#Yeeting my questions into the void

[onlymollygibson]

so, is the mandalorian penchant to adopt everything that moves, like, canon canon?

or is it is one of those lovely organically fan grown treats like tattooine slave culture?

[ghostinthegallery]

Okay before I get too invested, how gay are these Ultrakill robots? Because the fanart is stunning and very gay and the robots are hot, but I don't want to dive into the source material if it will disappoint me with insufficiently gay robots.

I ship necrons, my standards are high.

[moregraceful]

Sugar High

There was a prompt on @theresonly1u fest for “Thomas Bordeleau/Tristen Robins - watermelon” and I immediately thought of the transgirl Thom fic that Ko and Sierra have been teasing for months and NOT posting. Made my OWN transgirl Thom narrative while I wait impatiently for them to drop the bass…except then went to check with Ko that it was them or Sierra who posted the prompt and it wasn’t either of them. I was like, well I’m not posting transgirl Thom in full view of someone who might not have the gift of sight. So I’m posting it here instead! Playlist + cover + lyrics under the cut.

(i bring a real "everything on one layer so i cannot redraw easily if i decide i don't like something" vibe to procreate that many artists do not enjoy)

Spotify // YouTube

✨☀️✨

betterman - Virginia to Vegas

I want to be a better me / a better man / a better lover, better brother, better friend / Put myself back together again ‘cause I still got a couple of sins / And I got pretty lucky, made a whole bunch of money but I don’t feel any better yet / So I’m trying to do the best I can / to be better me / a better man.

Spaceship - Kesha

I know from the start I don’t belong in these parts / There’s too much hate, there’s too much hurt for this heart / Lord knows this planet feels like a hopeless place / Thank God I’m going back to outerspace.

Straight Jacket - Bay Ledges

I try but I never get past it / Fake smile and I want to unmask it / Got me tied up / Unwrap this straight jacket / straight jacket / Everybody knows.

Radical - AWOLNATION (feat. GROUPLOVE)

I’m not a rebel or a king / Not sure they’ve got a name for me / Since we all die eventually / Tonight, I’m a radical.

Take Me Home (Folktales) - BUNT. (feat Alexander Tidebrink)

I’m never coming back to the place I once knew / If I do, I’m gonna drown in the blue / Said I’m never coming back to the lies and the rules / if I do, I’ll put all faith in you / Take me home / Home / Home, my love.

SUPERBLOOM (stripped) - MisterWives [live from the bloom version]

Resilient little thing, just like mama raised you / Wildflower in the spring, they can’t contain you / through the cracks you break through.

Shut Off The Lights - Bastille

No talk of the future now / Dark thoughts / You’re shaking ‘em, taking ‘em out / This rhythm we create sets me straight.

Tender - Blur

Tender is the night, lying by your side / Tender is the touch of someone that you love too much / Tender is the day the demons go away / Lord, I need to find someone who can heal my mind.

Love Is Mystical - Cold War Kids [Los Feliz Blvd version]

Living life with no need for the breaks / Something happens when I lean on my mistakes / If the words are true and the words reveal the same / I come alive when I don’t even think / Love is mystical / Love will break the chains / You might be invincible and you might be afraid.

Seventeen - Sjowgren

If you want a second to breathe / Give you all of my love, give you all need / Don’t worry, I’m not in a hurry / I’m not going nowhere / I’m not going nowhere.

Call If You Need Me - Vance Joy

Ask me to go faster, put my foot on the floor / Standing on the edge, I feel like I’ve been here before / Loved you in the darkness and I loved you in fluorescent lights / If it don’t feel right, babe / You can run and hide, babe.

Enjoy!

[ashwii]

Hello I’d just like to let you know I’ve seen your celestial au for 10 minutes and I’m already completely obsessed. The art is SO PRETTY HHHHHHHHHH IM GOING TO EXPLODE /pos THE SHINIES AND THE SPARKLES……

Awww thank you so so much, that really means a lot to me !!

[roguelioness]

vis-à-vis (this spark of want)

Fandom: FFXIV Pairing: Aymeric de Borel/Alyzen Kaide/Estinien Varlineau Rating: M Words: 1396

(read on ao3)

They’re curved, and smooth, and gleam from a generous application of salve. They much resemble the bow she favors, beautiful and elegant, a feature to be admired - and worshipped, as they rightfully deserve. The upper one with its gentle twinned peaks, the lower like the slow meander of a river. Soft and ripe, a lushness to be savored, to be indulged in, and it has been far, far too long that he’s gone without tracing the shape of them–

“Lord Commander?” Alphinaud’s voice breaks through his reverie. “Is aught amiss?”

Aymeric clears his throat, shifting his gaze from Alyzen’s now-smirking mouth to the white-haired lad. “Forgive me,” he says smoothly, “‘Twas little more than a momentary disappointment that your efforts have come to naught.”

“Tis true we hoped for a better outcome,” Alphinaud responds, “but I take solace in the knowledge that we have done all in our power to resolve this war without bloodshed–”

“Get to the point, lad. We do not have time for your ceaseless prattling.” Estinien calls out from the corner he’s tucked himself into. While the others are dressed casually - and appropriately for the weather - Estinien is in full armor, his helmet covering the majority of his face, leaving only his jaw visible.

Estinien has pretty lips.

Aymeric lifts a hand, wanting to drag it down his face, but stops himself in time.

“Ah, yes,” Alphinaud blushes, “to reiterate what Estinien has already mentioned, we have located Nidhogg’s lair, but the wyrm has…” Aymeric tries to focus, he truly does, but it’s all but impossible to do so when Alyzen is standing right there with a finger tapping against that luscious mouth, drawing attention to the fullness of it. She meets his gaze, the corner of those lips quirking upward ever-so-slightly, and slowly, deliberately outlines the shape of her bottom lip before catching it between her teeth.

That minx. She knows. She knows his attention is wandering, and knows she is the cause of it. Aymeric is fond of Alphinaud, but at this moment, the lad’s voice and penchant for long-winded speech makes him grit his teeth.

“Garlond Ironworks believe they have a viable solution to the matter of the tempestuous barrier…”

He watches as Estinien unfurls himself and moves to Alyzen’s side, dipping his head close to her ear as though he’s whispering a secret, but Aymeric can see the way the dragoon’s lips press against the soft skin there, is keenly aware of the shiver Aly tries to suppress. Her golden gaze flicks over to him, lips parted in an exhale he can almost feel against his own mouth. Folding his hands together, fingers squeezing against knuckles for a light bite of pain, he tries to refocus on what Alphinaud is saying.

“They believe they should have a prototype of the manacutter ready by…” Fury forefend, would the lad never conclude his chatter? How did he have so much breath?

Estinien is smirking. Estinien is smirking, and that is never a good sign. Aymeric shifts behind his desk, eyes now wary, shooting the dragoon a gaze that screams whatever you have in mind, do not do it.

Estinien’s smirk only grows wider.

