#I wonder if I can dig out my old art from this game

[foxtrottcantfindshit]

My interest took a hard left, all the way back to when I was a teenager and this game came out in 2016!!!

Still one of my top favorite games of all time I’m almost sure this is #1 or #2 and of course, my favorite was Noct

[leighsartworks216]

Spring Wedding

Sylus x gn!Reader

I am trying to post this so fast before my class begins oh lordy

Edit: changed "my dearest" to "my beloved"

Warnings: past relationship, minor references/implications of emotional/mental abuse, backhanded compliments, protective Sylus, fake relationship

Word Count: 824

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

You hold tighter to Sylus's hand, your other hand wrapping around his elbow and hugging his arm to your chest to keep you as close to him as possible. Sylus notices right away, but before he can ask what’s wrong, a voice calls your name from several feet away.

“Is that really you?”

Despite your obvious signs of discomfort, you turn to the voice and plaster a smile on your face. Sure enough, your ex was there in the flesh. Memories of the backhanded compliments and insistence on pushing boundaries fill your mind, alighting every nerve with the desire to run. “Oh, wow, hi! I didn’t expect to see you here,” you greet with faux enthusiasm.

The person can’t seem to keep their eyes off you, ignoring your partner for the night entirely. Sylus had your outfit perfectly tailored and detailed to match him tonight, but the way they studied you made you want to cover yourself with his jacket. You wonder if he’d let you.

Sylus squeezes your hand, a silent question. You respond immediately, the tips of your nails beginning to dig into his knuckles.

“You look amazing! I haven’t seen you in so long, I almost didn’t recognize you. That training really shaped you up,” they chuckle.

You cough politely, a distraction from answering their… compliments.

“Sweetie,” Sylus pipes up, leaning closer to you, “you haven’t introduced us.” His smirk is smug and intimidating, but you can see the fire in his eyes. Your ex doesn’t notice, too busy taking in every intricate detail of your face like an art curator at a high-end museum.

“Oh, right!” You nod toward them, introducing them by name. “We dated in high school, before I went off to the Hunter’s Association. And this is Sylus, my-”

“Their husband.” You discretely pinch his arm. Sylus laughs. “Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist. I just love how it sounds.”

The ex blinks, as though they’ve just been rudely awoken from a dream. “Husband? What? When did you get married?” Their question emphasizes the fact it’s you, rather than the union itself.

If this is the game Sylus wants to play, you have no choice now but to play your part. “Oh, it was last spring! It was beautiful! The ceremony was held underneath cherry blossom trees and a full moon.”

They raise an eyebrow, a taunting grin dancing unsurely on their lips. “And you didn’t think to invite me?”

“No,” Syus answers. It’s sharp, abrupt, leaving absolutely no room for questions. It wipes the look off their face.

They look you up and down, frowning. “I don’t see any rings.”

Sylus chuckles again, tilting his head in a belittling fashion. “Rings are hardly enough of a symbol for our love. I crafted them a set of guns. Why don’t you show him?”

You smile as you play along, letting go of Sylus’s elbow to retrieve the gun holstered at your thigh. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? He designed every aspect of them, down to the design on the grip.” With years of firearms training under your belt, you maneuver the weapon skillfully around your fingers, before slotting it back in place, reminiscent of old world cowboys. You replace your hand on his arm, beaming as you look up at him. “Show them the knife I made you, darling.”

“Of course, my beloved.” Oh, he was enjoying this much more than he let on. He pulled out a hunting knife from his belt, deftly spinning it around his own fingers before balancing it by the tip on his finger. “I just need to find an opportunity to try it out.” He tests the weight of it in his hand, as though trying to decide the best way to skin an animal. With the way he’s looking at your ex, it’s clear just who he’s thinking of testing it on.

They swallow at the thinly veiled threat. “Th- They look really nice!” they stammer. They try to laugh it off, but it comes off thick and anxious. Their grin is shaky at the corners. “Well, it was, uh, nice to see you again.” Seeming at a bit of a loss for how to extricate themself from the situation, they land somewhere between bowing and waving, before scurrying away. Sylus tucks the knife back in his belt.

You feel like you can breathe again once they’re out of earshot.

You sigh, mask slipping, and lean heavier into Sylus’s side. He squeezes your hand softly. “Thank you for scaring them off.”

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Of course. How could I possibly let my spouse suffer their existence any longer than necessary?”

You snicker. “I’m not your spouse, you don’t have to keep pretending anymore.”

“No? Damn. And I was already making arrangements for our spring wedding.” He puts his hand on his chin to mime thinking. “Under cherry blossoms and a full moon, hm?”

“Oh, shut up.”

[artdcnaldson]

thinking about pre engagement art at his first olympics. you’re doing coverage for a mag back home on some player from your hometown. but art. beautiful fucking art who you run into the morning of your first day and who you convince to come to your hotel so he can get away from the rickety little twin beds at the village. butter him up with a drink. only one, won’t hurt his game. you talk and talk you god you wish your story could be about him instead. and he stays the night in the hotel with you and is gone when you wake up but he’s left an official statement on his wonderful teammate, hometown guy, for your story that will make your boss happy. when you get home after your story star gets knocked in the round of 16 there’s flowers and your hotel has been paid off until the final. he wants to go to dinner after he wins gold and take polaroids of you w nothing but his medal on.

if u have room for 🫐 anon, i will keep homeostasis w my zweiginator emoji anon

Omg hi sorry I sat on this so long <333 RAHHHH pre engagement pretty angel curls art playing tennis at the Olympics makes me feel SO CRAZY

EEEEEP using your press pass to get access to all of his matches, even though you really should get home. Art’s dominating the court— effortless and beautiful. You’re there when he wins the gold medal match against an older, seasoned player, and he’s so gracious to the player’s face, to the press.

“It was a tough match,” he says into a microphone as you stand close by, thankful for the press badge around your neck. “I’m just lucky to get the chance to play with one of the greats.”

He smiles, charming and victorious when they take photos of him with his medal. The American flag in the background and him, the spitting image of homegrown, good old fashioned athletic talent.

The dinner is nice, fancier than you’re used to on a journalist’s budget. He’s just got a new sponsorship with Nike, so they pay for a lot. He buys a nice bottle of wine and bashfully admits he doesn’t know a lot about what makes it nice, other than the price tag. It’s charming, it’s sweet.

Sitting across from him at the table, you know he’s got less than innocent intentions for the night. Just three days ago, he had you sinking down on his cock, riding him hard and fast and crying out his name like it was a form of worship.

“Do you want to see the medal?” He asks once you’ve finished dessert.

You forget the question by the time you’re in his room in the Olympic village, when he’s mouth is on yours and his hands are ripping at your clothes. The bed is soft, plush beneath you as he drops you onto it, laid bare and wanting. You part your legs invitingly, wordlessly begging for him to strip off the rest of his clothes and bury himself inside of you.

You’d even let him do it raw— a present for his gold medal win.

But he disappears, digging in his suitcase until he retrieves the medal from within. Orange and red ribbon and a big gold medal at the center. Before you can say anything, he’s slipped it around your neck, so the gold is nestled between your breasts.

“Pretty,” he muses, fingers circling the cold medal where it rests. “Can I take a picture?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly. He could’ve suggested anything, really, and you would’ve said yes. He was just so beautiful, so charming. You wanted to please him more than anything.

He pulls out a digital camera and powers it on. It whirrs softly as he zooms in, then snaps a photo of the medal resting between your tits. “Pose for me,” he says, but he has another idea already. His hands move up, sliding from your hip, up your abdomen, until it cups your breast in one large palm. He snaps another photo, smiling behind the camera.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he muses. He nudges your thighs apart and toys with your clit, just on the good side of teasing. Slow, insistent circles that make you grow even wetter, even needier. He zooms out, takes a full body shot (because he’ll die before he forgets this pussy) and tosses the camera to the side.

He hikes your legs over his shoulders and buries his face between your thighs— mouthing hungrily at your cunt. His tongue laves over your center, lapping at the wetness that had been steadily leaking from your cunt since dinner. He moans against you, as he nuzzles his nose against your clit to get closer and closer. “Taste so good—“ his words are mostly muffled against you, as he licks and sucks on your pussy, face shiny with slick and spit.

You cum easily, your body responding to his touches so openly. Like it’s his toy to use. He smiles up at you as you pant and tremble, cunt fluttering with aftershocks. He kisses your thigh gently, reverently.

It’s not long before he’s sinking into you. Your pussy so soft and warm and wet for him, sucking him in, aching for something to fill that empty spot inside. You whine and gasp as he nudges against your cervix, buried deep, finding home there.

“That’s it,” he hums as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “Pull me in deeper. Just like that.”

His pace is slow, his thrusts deep. You feel so close to him as he boxes you in, arms on either side of your head, fucking you like he’s making love. When he leans down and kisses you, it feels like heaven, which seems appropriate for a boy who looks like an angel.

[zedecksiew]

Mechanics as Bits

EDIT:

Freddie Foulds over on Bluesky found the post for me! It was a Chris McDowall post: Alien Dojos.

This is now a fan post about the genius that is Alien Dojos.

Every martial art described there (for use with Into The Odd) has a resolution mechanic that involves doing something tactile with dice, beyond just rolling.

For "Bafistan Fist Fighting" each punch is a d6, "rolled" by "throwing them into the air and punching them"---but you have to punch them in such a way they still land on the table; if you miss your punch, or punch them off the table, that's a failure.

Or, how about "Five Way Stick":

Initiate: When fighting with a Martial Stick (d6, Bulky) stack 5d6 in front of you and try to flick the top die from the stack. If any other than the top tie fall, fail and treat the roll as 1. Continue down the stack until you fail or choose to stop.

These are:

Functional subsystems (clear resolution mechanics);

Thematically appropriate to fiction they are meant to represent (little minigames of player dexterity to resolve character actions involving martial arts);

Physical spectacle (at the very least you will be focused on the "roll", if not dodging flying dice);

Goofy as shit (a virtue in itself).

I want to make rules like this.

+++

Today I spent a few hours watching this Alien-abduction themed actual play of Dread, on Smosh. I liked it a lot! More than I thought I would!

(Please don't laugh at me too much for my very vanilla Internet media consumption! I am an old, and very uncool. Today I was watching YouTube between digging up banana corms.)

I almost never watch actual plays, mind you. I tried Critical Role and bounced right off; I have seen maybe two Dimension 20 sessions ever; the last AP series I followed really was HarmonQuest, which was---what, the twenty-teens?

+

Watching the Smosh Dread thing got me wondering:

How often do mechanics / system talk come up in the course of big mainstream actual plays?

I don't mean:

"Pull from the Jenga tower." (simple resolution mechanics); or

"I cast Fireball!" (diegetic, arguably)

But:

"Okay so let's look it up. Fireball is 20ft x 20ft, and *doesn't* set stuff on fire." (non-diegetic rules clarification); or:

"You have four 'Mercury' symbols, and from last round you have the "somebody will betray you" narrative trigger, let's consult the relevant oracle table ..." (complex resolution mechanics)

This analysis by Trilemma of the transcript of a Critical Role episode [and additional commentary by Thomas Manuel] goes a ways towards answering how much general rules talk occurs, though it doesn't make a distinction between the types of rules talk in the sense I'm thinking of.

+

Here's a (totally untested) hypothesis:

If actual plays are edited / watched for the uninterrupted flow of action / banter / emotion at the table (as ones geared towards general, non-TTRPG-enthusiast audiences like Smosh and HarmonQuest certainly are);

and:

If certain kinds of complex mechanics tend to divert attention into cul-de-sacs of meta-narrative detail, interrupting said flow of action / banter / emotion (these are generally absent from the APs I can sit through, or at least edited out);

then:

The games that work best for actual play are basically party games, with light and (more importantly, for this post) VISCERAL resolution mechanics:

Jenga-d suspense;

The sleep rituals in stuff like Werewolf;

An overdramatic rock-paper-scissors game; etc

Or, alternatively, they are games whose systems can get out of the way enough to function like party games. I'd argue that D&D counts as one such game. It is go-to mainstream TTRPG actual play system because yes, of Name Brand Recognition---

But also because it is possible to not play with any actual D&D rules (and therefore avoid the tedium of looking up what stuff like Conditions mean) and still be playing D&D culturally.

+

Basically:

How suitable a tabletop roleplaying game is for actual play depends on how easily its mechanics can function as bits or performances, in the improv sense.

+++

So this is very shaky ground for me; I don't watch actual plays and I am talking out my ass. But through the sewage of my bullshit is perhaps the firmer ground of a design opportunity, maybe?

Namely:

Could we be designing TTRPG mechanics as performances / for performativity?

+

I'd argue that Dread is so well-known because its simple core mechanic is a novel for precisely this reason: you and your friends enact your suspense around the Jenga Tower physically and viscerally (even if it is anxious silence), for each other (if not for an outside audience).

There is the sense that you are acting. Doing something.

+

How else could we manage this?

