#it's so rare to find a game (much less multiple) that echo some of the most private thoughts you've had since you were a kid

[glassrunner]

video games + “what it means to be”

[that-giorgione]

Greetings, my friend,

If you do not know me, well, I would hope you did by the end of this letter! Pages describes me as “London’s singulone fox,” as your hint.

Anyways, not for myself, but for a friend of mine… what are some tips you would have for those who have newly descended?

I hope we will be able to interact further!

Kindest regards,

- Nyx Darkhelm

Dear Nix,

Thanks for reaching out and for your heartfel concern for a newcomer.

First of all i’d say that in a wondrous city such as London, the best advices would be:

“Don’t fear to fuck around to find out”.

It is very rare to accidentally stumble into situations where you cannot unstuck yourself from, and in case you do the game will be incredibly clear about what will happen is you so decide to proceed.

“Learn what is valuable at your level”

Sometimes you may get a shiny item that will just sit in your pocket for ages, and the temptation to sell it for a quick buck is strong, but some things may be useful later on and are hard to get a hold of, so knowing what is safe to sell and what isn’t is really helpful.

Usually the more echoes it’s worth, the harder and potentially more useful it is, usually at the beginning anything worth more that 12.5 echo is with holding onto for a while, but depends on your playstyle.

“Grinding is a game mechanic”

It it wasn’t abvious, there is a lot of grinding to do.

Luckily with the new updates it has become a lot less jarring and you can grind for the same resource in multiple ways, so it becomes less boring and repetitive, some of these are tied into little flavouful activities!

“Roadblocks are there for a reason”

There may be moments where you follow a thread and then suddely get punched in the face by an unusually pricey requirement, or a incredible hard challenge. You could tackle then on, sure, but sometimes the best approach is realize that you have to grow a little more before going forward.

There are multiple threads to follow and can be followed separately,if you get stuck in one take a break, breathe and try something new.

If the problem persists, some brute force may be required.

“The wiki in there for a reson”

Do not be afraid to use the wiki. It’s there to be used and see the ways to aquire resources or consult if you get stuck on a specific quest. How much you want to use it is up to you, it is full of guides and very mindful about spoilers.

That is not everything, but at the moment i think it’s more than enough for the time being, i wish you a happy stay here in London!

Feel free to send a calling card if needed, sincerely

Giorgione

[msfcatlover]

Can you give the bullet points for that Hollow Knight Ludonarrative dissonance essay so us who played the game can fill in the gaps?

Sure thing!

First and foremost, I know many people are familiar with the term “ludonarrative dissonance,” which is when the mechanics of a game run counter to the themes and sometimes the plot of the story being told. On the opposite end of the spectrum, and far more rarely talked about, is “ludonarrative harmony,” which is when the mechanics of a game support the story being told or even tell a supportive story of their own!

I am very firm in my belief that in a quarter of a century playing video games, Hollow Knight has the best ludonarrative harmony of any game I’ve played.

Here’s my primary example: the condemnation of the Pale King’s actions, and how it ties into the original possible endings of the game.

The Pale King’s failure is the great final tragedy of Hallownest. He saw the end coming, knew he could not defeat the Radiance again, and did not want his people to suffer. He determined he needed a being of pure Void to contain the Radiance, but believed that any emotion would lead to a flawed prison. So, he created the Vessels by the hundreds, letting them struggle to the top of the Abyss, and cast each one of them back down into the depths for the “flaw” of being children with actual emotions. We don’t know how he determined this, but when he finally found one that seemed properly emotionless, “truly hollow,” he took that child and sealed the gate behind them, locking the player character (henceforth referred to as “Ghost” in this first draft ramble-essay,) and who-knows-how-many-other Vessels to fend for themselves in the depths.

You already know this. And you already know that child was not given a name (though I will be referring to them by the fandom nickname “Hollow” from here on out,) was purposefully neglected, taught only training and their purpose for existing in the hopes it would keep emotions  and desires from taking root. But Hollow did have desires; specifically, Hollow just wanted their dad to be proud of them. When Hollow sacrificed their mind to hold the Radiance and was imprisoned in the Black Egg, after the Dreamers gave their own minds to keep it sealed, the prison was faulty. An unspecified amount of time later, the Radiance’s influence was able to leak out in the form of the Infection, and the kingdom of Hallownest was destroyed.

(The Pale King often gets pilloried by the fandom for “letting” that happen by showing any level of caring for the child. This is the wrong conclusion.)

The game begins with us playing Ghost, having at some point escaped from the Abyss and (seemingly) having lost their memories in the wilds outside the kingdom. It is as Ghost that we track down the Dreamers and slay them, opening the Egg to face Hollow and put an end to the plague, though how exactly that happens and what the outcome is depends on your choices throughout the game.

As a fellow Vessel, you can take Hollow’s place. When Hollow is slain, Ghost absorbs the Radiance and the Egg reseals itself.

Using the power of the Dreamnail, you can enter Hollow’s mind and fight the Radiance directly, driving her back into hiding for the foreseeable future.

If you have the Voidheart charm equipped and choose to fight the Radiance, you become a “higher being” yourself and are able to slay her for good. The kingdom is free of the plague, and Hollow even survives and has another chance at life. (This one is, by the way, known as the “True Ending.”)

And here we finally reach my argument, and I can stop regurgitating old information. Because these endings and what you need to achieve them is what finally solidifies just how wrong the Pale King was. Wronger than he ever knew.

He must have thought the Vessels less than people, or he would not have been willing to kill so many. But he would not have rejected so many of them if the Vessels weren’t inherently feeling, thinking creatures like any other bug in the kingdom — none of them were “truly hollow.” Children, left to die in the dark by the hundreds. The greatest sin he ever committed.

We know he did, on some level, care about Hollow, but still chose to neglect them in hopes of stunting their emotional growth. That he believed the sacrifice of one Vessel and three of his most respected advisors (give or take Herrah, who’s whole deal with him is kinda... weird,) to eternal imprisonments was better than letting the whole kingdom fall to the Radiance’s vengeance. That the ends justify the means. It’s his last thought, still echoing in his corpse when we find him on his throne: “...No cost too great...”

But the ends don’t justify the means, and I don’t just mean because the plan failed. I mean because it was inherently flawed in its initial premise, the very assumption he built it on: that “being hollow” was the solution to the problem.

A truly hollow Vessel would not care one whit about the mission or anything else. If Ghost were hollow, there would not be a game; they would wander aimlessly, not speaking or interacting with anyone, until they finally died.

If you play Ghost as being hollow, or as close to it as you can, you’ll be ignoring all NPCs. You’ll not be buying any upgrades or equipment. You’ll not be wandering far from the central path. Why would you? A hollow Vessel should care only for their mission, find the shortest route to enter the Black Egg, slay Hollow, and be done with it. Not only does this make life much harder for you, it nets you the worst ending. The Pale King’s trap just resets, now with the Dreamers dead so none can ever try to fix the problem again, and it will fail eventually, because Ghost isn’t hollow. The very fact there is a plot to follow, a goal to achieve, means that Ghost has goals they are willing to suffer hardships to reach. Frustration, determination, and pride in success have to be assumed, complimented by the fact those are all the emotions the player will feel on this particular run.

If you want to face the Radiance, you have to upgrade the Dreamnail, and you’re not told that will be the end result when you first receive it. You have to be ambitious and stubborn, at the very least, to pursue that goal blind, or you have to really want to know what the Sage will give you as a reward. You have to experiment, going back to bosses you’ve already beaten to fight their dream versions and put them to rest, track down the hidden dream roots and clamber all over the map to solve their puzzles. For the second ending, Ghost has to have goals outside of their main mission, has to think through the concept of deaths enough to make the connection between the ghosts and the bosses, and repeatedly return to speak to the Sage for the upgrades. They have to be curious enough to even use the Dreamnail in the first place, and like it enough to want to improve it.

And how do you get the best ending? The true ending? Slay the Radiance, defeat it for good, save the kingdom of Hallownest?

You explore. You wander off the main path, root out secrets and shortcuts and answers. You need to talk to multiple NPCs, and not just speed through their dialogue to get your reward but actually think about it and remember who’s connected to whom. You meet the White Lady in the Queen’s Garden and travel down into the Abyss, both areas you never need to go to and which no one will even tell you about before you’ve been there. You throw yourself against the Path of Pain again, and again, and again, and again, with no promise of reward, just to see what’s on the other side.

To truly defeat the Radiance, you have to play Ghost as being curious, distractible, attentive, and caring. They cannot be isolated and they cannot be ignorant. And if you care enough to end up with the Voidheart, you probably talked to everyone, helped them complete their quests, tried different charm combinations and ran around the map just to see how people reacted. You probably wanted to know the secrets of Hallownest, and refused to let insurmountable odds turn you away.

In the true ending, Ghost actually has a pretty strong personality, told purely through mechanics.

Story and gameplay.

The Pale King was wrong. We’re told that, asked to look upon his actions and despair that anyone could be driven to such lengths... made worse by the fact his theory was flawed in its very foundations. Being hollow was never the answer; a hollow Vessel was always going to fail. The cost was too great, and all the awful things he did to try and stop the Radiance... it was all for nothing.

Harmony.

It’s just... it’s heartbreaking, and absolutely beautiful.

And every time I see people say Ghost can defeat the Radiance because “they’re the one who’s really hollow,” I want to rip my hair out, like how the fuck can people just IGNORE the SMOOTHEST INTEGRATION OF STORYTELLING AND GAMEPLAY I’ve ever seen in my LIFE, one of the HARDEST PARTS OF GAME DEVELOPMENT that someone probably spent months getting down to such a truly astounding finish, and somehow reach the conclusion the guy whose fuckups lead to the deaths of hundreds of children, intentional child abuse, and the downfall of his kingdom was RIGHT?!

[polar534]

Jersey Stealing Pt. 4

Titan, this was a lot longer then I had ever planned on it being. I started writing Jersey Stealing I want to say MONTHS ago. You guys have only recently seen the parts that have been sitting done for ages. I guess it's just a side effect of this being my secondary, recovery project. Something fun I can write up while I'm at work.

Anyways, I'll stop babbling now and let y'all get to the well deserved end to this arc. This one is long. It's got a lot of loose threads tied up and it's also got my first instance of me ever typing out 'I love you' in any sort of writing... so that's a thing. Hopefully I did it alright.

(If you like this/want to read the other parts/want to figure out what the heck this Hockey AU is in the first place, consider checking out the MasterPost.)

***

Amity tapped her fingers, the sharp sound echoing loudly throughout the empty house. Sighing, she pushed her chair out and set aside the homework she was working on. The quiet nature of the house was almost physically bothering her as she walked to the window.Opening up to the sounds of the street below and woods behind, Amity took a deep breath and let the sounds comfort the growing restlessness creeping into her bones. Normally on the days she didn't have practice, both her and Luz would spend the evening in the Boiling Isles, visiting Lilith and Eda at the palace. There was always something to do, and Eda in particular was always looking for some excuse to sneak away from her duties even for just a little bit. It was something they both looked forward to. A time in which everyone could catch up, Gus and Willow included, outside of school or Willow and Amity's games.

However, today was different. Luz had a lot less shine in her eyes as Amity said goodbye to her at the portal, something that rarely happened. It only furthered Amity's resolve in her decision to stay behind and find some sort of resolution to the incident that now had been plaguing her girlfriend for almost a week.

The itching in her bones began to crawl into her skin as Amity felt her restlessness increase. Moving to the bed she grabbed some shoes and slid them on, making sure to grab her stick and jersey on the way out the door. Even if it was late, she knew Luz wouldn't be home anytime soon, and there was no telling when Camilla would be off of work. Equipment in hand, she moved down the street quickly, the daylight slowly fading behind her.

***

Crack!

The slam of the puck against the stick offered little resistance to Amity's swing as she continued the course she had designed for herself. Lapping the rink she crashed into the football training dummy she and the team had borrowed (stolen) from the local highschool. Feeling the weighted dummy barely move against the slick ice had her hitting the next lap even faster then the first.

Crack!

This time the swing was straight through the puck, almost as if Amity was merely cutting through the air with her motions. The puck flew through the air and pushed the netting of the goal to it's limit as the witch ducked her head down and lapped the rink a second time, building up speed to once again charge the dummy. Her chest heaved as her feet slowed in their steps, the ice now almost like water under her skates. There was no more traction to be gained and she instead allowed her body to continue it's momentum as she practically soared towards her goal. Her mind emptied as she plowed into the object in front of her, shoulder out, intending to cause as much damage as possible. This time, the metal sled holding the dummy up slid effortlessly through the ice as it flew backwards. The force of her impact wasn't clean though. Losing her balance and with too much speed to stop, Amity careened around the edge of where the dummy had stopped and she hit the ice hard. The green-haired girl barely registered the pain as her stick flew from her hand and she was left spinning out on the ice.

The witch panted heavily as she lay on the frozen rink, completely dazed, her heartbeat thudding so loudly in her ears that she could barely think.

As the pain of her fall caught up with her, so did the emotions she had tried to outrun for the past week. She wasn't aware of the first tear that slipped down the side of her cheek, but the many following after had her face almost bitterly cold in chilly temperature of the arena. A question repeated in her mind over and over.

Why?

The tears didn't bother her. Neither did the reason she was shedding them.

Why?

What bothered her most was Luz. Why was this the thing, this hope, this person, the one thing to break Luz like Amity had never seen? Why did this emotion, this defeat, seem to haunt Luz like a ghost that was all too familiar? Amity's heart broke for Luz, and maybe she was finally allowing herself to feel the pain, the burden she had tried carrying since she had seen it. Her mind raced to fill in the gaps and answer the questions as the adrenaline from her training began to crash and her body melted further into the ice.

She thought about all she knew and had learned about Luz's history in her own world. This world that Amity now had become a part of. It seemed like every day was a struggle for Luz, her wild and dangerous ideas being so obviously unappealing to others. Forcibly being isolated, even when you are trying to reach out was a lot different from how Amity grew up. She was always welcome, but never felt like she belonged… never wanted to.

'I think that’s why Luz held on to the hope that one day they could be friends'

It was Luz's connection to Amity that severed the last chance of her bonding to her past. It was the step over the line for Sasha, the person Luz had hung her last hopes on before she met Willow, before she met Gus, before she met Amity.

The adrenaline was gone. Her body aching, Amity crawled her way to her feet feeling more hollow then ever before. Slowly, she slid the training dummy off the ice, and grabbed her stick. Her eyes glanced to the puck that was still in the empty space of the goal as she packed the last of her equipment away. Glancing at her phone she saw that there were missed messages.

-I'm home now.

Missed Call from Luz

-Amity?

-Where are you?

-I hope you're ok.

Amity took one last look at the ice behind her before she tapped out a quick response, slinging her jersey off and over her shoulder as she walked out of the building.

-Sorry. I was practicing.

-I'll be home soon.

***

Amity crept up the stairs and to the bedroom. Peeking open the door slowly she saw that Luz was curled up on the bed, wrapped up snugly in a blanket and using a small lamp to read by. As soon as the door opened her eyes shot up and the ghost of a smile lit up her face in the relative darkness.

"Ahhh, there she is!"

Amity smiled back as she wormed her way further into the room and set her equipment down. Kicking off her shoes she sat down on the edge of the bed as Luz set her book down and clung onto her back, her head resting comfortably in the crook of the witch's neck.

"I'm sorry I was late." Amity mumbled quietly as she leaned her face into Luz's, enjoying her girlfriend's warmth as it chased away the bite of cold that still lingered from the rink.

"I am too." Luz rumbled back into her ear as she squeezed her arms tightly around the witch's torso and pulled her fully down onto the bed.

"Oh? Miss me much Noceda?" Amity teased as they both wrapped the blanket around them and settled in, Luz in Amity's arms.

Luz merely responded with a low growl as she snuggled further into the other's girls embrace, making sure her face was buried into Amity's chest. After a moment of enjoying being close and together again, Luz finally lifted her face. Her eyes were tired, but they held the shine of curiosity that Amity was used to. Deep in those wide brown eyes there was a flicker of the Luz she knew and loved.

Then that flicker faded.

"So… you were out pretty late."

Amity nodded. It wasn't an accusation, just a comment. It didn't stop the guilt from rushing in however.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was caught up in practicing and didn't realize the time."

"Lokte's brother stopped by earlier." Luz said calmly.

Amity's blood froze. It wasn't as if she wanted to hide what she had been up to for the last few days, but rather didn't want to worry Luz any more then she already was. It was too late now though.

"He wanted to apologize. For what happened at the game. He looked pretty spooked. Guess Lokte didn't go easy on him."

"I wouldn't either." Amity growled stiffly. It may have been a genuine mistake, but that didn't mean the threat didn't bother her. What was worse was that Luz still seemed completely calm. Amity didn't know what to expect. Would she be mad? Or just disappointed?

Silence fell between the pair.

"You talked with them today… didn't you?"

There was another moment of silence before Amity nodded. Luz continued to face away from her, but the witch knew that her girlfriend knew the answer before she had asked. After a few more agonizing seconds, Luz finally faced her. The smallest sliver of a smile crept it's way on her face, and the light in her eyes seemed to come back ever so slightly.

"Sooo… just how obnoxious is Bryce?" Luz asked, gently teasing. Her light voice instantly broke through the stiff air between them.

Amity let out a sigh of relief as she laughed a bit to herself.

"I have no idea how you put up with him at all. He's got to be one of the dullest people I have ever met. I told him multiple times I was your girlfriend and he still couldn't take the hint! He kept trying to ask me out." The witch growled lowly, unconsciously squeezing Luz tighter.

"Oh. Huh..." Luz hummed thoughtfully.

"Luz there was no way I was going to say yes. You know that right?"

Luz sat up and waved her hand as if dismissing Amity's thought.

"Yeah of course I know that." She assured the witch almost like an after thought, now looking curiously out the window. "It's just weird. Bryce isn't the type to ask girls out. He just hasn't ever been interested in dating before."

"Could've fooled me." Amity grumbled unhappily, Byrce's aggressive way of flirting still very much prevalent in her mind.

Luz turned back to her with another smile, this one supportive and warm.

"Oh Ami. He's still very much a trashbag." Luz said slowly, her distaste for Bryce very barely hidden. "You didn't have to go talk to them for me you know." She added after a pause, her voice growing quiet.

"Well. Let's see, they threatened you, called you a liar and then tried to go on with their life as if everything was ok. As if there wasn't any consequences." Amity listed as she stared at the ceiling and counted on her fingers. After thinking for awhile she stared hard at Luz. "Yeah. I wasn't about to let that happen."

Luz's smile grew a little more genuine as both girls looked at each other. She leaned back up against Amity as they settled back down into the bed. There wasn't anything more to say.

"So practicing huh? Did you use the football dummy?" Luz asked suddenly and excitedly.

Amity couldn't help but smile, it had been Luz's idea to use it (steal it) in the first place.

"It was a little weird to use, but honestly on the second try I sent it flying."

"Awesome." Luz breathed. "I demand you take me along next time."

Amity laughed. "You've been spending too much time with King." She teased gently as she sat up to lean against the bed frame. Luz promptly flopped across her lap and uncovered her book from earlier to flip open.

"Nonsense." The human girl dismissed as her eyes began to scan the pages again.

"What are you reading anyways?" Amity asked after a pause told her the conversation might be over.

"Shhhhhhh." Luz reached over and lazily flopped a hand against Amity's face in an attempt to gently shush her. "I'm almost done with this scene."

Raising an eyebrow, Amity patiently waited, unaware that she and Luz would soon spend the next 2 hours getting into the first book of a brand new series. After thoroughly researching to find out that yes, the rest of the series was available at the library, the two girls settled in for the night. As they were drifting off, Luz holding Amity tightly to her chest, the witch had almost completely forgotten about the trials they had both been through. The weight of their trauma seemed so far away, lost in the warmth of the blankets and her girlfriend's arms.

No matter what happened, if every day ended with Luz right beside her, Amity knew they could and they would survive anything that life threw at them.

Above her, Luz buried her face into her hair, breathing in deeply as sleep overtook her.

"…mity…" She mumbled sleepily.

