#but i wanted to especially stick with canon items

[moons-rising]

world building wednesday: PLANTS

narcala-ranar's signature plant is sunbeam rotala, which grows all over the clan's territory. it's never kepts in pots or garden plots, as it's supposed to be allowed to grow wild and free, and vast swathes of healthy thriving sunbeam rotala are seen as a good omen for the health and prosperity of the clan.

popular plants to be kept in pots on window sills and grown as ornamentation around the town's buildings are dayglo thresh, hallowed ivy, chickweed and dusty marigold.

potted fire lilies and cindervines are meticulously cared for to remember the clan's roots in the ashfall waste.

for food, the clan's gardens and fields grow strawberries, luminous almonds, sweet potatoes, honeycrisp apples and sunbeam figs. potash peaches and cindermint grow plenty on the slopes of the island volcano that cradles the town, and water lettuce can be found in many small artificial waterway weaving between other garden plots. along the coastline, seaberries are a popular snack, and giant kelp is gathered from the sea of thousand currents.

[shiroisotto64]

Realistic Mauga Hcs

I’ve head his voice lines on repeat and me and a few others have come to realize something….he’s like really close to yandere territory..and it’s kinda shocking. 💀

Sure before mauga forms an emotional connection he’s cool. Still a loose canon that doesn’t care about the lives he takes. Still blood thirsty but not obsessive.

Like let’s look at him and bap. Regardless if you think they were a thing or friends, mauga is very possessive! He’s been chasing him down and following him since he left talon. Hell, he even had his picture circled in red marker for sake!

So imagine you come around, you and mauga have pretty good chemistry and over time you grow attached to one another! Good. Right? 🧍🏽‍♀️ WRONG 🗣️ so very wrong at that. 😞

He likes and how you’re cooked. Prepare to have him all over you even before your an official item. Sure he would never get jealous I mean look at him. He knows how good he looks.

He’ll flex and show off. Be reckless just to have you patch him up. And if your the clingy type? Even better! He couldn’t care less. He’ll carry you around and stick besides you. You wanna go shopping? Sure let’s go right now, wanna go to the club? What without HIM? Not happening.

Not to mention how protective he’d be. Your so much smaller then him, he may not regard his safety or others but yours is taken seriously. And god forbid he catches someone hitting on you and making you feel uncomfortable.

All of a sudden they’re gone. A stalker? Nah, he’s the only one allowed to stalk you honestly. And that’s exactly what would happen if you tried to leave or run off without telling him.

He took the time to Learn all of your habits. He’s a good listener and when you first start off it’s cool that he loves learning about you, but when your in deep and want out? Kinda hard when he knows all your friends, family , favorite hangout spots. HE KNOWS IT ALL. 😭

He’d love marking his s/o to. Tones of hickeys, damn there EVERYTIME an old one fades he has to add at least one more. You wanna wear his bandana? Sure go ahead. In fact he’ll get matching ones. He’s the type to wear your rubber band around his wrist.

Basically? Mauga is really chill till your try to leave. ESPECIALLY after bap leaving? He can’t let another one of his buddies run off. You comply and behave and you have nothing to fear.

Cause sorry to break it to you? But running away from him is like super short lived. He’s relentless with his search and I don’t even wanna think about the punishment’s for having him go through the trouble. Worst part? He’s smiling the WHOLE time.

TAGS: @idciminlove @marituyoppa

[quicktosimp]

Why Can't You See?

Summary: The RDA has returned. Since their return, we have not only been fighting with the humans but Jake and I cannot see eye to eye anymore. No matter how hard I try, Jake and I seem to be falling apart. I want to fight for our mateship, but I don't know how much longer I can fight.

Warnings: Canon violence, Disassociation, Attempted Smut (No Actual Smut)

I will never regret the day I met the Sully’s. They are the loves of my life, and I will always cherish them. Having four kids with them was another great gift from Eywa. But I am so tired.

Ever since the humans came back to Pandora, Neytiri and I have taken over the brunt of parenting; not only that, but we have had to fix everything Jake has been doing. He demands and orders the children, especially the boys, to do outrageous things that they end up failing. I then have to go around and reassure the boys before turning around and talking with Jake about it, leading to another argument: Neytiri standing between us, trying to get the two of us to see reason. This has gone on for over a year now, but today is going to be a good day. The raid has been planned to perfection. It’s going to be an in-and-out operation: blow up the tracks, grab the weaponry and supplies, and get out. We already have our chosen spotters: several men who passed their Iknimaya a little after Jake and I did. 

Jake and I lead the team, himself in the air on Bob, while I lead the ground forces on pa’li. My warriors were beside me as we waited for our signal. My anxious emotions were fed back to me by my pa’li, our tsaheylu keeping us connected. My pa’li stomped her hoves impatiently., I sent a wave of calmness to her as I pat her neck soothingly, never taking my eyes off the target. 

Over the comms, I heard Jake say, “Ground teams go,” And we were off.

The resounding sounds of battle cries rang through the air as we raced our way to the tracks. The explosives went off with a bang, turning the tracks to scrap metal, and the train itself flew off the rails, flinging into multiple pieces. Rolling over and on top of each other, each causing their own explosion. The fires were horrendously hot, and the sweltering heat nearly unbearable, but everything had gone as planned. 

I watched as Jake swooped down from the sky, shooting at the aircraft with a cry, Neytiri following after him with her bow, releasing a cry of her own. I shook my bow, releasing my own cry after them, pleased with the results, as I watched the carrier crash. 

“Go! Go!” I shouted at my warriors as we surrounded the crash, “We don’t have long, you know the plan! Stick to your stations!” I ordered as we got into position.

We all got to work; as the air team landed, I noticed that our spotters were on the ground, concerned I reached for my comm, “Devil Dog, you read me? Our spotters are on the ground; who’s in the air?” I asked assertively.

I was handed several more crates before my ear twitched with Jake’s response, “Fireball, we ended up with two more; I put them on spotting, so we have more on the ground.”

I growled as my irritation rose. Damn Jake and changing the plans without telling me.

“We’ll talk about this later,” I growled into the comms before running back to my pa’li and offloading what was in my arms. 

I ran back into the crash site as Jake landed. He watched over the scene, his gun in hand, but did not move a finger in helping us. Neytiri was on the ground, ordering those into collective files. The screeching of our ikrans and our battle cried, making it difficult to hear anything. 

“Let’s go, two minutes, people, let's go,” Jake’s voice rang in my ear. 

I relayed the information, “Two minutes! Let’s go!”

In my haste, I brushed off what I thought was Neteyam’s voice; my boys are back at High Ground; it’s just my paranoia.

On the other side of the destruction, I could hear Norm explaining to grab the high-priority items. I grabbed several more cases of RPGs and ammunition before I noticed my pa’li could carry no more. I swung onto my steed and shouted a call to my warriors, signaling it was time to head out. I looked over to my warriors, watching as they all mounted their pa’li when I heard a war cry, Lo’ak’s war cry. My eyes looked over the wreckage, trying to spot my son, but instead, I was met with the sight of a gunship. A spotter called it first, sounding the alarm. 

“Gunships in bound fall back!” Jake’s voice came through the com.

I hastily replied, “I heard Eagal Eye on the ground! I’m going in!” 

I sent the warriors on their way as I rushed my pa’li into the destruction. 

“Negative Fireball, I have it handled. Head back to base,” Jake ordered through the comm, but I refused even to reply, instead forcing my pa’li faster. 

The gunship fired two shots, blowing up the nearby ground and supplies; someone quickly shot at the gunship, taking out one of its propellers, quickly causing the gunship to spiral and crash. I continued on, the dust and debris coating my face and lungs as the heat became worse than before.

“Lo’ak! Neteyam!” I called as I looked for my sons.

“Lo’ak, where are you? Neteyam?” Jake yelled nearby.

I spotted Jake crouched over; as I approached, I saw Lo’ak in Jake’s arms. I was too relieved to be angry, seeing that Lo’ak was okay. I jumped off my pa’li, joining the two.

“Lo’ak! Are you okay?” I quickly checked over for any injuries. 

Lo’ak quickly nodded his head wordlessly.

“Where’s your brother?” Jake demanded.

Lo’ak attempted to stutter out an answer, only successfully pointing to a general area.

“You two get out of here; go on!” Jake demanded as he continued for Neteyam. 

It felt like a knife had been twisted in my chest, the idea of leaving one of my sons. But Lo’ak was in shock, and I needed to get him home.

I hold Lo’ak’s face in my hands, “Alright, come on, we gotta get out of here; your dad's got Neteyam, okay?”I moved down and grabbed Lo’ak’s hand, pulling him along. 

I rushed through the wreckage, pulling Lo’ak behind me and onto my pa’li, and with a yip, we were off. As we sped through the jungle, I could feel Lo’ak’s arms trembling around me. I reached around and patted at his hair, trying to soothe him the best I could. As we arrived at the meeting place, I helped Lo’ak off my pa’li before turning to the stolen goods.

“Alright, Lo’ak, I need your help. Grab some equipment and load it onto the ikrans,” I explain simply, knowing Lo’ak needs direct instructions. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Lo’ak answered.

I grabbed his arm, gently pulling him to me; I brushed his braids out of his face, “I don’t care where we are; I’m not a ma’am to you; I’m your Mama.”

A small smile slipped over Lo’ak’s face, “Yes, Mama,” Before he went and continued his duties.

As we continued to transfer the weaponry, the pit in my stomach built. Not knowing if my other son was okay if Jake got Neteyam out of there, was Neteyam hurt? I chewed my lip as I worked on. I watched as Lo’ak started acting like himself again, a bit nervous but much better than before. My team didn’t take long, as soon we were all in the air on our ikrans. I searched the sky furiously, skewering for any signs of my family. Lo’ak flying close to me, he yipped for my attention; as I looked over, he pointed at three ikrans, Neytiri, Jake, and Neteyam. I was finally able to breathe again, seeing Neteyam well enough that he could fly on his own. But as my chest eased from worry, anger took its place. Neither of the kids was to be on this mission, yet Jake wasn’t even surprised! Because he knew, he chanced out the spotters; Lo’ak and Neteyam were the new spotters. Jake deliberately went behind my back and put the kids on the mission! By the time we landed, I was seething, my anger causing me to shake. 

“Sa’nu! Mama!” I heard Tuk yell as he hugged Neytiri. 

I bent over and embraced Tuk and Neytiri, an arm around both of them, using this moment to calm my ire. 

“Fall in,” Jake demanded gruffly, sounding just as pissed as I was.

I couldn’t stop the growl from slipping past my lips as the rage bloomed again. Neytiri and Tuk looked at me, Neytiri with concern and Tuk startled. I placed a kiss on Tuk’s forehead as I watched Lo’ak and Neteyam slowly walk over to stand in front of Jake, both nervous about the outcome. 

And Jake started right into them, “You’re supposed to be spotters. You spot bogeys, and you call ‘em in. From a distance!” Jake’s voice was angry but also wobbled in fear as he got into Neteyam’s face, “Does any of this sound familiar?” Jake turned to Lo’ak, demanding, “Get here!” Lo’ak slowly walked over as Kiri went to check on Neteyam, and Jake continued on, “Jesus! I let you two geniuses fly a mission, and you disobey direct orders.” Neteyam couldn’t even look Jake in the eye as his and Lo’ak’s tails flickered nervously.

Jake turned to Kiri, “Kiri, can you go help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?” His voice was softer yet urgent with our eldest daughter. 

Kiri looked at Jake and snarked, “My brother is wounded.”

Neteyam tried to brush off his injuries as Jake pleaded with Kiri, “Baby girl, please,” Tuk had wandered over to Lo’ak, trying to hold his hand, before Jake snapped at Tuk, “Tuk, go with her! Go!”

Our daughters sighed before walking away.

“Dad. Sir, I take full responsibility,” Neteyam started, trying to placate Jake.