Rolling dice or revealing a card are already performances, technically---but for our purposes here I'd argue that they are very "small"; they don't have enough presence.

How can we treat dice rolls with the pomp of ritual, construct more ceremony around a card-based resolution system?

Boardgames are already good at fun counters and tactile props and click-y dials---but these are also small, in that they live mainly on the table. You are still sitting on your ass.

Props that make you get up! Rulesets that necessitate play-fighting!

LARP totally fits. Throwing pouches and yelling "Magic Missile! Magic Missile!" 10 out of 10 no notes.

+

Finger games (rock paper scissors; lat ta li lat ta li tam pong; thumb war) fit.

A chase scene in fiction resolved by a game of tag is maybe too on the nose, but also fits.

+

I've been trying to find this blogpost I vaguely recall, that proposes exactly the kind of thing I'm thinking about.

It suggested a list of unusual fighting styles (or maybe martial arts) for D&D. It has stuck in the substrate of my mind because the proposed fighting styles all had non-standard, action-based resolution mechanics.

Ie: the GM tosses a handful of dice; you (the player) try to punch as many of them in mid-air with your fists; how many you get determines how many hits you score in fiction.

Something like that. Imagine that goofy shit at the table!

I can't find this post any more. Does anybody else remember something like it? Help! I want to find it again!

+++

[rallamajoop]

Hi! I saw your analysis posts about the Lords of RE8, and I am absolutely in love! The early concept of the Duke as the fifth Lord always fascinated me, especially since I wonder what "motif" there could have been in term of horror for him. I mean, the other lords all answer obvious archetypes and that ever since their concept art (vampire, werewolf, Frankenstein, ghost). I wonder what would have been the plans with the Duke and his early, more zombified-like version... What d'you think?

Well, as I've said before, I don't think there's much to suggest the Duke was ever meant to be "the fifth lord" in the sense of having his own domain or a big boss battle, or however else you're thinking here. He doesn't appear alongside the other lords in any of the early concepts for Ethan's trial, and all the lords' iconography is big on square corners and blocks in a way that really wouldn't work with a fifth entry. All we've even got to go on to tell us he was ever meant to be a lord at all is a single line attached to one piece of concept art (below). I don't even see him as looking all that much more zombified there ‒ it's just a sketchy art style.

My guess, FWIW, would be the Duke was always going to be Ethan's ally/shopkeeper, but with some late-game reveal that he was a (deposed? former?) member of the lords as an explanation for his implied powers and connection to the village. But the Duke doesn't need to be explained for the story to work, which may be why the 'fifth lord' idea was ultimately dropped.

If you really want to dig into fairy tale archtypes though, there's an obvious one that already corresponds to the Duke, with his horse and carriage ‒ and that's the old, wandering fortuneteller. Typically this would be a Romani woman (although I don't imagine she'd be called 'Romani' in any authentic fairytale), and our hero would more likely be trading money or favours for advice rather than treasure for weapon upgrades, but the Duke fits the bill otherwise.

In fact, as I mentioned in my post on some of the game's unused assets, the Duke actually has a number of unused voice lines that seem to relate to him selling Ethan more information (“You won’t come across this information just anywhere,” “A little bird whispered this to me,” and “Not to presume, but some advice if I may.”) ‒ possibly treasure photos or hints to significant locations.

Fortunetellers and other folk who offer cryptic-yet-vital advice are a regular feature in horror stories too, not just fairy tales. If offended, their role can easily overlap into that of 'witch', for greater monster cred. But for my money, the Duke himself doesn't come across as the easily offended type, so expanding his role into 'monster' might be reaching.

Alternately, you could also look at the villainous Masked Duke from the Shadow of Rose DLC. I doubt he much resembles any authentic 'original' plan for the character, and he's very much his own entity, but he's certainly an effective villain.

(Though if neither of those work for you, given the Duke's size and association with food, 'literal giant who eats people' might also be a fairytale archtype that could fit.)

All that said, I do wonder just a little if there was ever a plan for the Duke to have a proper villain-reveal moment, when you learn he's the fifth lord. I have this whole semi-developed theory that the Duke is actually working on Miranda's direction for most of the game we all played: after all, she seems to want Ethan to destroy her 'false children', and it's the Duke who sets him on the path to do that (with some input from the old hag, our other cackling-fortuneteller-character). It's only once Ethan wakes up in the Duke's carriage at the very end that he unambiguously picks a side against Miranda. After all, even if he was always privately rooting for Ethan, why stick his neck out for a man who might not even survive the day? That's just not good business.

But even if the Duke wasn't working for Miranda from the start, how much do we really know about his motives? It's far too easy to read his eagerness to buy the crystalised remains of mould-infected individuals as the stuff of war profiteering. How much would the additional remains of Miranda, and even Ethan, be worth to him? And these are hardly the only possibilities for what he could really be after!

In short, I would actually love to see more villainous takes on the Duke. Don't get me wrong ‒ I do love that a character as shady as him doesn't turn out to have been Evil All Along, but he's still sinister enough that I'm intrigued by AU possibilities where he has his own twisted plans for Ethan all along, whether as part of Miranda's scheme or all his own. There's stuff you could do here, I'm just saying!

One one final note, people have suggested the owl crest you can see in the background of his shop and the carpet of his carriage was intended to be the crest of his house, and that seems broadly plausible (more on that & translations in my post on everything we do know about the village lords). While I'm at it, have some high-res versions of both from the game assets.

I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that an owl represents wisdom, or how that tracks with his role as a source of information for Ethan either.

Does it actually look like the crests of the other lords, though?

Eh, a little? You'd have to do some heavy reworks to make it fit in a diamond like all the others. As for overall shape, you could even say it bears more resemblance to Miranda's crest.

Does that mean anything? Eh, if you want it to. Who knows?

(I am also going to nitpick you just a little and say that none of the lords was ever a werewolf. The werewolves are the werewolves, the missing lord in your list would be Moreau as the hunchback or swamp monster. We really don't need anyone else thinking Heisenberg is a lycan, that's really getting tired.)

[cutpaperbleedswater]

In the mirror is the reflection of a dead man walking

He’s rushing around looking for that one item his daughter just has to have in her bag. A simple dark green bag with dandelions he painted himself, branding her indirectly as theirs. This time the formerly mentioned item is a hair brush. 

“Daad, I know I don’t have curly hair like you but I did inherit the thickness, it’s going to be windy today, I need my hair brush.” 

So now she’s probably stood by the door, tapping her foot in the floor, arms crossed, waiting for him, because the walk upstairs would ‘ruin her shoes’. 

Though anyone who has ever met him couldn’t even lie saying he’s a quiet walker, he manages to acquire the hairbrush from her room without disturbing the shadows that flee at the slightest movement. He carefully twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, with precision owed to his art. 

When he arrives back downstairs, he holds out the hairbrush and his daughter flies into him, wrapping her arms around him, initiating a hug he returns before lightly tapping her shoulder to say it’s time to go. Katniss smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek before herding their children out of the door, leaving him alone, like every morning. He dreams of the day both his son and daughter are old enough to walk themselves so he can have just that bit more time with Katniss. 

Sighing, he begins his loud pursuit up the stairs with the intention of perhaps having a shower, grabbing his clothes from their bedroom. He steps into their en-suite and promptly stumbles back. Looking back at him is a man dead and gone a good 25 years ago at the very least.

Frantic blue eyes whiz back and forth across the mirror, he watched the pupils bounce backward and forward until his head starts to spin. He frantically looks up to his hair, a slightly darker blonde, with looser curls that only add to the image of his father. The kindness and vibrancy in his eyes, the well rounded jaw-line, soft face. Even to him, his neck is the same. Then a blink.  This time he does fall back. His father. He is the carbon copy of a dead man. Overtime the initial boyness of his appearance has been chipped away, revealing someone he likes to think looks more stable. In his childhood he remembers the comments everyone made about the Mellark boys’ strong genes, he felt proud, happy to feel included, but now he just feels despair. Only one of those four are alive and that’s him, the one who still marvels about how he still breathes. He remembers people saying him and his older, but not oldest, brother could pull off being twins. And then the very rare old person stopping him in the street to say he looked exactly like his father at whatever age it was. Now no one needs to tell him (the ones that would anyway are nearly all dead) that. At the sight, despair pools in his lungs, coating his insides with it. 

After years, going on decades, he finally wonders if his father would be proud of the person his son is. He likes to think he would; he continues the legacy of being a generous tradesman, his kindness still digs under peoples skin, he doesn’t normally let out frustration by means of violence on anything other than kneading the dough a bit aggressively. He’s an active figure in his children’s lives, they can trust him. He’s finally broken free from the chains of his trauma that held him down, he fought his battles head on. For that, he hopes his father would be proud. He hopes they all would be. Bar his mother, who was anything but in the sense of caring for and nurturing him. 

He shuffles against the door, knees pulled up to his chest, hands in hair, tugging at the greasy curls. Who’s he kidding? Surely not himself. What is there for his father to be proud of? What is left of the son he sent off to the Games? The son turned insane just for doing what’s right. The son who tried to kill his beloved. The son who had lost control of himself at one of the most crucial times.  That’s where Katniss finds him. Small handfuls of his straw blonde hair sat around him. She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to, only pulls him close to her and begins massaging his hands. Tricking them into letting go. She watches the tears flow down his face and her heart pangs but she knows he’ll be okay in a few. He always is. Always.

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: May 2023

If you notice I haven’t read as much this month, it’s because I got the new Zelda game. But between my vanquishing of evil I still managed to fit in some other media! Here’s how I spent the month of May.

……….FILM……….

BlackBerry (2023) Having grown up in Waterloo Region I didn’t have any interest in seeing a retelling of the story I mostly knew but this was really great! Surprisingly funny and frenetic and a truly unhinged (in the best way) performance from Glenn Howerton. Good stuff.

John Mulaney: Baby J (2023) I naively thought “I wonder how much this’ll touch on the drug stuff?”... turns out it’s all about the drug stuff. Cool that he was talking about it so openly, and made it so funny, but I wonder if there was more material that got cut? He briefly mentions a trip with his son and I would’ve loved to hear more about that. Anyway as a comedy special it’s really great.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023) You know I haven’t been interested in the last few Marvel movies but this one felt like it was going to be different..and it was! So many moving parts but I never had trouble keeping track of character motivations or story beats and the whole thing was really beautiful. I mean even the really gross stuff was fun to watch. Keen to go back and watch this as a trilogy down the road.

The Suicide Squad (2021) I was excited to see Guardians of the Galaxy so at the start of the month I rewatched this. Still impressed at how this can be equal parts a gross out dick joke movie and also built on a foundation of community and family. Builds well, nothing feels repetitive, and the finale doesn’t overstay its welcome. Really great stuff.

……….TELEVISION……….

The Bear (Episode 1.01 to 1.03) Never have I felt so stressed watching television. Really captivating episodes and I’m very excited to watch more.

Ted Lasso (Episode 3.08 to 3.10) Maybe it’s the time away from season 1 and 2, or maybe something happened behind the scenes, but season 3 feels different. Some eps really hit, and even some moments within those other episodes, but it all feels rather unfocused. Maybe it’ll stick the landing but my confidence has been shaken.

The Most Hated Man on the Internet (Episode 1.01 to 1.03) Perfectly paced. Just enough detail to get invested but after 3 eps it felt like I experienced the full journey. Really interested to see the public’s perception of revenge porn shift over time and I can only assume this website (and its founder) played a part in that.

……….YOUTUBE……….

Down the Off-Grid Rabbit Hole... by Maggie Mae Fish Love simultaneously learning about a corner of the internet and also how it’s exploiting others. Just wild. VIDEO

Why so many people need glasses now by Vox Turns out kids need to spend more time outside for legit biological reasons? Who knew. VIDEO

How Nintendo Solved Zelda's Open World Problem by Game Maker’s Toolkit Hey maybe you’ve been playing the new Zelda and if you have, you’ll find this interesting. I sure did. VIDEO

……….READING……….

The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion by Jonathan Haidt (Page 165 of 500) The first time I read this, it really helped me understand the perspective some folks take on divisive topics. There was a sort of comfort to finally seeing what they’re seeing. In rereading this, I find myself getting angered while reading. The book is over 10 years old and while still relevant, it often feels quaint when talking about the widening gap between political parties. Its neutrality feels almost naive to me? Maybe I’ve forgotten a key chapter that helps.

The Fade Out by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips (It doesn’t have page numbers...maybe 1/3 of the way through) Murder in old hollywood is just so cool. I’m really digging this so far and the art, characters, and pacing feel thoroughly natural. Every reveal is just so casual cause to these characters, it’s just their lives, and I love that. Big fan so far.

Ultimate Spider-Man Volume 8 by by Brian Michael Bendis, Mark Bagley, and more (Complete) I always liked the smaller stories in this volume that focused on Peter’s personal life...like break-ups and dating other superheroes and stuff. But for some reason the Jean DeWolff/Kingpin/Moon Knight stuff always just felt kinda rushed? I dunno maybe I like everything to be a little more fantastical or suuuuuuper mundane. None of this in-between shenanigans. Give me highschool or give me death.

