#Like when a lot of these generators were first surfacing I was thinking 'wow a cool way to make quick throwaway npc portraits for dnd!' lol

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

feeling veryyyy normal thinking about being offered as part of bounty to the ghoul because the bounty poster doesn’t end up having the caps they promised him. and they need to pay him somehow. they’ll offer him their lil captive vaultie as payment for the rest. 👉🏻👈🏻 will he accept?🫣

A Fair Trade

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,980

Warnings: smut (18+), p in v sex, oral (m receiving), creampie, sex as payment for debt, human trafficking typical of the Fallout universe.

Summary: The Ghoul always gets what's owed to him.

Notes: Oh, wow! My first submission-type ask! I'm genuinely super flattered and totally open to doing more. I initially ballparked that this would be around 2,500 words and it ended up almost 4,000 because I have no self control when it comes to this man. I will try to keep other submissions a little shorter, generally, to hopefully get them out quicker.

To the anon: This may have turned out...sweeter than you may have envisioned? Maybe that's not the word. Less rough? If so, my apologies! I hope you still enjoy.

Things had been...unfortunate for you since you had decided to leave your vault.

Looking for a taste of something new, chasing the feeling that the world had other things for you to experience, you had managed to make it to the nearest settlement of any import with only a few scrapes and bruises. But, regrettably, you lacked a true understanding of how cruel and selfish people on the surface could be, and you quickly ended up the captive of some random outpost runner.

Well, you'd been traded to the outpost runner. You still weren't quite sure how that had come about, even after weeks and weeks had passed, but, frankly, the scrawny, dirty man was a lot less scary than the guy who had initially captured you. He wasn't not scary by any means (no one up here really was, as far as you could tell); he still confiscated your things and locked you into the small room in the back that you were fairly confident was intended to be a closet every night, but he hadn't really done anything to hurt you so far. You were given a pillow, at least.

But you were growing increasingly uneasy with not knowing what his plans for you were. Worst case scenario, you guessed, he could kill and eat you like you'd heard some surface people did, but that didn't seem to be the case. Nevertheless, the way he eyeballed you, "accidentally" brushed against you with increasing frequency, made you uneasy. Maybe he'd bought you to be his wife, or whatever the Wasteland equivalent would be. You imagined that in the next few weeks he'd offer you more favorable sleeping accommodations...so long as you shared them with him.

Maybe you could accept, kill him in his sleep and flee. You really didn't treasure the idea of ending someone's life, but...you needed to get out of here, and soon.

The sound of the creaky, rusted front door hinges flexing drew your attention, distracting you from your bloody ruminations and the pile of scrap you'd been sorting through. The front office hadn't been loud, but the small murmur of voices instantly faded, a clatter of movement towards the door, followed by some very familiar sounding footfalls. He was back.

The tall, noseless, rad-ravaged man made his way in multiple times a month, sometimes even multiple times a week when the bounties were easy and the work was plentiful. You'd seen each other somewhat often the past few weeks, as your keeper had begun to allow you to clean and assist in the front of the office more and more. It was both better and worse; the days passed with less tedium and you got to see some of the interesting characters the desert produced. However, many of those characters sized you up with predatory eyes, as if they were estimating how many caps they could sell your flesh for in their heads. The ghoul had yet to give you that feeling, interestingly enough.

You'd heard whispers all over town about him, about all the things he'd apparently done, how he was supposedly hundreds of years old. You didn't believe that for a single second. After all, despite his fascinatingly gruesome appearance, he was just a man, wasn't he? A man with very advanced radiation sickness (and a rather unfriendly general disposition), but a man nonetheless.

Sometimes, you felt as if he was certainly looking at you the way a man would. You were unsure, frankly; social etiquette was so vastly different on the surface than it was at home. It sure seemed like he let his eyes linger on you, on your body. Perhaps he was simply curious about you, as you were about him; most people seemed afraid to even look his way, or too disgusted by his condition to even consider it.

"You wanna run that by me again?"

Your ears pricked up instantly at the tone in the ghoul's voice, your heckles raising as you sensed trouble. Tiptoeing towards the door to the front room, you stood as close as you dared, shoulder touching the rotting door frame as you listened in.

"I told you, we were robbed a few nights ago. I don't have the full payment for you right now. This is everything I've got."

You knew your keeper was lying, about the robbery, at least; the place was so small that if anyone had been in to steal anything, you'd have certainly known about it. Whether or not he really had the caps, you didn't know, but you supposed he didn't, figuring that he wouldn't take the risk of pissing off the ghoul if he did. You had overheard him discussing gambling on a few occasions.

"Well, you better find something to make me whole, quick." came the ghoul's acidic reply.

On some level, you understood his frustration. The work was done, the bounty delivered. Un-delivering it wouldn't make up for all the time he'd put in. But, you also knew his reputation for being unforgiving, and you felt a chill run up your spine as you began to fear that he would kill your keeper and you if he didn't find some sort of satisfaction soon.

"I don't have anything worth anything. I told you, this is all I have." the scrawny man shot back, trying to sound confident, tough.

However, based on the way his voice trembled and faltered, the uneasy way he cleared his throat, you suspected the ghoul knew he was lying, too, confirmed only a moment later by what you were certain was the sound of a gun thwish-ing out of its holster and cocking. Your heart flew up into your throat, hammering even harder when, a second later, the lighter sounds of the scrawny man's footsteps rapidly approached the door of the back office. Scrambling back towards the desk, you'd only closed about half the distance when the door flew open, the man grabbing at you almost blindly, his long, dirty nails digging into your exposed wrist as he dragged you, protesting, out behind the counter.

"Hey!" you hissed, trying your best to snatch your arm back out of his grip and failing, infuriatingly. You were momentarily blinded with outrage that he would offer your body to someone to cover his own debts, though you supposed that was just how people did things in this awful place. Your eyes, feeling like they could pop out of your head they were so wide, flew to the man on the other side of the counter, who was assessing you with a look you couldn't read.

"What about her?" the scrawny man asked, and that was the final straw. If things were going to get worse for you, you weren't just going to accept it with a smile. The fingers on your free hand curled into a fist, which you smashed into the side of his face, causing him to release your arm in shock. Almost instantly, he jerked towards you, but the Ghoul pointed the modified pistol in his hand further into his face, stopping him.

"Now, how're you gonna offer me merchandise and then try to damage it in front of me?" he said, speaking to the man, but not looking at him. He was still looking at you, an intrigued glint in his eyes. They were...pretty, actually. Warm and golden brown. Was he really thinking about taking the offer? You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about what his body would be like underneath all the layers of clothing. However, the entire situation had your walls up high, your whole body trembling slightly.

The Ghoul stepped slowly around the counter towards you; the scrawny man shrunk away, the gun still pointed in his direction, while you held your ground, doing your best to keep your head held high as he stepped right into your bubble, your chests almost touching as he seemed to really size you up. After a moment of incredibly tense silence, his eyes moved to the door, then back to yours. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

"Alright. C'mon, Vaultie." he said simply, turning on one foot to make his way back to the other side of the counter. You hesitated, but soon moved to stand beside him, a surreal feeling washing over you.

"Hey! No fucking way, man! You can't just take her for keeps. She's worth way more caps than I owe you!"

The man was even more red-faced than usual, his tone downright indignant, but he didn't step out from behind the counter to follow.

"Ah, but, see, once we factor in the interest on my missed payment, hurt and suffering, on top of my 'you're a dumbshit' fee...I think it's a wash, personally." the Ghoul replied, leaning back over the counter into the man's dirt-speckled face. He clearly wasn't in a place of strength to negotiate, and his angry gaze moved to you again before he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What the fuck ever." he grunted.

You felt your body relax noticeably as the bulk of the conflict seemed to pass. However, there was a small amount of unfinished business you wanted to address before you left this place. You crossed your arms, turning your narrowed eyes to your former keeper, feeling emboldened with the Ghoul standing at your back.

"Where's my bag you took from me?"

Soon, you were back in possession of your things, including your Pip Boy, which you fretted over as you and your new keeper set out the door and into the desert heat. As you walked, you flexed the sore fingers on your hand absentmindedly. Soon, you were pouring sweat, pausing briefly to peel the top half of your vault suit down to your waist, tying the sleeves around you hips. The Ghoul appraised you silently as you did, taking a hit off of an inhaler from his pocket before continuing on.

As grateful as you were to be away from the trading outpost, away from the scrawny man and his uneasy ways, you couldn't help but worry in the back of your mind, fret at the possibility that you were going somewhere worse. It was being too trusting that got you into your situation to begin with. You worried at your lip with your teeth as he began to direct you down the road, his hand flat and firm between your shoulders. You weren't sure if the gesture was intended to be one of comfort, or if he was simply ready to snatch you up by the back of your vault suit if you decided to try to run.

The two of you walked in complete silence in the direction of the setting sun for what felt like a hundred miles. In truth, your Pip Boy revealed that you'd only gone a single mile and some change when the sun fully dipped behind the horizon, granting some blessed relief from the sweltering heat. You kept on a while longer, until the stars began to appear; eventually, the man veered from the decrepit highway, steering you to a little alcove in the rocky hillside, barely big enough to be a coyote's den.

"Alright, we'll bed down here for the night. Gettin' too dark to keep walkin'." he said, dropping his bag on the ground in a little cloud of dust as he turned to survey the site suspiciously.

You stood waiting for him to direct you, your fingers wrapped tight around the straps of your backpack, watching as he checked around wordlessly. After a few minutes, you chose one of the flatter rocks around and sat against it, watching as he built a small fire, inhaling some of the rations that had been hid away in your bag. Eventually, the ghoul threw himself down on the other side of the flames, facing the highway, and did the same, tucking into something canned from his bag. Things were quiet for a while, but eventually he spoke to you again, his voice pulling you away from fidgeting with with your Pip-Boy.

"Y'know, you're insanely lucky he didn't sell that thing. Can get quite a bit for a functional one these days. Moron didn't know what he had." he said, still chewing.

You blinked at him, your eyes flitting between the gadget on your arm and him, unsure how to respond. Briefly, you felt a growing sense of apprehension, but he must've sensed it, as he rolled his eyes and sighed softly as he swallowed.

"I'm just sayin' you're lucky you still have it, kid. Don't piss your pants. Trust me, if I wanted that thing, I'd have taken it from you already." he said, tossing the now-empty can over his shoulder.

You nodded silently, willing the tension out of your spine as you watched him dig around inside the oiled leather saddle bag once more. He produced a silver flask and a canteen, taking long pulls off of one, then the other. He then took another drag off of the inhaler he'd been puffing as you walked. Eventually, he stood, gave his back a stretch, and shrugged the long, tattered duster from his shoulders, splaying it out quickly on the ground behind him before turning back to face you.

"Alright, darlin'. Get your little ass over here."

You felt yourself freeze almost completely, your head turning sharply towards him. He hadn't said anything about the initial deal for so long that you weren't sure he was actually interested.

"What? I accepted you in lieu of payment. That means you are the payment, sweetheart. And I do intend to collect." he said, plainly amused, sinking down to the ground, his back sliding against the red rock behind him. "Besides, I've seen the way you look at me. Don't pretend you're not curious."

Your cheeks instantly felt agonizingly hot; had you been that obvious in your interest in him? Every day, something new in this place made you feel so silly, so naive. But, at the same time...he wasn't wrong. He might be rough-looking overall, but he'd been kind to you so far, and he did have quite a nice build. Besides, it had been weeks since you'd felt sufficiently alone enough to masturbate. A tad awkwardly, you went to lift yourself to walk to him when he cut you off.

"Mmm. How about you crawl?"

You felt your face twist into a mask of indignant confusion, and he chuckled. Hesitating, you made measured eye contact with him over the flames, quickly realizing, as those mischievous eyes glinted back at you, that he was serious. You swallowed hard, pulling yourself slowly onto your hands and knees before crawling the half-circle around the small fire as quickly and as dignified as possible, though there felt like there was very little dignity in it anyway. You stopped at his feet, kneeling with your hands on your thighs and looking up at him, trying your hardest to not seem as nervous as you felt.

"Take your shirt off." he ordered, head tilted as he watched you quickly pull the grimy undershirt over your head, tossing it near your bag. The night air was cool on your bare breasts, your sensitive nipples quickly peaking into hard little nubs that stung slightly. You wanted to press your warm palms to them, soothe the ache, but you didn't want him to think you were trying to cover yourself, so you simply sat, staring again, waiting for further instructions.

He grinned at you, leaning forward into your space, his gloved fingers stroking along your jaw, sliding a single one under your chin to lift your eyes fully to his. They were just as pretty glinting in the dying firelight as they had been in the outpost office.

"Y'know, you take direction pretty well, Vaultie. I like that in a lady." he said, tone low and conspiratory.

Your entire face burned now, even your eyes feeling hot, but that fire spread its way down into your core, blooming between your thighs, and you shifted slightly to press them together harder.

Reaching down, he made quick work of the belt holding up his pants and his fly, tugging free a cock that was about as red as the rest of him, the bulbous head glistening with precum already in the yellow-orange glow of the fire. Your tongue darted out to swipe at your lower lip, and you crawled up his legs to look closer. The Ghoul seemed surprised, leaning back ever so slightly from you as you came near, giving you room to move close and wrap your hand around him, drawing out a long hiss from between his yellowed teeth.

"Right on it, eh?" he chuckled almost breathlessly. "I like that in a lady, too."

You shot him a bit of a chastising look as you began to work your hand up and down over him, your free fingers coming to play along the weeping slit of him, earning another groan. He was a pretty average length for his height, you thought, but thick and already almost completely hard. It didn't seem like it would take much work to get him the rest of the way there. Your musings were interrupted by the feeling of his leather glove brushing against the swell of your breast before encaging the whole thing in his palm, massaging almost reverently. You whimpered when he plucked at your other nipple, sending shocks down your spine and straight to your already throbbing clit.

"Let's see what that pretty mouth is good for, hmm?"

Embarrassingly, you immediately dropped your head, pushing your body flat so you were sort of lying between his spread legs, bringing your lips down to hover a few inches above his leaking cock head. Tongue darting out to lap up a little taste of the shiny slickness there, you hummed; he tasted different than you were expecting, sort of the same, but with an almost metallic edge. You ran your tongue in a full circle around his tip, clenching around nothing when he groaned throatily, his right hand sliding through the dirt beside him.

"Fuck." he spat out when you unhinged your jaw, allowing the first few inches of him to fill your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard as your left hand continued to work the base of him. More and more precum leaked from the slit as you tongued at it, the taste and the knowledge that you were arousing to him making you rub your thighs together shamelessly.

"Play with your pussy." he commanded, clearly struggling to keep his tone even. Beneath you, you could feel his hips rocking almost imperceptibly. He didn't need to tell you twice; you could already tell you'd soaked through your underwear as you wrestled your hand down into your pants, pushing the wet gusset aside to rub tight circles around your swollen bud, moaning around his cock at the feeling.

The sound seemed to really turn him on, one of his hands suddenly moving to fist into your hair, the slight pain at the roots making you throb. His other hand came to cup your jaw again, holding you in place as he fully fucked his hips up into your waiting mouth, cussing under his breath as you continued to push yourself closer to orgasm. He kept you like that for a few long minutes, your neck cramping slightly by the time his thumb reached down, wiping away some drool that was dribbling down your chin. Bleary eyed, you looked up at him pleadingly. His answer was a wicked chuckle, his grin less of a smile and more a predator bearing his teeth.

"Blowin' a ghoul turn you on that much, cutie? What would the other vaulties think?" he tutted, shaking his head. "I think it's time you get on my cock."

Blushing hard at his little taunt, you could feel his burning gaze as you pulled yourself back up into a sitting position, tugging your boots off and setting them aside before shimmying the suit the rest of the way off, along with your underwear. A shiver broke down your spine as a small breeze hit you, your fire pretty much nothing but glowing embers now. However, when you pulled yourself back onto his lap, sighing as you ground your wet slit against his erection, you found that he was pleasantly warm feeling, bringing your hands up to his chest so you could lean over just enough to reach between you and position his cock at your entrance.

Too afraid of injuring yourself to attempt to take him all in one move, you instead opted to sink down onto the head, wriggling your hips before pulling them back up, then sinking down again, gently bouncing yourself down onto him. The man beneath you was tense, his hands kneading at your breasts as he huffed and hissed his way inside you. By the time you'd worked yourself most of the way down onto him, his hands moved to your hips, gripping them deliciously tight as you bobbed up and down on his length. For as cocky as he'd been before, he was pretty clearly struggling to keep his cool now.

One of your hands moved up from his chest, leaving you unsteadily balancing on one hand as the other pinched your nipple the same way he had before, making you cry out like a wounded animal. He must've liked that, as well, as his hands immediately yanked you the rest of the way down onto him, your ass resting flush against his hips. You repeated the sound again, higher, more strangled as he sat so deep inside you, the fat tip of him strumming away at something amazing right behind your belly button. It was too dark to make out much of anything, but you could feel the way his body twitched and bucked beneath you, strung tight as a bow.

The Ghoul's hands were digging deep into the fat of your hips, so hard you knew you'd bruise, restricting your movement, forcing you to swivel and grind your hips against him, the angle putting delicious friction on your poor aching clit and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to clench around him rhythmically, and his hand quickly appeared on your clit in the dark, rubbing surprisingly deft stripes up and down the puffy flesh until you were suddenly gasping for air, trembling hard against his chest as he fucked up into your heat roughly, sloppily, the hand that wasn't on your clit slapping you hard on the ass. Suddenly, he let out a long, low groan, and you could feel the hot throbbing of him pumping his cum inside you, his hips stuttering as you let yourself slump halfway against him. There was a sudden metallic taste in your mouth. For several long moments, there were no sounds but your co-mingled harsh breaths and sound of the wind swirling the sand across the foothills.

After you'd finally caught your breath, you made a move to extract yourself from him. He promptly stopped you, flipping you onto your back, the smell of the duster's rich leather curling in around you as he kept grinding his hips into your overstimulated cunt. It drew an embarrassing squeal from you, hands flying to his chest once more before being rather playfully batted away.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Nice as that was, your buddy owed me quite a bit of money. I think you'll be paying me back in installments." he growled in your ear, one hand moving around to give your ass a firm squeeze as you gave another clench around him. Your mind, foggy with sex, wandered to the Radaway still stashed in your bag.

It was going to be a long night.

[drakorn]

Rewriting Veilguard Part 5 - The Antivan Crows

Rewriting Veilguard Part 4 - The Veil Jumpers

Disclaimer: I don't hate the game, I actually think it's quite great given the development hell Bioware went through in those 10 years. This is more of a hypothetical universe where there was less of that behind the scenes drama. Just a fun writing exercise.

Writing an Origin Story Mission for the Antivan Crows

The Antivan Crows might be the one faction next to the Grey Wardens of whom we know the most about. They’re hired assassins, cold and brutal and calculating. They recruit children and mercilessly raise them to be killers. The Crow training involves killing your own peers to emerge as the victor. They keep a prison off the coast of Antiva City, where they hold people for “fun and torture”. The life of a Crow is rewarding, true, but it is also filled with darkness and a lot of blood. With all this canonical info established, we can confidently say that the Antivan Crows, while undoubtedly resourceful and clever, are not very nice people.

So why are the Antivan Crows in Veilguard so nice?

When I pictured the Antivan Crows before DAV released, “idealistic freedom fighters” wasn’t exactly what I thought of. Yet this is their entire role in the game, slightly controversial freedom fighters who fight against impossible odds.

Well, as you’ve seen with my takes on the Shadow Dragons, the Grey Wardens, and the Veil Jumpers in earlier posts, such a depiction can make sense if you just take your time to explain it in the lore. Why would the Crows suddenly be so much more of a force for good than they were in the other games? This, along with many other questions, shall be answered in just a tiny moment.

This is my take on a potential Antivan Crow origin story. Have fun!

