#the corner of the fandom that's just an echo of the source material (which is valid imo as a separate off-shoot of fandom)

[welcometogrouchland]

I've decided I need to post at least some of my DC art backlog or I may actually explode and die

[alchemistc]

Help, I'm so confused. How can it be, that shippers and antis have such a wildly different perception of the 911 daddy issue szene? I don’t watch the show, just saw some gifs of it, but the discours my dash provides from both sides is astonishing. Wtf is happening? (And for context: even if I'm not in the fandom, I have read Buddie and BuckTommy fics and like both ships.)

Honestly I'm incredibly new to this fandom so I can't really do a deep dive, but from experience in fandom dating back to like, the late nineties, I can tell you there is always, always a section of fandom that wraps themselves in fanon and ties their entire identity into making their own preferences canon.

I have zero problems with the idea of b*ddie. I think it definitely has its merits, and through a certain lens it makes sense. It's not what drew me in and so far there hasn't been a particular fic or take that calls to me, but that's a me thing and there's nothing wrong with having preferences.

What it comes down to is a purposeful misunderstanding of the context given - Buck is into sex, Tommy is clearly into sex, they are into each other and they are exploring that with healthy communication ahead of time by having a flirt about it. That's it. That's all that scene was. It showed us that Buck and Tommy meet each other where they're at and enjoy each other's company and wanna fuck nasty.

But as it ALWAYS goes in the minds of shippers/antis who have wrapped their identities in 'this HAS to be canon or there is something intrinsically wrong with the world and I'm going to make it everyone's problem's (which is NOT ALL SHIPPERS, MIND YOU, THESE GUYS ARE JUST THE LOUD ONES) - they aren't making a genuine connection with either the source material or the character arc. I could tell you twenty different ways off the top of my head that that particular scene could make for EXCELLENT b*ddie content but that's absolutely not the way the antis are coming at it - it's a personal insult to them that they didn't get their way so instead of feeding that into beautiful fanon they've made some bonkers banana wild exclamations about moral superiority.

This is not new. This is exactly how the (small but loud) subsect of shippers/antis has always operated. It's failed media literacy and making it personal when the reality is that this is currently the story the writers want to tell. Antis operate in an echo chamber. It's a bad faith argument (I hesitate to use that word because it's more like proselytizing) based on personal preference.

If bucktommy ends up being a flash in the pan, I will still have enjoyed the dynamic it brought. If Bucks storyline continues on a different trajectory that I don't particularly care for, I can either fade from fandom or dig in with canon divergence and be happy with that.

To answer your actual question though, which is how the two ends of the spectrum have such wildly different readings on the Daddy scene: everyone is looking at this through their own lens of experience/understanding, so of course, of course people who ship Buck and Tommy are delighted, and of course (some) b*ddie shippers don't enjoy it.

There's an element of maturity levels to it that I don't really feel like digging too deep into, as well, but lets be real: the infantalizing of Buck is a big part of the 'ick' we're seeing, the kinning/stanning going too far.

It's the taking it personal bit that's causing all the discourse. It'll fade, it always does, until there's another thing to clutch pearls about. It's just noise. It sucks, but at the end of the day this is a fictional TV show about first responders that is for the most part very Unserious™️ and these are all fictional characters that people from different walks of life are seeing themselves in.

And at the end of the day, there are creative outlets that allow you to change whatever the hell you want about canon if you aren't jiving with it - fanon exists for a reason.

I'll just be over here in my corner enjoying two grown ass men being so down bad for each other they're a little stupid about it.

[keagan-ashleigh]

First things first: happy 10 years! yay!

Then:

“These programmes have attempted to tinge it with romanticism, which has rather the same effect as if one were to work a love story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclid.” - Mark Gatiss; 25/07/2020

(source)

Oh my OH MY

OH.MY

For those who don’t know the books: it’s a quasi exact quote from A Sign of Four where Holmes talks about how Watson wrote a Study in Scarlet. The exact quote being “Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science, and should be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a love-story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclides”, to which Watson respons: “But the romance was there (...) I could not temper with the facts”. (it’s in the very first few pages of the book, page 4 of the BBC edition). While it is actually in my opinion the best quote to describe the show, it’s believed to be the first notion of the fact Watson is an unreliable narrator. Many would say - and I believe it too - that Doyle was hinting by this piece of dialogue that it was, indeed, a love story, or at least that Watson wrote it that way intentionally, because it WAS for him, a love story. That is one of the biggest and earlier hints in the books about the story being hidding homoromantic subtext, and it’s one of the main elements that has led people and scholars to theorize about it for decades. Doyle is telling us right here how we readers should pay attention to how things are presented to us, to what exactly Watson is perceiving and telling, because in the end it is Watson’s point of view. It’s a novel, not a cold recollection of facts, it’s Watson’s view of the facts, it is a recollection of HIS memories, that are publicly published, Doyle is telling us to keep all that in mind, this is not Doyle’s story, it’s John’s, he is the narrator, not Doyle. Doyle is simply indicating John is writing a love story without recognizing it as such explicitely (because he can’t) except for that moment he clearly tells us the facts from which he writes is a romance. What he sees is a romance, because he sees things through the lenses of what he feels, Holmes doesn’t see it (or refuses to), not because he doesn’t feels things the same way but because he maintains that cold and distant persona that Watson will end up shattering. There is a tons of reasons why Holmes would deny it being a romance, but what’s important here is that Watson will never give us an objective record, it’s what he feels and what he choses to tell. That is an analysis that has been existing for decades before the show aired, that’s worth noting because I did not came up with this analysis all by myself, it’s far from new and in the previous paragraph I wasn’t analysing the show, I was talking only about the book. This is an analysis that, obviously, Mark Gatiss would know about - even if he didn’t believe it to be correct. Because it’s old and well known for whomever starts to take interest into those books.  Also he would know considering the fandom is not quiet about the analysis of that sentence and how it is perceived, they all know people read it as with romantic subtext and why, we basically told them (not directly but they’ve heard) for years and years (even long before the show even existed) that we believe it to be a love story and why. What is funny now, is that he incidentally transposed the book’s analysis to his show. That goes beyond is will: the sentence has this analysis attached to it, when he ties it to the show he ties the analysis to it too. Meaning: Sherlock, the show, is indeed a romance, which echoes some of the things the cast said about it. (Martin Freeman saying it’s “the gayest show in history of television” (x) and such).  They are all well aware of the romantic undertones of the show, that is a fact. That is also a fact that the show IS romantic in its core. Because in the books, from Watson’s confession: it’s a matter of facts that the romance was there. You can NOT be faithful to the original and not take the homoromantic undertones with it. Even if they did not want to make it romantic, they could not, cause the material it’s based upon is heavily hinted to be a romance. And. They. Know it. Because it’s not a secret analysis we’ve kept locked up, it’s just known, you can read just whole scholar thesis about that, whether we believe this theory is correct or not, the fact is that it exists and it is known about. And like I said, since the show exists the fandom has been heard and talked about, so there is no way they don’t know at this point that a large portion of the fanbase believe it’s a romantic show. 

Chosing that exact sentence is not necessarily a choice he thoroughly made but he knows his show is seen as a romance by half its fandom, given the interviews he and Moffat gave about our corner of the fandom, he really does know we see it that way. So whether it’s a nod, whether it’s still part of his bad habit of queerbaiting, or it just means nothing but oh boy did it make my tjlcer’s ass raise from the dead and plays with our heads.

[dicedungeons-and-dragons]

Waylan’s Sabbatical (5/?)

A chunk of writing following our party NPC (and my Son) as he breaks away from the party. Our campaign uses names of places from various fandoms for fun but they have no real relation to the source material. (We also call the Raven Queen Nara because of some hasty Wiki reading)

TW: Mentions of past torture, general violence, injury.

