#this is actually somewhat related to an AU of mine

[keiraspades]

pla hc no.21

damn its been a hot minute

ANYWHORES

Akari gives off PA vibes. Like,, Bitchy assistant who doesn’t like the job but loves the pay™️

And she loves seeing people squirm

she loves it.

She loves watching volo panic as he realizes that he never told her about that myth.

She loves watching Ingo stare off as she goes on about Trains and ghost/fire pokemon(see hc 11) and he wonders how she knows about that.

Akari knows things she shouldn’t.

So, at the Temple of Sinnoh Battle against Kamado, she smiles. It’s not kind, and it is filled with teeth. It holds specks of blood, and a manic giddiness behind. Akari smiles while she seethes, and speaks.

“For one who has outlived his village, you sure are underestimating those who can keep all of their people accounted for.”

And Kamado freezes. Kamado gives Akari an opening. Not one she needed, but one that made things quite fast.

“Whisp, Focus Blast.”

And she took his last pokemon.

His snorlax, down with one move.

He stared, and broke out with a gasp, “how?”

Akari smiled.

She turned away, and walked into the temple.

She knew what the others wouldn’t, and what they couldn’t acknowledge she remembered, and she listened.

She listened to the dead, to the overworked employees of Yveltal, and she learned.

She learned the whispers of the betrayed, and the screams of the forgotten.

Akari wouldn’t forget.

Akari would continue for them.

She would force whoever she needed to back into place, and keep this Arceus forsaken continent alive and well.

Because she owed it.

She owed it to the boss, to Yveltal itself, and she paid her dues, playing the role of a sassy kid who knew.

She would always know, as her deal stated.

Know the faces, know what was learned, know what hasn’t been discovered, and know what has and hasn’t happened no matter what.

All she had to do, was perform a job for Arceus.

And she’ll be damned if she doesn’t make it fun.

[raeofsunshin]

fuck it, self indulgent gravity falls AU. I’ve labeled it “Bonus Aunt.” Scalene gets ‘reincarnated’ and thrown out of the portal when Ford gets pulled in. She helps run the Mystery Shack. No ones told her son’s a dream demon (yet).

more misc au facts/hcs under the cut :3

- Goes by Selene Cyprus mostly in solidarity with Stan having to go by Stanford. Chose the last name bc she just assumed all last names had to be tree related (it also sounded similar.) She mostly calls Stan ‘Pines’ bc she kept getting confused on which name he actually went by.

- is just a human. Very thrown off by this and gets varying degrees of dysphoric about it from time to time. Existing in 3D is a blessing and a curse.

- The eyepatch isn’t to cover up a missing eye, her eye is fine- it’s somewhat of an accessibility aid as removing depth perception decreases the already wild sensory overload of the 3D world. Stan found one in the cabin and gave it to her sometime in the 80s.

- She fully thinks Bill is dead for a looooong time, it’s only around Sock Opera when pieces start actually clicking. There’s of course things beforehand but “your kid destroyed the world in part because of something about him you tried to ‘fix’” is something you put in a box labeled “open never” sooooo

- Blue Lady meaning the same thing like. the Purple Lady and Green Lady are. Old lady with a Theme. Everything she owns is blue.

- Bill avoids her like the plague for NO REASON SHUT UP- he’s not touching that emotional mine field with a 10 ft pole

- is even more against the twins interacting with the Weirdness of Gravity Falls than Stan, not by much but by an amount. The idea of them getting hurt in pursuit of proving the Weirdness to her eventually wins out over it being extremely dangerous eventually. (Re; Stan in the zombie episode)

- genderqueer in the sense that she insists triangle is a gender bc it was. However-

- helps rebuild the portal, math is pretty intuitive to her

Art motivation comes in mysterious ways.

[isa-belle1367]

So this is gonna be my AU where all of desmonds ancestors follow desmond around in spirit form (also including other assassins who aren't his ancestors), but this little story is taking place during ac3 when William hit desmond so...ya (this is probably gonna be really bad lmao) also plz do not ship desmond with anyone most of them are related, that's weird

Btw Kass isn't here bc she is still alive, so alexios is here instead

I woke up from the animus, still shocked about what I had heard. Haythem was a Templar.

I always got weird vibes from haythem, but I never thought he would be a Templar.

Over to my left, Altair was sitting on the floor next to Malik, I knew Rebecca and Shaun couldn't see them, not unless they allowed themselves to be seen. Which worked in my favor, I wouldn't even know where to begin to explain this

I wasn't even fully sure what they were or why they were here. At first, I thought it had something to do with them being my ancestors, but with Malik here, I knew that couldn't be the case. Bayek and Aya had also confirmed this.

Altair glanced at me and smiled before going back to his conversation with Malik, which was fine by me because I had more pressing matters to worry about.

"You all saw that, right?" I asked while sitting up.

"Wow," Rebecca looked shocked

"Wow indeed," shaun said, nodding

I glanced to the side, Connor was sitting with his head down. Connor had just started showing up recently, but I already liked him, so it hurt me to see him sad, especially over his father being a Templar.

"The key must be the amulet haythem took from London." I said

Bayek came up behind me. "Your father is behind you."

I nodded, I knew most of my ancestors didn't really like my dad, so they always took it upon themselves to warn me when he was near.

I heard my dad speak up. "We might know what it looks like, but we are no closer to finding it. Desmond, you need to keep going."

I stood, turning to my dad. Next to him, Altair and Malik were now up, glaring daggers at him. Well, everyone was except for Rebecca and Shaun, but Altair and Malik looked ready to gut him.

I could feel their rage, everyone's rage. I guess it comes with having ghosts tied to your soul. You get to feel their emotions.

"Hey, he's your ancestor too. Why don't you hop in the animus?" Normally, I wouldn't have said anything, but it was really hard not too when I felt the anger of 9 people flowing through me.

"Really? That's your response? It's like dealing with a 6-year-old." He stated rolling his eyes

If I thought Altair looked angry before now, he looked furious, but Altair wasn't who I was focused on. It was Connor. Out of everyone, his rage was the strongest. I glanced over and saw Edward next to Connor. At least Edward is there to keep him somewhat calm.

"What is wrong with you, desmond?" William asked, walking around the animus to get closer to me.

I walked over to him, and I could feel my emotions boiling over.

"You wanna know what's wrong? I'm sick of being treated like I'm not even here! Desmond, do this. Desmond do that. Desmond, you better figure things out, or the sun will kill us all.

And I know I was really nice to you, but I'm actually just another Templar plot twist. And yes, I would very much like for you to be controlled by a magic space wizard so that you can murder me. So there's your answer. I'm sick of being your pawn. I thought you might be different, but it turns out you're no better then the fucking Templars."

But before I could even really register what I said and apologize, pain shot through my face. I stumbled back, shocked, and then I was blinded by a bright flash.

I blinked, realizing what I had just said. I knew that those weren't my words coming from my mouth. Well, maybe a few words were mine.

Once the light dimmed, I looked over to see my dad flying to a wall, with Altair and ezio already running towards him with murder in their eyes.

I cursed, sprinting after them

"Altair, Ezio! Stop!" I called out

Luckily, my dad wasn't too far, and I was able to get to him quickly, but the bad news was that Altair and ezio were quicker and already had their weapons drawn. Along with bayek, Jacob, and evie.

"Altair, don't hurt him, you too, Ezio. Bayek, if you shoot my dad, I'm confiscating your bow and Jacob if you throw that bomb. I swear." I called out, just trying to get these fully trained assassins to take a breath and NOT kill my dad.

Altair and ezio frowned at me, clearly disappointed, bayek lowered his bow, and Jacob whispered something to evie.

"Jacob, if you're planning something, stop it."

I sighed, I loved these guys, but they can really be a handful sometimes.

"What they hell was that?" My dad questioned while rubbing his head.

Oh, right, I forgot that to him. He just randomly got blasted across the room, then saw me yelling at seemingly nothing.

I was about to say something, but Alexios was standing behind my dad holding a sword, looking like he was about to spear my dad

I groaned and held my hand out. Alexios rolled his eyes before handing me the sword. It materialized in my hand, I set it over to the side where he couldn't get it before turning back to my dad.

I rubbed my eyes. How the hell was I going to explain this.

Before I could figure out what I was going to say, Malik appeared next to me, but now he didn't appear as transparent. He was still transparent, but you could only tell if you looked long enough. I knew my dad could see him now, too.

He grabbed my face, examining it. "Your nose is bleeding, though it doesn't appear to be broken."

I glanced at my dad, the poor man looked horrified.

I turned to him, pulling away from Malik. I offered a hand to him.

"Why don't you go have Shaun and Rebecca make sure you're not hurt, I'll explain everything in a second."

Malik grabbed my arm, raising an eyebrow. He gave me a look that said, "Are you sure about this."

I nodded, and he let go of my arm. "You're too kind for your own good." He stated in Arabic

After helping my dad up and making sure he could still walk, I turned to Altair and ezio.

"Really? he punched me, and you threw him into a stone wall!" I said exasperated.

Malik handed me a tissue, "Your nose is still bleeding."

"Not the point." I said while I dabbed at my nose with the tissue

I noticed Shaun, Rebecca, and William starting at me. "You know there is no point in keeping yourselves hidden now." I announced to my ancestors.

Jacob grinned, making himself visible along with evie. Bayek and Aya followed, then connor and Edward, and soon everyone was visible.

I glanced back over at shaun and Rebecca, and now they looked scared but also extremely confused. I sighed, I should probably explain everything to them before scolding Altair for throwing my dad.

I began to walk over to them, but bayek appeared next beside me, grabbing my shoulder

"Are you sure you don't want us to....handle your father." Bayek asked in Egyptian.

"No, you are not going to harm my dad mentally, emotionally, or physically." I responded in Egyptian. I didn't think my dad needed to hear that a bunch of skilled assassins wanted him dead.

I walked over to William and the others, ezio and Connor, following closely. I smiled. ezio had been kinda protective over me since he first came here, and while I hadn't gone through connors memories yet, I had a pretty good idea why he was weary of my dad.

"So I guess I should explain."

sorry if this is bad. This is very rushed, but I have had this idea in my head for about a week

Btw in case I didn't name everyone, the assassins following desmond are Altair, Malik, ezio, Aya, bayek, evie, Jacob, Connor, and Edward, (haythem shows up sometimes with shay)

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week (2024): Day 2

Prompts: Multichaps/Villains! (catching up slowly but surely~)

Multichaps:

Shark Bait: ALRIGHT CONFESSION I haven't actually *read* this one yet ONLY because I know it's going to soooooo good and it's going to change my brain chemistry so I'm waiting until I am Emotionally Prepared but UWAH just the premise alone should be enough to entice you: Movie!verse with completely secret identities, and Lloyd/Green Ninja trying to take matters into his own hands...only for irony to make them worse, as is the story of his life. This author is already a legend as it is so who needs a summary GO READ GO READ NOW!!

Ninjago: The Nya Perspective: SINCE this masterpiece favorite of mine just updated not too long ago, there's no better time than to recommend it once again! Have you always wanted more from Nya in the early seasons?! Have you always wanted more of HER side of story?! Have you wonder how Nya became the person she is today?! Well wonder no longer for this story has got those answers and more!!!!

Sharpen the Scythe, Before He Reaps: Another that I've started but never finished, it's a reworking of the Day of the Departed, so you know it's FULL of Ghost!Cole goodness, from the good to the angsty!! And what I've read so far is sooo soul-grabbing (pun somewhat intended) and makes me wish DotD was even half as introspective as this jhgfdgfd

Thank You For Giving Me Wings: Over a year later and this is still my only multi-chap ninjago fic (...that, uh, isn't Legacyverse nor OC-related, oop). Still, it's never a bad time to have a little introspective on Wu bonding with his students over the years, moreso as family than anything else <3

All I'm Asking For: Quite possibly one of my very favorite Ninjago fics ever, it is REQUIRED reading as far as I'm concerned! Cole's the anchor character, but it follows EVERYONE in a slightly-altered aftermath of March of the Oni, with everyone recuperating, figuring out what's next for them with their lives and relationships, and spiced up with a little Christmas flair <3

Mechanical Hearts: A story I've been keeping an eye on for a while, it's a college Jaya au with plenty of Jay+Cole dynamic spread on top, and the way the author (hi Finn!!) writes all the characters is so deep even in the lighter moments and makes all the senes in the world for the setting they're in, and I love all the little nods to canon or the cheeky changes made along the way–it's so enjoyable!

Villains:

for want (for nothing): Not technically a villain, but Kai's certainly an antagonist here ooooooooh (a different, heart-wrenching take on the Kai-Lloyd confrontation in S4)

Lord Garmadon Is Not Impressed With the Future: Another one I've recced before, but now it has an equally villainous SEQUEL so I've gotta get everyone on the train again! And this story's got villain!Garmadon and villain!Garmadon-but-having-a-personal-crisis upon realizing that his future is...not at all what he wanted. And he also discovers himself beating the life out of his own son–so yeah. We definitely can't have THAT. Good stuff, good stuff.

Bucket List: Might be a slight cop-out since this is moreso about Kai BUT it IS my favorite Morro-related fic, and he is a villain, thus it fits! (...Plus I gotta put at least three stories in this section, c'mon). Anyway, Kai allows Morro to possess him for less-than-ideal reasons and presents a fascinating dynamic between the two and what it means to truly live and take responsibility (the good, the bad, the ugly, and all). Be mindful of the tags and warnings, though!

Outgrown (from Spider Lily's Claws): I knew I almost forgot a Harumi one! DR-fic in which Harumi stumbles across the monastery looking for a place to recuperate, and a company-starved Lloyd welcomes her to stay. A fascinating look at a Harumi who's still got her "Evil" instincts but is still trying to act in her best interests, while Lloyd...is Lloyd hgfhgd. I love their back-and-forth bad-idea-good-idea dynamic here a LOOOOOT

[factual-fantasy]

25 ASKS! WAHOO! :DD 🎉🎉🎉

Oooo what would DJMM be? A full sized birthday cake perhaps? XD

(Post in question)

:0 It was?? Thank you! :DD I'm glad you got some use out of it! <XD

(Post in question)

XDD She probably has, and no doubt she'll do it again!

@scally-wiggles716

:DD Thank you so much!! I'm glad you like the way I made him!! :}}} 💖💖💖

@badlyblurry

I mean.. sending me a drawing of your character that has nothing to do with any of my stuff? None of my characters are in it or anything? I don't see anything wrong with that..

But still, comments/asks are the easiest, safest and absolute best way to show your appreciation for my artwork. Genuinely, it is.

Oh its a horrible place. Its a kingdom ruled by a corrupt and evil king. The royal guard is corrupt and full of mostly evil snobs that abuse their power. There's plenty of food but none of it is given to the people.

Everyone is overworked, everyone is starving, there's murders in the streets. Its awful..

@khoiazo

@elegysonnet

<XD I've heard of Murder Drones but I never got around to watching it for a shallow reason. That reason being- now don't kill me!-... I don't like the art style 💔 specifically the way the characters look/are shaped. I know that's not a great reason to not watch something but its why I didn't want to watch it- 😭💔💔

Yes yes! Its the two golden kids. Although they aren't a reference to the missing children-

Its a bit hard to tell, but its supposed to be little Stanley and Stanford pines from Gravity falls! <XDD

(Also thank you!! :DD )

@shaziztrazh

All I can say is those smiles are creepy! Put some teeth in there and close that mouth! XDD

I actually have yet to draw him. I should do that sometime-

Just imagine the Spade King but much bigger and more.. grotesque..

(Post in question)

@couchwow

@beryl-shade

Oh yeah its very likely :00

@null-hydrangea (Post in question)

OOOO THAT'S REALLY MORBID AND ANGSTY-- But sadly no <XDD Its just an artificial separation anxiety of sorts.

@the-faketiccit0by

XD I'm glad! :}}

@syntaxgardenstudios

Woah, that sounds like a cool character! :D

Also thank you!! I'm glad you like my Octonauts stuff! :}} I'm sure I'll come back to it sometime XDD

@skeletormasterofevil (Post in question)

The buddy system is an A.I. programming that I created solely as a tool to make angst

The buddy system is a connected A.I. program that Glamrock Fredbear and Spring Bonnie both have. Its a program that tells the animatronics to always be in the same room. The further away from each other they go, the more distressed they become :(

@just-a-human-lad

:DD Thank you! And thank you for the littol frog guy! 💖🐸💖

I imagined the whole group is sitting around a camp fire and they're all talking a bit about where they came from and what their AUs were like. Jevil talks about how he and Seam were under rule of this horrible King. And how Seam was the court magician and he was the court Jester..

River makes a comment; "Oh.. You must just despise anything Jester related then, yes..?"

Jevil nods "Oh yeah, cant stand the stuff."

Then Grillby says, "..Then why do you still wear your jester hat?"

There was immediate tension between Seam and Jevil. But Jevil thought of something quick. "...You really wanna know why I don't take off my hat?"

Grillby: "uh.. yes..?"

Jevil creates all this suspense around it and then he goes. "Its becuase I'm bald under there, and you all would probably go blind from the reflection if I took my hat off." Cue giggling from Goner kid and a couple snickers from the group. The tension dissolves and the subject is changed. No one really thinks to bring up the hat thing again after that.. they all somewhat just accepted that as the answer.

Thank you!! :DD I love drawing them, so I'm glad you love how they look!! :}}}

If that worlds Seam is anything like mine, he wouldn't have been able to follow through with it.. Imprisoning him is one thing, executing him is just not something he has the guts to do..

And if their Spade King is anything like mine? As punishment for not obeying his orders, he would have just killed them both. :(

Hypothetically though.. if he DID kill Jevil.. and then later on saw my groups Jevil? I feel like he'd freak out. Thinking he's some kind of vengeful spirit or something. "I killed you, I saw you die- you've been dead for years- there's no way that you're really here-" He'd push him away out of fear and maybe even run away..

