#maybe i just love the mystery

[catgirltoofies]

one thing about me is that i simultaneously love and hate when something in a game is completely obscured to the point where nobody really knows what's going on

I'll give two examples: ni no kuni 2 and dwarf fortress.

in ni no kuni 2, one of the major battle mechanics is the little helper army known as higgledies. higgledies are little nature spirits that can help you out in battle. you can have up to four higgledy heroes, as they're called, that will fight alongside you. how, exactly? good question!

we know a few ways. first, and most obviously, they will sometimes create rings on the ground that you can activate that will activate a higgledy skill; these are major effects like summoning a cannon or a healing aura. higgledy skills are extremely useful, but not required to win fights most of the time. second, you can absorb them to improve your skills: heroes summon followers, you can absorb followers. generally, 4 followers of a particular element will upgrade a skill to the next level. unfortunately, due to how fast-paced combat tends to be, this usage isn't particularly useful in many cases. third, they give passive benefits when you're awakened through a gold glim. and finally, they have basic attacks where they throw little spear things and do barely any damage.

this is all well and good, and seems pretty conclusive, but actually nobody really is super familiar with how things are under the hood. higgledy followers regenerate, but do they come on a timer or is it based on damage dealt? some higgledies have effects where they come back faster if they get attacked with their element. others just "automatically increase in battle" (literal quote from the tick, tock! skill). they have personalities, which do... something. tove the tenebrous is outgoing. i think that means he prefers to attack. tureen is careful, which probably means she stays closer to the player character. runcible is shy. not sure what that does. i can't find any information online about any of this. only people claiming that the ones which summon higgledy god and copy other higgledies are the best ones.

on the other hand, we have dwarf fortress, which is quite well known for its... depth, shall we say. combat is extremely complicated and not well understood, largely because it has some level of logic to it that the layperson can kind of parse but is easily confused.

to extremely oversimplify, dwarf fortress combat is mostly affected by material properties and momentum. momentum is partially affected by material properties. when a dwarf swings a hammer, every swing will be different depending on the dwarf, the hammer, and a million tiny variables, but mostly dependent on the dwarf and the hammer. a strong dwarf will swing a hammer faster, but won't be able to swing it as fast if it's too heavy. there are tons of mods for dwarf fortress that allow you to use non-standard metals for military purposes (tangent: military metals include copper, bronze, silver, iron, steel, and the fictional ones). a common assumption is that lead would make a great material for a hammer, because it's heavy.

while it is true that a lead hammer is heavier than an iron hammer, the lead hammer is also softer. in technical terms, lead has a lower impact yield, lower impact fracture, and higher impact strain-at-yield values: it can't hit as hard, and is more likely to bend. this is why lead armor would suck. it's too soft and wouldn't offer very good protection, against either impacts or cuts.

the primary difference here is that dwarf fortress actually gives us the raw numbers. we have some vague idea of which numbers are important, but we don't actually know specifically how every number is used. someone discovered a few formulae years ago, and they're probably still accurate, but there are a lot of numbers that go into it, and a lot of variables. for the layperson, combat is understood well enough to know what you should equip your dwarves with (fictional if you can, then steel, then iron, then bronze, then copper. silver is about equal to iron if used as a blunt weapon, but otherwise isn't useful for melee combat. makes pretty good bolts, though), but it doesn't quite scratch the itch that makes me want to understand. and until adventure mode comes out with arena possession i can't do any kind of investigation without finding an older version.

[seventh-district]

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks.

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

[fumifooms]

"Marchil? I guess I can see it on Chilchuck’s end, but what about Marcille’s? What makes you think she could develop feelings for him?" I’m glad you asked!

The first thing to note is that she does think highly of him

In the page on the right, literally defending his virtues and literally comparing him to Dalclan. And oh…

She does love a brooding mysterious guy who closes himself to love. But surely, Chilchuck isn’t her type at all, right? He’s not princely or knightly at all. In apperances certainly not, both looks wise and demeanor wise, but then that’s why she seeks to know him on a deeper level, to not only look shallowly.

