#its a lot of info but bear with us <3

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Three (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but can you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of tasty angst, some tasty smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see series warnings, here. 

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule and series masterlist are here. 

Author’s note: Thank you so much if you're still here :) Hope you enjoy chapter 3! I'm so grateful for the interaction so far, and any feedback / comments / reblogs / asks would seriously mean the world! 

Word count: 7.1k for this part

Santiago’s eyes flit over you as you ever so deliberately lean yourself up against the counter edge, legs stretched and elongated before you. 

He just told you he’s missed you, after all these months apart - an admission you’d never expected so readily from him - but you, on the other hand, can’t bring yourself to be quite as forthcoming.

Instead, you fold your arms firmly around your middle and your expression grows taut - despite his effort to soften things. To close this distance. To drag you back in. 

Stubbornly, you offer a big fat nothing in response. Opt not to make things easy for him. 

Still, although you don’t make any move to invite him closer, you certainly do not make any move to deter him. 

And so, Santiago inches forwards, stepping into the place of your sketched memories of him -all you’ve had for months- and showing them up to be wholly inadequate. When you’d imagined him he wasn’t this. He is so much more than you had been dwelling on. More handsome. More affecting. More Santiago. 

He was hard enough to resist as an outline - as a vestige of the warmth he offered you. You don’t know if you can resist the full force of his corporeal form, and its promise of touch. You don’t even know if you want to. 

Santiago is a wound you could never close. A scab you always pick. A scar you will always carry. It’s not nice to think of him in such a way, but you don’t know another way any longer. He hurts you, but you don’t know how to stop letting him get close enough to do it. 

Your expression remains taut, however, even as Santiago’s face dances with a tentative smile, crinkles blooming around his eyes like sunbeams. A veneer of easy charm paints his features, no doubt in an attempt to sucker you in. 

He always was good at that. 

He just never quite knew what to do next when he had you. 

To answer Tom’s question, Santiago had never used a line on you, no; but, since you started hooking-up, he had never needed to. Not once. You were weak for him, and it didn’t take much at all to drag you into him. Barely anything, in fact. A bad day. A drink or two. A lingering hug and parted lips, hovering just a little too close to your neck. A hand smoothed down your back, a little lower than he’d thought to touch before. A thick, dark eyebrow raised with a question, a nod towards his bed with a solution, and then, you were his. Unravelling all over him. Tipping into him then falling - so far. Further than you’ve ever fallen. 

And God, you had tried. Tried to love him only in fragments. See him in pieces. Friend. Soldier. Lover. 

But you saw him all at once. 

He had drawn you in; because that’s what he does, isn’t it? It’s what he’s good at. He drags people in. To him. To danger. Because he can. Because he wants to. Because he needs to. Because he can’t bear to hurt alone. Because anything is a weapon in his lethal hands. His touch alone had even become a weapon, in the end. His fingers on you, inside you. Santiago knew exactly how to take you apart; but he didn’t know when to stop dismantling you. 

His hands had never learned to build things. 

It’s not his fault. Not really. 

Still, you can’t help but blame him for it. 

Santiago treads closer still, and your chest tightens with feeling. 

You wish desperately that you had that same power over him. The power to pull him, to drag him, to persuade him into safety; but Santiago’s always looking for a close call as though he depends on them. As though, if he steps back from the edge, he will forget what it feels like to live without the constant threat of dying. 

Santiago stops a few strides from you, planting his feet and shuffling from foot to foot, ugly flip flops slapping obnoxiously against the tiles. 

You have so much to say to him. So many things you’ve rehearsed and scripted in your head these past months. But suddenly, all of that is too much to verbalise. Instead, there is something else burning far more strongly than regret or resentment or anger or saving face. More strongly than the million things you had sworn you had wanted to scream at him if only you could finally get him in front of you. 

The truth is, you’ve missed him too. 

You miss him. 

This distance of only a few strides is the furthest you’ve ever felt from him, and you want nothing more than to close it. 

Here, like this, you’re achingly aware that he’s not touching you. Hasn’t touched you, since he arrived here. 

There was no hug hello. There has been no conspiratorial huddle of your bodies. No leaning into him on the couch. No sign of the two of you moving as one. In tandem. Symbiotically. 

No lovers. No friends. No soldiers. And what are you without that? 

You had left the latter life behind but you didn’t mean to lose the former too. 

Santiago scratches his chin, flecked stubble rasping along his jaw, against the rough pads of his fingers, and your core turns itself over. In this moment, you can recall the textures of him as thoroughly as if you are touching him yourself. 

Touch - that’s it. 

Touch is the shared language you two have even when there are no words. 

It is the language you have always shared. Developed over time, adding deeper and more elaborate phrasings to the point that, now, there are things you simply cannot say to each other without your fingers, your hands, your bodies, your lips. Therefore, in so many ways, until you can touch him? Until you have touched him? It will continue to feel like you haven’t yet spoken. Like you haven’t spoken since he left you in that doorway and you spat cruel words at him down the stairwell. Like you haven’t spoken since his hands -his touch- were last on you. Inside you. Over you. Covering you. 

You haven’t spoken since his hands were moving over your body and telling you he loved you. Needed you. Wanted you. 

And that? That won’t do. That’s too long without speaking to your best friend. 

You undeniably need his touch now, regardless of how dangerous it may be. You need it, regardless of whether or not it is a weapon in his palms. Indeed, with the words attempting to burst out of you still too numerous and craving this far more intimate, straightforward shorthand, you simply move to hug him. 

Santiago. 

To draw him into you and gather him up into your arms. Your oldest, dearest friend. 

You drink the scent of him in, and it is the scent of home. A home you’ve been searching for everywhere since you left it behind. A home you haven’t found anything close to back here - even at the family dinner table. A belonging you haven’t found in your new place, no matter how many throw cushions you buy and rearrange or how many photographs you hang in the hallway. 

And so, the sheer force of your embrace takes Santiago by surprise, his hands still shoved in the deep pockets of his cargo shorts; but, in only moments he is reacting, wrapping his arms around you too. You’re not proud of it, but for the first time in months you feel like you can breathe. 

Your fingers travel to any bare patch of skin you can find, snaking up to the back of his neck, into his hair, relearning the textures of him. Mapping his body beneath your touch. Cataloging every contour and swell of his terrain. And, it gives you pause as you find a fresh, ridged scar sliced into the back of his neck. 

How didn’t you notice this before? 

Oh yeah – that’s right. Because you’ve barely dared to look at him. To see him. Only dared to grasp at fragments of him, rather than risk seeing him all at once. 

Santiago feels you urgently exploring the ridge with your fingers when you reach it, an unfamiliar range freshly cartographed on the map of his skin. A new dimension to the familiar paths your fingertips have traversed time and time again. 

You pull away in shock, your fingers trembling. “What’s that? What happened?” 

Santiago routinely got injured when you were in the field with him. Usually right in front of you. That hurt too, of course – seeing him in pain. In danger. But you weren’t quite prepared for the way it would scoop out a hole in your chest to know that he had been hurt without you by his side. That he had been hurting alone. 

You knew, somehow. Knew he would throw himself into it when you’d left – into the danger. That he would get reckless without you around and God, what if something had happened? What if something had happened and you’d left it like that- the way you did? Fraught and angry and never having said any kind of proper goodbye? Leaving an open wound in your wake like that? How would you ever hope to piece yourself back together then? 

Finally, your eyes swim with the tears that you’ve been holding back all weekend, for longer, and which suddenly find their exit valve so suddenly that you can’t even hope to prevent them. Instead then, you scrub them helplessly from your cheeks as you search Santiago’s eyes for answers. 

“It’s okay,” Santiago soothes, smoothing his broad palms up and down your arms, shoulders to elbows. “Hey, it’s okay. Sweetie. I’m okay. Had that pain in my neck, remember? Went to get it fixed.”

It takes a moment for your surge of worry to still as you fight through the cloud of it, your eyes flitting all over his face. Your trembling fingers grasp his forearms in your grip as his broad hands shift to support you beneath the elbow, his thumb raking back and forth over your skin to subdue your concern. You feel ridiculous, but your eyes continue to ball with rogue tears. That is, until Santiago reaches beneath your chin and grips it, giving it a gentle jostle, his eyes steady and reassuring. “I’m okay. Really. Quick surgery. No complications.” 

You nod. Blink through the tears. “Okay. Okay. Right. Did it work? Pain in your neck gone?”

His cheek tugs on a smile. “Debatable. Tom’s still sat outside, last I checked.” 

You smile too. Release a light exhale of a laugh, venting some of the pressure. 

You examine Santiago’s face, painted as it is with mild shock and confusion, as though he’s wondering how you could possibly get so worked up about this new little nick on his neck. He never did quite get it, did he? What he means to you? “You promise you’re not hurt? Really?” 

He drops your arms. “It’s not your job to worry about me any more, remember?”

The blow feels low, even for him. A crack in his layered on charm, no matter how casually he attempts to pass it off. 

“Sure. It might not be my ‘job’ but it’s still my life’s fucking work, idiot. You got surgery. Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

His brows draw down. “Well. We haven’t exactly been friendly lately. Not since…” his pink tongue curls around his lip, as though he can’t quite complete that thought. Can’t quite bear to revisit how you left things. At least, not out loud. 

He folds his arms around himself, creating a barrier, and you see the shutters go up over his eyes too. 

There it is again. This distance. 

Your shoulders slump with an exhale. “Fuck, Santiago. This is so much harder than I… The way we left it. I…”

You watch a hard swallow trail down Santiago’s corded neck. 

How did you leave it, exactly? 

Hurt. 

Yes. 

But also; searing pleasure. Pulse hammering in a hot throat. Insistent, grasping, spearing fingers. Stubble as rough and warm as sand. The urgent, soothing slide of tongue. Unfinished. 

Unfinished, and it’s so hard not to simply fall on to his lips in this moment. Warm. Soft. Familiar. 

He’s remembering too, and his sunken gaze dips to your mouth. His throat bobs around another thick swallow. And, as he so often does when his feelings become too much, Santiago yeets them away. Far away, in the worst possible way. “It’s okay,” he says coolly. “Look. I forgive you.” 

Your mouth falls open, in complete indignation. “Me? You forgive me?” 

He rocks from foot to foot. “Well… yeah.”

Santiago’s -up to now- cool, calm expression twitches with evident irritation as you scoff. Meanwhile, a sudden, hot rage tremors in your belly, making you gallop over your words so fast you almost trip. “Excuse me?! You’re the fucker who stormed out. Who left it like that.”

“Princesa,” he says, still eerily calm despite the momentary fracturing of his mask. “You left the fuckin’ country without saying goodbye.” 

Your nostrils flare. You boil. 

This anger which has festered for months, it seems, is finally finding a release valve. It is an ugly, gnarled thing, and yet, you lean into it with your whole self. You lean into it because it’s bringing you closer to him, the distance between your bodies tightening and shrinking as you zone in on one another with this twisting, animated rage. 

“Oh ho ho! Funny that the other boys managed to find the airstrip just fine, isn’t it? Frankie had a good luck banner. Benny brought me fucking sandwiches.” 

Santi rolls his eyes so hard. “Benny’s always been sweet on you.”

“And you’re not?!”

The words scrape you on the way out, like sand in your throat, and by the time you are almost chest to chest with Santiago, jabbing your pointer finger into the valley between his pecs in utter disbelief, it is too late. 

Too late to retreat as his hand almost absent-mindlessly settles over yours to relieve himself from the stab of your accusatory finger. 

Then, as coolly and calmly as his words are delivered, he still opts to level an accusation of his own. “You never should have left in the first place.” 

You snatch your hand away from his before the heat can travel up your arm and settle in your chest. And, in this moment, in response, you find that you want to hurt him. Perhaps a part of you truly is cruel. 

This time, your words are delivered coolly too. Slow, so that every syllable has time to crawl under his skin. “Santiago. I had no damn reason to stay.”

You watch as his eyes flash with a momentary knife lick of pain. He takes an almost imperceptible step back from you, whatever wolfy words in sheep’s clothing he was about to rasp dying in his throat. Instead, he exhales a huff of air through his teeth. Shakes his head. Smiles a smile somehow entirely scrubbed of joy. 

The implication of your words is clear. 

He was not reason enough for you to stay. 

“There,” he says coolly. Unfeelingly. Icily. “Are you done?” He scoops a hand around his mouth, stubble rasping beneath his palm, his eyes glassy and dulled now. 

Whatever satisfaction you had expected to derive from hurting him was a false sun. You feel empty now too, for having dulled his brightness. 

Did the anger make anything better, you ask yourself? Did it change a damn thing? 

No. 

Here you are, still entirely burdened by this weight in your chest. 

Still at such an impasse. 

Still best friends. 

Still bound. 

Still falling to pieces. 

Still hopelessly in love with him. 

And it’s still not enough. 

You watch him rock self-consciously from foot to foot once more. Attacked but not retreating. Still here. Still trying, in his own way. 

You wish you could state with some truth that you’re sorry. That you can forgive him. You don’t know if that’s real, but you still know one thing for sure. 

You missed him, and you do still want to close this distance. To heal this wound, not deepen it. Whatever it takes. 

“Fine. I’m sorry. I-”

“-Bullshit, hermosa.”

You look down at the floor, almost ashamed that you can’t bend the words quite enough on your tongue to make them feel true in your mouth. That Santiago saw right through you. 

But why would you be sorry? 

In your estimation, Santiago owes an apology far more than you do. 

Still, when you finally drag your eyes back up to his, his stare somehow feels softer. Bright enough with possibility, at least, to singe away your would-be tears. 

Maybe it’s because he sees you still here and still trying. 

You want to say something more, to do something, but you are entirely at a loss. The anger had gotten you nowhere - no closer to resolution - and you had not once in four months looked beyond it to what might happen next. To what the possibilities might be. 

You blink slow and long, bringing your palms up to shield your eyes as you gather yourself for a moment. 

Then…

“Here,” Santiago’s weakened voice sounds after a while. You hear the clink of a couple of glasses to the side of you, being grabbed up from the counter. 

“What?” you blink a few times in confusion. 

“Help me out.” Still, you look blank. “With the dishes.” 

You look around the kitchen, as if suddenly noticing where you are. As if only just having clocked the chaos created by you and the boys after an evening of hearty dinner and drinking. Corn husks and burger buns. Beer bottles and discarded dishes littering the surfaces.  

“Pope…”

“Come on. Like you wouldn’t be lying in bed staring at the ceiling all night if we left these festering ‘til morning?” 

Festering. 

Slack-jawed, you watch Santiago gather up the glasses and pad over to the dishwasher in his stupid flip flops, and you feel a sudden surge of affection for the man. 

Your eyebrows jump up in delayed surprise. At what, you’re not precisely sure. At the fact he knows you well enough to understand that a mission, however small, is what you need right now? At the fact he remembers you? That should in no way surprise you, but it does. 

Santiago ticks up an eyebrow in return, his hand brushing yours as he conveys a plate to you, ready to be slotted into the rack. “I haven’t forgotten you,” he promises, his voice silk, and an involuntary heat blooms through you. 

You are grateful that your arm moves on autopilot to stow away the plate, your body turning away from him before you can ignite. 

You are also grateful to have this small mission to focus on together. To place your two bodies back into their rightful routine. Sure, this domesticity is a far cry from what you’re used to. From any of the endless ways your bodies might have previously combined – acted as a unit. But, your heart aches as Santiago begins moving around you with ease. Effortlessly intuiting your path around the space, and slotting the path of his body around yours as you work together to get the job done. 

You suppose there are some paths you never forget if you walk them enough, and the way you move around each other so fluidly exhibits your years of togetherness – of walking in the same direction – far more clearly than you might care to admit.  

Your bodies remember each other, and, oh boy, do you want to test that assertion in all the ways you can think of. 

Still; you don’t. 

Can’t say anything for a moment, besides responding wordlessly to the brush of his skin against yours as he passes close to you. 

“Better to do it now, I guess,” Santiago twitters mindlessly as he rinses a dish and stacks it. You look at him almost completely stalled, as a characteristic smirk finds its way to his full lips. “Personally, I like doing it in the morning.” 

You wouldn’t know. He’d never stuck around until morning for you to find that out. 

“Right,” you respond stiffly. “Always putting everything off until later.” Including you. 

His face drops. 

Shit. You can’t help yourself, can you? 

You don’t know why you said that. Don’t know why you had to throw around more blame, just as things were softening. Just as things were beginning to feel more than a little like they used to. “Shit. I’m sorry. I…” This time, the words feel genuine. 

“Yeah. No. It’s fine. I get it,” he says somewhat placidly, all things considered. Reaching for another stray glass and loading it up. “You think this is all my fault.”

You grab up a used pan and tuck it into a space. The words are so strangled in your throat that they barely come out as more than a whisper. “Well. Isn’t it?” 

Santiago’s jaw writhes, tension travelling through his corded neck, his mouth a thin line. Still, he passes you the item in his hand all the same. “Agree to disagree?”

“Fine.” 

You both opt to contain it, then. Not to let it erupt. To focus intently on your task and only vaguely on each other. After all, it’s far safer that way – dulling the intensity of him.  

“Hey,” you try, forcing a brighter tone, which comes more easily than you might have expected. “Do you really play up the knee thing?” 

“Sometimes.” 

There is a beat, and you somehow can’t contain your statement. “I was never on top.” 

A frown notches in his brow. “Sure you were.” 

“No.” You swallow the lump in your throat as you watch Santiago rise from his hinged position, coming fully to standing, 

You hold your breath for a moment, wondering where he might take this, but you are relieved as an amused spark glints in his umber eyes. “Made an effort with you, I guess.” 

Fuck. You remember. His mouth on you for hours. 

