#people even said a lot of nice things lately about my drawings when i felt down <3...But what if they were lying

[lunarharp]

clearout of drawings :)

[mxlktxa]

ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ)ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!ᴀᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ(ꜱ); ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ*, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴅɪɴᴀ ɴᴏʟᴀꜱᴛɴᴀᴍᴇ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ʀɪʟᴇʏ ᴀʙᴇʟ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ)

ᴄᴡ; 18+ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴇʟʟɪᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜ (ꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴀʀᴍ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ(/ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴀʟ (ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ, ᴅᴏʟʟ, ᴇᴛᴄ)

ᴡᴄ; 1.2ᴋ, 6.8ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

I had known this girl all my life. Since we were kids, really. She was just a sweet, innocent, happy girl. She could never do anything wrong. Even her appearance came off of such, definitely wouldn’t hurt a fly. Made friends easily— not with me, I was an ass—, super creative, and very talented. She was an angel, anyone would agree. You could love her oh-so easily.

Back when we were younger, she always came up to me whenever she saw me isolated from anyone else, wanting to hold conversations or just sit in a comfortable silence. As we got older, conversations were held much better and longer. She ended up giving me gifts out of the blue, begging me to accept them even when I told her to stop spoiling me. Drawings, little candy baskets, sweet notes, invitations for a sleepover or dinner at her parents.

I’m telling you. She’s the sweetest.

Later down the line, sometime between seventh and eighth grade, I would see her personality falter here and there, see her have her bad days, yet act like she was having such a fantastic one. Behind closed doors she would break down, screaming and crying her lungs out, verbally considering self-harm. I talked her out of it, thankfully, I didn’t want to see her so deep in an endless void.

Highschool rolled around, we were very, very different people. I ended up getting into substances I shouldn’t’ve gotten into, lots of fights, loads of rumors, and plenty of quick and unreasonable relationships. But her? She stayed the same. Perfect, gorgeous, happy, so very happy-go-lucky. Of course, she had her bad days, thats a given. But they were because of that stupid path I decided to walk down. And yet, that peachy little angel stayed by my side.

Fucking angel.

Around graduation, I was only smoking weed, selling some every now and again, taking time off of being in relationships. Fights were drastically reduced but rumors… Not so much. We went back to having sleepovers and little lunch dates. Mainly sleepovers as she said she enjoyed staying up with me and sleeping on top me more than sitting down and eating for what felt like ten minutes. She even encouraged me to go to college with her, move into a nice little home with her. As friends.

Moving in was wild. We would go out four times a week, constantly stay up late, and drink as if alcohol poisoning wasn’t a thing. That’s when I found out her appearance and personality was definitely not her default behavior. She was a total… let’s just say she’s not so innocent. She’s a wild dancer, crazy dirty talking, so flirtatious, highly sensual. That’s how she ended up basically admitting she’s always liked me and been dying to fuck me.

“Y’know, Els, I’ve always liked you. Love you, even. And I hated all those girls y’got with. Except that Riley girl. She was a sweetheart. M’but not Dina. ‘Specially Dina. Fuck her. Speakin’ o’ which, I would give anything to fuck you. To watch my sweet Ellie through half shut lids as she— …Mmph, nevermind. Sorry, m’sorry.”

“No, no. Tell me. Tell me what you want your ‘sweet Ellie’ to do. Hm? What do you want from me, princess?”

“Yeah? Y’wanna know?”

“Tell me, baby. No one’s around to judge.”

“I wanna watch you eat me out until I’m nothin’ but a crying, shaking mess. My legs, over your shoulders, our eyes filled with nothin’ but lust and pure love. Get me high beforehand, m’curious about what it might feel like.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm… Better yet, buy a strap and let me sit on it. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me. No complaints.”

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty.”

“Tell me about it.”

That entire interaction is what led me to actually laying her out and having her beyond fucked stupid. She asked and she received. Soon, we just labeled ourselves as a couple, she took me to meet her parents— as if I didn’t know them already— and I took her to meet mine. That includes Joel, even if he was just a really cool babysitter I had when I was younger. They love each other, platonically, of course.

“You? You’re the one that gave ‘er that bruise on ‘er arm?”

“Yep!”

“Y’seem so sweet, though. You’re also quite tiny. I reckon you could take ‘er in a fight, huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Our play fighting does not do her justice, Joel.”

“Hey! You cheat! All the time!”

“I do not.”

“Joel!”

“I believe you, don’t worry, kiddo.”

We rarely ever fought. If we did it was either over something stupid— which resulted in talking it out—, or for valid, genuine reasons— those resulted in building up tension for a few hours, fucking, then talking it out. Terrible, I know but lord was she so filthy and rough.

I loved this girl and everything we’ve ever been through. She dealt with me for so long, she helped me through everything, she changed me. Of course, she would say I did the same for her but I would harshly disagree. I haven’t done nearly as much as she has for me. Except proposing and marrying the girl.

Oh, boy was she crying and passing out for the next few days.

Now present day, here we were, married and going through old photos we had and the notes she gave me back then. She was sat in front me in her nightgown, giggling at every photo she found from middle school. The picture was handed to me, both of us in our halloween costumes from that year.

“Remember this? Our little pirate and princess phase?” her eyes met mine, sending shivers up my spine and some wild butterflies in my stomach. I could only nod and stare at her in silence, too hung up on her giddy expression. “We were so cute. We still are, don’t get it twisted, but… This is a different kind of cute.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” I spoke without really thinking, watching the love of my life perk up at the small compliment. God she was the cutest.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, "I think you're very handsome."

"Handsome?"

"Mhm."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she giggled, scooting back from me, "so handsome that I could die."

We stared at each other in a comfortable silence, slowly starting to smile and puff up our cheeks with air. Within seconds we blew raspberries and began laughing like crazy. While she was in the middle of laughing, I grabbed the nearby polaroid that she had beside her, aiming it at her laughing expression and taking the chance to snap the photo.

"Got 'cha, pretty girl," lowering the camera, she gasped and snatched the photo from the device in my hand, sliding it off to the side. Those eyes I adored so much landed on me, holding an idea we both knew I couldn't confuse.

"Y'know, Els," she started, having me roll my eyes immediately and nod to her, "why don't we start a little private collection?”

As per usual, she came up with something I never expected to leave her mouth. My head tilted to the side, surprised at the suggestion meanwhile she just shrugged while reaching for the camera, “here. I’ll start.”

Just like that, her dropped the straps on her nightgown over her shoulders, her breasts on full display to me… And the camera. I watched as she made up various poses, snapping numerous pictures. She even stared directly at me a few times as the flash had gone off. I’m definitely fucking her after we put this stuff up.

“You’re something else, y’know that?”

“And yet,” she crawled over to me, straddling me, chest now against mine as she hugged me tightly, “you absolutely adore it. Don’t you?”

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

ᴀɴ; ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀꜱᴋꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ!! ̤̮

[amazingmsme]

You're The Mouse

AN: I was having a hard time wondering just what I wanted to do for the chase prompt, and then I met Distortion Michael & the rest is history! This was an absolute blast of a fic to write, definitely one of the longer ones you'll see this month. I already miss Tim a lot so he gets a nice lil spotlight too. Posting this at 2am because I'm excited & the one time I did that it blew up. Hope y'all enjoy day 6!

It had been a long, tiring day with some rather harrowing statements he had to hear and record himself. His back ached from hunching over the desk for hours without a good break, and he felt tired down to his bones. Even his eyes felt tired, burning from the strain of staring at small font and lack of blinking. He couldn't wait to get home and crash in the couch. It was only Wednesday, which for him didn't bode well for the rest of the week.

He should've noticed the static. That fuzzy ringing in his ears that started out quiet, only to grow in intensity. If his mind wasn't so frazzled, he would've noticed that's not his usual office door.

A chill ran down his spine when he stepped through the doorway and found himself deep in the tunnels.

"Oh God," he muttered to himself, backing up and turning to run, but it was too late. The door was gone, and he ran straight into Michael's arms. Though he didn't remain there for long.

He screamed and started trashing, managing to elbow him in the stomach and stomp on his foot. Temporarily hurt, he recoiled enough for his grip to slip so Jon could free himself. He whipped around to face him once he felt there was a suitable distance between them. Although with Michael, he wasn't sure there even was such a thing.

"What the hell do you want now?" he growled, hands gripping the strap of his messenger bag tightly. Michael let out an echoing, disorienting chuckle.

"Oh archivist, I simply want some fun."

That was quite possible one of the worst things he could've said, at least in Jon's opinion. Because when Michael had fun, people usually ended up dead or insane, or in a cruel twist of fate, both.

"Maybe you should pick up a hobby, like drawing or golfing, or literally anything that involves leaving all of us alone," he suggested, though it felt more like a plea once it left his tongue. Michael let out a shrill giggle.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he asked with a tilt of his head. His wide smile was unnerving. "You're my favorite little toy."

Jonathan's face scrunched up in disgust as he looked him up and down, clearly not amused by his statement.

"Oh get your mind out of the gutter archivist, I didn't mean it like that," he scolded. "It's more like... when you were a child and you'd build fantastic cities out of blocks just so you could watch their destruction at your own hands." He took a step closer. "I'm just looking for a bit of fun amidst the chaos."

His held his hand out in front of him, reaching for Jon. His eyes widened in fear, stumbling backwards. Michael's hand distorted and stretched before his very eyes, long fingers growing in the darkness of the tunnels. Jon was already halfway down the hall.

Michael loved the thrill of the chase. He loved hearing the rapid thud of a racing heart, the panicked gasps for air as they ran for an escape. They were all the same, really, if he thought about it. Just a mindless chase through endless, winding halls that always ended victoriously. (For him, at least.)

Jon was frantic. Why now, of all days? He was so ready to walk through his front door, kick off his shoes and enjoy a nice hot frozen meal on his couch. It really was the least he could ask for, and yet, he couldn't even have that. The only saving grace was the fact that he was in the archive tunnels instead of whatever weird pocket dimension the Distortion liked to trap people in. His lungs ached as his feet pounded against the hard, dirt floor, eyes searching through the dark for something, anything to register with him and give him a clue as to his whereabouts, but it all looked the same.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!" the voice was shrill and empty, the words hollowed out and stuffed to the brim with static. It echoed through the tunnels, and Jon couldn't tell where it came from, but the echo made it sound so fucking close and that sent him into a panic.

He ran ahead, ducking in a small alcove to catch his breath. He felt like he'd put a sufficient distance between them to be safe enough to do so. He gulped down air until the burn in his lungs subsided. He raised two fingers to his neck, checking his racing pulse and willed himself to calm down. Every reaction was just giving Michael exactly what he wants.

He needed to conserve his energy, move slower to remain quiet and keep his wits about him. He was pretty sure he had his bearings now, which was a plus. But if he really was where he thought he was, then they were deep in the underground maze. It took the better part of 30 minutes to even get to this point in the tunnels!

At least he knew where he was, he told himself, forcing himself to focus on the bright side of things. He walked at a brisk pace, a borderline jog really. He wanted to get out of here quickly, but he didn't want to give Michael the satisfaction of causing him to panic.

"Believe it or not, I don't want to hurt you, archivist. I simply want to have some simple, haaarmless funnn together, ehehehehehe!" His voice went shrill and warbly and distorted towards the end of his unnerving giggle so much that it became almost inaudible. And fuck, if it didn't make Jon run.

Could you blame him though? There was no way that- that thing actually meant what it said. It was absolutely going to hurt him. And it was probably going to do so in the most terrible ways imaginable.

Jon hated the deep, guttural scream that ripped from his throat when he rounded a corner and came face to face with the blonde monster.

His feet scrambled on the packed dirt and he was already turning around, but arms that were too long wrapped around him from behind, dragging him back as they retracted to a more normal length. He was screaming and kicking the air, arms fighting to free themselves.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?" he chastised, holding a single finger to Jon's lips to quiet him. He went silent out of shock more than actual compliance.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?" Jon demanded, mustering enough confidence to glare him down. Michael just laughed.

"Like I said, I'm just looking for some fun. You humans aren't the only ones who get bored you know," he said condescendingly. Jon remained silent.

"I tend to- peak in, from time to time, just to see how my favorite sheeple are holding up," he mused, causing Jon to visibly cringe and roll his eyes.

"Good to know there's actual reason behind always feeling like I'm being watched," he grumbled.

"Oh no, I'm not the only one, but trust me, I'm your favorite."

"Quite the opposite."

"Well, I will be your favorite," he winked and giggled to himself. "But last week, I noticed you playing with your friends. You looked soooo happy then... I'd like to make you happy like that too, Jon."

What a nice sentiment from such a not nice entity, not to mention he had no clue what he was talking about. "Bullshit, you don't want to make me happy, you want to ruin my life!" he snapped, still continuing his struggle.

"Oh, but can't I do both? Life ruining is such a long process, and I'd really like to hear that laugh in person."

Realization dawned on him the same time terror wracked his body, body going stiff and eyes bugging out. Michael cocked his head, that unnaturally large smile forming into a curious pout.

"Why archivist, if I didn't know better I'd say you look frightened," he cooed. "There's no need for that. You didn't have that look when Martin snuck up on you in the break room," he pointed out.

"You keep his name out your fucking mouth," Jon growled, and in a moment he was pressing into the Distortion's space. He had grabbed him by the shirt collar and jerked him so hard his neck snapped at the momentum, their noses almost touching. A few flecks of spit even landed on Michael's cheek from the force of Jon's rage. It genuinely took him aback before a wicked grin took over.

