#in the notes** I’m on mobile so I’m assuming it’s just a bug

[fagkermit]

[juulle987]

THRONE OF WOLVES

I’m scared of loosing you

⋆ ✶ ★ ☾ ★ ✶ ⋆ Fenrys Moonbeam x Niamh

summary: Hiking is fun, especially in the lovely nature of the Lake District, England, UK. But what if all of the sudden a portal opens and you find yourself in the world of ToG? 

words: 4.2k

warnings: angst, mentions of mental health problems, fluff fluff fluff, Maeve’s a bitch, nudeness, Fenrys Moonbeam (that male is so hot, he’s a warning in himself)

note: English is not my first language, so apologise for any mistakes. This one shot may turn into a little story. Depending on how I feel.

One last time I check if I’ve got everything for today’s hike. Enough water. Food and snacks. Sun cream. Very important. First aid kit. Mobile phone. Power bank. Smart watch. All charged and ready to go. Shades. A change of clothes, and clothes in case it gets rainy or cold. Which I highly doubt, but you never know. You never know. I decided to hike my way up from the town centre in Keswick to Surprising View. It should take me one and a half to two hours. So yeah, not too long but one of the most beautiful hikes I’ve ever been on. It’s the last week of my summer holidays and I want to make the most of it before I go back to work. Hearing children cry, scream, poo and wee all the time. Gods, I love working in a nursery. 

Before I leave the Royal Oak Hotel I make sure to book a table for tonight. I’ll be starving. I’ll need food.

I make my way up to Surprising View, and already the hike there is amazing. I just love being in the nature. It is a usually hot day and so I have to do a few more breaks than I intended to. I sit down by a small stream, take my flask out of my rucksack and take a big drink of water. This was so well needed. As I look around I can’t help but admire the beauty of the nature. Bees. Butterflies. Bugs. If I could I would move far far away, in the middle of nowhere. Just me, myself and I. But as I can’t, I’m enjoying moments like this even more.

After a while I get up and continue my way. When I finally arrive at Surprising View the view is literally taking my breath away. As it always does. No matter how often I come here. I already know where I want to sit down and have a break. Read a bit. Eat and drink something. On my way there I walk along all the trees until I reach a twin tree. Two trees grown together as they are so close together. I decide to walk straight through them. I’m even thinking about bringing a hammock the next time and putting it in between these two. It would make an amazing relaxing place for me. 

As soon as I step through the trees something feels off. I can still see my surroundings but they seem to be blurred out. It stills feels as I’m here, but somehow not. I blink once and all of a sudden I’m surrounded by forest. A different forest than it was on my way here. It’s quiet. Too quiet. I turn around to try to walk through the trees again, but they are gone. I must be dreaming. That’s the only explanation I’ve got. I hear some weird noises and it’s clear that this is definitely not a dream. I’m sweating even more. Not knowing where I am. Or what the hell is going on. I take my phone out of my pocket - no service. Of course. After a moment of contemplating I decide to make my way out of this forest. After about twenty minutes of walking I end up in an open clearing. In front of a small hill. Well, that’s a start. This at least means that somewhere around someone must live. At least I really hope so. I walk uphill and as soon as I’m standing a top, I see a huge villa? No, that’s too small for a villa. A castle? I’ve never seen a castle before, but I assume that by the size… It’s huge. Did I already say that?  I see something that looks like a street and decide to follow it towards the castle. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? As I approach the gates, which are golden, of course, I can finally hear other voices. My heart jumps in my chest at the prospect of help. I start going faster, making my way closer and closer to my current destination.

Just as I was about to walk through the gates, a huge white wolf appears in front of me. All I can see are his beautiful onyx coloured eyes. And for whatever reason I’m not even afraid of him. Do I like wolves? Yes. Do I even have a wolf tattoo all over my left arm? Also yes. Do I just want to get closer to him and snuggle myself into his fur? Fuck yes.

“Who are you?” 

Did- did the wolf just speak? I feel like getting dizzy. The world around me blurring. I can’t seem to concentrate on one point to calm myself down. That’s when I see the wolf turning into a human being. 

Next thing I know is me waking up in an unknown bed. As soon as I opened my eyes, I want to close them again. It’s just too bright in here. Protectively I put a hand over my eyes to let them adjust.  Even though my eyes don’t want to work, my eyes work perfectly. I can make out several voices. Men and women. 

“Who is she?” “Where does she come from?” “Why is she here? Have you had any letters, Aelin?” “No, I did not, Rowan. Did you?” “Where exactly did you find her, Fenrys?” “At the gates. She was just walking around. Trying to go through.” “I didn’t just try to walk through!” I spit. Not able to contain any of my emotions. I slowly open my eyes. I’m greeted with a women with blonde hair, dressed in, what I suppose, are training clothes. A man with white hair. His entire left side of his face covered in tattoos. And next to him…

“You are the wolf.” “You’re quite clever, little one, aren’t you?” “Well, I’m trying my best after being thrown into”, I point around at my surroundings, “this. Where am I even? And who are you?” “Why don’t you answer our questions first?” It was the wolf man speaking again. For fox’s sake! What are we playing here? Ringelpiez mit anfassen oder was? I roll my eyes and nod. “Who are you?” “Niamh.” “Of?” ”What do you mean of?” “Where are you from?”  “Lancaster. England. United Kingdom.” “Where on earth is that?”

I wondered if they really are that stupid or if they are Americans.

“In Europe. You know, the continent?”

All I see is them looking at me as if I’d be nuts.

“How did you get here?”

So I tell them the story. All three of them just look at me. Not able to say anything.  Until Aelin finally breaks the silence: “So you are telling us you came through a portal and that you’re from a different world?”

I nod.

“Do you remember where it was?” Asks Rowan.

“In the forest? When I turned around to go through it again, it was gone. Look, I’m really sorry to put of all you through this trouble. I will just get my things and leave. Thank you for your hospitality.” I make to get up, out of bed. I make my way over to my things and shoulder my rucksack. Just as I’m about to leave, Fenrys grabs me by my arm. I look up at him and once again am fascinated by his onyx eyes. They seem to draw me in closer. A feeling I’ve never felt before. He looks down my sleeve tattoo and his eyes stay at the wolf head. Then his eyes go up to mine again and he says “You’re staying.”

🐺

It has been nearly a year since I ended up in Orynth. Terrassen. Erilea. A world full of wonders. Fae. Demi-Fae. Fae warriors. Witches. Whatnot. Whenever she’s got time Aelin teaches me. So does Rowan. I met all of Aelin’s family and friends. Hence how I know about witches and all that kind of stuff. But the one that is constantly by my side - and in my mind - is Fenrys. He really helped me adapting to the situation. To settle into this new world. I can’t deny that I’ve grown close to him. It’s like… 

Something nudges me on my cheek before liking a big stripe down my face. I’m currently lying in the grass, enjoying the sunshine during this wonderful warm summer day. I open my eyes to see Fenrys sitting next to me. His white fur gleaming in the sun. A cocky smile on his face. I motion for him to lay down too, and as he does he puts his head on my chest. Demanding that I caress his head. This are the moments I enjoy the most. Just knowing that he’s here. 

“I had a child yesterday at work… Holy!” Fenrys looks up as to tell me to continue.  “They injured another child so badly, we had to call in a healer. Not to mention that their parents were more than just furious.” Once again Fenrys nudges me.  “I know it wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t even in the room when it happened. But I still feel responsible.”

A gleam of light indicates that Fenrys is turning back into his Fae form. Butt naked. I roll my eyes and take one of his underwear shorts out of my bag to throw it at him.

“Last night you had no problems seeing me naked.”  “Because you’re always naked. And you had a nightmare. Do you really think in that situation I only got eyes for your dick?” I raise an eyebrow, looking straight at him. He’s still holding his underpants in his hands. His abs beautifully sculptured. Muscles in all the right places. That sexy V-line going down his hips to his private area… I have to bite my lower lip not to act on some primal urge.

“Certainly you’ve got that now.” Fenrys replies with a wink. “Because he’s pointing straight at me.” His cock is standing in attention. I can’t deny that it isn’t a sight I don’t like to indulge in. But maybe not necessarily here in public.

“He likes you just as much as his owner.”

I can feel my cheeks blush. Fenrys and I - we are friends. He helped me to get acquainted with this new live and I help him with his nightmares. It wasn’t long after I first stepped foot into this world that I heard screaming throughout the castle. It came from Fenrys’s room. When I opened the door I knew what was going on. I woke him from his nightmare and held him, all night long. While he remained in his wolf form. And it’s been like that ever since. Sometimes I feel like Fenrys is like an older brother. On the other hand I can’t deny my feelings for him. I wouldn’t dare to act on my feelings. I’m too scared that once I allow myself to open up to him, I’ll vanish through a portal again. Never to see him again.

Reluctantly he puts his boxers on and starts: “Niamh, you know you’re an amazing teacher. It is not your fault that the other staff is incapable of handling children.” “But it would’ve come back to me. As head of the department.” He sits down and takes me into his arms. As soon as his familiar scent hits me, I start to relax. “Is anything going to happen now?” His head rests on top of mine. Kissing me briefly on my head. “I have to send my staff to a special training. And for the curse of two months there always has to be someone in the room supervising my staff. Means, if I need a toilet or go for my break or have to do other things, I first have to get cover.”  “But that’s impossible.” “I know. That’s why I already thought about wearing nappies again.”

Both Fenrys and I start laughing at that. I can feel his vibrations flowing through my body. Listening to his heartbeat, smelling and feeling him, making me feel safe. Lulling me into a peaceful twenty minute nap. When I wake up my head rests on his chest. His arm wrapped around me, as my arm wrapped around his waist. My legs tangled with his. I open my eyes slowly, looking up at him. His eyes are closed but I know he’s not sleeping. All I can do is admiring his beauty. His wonderful golden locks. His nose. Those lips. I always wonder if they are as soft as I imagine them to be. The twin scars on his face. During his sleepless nights he has told me nearly all the stories about the Cadre, Maeve, Aelin and Rowan, the Valgs, about the time Aelin was in an iron coffin and Fenrys stayed by her side in his wolf form, how he got his scars and his Gavriel tattoo. The only thing he doesn’t talk about often is his twin brother. And he never talks about what Maeve did to both of them, but especially Fenrys. Nevertheless I can feel his fear and disgust each and every time he dreams of her. And each and every time I wish I could take those memories away from him. To let him finally live freely. Without the shackles of his past. 

I don’t dare to move. Just relishing in the feeling of having him so close. I’m aware what we look like and I’m also aware of what the others think. I want to tell him how much I’ve fallen for him. How much I love him. But I can’t. The constant fear of being thrown back into my own world - always present. 

“I can hear you thinking.” “I’m sorry. I should better be going anyway.” “Don’t you like me as a pillow?” I can feel the smirk on his face. “No, Fenrys Moonbeam, I love you as my personal pillow very much, thank you. But I’ve got to get ready with the other. And so do you.”Fenrys lets out a huff. Tonight is the yearly summer ball. You can compare it to midsummer in our world. But as we live in a castle, it’s more extravagant, so to speak. I try to get up but Fenrys pulls me back in. Both his hands now resting on my hips. “Will you allow me to dance with you tonight, my lady?” A smile forming across my face as I reply: “Of course, my Prince Charming.”  Our faces are so close that my heart starts beating faster. If he would kiss me now, I wouldn’t find the strength in me to resists. But instead I pull away from him, get up, gather my things and bid him goodbye. 

The room is filled with laughter, perfume, alcohol and all of Aelin’s female friends and family. Most of them are already dressed and dolled up for later. I can’t deny it, but Aelin in her golden dress just looks breathtakingly beautiful. Next to her, in my plain black dress I more feel like I’m invisible. Which I don’t necessarily mind. Less attention.

“So, are you finally going to tell Fen what you truly feel for him?” Lysandra brings me back from my thoughts into the here and now. I shake my head.  “Why not?” It is Elise asking while she puts her long hair into a braid. “I’m not from this world. What if a portal opens and I just slip through. I’d loose him, I’d loose all of you forever. I- I just can’t.” “Oh Niamh.” Now it’s Aelin speaking. “I do not know how that must feel for you. All I know is how it feels to fear not to see your loved ones ever again. If you don’t act now, you’d might regret it in the future though. No matter what your future still got in store for you.” Aelin makes me think. By now I know all the stories about how they met each other. Aelin and Rowan. Lysandra and Aedion. Elide and Lorcan. Dorian and Manon.  Elide. Lorcan. Dorian. Manon. Those four names keep repeating in my head.  Two humans. One Demi-Fae. One Witch.  The longer I think about it, the scarier it gets. Even if I should be lucky to never return to my old life, I’ll die nonetheless. Fenrys is 144 years old. I’m 27. He will live for nearly forever. I’ll die in approximately 60 years. Already now I cannot imagine a life without him anymore. How is it going to be when we’ve lived so many decades together? I have to swallow hard as not to start crying. I want to enjoy this evening. I want to dance and eat and drink. I want to have fun with my friends. Who, by now, are more like a family. With one last deep breath I straighten myself, as to signalling that I am ready to go. All together we walk from our room, in which we got ready, to the main location. It is the ball hall in the castle. For this event it has been decorated beautifully with lots and lots of fae lights, candles and flowers everywhere. The outside area is also decorated. A white fabric tent in the middle of the garden, decorated with lots of, again, fae lights and candles. Fluffy cushions and blankets are laid across the floor, making it very inviting. Some chairs, daybeds and other very comfortable looking sitting (or lying down) options have been added all around the tent. Torches all around. Making everything look like in a fairytale. Being honest this is how I feel right now. Like being in the middle of a fairytale. 

As soon as we enter the hall all eyes are on us. Or maybe just on Aelin and her dress. Which again is absolutely gorgeous. Rowan is coming closer towards his wife, taking her into his and leading her to their thrones. 

“Thank you everyone for joining us this year. As you all know I’m not a huge fan of speeches, so let the party begin!” And with that the music starts, people start dancing. Children are running around. This is amazing. All of my friends have found their partners and are either dancing, eating or having conversations with others. I look around the room but cannot seem to find Fenrys. So I make my way to the drinks. Can’t say no to a nice glass of wine. As I’m standing on the edge of the dance floor I can feel a presence coming up behind me. Shortly after I can smell the so familiar scent of him - Fenrys. His arms wrap around my waist, his head resting on my shoulder.

“You look … you just look breathtakingly beautiful.” “I’d like to say the same, but unfortunately I can’t.” He knows what I mean and twirls me around so I can face him. My breath catches in my throat for a few long seconds. He’s wearing black leather pants, a black button up shirt that reveals his muscled chest. His hair hanging over his shoulder. His too well known smirk on his lips. “Do you like what you see? Take a picture of it so it lasts longer.” We both laugh at that little joke. After I arrived here I showed him my phone and took a picture of us. One of my fondest memories. “Would you like to dance?” He holds his hand open for me. I place my glass on the table before I take his hand. He then leads me onto the dance floor, apparently just in time for a slow dance. It is by no means the first time we’ve dance together, but somehow this feels different. We are so close to each other, I can feel his breath on my skin. His one hand rests on the small of my back, while his other is holding my hand. My other hand is slung around his shoulder. In swift moves Fenrys swirls us around the dance floor. I’m so totally and completely lost in the moment that all I can see is him. Unfortunately that’s also the moment I can feel my anxiety and panic raise. It is getting harder for me to breathe. I need to get out of here. Now. I untangle myself from Fenrys’s grip and as fast as my feet can carry me I run outside. I need fresh air. I need to be able to breathe again. I find somewhere where I can be on my own. I feel like drowning. Feel like suffocating. I have to remind myself of my breathing technique:

Breathe in Breathe out for four seconds Breathe in Breathe out for seven seconds Breathe in Breathe out for ten seconds

I do this until I can feel my heart slowing down again. Allowing me to breathe again. But not for too long. Once again he is standing behind me. Watching me. And I’ve got no fucking idea what to do. I can feel that he his getting closer. Now standing right behind me. He doesn’t reach for me. He is just there.

After a while he asks so silently it’s barely a whisper: “What are you afraid of?”

I don’t have it in me to turn around. My hands are balled into fists. Then relaxing. Fists again. After calming myself down and noticing that I started crying, I turn around and face him.

“I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared that one day a portal will open. That I’ll never see you again. I’m afraid that- that I fall for you even more than I already have. I’m scared that-“ I swallow, breathing out. “I’m scared that one day I will love you even more than I already do. Just to never see you again.” My tears are flowing freely over my eyes. I’m unable to stop crying. Fenrys cups my cheeks. Wiping some of the tears away. His forehead on mind. Our noses touching. “I’ve been falling for you the moment I saw you walking through those gates. Since that day a year ago I never wanted to spend a day without you by my side. I want to spend my life with you. And even if I get to only spend a day with you, it still will be the best of my life. Niamh, I love you.” “You- you mean that?” “Each and every word. After spending a hundred years under and with Maeve, I never thought that one day I’ll be able to find - you. To find love. To find someone I can open up to. Someone who- who will be there for me. Whenever I need you, you are there. You are the one guiding me through my night terrors. Never judging me. Never pushing me. Niamh, I’m so utterly and completely lost in you. I’d be a fool to let you go.”

My hands, which were resting on his chest, now grab his shirt and my lips crash onto his. Fenrys kisses me back and the kiss turns into something more than just passion. It’s longing. Desire. Happiness. Love. Future.

Fenrys’s hands move down my body. Exploring it in a way he’s never done before. When he reaches my thighs and cups them, I know he’s going to lift me up and I let him. My legs wrapping around his waist, my arms now wrapped around his head, tangled in his hair. First when neither of us can breathe anymore we part our lips.

“I love you, Fenrys.”

Once again our lips and tongues connect and I can feel something strange happening within my chest. I’m so confused that I stop kissing him. He notices and puts me down, without letting go of me.

“You are my mate.”

My eyes widen as his words leave his mouth. I’m his mate. Now everything makes sense. Why I felt so drawn to him. Why I had to think about him all the time. Why I just can’t fucking be without him. . 

“That is if you even want me as your mate.” “Oh Fen, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t.” The way I say it he knows I’m playing with him. He scoops me up again and twirls us around. His laughter so warm and full of love. I don’t ever want to leave his arms ever again. I don’t ever not want to feel his lips on mine. I don’t ever want to leave this place.  I’ve got no idea how much time has passed. And being quite honest, I don’t care either. 

“Do you- do you want to go back inside?” I contemplate for a second before looking at him.  “Naaah, not really. But I’d like to test your claim of your indestructible bed.” “As you wish, my lady.”

(The only way Fenrys and I tested the bed that night was my cuddling and kissing. I do know how difficult it for him, even after all these years, to commit to something as huge as intimacy. But I’m willing to give him the time he needs. The last thing I want to happen is me being a second Maeve. He’s my little Moon Moon after all 🥰)

[stillness-in-green]

Say, concerning Skeptic, think he's staying behind at the Villain cave or wherever? I wanna believe he's with whatever remains of the PLF Intelligence Regiment Advisors, just keeping tabs on everyone.

I think it certainly makes sense that he’d stay at the Villain cave, certainly preferentially to him being with AFO’s army.  In Deika, he didn’t go out into the streets to confront anyone (like Curious and Geten) or run support (like Trumpet), but sensibly stayed in the tower right up until his own plan/competency was brought into question.  And it was, of course, very easy to leave the tower and then get to wherever in town he needed to be when he got his dander up; much harder for him to get anywhere of note from the Cave of Villainy, and far fewer people to poke at the sore spot that is his pride.

Assuming the internet is stable, he really doesn’t have much reason to leave.  As I’ve said in the past, Skeptic's quirk is solid enough, but his real strength is in his digital connections, not his combat capabilities.  Assuming he still has the ability to bug his own puppets, that combined with AFO’s warp means there’s no reason he couldn’t put those puppets anywhere the villains want them to be, including with the PLF remnants, be it as mobile servants or combat back-up.

On the other hand, that all begs the question of whether he wants to stay in the Villain cave.  We have gotten exactly zero insight into his thoughts on being stuck with AFO, but you have to imagine that he is at best Coping with it as a situation he’s making the best of despite wanting nothing so much as to get back his actual friends and comrades.

In that regard, it bears asking whether he’d take the opportunity to either bail when AFO and company left or try to steer the planning phase such that he could get put with the PLF remnants before the operation started.  The former feels unlikely; who wants All For One chasing after you because you left before he wanted you to?  The latter, though, I could definitely see.

On a similar note, it’s worth considering where AFO would want him to be for the operation; if he had any opinions on it, surely those would have carried the day.  He certainly didn’t take Skeptic into the main assault, but he might well have sent him off with Spinner, who’s presumably with aforementioned PLF remnants.  It’d lend some legitimacy to the idea that the Liberation Front is definitely still functioning and in pursuit of all its previous goals, and definitely not being ground under the authoritarian heel of an ultra-villain who cares not at all about the Great Cause.

Lastly, there’s the question of where Horikoshi needs him to be.  Assuming the heroes eventually carry the day here, we’ll need to see them dealing with all the enemy forces, which means finding that one guy who can project whatever he damn well wants onto TVs across the country.  The heroes still don’t know where the Cave of Villainy is, though, and without a computer genius of their own,* they don’t have a way to find it without someone who was in it telling them.

Shinsou might be able to get that answer now that he can make people talk, though I’m unclear on whether he can order people to say indefinite things like “the truth” or “what AFO expects to hear,” or can only make them say specific things.  Alternately, if one of the remaining League members turns after being defeated by their respective student (Dabi, Toga) or just to get Shigaraki some help (Spinner), that information could come from them.

That information doesn’t need to come out, however, if Skeptic is just conveniently not at the Villain cave when things start winding down, which would point to him being on Team Remnants if only so he can be arrested with them.  That's probably where the smart money is if Horikoshi is looking to wrap all this up neatly, quickly, and conclusively.

If he isn’t, though?  The most interesting possibility to me is that Skeptic did stay at the cave and its location is just never revealed; we never see Skeptic being collected by heroes.  That’d give us an ending that intentionally leaves some plot threads dangling, and man, if the MLA survivors could leave this story as a conscious loose end, that’d be fantastic.  Better than I’d been expecting, for sure, and better by far than that weak-ass, “The other sympathizers were also rounded up,” handwave after Jakku.  Fingers crossed, and thanks for the ask as always, @shockersalvage!

---

*  Mei being a mechanic by preference, La Brava is the closest thing the series has to a good-aligned “computer person,” and I don’t see her doing hero work without things like “a full pardon for Gentle” being on the table.  That would in turn require a lot more willingness to negotiate with villains than the hero side has shown thus far.

[orangeoctopi7]

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Suspicious Crash of Stanley Pines

The theme for @stanuary week 3 is Crime... what about... TRUE CRIME? I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved this last summer, so I’ve been wanting to do something like this.

If you don’t watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, this is probably gonna seem like a lot of rambling.

On the morning of July Fourth, 1982 in the sleepy logging town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, there was a firey explosion that wasn't part of the fireworks and festivities. A car had gone over the edge of the town's famed floating cliffs.

"Floating cliffs?" Shane asked

"They're like, giant overhangs. They're not just floating up in the middle of the air like Pandora or something." Ryan explained, showing Shane a photo on his phone.

"Oh, that's pretty."

"It is really pretty."

"What a beautiful place for a car to careen over a cliff."

Ryan cracked up.

"You get a lovely view as you plummet to your death." Shane imagined.

Between 6:15 and 6:20 PM, the Gravity Falls Police Department received six separate calls reporting seeing a yellow car in flames drive off the edge of the cliff and crash to the valley below.

When investigators arrived on the scene, they found the remains of a crushed and burnt 1971 Subaru DL Coupe. The police report notes finding that the brakes were cut, and evidence of gasoline being poured into the driver’s seat to start the fire. Strangest of all, no body was found in or around the crash, only a few burnt strands of hair.

“So, right off the bat, real suspicious.” Shane commented.

“Yeah, and it only gets more suspicious from here.” Ryan assured his co-host.

“And I’m assuming there’s no chance that they guy, y’know, got up and walked away from the crash?” 

“Oh, no, no way. You saw the picture of the cliffs.”