Aaaand… There he goes. Dragging you back in. 

God, you want him to. Want him to soothe your anger. Win you over. You want that. 

“Ha. What made me so special?” Shit. You hadn’t meant… you didn’t mean it like that. Still, you clock the way Santiago self-consciously scratches the nape of his neck. 

His eyes glance off of yours now, like a careening, flung spark. 

You try to refocus. 

Knives and forks in the cutlery holder. 

You let the question hang. 

You let the moment breathe. 

It sounds odd, maybe, for something so mundane, but doing the dishes with Santiago - or something equally domestic - has long been a secret desire of yours. When bullets and bombs hailed around you, everything heightened and extreme and horrible, you had begun to entertain dreams of normal, boring moments with him. A morning cup of coffee. Falling asleep in his arms. Doing laundry. 

Peace instead of war. 

You snort softly at the thought. 

Now, it is the two of you who are at war. 

If only your hearts could be as in sync as your bodies always were. Apparently still are. And, dammit, once again, you want to take that theory to its logical conclusion. 

“So, look. What’s the deal?” Santiago asks self-effacingly, as he peels the wrapper away from the dishwasher tablet. “Are we ‘friends’ again, or what?”

“Santi. We never weren’t.” That’s not the issue, is it? Never was any question of whether you were friends. It’s that you didn’t know how to be more - not without tearing each other apart. 

Santiago nods slowly, processing all of this, and his expression is so contrite that you can’t hope to dull the tide of affection for the man. You turn a bowl over and over in your hands as a distraction. “I still want to know, Santi. I want to know what you’ve got going on. When you get neck surgery. I… You’re still my best friend.” You want to reach out for him. To hold him. In years gone by you would not have hesitated to touch him - but things are different now. “I mean… right? Aren’t you?” When a lump balls in your throat, you realise it’s less of a question, more of a plea. 

You can’t look at him, but in your periphery you note him moving closer. His arm extending, his broad, warm palm reaching out ever so tenderly to cup your cheek. Making you meet his gaze before he speaks. “You’re my ride or die, sweetie. Always.” 

It’s a relief to hear it. So much of a relief that at least one thing is a constant that your eyes brim with tears, misting your view of him as you finally tip your gaze back up to his. You find his expression wistful at first, but then, as his thumb continues to skim back and forth across your cheek, the moment morphs. 

That was always the problem, wasn’t it? 

You were soldiers, then friends, then lovers. If only you could figure out what to be next. How to be all of those things at once. 

So, when this heat between you is finally given a chance  - instead of sparks flinging themselves into the dark - it catches, beginning to blaze. 

Suddenly, there is a whole conversation happening between your bodies, without making any move. So fluent are you in the language of touch that you can even intuit his words before he speaks them. Suddenly, a whole tome is written in the fleeting moment that your eyes lock. A tome dedicated to every conceivable position your bodies might combine into. To how you might make use of every surface around you. 

The way he could shunt you up against the-

-spread you open on the-

-turn you around and bend you over until-

-a collapsing of this need. 

Your bodies, doing whatever they need to sync themselves back up. No longer out of rhythm. 

In many ways, it would be so easy. 

So easy to succumb. 

In that fleeting moment, all the possibilities seem to flash through you as you contemplate what move you’re going to make. Which way you will choose to give into him. 

But instead, you reach for the dishwasher door, and you push it closed. Santiago follows, standing formally beside you, hands folded in front of him as though mourning the moment you had both allowed to pass. Mourning the fact that your bodies are talking, screaming out to one another, but not one of you is prepared to listen. Not yet.  

“There’s another job,” Santiago states blankly. “I found Lorea’s cash house.” 

Your stomach drops. “Fuck, Pope.”

“The boys are in,” he snips back, almost defensively. 

Are they? The others were meant to be done with that life too – just like you. It had barely been any time at all since they had followed you out. Started to move on with their lives in whatever way they could. 

Thank God, is all you can think. Thank God you didn’t let your need collapse, because if you had, you’d be right back where you started. You’d never get out. All Santiago knows is how to walk around in circles. 

“I’m out. I told you,” you reaffirm, as if in danger of being drawn back in regardless of your firm resolve. Santiago always was so very persuasive, that at times you wondered if his desire for you was anything more than a sales pitch. Fucking propaganda. 

“I’m… Shit. I’m not asking you to be a part of it.” 

You arc an eyebrow, trying your best not to let on that hurts you; contrary thing that you are. “Oh?” 

“I’m just telling you what I’ve got going on. Like you wanted.” 

“Right.” You swallow. Why did Frankie not mention this? Asshole. “Sure.”

Now that the dishes are stowed away, Santiago casually pops a couple of beers, leaning himself up against the counter. You follow his lead. 

“So,” he breezes, nodding the head of his bottle at you. “I gave you something. Now you can tell me about the guy you’ve been dating.” You arc an eyebrow at him, definitely coming off as miffed that he’s found out about that. “Oh yeah,” he says smugly, with a knowing curl of his lips. “Your sister dropped you in it big time. Almost like she was trying to make me jealous or something.” 

You shrug. 

Well?

Did it work? Is he? Jealous? 

Part of you wants him to claim you again. At least, you want him to want to. Want him to remind you in no uncertain terms of all the ways he can’t forget your body - and everything he knows how to do to it. 

“He’s….” Possibilities of what you could respond with filter through your brain. He’s not even a thing. He’s none of your business. He’s what you deserve for letting me go. He’s revenge. He’s a bit of fun. He’s not someone I could make a go of it with. He’s not you. Never will be you. “…Hot.”

“Did you meet him at a wine mixer?” Santiago asks with a brash smile. “Does he listen to true crime podcasts and do ultra-marathons to prove he’s special? Take you on dates to Olive Garden?” 

“That’s… ridiculously specific. Also; no.” 

In truth, you know this revelation from your sister won’t even bother Santiago all that much - not on any real level. That’s because he knows it as well as you do. Knows that you’re his. At least, that you could be his, at any moment. That he could make you forget. Or remember. Whatever he wanted. 

You prickle though, and he sees it. “Come on. I’m not trying to be an ass. I swear. I just-“ he bumps your arm with the back of his hand “-want to know too. What you’ve got going on.”

“Then you should ask me about my job, the house. All of that.” 

He leans in, just a little. Conspiratorial almost, eyebrows shooting up. “I get all of that shit from Frankie.” So Frankie’s been selling you out too, huh? You’ll need to have words. “But… Look, he holds out on me when it comes to who’s giving you the dickin’ down these days.”

“As he should!” 

Santiago chuckles, and God you’ve missed that sound. 

You search his face. A gentle, genuine curiosity plastered over his features. You take a swig of beer, for some illusion of courage. 

“Fine. I met him when I kicked his ass at a BJJ seminar, thank ya very much. He has tattoos. Owns a gourmet street food truck. Hangs with his two kids in his spare time.” Santiago nods solemnly, as though his own curiosity is coming back to bite him all of a sudden. As though he’s growing less and less sure that you’re his. “And it’s...” You clear your throat. Christ, there’s no subtle way to do this. “I mean. It’s still early. We haven’t even said we’re exclusive yet, you know?”

Santiago nods slowly again, processing all of this. Studying your face intently, without giving much away himself as a heat claims your cheeks. You’re not sure what you want him to do with that final piece of knowledge, exactly. Can hardly bear to think about how desperate it must come off. 

Fuck. If he really cared about you, he’d let you go, wouldn’t he? But you won’t let him let you go. 

Maybe you really are just as bad as one other. 

“So… it’s not…” you continue, hoarsely. “I mean. It’s not serious.” 

Santiago gives you a look then though. One which is desolate, eyes scrubbed clean of that perpetual, vital spark. “Don’t,” he pleads softly. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t give me hope.” 

Santiago. 

Why the hell not, exactly?

Why the fuck shouldn’t you give him hope? After all, there is so much of it twisting in your chest. Hope that somehow, this time, this thing you share could maybe be different. There is such an abundance of hope that it only seems fair to heap it upon him too, doesn’t it? So that he may share the burden? 

“Okay. Whatever.” You set your mouth into a thin, pinched line, but there’s too much feeling bubbling up inside you to contain. “I missed you too, you know.” 

Then, despite what he’d just said…

His eyes spark, glancing off yours like flint on rock, no more settled ash here; only kindling catching. “Oh you did?” he purrs in a smooth voice, like breath bellowed into a burgeoning flame – giving you heat.  

You’re so fucked. 

You want his heat. You want… 

Fuck. 

Your bodies betray yourselves, your resolve, your best intentions, magnetising ever so slowly towards one another until you are almost chest to chest, all hitching breaths and need-burdened brows. Hovering hands and blown-out pupils and parted lips, inching closer. His finger trailing up your forearm like the crackle of a licking flame, causing you to gasp from the way it burns. 

He dips forward for a kiss you’ve waited months for. 

Months; and yet… when it comes to it? When you finally get what you think you want, you deny it. Your head whips to the side, chin to shoulder at the last moment, leaving Santiago’s lips moments from your cheek, his breath fanning warm against your skin. It takes everything you have not to turn – to offer your mouth to his so that he might quench your desire like a cooling tide rolling over a hot, needy shore. 

“Don’t…” you plead now too. Don’t, because if he starts, you will not have the strength to stop, and you’re so very tired of moving in circles. 

Santiago remains in place for a moment, chest moving with gently ragged breaths, the scent of him all over you like smoke. The heat of this desire – the desire to consume you, devour you like fuel - pouring off of him in waves, and desire sinks through your middle too, tacky and hot and rolling. 

“Shit,” he curses, dragging both his hands through his hair and causing waves of turmoil through his grizzled curls. He steps back from you, and you look down at where his hand had found your arm, half-expecting it to be singed. 

“Fuck, Santi,” you breathe - in despair, in relief - not knowing quite how you avoided this collision, your stomach in your throat as though you have lurched in a flung vehicle, narrowly avoiding the edge. 

This is the one thing you promised yourself, coming here. That you wouldn’t go there. Not again. But, despite trying, it’s quite apparent that you don’t know how to go anywhere else. Your body can barely comprehend itself without his now. After all, you’ve been like a river coursing towards him your whole life. Every sign and route and valley and peak leads you towards him. Every fear and hope of yours is mapped on his skin – hidden in the crooks and valleys of his body. At this point, you don’t know how to flow any other way. How to be anything other than a team. How to do anything other than combine. 

Except; when you combine, you collide. You buried your home in his bones, piece by piece, and you can no longer tell if that was love or violence. What do you do, when your home is also your battlefield? When you’ve already done enough fighting for a lifetime? When all you want is to feel safe and at peace, and he can’t give you that? 

Your eyes glance off of his again, and this time they are cool and liquid, salt tides shrouding his burnt umber eyes. “Is it always going to be like this?” he asks flatly. “We never gonna to be able to be around each other again?” He looks at you earnestly, and you realise that he’s genuinely waiting for an answer. 

“It can’t. It can’t always be like this.” Fraught. Difficult. Painful. It’s not an option. So, it can’t be a possibility. You can’t be with him; but more importantly, you can’t lose him. You just can’t. 

You are unsure which words Santiago swallows in the next moment, but you see them bob down his throat and into his chest. Then, you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling exposed by the pain stinging your eyes like woodsmoke. 

“So. Glad you got out, huh?” Santiago needles, and you wonder, for a moment, whether a small part of him is cruel too. You wonder what he truly wants to hear, and you resent the scepticism in his voice. Resent the way his words appear to say one thing, but his true meaning is clear. Look what you’ve done. 

“Yeah. I am.” What else can you even say? It’s evident that Santiago will never get down on his knees and beg you to come back. And, even if he did do so, he’d be missing the point. You can’t ever go back. You need him to follow you out, and, meanwhile, he’s still looking backward. “I know you won’t leave, Santi, but I couldn’t stay.”

He never did have a clear vision for his future, did he? He only ever had tactics. The next mission. The next pay packet. The next bust. The next lay. Short steps, and never strategic ones. Always a soldier, and never a leader, not even when it came to his own fate. 

Santiago sighs deeply, scooping his palm over his stubble. “I know,” he concedes, reluctantly. “I get that. I do.” The muscles in his jaw writhe as he bites the inside of his cheek. 

A truce. A ceasefire. For the moment. 

How did it come to this? 

“And?” you press, trying to soften your tone and getting halfway. “What about you? Are things… good?” Are they better? Better with you gone? 

Santiago looks at you then like you’ve just shot him in the leg, but like he also finds it kinda funny that you did. He juts his chin towards you in challenge. “What the shit do you expect me to say, huh?” 

Nothing, in truth. Nothing at all with his words. Everything with his lips. With his fingers. With the sting of his teeth on your lips. The rake of his stubble on your skin. With his touch. 

For a moment, once again, his eyes are soft and bright, and you can’t help it. Can’t help the way you take a couple of steps forward, extending your palm out to cup that pretty, ridiculously shapely jaw of his, the anger you’ve held on to for months lifting like a veil. 

It’s not his fault at all, is it? 

You simply loved him too soon; and he loved you too late.

Still, it feels a lot like love when he settles his warm, broad hand on top of yours. For all that has gone wrong, it still feels pretty right from where you’re standing. 

Your gaze dips to his full lips and God, yet again, you are only moments from caving. 

Maybe this time… 

Maybe if you just hope- 

“-Yikes! Sexual tension much? Hot as the Sahara in here.” 

You and Santiago jump apart from each other as a booming voice fills the room, your heads whipping towards the noise. 

Benny Miller. 

Benny Miller has arrived at the beach house, everyone. The towering man is clutching a couple of holdalls, and a rucksack is slung over his broad back. You notice his clownish, pearly grin first, and the howler of a bruise on his eye comes a close second. 

“Bring it in, bitches!” he encourages, opening his arms towards the two of you, and you quickly attempt to shift gears, a part of you grateful for the sudden interruption, but the whisper of that almost kiss lingering on your lips all the same. 

Still, before Santiago can succeed in reading the disappointment on your face, you practically leap into the arms of the younger Miller brother. 

“Benjamin!” you squeal in delight, squeezing him tight. 

“Miller,” Santiago grins, pulling the taller man in for a backslapping, neck-grasping embrace. 

“Where are the other chumps at?” Benny inquires, as soon as greetings have been exchanged, already beginning to shrug off his bags and piling them on to the floor.  

You nod your head in the direction of the beachside portion of the house. “Out front. Fire pit. Beers. Three dudes who ate their bodyweight in tamales. Get involved, Ben.” 

“Nice.” 

Benny bounds outside to say hello, insufferably energetic for this stage in the evening, and once again, you are left alone in the kitchen with Santiago. 

You feel like all of the air has suddenly been sucked right out of the room. And, with nothing else for it, you press the button on the dishwasher and it whirrs into action. Hell - that damn machine is the only thing around here getting any. 

“We’re done here then?” you question, and, not for the first time this weekend, you’re entirely unsure what it is you want to hear. 

Santiago looks at you. Looks at you with all the knowledge of someone who knows you in every way there is to know a person. His gaze is intense – locked and loaded and so very counter to the casual way he shoves his hands into his pockets. You wither under his stare, but his earnest words are the thing which ends you. “I wanna kiss you. So bad.” 

Your arms wrap tightly around your middle, as though you are searching around your skin for an exit wound; but no. Apparently, you have not yet worked him out from under your skin. Santiago is still the bullet inside your chest. His love still hurts. 

Apparently, there was no clean parsing of him from you when he slammed that door and walked away, but instead, the slow bleed of metal and blood under your skin. You think, all of a sudden; I will never get you out, will I? You are a part of me. You are scar tissue. The echo of a wound. 

Your eyes swim, and your burgeoning tears extinguish any fire you may feel. Any words you might say catch on hooks in your throat and never make it out at all. 

Santiago has something to say though, it seems, even as his gaze drops to his own toes and your silence speaks volumes. “For the record? It’s not good at all. Without you.” 

You press your palm to his chest, a gesture caught smack-bang between reaching to pull him closer and pushing him away. You shake your head lightly, your plea whispered into the tight space between you. “Santiago. Don’t.” 

And then, with a deep breath, you walk away. Calm and slow, but with just as much turmoil on the inside as when he had left you behind in a frenzy, doors slamming and voices raised. 

After he watches you leave, Santiago remains in the kitchen for a moment, stooped over and his hands braced, palms flat against the counter. 

Then, after a quick side-eye at the dishwasher - for it daring to whirr and intrude on his quiet, contemplative melancholy – he pushes it all down. Resumes wearing his mask. The one signaling that everything is fine. That he is fine, even though everything he held most dear seems lost. 

The truth is, he needs you. He loves you. He wants you. 

But you don’t seem to want to hear it. 

You had left, and you had also left him behind. 

The truth is, it breaks his heart. 

[one-squash-one-end]

I wrote a giant Raven Cycle analysis

Hi! Over the last year or so I've been working on a sort of essay about various themes in the raven cycle series, and I finally finished it a few weeks ago.

It is titled: "Why I love The Raven Cycle - An excessive analysis of the themes of friendship, queerness and growing up".

And since tumblr loves its meta (and bc I love peer validation) I've decided to start uploading it bit by bit here, making this the masterpost (if I can figure out the logistics of the linking lmao, bear with me)

(beware of spoilers up to greywaren starting at like 3b!)

Introduction

What even is the Raven Cycle?

Trust me, the characters are queer as fuck and I can prove it a) Blue Sargent b) Gansey c) Adam Parrish d) Ronan Lynch e) Noah f) Henry Cheng g) Honorary mentions

The Gangsey is a polycule

Analyzing the reoccurring themes a) Friendship b) Being a teen/growing up c) (Found) Family d) Magic (as a metaphor) e) Further themes I appreciate

Drawing a conclusion

Click here to start with the introductory parts!