"Your boy toy's off limits, lesson learned."

"He's not my-" Jon cut himself off, seeing no use in arguing with him. His eyes were closed and he pressed a free hand to his temple. "Look. You said you wanted your sick fun, but all you've done since capturing me is talk. I'm a smart man, I know I can't escape this. But I'm fucking tired, and I just wanna go home, so the sooner you shut up and get on with it, the better."

There was a beat of silence, and then a shit eating grin followed by, "If you wanted me to tickle you already, you could've just said so."

"No, I want to go home you assho-" Jon cut off his own rambling mid sentence as Michael started fluttering his fingers over his sides, prompting him to clamp his mouth shut. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm doing this so I can hear that cute, funny laugh of yours archivist! The longer you hold out the longer I have to tickle tickle tickle you!" his taunt echoed off the walls. Jon flushed and hid his face in his hands.

"Y-you're sohoho fucking weheheird!" His voice pitched higher towards the end of his sentence when Michael tweaked his sides before drilling in his thumb. He tossed his head back with a discordant cackle of his own, seemingly amused by the response.

"Is that really the best insult you can come up with? How adorably pathetic!" he cooed, reaching around with his other hand to knead his belly. Jon writhed in his grip, snickering and squealing with no way to escape.

"Shut up or Ihihi'll- nohoho wahahait!" the threat died on his tongue, melting into frantic giggles. He kicked his feet in the air and gently shoved at the offending tickly hands, but to no avail. He slumped in his hold, leaning back over his arm and covered his face with his hands.

"Oh? And what exactly am I waiting for?" Michael asked, cocking his head. The way he was so calm while picking Jon apart made it all the more maddening. Those long, spindly fingers were able to work their way into every tickle spot they could find, and it was perhaps the most horrendous thing he's ever felt in his life.

"I-Ihihi dohon't knohohow!" he whined, yelping when Michael pinched and prodded at his soft tummy. "Just shuhut up!"

"Hm, I don't think I will. Especially if it gets you all worked up like that," he taunted. Ironically, he started tracing a large spiral over his stomach, closing in on his bellybutton. Jon snorted, covering his face with one hand while trying to push Michael away with the other.

"Ohoho you've gotta behehe johoking," Jon groaned through his giddy laughter, rolling his eyes.

"What? It's my signature, I simply have to," he said casually, closing in on the center of his stomach. Jon's deep chuckles morphed until they were high pitched and bubbly. He was blushing like a fool behind his hand, shrieking and wiggling in Michael's arms all the while.

~~~

Tim had the worst luck. He had been halfway home when he realized he'd not only left his wallet, but his keys as well, at the institute. He backtracked, grumbling to himself the whole time.

He hated nothing more than being alone in the archives. It was bad enough being there during the day surrounded by people, but at night when those endless halls and rooms were empty? It might as well be straight out of a horror game.

He was trying to get to his office as fast as possible, but slowed as he neared Jon's office. The light was off, and he couldn't hear talking, sure, but the door was left open. Jon never left his door open.  The sight filled Tim with dread.

"Boss? You still here?" he called out, but received no answer. He walked to the door and peeked inside, greeted only by a dark and empty room.

Maybe he just forgot to shut the door when he left, he tried to reason with himself. But none of them were that lucky, especially not Jon. Still, he went back to retrieve his things and be on his way.

Execpt that's when he heard it.

Muffled screaming. Coming from below.

Tim froze, unsure if what he was hearing was true. He bent down, putting his ear to the floor and listened.

He could just make it out.

"Please, no, have mercyyyyy!"

That was someone pleading for their life. That was Jon pleading for his life... He raced to the trapped doors.

He had the sickening feeling that he'd walk in on Elias standing over Jon's body, having killed him deep within the tunnels just as he did Gertrude. Well not today.

He descended into the tunnels, pausing when he heard frantic, hysterical screams echoing down the halls, but he could swear it sounded like... laughter. And now that he was within the tunnels, he could hear that it was undeniably Jon's.

Just what the hell was going on?

~~~

Jon knew he was going to die here, in these godforsaken tunnels. He had no way of stopping this, and Michael proved to be just as relentless now as he's ever been. And those long fucking fingers of his were absolute torture. Just one hand was big enough to vibrate over his entire stomach and still wrap around to dig  into his sides and scribble at the base of his spine. Jon was effectively in hysterics, shrieking and giggling with no end in sight.

He should hate this. Should hate that it was Michael of all people doing this to him, but an overwhelming part of him was relieved that he wasn't subjected to legitimate torture. A more foolish part of him thought that maybe Michael was warming up to them: that maybe he wasn't so downright malicious after all.

And then he felt sharp nails scratching behind both his ears, and that thought was gone as soon as it had arrived. If he hadn't been cackling so loud, perhaps they would've heard Tim calling out for Jon, telling him to just hold on, he'll be right there.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

If Jon hadn't been so preoccupied, he'd have jumped and shrieked in fright, though he was shrieking for an entirely different reason at the moment. Michael on the other hand, did startle, having been caught red handed. He almost seemed embarrassed, and dropped him like a sack of potatoes. Jon landed flat on his back, the breath being knocked out of his already breathless lungs. Tim was frozen in place, taking in the scene. He was knocked out of his daze when he saw Jon hit the ground, and he immediately rushed over to help him up.

Jon was gasping and wheezing, face red and hair messy, but he still had that rare, genuine smile on his face.

"Sorry you had to see that, I had thought the archives was empty," Michael said in lieu of an explanation.

"Yeah, it was. Good thing I had to come back," Tim snapped. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, he's perfectly fine. I didn't harm a single hair on his head."

"You fucking dropped me!"

Michael let out a shrill chuckle. "And that was a complete accident! But you can't really blame me for wanting to have my own fun with you. Especially after everyone else made it look like so much fun."

"Hey, you stay away from him! Only we're allowed to torture Jon like that!" Tim scolded weakly, but it was all he could think to say. Which just made him feel stupid when Michael continued to laugh at them.

"Oh, so you're the only ones who can toy with the archivist, is that it?" he asked tauntingly, cocking his head. Tim opens his mouth to answer, but stops short. Jon is sitting curled in a ball, hiding his face in his knees.

"No, you've got it wrong. We do it because we care about him, and want him to be happy, even if it's short lived. You do it for your own sick kicks!" Tim accused. Jon's head snapped up when he admitted their reasoning for why they always seem to tickle him out of the blue. It brought a shy smile to his face as he recovered from the ordeal.

"... Well that's a rude assumption. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

Tim snorted, "My point exactly." They were all quiet, the three of them engaged in a bit of a stalemate. "Aren't you going to show yourself the door?" he boldly prompted. Jon choked on his own spit in shock.

Michael's smile widened. "You know, I wasn't quite finished yet. And I'd hate for you to feel left out," he playfully threatened, and his limbs stretched ever so slightly as he spoke. Tim took a step back, eyes wide. Jon was just now making to stand, and pointed at him sternly.

"No." He stood up and dusted himself off, glasses askew on his face. He straightened them and cleared his throat. "Haven't you had enough? You leave him, and everyone else alone." And just because he knows better than to trust Michael, added, "That includes me too."

"I'll think about it. It'd be easier if you weren't so fun to tickle. Isn't that right Tim?" Michael asked, even winking at the pair. Jon blushed and turned away, and Tim failed to fight back a smile.

"Heh. Right." He shook himself out of it, glaring at Michael as he stood by Jon protectively. "B-but you just mind your business."

"Ha! Unlikely, diet archivist."

"Hey!" Tim snapped at the insulted and Jon stifled an amused  snicker. He was just about to give him a piece of his mind when Michael opened a door that hadn't been there a second ago, standing in the doorway.

"Until we meet again," he waved at them, closing the door behind him, leaving them stunned and alone.

Now that Michael was gone, Tim turned to Jon with a teasing smirk. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'll be fine. I'm honestly... more confused than anything." Tim barked out a laugh and patted his shoulder.

"You and me both."

They began their trek out of the tunnels, walking side by side quietly until Tim broke the silence.

"So, what's it like being tickled senseless by the Distortion?" he asked in a teasing tone. Jon flushed and shot a glare his way, but he had that happy, sheepish grin plastered on his fast, just like every other time they wrecked him.

"Oh, should I have let you find out for yourself?" Jon quipped to mask his own embarrassment.

Tim looked down with a faint blush. "Fair point." A beat, and then, "You know we have to tell the others, right?"

Jon choked on his own spit, and Tim stopped walking to give him a moment. He looked at him expectantly, while Jon looked at him with a floored look.

"Are you joking?" he asked.

"As much as I wish I were, no." The shit eating grin on his face said otherwise. "You heard what that thing said. We're all fair game in his eyes." Jon gave a noncommittal hum. "They deserve a bit of a warning, don't you think?" It was true, but he didn't have to be so damn smug about it.

"Yes," Jon begrudgingly agreed through a growl.

"Think it might be best if you made a statement. You know, so we have an accurate account for the record."

Jon groaned and hid behind his hair. "I would literally rather die." Tim barked out a laugh and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Always with the dramatics! So you're saying you'd rather tell them in person? Look them in the eyes and admit how I saved you-"

"Don't-"

"From the big bad ti-"

Jon didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed. "Stop!"

"The big bad tickle monster named Michael!" Tim rushed out in one breath, laughing at the flustered squeak he made as he marched ahead. It took him no time at all to catch up, thanks to his long legs. "Oh come on, you know it's funny!"

Jon huffed, unable to hide his lingering smile. "Only because it wasn't you, asshole."

They continued their playful banter back and forth, unaware of the tape recorder that had appeared in Jon's pocket the moment he entered the tunnels, listening in and capturing every word.

~~~

Tim was relieved when he made it back home, slipping his key in the door and stepping inside. Strange, how he didn't seem to notice the change from handle to doorknob.

His eyes flew open when he was met with the sight of an endless, shifting corridor. He felt sick. A chill ran down his spine, his ears were ringing, his head filled with static and he stumbled in an attempt to get his bearings. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, and he felt so trapped.

Michael walked out from the nothingness, grin much too wide for his face. Tim hugged his arms to his body and stepped back, fighting an involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

"Y-you stay back! I'll fuck you up!" Tim cried, bravely putting his hands up, balled into fists and ready to swing. Michael laughed, and it was a sound that unsettled Tim to his very core. He held his hands up, and Tim couldn't help but flinch at the movement.

"Believe it or not, I'm not here to torture you. I'll save that for a rainy day," he added, chuckling at his own joke. Tim lowered his arms, staring at him skeptically.

"Okaaaay. So what the hell are you doing in my home?"

"But I brought you to my home," he corrected, and that wide grin turned just a tad condescending. Tim narrowed his eyes and set his jaw.

"Yeah, through my front door!" he argued before sighing in defeat, pinching the bride of his nose. "So what do you want?"

"I wanted to give you something." Tim perked up, looking at him in shock. He jumped and yelped when Michael was standing right in front of him. He held out the tape recorder.

"A little... souvenir from earlier. I doubt Sasha and Martin will believe you without proof." He placed the tape in Tim's hand, leaving him dumbstruck. "And I really have a hard time believing Jon will corroborate your story, don't you?"

Tim didn't know what to say. "Um... thank you?"

Michael winked at him. "You're welcome." And because he couldn't help himself, he skittered his fingers over his belly. Tim jerked back with a surprised laugh, a blush and a growing look of fear on his face.

"Relax. Like I said, rainy day."

He gave him a small wave and opened a door off to the side and left. Everything melted into his flat, and he was safe in the middle of his living room.

~~~

Jon walked into work the next day as if it were any other, eager to forget the events of last night. He went to the break room for a cup of coffee to start the day and walked in to see Sasha, Martin, and of course, Tim, huddled around a tape recorder. They all wore a look of concern. Well, except for Tim.

"What're you listening to?" he asked. Sasha and Martin jumped out of their skin when they heard his voice, whipping around to meet him. They looked rather guilty, but more concerning, they looked worried.

The next thing he knew, Martin was hugging him.

"I'm sorry, what's-" A voice on the tape interrupts him.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!"

"I-I'm so sorry, we left you here alone, and Tim said Michael got you and-"

"Did he now?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Now Jon, is that any way to speak to your knight in shining armor?"

"Oh please, you're not my bloody knight." He spoke over the sound of his own erratic breathing and feet pounding against hard packed dirt.

"Were you even gonna tell us Michael attacked you?" Sasha asked, brows furrowed with worry. "Because I really doubt it."

Jon floundered for an answer, face going red. "Um- it- look, it really wasn't as serious as Tim undoubtedly made it seem." He glanced up at his smiling face and said, "Would he really be grinning like that if it was?"

Of course, as soon as they looked at him, he schooled his features into a serious expression, but they each caught a glimpse of a fading smirk.

"Okay what's... what's happening right now?" Martin asked, looking between the two.

"You wanna tell them yourself Jon? Or uh, let the tape do the talking for you?" he asked, holding up the tape.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?"

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?"

Jon refused to meet his friends' gaze as he spoke over his previous conversation. "Look, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me, didn't psychologically scar me, the only thing damaged was my pride."

The tape played on in the background as Jon tried to explain himself. Michael's endless talk of having fun did nothing to calm Sasha and Martin's nerves for past-Jon. "I-I don't really know why he t- uuh, did what he did, but he seemed almost... friendly isn't exactly the word I'd use, maybe tame? Toned down?" That was about the time Michael mentioned the rest of them, and how they all "played" with Jon. A hesitant smile ghosted over Sasha's lips as she thought she knew what he was hinting at, and judging by Jon's reaction, she might be right, but there was just no way... Was there?

