#the poor doomed wanderers XD

[adastra121]

So… I’ve been looking at your MCs… and I’ve made a name for them

JAL

Jin, Alon and Luneth

Lowkey sounds like jail which is where all of them will go but it fits WHEEZE

Or if we go with them being Jail… having a break down is a

✨Jailbreak✨

Wait NO, YOU’RE RIGHT XD

In some alternate universe where they’ve formed a team, their hijinks would absolutely land them in jail. Several times. But it’s fine, Alon can probably break them out.

I love it, thank you!

[twistedtummies2]

Top 12 Portrayals of Jacob Marley

The last two characters I’ve covered in this little marathon were the two most important human characters Scrooge encounters in “A Christmas Carol.” Of course, not all of the major characters can exactly qualify as “human” any longer. Enter Jacob Marley: Scrooge’s former friend and business partner, and the first of the phantoms he encounters in the story. While Fred and Bob Cratchit stand as opposing foils to Scrooge, Marley is something different: just like the words he utters, he, himself, acts as a warning to Ebenezer of what his ill behavior could lead to. Through Marley (and the other Tormented Spirits Scrooge sees), not only does Dickens create arguably the scariest and most unsettling scene in the original book, but he also conjures up a karmic punishment so ingenious, Lucifer himself should really take notes! Here we have a man who is forever doomed to wander around, forced to see hardship and suffering and realize he is truly no different from any other human soul. He can do nothing to help, only reflect on his mistakes, his guilt, and his inability to make amends and atone for his crimes, however direct or indirect they might have been. The only “comfort” he has are the very material objects he hoarded in his lifetime, lashed about him to ironically provide even more agony, with every link of the chains that strap them to his form acting as a reminder of a sin he can no longer redeem himself for. As harrowing as Marley’s scene is, there’s also a good deal of humor to it, given the very surreality of the whole scenario and Scrooge’s snappish personality. There’s also a hint of something deeper and sadder under it; in the book, at least, it’s revealed that Marley himself is the one who arranges the whole debacle and manages to get this whole story to get underway, and he does it because he wants to give his friend a sporting chance to escape. It’s not clear if Marley, himself, will get anything out of this, but he tries his best to help Ebenezer, which shows a great change in his character, and helps to sell the message of the story: it’s really never too late to change. It CAN, however, be too late to do anything about it if you don’t shape up in time. Redemption and forgiveness are two sides of the same coin, and Marley is a prime example of that: he sees the error of his ways, but it no longer matters. That is the tragedy of the whole situation. This is yet another character I’ve played, and I’d love the chance to do so again. (Annoying as the costume requirements may be.) With so many versions of the Carol, Marley has been played a lot of different ways: some make him more frightening, others more human, and some even make him a more comical figure. All of them are fairly solid and viable options, if handled right. With that said, here are My Top 12 Favorite Portrayals of Jacob Marley!

12. Mr. Slate, from A Flintstones Christmas Carol. (Here the character is referred to as "Jacob Marbley." Because rock puns. :P )

11. Goofy, from Mickey’s Christmas Carol. (He ranks low only because it’s so weird imagining Goofy “robbing from widows and swindling the poor.” Like…something there doesn’t sound right. Unless this is Jack Kinney’s Goofy, maybe. :P )

10. Basil Rathbone, from Shower of Stars: A Christmas Carol.

9. Ed Asner, from A Christmas Carol (1997).

8. Statler & Waldorf, from The Muppet Christmas Carol. (Here they make up the duo "Jacob and Robert Marley.")

7. Jason Alexander, from A Christmas Carol: The Musical (2004). (A lot of people seem to dislike this take on Marley, but I personally love it.)

6. Everett Sloane, from the Campbell Playhouse Radio Production (1939). (For these entries, I'm not including images of the cast in a Carol costume, because...well...they're from a RADIO production. Just wanna make that clear. XD)

5. Frank Finlay, from A Christmas Carol (1984).

4. Royal Dano, from Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol.

3. Alec Guinness, from Scrooge (1970). (“Use the Force, Scrooge!”)

2. Bernard Lloyd, from A Christmas Carol (1999).

1. Sir Michael Hordern, from Scrooge (1951) AND A Christmas Carol (1971).

[writerfae]

Anastasia AU: The Apple Tree (A not so mini bonus story)

This one actually takes place in the past. Young prince Aiden snuck away from his guards and encounters kitchen boy Talon.

short side note: I feel like I should mention that this takes place in a different universe, not in Russia/France, I only use the city name Paris as a placeholder because I haven't come up with a fictional city name yet

Anastasia AU masterpost

.♕.

It was a sunny day at the palace. Talon sat under the shadow of a big apple tree, peeling potatoes for dinner.

The boy enjoyed the peace and quiet of the little courtyard, away from the buzzing of the huge palace kitchen.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps quickly approaching.

Surprised, Talon peaked up from his work, just to see a boy running towards him, quite fast so.

Talon recognized him instantly. It was the prince. The youngest. Prince Aiden.

Talon has never met him before, only seen him from afar.

The nearest he ever got to him was when he served at one of the many feasts, watching in awe how the youngest son of the queen danced around his mother, his circlet sparkling in the light of the candlelit hall, just as bright as his smile.

Now said prince ran up to the tree Talon was sitting under and all Talon could do was duck away as with a cry of "Careful!" Aiden jumped up, grabbed the tree branch closest to Talon’s head and climbed up the tree trunk with a litheness that reminded the kitchen boy of a cat.

Baffled, he could only look up to the other boy who was now sitting on one of the farther up branches of the tree, looking down on him.

He must've made a pretty funny face, because the young prince started to giggle. Talon couldn’t help but to smile, too.

He was about to open up his mouth and ask him what exactly he was intending to do up there, when suddenly there was the sound of footsteps again.

Both boys looked to the direction the sound came from.

Two guards approached the courtyard with fast steps. They seemed to search for something. Or someone.

"I don't see him," said one guard to the other. Then he noticed Talon under the apple tree.

"Hey, you, kitchen boy. Have you seen Prince Aiden come past here?"

For a fleeting moment, Talon’s eyes wandered up to where the other boy was sitting on the tree. The tree's many leaves shielded him from the two men's eyes.

Aiden pressed a finger against his lips to tell Talon to keep quiet, barely surpressing his giggles.

So that's why he climbed up there, Talon thought, amused.

He looked at the guards again. "No," he shook his head. "I saw no one around but you, I'm afraid."

The guard sighed, then he nodded before turning back to his partner. "Alright, let's try to search in the library."

Then they left.

Once they were gone, the prince picked a shiny red apple, then he climbed down the tree, landing gracefully in front of Talon.

"Thank you for covering up for me." He smiled at the other boy.

Talon bowed his head. "Of course, your Highness."

The prince frowned. "Aiden," he said. Talon wasn't sure what he meant. He shot the boy a questioning look.

"Aiden," the prince repeated, sitting down next to Talon, lowering himself to his level.

"I don't like being called by title. It fits my brother better than me anyway. He's the crown prince, I'm just a spare." Aiden shrugged.

His words didn't seem bitter, they were merely a simple truth to him.

"What is your name?" He turned to Talon, his brown eyes starring in Talon’s golden ones with great curiosity.

Talon averted his eyes, unusually shy for the normally so witty kitchen boy. "Talon."

"That's a nice name," Aiden smiled. He looked down at the bowl full of potatoes in Talon’s lap. "So you work in the kitchen?"

"Huh?" Talon followed his gaze. "Oh, no, I just sneak into the palace and peel your potatoes for fun," he said sarcastically.

That made the prince laugh. Talon watched him from the side, amazed, then he laughed, too, until they both were breathless.

After Aiden caught his breath again, he took the apple he picked earlier and broke it into two halfs. One he offered to Talon.

The apple looked delicious, but the kitchen boy hesitated.

He had always wondered how the shining red apples tasted like, had thought about picking one more than once.

But it was the queen's apple tree and the cook had told him to stay away from it.

The queen's apple tree isn't for servant boys like you, she had said.

"Take it. I want you to have it." It was as if Aiden had heard his thoughts.

"Henry and me pick apples from the tree all the time. Mother won't mind and she says sharing is important."

So Talon took the apple half. It tasted even better than he imagined.

He smiled. "Thank you."

The prince nodded.

"Why did the guards look for you?" Talon asked after a while, his curiosity finally winning over. Hopefully it wasn't a rude question.

"They're my personal guards. They are supposed to watch me all the time. It's annoying. I feel like a baby. I'm not even sick anymore, it's not fair that mother sends them after me all the time."

He pouted. The older boy found that adorable.

"And since my brothers are in Paris, no one wants to play with me anymore, so I made up my own game." Aiden grinned smugly.

"Getting away from your guards?" Talon asked.

Aiden laughed. "Exactly. Almost like hide and seek. Just better." He leaned back against the tree trunk.

"Hide and seek, huh?" someone said suddenly, making the two boys flinch at the unexpected noise.

There on the balcony stood a young woman Talon recognized as the queen's sister, Aiden's aunt.

Amused, the young woman looked at the scene in front of her. And at the caught look on her nephew's face.

"Don't worry, I won't give you away. But you should go back to your guards, before they start to declare a state of emergency."

She leaned forward slightly and grinned. "Or worse, they'll tell your mother. You wouldn't want that, would you? That would mean no apple pie for you."

The prince's eyes widened at the implication of a possible dessert deprivation and he shook his head energetically.

It made Talon giggle.

"That's what I thought," Aiden's aunt said. "Now stop keeping that poor boy from his work and come. It's time for your history lesson."

With that, she disappeared.

Aiden stood up as well, dusting off his pants.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." He pouted again, as if he'd like to stay longer.

Talon wouldn't mind him staying a bit longer. But who was he to keep a prince from his duty?

He was lucky that the boy even talked to him in the first place. Princes weren't supposed to talk to kitchen boys after all.

So he just nodded.

"It was nice meeting you, Talon. Maybe we'll walk into each other again some time."

He bowed to the blonde and with a last wave of goodbye, the two boys separated.

Ever since that day, Prince Aiden would greet a certain kitchen boy with a smile and a wave every time they crossed paths and said kitchen boy always bowed in response, small smile on his normally so serious face.

.♕.

This turned out to be not that short after all, oops xD

tag list (Anastasia AU): @rise-again-2001 @thegirlwithnonickname @annoyingwritingtrash

tag list: @shattered-starrs @soupopoireau @a-ray-of-moonshine @quill-of-doom @heyabella @vibinwiththehomies @elisabethrosewrites @charleeyy @iced-ginger-tea @hell-yeah-fantasy @violetcancerian @that-one-potato-blep @annoyingwritingtrash @stardustspiral @shipdest @writingqueensworld @imintheunderworld @thewalkingnerdx @abalonetea @the-starlight-chills @fictional-semantics @cordaks @kpmccolgan @deekshablogs @myhusbandsasemni @magsiswritingnow @a-box-without-hinges @meiyanaalexia @contes-de-rheio @rhikasa @phantasticdomains @thegirlwithnonickname @marewriteblr @kimblewrites @daisylincs @treesandwords @writingbyjillian @write-for-your-life2 @deadlycupid @yejidoesthings @nora-theteawriter @ladywithalamp @the-writing-avocado

(if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know)

[eirenical]

1 and 2 for the writing meta prompt please!