Part: First | Previous | Next

The next time he makes his way back to the ruined castle is because there’s a storm coming. He spots the clouds gathering as an inky blotch on the horizon and notes the various creatures desperately trying to go to ground before it hits. With so many monsters in the forest he doubts he’ll find any kind of proper shelter that will keep him safe from the onslaught he thinks is coming. So after a short debate, wondering if the Black Knight will extend the same hospitality as he had the first time, he decides that he’s better off dealing with the lich than the stampede of creatures moving through the woods. 

He gets to the ruins before the rainfall starts. There are fresh bodies in front of the castle and he doesn’t bother to pick through their belongings, instead making his way straight to the front gate and calling inside,

“Black Knight!” His voice echoes against the stone, dulled under the sound of the raging winds. “It’s Waylan, I was hoping that I could find refuge from the storm with you!” 

There’s a long pause and he has to leave soon if he’s unwelcome. He could probably get to some of the spider catacombs, blast out one of the smaller caves with a few fireballs and take shelter until the rain passes. 

But what remains of the gate starts to click and groan as the old chains are used to lift it from the ground. 

“You are always welcome, traveler.” His voice is low, but Waylan catches it as he ducks into the ruins. It’s still loud inside, enough cracks in the old stones that the wind is rattling through, but it’s not too much. And it’s certainly warmer inside. 

“Thank you.” He says genuinely. 

“The storm might not pass for some time, follow me.”

Liches play the long game. Waylan knows that. Knows that creatures that live for hundreds of years are more likely to stab you in the back after you’ve shown it to them twenty times, but there’s little motivation for the lich to kill him. There are enough adventurers that come to the castle that he must have sacrificed enough souls to live for another two hundred years at the very least. So he follows the knight through the halls, up a spiraling staircase and out onto one of the towers. 

“If you are going to stay here you will need water.” Waylan spots the overturned barrels that look like they’ve been up here for years, but a few of them aren’t crumbling with age. “The well turned putrid many years ago.” He and the Knight set them upright to collect the rain water. But as the first few drops begin to fall the Knight ushers him back inside, and not a moment too soon as the sky splits open into a downpour. 

“Thank you.” And he means it. “I don’t mean to continue to impose.” 

“You cannot impose here. What you do is visit. The dead outside impose.” 

“Still, you saved my life last time. All I did was burn some spiders you could have killed yourself.” The Black Knight concedes the point with a nod before gesturing for Waylan to follow him back down the staircase. 

“Allow me to show you what remains of my home.” 

****

There are places in the castle that cannot be traveled through, areas where the floor is too weak to support weight, areas where the vegetation has collapsed the ceiling, but aside from the areas that are unsafe there are no places that are off-limits to Waylan. 

“Where are you from?” The Knight asks. He stokes a fire to life inside of a study, larger than the meeting hall of the council building. Waylan is eating a portion of rations, sat on the stone floor. The expensive rugs that had once likely lined the entire room have been eaten away by insects, sunlight, time. It feels ancient as he sits with this creature who has existed here for centuries. 

“I’m from Oshime.” 

“Ah. When I was alive there were only nine provinces, I believe there are more now?”

“A few.” 

“I have not heard much about the world beyond Okren since I became this, will you tell me about it?”

Waylan hasn’t ever been much of a talker. Not when it wasn’t trading sarcastic barbs, but he’s safe and dry so he figures he owes the lich at least some world history. 

****

After waiting out the storm he comes and goes from the castle. The lich seems to enjoy his company and Waylan appreciates his reserved demeanor, which considering liches are evil creatures probably says more about him than anything else. But it’s nice to have a ‘home base’ to return to as a resting point between the deeper sections of the Dark Forest and the kingdom’s capital. Eventually the Black Knight even shows him a different entrance into the palace, through a servant’s tunnel that allows him to slip in and out when the lich is not home. 

He never asks where the creature goes. 

The lich always asks why he’s still traveling the forest. 

****

When another storm drives him back to the castle a few weeks later he finds himself alone. The lich is nowhere he can find and without much else to do he begins to wander the castle. Everything is swathed in a thick layer of dust, so it’s easy enough for him to spot a door that looks like the knob has been polished in comparison. Waylan hesitates in front of it, inspects the floor, and the lock, the lintel above. Because he’s seen Ray stabbed, poisoned, and dropped into enough pits to know that checking for traps is an essential part of being an adventurer. 

But the door reveals no ill will. 

So he turns the knob and enters. 

Nostalgia hits him like a warhammer to his sternum as he peers into the dark room. It’s a massive space, nearly triple the size of his own modest bedroom back home. And here is another moth eaten bed and what what once ornate furniture that’s long since gone to ruin, but the desk, that stretched the entire length of one wall, is mostly intact. There are bottles and books strewn on every surface, piles of crystals, scrolls, tapestries, cauldrons, beakers, even a small pile of scrying bones left casting an ill fate from two hundred years ago. There is magical paraphernalia from what he suspects were all corners of the world at one time. 

He wonders briefly what Faith did with all of the things he left in the basement of his home. If she had to go through his and his father’s stuff, the boxes of his mother’s belongings that were stored up in the attic. Maybe he’ll ask her about it if he sees her again. 

Waylan is careful as he picks through the room. The books on the table are too fragile, even the slightest touch sends the brittle pages crumbling. But the ones sandwiched into the bookshelves are a little better. Their spines are loose and the binding fragile, but he manages to open a few of them. Some are in common, others in what looks like elvish, even some celestial. He knows four languages, but even common isn’t helping him here. Not when the books are written in such an outdated form. 

When the Knight opens the door hours later Waylan is sat on the floor, having found the one text written in draconic and using it to translate the common notes scrawled in the margins as best he can. At least dragons hold a longer lasting fidelity to their language, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise considering how long they live. 

“How long have you been in here?”

“I don’t know, since mid afternoon maybe? You weren’t home.” 

“I’m aware.” The Knight exits the room and Waylan just shrugs and continues scrawling notes into the small journal that he’d bought once he realized that if he kept scrawling notes on his map he wouldn’t be able to read it anymore. He makes it through another two and a half pages before the door opens again. The knight carefully picks his way across the floor until he can kneel down beside Waylan. “It’s past midnight.”

“Shit, really?” Where had the time gone? He startles when he sees the Knight offer him what appears to be a steaming cup of tea. “Thank you.” He doesn’t point out that the Knight long ago told him that he doesn’t bother with stocking things to eat or drink. It’s not hard to make tea from the plants in the forest, and he already knows the lich keeps herbs on hand for whatever reason. “Is this your room?”

“No. My room was down in the barracks.” He sits back, looking around the room. “This was Prince Westly’s room.” 

Waylan is a lot of things-- sarcastic, rude, broken-- but he’s not stupid or unobservant. “I’ll put everything back. I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“You can’t intrude on a space that has not belonged to someone in two hundred years, Waylan. He would have been happy to show you every inch of this room, all of his research, a dozen times over if he thought you were interested.” It’s the first piece of information the lich has offered him about the old inhabitants of the castle. 

And for some reason he feels like he owes a bit of his own history in return. “Where I grew up there weren’t any magic users. That was big city stuff. When I could suddenly light my hands on fire I didn’t have anyone to teach me. So I got my hands on as many books as I could find. They helped me get through the years I was alone.” 

Waylan feels the tectonic plates of their relationship shift. It’s slight, and he’s cautious, but he doesn’t see the harm in it just yet. He wonders what the reverberations will shake loose. 

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day thirteen

Prompt #13: “I never knew it could be this way.”

Fandom: BBC’s Merlin

Warnings: None

Characters: Merlin, Gwen

Words: 1160

Author’s Note: probs gonna write my nano around these two this year, so i thought i’d start practicing. which was a good idea, bc i’m clearly v v rusty.