“Yeah, you do. That’s right. ‘Cause you’re the older brother. You gotta act like it,” Jake snapped at Neteyam.

My anger could take no more, “That is enough, Jake,” I hissed at him, fangs barred.

Jake stepped back, shocked by my sudden outburst.

“You want to talk about responsibility? As parents, we had agreed that none of the kids would see the battlefield until they were 18, yet you went behind Neytiri and I’s back doing this. We already knew that they weren't mature enough for this! The responsibility for all of it is on you!” I growled out, my eyes wide, as I stalked forward, putting myself between Jake and the boys. 

I force myself to speak calmly, “Boys, go to your grandmother; we will continue this later,” But my eyes never left Jake.

“No! We are not done yet!” Jake demanded as the boys tried to walk away.

I hissed in response, causing Jake to flinch again.

“Ma’Jake, your son is actually bleeding,” Neytiri, the voice of reason, calmly intervenes.

“Sa’nu, it is fine. I..” Neteyam attempted to brush off again.

Jake shook his head, “Just go and get patched up. Go on, dismissed.”

Neteyam walked away, Neytiri following him as she looked back at Jake and me, worried about leaving us there for the moment.

“You do understand that you almost got your brother killed?” Jake demeanded from Lo’ak.

“Yes, Sir,” Lo’ak agreed degectively.

“Absolutely not,” I shut that down, “Lo’ak, you and Neteyam shouldn’t have been there in the first place. No, you shouldn’t have disobeyed your father's orders, and for that, you will be grounded, but the rest of it is on you, Jake,” I quickly turned to Jake.

Jake opened his mouth to speak, only to stop short, turning to Lo’ak, “You’re grounded. No flying for a month. Now see to the ikran. All of ‘em,” Despite wanting to protest, I agreed with the punishment. 

“Yes, Sir,” Lo’ak responded numbly.

And because Jake can’t keep his mouth shut, “And get that crap off your face,” He demanded before attempting to storm off.

I grab Jake’s arm, glaring at him, “This conversation is not over,” I growled before moving away and checking on Lo’ak.

Lo’ak was sulking as he went to bring Bob away; he looked up at me, his eyes dejected.

“Lo’ak, come here,” I demanded softly, opening my arms for him. 

Sluggishly, he shuffles his way to me, wrapping his arms around me as I pull him into a hug. I rest my cheek on top of his head and cradle him close.

“I love you so much, Lo’ak; you know that, right?” I ask him gently.

I could feel him nod his head as he hummed affirmatively.

“And while your father is horrible at admitting it, you know that Jake loves you, right?” I ask again, needing to know.

There was a pause before Lo’ak hesitantly nodded again. Tears pricked at my eyes. Lo’ak should never have to hesitate, yet here I am, holding my son as questions if his own father loves him. 

I kissed the top of his head before whispering, “I promise you, Lo’ak. Jake loves you; he loves every single one of you. I’m not going to go against Jake with your punishment, but I will be talking with him, okay?” 

“Okay, Mama. Can I go now? I have a lot to do,” Lo’ak asked but made no move to leave my arms.

“You can leave whenever you feel like it,” I answer, rubbing his back soothingly.

Lo’ak hugged me tighter before regretfully letting go, “Thank you, Mama.”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you, baby, because that is what I was made to do,” I explain lovingly to him.

Lo’ak gave me a small smile before walking away. I smile sadly, wishing I could do more right now. I shake my head before spotting Spider out of the corner of my eye—the little human boy who hangs out a lot. I smile at him as I walk over.

“Hello, Spider,” I greet calmly, “I’m sorry you had to see all that,” I apologized, seeing how uncomfortable he was.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Sully, I know you didn’t mean it,” Spider sheepishly replied.

I frowned slightly, “No, Spider, it’s not okay; none of you kids should have seen that. And as an adult, I am in the wrong. I should have handled that better, and that is why I’m apologizing to you,” I placed a hand on his shoulder, “And none of that Mrs. Sully stuff, it’s (Y/N), or you can call me Mama too if you want. You’ve always been my third son,” I smile softly at the teenager.

“Thank you, Mrs., um, (Y/N), um,” Spider stumbled.

I chuckled lightly at him, “Don’t worry about it, kid. Now, why don’t you come over later? I know Lo’ak and Kiri would love to see you and have an excuse to leave the kelku.”

Spider brightened up at the offer, “Will do, Mrs-, Ma-, (Y/N)!”

“Anytime, Spider, it is always a joy when you're around.”

Spider brightened even more, smiling joyfully at me, “I’m- I’m going to go help Lo’ak now,” He explained, backing away.

“Thank you, Spider; I’ll see you later with Lo’ak,” I watch him walk away to tend to the ikran with Lo’ak.

But as I stood there, all the emotions from the day hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know where to scream, cry, shout, punch something. It’s all there, trapping me in place, slowly leaving me numb. A pair of arms wrapped around me, one gentle hand moving my face, revealing Neytiri. Her face was sorrowful as she watched me.

“Ma’Muntxate, today has been hard on you, hasn’t it?” Neytiri’s voice was soothing.

I nod my head, feeling like I was moving through molasses.

“I got you, Syulang,” Neytiri cooed as she grabbed my arms, leading me off somewhere. 

I let her lead me aimlessly, the world nothing more than a blur as my emotions shut off completely. It seemed like it had been mere moments and yet hours simultaneously, but I felt warm. Gentle minstrains along my body, bringing feelings of comfort. I slowly looked around, noticing I was no longer at the High Ground but instead in a small hot spring hidden in the forest. The lush green calmed me. I breathed deeply, noticing that my armored vest was gone, as was my tewng. The colors of my war paint long gone, leaving me bare, just (Y/N), not a warrior, not a marine, not a parent, not a mate fighting for her children, just (Y/N).

“Are you back with me, Tìyawn?” Neytiri asked as she pressed her naked body to mine, holding me close.

I sluggishly wrapped my arms around her waist, leaning my head on her shoulder, “Yeah, ‘m back,” My voice was as sluggish as my body.

We stand there holding each other in the hot spring, simply enjoying each other's presence.

“Do you remember the first time we found this place?” Neytiri asked me as she threaded her fingers in my hair. 

“Yeah, it was when you were teaching Jake still. He had gone and done something stupid. You walked off, and I followed. Didn’t think I’d find your bathing,” I chuckled lightly.

“I was planning on doing much more than bathing, but I heard you coming. Your footsteps were so loud back then,” She chuckled in return.

“Much more? Damn, maybe I should have waited a bit longer,” I hummed appreciatively.

“Skxawng,” Neytiri mumbled back.

“What, that would have been nice. You’d probably have plucked my eyes out, but it would have been worth it,” I smile so hard it hurts my face.

I lay a small kiss on Neytiri’s neck; she sighs, leaning her head to give me more room. I continue leaving open-mouthed kisses along her neck, sucking her flesh into my mouth, knowing that marks will be left in their wake. Neytiri threads her fingers into my hair, pulling me closer as one of her hands travels south. But her touch didn’t bring the pleasure it usually does, instead leaving me wanting to get away. I tried to push through it, only for a sob to break through. 

I back off slowly, disappointed in myself, “I’m sorry, Love, but I can’t right now.” I blinked back tears, hating that I couldn’t give Neytiri what she needed right now. 

Neytiri pulled my face so we were face to face, her forehead resting on mine, “Do not apologize for something you cannot control, Yawnetu. Now come, rest with me.”

I let her pull me deeper into the hot spring. A small ledge in the water allows us to sit submerged up to our necks. Neytiri pulls me into her lap, holding me close as I wrap my arms around her neck. 

For now, everything is fine.

Taglist: @loakstahni, @eywaite

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[e-vay]

Tails and CC head canons if I may share:

I feel that Tails has very crackly joints, especially his spine because of his height, leading to CC being jumpscared at the sound of it as if he’d just broken half his bones lol

As CC grows as a person I can see her becoming very interested in the medical field, as she seems very interested in helping people and how mobians work in general. I was torn on if she would be a good surgeon or not as I think the skill would come naturally for her but also the moral dilemma of having to cut someone open would be a lot.

Foxes are red and green colour blind but CC being a robot wouldn’t be. She forgets sometimes and is very confused when he cant distinguish items.

CC is a morning person who likes to get the most of the day but Tails does his best work in the evenings when it’s quiet and he knows he won’t be bothered.

CC likes to develop useless skills like how to spin pens and flick tooth picks and playing cards to make them stick in the wall. She just loves learning and seeing what happens.

Tails is the type to be effected by the weather. When is winter he’s less productive and tends to sleep more. When the seasons are warmer and brighter CC can’t stop him from working. Extra points for Tails sneezing in the sun and getting headaches before thunderstorms.

Hope you enjoyed my hc dump, love your art sm and have a great day!!

WOW WOW WOW!!!!

I absolutely LOVE THESE! All of these are so perfect and so them. Hope you don't mind but (apart from the color blind one) these are all OFFICIAL now!

Thank you for sharing these, they make my heart so happy! Makes me really want to draw those two ASAP

[8-dermestid]

it's like as if somebody was gripping my throat

relationship: eyeless jack x reader

word count: 6.2k

links: available to read on ao3

warnings: canon-typical violence

M. Eerie National Park is one of the most boring places to work. You hike the trails to make sure nobody is trying to stay after hours, clean up garbage, and befriend the local cryptid.

Nobody knows about that last part except for you.

(like/reblogs are greatly appreciated, requests are open ✷)

“—Shocking news for M. Eerie National Park. Another victim, twenty-one-year-old Penn State student Ryan Sheppard, discovered on the property—”

You dig into your food, tuning out the broadcast as you scarf down your lunch and prepare for work. You rinse your bowl, toss it into the dishwasher, and move into the bedroom to change out of your pajamas and into your uniform. You pull up your cargo pants and pull on a green collared shirt with the M. Eerie National Park logo embroidered on the pocket. After deodorant, you pull on your hiking boots, grab your jacket and bag, and leave towards your car.

She’s a beat-up old thing, but she gets you to and from work without too much trouble. It’s a short, red, rust-damaged Honda Civic. Your car’s engine is strong, and it, other than the external imperfections and duct-taped-on mirror, has treated you well, and you’ve never felt the need to trade up.

(Nor the want, being a park ranger hardly gives you enough money to keep your head above the water, but you love it, and working an office job sounds worse than pulling all your toenails out at once with rusty pliers.)

The car sputters to life, rumbling beneath you in her comfortable and familiar way. You look down at the radio—the clock reads 14:37—you’ll be on time for the start of your shift. The drive isn’t exciting, and you’d take your boring drive over a three-hour drive to the office any day. Your job is so easy, too, a simple routine you follow every day—go in during the afternoon, hike the trails before closing, watch for lost folks and garbage, and close up the park. It’s easy, so easy that your job is almost dull. You walk into the break room, your lunch in your non-dominant hand, and stumble into a meeting.

“Oh. Hey guys.” You hesitate, creeping over to put your food in the fridge. Usually, the break room was empty, and Leslie, your superior in the standard uniform with her beat-up clipboard, was marching back and forth like a drill sergeant.

In the kindest way possible, you hope she retires. She’s been working here for so long and managing everything that she deserves some R-and-R. Leslie is the backbone of the team, and one would have to pry her position from her cold, dead hands (even then, it would still be a fight), but she should consider passing the job to someone else.

You plop down in one of the three empty chairs. Two of your coworkers transferred to another park (quite suddenly, too, no two-week notice or anything). It’s not good, especially considering they were the only other people working your shift.

“Alright, we can wrap up this meeting with a quick problem,” Leslie begins again, waving quietly to you. “Guests have been reporting stolen items more than usual, lots of jackets, gloves, boots, ooh—food, too,” Leslie jots something down on her clipboard, “To be honest, I think people are just misplacing things and blaming it on the wildlife, but if you see anything, just radio me, and I’ll come to help you sort it out.”

