#-looking nook and cranny i liked her :( what's this scour the scene line

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

got impatient and skipped past half of turnabout ablaze into aai2, and why does kay speak like a completely different character now

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 43: Into the Mines Pt. 3

FLOOR 110. 

“Excellent.”

Abigail hopped down the last few rungs, and dusted off her blood and dirt-caked hands with a new surge of energy. “Just what I was hoping for. Was scared the pattern wouldn’t hold—it’s a clear floor ever 10 floors. We should be safe here. Take a, uhh, bit of a break, eh? Now let’s get those sandwiches!” 

He had to admire her optimistic attitude. 

Sandwiches from Pierre’s, some protein bars, some bananas. It was remarkable how quickly exhaustion could melt away with a full belly. Breakfast had felt like hours ago. 

It had, actually, been several hours ago. Six hours, in fact. Checking Alex’s watch—how light it felt on his wrist—it was a few hours before noon. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been doing this all year,” Achilles said, pouring some water into a small bowl for Voltaire. “100 fucking floors… all by yourself… Ow!” He had accidentally scratched a cut on his forearm, causing it to well with a fresh line of blood. “Shit, that hurt.” 

“Aw, poor wittle baby!” Abigail pranced over to take a closer look at the wound. “Want me to kiss it? Make it feel all better, Baby McBaby face?” 

“Ha ha, very funny… my grandma used to say that to us all the time. Well. Not the Baby McBaby face part…” Achilles dribbled his water over his arm. Hmm. Likely wouldn’t need a bandage. Abigail on the other hand… “No, but seriously. I don’t know how you’ve been doing it, it’s remarkable.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” Abigail said with a small bow from her seat on a flat rock. But her blue eyes darkened. “Let me tell you though… these past 5 floors… they’re worse. They were way, way worse… I haven’t ever seen this many spirits on one floor…” 

“Think that means we’re close?” 

“It better mean we’re close. Shit!” Abigail sighed, setting a half-eaten bologna sandwich on the ground, and buried her head in her hands. “This is… this is kinda bad, Achilles. Maybe even… real bad.” 

“Should we head back?” 

“No!” She leapt from the rock and took an aggressive bite from her sandwich, pointing the second half at him. “We’re close. We are close. I can feel it.” 

Achilles shook his head, reaching into his backpack for some more gauze and antibiotics. He had escaped relatively unscathed so far, apart from those minor cuts. But Abigail, who had borne the brunt of the battle, was bleeding from a fresh wound on her forehead (just surface level, she insisted, though Achilles patched it up anyway). 

“Should probably take care of that burn…” Achilles poured his water, still cold in the canteen, over a compress and pressed it against her forearm. “Fuck, we should bandage that cut on your neck, too…” 

The more he looked at her, the more wounds he saw. Guilt began to stream through his veins, swirl among his stomach in nauseating loops. 

All your fault, too, really. Had to spend the whole time defending you, isn’t that right? 

And here you are. Fine. Totally fine. 

He shook his head, collapsing back onto the floor and grabbing a sandwich of his own.

Close your mind, bitch… 

But he was already so tired… 

Tired? Yeah? Imagine how Abigail must feel… 

Close your mind. 

Your name is Achilles Oleander Robinson. You’re 26 years old. Wait, no I’m 27 years old. Fuck, I’m almost 28 aren’t I… 

*****

FLOOR 111.

Down they went… 

The shadow spirits continued to be relentless—if anything, there were even more of them now, and Abigail and Achilles’ short respite on the floor above hadn’t been enough to bring either of them back to full strength. 

Even so, they powered on, Abigail striking and slicing, dodging and diving, as Achilles and Voltaire scoured the scene. Together, they scaled the mines’ jagged rocks, scrabbling amongst the nooks and crannies in desperate search for trap doors, all while doubt did some delving of its own… 

Why are you here? 

Who were you to even think that you could actually be useful? That you could be important? 

*****

FLOOR 112. 

It was now clear their break on the 110th floor hadn’t been nearly enough. Even the rope ladders were no longer a safe haven. Though the spirits were unable to fly, bats and snakes were now quick to strike the moment the trio stepped one foot on the rungs. 

Abigail was faltering, her swings wilder and sloppier, Achilles forced to stop his search multiple times to fend off spirits and monsters alike.