>>A Kind of Warmth

Gwen sat at the table at the front of her chamber, the reports requiring additional laws on magic use laid out before her. She held a feather quill in her right hand, the ink slowly percolating out of the tip, staining the sheets a dark black.

Merlin was really supposed to be consulted for most of these, but he’d been helping with a mild outbreak in the lower town that morning. Gwen had planned to delay dealing with the reports (which were nearly as high as her forearm at this point) until he could join her, but after she’d gotten dragged into her fourth meeting on the intricacies of visitation etiquette, she’d used them as an excuse to hole herself up in her room. She’d even gone so far as to give strict orders for absolutely no one to bother her, short of a large-scale attack on the citadel.

(She almost hadn’t even added that stipulation, given their uncanny track record with such things, but it seemed irresponsible to not.)

She stretched her back and looked at the amount of paperwork she still had left, and let her head fall to the table with a resigned thud. She didn’t know how Arthur ever got through it all.

Her frustration ebbed at that thought, replaced with the melancholy she always associated with her late husband. She took the signet ring out of the pocket hidden under her skirts, and turned it about in her fingers.

Her chambers were so quiet at night.

The space had always felt large to Gwen, coming as she had from a one-room cottage with a curtain as its only division, but it only started feeling empty after Arthur was gone. Things were better now that Merlin had come back, and the kingdom wasn’t falling apart around her ears, but the yawning silence still got to her at times.

The bed pillows where she still surprised herself by finding strands of Arthur’s hair trapped in the frills. The metal cup on the desk, dented around the rim from the many times Arthur had hurled it at the wall, or more aptly, at Merlin. The dying fire in the hearth that she, Arthur, and Merlin had sat around for hours at a time trying to sort out the intricacies of centuries old trade agreements.

So many ghosts.

She shook her head and stood: clearly it was time to take a walk.

Gwen slipped her cloak on and then crept out the door, mindful to avoid her own guards just in case. She headed towards the hidden, winding passageways that allowed servants to pass unnoticed through the castle, hopeful that the late hour would mean no one would be about to spot her.

Her heels clicked on the stone floors and the sound echoed all the way down the hallway. Gwen winced and thought for not the first time that the soft-soled slippers she had worn as a servant were far better suited for such nightly exploits. Gwen did the next best thing, and took them off entirely.

She wandered deeper into the castle, her feet carrying her without direction, and eventually she found herself in one of the older tunnels that led out into the lower towns.

It was here that she stopped, because the light around the bend was glowing green.

Gwen shifted both shoes into one hand, and with the other pulled her sword from its sheath. She crept forward, thinking again about Camelot’s absurd odds of being attacked, and rounded the corner.

“Merlin!”

The sorcerer in question yelped and nearly fell over from where he’d been sitting on the floor. Gwen dropped her sword to her side and looked at the surrounding air. The green glow was not from a torch or another, earthly light source, she realized, but from Merlin himself.

He caught her eyes, and the glow vanished, leaving only the light from Gwen’s own candle.

“Gwen!” he stammered, rising to his feet in an awkward bow. “What’re you doing out so late?”

Gwen ignored him, and carefully placed a hand in the space the glow had just been. The light was gone, but it still felt warm to her touch. “Was that you?”

“Um.” Merlin shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Gwen lowered her hand. “…It was beautiful.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, like no one had ever said that to him before.

Probably, Gwen realized, because no one had.

Hesitantly, Merlin raised a closed fist to his chest, and whispered a word Gwen didn’t understand as he opened it.

A brilliant, shining blue butterfly stood in what was once empty space.

Merlin stretched his hand out to Gwen, and to her delight, after a moment’s pause the winged creature inched over to her own. She marveled at the weightlessness of it; how infinitely delicate and beautiful it was.

“This is magic?”

Merlin nodded, and Gwen felt a giggle bubble up in her chest. “I never knew it could be this way.”

Another butterfly materialized on Merlin’s arm, his eyes growing soft. “I don’t think I did, either.”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin frowned, clearly trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. “…I think there wasn’t a lot of beauty in magic, after the Purge. Not because it turned evil or anything, but because beauty has a kind of… warmth to it, I guess.”

The butterfly on Gwen’s arm decided she was not, in fact, a flower, and flew back over to Merlin to try her luck with his scarf. Merlin watched it burrow into the folds before continuing.

“It’s terrifying,” Merlin said. “But it feels safe, too.”

Gwen bit her lip, thinking about all the years Merlin had spent afraid. “Not much safety going around during the Purge.”

He huffed out a laugh, and the butterflies faded away. “No.”

Gwen felt a sense of loss as Merlin’s magic faded, and she decided she wouldn’t stand for that. She cleared her throat.

“What else can you do?”

Merlin looked at her, a grin sliding across his face. “You sure you want the answer to that?”

“Don’t go all Gaius on me.”

Merlin laughed, and then light and colour such as Gwen had never seen exploded from his fingertips.

He spoke in a tongue Gwen had learned to associate with danger, but was also inescapably Merlin, and Gwen could never be afraid of him.

Gold swirled in his eyes and reflected in the dark brown of Gwen’s own, and she watched as his deft motions pulled the air from its natural currents and swirled it through the space. Gravity-defying flowers and twinkling lights materialized around them, caught up in the wind, and wrapped around Gwen’s arms and skirts such that she herself was glowing. The walls danced with colours more vivid than the brightest sunset.

A grin wide enough to match Merlin’s own spread across Gwen’s face, and she reveled in the tingling sensation of magic running along her spine.

She’d never felt safer.

[sometimesrosy]

I hate seeing things like this “Someone on reddit (a huge bellarke fan) has had infos on s6 regarding bellarke. She said it was someone she trusts and that unfortunately the person made it clear that bellarke wasn't happening this season, if not ever. She said she completely lost hope... so yeah, low your expectations” I know better than to believe fleakers on reddit or twitter from GOT but it still gets you down knowing you can’t completely disregard it until the season airs

Anonymous said:A reliable moderator on Reddit said she has an insider and so far Bellarke isn’t in Jason’s plans and she was told Bellarke isn’t happening in s6 if not ‘ever’. I really know i shouldn’t believe in things like this, that don’t have open source or sumn but I feel so down. I still have hope I can’t accept that they put all those scenes or dialogues for nothing

Okay. So that’s two on the same topic. So this is going around again…. Three different asks now. And one nagging ask declaring i won’t answer their first. And it’s all bugging me.

*sigh* fine.

honestly i wish y’all just wouldn’t read it. but i should get it out. and you should know why I don’t buy those rumors and understand that I have reasons, I did research when they first came out. I went back to the text. And I have been watching the source of that rumor for literal YEARS now, so I’ve made some analysis on the way she works. I think we all forget that this is the internet, and we know what you said last year, how many times your theories were wrong, and who you blamed when they turned out to be wrong. None of this I say here is being said lightly and I wish I didn’t have to say it, but I think more harm has come from letting these rumors stand without challenging them. So. I guess I should do it, even though I don’t want to. The other option is to just wash my hands of fandom all together. I guess I’m too stubborn. fine. This is going to be a mess because I wrote it all day long, trying to get it out, planning on deleting it, getting new asks, having conversations with people, taking things out, adding others. And I’m just gonna post it and let it go without editing anymore.

I am not delusional. I am not naive. I am not a blind bellarke shipper. I am JUST trying to stick to the text and watch the show. I AM critical, but that does not mean I am negative. I am looking to UNDERSTAND the show on screen. And when rumors or writer commentary doesn’t fit with what I see in the show, I put them aside and do not take them as confirmation of anything.