"Jon, did Michael-"

"Yes," he cut her off before she could finish the sentence. "Yeah, he uh, said you all made it look like fun, so he decided to try it out," he said, staring at the faded break room carpet.

"Wait, so it's our fault?" Martin asked, and Jon immediately felt guilty for saying it like that.

"No! God no, you guys are just trying to make me loosen up. Michael's just... morbidly curious."

"Right," Tim agreed, suddenly more serious. "He uh, told me he was waiting for a rainy day. So obviously, he has his sights set on all of us. Which is... unnerving to say the least." He locked eyes with Jon, a soft smile on his face. "So I'm not just doing this to fuck with you. But that is an excellent perk!" Jon couldn't help but chuckle. "But I thought everyone deserved a bit of a heads up. And maybe ease some worry while I'm at it." "Where'd you even get this?" Jon asked, pointing at the recorder just as his own bubbly giggles  started pouring out.

"Michael gave it to me."

"Very funny." When Tim's expression didn't change, his jaw dropped, "You're serious."

"Where else would I have gotten it from?"

"Fair point."

A loud shriek followed by shrill cackling and snorts emitted from the tape. All heads snapped over to look at him with amused grins and fond expressions.

"Right. Well, I lived through this once already. No need to stick around for a second time," he said, cheeks burning from embarrassment. He paused in the door. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Not likely."

"Nope!"

"Absolutely not."

He gave a curt nod, lips pursed together. "Thought so."

[utytimeline]

Thoughts on UTY (Pacifist Version)

Reactions from when I first played Pacifist, and observations I made as the game progressed.  A lot of these will be outdated by the time I get this list compiled, but it’s a faithful list of my reactions.  No spoilers, plz.  I haven’t done Geno, betrayal kills, or boss kills yet.  (I kinda don’t want to, these are my babies.)

Long post ahead.

Ruins

Questions

Clover is the narrator, aren't they? I don’t think Chara’s even in this game.

What happens if we don't leave a tip at the lemonade stand?

Is there a way to wake Decibat after he goes to sleep? (I know that's cruel, I'm just curious.)

Dalv keeps talking about a friend, talking like he thinks he will meet them again- Kanako?

Dalv is mistaking us for the human that attacked him, isn't he? The one that made Chujin decide to kill the next human?

Who was leaving Dalv corn? My best guess is Ceroba- that she's felt sorry for him this whole time.

How to look in Dalv's locked doors/drawers? (Probably have to kill him. That... is gonna hurt. I like Dalv, he's a sweetheart.)

Observations

Decibat's music volume decreases the more you stay silent. (Which makes me think all battle music is being generated by Clover, not the monster.)

"Penilla draws near." (Italics added for emphasis.) *facepalm*

"Rorrim" is "mirror" spelled backwards.

Also, "Dalv" is "Vlad" spelled backwards, so might Rorrim be Dalv's personal mirror? Seems to fit, Dalv is extremely tidy.

Dalv's furniture's "fine craftsmanship" is probably Chujin's work.

Other Thoughts

I feel like a sponge cake with 2x absorption should have an effect where it absorbs damage for at least 2 turns.

Snowdin

Questions

Does the Snowdin ice block ever move? The guy that comes here from the Dunes just stands there and does nothing. Perhaps I need to check very late in the game, return from the last SAVE in New Home or something.

What kind of creature is Mo? I looked it up, and all I can find is "he looks like a raccoon." Yeah, I can see that, but he's kinda reddish-brown, so maybe a red panda? I also considered the possibility that Mo could be a tanuki, a Japanese raccoon-dog (and yes, it looks like a raccoon) that supposedly tricks people, especially tricking them into buying drinks- and Mo is a drink salesman.

What are we to make of the human on the wanted poster that Marty describes?  She said they wore a hat like ours, but they came from space.  I can’t think of a single equippable UT item that seems outer spacey.  And since she’s describing a wanted poster, I don’t think she’s talking about Red (the monster she thought was a human).  My first guess is that some monsters may equate the Surface with outer space, since they’ve never seen either (and many monsters are obsessed with the stars- Starlo and all the monsters making wishes in Waterfall, for instance).

Observations

Flowey: "We won't be anywhere near your fancy surface air for a while." (Italics added for emphasis.) He sounds... jealous? This was when I first realized that Flowey's only playing nice, but I still have no clue what he’s really planning.

"Snowy" is just barely recognizable in "Snowfall."

Mo's theme is easy to recognize because not only does it use the Sega Genesis soundfont, it even includes the Michael Jackson whoop from Sonic 3&K.

Ice Wolf was when I started to realize that Yellow isn't that long before UT. (Yeah, I know, Flowey should've been my first clue, but I simply assumed he couldn’t be Asriel, that he was someone else that somehow turned into a flower.  Anything can happen in these games, after all.)

The Shufflers are all named after things you do with a drink: Toast, Swig, and my favorite, their leader Rephil (Refill).

The Shufflers scold Clover for starting a fight, but later Axis is the one trying to drag us into a fight.  I guess battles can go either way.

Shopkeepers have full animations, it's not just facial expressions.

Yellow finally gives us real puzzles. Some of them even take a bit to solve.

Flowey makes a comment about mailing ourselves to Asgore.  He clearly already knows about resets, so I think it’s likely that he’s seen the moment (at the end of The Dunes) that the whales start shipping people by mail.

Other Thoughts

Frostermit is so adorable. I need a Frostermit plushie.

Mo makes me think of what Spamton must have been like before Gaster (no, I'm not suggesting a connection, just that's what he made me think of- but given the other, more obvious DR inspirations throughout the game, I think it’s possible they were going for that kind of character).

Headcanon: Insomintot is related to Knight-Knight. They both inherited a genetic tendency to fall asleep when a human sings.

I love the UGPS jingle, it's so cute.

"(The remnants of a snowman. Once full of life. Now full of potential for new life.)" This line is a little creepy, to me. Clover may not realize it, they're probably just joking, but WE know that some snowmen in the Underground are alive, and I'm wondering what happened to this one.

I don't know if it's the same soundfont, but the Honeydew Resort theme reminds me of Final Fantasy: Mysticquest.

I actually picked "minor scales" when talking to the cellist at the resort, because I actually do like minor scales.

Being a Shadow the Hedgehog fan (the character, not just the game), I got a chuckle out of the description of coffee bean ammo. What do you mean, you can't eat the beans???

I haven't actually noticed any 4th wall moments, but Martlet's message on the second ball puzzle, the message that apologizes for making it too high to see and says the human must be very good at guessing, makes me think it's a very obscure allusion to the fact that Clover is being possessed by the player. There aren't enough moments like that in this game for me to go all crazy with lore and theories, but it's a nice touch to see such an allusion.

In all fairness, Marty has some craftsmanship abilities. Unfinished, shoddy workmanship notwithstanding, it still takes some knowledge of mechanics to make a water-powered door lock.

I just love Marty, she’s so sweet, I want her to be my little sister.

Waterfall

Questions

Why does the Royal Guard bother to survey their prisoners on “auditory ambiance” and things like that when they’re just gonna deliver the SOUL to Asgore???  I mean, isn’t the victim (except Red, apparently) usually dead before they get this far???

Observations

Not sure, but I’m guessing this is a different river than the one we travel with River Person.  Not only do we never meet River Person, but the colors of the ground and plants behind Ava look like the marshy sections of Waterfall that we never get to walk in.

Other Thoughts

I love how we never actually visit Waterfall (unless you count the post-credits scene), we just float past it.  Acknowledgement of the source material without actually copying it.  And gave them that much more time and room to include an entirely new area (2, if you count the Wild East as separate from the Dunes).

The mention of a Royal Scientist threw me off.  I totally did not expect Alphys, I thought this game took place many years before UT, and I’ve seen no Gaster references in this game at all.

The Dunes

Questions

More of a complaint than an actual question, but… if they wanted to make a Zelda reference, WHY OH WHY did they have to do the Death Mountain rockfall???

Since the Dunes are so near Hotland, could the gigantic Swelterstone be responsible for Hotland’s heat, too?

Since El Bailador calls us a “Sentinel of Silence,” how will killing Decibat affect the fight with Bailey?

If you do well in the Bailey fight, does he stop saying you don’t love dancing as much as him?

How to move the sunbathing (wait, what sun?) cactus that blocks that one road?

Observations

The Dunes is where I noticed that the battle theme changes depending on the location.

Sea Tea still increases SOUL speed.  Loved that they kept this in.

Same black slime that we met in MTT Resort Hotel.  And still outraged because of an elevator.  Feels like he’ll never find a working one.

Bowll being a china bowl shaped like a bull is probably a play on the phrase “a bull in a china shop.”

Clover got the green healing flowers (the ones in the Omega Flowey fight) from Violetta.

I sucked at Mew Mew Love Blaster, but I watched a walkthrough, and DID THEY SERIOUSLY GIVE MEW MEW A “BIG SHOT”?!?  (Coming back to this after finishing the game, I went, “yup, they did.”)

Other Thoughts

“Vigorous Terrain” is my favorite location theme, but I still haven’t figured out whether there’s any significance in it being a remix of “Your Best Friend.”

That first tumbleweed, the one that comes rolling out of the hole in the cliff, had me like “wut?”  I did love how they replaced Undyne’s rocks with tumbleweeds.

I also love the mines music.  The first few notes remind me of Zelda’s Lullaby (from LOZ).

I actually missed getting a free pickaxe because the monster’s trivia question about the Royal Scientist threw me off.  I still didn’t realize this took place after Asgore hired Alphys, I thought it came WAAAAY before that.  (This also finally confirmed for me that Flowey is, in fact, the same one we know from UT, Asriel.)

I tried not to make a lot of comparisons to DR, considering this isn’t even canon to UT, but I did feel like the mouse attack in Bowll’s fight was very similar to that one attack in the Maus fights in DR.  But I think the Maus fight itself was probably a reference to some old video game (can’t remember which one, it just always felt familiar), so maybe UTY was making the same reference.

Was stunned to see Undyne look-alikes in the Mines, was more surprised that they mentioned her, and was the most surprised to find that they’re not related.

Clover has a very cute animation for hopping in the mine cart.

I could not figure out Bailador’s fight mechanics, and tbh, I got thru it on an absolute fluke (and the silver scarf).  I had to look up a walkthrough later to realize you have to move into the right space AND press the action button when the color lights up.  I thought it was just being in the right space.  Every rhythm game controls differently, it seems.

Wild East

Questions

Do mail whales keep notebooks full of potential rhymes, like Marty and her notebook full of puzzle ideas?

Is “designated naptime” a reference to siestas, or did Star just not want to overwork everybody?

“A ballet shoe could be lethal if used enough times.”  Um.  Got anything to share there, Blackjack?  “Don’t question my morality!  I’m not prepared to speak on it!”  OKAY, I REALLY NEED YOU TO SPEAK ON IT NOW….

Can we get into the locked farm cellar?  (Preferably without killing anyone?)

Observations

Animals still living in the Underground at least provides some explanation for where monsters get their food (in addition to the corn).

The BEST part about the health overcharge?  You don’t lose it when you SAVE!  He might be a plague doctor, but Doc works absolute miracles.

Star paid double price for the gun he bought us.

They actually take around 15 paces for the dual (I lost count).  (And yes, I spelled it “dual” on purpose.)

Moray comments that Star made them walk around with a rubber snake in their boot.  I looked it up, and it looks like the first and most well-known movie to use that “snake in my boot” reference really WAS Toy Story (although it has origins outside of film from farther back).  So Starlo also watches animations (as long as they have cowboys).

Vengeful Virgil’s comment that not caring about others’ feelings is what makes him a villain, comes while we’re on our way to console Star after his cocky selfishness drove everyone away.  This was not a coincidence.

Every monster has a magical ability, and Starlo’s is literal “bullet time” (he can slow you down).

^This also makes me wonder: remember how he flew backwards in slow-motion when we shot him in the dual?  I wonder if he was using his bullet time on himself for dramatic effect.

Star’s family: his dad, Solomon (the sun), his mom, Crestina (the moon), and a brother who’s name I never found but looks like a 4-pointed star.  (I’ve seen people call him Orion, so I’m going with that, for now.)

Star has several sticky notes in his dad’s almanac, and keeps dad’s almanac on his own bedroom nightstand.  Seems like Star probably took his life on the farm seriously before he left home.

Star also apparently had an interest in outer space.  Possibly some confusion stemming from Toy Story?  (I actually started headcanoning that Toy Story got him into cowboys, and put together a fic on that.)

Not sure where the term “space cowboy” originated, or what Clover’s actually referring to when they say it about Star, but the first use of that phrase that I’m finding is a Steve Miller song from 1969 (referenced later in Steve Miller’s “The Joker” from 1973, the line that a lot of people associate with Steve Miller: “some people call me the space cowboy, some call me the gangster of love”).  The phrase has been used numerous times in multiple ways since then.

Seems like Star sewed his own outfit.

Other Thoughts

Picked “no” when Star asked if monsters die when you ride them into the sun cuz I thought the whole town would converge upon me, heh.

Was honestly surprised that the dummy finally showed up.  This was the first time I tried using the FIGHT option, and it turned out to be rather difficult.  I am not looking forward to Neutral or Genocide.

Star tells Ceroba we’re as good of a shot as him, and she goes, “Really?  A child?”  Still not entirely sure whether she’s poking a bit of fun at Star, but I don’t think she is.  Star doesn’t take any offense to her comment for himself, and her sprite when she speaks next, saying she’s “impressed,” looks extremely surprised.  (In all fairness, despite Blackjack’s claims, Star actually is really good.)

