#i’m guessing the last option at the most correct

[garaksapprentice]

Sewing Zero Waste Culottes from The Craft of Clothes

Zero Waste Culottes From The Craft of Clothes

Behold! Fancy pants!

The pattern for these pants was one of my Christmas gifts. It comes from Liz at The Craft of Clothes, a zero-waste designer. I've really gravitated towards self-drafting and zero-waste sewing in the last couple of years, and this pattern has been on my list for a good six months, so I was excited to get into it.

Drafting

The first step (after reading the pattern through twice) is drafting the pattern pieces.

My biggest starting hurdle was deciphering "the culottes are designed to sit on your waist" when choosing the correct pattern size. Most designers consider "the waist" to be the teapot - that is, the true waist. (It's easiest to find if you bend to the side and stick your hand in the crease - like you're singing "I'm a little teapot".) But some consider belly button height to be "the waist". I generally wear my pants at the latter height, and there's a good 2" circumference difference between those two for me.

I eventually decided to call my belly button my waist, on the grounds that that's where I prefer to wear my pants. It's also easier to take seams in than out, if I guessed wrong.

Decisions over, it was smooth sailing from there. Pattern drafting is not a technically difficult process, as long as you have good instructions, and Liz's patterns definitely fit that bill. But there's a lot of attention to detail required to make sure the end result is good. That sort of thing always makes me nervous. Fortunately there was only two pattern pieces to draft, and they're 98% straight lines and based off rectangles.

Interestingly, this is the first zero-waste pattern I've tried that has you draft pattern pieces to use. The others I've seen (most by the creator of this pattern - our library had a copy of her book, Zero Waste Sewing) have had you draw directly on your piece of fabric to create the layout. (In fairness, I didn't have to draft my own pieces. The pattern came with the option of self-drafting, printing on A4, or printing on A0.)

I much prefer the direct-draw method to faffing about with pattern pieces. But given that this pattern is designed to have the pieces tesselate, having a set of physical pattern pieces does make more sense. It's also got me wondering if I could successfully make a pair out of old jeans legs, using one leg per pattern piece. But then, I'm always looking for ways to use up my denim pile...

Sewing

I prefer structure rather than flow in my butt coverings, so I was somewhat limited in my fabric choices for this first pair. (I know the fabric I really want to use, but I am being a sensible apprentice and trying things out on a nice-but-less-hideously-expensive fabric first.) Most of my stash acquisition has focused on stuff for shirts, since I wear those out faster than pants. I eventually settled on this nice brick red, 100% cotton, table cloth.

The picture is suffering from sun exposure. It's nowhere near this bright in person.

I laid out the pieces and huzzah! The fabric was just big enough! ... But only if I unpicked the hems (they're monsters, a full 3 cm/1.2" each side) and ironed them flat first. Thus, it was time for a marathon unpicking and ironing session.

After that was done, I checked the pattern fit again. Huzzah! I had enough space for all the pattern pieces, and not very much scrap left over once I'd cut them all out. (Of course, it was late and I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have been, so I didn't add an extra inch when I was forced to cut the waistband in two pieces. There was enough extra fabric that this was only an annoyance and not a complete disaster.)

The fabric at the top is scrap. All but a few inches of the stuff on the right became waist bands and plackets.

Sewing was a fairly straightforward exercise, though it required enough brainpower that I completely forgot to take any progress shots as I went. Almost every step of the pattern comes with a diagram to show you what to do, which helped me immensely. So did having the seam allowances specified at each point, as there's three different ones used in different places.

That's not to say I didn't screw up, of course. While sewing the crotch seam, I somehow managed to close up the front of the pants entirely and leave a gap for the placket open at the back. (That will teach me not to double check the direction the pockets are facing before I pin and sew that seam. Maybe.) 

I also made a highly decorative and completely awful to sew with choice for topstitching thread, which I quickly became too stubborn to stop using. So the topstitching is, uh, not great. But it is purple and sparkly, and if I'd had any sense at all I would have left it til last (or even done some sort of hand embroidery with it).

I was tricked by the first line of stitching being so easy. LIES. It was all lies.

Why should I have left it til last? Because it turns out that the culottes are, in fact, designed to sit on one's true waist. Which meant I had a two inch difference between what I needed to fit me, and what the waist measurement was. If I hadn't top stitched the panels, I could have simply ran another line of stitching down the seams that didn't have pockets in the way, and taken the waist in without much fuss or bother. Unfortunately, I didn't do that, so I was left with two choices.

Take out the topstitching and take in all the panels, bitching and moaning about the effort I went to and the number of times the topstitch thread broke while I was sewing the stupid sparkly goodness onto things.

Work out how to take the waist in by the necessary two inches, using only the crotch seam and maybe some darts or pleats or something.

Choice #1 would have been the logical, rational decision, so of course I went with option #2.

An hour and change of basting, pinning and unpinning the waistband, and completely forgetting how seam allowances work later, I managed to get a fit I was happy enough with. I ended up grading in a dart-like object at the centre back. (If I decide later that I'm not happy with the fit after all, I'll try out the modification for adding elastic to the back waistband that the pattern also includes. Probably while questioning my life choices and lamenting the amount of time I spend with a seam ripper in hand.)

The original stitching line is in blue, the new one is in black.

After all that fitting woe, I wasn't in the mood to try buttonholes (my good machine, the one with the automatic buttonholer, is currently out of action). Instead I dove into my snap stash to close the placket.

I love using bright, vivid colours for inner details. It's the sewing equivalent of wearing leopard print underwear.

A nice bonus of using the snaps is that I could put them through just the placket, leaving the fly front clean. This did make the placket pull slightly when I'm wearing the pants, exposing a trace of bright red. I fixed that by invisibly whip-stitching through the placket and outer fabric to hold everything in place. Next time I'll also double check the understitching, and topstitch the edge if needed, before installing the snaps.

Field Test and Adjustments

Trying stuff on as you go is all well and good, but nothing tells you what you really need to fix like being out in the field. I quickly discovered several things:

The waistband needs serious help to stay where it's supposed to be. Which, y'know, I did make a size larger than I should have. This was not surprising.

The crotch needs to either drop a wee bit or (preferably) rise a couple of inches. The latter will likely spoil the skirt-effect somewhat, but it will be far more comfortable for my legs.

I need a loop on the waistband to hold my keys.

For the waist woes, I had a few choices - 1) belt loops, 2) suspenders, or 3) add elastic to the back waistband. Belt loops are fiddly to make and sew on, but would solve the key-hanging issue. Suspenders technically wouldn't need any sewing changes, but the clip-on style are notorious for pulling off when you're doing things. And while the pattern includes instructions for adding elastic to the waistband, I wasn't confident it would do the job I wanted (I stick a fair amount of junk in my pockets and elastic can't always cope with the weight).

After some dithering, I went with the suspender option for this pair. I like the look of them, and the "floating" effect they give when they pull the waistband a bit above where gravity wants it to sit is extremely comfortable. But I didn't want to deal with clips always popping off. So I indulged in a quick side-quest of improving my suspenders, then sewed buttons into the waistband of the culottes.

This used to hold the clips, but the wire was easy to bend flat with needle-nose pliers.

Gee, I wonder which buttonhole I did first?

Fashion Show

Overall, I'm quite happy with how it all came together. I'll definitely be making at least two more pairs - the "men's" version (less flare in the hems), likely out of recycled denim, and a pair in heavyweight stash linen.

The back panel adjustment is basically unnoticeable.

They have great range of movement - maybe I need to make a workout pair?

And I even have somewhere to hang my keys.

This post was originally published on my blog, Garak's Apprentice . I currently syndicate my content at Micro.blog, Tumblr, and Ko-Fi.

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[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PURSUIT // ONE

Series Synopsis: When your cousin goes missing right before he can challenge the Champion of your region, you must embark on a journey of your own in the hopes that one day, you might finally find him — wherever he may be.

Chapter Synopsis: You decide to embark on a journey. However, when you release the Pokémon that Shoei gave you before he left, you realize that you’ve met her once already.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Barou & Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.3k

Content Warnings: pokémon au except i make the world emo and infest it with blue lockers, angst, character death, familial bonds, found families, male-female FRIENDSHIPS, a slow burn so insane the main love interest isn’t even in a solid amount of chapters, it’s my world i do what i want which means liberties are taken, near death experiences, this story is long bro literally everything happens in it the amount of arcs i have planned is insane, original characters because reader will NOT be the only girl i refuse to write in conditions like that, this is being written as if gen vi is the last generation to come out because i cba to catch up on new pokémon lore

A/N: okay so here’s the ACTUAL first chapter of pursuit (there is a prologue though so please read that if you haven’t yet) LSKDFJSD tbh i was expecting to get further in the story with this one than i actually did but oh well!! anyways the first of reader’s traveling companions will be introduced next chapter so feel free to guess who it is hehe (hint: it is a blue locker)

tag list (send an ask to be added): @sharkissm @koffeekat @noble-17

“You’re a trainer, aren’t you?” the police officer said. She was squinting at your license, which displayed your name and status. You furrowed your brow at her, wondering how that was even relevant, and then slowly, you nodded.

“Yes, I am. One Pokémon,” you said.

“What kind?” she said. The Gogoat by her desk sighed, getting up and spinning in a circle, adjusting its position so that it could lay its head on her lap instead of atop its hooves. You took your Pokéball off of your belt, setting it on the desk in front of you and shrugging.

“No idea. Shoei gave it to me before he left,” you said. “He told me it’s the destructive type, so I shouldn’t release it until I’m ready to go on a journey of my own.”

She wrinkled her nose, muttering something under her breath that you couldn’t quite make out but which probably referred to how you were taking advantage of the league’s goodwill, and then she handed your license back to you.

“You’ve been coming and asking us to look for your cousin, Shoei Barou, for the past couple of years,” she said. “And you get the same answer every time, correct?”

“Yes, but—” you began. She cut you off before you could continue, her expression severe, her fingers resting atop your Pokéball in impatience. They were painted, and the sparkling navy winked in the harshness of the overhead lights.

“Like we previously discussed, you’re a trainer,” she said. “Why don’t you begin your own journey and look for him yourself?”

You had considered the idea before. You had a Pokémon, though you knew not which sort it was, and thanks to Shoei, your registration was already completed, so when it came to legality, there was nothing stopping you.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know anything about training or battling or — or any of that. And we’re so far from Lumiose that it’s not like I can go to the professor for help.”

“You’re in secondary school, and all they do over there is study. You probably know much more than an average trainer, especially starting out,” she said.

“It’s all theory, though,” you said. “Nothing to do with actual fieldwork.”

She rolled the ball towards you. You caught it before it could fall off the edge of the desk, clipping it back to your belt with a murmured apology.

“Most trainers don’t even have that, but they manage, don’t they? This really is your best option, Miss L/N. Regardless, this station will no longer hear your complaints,” she said. “The so-called case of Shoei Barou isn’t one that we are interested in investigating. There are actualdisappearances and crimes that warrant our attention.”

“I see,” you said. “Well. Thank you for your time.”

The Gogoat huffed as it watched you leave, and you gave it one final backwards glance before the door to the small office shut and you were left standing by yourself in the lobby.

Coumarine City felt smaller nowadays. When you were younger, it had seemed so vast as to be unknowable, but now, you could count the steps between the Pokémon Center, the Gym, the school, and your house without batting an eye. You had changed, Shoei had left, and yet the old footpaths were still exactly the same. It felt incongruous, disingenuous even. You thought that there should’ve been some great marker of the shift, some expansion of the bustling place, but there never was.

“Mother, father,” you said that night when you were all eating dinner together. Your mother’s Espurr was watching you with her wide lavender eyes, though the glare of your father’s Heliolisk was enough to dissuade her from any thievery, and you sat across from your parents, your knife clinking against the edge of your plate when you set it down. “I’m thinking of becoming a trainer.”

“You already are a trainer,” your father said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

“I mean, going on a journey and all. Like a proper trainer,” you said. The napkin fluttered out of your father’s grasp, and your mother’s eyes widened against her will. They, like Shoei’s parents, did not yet believe that his disappearance was out of the ordinary, but there it was a sort of wishful thinking. None of them considered it to be strange because they did not want it to be. Because that meant that he might be in the kind of trouble that they were powerless to rescue him from, and that powerlessness was something that they were not ready to accept.

“A journey?” your mother said, her voice breaking for a moment. You knew what she was saying, though she did not speak it aloud: that going on a journey was what took Shoei from you all, and that she could not survive it if you vanished, too. You understood. It was why you had delayed for so long — your parents, your dear parents, how could you leave them when you were so ill-prepared, when you did not even have a great desire to do so in the first place?

“Yes,” you said. Your Pokéball, which was still on your belt, warmed again, and you wondered if your Pokémon could understand what you were saying. Was she curious at the prospect of going on such an adventure? Did she long to battle? Or were you simply reading into things too much? The warmth could mean a million things, or it could mean nothing at all, and you’d be none the wiser. “The police department recommended it.”

“Why would they do that?” your father said.

“They told me it’s the only route I have left for finding Shoei,” you said.

“Y/N, you know—”

“No, I don’t!” you burst out before your mother could finish. She frowned at you, clearly taken aback, and you ducked your head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t agree. This isn’t just some run-of-the-mill training jaunt he’s on, and we all know that. If nobody else will do anything, then what choice do I have? He gave me a Pokémon. It’s about time I use her, anyways.”

This time, the ball grew hot enough to almost scald your skin through the fabric of your pants, and that was how you knew for a fact that it wasn’t a figment of your imagination. She was trying to say something, and you had an inkling that it was related to this half-baked plan of yours.

Your parents exchanged looks. Sometimes you thought that they must be able to communicate with their eyes alone, because neither of them said a word, yet within seconds, they were turning towards you in unison, both a peculiar mix of exasperated and concerned and, if you really read into it, proud.

“If you think it’s best, then we can’t exactly stop you,” your mother said.

“We haven’t been able to stop you since Shoei made you a trainer,” your father added, smiling ruefully. “That reckless cousin of yours. I’m sure he had good intentions with it, but he could’ve at least asked first!”

At this you could only chuckle, because all of you knew as well as each other that Shoei wasn’t really the type to ever ask for permission. Not once in his life had he ever done such a thing, and even imagining him doing so felt like you were going against his character.