“Oh yeah, no way.”

“There’s no way anyone in the car would have survived that fall.”

“And it was on fire.”

“And it was on fire.”

Despite the lack of a body, the police determined from the few burnt strands of hair and an anonymous tip they received at 6:15 PM on the day of the crash, the driver of the car was one Stanley Pines, a 31 year old man from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Allegedly, he had been coming to Gravity Falls, Oregon to visit his twin brother, Stanford, who lived just a ten minute drive from the cliff Stan’s car had driven off.

“Wait, wait, wait--” Shane interrupted Ryan’s explanation, “Twin brothers. Named Stanley and Stanford.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the f___ names their kids like that?”

“I know, right?”

“Were they identical twins?”

“Uh, I couldn’t find anything saying they were definitely genetically identical, but, uh, with the way this case goes, it’s safe to assume they were identical enough.”

“Yikes, I feel sorry for them growing up, can you imagine how often people got them mixed up?”

“Yeah, but imagine the kinds of shenanigans they must have gotten up to!”

“Oh, that’s true. There would have been plenty of shenanigans. Lots and lots of shenanigans.”

“If you had twins, would you give them cutesy twin names?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Shane answered firmly.

“I think I’d just do like, alliterative names. Nothing too similar.” 

“Yeah, no I think twins probably have to deal with enough confusion bull___ without having to throw similar names or the same initials into the mix.”

“Interestingly enough…” Ryan started.

“Yeah, I’m guessing from your comments that the twin thing plays into this.”

When interviewed by the police, Stanford claimed his brother never arrived at his house. However, testimonies of other townsfolk reported seeing a red 1967 El Diablo with a distinctive “STNLYMBL” vanity license plate driving up the road to Stanford’s house earlier that winter. The house is out in the woods, isolated from the rest of the town, so no one would drive up that way unless they were going to see the cabin.

“Well what if they just wanted to take a walk out in the woods?” Shane countered.

“It was in early February.” 

“Snowshoeing.”

“In a blizzard.”

“Ok, you do not have a weather report for the exact day they saw this car!”

“Two of the testimonies mention there was a snow storm that day. Plus, the license plate says STANLEY MOBILE.”

“Well, Stanley is a fairly common name.”

“You-you’re just being contrary to bug me now, aren’t you?” Ryan accused.

Shane just grinned.

What’s more, that same red El Diablo was the car Stanford now drove. 

“What!?” Shane laughed with disbelief for a moment before putting on a mocking tone. “Uh, yeah, he never showed up, but, uh, I have his car. I’m still driving it. Y’know, seemed like a waste to just let it sit in the driveway.”

“He didn’t even change the license plate.” Ryan added.

“Oh, of course not!” Shane said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

Upon further inspection, the car that crashed was registered to Stanford, and had been reported totaled almost seven years prior.

“It’s interesting that they say it was totaled.” Ryan commented. “Because totalled just means that the damage is more expensive to fix than the car is worth, so it could have still been drivable.”

“And if you’re trying to fake a car crash, what better to use than an already worthless car?” Shane agreed. 

“Exactly.”

Stanley Pines was declared dead by auto accident and the case was closed in September of 1982, due to lack of evidence and quote: “A lack of interest from the involved parties”.

“A lack of interest from the involved parties!? What the h___ does that even mean?” Shane asked in bewilderment.

“It’s odd, to be sure.”

It’s when we look into the background of the presumed dead Stanley, and his brother Stanford, that this case becomes truly bizarre. 

Stanley Pines left home at the age of 17, and had brief but unsuccessful careers as an amature prize fighter and as a salesman, before he turned to a life of crime. Prior to his reported death, he had been in prison five times, in three different countries, and had lived under at least eight different assumed names, with several others that were never confirmed. He had known ties to the mob and drug cartels.

“Quite the shady character. That might explain why the police didn’t look too closely into his ‘death’.” Shane put air quotes around “death”.

“Well, does it? I mean, if they thought his death might have been related to the mob…” Ryan argued.

“They know better than to mess with the mob, even in Oregon.”

“I mean, we have seen in several past True Crime episodes, what can happen if you mess with the mob.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You don’t wanna do it.”

“Nope.”

His brother Stanford was no less strange. He was born with fully-functional polydactyly, meaning he had six fingers on each hand. It’s worth noting that after 1982, Stanford no longer had 6 fingers. He claims that he had them surgically removed, because, quote: “I was sick of people staring.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Shane said doubtfully.

“You don’t believe that explanation?”

“Let’s just say I find it highly suspect.”

Stanford was also a certified genius, graduating with the most PhDs Backupsmore University had ever awarded. As a graduate student, he worked as a researcher and inventor for the US Government. Some sources say he worked on top-secret experiments. 

In 1975, he received a $100,000 research grant, which he used to move to Gravity Falls and become a Paranormal Researcher. When he arrived in Gravity Falls, he was the subject of many rumors throughout the town, due to his reclusive nature and strange area of study. 

“Oh, so this guy was basically you.” Shane pointed out.

“He’s basically me if I didn’t have you.” Ryan agreed.

“Awww, that’s sweet!” Shane placed a hand over his heart.

Many residents reported seeing strange lights coming from Stanford’s home in the woods starting almost as soon as he moved in, as well as strange sounds.

“Well, it seems like Gravity Falls is a pretty small town. People gossip.” Shane reasoned.

“Ok, yeah, but people gossip about who’s cheating on who, or what business secretly sells drugs out the back. They don’t gossip about strange lights coming out of the new neighbor’s basement.”

“They could. It’s gossip. Gossip can be about anything.”

Reports of the lights stopped in late January of 1982. Just four months later, in March, Stanford began opening up his home for tours, and in a matter of weeks, transformed his home into a tourist stop called the “Murder Hut.”

“Oh my g__.” Shane stifled a laugh. “A little on the nose there, don’t you think?”

“He did rename it to the Mystery Shack about a year later.”

“Hmm, yeah I wonder why?” Shane asked facetiously. 

Stanford also exhibited paranoid behavior on several occasions before the crash, especially in the early months of 1982.

One local reported seeing Stanford screaming “No it isn’t, you creeps! I can see you just fine!” down an alleyway. Several other eyewitnesses reported seeing him fall out of his seat at the Triple Digits Truck Stop Diner on Route 14 and scream for something to “get out of his mind” before fleeing the building.

“So, he definitely seemed to think something was out to get him.” Ryan commented.

“Not the words of a sane man.”

“Unless something really was out to get him.”

“Eeeeh, even then…” Shane wiggled his hand in a so-so motion. 

Dan Corduroy, one of the few people who had regular contact with Stanford before he opened the Mystery Shack, had this to say about the sudden change from research lab to tourist trap:

“Oh, he’s definitely been acting differently. He was really shy before, hard to talk to even. He seemed uncomfortable spending a lot of time with people. I’d invite him over to one of my family’s cabins to visit, but he only ever wanted to visit the haunted one while we were all out of town. I’d say it was a good change, though. It wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time like that. I’m glad he’s finally spending time with other people.”

“He only wanted to visit our haunted cabin.” Shane repeated with disbelief. “Hey, do you wanna come over to visit one of our cabins?” He put on a voice. “Uh, that depends, what kind of cabins have you got?’ ‘Well there’s one by the lake, one with a nice view of the valley, and one that’s haunted.’ ‘Oh, I’ll take the haunted one!”

“What gets me is he only wanted to visit the haunted cabin while everyone else was out of town. We’ve stayed in our fair share of haunted places, and it was bad enough staying overnight, just me and you, but there is nothing that could convince me to spend the night in one of those places all by myself.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure none of the places we’ve been to have actually been haunted, but I see what you mean. It’s not fun to go to a haunted house by yourself. It’s kinda boring.”

“Um, we’re not gonna get into this discussion now, because we still haven’t even gotten to the theories yet, but you’re wrong.”

The case came to light again in August of 2012, when Federal agents arrested Stanford Pines, and detained him for several hours for questioning. By the next day, he had been released, and officials stated that his arrest had been due to a false lead. What exactly that false lead was, however, was never stated.

Now that we’ve gone over the extensive background of this case, let’s get into the theories of what really happened that 4th of July in 1982.

Theory #1: The theory put forth by the police, that Stanley Pines died in a fiery car accident.

“So then how do they explain what happened to the body?” Shane asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Ryan.

“And why were the breaks cut?”

“No explanation given.”

“That’s a stupid theory, those cops ought to be fired.”

Ryan stifled a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Theory #2: That Stanley killed his brother, made it look like his own death, and took over his brother’s life. This would explain the loss of his extra fingers, the sudden change in behavior that led him to open up the Mystery Shack, and his sudden acquisition of Stanley’s car. It does not, however, explain the lack of a body in the crash.

“He could have disposed of his brother’s body somewhere else, and then just like, left an ice block on the gas pedal and let the car run itself off the cliff.” Shane theorized.

“That’s possible. I was also thinking, maybe the body was gone. Maybe Stanley didn’t necessarily kill Stanford, maybe they met up in the woods, Stanford got eaten by a bear, and Stanley, who was already in trouble with the mob, took advantage of the situation, and faked his own death.”

“How--why did you work your fear of bears into this?” 

“That’s just my variation on this theory.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not say that he was the one who got eaten by the bear? Why fake the car crash and then say his brother never showed up?”

“Because if the mob knew he’d talked to his brother before he died, maybe they’d come question him?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a possibility.”

Theory #3: That Stanford killed Stanley and made it look like an accident. People who support this theory say the psychological trauma and guilt of killing his own brother may have driven Stanford to change his appearance and behavior to more closely resemble that of his dead brother.

“That’s… kind of a stretch.” Shane said slowly. “I feel like, Occam's Razor, theory 2 is more plausible.”

“What makes you say that one’s more plausible?”

“I dunno, just saying ‘He killed his brother and took his place’ seems a lot more likely than ‘The other brother killed him and the guilt drove him to act like his brother. I don’t think that’s how psychology works.”

Theory #4: Both brothers are still alive. Stanley, on the run from the mob, came to his brother Stanford for help. Meanwhile, Stanford was worried about someone or something that was out to get him. They came to a solution that would solve both their problems: switching places. They would fake Stanley’s death, throwing the mob off of Stanley’s trail. Then, Stanley would take Stanford’s place in the public eye, while Stanford went into hiding.

This theory is supported by photos that surfaced on Facebook in 2012. Several photos of Gravity Falls after a series of earthquakes did extensive damage to the town show what is supposed to be Stanford. However, another man that looks just like him is seen standing in the background. Interestingly enough, both mens’ hands are obscured in all of these photos. 

While the photos haven’t been analysed by any professionals to definitively determine if either of the men are Stanley Pines, it has been determined that the photos are not edited.

“Would the whole photo recognition software even work on identical twins?” Ryan wondered.

“I don’t think so?” Shane answered unsurely. “I mean, my Facebook facial recognition auto-tag doesn’t even recognize my mom half the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if twins throw it off.”

“Just looking at some of these photos yourself, what do you think?” Ryan handed a few print-outs from his folder to Shane.

“Oh wow, yeah, they do look alike.” Shane nodded. “Alright, yeah, I’m convinced. We solved it, guys! Video over!”

“We actually do have one more theory.” Ryan informed him.

Theory #5: Stanford was abducted by aliens.

“Oh for f___’s sake--” Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “We have four perfectly good, plausible explanations, and you have to throw that in!”

“This one actually does have some evidence behind it.”

“Bull____, but go on.”

Stanford was a professional paranormal researcher. Although he was very secretive about his research, even to his grant committee, some of his research notes do list looking for proof of ancient aliens visiting the valley before European contact. Could it be the thing he was afraid of was aliens?

“... That’s it?” Shane asked. “When you said this one actually had some evidence behind it, I thought you meant there was a UFO sighting in the same area around the same time.”

“The negative space between the floating cliffs kinda looks like a UFO” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a random researcher in the 80’s was abducted by aliens! That’s like, if I found a ransom note for you in the office, but I said ‘Well, Ryan was afraid of bears. Bears used to live in California, there’s one on the state flag outside our building. He must have been eaten by a bear.’ That’s the kind of leap in logic we’re talking about!”

Was this a case of fratricide? Or is this the longest and most elaborate twin switch of all time? For now, this case remains… UNSOLVED.

 * * *

“It was really hard for me to stay on topic while I was researching this one.” Ryan admitted as they wrapped things up. “There is a lot of weird stuff related to Gravity Falls, we should go there for an episode one of these days.”

“I’d love to do that, it looks like a beautiful place to visit.” Shane agreed. “Are you sure you wanna do that though? It seems like the place is crawling with haunted cabins and bears.”

“Well, one could argue this entire series is about me conquering my fears, so… Why not?”

[storiesungaa]

mobile rules & information

Since people don’t read rules all the way through i would like to preface this by saying: TRIGGERING MATERIAL WILL BE WRITTEN HERE. THIS INCLUDES BUT IS NOT LIMITED TO: INCEST, DUBCON, SUICIDAL IDEALATIONS, CHEATING, AND ANYTHING ELSE I WANT TO WRITE. BY CLICKING FOLLOW, YOU AGREE TO BLACKLIST THE TAGS PROVIDED IN THE FORM OF (trigger here) tw. DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU THINK FICTION EQUALS REALITY OR IN ANYWAY HAS ANY REFLECTION ON A MUN’S MORAL STANDING. 

HATE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED AND ANY ANON’S I GET ABOUT THIS THAT IS HATE WILL BE BLOCKED/NOT AT ALL ACKNOWLEDGED.

THANK YOU.

about: this is an indie mutuals only rp blog for a multimuse with various fandoms from tv shows, movies, anime, and video games. mun is 25+, genderfluid lesbian, goes by he/him pronouns (but i am genderfluid so i don’t mind she/her pronouns, most just call me he/him) online and name Jay. Previously known as Ares and Snow.

Callout culture: Do not involve me in this. Period. I want no part of it and will block as soon as I see it, tagged or not. I believe it does more harm than good and something like tha is extremely harmful..

content: there will be some pretty heavy material featured here. such as suicidal thoughts, mentions of rape, incest, and anything else I want to write. I will not tolerate hate being sent to me about this and I will block anyone who tries to police me. The only hard limit i have and absolutely refuse to write is pedophilia.

Don’t ever be afraid to ask me to tag something!

side note: if you believe fiction equals reality, please don’t follow me.

discord: is open to those who follow me. simply ask for it. i do not write on discord though. ooc contact is highly encouraged!

disclaimer: i'm in no way affiliated with any of the actors, fandoms, or characters on this blog.  Banners, promos, and icons belong to me. Theme was made by inkfated.  all screencaps used to turn into icons on this blog are not mine and belong to their rightful owners. Lara Croft screencaps come from soulcluster. tsunade icons belong to hellspath. rectangle tsunade icons belong to me. Some psds are not mine. Credit to iconholic for Red Velvet psd. Credit to plutocommissions for psd 183 - wild. some psds used are made by rivercraze

Drama: There won’t be any. I’m too old for tumblr’s drama, if you try to start something, make me choose, or drag me into drama - you will be blocked.

DNI’s will get you blocked. I don’t agree with making people choose between people when there are things like blacklist and tumblr’s own filtering system to help you avoid a person

Hate: Character hate, show hate, etc will get you unfollowed. I don’t have time for that negativity, pls tag it so I can filter it out, thank you.

IMs: pls refrain from sending me multiple messages all at once as I’m autistic and it sends me into sensory overloads!!

follow/unfollowing: i usually follow back pretty quick. if i don't follow within a week, i'm probably not going to follow back. 9/10 i do follow back. i will not follow if i see vaguing, callouts, or any sort of drama on blogs. i also will not follow any under the age of 18.

if i’ve been following you for a month and you don’t interact with me within that time limit, I’m unfollowing. I won’t soft block because I’m totally okay with people still following me but I don’t see the point in following if we’re not gonna write.

If I do not follow you back, do not message me asking to write or become mutuals - you will be blocked.

If I block you, do not come to me asking why. It will only get you blocked all over again. Do not ask why i’ve unfollowed you, either.

DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU’RE A MINOR.

side note: if you’re the type to blindly believe a callout because that’s what everyone else is doing  save yourself the trouble and don’t follow me.

Memes: Send as many as you want for as many muses as you want just be sure to specify muse or they’ll get deleted! Always feel free to turn meme answers into threads, too.

Do not use me as a meme resource. Send something in or reblog from the source, please.

note:  if you send memes multiple times and there’s clearly a way to continue them, ESPECIALLY if we’ve never interacted before, and you keep sending memes but have NO INTENTIONS on replying to them, I will be less likely to respond to them. memes, in my eyes, are used as alternatives to starters. if you don’t respond to them after i’ve responded to quite a few, that’s me putting work into it for no reason really, so yeah.

My triggers: Sharks. That’s it. Just tag pictures of sharks for me please

nsfw: smut will be present here. i can not play the dominant party in smut, please don't ask me too. if you don't feel comfortable with it, we can fade to black, easy peasy. i won't make myself uncomfortable for some smut. All muses involved in smut or ships are 18+. If you think that aging them up is pedophila, do me a favor and get off my blog. Smut may happen with aged up characters but that does not mean it was done specifically for smut. Do not assume.

OCS: I love them. Send them my way, please!

OOC:  I post ooc, sometimes quite a bit, sometimes rarely. I am human and I will act as such. I will not tag ooc posts mostly bc i’ll forget. Sorry if that bugs people but like i said, I’m human and I like to write things down and share things with the dash.

OOC note: please do not flirt with me or ask me to date you, thank you!

Shipping: all muses are LGBT+ in some shape or form so if you want to ship, just let me know. They’re pretty open to anyone, though gay and lesbian muses will stay gay and lesbian. I ship toxic pairings and incest so if that’s your cup of tea, just lemme know, and we can work something out if not? That’s alright too!!

As previously stated, all ships and smut scenes are involved with characters 18+. I will never under any circumstance write something with underage characters. Characters, however, can be aged up but are never simply just for the sake of smut. Smut may happen with aged up characters but that does not mean it was done specifically for smut. Do not assume.

wait time: sometimes i can take months, sometimes seconds, sometimes days. I’m not a fast rper, please respect this.

writing: i generally prefer writing multi-para or novella. one-liners or one-paragraphs usually end up getting dropped or made into much longer threads as i have absolutely no chill. 

edit: from now on any drafts that are below three paras will be deleted, i don’t have muse for short things.

End note: Do me a favor and like this post if you’ve read my rules. Not needed but deeply appreciated. Also below you’ll find important links:

MUSES & NAVIGATION & MUSE INTEREST CHECKER & SHIP INTEREST CHECKER & COMMISSIONS INFORMATION & MOBILE MUSE LIST & THREAD TRACKER

[majorpepperidge]

This robot has trauma

aka, Cheri has rewatched a bit of BLOSC now and still has plenty of opinions on XL, and how the sloppy wrap-up of his character arc makes me break out into angry hives

Note: There’s gonna be some self-interpretation/headcanon stuff in here as well as canon evidence. Weehaw.

 ALRIGHT SO, let’s start from the beginning. XL was activated, and started blasting stuff with no self-control, was deemed dangerous, and deactivated. AND YET, we get confirmation in ‘Return of XL’ that XL and XR were built and programmed exactly the same, and XR didn’t go triggerhappy on his first boot. Why? We never get a real reason for it, but I have my own little idea.

I’m not a programmer of any sort myself, but one thing you often hear is how bugs can crop up in code out of nowhere and require a lot of double and triple checking to squash them. I’m willing to put a generous sum of money down that XL’s initial ‘freakout’ on his first boot was simply a glitch in the code (hey, even the unified LGMs can make mistakes, I’m sure) that could’ve been fixed with a simple reboot. How else to you test things? But Commander Nebula is already some sort of weird boomer (despite being in the INSTERSPACE AGE???) and pulled the plug without a second thought. 

There’s the weird underlying theme in BLOSC (and in a lot of other sci-fi media, tbh) of robots being treated as second-class citizens so nobody really bats an eye at Nebula’s decision, but it was a pretty shit move. If the man had any sort of foresight, he’d realize that he kind of manifested his own destiny of if XL got reactivated, he’d be pissed as hell. 

Which is of course what happened. We don’t see XL being reactivated, we don’t know the thought process he went through to get to the point of the opening of his intro episode where he starts rebuilding a newer, more deadly body for himself, but it’s pretty easy to imagine he’d blast through the denial stage of grief and go whole hog into anger. And I can’t blame him, honestly. Something that very well could have not been your fault (the aforementioned glitch theory) happens, and you essentially get killed? Yeah, I’d want revenge too. But it isn’t just simple revenge, is it? XL is angry, and hurt, sure. But there’s also that hint of desperation, of wanting to prove that he’s worth something to the galaxy and he shouldn’t have been shut down at all.

“Do you know what consumed my thoughts while I was locked up? I thought, and I thought, and I thought, about why they deactivated me but made YOU a Ranger!”

To rub salt in the wound of deactivation, XL sees XR. A functioning, accepted, Space Ranger. Why wasn’t XR shut down? Why did he get accepted and not XL? It’s a weird double-standard, considering XR is far from perfect (except to himself, he is perfect to himself) as a Ranger. Like I said before, XL confirms that he and XR were built and programmed exactly the same, so it’s baffling to him that XR even exists. I’m sure that they both think of each other ‘That could be me’.

XL is a foil to XR, obviously. Not just in the ‘one is good and one is evil’ kinda deal, but just in how they operate. We get plenty of proof that XL is genuinely smart as hell, building and designing weapons and plans, but he seems to have trouble with improvising. The minute something goes wrong with his plans, XL has a hard time recovering and ends up failing. XR, conversely, has trouble with planning, but is fantastic with improvising. He thinks on his feet, so to speak.

I’m...honestly not sure how to wrap this up so I’ll just put my final thoughts here

XL’s core motivation seems to be pinned on acceptance, and if he’d encountered someone that genuinely sympathized with him and tried to understand him, he wouldn’t have stayed a villain for long. His ‘redemption’ in canon putting him back under Star Command’s yoke in an essentially useless body with an essentially useless and thankless job isn’t how you redeem someone who was clearly wronged, and while he lashed out in an unhealthy and violent way, was still deserving of some form of sympathy. Putting him on a fucking mobile photocopy machine just shows that he’s still not trusted by Star Command, and they assume if he had a proper Ranger robot body, he’d just go out on villainy again. If BLOSC had continued, I can only imagine XL realizing the shit deal he was given on returning to Star Command, and getting angry all over again. Without true acceptance and help to recover from the trauma of being deactivated, he’ll keep repeating the cycle.

[storieswrittcnarch]

mobile rules

about: this is an indie mutuals only rp blog for a multimuse with various fandoms from tv shows, movies, anime, and video games. mun is 25+, genderfluid lesbian, goes by he/him pronouns online and name Jay. Previously known as Ares and Snow.

Callout culture: Do not involve me in this. Period. I want no part of it and will block as soon as I see it, tagged or not. I believe it does more harm than good and something like tha is extremely harmful..

content: there will be some pretty heavy material featured here. such as suicidal thoughts, mentions of rape, incest, and anything else I want to write. I will not tolerate hate being sent to me about this and I will block anyone who tries to police me. The only hard limit i have and absolutely refuse to write is pedophilia.

Don’t ever be afraid to ask me to tag something!

side note: if you believe fiction equals reality, please don’t follow me.

discord: is open to those who follow me. simply ask for it. i do not write on discord though. ooc contact is highly encouraged!

disclaimer: i'm in no way affiliated with any of the actors, fandoms, or characters on this blog. Most icons on this blog are made by me using my own psd. Banners, promos, and icons belong to me. Theme was made by inkfated.  all screencaps used to turn into icons on this blog are not mine and belong to their rightful owners. Lara Croft screencaps come from soulcluster. tsunade icons belong to hellspath. rectangle tsunade icons belong to me.

Drama: There won’t be any. I’m too old for tumblr’s drama, if you try to start something, make me choose, or drag me into drama - you will be blocked.

DNI’s will get you blocked. I don’t agree with making people choose between people when there are things like blacklist and tumblr’s own filtering system to help you avoid a person

Hate: Character hate, show hate, etc will get you unfollowed. I don’t have time for that negativity, pls tag it so I can filter it out, thank you.