……….GAMING……….

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom (Nintendo) So good. I walked past a house that was redoing their driveway and had a bunch of construction stuff covered in a tarp and I immediately thought “hmm I wonder what I could build” and that...is the sign that I’ve played this game too much. Big fan 10/10 change nothing.

Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Mof1 Crew did some downtime planning ahead of a heist/attack combo that worked out pretty well! We played out events in weeks instead of in real time (for both the players and their enemies) and it worked pretty well!

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The group is still navigating a rival adventuring party on the island and seeing what happens now that they’ve let their star-collecting duties slip. Big trouble. You can read about it here.

Anyway that’s it. See you in June!

[kausatstolar]

1-10

Okay, technically sovstuck's been out for a little while, but i've been thinking about it, and figured I may as well preserve my thoughts somewhere than the sovstuck discord. [shout out to you guys fr]! May as well use this blog for something. The prologue can go above the cut.. But the rest of it, not so much. Without further ado, our story begins.

The year is 5023

Not much going on with the text, so it's time to take a nice hard look at the panel! I think it's so fascinating how the planets from the beta kids' session make up this solar system, alongside earth, which-- Once again, appears to be the third planet from the sun. Which.. Is the light symbol. Could be artistic choice, could be literal. Either way, this is a gorgeous piece of art.

The place, Earth C. More colloquially known as AFTERRA.

Afterra... That's fun. Keeps up with naming conventions. Not much to say about this, other than the fact I can't help but notice the second moon...

13 years ago the OLD GODS came back to this world, 5,000 years after its birth, to much fanfare and to much dismay.

Huh. 10 years unaccounted for. S'probably nothing! This is a fun panel to look at, and it's also very fun to see that building's roof resemble one of the can city structures from homestuck proper.

But this story isn't about the Old Gods. And this story isn't about THE CONSTRUCTION, either, nor a new form of it.

points. hey who's that incredibly handsome carapacian in the foreground... [retris's dad!!] once again, this is beautiful to look at. neo kyoto... I haven't yet commented on it, but I love the texture of the prologue panels. Very edible. while The Construction piques my curiosity, this isn't that story.

No, this is a story about a boy, his friends, and a game they play together.

YEAHHHHH RONTIS... His house looks so nice. Goodbye paper texture. Not much to say, but I'm sure excited.

This is a story about you.

WOO. Not much to analyze about the text that's present, but plenty of panel to dig into. it's nice to see him so comfy.. However, his room is a smidge of a disaster. Peeping the 3ds, sure, but also... His clipboard, monster energy, and papers scattered everywhere. Shout out to the aspect wheel by his head, too.

There's a gif of retris at the computer, but it's a smidge too big. Behold page seven on your own. It's just damn pleasant to watch, seeing everyone's signs bounce so pleasingly.. Wait. What's with the iron cancer sign matched with the pieces sign. Hm. I'm sure we'll get there. I also like how the blue of SVURP's spirograph is an exact compliment of SBURB's spirograph.

Your name is RETRIS MORAGE, and you are tired. It's been a long and treacherous 18 MOVES since your OPENING, and 18 minutes since you've woken up from an incredibly long nap that you didn't mean to take. Whoops.

god i envy this very sleepy retris. It is currently 7 pm sharp on a wednesday, and I wish to rest. Not much to note as far as the art of the panel goes for this page! MOVES and OPENING... Chess terms. fun. Wonder if the whole of afterra uses these names, or if it's predominantly carapacian areas only.

The sunlight pours through your windows, unfettered. You take a moment to survey your various possessions as your brain wakes up. The gears of your mind groaned to life as you remembered yourself.

Hey! He's got a portrait of his parents on his nightstand. How sweet of him! And.. Monster energy cans everywhere. Lovely EVA merch too. On the note of the prose, I do quite enjoy it! Smth about the poetry of, "the gears of your mind groaned to life as you remembered yourself" sticks in the mind...

You, like everyone, have a variety of HOBBIES and INTERESTS. Among these are SWORDPLAY, WORDPLAY, and FOREPLAY. Don't think about the last one too hard. Don't think about that phrasing too hard, either. Get your mind out of the gutter. You have an ardent passion for ASTROLOGY and the science of MYTHOLOGICAL ROLES. You run a rather sizeable CHUMBLR blog dedicated to the subject. You wish you didn't. You know in your heart that you are a MAGE OF LIGHT, and are looking forwards to getting this proven to you. Sooner rather than later, hopefully. You're getting ahead of yourself, though.

Helluvah set-up he's got in his room, as far as his computer goes. mars on the back of his computer.. Very fun. Well kept room, aside from the cans and papers.

However, uh. Retris. Retris, what the hell do you mean you're gonna get your status as a mage of light proven to you. Swordplay, wordplay, foreplay.. I guess I'll have to pay a bit more attention to his phrasing, i suppose. Er. Not about the foreplay, let him layabout as it pleases him. Wordplay, however. Curious that Mythological Roles are a science, and that he's gotten too deep into running a tumblr blog about it. Surely that won't come back.

I'll get through the rest of the comic later; i've got things to do. Fascinating to see how it's begun, though. I can't wait to see where this's gonna go.

[subzeroparade]

💌 📡🕯️for the ask game please!

Also might I just say that I love your designs for the Byrgenwerth crew and Laurence, Ludwig, and Micolash in particular??? Your drawing style is absolutely fantastic :D

Thanks for the ask!

🕯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

So turns out there’s two candle emojis on this list??? I’m going to choose this one because the answer to the other one is just no and no because I love writing and I’m a meticulous planner lmao. 

I’m pretty low-key irl so engaging with folks over art and writing in fandom in ideal for me. I’m not the type to be vocal on a discord server but I love the time consecrated to looking at other people’s works, indulging in their headcanons, etc. I’m also old enough to know how to curate my own internet experience, and so have never had to deal with any unpleasant fandom drama (10/10 would recommend).

I would like to be better at leaving comments, especially on AO3, where there are some excellent works that are just woefully under-appreciated (probably because of AO3’s more general audience). I’d like to be better at engaging with those works to show my appreciation. 

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

I think it can double as dialogue and creative exchange - so more than just a healthy indulgence. Everyone is chasing that feeling of “ugh this piece of art makes me feel all the things” and I want to try give as much as I get in return.  

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I have no major working WIPs right now worth sharing tbh, so I took this earlier today as a little prompt/spontaneous writing exercise and extracted a bit from Litanies for 2k words worth of an “extra” scene. 

Title: Foxglove Rating: G Characters: Gehrman & Laurence Wordcount: 2k

Gehrman returns home to find Laurence digging through the dirt.

This will only really make sense for those who've read Litanies. It's extracted from this excerpt, in Gehrman's chapter:

I remember watching from afar, years ago, when he’d been the only soul willing to confirm a theory about the lake at the edge of Byrgenwerth’s grounds. The Prospectors had come across a veritable trove of seals that year, and Willem had begun to wonder if there weren’t perhaps hidden access points to the tombs obscured by the lake itself. No one knew how long the lake had been there or how exactly it had formed. The possibility that flooded passages to burial sites deep in the caves might be discovered and seized upon was suddenly at the forefront of our collective obsession. 

With all the bravado of a modest man with a death wish, he’d volunteered to go below. The scholars had outfitted him head to toe in watertight canvas and rubber, crowned by the diving suit’s great, bobbing head like a primitive carved idol with its single, staring eye. He’d spent twenty minutes walking along the lake bottom, getting as far as the cables allowed. When he re-emerged the scholars had crowded around him excitedly, given him no room to squeeze out of the suit and barely enough room to breathe. Once the glass and steel shell had been pried off his head, he’d only shrugged and told them solemnly that there was, "Nothing but silt, I’m afraid, and bulbous-faced fish with gaping mouths and silly stares, handsomer than the lot of you gawking at me now."

Only one scholar had laughed at that, a glint of copper in the sun. 

I enjoyed the concept so much I ran with a scene from the night before.

Foxglove

Gehrman returns home to find Laurence digging through the dirt.

Home is a generous word for what it is: four walls, some wood and some stone. A hearth in need of sweeping. A table with three working legs and a dubious fourth one. A bed, soft enough for his needs, softer than the hard stone floors of the labyrinths below Byrgenwerth. Outside, a sad little square of soil that doubles as a vegetable patch, where desperate, hardy things occasionally grow. Pails hung by the windows to collect rainwater. A stream for bathing, cluttered by cattails and hidden by high rushes and, past it, the path to the workshops, hard floors he’s made his bed on plenty of nights before. He’d like to sleep in his own bed, tonight. But first he needs to tend to the scholar rooting through his makeshift garden.

He walks up to the door and unlatches it. An old habit, the latch - useless here, deep in the forested paths of the academy grounds. It opens with a groan of protest.  

“I’ll be done in a moment,” comes the voice from the soil patch. Low, distracted, the sound travelling from a face that hasn’t looked up. 

Gehrman lays his overcoat across the back of one of two wooden chairs, pulled close to the hearth. He lights it, slowly, feeding it thin, dry logs at first; then any other detritus still lingering in his four square walls that he can afford to give up. Bones, most often, or scraps of parchment. A garment too worn to repair, or the nettle that grows insistently over the back windows of the little homestead. It reeks of something sharp and brackish when it burns. 

The floors are covered in the pelts of things he’s hunted on the outskirts of the grounds - beavers, mostly, though a fox or two and even a sable marten, which he’d used to make trimmings on Maria’s gloves and hat late last winter. A single wolf pelt is lain out by the fire - a beast separated from its pack, driven mad as much by starvation as by solitude. On an amber autumn night it had tried to take a student, and met its end in the muzzle of Gehrman’s pistol. He’d managed to save everything but its head. He does the tanning in the workshops to avoid the overwhelming stink from settling in his cottage for good.

Instead, the claustrophobic space smells like his little assortment of vices - poppy resin and tobacco, mainly; with notes of a bright, floral gin, which he’d been told was odourless but was certainly not. It tastes like red peppercorns and berries, with a hint of copper, laced with regret. 

He takes his pipe and tobacco pouch and steps outside into the fading light. Rounding the side of the cottage he treads across verdant, mossy things that release fragrant evidence of their decay. A few mushrooms pop their smooth, capped heads alluringly from the soil, a flash of white like bare flesh against black robes. Not edible, Maria had told him once. Not if you want to see tomorrow. He’d laughed, and she’d looked at him strangely. Gallows humour, he came to learn, made little sense to her.

Sidling up beside Laurence, he watches the last of the afternoon’s fading light travel down the scholar’s back. The anatomist’s knees are planted squarely in the dirt, legs folded under him. His sleeves are rolled up, white cuffs stained around the edges, and his suspenders hanging loosely in the dirt around his waist. He’s left his robes hanging by the door, in the same place where Gehrman hangs the nets of nettle and flax for catching fish in the generous stream nearby. He’s long since ceased trying to weave or patch them himself; not since Laurence began to do it for him with the quick, deft fingers of a surgeon used to sewing more than just plant fibres.

Laurence cuts and gathers the leaves and stems with the kind of methodical boredom of a practised hand. Not for the first time Gehrman wants to chase off the other man, to berate him for laying claim to what isn’t his, a clever little wild animal always rooting around for something more. Always taking, this creature of appetite.

Instead he knocks old cinders from his pipe and pats down the fresh mixture before charring the top. The tobacco is sweet, the quality fair - a rare indulgence he’s allowed himself. He doesn’t mind the telltale bitterness of poppy resin laced through it, the way it settles in his mouth after each breath. The hiss of the match fills the silence between them. He takes a few sips before speaking. 

“Does Maria know you’re here?”

He watches Laurence place the leaves meticulously in the square of his neckerchief, laid out in the dirt beside him. The red silk, wet at the edges, gleams like a pomegranate.

“No. I’ll thank her for these later.”

Gehrman does little for the soil patch himself. Maria cultivates it, when she comes around: her own private garden, her own little research supply. When Laurence comes he only takes from it, as he does with everything else around him. And Gehrman, patient as the white cliffs whittled away by the sea over aeons, does not stop him. 

He tamps the tobacco and relights the pipe. When he exhales, the smoke curls invitingly into the darkening air. “I’ve decided I’ll do it.”

Laurence stops and looks up at him. The soil under his fingernails hides the ever-present ink stains.

“The suit looks steady enough,” Gehrman continues, under the weight of his gaze.“Watertight, the scholars told me, and reinforced with canvas. The helmet can withstand pressure much greater than the lake’s bottom.” 

“I know,” Laurence replies, turning back to the dirt. He lays marigold across the silk neckerchief. “I checked with the scholars myself.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Because I don’t trust it.” He tucks a strand of hair behind his ears with dirty fingers. “It’s a thing made by men. It’s fallible.”

Gehrman coughs through a smile. “But you trust the blades I sharpen in the workshop to keep you alive.”

