#I have started dozens of stuff that never goes anywhere

[sylkiddsey]

Proving A Point

Sylvie fixes Matt a drink and joins him in the living room. Julia’s been going through a sleep regression, and they have both realized they aren’t falling asleep anytime soon. Instead of struggling to get her to sleep, they’ve decided to let her stay up.

It’s easier and this way, they can spend extra time together. The boys are both staying with friends, so they like to take advantage of the quiet.

“She’s out,” Matt whispers.

The problem is, she fell asleep in her swing chair. They both know if they move her, she’ll wake up screaming.

“At least she’s finally sleeping,” Sylvie replies, sitting on the couch. “We’ll just keep her there for now.”

Matt climbs off the floor and joins her. He grabs her legs and swings them into his lap, massaging her calf. “I think that’s wise.”

Sylvie cuddles into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I miss this.”

“Staying up till three in the morning?”

She chuckles. “No. Not that. You and me. You know, just us together without any distractions.”

Matt kisses her. “Me too. Now that we have all this down time, I’ve been meaning to ask how the new candidate has been?”

Sylvie grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. “He’s great. He seems really nice and he’s also freakishly strong.”

“What do you mean freakishly strong?” Matt asks.

“The guy is very muscular, Matt. He’s jacked. He practically lifted a car on his own,” Sylvie explains.

It was super impressive. The new guy, Denny, isn’t even in his thirties yet and he’s already ripped. She didn’t know a human could be that strong.

Matt scrunches his face. “You sound so surprised a firefighter could be so muscular.”

“Trust me, you’d see where I’m coming from if you met him. He bench pressed my partner at the station like it was nothing. He did like fifty reps, Matt.”

Denny offered to lift her, but she politely declined. It felt too awkward when she barely knows the guy.

Matt squeezes her thigh, grazing his fingers against the skin exposed from her night shorts riding up. “Should I be worried you’re so impressed with this guy?”

Sylvie nudges him. “Oh come on, baby. You know it wasn’t like that. I just didn’t know a human could do that so easily. That’s all.”

“Okay, I’m starting to take offense here,” he chuckles. “May I remind you that your husband happens to be a pretty capable firefighter?”

He’s such a dork. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him until she needs air.

She brushes her nose against his. “You definitely don’t. I know just how capable you are. Denny’s just younger. He probably has more stamina.”

Matt scoffs against her lips. “Hang on. First, you're talking about how jacked this guy is and now I’m old? Yes, I’m probably quite a few years older but I’m not ancient.”

Sylvie can’t help but laugh at the genuine offense on his face. She didn’t mean it like that.

“I never said you were,” she says. “Matt, I’m just saying that Denny is in his twenties. He has youth on his side but you’re not old. Not old at all.”

“You honestly believe I can’t do what he did, can you?” He asks.

Sylvie doesn’t say anything. Matt’s very strong. She knows that but he’s also a bit older than the candidate. It doesn’t make him inferior, just a little bit at a disadvantage.

Matt moves her legs off his lap.

“Hey, where are you going?” Sylvie asks, slightly panicked. She thought they were just playing around but maybe he’s genuinely upset? “Matt, please.”

He stands and holds out his hand. “I’m proving to my wife that I’m not a washed-up firefighter.”

“I never ever said you were.”

He flexes his fingers. “Stand up, babe.”

She grabs his hand and lets him haul her to her feet. “Matt, you don’t have to do this. I think you are incredible. This is silly.”

“I need to get that other firefighter out of that ridiculously beautiful head of yours.”

“He is not in my head. Trust me, you are the only man on my mind. There’s no reason to get jealous.”

He gives her a look and then sits down on the rug. “This isn’t about jealousy, Sylvie.”

It sure looks like it. She has no clue what he is trying to prove from the floor.

Matt grabs her hand and tugs her down with him. She gasps in surprise when she lands on his chest.

“What on earth are you doing?” Sylvie laughs, trying to keep her voice down. “Is this what sleep deprivation does to you?”

“I’m proving a point,” Matt grins. “Lay flat.”

“I’d rather lay like this,” Sylvie charms, hovering her lips over his. “We could make out like teens on the living room floor.”

“Yes, to that but we’re doing my thing first. I’m benching you. Stay still.”

Before she can process, Matt has one hand under her breasts and the other on her thigh. He pushes her into the air which leaves her giggling. She goes up and then back down against his chest.

“You are crazy,” she laughs. “And your grip on my thigh tickles.”

“Still thinking about the candidate?” Matt teases, pushing her above his head.

“I was never thinking about him, but I am impressed.”

“I might push around a lot of paperwork these days, but I still have a few moves.”

Yeah, she’d agree. Although she never once thought he was losing his skill.

“Will you put me down?” She chuckles.

“Not until I out do that amateur.”

“Baby, I can’t make out with you and prove to you how impressed I am from the air. Put me down so I can kiss my hot firefighter husband.”

He lowers her onto his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “That’s more like it.”

“You know I love you.”

He nods. “Yes, I do. It just doesn’t hurt to remind you that I’m not that old.”

Sylvie kisses him, moving her lips to his neck. “I have never thought that. You look as good as you did the day I met you.”

“Okay, now you’re definitely sweet talking me.”

“Okay fine. That’s not true.” She skims her fingers through his hair. “You actually look better. I’ve always been a huge fan of distinguished Captain Matt Casey.”

He smirks. “Is that so?”

“Yep.”

He runs his hand down her back, resting it on her ass. “I happen to really love PIC/hot mom Sylvie, so I guess we are on the same page.”

He knows how she feels about his hand placement. He’s starting something they probably won’t finish.

“How long do you think we can make out before our sweet daughter ruins the fun?” Sylvie asks.

“Probably five minutes if we are lucky.”

She pulls him closer, mumbling against his mouth. “Oh well. I’ll take it.”

[theeeveetamer]

Fields of Mistria initial thoughts

As you may or may not know I am a total sucker for farming simulator games. I don't usually go for Early Access games, but Fields of Mistria seemed extremely promising even though it's just launched into Early Access. So I want to talk about a few of the things I really like about it (and maybe a few that I don't). I will probably be drawing comparisons to Stardew Valley since it's the current preeminent Farming Sim of our time (but I'm not dissing it I love Stardew Valley as well. I think Fields of Mistria does a good job of taking what worked about Stardew and tweaking some things to improve even further)

But the tl;dr if you want it: I think this game is worth the money even in its current state

Trying to keep things as spoiler-free as possible, not that it's hard since the story isn't really too far yet in early access

Things that I like:

1 There is a wide range of cosmetics! Also, you don't have to store them anywhere. You "unlock" them, and then you can change your clothes, hair, skin tone, etc. at any time from the character customization menu. I'd have to check because I don't have the game right in front of me atm, but I think you can even change your name and the name of your farm at any time as well?

2) You don't actually need to have materials on hand to construct farm buildings, nor do you need to pre-clear the space! You buy the blueprint from the carpenter shop, which goes to your inventory. You take it back to your farm yourself and lay it down. Once you lay it down it spawns a drop box for materials, and you can put the materials in at your own pace. This makes it super easy to just drop a couple of wood in at the end of every day until it's done. This is a godsend for me especially, since I never remember to bring all the materials with me when I want to build things in Stardew

3) Speaking of convenience: you don't need to have any materials on hand when you're crafting! This is a godsend because when you initially start the game, all the crafting stations are in town and you have like no bag space. It'll just automatically withdraw things from your chest

The downside is, if you were trying to save stuff you have to be careful (the game will indicate when it starts drawing from your chests to craft the next item though, which is nice!)

4) Also speaking of convenience: shops are open and unlocked 24/7, and you don't have to have someone working there to buy things! This means if you realize you forgot to re-plant your crops at 10 pm you can still pop up to the general store to buy more seeds before the day is done

5) The romance events are all interesting and done well so far! I've only seen a couple though. It also appears that triggering them is based on completing a request on the community board, so you can't miss them like you might in Stardew

The downside is that there's so many community board quests that it's easy for these to get buried. I'm sure I've picked up half a dozen that I just haven't done yet because I haven't gotten around to knocking out some of these requests

6) I like that progressing in the mines requires you to collect items from the previous set of floors in the mines. It's good incentive to go back and collect more resources while still feeling like you're advancing

7) Dropping stuff on the ground and leaving it there won't de-spawn it. That means you can go around and "collect" resources, leave them there, and then circle back in a few hours or even a few days!

8) There's at least one older bachelor and bachelorette option! For the guys you have fellow farmer Hayden (who has a bit of a dad bod build) and the town's doctor Valen (she's a bit more masc looking). I'll take it

9) You can bang a dragon. They haven't completed the story enough to get events with him yet in Early Access, but he's a dragon. nuff said

10) You don't have to upgrade your tools in sequence, and equipment is separate from your cosmetics. This means you can skip straight from the worn pickaxe to the silver one!

Things I don't like (honestly most of these are minor nitpicks that can/might be improved upon):

1 I do wish there was some more body diversity, especially among the women. With the exception of Hayden pretty much all the romance options are pretty/handsome and slender (with pretty decently sized chests in the case of the women and pretty decently sized muscles in the case of the men)

I know they can design different body types because one of the Saturday Market vendors is a bit bigger (but she's not a romance option obviously), so why not?

2) Pretty much every item sells for less than it would if you were to craft it into something else. E.g. Iron ore sells for less than iron bars, and iron bars sell for less than an iron pickaxe

This is kind of half positive, half negative. It's good incentive to craft stuff! On the other hand, I'm a massive video-game hoarder so if I know I might be able to craft something that's worth more down the line I'll just save the item. This has turned my organization into a nightmare, and because I sell almost nothing money is much harder to come by

3) Backpack and storage management is. Woof. You start out with only ten item slots, and if you're like me and you carry all your tools all the time then that's going to fill up fast. At the start you'll only have ~2 slots to actually carry things other than tools. I think it only goes up in increments of 10 too, so even with the third bag upgrade you have about 30 slots (for reference, Stardew starts you with 12 and goes up in increments of 12 before capping out at 36)

I don't think this would be a problem if they just gave you a separate "tool bag" inventory where you could keep all your tools all the time, that didn't also take up bag space. Tools taking up bag space is honestly one of those "we should be over this by now" things in farming sims, IMO

4) Speaking of the bag... this is probably only a consideration if you play on controller, but the controls for swapping between items could use some work

If you've played Stardew with a controller then you know how it works. The left and right bumpers will swap between bag "tabs" and the triggers will move you between items in the currently selected tab. I haven't played around with trying to remap it, but by default Mistria doesn't do this.

Instead one of the triggers is to use a magic spell, the other is to throw items, and the bumpers are to swap between items in your bag. This means if you're on tab "A" and you need an item in tab "C" you need to manually press the bumper 10+ times until it scrolls aaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the way around to tab "C"

I think if you play with keyboard and mouse then you can just tap the different tabs so it's less of a problem

5) Minor nitpick, but when I play with a controller it doesn't get rid of the cursor. The cursor is pretty big and chunky so this is pretty distracting (I play on a dual monitor setup so I just move the mouse to the other monitor while I play, but it'd be nice if the cursor stayed gone while I played

6) So far the magic is a bit underutilized. I think I've only used the restore spell a handful of times when I was deep in the mines or fishing (fishing takes SO much energy). You have VERY limited magical stamina so you're probably not going to be using spells too much

I'll try to add to this if I think of more, but this is the stuff that's sticking out to me right now!

[whchenlvr]

hi!! so english is not my first language so idk if i'm writing it right, can i request a eunjang + union boys reacting to reader having a panic attack?

when you’re having a panic attack ;

weak hero x gn!reader

gray yeon

➤ you’d never had a panic attack. he has

➤ when your breathing picks up to the point where you’re hyperventilating, panicked tears begin to stream down your face

➤ gray was supposed to meet you at your house to study at 3, and you watch in agony as the clock ticks to 6. he was never late, and you wouldn’t have worried so much if not for your friend spam-texting you that the union is coming for your school

➤ there’s a knock on your door, but you’re limbs feeling like they’re prickling with sleep. you can’t stand from your spot on the floor no matter how hard you try

➤ thankfully for you, gray knows your lock code

➤ your vision is dotted with black spots, and when gray appears before you, part of you thinks he’s a hallucination

➤ “c-can’t.. breathe…” you manage to choke out, desperation clear in your voice

➤ “okay, sweetheart, it’s okay now. i’m here. you’re going to be okay.” he says in an extremely calm voice, carefully patting your hair down in an attempt to soothe you

➤ it works, and you can feel your pulse calming beneath your skin. you breathe, focusing solely on the feeling of his hand in your hair

➤ “i’ll stay with you tonight, okay? i’m not going anywhere.”

donald na

➤ you’d just gotten off the phone with your neighbor, and they told you that the mailman left your gate open, and your dog got loose

➤ you started to panic immediately, knowing your dog was still young and liked to slip out of his collar. sure enough, you found the fabric on the floor when returning home

➤ you searched until it was dark out, and then you searched some more. everyone you asked said they hadn't seen him, and your anxiety was reaching an all-time high

➤ after the failed search, you had enough sense to make your way to donald's apartment, hoping he might be able to help

➤ donald opened his arms for you the minute he saw your shaking self, and tried to soothe you as your tears stained his shirt

➤ “can you take a breath with me? that’s good, darling.”

➤ it took some more time in his arms for you to calm down enough to speak, and when you told him what happened, donald flashed you an assuring smile

➤ "my guys have gotten lazy. i'm sure they'll appreciate a good game of hide and seek."

➤ sure enough, your dog was returned to you, and you nearly cried with joy as donald hugged you again. "don't hesitate to come to my first next time, alright?"

ben park

➤ when ben finds you curled up in the school bathroom one evening, hunched in on yourself and struggling to breathe, his mind instantly goes to the worst scenarios

➤ he would cup your face in his hands and force you to keep your eyes on him as he breaths with you

➤ “when you’re ready, i want you to tell me what happened.”

➤ once you managed to catch your breath, you told ben all about how you failed a test and dropped nearly a dozen ranks. it shouldn’t have been a huge deal, but this could cost you your chance at a scholarship

➤ you could tell ben was trying to come up with comforting words, but he didn’t care for school as much as you do, so he wasn’t sure what to say to comfort you

➤ “okay, uh, are there retakes available? extra credit?” “no” “then… i’ll help you study for the next one!”

➤ you found yourself smiling, surprised at how quickly ben managed to cheer you up

➤ “are you sure? i know how much you hate this stuff…”

➤ “yeah, but you need me. we will study until our fingers fall off and you’ll get your perfect score. so please don’t worry, okay? i love you.”

jake ji

➤ you never liked to appear weak in front of jake. it wasn’t that you were afraid, you just liked being his pillar. you didn’t want him to ever worry about you

➤ but when news broke about the war between the union and eunjang, you couldn't help it

➤ "jake?" you called, afraid to disturb him but very scared at how hard your heart was beating against your ribs. your stomach felt hollow and useless in your body

➤ he didn't look up, and you were about to leave when you accidentally knocked a bowl off of the counter. it shattered against the floor, and you dropped into a panicked crouch

➤ "don't move, are you o—" he saw your trembling hands and stopped. "y/n, are you okay?"

➤ "i'm sorry, i, it's just a bowl, i'm..." you didn't stop stuttering out nonsense until jake carefully took your hands in his before you accidentally hurt yourself

➤ "what's going on, lovely?" and you broke into sobs

➤ you fell forward into jake's chest and he wrapped his arms around you as you told him your concerns for his safety. "this isn't like the other fights, jake. you could get hurt. you could get killed."

➤ "that's not going to happen," he soothed gently, "you know that's not going to happen." but you didn't stop crying or trembling until you were out of the room and completely in your boyfriend's arms

➤ "y/n, listen. you're going to be fine. i'm going to be fine. so please, don't scare me like that again, okay? we're going to be fine."

gerard jin

➤ you’d just been told by your parents that you were moving across the country for your dad’s job

➤ since your bedroom is on the first floor, gerard has a habit of tapping on your window to visit. when you don’t answer your phone, he decides to go over

➤ he sees you sitting on your bed, back turned to him, and doesn’t think much of it until he hears your quiet sobs slipping between your fingers

➤ “y/n?” he called into the quiet, and you felt yourself break. “they’re taking me away from you, from everything! i can’t—i can’t—“

➤ gerard was by your side in seconds, taking you in his arms and pulling you tight against his chest

➤ “didn’t…” you gasped out, fingers digging into his biceps as you try to calm yourself. “didn’t.. wanna leave.. you,”

➤ “i know, honey, i know.” he kissed your head, letting his lips linger against your hair as you forced yourself to slow your sobs. “but i’m not going anywhere. not now, not ever.”

wolf keum

➤ there was no reason for you to panic, so you weren’t sure why you woke with your heart beating a million miles a second, your cheeks sticky with tears

➤ checking the time, you realized it was only 2 am. you didn’t want to disturb your boyfriend, but your limbs tingled as your breathing sped up

➤ not even five minutes after receiving your jumbled text for help, wolf was in your bedroom and at your side

➤ “what happened. who did this?”

➤ “no, i’m—“ you hit your chest with a flat hand, “panic attack.”

➤ honestly, wolf wasn’t quite sure what to do or how to treat a panic attack

➤ worried you might pass out, he squished your face between his hands to meet your eyes. “slow down.”

➤ you think just having him there with you helped, because the fact that his two rather blunt words were able to calm you surprised you both

➤ you were still shaky, but wolf didn’t make any attempt to smother you. he pulled his hands from your face to instead hold yours and laced your fingers together

➤ “better?” “better.”