IMs: pls refrain from sending me multiple messages all at once as I’m autistic and it sends me into sensory overloads!!

follow/unfollowing: i usually follow back pretty quick. if i don't follow within a week, i'm probably not going to follow back. 9/10 i do follow back. i will not follow if i see vaguing, callouts, or any sort of drama on blogs. i also will not follow any under the age of 18.

If I do not follow you back, do not message me asking to write or become mutuals - you will be blocked.

If I block you, do not come to me asking why. It will only get you blocked all over again. Do not ask why i’ve unfollowed you, either.

side note: if you’re the type to blindly believe a callout because that’s what everyone else is doing  save yourself the trouble and don’t follow me.

Memes: Send as many as you want for as many muses as you want just be sure to specify muse or they’ll get deleted! Always feel free to turn meme answers into threads, too.

Do not use me as a meme resource. Send something in or reblog from the source, please.

note: if you send me a meme, the /ask link doesn’t work so you have to use the pop up on the blog! it’s the second link on the theme.

My triggers: Sharks. That’s it. Just tag pictures of sharks for me please

nsfw: smut will be present here. i can not play the dominant party in smut, please don't ask me too. if you don't feel comfortable with it, we can fade to black, easy peasy. i won't make myself uncomfortable for some smut. All muses involved in smut or ships are 18+. If you think that aging them up is pedophila, do me a favor and get off my blog. Smut may happen with aged up characters but that does not mean it was done specifically for smut. Do not assume.

OCS: I love them. Send them my way, please! 

OOC:  I post ooc, sometimes quite a bit, sometimes rarely. I am human and I will act as such. I will not tag ooc posts mostly bc i’ll forget. Sorry if that bugs people but like i said, I’m human and I like to write things down and share things with the dash.

Shipping: all muses are LGBT+ in some shape or form so if you want to ship, just let me know. They’re pretty open to anyone, though gay and lesbian muses will stay gay and lesbian. I ship toxic pairings and incest so if that’s your cup of tea, just lemme know, and we can work something out if not? That’s alright too!!

As previously stated, all ships and smut scenes are involved with characters 18+. I will never under any circumstance write something with underage characters. Characters, however, can be aged up but are never simply just for the sake of smut. Smut may happen with aged up characters but that does not mean it was done specifically for smut. Do not assume.

wait time: sometimes i can take months, sometimes seconds, sometimes days. I’m not a fast rper, please respect this.

writing: i generally prefer writing multi-para or novella. one-liners or one-paragraphs usually end up getting dropped or made into much longer threads as i have absolutely no chill.

End note: Do me a favor and like this post if you’ve read my rules. Not needed but deeply appreciated.

[hollowknightheadcanons]

Spooky Scary ideas for the funny soup au

(by ratcandy)

Oh boy! You've allowed me to ramble! Horror soup au time.

A'ight so how is soup boy getting ahold of soul? We know in canon that there's... some way of extracting soul, aside from just killing bugs, but I don't believe we ever see what that machine... is? We see a snail shaman strapped down somewhere, presumably to be Drained(tm), but I can't remember if we actually see a soul-extraction-device of sorts. Considering the only other method we've seen of gathering soul is through attacking/killing bugs, I can only imagine that the soul draining process would be horrifically painful! So much so that he'd likely have to be careful how much is drained at a time... if he's not trying to kill the bug off. Which in of itself opens up the can of worms of him using the same bug over and over again for soul! What if he was in a rush? Would he just drown them in the hot springs (or whatever that liquid is) until they're full on soul again? How does he make sure they don't fight back?

On that note, where's he keeping his victims? You mentioned "When he first started out, he was only using a couple bugs- why raise suspicions by draining a bunch of bugs for soul when you could keep only a couple? But then as his restaurant got more popular, he needed more." He's gonna need a place to be holdin these bugs. Somewhere they can't escape and where they can't be heard. I know there was talk of a basement somewhere?? That COULD work, but it'd have to be soundproofed to some degree. Also, it'd have to be a pretty big basement! Assuming the growth in popularity is enough that he needs a constant supply of soul! Unless the basement is underneath the restaurant. Which is actually an idea I've used for a story before! The "ingredients" are kept deep underneath the feet of all the unknowing customers. They can scream and shout all they want - it'd be worse if they know there's bugs above them that can't hear them - but alas! No saving them now.

Bro hear me OUT What if he obtained his victims by setting up a sort of... yknow. "Now Hiring!" façade? Some poor sod thinks they get to work in the popular five star soup restaurant but oh no! actually you're being used for years of torment. but hey! your blood, sweat and tears is put into every bowl :) you're a vital asset to the team!

I'm also just imagining a whole scene where Lurien finds out about the basement, somehow, but he's not sure what to expect. He sneaks down at some point, maybe in the dead of night when the restaurant's closed, only to be faced with the horror of hundreds of drained bugs, all barely alive, begging to be freed. 

Someone headcanon'd at some point that the Soul Master is straight up chugging raw soul after a long day and. IMAGINE. Throughout the show/story/what have you, his body is just progressively contorting due to the effects of soul. Having "watered-down" soul, as is used in the soups, is fine in small doses, but just... straight up drinking that strong stuff? Oh terrible! By the end of it, he's just a bloated, hardly mobile mess, constantly choking on the soul he's ingested but somehow supremely powerful still. So he can fight back when Lurien shows up to. I dunno. arrest em? kill em? Dunno what the end goal is for Lurien other than proving it to the King, who's been shown to. likely not care! (The King's probably in on it imo)

ON that note, too, what about Mistakes/Follies? I imagine they're all over the basement. Experiments with "how much soul can i put in this soup without is having negative effects on a customer" that went very wrong! 

Does soul behave like a drug here? I mean, it's got healing properties, so anyone that ingests it has gotta be feeling pretty good afterwards. If they realize the correlation between "hey i'm feelin real sweet rn" to "this soup is wiggity wack" then. oop. they just keep coming back for more :)

And just for the sake of yummy gore and unsafe food practices: what if some newly-hired idiot (actually hired, not hired to be drained), that the Soul Master just trusted for some reason, didn't understand it was the soul being used in the soup and thought it actually was bugs themselves? Uh oh sisters! Accidental cannibalism? accidental cannibalism! And soup boy having to HASTILY cover up this mistake somehow when someone realizes there's chitin in their soup. actually. no. you didn't notice anything. please let's discuss this privately :) would you be so kind as to meet me downstairs? 

OKAY time to put a cap on my rambling for now!! It'd probably be a good idea to tag this with. uh. some sort of warning? I dunno hskjh, I tried not to get too graphic here but!! YeeAH,

———

This has the energy of that one post that’s like “a sitcom that keeps getting progressively darker and when a character dies their scene in the opening theme is just dead silence”

By the time Lurien uncovers the full secret, it’s unlikely there would be any bugs alive- however remember the soul sanctum basement in the game itself? yeah.

If Soul Master overdoses on soul then that would be the series finale or something. when it’s completely switched genres lol. Imagine the mood whiplash from going from season 1 episode 5 to season 5 episode 8.

Idk if PK is in on it since in the game he did try and shut down the soul sanctum (it’s implied at least) but the soul master went and continued behind his back anyway.

now for the machine that drains soul, we only have two references for that. the snail shaman and the place where you get spell twister.

its not that difficult to actually get the bugs for the soup though since he has at least two soul warriors and i hate those guys, one almost killed me in steel soul. i was at one mask.

Wait what if when they first started out, they (soul master and other soul sanctum guys) used their OWN soul just to test it out before they started getting into the whole kidnapping bugs for soul business. just a little bit. so that’s how the machine is not designed to kill on accident.

ooh i just got an idea but i’ll make a separate post.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 13, something luck something

I gave myself the feels, @lostmypotatoes send help

Link here.

“…AND THIS, MY INTREPID YOUNG FRIEND, IS…THE ROYAL GUARD!! NYEHHHHHH!”

They’d stopped at the head of the staircase in the Grand Hall. Her new skeleton friend had thrown his arms wide at a line of monsters standing motionless in shiny black armor, as proud as a child showing a visitor his favorite toys. “NYEHHH,” he added reverently.

The Royal Guard was quite impressive, like gleaming statues that could come to life and kill you, but Frisk wasn’t scared. She could see their ears poking out from their helmets, and some of them looked pretty silly: a couple of dogs, a cat, a rabbit, a bug, something like a lizard or dragon…

But then there was their Captain, who had just removed her helmet. She did not look silly. “UNDYNE!” Papyrus blared at the tall, eyepatched fish-woman. “THIS IS KRIS! SAY HELLO TO HIM! …ER, UNDYNE? HIS NAME IS KRIS, NYEH HEH! …HE IS A HUMAN! …NYEH? UNDYNE?”

No answer. Undyne’s scarred, scowling, evil-toothed countenance did not waver. Her webbed hand was clenched on the shaft of her spear, cerulean scales and mostly-yellow eye glittering in the witchlight. Even her red ponytail looked menacing as it fluttered in the breeze of passing dignitaries.

The human’s path was clear. Her expression went blank with determination. Frisk looked around and saw vases full of fresh flowers against the wall; as the monsters glanced at each other in confusion, the child selected a vase, tossed out the flowers, lugged the vase back to the Royal Guard Captain, and, with one almighty heave, threw the water right into Undyne’s face.

~

Frisk woke him even earlier than they’d planned, looking as though she hadn’t slept and sounding very businesslike. Sans was too groggy at first to remember last night, and before he could wonder if it had even happened, she was already laying out their plan for the day.

And…it was not what they had discussed yesterday. It was the opposite. “Lemme get this straight,” he said when she was finished. “Ya don’ wanna sneak out anymore. You wanna tell everyone an’ their mom that we’re takin’ the monsters back t’the Underground as a goodwill gesture in exchange for more cool monster stuff.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re goin’ out as a big deal that everyone knows about, on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna let ‘em think you already cleared it with the King ‘n everything’s fine?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…that’s a big fat lie.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It isn’t.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“I’m not an idiot, Sans! If we disappeared without any indication whatsoever of where I’d gone, His Majesty would assume I’d been abducted and send soldiers after me. I just woke him up a few minutes ago and told him where we were going, and why.”

Something about the way she said it made him ask, “And he’s okay with it?”

Frisk smirked. “We’re going.”

~

Departing with a lot of fanfare actually took less effort than Sans expected. All he had to do was go down to the stables, announce that Her Eminence was leaving immediately on an important diplomatic mission, hand over her written instructions, and then stand back. For once, his scariness was a real advantage: by the time Frisk brought down the group of silent, shivering monsters, the wagons were already in place, the horses hitched up, and the cargo nearly loaded.

The priestess had been busy mobilizing a small army of assistants, which was a lot easier than their original plan to have him teleport everything from her room. Their provisions and gifts for the Underground were brought down and loaded according to the diagrams Frisk had drawn for the monsters: one wagon was for Ice Cap, who would travel with the majority of the food, while the other had Pyrope and Vulkin, who were wrapped in fireproof blankets and seated away from anything flammable. The other monsters would ride with them in order to stay warm—the canvas wagon covers were good for privacy, but didn’t keep out much of the wind.

Sans had made himself scarce while the work was going on, but when everyone and everything was in place, he stepped up to make Frisk get in with the flame monsters instead of riding up front in the lead wagon. She’d been standing in a corner of the freezing yard to supervise the last preparations; in her full High Priestess regalia, she was as impressive as ever, but he’d watched her closely and seen her trying not to cough.

As her personal guard, and her…whatever the hell they were now, it was his duty to not let her get sick again, but his official consideration was for her safety. They were traveling with a cortege of twelve guards, which would deter most attackers and also help clear traffic ahead of them, but there was no point in putting her on display for someone to take potshots.

They wheeled out of the castle gates and onto the main thoroughfare just after sunrise. Sans wasn’t a big fan of walking, or being in the cold, but his slippers and overcoat were mostly adequate. He wished he could poke his head into the wagon to check on Frisk, but she had asked him not to let the other monsters see him yet; besides, he heard her humming at a couple of points and figured she was busy keeping them calm. Pyrope was a twitchy little bastard, and Vulkin had a bad habit of “helping” via lava, so he’d just leave her to it.

The day passed, and to their pleasant surprise, they reached Frisk’s house on the outskirts of the city long before dark. That gave them more time than expected for Frisk to unload the monsters and shepherd them into the house; Sans grabbed enough food for that night and the morning, and the attendants took the wagons and horses to the nearest inn. Two guards took up positions outside the house before they locked the door for the night, and that was that.

None of the monsters had spoken or made eye contact with anyone all day, to Sans’ knowledge. As soon as they were gathered in the dining room, the priestess allowed him to step in and say, “Heya.”

Frisk retreated as the monsters came alive, swarming around the giant skeleton and all babbling at once in frantic relief. He had been somewhat scary to them in the relative peace of the Underground, but seeing him now was the best possible reassurance that the High Priestess had not been lying or playing some kind of sick game with them: they really would be home by the day after tomorrow.

After a few minutes, Frisk came back into the room, bare-headed and wearing a loose white gown, for Sans to re-introduce her as “Kris,” the not-really-a-boy from the human delegation. Six of the eight remembered her, and Pyrope got so excited that he left a couple of smoking holes in the carpet.

When everyone was done eating and talking, Frisk directed Ice Cap to the attic, where they could safely leave the little window open to keep it cold, while Sans built up the kitchen fire and made an asbestos-blanket fort for the flame monsters. The others sprawled out on the beds or any patch of floor they could, safe and well-fed; still, Sans noticed how uneasy they were, and understood what that was like. He just hoped they’d be able to feel safe again.

Once everyone was settled, Frisk was nowhere to be found. Of all the damn places she could’ve slept in, Sans finally found her wrapped up in her cloak in the bathtub. “Frisk,” he said accusingly.

She made a noise explaining that she was fine, a monster could have the remaining bed.

“Nope.” The priestess squeaked as he bent to scoop her up in both hands. “C’mon, kitten. Time ta sleep literally anywhere else.” Before she could object, he walked her into the smallest bedroom, dropped her onto the bed, and threw a comforter over her. “There. G’night.”

Frisk struggled to sit up. “Wait, where—”

Sans lay down on the floor and sighed noisily. “We’re not t’the Underground yet. Let’s just go ta sleep, okay?”

“…Okay. But, Sans—”

The boss monster emitted a loud, sustained fake snore, cut short by her pillow landing on his face.

~

Either the demon-child was still satisfied from the other night, or they were just too tired to be reachable, because they woke from a dreamless night to another stiff, sore day of travel.

The monsters were more animated today as they loaded into the wagons, which Frisk took as a good omen. Granted, there was a delay when Sans got too close to the draft horses and scared them so badly that the grooms had to unhitch them for a quick jog around the block, but the crowd gathering on the street to watch still cheered and waved as they set off.

It was another bitterly cold day, and as Frisk leaned into Vulkin, she tried not to think too much about spending the night in the no-man’s-land. King Stephin had still been sleepy when they talked yesterday morning, and the best objection he’d come up with on the spot had been the diplomatic ramifications of bringing so many humans so close to the Underground. She’d countered with the proposal that they leave all their attendants at the border and have Sans handle both security and transportation from then on, as he was a monster and knew the area well. The King tried to backpedal, but Frisk had gone on about a smaller group being faster and safer, attracting less attention, needing fewer provisions, etc., until he gave in.

“Very well. I will ask His Holiness to arrange the necessary financial matters for each monster,” the King had said coolly. “I am trusting you, Frisk, to bring back favorable news, and prove that this mission is any better than a child’s tantrum over not getting her way.”

“I wonder that Your Majesty has ever spent enough time with a child to see one,” she shot back, eliminating any chance of leaving him on a polite note.

Unfortunately, Frisk was now so busy thinking of that conversation – and trying to ignore the bruises she was accumulating from riding in a big, jouncing cargo wagon – that she forgot to mention it to Sans until they stopped for a break several miles outside the city. He’d started bemoaning the logistics they had to work out for that evening, trying to get all these guys fed and coordinated and bedded down and what they were going to do with the horses, and she had to cut him off with “They’re not coming.”

The guards and drivers looked up from their roadside sandwiches at a furious, smothered explosion of sound. They glanced at each other as the massive skeleton growled down at the priestess, but she didn’t seem worried, so they resumed eating as Sans carried on snarling and gesticulating.

Frisk could understand why he was upset, but the third time he ended a sentence with “—‘n did I mention I’m not a fuckin’ horse?!” was enough. “Sans,” she said, and he stopped. “Calm down and think about it. This may actually be safer. Have I ever shown you how I can hide something with a barrier?”

“Uh…” The boss monster shrugged crankily. “I know you’ve got a lotta different tricks.” Snort. “Any chance ya have somethin’ that’ll pull the wagons for us?”

“Yes. You.”

Sans blinked, and covered his face with one hand. “God damn it.”

Frisk turned her back to the guards so she could grin at him through the veil. “It takes a lot of strength, but if it’s just the two of us and the wagons, I could keep us completely hidden for short periods,” she said, more somberly. “In your opinion, is it safer to move by night, or camp outside the border till morning and then make as much time as we can?”

The skeleton tapped his dusty slipper on the grass, thinking out loud. “It’s probably better t’go at night. A lot of this place is so flat that you can see fer miles on a clear day. I can get by pretty well in the dark, so yer right. If we don’t have all of these dorks walkin’ with us ‘n makin’ noise, you’d just need ta cover up the wagons. It’s mostly bedrock out here, so with the wind blowin’ the sand around, we shouldn’t hafta worry about tracks.”

“I see. How far should we try to get tonight? I don’t think we can make it all in one push.”

“Not if I’m all we’ve got,” he grumbled. “Let’s get t’the fence and see how we’re doin’.”

Frisk had a word with the drivers; when they started again, they went at a quicker pace, the better to reach their destination and allow the men and horses time to get back to the nearest village before dark.

She grew more and more apprehensive as the hours passed, and finally dug out her satchel of clothing, asking the monsters to close their eyes so she could change into a more practical dress than her High Priestess leg-trap. Not long afterward, the wagon slowed and ground to a halt; they were at the border, a day’s journey from the Underground.

~

Sans waited till the other humans were almost out of sight to tell the monsters, “Come on out, guys.”

All but the flame monsters piled out to stretch their legs and wings while Sans ran a trace of red magic along the wire fencing. Frisk watched him pluck at a seemingly solid strand, revealing a length of twine holding two cut pieces together. “Humans go in ‘n out this way,” the skeleton informed her. “’s like havin’ a gate. They just untie it and tie it back up behind ‘em.”

Frisk shook her head and hugged herself tighter under her cloak. Sans didn’t have time to admire how the cold air had turned her cheeks red, or be really irritated at how the men had all gawked at her without her veil, but he did it anyway while the monsters got ready to resume their places. “So,” the skeleton said, resigned, “how’re we gonna do this crap?”

Five minutes later, Sans was trudging along in the fast-fading light, his hands shoved in his pockets, the wagon’s shafts wedged between his wrists and his hipbones so he could pull it in lieu of a horse. Frisk sat in the driver’s seat of the second wagon, whistling softly and watching the tufts of red magic keeping its shafts upright. Sans had to admit that the flat terrain and the laws of physics made it easy to keep the wagons going once they’d started…but it still sucked.

“Are you doing all right?” the priestess asked at one point.

“Neigh,” he responded, and she started snrrking so hard that he threatened to stop and make her pull the damn wagon. Then he had to deal with that mental imagery until it got darker and he could focus on maintaining a tiny speck of magic to sharpen his night vision. It was nearly a new moon out, perfect for moving in secrecy.

It happened some time after midnight. The monsters had fallen asleep; the priestess was dozing, and Sans was on the verge of stopping for the night when a shriek rang out from the wagon behind Frisk, who nearly fell off her seat. Sans had to lift her down for her to run back, leap into the wagon, and rouse Vulkin from a nightmare, humming urgently to quiet her.

“Shit,” Sans muttered as a torch flared in the distance. “Hey, kitten?”

She didn’t waste any time: a whistle raised a golden bubble around them, and Sans winced at the sheer power crackling through it. For the first time, he found he was less worried about being trapped inside a barrier than he was about the amount of magic it was costing her.

Minute after minute passed. Strange human voices drew way too close, and Sans could only stand there while Frisk held the spell steady, diverting enough magic to soothe the terrified monsters. The giant skeleton had no idea how she was blocking both sound and light and hiding the barrier’s presence from the other side while she hummed, but she did it, because the poachers soon concluded that it’d been a false alarm and wandered back the way they’d come. “They’re gone, sweetheart. Drop it,” Sans ordered, and he heard a ragged sound as the barrier evaporated.

That was enough. Sans set the wagons’ brakes, grabbed as many rocks as his remaining magic could carry, and formed stacks under the shafts to hold them upright, then stuck most of his head into the back of the wagon. “I’m so sorry,” whimpered Vulkin. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not yer fault,” he said roughly. In the monster’s glow, he could see the priestess lying on the wagon floor, resting her head on her forearm as she struggled to catch her breath. “Hand ‘er over.”

Later, he would kick himself for dragging Frisk into the cold again, but he had to see for himself that she was okay. Sans bundled her under his coat and sat down against the wheel, folding her into the crook of his arm while he summoned up heat and softness, everything a skeleton usually couldn’t offer.

That was all well and good, but as she turned toward him, trying to reach up around his neck, something weird happened. He allowed her to stand on the ground and rest her weight against him, her arms sliding under his coat and over his bony shoulders; he’d almost gotten used to that amazing, fluttery, possessive thing his SOUL did when she was on him, but this time, it got physically warmer, and he felt like something was…leaving him? What—

Frisk’s whole body jerked. She pulled her head back enough to stare at him. “Sans? What did you do?!”

“I…” Sans had to close his sockets against a rush of dizziness. “I dunno.”

The priestess withdrew her arms and looked down at her hands. She raised one and snapped her fingers, and another barrier roared to life around them. “What the crap, Frisk?” Sans rasped. “Ya don’t have the strength fer that!”

“I do now,” she said blankly. “How…how did you give me magic directly? Is it—”

Just like that, the dizziness had become full-on vertigo. “Sansy needs t’go night-night,” the skeleton mumbled, and the darkness politely stepped up to pull him back down with it.

~

A band of poachers had made camp near the river. Their sentry glanced up from his breakfast, then leapt to his feet and called out as someone emerged from the morning mist. “Whoa! Easy, pal,” said the stranger, stopping a polite distance away and holding his hands up. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble. I’m just checkin’ somethin’.” He made a strange face, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how faces worked. “Have ya heard who’s s’posed to be out here right now?”

“Maybe,” the sentry admitted. He eyed the interloper’s oddly pale hair, the contrast it made with his black coat and red shirt, and lowered his crossbow. “Depends what you’ve heard.”

“Someone from the High Priestess is passin’ through, doin’ somethin’ with a buncha monsters,” said the newcomer, lowering his arms very slowly. “I was makin’ sure ya weren’t them. We’re pretty new at this, so—”

The sentry gave a bark of laughter. “Dumbass! It’s the High Priestess. She’s out here with nine or ten monsters, all by herself.”

“Really?” The stranger blinked too many times. “Hot damn.” He laughed, too, sort of. “Too bad we can’t get magic outta her, huh?”

The sentry leered at him in male camaraderie. “Ever seen her in person? I know what I’d get out of her!” He slapped his leg, oblivious to the stranger’s twitching eye and clenched fists. “Well, if you’re new to the business, take it from me: keep any humans you find and save ‘em for ransom, ‘specially her.”

Blink. “Ransom?”

“Yeah. Ransom,” the poacher said impatiently. “You know who her dad is, right?”

The pale-haired stranger blinked again. “Duke Whatshisface?”

“Seriously?” The sentry shook his head in disbelieving pity. “Her dad’s the King, dipshit. You never heard about it?” He gestured expansively with the crossbow, enjoying the stranger’s dumbfoundment. “No joke. The old man used to fuck anything that’d hold still long enough. There’s five or six kids left that we know of, and she’s his favorite.” His grin broadened. “You really didn’t know? Man, you’re fuckin’ stupid.” He flapped his hand. “Get out of here. Go on home before you trip ‘n kill yourself.”