Thank you, @flamingwell

[If anyone else would like to send questions, here is the list. ^_^]

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Oooooooh boy. Well, I have quite a few. XD So, how about we just go through the ones I have actively open in Word right now?

Legacies Found: The Untamed, sequel to Legacies Lost. This is a giant canon divergent AU that I've been working on for well over a year at this point. There is one key thing that I changed (and in the interest of spoilers, I'm not going to say what, but if you're curious and don't mind spoilers then, by all means, come ask and I'll tell you all about it. ;D) and it affected everything in-universe, some for the better, some for the worse. Here's the AO3 summary:

Sixteen years ago, the Yiling Patriarch died, a victim to his own hubris and the Yin Tiger Seal. Hundreds of cultivators from many different sects died with him that day, their souls forever doomed to find no rest, even in death. On this, the 16th anniversary of the battle of Qiongqi Pass, Jin Ling is determined to make pilgrimage, to try to put the spirit of his long-lost father to rest. He finds much more than he bargained for, and what he finds… will change everything.

And in the sequel, things have progressed significantly from this point, but the people involved are still broken in various ways, not quite at the point of healing yet, but getting there. The plot is opening up to the wider world and new characters are going to be introduced, and I'm having a lot of fun writing it, but it is SO MUCH SLOWER GOING. OTZ

Mirror, Mirror: I talked about this one extensively in this post, and it hasn't really progressed any further from there. XD This is a Guardian AU based on a short film that Zhu Yilong did with Li Bingbing called "Into the Mirror" (there's a link in the other post).

Reclamation: *eg* For anyone who's been following my Whumptober series (yes, I know we're WELL past October OTZ) of fics that I've been writing for Granting You a Dreamlike Life, this is the latest in the series. This monster is already almost 18K words and it's... it's a LOT. The story is a canon-divergent AU that starts out mostly overlapping canon during episode 35 and begins to diverge somewhere between there and episode 36. I leaned REALLY hard into the whump on this one, went really self-indulgent and wrote the fic that I would most want to read for this fandom, because I was pretty damned sure that no one else would write it or would take it as far and as dark as I wanted it to go if they did. And this particular story is the darkest of the bunch so far. ^_~ I'm not going to link directly to this one, because this is definitely a HEED THE TAGS situation, but if anyone's interested in some really, REALLY dark GYADL fic... hit me up and I'll be happy to tell you more. ^_^ (And for those who just want to look for themselves, you can find it under #eirenical does whumptober or on my AO3 where the series name is "Indefinitely." ^_^)

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

I think I've talked enough about my current projects, so how about some future projects for this one? ^_^

(...and how about under a cut because this is getting kind of long...)

The Lost Tomb Reboot

I have... several fic at the plotty stage for TLTR, and I just added a new one to the list this morning. XD

Ershu fic: So, for anyone who's been following my TLTR journey, you know I'm obsessed with Ershu. I LOVE HIM. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. And you know what happens when I love a character, right? Right? I WANT TO BREAK THEM. *coughs* Anyway, something happens to Ershu in S2 of TLTR that I won't go into detail about because spoilers, but essentially, he's betrayed and ends up in the hands of the person who betrayed him with no one else being the wiser and with him helpless and unable to tell anyone. And there are just... all KINDS of dark, fucked up possibilities there, and just like the Whumptober series, I AM going to write that fic, even if no one but me ends up reading it. ;D

Probably post-canon domestic bliss fic: For those of you who enjoy WHIPLASH ;D, I just honestly want ALL THE SOFT DOMESTIC IRON TRIANGLE. ALL OF IT. And I want Wu Xie and Ershu to have an opportunity to sit down and actually TALK about things (e.g., their need for a family heir), instead of trying to one-up each other. Special appearances by all the ducklings, Xiao Bai's girlfriend, and Lia Jiale and Jia Kezi (...my fic, my rules, we ignore canon when we want to ^_^) having an ...oh moment, and sweet, soft cuddles for Liu Sang and Kan Jian because they're adorable and I love them, too. (I have no idea if this is all going in one fic or if it will be a series of slice of life things, but I just want everyone to get their happily ever after IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK???)

Post-canon Huo Daofu and Xiao Ge... time-sharing Wu Xie?: IDEK what to call what's going on here, but... yeah. XD (See, @elenothar, I haven't forgotten! ;D) To crib from another post... I really do think that Xiao ge loves Wu Xie and loves being with him and all that that entails, but that he gets… restless.  A little feral cat, if you will.  And he just needs to wander off and be on his own for a while sometimes.  And I would love to see a permutation where it’s just kind of understood that he and Huo Daofu just kind of… share Wu Xie.  ^_^  Not in a threesome way, but in a way that they both understand each other’s claim on Wu Xie and neither of them wants him to be alone, so they just kind of… work that out between them.  Like he's a time share. (OMG, I have to be careful of how often I use that phrase for this fic or I'm going to end up calling it that as a title. XD)

DMBJ x Highlander xover that I just came up with literally this morning: No, seriously, this LITERALLY just popped into my head as I was waking up this morning. It was a wild fucking ride, too. O_o;;; ANYWAY, I'm probably going to make a separate headcanon/plotty post for this one, but basically I just randomly woke up thinking... Duncan was an antique dealer in the late 80s/early 90s in the US. Wu Xie is an antique dealer in China, now, and his family has been involved in the antique trade for a... VERY long time. Maybe Duncan did some business with the Wu family. Maybe he met Wu Xie as a kid. Maybe he knew Xiao ge even EARLIER than that (like 100 years earlier). Maybe post-canon Highlander, Duncan starts getting back into the antique trade by helping to quietly repatriate artifacts and comes to China to deal with the Wu family to do that, and meets Wu Xie again... and Xiao ge. And has a WTF moment because Xiao ge ISN'T an Immortal like he is, but he doesn't look a day older than when they met 100 years ago and just... WTF?? And Wu Xie is looking at Duncan and looking at Xiao ge and having a WTF moment of his own because is EVERYONE immortal except him and Pangzi?? And... I just think that would be a lot of fun to play with. ;D

Guardian:

The Care and Training of a Former Megalomaniac V and VI, maybe?: OK, so this idea isn't really concrete, but I still want to play with it. I want to do something to tackle Ye Zun's past with the Rebel Leader and the trauma that that left behind, and I'm thinking he'll end up having a good (...drunk) talk with Da Qing about it.

Another idea I had (MUCH more concrete) was based off my own poor lazy bb. He LOVES to catch bugs. LOVES IT. He gets SO EXCITED and SO into it... but sometimes the bugs fly up to the ceiling. And Gabriel is comfy in my lap and doesn't want to move. So he will swat at the bug... halfheartedly. And then he will turn around and complain to me when it won't come down to be swatted at again. Like I can somehow make it come down so he can play with it? IDEK. XD ANYWAY. I had a vivid mental image of Da Qing doing this to Ye Zun and somehow convincing him to actually... bring the bug down. Using his powers. And someone at the SID detects Ye Zun using his powers so ZYL and SW race home... to find Ye Zun... using his powers... to tether bugs for Da Qing to play with. And I just think that would be hilarious. XD

...I think that's everything in the mental kiddy right now? XD

[ladynox]

Tagged by @jocarthage Rules: You can usually tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to! Put your music library on shuffle and list the first 10 songs, then tag 10 people. Before going forward, I feel like should explain that I don't keep playlists in the traditional sense. As in they're created with a theme or mind or for a specific mood or anything. I basically use 1 Spotify playlist that use to store any and all songs that I discover and/or remember. So it's just a mess of genres in both Spanish and English. 1. Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco. Legit not surprised this is the first one. XD I listen to this song so much Spotify's algorithm knows to play it first. I love swing and jazz, and everything Urie was doing with this song. I'm cutting my mind off Feels like my heart is going to burst Alone at a table for two and I just wanna be served And when you think of me am I the best you've ever had? Share one more drink with me, smile even though you're sad 2. Ahora Quien (Salsa version) by Marc Anthony. Translates to Now Who? I love Marc Anthony. He's just amazing. His lyrics are always gorgeous and my translation will do it no justice. (salsa version because I love to dance). And who will write you poems and letters? And who will tell you his fears and faults? Who will let you sleep on your back? And then in the silence you will tell him you love him You'll have his breathe on your face He will lose his way in your gaze and will Forget life loving you Now who? 3. Can't Feel My Face by the Weekend. Just a good jam. Music for me first and foremost is for walking or cleaning or working out. So I like stuff I can move too. And I know she'll be the death of me At least we'll both be numb And she'll always get the best of me The worst is yet to come But at least we'll both be beautiful and stay forever young This I know, yeah, this I know 4. The Wanderer by Dion. What can I say? I love Fallout 4. Oh well I'm the type of guy who will never settle down Where pretty girls are well, you know that I'm around I kiss 'em and I love 'em 'cause to me they're all the same I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em they don't even know my name They call me the wanderer, yeah the wanderer I roam around around around 5. I Don't Feel Like Dancin' by the Scissor Sisters. There's an RNM fic in here somewhere, I just know it. Cities come and cities go just like the old empires When all you do is change your clothes and call that versatile You got so many colors make a blind man so confused Then why can't I keep up when you're the only thing I lose? So I'll just pretend that I know which way to bend And I'm gonna tell the whole world that you're mine Just please understand when I see you clapping your hands If you stick around I'm sure that you'll be fine 6. Pressure by Muse. This is one of those songs that I'd add to an Alex Manes playlist if I made playlists about characters. More for the vibe--the need to break free and the bubbling anger. I'm feeling the pressure I can't break out No one can hear me scream and shout Get out of my face, out of my mind I see your corruption I'm not blind I'll carry the burden and take the strain And when I am done I will make you pay 7. El Beso Que No Le Di by Romeo Santos & Kiko Rodriguez. Guess I can't have a music list without some sentimientios hahaha I cannot emphasizes enough just how dramatic this song is. Max Evans weeps to this song in the desert. My poor English translation does not do it justice. I saw her at the altar With a diadem on her head That boyfriend took what I most loved Her image I can't erase I want to remove from my memory Her white dress, the ring on her finger And the kiss I didn't give her. 8. Ungodly Hour by Chloe x Halle. This is one of my miluca songs and now I am in my feelings. You know that I, I heard it all before You're hesitant, but you could give me more I know you like to play those silly games When you're done, call my name When you decide you like yourself (Holler at me) When you decide you need someone (Call up on me) When

you don't have to think about it Love me at the ungodly hour 9. Volvi a Nacer by Carlos Vives. The lyrics to this one aren't that amazing. I just really like the music, the way he sings the song. I want to marry you Stand by your side Be blessed by your love That's why I want to leave my past I want you to come with me Die in your arms, sweet love. 10. Moon River by Frank Ocean. First of all, thank fuck it wasn't another Spanish song. I regret adding lyrics. XD Anyway, I came across this one while watching Doom Patrol. What a wonderful, poignant song. Two drifters off to see the world It's such a crazy world you'll see (What I see, who I become) What I see, who I become We're all chasin' after our end Chasin' after our ends Life's just around the bend, my friend Moon river and me Not gonna bother tagging anyone. If you wanna do it, consider yourself tagged.