Creating Rook

So, for the fourth time (wow we’re really stuck in that starting phase, are we), we press the start button and listen to Varric’s narration introducing the general state of Northern Thedas. This time, we pick the Antivan Crows as our faction and get this as our little intro blurb:

“You are an Antivan Crow. Swift knives in the dark, the Crows are ruthless assassins, both respected and feared. Some see them as nothing but cold-blooded killers, others as Antiva’s shadowy protectors who hold the nation’s true power. As a member of house de Riva, now a full-fledged Crow, you are summoned to take part in a secretive Crow operation in the occupied Treviso. Your first true contract is waiting for you. But are you worthy of fulfilling it? Are your skills, and your blades, sharp enough?”

Straight off the bat, of all the factions in this game, the Antivan Crows have the absolute easiest way to explain the last name applying to all races. House de Riva is simply the last name all crows belonging to that house choose. It’s just the way it is, no matter what race you are or where you came from. The question is: how exactly did Rook join the Crows?

Well, here’s where we’ll tap into the organisation’s more controversial and darker side. Here we go:

If de Riva is a human, they will have been bought from a poor family as a child, their parents giving them away just so they could have some coin again.

If de Riva is an elf, they will have been bought from Treviso’s Alienage for much the same reasons. In fact, the Crows have a habit of recruiting elves into their ranks because they tend to make the best assassins.

If de Riva is a dwarf, they were picked up as a child beggar in the streets, as their surface dwarf family likely died in some way.

If de Riva is a Qunari, they were taken in as the sole survivor of a group of Tal-Vashoth who sought to escape further inland from the Qun.

The Crows don’t really care about race or status when it comes to recruitment. But no matter who they recruit, the training starts in their childhood and lasts all the way until Crow membership. It’s tough and brutal. And we need to reflect that, guys, Thedas is not a friendly place. Especially in the North. Especially at this time.

In all four cases, Viago, who is now the Fifth Talon and leader of House de Riva, took us in personally and often trained us himself, sometimes along with Andaratei “Teia, please” Cantori. They are, for the lack of a better word, the closest thing to parental substitutes we’re going to get. And we’re going to make this amusing because Viago relentlessly and mercilessly throwing shade at us while secretly carrying some level of fondness is a very very engaging dynamic.

For the sake of this playthrough, let’s go with something a little more unusual and pick a Qunari rogue.

Once we’ve finalised our de Riva, we press the start button and Varric continues his narration. And we get to learn a little bit more about the actual state of the Crows by the time we begin the game: First Talon Caterina Dellamorte called upon a special gathering of Crows in the city of Treviso, the organisation’s ancestral home, which is now being occupied by the Antaam, but not the official branch. This is one of those units that broke off from the Arishok, who is still waging war against Tevinter. This particular unit is led by a warlord called The Butcher. To ensure the liberation of Treviso, Caterina called upon as many members of the Antivan Crows as possible. House Dellamorte, House de Riva, House Cantori, and House Valisti, are now leading an underground fighting force against the Antaam, willing to use their skills to free Antiva.

So you see, we’re still including the freedom fighter angle because it certainly does make sense for the Crows to go against the Antaam. But we provided just a little bit of an additional explanation. Caterina wants the more idealistic and spirited members of the Crows to join the effort because this is something personal. And she needs those who care about a little more than coin and death to accomplish this. The remaining Crows are still out there, doing contracts, being cold and callous. But now, we give an in-universe reason for things to be the way they are presented to us.

Well then, now that we have created our de Riva, let us jump into the game!

The Treviso Chantry

Instead of using the Cantori Diamond, our Crow base is going to be something a little different. Let’s actually implement the lore and explore some history. The original Antivan Crows started out as monks in the area surrounding Treviso. In the years since, Treviso has been nearly destroyed on two occasions and a lot of rebuilding had to be done. So, instead of setting the main crow base in the HQ of one of their houses, we’re gonna set it in Treviso’s Chantry.

The idea is that Treviso’s Chantry is the ancestral base from which the Crows fully operated. But Treviso has been rebuilt so many times that people just forgot that. Well, not really forgotten, the place just looks utterly unrecognisable to its earliest incarnation.

Well, Treviso’s Chantry is grand and beautiful now, think of places like Notre Dame. And just like Notre Dame, it has its secrets. In the years since the last rebuilding, the Crows took the Chantry and secretly kept expanding on it, using House Valisti as the main financial donor. The upper areas were entirely turned into a maze-like collection of rooms that can house a multitude of Crows at once. And the walls were given tons of secret passages and hidden doors. This is the main Crow base, and only fully initiated Crows know how to access it. It is also, most importantly, the one base where Crows are bound by their code not to harm each other. We know how much literal backstabbing these guys get up to, so we absolutely need to establish some kind of neutral ground. Still, ever since the incident in Tevinter Nights, where most Talons met a most gruesome end, there is tension in the air.

We arrive to the Treviso Chantry by rooftop, accompanied by our Talon, Viago de Riva, as well as all the de Riva Crows that were able to join this effort. Like shadows, we traverse the rooftops and ascend the Chantry’s walls like a group of Ezio Auditores. We find some secret passage in the walls and enter the Crows’ main base.

Right off the bat, Viago pulls us aside and tells us to be on our absolute best behaviour. Four of the Crows’ leading houses are gathered here, and we will not tarnish de Riva’s reputation by being ourselves. Classic Viago.

The Nest

The wide attic areas of the Chantry are referred to as “The Nest”, for this is still where the first Crows “hatched”. And now, it’s used as a massive gathering place, including its own opera house-style auditorium. This Chantry is just the definition of extra but that’s what the Crows are about.

As we walk towards our gathering, we can have a few encounters:

We can encounter Viago and Teia Cantori exchanging in something that is obviously flirting to the knowing eye and ear but can very well be masqueraded as diplomatic conversation. Viago also produces his snake…EMIL, EMIL the snake, not…no! His pet snake, which he got in Tevinter Nights. If you join the conversation, Teia acts absolutely delighted to see you and greets you like the cool and loving mom she is, whereas Viago stares daggers into your soul for daring to interrupt this moment.

We meet Antonio Valisti, the current head of House Valisti. He is both a Merchant Prince and Talon, a very powerful combination. He eyes us up and down and seems even more critical of our very air than Viago, and we thought that wasn’t at all possible.

We find some notes and letters regarding Crows being sent out to hunt down Zevran, who is still on the run. He has stopped waging his one-man-army war against the Crows and is currently lying low.

We can overhear a conversation between Jacobus, his cousin Dareth, and Heir, talking about Jacobus’ training and what it truly means to be an Antivan Crow.

NOTE: In this World State, Zevran is still alive.

We meet Illario Dellamorte and can engage him in polite but tense conversation. He seems to still not having gotten over the death of his cousin, Lucanis, the Demon of Vyrantium. He can only hope to keep his memory alive by being the deadliest assassin he could possibly be. We can be friendly to him here, and he seems to appreciate the sentiment.

The Great Contract

We settle down in the Nest’s auditorium and Caterina Dellamorte, First Talon, steps on stage, and we immediately feel the sheer deadly power and authority oozing from her, despite, or maybe because of, her age. She delivers a short and deadly speech on how this broken part of the Antaam invaded Treviso, led by a man called Daathrata, or “The Butcher”, as the locals refer to him.

Caterina announces that all Crows gathered here have a contract now. All four houses have been bought to assassinate the Butcher and as many of his Antaam soldiers as possible. And who is the client with so much coin for this contract? Well, we’ll meet them later.

Caterina orders the Crows to rest up and prepare, they will be carrying out their plan soon enough. A few select Crows will be chosen to accompany their Talons and meet the client in another location.

Later that evening, Viago approaches us, declaring that he’s chosen us to accompany him to the meeting with the client. He’s incredibly grumpy and stiff about it and tells us to better not make him regret it. At the same time, he concedes that out of all the Crows of House de Riva, we have shown some of the most promise.

Meeting the Client

Heading to meet the client is, as with all Crow-related stuff, shadowy business. So we’re not going to take the streets but jump across the rooftops once again. While we do that, we can see a few things happening below:

We see members of the Antaam dragging a mage out of a house to expose them to the qamek treatment. The Butcher hates mages. Nothing we can do for this one, we must remain in the shadows for now. Even if we want to help them, Viago holds us back. There are too many eyes.

We see the citizens of Treviso being lined up for overall inspection by the Antaam, to see how obedient they are under the new regime.

Eventually, we arrive at our meeting spot: Café Pietra. There, we meet Rayan Ivenci, the Governor of Treviso. Now, for Ivenci, I have something slightly different and more elaborate planned than what we see of them in the game.

Turns out, Ivenci is the one who made the contract and paid the Crows to assassinate the Butcher. Antivan nobles do have a well-established history of hiring the Crows to take out political targets, so this is no exception. Since Ivenci is such a wealthy person, they had enough coin to hire all four houses currently active in Treviso.

If we’re feeling bold, we can even mention how superficial this contract is given that we’re planning to kill the Butcher anyway. Viago gives us another death glare and reminds us of the Crows’ ways of operating. A contract belongs in our very DNA.

Ivenci explains their plan to us: They’re planning on negotiating peace talks with Daathrata onboard his Dreadnought, which is docking just outside the Drowned District. And while they’re having these talks, the Crows can swoop in and perform their assassination. They mention that Daathrata’s main reason for breaking away from the Arishok’s Antaam is that, despite his cruelty, the Butcher doesn’t want to fight in a senseless war against Tevinter. Peace talks are, therefore, not outside the realm of possibility with him.

Our plan put in motion, Ivenci departs and the Crows prepare to gather all forces for a massive descent upon the Qunari.

An Old Friend

When Antonio, Caterina, and the Crows they brought along, leave, Viago and Teia remain. When we ask Viago why we’re not leaving, he says that we still have another meeting to attend. Another contract for after this one is over, so to say.

At this moment, Varric Tethras joins us at the table, with a mug of mulled wine, as he needs that alcohol and coffee is just not his thing. Viago and Teia obviously know him from The Missing so that connection is established. Varric greets us and we probably know him very well, as pretty much everyone knows Varric thanks to his books. And being the Viscount of Kirkwall and serving the Inquisition years ago obviously added to his reputation.

Viago and Teia start talking to him about the contract they have been discussing for a while now. We, as players, obviously can already guess what it is, but the language is kept very vague right now. At this point, de Riva may begin to wonder why exactly we were allowed to stay with two Talons discussing a contract with a new client.

Turns out, Viago has proposed we join Varric and carry out the contract. Even though he has his absolute grievances with us and thinks we’re an annoying baby, he can’t deny our skills.

Varric looks us over and we can have our first little conversation with him, in which we express our interest and curiosity in this strange new contract. This first talk is going to determine partially how Varric perceives us. We can be strictly business-like, as a classic Crow like Viago would behave, or perhaps be a little more idealistic towards the Antaam situation, like Teia. In any case, the meeting ends with Varric stating he’ll wait for us after the Butcher contract is done. Viago barks at us to leave and so we do.

Preparations

Back at the Nest, we have a final strategic meeting with the four houses and determine exactly what everyone will be doing. Here’s the plan: House Valisti, since they have the most and longest experience with Daathrata by having fought him the longest, will go straight for the Butcher’s Dreadnought. House Dellamorte will handle the Antaam in the streets of Treviso. Houses Cantori and de Riva will take care of the Drowned District. Now, we have a first choice presented before us, as there are two different sections of the Drowned District we can focus on:

The Prison Camps: We focus on Antaam’s prison camps and liberate those the Qunari have captured. It’s not entirely out of the goodness of our hearts; the Crows need a win in the public’s perception of them to show that they are both a group to be feared and relied upon.

The Military Camps: We focus on the Antaam’s direct military camps and fracture their overall defences and might. This will weaken them in the long-run.

Whatever we choose is what Houses de Riva and Cantori will prioritise first. If there is still time, we shall focus on the second. While Teia is very much for liberating the prisoners, Viago wants to weaken the Antaam’s overall strength. And this is where our de Riva comes in.

NOTE: As you may have noticed, I am referring to Rook as “de Riva” throughout this write-up, for the same reasons I stated in the other background write-ups.

Well, we have already established our de Riva to be a little more on the idealistic side, so we choose the Prison Camps as our battleground. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, though: we do not actually decide this in-universe. We are a regular Crow. Teia and Viago are Talons. Sure, they could ask us for our opinion, but we don’t get the end say. We just chime in with our own opinion and sway them to this decision. In this case, we support Teia’s idea and she convinces Viago to go along with it. Viago gives us a “this is so your fault” look, but lets it go.

The Crows Descend

What follows is a cinematic of Caterina sending us all to take up positions for what is to be a great shadow battle. The idea is to not engage in open warfare but more so in a Crow way, silent and deadly.

We get a scene at the Butcher’s Dreadnought. Governor Ivenci and some of their guards await to be let on. And this Dreadnought is massive, an absolute unit of a ship, easily overshadowing everything else in the docks. The gangplank is lowered and Daathrata, the Butcher, steps out. He’s an imposing, intimidating Qunari warrior who looks like he can snap anyone in two, including other Qunari. But when he opens his mouth, he is surprisingly well-mannered and soft-spoken, which kinda makes him look even more intimidating. He guides Ivenci and their guards on board. We see Antonio and the Valisti Crows hover on the rooftops surrounding the docks, ready to strike.

At the same time, in the streets of Treviso, we see Caterina and Illario getting the Dellamorte Crows ready to ambush groups of Antaam soldiers and clear the populated areas. Caterina pulls Ilario aside and tells him this is his moment to prove himself and lets him lead the house into battle. This visibly takes aback Ilario.

Lastly, Houses de Riva and Cantori gather on the rooftops surrounding the Prison Camps in the Drowned District. There are many guards around, and even more prisoners.

Now, we get to make another choice: How exactly do we approach this? Teia suggests killing the guards quickly and quietly and then let the prisoners out. Viago, on the other hand, wants to poison the guards and let them die from their food and drink. There are some nice campfires with pots of stew around. So, do we:

Attack the guards directly and kill them as swiftly, quietly, and efficiently as possible?

Or do we poison their supplies and let them choke on their own dinner?

Well, we are still a de Riva and at this point we’ve pissed off Viago enough times. Let’s try and placate him again. We’re in the poison camp. Viago comments that finally, a shred of reason still exists in our head. Since we’re a Qunari ourselves, we now get a bit of a unique flavour to this mission: We know that this particular unit broke off from the Arishok’s Antaam, however, unlike in DAV, they did not break off from the Qun, still holding their own belief to it. As such, they still have Qunari cooks and craftsmen among them. As such, we can play a bit of dress-up: we’ll play the role of a Qunari cook and poison the food ourselves. This is where playing a Qunari really comes at an advantage for us because they won’t suspect us nearly as much as anyone else.

Viago gives us some Adder’s Kiss poison, provided by Emil, and asks us to bring back some qamek for him to study if we find any. He asks this in a bit of a nerdy way, like this is the one poison that still eludes his collection. The other Crows will hold back for the time being while we…go in alone. Mierda.

The Prison Camps

Cut to a little later. Instead of the tight, badass, and sexy Antivan Crow leather attire, we now find ourselves in a plain dress and shirt (I’m going for a feminine Qunari de Riva here). We sneak into a tent filled with cooking supplies, and either knock out, kill, or convince the actual cook to go away. Either way, we are now the cook.

We look around in the tent and find ourselves absolutely aghast at the sheer lack of flavour and variety that is Qunari food. Antivans are supposed to be a mix of Spain and Italy, but the food aspect is definitely Italian-coded. So we look around horrified and mumble something along the lines of “Mierda, no wonder they are the way they are.”

We then set about brewing some fresh stew, which we are utterly disgusted by. As an Antivan, we are used to excellent food full of rich flavour and spices. We really have to reign ourselves in to not make the stew too tasty. This is absolute torture for our poor food-loving heart. This food deserves the poison.

Now that our food has become entirely disgraceful to our standards, it’s time to deliver it to the Antaam.

There are three prison camps aligned next to each other in total, meticulously placed upon the still-standing and dry parts of the Drowned District. We have to sneak the poison into three large pots, one for each camp. As we traverse the camp, we get the following encounters:

We see some prisoners, citizens of Treviso who somehow scorned the Qunari, being tested for potential new rules in the Qun. If we pass them, the Qunari will pull us aside and order us to show some people how to cook. We can play along and actually show them some excellent cooking skills.

But we also see those who actively volunteered into the Qun. They are currently being given weapons or infrastructural jobs. They are clearly under pressure but treated exponentially better than the prisoners. Why are we showing this? Well, if you recall DA2, some people actually did join the Arishok of their own free will. We must show that not everyone actually despises the Qun, or would rather join it than be killed. In any case, it’s important to see.

Whenever we pass one of the main cages with Treviso’s citizens inside, we can try to damage the locks to allow them to escape. This, however, adds the potential consequence of some prisoners trying to make a run for it and being swiftly executed. We choose not to damage them for now.

We see a cage full of mages who were exposed to qamek. They are utterly mindless, almost tranquil, but even…worse than that. In the huge tent next to them, we find a Qunari keeping watch over the poison. We quickly kill him and hide the body, and take a few vials with us for Viago.

When we reach the main pots, something happens each time that will allow us to make some more choices:

Pot 1: Another cook is already filling it. We can either tell them to fuck off or convince them that our food is better prepared since the other tents were befallen by rodents from the canal. Yes, we saw that. We do not lie. The Qun has no lies.

Pot 2: Pot 2 is broken because someone knocked it over and is now being punished for it. We can quickly scurry around and find a new pot to fulfil our duty here.

Pot 3: Pot 3 has a more merciful Qunari captain who let some prisoners have their fill first. You see some people eagerly looking up to you, waiting for food. Dammiiiiittttt. I don’t want to kill the citizens! So do we maintain our cover or find a way around this? Since we’re playing an idealist Crow, we choose to bullshit our way out of this. We make it look like as though one of the Antaam soldiers pushed us and we dramatically let our remaining food spill on the floor. Apologies, huge apologies, we shall get a new fill. The guard is being punished.

Once all is done, we get a very Ghost of Tsushima-style scene where de Riva stands amidst the Antaam and watches the soldiers slowly succumbing to Viago’s poison, except for the third camp. And some others obviously see the poison take effect before eating anything. We quickly dash to where we left our gear. A few minutes later, the Crows descend upon the camps. We re-emerge, once again dressed in our Crow outfit. Viago and Teia join us, and Viago begrudgingly admits that yeah, we’ve actually done a satisfactory job, whereas Teia nudges him teasingly, saying that he can be proud every once in a while.

We then battle against the Antaam, with Viago, and Teia fighting by our side. We mow down those who survived the poison. And because we didn’t break the prisoners’ locks, none of them prematurely escape into an early grave.

Ambush

As soon as we start letting out the prisoners, however, something changes. Something drastic. We see a strange light out on the water and look to the Butcher’s Dreadnought, only to see it go…

BOOM

The Dreadnought fully explodes into smithereens and the debris even reaches us here. All of House Valisti was on board that ship, as well as Daathrata and Ivenci. Before we can react, however, we are suddenly ambushed by a whole new wave of Antaam soldiers. Somehow, the military camp made it here in seconds. And they begin cutting down the escaping prisoners. Mierda, maybe letting them run earlier would have been a better idea. Some would have died, yes, but not as many as right now.

We engage in another, much fiercer battle against the Antaam, but the Crows are driven back. We are not used to open warfare. Now the Qunari have the advantage. We retreat onto the walls.

From there, we see how the streets of Treviso are crawling with Antaam as well and two great Dreadnoughts sail down the river. Where did those come from? Did the Butcher suddenly gain forces? How? Why? How did he know? How…how did he know that we would be planning this? This is too calculated to be a coincidence. Viago and Teia come to the same conclusion: someone betrayed us, betrayed Treviso, betrayed us all to the Butcher. Speaking of…if the Butcher knew this, then the exploding Dreadnought was no accident either. That means he has to still be alive. Maybe we can even save Antonio.

But we also see the Dellamorte Crows struggling in the streets. Teia and Viago begin to argue on what to do next, and we can make a choice here, another big one:

Do we follow Teia and aid the Dellamortes in the streets of Treviso?

Or do we stay with Viago and pursue the Butcher and try to save Antonio and Ivenci?

Well, Viago taught us that a contract needs to be finished, no matter what. We speak out in favour of pursuing Daathrata. Viago agrees with us and Teia rallies House Cantori to help the Dellamortes in the streets. We pursue.