In a daze, the stranger put his hands in his pockets and turned around. “Oh, by the way,” he said, and without warning, something erupted from the ground, impaling the sentry’s foot.

His screams brought his comrades running to see him clutching a huge white bone sticking out of the bedrock, and a stranger pointing wildly toward the river. “Holy crap, it came from over there!” he shouted. “It’s that big-ass skeleton thing! It’s definitely over there!”

Only one of the poachers tried to say, “Who’re you?” before another line of projectiles slammed into the ground heading away from them; he ran to follow the rest of the group, leaving the luckless sentry to try to wrestle the bone free. When he looked up to demand the stranger help him, there was no one there.

“Fuckin’ fuckstick,” Sans muttered to himself from a few hundred yards away, jerking a hand to summon more bones and make it seem like they were still under attack. “I oughta fuckin’…” He kicked a rock so hard that it hurt his stupid wimpy human toe.

Fuck-a-duck. He couldn’t go back to camp like this. With the mist covering him and the poachers haring off in the opposite direction, he could think things over for a minute, starting with whether Frisk had ever come out and said who her father was.

…No, she never had. He’d just remembered something about Rosa – who he now knew wasn’t even her mom – working for a duke, and reached a reasonable conclusion that was totally wrong. It was probably such an open secret that she either hadn’t thought to tell him or hadn’t wanted to in case he treated her any differently. She was probably sick of that already…

Sans was too lost in thought to see something moving in the mist, following him away from the poachers’ camp along the riverbank. When he absently turned to stare at the water, it vanished, only to reappear as he turned again.

So, Frisk had pulled this crazy stunt because there was nothing else she could do about the monsters being sold. According to everything Sans had seen, only the Cardinal or the King could go over her head; therefore, while Duke Whatshisass was in charge of doling the monsters out to new owners, it probably wasn’t him who’d actually decided to sell them. The Cardinal hadn’t bothered her since she said she’d be retiring, and she hadn’t mentioned him at all, which just left the King.

Sans had seen for himself how much the old man treated her like a daughter, go figure. Knowing Frisk, she’d probably told His Majesty to his face that she intended to free those monsters, and he’d decided to keep her out of serious legal trouble and also remind her who was boss by ordering them sold right away. No wonder she’d been willing to flip him the bird right back by stealing the monsters and getting public opinion on her side.

Against all logic, Sans felt his poofy lips curling upward. In a weird way, this was the push he needed to be a little less miserable about not deserving her and a bit more smug that she’d picked him over the zillion guys desperate to snag an illegitimate princess. At this point, she transcended the concept of anyone deserving her. He still thought he sucked, but so what? If he hadn’t imagined what she’d said the other night, then…

The mist was beginning to thin out as the sun came up. Sans paused and glanced behind him, but nothing was there. He turned back toward their camp, reaching for his chain. Better not confront her about something she hadn’t really been hiding in the first place, though now he was determined to ask about her m—

Only the hiss of something flying through the air alerted him in time to fling up a wall of bones, barely deflecting a blow aimed at his neck. Before he could even swear aloud, more things came at him, and he instinctively turned to run away from their camp.

“Hey! HEY!” a voice shouted. Sans’ human ears perked up at the sound. “Come back here, meat-wad!”

His aim wavered as he threw a wave of pointed bones behind him, just missing the figure in the mist. It easily caught one and threw it straight back at him, only to see it glance off another wall of bone. “You!” the figure snarled. “How did you get Sans’ magic? Where is he?! Tell me, you damn coward!”

Sans dodged another one. “Hey!” Dodge. “Hey, listen, ya crazy broad! It’s—”

“Sans?” They both froze at the sound of Frisk’s voice. “Sans, where are you?”

The boss monster finally understood that expression about blood running cold. Fighting chills, he turned his head and opened his mouth to tell Frisk to run.

That moment of distraction was all the figure needed: Frisk came up just in time to see a bone spin end over end and smash into the back of his head, nearly knocking him out.

~

The High Priestess had heard Sans’ attack on the poachers as she was balancing a frying pan on Vulkin, who’d volunteered to help cook breakfast. Frisk just prayed Sans could divert them without killing anyone, or that he would at least try.

Several minutes later, though, he hadn’t returned. She was passing the pancakes around and had retrieved the bucket for more water when she heard shouting. Her stomach lurched at the sound of bones breaking. Sans!

Telling the monsters to stay put, Frisk reflexively grasped the bucket handle and ran out of the warded camp, keeping another barrier ready. “Sans?” She looked around, squinting through the last tendrils of mist. “Sans, where are you?”

She saw him a split-second before someone threw one of his own bones straight back at him. Frisk choked on a scream as he hit the ground, blood darkening the sand. “Sa—"

“Hey. You.”

Frisk gulped as their attacker advanced on her from the edge of the water. “What’d you say about Sans, human? You know where he is?” The tall monster emerged from the mist, removing her helmet as she glared down with one mostly-yellow eye. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you took out a boss monster! How’d you do it? Cheating?” She almost spat the last word. “Start talking, you—”

“Undyne?” Despite her fear, Frisk smiled. “Undyne, it’s you!”

A spearpoint flashed in the air, stopping the priestess as she tried to step forward. “How’d you get my name? Did you torture it out of someone, human? Huh? Was it Sans?!” The spear poked at Frisk, forcing her backward. “Tell you what,” Undyne snapped, pivoting toward the human-shaped boss monster, who was still struggling to get up. “Let’s assume you care at all about your accomplice here. Either you tell me what I want to know, or…” The spear rose.

“No!” In sheer panic, Frisk threw a barrier between Sans and the other monster.

A moment later, she realized her mistake: Undyne had only been threatening him, but as she looked back at Frisk, her gaze was now murderous. “That’s it! That’s how you did it! You used a frickin’ barrier!” She stomped the ground so hard that Frisk felt the bedrock tremble. “I ought to gut you like a fish, you damn cheater! Do you hear me? A FISH!”

“Wait!” The priestess held up her hands, too distressed to be amused by Undyne’s choice of words. “Undyne, please! I’m—” She bit her lip. That wouldn’t work; Undyne wouldn’t believe that she was Kris. It might make her so angry that she’d try to kill them outright. Frisk racked her brains for some way to prove it—she had never shown Undyne her scars, but…

The Royal Guard Captain scowled deeper, this time in puzzlement, as Frisk stared at the bucket dangling from her forearm. “You’re what, human?” Undyne demanded.

Frisk swallowed hard. “I want to show you something,” she said, and took a deliberate side-step toward the water, ignoring the raised spear. “It’s not a barrier, and it’s not some kind of trick. Just watch, all right? And don’t hurt him!”

Undyne glanced around them in case this was a diversion, and at Sans, now lying still and silent. Frisk saw him, too, and her expression made Undyne lower her spear ever so slightly. “What is it? Make it quick!”

Frisk took a deep breath. To Undyne’s bewilderment, the human’s expression went neutral. She went to the river, dipped up a half bucket of water, carried it back to Undyne, and threw it into her face.

~

Through the haze of pain and gut-wrenching fear, Sans distantly heard Undyne yelling at Frisk, and he felt the barrier she put up to protect him. He wanted to shake her for thinking of him and not herself, and for showing Undyne she could do it. Then there was a dreadful silence, and he couldn’t get up to—

“NGAHHHHHHH!”

Sans threw himself forward, not quite gaining his feet. Hitting the ground again on all fours, he looked frantically for Undyne and whatever horrible things she was doing to—

Frisk was dangling, not from a spear’s bloody point, but from Undyne’s bear hug as the dripping-wet monster swung the human in time to a joyous bellow of “My little bestiiiiiiiiie!”

What the…no, never mind. With an effort, Sans pulled off his disguise and tried not to collapse as the world lurched sideways. “Ow,” he muttered, just to be part of the moment.

Undyne froze, not quite releasing Frisk. “Sans? What the—where’ve you been?” she demanded.

Sans’ glare would have set a lesser monster ablaze on the spot. “Almost gettin’ murdered by yer crazy ass!”

“Really?” Undyne looked puzzled. Then her face lit up. “Ohh, that was you! Ha!” She gave her giant-toothed grin. “Sorry about that, boss. How’d you do that? And why were you saying all that crap to that human back there?”

“I was tryin’ ta throw him off our trail! We’re the monsters and the High Priestess!” Sans sat up and raised one hand to heal his aching skull, indicating Frisk with the other. “Now let ‘er go before ya squeeze her t’death!”

“Hm? Oh, right.” Undyne set Frisk down, letting the priestess catch her breath. “So you’re Kris, huh?” The Captain planted her hand on one hip, watching Frisk brush herself off. “Did you know she was a girl?” she asked Sans.

“Nope. She had us all fooled.” Sans closed his eyes to focus his magic. Fuckin’ Undyne. If he hadn’t been a boss monster, that would’ve killed him!

“It wasn’t my idea,” Frisk protested as she picked up the bucket. “I was only ten, and they said it’d be safer. Can I help you with that, Sans?”

Undyne waved her spear. “Whatever! You’re here now! Ignore him, he’s being a big baby.” She glanced around. “Let’s move out before any more damn humans show up. No offense.” Frisk inclined her head. “You say you’ve got more people with you?”

If the monsters had been happy to see Sans, they nearly turned to dust when Undyne strolled into camp and announced that she would be escorting them the rest of the way home. Once everyone had calmed down, Sans had to admit the fish-lady knew how to get people moving: they scarfed down the remaining pancakes and some leftover oranges, then loaded right up and took off toward the Underground.

“Man…” Undyne was holding it together better than he had the first time he found himself inside a barrier, only betraying her fear of the dome overhead with a tighter grip and her eye darting back and forth. “I can’t believe it. She really is the High Priestess, huh?”

“Yep.” Sans was very pointedly nonchalant, sauntering along as the barrier crackled and the fish monster twitched. Served her right. “She coulda killed me a zillion times over, but she never did. Hell, I tried ta kill her a few times, an’ she smacked me down without hurtin’ me.”

Undyne shook her head. “It’s just…Kris is back, and he’s a she, and she’s the High Priestess, and she’s crazy strong…but she’s still Kris. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

“Tell me about it.” Sans adjusted his grip on the shafts. He was pulling one wagon, and Undyne was pulling the other one alongside him; all it’d taken to get her going was a hint that she couldn’t do it. She was puffing a bit, but doing well now that they were moving. “So how’d you suddenly know it was her?” the skeleton asked.

“It was from the first time Papyrus introduced us,” Frisk said from the driver’s seat behind him. “I thought Undyne must’ve been upset because she was thirsty, so I grabbed a flower vase and tried giving her some water. …In her face.”

Sans guffawed, freeing one hand to slap his femur. “How’d that work out? Did the nice fish say ‘thank you’?”

“No, she just looked surprised. I thought she was feeling better, so I went back and—”

“The little punk tried to do it again! It was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen, but the kid wasn’t scared of me at all.” Undyne shook her head. “Then the King ordered us to be friends with the humans, so I figured I’d be the best damn friend Kris ever had.”

“And you were.” Frisk sighed. “When we get there, Undyne, I have something for you. In fact, we brought gifts for everyone. Did Alphys ever read the last two Adventure Lady novels?”

“Nah, and it’s been bugging her for years, the poor—” Undyne’s eye widened. “No. You didn’t!”

Sans let them chatter, profoundly grateful that they weren’t doing that weird thing where women hated each other for no reason. Having Undyne on their side, both physically and for moral support, was worth a dozen other monsters. “Did you get him that outfit?” she asked Frisk, nodding at the boss monster. “He’s been growing nonstop, so after a while, he just quit buying new clothes. It drives Papyrus nuts.”

“He’s my bodyguard, and it pays pretty well,” Frisk explained. “Those were a bonus for helping me shop for everyone.”

“Nice!” Undyne couldn’t reach over and smack him in congratulations, so she contented herself with jerking her head. “Good job, boss. Way to find a nice—what do humans call it? A ‘sugar mama’?”

Frisk burst out laughing and couldn’t stop, Undyne joining in as Sans sputtered. Stupid women, he thought sullenly. Why couldn’t they hate each other instead of giving him shit?

A few hours later, Undyne called a halt. “At this rate, we can get there by nightfall,” she said, offering a hand to the priestess half a second before him. “Er…do you have to, uh, go?”

Frisk looked uncomfortable enough for Undyne to nod hastily and point behind the wagon with her spear. “Not much privacy out here. We’ll just pretend you’re not doing anything, okay? Here, I’ll dig a hole for you.”

If that was awkward – and it was – it was nothing compared to the piscine monster making the others talk to cover the sound of Frisk’s business, then leaning over and whispering to Sans, very matter-of-fact, “Is it just me, or is it weird that Kris turned out to be so damn cute?”

Sans wished the ground wasn’t so flat around here, because then he could find a nice big pit and jump right on in. Luckily, Frisk suddenly said to herself, “Oh, dirt, why now?” and stuck her head beneath the wagon to call, “Undyne? Can you please get the little gray bag out of my satchel for me?”

The Captain obligingly found the only satchel with human clothing in it, rummaged around, and tossed the bag over the wagon and into Frisk’s lap. The young woman mumbled her thanks, but sounded so aggravated that Undyne asked, “What’s up? Are you okay?”

A prolonged sigh. “It’s nothing, just a stupid, ridiculous thing that human females have to put up with.” Frisk came back around a few moments later, stuffing the bag into the satchel. “Now, once we reach the Underground, should we all come in through the Grand Hall, or should Sans and I go through the Ruins into Snowdin?”

Sans exchanged glances with Undyne, who was munching on a roasted potato as if it was an apple. “You’d probably better not go straight to Asgore,” she said reluctantly. “When Snowdrake came back, he was pretty messed up, and the King was…uh…”

“Not happy?” Sans guessed.

Undyne’s eye closed. “Yeah. Not happy.”

“We’ll tell him what happened,” piped up Vulkin from inside the wagon. “We all heard the humans talking. Lady Frisk’s in big trouble for bringing us home, but she’s doing it anyway.”

The monsters made generally affirmative noises, and Frisk managed a smile.

“You are?” Undyne scowled. “Here, we’ve got to get going if we want to make it home before dark. Why don’t you give me the whole story on the way?”

They did, starting with Frisk being brought to the convent after her stint in the Underground and her memories being removed at her father’s request— “Oh, crap, that’s right,” Undyne interrupted. “That scumbag said the King’s your dad. Is that true?”

Frisk looked down at Sans in alarm. “Yeah, that’s what the guy told me,” Sans confirmed, not turning his head. “He was talking about her being worth a lot for ransom.”

The priestess grimaced. “I might not be, after all this.” She swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. I’m sorry if I—”

Sans made himself shrug. “It’s fine, kit—kiddo. Not like ya ever actually lied about it.”

“I don’t get it,” said Undyne. “If your dad’s the king, why aren’t you a princess?”

“Because I was one of many, many children the king had with women he wasn’t married to,” Frisk replied. “To be a princess, I’d have to have come from his actual wife. The first queen died childless, and his second wife died having the Prince.”

Undyne started. “Wait, so he…with just anyone, and you didn’t even count? What the hell is wrong with humans?”

“There’s the million-g question,” Sans mumbled.

Frisk sighed. “Anyway,” she said, “once I stopped begging to go back to the Underground, I settled down and studied as hard as I could. I was ordained a priestess when I was sixteen—”

The story continued until it was time for Sans to pick up with how he’d been caught by a party of five sorcerers almost a month ago. “I figured I’d hang out in jail until someone came ta get me, then kill ‘em,” he said conversationally, “but guess who came strollin’ downstairs?”

“The Duke asked me for help. There was a huge monster in the cells, and no one could decide who would be suitable to take him,” said Frisk. “I figured he must be a boss monster, and I scared them with stories about how powerful he was and how lucky they were that he hadn’t destroyed half the castle already. Then I said I’d take care of him.”

“And you tried to kill her?” Undyne snapped at Sans.

“Tried to burn ‘er, squish her, and blast her,” the boss monster said, almost proudly. “Nothin’ worked. Next thing I knew, I’d signed up fer a month of bein’ a witch ta learn how to grow better crops.”

“Which turned out to be much closer to three weeks, thanks to His Majesty,” Frisk said sourly. “I had each of these monsters taken from humans who were mistreating them so badly that even the Church wouldn’t allow it anymore, and I brought them out here to keep them from being sold again.” Even over the sound of the wheels crunching on sandy rock, they could hear her teeth grinding. “The King knew what I wanted to do, but he thought I shouldn’t have to worry my pretty little head about it anymore, so here we are.”

Sans considered pointing out that the King probably just wanted to keep her out of trouble, but decided he’d rather not be murdered. Undyne’s sole contribution was “…Damn.”

They rolled along in silence. “In three days or so, we can go back to the village and pick up the grain and other things Sans ordered,” the priestess said. “It won’t feed the entire Underground, but it will help.”

“That reminds me, Undyne—ya know the big farm over that way with the maple trees?” Sans nodded in a direction. “She’s gonna get it fer us.”

The Captain gaped at him. “She what?”

“I shit you not,” said Sans. “The human who owned it croaked, an’ she’s been negotiatin’ ta buy it. Turns out bein’ High Priestess makes ya super rich.”

Undyne muttered something under her breath, taking a fresh grip on the wagon shafts. Then her head swiveled, and without being told, Frisk immediately began whistling again. The air around them, which had been a translucent gold, solidified until it was nearly opaque. “They can’t see or hear us at all?” asked the fish monster, glancing up warily.

Frisk shook her head, and paused long enough to say, “They’d have to literally be touching the barrier to know we’re here.”

“No kidding?” Undyne squinted to watch the far-off group of humans through the barrier. Sure enough, they were moving away. “So,” she said presently, “how long are you gonna stay this time? Another month?”

“’Bout ten days,” Sans answered for her.

Undyne nodded slowly. The whistling stopped, and the human said, “Yes, if all goes well. It depends how long Asgore will let us stay, and what we’ll be allowed to bring back to the castle afterwards.”

“‘We’?” repeated the Captain.

It took Sans a second to realize what Undyne was even asking. He and Frisk had yet to discuss whether he’d be coming back to the castle after her visit, but the possibility of leaving her hadn’t even occurred to him, and she obviously felt the same way. “Yeah, I’ve gotta learn more witchy crap,” he said, hiding his elation. “Plus, the more monster stuff she gets ta show the other humans, the less trouble she’ll get in fer cartin’ these guys off in the first place.”

“And I’m not pulling the wagons back on my own,” Frisk added.

“Got it,” Undyne murmured, and Sans breathed an inward sigh of relief. Another thing they needed to hash out: what to tell the other monsters about…whatever they were now. Everything still depended on him working on himself, didn’t it? It would be easier to learn to control his magic in the proper directions inside the Underground. Who knew? Maybe if he kept thinking happy thoughts and not actively loathing himself, it’d really be possible. Maybe, if he was in good enough shape by the time they straightened things with Asgore, they could really—

The priestess resumed whistling, snapping him out of it. Undyne began bobbing her head along with the melody, and immediately started getting the rhythm wrong, but Sans decided not to say anything; he had a lot more thinking to do before they got home.

~

Very much against her will, they left Undyne just out of sight of the Underground’s principal entrance. She would announce their arrival, see the monsters to each of their homes, and then report to Asgore; knowing the King would insist on the wagons being inspected before he allowed them inside, they would also remain here.

Undyne checked over the little group of monsters as they climbed out, then paused. “Hey. Sans? Are you…gonna talk to Her Majesty?”

Frisk knew a loaded question when she heard one. Sure enough, Sans took a much longer time to reply than usual. “Yeah, I kinda have to. If she’s asleep already, I’ll leave ‘er a note.”

“Okay.” The Captain picked up her helmet from one of the shafts, pulled it back on, and nodded to them. “I’ll be in Snowdin as soon as His Majesty’s done with me. Good luck, guys.”

“We’ll see you soon,” Frisk replied, giving her a smile and ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. This was it. They were here!

The monsters trotted off, and they very faintly heard Undyne hail the sentries from atop the rise. “Welp,” Sans said. “This way.” Frisk obediently grabbed her satchel, which she’d stuffed with apples and potatoes, and set off after him, trying to be happy and grateful and not on the verge of barfing.

~

It was another cold, boring day in Snowdin. The monsters were pretty sure they knew what was going to happen today – nothing – and that it was going to keep happening, and it was hard to care much about it anymore. Sure, Papyrus kept nattering about how Sans and a mysterious human had told him they were going to come back to the Underground soon and everything would be all right, but…Papyrus. The denizens of Snowdin carried on with nothing as usual, secure in the knowledge that—

Every monster in town stopped what they weren’t doing and looked around in confusion. Magic was building in the air like smoke from a barely contained fire; there was a hhhwp, and in the empty space in front of the skeleton brothers’ house, there now stood a boss monster in black slippers and a tiny human peeking out from beneath his overcoat. “I told you to wait,” she scolded him, moving the coat aside like a giant curtain.

“What? You were the one whinin’ about how cold it was,” retorted the skeleton.

“Hey!” To their surprise, Undyne sprang up from where she’d been sitting on the step. “Where have you nerds been?” she snapped. “It’s been five frickin’ hours! Were you talking to Her Majesty, or what?”

“Nah, we got lost in the Ruins,” said Sans. “Tori’s asleep, so I left her a note like I said. What’re you doin’ here already? Is everyone okay?”

Undyne looked at them narrowly, then said, “Yeah, it turned out Asgore was already in the Grand Hall, so we didn’t have to waste time finding him.” She had changed into the outfit Frisk remembered: a short jacket, wool shirt, long pants and red boots. “Everyone’s home by now. I left Ice Cap with his family a few minutes ago.”

Frisk nodded gratefully. “What did the King say?” she asked, setting her satchel down.

Undyne hesitated. “Well…he was happy to see everyone, but then they started talking about how the High Priestess was coming in through Snowdin, and he wasn’t happy anymore.”

“How not-happy is he, exactly?” Sans demanded. “Is Frisk in any danger?”

“Nope. The others kept going on about how you saved them from the other humans, and when I told him you were Kris, he got really quiet.” Undyne put her hands in her jacket pockets. “He said you could stay until we ‘know your true intentions.’ I have to babysit you, and he wants to talk to Sans as soon as possible, but that’s it.”

Sans and Frisk breathed sighs of relief. “Good enough,” said the boss monster. He stood on tiptoe, the better to see most of the way across Snowdin. “Where’s Pap?”

Shrug. “I don’t know. No one’s in the house. He must be at the store or something.”

Frisk rubbed her arms unconsciously, turning in circles to look around them, especially at the light-spangled house. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “I—” She swiped at her eyes.

The Royal Guard Captain stepped over to the High Priestess and put an arm around her shoulders. “You know what? May I be the first, K—Frisk, to say: welcome back.” She gave the human what was, for her, a gentle squeeze. “C’mon. We’ll introduce you to everyone again. We can take it nice and slow, no pressure to—HEY!” Undyne had spotted a nearby cluster of monsters staring at them. “What are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen a human before? I know you have!” She pointed at Frisk, who was still tucked beneath her arm. “Remember Kris?”

Frisk quickly forgot her irritation as several monsters hurried over. “Kris! Bro!” One dinosaur-like creature shouldered its way through the crowd, hopping from foot to foot. “Is that really you? Do you remember me? Hi, Undyne!”

Of course she remembered Monster Kid, who was only a little bigger now, still wearing the same armless sweater—twelve years obviously didn’t go as fast for monsters as it did for humans! There was the bunny who ran the store, Gyftrot – stuff still dangling from his horns – a couple of the various dogs she’d petted and thrown sticks for…

Once the first wave of pleasantries had subsided, it was time to tell them the reason for her visit, what Sans had been up to, and why “Kris” had turned out to be a lady. She noticed a few of those who hadn’t greeted her falling back to go spread the news, but saw no signs of Papyrus.

She wasn’t the only one: right in the middle of a very important discussion on someone’s baby sister being ready to hatch soon, Sans let out a growl that shut everyone up at once. “Where’s my brother?” he asked.

Shrugs and mumbles all around. “He was staring at the river again,” volunteered Gyftrot.

