#it’s like that Mato comic I made

[bubblybloob]

Thanks for the words everyone, it’s really nice to hear, I’ll try to get back to myself.

[jccatstudios]

Hi! What are some of your favourite comics you've read? Is there a particular one that inspired you to start making your own? When did you decide that was what you wanted to do?

Oooooh that is a dangerous question to ask (I could talk about my favorite books forever) (don't ask about my book collection spreadsheet).

The comic that made me want to make comics was Pokemon Adventures by Hidenori Kusaka and Mato. I was around eight at the time, and I had read other comics before that, but nothing stuck like the first three volumes. Some of my first comics were Pokemon fan comics made from folded pieces of copier paper stapled together and drawn in pencil.

My favorite comic is of course One Piece by Eiichiro Oda (I'm sure my badge gave that away haha). I've been a fan since I was 11 or so, and this series has caused my bookshelf to collapse not just once but twice! While Pokemon Adventures made me want to make comics, One Piece inspired me to become a professional comic creator. To make something like that (perhaps not at that scale but in impact), something that makes so many people around the world have better happier lives, is my ultimate goal as a comic creator.

For art, I love stuff like My Hero Academia, Death Note, Bakuman, Fraction and Aja's Hawkeye, and The Promised Neverland. For writing, I like Hark! A Vagrant, Mob Psycho 100, Chainsaw Man, and Pluto. That's certainly not to say I don't like the writing of the art comics or the art of the writing comics. I just appreciate them for different things. For comics I'm in the middle of reading but haven't been able to catch up completely yet, I love Blacksad and Golden Kamuy.

I'll stop there since I have work to do on page 18 and I could go on forever about any of these, but go check these comics out!

[silverskye13]

6, 8, and 29 for the ask game

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

Incarnate Inchoate -- underoriginal (unfinished)

Anything to Hear You (Say It One More Time) -- mgrnn

To Convey A Certain Brilliance -- Bee_4

Devil Town is Colder in the Summertime -- BananasofThorns

Hellfire -- Renwhit

[squints] I think that's every fic I've read more than once lol. I'm a Book Devourer so I normally just read a thing once really quickly and then promptly forget it exists. I Have Brain Like Swiss Cheese. AO3 bookmarks and digital libraries are the only reason I stay sane XD

8. What project(s) are you currently working on?

Redstone and Skulk Ch 20: ~ 1300 words, all of them from this week

Monsters Splitting Hairs Ch 28: ~ 2000 words, about 500 of them from this week

Unnamed Superhero AU with OverlordPink: No idea the word count XD less then 1000 I think

Before I Wake (original comic): Pg 27 finished, Pg 29 sketched

I keep a rotation so I don't get bored XD means overall less work on a single project gets done but! Everything gets done eventually.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Nobody asked for this but I have 5 chapters of Nailmaster's Folly [a Hollow Knight fic] I dropped, just done and languishing in my documents. I'm not going to subject you to all 5 of those chapters, but I will make you read the 2 I'm most proud of. So uh, here's a very out of context chunk from Nailmaster's Folly I guess.

Oro was halfway down the canyon when his guilt got the better of him and he stopped in his tracks. His insides were a tangled web, and no amount of grousing and grumbling to himself would soothe the knot it made. It bothered him a great deal, apparently, that Mato was scared of him. 

Was Mato scared of him? No… surely not. It had been years since -- and honestly Mato was so much more capable -- sure Oro was pretty abrasive but he wasn’t--!

Oro shook his head.

Maybe he’d misread. It had been years, years he’d been in his solitude and Mato had been in his. Maybe they were both just so extremely culture-shocked and awkward that he’d read it wrong. Maybe he was just tense because of how suspicious he was, because of how stubbornly he held onto the idea that Mato must be here for some kind of… retribution? But Mato was never the type for things like revenge. He believed in accountability, yes, but not maliciously so. All of this was ridiculous.

And he’d looked so happy cheering him on while watching his fight.

Oro groaned up at the sky.

Maybe, like just about everything else in his life, the problem wasn’t Mato. Maybe the problem was him. After all, Mato had invited him to join him after his fight was over, and Oro had just gone trudging off down the canyon without a second thought. He was always so… antisocial. Maybe if he actually gave Mato a chance…

He’d been living alone for a long time.

Oro sighed. He ran a hand across his mask, then turned and looked up the direction he’d come. He couldn’t see Mato among the cliff faces above, but he knew he was there. Somewhere.

“I hate this, you know,” Oro protested out loud to a nearby boofly, “You know how much easier my life would be if this weren’t my problem?”

Of course the boofly didn’t answer. It just bobbed its head and flittered its tiny wings frantically, its big black eyes looking back at him vacantly. Frustrated, Oro smacked it away with the flat of its nail, sending it spinning further into the canyon. Then, huffing another grumble of a sigh, he turned and began walking back up towards the Colosseum. 

“Mato, Mato, why is it always, always Mato,” Oro griped under his breath as he walked, “At least Sheo understood the basic concept of personal space. He knew how to leave me alone and not do stupid things like… like…! And he’s always so emotional it’s like trying to reason with a scared grub for Wyrmssakes--!”

He ushered to the air around him, as though the ambient noises of wind and hoppers and wings could grant him the validation he was looking for. Of course, none did. But the flurry of movement did attract the attention of a nearby primal aspid as it buzzed threateningly close to the canyon wall. And Oro, so lost in his grumbling, so lost in his slow progression up the paths of the cliffside, didn’t notice it’s presence until it was spitting bright orange in his direction. The flash of color was enough of a warning in his peripheral vision for him to lurch to the side in an attempt to dodge it - only for the scatter of its spray to catch him in the mask. Cursing, Oro staggered to the side, wiping furiously at the acid-like spit with his cloak. His shoulder caught against a nearby wall, and then abruptly Oro felt that wall give way behind him. 

There was an instant where he realized he was going to fall. An instant where he realized there was nothing he could do about it. An instant where he resolved if he didn’t go tumbling down the side of the canyon wall and crush himself against the ground, he was going to come storming back up here and cut the wings off of every aspid he laid his eyes on. And then, Oro promptly tumbled off the ledge he’d been standing on into whatever cavity had opened up in the wall behind him.

He’d expected to fall longer than he did. 

There were two, maybe three seconds where he was free-falling and it was incredibly dark, and his eyes still stung from the aspid spit. And then with a heavy oof! he landed hard on his shoulders on uneven ground, knocking the air out of his chest and leaving him wheezing rather ingloriously on the floor. When he’d managed to start breathing normally again, he felt around for his nail and once he found it, staggered to his feet. Above him, he could hear the echoing buzz of the aspid’s wings as it searched the hole he’d fallen through for any sign of him. As soon as it felt the cooler, wet air of the cavern he’d tumbled down, it turned back the way it’d come, hissing furiously.