I suck at them all, but the mini-games in UTY are all so fun.

Love the change-up to the battle animation during Feisty Four’s attack, how they switch between characters and even team up.

“A tumbleweed rolls by.  It says hello.”  Well, why not?  I mean, the rocks and cacti are sentient.

The first mention of Kanako at The Lab had me in tears, because, like… we KNOW what happened to her.

Steamworks

Questions

“The Steamworks was the main power source of the Underground.”  This statement confuses the timeline a bit for me.  The Core is now the main power source of the Underground, but my understanding is that the Steamworks was operational long after Gaster died.

I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT LAST AWARD ON THE WALL SAYS.

Does the story change at all depending on what parts you use for Axis’ gf?  (Also, I wonder how many of us just picked up the first 2 or 3 items and then realized there’s way more than 4 items to choose from and wished Ceroba would let us start over.)

Is there a way to fix the grandfather clock?

Does the grandfather clock say something different if the time on your PC actually is 6:26 on a Monday morning in spring?

Observations

Ceroba telling Clover to wait in the corner, kinda refers back to her doubting that a child could be as good of a shot as Star.  She has very little respect for Clover at this point.  Not entirely sure if it’s just because Clover’s a human, or if it’s also because they’re just a kid.

Don’t think I missed Flowey’s comment about The Lab.  He clearly does NOT want us to go there.

Ceroba must have some kind of dimensional satchel, herself.  I don’t see how else she can carry the hunkajunk we built (not to mention pulling her staff out of hammerspace).

BTW, “dihydrogen monoxide” is just water.  Vendy probably just called it that to make it sound poisonous.

Vendy said their last boot up was yesterday and that their creator always comes by on Mondays to restock them.  Sadly, the grandfather clock is stuck on 6:26, Monday morning.  Kinda feel sorry for Vendy.

Guardener is actually nice.  She even grows a flower just for the bot that came late.

Telly-Vis starts using the bullet patterns of other monsters during the “reruns” portion of the fight.

You can cheat on the Axis fight if you have the silver scarf.  Just deliberately miss Axis when you ping-pong the red balls for enough turns to heal up.

I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m guessing that Ceroba would get mad and ditch you if you kill one of the robots, turning the run into a Neutral.

Other Thoughts

Screw those water puzzles at the start of Steamworks.

DAT MUSIC, THO.

I’m not gonna try to discuss Ceroba’s growing respect for us.  That needs a whole analysis post of its own.  (Well, everything about Ceroba needs its own analysis.)

Axis rolled in and I was like, “Oh, no, another one.”  Seems like we just keep running into these darned toaster ovens on wheels.

Axis music is fire, tho, all of it.

I swear I hear some DR inspirations in the music.  Haven’t learned the names for all the tracks yet, but at one point I thought I heard Digital Roots (when Ceroba’s fiddling with the generator) and at another I thought I heard Card Castle (the room where you build Axis’ gf).

A game mechanic I love: Ceroba’s shield effect (well, as long as it’s shielding Clover).

A mechanic I hate: Jandroid’s slippery floors.

I also love the manta ray ferryboat.

Mo’s level of professionalism is off-the-charts.  He ain’t about to let a little thing like his clothes and his stand catching fire ruin a sales pitch.

Being a Christian, I’m not going to share what I really think of the Axis chase.

Loved seeing the return of popato chisps.

I swear, I thought all that white stuff was monster dust at first.  Walked into the Science Division and nearly burst into tears.

I hope somebody finally has chance to either fix Guardener or shut her down properly once they reach the surface.

Conveyor belt puzzle caused me trouble because I kept trying to box up trash.  Took me a while to realize “red” and “blue” referred to the highlights around the objects.

I’ll talk more in depth later, but I love how Clover has this calming effect on Ceroba when she’s chewing out the productivity bot.

Believe it or not, I didn’t get caught by Axis in the fireplace room!  Go me!  (Actually, it’s really not that hard….)

Still not entirely sure what I think of Axis deliberately handing us a “weapon” just to give himself an excuse to attack us.

I’ve said this before: he took me an hour and a half to fight the first time.  I really hate the mechanics in his boss fight.  And it was especially humiliating for me because I’d only died, maybe, 3 or 4 times before him.  Didn’t have any trouble with Starlo, and while I never did get the hang of Bailey’s fight, I think I only died to him once.  Guardener was responsible for the other deaths.

I love how Ceroba’s been insulting the Steamworks the whole time, but I don’t think she ever insults Axis.  That was her late husband’s baby.  And then she even gives him tips on dating.

Ceroba finally respects us after the Axis fight.  It takes remembering why she needs us for her to be able to press on with her mission.

Chujin’s House

Questions

Woodworking, robotics, SOUL research, video game designer, loving husband and father- I know Chujin was kinda old, but how DID he find time for all this???

Marty finds Kanako’s room to be unsettling.  Not sure why.

Clover doesn’t like the gas stove and worries it will cause a housefire.  I’ve wondered before whether they came from an orphanage.  Did they lose their family in a fire?

“The Founder’s Crest.”  Who are the Founders?  Founders of what?  Or is this just a reference to something I’m not familiar with?  (Possibly something in Japanese culture?)

Was Chujin actually that much older than Ceroba?  Or did he just age rapidly because of his research?  If boss monsters only age when they have children, how could he have become so old before marrying Ceroba… unless he’d already had, and lost, one child before?

I’ve been told there’s a secret behind Chujin’s grave.  Will have to check it out the next time I do a Pacifist run.

Observations

Strange that Ed found the trapdoor so easily when Ceroba didn’t know about it until Chujin told her.  Ceroba must not have covered it up properly before locking up the house.  Possibly also Chujin somehow arranged it with her that he would be the one cleaning the dining room.

I feel like Moray’s the smartest one of the Four.  They knew it was a good idea to send for Marty.

And THIS is where Marty gets smart.  She takes charge in Star’s absence.  The Four listen to her, even Ed (reluctantly).  And SHE’s the one telling us to stay on track.

(Ok, she’s still a bit naïve- she doesn’t seem to consider that Chujin’s paper with her name is actually ABOUT her.)

The drawings on Kanako’s bedroom wall: Dalv, the monster on the Dunes swingset, her family… and a flower?  Well, I mean… a lot of little kids like to draw flowers, so that might not be anything.  Also a drawing of what looks like Axis lying on the floor.

“Nuh-uh!  Kids shouldn’t mess with knives!”  Nice little reference there, dev team.

And, of course, it’s Flowey who makes light of Ceroba’s mission, calling it a “science fair project.”  Well.  He has every right to say whatever he likes about SOUL research.  Doesn’t he.

Of course, we didn’t get Star’s letter in time because Ceroba wouldn’t let us check the mail.  But I highly doubt she planned it that way, as she had no idea the Five would be snooping around her old house.

Other Thoughts

Starlo is so. completely. PISSED.  And… uh, he has a right to be.  Like, she’s doing a lot of what he just did- lying and scheming and using Clover to fix her own problems (those two are a match set, I swear….)  And he’s torn.  These are his two friends, Clover being the human he practically worshipped, and Ceroba being one of his closest friends (not to mention the love of his life, but I digress).  He doesn’t want anything to happen to her, but he can’t let Clover get hurt, either.

The fact that Moray sent for Marty as soon as learning that Clover was in danger just seals in the idea that Marty is part of the family.

…how long has that corn chowder been in that fridge, anyway???

I’ve already discussed my thoughts about Chujin in other posts, a lot of them still in queue.

Hotlands

Questions

Kinda wonder what could’ve made Clover suspicious about the wall to the left of the UG Apartments.

Never did figure out where the “rain” was coming from.  I figure it’s just a leaky sink upstairs or something.  (I’d thought at first it was from the janitor cleaning the hallway, but that’s on the other side of the building.)

Observations

I’m sure everyone recognized it, but in case someone didn’t, Bailey’s in the colored tile room.

I think Muffet herself blocked the way thru Hotland, renovating for her pastry shop.

Mr. Cursor mentions a 10-sided die.  They have some version of D&D in the Underground.  Probably more like… idk, Houses and Humans?

Working for Mettaton must have taken quite a toll on the janitor.  He doesn’t look nearly so tired or decrepit here.

There was a flier on the bulletin board in the Wild East that was advertising the acts at the UG Apartments.  The band we saw in Honeydew Resort has a gig at the Apartments on Fridays.  So, this game- or at least by the time we reach Hotland- is on a Friday.

Other Thoughts

The monster candy is butterscotch-flavored.  *nods*  Of course, what else would it be?

Poor Heats.  Defeateeeeeeeeed again….

Star can actually survive drinking magma.  I’ve got headcanons about this boiling in my brain….

I thought Know Cone said he was just gonna look at Hotland from a mountaintop…?

New Home/Pacifist Ending

Questions

If there’s an elevator leading to the castle, I’m guessing that means at least one of the other endings has us actually fight Asgore.

How exactly does Kanako’s mask give Ceroba superpowers?  I feel like it might be a reference to Japanese mythology, but I know very, very little about Japanese mythology.

How exactly does Clover have the ability to see into Ceroba’s memories?

I kinda hate myself for asking, but… what happens if you choose FIGHT after you beat Ceroba?

Observations

Star is the one asking Ceroba if she’s gonna kill them all because while he doesn’t know all the details, he recognizes the headspace she’s in.

Other Thoughts

Not only am I thrilled to finally get to explore some of New Home, I’m absolutely in love with the design and the music.

I think when Ceroba says she lied about Kanako, she’s not saying she lied about Kanako falling down, or about sending her to the lab.  She lied about having any hope that Kanako would return safely.

How the heck do frikkin’ cherry blossom petals have so much attack power???

The dash mechanic took me time to learn, but if Toby ever decides to steal from Yellow, I hope he steals this :P

My reactions to Ceroba’s plan: “But Chujin specifically begged you NOT to use Kanako!  How do you think you’re honoring his memory by going against his final wish?!”  “Oh, I see, finishing the serum was his death wish.  That’s still no excuse to use your own daughter, tho.”  And finally: “…oh…”

I tried to get thru the game without cheats (except for being on easy mode) but I did have to turn on auto-fire for Ceroba’s final phase.

[yaravella]

More Than Anything pt. 1 - Gepard Landau

Gepard Landau x Reader // pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warning: angst, unrequited love, modern au

Synopsis: One day Serval brought you home and you have been a part of Gepard's life ever since. When he discovered he had feelings for you, it seemed it was too late.

Masterlist

[Greeting to everyone who read this. I've been really excited to write about Gepard lately, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing this. English is not my first language so don't hesitate to correct me if I made mistakes. Feel free to request or talk to me through the message, comment, or ask box!]

---

Gepard didn’t remember the first time he met you. Probably in his freshman year in high school, when Serval brought you home for the first time to hang out in her studio. He just remembered he saw you awfully a lot since then. Singing to Serval’s off-tune guitar melody, eating cereal while writing lyrics on the kitchen bar, saying “Hiiiii, Gepard” in a sing-song voice whenever you saw him. 

Not gonna lie, he didn’t find you lingering around the house to be pleasant at first. If you’re over, the house would be blasting with deafening music that he didn’t get where the hell is the enjoyable part from them? And you sing almost everywhere, dear God. It’s not like you have a bad voice, but should you sing everywhere??? It didn’t help that if you saw him, your eyes lit up and you immediately danced, seemingly to tease him. So annoying.

Yet, that's how you become familiar. He didn’t mind you singing around the house anymore. Sometimes, he even joined, humming softly to your melody. He found himself hanging around the kitchen island every time you were there writing lyrics, giving you his thought and opinion about it. Sometimes he asks for a piece of paper from you, drawing you.

"Oh, Picasso~" you said teasingly, "The resemblance is uncanny."

He knew you were kidding, but it made him feel happy. If he doesn't feel like doing anything, he will be just admiring you while you’re writing. Art is creating a piece of art. How’s that possible? 

You’re one thing that he wonders about whenever class finished. Are you going to be there when he comes home? Are you gonna sing along to your deafening music, that he comes to like too, and dance for him today? Are you gonna greet him with your bright eyes? 

Sometimes he caught himself smiling at the thought of you. Does he have feelings for you? Maybe. You are beautiful, smart, and charming. And you treated him nicely. He thought it was only normal if he felt something toward you. But it’s nothing serious. Though he didn’t really know which category should he put you in. Crush? Well, he’s a guy. He also felt things to some girls at school, went on dates several times with them. Any relationship he had with them is short-lived though.  Did he want to date you? But that might ruin this comfortable bubble he has with you, right? He didn’t want that. He wanted to be close to you, and he’s okay with whatever he had with you right now.  And it has been years since you're around. He didn't want to risk anything.

If only he’s good with music, he’d follow you along to major in music. But he thought artistic traits only ran through Serval’s blood in the family, so he’s fine to enter the same university as you. This is a silly crush, nothing more, anyway. It would be nice to see you in the same class as him though. But seeing you greeting him in his house is enough. Dancing and singing to your silly music. 

However, he rather wishes you didn’t come today. 

When he arrived home, he was greeted by heavy metal music blaring in the room. A bunch of people lounged around the living room area, seemingly too busy talking or jamming to the music to notice him.

And you are there too, singing and bobbing your hair left and right to the music. Looking so beautiful as your hair goes wild swaying here and there following the rhythm. Looking so beautiful with a man draping his arm around your shoulder. 