Amity couldn't help but giggle a bit. Luz hated falling asleep, always clinging to her consciousness despite how exhausted she was. Always finding some excuse to stay up just a little longer.

"Yes?"

"… thanks."

Amity's ears twitched before a small smile appeared on her face. She snuggled into Luz further.

"Anytime." The witch reassured her as she heard her girlfriend sigh happily above her. The room grew quiet once again and Amity was almost fully asleep by the time Luz spoke next.

"I love you."

The heat rushed to Amity's cheeks, as it always did when she heard those 3 little words. Her heart skipped a bit as it beat faster in it's desperate attempt to return the affection.

"I love you too Luz."

***

Luz didn't return to normal right away, though the night clearly had an effect on her. However, it never took long for the unbreakable spirit of Luz Noceda to rear it's head again and soon enough, The Otter's hockey practice was once again filled with the sounds of rambunctious applause and cheering. The entire team seemed to be effected by the return of their number 1 fan as they all began to work harder, feeling the hope return. After all, they were 4-1 and were still riding high on their winning streak.

Amity and Lokte especially felt the effects of Luz's return to form, not only on a personal level, but also with the renewed gusto of their team.

Which is why, on the last practice before their big game, everything came to an almost halt as the door of the rink opened and a stranger appeared looking very lost.

It wasn't as if the majority of the team knew this new person, but they recognized the bad news this person brought as their star player completely froze. Amity recognized the figure immediately. She was already furiously skating off the ice as they started to approach Luz, Lokte quickly calling for a 5 minute break behind her. Up in the stands, Luz looked up, surprised to see a face beside her in the usually barren stands. She was even more surprised by just how familiar the face was.

Beside her, Sasha was clenching tightly to her arm, looking absolutely everywhere but at Luz herself. She looked like she was trying to form a sentence as the commotion on the ice finally caught up to them. Both girls turned to see Amity, desperately pulling off her skates in the players box, her face furious.

"Wait! Wait! I can explain!" Sasha called out as they watched Lokte skate up next to Amity who growled out a quick response. Now both players seemed set on heading up to the stands, completely uncaring about the former bullies cry.

Luz didn't know what to do. Her mind had frozen when she saw Sasha and not knowing what to think, she didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were locked on Lokte and Amity as they started climbing the stairs to where she was, feeling almost grateful that she would have some sort of backup in just a few moments.

It wasn't that she was scared, but her chest seemed to ache the same way it had the last couple of days and she was acutely aware that she seemed to shrink in Sasha's presence. Luz knew that she hadn't been herself in the days following her encounter with Sasha and Bryce before. It had taken a lot out of her, and although she always wanted to look for the best in people, she wasn't keen to repeat that experience.

Especially with how worried Amity had been.

"Ok. Well since it definitely seems like I'm about to be chased from this place," Sasha spoke up, interrupting Luz's fleeting thoughts and quickly turning to her with wide eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Really. I'm not looking for any sort of forgiveness. I don't… I don't deserve that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I just… I was hoping we could talk."

Luz merely blinked, her mind swirling. She was still very much aware of her girlfriend closing in on them, and Sasha's already flighty behavior. She knew she needed to make a move to stop something from happening but she couldn't think past the girl's words.

'I'm sorry'

"You… wanted to talk?" Luz finally choked out, finding some sort of sticking point to allow herself to speak again.

Sasha almost looked a little sheepish, her fearful eyes darting back and forth between the hockey players quickly coming up the stairs and the girl she had hurt.

"Yeah. For all the years I've known you… I realized I know absolutely nothing about you." The blonde haired girl laughed.

The laugh was so genuine that Luz couldn't help but laugh with her. After all, everything she said was true. They had known each other for a long time, but they were still practically complete strangers. It was Luz who had always wanted that to change, but Sasha had never made an attempt to fix anything between them before. Time was running out however as Sasha turned to leave, clearly afraid of the players coming up the steps.

She was quickly stopped by Luz's hand on her arm.

"Hey! I thought I told you not to go near her again!" Amity snarled, now being close enough to yell.

Luz could feel the shiver of fear that shot through Sasha as Amity bared her fangs. Again, she couldn't help but smile, after all, Amity was pretty terrifying when she wanted to be. Looking absolutely ready to bolt, Sasha turned to Luz with wide eyes, clearly praying that this wasn't some big trap. Luz only winked as a response.

Letting her arm go, Luz stood up and put herself between Amity and Sasha, holding her arms out to the side to fully block the girl behind her.

Amity froze as Lokte stopped on the steps below her, their arms crossing in frustration.

"Luz?" The witch asked tentatively. Her voice was full of concern and worry, all traces of anger almost completely fading as she stared at her girlfriend in confusion.

Luz took a deep breath.

"It's okay Ami. She just wants to talk."

Amity bristled in anger, but she did her best to remain calm. "Are you ok?"

Luz glanced behind her and took note of Sasha's wide, shocked eyes. Her face was blank as she turned back around to face her girlfriend.

"Give me a stick and I'll make sure she doesn't get too out of line." Luz smirked after a short pause.

A startled gasp from behind her had Lokte and Luz both laughing while Amity merely rolled her eyes. Taking a step forward she planted a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek.

"Let me know the moment she starts bothering you, ok?" Amity whispered. Luz caught her hand as she backed up again and held it tight as she flashed a confident smile.

"Of course." Luz grinned at her as she swung the witch's hand and let it go. "You just get back to practicing. No need to stop on my behalf."

"I could name several reasons." Lokte interjected, still looking rather distrustful of the girl tentatively peeking out from behind Luz.

Despite their reluctance, Amity nodded at Luz and dragged her friend back down to the rink. Luz watched them leave for just a bit before turning to Sasha with a grin.

"Alright. Crisis adverted." She laughed playfully. "Just be grateful she didn't jump at ya from the ceiling. I've seen it happen. It's not pretty."

Sasha laughed nervously. "So… does this mean we can talk?"

Luz laughed again as she fearlessly grabbed Sasha and forced her to sit next to her on the bleacher.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear you ask me that?"

…

Amity slid into the seat next to Luz as she watched her teammates wrap up on the ice. Sasha had left only a little while ago and the witch could see a noticeable slouch to her girlfriends shoulders. Despite that, Luz barely moved as Amity gently reached for her hand.

"How are you doing?" She asked quietly, weaving her fingers through Luz's own.

After a short pause, Luz squeezed her fingers back and looked up at her with watery brown eyes. Amity immediately tensed. She didn’t trust that look and if Sasha had hurt her again…

Well the girl hadn't left that long ago, if she hurried, there was still a definite chance that the witch could catch her. She was preparing to grab her stick and hurry out the door as Luz finally spoke.

"We aren't friends yet…" Luz stated slowly, the light in her eyes vibrantly bright as she spoke.

"But it's a start."

[novantinuum]

Intake (SUF one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: brief discussion of mental illness related topics like suicide ideation and intrusive thoughts.)

Words: 2800

Summary: Steven fills out an important form.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a small glimpse into Steven’s journey to find a therapist.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

His leg bounces with a restless fervor as he slumps in the waiting room chair, clutching the clipboard and pencil the receptionist gave him with a white knuckled grip. Gaze hardened, he takes a good long look at the other patients spread across the room, a few of them appearing equally as spent and fidgety as him, and hunches over the intake form so his answers will be conclusively obscured from their view.

He grimaces. Ugh. Why would a place like this lay out their chairs so close, anyways? Why even give people the option of being nosey? He may be stuck seeing this therapist Connie’s mom recommended because he’s all messed up in the head, but it’s not like he wants the whole planet to know about it. Goodness knows all of Beach City and Little Homeworld already does thanks to his little ‘incident’ a month back. That’s bad enough.

His chest almost feeling hollow as he sighs, he scrawls in his name, his birthday, his cell number, address, and an emergency contact (Dad, who left for the car to give him privacy after signing a few forms he can’t fill out as a minor) on the lines indicated. He leaves out his many middle names for once, all of them leaving a bitter taste in his mouth at this present moment. Briefly, he wonders if this will be a problem, as these past few weeks Dr. Maheswaran assisted his dad in finally acquiring legal documentation and health insurance for him, and per those records he’s officially ‘Steven Quartz Universe’ in the eyes of the law.

Eventually he shrugs, figuring the likelihood of there being another sixteen-year-old ‘Steven Universe’ here today to confuse him with is nearing zero.

Okay, what’s next?

He briefly skims over the next few passages— a bunch of legalese about the terms of counselor-patient confidentiality and when they might have to breach that for safety reasons— and signs where indicated so they know he looked over it.

Someone sitting two chairs away coughs. He can’t help but flinch at the sudden noise, and folds himself tighter in his own seat as he flips over the first page of the form and continues to read.

In a few words, explain why you’ve chosen to reach out to us today. How can we help you?

Steven frowns, fingers twitching around the shaft of the pencil as he contemplates how to respond. For whatever reason, the question “explain why you’re here” feels very blunt and antagonistic to him in a way he can’t quite ascertain. Like... in a “give the wrong answer, get booted right out the door” sorta way. He lifts his head, peering at all the humans spread across the room, each and every one with their own story, the central character of their own worlds. Some are texting on their phones as they wait for the receptionist to call their names, others are filling out forms as well. What brought these people here, he wonders? Surely there’s plenty of people having a worse time than him right now. Surely there’s people with real problems, people who are literally struggling just to stay alive from day-to-day. He’s not like that, right? Besides that one little wobble a month back, he’s been handling his problems on his own fairly okay. Hasn’t he? So what makes him selfish enough to think that he’s worth anyone’s time?

In his pocket his phone vibrates, knocking him back into reality. He yanks it out and switches it on to look at the new text splashed across the lock screen:

Dad: Hey Schtu-ball, just wanna let you know that I’m proud of you and love you very much. You’ve got this!

He stares at these words for a good minute, the kind sentiment— despite reading as a little hopelessly over-encouraging— filling the hollow space in his chest partway. Even if his dad’s been a bit overbearing in his affections this past month, it’s clear he means well.

So. Why am I here today, he thinks, reading the question over again. He folds his fingers up into a stiff fist, pulling his thumb across his knuckles. After licking his chapped lips and shoving his phone back in his pocket, he scribbles a hasty reply.

I feel really angry and empty and tense and just want to be better.

The teen pauses, allowing those words to echo over and over in his mind, to truly sink in. It’s such a succinct and to-the-point admission that he suddenly wonders why he ever doubted he was less deserving of aid than anyone else in this waiting room.

His countenance a little lighter now and his shoulders growing less stiff, he moves on to the next section.

To aid our counselors in providing you the best possible care, please rate the following statements on a scale from zero to four, zero meaning “not at all like me,” and four meaning “extremely like me.”

Steven’s eyes dart across the length of the massive table below these instructions, his previous anxiety rushing back into his brittle bones as if it’d never left. Each row is host to a short sentence and five blank boxes, numbered zero to four. Read it and rate yourself, right? Should be simple enough. But as his glance flits over these statements and he understands the sort of personal, probing questions they’re asking through them, he begins to mistrust his previous burst of optimism. Dread floods his system, making his cheeks flush bright pink. Heart pounding at the mere thought of people staring, he drops his head lower, successfully hiding most of his face behind the clipboard until he can coax that betraying glow into fading away.

In the end, this goes to prove that it doesn’t matter if everyone says therapy will be ‘helpful’ for him; reflecting on all this junk is still gonna suck.

Quietly, he takes a steadying breath and forces himself to read on, to crack open the hornet’s nest that is the depths of his crap brain.

1. I am shy around others.

He considers this for a moment. Shy. Historically, this has never been a word people would use to describe him. For years he reveled in the thrill of meeting new people, new Gems. His childhood eagerness to engage in fellowship with those around is half the reason Era 3 even exists. And he’s fine around people he knows. Like, on a rare good day he has no problem playing board games or watching cheesy soap operas with his friends. But to be fair... as of late, his eagerness to meet anyone new feels like it’s all but vanished. Is that being shy? Or is that just him failing to care for anyone beyond his inner circle?

With a small shrug he checks the box for one, and moves on.

2. I don’t enjoy being around people as much as I used to.

Hmm. Probably a three. People are unintentionally exhausting these days. He used to be energized by social interaction, and now it just leaves him sucked dry. Most days he’d rather stick to his room.

3. I feel isolated and alone.

The weight of the diamond embedded in his belly— something he normally barely notices— grows ever more apparent as he marks off a four.

4. My heart often races for no good reason.

Uh, yeah. What happened just a minute ago is a pretty good tell. Four.

5. I have spells of terror or panic.

Another four.

6. I am anxious that I might have a panic attack while in public.

Four once more. He holds his pencil tighter, squirming in his seat as he tries (and fails) not to think about the pale scars spread across his back, hidden in his hairline, and on the underside of his arms, indentations that once marked the base of the crystalline spines that jut out from between his scales.

7. I think about food more than I’d like to.

Steven pauses at this one. For once, he’s not sure he can say this statement applies to him. Truth be told, he only started caring about what he put in his mouth earlier this year, when he cut meat and fish out of his diet. And that’s not... a bad thing? It’s not bad to want to consider the impact your food choices have on the environment? He definitely didn’t choose to do so for self-denying reasons, and that’s probably what they’re asking about. He checks zero, and moves on.

8. I feel out of control when I eat.

He almost checks another zero, but then he remembers that day after the proposal... and the week after his incident. And he decides that even if he doesn’t consciously obsess over the food he eats, there’s still a few occasions where once he starts snacking he finds it difficult to stop. A one it is, then.

9. I have sleep difficulties.

This statement nearly makes him laugh. Does he have sleep difficulties. Hah. He doesn’t think he’s gotten a truly restful night of sleep since he sacrificed himself to Homeworld at fourteen.

A solid four. No question.

10. My thoughts are racing.

Four.

11. I feel uncomfortable around people I don’t know.

Hmm. Two.

12. I drink alcohol frequently.

The only alcohol he’s ever had is a tiny sip of his dad’s with permission at Garnet’s wedding reception, and it tasted terrible. He has no interest in drinking again. Zero.

13. When I drink alcohol I can’t remember what happened.

Zero.

14. I drink more than I should.

Zero again.

15. I have done something I have regretted because of drinking.

Another zero. It almost makes him feel better, just knowing there’s a decent number of lines on this paper that aren’t a carbon copy of his lived experience.

16. I feel sad all the time.

Aaaand back to “the story of his life.” Briefly, he wonders if ‘feeling sad’ is the same thing as feeling nothing at all. But then again, does the difference really matter? He checks the box for three.

17. I am concerned that other people don’t like me.

Three. Although honestly, he’s even more concerned that people continue to like him after everything he’s done.

18. I feel worthless.

Steven nibbles at the inside of his cheek as he reads this statement, memories automatically flashing through the pathetic events of the last few weeks, through all the days he barely crawled out from under his covers, all the days he didn’t even manage to brush his teeth or run his fingers through his greasy, knotted hair, all those awful days he couldn’t so much as play one of his video games without growing tired of it in minutes and taking a restless nap for the rest of the afternoon instead.

Four.

19. I feel helpless.

Two. Everyday affairs are a drag, but at the very least he knows he can fight his way out of danger in a pinch. He wouldn’t call that helpless.

20. I have thoughts of ending my life.

He freezes. Goes back, reads this line again. Reads it a third time to make sure he’s not horrendously misconstruing the prompt he’s been given.

(Tries not to think too deeply about the graphic images that flood his imagination some nights. It’s just stray thoughts, though. He’s fine.)

One, he marks, although his muscles can’t help but twitch as he shifts his wrist, as if deep down he knows he’s underplaying his answer.

21. I feel tense.

Steven gives a small snort under his breath. Yeah, he outright admitted as much earlier in this form. Four.

22. I get angry easily.

His grip tightens.

Four.

23. I have difficulty controlling my temper.

He swallows hard, his mouth feeling abnormally dry. He’s not sure he likes how blunt and probing this questionnaire is becoming.

Four...

24. I sometimes feel like breaking or smashing things.

His knuckles go white around his pencil, and he only barely resists the temptation to snap it in half as he feels a rush of hard light flow the distance from his gem through the veins of his arm. Geeze, it’s not like he means to break things! It’s just that all of his stupid powers are linked with his emotions, and whenever he gets even marginally upset now things start to splinter, crack in half, and inevitably end up broken. Just another sign he’s fated to ruin everything around him forever, and that his intent doesn’t matter. Why do they have to pry into this? He already feels terrible enough for thinking these things.

Three, he checks, his eyes damp, but mostly because he’s too scared what their response will be otherwise.

25. I am not able to concentrate as well as usual.

He takes a deep breath, coaxing his body to return to a baseline state. Eh. He’ll give this a two.

26. I feel self-conscious around others.

His glance skirts over the edge of the clipboard to monitor the four others currently spread out across the room. One’s rhythmically swinging their legs, another is still filling out a form like him, but sitting criss-cross on the chair, and the other two are quietly typing on their phones. Thankfully none of them are pressing an ounce of attention his way, (at least, not right now), but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like an exposed nerve. Three.

27. I am afraid I may lose control and act violently.

The raw memories hit like lightning before he can even think to prepare.

Flashes of Pink. Orange fragments, cold and slick in his palms. Thunder splits the skies overhead, each cacophonous sound manifesting in perfect synchronicity with his erratic heartbeat, with each tidal wave of thoughts gushing like a maelstrom through his head: SHATTERER, I’m a shatterer, I’m—

Feeling almost dizzy from the intensity of his heart’s pulse, he knows with full certainty that his cheeks are glowing bright pink again. All he can do is clench his fists, suck down whatever amount of fresh air his lungs will allow, and pray to the very stars themselves that it’ll fade away before it garners the attention of every last human in this place.

He checks the box for four, pencil marking so hard that slivers of graphite splinter off onto the page, and moves on before he can be cowardly enough to change his answer.

28. I have thoughts of hurting others.

His fingernails claw into the thin denim at his knee, limbs outright quivering as he stews in his seat, as he’s forced to reflect upon all the ugly, ugly thoughts that have flit across his awareness over the past weeks. Thoughts about one Gem specifically. He’s... always been angry, always harbored deep resentment... but ever since his most recent trip to visit Her, he hasn’t been able to shake this awful idea: a vision of him standing over the remnants of her gemstone, shattered, fragments spilled across the otherwise pristine floors of Homeworld. He... he didn’t do it when he had the chance. He wouldn’t do it, would he?

(Orange fragments, cold and slick...)

Would he??

And yet nevertheless, the thought tortures him with its frequency, makes him feel downright nauseous at every turn. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to feel this way at all.

Four.

29. I am unable to keep up with my schoolwork.

Stop. Sharp inhale. Staccato, shaky exhale. Repeat, deeper this time. Repeat.

(He can no longer see neon pink reflecting in the smooth metal clasp at the top of his clipboard.)

Okay. Schoolwork.

N/A, he writes in one of the boxes, arm still trembling from the last two questions despite his attempt at cool-down exercises. Not applicable. He hasn’t even been to school, and dreads the inevitability of this therapist asking about that mess.

30. It’s hard to stay motivated for my classes.

N/A.

31. I feel confident that I can succeed academically.

N/A, once more.

And like that, the questionnaire is over. Steven is quick to hide his answers behind the front page, and slides the pencil through the length of the metal clip. He glances around him, drinking in his surroundings with pinpoint precision. Despite his earlier concerns, no one is maliciously staring. No one’s whispering. He internally wrestled with a few challenging subjects and what do you know, it didn’t end in an embarrassingly public meltdown. He— he wipes a stray tear from his eye with the butt of his palm— he took a solid step forward today.

Coercing his body to move, he pulls himself out of the cushioned chair and crosses the room.

“I finished,” he says softly, proudly, as he hands the clipboard and pencil to the receptionist. She smiles and accepts his hard-fought offering.

For the first time in a while, the smile he instinctively flashes back almost feels genuine.

I want to be better, he thinks. I will be better.

____

Notes:

This fic is loosely based on my own experience of the intake process, and the questionnaire I had to fill out. No two intake experiences are the same though, of course. This is merely one possibility. I also take personal liberties on the way I depict Steven’s struggle with mental health, and acknowledge and respect that no two fans’ interpretation will be the same.