Sans waited for more information, then nodded. “Okay, everyone,” he told the little crowd. “We’re gonna head inside for a minute. If anyone sees Pap, don’t tell him I’m back yet, don’t mention Kris, and don’t do anything to freak him out. Got it?”

A chorus of agreement. “Don’t freak out,” someone said helpfully to Papyrus, who had just stepped into view.

Papyrus froze, staring up at Sans. “BROTHER?” he said. Then: “BROTHER! NYEHHH HEH HEHHHHH!” He leaped up and threw his arms around Sans’ massive ribcage, doing a pullup of sheer joy. “YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE REALLY HERE THIS TIME, LAZYBONES! I THOUGHT…THE GREAT PAPYRUS THOUGHT—”

“Yeah,” Sans mumbled. “Hey, Pap.” He hugged him back for a long moment, then glanced downward. “She said she’d bring me back safe, didn’t she?”

Papyrus looked at Frisk, who was grinning. He looked at Undyne, who was grinning and nodding. The younger skeleton released his brother and launched himself straight at his best friend, tackling her with a wail of “THANK YOU, UNDYYYYNE! NYEHH!” Before the Captain could correct him, Papyrus dropped her and caught Frisk up in a less forceful but similarly enthused hug. “THANK YOU, HUMAAAAN! I—” He stopped, and turned his head to look at her quizzically. “NYEH. WHY AM I THANKING YOU, HUMAN?”

“Ya met ‘er the last time we talked, Pap, in the dream,” Sans reminded him. “An’ you were right. She is Kris.”

Papyrus blinked, still holding on to her. “I SEE,” he said sagely. “NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS RIGHT! I…I…” His eyes rolled up, and Sans caught Frisk just before she hit the snow along with the fainting skeleton.

“Geez. He probably hasn’t eaten anything or slept in a couple days. No worries, we can fix that!” Undyne punched Sans reassuringly in the ribs, then bent and rummaged in her friend’s “armor,” helping herself to the house key before slinging Papyrus over her shoulder. “Listen up!” she shouted at the assembled monsters. “This is all very exciting, but these guys’ve been traveling for a couple days straight to bring the others back to us. We’ll see everyone in the morning, okay?” She poked Sans as he turned to teleport into the house. “Not you! Asgore’s waiting. Get your bony butt over to Alphys’ place before he comes looking for you.”

Frisk gripped his sleeve, but she made herself say calmly, “It’s fine. We’ll be here when you get back,” as she picked up her satchel.

He stared at her for a moment, then gently removed her hand, and was gone.

Undyne let them into the house, flipping the witchlights on and kicking the door shut as Frisk walked into the living room. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest of dwellings, and it didn’t help that Papyrus had probably been stress-cleaning—it would explain why the couch cushions were still damp from the last time he’d mopped them, and why the pet rock by the kitchen was barely visible under a pile of rock-candy shards. Had Sans set those out for his brother to use, just waiting for the pun to sneak up and hit him out of nowhere?

“Here you go, Pap,” Undyne said briskly, tramping up the stairs while Frisk marveled at how much smaller everything was than she remembered. The priestess heard her deposit Papyrus in his pirate-ship bed, slam the door behind her, and come back down to pull a kitchen chair out for Frisk. “Have a seat. Sorry, but they don’t have anything in the fridge.”

“That’s all right,” Frisk said. She unbuckled the satchel and offered Undyne an apple.

The Captain took it politely, but as Frisk glanced down to dig another one out for herself, the monster chomped the apple nearly in half, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “So,” she said casually, “what were you and Sans up to in the Ruins? No one’s dumb enough to just get lost in there for that long.”

Frisk felt her face grow stiff and hot. “I had to stop and rest because I used too much magic today,” she answered truthfully, and Undyne nodded. “I…actually, maybe you’d know this—is it possible for someone to directly give someone else some of their magic?”

The Captain paused, her eyebrows rising, a smile growing into a giant grin. “Haven’t you heard of—”

Frisk’s face got even hotter. “Not like that! I just mean, if you were weak and needed a little extra power, could, say, Asgore or Alphys give you a handshake, or a hug, and lend you some magic?”

“Nope. They couldn’t.” When Frisk looked skeptical, Undyne sighed, then made a fist. “Look, pretend this is my SOUL.” Another fist. “This one is…we’ll say Alphys.” Frisk wondered if it was her imagination, or if her friend’s face was turning red, almost purple under the smaller blue scales. “My body’s made of magic, and so is hers. But my SOUL is self-contained, and so is hers. Even if I took a chunk of my magic and handed it to Alphys—” She knocked her fists together. “Nothing would happen. She can heal me, but that’s just repairing damage, not giving me power that I could use to attack someone or do my own spells, assuming I knew any. There’s no way to combine or exchange magic unless you’re trying to have a kid, and that’s a whole different thing. It takes a lot of power and concentration, and…it’s different.” She was definitely purple now. “Why are you even asking?”

The priestess thought about it. She made a fist, and loosened her fingers until she could slide the fingers of her other hand through it. “After you left today, I was tired, and Sans gave me some of his magic again,” she said distantly. “Monsters can absorb a human SOUL, but…” Her fingers wiggled. “I don’t think it works both ways. Humans can’t take a monster’s SOUL, at least not directly into ourselves.”

Undyne suddenly looked very, very uncomfortable. “That’s true,” she commented, “for normal monsters. For Sans, the rules are a little different.”

Frisk was so startled that she dropped her hands. “Are you saying I was able to take some of his SOUL because I’m human and he’s a boss monster?!”

“Hell no!” the Captain snapped. More calmly, she said, “It doesn’t work like that. If you really took something from him that he couldn’t get back, he’d be acting a lot weaker, or he’d be dust already.” She shrugged. “If he did somehow give you magic and you had to wait for him to recover, and he did, then nah, there’s no permanent damage.”

That was something to think about. Frisk remembered last night, when she’d just wanted him to hold her. There was that jolt of energy, and he’d almost immediately passed out… She thought of a few hours back, when she’d gotten anxious and her magical exhaustion had suddenly kicked in, forcing her to sit down. Sans had – somewhat correctly – assumed that she was getting cold feet, gotten impatient, and picked her up, and when she turned to put her arms around him, it’d happened again.

Then, of course, they’d been in a uniquely ridiculous quandary where she was brimming with magic that wouldn’t help them get anywhere, and he couldn’t even stand up. Thank God she’d had something for him to eat in her satchel, or they might have been stuck out there all night waiting for him to recover. When she half-jokingly suggested she try giving his magic back to him, he’d almost bitten her head off.

Wait. Wait a second. If his magic was supposed to be so dark and terrible and evil, etc., how had she not felt anything like that from him, much less been poisoned? Frisk had the sudden, idiotic, schoolgirl-ish urge to giggle—did the good magic come out of the top half of his body, while the evil stuff came out of the other thing?

Undyne was shaking her head in wonder. “You need to tell all this to Alphys. She’d have a better idea of what’s—”

Crack went the window.

Both women whipped around at the sound of shouting outside. Undyne wasted no time, slamming her chair back and throwing the door open to roar, “What the hell is going on?”

A moment of quiet; it might have ended there if Frisk hadn’t peeked around her friend’s shoulder. A group of four or five young monsters stood a few yards away, holding stones, their body language scared but defiant. Their ringleader was a feathery snow monster who looked very familiar. “Chilldrake, isn’t it?” the human asked.

The hoodlums drew back as Undyne’s face darkened. “What do you want, kid?” she snapped. “If you’ve got a good reason for breaking Pap’s window, I’m listening!”

“We want her gone,” the drake said, shifting his feet and glaring at Frisk. “Haven’t you seen Snowdrake? He’s not Snowdrake anymore! How can you let a human in here after what they did to him?!”

“And what if she blows us up?” his friend added.

Undyne grabbed a spear from thin air and thrust it in the monsters’ direction. They shrank back, but stood their ground. “That’s not up to a bunch of kids like you,” the Royal Guard Captain snarled. “His Majesty said she could stay. Are you telling me you know better than Asgore?”

They shuffled back again, but a moment later, Chilldrake drew himself up. “Does he know she’s the humans’ High Priestess?” He raised his voice for the monsters standing nearby to hear: “Does he know she makes barriers?”

That got an anxious murmur going. Frisk felt sick; this was everything she’d been afraid of, no matter what Undyne said, or Sans. She glanced around instinctively, but he wasn’t there.

“He knows way more than you do, punk!” snarled Undyne. She advanced down the steps, leaving Frisk in the doorway. “Now get out of here before I get you out of here!”

“Fine!” Chilldrake shook his ruff, dancing a little in place. “If she’s here, it’s not safe anyway! We should all leave before she traps us and drags us off!”

The murmurs were louder and more upset now. The Royal Guard Captain looked at the other monsters in disbelief. “Guys, you were just telling her how glad you were to see her again! She’s the same damn person she was fifteen minutes ago! Are you going to listen to this little—”

“Is she really the High Priestess?” the shopkeeper asked Undyne.

The piscine monster’s face said it all. Too late, she snapped, “It doesn’t matter! She only uses her magic to—”

Everything happened at once. A stone came sailing over Undyne’s head, straight at Frisk, who did not stop to think that it was better to get a black eye or a bad cut than to confirm their worst fears. Reflex kicked in, and a barrier flared in front of her, pinging the rock away.

Her one piece of luck was that every monster froze in place instead of screaming or running to spread the tale of the human who had snuck Underground to use barriers on them—every monster but Chilldrake. “See?” he screamed, flapping his wings so hard that ice crystals flurried off them. “What did I just tell you?! Get out, human! We don’t want you here, and if I have to go tell His Majesty that you’re using barriers, I’ll—”

Whump.

It wasn’t a rock, or a spear, or a barrier. A ball of pure flame struck the ground in front of Chilldrake, who yelped and hopped backward, crashing into his friends.

The monsters’ heads turned toward the magic’s source, the edge of the field to Frisk’s right; each one immediately dropped to their knees or the equivalent thereof, with the hoodlums dropping the rocks and throwing themselves flat on their faces.

Undyne took one look, shook her hand to dispel the energy spear, and went to one knee as another monster advanced. “Your Majesty,” she said in wonder, then apprehension. Her head ducked. “Majesty, I can fully explain and take responsibility for—”

A gesture silenced her. The monster came to stand in front of the house, her amber eyes coming to rest on the High Priestess, features impassive.

Frisk’s heart constricted. She was suddenly ten years old again, not knowing whether to be afraid, whether she should bow or do something royal. She came down the steps, and to her horror, she found herself breathing harder, eyes prickling, throat tightening. “Lady Toriel,” she whispered.

Toriel folded her arms at the waist. She wore a plain robe, adorned only with the Delta Rune in white—the same thing Asriel had worn the day she fell into the Underground, only purple instead of black. The former Queen regarded Frisk for a long, terrible moment. “Where is the human named Kris?” she asked sternly.

It took all of Frisk’s training, all her experience as an exalted and lonely member of the Church’s highest echelon, to speak up. “The human child you knew was not a boy, and his name was not Kris. He was a girl, and his name was Frisk.” She swallowed. “I am Frisk.” Damn it, her voice wouldn’t stay steady. “I’m back, Lady Toriel. Please—”

Toriel took a step toward her. Another, and another. Her white-furred hand came up to brush Frisk’s hair from her face. The boss monster stared into her eyes…

And she stooped, opening her arms and folding Frisk into a huge, warm, cloud-soft hug.

Everything pent up behind Frisk’s defenses rose in a surge that crumbled the walls like wet paper. She still smelled like cinnamon and golden flowers, Frisk realized, and she wasn’t ashamed to grab hold of the velvet robe and get it soaked with tears again.

“My poor child,” the boss monster murmured, stroking Frisk’s hair as the priestess’ shoulders heaved. “My poor, dear girl. I’ve missed you so much.” She hugged her tighter. “I cannot tell you how very glad I am to see you again.”

Frisk was sobbing without restraint now, not caring what anyone saw or heard or thought of her. Toriel rested her hand on the back of the young woman’s head and looked up for the first time, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Am I to understand that this human is not welcome here?” She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to. “Would anyone like to say anything?”

Chilldrake had collapsed in on himself. His beak moved, but all he could muster was “…High Priestess, Majesty.”

Toriel’s hand grew heavier. “Is this true, my child? You’ve become the High Priestess?”

Frisk didn’t have the courage to raise her head. She just nodded.

The boss monster inhaled, and sighed, her diaphragm moving under Frisk’s cheek. “Then we are very fortunate to have you, Frisk.” She glanced up, once. “Wouldn’t you agree, young man?”

Chilldrake did not nod so much as vibrate his head too fast for it to be visible.

“Splendid. We…what, my child?” Toriel listened as Frisk turned her head to mumble more clearly. “They broke Sans and Papyrus’ window? My word.”

Frisk didn’t see who rushed forward, but she heard a scramble to be the first to check the cracked glass and figure out how to fix or replace it or something right now.

Toriel waited for the priestess to get herself under control, then stepped back and took Frisk’s hand. “Captain,” she said, and Undyne was instantly on her feet, fist on her chest. “We have much to discuss. Please accompany us.” And with as much grace and ceremony as if the old house had been a marble palace, the boss monster went inside, allowing Undyne to glare once more at the crowd, then shut the door gently behind them.

[reyesstrand]

not sure if I’m allowed to send another but, what about 85 for tarlos?

sorry for the wait for this, but this idea got in my head and it kind of got out of control — a good ending to this series, i guess!! i hope you enjoy! 

prompt taken from this list. also available on ao3!!

Three weeks to the day after the solar flare, Carlos receives a cryptic text from his mom: come for lunch today?

He mulls it over; he loves his mother, and it’s no secret to anybody that knows him that he’s a total mama’s boy, but there’s got to be a reason behind her impromptu meal, and an evil part of his mind tells him it has to be bad news. She doesn’t mention anything about his sisters joining them, and Carlos doesn’t know if that should stress him out more or less. If it’s something bad, he’d assume that he and his sisters would find out at the same time — but that only leaves him more confused.

She’s a strong woman, and is a complete health-nut — ever since his abuela started having mobility issues, his mother’s been a champion for organic eating and natural sleep aids and doing yoga every morning. Carlos can’t put bad news from the doctor completely off the table, but he starts to drift towards the other countless possibilities — and so he can’t say no to her. Even if it’s his only day off that lines up with TK’s schedule, he spares a glance at his softly snoring boyfriend before figuring the man’s close enough with his own father that he’ll have to understand a shift in plans. And so Carlos finds himself more alert than he’d been when he’d rubbed sleep from his eyes and initially checked his phone five minutes ago, thumbs hovering over the screen before he sends her a simple of course, mami, and sets about getting ready for the day after pressing a quick kiss to TK’s hairline.

He’s showered and had his coffee and is trying to quietly get dressed when Carlos hears TK groan and grumble, clearly fighting between catching a little more sleep and getting out of bed. Carlos watches with a small smile as TK slowly sits up when he realizes he’s alone in bed, before their gazes catch, and his heart soars as TK’s eyes visibly light up at seeing him.

“Everything okay?” TK asks, voice still deep and groggy, and Carlos nods as he starts on buttoning up his shirt.

“We might have to change our plans today,” Carlos says apologetically. “I really—fuck, I really wanted to spend he day with you, but my mom wants me to come over and she usually doesn’t spring stuff like that on me unless there’s something wrong, and—”

“Hey,” TK cuts him off, and Carlos raises his brows at him. “It’s okay, seriously. Marjan’s been bugging me to take Buttercup to get some pampering, anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Carlos says, and TK grins at him.

“Damn straight.”

TK tilts his head up, clearly looking for a kiss. Carlos huffs out a laugh and comes in close, so their mouths are nearly touching, before he whispers, “You have no shame, do you.”

“Nope,” TK grins, eyes crinkling in the corners, popping the p before he closes the space between them and gets the kiss he wanted. “I’ll see you later, though?”

His eyes shine with hopefulness, and Carlos nods earnestly. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”

There’s another brief kiss, before Carlos sighs as he presses their foreheads together.

“I hate just leaving on you,” Carlos admits, even though the thoughts surrounding what his mom’s intentions are with lunch are swirling around his mind.

“I’ll be fine,” TK says, ducking forward to press another kiss to the corner of Carlos’ mouth. “Say hi to your mom for me.”

It’s only half a joke — TK’s been talking, metaphorically, about meeting Carlos’ family for a week or so. He mentions it whenever Carlos talks about childhood memories or a story from one of his sisters, noting that Carlos has known his dad technically even before he knew TK. But it never evolves from a few jokes, and even though Carlos wants nothing more than to continue to make their relationship solidified through introducing each other properly to the people that mean the most to them, he doesn’t know how to seriously approach that subject.

Instead of trying now, Carlos leaves with a promised, “I’ll see you later,” before he grabs his keys and phone and makes his way out of his home.

The half-hour drive goes by mostly in a blur, because he’s too caught up in what might unfold at the lunch. They usually try to have big family dinners bi-weekly, due to everyone’s work schedules and his sister’s kids’ schedules, but he can’t remember the last time a meal like this was just dropped on him the day-of. He does have the right state of mind to stop and grab his mom a bouquet of lilies, her favourite, before he pulls up to the humble farmhouse he’d lived in his whole childhood.

“Is everything okay?”

The words are out of his mouth within seconds of stepping into the house, half-startling his mother as she pours out two glasses of sweet tea.

“Can’t I ask my favourite son to have lunch with me when I know it’s his day off?”

Carlos flushes a bit, handing the flowers to his mom as she pulls him in for a hug. “I’m your only son.”

“Still my favourite,” she grins, smacking a kiss on his cheek before she gestures toward the back deck. He follows her, taking a deep breath as he goes.

* * *

“I know something is up, baby.”

He'd been expecting something regarding her own well-being or health, or his abuela's, so when the conversation turns to him he's sort of confused. And Carlos has grown up hearing from people that he has his mother’s eyes, and as he looks into them now, he thinks he sees the similarities as she looks at him with a particular warmth laced with concern he’s been accustomed to since he was born.

“You know, I saw an interesting photo of you the other day,” she says it off-handedly, but Carlos still manages to choke on his drink. She doesn’t hesitate, going on to describe the picture he knows intimately because he posted it to his Instagram only forty-eight hours ago: him and TK, smiling as they stand close, too close to just be friendly to any onlooker, taken by Paul in the late hours of the night as they strolled around downtown after their shifts. He hadn’t even considered his family seeing the photo, and he silently rues the day his sisters made their mother various social media accounts so she could keep up with their lives. Her voice turns soft, as she squeezes his arm and asks, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Uh, I have to pee.”

He says it quickly enough that he can run off to inside the house, where the remnants of their lunch sits scattered over the counter. Carlos beelines for the bathroom and leans against the sink as he pulls out his phone.

how do you feel about my mom knowing about you?

seriously.

Carlos sends the messages to TK and taps his phone against the heel of his palm as he waits for a response. He thinks back to his mother’s implications — that she knows about them, is okay with them — and figures that he could always lie. It’ll look suspicious as hell, of course, after he just fucked off like that, but he’s never really brought any boyfriends around before. Mainly because he’s never been in a serious enough relationship to warrant that. But he thinks — he knows that there’s something real between him and TK, and he wouldn’t hate his mom and eventually his sisters knowing about him and meeting him and welcoming him into the fold of their family dynamic. But he needs to make sure this is still something TK’s okay with, that it’s going at his pace.

TK texts him back quickly, like always. i was serious about wanting to meet her someday. maybe even soon. so if you want to talk about me i support you.

you’re sure? Carlos texts back, as he feels his nerves starting to both tamper off and confusingly grow at the same time as he walks toward the backyard again, preparing to let his mother into this part of his life.

100%. tell her only the good things, i wanna impress her, TK replies, along with a string of heart emojis. Carlos huffs a little, quickly typing out, she’ll love you no matter what, before pocketing his phone and sliding back into his seat across from his mother.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, meeting her eyes, and as he opens his mouth to continue, she quickly interjects.

“Don’t lie to me, Carlos,” she warns, though there’s warmth behind her words, a desperate plea to tell him that she wants to be included in this part of his life, no matter how new it might be. "You know you can talk to me."

So Carlos takes another deep breath, not really looking at his mother as he whispers: “I met someone, mami.”

He stares down at the ground; after a few seconds, he shifts his gaze to stare at the blooming gardens that live in clusters around the yard, various vegetables and flowers alike growing with vengeance as the summer welcomes them back into the world. When she makes a noise and he finally meets her gaze again, she’s looking at him with nothing but fondness.

“Oh, baby,” his mom is smiling, now, and she brings his face close to press a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s only been official for a few weeks but, um, I really like him,” Carlos admits, as his mother lovingly squeezes his hand. With a laugh, he adds: “I like him a lot. And I’d love for you to meet him.”

His mother leans forward and curls her arms around him, like she did when he was a kid and he felt too small to conquer the world, and he immediately feels calm wash over him. “I would love to, mijo.”

(Carlos has a flash of a memory, then, coming out when he was fifteen years old and terrified but desperate for his truth to be known. He first told his older sister Camila, and then his mother a couple of days later, and he remembers so vividly how they hugged his then-tiny frame, all knobbly bones and a height he was getting used to, both of them supportive and loving and adamant that nothing would change how much they love him. He towers over both of them now, but he feels protected in his mother’s arms, like he always has).

As they pull out of the hug, his mother elbows him good-naturedly. “Alright, tell me about this boy then.”

His mama’s grinning at him teasingly as she says it, and Carlos sits back and huffs out a laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck.

“His name’s TK. He’s a firefighter,” Carlos says, barely holding back a bigger smile when his mother makes an approving face at that tidbit of information. “He’s—he’s funny and beautiful and has the warmest heart.”

“I’m so happy for you,” his mother says, eyes bright with love, as if just listening to him talk about TK has made her realize how truly happy he is. And maybe it's allowed himself to look at inside retrospectively and figure out that yeah, he is happier than he's ever been. “I’m sure I’ll love him. You’ll have to bring him around.”

“I will,” Carlos promises, feeling like he’s floating on air. “Oh, and he’s from New York City.”

He says it pointedly, knowing his mother’s always wanted to travel to the Big Apple.

“Well,” his mother says, “I guess we’ll have to show your city boy how we do family dinners, then.”

She brings him in for another hug as she smiles, before she goes off to refill their glasses. Carlos sits back, considering the idea of TK being a part of his family, for good — and he finds that he wants nothing else in the world.

[thewrongexecution]

thinkin’ ‘bout final fantasy

I go by Not The Author for exactly the reason that I ain’t no expert on any given work of fiction, but I do like to make connections what make me seem smart: an illusion, haphazardly crafted by incident accident and supplemented by precocious pretentiousness. All the same, here are some fun thoughts I had that you might also enjoy!

I do have a point, that I do get to. I feel like I should say that ahead of time, all things considered. Like, I can appreciate if you can’t appreciate a shaggy dog story? But there is a point to all this.

...Eventually.

Spoiler Warning:

Final Fantasies 1, 6, 7, 7R, 13 and 15

Content Warning:

Discussion of death

Cussin’

Length warning:

5621 words

13 sections

16 digressions

Let’s dig in.

- - - - -

Final Fantasy 1 was not my first Final Fantasy experience, but I think it was the first I ever played by myself? The remaster for the GBA, came bundled with FF2 on the same cart, which I played briefly but did not complete and do not remember, except that it had Cid.

FF1 doesn’t have a Cid, but I really loved the narrative anyway, straightforward as it was, because it was very specifically about spitting in the face of an uncaring god who would doom the world for a laugh. Take these chains that bind us to darkness and, though we be forgot to history, strangle with them that selfsame darkness to bring an end to its tyranny.

((it is a terrible curse, to love time travel. so many grand expectations, so few ever met. play ghost trick, chrono trigger, radiant historia, majora’s mask, outer wilds. have you any recs yourself, lemme know! I digress.

((I digress a lot, as I may have mentioned. they’ll be noted in parenthetical, like this.))

This is the foundation upon which Final Fantasy is built, and while any student of architecture could tell you of many and varied perfectly valid construction techniques, it resonates. Grappling with an immutable past to course-correct an uncaring future is, too, an apt description of personal growth; a theme as universal as being alive. And I, as an impressionable youth, ate that shit up.