He raises a gauntlet-covered hand, gently turning Aly’s face towards his before his armored thumb presses against the corner of her lips, as though he’s wiping away a stray crumb from breakfast. Aymeric shuts his eyes, inordinately grateful that Lucia isn’t here to see this display, and that Alphinaud is too engrossed in whatever he’s saying to pay attention to the spectacle behind him.

Then Aly parts her lips, allowing Estinien to slide his finger into the warmth of her mouth and Aymeric watches the deliberately exaggerated concavity of her cheeks as she undoubtedly sucks at the intruding digit, and he has had enough.

And still Alphinaud is talking!

Estinien drags his thumb from Aly’s mouth, traces the shape of it with that spit-slick digit, before tugging lightly at her lip, causing her to break out into a quiet sigh. He can’t see it from here, but he knows the hue of that delicate pink flesh, remembers how it feels to have his tongue pressed against hers. The back of his neck burns with a need to relearn the taste of her.

“...I believe Master Garlond said it runs on a mechanism that converts aether from its surroundings into elemental wind, which is then harnessed by the sails…”

Estinien starts to dip his head towards hers, and surely he would not dare to– not when Alphinaud is right there– but the lad is still happily chattering away about wind-aspected aether, and– 

Estinien kisses Aly, plush mouth pressed against plush mouth, and Aymeric nearly groans at the sight of it.

Alyzen whimpers, a quiet muffled sound, like she’d tried to contain it but it’d slipped out nonetheless.

Alphinaud pauses. “Did anyone hear that?” he asks, looking from side to side with a frown. Before he can turn and discover the irrepressible shamelessness of his paramours, Aymeric clears his throat, drawing the lad’s attention back to him. “I do not wish to be ungracious, Master Alphinaud, certainly not after all your efforts on Ishgard’s behalf, but as Lord Commander I have many duties I must attend to. By your leave, I would call a conclusion to today’s meeting.”

Alphinaud has the grace to look chagrined. “Of course. My apologies, Lord Commander, I will keep you from your responsibilities no longer.” He turns towards Alyzen, who has, thankfully, parted from Estinien, slightly-reddened lips the only sign of her wayward behavior. “Shall we return to Fortemps Manor?” Aly’s gaze flickers to his, waiting for him to come up with an excuse to detain her, but he instead steeples his fingers atop his desk and smiles placidly.

“We should, yes,” he can hear the reluctance in her tone where Alphinaud cannot. Aymeric half-expects Estinien to speak up and have her remain behind, but to his surprise the dragoon merely returns to his corner, arms folded across his chest.

When she’s just about to step outside, one foot already across the threshold, he springs. Shuffling random papers, he says, very, very casually, “Oh, Mistress Kaide, a moment if you would. Several of our archers expressed interest in learning several of your techniques; mayhap we could discuss the possibility of a training session?” He dares not look at Estinien as he waits for her response; in the end, after she and Alphinaud exchange a look, it’s the lad who smiles guilelessly and says, “I will let Lord Edmont know your arrival will be delayed,” before walking away.

Aymeric waits until Alyzen’s closed the door. While her back is still turned to him, he calls out, very softly, “Lock the door, please.” His request makes his intentions clear, and he waits for her decision.

Her head tilts to the side, her fingers wrapped around the handle, the other hand on the key. Estinien is still silent, his stance relaxed, one shoulder wedged against the wall. 

A quick, deft movement of her hand, a soft click as the tumblers in the lock fall into place.

Aymeric is on his feet and halfway across the floor to her by the time she turns to face him. When he reaches her, he crowds her against the towering wooden door, a hand on each side of her body to cage her in. “Minx,” he whispers, enjoying the mischievous gleam in those citrine eyes, “did you conspire with Estinien to torment me afore this assignation?”

“‘You cannot blame me for your wandering attention, Aymeric,” her lips curve into a feline grin.

“Oh, I most certainly can,” he retorts, reaching to – at last! – touch that lush mouth, drawing a sharp inhale as she captures the tip of his finger between her teeth. “Minx,” he says again, more fondly this time.

“Well, I am here at your disposal, Lord Commander,” she breathes, shifting to kiss his palm. “What would you have of me?”

The smile he gives her has her narrowing her eyes at him. “I would have my vengeance,” he murmurs. “I would have the two of you beg.”

She grins at him, wide, teeth bared in a challenge. “I cannot wait," she climbs onto her toes until there's but a hair's breadth of distance between their mouths, their breaths mingling with every exhale, "to see what you have in mind.”

[candylovesans-officialaskblog]

what's your favorite AU?

Outertale has been my favorite AU for a while, though Flowerfell is easily in second place.

"Excuse me, who are you and what are you doing in my void?"

[merakiui]

Mera my pookie bun I have a question! Did you ever get the Tutor!Riddle ask I sent? Less of an ask and more of a brainrot headcannon -- It's a long paragraph. I think you'd enjoy it and I was wondering if you'd seen it since you haven't reacted yet and it's been a while > < ) !!

I'm a little scared it got yeeted into the tmblr void because I didn't save it 🥹🥹 And it was so good pls 🦅

:O I just checked through the inbox and I did indeed receive it!!!!! I’m not sure how I missed it! T^T this is such a yummy thought omg……. there’s so much more I want to say, but I will save it for the actual ask hehe. Your brain is so beautiful, sweetest pookie. 🫶🫶

I’m so happy tumblr didn’t eat it. (๑>◡<๑)

[elizakai]

i’ve been feeling the need to make some boundaries when it comes to private messaging…

i’m fairly chill about messaging but there’s a few repeated things i’m just not comfortable with…i don’t expect everyone to see this or anything but. just for anyone who does :))

—————————————————————-

ASIDE FROM MUTUALS-if you message me privately, please do so with a reason in mind!

what i mean by this is please do not slide into dms just to say hi every day and nothing else… (unless you’re a mutual that’s fine LOL)

it’s honestly uncomfortable and has happened somewhat often, that and an expectation to keep up the void ‘conversations’, it’s just awkward and sometimes frustrating when i ask ‘what’s up! can i help you?’ and i’m met with ‘ :3’

(this isn’t passive aggressive i promise <3 )

i do not mind dms, just please know why you are dming me first ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

(maybe you have a question this isn’t catered for asks, or you want to do something art related for example! :D )

additionally in regards to dm’s…i know this is a harsh sounding one to some, but tumblr has an age minimum of 13 years old, similar to discord.

please please please, all i ask is that you do not message me privately if you are below tumblrs/discords age limit, this has happened too many times and it’s highly uncomfortable. i’m not here to parent/police anyone at all, just don’t PRIVATE MESSAGE me, please :)

im not thinking of anyone in particular when i say this, specifically if you’re a younger person and feel called out for some reason, know i’m not targeting you at all /100% genuine <3

PLEASE dont apologize or anything like that, i beg :,)

MY ASK BOX IS OPEN ! :D

if the above things don’t apply, my ask box is always open, it’s more public there🥲 i hope that’s understandable <3

(i may be additionally selective to what i answer as well :,) additionally, sometimes if i answer an ask with no sustenance to the blog i’ll eventually yeet and delete, it just makes me feel tidier LOLL)

(EVERYONE IN MY ASK BOX IS GONNA KILL ME AND MY LATE ANSWERS HAHA)

A D D I T I O N A L L Y, MUTUALS you can contact me for any reason. if i follow you it means i likely would like to interact with you :0 i’m just shy 🥲

for the record i also like interacting with people i don’t follow in case that’s unclear!!!!!!

if you come into my dm’s or asks with blatant, and unfiltered disrespect, don’t be surprised if i block you.

threats, or pointless insults, don’t be surprised when i block you.

if i see you attacking people, or are causing problems/drama on this blog, don’t be surprised when i block you.

