#its a little vague but there is canonically something there

[tossawary]

I don't have a solid plot attached to this idea, I don't currently really have the desire to drop everything to go write "The Hobbit" fanfiction, but for a while I've had the idea of *gestures vaguely" some post-canon story (probably some form of fix-it) taking place before, during, and after a grand dwarven opera performance in Erebor.

Because I am absolutely certain that the Lonely Mountain had an absolutely stunningly beautiful Royal Opera House (and plenty of other, less grand performance halls) that, at the city's height, was putting at least one show every single day. Orchestral symphonies, operas and operettas, dramatic plays, dance performances... you name it, they had it and more. The various cultures of Middle Earth evidently ADORE music, dwarves absolutely included. The Company all bring instruments to Bag End to play and sing themselves off before their quest!

Also, beyond the music side of things, with how dwarves are named as master crafters? Smiths and toymakers and magicians? No way that they did not have some of the most gorgeous costumes, sets, and effects on the planet. Dwarves would go WILD with their articulated stage puppets, I know it.

One of my biggest issues with the film trilogy is that it failed to deeply explore the Company as people who had lost their home, beauty and culture included. Smaug not only killed countless people, entire families, and leave many of the survivors poor and desperate, the dragon went on to hoard their heirlooms and life's work and leave these priceless gold treasures UNUSED. It is an additional heartbreak to imagine Smaug tearing through Erebor neighborhood by neighborhood, house by house, so that he could tear out every gemstone in, say, mosaic made by someone's grandmother that sat above the breakfast table every morning. To think that Smaug in the aftermath tore magical lanterns off the walls, the sort that might have been decorated with animals or flowers, to make some daycare walkway just a little more cheery for the children, and in his greed left a dead city in the dark.

The live-action movies put both Smaug and the Balrog in these... absolutely enormous chambers that serve somewhat unclear purposes. The king's treasure vault and a former marketplace, I think? (Moria has been raised by goblins, I can forgive the emptiness.) It's a quick visual depiction of Thror's uncontrollable gold lust to give him a Scrooge McDuck room, sure, instead of anything with an actual organizational system (normally, I assume dwarves are big on sorting their vaults if they have one). Super big columns and hallways and staircases do somewhat effectively communicate the "lost glory" of Moria (I am very fond of these movies!!!), even if I also think it's not as interesting as it could have been. And the other obvious purpose of big, open warehouse-like spaces is 1) it's easier to animate the big creatures moving around in them generally and 2) it allows the films to show off the full-bodied visual spectacle of their big creatures.

But I think it would have also kicked ass to put Smaug in Erebor's former Royal Opera House or something, some enormous theatre decorated across generations. That could be big! The ART (statues, fountains, banners, windows, general architecture) that you could put on the exterior, which has had its face ripped open for the dragon to get inside? The ART that you could put INSIDE (mosaics, murals, and more) as Bilbo sneaks inside? Ohhh, you could include so many potential lore references with thematic relevance!

Also, Bilbo could get jump-scared by old articulated stage puppets or something. IT'S THE DRAGON-! Oh, no, it's some old opera prop. (Yes, we're talking more about an actual adaptation of "The Hobbit" rather than fanfiction concepts now.)

Sure, there's raw material treasure and coins hoarded here in this place, but there would also be musical instruments and toys and household tools and cookware and fancy dishes, wedding jewelry and anniversary gifts and family shrines and festival costumes, fountain statues and street lamps and mailboxes and business signs, and other evidence that people really LIVED here. These are all ordinary objects that Bilbo recognizes from the Shire.

We could tie these objects directly back to objects we saw featured in Bilbo's home early in this adaptation, which he was trying to "protect" from the dwarves during their "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates" song. There are half-burned portraits of people's late parents here too. Did he think that there weren't any dwarves who made doilies or handkerchiefs embroidered with flowers? Of course they made things like that too.

It's perfectly symbolic to, say, place Smaug's bed in an area like the king's throne room. The dragon is now the King Under The Mountain. But I think it would be deliciously haunting to have the throne room of Erebor be empty, the throne half-broken, the silver stripped from the walls and moved elsewhere, because Smaug doesn't care about Thror's old audience chamber. What's a dwarf king to a dragon? He burns the same as all the others. The dragon has instead made his bed in a beautiful public place of art and culture that was for the people, by the people, surrounded by the lovingly crafted belongings of the ordinary people he killed. Gold is gold to a dragon whether it's in a coin or a candlestick.

I think if you really want to sell one of the key messages of "The Hobbit", which in my opinion is: "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." then you ought to throw yourself behind EREBOR being a place where food and cheer and song had value, not just the Shire. Thorin isn't lost at the end because he's a dwarf and dwarves don't value such things, but because he as a specific person who makes the mistake of weighing pride and gold over people, and he comes to regret that on his deathbed.