1. Introduction

So here’s the thing: I love fiction almost as much as I love my friends. There’s something deeply comforting about the escapism, even if the book actually makes me want to scream and throw it on the floor (only one book has been thrown so far, I promise!).  Fiction is a healthy thing to occupy my thoughts with: headcanons! Quotes being on loop in my brain! Just fandoms!

And for me, if I am hooked on a book (series), it does not even need a good plot where a lot of things happen. In fact, I would say that my enjoyment of a book is made up of 30% plot and about 70% characters and vibes. If the characters are bland, if they do not make me feel much emotion, it likely won’t be more than 4 stars (additional info: I am way too nice rating books!). I really, really need to love the characters, to be able to relate to some aspects of them, or it just won’t become an obsession.

Since I have already started explaining that a bit, let’s look at this question: What is important to make a book special to me? 1. I need to cry reading it. 2. I have to think about it often, even weeks to months after having read it. 3. Obviously, I need to love the characters. 4. I need to be in the fandom! This can be hard with some books, but the internet is a whimsical space allowing you to find at least a small number of people who are obsessed with a work of fiction to a similar extent as you are.

Now, why am I elaborating on this so much? It’s because The Raven Cycle did all that for me. It is my favorite comfort book series at the moment, for all those aspects mentioned, but of course I cannot just leave it at that. No, I wrote a whole-ass analysis on headcanons and some of its themes. You’re welcome.

2. What even is The Raven Cycle?

The Raven Cycle is all I adore and live for (next to my friends). So, naturally, it’s a book series, specifically a four book young adult contemporary fantasy series by American author Maggie Stiefvater. The books in question are: The Raven Boys (2012), The Dream Thieves (2013), Blue Lily, Lily Blue (2014) and The Raven King (2016), and yes I will admit that the publishing dates are a bit of a red flag. There is also the very relevant follow-up series called The Dreamer Trilogy (Call Down The Hawk, Mister Impossible, Greywaren), but it’s a lot less easy to get into that here as I do not know these entire books by heart, so I’ll stick to the original tetralogy here.

To stick to red flags, the books are set in the fictional Henrietta, a rural town in non-fictional Virginia, US, in the 2010s. However, that doesn’t really say *that* much about the plot, so let me summarize that really quick, because I can do better than the official synopsis! (Or let’s pretend I can.)

Blue Sargent comes from a family of psychics, yet she does not have any powers of her own. Even worse, she is a bit of an amplifier for the others, meaning she is always somehow but never directly involved in the business. As if that isn’t enough for an identity crisis, every psychic she has ever met has told her that her kiss would kill her true love. Yikes.

But because she is that amplifier, she comes to a church watch on St. Mark’s Eve, where psychics see the spirits of those to die within the following year. It’s important business, but to her it’s really just staring into the dark. Until she does actually see a spirit: That of Gansey. Of course this is not a coincidence. No, to add to this teen’s mount of problems, there are only two reasons why a non-seer would see someone’s spirit: They are their true love, or they killed them. Or, in Blue’s case, maybe both.

The aforementioned Gansey is Henrietta’s Golden Boy, the son of politicians (read: he’s fucking loaded). He does not run with the Republicans though, he runs with dead Welsh kings, meaning he has been searching for the probably dead, presumably sleeping Welsh king Glendower (*1350; †1416; yikes) for the past like seven years. Why the fuck would he do that? Well, legend says that he will grant a wish to whoever wakes him, and our favorite PTSD-ridden guy really wants that favor.

Aiding him are fellow Aglionby students Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch and Noah Czerny, plus Henry Cheng, though only a lot later in the series, but I really did not want to leave out that menace (affectionately) here. The paths of Blue and the boys cross because of Gansey’s search for Glendower, plus the fact that Blue works at a popular pizza place, but that’s a lot less whimsical. And, well, there’s the implication that Gansey might also be her true love, but perhaps she just kills him because of his bad fashion sense, it would be justified. Anyway, in true Famous Five fashion (Ronan is the dog; I won’t elaborate, the girls that get it, get it) they are of course not the only ones searching for the king, so it’s not completely a wholesome friend bonding activity all the way through.

Be prepared for: friendship and growing up, lots of treasure hunting, family mysteries, magical forests, illegal and slightly distasteful activities (our favorite of course), but most of all, heavily queer-coded (or even canonically queer) characters. Be Gay, Do Crime.

[arminreindl]

The NEW Ultrastenos and its Ironic History

So those that have been keeping up with my posts on mekosuchines might recall the name Ultrastenos, as I've talked about this genus back in August of last year. If you've read that post you might also remember how I highlight at multiple points that a lot of the info was tentative on the basis that Ultrastenos was highly incomplete and that close relatives awaited description.

You may also remember "Baru" huberi, a small mekosuchine that lived roughly around the same time, clearly distinct from Baru yet at that point still unnamed. Oh, how I wished for the former to get more material and for the latter to recieve a proper genus assignment.

My now outdated reconstructions for "Baru" huberi (the small one in the left image) and Ultrastenos (right image)

And then the monkey's paw curled.

As it turns out....they are the same damn animal. Now, back when "Baru" huberi was described, Willis also named a bunch of other mekosuchines from the same locality (the White Hunter Site of the Riversleigh WHA) and described even more material that remained unnamed, including the White Hunter Cranial Form 1. Now, when Ultrastenos was named in 2016, the type material was from the Low Lion Site (also Riversleigh), but importantly, the skull tables identified as WHCF1 were also assigned to the genus (and were the basis for my reconstruction).

Well, re-examination has shown that the WHCF1 and the holotype of "Baru" huberi aren't just a single species.....THEY ARE A SINGLE INDIVIDUAL.

Given the fact that the assignment of the skull table to the Low Lion Ultrastenos material still holds up, this means that Ultrastenos willisi and "Baru" huberi are a single taxon. Which consequently requires some reshuffling of the names.

"Baru" huberi was named first, so the species name takes priority and continues being used. However, since it was never given a genus name, Ultrastenos does stay valid. Except now it's called Ultrastenos huberi, not Ultrastenos willisi. A name that has aged like milk. Back in 2016 it was proposed that Ultrastenos had a very narrow snout (thus the name), so now that we know that the rostrum was flat and mesorostrine, the name really is just wrong.

So next up, lets examine what went wrong.

As I said before, Ultrastenos was fragmentary, so that certainly played a big part in it. But the team in charge of describing the animal still cited several lines of thinking to support their interpretation, most of which are now thoroughly debunked.

As an example, the lower jaw was rather shallow, however while this was initially taken as evidence for longirostry, the 2024 paper states that this only an argument against altirostry (a deep skull), not against a more generalized condition. The teeth were also initially used as evidence, citing their homodont condition (the teeth looked uniform), HOWEVER, the problem in that was that there were only a few teeth present, all of which notably do not bear any resemblance to the needle-like teeth seen in other long-snouted taxa. Another important clue initially taken to mean longirostry was the orientation of the quadrate area and the seemingly sudden constriction of the lower jaw. But the quadrate area was not found in articulation and would support a generalized skull form if simply rotated a little, while the constriction of the mandible appears to at least be partially exaggerated by preservation.

Of course, the fact that we now have proper material of the snout makes the interpretation of a generalized skull shape a lot more solid.

Image 1: The left and right halves of the mandible of Ultrastenos compared to that of Baru iylwenpeny (D), note how the right half is a lot more straight. Image 2: The initial reconstruction of the quadrate area of Ultrastenos compared to one that is slightly rotated Image 3: The revamped skull reconstruction by Yates and Stein

The size of the animal does stay relatively unaffected by these new discoveries. "Baru" huberi has been estimated at only around 1.5 meters in length and my own scaling of Ultrastenos got up to 2 meters, which seems to be in line with what is still assumed for this animal. So among aquatic mekosuchines, its still rather small.

There are however some interesting implications for mekosuchines at large. Now that we no longer have a longirostrine member of this family, one has to wonder, why is that? Well, there might be several reasons.

It could be that the types of environments that were present in Cenozoic Australia simply didn't support such animals. Even in the type description, its been noted that the Riversleigh isn't exactly known for its fish remains, leading to the idea that Ultrastenos might have gone for other small vertebrates like frogs. Hell, the ecology of Baru might suggest that the reason that this genus was so robust might tie to the fact that the local bodies of water just weren't deep enough to allow the typical crocodilian grab-and-drown tactic.

Competition might have been another factor. In environments that may have been more suitable for such morphology, mekosuchines might have been beaten to the punch by other types of crocodilians. Harpacochampsa for example, tho originally thought to be a mekosuchine, is now more often regarded as either an unrelated crocodile or a gharial and its very possible that it filling the nische of a longirostrine simply meant that mekosuchines didn't have the opportunity to expand into that space. Same goes for Gunggamarandu in the Pliocene and Pleistocene and Freshwater Crocodiles from the Pleistocene onwards. (Tho it should be noted that both Harpacochampsa and Gunggamarandu are so fragmentary that their snout shape is technically unknown).

Images: Gunggamarandu (Eleanor Pease), Harpacochampsa (ArtbyJRC) and Freshies (Antoni Camozzato) might have been key factors in why mekosuchines never evolved slender snouts.

Finally, its also possible that something in the growth of mekosuchines simply prevents them from evolving longirostrine skulls, which Yates and Stein liken to alligatoroids (notably the closest alligatoroids got to traditional longirostry as seen in gharials is the Rio Apaporis Caiman, and even that one is closer to some extant crocodiles in its morphology).

Whatever the case, I for one mourn the loss of our long-snouted Ultrastenos. Tho as a note for any paleoartists, there is not a single illustration of this new interpretation since nobody ever drew "Baru" huberi either. Wink wink nudge nudge

Links:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ultrasteno

Ultrastenos revised (palaeo-electronica.org)

[thefourchimes]

lots of encanto AUs i want to talk about so here you go

so uh, i've been brain rotting and hyperfixating on encanto for a bit now, and its been very fun

tho i've barely talked about some of the ideas and aus i have and want to share, so i guess i want to do that now in a way, so uh... (mirabel voice) lets go lets go

List of AUs here:

Time Travel AU

Big Hero 6 AU

[Redacted] AU (not the au's actual name, hidden for reasons)

Ghost Cocoon AU (fusion idea au i came up with of the cocoon au by @raefever and ghost grandchildren au by @jerseyk112, both found in @gamerbearmira's blog)

Giftless Grandkids AU (idea by anon, also found in @gamerbearmira's blog)

Undertale AU

Gravity Falls AU

P.S. some of these au ideas are not originally mine, but i've contributed to them in some way, and i've credited and tagged the creators

More information of the AUs found below

1. Time Travel AU

first au i've ever thought about, cool hue sisters centered, because i love them sm and i was still finding my footing in encanto and the fandom when i thought of this au, and yeah

its where isabela and luisa get sent back to the past after going after and protecting mirabel as casita falls

i gained the idea after seeing how the two older sisters were still so terrified of alma and disappointing her that they couldn't stand up for mirabel and for themselves, but as casita was falling, they weren't about to let their baby sister go, not after everything

despite this being the first au, its also still really vague and barebones in a sense, not much planned yet and its all just vibes, plus i just really wanted a cool sisters au because i love them sm

2. Big Hero 6 AU

ah yes, big hero 6 au, my beloved

came to be when i figured out bear aka @gamerbearmira's reference in one of her encanto one shots, the scooby doo one where they got arrested, and she used bh6's aunt cass' rant for alma's rant in said one shot, and then it led me to realize the potential of encanto big hero 6 au with bear, so that was fun

there's a post in bear's blog for the au, so you can check it out

there's a bunch more info that we haven't shared yet, but it's all written up in the docs for it, so yesyes

honestly been a bit since i touched the au personally, as i keep getting distracted by the other ones below

but yeah, planning on exploring of this au soon <3

3. [Redacted] AU

ah yes, this au, the 120 and counting pages one in my docs

and the 120 pages are mostly just details and planning for the au, not a single written thing yet

this au is not called redacted au, but the name itself is redacted because the word itself is a bit of a spoiler and im still trying to find a better name for it in general

i have no idea how to explain this au

first thing to mention is how its very much inspired by Take Back the Kingdom by @optimistic-violinist and @impossiblefangirl0632 (sorry for the tag, i can take it out if you'd like) and i really really recommend this fic, its so so good and it changed my brain chemistry on so many levels

so yes, i really got inspired by this fic, and it will very much be shown in this particular au with some things and tropes, but ofc im doing my own spin on stuff and the details, and from what i have rn, i think it really evolved and is still evolving as time goes on

another thing to note about this is how the idea came to be because of TBTK inspiration and a dream i had on the day i was taking a metaphysics midterms exam (this is completely unnecessary to mention but oh well, i still remember that moment so vividly)

the dream impacted just exactly how this au is going to go

what is the dream about? you'll find out whenever i get to write this au

all i can say without spoiling much is that there are lots of memory shenanigans and angst, plus the very fun trope of "your found family is your actual family"

also once more, read take back the kingdom, very good fic, 11/10, much recommend, will reread again

4. Ghost Cocoon AU

this au is the fusion of the Cocoon au and the Ghost Grandkids au, both still found in @/gamerbearmira's blog

ghost grandkids au is from @jerseyk112 and cocoon au is from @raefever, and ofc bear has a lot of ideas and thoughts for these aus in her blog

i was rereading bear's cocooned fic for the 17123723507 time and while i was at it, i remembered the ghost grandchildren au, so i decided it would be pretty fun to fuse the two aus together in some way

and so i did (first ask, second ask)

basic premise of this au is really just the ghost kids' healing and them protecting their younger selves and their family

this fusion au interested me so much that it got to the point where i actually wrote a 3683 word first chapter of sorts(?) for this fusion au already (bear has seen it but i havent posted it at all)

planning on continuing it when i feel like it tho hehe

so yes its been wild with this one

5. Giftless Grandkids AU

giftless grandkids au, my beloved

just as the name says, au where all the grandkids are giftless

all i can say is everything and nothing changes all at the same time with this

this au was sent and suggested by an anon in bear's blog

this is also the one where bear and i went wild on for the past few days

pretty sure bear is gonna be writing this au, if im not mistaken? so its very exciting

there's a lot in store for this au and it'll be fun

6. Undertale AU

undertale au yesyes

not the type where the characters are these characters tho

this idea is where we'll be throwing the grandkids into the underground for an adventure of a lifetime!

so basically characters of one media meet characters of the other media type

and the kids are gonna be going through the plot of undertale, technically in frisk's shoes here

this au is still very vibes and not much planned, there's lots of potential to play around tho, so im thinking of exploring this at some point soon

7. Gravity Falls AU

gravity falls au this time!!

now this au is the one pure vibes one, absolutely zero planning or thoughts, just vibes and aspirations for it

not even sure if it'll be like the undertale au where characters of one media will meet characters of the other media or if it'll be characters from this media are gonna be these characters of that media in this au

i just thought it would be fun to have an encanto gravity falls au idea, but still dont know where it'll be going in general

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

So that's about it, there's actually a few more ideas i havent mentioned yet, but let's just say these ideas are exactly like the gravity falls au vibing no planning, except much worse in a sense, so i have no idea what kind of footing there will be at all with those aus

but anyway, i digress, these are some of the ideas and aus i have and would love to share and write and uh, yeah

if you have any questions on these aus, feel free to ask if ever, my asks are open (this is the first time im saying this in a post omg help)

but anyway yes the brainrot and hyperfixation is real

if you got here to the end, congrats have a pic of my dog for your effort and dedication <333 see you around <3

[beebopboom]

The Second…….Ball?

A bookshop, Eden, and something more?

In part 1 we discussed

the structure of the bookshop being similar to 17th century French gardens, a maybe hidden Tree of life, the idea of timestreams relating to the roads and rivers, and all that to just say the bookshop perhaps all of Wickber Street is their version of Eden

Part 1.5 was just a couple theories that have been floating around my head concerning

the book of life

the rings and a fly

the bookshop

a coffee

honestly I'm probably going to do a little editing. It’s not a necessary reading 

But finally made it to part 2 where I'm going to dive into some out of order events and two different parts of the same story being played out at the same time plus the actual main plot, specifically in the last two episodes - though there is probably more earlier in the season

you can imagine the jumble that has been brain and why it took longer than I wanted to get this out.

Background Info

In part 1 I mentioned that the Tree of Life was mentioned in two particular books in the Bible - Genesis and Revelations. Now we’ve discussed the Genesis part - Eden - and now we are going to talk about Revelations - New Jerusalem

The Book of Revelation is the only apocalyptic book in the New Testament and it's where the Second Coming comes from - written by a John. It was mentioned in season 1 and I’m going to be making a lot of references to it throughout this.

New Jerusalem is the place where all true believers will spend eternity with God and is said to have pretty similar features to Eden - the rivers, the Tree of Life, the wall, and a square shape. Something that this place is also said to have is 12 gates.

The New Jerusalem. Armenian manuscript by Malnazar and Aghap’ir in New Julfa bible, 1645

Oh lookie there mighty similar design to 17th century french gardens

But anyway want to take a guess at what has 12 windows?

*I used the fire to show what windows are connected to the bookshop*

Ok but let’s get into the actual point of this I’ve talked enough about set design

Have we already seen a version of the Second Coming? Why yes we have

In episode 5 we are following two different stories cutting back and forth between the two - Aziraphale’s and Shax’s

Now before I get into this I’m just going to say that I know Good Omens is a parody to actual Biblical events and who knows what is actually going to happen in season 3 besides the man himself. We do know that this season was setting up for the next and that parallel scenes are a favorite. So these are just some parallels I noticed if you place some characters into the roles of others and it could very well turn out to be wrong

Shax’s Siege

The thing about Shax’s character is that she is always looking for opportunities to get ahead and make connections that could benefit her later. We see it in 1941 and between then and now she has worked her way up from desk duty to Hell’s rep on earth.