THANK YOU TO ANYONE WHO CARED TO READ THIS💥 rare completely serious moment from me here on tumblr haha, back to our regularly scheduled bs and silliness!!😁😁🌸💫💞🪷⭐️

(i say scheduled as if i’m at all consistent sob-)

Love you all~🌸

[voxofthevoid]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by my one and only Jesus @eusuntgratie

I recently cleared out all the ask/tag games in my drafts because I realized I'd reached the pile-up stage of putting things in there and not doing shit. Thanks to everyone who's tagged me in those the last couple of months and sorry I didn't get to any!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

148

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

2,005,606 (crossed the 2 million milestone recently and am still buzzing about it)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm only writing for Jujutsu Kaisen, but I'm posting for Jujutsu Kaisen, Bleach, and MCU.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I was so sure it was going to be all MCU, but nope, it's a mix of MCU and Hannibal. God, that was my first Ao3 fandom, and my Hannibal fics are from 2014. It's surreal people are still reading/enjoying them.

if you're looking for jesus (then get on your knees)—MCU

i'm a ghost, you're an angel (one and the same)—MCU

A darkness seen and shared—Hannibal

Ways and Means—Hannibal

the hand you want to hold is a weapon (and you're nothing but skin)—MCU

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I enjoy the interactions and discussions. Plus, since I'm not a Discord (or group spaces) person, it's how I find fellow fans to chat with, especially during my initial foray into a particular fandom. I do have a huge backlog of some 1.1k comments from 2020 to mid-2021 because I didn't have much time for fandom in that period. I'm chipping away at it slowly, but I'm pretty prompt about replying to everything on my post-2021 fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm, this Hannibal fic, I'd say: Till the bitter end

Let's just say I predicted the series finale in some weird way.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of mine end happily—a few are ambiguous, while others are dark.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Oh yeah. It's only happened with MCU and Jujutsu Kaisen, and they're mostly cases of overgrown children unhappy that I didn't write the ships or dynamics they want.

9. Do you write smut?

It's my specialty now 😎

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nah. I've done fusion-style AUs, but full-on crossovers aren't something I'd like to write. I'll read them, but I'm picky.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Multiple times (MCU and YoI, iirc), both within Ao3 and offsite.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Multiple times, for multiple fandoms! It's always a delight.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I did write one(1) fic that way, but it got yeeted into the void when my co-author deleted her entire Ao3 account. I have a copy, I think.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I'm the kind of person who's most devoted to whatever is eating my brain at the time, so right now, it's Yuuji/Gojou from Jujutsu Kaisen.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but probably won’t?

My writing superpower is that if I lose interest in a WIP, I also lose all desire to finish it and any guilt about it. And these days, I tend to start a fic and work on just that till it's done. So the answer is—none.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I write some smokin' hot porn, and I'm pretty good at threading character study through it. The porn is the plot, in most cases. I also enjoy doing background worldbuilding that serves to give the narrative a sense of depth despite the focus being on characters and relationships.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fight scenes, ensemble casts, and sustained plotty plots.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Ah, I can feel my Hannibal-era Google-translate Lithuanian judging me.

In general, I avoid it, but when I write for anime set in Japan, I tend to work in honorifics. My mother tongue has those too, so I know from experience that there are no English equivalents that capture the same vibe.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Hunter x Hunter, I think. That account no longer exists. On Ao3, it's Hannibal.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I tend to be biased toward my newer works, so this keeps changing. At the moment, it's (let me be clear) every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered (JJK, goyuu).

Tagging (no pressure) 20 people because why the hell not: @possibleplatypus, @actualalligator, @joeys-piano, @cursedvibes, @backwardshirt, @m34gs, @naamah-beherit, @dragongirlg-fics, @crossroadswrite, @spacebuck, @jenroses, @calamitouskings, @knivash, @lo-55, @bookwyrmling, @sorrythatwasamistake, @ddelline, @lilyfarseer, @roughkiss and @deunan306

[sincerely-sofie]

Thinking about the Hollow Knight time-travel fix-it fic I talked about in these tags and losing my mind. I dug through the old snippets I have for the AU and I’m so sorry but I need to yeet them into the great void of the interwebs so I don’t explode. Context indented below, but feel free to skip it and just read the snippets.

During the events of the Embrace the Void ending, Ghost has become the next Lord of Shades (a sort of inherited godhood in this fic). After defeating the Radiance she immediately sets to work remaking history, and after some finagling is able to erase the Radiance from existence past a certain point in the timeline. Once she's done so, she enters the timeline and starts manually fixing everything she couldn't correct by abruptly retconning an entire goddess— and this means starting by rescuing the surviving vessels who are still trapped in the Abyss.

TPK brings up the Hollow Knight as his daughter after the Radiance disappeared and he came to the worrying realization that the mindless weapon he'd been raising was actually, for all intents and purposes, a rather normal kid. He has issues with his past but shunts the guilt to the background so he can function as a king and father. But once Ghost enters the new timeline, he starts having visions of there being other vessels who survived in the Abyss— and he starts going on a wild goose chase through all of Hallownest looking for his kids as he's forced to face the impact of the Abyss head-on.

(Ghost searches for survivors after giving herself a mild concussion:)

The first thing Ghost did upon entering the new world was materialize into the Abyss and immediately knock herself out by banging her head on an overhang. She definitely misjudged the size of this form.

She woke with a headache, one of her horns snapped off and lying at her feet, and surrounded by too-tiny, too-empty shells.  

She wanted to be sick. 

But she was on a mission.

Ghost took in a deep breath and called out.

Silence was what met her at first, then a single, quiet cheep. 

Ghost called back with a coaxing chirp. 

A head popped up over a large mound of corpses. Just one horn on this one— just one nubby little horn that sat over their brow. Ghost would have thought they were cute if they didn’t look so horrified. She reached out to them, cooing softly, and their fear gave way to interest. They rushed over and hopped onto her back so they could scramble onto her head and pat near where her horn snapped off. 

