm mouths for hands. Giant eyes set into it shoulders, as well as one in the middle of its chest. Glowing green tendrils writhed from all of its mouths. For all the awe it inspired, they almost didn’t notice that Ren had crawled up from the pit after them, standing at the ‘foot’ of the titan. At least, not until he spoke.

“Isn’t it glorious!?” Ren gestured upward, reveling. Their thoughts echoed with their own voices as he continued to ramble, intrusive words that continued to gnaw at both their minds. As they beheld the massive, terrible beast before them, their thoughts were replaced by an all-consuming despair.

Why fight it? The darkness IS the only true path forward. It’s the only way.

Axl shook his head. There was no way he was thinking that, was he? How was that possible, if the creature that was Ren was also saying those words out loud? Was he saying those words out loud? It was becoming very difficult to tell. Axl held the sides of his head, grinding his teeth together. He glanced over at Aura, whose face was etched with the signs of an identical inner struggle. Yet the thoughts wouldn’t abate.

The darkness will devour everything, so why fight it and suffer?

WHY NOT JOIN IT AND REJOICE?

Aura suddenly screeched, her voice the most piercing Axl had ever heard, “Get out of my head! GET OUT! GET OUT!!” For the first time since he’d met her, Aura’s eyes welled with tears, if faintly, “We can’t stay… we can’t stay..!” She repeated to herself, over and over as she clutched the sides of her head, “The jungle is safe… The jungle is safe! The jungle is safe!!”

Without warning, she turned and ran, tears streaming from wide eyes. Ran, off in the direction of the jungle whose protection she was promised, past the blue fields and pink rivers of the newly blossomed hallowed ground.

“No-! Aura-!” Axl whirled, voice so panicked it began to crack, ”NO! I CAN’T DO THIS BY MYSELF-!” But it was too late. She couldn’t hear his desperation for her own, and soon Axl was left to slowly turn, to look up at the behemoth he was now facing down alone, and the bitter, choking laughter of its servant. His heart dropped into his stomach and he would have sworn he could feel it burning.

His mind screamed at the hopelessness of it all. He turned to run after her.

This is it. The pointless culmination of so much hard work.

“...No..,” he tried to fend off those intrusive thoughts. After all that work, there had to be something left. He barely got a few strides before he slowed.

DARKNESS IS ALL THAT IS LEFT. ALL THAT IS LEFT. ALL THAT IS LEFT IS TO JOIN IT.

That snapped him out of it. There was NO way he was thinking that himself! He punched himself in the side of his head hard enough to jar his vision for a moment before he looked up at the enormous abomination, and its new, equally twisted servant. It all made sense. The way those thoughts echoed in his head while Ren - or what was left of him - spoke.

That monster above them… The projection of will… That was its way of communicating! It used it to overwhelm weak and weary hearts! Was that how it got Ren in the first place? By making the lost man believe that darkness was the only course of action when all other hope was lost? Axl cringed through the mental turmoil, using all of his effort to push those thoughts from his mind, “No… not this time,” he hissed to himself, “I can’t give up… not now.”

Ren laughed, that same horrible choking noise from before, “I’ll give you this, you may be just as big a nutjob as I’ve given you credit for, but as far as nuts go you’re a tough one to crack.” He laughed again, “Still, what good do you think you can do? You already know in your heart; the strongest weapon you have was forged by this darkness,” he gestured with his arms to everything around them, “You accepted that gift so readily before…” The twisted servant narrowed its eye sinisterly, “...why not now?”

Axl looked down at the ground with a single, dedicated sigh. He reached into his bag and held up the dark sword that was gifted to him by the beast before him… and threw it aside, “I’m done fighting darkness with darkness,” he mumbled, instead brandishing the hammer he’d retrieved from the wall. Compared to the weapon he’d just discarded, it seemed almost laughably small, but its bright glow seemed all the more a beacon in the shadows for it.

The twisted creature chortled grimly, “Nice hammer,” it mocked, long neck undulating in an uncomfortable manner, “I’m sure it’ll be great for putting the final nails in the coffin you’ll so desperately desire but never get to use!”

Axl growled, “What happened to you?!” He shouted. It almost sounded like there would be tears in his eyes as well if he weren’t feeling so furious all of a sudden, “You weren’t the greatest guy, but I thought even you had a heart somewhere in there! I didn’t… didn’t think you’d stoop this low!” He didn’t expect any plea to shreds of humanity to work, but it was all he had to buy time.

The laugh he got in return was as ugly as the monster that emitted it, “Our new god saw fit to let me maintain any petty human sentiments as long as I continued to work towards our goal.” Gesturing with its arms and other, extraneous insectoid limbs at itself, it seemed to delight in the twisted new form, “Now that we’ve won, it has deemed them of no further use and removed them!”

“Well, I refuse to let that stand!” Axl tore his attention from the mutant that was Ren, turning instead towards the massive monster, ”And if that’s the source, I know my new goal… destroying it!” He pointed the hammer up at the abomination, determination shining behind his glasses, beneath the mask of his hell-forged armor, “Regardless how long it takes… Even if you’re beyond saving, I can’t let this thing claim any more souls! I can’t stand by and do nothing!”

YOU WOULDN’T BE SO STUPID.

The thought in his head was not his. Axl knew it now. It was the towering creature he stood before, brandishing his hammer with a challenging shout, “Try me!”

The massive beast let out an unholy sound that wasn’t quite a shriek and not quite a roar, and not quite truly a sound so much as an emanation felt rather than heard. Taking the challenge to heart, it lunged down with one of its large, muscular arms, the mandibles in place of its hands open to grasp the puny armored human.

Trying to think quickly, Axl pulled his grappling hook out and latched onto a mandible on the approaching hand-maw, launching himself into the air. He retracted the chain and released it, letting his momentum rocket him towards the creature’s central eye, hammer poised to strike it.

The move was a lot cooler in Axl’s head, and for a moment he was proud of the smoothness of its execution. However, as soon as he got within arms’ reach of the monster, it responded as any large monster with half a brain and working arms would; by unceremoniously plucking the tiny adventurer right out of the air with its other hand. The mandibles jolted his momentum to a dizzying halt, before the tendrils wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. The ornate hammer fell to the ground far below with a useless clatter.

Held still and close as he was, Axl had time to really not appreciate how atrocious this monster was. It was only a touch less repulsive than the flesh wall in the underworld that had apparently released the power to wake it up. Its flesh up close looked like someone had taken the floating rot-bags and worms and thrown them in a blender, shaping the results into whatever this thing was that shouldn’t have been. The eyes in its shoulders reminded him very much of the very largest that had attacked on so many occasions. He half expected them to be able to open into toothy maws as well. And… were those tongues coming out of its wrists and wrapped around him? Axl didn’t want to think about it. He was just content that his hell-forged armor insulated him from having to touch them, and vaguely hoped from the faint sizzling noise that it was burning the creature to do so.

Tongues or not, the tendrils wound tighter, metal shrieking as that armor began to slowly compact under the pressure. Axl choked out an unbecoming squeak and struggled vainly. The abomination’s booming ‘voice’ echoed in his head, still very unsettlingly sounding like his own. Despite that, all pretense of trying to pass for its victim’s own thoughts had vanished as the beast addressed its own opinions directly.

WHAT A PITIFUL CREATURE. WHAT PURPOSE IS THERE TO ITS CONTINUED EXISTENCE?

It tightened its grip more.

JUST TO DIE LIKE A WORM IF IT WON’T WORSHIP LIKE ONE.

“S-so what!? I’ll just-! I-it’s not l-like I can-!” Axl realized what he was saying, and in what circumstance he was saying it, and immediately shut up. As awesome a boast he could make about never giving up until this foe was defeated, as much like some kind of implacable anime protagonist as it would make him sound, he wasn’t exactly in a position that could end anything but horribly if death was the best apparent option.

The monster didn’t miss the slip, but in a surprise gesture chose to lessen its grip, eyes narrowing. The permeating voice lowered, in tone if not volume.

IT COULD VERY WELL BE GRANTED A PERMANENT DEATH IF SO DESIRED.

Axl looked up, mask hiding the surprise on his face. It was a surprisingly tempting offer...but it couldn’t be true. Was that the promise this thing made to Ren? In a way, it had done exactly that; the human who was Ren was definitely dead now.

That was not the way Axl wanted to go if that was the case.

BUT NO.