[fuwafuwamedb]

Poor Bedivere, he's so shocked by the revelation. I feel like he'd tell his king of this news XD

Hello, my king. 

You may be wondering where your lady knight has gone. Allow me to explain. Today, as I was wandering forth to have a pint with Sir Gawain, I found out dear knight walking in a dress. She was hand in hand with one of those academics. She had her hair down and was dressed up.

I know how this sounds. I was there though. I saw it with my own eyes.

Is this a grim omen? Am I doomed to death?

My king, I feel so weary. Be gentle with this God-fearing man. 

[blackcatanna]

First impressions of Hakuoki characters:

Hijikata: Sebastian from Black Butler realness. Is mean but in a reluctant way. Like a Mum who is in charge of discipline because her husband (Kondou) is incapable of laying down the law. I like him but I would like him more if the game wasn't sucking his dick so hard. He has good hair. Please don't kill me, Hijikata!

Okita: He is handsome (duh) but seems a bit too eager to kill his own men... Ugh, now he's making me thank him. His idea of humour is threatening to kill you. He's like an old cackling witch who was shunned by the world and is taking it out on anyone he has power over. I enjoy him but I find it hard to relate to someone who takes pleasure in tormenting the helpless. Big dom energy. Probably enjoyed tying you up a bit too much. I want to fight back but I have a feeling that there is no script for bratty Chizuru. :'(

Saito: The Chosen One. He is dangerous but also adorable. He saved mah life *swoons*. He is HELPFUL. He has beautiful impractical hair. He is CONCISE. He is POLITE. He just seems like a great person to have around... If he's on your side (R.I.P. Itou). Alas, we can never be wed, for he is already married to his sword... Or maybe it's Hijikata... Or Okita... Or tofu. He has a lot of commitments.

Harada: He has red hair. Me like red hair. I feel like all three of them are way too casual about my impending doom. Not getting friendly vibes here. However, it turns out that he's pretty great! A bit too chirpy for my liking, though. Because I'm a miserable bitch (goth), I guess. The baka trio are all more boisterous and outgoing than I would be comfortable being around but I like them on their own. Harada is my favourite, though. Definitely the Mum of the trio. I guess that makes him the cool aunty of the Shinsengumi? He has the best Kazama burns and I will always love him for that.

Heisuke: I wish that the others would stop treating him like a child. Maybe they would if he stopped taking their bait. He's the most openly friendly of the group and that means a lot when you're surrounded by new people (and are being held against your will). He looks like an angry wildcat. I like cats so that's fine, I guess.

Kazama: Ew. Can you tell that I don't like him? Fuck this wannabe nonce. Actually, no! Don't fuck him! That's what he wants! Just stab him real good. He cannot control his temper. I do not respect that. He is racist. He is too scared of rejection to court a girl and get consent. He is really handsome but he has the worst personality so I feel no attraction to him at all. Not even for a hate fuck. No. Go away.

Nagakura: Ah, the classic pervert! We love a slut! I kept forgetting who he was, though. Sorry. Clearly, he has hidden depths but I have yet to find out what those are. Is a little bit too violent. Needs to calm tf down. I don't really have much else to say about first impressions. At first, the baka trio were just loud, wacky background noise.

Sannan: Seems fine, I guess... Fairly reasonable. If he was such a sweet, fluffy bunny before his injury, why was everyone so scared of him? He has a pleasantly calm aura. However, he needs to work on his diplomacy. Demanding blood while brandishing a sword is extremely un-chill of him. I also enjoy wandering around eerily in the middle of the night so we have that in common. Definitely gives off sinister vibes.

Yamazaki: Ninja Nurse Mum! He is clever, selfless, dedicated and reliable! He deserves a better hairstyle XD Sorry Yamazaki! The rat tail is not a strong look but he probably has more important things to worry about like SAVING LIVES and coming up with new moves to shout out in combat. I am excited to do his route because he deserves all the happiness.

Iba: The most beautiful one. He's rich, good looking, friendly and has had a crush on you for years. He also rescues you from the Shinsengumi on numerous occasions to hang out and eat delicious desserts. He's very cute. Definitely too good to be true. Everyone has a dark side and it concerns me when someone locks theirs away so much. Or maybe he really is that 2D. Iba is so perfect that they had to give him the Demon Arm of Horniness because they didn't want to tarnish him with a human flaw. I would probably be obsessed with him if he was real but, as a character, I don't find him that interesting.

Sakamoto: I still have no idea who this man is. He creeps me out, though. I don't remember why, I just remember being creeped out when you first meet him. Maybe he should mind his own business.

Souma: Puppy? Who threw this poor guy to Harada and Nagakura? Wow, I finally have underlings. However, they are probably not here against their will. He looks scared so he must have some brains. I haven't played his route yet so I don't know much about him.

Nomura: Horny Puppy! This isn't really a first impression (except for in the sense that all of my impressions are initial because I haven't played much with him in yet) and is totally spoilery but there's a bit in Edo Blossoms where they're making fun of him for being terrible with women and how it'll take him ten years to figure them out. At the time, I thought, "Bit harsh, guys. He could very easily die tomorrow and then he'll never get any." AND THEN HE DID. Die, that is. Not get laid. R.I.P.

Kondou: Married to Hijikata. They have loads of terrible children. Fun Dad. Thinks that he's a cool Dad but there are no cool Dads. Everyone talks about how nice he is and how everyone loves him but it's hard to appreciate that when he's debating whether or not to feed you to Okita. Turns out, he is kind but very busy. Definitely a secret badass. Very secret. He gives off friendly bear vibes.

Inoue: Friendly Grandad who is way younger than he looks. Not datable so he is mostly in the background, just being kind, helpful and dependable. He is warm but calm and comforting to be around.

Shimada: Gruff undatable anime guy who is not a bishie and so his brave and heroic acts often go unnoticed.

Motoyama: Bless him for trying to be a wingman. Why is he so scared of the Shinsengumi? Scary poor people with swords? He is very good at his job. Needs to calm down with the winks and nudges.

Itou: This Bitch. He could be fabulous but he loses points for mocking the disabled. He's Regina George. Except he actually dies. Is very camp. Would be great to go shopping with him. Not necessarily gay but is the gay best friend you deserve, not the gay best friend you asked for. Is a bitch but also sometimes the only sane person in the room. He's not reading you, he's just being real with you because you're Shinsengumi Sisters.

Miki: Bitch by Association. "Darling." Doesn't seem totally evil, just trying to do his best by his brother. Relies on tough guy image. Doing his job but happens to be on team Bitch. Also, he is a handsome boi.

Takeda: Fabulous Cunt. Should be too beautiful to be such a disaster human and yet here we are. Starts off as a bit of a prick, ends up (spoilers) feasting on the flesh of innocents... Is that a glow up? He's a dirty cop. Nobody likes him X_X :'(

Shiranui: GUNS! SHOOTY SHOOTY! He has a lot of aggression and he channels it through his GUNS. He always looks somewhat maniacal. Needs to take a chill pill.

Amagiri: Infuriatingly calm enemy with infuriating facial hair. He seems pretty chill and not bloodthirsty so... Good? He punched Heisuke, though, so RAAAAAAAWR!!!!

Kodo: Worst Dad. Scalpels > kunai. Took a level in WTF while he was away (hopefully he wasn't always like that).

Kaoru: Why can't I dress like that? :'( Definitely evil.

Sen: Hey, don't tell me off for protecting you! Can we be best friends?! I'M SO STARVED OF FEMALE CONTACT!!! More of this queen, please. She is powerful, kind and she is honest! I wanted to run away with her while Saito and Heisuke were away :') But the game didn't let me :'(

Kimigiku: GOALS. Why can't I be disguised as a geisha (except for that one time) :'( GET THIS QUEEN A ROUTE. She is beauty she is grace. I wish that I looked more like a woman and less like a child. I want her to be my friend too. She can teach me her womanly arts!

Chizuru!: She's fine. Much less annoying than she could easily be. Too pure for this world. A fine example of woman (well, she looks like a child). Her disguise is useless. Pretends not to be thirsty but rushes past Itou to see shirtless men. HMMMMMMM.

[hookaroo]

Vocivore Ltd. (43 of 46)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

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Note: I hope it doesn’t feel like I’m rushing these final updates, but I kind of am :D Now that the story is pretty much complete, I don’t need as much time between chapters. But the real reason is that I’m going on a band trip to Ireland on the 30th (!!!) and was hoping to finish posting before I leave. Both to avoid keeping you in suspense and so that Winter(/Spring/early Summer) Whump doesn’t become Midsummer Whump! XD 

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Present (Monday, continued)...

“Deeeeeep inna hundred acre wood…”

A little voice sang, high and sweet, while a tiny body wandered the periphery of the darkened cathedral, perfect miniature fingers trailing sanded oak walls, touching each crack where the boards were joined, sometimes slapping them with a giggle. Killian lay flat on his back, completely immobile, straining to protect his daughter. He needed to get her away from there somehow, before his Master noticed her, before she was caught up in its tortures, her body broken and cast aside like a rag doll.

His words came out silent. And she continued to sing.

“Donkey named Eeyore, little friend… Kanga, Roo, Curious George, tee-hee-hee…”

Killian could feel his heart pounding with the terror of Hope’s imminent discovery and violent death, all of his nightmare scenarios coming true before his eyes. Still, voice and movement remained out of reach. And the waves of pain accompanying the effort only convinced him of the reality of the situation. But then came another voice that did not belong in that sanctuary of horrors.

“Shhh, baby; Papa is trying to sleep, remember?”

Killian's eyes snapped open and before anything had a chance to register--his surroundings, who was with him, even the throbbing pain in shoulder, chest, and hand--he was scrambling to push himself up to his elbows. Anguish tore through his upper body as he heard Hope squeal,

“Oh! Papa waked up!”

Killian fell back against the mattress, panting a grimace and still in the throes of dream disorientation. There was a commotion, Emma speaking quietly and urgently to someone else nearby, and then he felt her at his side, resting her hand on his upper arm.

“Shh, Killian, settle down. Lemme help you.”

The bed shifted suddenly beneath him, the quiet grumble of a motor sending vibrations through his chest and shoulder as the top half of the mattress slowly elevated. The movement made him dizzy, but his eyes were glued on the angelic face in the corner. She was in the arms of someone, being gazed upon by someone else, but it was like the radiance of her sharp outlines blasted away every other detail and left the rest of the scene in smeared, muted watercolor. Eerie prickles blanketed his face as jagged cracks begin to form in the crystalline layers of falsehood within his mind.

“Breathe, Killian,” pleaded a worried voice beside him. A chiming machine nearby seemed to second the request. But Killian wasn't sure he even remembered how, until he suddenly realized he wanted nothing more than to greet the daughter the fates had restored to him. His chest expanded, filling him with life and light and longing.