So, back to the fanfiction idea, I think that Erebor had music again in it as soon as dwarves started living in it again. It will take decades and decades before the Royal Opera House is half as splendid as it was before, and there is a performance there with beautiful costumes and puppets and sets comparable to those that came before, some traditional historical show that is part of specific seasonal holiday for dwarves. But that very first winter, when the future still looked grim, I think the dwarves cleared out a small stage and cast the roles of this traditional musical retelling of their history among them, based on who knew the parts best, because they aren't just miners and smiths and soldiers, and there was music again in Erebor that winter despite all the damage that the dragon did.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

spent a good hour reading up on your Not What He Seems AU, it’s such a perfect mix of angst and whimsy! Ford waking up to find 30 years have passed in the blink of an eye is is the kind of body horror terrifying i eat up, as an avid enjoyer of time travel and its inherent tragedy.

i got a few questions, if you’ll indulge me:

- what kinds of tattoos you think Bill has gotten over the years? i think i saw some arm bands in one of your pieces, but i’d love to hear if you have any specific ideas for placements or images. if he’s doing it for the safe pain experience, i’d think there are some pretty big/detailed pieces involved? and do you think the pain helps ground him somewhat, to find and fit better in the boundaries of the body?

- in the show, Stan feels a lot of guilt for stealing his brother’s identity and he kinda thinks of himself as a fraud, an actor. do you think Bill ever feels guilty for the same? or would he just miss Ford a lot, without the Stan-specific aspect of pretending to be “the better one”?

also any fun tidbits you’ve been rotating in your head lately! it’s impressive how specifically it seems like you’ve thought out how Bill’s presence would affect the canon show events, while trying to keep them as unchanged as possible. also StanFraud is the funniest, most perfect thing I’ve ever heard!

Thank you!! I’ve always enjoyed writing horror based on human response, so Ford’s perspective is probably one of the most fascinating to me in this AU, although, all of it is fascinating and enjoyable to explore, really!

— I haven’t worked them all out yet, but I know for a fact he has a tattoo of the Cipher Wheel on his back, the arm bands as you mentioned, a hyper-realistic tattoo of his ribs where his ribs would be (if that makes sense), and eyes on the back of his hands. Honestly, I’d be open to suggestions for him! I imagine him having some more grotesque, detailed tattoos that reflect the nightmare realm as well. And yes, the pain definitely helps ground him. It also gives him a sense of control as well, in a situation where he has none.

— If he does feel guilty, it’s a complicated kind of guilt. I don’t even think he’d fully process that he’s feeling guilty. It’s this sort of gnawing feeling he can’t get rid of, and it starts the longer he gets to know Dipper and Mabel — he never really felt it before that. He absolutely misses Ford though. He can’t define that feeling either. I’ve said before that he looks at Dipper strangely, and that’s because Dipper reminds him of Ford in certain moments, eager for discovery!

He and Stan never really talk about it, but the have both acknowledged missing Ford before.

Bill’s response was vague though, not an ‘I miss him too’, but an ‘I think I do too.’ He isn’t sure what to make of that.

Bill Cipher doesn’t feel remorse, or miss people, he does everything with intention and he’s never made mistakes. Or, that’s what he’s meant to be. Maybe he has gone soft.

And Tidbits! I have a few! Not as many as usual, only because Arcane’s been taking up a bit of my brain space lately, but I hope these shall suffice anyhow:

(And quickly, thank you again, I think way too hard on all the small details and how Bill’s presence would have a knock on effect. It makes me happy to see it get noticed!)

— In the early days of Bill being trapped, Stan obviously doesn’t open the Mystery Shack, and ends up having to take a few odd jobs around town instead. He’s earned a bit of a reputation for being a decent handyman because of that, and even now, old timers of the town will still come to Stan if they need something fixing, especially cars. He complains about getting too old for it, but he never says no. Money is money! It’s also interesting to think about how the little things would impact his relationship with the townsfolk and how they view him. He’s always been Stanley to them. He’s never had to pretend otherwise.

— I’ve toyed around with making the Blind Eye a bigger threat than they are in canon, being as the kids would have no reason to look into Old Man McGucket. I’ve also toyed around with McGucket ending up slightly different to canon, his mind still broken, but his motivation different, with him being aware early on that the man he sees isn’t Ford, and is in fact the beast he fears and tried to erase from his mind. A more antagonistic Fiddleford who’s been trying to get rid of Bill for years now would actually be really fun? If I can make it work, and make the Blind Eye work in this way, I’ll lean into it! For now though, it’s just an idea I’m throwing around.

— Vague ‘episode’ idea that exists within my brain is Bill accidentally starting a mini cult again after telling some sort of lie that catches on, and it ends up being a Mabel-Bill bonding plot-line as she tries to convince him to just be honest before this whole cult thing gets taken too far. I also love the idea of Bill making a comment about this being like 1952 all over again. He makes comments like that all the time. Surely he’s just joking!

— Another vague ‘episode’ idea I have is Bill taking Dipper and Mabel to the supernatural underground market of Gravity Falls under Stan’s nose, trying to prove he’s the cooler Uncle, and that he can handle the two kids by himself. This goes about as well as you’d expect. Stan isn’t too happy to find out Bill got Dipper and Mabel in trouble, as he tried to get them to do more and more risky things.

— Bill will sometimes start speaking in Euclydian without realising, especially when it comes to cursing, and no one knows how he’s making those sounds with his mouth. Stan’s actually started picking up some of the meanings in context and can roughly gauge what Bill might be saying.