It was as if the creature recognized the adventurer’s near-immediate internal rejection of the offer. The feeling of all three eyes focusing on the tiny human only amplified the sudden, gut-wrenching dread as the monster’s bizarre mouth pulled into what possibly was meant to represent a most maniacal, cruel smile. The eyes widened, even more so than seemed possible by the already unnatural standards of the creature’s form, directing all of its malice to a single point between them.

MAKING WORMS LIKE YOU SUFFER IS FAR MORE ENTERTAINING.

Axl barely had a chance to catch his breath when the pressure released, letting him drop for only a moment before the monster grabbed one arm with the tendrils of one of its jawlike-hands, then the other, pulling them tight with a sickening pop, as a cruel child might hold the wings of a fly. His arms felt like they’d tear right out of their sockets, but he couldn’t even muster the energy to cry out. He could only stare at the creature in horror, not quite in the eyes for their distance apart, but rather at its gnashing, v-shaped maw.

The massive beast seemed to take a deep breath, before exhaling a concentrated jet of sickly green fire at the suspended adventurer, engulfing him. Even the hellstone-obsidian alloy of his armor did nothing to deflect it in any way.

After everything he had been through - being digested, sliced to pieces, incinerated in lava, and hundreds of other novel ways to die painfully, including by his own hand - this was somehow worse than it all. The green flame didn’t just hurt physically. He’d become accustomed to that kind of pain; even welcomed it to a certain degree. However, he wasn’t prepared for how it burned within.

Like it was fueling itself on his mind and his soul, threatening to devour not just his body, but every positive emotion, thought, and memory he ever had.

Axl barely noticed when the creature let him drop, screaming, to the ground. He struck the stone writhing as the fire continued to cling. Even after the flames themselves flickered out, he could still feel it eating at him, weaving through his veins and rasping at his bones. He whined and wheezed, clawing at his helmet in an effort to pry it off, to vent the burning and let it die in the stagnant air, but his gauntlets merely slipped off the metal in his desperation. Finally, he managed to tear it free, gasping for breath as it clattered across the dark stone.

I’LL LEAVE THIS FOOL AND ITS ILL-ADVISED COURAGE TO YOU.

The gigantic abomination‘s massive eyes looked down to its subject, before directing off in the direction of the released spirits of light and blood.

I’VE OTHER MATTERS TO ATTEND TO.

Axl couldn’t see how the massive being departed, but he could feel the disappearance of the rumbling of its serpentine form in the ground, as well as the absence of its oppressive aura. How something so large could vanish so quickly was the least of his worries.

Unable to shrug off the ceaseless searing pain under his skin, but unwilling to give up, Axl tried once, twice to push himself off the ground, succeeding on the third try, body quaking as he coughed up flecks of blood. When the tears cleared enough from his eyes to look up, it was into the glowing barrel of Ren’s hell-infused handgun. “You talk a big game, kid,” somehow, Ren’s monstrous face contorted into a sneering grin, “It seems my lord would have me kill you. Over, and over again, until you see reason. A pointless endeavor, naturally,” he chuckled darkly, eye narrowing cruelly, “...considering you’d probably like that.”

It was very disconnecting to see such a bizarre beast holding a weapon that looked so modern - and while talking about reason, no less - that Axl didn’t really internalize the slight. Moreover, something else had caught Axl’s attention; near the foot of where the abomination had vanished, there was a strange glimmer. His eyes drifted to it, fading in and out of focus with his wavering consciousness, trying to make it out.

Ren’s ‘smirk’ darkened slightly, mixing with a scowl. He knew this man was a fool, but this level of inattention was downright insulting. His grin returned, though, as he shifted the gun to one side in a quick motion and pulled the trigger, shooting out his prey’s already nearly-dislocated left shoulder, “Of course, I could draw each death out if that’s what you really want.”

Axl, nerves still overwhelmed to feel much other than burning, just gurgled weakly as he collapsed further, clutching his arm. But he wasn’t going to resign to death. Not this time. He recognized that glimmer. A mirror, unlike the one he’d found in the caves. A mirror with an adorned golden frame.

The same one that brought him to this world.

Axl shook, coughing a few more times, then craned his neck up to glare Ren right in his bloated single eye, “You could... but I don’t think... you’d have the GUS to.”

Ren froze. As the statement sunk in, he snarled, eye going wide in a rage, “YOU-”

With a new sense of purpose, Axl reached out and took hold of the holy hammer where it had fallen. It wasn’t strong, but it would have to be enough. Ren’s distraction denied him the time to respond to that hammer being brought down on one of his misshapen knees, shattering it and sending him to the ground with a piercing, unholy wail.

That distraction was all Axl needed. Leaving the hammer there, he forced himself to his feet, staggering and tripping over himself to make his way to that mirror, even if it was the last thing he did. His body screamed at him. He didn’t care. He couldn’t risk it being his last chance.

“DON’T RUN AWAY FROM ME,” the corrupted human screeched as he whirled about in fury, twisting at the waist unnaturally. He brought up the gun and released two more shots. Both pierced Axl in the back, causing the fleeing man to gasp, collapsing on top of the mirror. As his consciousness failed, he grabbed the artifact in both hands and stared into it with every fiber of determination he could muster. He could barely see for all his pain, not even his own face. He didn’t care what the background in the reflection was… so long as it was anywhere but here.

His vision faded to white.

---

Axl awoke to the sound of chirping birds.

He sat up, slowly. His skin tingled, as if with the remnants of the cursed fire’s burn, but for the most part he felt strangely numb. As his vision readjusted, he took in his surroundings. Despite how obvious it was, his brain seemed to refuse the initial assessment that he wasn’t indoors, instead sitting in an open shrine, somewhere high up. Very high up. He didn’t remember seeing anything of the sort when they’d ascended to the sky islands looking for treasure. Clouds drifted lazily past, and he could hear a breeze, but could only barely feel it against his face.

‘Am I actually dead this time?’ he thought to himself as he looked down. He was no longer wearing armor, and it surprised him to see that he was wearing the clothes he had arrived in, but with one crucial difference.

Beneath the ironic shirt and baggy shorts, he was completely bandaged up. Only his face was left bare… mostly. Looking at his arms and his legs, Axl felt somewhat silly, like a mummy, but at the same time, a sinking dread settled in his stomach. With great hesitation, he pulled the bandages on his wrist aside, only to recoil.

The skin underneath was warped and charred. It hardly seemed like human skin at all, looking more like plastic pulled from a fire. Axl let out a long, withdrawn sigh, with barely the energy to take another breath as he slowly closed his eyes, letting the bandages go and covering his face with his palm.

“Your resolve is commendable,” a lilting voice drifted from out of view, startling Axl out of his stupor. He turned to see… something.

Whatever it was, ‘ghost’ seemed like the most fitting term, almost to the point of the absurdity of looking like it were made from sheets draped over some uncannily tall form. The only thing shattering that silly thought was the fact that those sheets were virtually transparent, revealing nothing underneath. Instead of a face, the figure had a mask.

A mask made from a gold-framed oval mirror.

Axl stared at it in disbelief, only to see his reflection in its surface, cringing. His face certainly could have been in worse condition, perhaps saved by getting his helmet off in time, but the disfigurement was still significant. He looked away, grimly.

“Axl C. Eyre,” the being spoke again, ethereal voice carrying a profound serenity.

Axl had never been referred in such a way before, and something about it caught his breath. He turned slowly towards the mirror spirit, taking care not to look at his reflection.

It bowed, slowly and respectfully.

“We have much to discuss…”

#the wall of text has awoken #long post #fell story #*sits back with a mug of tea*#congratulations you just read an 87-page setup for a pun that one person openly figured out in about 4 #well... a little over 4

13 notes · View notes

fangirl--of-everything · 7 years

Text

The One With The Dragon (Jeff Atkins x reader)

word count: ~3,410

Request: anon- this sounds weird but I love dragons and I love jeff so could you write something about jeff and dragons? love your writing btw :))

Warnings: mild bullying, badass reader, Jeff being perfect in every way, descriptions of art even though I know absolutely nothing about it, Bryce is in it really briefly, I think that’s it.