“Hope,” he whispered, the name as much a plea to hold her close as it was an expression of unbridled joy and near-disbelief all rolled into one. The bed stopped moving, and though the change in position had intensified his pain, Killian did not comment; he was too caught up in the moment to pay it much heed. In fact, he even started reaching for the grinning toddler, until his blazing shoulder reminded him why that was a bad idea.

The two observers moved closer, and enough orientation had returned for him to identify them as David and Snow White, yet still, he only had eyes for Hope. Wearing a watery smile, Snow passed her granddaughter to Emma and then stepped back. Seeing the desperate look on her husband's face, Emma gently spoke to their wriggly daughter.

“I think Papa wants a hug. Do you want to give him a hug?”

“I want a hug too, Mama.”

“Okay, just remember Papa's owies, okay? You need to be very soft and still by him.”

Hope looked a little bit intimidated at first by her mother's somber tone, but soon enough she was reaching both arms out toward Killian. After double-checking Killian's expression for permission, which was unnecessary and they both knew it, Emma settled her carefully against his right side, between flank and forearm, where a toddler’s lack of caution might not result in serious harm. As Emma settled into a nearby chair, keeping a hand on her daughter just in case, Hope hunched over and laid her head on Killian's chest. Maybe slightly closer to the sore shoulder than would have been comfortable in other circumstances, but the undeniable magic of the moment washed away such petty concerns.

Again rendered breathless, feeling as if he could stop time by remaining completely motionless, Killian's surge of uncontainable joy triggered the response that had grown so automatic the past month, back when such feelings would lead to certain doom. The vision, and the mantra, both so at odds with what his senses were telling him was true but inescapable nonetheless. Desperate to override the mental reflex, Killian curled a trembling forearm around the tiny body, tentatively resting his splinted, bandaged hand on silken locks as he silently quarreled with his internal voice.

Hope was not kidnapped; she was here, snuggled against him, delicate fingers patting him in imitation of what she'd observed in adult hugs. Tangible, indisputable proof, tapping a sweet, sweet rhythm next to his vulnerable heart.

Not tortured. No. He could hear her even breaths, contented sighs with no trace of pain or fear. Nothing in her tiny wiggles suggested any distress, merely a toddler's natural restlessness and the drive to remain always on the move.

Hope was alive. So very, very much alive. Not dead. Not dead. As Killian tried to clear blurred vision, he could hear muffled sniffling sounds echoing in every corner of the room, and he was pretty sure that they weren't all coming from him. Not that it mattered. She was alive, she was safe, NOT DEAD, and his sore shoulder could not stop him from squeezing her tightly against his ribs, long enough that she grew bored and started to squirm. Bursting with energy, with life.

Emma carefully steered miniature knuckles away from the central line tunneled within Killian’s chest. Reluctant to release his hold on his precious child, Killian kept his arm around her lower back as she sat up. Her beaming face could have lit the entire world, and lingering shades of grisly thought fled before the onslaught. Even should he have wanted to do otherwise, for some unfathomable reason, Killian would have been helpless to resist: he grinned back, tears and all, as the ocean reflects the sun’s glory. Sobbing one last time, his expression wobbling only briefly in the direction of pain, he whispered,

“Thank you, love.”

Adorable concern darkened Hope’s features, and she glanced from her father’s face to her mother’s and back again.

“Papa is crying, Mama,” she said, and she touched a faded diamond printed on his gown. Barely able to form words herself, Emma managed,

“He missed you, baby.”

Hope turned unsure eyes on her father, who nodded in earnest agreement. That may have been one of the biggest understatements he’d ever heard, but it was no less true for it.

“Why?”

Emma rested one hand on Killian’s elbow and used the other to rub small circles on Hope’s upper back. “Because he loves you a lot.”

“Why?”

Before Emma could answer--or direct the conversation away from the endless spiral of repetitive questioning--Hope spotted a familiar item lying forgotten on the bedside table. “I want Oreo, Mama!”

She leaned forward, stretching her arms toward the stuffed animal, though she really had no chance of even coming close to retrieving it on her own.

“Please?” prompted Emma, and she waited for Hope to repeat the word before grabbing Eeyore from the table. And Killian was struck by the utter normalcy of the scenario he’d just witnessed. Hope was alive and Emma was still teaching her manners as if she would need them in the future, because she would need them in the future, because she had a future, because she was not dead. Tears filled his eyes yet again.

“Oreooooo!” sang Hope gleefully, oblivious. She’d been unable to pronounce the donkey’s name when first receiving him as a gift. Since then, she had learned the words to the song, sort of, and knew that ‘Eeyore’ referred to her favorite plush toy. But ‘Oreo’ he would forever remain.

“Do you want to show Papa your story?” asked Emma as Hope squeezed the donkey around his fluffy neck.

“Happy Bear!” she cried, nearly leaping to her feet in excitement and causing a definite jolt in Killian’s shoulder. Emma caught her arm and helped her to settle down.

“Okay, but you have to sit quietly, remember?”

David stepped closer and handed Emma a thin stack of papers sandwiched between two  pieces of decorated cardstock and tied at one end with colorful yarn. As Emma accepted the homemade storybook, Killian could just make out Belle’s fanciful script gracing the cover, which read, The Happy Bear.

Half in explanation, Emma asked,

“Auntie Belle helped you to make this, didn't she?”

“Yeah,” answered Hope, already entranced by her creation.

Careful not to rip the pages, Emma opened the cover and began to read.

“Once upon a time, there was a very happy bear.”

She held the book up so that both Killian and Hope could see the illustration on the facing page. The crayon sketch was hardly recognizable, least of all as a bear; it was a simple, somewhat circular shape with two eyes of unequal sizes and a wide smile stretching from the corner of one eye to the other. In that moment, Killian would have gladly classified it as the most beautiful art he'd ever seen.

“It's lovely, darling,” said Killian in a gravelly voice, and Hope smiled and smiled.

Happy Bear went on to have several pages of disjointed adventures, appearing mostly the same on each one. When they came to the part where the wind blew all of the bear’s hair off, and a scribble at the edge of the page represented the wayward pelt, Killian startled himself with a genuine laugh, the first he had uttered in who-knew-how-many weeks. Emma had to stop and wipe away a tear from her cheek before turning to the next page.

It was a different type of paper, and Killian immediately recognized Emma’s handwriting taking the place of Belle’s.

“One day,” read Emma in a quavering voice, “a very naughty bear came and was mean to the Happy Bear and all of her friends.”

More circles filled the page, each wearing a frown, and it was difficult to tell which was the offending Naughty Bear. The next page had one giant, oblong shape towering over another half its size, and the smaller one wore a surprisingly recognizable expression of fear.

“Happy Bear’s papa came and told the Naughty Bear to go away.”

They had reached the final page. Emma's voice was thick as she read,

“Happy Bear loved her papa very, very much.”

The giant circle was joined by a smaller one with the distinctive, wide smile representing the story's protagonist. Even without appreciable arms, they were clearly locked in an embrace, celebrating the villain’s defeat. And Killian’s eyes were once again too flooded by tears to determine whether the back cover declaring The End contained an illustration.

Suddenly, what he had been through and accomplished had taken on just a bit more meaning. To think that his three-year-old, with the help of her mother, understood and appreciated the victory, could feel safe under his protection and might one day learn to follow his example was at once humbling and reassuring. Everything had been for her, whether he'd realized it or not. His Papa Bear's instinct to defend his little one. And she was safe.

“Again, again!” begged Hope. Her excited squirming was causing Killian's shoulder to throb, but he kept a tight hold on her anyway. The tormenting mental images could not compete with the truth on display, observable by all of his senses. And even the pain was preferable to what lay just beneath the surface of his consciousness.

Emma shut the homemade book, saying

“We can read it again the next time we visit, but right now Papa needs to rest.”

“No!” whined the toddler, but Emma was ready for this reaction. She got to her feet and, in an excited tone, said,

“We need to go meet Henry now, remember? Ice cream time?”

“H'ice cream!!" Forgetting all about her Happy Bear story, Hope began bouncing in anticipation. Emma quickly lifted her up before she could do Killian any harm, in the same motion snatching up Eeyore, who was lying facedown on Killian's abdomen. Whispers of panic flooded his mind at the sudden loss of proximity, and he gulped a breath that burned in his chest.

"Give Papa a nice goodnight kiss, okay?" Emma stooped to bring Hope within a cautious distance from Killian's face. Restricted movement meant he could not reach up to caress her, but he savored the sloppy smooch she placed on his forehead.

"Ni-night, Papa."

Killian could barely force sound through his throat, and the process was made that much harder by the fact that all he really wanted to do was ask her to stay.

"Good night, my happy bear," he murmured, sure that the desperation in his smile would frighten or upset her. But she merely giggled, pleased by the nickname, and thrust Eeyore in his face so he could bestow a kiss on a fuzzy ear.

As Hope began to sing loudly about ice cream, Emma straightened, shifted her grasp on the three-year-old, and brushed a gentle hand along his face, promising,

"I'll be back in maybe half an hour. 50 percent chance I'll be painted with hot fudge, though."

Killian nodded with a small wince. He was nowhere near ready for solid food yet; the longing he felt was for the company and, of course, the bliss of watching his little treasure enjoy herself with Henry and his family.

As Emma headed for the door, directing Hope to call out a “Bye-bye, Papa” as they went, David and Snow stepped forward to take her place. Tearing his eyes away from the retreating form of his daughter, Killian was, for the first time, forced into the realization that he had other visitors. That perhaps they had come to see him, not just to tag along with Emma and Hope. And he was suddenly struck with the reminder of what he had done to them both. All words of apology felt inadequate and stuck in his throat, and he was left helplessly staring, wondering if they would ever find it in their hearts to forgive.

Snow White was wearing a gentle, sad smile as she dug in a bag at her side.

“We should be going, too,” she told him. “But... we thought this might be helpful.”

She seemed a bit timid about the suggestion, as if it were in response to some information she was afraid he wouldn't want her to know. From her bag, she produced a plain, brown frame and rotated it so he could see its contents: a color photocopy of the last page of Hope’s book, the Happy Bear embracing her papa, both of their smiles as wide as could be. In a blank corner, she had pasted a photograph portraying a real life hug between father and daughter, from before any of this had started.

"Emma mentioned that you were having some nightmares," continued Snow in the same hesitant tone. "I thought, if it happens again, that you could look at this when you wake up and be reminded that she's okay and that she's thinking about you.”

She placed it on his bedside table, then adjusted everything so it was within effortless view, and he managed one strangled “thank you” before overpowering shame made him avert his eyes. The room’s outside window had the shades drawn, blocking out the daylight in the same way as the pall of trauma, physical and mental, fogged his thoughts and prevented optimism.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, a bit too loudly, trying to drown out the returning words and images worming their insidious pathways back into the spotlight. “For what we… what I…”

His lungs seemed to be shrinking, a great weight pressing down in increments, and he shifted his bandaged, useless hand toward the line of sutures between his ribs, all to no avail. He could hear the desperate grief that had colored the words of both of these dear people beside him, saw himself driving the sword point into David’s flesh, remembered the lies and heartache, and then the torture and the helplessness as his control gradually waned. Hope dead, no hope, no hope…

“Killian. It’s okay,” David was saying, his good hand wrapped carefully around Killian’s twitching forearm. “Killian, look at us.”