[bonefall]

Snowbird Ann here: x_x I have Fennel growing in my front yard. That stuff...it tastes like black licorice and it's stringy like celery. But when it goes dormant, it leaves stalks that would be great building materials. Med cat/builders could get a fresh stalk, soak it in water to make it bendy and shape it into whatever. If I remember I'll go out and snap a picture of the dormant Fennel tomorrow.

Fennel is actually suuuuuuuuper useful for dozens of reasons. It's related to parsley and has been naturalized all over the world because humans find it so useful.

The cats could use it for:

-Funerals This herb can be STINKY. This could absolutely be one of the funeral herbs that elders rub onto the deceased, especially since it's non-toxic.

-Cooking It's full of fiber meaning it can be a good supplement even for cats, if not consumed in excess. It's also got potassium, manganese, calcium... They can't taste sweet but that licorice-y flavor would come across just fine. It's actually used in sausages a lot.

-Alcohol If your Warriors drink responsibly. And know how to distill. Mead made from honey would still be easier but fennel was used for health tonics in the middle ages... and then eventually got used to make absinthe.

-Insect repellent This one's actually huge because the OTHER big bad bug buster is mint... and all mint is toxic to cats. This is a really good non-toxic insect repellent for warriors next to lavender.

-"Toothpaste" Not like, a PASTE but, a sort of... sticky mouthwash poultice. Fennel's actually super good for oral health, eliminates bad breath, and fights plaque buildup; and remember, Our Friends Mint & Co is toxic to cats. You can make it into an oil and help a warrior with a gum problem. It's especially good at fighting streptococcus, which is one of the most common infectious bacteria in wild cats.

-General medicinal purposes Helping clean eye infections is just one medicinal use, fennel is useful for all sorts of ailments. It's anti-inflammatory, it's antibacterial (but not as good as honey), can help with digestion...

Historically it's also been associated with helping to treat colic in babies and estrogen-related issues like menopause and milk production, which is actually NOT proven with modern studies... but I think the idea is just cool enough to hand wave the science away, I would use it just to have an herb for colicky kits. It's weird that colic has never shown up in canonical kits before!

But...

Building use?

Probably not. You've noticed it's stringy-- that's actually where fennel gets its name. Fennel = Foenum = Latin for Hay. It's more like hay in consistency than twine and would be too soft to build with.

For strong material, you're just gonna want plain old wood. Twigs, branches, anywhere you can find fennel you're also going to find bushes or trees that'll make better beams.

For twine? Skip the fennel entirely with its short stalks and just get some tall grass. Or, if you've got long-haired cats, they can make yarn out of shed fur if they collect enough of it. Better yet, if you've got access to flax? Then you're REALLY cooking with fire, that bad boy can be made into fabric, rope, clothing... Don't even get me STARTED on industrial hemp, you could weave reality itself out of that popstar. Paper, clothes, canvas, shampoo, lamp oil, rope, bombs, you want it? It's YOURS my friend--

Anyway

TL;DR stick to the herbal uses for fennel. You're better letting dormant fennel re-grow because it's better in the paws of your medcats than your warriors.

[annabelle--cane]

I mentioned wanting to make a post like this a few weeks ago and then forgot, so have this absolute behemoth to make up for lost time: let's talk martin and defensive rejection of choice.

the short of it is that while martin obviously wants control and agency over his life, the first few times he makes big moves to actively take that control, they blow up in his face by either doing nothing or leading to something worse, and that makes him afraid of being responsible for doing anything wrong in the future. it doesn't quite scare him away from taking any control of his life at all, it's a bit more complicated than that, but much of his arc in s5 involves him progressing from trying to influence jon's decision making while rejecting any choice given directly to him to making three big choices in the last half dozen episodes that seal his (and everyone else's) fate.

the long of it is, uh. Long. without counting transcript exerpts this is about 1.3k, so if you want to hear my reasoning for saying the above you might wanna strap in.

for most of the first three seasons, we don't see martin making a lot of choices, he mainly just tries to keep things stable. he gets displaced from his flat? okay, cool, move into the archives and carry on like normal. the archives get attacked and everyone deteriorates afterwards? okay, cool, try and keep jon from burning himself out, listen to tim vent so he doesn't start running himself ragged either, don't shake things up too much by forcing anything. elias is a magic murderer and everyone's trapped? okay, cool, just read statements, keep an eye out for the others, keep everything together.

we can extrapolate where this tendency towards maintaining stability comes from; he's had a very precarious life where a lot of his options have been taken away by poverty and abuse, it's probably always been too dangerous for him to try and make big leaps to change his situations. this is in contrast to jon, whose gut reaction to most problems is to take the option that lets him (often literally) throw himself at it as soon as possible.

as a turning point in mag 117, we get martin talking about his plan to trick elias and get him arrested.

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be safe, like my plan’s not dangerous, but it’s, it’s mine. This last couple of years, I’ve always been running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but, but now it’s my trap, and, well, I think it’ll work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but it felt good, weaving my own little web.

[...]

Anyway, I guess I’m just sick of sitting on my hands drinking tea and hoping everyone’s okay. This way, I finally get to do something. It’s gonna hurt, but I’m ready. And I want to. Also, I get to burn some stuff, so that’s cool! I just really hope everyone makes it back.

he's sick of not being an active agent. maintaining stability hasn't gotten him anywhere, he knows how he wants things to change and how he can make it happen, and he's now willing to do it. it's a similar moment to one basira has in this same episode, she also talks about having previously been resigning herself to the situation and now being ready to push back against it, but where her arc continues on from this point of deciding to make choices to eventually being about what kind of choices she makes, martin's stalls a bit and never quite gets to that stage.

he goes through with his plan for elias, and it works without a hitch. it deals him quite a lot of hurt, but he planned for and expected that. elias goes right off to prison, sent down by the evidence martin and melanie stole.

and it doesn't do anything to help anyone.

tim, jon, and daisy die. one monster boss is replaced with a new monster boss. melanie gets more volatile. basira gets more paranoid. his mother dies. the archives get attacked. martin played his hand, got hurt in the process, and got absolutely nothing from it.

here we see another pattern starting to form. in mag 158, when he talks about why he joined with peter, he says that he told himself it was just to protect the others and didn't confront his real, personal motivations. in mag 154, he at first tries refusing jon by saying he wants to see through his plan with peter, but when jon presses it he switches to saying "I won't because you don't really mean it, this is a bluff so you have a reason to not do it and you wouldn't even if I agreed." here, martin starts taking decisions he wants to make, acting on them, and coming up with reasons for why it was never actually his choice to go with them, taking the responsibility for his choices off of himself and putting it on to others.

but we then get mag 158 and his big heel turn of rejecting peter's plan! and it works! and then the world ends as a direct result of that choice! luckily, we don't have to wonder how he felt about this, 'cause he talks about it directly in mag 186:

ALSO MARTIN: You feel guilty about everything. [...] The end of the entire world?

MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…

ALSO MARTIN: Really? Really? That’s how you’re choosing to remember it? Chickening out?

MARTIN: I remember it was the wrong choice.

the big ritual happens and he feels like his choice, the first "proper choice" he made in a while, was wrong enough that the the end of the world is on his shoulders. as a result, we then see him defaulting back to some old habits of trying to be a comforting, stable presence while jon's having a time of it in the cabin, with any decisions of what they do still ultimately up to jon. after this, though, things start to get a bit weirder.

he pushes for jon to start killing avatars; he pushes for jon to specifically kill oliver banks; when jon gives him the choice between walking into the burning building to kill jude perry or going around, martin outright rejects choosing either; he pleads with jon to do something in callum brodie's domain; he goes silent when jon directly asks him what he should do.

because martin doesn't like not actually having any agency, because of course not, no one likes that, especially no one in this kind of environment. what he said in mag 117 still holds true, he's long since had enough of being reactive and neutral. what martin really doesn't like is feeling responsible for anything. if the choice is jon's, then he'll make his thoughts crystal clear and try to guide him towards an decision, but the second it's put on him, he'll outright reject it. at this point, martin's ideal way of functioning would be never having to personally put anything into action while jon makes every decision in the way he wants.

he chills on this after jon stops the murder spree, but he still doesn't have much cause to make choices for a while until he's told his domain's coming up. he watches the whole thing with jon and jordan kennedy, and that seems to strike something in him, because the next time there's a choice to be made, he makes it. when the time comes for them to save or doom another victim in a domain, martin decides that if the inspector would like being a torturer, then they should leave him, and that is exactly the bit of development that lets him into his domain. the main point of mag 186 is letting martin get used to the idea that his avoiding decisions is a problem and something that he can't keep up.

MARTIN: I don’t know, all right? I don’t know.

ALSO MARTIN: And that’s okay for now, but I just want us to have thought about this stuff properly before it comes up. Because even if that’s not it, chances are it’ll be something else you don’t want to do, and we need to make a proper choice. We can’t just react out of shame or fear or whatever.

MARTIN: What, like with Peter and Elias?

ALSO MARTIN: Yes.

MARTIN: That was a proper choice?! I chose wrong!

ALSO MARTIN: But you made a decision. Your own decision. Regardless of the outcome.

it's a big turning point for him in a lot of ways, this is also the first time he actually considers the idea that he might have to kill jon, but it also sets him up to close this last part of his arc. in the final stretch of episodes, he makes three big choices:

he follows annabelle when she turns up and says she has a way to turn the world back.

he agrees with melanie, georgie, and basira over jon and decides to go with the plan of passing on the fears.

he believes in that decision enough that he predicts and plans around jon's lying and sends the others to light the gas main early.

all of which contribute to sealing the events of the finale. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[inkandpen22]

Dazed and Confused (S 1: 4/?)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild language and violence

Word Count: 3.1k

Part Summary: Steve and Y/N spend the weekend together and on Monday, Nancy can’t remember a thing... 

Masterlist

I woke up early with a headache and decided the best course of action is a hot shower. I let Steve stay in bed, after the tough night he had he deserves it. 

After hopping out of the shower, I turn down my radio and quietly bop to 

Culture Club. I wipe down the foggy mirror and start my hair routine. It takes a lot to get the voluminous hair of the decade. Once I'm done, I emerge back into my bedroom to grab a change of clothes, leaving my radio going. 

"Morning," Steve voices, staring up at the ceiling. 

I jump, squeezing my towel around me. "Oh uh, hi, sorry! I thought you were still asleep!" 

He lifts his head and realizes I'm in a towel. His eyes grow wide. "Oh shit! No, my bad! I uh... I'll go downstairs!" He rushes to climb out of bed. 

"No! No! It's okay! I'll go get ready in the bathroom! Let just me grab some stuff!" I hurry over to my dresser. 

Steve settles back down with a sigh, clearly happy to be able to rest after the night he had. 

"Have you been up long?" I ask. 

"Nah, just thinking about last night and what happened with Nancy..." he states solemnly. 

"Well, it's Saturday," I remind him of the perk. "My parents are gone to Chicago for a business trip for a few days, which means we can hang out here. A nice big chocolate chip pancake breakfast," I suggest, heading back toward my bathroom door. 

"Sounds nice," he grins. "And then we could go to the mall, maybe rent a movie?" 

"Splash?" I request. 

He nods, meeting my gaze again. "Deal." 

I move to head back into the bathroom to get ready with a content smile. 

"Hey Y/N?" He rushes out, flying up from his laid position.

I hum, turning over my shoulder. 

"Do you-" oddly, he stops himself, shaking his head. "Never mind," he laughs. 

"You sure?" 

He nods, "yeah. Don't worry about it." 

I shrug and head back into the bathroom. Weird. 

________________________________________________

Steve and I are curled up on my couch, watching Splash, one of my favorite movies. A bowl of popcorn and M&Ms shared between us, along with a blanket. 

I shake my head, immersed in the movie. "I love- 

"Tom Hanks," Steve chuckles, tossing some candy into his mouth. "How many times have you seen this movie?" 

"At least a dozen," I confess. 

He glances over at me. "You have a problem." 

"Tell me about it," I smirk proudly. 

Abruptly, the phone in the hall starts to ring. I huff, hopping up off the couch to get it. 

"Want me to pause it?" Steve checks. 

"Nah, I've seen it," I giggle and pick up the phone.  "Hello?" I greet. 

"I need you to come over, right now!" Dustin panics. 

I frown, glancing at Steve through the archway in confusion. "Now? Why? What's wrong?" 

"I've found a giant slug!" He rushes out. 

"A slug," I repeat in annoyance. "Seriously, Dustin." 

"I've named it Dart!" 

"I'll see it on Monday," I move to hang up. 

"No! You have to come over now!" He insists. 

"Kinda busy here," I grumble under my breath. 

"Busy? How are you busy? You're never busy." 

"I am too! I have company!" I tell him. 

"You don't have company, Steve is over," he argues. 

I hurry over to the window, the phone cord following behind me. Steve watches me in curiosity as I scan up the road at Dustin's house. "Are you watching my house again?" 

"That's not important!" He shouts, clearly guilty. "Why are you hanging out with Steve?" 

"Why do you have a giant pet slug?" I fire back. 

"Fine, just bring him too!" 

"We can't, we have plans." 

"Son of a bitch, you're really no help at all you know that?" 

I scoff. "Oh save it, I drive you to school every day. Bye!" I hang up the phone. 

Irritated, I walk back over to the couch and pull half the blanket back over me. Thankfully, I didn't miss anything good in the movie. 

Steve hands me the candy bowl. "What was that about?" 

"I don't have any biological siblings but I do have a little brother," I remark, making him snicker. 

_________________________________________

On Monday morning, I blast Night Ranger through my Walkman as I unload my bag into my locker. Dustin wouldn't shut up about his stupid slug all the way to school. He was pretty annoyed that I didn't come in and see it this morning. I assured him that I would stop in when I drive him home. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and I spin around, removing my headphones. 

Nancy nervously rocks on her heels, gripping her books to her chest. "Hey, have you seen Steve?" 

I frown. "Not yet, why?" 

"Have you seen him since Tracy's?" 

"Yeah..." I reply hesitantly, wondering where this is going.

"Well, he hasn't answered my calls all weekend," she tells me in a hushed tone, glancing up and down the hall for eavesdroppers. "Whenever I left a message, his mom called back and said he was out. Do you know what's going on with him?" 

"I don't..." I drag out, debating on if I should tell her the whole truth. "After a certain point, all I remember is Billy hitting on me and Steve driving me home." I stick to what I know for sure happened. 

Her face changes from concern to confusion. "Wait, he drove you home? I thought he drove me home." 

"No, I mean unless he drove you home and came back."

She whines, glancing down the hall anxiously. "I better go talk him. I'll see you later!" 

I nod and mumble an 'okay.' I watch as she hurries down the hall toward the gym where Steve likely is hiding. I slip my headphones back on with a sigh. This won't be good. 

____________________________________

I walk out of Algebra with my friend Veronica, gushing about the newest Elton John album. Abruptly, a hand wraps around my wrist and I yanked away from her. 

"Woah! Jesus!" I blurt out and my eyes land on Steve as he hurries me down the hall. "Okay Harrington, where are we going?" I laugh nervously. 

He releases my wrist and presses his hand to my back. "McDonald's, a park, anywhere, I don't know! I just want to get out of here." 

"But I still have chem before lunch," I remind him. 

"You can afford to miss one class," he laughs. "Your GPA is what 3.9999-" 

I roll my eyes but comply nonetheless. "Well, there goes my perfect attendance." 

Steve and I run by McDonald's and enjoy our milkshake and fries in the parking lot. Steve has the radio quietly going in the background as he fills me in on the details of his talk with Nancy. In summary, it didn't go well. 

"So she doesn't remember any of it?" I clarify. 

"Appears not." He rolls his eyes, shoving some fries into his shake. 

I nod, processing it all. Then, I remember what happened Friday morning. "I forgot to tell you. Jonathan came up to me on Friday and accused us of sneaking around behind Nancy's back." 

Steve nearly chokes on a fry. "What?" He coughs. 

"He saw you climbing out of my window," I explain. 

"Well-" He starts to panic. "Well did you tell him we're just friends?" 

"No, I told him we're having a wild, passionate, affair," I sass. "Of course, I told him!" 

He releases a sigh of relief, holding his chest. 

Geez, he's so dramatic. 

"Maybe I should apologize to her," he determines. 

My brows scrunch together. "For what?" 

"Good point... Do you think he'll tell her?" 

I shrug, how am I supposed to know? "I don't know. Probably not," I remark a tad more annoyed than intended. "Have they talked lately?" 

"He drove her home that night. I told him to," he tells me. 

"Oh..." I mumble, allowing my focus to wander outside. 

Steve shifts in his seat to face me. "Do you think he knows I was at your place?" 

"I don't know..." 

He huffs, tossing his head back stressfully. "How did things get this fucked up?" 

I reach across the divider and place my hand over his gently. "It'll work out." 

He sighs, his eyes meet mine worriedly. "You really think so?" 

I hum to reassure him, but frankly, I have no idea. I just don't have the heart to tell him the truth. Plus, it hurts to watch him worry about Nancy when a piece of me is selfishly happy that they're over. 

__________________________________

Masterlist

[philhoffman]

Y’all I am so overwhelmed I don’t even know what to say. A little digging this morning led to me one of the best sources on the world wide web I’ve ever found — a PSH fan site from the LiveJournal days (before my time!), active from 1998 to 2004. Articles, interview transcriptions, photos, links to other fan sites, real-time updates about Phil and his career throughout the early 2000s.

I just spent hours going through the whole thing and some adjacent sites and it’s fucking spectacular. I’d say most of the photos are now missing (understandable! I was overjoyed to get any decent quality photos at all from a 24-year-old abandoned website) and there are many broken links, but it’s navigable. You can find most of it here, thanks to the Wayback Machine.