“Ah, you’re home already, Gepard?” he didn’t even realize that his sister was also there, sitting opposite you. Everyone’s eyes were immediately on him. Including you. He felt like a deer caught in the headlight. He didn’t even care about the other people that surround the table. His eyes immediately found yours, which lit up when they met.

“Hiii, Gepard~” Oh, aren’t you so cold? Calling him with that sing-song voice with a man around you. 

He tries to ignore the tightened feeling around the pit of his stomach as much as he tries to ignore the gaze of the dark-haired man beside you. His eyes travel to your hand which rests on top of the guy’s thigh. Your boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend? 

Gepard just nodded his head as an answer to both his sister’s question and your greeting. He’s trying really hard to mask the upsetting feeling that rapidly built up inside his chest. Disappointment? Anger? Or this is jealousy, perhaps? 

He doesn’t waste one more second to be there and immediately walks to his room. Hopefully, no one notices his weird behavior. Hopefully, you don’t notice it. 

But slowly that day he noticed something. You are more than a silly crush he had just to fill his adolescence experience. You are more than a familiarity that greets him whenever he was home. You are more than the song he constantly hears. You are more.

Feeling defeated, he dropped his body to his bed. Now that he realizes you are more than everything he thought you are, it feels like it’s too late.

[just-a-carrot]

Obligatory every now and then "thank you for making the games that you do" ask 😌 it is so rare to see queer and mental health representation as honest and in-depth as your games. A big reason I spend a lot of my time making whacky little OW drawings is because it always just brightens my mood, being able to draw little guys who are like me in a way a lot of ways I just don't see expressed often. As someone who is Rather Disabled and Rather Queer, it's nice to just... have games where being those things is okay. Seeing nonbinary representation as honest and open as Gidget honestly made me tear up when I saw it. As someone who has Been Through That Stuff (in places that were-- and probably still are-- life-threatening to be seen as queer), I felt so seen by them and what they've been through. (I also forgot to mention but I did get the Gidget haircut eventually 😌 gender/10) ANYWAYS. Sorry if this ask got too Personal or anything I am a horrible judge of stuff like that 😅 but I did want to say thanks. (Also while I'm at it, thanks for answering the many asks I send about incredibly random topics related to the blorbos. I get very anxious about sending them so I don't half the time [nothing to do with anyone, I am just Anxiety: The Rabbit], but for the times I do, thank you for entertaining the asks even if they are utterly ridiculous most of the time haha. (And thanks for the help/feedback on dev-related stuff too, it's appreciated 😌 the comment left on TRJ still brightens my day whenever I think about it because I thought while making it that no one would enjoy it... but receiving that shortly after publishing it assuaged my fears by quite a bit so I'd just like to say thanks for that too. (...Whoops I think I have made a message Utterly Too Long but I hope it gets the points across??? Maybe??? Hopefully???)

weep this is incredibly sweet???? 😭💕

it literally brings me the utmost joy when people can see parts of themselves in my chars or relate to my char at all or feel seen, etc. also because a big part of this game is based on my own experiences and struggles so it helps ME feel seen when OTHERS also feel seen because then we can all relate together and maybe feel a little less alone in the experiences we've gone through in life

LKDJALFKDSFADF PLEASE DON'T EVER BE ANXIOUS ABOUT SENDING IN ASKS I LITERALLY LOVE RESPONDING TO THEM????? (tho i get it it would probably make me anxious too now matter how many times someone said that LOL) but fr i love going through my ask box and answering silly little questions. especially lately my anxiety's been cranked up to 11 so getting to distract myself with silliness is oftentimes a lovely godsend 💕

AND OFC 🥺 i always want to help in any way i can and also just spread love as much as i can. being a dev in general can feel so isolating, especially when we're neck-deep in deeply personal projects that take a lot out of us to work on (no matter how much we love them lakdfad). it helps knowing we've got others out there that can support us and have our backs and a little community of small devs that can relate to each others' issues and boost each other up

LDKJFALDFKA DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT thank you so much for this sweet message!! i got a bit teary-eyed reading it sob 😭💕

[bihansthot]

I’m probably not going to be around much today lovelies, as I mentioned earlier in the week it’s the 25th anniversary of my heart transplant and ngl it’s weird. I’m in a weird place today, I’m trying really hard not to be sad or upset or think about how traumatic that night was. I don’t remember a lot about the night but I remember the phone ringing late at night maybe just after midnight and I remember going into my parents bedroom, they didn’t have to come get me, and I said “it’s time”, I just knew it as soon as I heard the phone and they confirmed it and we relatively calmly got our stuff and drove to the hospital. I had no idea what I was getting into and had I known, I would have not reacted as calmly as I did. I remember they had to draw blood before the procedure to use during the operation, I remember it taking over 25 attempts to get all the blood they needed and I was sobbing, I was in so much pain and I absolutely hated getting my blood drawn as a kid and while 14 isn’t exactly a little kid anymore it’s certainly not an adult either. I still remember the nurse who was there with us, she had a very distinct, raspy voice despite being quite young and to this day people with that type of voice bring back this very unpleasant memory. I don’t remember anything after the blood draw, they give you medication to help you forget traumatic operations and it doesn’t get much more traumatic than a heart transplant. I don’t really remember much of recovery either, I do remember how painful it was when they made me walk though. I wanted to go home and they said I had to walk to the end of the hall to go home and if I couldn’t do it they would keep me at the hospital another day. You better believe I dragged all my various IVs and monitors down that hallway in an instant. My incision was bleeding afterwards and I felt like I was going to collapse but I held that shit together like the stubborn ass I am and gave them a smile and told them it was nothing and I was ready to go. Shockingly they didn’t notice the bloody incision or my clear exhaustion and I was allowed to go home after only 7 days which at the time was a record. The weeks and months that followed were absolute agony, a heart transplant is a ridiculously painful procedure the only time I’ve ever been in more physical pain is when I threw up from my painkillers after having my tricuspid valve replaced 10 years ago. It was awful, I couldn’t even wash myself, I had to have my mother give me a bath like I was a five year old and that was humiliating but I couldn’t do anything about it, it was just too painful to move my arms to wash myself when my whole sternum had been ripped open and was now held together by twist ties and super glue. Then there was the near constant pain from the weekly biopsies to check for rejection, they basically jam a catheter into your neck and then rip little chunks of your heart out to check to make sure your body isn’t rejecting the organ. On top of all that I gained so much weight from the medications and steroids I was on and my mother was an absolute monster about it. We had a very bad very toxic relationship during this time, she ridiculed me constantly but I depended on her for so much that I couldn’t do anything about it. I was so miserable and wanted nothing more than to die. I don’t want to get to into it though but it was really hard so trying to think positively about today is really difficult but on the positive side of things I’m still here. I made it through all that hardship, all that struggle, all that physical and mental anguish. I survived. For 25 years I have survived and while everyday hasn’t been easy, I didn’t give up. I guess I deserve to celebrate that at least even if I don’t like dwelling on all the misery I’ve endured. So, happy anniversary me, you’ve done the best you could and deserve a nice celebration. I know a lot of you lovelies aren’t going to read this but if you do, thank you, I appreciate you taking the time to get to know me outside of being a horny Bi-Han fangirl. 💙

[gal-palanaeum]

Warmth by Thirstspren

Rated General, 1000 words, Akane/Yumi Yumi settles into her new life and begins to realize there's something missing.

Turns out, running a restaurant was a lot harder than it looked.  Especially when the head server wasn’t great at talking to people, the head chef had only been cooking for a single week, and all the financials existed solely in the brain of a person who was no longer on the same planet.  

(If Design even had a brain.  Yumi still didn’t know what that strange woman was, nor did her old assistants, who had thankfully stayed on to prevent complete disaster.  Except the one who’d fled when the old coatrack had come to life.  Putting up with Design’s oddities had been one thing, but no job was worth putting up with that, he’d said.)

Worse, Painter’s role in saving the city had made him a minor local celebrity, drawing thronging crowds and massive scrutiny, and a clumsy business operation coupled with furious demand was a recipe for failure.  Both feared that all their admiration would last only as long as their patience for late, cold noodles. 

“These (lowly) customers,” Painter groused one night after closing, as they stacked chairs on the tables for sweeping.  “Please tell me I was never this infuriating.”

Yumi balanced a chair on one leg.  “I may no longer be a yoki-hijo, but that has not changed my position on lying,” she said.

Painter laughed, then leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.  The chair toppled.

He winced apologetically and put the chair back the normal inverted way.  “I’m just saying.  I’m an artist.  Why did Design think I’d know how to wait tables?”

Yumi nodded in sympathy.  They both knew he’d get better with practice, but that didn’t ease his frustration in the time being.  

In comparison, she felt a little guilty at how quickly she was improving in her new role.  

They maintained separate residences, because neither felt ready to move in together.  Ironically, sharing a body did not prepare them for sharing an apartment.  Neither could be comfortable at the other’s preferred temperature, for a start.  Fortunately, all the former nightmare painters had been permitted to keep their free housing for a year to ease their transition into a radically changing labor market, and Yumi took over Design’s former quarters in the back of the restaurant, so they didn’t have to worry about rent.

Each night, after they closed, she practiced for long hours, basking in the residual warmth of boiling broth, measuring out herbs and spices and other ingredients until she knew the look and weight of them intuitively, and she could reach for each ingredient without conscious thought.  Meanwhile Painter walked home every night, watching the walls come to life with extraordinary murals commissioned by the government to create work for the unemployed artists.  Artists who weren’t him.   He’d finally gotten his love of painting back, just in time to lose his calling.  Then they’d sleep separately, and in the morning, they’d unite for breakfast and watch a couple shows on the hion viewer at Painter’s apartment.  Yumi would cocoon herself in blankets, and Painter would do his best to snuggle her from the outside.  

It was nice.  But part of her felt like something was missing.  She no longer felt that sizzle of energy when they touched, for starters.  That had been about their condition, she discovered—it hadn’t been about them.  Without the fate of both worlds hanging in the balance and a spirit artificially connecting their souls, Yumi feared she and Painter were falling out of sync.  Like a stone that refused to balance on one side, and needed a different orientation.

Keep reading

[connisk]

(Fanfic that I really like by @kitsunefyuu )(strongly recommend)

Something about this mental image of AFO dressing izuku in fancy clothes, like very dear doll, just stuck with me. And I felt like drawing a few of the more feminine outfits since every one of them has some kind of meaning to the story.

The first more feminine outfit was the one izuku chose specifically when he tried to convince his father to let him go to UA.

"Dad, I want to go back to a real school and make actual friends," Izuku spoke bluntly. Trying his damn hardest to keep himself calm as he asks, and had even prepared himself with his dads favorite outfit. It was a traditional green Hanfu dress with flowers. More than aware it is for women, but it isn't as if it matters in a home where the only company he's allowed is his father.

Absolutely creepy, but in sweet way. As he doesn't care about what he supposed to be wearing and enjoys everything, but at the same time trying to persuade his father to what he wants with it.

The second outfit I drew was the black dress he wore when he accidentally met his childhood friend. And it escalated quickly to the worst

Maybe Izuku was desperate for some kind of recognition. To gather a fraction of the past that his father took him away from after all these years. That he dug far back to that nickname he hated even if didn’t want to say that name as Kacchan was about to leave, “How about Deku?”

Now that seemed to trigger something and a curiously amused expression showed on Bakugou’s face. The recognition sparked in his eyes as a loud hum escaped him.

“Oh yeah! Deku must explain why you look like a weird doll,” Katsuki said with amusement.

Izuku felt a stab in his chest at the other words.

This happened right after izuku ran away from his dinner with his father. Naturally he was wearing a dress. I can't find the exact quote but I remember it being described as dress with a ribbon. Maybe it was just my imagination, but izuku wearing a dress and looks like a doll, Plus kachan recognizing him by his old nickname just felt very symbolic. Like Deku will never be more than just a doll for others.

The last image, and the one I liked the most was izuku wearing his school uniform.

"Dad! Can you grab me my uniform!?"

(...)

Izuku doesn't even check what the man brought feeling pretty good right now. Though clearly, he was going to end up late so he just throws it on.

(...)

"Sorry he's just- Well he's excited I have a friend," Izuku noted only to realize Shoto was looking at him up and down. "What? Is something wrong?" Ugh, did he not put on enough makeup? Did he put the uniform on and mess up his hair? Izuku felt nervous at his friend's suddenly very critical gaze wondering if he needs to run back home to fix up-

"You look nice,"

(...)

Though when he arrived at the school Izuku felt like he was getting a LOT more looks than normal. To the point if he was honest he kind of felt almost anxious about it as while attention can be nice it felt more like they were weirded out. Wondering why that is the case, he worked hard on his appearance! Even Shoto said he looked nice, did he miss something? "Hey do I look weird?" Izuku questioned wondering why people were staring knowing his friend would be honest. Shoto glanced around a bit then back at him in confusion before a light bulb seemed to register. Those eyes light up as he finally decides to answer the question.

"Probably because you're wearing the girl uniform?" Shoto questioned. As if he hadn't just revealed the most horrifying thing Izuku could have done. The innocent way his best friend didn't even think to point out the uniform was for a girl.

The betrayal izuku felt. For his father it was simply a joke. For izuku it was world shattering. How he took izuku's trust and played with it.

Shoto, with his pure heart didn't question it.

I reason chose to give izuku white hair even when he supposed to still have his green is because he's under his father's manipulation. From the moment his mother died his father was everything to him and he was everything for hisashi.