“I’ll leave soon,” you said. “Once I settle my affairs with the school. They’ll probably be happy to see me go. I’ve never really fit in with the rest of my classmates.”

It didn’t matter that you were one of the best students there. All that your teachers and peers and principal saw was the Pokéball on your belt, which glowed like a beacon, alerting them all to how you were different. You weren’t like the others. You relied on your trainer’s stipend to pay for your tuition, and your Pokémon was the battling sort instead of a docile companion occasionally employed to defend you from a wilder Pokémon’s aggression.

People placed bets about what kind of Pokémon you must have. They never told you, but you were aware of it anyways. Some of them were kinder, presuming that it was an Espurr like your mother’s, or perhaps a Helioptile, the pre-evolution of your father’s Heliolisk. Those who liked you very much — or very little, if they meant it in a mocking way — claimed it must be one of those more elegant types. Perhaps the rainbow serpent Milotic, or a pale, iridescent-winged Butterfree. Others, who found great pleasure in looking down on you, assured their friends that it was a small, mousy Rattata, purple and fat and nervous, with quivering ears and overgrown teeth.

Even you did not know. Shoei had not bothered to tell you before he had left, and you had not yet released her, so whenever people slyly asked you which battle-partner rested on your hip, you could only shrug and tell them that you weren’t certain. This was almost always met with disdain, for if they had braved asking you, then they had the kind of curiosity which couldn’t be sated with such a noncommittal and vague answer.

When you got to school the next day, you rubbed your Gogoat companion on its soft cheek. It cocked its head at you, obviously confused — it didn’t know that this was the last time it would see you, though when you smiled at it sadly and murmured goodbye, its ears drooped, and you thought that it must understand in its own way.

Instead of going to class, you went directly to the principal’s office. She was a tall woman with a face like a Geodude’s, permanently set in a severe frown that was only exacerbated by the slicked-back knot she kept her thinning hair in, and she had never once said a kind word to you. You didn’t know if she was incapable or if it was just that you did not pay enough money to draw it out of her.

“Miss L/N,” she said when you walked in without knocking. She was hunched over a stack of papers, and she did not look up when you entered. In the corner, her black-and-violet Grumpig looked at you, its beady eyes the same shade as the dark pearls on its head and chest, its pink snout twitching in the same distaste it always showed you. “You should be in class.”

“I’m leaving,” you said. You knew it was abrupt even as you said it, but there was no point in delicacy at this late stage. Your mind was made up, and there was little chance that the woman before you would try to stop you, so what cause did you have for tiptoeing around the matter?

“Leaving?” she said. That piqued her interest enough that she looked up at you, her glasses sliding down her nose. Pushing them back up, she narrowed her eyes. “On a journey, I presume?”

“That’s correct,” you said. She didn’t ask you why, only pressing her lips into a thin line, white around the wrinkled edges from the force of it.

“It’s about time,” she said.

“Yes,” you said.

“We at the school wish you luck. Communications will be sent out regarding the reimbursement of your tuition for the rest of the semester,” she said, rattling it off in a robotic, trained voice that almost put you to sleep.

“Thank you,” you replied, just as mechanically. “If that is all?”

“I would suggest you visit the Pokémart before leaving,” she said.

“I was already planning on it,” you said. “But I appreciate your counsel.”

You turned to the door, your fingers resting on the polished handle as you prepared to open it. Before you could push it down, however, the principal cleared her throat, motioning with her hand for you to stop. Her Grumpig’s ears swiveled in distress, which was odd coming from such a self-assured species, and her own expression was a similar blend of anxious and intrigued.

“Hold on,” she said. “Release your Pokémon first. I wish to see it.”

“New policy?” you said, raising an eyebrow at her. As far as you knew, school officials had no right to demand you release your Pokémon for them, especially given that you were leaving the institution, but it wasn’t like you read the code of conduct regularly or anything like that.

To your surprise, she shook her head. “Personal curiosity.”

The principal’s office wasn’t exactly the place you had dreamed of releasing your partner for the first time, but then again it was just as good as any other location, so why delay? Plus, at least this way the Grumpig was there to corral any unruliness should it manifest — some kinds of Pokémon enjoyed testing their trainers, and though you didn’t think Shoei would have given you one of those sorts on purpose, it remained that the dispositions which agreed with him weren’t always the sort that the general populace found tolerable.

“Alright,” you said. Unclipping the ball from your belt, you pressed the seal once to enlarge it, rolling it in your palm while you waited for the principal to give you some kind of signal. She nodded, and you tossed the Pokéball in the air, triggering the mechanism which would release its contents from stasis and allow her to reform in the real world.

Even before your Pokémon had fully coalesced, the Grumpig was squealing in fright, crashing backwards into the wall, the whites of its eyes showing, its breaths shallow as its chest heaved. You frowned, because there was no reason that it should be so frightened of a relatively low-level Pokémon such as yours, but then an eerie howl stabbed into your eardrums and you understood at once.

Your Pokémon came up to just below your waist, and she had short black fur, pointed ears, and a red muzzle. Bony ridges criss-crossed her back, her ankles, and her forehead, giving her a menacing appearance that was only furthered by the knife-sharp fangs peeking out of her mouth and the growl rumbling in the back of her throat.

“Houndour?” you said. At the sound of her name, she shifted towards you, and immediately her tail began wagging, her mouth opening as she panted happily. A lump formed in your throat the longer you stared at her, and then you crouched, wrapping your arms around her muscular shoulders. She smelled spicy and hot but also sweet, the way pepper jelly or cinnamon tasted, and her nose was cold when she pressed it to your cheek in a fond greeting.

“Your Pokémon is a Houndour?” the principal said. Houndour cocked her head at the principal, one ear still turned towards the Grumpig in the corner, the other pricked forwards at the woman.

“Not just any Houndour,” you said, straightening but still keeping a hand atop Houndour’s head. “Shoei’s Houndour’s sister.”

The principal was wary now, she had been ever since you had released Houndour, and for good reason — the species had an ominous reputation, and most people thought that they and their evolutionary counterpart, Houndoom, were beasts sent to drag humans to hell for any perceived wrongdoings. To make things worse, any sense of comfort that her Grumpig might’ve afforded her was vanished, because it could do nothing against Houndour, who as a dark type was immune to psychic attacks.

“How do you know?” she said.

“I know,” you said. Houndour sighed, the exasperated exhale releasing a wisp of smoke that curled and dissipated into the air above her. “Well, that’ll quell the bets. I guess nobody managed to guess correctly.”

“Nobody would’ve!” the principal burst out, taking out a Pokéball of her own and returning the Grumpig before putting the ball in her desk drawer. “Who in their right mind would give a dark type to a beginning trainer?”

“Not all of them are like that,” you said. “You’d know that if you ever read the material that all of your students are forced to sit through. Of course, no one in their right mind would give someone without any other Pokémon a Sneasel or a Purrloin, but as a general rule, you won’t find a Pokémon more loyal to their trainer than a Houndour. Anyways, this one is special.”

It wasn’t her place to question you further, so whistling for Houndour to follow you, you slipped out of the office and left the school behind for good.

As you walked to the Pokémart, you noticed that people gave you a wide berth, eyeing the Pokémon trotting along at your side with no small amount of suspicion. Houndour paid them no mind, though, and so neither did you, humming to yourself, entirely relieved that Shoei knew you well enough to give you her.

“You’re a first-time trainer?” the cashier at the Pokémart said, peering over the counter at Houndour, who blinked back at him innocently. “Okay…I suppose you’ll need potions and some basic Pokéballs, then. Twenty of each should last you until you can make it to the next town, I’d say, if not further.”

“That sounds good,” you said.

“Do you want to pay for those on account or in cash?” he said.

“What does on account mean?” you said.

“It’s a way for trainers to get necessary supplies even if they’re lacking the immediate funds. Basically, everybody who buys from a Pokémart gets an account created for them, and they can choose to put their purchases on that account and pay them off at a later date,” he said.

“That sounds easily exploitable by someone who doesn’t mean to ever pay back,” you said.

“Balances are due every month, the day after stipends are released. You’ll accrue interest on them after that, and if it’s been too long, your account will be frozen and authorities will be contacted,” he said with a shrug. “It really is meant to help people out, but the choice is yours.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to come back here in a month’s time regardless, so it doesn’t matter,” you said.

“No, no, they can be paid off at any official Pokémart,” he said. “Of course they took that into consideration.”

“I see,” you said. “Then put it all on my account, if that’s alright.”

“Perfectly fine by me,” he said, typing something into his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Your stipend for the month had gone into your tuition, and until you got your reimbursements figured out, you’d rather not waste any more money unless it was an emergency. Besides, if the option was there, you supposed you might as well familiarize yourself with it.

“Is that everything, do you think?” you said.

“Unless you want an item for your Pokémon to hold in battle,” he said.

“An item?” you said. Although you knew so much about Pokémon biology and various scientific theories regarding them, you hardly had a clue about even these most basic concepts of battle. They weren’t considered important for those of you at the school to learn; after all, besides you, no one was even registered to be a trainer, so why would they waste the time?

The cashier snorted. “I guess you really are a first-time trainer.”

“Obviously,” you said. “Why would I lie about that?”

“Pokémon can hold items — according to league rules, it’s a maximum of one, though it’s also fine if you don’t give them any — that’ll aid them in battle. Some trainers will give them berries that’ll negate side effects from various moves, and others will give them stones to hold that’ll boost their stats. It’s up to you, though. Plenty of people don’t give them any items at all. You’ll have to get rid of the one your Houndour already has if you want to use one while battling, though,” he said.

“What do you mean? She doesn’t have any items,” you said. He clicked his tongue, pointing at Houndour’s neck.

“That counts, even if it doesn’t do anything,” he said. You followed the line of his index finger, furrowing your brow when you realized he was referencing the silky red collar tied in a bow at her scruff. There was a stone embedded in it that sparkled at her throat, and even before the cashier could say something, you were shaking your head.

“No, that stays,” you said. “It’s important. Maybe not for battle, but for me.”

“Alright,” the cashier said, clearly unaffected. “It’s your decision. Here are the potions and Pokéballs you asked for.”

He slid the assortment of things across the counter, and you swept them into your bag, which had already been emptied of your books and the rest of your school supplies. Waving at him, you exited the Pokémart, making your way to your house for what would probably be the last time in a while.

“You’re quite a bit bigger than the last time I saw you,” you said to Houndour as you walked, scratching her under the chin idly when you reached the road and had to wait for a car to pass by. “When’d Shoei get around to capturing you, too, huh?”

Your father had taken off of work to wish you farewell, and your mother was at home as she always was, so you did not even have to call out their names when you entered the house. They were waiting in the foyer, Heliolisk and Espurr by their sides, though when Houndour padded in behind you, Espurr hissed, darting to hide behind your mother’s leg.

“A Houndour?” your father said, raising his eyebrows. Houndour barked at him; you couldn’t quite tell what the bark meant, but it was a harsh enough sound that your father winced at it. “What was Shoei thinking?”

“I know her,” you said. “That’s probably it.”

“What do you mean?” your mother said. “Since when?”

“Uh, it’ll probably make you angry,” you said.

“Huh?” your father said. “It’s not like we can do anything about it now.”

“You’ve got us curious,” your mother added.

“It’s kind of a long story,” you admitted. “But as with most things, it begins and ends with Shoei.”

Your cousin lived on the very edge of Coumarine City, on the outskirts right by the winding road to the cliffs and the coast, and so whenever your family visited his, the two of you would sneak off to the beach to play. It was dangerous, because neither of you had Pokémon, but with your youth came this notion of impunity, and since nothing had happened thus far, both of you believed that it would continue in that way until the end of time.

“I’m going to be a trainer one day,” Shoei told you, helping you down from the narrow ledge that you had to leap from to make it to the sand of the shore. You were still too frightened to jump by yourself, and he was patient enough that he did not tease you for it, only taking your hand and letting you clutch his arm for balance.

“Of course,” you said. “I will, too. It’s not uncommon.”

“Not for the stipend,” he said. “I’m going to be a proper trainer, with a full team and everything. You’ll see. I’ll do the league challenge and join the conference once I have all of my badges, and then after that I’ll beat the Elite Four and Mr. Mikage. Then I’ll be Champion. The best trainer in all of Kalos. That’s what I mean.”

“How, though? Neither of your parents have battling Pokémon, so you can’t use their partners to catch your own, and we’re way too far for you to go to the professor’s lab in Lumiose and get one of the official starters from there,” you said.

“I don’t know,” Shoei said. “But I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” you said.

“Do you think I can do it?” he said.

“You can do anything,” you said. His chest puffed out a bit at that, and he grinned at you. He hardly ever smiled, so you took it as a treat, beaming back at him.

“That’s right,” he said. “I can do anything.”

“Ooh, look at these!” you said, stopping in your tracks and bending over to dig around in the sand, pulling out two twin stones with a flourish.

It was your favorite hobby, finding shells and pretty things to admire before you tossed them back into the sea, but there was something different about these two. There were clouds in the air, and yet they shone as brightly as if the sun’s rays were concentrated on them, a soft pink shade like dawn, cut through with a streak of black as dark as a shadow. Weathered by the tides, they were slick in your hand, and you dropped them into Shoei’s pocket for safekeeping.

“You want to take those home? Normally you throw shards of sea glass back into the ocean,” Shoei said.

“They’re nicer than normal,” you said. “You can keep them, if you want. Like a present.”

He scoffed. “I’ll probably just throw them away.”

You pouted. “If that’s what you prefer.”

He could only maintain his gruff expression for a moment before softening and ruffling your hair. “I was only joking. I’ll put them on my bookshelf and think of you every time I see them.”

Immediately, you brightened, because back then your mood’s rise and fell was almost entirely dependent on him. He noticed, but he only wrinkled his nose at you, grabbing you by the back of the shirt before you could fall into a tide pool.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said, holding you in place as you craned your neck in wonder. The water was so clear you could see every little plant and shell growing in its depths; at the bottom, there were even a Krabby scuttling about, though when it noticed you, it dashed back to hide amongst the stones, too shy to provoke you even though you had no Pokémon of your own.

“It’s so pretty, Shoei,” you said. “Can we look for more?”

“Sure,” he said. “Our parents won’t be expecting us for a bit, so as long as we don’t go too far and remember the way back home, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Yay!” you said, tugging on his sleeve. “Let’s go that way! Or, wait, no. That way!”