((I assume I was young, at any rate. my love for time travel, be it era-spanning or moment-stretching, is, I suspect, not entirely coincidental to my terrible temporal memory.))

And that was the tale of the studio, too. Final Fantasy was so titled because, the story goes, the developers knew they would shutter if it didn’t make bank. Staring your imminent demise in the face, knowing your fate is doom, and giving it your all, all the same.

And then they made another twelve, plus two-and-a-half MMOs, and god knows how many mobile games and spin-offs, and now the Fantasy is that there could ever be a Final one. so say I: life parodies art.

((the half-an-MMO is FF14 1.0, which no longer exists and is a fascinating tale, a rally against bleak futures all its own. I’ll [link] Noclip’s three-part documentary covering the developer’s side of things, because that’s the one I’ve seen. there’s plenty other material to hunt down, though, if you wanna.))

- - - - -

Final Fantasy VII is a game about fate, too. Particularly Death, that most ultimate of fates. Tragic, to be sure; preventable, or at least delayable, in many cases; necessary, at times, for the growth of something new.

Unrelenting. Unstoppable. Inescapable.

Death, and the fights against it, take many forms. There are the fascist death squads that hunt down your ragtag band and any dissent against their cruel masters, but these will only truly stop by cutting off the hydra’s head and building an entirely new society; eight dudes and their dog, faced with a corporate private military, can survive but never win. There are such disasters as do slay that hydra, be they natural or man-made. There’s the space alien and the apocalypse it ushers. There’s literal illness and injury, physical or otherwise. There are the deaths of loved ones, friends and family, that lead to some subtler deaths within those that survive them. The deaths of relationships, by neglect or abandonment. The ideological deaths we inflict on ourselves, accepting ever-growing lesser evils in the name of some impossible ideal.

Every day, the person we were becomes the person we are, and soon, the person we are will give way to someone new, and this, too, is a sort of death. In this sense, we tally Cloud’s deaths at least five: failure to become a Soldier and rebirth in shame, the massacre of Nibelheim and rebirth in grief, arrival at Midgar and rebirth in delusion, his cratering at the Crater and rebirth in nihilism, and his death and rebirth in the Lifestream of Mideel.

((you could prolly hunt down another two if you wanna be cheeky, but I lack the knowledge, motive and patience. frankly, this whole thing is to create a leading line of logic and probably isn’t, uh. academically ethical? or whatever the term is. I’m not necessarily wrong, but I’m definitely scuttling nuance. oh well!))

Now, I say “rebirth,” because that’s how deaths of identity more-or-less work. There’s usually some new identity waiting in the wings to take over. And rebirth is itself a notable theme, inasmuch as it is one outcome of death. But death is oft more final than that, and what people do in its imminence and wake is key here, too. Wutai’s collapse into an insular tourist trap. Avalanche’s vengeful fervor, in general and post-plate drop. Bugenhagen trying to pass his knowledge on to Red. The whole party’s ongoing post-traumatic depressive episodes.

Ultimately, death is the inescapable fate of all things. It’s what we do, in light of that, that makes us who we are.

- - - - -

Final Fantasies 13 and 15 are the only modern Final Fantasies I’ve beaten, and I bring them up because both deal very prominently with fate and death, and as Square’s most recent mainline FF titles, Remake can’t exist without comparison to them. Here’s what I remember:

Final Fantasy 13 was a game I enjoyed. The stagger system mixed up my casual FF tradition of Get The Big Numbers by putting a prominent UI element onscreen that says You Can’t Get The Big Numbers Unless The Bar Is Full. Suddenly there’s a natural-but-enforced ebb and flow to combat built in, where you gotta juggle chip damage, survival, and crowd control while keeping resources enough to burst down a staggered foe, but maintain situational awareness to swap back into survival mode if you’re not gonna down your enemy, all in something close to real-time. Very obviously a direct precursor to the combat of Remake. I didn’t realize the depth of it, but it was still super fun.

People at the time didn’t like the linearity of the game and, I can see that in retrospect? I think it’s closer to, there weren’t breakpoints, there wasn’t variety. It was cutscenes, combat, and the stretches of land between them; the only real thing for the brain to get a workout on was the combat, and eating only one kinda food is gonna make that food taste bland.

((I didn’t mind, but I like idle games, and, also probably had depression around then. Take that how you will.))

The story, though, I loved. You got your uncaring gods forcing mortals to do their increasingly-impossible bidding, cursing them to agonized unlife if they take too long, and with blissful, beautiful death if they succeed. It sucks! And here you have a ragtag band of incidental idiots trying to rebel against a system that, actually, wants them to? Like that’s the plan? Have mortals kill god and summon the devil to destroy all life, because god, doesn’t.... like life anymore?

((The lore gets more than a little impenetrable, and I remember bouncing off it a couple times. The throughline of God Sucks And Makes Zombies was good though.))

The biblical parallels are obvious, and if they weren’t, the final boss’ design will clue you in, god that’s a good design. hang on I can add pictures and already tossed a spoiler warning, here, look at this:

(per the Final Fantasy Fandom Wiki [X])

That’s literally The Holy Trinity But A Sword The Size Of A Building. It’s perfect.

Anyway, I love this game, because the heroes win, which is what God wants, so in winning, they lose, as was fated to be, right? Fuck All That, say the lesbians from space australia, as they turn into satan and, as satan, stop God’s shitty metal moon from crashing into space australia and destroying all life.

((this awakened something in me, though, as is becoming a theme, I wasn’t aware of it at the time. actually hold up I’m gonna rewatch that sequence.

((yeah okay wow on review that was aggressively cheesy and had a whole bunch of weird emotional whiplash that just leaves a super-bad aftertaste. I don’t really like it as an experience, but big bazonga lesbian satan with arms for hair is still a look-and-a-half.))

The whole thing is not entirely unlike if meteor was also Midgar, and there’s more than a few points where I went, hang on, are they trying to evoke 7 here? “Lightning” is ex-military and bad at emotions, Sazh is a black dad w/ guns and emotional trauma and I love him, quirky pink healer girl who might be an alien is here, the game starts on a train and leads into a robot bug fight; obviously it’s not one-to-one but the connections are there for a brain like mine to make, and only more prominent for the fact that FF7 was the more satisfying game.

((I cannot speak to 13-2 or -3; 13-2 was fun up until the enemies were abruptly 30 levels higher than me, more or less a mandate by the game for me to do all the side content, which I was not on-board with. I skipped 13-3 entirely, especially when I learned the whole game is on a timer. did not and do not need that stress in my life.))

- - - - -

But okay, FF13 was “too linear” and wasn’t doing super great. Enter Final Fantasy Versus 13, by which I mean enter Final Fantasy 15 actually, we don’t need any more of this 13 crap. And once again, I enjoyed it! ...Right up until it was bad.

Final Fantasy 15 was not a finished game, and we know this for certain now, because all its DLC was to make it a finished game. At the time, though, there was uncomfortable and inconsistent story pacing, only one playable character, relatively sparse combat mechanics... but it was open-world, and hey, that’s what you wanted, right? open, non-linear environments? I picked it up because, Teleporting Swordsman With a Motorcycle Sword. I am of simple pleasures, and those are they.

Of the little I remember, one point that’s stuck with me is the sequence following the Leviathan fight. See, we’ve been talking about fate and destiny and how Final Fantasy likes to spite them. Here in 15, our main man Noctis doesn’t want the destiny he’s been burdened with, to Become The King and Save The World from the Coming Darkness, or whatever. He’d really rather be doing, anything else? like hanging out with his buddies or actually getting married or, I dunno, grieving the death of his father. Nope! You don’t get to do that. Go find the ghost armaments of your dead ancestors so you can ~saaave the wooorld!~ I would have been in college around then, so, eminently relatable.

Now, on this journey, you meet a guy called Ardyn. He’s the sort of character that was built as an attack on me personally: sleazy, charming, possessing airs of casual familiarity with people he’s never met, kinda helps you out in tight spots, and also, by the way, vizier to the empire that killed your dad and wants you and your friends dead too. But not in the “secret good guy” way, he just likes fucking with you! he’s perfect.

Right up until the Leviathan fight.

See, Lunafreya, your betrothed--

((I’m so mad about this stupid, stupid garbage. I love Lunafreya on principle, but the game doesn’t bother to give her screentime. you only ever hear about her incidentally, which can be cool if you then meet the character and get to compare/contrast what you’ve heard, but the initial release only has her show up for this one chapter, and your party doesn’t really get to interact with her that much.))

Your betrothed is here and she’s some symbol of the peoples’ hope, right? she’s got light magic or something, and can actually commune with the gods. the gods are on your side, but you can’t actually understand a word they say, but she can, and that’s sick as hell. anyway.

You lose the fight against Leviathan, because you’re a shitty emo teen who doesn’t know how to use your ghost swords, and she got beat up earlier when Levi got all pissy at being summoned. And then Ardyn shows up in his magitek dropship.

Now earlier, Ardyn had Luna as his captive, completely at his mercy, and right now, he who would be king of kings, destined to save the world from darkness, is clutching at rock in a hurricane, beaten, wounded and dying.

Of the two, which do you think he stabs to death?

if you thought, “the protagonist, which will allow him to win, and subvert Final Fantasy’s themes of defying fate by having the villain be the one to do it, forcing everyone else to scramble for some alternate solution and deal with the fallout,” congratulations! You win disappointment, because that idea’s cool as hell and they didn’t. fucking. Do it.

((Ardyn, before this, had given me major Kefka vibes, and thinking on it now, the world descending into darkness in the 15 we never had could have played with even deeper parallels to FF6... but I never played 6, and that FF15 doesn’t exist, so... I’ll leave that analysis to better scholars.))

now, with the benefit of hindsight, that was never going to happen. too long in development hell, game had to ship, had no time or budget for mid-game upheaval. but at the time? made me lose any interest I had in Ardyn, made me mad at the developers for passing up on fulfilling the themes their series had explored in past, made me almost stop playing the game. I’m still mad about it for crying out loud!

((thinking about it gets me tensed up, coiled, with that sort of full-body thrum that’s best conveyed with letters that jitter around. best I can do here is bold italics, but it doesn’t have the right energy. it’s a fleeting feeling, but when it’s here? god. given the men that wrote this scene I would fight all of them and win.

((inhale...

((exhale...

((and move on.))

We, the player, never really meet Luna, so there’s no real... impact, no substance to it. It’s sad, but impersonal. villain kills damsel to inflict manpain on hero. that’s it. we’ve seen this song and dance before.

But kill Noctis? The character the player’s been controlling all this time, who they know intimately? Now it’s personal. Now your party members’ grief is a mirror to your own. And now you get to play as Luna, maybe? give the game time to flesh her out, have her bond with your old companions over their shared grief, and maybe use her connections and public speaking skills to rally the people of the world, in a perhaps-vain attempt to resist the oncoming darkness, while simultaneously using that public-facingness to drive her to hide her own fear and hopelessness...? That’s a complex character ripe for drama and tragedy right there! And then her, at the head of a story about people coming together to solve a global calamity themselves, rather than await their appointed savior?

Even then, but especially now... You can see the appeal, right?

- - - - -

Lemme step back and zoom out for a moment, because there’s one more kind of Fate to discuss before I finalize my thesis. Yes, I promise, there is a point besides being mad at FF15, this is still ultimately about Remake. Bear with me a little longer.

See, Remake’s premise is that it’s not quite FF7, but that itself is predicated on Remake being essentially FF7. Certain things must be in the Remake series, or it will cease to be the Final Fantasy 7 Remake series. The developers have gone on record saying as much, that they’ll still cover the thrust of the original, and that makes a lot of sense from a development standpoint. Building on an existing framework saves loads of time, and lets them focus on details as they have in Remake.

((I think they've already set up an in-universe justification for this, too. The party may have defeated the Whispers at Midgar, but the Whispers are the will of the planet. The only way to truly defeat them would be to defeat the planet itself, which: kind of the goal of the villains!

((a bit ironic, because the villains are the Whispers’ means to keep manipulating events. Remake backends a very large portion of the plot, and I don’t think Rufus seeing the Whispers is a throwaway detail. The party chases Sephiroth by chasing Shinra in the original, so even if the party has shaken free of the direct influence of the Whispers, manipulating Shinra should in turn manipulate the party.

((on top of which, Rufus prizes power, and the power to change or control fate-- something both the party and Sephiroth have seized-- would be as enticing as anything.))

But this begs the question: How much of Final Fantasy 7 is necessary before it stops being Final Fantasy 7? Do you need all nine characters? The Weapons? Rideable chocobo? Breedable chocobo? What about locations? Can you drop the Gold Saucer? or Mount Condor? or Mideel? How many minigames am I holding up? These are necessary questions, but so is this:

“Would a one-to-one recreation of the original game have the same emotional impact as when it released, twenty-three years ago?”

- - - - -

Now, the phrase “emotional impact” is necessarily kind of nebulous and subjective, so lemme dig into that a little bit.

The first significant chunk of the original FF7 takes place entirely in Midgar, which is one huge city. Every screen is densely packed; movement is typically constrained to narrow corridors and industrial crawlspaces. The whole world is deeply claustrophobic and visually hostile, by design.

This is FF7 for the first few hours, before a motorcycle chase deposits you outside city limits, and then... you hit the world map, and everything changes. The world is rendered in three whole dimensions, now! (Then, a technological marvel in its own right.) There’s a sky! There’s a horizon! Grass, mountains, the ocean!

Boundless, terrifying freedom.

From a mechanical standpoint, there’s only one real destination, an A-to-B with random encounters before a small enclosure with an inn and shops, no real change from what you’ve already been doing. But the mood? Everything’s fresh and new, now. Everything’s an unknown.

So, how do we do that again, two-and-a-half decades on?

Let’s say, something like this: Remake 2 starts with Cloud and Sephiroth en route to Nibelheim. For new players, this provides immediate intrigue: why are these mortal enemies hanging out in a truck? how did they get here, where are they going? For veterans, it’s familiar: oh, we’re in the flashback sequence.

For both, it provides mechanical familiarity. We just finished last game hanging out in Midgar, a bunch of town squares with shops and cutscenes connected to hazardous corridors. Well, Nibelheim’s a town with shops and cutscenes, connected to a monster-filled anthill and capped with a reactor. We know this. We’ve done this. We can do this again.

And when the flashback ends, we’re in Kalm. Another town, maybe with sidequests this time; Midgar looming in the distant skybox as a reminder of how far we’ve come.

And then you leave Kalm, and the camera zooms out, and out, and out...

Remake is essentially 7, and you can’t have the impact of 7′s world map reveal if Remake isn’t functionally open-world too. Square has plenty of experience with open environments, however successful their more recent attempts have been; I’m confident that the have the ability, at least, to craft an expansive world that feels appropriate to FF7.

((I’d like to take a moment here to talk about FF14, which mixes both compact twisty dungeons and wide-open overworld zones, and is necessarily wildly successful to still be operating as an MMO... but though I have played it briefly, I don’t claim knowledge sufficient to go in-depth. The point is, Square not only can make a game like that, they have, and are, and apparently possess non-zero competency. I have worries, but I’m not worried, if that makes sense.))

So, can you recreate a given kind of emotional impact? Yeah!

Can scenes from the original Final Fantasy 7 be rendered into a new context, more-or-less as they were? Absolutely!

Would a one-to-one recreation of the original game have the same emotional impact as when it released, twenty-three years ago?

- - - - -

Aerith dies.

If you opened this post and didn’t know that, well. There were spoiler warnings up at the top, the game’s more than two decades old, and the spoiler itself is basically a piece of pop-culture, up there with space dad and wizard killer. There’re probably plenty of people who know next-to-nothing about Final Fantasy 7 except that Aerith dies.

Everyone knows because, at the time, it was so big a thing. This was a title that Square hyped to heaven and back to push JRPGs into mainstream western markets, and it worked. And this was before major death was so common and arbitrary as it is today; even now, Game of Thrones and its ilk are a relative rarity. The death of a protagonist or love interest wasn’t a new thing for games, or any media really, but usually you knew it was coming, or it served some purpose. Aerith’s death was sudden, arbitrary, you’re almost immediately thrown into a boss fight so you don’t even have time to process it right away, and it’s the first stone in an avalanche of other pointless arbitrary tragedy. It’s an obvious narrative setup for the endgame confrontation with Sephiroth; instead, Cloud has a breakdown, Meteor happens, and now there’s an entire Disk 2.

Fandom has always been fandom, even before the continuous immediacy of the modern internet, but... people wrote letters to Square, and got sad on message boards. There’s an entire subset of forum signatures, back when those were a thing, that you could sort as “people fucked up over Aerith dying.” And again, this was the world. Not just Japan, or Asia, but everyone.

((Or, everyone with the finances to have a PS2 and/or an internet connection. Gaming as a pastime remains way expensive, whether played or watched. But you know how it is.))

And that’s the problem with answering that question.

See, FF7 is a lot of things, but for better or worse, it is defined by Aerith’s death. It’s one of many factors, but you can’t... leave it out, right? or it wouldn’t be FF7 anymore.

Aerith dies in FF7, and everyone knows it.

- - - - -

But Remake has promised, repeatedly, that things will be different this time. Everyone is coming together to defy fate, and Cloud in particular is here to keep Aerith from dying. Bodyguard jokes aside, Cloud repeatedly has flashbacks (flashforwards?) to Aerith’s death and the events leading to it. When he meets her in the church, when they cross into Sector 6, twice in the final battle. Hell, the very first time they meet, Sephiroth taunts him about not being able to save her. Even from a metatextual standpoint, since everyone knows Aerith dies, that’s like, The Most Obvious Fate To Change.

If, after all that, Aerith still dies? It’s not just tragedy, at that point. That’s the developers, actively lying to the player about their intent in making this game series. That’s frustrating, and immersion-breaking, and when said death is likely to still have one or more entire sequels to come after? maybe not great for sales! I know I didn’t bother buying the complete edition of FF15; I couldn’t bring myself to care enough about a game that set up this cool possibility, and then just, failed to deliver on every count.

And, Remake is being made for two audiences. I’ve said “everybody knows Aerith dies,” but that’s not really true, is it? It’s been 23 years, after all. Remake could well be someone’s very first Final Fantasy experience. That’s why they’ve been telegraphing Aerith’s death so hard. Not everyone knows, but at least everyone can guess. Is it fair, then, to this new audience, with potentially no knowledge or understanding of the legacy of this flashy new action game, to foreshadow tragedy in the future, have everyone come together to say, We’re Going To Stop This, and then... not? Is that good writing? Is that satisfying? When this is a multi-game and potentially multi-console investment of time and money, is this, as a newcomer, a story you’d want to keep playing?

And then on top of that, it’s 2020.

I don’t mean that in the current-year-fallacy, “we’re better than this now” kind of way. Rather, the way I felt about Final Fantasy 15 is even more relevant now. People, in real life, are realizing that the powers-that-be are failing them, have failed them, have been failing them for far longer than twenty-three years. The people that already knew that are actually showing up for each other, to spite what felt and feels like inescapable fate and finding that, together, they might just be able to ruin God’s day.

Game development is, of course, its own whole beast, and projects in motion tend to stay in motion; deviating from a plan takes time and money that Square may be unwilling to spend. But, under current world circumstances: is making a game where the hero sets out to save one specific person from their fated death, and following that with a game where that one specific person dies anyway, aside from everything else, a good business decision?

- - - - -

So... Aerith, shouldn’t die, right...? But, FF7 requires Meteor, and so requires the Temple of the Ancients and the Black Materia. And, Meteor can only be stopped by Holy, so FF7 requires the Forgotten City.

FF7 is a tragedy. FF7 demands blood.

...Hey, actually, hold that thought. How come Cloud can remember Aerith dying in the first place? He’s not from the future, right? He’s got a connection to Sephiroth, who is from the future... and Sephiroth can manipulate his memories...? but, why would Sephiroth let him, or make him, remember that?

Hey, how come Zack is alive, but like, in the “narrative scope” sense? Wouldn’t his presence circumvent Cloud’s delusions about the Nibelheim incident?

Hey, how come Cloud had multiple big climactic Sephiroth confrontations at what’s essentially the end of the prologue, including one that mirrors the very end of the original FF7? Shouldn’t that still come at, like, you know. the end?

Hey, how come--

- - - - -

Remake has these... Callbacks? Refrains? Like my favorite, when Sephiroth throws a train-- you know, The Fate Metaphor-- at Cloud, who absolutely shreds the thing. Or, for a more direct example:

And it frequently uses these to show that people are changing, that things can change. You know, the whole Running Theme the game has going on.

Sephiroth gets a refrain, too.

At the start of the game (give or take a reactor), in his first real appearance, Sephiroth philosophizes at Cloud, makes sure Cloud hates him, and tells Cloud what he wants.

At the end of the game, in his last appearance, Sephiroth philosophizes at Cloud, tells Cloud what he wants, and makes sure Cloud hates him.

Structurally, these encounters more-or-less bookend the game; thematically, it doesn’t exactly indicate change. Barret may or may not have come around on Cloud, and his admission that Cloud is important to him after all is, itself, important. Cloud, on the other hand, was always going to defy Sephiroth. He stands resolute, now, ready to fight rather than flee, but apathy was never on the table.

Now, Sephiroth’s whole Thing is psychologically manipulating Cloud to get what he wants, and as part of that, what Sephiroth wants is usually not what he says he wants.

All throughout the original FF7, Sephiroth riled up Cloud so that Cloud would pursue and defy him, culminating first in the Black Materia incident, and then again in the Forgotten City. None of the Sephiroth clones could survive the trip through the Northern Crater, so Sephiroth had to lure Cloud, with the Black Materia, to him, and then also convince Cloud to give up the Black Materia of his own accord. Mind control, memory manipulation and illusions were involved, but if Sephiroth could maintain those indefinitely, he probably just. Would have done that instead. Way easier,

The point is, in Remake, in addition to all the intermittent retraumitization sprinkled throughout the game, Sephiroth goes out of his way twice to directly ask Cloud, “hey, you hate me, right?” And, as part of that question, he tells Cloud, “this is what I want.” And Cloud? He hates Sephiroth, and will do his damnedest to keep Sephiroth from getting what he wants.

So. What does Sephiroth... say he wants?

- - - - -

One last aside before we cap off: This post would not exist without the valiant efforts of one Maximilian_dood. His devotion to the series kept myself and many others engaged and excited and, frankly, hopeful, in the leadup to the release of Remake, and his correlations between the rest of the FF7 series and Remake were enlightening and entertaining.

and had he not the gall to identify defying fate as a device to make aerith’s death more tragic, I would never have been angry enough to write this.

((I know, I know. Gaming and streaming and lit analysis are all hard individually, and I don’t begrudge losing one for the other two. And it was a first playthrough! I might have seen these lines sooner than some, but collating all this info was certainly not instantaneous. And Square can be hack writers at times-- see again my rant on FF15-- so even then, I can’t discount the possibility.

((but, still.

((Really?))

So, while I would like to believe that I have, by now, made my thesis on Remake’s narrative direction abundantly clear, here it is spelled out anyway:

- - - - -

At the bottom of the Forgotten City, at the shrine on the pillar in the lake, Cloud will find Aerith, who believes her fate immutable.

Sephiroth will descend, and Cloud will sacrifice himself, that Aerith should live.

This is Sephiroth’s plan.

- - - - -

Hey, thanks for reading this far! With my conversational tone and rambling tendencies, I’d have preferred to make this an audio post or, god forbid, a video essay, but I got a keyboard, and that’ll have to do. Diction is important to me, as the capitalization, italics and use of punctuation may have clued you in on, so... maybe you’ll get a dramatic reading sometime in the future? but, don’t bet on it.

Feel free to riddle me with questions, or point out inconsistencies with this big ol’ thing! I’m not exactly an expert, and I’m sure I glossed over, heavily paraphrased, completely forgot, intentionally ignored and/or aggressively misrepresented some stuff, but I love learning and teaching esoteric bullshit about The Vijigams. On that note, anything that sounds like it should be sourced is sourced from “I heard about it on social media or in a stream or youtube video one time, but if I actually had to hunt it down this whole thing would never see the light of day, and it has already been like three months,” which isn’t to excuse my lack of due diligence, but I do, lack diligence, so, tough.