I have been sitting on this answer all day trying to figure out how to answer it, because it gets pretty negative about… well… about one particular person and I am trying to keep out of drama and mind my own business and stick to the text and my corner of fandom. But I’m so tired of this all the time. 

I just went to reddit to find out why it’s coming back and who this redditor is and what they said. So I couldn’t find it in the 100 reddit, but it was in bellarke reddit. I don’t know know WHO that moderator is, although it might be someone I know, who I know listens to the person who started the original rumor, and even if it isn’t him, it’s still pretty clear to me that’s where this new wave of negativity is coming from.

 I have been avoiding speaking out on this particular rumor because I did my research when it first showed up and tracked it back to a person I had a meta argument with YEARS ago. And because of that, I’ve been careful to not say too much about it because it ends up sounding like I have a grudge. But it’s too much now. It isn’t fair that this stuff goes around because someone decides they are all knowing and understand everything better than everyone else and they think it’s a good idea to spread bad feelings as “confirmation.”

First of all, I don’t do gossip. I do canon. I analyze canon and stories and film and visuals and symbolism. Whatever someone says outside of canon, I consider it and see how it reflects upon canon. The more official it is, the more I take it seriously. Someone having an unnamed source with no written confirmation of what they said? And then DECLARING their interpretation of undocumented source material to be ACTUAL CANON CONFIRMATION? No. That’s called gossip and rumor and innuendo and interpretation and speculation. NONE OF THAT IS CANON CONFIRMATION.

I am at about third hand here, one person told me what she said about what the inside source said, so I cannot confirm anything I say as truth. But I want to explain the stuff I heard, and why I have decided that, far from confirmation against Bellarke, it actually sounds to me like confirmation FOR bellarke. It’s about interpretation, confirmation bias, point of view, rumors, fears, and ego.

As far as I can tell, someone who is an insider, who is in the know about the writers room said something along the lines of, 

“The writer’s room used to argue all the time about whether or not to write romantic bellarke, and now they don’t argue about it anymore.”

The person to whom this was told interpreted that to mean that it was CONFIRMED that Bellarke was dead and JR was NOT GOING TO DO BELLARKE AT ALL. RIP. 

Even if the source who said this is a good, honest source, that’s not what was said. At all. That was an INTERPRETATION of the statement, which seems to be strongly influenced by prior assumptions. The statement is saying they decided. That means it could go EITHER one way or the other. EITHER they’re giving up on Bellarke OR they’re committing to it so no arguments needed.

And I don’t understand that interpretation. Because it means that this source of gossip believes that season 5 had absolutely no romance in it. That there was nothing romantic about bellarke to argue about NOT doing.

But in season 5 we had 2199 calls to Bellamy, She must be important to you/She is. Sexy hug. The hostage taker and his girlfriend. Clarke jealous of B/E kissing. TWICE. Another traitor who you love. I always cared about bellamy. Love is not a weakness. Don’t make the same mistake I made when I betrayed you.  Go save him. Do you know how much she cares about you? She called you every day. Bellamy inviting her to the bridge and then giving her the romantic “look back” before he leaves. Waking up ONLY Bellarke. Marper charging them with care of their child (that’s not romance that’s MARRIAGE) and facing the new world in each other’s arms, TOGETHER. 

I mean, maybe one of those things could be taken out of context and read as romantic when it’s not intended to be, but all of them, one after another? on and on? No. That’s evidence that supports a romantic storyline.

If they CHOSE to not do romantic Bellarke, then there would be NO explicitly romantic moments, Clarke would NOT be compared to Echo in Bellamy’s feelings. They would NOT have used the daily letter trope. The camera would not have closed in on his hand by so much skin and his lips brushing her shoulder. Clarke would NOT have been jealous– a shot that CLOSELY echoed when she saw finn and raven kissing, an explicitly romantic/jealous parallel to a canon love triangle.

 And if they had changed their minds about romantic bellarke, they would have wrapped up the 2199 calls as NOT romantic at that fireside. They would have had Bellamy tell Clarke he poisoned Octavia to save Clarke’s life, and it was no big deal. They would have had Clarke tell Echo that Bellamy was her best friend, like a brother to her. But instead, they leave all these things unsaid, unspoken, still to be discovered. There are ACTIVELY open romantic Bellarke plots, especially because Bellamy HAS to either choose Echo and NOT Clarke, or he has to break up with Echo and see what can happen with Clarke, because he loves them both, as stated by Octavia. Or he could keep them both like Finn did. WHICH takes us back to romantic storyline anyway. Not endgame, but romance definitely. Which, EVEN if they have decided to go with endgame B/E STILL makes Bellarke part of a romance. Bellarke was a canon romance in season 5. Love triangle. C/B/E.

The writers CHOSE to put that stuff in there. They CHOSE to announce Bellamy’s love for Clarke as a tipping point for a major MAJOR plot and character moment. If they were clear about NOT putting romance in, they wouldn’t have done that. They would certainly not leave the storylines OPEN and in need of resolution. LIke with Supergirl, where Kara and James kissed and then did a 180 and were like, “nah let’s just be friends, HEy do you think that bland white creep is cute?” They tanked karolsen for a new ship. THIS is not happening on The 100. They did not tank Bellarke. They brought it in tighter and made it more immediate and brought other people into the the story and are forcing the need to CONFRONT the feelings they have for each other, because Bellamy is not going to be able to pretend he doesn’t feel that, when his girlfriend is there, and he SHOULDN’T be feeling it at all.

 If they were in the middle and TEASING bellarke and not intending to make it GO romantic, or delaying it and intending to make it go there, they would still be arguing about it being too much or not enough or whatever. 

However, if they put all that in there WITHOUT arguing, that means the plan, for everyone, is to do romantic Bellarke. It means they’ve already started. 

They know how to do platonic. Raven and Bellamy are platonic. When THEY stood at that window looking into the future of a planet, they DID NOT TOUCH. Platonic. When Bellamy refused to leave Raven behind, it was the memory of CLARKE that made it painful, and Raven jollied him out of it by calling him names and lying to him. NOT romantic. If they had decided to NOT do Bellarke and NOT tease romance or foreshadow it, they know how not to make it romance. Which includes NOT comparing your love for her to your canon girlfriend. 

NOW TWO people have declared the source to be a good source. And this has been the problem with this rumor, because this person has a lot of authority within fandom, has been involved with production, has a broad audience and does indeed talk to people. SO she is seen as an authority that cannot be questioned.

There is no authority that cannot be questioned about their opinion. 

And I have had significant interaction with this person that calls into question her interpretations, her judgment, and her authority. I once called her a hypocrite because she said I could not possibly know authorial intent, because SHE knew authorial intent and I was wrong. Which, as a teacher, just pisses me the hell off, because she’s basically saying that only certain people are able to understand story, people with authority like hers. She was gatekeeping my interpretation. And, like, my JOB was to teach kids how to think for themselves and come up with interpretations. And that’s what I try to do here. Come up with my interpretations, show you how i got there, encourage you to come up with your own and back them up. I mean if you agree with me, great, but it’s fiction. We all get to interpret things. The better our analysis, the better we can defend it. To just flat out say that she was the authority and SHE knows and can tell everyone what to think? No.

So I guess that’s why I’m going all in on this. I wrote this this morning when I was ranting, but not sure I’d post the vague blog because I try not to be negative. But then I got the second ask so it’s all coming around again, and I already avoided speaking out about it the first time. And that didn’t make it go away. She’s still acting as an authority who knows everything and all she has to do is say it is confirmed, and other people take it as truth because she said it. It’s not like it will cause a rift in fandom. The fandom is in pieces anyway, and anyone who believes her thinks I’m delusional and an embarrassment, according to the anons I get, But I’m going to put this under the cut in the hopes that most people are too lazy to click more. But whatev, she’s not my friend, she doesn’t respect me I don’t respect her. And this whole gossip horror was the nail in my fandom coffin when it first came up a few months ago. I’m not naming names but if you know what’s happening or what happened the first time, you know the story. 