He poked you in the side as you tried to make up your mind. “How about both? Just choose one to start with, and then we can head in the other direction afterwards.”

“Good idea,” you said, picking at random and setting off with Shoei in tow.

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon wandering up and down along the line of pebbly sand where the waves broke, pointing out bits of shells and smaller Pokémon to one another when you saw them. It was dangerous, no doubt about it, but the danger added a certain thrill to the otherwise innocuous activity, and so neither of you minded too much.

Some hours passed — was it two or three? You didn’t know — before you heard a bone-chilling sound, one which wasn’t supposed to be heard around Coumarine City but which was engraved into both of your brains from various horror films regardless.

“Was that a Houndour?” you said, pressing closer to Shoei. “I thought that they were only found around Geosenge Town, though?”

You were suddenly hyper-aware of the sun setting in the distance, as well as the fact that we had somehow managed to travel far enough from your typical spot that it would take you ages to find your way home. The Houndour howled again, and Shoei scowled deeply, the lines of it etched into his forehead.

“Let’s investigate,” he said.

“What? Shouldn’t we be running away from it?” you said, yelping and following as he charged towards the source of the sound.

“Either it’s a trainer’s Pokémon, in which case I want their advice about going on a journey, or it’s somewhere it’s not supposed to be, in which case…” he trailed off, a determined set to his mouth as the two of you ran. “We just need to be quick so we can get home in time.”

It was a few minutes later that you skidded to a stop in front of a small cave with a Houndour sitting in front of it, howling and howling. Now that you were faced with the Pokémon, you realized it was not as large and intimidating as the movies and its reputation made it sound; for some reason, its cry, too, felt more mournful than anything.

When it noticed you and Shoei, it flattened its ears and tucked its tail, rocking back on its haunches and baring its teeth with a warning growl. Shoei held out a hand, averting his eyes and speaking in a soft whisper so unlike his typical rough tone.

“We only want to help you,” he said. “How’d you end up here, anyways?”

The Houndour stared at him for a heart-stopping instant. You were as still as you could be — even if the Pokémon didn’t seem as demonic as it did in the movies, it remained that it was considerably more powerful than a Krabby could ever hope to be, and furthermore had a famously more aggressive temperament than the skittish denizens of the tide pools.

Flames coated the Houndour’s mouth, and you cringed away from it, but Shoei was still, not gazing at it directly but refusing to back down, either. The Houndour took him in before abruptly extinguishing the fire, tilting its head towards the mouth of the cave and then whining at you entreatingly.

“Sounds like he wants us to follow him,” Shoei said, ducking so he could enter the cave. You crept in behind him, narrowing your eyes against the darkness; although you did not complain, the Houndour must’ve sensed your discomfort, because with a rumbling from deep within its stomach, it formed an ember, holding it in its mouth instead of spitting it out so that it could light the path forward.

When you reached the hollowed out main room of the cave, the Houndour stopped, barking and pawing at the stone. Shoei brushed the sand off of the Houndour’s back and then knelt so that he could inspect what the Pokémon had brought you to see: another Houndour, this one lying limply on the cold, stony floor.

“There’s two of them?” you said.

“If I had to guess, they got separated from their pack during that storm we had a few days ago. The rain would’ve washed away all of the scents they found familiar, so their best option was trying to find some kind of shelter,” Shoei said. “That must be how she got hurt.”

The smaller Houndour’s paw was matted and sticky with blood, hence why she could not get up, though she did lift her head a little, wagging her tail at you when she noticed you were there.

“They’ve come so far,” you said. “Why didn’t they stop at Shalour? That’s in between here and Geosenge.”

“With all of those birds hanging around there? They would’ve been Mandibuzz food in a heartbeat, especially the injured one,” he said.

“I see,” you said. Mandibuzz weren’t native to the Kalos region, but the gym leader of Shalour City specialized in flying types, so he was always introducing new species to the area. “What should we do?”

“The wound’s old. If we can clean it off, it’ll heal on its own. She probably has Flash Fire for an ability, so a burn won’t do her any harm, which means the brother can cauterize it without an issue,” he said, scooping the Houndour up without much ceremony. Normally, it’d be impossible, but she was small for her kind, and Shoei had always been stronger than most his age.

The older Houndour lit the way as you emerged onto the beach, where Shoei found a nearby tide pool, using the briny water to rinse the blood from the wound. The female Houndour was trembling, no doubt because the water was an unpleasant feeling for a fire type such as herself, but there was nothing to be done about it besides working quickly, and admirably, she did not make a sound the entire time Shoei was working.

“This is the kind of thing you have to deal with as a trainer,” he said once the paw was cleaned and the pink gash was exposed to the sun. “Of course, a potion would cure this in a minute, but we don’t have any on hand, so it’ll have to wait. Hey, you. Can you use Ember on her injury?”

The older Houndour seemed uncertain, but to your surprise, he did not protest, only creeping forward and nudging his sister in apology before breathing a fire the size of your palm directly onto the wound. Curiously, she did not react beyond glancing at the light it gave off, and Shoei scratched behind her ears.

“Is that the effect of Flash Fire?” you said.

“Yup,” he said, waiting for the flame to die out and then lifting the Houndour in his arms again. “It’s common amongst Houndour.”

“What does it do, exactly?” you said.

“Gives them immunity to fire-based attacks,” he said. “All in all, it makes sense, given that they hunt in tandem. It wouldn’t do for the pack to injure its own members while chasing after prey, yeah? In fact, fire only boosts their special attacks.”

“Special attacks?” you said.

“Ah, it’s a league term for non-physical attacks,” he said. “They needed a way to differentiate it for bettors, since most Pokémon are only good in one area or the other.”

“I get it now,” you said. “So, like, being hit with an Ember would make her own Ember stronger?”

“Exactly,” he said, setting the Houndour down where you had found her and patting you on the head. “Good job. You’ll make a great trainer yourself someday. Maybe almost as good as me.”

“I don’t want to be a trainer,” you said. “I just want to live at home with everyone and go to school and be happy.”

“Is that so?” he said. “Then that’s what you should do.”

Arranging the Houndour into a more comfortable position, he turned to the older one, a serious expression on his face. The Houndour was still, his tail held straight in the air — alert, wary, but not distressed. You knew that much about Pokémon behavior from your early-level classes.

“Is there an easier way to our house from here?” he said to the Houndour. “Take us to it if there is.”

“How would it even know where we live?” you said.

“There’s very few Pokémon with a better sense of smell than the Houndoom line,” he said. “Go on, then, Houndour. Take us home. She’ll be alright for the few minutes you’re gone.”

The older Houndour gave his sister a worried look, but he must’ve felt as though he owed Shoei a debt, for he slunk out of the cave with his nose against the ground, nostrils flared as he tried to pick out a trail. You and Shoei watched for a few minutes before the Houndour suddenly froze, raising one of his front paws and extending his muzzle forward.

“What’s he doing?” you said.

“Pointing,” Shoei said, a tinge of disbelief in his voice. “I knew the Growlithe in the police force are trained to do it, but I didn’t realize that Houndour do it naturally.”

“I bet Houndour would be a great police Pokémon if people weren’t so scared of it,” you said, your sentiments towards the species far more charitable now, as the two of you followed the Houndour up a winding path that you had never even known existed.

Before the sun had even finished setting — which was miraculous, given how close to the horizon it had been when you had set out — the Houndour had led you to Shoei’s backyard. You could hear your parents talking and laughing with one another, contemplating calling you both back for dinner, and you were about to run inside when you realized Shoei was still lingering back.

Pausing in your tracks, though you doubted he noticed that you were listening to his conversation, you tried to quiet your breathing so that you could hear what he was saying to the Houndour, which was as motionless then as it had been when the two of you had first found it.

“Meet me here in a couple of days,” he said. “I’ll get a potion by then and use it on your sister’s paw so she doesn’t have any lasting side effects from the injury.”

The Houndour sneezed at Shoei, which you supposed was his way of assenting. Shoei laughed, which was a rare sound and also a wonderful one; then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him move to offer the back of his hand to the small Pokémon, who sniffed it cautiously.

“Hey, Houndour. I’m going to be a trainer one day — a Champion, in fact,” he said. “So don’t go home, okay? Even once your sister is better, don’t go home. Find me again, and come with me.”

The Houndour did not make any moves of agreement nor dissent; instead, he just disappeared into the lengthening shadows of the night, leaving you and Shoei behind in the trimmed grass of the lawn, where no wild Pokémon would ever dare to tread.

A few moments later, though, the night was split with a howl, high and sinister and uncanny, and once more Shoei laughed, because that was all the answer that he needed.

[jade-kyo]

Non-Red vs Blue fans guess the fake fact: results!

Find the og post here

Alright time to finally review the results! Correct answer is at the bottom of this post for those not interested in all of the results and explanations!

So the most highly voted option at 23% was Elijah Wood which I’m sorry to say is incorrect! Elijah Wood was a voice actor in the series. He played the role of Sigma! What this big name actor is doing in a random web series I have no idea but it’s still one of the wildest things to me.

Now the aspirin overdose comes in with 17.3% and got mentioned a lot in the notes and it is also incorrect. However I will admit to some poor wording on my part because it was actually an allergic reaction not an overdose. That’s a genuine oopsies on my part 😅

Florida sinking into the ocean gets a 10.1% and is also incorrect! The state of Florida does in fact sink into the ocean and it’s implied this was to cover up the disappearance of Agent Florida (who is also the guy who dies from the aspirin)

The gay guy, who’s name is Donut btw, becoming Jesus comes in with 8.3% and is in fact very real. He even walks on water. It was wild and tbh I barely remember it cause it’s from a season I dislike but it was too wild not to include.

With 7.2% I can say for sure that the giant killer robot is indeed dressed up in cute hats! Specifically a sombrero! Also the robots name is Freckles.

CPR for a bullet wound in the head gets 6.7% and is in fact considered effective medical care. Now I will say this later gets retconned and it turns out the guy didn’t actually get shot in the head the bullet just grazed him and his armor locked up making them all think he was dying- hence the choice of word being considered. The characters fully believe it but the CPR did not actually save him cause he wasn’t even hurt to begin with.

The crazy love triangle comes in with 4.7% and is also very canon and is exactly as it’s said. There’s literally just this insane love triangle for like two seasons- honestly the only love triangle plot I ever enjoyed.

With a solid 4% I can say that there is in fact canon mpreg! Hurray? Idk man this one’s exactly as it sounds. Dude got knocked up by an alien.

In last place with 2.5% of votes is the main character dying repeatedly. This is also incorrect. First off this guy is named Church which very funny on its own. Secondly it’s actually one of the first running jokes in the series how much this dude dies. Until it’s not a joke 🫠 also a few people pointed out RvB doesn’t have a main character and while I agree I felt it was simpler just to call Church the main character for this poll since it’s designed for people who haven’t seen RvB and I would argue that the majority of the narrative centers around Church even when he’s not there.

And now for the correct answer, coming in at third place with 16.1% is Caboose is god!

Now I will fully confess to being sneaky with this one. This is actually a joke made within the series but it is not true at all. Caboose is not actually god and the platypus is just that fucked up. I knew nothing I could come up with would be able to match the absurdity of this series so I decided to twist a few words so that way everything seemed equally fucked up.

And that concludes the poll! I will now leave you off with a few honorable mentions that did not make the Final Cut:

They have a Spanish speaking robot. None of them speak Spanish.

He’s a ghost but not actually a ghost but actually a highly advanced computer program

Woman has mega beef with an AI copy of her dead mom

The highly advanced computer program can’t aim for shit

The first 5 seasons were revealed to actually be a prolonged torture session

Dude chases his dead gf through multiple iteration of the same memory

Woman developed a sibling like bond with an AI copy of her extremely neglectful father

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi Fen!!! Popping in to ask what you think the moon boys’ hobbies would be (if they weren’t so busy moon knighting). (For Steven, I feel like studying ancient Egypt is more like a passion, so like what else do you think he’d be into?)

K. Love you! Byeeeee.

IDJIDHVDHFH Oh my gosh, I love this ask so much! Thank you so, so, SO much for sending it! ❤️(ILY!) Did I think about this at work for a good 1 and 30 mins instead of working on a spreadsheet? No, of course not, I would never do that… 👀

I have narrowed it down to one each to save everyone from seeing my absolute madness.

Moon Knight Boys Headcanons & Hobbies

Rating: PG  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Swearing

Steven: Cooking

Okay, here me out. So, I’ve seen opposite ends of opinion on this one (both are valid) but I’m going with Steven is a very good cook, and he likes cooking. 

He’s been vegan for a while and it’s only in the last couple of years that food places have really been trying with vegan and vegetarian options that aren’t salad… bread… (chips if you’re lucky) So, I think he enjoys making lots of different recipes. 

It started out with him just making vegan ones and then, over time, became him changing other recipes to make them vegan and coming up with his own. 

Absolute master at vegan cakes, no one can ever tell the difference, and, in fact, a lot of people compliment him on ‘the best cake they’ve ever had’, ‘so light and fluffy? How do you do it?’ “Well, that’s the secret, innit?” (whisk the aquafaba like your life depends on it and sweet potato) 

Steven is absolutely horrified by the food Marc makes himself. (Plain chicken, rice, spinach) 

“Where are the flavours Marc? At least some herbs? Spices for fuck’s sake? I can’t believe you’re eating plain steamed chicken?” (He doesn’t even care that it’s meat, it's just the lack of flavour.)

“It’s boiled chicken actually.”

Steven loses his goddamn mind. 

“I don’t care what bloody macronutrient you are monitoring, you are not eating that.”

It’s not that Marc can’t cook, he just doesn’t see the reason to put the effort in when it’s just for himself (doesn’t feel like he deserves it.)

Steven grumbles to himself and refuses to let Marc cook his own dinner if he can help it. “If you’re going to eat meat, at least treat it with respect, yeah? Bring out the flavour?” He usually preps something for Marc, so he can cook it quickly when he’s hungry. 

Makes so many cakes and pastries for Jake. Leaves them in boxes with ‘Jake :)’ written on a post stick note on the top. Jake is always so touched and surprised when he does. They have taken to playing a little game where sometimes the food is vegan and sometimes it’s not and Jake has to guess. He’s more accurate than most people, but it still only averages around 70% right. (69% if we’re being exact, and Marc is sure Jake’s messing with the correct statistics on purpose.)