He probably did.. :( 💔

[coralcatsea]

Can't all of that usuk things be seen as brotherly love or someone who is important in your life but not in a romantic view? Not hating, honest just thinking

Your ask is about this post, right?

So looking at my examples, you can interpret it that way with some if you want, but with others...not so much.

I hope you actually want to hear me out, because this might get a bit long. Apologies in advance. 😅

-I can't imagine how awkward it'd be to view them as sıblıngs considering some of the suggestive things they do in canon. Personally, I think it'd be pretty weird to grab/tug on a sıblıng's apron when there's nothing underneath and say it "matches them well".

-If someone talks about your sıblıng being good looking, I don't think most people would get flustered enough to start sweating and trying to play it cool. I feel like the sıblıng equivalent would involve something more like eye-rolling.

-For the cake one, sure, you could interpret it as them being goofy in-universe, but from a meta perspective, putting an item that is so heavily associated with you on top of the cake seems to me like putting the wedding figures at the top. It comes off as intentional fan service, which Hima often likes to include.

-For Valentine's Day, the scene with Alfred and Arthur is paired narratively right alongside the shippy GerIta stuff. Additionally, there is a note that says this:

"In Europe, it's traditional for lovers to give gifts to each other."

"In America, giving gifts is also mainly done between lovers."

It does indeed mention male to female, but only to give cultural trivia about the difference between Europe and America. The important part is the emphasis on lovers, and we all know Hetalia doesn't shy away from same-sex shippy moments – as evidenced by Germany proposing to Italy in the very same strip. Speaking of proposals, one dynamic that closely parallels Arthur/Alfred is that of Antonio/Lovino, and Antonio tried proposing to Lovino in the manga.

I digress.

-Sıblıngs typically don't suggest ideas like dressing in sexy outfits and swaying their hips provocatively. Which reminds me, I forgot to include a similar scene in my post where Alfred intentionally has Arthur wear a Robin costume that shows off his legs. Yes, intentionally.

"Also, didn't you notice your costume is from the movie and mine is from the comic?"

Of course Alfred would notice. There's no way a big Batman fan like him would've chosen Arthur's costume carelessly, but instead of answering why Arthur has the skimpy version of Robin's costume when it doesn't even match his, Alfred instantly deflects. He then proceeds to tell Arthur to stop crouching and show – ...something. Based on what Arthur is covering, the logical assumption is that Alfred is telling Arthur to show off his legs.

-"Are you fighting like an old married couple again?" Self-explanatory. If they were sıblıngs he could just say, "Are you having a brοthεrly quarrel again?"

-Cardverse is a canon AU by Hima, and Alfred and Arthur are the King and Queen. Magical Strike is also a canon AU, in which Alfred has a fαthεr who is the company president. No other fαmiliαl relations are given. Arthur is a salaryman who simply works for the company.

-There's the scene where Arthur is dying that plays on the "near-death love confession" trope.

-Other characters comment on their relationship...

Again, if it was brοthεrly they could just call it a brοthεrly quarrel. It comes off to me more as teasing friends who could potentially have romantic feelings for each other.

-Tony sees it, too, teasingly commenting "Love me bubu. Kiss me bubu," in reaction to Arthur and Alfred's conversation. He doesn't normally say things like that, either.

-Terms like "big brοthεr" in Hetalia shouldn't automatically be taken literally. They are used in a more Japanese sense (e.g. calling a somewhat older person who isn't related to you "big brοthεr" out of respect). France calls himself "big brοthεr" to literally everyone and even Norway refers to Denmark as "brοthεr".

-Regardless of how you interpret their usage of "big brοthεr", Arthur decides against being called that right away, Alfred himself rejects the idea of it during the Revolution, and Arthur later claims their relationship is "not like that" and fumbles for a way to describe it, mainly considering himself as more of a former mentor or boss.

So I believe that after the Revolution, it's most accurate to consider them as coworkers or friends (who may or may not be attracted to each other).

_____

At the end of the day, you can interpret it however you want. But with how often USUK fans are given a hard time for liking this ship, I wanted to point out that we're not pulling this stuff out of nowhere. It's hinted at and given shippy fan service moments just like several other ships.

I only really disagree with people constantly insisting they MUST be fαmily. Romance vs fαmiliαl are NOT the only two options. I would honestly like to see more non-shippers just let them be friends. Just because I ship it doesn't mean others have to, and just because some perceive it in a fαmiliαl way doesn't mean everyone else must view it like that, either.

And to those who do decide to hop aboard our ship, welcome! We have lots of variety to offer and are always glad for more people to have fun chatting about ideas with.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Home Sweet Home AU: Radio Silence

Thatcher becomes obsessed with a case he was assigned, one relating to the disappearances of two local teens. He has no other choice but to dig deeper.

TWs: Body horror, character death implied, blood/gore/injury

Notes: around 14'500 words long! The third volume for Home Sweet Home is here!!! The horrors!!! Anyway hope you enjoy :)

September 21st, 1992. 12:25 PM

“Hello. No one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone.”

BEEP.

“Hello, uh…this is Arthur Heathcliff, and I’m calling to…report a missing person.” A man’s voice spoke through the speaker; a somewhat gravely yet not too deep voice. “My son, uh, Mark. He hasn’t shown up in a week, and…I would like an investigation to be done to…try and…find him. Please answer as soon as possible…me and my wife are just...worried. We just want him to come home. Thank you.”

BEEP.

Thatcher knocked on the front door of the two story home, waiting a second before he spoke loudly, “Mandela County Police Department.” Thatcher was a thin, and tall man, wearing a dark blue police uniform over his body. He had a scruffy, unkempt beard and tired eyes, the dark circles around them contrasting with his pale beige skin. He looked at the door in front of him before he placed his hands on his hips, waiting for an answer at the door as he looked around the yard. The house he looked up at was a pale grey color, with two windows on the top story and a garage to his left. He sighed, brushing away his bleached blond hair before he heard the sound of the door opening in front of him. He let out a forced, soft smile before speaking. “You must be Leah Heathcliff?”

“That’s correct.” In front of Thatcher was a shorter woman with curly brown hair draped over her shoulders. She wore a beige and white striped sweater over a white shirt, along with a long, black skirt. Her green eyes looked up at Thatcher, her brows furrowed and her expression giving away her concern. She rubbed her necklace, which had a blue sapphire hanging from a silver chain. The silence continued before she swallowed hard. “You’re here…to search, aren’t you?”

“We’re just trying to help find your son, ma’am.” Thatcher stated. “A friend of mine is on her way; she’ll help find anything that can clue us in on where he went. Once we’re done we’ll get out of your hair. May I come in?”

“…I’ll go get my husband.” Leah stated. “You can wait in the living room.”

Leah led Thatcher into the home, closing the door behind them before walking into the living room. “Arthur?” She called. “…The police are here.”

Thatcher walked around, sighing deeply as he looked down, thinking to himself before he heard another person enter the room. “About time.” Thatcher heard Arthur speak quietly to Leah. “They were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

Thatcher looked up to see Arthur himself, seeing that he was wearing a black dress shirt with a gold cross necklace resting on his chest. His short, dark brown hair swept to the side, and his brows seemed lower, making his resting expression seem more upset than he actually was, though Thatcher couldn’t tell if it was natural considering the circumstances. He held out his hand towards Thatcher for him to shake. “Arthur. I’m the one who called.”

“Lieutenant Thatcher Davis.” Thatcher shook Arthurs hand before quickly letting go. “Okay, I’m…gonna have to ask some questions about Mark, if you don’t mind.”

Arthur sighed before gesturing towards the couch. “Go ahead.” Thatcher sat down on the couch, watching as Arthur sat on an arm chair to the side of it and Leah sitting next to Thatcher.

“Has Mark ever…snuck out of the house at any point?” Thatcher asked.

“Maybe once or twice…” Arthur recalled. “But he always came back a day or so later. Often went to his friend’s house.”

“And who was his friend?”

“Cesar.” Leah answered as she fidgeted with her hands. “Cesar Torres.”

“He…also went missing recently.” Arthur stated.

Thatcher let out a soft sigh as he scratched his head. “Alright, any…other friends he could have gone to?”

“No.” Leah stated. “…Cesar was…his only friend.”

“I see.” Thatcher stated.

“He’s been…acting strange for over a month.” Arthur stated. “I think the kid got into drugs or something—”

“Arthur!” Leah stated with a tone of surprise, sadness, and horror. “Mark wasn’t an addict, and you know it.”

“Leah…we don’t know; I’m just saying it’s possible.” Arthur responded.

“Don’t listen to him, please,” Leah’s voice almost sounded like she was begging as she turned towards Thatcher. “He was a good young man…he wouldn’t get into that.”

“We won’t blame his behavior on anything unless we get proof for it.” Thatcher assured. “Have you been in contact with Cesar’s parents?”

“I’ve…tried calling Maria, his mother, but…no answer.” Leah stated.

“Mhm.” Thatcher let out a deep sigh as he tried to think. “We’ll have to try and get in contact with the Torres family in that case,” He whispered. “When was the last time you saw your son?”

“At home. He fell asleep on the couch, and…I didn’t want to wake him up.” Leah stated. “He’s…been unable to sleep for so long so…I figured…he needed it.” Leah hunched over, sniffling slightly. “I-I should’ve asked him what was wrong.” She squeaked as her eyes began to water. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I just…listened.”

“Leah, we couldn’t have predicted this.” Arthur attempted to assure her as he sat up in his chair. “We don’t know what was going through his head…”

“But we could have.” Leah responded. “But we never asked.”

Thatcher looked at the ground, bouncing its leg softly as it attempted to gather its thoughts, all before it heard a knock at the door behind it. Arthur glanced at the door then back at his wife, brows furrowed further before he stood up to greet the person at the door.

“Y-You’ll…find him…won’t you?”

Thatcher looked back towards Leah, seeing the look of desperation in her watering eyes, the stare making a pit form in its gut. It wished it could guarantee that Mark would return safe and sound, though the thought of lying to a woman who’s gone through enough pain to last a life time wasn’t something it wanted to do. “We’ll…try our best, Mrs. Heathcliff.” It stated softly. “Trust me.”

“Thatcher, I brought everything we need.”

Thatcher turned around after hearing a familiar voice, standing up from his seat. “Alright…then I guess we’ll start the search, Weaver.” Thatcher sighed as he looked at Ruth from across the room.

Ruth was a muscular, tall woman wearing the same uniform her coworker wore, without the black tie around her neck and with her sleeves rolled up. She had almond colored skin, and her dark brown, curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail aside from the bangs covering the right side of her forehead. She had facial hair on her chin, and her arms also had hair on their forearms. She looked at Thatcher, her round eyes still showing energy despite the matter at hand, even as she approached Thatcher holding a few plastic, sealable bags labeled “EVIDENCE” along with plastic gloves. She also had a camera in her hands, which she handed to Thatcher as soon as he was in front of her.

“How much are you going to take?” Arthur questioned as he stared at Thatcher.

“Only what can potentially link to the case.” Thatcher stated. “We won’t take anything we don’t need to. Was there a particular room Mark stayed in most of the time?”

“…His bedroom; upstairs, last door in the hallway.” Leah stated softly.

Leah stood beside Arthur before he hugged her, staring at Thatcher as it turned back towards Ruth. “Could you stay with them as I search the room?” Thatcher asked Ruth quietly.

“Of course.” She responded. “I’ll…try and help them through this the best I can.”

“Thank you.”

Thatcher turned towards the stairway, walking up them as Ruth approached the Heathcliffs, standing up straight as she tried her best to conceal her uncertainty. “Could you two take a seat?” She asked.

“We don’t have much else to say.” Arthur stated.

“I’m not going to ask about the case,” Ruth responded. “We can get to that later on.”

Ruth gestured towards the seats before they all sat down on the couch, Ruth sitting to the side with Leah in between her and Arthur. Leah glanced down at Ruth’s leg noticing something; it was a prosthetic. Below her right knee was a blade prosthetic, with her dress pants leg rolled up above it. Ruth caught her gaze, looking down at her leg before a soft smile appeared on her face. “Oh…Don’t worry about it,” Ruth let out a soft, lighthearted chuckle. “Just…accidents happen, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Leah said quietly. “…I guess they do.”

Ruth’s smile faded when she saw that Leah’s worried expression didn’t disappear, all while Arthur wrapped his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. Ruth looked at them with a somber look in her eyes as she considered her next words, all while Thatcher made it to the upstairs hallway. He looked down the corridor, walking down it, his shoes clacking against the floorboards until he stopped outside of Mark’s room, taking in a breath before opening the door.

“Can…you tell me about yourselves?” Ruth asked. “What do you do for work?”

“I work at the library downtown…” Leah answered. “…Arthur’s a priest.”

“Really? Where, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“St. Gabriel’s Church.” Arthur stated.

“I see.” Ruth said, trying not to remember what she heard on the broadcasts regarding religious practices. “I’ve worked at the Police department for…years now. Me and Thatcher recently got promoted, actually.”

“Oh…congrats!” A soft smile formed on Leah’s face. “I’m…happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Ruth returned the smile. “Now…how is your job at the library?”

The first thing Thatcher noticed when he looked into the room was the state of disarray it was in. Snack wrappers and dirty clothes littered the floor, and the bed was unmade and messy. A few drawers in the dresser resting next to the wall were cracked open, jammed by lazily shoved in socks and clothes. Thatcher stepped over the garbage the best he could as his eyes grazed around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary aside from the mess.

He looked towards the dresser, seeing something resting on top of it that grabbed his attention; an analog television. He stared at it as he approached it, looking down to see its cord dangling off of the side of the dresser, unplugged. Two objects rested on top of the television, being a camcorder and tape recorder, both of which he gently picked up and placed in two separate evidence bags. He turned around, looking towards the bed until he noticed something wrong with the posters on the wall behind it. One of them seemed crooked and lazily put on, and Thatcher squinted when he saw black markings just barely peeking out from behind it.

“I just…wish I had more time to…you know…spend time with my own children.” Leah continued as Ruth listened carefully. “It’s hard to make money nowadays and…I guess I was too focused on that rather than focusing on the things that matter…”

“We’re…better than we were a few years ago,” Arthur said. “Luckily we were able to avoid selling our belongings just to put food on the table.”

Ruth looked at the ground with a worried look on her face. “I get it, trust me.” She said quietly. “With multiple businesses closing down, it seems like getting a job is becoming harder to do.”

“Definitely.” Arthur sighed. “All I can do is thank God himself for the place we’re in. A safe home, food on the table, two healthy kids; I mean…it’s a miracle.”

Ruth nodded as Leah began to speak. “They’re…so important to me.” She stated, seemingly trying her best not to cry. “I just wish I realized it sooner.”

Thatcher carefully removed the poster from the wall, lowering it before staring at what was behind it with furrowed brows and a look of confusion. It was scribbled drawings on the wall itself, seemingly drawn with a black marker of some kind. It seemed to depict what looked like nerves and veins; organs and eyes. In the middle of the drawing was what seemed like a clock with scribbled wings protruding from it. Thatcher backed away from the drawing, all before he grabbed his camera and pointed it towards the wall, taking a picture with a white flash and a click. He looked at the picture as it developed before he looked back at the drawing, confused as to what it meant or why it was there. As he stared at the strange, organic drawing, something from the hallway stared, watching him as he moved around the bedroom and continued his search, unnoticed by the lieutenant.

“You moved here…how long ago?” Ruth asked.

“Oh…around…16 years ago, if I remember correctly.” Arthur sighed. “Mark was just a year old at that point…moved down here from Yonder.”

“Mandela seemed like a more…quaint place to live at the time.” Leah stated. “Smaller, more…homey, I guess.”

“Yonder’s just…a buncha people who have a lot of money.” Arthur said. “Big houses…but not a lot of character.”

“I get it.” Ruth responded. “I used to live in Werksha myself…” She paused as she considered her next words. “I’ve been considering moving back because…I just…don’t know if this is the right place to raise my daughter.”

“You’re a mother?” Leah asked.

“Yeah; I have a little girl at home.” Ruth smiled. “She started kindergarten earlier this month actually.”

“What’s her name?”

“Amelia.”

Thatcher pushed open the slotted closet doors, looking into the messy storage space to see if anything out of the ordinary was there. He saw more of the same; trash and unfolded clothes on shelves. He sighed, preparing to close the doors before his eyes spotted something underneath a shirt. The corner of what appeared to be a yellow notebook was peeking out from underneath the article of clothing, and when Thatcher pulled it out, he saw “REASSURANCES” written on the cover. He looked at it before opening it, flipping through the pages quickly. It seemed to be a personal journal of some sort, with diary entries taking up most of the pages, with small doodles on each one. He closed it, deciding to look through it later as he grabbed another evidence bag.

Ruth continued to listen to the Heathcliffs until she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, turning to see Thatcher entering the room with a few bags in hand. “I found a notebook, Camcorder, and tape recorder so far,” Thatcher said as Ruth approached it. “I’m going back to search for anything else.”

“Alright.” Ruth stated as she was handed the bags.

Thatcher sighed as he looked over to the Heathcliff’s sitting on the couch in anticipation. “Are you aware of the analog TV in Mark’s bedroom?” Thatcher asked.

“Yes, we are.” Leah answered. “It’s unplugged though.”

“No, no, no you…you need to throw it out, unplugging isn’t enough.” Thatcher stated. “You know how many kids have been going missing lately?”

“…Yes.” Leah said softly.

“Yeah…I’d get rid of it as soon as possible, alright?” Thatcher said before turning back towards the stairway to continue his search. He walked up the stairs, passing by a cracked open door to his left, unknowing of the eye peeking at him from behind it. He walked into Mark’s room once again, sighing deeply before he began to rummage through the dresser’s drawers.