Additional notes: -Steven’s still a minor, so he can’t actually sign contracts. I figure Greg signed a handful of forms beforehand as his guardian, and then left to allow his son a bit of privacy with filling out the questionnaire stuff. Since he's a teen, they're still giving him the full confidentiality clauses to look over so he's wholly aware how that works, though.

-To expand on a brief comment made in the midst of this, I headcanon that Steven cut both meat and fish out of his diet, and thus actually slipped up on his vegetarian diet when he was training with Jasper. I interpret this as further showcasing how the poor kid— due to being mentally vulnerable at the time and thus liable to coercion/unwise decisions— began to take actions that went against much of his established morality. He ended up sacrificing his dietary choices during those days, just like he briefly sacrificed his pacifistic views to fight Jasper.

-I also headcanon that the therapist Steven is going in to see after this isn’t the one he eventually sticks with and mentions as “my new therapist” in The Future. It’s totally normal and okay to try a few different people to find someone who you click with, after all.

Thank you for reading!

[insanityclause]

Guillermo Del Toro is no stranger to widespread acclaim, especially from his ride or die legion of fans. Pan’s Labyrinth, the Hellboy duology, the list of genre-bending, timeless masterworks goes on. Coming off his 2 Oscar wins for The Shape of Water in 2018, and moving into finally releasing his animated Pinocchio film from the pits of development hell along with an adaption of Nightmare Alley next year, this couldn’t be a more thriving time for the Mexican auteur. Though amongst all the praise and glory, something has still felt missing these last handful of years. Besides his Oscar-winning film, Del Toro’s works prior to the 2010s are what generally buzz conversations of his genius. Those aforementioned films did, after all, skyrocket his name to fame. His titles from the last decade, however, are just as crucial to the Del Toro canon and emphasize his greater influence as a filmmaker. One, in particular, has seemingly gotten by in its young life at the hands of few. But now that Crimson Peak has officially turned 5, it’s time to turn that few into many.

Del Toro’s trifecta of the 2010s (not counting his work on television) stand out vastly from one another. Pacific Rim, Crimson Peak, and The Shape of Water: all love letters penned from the ‘nichest’ corners of his mind. These 3 arguably boast more diversity in genre than Del Toro’s 5 films of the 2000s (3 comic-book adaptations and 2 Spanish-set fantasies). Not a criticism, as established, those films now flaunt an immovable place within the cultural zeitgeist. Though with a career notoriously marked by a slew of unrealized projects (more on this later), it’s not often recognized how the ideas that did make the cut still lead a crystal clear trajectory in Del Toro’s growth as a storyteller. In the eyes of many, Del Toro pulls ideas out of a hat and gambles on which one actually sees the light of day. Humorous sure, but this is far from the truth.

Each Del Toro project feels like a pivotal step for what would come later, take his work on Trollhunters paving the way for his upcoming first animated feature for instance. Despite this trajectory, Crimson Peak feels criminally unsung 5 years later. Pacific Rim continued its life with a sequel and more planned spin-offs. The Shape of Water literally set a new bar for the Academy. This leaves Crimson Peak feeling like the pushed aside middle child of this trio. This isn’t a call for a sequel, and ‘underrated’ gets tossed around very loosely in modern film discussion. But for cinema as quintessential as Crimson Peak, it just doesn’t feel like it gets enough recognition – especially when the current film industry is seeing less big-budget, R-rated projects heavily steeped in genre.

You can easily trace Crimson Peak‘s short-lived spotlight back to its marketing. The timely October release and scare-heavy trailers sold a classic ‘Haunted House’ horror, when in reality, Del Toro’s film is a Gothic Romance. Set in the early 1900s, an aspiring American writer, Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska), is swept away by a promising English baronet, Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston). They discover true love and marry, leading the young newlywed to her husband’s decaying mansion in the English hills. The age-old manor is slowly, but surely, sinking in red clay – the very source of Sharpe’s wealth. Here Edith is forced to live with her new sister-in-law, Lucille Sharpe (Jessica Chastain), a reserved yet commanding force who works to hide the true nature of the house and its endless secrets. Mystery lingers as untamed lust, envy and greed unfold between the mansion walls, not leaving enough room for the restless red-colored spirits who haunt them. When it snows on this cursed hill, the clay surfaces, making it seem as if the land bleeds. Given more than just red clay rises from beneath, a deeper meaning is given to the place locals call ‘Crimson Peak’.

Just like the clay at the center of its mystery, Crimson Peak is an amalgamation, but of genre. It would be novice to expect anything less from Del Toro. The Gothic elements call back to many classic tales, such as Alfred Hitchcock’s adaption of Rebecca and, of course, Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. On the horror side, homage is paid to Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining and Jack Clayton’s The Innocents. It’s a devilish blend that only this filmmaker could pull off so beautifully. And oh is Crimson Peak so god damn gorgeous. To contrast common period pieces that go for muted or sepia-toned color palettes, Del Toro turns the saturation on high. The result is an eye-popping picture that heightens the core emotions at play: fear, pain, and more importantly, love. Simply mesmerizing, avid fans will be quick to recognize the same shades of golden yellows, sea greens, and ruby reds found in Del Toro’s other works. It feels right at home in his filmography visually, while packing its own unique punch.

Red, a color mainly associated with passion, here instead intricately represents endless bloodshed. A twist that would suggest Crimson Peak is just as equal a horror film as it is a love story. Regardless of what might have been initially marketed to audiences in 2015, this film is a Gothic Romance from start to finish. Del Toro himself made this distinction clear to the studio from the get-go and repeatedly draws the line whenever given the chance. Yet, much like the rest of his repertoire, Crimson Peak utilizes horror not as a means to an end, but as a means for introspection. Yes, there are classic horror conventions such as jump scares, but it couldn’t be more obvious that Crimson Peak isn’t trying to evoke the same kind of high and dry fear other films heavily rely on. Del Toro is actively trying to get under your skin to achieve a hell of a cathartic viewing experience.

The ghosts of our past and how we let them define us is a core theme in Crimson Peak. The film opens on a flashback in which Edith is visited by the charcoal black ghost of her recently deceased mother. The nature of this visit sets the groundwork for the rest of the narrative. Mother Ghost, dreadful in appearance, doesn’t necessarily come to haunt her child, but to warn her. “Beware of Crimson Peak,” she says. The way Edith takes in this otherworldly occurrence, and those that follow, sets her apart from everyone else in the film. Wherein others flee from or lock away the ghosts of their past, she learns how to wear them on her sleeves – reaching out to the dead multiple times in the story, each attempt more confident than the last. Not too dissimilar from what Del Toro was playing with before, Jaeger pilots confronting past trauma in their quest to defeat Kaiju. At the same time, the transformation that occurs in Crimson Peak when neglected demons consume you from the inside – humans becoming the true monsters of their supernatural tales – would only be amplified in Del Toro’s next film.

Every minute detail coincides with this strategized, therapeutic use of horror. And to the everyday moviegoer trained by common tropes, Crimson Peak is quite deceptive. Just like Mother Ghost at the beginning of the film, the red spirits never manifest with the intent to cause physical harm, but instead to give messages and guide. Red clay seeps down the walls and the mansion ‘breathes’ as the country winds burst in. The house feels alive in the most cinematic sense possible, but the case as to it being ‘horrifying’ is not so black and white. Expertly designed to every inch, there is plenty of beauty to be found in the manor. Much of it has just been corrupted by a debauched affair – keeping this story rooted as a Gothic Romance. Subversion has always been the name of Del Toro’s game, and it’s within Crimson Peak that he uses it to mix genre so well while still staying true to his vision.

Though Crimson Peak saw Del Toro take subversion to a new level, notably with his main character. This film is a key chapter in his overarching legacy; not the first of his works to be lead by a defiant woman, but the first to have the female hero entangled in an unabashed love story. Effortlessly played by the brilliant Mia Wasikowska, the not so damsel in distress at the center of Crimson Peak is one of the most significant characters of Del Toro’s career. In discussing Gothic Romance with The Mary Sue in 2015, Del Toro explains: “This is quintessentially a female genre, that was written with characters that were very complex, very strong. I wanted to make a movie in which to some degree I recuperated and, maybe if possible, enhanced all that.” And enhanced he did for every central male character acts in more distress than Edith ever does, even when she is literally at the edge of death. A more than welcome change of pace that makes for a more resonating film.

Edith’s willingness to tackle the unknown is captivating and her vigor inspiring. But she isn’t absolved of frailty. For someone who comes to terms with facing the dead, her sheer vulnerability to heartbreak and suffering brings great humanity to the role. Hardly recognized, but Edith is one of Del Toro’s most self-reflective protagonists. A marginalized writer, inspired by the great Mary Shelley no less, in the midst of drafting her magnum opus, she immediately faces backlash from her novel’s inclusion of the paranormal. “It’s not [a ghost story]. It’s more a story with a ghost in it. The ghost is just a metaphor… for the past,” she says – giving Crimson Peak a rare Del Toro tongue-in-cheek quality that he utilizes until the credits roll. Meta enough given that the crimson ghosts Edith later encounters are, in fact, echoes of the past, but when looking back on the public’s initial perception of the film, it creates a charming, albeit ironic, wit only found here.

Additionally, when tracing back to Crimson Peak‘s pre-production days, you’ll find something even more profound. Penned by Del Toro and an old collaborator, screenwriter Matthew Robbins; this was the first script completed after the release of Pan’s Labyrinth in 2006. The two first worked together an entire decade earlier on Mimic, which has now gone down as the only film Del Toro has truly lost to studio interference. Del Toro was supposed to direct Crimson Peak in the late 2000s, but along came Hellboy II and his involvement in launching The Hobbit (another R.I.P). Through this hectic time, Del Toro would reunite with Robbins in writing 2010’s Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, directed by Troy Nixey. However, the two also spent time together writing something else: an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness.

For those unfamiliar, At the Mountains of Madness is by far one of, if not, the most tragic of this filmmaker’s unrealized projects. After spending years trying to get this dream off the ground, Del Toro had the following to say to Empire in 2010: “It doesn’t look like I can do it. It’s very difficult for the studios to take the step of doing a period-set, R-rated, tentpole movie with a tough ending and no love story.” The payoff of Crimson Peak being a period-set, R-rated, tentpole film only 5 years after that statement couldn’t be sweeter. In the film, Edith is told to insert a love story for the better of her novel. Del Toro is obviously commenting on expectations tied to gender here, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s also referring to one of the biggest thorns in his own writing career – one that also ties back to writing partner Matthew Robbins.

When faced with the question, Del Toro has consistently said that all of his films carry an inherent Mexican touch just from the utter fact that they come from him, and Crimson Peak is no different. Whether if deriving from his personal experiences with tackling genre, both on and off paper, or from actual events tied to his life – Del Toro reimagines two separate ghostly encounters experienced by him and his mother through Edith – this film beams with the very essence of Del Toro’s soul. Perhaps most personified when the marginalized writer gets bloody and fights back with nothing but her pen, a visual that cements this as an important stepping stone in his career. It’s a fascinating through-line, connecting to very different segments of his canon while still defining a clear path. The mending of our wounds and subversion of gender roles is continued from Pacific Rim, while setting a bold new course for delving into unfiltered, mature romance in The Shape of Water.

This is only a fraction of what makes Crimson Peak quintessential Guillermo Del Toro. Gothic Romance has long been part of this auteur’s framework, and you would be remiss not to indulge in all of its glorious melodrama. Even if it isn’t your cup of tea, Del Toro will make it so. Reaching its 5-year anniversary, the film hits stronger than before. The intricate motifs, compelling use of practical effects (complete with the involvement of Del Toro veteran Doug Jones), and cathartic use of horror make for something that has yet to be replicated by a major studio. Its lacking box office performance suggests that maybe the world merely wasn’t ready for this masterwork? But just like its characters, we hold the power to define what comes next. Del Toro himself has previously ranked Crimson Peak as one of the 3 best films he’s ever made, and straight-up called it the most beautiful. Take his word and dive in no strings attached, because who knows when we’ll get another large scale, unapologetic Gothic Romance with this much grandeur.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

Ash goes to Edenhall to find Yaag during the destruction of Cocoon. Warnings for light swearing, injury and blood, mentions and discussion of death, and an overall glum mood. Also some endgame spoilers for the first FF13 game.

"What the hell..." Ash found herself whispering as she looks down at the sight below her. From her airbike, she could see the full view of Eden. Or, well, what was going to be left of Eden, that is.

Her eyes went wide in horror at all the Pulse beasts, the crushed buildings, the civilians crying for help. This is horrible...

Too much had happened too fast, and she hadn't quite had a chance to process it all. But it finally hit her. Eden was being destroyed. This was likely the end of Cocoon.

She had gotten the report of Cid Raines being dead not too long back, and it still felt surreal. The idea of him once being a Cocoon l'Cie was just as jarring. Him being appointed to Primarch too.

l'Cie or not... He was my friend. And now he's gone.

All she could hope for now was her family and Yaag making it out alright, but one of those seemed a lot more likely than the other. Yaag had left in the Proudclad, hoping to protect Edenhall all by himself. That idiot...

PSICOM soldiers were still pursuing the Pulse l'CIe after their appearance earlier that night, but she was not a PSICOM soldier. She had a different goal. She was going to find Yaag and make sure that she didn't lose anyone else.

“I guess Edenhall is my best bet...” She takes a deep breath and flies towards the heart of the city on her airbike.

~~~~~~

Ash never had much experience with on-field work. Or any of this. She wasn't a soldier, and nor did she want to be, but she did help PSICOM. She helped them defend Cocoon, and even helped with the Purge. Maybe not personally with the weapons, but it was some of her intel that led to the Pulse l'Cie hunts. Who was to say that she wasn’t as bloodstained as the soldiers themselves?

Edenhall, the heart of Cocoon, was off-limits to the public, save for some higher-up officials. She had never gotten a chance to go, but she knew that Yaag had multiple times to meet with the Primarch. Even images of the inside weren't revealed to the people. The Sanctum, in their own words (Cid had given her the intel), saw the people as nothing more than cattle.

She was grateful to the fal'Cie for everything they had provided her. A comfortable home, warm food everyday, an education in multiple fields, everything she considered to be "hers" was all because of them. The education system of Cocoon worked in such a way where anybody could pursue their areas of interest and have it fully paid for, and that only helped cultivate her passion for learning.

It was difficult for her to open her eyes to the truth. Even now, there were some blank holes, but what she had gathered was that the fal'Cie weren't right. Whatever happened to humanity, even if it was their downfall, should be all because of humanity. Not some self-proclaimed god with an ego as large as Cocoon itself.

She had felt this way for many years, but meeting with the Cavalry, learning who they really are, and talking to Yaag when he's not working had only solidified her opinion. Yaag had believed that perhaps the fal'Cie's rule would be best for the present and future prosperity of Cocoon, that maybe the Primarch wasn't entirely horrible. Somebody in his position couldn't afford to have doubts.

After all, he was the officer in charge of orchestrating the Purge, the massacre of all those innocent people in the name of Cocoon's peace and betterment. It was then when his hesitation to oh-so blindly follow the fal'Cie grew.

Ash flew into the building through a large hole in the roof, maybe caused by some kind of winged monster. It's not that she couldn't fight, she just didn't have much experience, so hopefully she could avoid confrontation.

Hopping off of her bike and grabbing her bag of essentials, she runs deeper into the building. It was large, and she couldn't help but feel small. Her footsteps echoed in empty halls, now cluttered with debris and things of the such.

Near the pale walls, however, she spots crystals. She stops, slowly approaching it. "It's... It's dead." And a Cie'th, no less. She shakes her head, stepping away. She had to keep going. She needed to find Yaag. She had already lost a lot, and she wasn't going to lose him too.

When a l'Cie, a human chosen by a fal'Cie, failed to fulfill their Focus before their brand reaches stage 13 and is fully developed, they're done for. They turn into a Cie'th monster and are forced to roam the world while wallowing in their own failure. If they did fulfill their Focus, then they'd slumber eternally as a crystal. Although Ash had heard things of crystalized l'Cie coming back to life hundreds of years later. Regardless, it seemed to be a lose-lose situation.

She thought back to Cid. And the Cavalry. His Cavalry. She had always agreed with their cause, and it would be a lie to say that she hadn't assisted them sometimes. Especially before the Purge. They were all a team back then.

Perhaps not to the point of betraying PSICOM, but she a small part of her couldn't help but wish to see them prevail. What could be better than a free Cocoon? She was sure that Yaag has caught on, but he didn't seem to say much. From what she had gathered, they were old friends. Apparently they went to school together.

Ash always liked seeing Yaag as happy as he was when he was with Cid. Well, happy was a questionable term. Cid always had a way of getting under Yaag's skin, and Ash found it somewhat entertaining. Yaag wasn't the easily flustered type, so Cid's slight teasing was always a blast in her eyes.

Cid was a l'Cie, made one by Barthandelous. Or something. The details were fuzzy. The truth had only come out recently. They all thought he was human. He must have felt terrible and filled with nothing but pure dread. He had both the power and the supplies to make his dream of a free Cocoon reality, but... He couldn't do that when he was just another slave.

"Rest well, my friend." Ash mutters, shaking her head. No use dwelling on what's done.

This is a new beginning. I need to move on.

As Ash ran through seemingly endless grand halls, she saw more and more Cie'th. "There were never this many l'Cie. Only the six... And Raines. But he's done for." She added with a sigh. "So who could all these people be? The only people tasked here were that one PSICOM elite squad..."

She gasps in horror as realization hit her.

"No..."

No, no, no, no, no... Please no...

She looks at her hands and notices how much they're trembling. She tries to steady her breathing. "The only ones with the power to do this are the fal'Cie, but they wouldn't. They wouldn't..." She tried to tell herself. But they would, and she knew that well. She just didn't want to believe it. She'd known that for so long, but this was horrific.

"Yaag... This didn't happen to him, too... Right..?"

She gulps, taking a deep breath. And let's hope that this doesn't happen to me either.

Ash turns around to keep moving, but abruptly stops upon hearing static in her PSICOM issued communication device. I thought communication lines were done for... Thank goodness.

"This is... This is PSICOM Director Rosch.." The voice rasped out, and she gasped. Yaag! He's alive!

"Attention all PSICOM and Guardian Corps units." He took a shaky breath, "Suspend l'Cie operations. I repeat, suspend l'Cie operations. All units should focus their efforts on evacuating the civilian population." He pauses.

Ash's eyes go wide at the order.

"I do not issue this order as an absolute. You are free... to make the choice." He seemed to rush the last part, as if it pained him to even speak. All she heard after that was something falling to the ground. And then more static.

"Director? Yaag? Please, come in!" She called, but nothing came through.

Shit.

~~~~~~

"Stay alive. We'll see you when it's over." Is all the blond l'Cie, (Snow Villiers, if Yaag's memory proved correct) said before leaving.

Yaag clutches his side, and he can feel the blood soaking into the black leather of his clothes. His ears rang, the pain in his head nearly unbearable. It all hurt so much. His left leg was numb. He would move it, perhaps adjust himself into a more comfortable position, but he knew that would be more than a stupid idea and would only cause him more pain.

All he could see was the pale walls of the hall, blurred and unfocused. These halls where he had walked so many times. All in the name of protecting Cocoon.

Yaag thought back to Ash. She would like it here, wouldn't she? Perhaps she wouldn't be too great a fan of Sanctum business, though. He chuckles, a bitter and raspy noise. That was always his department. She had often expressed how the military, let alone the Sanctum was not for her. Funny, considering how things ended.

He would be leaving her behind, but what could he do? He was helpless, bleeding out onto the floor of Edenhall. He drank his last potion in the battle against the l'Cie. Shockingly, they spared his life. But from his current situation, he realized that he was probably going to die anyway.

Yaag thought back to his mother and father. His father was PSICOM, through and through. Just like Yaag. His mother was Guardian Corps, but she had perished in battle when he was a teenager. He remembers the day vividly.

The rivalry between PSICOM and GC was always intense, and he had heard that his parents were no exception. His father had once spoke about how he and his wife absolutely despised each other at first. Clearly that didn't last long.