Marc: Fantasy Baseball and Fantasy Football

Literally takes it so seriously. Has spreadsheets filled with information and pours over every single statistic like it holds the answers to the universe. It only got more intense when he found a forum for people with the same interest and he literally will spend hours talking online about it.

“It’s not about getting the best players, it’s about making the best team.”

Jake has joked that he puts Steven and his love for history to shame and if those spreadsheets weren’t saved on the computer Marc would have boxes and boxes and folders upon folders of printed out info and then there would be zero space in the flat. 

When Marc annoys Steven, Steven tells him to “go play with your pretend american cricket and american rugby” to piss him off. 

(Marc retaliates by incorrectly pronouncing UK places. 

“Steven, maybe we should take a trip to Ed-in-b-row” 

“It’s Ed-in-bruh.” 

“How about Sus-SEX or Es-SEX?” 

“It’s Sus-SIX and Es-SIX.” 

“I do love Green-WITCH at this time of year.” 

“IT’S GREN-ITCH! Jake, you're from New York, how is Greenwich pronounced?” 

“I’m not getting involved.” 

“Ha! That’s because he agrees with me!”

When things get really heated, Marc threatens to make a cup of tea in the microwave. Steven says he doesn’t care because he makes coffee in the microwave all the time and it’s fine. Jake puts an end to it by saying hot chocolate tastes best with water and then laughing when both Marc and Steven gang up on him. 

“I cannot believe you think that mate.”

“You know how many different types of milk there are?”

“Absolutely disgusting.”

“Cow, goat, soya, almond, coconut, literally any of them instead.”)

Jake: Knitting

Wanted something to keep his hands busy, that he could pick up and put down, and that he could take in his cab when he was stationary and waiting for fares. 

Took to it a lot quicker than he thought it would, and can just zone out and knit. It helps keep him grounded. 

He feels like he has spent a lot of his time destroying and there is something so satisfying about being able to create. 

Once he mastered the stitch he quickly moved onto making clothes. Before Marc and Steven knew about him he used to knit jumpers for Steven and hide them in the wardrobe. 

Jake makes Marc a cartoony style baseball jumper that he also loves, and a thick cardigan for Steven that is covered in hieroglyphics (he spends months researching the language to get it to make some sense, and works in a dig at Khonshu in there and has Steven crying with laughter.) 

When they know about him Steven excitedly requests the “most garish and over the top Hanukkah jumper anyone has ever seen!” Jake does his best, presenting it to Steven (and trying to hide how nervous he feels) Steven loves it and refuses to take it off all winter. 

Most people think Jake has a stern glare when he wants, but you can never be sure if he’s planning your destruction or trying to work out how many balls of wool it would take to make someone your size a jumper.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[aayakashii]

So I was thinking abt Yuri’s theory abt pacts and most humans being allergic to demonic particles causing them to die. If his speculation is correct then doesn’t that mean people planning on making pacts could try using immunotherapy?

Sooo just imagine. A few months pass and there’s still no hint of her curse being cured. MC doesn’t want to jump the gun but she wants to have a back up plan of her own instead of just trusting the institute to cure her curse, so she starts considering making a pact. She doesn’t wanna risk just happening to be one of the few that aren’t allergic to demonic particles (it’s not like her lucks all that great after all) so she seeks a ghoul who has a blood type that is compatible with hers (or she just has AB+ blood so she can accept any blood) and is just trying to not seem suspicious as she awkwardly asks if they’ll let her take their blood samples for months until the last week (or earlier depending on wether she even knows how to find a demon to make a pact with) before her year limit is up so she can build resistance. Whether she tells them her true or intentions or not tho may depend on the person.

Like I can just imagine that she’s type O (O- if you wanna give her less options) so she’s forced to ask Tohma, Ren, or Taiga who also have type O blood.

Or having to ask Leo or Romeo for whatever reason and you can only convince them by:

A) Giving them a reason they’d believe and care enough about

B) Telling the truth

C) Doing their bidding

Or

D) A combination of C and another one

It also makes me wonder how Yuri would respond. I’m guessing he would know why without having to question you for long since he is the one that told you about his hypothesis. Now whether he would initially refuses cuz he knows he can find a cure or he agrees right away to prove his conjecture is the question.

Sorry for rambling I know this is long 😭

I think it’s a pretty cool idea though, thx for reading it!

PLEASE I LOVE LONG ASKS LIKE THESE, KEEP SHARING IDEAS WITH ME!!!!!

That's actually such a good theory, too! I honestly think MC could be honest with almost all the ghouls, except Kaito and Luca. They would most definitely be 100% against the idea of her making a pact. Maybe Alan and Haru too, since they have a protective streak on them that would probably make them very against the idea. So maybe she would have to hide her intentions from these guys. But the rest could pretty much be aware of her goal. Some would be more resistant, but then they could just shrug and think "ah whatever it's worth a shot ig 🤷"

It would still force her into a bind, though 💀 it's not like Leo or Romeo would just accept it without getting something from it. But I don't think they would be against her using their blood like that. They would call her crazy for sure, but they would hardly stop her. It's not like they care about the poor girl all that much 😭

I think Yuri would be very conflicted. In one hand, he is adamant that he can cure the curse. But in the other, this would be the perfect way to prove his theory. He doesn't seem like a person who creates a plan B for any of his scientific endeavors, but maybe because it plays into something very important to him, he could accept it.

Although I wonder if he ever tried using his own blood to search for the specific antibodies in order to check whether or not his theory is valid.

Oh, but he would definitely need demon antigens to see which antibodies latch on them, and getting that must be very hard (I don't think Darkwick has a demon sample at all). yeah nevermind, immunotherapy for a probable allergy is the only option 💀

I wonder what types of adverse effects she would have to face though! Like, since she'd be building immunity, her body would be working overtime to fend off those antigens. How would that appear in her body? Would she get high fevers, vomiting, weakness, and other cold-like symptoms, like when we take a flu vaccine?

The thing is, she would need to start the therapy right away, so she can have at least those last 10 months of intense treatment. The mermaid guy did it for only a few weeks I think and it went horribly wrong 💀

But all in all, that's such a good theory! I love how they're pushing a medical pov through Yuri! It kinda gives me war flashbacks because I immediately think of work but that's okay dkjdsjdjd

[applestorms]

FUCK IT. DEATH NOTE CLASSPECTING. GO:

LIGHT: prince of light. both class and aspect are non-negotiable here. moon-wise i’m actually inclined to assign him derse, if only cause of the whole “accessing the powers of dark gods” thing (guess that makes ryuk a horrorterror? hmm), though prospit would probably fit better personality-wise.

L: prince of void. i’m quite confident in the aspect for this one, though the class is a little more iffy. having them both be princes feels oddly fitting though so let’s run with it. moon-wise i’d actually like to give him prospit, mostly just to be complementary to light, but also cuz it’s funny to imagine him cloud-watching in the piss pjs.

MISA: page of doom. i’m quite proud of this assignment actually, i think it fits quite well w/ her whole thing in canon about being loved by death (though here the terminology would be more like “served by doom”). prospit dreamer for sure probably maybe, to be honest i have no fucking idea how dream moon assignment works? fuck it, i’m giving up on that from here onward.

MATSUDA: knight of hope. again, less certain on class, but i think it’s very sweet if he’s a hope player <33 esp since his Belief in light lasts (almost) the whole series…

MELLO: thief of light. making him & light both light players is fucking hilarious to me so we’re rolling with that. also assigning him thief is making me think of vriska parallels now which is vaguely horrifying to consider but he did kidnap sayu and kiyomi so let’s move on quickly now.

NEAR: heir of void. take a wild guess who he’s inheriting that void from, fellas. this one kind of breaks my heart to think about, which i think is a good sign that it fits well. not much else to say, i’ve had this one pretty cemented since one of my earlier astronaut rambles on near, so…

MATT: knight of breath. as we all know, this bitch only shows up for like 2 seconds so there’s probably a lot of room to consider other options here. i just kinda like how this reflects his role in helping mello + being a pretty chill, laid back dude most times we see him, but i’m certainly open to other takes for this one in particular.

NAOMI: sylph of mind. this is incredibly vibes-based. she’s got that interesting mix of brutality paired with loving motherhood-esque associations that feels very sylphy/kanaya to me, plus an analytical approach that feels fitting of a mind player.

BEYOND: heir of heart. there’s a lot of aspects that could fit beyond, honestly— blood, rage, doom, and time are all other considerations that could easily work as well. i just like heart for how he mimics L, and heir makes an interesting connection between him and near, though i considered mage too. also heart to match naomi’s mind etc. etc. (you may notice i’m quite partial to good connections/pairings like that, even if it doesn’t fit the individual perfectly— classpecting is just as much a social thing as a personality test, in my mind. but i digress.)

KIYOMI: maid of life. i haven’t essay posted about kiyomi much but this one seems kinda fitting, though she perhaps interprets this title in a slightly different way than jane. someone go angst about kiyomi a little more so i can get a clearer read on her. life is also to match misa’s doom, as well as…

MIKAMI: knight of doom. i’m kinda hesitant to have two doom players on this list since they’re supposedly somewhat rare, but really, what else would fit for mikami? serving light his doom is basically his most notable action in the story, ultimately. guess it makes sense that DN would have a lot of doom about it, or at least it seems more like a doom series than, like, a rage series. in my humble correct opinion.

SOICHIRO: knight of blood. one final one where i’m more confident in the aspect than the class, but i think this one ultimately works— albeit in a very different way from karkat, ofc ahhakdjf. he serves his family, he works for the benefit of People. the tired dedication of blood just feels very soichiro all around.

[minmin-vs-physics]

Hey! I’m gonna be a physics major next year, and I was wondering if the Mac and iPad combo have worked well for you, or if there’s something else you recommend tech wise?

short answer: yes.

but, im gonna use this has an opportunity to yap about my current study set up. this goes without saying, but what worked for me may not work for you, and my set up evolved over the years as i found what was best for me.

i use an iPad for lecture notes and homework. i think its the most organized you can get them to be without straight up LaTeXing the shit out of them (and i know people who do exactly that, more power to them)

i just write faster than i type, and an ipad allows me to copy paste equations and add photos and stuff which is helpful for diagrams. i use goodnotes 5, and i will sing its praises till the end of time.

i think it pays to develop a clear style for your homework and lecture notes, bc your work will be easier to navigate. here's an example of my lecture notes and my homework.

[hehe general relativity moment]

HOWEVER, you will mostly be having paper exams as a physics student so i recommend you don't get too reliant on your iPad. i tend to do all my studying in notebooks, or loose sheets that i can refer to. practice problems are always on paper.

[stat mech studying i did last week]

i started using legal pads for this from the end of junior year bc they're so convenient! im also incentivized by the stock our dept keeps in the mail room.

i have to do a lot of calculations for research and i prefer to do them on paper or a blackboard if it's something im reasoning out. idk it's so much easier to be stupid on paper than on goodnotes. ofc my research log is kept digitally, but i keep a binder with all my old calculations (both correct, and incorrect) along with my main reference papers.

[i was flipping through this just now and realised how much bs is in it.]

LaTeX is a good skill to have which i didn't realise until too late. if you have to write any paper that's remotely scientific, LaTeX is the way to go. none of that google docs bs.

i use both vscode and Overleaf for editing. i mainly just LaTeX my finalized research calculations into one big doc. it's much easier to show my advisor. also it looks cool.

i got a monitor when my laptop screen broke sophomore spring (something inside me broke as well that semester it was so fun). and if you have the option, i would totally recommend getting one. it's useful having a second/bigger screen.

i use mine for a bunch of things: coding, reading textbooks, genshin impact, Netflix, grading.

on the topic of textbooks, i use digital bc im cheap. but i do buy secondhand physical copies that i rarely reference, but keep around bc it doesn't hurt to start your hypothetical professor office bookshelf early. i only buy the ones i actually respect, like Peskin's Intro to QFT. but the digital copies are usually much handier. i keep an extensive digital collection of books and papers i might never need.

don't be like me keep your digital library more organized!

and yeah circling back to electronics! i use a Macbook Pro rn which has served me well. i guess things are different if you need to run solidworks or other specialized software, but you can always use the lab computers, so that was never a problem. i have an apple ecosystem bc im a slut for capitalism.. i mean i was already halfway there and now im just really used to it, so i like all my devices being friends with each other. my tip is always get more RAM than you thought you needed, and double the storage. but maybe that's bc im mean to my laptop and love hoarding files.

i also keep all my previous notes and printouts so may be i have an academic hoarding problem in general.

in the end, a mix of old school and new age technology bs works best for me!

thank you for your question! i hope this helps :)

[accirax]

“Your mother is dead. You always omit that truth.”

As venus-is-thinking was rewatching DRDT’s Chapter 1 Free Time Events last night, she sent me screenshots of this one interaction between Charles and Whit, noting it as odd:

(She was right, btw. Whit, no matter how hard you try, you are not a normal man.)

Now, with the context of Chapter 2, we can probably assume that what Charles said here triggered Whit’s memories about his dead mom. There are a couple of options here, but the first one that jumped to my mind was that Whit was about to correct Charles, informing him that he actually learned how to cook himself. Obviously, he would then realize that saying this would bring up his mothers death, which he prefers to not mention, so he switches topics. While this option makes the most sense, given that Whit previously says, “teaching your kids how to cook is, like, the number one job of parents,” I would be surprised if Whit’s parents didn’t teach him how to cook at all.

It depends on how early in his life his mom died, I guess. And how long his dad has been away.

...wait, how long has Whit’s dad been away?

And then, an idea struck me. What if Whit’s dad doesn’t know that his wife is dead? What if Whit never told him?

This, of course, being a weightier spin on Whit’s secret, “Your mother is dead. You always omit that truth.” You omit that truth from who, exactly? People who already know what happened, or people like Charles and Teruko who don’t?

As I’m sure many people have assessed, Whit’s secret is comparatively pretty tame compared to the rest of the options. While his classmates are being revealed as manipulators and murderers, all we learn about Whit is a sad fun fact. But if Whit’s secret, in full, is actually “You never told anyone about the death of your mother, not even your father,” it becomes a much more severe secret.