And hmm. Chilchuck really is quite selfless isn’t he? Always looking out for others, and saving specifically her often, always making sure himself and, staying in or even running towards danger for her sometimes. Modesty is often considered heroic…

And can we talk about that drowning one… You can definitely frame the special attention as him knowing she tends to hesitate or be clumsy, and then his insistance on pulling her out of danger that she’s the healer aka the most important to keep alive, but. From the one who says that he just keeps his ass out of fights and won’t help this is a lot of risk to take, and he does die trying to pull her to safety in the dungeon rabbits chapter. And the drowning bit??? That’s when the dungeon collapses. The only reason they DON’T die of drowning here is that the water then gives way to outside. There was NO hope of pulling her to safety here and resurrections would likely not work either, he truly preferred to die with her than try to survive himself.

Sit your ass back DOWN you are in no state, self-sacrifical hero much damn

And Marcille definitely noticed this imo, after all she loves learning all she can about him, remembering things like how he hates waiting on people too. She pays attention to him and what he does and what he says. This to say that it’s notable, whatever reason for it you may think (though we know by this point at least she was already aware he was an adult though it wasn’t internalized), out of everyone it’s Chilchuck’s bed that she wants to sleep in during the Golden Kingdom stay. He’s safe and comforting to her: dependable, the defining trait in her view of him as is shown by the relationship chart in the Adventurer’s Bible.

^ Lending handkerchiefs is a romance trope btw and handkerchiefs have irl history of being used for courting. Especially in old English literature and plays like Shakespeare’s Othello, and personally I do see a lot of Shakespeare in Dalclan (nobility political drama with some romance). There’s how his cowl is a dearly beloved souvenir from his family too, there’s a lot of aesthetic tropes you can apply to him.

All this to say you can 100% romanticize Chilchuck into a princely noble guy if you try and that’s exactly what Marcille does with the wife roleplay. She doesn’t need much in the first place, she latches onto crumbs and makes aesthetic narratives out of details, give her an inch she’ll take a mile.

But what’s interesting about the shift throughout the arc of her and his relationship is that she starts out idealizing him into a little angel of a kid (shapeshifter), and she ends it idealizing him as a virtuous husband and family man instead.

And what’s doubly interesting is that in the former, she’s actively warping who he is personality and demeanor wise to fit the aesthetic, he doesn’t have that bitter pride of not asking for help and the edges have been smoothened. But what she does during the wife roleplay is something else, she acknowledges the flaws and just… Accepts them, rolls with them. She’s aware of his flaws and implements them into the narrative, but the reason why his wife left doesn’t capitalize on them even, rather Chil is chilblivious and his wife loves him very much still, she’s just testing him after having had a night of feeling out of place at his side.

And this is what separates the idealization vs romanticization, she’s not twisting him into someone else she’s just uplifting what he is and focusing on the good sides.

Marcille: "he has a shitty personality sometimes but if he was my husband I’d still cherish him" "If I were your wife I’d be overjoyed to go out with you and would get myself prettied up while you complain about me taking a long time, your friends would tell me that I’m nice and that’d make me happy, but I’d also be sad because you wouldn’t tell me that you love me enough"

He’s angry and his wife left him, he’s *flawed*, but he’s still worth hyping up, still worth having his own romance story, still has a shot of winning back his beloved. She sees him for what he is, human and real and not a carefully scripted character that fits an aesthetic, and she thinks it’s still worthy of love and admiration and fighting for

And what’s funny too is that you might expect her to cool down on him once she learns more about him but actually she only gets increasingly into his business. You tell her your age and next thing you know you promise to introduce her to your family. Give her an inch she takes a mile. And too the thing is, Senshi is equally mysterious but she doesn’t pester him like at all, asks him ONCE about his succubus and he doesn’t even answer and that’s like… It. With Chilchuck it starts off innocently enough with her wanting to know his age, hometown, the stuff she mentions having asked pre-canon. But it just keeps and keeps going and escalating. Think she’ll be satisfied now knowing you have a wife and kids, maybe she’s disillusioned now? Wrong! She wants to know their names and ages and occupations and hey how did you propose to your wife? Do you think she’ll stop after meeting them? What’s next? What will she want to know next????