The Butcher

As we race along the docks and fight our way through Antaam soldiers, we are joined by Varric who asks if now’s a good time to make it an outside operation. Viago doesn’t even hesitate to let him join, and so we fight. There are so many Qunari, it’s actually insane. The Crows are way out of their depth here.

While the rest of House de Riva is fighting, we, Viago, and Varric reach the remains of the Butcher’s Dreadnought. We see the corpses of all the House Valisti Crows floating in the water or burning on the wreck. We also find Antonio, who is barely alive and severely wounded. We pull him out of the wreckage and begin patching him up.

We then explore the still-stable parts of the Dreadnought for any signs of the Butcher. Just as we’re about to give up, we see a smaller Qunari ship sailing along the docks. We see the Butcher and Ivenci on it. Well, gotta save the Governor.

Without waiting for Viago and Varric, we hurry over the burning debris, acrobatically swing ourselves back onto the docks, shoot along the piers, jump over gaps and missing parts, see another ship, a fishing vessel, sticking out far enough that we could maybe risk it, quickly make our way there, jump on the boat, climb the mast, the Qunari vessel is almost past us, unsheathe our daggers, SWING OURSELVES FROM THE MAST, DESCEND UPON THE BUTCHER, EZIO AUDITORE!!!

Whoom

We are suddenly stopped, mid-air, as Ivenci stops us with magic, blood magic even; freezing our blood so that our fall is halted. The Butcher calmly turns around and gazes us straight in the eyes. Then, he slowly unsheathes a dagger coated in qamek, and slowly, almost sadistically so, stabs us in the chest.

Ivenci lets their spell go and we drop on deck, our vision blurring, our thoughts dissolving as the qamek spreads through our body. Ivenci is the traitor. But…he made the contract…why would he…

Ivenci looks at us with pure hatred, something unexpected. He looks even more into this situation than Daathrata. Slowly, we fight back and rise to our feet. The Butcher sighs and engages us in battle.

What follows is a very blurry, very short boss battle that basically ends with the Butcher stabbing us again and sending us into the waters of Rialto Bay.

Awakening

We wake up back at the Nest with Viago nursing us back to health. Fortunately, the qamek on that dagger was but a small dosis, so we are certain to recover soon. It’s always good to start acquiring immunity. Viago knows what he’s talking about. As we look at him, we see, for the first time that he’s genuinely worried about us. And no condescension hides that.

He explains that Varric found us floating in the water and dragged us out. If it weren’t for him, we’d be dead. He awaits us at the café when we’re ready. Ready for what? Well, for the other contract. Are you fucking kidding, Viago? Viago dismisses our incredulity by reminding us that contracts are what we’re all about. He asks us what happened with the Butcher. We come back to our senses and tell him that we need to tell something to the other Talons. Viago understands and allows us to get ready.

Slightly slow and wounded, bandaged, we make our way to the auditorium. Teia meets us on the way, glad to see us alive. We see that Viago and Teia are the only unscathed Talons. Caterina is heavily bandaged, as is Antonio. Illario is taking over House Dellamorte while Caterina recovers. Antonio is the only Valisti left. But at least, thanks to us, there is still a Valisti left.

We tell them that Ivenci betrayed us. That they’re a blood mage. That they and Daathrata work together. The Crows are furious, especially Antonio, who wants vengeance for his house. But they also commend de Riva for, albeit while not having finished the contract, at least getting this valuable intelligence.

After the meeting, Viago and Teia take us aside and prompt us to return to the café now. Ivenci and Daathrata think we’re dead and that the other Crows did not receive information on the betrayal. Let us keep it this way for now. Us disappearing out of Treviso on another contract with Varric is a perfect opportunity. We ask what this contract is about but they still won’t say, stating that it’s best for Varric to explain it himself.

Meeting Varric

We meet Varric back at the Café Pietra. He’s glad to see we’re alright and if we’re ready to depart. On our way here we saw that Treviso is currently in a bit of a turmoil. It’ll take a while before all of this is settled. And now, we have two main targets to kill here: Daathrata and Ivenci.

Yeah, the fact that Ivenci’s a traitor is a huge twist in DAV, but I think there is an interesting story to be told if we know they’re the traitor from the get-go. Now, we can wonder why they did it.

We ask Varric what this other contract is about, and Varric says he’ll tell us when we’re way out of Treviso. We can get a little impatient and ask what kind of target this could possibly be that it requires such secrecy. Are we hunting a god or something? Viago and Teia exchange some glances, but we don’t notice.

Instead, Varric encourages us to drop the de Riva name for now, as the Crows…do have a reputation. Best if we just come across as a normal Tal-Vashoth. We need a new name.

We lean back and think. Then, we simply say “Rook.” Varric raises an eyebrow. We shrug. “Close enough to a Crow while still sounding different enough.” Viago visibly and audibly groans in the background. “That’s not what secret mean-“ Teia can’t help but laugh. Varric smirks. “And the strongest piece on the chessboard. I like it.”

Leaving Treviso

Before we leave Treviso, we can have some final talk with Viago and Teia. We do get a little bit more insight into how both of them kinda raised us while still keeping us as a part of House de Riva. They are basically our parental figures, which is super rare among the Crows unless you are blood-related. Even though Viago demeans us all the time, it’s clear he has grown to somehow care for us. While Teia gives us a lot of advice for how to handle ourselves on the road away from all the Crows, Viago simply says something along the lines of “Get this contract done.” At this point, we exasperatedly ask “Mierda, WHO is the target???” and Varric leads us out of the café.

What follows is a cinematic of Rook and Varric sneaking through the streets of Treviso, dodging Antaam patrols. Once we’re out, we take a look back at the huge old Chantry. Still confused on what this is all about, we turn away and follow Varric into the unknown.

And there we have it! A potential origin story for the Antivan Crows! It’s getting really fun doing these. I’m very much enjoying it, and I hope you are too. Next time, we shall head to the Necropolis and explore a potential origin story for the Mourn Watchers. Stay tuned!

Rewriting Veilguard Part 6 - The Mourn Watchers

[mettywiththenotes]

I know the general conclusion people are coming to is "wow so nothing has changed the civilians haven't changed their minds nothing has changed in society" but. how many chapters has it been since the end of the war. actually a better question would be how many days/weeks has it been since the end of the war. because idk man things aren't going to change as quickly as that

You have to factor in how no one outside of Izuku, Shouto and Ochako knew about them wanting to save the villains. When the footage of the final war is inevitably shared around, the first thought probably isn't "wow they saved those bad guys" but likely just the fact that they stopped them from doing more damage meaning they can put them in jail or whatever

Even when you put that aside, society is unlikely to change in a short space of time anyway because there was the general idea that the heroes winning meant bringing things back to how they were. And bringing things back to how they were means a society that favors the good quirks and good victims over the people who are ignored and those who slip through the cracks. If they get that back, then of course things aren't going to change immediately

And in the end, they did get it back. The villains have been stopped. The heroes prevailed. Society is rebuilding as fast as possible like nothing happened. But we've been shown that the idea "things are going back to normal" is usually accompanied by the implication it may seem like that but really things will change in an inevitable way

The saviour squad as a whole (Izuku, Shouto, Ochako, Hawks) all have the potential to speak up about their experiences, prove the world/country wrong about their surface-level view of villains. Shouto and Ochako could relay their thoughts, what their intentions were, what their conclusions are now. Izuku could choose to tell everyone what he saw in Tomura, the crying child. More than that, he could do some introspection, think over his time with Tomura (USJ, mall scene, war arc and so on) and talk about his thoughts too. Hawks being one of the first of the heroes who tried and failed to save his villain is an interesting parallel to Izuku, and also shows that he could have a personal account on this too

With all this in consideration, I believe that it's not going to be a random relaying of these experiences in bits and pieces over the remaining chapters, but rather a single united action together - like their own televised interview or something. It's not like Hawks wouldn't have the power to organize it, the HC literally has the authority to put what they want in the media. Though whether that happens or not remains to be seen

But the point I'm trying to make is that this is going to take time. The whole of society isn't just going to wake up and realize the error of their ways after all of that. There has to be a beginning, a starting line, to the conclusion that maybe villains deserve something better

I say that this is going to take time, while knowing that we have only 3 chapters of the story left... and while it frustrates a lot of people, it's looking to me like this is going to be an open ending. I imagine the very last chapter will show the starting line of change. Personally I'm okay with that, I think it would be compelling. Depending on how it is set out, I don't think it would be a bad ending

Idk how exactly to end this post but... it just seems like people think that all hope is lost because the civilians didn't all collectively wake up the day after the war and change their minds, and I don't think it works that way. It will take time. I believe Hori may give the story an open ending so we are shown the starting line and in the end it will be up to us how things change specifically

[wafflefries13]

A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing

Summary: A forced retreat to the woods leads to meeting a couple of new friends, one furry and one furious.

AN: Another fic I wrote a while back, another than got eaten by Tumblr. Still pretty proud of this one! Repost.

Warnings: Werewolf au, cannon typical violence, language

It was fine. This was fine. Staying in a small cabin in the middle of the woods, getting back to nature, away from the city, away from those yakuza who were tracking you down because your dad had skipped out on the massive amounts of gambiling debt he had, and seriously, Dad, you knew he had a problem, not that he would ever listen to you, but did he really have to go and play mahjong, freaking mahjong, with some super sketchy people and really think everything was just going to be fine that he was going to be okay when he already had a massive pile of debt from that pyramid scheme that you told him was a pyramid scheme or the loss from that horse race last month, and seriously, Dad, this is why mom left-!

But it was fine. You were fine. 

The cabin was small, a one room structure that gave you flashbacks to ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ Thankfully, the owners had attached the outhouse to the actual house a few years back, installing a slim standing shower. Electricity came from either solar power or a gas generator hook-up out back, but there was no way you would ever get an internet connection all the way out here.  But it had a fireplace! That was pretty cool, right? 

You weren’t exactly sure how long you’d be out here. The detective from vice told you to stay off the grid as much as possible, that they’d get in touch with you, not the other way around. The police officer had dropped you off about an hour ago after bumping over an unpaved road tangled by tree roots and overgrown underbrush. You would never have been able to find this place by yourself. But you supposed that that was the whole point. 

You’d spent your first few hours there getting the cabin to an actual livable condition. Vice had told you that this place wasn’t used a lot, and you could immediately see it. Every surface was coated in a thick layer of dust. The windows were covered in who knows how many years of grime. Cobwebs littered with tiny insect carcases huddled in every corner and crevice. You were lucky you hadn’t found a racoon nest in the chimney flue. 

Finally, as the sun set, your muscles aching from the work, you decided that your temporary home was livable enough. You summoned all your knowledge from watching ‘Man vs Wild’ and lit a fire. You heated up a can of chicken noodle soup on the gas stove. The cabin didn’t have a bed, so you stacked several thick quilts stored in a cupboard, rolling out your sleeping bag on top. 

You sat on your makeshift bed, back pressed against the wall, slurping your soup. Outside the window, you watched as the light slowly faded away. Wow, you didn’t realize how dark it could really get out here. You put way too much stock in the light you could get from the moon and stars, apparently. There was no accounting for the noise, though. It sounded like a million different insects were screaming from the woods outside. You thought cricket noises were supposed to be comforting, like listening to the ocean to try and fall asleep. But this just made you itch and wish for another can of bug spray.  Man, vice really sent you out here with nothing, didn’t they? 

Sitting back and contemplating your possible execution via yakuza boss in the near future, it took you a while before you recognized the change. Every noise outside your four walls had fallen silent. The popping of logs in the fireplace was tantamount to gun fire. 

Slowly, you set down your half-finished can of soup, dragging a wooden bat out that you had snagged before the vice police shoved you in the car to bring you here. Staying as low to the floor as possible, you crawled to the front window. You pressed your back against the wall, like you had seen spies do in movies, and slowly lifted one corner of the thick curtains. You tried to crane your head to look out, but it hurt more than you thought it would and your visibility was cut by way more than half. 

Why hadn’t vice at least given you a gun or something? 

Taking a deep breath, you stood, holding the bat in front of you like a sword. Before you could convince yourself that this was a bad idea (too late) you burst open the front door, ready to swing at whatever you saw first. 

Noise exploded back into existence as soon as you stepped into the small clearing around the cabin. Panting heavily and breaking out in a cold sweat from the adrenaline, you whipped your head back and forth to look for intruders. Left? Clear. Right? Clear. Front? Clear. Behind-?! Wait, that was the cabin, you were just there. 

You felt all the energy leave you at once. The bat suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. You slumped forward, bracing your head on the backs of your hands settled on the pommel of the bat. 

You heard something from the other side of the cabin. A low groan, the result of footsteps. Gulping hard, you raised the bat again, silently making your way to the corner of the house. You whipped around the corner. 

A giant furry shape was slumped in a pile in front of you. It let out a low whine. You could see the powerful muscles under its thick fur coat ripple and stretch as the thing tried to get comfortable. Sensing your presents, it reared its large head, pinning you down with ruby red eyes. 

A wolf. There was a wolf in front of you. You had always assumed wolves would sort of look like giant dogs, but this close you could see how different they really were. This thing was huge, first of all. Its head would come up to your shoulder when it stood. It also had long thin legs, built for fast running and careening over obstacles. The wolf snared at you, its lips pulling back as a deep growl emanate from its throat. You could almost swear it was glaring at you. 

Its threat was cut short, however, by a pained yip. As it tried to stand, it faltered and fell over, back into a furry heap. You could see a patch of mismatched fur coating its back leg up along its haunch. The fur was matted, dark with something wet. 

You dropped the bat, holding your hands in front of you in what you hoped was a non-threatening pose. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” You said softly. “I’m just gonna… I’ll be right back.” You ducked back around the corner, heading into the cabin. You threw open the cabinet doors, rummaging for a first aid kit you could have sworn you saw somewhere while cleaning. You found the small white box, hoping that whatever was inside was as suitable for giant wolves as it was for people. 

You headed back out. Going around the cabin, you saw the wolf trying to stand and limp away again. He didn’t make it two steps before collapsing. Instead of a pained noise, this time he just left out a frustrated humph. You giggled despite yourself. The wolf’s head reared back around, locking eyes with you again. It growled at you. 

“I don’t think you look as menacing as you think you do right now,” You said. You tried to talk calmly in a low voice. That’s what you were supposed to do with frightened and injured animals, right? Well, you also were supposed to leave them alone and call animal control or something, but you didn’t really have the option of doing that right now. And you didn’t think you could sleep, much less live with yourself, if you knowingly just let this wolf suffer right outside your door. 

You took another step closer. The wolf snapped his jaws at you but didn’t move from his heap. “Hey, easy, big guy. I just want to help.” You held up the first aid kit, as if that was supposed to mean anything to a wild animal. The wolf glared at you, but didn’t make any movement as you took another cautious step forward. As you knelt down beside his injured back leg, he huffed again, turning his head away and resting it on his massive paws, resigned to accept you unasked for help. This close up, you could see his fur was an unusual blond. It reminded you of wheat fields just before harvest (not that you had ever seen that, being such a city kid, but pictures and imagination counted for something, right?). 

You opened the kit and pulled on a pair of gloves. Parting his fur, you hissed in sympathy at his wound. There was a gash slicing through his entire haunch, more wide than it was deep, but still bleeding profusely. You could see smaller cuts and bite marks, punchers in his flesh, littering the rest of his leg and up his back. Some of these wounds had already half-healed, but had reopened again, oozing and clotted. 

You threaded a hand comfortingly through his fur, speaking softly as you dabbed an antiseptic wipe along the largest gash. The wolf winced and barked at you in annoyance at the sting, but after a glare (you didn’t even know wolves could glare with such intensity before this), he resigned himself and plopped his head back down. There were some butterfly sutures that you hoped would stick on with his fur. You pushed them down, pulling the edges so the flesh closed. You tried your best to clean the other injuries, but you didn’t have a lot of butterfly sutures, and bandaids certainly weren’t going to stay down. 

As you were contemplating this, a chorus of howls erupted from the woods around you. The blond wolf sprung into action immediately, jumping up and circling himself around you. You probably would have thought that was amazing or cute or something if a sense of panic hadn’t seized you. The wolf was still limping, trying to keep his back leg off the ground. His head jerked from side to side, ears constantly twitching. Whatever was out there, you could only imagine that it was closing in, and it was out for blood. 

“Oh, this is going to be a bad idea,” You said to yourself. The wolf cocked his head at you. “But, hey, I’m not making any good choices tonight, I guess. Come on.” You picked up your abandoned bat, standing to guard the wolf from the tree line. You started backing up, genteling nudging the wolf with your hip in the direction of the cabin door. He seemed to get your meaning, limping along, but trying to maintain his sense of canine bravado by making threatening growls and fangs bared. 

Backing your way into the cabin, you quickly locked and barred the door. You had no idea if conventional locks would keep out blood-thirsty wolves, but you figured it wouldn’t do much against determined yakuza members either, so maybe you should just cut your losses. 

You heard a loud slurping and turned around. The blond wolf had his muzzle buried in your reheated soup, lapping it up and spilling everything that didn’t immediately make it into his mouth. 

“Hey!” You chastised. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes at you. Could wolves do that? Like, physically? His long tongue licked his chops when he was done. He took a few stumbling steps then collapsed by the fire. 