Ruth sighed, gently placing the bags on a table before she turned towards the Heathcliffs, who were still sitting on the couch. The look of pure worry and sadness in Leah’s eyes especially made her gut churn, though she wasn’t sure of how to lighten the mood without it feeling mean-spirited. She leaned against a chair, holding herself up with her arms as she thought to herself, hearing the sound of Thatcher’s footsteps overhead.

After finding nothing but more clothes, Thatcher shut the last dresser drawer, moving back towards the bed before lowering himself to his knees, leaning over to look underneath it; nothing, once again. Thatcher thought to himself as he stood up, walking over to the nightstand as he hoped that the little things he found in there would help find the missing teen. He pulled open the drawer, seeing loose papers covering the junk in there, also seeing a sketchbook resting on top. He pulled it out, looking at it for a moment before placing it on the bed next to him. He went back to rustling through the drawer before he paused. He saw something angular and made of metal, with it being a dark grey color. It seemed purposefully buried underneath everything else, and when Thatcher moved everything out of the way he froze, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the object in full.

“Ruth?” Ruth’s radio went off, Thatcher’s voice surprising her slightly before she held it up to her mouth.

“Did you find anything?”

“Come upstairs.”

“…Is something wrong?” Ruth glanced over towards the Heathcliffs, seeing them staring at her with a tinge of confusion and fear in their eyes.

“No, just…I need you to come up and…see something.”

Ruth lowered her radio, pinning it to her chest before quickly walking up the stairs. She stormed down the hallway, seeing Thatcher with his back facing her, seemingly holding something. “What’s going on, you alright?”

“…Ruth, did either of the parents mention owning a firearm?”

“…No?”

Thatcher turned around, revealing what he was holding; a semi-automatic pistol. Ruth stared at it with confusion and concern before looking up at Thatcher’s darkened expression. “Desert Eagle. Mark one.” He stated in a low, quiet voice. “50 caliber.”

“Oh…God, how did someone Mark’s age find a firearm of that power?” Ruth questioned softly.

“I don’t know.” Thatcher responded, carefully placing the firearm in a bag. “I suppose we’ll have to ask around…see if anyone in the family owns one.”

“Does it appear used?”

“Thankfully…no.” Thatcher stated. “Safety’s on…though…it was loaded.”

“Oh God.” Ruth felt a pit form in her gut, lightly holding a hand over her mouth as she thought.

“We’ll have to find out if it’s registered or not and who it was sold by.” Thatcher said. “Maybe then we’ll get an idea of how…Mark…got it.” Thatcher’s voice lowered before he suddenly went silent, looking towards the hallway with an intense, yet troubled gaze. Ruth turned to see what he was looking at before seeing someone standing in the doorway, staring at them.

A young girl, no older than six.

She had long, brown hair, and wore an oversized, faded shirt over her body, along with pajama pants printed with characters from a cartoon. She was holding a blue stuffed bunny in her arms, holding it close to her chest. She stared up at the officers standing in her brother’s room, her expression blank as she remained still, as if not moving meant that she was invisible to them.

Thatcher looked towards Ruth, seeing that she was staring at the child with a look of somberness in her eyes. “…Why don’t I go downstairs and…talk to the parents.” Thatcher stated quietly.

“…Alright.” Ruth responded very quietly as Thatcher quietly left the room, looking down to see the girl staring at him with a distrustful look as he passed by. Ruth carefully approached the child, crouching down before clearing her throat.

“Hey!” She said in a soft voice. “My name’s Ruth, I’m here to help you out. What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer right away, instead looking at the ground and hugging the toy in her arms tighter. Ruth looked at the toy, seeing its button eyes and red bowtie before letting out a smile. “What’s his name?” She pointed at the bunny.

The girl looked down at the toy before looking back up at Ruth’s face. “…Mr. Bon.” The girl stated quietly.

Ruth smiled. “That’s a wonderful name.”

“…Where’s Mark?” The girl asked quietly, with her voice seeming more like a squeak.

Ruth’s smile faded as she glanced away, thinking of an answer. “…That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Ruth responded. “We’re here to help, both me and my friend you just saw. It and I are looking for him.”

“…I want my mom.”

Ruth nodded, standing up and holding out a hand towards the girl. “She’s just downstairs; I can take you to her.” She said softly.

“…Okay.” The girl lightly held Ruth’s hand as they walked down the hallway, all while Thatcher paced back and forth downstairs.

“I-I have a pistol in my office, but it’s locked away.” Arthur stated, staring at Thatcher with a dark expression.

“Does anyone in your family own a Desert Eagle?” Thatcher asked.

“No, not that I know of.” Arthur responded. “I mean…his grandfather’s a hunter but…he didn’t own any guns aside from a hunting rifle or two.”

Leah looked over towards the stairway, seeing Ruth walking down into the living room, lightly holding the girl’s hand as they entered the room.

“Sarah!” Leah said, holding out her arms as Sarah ran to her, embracing her the second she was close to her. Thatcher looked at Leah and Sarah before looking back at Arthur.

“…Throw out that TV.”

“What?”

“The TV in Mark’s room is a hazard,” Thatcher stated with a stern tone in his voice. “Especially with a small child in this house.”

“…I don’t think it’s a problem—”

“Yes it is.” Thatcher responded. “There’s a very serious threat going around; children around your daughter’s age are at risk, almost more so than adults.”

“Look, I get it…fear tactics.” Arthur stated.

“…What?”

“You want us to be scared cause of ‘alternates’.” Arthur’s voice seemed accusatory, as if he had something against Thatcher specifically. “My kid will be just fine, and once Mark comes back, I’m sure things will go back to normal around here.”

“…You don’t believe in alternates?” Thatcher questioned out of disbelief.

“Not the way you want me too.” Arthur stated. “I pray every night for protection, and it hasn’t failed yet, and if alternates are as dangerous as the government says they are, then don’t you think something would have happened by now?”

“Mark.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Mark is still missing.” Thatcher reminded, trying his hardest to keep his words professional. “I believe you can call that something happening, don’t you think?”

“His disappearance has nothing to do with alternates.” Arthur claimed. “He’s just…unwell. He needs help…not more paranoia to add to his already poor mental state.”

“Would telling you that the possession of analog technology is a crime change your mind?” Thatcher stated, barely cloaking his pure annoyance.

“…What, you’ll arrest me for having a TV?”

Thatcher’s brows furrowed, staring at Arthur’s face with an intense glare.

“God reigns, Davis.” Arthur said. “And even if alternates really did exist…they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Thatcher paused, maintaining eye contact with the priest. “…I wish I had your ignorance.”

Arthur’s glare turned into an almost appalled expression as Ruth approached them, tapping Thatcher on the shoulder. “It’s time to head out.” Ruth said quietly as Thatcher turned around.

“…Alright.” Thatcher sighed. He glared back at Arthur, him staring back with a tinge of revulsion in his gaze. Thatcher passed by Leah and Sarah, the latter of which looking up at him as he walked by. Ruth followed, though hesitated, stopping in the middle of the room, even as Thatcher made his way to the front door. She looked back, seeing Leah and Sarah’s eyes staring at her, all before she sighed and dug out a notepad from her pocket.

“Mrs. Heathcliff?”

“Yes?” Leah watched as Ruth quickly wrote down something.

“From one mother to another.” Ruth handed her a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “If you need anything or…just want to talk…call me, alright?”

Leah stared at the phone number for a second before looking back up at Ruth’s friendly face.

“…Th…thank you, officer.”

“You can skip the formalities,” Ruth smiled. “Just call me Ruth if you want to.”

“…Thank you, Ruth.”

Ruth stood up, taking one look at Arthur’s sour expression and shooting him a glare, all before turning back and leaving, shutting the front door behind her. Silence fell, Leah holding Sarah close as Sarah hugged both her mother and her toy, staring at the door with a blank expression. Maybe Mark just went on a walk into the woods again and got lost; she remembered he liked to do that during the night. She just hoped he’d find his way back soon.

September 22nd, 3:47 PM

Thatcher sat at his desk, staring at the closed orange folder in front of him, his tired eyes grazing over it as he tried to shake off his ever present exhaustion. He glanced over to his left, seeing a couple VHS tapes stacked neatly next to a small television, which was resting on a small table to the side of the desk. There was also a notebook, along with the tape recorder he had recovered the previous day resting on his desk. He thought of how lucky he was that they were in good condition, considering the time crunch and the fact that he’d rather not bother Dave again to fix them in such a short time frame. He rubbed his eyes, planting his elbows on the desk as he sighed, opening the orange folder to see what he was dealing with.

“MARK HEATHCLIFF

AGE: 17

SEX: MALE

ETHNICITY: CAUCASIAN

EYES: GREEN

HAIR: BROWN”

Thatcher read over Mark’s file, eyes glancing over the paragraphs of information known about him. Words typed out on the page about his diagnoses, his academic history, and even previous incidents and injuries he might’ve had. It was all very detailed, yet as Thatcher grazed over the page, he saw nothing much of use that related to the case aside from what he had already heard the previous day. He sighed, shutting the file before sliding it to the side, instead choosing to focus on the tape recorder, staring at it before gently grasping one of the cassettes, one labeled “Insomnia” and placing it into the player, it clicking shut before he pressed play.

It was silence for a few moments, with only the sound of faint, shaky breathing being heard underneath the static. Thatcher waited for something to happen, wondering if it was a blank cassette before he finally heard a voice; Mark’s voice.

“…Ninety years without slumbering,” Mark tiredly sung, his voice raspy as if he hadn’t used it in a while. “Tick, tock, tick, tock. His…l…life seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock. Then the clock…stopped…never to go again, when the old…man…died.”

Silence fell once again for a little while.

“Fuck…Just…let me fucking sleep.” Mark’s voice sounded muffled, as if he was holding his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know how long I can count sheep before I go insane.”

Thatcher sat back in his seat as he once again listened to the gap of silence, staring intently at the tape recorder before Mark spoke once again.

“…I don’t know what to do.” Mark stated. “…I feel…uncomfortable in my own skin. I don’t…I don…feel…safe.”

Silence once again; longer than the last gap.

“I haven’t slept in a couple days now.” Mark mumbled. “Every time I try, I…have those…fucking nightmares. I don’t…kn…know if I…really do want to sleep…all because of them.”

Another pause.

“…Then th…st…stopped…never to go again when…the old…man…God fucking help me.”

The cassette stopped, leaving Thatcher with a sense of confusion before he ejected it and placed it on the desk, all before grasping the next one, a cassette labeled nothing at all, and placing it inside of the recorder, hesitating before pressing play.

Silence, though he could hear something that sounded somewhat far away; muffled, harsh breathing. It sounded as if someone was hitting something repeatedly, or someone hitting their own head.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up,” Was heard over and over, Mark’s voice sounding distressed, like he was sobbing. Thatcher listened intently as Mark continued. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT THE FUCK UP, JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!” Mark took in a shaky breath, sobbing more before shouting, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEA—”

The tape stopped abruptly, with Thatcher staring at it with furrowed brows and his hands folded in front of him, his fingers clasping his own hands before he ejected the cassette. Thatcher sat still for a moment as it processed what it heard, all before its eyes fixated on the next piece of evidence; the notebook. A part of it dreaded reading through its pages for a reason it didn’t know as it picked it up, looking at its cover first and reading what was written on it.

“Reassurances

God bless all!”

Thatcher flipped open the notebook, and saw just that; reassurances. It appeared to be small prayers, with a new one on each page. However, around halfway through the notebook, he paused, seeing a drawing on one of the pages, with it being completely blank aside from it. It was a messily drawn picture of two eyes in the middle of the lined page, their gaze looking oddly crazed. Thatcher flipped the page, and found that the next entry wasn’t a prayer or reassurance of any kind, rather being a journal entry.

“9/02/1992

He’s been ignoring me again.

He’s been doing this for over a month now, acting like whatever I’m saying doesn’t matter. I’m tired of him turning a blind eye to what I’m seeing. He has to hear the breathing too, right? Why would he just brush be aside like this? I am his friend right? Sooner or later, he’s going to have to open his eyes to this. Else it’ll bite him later.”

Thatcher looked towards the bottom of the page, seeing a drawing of what appeared to be a House, with more writing below it, reading: “I keep going back and I don’t even know why. It calls me by name, Cesar.”

Thatcher stared at the picture of the House, his eyes fixated on it before he shook his head and flipped the page, seeing yet another journal entry, this time dated “9/05/1992”.

“I heard my parents talking downstairs today. Dad is suggesting that I’m not ‘faithful enough’. Says how I need to pray more and maybe I’ll feel better. My mom said I just need more time with my therapist, as if he’s helping me any. They think I’m crazy, don’t they. I was already put on multiple different anti-anxiety and depression meds, and they don’t work. They don’t know what I’m actually going through. And I don’t know if I want to tell them.

If this is how they act when they’re clueless, I dread to know what they’d say if they knew.”

The drawing on the page was of a pill bottle. The label was mostly gibberish, with the only recognizable word being “lies” written in bold letters.

Thatcher felt the pit in his gut only growing heavier with every page, flipping it before reaching a journal entry without a drawing. It appeared to be from a few days after the last, seemingly sloppily written, like Mark had just woken up when he wrote it:

“09/8/1992

I had a dream tonight.

I was at the House, yelling at Cesar for a reason I can’t remember. He was so angry at me. I felt a deep hatred towards him, more than I’ve ever felt towards anything. I don’t even remember what was being said, or what had caused us both to be so mad. I remember looking past him and seeing It looking at me.

I feel sick recalling the sound and feeling of his neck cracking under my hands. The rest is fuzzy, and all I remember was that I threw him to the ground in less than a second. His horror filled eyes still haunt me. I remember looking down at his body propped up against the clock, and then I woke up.

I don’t know what this means. I’m not a killer. I wouldn’t do that. Would I?”

A short sentence below it, written in neater handwriting read: “Thinking about it now. I don’t recall who the body actually belonged to.”

Thatcher flipped the page, looking down at the noticeably worse handwriting in the next entry before he read it.

“09/10/1992

I’ve lost another one.

I’ve never seen him that furious. He acted as if I was the worst person he ever met. The nightmares haven’t ended, the halls still calling my name. I can taste iron, though I don’t think its my own blood. My right eye feels like it had been pulled out of socket and shoved back in. Everything feels so alien now, even though nothing has changed. I hate these rooms, the scent of blood still stinging my nose. I feel homesick laying in my own bed.”

The drawings on the bottom of the page were scribbled and hastily done, depicting spirals and what appeared to be some kind of grandfather clock. Thatcher stared at the clock before focusing on the last drawing, one depicting a young man sitting up in bed, staring at something with wide eyes. A simple statement was written below it, reading: “He looked at me like I was not me.”

Thatcher paused, processing the previous entry before he reached for the next page, his hands feeling strangely cold as he flipped the page, being greeted to what was only an empty page. He turned the page, seeing yet another empty page, then another, and another. He sped through the pages, all before reaching one last entry. Thatcher flipped the page only to see black scribbled letters covering the entire page. Dried splotches of red stained the paper, seeping into the pages after it. The writing only said one thing, repeated over and over like a skipping record:

“THE BELLS TOLL FOR ME.”

The chaos of the repeated text continued with every single page until he reached the final one, being nearly completely blank aside from a drawing of a clock, and one last message: “I’m running out of time.” Thatcher shook his head, shutting the notebook shut before thinking hard. He sighed, holding his hands over his mouth with his elbows on the desk. He couldn’t help but begin to connect the dots; the date of the entry was the same date as Cesar Torres’s disappearance. Mark was clearly falling off the deep end at that point, and appeared to have been increasingly angry with Cesar, so what if…he…

 “…Jesus.” He muttered under his breath. “…N…No, that…it can’t be right, that doesn’t make any sense—”

Before Thatcher could make anything of what he just read, a knock rang on his office door, Thatcher yelling “come in” before someone walked into the room. It was Ruth, having a look of concern plastered on her face.

“What is it?” Thatcher asked as he rubbed his eyes again.

“Leah Heathcliff’s here for her questioning.” Ruth answered.

“…Ah.” Thatcher coughed, standing up, taking a glance at the VHS tapes before deciding he’d look at them later. He grabbed the notebook and the orange folder, all before approaching Ruth, looking at her face, his brow twitching slightly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Ruth said. “Though I suppose you should get going.”

“Okay…alright.” Thatcher brushed past Ruth, leaving her in the doorway as she sighed, looking at the ground before turning towards Thatcher’s desk. It was a complete mess, with documents strewn across it and other pieces of evidence placed on it. She couldn’t help but notice that the chair Thatcher had been using was still the same worn, on the verge of breaking office chair he refused to replace. Ruth sighed, closing the door to the office as she silently reminded herself to talk to Thatcher about keeping a clean workspace.

September 24th, 1992. 7:24 AM

“It was dark out. I couldn’t really see that well in front of me as I stumbled through the woods. I could barely stand up straight, as if my legs were trying to work against me. I was breathing hard, my breath clouding the air in front of me as I continued to walk. I didn’t know my destination, or at least I don’t remember it, but I knew I needed to get there.

Then I saw a house. One that looked familiar. I stopped for a second, staring at a window on one of the outer walls before I began to approach it. I stood in front of the window, placing my hands on the window frame, but when I looked down at them, I saw they weren’t mine. They were a pale grey, with two elongated fingers with broken, long fingernails at the end of them like claws. I looked inside, through the glass before I saw something. It was a bedroom, and on the bed was a sleeping man.

It was me. Sleeping on the bed without a clue. I opened the window, slowly crawling through until I was looming over myself, staring down at my own unconscious body. I was smiling, but it almost hurt to do so. I continued to stare at myself barely moving, still asleep even as I grew closer, saliva dripping from my mouth onto the sheets.