A/N. This fic has become notorious in my friend group as The Dragon Fic. My girlfriends are very invested in this one, and are really disappointed that Jeff doesn’t turn into a dragon at the end and fly away. I’m sorry to disappoint guys. Despite the lack of Dragon-Jeff, please try to enjoy :)

The landscape covering the canvas was impressive by anyone’s standards; a great, sweeping expanse of land, on which the bodies of fallen soldiers were scattered. Smoke curled from the dying fires, and the sun cast a hazy glow upon the scene. The colours shone with vivid brilliance, the image so clear, so real that the scent of smoke clung to it. Still, it was the centrepiece that dazzled the eye. A dragon, pure silver and shining, it’s long neck arched as it spread it’s mighty wings, roaring into the sky a jet of blue flames.

The beast was massive, forty feet tall, its scales serrated and rippling. The colour grew softer as the eye moved towards the great snake’s belly. There the scales were rounded and almost soft. It’s wing span was almost double it’s height, and their great shadow almost covered the canvas. It’s teeth, long and black, shone like Onyx, and it’s one eye was gold, molten and burning. In the space where it’s other eye used to rest was a jagged scar leading to a gaping wound, blue light burning from deep within the socket. It was a masterpiece.

Of course no one at Liberty High appreciated it. It hung in the art room, the work of nine months and too many hours, and all (y/n) got as recognition of it’s creation was ridicule.

She tried not to let it bother her, the way her classmates jeered, calling her the dragon girl or fantasy freak, but their words hurt. Still, she surrounded herself with other artists, appreciating each other’s work and painting for each other shields against the sharp swords of their classmates’ tongues. She let the cruel words of the jocks and the cheerleaders roll off her own set of scales, which she wore in the form of metal rings and a large dragon tattoo that twined around the entire length of her left arm. It’s tail stretched across her chest to curl around her heart, and it’s long body spiralled down her arm. It’s open mouth was positioned so that when she drew or painted her creations poured from it’s mouth like artistic fire. She was extremely proud of it, even though no one else appreciated it’s beauty. The same way they failed to appreciate her other dragons.

Today was the day she got to bring her masterpiece to it’s new home. The school arts department was running an exhibition across town, where arts students could get scholarships and showcase the pieces they had been working on all year. Everything else she had was already set up, and all she needed now was for Skye to help her get this beautiful monstrosity into one of the volunteer cars and she would be good to go.

She had waited to go last because the piece was so big, and the rest of her work was already set up. Her friends were all already there, making sure their exhibits and hers were ready for tomorrow’s grand opening, and Skye was on her way to give (y/n) a hand. Or at least she was supposed to be, but she was about ten minutes late.

“Hey, what’s taking so-- Holy fuck.”

(Y/n) jumped, spinning around to see Jeff Atkins standing in the doorway of the art room, staring at her painting with wide eyes. She tensed, waiting for the criticism. The jocks were never very happy to have to share the spotlight with arts kids. But, much to her surprise, he just looked at her painting in awe.

“That’s fucking awesome! Did you seriously paint that?” He asked, stepping into the room.

She shrugged. “Well I didn’t trace it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He chuckled, shooting her a friendly smile. “Yeah I guess you didn’t did you? Holy crap, this thing is amazing.” He reached forward, eyes shining.

“No don’t!” (Y/n) jumped forward, pulling his hand down before he could touch the canvas. He looked at her, dark eyebrows raised, and she let go of his wrist, running her tattooed hand through her hair. “Just- just don’t touch it okay? It took nine months to get it to look this good.”

“Alright.” he nodded, taking a healthy step back. “It’s really good though. Like, I knew you were talented, but this,” he gestured to the painting, “this is awesome.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, trying to apologize for grabbing him without actually apologizing. “I’m pretty proud of it. It’s definitely the best thing I’ve ever painted.”

“Well yeah, I mean look at it it’s fucking fantastic.” Jeff looked at her then, and his face shifted slightly. She tensed, waiting for the cruel words or mean glare, but he just cleared his throat and ran his hand through the fluffy top of his hair. “Uh, Skye got caught up at the exhibit. Something with a naked woman and her buttons, I don’t,” he shrugged. “But anyway, I’m supposed to help you get this into the truck and then take you both to the exhibit.”

(Y/n) bit the inside of her cheek nervously. This painting was her life, and she didn’t trust just anyone to touch it. Skye she trusted not to damage it, but Jeff? True, he was one of the nicest seniors at Liberty High, and a jock to boot, but considering the rest of the male population that wasn’t really saying much. And she’d had trouble with older boys and her art before.

Jeff studied her, seeing the hesitation flash across her face, and tried to be reassuring. “Look, I may not know a lot about art, but I’m strong.” He flexed playfully, making his henley strain against his arms and chest, and (y/n) relaxed slightly, chuckling. He considered that a success. “If you want to wrap this up or whatever I can carry it, and you can get the doors. Sound good?”

She nodded, this time biting her cheek to keep in a smile. She was really pretty when she smiled. He had always thought she was pretty even when she wasn’t smiling, but when she was… wow. if he were in any way artistically inclined he would be tempted to draw a smile like that.

“What?” He asked, sensing that she was laughing at him. He was used to the reaction from when he attempted to participate in history class. “What did I say?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s just that this painting is almost as big as you and there’s no way you’re gonna be able to carry it by yourself.”

“Hey!” He protested, clutching his chest in fake offense. “I am wounded (y/n). Do you not trust me with your dragon?”

“I don’t trust anyone with my dragon. This thing is my baby. We’re gonna put it on a trolley.”

He opened his mouth to protest, because what was the point of spending seven hours a week in the gym if he couldn’t even lift a piece of paper and some wood, but she waved away his protest. “Oh hold on to your male pride. You can still push the trolley.”

He laughed, surprised by her snark. She was usually more quiet, although to be fair that may have been because he always saw her with Skye, who was rather loud. “Alright.” He surrendered. “How do you wanna do this?”

She explained how to wrap the canvas, and they got it covered. It pleased Jeff to notice that he had to do most of the work, because her arms weren’t long enough. The canvas was massive, as wide as (y/n) was tall, and half as tall as that as well. The two of them were able to get it onto a massive trolley to roll it out of the school, which (y/n) gestured for Jeff to steer while she went to get the first door.

“So,” he asked, grunting as the heavy cart resisted his first attempt to push it. She smirked at him, biting her cheek to keep from laughing, and he rolled his eyes. “So, why the dragon?”

Her smile fell immediately. “Haha, very funny.”

“No I’m serious.” He said, watching her face close off. “I know you like dragons, everyone knows that, but I was wondering why. I’m not judging, I swear, I think they’re really cool too.”

She eyed him suspiciously as he pushed the heavy cart through the first door. Finally she sighed, running her tattoo wrapped hand through her hair again. “I just got really into them when I was a kid. Some people like Star Wars, or Lord of the Rings or superheroes, I like dragons.” She looked up to see Jeff watching her expectantly, waiting for more. She sighed. “My dad is a writer. He’s working on this fantasy book, and so I draw dragons for him and he uses the illustrations in his novel. Every couple months when I go visit him I bring him a big bundle of drawing and he shows me what he’s written since I was there last.” It was a nice story, but she spat the words at him quickly, keeping her eyes on the corner of the trolley.

“That’s really cool.” Jeff nodded, looking at her. “My dad is the reason I got into baseball.”

She smiled slowly as she realized he wasn’t about to make fun of her. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, when I was little my dad brought me to the batting cages for the first time. I cried when he threw the ball at me.”

She laughed, the sound warm. Jeff tried not to move closer to her, to avoid ramming into her with the massive trolley. “My dad’s books actually come from these bedtime stories he used to tell me. I think he really started getting into dragons when I did, and it became something we did together you know?”

“Yeah.” Jeff nodded again. “My dad’s pretty busy with work, but we try to talk about baseball and watch the games together whenever we get the chance.”

“That’s nice.” She nodded, moving ahead to open the main doors. “I love when I get to spend time with my dad, we--”

“Hey Atkins!”

Both of them looked up, jumping in surprise as Bryce and Monty running over, each of them throwing an arm around his shoulders. (Y/n) tensed immediately, eyes widening as Monty shoved Jeff playfully. The trolley rocked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. If Monty shoved Jeff again she was gonna punch his stupid pretty face. Jeff laughed as Bryce pounded on his back, but then his eyes fell on (y/n). Her hands were clenched into fists, and she was white as the guys roughhoused around her painting. He shoved Bryce off, then twisted so he could push Monty away from the trolley.

“What are you guys doing here?” Jeff asked, shifting subtly to position himself in front of the painting. He looked over his shoulder at her, flashing her a reassuring smile. She breathed a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing, and his stomach flipped.