“I hope you get eaten alive by something!” Oro shouted after it as it went, “Stupid, angry thing!”

If it heard him, it didn’t turn back to investigate.

With another frustrated sigh, Oro squinted into the gloom to survey his surroundings, finding mostly what he already knew - that it was dark in here. Some pale light filtered in from the hole he’d fallen through, casting the space immediately around him in washed out greys that very quickly faded into oppressive murk. The floor here was made of carapace and chiton, old and stoney. There was a smell of damp age about the place, like the air had been still and undisturbed for a long time, and there was a weight to it, like eyes in the dark. It felt very much like he’d stepped into someone’s grave, or just inside the toothy maw of some ancient carapace. If he weren’t so irritated, Oro might have even had the common sense to be scared here. 

Instead his shell itched and his stomach turned itself in angry knots, and he thought of course of course he would fall through some damp, dark, probably beast-infested pit while walking up to find his brother. Of course this would happen to him right now. It was always Mato wasn’t it? Always the source of his chagrin, even when he wasn’t trying to be. This might as well happen.

After standing still for a few minutes listening to the sound of moisture dripping off the ceiling and the hollow echo of droplets onto the floor, Oro’s eyes managed to adjust enough to pick out another source of light in the darkness. A dim light, so distant that for a moment he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no it was there - a curve in the tunnel ahead giving off the subtle hue of an outline. It was hard to tell just how far away it was. His depth perception wasn’t fantastic when he was near blind from darkness and aspid spit. It was hard to stop himself from blinking every few seconds to try and clear the remaining fumes of the acid away. Not that it would help at all.

Oro cast his gaze up the direction he’d fallen. It was a long, sheer stone face to climb. He was sure he could if he gave it enough effort. But it would be hard work, and all in pitch darkness until he was near the very top. And while he could, he definitely didn’t feel like standing at the base and calling for help for however long it might take for a bug to come this direction. He had a match to get to tomorrow, after all. And pride in his belly. So, stepping carefully on the uneven footing, Oro made his way towards the light he’d seen further in the tunnel. 

The sound of his own footsteps echoing in the silence itched at his nerves. He was loud and unwieldy, it seemed, and it made him paranoid that something might hear him coming, or try to ambush him. Swinging a nail in the dark was a dangerous idea. You never knew when you’d hit a wall, or perhaps even yourself, if your swing went too shallow.

When he reached the curve in the tunnel ahead he stopped, taking a moment to survey the slowly brightening light ahead of him. There was some bioluminescence here, sickly looking roots that sprouted in tangled patches from the ceiling, and reached like limp claws towards the horns of his mask. It was barely enough light to see by, and a pale shade-like purple. As Oro took a step down the lit tunnel, there was a soft hiss as the roots seemed to respond to his presence above. For a moment Oro crouched low, nail over his head, expecting the roots to reach for him. Instead he watched as they slowly shriveled and curled towards the ceiling, flattening themselves away from his touch. The light from them dimmed even further but remained.

Tch. Weird. 

Oro straightened again and, eyeing the ceiling suspiciously, continued walking, trying to ignore the creeping noises of moving roots above his head as he went. When he passed by them, the roots slowly unfurled themselves and dropped back down again, a curtain of slowly brightening claws guarding his exit. It was… unsettling... claustrophobic. He didn’t like the idea of walking into something that could sense his presence. 

Further down the tunnel he went, one hand on the wall as if afraid it might suddenly fall in on him, his other hand clutching tight-fisted around the hilt of his nail. It was incredibly still here, the air dead. Unlike the open hole he’d fallen into where noises attempted to echo, the sound in the tunnel ate itself up in the roots over his head, making his every movement seem muffled and abrupt. He checked his progress every handful of steps, making sure his way back hadn’t magically disappeared - and it hadn’t, though it was obscured by those twisting roots. Where in the Wyrm-cursed World was he even heading? Should he turn back? His sense of direction was tangled in the darkness somewhere, caught in the shifting roots over his head. He had no idea where this tunnel was or where it was winding.

There was a murmur… a soft sound on the edge of his hearing. Wait… what was that…?

Oro stopped walking abruptly and breath held, he listened. 

There was… a noise… coming from up the tunnel. Stifled and faint. It didn’t carry well here but he could still hear it; persistent and quiet, wafting toward him like mist. First it came in bits and pieces, but as he continued forward he made it out a bit more. Humming, haunted almost. A song...?

 Was there another bug down here? Maybe there was another opening somewhere then, some outward-leading tunnel he could scramble out of instead of trying to make the climb up the way he’d fallen. That would be grand. Sure, he’d be a bit lost when he got wherever he was going, but that was a problem for later.

“Teeth… and claws….”

“A mind of teeth and claws…”

Oro felt a creeping prickle of nervousness crawl its way up his shell. He didn’t like the sound of that. But he kept walking - he’d gone so far now it didn’t seem worthwhile to give up now. Besides, he was a strong bug with a great nail and enough light that, though it would be tedious, he could at least see a fight if it happened. And fight he would, if it came to it.

“Dreaming Wyrms, a bed of nails…”

“A hunger still beneath us wails…”

Just as he resolved this in his mind, the path before him yawned open into another opening. A cavern, smaller than the first he’d fallen into and tangled across the ceiling with more of those roots. Their thickness made their glow brighter, and some of them even managed to worm their way down from the ceiling and into the ground below, burrowing further into depth incomprehensible. It was probably a trick of his eyes but they seemed almost to pulse, faintly, that sick violet hue.

“A mind of teeth and claws…”

Oro noticed with a flash of horror like a lightning strike that the floor was covered in broken masks. Slashed cleanly in half. One eye broken. The ground beneath a slurry of crushed chitin and whatever moisture it was that dripped from the ceiling. It seemed nearly to be moving, breathing, churning beneath the fragile surface. A phantom of crawling legs shivered beneath Oro’s shell and he stumbled back a step away from the chamber, unable to stifle the choked noise that rose in his throat at the sight of it. In Hollownest there were many floors made of petrified chitin and old discarded masks. Resting grounds. Old battlefields. Place where once the life of the world was thick. This was fresh, moving, alive, grotesque. Wrong.

Crick. Crack. 

“Oh, hello Nailmaster.”

Oro snapped his gaze up from the floor to the center of the room. Standing in a circling of broken masks was the Announcer, seemingly unperturbed by the ground on which it perched, despite the fact that Oro himself could practically hear it’s writhing. The bug’s eyes glinted pale in the dim light, and silhouetted against a background of those burrowing roots, they looked both pitifully small and sinister, like some small weaver who just lured a bug into its tangled web of a lair.