She’s… Like it’s not a reach that Marcille is all over him. Like it doesn’t mean it’s romantic but she just is. She is not normal about him idk. Can you not ask him about what tongue technique he used when first kissing his wife, give the man breathing room

Marcille could literally go "if I was Chilchuck’s wife" having deeply pondered and thought out the hypothetical and people would still ask where anyone sees any romantic potential between them. Oh wait

There’s a platonic explanation for everything (almost?) in Dungeon Meshi don’t say I’m saying otherwise, but it’s definitely not like there’s nothing here to read into lol

Going off a bit more under read bc it’s my fave topic

Marcille has a whole theme with the charming prince trope with her idealization and storybook motif and Chil is kinda the "Well someone perfect like that isn’t very realistic and romance is usually more complex and that’s ok and good and flawed people can still be ✨virtuous✨" catalyst

Do you see do you see she starts canon thinking the most romantic thing is a prince charming but her arc in the end has her romanticizing an average, flawed, real and realistic family man, who’s on the poorer side and is on the verge of divorce. And that’s what he needed, too, seeing the positive of himself and the situation instead of focusing on the negative is explicitly what inspires him to hope that he might be able to reconcile with his wife, gives him the courage and self-esteem to shoot his shot.

He IS a prince figure instead that now it’s not about idealizing the grand and overt it’s about romanticizing the small things in real life!! About finding joy and beauty in things that seem normal or mundane and uplifting them to make the world feel kinder!!!!

He’s the devoted virtuous man that she wantsss not the storybook prince that’s unrealistic and could crumble like a script at any time. He’s the perfect example of a flawed realistic but virtuous & devoted & loving man. Far from a prince charming, but not fully detached from it either. Something worth fighting for despite the flawed cracks. Like literally, flawed romance being worth fighting for is literally the finale of Chilchuck and Marcille’s arc on the matter, where their separate arcs and issues intersect at the most crucial moment.

Marcille is important to Chil’s arc not only because of her optimism, but also because of her interest and knowledge in romance & matters of the heart, and that’s what he needs to both open his heart up to hope and to try to reconcile with his wife, like idk sounds gay

Their arc together is literally learning to 1) see each other for how they are and not undermining their qualities capacities etc etc while still not leaving flaws unchecked either and 2) opening up to people. Marcille LITERALLY makes Chil open his heart up to hope like idk man. What do you want from me. He’s literally the guy helping her through deconstructing novels and fantasy and rose tinted glasses and like. Deconstructing the prince charming figure into something more real but still romantically beautiful like KUI KUI STOOOOP STOP I’M ALREADY HOOKED I’M ALREADY-

 Ok fine that’s me reading into the tropes too much forgive me for being storybook brained but like. Speaking his heart out to a lone woman on a balcony, Romeo and Juliette shit, asking if she, too, doesn’t want to meet his family, madly blushing. And like she’s learned with Chilchuck it’s all in the little things, all the implications he cannot speak aloud. She does reciprocate, does blush madly back, and the first thing she does is shower him in flowers and jewelry and what in her heart is coded as romantic gifts

A lady, stashed away in a high tower by her lonesome, waiting for someone to call out to her from below… Romeo courting type shit with an offer, a heartfelt spiel, implicit confession from underneath her balcony. Offering him flowers because he succeeded in calling out to her heart…….. And they have to climb to her too…. Crazy

Doesn’t it sound like a proposal. One that’s both so storybook-like and not, contrastedly real and grounded, all about the implications rather than in your face grand gestures, "Don’t you want to meet my family?". They literally have an arc about the topic of romance and this is the climax/pinnacle of it like god?? This is @ the woman who said "Chilchuck is a shy/bashful man so I know he wouldn’t tell me he loves me, but…" btw

To quote a friend, truly the shiny secret unlockable dating sim capture target : THE DUNGEON LORD BIT WAS SO FUNNY BECAUSE HE KNEW SHE'D TAKE IT HOOK LINE AND SINKER HES THE ONE WHO GOT HER TO TURN AROUND COMPLETELY SHES LIKE. WIDE EYED FLAG RAISED???? FLAG RAISED WITH CHILCHUCK 👀👀👀‼️👀👀‼️👀