The historian in me is overjoyed by this capsule of early internet fandom and the PSH fan is overjoyed by all the love he was getting at this point in his career. So fucking cool getting a look at the original PSH community online, our predecessors! Dozens of great updates about potential movies, new releases, his theater work, how cute he looks. Phil knew about the site and was both amused and characteristically flattered/embarrassed by it, of course.

I’m getting embarrassingly emotional about this tbh. I really feel very grateful that I get to share neat finds like this old website with our community of Phil fans here on tumblr and anywhere else I meet them. With Phil’s birthday this week, I’m thinking about him extra hard. I miss him and sometimes the idea that he isn’t here, that there aren’t any new films or plays or performances or bear hugs to take in and never will be, really starts to get to me. But whenever I feel like that, almost inevitably, I find something new. When I finished his filmography, it was the Queen Latina tape surfacing (the funniest possible discovery amidst my grief). Right now, it’s this brilliant fan site. I’m sure in the future there will be more, whether it’s another lost performance waiting to be found or just a strong feeling. There’s always something. A little nudge. It’s very sweet and it’s so very Phil. He’s still with us in so many ways, we just have to find him and hold onto him.

Goes without saying I’ll be posting all the best stuff from Daryn’s site for the next few weeks. Stay tuned over the next few days for Phil, in college, singing and shouting and jumping around with his roommates’ band. (I’m telling you, you really gotta check out that site.)

[nikosheba]

Marco -> Jake????

Oh my god where do i start i'm sorry this is gonna get long

One: young teens in the 90s who joke constantly about being in love with their best friends almost never grew up to be Completely Straight (if you are a teen who jokes constantly about being attracted to, being married to, and being in love with your best friend, just gotta say, start examining that now, it'll save you time). I'm compiling a giant text doc of snippets where Marco makes Very Funny Jokes about how into Jake he is (saying he gets all tingly when Jake takes charge, pretending they're married, asking if Jake has a kiss for him, calling him, "Hey, Handsome!" my folder is actually getting huge). If you made dozens of public jokes about how extremely into your best friend you were and you are at least 30 years old and you ARE completely straight now, let me know. (only olds!!! if you're born after 1990 life is legitimately different for you!!! seriously!!!! I'm not saying queer kids now have it easy but It Was Different!!!!)

Two: Marco joins the war for Jake. Marco goes on the Rachel for Jake. Marco's entire reason for making all the biggest choices in his life that will destroy him are for Jake. He even says in #15 that his entire identity is the funny and smart one who would follow Jake anywhere without blinking. Every other character has a crisis of wondering whether they should actually follow Jake! Cassie, his girlfriend, goes against his orders when Tom grabs the morphing cube (50). Rachel goes off on her own (37). Tobias loses faith in Jake completely and sees him as a manipulator (by 33, again in 43, completely after the war). Ax disobeys and incapacitates him when he thinks he has a good reason (52). Marco never does. He'll sneak around or try to weasel out of stuff, but he never has a moment where he loses faith in Jake. Even at the end, Jake goes around asking everyone to follow him - except Marco. He already knows Marco will follow him. He even tells Cassie that he doesn't have to ask, he knows Marco will follow him. Ouch!

Three: Marco aggressively pursues girl after girl after girl but he doesn't actually care about any of them. He deliberately chooses the most un-gettable girl around ( Marci, the "prettiest girl in school," Rachel, Jeanne, etc.), and if they ever DO show interest back, he gets nervous and tanks whatever it is (falling asleep on his symphony date in #25, dropping the eagerness in MM4, immediately turning around and joking to Jake as soon as Jeanne rejects him then never mentioning it again during the months they're on the ship, as if he's done his performative part and that's over with).

Four: Just to be clear: I very much headcanon Marco as not being entirely aware of this aspect of himself during the series. I could go either way on whether he's figured it out about himself by the time they get on the Rachel. I absolutely do hc Jake as being sadly 100% straight, which is a pretty rare headcanon for me to have about anyone, fictional or nonfictional lmao. (I'm also an enormous fan of Jake/Cassie, this isn't me saying Jake/Marco is my ship, but I absolutely, completely do believe that Marco --> Jake is a thing). There's also the fact that he already dealt with a HUGE loss of status - specifically, he went from "having the perfect family" and "living almost next door to Jake" to living in an apartment in the bad part of town. He's already gone from "the same social rank as Jake" to "significantly lower," and acknowledging there's something else about him that would demote him again in the same way? That would be terrifying.

Five: I'm just going to say: Look at these two descriptions from #5:

[image ID: Two screenshots of The Predator, Animorphs #5. The first one reads: "Jake is my best friend, even though, unfortunately, he is kind of a pain sometimes. He's one of those serious-type guys. You say the word "responsibility" and he snaps to attention. He's the kind of guy who always seems like he's bigger than he actually is. That's because he has that whole "I'm in charge, and you can trust me" thing going on. He has sensible brown hair, and trustworthy brown eyes, and one of those confident chins. He also has a great sense of humor and is very smart, and I would trust him with my life any day, any time, not that I would ever tell him that." The second image reads: "Rachel is Jake's cousin, and a total babe who, unfortunately, is also totally insane. See, somehow, underneath all that perfect hair and perfect teeth, there's this lunatic Amazon warrior-queen, just fighting to get out. Here's what Rachel'll say whenever we decide to do something so dangerous it makes you want to wet yourself: "I'm in! Let's go! Let's do it!" End Image ID]

I'm just saying. Which Berenson does it sound like he's really into?

Six: I'm projecting! I was a queer kid in the 90s who was in love with my best friend and I'm completely projecting! Because it genuinely looks like Marco is going through all the same things I went through!

[icycoolslushie]

THG Thomastair AU

“I wish we could find sanctuary,” Thomas said. “You know, with shelter and such.”

“But Thomas,” Alastair said, “you are my sanctuary.”

TW/CW: If you're reading this, you've probably read The Hunger Games books or watched the movies so this has the same stuff as in them!

Idea // OG post // Ask

Disclaimers: This has headcanons along with snippets. Hopefully it's not OOC. Any Persian is what my Iranian friend told me. I like to headcanon that all the districts have their own language. Warning: The plot might be non-existent. Also, if you see any kind of mistakes (grammar, spelling, etc.) please let me know! Kinda long :)

Thomas is from District 7

Alastair is from District 11

The president is Josiah Wayland

The Head Gamemaker is Maurice Bridgestock

Eugenia is part of a group to overthrow the Capitol

Barbara and Oliver died in a previous Hunger Games

It was like it was in the books

Alastair used to be in a relationship with Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, Charlotte Fairchild

Risa is Sona’s sister so Alastair’s aunt

Alastair volunteers for Cordelia

Cordelia struggles with him and finally says in “I love you” in Persian (dooset daram) before Alastair goes on the train

Cordelia is like Prim

Alastair’s mentor is Ragnor Fell

They be sassy together

Thomas’s mentor is Charlotte

Alastair’s stylist tells him Alastair should dye his hair back to black

In the opening ceremony, Thomas dresses as a tree and Alastair thinks how Thomas makes “a boring costume look beautiful”

Alastair has a suit on with leaves embroidered on it which Thomas later tells him “it was like nature blessed you”

Jem may or may not be an Avox Jem is Alastair’s Avox

Thomas Tanner is Thomas’s Avox

For training Alastair throws spears and pulls a 8

Thomas uses a broadsword in training and pulls an 8 as well

Thomas gets a compass rose tattoo from his stylist for the interview

The arena has a structure that looks like the Eiffel Tower at one end

The arena is covered in forests, except for the Cornucopia

When the canon sounds, Alastair runs toward the Cornucopia and escapes with a dagger to the forest

Thomas runs straight (ha!) into the forest

9 children die in the initial bloodbath

Alastair and Thomas both spend the night in trees about ten minutes away from each other

In the morning, Alastair hears rustling and eventually confronts Thomas

They first try to kill each other, but then they hear someone else and work together to fight the District 9 male tribute

Alastair puts his dagger at the tribute’s throat and stabs him there

Alastair doesn’t want to partner up and vice versa

“Alastair—I think you’d be a great person to team up with, but I . . . I don’t want to team up with you. I don’t want to team up with anyone. We—we might survive till the end, and then—” “No, Thomas, I understand. We’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll go our separate ways.” Thomas nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Part of him had been hoping Alastair would disagree with him, even when it was reasonable. He ignored it and set about laying the food they’d gathered.

But they gather food and decide they’ll have a meal together and then go their separate ways

They make a meal of some fruits they find on trees and on the ground

Thomas just cannot eat the celery

They part ways

By the second night, fourteen people in total are dead

Thomas goes to the Eiffel Tower structure the next day

He climbs onto the first level and greets Alastair

Alastair’s leg is wounded

Alastair explains that the Careers fought him

The Careers include Augustus Pounceby and Clive Cartwright

“Tell me. Tell me who hurt you. I’ll kill them.” Alastair had never seen anyone so angry on his behalf that it unnerved him. “It doesn’t matter, it was the Capitol—” “Don’t,” Thomas said quietly. “Don’t try to downplay it. I want to make them pay.” Alastair paused. After a minute he said, “It was the Careers. The District 1 and 2 tribute. Augustus and Clive. They climbed onto here and started fighting me. I gave Augustus a good cut on the arm and Clive a nice scar on his cheek but they overpowered me. Augustus stabbed my leg. They left laughing.” “They didn’t finish you off?” Alastair shook his head. “I think they . . . wanted me to suffer. It isn’t like I can go anywhere, and I have no allies, so probably wanted to come back tomorrow and then finish me off. But it’s not like I’m going to last that long.” The last sentence caught Thomas off guard. “What?” “Aren’t you going to kill me?” Thomas thought about the District 1 tribute, Augustus, who had been saying that Barbara was weak before the Opening Ceremony. That Barbara, who had gotten him out of a scuffle with a Peacekeeper, was weak. That Barbara, who had volunteered for her cousin in the Reaping, was weak. He thought about the hate he had felt for the Career. Then he thought about graceful, elegant, bleeding Alastair in front of him, the way he had hugged his sister, the way he guarded himself, and decided. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Thomas bandages Alastair’s wound

“Alastair, you’re hurt. Please let me wrap your leg in leaves and vines.” “Thomas, you don’t understand. I’ve always bandaged my own wounds. It’s not going to change now.” “Sometimes,” Thomas said, “it’s better to let others take care of you. They do a better job than you realize. Alastair, please. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” Alastair saw something in Thomas’s eyes: truth. He thought back to how many people would want to help him: his father, his mother, his aunt Risa . . . when he was young. As he grew up, all of them faced the same cruel system and all of them were expected to take care of their own wounds. Now, here was someone willing to help him when he should be killing him. It gave Alastair such a feeling of care and belonging that he nodded. It wouldn’t hurt to let someone take care of him for once.

They eventually decide to team up

Thomas makes a meal out of things he finds in the forest

He and Alastair eat it

Alastair heals from his wound

By that night, nineteen people are dead

Augustus, Clive, and the District 8 female tribute are still alive along with them

Alastair takes first watch during the night, Thomas takes the second

Alastair gently moved his fingers across the compass rose tattoo that Thomas had gotten from his stylist. He felt Thomas’s pulse. He promised himself that that pulse would go on even when his own didn’t.

The next day Alastair and Thomas set off (Alastair’s leg is healed)

Augustus and Clive are waiting for them

Thomas kills Augustus, attacking with A LOT of force

Clive gets a good hit on Thomas with a sword on his left arm

Alastair and Clive fight, Clive flees finally while he’s bleeding from a dozen cuts

Alastair bandages Thomas’s wound with leaves and vines

“I love it when you say my name. Say it again.” “Thomas—Thomas, you’ve lost too much blood. You’re going delirious.” Thomas sighed softly. “I would go delirious if that meant I could hear you say my name one more time.”

They get a sponsor gift: a whole meal of steak and sides, which they finish that day

When Alastair bites into an apple, Thomas wants to kiss him

Both of them fall asleep at night

When they wake up, they’re in a prison; a Capitol prison

They were in prison. But even if they were in hell, Alastair wouldn’t have minded. They were together.

They lie in each other’s arms, seeking warmth

“Why are we in prison? What did we do?” Alastair demanded, getting up as Josiah Wayland stuck his ugly face in front of the bars. President Wayland’s lip curled. “It isn’t you that did something, it’s your family.” Thomas gasped sharply. “Eugenia.” The president smiled cruelly. “So you do know her crime.” Thomas swallowed. Alastair put his hand in Thomas’s. “What did my family do?” Alastair asked, trying to change the topic. “Why, your sister did the same thing,” Josiah Wayland said. This time Alastair gave a sharp gasp. Thomas squeezed his hand, and Alastair drew a bit of comfort from him. But his mind was on Cordelia, his little sister, what would happen to her— Wayland, the monster he was, smiled wider as he saw Alastair and Thomas despairing their sisters’ fate.

Cordelia joined the same rebel group Eugenia was in

“But why are we here? What did they do that you had to take us out of the Games?” Thomas demanded when he had finally calmed down. It seemed that all the Lightwood siblings would all die in their youth. “As soon as they are in our custody, they will be executed. In front of you two. Everyone thinks the two of you killed each other. After they’re dead, both of you will be executed.” Thomas swallowed. “Why? Why will you execute us?” “Your sisters should have thought about your safety before they did what they did. At least you’ll be able to tell them goodbye. If the executioners give you the chance,” President Wayland added before he gave another cruel smile and left.

Thomas and Alastair despair over their and their sisters’ fates

“We’ll fight them. I don’t care. We’ll fight the Capitol. We’ll make them pay for what they did to Barbara and Oliver and Jem and Will and Tessa and my mom and every single person they hurt. We’ll make them pay, Alastair.”

Thomas sighed. “If only we had hope.” “I don’t think about hope, Thomas. I think about you. You’re my hope.” And now I’m going to lose you, Alastair wanted to add, but he didn’t. And then I won’t have any hope left.

“The odds were never in our favour, Thomas,” Alastair whispered, closing his eyes. Then he added softly, “And they never will be.”

Letter addressed to Alastair Carstairs, District 11 male tribute of the 56th Hunger Games, from Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, found crumpled in a trash bin of the Training Center floor 11

Taglist: @della-vacker-supremacy @themadhatter999 @writeforjordelia @theenchanteddreamer Also tagging @jurdan-my-beloved who originally requested the headcanons and @youngreckless Lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

[nataliedanovelist]

GF & MvsM - Wanna Talk About Dinos?

This crossover was inevitable. It just works too well. Maybe one day i’ll write a fic about how the folks at Gravity Falls handled the robot-apocalypse. Probably shrugged it off. “Eh. We’ve had worse.” Haha! What if Stan and Ford, cuz they were out sailing, had no clue what happened and when they came back they were like, “Wait, what?”

For now, please enjoy this fic of Aaron making a new friend...

(credit goes to @stephreynaart for her OC Jacob) ~~~~~~~~~~ “Hi, would you like to talk to me about dinosaurs?”

Aaron asked this question more times than he could keep track of, but that wasn’t going to stop him from asking it. It started as a dare from his big sister two years ago, but now it’s a fun hobby. When fifth grade isn’t overwhelming him, scaring him with mountains of homework and horror stories about how hard middle school is going to be, and when he’s run out of YouTube videos to catch up on, he is on the hunt for fellow giant-lizard-lovers like a hungry Ceratosaurus.

“No, okay bye.” But it did get a little tiring to always cross out names and phone-numbers on the phone book with red ink. Hey, a dinosaur of a way to find phone-numbers was appropriate. He read the next number, dialed it, and after a ring or two he asked, “How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs? No, okay thank you.”

Aaron crossed out another name and sighed, taking a break since he reached the end of a line of numbers. Maybe he should just be grateful for Abbey and accept that no one else wants to talk about the Jurassic Period. Or the Cretaceous Period. Or the Triassic Period. But then a big, old, gray-tinted ad distracted him. He grinned, thinking it would at least be fun to give them a call, and he dialed the number.

Private home phone-numbers were fun, but businesses were also fun! Poor, bored workers would gladly talk to him rather than crabby Karens, and they got paid for it! So Aaron smiled as the phone rang, and he grinned when someone picked up.

“Thanks for calling the Mystery Shack, you’re talking to Mr. Mystery himself! How may I befuddle or bewilder you?”

“Hi! How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs?”

“Oh, dude! I’d love to, but I’m scheduled for a tour of the Oddity Museum in three minutes.” The man said, and Aaron grinned continuously, because it sounded like Mr. Mystery really wanted to talk with him about dinosaurs. “But hey! Can you hold on for one minute, I think I know a guy!”