[altcvnningham]

waning moon

helen park x madam shell

summary: helen park sees the cracks in her lover's façade. (inspired by @mickstart and their amazing post on perhaps the most underrated ship of all time??)

tags/cw: nsfw, wlw, angst, pre-cw, betrayal (but vaguely unspecified), light choking, younger woman/older woman, age gap, references to coercion, vague references to abuse of authority, so much bird imagery, doomed sapphics wc: 1.1k

a/n: i literally read @mickstart's park x shell (shellen???) post and got possessed, blacked out for an hour and wrote this. i have 0 memory of how i got here or what this means and though it isn't like 100% what the post was talking about it DID inspire me to spill out this ramble ab a character who has 0 canon appearances outside of dialogue. sorry for pretentious purple prose and rough editing!! it's 12am forgive me

She doesn’t know when she sees the change, but it slips in slow and sweet, like a paling knife glinting in the moonlight. How sand sifts to the bottom of an hourglass, she too feels just as suffocated under the weight of borrowed time.

Yet Shell’s eyes are paler still even in the dark, the waning moon of this interminable night, one that feels to Helen Park like the bookend of something. An answer, unspoken, but as implicit as though it had been there all along, a truth she’d known deep down but refused to acknowledge. And why would she? How could she? It had been three long years since Shell took her under her wing, her pretty little bird, three years that had changed everything. Irreparably. Even now as Park finds the pieces of it all scattered and frayed with Shell’s silent betrayal, she sees the beauty in each and every one, too besotted with the finer details to bear looking at the bigger picture.

Shell is lying.

She knows, more certain than she has ever been of anything in her life. As the older woman climbs languid atop her narrow hips, smothered in perfume bergamot and liquorice, plum coloured lips close over her own in a lazy mimicry of a kiss. Helen parts open her mouth, as she had her legs countless times, like a good little protégé, showing her madam just what she’s learned. All for her. Tongue hot as she kisses back with hooded, half-open eyes, curling around Shell’s like a proclamation. I know what you are. I know what you’re doing.

(And do you know, how powerless I am to stop you? As if I’d even try?)

And Shell knows it too. In the dark of this Parisian hotel room, blinds drawn to cast away the world’s prying eyes, she can see it on the girl’s face plain as day. Sweet Helen is a pretty thing, much too clever for her own good, but wears her heart on her sleeve, with eyes as big and shiny as a doe’s- and now hunting season had come for her sweet girl, and how wide they had looked at Shell upon her return, hands smothered in blood. Blood that she hadn’t bothered to scrub, knowing Helen had likely smelled it coppery on the air when she’d walked in. Her fingers are still tinged pink with it, even as she traipses them up the girl’s waist, cupping the plush undersides of her breasts.

That is to say, Helen isn’t the best at hiding her expressions. It’s what Shell had loved about her. The shrill gasps when Shell would come up behind her, grasping her waist in lieu of a polite excuse me; the way she’d avert her eyes shyly when she’d caught hers across a room, crowded, empty; how she’d been so young when Shell had met her, blushing like a schoolgirl at the mere whisper of praise; and how when Shell had asked her but a month later if she’d ever been touched before- properly, darling girl, like a lover might- Helen had flushed red and bright as a virgin. Perhaps she had been, too proud to admit it. For a girl who is as sharp as a knife and twice as lethal, Shell had held in her hands a mourning dove, cooing softly in her palm, willing to piece together its nest there. Right there. With her.

Now, not so much. Her songbird doesn’t sing as she used to, her eyes parsing through the fog she’d been happy to let Shell pull over them. Helen sees her for what she is now, and they both know it.

It isn’t a strange thing, what she’s doing. Not at all irregular. It’s a gesture Shell had exercised over her innumerable times before, a kind of sordid foreplay, staking her claim over her. Shell’s hands lay flat upon Helen’s sternum, her heart thrumming steady but beating violent as a war drum; the older woman smiles- how well she’s taught her. Calm, girl, slow breaths. Don’t let them see you falter. Don’t let them feel you shiver. Don’t let them hear you breathe. In the face of fear, Helen had grown around herself flesh of stone, unyielding. That doesn’t change, not even around Shell.

But this isn’t a test. This isn’t one of her many lectures, her teachings. Very rarely does Madam Shell separate work from pleasure, seeing the two overlap rather conveniently; but for Helen she had all the time in the world. Perhaps not after tonight, given what they both know now. But pleasure is a special thing she keeps locked in a drawer for Helen to pry open and play in, rifle curious fingers through until they snag on something that piques her interest.

And yet it always ends the same way. Like this. The older woman atop her, faraway look in her eye, warbled smile on her lips. Hands around neck.

Her fingers slide slow, deft, thumb parted to curl her hand around the pale column of Helen’s throat. And she can do nothing but be still for her mentor, her lover, holding her breath in wide-eyed submission, a devotion that spoke beyond words, beyond meaning. A kind of reverence she knows only Shell would understand, a stillness like prey clutched within a lioness’ maw. Playing dead, prettily.

Shell’s eyes fix upon her, steel grey boring into vivid green, alight with something akin to amusement; in the daytime, Helen mistakes the glint for adoration, something like love, when she’s drunk enough on Shell’s affections to believe it.

Now, in the waning moon of their last night together- as they are, as they could have been, if only she didn’t know what she knows at the very pit of her being is true- she recognises the errant flicker for what it is. Kindling. A struck match, willing to burn it all down, even if it means taking sweet Helen with her. Her mourning dove. Cast to the fire like everything else. For a terrifying moment, Park isn’t even sure she’d much mind it at all. Ashes to ashes, as they say.