“Alright,” You said to yourself. “I guess this is happening, huh?” You could have sworn the wolf made a sound of agreement. 

~~~

You woke up to the sound of bird song and a mouth full of fur. 

Sputtering, you pieced together the events of last night in your head. The wolf had you pinned against the wall of your makeshift bed, his back pressed against your stomach and chest. You had a fleeting thought that he was putting himself between you and any danger that might break in. You had heard stories of mother wolves protecting human babies, maybe this was something like that? Or were you thinking of The Jungle Book? The founding of Rome? Whatever. 

Either way, it made you smile a bit, petting his fur. Wow, you had no idea wolf fur was so thick! Your hand just seemed to drop forever through his soft coat. Your action was enough to rouse the wolf from his sleep just a bit. He cast a tired glance over his shoulder at you. You could have sworn you could read his expression. “Really? You’re waking me up for this?” 

“Hey there, sunshine,” You said. “I should probably take another look at that leg, huh?” 

The wolf huffed, rolling over. You thought for a second he was giving you room to get up, but when you started to move he rolled back over, landing heavily across you and pinning you down. “That’s, uh, that’s a no then, huh?” The wolf just shuffled to a more comfortable position (on top of you) and closed his eyes. 

You sighed, reaching up and rubbing the fur between his ears. “This is my life now, huh?” 

He blinked open his eyes, staring right into yours. They were a deep red, almost like uncut garnets. You had no idea animals could have eyes like that. Not just that, but something about them looked almost too… human to you. The proportion of iris to whites just sort of off from what you would expect from your average dog. Before you could put your finger on it, the wolf closed his eyes and rested his head again. 

His heat radiated through you like a miniature sun. You pet through his fur, deciding to narrate your thoughts out loud. You told him about how you came to be in these woods, in this cabin, your struggles with dealing with your father's gambeling addiction for so many years, the fall festival you had gone to last year, how you wanted to start hiking now that you were trapped out here, this song you couldn’t remember the words to, summarizing the plot from some book you had to read for English class. 

After the sun had already started to rise high in the sky, the wolf (you really needed a name for him, huh?) slinked off of you. You let out an exaggerated breath, thumbing your chest a few times. He flicked his tail at you. 

You opened up the cooler you brought with you. Take two slices for yourself, you handed the wolf the rest of the sliced turkey you had bought for sandwiches. He ate the entire pack in one massive bite, looking at you expectantly for more. Huffing in mock annoyance, you tossed him the other two slices. He caught them in the air, flicking his tongue to get the juice from his canine maw. 

He tested his weight on his back leg. You could tell it still hurt him, but he still tried to walk with his other three legs. He stretched out, arching his back. “Oooh, big stretch!” You said. There was that glare again. 

He limped over to the door, scratching it. You opened it for him, assuming he had to do his doggy business or something (wait, was he trained to go outside? That would explain some things). But when you tried to close the door again, he barked at you. He scratched the door frame until you followed him outside. He would walk several feet ahead then sit, looking over at you and barking. You went back inside and tugged on your hiking shoes, spraying yourself down with a healthy dose of bug spray. 

The wolf was still pretty unsteady on his feet. He would stumble occasionally, but when you would put out a hand to help him, he would snap back at you. Whatever the case, he at least seemed to know where he was going. Even in his injured state, he could keep a good distance ahead of you. 

You heard water rushing as the wolf dropped out of sight. Thinking he might have fallen, you rushed to where you last saw him. The trees broke away, revealing a rippling river with cool pools stretching through the forest. You took in the beautiful scenery, the ice blue water cascading down tiny waterfalls, when sudden movement caught your eye. You focused where you saw it and gasped. A salmon jumped from the water, swimming upstream. That one was joined by another, then two more, until the whole river seemed to burst with fish. 

You laughed in shock and amusement at the sight, but were cut off short by something cold and slimy hitting your face. You sputtered against it, swiping it away from you. Looking down, you saw your assailant was flopping on the sandy river bank. A giant salmon, mouth gapping and scales shimmering in the sunlight. 

You heard a huff that you could have sworn sounded amused. Looking up, you saw the wolf at the edge of the bank, dipping his paw in the water. He looked deeply into the river, still as a rock, before striking all at once and bringing his paw up. He batted another fish out of the water. You put your hands up, catching it in a slimy, uncertain grip. The fish thrashed around and you ended up dropping him on his friend. 

“You know all the best places, huh?” You said. The wolf shook water off of his fur and went back to focusing on the river. “I’m going to run back and get the cooler! We’ll be able to carry a lot more that way!” You weren’t sure why you were telling a wolf this, as if he could understand you, but it felt right somehow. 

You carefully followed your footsteps back to the cabin, breaking a twig or making a mark on a tree as you went to make a path. Back at the cabin, you quickly pulled the food you had brought with you out of the cooler, shoving it in the mini-fridge. You didn’t have an ice maker in the cabin, so you hoped the already half-thawed cold packs would work. Almost as an afterthought, you grabbed the first aid kit, tossing it in the cooler. Luging the cooler over your shoulder, you followed your improvised markers back to the river. 

You set the bulky cooler down heavily on the bank, looking up with a wide grin for your new companion. Scanning the banks and treeline, your face gradually fell as your search turned fruitless. Your new wolf buddy was nowhere to be seen. 

At first, you felt sad that he had just up and left, then scared for his injury. He was still having trouble walking. What if whatever was prowling around your cabin last night came back and tried to take a bite of him? 

“Wolf?” You called out, almost immediately feeling like an idiot for doing so. You knew you should have named him. Although, it wasn’t like he was trained to respond to your call. You had to remind yourself that this was a wild animal and not a trained dog from the pound, despite his reluctant friendliness. “Wolf? Where’d you go, big guy? Hello?” 

“If you keep yelling like that, a whole pack is going to come and tear you apart.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the very human response. Bracing your hands on your knees, you looked down the drop away from the bank to the river. There was a tiny beach there. Leaving against the sandy drop was a boy, head tilted back and face bathed in the sunlight. Despite his relaxed body posture, one leg spread out in front of him, the other bent to his chest, arms loosely crossed, he had an annoyed if not pained expression across his face. His hair was the color of fresh cut wheat, but as spiky as a porcupine. Lolling his head in your direction, he opened his eyes under furrowed brows. You thought it was a trick of the light, but you could swear they were a deep red. ‘Like garnets…’ You thought, memory jumping back to your missing wolf friend. 

“Uh, sorry,” You said. “I was just looking for-” 

And then your heart stopped as you suddenly remembered why you were out in the middle of the woods. The whole reason you had come here, why the police had dragged you away from your everyday life for your own protection. 

You tripped over your own feet flinging yourself backwards. You landed heavy on your butt. Scrambling back, your head whipped from side to side looking for something to defend yourself with. Damn it! You should have grabbed your bat when you got the cooler! 

“Hey!” He yelled up at you. “You going to keep spazzing out or give me a hand here?” 

“Depends,” You said. “What are you doing out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” 

“The hell do you think I’m doing? I work out here.” You saw his hand come up and grip the edge of the bank. He pulled himself up, but winced in pain. Bracing his arms against the bank, he said, “I’m a forest ranger, kind of. Tag some of the animals, make sure no one’s starting forest fires, keep poachers away, that sort of thing. I kind of got banged up here, though, can’t put a lot of weight on my ankle.” He rolled his eyes, leaving the statement hanging in the air for your response. 

“Oh!” Of course, you thought to yourself, you had no real reason to trust what he was saying. He didn’t look like a ranger, dressed in a black muscle shirt and dark green cargo pants. But you could tell he was having trouble standing. But then, that could be an act too… 

“Sure,” You finally decided. “Hang on.” You looked through the brush until you found a fallen tree branch. You lugged it over, dropping half down the bank and keeping it ancored under your foot. You held out your hand to him. He grasped just beyond your wrist, pulling up and using the branch and a foothold to push himself up. Once he was up on the upper bank, he tried to take a step. You could immediately see his ankle give out, crumbling like wet paper. He fell to his knees with an annoyed sound, catching himself on his palms. 

“You okay?” You said, retrieving the branch and not so subtly holding it in front of you. 

“Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He tried to brush you off. You could see his entire calf was wrapped in bandages. It looked like some wound had reopened and was bleeding through. 

“What happened?” You ask, nodding to his leg. 

He looked down, growling at the red soaking through the bandages. “I have to get pretty close to some animals for my job. Checking tags or making sure they’re not hurting themselves. I thought I’d tranquilized a bear, but I guess he wasn’t all the way under.” 

“A bear?! You fought a bear?” 

He waved a hand at you. “I didn’t ‘fight a bear.’ I was just trying to get a blood sample and must have spooked him. He took a swipe at me. I’ll be fine.” 

“That sure doesn’t look fine.” You pointed to his bandage. 

He clicked his tongue. “Damn it.” 

You rung your hands around the branch. “I have a first aid kit. I’m pretty good at it. I could take a look if you want.” 

He practically snarled at you, trying to stand up again. “I don’t need some-” As he tried to put weight on his ankle, he let out a choked yelp, cutting into that tough guy persona he obviously was trying very hard to portray. He lost his balance, wheeling his arms. You dropped your branch, lunging forward just as he fell. You caught him under his arms, throwing your balance off. You both fell, you landing on your back. You groaned, rubbing the back of your head. Opening your eyes, you squeaked seeing his face so close to yours, bright red eyes locked on to yours. Your mouth suddenly went dry and your face went hot. He was practically pinning you down. 

His face burst into a blush as he threw himself off of you. He crossed his arms stubbornly.  Looking away, he said, “Yeah, fine. Maybe I need a new bandage.” 

“C-cool! Yeah! Great!” Well, at least you were pretty sure he wasn’t here to kill you. That would have been a pretty good opportunity. Unless he wanted to slay you with embarrassment, which seemed like a possibility. 

You silently checked out his ankle, spraying it out with antibacterial and put a fresh bandage on it. At this rate, you were going to run out of medical supplies before the week was over. 

“Hey,” You said in an effort to break the tension. You noticed the tips of his ears were still a blushed red. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the wolves around here?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, suddenly suspicious. “There haven’t been wild wolves in this area for over a hundred years.” 

You blinked. “Wait, no, that can’t be. There was a wolf at my cabin last night. It sounded like he was being attacked by another pack or something.” 

He looked at you hard. “There haven’t been wolves here in a long time. If you think you saw one, you didn’t.” 

You huffed. “I’m pretty sure I know what I saw, not to mention felt. He spent the night in my cabin.” 

“What kind of idiot lets a wolf spend the night in their cabin with them?” 

“Ha! So you admit it could have been a wolf!” 

“I didn’t say that!” 

You smiled, leaning back on your hands and looking out over the river. “It was fine though. He seemed trained or something. A little prickly, but he was hurt so I didn’t mind.” You heard him mutter something that sounded like “not prickly.” You continued, “He disappeared this morning, though. Around here. I’m kinda disappointed. It’s kind of lonely out here. But hey! I guess I have a new friend now!” You good naturally punched his shoulder. He winced and you just now noticed the fading bruise. “Oops. Sorry.” 

“Sure you are. And who said we were friends, anyway? You don’t even know my name.” 

Putting on your most welcoming smile (and trying not to grimace at his tone), you held out your hand. “(Y/N) (L/N), trapped out in the middle of nowhere for the foreseeable future for reasons I cannot currently disclose. Very nice to meet you.” 

He looked from your hand to your face a few times. He looked like he was turning something over in his head. Flexing his hand, he lifted it up and gripped yours strongly. You could feel the heat radiating from it, like he was a living space heater. “Bakugo. And that’s all you’re getting.” 

You fake pouted. “We will be friends, mark my words.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What were you doing out here anyway?” 

“I told you, I cannot currently discloses that information.” 

He huffed a laugh. “What, are you a spy or something? Lost princess?” 

If only, you thought. “Something like that.” 

“Hmm. You don’t have a fishing rod.” 

“Uh, yeah. I was kind of counting on my wolf friend to help me out. He did this thing where he just sort of whacked them out of the water.” You mimicked the motion in the air. 

“For the last time, there aren’t any wolves around here. Just drop it.” 

“Fine, fine. There wasn’t a wolf even though there definitely was. And I don’t know what I’ll do, exactly. I suppose I can survive on canned soup, saltines, and beans for however long I’m stuck out here.” 

“That’s disgusting.” He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at the clouds. “Alright, here’s what you do. You at least have a knife, right? Good. I’m going to teach you how to make a fish weir.” 

For the next hour, Bakugo talked you through cutting reeds and shaping them into a W-shaped trap in the river. According to Bakugo, the V-like entrance made it easy for fish to get in, while the indented center made it hard or impossible to get out. After some (a lot) of trial and error,  you successfully trapped a huge salmon. 

“I got one!” You yelled in excitement. “I got it!” 

“Good for you,” Bakugo said. “Now take your knife and stab it.” 

“Yeah, what?” 

“Right behind the gills.” 

“Uh, right, okay.” For a few blissful seconds there, you forgot you had to kill a fish to be able to eat it. Using another reed you cut for an unsuccessful weir, you pinned the fish to the side. Wincing, you stabbed the fish’s gills, trying to ignore how it flopped around the trap. Spearing it on your knife, you hoisted it out of the water, flicking it onto the bank. 

“Oh, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross!”  You flapped your hands. Bakugo laughed at your distress. You tried to ignore how much you liked the sound. “Oh, shut up. It’s my first time.” 

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Your first time, huh? Glad I could walk you through it.” 

You felt yourself flush. “Oh my god!” Without thinking too much about it, you speared another fish in the trap, using your knife to fling it. The half alive fish landed smack on his chest, flopping around in a mess of falling scales and fish slime. 

He sputtered, slapping it away. He snarled, “Hey!” 

You laughed, hands resting on your thighs. “What? Now we both have dinner.” 

Catching a few more and storing them in your cooler, Bakugo taught you how to make a box-like campfire. Creating a grill with your reeds, you roasted some of the fish over the fire, picking it off with your fingers. You both sat by the river and watched the sun set. 

Not wanting your time together to end, but becoming too aware of the late hour, you said, “I should probably get back to the cabin. Not sure I could find it in the dark.” 

Bakugo shrugged. He struggled to stand up, waving you off when you tried to help him. Taking a few separate steps, he gripped a low hanging branch from a tree. With a thunderous crack, he ripped the branch off. Pulling off a few twigs, he held it under his arm as a makeshift crutch. 

“Hey,” He said, not looking at you. It sounded like he was deliberating something. “If you ever need help, I’m usually at the fire watchtower. See? You can see the roof from here. It’s about two miles that way.” He pointed over the tree line. You could just make out the top of a brown corrugated roof. 

“Sure you don’t want to take any of these back?” You asked, motioning to the cooler of fish. 

“Naw. You need all the help you can get.” 

“Hey!” As he wandered off, you yelled to him, “Watch out for the wolves!”

“There aren’t any wolves!” 

“You’ll believe me eventually!” 

~~~ 

You methodically tapped your fingers against the mug you held, letting the heat of your hot chocolate seep into your fingers. You were sitting in a folding chair just outside the cabin, bat leaning against the chair’s arm. You were snuggled up in a heavy blanket, watching the fireflies dance through the heavy trees, trying to remember consolations. 

But really, if you were being honest with yourself, you were waiting for the wolf. 

It didn’t matter if Bakugo said he wasn’t real. You knew what you saw. Maybe he had escaped from some conservation area or zoo? And he seemed used to people, so maybe he was trained? But that didn’t explain the howls you heard as you tended to the wolf’s wounds. It definitely sounded like some rival pack was hunting him down. 

It broke your heart to think of him all alone and injured out there. 

As if called by your thoughts, a round of howling rose from the depths of the forest. You jumped to your feet. The hot chocolate sloshed from your mug, burning your hand. Frantically waving your hand to ease the burn, you didn’t notice the heavy foot falls until it was too late. You turned as the thumping was right behind you. 

It felt like you were hit by a train. Your breath left you with a ‘woomp.’ Falling hard, your arms came up to wrap around what had just barrelled into you, catching it like a football. You would like to say that you were more surprised than you actually were  when your fingers dug into thick fur and bursts of dog breath panted in your face. 

“Hey there, Golden Boy,” You said, rubbing between his ears. You had decided on his name, Golden Boy, while trying to convince Bakugo of his existence. It seemed apt given his brilliant coat.  Your wolf friend yipped at you. Scrambling off, he crouched down in an attack position, growling at the trees. “Come on, bud.” You juggled your folding chair, blanket, bat, and (now empty) mug, pushing open the cabin door with your hip. The wolf backed into the cabin, eyes never leaving the tree line, lips curled into a snarl, until you closed and locked the door again. 

You took out a bowl from the cabinets. Opening a bottle of water, you filled up the bowl, placing it near the tired wolf. Crawling over on his stomach, he didn’t even lift his head as he started to lap at the water. 

“Yikes,” You said. “Rough night, huh?” You ran a hand along his back. He managed a half-hearted glare at you before deciding it wasn’t worth it and going back to his water. 

“So, you’re a wolf, right?” He ignored you, which is what you expected. But you always had a habit of talking to animals like they could talk back. “Because I met a guy today, yeah, I’m not the only person stranded out here, can you imagine, and he said there aren’t any wolves in this area. I mean, I guess you could just be a really big dog. You ever seen an Irish wolfhound? Probably taller than me. Or a Caucasian shepherd dog? I hear they used to breed those in Russia to hunt bears.

“I guess it’s kind of nice to have someone else around. Not that you’re not great company.” Could wolves roll their eyes? “Just… It can get kind of scary out here, you know? Well, probably not, you live in the woods and all. No offence and all, but this isn’t really my idea of a vacation.” 

You leaned against the wall, sitting cross-legged on your bed pallet. Golden Boy shuffled to you, resting his massive head in your lap while you checked his wound and changed the dressing. It seemed to be healing rapidly, way faster than you would have expected. 

“The truth is,” You continued. “I’m actually in hiding. There are some people who, uh, I’m pretty sure they want me dead. Maybe not me specifically. My dad made some bad choices, hey, that can be the title of my autobiography, and now I’m paying for it.” 

You felt your throat tighten up as a wave of emotion snuck up and crashed over you. You hiccuped, pressing your lips together as you tried not to cry in front of your canine audience. He looked up at you, wide, deep red eyes. Your eyes burned as tears threatened to spill out. 

Without warning, Golden Boy jerked his head up, wiping his long, wet tongue across your cheek, ineffectively wiping away your tears. You sputtered at the dog drool, breaking out into a giggle fit as he kept licking your face. 

“Okay, okay, I get it, stop already! I have a big, strong protector here to take care of me, huh?” He buried his head in your lap again. You  rubbed his ear between your fingers. “And I’ll take care of you, too. You know that, right? We’re in this together.” 

~~~

“Bakugo! I’ve come to pester you!” 

The next day, you awoke to find your wolf friend missing. You weren’t exactly sure how he managed to get out of the cabin since all the doors and windows were still securely closed, but you’d seen videos of pets doing weirder things. Maybe you should have named him Houdini. After cleaning up the cabin a little and finding a more stable storage space for the salmon you caught yesterday, a deep loneliness started gnawing at you. Stowing a tin of shortbread cookies under your arm, you set out in the direction of the river to find the watchtower Bakugo had pointed out to you yesterday. 

You finally found it about midday, only being scared to death at the possibility of getting hopelessly lost twice. You climbed up the high stairs to the box structure on top. The sides were made up of mesh screens, covered from the inside by thick curtains, you guessed so that he could keep an eye out for possible forest fires. 

“Hello? I brought an offering!” 

You heard some grumbling and banging around from inside the box. You heard a heavy lock slide open as the door cracked open. Bakugo’s ruby eyes met yours and you felt a pang of worry for your Golden Boy. 

“An offering, huh?” Smiling, you held up the tin. “Fine. I guess that’s a good enough reason to bug me.” 

You practically skipped inside. Bakugo pulled at the curtains causing them to zip up and spin on their rollers. The room was cluttered, which you mostly expected from going over to your bachelor friend’s houses. What you didn’t expect was exactly how it was cluttered. It wasn’t like clothes had been dropped on the floor and forgotten, a pile of dirty dishes and overflowing trash. The reality was more chaotic, like someone had turned over the place robbing it. Papers about the geography, flora, and fauna of the forest were strewn on every flat surface. The cot bed was stripped bare, looking like it hadn’t been slept in in days. There was a tall stack of books stacked on a table next to a wooden folding chair half pushed under a desk. A cork board was above the desk, red string connecting bits of cut-out newspaper articles, Polaroid photos, sticky notes with chicken-scratch handwriting, and marked-up calandras. 

Bakugo half-heartedly picked up a shirt from the ground. “Wasn’t really expecting company.” 

You shrugged. “You a big reader?” 

You set the cookie tin down, picking up one of the books. Its pages were marked with various colored tabs. Flipping through the pages, you saw blocks of text that had been highlighted. The book fell open to reveal a copy of a wood-cut illustration of a large man with a wolf head. His snout was pointed to the sky, jaw open in mid-howl. In his meaty hands, tipped with razor sharp claws, he cradled a woman in some medieval German peasant dress. Her head was fallen back, eyes rolled back in her head, a blood stain spreading across her neck and chest. In the background, a mass of angry villagers marched forward, armed with the standard torches and pitchforks. A bone white full moon hung overhead. 

Bakugo snapped the book closed in your hands. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to snoop through people's stuff?” 

“I wasn’t snooping,” You said defensively. “And just so you know, no, they didn’t. My folks weren’t exactly the etiquette type.” 

“Clearly.” 

“Hey!” 

He smirked at you, prying open the cookie tin and munching on a piece of shortbread. You sat down in the folding chair, looking down dubiously when it creaked under you. 

“So, how does a guy get a gig hanging out in the middle of the woods, anyway?” 

“How do you?” 

You pressed your lips, trying not to let Bakugo feel the sudden drop in your mood. You blinded him with a smile. “Maybe I just really like bird-watching.” 

“Sure. Bird-watching.” 

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Standing, you turned away and looked out the messy windows, taking in the acres upon acres of unspoiled wilderness. “Wow, you can see for forever up here.” Squinting, you saw the dip in trees around your cabin, the red roof just barely visible. “Hey, that’s my place!” You looked over your shoulder at him and winked. “You’re not spying on me, are you?” 

He popped in another cookie, wolfing it down in one bite. “You wish.” 

You hummed, looking back out over the trees. “Can you..” You trailed off. “Can you see if people come into the woods?” 

He came over to stand next to you, hiding the tin in the crook of his arm. “I don’t get records of who comes in or out, if that’s what you mean. That’s for the rangers at the front gates. I see campfires, sometimes. Need to make sure they don’t get out of control.” 

“And if someone, or, like, a group, maybe, was trying to sneak in? Like, not going through the front gates so there was no record of them being here?” 

He paused mid-bite and looked at you sideways. “You’re hiding.” 

You mock-laughed. “What? No, no. Of course I’m not hiding. Why would I be hiding?” 

“(Y/N),” He cut you off. He moved his head so you were forced to look directly into his ruby-red eyes. 

You crossed your arms and looked away. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” 

He leaned back. “That’s okay. But, hey, we can look out for each other, yeah?” He curled his biceps, flexing his muscles. “Besides, you got a big, strong protector here, don’t ya? You don’t have anything to worry about.” 

“Big, strong protector, huh?” You echoed. 

He leaned closer, eyes half lidded. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Yeah.” 

You suddenly became away of how close you two were standing, how you could smell the remnants of the sweet cookies on his breath, about how soft his hair looked and thinking about what it might be like to run your hand through it, about how his muscles looked when he flexed them. 

You blinked hard, jerking yourself out of this impromptu daydream. You felt the tips of your ears burn as your face flushed. 

“The wolf came back last night,” You blurted. 

His eyebrows furrowed, mouth falling from a sultry smirk to a frustrated frown. “He did, huh?” 

“Yup! I named him, even. Golden Boy. Cause his fur is this really pretty yellow, you know? Kind of like your hair, but less shaggy.” Before you could stop yourself, you reached up and messed his bed-head. Good god, it was just as soft as you thought. 

He pulled away, scrunching his nose and fixing his hair. “Th-that’s stupid. Why would I look like some dog?” 

“So you admit he’s real?” 

“I said dog, not wolf. His owner probably just dropped him off in the woods somewhere. It’s sad, but it happens. Sounds like he’s doing alright for himself.” 

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.” You leaned on your elbows. “Every night he’s come to my cabin he’s been pretty beat up. Could another animal be targeting him? A bear or another wolf - sorry, abandoned dog?” 

Bakugo looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, maybe. There’s a lot of dangerous creatures out in those woods.” His voice dropped low. “A lot of dangerous creatures.” 

You looked over at the stack of books, the one with the werewolf illustration placed haphazardly on the top. “Like werewolves?” You joked. 

He didn’t answer you. 