And the way that this is the culmination of their arc together… Like people are not ready for the ‘Chil calling out to dunlord Marcille on the balcony has Romeo and Juliette romance novels imagery’ take. Or the ‘their arc is about growing to see beauty even in the non-idealized, in the flawed and in the real’ take which makes it so so perfect if she were to lower her ideal from a charming elven prince to a virtuous halfling man (which she does end up romanticizing)

So there, you got to witness in real time what happens when I think about marchil for longer than 2 minutes, there are so many layers it’s a deranged rabbithole. I saw the necronomicon of subtext and it’s driving me to madness with forbidden knowledge that no one else sees

……. Like what if I told you she implicitly picked Chilchuck over a "unrealistic prince charming who’s actually disingenuous" much earlier in the story already. If she was given the choice to think through going with a guy that seems perfect and chivalrous like her succubus she’d pick Chilchuck over the other actually. If I sound insane rn tune in for my full analysis on them coming this month hopefully thank youu. Interwoven arcs of fantasy vs reality and idealization vs pessimism I love youuu

So now you know the general thesis of my planned analysis about the importance of the prince charming figure in Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc, where she romanticizes things to a sometimes worrying degree or idealize people into something easy and digestible and poetic (like Chil being a kid, and then him being a virtuous ✨✨✨husband), and how she needs to value aesthetics less and actual acts and facts more, be more grounded (like seeing people for what they are flaws and all, and accepting that people need money and not pulling through on principles of honor or unity shouldn’t get Namari shamed) and a part of that is accepting that Chilchuck is BOTH flawed and virtuous, a loving husband that still has shitty moods and fumbled his marriage so bad etc etc. So it’s like, her image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance -> realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage but he still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending. Ik I keep repeating the same point through this but I need it to be burned into everyone’s brains it has its grip on me I can’t do this. They are so special……

[majickth]

So dark, no moon, no stars, no stars No sound, just hearts and walls of art

in which Grian goes to a small town and finds that things aren't as the seem.

[bruciemilf]

Hm. Gladiator! Jason thoughts

[heshemejoshi]

i never posted the finished piece?? this is the actual first pmd fanart i ever did (before i got into oc making lol). dated december 2023.

sorry dusknoir hadn’t entered the polycule on my mind by the time i made this btw. maybe someday i’ll redraw this with him too. that would make it the redraw of a redraw as this is already redraw of art i found on an AMV from like 2011 hahajsjs

[itspileofgoodthings]

one big thing I’ve learned by 29 is that the Plan, the God’s Plan of it all I mean, is bigger than me and not just bigger than me but also bigger than my understanding of narrative threads and their limitations. And it’s bigger even than just a simple paradox, turning-on-their-head thing way of being bigger. It’s just so vast. And there is so much room for surprise and possibility and hope in that reality.

[13-nothing]

Rapid fire Inky Mystery Theories:

Bendy Shadows = Dead ink illness people (In other words the Lost Ones duuh)

(Tho last chpt descriptions made me think of Canon Bendy more than Lost Ones cause of the teeth and spines on the back, but ehhh, whatever, my statement stands)

Steven = Baby

(Don't kill me but I totally forgot about him til the last 2 chpts cause I don't reread that arc as much and he was a flash in a pan in the over arcing story. Tho I have to admit I got a little choked up realizing he died when I read it the 1st time)

Grandmama = The Eye Looking Through the Crystal Ball

(It's in my theory boards from last time buuuut there was a LOT on there and I didn't want it to get lost)

Bendy Shadows don't want to be humanoid in shape cause they aren't exactly who they were anymore. They're just the inky puddles now.

(Tho it does make me wonder what would happen if he tried to make them look specifically like who they used to be)

The Thing Demons Portal thru = Ink Realm

(Idk what to comment on here it just is)

Bendy's whole purpose is to fix the machine and BOTH of his fav activities will forever be tainted (hehe) by the fact he was created to specifically be good at them and not because he just chose them as HIS things to do.

(It's extremely sad when u think about it)

As of Chpt 268 Angelo was brought to the be with the shadows

(Wow, it's been like 80 something since that happened)

Sooo yeah that's all I got right now. Figured I'd try to get some of my theories out while before we get too far into the upcoming arc. Anyway, uh, thanks for reading and I say farewell to thee my fellow existences!