You nod. People leave things where they shouldn’t be all the time—you can't count the number of times families wake up with ransacked coolers because they leave them outside unprotected.

Leslie sighs, “And—look—there have been more than a few teens sneaking off into the woods before we close. Please, I don’t want another 24-hour challenge incident on our record. Keep an eye out for them. I mean it.”

Everyone affirms, whether with a nod or a “Yes, Leslie.”

The team filters out of the break room, and one of your coworkers (with wild, dark hair and stickers nearly smothering the Molly on her nametag) bounds to your side like a deer.

“You think it’s a bear?” She asks. She’s practically bouncing off the walls despite Park Ranger being the least thrilling job on the planet.

You shrug. You don’t carry the same energy that Molly does. She is just a wee sixteen-year-old at your side working her first big girl job, and any excitement at this middle-of-nowhere park is a godsend for her.

“Well, it could be a bear. But, I mean, a bear wouldn’t be stealing men’s jackets or boots.” she suggests, “Maybe not a bear, or maybe it’s those kids again… Remember the kids from a few weeks ago?”

Oh. Oh, of course, you remember those kids. Three of them, two girls and some in-between kid, all seventeen and seniors at the local high school (local being the closest high school, which was thirty miles away) that Leslie caught trying to stay overnight for some silly internet challenge. One of them, the in-between kid with the flattest hair you’ve seen in a while, brought an Ouija board because of some weird internet gossip about your park. It was strange—super, duper weird—because the couple (apparently, maybe? You aren’t sure) ditched the third girl to make out under an abandoned deck. Leslie only caught them because the third (a taller, more heavyset girl with colored hair) was terrified of some tall, slender man who scared her on the internet.

“God, don’t remind me.” You finally say. You still remember the three of them yelling at each other, Leslie dragging them out by the collars of their shirts like scruffed cats after they got caught (because one of the girls was a crybaby, their words, not yours).

Leaving the break room and finally feeling the sun this morning, Molly waves you goodbye and starts jogging down her favorite trail. She’s got energy for miles; if she were older and wiser, she could compete with Leslie.

Speaking of, Leslie pats your shoulder. Her grey hair shimmers in the sun, and she, with wrinkles showcasing her long and fulfilling life, smiles down at you.

“Afternoon, kiddo. You doing alright?”

You nod, more focused on the heavy workload you have in front of you.

Leslie pats your back like a coach would to her favorite player, “I know Josh and Ryan quitting hasn’t been easy on you.” Her voice is too solemn for a work transfer, “I’ll be working tonight, too, if that eases you.”

You perk up, half with relief and half because working with Leslie is the best. It’s comforting to have a superior like her around when people start getting wild in the woods; she’s good at grabbing people by the scruff and dragging them out, kicking and hollering.

“You can take care of the Southern Reach, yeah? You’re a big kid—you can handle it.”

You’re more than just a kid, but between her being near retirement age while you are fresh out of college—you are a kid in her eyes. You nod, already unhooking your heavy flashlight from its carabiner.

“That’s the ticket. I’ll take Northern. We’ll meet back up here for closing.”

“No, no, I’ll handle closing.” You persuade, “Come on, Leslie, I can handle closing a big gate. Just handle Northern and go home.”

She debates it, rolling the idea around in her mind before conceding. “Alright, kiddo. Just this once, though.”

At first, with the sun just touching the horizon, your checks go well, and you clean up a few empty beer cans along the southernmost trails. Your trash bag is light, which is a plus. You don’t need to pull your flashlight out until past seven in the evening when the moon peeks out behind you. You find an empty can of soup (chicken-noodle but with star-shaped pasta instead of noodles). The top looks messily cut, as if with a knife, which isn’t at all uncommon.

Except, well, this can has a pull tab disregarded by the previous user. You turn over the can in your palm, examining the shredded metal and paper label, and toss it into the bag with the rest of the trash.

Further, closer to the center of the trails, there is another disemboweled can. You pick up one, the lid is also ripped off, the pull-tab forgotten about, yet this soup can has more than half of it ripped off into a swirly shape, almost like someone was desperate for something to eat. It’s Campbell’s, not Grandma’s cooking.

There’s another can further into the woods, more shredded than the last, with a deep dent in the center; the can was clean, too clean, which is both weird and disgusting. Dogs shouldn’t eat this stuff concentrated—too much sodium.

Another one; there is a streaky, black substance marbling with some soup still sitting at the bottom of the can; another, and more of that black slime. You carefully pick up each one and add it to the bag. The next can has more of that substance—almost too much. The smell is putrid. It burns inside your nose, and you get a whiff of formaldehyde or something that reeks of death.

You keep traveling into the woods, finding more debris and litter, an old chewed-through sleeve, a jacket, and a glove smattered with that syrup-y oil. There’s something wet beneath your palm, and thank the stars you chose to bring your gloves this morning. It’s red, with a black slime marbled in it. It’s sticky between your fingers, and it smells awful. You follow the trail of red and black with your flashlight.

The source is the mangled carcass of a hiker wearing a high-vis vest. You suck in a breath and reach for your walkie-talkie. It’s sickening, and you can’t stop looking at the body as you radio for your superior.

“Leslie? Leslie, you there?” You plead, hands shaking and mind racing. Of all the people you want to pick up, it’s her. She’s been working here since before you were born—maybe she’s found a mutilated person in her time working the trails.

The silence stretches for an eternity until you hear a familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, I’m here. What’s going on?” She asks.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” You make the mistake of looking at it, at the remnants of a man, at the carcass before you. “I don’t even know what could do something like this.” God, it makes you sick, but you can’t look away.

“Come on, talk to me,” She barks, her voice firm with years of seniority, “What are you seeing? Talk.”

You swallow. “Some hiker got attacked. They’re not responsive,” You mutter into your little plastic lifeline. “I’m off Trapper’s—I don’t know—Christ, I’m going to be sick.”

“...Okay,” Leslie replies quickly, “Are you safe?”

You don’t know the answer to that question. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look frantically for movement in the dark woods. Leslie says something, but you can’t hear it over the sound of your heart hammering away in your ears. You see movement between the trees, the primal part of your brain attempting to identify any immediate danger. Everything is spinning, it reeks of death, and Leslie’s voice is staticky because of the shitty speakers.

“Answer me! Come on, kiddo, where are you?” She shouted, her voice laced with harsh static.

Your flashlight flickers, and you hope whoever ordered these flashlights has something horrible happen to them. Something rustles in the bush. The only thing you have to protect yourself is a bag of loose garbage and your shitty flashlight. Leslie is shouting so loud you can only hear half of her words. Whatever emerges from that bush will eat you alive—you’re sure of it.

The stench of death gets heavier as a figure crawls out from beneath the foliage, wearing a dark hoodie and a blue mask. There’s blood and guts caked under their fingernails, and they look filthy and smell worse. They lock eyes with you and try to stand, stumbling and letting out a near-inhuman cry. You hold your heavy flashlight like a baton—all it’s useful for, considering the lightbulb works when it wants to—as the masked stranger lets out a wheezy breath and crawls towards you.

You grip the flashlight so hard your hands are shaking, taking careful steps back to maintain some distance between both of you. Their approach doesn’t stop. They reach and grab at your leg and pull you to the ground. Your head is spinning as it collides with the damp earth, and you feel two hands digging into your abdomen, sharp nails scratching and attempting to burrow into your stomach. You shout as their ice-cold hands scrape across your body, their claws raking across tender flesh.

You thrash and try to push them away, but they hold you down with one hand and remove their mask with the other.

You always said you’d know what to do if you were in a slasher flick. You always called the protagonists stupid for freezing up in front of certain death, never thinking about what it felt like, knowing you were probably going to die. You look them in the eye—more so what’s left of them, staring into two tar-filled sockets where their eyes would be—and unable to do anything.

You lay back, each breath barely making it in and out of your lungs. They stop, hands still pressed firmly against you. They crane their neck, probably just as surprised as you for simply giving up. They tug your shirt back down, pressing a palm over it and smoothing the fabric with their palm.

It reignites something in you because before either of you can register what’s happening, they’re squealing in pain as you hit them upside the head with your flashlight. You scramble away, pulling yourself to your feet and running blindly to the main trail.

You don’t stop, even after the demonic cries die out under the sound of the beginning storm. You push and push yourself until you nearly collide with Leslie.

“Stars—! Kid, where the hell were you? What the hell happened to you?”

She shines the light across your face, then brushes a leaf from your coat. It’s hard to think about speaking; Leslie knows you’re trying.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, I’ll drive you home, kiddo.”

“But the—”

“Don’t worry about it,” She says as softly as she can, “You’ve done all you can do. Anything about you that I should be worried about?”

You pat your abdomen, a few lines of brown blood staining the front. You shake your head, and Leslie holds off on grilling you for details.

✷𓃞 ✷

She drives you home in her big pickup truck (she even went through a drive-thru and got you something to eat on the way home). She pats your back as you dig through the bottom of the bag for scraps.

“Don’t think about coming back tomorrow—Partly because you’ve been through hell tonight—but also because there’s going to be an investigation. Look—take it easy, maybe go see your doctor, don’t come back until at least next Tuesday.”

Leslie pulls over to the side of your street and pulls out a box of cigarettes. “I mean it, take it easy. You do enough work while you’re on the clock; don’t worry about anything—I have people that can cover your shift if you need more time off.”

You nod, gathering your things and walking towards your house, digging your keys from your jacket to escape the rainy weather. You shut the door behind you, and Leslie walks towards her truck, a thin line of smoke trailing behind her.

You open the door, and a warm puff of air welcomes you home. It’s quiet and dark, leaving you on edge from tonight’s incident. Instead of relaxing—like Leslie practically ordered you to—you drop your bag at the front door and book it to your computer. It hums to life, and you punch in your password and open your web browser. Surprisingly, being attacked by a person-shaped thing did not perturb your furious web-searching.

Creature in the woods near me

Masked creature, person that tried to eat me?

Blue man— you hastily hit backspace as Blue Man Group auto-fills in your search bar.

You keep trying outrageous combinations of words, eventually finding a near-defunct blog with a picture of the freaky humanoid that almost killed you.

EYELESS JACK. Well, the name fits. At least you’ve finally got a name for that face. You read through this article, which recounts this woman—a hiker-slash-rock-climber, to be more specific—coming into contact with a human-ish guy. They had a few photos of deep claw wounds that scarred over pale on her dark skin. You jot down the name, continuing to dig into the incident recounted by this woman.

You pause and close all your curtains and turn off all the lights (and you get yourself a drink to keep yourself awake). Sinking into your chair again, you continue the deep dive into this Eyeless Jack fellow, feeling like a detective from some once-popular show that wasn’t that good. You keep searching—jotting down leads for your search—until the sun is peeking over the horizon, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. Eyeless Jack has been around for longer than you first believed—they’ve probably been terrorizing after-dark visitors of your park for years, right under your nose.

Are there more missing-person cases? Did any of your coworkers who quit unexpectedly actually have a reason? God, this journey to the weirdest parts of the internet has left you with more questions than answers.

You look down at the big sticky-note pad you used for notes. It looks like you fell off the deep end with your feverish scrawling, smeared ink, and lots of quick notes about disembowelment, kidney removal, and even cult activity. You think this may need another night of internet excavation to answer those (and inevitably, come up with more, even crazier, questions). Based on a few accounts of unwanted kidney removal in their sleep, you think about getting something to eat—

—and staying as far from your bed as possible.

✷𓃞 ✷

You can’t even eat breakfast without being tempted by your thirst for knowledge; it’s unbearable. You don’t even want to think of spending more than a few days at home. Hopefully, the police hurry up and finish so you can start your investigation.

You quickly rinse and dry your empty dish, filling a glass of water and flopping onto the couch. Surfing channels and finding something mindlessly entertaining will probably take your mind off things.