“We came to spring you from this stupid art shit man.” Monty laughed. “What the fuck’s taking so long anyway?”

Jeff looked over his shoulder again, to see (y/n) tense, arms crossed. She was clearly preparing for a confrontation. And it looked like she was going to get one, the way Monty’s eyes widened as he looked at her. “Oh, hey you’re hanging with the fantasy freak?”

She laughed sarcastically. “Oh wow, you can string together words that start with same letter. You’re so smart Monty.”

Jeff snorted, but it died quickly when Monty sneered. “Well at least I’m not a psycho obsessed with lizards.”

“Aha.” she rolled her weight onto her back leg and arched an eyebrow. “You were pretty obsessed with this lizard at Kate’s party last year. I’m pretty sure I remember you saying something about how cool it would be to have my dragon’s jaws wrapped around your--”

“Shut up!” Monty snapped, face going red with quick anger. “You’re such a stupid fucking bitch you know that?”

She shrugged, narrowing her eyes. “Hey, maybe I am. But I didn’t try to get the dragon freak to roar for me when I--”

“Shut the fuck up!” Monty lunged forward, and Jeff got in his way, puffing his chest and making himself bigger. He knew what Monty’s anger could be like, and as badass as (y/n)’s tattoo was, he was pretty sure an ink dragon wasn't gonna do much against Monty’s fist.

“Hey man!” Jeff shoved Monty back forcefully. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Monty lunged forward again. “That bitch doesn’t know what she’s--”

“Hey!” Jeff pushed him again, harder this time, and Bryce grabbed the other boy’s arm to keep him back. “You need to back off dude. Right now.”

“Why?” Monty sneered. “Because the dragon freak’s worried I’ll fuck up her doodles?” He shoved Jeff, and while the older boy was expecting it he still stumbled back a step. The trolley rolled back and her precious painting wobbled.

“Alright that’s it you fucking cock!” (Y/n) shouted.

She moved fast, and before Jeff could stop her Monty was stumbling back, his nose bloody from her fist slamming into his face. For a beat everything was silent, Jeff and Bryce staring at each other, mouths hanging open. Then everything went to shit. Monty lunged forward, grabbing for (y/n), and she punched him again. Jeff hooked an arm around (y/n)’s waist, hoisting her up and dragging her back kicking and struggling against his grip. Bryce forced Monty into a headlock to keep him from jumping forward. Jeff dragged (y/n) a safe distance away, taking an elbow to the side of the head before she was calm enough to be set back on her feet. Even still, he kept one arm around her waist, the other around her chest.

“You stupid fucking--” Monty growled, spitting blood and trying to throw Bryce off of him.

Jeff stumbled forward a step when (y/n) bucked against him, and he had to dig in his feet to keep her from lunging for Monty’s throat. “Monty back the hell off.” Jeff said through his teeth. He sucked in a breath as she elbowed him in the gut. “Fuck (y/n) stop!”

“Seriously bro.” Bryce tried to tug Monty back a step, but the smaller boy resisted. “Dude she’s not worth it.”

Monty was still pissed, shaking in Bryce’s grip. “But she’s a--”

“Back. The. Fuck. Off.” Jeff growled, narrowing his eyes. He was officially done with Monty talking shit. “Or Bryce is gonna help me hold you down while she beats the shit out of you.”

Monty looked like he was seriously considering punching a woman, which of course would mean Jeff would have to kill him, but Bryce was able to say something to him that made him calm down just enough that the bigger boy could drag him away. He shot Jeff a sympathetic look over his shoulder, and Jeff bristled, eyes narrowing as his arms tightened around (y/n). He kept a firm grip on her until the two baseball players were out of sight. When he finally let her go she spun out of his grip, eyes immediately landing on her painting, which was intact. Thank god.

(Y/n)’s eyes widened as it set in that she had just punched Montgomery in the face. She looked down at her fist, her knuckles bloody and already bruising. “Ow.”

Jeff laughed sharply. “Yeah ow. You just punched a guy with crazy anger management issues in the face. What the hell were you thinking?”

“He almost destroyed nine months of work!” Her voice was shrill, and she crossed her arms defensively.

“If me and Bryce hadn’t been here he could have destroyed your face.” Jeff shot back, realizing how stupid that sounded as soon as the words left his mouth. (Y/n)’s eyebrows rose, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter.

“I’m serious.” Jeff protested, taking a step closer. “What if me and Bryce weren’t here? Monty could have really hurt you.”

“I know.” She nodded, still giggling. “Because- because I punched Monty in the face.” She snorted, shoulders shaking with the force of her laughter. “I actually- I punched that jackass in the face.” She doubled over, wiping her eyes. “Oh my god what the fuck was I thinking?”

Jeff tried to resist, but her laughter was contagious, and he found himself chuckling too. “It was pretty badass.” He agreed, snickering as he thought about the look on Monty’s face right after she broke his nose. “It was pretty fucking awesome actually.”

“Yeah it was!” She grinned, holding up her hand. She winced as she flexed her fingers, looking down at the bruises along her knuckles.

“What?” Jeff asked, still chuckling.

She shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t realize it was gonna hurt so much.”

Their eyes met, and they both started laughing again, laughing so hard they had to sit down on the curb until the fit subsided. As soon as one of them would calm down enough to look at the other, their eyes would meet and the laughter would start again. (Y/n) wiped her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder, and he struggled to catch his breath.

“The look on his face--” She snorted.

“And did you see Bryce?” Jeff asked, wiping his eyes.

The laughter began again, (y/n) almost hiccuping. “Oh my god I’m gonna pee!”

Eventually Jeff was in enough control to get back to his feet, and he loaded the painting into the back of the truck while (y/n) watched, still giggling softly. He looked at her, breath hitching as he tried to hold back more laughter, and he held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get your art to the exhibit and then put some ice on that hand.”

She watched him cautiously, eyes flicking between his hand and his face. “What are you doing?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Helping you up?”

She blinked at him. “Um, okay.” She grabbed his hand, letting him pull her to her feet.

“Alright, let me look at your knuckles.” Jeff held out his other hand, and she gave him her left hand, wincing as she spread her fingers. He was able to see the bruising around her first two knuckles, disappearing beneath the dark ink of her tattoo, but considering she had just punched a guy it wasn’t too bad.

“You’re pretty lucky, I don’t think you broke anything.” He said, running his thumb over her knuckles.

She scoffed, and he looked up to see her rolling her eyes. “Of course I didn’t break anything. I know how to punch.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” He huffed sarcastically. “I didn’t think you made a habit of punching guys in the face.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. It hurts like a bitch but I’m sure it’s fine.”

He nodded. “We should probably ice it, but it’ll be fine.”

“We?” She asked, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah.” Jeff nodded. “I’m sorry but I can’t trust you not to punch another guy if I leave you alone. So we’re gonna drop off your stuff, and then we’re going to go to Licks and ice your hand, and you’re gonna tell me more about this awesome tattoo.” He slid his thumb up her wrist along the dark ink.

She blinked at him in surprise, eyebrows drawing together as she looked at him. “You want to go get ice cream with me?”

He nodded. “Of course I do. You punched Monty in the face, I gotta know how you did it. I've been wanted to punch him for years. Plus,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I think you’re kinda cool.”

Her mouth hung open, and he laughed softly, taking her sore hand in his gently. “Come on dragon girl, let’s go.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He looked down to see her looking at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. He hadn’t realized that he’d said it, and he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in apology. “I’m sorry (yn). But if it makes you feel any better, I really do think dragons are awesome.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you do. I’m onto you Atkins, I know you’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll share my ice cream with you.”

“Damn!” He laughed. “You’re right, you caught me.”

“Yeah I did.” She nodded, smiling knowingly. “But you opened the floodgates, so now you’re gonna spend the entire date listening to me talk about my dad’s book.”

“Sounds good,” Jeff grinned. He was totally gonna kiss her later. Dragons were fucking awesome, he’d always thought so, and so was she. A fierce, beautiful dragon in girl’s skin. His only regret was that it had taken him so long to realize it.