Laurence brushes soil from a long, spindly valerian root. “A blade can kill a monster. It can’t defend against a lake.”

“No one else will go below.”

The scholar shrugs. “I’m sure they can find another fool with a death wish.”

 “Would you go?” Gehrman allows himself to press, chewing absentmindedly on the end of his pipe. “You want to know, don’t you? If there are more passages down there. Hidden ways into the tombs.”

Laurence opens his mouth, then closes it. Gehrman studies his expression, familiar enough after so many years of companionship. There’s something watchful about it - not animal wariness, but a sort of jaded watchfulness that speaks to a hurried, instinctive rush to action, held in check by the burden of consequence. He gathers some chickweed leaves gently in both hands and places them to the side before leaning back on his heels.

“I tried to talk Willem out of it, you know. But he wouldn’t hear me.” Something drifts languidly between them, long and iridescent, like a dragonfly. “Truthfully, I can’t understand why he still searches for seals. It’s been years. Eventually we will need to do something with the labyrinth relics. We’ve a cabinet of curiosities from the depths and very little practical research to show for it.”

“This will double my wages for the month,” Gehrman blurts. 

“A great consolation when you’re dead, I’m sure.”

Keep the garden in my absence, he wants to retort, but he doesn’t have the stomach for it now. The tombs took his father, and the tombs will take him. What use in pretending otherwise?

Laurence shifts on his knees, looks up at him through the last muted rays of daylight. Silently Gehrman refills the oil in the lantern that hangs from the roof’s shallow awning. The warm light ignites the copper in the scholar’s hair. 

Laurence plunges his hands back into the dirt, gaze focused on the vivid, bell-like blossoms of foxglove. “Who’s to accompany me on labyrinth expeditions, if you’re gone? Maria? She would push me down a well if no one were looking.”

“She would,” Gehrman concedes, his smile weary at the edges. “But you handled yourself well enough with a torch last time, if memory serves.”

Laurence scoffs at that, a disgruntled sound that matches his expression. They’d been separated for the first time, Gehrman remembers; someone had failed to leave the proper markers and they’d circled back, lost in the gloom, torches burning low. Gehrman had heard the scholars cry out in the same heartbeat he heard the bell - that malign silver sound he dreads on every descent. When he’d finally found them in the blackness they were at the mercy of a rat, all teeth and sinew and madness in its mouth - and Laurence, waving a torch with the kind of dogged indignation of a man who rebukes the reaper because he’s otherwise occupied.  

“Well enough that I almost set fire to the lot of us.” Laurence grabs a fistful of his own hair as if to make his point, cut just below his jaw, shorter than Gehrman ever remembers seeing it. 

“Aye.” The nauseating reek of burnt hair had made the rest of the blackened tunnels smell almost agreeable. 

He inhales deeply, tries to keep the taste of resin on his tongue. The foxglove blossoms look soft and inviting enough to caress in the pleasant glow. Laurence begins to fold the scarlet neckerchief on itself, carefully making sure not to crush the little trove of leaves and stems, delicate as vellum. Then, like an afterthought, he plucks a few leaves of mint and slips them into his sleeve.  

“Twenty minutes,” Gehrman says into the quiet hum of twilight. “Enough time to see what’s down there. No more.” 

Laurence looks at him with all the frankness of a fist to the face. “More than enough time to drown.”

Gehrman ignores this. “He’s looking for a Great One, isn’t he? Willem, I mean. Weren’t you the one to tell me water is a channel through which to commune?”

“It’s only a theory.” Laurence pulls his suspenders back over his shoulders and gathers the little bundle of silk in one hand. He extends the other to Gehrman. “And I sincerely doubt you’ll find a Great One waiting for you at the bottom of the lake.” 

Gehrman takes his hand and pulls the smaller man to his feet. “What if I do? I’ve heard it said the gods are merciful, if you can get their attention. Sympathetic, or suchlike, to our dull little existence.”

“Gods help me, Gehrman, do you believe every fanciful thing scholars tell you?” 

Gehrman’s chuckle rolls from his throat in thick puffs of smoke. “Only the ones I hear from you.” He lets go of Laurence and removes his hat, brushes the wild tufts of hair back from his cheeks and forehead, then puts the hat back on. “Will you come in and have a drink to my last night on earth?”

He watches Laurence chew the edge of a mint leaf thoughtfully. He turns away to spit the leftovers, then wipes the flecks of green from his mouth. His fingers linger over his lips. 

“Can I talk you out of it?”

“No, silver tongue. You can let me smoke my pipe in blessed silence." Laurence flashes a smile. The tight one, the one that shows his chagrin at the corners. Then he reaches into his trouser pockets and pulls out two coins. Gehrman catches their surface only faintly in the dim firelight. Old Yharnam silvers, from the looks of them. 

Without a word, Laurence takes Gehrman’s hand, lays the coins in his palm and closes his fingers. His expression doesn’t change. 

“If something happens, I won’t be the one to bury you.”

Gehrman makes his own face very still so that Laurence will not see the bitterness there. But Laurence only ever sees what he wants to see.

“And if you don’t drown, you can use them to buy something other than that vile gin you insist on serving me.” 

Gehrman dims the lantern and lets the night air chase the spectre of death from his face. 

“Come inside.” 

[charlieslowartsies]

Would you mind giving me a director’s commentary on Finding Freddy? I was curious why you didn’t like that one as much.

I know I've mentioned it in passing before but yeh sure. It's a personal tale tho, not much fun haha

Finding Freddy was a strange beast for me. I went into it wanting to pull the story away from being centered around Mike and the OG 4, wanting to explore the world thru the kga lens better. I shoved the timeline 9 years.

Okay. I brought in Danny, since he was the logical choice of who Mike would trust and who I thought me and the readers would enjoy. I brought in Springtrap as a good guy, separating him from William Afton while still making it clear that wasn't going to last long, but that Springy was someone we should sympathize or even empathize with. I wanted a story of fear of the unknown.

Ghost Strings was about loss and grief. Finding Freddy was going to be about finding oneself in the darkness and being afraid of what's inside you, but also what's behind you too.

And a finger on the monkey's paw curled lmao.

At the same time, in my real life, I was in the process of moving from my childhood home. I'd lived there for about 25 years, and though old and spooky and occasionally grouchy it was a wonderful house for a kid. The joint was full of nooks, crannies, two basements, (respectively titled the Old Basement and the New Basement, despite New Basement being 25 years old in 1993 when I came along, that was just it's name by then.) It had ghosts in every corner, stairs that creaked in unison on dark nights, about 2 dozen mice and it was safe and warm and familiar to me as my own bones.

For those that know the stories well, you can see where the restaurant's descriptions came from, especially in the opening of Finding Freddy.

Well, I wrote myself right into a corner, uncertain where I wanted Danny and Mike's future to head. Danny died in a few renditions. Mike died in others. Killing them off seemed like surrendering something I didn't want to give. I stalled out on the story. We moved into our new build around June 2017, FF had begun in Feb of that year. My golden Joey died around April, he was older and it was a relief because we worried the move would stress him out. Herbie, my graduation gift in 2015, filled out and completed his training and took a lot of my spare time that art wasn't getting.

Standing in my empty room the day I dropped the keys off, which had not been empty since...forever...it ended up leaving a deeper wound that I refused to address. I called myself silly, sentimental, I shrugged. I was being stupid.

It found a way out, though, because our troubles always do.

FF languished in the word doc. I started BATIM/Make Believe around then. The FNAF games weren't as fun for me as they used to be. I loved the new house, I was so so grateful that my folks gave me the second floor of our cape cod. I cooked with my mom in a big, new kitchen with appliances that worked and breakers that didn't trip. I took care of my father and his health issues. I explored the acres of woods we moved onto.

My rabbit I had through college died the following March. Hiccup. Old time readers know that Bonnie's loyal and sometimes snotty personality came directly from Hiccup.

I subbed for my mom's school, and Hiccup died one day before I started a two month job. I wanted out of it for the first few days, I wanted time to grieve. I wasn't given it. I didn't ask, my mom refused me. "You made a promise to work there. You made a commitment."

I didn't fight her. She was right. It was just a silly pet rabbit. The world shouldn't stop for me, for something trivial. I had no energy to do free lance work, and less energy to write for a fic I couldn't enjoy.

Turns out, living with Hiccup for so many years meant I slept to his background presence. His lil bunny sounds, monching hay and digging about in his cage and cannonballing my bed in the morning to greet me.

His ambience was gone, and for 3 months I got about 3-4 hours of sleep a night until I realized the problem.

FF started to rot. Another Five Nights was tended to, sometimes. More fics worked on. FF ignored. I felt so bad. I felt tired, angry, annoyed. I missed Mike. I felt I was writing Danny all wrong. I missed the Marionette. I wondered if I had taken Springtrap from the plot too early. I questioned Afton's motives. I questioned my motives.

I missed my childhood home. I missed college. I missed going to classes and having tons of work and dreaming of being an illustrator and getting paid to do what I loved. I missed having a life for myself.

Danny was trapped in the underground. I was trapped up on the third floor, feeling like Rapunzel in her tower. (When will my life begin?)

Danny became that mouthpiece for me. If nothing else, I learned more what Danny Fitzgerald wanted, even if I didn't show it until later stories.

Finally, finally, I pulled my shit together and updated the fic. 2020. Not as long as I've let other stories sit in purgatory, but for some reason with KGA it felt more personal to me. It hurt more. I was pretty pleased with myself for pushing onward. I had concurred this dragon, I was proud of myself.

And then I got a review that asked why I had taken 2 years to update. Nothing else in that comment.

I also received other kinder comments too, but in that one moment I remember sitting there and thinking 'wow, okay. Why am I bothering with this again? Why is this hobby draining me and why am I letting it?' All I saw was the negative in that situation, which was wrong of me.

It was a lesson I needed to learn. Write for yourself. Write what you want. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

I was able to justify bringing Marion back when I saw Lefty in Pizza Sim. I was able to bring in Mangle and explain Mike's survival because she protected him. Springtrap and Afton were given an escape so they could go ahead and set up plot for Last Shift. (And then in Lies Within, too.) The Michael Afton/Michael Schmidt theory was yanked until I had two Michael's to work with. Hiccup was further immortalized into Scraptrap. Max Afton was so much fun to create and write.

But Finding Freddy never quite lived up to my expectations.

I never lived up to my expectations for the story. It was a lot of things that culminated in me carrying a grudge for the fic.

I don't really carry it heavy as I used to, time heals all wounds. But it's the problem child of the series for me. London Bridge is old and the gang wasn't realized. I could excuse LB not being a good read, but at the time I liked writing it. Devil's Spine was fun, but perhaps shouldn't have been a prequel. That was okay, because it set a lot of building blocks. And DS lead to Ghost Strings, which I loved working on.

FF I didn't like writing, and nothing excuses it. It became a chore and I felt forced to write.

But the one thing I do like about it, is that I did finish it. And that did feel good.

[residentdormouse]

Hey, hi! You are on my BINGO card (like last year haha) and I was wondering if you could tell me literally whatever you can muster about Hayden and/or Stephanie (what they did before the world went to shit, their interests, hobbies, their personality, style, quotes, lyrics, colors relating to them, etc.)

Thank you so much and also eternally thankful to you for all the comments you left on Save a Prayer - I saw them and they made me really happy ❤

Hey there 👋 (and I'm still eternally grateful for last year; that gif makes me so rediculously happy.)

Most information on the 'Jumping to Wonderland' series can be found on this main post - questions/asks/playlists are towards the bottom. Granted, most of that is for Hayden (she has a full 101k story to herself before Steph and my others OCs really join in with Diving.) The best segments for her are: General History and Interview Questions.

But that's a lot of nonsense to dig through. More consise answers:

Hayden (Hadley) Flynn

Hadley worked for an organization that was constructed to help protect against supernatural elements. At first, her role was in experimental expeditions, and assisting in dimensional travel. When conflicting agendas were discovered within the, now redubbed, 'Institute', Hadley moved to a first line public safety position which better situated herself to help peaceful individuals. Shortly after, disturbances outside of their universe were picked up by her old department, and Hadley was tasked with investigating. Unfortunately, as they had found from prior missions, there was a barrier between their worlds and her knowledge was barred from her upon entry, along with most of her memories. With no recollection of her past, she could only stumble into this new world, picking up the name Hayden from one of her first companions - Stu Redman.

Hayden is naturally curious, and loves learning, but she is also a fan of the arts and relaxation. Especially relaxation. Good stories are essential. Comfy blankets, fluffy pillows, warms drinks, fires. As somebody with a higher anxiety level than others, she struggles to find a calm sometimes, and has been known to study breathing techniques and coping methods (some of a potentially questionable variety). Mediation also helps aid with setting up and maintaining an easily accessable mind library, which is a necessity for travelling. She is also an animal lover, which helps establish a light tone for her first interaction with Kojak, and in turn, Glen.