Now, you might be asking, “if that’s the case, why wouldn’t Whit’s secret just say that outright instead?” Mastermind Whit interpretations aside, we have to remember that Despair Time is canonically a TV show. Assuming that Lin is watching his son on the big screen, as long as Whit’s secret says anything about his mom being dead, Lin would learn about his son’s concealment of the truth.

However, the question of why Whit’s secret wouldn’t be phrased like that for the sake of the other students remains. My best theory is this: it’s to make Whit suffer. I’m sure we all remember David’s heel turn in Chapter 2 Episode 11. After spewing his hateful monologue, he expresses how freeing it is to finally speak his mind.

For Whit, by not explaining what his secret is in full, they don’t give him the catharsis of expressing all of his thoughts and pain out loud. They still provide him the hopeful option of being able to salvage part of his story amongst the other students. While the motives of the TV show haven’t been expressly stated, it’s a pretty common killing game move to give the students hope just to rip it away and create despair, right...?

It’s like how Hu mentions that some secrets might be phrased unfavorably to make the students look worse. In this case, Whit’s secret could be phrased favorably with the intention of making him stressfully walk the edge of revealing the full truth and keeping it hidden. And, knowing Whit, there’s no way that he wouldn’t at least take a shot at repression.

Getting back to the secret itself, the way Whit talks about his family life also makes me believe that this could be the case. Through his dialogue, we learn that Whit lives a very solitary life. He talks about no one being home often enough to keep a pet, how lonely it would be to stay in the house all day, and how he’s befriended his neighbors’ dog and considers her family (but not the neighbors themselves?).

Sure, Whit is (barely) college aged, and college kids are typically considered able to live on their own. But Teruko and the gang believed that they were about to head to the Hope’s Peak entrance ceremony, so as far as Whit remembers, he only graduated high school very recently. If Lin knew that Elizabeth was dead, would he really leave his grieving teenage son completely alone in another country?

Because Whit’s dad doesn’t seem to currently reside within the United States, as far as I can tell. Maybe it’s just the Beetlejuice: The Musical fan in me, but I have to imagine that letting your kid grieve their dead mom whilst being completely isolated would be a very bad idea.

It would make sense to me if the reason why Lin allows this is because he doesn’t know. If Whit didn’t tell him the truth, either because it was too painful for him to say or because he didn’t want to jeopardize his father’s work abroad. According to Whit, his dad is “a real quiet dude,” so I could believe that he wouldn’t have any coworkers come up and console him for his loss, letting the cat out of the bag. The fact that he’s abroad further facilitates that idea-- how would Lin’s foreign coworkers even learn about Elizabeth’s passing when he himself doesn’t know?

You could run into problems if Lin went too long without seeing his wife, and started to wonder where she was. However, if Whit did something like impersonating his mom via text, it would be more possible for Lin to simply not notice that he hadn’t seen his wife in a while.

Venus also came up with the possibility that Lin is actually more of a deadbeat. He “works overseas” because, well, he lives there, having left his family behind. Whit could dye his hair blond not just to look like his mom, but also to look less like his dad. His skills as the Ultimate Matchmaker could have began at home with their split. It sounds a little implausible, but we know that Whit likes to ignore things that make him uncomfortable and put a positive spin on them.

At any rate, I believe this is a hypothetical worth considering. I definitely want to keep a closer eye on Whit’s backstory going further, as it’s possible that it’s not exactly what it seems.

[5secondsofmoxley]

Wrestling With Feelings // Part 2

Read Part 1 here

Quick reminder, I am not a pool expert. So the beginning of this chapter is brought to you today by Google 😂

————-

“Did you not see how bad I am? I’m a lost cause.” She huffed.

“You just need some guidance on aiming. It’s pretty easy once you figure out your grip.” Hook quickly reset the table for a new game. Once the balls were set, he put the cue ball in position and turned to her.

“Why don’t you start? You get an advantage when you can choose whether you wanna go for stripes or solid. If you get a good hit, you might be able to knock a ball right off the bat.” Hook stepped back, motioning her to take his place and go for the break.

She stepped forward hesitantly. Giving him once last glance, she focused on the task at hand. Leaning over the table, she lined up her stick with the cue ball. Hook had to remind himself that he was helping her learn to play better, focusing his eyes on her hands and not her ass. But damn, if she didn’t look good in those shorts.

“Are you sure I should start and not watch you take the first hit?” Startled from his thoughts, he quickly looked at her face, hoping she didn’t catch where his stare was. Two drinks and I’m thinking like a horny teen? Hook thought to himself.

Pulling his mind out of the gutter, he stepped forward next to her. “Right off the bat, I can show you how to hold the cue. Are you a righty, or a lefty?”

“Depends on what I’m doing.” Hook blinked at her. She sighed before adding, “for the most part, I’m a righty.”

Baffled at her response, he chuckled. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m ambidextrous, but for most things, like writing and such, I use my right hand. I can write with my left but it’s smoother with my right. But, I’m backwards when playing hockey, I was told I held the stick like a lefty. And I carry purses on my left arm. I don’t know, Tyler, I’m just weird like that. I walk my own path.” Ignoring the fluttering in his chest from hearing her say his name for what he’s pretty sure is the first time ever, he lets out a hearty laugh. He couldn’t help but find her nervous rambling absolutely adorable.

“Okay then. So, assuming that to play pool your right arm is dominant, you want to use that to aim. Your right hand is going to grip the back end of the stick. Use your left hand for the bridge. It’s basically just your leverage to hit the cue ball. Your right hand is doing all the work to aim and push.” Tyler leaned over, showing her what he meant as he explained it. “I’m going to break, but I’ll let you take the first shot after. Next round, you’ll break.”

“And that means?” She asked sheepishly.

“It just means you’re breaking the rack. Making the first hit after the balls are set in the triangle piece.”

“Oh, makes sense.”

Tyler smiled, shaking his head before making the first shot. Once all the balls stopped, he looked to her expectedly.

“Okay, I’m going now I guess.” She stepped to the table again before looking back at Hook. “Um, which am I going for?”

“Doesn’t matter, choose whichever you think you might be able to knock into a pocket right away.” He watched her as she walked around the table, carefully inspecting her options. He could see the gears in her head turning, but when he caught sight of her best shot, he guided her in the right direction.

“Come over here.” He motioned her to follow him to the side of the table. “This solid blue is your best shot. If you hit it at the right angle, and just the right amount of force, you have almost a clear shot into the pocket.”

“Tyler,” there’s that fluttering again, “I really think you have too much faith in me.”

“Lean in for your shot, and I’ll fix your form.”

She wiped a hand down her face, staring down her so called “best shot.” Leaning over the table, she took what she had thought was the correct stance.

Tyler hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was appropriate to lean over her and move her into better form. He couldn’t figure out a way to explain it to her that she’d understand. So, he convinced himself that she’d tell him if she wasn’t comfortable, before going in for the kill.

He took a breath before stepping next to her, and wrapping his right hand around hers. He gently twisted her hand, making it more comfortable for her and giving her a better grip. Moving his left hand forward, he fiddled with her fingers for a second to make her a better bridge. His eyes flickered to her face for a second, just in time to catch her eyes flicking back up to his from his mouth.

Holding eye contact with her, everyone else in the room disappeared. All the noise was drowned out, and suddenly it was just the two of them. Tyler couldn’t hear a thing besides his own heart pounding out of his chest. He wondered if she could feel it as he caught her just slightly pressing her back more into his chest.

And in his normal awkward fashion, instead of making a move, he helped with hers.

“Pull your right hand back, and just slide it forward with enough energy to hit the ball straight to the pocket.” He pulled his hand back, and since it was still firmly wrapped around hers, he gave her the perfect shot. The cue ball made contact with the solid blue ball and knocked it right into the corner pocket.

She turned her head just in time to catch the ball falling down the picket. Squealing excitement, she grinned at Tyler. “That’s the first time I’ve ever gotten the first shot! I mean, you did all the work, but it counts right?”

He laughed at that. “Yeah, ready to go for another?”

—-

“I can’t believe I actually won! Twice!” Tyler smiled at his feet, not having the heart to tell her he let her win one game. He wasn’t entirely sure she understood that she only won because he “accidentally” knocked the 8 ball into the pocket before his final striped ball. He was proud of the fact that she did legitimately win that second time. Hook was surprised how fast she picked up pool once she knew the proper way to hold the cue.

They had played 3 games total. She really got into playing after that initial game where he taught her how to play. He would’ve let her win that game, but he knew it would’ve been too obvious since she missed every shot he didn’t help her with.

“And you said you were a lost cause.”

“I would’ve been without you.” He swore she could hear how loud his heart was beating. They were walking shoulder to shoulder back to their hotel. Sometime during their second game, Danhausen had gone over to them seeing if they were ready to go. Hook was exhausted, but when he saw the look on her face, he decided he’d stay as long as she wanted to. So, Danhausen had left without them, promising to take their luggage back and not take anymore of Hook’s chip stash.

Tyler smiled at her, not knowing how to respond. Tonight had been amazing. Though most of their focus had been on playing, they really got lost in their conversations. He didn’t think he’d spoken to anyone nearly as much as he had with her during those few blissful hours.

A gentle nudge broke him out of his thoughts. “Give me your phone.”

Confused at the demand, but not worried too much about it, Hook handed over his phone without a word. He watched as she tried to get into it, but was locked out by Face ID.

“Unlock it, dummy.”

Hook snorted at the insult, but again, obliged without question. He watched silently as she opened his texts, and started a new conversation. After a few seconds, she handed him back his phone. Looking at the screen, he sees a simple “hi” text sent to an unsaved number. Hook looked back at her, just barely catching her creating a new contact on her own phone. She glanced at him after feeling his stare.

“I needed your number so we can set up that pool game to kick Adam’s ass. I’m no expert, but you seem pretty good at pool. And if I beat you twice, imagine how we’re going to crush Cole.” She smirked, getting a good laugh out of Tyler.

“You’re hell bent on beating him, aren’t you?” He chuckled.

“You don’t even know how many times Adam has destroyed me. This vendetta has been long brewing but now, you actually gave me a good fighting shot. Especially with you as my tag partner.” She nudged him again.

Nudging her back, he looked up just in time to notice them approaching the front doors of their hotel. Trying not to be too obvious, he took a couple big strides to reach the door in order to open it for her. She offered him a soft smile as she quietly thanked him. Looking at the ground for a second, she glanced back at him with a smirk. “Glad to see chivalry is thriving with you.”

Stepping in behind her, he hoped she didn’t catch the flush of his cheeks. He couldn’t remember a time a girl made him blush like she could. Hook tried to think of something that could return the favor and maybe even surprise her.

“Well, chivalry is just one of my many charms. Care for a knight in shining armor to sweep you off your feet?" Acting fast and with the help of the alcohol still in his system from earlier, he wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other under her knees to pick her up bridal style.

Gasping out a laugh, she quickly wrapped both arms around his shoulders as if afraid he’d drop her. “Tyler!” She giggled.

A few heads of the staff working through the night turned their way, but Tyler’s focus was fully on her. He couldn’t care less of who was watching them. He carried her to the elevator, managing to hit the up arrow without having to maneuver her much.

Stepping in once the doors opened, he looked down at her bright, smiling face. “What floor, milady?”

She shook her head, still laughing at the cold hearted handsome devil’s surprising silliness. “Third floor.”

Hook couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Same here.” He couldn’t thank the universe enough.

It was a short walk from the elevator to her room. He begrudgingly put her down, before asking her an important question. “Doesn’t Danhausen have your stuff still?”

“Nah, he brought it up to Kris. He knew we were staying together.” She stated, digging through her bag for her room key.

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, not sure what more to say. He wanted to say goodnight, but he also wanted to do something to guarantee they’d hang out again. He thought quick on his feet, before coming up with what he thought was the perfect excuse.

“Wanna grab breakfast in the morning? You know, for team bonding.”

A smile took over her face again. She shook her head, chuckling to herself. “Just for team bonding?”

“And for the most important meal of the day, yeah.” He played it cool, but he was almost positive she seemed to deflate just a little bit. He swore her smile dimmed for a split second. He cursed himself for that one.

“As long as you let me sleep till at least 11, and there’s coffee, I won’t say no to that.”

“Sounds good to me.” Tyler went to walk away, before she quickly laid her hand on his arm. He turned back to her, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Goodnight, Ty.” She kissed his cheek, shuffling into her room without giving him a chance to respond. He thanked the heavens she did though, he was sure there was no way she could’ve caught him blushing for the millionth time tonight.

Danhausen’s right, he thought to himself, touching a hand to where her lips touched, I do have it bad.

———————————-

{Taglist:} @shawtys-things

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tags! As of now, I think this is going to be a multi-chapter story I’ll be adding to sporadically.

[blood-choke]

Hi, I have a question about mc

So, I’m still in the beginning part of chapter two (mostly because I keep pausing to read other variations of my options I choose instead of just playing the game uninterrupted lol); and I was just wondering about some things.

I’ve gone through most asks on her about V and the way she treats mc when mc doesn’t go her way and I sort of understand her aggressiveness though it’s still triggering as I’ve not really seen the good parts, cuz my mc doesn’t trust her and finds her secretive nature suspicious; but I wonder like, was mc a bad person before entombment?

Like obvi everyone isn’t black and white and has grey areas in personality, but in the beginning Val just seems so triggered (?) that mc is alive again and here again with her. She only seems chill when you pick options that align with what she wants, but outside that, she seems truly disturbed like she needs to take a breather or sth.

This also came to mind cuz of how Hana talks about us TO us. Like saying how she expected us to not be like Val and her seeming disappointed that we were similar to Val, in that scene were we discover phones for the first time. Like, is that just cuz of the choice that prompted her jealousy, or is that because of how mc was a person before?