And when she finally gets permission to attack the bookshop she actually takes up another role. Or shall I say multiple.

It is very obvious that once Shax gets to Earth she is out of her league - bitten off more than she can chew so to say - and yet she still wants more and is very good at manipulating beings to get there.

So she wants to storm the bookshop with legions of demons but only gets about 70. The thing that is interesting about there approach is you have demons coming from all four roads and she arrives last. And this is where we jump into Revelations.

In chapter 13 it talks of two beast - one from the sea and one from the land. The beast from the sea is said to have 7 heads, 10 crowns on the horns, is like a leopard with feet of a bear and the mouth of a lion, and one of its heads is said to have a mortal wound that is healed. This description has been likened to the four beast in the Book of Danial chapter 7 which were symbols of the four kingdoms - Babylon, Medes-Persia, Greece, and Rome. Some say this beast is the Antichrist as it is empowered by Satan to persecute Christians, blasphemy against God, and cult-like worship.

But all that to say I think that the arrival of the demons from all four sides was meant to kind of represent this. With the four beast representing the four kingdoms arriving on our four rivers roads. It’s not a perfect parallel but it is not meant to be - it’s meant to be a shitty rendition of what is basically Armageddon.

Now the second beast is mainly referred to as the false prophet. The only description is that it comes from the ground, two horns like a lamb but having the voice of a dragon. It has all the authority of the first beast and makes the inhabitants of earth worship the first beast, it breathes life into the first beast. It performs great signs like making fire come down from the Heavens to the Earth and causes all to be marked with the mark of the beast. Some call this beast the antichrist because it is performing miracles similar to that of Jesus.

This is the role I think Shax is trying to play - somewhat successfully. She arrives coming up out of the lift and through actions we see later kinda fulfill some of the rest of these points.

She also kind of jumps back and forth between these two beast with her authority - almost like she is not actually meant to be here, that they are all out of order. Mainly trying to be in the Antichrist position.

Shax is working the best with what she got.

But let’s switch over to our other story before we get to the confrontation

Aziraphale’s Ball

In his part of the episode we have been following him around as he invites people to this “meeting”. Crowley is also there for a little bit until he is brought back to reality so to say by Nina and eventually goes to confront Gabriel.

But back to Aziraphale who is going shop to shop in alphabetical order as is on the list on his clipboard. And this is where we start to get some Revelation parallels.

Whereas the Shax parallels started in chapter 13 Aziraphale joins in at the end of chapter 20 with the mention of the Book of Life - or in other words the list of names that are let into this New Jerusalem, that were God’s people.

Aziraphale having a list of people that he is inviting into his bookshop, a notorious place where he doesn’t want humans I feel is pretty significant. But all doesn’t go smoothly and he has to convince some people to come - I could go into each person he talks too but mainly he is using books and christmas lights to convince the people who don’t want to come. But what could those represent?

Books - eternal life for authors

Christmas Lights - the light that Jesus brought back into a world of darkness

Giving out the books/fruit of the Tree of Life so people will come to the ball/paradise hmm Aziraphale?

Interesting that we don’t see Mr. Brown’s shop on this list isn’t it? Keep that in mind.

But we continue on to Aziraphale decorating the Bookshop. With two scenes of him doing this one - moving the bookcases, or interior walls, and two - bring the chandelier down

In chapter 21, John is said to have seen New Jerusalem and New Earth descend from the Heavens - noting that there was no temple,

This could be paralleled to the scene where Crowley is looking into the Bookshop watching as Aziraphale has a chandelier descend from the ceiling.

It’s also important to note at this point that Gabriel arriving quite literally upended their lives and inadvertently set off the very same events he didn’t want to happen, The Second Coming. With him acting as a Jesus parallel.

But back to what is happening with Aziraphale. People are starting to arrive!! And he is changing their clothes?

Revelation 22:14 - Blessed are those who wash their robes, so they may have access to the tree of life and they may enter the city by the gates.

Washing their robes is meant to symbolize a full cleansing from sin that they must be free from to enter New Jerusalem

So Aziraphale is changing (washing) their clothes to make them acceptable for the ball (New Jerusalem)

Now you may be wondering how would you even prove that it happened? The seamstress conversation is how.

On one side it probably was how people from the time period Aziraphale is trying to create talked but it’s also removing the nature of the “sin”

Aziraphale does not even know what she technically does and yet it is still changed. When Mrs. Sandwich later tries to say what her job is she can’t actually say it and has to describe it - all using sewing terms. She even calls out at one point that the “devil may take it.”

But why? Aziraphale doesn’t even know and if he did I doubt he was care very much - unless something else was at play here.

Heavens standards - which in this universe includes adultery as bad, as a sin. We see examples with the references to Solomon and Gomorrah and “Thou shall not commit adultery Pulsifer”

The way she describes it as well leans towards this angle as well. With the “in want of the tender attention of a wife”

But back to Jim though who throughout all of this has been our Jesus parallel - he is out mingling with the people for the first time dressed in a wonderful blue suit.

Revelation 22 - The throne of God and the Lamb are in the city, and His people worship Him. There is no night and no need for other sources of light, for the Lord Himself gives the light, and they reign forever.

God and Jesus finally walking among and interacting with their people - and Jim seems to be having a grand ol time

yes i’m putting Aziraphale into Gods position- tricky business there i know

There is also some more references with the Candelabra’s that are around the shop - both the 3 and 7 versions. These guys have a bunch of different meaning but the ones that really stick out is The Holy Trinity and the Seven Angels or the Seven Churches

(I also had this whole bit planned about the temple which is said to be destroyed in the Second Coming of Jesus because it now holds no place in Jerusalem because God and Jesus are now among them and relating it to the Second Temple. I’m a bit iffy about it though just with some of reasoning but that was the basics of it - I might end up coming back to this at some point)

But all this to say that Aziraphale has basically made his version of paradise - unintentionally mirroring what is said to be the real one

The Collide

And our two stories meet….somehow. We left off with Shax in chapter 13 and Aziraphale in chapter 22 so quite a bit has to happen to get them to the same place - and it does a little bit out of order

Things come crashing to a stop quite literally when the demons throw the brick? wall piece? through the window. Shax makes her threats particularly to the humans. Perhaps because they don’t have the Mark of the Beast? Which they would need to buy things and as we know from Jim earlier, they aren’t selling

But the next big event is Jim walking out of the bookshop

which has been linked to this pose

and continues Shax’s story into Revelations 14

Revelation 14:14 Then I looked, and behold, a white cloud, and on the cloud sat One like the Son of Man

but he is also start Aziraphale’s story back up when he goes back into the shop - just going backwards now

Revelation 20:5 The rest of the dead did not come to life until the thousand years were completed. This is the first resurrection. How fortunate and holy is the one who has a share in the first resurrection!

Mr. Brown then gets grabbed and thrown out of the shop, remember how his shops name wasn’t on the list? His name is not in the Book of Life therefore he is thrown into a Lake of Fire

Crowley then brings the humans back outside telling them to go back to their shops thus removing them from New Jerusalem and reversing judgement

and then he exits the stage as well and our jumping around really begins with episode 6 - so quick-fire

Shax gains confidence in her attack as soon as she notices Crowley has left and while this is happening Aziraphale put the chandelier back…. from wherever it came from. Effectively undescending New Jerusalem and putting that behind them as they work to meet up to where Shax is at in the story.

Aziraphale starts setting up the portal and tells Shax she is not welcomed here

Revelations 14: 9-11 - Then a third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, “If anyone worships the beast and his image, and receives his mark on his forehead or on his hand, he himself shall also drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out full strength into the cup of His indignation. He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment ascends forever and ever; and they have no rest day or night, who worship the beast and his image, and whoever receives the mark of his name.”

Demons throw trash into the bookshop and Aziraphale runs off to tell Jim to hide leaving Maggie and Nina to deal with Shax

Revelation 14: 17-20 Then another angel came out of the temple which is in heaven, he also having a sharp sickle. And another angel came out from the altar, who had power over fire, and he cried with a loud cry to him who had the sharp sickle, saying, “Thrust in your sharp sickle and gather the clusters of the vine of the earth, for her grapes are fully ripe.” So the angel thrust his sickle into the earth and gathered the vine of the earth, and threw it into the great winepress of the wrath of God. And the winepress was trampled outside the city, and blood came out of the winepress, up to the horses’ bridles, for one thousand six hundred furlongs.

Maggie is then manipulated by Shax to let the demons in the shop

By this point I think the true role of Shax has come into play and it’s a nod back to Madam Tracy. The role is in Revelation 17 - The Whore of Babylon - the epitome of sin, ruler over 7 kingdoms, quick with her tongue and good with her words, draped in the finest clothes of purple and scarlet 

Demons start to enter the shop and Aziraphale activates the portal - Shax discorporates Eric and we see Jim’s position on the stairs above everyone

Revelation 15 - The Seven Plagues - yes I know they haven’t quite got to anything else besides the portal and even then they don’t use seven different things but this chapter really is just setting up for the next and I wanted to mention one thing before moving into the next

Revelation 15:8 And the temple was filled with smoke from the glory of God and from his power, and no one could enter the temple until the seven plagues of the seven angels were completed

the smoke coming from the demons discorporating and the fire extinguishers while Jim is absent

Demons start stepping into the portal - Maggie, Nina, and Aziraphale have to come up with another plan - Demons push book selves over and Maggie and Nina start with the fire extinguishers

They have now gone up the stairs to the second floor of the bookshop for the first floor has been over taken by the demons - Aziraphale charges Shax to leave this place - Shax starts to insult Aziraphale

Revelation 18:2 With a mighty voice he shouted: “ ‘Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great!’She has become a dwelling for demons and a haunt for every impure spirit, a haunt for every unclean bird, a haunt for every unclean and detestable animal.

Jim is sent away after asking if anyone wants hot chocolate

I don’t have anything to compare this to. I just think it’s interesting that Aziraphale(and Maggie and Nina) were offered hot chocolate and declined, especially with all the talks about coffee vs death

Maggie and Nina continue with the fire extinguishers - and then they start with the books - no more fire extinguishers or books and Aziraphale pulls out the old Halo trick

Revelation 16 - Bowls of Wrath - now the chapter with the actual description of the seven bowls. By now we have seen all of the moves Aziraphale, Maggie, and Nina pull but I really wanted to point out the comparison of the last bowl particularly what happened afterwards and the Halo so,

Revelation 16:17-20 The seventh angel poured out his bowl into the air, and out of the temple came a loud voice from the throne, saying, “It is done!” Then there came flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder and a severe earthquake. No earthquake like it has ever occurred since mankind has been on earth, so tremendous was the quake. The great city split into three parts, and the cities of the nations collapsed. God remembered Babylon the Great and gave her the cup filled with the wine of the fury of his wrath. Every island fled away and the mountains could not be found.

All demons are discorporated with Shax unconscious on the couch

Revelation 19:2 for true and just are his judgments. He has condemned the great prostitute who corrupted the earth by her adulteries. He has avenged on her the blood of his servants.

Revelation 19:20 And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet who in its presence had done the signs by which he deceived those who had received the mark of the beast and those who worshipped its image. These two were thrown alive into the lake of fire that burns with sulfur.

and with that it is over

so yeah that was a lot and it’s not perfect but remember when it was mentioned back in season 1 it was among prophecies that were not entirely accurate and that it was a rushed, only kinda planned attack. So really I just view this as very quick run down version of the Second Coming where there is not enough players

plus you have Crowley’s side to this story which seems to be the reality - dealing with the actual problem that has been going on throughout the season (Gabriel) instead of hosting a Ball or trying to make a power play

but if you made it this far have a little treat in the spirit of the holiday season, or if you don’t celebrate anything than just for getting to the end of this

New Jerusalem was also described as "the bride, the wife of the lamb” - and we all know that Ball was for Aziraphale and Crowley, as much as he may deny it, so really Aziraphale was saying “let’s get married, I’m your wife now”

[yuckydraws]

(Click for better quality)

Hey, remember when I was making refs? Yeah, me neither. Anyways, here's Tilly!

(CW: Mentions of Horrortale underground)

Few Word Characteristics

Sassy

Knowledgeable

Generous

Insecure

Cautious

Private

Self-Destructive

Verbose

Information on his design (+ not shown, but still important info)

Without a steady magical food source, his magic grew increasingly unstable which caused a very late-stage, very painful forced growth spurt. He's 8'3" (251cm) and lanky.

This growth spurt, as well as years of being in a constant survival state, has left him with some severe chronic pain in his back. He's been to physical therapy and has a routine to help with the pain. He takes it day by day, but he's making progress. Some days, he doesn't need his cane, others he does, and some days he can't even get out of bed.

His tail also grew during the famine, but it's not as expressive as it once was, just like himself.

His teeth were beyond messed up upon coming to the UT universe. He's since had lots of work done to fix them, and he's in the late stages of braces, but his time with them keeps getting extended - which he's very frustrated with.

His sunken sockets left him with horrible eyesight. He's nearsighted, but he can't see much without his glasses.

He uses washi tape to keep his glasses on. He refuses to get a strap for his glasses, claiming it makes him look like he's wearing goggles. He has a collection of washi tape, he has a pattern for every occasion.

He's missing his thumb, pointer finger, and part of his middle finger on his right hand. This was an injury he sustained early on in the famine. He's righthanded, so he's since had to relearn how to write with his left.

He still has a love of puzzles, though he's stopped building his own. He usually sticks to classic puzzles but he also enjoys crosswords, 3-D puzzles, and sudoku.

He's developed a love for reading, too. Being limited on what he can do physically, he found that reading is actually quite fun. He reads all sorts of genres, but he especially loves non-fiction.

Because of this love for reading, he has lots of odd knowledge on all sorts of topics and he will info-dump about them.

This hobby of his drove him to become a librarian. It's a nice, quiet job, and he enjoys being surrounded by all sorts of knowledge.

He's got quite the sweater collection.

He has the same tattoo Papyrus has, and he absolutely hates it. It's a reminder of how his Undyne ultimately betrayed him and what she became.

His PTSD doesn't often show in extremes like Bear's does, but its still something he struggles with.

He looks out for Bear, just as Bear looks out for him, but he often ignores some of his own needs when it comes to Bear.

He's sassy and blunt, and has even less of a filter than Papyrus does. His sass is loving, and mostly teasing, but his big personality is just hiding some of his major insecurities.

[gojira-roars]

Asks: Open!

Mod: GRAAAAA🔥🔥🔥

Godzilla🦖: *wandering*

Background: Godzilla is a reptilian creature mutated by the bombs that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He is a kaiju, a Japanese term, meaning 'Strange Beast' and used to describe large monsters. He is protective of humanity, but will attack a human if threatened.

Mod's Interpretation: Mix of headcanons and adaptations of Godzilla (not including Shin Godzilla)

Physical Appearance:

His physical appearance is mostly based on the 2019 appearance from Godzilla: King of Monsters

He has stands upright, and has charcoal blackish green skin/scales

Has 3 rows of dorsal plates running down his back, all the way to his tail. They are retractable and glow when he is using certain abilities

Is 393 ft. tall, but shrinks down to about 6-7 ft. Is almost like a big dog on two legs

Abilities:

Atomic breath, which cause his dorsal spines to glow. The color of the glow corresponding with the intensity of the beam

Nuclear pulse, a last resort if threatened. Shoots radioactive energy that shoots in all directions and can seriously injure humans, obviously

Extreme injury resistance. He can withstand a lot of damage, but needs rest to heal

Extreme strength

Powerful bite

Aquatic abilities, such as swimming and breathing underwater. He's a giant crocodile, basically

Extreme intelligence, can comprehend human speech and can, in some form, communicate with groans, growls, facial expressions, etc. He cannot speak

Altering his height

Mod info👇👇👇

Mod is Kyla! Age is 17 and is diagnosed autism and adhd. Pronouns are it/its and she/her. Can experience burnout so please be patient with replies and asks!

NO NSFW ASKS!!

Pls inform me of your triggers if needed!!🫂

Swearing is okay 😭👍

Other accounts! : @anna-possession-speaks

[skunkes]

can u tell us more abt al and smunker lore!!

its not really anything tangible or even interesting its just the current backdrop for my little continuous daydream i explore before sleeps

Foundational info:

(in past) Cow Al is struggling to recover from emotional crisis experienced in college (traumatic relationship), + tries to hold down some jawb but finds himself unable to stay in that environment away from home (none of his "friends" acknowledge the turmoil which makes him feel more lost), + moves back to family farm.

He likes doing different kinds of manual jobs which are always needed around + he does have that "my parents are my best friends" thing going on so he kind of just stays there to present day.

He lives in a little, idk what else to call it but a mobile home, but its the longer rectangular ones ykwim, some ways off the main Hub. (Also there's lots of focus on community in my furryverse + there's lots of non al family furs living in and working on the place + sharing resources and work and such. Its not a HUGE place but its big ^_^)

Anyway, Smunker moves in to the little forest that you cld walk to from the farm area. He lives in a little sunken tree stump den thing hee heeeee. Not many other furs live there, + there's actually more Lesser Animals (what i call just regular non furry animals) present

-

The two of em meet at a grocery store, there was a relevant little point here that I forgot, which was that one of em wasn't even supposed to be there that first day for (x reason). Whatever.