[nemmet]

thinking about what's new scooby doo fred in particular on this fine evening. he's the most 'just some guy' of all time. he likes sports but not the ones you would expect (ice hockey and wrestling). he lives with and COOKS FOR shaggy and scooby. he adores his van. he's easily embarrassed by his parents but cares so deeply about them and goes Dead Serious when they're in danger. he's such a big elvis fan that he went to a fantasy elvis camp. he almost died twice, and on both occasions scooby single-handedly saved his life. he's sad that he doesn't have a catchphrase. he refers to the rest of the gang as his family. he's easily distressed when others say his lines/come up with plans/drive the mystery machine because he's autistic and needs his routine. he panicked when fake-dating daphne as bait for a monster and ended up extensively rambling about his hayfever. he turned into a vampire that one time. he stood up and did a live trap demonstration in the middle of an interview because he cannot sit still for even five minutes. he has such a goofy way of expressing himself that velma and daphne refer to it as "fred speak" and need to translate it for others. he will throw his entire body at a monster if it causes his friends the slightest harm. he thinks he's above the laws of physics. he's never had ownership of the communal mystery inc braincell ever, in his life. and most importantly of all, HE CAN BENCH PRESS 220

[onelonelyghost0]

Ok, something I thought of while waiting for my college stuff and doodling, how would Dipper and Mabel react to eyes/paranoia/geometry? Like I’ve read so many good Mystery Twin aus that do so much justice to them but like… there’s varying reactions to that.

Hear me out; I recognize that most people do very much turn into hermits or try their best to avoid cameras and eyes and stuff but, being someone who constantly thinks something is watching them, what if they went the complete opposite? For me, if I know what’s watching me is mine/watching out for my good, it’s better. I routinely draw eyes on myself to act as “watchers” and tbh it helps with the anxiety for some reason. What would the twins do for this?

I completely see them hating the Eye of Providence, crossing out triangles on their homework, finding every possible way to protect themselves, but again, what if they employed their own “watchers”?

We have no idea if this could work in universe (at least I don’t) and again, it could just be for comfort. I love it when I know people are watching me, but if there’s none of that, I’m convinced something is watching me to bring about destruction. Yes it’s awful and I’m working on it but the eyes help. I’ve sewn eyes onto clothes, drawn them on my notebooks, hell I usually have them somewhere on my actual skin because I feel that they watch out for me.

Give me Dipper who tattoos his own runes and eyes on himself, taking them back and warding himself for his paranormal research. Who slowly becomes more and more eldrich the more time he spends with the creatures, who is constantly aware of everything because the eyes he has can see for him, at least slightly. Give me Dipper who knows everything about everyone, who has panic attacks because of what he Knows, who has to be careful of what he says to people, who begins to question if he is now like Bill, if he will use this the wrong way, who begins to seclude himself, because he would never cheat the world with this, but he would help it.

Give me Mabel who does the same, but more quietly. She always puts an eye on her sweaters and jewelry, for herself and for others. Who doesn’t delve into the world that Dipper loves, but still sees it. She doesn’t need anything to see the Fae now, nor the creatures who take measures to never be seen by humans. Give me Mabel who becomes like a protector, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear for the kids who don’t know what to do. She can see their emotions, and can push them towards the right decision, but always remembers that if she goes too far with her new skills she could still create the next weirdmaggedon. The knowledge crushes her as she draws another eye, this time across her collarbone, she cannot afford to hurt others again. She squares her shoulders and goes out to help again, to stabilize her brother, and to Watch. She knows Bill, knows his tricks, knows how he used everyone around her, and she will never let it happen again.

Give me Mystery Twins who become not so human anymore. Not on purpose, no, they never wanted this. But they will not put the responsibility they picked up on anyone else’s shoulders. Give me the twins who cannot back down, who negotiate with the creatures of this world to not wage war against the humans, who work behind the scenes to better the lives of human and nonhuman alike. Give me the forbidden knowledge they lay claim to. They stop aging after a while. No one notices. They are too focused on keeping the bad away. Too focused on keeping Bill out, trapped, and keeping themselves safe.