And still, he plays with izuku's life like he's some kind of doll. Just because he doesn't see a problem with it. But for izuku it affects everything.

[hotluncheddie]

hiiiii <3 feel free to ignore but i’d just wanna hear your thoughts!

i’m just curious about your opinions on an aceflux eddie? this is a lot of self projecting, but eddie could be aceflux to me because of trauma. i think eddie’s would stem from trying to hook up with people and him having to explain to them what he is (trans), then they give him this face of disgust and they’re out. or men fetishizing him being trans so eddie freezes up and panics when something is ramping up.

-🦇

hello my lovely 🦇 anon!!!

i have a couple ideas about this!!! its more in the direction of fluctuating sexual desire though if that's okay? more so than gender just because im not sure i can properly verbalise that part of this eddie, not the way it would deserve <3

but i rly love this ask bc while im very into many iterations of eddie - dom, sub, top, bottom, virgin whatever - i also really love eddie who just kind of doesn't care about that stuff. like, he has so many other things hes doing and focusing on, which means those aspects of like, life or those relationships, whatever, that seem so important in highschool, he just doesn't really care about. or doesn’t most of the time. so maybe late bloomer but ace flux is a really nice term too.

because to me that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be close to people, he does, and that’s where the angst comes in. because he doesn't always know how, how to do it the way he wants, in a way that feels right. he knows what happens in films when guys and girls get close. and he knows he shouldn’t want to get close to guys romantically but sometimes he scares himself because he thinks he does. think he wants that, wants to hold a guys hand.

he doesn't fantasise about sex in class, he doesn't imagine anyone naked, doesn’t really join in when his friends talk about crushes, stating something about conformity and ‘no one for him in a small town like this’, if anyone asks him.

but secretly, he just wants to feel close. feel loved. he doesn’t get crushes but he knows he wants that.

mostly he just thinks about his music, his friends, his campaigns and he’s content with that. he focuses on that.

but there have been people, to draw him out. a girl in elementary school, who was so smart and funny and he loved being her friend. but then in the corner of the playground she kissed him one day, suddenly, to eddie. and he could taste the juice she had a lunch but he hates grape so he wiped his mouth and made a face. she got mad, and didn’t talk to him again.

and the boy who lived at the trailer park one summer, visiting his grandma. they saw each other basically every day, listened to tapes and exploring the woods. eddie’s hair was just starting to really grow out and he’d been living with wayne for a while. the boy said he likes it, his hair, reminded him of a girl. and eddie liked the boy too, liked that he said that, even though it scared him. but then he moved too quick, tongue and teeth and a spitty hand on them both. and then he left, didn’t come see eddie the couple days before he was gone. and eddie was reeling, he didn’t know what he liked, what he didn’t. he was confused, felt wrong.

maybe there was one guy, once he got older, when he knew that he should want to do all this stuff, should feel the need to get off and want to get off with people. some comment making him self conscious, about him not caring about it, thinking it wasn’t normal, he should want it. so he followed this guy into the hideout bathroom. but the moment they were close he didn’t want it anymore, didn’t feel right. but the guy didn’t listen, happy not to touch eddie too much but got off still with eddie there, when he’d rather be anywhere else.

just eddie having a sort of trauma, over the years, from how people have touched him, have talked to him. have seemed to want him around but then gone cold and distant. hadn’t asked what he wanted and just took, just used, just needed and wanted and didn’t give him a chance to think, to breath.

and then the bats nearly eat him alive.

but he survives, some how. stuck in hospital, wayne by his side when he can. steve by his side even more, just because, he’s not sure why. but it’s nice. steve’s nice. steve lets eddie think and breath before he talks, before he moves, lets eddie take his time.

and then maybe he does want to kiss steve, sometimes when they touch something stirrs in his belly, his fingertips tingle. but, its not all the time, not always.

and on the occasion he does feel like sticking his hand into his boxers, the rare times that feels right. it’s almost easy to think about steve’s hand and steve’s lips and steve’s kind words.

and then they do kiss. one night, on steve couch. and eddie feels something light up in him, something new and special. a warm ember.

but the second time they kiss its not like that, he loves the closeness, but, he doest want to do anything more. he just wants to hug. but will that be enough for steve? can eddie be enough?

<3

(i hope that like, makes sense lol. i figured it was long enough without going into more steddie stuff hehe. hope u like, mwah!)

[intrepidacious]

every dream gone

summary: After the events of Winter Soldier, Bucky slowly realizes just how much he lost after his fall.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: bucky being sad; vague mentions of brainwashing and a whole lot of guilt; don't look for a happy ending with this one folks (i'm sorry 🥲)

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i started writing this fic back in september and it took me until now to gather the emotional willpower to finish it. blame this song that inspired the whole thing.

masterlist | read on ao3

It took Bucky a while to remember you, after everything, but he did.

The first memory came back while he was on the run. He'd been in Europe for a while by then, sleeping in freight cars, never staying anywhere for longer than a week, trying to keep a low profile while both HYDRA and Steve were still frantically looking for him everywhere. Those early days were the worst.

He spent most of his time on trains and tried to figure out why he hated it so much.

Being in England calmed him a bit. It was nice getting used to hearing people speak English around him again, and not in a tone that commanded obedience.

He didn't have much to go off, just scattered memories that didn't quite seem to fit together. There was always something off about them, something like the taste of metal where it shouldn't be. This time, the fragments led him to a flea market.

There were only a handful of people dotted in between the stands, which was probably for the best. His long sleeves usually attracted some curious glances this late into July.

He didn't exactly have money to spare for knick-knacks or secondhand souvenirs, but his feet carried him straight to one stand in particular, without him even realizing. His fingertips grazed along the spines of old paperbacks that were lined up like soldiers, but Bucky didn't spare them more than a glance.

He stopped at the next table over, a small frown on his face.

"Look at all those colors, Buck!"

Pastels and acrylics, steel nib fountain pens and piles of hand-bound sketchbooks. The woman selling them looked up from her novel when he didn't move for a whole minute, his eyes fixed on the notebooks.

"You can pick 'em up if you can't decide, you know," she said.

He nodded, blinked, almost embarrassed at the way his fingers shook as he picked up one of the books. It was bound in blue linen, and the deckle edged pages stuck to his gloves.

"You draw?" the woman asked, in a way that was more politeness than actual interest.

"My friend did," Bucky found himself saying.

Hands covered in charcoal. The smell of paper and something else.

"How dare you!" A laugh, carelessly loud and graceless. The most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "My nose looks nothing like that!"

The memory passed through him softly, almost dreamlike, and for a second, he didn't know whether he wanted to cry or scream. He did neither.

The woman was looking at him strangely, but she accepted the note he handed her for the sketchbook, even though it wasn't Sterling.

"Young man," she called after him, and he almost wanted to laugh. "You're gonna need this, too." And she handed him a pen, as if she'd known, as if there was something in his face that told her how lost he felt.

It was cheap, surely, but it was also the first gift he'd gotten in decades, and so he kept it in his chest pocket. Right above his heart.

***

The next memory came not too long after that.

He was sitting in a rundown coffee shop in Edinburgh, barely paying attention to the room around him while he tried putting his past onto the page. The book was filling so achingly slowly it made him want to throw it against a wall most days.

A good chunk of it was about Steve.

Bucky supposed that was to be expected, because he'd been the one to first make him remember, and because it was Steve.

So page after page was detailing pneumonias and ill-fitting jackets and bruised knuckles in Bucky's narrow writing, trying to piece together a life that should have stayed his. It was desperate work, futile work most days, but he tried anyway.

And then the café owner switched stations on the old, dusty radio in the corner, and there was the song.

It took only a couple of notes until the images struck like lightning.

Swinging skirts and heels clacking on wooden floors. The smell of sweat and hairspray and something else. Something like May bells.

"You're quite good at this, aren't you?" Hands tightening around his neck in the most pleasant embrace.

"Only as good as my partner."

How could a simple hum sound so content? "And I ain't exactly called Rogers, either. But you’re the one leading."

"And thank God for both."

A dip, a scream. And that laugh again. He wanted to bottle it up and get drunk on it for the rest of eternity.

When the song ended, Bucky was shaking with it. He'd broken the pen in his hand, and the dark ink smeared all over his palm like black blood.

He didn’t do so well with presents these days.

***

He remembered your name when he heard a mother call out for her child in a park and it stopped him in his tracks because the corners of his mouth started to lift on their own accord. It was like you were muscle memory, your name so deeply ingrained that his body remembered you long before his mind could catch up.

And your name.

Whispered in darkened picture theaters until your skin prickled with goosebumps, shouted across dance halls sweltering with heat, spoken with reverence on dizzying fair rides. Bucky’d said it again, and again, and again, and for so long he couldn’t think of anything sweeter than the taste of it on his tongue.

He tried it out now, and it came out like ash.

The sound of his name on your lips came to him only hours later, because he kept prodding at that part of his mind that kept you hidden from him, kept trying to unlock the gate to his forgotten memories until finally it slid open an inch.

He was trying to make dinner.

He’d not had a warm meal for weeks at that point, but the past few days had been good and he’d bought vanilla extract for pancakes. The sugary smell filled his tiny apartment, but he didn’t even notice at first, not until he opened the window and then turned back to the stove.

“Bucky.”

Like a breath of air that echoed from deep within until it reached him and left him shaken.

He said your name again, called it into the silence of the room. It didn’t answer him.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than going crazy, and so he breathed in again.

“James! It’s almost nine, we’re gonna be late.” Nails drumming against the wood of a dresser. You’d painted it with flowers, purple and blue and yellow. Beautiful.

“And whose fault is that, sweetheart?”

His fingers wrapping around your waist, pulling you close, so young, so human. Your perfume, soft and lingering mist-like between you, and something else. Something like Christmas morning.

Smiles had come so easy to him back then. “I’ve been sittin’ by the door for a good twenty minutes now, waitin’ anxiously for you to finish up.”

“If you’re getting so anxious over me, you needn’t have waited, Buck.”

“I’d wait my whole life if it went you’re comin’ down the stairs, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t noticed he’d slid to the floor, trembling.

The pancakes burned.

***

Your name was so much and yet so little at the same time.

Bucky tried finding any record of you, in libraries, newspaper archives, even using a computer once he figured out how to go online. But you’d been a normal girl, a lovely, perfect, beautiful, normal girl. That had never been enough for the history books.

He had to put you together again himself, slowly. The smallest details took him months.

You would always get holes in your tights and scold him for prodding at them. You used to hate getting your picture taken, but you would benignly let Steve draw you as long as he kept you entertained. You’d liked dancing, and flowers, and sweet things, and somehow, inexplicably, you’d liked him.

“You are the worst date I’ve ever had.”

The taste of whipped cream and chocolate on your lips, and the feeling of your fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. That little sound at the back of your throat.

“You were saying, sweetheart?”

Bucky’s hand balled into a fist. It wasn’t fair.

The worst part was that you were barely more than the memory of a beautiful dream, hazy and blurred. He was well aware he didn’t deserve good things anymore, but these faint half-images collecting in his brain were nothing short of cruel.

"I can't remember her face,” he told the only person who might have understood, because he himself didn’t. “Why can I remember every single person that I had to ...” He trailed off, dragging his hand over his face. “And yet I can't remember her face?"

Steve's hand was on his shoulder, a gesture that should feel comforting in its familiarity. Instead, Bucky had never felt this small in his own skin.

Wrong shoulder.

"I'll see what I can do," Steve said calmly, but there was a helplessness in his voice that made Bucky’s stomach churn.

It wasn’t supposed to spill out of his own eyes.

***

You would have loved Wakandan sunsets.

They were richer, more colorful than the ones Bucky remembered, but maybe that didn’t actually mean much. The beautiful things had a habit of evading him.

Sometimes, he was selfish enough to wish it had stayed that way, because at least in forgetting, he hadn’t known to miss anything at all. Years and decades worth of lack came crashing through to drown him now, more and more frequent, as if they were trying to make up for lost time. Or mocking him.

But you would have loved the sunsets, and so he tried to love them, too, just like he was always meant to do.

“Do you have to leave already?”

A sniff, a petulant sigh, his limbs heavy and warm, but resolve unwavering. He’d fancied himself so smart, then. “You know I do.”

Daybreak kisses that tasted contently like sleep. Slowly untangling his fingers from yours, something cool grazing them.

Steve brought back a small package, and that was all that was left to find of the part of the past that he’d shared with you. A thin stack of official papers, the dog tags he’d worn in Austria, and a ring.

Bucky sat down.

He knew, rationally, that you were long gone even before he saw the official documents. He’d never expected you to wait for him when it had always been the other way around. Still, to read it so plainly was like his insides were being twisted into the tightest knot, and his heart, his carefully guarded heart that had only just started to remember its own rhythm stuttered painfully. Like it was sick of this whole dance, the waiting, the longing for something so out of reach. So lost to time.

He didn’t want this, any of this, but there was nothing he could do but stare and wait for his vision to clear.

“There’s something else,” Steve said, his voice far away like he’d been wrapped in cotton. “Do you remember the house?”

A rickety porch swing and a picket fence that needed bleaching. Thorny rose bushes blooming in all your favorite colors. Two spare rooms.

“Are we going to be hostin’ a lot of guests, then?” That smug little curl of your lip he liked to kiss.

“I hope not.” Arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. Always the same gesture, as familiar as the smell. Vanilla and peonies, and something else. “We could find a more permanent use, don’t you think?”

“She kept it. It’s still there.”