Then I woke up.

The window was locked when I checked it. Though I saw mist on the outside of it, as if someone was breathing on it. Something tells me I was very lucky last night. I’m not telling Ruth about this one. She already worries about me enough. I know now that I’m going to be checking every window before I sleep. I don’t want to know what would’ve happened if I forgot.”

Thatcher closed the notebook before sighing, leaning over towards the nightstand beside his bed before throwing it into one of the drawers. He sighed, grasping the bed sheets under him as he stared at the beige carpet below him. He looked forward from where he sat, seeing the window leading outside, the sun beginning to rise, allowing him to see the small patch of trees outside of his house. It felt a pit forming in its gut as it looked, all before shaking its head and standing up, deciding it needed to get dressed and start its day.

Thatcher stood by his kitchen counter, leaning against it with a cup of coffee in one hand, with his other crossed over his chest. He wore a lazily put on, faded graphic T-shirt, which was a couple sizes too big for him. With his less than professional appearance came worn out jeans, a pair of sneakers, and an overall haggard expression on his face, only complimented by his equally unkempt hair. He stared blankly into his living room, seeing that it too was a mess, with the coffee table being covered in documents and papers, and having no room to actually use it to put coffee cups on. He sighed, placing his cup on the counter before looking towards a landline phone on the wall, walking towards it, dialing a few numbers, and holding the phone up to his head as he waited for a response.

A few moments passed as Thatcher waited, leaning against the wall as he sighed, pushing his free hand into his jean pocket before he finally heard a voice on the line.

“This is Dave from MandelaTECH, how may I help you?”

“Dave, hey, it’s…it’s me.” Thatcher sighed, his voice especially gravely from just waking up.

“Thatcher! How’s it going? We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“It’s…yeah, it’s alright, I guess.” Thatcher stated. “How are you? You feeling better?”

“Ah, I’m…managing.” Dave said with a lighthearted chuckle. “Definitely better than I was. No longer…using that rickety old wooden cane that they gave me. Got a new one; one that’s…less hard on me.”

“That’s…good.” Thatcher said. “Good to hear it.”

“…You alright?” Dave asked. “You sound like you’ve…been through it.”

“I’m fine, alright? Just…” Thatcher paused for a second. “You…hear anything last night?”

“…No?”

“Any…weird…feelings, or did you see anything odd or out of place?”

“No. Can I ask why you’re asking me this?”

“Just wondering.” Thatcher lied. “Just…things have been weird, alright? Was wanting to check in and make sure you’re doing alright anyway.”

“I appreciate that, but…you do know you have to take care of yourself too, right?”

Thatcher paused, looking at the ground for a few seconds. “…You kept your windows and doors locked, right?”

“Yes.” Dave answered. “Thatcher…you…sure you’re alright?”

No.

“Yeah.” Thatcher reassured. “Just a weird…dream I guess. Whatever, I’ll probably talk to you later. I have a couple tapes I need restored for the police department anyway.”

“Alrighty, just…remember to actually take a break.” Dave stated. “It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Supposed to be.”

“Well, call me if you need anything, I’ll be happy to help out.”

“Thanks. See you later. Bye.” Thatcher hung up the phone, placing it back on its hook before sighing deeply, looking up and shutting his eyes for a second. He looked up at the ceiling, hearing nothing more than the sound of cars outside, the faint ticking of the circular clock on the wall, and his own thoughts running through his head. He shook his head, walking towards the couch and grabbing a jacket that was draped across it before pulling it over his arms and walking towards the front door, deciding to go walk around town. Maybe it would get his mind off of things.

Thatcher walked down the sidewalk as the sun rose in the sky, smoke billowing out of the cigarette in his hand. He glanced towards the road, seeing some cars pass by, though not very many people were out on the streets at that point. As he walked further into town however, there were more people seen, though the groups of people he remembered seeing gathering around certain hang out spots a few years back were now more scarce, with people no longer staying in one spot for a while. Did Thatcher blame them? No. It understood why people spoke in hushed tones and stuck together, only doing what they needed to get done before going back into the safety of their home. If Thatcher could, he’d do the same. There’s a comfort in locked doors and covered windows when the outside is full of things that stalk the meek.

Downtown had a haze of uncertainty to it; emptier than usual. The recent broadcast was doing its job, Thatcher supposed, judging by the dumpsters full of old, broken TVs, closed businesses, and people refusing to make eye contact with each other. It felt odd, though Thatcher couldn’t remember the last time Mandela felt more comfortable than not. He wasn’t even sure if it ever had that feeling of hominess. Mandela’s color had been draining for a long time, and he wasn’t sure if he ever noticed it. Seeing how the town was slowly becoming less welcome to its residents made a pit form in his gut. So much for “getting his mind off things.”

Thatcher passed by a few local businesses and stores, some urban homes, and more empty parking lots as he walked, feeling his joints getting sore as he went further. His cigarette was close to snuffed out, Thatcher pausing before flicking it to the ground, stomping it with his foot and pressing it into the concrete. He sighed, looking around before his eyes spotted something on the other side of the road; the park. A large patch of grass with a few trees, gazebos, and a small playground for children to play. To his surprise, there were people there, being parents keeping a close eye on their kids as they went down the slides and sat on the swings. However, he stopped when he spotted someone sitting at one of the benches, looking over her own kid. Ruth.

Thatcher glanced down the road despite knowing no one was coming before jogging across the road, slowing down when he reached the other side before stepping onto the grass, walking through the metal archway leading into the park. It approached the playground, seeing Ruth was fiddling with her prosthetic, presumably because something was loose or out of place in it. Thatcher sighed, silently walking towards the bench and sitting next to her. She glanced up, double-taking before looking at Thatcher, letting out a breath.

“Hey, I…didn’t expect you to be here.” She said as she sat up.

“I didn’t either.” Thatcher stated. “Just figured I’d say hi.”

“Well…hi.” Ruth smiled, crossing her leg and looking at her prosthetic. “…It got loose when I was running around with Amelia. Almost fell off.”

“Hmm.” Thatcher looked around, his tired eyes observing the children playing and the parents joining in with them. It was sweet, though he still couldn’t shake the pressure he felt in his chest.

“…Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Thatcher answered as if it was second nature to him. “Just…things have been on my mind lately, that’s all.”

“Do you want…to talk about it?” Ruth asked.

“It’s nothing, just…thinking about what Leah said.”

“Thatcher…”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, why would a normal kid like Mark just…break all of a sudden?” Thatcher continued.

“Mommy!”

Ruth looked up to see one of the children on the playground approaching her, walking towards her before grasping the sleeve of Ruth’s jacket; Amelia. “What is it honey?” Ruth asked. Amelia simply pointed towards a bag that was resting next to Ruth, and despite nothing being said, Ruth understood, grabbing something from it. It was a small bag of what appeared to be some kind of snack, which Ruth gave to Amelia before she began to run back to the rest of the kids.

“Be careful, don’t go too far.” Ruth warned before softly sighing.

“Do you think what Arthur said has something to do with it?” Thatcher asked as Ruth looked back towards him. “Maybe he said something that caused Mark to run off—”

“Thatcher.” Ruth interrupted. “I’m sorry, but…you’re not really using your day off wisely.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re stressing yourself out about the case all the time.” Ruth said as she strapped her prosthetic on properly. “I understand, it’s something…I really wish didn’t happen, but you have to understand that worrying about it all day everyday isn’t going to help.”

“Ruth, I just need a lead.” Thatcher said. “What if we find something tomorrow at the Torres house? We could possibly solve what happened to Mark…and Cesar.”

“We’ll have to wait and see—” Ruth flinched when she started to hear crying, turning to see Amelia on the ground with a scraped knee. She quickly stood up, leaving Thatcher behind as she went to go tend to her. Thatcher watched with mild concern as Ruth looked at the minor scratches as he sat in silence, sighing as he tried to think. He had to stress about a case he was working on, otherwise nothing would get done. He had to be close to figuring out something, right? He was snapped out of his thoughts when Ruth approached him again, this time holding her daughters hand. “We’re going home, Thatcher. If you want to talk later, I’ll be there, just call.”

“…I see.” Thatcher watched as they walked away, once again leaving him alone as he wondered. Maybe Ruth had a point; maybe he should go home and try and relax for once.

11 PM

Thatcher had been staring at the files on his desk for the past hour without anything new coming to mind. A few cigarette butts were already in the ashtray as he extinguished the one in his hand in it, all while he stared at the papers with a blank look in his eyes. He scribbled something onto a blank piece of paper, the graphite of the pencil scratching against it until an image came together. Thatcher paused, looking at the drawing, one that depicted the face of a humanoid…thing, one with an elongated “snout” and a far too wide smile. He sighed, placing his pencil on the desk before grabbing the paper and standing up, turning towards the wall and pinning it to a corkboard, allowing it to join the countless photos, journal entries, notes, and drawings that already littered it, making the corkboard itself barely visible from under it.

Thatcher stared at the board, crossing his arms as his dull eyes grazed over everything on it, his brain working overtime to compute it all. Mark Heathcliff, Cesar Torres, Dave Lee, Ruth Weaver; all people who had experienced oddities in the past few months alone, with even Thatcher itself not being exempt. The pale, inhuman face of the alternate he drew had been one he saw not too long ago, and one that he couldn’t shake off. It looked so vaguely familiar, though morphed and deformed to the point that it was barely on the precipice of recognition. Thatcher hated that some parts of its face were features he shared, albeit heavily distorted. Animalistic, and not even trying to act human. Was it even an alternate at all?

Thatcher blinked, rubbing his eyes when the wave of exhaustion he had been pushing back finally hit him. He looked back towards his messy desk and the corkboard, all before turning back and shutting the light off, closing the door shut behind him as he headed towards his bedroom. He stepped into the room, shutting and locking his bedroom door as he stared at the window on the opposite wall. He stared at it, feeling a strange discomfort before he checked it was locked and shut the curtains. He got into bed, sighing deeply as he lazily pulled the covers over him, staring into the dark as he laid on his side, all before closing his eyes and attempting to get some sleep.

??:?? AM

Thatcher was awoken by the sound of a distant window breaking. His eyes flicked open, staring forward to see that the window in his room was still concealed by the curtain, and still intact judging by the lack of wind coming from it. Thatcher wanted to grab his gun and investigate the noise, though despite how much he tried, his arms remained still. He couldn’t even speak or move anything aside from his eyes, which darted around the small part of the room he could see from his limited view. His breathing quickened slightly, realizing he was paralyzed.

Thatcher could hear something bumping around in the hallway outside of his bedroom, pushing aside furniture and stepping towards the door. Thatcher couldn’t do anything, hearing the footsteps grow silent as he tried not to hyperventilate. He attempted to move, only being able to slightly shift in place, still unable to move anything a meaningful amount. He stared forward, blinking when he heard knocks ring out from his bedroom door behind him. He heard the knocks pause, then come back, even harder that time, all before they ceased. Thatcher heard the door creak, opening despite him locking the door before he slept. He still couldn’t move aside from shaking slightly, hearing something behind him, creeping towards his bed. He couldn’t see it, or hear anything coming from it until he felt warm air hit the nape of his neck. His chest heaved, feeling a deathly cold hand be placed on his shoulder before he could finally move.

Thatcher shot up out of bed, swinging around to see what it was, only to find nothing at all. The door was shut, and nothing else was in the room with him. His breath was heavy as he glanced towards his pillow, reaching under it to grab a pistol before he walked towards his door, throwing it open before pointing the gun into the hallway. He flicked on the light, seeing that it was completely intact, with nothing out of place. He paused, hesitating before lowering his gun, looking at the ground and placing one of his clammy hands on his head. Something about his house felt claustrophobic all of a sudden; was it always that cold?

2:27 AM

Ruth was awoken by the sound of a knock at the front door. She slowly sat up, looking around her room before she heard the knocks ring out yet again, sighing as she turned on her bedside lamp and reached towards her prosthetic. Thatcher knocked on the door for a third time, his body covered by a quickly thrown on, somewhat oversized grey trench coat. He remained silent, preparing to knock again until the door swung open to reveal a tired, somewhat annoyed Ruth Weaver, who was still in her pajamas, being a black tank top and sweatpants.

“Ruth.” Thatcher said quietly.

“…It’s two in the morning.” Ruth stated, blinking sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…I wanted to talk.”

“About what? What is so important that it can’t wait until morning?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” Thatcher said. “I won’t be long.”

Ruth paused, staring at him before shaking her head slightly. “Be quiet; Amelia’s in bed and she has school tomorrow.”

Following Ruth into the house, Thatcher closed the door behind him, walking into the dimly lit living room before sitting on the couch, with Ruth sitting in a chair across from him. Thatcher remained silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular before Ruth spoke up.

“Organizing files or something?” Ruth asked. “Or are you just staying up late worrying about the case again?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m…it’s fine.” Thatcher stated, despite not fully believing the statement. “I wasn’t wanting to talk…about just the case with you anyway.”

“Do tell.” Ruth glared at Thatcher, wishing she could go back to bed, but refusing to due to the feeling of worry for her friend.

“Everything happening lately…it feels…connected.” Thatcher said. “Ever since the report at the…Murray household, it seems like everything’s been…off.”

“Really?” Ruth asked. “How do you think it’s all connected?”

Thatcher stayed silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “That alternate. You know the one that attacked Dave a little while back?”

“Yeah, I heard about it, though…I don’t really see what you’re getting at.”

Thatcher paused before speaking again. “I think it’s the same one from the Murray house.”

“…How can you be sure?” Ruth asked.

“I can’t.” Thatcher responded. “But the way it…stared into me. The look in its eyes…it was the same.”

“I don’t know…maybe.” Ruth spoke with a tinge of uncertainty. “But didn’t you say it looked…different?”

“It did.” Thatcher stated. “But that’s what’s getting me; it’s wrong. More so than it was.”

“Thatcher, are you sure?” Ruth asked. “It could be a different one entirely. I mean…why would it do something like that to itself?”

“I don’t think it did.”

Thatcher and Ruth became silent, Thatcher hunched over with his hands clasped together and his elbows resting on his knees, all while one of his legs bounced up and down. He took in a deep breath before speaking again. “Ruth?”

“Yes?”

“I came here to apologize.” Thatcher looked up to see Ruth looking at him with a fraction of confusion. “That’s what this is really about.”

“For what?”

“For…everything.” Thatcher looked down again, his hair draping over his face. “For…what happened back at that fucking house.”

Ruth sat up from her relaxed position as her brows furrowed slightly.

“If I…if…if I kept an eye on you…if I kept you safe…” Thatcher’s voice shook slightly. “You’d still have both legs.”

Ruth felt her heart sink slightly at that statement, thinking hard as Thatcher continued.

“I didn’t…protect you, I didn’t look after you like a fucking friend should.” Thatcher said. “You got attacked cause I was a fucking idiot and didn’t pay attention—”

“Thatcher—”

“No, listen, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you; for the one fucking person in my life that is there for me—”

“Thatcher.” Ruth said, standing up and approaching the couch before sitting next to her friend. “If you truly weren’t there for me…I’d be dead.”

Thatcher looked up at her face, seeing that she still had a friendly look in her eyes.

“You couldn’t have predicted any of that; I mean…I barely saw it coming myself.” Ruth continued. “If you didn’t come running in to scare it off, or help me get to the hospital…I would’ve lost more than a leg.”

 “…I’m sorry.” Thatcher said under his breath, his throat tight. “I’m just…sorry I can’t…be the man this town needs me to be. E-Every time I go into that fucking station, I see more and more missing persons reports, more bodies found, more altercations, more shit that is only getting worse. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t fucking show it cause if I do?” Thatcher paused, trying to hold back its tears. “…I’ll be painted as nothing but a fucking coward…and that’s not what this town needs right now. It needs someone it can count on…and…I’m not that person.”

Ruth remained silent, thinking hard before she wrapped her arm around Thatcher, lightly side-hugging him. Thatcher appeared surprised at the gesture, though after a few moments, he hunched over, covered his face with his hands, and cried.

September 25th, 1992. 5:45 PM

Thatcher had a pit in his gut the entire day.

He wasn’t sure exactly what was causing it as he gathered what he needed to bring to the Torres Residence, though it was beginning to become nauseating. The lack of sleep could’ve also had something to do with it, or maybe even the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything that morning, though he couldn’t be sure. He looked up to see Ruth gearing up, putting her belt on and pinning her radio to her chest. Thatcher sighed, standing up straight before approaching her, lightly pressing a hand on her shoulder.

“Try and stay in sight this time, alright?” Thatcher asked quietly.

“I will. Besides, we have the radio. If necessary I’ll call you from it.”

“…Yeah…yeah, alright.” Thatcher exhaled. “You ready?”

“I guess so.”

“Then we should head out.” Thatcher stated. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is going to head over there so…suppose we’re going to be the ones to do it.”

“Figures.” Ruth said with a slight chuckle. “Last time we had to do this, the officers pussied out.”

“Let’s get going,” Thatcher grabbed a jacket. “It’s almost sundown, and I’d like to get this done before it’s late.”

It was a completely silent drive to the House, with neither Ruth nor Thatcher speaking a single word. Thatcher felt a sense of unease when he turned down Wisteria Avenue, and when he glanced over at Ruth to see her having a troubled look on her face, Thatcher figured he wasn’t the only one. It clasped the steering wheel, staring forward as he drove by the houses in the neighborhood, seeing that only a few of them had lights on, as if most of them were no longer lived in. Thatcher decided to try and ignore the eerie feeling it had, as when it parked on the side of the road in front of the Torres Home, it realized it was time to get to work.

Thatcher exited the police car, looking towards the House, noticing how dark it appeared to be inside of it. He glanced back at Ruth, checking to make sure she was standing close before he stepped onto the concrete driveway, approaching the front door before reaching towards it and knocking against the dark wood.