Teal is a color that is significant to her, and attached to a mental key of sorts. Her full playlist is here, although 'Smile' by Wolf Alice and 'Underworld' by Cyprss are go-tos for her. Style is more about comfort and practicality. Sweaters, jeans, sometimes a blazer for 'nicer' occasions. Layers and heavy coats are a must as she usually runs cold.

Stephanie Graham

Steph served as the 'tech guru' for her community. Working on the IT department of the hospital was primary, but she also set up her family and their friends. No, you can't just use the browser that comes with. That's your password?! Is that phone from this century? While she had her job, and was very close with her family, a good deal of her free time was spent in her apartment. A safe haven full of adopted house plants and stock piles of games. Video games, board games, multitudes of 20 sided dice. Her desk was a shrine to her fandoms and online activity. Does she have a Tumblr? Maybe, but she likes your shoelaces. Does she read fanfiction? C'mon that's not taboo anymore, right? It was a comfortable life. A manageable life. Until everybody started coughing...

Anxiety is also something that Steph suffers with, although that partly stems from her untreated ADHD. It is not uncommon to see her fixating, or obsessing over little things, and excitedly babbling on about something. There are many topics that she cannot be normal about, and expect her to really get 'in it'. Words coming out faster than they have any business being, and still not fast enough for her thoughts. This also happens when self consciousness kicks in too. Catch her appologizing for appologizing, and she appologize once more. For good measure.

Much like Hayden, Steph's color is in the green category. But while Hayden's is more of a jewel tone, Steph's is a reflection of her plants, and leans towards more of a forest shade. Her playlist is here, but her main song (and the original song I used when developing her) is 'Life is Short' by Bufferfly Boucher. Style is also a comfort concern for her. Flannels and t-shirts with jeans and chucks. Nothing fancy, she wouldn't know where to begin with any of that.

[grimmywrites]

10 Things About Me

I was tagged by the talented @patiently-burning. I’m happy to welcome you to the Ghostsoap brainrot, especially with @valiants amazing art. My favorite Ghostsoap artist! Their work makes me feral; I’d kill for them -- or at least write for them. Below for random facts about me!

1.) I double majored in Archaeology and Creative Writing in college. I idolized Lara Croft and Indiana Jones and then, luckily, fell in love with the *actual* science of archaeology and Roman history so I’ve managed to stick with it. 2.) I’ve lived on and off in Italy (semesters where I taught abroad) since 2017; and a couple times before that for my own study abroad program and archaeological digs/dives. 3.) I’m a runner! I usually run an hour, but sometimes I run up to 9 miles a morning not only to stay in shape but as meditation. I listen to audiobooks while I do it!

4.) I worked as a dog bather for a couple years to get money to go to grad school and then in a dog ‘boutique’ because I love dogs so much. I love all animals, dogs just happen to be my favorite.

5.) I’m a huge Resident Evil fan. I’ve been playing the games since they first came out (I was a little kid and had no clue what I was doing lol). I can literally rant on and on about the lore and timeline; og re4 and re2 are the best but I love the remakes and all the new fans!

6.) I’ve been published for scholarly writing, but it’s my dream to write fiction, primarily historical fiction.

7.) I’m an oddball who likes nerdy things *and* sports - I played varsity softball in high school and I’m still on an adult co rec team!

8.) I stopped writing fanfiction for a couple years while working on my thesis for grad school. I started writing again for Nellis because I reread some of my old stuff and wondered why I ever stopped with these characters. Writing them feels like slipping on my most comfortable shoes or a favorite shirt. After I read that stuff I got metaphorically slapped upside the head with the idea for Retread (the ending in particular)... and let’s just say it’s grown a lot from what I had envisioned; but I’m a gardener writer, so that makes sense.

9.) Besides RE, my favorite game in the world is an obscure RPG called Shadow Hearts. It’s a Lovecraftian horror game set in China and Europe just before WW1 breaks out - it deals with horror, the occult, and some zany characters. I cry every time I play it and its sequel (Shadow Hearts: Covenant). Most people like the second game better, but I find the first one to be creepier, have better music, and the characters are more interesting. The sequel IS a good game, though.

10.) I secretly wish I had more time! I often feel guilty because I’m more of a writer in fandom than a reader because I’m so busy with life smacking me every which way. I also wish I could output more, but alas, we can only do our best, right?

Thanks so much for tagging me! I’m not apologizing for the love of Soap or Ghost. That was a well written campaign! I’m going to tag more than one person: @peculiarreality-main and @ohlookapan!

[symphorine]

let's go see our friend varric and then do some stuff - talk to neve, fix the eluvian, run around the lighthouse, go to the crossroads, dig around into solas' memories some more.

theres not much in terms of interesting bits being talked about, but it drives me nuts that i can't deicde if varric is mostly a product of rook imagining him, or if he's mostly a creation of solas. because that gives very different interpretations to a lot of lines! when varric shows concern, are you imagining your friend, or is solas playing him how he thinks he would act? when varric talks about solas, how much is him/what he's told you, and how much is solas filtering his own vision of himself AND what he thinks varric's vision of him is? when varric gives you advice about being a leader, are you remembering his (kind of trite ngl, you rehash the same thing like three times if you go through the extra questions) advice, or is solas already trying to manipulate and mold you?

also this. it's either a cheeky foreshadowing/hint OR solas being an absolute asshole. i need to know!!!

lighthouse bits. the caretaker's shop is and has been accessible already but without them. also this above the library shelves:

that's elgar'nan's symbol right?? again, is this asset reuse or deliberate? because if deliberate then i have questions. esp when iirc later it's mentioned that elgar'nan views the lighthouse as solas trying to recreate something of his(?). i can't remember the details right now but hopefully when i come across it again i'll remember this bit.

next neve conversation about where to look for allies. we get pointed to lucanis (side note, rook can ask neve if "mage killer" doesn't bother her, but doesn't seem we can say anything if rook is a mage. i feel like personally i'd be a little bit alarmed!) and neve wants to go back to dock town and check in with the shadow dragons. also she is so pretty

she presents the shadow dragons as "They're a resistance group that fights slavers, blood magic, and Imperial corruption." i dont want to rehash too much things about how bioware clearly decided to throw nuance out the window and shied away from portraying slavery, but i'll repeat that it's a shame this is our introduction and then we don't really get to see them do that. i DID pick treviso and lose access to shadow dragons npcs on my first run so also very possible that on a saved minrathous playthrough, it's different, but that doesn't change the fact that slavery is in this game a little setting spice and nothing more. which sucks. and re: blood magic, it's frustrating that we do get in previous games more contrasted depictions, even in dai - in particular i'm thinking about a codex entry talking about a blood mage healer - but in veilguard blood magic is just 100% bad. it's not worth writing an essay about it here, but it's still disappointing (though not surprising - after dai the direction in which they were going for blood magic was pretty clear).

we go to the eluvian and bellara fixes it.

Harding: What is that place? Bellara: If I had to guess? It's the Fade. Another part of it, I mean. Neve: Didn't Morrigan say this eluvian could go anywhere? Didn't think that meant "elsewhere in the Fade". Bellara: She called it the Vi'Revas. "Freedom of ways". I wonder... [...] Bellara: Some of the older texts talk about a place in the Fade where all the eluvians meet. Bellara: A crossroads... where you could travel across all of Thedas in just minutes. Harding: Right! We saw something similar, when we were chasing Solas. I wonder if it's the same? Spirit (the Caretaker): It is alike. And it is not. [...] Caretaker: The wolf's fang. You carry it now. Caretaker: Old paths. A new journey.

Plus this codex entry:

Magic Dampener Notes Initial notes on the dampener's operation: -Dampener creates a counter-resonance to the Fade. That's why it's safe to live here. No one's been torn ap[art yet (that I know of). -But the counter-resonance from the dampener is tuned to this specific part of the Fade. The more you move away from this spot, the less effective it would be. -There's a theory that every mage has a unique resonance -- the way they touch magic is just a little bit different. -Theoretically, could you tune the dampener to a person's resonance instead? Make it so they couldn't use magic? -Would be hard to figure out someone's specific resonance. Would need examples of their magic. -Need third volume of Harris's Collected Essays. Will ask the professor if he has it. Bellara

I transcribed the convo because the Crossroads make me feel insane and I will talk about them a bit later. I love the codex entry, I thought Bellara's technical writings and musings were all really well done and interesting - before this, if you go bother her while she's fixing the eluvian, she also mentions waiting for lyrium to cure, and during this convo she talk about the distortion in the eluvian's special machinery. it's fun! it helps selling her as an actual expert as well, someone who does understand the workings and theory of things. also i loooooove magic tech. i just think it's cool. i also thought that part about figuring out someone's resonances and keeping them from doing magic would come back later, but it never did.

the thing that bothers me a little is her note of "asking the professor if he has it." she might be already corresponding with Emmrich at this point? although it wold probably have been a short acquaintance still. and he's obviously not there yet. just feels kind of out of place.

After this we finally have sun in the lighthouse!!!! a few screenshots:

cloudy sky, but finally sunlight which is soooo nice. in that third screenshit, we see a smoking chimney on a building attached to the library. wonder what the smoke is coming from? at this point I can't think of any open area that would cause it. of course, it's possible there are places in the lighthouse that are working independantly. The floating building with that half sphere also looks interesting, mostly because it's probably something specific. I said in a previous post that I think the lighthouse probably used to be much bigger - i think the floating islances used to be attached/accessible in some way to the main part where we are.

in the fourth screenshot, I (finally) noticed the symbol on the tower building. it looks like one of the other gods' symbol - i've seen people map it to sylaise? although nothing certain. would be interesting if it was though - in his exchange with elgar'nan later on (transcribed here) solas says that "our great cities came from Sylaise". For the Dalish, she is also known as the Hearthkeeper and is "the goddess of all domestic arts". Her way is also called The Vir Atish'an, The Way of Peace. did sylaise perhaps build the lighthouse before it became the hideout of the rebellion? did she enter the conflict with the titans or solas later, and this worked with him for longer? maybe she was, like ghilan'nain, not one of the very first born elves? we know frustratingly little about the evanuris other than mythal, elgar'nan and ghilan'nain.

either way, it is now less depressing to run around the lighthouse. yay sunlight.

onwards to the crossroads.

MIRRORS UPON MIRRORS This place is amazing. June's normal eluvians function with twinned lyrium fragments. One always leads to another. Solas somehow talked the Crossroads into making Fade-eluvians that override them. His own network to run our rebellion. Provided you ignore all the old stories about holding mirrors up to mirrors and getting caught in the infinite reflections. -Felassan

note you find on the side of the passage to the middle dock.

THE CROSSROADS MAKE ME INSANE. the best way i can reconcile all this is that the crossroads are the hidden hardware of eluvian travel that solas managed to access but that gets hidden by "regular" eluvian travel.

so the crossroads existed before solas tapped into them and "talked them into" making "Fade-eluvians". we also know there is at least one instance of separate crossroads: the one the evanuris used. briala, in the masked empire, also gains control of a (the? barring solas'?) network of eluvians - which COULD be the one the evanuris used. either way it cannot be this one, because she locked it with a secret passphrase that felassan refused to learn from her, and solas can't know it (yes felassan is in the book! if you want to see more of him you can read it). plus, upon entering the crossroads in the books, felassan says he has no idea what this place is - of course it's possible he's lying (although he doesn't tend to lie to briala), or him knowing about the crossroads in davg is a retcon bc they hadn't planned that bit yet.

page 278-279 of the masked empire:

"What is this place?" she asked Felassan, who was rocking back and forth on his heels. "You know, da'len, I honestly have no idea." He leaned over and poked at the stones. "It's not the Fade. The runes are elven... If I had to guess, I would say that our ancestors actually created some sort of tiny world between the eluvians." "Can that be done?" "Apparently." [...] "And this little world seems to like us." Briala was about the ask him to explain when Ser Michel stepped through the eluvian and onto the path. "Maker's breath!" he swore, shaking his head and stumbling. Briala reached out and grabbed one armored arm to steady him. A moment later, Celene came through as well. She stiffened, clutched her head, and dropped to one knee with a low cry. "Felassan, what's wrong?" It seemed worse for them than it had been for her. Celene shuddered, wincing, and used Briala for support as she slowly pulled herself up. "I suspect that this land was made for the elves," Felassan said as Michel stood up, stiff and awkward, wincing against the light. "Which they aren't."