“Yeah, sure mister!” And Aaron was greeted by the sound of a catchy jingle about buying t-shirts and mugs and snowglobes. He smiled and wiggled his feet along to the music as he looked outside at the beautiful late-fall afternoon, entertained while he waited.

~~~~~~~~~~

Soos was on the hunt. He planned out the house in his head. Abuelita was taking a nap upstairs, Melody was organizing the upcoming tour, and Stan took Jacob out for ice cream, so he might be…

The owner of the Shack grinned when he stopped at the doorway and saw the man he was looking for, sitting in Stan’s chair, reading a book.

“Uncle Ford!”

The old sailor smiled up at the young man. “Yes, wh-...”

“Do you think you could answer the phone for me? I have a tour and I think this customer’s request is right up your alley.”

“Uh… sure, but w-...”

“Thanks, you’re the best!” And Soos was gone before he could address Ford’s confusion.

Ford was a bit lost, having little to no business with business, but he had learned at this point to trust Soos, so he picked up the phone beside him and was immediately greeted with a sweet, “How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs?”

Ford grinned and closed his book. “I would love to! All three periods are equally as fascinating to study, but the Triassic contains some of my favorite dinosaurs!”

A young voice gasped on the other line. “Mine, too! Everyone thinks the Jurassic period is so great, and it’s pretty cool, but the Triassic gave us Plateosaurus and the Brachiosaurus!”

“That’s very true! You know, it’s very interesting, maybe depictions don’t include feathers at all, which is a bit frustrating, but perhaps after the news has spread they will incorporate more feathers on merchandise and textbooks.”

“YES! That’s what I wanna do when I grow up, help draw better-accurate dinosaurs!”

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang on Sunday. The Shack was closed today, so Stan lazily answered it and was greeted with, “Wanna talk about dinosaurs?”

“Sixer, phone for you!”

Ford ran into the living room, elbowed his twin out of the chair, and took the phone. “Hello again, Aaron! Now, where were we? Right, so Australopithecus. … No, I don’t think… Oh! No, homo habilis was erect, Australopithecus was never fully erect.”

“Maybe he was nervous.” Stan groaned, getting to his feet.

Ford shot him a look as thankfully the young boy on the other end didn’t catch that and happily shared some more fun-facts about homo habilis.

~~~~~~~~~~

While most college students were excited for Spring Break so they could get drunk or lose their virginity, Katie was excited because her family had planned a special secret roadtrip. She was careful to keep up with her family and talk to her parents and brother frequently, but Aaron had a hobby he wasn’t talking about that his parents found out and were thrilled about. Aaron had made another friend.

Rick and Katie did some research and the tourist attraction sounded right up their alley! In the middle of the woods, tons of weird stuff, and a fun roadtrip filled with diners and attractions. They decided to surprise Aaron, and they made up a lie that they would spend Spring Break in California with Katie so she could show her family around San Francisco, when in actuality they would be traveling up the state to the Redwood Highway and see the oddity place, and maybe even allow Aaron to meet his new pen-pal. Or, um, phone-pal.

So after bombarding Katie with hugs the Mitchells threw her luggage into the car and drove off. Aaron turned to Katie and excitingly asked, “So where are we going first? Can we go fix the Golden Gate bridge by painting it gold?”

Katie laughed and ruffled his hair. “Maybe later, right now I wanna show you guys this fun store right outside of town. Here, check out the videos I made for my classes!” And she pulled out some airpods and gave one to Aaron.

“Cool!”

Rick and Linda smirked at each other as they drove north. By the time they reached a little diner in Redding, CA, it was very clear to Aaron that they weren’t in San Francisco anymore. “Come on, just tell me where we’re going!” The boy begged as he fed Monchi a fry.

“The best kind of prizes are the surprises.” Linda quoted.

“Eric, Deborahbot5000, where are we going?”

“Sorry, Aaron, we cannot give that information.” Eric said, he and the other robot sitting politely in their seats, happy to be a part of the social interaction.

“Yes, Mother will bury us if we disobey.” Deborahbot said matter-of-factly.

“What?! No I won’t, sweeties.”

“Won’t you ground us?”

The family laughed and Aaron let the topic go; if he was honest, he loved a good surprise. The big family stopped in a motel just at the California-Oregon border, and the next morning after muffins and coffee and orange juice they were on the road again, passing dozens of trees that made Rick feel at home. Katie happily recorded the trip, trusted to be the documenter for another fun roadtrip, with hopefully not as much mortal peril.

Aaron watched as they left the highway for a simple road, and they passed a big sign. The boy gasped and caught what was happening. “No WAY! Really?!”

“You know, I hear this Mystery Shack even has a Sasquatch.” Rick commented while Linda pulled out a pamphlet from the glove box.

“It says here it’s full of odd things you’ll never see anywhere else, even a dinosaur footprint…”

“Wasn’t there a rumor of there being a Bottomless Pit?” Katie asked, pointing her camera at Aaron to get his reaction.

“Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!!” Aaron cheered, hugging his Dad’s neck and kissing his Mom’s cheek.

“Hey, no worries, buddy.” Rick eased, fixing his shewed glasses. “We wanted to see this place, too!”

“Why don’t we eat a quick lunch and then we’ll take the backroad for the attraction? There’s a coupon in here for a diner made from a giant log!”

And so after being served by a pretty blonde teenager at Greasy’s, they drove through town to get to the backroad. Signs made them confident that they were going the correct way, as well as Eric and Deborahbot5000’s GPS. Then as they turned a corner, a big triangle-shaped building came into view. Aaron grinned at the giant sign with a missing letter. People were already leaving, arms full of souvenirs and one or two already wearing their new hats or t-shirts. Once Rick parked in the Free Parking Lot, Aaron spilled out of the car and ran for the shack, but he stopped.

Katie caught up to him and patted his back. “You cool, man?”

Aaron shrugged, holding his hands in front of him and his shoulders up to hide his face a bit. “I-I dunno… What if… What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Hey, I get it.” Katie admitted. “When I first met my friends I was really nervous. I had talked to them online for weeks and I was worried it wasn’t gonna be what it was all cracked up to be, but it was. Your system worked! You found another dino-lover! You earned this moment. Just take in a deep breath and be yourself, cuz you’re a pretty cool dude.”

Aaron smiled up at his big sister. “Thanks.”

Trusting Eric and Deborahbot5000 to watch Monchi and make sure he used the bathroom, the Mitchells went inside the shack. On the porch there was an ice cooler, a sign reading schedule times for tours of the Oddity Museum, a Help Wanted sign, and two rocking chairs with a game of checkers between them.

Inside the store a few customers filled up the gift shop, alongside t-shirts, snowglobes, a vending machine, a door beside ti that read Employees Only, a bookshelf full of comic on one side and old newspapers claiming alien sightings on the other, a fish tank holding a monkey-mermaid, and barrels full of spaceship keychains and dino claws. A new section called Camping Stuff caught Rick’s eye, selling backpacks, lanterns, flashlights, batteries, canteens, and compasses. Katie opened a comic called Lil’Stanley and laughed at the swears, taking a pic and sending it to her friends’ group chat. Linda looked into the barrel full of patches and grinned at all the fun designs, while Aaron stared happily at the mer-monkey.

The Employees Only door opened and closed and Rick watched as a man in a suit, fez, and eyepatch walked up to the lady at the register and kissed her cheek. The woman smiled lovingly and left while the guy who resembled a gopher checked a customer out. Rick waited until the buyer left to approach the register, leaning an arm on the counter.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, dude!”

“Thanks! So, this is gonna sound weird, but my son Aaron talks to a guy here about dinosaurs…”

“No way!” The owner interrupted excitedly. “Good to see you, dudes! I’m Mr. Mystery! Wow, you guys came a long way, huh?”

“Nah, only from California. My daughter is attending art school there.”

While the men chit-chatted and Linda joined them, Katie noticed a guy walking up to Aaron and looking at the mer-monkey. She smiled and tried to read the comic without being too nosy, but she kept her senses on her brother.

“Hm, quite fascinating, isn’t it?” The man in the blue hoodie said. “But I think my favorite is the fossilized footprint. Could be Nanuqsaurus hoglundi.”

“The Polar Bear Lizard?” Aaron clarified, touching his chin as he looked at the dino-print, his back to the man he was talking to. “Maybe, but they’re from Alaska. It’s possible plate tectonics did cause some fossils to be relocated here, but it could also be a Nanotyrannosaurus lancensis footprint.”

“The Dwarf Tyrant? Could very well be. Would you like to talk about dinosaurs after your tour?”

Aaron’s eyes widened as the voice was finally familiar to him. He turned and looked up to find an old man smiling up at him. He had fluffy gray hair with a white stripe running around his scalp, wrinkles by his eyes due to smiling, a cleft chin, glasses, and wore a blue hoodie with a maroon sweater underneath. His hands were behind his back and he smiled down at Aaron warmly, while the boy was jittery and overly-excited. He took in a sharp breath and had to fight every muscle to keep from leaping through the screen door. 

“H-H-Hi…” He peeped. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Y-Yeah, sure! I’d love to! I’m Aaron! Er, wait, you already knew that.” And he held out a hand to shake.

His phone-pal, Ford, chuckled and got on one knee to be eye-level. “Greeting, Aaron! It’s nice to formally meet you.”

Aaron shook his hand and noticed something. He had six fingers on his right hand. A quick glance told Aaron he also had six fingers on his left hand. Aaron grinned with sparkling eyes at his new friend, while the old sailor smiled warmly at the boy that reminds him of his niece and nephew when they were young.

[tenthgrove]

Yandere La Squadra- Formaggio, Melone, and Ghiaccio

Warning: It goes without saying that these headcanons are darker than my usual stuff, so if you are uncomfortable with ideas such as abduction and forced relationships, beware I go into them here. Extreme violent abuse and non-con (beyond low-level touching) are not present, however, since I don’t write for these themes.

Formaggio

Formaggio falls for someone he meets by chance, most likely somewhere like a bar, bowling alley or cinema. Regardless, after a couple of random encounters in which he gets to briefly chat with you, Formaggio starts to seek you out on purpose. It isn’t long before he starts to develop a crush.

However, despite Formaggio’s attempts to come off as friendly you soon start to take him for a creep. You begin to consciously avoid him, going as far as to stop going to the places he tends to find you.

After a brief period of feeling spurned, Formaggio comes to realise that his initial hopes for a normal relationship were never very viable anyway. Say you’d accepted his early advances and gone on a few dates? How long until you start to question his friends and work life? No, the only way this is going to work is if he takes the more drastic route and abducts you.

Formaggio gets your living details with the help of those in the squad more suited to that kind of task. He doesn’t tell them why he needs to know all this. After a short period of stalking you in his car to memorise your routine, he forms his plan. He knows convincing you to come with him will be hard, but he doesn’t want to hurt you either. It seems he’ll have to rely on trickery to make you follow him blind.

Late one evening while you’re home alone, Formaggio sets fire to your neighbour’s house. As you run out the front door, panicked and confused, you don’t question the friendly voice promising to drive you to safety. You climb right into Formaggio’s car. By the time it dawns on you what’s really going on a few minutes later, it’s already far too late.

Formaggio eventually wants to have as close to a normal relationship with you as possible, but until you can be trusted not to run from him you’re going to be (loosely) chained to his bed. Look, he fixed his TV and even *cleaned up* for you! Would a shitty boyfriend do all that?

Tries to bribe you into forgiving him with food. Even if you give him the silent treatment, he’ll plonk himself down next to you and throw an arm around your shoulder, occasionally stuffing snacks into your mouth to feel like he’s treating you.

If you misbehave lightly, he’ll make a show of not being bothered by it, thinking his forgiveness will convince you he’s not that bad after all. However, if you’re really uncompliant, Formaggio will shrink you down until you apologise, always showering you with affection once you’ve swallowed your pride and told him what he wants to hear.

Secretly, Formaggio is excited by the possibility of you trying to escape and having to be dragged back. Once or twice, he might ‘accidentally’ leave the key to your chain on the nightstand, letting you have a few blissful hours of freedom before he takes you back. He’ll only punish you lightly, however, since he did set you up for this after all.

All-in-all, Formaggio can’t wait for the day you return his affections, and will woo you over in whatever corny ways he can think of.

 Melone

Melone is the sort of yandere to make the conscious decision to seek out a darling before he even has anyone in mind. With all his eccentric beliefs in astronomy and other personality pseudosciences, it’s only natural Melone would believe his special someone is out there just waiting for him to find them.

After having investigated several dozen candidates who he for one reason or another rejected, he finally lays eyes on you while stalking someone you know. It’s love at first sight, and as he lays in bed at night perusing all your social media profiles, he can’t find a single thing that doesn’t compound his earlier suspicions. He’s finally found you. His soulmate.

You are granted a few blessed final weeks of normalcy before Melone acts. This time is used to set up the room that will accommodate you. It is furnished with a lavish double bed, a large collection of clothes (Melone insists that regularly changing your clothes, even if you aren’t moving around much, will provide a sense of routine that will help with your mental health), a safe filled with various medicines to mediate your mood, and several forms of restraints that are various extents of restrictive, to be switched between depending on your behaviour.

What the room doesn’t have are windows- they’ve been completely bricked up. Your room is also padded wall to wall with sound-absorbent foam. Nothing from the outside world comes in, nothing goes out. Until you love him, your entire life will consist of Melone and this room.

When the time comes to take you, Melone will break into your house and drug you in your sleep, so that you’re completely unaware of what’s happening until you’re safely in your new home. He will sit at your bedside non-stop until you wake up, adamant to be the first thing you see when your new life begins.

The first few months of living with Melone are essentially a covert form of behavioural training. When you are nice to your new boyfriend, your life gets better. When you shun him, you stay at the current level of restrictions on your freedom. It is simple psychology that this will inevitably lead you to accept him more.

If, say, you were to misbehave extremely, such as by consistently trying to run away or physically attack him, then the ultimate punishment would be forcing you to create a junior that then becomes your guard. Although Melone will take every precaution to make sure no harm comes to you from your new child, he knows you will not enjoy the process, or the presence of the freakish being that calls you its parent.

Eventually, once you have a consistent track record of many months of good behaviour, Melone intends to let you live practically as freely as you did when you met him, even letting you leave the house regularly for hours at a time without supervision. However, even when you have no use for the room he initially kept you in and are no longer forced to be there, he won’t get rid of it. He enjoys looking back on those tender first months of having you. You won’t ever make him put you back there, will you?

  Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio holds his affections close to his heart, and for that reason, he will most likely fall in love with a childhood friend, or someone else he has a prior fondness for. Perhaps after a number of years out of contact, you suddenly move into his vicinity without knowing it. Ghiaccio sees you through the window of a café and is instantly struck with all the feelings he repressed from his youth.

In the coming weeks, Ghiaccio is filled with an intense paranoia. He wants to have you, to at very least be able to let you know he’s there, but he’s terrified of you getting hurt. Wait, do his enemies already know about you? That aside, will someone as weak as you *ever* be safe in a city like this? Ghiaccio knows he would never forgive himself if anything happened to you. That means he can’t sit still until he makes sure he does something about it.

Even still, your abduction is an impulse. That’s not to say he didn’t consider the idea before, even going as far as to make some casual preparations like getting new locks for the front door and spare room. However, he never had a concrete plan. All that convinced him to take you was a sleepless night. After several hours of tossing and turning, head filled with terrified thoughts of something bad happening to you, he decided he needed you *now*.

Ghiaccio doesn’t have much of a plan, but being so much stronger than you he doesn’t really need one. He bursts through the door of your house and drags you to his car, frantic explanations of what’s going on doing little to calm your terror. Freezing over your lips and wrists with ice, he puts you in the trunk and drives you home.

Ghiaccio tries his best to be patient and accommodating with you. He lets your room be your private space and doesn’t force physical contact on you, though he’ll occasionally plead with you to let him hold you when he’s feeling stressed. He dreams of the day you’ll stop being scared of him and he can have you whenever he wants.

Spends a lot of time trying to justify his actions. But even if you run away, he can’t bring himself to hurt you. Instead, he’ll bind you to a chair in his basement and rant for what feels like hours about how this is all for your own good, and you just don’t see that. He ends up practically begging for you to just stay with him without a fight.

The process of wooing you over is a lot of trial and error, inviting you to do activities with him he recalls you liking and encouraging you to be emotionally open with him. Eventually, through the sheer force of time, his efforts become successful and you start to reciprocate his affections.

However, given Ghiaccio’s paranoia it’s unlikely you’ll ever be able to go anywhere further than the corner shop without his supervision. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he’s just terrified of something happening to you. That said, he feels bad about restricting your freedom and will work hard to give you a good life.

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part two.   here and under the cut, you can find over 130 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes four to six, edited for roleplay purposes. some of these focus heavily on survival, war, science, and spooky stuff, but a lot can be used by anyone.  tw:  war, unreality, a mention of cannibalism, implications of manic behaviour.