A sharp, blinding pain arced across his back—a shadow shaman behind him. 

Achilles staggered forward, nearly collapsing against an outcrop of iron ore. His hand reached for his shoulder, but from the corner of his eye—more shadow shamans. 

“Meow!” 

Voltaire gave him a quick nip, bringing him back to his senses, before racing towards Abigail. “Meow!” 

They turned from their respective fights and followed the cat—one stumbling foot after the other… 

“Achilles!” 

A piercing yelp—Abigail had fallen. Tripped, likely, from exhaustion or the uneven ground or both. One arm reaching out. Her ankle weak. Twisted, no doubt. 

Achilles sprinted back. The shadow spirits were only a few feet away. 

“Come on, come on, come on—”

A dry, rasp. A shadow shaman had neared—its razor sharp claws shooting out faster than his eyes could keep up to tightly grip Achilles’ throat. Raise him from the ground.

Deep laughter reverberated through the greenhouse walls within his head.  

With a screech, Abigail raised herself from the ground and plunged her sword into its chest. 

Achilles fell to the ground, but he wasn’t given a chance to even take a breath—Abigail had pulled him up. “Time to go, time to go!”Their uneven, half-dragging footsteps pounded against the ground. 

What will happen if she falls again? 

What will you do? 

What can you do? 

Voltaire—yes, the trapdoor—

It’s time to go, don’t you think? 

*****

FLOOR 113. 

The cavern was, mercifully, small. No larger than the town square, which made their harried, wasted search for a nonexistent trapdoor easier. 

They would have to clear the floor. 

They stood in the center of the space back to back, swords drawn, as spirits and monsters seethed, approaching with razor sharp claws and venomous fangs.

On they fought. Thick sprays of green monster blood mingling with the smoking streams of purple and black, the only residue that remained once spirits had been struck down. Abigail especially looked fearsome, the dirt and blood caking her boots mixing with the gore from the sludges and snakes she slayed, their corpses a pile two feet deep on the ground around them. 

It became almost meditative—the rhythm of the lunges, the parries, dodges and swipes. And yet, each twist and turn further ripped the throbbing wound below his shoulders. Beads of blood dripped down his back, running side by side with sweat. 

Uncountable minutes passed, perhaps even hours, it was hard to tell tell time these days, for Achilles had nary a second to spare to even glance at Alex’s watch. 

Lunge. Parry. Jab. Duck. Over and over again, the muscles in his body joining the voices outside his mind in their screams. But finally—when Achilles felt like he could scarcely raise his arms another inch, that unsettling chord of chimes rang through the cavern, and to their right, a trapdoor emerged from the ground. 

He collapsed atop a rock smeared in the gooey remains of a red sludge. Abigail was quick to follow, awkwardly kicking aside the tangled masses of dead bats and lava crabs to sit on the ground, her head resting back against the rock beside Achilles’ leg. 

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson. I’m 27 years old. I live in Stardew Valley. I was born in Monstera. I have five cousins. Camille. Chloe. Elise. Nick. Benji. I have a cat. 

Words that had been ringing in his head nonstop during his fight with the spirits—like a chant, a mantra pulsing steadily, as if on autopilot, within the greenhouse of his mind. Like a heartbeat. Or maybe more like a headache. Yoba, a headache of his own making… 

How long can this last?

How long can you last?

With a groan, he buried his face in his left hand, while the fingers of his right just barely clung to the gunmetal hilt of his sword. 

“We should go, Abby.”  

“Just one more minute—”

“—no. I mean… we should go back up.” 

“What? Like… give up?” 

The sword slipped through Achilles’ fingers and clattered to the floor, the sound echoing among the gloomy tomb. He left it there. It hurt too much to bend. 

“Not give up, just… maybe come back. Tomorrow.” With a ragged fingernail, he weakly scraped dried blood from the face of Alex’s watch. “We’ve been out here nearly 14 hours—”

Abigail shook her head slowly, her neck sore and strained. “No.” 

“Abigail…” 

“No, Achilles.” 

“Abby, there’s two days left, we can regroup—”

“There’s no time to regroup! It’s only going to get worse the closer we get to Spirit’s Eve— more monsters. Even more spirits.