So the crossroads they walk in the book are worse for humans than for elves - the humans also walk slower, and it takes them more effort, while briala notes she and felassan had been walking at a relaxed pace and she didn't feel exertion from it. the path ends at another single eluvian. when they go through it, they come into the mortal world again - in a chamber with several eluvians. in general, they go through several of those mirror-to-mirror paths to find more chambers - that are themselves a crossroads - and the elven runes they come across are also hard to impossible for the humans to decipher, but briala, in her pov, notes that they look perfectly simple and logical to her. she gains control to them and we're told that the eluvians are all activated - the ones still in working order at least - but dormant until she wills it otherwise, or presumably someone else uses the passphrase (although at the point she is the only one who knows it). it DOES seem like there are a fair number of eluvians that are working.

ok so my theory is this. the eluvians that briala controls are the ones the evanuris did - a physical network, with physical hubs, like changing buses or tram lines. felassan seemed to sincerely not know what the non-fade (but clearly not mortal world either) path between eluvians was, so maybe it appeard as the magic degraded over the centuries? and it used to be that this transitional space was imperceptible. the crossroads we use in veilguard are the same, or similar, to the ones morrigan takes us to in inquisition - and similarly used to not be fragmented islands, but a better connected whole, that allowed solas and his allies to go anywhere. and this was achieved by connecting the fade to the eluvians - basically hacking the eluvians. this means they are different in nature to thos inter-eluvian paths in the book, and that's why non-elves arent in pain when they enter them. why solas is the one who could do it and not the evanuris, I'm not sure. ok i think i've finally reconciled it all for myself.

side note but i miss felassan. honestly he should have been part of the "good end" with mythal and the inquisitor. bring back his ghost and make solas have a heart attack.

ALRIGHT NOW THAT IVE SOLVED MY ELUVIANS AND CROSSROADS CONFUSION. let's have a look around!

there are three different mosaics on the ground facing (chin towards) the three docks. they all seem to be stylized renditions of a wolf's face - the first with two eyes and some flourishes on the lower part fo the face, the second with six eyes, the third a flatter triangle - could arguably not be a wolf, but then idk what it would be. not sure what it means but i thought it was a neat detail.

we take the fade ferry of the dock in the third row of the pics, which is gonna lead us to (the fade island with the eluvian for) minrathous.

cool callback to kirkwall which used to be a slave port with those giant statues. now actually talk about slavery. :/

we see the refugee spirits - i wish this was a little more expanded upon just bc like. we're told this isnt exactly the fade. is it connected to it still? have these spirits been here since the veil happened? or do they freely come and go between the crossroads and other parts of the fade? and the gods' corruption encroaching is what is preventing them from leaving? also one of my only real complaints about sort of like, atmosphere stuff, which is that they really could have stood to use more than two (2) models for the spirits

we find this note in the main sort of. plaza. i can't say crossroads again that's just too many times in one post.

THE VANISHED CITY I'm dreaming, but this time I know I am. Even if I didn't, this place would tell me. I'd never dream of a place like this. Cities are full of people. An empty city is the bones of a good meal. A reminder that makes a hungry woman sad. -Susan Kravizielle, Jainen Circle, 8:20 Blessed.

she was dreaming and found herself in the crossroads. also interesting! they can't be that far removed in nature from the fade if someone can just stumble upon them in dreams. i also like the "An empty city is the bones of a good meal." line.

last section here will be the solas memory of ghilan'nain's lab.

we meet an elf, tarasahl, who talks to us as if we were a fellow agent of the dread wolf who'd been sent with her to infiltrate ghilan'nain's lab. it's clear with how she talks about solas that she respects him greatly, and that he's already seen as more than he is - greater than life, at least, a hero, if not a god. the labs are covered in blight, and solas comes in person to help you and tarasahl - bc of the gravity of the infection ("This unnatural corruption demanded my personal attention."). you split up again to find an exit route - "to the surface", so ghil's lab here is underground. rook notes that solas sounds "rattled" and "spooked [...] by the blight"

reminds me of the "horrors of hormak" story, where grey wardens find a strange pool surrounded by horrible experiments made of mashed up creatures deep under a mountain. the narrator collapses the path in and out of that, but there were carvings on the walls that indicated there were eleven other places like that, I think - other labs waiting to be discovered. I honestly thought they'd come in play in veilguard, but besides this memory, we dont actually see or get any info on where ghilan'nain is experimenting with darkspawn. kind of a shame, it could have been interesting - esp if you saw this memory before, and got to talk to solas after about the lab.

as we go and fight the memory's darkspawn, one of the companions notes that these are darkspawn that are similar to the ones we fought before in arlathan - rook says "Maybe the darkspawn we've been seeing aren't new. Maybe they're old." ghilan'nain blights tarasahl in the memory - she cries out "Wolf! Help me!", so again solas is like. this Figure, rather than just a man. i know varric says in the conversation earlier that solas "never wanted to be a god, he's just a man", so it's just a nice juxtaposition. he may not have wanted to be, but the way he act ("this corruption demanded my personal attention) and his position as leader of the rebellion, as the person responsible for his followers' freedom, show that he's already in that role, separated from the rest of his people. felassan, in his notes, seems to be consistent in their closeness, so i dont think solas was entirely isolated in that way, but there's already this pedestal under him.

AND THEN THAT FINAL DIALOGUE IN THE MEMORY

Solas: You would unleash a blight on this world and call it a masterwork! You, who were the most sensitive of us... Ghilan'nain: All that I am belongs to the pursuit of creation. You chose to contrain yourself. I must climb to the heights only understood by gods. Ghilan'nain: I go now to join them. [Ghilan'nain leaves, Solas watching her.] Tarasahl: Wolf... you are greater than any of them. Please. Help me. Rook (He won't help her): He's too afraid of the blight to do anything but end her pain. Solas: I am so sorry I failed you. There is only one way I can help you now. Tarasahl: Wolf... Solas (to Rook): This place, and the corruption within it, must be eradicated. No trace can be allowed to spread. Solas: Go. Your work here is done. There is no need for you to witness what I must do. [Memory ends] Rook: It's over. Solas destroyed the lab, the blight that was here... and his agent. Bellara: He wasn't just her leader, he was her god. And this is her reward?

bellara at the end is bc she was with me, but I believe any of the other companions would say something similar. I picked "he won't help her" this time around, but if I remember correctly what happens is the same no matter what rook chooses, the memory plays out the same.

I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THESE ANCIENT ELVES' DYNAMICS. BIOWARE.

it's not unlocked now, but we get these codices later on:

Letter from Solas to Ghilan'nain I have seen your creatures. Some are beautiful, some are horrific, but all are brilliant. I can understand how such incredible achievements could make one feel like a god. Perhaps that explains the terror you have caused, and the transformations wrought upon those unable to defend themselves. But you must know that you are not a god. You are a mage, and a title from the Evanuris cannot alter that. If anything, joining their ranks will bind you to their political will. You could make creatures to protect our people from the Evanuris. Why debase yourself and threaten our people by joining them? Of course, I know why. I hope you gain peace with Andruil. You would not be the first to sacrifice your morals for love.

and

Ghilan'nain's reply Solas: I have always respected your intellect and your investigations into magic's boundaries. But you err in assuming I seek a title. Like you, I am not among the firstborn. The Evanuris will grant me magic I could never attain. New forms, new matrices of blood, already swim in my dreams. This is not for Andruil. Andruil petitioned on my behalf. She supports me, always, in everything. You say to craft creatures to protect our people. I have already given them my halla. I made them when I was younger. Untraveled. Naive. I did not know then what flesh could do when compelled. Tell our people to treasure those animals. I could not make them now. At the bottom of the letter is the stamp of a stylized halla head.

it's getting late and i don't have coherent thoughts but solas and ghilan'nain clearly had a prior, at the very least cordial relationship, if not friendship! AND THEN WE GET NONE OF THAT BETWEEN THEM IN GAME. NO MENTION. WHY NOT. PLEASE.

the memory also places Ghilan'nain's ascension to the position of evanuris as happening during solas' rebellion, or shortly before maybe. she chose to do this despite the conflict, and solas pleading her not to (though he doesn't even believe it will work himself). whether the rebellion was already underway or not, solas' oppositon to the evanuris is clearly already firm and known.

most of what's said also reinforces again solas already being considered an equal to the evanuris - in power (whether deserved or not) and in standing. bellara's assertion that he was her god seems accurate, even if he didn't claim the title of god for himself.

i think it's also interesting to see solas' reaction to the blight... having played the game already we know that he is (along with the evanuris) responsible for it. he's scared of it and destroys it completely and ruthlessly - I don't know if he could have cured it or not in tarasahl (the game is. giving very conflicting information on curing the blight), and if he could have, if he wasn't confident enough that it would eliminate all traces of it. in present day, in inquisition, we've also seen him react very strongly to it, and very negatively to wardens, judging that infecting themselves with the blight to fight it is foolish and dangerous. i think he honestly fears the blight even more than the evanuris. for all that i keep thinking of how scared he looks at the ritual, when he turns around and elgar'nan and ghilan'nain tower over him; that he warns us they are very powerful, and they clearly always were, they are still... people. powerful ones, but you can fight. the blight spreads and infects and destroys no matter what and it any shred of it is present it will inevitably corrupt. it's a very different enemy, and even if none of it escaped more, ghilan'nain and elgar'nan bring more of it into the mortal world by virtue of being positively imbibed with it. they're carriers of the infection and its virulency - and then of course they're able to use it as a tool, but even without that it's a terrifying thing.

it's frustrating that he is so judgemental towards wardens without explaining why - partly bc of course it's hypocritical, but also bc i would love for him to give us more details on the blight and how it works. i also think this would have been a great opportunity to bring up broodmothers, if he knows they exists. fascinatingly horrible piece of lore. are they something that "evolved" so to speak, or did ghilan'nain create them first?

ok gotta go to bed now, but next is a little bit more crossroads, then dock town! extra screenshots for the road

[azurefaire]

Tumblr ate my response that was very ready to respond to you so I'll just number your questions and write them out one by one cause it wants to be like that ig

Ring of Belief art or it's plain aesthetic are everywhere, it took me 6 years into the fandom to realize- All over the old website, mini games, and most surprising in the original Pixie Hollow. At first I was like, wow according to irl keeper (artofdisneyfairies) they had it everywhere. And then I started seeing it so many places. They had it everywhere, in books and other stuff. Especially the earliest concept on there (their blog) when Pixie Hollow was called Tinkerland. One picture was everywhere on ebay products. This image behind Silvermist in Bubble Bounce is concept art for a deleted location called A Flower Shower.

These reference concept art of the houses that were on the website and other early material, but never in the movie.

The message stationery and fairy addresses had references to the early version, too. Like the rainbow one is ripped from Hovering Ponds, one of the early locations. And you could get that as an address too with Morning Glow Meadow, Hovering Ponds, Stillwater Springs, and Buttercup Canyon to name a few. Those are early locations that have their pictures in this old Windows Movie Maker thing here (yes really, the original website that had the photos with the names went down rip)

2. Sometimes the reason we as a fandom don't know things, is that they were waiting to be found. I started my journey into archival with this mindset and I feel very grateful for anything I was able to uncover, even if I found things in a broken state or from someone else- I was happy to have anything because it would take months to even find a picture (my biggest searches were for the flash minigames, and I found Hopeful's Quest in working conditon.) for this post, I ran a poll and "early pixie hollow" won- as someone who played Create a Fairy and never did the early previews in 2008 (I never started the game officially into 2011)- I knew there had to be something before the polished versions of the game, even the Pixie Pages. Especially after finding the DVDs. So I looked up stuff from Jesse Schell, who talked about the playtesting. From what I've learned from the Toontown community, there is always a version of what we don't see when it comes to games. The public had access to game previews, a pre beta, and beta. But I wondered if there was more, so I found that stuff on the play testing. I even wrote to Jesse, who sent me a presentation on "creating games for kids and parents" that I still havent gotten to yet lol

But I've always been digging for stuff and it's always amazing to see other people in the fandom have the same reactions as me when I uncover something new.

3. It's from Beauty Bright Tinker Bell from Jakks Pacific and it's easy to find if you just search it up, but also sold in two packs of mini dolls from the Jakks Pacific brand in 2007 specifically. However there are other versions with stories (different colors), two story versions which have been fully archived. One is the full DVD and another is just the short Fira's Perfect Tea Party.

But, if you have VLC Media Player you can download the ISO file here and enjoy the content. I play the create a fairy game on Wine on my Mac and was able to make many cool fairies as well as my originals.

Quotes on the early development Pixie Hollow (2008-2013) from Jesse Schell, the main creator/developer

This is so funny- Fairies couldn't fly/flying wasn't as prominent at first (from the Art of Game Design)

"I remember when we created Pixie Hollow, a massively multiplayer game for girls based on Tinkerbell. We had a whole design worked out that we felt pretty good about. We said, “Before we get into any production, let’s talk to girls and see how they feel about it.” We didn’t tell the girls, “Here’s what we’re thinking.” We asked really simple questions, like, “If you were a fairy, what would you do?” We thought we knew the answer. We were wrong. The answer was “fly.” We hadn’t been thinking about flying because we’d been focused on the Tinkerbell movie, where flying isn’t prominently featured. We immediately changed our plan. We made it so you’re flying every second of the game. Early conversations can be really important."