The news is boring—talking about the recent storm off the southern coast—and some cooking show. A history documentary—about someone you don’t care for—a jewelry channel, another news channel, and a kids’ show.

(Tempting, but no.)

The local news, though not mindless, is entertaining. There’s an over-top camera view of the park. Dozens of police cruisers and K-9 units are parked—and you can see your car, your old, rusty girl in the lot—Cops are infesting every corner of your TV, some moving into the woods toward Trapper’s, others lingering to talk in the view of the helicopter. It cuts to a news anchor recapping the incident from last night. They think it’s a bear attack. Leslie says it was a bear attack. Your coworkers say it was a bear attack, and Wildlife Removal will deal with it.

They don’t know anything—Jack tore into that hiker like a wild animal—and left the poor guy’s insides all over the forest floor.

You don’t stop watching the news until they start talking about the weather, where you only half-listen. There’s going to be a storm tonight. The teams at your job are probably going to try to recover the body and bring it to the morgue before it starts raining.

You turn off the TV after that. You examine your abdomen, five short lines across your belly where their claws made contact. You decide to go to the bathroom to clean and dress them.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” You tell yourself.

After a few cotton balls soaked in alcohol and big bandaids later, everything is clean enough and about as well-dressed as you can, considering your supplies.

There’s not much to do at home, and trying to take your mind off things with your usual hobbies isn’t working. You even try scrolling mindlessly online, but you can’t stop thinking about last night.

Why did they stop—and so suddenly?

You lift your shirt and brush your thumb over the bandaids on your belly, the skin still too hot and tender. Maybe you were just lucky, stupidly lucky. You pick up your home phone and dial Leslie’s number. She at least deserves a warning about what’s out there.

“...What are you doing?”

“Leslie,” there’s some strain in your tone, “Hey, Leslie. How are things?”

“You’re calling about work? You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

Yes. Yes, you are.

“I know, but—Look, it’s about last night. I know you specifically told me not to do any digging, but—”

“Kid,” She cuts you off. You can picture her frustration as she probably rubs at her temples, “Tell me you did not do that.”

Yes. Yes, you did.

She sighs dramatically. “You work too hard—even when I order you to stop thinking about work, you do it anyway.”

“Look, it wasn’t an animal. It was a guy.”

“...What.”

You pull the phone from your ear. You probably do sound crazy. And you will continue to sound crazy when you talk about what you found online from defunct blogs from 1999. No matter how you try to spin it—every time you start talking—you can not come up with the words to explain that the scary internet creature is real. Leslie will not believe you, and who the hell would?

“...Nevermind. I have to go. I have, uhh, laundry in the dryer.” You mutter.

“Well, feel better, and stop going on the internet—you’ll scare yourself out of your skin with stuff people make up for fun,” Leslie sighs, then her voice goes soft, “I mean it. Take care of yourself. We’re thinking of you, kiddo. Oh, and Molly says hi.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “...Well, let Molly know I said ‘Hi’ back.”

“Will do. Okay, see you next week.”

You hang up.

✷𓃞 ✷

It’s damp. The fallen leaves are starting to rot and turn mushy under their boots. Jack tears through another can with their claws and downs a mixture of soup and soaked-through chicken. They drink, grinding the sinewy chicken and too-soft between their teeth, swallowing harshly and curling up at the taste. Police swarming the woods like ants to fruit has been awful; Jack is tired. Everything burns, they’re tired of running, and they’re still so hungry.

Other foods are necessary to Jack’s diet—they can’t live off meat. They need carbs and stuff—but if Jack has to spend more time seeing faces, they will start digging for their kidneys. They collapse underneath a fallen tree, curling up like a woodlouse. If the police find them, Jack just hopes it’s quick.

They can hear men shouting somewhere nearby with their big, angry dogs.

Jack falls asleep there, eventually, and they don’t know what time it is when they wake up, just that it’s dark out again, and it’s so quiet.

They survive off stolen clothing and soup cans between stays at the manor. Though their vision is gone, Jack still lives with psychosis (one would figure getting their eyes melted with hot tar would prevent visual hallucinations). Eating human flesh, though a taboo solution to their symptoms, allowed Jack to clear their mind and function.

Jack sunk deeper under the heavy log when they heard footsteps and a whining dog.

“I know, boy.” A man says, coughing as the air smells of cigarettes.

Jack’s nose burns at the smell. The dog sniffs at the earth and knocks aside a pile of leaves with its nose, whining and howling. The officer kicks aside the leaves and sighs.

“...Alright,” He says, the metal bits of the dog’s vest clicking together as the dog grows restless, thrashing against it.

The man hunches down, the sound of a plastic bag crinkling in his palm, muttering something to the canine.

“Atta-boy. Come on, Chester, it’s damn creepy out here.” With the tug of the leash, the officer and his canine retreat out of the woods.

When the two are out of earshot, Jack squeezes out from under the log and feels around in the dirt, sniffing the air and only smelling wet earth. Their chest tugs in a sickened sort of way, and they sink back into their hiding place and curl up into a ball. The rain picks up again. Wind howls and thunder crackles in the sky, rattling the earth.

Their new jacket, which they snatched off an unsuspecting hiker, was Jack’s only protection from hypothermia stealing the heat from their digits. Jack breathes into their palms, hot air flowing across their stiff fingers (which Jack promptly stuffed into their underarms to warm them up).

The wind doesn't hesitate to rob Jack’s already-deprived body of what little it has. Jack can’t stop thinking about how hungry they are—and how they see faces melting in their periphery whenever their mind wanders. They pick at the raw edges of their sockets in a measly attempt to soothe. It doesn't work. Nothing works anymore, even when Jack can consume human meat. After only a few hours, Jack’s skin is already itching with the need to keep consuming, to keep eating, to stave off their psychosis by any means necessary. They tug—and tug, and tug, and tug until they’re shaking—at their raw skin, where hardened pitch meets seared flesh and patchy brows. It’s unbearably cold, it’s so fucking cold, and going back to that hellish manor sounds like paradise right about now.

But that’s not an option.

✷𓃞 ✷

Tuesday finally comes around, and you can return to work.

You pack two lunches today. Your bag is just leftovers in a takeaway container (dinner from yesterday), and the other is a sandwich with a few slices of Swiss cheese and meat (far more meat than you’ve ever used at once). It’s got other things on it; you aren't going to give some hungry person—who’s probably been living alone in the wilderness for who knows how long—a boring sandwich. Too bad if they don’t like mayo (Well, you hope they like mayo, lest they rip you in two for the offense of a condiment on real-people food).

You fill your water bottle, grab your keys, and head out the door.

Leslie’s truck is humming outside. Your car is still in the lot at work. You were not in any condition to drive after, and Leslie would not have let that happen. She moves her bags as you climb into the passenger seat. You set down your things on the floor, trying to conceal the second lunch you made.

“...Glad to have you back, got everything?” Leslie asks.

You nod, jingling your keys.

She flicks her turn signal to the left and drives onto the road, turning right onto the main road.

The car is quiet, except for the radio playing old 80s hits, thick with the tension that you almost died the last time you went to work.

“You can work wherever you want today. Molly’s willing to work with your plans. I can imagine not wanting to do trail walks after, well, you know what.”

“I’ll be okay,” You say, ”I’ll do trails today. Not a problem.”

Leslie grips the steering wheel tight. “You’re sure? After you know what, I figured you would want to quit,” She turns left, “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m okay.” You say, looking out the window.

Leslie makes some noise like she knows you’re lying. Your brush with death should have turned you off from any outdoorsy work, but here you are, making lunches for the thing that tried to rip you open like an orange. Maybe your too-empathetic and hopeful parts hope this sandwich helps them out. Everything you read about them was far from pleasant—Some of it didn’t seem real.

“A mixture of blood and hot tar poured into the eye sockets.” You recall.

This stuff about Eyeless Jack you read felt like fiction, but what you saw that night was real. God, it sends shivers down your spine, makes you feel ill—you don’t know what you would do if put in that scenario (blinded, abandoned, and left to die in the woods with an insatiable hunger for human flesh? Jack has been active for years, all alone, you think, you’re not sure how you would last even half as long).

“...Did they find anything?”

Leslie sighs. “No. But it’s an animal, so it’ll return next time it’s hungry. We’ve got more people on watch. Hopefully, we can get Wilderness Removal or Animal Control on it, maybe kill it if we have to.”

You hope not. Leave the critter that keeps eating people alone; they should just leave a plate of food out.

“Maybe don’t try to hunt down the wild critter-person like an animal.” You think. The rest of the ride is silent. You pull up to the park and see Molly chatting with a guest. She spots you looking out the window and waves, delighted to see you again.

“I wanted to give you this in case anyone tries giving you trouble.”

She passes you a black cylinder that’s roughly four inches tall. The button on top and the spray nozzle tells you it’s pepper spray.

“...Thanks, Leslie.”

“Anytime.”

You pull on your coat and leave your lunch in the fridge, taking the other out. Then, you jog over to your car and abandon the pepper spray in the cup holder; you hope that this choice won’t get you killed tonight, but you need to start on a good foot.

Your day-to-day rhythm comes back to you. You warmed yourself up on the more populated trails, picking up cans and directing folks about. It’s sparse, only seeing small groups unfazed by the recent killings (perhaps through ignorance or a belief that death is beneath them). The dread is heavier when you walk an empty trail that’s usually lively with people, even during the day, when dangers lurking in the bushes are more visible. As the sun creeps across the sky—and lower towards the horizon—fewer and fewer people choose to risk hiking after dark, lest they get disemboweled like the last guy who tried.

By 19:00, it’s empty. There’s nobody around other than you. But you know they’re still out there, listening to your every movement (and every breath and every hitch).

You scan the edge of the woods where they’re probably hiding, carefully stepping over the foliage while you intentionally stray from the carefully manicured path.

The trails are well-kept. The landscaping crew works diligently and takes pride in their work, keeping them free of debris and roots that would make the footpath a challenging terrain. Beyond the edges of the dirt roads, however, the forest is wild; vines writhe and twist along the floor, every plant fighting for sunlight in the undergrowth, with bigger-than-your-head leaves and trees wearing thick coats of creeping ivy. You witness the cycles of life and death within this delicate ecosystem—young trees climb higher and higher, growing larger and larger; insects feast upon the trees, rely on the trees, live and die by the trees; the trees, after centuries of life, die and rot; the lichen and insects feast on the rotting wood and refresh the cycle anew.

It makes you feel small and insignificant, as the world around you lives and dies without even noticing your existence. It’s like being surrounded by other people’s ideas in a museum, thousands of other people, forgotten by time, remembered by their art, or their shoes, or their stories through other people’s mouths.

Your boot slips on slick earth before you can continue your mental spiral about your insignificance as one among billions. Your boots squeal against pulpy mud and you nearly slip down into a strange recess; the earth is slick with that same slime, though it is more grainy and pus-like in texture. You follow the streaks in the muddy ground, where it slips underneath a large, rotten log.

You shine your light underneath, spotting a shivering, cobalt-blue mask underneath layers of jackets and stolen fabrics.

Maybe they’re sleeping, and waking them up (though with the promise of real people food) may upset them enough to maul you like a bear and eat you for lunch instead.

They shift and wiggle into the recess they carved out for themselves, hearing some shuffling outside of their burrowing. They suck in a deep breath through their nose, and the smell of human sears the insides of their lungs like smoke. They hunch a little bit, curling into a more upward sitting position, sniffing the air, inhaling once, twice, then a third time until they have that scent burned into their hindbrain. They can’t stop drooling, salivating at the thought of finally feeling okay again, having something to cut through the smoky, blurry feeling. They hear shuffling, their prey slinking back as they curled forward. They can’t suppress the growl that rumbles in their throat, teeth licked behind the mask. They don’t move like a person in preparation for a chase. Jack slips out of their nook, their body curled forward and arms hanging limp.