“Did you fall?” They asked through the Void, the question twisted with worry, and she could hear in their voice that they were a little boy.

“No, I didn’t fall. Just hit my head.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” She tilted her head forward to slide the sibling into her outstretched palm. A brother. She figured there must have been at least some boys among the hatchlings in the Abyss, but the only other vessel she knew was Holly. She had a little brother. The thought made her weirdly dizzy. “Where are the others?”

“Eating.”  

Ghost froze. There was nothing down here but stone, Void, and corpses, and only one of those was remotely edible. She fought down the terrible memories that crawled up— she remembered the crunch of empty chitin in her own jaws, how it scraped her throat and did nothing to fill her belly— and she reached into her Void to find the supplies she’d been given by Mato before she ascended the Pantheon. Her claws closed around the bundle, and she didn’t even wait to see if they were still good before calling out a sharp, commanding chirp. Come, there’s food here.

The number of little vessels that peered over the mounds of carapace and raced over to her was overwhelming— There were eleven. Eleven survivors, including the one on her shoulder. She didn’t come too late after all. But then she saw what they were all gnawing on and fought the urge to be sick all over again. 

“Don’t eat those,” she snapped, and several vessels looked down at the pieces of carapace clutched in their hands, confused. “They’re bad. Come here. I have something better.”

She undid the tie holding the bundle of preserves closed and set it on the ground in front of the other vessels, mentally thanking Mato for his parting gift. There were berries, crawlid jerky, bread, roots and mushrooms and vegetables she didn’t have the energy to name. The vessels eyed the food warily. 

“It’s… bright?” One ventured. 

“Colorful.”

“Smells weird,” another said. 

“Where did you find it?” Asked the one with the single horn. 

“Outside. Eat, eat.”

(Ghost is tunneling out of the Abyss with the surviving vessels:)

Ghost carved another stretch of path in the rock wall and swept the rubble out and away, over and over again, hoping she knew what direction she was digging. The vessels on her back questioned her relentlessly while she worked. 

“What happened to your thingy?” Asked one, gesturing to her two curled-down horns. 

“Horn,” Ghost corrected, and focused less on answering her question and more on ensuring that none of the vessels were swept away with the rubble or slipped from their places on her back while she dug upward.

“She hit her head,” said the one-horned vessel. 

“And it broke?” The curled-down horns vessel was aghast. “I didn’t know that could happen! Did it hurt?”

“I was alright.” 

“But your thi— your horn!” 

“It’s okay. I brought it with me, see? We can find a cloak to tie it back on.”

“But she said there weren’t any old shells outside,” said a bored-sounding vessel with horns that stuck out rather than up or down. “How are we supposed to find a way to tie it?”

While the vessels debated how to reattach her horn, which the one-horned vessel apparently brought with him without her realizing, Ghost made a mental note to check all of their hands when she had the chance. She was so concerned with getting them to drop their siblings' carapace they were gnawing on that she hadn’t looked twice at the wicked-sharp horn in that vessel’s eager grasp. She needed to confiscate it. 

But when she broke through the other side of the stone wall and stepped out into Greenpath, only to be met by the Hunter looming with claws at the ready, she knew she had bigger things to worry about. 

(The Pale King is able to track down and reunite with the vessels while Ghost is away hunting... at least at first:)

The vessels all crept forward in their own time, until he was able to hand them the rest of the loaf to pick at to their content. He counted them— eleven in total, ranging in height from his knee to his waist. Eleven survivors. Eleven children to take home and ensure they’d recover from their early years. 

Oran felt a small weight lift from his chest. 

And then he heard a blood-chilling shriek, shot to place himself between the sound and the children, and he was slammed into the cavern wall with a resounding crack. 

Oran was not an idiot. He heard that shriek start as a growl that sounded like a blade dragging across ice, like an echo of the language of wyrms, and he knew it meant get away. He was not an idiot. But by the gods was he stupid sometimes. 

He snapped to his feet, ready to fight a vengefly king and lead it away from where his children stood on unsteady legs, hungry and weak— easy pickings. His stomach dropped when he saw not an apex predator, but a bug with a pitch black shell rushing towards them. A lance of light sprung into his hands without a thought, but he couldn’t move fast enough, it had already closed the distance—

—And looped its wyrm-like tail in careful coils around the children, then roared at him in a primal rumble he understood on instinct: If you draw any closer to my young, I’ll kill you.

A god— no, a goddess. A goddess with a shell like midnight, eyes like suns, claws like scythes, horns like castle spires. And she was hunched low to the ground, terrified, trembling as she bared her teeth at him. The Lord of Shades, reborn.

(Ghost threatens the Pale King for a good few paragraphs when he thanks her for protecting the vessels before he could rescue them.)

A pale-shelled head popped up from over the coils, shortly followed by all of its fellows. One small vessel chirped— chirped— at the goddess, who simply rumbled tightly and nudged them back down with her cheek, keeping her eyes on Oran. For every wide-eyed vessel that she hid away, two popped back up, intent to watch what was happening outside their guardian’s coils. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that his life was being threatened by the newly reborn Lord of Shades with the sight of his children peering up at him excitedly from where they perched in her coils. Adorable, the father within him remarked when one of them pointed and waved. Horrifying, the survivor within him said when the Lord of Shades fixed a vicious glare upon him as he reached out to them. 

The one-horned vessel raised the loaf of bread he gave them and prodded the Lord’s cheek with it. She bared her teeth at Oran, eyes still trained on him, until the vessel tapped her top-most coil and trilled irritably at her. She pouted at them, no longer wearing the face of a feral beast ready to rip him limb from limb, but rather an exhausted elder sibling being pestered by their junior. “What?”

The one-horned vessel held the loaf of bread over their head excitedly. 

“Where did y—?” She glanced at Oran narrowly. “And it didn’t make you sick?”

The vessel shook their head, patting her coil happily. They pointed to Oran and bounced up and down, and the bewilderment in her face deepened.

He took the opportunity to speak. “They’re starving. I brought them food. Please, I intend to take them home to my palace to be cared for. I don’t know why you’ve decided that they belong to you—” She bristled, growling at him once more. “— but it’s clear that they recognize me as their kin. They deserve to be with their family. Be reasonable.”

She paused, expression crossed with grief, and sat back on her haunches while relaxing the coils of her tail. The vessels clambered out and gathered around her legs to chirrup gently at her. She stooped down to sweep them into her arms and stand at her full height, towering over Oran as she spoke to them. “Are you sure?” She asked the larger one as they shrugged and moved to perch on her shoulder. “He’s not… he isn’t…” One nudged her jaw with their brow, and she returned the gesture of affection. “No,” she sighed. “No. I don’t like him. He hurt me. He hurt us.”

One small vessel hopped down from her arms and cautiously stepped toward Oran, holding something that didn’t quite fit under their cloak. They held it out, revealing a long, jagged, midnight-colored horn, snapped off near the base— and pointed to the goddess, posture hesitant in its silent question. He furrowed his brow. The tinier vessel pointed again, more insistently this time. It was then that Oran noticed the goddess, who still stood speaking to the vessels perched atop her, was missing a horn on the left side of her head. The dots connected. 