He sought the framed drawing first. His link to the new reality, a mild balm for his soul, not yet corrupted by doubts. Snow White’s hand joined her husband’s, warm and soft upon his arm.

“We’re just glad you’re back,” she soothed. “It’s all over… and you’ve suffered enough.”

Happy Bear hugged Papa Bear. Hope hugged Killian. Snow’s words, forgiveness implied, blanketed his guilt-ridden heart. He could not understand.

Killian looked up, first at Snow, then at David. Both were watery-eyed but relaxed, wearing honest and compassionate expressions. He could read their sincerity, bewildering as it was. He had perpetuated the worst of all lies, and perhaps they would never trust his word in the same way again… but they were willing to move past it and bestow upon him a mercy he did not deserve. Even if he’d had the breath for thanks, Killian lacked the words.

David must have sensed how overwhelmed he was, for his eyes took on a twinkle of levity as he added,

“You’re even off the hook for this.” He carefully lifted his wrist a fraction to call attention to the sling he still wore, and Killian found himself raising an eyebrow in response, more in bemusement than anything else. David sighed, looking off into the distance as he feigned annoyance. “I sort of… owed you that one.”

Before Killian could protest--that wasn’t real, though, and anyway, ancient history had been the last thing on his mind when he’d been forced to stab  David--Snow White interjected,

“And actually, Killian… we wanted to thank you for what you did. You made the Realms safe again, for us, for Neal… I don’t think we can ever truly repay you for that.”

She bent and placed a soft kiss on his tousled hair, then stepped back to allow David access. He took an awkward look at his injured son-in-law, possibly trying to figure out a way to shake hands or pat him on the back without hurting him. Finally settling for a light squeeze of his mostly intact forearm, he smirked,

“Seconded. But I’m not kissing you.”

Killian came perilously close to laughing for the second time that day, and only stopped because of the threat of unbearable pain from the required muscles. He caught himself with a grimace; when he opened his eyes again, David was just hiding a wince of contrition.

“Get better soon.”

Finally finding his voice, Killian met each of their gazes in turn as he breathed,

“Thank you.”

A sudden, overpowering weariness washed over Killian as his visitors took their leave, and though he still feared what his dreams would bring, he was better equipped this time to meet twisted memory in battle. He had his family’s thanks and forgiveness, the promise of future encouragement, and most importantly, the lingering feeling of Hope’s touch, real and solid against the threat of ethereal phantoms. Perhaps it would be enough this time. 

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AN: Shout-out to my best friend's little girl, who is a few years older now, but memories of visiting her at that age provided much of the inspiration for toddler Hope. The story book was based on one by baby Hookaroo, though, and I have to wonder if the poor hairless bear was an early stage of my metamorphosis into a whumper! XD

[violetosprey]

BTD: Rire/Cain Compare and Contrast

One thing I like about the BTD and TDDUP games is that pretty much every single character in the series is unique.  Hardly any of them line up in the same format as any other the others (due to occupation, objectives, level of sadism, personality, etc.).  Actually out of the entire series, there’s only really two characters that come close to being “carbon copies” : Cain and Rire.

This used to bother me a bit, but it doesn’t anymore because when you put a little more thought into it, the two couldn’t be anymore different.  It’s about time I put my thoughts onto paper though so I stop trying to lump these two together all the time :P

Game spoilers below.

First off, laying out the most important fact here:  It doesn’t matter how “similar” these characters are in the context of the games because they are created/owned by two different people.

Rire is owned by Darqx.  Cain is owned by ElectricPuke.  

Sooo I could technically end this post right here just for that sake.  These were two friends with two separate characters for their own universes.  They have full knowledge of the other’s character.  I don’t know who had their character first, but really this isn’t the case of either of them copying the other.  It’d be worse in my opinion if a creator kept dishing out the same exact type of character each and every game with just a different coat of paint on them so to speak.  Both creators are pretty good though with their character diversity :)

1) Why Rire and Cain feel like the same “model”

Well they both happen to be supernatural beings of the “dark” variety (one’s a demon, and one’s a fallen angel) who are very charming when you first meet them, but reveal themselves to be complete sadists later on.  They’re pretty overpowered, so you’re completely at their mercy.  They both do physical torture, as well as mess with your mind.  They are torturing the MC simply because they’re bored and they found the MC “interesting.”  It is highly likely you will end up dying when you meet them (though same with most any of the other BTD boys).  And they’re also incredibly difficult to please.  They want a victim who will fight back a bit, but they also don’t like a victim who is totally “uncooperative.”  Sometimes they don’t even mind a little submission from their victim or the victim even showing willingness to engage in certain activities.  Really, they just want someone to “play” with who keeps them on their toes.  Also, I’d have to double-check, but I think they’re even the same height XD

So yeah...pretty similar on the surface.  I have to admit though that these two are my 2nd and 3rd favorites out of all the BTD characters, so clearly I didn’t really mind how the setup went :P  

2) Why the two characters function completely differently underneath the hood

First off, appearances.  While snappy dressers I have to say, they’re EXTREMELY different in the looks department.  Rire’s got this luscious hair in a short ponytail while we have Cain sporting this more, almost delinquent look, with his hair dyed red in the middle (it looks fantastic slicked back though!).  Rire’s also got a little more chest hair and same facial hair, and Cain seems slightly...leaner I guess?  Overall, I find Rire’s appearance to look a bit older to me.  Certainly more of a mature gentleman.  Cain doesn’t look so young that he’d pass for a teenager, but he’s definitely got a “younger adult” look in comparison to Rire.  Which is hilarious considering that Rire is actually at least a couple thousand years younger than Cain I believe :P  

Second, the setup/predicament that MC walks into.  Both you meet in a nicer establishment.  With Rire, it ends up becoming a one-night stand the MC gets into that goes horribly wrong, resulting in them becoming a prisoner in their own house at Rire’s mercy.  Cain you meet by chance, have a nice little chat with, then you actually leave but he kidnaps you shortly afterward.  Instead of your home, MC is actually taken to where Cain stays.  So with one, your natural safe zone has now become a prison, while with the other you get taken far away to a place that’s unfamiliar to you that you have no power to leave yourself.  They’re both scary in different ways.  This kind of leads into the next bit.

Third, their restrictions.  Fun fact, Cain is likely the more powerful of the two.  But the funny thing is Cain doesn’t have as much freedom to move about as Rire does.  Rire is a demon royal and the king of his demon sector where he’s from.  Every now and then when he gets bored, he’ll pop into the earth realm to mess with some poor unfortunate soul.  It’s implied he’s done this on more than one occasion.  The only reason he doesn’t linger too long there is because a) he’s probably satisfied once he’s had his fill and b) if he’s the king, he’s probably got to make sure he’s not absent for TOO long from his sector, least some up and coming demon get the idea to usurp him.  Gotta let your people know you’re still the boss :P  Otherwise, no one’s probably looking for Rire to come back (he’s supposedly a bit of a tyrant).  

Cain on the other hang has actually broken out of prison recently (how recently is up for debate).  There are indeed other angels stronger than him looking to get him back in his cage, and of course he doesn’t want to go.  So he’s smart enough to keep out of sight long enough when he’s on earth.  When he goes to find a new toy though, he wants to savor the “playtime” more;  So he kidnaps them and brings them to his hiding place.  I guess you could say Rire has more freedom but less time when he’s enjoying himself, while Cain has more time to enjoy himself but less freedom to move about.

Fourth, powers.  Rire’s a little more physical, using mostly his tentacles (ichor) to torture someone.  Seeing as he can sprout as many as he’d like, keep people at a safe distance, and they can become both liquid or solid, he can get pretty creative.  He seems to have SOME control over a person’s psyche, but I think Darqx confirmed isn’t not really full on mind control.  He’s got more control of demons underneath him.  And it depends on how strong the person’s mind is (that’s why you can break free from it).  He’s likely got highly regenerative abilities.  He...MIGHT have teleportation, I can’t remember either in the game or Darqx’s notes (he might just be super good at sneaking up on you honestly).  And of course, he can take your soul if it’s part of a “deal.”

Cain’s got a larger repertoire of abilities.  He’s got a bit more mind control capability it would appear (according to Puke’s notes, more like getting people to admit truths and a minor telepathy bond).  So Cain’s a bit more capable of messing with your mind than Rire is.  Cain can disguise his physical form, as well as physically transform others into fallen angels or demons.  In one ending, it is implied he can either take control of someone’s soul...that or it’s more like “your soul belongs to me now” while you physically keep it.  Not sure.  He can heat things up (like boiling the bath) and manifests objects like roses and chains.  He seemed to be able to use “invisible forces” such as barriers and a weight on the MC as well.  He’s got quick regeneration, and he DEFINITELY can teleport.  So Cain’s more of a wild card than Rire because with the array of abilities he has, you won’t necessarily know where the danger is coming from before it’s too late.

Fifth, end game play.  Rire’s looking for a “quickie” in more ways than one.  The more entertaining the person, the longer he lets them live.  Ultimately though, you’re going to meet your doom at the end.  If he doesn’t like you enough, he’ll just kill you.  On the slim chance that he does end up liking the MC...then he gives them the choice of whether or not to live.  If they say they choose death, he gives it to them.  If they say otherwise...then he actually takes the victim’s soul for his collection.  I am aware now from reading Darqx’s blog that Rire can do a “mark” thing on someone he likes as a way of ownership...but a) that is probably INCREDIBLY rare for him to do, and b) I have no idea what happens after that (if he either takes his victim back home with him, or if he just lets them “free roam” and he comes back to “play” with them whenever he likes until he gets bored...and probably kills them).  My guess is he doesn’t really ever take any of his victims home.  If he ever feels “affection” for anyone...I have a funny feeling it wouldn’t be a good thing either.  He just plays with his victims wherever they’re at, kills them or takes their soul, and goes on his way.

Cain’s actually hoping for something a little more long-term.  He’s gone through the trouble of wandering around incognito when he’s a wanted criminal, so hopefully when he spots someone he fancies he doesn’t have to go replacing them too fast.  Like Rire though, he’s initially thinking of torturing and inevitably killing his victim.  UNLIKE Rire though, you do have a very slim chance of getting on Cain’s better side for a better ending than being trapped in a bottle for all eternity.  If you prove to remain entertaining to Cain, but he still will see you as a toy that’s beneath him, he’ll turn you into his demon minion.  If Cain feels more affection with you, he may start to view you as an equal.  Then you gives you the choice of either leaving of your own free will (sadly you can’t return to Earth though- gee thanks Cain :P), or staying with him and becoming a fallen angel.  Puke’s implied the MC has become more of Cain’s equal if he does this.  While again, still very difficult to gain Cain’s favor, my guess is the reason you’re more likely to meet a better end with Cain than you are Rire is because Cain was once a human.  Cain’s lived a long time, and while he is no where near good, he’d be more capable at sympathizing with others.  He also seems to have “quiet and thoughtful moments.”  Rire’s pretty much the very text book definition of a “demon.”  Cain’s a tad more complicated (but still very sadistic).