#jeff atkins #jeff atkins imagine #jeff atkins x reader #brandon larracuente #13 reasons why imagine #13 reasons why fanfiction #13rw #13 reasons why #writing #fanfiction

257 notes · View notes

ryanmeft · 7 years

Text

Spider-Man: Homecoming Movie Review

All Marvel Studios really had to do with their new Spider-Man movie, after a rash of poorly received efforts from Sony, was to get it right. It didn't need to blow anyone's mind; it just needed to be Spider-Man. It is that. It also contains the best supporting cast in a Marvel movie to date, pitch-perfect comedic timing, a fantastic villain, and some genuine twists whether you've read Spider-Man for decades or couldn't tell a Doctor Octopus from a Doctor Robert.

No matter how good a superhero movie is, the part a reviewer always dreads is having to describe the origin story, but I'll give it m...wait, there's no origin story? No, there isn't. It's one of the many touches that make this iteration of the web-slinger fast and funny: it just assumes you already know about Peter Parker's famous origin, and only briefly mentions a bite from a spider in passing. Right to it then: the film begins eight years ago, as a private clean-up crew led by a man named Adrian Toomes (Michael Keaton) is getting set to cart away the remains of the alien battle from the Avengers, a job that is apparently a windfall (2017 minus 2012 equals five, not eight, but it's no big deal). He's stopped by an officious Tyne Daly, who informs him Tony Stark has created a thing called Damage Control to deal with this kind of stuff and that he's out of a job. Realizing he's already got some of that sweet, sweet alien tech sitting in his warehouse, he announces "World's changing, boys. Time we changed too."

Jump ahead eight years, and Peter Parker (Tom Holland) is an energetic, overconfident Spider-Man, getting on the nerves of his handler Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau) and begging his patron Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) for more important assignments than retrieving stolen bicycles and giving directions to old ladies. All of this builds from Captain America: Civil War, though Homecoming is a stand alone story that doesn't deal too directly with the fallout from that movie. Parker's no Avenger. Despite his comics pre-dating those of most of Marvel's characters, he's always been the kid in the room; the movie makes that official by having him be several decades younger than Iron Man or Cap. He's enthusiastic, naive, awkward, and yes, sometimes annoying, because a 15-year-old who is never annoying is like a unicorn. He acts before thinking (as when he heroically stops a man from stealing his own car), confronts crooks without considering the potential collateral damage, dismisses the advice of his mentors and treats it all like a game. He's bullied, too, though not as brutally or physically as in the comics, perhaps because that's a hot topic these days. If you give a put-upon kid a high tech suit that can actually talk to him, the power's likely going to go to his head. Holland gets both the man and the mask right: inside the suit he's a celebrity, outside of it he's too awkward to admit a crush.

He's up against a baddie who is a nice break from the usually larger-than-life villains of Marvel's movies. Toomes builds himself a suit of armor and set of mechanical wings that he can also operate independently of the suit, and becomes The Vulture, though this name is never stated. He doesn't want to rule anything; he simply wants to make a better life for his family and crew. To this end, he pulls off small-scale heists of alien tech, which his men turn into weapons for sale to ambitious crooks. Keaton is vital to the film. As Sam Raimi proved in his first two Spider-Man films, the hero needs a good villain to be effective, someone who is fascinating even when not pulling off acrobatics. Keaton makes Toomes more of an antagonist that should get equal billing. He doesn't kill if he can help it, focuses on crimes that won't get him noticed, and isn't given to grandstanding. Keaton's key moments come late in the film, in which, like any smart super-baddie, he tries to get the hero on his side. Most of the time that goes something like this: "Join me and be totally evil and kill lots of people." Not tempting for most. Toomes's offer is more realistic: join me and get a slice. Donald Glover, in a small-but-effective role that is also a nerd nod, calls him a psychopath, but he doesn't seem like one.

Also vital is the strong supporting cast. I was of the opinion that this was a major weakness in the much-loved Wonder Woman film, and Spider-Man is the opposite of that. Instead of being defined entirely by a single character trait, Parker's classmates, teachers and family seem like real people living real lives. The students naturally get the most attention. Parker's crush Liz (Laura Harrier) is the serious leader of his Academic Decathalon team, while his classmate Michelle (Zendaya) is frankly more interesting, nerdy, aloof and abrasive in that way young, smart people are. It's frankly a major step forward for female roles in superhero movies that she is both a nerd and not the butt of jokes; she puts me in mind of Mae Whitman in the underrated film The Duff. Peter's best friend Ned (Jacob Batalan) is adorably nerdy, more so than Parker, and I'd like to note that no jokes are made at the expense of his size. Marisa Tomei is completely perfect as an updated Aunt May, and rather than shy away from the ridiculous nothingburger that was the controversy about her age, director Watts and his army of screenwriters emphasize it, as waiters and billionaires are not shy about flirting with her.

Other excellent roles that I just don't have the space to go into detail about (I'm so sorry, actor people) go to Tony Revolori, Garcelle Beauvais, Logan-Marshall Green, Bokeem Woodbine, Michael Chernus, Michael Mando, Jennifer Connelly, Kenneth Choi, Hannibal Buress, Angourie Rice and Martin Starr. This alone is a shock. I recall my dread at having to simply list every X-Men character every damn time, and here I am wishing I had space to devote to each of a dozen minor characters.

The film's more down-to-earth plot is reflected in action sequences that mostly feature Spider-Man squaring off against a single baddie, but the two that define the character are when he must try and keep the Staten Island Ferry from splitting in half due to his own arrogance, and the final showdown with the Vulture, which I dare not describe. The reason they're fighting in the first place may be a bit shaky, but that's par for the course. What matters is the last fight feels, like the one in the original Iron Man, true to each combatant. Their respective motivations don't change at the last minute, and neither behaves in ways that haven't been established as part of their personality. The conclusion, and even the obligatory mid-credits scene, reinforce this as one of the better rivalries in superhero flicks. I'll go ahead and toss in a disclaimer here: I'm a big Spider-Man fan for lots of reasons I won't be discussing here. I have enjoyed all of the movies, though unlike the first two, I haven't felt the need to see the last few more than once. I saw this one twice in one day, when I almost never see a movie twice, period. Your mileage, as they say, may vary, and if you loathe the webbed one this won't change your mind. It is absolutely a product of the MCU universe, and trades in the quirk of earlier films for a more grounded story that may not be to everyone's tastes. Those who longed for Edgar Wright to return to Ant-Man may be left cold. For most, though, I think they'll find Jon Watts and his mob of writers have made a true crowd-pleaser. That word gets thrown around a lot to define a movie that is basically sugar (all sweetness, no nutrition), a definition I personally reject. Homecoming may not be prime rib, but it's completely enjoyable the whole way through, sad and surprising at times, with both good guys and bad guys you want to see again. The day I feel the need to get sniffy about a movie like that is the day I ought to hang it up. And yes, that was a reference to Spider-Man's webs. Hey, I never denied my own nerddom. Verdict: Highly Recommended Note: I don’t use stars but here are my possible verdicts. I suppose you could consider each one as adding a star. Must-See Highly Recommended Recommended Average Not Recommended Avoid like the Plague You can follow Ryan's reviews on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/ryanmeftmovies/ Or his very infrequent tweets here: https://twitter.com/RyanmEft All images are property of the people what own the movie.

1 note · View note

recentanimenews · 5 years

Text

My Hero Academia, Vols. 1-19

By Kohei Horikoshi | Published by VIZ Media

Reviewing nineteen volumes of a manga at once is a pretty daunting task, but here goes!

In a world where 80% of the population possesses superpowers known as “Quirks,” some people turned to villainy while others, officially trained and licensed, embarked upon careers of heroism to thwart them. Izuku Midoriya grew up idolizing heroes, particularly All Might, the Symbol of Peace, who always saves people with a smile. Unfortunately for Izuku, he was one of those unfortunate few without a Quirk and was forced to watch as his classmates and friends manifested abilities while he did not.

When Izuku is fourteen, he meets and impresses All Might when, despite being powerless, he rushes in to help his childhood friend Katsuki Bakugo when he is attacked by a sludge villain. As it turns out, All Might, who possesses a Quirk called One for All that endows him with super strength, was grievously injured several years previously in a battle with his nemesis, All for One. One for All is unique in that it can be passed on to a successor, and All Might has decided that Izuku is worthy of inheriting his power. All along, it’s been Izuku’s dream to attend U.A. High School and, after ten months of intensive training (and after ingesting one of All Might’s hairs), he succeeds in passing the entrance exam for U.A.’s Hero Course, much to Bakugo’s annoyance. (Bakugo believes he has been deceived about Izuku having been Quirkless all this time.)