❝  god, i hate snowstorms like this. not just getting caught in them, but the storms themselves. it feels like the earth’s trying to bury me alive every time it locks in like this. like nature’s rightly pissed off at all of us and doing its level best to crush us to death.  ❞

❝  that’s what yom kippur means:  the day of atonement.  ❞

❝  that wasn’t the first time i’ve caught him in my office, going through my stuff.  ❞

❝  normally i’d be annoyed at someone calling me young lady.  ❞

❝  thank you… you are so warm… thank you for letting me in.  ❞

❝  suddenly, everything fell into place. i made more progress than i had in about half a year.  ❞

❝  the thing i remember most was catching disapproving glances from my father every time i went to the library.  ❞

❝  why does time only run forward?  why does cause need to precede effect?  ❞

❝  no one knows if they can trust me with casework or not.  ❞

❝  i didn’t say i was interested.  ❞

❝  [he/i] was taken off duty and sent for psychiatric evaluation the next day.  ❞

❝  coffee. i was making coffee.  ❞

❝  i didn't mean to get stuck out here.  ❞

❝  that just goes to show how small humans really are in the grand scheme of things:  take away our tools and our toys and our technology, and we’re still just as vulnerable as we ever were.  ❞

❝  she was good at that:  making you feel like you were safe, like you could open up to her.  ❞

❝  i’m just going to cover that one up. no harm in keeping it out of sight for the moment.  ❞

❝  maybe there was someone in the stairs.  ❞

❝  i think i did the lion’s share of the talking, which almost never happens.  ❞

❝  i couldn’t get to sleep... i figured i’d get a head start today.  ❞

❝  i’m afraid i don’t have all of the details of your involvement with the… tragic events in [place]. and i don’t think i’m the only one.  ❞

❝  i’m still not sure i understand the whole tradition.  ❞

❝  whatever it is, it’s chasing me. i can hear it’s footsteps in the snow, i can hear it—  ❞

❝  when you work nights here, the less you really think about them, the better.  ❞

❝  honestly, i just can’t get it out of my head.  ❞

❝  snow is one of nature’s simplest and most effective ways of killing you dead if you aren’t prepared for it.  ❞

❝  i wish you’d tell me what you’re doing here. i could lose my job if anything gets broken or if you end up getting hurt in there…  ❞

❝  would you say you… considered her a friend?  ❞

❝  would you mind saying your name again?  for the recording?  ❞

❝  if that was true, then there was something—and as a scientist, i hate to say this—supernatural going on in that lab.  ❞

❝  most of them didn’t make it. a lot of them died afraid and alone, too.  ❞

❝  i know you don’t like listening to these things, so i just wanted to help you out with…  ❞

❝  if i could sleep, then trust me, i would.  ❞

❝  i’m guessing the new owners are trying to make this place seem less creepy than it already is.  ❞

❝  my schooling was expensive and unremarkable.  ❞

❝  a lot of them died afraid and alone, too:  ideal conditions for the making of poltergeists, in my experience.  ❞

❝  look, i’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for anything, so if you wouldn’t mind…  ❞

❝  basically, i was picturing a slightly creepier morticia addams. i couldn’t have been more wrong.  ❞

❝  now i have to deal with [name]’s aspirations to write drama..  ❞

❝  i promise i won’t get you sacked.  ❞

❝  i’ve never been very religious, but for some reason… it made me think of hell.  ❞

❝  i think it may have been a thank you.  ❞

❝  i’m working the graveyard shift and i noticed the lights were on.  ❞

❝  i shouldn’t be here. no one asked me to come in this early.  ❞

❝  everyone around here looks at me like i’m some kind of leper.  ❞

❝  i had to go home for a few hours. i’m already on thin ice around here, and i didn’t want to get in more trouble for screaming obscenities up and down the wall.  ❞

❝  it was… darkness. no, that doesn’t do it credit, the whole place was dark. this was just... void.  ❞

❝  if i’d seen her anywhere else, i’d think she was an athlete or a backpacker.  ❞

❝  better scientists than me have been bashing their heads into that particular wall since 1927.  ❞

❝  i just want you to know that… whatever you really are... you’re safe here.  ❞

❝  goats being goats, it would just come back the next day looking for food.  ❞

❝  i would like you to leave my office now… and i’ll ask you not to tamper with evidence in the future, understood?  ❞

❝  no, of course, i don’t have signal out here, so i can’t just call triple-a.  ❞

❝  what are you doing in my office—at four goddamn thirty in the morning?  ❞

❝  you ever wonder where the line is?  you know, between human and not?  ❞

❝  the funny thing i’ve noticed about war:  no matter how terrible the fighting is, there always seems to be too much waiting. too much quiet. too much sitting around, bored to tears between fits of chaos and violence, lost in routine while waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ❞

❝  a lot of people condemn them for that. we’re so sure we’d never resort to that—that we’d rather die than cross that unspoken boundary.  ❞

❝  i’ve been at the [workplace/institution] for ten years now. that’s long enough to know that the ones who ask questions are the ones who can’t cut it.  ❞

❝  the program blew every fuse in the lab. including the lights.  ❞

❝  it was soon after they left that i began to have trouble sleeping.  ❞

❝  perhaps we never knew each other as well as most friends do, but… we cared for one another.  ❞

❝  most of her questions are a bit above my pay grade.  ❞

❝  i’m trying, i’m trying! i can’t get the door open!  ❞

❝  i don’t know why she needed my help:  i think she had a better grasp of it than most science fiction writers.  ❞

❝  we both had places to be afterwards, so we kind of rushed. i really wish i’d taken the time to say goodbye.  ❞

❝  i guess some things just… don’t want to stay buried.  ❞

❝  it was completely against orders of course, but no one really noticed or cared that far from the front.  ❞

❝  i offered to buy him a cup of coffee.  ❞

❝  newspapers praised them at the time:  saw them as heroes of exploration and paragons of pioneer courage.  ❞

❝  i signed a lot of big, scary nda’s during my time there.  ❞

❝  i did the only thing that came to mind:  i took a grenade from my belt, removed the pin, and threw it.  ❞

❝  i doubt this storm will last more than a couple of days, and once it lets up we can sneak out of here and get going again. very, very carefully.  ❞

❝  given enough time, everything will rot away to its elementary components, and that, you can’t reverse.  ❞

❝  i really can’t see anything from inside the van.  ❞

❝  i knew there were a few experiments that dealt with some pretty high-level theoretical concepts, but i wasn’t directly involved with any of them.  ❞

❝  it’s a strange choice, but then again, he’s a strange man.  ❞

❝  i know, it sounds ridiculous. trust me, i’ve done everything i can think of to make that conclusion go away.  ❞

❝  scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of skiers, but they were nice enough to let me in after deciding i probably wasn’t a ghost.  ❞

❝  please… it burns my skin… please…  ❞

❝  i forgot how fast storms blow in up here.  ❞

❝  it’s not like i felt out of control:  it felt more natural than breathing.  ❞

❝  i didn’t know what i was doing, not at any conscious level. but one step seemed to lead to another, then the next, and then the next.  ❞

❝  it’s called a butcher’s shop in some places, but a mortuary in others. as much as i’d love to imply there was some sweeney todd style recycling going on here, i think the place has just been a lot of things over the years.  ❞

❝  god, these things are creepy as hell.  ❞

❝  if you wouldn’t mind, please, tell us what happened? in your own time, of course.  ❞

❝  it took a few long, nerve-wracking days to work up my courage and visit the section again.  ❞

❝  it’s not that odd to think that people ate each other out there.  ❞

❝  i didn’t think there was a ghost in my room or anything like that, i just kept hearing noises whenever i was about to fall asleep.  ❞

❝  i downed half a dozen energy drinks at 6 and called it dinner—i know, i know, it’s a nasty habit i picked up in grad school.  ❞

❝  they told me that the cpu and motherboard had somehow been melted into a solid lump of plastic and silicon.  ❞

❝  i mean, [name] was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t…  ❞

❝  my schedule was full, but i had something else fall through at the last minute. i had your number on my desk, so i thought i may as well call.  ❞

❝  i wonder if it was afraid, or if it even realized what was going to happen. it probably didn’t.  ❞

❝  i need to get more coffee. or punch someone. whichever’s more convenient.  ❞

❝  god, if that’s really how i sound…  ❞

❝  people think i write horror, but i don’t really think that’s true. i just write fiction with all of the comfortable little lies taken out of it.  ❞

❝  i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.  ❞

❝  i think he felt something about this place… some influence or power that needed to be destroyed, so he tried to do it the only way he knew how.  ❞

❝  well, it’s a tricky thing. the more realistic you make them, the more… unreal they start to look. i think it’s something about the eyes.  ❞

❝  i offered to stay late, just to smooth things over.  ❞

❝  maybe i can get some writing done while i’m stuck here…  ❞

❝  no child could grow up in a jewish home surrounded by books and not read at least one story about golems.  ❞

❝  i just wasn’t a good student, despite my love of reading.  ❞

❝  i have to say, i like your jane doe.  ❞

❝  she was a scientist herself.  maybe not formally, but her way of thinking, her insight, her methods... they were scientist’s qualities.  ❞

❝  seriously, what do i need to do to get a little privacy around here, a little dignity?  hang a  ‘ do not disturb ’  sign on the door?  change all my locks?  ❞

❝  maybe it was stupid, but i figured, ‘ hey, early december, not a cloud in the sky—should still be fine, right? ’  ❞

❝  jesus, [name], i wasn’t born yesterday.  ❞

❝  maybe doing this while it’s still dark outside isn’t the best idea.  ❞

❝  more than a century and a half have passed, and this place is still just as dangerous as it was then.  ❞

❝  now, [mr./ms./mx. name], i’m sure you know why you’re here.  ❞

❝  the [event] was a bust—only about a dozen people showed up all afternoon.  ❞

❝  i never put much stock in the idea of inspiration, but for the first time in my life, it felt like i wasn’t pushing myself through the muck of miscalculation and guesswork towards a solution. i was being pulled towards an answer that already existed.  ❞

❝  it felt like i was a few steps from finding out something fundamental. some truth about our universe that no other scientist had ever dared to dream of.  ❞

❝  huh. that’s… that’s weird. i could’ve sworn there wasn’t a sculpture back there before.  ❞

❝  apparently, no one had told them what i was doing, and i wasn’t actually cleared to leave.  ❞

❝  maybe he’s trying to make amends. keeping watch over these half-living things to make sure no harm comes to them.  ❞

❝  i expected the building to be wreathed in shadow and overgrown with cobwebs, but it's actually really nice.  ❞

❝  sorry, i was trying to get my recorder working, but it froze up on me so i had to find a tape for this old…  ❞

❝  okay. just… don’t get me sacked, alright?  can’t exactly retire on this salary.  ❞

❝  but if it was real—i don’t know if i somehow created it, or if it was feeding me information about itself before it appeared.  ❞

❝  i’ve never had a manic episode before, and i was well below the level of caffeine needed to cause intoxication. as far as i can tell, there isn’t a medical explanation for what happened.  ❞

❝  i don’t get the appeal of meeting real celebrities. it’s just a cheap shock of recognition, and nothing more.  ❞

❝  whatever this… thing was, it sounds pretty dangerous.  ❞

❝  are you familiar with temporal asymmetry?  ❞

❝  i just want to make that abundantly clear:  this /wasn’t/ the plan.  ❞

❝  right then, now let’s get started. please state your name and rank for the record.  ❞

❝  though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light.  ❞

❝  a cracker of a book, young lady.  ❞

❝  no wonder they’re keeping them in storage. they’d give anyone nightmares.  ❞

❝  i was just going to finish out my shift unless… you want me to stick around?  ❞

❝  i went to the university, but don’t remember much of the years i spent there.  ❞

❝  having to study textbooks and essays day in and day out took all of the joy out of reading for a long time.  ❞

❝  we call paradoxes paradoxes for a reason:  no matter how plausible they seem, they can never really happen.  ❞

❝  i don’t know what happened to me that night. i still don’t even know if what i saw was real.  ❞

❝  when we look into the void for too long, we find the monsters instead.  ❞

[odos-bucket]

So I was reading @andillwriteyouatragedy​‘s incredible Brand New Day where Bruce and Clark adopt a young Dick Grayson together, and was thinking about a sort of companion story where they take in Jason together too. Using that story as a rough reference, I’m gonna say they’ve been together for a decade or so here. Dick is somewhere in his late teens. I’m figuring Clark probably offers to tag along on Bruce’s annual trip to crime alley every year. Bruce always politely declines. It’s basically become a part of the day’s bleak tradition. Clark is surprised when for once his offer is accepted. Later on, if pressed, neither of them would be able to pinpoint what was different about that night that made Bruce decide that it might be okay to have some company for once. Clark probably feels weird about it at first. Even though he’d asked Bruce if he wanted company, and Bruce had said yes, which he never would have unless he’d absolutely meant it (and Clark knows that). It still feels a little like he’s intruding on something private, even sacred. Then of course they get there, and there’s nothing going on. Superman’s senses don’t pick up the slightest hint of disruption anywhere in the neighborhood. Maybe they start patrolling around it anyways, maybe they just wander for a couple of blocks. Sooner or later they overhear someone talking about how it’s this night every year that Batman comes calling. Local criminals have picked up on the fact that if they just keep their heads down for this one specific night they can pretty much avoid him. Bruce is all grumbly about it, and immediately goes into ~strategy mode~ like, “Okay, I’ll have to start coming here on different days, on an irregular schedule.” He immediately opens up a dozen different tabs in his brain with calendars, and crime statistics, and is thinking a mile a minute, because that’s what he does. He’s kind of agitated about needing to change something that’s been a ritual for so long (because Batman has OCD, fight me) and he’s annoyed at himself for being bothered by it. Absolutely none of this sudden inner turmoil is detectable in his expression or body language. But Clark knows Bruce, knows how he reacts to things, and that there’s no way he’s not annoyed right now. He says, “Sounds like tonight will be a bust if we stay here,” then when Bruce grunts in response, continues, “We could go back to the manor. Watch a movie.” Then after a pause. “Or we could patrol somewhere else.” A moment passes. When Bruce says, “Okay,” Clark isn’t sure which suggestion he’s agreeing to, but they start back towards the car. It’s not a long walk, but they aren’t moving particularly quickly. By the time they get back to the batmobile it only has one wheel.

Clark frowns as he walks closer, before being stopped in his tracks by a surprising sound. It’s a sound that he recognizes immediately, that he hears all too infrequently. Bruce is laughing. Clark’s mouth quirks into a half smile. He takes a few steps forward, thinking about just picking the whole thing up and flying it back home. Then from a few paces ahead he hears Bruce’s low, gravelly Batman voice say, “Hi there.” Once he’s tuned in to the idea of another presence nearby, it becomes obvious to his advanced senses that someone is lurking behind the car. “Shit,” a small voice says. Bruce takes a few steps closer. “Planning on finishing the job?” He gestures to their remaining wheel. Clark shifts until he can get the kid partially in his sight without the aid of x-ray vision. He’s small, and looks to be somewhere in his pre-teens. “I got no idea what you’re talking about,” he says quickly. “Oh really?” Bruce asks. The boy glares at him. “Nice tire iron,” Bruce continues. “Comes in handy.” “I bet it does.” No sooner than the words are out of Bruce’s mouth, the tool is colliding with his shin. The boy shoots out from behind the car, and down a nearby street. Clark starts toward Bruce, who quickly gestures for him to go after the kid instead. He catches up with him in less than a second. When his hand falls onto the kid’s shoulder he freezes, muscles tightening throughout his body, and heart rate speeding up rapidly. The fear response is so sudden and extreme that Clark finds himself pulling away as if he’s been burned. The anxiety around being feared is something he’s mostly left in his past, but there’s a deep rooted insecurity within him that it still prods at. The kid stumbles when he starts to run again, and by then Bruce has caught up. They hang back, but trail after the boy at a distance, until they reach a condemned building a few blocks away. “Should we go in?” Clark asks. “Probably where my tires are,” Bruce says, before climbing through an uncovered doorway. It isn’t hard to find him again. There aren’t too many heartbeats in the area to distinguish between. When Bruce opens the door to the dilapidated room, the boy’s pulse rate jumps through the roof. Nothing changes externally about him though, and Clark wonders whether or not Bruce can tell that he’s afraid of them. There’s the slightest vibration to his words when he speaks. “Okay, take your stupid tires already. I’m sorry, all right? Just leave me alone!” Bruce isn’t looking at his tires. He’s looking around the room, no doubt noticing the same things that Clark has, mold, water damage, a broken window. The place is freezing. Then in the corner there’s a cardboard box with some pasta and canned goods in it, a small stack of books, and a mattress on the floor. “Do you… live here?” Bruce asks. “Yeah. What of it?” Bruce takes a few more steps into the room. “Where are your parents, son?” Clark asks. “Mom’s dead. I dunno where Dad is; don’t really care, if I’m being honest. Now take your stuff and go already!” He’s holding the iron up again, wielding it in a manner that’s clearly meant to be threatening. Bruce plucks it out of his hands with relative ease, inspects it, then turns it around and hands it back. “Move your thumb up like this, and you’ll have a sturdier grip. And don’t stand with your legs so far apart, it’ll put you off balance.” He sighs. “What’s your name?” “… Jason.” He grabs the tire iron back, shuffling to adjust his grip and footing, keeping his stance defensive. Bruce looks around the place again. “You can’t stay here, Jason.” “Oh yeah? Says who? I can take care of myself! Been doing it for long enough.” Bruce glances up at Clark, who can see the wheels turning in his head, before looking back at Jason. “I’d really like the wheels of my car back,” he says carefully, then hurries to continue before Jason can interject. “Can I make you a deal? We’ll buy you dinner if you reattach the batmobile’s tires?”