He accepted the horn from the vessel, then turned to the goddess. “I am able to repair your horn, if you’d like.”

She gaped at him, silent for a moment. “You… really?”

Motioning for her to kneel, he wove Soul around his fingers in a spell of mending. She shrugged the vessels off and slowly bowed her head into reach. He held the broken-off horn in place with one hand and traced the break with the fingertips of the other, murmuring the incantation to fuse it together under his breath. The carapace snapped back into place, and the goddess flinched away. 

"That was a seal of binding," she said. 

He quirked a brow. "I suppose one could describe it as such." 

Baring her fangs, she hissed, "If you ever work those spells near any of us, I'll swallow you whole."

(Ghost accidentally reveals that she is related to the Pale King during her explanation of how she stitched together time in a way that would mend the damage he did. The Pale King awkwardly changes the subject.)

The vessels finished their game and stood up to cluster around the god’s legs, tugging on her cloak and asking to be picked up. 

“What are their names?” He found himself asking. If what she said were true, perhaps the goddess had picked up his own tendency to dodge questions. 

She knelt down to let the vessels climb onto her back and shoulders, perch between her horns and crawl into her many arms. When she stood, her expression was dark. “They have none.”

“And yours?”

The goddess leveled him with an icy glare. “I am the Forsaken, Failure, Refuse and Regret, Master of Dreams, She Who Swallowed the Sun, Lord of Shades, God of Gods. I knew no name until the Daughter of the Beast branded me with one. I am the monument to my sire’s sins. I am the Ghost of Hallownest.”

Oran buried the dread that bubbled up at that damnation of a name and waved over a servant to ready the royal tram. 

A child named after the things he’d done in another life. Things he would have done in this life, had she not swallowed the sun. A child who had slain his greatest enemy, and would not hesitate to cut him down as well should he prove himself anything other than tolerable. 

He had so much to explain to his Root when he returned.

(Ghost + TPK + the vessels travel to the White Palace and meet the White Lady, who is confused by TPK introducing Ghost as Hollow's twin)

The White Lady’s brow furrowed. She idly rubbed the back of her knuckles over the branching-horns vessel’s cheek as she spoke. “Dear one, Calla’s not even a quarter of this bug’s size, nor do they look remotely alike. Forgive me my skepticism.” 

Ghost looked down at herself. It hadn’t occurred to her how different she looked now— she’d actually been enjoying her new height and shell. But maybe… 

Ghost shrugged the vessels perched on her back onto the ground. The King and Lady snapped to look at her when she abruptly burst into Void, leaving scattered pieces of carapace in her wake, only to reform as her old self. It hurt, being in this ill-fitting shell again, but she stayed in it long enough for recognition to dawn on both of their faces, then snapped her new shell’s pieces back into place over her Void. 

“Oh, stars,” the Lady gasped. “She looks just like she said.”

The King had gone paler than normal, if that were possible, and stood in silence, shaking. 

“Dear Life, Calla needs to hear this. My Wyrm, you’ve sent for her, haven’t you?”

“Not… yet?” He choked out, remarkably undignified. 

“Go, then, Oran, she deserves to know.” She watched him until he staggered out of the chamber, nodding once he left. And then those sapphire eyes were back on Ghost. “Is something the matter, child?”

“You… have arms,” she blurted out, recalling the White Lady’s bindings in the old world. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You can see us? And— and the room?”

“I’m not blind, little one. And I’d be rather disappointed if I were. I’m beyond relieved to see your faces.”

“And you know I’m impure?”

The Lady’s eyes widened, brows drawing up in concern, lips pressed into a thin line. “Oh, child,” she breathed. She reached out to Ghost, cupping the side of her mask with a gentle hand. “Child, you’re no less pure than I am.”

(The White Lady didn’t care much for Ghost’s presence beyond reminding her of the King. Ghost had gone through so much, traveled so far, fought so hard to be nothing like him, and the White Lady mistook her for her father the second that she entered the dusty chamber. The White Lady looked down on the Grimmchild with open disdain, told him that the very earth rejected him with good reason, and told Ghost to destroy the charm that gave him life while she still could. The White Lady didn’t see Ghost, she saw a vessel, and she told her to cut down Hollow and take the failure’s place.)

Yeah. Yeah, that was a wonderful compliment. Ghost took the branching-horned vessel out of her arms a little too snappishly to be subtle, and the vessel voiced his protests through the Void. Ghost ignored them. “Where will we be staying?”

“There’s a guest chamber in my and my Wyrm’s wing of the Palace. Though we’ll have to build more rooms so each of you have your own in the future, I’m afraid.”

“We’d prefer to stay together,” Ghost scoffed. Was it really not obvious with how the other vessels clung to her and each other? 

The White Lady led them to a chamber that had obviously been tidied recently— everything inside glittering with cleanliness— and Ghost slammed the door in the Lady’s face.

(TPK ruminates on Hollow describing a sibling making the climb to reach him alongside her:)

Oran took the long elevator ride up the Watcher’s Spire in stride. He was handling this with inexplicable grace and majesty. And by that, he meant he was pacing circles in the narrow space and fighting off a panic attack.

Calla had spoken of a twin when she was younger and still learning to sign. It was difficult to understand what she was attempting to get across with such frantic, disjointed signs and spotty grammar, and in the years following she seemed to have either forgotten about the issue or given up on trying to explain it.

(But Oran wouldn’t— couldn’t— forget. Not the way the grub phrased it. “Calla-Two stop climb. Down. Big crunch. Quiet.” Confusing as it was, it settled like ice in his stomach. Something horrible had happened. He knew it. He found Calla drawing the next week, several pages of vessel-shaped blobs of colors scattered across the floor, and the room spun around him when he spotted a page showing a vessel very much like Calla clinging to the lip of the final overhang, Calla standing above them, and Oran himself off to the side. He was there when it happened. There was a vessel that nearly finished the climb with Calla, that he could have taken home, and he hadn’t noticed.

(And now that vessel had returned, and she hated him. Poetic justice, he supposed.)

The elevator stopped. He stepped into the Watcher’s office.

(The vessels explore the room they're staying in at the White Palace:)

The vessels took one look at the massive, fluffy bed in the guest chamber and decided they didn’t like it. The chorus of sleepy confusion that tumbled through the Void was as hilarious as it was exhausting.

“Why is it squishy?”

“It feels weird.”

“Why does it smell like that?”

“What’s it for?”

“I’m tired.”

“Can we go to the Abyss? I wanna sleep.”

“We are not going to the Abyss.”

“But I’m tired!”

“Me too.”