~~~

“Buckle up, Golden Boy, we are going on a field trip.” 

It was night again a few days later. You’d spent almost two weeks in the woods by this point. Your days were mostly spent hanging out with Bakugo in the fire watch tower or hiking through the forest with him. He’d given you a blank mole-skin notebook. You’d started sketching and labeling plants and animals you saw on your hikes with him. He’d ramble off information he’d learned from preparing for this job. While your drawing skills needed some improvement, you liked the calm, methodical motions and scratch of pen on paper, taking note of the tiny details that made one plant safe to eat and different from the poisonous one. 

Your nights were spent with Golden Boy. His wound had long since cleared up, surprisingly fast, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all. You weren’t exactly sure why he kept coming to you at night. He obviously didn’t need any help finding food. Maybe he felt safer with you behind protective walls? A few times, you thought you saw reflective eyes in the depths of the trees, watching as you let Golden Boy inside the cabin as the moon rose. Or maybe he really did used to be someone’s pet and just felt lonely abandoned out here. He’d always be gone by the time you woke up, no matter how many times you’d fallen asleep leaning against him or curled under your arm. 

You’d also  kept arguing his existence to your hot-headed friend. Tonight, you finally decided to prove yourself right. You were going to bring your proof right to his front door. 

“Come on,” You said, clapping your hands at the wolf lounging by the fire. “You’re going to help me rub some sweet ‘I told you so’ in a cute guy’s face.” He raised his head at you, giving you a look you had come to read from his doggy face. “What? He is. Or maybe I’ve just been stranded in the woods for too long.” You shrugged. Golden Boy let out his ‘you’re ridiculous’ puff of air noise and flopped over so the fire could warm his belly. You took two quick steps forward and rubbed your hand over his belly, it sinking into the thick fur. He let out a surprised yip and curled up, nipping at your hand before licking it and resigning himself to your attention. 

You laughed, heading back to the door. “Come on! I haven’t gone hiking at night before. Think of all the cool nocturnal animals I can record in my journal. And I need my bodyguard, right? It’ll be fun-“ 

You cut yourself off. You opened the door, freezing as you came face-to-face with a fist, poised to knock. Looking past the fist, your throat went dry, heart dropping into your stomach, head going fuzzy. A man stood there in an expensive looking suit. He looked a little surprised, then flashed a wide used-car-salesman smile. One of his teeth was golden. You could see scars criss-crossing his knuckles and up one of his cheeks. His hair was practically a helmet with all the pomade in it. 

“Well, hello there!” He said, chipper. That somehow made it worse. “I don’t suppose you’re (Y/N) (L/N), are you?” 

The door blurred as you slammed it shut. Just before it closed, the man stopped it with his hands, which now seemed way too large and strong. You tried pushing it closed, but your muscles, even flooded with the adrenaline shooting through your veins, were no match for his. 

You stumbled backward as he threw the door open. You saw several more equally if not more menacing men behind him. One was rolling up his sleeves, one checking the knuckle-dusters shining on his hands, one methodically fiddling with the safety on a gun. 

You backed away, stopping when the back of your calves nudged into Golden Boy, who was now standing, a low growl emanating from his throat. 

“Hey there, pup,” The smiling man said. He leaned down, rubbing his fingers together to encourage Golden Boy to come forward. Your wolf just snapped his fangs. “Aw, well. You hate hurting animals, but sometimes it’s just a hazard of the job.” He drew out a long hunting knife from a sheath shoved in his belt loop. It glistened in the fire light. 

You were going to throw up. 

“I don’t know anything,” You said, hating the waver in your voice. How could you have become so comfortable, so careless? Where the hell was your bat? “I don’t know where my dad is, I don’t know where your money is. I don’t know anything, I promise.” Tears were blurring your vision, stinging the back of your eyes. 

“I’m sure you don’t, sweetheart,” He said. The other men crowded in through the door. The cabin suddenly felt ten times smaller. “But, you know, loose ends.” 

Yellow blurred in your vision. Golden Boy flashed in front of you, powerful jaws clamping down on the man’s knife hand. He yowled in pain and shock, the knife clattering to the floor. The other men were stunned for a moment before lunging forward. One hit Golden Boy hard on the back of his head, another grabbing his back legs and yanking hard. Golden Boy kept his death-grip, red oozing from his mouth. 

You scrambled backward, head whipping around to look for your bat. It now felt woefully useless. There, cast off in a corner. You’d been using it to dry dish towels. 

It felt like 100 pounds in your hands. 

You heard an unsettling thump followed by a yelp. Whipping around, you saw the man had managed to dislodge Golden Boy, throwing him against the wall. You cried a broken noise. You felt a hand grab the scruff of your neck. You jammed the bat behind you, connecting with the soft bulge of the man’s stomach. He “oof”ed and his grip loosened. You flung yourself forward, landing hard on your knees, and scrambled up. The door was wide open, the men temporarily distracted. You didn’t think twice. 

You shot up, sliding like a baseball player going to home plate in front of Golden Boy. You held your bat in front of you like Excalibur itself. 

“Don’t you fucking touch my dog!” You’d never said anything with such venom in your voice, but you still didn’t feel like it was enough to appropriately express your rage. Golden Boy shook his head, getting back to his feet. He stood by your side, head lowered between his shoulders, baring his teeth stained with blood. 

The smiling man, who was now scowling in disgust, wrapped his bleeding hand with a way too expensive handkerchief. “God, typical. I hate dogs. Let’s hurry up and finish this.” 

The one with the gun raised it, pointing it right between your eyes. You stood fast, gripping the bat so hard your hands were turning white. 

You wanted to see Bakugo. It hit you like lightening that that was who was coming to your mind. You wanted to say something to him, an explanation of why you wouldn’t wake him up tomorrow morning. You wanted to make him promise he would take care of Golden Boy, after making him admit that you were right about the wolves. You wanted to hug him, to go on a walk someplace other than the woods, you wanted to cook a real meal in a real kitchen with him, you wanted to wake up in the morning with him at your side, Golden Boy at your feet. 

You wanted so many things you knew you wouldn’t be getting. So you had to focus on what you could get. You wanted Golden Boy to get out of here, to be safe. And by hell or high water, you were going to do that. 

You swung the bat back, aiming for the gunman’s wrist. You would knock the gun out of his hand, grab Golden Boy, kick him if you had to, get him out the door to get a head start. You’d probably get shot in the back doing it, but maybe the loud noise would startle him into running away. As long as he was safe, what else mattered? 

One second you were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, making peace with yourself. The next, the gun was gone, and so was the man. Blinking, you looked around to see where he had disappeared to. The other men, equally baffled, didn’t have time to react as they were tackled to the ground along with their firearm friend. 

Golden Boy was in front of you, pushing you back by leaning his weight against your legs. You watched as your tiny cabin filled with giant wolves, gray, red, black, brown, all with flashing fangs and claws. One man with a knife reared up, pulling his arm back to throw the knife at you. Materializing out of thin air, a new man, one you hadn’t seen before, appeared behind him, catching the first in a headlock and pulling him down until he went limp in a choked-out sleep. 

The new man snarled, whipping his head around to stare right into your soul. And he was naked. How did you not notice that? The man looked like he threw full grown trees around for fun, and cut them down for work. Every inch of skin, and there was a lot of skin, had some scar tissue or mark indicating a life of hard-scraps. 

His eyes snapped down to Golden Boy, still setting himself firmly between you and the raucous crowd. The man jerked his head to the open door. “Wait outside,” He said, voice unbelievably gruff and low. “We’ll take care of this.” 

“Okay?” You said, voice loose. You felt like you were going to faint. You grounded yourself with a tug on your sleeve. Looking down, you saw Golden Boy, his teeth gently closed around your sleeve. He somehow managed to avoid looking at you, pulling you on unsteady feet out in the cool night air. He kicked the door shut with his hide leg as soon as you were out. 

All of your energy left you at once. You slumped against a tree, forehead leaning on your knees and blood rushing back into your hands as you dropped your bat. You sat there, still save for the involuntary tremors that racked your body, for who knows how long. 

You heard a quiet whimper. Peeking your eyes through your fingers, you saw Golden Boy. He was pacing, eyes downcast and tail tucked between his legs. He was limping a little, his old wound bothered in no small part due to being bodily thrown against the wall. 

“Hey,” You said softly. He jerked to a stop and looked up at you, bringing his eyes back down in a guilty expression. “It’s okay. Come here.” You held your hands out, palms up and fingers splayed. He trotted over to you, resting his enormous head in your hands and laying down, his chest pressing on your legs. You buried your face in the thick fur on the back of his neck. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

When the cabin door creaked open, panic seized your adrenaline abandoned muscles. Your hand shot to the bat, its strange weight now frighteningly familiar. Golden Boy barely stirred in your lap, only lazily opening his eyes and shifting closer to you as if hiding from some sort of punishment. 

The burly man stepped out first, still naked, you (unfortunately) noticed. He had two yakuza members with him, one slung over each shoulder, limp and unmoving. Next came three huge wolves, one of them walking backward while pulling along another gang member by the cuff of his pants. A woman came out with him, also naked, with the longest hair you had ever seen, similarly scuffed and scraped as the first man. She was followed by two more wolves. The strange group dumped the bodies of your attackers in a haphazard pile near the tree line. Were they dead? You couldn’t tell. God, which option was better? 

The man stretched, thick cords of muscle rippling under his skin. He sighed, like a tired parent, and turned to you. You cut your gaze away quickly, making sure to keep your eyes above a certain level. 

“Are you badly hurt?” His voice was the same low rumble of an earthquake. 

“Um, no. I-I think we’re okay. Thank you.” 

He hummed, rolling his shoulders. “No thanks necessary. We stand for our own, no matter the pack.” 

“I’m sorry, pack?” You asked, voice squeaking. Your brain was working overtime to process everything. 

“Hmph.” The man looked disappointed but not surprised. He nudged Golden Boy with his foot. The wolf whined again, turning his head away. “You still can’t shift on command? How are you meant to lead your pack when you can’t do the most basic things?” Golden Boy whined and grumbled. 

“I-what? What does any of this have to do with my dog?” You wrapped your arms protectively around him. 

The man quirked an eyebrow. “A wolf without a pack is a dangerous thing. A lone creature who can’t even control his own body needs to be culled. Now that he has found a pack, he has a greater responsibility. He’s part of a whole, not only himself.” 

“Hang on-” You tried to stand up only for Golden Boy to shove his weight down on you harder. “Were you the ones hurting Golden Boy? What’s the matter with you? Why would you hurt an animal? And, sorry, but why are you naked? I tried not to say anything but it’s kind of bothering me a lot.” 

The man stared you down, looking back to your wolf. “You didn’t tell her anything?” Golden Boy whined. The man sighed. “This will be more difficult than I thought. Our pack must move. We’ve completed our duty.We’ll deal with this… refuse.” He looked at the unconscious yakuza. He nudged Golden Boy again. “Take care of this one. He has a lot to learn.” 

The man turned, a yell building in your throat. In front of your eyes, he shifted, skin sprouting silver gray hair. You heard the pop of bones as the man seemed to fall over, but you quickly realized his entire body structure had changed. Where a person had once stood, a wolf walked. The woman from before was also gone, now just the group of wolves. The gray wolf looked back at you, nodding once, before raising up a howl with the rest of his pack. 

When you finally managed to feel your heartbeat slow to a non-life-threatening level, you looked down. “Alright, we have a lot to talk about, because apparently you can do that?” Golden Boy turned away from you. “Yeah, alright, nap first. Nap sounds good.” 