There’s a fast food place a couple of blocks away that’s open 24 hours. Jason agrees to accompany them, but walks a few yards behind. The employees at the place aren’t at all phased by the appearance of the two vigilantes. Bruce inspects a suspicious stain on one of the walls, while Jason and Clark look at the menu posted above the counter. They order- Bruce gets two of what Jason asks for- then go outside to eat. Bruce is lost in thought as they exit the restaurant, wondering what it would take to bring free food trucks to the area. Jason’s halfway done with his meal by the time they sit down on the sidewalk. “Do you go to school around here?” Bruce asks, wanting to put together a fuller picture of the boy’s situation. Jason gets a distant look in his eyes in response to the question. He finishes chewing slowly, swallows, then shakes his head, clearing his throat before replying. “No. Not for a long time now.” He shrugs. “I got all I needed to out of it.” “You had some pretty advanced reading material back at your place for someone who didn’t finish middle school.” Bruce recalled seeing The Odyssey amongst his few possessions, as well as a couple of Shakespeare plays. Jason shrugs again. “Reading’s not that hard.” “Some people find it very difficult,” Clark says. “Some people are stupid.” Bruce cuts in before Clark can start on the gentle reprimand he can see him preparing. “Ever think that maybe you’re just smart?” Jason gives him a curious look, like that really wasn’t a possibility that he had considered before, then takes another bite, and stares off thoughtfully. “So, Homer,” Bruce prompts. Jason nods. “It’s a fun story. Odi-seuss is a dick though.” Bruce resists both the compulsion to correct his pronunciation of ‘Odysseus’, and Alfred’s voice in the back of his head urging him to tell the kid not to swear. “What makes you say that?” He asks instead. Jason looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe all the pillaging, and murdering he does throughout the entire book.” “Poem,” Bruce corrects. “What?” “The Odyssey is a poem.” “Wait, really?” Bruce hums an affirmative. “Huh… cool. But the point still stands.” “I’m inclined to agree with you. Have you ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel?” Jason shakes his head. “It’s been a personal favorite for a long time,” says Bruce. Clark shoots him an amused grin. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone throwing out a copy,” Jason says. Bruce frowns. “You have a library around here.” The remark earns him an unamused snort. “It’s a Gotham library; people don’t go there to read books, they go there to buy, sell and/or ingest drugs, and they tend not to be too happy with anybody who’s lingering around while they’re doing it.” Bruce feels a pang, not for the first time that night. “Jason,” he starts, before realizing he isn’t sure what to say. Jason keeps angled to watch him expectantly as he rises to deposit his napkins and bag in a nearby trashcan. “We’d like to help you,” Clark says. “Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “Right. Just how do you plan on doing that? Because I’ve heard that before. I’ve done the whole foster care thing already, and I’m not about to go through it again.” “No,” Bruce is quick to agree. “But there are residential schools in the city. We could help you to get enrolled in one.” Jason seems taken aback by the offer. “…Why?” He asks slowly. “Well for one, because kids should be in school. You’d be provided with room and board for the duration of your time there, which would leave you with less to worry about.” He reaches out to pass Jason the second takeout bag. He’s still lingering at a distance from them. “At least think about it?” “No. I mean, like, why?” Bruce’s eyebrow raises, tugging at the material of his cowl. “What’s in this for you?” Jason continues. “Why do you even care?” “It’s our job,” Clark says. “You’re job is to beat up bad guys.” Clark smiles when Jason mimes punching someone, before saying, “Our job is to help people.” Jason purses his lips. “Don’t boarding schools cost money?” “Most of them offer scholarships,” Bruce says. “I have a few friends who are deans. I could make the necessary introductions to ensure you a place at one of their institutions.“ Jason’s arms are crossed high over his chest, and his expression is set like he’s deep in thought. “I don’t want to end up stuck somewhere where someone else is the boss of me.” “How about you at least come with us to check a couple of these places out,” Bruce suggests. “Just see how you feel about them. No commitment.” Jason’s nose scrunches up. “Where exactly are these places?” He asks. “It varies,” Bruce says. “All within the city.” They watch the boy chew on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Just to see,” he says eventually. Bruce nods. “I’m not getting into a car with you,” Jason adds. “We can take the bus,” Clark offers. Jason raises an eyebrow at that, and his mouth quirks almost into a smile. “Batman and Superman are gonna ride on Gotham’s shitty public transit?” “Why not?” Clark asks. “… Okay,” Jason says, still plainly unconvinced. “Let’s meet back here,” Bruce suggests. “Tomorrow?” Jason takes a minute, but eventually starts to nod. “Sure,” he says. “Why not.” They part ways after Clark disposes of his empty bag. The heroes return to their car.

While they’re driving back Clark says, “I know that look.” Bruce pauses to take stock of his own expression, and makes sure to neutralize anything on his face that might be out of the ordinary. Clark continues, unbothered by the lack of response. “It’s your ‘I’m already deeply emotionally invested in this kid’ look.” Bruce hums noncommittally. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Clark adds. Bruce doesn’t either, but that’s par for the course at this point.

Part Two

[mndvx]

please enlighten me as to how much this episode sucked 🤭 bc from what i'm reading, it was even worse than last week

Turns out we finally found which episode of Titans is the worst!! (So far, at least.)

I have a feeling that the finale will be the most absolute insane pile of dog shit this show has ever had. And it's had a lot lately!! They really baited us into thinking there was a slight chance of it being good with the first four episode. I'm so mad.

Last week was a filler episode. And it was bad. But they really outdid themselves with this one, it's... yeah it's the worst episode of Titans, so far.

The GCPD is incompetent, that we already knew. So it's not really surprising when Random Nameless Cop #4 ends up being easily bought by Jason/Crane after we saw him have a little feely chat with Barbs about someone he knew dying from the fear induced riots or whatever

but before that, Crane sends all of gotham a little fanvid he made in his garage using footage from episode 1, not in any way shot differently, it's just episode 1 intro fight against Gizmo Guys copy pasted with a few flashing random buzz words, like "thief" "con-man" or whatever and him narrating about how the titans are bad guys and the reason why gotham's water is poisoned and says he put a bounty of 500K on the titans dead or alive. We get a little montage of every main character seeing the vid. With Conner and Komand'r spooning together in the living room d'aww and Gar reading up on Lazarus Pits then having a little DCney Prince moment with the bats in the cave before Kory comes in to tell him about the video.

So with that, what does Dick do? First he tells Barbara he's gonna fix this(tm) then he goes back to the batcave (off screen) and i guess tells the rest of the team (off screen) to get into a parking lot or something?? where they get surrounded by dozens of people and like... Fight four of them before Dick tells them to come back??? Also, at some point during this Dick is like "Me staying here, it's a mistake I should be with you guys" and Kory tells him "No! You got a bounty on your head, it's safer" so why is Gar not staying in the cave with him, he's not invincible either!!

Meanwhile, Donna is taking a taxi to get back to Gotham, because I guess she can't teleport anymore, that must've been some of that Purgatory juice that sent her from Themyscira to that other Wayne Manor to save Bruce (who we hear NOTHING about. I mean good, we're not here for him, but she literally just stopped him from kiling himself in another country and now she's on the way to Gotham all alone... That's weird

Same thing about Tim, we saw him come back from the dead last week, but he's nonexistent in this episode. No one, not a single person all titans included, even speaks about him or even vaguely mentions him being shot or asks if he's okay or anything.

and then that random Lydia amazon shows up saying she's been following Donna "for 10 minutes" which is really weird, because Donna definitely was moving for longer than ten minutes, i mean she was IN ANOTHER COUNTRY, so how the fuck did you show up specifically on that road to Gotham just ten minutes ago, CAN YOU TELEPORT LYDIA??? I guess she can because then she slams Donna down and she wakes up in some random woods she calls "The Training Grounds" like it means something. blablabla this is the B Plot i guess? It's dumb, it's pointless. It's Lydia fighting Donna for way too long, some random shit about Lydia's daughter Angela dying and how she's sad or whatever who cares, then telling Donna she has to rise, she was born to lead people etc etc (can you tell how hard they're trying to make a spin off happen?) before Donna can finally go back to going to Gotham (no she doesn't get reunited with the team.)

Dick and Babs meet in a bar for some reason, random pointless and annoying reminiscing about their past before Dick tells her he's gonna turn himself in as Nightwing, pay bail then vanish from Gotham so the people can supposedly keep faith in the GCPD and not turn against them?? idk, if Nightwing vanished like that right after being caught by them, I wouldn't trust them to protect me but that's just me!

Jason and Crane have a weird and cringey chat (again. they had one before as he prepared his fanvid, talking about... Breakfast?? Jason was annoyed and didn't get the point of it, same) and he goes on this rant about how Jason needs to believe in himself and all that, makes him go "Red Hood!! Say it with me! Red Hood!" for like... what felt like at least a whole minute before he suits back up and goes back to being the murderous little shit he CHOSE to be, Molly calls him and asks him to stop he says no i have to </3 (you don't dumbass)

Dick tells everyone his plan, they all eventually agree because that's totally not gonna go wrong 🙄🙄 so they suit up and go to the GCPD to make a little show of their surrender. The cop that was bought out apparently has a lot of friends bc most of the cops present during the thing start acting up and one of them pushes Komand'r first (geoff johns, i'm in your walls with a knife) which is only so Conner can go "HEY BACK OFF 😠😠" before they then start attacking everyone. You already saw Kom gets shot, so yeah... That happens. Con stopped one bullet and stood there just 🖐🏻😠 while another was shot and hit Komand'r in the stomach or something, the most boring fight scene ensues (gar gets shirtless yay! sorry.) Barbara kills the cop who had his gun drawn on Dick and she's later on arrested by Vee for it, which... what the fuck??

so everyone left after the whole boring fight, separating and hiding. Kory and Kom go to a church where Kory decides to use her powers to try and heal the bullet wound that is KILLING her sister, and Komand'r somehow (unconsciously) absorbs all of Kory's powers, which makes Kory mad and go on a whole thing wondering if this was her plan all along, making Kory care for her so she could betray her or something. Komand'r says it's not the case and asks what will it cost for Kory to trust her etc. (honestly this whole episode is badly written, but 🥺🥺 Kory admitted she cared about Kom). then they have another argument, because Kory wants to return to the Titans and help them, but Komand'r tells her they should leave and go somewhere alone the two of them, and that Kory is a queen and was never meant to be fighting a war that's not hers and they then separate because Kory is not going anywhere. Komand'r then leaves, Kory asks where she's going and Kom tells her she's not "the only one with unfinished business" which... what? So yeah, now Komand'r has Kory's full set of powers and Kory is COMPLETELY depowered. 

And then we have a little montage of the city going to shit and full chaos, with Barbara being arrested for killing that other cop. Donna beats up a soldier who wouldn't let her come in Gotham. Because of course she comes back when everything's gone to shit, how convenient.

Gar is all alone in an empty warehouse type of place, after having been shot with a tranquilizer dart while the whole fight in the GCPD happened, (which was like half a day ago, idk how animal tranquilizer work but that must be strong stuff because he's still a little knocked out from it) he sees a raven that then turns into our beloved little Rachel!!! She tells him she found him because she felt his energy, and they have a quick recap chat where he tells her Jason and Crane turned the city into chaos she doesn't react in any particular way, so i guess she knows Jason is evil? whatever. the good thing about this scene is Rachel using her powers!! (and Ryan Potter's abs)

Then we see Dick and Conner on their own, with Conner insisting they need to go out there and help people but Dick being the dumbfuck he is tells Conner they can't, that they need to stay hidden and not be caught, so going back to Wayne Manor is also out of the question. But CONNER IS INVINCIBLE!!!!! FOR FUCK'S SAKE GRAYSON!!!!

And for our last scenes, Jason and Crane are in Wayne Manor. He makes Jason destroy a painting of Bruce and his parents because of course you have redecorate the place now that it's yours, Jason has quick flashbacks of his conversation with Bruce in Crime Alley in the shitty episode all about Jay and angrily stabs the painting like 20 times?? And Crane actually says "Welcome to Crane Manor", it wasn't just the synopsis being cringe!

ANYWAY. TERRIBLE FUCKING BAD EPISODE.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Time for the rest of the first challenge. Event. Whatever. Words hard.

[No. 26 - Chase Down The Leader]

We flashback just a minute or so from where we left off, in order to see just how Izuku pulled off his impressive launch across the field. He stands at the start of the minefield, watching other students pick their way through - and occasionally setting off mines with missteps - while having a veritable mumblefest over the mines and the general issue of trying to pick past them. 

The general gist of the mumbling: The mines are the type that blow up when stepped on, and aren’t that strong, but can throw a student off enough to possibly cause a chain reaction and lose them a lot of time. It’s better to go slow to avoid damage, even for leaping types, and trying to slow others is a guaranteed time loss. Izuku then analyzes the field in front of him, noting the spots people avoid and that most students will be most on guard at the entrance, which means there are plenty of mines left for his plan so long as they stay frosty. 

Izuku puts his armor plate to work digging up mines, muttering about how anti-personnel mines should only be 14 centimeters or so deep (about 6 inches). Jirou, just making her way into the field and using her quirk to… I guess disable mines in front of her? Anyway, she actually notices Izuku is up to something and asks what he’s doing, though I think it’s not one she expects to get answered. In short order, Izuku has a pile of about a dozen mines, and mentally claims he’s taking a page from Kacchan’s book. Meanwhile, Present Mic announces Shouto and Katsuki are still in the lead, and that they’re about to cross the finish line.

Not for long, though, as Izuku names his adhoc maneuver ‘great blasting turbo speed’, throwing himself on top of his armor sheet and onto the pile of mines, launching him over the field and right towards the two leading the pack. Pretty much everyone hesitates or stops to stare for a moment, shook by the sheer brass balls it had to take to literally blow yourself sky high. The two most shook, of course, are Shouto and Katsuki, who only just start moving again when Izuku actually flies ahead of them, forgoing their fight in order to catch back up.

Izuku considers the whole experience intense, and is even more focused now that he’s managed to gain the lead. However, there’s one huge issue - he didn’t think far enough ahead to consider how he was going to land. As if that’s not enough, Katsuki is throwing himself forward with more explosions, screaming at ‘Deku’ to get back there (presumably to fight). Shouto’s not far behind, giving up keeping the others hindered in exchange for the speed he gets from icing over the field ahead of him - he doesn’t have time to worry about those behind him now.

Present Mic announces the temporary ceasefire between the two in order to chase down Izuku, and how when a common enemy appears, people stop fighting - then tacks on that, well, actually they’re still fighting, just not each other. Aizawa wonders what his friend is even trying to say. 

Izuku starts floating away from his armor sheet, the larger surface area causing it to stall and slow faster then he is. He grabs onto one of the wires as he recognizes this, and that if he loses time on his landing, passing the two again will be impossible. As the two just start to rush past him, Izuku swears mentally, telling himself to not let go - while he’s still ahead, this is his only chance. So, if passing them is impossible, then he has to maintain the lead. 

Somehow, he manages to flip in the air, using the momentum to bring the armor plate swinging around and into the ground right between the two, the pressure enough to set off several more mines. The two are forced to stop from the resulting explosion, while Izuku’s newfound momentum throws him readily ahead. 

As he falls into a duck and roll, Present Mic announces how Izuku blows off the competition with no time to lose. He goes on to marvel at Aizawa’s class, wondering what he’s teaching the kids. Aizawa says it’s not his doing, and that they’ve been spurring each other on all on their own. Present Mic rolls on with his commentary, asking who could have predicted such an incredible turn of events? Aizawa asks if he’s being ignored as Present Mic announces the first one back to the stadium:

Midoriya Izuku. The crowds go absolutely wild. Outside the stadium, Death Arms recognizes Izuku as the kid from a year ago. At home, Inko falls off the couch sobbing while repeatedly stumbling over Izuku’s name. In an unknown location, Shigaraki watches on while scratching idly at his neck. 

Izuku looks around the stadium while breathing heavily, eventually looking at one spot in particular. Somehow, he’s found Toshinori in the stands, and the two have a Moment™ from across the stadium. 

These fucking two, man. 

While Izuku is trying to keep himself from crying, the other students start making their way across the finish line as well. 

Toshinori thinks about how Izuku has the spirit of a savior hero to the core, but the sports festival is a competition that tests the exact opposite of that - your willingness to take down the enemy. Heroes nowadays depend on popular opinion so much. So many selfishly seek to beat everyone else. But that’s not Izuku - and that’s why Toshinori chose him, even as he thoughts that lack of selfishness would be his one weakness. He claps in the stands, happy to have been proved wrong and mentally apologizing for doubting him, even as he laments Izuku’s crying habits.

Some business students nearby catch Toshinori’s attention, mostly due to them discussing Izuku’s potential and how they’d market him. They talk about how Izuku’s stock is about to rise, but it’s hard to say what’s still in store for him since he didn’t show his quirk. They then start speculating about how a hero agency would market him if they took it on, with one pointing out how he’s not much to look at, so they’re have to push his skills and his unique, almost artistic sensibilities. When the resources you need aren’t there… Well, we don’t hear how that gets handled, but Toshinori does note how some things never change.

We get a brief narrative insert about the business course, most notably how they have nothing to gain by directly competing in the sports festival. Instead, they hone their skills as salespeople and run business simulations. 

Back with the hero students, we see Katsuki and Shouto both catching their breath. Katsuki is furious at Izuku once again managing to wrangle a win right from under him, while Shouto is just staring after Izuku silently. Present Mic announces more racers reaching the finish line, and that the standings will be gone over later, so the students can catch their breath for now.

Ochako and Tenya make their way over to Izuku. Ochako calls Izuku’s strategy awesome, while Tenya is in despair over losing a race with his quirk, stating that he still has progress to make. Ochako states that she’s jealous of Izuku’s first place; Izuku flushes and hides his face behind his arms, stating that it wasn’t that impressive, and was still too close. Internally, he laments that he just got lucky, that all his chance strategies happened to work. They say it’s awesome, but it was just a lucky break, and that the real test of skill starts now.

Anyways, Midnight announces the end of the race, and we get the results:

Midoriya Izuku

Todoroki Shouto

Bakugou Katsuki

Shiozaki Ibara

Honenuki Juuzou

Iida Tenya

Tokoyami Fumikage

Sero Hanta

Kirishima Eijirou

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

Ojiro Mashirao

Awase Yosetsu

Asui Tsuyu

Shouji Mezou

Satou Rikidou

Uraraka Ochako

Yaoyorozu Momo

Mineta Minoru

Ashido Mina

Kouda Kouji

Jirou Kyouka

Kaibara Sen

Tsuburaba Kosei

Kaminari Denki

Bondo Kojiro

Yanagi Reiko

Shinsou Hitoshi

Kendo Itsuka

Shishida Jurota

Kuroiro Shihai

Kodai Yui

Rin Hiryu

Shouda Nirengeki

Komori Kinoko

Kamakiri Togaru

Monoma Neito

Tsunotori Pony

Hagakure Touru

Tokage Setsuna

Fukidashi Manga

Hatsume Mei

Aoyama Yuuga

I wasn’t able to find this list in word form anywhere online, so I made it myself. You’re welcome. I also calculated the points each of them had going into the second event, but I’m not gonna worry about that here. I’ll do individual and team points when we actually get to the teams. That way, we’ll know who has which teams’ headbands at the end!