I hope I constructed those questions well lol, but it just makes me wonder if certain ways they react towards the mc are just cuz of how they are a people or cuz of how mc was as a person. Cuz it seems like she and Val had a pretty turbulent relationship; was that due to their personalities or the times they were in? I feel like that’ll be answered as the story goes on, but yeah; I do wonder if mc’s previous personality majorly influences how H and V act towards us.

this is not solely directed at you anon but i have gotten a lot of asks that essentially boil down to "who is the Correct one in this situation" and i've been kinda vague or ignoring the messages because it goes against the whole point of the story, but i've received enough questions like this i'm just going to do a blanket response to explain what my intention is with writing this and why there will be no straight answers to most of these questions.

i'll put it under a cut because it's going to be long (and i guess if you want to avoid potential spoilers). i'm not going to get into details, mainly just the overarching themes that i'm trying to communicate through the narrative and with characters like the mc and Valentina.

first, to start, let me talk about Valentina:

Valentina is written in a very intentional way. she is meant to be erratic and hypocritical and not very nice. she is hundreds of years old, and at this point nearly the entire last century of her life was spent in a controlling, abusive relationship. she is going to be both defensive and aggressive because she's still in a lot of pain and struggling to work through it. she has trust issues, she thinks everyone is using her for her money, she is very paranoid and sensitive. she, as the kids say, needs therapy. this does not absolve her of her poor treatment of Hana and the mc currently, but i hope this explains it better. she is meant to be a polarizing and challenging character.

i've said a few times now that you are never going to know who is telling the truth about Standard, you're never going to get a moment in game where it tells you exactly who is Right or Wrong. i've written Valentina the way i have because yes, you are supposed to doubt her, but also i'm a bit astounded by how many people seem to just have no sympathy for her at all (again not directed at you anon but just in general.) while you're never going to know if it was her idea or not, if she chose Standard or not, or even really know what happened between her and Julien, the indisputable facts are that she, as a lesbian, had to marry a man out of desperation and was forced to be his wife and daughter for nearly 90 years. she is not going to be well adjusted after this. she is not going to want to talk about this. she has valid reasons for being reluctant to share the horrible things that happened to her, as well as being a little suspicious.

she is a tragic character. she is the antithesis of the "perfect victim." we will get to have a bit of a "confrontation" with her at the start of the next chapter, and i'm hopeful that this will get across exactly why Valentina is the way she is in the text.

as for her relationship with mc, it has always been a bit intense, but they did love each other genuinely before. it's why mc did what they did to end up entombed in the first place. i would blame a lot of the problems of their relationship previously on the time period they were in. it wasn't easy for either of them. like i said before, being a vampire was not a get out of jail free card. it's been hinted at but mc and Valentina were living in poor conditions until the 1910s, where they finally started getting a foothold, by trapping and killing men and with mc themself dressing up as a man. but then what happened, happened, and mc was entombed in the 1920s.

was mc a bad person? i mean they very much did murder people along with Valentina. it's up to you how you feel about that. she murders people now in the demo. she's a vampire, she doesn't really have the same ethics as we do. was she bad to Valentina? sometimes. Valentina was bad to her, too. were they "toxic"? maybe. mc doesn't remember, and honestly Valentina doesn't remember that much either.

the mc waking up with no memory, while a convenient plot device in an IF game like this, was also done intentionally. you're never going to know if the mc was really a "bad person" though playing through you can probably feel that the mc does suspect that they were - is it true, or is this an insecurity around their butchness, a fear of her own masculinity? we don't know. part of the narrative is the mc reconciling this fact, as well as understanding that either way they can choose to be better - she's been given a second chance. she does not have to be a certain way because of who she is - the parallels being drawn between her and Standard are there to acknowledge this negative view of butches as just "men lite" as well as this bioessentialist idea that masculinity = bad. but just because the mc is butch does not mean she will end up like Standard or Atlas or Julien. and those three aren't bad just because they're men, they're bad because they choose to be bad and abuse their power over marginalized people. this is something that will be expanded upon as the story progresses and mc gets more comfortable in their identity and we see more of the council, particularly Sasha and Cassius.

and now with Hana, she's never met the mc before, so she kind of has this preconceived idea of her, and you do get that comment both because she's a bit jealous but also because she's afraid of the mc's jealousy. if you're at the start of ch2 you may have not had the conversation with Hana yet, but her irritation comes from the fear that you will get jealous of her and want to shove her out, despite her close relationship with Valentina, and this being her home, too. she assumes you're asking because you're trying to "sus her out" and decide whether you're going to align as friends or enemies. she says you're like Valentina in that regard because, like we touched on, Valentina is very paranoid and jealous.

to be clear i do understand the game is early on, we're only on ch3, so i don't expect readers to be able to magically intuit exactly what i'm writing (some of the stuff about mc is impossible to know at this stage). but i cannot stress enough that everyone in this story can be considered "bad" in some way, and you're not going to get a eureka moment where everything is clarified. it's meant to be messy and confusing. i'm never going to outright say "this character is the One True Villain, and this character is the Righteous one." hopefully this does clear a few things up, though, and better helps you (and everyone else that has been asking) understand what's going on, and what the deal is with both the mc and Valentina.

[guardian-of-da-gay]

They Pull Me Back In (Part 1/?)

Sequel to Throw It All Away

Read on Ao3

For Whumptober 2024 Prompt 17: Nowhere Else to Go

“I’m very strong.  I can lift things.  I have steely focus and high endurance,” Knuckles stood at attention as he rattled off what he hoped were his most employable traits.  “I’m talented with–” Weapons and fighting weren’t appropriate here, this was a handy-man shop, not the arena. “...landscaping and stone work.”

The black ram sat behind the counter of his shop and looked Knuckles up and down.  Knuckles knew what he was going to ask before he spoke: “What are you?”

Knuckles could lie.  Or let the ram take a guess and not correct him.  But he didn’t want to.  He was the last echidna and that meant he was the last one left to introduce himself and take pride in his species.  Once he was gone that was it.  He would only ever be what other people said he was.  But he wasn’t gone yet.  He puffed his chest.  “I am an echidna.”

The ram’s eyes widened and his lip curled.  It took a moment for him to gather his surprise and respond: “Is… Is it true you lay eggs?  Even though you are a mammal?”

Knuckles wasn’t sure how that was relevant.  “If I were a female echidna, yes.”

The ram blanched and made a gesture that Knuckles had come to recognize as one that warded off evil.  Great.  Of course Knuckles had to ask for a job from an owl-worshiper.  The ram seemed perturbed that Knuckles did not hiss and flinch back, nor burst into flames.  Instead Knuckles resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

He had once tried to explain to Sonic that he was like a black cat.  But the hedgehog had cut him off, laughing and insisting he meant to say he was a ‘black sheep’.  Typical Sonic, not listening, making his own assumptions!  His words didn’t even make sense!  Black sheep were not associated with witchcraft and devilry, otherwise this interview would be going very differently.

Behind him, a bell jangled merrily as the door to the shop opened.  He spared a moment to cast his senses out as he heard two sets of footsteps.  Without turning around he could tell the newcomers took up little air, carried no tension, smelled of bread and flowers, and had little to no chaos energy.  Not a threat.  He turned his attention back to the ram.

“If you know of my people’s reputation, then you know I am exceptionally skilled with plants,” he tried.  He wasn’t sure if he was in the part of the galaxy where the owl-worshippers admired or despised the echidna’s practice of manipulating chaos energy.  “Do you have any yard work I could assist with?”

“Not for your kind!”  Ah, the kind that despised it then.  “Get out of my shop, abomination!”

This time Knuckles did roll his eyes.  He had been called worse things and thrown out of better establishments by far more dangerous individuals.  But if he could acquire no work, he had no more need to be here.

The newcomers behind him had grown much more tense and he took care to side step them and avoid looking their way.  The last thing he needed was an angry crowd accusing him of frightening an innocent little rabbit girl.

The ram’s eyes followed him the whole way out.  The door clanged behind him as he made his exit.  He stepped out of view of the windows before he stopped and pulled out the little paper map he’d acquired.

Knuckles knew that he wouldn’t be able to swim to the bottom of the ocean to retrieve the Master Emerald.  He would need some sort of submersible.  If Tails weren’t a liar and a traitor who worshiped Sonic, the king liar and traitor, then Knuckles could ask him to build one, but he was, so that option was out of the question.  Unfortunately, any other builder or submarine owner would require some form of payment.  Knuckles didn’t know how much such a thing would cost, but he knew it was more than he had.  Because he had nothing.

Unfortunately, finding paying work was harder than he thought.  He’d walked into the first place he’d seen with a ‘help wanted’ sign and despite the fact that he’d cleaned his fur in the river just that morning, the aardvark behind the counter turned up her nose and declared he stank like a wild animal.  He had no money to waste on silly things like shampoo so he moved on.  His next few attempts were at warehouses, shipyards, and ships themselves.  All inquiries ended when they said they would need identification to confirm he had no criminal past.  He had no identification and he did have a criminal past.

And then there was the fact that technically as an ‘extinct’ species he wasn’t even legally a person in half the universe and so no one was obligated to pay him anything.  He had to keep his head down and eyes out for scavengers who would sell him into working for nothing.

The last person he’d talked to had suggested day labor and pointed out the handyman’s office.  “They don’t ask a lot of questions if you have a strong back and speak the language.”

Well, that was true at least–the ram had only asked two questions.  Knuckles would have to look around and see if he could find another similar type of business.  One that wasn’t run by an owl worshiper.  He crossed out the circled location on his map.

The door jangled open behind him.

Knuckles glanced over a moment, just to make sure it wasn’t the ram coming to chase him off.  It was only the two rabbits.  Except the elder one was looking directly at him.  Her long skirt swished as she strode toward him.

Knuckles straightened and tucked away his map.  Was he about to be chewed out for existing by some mommy rabbit?  She was smiling, but that meant nothing.

“I’m sorry that gentleman was so rude to you,” she said.  “Did I hear you say you’re good at yard work?”

That was not what he was expecting her to say.  He paused for a moment, considering if her words could somehow have been meant as an insult before he finally responded:  “...Yes.”

Her smile had dropped just slightly as she waited on his response, but it returned now.  “My name is Vanilla,” she said.  “And this is my daughter Cream!”

Knuckles’ gaze flicked down to the little girl.  She was holding her mother’s hand, her other hand wrapped around a little purse slung across her shoulder.  He confirmed that her eyes held more curiosity than fear and then returned his gaze to the mother.

“Our garden was badly damaged in that storm last week,” the rabbit said.

He gave a jerky nod as if he knew what she was talking about.  Or why she was telling him this.

“I’ve tried some repairs myself but it’s a lot of work and it’s only Cream and me, you see.”  He did not see.  He nodded like he did, because he did not want to upset the well-dressed lady with the little daughter.  “You said you were looking for work?”

Oh.  He realized suddenly: she was asking if he would work for her.

“I can pay of course,” she carried on.  “I don’t have much, but I can make up the difference with meals?”

“Mama’s a good baker!”  The little girl added.

‘Not much’ was better than Knuckles’ current state of ‘nothing’.  And he hadn’t eaten since… well, since before he left Earth.  His belly clenched uncomfortably just at the thought.  It was the Wachowski’s fault.  They had fed him so generously, he’d forgotten how to be hungry.  They’d been trying to cultivate dependence.  They must have–why else had they discouraged him from hunting and foraging for his own food?

But this wouldn’t be like that.  This would be food he earned.  Both he and this Vanilla woman would benefit from the arrangement.  Knuckles could trust that.

Still, he did not wish to get involved with this rabbit only for her to turn on him later, so he came straight out and said:  “I am Knuckles the Echidna.”  He searched her face for a reaction.  Her eyes widened slightly, as was typical, but she did not curl her lip or scrunch her nose in disgust so that was a step up from usual.

“Oh, like in my book!”   The child said.

“Cream,” her mother’s tone was disapproving.

Knuckles did not react.  He had yet to see a children’s book including echidna where they weren’t represented as villainous thugs.

“You’re friends with the chao!”  She said excitedly.  She reached for the little bag she carried and lifted the flap.

A little blue face flinched away from the light, blinking sleepily.

Knuckles stared.

The little creature seemed to start awake under his gaze.  It let out a cheerful trill, excited to meet someone new, especially someone so unique.  Tiny pink wings buzzed as the little thing drifted out of the bag and floated up to him.  Knuckles held out his hands like he would catch it if it fell, but of course it wouldn’t.  It made excited sounds as it admired him.  He admired it right back.

When he was the same age as this little rabbit girl, his father would tell him stories. Tales of a floating island, the echidna’s ancestral home.  A paradise where deserts and snowy mountains and fruit-filled jungles could all coexist under the warm power of the Master Emerald.  And the echidna’s neighbors in this paradise were child-like fae creatures that were innocent and playful and good.  After the Emerald was lost, their island paradise sank, taking most of their species and the little fairies with it.  Father said there were more on the surface, in special places.  Knuckles had hoped to visit his people’s ancestral neighbors, but had put the thought from his mind eventually.

But here it was: a chao!

“His name is Cheese!”  The little girl held out her hands and this time the little chao landed on her fingers.  He adjusted the little red bowtie on his neck, proud to be friends with his dear Cream.

Knuckles offered his hand to shake before he thought about it.  But it seemed this was a gesture the people of this world understood.  Or at least the little chao did.  Cheese eagerly took the tip of Knuckles’ glove in both of his little yellow paws and shook it.

The girl giggled.

The mother rabbit clasped her hands together, catching Knuckles’ attention.  He found the rabbit’s smile had shifted from merely polite to something warmer.  “I do hope you will consider my offer, Mr. Knuckles.”

“Ah.”  Knuckles cleared his throat and straightened.  The little fairy in his hands lifted off his fingers and he tried to hide his disappointment.  He watched as Cheese fluttered back to his Cream.

“I will take up your offer,” he said.  “Lead the way.”

“Oh.”  She seemed a little surprised by this.  “You’re available now?”

He had nowhere else to go.  But the rabbit lady didn’t need to know that, so Knuckles did not elaborate.  Instead he let her lead the way back toward her home.

With luck, this job would be the first of many.  Slowly but surely, he would work his way to getting the Master Emerald back.  And he would get fed.

Who needed those traitorous Wachowskis?

[bluecladone]

Beat Veilguard last night, here’s some of my thoughts (SPOILERS BELOW):

First, some positives: Holy shit this game is a visual gem. The art direction and set pieces really blew me away in some places. That mountain with the titan corpse? Treviso? The lyrium chamber with the Oracle? I can’t wait for the art book lol. Also the animations and hair physics are *chef’s kiss*. I was really worried about the animations as Bioware has repeatedly gone on record saying how difficult the Frostbite engine is to work with (and I’m still a bit scarred from Mass Effect Andromeda lol) but they seem to have finally mastered it here. I was surprised at how expressive Rook was and loved how nuanced the dialogue choices were. Somehow, no matter which dialogue option I chose, I felt that the delivery was exactly what I wanted or better. There were times where I wanted Rook to be angrier or meaner though lol. Also, the worlds weren’t nearly as linear as I feared they might be. I thought it was a good balance between open-world and linear level design.