I hope this is too long and y’all won’t read it. This is why I have been sitting on this post all day, but I keep getting asks and I’m getting so angry.

I know who said that, and i never trust her interpretations, because she spent season 3 telling us all, definitively, that Lxa was the hero now, CLarke was the Love Interest, and CL was endgame because it was *pretty,* and we had no right to think CL was dark. First of all, pretty does not equal good, and hasn’t been assumed so for like idk a hundred years? But worse, that I had NO RIGHT, to look at it any other way but a beautiful love story. (incidentally silencing abuse victims.) That we COULD NOT understand authorial intent, did not have the ability to do so, but she did, and we were wrong. And not allowed to say anything else.

 When she doesn’t understand something in the show, she doesn’t bother trying to understand the story that JR is telling, she just says that he’s a bad writer. When she DOES understand something in the story, she says the writers are so bad that they didn’t do it on purpose, and it’s only because she’s so smart and clever that she figured out their underlying psychological misogyny that they didn’t know they were writing into the story. That’s the Finn as “Nice Guy” storyline. 

When the writers actually TELL her that they LITERALLY meant what she saw and they are surprised the fandom missed it, she again goes back to blaming the writers for not being clear enough. When she was TOLD that the CL story in polis was a dark story of Clarke’s psychology and she MISSED it, she AGAIN blamed the writers for not being clear and then. And THEN. Get this. Blamed the fandom for never looking critically at the CL story in POLIS, For only seeing it as pretty, unless they were screaming ABUSE.  Remember when I told you she told me I didn’t have a right to my interpretation and she was silencing abuse victims? So. Yeah. She’s referring to me, and those of us who were talking about that seriously, as abuse survivors or psychology students.

Anonymous said:She’s not the only one that claimed Bellarke is never happening. [XX] had some insider too as i remember and tweeted something along those lines of the moderator from Reddit publicly. {XX] is reliable enough and she said something like they aren’t planning canon but I don’t wanna put pressure on her I only saw her tweet she is not a part of fandom drama she’s a part of presskru.

Yeah. I’m not saying her name. That’s her. I’ve spent all morning trying to write my thoughts on this, and on what I’ve seen her do in this fandom for three years. And I found that reddit thread and I’m pretty sure that the mod’s “reliable source” is that woman who is NOT a reliable source. She’s a biased source who does not check her theories against the canon because she’s more interested in hearing herself talk and being right than in actually understanding the story. 

Being part of presskru does not mean she is right. The press writing about this show has OFTEN been wrong. DO you remember season 3 at ALL? Some of those people were still writing reviews in season 5 where Clarke and Bellamy did not exist almost. They were trying to rewrite the show as Octavia-Raven-Diyoza centered. She was part of the completely inaccurate interpretations of season 3. Just because someone tells you they are an authority that does not mean you should take what they say without questioning them. QUESTION EVERYTHING. 

She is not reliable. She has had consistently bad speculation and has interpreted this show ABSOLUTELY incorrectly MANY times. And when she’s wrong, she says the problem is with the story and the writers, not her meta. She refuses to question her own interpretations or even, really, to check it to the canon show. She believes Bellarke is dead so when someone said something, she IMMEDIATELY decided she had to tell EVERYONE that Bellarke was confirmed dead. This whole rumor comes from her.  From her unreliable interpretations and confirmation bias.

Please, don’t take my word for it. Go back over her meta and her speculation. See what she says when the writers tell her to her face that she was wrong, and how she is friends with them until she is facing fandom and then she calls them all bad writers and the show a bad show and the story making no sense. When really, she the show just WENT OVER HER HEAD AND SHE MISSED IT. Every time she calls a writer a bad writer, you can just assume that she did some lazy analysis, jumped to conclusions, and when the story didn’t do what she thought it should, decided the fault was with the writers, the story, the characters, or, well hell, why not just blame me. I did after all say CL was abusive. And that’s why she didn’t bother looking into the symbolism of Clarke’s character development in polis. 

Someone told her something, when she knows the whole cast and crew are on lockdown, and she ran to twitter and started telling everyone that she had insider information and she knew the truth. That is not reliable. That is HIGHLY suspect and arrogant and lacks any sort of honor. She needed to be the one who had insider knowledge, so she decided to hurt a whole fandom. She HURT people, because she HAD be the one to know the truth. She was NOT concerned with anyone else and did NOT allow them to be happy shipping their ship. 

As far as I can tell, her interpretation of what someone told her is par for the course for her, had nothing to do with the canon, and everything to do with fandom drama, ego, confirmation bias, and the desire to be the authority and have everyone think she’s the shit.

I do not think she’s the shit. Sorry. I think she is an irresponsible writer claiming authority and using it to control those around her. Worse, she’s a teacher. And as a writer and a teacher, that makes me ANGRY. She can’t bully me into following her, or convince me that she’s smarter than me and make me hang on her every word, and so she blocked me a long time ago. But I’ve tried to help people understand the story and come up with their own interpretations and she’s actively gone out of her way to claim her authority to kill a whole ship and fandom. Am I biased? YOU BET. But that bias means I pay very close attention to what she says. And what she says, is suspect.

Please don’t send me any more asks about gossip, rumors or drama. And definitely don’t send me any asks about her. 

I would prefer to talk about CANON, literature, film, science fiction, character development, symbolism, storytelling, and Bellarke.

[isleofandroids]

Partners: Part Three (RK900 x Reader)

Fandom Detroit: Become Human

Word Count 1,714

Summary After being paired with the new addition to the DPD, you have to learn how to deal with the post-android events

PART ONE TWO

Tags [if your name is crossed out, that means I wasn’t able to actually tag you] @x6-15 @sherlockspie @yallgotkik @avereality @riridmanngrl @jamiethenerdymonster @not-a-kat

—

Nothing but darkness was what greeted you after finding a way inside. You didn't think you'd ever have to be in such a run down place, even with this job. The only source of light came from small openings through the wooden planks against the two entrances, and cracks in the edges of the ceiling. Glass, rocks and debris littered the entire floor and made no spot safe to step on without caution. There were sounds of fluttering wings and screeches that echoed through the abandoned building, moving from one area to the next with fading volume. The shadows from both you and Conner became giants on the chipped walls, creating more of an eerie feel to the whole situation.

“Your heart rate has increased by five beats a minute.”

“Really? I didn't notice.” You uttered, trying to calm your rapid heart by taking deep, quiet breaths. Anything was better than hearing Conner's statistics about health echo in a deteriorating warehouse.

“If this atmosphere carries an affect on your health, it would be wise to leave the rest of the search for the deviant to me. This will only slow us down.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk.” You replied sarcastically, continuing deeper into the abandoned space with cautious steps. The rhythm of your walking was soon the only thing heard from either of you as he kept the identical pace.

The android was already watching you carefully from the moment you entered the building. The subtle babysitting procedure was quite intensified once the sudden change in your chest was discovered. He took note of the incident and the assumption that the environment was the cause, and made another mental note not to allow you to join in on such excavations. As not only did it seem like it would always have a breach in your cardiac state, but it would stall any progress from the missions being completed. And there was not going to be room for error on his watch.

“I am curious as to why you took such a position in law enforcement when the mere appearance of this establishment has your heart beating in a slightly erratic state. Surely any cardiatric issues would deem you unfit for duties out in the field.” You groaned quietly, not bothering to reply so he would get the hint that you wanted and needed the quiet. If he was going to continue on speaking just to criticize your choice of career, you would at least have him do it when you weren't in a situation that could hold any level of danger.