Moving on with the chapter. Midnight announces that the top 42 from the qualifying round will move on, conveniently just including every hero student as well as the two non-hero students who managed to place higher. For those who placed lower, the sports festival will have another way for them to show their stuff!

(Not that we see said show, which I mean, makes sense narratively speaking, but also…)

[I was going to insert the server discussion about my thoughts on the arbitrary cut-off point here, but it’s getting long enough to merit its own post at this point. So look forward to that whenever it goes up!]

Anyways, Midnight continues on, explaining that now the main selection really begins, and that the press corp is going to be jumping out of their seats, so the students should give it all they’ve got. Now, onto the second event, which she already knows - which confirms these are predetermined by UA and they just do the randomizer for the sake of the crowds. Said event is… 

the cavalry battle!

Kaminari is nervous at that, thinking about how he’s going to suck. Mineta is also looking concerned. Tsuyu notes they’re teaming up, but how, exactly? Midnight explains with a neat little graphic:

Basically, participants get in teams of two to four, and get into a horse-and-rider formation. The rules are the same as your regular cavalry battle - snag the opponent’s headbands while guarding your own - but with a twist. Each student has an assigned value based on their placement in the race. 

Sato notes that it sounds like the points in the entrance exam, so it sounds simple. Hagakure comments on how this means the point value of each team is based on its members. Midnight snaps and cracks her whip at the students that she’s about to explain, so they should shut up already. 

Individual point values start at five, at the bottom, so the student in 42nd place is forth five, 41st is worth ten, etc etc. However, the first place participant - that is, Izuku - is instead worth a whole ten million points.

That, my friends, is the face of someone realized they done fucked up.

Basically all the students stare down Izuku as he goes stiff from the internal panicking. Shinsou and Hatsume seem to be shown particular interest in it. Midnight finishes the chapter by noting that the higher-ranked students are the ones to aim for, and that this survival game is a chance for a comeback. It’s anyone’s game!

And with that, we end chapter 26… and volume three. Which means bonus content will be coming soon! See y’all then, and we’ll be back with more sports festival action in the next volume. 

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,402

Chapter Warnings: swearing, referenced (temporary) character death, slight manipulation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur tours the stronghold, meets DreamXD, and watches Tommy and Techno move a few very reluctant inches closer to reconciliation.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Fourteen: wipe the dirt off of your hands (ii)

Phil and Technoblade found the server’s stronghold. Because of course they did. Nevermind that the End is closed off here, the one rule of this server that hasn’t been broken and flaunted in front of everyone’s faces. The one rule that might actually sort of mean something. But evidently it doesn’t mean enough, because Phil and Techno not only found the stronghold, but decided to use it for a secret anarchy base.

When he voices all of this aloud, Phil just shrugs.

“Techno won me over to the whole anarchy thing, a bit,” he says, completely unrepentant. “We wanted a base, and the stronghold was literally right there. Not like anyone else was using it.”

“I really feel like that’s not the point,” Ranboo says weakly. He understands the significance, apparently. “Phil, even I know what a stronghold is.”

“Okay, it’s not nearly as big of a deal as you two are making it out to be,” Phil says, even though he is wrong, completely dead-wrong. “Just, c’mon, I’ll show you how we get there.” He starts walking, heading for the door, and he and Ranboo are given no choice but to follow. “We found an old library in it, lots of books in surprisingly good condition, considering. I haven’t even begun to go through them all. I’m thinking if it’s information on ancient, slightly eldritch beings we’re looking for, that’s our best bet in finding anything.”

“Right,” he says. “Sure. Why not?” He hopes Phil can hear the utter frustration in his voice. The smirk directed his way tells him that Phil did, indeed, hear it. Bastard.

But there’s nothing to do but go with him, at this point. It’s not like he’s going to pass up the chance to see one of these; he’s been in strongholds before, of course, but this feels like it holds more significance, somehow, on a server where the End is forbidden to all. Phil leads them through a convoluted series of passages, hitting buttons that reveal secret doors, and there’s a long hallway of ice, and then more buttons, and the air gets cooler and cooler, musty and still. Old. Tense. Like the rock itself is waiting.

And then, Phil opens up one final door, and a different hallway greets them. One crafted with intent, not carved carelessly out of stone. Bricks placed purposefully, rough though the detailing now is, and the air is stale here, and strangely damp. They’re underwater, then, and he casts Phil a glance. He seems unconcerned, and Wilbur chooses to believe that means that the roof won’t cave in under the pressure of the ocean above.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in one of these,” Ranboo says. His voice is hushed, quiet, almost awestruck.

“It’s not much,” Phil says with a shrug. “Normally wouldn’t bother with it, in a server like this, but like I said, Techno and I wanted a base, and it happened to be close. Not much of use here, but there is a library. More cobwebs than books by now, but a lot of what’s left seems legible, at least. I haven’t gone through most of it. Here, this way.”

Phil keeps walking, and for a moment, Ranboo doesn’t follow. He looks a bit taken aback, perhaps by Phil’s casual attitude toward a place that in any other circumstance, to any other person, might be something approaching sacred.

Wilbur sighs.

“Phil’s just like that,” he murmurs. “Plus, he’s been on dozens of servers. Seen dozens of these. And he’s ancient, too, so there’s that.” He goes along after Phil, and Ranboo, after a second of hesitation, hurries to catch up with him.

“How ancient are we talking here?” he asks.

Wilbur feels his lips twitch upward. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked for the exact number,” he says. “Centuries, at least. Maybe a few millennia. No one really quite knows what Phil is. I’m not sure he knows himself.” He shrugs. “Growing up, he was always just our dad. That was enough.”

“Oh.” Ranboo chews on that for a moment, and then nods. “Okay then. That actually explains a couple of things.”

He hums. “How did you come to live by him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, well, it was after—you know about Doomsday, right? I mean—”

(destruction raining from the sky and the terrifying shriek of withers and his home is gone the history is gone and Friend, Friend is gone, his dearest Friend and Phil knew, he knew, he knew and he did it anyway but only a few minutes later the memory is gone because he does not want to remember this and it is a blessing, being able to forget, because what use is carrying pain that he can do nothing about, what use is holding it close and letting it make a monster of him because even dead he cannot manage to ask for help must keep up the facade but at least let it be a happy one)

(and yet looking back on it, looking back on it now, he feels barely any anger at all. like son, like father, after all)

He smiles tightly. “I know about Doomsday,” he agrees, and then tilts his head. “That’s right, you were—you were living in L’Manberg at the time, weren’t you? I—Ghostbur saw you there.”

“Yeah, I lived there,” Ranboo says. “Right up until it turned into a crater, I guess. But, um, after all of that, Phil knew that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so—I don’t know, I guess he felt bad for me or something? He invited me to stay up here with him and Techno, and I guess I never really left.”

That’s such a uniquely Phil thing to do. Destroy a country, then pick up one of the kids he rendered homeless. Wilbur can imagine exactly how that went.

“Well, I hope you know that you’re not likely to be rid of him now,” he says, and then the two of them step around the corner, and right across the way, there is an open doorway, and even from here, he can see the rows upon rows of bookshelves, some of them half-empty and all of them covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. He glances at Ranboo one last time, and then the two of them step into the room.

He is not one for claustrophobia,

(was not, though now tight spaces and dark rooms remind him of one place and one place only)

but the room feels close, crowded, the shelves towering over him, and even over Ranboo, who has more than a foot of height on him, tall and lanky and half-ender as he is. And more than that, the room feels old, feels weighty, moreso even than the rest of the stronghold, because here are books that must have been written hundreds of years ago, before the server passed into Dream’s hands, that have not been touched since, that have been left to gather dust and mold in an ancient ruin under the sea. In these books are the words of people who came years before him, their words reaching out to grasp the long arm of the future, and it is nothing that he has not seen before, but he never gets used to it. He is no scholar, really, no Technoblade, but he can appreciate this for what it is, can appreciate the history here, the circle that never ends.

(he has always fancied himself as part of a story, has always been able to look outside of himself to see what role the history books will have him play. moments like this only make him more aware of it, more aware that someday, he will be long in the ground and only his words will live on, his words and the words of others, a legacy, a garden growing and fed on the dust that was once him)

(it should already be so. stories are not supposed to be picked up after the last thread is snipped and yet here he is, and the whole narrative has been thrown into disarray)

Phil’s head peers out around one of the shelves.

“Took you long enough,” he says. “We can start anywhere, I suppose. I didn’t get around to cataloging any of this shit, so your guess is as good as mine as to where the important stuff is.”

“Great,” Ranboo says, sounding thoroughly unenthusiastic. “I love having absolutely no idea what we’re looking for.”

“We have to start somewhere,” he says, though looking at the shelves around them, he thinks that Ranboo might have a point. But nonetheless, he grabs a random book off the nearest shelf and opens it, frowning at the mold that dots the pages. But as Phil said, it’s legible, and his eyes scan over faded words, printed in an older dialect that’s just barely understandable.

They split up, each taking a different section. But it only takes a few hours for Wilbur to get frustrated. He’s more patient than this, normally, unless that’s another aspect of himself that he lost somewhere along the line. But he thinks he’s justified—perhaps under normal circumstances, they would have all the time in the world to find the information they need. In normal circumstances, a strategy like this would work. But they don’t have that kind of time. And they especially don’t have that kind of time to search for knowledge that may not even be here at all.

He snaps the book he’s leafing through shut and stands.

“I’m stretching my legs,” he calls, and doesn’t wait for an answer before striding out of the room. Too late, he remembers that they’re still underground, underwater, and the air outside of the library is barely any fresher than the air inside, which does not improve his mood. But a walk might help clear his head, so a walk is what he takes, wandering the corridors as he did in the castle earlier, that same restlessness returning.

It all comes down to a feeling of helplessness, in the end, of powerlessness. He was powerless to stop the Egg. Powerless to save Techno, and then later, powerless to help him. And he is powerless now, skimming through century-old books with barely a hope of a payoff. And yet, it’s all he can do, is the best plan they have, and how is it possible that this is the best plan they have?

He used to be good at this. He has been presenting himself as good at this, pulled on his old general’s strength to present confidence to the others, surety. And yet, here they are, and it’s too soon to give up, he knows, but it’s been a few hours and they have found nothing, and he can’t help but feel like they’re going to continue to find nothing.

You are nothing, and you may as well give it up, give in, throw away yourself for a chance of saving what little you have not already lost, something whispers, and it is not him, and there is translucent red lining the edges of his vision, for if you pass up this chance, who do you have to blame but yourself?

“Shut up,” he mutters. “Shut the fuck up. You’re thousands of chunks away, shut up.”

Distance is no matter to one such as I, and you ought to know better than to hope for it, it says. You ought to know better than to hope for a great many things. Powerless as you are, why not take into your hands the only choice you have left to you, take back your peace and save your brother, save them all from the encroaching choke, save them all and yourself most of—

He steps into another room, and the voice abruptly stops, leaving his head blessedly silent. He catches himself holding his breath, and he releases it all at once.

And then realizes what he’s seeing. It’s a meeting room, clearly, decorated far beyond what an untouched stronghold would look like, and this has Phil’s interior design choices stamped all over it, but—

They’re using the End Portal as a table.

Because that is undoubtedly the End Portal. Even if he hadn’t seen one before, once or twice, on different servers, he would be able to recognize the blocks for what they are: something other, something that belongs to a different place entirely. They fill the room with a low, buzzing hum, and underneath that, there is a melody hovering just beyond his perception, a melody that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. He hums, trying to match the notes, and finds that he can’t, that he always lands above or below no matter what pitch he vocalizes. And yet, even still, there is something about it that is eerily comforting.

Perhaps it is simply the way the Egg fell silent as soon as he stepped inside. He appreciates that.

But still. They’re using it as a table.

“Do you like the décor?” Phil asks, amusement clear in his tone. Wilbur doesn’t turn to look at him, but Phil comes up beside him soon enough, and Ranboo trails behind, staring at the portal with wide eyes.

“Is nothing sacred to you?” he asks, and the teasing note comes out naturally.

“Eh,” Phil says, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “You know how it is.”

“I know what that is,” Ranboo says, sounding far, far away. “I know—I know this, I—why do I—?”

(a question: if he could sense the music, human and just barely void-touched as he is, then what must it sound like to one who has the End itself in his veins?)

Ranboo takes one step forward, and then another, until he’s standing right next to the portal-table. One hand hovers above it, and he hesitates before placing it down. Wilbur glances to Phil, wondering if this is a thing they should be stopping, but Phil is staring at Ranboo, head tilted and eyes slightly narrow.

“Have you never seen one of these before?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Ranboo says, still distant. “Maybe? I don’t think I remember. But I—I don’t know where I come from, but this feels like—”

“Well, it is an End Portal,” Phil agrees. “I wasn’t sure if it was still functional, but I guess that answers that question. You’re probably sensing something from it that we’re not picking up on, with you being half-ender and all.”

“I guess—”

“Why wouldn’t it be functional?” Wilbur interrupts. Maybe that’s not what he should’ve gotten out of that, but he’s satisfied that this is an enderman thing, not something to be concerned over. But that offhand remark, said in that infuriatingly casual way that Phil so often has, draws his attention, because he’s never heard of a non-functional End Portal before. He didn’t think that such a thing was possible; everyone knows that portals are the one sure fixture of almost every server, unable to be tampered with or destroyed by any means.

“Oh, that.” Phil laughs. “There’s an interesting story there, actually. When Techno and I first came through here, we—”

But Phil gets cut off.

Wilbur senses it before he sees that anything is changed: the pressure in the room shifts, suddenly, becoming greater, more. All the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and the next breath he takes, he gets a lungful of ozone, sharp and electric.  He coughs, and finds that the noise falls strangely flat, and then there is someone hovering over the portal-table. Not standing. Hovering, a good six inches from the table’s surface.

Ranboo stumbles back, and Phil takes several strides forward, arms outstretched as if to shield them both. His cloak twitches, though his wings do not spread.

Wilbur’s not sure what he’s looking at.

They are a person, he thinks. At least, they are person-shaped, though it is somewhat difficult to tell; most of their body is covered in a long green cloak, one that drifts around them despite the stillness of the air. They have no visible feet, and their hands are hidden, if they have them. But under their hood, there is nothing but shadows, and those shadows do not seem to fall across a face. Instead, it is as though they are made of void, black and cold, and he finds himself leaning in, straining to see if there is anything past that, and the hood twitches in his direction and he gets a glimpse of

(twin halos circling circling like a tear in the world and a tear in the void a tear in the nothing and the everything and a circle half filled in and half open and you know something in you knows)

He freezes. His spine locks up. They do not have eyes but they are looking at him, and the only way to describe the feeling is prey studied by a predator. The Egg didn’t make him feel like this. Even Dream didn’t make him feel like this.

(or he did, but it was tainted by darkness, tainted by corruption, a predator studying prey if the predator was malicious rather than just an animal, acting on cruel whim rather than nature and instinct. this is something different. this is something vaster. this is the regard of a)

“The End is closed,” the newcomer says, and Wilbur stiffens further, because their voice echoes and vibrates and buzzes in his skull, but underneath that, underneath all the white noise, the voice sounds like Dream. But that cannot possibly be right. This—person, whatever they are, they are not human, but they are not the same as Dream, do not give off the same impression of oozing corruption, of a black pit at the core, sucking in all light to be snuffed out, stamped upon.

“We weren’t going to the End, mate,” Phil says, calm. “Just talking. Not against the rules to talk, is it?”

“The End is closed,” they repeat, their voice grating and twisting and pulling at the reality around them. Wilbur feels a headache begin to form behind his eyes, a dull throbbing.

“Right, one trick pony, you are,” Phil mutters, and then glances over his shoulder. “This is what I was about to tell you about. Seems there’s someone to enforce the End rule here. They almost took away the portal entirely before Techno and I swore we weren’t gonna use it. Nothing much to worry about, I don’t think. Look,” he tacks on, turning back to them, “we were really just having a chat. Don’t need someone looking over our shoulders for it.”

The hood of the cloak moves again in what might, possibly, be considered a head tilt.

“You may not open the way to the End,” they say. “Not even for his sake.” A hand snakes out of the folds of the cloak, gloved in black, and makes a quick gesture in Ranboo’s direction. Wilbur blinks, hard; the motion is difficult to track, and it’s as if they slice open the very air itself just by moving.

Phil scoffs. “Is that what this is about?” he asks. “Mate. He’s an enderman hybrid, he can’t help but be drawn to it. But he’s not stupid enough to try and go through. You’re not needed here. Promise.”

Ranboo nods in agreement, head bobbing rapidly as he makes a few noises of agreement. Wilbur might be amused by it, if it weren’t for the fact that every inch of his skin feels like a live wire, being in the same room as this thing. He’s not sure why Phil is being so nonchalant about this, as if this is normal. This isn’t normal. Or perhaps he’s the strange one, is overreacting to something that is undoubtedly odd but no reason to worry, but he doesn’t think so. He really, really doesn’t think so.

They drift a few inches back, almost absently.