The area that Cow Al lives in doesn't have very many Different looking furs. Al's family is actually all natural colors too. So he sees this pink smunk and goes a little insane (positive) (he promises later its not just because smunker looks different, but it was what drew his eye) but they never really interact (al keeps going to that same store Just In Case lol) until one day (cliche incoming) the little wheeled ladder that helps smaller furs get to higher shelves isn't available + he gets to help smunker get something from high up (he all but runs to be able to be the person to do this LOL)

Al actually has game + is confident, he's just out of practice from prior Events. He loves being social and misses making/being able to make friends so he does in fact manage to build up on interactions with Smunker...they become friends ➡️ realize they live close to each other.

Al actually accidentally damages smunker's home at some point by accident, + houses them while it's fixed, and there's another instance where smunker gets his leg caught in an illegal bear/foot trap on the walk back home at night, and then Al is also adamant on keeping an eye on him while he heals (+ is also the one who had to go help him get out of said trap...its literally a whole dramatic thing.)

I think I'm keeping both of these events as canon because it leads to the funny little situation of Al being like no wayyyyy i actually for real like this guy now that we've spent more time together like this...i need him to sleep on my belly to live :3 and cant stop having weird dreams about him. Idk if he feels the same. heeeeeeeeeelp. While skunker is like. Im for real going to kill myself for inconveniencing this person. He probably thinks im the biggest nuisance ever. I've overstayed my welcome for sure.

I haven't yet decided on the event that gets em Together. Might just be a little "date" at nearby ducky pond or something LOL. Skunker is shocked either way like huhh I didn't even know you liked me... Al has to get used to having a small partner again + navigate a relationship that doesn't suck ass again. Smunker has to get used to having big nice bf who cares about them. They like each other

[erikatsu]

ᥫ᭡ THE PALE PRINCESS & THE SIX PYGMIES — THEORY

a theory revolving around the fairytale, dainsleif, and the tsaritsa

cw: sketchy sources (possibly leaked or fanmade info). take this with a grain of salt (says the hypocrite). norse lore connections. small pictures, apologies in advance.

I want to preface this with: there is only one available volume of The Pale Princess & The Six Pygmies in game. This in game story is a fairytale, yet is supposed to hold a lot of secrets/answers about the truth of Khaenri'ah— meaning some things will not add up for the sake of the writers (fanon or canon) not giving away the actual story. and buckle up bc this is long.

In Vol. 1 of The Pale Princess & The Six Pygmies (given to us by Lisa in the quest, "Lost book"), we learn about the "Moonlight Forest" and the "Night Mother". We all infer that the Moonlight Forest is Khaenri'ah and the Night Mother is the Unknown God.

The highlighted portions give us the context clues we need to make the assumption that it is Khaenri'ah. However, I think that assumption is wrong. If we take a closer look, it says the moonlight forest was the one thing the Night Mother could not bear. The Moonlight Forest is part of the Land of Night. It is free from the Night Mother because the moon is the brightest there.

If we think about it, one princess and six pygmies makes seven. There also seven archons and one happens to hold one hell of a grudge towards Celestia. "Oh, but eris what if it isn't related?" oh but trust me, it is.

As if the very first harbinger isn't from Khaenri'ah. Although if that isn't enough for you, they do confirm it in game during the "A Company Vanquishing Into the Deep" world quest.

Did you know that the nail there dropped because of the cataclysm? That was a lore drop in the "Perilous Trial" quest.

Now, if we think about it, Khaenri'ah would not be the Moonlight forest in the fairytale of The Pale Princess & The Six Pygmies because it would become obvious as the story progresses that its a retelling of major cataclysm events. In Vol. 2 (unreliable source: https://genshin.honeyhunterworld.com/i_100216/?lang=EN) it talks about how the Pale Princess ruled her kingdom with kindness and gentleness. The Tsaritsa has also been praised for this same thing (Childe & Scaramouche voice lines)

And let's not overlook what Scaramouche says about love being a form of sin. He pretty much confirms she is the Archon of Love (which Dainsleif also hints at in the story trailer).

Vol. 2 continues on to say that to the princess, the moon was like a hole where the light could pass through, and that if you followed it you could eventually see the world on the other side. She longed to go there, to bring her people there. When she asks herself if it's possible, she receives an answer in response and turns to see a prince.

In Vol. 3 (unreliable source: https://genshin.honeyhunterworld.com/i_100217/?lang=EN), he introduces himself as "the Prince of the Kingdom of Light from the other side of the world." And as he strode through the forest, life flourished around him and made the princess, along with her people, stronger. Together, they set off into the Land of Night so she can bring her people there.

In Vol. 4 (unreliable source: https://genshin.honeyhunterworld.com/i_100218/?lang=EN), the prince and princess arrive at the Kingdom of Pygmies. a "deformed" (focalors) pygmie asks them to help his brothers in exchange for his loyalty. the save a blind (zhongli) one, a foolish (nahida) one, a timid (murata) one, a shrunken (ei) one, and a carefree (venti) one. She promises them sight, wisdom, courage, and reinvigoration in the Kingdom of Light and they begin to follow her on her journey.

In Vol. 5 (unreliable source: https://genshin.honeyhunterworld.com/i_100219/?lang=EN), the pygmies fear of their destination turned into malice turned into evil plots. They planned to poison the prince, and only the deformed pygmy felt guilty about betraying his savior. Unfortunately, the corruption of the land of night made him give in.

In Vol. 6 (unreliable source: https://genshin.honeyhunterworld.com/i_100220/?lang=EN), the pygmies take the prince away. they throw a feast in celebration as the princess has no idea what's happening to her lover. The prince uses what's left of his soul to curse the pygmies. For the rest of their lives, they would feel as if they were being cooked alive in a giant cooking pot. After being cursed, the deformed pygmy decides to bring the prince back to the princess.

In Vol. 7 (unreliable source: https://genshin.honeyhunterworld.com/i_100221/?lang=EN), the deformed pygmy is greeted by the Night Mother instead of the princess. She tells the pygmy, "That foolish princess is now in chains. I destroyed the Moonlight Kingdom and cursed her people before her eyes. They will be in an undead state, lingering at the point between life and death forevermore. No soul and no moonlight" (which foils the curse of khaenri'ah). Before she leaves she tells the pygmy, "In thousands of years time, my greatest foe will descend. He wields a sword that heralds the dawn and wears armor that can reflect the shining sunlight. He shall destroy my kingdom and bring the Prince back to life. The Princess will then be free from her eternal torment. Until then, I fear not a single soul in the Land of Night, for nothing will bring an end to my kingdom except for the catastrophe foretold by the prophecy."

This story would be really fitting for an OttoKallen (Honkai Impact the 3rd) nod, given how it describes both the prince (being able to make things grow and get stronger, which one Otto expy can do– Luocha from Honkai: Star Rail) and the princess (as Kallen also has fair skin, light hair, and bright blue eyes). But, aside from that I think the Tsaritsa is represented by the Pale Princess. As for who the Prince is, I believe him to be Dainsleif. And the Herald (also known as a Harbinger) who will free them both is Pierro.

The Pale Princess & the Tsaritsa are both described as kind and gentle, and being wronged by a celestial being is something they have in common. But also, Fischl's character stories can give us more insight on the story (even though Fischl is technically playing a role, there is lore there). Pierro would be the Tsaritsa's Oz.

(Fischl's character story 3, Fischl's Story "Flowers for Princess Fischl: Phantasmagoria" , and the Shivada Jade Gemstone)

Fun fact: Fischl's and the Fatui's Leitmotif is similar (https://youtu.be/_nNkbJMRryg)

On top of that, Kaeya is the only cryo character who has constellations directly related to love. I don't think this is coincidence.

The Prince being Dainsleif makes a lot of sense if we take a look at Norse Mythology. One-Eyed King Irmin is the ruler of Khaenri'ah, and he parallels Odin (who also happens to be blind in one eye). Dainsleif would parallel Thor. Thor was not only the God of Thunder, but also he is associated with: sacred groves and trees, the protection of humankind, and hallowing. Dainsleif is the Bough Keeper (the Keeper of Irminsul & Irminsul is Genshin's version of Yggdrasil), and is always battling the darkness (the abyss) to prevent another cataclysm.

Another loose tie to Thor is when Dainsleif confirms to Halfdan that Khaenri'ah is not a place, but a people which is what Thor says in Thor: Ragnarok. The cataclysm is pretty much Khaenri'ah's version of Ragnarok (in mythology).

We learn Dainsleif is cursed in the We Will Be Reunited quest when the Abyss Sibling informs us of who Dainsleif is.

They fully blame him for the downfall of Khaenri'ah, and even though he shares the same curse as the other pure blood Khaenri'ahns, Abyss sibling pretty much confirms that the reason he was cursed was different from the rest of the people. Just as the Prince was poisoned and the people of the Moonlight Forest were cursed. It's also not a coincidence that Dainsleif and Pierro are the only true Khaenri'ah survivors we know (so far).

This is where it gets tricky with the story telling of The Pale Princess & the Six Pygmies.

Keeping all this is mind, it could also make sense if the punished one is Dainsleif, working as an agent of Celestia and The Tsaritsa is the cursed one. Either way, it leads me into my last point that kinda ties this all together.

In the story trailer, we know so far everything Dainsleif has said about each Archon has shown up in game. But the one that is seemingly contradictory is what he says about the Tsaritsa. He claims she is a god with no love left for her people, yet she is described as the opposite by two of her harbingers and other members of the Fatui.

Perhaps, he means the Archons and not the people of Snezhnaya. Afterall, all we really know is she was heavily affected by the Cataclysm + is striving to overthrow Celestia.

At the end of the trailer, he speaks to Aether and says this:

Most people believe the "her" he is referring to is Lumine, but considering that Snezhnaya is the last chapter before Khaenri'ah, and technically neither twin is canon, I don't think it is. I believe he is referring to the Tsaritsa and her divine punishment.

TAGGING: @dottores @neuvillettes @rougekithes

[tummymoth]

Of (Tattoo) Guns N' Roses [3]

Chapter 3: Right Next Door to Hell (read on Ao3 here)

Chapter Summary: Xie Lian falls and ends up hurting himself thanks to an old injury at work, and between that and a visit from his landlord, it just goes downhill from there.

Additional Info: florist!Xie Lian, strong language, slice of life, mentions of bruises, scarring, injury, etc., Jun Wu being creepy in general, if you're familiar with Chinese tea etiquette you will enjoy this, angry!Feng Xin, vaguely disappointed!Mu Qing, Xie Lian being in denial

Word Count: 7,014

<<Beginning <Previous Next>

As it turned out, Xie Lian didn’t need to concern himself with keeping busy. Not even an hour after Eming’s owner departed, his phone rang incessantly with people looking to request arrangements. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into the general public, but he wasn’t about to complain about the uptick of business on what would have otherwise been a sluggish end to the week. 

In the span of only a few hours, Xie Lian had received some 200 orders—a couple in person, but mostly over the phone. This was well over twice the average on any given day. Smaller ones took only about 30 minutes to fulfill, but it seemed that these new customers wanted exceedingly elaborate arrangements with exceedingly rare blooms. 

As these requests continued to pile up, the turnaround times grew from a half hour to three weeks. In short, it was simply not possible for one man to fulfill such a high demand. 

While the poor florist had been running around his shop like a headless chicken, Ruoye watched with calm eyes, dutifully moving from his cat bed on the windowsill to follow the sun as it followed its usual course across the sky.

It wasn’t until it came time to close up shop that the calls finally petered out. The floor was covered in stems and loose leaves thanks to the whirlwind of orders, and Xie Lian wasn’t sure if the sight of such a mess was something to celebrate or lament. Regardless, he had a lot of cleaning to do. 

He had just grabbed the mop to start on the puddles in the back room when the world slipped out from under him. 

Thud! 

One moment he was standing upright. The next, he found himself winded and at eye level with the now-fallen mop handle and a smooshed pile of flower cuttings. 

Luckily—well, the stinging pain in his arms led him to doubt the actual luck of his circumstances—his elbows had taken most of the impact from colliding with the unforgiving floor. Using the table as support, he went about hauling himself up with a pained groan and tried to not focus too hard on the bruises already forming. At least it wasn’t his head that hit the floor; he’d take some unsightly marks for a week or two over a concussion. 

Still leaning on the table, Xie Lian gave himself a once-over. Damp flower cuttings littered his clothes. He rolled up the now-soaked sleeves of his cardigan to examine the damage. The floor of his workroom was smooth cement, so aside from angry red blotches marring his otherwise pale skin, he saw no scrapes or open wounds and let out a relieved sigh. Good.

As regained his bearings, he felt soft fur gently butting against the part of his arm that wasn’t pulsating in pain. Ruoye had sidled up to him to ask for more pets. Xie Lian happily obliged with a light laugh. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that, little one,” he said. “How embarrassing.” Ruoye slowly blinked at him and leaned into his hand. They remained this way for another minute or so before the florist pulled away, much to the cat’s protest. 

“I need to keep cleaning, or else we’ll be here all night!” 

He dusted off whatever he could off of his clothes and took a step to fetch the fallen mop only to be stopped by a sharp, shooting pain in his right ankle. He hissed in pain and immediately shifted his weight to his left side. A pull of his pant leg revealed that it was already slightly swollen; it probably twisted when he fell. His first instinct was to brush it off of course, but Mu Qing would kill him if he caught wind of Xie Lian neglecting his injuries, however small they were.

Xie Lian scanned the room for the ice pack he used to always have on hand, but his phone started buzzing in his pocket yet again. A helpless sigh wrenched itself from his lungs, making Ruoye prick up his ears in response as he stole a glance at the clock. Two minutes until closing. Maybe they could call back tomorrow? The invoice sheets he used to document orders were piling up just from today. Surely it would be okay to let this one go… 

He shook his head and shoved a hand in his pocket to grab his phone. No. Up until today, the business had been almost agonizingly slow; he needed to take all the orders he could to keep up with the rent for both the shop and the apartment. Who knows when it will be this busy again? 

He accepted the call and gently laid a hand on Ruoye’s back for emotional support.

“This is Royal Florals. You’re currently speaking to Xie Lian, how can I help you?” He tried his best to conceal the tiredness in his voice. 

“I apologize for the late call. I understand you’re almost closing,” a familiar cold voice sounded from the speaker. “This is He Xuan.” 

“It’s no trouble at all!” Pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he indulged Ruoye in a few more pets before he pulled away. The poor cat meowed in protest as Xie Lian hobbled to the mop and continued cleaning up. “Today was more hectic than usual, but I always have time for loyal customers.” 

“Hectic you say?” 

“Mn! The shop’s been getting nonstop calls since about—” he paused to do some mental math. “Five-ish hours ago?” 

“I see.” 

“But that’s neither here nor there! Is there something wrong with the arrangements?” He wrung out the mop before continuing. “You were only here a few days ago, so they should be good for about another week.” 

“It’s nothing like that.” A long-suffering sigh sounded from the other end of the line. “My boss has me doing some inane task that’ll keep me at my desk for that entire week and I can’t avoid it.” 

“It sounds like your boss has no shortage of work for you,” the florist said with an easy laugh. 

He Xuan grumbled something under his breath to the tune of, “You have no fuckin’ idea,” Xie Lian was sure the prim and proper man wouldn’t use such vulgar language; he must’ve misheard him. Regardless of what was actually said, the slip in his usually dispassionate demeanor was still audible. “I’m calling ahead of time to ask if you offered delivery services.”

“Ah, well…” the florist found himself eyeing the formidable stack of invoices with apprehension as he swept. Unless  Mu Qing or Feng Xin stopped by to help during the busy season, it was only him running the shop, so there was no staff to spare for deliveries. “You need this next order by next week, correct?”

“Correct.” 

Well, those two owed him a few favors anyway. 

“It’ll get to you by then,” he beamed. His mouth opened to exchange the usual pleasantries of “thank you for calling,” and “have a good day,” when it occurred to him that, despite the numerous times He Xuan had stopped by to pick up arrangements, Xie Lian had no idea where he worked. “Before I let you go, where is this order going to?” 

“Crimson Elysium Studio.” The name sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps he had passed by it on a walk around the city? “Do you need the address?”

“Please, if you don’t mind.” 

Once He Xuan had given him the address and additional details of how to get there (“It’s a little out of the way, but if you make a left here you’ll end up right at the front door.”), both men bid their goodbyes and ended the call, leaving Xie Lian to limp through the rest of his closing duties before his working day could officially draw to an end. 

“Ruoye, come!” 

“Mrrp!” With a soft trill—or was it a chirp?—Ruoye jumped down from his windowsill and came to the florist before rubbing against his pant leg. Once the harness was slipped on and his messenger bag was slung over his shoulder, he wrapped a white scarf around his neck—the temperature was dropping, after all. Both man and cat made their way out of the shop to go home. 

Thanks to Xie Lian’s ankle, the walk was slow but uneventful. Ruoye had taken to sniffing at the ground from time to time, much to his dismay (“Don’t stick your nose there, it’s dirty!”), but there were no other delays in getting home. 

Upon entering the apartment building, Xie Lian gave the man at the front desk a wave as he always did. He didn’t look up from his computer and waved him up with a noncommittal grunt—as he always did. It was a rather quiet complex, given that the only sounds on the first floor were the clacking of a keyboard and Ruoye purring as they walked to the elevator. That wasn’t to say the stillness was bothersome; it was a welcome deviation from the cacophony of the city outside. 

He reached out to press the button to go up only to be stopped short by the receptionist calling out.

“Elevator’s out of service.” Xie Lian’s heart sank. Almost as if on cue, he was hit by the soreness that came with running around all day. Fatigue washed over him in a dull wave, sharpened only by the pain in his ankle. 

“Ah, that’s a shame,” he said as he turned and did his best to muster a smile at the receptionist. “Third time this month, no?” He laughed lightly. “Is there a way I could file a work order with maintenance?”