“But we can rest—”

“Achilles, there’s no time. But… but if you want to go back, fine. Go.” 

Hmm.

There was an idea. 

Nausea immediately swept his stomach—selfish. Selfish. 

He shook his head in an attempt to clear the thought. “Abigail, I’m not going to leave—” 

“I said no.” With neither a groan nor a grimace, she stood firmly to her feet. “I’m not going to just give up, Achilles. I’m close. I know I’m close, I can feel it—and I’m not just going to give up now.”

She stalked slowly towards the trapdoor. Voltaire followed her to the edge of the hall where he sat and licked a sludge-stained paw, gazing at Achilles expectantly. 

“I’ve spent this whole year fighting my way down the mines without you.” Her voice rang clear, though her back was turned from him. “If you want to go, go. But I’m staying.” 

Leave her. 

Again, his stomach fought his mind, twisting sharply with a deep set shame that his brain seemed unable to acknowledge.

“No.”

Abigail was strong, but Achilles was still naturally stronger, not to mention over half a foot taller. She was a tiny girl. He swept her from behind, holding her scrambling form against his chest. “We’ll come back tomorrow, I promise—”

Sure, you promise… don’t lie to yourself. 

Abigail fought back, even going so far as to try to jab him with her sword, but her position was awkward, and Achilles managed to wrestle the blade from her grip. 

“Achilles,” she cried. “We can’t do this. We have to finish this, we have to finish this now.” 

She slipped herself out below from his grasp and collapsed onto the crimson soil. Tears flooded the dried smears of blood on her cheeks. 

“You don’t understand. We’re so close. I can feel it. And if we leave… we’re going to miss our chance. We can’t start over, we can’t afford to wait another day, let alone another year. Everybody knows about our mission. I can’t fail, people are going to think I’m a coward, that I couldn’t handle it—” 

“Abby that’s— what? No. No one is going to think less of you—people already think you’re brave—”

The glory. The pride—so was this what it was all about then? Failure. How emerging from the mines, their sole task unfinished, would reflect on one so desperate to be seen as something more than ordinary. 

At this realization, he paused.  

Well, well, well. Just looking in a mirror, isn’t it. 

But surely… surely he wasn’t this insane; he would never be so determined to do something so high-risk, so incredibly high-stakes, just for others’ approval. Even his pride had its limit.

Well maybe that’s why you’re a failure. Maybe you’ve always played it too safe…

Recognizing the surrender in his face, Abigail reached for her sword, still in Achilles’ hand.

Her fingertips, callused as they were, felt soft against his fingers. She leaned into his chest, though for emotional or physical support, Achilles wasn’t quite sure. “Please. If it— if it gets bad, we can go. I promise. But right now—I can still fight. I can still do this.”

She stared determinedly into his eyes, her hands vice like around his arms, as unshakable as her resolve. 

Voltaire eyed them from the edge of the trap door as they slowly made their way over. The cat, eager as ever, was the first to jump down, followed closely by Abigail.  

Achilles paused briefly at the top of the ladder, taking a second to roll his shoulders back—a move that once again split open the gash the shadow shaman had dealt him on the floor above. 

He bit the inside of his cheek—didn’t need Abigail hearing him cry out, not when she was probably pushing aside the pain of a thousand of these sort of cuts…

Come, let’s go, let’s go… Yoba, what was he doing… 

You’re making a big mistake. 

[cacowhistle]

What are your favorite poetry type lines from ad aspera? Like that you feel stand on their own and really capture the feeling of the series. 🐛

ooo... ok im just kinda goin thru the fics and looking bc i dont remember but god. “I want to go, he thinks to himself now, standing on the precipice of his epilogue.” from warmth from any other source. “precipice of his epilogue” is just such a sexy line and it’s one i’ve echoed throughout the series.

goin under the cut now bc i will go on about my writing ahgmfdgnmfdn

this one isnt really poetic but it stands out to me and holds a lot of personal meaning: 

“It should be some sort of grand, fucked up revelation. It should change his world. It should be a groundbreaking realization, something that changes how he views himself. He squints out at the lava.

That’s fucked up, he thinks, and the world goes on.”