Bucky traced the letters of your name with his thumb as if somehow, somewhere, you might have felt the familiar caress. It looked lonely there, all on its own.

Maybe it was lucky that he’d long run out of screams, because he might have never stopped.

“Thank you,” he said, and even though it didn’t seem sufficient, Steve nodded.

Bucky threaded your ring onto the chain of his dog tags and closed it around his neck before he hid them under his vest, the metal like a ghostly touch over his heart.

***

It took Bucky five more years to make it back to New York. Well. Five more years passed.

He’d lost so many of them it didn’t even seem to matter at this point.

The slip of paper had been kept inside an envelope he’d found between the books in Steve’s apartment, waiting for him, just like he’d said it would. At least some things were still there.

The bus drive took an eternity, but his feet found their way on their own accord. They’d known it well, once, after all.

He thought the hardest part would be to turn around the final corner and see it again, but that wasn’t it. He’d dreaded the drawn shades, the overgrown garden, the withered flowers, the faded paint on the front door. Dreading things made them easier to bare, sometimes, he’d learned that.

No, the hardest part was seeing the sign. Cottage for sale.

And the quiet.

The mailbox was battered from decades of wind and weather, but underneath the rust he could still see the remnants of your handprint, cracked golden yellow on the dark metal. It disappeared under his vibranium fingers.

“See? We left our mark now. We have to stay here forever.”

He found the key still inside. He used to scold you for leaving it so recklessly, but you kept losing every spare you got made, and besides, times were different, then. You knew the neighbors. So did he.

“Don’t forget, it’s Mrs Hopper’s birthday on Wednesday, and you promised to mow her lawn.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And the Sawyers asked if you could take a look at their furnace, because it’s been acting up.”

“You’d think they’d hire a professional for that sorta thing.”

“Maybe you’re just nicer to look at.”

The plot next door had been leveled. The curtains in all the other houses were drawn, even though it was a lovely spring evening.

Bucky’s steps were heavy as he climbed the steps to the red front door. It was like he could hear whispers coming from all sides, his head pounding with the weight of something that was not quite there yet, not quite clear, not quite something.

The key slid into the lock.

“Leave your shoes outside, Buck, you’ll track mud everywhere.”

He almost did.

The first step inside was like going through the looking glass and finding himself in a world so different, and yet so familiar. Because he didn’t recognize the painting on the wall, or the color of the cabinets, or the rug next to the stairs.

But there was that smell. Vanilla and peonies. Something like baking and spring, something like home.

He carefully pulled the door closed behind him, the floorboards softly creaking. Dust billowed.

And then more memories came rushing in, as if they'd been waiting for the moment he crossed the threshold.

"Ready?"

"Yes!" He could feel your cheeks lift in a smile and grinned as he slowly pulled his hands away from your eyes. Could feel the gasp that fell from your lips as you took in the sight in front of you.

"Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding me? I love it!"

“I love you.”

He thought he saw movement just out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was only his own grave reflection staring back at him out of one of the dirty windows. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like the ghosts of the past were surrounding him.

“There you are,” they seemed to say. “What took you so long?”

“Just picking up something sweet for my best girl.”

“This is exactly why I’m gonna marry you.”

“Just that? Really? What about my other qualities?”

“Those I tolerate.”

The plates his ma had given you, the porcellain chipped with decades of use, stacked neatly in the cabinets, gathering dust. Your favorite brass pot was out next to the sink, as if you’d just left it there to dry, intending to use it again in a couple of hours.

In the living room, the horrible curtains your aunt had forced upon you had finally disappeared, and despite everything, Bucky could feel himself smile. The bookshelf was still overflowing.

“We’re gonna run out of space soon, you know that, right?”

“Well, build me a new shelf, then!”

Another promise he’d broken.

He had to go upstairs. He knew it, even though every single cell of his body was screaming at him not to go.

Seventeen steps. The second to last was the one that creaked.

Deciding which door to open first was like choosing his own hell. In the end, the house decided for him, because the wailing behind the one to the far right sounded so alive he almost bolted through the entrance.

It had been locked, and Bucky only realized why when it was already too late.

It was the most desolate room yet, cobwebbed and stale, furniture hidden underneath white linens. A dusty wooden mobile dangled from the ceiling, trembling as the house settled, casting eery shadows over the dirtied green walls.

“Aren’t you a bit overzealous there, love?” He dotted some green on your nose and you shrieked.

“Do you wanna be caught unawares?”

“As far as I know, there’s a bit of a preparation period involved.”

“Hm. Maybe we should just get a head start, then.”

He couldn’t bear it a second time, so he took a lung full of stale air and opened the bedroom door.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Everything smelled like you, had your loving touch on it, had been allowed to live alongside you for all this time when he hadn’t been. The wilted flowers in the vase by the window. A book on the nightstand, your bookmark tucked between the pages because you weren’t quite done with it yet.

You weren’t done yet.

A pair of reading glasses lay on top of it, and Bucky almost laughed because he couldn’t quite picture you wearing them, and then, suddenly, he realized he could picture you, and his hand reached out blindly because he remembered that it was there.

“You know I hate these things.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for a second. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t you want me to have something’a yours to keep me company?”

Your laugh, again, and again. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

The bed creaked softly when he sat down on its edge, the frame shaking in his grip, and hey. There you were.

There was your smile.

It seemed to echo, or maybe he only wished it did.

“I’ll be back so soon, you won’t even notice I’m gone, sweetheart.”

“You better.”

The way you looked at him. Like you really believed him when he told the both of you that everything was going to be fine. That you would be the lucky ones. The exception.

He hated himself for letting you hope, but maybe this was his punishment; to be the one left behind, despite everything.

“I’m sorry,” he must have said, or cried, or screamed, because the house repeated it back to him, over and over.

“I’m sorry.”

And then, there was nothing.

anyone else need a tissue?

thank you so much for reading!! if you liked this, please consider leaving a comment or a reblog, or just come scream at me in my inbox. to see the less heartbreaking rest of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications <3

[gayleafpool]

Talk about Varian

IM ALWAYS READY TO TALK ABOUT THAT LOSER!! get ready

-> one thing i’ve been thinking SO hard about lately is the potential of a lady caine and varian friendship. imagine it. she lost her dad and varian thought he lost his which drove them to seek revenge against and grow to hate the royal family. they both get thrown in prison. and basically forgotten about. A FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN THEM WOULD BE SO FUNNY he would probably think she was soooo cool. wait imagine if they had cells near each other in prison. imagine if she saw the things he went through w andrew in prison and thought hm wow that was insane and fucked up. what if they meet again later on like post s3 and become sorta pals and feel like they can vent their lingering resentment toward royalty w each other and just like. idk talk about all the shit they went through. WHAT THEN HUH

-> related i get so emo about varian repressing his trauma and like, outwardly it seems like he got over everything that happened to him with the blizzard/amber/prison/etc etc but really it was more relief that rapunzel forgave him and was able to free quirin so it felt like everything should be FINE and it would easy to just leave everything in the past so he tries and he thinks he’s getter better and doing well but he’s really getting so much worse and refuses to address or process any of the shit he went through until it all majorly comes crashing down a while later. there are these little signs in the way he behaves like he acts weirdly reckless sometimes and will put himself in bad situations, just starts to exhibit signs of what happened to him. iykyk u know we know. and it’s so hard for him to rationalize this and accept this bc his feelings are so complicated bc he would tell himself that he deserved to be treated that way or even liked it because he was so lonely and desperate for positive attention so there’s this shame and guilt aspect that makes it 10x harder to talk about and AUGHHHHHHH. i could write an essay. this is so important to me. everyone be nice to me about this

-> okay lighter topic. something i always forget about varian is that he’s a good artist like canonically i think that’s so fun. THEREFORE: varian and rapunzel drawing/painting together. ENOUGH SAID!!!!! i love them

wait now i’m thinking more varian and rapunzel thoughts. rapunzel teaching him how to dance. rapunzel being one of the few people who’s happy to sit and listen to him ramble about chemistry n shit cuz she loves learning new things so she’s genuinely interested. they are so <3 IVE ALSO SAID BEFORE that i think varian looooves learning new languages and he’s really good at it and i think rapunzel would be too!! they just end up having lots of common interests

also i refuse to believe varian ever gets taller than her i just cant see it

-> mmfmfmfmfmf varian and ulla thoughts. the fact that they look so similar makes me crazy. i also like to imagine that his hyperactive inquisitive balls to the walls insane personality comes mostly from her too. cute but batshit 🫶🫶 also the anger issues. u know that image that’s like i inherited my mother’s anger yeah thats varian. also the idea that quirin is so protective of varian bc he feels like he couldn’t protect ulla esp when you factor in that varian is basically just a copy of her. WAUGH!!!!! i’m emo.

something something donella seeing hugo start to catch feelings for varian and being like oh so this little shit is EXACTLY like his mother. bc it reminds her of how she loved ulla but could never have her. and it makes her hate varian sooo bad. girl rein in the projection

this has been explosion hour with gayleafpool come again soon

[short-black-diamond]

I'm sorry could I ask for a tonny x reader where they basically just.act like an old married couple because tonny's a literal peepaw..

PEE-

PEEPAW

OH MY GOD

not you already calling him peepaw bro.

Anyways-

Not me having to look up what old married couples do☠

---

Tonny and you acting like an old married couple :]

Since the circus was running on a vehicle, you guys travelled a lot

like, a lot lot

so, you learned many new languages or the basics of them to communicate with the people

as you guys travelled pretty much around the globe, it was still fascinating to see what each new generation was able to create

from bicycles to motorbikes to real cars and also trams...

you bought some jewellr- ok no, Anthonn bought you some jewellry

Tonny purchased a camera

and let me tell you, he took more pictures of you than any other place

what can he say? You're the center of his universe

and that being said, Tonny likes to go with the flow, while you like to do it in the traditional way

you paint

and while he was busy photographing you, you were drawing him

(I think I spelled this wrong⤴)

it was also on those nice and warm summer places, where you guys were on a field, and just...enjoyed everything

away from the drawing, and forward to the culinaries!

with each country and new formed/founded city, you guys were always amazed by all the new food that you got to taste wherever you guys were

to the normal mortals, you guys looked like teenagers who were on a date

but well, since Tonny was a PEEPAW and you were a granny, you guys took your time enjoying things in blissfull slowlyness

whenever you guys would eat breakfast other than the circus, the 'adults' would scold you for coming late to school

you and Tonny had to stifle your laughter one too many times

with each new recipe which you and Tonny would try to replicate in the circus' kitchen, a new memory got made

you were actually surprised that you, nor Tonny or anybody else got Alzheimer's yet

it was truly amazing

you guys also like to go on walks????

why didn't I think of this sooner???

like, just hand in hand, relishing the moment of nature, or watching the real teens run around

poking at each other when you guys saw some fresh couples act shy around each other, reminding you of your earlier days

ah yes, wonderful memories

but you had pity with the children

you had all the time in the world while theirs ended by the drop of a needle

but, you did your best to give them as much advice as possible, even when you got weird looks from them

Tonny frowned sadly upon you consoling a heartbroken girl, a poor man, a child that lost its parents...

he also felt like it wasn't fair

I mean, you guys could live forever in fun and party and doing some acrobatic tricks-

no, he didn't want to think about it

(and i don't want to make this any more angsty)

back to the now, where you and Tonny look at some of the pictures you guys took!

and you were laughing again, something Anthonn cherished very much

"Remember when you fell from the well? Gosh, you were soaked with turf water!"

"...yea...", cue to him looking at you lovingly while you cracked up like a hyena-

and you guys give each other new types of flowers???

everywhere you guys go, and you see a flower shop, it turns into a competition of who can gist the other one a new species of flowers

it's still a draw, after all these decades/or centuries?

(what do old people do else besides that?)

---

Alrighty, let's stop here! I really have no idea what old couples do, cuz all i see them do is go to cafés and walk around?, nothing more.

Anyways, I hope you liked it!

Read you guys in my next post!

[gaysheep]

when you are surrounded by artists all the time it's super easy to...i guess have a lot of pessimism about it

youll identify parts of your craft that you arent as technically skilled as others in but instead of feeling motivated to keep improving you have a permanent feeling of inadequacy or mediocrity

do not shoot down those "whoa you drew that? i cant even draw a stick figure" people theyre very good at reorienting your perspective if you actually engage w them

i doodled an environment with colored pencils in my notebook. ive been dwelling a lot lately on feeling i dont do enough technical work w scenes. but a girl in my program saw it and asked me a bunch of questions abt it

cut so i dont stretch your dash

like she asked me if i had the picture memorized thinking it was a real location and i explained that it was an invented one

and she was really interested in my process bc it was totally foreign to her!

she'd ask if i had an exact image in my head of how it'd look on the paper and i'd say that i had a vague idea of what i wanted to draw, but i drafted the image by blocking where i wanted things to go and refining them as i worked on it. and she said that was really interesting and impressive bc she hadn't been able to imagine how someone would go about making a completely new image.

i had a kinda rough day overall but that was really nice! it reminded me that there are ways that my art is totally unique and it's a skill that's taken me a really long time to develop. i felt proud of my process itself and how i've found my own way of tackling creating something independently of the end result. no one else can inhabit my head and make something exactly the way i would.

related but it's been nice to do art just for the sake of doing art during the day. i started doodling to focus during lecture sessions but ive been having fun experimenting and im really really enjoying the process of working an image on paper in a way i havent in awhile because it's totally pressure-free. i am drawing on cheap lined notebook paper with crayola pencils none of these are portfolio pieces im drawing because i enjoy it and it helps the day along a lot

[crystalelemental]

Sync Pair Retrospective - SC Teatime

It's a bit late, but I kinda fell off of doing these retrospectives for a while when I felt like I didn't have much to say at one point.  But, I’d like to get back to it, and that means there’s catching up to do.  So, let’s start with what’s still up: Special Costume Teatime.