“Police Department, open up.” Thatcher called, hoping for an answer but not receiving anything more than silence. He slammed his fist against the door again, harder and louder before calling again; “Police, open the door!”

No response.

Thatcher sighed, preparing to kick open the door before it cracked open slightly, despite Thatcher not touching it. He glanced towards Ruth before pushing open the door further, expecting to see someone, but seeing nothing standing there. Thatcher shook off the strange wave of unease he felt when he stepped inside, convincing himself that it was just the wind that opened the door as he ushered Ruth inside.

Thatcher was greeted with the faint ticking of a clock when he entered the living room, glancing towards the opposite wall to see a tall, red-wood grandfather clock towering over everything else in the room. He looked up at its face, seeing that it was still in perfect working condition considering its hands twitched with every second, without fail. As Thatcher walked into the living room, shining his flashlight along the walls, Ruth looked to her left, seeing a small off-shoot of the living room. A piano was resting next to the wall, with note sheets placed on it. Ruth approached it, seeing the bookshelves beside it and a mirror above it. Ruth looked at her reflection before examining the frame of the mirror itself, brows furrowing when she noticed something around it; water damage.

“Ruth?” Thatcher called from the living room, turning around to look at her.

“I’m here, don’t worry.” Ruth sighed, stepping away from the piano to join the lieutenant, all while a deep red liquid leaked from behind the mirror.

“I don’t really see anything in here, at least nothing abnormal.” Thatcher stated as he looked around the living room.

As Thatcher walked around, Ruth looked towards the clock, staring up at its clock face. Thatcher walked towards a small table resting against the wall, picking up a picture frame that was resting on it before examining the photo. It appeared to be a photo of Maria Torres, along with her son, Cesar. Thatcher sighed, feeling a deep somber feeling looking at the happy faces of the two, knowing, or rather not knowing, the fate of the young man in that very photo.

“Weaver, have you found—” Thatcher paused when he noticed Ruth was still looking at the clock, he slightly shaking flashlight pointed up at its face. “…Ruth?”

“Yes?” Ruth shook her head, turning around towards Thatcher.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…I’m fine.” Ruth answered, though the strange disturbed look on her face made Thatcher believe otherwise.

The two soon passed through the archway leading into the kitchen, pointing their lights into it. There was a square dining table near the corner, with only three chairs accompanying it. The kitchen seemed tidy, with countertops looking as if they were cleaned just the night before. There were some decorations on the walls and some porcelain dishware in an antique shelving unit.

Ruth looked towards a door to the left of the entrance to the kitchen, opening it and looking inside, seeing that it lead to the cluttered garage. She turned to the left, though something felt off, despite nothing being there. She walked back into the main Home, looking into the living room and seeing the piano room. It looked as if it would’ve cut into the garage judging by its location, but when Ruth peeked into the garage again, there was nothing but a straight wall, with no room for the piano room to feasibly fit. She wasn’t sure if it was an optical illusion or simply her mind playing tricks on her, but it made her headache worse just thinking about it.

Thatcher looked to his right, seeing a door on the opposite wall of the kitchen, one that would lead into the living room judging by its placement. He walked towards it, reaching for the doorknob before gagging and backing away, covering his mouth and nose. Ruth looked back towards him, seeing that he was staring at the door with a look of disgust on his face. “Something wrong, Davis?”

“Something behind this door smells…rancid.” Thatcher explained, hesitantly removing the hand covering his face to try and open the door. The doorknob didn’t budge when he attempted to turn it. “…It’s locked.”

“You think it’s a storage closet or something?”

“It’s the only thing that would fit there…hoping it’s just…mildew or something.” Thatcher stated. “Though we’re gonna have to get this open before we leave. Maybe there’s a key around here.”

Thatcher and Ruth passed by the sliding glass doors to the side of the kitchen, staring down the back hallway, seeing that it had three doors; one on the left, one on the right, and one straight forward. The hallway itself bent oddly, with one of the walls feeling like it was placed there abruptly, with its wallpaper being a slightly different shade than the rest. Thatcher and Ruth walked down the oddly built hallway, with Thatcher opening the door straight in front of them, seeing that it led into the bathroom.

He shined his light across the bathrooms walls, soon stopping when he looked into the mirror. Water damage stained the walls around the medicine cabinet, with hundreds of small holes in the wallpaper seemingly oozing a substance Thatcher was unsure of. He stared into the mirror, looking himself in the eye before he attempted to open the medicine cabinet, being unable to for a second until he tore it open. Strands of some sort of red, vine-like substance was torn apart, finally allowing the cabinet to be opened, only to reveal nothing much of use. ADHD medication, bandages, and some miscellaneous items were all that was in there, though as Thatcher stared and pointed his light at the strange “veins” that had held the doors shut, he decided he was done looking in the bathroom.

He closed the cabinet door, turning back towards the hallway without seeing the second pair of eyes looking at him from the mirror. Ruth backed up as Thatcher exited the room, looking at him with a blank look on her face. “Find anything?”

“…I don’t…no.” Thatcher stated, closing the door and covering up the faint sound of tapping he heard from inside there. “I think we should call for reinforcements.”

“Why?”

“Something about this place, man…” Thatcher looked around with a worried look in his eyes. “…Did you find anything?”

“I looked in the bedroom,” Ruth gestured towards the bedroom to the right of the bathroom. “And there wasn’t much of anything in there. Looks like it belonged to Cesar.”

“Then the other one must belong to his mother.” Thatcher sighed. “I’ll look in there real quick, then we’ll…head out.”

“…So soon?”

“We can get a second look later.” Thatcher stated. “For now, let’s just…get this wrapped up.”

Ruth watched as Thatcher approached the other bedroom on the other end of the hallway, sighing deeply before she began to follow him, only pausing after only one step. She could hear something, coming from Cesar’s bedroom. It was faint, and muffled, but as she turned around she could hear it clearer; screams. She glanced back at Thatcher, seeing that he had already entered the other room before she grabbed her pistol and took it out of its holster, holding it by her side as she entered Cesar’s bedroom.

The screams sounded pained, and as she looked around, she saw an opening in the wall, one that she didn’t remember being there when she was last in the room. She swallowed hard, pointing her gun towards the opening, seeing that it led into a short hallway. On the other end of it was an old, wooden door, one that didn’t match the white painted doors that were in every other room in the house. A figure watched from the closet as Ruth stepped towards the door, entering the short hall as she heard the screams become louder. Her heart felt like it was beating heavier than normal, and her hands felt clammy and cold, unsure of what was causing it aside from a deep feeling of dread. “Hello?” She called. “Whoever’s there, please answer!”

No response, though the screams seemed to wane, becoming more like pained, muffled whimpers and groans. Ruth hesitantly put her flashlight onto her belt, reaching for the doorknob and turning it, seeing that it wouldn’t budge. “Damn it.” She swore under her breath before she called once again to the voice she swore she heard behind the door. “Look, we’re gonna get you out of here, okay? Just hang on—” Ruth turned to yell for Thatcher’s help, only stopping when she looked back towards the bedroom. The screams had stopped, and when she pulled out her flashlight to point it into the bedroom, she felt her heart sink. Her widened, horror-filled eyes stared forward, her face pale as if she just saw a ghost, and her body was as stiff as a statue, absentmindedly dropping her gun to the wooden floor.

There was a blank wall where the entrance to the hallway was.

Thatcher stared at the only half-made bed of Maria Torres before walking around the room. He sighed, realizing there was nothing of use in that room either, though with the lack of any useful evidence came the realization that it was time to leave. “Ruth, There’s nothing he—” He turned around, seeing that Ruth was nowhere to be seen, as if she had simply vanished. “Ruth?” Thatcher felt his heart pounding against his ribcage.

No.

No.

No.

No not again.

Please God not again.

“Ruth?” Thatcher was unsuccessful in cloaking the panic in his voice as he quickly left the room, looking around and seeing no sign of life. He searched through the other bedroom, seeing and hearing nothing more than his own footsteps and heavy heartbeat before he opened the bathroom door, looking inside to see no sign of his friend. “RUTH?” He grasped onto his radio, holding it up to his face before turning it on and speaking into it. “Ruth where the hell are you?” There was no response; complete radio silence. “Ruth, do you copy?!”

The sound of music from the living room replaced his panic with dread, with Thatcher slowly turning down the hallway towards the kitchen as he listened to the song. The light to the living room was on, with the light spilling into the kitchen from the archway connecting the two rooms. It was from the piano, being an old classical piece Thatcher felt was familiar, but not enough to name it. He swallowed hard, pulling out his gun from its holster before pointing it ahead of him.

The music became louder with each step the lieutenant took, its hands shaking slightly as it inched ever so closer to the archway, soon standing right beside it and pressing its back against the wall. It peeked around the wall, looking into the living room, just barely able to make out a figure sitting in front of the piano from where he stood. Thatcher sucked up his fear as he took a step into the living room, hearing the clock behind him as he quietly approached the piano room, soon being able to see who was playing the piano.

He saw the back of what appeared to be a young man, one wearing a stained, stitched together black suit and a white dress shirt under it. His spine stuck out from underneath the suit, as if the clothes were melded to it. His black, greasy, messy hair was swept to the side, neatly combed despite how dirty the hair itself was. Thatcher watched as he continued to play, seemingly unaware that Thatcher was even there. It stopped, its gun trained on the figure before it spoke. “Hands where I can see them.”

The figure paused, sitting completely still before looking up at the mirror above the piano itself, with Thatcher finally able to see his face through the reflection. It looked like Cesar, though it barely kept the façade together. Its left eye was replaced by dull-colored veins and arteries, coming out of the eye socket and fusing to the rest of his face and head. Its one remaining eye was wide open, along with its smile. It looked towards Thatcher from the reflection before speaking.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a performance, Lieutenant?”

The figure turned in his seat, placing his folded hands on his lap as he stared at Thatcher with a single, unblinking eye and a soulless smile.

“…Who are you?” Thatcher couldn’t help but notice his voice shook as he spoke, despite him wanting to retain a sense of stoicism.

“…I don’t think that’s important right now.” The figure stated. “Just refer to me as your Host for the night. Besides, I don’t even know if I could tell you my name even if I wanted to.”

Thatcher remained silent as the alternate went on. “Now tell me…who are you? Why are you and your friend here at all?” When Thatcher didn’t respond to the question, the alternate laughed. “Oh who am I kidding…I know your name, Mr. Davis. You two aren’t very quiet…I can at least gather what you call each other.”

“Where’s Ruth.” Thatcher questioned, his tone dark and his expression darker.

“Fodder, dear.” The alternate responded as if it was a stupid question, standing up and causing Thatcher to follow its head with his gun. “Now…why don’t I help you get settled in? I can make dinner, if you’d like.”

“Stay right there.” Thatcher ordered. “…Don’t move.”

“Oh…I suppose I can chat for a little while longer.” The alternate sat back down, staring up at Thatcher’s face, its own expression not changing even slightly. “Though please…I’d like this to be quick.”

“Where…is…Ruth.” Thatcher repeated, his voice more intense than before.

“…You two came at such a perfect time.” The alternate ignored the question asked. “She just wanted some visitors; she’s going to need the company before she sleeps.”

“…She? Who the hell is She?”

The figure chuckled before looking around. “Look around you, Davis. She’s the walls, the floors, the ceiling…she’s made a Home for you, one that welcomes all…even you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re so tense…I figured the concept of a place that’ll accept all company would be…relaxing.” The alternate stated. “I imagine a place that won’t judge you based on your faults would sound inviting for a man like you.”

Thatcher remained in a confused, horrified silence before the alternate stood up. “You know…you remind me of a story I heard once…one of a man named Icarus.”

Thatcher didn’t respond, wordless as the alternate continued. "Ever hear the tale of Icarus? The one who flew too close to the sun...whose hubris became his downfall? Burned, and fell all the way down.”

The figure chuckled, though it sounded more like a wheeze, before continuing. “It's funny. You feel like you can save everyone, don't you? If you just fly a little bit farther, you can keep everyone in this town safe? You've saved Dave. Ruth that one instance. However, you failed to save some. Ones that haunt your conscious despite never meeting them. Is that not why you’re here? To try and save those you failed to protect?”

            The figure stared into Thatcher’s face, leaning in closer before he muttered, “Believing you can save everyone will cause you to fall, and I have to ask you, Mr. Davis. Is your case one of flying too close to the sun? Or not flying far enough?"

Thatcher glanced behind him, seeing the front door and living room before staring the alternate in the eye. Thatcher stared into the pure black pupil of the alternate’s bloodshot eye in silence, before slowly and shakily pointing his gun at the figures leg and pulling the trigger.

The alternate didn’t scream, but fell to the ground on its injured knee, looking down at the steadily bleeding wound as Thatcher ran into the main living room. He reached for the front door, attempting to pull it open only to see that it was jammed shut. He backed away, looking back at the alternate to see it stumbling back to its feet, its joints clicking and cracking with every movement. Thatcher turned towards the couch sitting in front of the large window, seeing a small table resting beside it. He scrambled towards it, grasping it by its legs and throwing it as hard as he could into the window.

The glass shattered as the table careened through it, with the alternate beginning to scream behind Thatcher as he began to vault over it. “NO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?!” Thatcher placed his hand on the windowsill, hopping outside as fast as he could, trying to ignore the burning feeling he assumed was from cutting his fingers open with the shards of glass leftover. However, he found he couldn’t move his hand as soon as he was outside, letting out a pained yell as he looked back to see what it was caught on. Two of his fingers were fused with the windowsill itself.

Melted skin and veins attached the fingertips and the entirety of his ring and pinkie finger on his right hand to the House, being immobile despite how many times Thatcher attempted to separate himself from it. He turned his head around, seeing the alternate staring  back at him, for once without the smile on its face. Thatcher saw no choice; he had to force himself off of the windowsill, so he took in a deep breath, jerked his hand away once with no success. He tried to free himself by ripping his arm away from the window, feeling his shoulder tear and his fingers dislocate with every tug. He tried to pull his hand away once, then twice, then three times—

CRACK.

Thatcher screamed, not daring to look at his hand as he scrambled towards the police car on the side of the road; away from that damned house. He swung open the driver’s side door with his left hand, holding his right, rapidly bleeding hand close to his chest as he hopped into the car and started it after fumbling with the key for a second. He placed his clammy, trembling left hand onto the steering wheel, all before hesitantly holding up his right to see it.

The fingers that were stuck on the windowsill were missing.

He couldn’t calm his breathing as much as he tried, instead focusing on not vomiting as he drove away, using only his left hand to do so as he could barely feel anything in his right hand other than agonizing pain. He couldn’t even think properly, his mind going too fast to pick out anything from the mess. He muttered under his breath as he escaped, only worrying about one thing.

“I’ll come back…I’ll get help, Ruth, I will…I will…” He gasped. “I’ll get help…just…sit tight…I’ll be there.” He paused to take in another pained gasp.

“I’ll be there.”

October 6th, 1992. 12:00 PM.

Thatcher’s finger prosthetics itched.

He had been scratching the skin around it the entire day, with the skin in that area becoming red from it. He almost wished he could simply not wear them, but the new scars and the fact that he was missing fingers in general made him keep them on. As he sat, hunched over outside of the church auditorium, he stared blankly at the floor. He was wearing a black suit and tie, his hair being barely considered neat. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall made him sick, though it was better than the sound of people talking in hushed and somber tones around him. If anything, the distracting ticking helped him, if only a little, forget that he was there for a reason. A funeral.

No body was found yet the bastards decided to pronounce Ruth dead. Thatcher had told them Ruth wasn’t confirmed to have passed whatsoever, and could still be out there, yet they didn’t listen. Maybe the cost of a funeral was cheaper than the cost of sending more officers to the scene to get potentially killed. No matter the reason, Thatcher felt a deep hatred in his heart, past all the pain and sadness. How could they? They acted as if she wasn’t a person, only another fucking statistic. Though what was the worst part?

Thatcher could’ve prevented it.

How stupid was he to bring Ruth into danger again? Did he truly believe he would be as lucky as he was last time? Ruth was gone because Thatcher ran away. He was a coward; the very thing he feared becoming the most.

The bells tolled. Service was starting.

Thatcher sighed deeply, standing up before walking into the auditorium, not once looking up as he joined his fellow officers in the pews. He couldn’t bear to look at the casket in front of him, nor the photo of Ruth put up next to it as he sat on the cold wooden bench alone. He stared at his feet, absentmindedly scratching his knuckles with his dirty nails. He could barely think, his mind blank and his expression dead. He could barely even process what was being said by both the priest and whoever was giving the eulogy, simply staring forward before he finally looked at the casket. He knew it was empty, and somehow that made everything feel worse.

He looked to the right, noticing members of Ruth’s family sitting on the opposite side of the church. Parents sobbing, uncles and aunts mourning in silence, however the sight of little Amelia Weaver, sitting with her family, being embraced by her grandfather in an attempt to comfort her, made Thatcher’s heart heavier than a ton of bricks. She was so young, yet she was losing her only parent. Thatcher silently apologized to her, mentally telling her how sorry he was that he failed to protect her mother. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything out loud, with his throat tight and his chest tense. He turned back towards the casket, blankly staring at it as he wondered what would’ve been different if they never went to that House. Maybe she’d still be around. Maybe Thatcher wouldn’t have been a filthy coward.

Someone was walking down the aisle as Thatcher looked back down towards the ground, the person clad in a police uniform staring at Thatcher as he thought to himself. Thatcher listened to the words the priest was saying, though as the seconds ticked by his words became nothing but muffled speech in Thatcher’s mind. Thatcher heard the clock ticking again, this time giving him a headache that worsened with every tick. He kept scratching at his hand, not even noticing the thin, red lines his nails left behind. The figure in the aisle slowly walked towards Thatcher, soon standing directly behind him. Thatcher felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, looking up at the casket before he felt a hand be placed on his shoulder.