Yeah I just had to do this so I would stop lumping these guys together.  I love them both a whole lot and appreciate even the more minor differences between them.

[tumblunni]

Some more random thoughts and stuff for Completely Undeveloped Monster Petshop Game/I might end up calling it Moncrafter but I still don’t know if that sounds dumb or not. I NEED MORE NAME IDEAS!

* Monster Artisan? Monster Studio? Maybe try and think of other stuff that’s related to the alchemy crafting factor...

* And maybe there should be a catchy name for the monsters, rather than just calling them monsters? It kinda strikes me as something that’d make it TOO much of a Monster Rancher spiritual successor, yknow. That game kinda stands out in the genre for not having a name for the monsters! XD And I’ve decided that the origin of these guys is that they’re alchemically created familiars invented by rich folks with too much time on their hands. So maybe I should try and think of a more catchy way to say ‘homunculus’? Holms? Collect your holms! Craft your holms! Holm shop! Holm hugging! It could work! Also it’d kinda have a bit of sentimental attatchment for me, cos one of the hostels I used to live at was in Holmsdale Street. Homeless to holmfull! That place seriously saved my life. Alternatively, maybe ‘poppets’? Cos that’s cute sounding but it actually means the thing that pop culture calls a ‘voodoo doll’. They don’t really exist as part of vodoun religion, it was just a stupid stereotype that’s ended up engrained as common knowledge. Poppets were actually part of european and british superstition, so it sucks that nobody remembers this and you have people in those countries thinking of it as a big ol scary thing of someone else’s religion..

* I’ve been thinking about the creation methods for the holms, and thinking about it, and thinking about it SOME MORE, and seriously i’m practically writing actual petcare books in my head about these fictional critters!! I’m a lil grumpy tho cos we developed stuff a bit more and decided the plant dog would indeed have to be grass type, it’d be better to have something else be the main water type and just use the seaweed variant of the dog as the dual type crossbreed. Because it was REALLY CUTE imagining that idea of how you create them! Stirring a cauldron of magic potion until it clumps together into moss, and then refining and sieving it until you have a tiny barking marimo~ I can imagine that just a more traditionally elementally aligned version would be less endearing. Like a water type just pops out of the water and the rgass type grows in a regular plantpot. It doesn’t seem as fun as having to grow a sentient plant in a lil aquarium for dogs. ITS TWO THINGS! ITS TWO GREAT THINGS! So actually this makes me think about maybe if we make more of the creation spells involve different elements? And that could be like a positive set of elemental matchups, opposed to the negative ones in battle. So you could use your monsters to help make new monsters! And maybe the new baby dog picks up a good influence from its water type godparent, even though they don’t have any direct relation. Like, if you add fragments from parent monsters to the mixture, you get a fusion monster, but then the godparent could maybe add one extra skill inheritance, or maybe influence the stat build or personality values...?

* I was thinking that the maohs/whatever else I decide to call the grumpy fire fairies, well duh they’d be created from fire. So the alchemist crafts a candle with a special recipe, or maybe you have to write a spell in super small print on the wick? Yeah, that’d be cool, it’d be neat if they all had wildly different creation spells that all require different skills outside of just being good at magic. Hire a wandering calligrapher to assist in your pixie baking! Oh, or maybe with the positive elemental variations thing, perhaps light type monsters have really good calligraphy cos they’re the most Intelligence-specialized breed. Oh, or perhaps they’re good at helping to create dark types, cos they can cast more powerful shadows? BUT YEAH I imagined the fairy holms hatching in a weird cute way! The flame on the candle would burn continuously for several days, with the shape of the fairy growing in the centre. It would remain microscopic for 99% of its development, and then in the last hour or so the fire would blaze up to it’s full size! Keep sure to protect the workshop from this three minute doom bonfire, while also stoking it with coal so the baby grows up big and strong! By the time it subsides, you’ll have a fully formed child-sized monster, and probably half of a table left. :3 Also: imagine them chewing on logs instead of pacifiers!

* I had the odd idea that light types are created through song. Usually the holms require physical ingredients and some sort of recipe, but these ones get their reputation as holy creatures from the fact they come from nothing. There’s special hymns to summon them, and they have to be sung with enough skill, conviction, and purity of heart. So it still takes as much effort as other methods of alchemy, even though theoretically anyone could do it. Its even theoretically possible that you could summon a holy homunculus through ANY song, not just the special ones designed for that purpose. There’s tales of singing priests that’re just SO GOOD that holy beasts appear whenever they open their mouth! So they hold a vow of silence and only use this power in times of need. Though it could be considered a curse in other places, it’d suck to be a random opera singer and suddenly lose your career as a swarm of monsters divebomb the audience! And the even rarer ultimate tier legend is of the man who spoke words of such beauty that an angel appeared without even the need for song. Nobody has any record of this really happening, but it’s an enduring myth. The idea of finding that one perfect sentence that convinces gods to bend their will to you...! Or, on the other side of things, there’s the thought of someone whose intentions were so pure that even their most humble, inelegant plea for help could make the heavens cry. So yeah, a lot of potential in this idea of musical monster making~!

* Oh, and I think that after your song actually summons a light monster, they still go through the same ‘kinda like an egg without the egg’ phase that all the others do. Instead of being inside a candle or a cauldron, they’re just kinda... slowly phasing into our laws of reality. You can tell when a song summons a holy beast cos there will be a little glow in the air, like a snowflake frozen in mid-fall. And then it’ll slowly turn into a translucent outline of the monster, and then it eventually gains solidity and becomes fully aware. So they can be a little annoying because it’s completely impossible to move the egg once it’s appeared. You’re just stuck with this intangeable glowy blob that gets brighter every day- sucks if it appeared in the middle of your office! And it also means that it’s easier to accidentally create a monster. You might just not notice a speck of light that happened to land in an awkward place after your seemingly failed summoning. Then the poor lil thing hatches under the floorboards or something, and ends up wandering out all confused and becoming a scary stray monster in the woods! Homunculi aren’t really designed to be independant in the wild, they’re not merely domesticated but literally CREATED to serve humans... T_T

* OH and also the purpose of holy type holms is to be a ‘guidance’ familiar. They were crafted to be like an artificial computer that could potentially grow more intelligent than humans, and answer the great questions of the world. (Though, I mean, the equivelant of computers in an ancient magical civilization that has no idea what computers are!) These manmade angels are meant to be able to see into the future, and commune with the will of the real gods, and calculate things that aren’t humanly possible. They would be given seemingly high roles in society as advisors to great kings, with their opinions valued higher than any human in the country. But they had no real freedom, living their lives in cages with their only exposure to the outside world being their extensive programs of constant unceasing lessons in every discipline imagineable. Many of them would eventually snap under the pressure, leading to a reputation of the species as fiendish tricksters that live outside the boundaries of human morality and NEED to be restrained or else they’d be dangerous. This is likely why the rumours started of them being able to be summoned any time anyone speaks ANYTHING, with the implication that they might have existed forever and humans never really created them... So... yeah, they’re one of the few species of monster that’s actually seen some benefit from the art of alchemy becoming a hobby of the idle rich! Nowadays they’re just one in a million monsters that’re bred for status, with both their ‘holy’ and ‘demon’ reputations being long forgotten. And they get to see what it’s like to be pampered pets ^_^ Unfortunately, holy types are one of the longest living homunculi, so some elderly ones still remember those bygone eras and hold resentment towards humanity. Their secondary purpose of acting as living relics to the past... its kinda backfiring... (random idea for a boss battle, lol!)

[pelle-lavellan-a]

Vallaslin : Chapter 1

( the fanfic I’ve Ben working so much on XD )

“Soldiers…sighted in the woodlands nearby? Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

Word spread fast in the Clan, even for people who paid no heed to gossip. Living in such a small encampment meant everyone knew each other a little more intimately than most humans would be comfortable with. That meant everyone knew everything about one another, of course unless you took your business to the woods. For those in the Clan like Pelle, receiving news was as simple as happening to hear it from the adjacent conversations of others. That was his main source of information after all, most in the Clan seldom had time to speak to the healer.

It was all rather ironic really. The elf who makes your medicine, patches your wounds, and educates himself to aid you in the best way possible, is precisely the elf no one dare make time in their day for….unless they wanted something of course.

It mattered not to Pelle. He had the Halla, he had his books, what more did he need.? He’d known nothing else the last thirteen years of his life, and from the looks of it…he would learn nothing more for many years to come. After all, the boy had now been sixteen for several months and hadn’t even earned his vallaslin yet, if anything was prone to change it would have by now. The Keeper had stopped the vallaslin ritual saying that Pelle was not ready for it. Expressing pain was a sign of weakness and communicated that you were not ready to take on the responsibilities of an adult. How was he to ever ‘be ready’ when he’d spent his entire life sheltered in his studies? There was nothing he could do to change that.

He was doomed to live his life a Dalish healer second to an ever dreaming First, with no vallaslin, and a head full of knowledge no one cared to hear.

Pelle only sighed when he listened to his fellow Clansmen raving about nearby soldiers. He could feel his expression turning sour the longer they went on about it. They were acting like this was the first time they’d seen humans. It wasn’t like they didn’t openly trade with them for Mythal’s sake! It was impossible to read with them banting right outside of his tent. He wondered had they even seen soldiers, did they even know a soldier when they saw one? The young healer let out a frustrated groan before setting his book on the floor and heading towards the opening.

“I’m telling you Lethallin I saw them, with my own eyes!” said one of the hunters waving his hands in animated gestures.

“Be grateful you made it out with your life!” Said the other. “Shemlins are merciless, especially those Templars!”

“Aneth Ara, Fledge, Paran.” Said Pelle looking to the two Hunters outside his tent.

Immediately the two hunters halted their conversation firing Pelle an unpleasant look. “Are we interrupting your reading Pelledir?” Said Fledge with a sour expression.

“Hm?” Grunted Pelle. The young elf shook his head. “No, I was simply interested in your conversation.” He admitted.

“Why?” The other, Paran, asked sharply.

Pelle only sighed again. Was it really a crime to ask such a simple question? Did they not realize that the whole Clan and probably the Shem they were ranting about could probably hear them? “If you didn’t want me to ask then why stand so close to my door?” Pelle retorted.

The two stared at Pelle, then back to each other. They appeared to have a conversation between just the two of them using nothing but facial expressions. The young healer could feel his mouth beginning to turn downwards into a frown. Why were the two even contemplating letting him into the conversation? Didn’t they know he would just invite himself in if they continued to converse where they stood?

Pelle was becoming impatient now. He decided he would just begin to ask questions.“So, where did you see the soldiers?” Asked Pelle.

Both Fledge and Paran’s ears perked up irritably when Pelle began to speak again. The young elf only smirked at the two and shook his head. So they were discussing whether or not Pelle had permission to even talk to them. He wasn’t even sure himself why it was such an issue, the way they were talking it sounded as if they were afraid or threatened even, so why keep that to themselves? If anyone could help them it probably was Pelle.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Da'len?” Fledge inquired.