Oh! but the Remake screens all come from [here]. Don’t care much for that splash screen, but, I Get It, so, whatever.

There were some other things I wanted to touch on but couldn’t really find a spot for. FF7 Remake as a metaphor for its own development, for example. Or, some of The Possibilities, like how Cloud’s death could very literally haunt Aerith, or how Remake sets up a more fleshed-out Midgar revisit that Cloud’s death specifically would make infinitely sadder.

On that note, if it was not yet obvious, I love speculation, and if they do go this direction, it’ll probably be their justification to go completely... off the rails? Remake only has to be FF7 until it doesn’t, after all. If there’s some wilder implications youall see for like... I dunno, a Jenova more fully-regenerated from also having Cloud’s cells back, getting into proper Kaiju-on-Kaiju battles with the Weapons, or anything like that? Feed me your brain juice, etc.

And, once more, for the road: this is interpretation; subjective, opinionated, and very much in denial of any kind of author-ity. Nor is this a claim on how things should be, or an assertion that this would be good or bad. Everything ultimately rests on Square's narrative design team and, we’ve touched on them already.

((but, for your consideration: I’m smart, and right))

Here’s hoping, whatever happens, we get the game we deserve.

thanks for coming to my ted talk, have a great day

[gh0stbird]

Okay Now Do The Rest

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Bright but argumentative. I was never afraid of pointing out things I didn’t feel were fair hfhddh

When we were learning numbers kids would often write 91 for nineteen, just flip them, y’know, and Ms. Potter yelled at the class for it. Baby Generiq went into it about how it was an understandable mix up because you do say the number first. In twenty-three you write the two first, so in nineteen it’s easy to assume you would write the nine first.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tired.

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows. Every book adaptation should also be a series not a movie. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Honeysuckle and sunshine

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Floor hockey! My friend and I used to be brutal and swing at each other’s shins going after the ball. Also it was reminiscent of golf, which I competed in.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I have an untitled playlist I cycle my current music in and out of, but Newton’s Third Law is my favorite named one!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

I don’t- I guess the yellow smarties. Don’t come for me they taste like lemonade.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I assume this means assigned book and not the reports we got to pick for ourselves. Ah, Night was good. Lord of the Flies was fine but way overhyped. Again, don’t come for me.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

If I can tuck my legs into the chair I am sitting in that is ideal!

18. ideal weather?

When you know it is going to rain and you get to stay home

19. sleeping position? (Skipped on accident)

I reeeally like pressure, so either against something or on my stomach.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone notes and a notebook! Sometimes a blank document but I always find it strangely intimidating

21. obsession from childhood?

Warrior Cats, Percy Jackson, and Maximum Ride were my big three!

22. role model?

Aa I try to straw from people I want to copy, but there are talents I look up to. Rachel Chavkin is a brilliant director, and there are so many artists and authors I look up to and who inspire me.

24. favorite crystal?

Obsidian because it’s black like my hea- I’m kidding, I do love obsidian, but it’s Rose Quartz because it’s a very very pretty, soft pink and makes me happy.

25. first song you remember hearing?

The mobile above my crib played Imagine by John Lennon. My childhood room was themed after it as well!

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swim or sit in the sunshine. Ben and I usually go driving with the top down as well.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Walking through fresh snow is amazing, so are snowball fights and building snowmen.

28. five songs to describe you?

Oh fuck yes

Hurricane - Hamilton

The Reckless and the Brave - All Time Low

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog

All This and Heaven Too - Florence + the Machine

Facade - Jekyll and Hyde: A Gothic Musical Thriller

30. places that you find sacred?

I don’t typically find places sacred, but certain headspaces are very special to me, and time spent with loved ones means more than enough to be considered sacred.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A black blazer with a white button-down and a skirt.

32. top five favorite vines?

I am in Missouri (misery)

I love you, Bitch

I want a Church girl

Obama’s “I know because I won both of them”

I won’t hesitate, Bitch!

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“No worries”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

That fucking PFI bandana boot sale I stg

35. average time you fall asleep?

Somewhere between 9:00 and three in the morning

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Some girl doing bunny ears on her friend. I don’t remember what the caption was

38. lemonade or tea?

Both. Mixed together. It’s called an Arnold Palmer and it is my favorite drink

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

We duck taped out principal to the wall once. Also some kid broke their tray over another kid’s head at lunch one time.

41. last person you texted?

The family group chat, though Beau if Discord counts

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I wear a lot of leggings so jacket pockets!

44. favorite scent for soap?

We had some Lily of the Valley hand soap that was amazing

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, I think! I’ve never done super heavy into the other two. Though I definitely don’t want to ignore sci-fi because two of my favorite stories are a little science-fiction-y

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

A t-shirt and shorts

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

A banana. Generally accepted as a fruit and kind of just rolls with it, but is actually a berry

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

I fucking hate Hamilton-ing on main, but

“And when my prayers to god were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance!”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

That changes every time Beau and I play HetaOni together, but I have fucking lost it for at least five minutes the last two sessions.

51. current stresses?

I dunno, man, life? My hair could use a wash

52. favorite font?

Covered by your Grace and I’m a big Spectral baby. These are both google docs! I don’t know if that makes a difference.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Patience is important when teaching material, but never be afraid to find another approach better suited to the person you’re tutoring.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Robin Hood!

56. favorite tradition?

My family does homemade Springfield cashew chicken for Christmas!

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhh lots of self-acceptance shit no one really wants to read

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I can pop the joint at the center of my foot

That’s all

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I sort of like my role as mom friend, so maybe I could keep that role in a sort of action-based anime that followed a group of friends

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“I am not the protégé to waste your time on; I'm complete!” Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

62. seven characters you relate to?

Haha

Lisa Carew - Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

Japan - Hetalia/Oni

Garnett - Steven Universe

Hfhddh that’s all I can say that aren’t my own characters

63. five songs that would play in your club?

I Don’t Like Clubs, but

Overwhelmed - Royal + The Serpent

Backseat Serenade - All Time Low

Go Big or Go Home - American Authors

The Nights - Avicii

Tempo - Lizzo

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz!

65. any permanent scars?

Yep - One from a bad bike wreck. My body rejected the dissolvable stitches so it’s a lot bigger than it was supposed to be

66. favorite flower(s)?

Lily of the Valley, daisies, Day Lilies, and Dandelions! I also love honeysuckles but I don’t know if those count.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Accidentally drank rancid milk once!

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? (Haha, nice)

The fastest, free way to fill up your potions on Wizard101 is to play Potion Motion to level three.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

On myself, animal print

72. worst subject?

I’ve never been intuitively good at History, I do think it’s interesting though.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I don’t like to take it until I can’t move without it.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

Kindergarten? I had mono and then scarlet fever twice, so my baby teeth were pretty much ruined and they all fell out very fast.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Curly fries!

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Kalanchoe’s, it literally Window’s Thrill. These babies are fairly temperamental outside and love partial sun, so the window is the perfect spot for them. And! If you keep them happy! They’ll bloom! My personal favorite is the pink bloom.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

What’s wrong with coffee from a gas station? Also I don’t like seafood.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Lightning bugs

82. pc or console?

PC!

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts - talk radios actually tend to get under my skin for n o reason

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, but let it be known I was brutal with mine. We did human sacrifices and the like.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology!

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies, but I’m a slut for whipped frosting

87. your greatest fear?

Losing control!

88. your greatest wish?

A life beyond where I am now. Haha Stop chasing new down the hallway you’re so sexy haha

90. luckiest mistake?

Logged into Omegle in like 2015 and some rando asked me to join their Doctor Who roleplay. Luckiest moment of my gd life.

91. boxes or bags?

Bags! They’re easier to store

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight! But in the late afternoon when everything is bathed in orange.

93. nicknames?

Mom is the most prevalent!

94. favorite season?

Fall into winter. Peak leaf crunch!

95. favorite app on your phone?

Discord or Notes

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Deca-Dence 4 | Maou-jou 2 | Fruits Basket 2 24 (49) | Magatsu 1 | IWGP 2 | Koi to Producer 11 - 12 (FINAL) | HypMic 3

Still chugging away at these summer and spring anime...sorry for the delay...(LOL, that rhymed without me meaning to.)

Also, I’ve been on the fence about whether to keep Golden Kamuy, since almost no one I read the reviews of follows it now and it’s a week’s wait (when accounting for my AniList challenge)...so I’m putting it on pause so I don’t have to suffer later.

Deca-Dence 4

“…who possesses the will to fight.”

…Great. Kurenai is absolutely tethered to Kaburagi in a one-sided love. Just when I thought Natsume had an independent role model to look up to.

Maou-jou 2

Oh, this is from Shonen Sunday? Didn’t know that until now.

“Demon Shroud: A demon with 99 clans. A cloth demon that puts on airs that it won’t be used before it’s finished off, due to its wonderful fabric. It is full of beautiful ghostly power, so its skin is smooth. However, the hero (who commonly uses things he finds in his surroundings) caught one, so now the princess has zeroed in on them. The princess doesn’t need the hands or the head of these demons, so it’s a cycle of killing and taking revenge for them. Their fighting style is squeezing the life out of things.”

Apparently, the teddy is acceptable, LOL.

I like how the window stopped displaying text at one point.

I saw someone with a huge plait in the ED. The queen, maybe…?

I noticed the laughs dropped off significantly in comparison to last time, but it’s still good. I can flex my translation skills even if I can’t laugh at one part.

Fruits Basket 2 24 (49)

…jumping to the 2nd-last episode in a season is pretty unprecendented, but I’m going to watch this for the sake of Jon’s Creator Showcase…then again, I need to finish this anime anyway, so it’s just cutting and changing the order for something I already know the outcomes of.

I used to lose myself in movies so much that I would lose all sense of who I was and would have to “regain the bearings of myself”, so to speak. I would have to reconstruct who I was, even though I technically hadn’t “been broken” and I knew once I did that, it felt different. Like I’d travelled through time and past me would never be the same as present me. That’s why I kind of get what Machi means.

Oh, I didn’t listen to this OP much…probably because I’m emphasising bingeing the spring and summer series I left behind and now that I can skip the ads on most of my anime, I’m leaving behind the anime I’ll be slower on.

The manga was written when there weren’t as many cell phones around, much less smartphones.

Rin’s on bad terms with everyone…

…if I remember the year of the dragon correctly, the last one was 2012, then the one before that is 2000…around the turn of the millennium, huh? Froob is showing its age here, albeit unintentionally.

Now that I’m closer to the Musketeers’ age, I can kind of empathise with their scenes a bit more.

“If I always blame someone or something, I’ll never change.” – True. I realised I’ve been a bit too haughty lately (what with the HypMic anime going on and it being the first thing I could research extensively before the anime’s debut, my feelings are of course reaching fever pitch – combine that with continued COVID lockdown and you get me being all defensive of HypMic, for better or for worse) and so I may have acted like a jerk to someone, but since I only know them online and generally when I try to apologise to people online they don’t see the things I apologise for as things in need of apology, I know the fault lies with me to rein myself in. I guess this means changing yourself is the only way to move forward.

I wonder how Hatori did his doctor training while avoiding hugs from girls who aren’t Sohmas…?

Shigure vs. Gentaro (of HypMic, of course)…a writing competition! That would be fun.

…Crow’s note here makes sense (<- this is why I changed the order). Shigure was clearly asking a question there.

Come to think of it, HypMic and Froob have some similar characters. The stoic doctor is Hatori/Jakurai, the energetic smol one is Momiji/Ramuda, the teasing author is Shigure/Gentaro…that could make for some good fanfic material, really.

Magatsu 1

…that title is an absolute killer, man. Anyways, I’m here for the director, who also worked on Hataraku Maou-sama.

Is this a no guns thing, like IWGP is a no drugs thing?

…this OP has lyrics?! I just hear strange squeaky noises, the kind you hear on some autotuned sogs to make them seem more ominous (I can’t remember if there’s a similar sound in G-Anthem of Y City or Yokohama Walker, but one of the MTC songs has similar noises).

I kinda guessed Leo’s package was the one Schaake and her partner were looking for. I was right.

That CGI (on the truck) is…kinda conspicuous.

These backgrounds are gorgeous.

“The definition of in dubio contra reum is "in doubt, against the accused", meaning that, where there is doubt, the accused in a trial is not given the benefit of that doubt; they are assumed guilty.”

I wonder: how many protagonists start out as absolute wimps, unwilling to fight because they either know or don’t know their own power? It’s a pretty standard introduction for things with fights.

This battle track is nice. I listened to some of the Magatsu music under Masaru Yokoyama’s name on Spotify and it’s pretty cool, but since it’s background music, there’s not a lot of demand to listen to it (from me or anyone else, I don’t think).

Why is there only a single shield if they know the enemy has heavy artillery?

…what the heck is a Zeits? Update: You can see a “Zeits” (or however it’s spelt) in the credits list, suggesting Zeits is a character in this.

I knew this was my last premiere and this might have made or broken my entire watching schedule, but this is just a pretty down-to-earth premiere for a fantasy mobile game. While that cliffhanger compelled me to continue, I don’t think it’s good enough to beat its competition in the long run.

IWGP 2

I know I said Magatsu was my last premiere, but just to be sure, I’m watching this one.

This dance scene is beautifully orchestrated. The fact there’s no music means you focus entirely on the motion.

The OP seems to trade more in colour and spectacle than actual “cool factor”.

…wow, $2.90…? That’s some cheap food.

You know I hate 1st person cam with a passion, right? So…uh…

Eyyyyyyyy…this is basically McDonald’s, curry style.

I think I can almost see Ichiro of HypMic in how the G-Boys seem to mostly be reformed delinquents or actual delinquents.

…yeah, but what’s your name, random messenger guy? Update: We find out later his name is Isogai.

“It’s because I suck at working and communicating.” – Yep, that me.

Ikebukuro licence plate. I still have no idea exactly what places get licence plates in Japan.

There are actually 2 characters before “Hospital”, but no one confirms the reading of those characters…which is probably why they’re omitted.

…oh gosh, if this were a BL, Mitsuki and Masaru would be star-crossed lovers…*sigh*

Maybe it’s an unrelated 3rd party??? (In mysteries, you can never dismiss the work of a 3rd party.)

You can tell exactly which group is which based on the colours they wear. Makoto isn’t affiliated with anyone, so he’s wearing black and had yellow earlier.

I think an anime is cowardly – or trying to save budget – if they deliberately choose an angle where they can’t show the moment of impact clearly.

E! News, LOL.

Archangel, huh? So like a 2nd in command?

I think IWGP is moving in the direction of pushing the gangs against each other in the way Makoto describes in ep. 2.

As for what I think of it now, it's decent if you want something down-to-earth, but it seems to be missing some kind of "wow factor". Like it's afraid to commit to deeper characterisation, even though it has Makoto as the ostensible lead/viewpoint character.

Koi to Producer 11

“Cognitive Science Association” - I thought it was the Cognitive Psychology Association…? (Psychology is shinrigaku, science is kagaku.)

My boy (Lucien)…why must you be so evil??? Why do I keep falling for the tall but mysterious doctor??? (<- guilty as charged re: Jakurai)

…that’s some funky seatbelts.

What’s that look in Victor’s eyes…? Fondness, or something more…?

…ah, so there is “Science” in the place’s name. It was just being less loosely translated then.

Oh dang. Stuff escalated really fast, huh?

You actually set this in 2020, huh, staff? What happens ten years from now and people watch it, only to realise 2020 and 2030 aren’t so different? That’s what happened when people had the Y2K bug.

That yellow sign on the side says “exit”. It’s not of any use.

That’s not a recoloured Kiro, is it? It’s not Shaw, either (who I think we saw somewhere in the previous episodes)…so then who is it?

…geesh, they even changed Helios to Ares. I guess it makes sense: Helios is the god of the sun, but Ares is the god of war.

Koi to Producer 12 (FINAL)

I read on the wiki Lucien’s power is copying powers. No wonder I couldn’t get a solid handle on it!

So that Helios wasn’t a mistake in the credits list in the previous episode???

Can we even hear what Helios says when Protag-chan is pulled away? Based on the lack of subs, probably no, but I wanted to ask anyway. (Or maybe he said “Watashi”, since that’s the pronoun Protag-chan goes by?)

…so that really is Kiro, huh?

Military…what? When did Protag-chan’s father have a military squad???

LOL, at the very end you can see Gavin gesturing at Greenie (the pot plant, presumably a succulent). I logged on to the game 7 days straight (they have a Discord channel!) and got a Gavin R card with Greenie on it, which is how I know about it.

Anyways, that was a fun show. Not the best, but still fun.

HypMic 3

*snickers* Just look at my boi! He’s so tall, he has to bend down for kids! (I don’t mean that teasingly, I mean that endearingly, but lately I’ve been no good at expressing myself…Must be the lockdown.)

If TsudaKen was a guest last time, then Degarashi and Irihatoma could be voiced by guest seiyuus too…

What is Jakurai, hmm? (A Transformer, LOL?...I’m kidding, of course.)

All I knew about this episode going in was that it was an MTR episode. Maybe they’ll cover the stalker story from the manga…?

More literally, Hifumi’s sign says “will you monopolise me until morning?”. This reminds me of the MTR truck one of the servers I was in was talking about…it looked like a giant billboard.

“The most notable thing about Doppo is that he has no notable characteristics.”…and yet, he’s still one of the most popular characters of the series.

Suddenly, HypMic becomes a mystery…? I’ll take it!

Yup, “Doppomine” is now confirmed as “Doppo-chin”.

If all the mysteries I’ve consumed say one thing, it’s “never forget there might be someone out there with a grudge against you willing to pin a crime on you”…or alternatively, “never forget there may be an unrelated 3rd party who would be willing to pin a crime on you”.

These guys (Tom etc.) are just food critics, I swear…(LOL)

Oddly enough(?), googling “Shinjuku waffles” reveals there are several waffle places in Shinjuku…you wouldn’t expect so many waffles away from the home of waffles (probably Belgium), but there you go.

All the results on Shinjuku French toast point to this Café Aaliya (give or take an H at the end). Apparently, it’s so popular, people line up for it on weekdays.

Oh, so Tom’s a (street) photographer…what are Iris and Rex then?

The CGI on that car looks really bad, man. It may be dark to disguise it, but it still looks bad.

Jakurai’s dad car strikes again!...Was it white? I don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure it was a lighter colour than this.

I was quite worried about how much swearing they were going to throw in the MTC episode, but then…they kicked it down a week. So…start worrying about next week, folks!

I…thought he would call Jyuto for some reason. (giggles) I’ve never seen Samatoki look so happy in relation to Jakurai, but maybe that’s because he’s just chilling. (Or maybe he was meant to have a neutral but slightly happy face and they messed up the angle. I know I do that sometimes in fanart.)

There’s Jyuto, right on cue…LOL, that kick to the guts was so random it became epic!

Uwabami…what sort of snake is that, again? *checks* Giant snake. That’s no help. (That host could have a guest seiyuu too.)

Ooh, I’m fairly sure that’s an automatic car.

Jakurai went Jitsu wa kyoumi bukai desu ne?. “Fascinating” isn’t a wrong translation, but they did forget “In fact…” or “Really…” from the start and possibly the “?” at the end (depending on interpretation). Update: It might actually be Jitsu ni, but same deal.

They struttin’ down Kabuki-cho all fancy-like…Doppo sure does get a lot of punchlines, though.

This random guy at the club could also have a guest seiyuu…

…what’s with the random Tahoma?

…oh, hey. If Hifumi’s jacket acts as a security blanket of sorts against women and he gave it to Doppo for extra warmth (presumably), then…he’s trying to protect Doppo, even in his own sort of unique way.

Mimimi vs Hifumi? This is gonna get confusing…(hey, did they actually make a flourish noise when Hifumi put on his jacket? Does the distinction need to be that clear…?)

…see, never forget the presence of an unrelated 3rd party.Wait, so we have motive…what’s the relationship of Mimimi and the dude she killed? Who is that dude? Update: We find out later.

Notice Mimimi says “Hifumi-kun” – she’s still on an outside layer compared to Doppo, who just uses Hifumi’s name. Also, I noticed Mimimi called herself Hifumi’s “onna” – “woman” – explicitly, as if she belonged to him. The subs reflect that, but it seems to have less meaning in English because they outright translated it as such.

Well, they got to demonstrate Doppo’s snapping. I’m more than happy with just that. Also, Hifumi calls Doppo with a -kun here.

LOL, this song is gonna be known as “catchy”, ain’t it? Anything with an easy-to-sing-along chorus like “nananana” is. Update: Or maybe not even a chorus, it’s just lyrics.

Hmm…I noticed the “use Mr with me” line isn’t actually reflected in the subs, but the lyrics are so fast, I don’t know how they are reflected.

Did you notice the da in the lyrics in romaji?

…and s*** goes ka-blooey, as you’ve come to expect by now.

Mimimi-kun…?

Oh, so the background from Hypnosis Mics can get caught in photos? I never thought of that.

It’s almost as if they’re nodding at the Doppo fans through the 4th wall regarding his appeal.

It seems they’re not switching out this Buster Bros track, which is…okay, but I was hoping for an MTR ED. (Tofubeats was on this track IIRC and the anime website didn’t list a future ED, so that’s why I’m okay with it.)

…Okay, so Irihatoma is Mutsumi Iwanaka, who’s a rookie in the seiyuu world. *goes to consult Anime News Network*

Oh! Mimimi Hibakari! I get it! (It means “me, me, me all day” when written differently to her name.)

Uwabami was Shugo Nakamura and Degarashi was Mitsuaki Hoshino. I’ve never heard of these guys – except for Nakamura’s role as Teru in Idolm@ster Side M – so it’s interesting they contrasted TsudaKen with them…eh? Heilong? Whossat? (Probably the guy whose…parts…almost got crushed by Jakurai with a billiards cue.) This Hiroya Eto is even more underground than those guys.

A-hah! Today’s new song is “WELCOME U” (that’s how it’s spelt, don’t diss me for it!) by Kohei from SIMONSAYZ.

Update: I thought that kid at the beginning was Yotsutsuji, so it scared me for a second.

[fuse2dx]

August ‘20

Ruiner

Ruiner frames its action at an isometric tilt. There’s a lot of red; in the game’s interface, as the prominent colour of the neon lighting that adorns its stages, and in the blood that is frequently spilled. Its cyberpunk setting isn’t anything particularly new, but as a unifying aesthetic, the glitchy effects, and out-there personalities doing their best to cope in a dystopia do well to build a convincing and intriguing world. Stages are action packed and throb with electronic noise and big loud industrial bass hits, with the play being akin to an arena shooter; enemies surging at you in bite size, minute-at-a-time waves, with each of these closing out with a grading screen serving as the pat on the back to keep that dopamine rhythm pulsing. It’s a pretty hypnotic cocktail.

These stages evolve out of a singular hub city, and while it’s not particularly big, there’s just the right level of hubbub, and it has a lovely Hirusawa Susumu track acting as an excellent, melancholic mood-setter. Based on the size of its world and the the quick-fire action being split between a very small number of stages, it’s not surprising to say it’s fairly brief - I mean, how could it get so big? But what is important is that it’s plenty of fun and and has style by the bucketload. I got a good kick out of it.

Carrion

On one hand, a horror game where you play the horror is just the kind of flip on a genre that’s needed to freshen things up a bit. On the other, it’s one straight out of the spoof ‘Peter Molydeux’ playbook. What a carri-on.

... I’m sorry. After your initial escape from a lab, Carrion centres around a hub world, with individual stages then breaking off to allow for more specific themed stages. What you’re trying to do within these is to spread your big, goopy self around, where certain spots will act as save points but also count toward unlocking an alternative path back to the hub and opening up new routes in the process. What’s unique to this particular metroidvania take is that while there are new skills that open up new routes, your movement in general is uniquely freeform - point in a direction and off you go, free of any worries about platforming and the gravity that’d otherwise bind you. While it may not be the most precise movement given the size to which you grow - and boy does this become a point during some forms of combat - it does remain responsive, and quite fun to simply shamble about like a giant congealed blob of bloody, multi-toothed sinew-y mess. Everything scales up nicely on both sides of the fighting, with distraught pistol-equipped humans turning to shielded folks with flamethrowers, all the way up to drones and mechs that are just as mobile and / or deadly as yourself, even in spite of your own upgrades that allow for more ranged, varied, and sharper extremities. It’s not especially long, and is never so taxing as to demand too much expertise of you, but it is fun and importantly, quite unlike anything else out there.