“You may enter,” it said, a smile in its voice, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Yeah,” Oro muttered, gaze sinking back to the floor, “And beasts don’t bite.”

The Announcer laughed, a thin, frail sound, like it was unused to the sensation. It turned its back to him, and Oro saw now entwined in the roots it stood near was… something. A shape he couldn’t quite make out in the dim light and the distance. Though the glowing roots were thicker here, their light was still low.

He should leave. Being here was… a bad idea. But Oro doesn’t run. Not from enemies. Not from his brother. Not from this.

Tentatively, shell still crawling with shivers and nerves, Oro took a step forward. He expected his foot to sink, for the mask to give under his weight and crack and sink into the slurry of mud and chitin below, but it didn’t. In fact, he couldn’t even feel the ground moving. Emboldened by this just barely, he took another step forward. And another. And another. Until he was standing just behind the Announcer, towering over the diminutive bug and staring down at what it stood before. 

It was… an egg? A large one, nearly as tall as the Announcer, and as high as Oro’s chest. It was hard to tell it’s color when the only light to see by was tinged in the bruised blue-purple of the roots above them. But it was an egg, large and spiked and cracked in half, whatever creature born inside it long gone. Inside the remains of the shell, there was a curling of sickly roots that spiraled about themselves before burrowing into the ground, thick and twisted. 

“Interesting, isn’t it?” the Announcer hummed, “Even here at the edge of the kingdom, Hollow Nest hosts its mysteries.”

“What in the Black Abyss is this place?” Oro asked abruptly, hoping the shortness of his tone sounded more angry than scared.

The Announcer shrugged, “A place of beginnings. A place of hunger.”

It tilted its head in his direction, “A place of nothing, perhaps, if that’s what you want it to be.”

“Well that’s gross and cryptic.”

“You’re doing well in the Colosseum, Nailmaster Oro,” the Announcer said, disregarding his grumbling and turning its gaze back to the massive egg, “The place seems to suit you. You have a powerful spirit, a strong sense of ambition.”

Oro squinted down at the bug and backed up a pace, “There’s a lot of strong bugs entered in the tournament.”

It hummed noncommittally in return, the sound not unlike the voice Oro had heard humming its way towards him down the tunnel, “I suppose. But strength alone doesn’t satiate the Colosseum, does it?”

It looked up at him again, those pale eyes glinting, “I always thought the Colosseum of Fools was an interesting thing. It almost seems alive sometimes. Watched after and hungry. It so loves a crowd, and it loves its Champions and legacies. God Tamer was its favorite for a long time, and it’s quite a shame the one who struck her down refused to stay. I’m sure it would have made an interesting Champion all its own.”

“It’s a Colosseum,” Oro snapped, irritated by how unnerved the conversation was making him feel, “It’s a bunch of bugs in the shell of an even bigger bug hosting a tournament for a prize. It’s not alive.”

“Of course not,” the Announcer chuckled patronizingly, its voice sickly sweet with a grin that didn’t find its way to its pale gaze, “After all, if it had its own voice, surely I wouldn’t be here.”

It turned away from him and finally moved from its spot before the rooted egg, “I do wish you luck, Nailmaster Oro. I did mean what I said about the Colosseum suiting you, sir.”

It stopped at the edge of the room where Oro could barely make out the gaping darkness of a tunnel - probably the entrance the strange bug had used to enter the place. It flashed him one last smile, this time showing those unnerving teeth, “And doesn’t Nailmaster Champion have such a glorious ring?”

Then with another of those curling, whispering laughs, the bug disappeared down the tunnel ahead of it, leaving Oro alone in the dark. With no one to watch him, Oro allowed himself a shudder. 

"This whole place is just a pack of shrieking belflies isn’t it?” he snarled under his breath. A pack of shrieking belflies indeed. All pretty noises and deadly dramatics. Oro shivered one more time and then, grimacing, dropped his gaze to his feet to figure out where best to step next - only to find the ground normal. 

What?

Oro glanced around the room, casting about the floor for any sign of the writhing floor, the broken masks. But… it wasn’t. It was just fossilized chitin, like the floor he’d fallen into when he’d first dropped here. It was all old stone and solid ground and--! And it was all just gone?

Hesitantly, Oro knelt and placed his hand against the floor, and waited. He didn’t know what he waited on exactly. For the floor to shift? To feel the moisture of churning mud where his eyes were clearly seeing none? But… it was just stone. 

“Wyrmssakes,” Oro grumbled one more time, getting back to his feet. He cast a wary glance over to the rooted egg as if it could somehow explain his surroundings. Then, gathering up his courage, he followed down the tunnel he’d seen the Announcer disappear down. He was walking for a handful of moments before a familiar roaring caught his ears. Cheering. And then light, bright and pouring across the tunnel around him. And Oro was suddenly in the pit beneath the Colosseum, blinking dazedly at the resting forms of combatants. Behind him was a solid wall, as though the ground had opened up to spit him out and closed itself behind him.

Shell itching with nervousness, Oro climbed back out of the Colosseum and made his way home. It wasn’t until he was sharpening his nail late in the evening that he realized he’d forgotten his brother.

[thehoneyknight]

Memoria, sketch pages 1-16

(Radiant Arc 10, 3.35)

Note: Excerpts of previous comics appear in this part. Scenes redrawn for ‘Memoria’ are labelled with their chapter and part number. No part of the canon has been changed and the only alterations are visual improvements (for example, a lot of Ch1 looked very simplistic in comparison to Ch3). Enjoy!

-

Page 1

Honey- In The Abyss. The light shone down. Calling.

-

Page 2

Honey- The light led out. It led to our future.

Pale King- ‘You are the Vessel. You are the Hollow Knight.’

Honey- The light left us behind.

-

Page 3

Honey- In the dark. Without future. But not alone.

Alone.

-

Page 4

((Ch3.3))

Honey- And alone. The Vessel returned. Blessed by the light above.

((Ch3.19))

Honey- The Vessel was false. It had learned of mercy.

-

Page 5

Honey- Of love.

Argent- Bound.

Honey- Of regret.

It learned / to make mistakes. The future was broken.

-

Page 6

Honey- We had to find our own.

(Honey- Future.)

((Ch2.26))

Argent- The Palace should be here! Now there are only lumaflies. Meaningless lights… A door leading to nowhere… and a guard made from void.

-

Page 7

Argent- What happened here? How…? Can we make it up to you?

We weren’t good enough…

(Honey- to protect…)

Argent- …

Luma- (Tip Tap)

Argent- You think?

Luma- (Nod)

Argent- Let’s look, friend.

-

Page 8

(Honey- Our names / We became…)

Argent- The Vessel. The Hollow Knight.

-

Page 9

Argent- This statue… How many remember the one it commemorates? Did they have a name? In opening The Abyss they told us they knew they were imperfect. Do they believe they made the right choice? Did they have a choice?