AND THEN in welcome home, theseus when i bring back the precipice line, “Or it means he’s staring into the explosions again, watching L’manburg burn, watching Wilbur burn and bleed out on the precipice of glory.”

also in welcome home, theseus, the little scene with tommy and ranboo where ranboo asks if he still wants to die and tommy admits that yeah, that doesn’t just go away... every line of that scene, i still adore to this day.

honestly, the first three ad astra per aspera fics are my favorites, along with the little spinoff about sally and i’ll raise my head singing. those all just. i loved every scene i wrote in those fics.

agnus dei, the third fic in the series, it just. every line in that fucks imo. i’m so proud of that piece. it’s one of the longest ones and it just. it goes so HARD everything about techno and caedis is so good.

this bit here especially:

“Something writhes in the lowest depths of the Nether, in the coldest blazes of Hell. Something dark and sinister rears her head for the first time, bitterness and fear and anger on her tongue. She scores her claws like Cain casts the first stone, and there is blood. And it is divine, and holy, and everything to her.

Something twists and screams and howls for more, she is not satisfied by these first droplets. Something scours the land and uproots the peace, setting the world ablaze with her lust for blood.

She is the ugliest parts of survival. She is a horrid, wretched, necessary thing, the daughter of the hunt and the essence of the rule of beasts. She is queen of her ruined homeland, stalks every last nook and cranny with a thirst for blood that is unrivaled by any living thing. She is fury and horror and a sick sort of beauty, a macabre majesticness that is unparalleled by anything in these worlds. She is divine, she is unholy in her holiness.

Caedis tastes blood, and it is never enough.”

like that just SLAPS i went OFF with that one

THEN THE SCENE WHERE TECHNO PLAYS VIOLIN... im still in love w that scene it was such a sweet ending to that piece

this line from it also fucks: “There is a drumming in the back of his mind, a rustling murmur and the steady beat of his heartbeat, almost reminiscent of music. A familiar rhythm that Technoblade leans into, embraces the melody of malevolence.”

honestly i just. i love writing so goddamn much and every single line i write i try to make sure i’m pleased with it. and if im not pleased with it, i try to convince myself to like it anyways. more often than not, i come around to it!!

i think the bit that sums up the series the most is these lines from i’ll raise my head singing, where i did the title drop for the series:

There is a saying that Techno remembers, faintly, an old prayer to the gods that is supposed to lead one to safety. It’s a promise of rest and reconciliation after a long, arduous journey. It’s a wish, sent to the stars in the hopes that the gods will grant one their favor, just for a little while, to give them a bit of peace.

Staring up at the anvil dangling above him, as Quackity prattles on to a small crowd about his “crimes,” Techno opens his mouth, glimpsing the beginnings of stars in the darkening sky.

“Ad astra per aspera,” he murmurs. To the stars, through difficulties.

aaand thats all i can think of :0

[darkmagic-sweetheart]

My AHWM Yancy Theory: A Truth About Love~!

Disclaimer: 

This post will contain spoilers on A Heist with Markiplier

This is a headcanon theory so please do not think I am stating any of this as fact

    I was able to complete AHWM on the first day it came out in about 4 to 5 hours. I wrote down every ending and posted about all of them as I went on Twitter. A week later Mark and Amy had their stream on Youtube talking about the behind the scenes and process of making the videos. I was able to watch almost all of it, I probably only missed around 20 minutes all together. So this is the kind of information I am working with as I write this down. 

   Now the theory I am proposing today is that Yancy actually becomes Illinois and Captain Magnum through paradoxical time shifts based on the similarities between them and how Mark has formed his previous characters in other works. 

   It all begins with the Scientist ending that is the canonical ending to AHWM. In this ending you receive the end credits and behind the scenes snippets. The Scientist, during her time on screen, explain that there is some type of anomaly out there causing all of these strange things to happen. These strange things include paranormal/supernatural phenomena, events overlapping, repeating, and skipping, and overall time manipulation. Taking the paranormal phenomenon out for a moment, let’s focus on the elements related to time. If say that no matter what time line you go through this artifact you have stolen, despite it’s content, could still be causing a temporal paradox as you are the one carrying it around. If so, my theory could totally be happening. 