You passed out. 

~~~ 

You woke up with a headache knocking at your temples. Your mouth felt thick with cotton. You felt warm, gradually taking note of the blanket that had been carefully draped over you. Blearily opening your eyes, you watched dust motes float through shafts of light that filtered through the curtains on your cabin windows. You must have forgotten to dose the fire before you went to bed. It was still crackling in the fireplace. 

“Golden Boy?” You said, voice craggy. Why were you still wearing your day clothes? “Yout there, bud?” 

A knuckle rapped gently on your forehead. “Exactly how hard did you hit your head?” 

You shot up, immediately regretting it as pain flared up your spine to bloom in your skull. “Whoa, hey, take it easy.” A pair of hands steadied your shoulders, helping you sit up. 

You blinked hard, looking up into now familiar red eyes. “Bakugo?” 

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can call me Katsuki now, you know. I think we’re close enough, after everything.” 

“Everything-? Oh. Oh! Oh my god!” You tried to jump up, knees giving out underneath you. Your limbs felt like they were encased in lead. 

“I told you to take it easy, dumbass,” Bakugo, Katsuki, said. He caught you before you fell, helping you sit back down. He stood up, going to the stove and sliding a pancake on top of a stack, still steaming. Pulling half onto a separate plate, he came back, handing one to you.

Numbly, you took it, tearing a piece off and shoving it in your mouth. “You have pecans in here.” 

“We didn’t have any syrup, so I thought this would be a good substitute. Having pancakes on their own is kind of boring.” 

“Sure. Yeah. So.” You let it hang there, watching him avoid your eyes and much on pancakes. 

He swallowed. “So.” He ate half of another one before continuing. “I’m a werewolf.” 

You blinked. “Okay.” 

He scowled. ‘There it is,’ You thought. “‘Okay’? That’s all you have to say?” 

You shrugged. “I mean, what else am I supposed to say? I’m pretty sure a group of werewolves saved my life last night. I literally saw a guy turn into a wolf, so that checks out. I might still be in shock a little bit, to be honest. So, uh, werewolf, huh?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes and shoving another pancake in his mouth. You cracked a smile and joked, “Well, you sure eat like a dog.” He punched your shoulder. You both laughed anyway. 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” He said eventually. “I don’t think anyone does. I got bit by a rogue wolf. Turned pretty soon after. I’m not going to lie, I did some pretty bad stuff. I was freaked out, half out of my mind, those wolf instincts kicking in. It’s not an excuse, but… I got a job out here, thought I could isolate myself, research to see if I could find a cure or something. The pack found me almost immediately. I mean, I practically waltzed right in to their territory, so I can’t blame them. That rule they have, it’s true. A lone werewolf, someone without a pack, they’re dangerous. Unpredictable. They tried to… put me down. I usually managed to get away, but one night I made a stupid mistake. I should have died.” He looked up at you. “And then I ran in to you.” 

“And then you ran in to me.” You reached out, petting your hand through his hair. It was still soft, whether as a golden wolf or a human. “So, I’m your pack now? That’s what that guy said, the other werewolf. What does that mean, exactly?” 

He blushed, pulling apart his remaining pancakes. “A pack is like a family. They look out for each other, stand with each other. I didn’t tell them we were a pack or anything. I guess they just sort of inferred. Since, like, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, no matter what form.” 

You grinned. “They think you’re my boyfriend?”  He punched you again, with less malice this time. “Hey, I didn’t say I minded.” 

“It’s a lot,” Katsuki continued quickly, the words all rushing out as if he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to say it all. “I still don’t know a lot about all this. I always shift at night. I’m trying to get better at controlling it, but it’s hard. And it’s hard to go through all the history and stuff and pull out fact from fiction. I feel like I can’t control anything and I’m so fucking useless and I-“ 

You pressed your lips against his. Finally. His lips were chapped, and your teeth clacked together at first, but the warmth that spread through your chest made it all worth it. A plate clattered against the floor as he shifted closer to you. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, bringing you closer. Your fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, pulling. 

He pulled back, your breath mixing together. 

“I think I like the woods, now,” You said, softly. “It’s nice out here. Good company.” He chuckled, lowley. “And I like you. A lot. And I love dogs.”

He laughed loudly, once, before pulling you back in for another kiss.

[pianostarinwonderland]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AZUL

i have nothing prepared for you except my wet soppy thoughts

maybe i might rush write something bc i do have a few ideas on what to write

fucking breathes

the best. fucking. groovy. ever.

like everyone go home right now.

I have tried to think of every way they could make him look good but it ends up being how they could fuck it up because I’m gonna be honest, a lot of Azul’s recent cards are either decent or not hitting that well 🤡🤡

but this. THIS.

HOLLLLYYYYYYYY FUCK IT’S EVERYTHING

THE LIGHTING . THE THE FUCKING FUCK.

TEH ? VMS LISTEN. HE'S THE CHARACTER FOR EVIL SMIRKS, SO OFC THIS SERIES OF EVIL GROOVIES WAS GONNA BE PERFECT FOR HIM BUT BU T BU T

THIS IS SOOOOOO GOOOD. LIKE??????? DEADASS THE BEST ???? SMIRK??????? HE'S EVER MADE?????????? AND HE LOOKS SOOOO MUCH LIKE HIMSELF

THIS IS ALSO THE BEST ANGLE WE'VE EVER GOTTEN THAT SHOWS HIS 'BALD' SIDE AND THAT'S S OGUFKCKNGJ GOOD

AND AND

🧍‍♀️

h

he hey sir.

your hand looks cold.

m mm mind if i h hh hh hhhh hhol— gunshots are fired

ADN CAN I JUST

CRY ABOUT

PART OF YOUR WORLD BEING THE PAINTING LIKE LEI EK JLGSLKGNLSKDNGOADSNGOAINSAONGOAISNGI0AOHGIOAHGSDHIFGHSDOIGFHNSDINGIDSNJGKVDS

FUCKKKKK THIS WAS WHAT I'VE WANTED FOR THE PAST FWE MONTHS

THE PART OF YOUR WORLD SEGMETJKNJENJKSNGFNDKSJNGKSDKGNSDKLNGLSDGNDSLGS

FUCKGN ISN FCYRING

LISTEN LISTEN.

LISTEN.

I WILL DROP A HOT TAKE RIGHT NOW

THE LITTLE MERMAID SONG THAT DEFINES AZUL IS NOT POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS BUT IT'S PART OF YOUR WORLD

AZUL'S SCHEMING AND CUNNING IS DEFINITELY FROM URSULA AND IS REFLECTED SOOOO MUCH IN POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS

BUT HIS DREAMS

HIS GOALS

HIS AMBITIONS AND DETERMINATION TO MAKE HIS WISHES COME TRUE

PART OF YOUR WORLD REFLECTS THAT.

AZUL WOULD NOT BE AZUL IF IT WASNT FOR PART OF YOUR WORLD

AND THE SPECIFIC PART THEY SHOW OF PART OF YOUR WORLD. IT'S THE PART WHERE ARIEL WAS DETERMINED TO GET TO THE SURFACE

THAT'S LITERALLY AZUL

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

OUGOSHGHSODGHSUGUDSOHGODSGHOSDGDSGOSDHGISDOSDNGDGDSNGNSDOIGNIONAONGNAONSGIOSOGA

ok and can i just

scream about his story

BECAUSE. GOD FUCK THAT STORY LEFT ME DEAD.

loike like AZUL TALKED ABOUT HIS GRANDMA?????

THE SECOND BDAY STORY IN A ROW THAT HE TALKS ABOUT HOW HIS GRANDMA RAISED HIM AND AND HOW SHE'S BEEN SUCH A BIG INFLUENCE IN HIS LIFE

he's a grandma's boy ouhghfohfgf he loves his grandma sm he respects her and cherishes her goddddddddd

i love how he's aware that true compassion comes from not just spoiling someone but also disciplining them and whatnot

it adds to the balanced theme that he has going on

i also just rly love in general that azul loves and respects the maternal figures in his life not only because it makes him more respectable but also because it ties in with the feminism theme that you find in the little mermaid (whether animated or live action)

then then THE WHOLE LIKE,,, PART WHERE AZUL TELLS JAMIL THAT HE WAS SO SURPRISED AT ALL THE NEW SCENTS ON LAND THAT HE WAS SNIFFING AROUND LITERALLY

i first saw that part in an out of context screenshot, where jamil's like "lol haha you were just sniffing around everywhere omg" and i was like HUH?????

@/doom on twt also pointed out that it might be why Azul's into colognes and i think i shuold just be defenestrated at this point from how insane i've been goign

THE BARBEQUE PART THO

IT'S SO CUTE

AZUL, FLOYD, AND JADE DOING A BARBECUE....... WHEN THEY BARELY KNEW ABOUT LAND CULTURE AND PHYSICS................

AND THEY BURNT EVERYTHING LMAOOOO AND THE TWEELS BLEW SMOKE INTO HIS FACE THAT WAS JUST SO CUTE HONESTLY

jamil's like wow that sounds funny haha and honestly same jamil same

AND THEN THE PART WHERE THEY TALK ABOUT THE PR FOR NRC

god typical azul for doing it so that he can boost himself before graduatign

but i also got a lil emotional on that part not gonna lie bc he's Still grabbing opportunities to achieve his goals and he's working hard for them and god honestly that's one of the main reasons why i fell for him and i still love him for it

i also like

fucking died over his voiced line s

wtf

wtf are those lines

azul actually talking about love and crushes in his groovy....... but it's just him saying it's great cause he can exploit it lmaoooo

babe you're gonna be a disaster when you actually like someone i know it

jamil's already bordering on it, but if you actually end up liking Liking someone it's so over

personally what really fucking sent me though was Azul going "I take art as one of my courses so I can explain to you any painting you're interested in" LIKE

CMON.

CMONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

lore on NRC courses???

but also the way that's phrased sounds like art is an elective you can opt to take ? ?

and he CHOSE to take art? //? /

hELL O

AHAHFAHSHFOIAHSIOFHIOASHFIAS THE ARTIST IN ME IS GOING AWAOHOAHGOAH

ofc Azul looks at art in a business sense, but i love that he's so wiling to branch out and rly appreciate it

cause how many ppl out there put down art :')) employers in particular are really iffy about this

Azul's also designed mostro lounge so you know he has his own style

also wtf Azul, you have your tentacles in business, in science and maths (science would be chemistry ish because of alchemy and arithmetic is Literally listed as his talent), and now in the arts

just.

just

man

happy birthday ashengrotto. take my tears and my insanity for now until i can writey ou smth better

[rallamajoop]

Some statistics on Lucy and the odds of surviving (non-vampiric) blood transfusions

Because it’s Dracula-season again, and because I am absolutely that kind of nerd, I spent some time calculating the actual odds of Lucy surviving all those blood transfusions from unrelated donors. To summarise what I found up front: Lucy's odds aren't great, but they're still a lot higher than you might think.

Now, I’m not the first person ever to tackle this question, and having no medical qualifications whatsoever, I'm not the best person either. But figuring out the answer to my own satisfaction was a great excuse to learn a whole lot of fascinating stuff that took some digging to figure out, so (with the caveat that I am entirely open to corrections from real professionals) naturally now I want to share it.

The complete world history of attempted blood transfusions is way beyond scope for us here (you can find plenty of sources on it online if you’re curious). But as Stoker’s text aptly demonstrates, the science of blood transfusion had come a long way by the Victorian era – just not the means for doctors to reliably predict which transfusions would be successful, and which would simply kill the patient. The principle behind the basic A, B and O blood types wouldn’t be discovered until 1900 – 4 years after Dracula was published, and wouldn't become part of general medical practice for much longer – and the additional Rh-factors wouldn’t be discovered until 1939. In Stoker's day, doctors were still so far behind the ball some of them thought transfusing milk into people suffering blood loss was a good idea (yes, really). And though I'm focusing on blood groups here, it goes without saying there are plenty of other risks that come from letting any Victorian-era doctor open your veins.

That said, what the average person knows about how blood types work may not be all that much advanced today from what doctors knew in the 1890s. It’s easy to come out of Dracula thinking, “Wow, they gave Lucy blood from four different people? The odds all their blood types would matched hers must be minuscule!” (and a quick search of the web for this topic will find people asking exactly that). But there are several factors which make Lucy’s chances a whole lot better than they might look on paper.

(Image source)

For one thing, even though there are many different blood groups to worry about, some are much more common than others. If just one blood group accounts for half the population (which is actually true of some countries), then Lucy’s odds of hitting four donors with the same group just by chance would go way up.

But far more important is the fact that blood groups don’t have to be a 'match' to be compatible. If Lucy is one of the 2% of the British population with the blood group AB+, she’d be a universal recipient – theoretically capable of receiving blood from anyone without adverse reactions. Similarly, if any of her donors were O-, she’s in luck again, because that makes them a universal donor. If Lucy herself is O-, however, she’s in trouble: universal donors can donate to any other group, but they can only receive from other O-negs.

Confused? Time to get a bit more technical.

When receiving blood, your greatest enemy is your own immune system. Vital as all those immune cells are, they are not smart, and have no way of knowing that all this foreign blood suddenly flooding your system is friendly. If the don’t recognise those blood cells, they’ll attack them, bonding to their surface and causing cells to clump together and form clots which can clog up your arteries and kill you. Transfusing the wrong blood type can and likely will kill you.

The immune system identifies blood cells as intruders via specific antigens found on the cell’s surface. The most important antigens in blood matching systems are the A and B antigens, and secondarily the Rhesus antigens (marked + or -). Some people have all of these antigens (AB+), some have none (O- with the ‘O’ more literally indicating a ‘0’ or a null) and many have some but not all (A+, B-, O+, etc). Meanwhile, the immune system of the recipient body, much like your racist uncle, will attack most anything with distinguishing features it hasn't seen before (like I said, it’s not smart). A blood cell which is missing a familiar antigen will slip through, but a blood cell sporting an unfamiliar antigen will trigger a reaction. So the immune system of someone with B-type blood will have issues with any A-type blood you try and transfuse in, but will be just fine with B or O, since O lacks any antigens to mark it as an intruder.

Once you know what you’re looking for, A, B, AB and O type blood can be identified fairly easily, just by mixing blood or antibodies and watching the reaction. I’ve seen some suggestions that this may have been understood even to some of the better-informed doctors in Victorian times: when unsure if a transfusion would be safe, they could try transfusing just a small amount of blood, watch for a bad reaction, and continue only if things look good. If you absolutely have to do a blood transfusion without any testing though, an immediate family member is your best bet: blood types can still differ among a family, but there’s a strong genetic component. (Sadly, this wouldn’t have been an option for Lucy, as her mother was already unwell, and would not have been considered a good transfusion candidate.)

Things get more complicated when you add in the Rhesus factor, which wasn’t discovered until some decades later, and for good reason: bad reactions to Rh+ blood develop in Rh- people only after that first transfusion. While A and B types might be like your racist uncle, the Rh factor is more like putting a dog on your basketball team: you’ll get away with it once, because you’ve brought in something so unexpected no-one’s made a rule about it yet (let alone bothered to come up with anti-dog basketball tactics). Unlike the standard A and B antigens, the immune system has to have 1) seen Rh+ blood, and 2) spent some time thinking about a good plan of attack before it’s ready to do anything about it – by which point the donor blood should be out of your system anyway. It's only the next transfusion after that where you can hit problems.

In practice, the Rh factor is of most concern to Rh- mothers carrying Rh+ babies. The first baby should be fine, but the delivery process can result in some mixing of the mother and baby's blood ‒ and that can leave her immune system primed to take offense at any future passengers of the Rh+ persuasion (why this apparently doesn’t also apply to A and B type babies in A or B negative mothers I’m not sure, but obviously the Rh-immune response works differently). With all today’s modern medical technology, this is something doctors can identify in expectant parents and manage with medication, but obviously they're still going to want to avoid transfusing Rh+ blood into an Rh- patient (especially if they’ve already got Rh+ kids).

Regardless, for our purposes, it’s only from the second transfusion that the Rh factor could trip you up. So could that be an issue for Lucy, if she’s getting so many transfusions? It's harder to find good info on exactly how long the Rh immune reaction takes to develop after the first transfusion, but most of what I could find suggests we’re looking at a period of weeks to months at least. So that’s good news for Lucy: we can ignore Rh factors when we’re calculating her odds of survival.

As a minor aside here, the standard eight blood types you can get by combining A, B and the Rhesus factor aren’t technically the only blood types out there. These three antigens matter most because people both with and without them are common in the broader human population, but a small minority of people are missing other antigens that the rest of us get as standard. European blood banks apparently also classify blood by a Kell factor, and people with anaemia and other conditions likely to require regular transfusions may be checked for several other potential Rh-like issues. A handful of people worldwide have blood classified as neither Rh+ or Rh-, but Rh-null – missing antigens common to 99.9% of the human population, and being in that class is a very mixed blessing. Blood donations from someone Rh-null can be used in recipients with rare blood types that would make them incompatible with almost any other donor. But if someone Rh-null ever needs a blood donation themselves, they’re in big trouble.

So, enough theory. What’s all this mean for Lucy’s odds of making it through 4 blood transfusions from unrelated donors?

Unsurprisingly, ratios of different blood groups vary a lot country to country and population to population, so I looked up ratios in modern Britain (Van Helsing is Dutch, of course, but blood groups in the Netherlands are similar enough to those in the UK that we’ll ignore that, just for simplicity). It’s possible these ratios have drifted since Victorian times, but figuring out how is so far beyond scope here we’re not going to worry about it. As discussed above, we’ll also ignore Rh factors – Lucy’s almost certainly never had a blood transfusion or a baby before, and everything happens far too fast for an Rh-immune response to kick in.

Alright. It’s statistics time!

We don't know Lucy's blood group, so any are possible. For each potential Lucy-blood-group, we can generate a list of blood groups which will be compatible donors (we'll call that list C(x)), and from that, we can calculate the probability that she'll be compatible with any randomly-selected donor. For Lucy to survive, we need her to survive 4 successive blood transfusions, so we’re raising that survival probability to the power of 4. Then to calculate her overall probability of survival, we multiply the survival rate by the odds she’s in that blood group, and add them together (no need to divide by the total population, that’s an easy 100%). So if we let n = number of transfusions and P(x) = probability a person is in blood group x, we get the following lovely equation:

(Yes, I know, I'm sorry ‒ someone out there is going to want to check my working, and I like to be transparent.)

And with that, (assuming I’m not just talking out of my arse with all those calculations), that suggests Lucy’s overall chances of surviving 4 different blood transfusions is about: (drum roll)... 27%. So, roughly 1 in 4.

The really savvy reader might notice that Lucy does not, technically, survive all four transfusions – she dies shortly after the fourth, so it’s conceivable that last transfusion was a mismatch. If we take the requirements down to where Lucy only needs to survive 3 transfusions, her odds go up to 34%, or closer to 1 in 3. Still not great, but given the sorts of crazy one-in-a-million coincidences all fiction is built on, that’s actually pretty reasonable. Even if you do factor in Rh compatibilities, we're still looking at around 21% survival rate after 4 transfusions, which are pretty decent odds in the world of Victorian medicine.

Do those odds sound a little high to you? Here’s something to keep in mind. On paper, Lucy’s odds of surviving even a single random-donor transfusion are only 65%. But given she survived that first transfusion, the odds go up that she’s in one of those near-universal blood groups, and they keep going up. Sure, every new transfusion has a new chance to kill you, but statistically speaking, every transfusion you survive marks you as someone who’s a little more likely to survive the next. So someone who's already survived 2 transfusions has a 76% chance of surviving a 3rd ‒ and if they do survive that 3rd, an 80% chance of surviving a 4th.

As another aside though, even after surviving four successive transfusions, the odds Lucy’s in that lucky AB universal-recipient category are still only about 10% (compared to 3% of the base population). Statistically, it’s still far more likely she’s in the A-group ‒ the second largest group in the UK, and who can receive blood from the other largest group (O), letting them receive blood from a whooping 86% of the population without issue. Aren’t statistics wonderful?

Oh, all right – I’ll stop with the maths. We’ve made our point here.

Now, we could still point out that, for a supposedly-experienced physician, Stoker's Van Helsing seems pretty blase about the possibility his blood transfusions could backfire horribly ‒ but then, Lucy's already on death's door each time he resorts to asking for volunteers. He's doing the only thing that might save her life (and it does, until it doesn't).

To conclude, no-one is going to tell you Dracula makes sense. This is a book which offers no explanation for why Dracula should just happen land in England on the same town where his solicitor’s fiancée just is taking a holiday, let alone the rest of it. And Stoker had no way of knowing Lucy’s actual odds of surviving such a very Victorian procedure. But that whole blood transfusion sequence is far from being the least probable thing in the book. 

[maggplays]

Thank you so much for all your hard work on your Immersive mods, they're a joy to play! You've inspired me to give modding a try, and I've got like a billion questions, but just off the top of my head: 1. What came first for you, the dialogue or the cut scenes? (And how did you learn how to do the cutscenes omg they're perfect) 2. What made you decide to involve other characters in your Sam/Sebastian mod? 3. What other tools do you use to see your additions in action? Is there a command you run to play your cutscenes or to manipulate the time of day to test something? Thank you in advance :)

Wow, you're going to make me think for a second, haha! This is a long answer so keep reading...

I start with the basic heart level daily dialogue first, then move on to dated dialogue. If I think of an event I want along the way, I will just hop over to the events and write that, then go back to dialogue. It's easier for me to keep it consistent if I go back and forth. I do have a basic overall story in mind before I start so I can generally plan events along a heart-level timeline.

I added the characters that are involved in my main character's life the most, family and close friends. Then in Seb I added some stuff for Alex just because I wanted to have a mini story with him. So it's just whichever characters seem to want to be in your story or dialogue. If I were to write one for Abigail, Sam and Seb would be in it along with her parents. Leah and Elliott don't have a lot of town connections, so other characters would be less involved or more at a surface level unless I wanted to add a story/connection for them. Elliott would have something with Willy and possibly Seb. Leah has virtually nothing in vanilla so would have to be all new.

Coding events... that is a real challenge to learn, the online resources are kind of there but limited. I pieced it together from looking at code on other mods, the Stardew modding wiki (articles on event modding and creating i18n files), and the Content Patcher GitHub instructions. I really don't recommend using my mod as a beginner reference, it's huge and full of stuff you probably don't need. I'd use a somewhat simpler one that's updated for 1.6 like Immersive Characters - Shane. The structure is similar, but my mods use a lot of dynamic tokens and conditional code that I added along the way making it much more advanced. Join the Stardew Valley discord, they have a modding help section and they are super quick to answer questions.