Yaag thought back to the way his father seemed to light up when speaking about his mother. "You have your mother's eyes..." A rare look for a man known for his serious demeanor. Ash had often talked about how serious and intimidating Yaag could be, too. Perhaps it ran in the family?

How did he even end up here...? He had always wanted to join PSICOM, and not just to follow in the footsteps of his hero, his father. He wanted to protect people. Ever since he was young, he had always feared the fal'Cie. Humanity was ruled by them, and it frightened him. Humans such as himself were so small and pathetic in their hands.

It made him feel less small, telling himself that he's fighting for the people rather than the fal'Cie. He remembers the words he uttered to himself before what he assumed would be his final battle. "This is for humanity. Nothing else."

The main purpose of the PSICOM division of the Sanctum military was to fight threats from Pulse. It was what they specialized in. Yaag knew that he could do all his drills in his sleep, but it turns out that it still wasn't enough.

He didn't want to stop the Pulse l'Cie. Of course, he didn't have a choice. They were a threat from Pulse, after all. So the responsibility of seeing them through to their executions fell onto his shoulders.

He felt strongly about wanting to stop them at first. It was what the people desired, but it seemed that his views had grown over time. He realized that perhaps he was on the wrong path all along. Everything he used to feel so strong about then just felt stupid now.

But all of his doubts, his slight hesitation, none of it stopped him from going through with the Purge orders. None of it stopped him from having all those civilians murdered in cold blood because of him.

A soldier's duty was to follow through with their orders regardless of what their thoughts, and he understood that. A pawn of the Sanctum, a pawn of the fal'Cie. That's all he was. All the fear he had as a boy came flooding back.

He can feel the blood trickling down his forehead. "This is... my punishment, isn't it?" He gasps for air, "Very well,"

After everything he had done, all the blood spilt under his orders, this is what he deserved. He had lived fighting for Cocoon, and would die having fought for it until the bitter end, even if it was all a lie. He knew since the very beginning that it was all fake. But he had fought for it regardless. All he did was for the people.

Or so he told himself.

He smiles. "I accept it..."

And with that, Yaag lost track of time, dizzy vision turning to black.

~~~~~

Every single one of the hallways, all once illuminated by Phoenix through large, glass ceilings, seemed to lead to one door. It was so quiet. It felt easy to ignore the absolute apocalypse happening just outside, all within the city Cocoon proudly called its finest. She looked up at the door, and then back down again. If not here, then...

By her foot is another Cie'th, but this one still seems to be alive. Barely, with it's body half crushed by a pillar, but it was reaching to her. She crouches down, gently touching the cold crystal of its body, "... You're hurting, aren't you?"

She takes a closer look at the beast, and within all the crystal was the face of a soldier, twisted and contorted with pain. She knew quite the handful of PSICOM soldiers since she was always hoping to make new friends, and found this face to be quite familiar. No...

Her heart ached, so she figured that maybe her best bet was to put it out of its misery. If she were to help it, there was nothing it could do to become human again.

All of the Cie'th bodies she had seen throughout Edenhall weren't branded. They were made Cie'th by the fal'Cie by not giving them a Focus, yet still making them l'Cie. That's cruel and disgusting. It was said that Cie'th didn't think nor feel, but she didn't think that was the case. This one seemed sad and alone.

She reaches for her blade. "I'm so sorry."

~~~~~~

Putting her blade away, she gently pushes open the doors. Small chunks of white had been floating through the air ever since the portals from Pulse had opened, but the effect seemed to be heightened as she traveled deeper within the building.

As she pushes the double-doors open, she's met with a cloud of black smoke. She coughs, but pushes through regardless. All of the rooms she had been to so far had been huge, but this one was much bigger than the rest. Intricate patterns ran across the floor, which seemed to be a bridge above the ground floor, and in the center was the ruins of a huge machine.

It was the Proudclad, Yaag's personal airship and normally his weapon of choice aside from his trusty sword. Destroyed, it was barely recognizable. The black smoke was coming from it.

Ash's eyes drift over to a body laying face-down next to it. She could recognize that black uniform from a mile away.

Before she had a chance to register her own thoughts, she was sprinting towards him. She crouches down, gently turning him around so she could see his face.

"Yaag!"

He was unconscious, his face covered in his own blood. His uniform was in tatters, pristine and dark fabric covered in dirt and grime and blood and god-knows-what.

For a moment, Ash feared that she was too late, but he was still breathing. Barely. His side was drenched in his own blood, and Ash stared at her now-red hand in horror.

"Oh my..." She was already on-edge, but seeing him like this broke her heart. What if she hadn't have found him? Then what?

Ash digs through her bag, "I know I have Phoenix Down somewhere..." She rummages through the inner pockets and triumphantly pulls out a tuft of Phoenix Down. First-aid wasn't her expertise, but hopefully she could wing it.

(Get it? Wing it?)

Perhaps Ash would have laughed if she wasn't freaking out. She holds the glowing feathers to his body, and was relieved to see that they had worked, fading into thin air. Legend had it that the feathers of a phoenix allowed a lost fall to be returned to its body, and she had thanked her past self for buying some extra from her local terminal.

In her arms, Yaag stirred. Ash let out a sigh of relief and gently brushed his bangs out of his face. She pulled out a spare cloth and began dabbing at the wound on his forehead, wiping away all the blood.

Yaag groans, silvery eyes fluttering open. "Ash?" His own voice sounded foreign to him, and all he remembered was being ready to die after a hard-fought battle against the l'Cie and even his own soldiers, now turned Cie'th.

"Yeah. You're not getting rid of me that easily." She whispers, giving him a gentle smile. He tries to push himself up into a sitting position, but he found himself clutching his side and unable to move his left leg.

"Damnit."

Ash helps him up, propping him up against the remains of his own ship.

"My... My apologies... You shouldn't have to see me like this.." He says through gritted teeth, but Ash places a finger to his lip. "Nope. None of that. I'm not taking any of it. I'm here to take care of you and get you to safety."

"You... You always have been there to save me. Thank you." Yaag whispers. It's all he can manage, and Ash leans forward, giving him a small kiss on the scar on his forehead. That had always been her favorite spot to kiss him, and even though he was barely alive, he still found his heart fluttering.

That's right. She had been there for him when he had gotten shot in Palumpolum as well. It seemed like ages ago, but it truly wasn't that long ago. So much had happened so fast.

"I'm just doing my job. Don't try to force yourself to talk, okay? You're really beat up right now." Her hands go to take off his coat, but she stops, "May I?"

Yaag nods, and she starts by unlatching all the straps that ran across his chest before undoing the buttons on the coat below, slipping it off his shoulders. She was careful to not accidentally hurt him. That was the last thing she needed right now.

His bare chest is no new sight to her. In fact, it's one of Ash's favorite sights. Firm muscle carved by endless battle experience, long-healed battle scars, the wounds from the gunshots in Palumpolum. But even so, Ash gulps at the sight of the wound on his side and the bruises running across his body. “They really did a number on you, huh?” And Yaag couldn’t help but agree.

Ash never was fond of the sight of injury, and that was made even more clear by how much her hands shook as she tended to his injuries. . Yaag shakes his head (or at least, tries to), "You don't need to. Just allow me." He tries reaching for the cloth, but his hands tremble and it pains him to even move. Pathetic...

"You are in no state to take care of yourself right now. I'll be fine. Just, uh, focus on staying awake for me, okay?" Ash pulls out a few more supplies from her bag. Not only did she try to stay prepared for any possible situation, but she had become close friends with many of Yaag's soldiers, and she knew just how dangerous their jobs could get, so she tried to carry extra healing supplies.

She starts tending to his wounds as best she can. She's not great, not by a long shot, and her constantly squirming at the sight and lack of experience only made it more difficult, but she tied a knot in the bandages she wrapped around him and buttoned his coat back up.

Yaag's vision shakes, but he tries to keep his breathing steady. Ash pulls out a flask and pops it open, holding it to Yaag's mouth. "Drink it. It's a spare potion."

Yaag nods and gulps the liquid down. He can already feel himself becoming more awake at the sweet taste. He feels guilty that she has to see him in such a pathetic state, but can't help but feel grateful nonetheless. She had saved him. Again. She truly is my everything, isn't she?

"Do you think you can walk?" She asks, and Yaag takes a look at his good leg. "I think I can manage."

"Alright. I'll be right back, okay? Gonna go grab my bike. It was a long walk here." Ash gives him a smile, and he tries to smile back for her as best he can. She runs out of the room, and comes back only a minute or two later. She's panting, but hops off of her airbike and back next to him.

Yaag attempts to push himself up from the ground, but he pathetically crumbles back down like a sack of rocks. He mentally curses himself. He couldn't afford to be this weak.

Ash wraps an arm around his shoulders, and he's thankful for the support. He's a good head taller than her, so the position was a bit awkward, but he managed to pull himself back to his feet thanks to her help.

"We're almost there, Yaag..." She says, helping him limp over to the bike. Helping him onto the seat, Ash then sits down. "You doing alright?" She asks.

The numbing of the potion had begun to wear off, and Yaag found himself unbearably tired. But he needed to stay awake. He was pretty sure his leg was broken, and clearly his left arm was not in its best state either. His head hurt. Ah, probably a concussion, He softly groans, resting his head on Ash's shoulder.

"Will be... alright. But what of my... my soldiers?"

"Really is always about work with you, huh?" She chuckles, "They're working on relocating the populace to Gran Pulse, just like you ordered."

Yaag nods.

"But you can worry about all that later. Just stay awake. Some of your - No, our - people set up a medical camp nearby." She puts her hands onto the handles of the bike and begins driving, her pace slow.

Ash can feel Yaag's gentle breathing on her neck, and she's glad. She's so glad. "I love you a lot, you know."

"... love you too." He mutters, "Was... prepared to die... Thank you."

Ash smiles. "I don't want to lose you. Ever." She stops, just feeling the weight of his body against her, his gentle breathing tickling her neck, "Save your strength though."

"Mhm..."

Ash kept driving, but she always made her to check on him every once in a while.

"...'alk to me." Yaag whispers.

"What was that, my dear? Did you say something?"

"Talk to me. I want to... hear your voice... Need to stay awake."