   In Mark’s stream on the filming production he mentions how the first day was the jail house, so Yancy was the first character besides Mark himself he focused on (not yet called Yancy though). We could also see this as the secondary timeline a player should go through when diverging from the true ending. Now Yancy as a character is a showman, he is playing a game of pretend in an environment he feels comfortable in. As seen through his tough guy act even though he’s from Ohio. He admits that he has killed his parents, he has killed people he loved, and in one ending he even kills his fellow inmate (who he cares for) to stay in jain in order to remain inside this constructed delusion. So love is a big part of Yancy’s character and it’s actually apart of the other two as well.

  While interacting with the character Illinois he mentions two key things, one of them being that all those who fall in love with him tragically die. Now this is obviously a reference to a popular film series we probably all now about, but what if they don’t actually die in these so called tragic ways? What if, Illinois is Yancy years in the future where he actually falls in love with you, decides to escape prison, and make up for his crimes by doing some good in the world? Yancy is able to find all the nooks and crannies of a location and you have experience in stealth, together you go all over the world looking for treasures to share with the world. Obviously, he’ll have to change his name since he escaped so why not go with another Midwestern state to stay true to home. 

   Yet, tragedy really does strike and you die somehow and Yancy, who is now Illinois, breaks down in grief. He no longer has the jail , a comfortable and familiar place,  or you to cling to. You were still his connection back to that lifestyle of routine and control. Now, there is no control so he has to make it all over again as Illinois. Back to that first key point about how all his love interests die tragically, what if it’s all a fantasy? What if he has gone back to his old ways of killing those he loves? Illinois is actually killing all his lovers in a similar manner to how you died in order to keep this new delusion stable and concise. You don’t die; however, because you never actually did fall for him like you did with Yancy in another timeline. 

   Now what about that second key thing Illinois mentions, well that deals with Illinois’s love for treasure and adventure. It’s time to talk about how Illinois, once Yancy, becomes Captain Magnum! Illinois at this time is a serial killer that has now scoured the Earth, but he can’t keep it up forever. One day that boulder that follows him everywhere (probably possessed by all the lovers he killed) finally catches up to him and takes away his feet. This breaks him down even further into his own delusions as he can no longer go exploring the way he used to. He has to find another way to reconnect with you and now sees treasure as a means to do so. Killing lovers like you is no longer an option, but collecting treasures is. Illinois, now without feet, has to wear large log peg-legs to maintain his balance. decides that the best way to collect large amounts of treasure is to become a pirate. Thus, going back into his criminal roots. 

    However, this time he works to make no human connections and finds it easy to toss away his crew or neglect them. You can see his uncaring and awkward expression as his first mate cries and prays for his fallen friends.  Additionally, Yancy is a showman at heart so he decides to create an eccentric character like Captain Magnum in order to appear dominant and in control. As the leader he can maintain his delusion himself unlike in the jail when the warden dictated his life or with his solitude and grief as Illinois. Yancy has always had a problem with authority, but now he is the authority. You could also say Captain Magnum is Yancy/Illinois’s magnum opus of a character and the final character. 

   In another timeline you do end up meeting Captain Magnum and as well takes a shine to you as Yancy and Illinois did (at least over time). If you pick the right path you end up as part of his crew and you can see the Captain start to develop some kind of feelings for you, but more as a parent since he is older at this time. He trusts you enough to pick which island to go explore next for more treasure and as you end up on the Island of Golden Treasure (a choice the Captain agrees with) you are sacrificed for his beloved treasure. Yet another person he loves killed by his hands. 

   This is the story I’ve put together around my theory/ headcanon. I’d love to know if the first character besides himself that Mark came up with was actually Prison Mark, because that would be amazing!

      Either way I think the way Mark writes and develops these characters follows a pattern of looping. The idea that each character influences the other and that eventually a loop will be created. This can be seen in all of his fleshed out characters! Damien and Celine in a loop of revenge, the Colonel aka Warfstache in a loop with madness, Warfstache and the Detective in a loop of vengeance, the Colonel, Celine, and Damien in a loop of tragedy, etc. Mark’s characters become other characters, but at the same time retain parts of who they used to be. 

   So it’s not strange for this idea to be unintentionally true. I’m not saying it is, but it’s kind of interesting to notice. Nonetheless, I had a good time writing this theory and I hope it blows your minds even a little bit!

  Thank you!

P.S. @markiplier is going to hate this.