I also make custom sprites for events, I don't really advise doing this unless you're prepared for some extra headaches. Players DO NOT like when you mess with their sprite mods and you'll end up either ignoring a lot of complaints or making patches for Seasonal Outfits mod in particular.

To test your events, code it all up the best you can, then run debug ebi eventID in the SMAPI console. This plays your event immediately. There are some twitchy things about this involving conditions you'll learn along the way. You also need CJB Cheats Menu mod, this allows you to skip time, change friendship levels, change weather, all kinds of stuff you need for testing dialogue without actually playing the game. Bottom line, it's really trial and error. And running debug ebi like a million times on each event as you watch your characters literally walk off screen, turn the wrong way, farmer's hair pops off, so many bloopers!

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

22: The Baby of All Time

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You love Papyrus. There’s something so special about him. Your special little man. Ignore the fact that he’s not, in fact, little because that hardly matters when it counts. Much to your delight, Papyrus had told you the next morning that you two were going to hang out together. He had a few things planned for you and was eager to see your excitement about his hi-jinks and japes.

As a matter of fact, he even escorted you to the beginning of Snowdin where his first puzzle was.

Yeah, it was pretty obvious he mainly just wanted to show off the puzzles. But hey! Killing two birds with one stone, you’re not about to complain!

There was that little hiccup at the bridge since you didn’t miraculously get over your fear of heights just like that. That was fine with him, Papyrus simply picked you up like the Giga Chad he is while covering your eyes. Next thing you knew, you were already on the other side. Papyrus may have forgotten to put you down for 10 minutes, but it was cozy.

Dang, a bitch really needed a cuddle.

Much to your surprise (and slight disappointment and relief), Papyrus wouldn’t make you do the Invisible Electricity Maze. It’s for “bad humans who need to get pranked” and you don’t fall in that category! Aww, how sweet of him! Still, you guys went that far back anyway because he needed you to see everything that contained special memories to him (aka anything that has the slightest Papyrus involvement).

“AND THIS IS ONE OF MY MANY PERFECTED TRAPS!!” Papyrus shows off the cardboard box with the frozen spaghetti, “GRANTED, I’VE NEVER HAD THE CHANCE TO PUT IT TO PROPER USE, BUT WHEN A MEAN HUMAN FALLS DOWN, I’M SURE THEY’LL FALL FOR MY DIABOLICAL SCHEME!”

You’re looking at him with love and admiration as he talks, nodding along eagerly at the right intervals so he knows you’re listening. He’s just so precious, so willing to tell you all about his hi-jinks and gags.

“I mean, shit, this would probably work on me if you didn’t save me the trouble by explaining it,” You grin, “It’s great, Papyrus!”

“NYEH HEH HEH HEH! LUCKILY FOR YOU, YOU’RE A GOOD HUMAN SO YOU NEEDN’T WORRY ABOUT FALLING FOR ANY OF MY PRANKS–ERM, I MEAN MY TRAPS!!”

Papyrus gestures for you to follow him past the trap and to continue onward. Doggo, to your surprise, wasn’t here when you two first passed by his doghouse. You assume he’s either on petrol somewhere else or even at Grillby’s as shown in the game. You didn’t particularly mind it since you’re perfectly happy having quality time with only Papyrus. His appearance, unfortunately, still freaks you out but you’re slowly but surely getting over it. Rather, you’re getting used to it.

There’s something about seeing a walking skeleton that freaks out your brain like: “Hey, skeletons are not supposed to be outside of a body!!”

…You’re sure this will leave no mental side effects.

“SPEAKING OF, I AM WONDERING…” PAPYRUS LOOKED A LITTLE NERVOUS, “WHAT WAS YOUR LIFE LIKE? O-ON THE SURFACE, I MEAN.”

You blink, “Oh. Uh, I mean, it’s not really interesting, I think. Hm… Well, I was going to school to become a doctor, so I spent a lot of my time just doing that.”

“A DOCTOR, HM? I THINK I’VE READ BEFORE THAT HUMANS HAVE DOCTORS FOR ALL KINDS OF THINGS.”

“Yeah, it’s true! There’s gotta be more than 100 types of doctors all over the world. Me personally…” Uh, well, he’s a grown-ass man, he can know what it is you want to do. “I wanted to be a General Surgeon. Like, someone who operates on other people to see what’s wrong from the inside.”

“W… WOW… THAT SOUNDS… REALLY RISKY…”

“Ha-ha, it is! But that’s why I had to go to school for it. Actually, I’ll be in school learning about it for a long time. So when the time comes for me to operate on someone, I’ll be able to save their life instead of hurting them more.” You smile, “But I’m pretty good at medical assessments–on humans, at least.”

“SO, YOU’RE NICE AND YOU’RE A SMART COOKIE! LOOK AT YOU, THE WHOLE PACKAGE!” Papyrus pats you (accidentally) rough on the back, “YOU MUST’VE HAD A LOT OF FRIENDS WITH THAT COOL PERSONALITY OF YOURS, HUH?”

You hiss quietly, “Ooh, if only. I was pretty much a loner. I had one best friend and that’s it.”

“WH-WHAT?! REALLY?!” Papyrus stops you and puts his hands on your shoulders, shaking you lightly, “BUT–BUT YOU’RE SO COOL! HOW COULD YOU NOT BE POPULAR?!”

You just shrugged with a grin, “I dunno. I kept to myself, I never went out of my way to make a lot of friends either. It’s not like they want to get to know me anyway, so why should I force it?”

You don’t want to explain to the poor baby that you were a shit person in your teenage years, and after losing Kōrenki you lost a lot of interest in building bonds with other people for a while. Actually, you’re not sure you want to bring Kōrenki up at all with the tall monster. Not that you don’t trust him with that information, but you don’t want to put him in distress about your sad life.

“But, Elliot, my best friend, he saw me for who I really was. He took the time to get to know me, to see the worst parts of me and still accept me, and…” You smile fondly at his memory, “Even though I didn’t have other friends, that genuine bond with him made up for that, you know? And maybe that makes it all worth it.”

Papyrus looks like he’s genuinely thinking and considering your words. You two walk in comfortable silence for a moment, going past the invisible Electricity Maze since he already said it wasn’t activated for you to do.

Finally, as you reach the “Ball” game, Papyrus speaks up.

“YOU KNOW… SANS TELLS ME ALL THE TIME THAT I’M THE COOLEST, AND ONE DAY EVERYONE IN THE UNDERGROUND WILL REALIZE THAT AND WILL WANT TO BE MY FRIEND. BUT… MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE I DON’T NEED ALL THE PRAISE AND GLORY FROM OTHER PEOPLE WHO DON’T EVEN KNOW ME. FROM PEOPLE WHO DON’T WANT TO KNOW ME,” The skeleton nods with a wholesome smile, “IN FACT, I HAVE A BEST FRIEND TOO, AND SHE ACCEPTS ME JUST FOR WHO I AM!”

You think he’s talking about Undyne, but you need to ask anyway. “Really? Who is it?”

“UNDYNE, THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD!!” He poses heroically, cape flowing in the air despite there being ZERO wind right now, “WHY, I KNOW THAT AT THE END OF THE DAY, SHE THINKS VERY HIGH OF ME! SHE’S THE ONE GIVING ME COOKING LESSONS!!”

Oh, you sweet baby. You’re still not ready to tell him how shit his spaghetti is, so you’re just going to subtly dodge that last part.

“Awe, Undyne sounds great! I remember Sans mentioning that she’s an authoritative figure, so I was pretty curious about her. I also know she won’t be my biggest fan,” You chuckle a bit, “But anyway, how ‘bout you tell me more about you and your bro? I wanna get to know you too, Papyrus.”

“GLADLY, MY GOOD LADY!”

As you’re trying to solve the Ball game by yourself, Papyrus takes this time to tell you about Sans and himself. A little bit of their past, some embarrassing moments between them, and cool lore in general that you would’ve never learned in the game. It’s so great you’re able to learn about them, and not be kept in the dark!

“THOUGH, REALLY… IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT SANS, IT’S BEST YOU ASK HIM. YOU TWO GET ALONG VERY WELL, AND I’M SURE HE’D BE WILLING TO SHARE IT WITH YOU.” Papyrus grins, “I REALLY APPRECIATE YOU DRAGGING HIM OUT OF THE HOUSE, TOO.”

“Pfft, then I’ll do it more often,” And that is a promise you’ll be willing to keep for your special little man. “Though, I do have one more question if you don’t mind.”

“WHAT IS IT?”

This is the best chance you’ll have. It’s been a week since that Gaster dream you had, and you spent this whole time thinking of ways you can bring it up to either brother without it seeming suspicious. This might be a little random, but you hope Papyrus will not notice.

“I noticed a lot that there are a lot of monsters that look similar to each other, even if they’re not related. I’m guessing it’s kind of like humans where some of us can look very similar to each other, but are completely unrelated. So, I mean, are there other skeleton monsters like you and Sans?”

Papyrus squints into the distance (somehow), rubbing his chin with his gloved hand. “NYEHH… NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT, THERE IS–ER, WAS SOMEONE. I THINK. HE WAS LIKE A… A DAD? BUT… HM,” He shrugs, seemingly not bothered, “HE’S NOT AROUND ANYMORE. BUT IT’S NOT LIKE I KNEW HIM VERY WELL, SO IT’S ALRIGHT WITH ME.”

Wow, very straight to the point. You pout at the snowball that melted for the 3rd time, causing you to go back to the beginning.

“Do you remember his name? I imagine it’s also a font like you and Sans, right?”

“YEAH, I THINK SO. SOMETHING WITH A ‘G’ OR WHATEVER,” Papyrus remains as your unbothered king because bro fucking rolls his eyes, “SANS PROBABLY REMEMBERS, YOU CAN ASK HIM LATER.”

HE IS LITERALLY OPENING THE DOOR OF OPPORTUNITY FOR YOU!! YOU LOVE THIS MAN!!

“Yeah, sure-”

“-BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT GUY, LET’S TALK MORE ABOUT ME!”

Ohh, that’s why he didn’t care for talking about his peepaw. You respect the hustle. With an eager response, you let Papyrus keep telling you about his battle body and its significance of it.

This is really great, though! You’ll pull Sans aside later to talk about your dream tonight. You just… As much as you hate it, you’re still scared of Sans and what he can do to you if you say or do something he doesn’t like. Or what if he plays dumb and you’re left to deal with this on your own? You’re not sure if you want to talk about it with Papyrus, but if worse comes to worse… Who knows, you might need to.

For now, though, you’ll put this in the back of your mind and focus on Papyrus.

The tall skeleton puts his hands on his hips, “WOW, YOU REALLY SUCK AT THIS GAME!”

“Hey! I’d like to see you try it, buddy!”

“WHA–I UH, YOU KNOW, I REALLY WANT TO SEE YOU DO THIS…!”

“Oh, really!?”

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

[happilylovingchaos]

Music and Fic Monday for @lonestar-s5countdown

Sorry I’m late-ish! I’ll give a combination of recommendations for music and fanfics today (which is almost over where I am). And wow, there’s a lot involving TK (I’m getting concerned about how much he and Carlos get whumped, I don’t really care if it’s just me 😰).

([Re-])Surfacing Dive for Beginnings and Ends:

Beyond a lot of the stories written by @carlos-in-glasses, @paperstorm and @lemonlyman-dotcom that I think are also beautiful character studies of the Lone Star characters may not get explored enough (and in some cases even exploring parts of the characters that get most focus in-show), I wanted to give a few shout-outs to other, older one-shots/ full-length stories.

Lonely eyes, you don’t have to be alone tonight by @wwasted: A coda that takes place in between the bar scene and the end of 1x03. It’s very cute w/o dragging out too much of either man’s angst, which I liked.

The elephant in the juice bar by @taralaurel: Where Tarlos begins for real after 1x10, and TK tries and fails to keep a metaphor steady as he decides to take a chance.

Getting better by @lonestarbabe, Pigeonsplotinsecrecy: This fic really plays with the meaning of the words “begin” and “end”, especially with a mental health recovery arc and especially with TK. It’s not for everyone, but it describes how relatable, tedious, solitary and multicolored the process can be.

Rosa mundi by fiddlersgreen: A one-shot where TK, Owen, and Carlos make it to New York without incident and properly mourn for Gwyn… and it’s quite a spiritual experience.

You were the greatest thing by hoodieweather: TK is mournful after the events of season 2 as he goes to visit Gwyn and Jonah, but re-learns something important about life. Takes place in the breakup era. Before the ice storm? Actually def before the ice storm.

First aid by @heartstringsduet: I like to call this the gritty version of “Tarlos Begins”, only both characters have more fragile coping methods of surviving life in New York City. When those methods gradually fall apart and threaten to completely implode their lives, they have to face their respective truths and learn how to live— both with the people around them, the real versions of each other, and with themselves.

Not really bridal style by paperyowl: Tarlos begins again immediately post-3x04— with some relationship negotiating required. The author really nailed Tarlos’ voices for their first fic in the 9-1-1: LS fandom!

Haunted by the ghost of you by @strandnreyes: A sad and hopeful combination of 3x04 and 3x08, where Tarlos begins again with an unexpected end.

I’m not mean enough to fully recommend hurt no comfort Tarlos fics, or hurt no comfort fics in general (and I’m still less than a year into using Tumblr anyway), so for a definitive “end” fic in that category, I may direct you to MissPudim’s works where the issues with the whole Iris arc is addressed and Tarlos handles it Extremely Badly. Or this fic called Gone where… it’s… okay, hell. They still handle it bad, it’s still kind of an end and it’s a bittersweet end, albeit in an AU. And another one by bythebry, Ain’t got no tears left to cry.

Where all this love comes from by @carlos-in-glasses: I think I’m not the first one to recommend this story but I think it counts as a general “begins” for both TK and Carlos (mainly for Carlos, though). And I’m listening to Postmodern Jukebox while trying to re-recommend it… if you’re curious, I put one of their cover songs on the bottom of this post. Needless to say, I loved this fic!

TK (Begins):

Jewish for Himself by 7ate9: I felt a sense of completion to read a fic that goes into TK’s POV about how the religion Gwyn wanted to raise him under is, in a word, complicated (as hell). Yes, just as much as his career and gay identity. For that, I’m thankful to the author! (And not just because so many opportunities for TK’s Jewish rep was wasted…)

TK begins by writedontfight: Exactly what the title says, with a plausible and saddeningly real scar of loss in TK’s life.

Numb and Thirty days by come2gusu: TK begins again, and good GOD I’M SAD ABOUT 3x08 AGAIN nooOOOOOooO….

Carlos (Begins):

Duality of a day by @marjansmarwani: I loved this exploration of how double-edged the wedding day would feel for Carlos— the beginning of a new chapter in his life with TK, and the punch-to-the-face end of Gabriel’s own life (spoiler alert).

to build a home by @freneticfloetry: This story was the first “Carlos Begins” story I’d read. I thought I wouldn’t like the canon divergence that happens at the end, but I was pleasantly surprised!

Dancing, happy, seen by @endlesstwanted: Carlos’ POV as he falls in love at first sight with TK.

Silver lining’s gold and shining by @paperstorm: “Carlos begins”, with a little help from Iris. For me, it also parallels “Chimney Begins”.

I fell for you like a child (oh but the fire went wild) by ellay_gee: Told in a 5+1 format about Carlos’ experiences with love. It was so cute!

Tender eyes that shine by @alrightbuckaroo: Much like “to build a home”, this fic exuded “Carlos begins” energy with more focus on how the Reyes’ “identity” shaped Carlos, and him focusing on unlearning the emotional repression that comes with that ideal.

Music Recs for @tellmegoodbye:

If the Lone Star music team uses this cover of AC/DC my country-music side would be tickled. Just thought that a down-South version of a rock song would be a cool bookend to the pop collab “Old Town Road.”

Postmodern Jukebox is one of my favorite cover bands, and they’ve made a lot of songs I’ve heard of really appealing for me— retro takes on pop songs! This one cover of Oasis’ songs brought to mind another procedural spinoff, NCIS: New Orleans, for the jazz funeral feel added to apparently hotly-debated interpretations of the lyrics (I only just looked on Reddit, so…). But considering what’s happening, hearing the song in the context of Lone Star breaks and warms my heart.

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Working out how Astarion’s act 2 confession goes in my head. I always pick the non-araj confession, the one that’s locked behind killing Yurgir now. I really like that he’s beside himself with guilt enough to approach Tav about this, and I prefer how he confesses his sexual insecurities. Also just the fact we even get two different act 2 confession scenes is crazy to me.

Under a cut for length:

Morgan didn’t really know what a vampire was when she met Astarion because of her sheltered cult upbringing. Her only reference was vampire erotica she likely read at some point after she got out, which definitely glossed over the horrifying monstrous aspects of vampirism in favor of the sexy ones.

Their early sexual encounters were fun and satisfying but she wasn’t overly impressed. It was very standard romance novel level sex with little of his own personality. But he was attentive and thorough and technically very proficient and she liked that. She gave him a lot of leeway for being so hot…he has pretty privilege for sure. She writes him off as a fuckboy, brats it up in bed to poke him for reactions because it’s funny to her. He shows his personality more when he gets pissed off and when he gets blood and that gets her attention. It impresses her, to see him acting selfishly in bed when she is able to goad him into doing so.

She’s blindsided when he confronts her. She is someone who generally knows what’s going on with most people she interacts with; gentle prodding with detect thoughts to test their mental defenses, then peeking into their surface thoughts and intentions. She’s extremely good at doing this undetected to all but those experienced in mental magic. With Astarion she can’t do that, not without brute forcing her way into his head with the tadpole, anyway. But detect thoughts doesn’t work on undead, and she didn’t think it mattered because she thought she had him figured out; he wanted sex and her blood. Easy.

She totally fell for his seductions if not his cheesy performance and was only just starting to put together that wow…he was actually a bit more fucked up by what happened to him than she realized at first. This his slavery wasn’t hyperbole and he hadn’t living an existence that allowed him to reap any benefits from his condition. That his slavery included mental, physical and sexual torture that lasted longer than her human perspective can really comprehend.

It’s very hard for her to deal with at first. The revelation leaves her feeling humiliated, panicked (how could she have read things so wrong?), anger at herself and at him for making her feel like a fool. Shame, for teasing him as a poncy fuckboy with a blood fetish.

However she is emotionally mature enough to handle those reactions appropriately and recognize the severity of him revealing this to her face and it forces her to examine her own feelings and motivations. Him admitting he wanted their fake relationship to be real, that she deserved something real, was a gut punch.

They have some similarities in that they were both controlled in their own ways by powerful men with delusions of godhood and dealing with having their own autonomy for the first time, she’s just much further along in her healing. She’s had ten years to adjust and also the benefit of therapy (the cleric that rescued her started a counseling service for adventurers in Baldur’s Gate ☺️)

She feels bad that their relationship up until this point was the best relationship he’d ever had. His only one! She wants to be nicer and be better to him. They stumble over boundaries a bit until they get it settled by act 3 when they are firmly in their ride or die phase for each other.

[tr1ck5]

I wasn't originally planning on writing any of this, but I've read so many wonderful and deeply personal love letters to FFVIII yesterday and today for its 25th anniversary that it kind of emboldened me to.

So here goes I guess, kind of somewhat personal wall of text about a ps1 game, under the cut. You've been warned!

Okay now I don't know how to start. You could say FFVIII came into my life at exactly the right time for me to absolutely imprint on it.

I remember playing the demo that came with a bunch of other demos from a PSN magazine; I'd watched my older brother play a lot of FFVII beforehand and I was enchanted by the story, graphics and characters, the music... Even though my understanding of english at the time was next to mediocre so I relied on him to explain things a lot. I was like... 8 or 9 then so loads of subjects and plot points went completely over my head but it didn't matter at all to me (It was kind of hilarious when I replayed it when I was older because I was like damn, this story is a LOT more convoluted/complicated than I remember wth??? Lmao)

When VIII finally released and I watched my brother play, I was now 10/11 and sometimes he'd play without me so I missed a lot of stuff (and it's rather funny because I remember looking at Squall and co at first and being like whoa, those adults have got their shit together so much and wow how I ever could have looked at Squall and thought that, is beyond me lmao) but when he was done with it I picked it up and played. And sucked. But it stayed with me through my teenage years, never too far.

I was then a lot more fluent in english and literature in general so it pretty much was my first real big 'story-driven' video game ever. I was so damn invested, and, perhaps most of all, I saw myself in Squall so damn much it was borderline uncanny. I think it's so comforting (or alarming depending on how you want to look at it lol) that that seems to be a common thing for all of us die-hard fans. We just 'get it', don't we?

I've... always been a 'weird' kid. That kid other kids somehow know to stay away from, because something is 'off' with them, before they learn how to mock and bully. And I was aware of my 'otherness' as much as them, for as long as I can remember. I never quite fit in, anywhere, no matter how hard I tried. I didn't have a lot of friends, and the very few I had I always kept at arms' length for self-preservation reasons. If I was never vulnerable, if they knew nothing deeper than surface-level stuff about me, they could never hurt me. And this way I wouldn't get too attached, so when they left it wouldn't hurt. Sound familiar?

Admittedly it's safe to assume that I had a somewhat fucked-up childhood (I mean, I wasn't an orphan forced to become a child soldier but still lol) as these behaviours didn't appear out of nowhere, and Squall's inner monologues and way of seeing things just resonated so much with me, I couldn't believe this guy was the hero that saved the day, despite all his traumas and anxiety... But he was. And he did. And his friends cared for him despite it all. And someone fell in love with him, flaws and all. He realized his way of life wasn't sustainable forever and he just... changed. But he wasn't unlovable. He wasn't irredeemable and broken! I cried so much the first time I finished that game. It felt so fucking unfair, I felt like I'd grown and matured right alongside Squall but as the credits rolled and the tv screen turned black I was met with my reflection; alone, in my room. Where were my friends, where was my Rinoa?

I'm an extremely private person. Sharing deep things about myself is extremely difficult for me and twice now I've come this close to erasing the entirety of this post. I have to fight the voice in my head that says this is irrelevant and useless at best, and dangerous to divulge so much personal info at worst. When I talk about personal things, even to the people closest to me, I start shaking and I feel nauseous and cold all over. Even today, right now as I'm typing this!

But this damn video game made me realize that I would never be happy and at peace if I was never honest and vulnerable. Because when you spend years around someone and know loads of things about them yet they know nothing about you, you're not a friend; you're an acquaintance. To love is to give a person the means to hurt you and trust them not to. You have to take that leap.

I eventually found my friends, and my Rinoa; I'm still having trouble trusting and opening up and relying on others but it got better, and it gets better still, and it's in part because of that. one. video game. Ain't that just crazy? A little bit, probably. Who cares.