Like many other shounen manga, part of the plot of My Hero Academia involves Izuku and the other students gradually getting stronger. Izuku goes through various stages of control over his power and eventually injures himself seriously to the point where he must switch to fighting primarily with his legs because his arms are so damaged. By volume nineteen, he can sustain 20% power only briefly, and All Might (who now teaches at U.A.) is training him how to, for the first time, add long-range attacks to his arsenal.

Meanwhile, just as Izuku is the protégé of All Might, All for One had taken a boy under his wing, as well. Tomura Shigaraki is a nihilistic villain with a particular grudge against All Might. He forms the League of Villains and so far has attempted to assassinate All Might at the school, attacked a training camp and kidnapped Bakugo, and ambushed a police caravan in order to steal Quirk-erasing drugs that had been seized from a former ally. While All Might exhausted the remainder of his powers to vanquish All for One, Shigaraki remains an active threat. Because of the power vacuum left by All Might’s retirement, the U.A. first years are able to take their provisional license exams earlier than normal and also go out into the field in work-study capacity.

The TL;DR version is: the plot is very good. Horikoshi-sensei writes with exuberance and mastery. However, the plot is not the reason I love My Hero Academia. I love it for the characters. I was thinking… I have read almost 90 volumes of One Piece by this point. Clearly, I enjoy it a lot and particularly admire the worldbuilding and continuity. However, while I’m fond of a few of the Straw Hats, I wouldn’t say I love any of them. Whereas with My Hero Academia, I love, like, ten of them. Here are some standouts:

• Izuku Midoriya – One of the things I really like about Izuku is that he’s smart. As a Quirkless hero fanboy, he spent a lot of time analyzing how they handled situations, and he’s good at coming up with strategies. Plus, he possesses all the idealistic qualities that a good shounen hero should have. He’s always out to help people, even if they don’t ask for it.

• Katsuki Bakugo – Bakugo has an explosive temper, but gradually reveals he’s a lot more sensitive that he lets on. Because of his volatile performance at the Sports Festival, Shigaraki targeted him, hoping to recruit him for the League of Villains. This ultimately led to All Might’s final confrontation with All for One, and Bakugo feels responsible that the Symbol of Peace (whom he also deeply admires) has been depowered. He’s the only one who knows Izuku’s secret and, after the most moving brawl I’ve ever seen in which he’s able to process some of the feelings he couldn’t express, he’s finally able to talk to Izuku without hostility. The day he actually smiles at Izuku, I will bawl.

• Shoto Todoroki – He became Izuku’s friend after the Sports Festival, in which Izuku encouraged him to finally embrace the half of his powers that came from his odious dad, #2 hero Endeavor. He’s still got a complex about his dad, but he’s working through it. And, for his part, Endeavor is trying to become a better hero, too, though he’s got a long way to go.

• Ochaco Uraraka – She’s a spunky girl who admires Izuku and has other feelings for him that she’s pushing aside for the moment. When she begins the series, she wants to become a hero for financial reasons, hoping to support her parents who’ve worked so hard. After her work study experience requires her to convey a dying hero to the hospital, she realizes in volume eighteen how much she just wants to save people. The monetary side has become less important.

• Eijiro Kirishima – Kirishima is just a supporting character until around volume fifteen, when he suddenly gets more fleshing out than even Ochaco or Ida (another of Izuku’s close friends) has received. He’s got an inferiority complex because his Quirk is purely defensive and castigates himself that he couldn’t help when Bakugo was taken. He presents himself as someone more confident and has a lot of noble ideals about what a hero should be, but I love that underneath that persona he’s a lot more complicated.

• Yuga Aoyama – In most other series, the kid who starts off being puffed up with pride over his own abilities (a naval laser!) would remain comic relief forever. But Horikoshi gives Aoyama several important heroic moments and, recently, he and Izuku have bonded over the fact that both of their Quirks cause them bodily harm, which doesn’t seem to be a problem for the other students. I would really love to see Aoyama star in his own arc.

• Mirio Togata – I was not prepared for the dizzying speed by which I’d come to love Mirio. He’s the one the principal (and All Might’s former sidekick, Sir Nighteye) originally had in mind as the next recipient of One for All. He’s optimistic and works hard and I love that he bears no grudge against Eri, a six-year-old girl that he lost his Quirk protecting. His return to heroism has been foreseen, so that’s something I’m looking forward to. His best friend Tamaki Amajiki is highly lovable, too.

• All Might – He’s not the greatest teacher, but he’s really trying hard. He serves as a father figure to Izuku and says encouraging things to him that make me verklempt, like “You’ve already exceeded my expectations more times than I can count. In my heart of hearts, I believe there’s something special in you and you alone.” That’s some Rupert Giles-y dialogue right there! And man, that battle with All for One.

• Shota Aizawa – I saved the best for last. Aizawa is the homeroom teacher for class I-A and I love him so, so much. He is a great teacher and puts a lot of thought into how best to encourage development in his students. One of my favorite Aizawa moments occurs at a press conference when he expresses absolute faith that Bakugo will not be tempted to join the League of Villains. “More than anyone, he pursues the title of top hero with all he has.” Later, during a home visit with Bakugo’s parents to discuss the new on-campus dormitories, Bakugo’s mom reveals how much she appreciated this proof that her son has been understood by his educators. “Most everything comes easy to him. His whole life, people’ve made a fuss about him… praising him for every little thing he does.” Aizawa sees Bakugo’s potential but also doesn’t let any of his shortcomings slide. I love, too, how he helps take care of Eri and buys her outfits with kitties on them.

Barring one, the other students in class 1-A are great, too, and I hope they get their own arcs as revelatory as Kirishima’s recent one. And then there’s class 1-B, who we’ve only glimpsed, as well as Hitoshi Shinso, a boy from the General Studies Course who may have the potential to transfer to the Hero Course.

Alas, there’s one thing and one particular character that I don’t love about My Hero Academia.

• Although the female characters are impressively varied in character design and personality and are always included in various heroic endeavors (and their abilities respected by the male characters), they just don’t get as much of the spotlight as the guys do. True, Ashida and Jiro are more to the fore during the School Festival arc, which is very welcome, but I want to see them out in the field kicking some serious ass.

• Minoru Mineta – Unlike the other students who’ve grown over the course of the series, Mineta starts off as a gross little pervert, remains a gross little pervert, and there’s zero indication that he’ll ever be anything other than a gross little pervert. He doesn’t see girls as people, but as objects, evaluated solely for their attractiveness. In fact, his first words to Eri in volume nineteen—who is, I reiterate, six years old—are, “Look me up in ten years.” I want Shigaraki to use his disintegration Quirk on him. Slowly. And then Shinso can have his spot.

Ultimately, I love this series unabashedly. I love it as much as I love Hikaru no Go, and that’s a lot. And as with Hikaru, I love the anime just as much as the manga and recommend both. It took until volume nineteen to make it to October of Izuku’s first year, so at that pace, we’re looking at around 38 volumes per school year times three years… Sounds good to me! I will plug my ears and go “la la la!” if anyone ever mentions a time jump. This is really too good to rush. Or miss.

My Hero Academia is ongoing in Japan, where volume 24 will be out in August. Volume 20 is due out in English in August. New chapters are also available in English on the Shonen Jump website and app.

Review copies for some volumes provided by the publisher.

By: Michelle Smith

#Anime #News #Manga Bookshelf

0 notes

foursproutwealth-blog · 7 years

Text

Russia's "Dreadful Threat" To Britain

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/russias-dreadful-threat-to-britain/

Russia's "Dreadful Threat" To Britain

Authored by Brian Cloughley via The Strategic Culture Foundation,

It is claimed that Russia is menacing Britain. Please don’t burst out laughing. This is a serious business. The defence minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the colourful Mr Gavin Williamson, told enthralled readers of the xenophobic right wing Daily Telegraph newspaper (a sad and stumbling shadow of its former distinguished self) that Russia is a “real threat” to the UK.

Williamson wrote that Russia was examining energy cables and pipelines between the UK and the EU, and warned that sabotage could come by a cyber-attack, missile or undersea activity. He asked “Why would they keep photographing and looking at power stations, why are they looking at the interconnectors that bring so much electricity and so much energy into our country?”

And well he might ask that question, because all that anyone needs to do is tap Google Search and up will come dozens of maps showing exactly where power stations are located, by type, in Britain. Here is just one example, published by the UK’s Daily Mail newspaper.