Jack reaches up and peels the mask like a second skin, revealing tar-filled sockets that bore down at your scent.

Jack lurches forward like they’re on a leash, sinking their claws into your arm and digging in, etching out five deep grooves, each weeping a stream of blood that makes Jack’s mind run wild. Without thinking entirely, Jack pulls your arm forward and sinks their teeth into your bicep, leaning their body weight against you, knocking you both to the floor. There’s kicking and screaming, high-pitched whining as Jack’s teeth tear through skin and sinew, coating your arm in blood and spit.

You cry out, trying to pull their steel trap of a jaw out of your arm—managing to loosen their upper jaw, and by shoving them away with the heel of your palm, you manage to rip out their lower jaw, too.

They shiver, licking their teeth over and over again. Feral, animalistic delight rattles their whole body; they’re giddy at the taste of your blood, but they hold some restraint at the sound of their name.

Your breathing is frantic, and your heart is hammering in your throat. Jack’s breathing slows, and they quit licking their teeth. You’re not sure where to start. You hold your breath as Jack’s tar-filled sockets bore down into yours. Their breathing is heavy, and there’s saliva dribbling down their chin. You squeeze your arm, your skin clammy with blood and sweat, while Jack stays still above you.

Your mouth is nailed and twisted shut like you’re at the morgue. Jack doesn’t finch as they, strangely again, don’t tear you to shreds like the last guy. You sigh, which comes out as an exasperated laugh, your chest squirming like a bucket of mealworms as Jack’s warm, blood-soaked breath enters your nose. Their hair is long and matted, greasy and cool-brown in color; their skin is a deep gray like the living dead, bulked up by layers of stolen sweaters and pants to keep warm.

“I, uhh…” You start, “I brought you a sandwich if you want it. I didn't know what you liked, so I just put a little bit of ever—”

Jack’s knee presses into your ribcage as they climb over you, feeling around on the ground for your bag. A wheeze rattles from your throat, and they dump your belongings onto the forest floor unceremoniously, sniffing the contents like a tracker hound.

They pinch the bag between their claws, disemboweling the brown paper bag, the contents hitting the floor with a wet thud.

You watch them eat, tearing through plastic and paper with their teeth, eating with no sensibility nor dignity. The sandwich is shoved into their mouth and swallowed in about fifteen seconds, and a crushed bag of potato chips you forgot at the bottom of your bag perishes, too. They crack open the plastic container full of your dinner and hesitate, neck craned in your direction. It takes a few moments to find them, but Jack finds the metal utensils you packed for yourself, showing the container to you.

“Oh, well, yeah. That’s mine. My dinner, I mean. You can have it if you want.”

They shake their head in a fit.

They push it in your direction, a flatly affective expression on the remainder of their face, but their body language pushes your cold leftovers on you with a lot of force. You gingerly take the container from their claws, crack it open, and eat. Jack listens attentively to you, sockets trained on you, on the sound of metal utensils clinking against your mouth, the sound of you swallowing your meal. Their hands squirm and play with the dirt and leaves, excited to share a meal of leftovers with somebody they nearly killed twice. Your arm is throbbing as you carefully feed yourself, your jacket’s sleeve shredded. Hopefully, your emergency fund can cover a trip to the hospital for however many stitches you’ll need, as well as the antibiotics you’ll be taking (or paying for amputation if this gets infected, but you try not to think about that as this demonic forest creature is enraptured by you eating supper with them). You scrape the bottom of the container, not missing a single morsel.

They move their hand under their chin, and you recognize what Jack is doing. You took a few classes in uni, so you pick up on the ASL as soon as their hand collides with the other in a neat thank you.

“Oh! You’re welcome,” You say, “Was it good? I was worried if you liked mayo or not.”

They grin. It’s small, subtle, and hard to do with the tar seared to their skin, but there’s a quiet peek of teeth as they chuckle at being understood. They like mayo.

You laugh, too, exhausted and relieved. After so many restless nights worrying about getting your organs surgically removed in your sleep, you’re looking forward to a restful night after the day you’ve had. At the hospital, because you’re arm is looking pretty ugly.

“Look, I think I have to go.”

They tense up.

“I won’t tell anyone about you, I promise,” You sigh, trying not to look down at your bloody limb, “They’re still looking for you, though, so be careful. If you need food, I can try to sneak you some from Lost & Found.”

Jack pats at their pocket, pulling out an old, beat-up phone. They pass it to you, and you type out your number and put it into a contact.

“I’ll, hopefully, see you soon?”

They shrug. It’s probably for the best that they don’t make any promises. Jack walks into the treeline, eventually disappearing from view.

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #24

Growing Pains

Even the yams belong to the Dimmadomes...

Hazels' cute ladybug phone! I still like how we can't tell if it's a Dimmadome brand. Everyone else likes to flaunt logos, but Hazel's just there.

Aw, Hazel's gotten over her jealousy towards her brother's girlfriend taking up his time and thinks they're cute together. I'm so glad we get to see a sibling relationship like this.

"What's a good idea? Aging??" - Antony, unaware Hazel's about to age up with magic to see a PG-13 movie.

Okay, so... I'm gonna note down Wanda's comment that she and Cosmo were "teenagers in the 1590s." Obviously that's not true even in this show's canon since Cosmo and Wanda have been married for 10k, 20k years.

... Actually, did they say they'd been married that long in this show? They keep talking about their 10k-year vacation, not their marriage.

Point being, I'm going to try sussing out Peri's New Wish age at a later date using some information, though my 'fics will stick to my already established timeline.

There's a Dancing Tarantula movie AND a Crimson Chin movie? Dev's probably been in and out of this theater a lot lately, because those posters match the ones in his room. I wonder if he has a private theater and exclusive screening rights.

Queen.

Why do I get the feeling they're about to drop Fairy puberty info on Hazel and they probably gave this talk to Peri while posed in a similar way? oh no.

I don't think this is something I'll include in my canon because it doesn't fit my Fairy biology and I already have my own established puberty stuff in 'fic, but I admire the goofiness.

-> But I'm glad I got to hear them talk about pheromones / fairymones, because I definitely use those and it makes me laugh. Insect people...

Btw, "tons of red splashy sauce on body" is really bad on my hemophobia, so I'm censoring the screenshots.

This is so funny to me. Concerned dad gives The Talk.

They're cute. Very shape.

slkdjf, Peri watching Hazel on the news. I love how he squirms his legs uncomfortably- "Oooh... Pasta puberty. I do not miss that."

Is he at his parents' place, avoiding Dev? Or is this his room?

I'm pretty sure he's at Cosmo and Wanda's. You can tell from the stars on the stairwell behind him, plus I remember a couch that made me think of Princess Peach, AND they had a window on that wall overlooking Fairy World.

Between this and "Multiverse" (the other of its pair)... Not sure I love the implication that after the Irep drama, Dev's not been taking Peri to school and Peri's not making the effort to be near him. Uh-oh...

They really are like exes who can't stand to be under the same roof, for real, for real.

Alternate explanation: Peri's on his lunch break.

Maybe he's tracking Dev's phone, waiting 'til he's needed.

?? Is that how everyone in this show holds forks? Because I seem to remember Poof flip-flopping through ambidexterity before settling in with right-handedness after left-handed Foop was born, and it's very funny to see Poof hold his fork with his presumed less dominant fist.

I get the purpose of making the item easy to draw by having it face us, but I laugh.

Now that I think about it (in retrospect after Peri bragged about how he'd been following Dev around even after he quit)... I like how Peri thinks his parents hover too much and then he also hovers too much.

Geez, fairy kids have it rough. Terrible Twos, pooferty, and now this? Apparently growing into your magic just wrecks you.

Also, I want a 'fic about Hazel's parents inviting Cosmo, Wanda, and their son over and everyone (especially Antony who probably thinks he's Peri's age) just asks Peri a bunch of questions about if he's doing school or a job or whatever and he's just /laughs nervously.

Hazel's parents are so good to her and they've clearly taught her to communicate well and politely set boundaries. The contrast between them and Clark and Connie Carmichael is hilarious.

I'm glad Cosmo and Wanda have no sense of things Hazel would find gross.

This and "Multiverse of Jenkins" were really fun filler episodes!

[greentrickster]

One of the risks of the current situation that wasn't present in the canon universe is that there are a decent number of people in power who know about the miraculous and - more importantly - the general sort of item they disguise themselves as when not activated. Meaning that Chloe suddenly deciding to sport a comb in her hair after the bee miraculous has been stolen and someone has been seen using it could get her caught instantly, especially since the person she stole it from was her mother.

Fortunately, the bee's disguise form is a bit more subtle for Chloe than it is in canon (since she's not actively trying to be known as a hero in this setting), and it turns a golden colour with an elegant little bee mixed in with a lot of filigree. This is also where it comes in handy to have a major fashion designer as the head of your resistance. Gabriel gets a couple combs made that look like the bee miraculous's disguised form when Chloe wears it, sends them home with her to get people used to her wearing a hair comb openly, but so that if her parents notice and make her hand it over, it's safe to do so because it's just a regular comb. This turns out to be a good call, because it absolutely gets yanked out of her hair the first time her mother spots her wearing it.

a_real_nowhere_man Nino being Chaotic Good makes a lot of sense. I kind of want to hear more about the shenanigans that ensue that would lead to Nino being an enabler, how was it discovered that he does not in fact count as adult supervision?

Thanks! And he's one of those chaos gremlins who tends to fly under the radar because he doesn't tend to start chaos, but he absolutely encourages it if it's to his taste. Shady wants to use Claw as a projectile weapon? Bet you can't throw him to the roof of that building. Claw's expressing his hatred of pigeons? Nino's making an AMV of pigeon videos with a killer score just for him to send next time Claw's being a pain. Chloe's shirking a little bit to fix her make-up? Nino's always wanted to be more beautiful (I'd say just regular beautiful but, let's be real, boy already is beautiful).

Alya can be a lot of fun too, but she's very detail-oriented and the sort to triple-check her sources; she's very much the first mate to Hesperia's captain. Nino's the heart of the group, though, with a baseline positive attitude that's very comforting (especially to Gabriel since, you know, constantly-on empathy powers). A good resistance needs a lot of planning and order, but a great one also needs a bit of benevolent chaos, and Nino's here for that.

It's also why, when Gabriel gives Chloe a couple spare combs (so she can say it's a set and actually wear more than one at once if she wants, helping to hide the bee miraculous in plain sight even further), and she gives one to Nino as a sort of 'here, we're friends now' token, he does stick the comb in his beanie and start wearing it.

(Note: Chloe and Sabrina aren't friends in this AU, as Lila joined the school much earlier in this timeline and managed to steal her away to be her flunky instead of Chloe's. Also, the reveal about Lila from the end of season five is non-canon in this AU, just because that was a push too far for my personal suspension of disbelief to handle.)

Anyway, the point is, Nino is Chloe's favorite of the new group and Alya can't even be fully mad about it because, frankly, he's everyone's favorite in the group. Well, except for Hesperia; Gabriel doesn't play favorites with the group (and if he had to pick a favorite kid it would be his son, anyway, though he is rather fond of Claw as well).

[picnokinesis]

OC Ship Song Tag

Tagged by @gabeorelse - ahh thank you!! Okay this will be fun because I don't tend to talk about my ocs much here

Rules: list the ships of your wip (canon or otherwise!) and the song that "describes" your ship, or that would be used for a fan edit of the ship.