Luma- …

((Ch3.13))

Argent- Sibling,

We’re here to say goodbye. The two of us are leaving the kingdom. Leaving Hallownest, and you. We can’t tell you that we’re sorry, of how we wish we could help. We have to do this. Up there, dreamless in chains, we hope you understand.

-

Page 10

Argent- Goodbye sibling. Goodbye Hallownest.

Luma- (A familiar face / I don’t recognise)

((Ch2.2))

Argent- Focus. Focus. Focus. Why isn’t this working?!?! Raaa!! And now I have no soul left… …

-

Page 11

Argent- Thanks. … This sucks. Focusing… That’s all there is to it… Focus. Out of everything this is the one thing I cannot do- ha! How is it so easy for you?

Is… Is it the void? You are more hollow than me… Is it easier to focus with a mind made from nothingness?

When I focus all I see is light.

-

Page 12

Argent- But I’ll get there, friend! I just need to keep trying. Some time soon I’ll be able to focus, and then I know I’ll be okay.  Thanks for sticking with me, Luma. When I’m no longer bound by lifeblood, maybe I’ll stop holding you back. Until then, well, we have to keep moving forward.

(Honey- Will we be remembered?)

Argent- I don’t want to be forgotten. Like them.

-

Page 13

Luma- Tip Tap

Argent- … Why should it be up to us to remember them? If only you remember me, what would be the point? We have our names- we look for a future- what else is there? What do the forgotten do? Stay in the Abyss?

How did they free us from that place? They have been in that Egg for lifetimes. Their statue in the City is older still… Far older than our freedom…

That light. Those blades. Their void. It was all real, but how can it be so… We are proof of their impossibilities. Was that Vessel no more than a memory? Perhaps that is something worth remembering.

-

Page 14

Argent- Remembering the impossible. That’s us too.

False Knight/Hegemol- !

(Honey- What does it mean to be us?)

((Ch2.7))

Luma- (Tip Tap)

-

Page 15

Argent- Yeah. It’s getting worse. We need to find shelter. We can’t risk getting blown off these cliffs. We’ve come too far to be crushed by nature…

Luma- …

Argent- What about down here…? A cave? Perhaps we can take shelter in here?

Luma- !

-

Page 16

Argent- Ah!

((Ch2.34))

Mato- Taking shelter from the winds, I presume?

Argent/Luma- !!!

Mato- … Oh! You are very welcome to stay!

Argent- … Why?

Mato- … It has been a long time since I last had a visitor, (cont.)

[ganymedesclock]

how do you figure that the knight has a personality. from what i've seen, it's purpose is to stop the plague, and every action it takes is to further that goal. there aren't any sidequests that bring it to other, irrelevant things.

Anon pardon me for being rude but this just sounds a lot like you really weren’t paying any attention at all.

The first thing Ghost did was leave Hallownest entirely

They came back specifically because Hollow was dying. Numerous people speculate or imply about this and it is shown to us in the opening cinematic- Hollow screams, and then Ghost specifically returns to Hallownest. Given Ghost shows neither loyalty nor reverence to any figure of the Pale King, in any route, it is hard for me to believe this is their instruction.

Literally numerous characters explicitly discuss that Ghost is making independent decisions. Open the wiki and find a character page and read their dialogue. I challenge you to find basically any character in the entire game who has more than a single sentence of dialogue, that does not talk about Ghost making choices and having opinions. 

The soundtrack that plays during Hollow’s fight sharply changes tonally in response to Hollow stabbing themselves. No one else is observing Hollow. “We” as player do not have a presence that is acknowledged in the meta of the game. Ever. Ergo: These moments of sadness are emotions we are told that Ghost has.

The person who tells us that Ghost is empty was wrong about it explicitly and big time. Literally the entire reason Hollow didn’t work is because the Pale King was wrong about the vessels and his entire civilization ate shit because of it. In case you missed the charnel pit filled with dead children, or the fact that you basically find his dead body curled up in an empty throne room where you then have to smack it out of its chair and onto the floor in order to clear the area, PK is not a trustworthy source of information. He is factually observably incorrect about several things (see: the lore tablet in the Howling Cliffs that states there “is no world beyond” and implies sapience only exists within Hallownest’s bounds when half the cast casually talks about and is canonically shown via things like Quirrel’s prequel comic to have come to Hallownest from outside, and been sapient the whole time. PK HIMSELF came to Hallownest from the outside and was sapient. 

Also the specific thing you cite that would be counter-evidence to Ghost lacking a personality happens. like. all the time. Things that aren’t relevant to Ghost’s Assigned Objective:

Literally any ending except “Hollow Knight” which you can complete by ignoring everyone and running in a straight line to the goal. Even that ending requires Ghost to conduct independent synthesis of ideas to figure out how to complete this, which an entity that has a personality and thoughts does things. 

Any objective that requires the Kingsoul calls for you to wander what White Lady notes is a long way off the path and obtain objects you were never “supposed” to have when your path ahead to replace Hollow is clear.

Every aspect of the Delicate Flower quest

The Colosseum of Fools

The entirety of the Grimm Troupe DLC

The entirety of Hidden Dreams DLC

The entirety of Godmaster DLC

Sitting with Quirrel at the conclusion of his storyline

Sitting and listening to Marissa

Meditating with Mato, or seeking out the Nailmasters in the first place

Beating up Millibelle for robbing you

Accepting the Hunter’s Journal and completing it

Fighting Hornet a second time and acquiring the King’s Brand (which is used to defy an explicit order of the Pale King, that the Abyss is to be left sealed)

The grub sidequest

Pursuing any of the character storylines, such as Cloth, Bretta, Tiso, or Elderbug’s to its logical conclusion

This list is incomplete and could continue

It certainly looks like actually most of the game consists of actions that make no sense from the perspective of an empty creature who is completely apathetic, lacks a personality, and only obeys orders given to it by PK, and, after all, we are roleplaying the experience of being Ghost, considering never at any point does the game ever acknowledge the player as an entity or break the fourth wall. The closest it comes is the Shrine of Believers which is extremely esoteric to access.

It would also certainly seem I’m really mad about it, which I am: Anon, please consider that I am an autistic adult. Please consider that many people with autism, especially in childhood, can be:

Nonverbal

Prone to repetitive behavior or acting in a way that others describe as “robotic”

Lack what is considered “typical emoting” / could seem to be “blank-faced”

Basically, everything the vessels are. And autistic people are, you know, real actual human beings with thoughts and feelings. You know what people argue, all the time? That we aren’t. Especially young nonverbal kids.

Do you understand maybe why I am saltier than small oceans about this subject?