Now for some things that irked me:

There were a lot of bad line reads, especially at the beginning. Bellara springs to mind, though when she wasn’t trying to sound quirky she actually sounded alright lol. Looking up her actress, it doesn’t look like she’s done a lot of voice work, so it could just be rookie mistakes. Then again, Ali Hillis—Harding’s actress (and Liara T’soni and Aloy)—also had some clunky line reads. My guess is that they probably weren’t directed very well. Considering most of the clunky dialogue is in the beginning of the game, it’s not too egregious. I think they both found their footing with their characters as they went along. There were also some things that were worded or represented weirdly but I don’t know if it was on purpose or not? The two instances I’m thinking of are when Bellara tells Rook about her brother, and when Caterina was killed. My problem is the refusal to really say “killed.” Bellara says something like “wherever [her brother] is” and the implication is that he’s dead, of course. But the dialogue choices were either offering condolences or asking intrusively what happened so I wasn’t given a hard confirmation of his supposed death until a later conversation. The same happens during Lucanis’s recruitment mission where, after returning to Crow headquarters, Illario tells us that Caterina was “taken” by Venatori. I automatically assumed she was kidnapped, (which turns out to be the case, but I digress) since we just sprung her grandson from mage jail. That is, until Lucanis later swears that her death will be avenged, and I was like “Oh. Well maybe I missed something, even though I don’t think I did?” For hours afterward I was really confused by the coded language used and wondered why no one would just say dead or killed lol. But then it turns out that both characters are alive after all, so maybe it was on purpose? I guess? It was a clunky set up, if so.

Which leads me to my next gripe: during the mission to help with Caterina’s funeral, Lucanis tries to ask Illario about the details of the murder, (where did it happen, how was she killed, etc.) and doesn’t get a straight answer. Then Illario is weird about picking up “Caterina’s” ashes, which not only immediately made it obvious that he was a traitor, but also baffles me that the Crows somehow fell for the body double ruse twice in a row?? Not a lot of discerning people in a faction where the correct body should be tantamount to their success, no? Then, when it is glaringly obvious to the cast that Illario is the traitor, they just...kind of sit on that info and do nothing about it?? No warning to Teia and Viago, or anything? Honestly, everything about the Crows bothered me a lot lol. I didn’t like that they were portrayed as this plucky, lily-white faction of underground freedom fighters when we know that’s not how they operate. Not saying that they can’t be a terrible organization and patriotic, but the game does nothing to portray them as the neutrally evil entity they’ve always come off as. According to Zevran, they buy children from brothels and if they fail training, they’re killed. If they survive, they’re tortured to build their resistance to pain. Not to mention how Caterina used to beat Lucanis with a cane to correct him as a child, yet they still act weirdly warm toward one another. I get family is complicated, but geez. Maybe the Crows of Treviso are a softer touch, but I doubt they’d last long if that were so. I just wish the writers had tried to make them more morally gray than what we’re shown. I honestly forgot they were supposed to be scary assassins most of the time lol.

Some other little things before I move on to the big ones (besides the Crows lol):

While I loved Taash and loved getting to help them discover themselves, I was a little sucked out of the narrative by the ham-fisted lesson on gender identity lol. I get that they probably wanted to give a rundown for people who aren’t familiar with the topic, but I don’t think anyone who’s made it this far in the series isn’t at least somewhat familiar with the concept or are trans/non-binary/genderfluid. The Dragon Age fandom is very colorful that way lol. I could tell it came from a good place, at least. It was just funny to see the characters all but face the camera and say, “Hey kids, here’s a primer on gender identities for the uninitiated.” I didn’t really understand why Shathann was so hung up about Taash’s identity when Iron Bull flat-out tells us in Inquisition that the Qun has words and beliefs for people who identify that way and that they’re pretty chill about it. Not to say that EVERYONE in the Qun is likely to be chill about it, but still. Shathann even gives the same explanation before being interrupted, so it had me scratching my head a bit.

Then there was Bellara’s little “follow your heart” speech which made me roll my eyes a bit. Just a bit too corny and stereotypical for me personally. There are plenty of anecdotes about staying true to oneself without having to explicitly rely on the words “follow your heart.”

I got locked out of Lucanis’s romance without realizing until it was way too late lol. I don’t expect the game to be like “WARNING: CHOOSING MINRATHOUS OVER TREVISO MEANS YOU CAN’T FUCK THE HOT ITALIAN” but I feel like locking the romance entirely is kinda mean, especially after I looked it up and saw you could still romance Neve if you choose Treviso instead. As far as I know, Lucanis is the only romance option that gets locked because of a choice you made. I didn’t realize why I wasn’t getting flirt options until several hours later when I looked it up, after completing a shit ton of sidequests lol. Didn’t help that Lucanis is absent from the team for a good chunk of time afterward, and I’m a stickler for getting as many sidequests done as I can before moving on with story missions. I knew I could flirt with any of the other companions but it felt a bit late in the game to start at that point, and I was worried it might effect the pacing of the romance, so I just went without. Romance is kind of a big part of the appeal of these games to me, but it’s not everything. I thought about reloading an old (very old, by that point) save, but I didn’t want to deal with the frustration. Besides, I thought, if the game still holds up despite missing out on this one thing I was kind of looking forward to, then that speaks to its merits. I still had a good time overall, and am already starting a second campaign to explore some other choices and finally make that manlet mine lol. Still, it is quite annoying when choosing to save Minrathous is clearly the right call in my opinion. The game itself doesn’t make much ado about the consequences of leaving Treviso to fend for itself besides the civilian casualties. But it definitely makes leaving Minrathous sound more alarming. (You’ll basically be handing over the most powerful city in the North over to the Venatori and Evanuris. Treviso doesn’t have a giant floating castle with magic weapons that can pick a single target out of a crowd of people lol. Also the game acts like there wouldn’t also be a high civilian toll for some reason.)

While I feel that reading the tie-in books and comics isn’t required to get an understanding of certain characters and whatnot, I feel like it adds important context and makes you actually somewhat care for the fate of a lot of the characters in the game. It’s frustrating to track all that stuff down and read it, though most of it is covered in Tevinter Nights, however I might feel about some of the writing in that one lol. I suppose it could be argued that none of the Dragon Age games have ever been guaranteed sequels since its inception, so this was the next best thing to offer closure and/or extra worldbuilding just in case. In fact, the ending to Veilguard kinda feels like they’re trying to keep it open for a sequel since there are some minor loose threads, (And an end screen that basically says the Veilguard stands prepared lol) but who knows if we’ll see one. EA has never seen Dragon Age as a priority IP, since it’s an RPG and those can be hard to make into bestsellers. They’d rather focus on something more like Mass Effect— a traditional third-person shooter with some RPG elements—which we’re almost certainly getting another of. Hopefully. If there ever is another Dragon Age, I really struggle to imagine what in the world it would even be about.

Another gripe is the fact that Morrigan is not at all as prominent in the game as we maybe expected. (At least, I did lol) It’s not that big of a deal to me, but it does make me wonder why they even put her in the game. I guess to give the player an explanation about Mythal and her relationship to Solas, and to give over the aspect thingy if you do all the sidequests in the Crossroads. It didn’t really warrant Morrigan’s presence, though. Then again, I’m sure the fans would have rioted if she hadn’t been there. I guess I wish they would have utilized her more, and better lol.

The same can be said of the Inquisitor, but at least they had the excuse of keeping the South together while Rook did their thing. (Which would be a great idea for a dlc/expansion; playing as the Inquisitor and maybe seeing more about the choices made in the last game since we didn’t get to see many in Rook’s journey.) Though I do have a big problem with an Inquisitor who still wants to redeem Solas after everything he did, which I’ll get into more detail later. An Inquisitor who romanced him and still wants to get back together with him is doubly icky, but once again, I’ll come back to it lol.

Now the big things:

Varric. Oh, my poor, poor Varric. I made a post a while back about how I thought I might not enjoy the game as much if it turned out he died right at the beginning, and well...I was half right. His death was a twist I really didn’t see coming, and I’m honestly not sure how to feel about it right now. I admire the bait and switch for how clever it is, but am a bit frosty about how cruel it is, too. It feels a bit dumb to say for a fictional person, but I truly think I’m in mourning for Varric. I remember how I lamented in my old post about how it would have been so unsatisfying for him to die among strangers who barely knew him, away from the people that loved him best. This was softened somewhat by his relationship with Rook. Clearly, Rook cared about Varric a lot as a mentor, and possibly even as a father figure. (It helped that I headcanoned my Rook as someone who was separated from her parents at a young age and therefore craved that connection.) It’s still upsetting that I was half right with my prediction, and my heart breaks when I think about the Kirkwall gang not being there when he died, especially Hawke. Once again, I’m unsure of how I’m feeling about all this. I’m upset, but also aware that he couldn’t last forever, despite my wishes lol. Would it have been better to hear about him dying offscreen in a supposed sequel or tie-in book/comic? I’m upset Solas killed him, but I can’t decide if it’s out of character for him to have done so. I was surprised he stabbed Varric when it happened, but it’s not like he didn’t give Varric a warning when he broke Bianca. And he did kill Mythal, who he was closer to than anyone, despite how complicated their relationship got. I still need to reflect on all of it, and maybe my opinion will change when I have a clearer head. What I took the most exception to was the Inquisitor’s reaction to it as one who both romanced Solas and wanted to redeem him. Looking back on how you get to choose whether she gets back together with Solas or not leaves a bad taste in my mouth. At this point, the Inquisitor is obviously aware Varric is dead and that it’s Solas’s fault. I feel like even the most besotted, kindhearted Inquisitors would have trouble reconciling that, regardless of how close they might or might not have been to Varric. He was part of the inner circle, integral to stopping Corypheus. I feel like that should warrant some kind of reconsideration on her part. I’d be fine if she still wanted to redeem Solas, but pursuing a romantic relationship with him despite everything he’s done not only to Varric, but the world...it’s just gross to me. Maybe the Inquisitor sees Rook’s encouragement to get back together as some kind of forgiveness towards Solas on Rook’s part? I don’t know...it takes quite a bit of mental gymnastics on my part lol. But maybe others feel differently. I’d love to hear someone else’s opinion on the matter. As it is, the kiss before Solas and the Inquisitor disappear was soured for me. I might go back and try some of the other ending choices to see how I like those, but for now I’m focusing on another playthrough with an Inquisitor who did not romance Solas and swore to stop him. We’ll see which I like better lol.

Another big issue is, while I totally expected Solas to betray Rook at some point, the way it was handled was not very good in my opinion. Why, of all times, would Solas turn on us after killing Ghilan’nain? I know it’s likely a pride thing, or possibly he’s lost faith in Rook’s efficiency after they get one of their people killed. (Or more, depending on your choices for the assault, but I looked up the optimal choices after getting Harding killed so I didn’t traumatize myself further lol. Sorry Davrin and Assan :’(.) In fact, I was so confused by Solas’s timing that I thought it was actually Elgar’nan fucking with Rook’s head as revenge lol. Anyway, deaths in the line of duty didn’t seem to phase Solas in the past, though we do see that memory in one of his regrets. It just seemed hasty for him to immediately banish Rook to the Fade prison when they’re the one who’s done all the heavy lifting so far. And somehow, Solas seems surprised shit doesn’t work out like he planned later, but once again, I guess that’s his pride at work. This is also a complicated one for me that I think I need more time to puzzle out. I just have a hard time reconciling how someone so smart could be so dumb. Even when he was at his most powerful, he still had help from Felassan and other rebels. And yes, while Solas does take charge of Rook’s faction after trapping them, I highly doubt they compare to ancient elves with powerful magic and spirits. Credit where it’s due though, I was concerned when Solas had that line in the beginning about “abhorring blood magic” when he says the opposite in Inquisition. I can see now that it was clearly a lie meant to put Rook more at ease. Or at least, that’s how I saw it.

Overall, I did enjoy the game, despite my many problems with it. That being said, I think the mass layoffs at Bioware really made the game suffer in the writing side of things. Hopefully the new staff finds their footing after this, and I wish them the best of luck.

R.I.P. Varric Tethras, a self-admitted liar who could be honest to a fault, whose charm captured me from the moment I met him. He’s the charismatic character all writers strive to create.

[arealphrooblem]

synopsis: protagonist makes a deal with their villainous cousin for control of the family fortune after the death of their parents.

tw: brief mention of car accident, parental death, marriage between cousins

The antagonist drags his gaze slowly up from his desk to their face. His eyes look like chips of ice, cold with fury. It makes their heart fly up in her throat.

“How did you get out,” he asks slowly. “Again?”

The protagonist doesn't answer – he will know soon enough when he sends his security detail to tear the place apart.

“Does it matter?” they ask instead. “The guards, locking me away, taking my phone. You’re acting like a villain in a fairy tale and it's unnecessary.”

“Is it?” He leans back in his chair, his full attention settling on them like a heavy cloak. “You’ve made three escape attempts – four if you’re counting this conversation right now. I can’t very well marry you if you’ve disappeared and I am not going another day without what your family owes me. So what other options am I left with?”

“You could have just asked me.”

They can tell from the tilt of his head, the rise of his eyebrows, that they caught him off guard. It gives them a small bit of satisfaction, a boost to their courage.

“Asked you?” he repeats flatly. “You really expect me to believe that you would have said yes?”

His eyes flit over their face, disassembling them. The protagonist had swallowed their father’s beliefs that the whole of that side of the family were nothing but thugs and criminals, people who committed violent atrocities for petty reasons because they were too stupid for other solutions. But faced with him, the sharpness of his gaze, the brutal efficiency of his actions, disproves everything her father had said.

They have no hope to trick or beguile him. Not that they, in their sheltered glory, would even know how. Their father brought her up to be the perfect rich, submissive trophy spouse for whichever family would benefit him most.

“You would have been the first person in my family to ask me anything.”

No, the only thing they have is the bare truth. And that seems to throw him off more than anything else. Something flickers in his eyes before he deftly covers it up.

The protagonist dares to step a little closer to his desk, until they stand in between the two chairs seated in front.