He flinched, turning around to see no one in the pew behind him. The sound of the clock was quiet again, barely audible. He stared down at his now bleeding hand, seeing the scratches he dug in his own skin that were bleeding ever so slightly. He let out a shaky breath as he covered his face, wanting nothing more than the service to be over.

Thatcher stayed behind even when the service was over and done with, staring blankly at the casket as if he was incapable of leaving. Even Ruth’s family had left a little while before, but Thatcher simply couldn’t make himself follow them out the door. He sighed deeply, standing up and grabbing a metal folding chair he saw leaning against the wall before placing it in front of the casket, sitting down on top of it in silence before he spoke.

“…I don’t think you can hear me, but…I guess this is for more my peace of mind.” Thatcher muttered, his voice raspier than usual. “…I’m sorry. I can’t even convey how sorry I am.” He let out a brief, forced scoff. “God…I’m fucking pathetic. You’re probably looking down at me…laughing at how God damn stupid I am.”

Thatcher paused, forcing out his words after a few moments of silence. “I failed you. I failed you twice…and…now…you’re gone.” He stifled a sob. “…All because I was scared. You’re dead because I was too fucking scared to protect you. What kind of fucking cop am I? I can’t even protect the people that actually fucking matter.” Thatcher looked up at Ruth’s picture, her smile feeling sunny, though it didn’t help the cloud of guilt over Thatcher’s head.

“If you’re still out there…” Thatcher muttered under his breath. “…I’ll find you. I don’t want forgiveness, I just…I…I-I just…want you here.” He grasped his hair as he hunched over, trying to hold in sobs as tears ran down his face. “I just need you here…”

“Mr. Davis?”

The sound of a deep voice behind it caused Thatcher to turn around, its eyes red from crying. It was Dave, standing in the aisle, staring back at Thatcher with a look of worry in his eyes. He was wearing tinted glasses, along with a black suit, though it was missing a tie. He limped over to Thatcher, supporting himself with the metal cane under his right hand as he approached the lieutenant.

“What.” Thatcher growled, not in the mood to talk.

“I just…wanted to…offer my condolences.” Dave stated quietly. “…I know how close you were to her. She…she was a good woman.”

“…She was.”

Dave looked away for a second, seemingly to think. “…Y’know, I’m…always available to talk.” He said. “I mean…it’s the least I can do.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that.” Dave said. “I know you’re not…and you know what? That’s okay. You need time to…mourn. I don’t think you should be so hard on yoursel—”

“Leave me alone.”

Dave became silent, staring at Thatcher as it looked away, once again staring at the casket with a dead look in its eyes. Dave sighed quietly before speaking again.

“If you need anything…just ask.”

With that, Dave began to walk away, leaving Thatcher by himself once again. It clasped its hands together hard enough to hurt, feeling like he had run out of tears to cry. He shook his head, standing up as he stared down at the casket in front of him. He placed a hand on the wood, standing in silence before whispering, “I’ll find you, alright? I promise.”

Thatcher hesitantly left the casket behind, putting his hands in his jacket pockets before walking down the aisle, finally leaving the church through the front door. His guilt couldn’t be described in words, and the emotions he felt clouding his mind were too much to handle, but one thing rang out from his mind, more than everything else; anger, both towards himself and the police station for deeming Ruth a lost cause. He was going to find Ruth, dead or alive. He made a promise, after all.

Until we meet again, Ruth.

[santacoppelia]

Good Omens master post and WARNING

I was happily participating in the fandom when I started noticing some things I will not condone:

Real person shipping and/or expressing hate for real life partners of famous people will gain you a permanent block/unfollow (So you ship actor A and B? And you hate their life partners? Go, die salty, they chose each other and their relationship is not for your enjoyment and none of your business). I do not condone and will not tolerate this behavior.

I reblog so many things, that I needed this sort of index to find the things I've written about the show that I want to find later.

I started with a long meta about how the overarching theme for Good Omens is the concept of "free will"

Then, I expanded on the @irispurpurea meta with my own "moral development chart" analysis...

I had a small emotional breakdown with some concept art...

And said something about how their lifespan and ours are not to be considered the same (4 years is nothing!)

And, somewhat on the same direction, how their communication problems are (and not) derived from being queer-coded.

I went on analyzing the "Crowley swag" from a body mechanics and acting perspective, and a little bit about David doing "mask work" when putting the sunglasses on...

Not really a meta, but some thoughts about a video of Michael Sheen talking about the strength required to be good, in relation to Aziraphale.

And my absolutely ridiculous headcanon about Aziraphale being actually proficient as a magician.

Obviously, the Metatron Meta

A short list of things we know about Maggie... That one day will be a headcanon.

And a short list of things I loved about the season, in Spanish, because it is my native language and I wanted to do it quickly.

Wouldn't it be fun if they had to share a body? (just a small musing)

A meta about angels and angelic nature (and why I feel Muriel will be important in s3)

The notes on serpents' eyesight that reinforce my headcanon of Crowley having bad eyesight (and, of course, it matches soooo well with poor David's experience with the special contacts and the sunglasses 😎)

A mini note about Aziraphale cornering himself

The gifs of my Reverse! Omens headcanon: David Tennant's angelic side, and Michael Sheen being a charismatic demon

The happy finding of rereading the book: there was a mention of a Shopkeeper's Association Dance!!! (oh, how I loved this inside joke)

This is not mine, but I looked everywhere for the screenshot of Neil searching the name for the coffee shop, and here it is. It was "Grounds for Divorce", so...

The tentative playlist, started by @temperance-sunlight, to let Crowley cry in style, like a señora. (Now with a Spotify version)

A little appreciation post to Michael Sheen's acting voice choices.

THE LONGEST META: an analysis of The Final Fifteen, through the optics of this season starting and ending with The Ineffables arguing.

a crack meta about the working conditions on Hell AND Heaven.

Un fic chiquito, en español, sobre las causas de la caída de Crowley. Este fue un regalo para una amiga, que me dio el detonador para escribirlo. The translation to English.

a meta about one of the great new characters from season 2: Shax!!!

Adding some ideas in a repost about Aziraphale having a protagonist-looking arch.

A long, rambly answer to a very lovely ask about free will and Aziraphale.

I wouldn't naturally associate the narrative analysis model with this masterpost, but i teased it and decided to write it in this post, after sensing a "shift in attitudes" towards Aziraphale when the filming of the kiss was discussed during Ineffable Con... So here it is.

I finally started publishing my "bahamut of a fic"! Under the Fold, an AU where A.Z. Fell + A.J. Crowley are human journalists involved in a web of scandals. It starts following the canon (somehow, considering that there is no Heaven and no Hell and the Armageddon is just an exposé) but it will diverge and be angsty but with an eventual happy ending.

Related to the fic, this meta: Ineffable detectives

This essay which is not about Good Omens, but takes David Tennant as a starting point to talk about fandom, aging and social constructs around getting older, fandom and culture.

[nonuggetshere]

I shared my (and my friend's ocs) that are related to PK SO-

This is A LOT and I'm kinda embarrassed but I'll fucking "cringe culture is dead" through life or so help me GOD

I like imagining backstories for characters and making cool little nonsensical and completely self-indulgent AUs

(Also for the few people subscribed to my patreon there's more stuff after what I've posted there, just scroll a bit down 👍)

F9r the record I also mangled mine and @demonicintegrity 's thoughts and ideas into one post so it's somewhat comprehensible but jsyk they contributed a lot

An AU where Adamas has her last clutch in her small form

As a refresher Amanita is White Lady's name and Ebur is Pale King's name. Adamas is Pale King's mother, though wyrms use dame and sire for their parents so that's what he calls her. I am yet to properly share Quercus but he's WL's father. Flower is my name for the Pure Vessel in this AU, Hallow is their birth name. Amaryllis is an oc, they're Flower's twin. Any other names that appear here are PK's siblings.

Also using they/it for Ebur and the rest of the family bc as wyrms they don't really have genders

Ebur and Amanita meeting while Ebur's family is travelling and Amanita still lives at the edge of her father's territory and her root system is connected with his but she's getting ready to leave hopefully in just one or two years when she's gathered enough strength and the spring's kind and abundant

Adamas' little group settles near her groove since it's brimming with life and there's not many people to get in the way or compete over resources with aside from the occasional traveller or two, and Amanita tolerates their presence for now, they give her something to do since her father is quite busy with his new seedlings now that she's grown and she doesn't have much company or things to do other than to listen to the occasional mortal passing by and watch the nature, so this small group of wyrms that's mostly composed of ones not much younger than her with all the hubris and boldness of young wyrms is the most interesting thing that's happened to her in a while

Some of them would probably push too far before Adamas had to smack them upside the head and reprimand them for ever thinking about taking over this territory, after all they're really on the larger territory of an ancient God, and even though Roots aren't known to be the most attentive of parents she still doesn't want to tempt fate and check if this one is the same by attacking his daughter

Either way, Amanita notices the younger wyrm isn't quite like the others and seems very intrigued by him

Although their first in face meeting wasn't the best, with her attacking him and managing to stab him in the ribs (you bet your ass Adamas chewed out his ass when he returned to their densite all bloody and holding his side), he kept returning to study her

Seems they both found each other intriguing

And eventually they get to talking, Ebur seemed excited to meet the first rootfolk in his life and actually to get to talk to her, he asks so many questions and she's amused with his curiosity, and eventually actually grows curious about the wyrms (and especially him) herself and asks him things in turn

They grow into unlikely friends though there's definitely more to it but neither is willing to acknowledge it yet

He often sneaks away from his family just to talk to her, and eventually they start sneaking into the more private parts of her groove with the excuse that they wouldn't want Ebur's family finding out they're friends, both of them just ignoring their glaringly obvious attraction to each other

One time Ebur brought her a kill he made and she hoped to GOD her blush wasn't noticeable (it was, not that he'd know because he was also avoiding eye contact to try and hide his own)

Ebur and the bad bitch he pulled by being autistic 💜

The group spends enough time around there for the two idiots to stop dancing around the subject and not only admit to their mutual attraction but to start to fall in love

Enough so that Ebur decides to stay when Adamas decides it's time to move on

At first she was about to talk sense into him about staying permanently in this place but he quickly corrected her

"No, no, it's not like that! I don't want to stay here permanently! I just..." He quieted down and looked away

"...You want to leave?"

"...mh..."

"Are you sure about this? Life as a lone wyrm isn't easy out there in the Wastelands, perhaps it'd be better if you stuck around until we find a suitable territory for you to stay at-"

"No, dame, I- I want to leave now. I think it's time. I love you all and I'll miss you, but...I just...I want to see what's out there for myself. Every year, every day, feels the same now; find some place, stay for a bit and hunt, move on. I- I can't live like this, it feels...suffocating."

"...You were always the curious kind, weren't you? I should have known this routine would bore you eventually," She sighed heavily and approached him, "I always knew this day would come, I just never expected it to be my youngest and smallest wyrmling that leaves the nest first..." She pulled him into a tight hug, "...Stay one last night with us, and if you're still sure about this after tomorrow's hunt I'll leave some supplies for you when we move on."

He smiled and hugged her back, "...Thank you..."

"Just promise me you'll be safe, okay?"

"You taught me well. I'll be alright, I promise."

He spends lots of time with his siblings and mother the next day, maybe Melpomene proposed she could come with since they were always the closest but he reassured her he wanted to be alone

The goodbye is very tearful, even Adamas cries and she's not the type to do that often

Ebur feels a little broken seeing them go, it feels weird being completely alone, strangely quiet too - he usually likes the quiet, but not this time. He goes to hunt to keep his mind off it then that evening he gathers his things and moves them to a densite way closer to his root's (his root, saying that makes him so giddy) and goes to share his kill with her

And that night, for the first time in their lives, he goes to sleep curled up around her amongst her roots. It does help him feel much better about having to say goodbye to his family

He spends the rest of the year in her groove with her - from summer to winter - before she's finally ready to move on next spring and he happily follows her to look for a new home for the both of them

Despite the new normal being hard to get used to at first he was still so unbelievably happy with her

And Quercus was considerably easier to hide their relationship from than his own family, considering they're on the outskirts of his territory and Ebur never saw him in person. As far as Quercus is concerned, Amanita just has a mild wyrm problem that she's handling well on her own

A few different  things could happen from then on

Could either go canon compliant or pull out one of my fav moves, a cute domestic AU where they don't found Hallownest or do it later down the line after already having children and just live for a while as a happy family

And also the Drama Flavour where Ebur ends up pregnant despite them not trying to, they say fuck it and have them but he gets very sick and she brings him to her father for help, cue him being appalled that she's partners with a wyrm and her telling him to suck a dick and she'll take care of him herself, then they have the worst luck ever after finding a brand new territory and stumble onto Ebur's family, and Adamas has some very strong opinions about him being mates with a root (she doesn't even realise he's expecting otherwise it would have been. Worse). Fucking Romeo and Juliet up in here

For the last idea, I like the idea of Adamas questioning if that root can even provide for him or any possible clutches he might have in the future and he gets so pissed off he bristles, tells her to drop it and he's done with her attitude and to get the fuck off his territory. She bristles and calls him out on being so cocky as to tell her to get out

"If you're so confident then come on, defend your territory! Kick me out yourself!"

"Stop it-"

"Come on, boy! Show me you can actually protect yourself and yours! If you want me out them force me out!"

"I'm not going to fight you, mother!"

"...Tsk, you even talk like her."

"...Just...Just leave...please."

She circles him, "You should know words won't be enough to protect your territory from intruders, and that young root definitely doesn't have it in her to do it. You promised me you'll stay safe, so show me you can actually take care of yourself!"

Instead she gets violently thrown back by a white root after Amanita returns to check up on her hubby <3

Puts herself between them, ready to snap their necks with her roots if she has to

"He told you to leave, so leave. Or should I make you, you old bag?"

"Amanita-"

Of course, it was 25% him not being willing to fight his own mother and 75% him being sick and not willing to risk the pregnancy, but he's not gonna tell her that when she reacted so negatively about him being mates with a root (and his siblings def teased him before the situation got serious)

He's gonna be SO fucking depressed about this later though

But I also just like the idea of them finding the place that would later become Hallownest and founding the kingdom together

Ebur: Babe do you want me to beat up this old slug for you?

Amanita: Oh how romantic~

Unn:(live slug reaction)

Unn: Just take the damn territory and leave me alone, you brats

I also made an entire AU with Integrity where PK moves on with his family with a promise that he'll be back next spring for her, only to realise he's expecting. And I am obsessed with this version, it's cute and domestic (in a wyrm kind of way) and I am sucker for these things.

Ebur leaves with his family, promising to return to her next spring so they can leave together, but what he DIDN'T account for was him getting pregnant

So now he has to think up an idea to sneak away and keep his pregnancy hidden until he's back with her. Very hard to do with his mother around, an old wyrm with decades worth of clutches she's reared into adulthood by herself, she sussed him out embarrassingly quickly

Ebur, trying to sneak out: 💦💦💦

Adamas, like she’s scolding a teen: where are you going at this hour?

Ebur: …. A walk to clear my head?

Adamas: do you think that excuse worked with your siblings back then?

Ebur: … no

Adamas: do you think it’s gonna work now?

Ebur: ……… no

Ebur, quickly thinking of something else: ......hunting...

Adamas: Hunting?

Ebur: Hunting.

Adamas: At midnight? With your white, glowing ass? After we just ate?

Ebur: .........I'm hungry.

Adamas: Uh-huh

Ebur, bristling: Well! I'm a grown wyrm, I can do what I want!

Adamas: Oh can you now?

Ebur: 💦💦💦

Adamas: You're an adult but I'm still this group's leader, including yours

Ebur: Yes, dame. I'm sorry, dame

He does his best to mask his scent and keep his hormones and instincts under control, tries to sleep a little further from the group, is very careful on hunts and starts eating away from them when food aggression starts kicking his ass

One time Adamas finally approached him at meal time, throwing him her portion

"Here, eat up."

He looks at her, confused, "...I...what?"

"Just eat, kid."

He hesitantly takes it and leaves it near as he continues with his portion, "Don't you need to eat also?"

"Eh, I've eaten enough. Besides, I'm not the one who's eating for more than one right now."

"HRK-"

He looks at her, horrified, and she can't help but laugh

"What? You think I haven't noticed? Come on, you could fool your siblings with your excuses but I've had plenty of clutches of my own," She pats him on the shoulder, "Come on, eat up, kid. You need to put some meat on these bones."

He sighs heavily and goes back to eating, red in the face and a little awkward, unable to look her in the eyes as she's just observing him

"...If you copulated around the time of your first heat last spring-"

"HRNK?!"

"Oh, don't be like that, you're not a child anymore. Anyway, your due date should be in winter...not the ideal time to have a clutch, but we could make this work. You'll need to eat a lot if this kid is to have any chance of survival, though," She looked back st him, "...If you want to keep it, that is."

He goes quiet, his tail curling in close, "...I...y-yeah, I do..."

"...Alright, if that's what you want."

"You seem nervous."

"...How- how could I not be? I mean, all of this, it's...it's my first brood, and if they're due in winter..."

She scoots closer to him and wraps her tail around him, "Hey...you're not alone in this, okay? You have your siblings and I, we'll take care of you and your young. It's going to be alright." And she nuzzles him gently

Obviously they figure out the children are part root, but only some time after they're born

At least now Ebur has an excuse to return to her, saying she'd have valuable input on caring for them

That doesn't stop his siblings from teasing him about possibly wanting to see her again and being in love (they're right, but he's not about to admit it)

Also the moment he accidentally let's her name slip he's not gonna hear the end of it

Adama: So you want to return to the groove?