"Disney decided that they were going to reinvent Tinkerbell, that she was not the only pixie in Neverland, and that there were going to be a whole society of them. As soon as I heard they were doing that, I was like "how are you not doing an MMO?" It took a couple of years of pitching, but gradually worked up. We cut a deal where we did third-party development on it." (x)

Jesse also pitched the game to Disney outside of the company, so it was worked on outside of Disney

Here is what the game looked like during beta:

[doodlesfromthebird]

Hi, Canary! It's really nice to see you back. You've been one of my favorite internet artists since I found your work a few years ago, and I really admire your sense of character and costume design! I found you through KH, but I've since fallen in love with your original characters and story ideas, which are lovely. I was wondering if you had any advice for someone hoping to develop their own original characters and worlds. I've been trying to for a few years, but it still feels pretty daunting.

Hello!! Oh my goodness, thank you so much. I'm so glad! ^u^ I absolutely can give some pointers!

Here's a little guide with a few methods I've used to creating characters and developing the world they live in. I'm by no means a writer of any kind (I rarely create stories, and struggle with plot) but I am passionate about developing funky little dudes who live in your brain.

Designing a Character - Make a list. I somewhat recently compiled a document full of design elements, tropes, personality types, aesthetics I generally really liked to help build a small cast of characters I knew I’d have fun designing for. Think about your favorite characters in media and what you like about them! It could be a great jumping point to creating an OC you’re passionate about. That goes for relationship dynamics, too! 

Grab a handful of things from that list, 5 or 6 maybe, and there ya go!

- Make a moodboard. I’ve used this method to create characters based on A VIBE and building off that.

I’ve even figured out personalities just based on the “aesthetic text” I found associated with a color. Part of Cherri’s backstory and personality came forth simply because I kept finding Marina lyrics in pink. - Try using online dress up games! I used to use Dolldivine all the time to get creative. -  In addition to mood boarding, pinterest can also be a good resource for design inspiration with official concept art for movies/games and assets of those sort of dress-up games readily available. CocoPPa is a good example! [Let’s please respect the wishes of individual artists and either give credit when posting for inspiration or respect their wishes if they state not to repost their work at all.]  - In depth character creators in video games! Or simple ones! I’ve built up such an affection for even a few of my stardew valley farmers with their own personal bits of lore, they could probably be stand alone characters separate from the game at this point. Sometimes developing a character from an established setting can be a good base. Dig some of your old fan characters out of the closet, even!

Get to know your character

Getting to know your OC is one of my favorite parts of the process, and is something I find really important if you want to get attached to them. And you should!! The more these guys are on your brain, the more you start asking questions about them, and the more bigger details start to fall into place. - Go broad. Say you have the base concept of a character with their situation, their goal in life, their goal in the present moment, and the past/future that will effect them. What lies do they believe as truth? How has their childhood effected their habits and views? What's one secret they keep to no one but themselves? Who are the most influential people in their past and in their day to day life? - Go detailed. They're practically a roommate living rent free in your mind, so think about what a day in their life is like. Observe how they do small things. What are they eating for breakfast? How do they carry themselves when they walk? Nervous habits? What are they wearing to go to get quinoa from trader joes??? Detail what a few hours of what it'd be like to observe them, doing what they do every day and how they'd do it. - Give them an interview. Here's a blank bio sheet with a detailed list of questions that could be fun to fill out at your leisure! A lot of good questions to chew on. - Or quite literally give them an interview. Pretend they're sat down to answer some questions and think about how multiple characters would answer the same question. Do they overshare? Are they curt and to the point? Do they frequently lie and contradict themselves? What questions take them off guard? - Write about your own experiences. Giving characters traits and experiences you can speak from in a detailed  can really flesh them out as people and gives them that relatability. Even if they’re decidedly different from you as a whole, there’s that point of connection that anchors them to you.

Worldbuilding...ish

Developing a world is a little less easy for me to give advice on, as I’m very character oriented, so my worldbuilding is more of starting with the bigger picture and then filling in details that would affect the character directly, while some other things aren’t as fleshed out and water tight. (I’m working on it!) Some universes have more to them than others simply due to how much time I’ve spent with them over the years. But it’s important, a lot of fun, and gives all the more weight to the universe you’re developing.

- Research. If you’re like me and either have no writing experience or have difficulty pulling key world-building aspects from imagination, there’s a PLETHORA of resources to learn from, a lot of it free and on youtube, even. Make yourself a playlist, grab a notepad and sit yourself down to gather info, and map things out. If you’re, say, creating a country from scratch, look into places with a similar climate and how it affects what species live there. I’ve been researching dining etiquette and shipbuilding lately! It would be of great help to learn from writers as well, if you aren’t one yourself. There's A Lot of advice out there. - Ask cause and effect questions. I create a lot for the fantasy genre, so I get to ask questions like...”What does a world being shaped by the gods/guardians look like? How has their presence influenced the mortals they look after? Their culture, their customs, the way they communicate?  What’s the actual truth of ancient happenings and what has been passed down through a long, long game of telephone? What is the truth current day people believe about magic, technology and historical events? What kind of questions could you ask from the world you’re creating? -Appease your inner child. Think back on what captured your attention as a kid and how you experienced them through your eyes at the time. What sort of things did you feel experiencing your favorite games, movies or books that you can still tap into through a nostalgic lens? I feel incredibly attached to my The Spiral OC universe when I’m playing Legend of Zelda games, especially Wind Waker. The mood, the sense of adventure. The feeling of sailing the seas, the quietness of Windfall at night, the reverent silence when arriving at Hyrule frozen in time.  Those feelings have lent an atmosphere to the world I’d go on to create for myself, and still illicit a strong emotional response when I visualize aspects of it. the adventure, the monsters, the sweet and emotional tone, and the heaviness of ancient legend lost to time. - Immerse yourself in other people’s worlds. Get into a tabletop game podcast of your preferred genre! You’ve got high fantasy dnd, but there’s also plenty of sci-fi, modern fantasy, post-apocalyptic, and more. Listening to multiple people work together to build their world (sometimes as they go a long!) can really get that creative juice a-flowing.  Critical Role and The Adventure Zone are big ones, but I also recommend SkyJacks, Friends at the Table, Dimension 20, Dungeons and Daddies and JemJammer! Worldbuilding prompts/generators!  X X X I hope ANY of this was helpful, I’m happy to answer specific questions as well. 

[fallen-gravity]

Truth or Dare

“Are you kidding? I love truth or dare!!” Molly beams. “I can never convince anyone to play with me!” She excitedly claps, but after a brief moment passes she freezes in her tracks, tilting her head at him in confusion. “But…wait, how’s that any different from just asking questions we could just dodge the answers to?

The smirk on Scratch’s face just grows even wider. “That’s where I come in, dearest Molly” he bows to her sarcastically. “This won’t just be any ordinary game of truth or dare. I’m gonna put a temporary curse on us while we play so we can’t dodge any questions or refuse any embarrassing dares”

“Oooh!” Molly jumps to her feet. “That’s perfect! Do it!” she points enthusiastically in his direction. “Do it! Do it! I’m ready!”

Notes: 

This fic is dedicated to all of my wonderful friends over at the Mollycord discord server!! I love all the silly temporary curses and other little aus we come up with, and the truth or dare one remains to be my favorite, so you just know I had to cave and write a piece for it.

Enjoy four thousand words of these two being unapologetically the closest besties you've ever seen ;3

AO3

For all intents and purposes, let the record show that this was all Molly’s idea.

Sure, okay, maybe Scratch agreed to play along at the promise of pizza and ice cream. But if anyone asks, this whole two-person slumber party thing was all Molly’s idea. Nevermind the fact that he’s wearing a facial and letting her apply nail polish to the approximate area on his hands where his fingernails would be. This is torture. Yep. He’s doing her a favor, really. 

“Aaaand…there!” Molly exclaims. “I’m all done, you can look now”

Scratch takes one of the cucumber slices off of his eyes and cautiously pops it into his mouth to avoid the sensation of wet nail polish touching his tongue. He frantically waves his hand around to try and help dry it faster, and holds his hand out at just the right angle where he can look at his nails and Molly’s beaming face at the same time. 

“Well?” she bounces up and down. “What do you think?” 

The base color of the polish is such a dark purple that he’d almost think it were black, and there’s tiny blue and white dots delicately sprinkled on top as if to mimic a starry night sky. Each individual finger has its own unique pattern of stars, and knowing how Molly is with going over the top on these sorts of things, it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if it turned out that altogether they made a real constellation that represents friendship, or something like that. 

“I gotta say, I’m impressed, Molls” he replies, and smirks when the beaming smile on her face only grows brighter. “You weren’t kidding when you said you knew your way around the art of the manicure”

Molly giggles at that, a tiny smirk spreading to her face as well. “N’aww, you~” she jabs him in the side, and if not for his wet nails he most definitely would’ve smacked her hand away. “I’ve just had plenty of practice! Darryl used to let me practice on him all the time when we were younger before Mom caught us stealing from her stash and hiding them away from us, but now that I’m old enough to have my own allowance I can go out and buy my own secret stash!” 

Scratch snorts. “Like you have anything to hide, McGee.” He points an accusatory finger in her direction. “You have the innocence of a sleeping newborn kitten”

She gasps in mock offense. “How dare you,” she hisses, but the goofy grin on her face ruins the image of her fake anger. “I have plenty to hide from you!” She says, and as if to prove her point she digs under her bed until she finds the miniature shoe box she keeps her makeup in and shoves the nail polish back inside. She then joins him on her bed, slinging an arm around him in a side hug. “We may be besties for all eternity, but there’s still plenty that you don’t know about me. Maybe you never will!”

“Oho!” Scratch places a hand to his own chest in mock offense. “Is that a challenge, Molly McGee?”

Molly shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a huge smirk on her face. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Why?” A mischievous glint sparkles in her eyes. “Are you afraid you don’t know me as much as you think you do?” 

“Afraid? Hah!” Scratch exclaims, pointing a finger towards the sky. “Surely you know me better than that, Molls. Nothing scares me”

Molly snorts at that comment in a very we-both-know-that’s-not-true sort of manner. 

Scratch huffs in fond annoyance. “You don’t believe me?” He rubs his hands together, the bed beginning to warp and twist around them. “Then how’s about we make things interesting?”

“D’aww, it’s cute that you still think your spooky voice is gonna work on me” she gives him a few pats on the back, and the room around them instantly returns to normal. “What are you thinking?” 

“Hmm…” Scratch taps at his nonexistent chin, dragging out his response for as long as he possibly can just for dramatic effect. He glances around the room to look for some sort of idea on how he could prove to her just how great a friend he is, knowing all there is to know about her, and the mischievous grin returns easily to his face when his eyes fall to her friendship handbook on the bedside table opened to the “OPTIMAL SLUMBER PARTY GAMES” page.

“How about…”he redirects his shit-eating grin towards her, “...truth or dare?” 

For a fraction of a second, Scratch can see Molly’s eyes dart towards the handbook, but before he has time to question it she squeals so loudly that it surprises him that her window didn’t shatter at the sound of it. 

“Are you kidding? I love truth or dare!!” she beams. “I can never convince anyone to play with me!” She excitedly claps, but after a brief moment passes she freezes in her tracks, tilting her head at him in confusion. “But…wait, how’s that any different from just asking questions I can just dodge the answer to?” 

The smirk on Scratch’s face just grows even wider. “That’s where I come in, dearest Molly” he bows to her sarcastically. “This won’t just be any ordinary game of truth or dare. I’m gonna put a temporary curse on us while we play so you can’t dodge any questions or refuse any embarrassing dares”

“Oooh!” Molly jumps to her feet. “That’s perfect! Do it!” she points enthusiastically in his direction. “Do it! Do it! I’m ready!” 

She really does make it hard to seem all intimidating and scary when she’s smiling at him like that. Forcing himself to shove down the smile forming on his own face, he clears his throat, gently grabs Molly’s wrists, and begins;

“UNTIL WE DECLARE THIS GAME IS THROUGH

WE MUST SPEAK NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH

AND IN THE CASE WE’RE GIVEN DARES

EACH SINGLE ONE WE HAVE TO DO”

The room returns to normal, and just as she always is after she’s been cursed by a ghost, there’s a massive grin on Molly’s face. “Test if it works! Test if it works!” she claps, jumping up and down in place.

“Alright,” Scratch crosses his arms over his chest, trying to forget just how contagious Molly’s happiness can be sometimes. “Truth or dare?” 

“Hah! Easy. I pick dare” She crosses her arms to mirror his stance, a smirk spreading to her face. 

“Smart,” Scratch squints at her. “…But fine. I dare you to…” 

This time the pause that follows genuinely is so Scratch can put some careful thought into his response. He’d hate to dare her to do something potentially dangerous or life-threatening, especially in the hypothetical case that the curse backfired badly enough that they wouldn’t be able to stop doing the dare once they’ve started.

He shudders at the thought. 

Okay. Something stupid. Something potentially embarrassing. 

Something safe. 