"Oh, of course!"

~~~~~~

Ash finishes her story about some of her school days just as they arrive at the camp. She opted for a fun-filled story instead of their current events, not wanting to overwhelm him. He chuckles. I could listen to her all day...

"Alright. We're here." Ash parks her airbike, stepping back onto the ground before reaching for Yaag, helping him down as well. He held her as support, trying to keep his weight on his good leg.

Ash clears her throat, her tone firming as she addresses the PSICOM team, "Hey, everybody." She puts the hand she wasn't using to support Yaag up, "It's Ash. I've got Director Rosch with me, and he's not looking good. Do your thing."

Yaag gives the medics a firm nod as they carry him away into a tent, and Ash watches him leave before taking a deep breath. Welp, no time to rest.

"Hey, Ash." Says one of the soldiers standing guard around the area. Monster attacks would be more frequent now that they didn't have the luxury of being protected by the fal'Cie.

"Heya!" She grins at him, grabbing one of the spare guns they kept around, "I'm going to go help some of the people near the relocation area now. Look after the Director."

"Stay safe, Ash. The Director'll rip me apart of anything happened to ya." The soldier laughed, "And he's already intimidating enough as is."

Ash chuckles, thinking back to when she first met Yaag. It was hard to even stand in his presence without feeling absolutely terrified. They’d come a long way since then.

"No kidding." After giving the soldier a friendly high-five, she turns around. "See you!"

Ash leaves to return to her trusty bike. "I'm no soldier, but it's my responsibility to help the people." She says to herself as she sits down, grabbing her keys.

Regardless of what happened, she knew that she had to do the right thing.

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 4 - Storm

When it came to the weather in Tempo, there wasn’t much difference to tell the passage of each season. All that seemed to change was the temperature in the air, and even then it didn’t fluctuate that much. What else would you expect from a desert town? At least on the plus side, it meant the people living there didn’t have too much to worry about. Maybe sandstorms? Tornadoes? Well, those were probably more likely, but so was any state practically bordering Texas, especially when going further north.

Rain came, as it always did. Wouldn’t be much vegetation if that wasn’t the case right? Even while the rain poured from the heavens, generally nothing bad ever happened. The van had good traction, so slick roads were handled. Umbrellas were always kept in the back, just on the off chance they were required, though half the time Vivi would just make a run for it.

That was a luxury Arthur couldn’t really afford. As advanced as his arm was, water was still the greatest weakness it held.

Thank goodness the others were alright with waiting for him whenever that happened.

Considering the most recent circumstances, some aspects of their dynamic began to rise back to the surface. Not all of Lewis’ temper disappeared, not that any of them expected it to. There were moments when anger tended to get the better of him, and his relationship with Arthur was still filled with annoyed looks. Sometimes even glares.

Yet despite all that, it was clear he was making an effort.

The boys could still sometimes chat like they used to, even crack a smile in one another’s direction. When effort was given, it was received in turn. Vivi found it much easier to trust the ghost, even if not fully. She could trust him with the most basic things; however, since the Mystery Skulls were back in action, she wasn’t so sure she could trust him to have their back when it counted. Frankly, she could say the same for Mystery, but he was forgiven far more easily for a couple reasons.

For one, he was actually around in the time when Lewis was not. He had been there when they needed him. For two, he hadn’t purposefully tried to kill anyone. He truly was like Arthur, holding guilt for an action of harm against another, but in the kitsune’s case, his only goal was to save their friend, not kill him.

Lewis had done that deed.

Blond man and dog had already begun to mend the wound caused by that injury, and in a way, having Mystery there helped to ease his own fears. Both of them had suffered at the hands of the same entity, and could find comfort in one another’s shared experience.

As far as Arthur himself went, he tried to be much more open with his friends, both of them. While there were still instances where he held his emotions under lock and key, or even ignored Vivi when she tried to get in contact with him, he still worked to break the habit of letting them know when something was bothering him.

Small steps.

Point being, the consideration hadn’t gone unnoticed. Rain they had down pat. It was a whole ‘nother ball game when it came to snow.

White covering the ground in Tempo, or even anywhere around Tempo for that matter, was quite rare. Rarer still was getting enough height to the point where vehicles could not drive down the road, let alone get out from where they were parked. And so that’s how the four of them were now stuck at Vivi’s place, having gone over there to discuss some cases. When the snow started coming down, no one suspected it would turn out this bad.

The temperature was already beginning to drop, the chill appearing to seep through the walls. Of course, Lewis and Mystery didn’t seem at all bothered by this fact; although, the same could not be said for Vivi and Arthur. While the former of the two often wore a sweater year round, even she could feel the difference. The latter of the two was another issue.

Arthur’s vest might have been warm, but it wasn’t exactly covering all parts of his body. He should have been smart enough to wear something a little warmer given it was the middle of winter, but old habits must truly die hard. Same could be said for the shirt he wore. At least he had pants on.

Even so, that wasn’t the most pressing problem.

None of them had taken into account how the blond’s metal arm would take to the cold, not even Arthur himself. It wasn’t like the other three knew the first thing about how it all worked. Whenever it was explained to them, it was almost like he was speaking a foreign language. All they could do was nod their heads, as if they were following along with absolute clarity.

Arthur was another matter.

He couldn’t help but kick himself mentally for this oversight. He should have known better. Was it for the lack of a real ‘winter cold?’ Was it truly just something he forgot about? He knew heat had an effect on the arm, so why wouldn’t the cold? Great, now he was going to have to figure out a solution for this. As if he didn’t already have enough ‘arm upgrade projects’ to juggle around.

For now, it didn’t seem like the limb was bothering him that much. Sure, it felt colder than usual, but as long as the heater in the Yukino home was running, there was nothing to worry about.

As if God himself had been listening to the blond’s thoughts, that was the moment when the power decided to flicker out.

Just great.

It had long since been deemed unsafe for any of them to try and make their way home with the storm hitting this hard, but now that decision was definitive. No member of the Yukino family thought it wise to try sending those boys out on their own, most of all Vivi. Arthur made sure to call his uncle to let him know where he was before passing the phone to Lewis. The ghost seemed to give a look of confusion.

The blond just seemed to tilt his head back, “Aren’t you going to call your family?”

Eyes narrowed. Oh that wasn’t a good sign. He began to hand the phone back, “Arthur you know I ca-”

He was cut off by the blond motioning to Vivi’s family. Of course, what would they think if he didn’t at least inform them of his whereabouts? He’d been purposefully avoiding them, and it was a wonder that not only had the two families not already informed the Peppers about their son’s return to Tempo, but also the passersby who knew him.

Maybe it was the sunglasses? Maybe it was the suit he would sometimes be wearing rather than his normal outfit? Or maybe they already knew and were giving him space? Regardless, he had to play his part. Stepping to the side, he ‘called’ his family.

Then he finally gave the phone back.

Day dragged into night.

The Yukinos were kind, providing a meal for the boys stuck hunkering down in their home. They were important to Vivi. Lewis did his best sneaking food to the other three, making it look like he was eating what was provided to them. It seemed to work for the most part.

When the darkness became too much, the collective deemed it was time for bed. With any luck, the storm should pass through the night, then it was a matter of waiting for the roads to clear. With the four of them working together, they could surely dig the van out enough to allow Arthur to return to Kingsmen Mechanics.

Lewis could just return to his mansion under the cloak of invisibility.

Arthur insisted the ghost stay with Vivi in her room while he took the couch. He couldn’t very well kick the Yukinos out of their respective rooms, and as far as any of them were aware, the bluenette and ghost were still dating. It only made sense they would want to share a room. All about keeping the act up. He would be fine on the couch. Sure wouldn’t be the first time.

When the duo finally agreed, they slipped off in the darkness of the home. Arthur stood in place until he heard the sound of the door shutting.

The blond exhaled the breath he had been holding in, feeling relief wash off him. Talking to Lewis was indeed getting easier, but even the smallest disagreements, or plans he disagreed with could lead to that temper rearing its ugly head. He was overjoyed nothing bad happened this time.

 After lowering himself to the couch, he worked to remove his vest and shirt, a task that normally wouldn’t seem like the chore it was now. Where metal connected to skin had begun to feel numb hours ago. It was another case of keeping something to himself rather than worry his friends. Guess the mindset of “I can totally handle this for the rest of the day” came back to bite him in the ass. Well, the sooner he got it off now, the better.

First, he tied a knot in the left sleeve of the shirt.

Arthur rested the arm against the coffee table in front of him, then slipped the shirt back on. With a lack of any other garments to change into, he was left to sleep in the same clothes he wore during the day. He couldn’t dress down for the fear of freezing, and the pants would give him some warmth. At least he also had a blanket.

Too bad it could only warm him up so much.

He mentally cursed every home that didn’t have a fireplace.

The removal of his metal limb had helped, but just barely. The end of his shoulder still felt numb, and whenever there was a feeling, it was tight. It was like the muscles tensed, and could not relax themselves, creating a less than favorable combination of discomfort. Would he even be able to get to sleep were it not for the freezing temperatures?

Arthur wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt a sudden weight near his legs. That had to be Mystery, coming to help warm him up. As considerate as the kitsune was in this gesture, there was little he would truly be able to do. A giant fox with multiple tails wasn’t exactly hiding in plain sight as a dog if he took on his true form to offer the blond more warmth. A small whine echoed from the other end of the couch, earning a whisper from the man, “I know… t-thanks a-anyw-way Mystery.”

Damn the slight stutter from the cold.

Guess he should be happy his teeth weren’t joining in with it.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed this time before he saw a small light hovering above him. Did someone light a candle or something? Maybe he could huddle close to it, or at least his shoulder could. When tired eyes brought the room into some semblance of order, he could see it wasn’t a candle, but rather the flaming pompadour on top of a floating skull. What was he doing out here? Wait, was he having some kind of dream, or nightmare, and he wasn’t aware of it? That would make sense.

Lewis was probably here to finish the job.

His body trembled, not simply from the lack of heat. He never was good at hiding how scared he became, especially when it came to their otherworldly friend. Part of him just wanted the ghost to get it over with, rather than drag this out longer than it needed to.

He reached out towards Arthur.

Arms wrapped around him.

The blond felt himself being lifted from the couch.

Resting in Lewis’ arms.

Floating down the hall....

Stopping in front of Vivi’s bedroom door…

Wait… wait a minute… What was going on?

Lewis adjusted his hold on Arthur, twisting the knob to open the door, the squeaking of wood echoing from his attempt to create as little noise as possible. Once the three of them were in the room, because of course Mystery followed them, the door was shut once again. The blond couldn’t take it anymore, whispering up at his captor, “Lewis, what’s going on?”

The ghost said nothing.

Just dropped him down on the other side of Vivi’s bed. Were it not for the ghost quickly laying the pulled sheets and blankets over him, Arthur was sure he would have sprung right back out. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here.

“Lewis wha-”

“Hush Arthur. Get some sleep.”

“But-”

Lewis placed a finger against the blond’s lips, floating over him. There wasn’t much space between him and Vivi, yet Lewis somehow found a way to snuggly fit. He could feel Mystery hop onto the bed, body pressed against his legs. Where he once felt cold, a warm seemed to wash over him; although, he couldn’t tell if that was from Lewis’ unnatural heat, or the comfort of his friends.

Finally, he found his eyes closing, sleep taking him to escape the storm.

[laureviewer]

Dragons Quest XI: Echoes of an Elusive Age—A Review

WARNING: (not full) spoilers below.

‘We did it darliiiings!’

That’s what I cried, a-la the Great Sylvando, once I finished this game. 112 hours in, and all the way through it showed no signs of slowing. Which, for a shameless JRPG-lover like myself, is exactly what I want in a game. Hours and hours of combat, exploration through stunning scenery, empathetic and deep characters and, most importantly, a completely immersive and entertaining story that I can’t wait to see the climax—but, crucially, I can.

The Chosen One

The story begins in Erdrea, where monsters have invaded the fantastical world—why, we’re not quite sure. All we know, as the infant protagonist, is that we are found washed up on the riverbank by a kindly old man named Chalky, who takes us to his village and gives us to our adoptive mother, Amber.

And, guess what? He’s the Chosen One—the Luminary. You’d have thought our hero would have realised something was different about him with the presence of a very specific birthmark tattooed on the back of his hand, but he and his childhood friend Gemma do come from a sheltered town with very little knowledge of the outside world, after all. True to form for a lot of adventure games, he’s the only one who can save the world. After finding this out in a coming-of-age ceremony a few years later, Amber tells him to go to King Carnelian of Heliodor, who is sure to help him understand what all this means. Right?

If our silent protagonist could talk, this is where he would be screaming, ‘I’m not the Darkspawn!’ as King Carnelian throws him in the dungeon. But thank Yggdrasil he did, or we wouldn’t meet our first companion in our band of loveable misfits.

The Power of Friendship

I’m still unsure why, after so many hours of gameplay, why Erik endears himself the most to me, but he does. Sure, he’s the first one you meet, and you team up to escape the dungeon (running from a giant dragon along the way!), but he’s also a dishonest thief. Throughout the game, you never quite know if he’s in it for himself or to help you save the world. I’ve concluded that he’s actually doing it for you, and your budding bromance…or, at least, that’s my own head cannon. He’s misunderstood. His cutting sarcasm is welcome in a story of overly keen optimists (see: Sylvando). And he’s who the hero seems to look at whenever there’s a sweet, sentimental moment in the story, cementing their true friendship.

Or, maybe it’s because Akira Toriyama drew these characters, and his colourful hair and spunky attitude remind me of my childhood DBZ crush, Trunks. Either way, I’m Team Erik, with his knife-wielding, quick-thinking style of fighting, all the way. My only gripe is that his damage wasn’t that great for me until endgame, unfortunately.

Even though we don’t meet Sylvando until later, it seems that my mind demands he be the next to discuss—much like Sylvando demands much of the attention within the game. We first meet him at the circus, where he is a beloved performer. His quest is to make the people of the world smile—a noble endeavour in a world where the Dark One is coming to rid the world of happiness for good. He is the absolute epitome of flamboyance: he calls your band of companions ‘darlings’; he has a half-naked ship captain with bulging muscles and a pink face mask called Dave, of all things; and he even leads a peacock-feathered parade at a certain point in the game, which the hero must cheerily join in, feathers and sassy sway absolutely necessary.

And yet, he doesn’t simply function as comic relief. He is brave, charming, sympathetic, and quite often the heart of the group. He is always the one to ask if a character is okay, or if they need help, and has conviction that only Henrik, our resident knight in shining armour, would rival. Plus, he’s fantastic with a whip (because of course he is) and has some fabulous healing moves that have saved me more than once in a tough fight. The group would be nothing without Sylvando—and he absolutely knows it!

Veronica & Serena serve as our other characters who are bound by destiny. They are Keepers, born to protect aid the Luminary on his quest. As twins, you’d expect them to look the same…but, after an encounter with monsters, Veronica was turned into a child, and is stuck that way. As an offensive mage who hates being treated like a child, she serves as the brash one of the group, quick to anger, much like her fiery spells.

Serena, on the other hand, serves as the yin to Veronica’s yang. She is temperate and always willing to help, if somewhat hapless. The primary healer of the group, she excels in restorative and defensive magic, and has a harp to while away the less hopeful days. As a pair, these two are steadfast, loyal, and…to be honest, aren’t much more interesting than that, unless Veronica is being goaded into an argument.

Until the later game, anyway. I won’t spoil that here, but will just say I underestimated both their spell casting abilities and their importance in the story. 

You know how the hero is the Chosen One, the Luminary and the absolute saviour of the world? Well, he also happens to be a Prince of Dundrasil. Had the fates been kinder, he might have been brought up in a huge castle, with loving royal family around to raise and guide him.

Rab, a fierce, playful and wise old man (with a banging Scottish accent) is ready to heal, attack with offensive magic, and guide our hero around the expansive world. And, as we find out after defeating him and his sexy companion in a battle competition in Octagonia (see: Jade), he is also grandfather to our hero, and thus a Lord of Dundrasil himself. He may seem old, but not only does he have royal blood, but he is a capable spell-caster and martial artist, making it apparent that he is one of the most capable companions in the game. If I were to ask anyone for advice, knowing that he would neither mince his words nor omit anything important, I would go to Rab.

You know what any game directed at kids needs? That’s right, a sexy warrior princess that you can stick in a bunny costume for most of the game. Even if you choose not to do that, her combat outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Thankfully, Jade isn’t just eye-candy. She has far more going for her. She’s a Princess of Heliodor, the hero’s childhood companion who lost him as a baby. She just wants to find him, her younger brother figure (sadly), and help him fulfil his destiny. Plus, as a battle and spear fighter, she has some of the strongest moves in the game—albeit mostly from her sexy, love-based moves such as ‘Hip Thrust’ and ‘Sexy Beam’, only comparable with Sylvando’s equally as sexy and flamboyant ‘Lashings of Love’ and ‘That’s Amore’ moves. She’s a badass bitch who takes no crap from lovestruck men or monsters.

Though, she has her very own Princess Leia moment, where she is captured by a horrific, giant, evil and ugly monster and made to wear a sexy outfit (hey, there’s that bunny girl outfit again). It is heavily implied she has been under his mind control, and that he’s been having his ‘wicked way’ with her. Good thing she comes out of it with sexy vampire powers, isn’t it?

HEAVY SPOILERS NOW. I warn you, don’t go any further if you care about that kind of thing.

Our final companion is one who doesn’t show up until late game. Sir Henrik, a Knight of Heliodor, is the hero we all need. He defends his ruler to the last (which, spoiler alert, nearly ended up being his fatal flaw), is willing to sacrifice himself for the good of all, and defends the weak: a true knight, with chivalry, bravery, and total care for all others. It’s a shame he hated the hero for the first half of the game, really.

But do I care about that? No, I care that his greatsword abilities make him an absolute tank. On a one-on-one fight, I needed him front and centre of every battle just for his incredible damage output. Against multiple enemies, he is less useful, but with his supplementary healing and defence skills, he isn’t just an attacker, but a true defender of the people to the last.  

Calm it with the Combat

My god, this game has a lot of battles. While that’s expected for a turn-based JRPG, and there were a lot, unlike others such as Pokémon, you can choose which battles to avoid as the figures traverse the overworld. This is useful in such a slow-burning game, and also helps you find the monsters you want—again, a definite improvement on the way Pokémon works, as it saves you having to fight hundreds of creatures you don’t want to find the ones with the best EXP.

A notable exception to this is when you have to find and defeat a rare monster for a quest, which don’t traverse the overworld. This means you have to fight potentially hundreds of more common monsters to find the one you want, which can be frustrating, especially as it is all done on chance and not on how many you have defeated. While you can increase your chances with various items or equipment, it still adds a frustrating amount of time to an already long game.

Another vague annoyance is how much harder the game gets post-game. I actually did not have an issue with this, as a friend told me how to farm the elusive and high-EXP metal slimes using a particular Hero-Erik-Jade Pep Power and so I could use this ability throughout post-game. However, for those not in the know, the potentially grinding at the end of the game may put some people off finishing an already saturated game.

What I loved about the combat was how it kept getting harder and harder. I never worried about over-levelling (as said above, I was more worried about being under levelled) and that meant I could do what I do best: do all side-quests before the end of the main story. In other JRPGs, the completionist in me has always made me want to do all side-quests, but this has meant the final boss has been underwhelming and easier than it should be.

The variation of powers and attacks was also really interesting. You can spec into different forms of fighting for each character—I went for Swords with the hero, Whips for Sylvando, Boomerangs with Erik (after using Daggers for most of the game), Heavy Wands for Rab and Veronica, Wands for Serena, Spears for Jade, and Greatswords for Henrik—and this makes all the combinations of them in the party very cool. I normally just controlled the hero during the fights and let the others fight wisely, unless there was a specific quest to fulfil or a particularly hard boss. Not only did this speed up combat, but it also helped me to learn which of their moves were the most effective against which monsters automatically and quickly, which was easier than picking moves and trying them out myself. It’s easy, with enough gold, to respec if you like, and this I’m sure could make the game fee different every time if you wanted to play with different specs.

Pep powers were also a lot of fun. While it was sometimes annoying waiting for some or all of the characters to pep up and therefore use these moves that combine different characters’ moves for ‘Ultimate’ attacks, they provided fun cutscenes and made the battles more interesting. Plus, they reminded me a lot of DBZ moves, especially the epic ones with the hero and Rab!

Top tip: you can swap out characters and they will keep their pepped-up status. I wish I’d known about that a lot earlier!

The monster designs are great, as per usual Akira Toriyama style. There are lots of different kinds, from slimes, to mechs, to really weird ones like the kissy lip monster and the Bongo Drongos. The bosses are also amazing. Just all the character designs, from human to monster, to anything else. I see a lot of DBZ in all of them, which is fantastic.

You know what? Here’s some pictures. You’re welcome.

Mini Games & Challenges: Hey, I actually want to do these!

I often have issues with mini games, as sometimes they are so different from the main game that I just don’t want to spend time playing them. Gwent in another of my favourite games, The Witcher 3 is a good example: I never really learnt the rules, which I’m sure would have helped, but it was so detached from the main game I just didn’t care. Plus, it had no effect on the story or game at large, so what was the point?

In DQ11, sure, you don’t need to rack up 500,000 casino tokens in poker or the slots to buy better gear. You don’t have to finish first in all five Gallopolis horse races. Forging items isn’t totally needed to advance the game. It’s not necessary to win all five rounds of the Wheel of Harma in a certain number of moves (though this is much more like the rest of the game than the other mini games). But I did all of these, and it was great fun. It’s what’s helped make the game such a time suck (especially the casino) but I never felt like they were a chore.

Apart from the crossbow bullseyes. I did none of them as apparently I only noticed about three out of however many there are. They can suck my Sword of Light.  

 What’s a good JRPG without me questioning the point of life after it’s over?

JRPGs do it best—fight me.