If so, I really hope you understand that while I cannot physically reach through the screen and stop you from believing this, broaching this attitude does cause me, as an autistic person, to trust you significantly less, especially since we are talking about a game that calls a huge amount of attention to the fact that all of the vessels suffered and were hurt by what was done to them. Broken Vessel reaches out to you when they fall. Hollow actively stabs themselves during their fight to prevent Radiance from using themselves to hurt you and comes back as a Shade to attack her in Dream No More.

To insist there’s not evidence of Ghost having a personality is to both insist, in arrogance, that all of the humanity of playing Hollow Knight is only brought by the player- when we are not a force that exists in this world- and to deny the fact that there is anything wrong with the Abyss. Which is clearly not the conclusion the game intended to present you with. There is a reason we feel something about the Abyss, and not about the workshop in the White Palace where bits of Kingsmould armor are stacked up. And even the Kingsmoulds, it’s made clear, have at least the capacity to grow and form opinions given the implications of The Collector.

[shootingxstardust]

What made you decide to write this muse? //idk if we’re supposed to specify or not but tbh I’m curious about all of them 👀

questions for the mun, regarding the muse.

Well alrighty then. Though I won’t talk about muses on my other blogs like Neo, my dead Dolphi blog, or my semi active Goji blog. Hmm and I’ll only talk about the most relevant ones, since both Strength and Chariot were created as muses just out of spite.

Black Rock Shooter:  I decided to write her after interacting with @greenxreaper  on my Neo blog. I felt inspired,and so I  made an alt account that I had just lying around into a BRS blog. Like Neo’s blog, it started as single muse, but grew over time. At the start I played Rock, more like I played thisone RWBY oc I had named Noire, but over time I wrote her as a different character from that entirely. The blog was actually really inactive for the first few months, until I finally got motivation and started writing her more. Overtime the blog just grew. Plus I got better at writing due to interacting with @peopleoftheshadows and another BRS blog.. that I don’t interact with anymore.I have a higher muse for her than ever though. Because I can write  Black Rock Shooter however I want and create my weird story arcs and no one can stop me!

Noctis Star Lock and Noctis Morte: These two OCS from the Dream Walker verse were inspired by the game series, Klonoa. Specifically I created them after reading the official but sadly unfinished comic, Klonoa: Dream Traveler of Noctis Sol.  An Idea popped into my head, what if Rock was given the power to travel through dreams?  I also created two characters that originally were just Black Rock Shooter look alikes. Dream Shooter and Nightmare Shooter. (There was also a third character, the queen of dreams, but that’s kinda irrelevant.)  Dream Shooter was benevolent and Nightmare Shooter was evil and wanted to flood the world with nightmares, both the dream world, and the real world. Eventually Dream Shooter/ queen of dreams, became Noctis Star Lock, and the nightmare one became Noctis Morte. Over time, the two were less black and white however. Noctis Star Lock is very apathetic and selfish, and Morte only wants to get revenge on Star Lock for betraying her.  I actually have a four part story about them on my lore blog @blue-fire-eyes-stories ^^  In a way, Noctis Star Lock became the antagonist of that verse, and Noctis Morte, is misunderstood.

Dead Master:  Okay, I really wrote her, just because I wanted to ship her with someone else’s BRS at the start, but also really really had fun writing her in threads with  peopleoftheshadows and others. I just like her character. She used to be the second most popular muse on this blog, and I would love to start writing her some more.

Mato Kuroi: Mato was one I just randomly dumped on the blog one day and people enjoyed her. I had written her in the past on discord threads and really enjoyed writing her. It was also out of spite... again. lol. Because I felt I portrayed her much better than someone else I rped with. It was a discord only rp anyway, but they said theirs was closer to canon, but they portrayed Mato as just super bubbly all the time, and honestly I don’t think that’s the case. Mato is bubbly, sure, but she also has a sadness that she often ignores. She tries to be happy for others and be there for her friends to make them happy, but hides her own pain. Plus after the events of the BRS anime, I feel like she would at least be slightly more jaded, though not too much.

Red Mato: Unhingedsea sent an ask and it became a thing. Originally I had thought about doing multiple endings, red, blue,and true endings, but I might just keep the one ending, because I like it. At first she was super happy and kinda just clueless, then manipulative and smart, now I have her from manipulative and happy, to just unstable.

Red Rock: Just a ball of rage. Worse than Rose. Obviously, since Mato is red,she became red too :P

Yomi Takanashi: Just like Mato, she’s another character I just dumped onto the blog. She was popular, the first few days I rped as her, I just need to do more with her. She’s also very easy to rp as because I relate to her so much..

Black Rose Shooter: So a while back, I had an idea, months before bringing Rose to my blog, called Corrupted Insane Black Rock Shooter... This was going to be an AU where Rock went insane again and purposely hurt others  and even enjoyed emotionally hurting Mato. The name Rose came from another discord rp. It wasn’t my Insane Black Rock Shooter, but it was my Dead Master that came up with the name and I liked it, so I kept it when I brought her to my blog.  Rose was brought into the blog under the premise, of what if Rock and Insane Black Rock Shooter were actually separate? What if Rose wanted to hurt Rock, because Rock had hurt Rose severely without knowing it?  This became the basis for Rose’s back Story, though she only goes by the name of Rose after the post redemption arc. She is by no means a good person. She’s probably the character I have the most lore for, even though it isn’t her blog.  I even have a version of her character named Tsukuyomi or Tsuki, which is just Rose when Mato was three or 4, under the premise that she herself was completely innocent and sentient. Instead of doing my original idea, which was dark.. and had a version of IBRS I didn’t actually like, I made Rose my own and even though she’s still a terrible person, I actually feel for her sometimes, especially when she tries to be good. 

[sisullasuohon]

Alkuperäinen

Käsilaatat master post

Under the cut is some translation notes and some talk about the common access/allman’s right from Finland’s pov.

That font is called Tiresias. It’s a free font and the official subtitle font for YLE (Finland's national public-broadcasting company) since 2012. It’s been designed with the visually impaired in mind to be legible even at small sizes. Finnish subtitles at least in TV are always white with a small black border.

Mato (Malk / worm) Simpsons has been aired in Finland since 1991 (and always with subtitles, it’s not for kids), and this is how ’Malk’ is translated in the episode it first shows up. I guess drinking worms would be normal for a goat-monster who eats snails..?

In Finland we have this thing called ’jokamiehenoikeus’, which allows everyone to freely roam and scavenge certain nature’s products in most public and private land. The rights and responsibilities are quite nicely listed in this Wikipedia article so if you’re not at all familiar with this concept please have a glance at it before continuing. It’s a good read to get the basic idea, I’d rather concentrate on how it works in practise.