And here’s Pembroke Combined Cycle Power Plant in west Wales.

There are thousands of maps and photographs published showing power plants, pipelines and cables all over Europe. And Russia, like other countries, has satellites that show in exquisite detail everything that is capable of being photographed. If it wants information about any of the creaking power infrastructure in poor old Britain there is no need to send a spook out of John Le Carré to “look at power stations.” The BBC pointed this out to its listeners in reporting the comment by Russia’s defence Ministry spokesman that “for the minister’s information, all data regarding the location of British power stations and pipelines is as secret as, for instance, photographs and the location of Westminster Abbey or Big Ben.”

The absurdity of Williamson’s excited warning tends to erode his reputation for high intelligence, but then it is only too often, as observed in the analysis ‘Clever Sillies’, that “the most intelligent people are more likely than those of average intelligence to have novel but silly ideas, and therefore to believe and behave maladaptively.”

Williamson is not alone in delivering breath-taking allegations of the supposedly active Russian danger. The BBC noted that “he was backed by former First Sea Lord [civilian head of the Royal Navy] and security minister Lord West, who told the paper he was ‘absolutely certain’ Russia was looking at how to get into the UK’s critical infrastructure.” His words echoed those of the head of the National Cyber Security Centre, Ciaran Martin, who alleged that Russia had already staged attacks against Britain’s media, telecommunications and energy sectors over the past year.

Then came the observation that all this “comes as the Ministry of Defence is under pressure to avoid cuts that could be coming from the Treasury.”

When needing money, it is most tempting for politicians and their adherents to conjure up a threat that can be neither disproved nor discounted and is attractive to believe. These people don’t need to provide evidence to back up their assertions (look at Trump), and the magic word “patriotism” is always implied, hanging unsaid but majestically dominant over those whose prudence and rationality are always defeated by the hype of contrived nationalistic fervour. That’s how the manic promoters of Brexit have managed to do so much damage to the essentially decent spirit of the people of the United Kingdom, and polarise the nation.

It appears that Mr Williamson is trying his best to obtain a lot of money out of an unwilling finance ministry (the Treasury) in order to stop or at least slow down the decline in effectiveness of Britain’s Army, Navy and Air Force, which attracted the attention of the UK’s satirical magazine Private Eye some months ago:

There is no doubt that Britain’s defence forces are in a parlous state. They are at their lowest strength for over a century, and their capabilities have declined alarmingly. On February 4 the BBC reported that “A government review has proposed axing up to 2,000 marines and the Royal Navy’s two specialist landing ships, but a Commons Defence Select Committee report said such cuts would be ‘militarily illiterate’,” which is far from reassuring to those remaining in the sadly depleted armed services.

When I joined the British Army in 1958 the strength of the Royal Artillery, alone, was some 80,000. The most recent reports indicate that the entire army now numbers “77,440 fully trained regular soldiers.” Not only that, but good soldiers are leaving the army (as I hear in London which I’m visiting as I write this piece) because their conditions of service are terrible and the dreaded “outsourcing” of support services — Britain’s disastrous privatisation racket — has badly affected the ethos of the military family, be that centred on land, sea or air.

But Williamson is not noted for his devotion to family, either his own or others. He is utterly bereft of sympathy or solicitude for those members of society who are disadvantaged through no fault of their own.

For example, in Parliament he has consistently voted against measures to advance equality and human rights while voting in favour of reducing people’s benefits, and against raising them at least in line with prices. He has also voted against paying higher benefits over longer periods for those unable to work due to disability or illness. He voted against making it illegal for people to discriminate against others on the basis of caste and in favour of repealing the Human Rights Act 1998. You get the picture : he’s hardly a caring and compassionate human being.

According to the British Government “The Armed Forces Covenant is a promise from the nation that those who serve or have served, and their families, are treated fairly. We’re working with businesses, local authorities, charities and community organisations to support the forces through services, policy and projects.” Yet it is a matter of record that Mr Williamson “voted against strengthening this covenant. He has voted against a legally binding covenant set out in law and against public bodies considering the effects of people’s service in the forces when setting healthcare, education and housing policies.”

Given his history of intolerance, coldness and insensitivity Williamson is hardly the sort of defence minister to engender support and respect from the armed forces, but that factor would not even enter his mind. What is uppermost in his mind is that the way to the political top of the Conservative Party is to attract attention and headlines and that one way of achieving publicity is to jump on the anti-Russia bandwagon by declaring that Russia is determined to “Damage [Britain’s] economy, rip its infrastructure apart, actually cause thousands and thousands and thousands of deaths, but actually have an element of creating total chaos within the country.”

Fortunately, in addition to the editors of Britain’s Private Eye magazine, some other people and organisations have a sense of humour and treated Williamson’s nutty outburst with calm derision. Russia’s defence ministry spokesman, Major General Igor Konashenkov, summed it up in a way that got a lot of positive attention in Britain.

His pithy observation was that “Gavin Williamson in his fiery crusade for military budget money appears to have lost his grasp on reason. His fears about Russia getting pictures of power plants and studying the routes of British pipelines are worthy of a comic plot or a Monty Python’s Flying Circus sketch.”

Farce marches on.

#Wealth

0 notes

endorsereviews · 7 years

Text

GKIC – Craftsmanship of One to Many Selling

Who Else Wants To Close More Sales, And Substantially Increase Your Bottom Line Without Investing A Single Additional Penny Into Your Business?

I want to show you how to sell more, sell faster, and sell more efficiently than you have ever have in your entire life. And you can do all of this without spending a single extra penny into your business. You see, there’s a “secret code” to smartly crafted scripts that most marketers will never know. These are tested and proven principles you can easily “move” into your existing scripts…or, if you’re a one-to-many selling newbie, can avoid years of trial and error trying to “wing it” yourself. It’s a script I’ve been using for the past 40 years crafting group selling presentations, speeches, infomercials, etc. for a veritable “Who’s Who”of clients.

Details

“One To Many Selling” will allow you to leverage your time and efforts if you’re currently doing one-on-one selling. There’s nothing like getting people in a room, on a webinar or on a teleseminar and closing as many sales as possible…

…results that would take you months to duplicate if you were to “start from scratch” with no blueprint or plan.

Believe me, when it all comes together, there’s no more efficient way to make money than with One-To-Many Selling.

The ability to craft these presentations is a very, very valuable ability–arguably a super power.

So, if you currently make speak to sell presentations from stage, you’ll discover how to perhaps double or triple your conversions by getting a better understanding of the psychology of group selling.

And if you’re getting started, you’ll be able to “hit the ground running” and prevent many mistakes most people make when making sales presentations from stage or on webinars and teleseminars.

Even if you have “stage fright” or want to sell better from webinars, teleseminars or infomercials, One-To-Many Selling will allow you to close more sales—even if you have absolutely NO experience whatsoever.

And if you sell people one-on-one either in person or on the phone, you’ll be able to multiply your hourly rate to 4-5 figures by implementing the simple system I want to reveal to you.

I have created HUNDREDS OF platform-selling presentations for myself and for clients, including short speeches, 2 and 3-hour preview seminars, and full day presentations that have each been worth millions of dollars.

These are done with the same pain-staking thought and engineering as a TV infomercial on which a half-million dollars will be risked.

When there is much at stake, there should be much care taken. For me, this is formulaic. Systematic. I know what needs to be there, what needs to be done, and what needs avoided.

Here’s How To Forever Remove Sloppiness And Waste When It Come To One To Many Selling Opportunities And Efforts

If you’ve ever gotten on a stage, a webinar and a teleseminar and decided to “wing it” (or have been tempted to) consider this:

You wouldn’t see actors or actresses in a Broadway play work this way. You also wouldn’t see television actors show up on the set and say whatever they want when the camera rolls.

A Broadway play or a movie is planned, scripted, re-written, focus group tested, storyboarded, and rehearsed.

Professional comedians from Leno to Seinfeld to Louie C.K. to the late Joan Rivers go to small clubs to try out and fine-tune new material before building it into a monologue or HBO Special.

There is a science to crafting ANY and EVERY kind of presentation for intended effect. SALES presentations delivered One-To-Many in person or through media are sensitive.

You need not risk guesswork. There are well-tested, well-proven structures and methods that yield top results.

And even in instances when One-To-Many selling is accomplished in spontaneous conversation…like through our 4-hour Livecasts or panel discussions, there are success factors, or a “3 x 5 Power Card” that is prepared before each presentation.