And as Shell squeezes her hand soft and gentle around her favourite girl’s neck, Helen surrenders her head against the pillow, spilling back with a moan shrill like a song. It’s the last time she knows she’ll ever sing for her again, so she makes sure it’s a good one.

[chongoblog]

Remembering that Mario and Luigi canonically have a telepathic connection to each other.

[tsururoach]

Miseternea for my oneshot "For Mercy Has Arrived." on ao3.

Between unfinished rituals and broken names, Misericorde finds Eternea again on a plane that's not quite reality. AU

There is no value in a name, after all.

[braveburned]

I think the implication GGY has in which gregory has somehow fallen under glitchtrap's influence and is luring kids to the pizzaplex for him / vanny can be done in an interesting way . however!

[steelycunt]

I’m not saying that a lot of Regulus fans are only interested in him because they picture him as a Timothee Chalamet insert and wouldn’t give half a fuck about the character if that fancast didn’t exist but… oh wait that is what I’m saying.

yeah i mean. i definitely think there's something in that lol honestly. as ive said before i never really got the interest in regulus i just couldnt care less about the guy he genuinely has zero canon character but. simultaneously i can see how the little that we do know about him makes him an interesting character and i can see why people enjoy the idea of him as a blank slate that you can superimpose nearly any traits you want on to--treating regulus as essentially an oc gives you lots of room for creation. its for these exact reasons that he is of no interest to me personally, and i really don't like the common conceptualisation of him that has emerged from popular headcanon consensus (especially when it involves stripping his character of all agency and half the things that could arguably make him compelling in order to gloss over the fact that he was a death eater) but thats a matter of opinion i suppose. thats a me problem. its just not my cup of tea.

the timothee chalamet thing irritates me for the same reason the ridiculous instagram model/influencer/celebrity fancasts for most characters irritate me, because one of the ONLY things we know about regulus is that he is 'less handsome than sirius'. like ok why not work with that. especially with a character like him where there is virtually nothing to work with. like please explain to me why you refuse to accept that im genuinely curious. why is that the aspect of his character you are so firmly refuting lol.

all in all, if the character is only likeable or interesting or a convincing love interest if you have to pretend they were actually super conventionally attractive, maybe they're just not that likeable or interesting or well-suited to the character you're trying to pair them off with. its a personal thing again i am just not interested in reading/writing about a cast of characters who are all meticulously tailored to conform to beauty standards i do not respect. the minute u try to convince me all your characters are super hot n yassified it all feels less real to me sorry i care less about them. im bored of hot characters i think all fictional characters should be made to look like normal everyday people and i think everyone should be less afraid of so-called ugliness i triple dog dare u

[rahbid]

i feel like canon characters/writers. never give my ocs a chance in the sense of power and combat ( without asking me about her feats or for explainations or her skillset/abilities ) and it's starting to make me Sad.

i understand that it's more difficult to quantify ocs since one doesn't have their immediate canon to rely on but im like ... here. to answer questions. and i don't wanna have a pissing contest or argue or fight with people, i just want a fair shake and to be listened to.

[the-acid-pear]

I have yet to keep inspecting the sweepstakes, I need some air and food first, but I might as well share what I've been thinking about Mike today, because I heard of an interpretation saying Mike was a camera man for Spamton which ... Is very interesting. Like for me this makes me think of Mike as someone who admired Spamton, someone way smaller than him, definitely younger imo, who simply excitedly followed along with the orders given. I mean, up to a certain point. I mean this feeling is reinforced in the q&a when asked about Mike, that makes Spamton get very defensive, almost protective. In my eyes it almost creates this almost platonic familiar bond dynamic whatever. But like this is just a shot in the dark, bc what we know is, 3 lines, period. But if when chapter 3, 4 and 5 come out and Mike is there and I'm right about these things then I'm gonna feel like a god tbh.

[lizard-queen-izzy]

Me: I have like. Six(6)? TMA fic wips rn of varying lengths and commitment levels, I don't need another one.

The tags on that post:

Me: ... Well if you're going to enable me!

Yknow what I'm thinking of actually? I'm thinking of an au where Tim survives the Unknowing and becomes an avatar of the Desolation. But he doesn't come back to the Archives or the Institute. He's free, so why would he? No longer marked by the Eye. I do imagine him sitting by Jon in the hospital whenever someone wasn't there, leaving just in time to never be spotted. Being just out of sight to hear Jon wake up, to hear how devastated he is at the knews everyone thinks he's dead. But he still doesn't show his face. Because he's earned a break, time to figure out where he's going next and what he's going to do. So he does. Can't go back to his flat, can't go back to the Institute, so where does he go? [I'm so glad you asked] He goes to Sasha's old flat. One of the firm memories he has of her is where she lived, so he goes there. It's empty, seems like it has been since she died. He lives there for the duration if season 4, getting used to his new life, figuring out what it means for him. And deciding how(/if) he's going to reconnect.

And then the Eyepocalypse happens. And he's thrown into a wasteland of chaos and fear, but it can't hurt him. Because he's part of it now. He decides to set out to find Jon. Because if anyone knows what's going on, it's him.