This is a bit complicated because actually a lot of my wip projects aren't exactly shippy, especially since I am trying to write predominantly aromantic stories - but Gabe said I could do platonic or single characters if I wanted to 😌 I think what I'm actually gonna do is songs for the characters who , if I had a fandom, people would end up shipping lol. I'm gonna do these for Onkalo because I think that's got the most to going on (and also the longest playlist haha) and actually I think it'll be funny to do this by how common or rare I think the pairing would be hahah

For those who don't know: Onkalo is my original tv series concept set in several hundred years after the collapse of our civilisation. It follows Peregrine, a grief-stricken father who dedicates himself to finding Onkalo, a mythological structure buried under the ground that is said to contain an item of great power. He believes that he can use whatever is inside to protect his son, Ash. On the flip side, Ash, who believes he has been abandoned by his dad, sets off to find him after a disaster destroys their community.

Harper/Reo or Harper & Reo - these two are basically my og spydoc - childhood friends who bonded in adverse circumstances, but then Harper manages to escape the Bad Situation, and Reo is left to suffer the consequences. Reo ends up becoming something of an antagonist, bitter and set on making Harper pay, whilst Harper becomes a semi-parental figure to Ash as he looks for his dad (she is absolutely terrible at it). But, eventually, Reo choses to help Harper, Ash and Connie escape, and sticks with them. It's not completely smooth going, but fundamentally they missed Harper and their friendship too much. If any ship is canon in this show, it's these two.

Songs: Go Down Together by Foxing or La Lune by Madeon for more shippy fandomy stuff, but Sink by Brand New is my song for them, and it's a lot angrier. However, in the show, I'm 100% intending to have the very intense sequence of Reo and the others escaping be set to The Bike Song by Mark Ronson and The Business Intl, because bikes are involved and I'm hilarious - so if anyone set a video to that song, they would absolutely correct.

Peregrine/Caleb or Peregrine & Caleb - the canonical-ness of this one is very muddy, because I'm fighting with my fascination over their dynamic and how they do or don't feel about each other, and my overwhelming desire for this show to be as aromantic as possible. As it stands, Peregrine is entirely driven by his grief and guilt surrounding the death of his wife, Heather, but if he wasn't, then he'd be open to it. I reckon Caleb has a hell of a crush but will take it to his grave. As it happens, they're super doomed by the narrative and almost certainly not going to survive anyhow. However, I reckon if there was a fandom, this would be one of the Big Ships because I know what fandom is like.

Song: Wild Country by Wake Owl

Peregrine & Ash - the relationship between these two is so mired with desperate, familial love and aching anger. Ash wants to hate his dad, but fundamentally he still travels across the country to find him. Peregrine is so driven by the need to protect his son like he couldn't protect his wife that he completely abandons his son to hunt down a folktale that ends up killing him.

Songs: Above the Clouds of Pompeii by Bear's Den, and Welly Boots by The Amazing Devil

Harper & Connie or Harper/Connie- I think anyone who ships this would be so galaxy brained, tbh, but Harper and Connie both travel with Ash and lowkey become his stand-in parental figures, but not in any standard sort of way. Harper is like, reluctant dad figure, and Connie is the only person with the braincell. I reckon the appeal of this one is that this is that they're both people who have been defined by their own communities and families, but in very different ways. I think Harper would learn a lot about what family can be from Connie, and Connie would learn to blame herself less from Harper. People who ship Harper/Connie/Reo would be even MORE galaxy-brained, but adding Reo into the mix would make the whole thing a bit more rancid, bless. I think Connie and Reo would actually be super interesting.

Songs: if it's just Harper/Connie, it's Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hellos (this one also works really well for Peregrine and Caleb too). If it's Harper/Connie/Reo....ooh, it would probably be Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos, with Reo being the soldier, Harper being the poet and Connie being the king. Okay damn I lowkey love how that works, like non-romantically.

Connie & Peregrine or Connie/Peregrine- Peregrine actually meets both Harper and Connie on separate occasions earlier in the plot. The dynamic between Harper and Peregrine is lowkey hilarious to me, because I'm pretty sure they look at each other and go 'oh, yikes' and leave it at that. Connie and Peregrine actually get on really well, though, and hang out together for a long while. Peregrine is allergic to nice things though, and actively avoids making new emotional ties. With Caleb, he fails drastically - but he also fails regarding Connie too. Con actually wanted him to stick around, but he tricks her into getting left behind (because he's an ASS, but actually it's mainly because he didn't want her to die/get hurt. And it's a good thing tbh because by the next episode he's captured by an amnesia cult who try to lobotomise him, so....). Anyway, I think both Caleb and Connie are people that Peregrine could have learnt to overcome his grief with, in a different world. I think Connie and Peregrine in particular find common ground in how much their communities mean to them. They are both driven on journeys, spurned by grief and guilt - but for Connie, she still remains in orbit of her family, whereas Peregrine has isolated himself entirely. I feel like not so many people would ship this, but I'm soft about it

Ship Song: I Will Remain by Matthew and the Atlas

Peregrine/Heather - the only CANON ROMANCE, but I killed it lol because Heather is dead from the start. She haunts this entire series, but her relationship with Peregrine is SO IMPORTANT because it drives the entire plot. I love them both a lot augh

Ship song: You Are a Memory by Message to Bears

That ended up SUPER LONG and also won't make sense to anyone probably rip, but!! Here it is!

Tagging - this is obviously optional, and feel free to make this about fandom characters instead if you like! But! @taardisblue, @novantinuum, @chaoticacecryptid, @subducting, @agendergorgon (I think you have ocs? For worm?)

THANKS GABE!

[cfr749]

I totally, totally agree with your view of their relationship. The Barnes episode is one I can’t watch and I just pretend it doesn’t exist. The whole situation with Chris and Ashley was just…unnecessary and written horribly. I feel like Tim treated Lucy better when he was her TO and respected her and didn’t treat her like a child which is mainly what he does now. He became more patronizing AFTER she was no longer his rookie. Additionally, he didn’t say anything after Lucy told him he would do great in Metro - just gave her a half smile and left. He acted like a teenager during the Valentine’s episode when he gave her the silent treatment when he found out she did the five-player trade. And it ended with LUCY apologizing and Tim never once apologizing for his immature behavior. He also treated her horribly in the episode when Isabel came back. He invited her to LUCY’S apartment without asking Lucy, gave her a half-hearted apology only when Isabel was AT THE DOOR and then proceeded to joke around with his ex-wife ABOUT Lucy and IN FRONT of Lucy and then regressed to his TO voice with his “Chen!” later at the station, right after making fun of Lucy trying to help him relax. Like, hello, that’s your girlfriend! Why are you snapping at her when she didn’t do anything??? Chris was absolutely a shitty partner but Tim is a becoming a very, very close second. He treated her better when she was his rookie and especially before they dated. And im so bummed about it because I had such high hopes but the way they write Tim’s character is just ruining it for me.

Hi anon!

First off, I'm glad you got to get all of that off of your chest 😂. I know how isolating and frustrating it can be to have all of the feelings about choices the show is making, but feel like you can't share those frustrations without pissing people off or experiencing backlash. So while I can't control anything other than my own response, I'll just say, you're always welcome to vent to me!

I'll be honest and say I didn't notice / react to all of the things you mentioned in the same way, but I can see your points and understand why those moments may have rubbed you the wrong way. Especially since, like I mentioned in my last post, the issue isn't any 1 isolated incident. The issue is a repeated pattern in the storytelling and messaging.

Something I want to be clear about before I go any further though:

This is not about my head canons or what I'd like to believe the writers were trying to convey.

Of course I think the idea of Lucy liking Tim more than Tim likes Lucy is ridiculous. That's why I can't figure out what on earth the writers were doing.

Of course I don't hate Tim (I literally could never!!) --- I love both of these characters deeply, and close to nothing excites me more than the idea of the two of them falling in love.

This is specifically about choices the writers made and what we actually saw unfold on our screens.

And if my takes seem to be more pro-Lucy, that's specifically because, IMO, the way the story unfolded was much more favorable to Tim that it was too Lucy.

Which isn't even surprising. Women often get the short end of the stick. Women of color almost always do. And that is literally the entire point of why this conversation is important. It's why shrugging off repeated instances of Lucy's character being eroded in service of the ship or maybe just as a result of the thoughtlessness of the writers really bothers me. It's why I'm not the only one who feels this way.

So, anon, for now, I'm just going to dig into the first item you mentioned as one of the first examples of this pattern -- the Katie Barnes of it all (sorry Katie - you were lovely - I promise it's nothing personal 😂). Setting aside the confession prank in 3x09 (which is it's own essay), this was the first time I started to really question the direction the show was going with making the ship canon. At the time, I hoped it was a blip, because we all remember that look in 3x14, and... yeah.

I believe this was the first appearance of jealous Lucy. And don't get me wrong, I have no problem with using jealousy to tell a story -- as long as it serves a purpose and as long as it's not completely 1-sided.

But instead of moving Chenford forward, this actually moved them several steps backward for me.

Like you mention anon, in seasons 1 and 2, despite Lucy being his rookie, I felt that they were very much portrayed as equals. They helped each other in different ways. I’d argue Lucy often showed she was more emotionally intelligent than Tim and used that to help him navigate through the end of his marriage, and Tim obviously poured everything he had into getting her as ready as she possibly could be to move on to the next step in her career.

But this scene in 3x11 managed to re-assert the Rookie - T.O. dynamic in a way that slapped me harder than any moment when he was actually her T.O. -- asserting Tim's view of Lucy as someone he needed to teach not how to be a capable police officer, but someone he needed to teach about the world.

He said this to Lucy. Lucy! LUCY!

If you don't understand why this is categorically absurd, please go re-watch season 1 right now.

The fact that it was couched in compliments and we got to see Lucy go squee over his praise doesn't make this any less patronizing.

Literally, I don't need to hear any man say this to any woman ever. I especially don't need to hear a white man saying it to a woman of color. And I sure as hell did not need to hear Tim say it to Lucy.

So where'd we end up?

Lucy took some major hits to her character, blurring the lines between personal and professional by accusing Tim of giving Katie special treatment because he found her attractive, and ultimately came off as jealous, immature, insecure, and unprofessional amongst probably some other less than flattering things. And note, I'm not saying I think she is these things. I'm saying she was portrayed to the general audience as being these things.

Tim, on the other hand, got a windfall -- not only did he get to be the wise, all knowing teacher (let's not forget his deep love of meditation), he got to have all his past sins erased under the guise of helping sweet Lucy understand the world is a scary place.

***

So obviously you mentioned a bunch of other examples, but this is already too long and probably not at all what you were looking for in a response, so I'm going to wrap up here. I got another ask about the Valentine's Day plot, so I'll tackle what I did and didn't like there eventually (yes, I am capable of liking things. it's rare, but possible).

Thanks for the ask! 🥰🥰🥰

[canyon-tale]

Long time no see :3

I come with new questions!

* what claims does Error have?

* what do the bad sanses think of Cross and Epic being together? Especially since they don't have kids together

* i'd love to hear more about Blue, i haven't asked much about him

* is Ink romantically involved with anyone? is he aroace like canon?

* does Geno exist? what is he like? does he have a brotherly bond with Fresh and Error?

* do dragons follow the rule of males being more colorful to attract females?

Happy to see you back, I always love answering your questions :D

Gonna stick them under a Read More again, but enjoy and let me know if you have any follow up questions! <3

What claims does Error have?

Error is a bit of a mix bag of magic elements tbh, mostly cuz I want to include all his eye colours XD His main claim is Carnage, and he is a demi god of that element to aid the Maid of Bones. He has a light and water sub claims as well, most likely due to either carrying or having absorbed magic items. He also has a slight connection to the Void, but he’s also terrified of the Void realm and magic.

What do the bad Sanses think of Cross and Epic being together? Especially since they don't have kids together

They were VERY suspicious about Epic when they realised who he was and that Cross had picked him as a talonmate. Epic is technically Cross’ first mate, he just didn’t talk about Epic to the others because while he loves them it was also kind of nice to disconnect from the Nights and Stars from time to time. Cross is probably the most relaxed and dorky when with Epic because Epic gives the same energy back.