It’s called a ’right’, but it’s not really a right in a proper sense here since no written law mentions it, it is however defined by the law (what’s forbidden stays forbidden) combined with common sense. It is not just all freedom to do what you want, you always have the responsibility to abide by the restricting rules too. Anyone legally inside Finland’s borders, even tourists that are just visiting, are entitled to this right. No fees are collected from anyone, and, if an area accessible before is for some reason inaccessible or drastically changed later, you’re not entitled to any compensation. Also, the person responsible for any roaming or eating you do, is you. F.ex. if you get stuck and hurt your ankle in a swamp area, or if you pick mushrooms right next to a highway / a dumping area of dung and get sick eating them, it’s your own fault. (you will not be denied health care or anything, but there’ll not be any neon signs there telling you to use common sense)

The border areas between from what’s allowed to what’s unacceptable and from that to what’s illegal are not always clear and usually depend on the circumstances and people involved. If you’re not sure if the thing you want to do is acceptable, you can always ask permission from the land owner. In conflict, the amount and severity of the harm done is the indicator on whether what you did was ok or not. This is not just physical and property harm, Finland has a law on ’kotirauha’(sanctity of the home), that is the right to be undisturbed and not watched or filmed while you’re at home or areas that are considered part of home or homelike (f.ex. your garden, summer cottage, buildings in your land, the inside your tent even if it’s set up on someone else’s land). The least ’harming’ activity in the allman’s right is just walking from point A to point B, and it’s very rarely justified to limit this right, but there are exceptions.

Areas where this right does not apply are any areas within ’kotirauha’, fields that are currently cultivated (unless otherwise stated), pasture areas if there are animals, nature reserves(unless otherwise stated[*]), some military areas especially at the country borders, highways, construction sites or woodcutting areas (former has forbidden areas clearly marked with signs, with latter don’t get closer than 70 meters to the action), and other specific areas where access is restricted for a really good reason, like when it’s not safe to hang around (f.ex. if a shooting range has been set up in the forest permanently or temporarily), or when even normal walking can cause harm (freshly planted young saplings need to be left as-is until they root properly). Even with these restrictions, approximately 96% of Finland’s land-areas are usable with this right.

[*] Many municipalities have traditionally cultivated some of their ’landscaping fields’(it’s a culture heritage thing) for people to freely pick things for their own use (not to sell). These are usually flowers, such as sunflowers, or peas, and there’s always sign saying what’s allowed. The fields set aside for this each year can be found online and they usually show up in local news too.

’Asiaton oleskelu kielletty’(Hanging around here with no proper business is forbidden) is a very common sign here but it doesn’t really have any base in the law (defining ’business’ is very hard since it’s not defined in any law so it relies on people involved and how they define it). That and any other ’not based on the law’ signs do not need to be followed, but an aggressive handmade sign is a good indicator of a hostile person living in the area, if you want to avoid any conflicts. At the same time, if a sign is backed by a law even a crudely handmade one should be followed by everyone.

The season for collecting food outside starts from spring when the last snow melts and lasts until whenever the first snow comes, if the snow is light or late you can still find some mushrooms even in December, at that point wild herbs and berries aren’t in too good a shape even if you find them. In spring there’s mostly just plants and plant parts available, but the berries start ripening at the end of the summer (approx. end of August), and mushrooms shortly after depending on how much it has rained that year. In northern Finland the growth season is shorter. If you go look for edible things, 100 meters is a good safety zone to avoid any gasoline or other nasty residue from roads or areas where pesticides or manure might have been used. Rule of thumb is to only pick edibles you’re familiar with or bring a friend who knows what they’re doing, Finland has several poisonous mushrooms and berries and some resemble the edible ones.

With non-edibles you can always collect (without having to ask for a permission) some cones, leaves, pine needles, dead twigs and branches, as long as they’re on the ground (any of those still attached to a tree, even a dead one, are not ok to pick without permission), horns, shells, feathers (eggs and even egg shells are never ok to pick), non-protected species of insects and spiders, for whatever art project or collection hobby you have. You can even keep animal corpses you find as long as they’re not endangered species or game species.

If you want to sell natural ( i.e. non-cultivated) berries, mushrooms, cones or plants/plant parts such as flowers you’ve picked as they are (not products made from them), it’s tax free as long as it’s the picker who sells them, and it’s clearly an occasional income and not a profession.

Outside of the picking seasons you can still enjoy the wild herbs, berries and mushrooms, since all extra you’re not eating within a short time from picking can be preserved pickled etc. in jars, or just in a freezer. Some Finns who are really into this usually have their freezer full with surplus to give for anyone who would like to have some, sometimes even trying to give some of them to their guests, so they would have room to go get more from the forest. As an example, on a personal note, the area I like to pick my berries from happened to have a bad year last fall, so a relative who had an extremely good year pitched in from their extras and now I have enough bilberries to last this winter. :)

Just to make it clear, this topic is not brought up now because Asgore picked up some kids he found and kept them (that’s illegal in Finland too), it’s because of those mushrooms in his fridge that are inside some random container instead of a proper plastic store-wrapping, as if they were not bought. I’ve had this topic in mind for a long time now, but this is the first comic I could see as actually related to it, yay!

[rndyounghowze]

The Addams Family Musical by Pirate Theatre at Cedar Creek High in Eggharbor City, NJ