[mbat]

wait ok. taleblr society do yall still think about katrina. i still think about katrina

[faerociousbeast]

hmmmm.hmmhmhmhmhmhmmmmmmm i think ive figured it out

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓌𝓁 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ vaguely suggestive bits ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ pet names ( darlin’ + sweetheart :3 )

previous part ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ next part

it’s late—you know so because the sky has turned to a deep navy. you can hear the crickets chirping through the open window, feel the cool night breeze whisper against your skin. beyond those telling signs, your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy. they’re screaming at you to close them but you know that if you do, you’ll fall asleep in a second. you can’t do that now, not when you’re on the phone giving your weekly update to your friend back home. 

“so,” her voice crackles over the line, “how are things in farmville?”

you snort at meg’s nickname for the little town you’ve come to know as a second home. as much as she pokes fun at the idea of having a ranch to run away to, she’s been supportive of your decision to retreat here for solace. she keeps you in the loop when it comes to the drama unfolding in the office and listens attentively when you tell her what you’re up to on the farm.

you have a feeling she might be offended that you didn’t tell her this bit sooner.

“fine.” you draw the word out, rolling onto your other side on the couch as if repositioning will give you enough time to stall. despite not being able to see her face, you imagine that the woman is wearing an expression that says something along the lines of i know you’re hiding something. even through the phone, she can see through you. “i might have gotten a concussion a few days ago.”

she gasps and you can hear her slap her hand over her mouth. you’re sure if she could, she’d reach through the phone and shake you by the shoulders before thinking better of it and rushing out a string of apologies. though, she can’t, so she settles on questioning you instead. “what happened? are you okay? why the hell are you just now telling me?”

you relay the series of events to her—how it happened, boothill finding you, your visit to the doctor, and boothill playing nurse since then. her worry seems to dissipate as you explain and by the time you’re done, she’s laughing.

“what are you giggling about?” you ask her, but a little part of you already knows. boothill’s name always seems to make its way into your conversations and since the start of these weekly calls, meg has held onto the belief that you’re harboring a crush on the farmhand. you brush her off every time she suggests that you like him but like a leech, the thought always latches on and lingers.

“probably hard to deny your feelings now, huh?” you can hear the smile in her voice. you pucker your lips in annoyance. you didn’t think telling her about the way boothill makes you feel would result in meg throwing it back in your face at any given moment. though, you suppose you can’t be surprised. she’s frustrated that you’ll admit those feelings to her and not him, that you won’t act on them. “he’s already taking care of you like you’re his girlfriend—how romantic!”

“it’s not romantic,” you tell her, shaking your head, “he’d do that for anyone.”

“even better!” meg squeals. the shrill sound makes you pull the phone away from your ear and you only return it to its former position when the woman lowers her voice. “if he’s like that with everyone, that means he isn’t trying to impress you. he’s just a compassionate, caring guy who happens to have a thing for you.”

you chew on your cheek as you contemplate her words. you’ve never doubted that he’s a good guy—you’ve seen too many instances of his big heart in action to think otherwise, though, the part about boothill having a “thing” for you is a bit harder to believe. sure, he’s called you pretty numerous times, unintentionally held your hands on a couple of occasions, but that means nothing, at least when it comes to whatever feelings he might have for you. you’ve convinced yourself that most of the things he does that make your heart flutter or your cheeks burn are simply to get a reaction out of you—a little embarrassment for the sake of his entertainment.

“ugh, when are you going to be brave and spill your guts to him?” meg’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“never! i’m not telling him anything.” you close your eyes and take a deep breath to ground yourself. “i don’t know how long i’ll be here and, more importantly, i have no idea if he even likes me.”

“and you’ll never find out if you keep running away.”

you’re about to tell her that you aren’t running away or avoiding anything but you press your lips together before the words can hit the air. because you have been—you can recall a number of times you have in the past and you’re even thinking about it now, leaving without coming to terms with your feelings or figuring out if boothill reciprocates them.

“i’m not—” not running away? not going to tell him? not ready to tell him? you huff out a sigh, one that’s a mixture of frustration and confusion. “not now, meg.”

“that’s fine,” she assures you, her voice soft. “i just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“i know.” you nod even though she can’t see you.

she’s right. you’ll regret it if you don’t say anything, if you go home without facing your feelings head-on. the what ifs and what could have beens will follow you there, mercilessly haunting your mind.

“it’s getting late,” you tell meg, “i think i’m going to go to bed.”

“sure,” she hums. there’s a brief pause like she wants to say more but she settles on, “good night.”

“g’night.” you pull your phone away to end the call and toss the device on the other end of the couch. you should go upstairs and get in bed like you planned to but all these thoughts so fresh in your head make you feel like falling asleep won’t come easy tonight. slumping against the arm on the couch, you let out a groan, one quiet enough to not wake your grandpa and boothill upstairs but loud enough to grant you the slightest bit of relief.

though, the sound is cut off by another. it comes from the kitchen and you sit up to peer over the back of the couch to see if you’re hearing things—you’d prefer it that way. your fantasy comes to an end when you see boothill standing at the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and closing the door once he’s finished.

he meets your gaze and shoots you a smile before uncapping the water and taking a few gulps. it’s strange seeing him at this hour; he usually sleeps early so he can wake up with the sun. you rarely ever see him wearing anything but his jeans and his top of choice but the look is traded in for pajamas now—if you can call nothing but a pair of boxers pajamas.

you gasp at the sight and turn around. he just wanders around the house half-naked? carelessly risks running into you while wearing nothing but his underwear? you might not have heard him but he certainly must have seen you stretched out on the couch or at the very least heard you talking to meg on the phone.

the call.

you quickly turn around to face him once more.