After watching her siblings toss and turn in a struggle for comfort, Ghost tore off the sheets and untucked the downy comforter and pillows so she could stuff them under the bed. When the comforter in particular brushed up against the weary group of vessels, she could hear them gasp in awe at how nice it felt. They chirped excitedly as they tangled themselves up in the blanket, squishing it in their hands as they marveled at how something this soft could exist. And then one of them touched the silk sheets and they all lost every last one of their collective marbles.

“It’s too bright in here.” Ah. That was a fair point. Even with the curtains drawn and the lights out, the Palace managed to be significantly lighter than the Abyss. She blamed it on everything being white. The vessels wandered the room for a while longer before deciding that the only logical place to sleep was on the floor beneath the bed itself.

(Ghost saves Tiso from an unexpected strike, and Tiso has no filter, much to Quirrel's exasperation:)

Ghost lowered her outstretched arm, waiting until the vengefly skewered on her claws stopped squirming to uncurl herself from around a stunned Tiso. 

He looked from the vengefly, to Ghost, to the arm still wrapped around his middle, and back again. “Not gonna lie, that was pretty hot.”

“Tiso!” Came Quirrel’s exasperated shriek.

(Ghost stumbles across Hollow and TPK while walking around the White Palace, and Ghost has some emotions about the sudden reunion with Hollow and a revelation about TPK's character:)

The King halted abruptly when Ghost rounded a corner and nearly bowled him over, and she was so busy glaring at him that she hadn’t noticed the Hollow Knight in his shadow. 

There she was.

Hollow— no, Calla. She was alive, and safe, and she had paint and charcoal smeared on her mask. Ghost hunched in on herself to be closer to her sister’s height (how weird it was, to be the tall one all of a sudden) and reached out shakily. 

Then the Pale King stepped between them, and she was tempted to take off his head for that, until she saw his face. His jaw was set, and he tilted his head in such a way that showed… something. She couldn’t figure out what he was trying to communicate. But then a small hand took hold of his, and it became clear. 

Calla had tucked herself behind him, peering out from his side, tightly gripping his hand, obviously frightened.

Ghost had scared her. 

Ghost was scaring her. 

She decided at that moment that she hated being the tall one. 

She dropped into a shadow on the wall, mind alight with shame and anger at herself, shaking. 

The Pale King said something to Calla. She nodded and left down the corridor on her own, a little too quickly to be at ease with her surroundings. And then the King turned to the shadow Ghost had tucked herself into. Apparently she wasn’t being as subtle as she thought with her shadow-travel if he knew exactly where she was then. 

“I need some time to break the news,” he murmured. “She has a lot on her mind at the moment. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” 

“If you wouldn’t show your smaller form, I believe it would be easier on…”

“It hurts to stuff myself back in there anyway.”

“Thank you.”

Silence. 

“Is that all, or—?”

“You won’t show her that vision,” he said, voice suddenly sharp and clear and indisputable. Ghost hadn’t ever heard him speak as a king before, never heard him announce decrees and demands, but she could see him doing so in that tone. 

“That vision,” she echoed. 

“The one that I cannot sponge from my mind no matter how I try. The one that has haunted every last one of my waking hours. You will never show it to her, you will never discuss it with her, you will never so much as allude to it around her. If you feel so inclined to be cruel enough to touch on what happened in that gods-forsaken moment, you will choose me as your victim. Not her, nor her mother, nor the other children.”

“It affected you,” Ghost observed. 

His glare was icy. “And how did you expect I would react, if not by being affected?”

“To shrug it off. To brush it aside. To ignore it.”

“She’s my daughter. My flesh and blood, pride and joy, and you thought I would ignore seeing her do that?”

Ghost let the light of her eyes shine through the shadow. “Forgive me, I should have spoken more clearly— I expected you to look me in the face and say there was no cost too great.”

He fell silent. 

“I wouldn’t dream of doing what you described. I swallowed the sun, yes, but I didn’t inherit her cruelty, Pale King. I stitched this world together so my sister could be happy. Void swallow me whole if I’m the one to ruin that.”

He sighed, long and heavy, and strode away. Ghost slipped into his shadow as he passed. 

“… I scared her.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t want to.”

He didn’t reply.

“If I can’t use my old shell, how am I supposed to not scare her?”

“Don’t approach her.”

“She’s my twin.” Ghost barely kept from wailing indignantly. “I can’t just sit here and… The last time I saw her, she was barely clinging to life, and not willingly. I want to talk to her!”

He paused at that. “She survived the…” He swallowed dryly. “The attempt?”

“We weren’t going to let her die before she ever had the chance to live. I channeled all the Soul in the area into healing her, and Hornet—”

“Hornet?”

“You might know her as the Gendered Child, depending how far along we are in this world.”

“No. Nettie— Hornet was with you when that happened?”

Oh. His voice was tighter than she realized. The clipped element of his tone wasn’t anger. It was fear. 

Ghost squirmed. The shadows felt claustrophobic all of a sudden. “… She didn’t stay away. She said she would,” Ghost murmured. “She didn’t want to stand by like she did when her mother…”

The Pale King took a sharp left as he walked, locked himself in an empty council room, and sobbed. 

Ghost began to understand, seeing his glow brighten and brighten until the whole room was nothing but white light as he choked on his tears, that this wasn’t her sire. He was a sire, yes, but also a father. One who wept at the thought of his children suffering and being abandoned, let alone dying or witnessing each other’s deaths. He was a sire so unlike hers. She’d been placing her grudges and burdens onto someone who didn’t deserve it. 

(And that is why she was so like him. So like him that when she visited her mother that’s all she saw. So like him that his enemy thought her a disguise he’d taken on. So like him that she was following his every step.) 

Ghost left him to weep.

(Ghost gets into a scuffle with the Nightmare King and wakes up with the same injuries she gained during her dream:)

Promptly expelled from the Nightmare Realm, Ghost jerked awake on the floor under a massive bed and curled around her little siblings as they snored softly. She reluctantly rose and walked the castle grounds, staring at the gashes, gouges, and burns running all the way up her arm. She’d have to explain this to someone at some point. How would she phrase it? Would she just bluntly state that her tendency to pick fights had risen to threatening gods now? Yeah, that wouldn’t send anyone panicking. 

She was so numb with exhaustion that she didn’t notice the Pale King in the corridor across from her. They locked eyes. Neither moved until he glanced down at the arm she was favoring. He wordlessly reached out a hand in offering. 

Silence. 

She drew over to him and knelt closer to his height, then placed her arm in his reach. His brow knit together in worry as he traced his fingers over the wounds, never touching, just hovering over them. He reached for another pair of arms, and it was then that Ghost realized the palms of this pair were badly burned from when she strangled Nightmare. She hadn’t even noticed. 

He spun Soul around his hand in a luminescent glove. The Pale King didn’t lift his head all the way to ask if he could help, simply glanced up warily. Questioningly. Ghost nodded. 