“...do a headstand on your bed for…fifteen seconds straight” 

“Pssh, is that the best you’ve-” Molly begins, but she’s abruptly cut off by a bright pink glow encasing her entire body. As if she’s no longer in control of her body, she shuffles awkwardly onto her bed and stumbles around until she’s standing on her head. The pink glow encasing her reminds Scratch a bit of the same glow that surrounds him whenever she summons him from afar, but before he can put too much thought into that the glow disappears and she flops backwards into her pillow with a startled yelp. For the briefest of moments she just lays there in silence staring up at the ceiling, and Scratch is almost afraid that he broke her, but then she bolts upright with a giant smile on her face. 

“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced!” Molly yells, and she’s right back to repeatedly jabbing him in the side like she didn’t just temporarily have her free will ripped away from her. “Your turn, your turn! Truth or dare?”

Scratch can’t help the smile tugging at his face at her enthusiasm. “Alright, McGee, but you’re gonna have a pretty hard time getting any sensitive information out of me.” He crosses his arms and sticks his tongue out at her. “Dare.”

“Oh corn, and I had such a great question for you, too” she pouts dramatically, and pauses to take a look around her room. “Aha!” she exclaims, pointing to the empty ice cream pints strewn around the entrance of his offering house. “I dare you to go get us some more ice cream!” 

Scratch snorts. “Ice cream? C’mon, Mol, I was probably going to go get more soon anyw-” he starts, but before he can finish he’s suddenly encased in the same pink hue that had just overtaken Molly moments prior. Between one blink and the next, he feels a powerful force yanking him down through the floor of Molly’s room with a startled yelp. Scratch squeezes his eyes closed to avoid watching the rest of the rooms of the McGee household blur past him as he’s tugged god knows where, and only opens them once he comes to a complete stop and realizes that…he’s freezing cold.

Wherever he is, there’s scattered boxes of frozen dinners and ice cube trays everywhere, and…

…Oh. It’s just the freezer. 

Scratch shoves aside the small stack of frozen pizzas and boxes of popsicles until he finds the last two pints of ice cream that had been shoved to the back corner to hide them from, well…him. He places the two pints under his arms, and stretches his hands out of the freezer and into the cupboard to grab a couple of spoons, and the moment he does he’s surrounded by a pink glow and yanked upwards to Molly’s room again. 

“Oh, thank corn,” Molly wheezes in relief when he appears in her room again, a hand placed to her chest. “I was afraid that since I didn’t clarify that we still had some in the freezer that you were gonna be sent all the way to the grocery store in Mewline, or something” 

“It’s a truth or dare curse, Molls, not a genie granting wishes” he smirks, and pops the cover off of the pint of Moose Tracks before handing it to Molly. “Speaking of truth or dare, though,” he pauses to pop open the pint of Rocky Road ice cream for himself, “it’s your turn”

“Mmm!” she hums through a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. “Dare!” 

Scratch squints, jabbing his own spoon in her direction. “You know you’re gonna succumb to picking truth sometime tonight, don’t you? You can’t keep this up all night”

“Hehe, yes I can” she giggles, shoveling another bite of ice cream into her mouth. “I’ll say it again. Dare”

Okay, knowing how incredibly stubborn Molly can get, she’s probably not that far off from telling the truth. If he wants to get even a smidgen of dirt out of her then he’s gonna have to start playing dirty himself; if he wants Molly to play truth, Scratch realizes, he’s gonna have to scare her out of playing another dare. 

“Alright, McGee, you think you’re so clever? Then I dare you to go into Darryl’s room, open up Heidi’s cage, and pet her for…three seconds” 

Molly chokes, and her spoon falls from her hand to her bedroom floor. “Oh…oh no no no, Scratch, we both know I can’t-”

“Up up up!” Scratch interrupts her. “You remember what we agreed on. Either we tell a truth or we have to complete a dare.”

As if on cue, the bright pink hue surrounds Molly again, and her eyes go the widest Scratch has ever seen them. Against her own will she stands to her feet, and as she stumbles past him on the way to the hatch door leading out of her room she whispers a panicked “I hate you” in his direction. She stumbles down the stairs with the grace of a baby deer, and though Scratch stays put instead of following her because he’s quite frankly terrified of Heidi himself, he can vaguely make out the vague sound of Molly whimpering and squeaking as she opens the cage to say hello. 

And just as quickly as she left, Scratch hears the sound of her booking it down the hallway and up the ladder steps to her own room. Her face is the palest he’s ever seen on anyone, and that’s including all of the little kids from that one birthday on last month’s scare report. Her eyes look kind of hazy, like she’s about to pass out, and there’s a part of Scratch deep down that almost feels kinda bad that he asked her to do such a thing. She flops face first into the pillow on her bed, and for a moment Scratch is afraid she actually did pass out, but she speaks up before Scratch even has time to do a panicked check on her pulse.

“Okay,” she wheezes between gasps of air as the color returns to her face. “I see your point.”  She sighs, and briefly closes her eyes as she slowly sits back up. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

…Yeah, okay, he also knows that Molly isn’t above petty revenge. If he chooses dare this round, he wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she managed to come up with something much, much worse, like daring him to hold Heidi and let her crawl around on his arm for thirty seconds, or forcing him to go volunteer at the senior center and help give them baths, or something like that. He shudders equally hard at either thought. 

“...Truth” 

Molly’s eyes shine like stars when he chooses that option, and suddenly he fears that more than any petty little dare she could’ve come up with for him to do.  If his heart still worked properly, it’d be beating out of his chest for sure. 

“Eeee, I’ve been waiting for you to pick truth all night!” She squeals, clapping and bouncing in place. 

…Okay, yeah, he’s terrified. Never in his entire afterlife did Scratch think he’d ever find a smile this adorable so petrifying. 

“You ready? Here comes the truth bomb” she mischievously rubs her hands together, a perfect mirror of the gesture he’d done to her earlier. “Scratch…” she begins, grabbing him where his shoulders should be and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “I know you like to pretend you’re all grumpy and grouchy and not really care about anyone, but...I gotta know, underneath all of that…” she pauses, her beaming smile only growing wider and wider by the second. “What do you really think of me? What are ol’ Scratchy’s thoughts on widdle ol’ Molly McGee?”

….Oh no.

Of all the possible questions in the world that she could’ve asked, that is by far the scariest one she could’ve chosen. It’s not like he secretly hates her, or anything, so it’s not like he’s afraid of hurting her feelings. Far, far from it. The honest truth is that he’s come to think of her as the family he’s never had, but he just knows that if she ever finds out then she’ll never let him hear the end of it, and she’ll spend the rest of his days calling him Scratch McGee, or something equally cheesy along those--

Wait.

His mouth is moving.

His mouth is moving and he’s talking out loud and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“You? Molly McGee?” his traitorous mouth is saying, and there’s nothing he wants to do more than to curl up under the sheets of his little bed in his little house and just hide away from it all. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I act all grumpy and dismissive because I haven’t completely come to terms with it myself, but…I love you more than anything else in the whole world, Mol. I love you more than I love myself. You’re the sister I never had, and….the sister I never knew I needed.”

If he could still blush, Scratch is sure his entire face would be on fire. He’s almost sure his entire face is on fire, he’s that embarrassed. He covers his face in his hands, not wanting to look Molly in the eyes. All of those things are the complete and utter truth, because it’s not like he could ever even come up with anything so saccharine as a joke to mess with her even if he wanted to. N-not that he would want to anyway, because he’d never joke about something like that, he’d never wave his very real desire to feel wanted and loved and part of a family again in front of his own face like that, not when he’s so afraid of the no, of the scoff or the glare or the back turned in his direction at even humoring the idea of inserting himself into that picture. And sure, maybe he could find comfort in knowing that Molly’s not like the rest, she would never turn him away, but she’s always just referred to him as her best friend, the same way she refers to Libby, and he’s never once heard her say that she considers Libby part of-

His own spiral of panicked thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of Molly sniffling. 

Oh no, he hadn’t continued on his self-deprecating spiel out loud, did he?  It didn’t seem like he said any of that awful stuff about himself out loud, but on the off chance that he did, and he went and dumped all of that on her shoulders right after he just told her that he loved her, he’d feel awful. He opens his mouth to apologize to her for being such a mess, but she speaks up before he has time to get a single word out.

“...Sister?”

It’s a hushed whisper, jam-packed with all of the emotion of someone who’s about to start bawling, but also with all of the wonder of someone who sounds as if they just received the best news of their life. Scratch finally finds the strength to pull his hands from his face to look at her. There are already tears rolling down her cheeks from her alarmingly wet eyes, and she’s just looking at him with the softest, sweetest smile he’s ever seen in either of his lifetimes.

“You…you think of me as your sister?” 

“W-Well, yeah!” Scratch stammers, immeasurably grateful he has control over his own words again. “B-because you annoy me like one! A-and you’re always invading my personal space, no matter how much I tell you to leave me alone! It’s…It’s an insult, really, I-” 

He’s trying, he really is, but the more he rambles and the more walls he tries putting up, the bigger Molly’s smile gets. Curse her and her ability to see past all of them. 

She giggles as she wipes at her eyes with her wrist. “You know, I could’ve just settled for you’re my best friend,” she tries to quip, but her voice wobbles and there are new tears in her eyes before she can even finish her sentence. 

“Yeah, well, you’re that too” Scratch crosses his arms over his chest. “Happy?” 

That just makes Molly spiral into a fit of giggles, but between all of that she manages a nod of her head. 

…Speaking of best friends, though…

“Alright, McGee, don’t forget that it’s your turn. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” she answers quickly, wiping at her eyes once more for good measure.

Perfect. Just the response he was hoping for. “On the topic of best friends,” he begins, clasping his hands together and smiling mischievously. “What do you really think of me? I know you love wearing your heart on your sleeve, but I see you parading that best friend label around to all of your friends, and I’m finding it hard to believe you don’t secretly value me above all the rest”

“Oh!” Molly’s face lights up, which is not at all the reaction Scratch was expecting from her having to choose between which of her friends she likes the most. “That’s easy! You’re…you’re like an older brother to me, Scratch. I know I’ve already got Darryl as my younger brother, and that you and I haven’t been cursed together for all that long, but…” she rubs shyly at her arm. “...I’ve always secretly wished I had an older sibling to show me the way, and...it already kind of feels like you’ve been a fellow McGee my entire life. I can’t picture the McGee family without you in it, Scratch. I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have the honor of having you in my life.”

…

…Oh. 

…Okay, Scratch wasn’t expecting that kind of answer at all.

His traitorous face is reacting before he has time to think of a cover-up. His breath is hitching uncontrollably, and before he has the time to hide his face away in his hands again, he can already feel tears rolling down his face.

“Awww, Scraaaatch~!” Molly coos, and pulls him into a hug. “It’s okay!” She cheers. “You can let it out, buddy, I’m right here”

For some reason that choice of phrasing just has Scratch spiraling even harder, and he finds himself trembling against her for a few moments. He wants to let himself embrace it, he really does, but...no; he’s learned plenty enough lessons about vulnerability in the past, even around the people who earnestly told him they loved him. He pulls himself away from the hug, and clears his throat before he speaks to cautiously try and prevent his voice from wavering again. 

“C-C’mon, Molls, we still have a game going on. It’s my turn. Hit me with it.”

“Okay,” Molly smirks. “Truth or dare?” 

“D-Dare! Hah!” he stutters, because he just knows that if he continues to pick truth then they’re just going to nosedive further and further into this mush fest. But Molly just smirks at that answer, like it’s exactly what she was hoping he would say, and she opens her arms all big and wide.

“I dare you to hug me for…thirty seconds!” 

Yeah, okay, maybe he should’ve seen that coming. Molly beams the moment she sees the pink hue surrounding him, and catches him in her arms the moment he crashes into her. She winds her arms around him to give him a big ol tight hug, the same way she always does, but this time she tilts her head to rest it against him, and for some reason that gesture makes all the difference, because Scratch realizes that it makes him feel…safe. Something about her soft cheek resting against his head makes him feel protected, like nothing in the world can penetrate him if he just stays here in Molly’s arms. She hums happily as she shifts her arms around, and there’s something so…comforting about the way she holds him. Sure, she may give the tightest hugs he’s ever experienced in either of his lives, but there’s also something so delicate about them, like he’s the most fragile, precious thing in her life. 

There’s something inexplicably overwhelming at that thought. Subtly, gently, Scratch allows himself to nestle up against her, like if he just stays right here in her arms he can just soak all of the love right out of her. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed by the time Molly speaks up.

“Scratch?” she whispers, like she’s afraid speaking any louder will break him. “I think your thirty seconds are up, you can let go if you don’t want to-”

“I know,” he mumbles, before she can finish that train of thought. She doesn’t reply to that, not at first, but then she readjusts so she can wind her arms around him again. 

…Huh. He hadn’t even noticed that she had been the one to let go first. 

“Do you want to...call the game here?” she mumbles, once her cheek is back resting on his head.

“Y-yeah,” Scratch replies, nodding his head. “Yeah. This…this seems like a good stopping point”

Molly hums happily, squeezing him just a bit tighter. “Yeah, I think so too.”