SC LILLIE Upon arrival, Lillie was generally cited as the best of the four.  In some ways, she's a direct upgrade over SC Jasmine from six months prior.   Similar buffing kit, but generally stronger tools.  While Jasmine had special defense drops, Lillie had a 60% flinch rate.  While Jasmine has Gradual Healing, Lillie had passive team healing every time she took a hit, and Potion.  By their first sync, Jasmine had +5 Sp Atk, +6 Sp Def, and +3 crit, while Lillie has +6 Sp Atk and +3 crit.  The decision between them was, for most, in Lillie's favor.  I will always advocate for my girl Jasmine though, and insist that the special bulk and application of Safety Net on sync mattered.  But...yeah, Lillie was largely better.

The drawback of Lillie is that without her full grid, she's actually kinda terrible. Without All Ramped Up and Crit Squad on her trainer move, she can't buff special attack to cap, and takes a separate three turns for crit rate.  Jasmine suffers similarly, but not as severely.  Even with full grid, SC Lillie is...messy. She can't get much of what she wants in a single grid, and has to make difficult concessions regarding what to take.  Jasmine's is immaculate, with nothing wasted and nothing missed.  So I do feel like it was a bit more even than people made it out to be.

Of course, they both get blasted two months later as SS Kris waltzes in.   Seriously, how do you compete with that?  Kris did everything they did, but tossed in Special Moves Up Next for good measure.  Oh, and the whole Rain thing that made her unchallenged in an entire archetype.  Kinda hard to keep pace with that.  Jasmine, I feel, got entirely bodied by Kris.  Kris handled everything except special defense drops, and had an actual physical defense stat.  Lillie managed to keep up in part due to higher flinch rate, being the faster draw, and not needing first sync.   Jasmine wanted sync for Safety Net.  Kris needed it for MP Burst.   Lillie...could ignore it.  This let her have a little bit more depth to her game that the others couldn't quite match.  And because of the compression of her trainer move, Lillie had everyone to max offense by turn 3, unlike the other two who could be just short of the mark.

SS Brendan came in, but it was a similar sort of deal.  Yes, he could perform a comparable role with incredibly valuable special defense drops and comparable Potion benefits, with a better grid.  But he also needed first sync for full crit benefits.  Lillie didn't.  And so Lillie's kind of remained as a Special Attack/Crit buffer who doesn't need first sync.

That said, there's a reason Kris and Brendan tend to outrank her, and it's because Lillie rarely has everything she wants.  Her bulk is a lot worse off due to the lack of easy special defense buffs, and her passive healing isn't as strong as you'd like.  Grid constraints also mean she's not getting double MPR like ever, so Brendan serves a more valuable defensive role.  I'd argue that even SC Jasmine has stood the test of time better, as the AoE meta that came about from modern CS put a lot of value on team Endure.  And with her whole flinch rate...well, Lodge Blue is completely free, and has a comparable 60% rate, with some really nice passive healing.  So like.  Pretty much every niche Lillie occupies has pretty significant competition.  Not to say she's bad now.  But it is to say I think I use her least of the four.

SC SONIA Sonia was the last winner of her day, and remains last winner.  The problem is really just that Grass isn't hard to shop for, and having Hit the Gas with a low speed stat is a recipe for problems.  Just ask SS Giovanni, who showed up the next month.  And speaking of next month, the introduction of SS Morty was a mixed bag.  Sonia appreciated the bulk, speed, and Sun he could offer, but so did every other Grass type, most notably SS Erika, who completely popped off once Lyra dropped.  Sonia could compete, but just wasn't as considered, given her limited status compared to SS Erika's general pool designation.

Effectively nothing changed for Sonia throughout the year, until...well, three weeks from now.  SS Acerola offers the combination of Grassy Terrain and Sun at once, all while massively powering up physical moves up next, and freeing up a spot for SC Steven, who stacks damage to the moon.  SC Sonia was one of the few, truly elite beneficiaries of this comp.   Unfortunately, she ran smack into the same issues, as Acerola's attack buffs meant not only was SS Erika keeping pace, but now Mallow legitimately joined the race.  Heck, even Selene competes in this comp, and she doesn't even need Sun; Steven's just that good a partner to her.

Sonia's an unfortunate case of a sync pair that cannot escape the curse of an oversaturated type.  There are plenty of strong physical attackers in the general pool, and Sonia doesn't offer anything truly unique.  Sure, Defense Crush, but with SS Acerola/SC Steven, Steven's already debuffing defense to -6 anyway, so what value does that hold?  Sonia's decent, but "decent" doesn't cut it for a limited pair.

SC INGO When Ingo released, Zones were still relatively fresh.  We only had a few, mostly from the Sinnoh VA, and Bug in particular was in rough shape.   Having someone to finally apply that Zone felt great...right up until you looked at the kit. See, for the other Zone setters, there's...an understanding that they're supportive in nature.   Renegade Cynthia gets Sundering to boost either form of damage, but emphasizes special with On a Roll because most Ghost-types are special. Lucas removes his gauge cost because Dragons tend to have high gauge.   SS Marnie focused on physical debuffs because they're mostly physical, but tossed in Team Sharp Entry for Raihan.  SS Cyrus...okay look, Cyrus was just insane broadly.

Ingo didn't have that.  His support was a Trap condition for some reason, and Defense Crush 9.  He leaned entirely into physical.  At a time when the best Bug...was Alder.  Special.  Even among general pool, Lusamine and Burgh were the better options, and they're special.  Ingo didn't help them so much, and it was a pretty significant problem.  As a sync nuker, Ingo was momentarily top dog, but had absolutely no self-buffing skill, which hindered him in that regard as well.  Buffing evasion and accuracy is cute, but it's about all he did.  And he did it, because that's all Emmet would need.

Ingo was a case that happens too often, where DeNA designs a support to help a specific unit, rather than a particular meta niche.  He's also a case where, if invested, he's just stronger than the people he's trying to help.  Why bother with Bugsy as a damage dealer when Ingo has infinity billion damage over him on sync and DPS?  Ingo...is one of the worst Zone setters.  He's still a Zone setter and therefore has use, but there's a very, very strong case to be made for SS Hilbert being better with the rebuff and special defense drops.

SC EMMET The other half of the twins is a Bug striker, and I initially almost said we don't get many of those before realizing they're almost all strikers.  Hey Bugs?   Aren't you supposed to be about status?

Anyway, Emmet comes in as an odd kind of Striker, having very solid base power on his attack, but mostly emphasizing sync with Rising Tide.  This makes him an excellent EX clear for CS, but Gauntlet tends to be a much, much rougher time, due to his poor gauge management.  Upon release, Emmet was pretty immediately the best in class.  His only competition was Alder, who was an older unit with very little supporting him.  Certainly not Ingo.  So Emmet was kinda top dog for a while there.

But the times change, and PokeFairs are getting grid expansions.  Alder comes in with a pretty damn good one too, offering yet another 30% multiplier on Hyper Beam, and easily overtaking Emmet's DPS.  He even gets Dismay to help set up his Overpower, and Impervious to negate the trainer move drawback.  Then, he gets SS Hilbert.  Another PokeFair that can debuff special defense, and apply the new rebuff for greater damage?  Now we're talking.  Alder's damage begins to soar.  But there is another, as Lodge Dawn enters the fold, carrying gauge control, Team Sharp Entry to speed up his self setup by a whole turn, and best of all, Satisfied Snarl on Struggle Bug for some of the most aggressive special attack debuffing you can find, on a support.  Alder suddenly has an entire team comp that rivals Emmet's.

At present, Emmet has not been strictly dethroned.  SC Ingo/Sonia are a great combo for him that gives everything he requires, but Alder is keeping pace.  And unfortunately, that means there are dark times ahead, because Alder will one day receive a 3/5 expansion as well, while Emmet is currently not expected to get anything ever.  It's a waiting game.   In time, it's very likely that Emmet will lose out to Alder.  They're already neck and neck, and if Alder's expansion drops something big like half-cost Brainpower?  Now it's just over.  But, for the time, Emmet is keeping up.  It's a tough battle, but it is kinda cool how the top bugs are both Unovan, Home of Cool Bugs.

[pbandjesse]

I do not think I'm going to be taking those muscle relaxers again. I don't even think it really helped that much except it helped me sleep. When I woke up this morning I literally felt drunk. I felt like I did when I take an edibles. It was not fun. It was like all the bad parts. I woke up and was just dizzy and I felt out of it. Everything felt like it was lagging behind. Like when I looked at stuff it felt like there was a visual haze back behind it. I was not having a good time. When I woke up I was just super groggy and then I went to go get ready. And then I got very distracted by an email about tolls. But I was literally like spacing out. Then I was sitting at my vanity getting ready and James came over and I just wanted them to not be near me because I felt so unwell. And after they left I was seriously considering calling Alexia and telling her I did not feel safe to drive. It was not fun.

But I thought maybe I was just hungry. I wasn't really putting it together that it was probably from my new prescription. And so I got in the car and I drove and got breakfast. And eating helped but I was still feeling very weird. I made it to work safely. And when I got there I almost immediately went to the nurse. She was really nice and she laughed when I told her what I was experiencing and said that she also has that same reaction. She said that her doctor said that it's not possible but she's a nurse and she did some more research and found that it is possible and it's something that does happen to people. Just weird reactions. She told me to be careful and stay hydrated and if I felt like that again to not drive. But hopefully that it would wear off by the end of the day. And thankfully it seems to.

After I talk to the nurse I went back to the art building and I got set up for the day and I decided that since I had all this weird nervous energy and felt so bizarre I needed to walk for a little while. I walked around camp and I went and talked to the office. CJ was in there and she was also having a hard day. Her ginger ale have got knocked over and it was just kind of her last straw and she was almost crying. And we just kind of commiserated that we were both having a hard time.

I went back to the art building and got set up and then I just laid in my hammock for like a half an hour. I was cold and not feeling my best and I just really wanted to close my eyes. So laying in the hammock was my best move.

And eventually my group came. And they did a very good job. They were a lot of fun to hang out with. And while they were working I was working on my project of the day which was cleaning up the art building. I had spent a little time before they got their painting and drawing on my art building picture. But then I really just jumped into starting to put things away and organize.

I would get a lot of things done organizing. Things are in boxes and things are on shelves. I figured out that a three-drawer organizer fits on one of my bookshelves so I can grab another one of those from the Yukon basement and organize more. And I'm thrilled. So I also worked on moving some shelves around and things were really great. towards the end of my first program we got word that a storm won't sell was coming in and that everyone was supposed to be in their cabins by 11:00 and that the second program was canceled. So I got the boys cleaned up and they all put their raincoats on and headed out.

I also sent Hannah away. She had not been feeling good this morning so she came to me a little late but once we got the storm warning I told her to pack up and go down to her cabins just in case something happened I knew she'd be safer there. And then I spent the next hour and a half organizing and cleaning and just really having the best time.

I ate my lunch and started to feel a lot better. I wasn't as dizzy as I had been. And I was standing on the shelves and on the counter pulling things down and deciding what needed to get thrown out and what was good to keep and I just felt super productive. Eventually Celia texted me and asked if I wanted mac and cheese which is what they were having for lunch. And he played and her a plate and we sat in the yard. We talked about the YouTubers we watch and how I like to hate watch things. And just one of those things where it was fun but it wasn't super serious. And I got more organizing done while she was there.

She would leave and eventually we would meet up again and in the museum because none of the bathrooms were free anywhere. And then the one bathroom was absolutely disgusting so no one wanted to use it and it was a whole thing. But soon it was time for my next program. So I headed up to arts and crafts and waited for my group.

All of my afternoon groups were really good. I had a little trouble with some of the boys wanting to rush through but they ended up making really good stuff. Day Camp 2 was my favorite who made a penguin. Then they were playing with my McDonald's furbies and they kept calling them owls which I thought was really cute. And it was just a nice time.

Soon teepees came and they all want to do different stuff which was totally fine with me. And I continue to work on organizing. I went through all of my oil pastels and chalks and I got them all separated into trees here to use. And of Hannah go through pipe cleaners and all of my markers to pick out what was still usable and what was dead. And it was a good day. Everything felt back to normal and not terrible.

Hannah went to go swim and I would chill for a while. But I was really just motivated to continue to clean and organize so I kept working on that. And then I had my last groups of the day. There was good art made and one child kept hugging me and he was very sweet. I was getting tired though and I was very much ready to be home

I decided this week that I didn't want to stay I camp at all but I think next week I'm going to try to stay in the entire time. I don't know if I'll actually do that. But I didn't sleep at camp at all this week and that's the first time this summer that I've done that. This is the first night that I'm going to be missing snowballs! But that's okay. I got a lot done and I feel good about going home.

I actually am driving home now. I wanted to get this done so that I could just kind of lay around and not think for the rest of the night. And I am going to have leftovers for dinner and James is doing their podcast a lovely evening. Tomorrow I think I'm going to be staying later it can't because I think there's a party? I'm a little confused about that but it is going to be a nice day and to get even more packing and organizing done. And I hope that you all have a great night. And that you are being careful out there. My dad said that people are getting sick again so I hope that you are washing your hands and being careful and prouds. Good night everybody. Until next time