Clack clack clack.

With no answer, he bit the inside of his cheek and began the five-story trek up the stairs—Ruoye followed close by his side. This was nothing. Going from the first floor to the second is just one flight of stairs. He only needed to do that thrice, along with a bonus floor. No big deal. He repeated this mantra to himself with every step he climbed to drown out his body’s screaming complaints. 

By the time he reached the door of his and Mu Qing’s shared apartment, Ruoye was a solid five paces ahead of him. It looked as if Ruoye was leading Xie Lian up the stairs rather than the other way around. After five flights, his pained limp was reduced to little more than a pitiful stagger as he fumbled for the right key. 

As they clinked against each other, he heard lowered voices coming from the other side of the door. One sounded as if it was two seconds from simmering over with cold rage—Mu Qing, probably—while the other was calm and unperturbed. He couldn’t place who the second speaker was. Maybe his roommate had a guest over. One of his friends from the hotel he worked at?

After some fumbling with the lock, Xie Lian finally eased the door open. 

“Mu Qing, I’m back!” he declared as he shrugged off his dirtied cardigan and gingerly kicked off his shoes. “I’m sorry I’m so late, I got caught up with work for a bit there.” Adopting a self-deprecating smile, he turned to close the door and unwrapped his scarf. 

“Who’s our guest? Feng Xin said he wouldn’t be here for another,” he checked his phone for the time, “thirty minutes or so?” The florist busied himself, slipping Ruoye’s harness off as he waited for a reply. 

As Ruoye made a beeline to his room to lounge on the cat tree (one of the few purchases Xie Lian didn’t thrift, but it was money well-spent), he finally let himself relax. He congratulated himself on a long, but fruitful, day of work. It was the weekend. The shop was closed tomorrow, so tonight he was free to do as he wished before embarking on a day full of errands. He could practically taste the dinner he, Mu Qing, and Feng Xin were going to share tonight. 

Xie Lian gingerly followed Ruoye to his room to change out of his clothes and give him his dinner. There were still a few damp spots on his back. Gross.

“Have a seat, Xie Lian.” He stopped short. Oh, he did know that voice. The familiarity of it made his blood run cold. Xie Lian’s smile solidified into stiff stone rather than a contraction of muscle, legs feeling wooden as he froze in place. Back ramrod-straight, he turned to make his way toward the living room. 

It wasn’t an extravagant space by any means. There was enough room for a three-seater sofa, an entertainment system, an upholstered chair Xie Lian had thrifted, and a coffee table in the center of it all. He saw the back of Mu Qing’s head in the middle of the three-seater. 

Jun Wu sat in the chair. 

Xie Lian’s teeth gritted with the effort of trying not to wince as he walked, favoring his right leg all the while. 

“Good evening, Jun Wu,” he supplied. His tongue gracelessly fumbled around the words as he took a seat next to his roommate on the end of the couch farthest from Jun Wu. “To what do we owe the visit?” 

“He decided to surprise us,” Mu Qing said. Thinly veiled disdain dripped from his voice. “Usually, it’s required of landlords to give a 24-hour notice, but we’re blessed with someone who operates outside of tradition.” Xie Lian elbowed him in the side. 

“This isn’t an inspection,” Jun Wu smoothly replied. If he took offense to Mu Qing’s gripe or noticed Xie Lian trying to quiet his roommate, nothing on his face gave it away. “I was just discussing some policy changes in the building over a drink. As your landlord, it’s important to take the opinions of my tenants into account.” 

Xie Lian looked over at the coffee table and sure enough, there were two cups of tea with the steam long gone. The one on Mu Qing’s side was untouched, while the one on Jun Wu’s was nearly empty. There was a third cup, flipped over and most likely reserved for Xie Lian upon coming home. “Care to join us? It’s been quite a while since we last talked.” 

“Here, let me.” Xie Lian lifted the teapot and filled Jun Wu’s cup a little over halfway. The pot was still full; its weight and the faint aroma of camellia and red dates helped ground him, but neither offered anything beyond mild comfort. 

Mu Qing bristled. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“Thank you. You’re a wonderful host as always.” Jun Wu offered him an upturn of the lips and poured Xie Lian’s tea in turn. After a beat, the older man took his cup with one hand and finished half of it in one go.

“Of course,” the florist replied as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He felt like an intruder despite being the one that lived here. 

As he lifted his cup with both hands and sipped at his tea, the skin around his throat suddenly felt too tight, but he tried to swallow around the discomfort before setting his cup back down. “What new policy changes were being discussed?” he asked, feeling Mu Qing tense beside him. 

The tension in the room wasn’t something that hung in the air, thick enough to cut. No, it held a solid undercurrent of disquiet beneath their feet. Xie Lian dared not breathe too hard or make sudden movements, in case it became the tipping point to make this mindfield of a conversation erupt into little more than violence and ugly words slung at each other.

“Well,” Jun Wu started as he uncrossed and recrossed his legs. The only creases in his cream-colored, tailored slacks were the sharply ironed lines that ran down each leg. It was easy to tell that his pants were tailored because of how the hems fell right above smartly shined Oxford shoes. Hardly a strand of hair was out of place and his hands were folded neatly in his lap, which only added to the meticulously crafted image of perfection he always embodied. 

Xie Lian felt almost offensively under-dressed in his ratty crewneck and thrifted jeans. It didn’t seem like Jun Wu minded. His features were serene, friendly even. 

“Given the recent developments in the area, I found it prudent to present the idea of raising rent. I’m planning on renovating the building and other complexes, and that requires all members of our community to contribute accordingly.” He leaned closer to reach for his cup, and Xie Lian resisted the urge to veer away. 

“What do you think, Xie Lian?” Jun Wu asked before finishing off the last of his tea. Obsidian-black eyes never once left the florist’s face as he drained the cup of its contents. Feng Xin had described them once as shark eyes with a distasteful expression on his face the first time he had the displeasure of meeting him (“They’re devoid of life and suck up all the goddamn light in a room, and that’s before he even opens his mouth. I don’t understand how you two can even stand being near that asshole”). 

As he opened his mouth to speak, he found his mouth had dried up. 

“Ah, well…” He cleared his throat and swiftly took a sip of tea to wet it. “I think that if changes are made to increase a property’s quality of living, then a proportional raise in its monetary value would be reasonable.” 

Xie Lian kept a pleasant smile on his face and schooled his expression into one of gentle passivity and calm, but he was desperately scrambling for words that matched the professional airs his landlord adopted. Anything that would compensate for how bedraggled he looked in comparison to him. 

“Emphasis on ‘proportional,’” Mu Qing said to Jun Wu before turning to his roommate. “Prettying up the first floor and throwing up some facades on the building doesn’t justify—” 

“Feng Xin is going to be here in a bit,” Xie Lian cut in. He tried to keep his voice as light as possible despite the feeling of his stomach being weighed down by rocks. “Why don’t you get started on dinner, Mu Qing?” 

The look on his roommate’s face was incredulous. “I’m not leaving you alone with—”

“Please?” 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Mu Qing excused himself to begin cooking. Xie Lian could faintly hear the rustling of his apron being removed from its hook, soon followed by grumbled curses and complaints from the kitchen. He prayed to whatever gods were out there that his landlord couldn’t discern what was being said over the clanging of pots and pans being fetched from their cupboards. 

Jun Wu nodded his head and continued as if their exchange didn’t happen. “The property value of the area as a whole is rising, and I need to match market rates. I wouldn’t normally discuss these matters with tenants, but your parents understood business, and I’m sure you do as well.” 

“Of course.” Xie Lian tried to ignore the rush of ice-cold water running down his spine at the mention of his parents. 

“How is it, by the way?” 

“Pardon?”

Jun Wu nodded at Xie Lian while gesturing at his own throat. “You seem to be healing up well.” He leaned closer to examine Xie Lian’s neck. “The color hasn’t fully gone back to normal yet. A shame.” 

“Ah, thank you.” He leaned back with a good-natured laugh and scratched the back of his head before subconsciously tracing over the raised line that marred otherwise smooth skin. 

“Terribly sorry.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“And your flower shop? How is it?” Jun Wu uncrossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. It seemed he took on a more casual air now that Mu Qing wasn’t in the room.

Xie Lian knew he didn’t owe the man information. He knew it was better not to divulge any details of his affairs, professional or otherwise. But he had known him since the beginning of his adult life and depended on him heavily after the death of his parents. They had been close. As a matter of fact, it was only recently that the mention of him poured dread into the base of his spine. So, he poured another cup of tea and indulged Jun Wu in small talk until the conversation eventually wound back to what he was here to discuss in the first place.

“How much would the rent be raised by?” Xie Lian asked as he took a small sip of his tea. It had gone cold.

“20 percent.” 

He choked. There was no way he could afford that.

“Ah…”  

“But if that’s disagreeable with you, I’d be more than happy to grant a credit for the first six months of your lease upon renewal. It would cover the rent increase for the first half of next year; I just need a favor.” 

Ju Wu leaned closer as if to confide in a secret. 

“I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m inundated with odds and ends that need to be wrapped up by the end of the year. My office also needs renovations to remain up to date with the changes to be put in place, which just means more paperwork. If I had someone around to assist me, it would be immensely helpful.” 

Xie Lian was unsure where he was going with this but nodded to let him continue. He vaguely registered that the kitchen was dead silent.

“You would bring a… A youthful energy to the atmosphere that I think is desperately needed. What do you think?” 

“Ah, well—”

Tak! Tak! Tak!  Xie Lian dared to breathe out a sigh of relief. Feng Xin had arrived, thank god. 

“Well, I see you’re expecting a guest,” Jun Wu said as he stood up. Even after who-knows-how-long of sitting, there was still nary a wrinkle in the fabric of his clothing. “I won’t trouble you any further.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll walk you out,” the florist said as he followed him to the door and pointedly disregarded the protesting pangs of his ankle. He silently thanked whatever deities were out there for Feng Xin’s impeccable timing and opened the door to see his friend scrolling through his phone. 

He looked fresh from a post-work shower. His hair wasn’t up as it usually was, and the damp strands left some water droplets on his shirt. 

“You would not believe the fuckin’ day I had at work, Xie Lian,” he groused with a smile that was too sharp to be considered jovial as he put his phone away. “It’s gonna be one hell of a newsletter tonight, I’ll tell you that,” he snorted and looked up, catching sight of who he was escorting out the door. The sardonic smile on his face morphed into a look of shock. 

“Hey, why the hell is he—” 

“I’m just walking Jun Wu out, you can go in ahead of me.” Xie Lian’s voice jumped up a semitone or five as he rushed Feng Xin inside. “I’ll be right there!”

Once he had been unceremoniously shoved inside and the door was shut, Xie Lian turned toward Jun Wu with his mouth open to bid him farewell (and maybe apologize for Feng Xin’s crass behavior). 

“Thank you for stopping by—” he was stopped short by Jun Wu seizing his hands. They were warm, too warm; it felt like burning hot coals on his skin—though that was surely due to Xie Lian’s surprise. He wanted to jerk back but found that, despite Jun Wu’s calm demeanor, his hold was anything but gentle.

“Do think about my offer.” His mild tone contrasted with the ironclad grip he had on Xie Lian’s hands. “I understand you run a business, so this would be after hours,  naturally.”

Unable to meet Jun Wu’s eyes in such close proximity, he kept his gaze trained on where their hands met and hoped that the marks from fingers digging into his skin would fade within the next hour or so. He felt rather than saw the older man’s eyes burning a hole in his skull as the seconds passed. 

“Haha… Jun Wu, it kinda hurts,” Xie Lian said, trying to laugh it off. He still didn’t raise his head to meet his gaze.

“...”

One minute stretched into an eternity before he was released.

“You know where to contact me.” 

Jun Wu turned on his heel and walked down the hall before Xie Lian could so much as get a word in. Soon, the only indication that he was even there in the first place was the sharp clicks of his shoes hitting vinyl-lined stairs and the white imprints on his hands that quickly faded and turned red as blood rushed back. 

Xie Lian limped—honestly, it was kind to even call it that—back into the apartment and shut the door behind him before slumping against it with a shaky breath. He gritted his teeth and massaged his temples. With nowhere for the built-up tension in his body to go, his entire being felt like a live wire. God, why were his knees unsteady? It wasn’t like he was hurt. 

Jun Wu wasn’t incorrect in saying that it had been a while since they last spoke; the florist had been actively avoiding him for a little over seven months at this point. Here he was, thinking that get away with it until the end of the year. 

Silly him. 

His ankle pulsed with pain once more, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the memory of when it was first broken, or if he had pushed himself past his limit today. Either way, it really did need to be iced, and probably wrapped. Where did Mu Qing keep the bandages again…? Maybe he could try and pilfer through their cabinets without him noticing. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

His eyes snapped open to see Feng Xin staring him down with his brows furrowed in confusion. Well, Xie Lian knew it to be confusion. To anyone else, the personal trainer had three different facial expressions: mildly pissed, thoroughly pissed, and furious. The one he currently had on his face fell somewhere between the last two. 

“Ahaha… which part?” He mentally lined up several excuses to explain Jun Wu’s presence in their apartment but was grabbed by the shoulders as his friend shook him back and forth. 

“Don’t ‘ahaha’ me, I’m talking about the part where your shit-ass landlord decided to drop by and grabbed at you before he left!”

Xie Lian shushed him and did his best to hold up a hand in a show of surrender. “The walls are thin, Feng Xin!” The last thing they needed right now was a noise complaint from their neighbors.

“What’s our resident mendicant so upset about?” Mu Qing called from the kitchen, not bothering to poke his head into the living room. 

The sounds of food sizzling on the pan made Xie Lian’s stomach growl. Feng Xin released him and headed to the kitchen to assist with dinner. Now that attention was diverted away from him, Xie Lian took the opportunity to hobble toward the kitchen island.  

“The landlord was holding hands with Xie Lian!” Feng Xin exclaimed as he handed Mu Qing various seasonings to throw into the pan. 

“You’re making it sound a lot weirder than it actually was.” Xie Lian laughed and took a seat. 

“It’s not just ‘weird.’” Feng Xin turned and pointed an accusing finger in his direction. “I saw you two through the peephole. It was weird as hell and you were uncomfortable.” 

“I’m starving, and it’s been a long day. We could talk about it after dinner. Do you two need any help?” 

“No.” Mu Qing immediately shut down the idea. Xie Lian deflated and leaned on one hand with an elbow propped up against the counter, much to Feng Xin’s amusement. 

He nudged at Mu Qing with his hip. “The reason why he’s so bad at cooking is ‘cus you never let him try.” 

“No, it’s because all the dexterity he has is reserved for tending to plants,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the cutting board as he prepared vegetables for another dish. “His cooking tastes like…” he paused in his actions to think. “A bad omen.”

Feng Xing whistled lowly. “Okay, harsh. Let him chop some veggies to help you out then.” he looked over Mu Qing’s shoulder as he worked. “Maybe he can learn through observation. You’re a professional chef, aren’t you? I thought experts were supposed to be good teachers.”

“He’s past saving.” His eyes flicked over to where Xie Lian was sitting. “No offense.”

“None taken.” There was a time when Xie Lian was an earnest student and begged Mu Qing to teach him some basic skills in the kitchen (“You always do the cooking and I feel awful making you take work home! Please, I want to feel like I’m pulling my own weight around here”), but he had managed to simultaneously burn and undercook the vegetables Mu Qing had laid out for him to stir-fry. 

In the most cordial way he could manage, he told him that he was a “culinary calamity” and should never be allowed within three feet of a stove that day.  

Dinner—a hearty hot pot to combat the chill outside—passed by quickly with Feng Xin delivering his work “newsletter” as promised (“I don’t know what the hell he was on when he said the program I made for him was full of shit, but that’s someone else’s problem now, thank god”). While his increasingly animated gestures and irreverent asides managed to coax a snort out of Mu Qing from time to time, Xie Lian found paying attention difficult.

He nodded at all the right parts and made noises of affirmation to show that he was indeed listening to Feng Xin’s story of how a belligerent client of his was angry enough to throw weights around and almost crush his toes, but his mind was still stuck on Jun Wu’s earlier visit. 

By the time his story concluded, the pot was empty. 

“I can take the dishes.” Xie Lian made to grab at the dirty bowls. “Thank you for the food, Mu Qing.” 

“Of course. I don’t mind cooking if it means we can avoid food poisoning and boiled chicken,” he replied, glancing pointedly at Feng Xin.

“Why does it feel like I’m also being targeted?”

Mu Qing turned to the target in question with a peevish smile. “Because I’m not sure if you’re aware that food doesn’t have to taste like drywall for it to be healthy. I’ve seen those sad excuses of a meal you post online, you meathead.”

“Those ‘sad excuses’ happen to be helpful to my clients!” Feng Xin’s tone was indignant, making Xie Lian huff out a laugh as he gathered up the remnants of their meal.

“Oh, that’s what you call it? I pray for their taste buds,” Mu Qing snarkily replied and rolled his eyes before he caught sight of the state of Xie Lian’s hands right as he was about to pick up the small pile of dishware. “What happened?”  

Xie Lian froze and set the bowls down. “Hm? Oh, these. I fell at work today. I’ve got two more on my elbows if you wanna see.” 

He had barely begun folding up his sleeves when Mu Qing grasped one of his wrists and rotated it so that the back of his hand was visible. The florist winced upon seeing that the red oblong marks still hadn’t gone away; there were sure to be bruises by tomorrow. His fingers grazed the marks to check for swelling before he lined them up with the red splotches in an imitation of how Jun Wu squeezed them. 

“Christ…” Feng Xin breathed as he realized the extent of the injury.