The story of DQ11 is immersive, interesting, intricate and, at times, incredibly heart-breaking. Following the hero and his friends for over 100 hours really means you get to dive into their adventure, and more so, their relationships. You truly believe why they have chosen to follow each other into danger, to protect each other as well as the world. Sure, he’s the Luminary, so Serena & Veronica, the Luminary’s guides, at least have a reason to follow him to the end. The fact he’s the Luminary at may mean the characters have more faith in him than they would anyone else without lightning powers. But, even without that, you get the impression that they trust him for his innocent and yet resolute determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost.

The NPCs in the game also provide variety and are a lot of fun. There’s a lovesick mermaid, a brilliantly incompetent prince, two brothers in Laguna di Gondolia who are trying to sell the same things to you for different prices, and Silvando’s Smile Brigade, to name just a few. Their backstories, personalities and current stories all bring life to a game already chock full of it, and makes even simple fetch quests interesting and well worth doing, if you value a good story like I do. These little touches explain why the game clocks in at well over 100+ hours, but at the same time gives true justification to why that is. It’s the difference between a boring game, and one I loved to turn on and just relax of an evening. I might not have done all that much in three hours, but I still enjoyed every minute.

With everything considered, I will remember DQ11 fondly as one of my favourite JRPGs to date. The storyline, characters, combat and score are all fantastic and makes me wish I played the older games. Thank you, Dragon Quest, for giving me 112 hours of fun. 

[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Discord Party Titles Game

For this game, we took turns suggesting a title, and we all pitched our idea for what we might write for it.

Rebelmeg - lock and key

@dreaminglypeach - Bucky finds a fluffy pink diary with a padlock on it, and sets off on a mission to find out who it belongs to. A choose your own adventure, of course

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bucky finds a key hidden under a carpet in Avengers Mansion. He wants to find what it unlocks.

@rebelmeg - soulmates au. Bucky and his significant other, even if they haven't yet met, have an extremely synced-up bond in which they feel an echo of each other's experiences and feelings.

MagicaDraconia16 - It was just a mispronunciation, he was drunk and tired, okay, and he happened to say "key" instead of "'kay". Now the others won't stop calling him the Lock to [character]'s Key…

@lbibliophile-mcu - Mixing up the tone, I'm going to take this super angsty: When Hydra was turning Bucky into the Winter Soldier, they kept running into problems with his memories of Steve. Eventually they decided to use it instead. They show Bucky proof of Steve's death, and twist that to the point where forgetting who he is is less painful than remembering Steve. That's why Steve being alive was able to break through the conditioning: Steve is both the lock and key to Bucky's memories

@lbibliophile-mcu - "Nope. Not Moving. Can't make me."

@rebelmeg - Bucky has found a Nap Spot. it's very important. He's warm and comfortable. he's got a fuzzy blanket. He's nice and drowsy. And then... then Steve and Sam come in, all raring to go and wanting to take him on a run. Bucky is not having this nonsense.

MagicaDraconia16 - Bucky, taken by car to some place he doesn't want to visit, now he's sitting in the car, arms folded, sulking.

@lbibliophile-mcu - It's Avengers movie night. Bucky got to the lounge early, and is wrapped in a pile of blankets, sprawled across the couch. The others filter in and take their seats. Finally Steve comes in and passes out the popcorn then tries to share Bucky's couch, but he refuses to move. So Steve stis on top of him. Bucky flails around a bit, and eventually manages to kick Steve out of the way enough that he can put his legs in Steve's lap, rather than under him

@rebelmeg - omg. alpine. alpine stole Bucky's favorite seat on the couch, and will not be moved. digging those claws in and growling and hissing and freaking out

@dreaminglypeach - Tiny Steve being petulant and refusing to stay out of trouble, and Bucky just picking him up and carrying him off like a sack of potatoes.

An angry, hitty sack of potatoes

@lbibliophile-mcu - different variation: Bucky sparing with probably Tony. It ends with Tony lying flat on the mat (I can't decide if face-down or on his back is funnier) refusing to move, while Bucky is pestering him to at least get up and stretch so he doesn't regret it the next day

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bucky should get out of bed but it's cold and he's so warm and comfortable is it really that big of an emergency that he needs to move?

@lbibliophile-mcu - That is a mood

@dreaminglypeach - Me every morning

@rebelmeg - "Bucky, we gotta go, people are in danger!"

Bucky, peering over the top of three quilts with a fluffy ear hat on his head: "let them perish."

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Frost advisory, why must I go out in a frost advisory

@dreaminglypeach​ - “They got themselves into danger, they can get themselves back out again”

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - "Why are they out in the cold anyway?"

@rebelmeg - "what kind of a supervillain wreaks havoc during a frost advisory?" the lump under the blankets asks grumpily.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - "Steve, you of all people should get why we don't hero in an effen frost advisory"

@rebelmeg​ - "Bucky, you're being ridiculous." 

*three pillows hit him in the face*

 "....before you leave, bring those back to me."

@lbibliophile-mcu​ - "Fine, I suppose you can be excused. But you gotta at least let [insert other Avenger significant other - Clint?] go. It's their actual job." "No. My warm snuggly." "Bucky..."

@rebelmeg​ - alpine meows under the covers contentedly

@ladydarkphoenix-blog​ - One more additional thought. Natasha comes in and drags everyone out being all menacing ans typical Nat

“Mystery Pizza” - @dreaminglypeach​

@rebelmeg​ - Bucky is.... 94% sure this is a prank. surely no food is supposed to be this alarming shade of blue. the thing is... it tastes amazing. like, best thing ever. best pizza he's ever had. it's the perfect sauce to cheese to crust ratio. He's not entirely sure what the purple things are, or why the cheese is neon yellow, but. oh well. He can just close his eyes.

MagicaDraconia16 - It's late, it's dark, Clint gets hungry and goes looking for leftovers. He finds a couple of slices of pizza that is delicious, but when he later asks whose it was and what flavour did they get (because he's never tasted that before), no-one knows anything about it.

@dreaminglypeach​ - “Clint… that wasn’t pizza.”

@lbibliophile-mcu - Ooh, insomnia/post-nightmare tradition. Show up in the kitchen in the middle of the night, pull out a pizza base, then proceed to pile a random selection on ingredients on top. Sometimes savoury, sometimes sweet (sometimes both). Sometimes ingredients are just dumped in the middle, sometimes they're finely chopped (almost minced) and evenly spread, sometimes they're carefully arranged in wedges by colour. Sometimes the results are inedible, sometimes they are surprisingly tasty. At any rate, but the time the pizza is assembled, cooked and eaten/disposed of, they usually feel much more relaxed. Multiple Avengers needing Mystery Midnight Pizzas can turn into either a cooperative or competitive event

“The Sunken Ship” - @themadhalewrites

@rebelmeg - Bucky has been a pirate captain for several years now, on the ship he confiscated from his old captors, the hydra crew. The rechristened sea wolf has a new mission now: undoing the work hydra did, with its crew of willing mates that follow Bucky wherever the compass leads them.

@lbibliophile-mcu​ - Someone is trying to get two of their friends to date. They'd be really cute together! They like the same things! They'd be perfect for each other! They keep trying to set them up on dates, and they're... sort of successful? The friends have an instant connection, and seem to have fun and enjoy each other's company. But there's a decided lack of kissing or anything else romantic going on. Eventually they find out that the friends had previously dated, and decided they were better as just close friends. They're decidedly miffed that they hadn't known about this before trying to set them up.

@themadhalewrites - The title made me think of someone comforting Bucky after binge watching a show and the two characters he was hoping got together get with other people.

@lbibliophile-mcu - It would be a good title for a mer-AU as well

@themadhalewrites - Or a treasure hunter au

Stay tuned for the Scavenger Hunt art we found that features Bucky wearing Halloween costumes!

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows XVII

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Say what now?" Tony rocked back and forth on his heels to his toes, growing impatient.

Fury slid the file towards him on his desk, "I need you to look for any weak spots on these machines so we can take them down easily on your next mission."

Tony visibly clenched and released his fists, trying to stay calm, "And what happened to looking for Y/n?"

Fury took a deep breath, knowing this was going to get messy, "I'm sorry, but it's been too long with no leads. That can't be our main focus anymore, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

"So you're just going to give up on her?!"

"No, Tony, but we have to accept that we might not find her. We have missions that we need executing and oh I don't know, taking down Hydra!"

Tony's face started to turn red, "All these people!" He pointed towards where Shield agents were working just down the hall, "are just expendable to you aren't they!? All just little pawns ready to be sacrificed for your little game!"

Fury slammed his hands on the desk, "I cared about her too Tony!" The room became eerily quiet, the only sound was heavy breathing. "She was a good agent, I just can't put all of my resources into finding her anymore."

Tony rubbed his face in his hand while nodding his head in understanding. He took a couple of steps towards the desk and slid the file into his hand. He said in a whisper, "I'll look this over, get it back to you soon as I can..." He turned back towards the door, head slightly bowed.

"Tony."

"Yes?" He didn't turn around, only tilting his head towards the director.

Fury opened a drawer, "It-- It's been checked for sensitive Shield information, so if you want to keep it for her..." He gently placed a phone on the desk, making sure to give Tony his space.

Tony turned back around slowly, eyes flickering from the phone to Fury who took a step back. He picked it up gently and gave it a quick once over. The case was worn, well used. There was a crack or two in the glass screen protector, but the phone itself was in good condition. He sucked his teeth for a moment before patting his hand and pointing at Fury with the phone. He didn't say anything, but neither of them needed to. He exited the office and closed the door behind him.

Once Fury was alone he sat heavily in his chair. He didn't know what he was going to do with them. They were already hard to keep under wraps but trying to get them to work now was going to be a nightmare. Fury wasn't sure if he should be glad that he got Tony done early on. He was sure the most vocal, but the others can be challenging in entirely worse and different ways. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eye, it was going to be a hard couple of weeks and Fury needed all the rest he could get.

The file stared at Tony, the metal shavings and oil residue leaving stains around the corners. He really should be working on it, but instead, the lovingly used smartphone in his hand was occupying his mind. He didn't know exactly what to do, even if he acted like it. If there was one thing he did know, however, it was technology. Tony made sure he had Jarvis back up all the information, the notes, the pictures, the music that she lived by.

Tony tried multiple times to open the file to review it, but he found himself picking up the smartphone again and again. He was puzzled at first as he was sure she had a passcode to keep us, snoopy people, out, but she didn't have one when Fury passed it over. Not that it would make much of a difference since both Tony and Natasha were skilled at hacking with Clint having somewhat of a hand for it. Tony wasn't sure what Loki's abilities were, but he wouldn't put it past him. The rest of the team didn't have the technical ability or desire to pry... on Y/n at least. He came to the conclusion that since Shield looked through it they took the passcode off.

He kept flipping through somewhat familiar pictures and smiling at the old songs.

He wasn't the only one who wasn't moving on from the loss.

Natasha kept hacking into Shield and into the compound. She found all the security tapes with Y/n on them. Both Tony and Fury knew about it, but once they saw what she was looking at they let her be. She kept watching the footage, sometimes freezing the frame to see her smiling face, other times watching some of the happy moments together over and over again. Tony sometimes joined her. Not in person, but he would tap into her hacking session and watch what memories she would dig up. She was rarely alone while watching the recordings. Clint would join her. They sat in silence, hearts aching in tune, what would have happened if they had never dragged her into their missions? What if they were never friends in the first place? Fortunately, or maybe less so, they knew they couldn't turn back time, and loss was not new to them. With how long she had been gone, all they could do was hope she was dead, or if she wasn't, that she hasn't been suffering.

Thor was having a hard time wrapping his head around how to cope. He knew she was gone, but his concept of loss seemed different than the others. Maybe it was because he was a god and he perceived time differently. Maybe he came to peace with it more easily, honor, bravery, a true warrior, all that jazz. Or maybe he just had more time and experience to learn to hide it better. Despite his jovial exterior, most seemed to forget that he was from outside of human understanding.

Bruce buried himself in his work. He didn't want to talk to anyone, and if he did talk about Y/n everyone noticed an unnatural color rising up his neck. She was always kind to him, even if they were on a different page most of the time. He would have to leave the compound more often then he used to, get some fresh air. Tony didn't comment or complain when Bruce requested a jet to take him to a deserted wasteland. Sometimes it's best to just let it out and heaven knows the consequences to him bottling up the tension.

Steve never claimed to be close to her. He never claimed to be coping either. He hid behind his veteran demeanor, his captain mask. Steve tried to fall into his formal numbness, going to his go-to, "she was a good soldier." That was, at least, until Tony snarled at him, "We are not soldiers!"

Loki made sure to tread carefully. He knew first hand how much she meant to the rest of them and the means they would go to defend her. He mellowed down the snark and even most of his presence for a while. He was well aware of how much he grated on the others. The rest of the team didn't look any closer at his behavior and just let him be. Loki wasn't sure if he was grateful for that or not.

They all hit a little harder, ran a little faster, and worked a little longer. Caution was thrown to the wind, while also being increased ten-fold. Every camera was double, triple checked to be operational. Battles started to look more bloody, more messy, but oh so more satisfying. Backs were covered like an ironclad, but their own defenses had holes.

They knew it couldn't last forever, wouldn't last forever. They had to move on. This wasn't the first time they had lost someone, far from it. They also knew it was going to be far from the last time. For now, they took pleasure in beating, bruising, breaking, cutting, killing, bleeding. They used their anger for a little chaotic good.

The faint click and sliding sound of the shop door opening caused Tony to raise his head. He finally opened the file and started to review it, but the phone was sitting delicately under his fingertips on the bench.

Loki walked in, his footsteps light, but his shoulders not so much. The tension grew in the room, both men could feel it. Both knew that something better be apocalyptic for Loki to disturb Tony. And that was usually the only time Loki even tried.

"What do you want?" Tony was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially when he noticed the submissive body language that was so much different than when he usually saw him, but after the meeting with Fury and the stirred emotions of looking through the phone, Loki was standing on thin ice.

Loki started picking at his palm, "I- I heard Fury allowed you to possess Y/n's phone."

"Yes?" There was no reason for Tony to be angry, yet, but everything was grating on his nerves anyway.

Loki could hear the strain in Tony's voice and how he was trying to hold back. He tried to not be bothersome, but there was nothing Loki could do better. His eyes found their way to the phone just under Tony's fingers and he gestured a hand towards it, "May I?"

"Why do you care?! Are you going to break it like you almost broke her, huh?!" Tony exploded, his voice echoed around the machinery making his loud voice sound even louder. Tony wasn't sure why he brought it up. They had all gotten past it. No one really held a grudge from it anymore. Tony tried to reel himself in, but it wasn't working very well. He felt his throat clench and his eyes started to sting. He didn't say anything else for fear of what would slip out.

Tony didn't notice that Loki was slouching slightly until he straightened himself. His submissive demeanor faded, but he didn't turn aggressive, yet. "Y/n defended me when she had the power to leave me be and get injured, maybe die. I had yet to repay that debt. She was kind to me despite what I did to her. I understand your emotional state is tender at the moment. My apologies, I will take my leave." He silently turned around and began to head for the door.

Tony swallowed both his emotions and his pride, "No, wait, Loki."

Loki turned to the side so he could converse with Tony.

"I... I'm sorry," he nodded his head to himself, not sure what else to say. He tapped the phone screen gently with one of his fingers, thinking. After a couple of seconds, he picked it up from off the table, he held it out to Loki, "Here, take it."

Loki hesitated for a moment, that soft body language returned when he carefully took the phone from Tony's hand. He looked it over slowly, holding it with both hands. He turned the phone on and noticed there was no password. His eyes flashed with a bit of confusion, but then softened when he was able to see what apps she had. Loki's finger hovered above the music app when he came to it. He looked back up at Tony who was watching him curiously, "She liked her music, did she not?"

Tony let out a huff, "Yeah, I guess she did."

Loki nodded distractedly. He didn't say anything else before exiting the room just as quietly as he entered.

Tony puffed his cheeks and slowly let out a big breath while releasing the tension in his body. He looked at the clean rectangle on the table where the phone once rested. He sighed and attempted to focus on the file that he got from Fury but with Loki's visit his mind returned to Y/n.

"Jarvis, double your efforts on searching for Y/n. I want you looking at everything, especially any Hydra communication we have access to. We have to pick up Shield's slack."

"Of course sir."

TAG LIST: 

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: I had some time, am back home, and figured I’d just start reposting back from the beginning. I wanted to start with something that I haven’t seen in ages. Something that’s more personal to me. Edit and change it as I post. Because I’m in a far different place than I was three years ago, and I hope it shows this time around. So...I hope you enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Upcoming Warnings: Show level violence. Mentions of childhood trauma/sexual abuse sprinkled in (not super detailed. I do have my limits). Smut. A lot of detailed smut. Kidnapping. Near death experiences. Etc. Individual chapters will have different warnings. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: Roughly 3,500

“Could you get anymore annoying?”

“Sure.” You smirked broadly, eyeing up the competition with nothing short of arrogance. “I could be just like you.” That made Sam clench his jaw, and eyes flash dark. A reaction that showed just how much you were getting to him without even trying.

“Why do you keep her around?” Sam turned to his brother at the table, clearly attempting to hold back as much of his rage as he could manage. His knuckles were white against his skin while gripping his fork. Face carrying just a hint of red in his cheeks that pulled in tight. Revealing twin sets of unimpressed dimples. You couldn't help but to ponder what his blood pressure was. Definitely on the higher end.

He'd been in a mood from the moment he walked into the bunker, according to Dean. Sam had been 'perfectly fine' before then. It's probably because I was the first thing he'd spotted when he'd opened the door.

You two had been verbally sparring ever since. Nothing new. Your heart beat a little too fast from it all. Maybe I should check my B.P. while I'm at it.

“The entertainment value alone is worth it.” Dean grinned broadly at his brother. Drawing you back to the dinner time conversation. “She's the only one I've seen you really lose your temper with, Sammy. Plus, she's a mean cook.” He took a larger than life bite of chicken to emphasize his point. A grunt of approval was released while his eyes closed in bliss. “We can't cook like this. We'd be back to take out nonstop if she left, or I'd have to take up the mantle. And that...” Another giant piece of meat was shoved into his mouth, “That just feels like a crime.”

“I'd play humble, but I agree. I did knock it out of the park tonight.” You moaned out after a bite of your own. Noting the way the younger brother's eye twitched in response. “Plus, I'm a great maid. And am great at sorting through that mess called a file room when you're done with it. I could go on for hours, but you're already looking a little green, Sammy. I'd hate to see the food I worked so hard on go to waste.”

The flush darkened from your never ending sass, or the 'Sammy' usage. Either way, it was working. He was coming unhinged. His scowl got deeper as he shoveled his food into his mouth, eager to flee from your presence.

Whether he liked it or not, you really had assisted in making their lives easier in multiple retrospects; including the home cooked meals- something they rarely had before you joined the gang. And as a result of your ability to coexist with his boar of a brother, Sam was stuck with you. For life, the way things were going.

You had learned to appreciate getting under the younger Winchester's skin to some degree, and fought back another grin of triumph. Of course, he happened to see your lip twitch in amusement; forcing his glower to deepen further. It really was too easy most times.

It had begun the very first moment you two had met. You'd been a bit of a klutz that day; dumping coffee on his lap before you could even say hi. Tripping over your feet from the anxiety.

Dean had made the introductions while Sam suppressed his annoyance; attempting to not chew you out right from the start. You'd sat in embarrassment, trying not to cower from his dark looks. From there, the tension only got worse until it was clear he despised you even to poor- typically clueless- Castiel.

Unfortunately for Sam, you and his older brother had become close before you'd ever met him. Even if you had been useless to their lives, Dean would have kept you around out of nothing more than emotional attachment. Poor Sammy had no choice but to suck up your presence in the bunker as a result. Only getting a reprieve when him and Dean left for a hunt, or he went out solo.

At first you'd tried. Really tried. You'd even talked to Dean about ways to get his younger brother to warm up to you. You hated the tension and awkwardness that Sam seemed to feed off of. Nothing worked. If anything, every shy overture increased the hostility. Eventually, you had just given up. Dean had gone to the bat, determined to assist until he saw you start to give it as good as you got it. Then, he decided to step back and enjoy the show.

And what a show it was. For just over two years, war waged in the bunker. You didn't return Sam's deep hatred, but you certainly weren't above rising up to it. For every barb thrown your way, you returned one. More if the circumstances were right. And often, they were more than right.

At first, Sam had been surprised when you'd rebelled. It was enough to give you some peace for a few weeks, even. Giving you space as he processed the change. Then, he'd adapted to the new attitude. Finally finding someone he could take whatever was wrong in his life out on.

Over time, it became almost like a game between you two. Who could take the most heat? And for the most part, once you'd joined in, you two were equals in the battle.

“So, what'd you do while we were out?” Dean asked, mouth still full. They'd driven straight through; crashing as soon as they'd hit their rooms. He hadn't really had much time to catch up.

“Made a little head way on the file room. Dusted. Put all of the books in the library back. Ya know: maid stuff. But, most of the time, I ended up at Alice's.” You answered with a shrug. It wasn't a terribly exciting life you led. Unlike him and Sam.

“How's she doing?” His interest piqued. Chewing slower as he waited for you to give him the details.

“As happy as a woman on bed rest, in her eighth month of pregnancy can be.” You chuckled, thinking of your friend. She was a taller, naturally willowy woman with long strawberry blonde curls. Sporting a belly as big as a yoga ball in front of her. “Bane thinks she's going to pop any second. He's turning into a wreck.”

“Poor, guy.” Dean chuckled. Picturing it with ease. “I'll have to drop in sometime. Grab a present for the beast-to-be. Maybe that'll calm some nerves.”

Bane was slightly taller than either Winchester, but less bulky. His hair was practically black, it was so dark. The pair of had-been-hunters had been a package deal with you. Dean had joined into the gang without a problem once he'd met you. An amazing feat for the natural loner. Sam had taken to them with a similar ease- one that had excluded you.

“I'll go with you.” Sam spoke up, ignoring the sour look his words dredged up. Just great.

–

“Sam!” You screeched, tearing down the hall the next morning. As soon as you were able, you slammed onto his door with your fists. “Open up, you coward!” Teeth ground together as his bed creaked, but no other sound emitted. “Bastard!”