Ebur: Yes. I mean, she taught me a lot about rootfolk, but-

Io: Uh-huh, I bet she did. Close and perso-

Ebur, slapping him with his tail: ...Anyway. She told me a lot, but still, Amanita would kno-

Adustus: YOU KNOW HER NAME?!

Ossum: OHHH, LITTLE LOVERBOY IS ON FIRST NAME BASIS WITH THE ROOT~?

Ebur: You're killing me

God can you imagine what kind of pains in the ass these cunts were when Adamas and Ebur broke the news to them

Constant teasing and asking who it was

Ebur gets no rest

Adamas takes her little shits on a training hunt again

"Why do we need to train anyway? You've taught us how to hunt seasons ago."

"I did, but not with two members down. You need to practice now before your sibling stops being able to join us on hunts."

"...two...?"

"Yes, two. It'll be safer if somebody stays behind with Ebur when he's further along and carrying for his young, so I need to know we'll be able to provide for this family with two hunters down and more mouths to feed."

"...Can't I join your hunts anyway? You hunted by yourself while pregnant, didn't you?"

"I did, but I was also alone, I had no choice. You shouldn't have to choose between your children's safety and finding food. We live as a family for a reason, what would we be but animals if we don't take care of each other? I'm not letting you or your young live like lone nomads when you have us."

They also hunt more since Ebur needs more food, especially later down the line, and if anybody complains she's gonna cut that shit down SO fast

"I don't want to hear it! Ebur and the brood they're carrying are your kin, so start acting like it and have some damn respect. Do you think Ebur would be here complaining if the roles were reversed? Do you think they wouldn't care for you when you need it? We're a family, we take care of each other, in sickness and in health. Your sibling and his children need you. If that's a problem for you, you're free to leave and live as a nomad, but as long as you follow me and are a part of this family I don't want to hear any complaining, got it?"

"...yes, dame. I'm sorry."

"Instead of apologising to me make yourself useful. And treat your siblings kinder, one day you might be the one who needs their help so you better hope your words don't come back to bite you then."

Adamas is a strict parent but very much loves her family and it's so important to her that they take care of each other <3

She's a good mum, if a little bit hard on them at times

Melponeme, loafing in front of Ebur: ….

Ebur: …. What. Go away

Melp: im not touching you

Ebur: what do you want

Melp, loafing, staring: ……….

Ebur: ………………

Melp: you’re gettin fat

Ebur: no shit it’s almost like a have a litter growing inside me

Melp, reaching over to poke his stomach:

Ebur, batting: stop that!!!

Melp: how many do you think they’re gonna be?

Ebur: I dunno

Melp: probably like. A lot of you keep growing at this rate

(And then it's just two. Absolute menace <3 won't give him a break)

Ebur, growling:

Adamas: Dear, if you keep poking at a predator like that it's gonna strike

Melp: Nahhh, they're harmle-

Ebur, pouncing on her:

Melp: !!!

"Don't be too rough with your sibling, they're expecting."

"Oh come on! They started it! They can't keep holding the pregnancy thing over our head constantly!"

Ebur sitting there like >:3

“Well they’ve got a few more months and then it’s fair game”

"Oh, so you'd beat up a new parent and leave my children orphaned? How cruel"

"I'm not gonna kill you, you maniac?!"

Also once he's much further along he digs himself a separate den and slowly moves in there, it worries his siblings but Adamas assures them it's normal, wyrms prefer to be alone in the first few days before and after giving birth

"Are you sure they're okay? Can't they stay with us?"

"Pff, would you prefer to get growled at and possibly mauled every time you come into your den? They'll be fine, don't worry."

His siblings go out hunting and gathering more often after that and finally give him lots and lots of warm and soft bedding for his new den

"Since you'll sleep alone we thought you and the baby could use some warmer bedding."

And he can't help but smile and wag his tail

Wondering if wyrms would have a word for aunt/uncle and what would it be?? Obviously not auncle, since aunt and uncle aren't wyrm temrs

Currently they don't have any, anybody beyond your parents, siblings and young are just "kin"

Maybe they'd use cousin? (As in. Also use cousin, not a replacement for aunt/uncle. I realised I worded this weird)

Half of this is Ebur's siblings fretting over him and Adamas having to keep them straight and from freaking out KDBDJRB

“GET OUT OF MY DEEENNNN”

“Oh but we worry about our poor lil sibling!!”

“FUCK OOOFFF”

Gonna get hissy and pissy and Adamas will just shake her head and say she warned them

“Can we see the babies now— UAGH”

“-HISSSSS-“

Glaring at them from the entrance of his den before the babies even arrive

"You're so lucky I'm round and slow right now"

“Hehe spherical”

“Shut the fuck up”

Also been thinking about the delivery. This sounds weird,,

TW for childbirth, pregnancy, etc, and mention of near infant death

Anyway, his siblings would notice he stopped eating, only stays in his den, and would bring it up to Adamas

Her ear just twitches and she looks over at his den, "...Seems the little one will arrive any moment, then."

"Huh?"

"How can you tell?"

"I also stopped eating like two to three days before I had you or any of my previous litters. It's normal. Just give them some space, they're going to be especially irritable now."

Then one night one of them wakes up and immediately wakes the others, as Adamas isn't in the den. They peek out to look for her and find her just sitting nearby and staring at Ebur's den

"...Dame? Why aren't you in the nest?"

"Quiet down. Do you smell that?"

They pause to scent the air

"...blood?"

"...It's been a while," She gets up and dusts herself off, "I'll go check up on your sibling, you keep watch for me. Don't come too near, he's probably stressed as is."

She approaches his den and they see her quietly talking before she disappears inside. They keep watch as promised, though all of them are fidgety and uneasy, pacing and shifting around, trying to chat to pass the timd

After what feels like forever though one of them tells them to shut up for a moment and when they do they can hear very faint cries coming from the den

They wait with held breaths and eventually Adamas stalks out of the den holding bloodied bedding (to a group of nervous wyrms looking at her like 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁, almost makes her laugh)

"...so?"

"So what?"

"Dame, please-"

She snickers, "There's two."

They all seem excited, which makes her smile

"How are they?"

"Ebur is fine. One of the wyrmlings is strong, and the furstborn..." She trails off, swishing her tail, "They'll make it, if they survive this night."

The five visibly deflate at the news

"...Are they gonna...?"

"Only time will tell. Like I said, if they survive this night they should be okay. Don't repeat this to Ebur, though, they've had enough of hardships for one night," She turned to leave, "I'll go burry these sheets. You five, go hunt for your sibling and their young, they're going to need the strength. I'll look after them."

They hurry off, a hunt seems like a good opportunity to blow off some steam

When they return, Adamas shows them how to thinly mince the meat for the the newborns before she delivers the food to Ebur and his kids

That's pretty much the norm for the next few days, Adamas is the only one who he allows into the den so she updates the siblings on the situation and stays with him while they go hunting

The day after, after they made their hunt for the day and Adamas once again disappears into their sibling's den with the food, was probably the most stressful. The five waited for her for what seemed like eternity and immediately pounce on her for info like young wyrmlings the second she's out

"Won't you five calm your tails?! Your sibling and their young are fine."

"And the firstborn?"

"They're doing much better and seem strong. You can stop panicking."

Though they're less intense about this afterwards, everytime Adamas leaves the den she's met with five wyrms staring at her and eagerly awaiting any updates

"Do they have names yet?"

"Ebur said they did pick already, you'll learn them once you meet the younglings"

"UUUUGHHH"

"MAAAAN"

"Stop being dramatic, it's only a few more days"

The five also get an idea to make the twins little clothes so they can stay warm and cosy

They get to gift them to Ebur once they finally meet the little ones

One day, after nearly a week, Adamas leaves the den to see the five wyrms once again waiting on her and she sighs heavily before smiling

"Alright, who wants to meet the babies?"

And they all get SO excited, before she has to remind them to keep calm to not spook their sibling or his kids

They go into the den one by one, which is thankfully big enough for all of them, where Ebur is laying in the corner, curled up around two little sleepy boundless and purring to them

His siblings are just awe struck at the babies and coo to them, showering them and Ebur with so many compliments

"They look a little odd for wyrmlings though, don't they?"

Io proceeds to get very roughly jabbed in the side by Fossor

"Ow, what the hell?!"

"Don't be an ass. Obviously they're not full wyrms, idiot, they're going to look different."

Though none of them is yet to clock that they're half-root

They get the babies thick clothes so they can crawl outside the den (under incredibly strick supervision by all 7 of their family members) once they're big enough

"Ebur, quit grooming them! They won't combust into flames if they have a speck of dirt or snow on them!"

"Mrrrr"

Melpomene: So, how did you name them?

Ebur: The firstborn is Hallow and the second born is Amaryllis

Io: Hm, weird names for wyrms

Ebur: 💦💦💦

Fossor, readying to hit him again:

Hallow, crawling towards Io with intent to Bite:

Io: Ohhhh little lad on a mission, what will they do? Beware the big bad wyrm

Hallow: Grrrr

Io:*casually just rolls away*

Hallow, flopping down and looking at him offended before SCREAMING angrily to voice their displeasure at inability to bite and maim uncle: EEEAAAAAAAAA

Gonna crawl towards him with even more determination

Adustus: Snrk- Stop giving the poor kid a workout and let them bite you

Io: If they wanna bite me they should prove it by getting me the legitimate way

Adamas: that one has a strong set of lungs

Ebur: mhm

Ebur: ...Was I this loud at their age?

Adamas: Absolutely. The loudest

Ebur: .......oh

Adamas: yeah. oh. Little snot

Ebur: hey!

(Mean to him <3)

Just wait till they figure out the connection between Amaryllis and Amanita

Of course loverboy would name the baby after a flower LMAO

".....snrk"

"shut up. shut up. shut the fuck up. I dont wanna hear it. Shut your bitchass up."

Start teasing him that he is SO smitten and in love

None know just how right they are

He's gonna die or commit murder at this rate

Ebur being all "it's not like that, it's not like that" and then when he sees Amanita again they're all lovey dovey and cute

I think Adamas' group was in the groove for like 2 years so they did have time to develop a meaningful relationship, though it's still nothing compared to how they're gonna be in a few years KFBDJFH

Io: not like that my ass—

Ebur: Shut the fuck—

Amanita: :? Not like what my darling?

Adustus: he’s been swearing up and down it isn’t love and he hasn’t totally been courting you

Amanita, amused: aaaww my dear Ebur, so now you’re shy with your affections~?

Ebur, sputtering: Ami, please not in front of my family...

Ossum: AMI

Ebur: I BITE

Ossum: Yeah, I bet ~your Ami~ knows a thing or two about that, huh~?

Ebur: GRRRRR

Amanita, laughing a little: I haven’t heard you growl that loud since we first met my wyrm~!

Ossum: good gods y’all are nauseating

Adamas: Her wyrm, huh?

Ebur: NOT you too

Amanita, not helping as she nuzzles him: My wyrm~

She's having so much fun <3 He can't help but smile though

Ebur: You're...impossible, my darling

Amanita: 🥰

Adamas: So, how long have you been together?

Amanita: Officially? Only one year, but we've been courting for much longer than that~

Adamas: Oh, you're official hm? Ebur, you never told me you've found yourself a mate. Look at you growing up on me, my youngest wyrmling has a mate and children already

Ebur: My dame, please

Amanita: ....children?

Adamas: ... you didn't know?

Ebur: Hey i was suppose to surprise her with that dame!

Ebur: Plus, I only found out after I left, not like I could tell her I was-

Amanita, grabbing him: Darling, what's that about children?

Ebur: .... We have two my darling.

Amanita: We have children!?

Ebur: yes. Our...... time together has resulted in me becoming gravid. We have two healthy children

Amanita, shaking him: Show me!!

Ebur, laughing: Well, stop trying to give me whiplash and I will!

(They're so adorable it makes me sick <- Ebur's siblings probably)

Presents her with the two little guys with a big smile. Tells her their names and she kneels down to hold them both and nuzzle and give kisses and be so so emotionally happy about it

The rest of the family give them some privacy so they can have a proper reunion and Amanita can meet her children

She's so SO happy

Scoops all three of them up and nuzzles him, looks at them as if they're her whole world

"Oh, my darling, they're so beautiful, so perfect...I love them..." She whispers, her breath caught in her throat for a moment, "...I love you."

His heart skips a beat and he nuzzles in close and kisses her cheek, "I love you too..."

And the babies are gonna ruin the moment and squeaking in protest about being held <3

"ooohhh my little sprouts, I need to plant you in my den and watch you grow big and strong youre so precious~"

"wait like. Actually bury them??"

"A little yeah. They should be able to root I think"

"...hm!"

"...Unless they're more wyrm in that regard?"

"Well, they seemed to do just fine on meat, but there's no harm in trying other things. Maybe a combination will be best for them?"

"Oh dear..."

"Don't worry, my love, we'll figure it out together"

Theyre rowdy and like to run around and play

but for sleepy time they get to be buried in the dirt. Makes em giggle and keeps them warm

OH the convo between Adamas and his siblings in the meanwhile

Adustus: ...He's gonna leave, isn't he?

Adamas: Hm?

Adustus: I mean, with our group we can't stay anywhere for too long, especially in a small groove like this, we'd run out of prey. And a root wouldn't be able to keep up for long, they're stationary. And...I doubt he'd leave her, just look at them.

Adamas: ...He seems happy. It'd be good for the little ones to have both parents too.

Amanita, planting the babies for the first time:

Quercus, waking her up at ass o'clock after he sensed two new seedlings near her: 👀 👀 👀

Amanita: huh wh

Quercus: KIDS?? KIDS?? DO I HAVE GRANDKIDS PRINCESS???

Amanita: pfft. yes.

Amanita:

Amanita, internally: wait shit fuck

Quercus: oh hey that wyrm problem came back. Lemme drop by and see how my daughter is doing since im not busy

What a fucking reunion that would be huh

Adamas: I've heard you want to leave? Maybe you should come with us, then, it'd be easier for you

Amanita: Ah, but would you like to leave now? Because it's already almost the end of spring, I don't think it'd be a good idea for me to leave now, I might not survive winter if I'm not rooted down somewhere by autumn. We were planning to leave early next spring, if you'd like to live in my groove until then you're fully welcome to

Adamas: But what of your parent? Wouldn't they notice?

Amanita: It's alright, he didn't came by last time you were here for over two years, I'm sure it's fine now, he won't even notice 😊 (narrator voice he did notice)

"Hey sweetheart how are you.... doing...."

Amanita, with the family of wyrms just hanging out in her den: .......... Daaaadddddddd what a suuurrrppprriiissseee💦

Her just trying to cover up this fairly large family of wyrms

Adamas getting defensive when Quercus is questioning Amanita

Starts growling and pushes to the front of them

Quercus: Stay out of this, wyrm

Adamas: Like hell I am! I'm not letting you step all over my family or my daughter

Amanita: It's really not nece- daughter??? 🥺

Quercus: Daughter?!

Adamas: Yes, daughter, she's my child's partner so as much of a family to me as my own children!

Amanita's just trying so fucking hard not to get emotional and cry over this now

too bad Quercus is bristling at that

Amanita and Quercus are emotional over this but in completely opposite directions

Amanita has to get herself together to step between them before it ends in a fight

GOD. I AM SO EMOTIONAL OVER THIS. AMANITA BEING ACCEPTED INTO HIS WYRM FANILY AFTER THEY SEE HOW MUCH SHE AND EBUR LOVE EACH OTHER 🥺 SO CUTE

She gets to root in and do some wyrm watching with her tubers

Amanita, to the kids: look how silly your father can be. Look, watch

Amanita, wiggling a root:

Ebur: 👁️👁️

His siblings watching him paw at the root

Adustus: ...Dude...

Fossor: Good fates he's domesticated

Adamas: …… oh how the mighty fall

She always knows how to embarrass him in front of his family 🥰

Zooming through her roots to play while Adamas wonders how he inherited such weird quirks

Adamas: I should have judged my mates better, what is this...

Ossum: hey they're the only one Like That

Melp: yeah we’re normal about things

Ebur: Snrk- Yeah, just wait till you find your own mates

Io: I think you're just weird, actually

Ebur: At least I have a mate and children, you lonely ass

Amanita delights in how silly the tubers are. Truly the most delightful thing

Ebur's family think it's funny how the twins have been dubbed the tubers since they came here

But hey, it fits

I bet Amanita sometimes just casually steals her wyrm away

Just picks him up with her roots like "I'll be taking that~"

They're so lovely dovey it's nauseating

Even Adamas teases him about her swooping him off his feet

And he can't keep the smile off his face when he talks about her or hide the blush when they tease him so he really can't hide it

Ebur and the tubers also sleep in her den, keep in her tangle of roots.

The others can set up a den as they please

He at first set up a den near her instead of with her but it was literally abandoned on night one

It's his den in spirit

The second his siblings realise its been abandoned and how fast he's getting teased AGAIN

“Shouldve just saved the time and effort and not done that altogether.”

“I didn’t ask you”

Adamas: No, I bet they tried really hard to use that den but really couldn't help themself be apart from her, didn't you?

Ebur: ...grrrr

Adamas: Snrk, seems I got it right

Amanita: you made a separate den from me???

Adamas: case n point

Ebur: Ooooh, God forbid I want to sleep with my partner! You insufferable twats

Adamas: You’re such a fucking sap

Amanita: Oh but they're my sap~ And I think it's so cute~

Gets a collective "Bleh" out of them

The two looking over their tubers playing with Ebur's siblings

Amanita: Oh, these kids are great, I love them so much

Ebur: Mhm

Amanita: We should have more~

Ebur, sputtering: Amanita!

Io: HEY WE HEARD THAT YOU FUCKING WEIRDOS

Amanita: what? You didn’t think I was going to want just one clutch did you love?