When the other’s did find out about their relationship they were all basically like over protective parents, following Epic around, doing background checks, questioning him once Cross actually invited him to the dens, etc. Epic was none too phased about it, but Cross was a bit embarrassed XD

Even while they were all cold towards him at first they all eventually warmed up to him. Nightmare was the last, but when Cross came to him to ask if he could help with Epic’s eye and nightmares he kind of developed a soft spot for him.

Epic actually ends up joining the Night flight eventually! The other’s are very relaxed and open minded so they never take issue with them becoming heartmates despite not wanting eggs together.

I’d love to hear more about Blue, i haven't asked much about him

Blue is a lightning guardian! He was very determined to join the royal flight and capture a human someday, but those ideas changed when he came across a few books about dragons and human riders. He’s been enamoured by the idea of having a human partner ever since, but he still keeps up the act of wanting to fight one instead.

His brother is a fire scout who was sure Blue would end up as a nurse due to his sweet and caring character, and was a little alarmed when Blue started growing scales and became a guardian. Little Blue is very determined to be a royal guard after all uvu

Is Ink romantically involved with anyone? Is he aroace like canon?

He is aroace! He’s technically talonmates with Dream and Blue, but it’s more a queer platonic relationship and doesn't follow the traditional definition of talons. He’s of course also thornmates with Error, and I’m playing with the idea of him being at least wingmates with Cross since I like the two of them having some kind of bond.

Does Geno exist? What is he like? Does he have a brotherly bond with Fresh and Error?

He does! He’s stuck in the Void but I haven’t thought too much of his side of the story yet. I think I’d like him to have some kind of connection to Fresh and Error, probably mostly Fresh at the start since I can see Error being terrified of the Void.

Do dragons follow the rule of males being more colorful to attract females?

No, mostly cuz there are no biological males and females since the dragons are hermaphrodites. There’s definitely dragons with similar traits though, they’re just more randomly genetic than anything else.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Hihi!!! For any of yours:

Who would your OC say is their best friend?

Which canon character doesn’t respect your OC whatsoever?

Thank you!

HIII!!!!!! Thank you so much for the ask ^^ and for answering mine!! Throwwwwing it under a cut bc I can never talk about Vizzie without talking about Angst so TW for child death/murder <3 also mention of Weed/stoner (not Vizzie)

Who would your OC say is their best friend?

Vizzie:

If she's being honest with herself, she would say it's the childhood best friend Kai, which uh. She. Killed. When they were 8. But in TWST...I think the way she qualifies "best friend" is who makes her happiest to be around. So even though he's more of a little brother figure before a best friend, Ortho is her lil buddy. She adores him. But if we cut out the familial bonding (so Leona is out of the picture too), I think she would consider her best friend Deuce. (They end up being metamours in the future which is even better). But he's relatively quiet when it's just him without Ace, which is nice for her. She likes to help him study, and he lets her speak her notes out loud so the lessons stick with her easier. They both struggle with emotional regulation to varying degrees, and in her canon she's the one who collaborates with Vil to get Deuce and Epel Gremlin Bells for their blastcycles ^^ Aspen:

Sam, lol. They were roommates together (to me, both in Pomefiore). They've been inseparable since their first year. I recently wrote a silly little ficlet where Aspen is involved ^^ Cory:

Epel!! Fellow Short First year struggling with gender identity and orientation while also being scouted by Vil OTL. While Cory considers Epel his best friend, Epel does not see him the same way, mostly because he barely knows the guy! Cory is very awkward and isn't used to interacting with folks, as a firefish mer, he rather enjoys hiding away. So just one or two positive interactions will have this guy believing you're BEST of friends.

Paisley:

His SHAZAM! figurine. 10/10 comfort item, and he can hold it while his (adoptive) papa Vargas is carrying him. Who is also his best friend. Vizzie is a big sister figure so he's chill with her too, but thats about it.

Which canon character doesn’t respect your OC whatsoever?

Vizzie:

Rollo. He can't wrap his head around why she would ever forgive magic users, especially when he clocks her vambraces having been put on her by force via a magic user. She can't even hate him back, because she sees so much of her old self in him by the time they meet, she just hopes that one day he can free himself of the hatred he carries, because she knows deep down it's internalized guilt and a coping mechanism.

Aspen:

Crewel hates my stoner half fae dude with a passion. Crewel worked hard for everything he achieved, Aspen is a gifted kid. Crewel tries to be protective and nurturing with his students, but they all choose to go to Aspen instead. Crewel very desperately wants to have buy in with the student body like Aspen does but tries to hide it.

Cory:

It's not that Vil disrespects him, he just feels like Vil pushes his boundaries a little too much for him to be comfortable around Schoenheit. He knows he's cute but gods Vil, he hates the cameras and having attention on him via social media.

Paisley:

Everybody Respects The Child Or Else

Thanks again for the ask ^^

[bedeliainwonderland]

thoughts on Hannigram?;)

Hello :) I have the tag filtered so that’s should tell you everything. There are only that many hot takes on Hannibal wearing flannel and having dogs one can read before wanting to stick a pencil in one’s eye…

Can’t stand it, because fans make both of them so out of character (and I don’t even care about Will lol). Now I probably wouldn’t have such strong ~feelings if the fans were more civil, and the show creator hadn’t decided he loved being worshipped by that specific (albeit small) group of people and cater to them specifically, compromising the show in the process. I liked season one and Hannibal’s and Will’s dynamic there. But then it just got more and more ridiculous. Even more so, the fans are always bending themselves backwards to make their ship work, applying “logic” that for some reason does not work for other characters and ships. I am not even getting into the hate on female characters, especially Bedelia (Alana is cool now that’s she’s a lesbian), since she was intimate with Hannibal (I mean, the above fans will tell you they were never a thing…).

I’ve said it before, sure Hannibal “loves” Will, the same way one loves a favourite book or other item. You love it and you don’t want anyone else to have it but you don’t expect it to reciprocate the feelings since it’s an object. Will is this shiny blank canvas Hannibal can project himself onto (boy loves nothing more than looking at himself). Like Narcissus, quite literally given the outcome.

Logically speaking, despite the creator’s efforts, and fandom delusions, the ship was never canon (there was no “kiss” or whatever) and that’s that. People putting it on some insane pedestal of canon queer ships to look up should think again.

[bonefall]

having read a lot of your ideas in one sitting (lol) I'm so excited for your redux of avos. it's not one of my favorite arcs per se, but needletail is one of my favorite characters and I'm confident you can do her justice, especially in making her a POV character!!! With that in mind I was wondering, do you have anything in mind for sleekwhisker? does she stick by the kin to the bitter end like in canon, or does she just become an unwilling participant? does she die early? do you think of her with the possibility of becoming a multifaceted antagonist along breezepelt lines or just a rogue nuisance after the fact? anyway, love your work! keep fighting the good fight!

Thank you so much!! AVoS is going to be the hardest arc to rewrite. I feel like the original arc has such a heinous takeaway that I've actually done things in previous arcs specifically to soften the blow of AVoS; The Sisters, the Tribe, and BloodClan all got a ton of sociological attention to detail so that the Kin would be an outlier.

I mentioned Sleekwhisker once before! I updated this overview post with a link to it, plus the Breezepelt ideas. But I'll talk more specifically about Sleek here

To answer your questions

The Apprentices

There's a specific scene at the start of AVoS that bugs me, where Sleekwhisker basically says, "It doesn't matter where a person is born" and it's kinda framed like it's... bad? Especially in the context of saying this to Alderheart, both Tigerkin and kittypet-blooded (through Jessie in this rewrite), who is anxious at his first Gathering.

It SHOULD be a radical statement, but one born out of goodness. In general, the ShadowClan apprentices don't actually believe in any principles and that bothers me.

So I want to approach them, and Sleekpaw at their head, as being CORRECT about some of their initial ideas.

They're sick of not being helped by other Clans. They're tired of the way they're subjected to bad leaders. They hate being told they can't have outsider friends. They're right. They don't know how to word their discontent but they DO HAVE LEGITIMATE REASONS FOR FEELING HOW THEY DO

But the problem was Darktail. They trusted the wrong person, someone who exploited them for his own gains. He creates a coalition of ex-DF trainees, discontented young cats, half-clanners, and exploits them like a cult.

Sleekwhisker

So, with her, I want to thread a needle (heh). The person at the beginning of AVoS would HATE the person she eventually becomes. At the start of AVoS, Sleekpaw is the leader of the ShadowClan apprentices, the brightest, a rising prodigy. She speaks about how the Clans aren't so different, how it shouldn't matter where you're born, and how "something has to be done".

If it wasn't for Darktail, if someone had been able to save her, Sleekwhisker might have even been a new Firestar.

But that's not what happens. Over time, Darktail changes her into his right-hand man, slowly turning her against her friends and her ideals. This culminates in her drowning Needletail.

See though, I'm not sure what the steps are for that yet though. Hollyleaf over in Bonefall Po3 has a pretty decent 'roadmap' for how she gets from the prodigal apprentice she was at the beginning to the murderous, revenge-seeking warrior she will become. But Sleekwhisker? I don't have that yet.

Just a knowledge of the character arc I want her to have, in the end.

And I know that Breezepelt will see Sleekwhisker specifically, and recognize himself in her. I think that should really twist his gut, to know that he was complicit in the destruction of this young warrior. Just like the adults in his life were to him, just one arc before.

Other Stuff

I would like to make it official that Sleekwhisker and Raven are an item, but I've been making sure there's lots of other gay rep before I do that.

I have three solid MLM couples (Smokefoot x Talonclaw, Runningwind x Redtail, Stonepelt x Weedwhisker)

One solid WLW couple (Sunstrike x Furzepelt)

And a lot of other queer dynamics (Bluestar @ Oakheart & Lizardstripe, Hollyleaf's Secret Tunnel Friends, Ivypool and Blossomfall, Aroace Firestar, whatever the hell is going on between Brokenstar and Runningnose, Sparkpelt and Hollylark, Mothwing)

But I want more solid, healthy WLW couples before adding Sleekwhisker x Raven officially. Maybe my standards are just too high? In any case I intend for them to be a couple.

And to answer some more of your questions more directly;

-How long does she stick with the Kin?

To the bitter end, like canon. She's too far gone and can't be saved; and in any future appearances will continue to be a problem in some capacity.

We're going to have to see what the future arcs do with her, too. As you know, I stick close to canon and rework the major events, and Sleekwhisker is still out there in the world. There's a chance, in any given new book, that she could pop up again; so I can't work her into the TBC arc, or even ASC when it's complete if she doesn't pop up.

I will say though if we go through enough arcs that it does look like they've just utterly dropped her as a character, the Bonefall Rewrite WILL give her an actual conclusion to her arc.

-Rogue Nuisance or Multifaceted Antagonist?

Well, to begin with, the Kin has a LOT less non-Clan rogues. I'm capping them to 6, not including Darktail himself. Most of them are going to be warrior-named and Clanborn; I am not going to tolerate the idea that every villain can just conjure up a bunch of random rogue bodies to use for Nefarious Deeds.

(Kin starter pack: Flame, Nettle, Rain, Raven, Roach, Dragonfly. Consider all others cut; IF Zelda, Loki, and Max don't get chopped they will be combined with Jacques and Susan.)

So if Sleekwhisker is ever a 'rogue nuisance' it'll always be with the backing of the Kin remnants, and she's the leader of this faction.

Sooo... thinking about it now, hey, maybe she can eventually change over time as she actually learns to lead this group. We'll see how the modern arcs go, and if there's a random new character somewhere who could become an older, wisened Sleekwhisker... or, an aged, even crueler Sleekwhisker. We'll see.

[experthiese]

PUBLIC VS. PRIVATE INFORMATION.

Feel free to refer to this when deciding how much your character should know about Lupin, especially if they're from outside his canon and have no pre-established basis on if/how well they know of each other.