“What is it that you want?” they ask softly. “My money, my father’s businesses? My house? You can have it. I don’t want it and I’m not going to fight you for it.”

His gaze turns shrewd. He’s been watching them this whole time with a placid, inscrutable expression, finger resting against his lips. The only hint that he might listen to them is the sudden sharpness in his eyes.

“What is it that you want?” he asks instead.

A breath rattles out from their lungs, one they didn’t realize they were holding. “My whole life my parents treated me like a doll, like a pet. I had no control over the way I dressed, the friends I had, the hobbies I cultivated, the school I attended, the classes I took. I don’t care what you do with my inheritance, with the family fortune, with my father’s affairs. I just want to be free.”

His head tilts ever so slightly to the side. “You weren’t crying in that hospital bed from grief – you were crying in relief. And guilt, no doubt.”

They swallow and look away. The fact that Protagonist survived the wreck that killed their family was seen as a curse. But they saw it as a miracle.  There’s no use in denying it, but neither can they bring themselves to confirm it.

“Very well,” he says, tone turning brisk. “I know the beginnings of a deal when I hear one. I’m guessing in exchange for your freedom you will marry me willingly and without fuss and hand over your rights to your inheritance to me. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” they say, trying to keep their voice even.

This is their last hurrah. They have nothing else left except perhaps to jump from the top story window. They’d rather not join the family so soon.

He hides everything so well – not unlike the protagonist. They have both been taught to seal everything behind a wall of some sorts. Theirs of placid obedience and easy smiles and he – a glacier. But as far as they can tell he seems to take the proposal seriously.

“And what does freedom look like to you?”

It’s a dream they’ve cultivated for many many years. One they thought they could touch when recovering after the crash, until he showed up in their hospital room with lawyers and threats.

“A small cabin in the Alps. A monthly stipend for books and paint. To be left in peace and no one to look for me.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

They do not need expensive clothes or a hundred rooms or servants or private jets. They just need to be able to wake up every morning and choose something for themselves.

“You’re a terrible negotiator,” he says.

They could never hope to outmatch him. They only have the truth.

“There is nothing else I want.”

Another long look between them. They're not sure what he’s looking for – duplicity, perhaps. Guile. To him it must sound too good to be true.

Then he stands up, his long legs unfolding, and walks around the desk to tower over them. One long fingered hand sticks out. 

“We have a deal, cousin.”

They shake his hand. He does not squeeze it with the show of strength their father’s friends would do or hold it like glass the way their mother’s friends had done. He gives them the firm handshake of an equal.

And then he pulls them close, sending them stumbling, his firm grip the only thing keeping their balance.

“If you run off again, I will find you,” he murmurs, his eyes pinning them like a moth to a mounting board. “And after I drag a justice of the peace to marry us, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

They swallow, throat dry, heart racing.

“You have my word that I won’t leave if I have your word that I’ll be free after,” They whisper.

He releases them and steps away, back to the safety of his desk. “We will have your things moved back to your room this afternoon.”

[dandelion-system]

Finally going to get a referral to the persistent pain clinic. Which is neat, because yay they can help us be in less pain! BUT! the option that seemed to most promising (a tens machine) I can’t use, because I’m allergic to the adhesive they use on the sticky patches (including the allergenic ones. I’ve tried them.) and I don’t know what other options there are, except, and this is the ‘fun’ part, therapy for restricting my activity or using mobility aids.

I’ve been told that this clinic doesn’t recommend pain management with meds, and that’s fair enough, meds haven’t worked for me before. I know that they will offer cbt for my chronic pain, which, just… I’ve had cbt before and it just traumatised the hell out of me. It probably wouldn’t traumatise me this time, but it sure as hell won’t work. I know that I’ll get physio or something for it, but I can now categorically prove that no amount of exercise or rest is going to help me unless I make it a perfect balance and forsake the rest of my life for it. Which leaves the only other option I can think of as a mobility aid.

I own a cane. I used one for a few months last year when it got really bad. Over the summer, I managed my pain well enough to stop needing to use it. Lately, I’ve found myself wanting it again. The thing is- our mum is NOT happy about us using a mobility aid. I know she’s ashamed of us seeming disabled. Hell, I’ve been telling her for three, four years that there’s something wrong with me and she’s only just two months ago started to genuinely believe me, after seeing the numbers on a medical device. (My blood pressure PLUMMETED and that time I didn’t even feel dizzy.) she just doesn’t seem cool with it. I have this feeling that she would rather we restricted our life and gave up on doing things and being a normal young adult (19) so I don’t need to use a cane. I don’t know if it’s because she sees it as weakness, and she’s always had a think against appearing weak, or whether she thinks it reflects badly on her, or she’s trying to look out for me and thinks I’ll be judged. But hell, there are so many things I was able to do when I was using it, just because I was using it.

And I don’t really understand why. A lot of our pain is in our back and shoulders anyway, but from what i can gather that pain stems from having to be so conscious and ut so much effort into keeping the correct gait and posture to walk. We’re unbalanced and slow, and have a ‘drift’ (we can’t really walk in a straight line unless we pay reaaalllllyyyy close attention). I guess having that extra point of contact was just enough to balance us out, and we could finally exist without exerting extra energy into just functioning? I don’t know, that’s my best guess. And I may go to the pain clinic and they say i shouldn’t use it and give me something else to manage it with (but fuck them if they say do therapy and stay at home and exercise because I’ve TRIED that and it’s not gonna work.) maybe they say a different mobility aid would suit us better. I don’t really know. What I DO know is that it would be so amazing to be able to not be in pain just from existing, and it’s possible, i just have to turn my life upside down for it.

God, I guess this whole post is just me saying ‘please dear Lord or whatever is in control of fate or whatever don’t let them just tell me to do therapy and exercise I beg of you’

[reds-skull]

Hi sending this as an ask so you can answer it whenever it’s convenient.

The Hunter (and his men) knew way to fucking much about Simon and it was fucking creepy (great job!). The only person I can think of who would have that info and motive to go after Ghost would be Roba. He’d have the knowledge and hatred of Ghost and it would take time to build back his forces after Ghost dismantled them the first time. Turning and placing moles, building up a loyal army with enough money to hire Ghost not to mention the (red)skull motif and his apparent age. I know I’m probably wrong but is fun to guess and I’m super excited to find out what’s going on regardless.

I really liked this fic and I’m sad it’s almost over Ghost and Soaps relationship through the whole fic was handled really well and I think felt organic. From their first meeting (Soap was feral and Ghost didn’t know what to think lol) to Soap repeatedly saving Ghost’s life (metaphorically and literally) to eventually finally trusting each other (and those around them) and realising their mutual feelings.

Gaz is the best friend ever and is not paid nearly enough to put up with Soaps (and now Ghosts) bullshit. The man was ready to throw down if needed but still listened to trusted and trusted Soaps judgment, meanwhile Price is having multiple nervous breakdowns (respect) and is still keeping is children men inline and on task. He feels so guilty about failing Simon and MacTavish when it wasn’t even his fault both times to begin with it was out of his hands. This time though he’ll save them.

It’ll be interesting to see what Laswell turns up with after she finishes hunting down their leak… I almost feel sorry for whoever it was.

I loved the parallels between the story and the snippets of poem, that was so well done and cool! Am I correct in reading that you wrote those poems yourself? Because I didn’t realise till I got to the end note and wow i don’t even have words… I thought they were off some old poetry anthology I’d never head about and was going to look it up to read it.

Hi! Thank you a lot of the kind words <3

I do like your theory about Roba being the Hunter, and I do agree it would be the only logical option for their real identity... if it weren't for the poems.

I'm so happy you found Soap and Ghost's relationship dynamic organic, it was a part I struggled with, and I'm not sure that I managed to execute exactly as I wanted haha

I feel so bad for Gaz and Price in this AU, unfortunately everyone kinda got the short end of the stick with how the turn of events meant the 141 was never fully formed...

I don't plan on showing exactly what happens to the rat Laswell eventually finds, but you can be assured they'll probably suffer. She can definitely be scary when she feels the need to.

And I'm so so glad you mentioned the poems! Yeah, I wrote them but I was heavily inspired by a specific collection of English poems from the 10th century (the correct word for it is a codex actually but it's basically a collection). I'll be going in depth about what exactly is going on there in the post script, because it's basically another story I told in parallel to the main one in the fic. And I'll certainly give the name of the codex so you can read it, it's a little complicated to understand because it had to be translated from Middle English (and apparently every word there can be interpreted in like 3 different ways, not to mention the amount of missing pages and possible mistakes from copyists, but that's part of the course with books from over 1000 years ago...). The stories told there, and the language they used to convey them, is really unique and beautiful in my opinion.

I was kinda sad when no one seemed to bring it up, I figured most people just skipped them or they were just sort of too confusing lol, which is why I'll basically explain what I wanted the reader to understand from them in the post script (which I plan on posting at the same time as the last chapter, unlike with Not Alive, Nor Dead). The post script will also have a timeline for the fic, and how exactly it diverges from canon, as well as the deleted scenes and an extra poem I couldn't fit in the fic.

For now, I'll say the true identity of the Hunter is tied to those poems, and their character wouldn't really make sense if you skip them...

[themuffin2649]

Choices

Instead of MC having the ability to see choices, that power was accidentally given to Leon and Vincent

Scenario 1 - Leon

—————

Ok, I’m suck in a the last Visual Novel with murderous Yanderes, hopefully I can survive this. I just gotta choose the correct options on Leon’s route.

The boy said, worried, while following his brother to school.

“Umm, don’t you usually go to school with Leon?”

SHIT! How the Hell was I supposed to know that?! There wasn’t even option to do anything about it!

“Y-Yeah, right! I’ll be on my way!” I said, running before bumping into someone.

“Ohh, I so sorry!”

“Did you forget about me?” A pink haired boy said, tears tingling his eyes.

All of a sudden, the boy’s sad experession was met with surprise, his eyes dialated they repeatedly shifted up and down as if trying to choose which spot to punch him.

Oh God, this is where I die! I BARELY got started! Why did this have to be the game I was thrown into?! EVEN ______ __________ WAS A SAFER OPTION!!!

Leon then extended his hand and helped his friend up. He then went quiet in awkwardness, why did I think he would kill his best friend of 8 years in front of his brother in a public place?! Now I feel Stupid…

“The train’s here.” My brother said grabbing our attention to get on.

Most of the train ride was awkwardly silent, not a single one of us made a sound, which was odd because I remember Leon being much more talkative and outgoing when I played the game.

“Hey guys…”

“What is it?”

Leon shifted his gaze away in worry before taking a deep breath.

“So… if two, text-no large umm no, sorry, two figures only you can see came up to your face telling you different options, and you had no choice but to pick one of them to listen to, how would you react?”

“Umm, go see a doctor?”

Wait, why is Leon asking this? He never said anything like this in the original game.

“Umm, pick the better option?”

“Yeah, thanks…”

“Wait, why did you ask us this?”

“It’s, uhh, I show I watched.”

“What kind of show?”

I could feel Leon getting more worried the longer this drags on, realizing he’s only digging himself a deeper grave.

“It’s… uhh…”

Feeling bad, I decided to help him.

“Let me guess, what it from ___ _________ ___ ______ and you were thinking about one scene where ____ had his angel and devil version of himself telling him what to do.

“Y-yeah, Yeah! I was wondering how you would react if that happened to you.” He said with a chuckle.

The rest of the train was back to that silent awkwardness.

I wondered why Leon asked about that, maybe he’s being more tame? I couldn’t stop wondering that even as I noted what I remembered about him and the other Love Interests.

—— Leon POV ——

What the hell is going on?! What were those choices? Am I hallucinating?!

The poor confused boy wondered about the two options that popped up in front of him, saying “Help him up.” Or “Punish him.”

What do they mean? And why did he have to choose? Why is this happening to him?!

—————

Scenario 2 - Kindness

The game, tired as hell seeing Leon and Vincent fight 24/7, decided to take things into its own hands.

Leon: “You’re one to talk! I bet that you can’t even go one day without spending a thousand dollars on crap!”

Vincent: “What’s wrong with a little self care? At least I don’t smell like a wet dog like you do!”

Leon is just about to punch him when all of a sudden, a visual novel choice called “apologize to him.” Pops us.

Leon: “Vincent, I’m sorry for cursing at you, it was very rude of me.”

Vincent was about to laugh at Leon’s apology, until the choices forced him to apologize too.

“And I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have shouted those insulting personal attacks, it was immature of me.”

Both were just flabbergasted on what they both were forced to say, they both figured out that they weee forced to apologize to each other.

All of a sudden, another option appeared in front of both their faces.

“Compliment him.”

“Hey Vincent, your a very charming guy, and I really appreciate how you don’t see my friend as lesser than you because of your difference in money.”

“Leon, you’re a loyal and protective friend, and respectful too. You’re also a great athlete on the basketball team, which is a very admirable trait.”

Despite them giving compliments to each other, it somehow felt worse than when they were insulting each other.

They were then given another form of torture, having to “Hug it out”.

They both tensed up as they hugged, Vincent holding his breath, and Leon wanting to crush Vincent until his bones broke, and his organs were squeezed into a pulp.

Finally, a final choice appeared, making them both gag. The option saying to “Kiss him Passionately”

“Uhh, hello, God?! Is there another option you can give to us?”

“A second option would be very useful right now!”

However, there was another option they could choose.

“Spend 8 years in Cameroon becoming a Professional Frisbee Player.”

Both of them looked at each other with pure silence, both knowing they just screwed up any second chance at avoiding the make out session that was destined to happen.

~~~

“Hey Big Bro, I found a shortcut we can use to get to the deli quicker.”

“Are you sure about this Little Bro? That alleyway seems kinda sketchy.”

“Relax, I got that pocket knife Leon gave to me as a gift, I still know how to use it. Besides, I’ve got enough muscle to defend you, I’m ready for anything!”

Wow, way to rub in my noodle sticks for arms.

“Lead the way Little Bro.”

The boys then went into the alleyway, and turned a corner, only to be met with a jaw-dropping sight.

Somehow, out of the billions of possibilities that could have happened, they just so happen to see Leon and Vincent in the middle of a passionate makeout, their tongues snaking around each other as they taste… whatever they ate last.

“You know how I said I was ready to take on anything… I instantly take that back.”