Ebur: w-what—

Amanita, curling around him: I have an urge for my seeds to spread my wyrm~

Io, gagging:

Fossor: What the hell, you two

Ebur: Not- not in front of my family, my love...

Io: literally traumatizing. What is wrong with them both

The rest is pretty much just VERY half assed future stuff and this is long enough as is 😐 So like. Yeah.

[ironaparrot]

Hey people, so, Shadowtale has been technically dead and stagnant for probably months now. This is because I don’t know where to go with it. I’ve been slowly building a OC multiverse, and thanks to the help of democracy; aka asking for people to vote, I’ve come to the decision to bring Shadowtale into that multiverse. Does this mean that it isn’t UT related anymore? No! The Undertale AU still exists, but I can’t do much with it, however it’s still there, and still owned by me. With it being dragged into this OC multiverse actually doesn’t change it as bad as you’d think. Very little needs to change, mainly locations, names (even then that’s only for a few characters), even designs can stay apart from minor changes such as making some of the Skele’s “human”

Part of the issue lies in the fact there is no proper conflict after a point, Shadowtales ending has always been a big spot of concern for me and @hoodedalchemist. So, with the lack of an ending, and the fact that the conflict mainly relies on two already strong characters going back and forth, it just seems like the best idea. Shadowtale overall has somewhat outgrown Undertale. It has so many cool ideas and so much effort put into it, that restricting it to an already established multiverse makes it very difficult to play around sometimes.

So yeah, that’s about the gist. The characters are still the same as you’ve known el personality and probably design wise. Power wise too tbh. Just an update. While I will be putting more attention towards this OC multiverse and Shadowtales inclusion in it, the Undertale AU still exists, and still is mine, which means it can always get more updates.

If you did read all this, thank you for sticking around this long. Both in this post, and just in my little community. I hope the change doesn’t lessen your enjoyment of the AU, but instead make you excited to see new ideas play out. If you have any questions feel free to ask. Hope you guys have a good day!

[everything-is-as-it-was]

hiyaa :) ask game so we can tag phan!! shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up + if you think they can be related to DnP or not. Copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals!!

Thanks so much for the ask @laprasboat !! I was kind of wondering when I'd get this loll

It's All Happening by Saint Motel

Somewhat? I think it's just A Vibe but I think it could represent DnP in their new era:

"I went and faced my monsters,

looked 'em straight in their eyes

Now look around, it's beautiful

as far as we can see

The past has turned to history

and it's all happening, finally"

2. I'm with You by GROUPLOVE

This is also just A Vibe (towards the end) but yeah the lyrics are kind DnP coded:

"I'm with you, this is all I do know

For the years, this is mine to follow

This is hope, that it's all I know that I have seen it through

This is all I can do

Ah, ah, ah, ah, oh, oh, oh, oh,

I'm with you, you"

so like, devotion, love being the only constant, etc.

3. Stadt by Cassandra Steen, Adel Tawil

SO good. So so good. Love this song. Not as much, but I can kinda compare it to DnP creating the world they want around each other, in a way.

"Ich bau'ne Stadt für dich

Aus Glas und Gold wird Stein

Und jede Straße die hinausfürt

Führt auch wieder rein

Ich bau eine Stadt für dich und für mich."

(I'm building a city for you,

from glass and gold that become stone

And every street that leads out

Leads back in again

I'm building a city for you and for me)

Actually yk what this sounds the most like the perception of DnP I have in my mind this exercise is truly eye-opening

4. Eleven by Last Dinosaurs

This one is very peppy so I was kinda surprised the lyrics were a bit sad?? Not super DnP coded but I can maybe see young Dan in them:

"Deep down, I know something's gotta give

But now, I want everything but ease

I know now, the end is so near

Alright, I don't want to lie

But something ain't right

If I did explain, would it blow your mind?"

(This song is a vibe though- like blasting in the car with the windows down kinda thing to me)

5. I Want It That Way by The Backstreet Boys

I KNOW I KNOW OKAY it's a vibe thoughhhh

This song kinda portrays a toxic relationship?? So I wanna say it's not DnP coded lol. The "you are my fire, my one desire" part I think is true, but... yeah overall not Dnp coded

"Tell me why

Ain't nothing but a heartache

Tell me why

Ain't nothing but a mistake"

so... yeah.

This was so fun! Thanks for reading to the end :) None of these artists (except for Saint Motel, which I love) I actually listen to regularly, so it's interesting that these came up! Thanks again @laprasboat for tagging me!

[anonymousboxcar]

My Stanley (RWS) Headcanons

I’ve finished an AU series to do with Stanley, but I still find my mind going back to him! Here’s an assortment of headcanons I’ve developed lately.

A headcanon with an asterisk (*) next to it relates more to my AU series, while one with a dash (-) is more canon-compliant.

———————————

-Built for trench railways in WWI, Stanley only spent a month in the U.S. before going overseas. He still has most of his accent because he spent a lot of his early life working with American servicemen.

-(He also realized that it annoyed some people, making him lean into it out of spite.)

-His accent somewhat softened, however, after exposure to European accents. He knows a smattering of French he picked up from the trenches in France as well.

-He also picked up smoking cigars from the trenches, when an officer tried to use his firebox to light a cigar. Stanley protested until the desperate officer offered to share the cigar with him.

-The other officers thought this was hilarious. Soon, they too began sharing their cigars with Stanley. He enjoyed feeling like one of them and grew to crave the taste of cigar smoke.

*These days, Stanley doesn’t smoke any tobacco or nicotine products. It can’t hurt him, but he knows now the secondhand smoke could hurt the humans that work with him. His years in the mine forced him to quit anyway, leaving him free of cravings.

-Stanley doesn’t know much about “the States,” but he doesn’t like admitting that. He wishes that he spent more time in his country of origin, with Baldwin Works and his Baldwin siblings.

-All he knows about the U.S. comes from his late-night talks with American servicemen, who were eager to talk about and remember their homes. It was then he realized that most of these men were, in actuality, quite young. Many of them were still teenagers.

-He saw some flashes of action during his service, but he saw the aftermath of action more often. It was no easier on him once he knew the casualties were too young to even drink.

-A consequence of this is that Stanley developed a soft spot for children. Following his transfer to the Mid-Sodor, he’d take extra care if he had children as passengers on his trains, speaking with a gentleness that belied his usual bluntness. He wanted them to have the childhood that the soldiers of the Great War lost too soon.

*It wasn’t until after his rescue from the mines that he realized he’d lost his own childhood of sorts. Baldwin Works built him for war. There was no innocence, no idyllic phase. There was no time to grow into his frames.

*To an extent, his efforts to ensure happy childhoods for people was him projecting his own wish for a better youth.

*It’s still difficult for Stanley to talk about WWI and his military service. But after seeing he was more affected by it than he thought, he’s begun to open up about it more often. This continues to illuminate aspects of his years on the Mid-Sodor. For instance…

-Stanley had no conception of civilian railways before he came to the Mid-Sodor. He didn’t know how to socialize with civilian engines, crews, or passengers. As a result, he seemed rude and disrespectful. (Though he could be genuinely rude when it came to Duke, who he sometimes thought of as an old stick in the mud.)

-Derailments were also commonplace on the trench railways. Not only did he and his siblings derail often, but so did many other engines due to the precarious nature of their tracks and their light rolling stock.

-As a result, Stanley grew to perceive derailment as a part of daily life. He grew to “not give a dime about a few spills.”

-He was telling Duke what he honestly thought: that it was normal. And once Stanley determined the problem was with his gauge and not the track, he figured they would regauge him soon.

-The military repaired him because it was necessary for their operations. It was common sense. He didn’t think it was any different on the Mid-Sodor… until it was too late.

*Nowadays, Stanley still refuses to sit in the very back of a shed, or to go into a mine. He hates being confined to any place for too long.

*These are his limits. He accepts this, and so do his friends. However, after some thought, he begins exposure therapy of sorts with some cramped spaces. “I can avoid a mine, but what if I get stuck in a tunnel?” he asks. “I gotta learn how to deal with stuff like that.”

*It’s all very difficult sometimes, but it’s possible. It’s worth it in the end. Every end, he’s decided, is a new beginning.

[esmemarion]

I frankly do not give too much of a fuck what two teens have to say about me, especially when they're demonizing someone for having BPD symptoms that they already openly stated they are trying their best to keep better control of two months prior (NOTE: This is an explanation, not an excuse. I do not want this getting twisted into shifting the blame). I've done bad things and I'm holding myself accountable for them. I got overly protective of my FP (who I thankfully have a much healthier friendship with now),, I got too judgy of certain people, and I crumbled at the smallest bit of confrontation and criticism. These are things I've been aware of and I have been trying my best to work on myself with. I am still sorry for what I've done and I wish to improve myself.

I'm more upset at my friends being attacked for actually being good friends to me and wanting to see me grow and change. Contrary to what some may believe, they do not Blindly Support Me. There's plenty of times where I was held accountable by them and I tried my best to take their advice. Two friends told me I have I have an issue where I tend to talk to people like they're other Mes and... that's something that really made me think about how I conduct myself.

-

Somewhat related but I've been thinking about this for a while. I'm 25 and .. I think I'm outgrowing fandom culture, at least the current state of it. Fandom these days is just a toxic cesspit of discourse, parasocial behavior , backstabbing, encouraging issues for peoples' mental health.... I could go on. It's a pretty big reason my mental health has been at rock bottoml. I really despise being seen as a role model just because I can make something that at least a few people like. I didn't like this when I was primarily a Cookie Run artist and I don't like this in the Pop'n Music community. I am not someone to be looked up to like that. I'm a mentally ill and disabled adult who draws silly hippies because they're some of the only things that make me genuinely happy. They've comforted me during tough times and I only want to spread my love for them. They're still going to be a apart of my life as long as I'm even remotely fixated on them, but for now I am only going to let people who are genuinely interested in what I splurge about into my heart. Instead of people going "Hey, you're that person in the Pop'n community who draws the Sunshine Lovers," I want more of "hey, I want to know about your AU and maybe a bit about you as a person, you seem cool" - I managed to become friends with people like PhantomStrider's asset artist, DreHigbee, because he grew invested in my AU - hell, he thought the Sunshine Lovers were my OCs at first :p

I've learned that I'm a lot more comfortable and healthier in a community of a good variety of people who are compatible with me than just... A bunch of people where the only thing they have in common is the one thing they like. There are cases where the latter can work out well, like recently I joined the community Discord for Tweeterman287, a childhood YouTube staple of mine, and it's one of the most chill servers ever. We're all just a bunch of geeks talking about geek things. I wish all fandom spaces had that vibe. There is a Pop'n server I'm in that scratches that itch too, and it's a place I call home, yet the more fandom-brained folks bash it for not having room for more toxic behavior. Think of this place like a college courtyard where people are laughing and playing No Rules Football vs a playground of kids trying to take each others' lunch money

[laugtherhyena]

Hey, Carol! Sorry about the earlier mishap! As I was saying, I know that you’re a diehard Hatamori shipper to your core, but I must ask: what is your opinion on Ayakane (Ayame x Akane)? Please and thank you!

No problem dude! I just felt it be kinda weird to ramble on my ship opinions on someone else's post you know?

And, wow! This turned out longer than I expected so uhhh ramblings under the cut so that random tag passerbys won't get jumpscared by shipping opinions💥

Anyways, Ayakane! One of the most popular ships in Dra I'm pretty sure. The funny thing is that I'm 99% sure that if i had first experienced Dra as intented instead of just fucking around in the fandom with spoilers from day one and a whole lot of lack of information about the first game from back then i totally would have been an Ayakane shipper, like, when i look at it objectively i see it has everything i like in a ship; The two characters have a sweet relationship and really care for one another, it's got angst at the same time that it can be super cute + they actually have canon basis and moments together in the game! And that's without even mentioning the heap of fan content of the two! Amazing! Wonderful! I was so close to being normal-

While i would say i dislike Ayakane, I don't say this in a "I hate this is fuckin awful" way, just the literal lack of liking for the pairing, you know? Like i can see why it's so popular but i just don't feel anything about it and can't bring myself to enjoy it further than "this has Ayame on it" which is,, quite literally the one reason I have handful of Ayakane art saved from before twitter was kicked out of brazil and read a couple fics of them a while back. Ayame is a pretty unpopular character and unfortunately a good chunk of content that involves her is Ayakane stuff, which bothers me a little since it shows how a heap of the fandom really only thinks of her in relation to Akane and not Ayame herself, but it's still content that I'll consume anyway even if I don't fully enjoy it.

So while i may sound mean towards the ship sometimes, take that as me just joking around with a slight fear to whatever nonsense I'm writing because while the Dra fandom has chilled a lot since the early days i still somewhat fear that some part of the Ayakane crowd may chase me with torches and pitchforks out of seeing how a few mutuals and friends of mine used to get straight up harrased for liking unpopular ships back then, let alone one that goes agaisnt one of the fandom's most popular ones haha-

It's the whole reason i never actually made any straight up Hatamori art back when i was younger, i just resorted to making silly lil sprite shitposts of the two and having them interacting in my old Aus. I'm happy that I don't really care as much now and can actually bring myself to draw them, i think 15 year old me would go crazy knowing i drew them kissing in the mouth.

[folkloristico]

8, 20, 23 and 29 for the writing asks

Thank you for the ask!

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a WIP. 

I’m not sure if this refers to a written spoiler or a snippet spoiler…?

I’ll just go with the first one. From my Andros WIP (that might or might not be incorporated into my Domino/CoL prequel): Tritannus is not Nereus’ twin, and he’s actually from the same timeline as Daphne (they’re the same age; Politea as well), but because of some circumstances, he’s just a few years older than Aisha and the other Winx in my post-SotLK reimagination. In a way, what happens to him is similar to what happens to Daphne, though due to different reasons.

20. Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics? 

Canon is my playground: canon-compliant if I’m satisfied; canon-divergent if I’m not, or if I want to try something new just because I think it would be fun. I have toyed with AUs every so often, but it only happens when I’m more interested in the dynamics between the characters than the plot itself. But seen as said dynamics depend on the plot and setting, it can be tricky. I prefer to draw AUs rather than writing them because this way I don’t have to think about plot or pacing, it’s just characters vibing. It can be done in a written piece as well, but I’m not really good at it. I get bored pretty easily if I don’t have a clear plan in mind. 

Take the Hogwarts!AU, for instance. I’ve written a bunch of them, and everytime it’s just the characters chilling. While I had fun writing those, I don’t really think of them as my best works. I’m also kind of a perfectionist and I fear I would be doing too much world-building for a more ‘serious’ AU, and I would likely never get to the writing phase. Kudos to those who can write thoroughly flashed AUs, seriously.

23. Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest?

For me, that depends on the fic. My writing process is never quite the same, and I always start from whatever scene comes to my mind first. My main current WIP for Winx started from the very end, and I progressively made my way backwards—maybe too much. Another WIP of mine, not Winx related, started right at the beginning, and I’m kind of struggling with the end right now. Yet another one has a huge chunk from the middle missing because I was like, “I will figure this out later,” and… I haven’t. As a non-chronological writer, the easiest part is whichever comes first; conversely, the hardest is the one that comes last.

29. What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

I never thought it would come a day when I would say this, but—descriptions. Borrowing from canon as I do, I’d realised I’d become somewhat lazy with my setting. In this regard, writing for Winx has helped me a lot because it was the first time I explored so many different places—though my main focus remains on Domino, Andros, the schools on Magix, and sometimes the Fortress of Light. Might also have to do with the fact that I picture those places somewhat different from canon, and so I want the reader to see them as I do. The palace on Domino, specifically, is completely different in my imagination. Whether I’m writing CoL or the Dominian family—I’m not sure there’s even a distinction there at this point—my main setting is almost always the palace, and I really want the reader to get that vibe I’m going for. 

[thekrows-nest]

Did I get even close with any of my fic guesses? Mantras, trying to appeal to his humanity, trying to find something that would fill his hunger up or placate him, show kindness, do funeral rites...

Are the weaknesses in any way related to canon Krow? ...They're not anything feral or gross are they 😵‍💫

(Also you're kinda right about the English accent of the time... I think I already may have known this, and of course accents have always varied by region in each country, but checked it out again and there are articles saying that the antiquated British accent may have been - somewhat - preserved by modern Americans. https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20180207-how-americans-preserved-british-english

If this AU is still set in America this actually may explain why Vamp!Krow is so aggressive and may have maddened faster!)

Trying to appeal to his humanity is definitely one. With the mantra's (and this ties a bit into the next question) they're specific ones that very much tie in with canon Krow lore that... hasn't actually been revealed yet zndsfbvzfd I very much like the idea of chanting mantra's that is asking for mercy and compassion for Krow though. Honestly all the various ways you showed in the fic to placate him are super cool. Might have to put those into the canon for vampire Krow.

Noooooo. No no nothing feral or gross. Lmao.

Yeeee I think I read a similar article (or was it a youtube video?) Anyway part of the reason I wondered was cause of another OC of mine and how they would sound lol.

It's not outside the realm of possibility that Krow traveled to America, possibly to find a way to cure or even ease his condition. Land of opportunity and all. And while it is a huge melting pot of culture, encountering folks that are descended from the British... probably did drive him crazy faster.

Really though, the main culprit for his insanity is the vampiric condition. The constant hunger, having to feast off of people to live, surviving through the centuries, through things and events that should kill him if he were mortal but do not (like, well, not having a heart and your whole chest cavity exposed).

Small Winn rant; it drives me crazy to see vampire characters that are centuries or even thousands of years old and they still have collective reasoning and are not absolutely batshit insane. Again, all the things that a vampire must do to survive, to endure, there's no way most people could handle it. Most people fall into despair under normal horrific conditions of whatever sort. To have some sort of supernatural curse on top of that I think would completely devastate most people. If vampirism is supposed to be a curse, it should be shown as such dammit. ]:<