“What the hell is going on?” Dean peeked his head out of his door to see what was going down; hair sticking up everywhere. Ever the sleepy hedgehog. “Y/N? What's your problem, now?”

“He put dead fish in all of my drawers, and then shut off my air conditioning!” You hissed out. The putrid scent still clung to your nostrils. Riling you up further. “So, not only does my room smell like rotting fish- No, that wasn't good enough. He made sure that the heat stuck the scent to everything. I can't get it out! I've gone through three air fresheners! Three! I don't have a window I can open, Dean!” You turned back to the door, putting your entire strength into the knock. The wood shook with the force of it. Every bit of murderous rage transferring from you to the door in the process. “Sam Winchester! You're dead! Do you hear me? Dead!”

A string of very detailed- though empty- threats ensued, making Dean roll his eyes and walk away; carrying an 'it's too early for this shit' look on his face. With a sigh, he tightened his robe. Moving to seek out coffee. Wondering, not for the first time, if it was truly worth it to have you both at each other's throats.

Sam grinned as he heard the muffled sounds that were no doubt promises of retaliation over the music thumping in his ears. He'd decided you'd earned a present for all of your 'impeccable' manners the night before.

She really should've remembered to lock her door. He'd learned you were a fairly solid sleeper early on, and had used it to his advantage when he felt the urge. Sam was almost insulted that you hadn't kept your guard up. Maybe I'm getting out of practice? The increased echoes of you shouting confirmed that wasn't the case.

He'd rarely started prank wars in his life, preferring to finish what Dean started. But in your case, he'd made an exception. Several times. Wonder how long it takes her to check inside her box spring? His grin grew wide while he pondered over that one, turning up the volume until nothing else could be heard. Letting Celine Dion block you out. She thinks she's mad now...

--

You left to visit Alice to cool down; knowing that the moment you spotted the younger Winchester, you were going to lose your cool further. Exactly what he wanted. You'd be damned if you'd give him anymore satisfaction than your blow up that morning had already delivered.

“He did what?” She was trying not to laugh, making you narrow your eyes her way as you paced through the pale, homey room. She coughed to cover up her broken chuckles. Finally, the blonde almost made it to a serious note. “No, you're right. That isn't funny. It's awful.” A snort she couldn't seem to help left as she rested on the couch.

“It's like he's a five year old!” You grumbled, crossing your arms as maturely as you could. It failed. You resembled a sulking child, yourself. “I had an easier life in that one foster care home. The one with all the boys- The James's house. You know all of the horror stories from that place.” A shudder ran through you as you recalled being the only girl out of nine kids. “As bad as they were, at least they learned not to piss me off. This guy gets off on it.” Your eyes narrowed further as you thought about your room, again. “He could at least pretend not be so cruel. I mean, a water snake in the toilet would have been less evil.” At your friend's disbelieving look, you clarified, “That doesn't make all of my possessions reek indefinitely. It's short term misery.” Because that made perfect sense.

“I'll have to remember that one.” Sam's deep voice made you spin around to the living room entrance. Speak of the devil and he shall appear... 

He looked too comfortable resting near the kitchen. The way his plaid glued to his shoulders made him too large for you to stand. His expression too smug. It made you wonder just how cocky he'd look once you gave him a black eye. Maybe a split lip.

“Don't even think about it, Winchester.” You hissed out. He grinned in merriment as your E/C eyes flashed his way. “I grew up with that one. Always look before you sit.”

“Great advice.” 

“I try to be helpful.” Your tone was anything but. If looks could have killed, Sam Winchester would have been a dead man. Again.

You wanted nothing more than to strangle him for his childish prank. But, giving him any more satisfaction? You'd rather die.

Instead, you pulled out your inner ice queen that drove him crazy. All the while plotting your revenge. You felt your features relax into the cold mask you'd picked up in your childhood as you two looked at each other. The tiniest twitch in his left eye made it all worthwhile.

“Sammy!” Alice cooed in joy, holding her arms out for a hug. He stopped the stare down so he could move to bend down to her; wrapping her in a warm embrace. Careful not to crush the bump at her middle.

“How's the beast doing?” He asked before settling beside her on the couch. Behaving like a regular human being rather than a monster. You leaned against the wall, unwilling to take any of the open seats beside the giant ogre.

“Having a great time using my ribs as a trampoline.” She chuckled with a light grimace as her stomach rolled lightly from the movement of the child inside of her. Made all the more visible by her thin tank top.

“See, the perfect nickname.” He teased, having coined the unborn child once it started becoming more active. Watching the infant lull inside the womb with amazement.

“I don't know. I'm sure I can think of someone more fitting for that title.” You smiled sweetly, making sure to bat your eyes for the extra appearance of innocence. 

No one in the room bought it. Not even the child. All movement seemed to cease in response.

“So, have you two decided on a name, yet?” He ignored you, and went back to the baby talk.

You'd known he didn't have much to do with kids having grown up the way he had. Sam was thrilled at the prospect of being exposed to an infant before he eventually settled down into that life style himself. It had never been a secret.

As much as you disliked the man, you couldn't help but appreciate how intrigued he was with the entire thing. It was oddly adorable to see such a closed off- to you, anyway- man so enthused about new life. Though, you'd let a bus run you over before you admitted that out loud.

“We have an idea for a boy-”

“And a girl?” You asked, knowing exactly what was coming. However, you couldn't resist the jab.

“It's a boy. Why would she worry about a girl's name?” Sam looked at you as if you were crazy for even suggesting that option. The normally- when you excluded yourself from the equation- rational man was a hundred percent certain that he was right. You hoped it was a girl out of nothing short of spite.

“You're aware that we didn't allow them to give up the sex, right?” Alice chuckled at how solid Sam was on the baby's future identity.

“I just know.” You rolled your eyes at his response, earning a look from Alice that screamed for you to behave. With a low sigh and pursed lips, you forced yourself back to the nothing. Leaving your face empty as it relaxed.

“There's our favorite girl,” Dean walked in through the kitchen's entrance with Bane at his side. The proud papa-to-be was all decked out in his work gear- having landed a job with a local mechanic. Dark hair mused from the long shift. Meanwhile, his counterpart was in his usual clean cut layers. Spick and span without a hunt in sight.

“I thought I had that title?” You mock pouted as Dean trotted over to kiss Alice's cheek; forgetting  about the mask you were supposed to be sporting.

“When you're stuck in a bed- or on a couch- for four months, you can have your title back.” He sat down in the rocking chair beside her, making sure he winked your way first. Dean rested as close as he could. Always the protector of the young and innocent.

“You're not crazy doped up on hormones,” Bane walked over to you. Making up for the Winchesters' neglect. “So, you definitely have the edge.” He wrapped you up into a friendly hug. Giving you a sense of calm that you hadn't felt since Sam had walked back through the bunker's entrance.

You loved the big man like a brother. The both of you had met years ago while running away from your foster homes- well before Alice had joined the party. You two had been closer back in the day. Even so, the newfound distance regular life threw between you two didn’t take away any of the affection.

“She's just crazy in general,” Sam muttered, earning a swat from the closest thing your group had to a mother figure. “What? Am I wrong?” She just stared him down. Waiting for his will to crumble. Sure enough, he gave in. “Fine, sorry.” He grumbled. Then, the conniving bastard played his hand. “See if I give you the chocolate I bought...” His lips quirked up as he teased her, knowing her weakness.

“Chocolate?” She quickly agreed with his assessment of your character; earning a small, fond, smile from Sam. You were almost jealous at how easily he had taken everyone else. You'd never once received that look.

You didn't remain long after that. Hated feeling like an outsider within your own group of peers. You never stayed long once Sam infiltrated your favorite get away zone.

Instead, you fled to the closest store to pick up more air fresheners and groceries for the bunker. You took your time. Conversing with the locals and grabbing some food. Knowing that Bane and Alice would feed the other two.

By the time you forced yourself back to the bunker, they still weren't back. Part of you was relieved. The rest of you? Frustrated. You didn't let yourself dwell on it. Instead, you threw yourself into work.

“That dick.” You hissed, pulling out the last dead fish from under your bed. Without a hitch, you tossed it into your trash can beside you. The rotting corpse churned your gut. It took everything in you not to gag as you glanced around to make sure it truly was the final one.

“He's upped his game since the last time we'd gone at it.” Dean's voice made you jump. The action slammed your skull against the frame loudly. “Oh, damn. You okay?”

“I'm good.” You rubbed your scalp lightly, wiggling out from the danger zone. “All of my clothes are in the washer. I think I finally found the last piece of tuna. And, I can kind of breath in here, again.” You had fans on, and the air fresheners were finally making a difference...slowly. “I think I'm good for right now.” It took every bit of strength you had not to rub your head as you flipped the can up to tie the bag.

“You know, if you wanted to leave...I wouldn't stop you.” Dean's words made you freeze for a moment. When you finally looked up? Dean looked haggard from the day he'd had.

“Why would I want to leave?” You played deliberately obtuse as you moved to slowly sit on your bed.

You should have known that he'd have been able to read you like a book. He was awful when it came to himself, but you? He'd noticed the wear the bunker was leaving on you.

“Come on, Y/N.”  Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'd have to be blind to miss how miserable you and Sam are around each other. And you? You seem to be having a harder time than usual. And that got me thinking-”

“It's nothing compared to some of the homes, Dean.” You sent him a soft smile. He knew all about your past, and winced at the thought of what you'd been through. “Not to mention, you two aren't the only legacies. This place... It's in my blood.” You looked around your room, taking in the only place you'd ever felt safe enough to sleep soundly in. It was amazing what a simple DNA test could uncover. “Plus, what would I do without Dean Winchester down the hall to turn to?”

“That's just it.” He was clearly bothered by what his mind had conjured up. Frowning even deeper as he started to pace. His hand moving aggressively as he talked. “We're not here all of the time. We're gone way more than we're home. You don't have me just down the hall-”

“So, get me a puppy to have for company while you're gone.” You laughed lightly. Getting to your feet, you reached to grip his broad, navy covered shoulders. Forcing him to look at you. “Dean, I'm fine. Really. If I had any complaints, I'd let you know.” 

You appreciated his concern. It made up for everything else. Even with his brother's behavioral problems, you were happier in the bunker than you'd been in your entire life. It didn't matter if things were a little more heated than usual the past few weeks.

“That's just it, Y/N.” He looked you deep into the eyes. “You're always 'fine' nowadays, but when's the last time you were more than that?” Just like that, your face fell. You hated when Dean got deep, and hit home...

Part Two

[thethrillof]

start of a weird bug tank au hollow knight/undertale crossover thing b/c i am embracing self indulgence! fuck it!

warning for the hollow knight being an absolute wreck and death-related stuff

Do not think.

It fails. The situation is beyond anything it has encountered, has heard of, was warned of.

Do not speak.

It cannot. If it tried, it would choke on meticulous lifetime habit and Her infection. The last words it has heard, shaking its tiny body, meant nothing.

Do not feel.

It does. Terror. Confusion. Terror increasing, in that the confusion does not belong solely to it and that is horribly new.

Do not hope.

That is simple enough. It knows not what could be hoped for, here.

The Hollow Knight drips infection across the strange white cloth beneath it, legs curled stiffly to avoid pressing against the glass wall of its prison.

The holes eaten away in its chest, stomach, and arm are no longer agonizing. Another creature had taken care of that.  Perhaps several. They had been moved between multiple hands. The details were lost in the haze of Her rage; all but the hands each being more than the length of its body. It had nearly fallen. It had tried to fall. Do not feel, do not feel, do not feel.

It is so tired.

She is not enraged. She is not screaming. She is waiting behind its eyes, panic stabbing through its body in a burning rhythm.

She directs its head without care. Face aimed to the side, it can see more than a white blur from above, a pink stripe along the floor outside. A creature, waiting across an abyss.

She unfurls its body. Her chanting direction of slaughter, unceasing for years, is now silent.

The distant creature lies still.

It recalls an impression of what must have been eyes, golden brown, staring into the clear cell intensely.

The creature is not watching now. Quiet. Sleeping.

Its body moves. It resists now that it has space to do so, leaving its single arm uselessly resting against the branch in the center of the cell.

…When had the other been lost?

Do not think. It gives Her purchase.

The stump that is left flares with a memory of its shape, and She grasps the branch, begins to drag its body upward. The Temple contained them both for too long. An echo of Her rage, newly building, blinds and deafens it back to submission. A chance for true freedom is here. She will succeed and it will break, again and again, as it has done before.

It is so tired.

It.

It wants.

It wants everything

to 

stop.

Do not hope.

When it can see through its own eyes once more, the giant creature is within arm’s reach.

^

Frisk wakes up with a tiny white face right in front of theirs.

It’s just luck that they don’t slam their head into the wall when they fling it back, away from something way too close so suddenly.

They stare at each other across the length of their pillow, unmoving, as Frisk starts getting their bearings back. The stickbug, the one they got from the monsters on the side of one of the mountains. It got out. Somehow.

They ask how the heck it did that.

Which, of course, does nothing.

Carefully lifting their head and resting it on their hand, their eyes slide back to the jar on the windowsill. The napkin they’d secured with the rubber band had a hole ripped all the way through, as if their stickbug had jumped straight up and out. And maybe it did. It must’ve taken some pretty big jumps to get all the way from there to the desk to their bed, unless it climbed down and back up. A quick glance at the floor shows that Mom’s pie is there, though a bug-sized bite or several probably wouldn’t be something they can see.

The stickbug sways, twitches, pitches forward, so fast they barely notice. It’s tiny, so it doesn’t have far to fall, even if it did to the blanket, and it doesn’t. It rests face-first against the side of the pillow instead, almost like it’s still standing.

Do bugs breathe? They gotta, since Mom said not to close them in the jar. The stickbug is entirely still when they get in real close, holding their own breath to see if it’ll move. When it doesn’t, they gingerly nudge it into the palm of one hand, where it curls its one upper leg against itself. Arm, maybe. They don’t know too much bug stuff, except that bees don’t sting unless you’re mean first. And that it’s not actually a stickbug. Real ones actually look like sticks. This one looks like it’s made of black wires. Wirebug just sounds weird.

Toriel is the one who knows the bug stuff. They showed the stickbug off to her first, asked her to help it, ‘cause it was bleeding all over. They never actually asked what she thought it was. Didn’t have time.

She’s the one who got the jar and let them decorate it. And she’s the one who told them, very gently, that she didn’t think the stickbug would make it overnight. Her healing magic helped, but it’s not made for fixing bugs. “Bugs rarely live long lives, my child,” she said. “It will be pleased with whatever you give it.” They think she might’ve been lying, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

It looks like it started bleeding again after they fell asleep. The orangeness is dripping down its face, uncomfortably warm where it runs down the finger that its head’s propped to rest against. Mom healed that before, they’re almost absolutely sure.

They could put it back in the jar. Leave it. To maybe get better?

Or maybe not. Maybe leave it to die.

Alone.

Frisk’s fingers curl around the stickbug a little more. They’re still pretty sleepy. It’s nowhere near dawn, still sometime after Toriel went to bed. They shift and settle their back against the wall.

It’s just a bug, but it’s still alive now. Even if it won’t be for long. Even if it can’t see, or doesn’t know what’s happening. It might--after all, Muffet’s spiders were smarter than the ones that they’d met on the Surface before. Maybe they hadn’t been paying enough attention.

They sit up better, even though they’re sleepy, shifting their hands to let the stickbug stretch out over both their palms if it wants.

They’d never died alone, of course, but even the company of somebody (or somebodies) trying to kill them somehow seems like a less awful thought. That’s terrifying, though they can’t explain why, even to themselves. Any death sucks (though getting ate is probably the worst).

Mommy! Daddy!

No. They push those thoughts off. That wasn’t alone. He was, they weren’t, game over.

It was almost like dying alone, down in the Lab. Before they got to talk the the Amalgamates in the right way. It was just cold, dark, unsettling, voices dancing around their ears and coming from their own mouth, sometimes. It was terrible.

It was cold. The echoes of air and distant Amalgamates were awful, otherworldly music.

It was cold.

It’s cold.

It’s so cold--

Until it isn’t.

Sunlight scalds their face and circles wheel around their head and they press their hands over their eyes, snarling. Frisk was busy remembering!

Something is above them. It’d be blocking out the light if it had shadow but it is the light, so they get even angrier at it. Her. HER. HER, SHE, THE RADIANCE brands into their brain.

They snap at the Radiance to get away from them.

“Little creature,” she roars sings hums laughs. “Greater beasts have tried to order me away.”

The light ripples underwater. There’s no water.  Her words pump toxin through their skin.

They move their head, cracking their eyes open. The world’s clouds and light and just a bit of stone under their back. They’re lying down. They shouldn’t be.

“Little creature. I wonder your purpose.” She does not. Certainty of a goddess that knows all, unshaken as earth scorched to nothing.

(The thought of a lie does not come to them. Fortunately, this doesn’t matter.)

Moving is painful. The sun beats down on them in waves, hot as fire, sharp as spears, and they have had enough of that.

They are not alone.

“Little creature.” She reminds them of meeting Papyrus, but that’s an insult to him. Overwhelming, alarming. Nothing to hide behind here. Undyne, bellows of justice, cutting through. Asgore, the whispers and rumors, the coffins, the warmth.

None of their sadness. None of the pain. Liar, liar, liar. They want their dagger.

“I am here. Listening. Speak. Stand. Allow me closer.” Burnt sugar sweet. A warm last breath. Love broken, love lost.  

The heat presses down harder.

They remember climbing a mountain. They remember finding a home.

Hissing words that Toriel would ground them a month for, grasping without sight, knowing what they want is right there, right next to them on the stone. A head that’s not a head, a shell, a mask, a face, a little white face with orange eyes that they blindly claw at, spilling the nasty goop to leave the space behind. It’s not a little face, it’s a mask longer than either of their arms, and after they’re done it’s held defiantly against their chest.

She screeches.

They screech back.

“You reach for that empty thing!” Her words vibrate through their teeth. “That lie! That wyrm-born abomination! You know nothing! Not where it comes from, not the shattering of my light! You will release it. You, creature, fragile, pathetic, little CREATURE. Listen! LISTEN. Do not turn your back. Nothing again. LITTLE CREATURE. COME HERE. YOU WILL RELEASE ME. YOU WILL KILL IT. YOU WILL END WHAT REMAINS OF HIM.”

The mask they hold is so, so, so cold, it bites into their skin worse with the orange burning.

A child braces for pain.

A child grits teeth.

Fought a God made of every SOUL of every monster they ever met, built of l-o-v-e, full of LOVE, stars and colors screaming and whirling and ripping them to bits. They died and died and died and refused. Hopes and Dreams and Determination, all swirling and ripping gracelessly out of their chest.

They tell her: no!

They tell her: My name’s Frisk!

They tell her: I don’t care!

They tell her: This stickbug is MINE! They’re mine! Not yours!

They are a Fallen Child even if not The Fallen Child, and they lost their fear the first time they tripped into fire, were consumed and shattered by it, and they prove this by twisting, sliding, leaping off the stone to plummet into the dark under her horrible terrible beautiful screaming--

They land with a jolt in their bed, foggy gray light filtering in through the window.

Blinking afterimages of gold circles from their eyes, they adjust their neck and look at the stickbug still in their fingers. Their stickbug, they think with a shadow of anger that’s already fading with wakefulness.

Their stickbug sits up, staring at them with deep black eyes.

Frisk gives it a tired grin.

Look, they whisper. Survived the night after all.

[bakugous-abs]

Could you do some Angst™️ of Midoriya with a so who’s actually the traitor but after they become friends with 1A and all that they don’t want to help the LOV anymore but then Midoriya finds out?? Sorry if I’m being unspecific lmao 👀

~Admin Eun

One mission. All theywere assigned was one damned mission, and as it seemed they couldn’t even dothat right. The only thing that was asked of (Name) (Last Name) was to gatherintel on U.A. and not get caught—which, actually, they succeeded at. In fact,it was going pretty spectacular if they were being honest with themselves. Soin hindsight, there was only one problem.

Well, that ‘one problem��might as well have been a giant, disgusting amalgamation of hundreds ofproblems, because it was pretty damn big.

As a villain (Name) wasnaturally supposed to be cunning, which they were, and they were supposed to bedeceiving, which once again they were. They would’ve been the perfect pawn inShigaraki Tomura’s little game if not for one fatal flaw—their emotions. Nomatter how much they tried to resist the feeling, (Name) became quite fond oftheir classmates. They were supportive, kind, and always willing to offer akind word despite the circumstances. They differed greatly from the League ofVillains. While the League was brash and rarely stuck around to have a pleasantchat with (Name), class 1-A was always there to talk with them. They’d makethem laugh, cry, everything that (Name) tried so hard to suppress plus a bag ofchips. And to think that they went in with such a determination to ruthlesslybreak the optimistic students of U.A., but in the end fell victim to pettyfeelings like easy flattery.

…Still, (Name) wasn’tone to deny how addictive the feeling was. It felt good to come into a dormfull of students eager to play a game with them, or be willing to do smallthings like make them breakfast or even just walk with them to class. Theynever suspected a thing, which would’ve been a good thing if not for theconstant guild that gnawed on the back of (Name’s) back. To make matters worse,it would seem that not only had (Name) began to actually enjoy having class 1-Aas friends, but to make things so much severely worse, they had sproutedfeelings for one of the boss’ most prominent enemies—Midoriya Izuku himself.The second the feelings started to arise, (Name) was quick to try and distantthemselves from the boy at topic, but it only proved to be futile. The damnedkid was stubborn. He would constantly ask if they were still friends, shooting(Name) puppy eyes that made them weak in the knees. Finally, (Name) realizedthat they simply couldn’t do it. It was impossible—denying such strongfeelings. (Name) found themselves falling in love with Izuku, an emotion sostrictly foreign to them that it hit them like a freight train when theyrealized what was going on.

The boy’s sensitive andgentle charm was too much for (Name) to handle, and eventually they foundthemself in the predicament of being his significant other. (Name) convincedthemself that it was professional—for extra intel only, but deep down they knewthat that was in fact not the case. The smiles that only Izuku saw and thekisses that they shared were far from fake, and as (Name) fell harder and harderfor him, their guard eventually fell as well.

A night like any other,(Name) smiled as they stood outside of Izuku’s dorm. They had just finished amovie date with one another. “Goodnight, Izuku,” they said softly, pressingtheir lips softly to Izuku’s own. (Name) felt Izuku smile against their lips,shakily interlocking his hands with their own. After a moment of bliss, thepair pulled away and smiled at each other softly.

“Goodnight,” Izukuwhispered, going in for one more peck before chuckling timidly and shutting hisdoor behind him. (Name) was left to stare at his room number, biting their lip.For the time being, they ignored the fear and the guilt that resided in theirsoul.