As you ventured deeper into the nearly vacant, concrete room, you came upon a set of ancient looking stairs. The metal of the railing was cold, but the amount of time gone by without proper maintenance built a layer of dark copper rust that left bare scratches against the surface of your palms each time you used it to steady yourself on a weak step. The sound of creaks and decent dents in the material didn’t help settle any doubts on the stability of the staircase. Regardless, however, you continued upward. The surroundings were nothing void of an ominous and dangerous feel, as old machines and broken pieces of large metal or steel objects were scattered across the second level of the building. Tattered work uniforms were bundled into a corner - you lifted one up and observed its appearance. You tossed it back down and lightly kicked the almost oddly shaped pile of worn out clothing, nearly flinching when a rat appeared from under some of the shirts and ran across the dusty ground to a new hiding place. You let out a small breath and shook your head, I shouldn’t let small stuff get to me. That plastic babysitter of mine might force me out of the search.

Conner’s voice was heard from behind after the incident, though with the back and forth way he’d been acting lately a form of communication wasn’t something you wanted to reignite unless necessary. It became a muffled sound once you blocked it from your mind, needing to make yourself focus on the possible rogue android. The only thing you allowed to enter your system about the man beside you was whether he would actually allow an open chance to bring in the deviant without threats or shoot outs being made. The offer itself - no matter how tempting it seemed - wasn’t convincing enough for you to drop everything you thought about. Conner was a force to be reckoned with and an impossible person to reason with, the complete opposite of his counterpart. You only agreed to do take on this case because staying ahead of the newer model by even a few steps would give you a quicker advantage in case he falls back on his word.

The movement of your nose wrinkling wasn’t missed while you slowly paraded around the cement flooring, unusual odors filling your nostrils and causing a displeasing scent to invade one of your five senses. Despite the almost repulse you felt, it carried a scent that stood out above the rest. One that you knew all too well from months of deviant cases and working with the hotheaded machine. While the smell of thirium resembled an echo inside of system of senses, it was impossible for you to follow the exact trail that would eventually lead to the supposed fugitive. With a quiet huff, you glanced back at your partner. “Conner.” He looked away from the old equipment. “I need you to look for any blue blood up that leads further in.”

“Yes, Y/N.” The RK900 gave a subtle nod before walking ahead of you, his inaudible steps still echoing a form of sound that bounced off the walls. You stayed put, waiting for the man to announce any findings the more he surveyed the area. The opportunity was used in observing the rest of the room, trying to catch anything that could have given away the exact location. The situation itself was weird - there weren't any tracks outside, no handprints on the walls or floor inside. There was a significant lack of parts that could've been lost and damaged that would've ended up abandoned somewhere. As well as the well hidden streaks of thirium that was likely to lost during the deviant's escape. The visit to the house before being led to the warehouse wasn't much help; the woman there was very vague and only gave real attention to the price of a replacement android rather than finding the current one. The absence of evidence and trails was beginning to get frustrating. You were so into the extra effort of detective work that you didn't hear your partner calling you. You looked over to see Conner waving his hand in his direction, motioning for you to go over.

You followed the man through a hall off to the side with only one window at the end. The cement ground was especially dirty with excessively accumulated dust and small bugs crawling about the nooks and crannies. Your face scrunched up each time you needed to flick one off of your jacket, so much so that an amused expression flashed across the CyberLife creation's face before disappearing just as quickly. He kept a fraction of a distance ahead as he led you to a large, separate room. It was the emptiest spot in the whole building save for a rusted old elevator built in the center of the back wall. As the two of you approached the contraption, you saw that the shaft itself was gone. You stepped toward the edge of the space and looked down, seeing nothing but darkness below. “Any blue blood?”

Conner stepped up beside you and lifted his chin as he looked up. “There are spots and fingerprints along the cables that lead to an opening for the roof - right where that thin streak of light is coming from.” He tilted his head sightly, “The trail ends there. If we can get to the top and open the door, I will be able to pinpoint the exact location of the deviant.”

You nodded along, humming at the end while you thought about the predicament. Surely there was another entrance that would take you both to the rooftop without any extra force being needed. Nothing in the room gave way to an alternative, nor did the building itself really have anything but old, broken products and equipment. However, you did recall seeing a window beside the doorway that brought you to this room. So with only a simple nod in the other direction, you led the animated detective back the way you came. The bottom panel of the window was cracked, almost as if someone had tried to break it open with a rock or other hard object, but other than that it was still closed and locked. You pulled down one of the sleeves of your jacket so it covered your dominant arm completely, and used your elbow to break through the weakened glass. Clear shards fell far into the grass down below, and you cleared away any loose pieces before turning the outdoor latch. You lifted up the window and swung a leg over to sit at the ledge, using a nearby tree branch to lift yourself up. You turned your head to look after the frozen animatronic. “Come on, Conner.”

“There is a twenty-six percent chance that you will fail, Detective.”

“Which means there's a seventy-four percent chance I won't. So hurry up.”

Conner blinked, the LED on the side of his temple switching into a glowing yellow while he contemplated the success rate of this stunt. The odds calculated to ending in your favor if done right, yet the level of stupidity you carried in that moment was something that irked the robot. Not only were you putting yourself in harms way, but you were doing something with no guarantee that it would provide the wanted deviant in the end. If it heard you, it could run again. And that would've been a huge step back from the present case at hand.

With his normal frown etched onto his human features, he begrudgingly climbed out of the window to join you.

Software Instability ↑↑

[outlanderfanfics]

Getting to Know Abby Debeaupre

This week, I interviewed another great Outlander fanfic writer, @abbydebeaupreposts!

Abby was born on the East Coast of U.S and grew up in and around New York City. She is 50% Greek and 50% Mutt, but can only (barely, she says) speak her native tongue of English. Without exactly revealing her age, she did admit that she has a playlist stuck in the 80s. She only started writing Outlander fanfics a little over a year ago. In school, she studied Political Science and Economics. Currently, she does mostly transaction work, focusing mainly on contingency planning and a lot of technical writing. For fun, Abby enjoys hiking, biking, playing tennis, reading, cooking, and watching documentaries. As a unique talent, she revealed that she can tie a cherry stem with her tongue! If she could travel through the stones, she would like to relive her life as a baby boomer or possibly go to Paris in the 1920s. She was adamant that she would not be all that adaptable to the 1740s, as she has a healthy respect for deodorant, tampons and indoor plumbing.

Keep reading to see the full Q & A.

What inspired you to start writing Outlander fanfiction?

The long droughtlander between 1 and 2. I started writing fanfic probably like everyone else --because there were some things I wanted to read that weren’t written yet. Also one of my children had a serious medical issue and needed surgery (he’s doing really well. If any parents out there need to figure out how to go about finding a peds neurosurgeon feel free to DM me). It was a hugely challenging thing to go through. I had a lot of time waiting and pacing in doctor’s offices and hospital corridors. The thing is you are still processing later on-- months later...it echoes across a lot of your life even after and there was upheaval for awhile. Anyway, I stumbled on Outlander fanfic -- perfect small snippets -- the fandom platform is a kind of shorthand that cuts through the expositional crap-- we know who the the characters are and mostly where they are going. Fics usually have regular updates so you stay interested, etc. A handful of writers in particular gave me something to look forward to, a nice escape and lovely food for thought about something other than the things happening IRL. That made a difference to me and I -- corny as this sounds--hope maybe I’ve been able to return the favor/pay it forward.

What are some of your favourite quotes that you have written?