“how long have you been there?” the question comes out rushed but you’re frantic to know if he was around to hear you talking about him.

he shrugs and swallows, setting his bottle on the counter before leaning against it. “i don’t know. long enough to hear you’re having some boy troubles.”

the confession makes your heart jump into your throat. you choose not to expand on it, instead reprimanding him for eavesdropping. “it’s rude to listen in on conversations you aren’t part of.”

“my apologies.” he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i just didn’t wanna interrupt.”

you stare him down in an attempt to read his expression and the look in his eyes. his perpetual smile is in place like usual but nothing else about his countenance seems knowing. he’s either very good at hiding it or he didn’t pick up on the fact that he was the one you’re talking about.

“want some advice?” boothill speaks up, tilting his head in a question of its own.

you look at him for a second before a laugh bubbles up from your chest, permeating the air. boothill’s smile slowly falls and that’s the last you see of him before turning your back to him. it seems a little more polite to laugh at him if it isn’t in his face.

he doesn’t stay at his place in the kitchen, feet carrying him to the back of the couch. you’re still laughing when he gets there. he’s never heard you laugh like this before—not at anything he’s said or done. as captivated as he is by the sound, he’s a touch more curious as to what brought it about. a cushion in between you, he leans over the back of the couch to ask, “what’s so funny?”

“i’m sorry.” you try to clear the humor from your voice but it lingers with your explanation. you turn your head to look boothill in the eye. “it’s just—what do you know about problems of the male variety?”

“hello?” he straightens up and gestures to himself and it’s only then that you remember how…undressed he is. that’s enough to sober you up from your humor. “you’re looking at a man, sweetheart.”

you don’t need him to tell you that—you’re more than aware of that. you just meant that he doesn’t seem like the type to help people out of romantic hardships, rather, he’s the one who causes them. strangely enough, though, you consider hearing his perspective. after all, he is the subject of your “boy troubles” as boothill called them.

“so, how about it?” he rounds the couch and plops down on it beside you, leaving a safe amount of space between the two of you. you hold his gaze, light gray irises glowing like stars in the darkness of the living room. “wanna hear my opinion?”

your heart rate quickens and you can’t tell why. because he’s this close to you and practically naked? because those gray eyes are boring into you, urging you to hear him out? because his advice could be the courage you need to admit your feelings or the very deterrent to keep you from doing so? 

maybe you aren’t quite brave enough to spill your guts yet but it’s time for you to stop being so scared of the what ifs. “okay, go for it.”

that seems to be the answer boothill was looking for, if his growing smile is any evidence. he doesn’t waste any time sharing his insight. “i say throw caution to the wind, tell him how you feel. and if he doesn’t feel the same way, well then, that’s his loss. because you, darlin’, are a catch. any man would be lucky to have you.”

you know boothill isn’t one to sugarcoat his words. every word he says, he means. is that the case here, too? any man would be lucky to have you—would he feel the same if that man was him?

“i’m headin’ to bed.” he groans as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head, mouth falling open in a yawn. you watch him silently, pondering his words. he doesn’t comment on your silence, doesn’t bother to tease you about your staring. all he does is offer you a wink before telling you, “sweet dreams.”

just as quietly as he appeared, he’s gone.

you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding. instead of following boothill’s lead and going to sleep, you rest your head on the arm of the couch and turn your eyes up to the ceiling. your heart is still beating wildly against your rib cage but it’s not bad nerves this time around, it’s anticipation.

courage it is.

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[roxtron]

I was trying to think of why this made sense to me- the fact that the mimic is intended to be a larger threat but Ennard still had more impact/presence. I think the biggest issue is buildup, or lack of.

I mean, in sister location you spend the whole game avoiding the animatronics while also causing or witnessing the horrible things they go through, you're able to feel some level of sympathy for them. Though for some people that may just make them even more of a threat considering they obviously want revenge. Even though you were being lied to when led there, you get a sense that you still know these characters through the interactions you've had with them, genuine or not. Everything that happened up to this point still matters and gives you a reason to think back.

As much as I have tried to make theories or analysis on the mimic based on the lines we're given.. It doesn't really do the same. The majority of its voice lines as gregory (so basically all of its voice lines..) are just irrelevant "do this thing for me" that's completely skippable in the long run. Sure it's pretending to be a scared kid but we can't really gather any of its own emotions through that because not only are we unsure if there's any genuine thoughts there, but the dialogue focuses so closely on the goal we get no real characterization out of it like 90% of the time.

At least when Baby (or at least her voice?) was guiding you she still had moments where she gave small information, or sarcastic remarks, etc. Things that not only build the story but also show how the character reacts to these subjects. Her seemingly passive aggressive attitude towards Ballora, how passive aggressive she acts towards Mike on Night 4 in the spring lock suit, sure she tells you your goal and the game mechanics, but she also does so much more than that. I know people tend to complain about how Sister location is like 70% dialogue (or more depending how biased you are on the subject) but that dialogue at least serves a purpose! There's still plenty to be analyzed there and work off of, not only do we get pieces of lore from it.. (baby's thoughts on the scooper, the mention of the springlock suit and it "not being used the way it was meant to be used," her dialogue about the day Elizabeth died, characterization through her tone of voice or sarcastic remarks, etc!) But depending on how far you look into it you can get at least a baseline understanding of the characters and their goals.