By Ricky Young-Howze It was grim, dark, and dank in the Cedar Creek High School performing arts center last night. But don't worry it was just the drama club’s brilliant performance of The Addams Family a musical comedy with book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice and music and lyrics by Andrew Lippa. This spooktacular production directed by John Stephan brings you a family of young actors that's creepy and kooky hilarious and spooky and altogether awesome. They made the timeless characters from the mind of Charles Addams rise again. . Gomez Addams’ (Corey Critelli) little daughter is all grown up and wanting to get married. Wednesday (Corinne Podolski) has asked that he keep his engagement to his normal fiancé, Lucas (Todor Penchev), a secret from Morticia (Vanessa Matos). Add Lucas’s plain Jane parents (Jack Hall and Caitlyn Fee) into the mix of the Addams household and you have a whimsical recipe for disaster. And let’s not forget her brother, Pugsley (Cody Tittermary) who is desperate to bring his sister back to him. He has a true uncertain terror at the prospect of never being tortured by Wednesday again. His comic diabolical scheme with Grandma (Natalie Reyes) to break-up his sister and her new boyfriend is devious and dark and you'd never expect anything less of him. Grandma is a fast talking straight shooting matron with a mouth full of sass and a wagon full of potions. You'd expect nothing less from her but side splitting snark. Add to that the constant comedy of Uncle Fester (Matt Sult) who serves as the go-between: between ancestors and family and audience and actors. His narration is full of one liners to keep you rolling in the aisles. His romantic love affair with the moon keeps your spirits lighter than air. And let's not forget Lurch (Jacob Alicea), the family butler. Slow but steady this tall, dark, and gruesome giant quickly finds a warm spot in your heart. But what would a musical about the Addams Family be without Gomez and Morticia? Talk about relationship goals! Their fiery passion was made to outlast everything? But will it outlast a tiny white lie Gomez tells to avoid hurting the two most important women in his life? John Stephan’s direction of this musical emphasized the family and how they play off of each other. The Addamses swim in drama like the monster swims in Loch Ness. Watch any scene between our family and you're laughing at the jokes coming at you a mile a minute. Look at the “Full Disclosure” scene and you can tell that he spent time on these characters with the kids and he loved the play that he was working on. I did feel, however, that there were a lot of “ancestors” in the chorus that didn't get their chance to shine in the action. Where I saw comedy in the main cast I saw ancestors standing around and I feel that I'd love to see him incorporate the chorus more in future productions. I felt the ensemble did get to shine in the dance numbers from the creative mind of Ashley Tabano as the choreographer. Her choreography filled the stage and got everyone up and moving. Like in “Around the Corner” where Morticia is joined by a chorus line of ancestors in a rollicking toe tapper. But she also played up the intimacy in numbers like “Tango Amor”. She crafted a dance for Morticia and Gomez that was passionate yet clean. Elaborate but easy to follow. This is another school where I see teenagers doing lifts that I have seen baffle adults and I'm really jealous! I would love to see more choreography from Tabano in the future. Mary Boner is scenic designer. She built the set with the help of Wayne Wriggins and Tom Kiesing. My favorite piece was the big gate in the opening number. I love that the set was simple and classic. There is a big temptation to go over the top in these kinds of things and I'm glad that her work got to stay on stage a lot and stand out. James Goodrich’s musical direction was spectacular! He brings a fifteen piece band to the show that brings their A game and rocks the joint. In numbers like “Pulled in a Different Direction”, “Love” and the Opening number you can really feel the band put their full weight behind the performers and blow us away. However there were other times where I felt myself straining to hear the singers over the music. That's obviously a microphone problem and not his fault but it is a shame some singers were overpowered. But don't worry mic problems are very common gremlins on opening night. I'm sure that they were fixed immediately so that they won't happen in future performances! All of the cast was just amazing and I was really wowed by their commitment to the characters. Critelli and Matos played a wonderful Gomez and Morticia. Again I'm jealous that their Tango game is so on point at their age! I really think that Corinne Podolski’s voice is the real reason two of these songs are stuck in my head. Cody Tittermary’s Pugsley was so wrong which means he was just right! And who can't love Matt Sult’s commitment to comedy with Fester! Shout out to Jack Hall, Caitlyn Fee, and Todor Penchev for making “normal” look creepy as the Beineke’s. Straight laced never looked so scary! Two supporting standouts from last night’s performance is Natalie Reyes and Jacob Alicea. Reyes’ Grandmother was just so funny and I know she really put her heart into it. And here’s to Jacob who came out from doing backstage work to walk on platform shoes to play such an awesome part! Give them some extra applause! And here's to Makayla Baggstrom, Taylor Blaisdell, Thomas Burger, Annalise Catherine, Jose De La Cruz, Sydnie Decamp, Madison Davila, Kayla Dyer, Jennin Fleming, Deana Flores, Elizabeth Glass, Gracie Harris, Brandon Henry, Rebekah Hillard, Alex Lacherre, Gabriella Martinez, Alexis Mathis, Kira Murdock, Madelyn Pamientieri, Tara Petrosh, Sophia Romano, Madison Torres, Julia Train, and Grace Wilson. You guys danced and sang your hearts out and there wouldn't have been a show without you wacky guys! So get out and get onstage for the next show! I definitely want to see all of you again! The Addams Family Is a non-stop roller coaster ride of enjoyment. You definitely have to go see it! The Addams Family opened on Thursday March 2 at 6:30 PM and plays through March 4 at the Cedar Creek High School Performing Arts Center. You can get tickets on book-tix.com.

[turnoftherogue]

Pig and Pepper Part 1

Masterlist

Sam and Dean stood in a garage with their shirt sleeves rolled up staring at the car before them. Some guy had smashed through the windscreen of the car while it was parked where it stood now. It was supposedly the car James Dean had died in and Dean had been tasked with checking to see if it was true. They stared at it uncertainly.

"You want me to do it?" Sam asked.

"No... no, no I've got it." Dean approached the car. "Okay baby I'm not gonna hurt you, so ...don't hurt me." He told it as he slid underneath it on a roller board.

"I wasn't planning to." Came a voice from the other side of the car. Dean jumped banging his head on the bottom of the car. "You Okay under there?" Laceys face appeared underneath the car.

"Yes, geez Lace." She smiled at him and stood back up. Dean took a rubbing of the number on the engine and rolled back out from under the car. Lacey was standing next to Sam now. She was wearing a blue and black striped jumper that hung off one of her shoulders with a short black skirt, black patterned tights and stiletto boots. Dean glanced at her appreciatively as he got to his feet. He handed the number to Sam.

"Find out who owned it. Not just the last owner, you gotta take it all the way back to 1955."

"That's a lot of research."

"Well I guess I just made your afternoon." Dean said as they exited the garage.

"What's going on?" Lacey asked.

"Killer car." Lacey raised an eyebrow. "How was the spa thing?"

"Bath house. It was OK once I got through to them that I wasn't taking all of my clothes off." Dean chuckled.

"If I'd have known it was that kind of place I might have come with you." Lacey gave him a shove knocking the wind out of him a little.

"I did get my nails done too." She proffered her hands, the nails covered in glitter and bows.

"Yikes." Dean said raising both his eyebrows.

"You want me to shove you again?" Lacey asked playfully.

"No ma'am. Dean replied. Lacey laughed and linked arms with him as they headed back to the Impala.

A while later they were sat in their motel room, Sam doing research on his laptop, Lacey had kicked her boots off and had her feet up on one of the beds watching a movie. Dean opened a bottle of beer and sat down next to her.

"What we watching?"

"A Good Woman." Lacey said, her eyes transfixed on the screen.

"Right." Sam said from across the room. " I've managed to trace all of the cars previous owners."

"Any of 'em die bloody?"

"Nope, in fact the cars first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia, drove it till he died in 1972."

"So you're saying?"

"That Porsche is not, nor has it ever been James Dean's car. It's a fake little bastard."

"Well then what was it that killed the guy?"

"Good question."

The following morning Sam was awoken by his phone going off. He blearily reached for it and flipped it open.

"Hello?" As he sat up he glanced across the room. Lacey was curled up next to Dean, the TV still playing whatever channel it had been left on the previous night. "There's been another killing?" Sam asked focusing back on the phone call. "OK we'll be right there." Sam climbed out of bed. "Dean, Lacey." he shook Laceys shoulder and she woke up with a start.