“He watches from behind your eyes,” they say. “He above all others must not be allowed access. You will forgive my insistence.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Phil asks, and Wilbur wants to echo his confusion, except the Egg was in his head not even ten minutes ago, and he has a sneaking suspicion as to what they might be referring to. The Egg was in his head, but they are not looking at him, he’s sure, because when they were looking at him, he could feel it, just as he could feel Dream’s gaze sliding across him like the touch of a razor and yet not like that at all. And Ranboo has tensed, so perhaps this is directed at him, but Wilbur pushes that aside and steps forward, evading Phil’s outstretched arm, because if no one else is going to ask the questions he wants answered, then he will.

“What the fuck are you?” he says, blunt. Perhaps it’s not the wisest move, but he’s tired and irritated, and when Phil goes to grab his shoulder, he shrugs him off. “No, I’m not—stop that, I’m done with things yanking on my chain. This guy wants to appear in front of us and be all cryptic and shit, I’m not having that. Not today. We don’t have time for this. So what the fuck are you?”

For a moment, they go silent. His breathing is loud in his own ears.

(he’s not sure why he’s stuck on this, not sure why he’s stuck on them, for he has tangled with gods and monsters and this being should be no different, really, from what he has dealt with over the past few weeks, should be better, even, since it seems that they are not here to try to kill him or his family, but he looks at them and sees beyond them, sees a break in the world and crack in the code and it is like and not like anything else he has seen before and perhaps they will not find what they need to know in books)

“I am the protector,” they say at length. “A fragment and a failsafe.”

“I didn’t ask what you do,” he says, “I asked what you are.”

“Wil—”

“Stop,” he insists. He’s standing in front of both of them now, and he doesn’t look back, doesn’t take his eyes off the figure floating over the table. “We’ve got some, some otherworldly being in here with us, and you don’t think this could at all be relevant? Please tell me I’m not the only one who realizes who he sounds like.” Without waiting for an answer, he addresses the being again. “What are you? And how are you connected to Dream? You can’t tell me you’re not, I don’t believe it.”

Behind him, Ranboo makes a little sound, like he’s been punched in the gut.

They are silent once again.

And then:

“I am a shadow,” they say. “A shadow of the original. I am what he rejected in his last moment of clarity.”

“What are you—are you trying to say you know Dream? Or that you came from Dream?”

They drift closer. “I am of him but not him. My task is to prevent the worst. The final task he set me. I can do nothing else.”

“Is the ‘he’ in that sentence Dream?” Ranboo asks, a frantic whisper that is very loud. “Is the—I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all. Can we go now? I think we should go now and leave the mysterious floating guy alone.”

“Could you speak in anything but riddles?” he snaps, ignoring him. “I want a straight answer. You haven’t given me one yet.”

They drift closer still, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh, static energy crackling across it. He resists the urge to step back.

(this reminds you of another time another time long ago and this surge of confidence is true truer than any you have experienced yet since they dragged you back into this world by your trailing fingertips and it is true because you remember standing on the walls and facing the ruler of the server and holding your ground for what you believe in for the people you fight for and this is different but it feels the same feels the same and you will not give in not even to a)

They are looking at him, right at him,

(twin halos circle slashing wounds into the world and this is something that was never meant to be)

and they say, “It is not of you to demand of me. I am the protector. That is my task,” but that is not what Wilbur hears, because suddenly, there is something in his head, something poking at his thoughts, but it does not reach in as the Egg did, does not pull at the threads of his mind and attempt to twist them into something new, but rather just exists on the edges, touching but not pressing, and there is a pressure and he doesn’t like it at all but it doesn’t hurt him.

And what they say is not words, but rather impressions, imparted to him all at once, impossible to pick apart, and

(the beginning and the end all wrapped up in one as the universe looks on and this server is a home he will make it a home he did but he is gone and this is what remains of the divine fabric the crown of the world and they wait and wait and the universe looks on and they are nothing but a shell all the love taken by the other and broken corrupted drowned twisted and they wait by their task they do what has been set and only once do they not only once do they act there is a man and he asks and he is cloaked by the universe and the thrall of the empty and time in its mercilessness and that which is inbetween and he asks and the universe says yes so they do not refuse and they drag you back into this world by your trailing fingertips for the better or for the worse and the man is gone and the universe cannot be contained by this but the universe says)

he doesn’t understand a bit of it, but he reels back regardless, and his head feels like fireworks have gone off within it, like a thousand thunderclaps sounding overhead. Hand land on his shoulder, on his arm, and he does not push Phil away this time, nor Ranboo when he suddenly appears on his other side. He blinks the spots from his vision, and looks up. The figure is gone.

“You alright?” Phil asks quietly.

“What the fuck?” he says instead of replying. “Phil, what—what was that?”

“I second that? I would also like to know?” Ranboo says, voice tilting upward.

“I would’ve told you not to mess with them, but I figured you should get it out of your system,” Phil says, still quiet, deadly serious. He stares at the table rather than make eye contact, and Wilbur follows his gaze. The End Portal still hums. “I’ve been around the block enough to know a god when I see one. I don’t know what the fuck this one is or what connection they have to Dream, but all they seem to want to do is make sure that no one goes to the End. Like I said, that’s what I was about to tell you before they showed up. Techno and I had to swear five times over that we wouldn’t use the portal for anything other than decoration before they’d even let us keep it. I figured it was best to leave them the fuck alone.”

“A god?” Ranboo echoes. “Like, an actual god? Divine smiting and all of that?”

Wilbur has never been much of a believer himself. Or at least, not one for worship. Gods may exist, but he’ll pay one homage when he decides it deserves his respect, and that day has never arrived.

But this one

(was in his head and he wanted it gone wanted it gone because he has had enough of things dragging their fingers across his sense of self but this one did not push and more than that it felt familiar almost like)

is important.

“There’s plenty of different kinds of gods,” Phil says, “but essentially, yes.”

“Dream’s not a god, though,” he states flatly. Phil glances at him.

“He’s never felt like one to me,” he agrees. “But I never picked up on the demon thing either, so I probably know fuck-all.”

“This feels important,” he says, and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to settle his nerves. “This feels—fuck, every time I think I’ve got all the pieces laid out, it turns out that I’ve made the framework too short, and there’s components I didn’t even know existed.” He shakes his head. The headache has mostly abated, so that’s something. “I don’t suppose they’d come back if we asked them nicely?”

“Do we want them to come back?” Ranboo asks, his voice rising in pitch even further. “Is that a thing that we want?”

He runs a hand through his hair again and doesn’t reply. Phil doesn’t either, though he’s not sure it’s for the same reason. Because frankly, yes; he wants them to come back. He asked them questions and didn’t understand a word of their answers, and he feels like he’s barely scraped the surface of what’s actually going on here. But one thing has been made clear enough: the nature of the connection between Dream and this being, this god, is uncertain, but the connection exists. And considering everything, that is something that’s relevant to them.

He’s beginning to think that they might get some information out of this after all. But he doubts that it’ll come from any book.

----------

They don’t find anything. They go at it for another few hours, flipping through musty pages until his eyes swim, and they come up with absolutely jack-shit. He wishes he could say that he’s surprised. He decides not to say anything about it at all, because Ranboo is wavering on his feet and Phil’s face is held in tight lines, and his negativity won’t do either of them any good.

“We can try again tomorrow,” Phil says, “but we need to turn it in. It’s been a long fucking day.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s been one day. Doesn’t feel like just this morning, they were marching into the Egg’s chamber, intent on taking it down once and for all. Doesn’t feel like they were chased out less than an hour later, battered and with one less than they started with, Dream escaped and everything gone to shit. It doesn’t feel like one day, and yet, it has been, and it reminds him of the war, at the end, when everything was happening so quickly and there was barely any time to process one event before something else was going wrong.

He doesn’t miss those days.

“How long can we afford to do this, Phil?” he asks, and doesn’t bother to hide his weariness. “How long can we afford to fuck around out here with nothing to show for it? We can’t even be sure that nothing’s happened in the Greater SMP, not with comms down.”

“I wish I had a good answer to that, Wil,” Phil says. “I really do. If you’ve got a better plan, I’m all ears.”

He

(does, perhaps, but it’s not one that Phil will like)

doesn’t, so the rest of the walk back out of the stronghold is made in silence. It’s a relief when they make it to the surface, the cold, biting air fresh on his face. He turns his face into the wind just to feel it, regardless of the sting. Night has fallen, the sun just the barest hint of purple-orange on the western horizon. Overhead, stars twinkle, bright and distant. Techno’s house is lit, now, an orange glow emanating from the windows. Tommy must have gotten a fire going.

Tommy. Right. They’ve left Tommy alone with Techno all afternoon. He’s too tired to be concerned about it right now. The house isn’t burning down, so they’re probably fine.

“I think I’m gonna go home for the night, if that’s okay,” Ranboo says. “I’ll meet up with you guys again in the morning?”

“Sounds good, mate,” Phil says, a bit distractedly; his eyes are roving over the cottage, probably searching for signs of property damage. But Ranboo takes it for agreement, so the kid nods, and then waves awkwardly to him, and then he’s walking across the snow toward the nearest mountain. For the first time, Wilbur realizes that there appears to be a house built into its side, not particularly pretty, but functional.

“With luck, they’re both conked out,” Phil mutters. He gathers his robes around him and heads for the door, and Wilbur trails after him.

Phil opens the door, and they’re greeted with silence. It is not the same silence from before; a fire crackles merrily in the hearth, now, some evidence of life. The house no longer gives an impression of a grave. But there are no voices that he can hear, nothing from the house’s two inhabitants, and perhaps Phil is right and they’re both asleep, but Wilbur doesn’t trust silence.

So as Phil goes over to the fire to stir up the coals, he makes a beeline for the ladder, climbing up as quietly as the creaky old thing will allow. The muttering hits his ears as soon as he pokes his head above the floor, hushed and furious, as if they both want to be shouting but are held back by some unspoken rule, some agreement not to break the peace of the rest of their surroundings. Or maybe that’s bullshit; Tommy isn’t one to care about things like that, after all.

He doesn’t step off the ladder, choosing to hang there for a moment instead, gripping the rungs uneasily. The wood is rough, and vaguely, he wonders if he’ll get splinters.

Technoblade is awake, and more than that, he is aware. That is the first thing his mind locks onto, the fact that his brother looks far better than he did earlier. He is still shaking, but far less, and his eyes are bright and present rather than fogged with pain. He sees no sign of gold, no lingering flickers and flashes of magic, and the relief is heady. He is not yet completely well; the fact that he is still in bed is evidence enough of that. But he is sitting up, and he no longer looks like death warmed over,

(too soon too soon)

and his face is twisted in irritation rather than pain.

Tommy has scooted his emerald block closer to the bed, is leaning forward, feet planted on the floor and hands planted on his knees, all bristling anger, indignation, face flushed and red. He puts Wilbur in mind of a cat, hissing and spitting at the object of his ire, making himself bigger than he truly is.

“—the fuck you want,” he’s saying, and his whisper is harsh, but it’s certainly a whisper. “I don’t fucking—I don’t owe you shit, you got that? I don’t owe you shit, so you can, you can fuck right off, you hear me?”

Techno blinks. “When did I say that, Tommy? Please tell me exactly when I said that,” he says, and—oh. Wilbur gets it now. Because Techno’s voice is quiet and rough, still thick with exhaustion, and he’s probably only a few minutes out from waking up. So, Tommy may be angry, may be positively irate, but whether he’s aware of it or not, he’s holding himself back, refusing to unleash the full force of his fury on someone who has objectively been through hell today.

(and Tommy is brash, and Tommy is loud, and Tommy performs being an irritating little shit like nobody’s business, but above all else, Tommy is good, and Tommy will never admit it, but he is kind, and it is a miracle that it hasn’t been beaten out of him along the way, that despite it all he has managed to keep his spirit, but he is kind, he is. and it is more despite him than because of him, but it is little moments like these that remind Wilbur why he is so proud of him)

“You don’t have to say it,” Tommy bites out. “Mister, mister violence is the only language or whatever the hell, mister vengeance, you’re big on favors and repaying them. But I—I didn’t ask you to do shit, you did that all on your own, so I don’t owe you. I’m saying it right now, I don’t owe you.”

There is an edge to the words. A fear. An expectation. Wilbur doesn’t expect it to hit him as hard as it does, but there is a pang in his chest, and he wonders if this is yet another lesson he imparted on his little brother. To expect no kindness without an ulterior motive.

(that was how he was, in the darkness of the ravine, seeking out the duplicity of everyone around him, even when there was none to be found, but it is one thing to look back and see clearly, now, what he was like, the slope he slid down, the spiral he entered, and another to continue to be confronted with the evidence of the hurt he caused, the hurt he has yet to truly make up for)

(here is a certainty that has not left him: he does not deserve Tommy’s forgiveness. that is another thing that can be attributed to his kindness. the kindness that somehow, between the wars and the country and the shadows, he did not manage to take from him, not like he took so much else)

“I didn’t do it so that you’d owe me,” Techno says. “Give me a little more credit than that.”

“Why should I?” Tommy erupts, though it is the quietest eruption that Wilbur has ever heard from him. “Why—give me one fucking reason why I should believe a word out of your mouth.”

“I don’t lie,” Techno states, flat. “I have no reason to.”

“Oh, right,” Tommy says, “because you’re so fucking honorable. You’re so fucking—I can’t deal with you, you know that? You’re a fucking hypocrite, and I don’t care what your game is. I don’t care. You’re the worst, and I—”

“I don’t want you dead,” Techno says. “That’s it. That’s why I did it, Tommy, simple as that.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy snaps. “Then what the fuck was Doomsday, then? What the fuck was telling me to die like a hero, then? You are just talking complete shit, shit out of your mouth, out of your arse—”

And then, Tommy, cuts off, because Techno tenses, seizing up, a sudden glimmer of gold in his eyes, and he grunts, hands curling into his bed sheets, his face blanking. Tommy moves forward, seemingly on instinct, hands reaching out to steady him, and there is is again, that kindness, that kindness that Tommy would rather die than allow anyone to point out.

The fit subsides, Techno breathing heavily. Tommy lingers for a moment, and then jerks back, scowling, as soon as Techno makes eye contact with him.

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“At the end of the day,” Techno says, slowly, “it doesn’t really matter whether you believe me or not. I’ve been angry at you, Tommy. I can’t say that I don’t feel like it was justified. I’m sick of—” He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply, and then opens them again. “I’ve said all this before. It doesn’t matter. But I don’t want you dead, and I wasn’t about to let Dream kill you in front of me when I could do somethin’ about it. Between my first life and your third one, it was an easy choice.” He sighs, settling further down on the pillows. “Take it or leave it. I’m not arguin’ this right now.”

Tommy’s mouth works. Several emotions flicker across his face, and Wilbur can only pick out a few of them: disbelief, more anger, but perhaps something that might be hope. Perhaps. But if it is, he doesn’t get the chance to find out, because at that moment, Phil calls up from the base of the ladder.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and that’s right, he’s just been standing here, on the ladder, for the past few minutes. He can see why that would make Phil concerned. But that means that Tommy and Techno are both suddenly made aware of his presence.

“What—how long have you been there?” Tommy sputters, and he shrugs, clambering up the last rung or two and stepping fully into the room.

“Not too long,” he says. “Glad to see you cognizant, Techno.”

It’s all he can think so say, really, though there are a plethora of other statements crowding his mind. That has always been a weakness of his, his inability to allow himself to be emotional when it really counts, his habit of hiding everything beneath layers of deflection and a cool exterior. He and Techno aren’t dissimilar on that front, though Techno has a different way of going about it.

(so here is what he does not say: I’m so glad you’re alright, I saw you die when you’re supposed to be deathless and it terrified me, please never do that again, I know we’re broken and fucked up and maybe we’ll never be what we once were but I can’t imagine a life knowing that you won’t be there when I need you to be, so please, please stay alive)

“Can’t say I’m having a great time with it,” Techno mutters, and he’s definitely falling asleep again. “But thanks. Glad you’re not dead too, Wilbur.”

The ladder creaks again as Phil comes up, and he pauses a moment to survey the room before stepping in, eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene.

“Nobody bleeding or dying?” he asks wryly, and then crosses the floor to perch on the edge of Techno’s bed. “Hey, Tech, how you feeling?”

“Absolutely fantastic,” Techno says. “Top form, point me at the orphans.”

Phil laughs, more relief than anything else, and smooths some of Techno’s hair away from his face. Techno huffs out a sigh, but allows the gesture.

“Great,” Tommy says. “You all get anything, or was this whole thing for nothing?” There’s more hostility in his voice than necessary, though whether it’s genuine or to cover for his earlier emotion, Wilbur can’t tell.

“Nothing yet,” Phil says, unfazed. “We’ll spend the night here, get back at it in the morning. If we still don’t find shit, we’ll discuss where to go from there.”

Tommy crosses his arms, looking away, and he’s displeased at the concept of staying here, Wilbur can tell. So as Phil continues to lean over Techno, he slides over to him, nudging him in the arm. Tommy flinches, and then relaxes, eyeing him up.

“You good?” he murmurs, keeping his voice down.

“Fine,” Tommy replies. “Are we actually going to get anything out of this, or was this a big fucking waste of our time?”

Again, vitriol, and he remembers the conversation between him and Tubbo, overheard and unmentioned. After everything they’ve been through, a separation can’t be easy. On either of them, but especially on Tommy.

(a memory: buzzing excitement at doing something good, at helping, shining compasses, an inscription: Your Tubbo)

“It won’t be a waste of time,” he says, and the plan that’s been formulating in the back of his mind solidifies. It’s not a very good plan. But it’s something, and it’s more than they’ve got. “I’ll make sure of that.”

It is a general’s responsibility to lead his soldiers to victory, after all. And in the case of a half-baked, reckless plan, to take matters into his own hands.

And it is more than the general’s responsibility. It is his. For better, or for worse.