But the mimic..? Look, you can check the post I've made about it before, I've tried analyzing his voice lines to see if they hold any purpose beyond just guiding you, and honestly? I'm grasping at straws on most of it. A lot of it is pretty irrelevant, I think I only found maybe 4-6 voice lines that matter? And I definitely had to do some reaching to find any potential ties to if anything the mimic said mattered to itself or to gregory, and while I stand by my analysis of it potentially giving us more information about what happened to Gregory down there.. not only does the dialogue barely give us any new information that the environmental clues didn't (backpack, handprint on the vent, etc.) But it doesn't develop the mimic. It develops Gregory. Which, hello, Gregory's one of my favorite characters lol, I'd be happy about that, but for the mimic itself? That's really bad. It makes it feel like everything you've done up until this point is meaningless development-wise. Once it's revealed you're not saving Gregory, it's kinda like, well, what was the point? I'm not talking generally- obviously the mimic being freed is supposed to be bad, but my point is that there's not a lot to look back on and feel like it served a purpose towards building up the ending. Sure you can look back and say "Oh yeah that makes sense, Gregory was kind of whining a lot more than Security Breach." but that's not really enough to justify it? Going into this a LOT of people were already theorizing it wasn't Gregory. Popular opinion at the time seemed to be that it was Vanny or Glitchtrap or Burntrap or whatever. That it tied into a previous villian using Gregory as a lure to get a new victim, someone else to trap into their plans. And that was cool honestly, I might've even preferred it! At least Glitchtrap has BEEN built up as a villain (I mean, I wish he had more screentime and all, but there was development even if it could've been expanded on.) and whether or not the Princess Quest ending is canon it still could've worked, using Cassie as a replacement for Vanessa. Though it may have been a bit repetitive plot-wise, it was a cool idea at least, besides it's not too different from what people are theorizing the current ending means.. Okay, i got sidetracked a bit. Point is, the theories people had at the time, they led somewhere! the twist of it not being the real Gregory isn't really enough to justify all this because 1. most people saw it coming and 2. even if you didn't see it coming, you can't really look back on the experience and feel like there's any new information to be given from it.. For there to be so much buildup for this, for most people to already be actively wondering what was using Gregory's voice and why, only for it to be.. a character the majority of the fanbase would be unaware of due to it only existing within the books up until this point. For anyone who didn't read the books (which is most people) this reveal was likely going to be unsatisfying, to say the least. Hoping for an answer and only getting more questions in return. That's not new for this series, sure, but it can be a bit disappointing at times. Depending on who you are and how that kind of ending makes you feel, I think most people can at least agree the way it was executed would've left people with mixed reactions.

Even if you did read the books, it still didn't really answer anything, did it? Sure, okay, the mimic is here. Now what? Is it the same mimic with the same backstory as the books? Are we gonna be twisting the backstory from the book universe to the games universe? What does any of this have to do with the story that was built up so far? From my perspective, it seems just as out of nowhere as if Eleanor was dropped into the next game. Most people would only know her as the villain of one specific story in the books, and for a one-off villain to suddenly be inserted into the plot instead of the villain we've actually been fighting this whole time.. it just comes out of nowhere, it really does. And all that gets twisted up even more with the question of how the mimic connects to glitchtrap. It's either replacing a pre-established villain and saying "it was this guy we know next to nothing about the whole time!" which is just really unsatisfying because it once again feels like everything up until this point has meant nothing, because there is no solid connection to tie the mimic to glitchtrap in a way that makes it feel, y'know, connected? They feel like two separate entities, whether they are or not, it's still unsatisfying. And even if they are two separate entities, then it's killing off Glitchtrap, a pre-established villain that posed a solid threat with semi-understandable motives.. for this wild card that hasn't been established whatsoever within the games. It feels like killing off glitchtrap in the middle of his arc because people got tired of him before he even got to do much. It felt like glitchtrap was still building up in my opinion, only for them to suddenly get rid of him. Once again, it makes everything feel pointless. I think the TLDR here is that Ennard served a purpose, even if the things they did were to trick you, it wasn't for nothing. You could still get pieces of lore, characterization, and motives from your previous interactions. But the mimic doesn't have any of that. It has basically no established motive besides "use Gregory's voice to let me out" and then what? Get out to the larger world? just kill people for fun or get revenge on specific people? What does it want from there? We don't know, which makes it difficult to care. On top of all that its previous interactions do feel like they were for nothing, there's very little to be analyzed from them and it just feels like a waste. It was all a trick, so, why does any of it matter? There's very little to be taken away from it beyond the fact that it's fake.

✨🤖An endoskeleton that dresses like a clown and tricks someone by mimicking a child's voice into freeing them from an underground basement.🤡✨

[morganbritton132]

I love the trope that Steve is fluent in Italian, but I almost never see it paired with Robin ‘canonically speaks four languages’ Buckley.

Like, when Steve started at Scoops Ahoy, he already knew it was going to suck but then it turns out, his co-worker hates him. She never talks to him unless its to tell him to get something out of the freezer or that she’s going on break. It’s miserable.

The saving grace is that Robin is a talker. Not to him, but in general. She’s always muttering under her breath about something, just not always in English.