"What's going on?"

"There's been another murder." Sam told her as Dean stirred from the other side of the bed.

"I'll get ready." Lacey replied as she jumped out of bed and went to the bathroom.

"Huh?" Dean asked shaking the cobwebs away.

"Just get ready dude." Sam said shaking his head. He began pulling clothes out of his bag. When he was sure they couldn't be overheard he turned back to Dean.

"Do you know what you're doing?" He asked. Dean stared at him as if he was stark raving bonkers.

"Getting dressed." He said slowly as if he was talking to a child.

"No I mean about Lacey."

"Oh." Dean shrugged. "There's no need to get a bug up your butt. She just ends up falling asleep with me watching movies. It's a pretty regular thing. Think she just likes the company." Sam studied him for a moment.

"And that's it?" Dean raised his eyebrows and grinned at him.

"For now."

"Dean." Sam warned. "I don't think…" Dean waved him off.

"I'm not stupid Sam. She's not your average girl I get that." Sam was about to reply when the bathroom door opened and Lacey stepped out. She was wearing jeans and black boots with a grey and pink baseball shirt. Her wet hair was pulled into a plait to one side of her head and a black hat was shoved over the top. Dean avoided the rest of the conversation by darting into the bathroom behind her and shutting the door. Lacey looked at Sam.

"What's his rush?" Sam shrugged his shoulders and went back to getting ready.

Half an hour later they were stood outside an office building surrounded by cops. Dean approached one of the officers in charge.

"Heard you got another weird one."

"Uh well it's a … little strange on the surface, I admit but uh, you know once you look at the facts…"

"William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head. No gun, no gun powder, no bullet." Sam butted in.

"Nope nothing strange about that." Dean said giving the cop a look.

"Well there's gotta be a reasonable explanation. There always is."

"Well what's your reasonable explanation?" Dean asked. The Cop leant in and whispered.

"Professional killer."

"Come again?" Sam asked.

"Well CIA, NSA one o' them trained assassins, like in Michael Clayton." They stared at him.

"Right." Dean dragged the word out.

"You're welcome to look around but those guys don't leave finger prints."

"Mind if we talk with the witness?" Sam asked.

"Be my guest. She's not making any sense! And she's not making any sense in Spanish either."

"Right." Dean said again and they headed outside to find the witness.

"Consuela Alvarez?" Dean asked as they approached.

"Yes?" The woman asked looking up at them.

"FBI." Dean said and they showed her their badges. "Now uh, you said you saw something in the professors house right? Something in the window?"

"Estaba sacundo la basura Imire por la ventana y vi al hombre que mato al Senor Hill!" Dean looked to Sam.

"Uh Senora Alvarez. Calmese, por favor. Uh diganos lo que vio?"

"Nice." Dean grinned at him.

"Freshman Spanish." Sam shrugged.

"Era Alto. Muy Alto. Y Ilevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenia bigotes!"

"Okay uh, a tall man, very tall. With a long black coat and a… a beard?" He looked at the woman for clarification and she nodded.

"Beard." Sam nodded.

"Y un sombrero." The woman continued.

"Dude was wearing a sombrero?" Dean asked incredulously. Lacey giggled.

"Uh, a hat, not a…" Sam looked at her questioningly.

"no, no, no un sombrero alto."

"A tall hat?"

"Oh like a top hat?"

"Un sombrero alto. Muy alto" The woman said putting her hand above her head.

"What you mean like a stovepipe hat?" Dean asked imitating her gesture.

"Si."

"Oh yeah, like Abraham Lincoln."

"Si. El Presidente Lincoln." They looked at her confused. "Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!"

"Huh."

"So I go home now?" She asked.

"Uh Si Gracias." Sam nodded to her.

"Gracias." Dean added as she got up.

Later they returned to the motel to do some more research as nothing the witness had said had really helped. Sam sat at the table surfing the web for any info while Dean, using a computer borrowed from the police station, re-watched the video of Cal Hawkins death. Lacey sat next to him her arms crossed on the table, her chin resting against them. She winced at the sight of the blood spattered across the windscreen.

"Whoa." Dean paused the video and leant forward peering at the screen.

"What?" Sam asked. Dean scrolled through the freeze frames for a moment before settling on one.

"It's a freeze frame from Jim Grossmans video." Sam and Lacey leant forward too. Dean was suddenly aware of how close Laceys' body was to his. Dean cleared his throat. "Am I crazy or does that look like James Dean?" He asked pointing at a reflection in one of the cars wheels.

"That looks like James Dean." Sam clarified.

"So we got Abraham Lincoln and James Dean? Famous ghosts?" He asked sceptically.

"Maybe."

"Well that's just silly." Dean leant back in his chair.

"No actually there's a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before."

"Any Audrey Hepburn sightings?" Lacey asked sounding excited.

"Not that I can remember." Sam replied raising an eyebrow at her.

"Oh." Lacey said her smile falling, she slumped back in her chair.

"Yeah but now we got two of 'em?" Dean continued the conversation. "Two extremely pissed off ghosts?"

"Who are apparently ganking their fans."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Professor Hill was a civil war nut." Sam said indicating the page he had been reading. "He dug Lincoln."

"And Cal must have been a James Dean freak." Dean added putting the pieces together. "He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guys car. So you're saying we've got two super famous, super pissed off ghosts killing their… super fans?"

"That's what it looks like." Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"OK not so sad about Audrey Hepburn now." Lacey said perking up. Dean shook his head.

"Well that is muchos locos." Sam smiled.

"Muy." Both Lacey and Dean cocked their heads comically at the same time. Sam laughed. Not muchos."

"Yeah well the big question is what the hell are they doing here?"

"Yeah. Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House …"

"And James Dean at a race track, but what the hell are they doing in Canton?" Sam shrugged his shoulders and began typing away on his laptop. Dean left him to it and got up from the table. He pulled a soda out of the fridge and offered one to Lace. She smiled and took it from him, their hands brushing slightly. Dean felt a jolt go through him, like an electric shock. Lacey blushed and turned to sit back down. Not even sure what he was doing Dean reached out and put a hand on her arm to stop her. Ash she turned back to him a look of surprise on her face, Sam exclaimed;

"You gotta be kidding me?"

"What?" Dean asked quickly moving to look over Sams shoulder at the screen.

"You gotta be kidding me." Dean repeated as he read what was on the screen.

@18crazybutcutealsopsycho @aprofoundbondwithdean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @impala-dreamer@deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy@mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline@supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes@babypieandwhiskey @deantbh @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91  @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine@chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @revwinchester @castieltrash1@supernaturalyobsessed @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold@deanwinchesterxreader @melbelle45 @winchester-family-business @4401lnc