“He did this?” Mu Qing spoke quietly and his face gave no sign of emotion, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of rage roiling beneath the surface. It was clear who “he” was.

“Ah,” Xie Lian began as he yanked his hands back and splayed out all ten fingers, palms facing his friends to show that, really, there was no harm done. “I didn’t even notice them,” he lied. “You know I tend to bruise easily.” He shoved them into his pockets.

“He wouldn’t let you pull away,” Feng Xin argued. “I saw you try.”

“Staring at people through the peephole is creepy, you know,” he laughed hollowly as he tried to change the subject, only to be met with two unamused faces. “He probably meant nothing by it.” 

“Right…” Feng Xin drawled out before getting up. “I’ll get the dishes, then. You sit down.” 

“But—”

“Siddown.” 

Defeated, Xie Lian slumped back down in his chair while Feng Xin washed the dishes and Mu Qing grabbed the first aid kit from one of the cabinets. It was kept in the kitchen because—as Mu Qing has mentioned on more than one occasion—the chances of the florist wandering into the kitchen against his better judgment and finding a way to set fire to himself were nonzero, so protective measures were necessary.

“Bring it here.” White box in hand, he gestured vaguely at the stool. As Xie Lian obediently raised his leg, Mu Qing sat down and carefully propped it up on his lap to examine it. 

“I fell and twisted it at work,” Xie Lian gave a rueful chuckle that quickly turned into a hiss of pain when Mu Qing gently prodded at the swollen area, receiving a glare as he flinched away. 

“Why is it like this from just a fall?” His tone was skeptical.

“The elevator was out of order,” he uselessly supplied. “This one is actually on me, I promise.”

“Tell me you took a taxi home.” 

“Ah well…” his eyes flicked over to Feng Xin's back as if it could offer any assistance (it did not). 

“Christ, Xie Lian. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Mu Qing pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation and grabbed a roll of bandages as well as a vial of medicated oil from the first aid kit. He didn’t wait for a response as he started carefully wrapping the injury after dabbing some oil on it. His fingers were deft and gentle as he started at the ball of his foot, winding the bandage in figure eights until it passed and reached his ankle.  

“You were busy cooking.” 

“I wasn’t,” Fenx Xin called over his shoulder as he placed a freshly washed bowl on the drying rack and got started on the next. “I just like playing sous chef and getting in his way when he’s trying to work.”

“I’m slipping arsenic in your food next time,” Mu Qing murmured, his brows furrowed in concentration as he snipped the bandage and smoothed it down. 

“And this is probably just a flare-up from an old injury. It’s not like it needed immediate attention.”

“A broken ankle from less than a year ago is not an old injury by any stretch of the imagination. You need to actually pay attention to your health so I don’t need to keep worrying about it.” His words lacked any bite to them as he focused on making sure the bandage was properly secure. He set Xie Lian’s foot down and held out his hand expectantly. 

“Oh, I can do it myself. You don’t need to—”

“Give me your hands.” 

Properly chagrined, Xie Lian complied and let him apply oil on the forming bruises in small, circular motions. “Thank you, Mu Qing.”

“For what.”

“Caring for me. You don’t have to.” 

He rolled his eyes and tossed the vial of oil back into the first aid kit, turning his back to put it away. “You can thank me by trying it out for yourself.” Xie Lian could faintly make out the tips of his ears turning red.

The image of his roommate tending to his injuries so attentively sparked memories of when his ankle was broken earlier that year—along with a litany of injuries that needed aftercare after his stay at the hospital. They had a conversation almost identical to this one, and he had promised that he’d take better care of himself. The nostalgia of it all made him smile in spite of the scolding.

“So what was that he was saying before he left, by the way?” Feng Xin asked as he patted his hands dry. 

“Ah, well…” Xie Lian bit the inside of his cheek in thought before explaining his and Mu Qing’s current circumstances—with the latter jumping in to mention how ridiculous the exorbitant increase in rent was—and took care to omit the other details that would make Feng Xin worry.  

“You’ve forgotten the part where he wanted a glorified secretary without the hassle of paying for one as if you actually have time for that,” Mu Qing snarked as he returned to his seat. 

“You heard that…?”

“Heard what?” Feng Xin looked between the two of them.

“Well, he said I could help him out after hours whenever I had time.” As he filled him in, he noticed Mu Qing go rigid next to him. His face had become unreadable. “He was nice enough to take my schedule into account, and—” 

“That motherfucker!” Feng Xin sprang to his feet.

“...?!”

“He wants favors from you after business hours as an alternative to fully paying the rent he decided to raise.”

“Right, but it’s only because he knows I’m busy with other things during the day,” Xie Lian said, already knowing where he was going with this. “I already said that.”

“For fuck’s sake, he grabbed you on his way out. That’s not normal behavior!” Feng Xin jabbed the countertop repeatedly with a finger to drive his point home.

“He’s trying to extort you,” Mu Qing followed. “Because clearly, dodging charges of vehicular assault at the beginning of the year wasn’t enough for him.” 

“Wha—No. Okay, listen. My ankle—even from back then—was my own fault. It’s nothing.” Xie Lian quickly waved off the idea and any accompanying memories that came with it. “You both are jumping to conclusions; letting me and Mu Qing rent here in the first place was already a big help on his part. There’s no way he would do something like… like that.” He turned to Mu Qing, expecting that he would agree with him. 

“Sure. You’re avoiding him because of nothing then,” Feng Xin sassed as his roommate eyed him critically. “Forget about your ankle and,” his eyes flitted to Xie Lian’s neck, “whatever the fuck happened seven months ago. Are the bruises on your hands also ‘nothing’?”

“Ah…” Xie Lian’s mouth dried up. 

“You’re not seriously considering it, are you?” Mu Qing’s tone was flat. 

“It will be really hard to keep the apartment if I don’t…”

Feng Xin slammed his hand on the counter. “Forget that, find a new place! You don’t need some jackass constantly harassing you just because he can.”

“He did us a favor by letting us stay here. I don’t want him to feel that we’re spitting in his face when he’s been kind enough to help us.”

“I wouldn’t call giving us a lease and taking our money a favor, Xie Lian,” Mu Qing cut in. 

He opened his mouth in protest. “But—”

“Fuck his feelings, and fuck his ‘help.’ I’d spit in his face and piss in his breakfast too if he tried to pull that on me. Who the hell does he think he is?!” Feng Xin demanded, throwing his arms up in disbelief.

“A god, probably,” Mu Qing scoffed.

“He’d be a shit one.”

“You almost sound like my cousin,” Xie Lian said as he balked at Feng Xin’s vulgarity. It was rare to see him this incensed, and it seemed that crass words had a tendency to boil over whenever it got to this point.

“Ouch.” The offense of being compared to Qi Rong was enough to interrupt his tirade. 

“I’m sorry.” Xie Lian massaged his temples and shut his eyes. “I don’t want to fight. It’s been a long week, and I’d rather we actually spend time for ourselves instead of spending time worrying about things like rent and work.”

“We’re not fighting,” Mu Qing said, meaningfully glancing over at Feng Xin. 

Feng Xin crossed his arms. “Of course not. I’m worried about your piece-of-shit landlord trying to—”

“But you’re right. It’s been a long week,” he continued as got up to go to the living room. “It’s going to be an even longer night for our leech over here while he gets destroyed in Smash.” 

“Your what?!” Feng Xin called out as he leaped up and ran after Mu Qing. “You’re not getting away with that, you bastard.”

“Last I checked, winning 3-0 last time means I already did.”

While the two bickered, Xie Lian stepped down from his chair and gingerly put weight on his right foot. His ankle still ached, but the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it was an hour prior. Mu Qing did an incredible job taking care of him, as always. How much longer was he going to have to clean up Xie Lian like this before he got sick of it? Surely he must have reached that point by now—

“Xie Lian!” He whipped his head to see Feng Xin looking at him expectantly from the couch with a third controller in hand. “You ready to lose, or what?” 

He banished all thoughts of injuries and landlords from his mind and smiled as he walked over and took the controller. “I got some practice in with Mu Qing earlier this week. Maybe today’s my lucky day.” 

“As the one he was quote-unquote ‘practicing’ with, I can assure you that it’s not,” Mu Qing said as he took a seat next to Feng Xin. 

“I improved a little bit!” he protested. 

“You jumped off the platform three times.” 

<<Beginning <Previous Next>

A/N: It has been FOREVER good lord, is everyone still here ? :') so sorry to have neglected this fic. I don't have a life-changing canon event to share like all the other Ao3 writers do, I've just been working and studying a lot. But I'm back now ! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Things will pick up, I promise :D

[space-station-nursery]

❄️⸝⸝ Welcome to Babi and bubby nursery!! ⸝⸝ 🌨️

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Babi's Name, age, pronouns┊・𓂃 Hi! im Finnegan, but prefer to go by Finn. Im 20 (21 on Jan 18th) and my pronouns are They/Them! Babi's timezone┊・𓂃 CST! (or central standard time) Bubby's Name, age, pronouns┊・𓂃 Hi im FD, im 21 and my pronouns are He/Him Bubby's timezone┊・𓂃 MST (or mountain standard time) Boundaries┊・𓂃 Please don't ask either of us to be your Little/cg, we are engaged and are not looking for romantic or platonic littles/cgs. Dms are open for anyone +16 or -26 (i had a bad past with older individuals on tumblr). Listen when we say "No!". If you would like to be moots/friends, please at least interact with our posts, its incredibly uncomfortable to have random txts from people asking to be friends that just followed 3 minutes before.

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About Babi┊・𓂃 I am a flip leaning regressor, and regress to about age 0-4. I am a sleepy, but bubby when regressed! Sometimes i go nonverbal, but i use a pacifier almost all the time. There is a ton of trauma surrounding my regression and it was very hard to regress. Now, with the help of bubby there is hope! I can only regress for small periods of time, and it needs to be assisted but its a great start and i hope that when we live together it'll boost my regression more! About Bubby┊・𓂃 I am Finns CG, and I love my babi bear! I do everything I can to make sure they feel safe and comfy here when regressing, as well as when they aren't Views on sitters┊・𓂃 We do not see sitters as something either of us would want to be apart of unless it was us sitting for/being sat by someone we know very well. My current sitter is @sleeplessjunkie Who generally just regresses with me when bubby is gone while we play games !!!! We will either talk a lot or not at all, and thats ok bc talk is hard! (we're also both autistic)

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What is a DNI? These are "Do not interact" boundaries, this means that if your blog meets any of these criteria you may be blocked\banned\removed from a persons socials. Below are my DNI's so make sure to read them!

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Babi likes┊・𓂃 Bubby, jay, baking and cooking, playing games, reading (by myself and with bubby) making decor stuff and making custom things! Blues clues !!! if you see a blues clues ask from an anon, its probably me. Babi dislikes┊・𓂃 Bugs, bugsbugsbugs. Being confronted(confrontation), purposely being misgendered, having my boundaries disrespected, bubby or jay being purposely misgendered, uh-…. i think thats it lol Bubby likes┊・𓂃 BABI BEAR, our friends, gaming, cars, anything that has moving parts, reading and watching crime stuff, watching movies and playing games with babi and our friends, and really love the flash as well! Bubby dislikes┊・𓂃 I dont like icky people coming to talk to babi and i (i dont really like talking to people in general), People misgendering babi or my friends or being rude towards them, and i dont like when people disrespect my boundaries I also dont like the idea of sitters because so many people in the community that we have encountered have bad intentions, but there's nothing else i can think of rn

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✩⸜⸜ Mood/Stimboards ✩⸜⸜ Text post (tips, links, etc) hosted by babi or bubby! ✩⸜⸜ Wear or tear! (W.O.T) ✩⸜⸜ Worksheets ✩⸜⸜ Journal // QOTD hosted by bubby ! ✩⸜⸜ Pos quotes/affirmations

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[bikwin5]

more pikmin 4 thoughts

previously i made another post when the trailer in february dropped and finally now we have another major release of information about pikmin. i have a lot to say about a game releasing a month away

Plot details- so first off one thing i was right about is that the main focus of the game is collecting castaways in caves. it doesn't seem that all of them are in caves but i would assume most are. i thought treasures would be like pikmin 3 where they extend your time limit but it seems that collecting enough of them unlocks new areas. when i first heard that they "fix the spaceship's radar" i thought that was weird until i saw the new screenshots on the nintendo page store:

do you see that very carefully in the botton left? that's SPARKLIUM!!!!! HEY! PIKMIN IS CANON!!!!!! FUUUUUUUCK YES!!!!!!!!!!! ok maybe not canon but it's funny they took that mechanic from the 3DS game of all things. now i just need metroid prime 4 to include the mechs from federation force and my dream will be complete.

Gameplay- there are more plot details to get into later but i want to talk about the screenshot above for now. we finally get a proper look at the UI where pretty much everything has been overhauled. first of all nintendo still has an obsession with that font they've been using since miitomo. second the day timer is now totally overhauled to be in the top left instead of stretching along the top. this is a surprising change but i suppose they wanted less UI obstruction due to the new camera angle. there's also no day counter, suggesting you have unlimited days. then there's the pikmin stuff, health bars, and brand new is an objective window and sparklium/gem count. i noticed the latter two things aren't in some gameplay screens and there might be an option to turn it off.

looking at the health bars it seems the dog pretty much does act as a second leader in this one. oatchi has its own health, can be controlled, and i think it can do pretty much any action a leader can, plus more. there's even a screenshot of him throwing pikmin:

and as seen in the trailer you can level up the dog using "pup drive"??? seems to be some kind of points you unlock somehow. anyway the fact that oatchi can do all this while the main character doesn't makes me wonder what the advantage of not being oatchi is. is this a scooby-doo mystery mayhem situation where scooby is objectively better than shaggy because he can fit into tight spaces and shaggy can't? sorry if that's not the most relatable comparison but it does include a dog and a human.

another upgradable feature is various suit upgrades such as the rush boots, scorch guard and all the other stuff you could get in pikmin 2 and 3. it seems those blue gems on the ground are "resources" you can collect and use to get these upgrades. i think this is a pretty neat way of doing it!!! instead of tying it to treasures this makes these upgrades most likely optional and you can obtain them at your own pace instead of the awkward way 3 did it. you could even forgo certain upgrades as a challenge or because the rush boots are so annoying i dont like the pikmin 2 rush boots they just make all the pikmin slow.

The Pikmin- i wrote several paragraphs about pikmin without mentioning pikmin. from what it seems all 8 types of pikmin are available in the story mode which is neat! we got to see a little bit of purple, rock, wing and white near the end of the trailer, and there are night time exclusive pikmin too. i'm flipping between the trailer and the website info a lot so bear with me, but there's a pretty significant bit of information on the site that wasn't touched upon:

that last sentence suddenly makes a lot of sense with what we've seen, like how blue pikmin were never seen alongside ice pikmin. it makes sense that there's enough overlap with different pikmin abilities and oatchi abilities that they would do this. but i fear having only 3 types at once has the potential to make the game more tedious but it really depends on how changing types works. is it from the onion? the ship? can you do it in the middle of a cave? it raises a lot of questions but it could add another layer of strategy to the game because now we have more of a party building factor. purple pikmin might not be as OP as they were when they take up one of your 3 precious types.

small addendum to this, the site also has a "meet the pikmin" segment in a weirdly arbitrary order-- it goes red, blue, yellow, ice, glow, purple, rock, winged, and finally white. is this the order you actually get to see them in game? blue pikmin might finally no longer be the last type you get, and white pikmin being so late might explain their small presence in the trailer. let's hope they don't end up like blues in 3's story mode.

The Caves- i really wanted to see more of these and we got them. i didn't say this in my last post but after watching the previous trailer 10 more times i saw there were these blue lids scattered around that i thought were cave holes, and i was right. and i really like the look of what we saw so far, especially the floor based off of pikmin 3's clockwork chasm and this aquarium:

i don't even have anything to talk about with the screenshot i just love how it looks. it looks like they aren't procedurally generated this time, but then again it might be because if there's anything that's gotten better in the past decade of gaming it's making procedurally generated stuff actually fun to play. i was also wrong about them not having treasures because they definitely do. i get the feeling caves won't take up as much time overall as they did in pikmin 2 but they still seem really expansive and fun.

Night missions- I was very wrong about these. I thought you would play as the rescue corps and have to fend off the big spaceship for the night but it turns out it's just you who goes elsewhere to do... something. i'm not entirely sold on these because the narrator never exactly explains what the purpose of them is. it seems you can choose to go to them from the landing site, which appears to be a hub area with no time limit, i forgot to mention that but that's neat. but aside from having a new pikmin type that does spirit bombs all they mentioned was that you get "valuable glowsap" which is... something??? i can't imagine it's only for extra sparklium, maybe it can be exchanged for special upgrades or whatever. it wasn't really clear whether night missions are even required. regardless the gameplay of turning pikmin into a base defense thing seems pretty cool.

This fucking guy-

i gotta be honest this probably blindsided me the most out of anything-- this and the fact he's the introduction to 2 player battle mode, which seems to imply you can play it against a CPU now? i think it's funny that pikmin is still keeping the tradition of having a tacked on multiplayer mode where you beat each other to death with regular gameplay mechanics. anyway this guy could either be olimar, who died and became a hairy man, OR this guy is just a joker's trick and the real olimar is out there somewhere. the latter seems more likely from nintendo but if they really did want to canonize the bad ending of pikmin 1 than that's kind of wild. it's like making a game where the silent hill 2 alien ending happened.

people are suggesting "split timeline" and i scoffed at the notion at first but then i remembered the short trailer we got earlier this month. it treats olimar crash landing as if it were his first time there, and the rescue corps as the second time anyone has crashed. plus some info on the japanese site suggested olimar had been there for a month and the rescue corps received his distress signal. funny enough, pikmin 1's interstellar radio mentions that it's emitting a constant SOS signal but it would take longer than a month for help to arrive. so i think maybe it's likely his dead ass became a pikmin now???? but they also treat rescuing olimar as the main goal of the game so that makes me wonder what the climax of the story would be if he's unsalvageable. maybe it's about turning him back into a guy, idk.