Steve took French in high school and was pretty decent at it. He’s been speaking Italian since he was a kid, and there’s enough overlap with Spanish that he can get the gist of what she’s saying. The latin is lost on him but for the most part, there’s never a time that he doesn’t have at least a vague idea of what she’s muttering about.

He doesn’t tell her this because she’s sarcastic, and funny, and a little mean when she thinks no one understands her. He’s afraid that if she knows than she’ll stop talking altogether and if he has to listen to the three minute repeat of nautical sounds they play over the PA, he’ll die.

One time when Steve is striking out with a pretty girl, Robin mutters under her breath in French that the girl was beautiful. Steve’s not at the point where ‘she’s hot’=lesbian so he tries to make her feel better like, “Hey, you know, some guys are into the mean nerdy thing you have going on.”

Robin’s like, “Gross.”

The jig is up when Steve’s Nonna comes in and he takes her order in Italian.

[starshipdecay]

Toon Zelda redesigns! I've never been fond of the Toon Zelda design, and these girls deserve some individuality. Design notes and rambles below the cut :D

(time to turn the proper grammar off i aint capitalizing all this. warning: i am verbose)

first up, tmc zelda!

shes the one most like toon zelda, since i felt like the vibes fit the *most* (though not a lot). also, with her place on the timeline, i could justify a lot of bits, like the wings and the cape

the cape! obvs it comes from the toon zelda base design, but also it involves skyloftian fashion! i take the timeline as a challenge, and i once saw a take somewhere that the skyloftians all wear their family crests (most often birds lol) on their person. zelda here (and link too) do just that, wearing their family crests on little caplets. on the back is, of course the royal crest

i went very cutesy princess for her. tmc has such a *whimsical* vibe that i feel is very. muted? by the fact its stuck with the toon style. so i wanted to put in that vibe here. also her sprites make it look like her skirt is super poofy, so how could i not?

curly hair: i wanted something interesting, and most zeldas have straight hair. so! adds to the cuteness

i didnt draw it so well but she (and link) both have very sleepy expressions. zelda especially just has a sleepy expression in her sprite, its quite adorable.

shes not as decked out as other princesses, cuz i see tmc taking place before the royal family really starts to get *royal* as we see it. shes still of course got a tiara and some embroidery tho.

Tetra! her base design isnt all that changed from the original. her name is a fun hc of mine tho. i think "von Hyrule" sounds better as a surname than just "hyrule". shes not zelda, but shes still a descendant.

(WW) princess z (as i call her)

I went more oot zelda vibes for her, since she would be closer, temporally, to oot. i also went very warm, since ive never seen the flood as a *warm* endeavor.

shes got the shoulder danglies, as most zeldas have shoulder armor of some kind. the danglies instead of actual armor are supposed to kind of evoke a royal sea captain kind of vibe.

shes ghostly, with a fish-eyed stare. shes been dead and gone for a long time. shes also a bit taller and a few years older than tetra (as of ww). shes just some spectre the king saw in tetra, not at all a close match

tetra, being smaller than princess z, doesnt fit into the clothes. the dress is too big for her (as is in canon gd that skirt is WAY too long for her), the coat is baggy. the role of a princess *literally* does not fit her.

the ribbons! theyre my replacement for the wings, and they represent the wind in the game! since its represented by white lines, the ribbons are a perfect symbolic match. (also, a note, tetras hair is shorter and coarser than princess z's)

i mostly bullshitted the blue panel but the vague idea i gave it was 'a hope for the triforce to give good fortunes to the people' (pictured as dots, mostly behind her arms)

Pirate Queen Tetra

ph! about a year has passed, and tetra has really grown into her own! as well as literally grown!

shes still tetra, pirate and captain, but shes incorporated that royal heritage into her identity: quite literally! she made piecemeal of the original outfit (what was left of it anyway after the fight), and added bits and pieces to her new life.

she also takes full advantage of said heritage to call herself pirate queen. its great for branding. whos gonna say she CANT go by pirate queen?

the seagull feather is from Aryll. only crew member tetra wears a trinket from (who can say no to that ball of sunshine! certainly not tetra)

not many notes. yall can see whats there. (also she still wears her hair in a bun, its just in a low bun (you can almost see it) when she wears her hat)

st zelda!

first note is: shes not a princess! shes an heiress of the company tetra had made and left behind. hence her title of Lady zelda. ("new hyrule" rly just like-- the ending of ww was *literally* that hyrule is dead and thats okay. how did they miss that :sob emoji:) also calling her Lady Zelda fits with the train vibes

shes in a 1880s style bustle dress because 1) i am OBSESSED with bustle dresses. i love them. so much. 2) the more historical vibe works really well with trains! also a lot of the other outfits in the game have late victorian vibes, so shes certainly not out of place.

her hat (and gloves): any proper lady has a hat on when going about town, however, when she gets body snatched, she pulled out her hatpin to use (ineffectively) as a weapon (she IS tetras great-great-granddaughter), causing her to lose her hat *and* hairdo.

shes still got the hatpin in her ghost form, too. she uses it to threaten people for funsies

Ribbons! on the topic of hairdo, her ribbons! visually tying her to tetras design, the ribbons here instead take on the image of train tracks, with her pin (on the left side) evoking a train engine. the pin also makes her look rich and girly. when her hair comes undone, this makes the ribbons all loose, like how the train tracks disappear in game. (the hat also kinda connects her to tetra)

thanks for reading :D i hope you liked reading this as much as i liked typing it