Yoku’s Island Express

Pinball continues to feel like a lost art form to me, with the nuance of skilled play being more like a foreign language than another type of game you can easily pick up. Yoku, newly-appointed postmaster, is but a tiny little bug, and as such is indebted to these skills in his efforts to travel and clamber about an environment much larger than he. Flippers are casually littered about to shoot you from one area to the next, but there’s also plenty of sections you’re led to by the story that are small yet just detailed enough to play like a neatly sectioned off area of a complete table - complete with requirements for precise shots to move forward, and those inevitable moments where you have to sit back and watch as your ball falls with miserable, exacting precision between the flippers. Failure typically sets you back a few pickups, but given these are just as quickly re-earned, you’re never punished too hard - there’s certainly no three strikes and out mentality here. It’s a very friendly interpretation of pinball’s mechanics, and there’s a decent enough story layered on top, with its characters and art demonstrating enough pleasant charm that you can definitely see this being a great way to introduce pinball to a younger audience. That’s not to say it’s not enjoyable from an older player’s point of view - just that you know what’s being presented is a wisely palatable version of a classic hobby, rather than the arse-kicking ordeal you may be used to. 

Rime

I am certain that Rime would love me to compare it to a certain Fumito Ueda PS2 game. There’s the ultra-minimal scene that’s set as a boy washes up on an island; a sparse, beautiful, somewhat Mediterranean set of landscapes, and with very few ways to interact with it all that don’t involve clambering over things or shouting out in wordless desperation. But as you’ll have noted, I haven’t found it in myself to justify using that game’s name here. 

As much as I wanted to give this a chance, it often felt directionless, uninspired, and at worst, slow and tedious. The puzzles are derivative of any number of games I’ve played before, and the biggest danger is that you might assume as to their difficulty and over-engineer your approach, rather than not be able to tackle them. The platforming is simplistic and regularly drawn out with ledges, ledges, and more ledges to climb across and dangle from; even if you were to find a way to fall to your doom, as is tempting, it is unlikely to take you back much further than a few seconds. Crucially, there’s really very little to sink your teeth into on any front, and even when the game does finally start to weave some plot threads into the game’s canvas, it’s well into the latter half - long after I’d already racked my brains for any hint of an allegory that’d fit, and given up on expecting one. Sadly, to the point that the actual story felt like a cheap afterthought when it did finally start to unravel. This bounced off me much harder than I’d expected - I came away wishing it had forged a bit more of an identity and a purpose rather than just an aesthetic strung together with some weak elements of play. 

If Found

As far as interactive elements in visual novel-type games go, If Found has a different approach to most. The story’s primarily told by means of a diary - one that’s full of witty observations, personal reflections and enigmatic sketches - that you actively erase as a means to push events along. The diary belongs to Kasio, a trans girl returning to their small Irish hometown after a stint away at university in the city; a return that’s not met in the warmest or most understanding fashion. As a mechanic, the erasure of this diary is loaded with meaning; peeling back layers of a scene often matches a more poignant set of observations, and the scrubbing of such personal details away offers a painful reflection on an identity being chipped away at. It’s very much a story about finding one’s self, about coming of age, and as it rides these highs and lows it does an excellent job in making you ride along these alongside the characters, and it does one hell of a job to make you think about the compassion that you both see and offer in the world outside. I’ll put my hands up and say that there are some elements of the story running in parallel to this main one that didn’t gel with me quite so well, but this is a minor footnote to an otherwise highly enjoyable play through. In a short space of time, Annapurna have done a great job in winning me over with their publishing choices - particularly in holding up the kinds of voices and ideas that fit these smaller titles so perfectly. 

Double Kick Heroes

It’s a rhythm game. I like rhythm games! It’s about a zombie apocalypse. Oh no. It’s... a heavy metal rhythm game? Ok, maybe we can work with this.

After a trailer name dropping a bunch of familiar artists - Jinjer, Carpenter Brut, Gojira - what surprised me straight off was that none of these licensed artists featured in the game’s story mode. They’re all sectioned off in a separate menu, and while on the bright side they’ve each given a unique stage with a visual theming in keeping with the bands in question, it feels like a bit of a missed opportunity. Instead, all tracks throughout the story were composed by just one person, and with only a small handful of featured musicians being included to diversify things. It starts with more (arguably) palatable hard rock numbers, but goes up to and includes grindcore, death metal, black metal and the like, meaning that not only is it going to put a lot of folks off right away, but that it’s asking a heck of a lot for one composer to cover all of these sub-genres with the appropriate care. While it was refreshing to hear some types of music I’d normally not expect to hear in a game, some tracks inevitably grated, and while I enjoyed some others, I wasn’t ever bowled over too strongly either.

The story itself is fairly by the numbers. It sees an on-tour band fighting back against a zombie uprising, and has unsubtle references to any number of heavy artists, albums and songs shoe-horned in at every opportunity. It also bears the hallmarks of its dialogue being written by someone that has a very particular sense of humour which personally all fell very flat. While the team undoubtably do love music, the over-enthusiastic style rubbed me in a similarly uncomfortable fashion as Jack Black does regularly, with his half-comedian, half-musician schtick. The gameplay itself is based around the drum parts of its songs also corresponding to different weaponry on your car that holds the hordes back, and while this on its own can prove tricky, higher difficulties also mounts other expectations - like steering your vehicle, or alternating pedals to shoot different parts of the screen. Some of my frustration with all of this is likely my own fault for having chosen to play on the ‘Hard’ difficulty, but traditional wisdom feels a little bit lost when you can still get damaged when your combo meter is racked up well into triple digits.

In all, Double Kick Heroes presented some pretty unique gaming scenarios; like having to work out the best controller configuration to play blast beats with, or asking out loud “did I just hear the words ‘we are Genital Absolution’ coming from a Nintendo console?”, and it’s clearly a small team working on something they really care about. I respect that. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I was hoping, but I hope they’re proud of what they’ve created.

Manifold Garden

A puzzle game taking significant inspiration from the works of M.C. Escher is a pretty good starting point in my eyes. It being presented in a wonderful manner certainly doesn’t harm either; from the UI all the way into the game, it’s beautifully clean and defined, opting for delicate shading rather than messy textures, and with its intricate, recursive geometric patterns, you’ll likely find cause to stop and take stock on a regular basis.

One button looks after your basic interactions with the world (pushing, picking up, and so on), with your other crucial way of interacting with the world being the ability to approach a surface and then assign it as ‘the new down’ - spinning everything about an axis, planting your feet to it, and changing your perspective on everything. There’s a nice steady introduction of puzzle pieces as you ease your way in, but they all stem gracefully from these simple mechanics. That I - not the world’s greatest puzzle gamer - was able to enjoy this without every getting too stuck may hint at it perhaps not being as complex as some puzzle fiends might desire, however this amounted to me coming out the other side with great waves of satisfaction, and nought but positives to say. I would go so far as to say that it’s the most fun I’ve had playing a puzzle game in a long, long time, and to boot it’s also perhaps the game where I’ve used the screenshot button the most copiously. Wonderful stuff.

[smashy-headcanons]

Weekly reminder of the blog rules, FAQ, and character alt stuff for mobile users.

Blog Rules

No NSFW content allowed. Not everyone is comfortable with NSFW content. I’m not super comfortable with it either, aside from the occasional light joke. Please keep it off the blog.

No politics allowed. Politics stress me out. I made this blog with the hopes that people exhausted from being bombarded with politics every minute won’t have to deal with it here. If you bring politics onto my blog I will knife you. And no, that does not mean I “don’t care” about certain issues. What it means is that I want this to be separate from the blog. And as a side note, no mentions of Tr*mp on this blog are allowed. I ended up deleting a submission because of it.

Headcanons go in the submissions. Non-headcanon content goes in the asks. Unless you’re sending an image or video to me, send it as an ask if it’s not a headcanon or quote. If it is a headcanon, please PLEASE send it as a submission and not an ask. It’s so much easier to post a submission than an ask because when headcanons are sent as asks I feel obligated to respond to it in some way and it almost feels repetitive when I’m saying one of the same three phrases repeatedly. The one exception I will allow is if you’re specifically asking for feedback regarding said headcanon. If you want to submit a headcanon but are worried about being anonymous, tell me in your submission that you want to be listed as anonymous and I will say it was submitted by anonymous.

When sending a submission, write it as best you can. Do your best to make sure there are no typos, and USE PROPER CAPITALIZATION. PLEASE. This isn’t as necessary with asks since I’m not going to be able to edit your own ask, but at the very least make it readable. I understand not everyone speaks English as their first language. I also understand that many people who are learning English as a second/third/etc. language may speak broken English. This is not what I’m talking about. What I’m talking about is when a submission is sent in which none of the names are capitalized or the submission is littered with typos. Most browsers/computers have spell checkers installed. If you struggle with spelling, you can use that. I’m not asking you to write your submissions like a formal essay. I just ask that you try to keep your posts as close to posting quality as possible. The reason this is an issue for me is because I try to make sure the posts on this blog are high quality, and when I have to go through and fix every capitalization error it makes posting submissions/asks even slower than usual for me.

If you’re sending an incorrect quote, include the source. If there is no source, say there’s no source.

Keep the discourse to a minimum! Please! Discourse stresses me out. There’s way too much of it on this site. Let me have ONE (1) part of this website where discourse is no issue.

LGBTQ+ gatekeepers (ace exclusionists/homophobes/biphobes/etc.) are not allowed. Asexuals are LGBTQ+. Trans people are LGBTQ+. Bi/pan people are LGBTQ+. If you try to imply that a particular LGBTQ+ identity isn’t LGBTQ+ then you will be blocked. Simple as that.

Racism, sexism, ableism, etc. of any variety is not allowed.

If asks and submissions are closed, that means that they are closed. I know I’m not the quickest at answering asks and submissions, but please wait. You can ask to make sure there isn’t some bug or error, but please don’t just DM a headcanon at random if the asks and submissions are closed. I won’t post it until it’s posted in my inbox. If you need to write it down to remember it, do so.

If I accidentally post anything that goes against these rules (aside from the headcanons in the asks thing, that I can deal with for now), tell me and I will delete the post (or fix it, if the change is minor). I will admit that I can be on the naive side. I may post something on accident that goes against what I want to have on this blog. If it breaks the rules, tell me so I can delete it.

Only add tags that apply directly to your submission. Don’t go through and blindly click every tag. Tag headcanons with the “smashy headcanons” and “headcanon” tags. Tag incorrect quotes with the “smashy quotes” and “incorrect quote” tags. And, if you are the person who came up with the quote and it didn’t originally come from somewhere else, THEN you can use the “source: original” tag; if it did come from somewhere else, please refer to rule 5 and INCLUDE THE SOURCE SO I CAN PUT IT IN THE TAGS! If there is an image in your submission, add the “image” tag. If there’s a video, add the “video” tag. Use common sense when tagging your submissions and tag them like you would add tags to your own posts (i.e. not adding a bunch of unnecessary things that don’t apply).

FAQ

Q: Is NSFW content allowed? A: No, this blog is strictly SFW. Any NSFW submissions will not be posted, and NSFW asks will not be answered.

Q: What do you mean by “TP” Link? Who is Raichu? A: There is a separate page on this blog explaining this topic in detail. I recommend looking at it if you’re new.

Q: Is there a smashy-headcanons Discord server? Will you make one? A: There is not one and there are no plans to make one. Assume that the answer is no unless I specifically say otherwise. Also, please don’t make one yourself. If there’s going to be a discord for the blog, I want to be the one to make it.

Q: Can we request headcanons for a particular character? A: Sure, go ahead. It might take a while and I usually only do about 1-5 per ask, but I will try.

Q: I’m seeing other people’s submissions on the blog, but there’s no submission link. Is something broken? A: If that’s the case, then check between Thursday 10am CST and Friday 10am CST. If they’re not open by then, then I probably turned them off because I had a lot of stuff in my inbox. Don’t send submissions as a private message; I turned them off for a reason.

Q: Are we allowed to ask questions that aren’t headcanon-related? A: Absolutely! It can be Smash-related or it can just be something random. It doesn’t even necessarily have to be a question.

Q: Can we request headcanons for a particular pairing? A: To a limited extent, I will give you ship-related headcanons. I won’t guarantee that I’ll answer yours, since I try to keep ship-related headcanons somewhat limited. That doesn’t mean you can’t tell me about your ship or ask about it. It’s just with headcanons that I try to keep them limited.

Links, Pikachu Line, Dr. Mario, and the Pokemon Trainers

You may notice I use different tags for the different Link/Zelda/Ganondorf incarnations, and that I refer to not only Pichu and Pikachu, but Raichu as well. I’m gonna go in detail on my explanation on the different terminology I use, but there’ll be a simplified reference afterward.

Links:

Young Link (MM Link) and Toon Link (WW Link), who have their own titles in Smash, are tagged as “young link” and “toon link” respectively, since that is what they are called in Smash Bros. With some Links, I add the abbreviation for the game the incarnation is from, as is the case with Breath of the Wild Link, Ocarina of Time Link, and (sometimes) Twilight Princess Link, whom I tag with “botw link”, “oot” link", and “tp link” respectively. Prior to Smash Bros. Ultimate, I used to refer to TP Link as just “Link”, so if you see a post mentioning/tagging just Link, know that the post is referring to TP Link. From now on, whichever incarnation of Link is being referred to will be explicitly stated.

I won’t worry much about specifying Zelda or Ganondorf’s incarnation, so just assume it’s either all incarnations or the most recently used one, unless the post specifies otherwise. In the case that I have to specify which one is being discussed, I will use the same shortening of the game titles as I do with Link (e.g. TP Zelda or OoT Ganondorf), but since there is now Zelda from A Link Between Worlds, I will refer to her as ALBW Zelda.

Pikachu Line:

My headcanon is that the Pikachu from SSB64 and SSBM is different than the Pikachu from SSBB, SSB4, and SSBU. Furthermore, I headcanon that SSB64/SSBM Pikachu evolved into Raichu and is no longer participating in Smash Bros, and SSBB+ Pikachu is the Pichu from Super Smash Bros. Melee. The Pichu in SSBU is a different Pichu that’s new to Smash. There is also a female Pikachu that was introduced in SSBU, and I will be referring to her as Pikette (suggested by mushroomfusion245). Additionally, apparently Pikachu Libre is going to be in SSBU; she will be called Pikachu Libre and tagged as “pikachu l”. Additionally, the Spiky-eared Pichu is in Smash as Pichu’s alternate costume, so I will tag her as “spiky eared pichu”.

Mario and Dr. Mario

This is a relatively recent change, but Mario and Dr. Mario are considered two separate people on the blog, with the latter being the father of the former (and Luigi). They will be tagged separately as well.

Pokemon Trainer Stuff

Since SSBU was announced to have both Red and Leaf and their Pokemon, I realized I’d have to tag them individually, as well as their Pokemon. That way, we can come up with headcanons for all of them.

I’ll use the tags “red”, “ivysaur”, “charizard”, and “squirtle” for Red and his Pokemon. For Leaf and her Pokemon, I’ll use “leaf”, “l ivysaur”, “l charizard”, and “l squirtle” to distinguish. The only difference between the tags and the names I’ll use is for Leaf’s Pokemon, which I will specify is Leaf’s Pokemon. For example, while I would call Red’s Charizard just Charizard, I would call Leaf’s Charizard “Leaf’s Charizard”.

Long story short, SSBU made stuff a lot more complicated.

Now that we’ve gotten the reasoning out of the way, here’s a reference for all this:

Link in SSB64 and SSBM (the adult Link, anyways): OoT Link

Young Link: Young Link

Toon Link: Toon Link

Link in SSBB and SSB4: TP Link (but just Link in posts prior to E3 2018)

Link in SBBU: BotW Link

Zelda in SSBU: ALBW Zelda

Pichu in SSBM/Pikachu in SSBB onwards: Pikachu

Pichu in SSBU: Pichu

Pikachu in SSB64 and SSBM: Raichu (since I headcanon that it evolved after SSBM)

Female Pikachu in SSBU: Pikette (will be tagged as “f pikachu”)

Spiky-eared Pichu in SSBU: Spiky-eared Pichu (tagged as “spiky eared pichu”)

Pikachu Libre (first appeared in Pokemon ORAS, look it up): Pikachu Libre (will be tagged as “pikachu l”)

Mario: Mario

Dr. Mario: Dr. Mario (will be treated as Mario and Luigi’s father)

Red and his Pokemon (plus their genders for clarity): Red (male), Ivysaur (male), Charizard (female), Squirtle (male)

Leaf and her Pokemon: Leaf (female), Leaf’s Ivysaur (l ivysaur) (male), Leaf’s Charizard (l charizard) (male), Leaf’s Squirtle (l squirtle) (female)

[psychadelickate]

NCIS - Gibbs: Celebrate

Title: Celebrate Word Count: 1560 Fandom: NCIS Pairing: Gibbs x Reader Rating: Teen  Requested: @anycsirp Prompt: Hey can I maybe ask for a Gibbsxreader where the reader tries to hide her pregnancy after a drunk one nightstand with Gibbs but he finds the positive test by accident? Sorry for bothering 🙊I just love your stories SM 

You feel Gibbs’ eyes tracking you as you make your way down the steps leading from MTAC to the bullpen. He doesn’t say anything to you, though he doesn’t avert his gaze until you’ve seated yourself behind your desk and start on the paperwork for the case the team has just closed. You notice as McGee looks from you to Gibbs and back at you again, but he doesn’t say anything, just goes on with his own case report.  A few minutes later Bishop walks in with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and normally that would be heaven for you, but the throbbing headache and exhaustion are already too much for you to deal with. The team has had back to back cases and with it being the middle of summer, you’re almost sure you’ve caught some form of a bug that’s probably in the air. You want to throw up at the smell of the coffee, but you don’t want to bring attention to yourself so you close your eyes and breath slowly, waiting for it to pass.  It seems some deity is listening to you unvoiced prayers and not a minute too soon, Bishop gets called to MTAC. She leaves the bullpen a few minutes later, thankfully taking her coffee with her.  “You okay “(Y/N), cause you look like death warmed over,” you hear DiNozzo ask you and you glare at him in return.  You make a mental note to go and see your doctor this afternoon. You will not miss out on fieldwork for a bug.  Home time can’t come soon enough and your first stop is an emergency visit to your doctor. Just like you thought, she does the normal exam and then takes what seems like a thousand vials of blood for testing and promises she’ll call you as soon as the results come in. Just as promised, she calls you in, two days later and you ask her to just tell you the results over the phone. Whatever it is, you’ll deal with it, but she tells you its not something that can be done over the phone and so after work you head over to her rooms. 

It’s two weeks later and another solved case, this one taking more of a toll on the team than usual. It’s DiNozzo who suggests a campout watching old movies in Gibbs’ living room to destress after that harrowing fortnight.  You decline but none of the team are taking no for an answer and you don’t see any way out of it. Bishop offers to drive you knowing that you won’t go to Gibbs’ house if you have your own car. You try and stall entering his home as long as possible, but Bishop is having none of it. She wants the best seat in the house and she’s not going to get it waiting outside for the boys to arrive.  So you follow her into the house, taking in everything you didn’t the first time you were here. Though in your defence, looking around one Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ house at that point was not high on your priority list.  “Bishop, (Y/N),” Gibbs greets the pair of you as he walks toward the sofa, bowl of some type of snack in his hand, his gaze focused on you.  The boys arrive a few minutes later and you’ve never been more grateful in your life. DiNozzo has come armed with recent movies, and you’re grateful about that too, because there would be nothing worse that sitting through a movie you don’t like. He sets everything up and takes a seat on the floor next to McGee, bowl of popcorn that Gibbs had provided, almost empty.  Unfortunately the movie doesn’t do anything to distract you or even interest you and you decide you’ve had enough. Also, it happens to be a trilogy and you’re sure as hell not subjecting yourself to that. You head to the bathroom to freshen up before you leave. As you exit the small bathroom, you come chest to chest or rather face to neck with Gibbs. You hate that you’re distracted enough not to hear him following you. “You dropped somethin’,” he says as holds the folded piece of paper in his hand.  You check your pockets to see if it is yours and find that it’s the result of the test your doctor had run two weeks ago. Your heart starts racing in your chest. This was not how he was meant to find out.  Actually, He wasn’t supposed to find out at all,” Your brain whispers.  You want to snatch it back from his hand, but you’re sure your action would prompt another reaction from him and you’re not quite ready for that.  He steps in closer to you and your eyes automatically close. He smells like sawdust and mint and sandalwood and something that is uniquely Gibbs. You need to place a little distance between yourselves for you to think clearly. You know he can see the plan forming in your eyes and so he puts an immediate stop to it by stepping closer into you.  “Gibbs,” you whisper, “We need to talk,” you tell him and he nods his head before leading you to his bedroom.  “Team’ll be able to hear us in the basement,” he tells you and you nod.  You look around and everything comes back to you with blinding clarity… 

It was almost eleven weeks ago… The team had gone out for celebratory drinks after helping Fornell and his FBI team with a particularly difficult case that had taken a toll on each one of you, all in different ways. DiNozzo had kept the drinks coming and no one protested or complained. Not even Gibbs, who had decided to join in.  Soon enough the team had started to leave, McGee saying Delilah was waiting on a skype call with the time difference and DiNozzo had a late night date with a girl you couldn’t remember. Jimmy had left a while ago, wanting to spend as much time with his daughter as he could. Bishop had been the last to leave, only waiting long enough for her boyfriend to pick her up leaving just you and Gibbs.  You weren’t drunk out of your mind and you guessed neither was Gibbs, but who could say that with certainty. And the next thing you knew was you and Gibbs were making out in the car on the way to his home. You could’ve stopped it, You should’ve stopped it, but both of you knew you wouldn’t. What did surprise you was that it seemed he wanted this just as much as you did.  He didn’t wait until his front door was fully shut before pushing you against it and kissing you thoroughly, leaving no part of your mouth unexplored.  And then he’d led you to a room with a bed, because there was no way he was going to sleep with you in his living room floor those were his words….  All you’d seen were shades of blue and gray as he flung the duvet cover from the bed and laid you down on it.  You didn’t remember much of that night, but what you did remember was that he was kind and gentle and intense. But you knew it wouldn’t last, he wasn’t interested in a long term relationship and so when you’d woken up alone in bed, you didn’t think twice about leaving without telling him. Neither of you had spoken about that nights events since.  “Is it mine?” he asks you and you nod your head. You’d thought about lying to him, but your heart wouldn’t allow you to.  “How long have you known?” he asks.  “About two weeks,” you admit.  “Which means you should be almost past your first trimester,” he says and again you nod.  “And you’re keeping it,” he asks and your gaze snaps up to meet his.  Of course you’re keeping it. You don’t have to verbally answer him, he can see it on your face.  “And when were you planning on telling me?” he asks. You note he’s not upset or angry, just curious.  “I didn’t know how,” you admit, “you’re always quoting Rule 12 and the likes and I wasn’t sure…”  but you’re cut off mid-sentence when you feel his mouth on yours. “I love you,” he says and you’re a little shocked at his confession.  “Gibbs, you don’t have to say that just because I’m –“ he cuts you off again, mid-sentence.  “(Y/N),” he calls you and you find you cannot look anywhere but at him when he says your name in that tone. “I was in love with you before I knew you were pregnant, before we even shared a bed. I was going to tell you that morning, but when I came back with breakfast, you were already gone. And you never brought it up so I assumed…” This time you’re the one that doesn’t allow him to finish talking. You press your mouth to his in a gentle kiss, hoping can feel the promise in it.  “Now lets go and finish the movie with the team and get them out of here as soon as possible. We have some celebrating to do,” you tell Gibbs and your heart soars at the sound of his contented laugh. 

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