Misc stuff- There's a handful of other things on the site that were only glanced over a bit. for instance:

it seems there's an ability to rewind not just days but time as well? this feels like their equivalent of a "super guide" option. honestly i hope this means they're not afraid to make a pikmin game that's just flat out mean again.

and on the right side it seems there are multiple landing sites per area. it mentions "each of the expansive areas" so i don't think pikmin 4 is one fully open map but having multiple landing sites is neat. i guess it makes sense because the maps look huge and there are only 2 guys to play as this time.

the site also has confirmation of challenge mode, 2-player battle and story co-op... except it's just mario galaxy style co-op where the second player points at things. like come on nintendo... you made this dog for marketing points and you won't even let the second player be him.

there's a LOT more i could dig into like all the returning enemies and environments and ice hazards but i think this is long enough of a post for now, and probably the last one until i get to play it. there is a demo coming very soon and i can't resist the siren call of that so that will be fun to crack into. ending this post with oatchi and ice pikmin plush

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

@megatraven (there’s some proofreading but forgive me if some stuff is off or doesn’t make sense exactly. It’s 3 AM rn and I really wanna post this lol)

EDIT: Also, I didn’t see that you answered my ask about Meg and Hercules, so I’m sorry that some info is off😭.

Hercules and MC Friendship AU part 1: Hercules’s Songs.

Okay my song breakdown is of 2 covers of a song called, “Love me, love me, love me,” and they’re English covers of a Japanese song. Here is the cover by LittleJayneyCakes and here’s the other by JubyPhonic, which I will be using the lyrics from. I’ll be switching back and forth (since some lyrics I like from one and then some I like from the other) to make them fit the theme, and I’ll make sure to say where they come from :).

Anyways, after looking at the comments, you learn that this isn’t a yandere song (tho it sounds a lot like it), and is instead about golden child syndrome. The syndrome where a child will do anything it takes to get love from their parent(s). It’s shown in the lyrics such as:

(JubyPhonic): “I’m doing so well have you heard? You see, you see, I’m such a good girl! Cute as a button you heard.”

But sometimes it edges into a dangerous line, where the person is getting hurt.

JubyPhonic: “You see, you see, so good this girl. In pain I scream you see?!”

And then I’ll switch the JayneyCakes’s lyrics at that some moment which is: “Hey, hey, lovely just like me. Aren’t I the cutest of all? Hey, hey, I’m good, aren’t I? If you say no I’ll cry!” The doubt and the NEED to KNOW if they’re doing good just hits and proves the point more.

And then Jubyphonic’s “Aishite” (which is the original Japanese line at this point) is instead, “Love me I say,” while JayneyCakes is “Love me I beg,” which I feel FITS SO GOOD.

Jubyphonic: “Love me I say, love me I say, love me I say, more and more! Love me I say, love me away! Until I’m not completely sane.” I used to hear this line as “Love me you say,” which is like the parent is telling the kid to love them, which I feel could also fit, but “love me I say,” is what she actually sings.

JayneyCakes: “Love me I beg! Love me I beg! Love me I beg! More and more! And love me I beg! Love me I BEG! Till we feel madness creeping in.” (Highly recommend listening so you can hear the pure emotion in her voice and how hard it hits)

Now, how does this fit with Hercules and MC? Well, I listen to this song and I hear Hercules so heavy in it. Like, you could say it fits Alex (since they do so much to please their mother and Olympus in general), but this song is to an even higher degree than what Alex does, just like Hercules is. I cannot remember too much about Hercules, but from what I remember the reason he’s taking the auras is because Zeus promised him he’d be able to become a full god (Top Tier I believe) if he collected a certain amount of Aura’s.

I see him going above and beyond because he even stole Meg’s who, I believe, was Hercules’s love at the time. He’s stealing auras and doing whatever it takes to please his father and other Olympians, and he’s definitely been doing this for years and years. Probably since he was born. We see how demigods are treated on Olympus, such as Zeus calling Deukalion’s human side a “weakness”, and we definitely know that belief plays a part in Hercules’ life and how he acts. I’m so certain he’s been told his human side is a weakness ALL his life, definitely in the old days. And I feel like a part of him hates him, which I imagine from these lyrics following the previous:

LittleJayneyCakes: “Its agony, it’s agony, this curse I bear. Undo it, undo it, hey!” But he’s gotten so used to it that he can’t be stopped. “It can’t be stopped now, no, AAAAH!!”

And Hercules has gotten so used to it that he doesn’t think twice about stealing the auras. Just like the lyrics from LittleJayneyCakes. He changes over time, growing older with each century and Millenia.

LittleJayneyCakes: “Time goes on, time goes on, changes come to your frame, but the collar stays the same.” He’s so used to it. “It’s agonizing now, but this is nothing new. People just, people just, they’re not enough!”

The “collar” its mentioning is metaphorical that is sung about in the beginning, only mentioned about finding a collar and tying it around their neck and it becoming tighter and “blinding” their vision (in both versions with diff lyrics). I didn’t mention it because I wanted to jump right into it, but the collar is metaphorical. To me, the collar symbolizes the control the parent has and how it’s grown tighter.

Zeus’s control on Hercules, and even other divine beings, has changed over time and definitely become harsher.

JubyPhonics (the same time where JayneyCakes was at): “Grow as you may like a sweet summers day, but this collar will stay just the same. I’m hurting and bleed, I need more to feed. Get people, more people the choker would scream!”

This is where I was secondly hit the most with Hercules thoughts, with both lyrics but here’s both that follow immediately after the previous (with JayneyCakes REALLY hitting the Hercules feeling):

JubyPhonic: “I am the best in my class they attest, I’m a girl far above all the rest. From better than Rose, to better than all you. People, oh people, look only at me!”

JayneyCakes: “I vow to not lose to anyone in my class, aren’t I such a lovely child? (Hey). From more than that child! To more than that child! Ladies and gentlemen, gather ‘round, marvel at me!”

He’s doing all this to get everyone to look at him and give him validation. To give him love and for him to PROVE himself through anything. No matter what it takes. Even if it means he loses things he cares for. I can’t remember too much about our guy Hercules (since I can’t bring myself to watch Hydra’s route all over again rn tho I love him) but I can bet he’s lost a lot in his life too, since he’s followed everyone rules and guidance, even when it is bad. These lyrics both hit me, so I can’t really choose. They’re both just SO great, at least in these lines:

Jubyphonic: “Meeting alone in the yard, from me to you confessing my heart. Was it a lie from the start? To say I love you from afar, as filthy a creature you are!”

JayneyCakes: “Behind the gymnasium, when I told you that I was in love. Wasn’t that kind of a lie? I love you so, so very much, even though I think that you’re TRASH!

This feels like the Olympians (especially Zeus) giving him attention and validation, but still letting him know his human side is a weakness. They love him, but see him as weak (filthy creature) and not worth it (trash).

And then the golden child syndrome shows heavily here. Especially in Juby’s side. He’s willing to do whatever it takes and it’s plainly stated.

Jubyphonic: “Love me I say, love me I say, love me I say, take what you want of me. Taking from me, taking from me! All that I have and all that I keep!” And then Olympus’s POV: “Screaming for more. You’re not enough! Screaming for more. I couldn’t give you up, Ah!”

And then a big part that I can’t really decide who it’s coming from, since I see these songs as a conversation almost. Is this Olympus apologizing to him? Or Hercules apologizing to who he’s hurt? And may hurt in the future?

Jubyphonic: “I am just so sorry!” And then it goes into the “Love me I say,” and such, BUT adds the part, “Love me away, until I’m not completely sane! Torturing me, strangling me, torturing me. More and more, more and more, ahh!!” I see this as the collar continuing to tighten and tighten, until:

“Aren’t I so happy today?”

BUT JayneyCakes side hurts too (this is the part where Juby is all “taking from me”): “Love me I beg, love me I beg, love me I beg, I’ll give you everything. But in return, but in return! I’ll make you share this hatred I bear. It’s not enough, YOU’RE not enough, just not enough! But I won’t let you go, ahhh!!! I’m sorry about this!” And then travels back into the “love me I beg” from the beginning, but instead of Juby’s final lyrics they say:

“Love me I beg! Till we feel madness creeping in. It’s agony- I won’t let go- it’s agony. Strangle me, strangle me, hey!!” And then the part that feels so Hercules to me, something I bet he wonders:

“Isn’t this happiness?”

And then she screams. She screams!!! JUST AH!! It hits so good. These lyrics feel like such a Hercules song because I believe he’s doing so much of his fathers bidding bc he wants to become a top tier god. The people who are seen as ‘important’ in Olympus and who have respect from everyone! They’re true gods, no matter what, and that’s how he can become worth it. It’s how he can be seen as ‘perfect’ in his eyes. He wants to see the validation and live, no matter the cost.

Even if it hurts him, terribly so, or others around him. He’ll give whatever it takes, even parts of himself, to Olympus to be seen as worth it. And he’s lived so long that the question, “Isn’t this happiness?” Feels like a genuine question he might ask. He’s lived like this for so long….does he even know any other way? Any other way to live? Or is this it? Taking from others to gain approval, is it the only thing he knows?

That’s my first part of this AU I have involving MC and Hercules friendship. I wanted to break down these 2 covers because these lyrics always hit me as Hercules, AND MC AS WELL!! I’ll explain the MC part later (so this might be a 3 part…..I’m not sure yet) and then how I see their friendship forming and the point of these posts.

I love you Meg!! And I hope I didn’t come off as too sympathetic to Hercules. He’s done some fucked up shit, but a part of me sees a little deeper into it, just like we do with Zeus and Eros and any other insufferable God lol. I hope you enjoy the breakdowns and I highly recommend listening to both! They’re so good and it’s the only way to really hear the emotion and see what I mean! Especially LittleJayneyCakes (she puts her whole life into this cover). If you do, I’d love to hear your thoughts, but if not then that’s okay!!

But I would love to hear your thoughts or rambles or screams (or even disagreements if you have some) about the breakdown and the beginning of my Hercules and MC friendship posts!! Love you💙💙.

[miku-meeku]

"hes hot, i like red flags, i can fix him, i can make him worse, i forgive him"

So... Andrew and Whitney?

also yes pls talk about horror rpg fellow manly enjoyer :3

must i bear this cross forever....

anws i dont remember my first manly video i watch but i do remember watching his playthrough of my favorite rpg horror game

Dreaming Mary

its so good and its so underrated, i use dreaming mary a lot for my dreamland fairytale ocs

THEY WERE PLANNING ON MAKING A SEQUEL OF DREAMING MARY BUT IT HASNT COME OUT FOR....WHO KNOWS HOW MANY YEARS NOW SOBS....

PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS WONDERFUL MUSIC OF THE SEQUEL GAME THAT ISNT OUT YET

anws lemme pull up my first dreamland ocs based off of the dreaming children

these were made in 2019 i think if its not obvious yet, i was really obsessed w harumaki gohan songs at the time

the only ref sheet i have back in 2020, infos might be outdated now (if anyone feels like theyre familiar abt the name akari furutaka, no u dont, i def didnt steal it from this knock off yansim game i was obsessed w back then as a kid)

this was in 2021

and this was in 2022 ft all the other children that ive excluded cuz i forgor their existence

heres real life counterparts of these two back in 2020 kyaa

...i really need to finish that draft post back in january of me rambling abt my 100+ ocs...

anws dreaming mary is so good, pls go check out the tumblr acc above even tho its dead for more info abt dreaming mary and the sequel game thats not out yet

Blue Dreams

[crossover-enthusiast]

this is random but im super frustrated that i cant open my green tea so heres random kevin n streber headcanons

-streber loves eating butter. like. whole ass sticks of butters

-kevin LOVES bagels

-i feel like when kevin was younger he would eat peanut butter out of a jar with a spoon and hide behind his bedroom door so no one would find him

-streber bakes when their happy or trying to distract themself from something (if kevin is sad, he bakes or cooks something for him :3)

-streber n kevin r chaos together. while both have their logical sense, they love doing dumb shit and encouraging eachother about it. afterwards they giggle about it

-kevin is vry clingy !! ! he loves cuddling with streber n hugging them. kevin is okay w/ pda, but overall doesn't typically prefer it. (unless one of them is getting flirted w/ unwantingly, then its perfectly fine.) the most he'll do is hand holding, arm over shoulder, or wrapping his arm around strebz.

-petnames?!?,!,?, streber loves petnames a LOT. since i hc hes german he wuld def use german petnames :3. kevin?? uh,, i dont really k. n ow???? i cant rlly tell w/ this guy yknow??? we dont have any info about how he is w/ romantic partners, and we only got his sexual orientation lol. i feel like he would use some petnames, but only occasionally. nothihg cringy or weird like fuckifhf "boo boo bear" 😭😭😭😭😭

these two have a death grip on me save me

im bored and this was made on a whim lol dont gotta respond

OOOOO

Kevin eating penut butter out of a jar when he was little is actually SO funny ksjfndskjn

Also baker Streber,,,, hell yeah

[madness-in-the-flesh]

Ngl, being Anon is hard. I've never done it before until your blog and I'm this close to revealing myself to you in DM or something.

However, I will keep going for a bit ^^ I love requesting for you, although I'd hate to over do it.

This concept has been bouncing around in my head.

Think of the size difference with Yandere! Mag Agents. They could carry you around everywhere and you couldn't disagree.

I was mainly thinking Mag Agent Torture or any of the other variations (v1 - v4) but Mag Hank could technically use height/size to his advantage with a Darling. Intimidation and stuff, y'know?

Idk, do what you will with this info! Drabble or no I kinda want to see your thoughts if you do Mags.

- 💜

Do whatever you'd like and feel comfortable with. If you feel comfortable talking to me in dms but don't want to come off anon when requesting, go ahead +) I 100% understand and if not, Then I 100% understand too! but in the end it's entirely up to you and what you feel comfortable / happy with! I'm just excited to get the chance to know you via anon because your really sweet and I love seeing you in my ask box !! <3

I'm very happy to hear you love requesting from me though +) means a lot to hear and your requests are always fun to write!

I HAVE to agree w/ you though. You bet the Mags would 100% abuse their size but also they probably like holding you like a child with a teddy bear. I couldn't disagree even if I wanted to because then each Mag would pick me up by my ankles and swing me around and throw me like a hammer toss.

Okay so originally I had headcannons AND a short paragraph at the end written for a good couple mags in game yesterday but Tumblr decided " wouldn't it be funny if we reloaded this post JUST before posting the finished thing " so I'm just gonna write a quick thing for Mag Hank, hope that's cool +') I might rewrite the stuff I had in future tho.

MAG! HANK DRABBLE

GENRE - ROMANTIC / PLATONIC

TRIGGER WARNING - Intimidation, manipulation, kidnapping implied,

Not much you can do when you're backed into a corner like a frightened kitten and that mean ol’ dog that’s been chasing you all over Nevada, and now the enclosure he made for you out of love suddenly decides to rear its ugly head. With the current state of everything, it didn’t surprise you. 

You tried to press yourself into the wall as much as possible as if somehow you’d shrink into the behind, turning to sludge and moulding into the wall. Maybe in a better place but it only made more room for the large Mag to close in. Hank had been… different ever since the magnification took place. His whole temperament was thrown off and was a lot more animalistic. Possessive. Where once that security he felt because he knew no one was better than him: But no need for you to interact with others, was now replaced with the need to be the only one you interacted with. The only one who could lay eyes on you, touch you, breathe you in and exhale your aura. He adored you. 

The shadow looming over your retreating form was enough to establish himself. Intimidating you, perhaps he wasn’t receptive. After all Hank’s intelligence had… gone down considerably, favouring his newfound brute strength over any previous strategy. Then again, his endurance had gone up considerably since then. Maybe he had just decided that a game plan was for the frail. For someone like you, trying to crawl away from him. A futile attempt at your own little escape.

The next action solidified that he was well aware of the effect this new stature had on you. Reaching down with his right arm, The one that was of crimson, matching that of dried blood decorated with strange spikes protruding out of his shoulders and strange orange stripes going down the outside. It was otherworldly and even more reason to get as far away as possible. 

He wrapped it around you and roughly grappled you into his arms. He didn’t say anything, Just beginning to walk off and through the “ home ” he set up for you and him. You struggled and wiggled in his grasp, hoping to escape but your blood ran cold when you watched the shadow of his head rear over you. Looking up, He was staring at you. 

You could feel his chest rumble as he began to let out a low growl. It was deep, gravely and carnal. You didn’t know why you felt so intimidating but the looming dread that suddenly filled the atmosphere. Maybe it was the deathly quiet combined with the silent mountain of a man finally making his first vocal response since you had begun the chase, hours ago. In all that time running, climbing and doing everything to get away from him, He never made one comment. 

His face never gave anything away thanks to the headgear, but you could only imagine the cold stare he was giving you. Invisible eyes glared daggers that stabbed into your skin, pricking you with every little blade as you turned away. With some failed attempt at shielding yourself from all the tiny cuts, beginning to sting you with fear. The feeling of your heart beating terror acted as the tempo for hank’s footsteps as he began to walk again, heavy footsteps calling into the white noise around the place. Empty and cold, Only making you feel more afraid for your safety. It only made your coercion so much easier. Hank was happy with this. 

You were so much easier to handle when you were afraid.