This is a great excuse to reflect on what I have been doing so thank you for that. Let me preface this by saying that I love writing but readers make it fun, special and interesting. So I just wanted to say how enjoyable readers have made this experience. In the process of reviewing everything to try and pick out some quotes has made me realize that I did accomplish my starting goal-- I wrote some things that I wanted to read that remained unwritten and I am kind of happy with how things turned out. Here we go:   

“He kissed her as if she was the essence life itself and she kissed him as if by doing so she could bring him into the light.” --An Outlander Affair to Remember

“If my lips touch yours, Sassenach, I might no’ be able to stop. I’ve been holding heaven in my arms while you slept.” --An Outlander Affair to Remember

“Kiss me quick, all’s quiet, no one is coming.” Claire huffed as she dropped into his lap. “Aye? Well, if it ‘twas you coming, Sassenach, it certainly wouldna be quiet for long!” -- An Outlander Affair to Remember 

“I could have been content, you know...Everything changed when you came into Faith’s life.” Jamie could not remain silent. “Sassenach, I came into your life, too.” “I know. That’s it, exactly.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, as if the truth of the statement made her heart break. -- This is Us

“Dearest LJ, If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach; Your best chance is with a scalpel, not a spatula!” -- This is Us

“Sassenach, if ye think that kiss’ll help me focus on something other than how much I look forward to doing it again, I must tell ye I am no’ of the same mind as you. Come here, lass,” he said as he moved in for the kill. -- Queen’s Gambit

What is your writing process when writing your fanfics? 

I very specifically choose a quote or a scene or a theme from the source material and then challenge myself to drop it on its head and slide it from the OL-verse into my fic in a way that changes its meaning, reconstructs it or reinterprets it. This is true of all my stories except perhaps the Abby After Dark Collection-- which is a little less….literary in nature. This Is Us in particular uses many influences from the book-verse (and TV show too actually) and it has resonated with readers despite the fact that I know about half of the readers haven’t read all the books. I love the fact that it appeals to both kinds of readers.

Do you write during a specific time of day? 

I work looooong hours, I have a fairly busy life with my family and friends and so I try and attend to writing a little bit every day but some days more than others.

Do you ask for input from peers? 

Not in the way you mean--I don’t have a beta and I know it shows! But my peers are beyond supportive of me. We do discuss story arcs and character development, funny plot bunnies, etc. Especially when you get the odd mean anon. They are so great in those low moments. I have been blessed with cheerleaders in the fandom from day one. A lot of people ask how can they get traction for their work and on their blogs-- here is my best advice: team up with someone or several someones--There are artists out there, GIF makers, book analysis bloggers, script nerds, BTS photo blogs, photoshop wizards- find them team up-- @smoakingwaffles started really getting traction with @annalisedemoodboards and the Polaroid series. @futurelounging was just flat out funny and caught @bonnie-wee-swordsman‘s attention. I started on AO3 and @pissedoffsoka13 found me as did @thistlekat777 and really encouraged me to come to Tumblr and then @outlanderedandoverhere drew an amazing This Is Us the fic that is my blog banner and @cantrixgrisea started much as I did posting (but fanart on AO3)-- incredible stuff--and she is so adorable and funny. These are just a few of the ways people give input-- I learn everyday from what they are up to. 

Do you edit while you write or do you use a more stream-of-consciousness approach?

I am the worst proofreader in the world-- but I edit constantly, it’s why it takes a long time between posts. 

What is your favourite genre to write and why?

I don’t have one. I write more modern AUs. I am too much of a nerd about wanting to fact check things and it’s just easier to do that with a modern world setting. The only genre I don’t think I could do are the kinds of fics written by @futurelounging and @diversemediums and @kalendraashtar-- these fantasy/futuristic/past complexities that are fantastically unique.

What has been your favourite season of the show so far and why?

Season One 1-8 because a more perfect glorious season there never was. That is not to say that I haven’t been blown away by several episodes in all three seasons-- they have their strengths and weaknesses. 

Have you read any of Diana’s books? 

All of them and many side ones as well.    

Do you have a favourite book?

ABOSAA.    

Do you read/write fanfics for any other fandom?

Until a few years ago I hadn’t heard the phrase fandom let alone… so no.

What is one random fact about you that you have never revealed on Tumblr before?

I play Texas Hold ‘Em and a mean game of Oh Hell.   

And that’s Abby. Even though I haven’t added her stories to my archive YET, you can check out her fanfiction master list on her blog.

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 4 Chapter 4

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Chapter 4

“OHHH YES! WELCOME BEAUTIES…TO TODAY’S QUIZ SHOW!”

Spotlights engulfed the lab. Two disco balls dropped from the lighting fixtures and engulfed the three into multicolored lights. Confetti fell from somewhere. Dipper knew that he was not going to like whatever happened next.

“OH BOY! I CAN ALREADY TELL IT’S GONNA BE A GREAT SHOW!” said the robot. “EVERYONE GIVE A BIG HAND TO OUR WONDERFUL CONTESTANTS!”

A fake, monotone clapping noise echoed from the robot’s soundboard as more confetti poured onto them.

“NEVER PLAYED BEFORE GORGEOUS? THE RULES ARE SIMPLE. ANSWER CORRECTLY.” said the robot. “OR YOU DIE!!!

Mettaton attacks.

“LET’S START WITH AN EASY ONE!!” said Mettaton. “WHAT’S THE PRIZE FOR ANSWERING CORRECTLY?”

“Uh…” said Dipper. “A new car?”

“THAT IS INCORRECT!!!”

A lightning-bolt shaped bullet shot from Mettaton’s microphone and collided with Dipper’s Soul.

“Are you okay?” Mabel asked.

“I’m fine,” said Dipper. “Not sure how many of those I can take. We’re gonna have to be smart about answering them.”

“Alright,” said Mabel. “Making things up is my specialty!”

“GLAD TO HEAR IT GORGEOUS!” said Mettaton. “HERE’S YOUR PRIZE: WHAT IS THE KING’S FULL NAME?”

Dipper actually remembered that one. Papyrus had said it, Undyne had said it, and the turtle that sold them things had said it even though he insisted on calling him “Ol’ King Fluffybuns”.

“Asgore Dreemurr!” said Dipper.

“CORRECT! WHAT A TERRIFIC ANSWER!”

“I was going to say Doctor Friendship…” said Mabel.

“NOW ENOUGH ABOUT YOU. LET’S TALK ABOUT ME! WHAT ARE ROBOTS MADE OF?”

“Metal and magic!” said Mabel.

That one had come pretty quickly, but Dipper figured that it was easy to guess.

“HERE’S AN EASY ONE FOR YOU: TWO TRAINS, TRAIN A AND TRAIN B, SIMULTANEOUSLY DEPART STATION A AND STATION B. STATION A AND STATION B ARE 252.5 MILES APART FROM ONE ANOTHER. TRAIN IS IS MOVING AT 124.7 MILESPERHOURTOWARDSSTATIONBAND TRAINBISMOVING-AT253.5MILESPERHOURTOWARSSTATIONAIFBOTHTRAINSDEPARTEDAT10:0AMANDITISNOW10:09HOWMUCHLONGERUNTILBOTHTRAINSPASSEACHOTHER?”

“32.058 minutes!” said Mabel.

Dipper had no idea how he could even solve that one, let alone Mabel.

“NEARLY RAN OUT THE CLOCK THERE, GORGEOUS! BUT THAT IS CORRECT!”

“You spent the entire time asking the question!” said Dipper.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO TAKE BACK YOUR CORRECT ANSWER?” Mettaton asked.

“We’re good!” Both the twins said.

“EXCELLENT! BECAUSE FROM HERE ON OUT THEY’RE ONLY GOING TO GET HARDER FROM HERE!” said Mettaton.”NEXT QUESTION: HOW MANY FLYS ARE IN THIS JAR?”

“54!” said Mabel.

“WHAT MONSTER IS THIS?”

“Mettaton!”

“BUT CAN YOU GET THIS ONE? WOULD YOU SMOOCH A GHOST?”