PUBLIC. Accessible to everyone.

He is the grandson of Arsène Lupin, notorious French gentleman thief, and the third generation to continue in this line of work. No treasure is said to be outside of his reach once he's set his sights on it, and as a result he's been granted the title of the world's most wanted thief.

He's a master of disguise, and (much like his predecessors) is able to perfectly mimic another's appearance, voice and mannerisms with minimal observation needed beforehand. Only tiny details, such as his mask not showing sweat where real skin would, are able to give him away.

He is affiliated with Daisuke Jigen, Ishikawa Goemon XIII, Fujiko Mine, Laetitia Bresson, and more (verse/relationship dependent).

His 'eternal rival' is Zenigata Koichi of Interpol, the only man able to consistently capture Lupin, even if it's only for short bursts of time.

Zenigata has arrested and successfully imprisoned him on multiple occasions. However, Lupin has managed to find a way to escape from every single prison he's been put in, often relying on the assistance of his gang.

He's said to be in love with every woman in the world, though his prized paramour is Fujiko. He will never stop trying to win her affections, no matter how often he's betrayed or rejected.

His preferred weapon is a Walther P38 and it's kept on his person at all times.

A calling card is always sent to his chosen target pre-heist, detailing the item to be stolen, and the time/date of his appearance. It's signed with his name and peanut caricature.

He was once married to Rebecca Rossellini, well-known heiress and secret thrill-seeker. When he left Italy to continues his crimes travels, she didn't follow him.

SEMI-PUBLIC. Still accessible, but lesser known.

He's bisexual. His attraction to men is just greatly overshadowed by his womanising.

He's a mostly self-taught polyglot and remains at least conversational no matter where in the world he travels. He's also fluent in some dead and computer languages.

The details sent on his calling card are specific, and he sticks to them rigidly. Lupin will leave the premises once the window has passed, regardless of if he managed to snatch the treasure or not.

He's an art connoisseur and can tell a real piece from a forgery with a single glance.

All car maintenance is done by him. He's very proud of all three of his vehicles, and does his best to keep them in top condition for as long as possible. A lot of his wealth gets re-invested into fixing them up after a heist.

Lupin doesn't kill. That's one of the rules of his game, and it's one that he's unlikely to try and bend. He has people to kill for him, if necessary, but he himself refuses to take a life until it's the only option left.

This no-killing rule is one of the biggest copycat downfalls, and often the thing that gets them discovered. Thief he may be, but Lupin has a strict code of ethics he's set for himself.

He's intelligent. Many underestimate him because of the silly, childish persona he performs, failing to realise that this is not only a deliberate part of his plan, but necessary for his success. Any foe becomes easier to beat when they forget just who they're going up against.

He's a capable scientist, and uses this knowledge for his heists. All of his gadgets, smoke bombs, and knock-out gases are handmade and often re-evaluated to ensure they have maximum efficiency.

He can work any vehicle, be it designed for the land, skies, or water. He's an especially good stunt driver, so naturally prefers to use motorcycles or cars whenever possible.

PRIVATE. Available only to Lupin's closest.

Lupin doesn't dream, nor does he get nightmares. His REM sleep, or if he's even capable of achieving it, remains a mystery to everyone.

He is the legal wife of Onabes, an art collector. Despite his best efforts, the divorce papers were never completed, and thus their marriage remains binding.

The addresses of all his safehouses. In order to remain untraceable, Lupin's constantly selling off property and purchasing new ones, and rarely bothers to inform anyone about these developments unless necessary. His chosen locations range from penthouse city apartments, to countryside mansions the size of a small village, to cozy coastal bungalows. He has hideouts in every conceivable corner of the earth.

He's afraid of octopi, squid, and similar cephalopods. They freak him out big time.

Lupin will, on occasion, allow Zenigata's men to "recover" the occasional stolen artefact. Usually these are ones of historical/cultural significance or gems that he just can't sell for a good price. He has no interest in keeping these items; they've already served their purpose and gone to show that he can take them.

He sneaks into Interpol a lot. He's always disguised as different people of varying levels of importance, and loves to catch up on the latest water cooler gossip (and start some of his own). As a result, he's gotten a pretty good understanding of a lot of Interpol officers and knows more than they'd probably want him to.

All of Lupin's heists and their accompanying details (such as maps, blueprints, security routes, required technology and disguises) are all written down on paper and kept on Lupin's person. He's done far too much hacking to trust any sort of digital security system.

[sky-squido]

I FINALLY BEAT THE BOSS OF THE SECOND DUNGEON IN OOA (which means i got past that room i was stuck on, thank u @pacicidal and @elegantcollectionkoala)

since i'm playing virtual console, i used a lot of save states to warp back to right before the fight to save time on retries and i've never used save states like this before so i had this really weird time loop sense like those fics where a character is trying something over and over again (of course, i would never write something like that) and it was interesting to see what conditions i set for myself to warrant a reset and experiencing the feeling of jumping back into the fight right after the start of the death animation played with new knowledge about how the fight would go down, but refreshed health and bombs, while the boss has no idea who i am and is seeing me for the first time. it just. it's giving me thoughts and feelings about time loops but this time with legend sklfjghsdfgkjsdf squido don't do it don't you dare

anyway i also beat twilight princess!!! (finally) i LOVE LOVE LOVE when you power up the master sword with the sol's in the twilight realm BECAUSE THE GLOW IS SO PRETTY DUDE THE LIGHTING ON THIS GAAAAAME but also i feel like coming back to this game, especially after screwing around in botw, it really hits me how they do a really great job of making the master sword feel like a total light saber and i am HERE for it!! you just feel so strong and powerful, and after having been so weak at the beginning of the game, having to smack things with your wooden stick and it taking forever to kill bokoblins with the ordon sword, just plowing through baddies is SO satisfying.

BUT THEN ALSO IT'S NOT JUST PLOWING THROUGH BADDIES BECAUSE THE COMBAT IS SO GOOD instead of just mashing Y, you're doing back slices and shield bashes and helm splitters and it's so much more fun and engaging and you feel SO COOL pulling it all off and aaaaah i love this game and how STRONG it makes you feel after working so hard to build up all these heart containers and learn all these skills and get and strengthen the master sword. what an adventure.

AND THE PUZZLES DUDE I DIDN'T WANT THE HYRULE CASTLE DUNGEON TO END it was just a playground of puzzles with all my items and shooting the paintings off the walls? clawshotting to the grates on lamps and chandeliers? i feel like this game perfected the art of observation-based puzzles. i feel like so many of the puzzles in this game amount to looking around, looking around differently (as a wolf, from different angles, with different items in mind, reexamining your surroundings and looking for new ways to interact with them) and i LOVE it!! i feel so clever when i finally spot The Thing that i was looking for and i usually endure zelda dungeons to get to the bosses and the story, but this is definitely the most fun i've ever had in zelda dungeons outside of link between worlds. i honestly believe the reason nintendo has deviated from their standard dungeons/items formula and has no intention of returning to it is that twilight princess PERFECTED IT in 3D so they have to try something else now (this is also why i think we haven't gotten a new traditional 2D zelda game in so long—albw perfected 2D zelda dungeon design).

BUT YEAH THEN THE ENDING OF COURSE RIPPED MY HEART OUT OF MY CHEST BECAUSE WHY WOULDN'T IT AND I WILL BE THINKING NONSTOP ABOUT HOW LINK RIDES OFF ON EPONA AND THEN STOPS YES I KNOW IT WAS ORIGINALLY A MISTAKE BUT THEY KEPT IT IN THE HD VERSION SO IT'S CANON NOW, BABY

anyway i love zelda games and I HAVEN'T PLAYED TOTK YET SO DON'T MENTION IT IN YOUR TAGS PLEASE CUZ I DO READ THEM ALL but yeah i'm getting totk soon and also just got minish cap and also i still have oos to play so yaaaaay i am once again feral for zelda games ALSO I CAN FINALLY PLAY ONE OF FOUR'S GAMES AND NOT SUBSIST SOLELY OFF WIKI ENTRIES WHEN WRITING HIM THANK GOODNESS

[limpfisted]

@waterdepths shadowlands was the BEST part of the game

So here's what I'd do. Personally

Basically during the day baldurs gate is DEAD to the world except for poor people on the streets that don't have a place to stay

The absolute is coming. The cultists are coming. The bhaal cultists are out there. It's not safe, not without a steel watcher. Children and women stick to them like glue.

The shops, peoples homes---they only open to u at night for 2 gold pieces. Despite everything, this is a baldurs gate tradition, and actually in the canon lorebooks. Everyone offers sanctuary, or they're traitors and scum called "sinkers." People who should sink to the bottom of a sea, and who i believe are blacklisted and often killed for it.

Shop owners and home owners always defend themselves when ur inside. But instead of singing happy birthday, or saying tongue twisters, they talk about the war, and their fears, politics---people going missing in the upper city, people getting drunk by vampires, seeing people sprout tentacles, seeing nautiloud like flesh walls and spinchters appear in the ground and in their basements (where u can go sometimes to help them fight off the mindflayers trapped there. U find personal items on their person. If u give it back to the person u asked them, they go. Oh God. That was my missing son.)

But also, at night. In the sketchy parts of town. Theres still light and music. (The bards only ever play at night, to lure people into taverns, there's special stuff in the lore books about the fountains and the street lights being so beautiful and magic... and I think the bards are also only allowed to play at night so thars why we didn't see any in the city even tho it's bullshit)

You can ask "thugs" and "pirates" about the various monsters, especially in my favorite tavern which is isnide this big pirate ship run by a cool pirate lady. Even recruit some like the ogres if u have the right amount of coin. They tell u about the flaming fist and the steel watchers, and admit something about them isn't right. They talk about whats inside those things, that smells so funny. Why their voices sound like that. And then each of them actually realizes. It doesn't sound like that to me. Mine sounds kind of like my mother. My childhood crush--a strange, tinny falsetto. Mine sounds like a hoarse dog. A peacock. A zombie, someone says, and they laugh it off. A ghost. And then no one laughs. What does it smell like to you? A body, left out to rot. To most people, that would just smell like rotten pork. But they know. Its a very particular smell, you see. And then the conversation ends, and you leave

Gortash sets you up in the upper city, a nice estate, and there are all kinds of things u and ur party can do there as a little break from the horrors

But also. Its clear there's a lot going on here

The wide is empty, but baldurans statue is there. every time u come back, it's there but in a different place. It always faces u, to greet u

The hall of wonders and the house of wonders, where the gondonians make these beautiful steam dragon creations and there's all kinds of secrets and stuff, seem to be full of people, hard working people. But then u try to talk to them and its revealed they're either doppelganger or tadpol3d. When the doppelganger attack the tadpoled, theyrr too happy to even move to defend themselves as they explode into mind flayers. The place is creepy af also, all weird machines, but stripped for parts that have been all sent to the steel foundry

High hall is cursed with undead dukes of yesteryear, sentencing unlucky prisoners to death. Gortash had kept them subdued, but now they're climbing out of the basement and he wants u to keep them out of his throne room

The famous theater of the spymaster has an audience full of hostages. A mindflayer is eating their brains while projectibg a hivemibd of them alls fantasies on stage, to keep them complacent as he feeds. (Mind fuck fantasy adventures to be had)

I want a whole vampire lords plot, where cazador is ebt3rtianing vampire lords befo4e his cerenoby, and I won't be satisfied unless I get it

Just like. Stuff like that!

In general, baldurs gate is described as having streets so misty and steep and crowded and narrow people aren't even allowed to use wagons or horses. And it's supposed to be a DANG3ROUS CRIME PLACE

Because baldurs gate is about bhaal and irs like infected with death and the death god the guild... theres supposed to be.... so much more. It doesn't even have to be horror. I would prefer it to be horror bc im weird. But I just want. More...