(Name) made their wayto their own dorm, leaning on the shut door when they entered the safety ofthey own room. They only got a few moments to revel in peace before the deviceunder their bed blazed to life in a form of static, Shigaraki’s rough voicecoming through the speaker.

“(Last Name), answerme, now! Now, now, now!”

(Name) resisted a huffof annoyance as they snatched the device and practically snarled into it. “What?!I am here, reporting back.”

“You haven’t given meany more news in two weeks! I need some, now!”

Fuck, was this manresilient. Not to mention childish…Not that (Name) would ever say that. If theydid, no doubt would their death be immediate.

“Okay, for fucks sake!All I know is that students Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shouto failed theirLicense Exam, the rest passed. Three students came to the class today…I forgottheir names. Is that good enough for you, Shigaraki?”

(Name) listened toShigaraki mumble something to another person, most likely Kurogiri, before theylet out a sigh.

“…(Name)?”

(Name’s) eyespractically bulged out of their head as they turned around to see Izukustanding in the doorway. In his hand was their sweatshirt that they had left inhis dorm, but (Name) wasn’t focused on that. Instead, they only saw theexpression of utter misery graze his face, his eyes widened and mouth justbarely hung open. “What did you just say? Did you say Shigaraki? What did you…”

(Name) had been caught.

Izuku’s face wasdesolate of any emotion other than shock, almost disappointment. His words weresoft, but (Name) could hear them just barely. “I have to…I have to tell—!”

He ran out of theirroom, the shouts for Aizawa echoing down the halls. Shit—any minute now he’d bethere and (Name) would most definitely be screwed, even more so than they werenow. (Name) practically spat into the device. “Shigaraki, he heard me. You haveto come get me, now!”

“What?”

“Now, Shigaraki, now!They caught me, Eraserhead is—”

“Kurogiri, go, now!”

(Name) was quick tograb anything of complete importance, a sweat running down their forehead. Theyheard the footsteps—no, multiple footsteps run down the hall before Aizawaslammed into their room. He was quick to attempt to apprehend (Name) with hisscarf, (Name) narrowly blocking it before they grit their teeth.

“Shigaraki, outside thedorms!”

“Damn you, you—!” (Name)cared not for his insults as they made a running leap out the window, grimacingat the feeling of glass graze deeply into their skin. Kurogiri’s purple smogappeared in front of them, his voice strictly ushering them to hurry. Hurrythey did, (Name) stepping into the temporary safety as they felt their bodybeing teleported away.

They saw Aizawa lookout the window before letting out a string of curses at the sight. They sawtheir friends—Kirishima, Ashido, Yaoyorozu, Iida—all look out the window withdistraught faces at the sight of one of their trusted friends voluntarily leavewith their enemies.

But most heartshattering of all, they saw Izuku stare down at them, tears filled in his greeneyes that (Name) had feel in love with. They saw him being forcefully pulledaway from that damned window as he shouted for (Name), the one he had fell inlove with.

(Name) saw the lifethat they had learned to love be all taken away from them in less than aminute, and it was all their fault.

[blogging-phelddagrif]

Legacy Deck Tech: High Tide

[you can see every deck tech here]

Hello & welcome to this weekly deck tech. This week we’re back in legacy with a deck that has fascinated me for a while: High Tide. To be completely honest, I knew this deck was around for a really long time but I never understood how it worked and how it won, it felt too complicated for me. Later on I actually looked into it and it’s much simpler than I thought, and much MUCH more fun! Lets get right into it and see what the deck is about.

Name of the Deck

This card lends its name to the deck because it’s the centerpiece of it; the goal is to cast a/multiple High Tide and make an absurd amount of mana. What you do with the mana will vary from one situation to the other, you have quite a few choices, but the goal is still always to resolve a High Tide, and hopefully win from there. Because of this the deck can get hit very hard by a Surgical Extraction, but it’s not as common in legacy, especially in the mainboard, and it has ways to protect itself.

The Payoffs aka the Sideboard

Usually if I talk about the sideboard it’s at the end of the deck tech, but in here it plays such an integral part of the deck that I need to talk about it earlier. Basically the deck runs 4x Cunning Wish, and all of the win conditions are in the sideboard, safe from discard spells, from exile effects, etc (even though Wish itself isn’t safe from those but whatever). What you want to do is make a bunch of mana, and then cast a Cunning Wish to get one of the following cards: Blue Sun’s Zenith or Brain Freeze. You have 1 copy of both in your sideboard to finish the game. But you can also Wish some situational cards like Snap, Echoing Truth, Chain of Vapors, Surgical Extraction & Hurkyl’s Recall. Basically your sideboard is 15 different instants that you can tutor up at a moment’s notice to save your ass or win the game.

How to Get More Mana

One of the best ways to make sure you get tons of mana in a single turn is Turnabout. Lets say it’s turn 6, you cast a High Tide, tap your 5 remaining lands for 10 mana, cast a Turnabout and retap your 6 lands; now you got 18 mana. On turn 6. That’s a lot, especially since that’s with just 2 cards, the deck is built to make the most out of your mana and generate just as much. The deck usually plays 3 Turnabouts in the maindeck and 1 in the sideboard for Wish to grab if necessary.

Never Run Out of Gas

This is kind of what makes up for most of the deck’s worth, Time Spiral is kind of expensive, but OH BOY is it worth it. Remember when I said that with only High Tide + Turnabout on turn 6 you got 18 mana? Add in a Time Spiral and you’re up to 24 with a brand new hand of cards (also your graveyard is back into your library so you can recycle your old cards!). So yeah I’d say this is pretty good. This is THE card to make sure you can keep going. You just play all your hand, cast a Time Spiral and start all over again, netting yourself mana every time and bringing that Storm count up; now Brain Freeze & Blue Sun’s Zenith are both most likely lethal.

Cantrips For Days

A blue deck in legacy wouldn’t be the same without cantrips, even more so in this deck! So, back to the previous scenario; you cast a Time Spiral, got 24 mana and a fresh new hand. Well, most of the deck is cantrips, so you can usually play card after card after card, until you find another Time Spiral and cast that one too. Between Brainstorm, Ponder, Preordain & Sleight of Hand you have TONS of cantrips. Now you got yourself 16 cheap card draw spells so realistically you’re never running out of gas.

Redundancy at its Finest

Nothing says redundancy like tutors! Merchant Scroll serves as a really solid way to grab any useful instant to make sure you don’t fizzle out. Sadly you can’t search for Time Spiral, but you can still get a Tournabout or Cunning Wish which is great to keep going, or just straight up end the game. The deck also usually plays 1 Intuition since it’s a pretty solid card and adds some more tutoring options; it’s a bit less reliable than Merchant Scroll, but it’s still a good card to run. Plus, Intuition is an instant so you can grab some counterspells with it. Speaking of...

Counterspells!

You’re playing blue, so there’s no way around it, especially in a combo deck, you need to play some Force of Will. Being able to protect your combo pieces is VERY important so you can’t avoid playing those. Also, most decks run 2x Flusterstorm as added protection since they work against other Flusterstorm, or any other storm card. Seriously, you need to play those 6 counterspells or the deck can be fragile to hate cards and you’re going to have a bad time.

Wrap-Up

That’s it for this week! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! The deck is super sweet and I’m glad I took the time to learn how to play it. It’s rare to see mono-blue combo decks and it works very differently than other combo decks. If I missed anything please let me know. I’ll see you all next week for a pauper deck tech!

[odderancyart]

Matrimony

@pentollsinwhynot Bingo-requested Shotgun Wedding with Blackcherry!

Warnings: Skelepregnancy, briefest mention of abortion

Word count: 3371

A sudden guitar riff cut through his dreams, and Red’s soul jumped up in his throat as he sat straight up, the bed creaking beneath him. One of his eyes blazed red in the darkness of the room. Then he caught sight of the phone vibrating on his nightstand and he exhaled slowly, lifting up an arm to rub over his eyes. He yawned, glancing at his digital clock. 07:12. Who the fuck would be calling at this time of day? The sun had yet to rise.

The light of the screen cut in his eyes, and he narrowed them to protect himself as he read the name on the screen. Razz. Who- He blinked. Oh, right. They’d met a party a month ago and had sex afterwards. Apparently, they’d exchanged numbers, despite him not remembering they did. His heat throbbed from exhaustion as he swiped the green button, placing the phone against his ear before falling back down onto the soft pillows with a groan. “Yeah?”

“Red?” The voice was quiet, shaky. He frowned. Scared? Maybe. “It’s Razz.”

“Yeah, ‘s Red,” he confirmed. He yawned again, feeling his eyelids drop. Fuck, he shouldn’t have been up so late yesterday, but Sans had roped him into this new game he’d found. And goddamn if it hadn’t been fun. Worth it. “What can be important enough ta call before sun’s even risen?”

“I-” Razz seemed to hesitate, and he heard him take a deep breath. Then it all spilled out in rapid succession. “I’m pregnant and it’s ours. The time fits and I haven’t been with anyone else so it’s got to be and-“

“What?” Once again, he abruptly sat up. His soul drummed in his ears as he almost dropped the phone. Suddenly, all sleepiness was gone. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he blindly crossed the room to flip on the lights. For a moment, everything was white before his eyes got used to it and the bed in the corner of his room appeared, as well as the writing desk with the multiple computer screens, and the electric guitar hanging on the wall. Red leaned heavily against the wall. “What do ya mean yer pregnant. With our child.”

“I mean I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.” Some annoyance mixed with the panic in Razz’s voice. “There’s no questioning it.”

“Fuck.” For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Swallowing, he sank down on the cold floor. The chill was grounding, but not enough. His breaths began come out in shallow gasps as he turned to stare at one of the pictures on the wall. Of him, his brother, and their father during a trip to Paris. Dr Gaster stood between them both, looking as serious as ever. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Father’s gonna kill me if I have kids outta marriage.”

“You think you have problems? I can’t afford a fucking kid, Red.” Razz took a deep breath. “I was going to university but that’s not happening now. Meet me at the café in Natalia Gardens at 11. Don’t you dare bail out on me.”

Before he could get out another word, the phone went silent. The call had ended. Red dropped the phone, and it fell to the floor with a quiet thump. He stayed there for a few seconds, before slowly standing up again, picking up his phone. Glancing at himself in the full-body mirror on the wall, he stopped. The word echoed in his mind. Pregnant. Sweat dripped down his neck, and he was trembling, despite feeling far too hot.

Fucking hell. There was basically only one way to fix this and he didn’t like it. But- He wasn’t about to abandon Razz either – even if no one would believe it was his child if he, the great Doctor Gaster’s oldest, denied it. Said he had no idea what Razz was talking about. Yeah, he couldn’t do that. But having a bastard… Both they and the kid would suffer. Especially Razz, as the one to carry it. And abortion- yeah. If it was found out, and Razz didn’t die in the process, the priests would have their literal heads.

Tearing his eyes away from his pallid face, he dropped into his office chair. He was in so much trouble.

…

Rush-hour was just about starting as Red dismounted his motorcycle outside of the gardens. In them, however, it would be quieter: beautiful as it was, for some reason there never seemed to be a lot of people inside. He locked it into place and put his helmet away before making his way into them. The wind was chilly, and he had to close his leather jacket over his black band t-shirt. Autumn-coloured trees towered above him as he hurried along the pathway toward the small café. It was as far away from the entrance as one could get, and so, rarely had too many visitors. Rain drizzled down from the grey skies, causing him to duck his head.

A bell jingled gently as he entered, and the scent of newly baked cinnamon rolls washed over him. His shoulders sank as he stepped into the warmth. His biker boots thumped against the wooden floor as he stopped, looking around. The walls were painted blue-grey, and the young man behind the white wooden counter smiled at him in greeting. Small tables filled up the floor, with few visitors inside. A couple old ladies by the window, three teenagers close to the door, and then, in the corner, two skeletons. He stiffened as Razz caught his eye. Two?

There was Razz, obviously, wearing a purple turtleneck, a black skirt, black leggings, and knee-high black boots. But the other skeleton was taller, in dark jeans and a dark orange turtleneck. And as they saw Razz was staring, they turned around, and found Red. A drop of sweat trickled down his neck beneath the stranger’s icy glare. Fighting the urge to cower, he quickly ordered and paid for a black coffee before making his way over to the table.

He raised a hand in an awkward greeting. “Hiya.”

“Hello,” Razz replied. It was polite enough, but his voice was tense. He gestured toward the table’s third chair. “Sit, please.” When Red did, he gestured again, this time toward the second skeleton. “Red, this is my dad, Wingdings Serif. Dad, this is Red. Red Gaster.”

Red offered his hand, only to grimace as Razz’s dad grasped it, squeezing. His smile was disconcertingly sharp, even omitting the fangs. One of his eyelights glowed orange, and the other neon pink. “Good day, sir.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Somehow, Red doubted it. The other still hadn’t let go of his hand, and it was starting to go numb. It buzzed. Mr Serif’s grin sharpened yet another bit, and Red subconsciously leaned away. “Say, is Razz correct that you’re the renowned Dr Gaster’s son?”

“Yeah,” he almost gasped out, the pressure around his fingers growing. He sighed in relief as Mr Serif finally let go off them. Pulling them in under the table, he carefully flexed them, holding in another grimace. Ouch. “His oldest.”

“And what, exactly, is it you do?”

A shiver travelled up his spine as those eyes stared straight into his soul. They seemed to burn brighter with every moment. Red took a deep breath, straightening. What the fuck was he doing, letting someone intimidate him? His father would be ashamed. “’M taking a gap year, sir, but then ’m going to study quantum physics a’ th’ University o’ Camaria.” One of the country’s finest universities.

“See,” Razz interrupted, causing him to twitch. Mr Serif only turned toward him, with one eyebrow raised. “Told you.”

“Yep,” he agreed before turning back to Red. He hummed, grin dropping as fast as it had come. “Good. Then you will at least be able to give Razz and the thing a stable home, now when you’ve taken his chance to make his own future.” He abruptly stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as it almost fell over. He caught Red’s gaze, and the pink eyelight flickered. “Have fun. The wedding will be before it starts to show.” He leaned on the back of his chair, a manic smile flashing over his face as he held the eye contact. “Or I’ll find you.”

Then he swept around, gone in an instant. Red stared after him, gaping. His soul pounded in his chest as he tried to process that he’d just both been death threatened and commanded to marry someone he’d met once. Once the words began to sink in, however, he sagged. Oh fuck, that was the only option wasn’t it? Marriage. But he was fucking nineteen. When he finally tore his eyes away from the door, back to the table, Razz was watching him in disinterest, stirring his cup of cocoa with a spoon.

“Huh,” he said, dropping the spoon. It tinkled as it fell against the pink cup. “You took that better than most. Didn’t even whimper. Colour me impressed.”

“What the fuck. Did he just threaten ta kill me.” Red stared at him, unable to believe the other was so calm about this.

“Yep,” he said, popping on the ‘P’. “And don’t think he wouldn’t do it. Now shut up about dad. There’re more important things going on here. Like this.” He grabbed his shirt, pulling it up. Purple ectoplasm immediately lit up their table, and inside, a small crimson soul floated. Oh fuck that was his colour. He still wanted a paternity test to make sure, but oh Angel he felt most of his doubt ebb away.

Still-

“Pretty,” he breathed. Hell, he wasn’t ready for any of this but, it was.

The corner of Razz’s mouth twitched. Then his expression turned serious. “Listen. I like this even less than you do. We’ve been saving all my life to afford me going to university, and now this. And I am not fond of the idea of marrying you. You’re a stranger. But you listen here-” He leaned over the table, eyelights gleaming in the dim corner. Red swallowed. “-I am not going to become a pariah. I am not throwing away my future, and will not become a single parent working three jobs to make ends meet. Fuck no. So we’re doing what dad says. This is just as much your fault as it’s mine and I refuse to be the only one taking responsibility.”

“Calm down, pal.” Red raised his hands. One of them hit his forgotten coffee cup, making it clink. “’M an asshole but not that kind o’ asshole. Yeah. I guess there’s not much choice ‘ere. But Father can’t know yer pregnant – I’d rather avoid being disowned.”

Razz sank back into his chair, relief evident on his face. He nodded, smiling faintly. “That’s acceptable. I expect a beautiful wedding.”

“O’ course. ‘M a Gaster. My brother would never allow anything else.” He hummed, reaching out for the coffee cup. It had begun to grow cold, but was still drinkable, luckily. Downing half of it at once, he stared up at the ceiling. “Now how th’ fuck am I gonna get Father ta pay fer this? Because I sure as hell can’t.”

Silence fell for a few moments. Then Razz snorted, bringing a spoonful of his cocoa to his mouth. “So what is your opinions on dogs?”

A grin spread across Red’s face. “Love ‘em.”

…

He took a deep breath, intertwining his fingers with Razz’s. Lifted it and watched the diamond ring now on his finger gleam in the few rays of sunlight that had broken through the clouds. They’d went and bought it immediately after coffee. Razz’s hand was trembling as he stared up at the manor towering above them, with its pillars and ebony-clad windows. Hesitance shone in his eyelights.

Gently, Red tugged at his hand, leading him along the path toward the grand entrance. Security cameras buzzed as they zoomed in on them, but otherwise everything was quiet. Even the street laid abandoned in the middle of the day. It was pure luck that Dr Gaster was at home today, preparing for an important conference.

“You live here?” Razz murmured, almost reverently, and Red shrugged.

“Yeah. Father’s an important man.” It was an understatement. As one of the top scientists, and King Asgore’s closest advisors, Dr Gaster was indispensable to the realm. Red and his brother had basically grown up surrounded by top politicians. Razz only nodded as Red tapped in the code for the door to open. The entrance hall spread out before them, and he could hear Razz gasp.

And yeah, he supposed it was impressive with its valves in the ceiling and crystal chandeliers. He couldn’t see it, or rather he didn’t care, but he supposed it was. After letting Razz marvel for a few moments, he pulled him toward the staircase. His stomach squirmed with worry, and he squeezed his now-fiancé’s hand. It was weird to hold it, they still didn’t know each other, but if they were going to convince his father about this they better start early.

Then they were in front of his father’s study door. He glanced at Razz. Remember, he can’t know-” Razz nodded, and he raised a fist and knocked. A few seconds later, a come in came, and he slid the door open, revealing a huge room bordered with bookcases. In the middle, an oaken writing desk sat, and Doctor Gaster himself sat behind, dressed in a black suit of latest fashion. He looked up as they stepped in.

“Red,” he said, nodding. “Who is this?”

Taking a deep breath, Red held up their intertwined fingers, flashing the matching engagement rings on their fingers. Dr Gaster froze, staring first at them and then at him. Red smiled, trying to make it look convincing. “Razz, Father. My fiancé.”

Without a word, Dr Gaster stood, rounding the desk. As he came up to them, he towered above them, his red eyelights gleaming in the dim light of the study. Red grinned up at him, despite how his soul seemed to tremble. Oh, he was a great father, and had always done his best to properly raise both him and his brother despite being so busy, but he could also be incredibly intimidating. Especially when you were trying to get him to sponsor your very sudden wedding.

“I didn’t know you even had a boyfriend, Red,” he commented, and it would’ve seemed flippant except that the esteemed Dr Gaster would never be flippant. Red’s grin wavered. “Much less a fiancé.”

“Yeah,” he replied, resisting the urge to rub his neck. “It was a tiny bit sudden, but we want to get married. As soon as possible.”

“Oh?”

“And we need your help, Father.” Better just get to the fucking point. If there was one thing no one in his family could stand, it was people who wouldn’t stop digging around the bush. “We can’t pay for the wedding.”

Dr Gaster slowly nodded. His hands were behind his back, and he seemed to straighten yet another bit. “And why, exactly, are you in such a hurry?” Red opened his mouth to speak, and in the corner of his eye, he could see Razz do the same, but before either of them could think of anything to say, Dr Gaster’s mouth twisted into a sharp smile. His fangs gleamed. “Well, son? I want the truth.”

Sweat trickled down his neck. Fuck. Neither he nor Fell had ever managed to lie to their father. It was basically impossible. When no one spoke, Dr Gaster hummed, going back to sit in his chair. He folded his hands on the desk, staring up at them. His gaze was piercing. “You see, earlier this morning, I had an interesting fellow come here, demanding to see me. Wanted to secure his son’s future.” His voice and expression were completely collected, calm, which made it even scarier. Red swallowed hard. He could feel Razz squeeze his hand, but as he turned to the other, Razz’s face was completely blank.

“Very well.” Dr Gaster opened a drawer, pulling out some paper. He scratched down something on it with a fountain pen, before holding it out. Tentatively, Red let go off Razz to get it. As he grabbed it, the other held on, meeting his gaze. “I’m very disappointed, Red. I expected better.”

Hunching his shoulders, Red nodded. “Sorry. We were drunk.”

“What is done, is done.” Dr Gaster sighed. “Now get some better engagement rings. Those things look cheap and I will not let my son or his husband-to-be wear something that trashy.”

“Thanks, Father.”

When Dr Gaster turned back to the paperwork on his desk, Red knew they’d been dismissed. Grabbing Razz’s hand, he led them out of the study. As the door closed behind him, he exhaled and sat down in the nearby staircase. Razz joined him. Red threw his head back, staring up at the high ceiling. Things could be worse. At least Razz seemed like pretty decent company, even when he wasn’t drunk. Plus, Red could appreciate how he’d demanded marriage earlier: he liked a guy who didn’t back down.

“Well, that went better than expected. Now I just gotta tell my brother.”

Razz let out a quiet laugh. “This is all a huge fucking mess. But at least I’ll get a pretty ring.”

“That’s somethin’, ain’t it?”

…

After swallowing deeply, Red exhaled. Smoothed out the black suit with a dark red vest he was wearing. His soul pounded, and hadn’t he been completely on having his magic under control, he’d been sweating like a pig. A black engagement bond with a dark jewel glittering in all the rainbow’s colours sat on his finger. Music had begun playing inside the temple, and he stuck his hands into his trouser pockets to hide their trembling. Fuck he wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t get married. His mouth was dry, and he yearned desperately for a drink. Something strong.

“This is it then.” He twitched as Razz spoke, stepping up to him. His friends had just helped him with the last details of the wedding gown. One with high waist, just beneath where he’d find ecto-breasts in a month’s time or so, to hide the belly that was starting to bulge just slightly. Two months into the pregnancy. Two months since their futures had been decided. The gown was a muted purple with black silk ribbons as decorations, and he held a bouquet of black and dark purple flowers in his hands. Razz smiled, but it was shaky.

“Yeah-” His voice shook. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and there his brother was. Fell glared down at him sternly, but there was compassion in there too.

“Calm down,” he all but commanded. “Breathe, brother.” Exhaling again, Red felt his shoulders sink. He nodded. “Everything is going to be great, for both of you.”

“He’s right,” Razz said, taking place at Red’s right arm. Everyone else stepped into position. His smile turned determined as he met Red’s eyes. “We’ll make him right.”

A chuckle escaped Red, and he nodded again. Somehow, that did help. His soul slowed a bit. “Yer right. Matrimony won’t know what hit it.”

Suddenly the music got faster, and the doors began to slide open. Red closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, it wasn’t difficult to smile. The temple was decorated with candles and dark flowers, and an enormous crowd was gathered, all in dark colours. Just as he and Razz had wanted it. That they’d managed to put this together in less than a month- It was unbelievable. And at the very front, both their fathers stood, together with the priestess who was going to wed them. Both were smiling.

He held out his arm for Razz to take, and the other did. It was warm through the fabric. His eyes met Razz’s, and yeah. Yeah, they could do this. Something akin to certainty settled in his chest as the music got louder, and after receiving a nod and a smile from Razz, they stepped into the temple.