He healed the wounds in silence. It was obvious what had inflicted them, and he couldn’t erase scars made by a god. They both knew that. But it was painfully clear that he was trying. He passed over the mended burns several times, and Ghost recognized the words he mouthed as a spell to change something’s colors. Nothing returned the singed-white claw marks in her shell to their original black. He tried so many times, but the spell bounced off the scars uselessly with each attempt. Finally, long after Ghost had accepted his efforts were futile, he tucked his arms back into his robes, shaking his head slowly, mouthparts working in frustration. 

Ghost was the one to walk away. She could feel the King's eyes on her until she passed the corner, and it was only then that she heard him turning away.

(TPK and Ghost have a chat, and Sofie has a favorite trope that is totally not used here at all:)

“How old are you?” The Pale King asked. 

That gave Ghost pause. “Strange thing to ask a god, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps if the god in question had ascended more than a few months ago, but not in this situation, no.” He looked her up and down. “This form looks significantly older than you behave, and it’s also the form every Lord of Shades would take while walking among mortals. It’s not clear what age you truly are.”

Ghost had to consider that. “I must be an adult by now. As for numbered years, though, I don’t know.”

“You don’t—? What do you mean?”

“Hallownest was in stasis when I entered it. There was no way to mark the passage of time, and it seemed like most things were… blurry. They could age, but not correctly. Some didn't age at all. And before I set foot in the kingdom, I was in the Wastes outside it. That lends itself even less to a good estimate of how old I am”

“If you had a caretaker, I’m certain they would have an estimate.”

“I was on my own until halfway through Hallownest.”

“Gods,” he hissed under his breath. “What world did you live in where a child was left to fend for themself and fight wars on their parents’ behalf?”

“Same world where a child cut down every last member of the Pantheons.” She gave him a narrow look. “I wasn’t an ordinary grub—” 

“No, because you never had the chance to be one. I’ve heard of children being forced to mature too soon, but to ascend to godhood because of the pressure heaped on you…”

“I got the job done.”

“And what did you pay for it?”

“My life for the kingdom. It wasn’t very much.”

“I’d think that’s far too great a cost to pay from any child’s purse, even one capable of swallowing the sun.”

She froze. 

“You were a child,” he murmured, “no matter how old that stasis made you. You were meant to laugh and play, and to be swaddled and doted on— not to kill a primeval goddess simply so others could have that basic right you’d been deprived of.”

[gay-jesus-probably]

Hey.

You have successfully made me have a full-blown existential breakdown with your statement that Tears of the Kingdom's story is imperialist propaganda, so thanks for that. But I have a question if you have the time.

From your posts, I can tell that you've finished the game. But I don't see anywhere that you've spoken on the post credit scene. So I have to ask, what did you think of it?

Before you answer, I'm going to try and predict what you will say: you were disgusted and horrified that the present-day sages (two of whom are children or at the very least minors) echoed the exact same "allegiance" speech, and Zelda accepted it with a smile.

Am I correct?

...Oh my god I totally forgot to talk about That Scene.

YEAH YOU FUCKING NAILED IT MY DUDE LMAOOO, I WAS SCREAMING IN DISGUST THE WHOLE TIME. The whole story had already been SO bad I really didn't think they could possibly make it worse at that point, I was just like what are we doing here, yeeting Mineru into the void? Fucking fantastic, still have no idea what she was even here to begin with, please go away now Mineral you have contributed nothing to this team or to this story - hey, what the fuck are you doing WHAT ARE YOU DOING STOP TALKING NO FUCK NO NO NO-

Like, I got to the whole ancient sages swearing loyalty to Rauru scene BEFORE I'd realized how fucked the game really was. I was still accepting the surface reading in good faith at that point! But that whole thing was enough to make me extremely grossed out, even accepting it at face value. So to have them repeat that clusterfuck at the end? Jesus christ, it was just the final kick in the dick to solidify my hatred of Zelda and her entire family. This is why I tried to drop her to her death at the end lmaooooo.

My Link is just, furiously building a guillotine in the background the whole time. I'm so done with this bitch.

Also like even putting aside the ethics of Tulin being a literal child (and possibly also Riju, unclear as to what age she is now), but jesus CHRIST, Riju and Sidon are literally the leaders of their people! They are the heads of state! WHY ARE THEY SWEARING ETERNAL SERVITUDE TO THE RULER OF A DIFFERENT COUNTRY. WHY IS ZELDA JUST ACCEPTING THIS AS SOMETHING SHE IS OWED. FUCKING DISGUSTING.

I expected the ending to be miserable, but this was so much worse than I was prepared for. What a final 'fuck you' to everyone that isn't a goddamn bootlicker.

[elizmanderson]

ask me anything

just gonna yeet another ama into the void so I can answer the questions of the like two friends who will see it and go :eyes: and throw questions at me. click here to send asks.

but in case you are not one of those two friends and are like, "I'd love to ask you some shit but idk you/idk enough about you to know what to ask," here's some shit to know

debut novel The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fisher is about an 83-year-old who leaves the nursing home for fantastical adventure when she learns she's the chosen one. she loves knitting and adopting all the young people in the book. also there are dragons. click here for more.

sophomore novel The Keeper of Lonely Spirits (2025) is about an old man cursed with immortality who sends troublesome spirits packing rather than making mortal friends who will die one day, but whoops his hand slips and now he cares about some folk. shit. what to do?? he's gonna try to gay I mean go. I'd say click here for more but there is no more because this book doesn't come out until 2025.

I also have several short stories published, mostly fantastical and bordering vaguely on horror. click here for more.

my birthday is in two weeks and it'll be my Hobbit-coming-of-age birthday

I'm considering a tattoo for the first time in my life but am not committed yet

I keep an annual list of all the birds I more or less positively ID each year

I'm also currently working on IDing more native wildflowers and trees

I love Uncle Iroh

my latest obsession is pole fitness, which I have been doing for 10 months now, and this is best I've ever felt about my body

[ips-northstar-official]

One of the members of the local Drake Division that we formed has decided to heavily modify his company-issue frame. So far, he has installed afterburners, a flight system, and tweaked his entire frame to maximize speed output in pursuit of: "The forbidden Fast Drake" The results have been terrifying, and the rumors lately have been that he is considering implementing the spatial-warping technologies of the Sunzi frame of HA fame.

Finally; he has convinced the entirety of the black-witch squad provided by SSC to utilize ferrous lashes on him to "Yeet me into the fight faster!" As company commander, my first question is has he voided the warranty yet, and will adding aforementioned spatial-warping tech do so?

Question 2 is whether the drake frame can handle being repeatedly exposed to SSC ferrous lashes in every battle.

Our final question is whether or not we should consider promoting him for his ingenuity.

Best regards, CPT Markus Wright - 2nd Bulwark division, Aradian militia

Hello CPT Wright!

First of all, the intern again wishes to thank you for “the funniest shit I’ve heard all week”. We are now vaguely concerned they plan to pass this idea on to their lancemates, but ultimately they are out of our control.