Are You Making Serious Mistakes Or Missing Out On Important Drivers Of Response With Your Webinars, Teleseminars And Stage Presentation?

For example, here are “tells” the audience processes subconsciously if not consciously, that affect their buy/no-buy response as much or more than the words spoken, offer made, proof offered.

People who play poker look for an opposing player’s “tell”–a silent signal he is likely unaware of or can’t control, that gives away the truth of his concealed hand of cards.

Speakers, presenters, pitch-people have “tells” – that signal the audience, that convey the truth of veracity and value.

But, chances are, you don’t know these “tells” so you can discipline yourself to use them to your advantage.

There are also 5 keys to holding an audience’s interest for long and very long presentations you’re probably not using. This is critical in this “low attention span” society we live in.

There is one element many go to great extremes to work around and omit – but that should be included every time.

There’s also the one story that is MANDATORY – that responds to the one thing consumers are deeply concerned about even though they shouldn’t be, and are disturbed by its absence (even though they can’t enunciate why they’re disturbed).

Now’s the time to “up the sophistication” of your one-to-many presentations I’ve tested and refined over my 40 years in sales and marketing…

…whose clients have earned a collective 1 BILLION Dollars under my tutelage as a copywriter, speaker and marketing consultant.

The Untold Secrets Of One To Many Selling Has Mostly Been “Under The Table” And Undisclosed Until TODAY:

I know “secrets” is such an overused term.

Yet, because I have infinitely more and more diversified experience at this, and am called upon to craft such presentations repeatedly, and paid 6-figure sums to do so, it’s reasonable to say…

…yes, I know things that are secret to you.

Whether you want to speak from the stage to sell—from 60 minutes to 6 hours—or use teleseminars, webinars, audio CDs, DVDs or TV infomercials to spread your sales message, you’re about to discover the “secret code” to crafting smart and high-converting scripts and presentations.

Here’s Just SOME Of What You’ll Discover On This Training:

Lessons from The Amazing Kreskin and Houdini, and the “magic ingredient” most marketers FAIL TO INCLUDE in their video presentations – and I’ll show you actual examples you can easily “move” into your own business. The “call to action” decision to be made regarding every video, webinar, etc., that most marketers get wrong. This could be sabotaging your sales if you’re currently making one-to-many sales presentations. Why “perfect” is the enemy of optimum response: two examples that prove beyond any doubt that too polished of a video presentation damages the most important reaction required from viewers. There are Five Chief Errors made in videotaping testimonials. I’ll discuss all five so you don’t make these same mistakes. The one “scene” mandatory for all successful infomercials in a certain product category…that should be copied by more marketers in more diverse categories. When you use a “panel” of testimonials on stage, live, in front of an audience, THE ONE THING you can do too multiply their effectiveness 10-fold VS. the one most common mistake that lessens their impact. (This is screwed up royally at most seminars!) The best way to legally and safely present exceptional results of your best “champions” as claims of achievable results. (A tactic that has held up for 20+ years.) How I use “The 3-Act Play” for platform selling and sales presentations, webinars, audio CD’s, videos, etc. Plus the one thing you should do immediately before you start your pitch. The Surrogate Skeptic: why, when, where and how to use him – and why you NEED him. This will allow you to craft your presentation so you can “flip” them into buying from you. The Content Mask: how to disguise development-of-demand as educational content and satisfy audiences as you sell to them. The 7 things your audience must realize and know as a result of your presentation, before they will buy (This list alone is worth twice the price of this course. It is my Governing-Law for EVERY one-to-many presentation in any and every media. It is adhered to by “giants” selling BILLIONS of dollars of goods and services annually with one-to- many presentations.) The Secret of “Progressive Acceptance” and The Secret of “Stacking Benefits”—implement these and your conversions will soar, instead of having a presentation that BOMBS and leaves you scratching your head wondering what happened. How to structure and use the Summary & The Signature Story And how to make the Act of Buying an Act Of Validation of Superiority – with a lesson from Zig Ziglar. Why, when & how to make the act of buying an act of rebellion – with a lesson from Glenn W. Turner (Dare To Be Great). How to properly structure your offer and upsell your prospects. This is how you really boost your customer value. Three different (Free) TESTS to give your crafted and planned presentation – before you actually use it & Cheap ‘n dirty “Dry Tests” you can run with a presentation – before you actually use it. The Momentum Factor & Trial Closes: pros, cons, benefits, hazards and successful manipulation thereof (chance are, you don’t have these in your arsenal). …and a whole LOT more! These Secrets Work Even If You’re Going To Make A Presentation To 12 Prospects In Your Office’s Conference Room To 1,200 From An Event Stage, Webinar Or Teleseminar

When you take action and add “One To Many Selling” to your marketing arsenal, you’re literally getting the golden keys to the vault…because you’re going to possess the blueprint of every single one of my million dollar speeches.

You’ll walk into any one-to-many selling situation and have the confidence of a bullfighter with mustard on his sword—knowing you’re going to “kill it” when you get on stage or that webinar or teleseminar.

You’ll also understand every single element of a one-to-many selling situation you can easily “cut and paste” over and over again in your business. Including how to open a presentation. Psychology. Structure. And how to close.

It’s hard for me to think of a business or profession where a great One To Many selling opportunity can’t be capitalized on.

And it’s hard to think of anyone in any of the just named situations who won’t profit enormously by this Training of mine, assembled from my unmatched experience.

The ability to craft powerful One-To-Many presentations marries a number of key skills brought to specialized applications: copywriting and script-writing, irresistible offer development, speaking, audio and video production, and, bigger and broader, “opportunity finding.”

Nothing Can Help You Sell More, Sell More Efficiently, And Sell Faster Than A Well-Crafted One-To-Many Presentation

One company hired me to re-work their sales presentation that netted over $250,000 a month with the same lead flow.

I also took another company that relied on one-to-one selling model and replaced it with a one-to-many group meeting strategy that produced $34 million in 1/4th the time ordinarily required.

At the core of both these situation is a brilliantly crafted, highly effective presentation. And that can be at the core of a great deal of success for you, too.

Today, the Internet offers expansive opportunity for ‘live’ and automated One To Many selling that is far greater than anything we’ve ever had before.

But don’t let that distract you from just how many people and companies create superior incomes through live One-To-Many, even in small groups – the implant dentistry seminar held in-office, for a small group, that puts $200,000 of dentistry on the schedule in 90 minutes.

This works for B2B, professional services (health, finance, etc.), a local retail business, a restaurant, you name it.

If you have a great idea or unproven invention or new product, you can sell more, sell efficiently, and sell with less fee resistance with the right presentation and approach.

Now, Do You Need To Brace Yourself For The Fee For This Training Never Before Offered In The GKIC Catalog?

The investment in “One To Many Selling” will, admittingly, be noted as a little stiff by some.

But looking that way is small thinking.

I am basically synthesizing my “insider” information and experience of “One To Many Selling” into a tightly focused package it would only take you one afternoon and evening to review.

This is highly specialized information that cannot be valued by the pound, hour or day.

A few “a-ha” moments you’ll get from this day could easily equate to tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or even MILLIONS of dollars…

…to anybody doing “One To Many Selling” or should be.

So consider this box containing “One To Many Selling” to be a big box of money—considering the breakthroughs and potential money you could be earning when you take action on these proven secrets.

You see, I get paid 6 figures to create presentations for clients, and I recently charge $10K to reveal my secrets in front of a small group of people.

You could easily earn this money back with one successful “speak to sell” engagement where you’ll only have to sell a handful of products to make up this investment—whether it’s face-to-face or via webinar or teleseminar.

So, in reality, “One To Many Selling” doesn’t “cost” anything. Owning a powerful One To Many selling presentation built from scratch or marginally improved can easily repay your investment.

There’s nothing “cookie cutter” here. This is a sophisticated art and science you’ll get to implement for your own presentations.

I promise you this: whether your opportunity is with One To Many Selling with 18 people in your office on a Wednesday evening or 180 people in a hotel meeting room or to 1,800 people via a webinar, or you can profit by sending a sales DVD or CD to prospects…

…you can harvest a great deal more from any such opportunity if you really know how to craft those presentations.

GKIC – Craftsmanship of One to Many Selling posted first on premiumwarezstore.blogspot.com

0 notes

sublimedeal · 7 years