I feel this wall of text of a post is all over the place and probably TMI but wow good on you for reading through it all lmao. Am I gonna regret posting this in the morning? Most definitely. But hopefully I have the strenght to leave it up. Hopefully someone somewhere can also relate, like I've related so much to all of your posts on this game! Ultimately I am deeply grateful and amazed by this community, we're the black sheeps, the underdogs, the often ill-understood... But I wouldn't want it any other way.

Happy 25th anniversary, Final Fantasy VIII.

[neonscandal]

So excited to know that you also love Link Click...! I watched it first before JJK (I know, still kinda new in thw fandom), so Cheng Xiaoshi/ Lu Guang are special to me. And after 2nd season with that finale, wow, for me it feels like came out of a fanfic. So when I got to know Gojo/ Geto somehow they remind me of Cheng Xiaoshi/ Lu Guang, cause both couples are doomed by the narative....

And what do you think after you finished TGCF? Have you read the novels? Just so you know, it is worth it to collect the books. Their story is that good. Also when you finished it, most likely you'll also have some non-canon fav couples (I have 4 non canon fav couples from TGCF)....And have you watch MDZS or SVSSS?

Sorry for my rambling, MXTX is one of my favorite author ever and I like to talk about their works. (And now I'm still depressed with the latest JJK update and nervous with the BNHA update)......

OMG SEASON TWO FINALE OF LINK CLICK ABSOLUTELY SLAYED ME. Lu Guang, the enigma that you are. This whole time!? What a damn reveal! Just thinking about it, tbh, I'm gagged. I like to guess at things, obviously, but just never even fathomed.

I don't know if I'd mentioned that before RE: Gojo and Geto but same. It might be on an anime recommendation draft 😅 Like, sure, their character design is an obvious indication but it's really all the anguish bubbling just beneath the surface. And now I need to read all the source material because I'm not sure I can wait for them to animate (even though the animation is just 😘👌🏾

For background on my experience while watching TGCF, there are a lot of cultural/religious things that were completely out of my current realm of understanding re: ascension, conditions/relation of the supernatural beings discussed, etc. but I was still able to really enjoy it without and prompted curiosity to learn more before jumping into the novels. Like, having watched and read media informed by Japanese culture (and growing up on Inuyasha), you understand the idea of youkai, general types and their dispositions, even some religious aspects to practices by priestesses and even everyday people, etc. so it's a little easier to navigate. So getting into Chinese media of a certain time period where those beliefs and practices inform the story was a challenge but it also just kind of opens your eyes to how much you don't know which is exciting. I absolutely want to check out the books because I need to know Xie Lian's whole origin (including his 17th birthday and his parents backstory) and what transpired to have created the delicate soft spot San Lung has for him. I hadn't heard of SVSSS yet but MDZS is on my TBW and I'm wondering if watching it will help clarify my confusion from TGCF or if I should do some research ahead of time so I'm not as lost.

Never apologize, I love when people are inspired and passionate! Lol and makes the conversation I have with you guys feel less one sided (with my disproportionate essay responses haha). 💛 I'm sure I'll post when I start watching/reading any of the above so we can reconvene! I'm currently finishing up Stars Align and, from what I've gathered might need to add this to my TBR to get a satisfactory end to things, too. 😭

I've been running on an empty battery lately so Tumblr's really the only social media platform I've been consistently perusing and posting on (RIP to twitter, insta and tiktok, ig). The upside of this being that I see JJK and BNHA leaks less frequently so I'm out here living in ignorant bliss ✨ So if you're out in these virtual streets, be safe out there, anon!

[mikuyuuss]

Im glad the kny fandom has finally reached that point where people are now actually exploring rare pairs, whether platonic or not, (or just exploring new stuff in general)

I have silently been in this fandom for like 5 freaking years. Back in 2019, when kny has at the peak of its mainstream fame (at least in my experience here) there were lots of awesome fanworks. As much as I enjoy those, I feel like most people were only focusing on surface level and/or whats popular (popular ship, popular characters, popular hcs, etc) and not rlly caring much for the rest. It was the one thing that was slightly saddened me.

And yeah I'm kinda guilty myself bc I love a lot of popular ships too, but I also love it when people try to dig into things a bit more and try to explore stuffs from a new angle. It's the reason why I love reading metas (and another reason why it saddens me how much Kny is lacking in metas, unless it's metas of popular characters.) Even though there's alot to explore? People just took everything at face value. I remember when the manga first ended, people just immediately switched fandoms. It was so jarring D: We still got the animes to look forward to! Look at the FMAB FANDOM!!

Idk if it has to do with the manga suddenly ending when the fandom was still new, and the kny audience being mostly composed of very young people who probably are still figuring things out, but yeah :( I just remember thinking "C'mon guys, just be a bit more creative!! That's what fandom spaces are all about!!" In general, People just didn't bother to explore much of anything in kny. Even though there's a lot of interesting things like sometimes people even forget that the show takes place in taisho era.

It was a little sad ngl, in my previous fandoms, people were so invested that they would literally hyper focus on every single details esp when it comes to their favs and I got used to that type of stuff. But them being older fandoms could explain it too.

Anyways Wow, this got longer and rantier than usual 😅 but I'm just glad I see more rare pairs that are gaining more attention. I see more people just mashing their favs together and somehow magically making it work. I also see more niche headcanons too. Kny fandom just seems a little more adventurous now, and people are actually expressing what they love instead of just sticking to what's popular, which does make me a bit happier.

[legionofpotatoes]

I’m saying this as someone who’s only exposure to Dune pre movie was a porn parody flash game, and a blog article about said flash game arguing that it was one of, if not the most faithful Dune adaptation of the time…

How the FUCK, do you not see this whole thing and think… “wow, these people are fucked up, and should not be emulated or looked up to in any real way.” Or “wow, this feels like a Manifest Destiny space AU.” Or “the main character being a privileged white kid who manipulates the religion of the people native to the planet to perform a coup by way of monopolizing and bottlenecking a resource necessary for FTL while ALSO exploiting those same native peoples feels like a bad time all around.”

I’m serious when I say the, again, porn parody flash game, where you play as Paul and the whole point is to monopolize the the spice market and create a harem while you were at it, imparted quite well, that the entire scenario was fucked up for many different and varied reasons.

While also being super horny about it

As much as I agree with your greater point, my joke was targeted mainly at younger dudes. The ones that don't necessarily try to parse "meaning" in anything they look at; but ones that will readily internalize all that dramatized and glorified imagery of jingoistic heroism in whatever context it comes packaged in. time's a flat circle! I choose to find it funny for now.

Listen, in the general public consensus, for all intents and purposes Dune is "just another blockbuster movie". its aesthetic trappings very much project a facsimile of your standard hero's journey monomyth. That is just inarguable fact, right? Lanky ass dude gets literally "chosen" and put on a prepared path to messianic glory against his will; his eventual acceptance of that mantle is the entire conflict of dune 1. he ends it by finally heading "into the desert". SUPER shitty optics when you discern the geopolitical allegory of it all, but also the music swells and the short-term pieces of the conflict are set in very black-and-white shades so like. The surface-level plot motions have been fulfilled in very traditional ways. Most young boys won't look further.

There is some lip service hinting at a darker destiny with his visions and his mom's turmoil, but that very much isn't the central POV of the storytelling. And there wasn't a lot of fremen empathy packaged into the ideation either, at least to my eyes; his father's ethos was considered the kind one. and he simply chose to follow it. the rest - all the fucked up implications you mention - are just seedlings for later payoffs. HOPEFULLY.

even the books sort-of interrogate the manifest destiny bullshit much later, when his crusade grows beyond his control and becomes genuine nightmare stuff. again, all of this despite the writing always being on the wall from day one, I don't disagree with that.

I just find it fascinating how well Dune wears both the monomyth and the summer blockbuster coats on its shoulders. I hope that it doesn't buckle to their demands and actually gets to the heart of the issue without too much undue pathos. And that's the mystery of it all for me; so far, the first film is set up to go either direction tbh, and I am very curious to see how it all unfolds. Ergo, your potential fight club 2.0 cocktail mix. It's all just very interesting.

yes, I did write five entire paragraphs without asking about the porn parody flash game. something at the back of my mind tells me that I still shouldn't.

[crystalsamethyst]

Continued:

We are starting. Will our cleric lose wish? Will that wish wording be in effect?

NOOOO HE LOST WISH!!!!!! RIP TO WISH YOU WERE A FANTASTIC SPELL!

Was this wish wording good enough? Will my husband the DM have some mercy on us?

YES WE SUMMONED HIM, HE TURNED INTO SLUG, HE FELL INTO THE ZONE, HELL YEAH, LET'S WRECK THIS DUDE.

He passed his con saves on the symbols but will still take half for the death symbol so at least there's that.

Hehehe I finally got to use this bolt of fiend slaying and did a lot of damage.

Oh shit. he dug in the ground. We did not think he could dig. He's out of the forbiddance zone. I hope he can't teleport. What the fuck. Can slugs burrow? Is that a thing they can do?

HE'S FUCKING STUNNED

BUT USES LEGENDARY RESISTANCE FUCK

I FEEL LIKE A SPORTS COMMENTATOR BUT THIS IS THE ONLY SPORT I CARE ABOUT

CLERIC CASTS DIVINE INTERVENTION AND FINALLY ROLLS RIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FUCKING WEEKS AND ASKS TO BRING SLUG BOY TO THE SURFACE AND FOR THE SURFACE TO NOT BE ABE TO BE BREACHED AGAIN

This is the best fight ever lmao

Cleric's god has put a no-save levitate spell on him so he's stuck in place and can't teleport because he's back in the forbiddance zone. Hehehehehehe

Druid pulls erupting earth and does some pretty great damage even if it ends up halved! He gettin' smacked. Down. Shoulda killed us when he had the chance!

Debating on whether our druid should turn back into a dragon turtle to hit him with a breath weapon with this distance from the symbols. Lvl 18 abilities are so wild.

YESSS TO ANOTHER NAT 20 ON MY SNEAK ATTACK! 82 DAMAGE AND HE LOOKIN BLOODY!

He can't even do anything on his turn!!!! And takes damage from the symbols and forbiddance! Y'all I'm loving this fight. Good vibes everywhere. We killin Boooolzingbaallll today.

Wow our cleric is taking damage... Because of him casting a spell on Wish Sickness. Not even from the devil lord. This is great.

So. 2 symbols. Forbiddance. And now blade barrier. On this levitated slug form devil lord that can't do anything.

Our DM just informed our cleric that his simulacrum can cast diving intervention too. Like, woah. The power. Potentially, if the roll is right, as is the rule of dnd.

Druid did some great damage too, this slug is screaming. I missed on my turn but not even mad.

He's getting wrecked by all the area effects too and this is just like. So nice to watch. He kicked our asses last time and this is called satisfying retribution.

RANGER KILLED BALLBOY WITH ONE LAST BOLT. HE DEAD!

The only damage anyone took was our cleric and it was all self-inflicted and he stole the devil's soul in a soul cage! Amazing! He's gonna milk it for the 8 hours he's in his grasp. Maybe a little torture.

Cleric: The Unmaker is dead and so is Baalzebul. *dark laugh*

Rogue: That's kind of... An evil laugh you got there...

Cleric: I told him he shoulda killed me.

---

Soooo we've killed 2 lords of the 9 and 2 generals of the 9. 4 archdevils total. Fuck. Yeah.

We're gonna have a little party! We're going back to the boat on the 8th level so we can party with the people who brought us here!

Side quests have been pretty much wrapped up! Most contracts complete! I think we just need to go to the secret library to get out of Asmodeus having our souls!

---

Cleric's double got to use divine intervention fuck yeah. I have no idea why. He named it simularius (secondary Darius)

Oh my god. He's trying to get wish back at the sacrifice of the double.

His god has a counter-offer. Returning the double to its original state, including having a wish left. One. Wish.

His other potential ask is to switch out the wizard spell in his 9th spell slot to replace Wish since he can't use it anymore.

One Wish or a different spell he can cast several times? Which will he choose? He chose the Wish!

---

Strawberries and wine. The feast of champions. Next on our hit list: Asmodeus (Says Anemone)

---

We wake up. Our druid has gained claws and conversation leads to her altering her appearance to look like the cleric. My rogue wakes up, sees him, his double, and her altered self.

Rogue: Uhh, I think I drank too much. Even one of you was too much.

Cleric: Our druid is experiencing how great it feels to be me!

Rogue: *turns to cleric* how do you feel being a short and very heavy dwarf?

Cleric: Rude

Druid: *laughs but in cleric's accent*

Cleric: Hey don't you mock me!

Druid: *Still in accent* I'm not mocking. I'm accurately performing.

---

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Tiax, the crazy sorcerer first mate of the ship, is suddenly offering us 20 soul coins for Captain Kohtam's head.

I always knew he was absolutely crazy. And our DM cut it there.

D-D-D-D-DND!!! 📢🎉🎉🎉

We are on the 3rd layer of hell to figure out what to do about this submarine.

Talking about how we don't have a get out of jail free bail-out card by devil lords.

Cleric: Oh wait, I didn't take the deal! I still have one, but there's only one way she's gonna get my soul.

Rogue: With a scythe and then slurp you up Soul Eater style?

Cleric: No. *points at ring* Marriage.

Rogue: Okay we went two very different ways with that.

---

But first, we have to get remarried. Which means we have to be widowed. And it's my rogue's turn to die and then get resurrected. Rip Anemone for half a minute. In the morning.

---

We've decided to steal a book from dragons first. The same ones that tried to trick us last time and we came out on top. My rogue has volunteered to do some rogue shit so let's hope it goes smoothly because it's a 'by myself' plan.

Alright. In the cave as a frog. About to communicate to druid on the surface to transform me back so I can steal a book while the dragons are distracted cuddling again.

Aaaaaaa I did it no problem!!! Rolled basically 30 on everything so like. Frog goes in. Turns into fairy with a quick invisible cloak action. Steals book into bag of holding. Turns back into frog. Hauls ass out of there.

Rogues!

[cecilioque]

VOLO’S OUTFIT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BAD. And here is why I think so...

To begin, we are not talking about the Ginko guild design, we are talking about the “final boss” fit. We all know that Volo’s outfit is dumb, but I’m mad because it  was actually thought out and VERY symbolic in the sense that it essentially represented things Volo said/wanted.

I, like everyone else looked at this outfit and went “wow, that is dumb” and then hated on it.  Although it is not the most appealing or cool outfit, there was actually a lot of thought that went into it. I could be really over analyzing this, but here is my interpretation.

To begin with, the concept art is a lot more revealing about the intention of the design then the actual game play.  On a surface level we see Volo in what I can only assume is a Arceus gijinka cosplay.  So the hair, the stars, and color scheme are all elements of Arceu’s  design.  Cool. Good job especially since Volo had in fact never seen Arceus before.

To fully understand this outfit we have to go back to Hisui and the remains of this so called “ancient civilization”. In the Pokemon world, there is this general idea that the ancient culture was either Roman or Greek inspired. We see evidence in Legends of Arceus by the obvious column heavy architecture and use of Greek Doric columns ( one of the earliest styles of columns used for temples) and in the ruins and temple. 

The Temple of Sinnoh is obviously based off of the Parthenon. It’s funny because game freak went as far as to even mimic both Ionic and Doric styles in the Temple of Sinnoh just like the Parthenon. I will go as far to add that the Sinnoh temple is much simpler than the Parthenon due to the fact that it was not embellished with an elaborately carved frieze or any decoration on the exterior for the most part.  Bizarre when even the broken ruins have evidence of some sort of ornamentation. It makes complete sense why the game developers chose this style seeing how is is know for being very simplistic.  But it also dates it in context.  It makes the Temple of Sinnoh the first temple that was build and the others that followed were build as the civilization grew ( thus more elaborate but we can only see the crumbled remains).

I will be ignoring the Snowpoint temple because it is a weird combination of styles and almost seems alien and out of place which very much fits the Regi theme.  It is also based on the early game design which was limited and blocky for game space sake.

Ok, heavy Greek and Roman influence. Back to Volo and his obviously Greek and Roman fit.  Volo’s name itself means “I wish”  in latin and could possibly be a reference to the phrase “volō, ergo sum” (I wish, therefore I am). Very in character since it is the wish for more” and he did everything he could to achieve that.

The actual influence for the design is more Roman in nature. This bothered me because we can see that research and thought went into it, but they just simplified it. And this actually has a point.

To begin with the obvious stuff, we see that volo’s shirt is definitely toga like. It even goes so far to be decorated with a Fibula (brooch)in a way that indicates a higher rank or status.  Cool Volo, we get that you think highly of yourself. Color choice is also same as Arceus, but we also know that white togas were also used by senators and high political officers.

Next , the shoes.  These are just the basic stereotypical Spirit Halloween Greek god/goddess type of sandals you can get at your local costume shop.  This was actually the most disappointing part of the outfit for me. But it makes sense they went with the most simplified and recognizable style.  They wanted us to look at this outfit and go “ Wow, Volo has been studying his myths and recreated an outfit”. This is what you could expect someone to create with just a written description of the clothing used during that time.

The necklace is interesting because it stands out so much compared to the gold colors. I am no sure what they were going for here by making it so prominent, but it brings us to an interesting thought.  If they necklace does have meaning, it is related directly to the design/shape.  The waterdrop could be the Greek symbolism for "tears of grace” or in a sense “gods grace”. The idea that the tears of god water the harvest and provide life. Alternate interpretations could simply be water as a source of life, or a symbol or sadness a mourning.  If it is a symbol of of mourning, this might be a clue to why Volo might desire to rewrite the world so much.

Last but not least, the pants. I think we can all decide this is one of the worst parts of the outfit, and to me it is just straight up confusing for two main reasons.  For starters, the color green is so prominent when green is an accent color on Arceus.  So maybe the color has meaning itself.  But if you look at the image above, the color mainly refers to life and “the harvest” (possibly like the necklace).  It has a weird connections to life and creation itself, which probably is why it was included in Arceus’ design and makes sense as Volo essentially wants to become the creator of life in a new world.

But this isn’t the part that gets me the most. The second thing that confuses me is the fact that the Greeks and Romans did not use pants.  This was because pants were associated with non-Roman/Greek cultures (the Germanic tribes and Vikings) who they looked down upon. On top of that, the Greeks thought pants were feminine and silly.  This could also just simply be a design choice because they didn’t wanna draw Volo in a full toga and accidently make him look like Christ. But this leads to my final point of the physical outfit itself.

VOLO’S OUTFIT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD. IT’S SUPPOSED TO LOOK DORKY AND BAD BECAUSE IT WAS FLAWED! This is based on the real world cultures it was based on. And although Volo may have done a lot of research, he still didn’t completely understand ancient culture.  It’s bad because Volo made it himself. His outfit was flawed just like his ideology. It is his own interpretation of a culture that he had idolized without truly understanding that this great and ancient culture crumbled. And based off of the architecture of the ruins and temples, it never even reached a prime before it fell.

But Volo thinks its correct/cool/accurate. He is being a fool about it because he didn’t understand the bigger picture and had become consumed with this desire for power and control.  This as an idea is really cool and I find it funny that you can also wear the outfit. Its essentially mocking him. If we look at the outfit in this light, the design was a success in getting us to dislike it and evoke this distaste. We didn’t know why, but this is why.

SO IN SUMMARY, OUTFIT WAS BAD ON PURPOSE. It wasn’t thoughtless, in fact there was a lot of research behind it and yet that seems to be thrown out to simplify the design in a way that looks like someone hand made it based off of what they had put together themselves.

But this isn’t my favorite part  of the concept art.  My favorite part is the hands.

Look at his hands. Why are they in those positions? Wouldn’t it have been easier to create more standard poses?  To me the hand gestures here are just too specific. So I started digging around for what they could be on a Art history level.  I looked at Non Christian art first and then Christian symbolism within their mosaics, illuminated manuscripts, and paintings. And I found some verrrry interesting similarities.  I am not trying to make this religious. I just found some interesting similarities between old Christian art and Volo’s design.  Which makes sense if we go back to this Greek/Roman influence because these cultures eventually converted to Christianity.  And Arceus is kind of a weird goat god Jesus.

The left hand is where the biggest symbolism is.  Basically, this hand gesture has been used to indicate “the hand of god” or the “hand of justice”.  Christ sometimes is draw with a similar hand position and could be a sign of the cross, but this would also refer to some sort of divinity.  I will also note that Volo is in no way making the classic “blessing” hand gesture.

As for the right hand he is making what I assume is a Greek/Roman orator (speaker) gesture. This would mean that Volo is calling for attention. Note, that I didn't’ compare this to prophets. That’s because orators speak for themselves and prophets for god.  And Volo thinks he is god.

Under this context, in the concept art Volo is essentially saying “I am God”.  If we add the symbolism of his outfit, it only further solidifies this idea.  Volo’s outfit/concept comes together and screams “behold, I am god , the hand of justice. I will be the creator or the new world”. Which is so freaking clever because that’s literally what he tells you. 

Sure his hands are switched and lowered compared to actual real world art examples (thank you Game freak for not throwing in actual religious symbols/gestures), but I think the intention is still there.  It’s so good that I am mad.  So as much as I hate this dumb outfit, I cannot deny that it was well thought out, that the character was well thought out.

To conclude, these are my assumptions. I am not an expert on art history or religion.  If you have further insights on this feel free to share. I’d be interested with what others had to add.  I the end this could all be wrong and just crazy for overthinking the designs of a pokemon character, but it just seems too intentional to be carelessly thrown together. This is just one possible interpretation.

Though its just more evidence in my mind that a lot of love and care went into developing Legends of Arceus. Despite their limitations and resources.