Pelle ignored the hostile tone in the other’s voice. It was almost laughable really, how angry the two were with Pelle for just letting himself in. If he was being honest he didn’t even care what they thought, it was a typical response. One Pelle was sure he would receive time and time again. He really did want to know what Fledge had seen, if what they saw was really dangerous he would have to inform the Keeper.

“Are you sure they were soldiers?” Pelle asked them with a tilt of his blond head. “If so they might be headed to Kirkwall. I doubt they would have time to pay the Dalish any attention.”

Fledge’s expression softened when he heard Pelle offer some kind of reassuring explanation. It was quite possible that soldiers might be flocking to Kirkwall. It was difficult to miss the word spreading across the Free Marches.They’d heard small bits about the Qunari trying to spread the Qun outwards, and about some supposedly psychotic Knight commander, or was it an extreme Head Enchanter? Only learning what little gossip came from traders the Dalish only knew so much.

“I’m sure they were. Only saw 'em for a few seconds.” Fledge replied folding his arms.

“Were they armed?” Asked Pelle.

“With bows, yes.”

Pelle’s left eyebrow rose in perplexity. “Just bows?” He repeated back quizzically. “How odd. Were they clad in Armor?”

“Leathers I believe.” Said Fledge.

“Ah.” Pelle nodded with understanding. “Those are poachers Fledge.” He informed the Hunter.

“Poachers?” Fledge cocked his head in question. “How can you be sure?”

“Soldiers typically carry swords for one. I also don’t believe that soldiers would wander the woodland route to reach Kirkwall, thirdly they would be wearing heavier armor if they were soldiers. Given the location it is more likely poachers come to hunt the halla.”

“How would you know?!” objected Paran angrily. “You never leave your tent! Why should we take your word?!”

“Enough Paran.” murmured Fledge.

Pelle gave the other a bored frown. “And yet I know a poacher from a soldier. Perhaps you ought to stay home more often, you might learn something Paran.”

Fledge quickly took hold of Paran before the other hunter had the time to seize Pelle by the collar of his shirt. “Fenhedis lasa!” shouted Paran.

Pelle’s only reaction to the insult was a nervous laugh. The healer took a large step back lifting up his hands defensively. “I….I’ll take my leave then.” He said swiftly just before ducking back clumsily into the tent.

Upon turning around, Pelle was greeted by yet another elf. It was the First, interestingly enough she had managed to sleep through Fledge and Paran’s banter. How, Pelle wasn’t so sure. However she hadn’t slept through Paran’s angry screams. Who could? The young woman was seated on the floor rubbing her eyes drowsily still nodding off once every few seconds.

“Oh! Aelin, did I um-” He was going to ask if he and the hunters had woken her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that. “How was your nap?”

Aelin groaned sleepily. “I wasn’t napping.” She corrected him half-heartedly. “I was studying.”

Pelle gave her a soft smile. “Dreaming into the Fade?” He asked her.

The First nodded slowly still rubbing the palm of her hand against her eye. “I was exploring.” She began. “It really is amazing how much you can learn in the Fade, I’ve learned so much in the Fade that books could never teach me.”

Of course she would say that. The First despite being the next in line as Keeper couldn’t read a single letter. She’d always insisted that dreaming into the past was far more effective than studying the educated guesses of scholars. Her logic behind this was that scholars could change history into whatever they wanted through prose, Pelle however could say the same about the Fade. No matter how you looked at it, the past would always be twisted by the ideals of others. There was no escaping it.

“I’m just glad you did not attract any demons. Means you didn’t find anything good right?” Said Pelle giving her a sardonic smirk.

The First gave a disapproving frown as she took hold of her right arm and pulling it back to stretch. She did not grace Pelle with a response to his question, instead she looked away. Even further proof her gushing over the Fade just now was a mask to hide her disappointment. Pelle wasn’t an idiot, he knew that in the Fade you could only see things within places you’d been before. She was in a tent in the middle of their encampment…there was nothing interesting to see here.

Pelle couldn’t resist smiling warmly at the First while she pouted. He wandered further into the tent and knelt down in front of her brushing her wild hair back into place. “Ir abelas Aelin.” He chuckled. “You may be able to fool Fen, but I know why you really wander off with the hunters. You aren’t interested in hunting with them are you?”

The First smiled back giving her raven black hair a toss to finish up Pelle’s handiwork. “You think you’re pretty perceptive don’t you?” She teased.

“I don’t think.” He said with a goofy grin. “I know.”

To this Aelin laughed. “Then you must know I’m running out of places to sleep?” She inquired.

Pelle nodded. “You wouldn’t have joined me otherwise. Sounds like they found some poachers hunting the halla earlier. Poor sods thought they were looking at soldiers.”

“Soldiers? In the forest?” mused Aelin. “Soldiers would have sooner taken the roads before they risked being attacked by savages!” She declared before bursting into a hearty laughter.

The First’s laughter was contagious, even more so because he’d been resisting laughing in Fledge and Paran’s idiocy once he’d realized their big scary soldiers were nothing more than a bunch of illegal hunters. The healer soon found himself laughing with her until tears struck his eyes. While most people in the Clan regarded him as strange, or not worth the time, the First was among the short list of people who did not. She was also the only person on the list who did not live there only half the time. The Keeper and his brother only occasionally made that list.

“Hey Pelle.” Said Aelin between her lingering giggles. “Speaking of the hunters, there is a cave to the east of here the I found while wandering around with Fen the other day. I think there’s some old elvhen ruins inside but I couldn’t convince him to watch over me while I slept let alone set foot into the cave.”

“That definitely sounds like my brother. Why bring it up?” Pelle asked her though he was pretty sure where this was going.

“Well…” She began. “As you know I have been running out of places to sleep…and this place looks rather promising.”

“You want me to go with you don’t you?” Was all Pelle had to say before the First answered him quick as an arrow leaving a bow.

“If you don’t mind!” She blurted out. “I…just need someone to watch over my body lest it come to harm. There aren’t always threats in small caves but there are occasionally spiders.”

Spiders? Had Aelin not been his adoptive sister and his only friend he’d have said no immediately once she said spiders. It was only the First’s skill with a knife that had convinced him that venturing into the cave might not be so bad…so long as the spiders steered clear of him. He really hated spiders, the small ones that occasionally crept into his books were bad enough. He had never seen a cave spider and honestly he was sure he would live a happier life if he never did.

“How many spiders do you typically see?” Pelle asked her. Just to be safe he’d better ask. Already if Aelin planned to sleep there was a chance he might have to deal with a few demons, Dreamers always attracted demons.

“I wouldn’t say anymore than three or four.” She replied. “They won’t attack if you feed them.” She remarked.

“Feed them?” Said Pelle quizzically. “Feed them what?”

“Meat of course. I may be a Dreamer buuuut.” She began standing up and reaching for an old sack in the corner. “I don’t wander with the hunters just to explore.” She said opening the sack to reveal some meat from some poor animal.

Pelle wrinkled his nose with disgust. “Aelin…why did you do that?"He asked.

"So that you had something to feed the spiders.” She stated as if the answer were clear. She shifted the bag slightly to pull it back to her side. Pelle’s resin eyes widened when he saw what looked like a pair of antlers stick out from the bag.

“Is that a Halla?!” He exclaimed reaching his pale hands out to the sack and taking a second look inside. “It is! Aelin!” He fussed.

“I had Andruil’s blessing.” Was the only excuse she gave him.

The young healer let out a long exasperated sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You could relax? That sounds like a wonderful place to start.” Aelin advised retrieving the sack back from Pelle and slinging it over her back. “I’m ready to leave, grab whatever you need and let’s go.”

“I…” Pelle tried to concoct a reason not to follow. She hadn’t even waited for his consent to wander off into the woods with her. She was just assuming he would come…and damn her she was right in believing so. Pelle had no interest in watching her body or feeding Halla to some vile spiders. In fact, he wouldn’t be caught dead even touching the dead flesh Aelin so carelessly slung onto her back. The only thing that made him follow was the promise that there would be ruins. If what she said was true, then Pelle would want to see it. He may not have been able to dream into the Fade like the First but he could certainly gather remnant and pieces of the past. Pelle took nothing more with him than a small leather journal, a quill, and a bottle of ink, before following the First out into the woods.   

[howtotrainyournana]

The Wandering Advertisement Sign of Gravity Falls, Oregon

Hey so guess who’s back with ANOTHER fic? :D I’m on a roll apparently XD (don’t be fooled, this will not continue; I just got a whole new load of homework ha ha ha ha). This is a gift-fic for the lovely @llyrica, who is one of my dearest friends and who is conspiring with me to put together a fan-made Journal 1 and Journal 2 for Gravity Falls (you can check out my stuff here (along with reblogs of stuff she’s done, for what is going to be in it; and if you have any ideas as well, please let us know :3). 

This fic is also a sequel to this lovely fic by llyrica, which I’ve actually added this fic onto. Anyway, please enjoy!

-Nana Graye

Summary: So many strange and heroic things happened during Weirdmaggedon that many were lost to time and memory. Many of these stories were small, in the grand scheme of things, yet infinitely important in bringing about a happy ending. Here are the tales of one such forgotten hero, the wandering advertisement sign of Gravity Falls, Oregon.

When the world ended, most people in town fled aimlessly in terror. Those who stayed put were either turned to stone or forced to flee eventually from the monsters and horrors too terrifying and otherworldly to comprehend.

And so, they wandered.

Some found refuge in mountain caves. Some in collapsed buildings. Some in bunkers hidden in the woods. Some in the burned-out husks of cars. But hide as they might nowhere, it seemed, was safe.  The monsters and flying eyes of doom would find them and flush them from their safe spots. Some were taken. Others found refuge in never-ending travel, too weary to keep walking but too scared to stop. So they kept going. Aimless. Hopeless. Helpless.

It was then that they would see it.

Most screamed and fled immediately, and it would slink back into the shadows.

Some would charge blindly at it, hoping to scare it away with the sheer force of their terror and anger. And they would.

Still others would simply stop, the fight leaving them, eyes closed and too tired and too gone to bother running from the inevitable.

And it was to these few poor, lost, broken souls that it would come, walking steadily and primly on two steel legs to show them the way: the wandering blue highway sign advertising the Mystery Shack.

It was worse for the wear after the apocalypse, to be sure. The blue paint was scuffed and faded from tiffs with the new invading monsters. A corner of the Mystery Shack sign was torn off and the whole thing was nearly illegible from age or from fire, it was hard to tell. But it didn’t matter. The sign still had an attraction listed on it, so it still had a job to do.

The first poor soul it came across was a little girl in a torn-up dress, curled up behind a tree on the road out of town. The sign had been following her at a distance until she collapsed. When it cautiously stooped over her, she simply blinked up at it. They stared at each other for a while before a spark of recognition at the name of the advertised attraction brought a mumble of surprise from her lips. Taking it as an affirmation, the sign straightened up and set off on its path, the girl straggling along behind it. When they reached the clearing the sign stopped. It had tried to get closer before but some new force seemed to keep it away from the building.