Give me Mystery Twins that become cryptids. They protect their homes, and they do so with tooth and nail. They will fight dirty, and they will play every hand they have, but they will not cross certain lines. Mabel can manipulate someone into doing whatever she wants, but she will never push them too far. Dipper could lay out your darkest fears, push them into your brain, forcing you to live them over and over, but he will never stoop as low as Bill.

Anyway, this went way further than I thought it would and if people like it I’ll write a fic ig, the ideas are all swirling around in my brain, but I just had this idea and had to share. Being someone who deals with wondering what is good and bad and how people feel and what is convincing vs manipulating, I saw myself a lot in the twins, and also in Bill, and I’ve worked to make it better. But I love the idea of the eyes I draw looking out for me, and I wonder if the twins would like it too.

And how everyone else would react when the eyes end up actually watching them.

Maybe I could call it the Watcher AU?

[shima-draws]

RARE PMD W they're releasing Red Rescue Team on the Switch on 8/9!! PMD fans finally get some crumbs let's GOOOOO

[goldensunset]

the indecision between ‘i love this character and i want them to be happy/i want to see more of them’ and ‘it would be most narratively compelling/intriguing if they died or otherwise were (mysteriously) never seen or heard from again’

[iheartmoons]

just saw a tiktok that was wondering what all the fic writers of well-known marauders fics are doing with their lives and i just laughed 😭😭😭😭😭 like babe. they’re on tumblr. they’re living normal lives. they’re being gay on tumblr.com.

[bistaxx]

AND HGDUO/GOSSIPDUO/QMOCKINGJAYS YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!

[crabsnpersimmons]

Last Line Challenge

Rules:

In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many as you like).

Tagged by @inkydoughnut thanks! i love this challenge!

Last Line:

You hesitate. For a brief moment, you are very aware of the distance between you and the sun.

(i... don't know if i'll keep this to be honest, it's a bit too on the nose. i'll think about it.)

Last Art:

(WHO'S THAT POKÉMON? *cuts to a commercial break*)

oookie doke that's a word count of... 18 (man i always get the long lines for this challenge)

No pressure tagging!:

@starriegalaxy @flinxypie @thatmooncake @spadillelicious @lunarmoves @ren-054 @vacantfields @nikolliver @ramblingsofacotlfangirl @ohno-the-sun @pillowspace @alternativesaga @loonasketches @aquacomet @zamjd @cacaocheri @vodyaniks @normal-about-the-dca

[daylighteclipsed]

ive been replaying kh1 (going thru the whole series on steam since i never got the chance to play all the games) and i was struck by something a bit odd. i have been dyinggg to talk about it

it's about kairi and her past.

i don't think she's a replica or construct necessarily

but in kh2 there's a parallel drawn between her and sally in halloween town; and the same i think could be true in kh1.

sally is a Frankenstein monster/doll made by the doctor. the entire plot of Halloween town centers around the need for the dr to make a "heart" which requires memories from Sally (the scene of her picking the forget me nots looks a lot like kairi holding a flower for aqua too)

sora takes interest in the project to restore a heart to the heartless too because of his desire to restore Kairi's heart.

i havent really come up with a coherent thought about what this means.

but given that we know kairi was experimented on in a way that involved her heart, it just seems suspicious that this parallel was made twice to her and a doll that was stitched together and animated by a mad scientist.

shes also compared to chirithy in kh3, which from my understanding were created by MoM for keyblade weilders; and to Pooh, who is a toy/story book character that came to life

given too that Kairi already has a weird thing going on with her heart, it just seems possible that theres something..more to it that i have yet to piece together. and its driving me crazy

NO, WAIT… ANON YOU’RE COOKING. Idk what it all means either, but those parallels are so good and so true. Cause there definitely is something artificial about Kairi’s heart, even if just partially. It was experimented on, like you said, and it looks completely different than the organic hearts we see, and I suspect that’s why we’ve never seen Kairi’s heart station. Because it’s (at least partially) artificial. It would look totally different than all the other heart stations and would probably give away what’s going on.