To answer your questions, you most definitely have not voided the warranty! IPS-N’s lifetime guarantee includes all modifications an end-user may choose to make, and while the Drake wasn’t built with speed in mind, it certainly has the structural strength to take whatever you throw at it.

We can’t speak for whether or not SSC’s Ferrous Lash will pull the massive bulk of a Drake (you should ask them @ssc-official), but if it is capable of pulling the Drake then the Drake is more than capable of standing up to it.

In the words of the intern, “promote that motherfucker immediately,” so we’ll leave that to your better judgment. Best of luck!

[suzteel]

[yeets this into the void because this is not what my brain is supposed to be working on right now]

Teacher AU! where Pete is one of Macau’s teachers that Macau clearly develops a bit of crush on where he’s talking about Pete all the time to Vegas. And Vegas grows a little concerned about said crush because he’s never seen Macau take to a person so quickly and decides this teacher needs to be paid a visit so that Vegas can assess Pete for himself and warn him off if he’s any sort of threat to Macau.

Anyway Vegas shows up after school one day (careful to make sure Macau doesn’t see him) and he slips into the classroom hoping to startle Pete as an intimidation tactic. Except he’s the one surprised when Pete just calmly looks up from his work, takes one sweeping one at him, and bursts into a blindingly bright smile. “Hello, you must be Kuhn Vegas, Macau’s brother.”

Because of course Pete is going to recognize Vegas on sight with the way Macau talks about him in school. Macau is always telling the other students fantastical stories about things his older brother has supposedly done. Or at least Pete had always supposed the stories were fantastical when he heard them, assuming many of them were exaggerated boy’s tales where the more brutal and violent, the cooler things seem.

Except Pete gets one look at Vegas lurking in his classroom and immediately knows that if anything, Macau undersold what his brother was capable of (becauseMacau is smart enough to know what he can and can’t say anyway). It’s obvious Vegas is a dangerous, dangerous man.

But for every tale of brutality he told about him, it’s also obvious Macau loves his older brother and is loved and cared for in return by him (Pete’s not too sure about the father, Macau doesn’t talk about him much—though you know this an AU maybe Gun is dead and Vegas has been raising Macau alone).

It all adds up to a very intriguing individual—and a very attractive one at that. And Pete’s honest enough with himself to realize he is suddenly very interested in learning more about him.

Meanwhile, Vegas is momentarily knocked off his ass by that smile, and covers for his reaction to it by getting suspicious about how Pete knows who he is.

Cue Vegas being all menacing to start off with and Pete just not being cowed in the slightest, doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t back away when Vegas attempts to invade his space, questions all of Vegas’s questions and vague threats frankly.

If Pete’s betraying any nervousness at all, it’s not because he’s afraid of Vegas.

But of course he knows who Vegas is, Macau talks of him often. And Macau is a good kid overall, needs to focus more on his studies though (and Pete knows Vegas agrees with him, Macau sometimes grumbles about his brother not letting him do things until his schoolwork is done).

And Vegas quickly finds himself charmed and intrigued by this man in front of him, who isn’t intimated by him, and clearly cares about his students and is fond of Macau in particular. And Vegas begins to understand why his brother loves this guy so much. And finds himself flirting back (because Pete’s clearly been flirting the whole damn time).

And maybe there’s a moment when the mood shifts entirely. Maybe Pete’s telling an amusing story about Macau that makes Vegas huff out a laugh. Maybe he says something about Macau being a bit of a brat.

And maybe Pete responds with “Well, I was a bit of a brat at his age too.”

And maybe Vegas’s gaze sharpens, like a shark sensing blood in the water. Maybe he closes the distance between them (which hasn’t been very large at all this whole time to start with) with a dangerous smirk and asks, “Was?”

And maybe they end up fucking right then and there on the desk. The same one Pete will have to look at every day and remember.

Anyway, Macau’s a bit pissed at first when he finds out Vegas is fucking his favorite teacher, but he quickly realizes that Vegas is for the first time in his life completely and totally in love and this basically makes Pete his brother now. Macau calls that a win.

[candylovesans-officialaskblog]

do you know who gaster is?

"oh wait, come to think of it, i was asked this question before!"

"The person who asked me was a weird blue moth dude. he had a creepy smile, and seemed to be perpetually crying."

"he asked me if i knew anything about Gaster or his whereabouts. I still have no idea what was going on, or who Gaster is."

"I asked sans about it. He knows everyone in the Underground, but he wouldn't answer. Weird, right?"

[omi-papus]

I realized that Robin inngame becomes infinitly more tolerable and fun if you just think of her as kind of a dumbass. Like ok listen I dont know what the fuck is up with her voice lines. Like hers specifically. Everyone elses dialogue is pretty alright and even great. But something about Robin just does not click. Shes presented as this badass, marvel esque strong female character tm. Not to an unberable degree. Shes fine. But I feel like when I first played I only tolerated Robin when Al-An was stuck to her, because she would bring interesting things out of him. And it felt off sometimes. The worst bit Id say is, "How do humans cope with the loss of memories? Like forgeting someones birthday?" Like girl, this is clearly some existencial shit this man is on, get a grip.

Now, everytime I play and she says some shit like that, I go, "Sure sweetie. You go do that" And thats what got me to like her. Like to just think shes as a person is just out of touch as fuck actually makes sense with everything a lot more. Like yhea shed yeet herself into an alien planet with no way out just to comfirm a suspicion because she dosent like a company and cant accept the idea someone she loves isnt a perfect angel. All her brain holds is plant facts, you think she can make good choices? Yhea shed really just recite poetry to an alien expecting him to understand, without even knowing the damn thing in full. Girl is 90% pure unfiltered emotion and cant explain abstract concepts worth shit. Homegirl will really meet an alien thats like, "I wont explain who I am or my intentions but get me out of her real quick" and INSTANTLY be like "Bet, get your ass in this iPad". (Granted she didnt want to go as far as she did with the whole brain situation and she was rushed but still, not even panic.) Shed be the friend that everyone goes to when thyre in truble, because shell agree to murder without asking question if she digs your vibe. OF COURSE Robin will genuenly unpromted go "Hey that new body of yours in kind of making me feel something, Imma just give you the rest of my life and follow you into the void of space, leaving everything else behind k?" Bitch has never had a plan in her life, you think shes going to start now? She sees some alien ass and all else is irrelevant.

It also works with the gameplay, cause like idk about you but in Below Zero it felt like everything was yelling, "Hey, you have 30 seconds of oxigen. How about you go into that cave at the bottom of the ocean floor I bet theres cool shit in there." And sure enough I did.

And like, you have any idea how little self preservation biologists can have? Robin is the girl that will lick the frog to test if its poisonous, shes the one that does the pain tests for insect bites. She can and will manhandle a hipo because she wants to see the inside of its mouth.

This is so not what the game intended but I love waterlogged brain Robin and I will deny canon til the end of days.