Which is just as well. A sign’s job is away from the attraction it’s advertising, after all.

The girl cautiously made her way to the Shack. Before she even got to the door it creaked open and another girl, a small blonde in a purple dress, burst through the doorway and flung her arms around her. The sounds of relief echoing back to the sign told it enough. It had done its job.

The second poor soul it came across was a short police officer. The man was stumbling through the forest clutching an old photograph and ran straight into the sign’s legs, dropping the picture in the process. The sign waited patiently for the man to pick it up - it must have been of someone very important to him from the way he scrambled to find it and tenderly brushed the dirt from it. The officer followed it easily enough, seeming to understand it meant no harm.

The third soul it came across was a bear with multiple heads. A few of them were injured and complaining at having to keep walking, but most were silent. The bear followed the sign with only a brief hesitation. Maybe it recognized that the sign was born from the same native anomalous nature as itself, rather than the threatening foreign power raging around them. Regardless, the sign accomplished its mission effectively and another soul found its way to the Mystery Shack.

The next souls it came across were a group of tiny men with pointy red hats. They followed easily as well, but they did bite.

The next soul it came across was another anomalous creature like itself, though this one offered a much more complex problem than the others. The unicorn was half-petrified when the sign found her, only barely able to walk. She eyed the sign warily with her one good eye as it leaned down close to her, the picture of the Mystery Shack taking up the whole of her vision. She snorted in derision at it at first but soon gingerly touched her horn to the picture in longing. The sign took that as permission and bent down, scooping her up as one scoops things with a shovel. She flailed in terror for a moment before calming, and the trip to the Shack was relatively uneventful.

This isn’t how most signs bring people to the attractions they advertise. But I’m not exactly most signs, am I? Anything to get the job done, after all.

It left her near the border of the barrier, and the kind bear and little men from before helped her inside the Shack.

The next soul it came across was a man-beast creature. The sign usually steered clear of these creatures, as they had a tendency to chase it down and try to punch it. But this one seemed almost docile in comparison and besides, a sign’s job is to tell lost people where to go. It led the creature to the Shack with the others and was not surprised when the others kindly welcomed it inside.

The last souls it came across were a large group of humans. They seemed rather better than most who wandered the newly-made wasteland, but it didn’t matter to the sign - here were more people to bring to the attraction it advertised. When it popped out from behind the trees the group let out a collective shout. The identical blonde men grouped themselves protectively around the two small girls present. A man with a petrified woodpecker on his shoulder cringed back, shielding the frozen bird with one hand. The old man leading the group shouted, grabbing at the tattered hat on his head and flinging a wrench at the sign. It pinged harmlessly off the metal of the sign, right on the advertisement for the Mystery Shack. One of the girls pointed and shouted excitedly at the sign in a voice far too deep for a girl her age, the other joining in a second later in slightly accented chatter.

They seem to have been headed to the Mystery Shack anyway. Very well. I can still be their guide.

The sign stood still. The old man scrutinized it curiously before a spark of recognition stirred in his eyes. He gaped at it before turning to the others and gesturing for them to follow him again. The sign turned, leading them in nearly the same direction they had been going. They were only a few minutes away when everything went wrong.

The group scattered at the flap of wings, taking to the trees to escape the petrifying gaze of the eyebat that had spotted them. The sign spun in a circle, unsure of who to follow - how was it ever going to lead them all to the Mystery Shack if they were scattered or worse, petrified?

The old man knows how to get there, I’m sure of it, it thought, but what about the others?

The eyebat bore down on the two girls, who had sprinted back the way they had already come (in the opposite direction of the Shack and of safety) and made the decision for it.

The sign turned and ran full-tilt into the eyebat, knocking it away from the terrified girls and capturing its attention. The sign gestured towards the Shack with one of its legs before doing something it had never, in all of its existence, done.

It deliberately led something away from the attraction it advertised.

As it ran back into the forest with the eyebat hot on its tail, the sign caught a glimpse of the girls and the old man and the other humans, now regrouped and running in the direction of the Shack. If it had had a face, it would have smiled.

They eyebat caught the sign right at the edge of the highway into town, near the welcome sign. It froze midstep, both feet on the ground but one forward as though perpetually travelling, the sign for the Mystery Shack still visible even in stone.

Later, when the weirdness had been lifted from the town and the sign unfroze, it would wander back to the Mystery Shack to see if the people it had led there were still safe. The Shack was in disrepair but was actively being restored to its former glory. The kind old man who had originally given it the sign that became its purpose was supervising the work near the treeline, his back to the forest. The sign hesitated at the edge of the woods.

No one wants a sign that walks the insidious little voice from long ago whispered.

The sign prepared to step back when the man spoke without turning around.

“You’re a good sign, you know that?”

The words froze it in place. Unsure of what to do it stood still until the man continued with a chuckle at his own joke.

“Not gonna lie, I thought you were pretty disappointing for a while, when I was using you as an attraction at the Shack. After all, who wants a sign that just stays still?”

… Wait, what?

“But then I heard that when all that weirdness hit and everybody and their brother were runnin’ helter-skelter all over the place lookin’ for a safe place to hide, you’d find ‘em and bring ‘em here. That took guts,” he said, voice softening uncharacteristically. He seemed to realize this a moment later and hurriedly added, in his typical gruff way, “Not that it wasn’t a hassle on me, having to share my resources and stuff.”

“But,” and here the man turned to face the sign, “that was a real good thing you did. Heh, you lived up to the name I stuck on ya! It’s the home of a hero, after all!” he grinned, puffing out his chest, and gestured up at the sign.

But I was just doing my job, it wanted to say.

The bravado dropped and the man turned sheepish, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck to rub at it. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, thank you. Ugh, still hurts. Old Fiddlenerd told me what you did for him and his group - that you saved Mabel’s friends from getting petrified or killed. I’m not gonna lie, she woulda been crushed if anything had happened to them. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know,” he said, smile soft on his face.

His face fell a bit as he continued. “But sometimes that comes with a pretty big pricetag on it. So many times it’s dangerous to care,” he whispered.  

The sign waited, unsure of what to do.

The man remained silent for a while longer before seeming to rouse himself. “Enough of that sappy stuff from me though,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He gestured at the sign to come forward out of the woods before turning and walking back towards the Shack and the people diligently repairing it. When the sign hesitated he turned back and gestured more emphatically, with a loud, “C’mon! I don’t have all day!” The sign quickly caught up with him and tailed him closely.

They walked around to the front of the Shack, where all of the people whom the sign had led to safety (and many, many others it had only seen from a distance) busied themselves with repairs, games, and the picnic lunch provided by Greasy’s diner. Several people turned as Stan yelled a greeting, and the rest turned at the exclamations from those who turned.

“Well jelly my beans, if it ain’t the mobile sign what saved our lives back yonder!” The old man with the beard scrambled over to the sign, smacking it affectionately on one of its metal legs. Alarmed, the sign stood still. “That was a right good thing ya did back then. You’re one right fine sign, by gum! Nothin’ like havin’ a travelin’ sign to follow to safety when all hell breaks loose!”

… what? Does he mean … does he think a travelling sign is GOOD? That’s the second time someone has said that today. What is going on?

The two little girls it had rescued from the eyebat ran over next, the larger girl wrapping one of its legs in a bear hug and physically lifting it off the ground. The sign flailed in midair and ended up sitting on the ground with its legs splayed out, if you can imagine a road sign sitting like a person. If it had had a face, it would have been a mask of pure shock and bewilderment.

“Oops,” grinned the girl, clearly unashamed.

“Thank you very much for saving our lives,” the other, smaller girl said, straightening her glasses. “You are a very reliable road sign and very dedicated to travelers. You are like a road guardian!” The other girl threw her arms in the air and yelled in agreement.

I guess they’re not wrong, the sign mused. But I was just doing my job, really.

The other creatures and humans it had rescued gathered around it, offering similar praises and encouragements and acknowledgements. They all seemed to have a similar theme though, one that blew the sign’s mind:

They were all so happy that it was a sign that walked that they ran into.

It got its biggest surprise when a young girl in a bright pink sweater walked up to it and gave it the biggest hug her tiny arms could give.

“Thank you,” she said, “for saving my friends.”

She hugged it for a while longer before beaming up at it excitedly. “Now, who wants to help me give this heroic old sign a makeover!?”

Uh oh.

Two hours and several cans of paint and Rust-B-Gone later and the sign felt brand-new. The Mystery Shack advertisement had been completely updated and the blue paint of the sign buffed and touched up. In addition, various members of the town had added their own logos and advertisements - Greasy’s Diner, the local laser-tag center, the Gravity Falls Public Library, the biker bar downtown, the local State Park, Hoo-Ha Owl’s Pizzamatronic Jamboree, even the Historical Museum had added their piece. Several of the teenagers from town – a redhead and a darkly dressed boy specifically – took the opportunity to spray paint some appropriate graffiti along the back of the sign to “give it a cool, edgy look.” The crowning glory of it all, however, were the words painted in glistening black paint along the top of the sign:

Attractions of Gravity Falls Oregon

If the sign had had a face, it would have been smiling so wide its cheeks hurt. Instead, it took to leaning down and affectionately (and carefully) bopping all of the kind townsfolk and creatures on their heads. There was laughter at its antics, and some affectionate bopping back.

I finally have a place to belong, the sign thought.

The kind old man stepped up to it, fists braced on his hips. “Now, I think it’s about time you hit the road, don’t you think?”

The sign froze. What? I just found a place to belong at and he wants me to … why? What did I do wrong?

The man continued, a grin wide on his face. “After all, a walking sign is so much better than one that just stays in one spot, am I right? Free mobile advertising!”

There was cheering and agreement from the crowd. Everyone was smiling up at the sign expectantly, waiting for an answer that it couldn’t give. After a few uncertain moments of looking around, it dawned on the sign what everyone was thinking.

They all want a sign that walks, rather than one that stays put, the sign thought in wonder. I’m … I’m useful, and wanted, and appreciated, after all. The sign would have wept, but it had no tears to weep with.

Instead, it leaned down one last time to the kind old man that had given it a place to belong in the first place.

Thank you, it thought. Thank you. I will do my best to make you proud. The man grinned again, affectionately patting the face of the newly-painted sign. “Hey now, don’t get sappy on me. Hurry up and go do your job. I don’t pay ya to lollygag about!” The old man made a shooing motion with one hand and pointedly looked away from the sign, crossing his arms. He was still grinning.

The sign stood and looked around one last time. I’m going to miss this place, it thought with a sudden pang of sadness. In a second though it was gone again, replaced with an even happier thought.

I finally have a home to tell others about. A home I can always come back to.

After all, I am a walking sign.

Freshly painted and bearing the advertisements and pride of the town it could now properly call home, the walking sign strode away with a new spring in its step, off to bring the weirdness and wonder of Gravity Falls to the rest of the world.

As it was always meant to do.

There you are my dears! Enjoy! :D

-Nana Graye