“Heck yeah!”

“WHAT A GOOD ANSWER! I LOVE IT!!!!” said Mettaton. “NEXT QUESTIONS: HOW MANY LETTERS ARE IN THE NAME METATTON NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN…”

“56!”

“That is correct!”

“How are you getting all of these?” Dipper asked.

“Alphys is telling me,” said Mabel. “But the smooch a ghost one was all me!”

Alphys froze.

“ALPHYS…” said Mettaton. “WERE YOU HELPING THE CONTESTANT?”

“U-u-uh, I was—” Alphys stammered.

“THAT’S ALRIGHT,” said Mettaton. “I’LL GIVE THEM AN ANSWER YOU’RE SURE TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO! WHO DOES DOCTOR ALPHYS HAVE A CRUSH ON?”

The two twins froze.

“Could we…not answer that one?” Dipper asked.

Entry no. 34

During our game of multi-dimensional chess, Bill mentioned something interesting. A Kingdom of Monsters. He seemed hesitant to discuss more; although it seemed more out of ignorance than ill-will. After some prying, he managed to bring up some key points. Sometime before Gravity Falls was inhabited, humans lived with monsters. A war broke out between the two races, leading to the monsters becoming imprisoned underneath a magic suppressing barrier. Bill mentioned that he had tried to enter the kingdom several times to look for someone to help him build the portal, but he kept being chased out by some “annoying dog”.

Whether or not he meant to, Bill has just made a phenomenal breakthrough with my research. Is this Kingdom of Monsters the source of all weirdness in Gravity Falls? Or even the world? Maybe there can be a direct link between the monsters in the forest and the monsters underground. Furthermore, if Bill really wanted to find a scientific mind in the kingdom of monsters, there could be someone else working on a portal right now.  Someone else I could compare notes with!

I expect the portal will be finished by tomorrow. Perhaps once Bill can enter our dimension, I can welcome him to Earth properly with a little hike.

It was much later, after the quiz show and after a cooking show and after a news show, when sans made himself known and invited Dipper to dinner.

“where’s that sister of yours?” he asked.

“Well…”

“‘A tragic tale of two lovers, torn apart by the tides of fate’…” Mabel read off of the poster in front of her. “That sounds right up my alley!”

She ignored the fact that 75% of the poster was Mettaton’s face. It would be nice to see him actually acting, and not just the elaborate set pieces he set up when he wanted to kill them. She would have to make a mental note to come back and catch it once Mettaton had calmed down a bit.

Mabel was so lost in thought that she did not notice where she was walking next. She stopped as she noticed she was on stage.

“Oh,” said Mabel as realization dawned on her.

“OH? COULD IT BE…” Mettaton’s voice echoed through the stage. “MY ONE TRUE LOVE?”

Mettaton descended down the fake balcony with all the grace of a vacuum cleaner. The song’s opening covered most of it up. He dropped the hem of his bright blue ballgown and began to sing.

That was when Mabel knew that this was really right up her alley.

“guess it doesn’t really matter,” said sans. “so, what do you know about a talking flower?”

The atmosphere grew suddenly very heavy. Dipper swallowed before he spoke.

“We found it in the Ruins,” said Dipper. “It’s this little gold flower named Flowey—“

“really?” said sans. “couldn’t think of a better name?”

“I didn’t name it!” Dipper said. “It calls itself that!”

“alright. tell me more about flowey mc flower face.”

“Well, when we left the Ruins, he talked about a lot of weird things,” said Dipper. “Stuff like how he was the one that would inherit this world...and how we weren’t the ones he was looking for…sans, how many humans have been in the Underground before us?”

“haven’t you heard undyne, kid?” sans asked. “there’ve been six humans in the underground. not including you two.”

“And is that where you got the lamps?” Dipper asked.

sans fell silent.

“Look, if we’re going to work together, we need to be 100% honest with each other,” Dipper said. “I won’t…judge you if you did something bad. Just be honest with me.”

Sans did not say anything for a moment. Just when Dipper was about to speak up again, he chuckled lowly.

“don’t judge anyone, you say? kid, that’s a good one and you don’t even know why yet,” said sans. “alright. there have been a total of 12 humans in the underground. i’ve seen six. just not at the same time.”

“So there’s a way out of the Underground then?” Dipper asked.

“sure there is. but that’s not what i’m talking about,” said sans.

“Well, what do you know about the other humans?”

“i’d say most weren’t older than you,” said sans. “all came from the ruins, all left through new home. all came at about the same time. don’t know what happened to them. don’t think they knew why they were here, either.”

“Well, do you think that flower might have something to do with it?” Dipper asked.

“don’t know. never seen ‘em before,” said sans after a minute. “well, if nothing else, this run’s been good for information. anything else you need to know?”

Dipper opened his mouth for a minute. But there was not anything else he could think to ask.

“great,” said sans. “if you get to the castle, i won’t stop you. but try and think about what you’re getting into, alright?”

It was only when sans got to the fichus in the corner that Dipper found what he wanted to ask next.

“What do you mean, ‘this time’? You keep talking about ‘this time’ and ‘these runs’, like you’ve already seen all this before!” said Dipper. “What are you trying to hide? I won’t be able to help you if you don’t tell me everything!”

“listen, kid,” said sans. “it’s not gonna matter. even if i do tell you everything, you’re just gonna disappear again. and there’ll be another kid waiting for me at my station. or maybe something worse. i’ve given up trying to change this.”

Dipper’s mouth hung open as he tried to think of what to say. Everything that sans said ran through his head. And then he realized.

“You’re a time traveler?”

The light in sans’ eyesockets went dark. He did not say anything.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Dipper asked. “Maybe we can help you! Are you with the same agency as Blendin? Is there actually a Time Baby?”

“well,” said sans. “you’re close. if there’s a time traveler, it’s not me.”

Dipper probably had more experience with time travel than the average person, but it was still limited. There was stuff in the journals and the science fiction books he read, but most of what he really remembered came from the 80’s movies Mabel watched. There was one he remembered quite well, about the crabby man who was stuck in the same day repeating over and over.

“Oh,” said Dipper, because he was not sure what else he could say.

“if that’s all you have to say, kid, then i better head out,” said sans. “it’s almost papyrus’ bedtime, and he gets cranky without a bedtime story.”

“We’ll find a way to fix this,” said Dipper. “Mabel and I. We have, uh…experience with this kind of thing.”

“i mean, you probably won’t,” said sans. “but thanks anyway.”

He walked past the fichus in the corner and disappeared.

It took Dipper longer to leave. Too much was going through his head, not just about what sans had said but how he looked when he said it. He was going to have to set things right. There was no way around it.

When he did stumble out, he was surprised to find Mabel.

“Hey Dipper!” Mabel said. “I just finished up Mettaton’s play! How was your date with sans?”

It barely fazed Dipper to hear it called a date. His mind was on too many other things.

“Do you remember what the Journal said about time travel?” Dipper asked.

“Hmm…I’m not sure about the Journal, but there was that Blendin’ guy,” Mabel said.

“That’s what I was thinking too,” said Dipper. “No matter how we get back home, we need to remember to find a way to contact him.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Mabel said. “I’ll make a note of it in this cool notebook I bought from the turtle!”

[leonawriter]

Under Every Grief

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Rating: T - for implied canon-typical violence, as well as implied sexual content.

Pairing: Virgil/Nero’s Mother

Summary: Some people leave us simply by refusing to move on. Vergil feels that she should have come with him; she wishes that he would have stayed.

In the end, none of them get what they want, or what they need.

[Title from "Auguries of Innocence" by William Blake. 

"Under every grief & pine Runs a joy with silken twine..."]

...

"The books on these shelves over here are the ones that everyone agrees are more fiction than fact. The ones over there are more factual and generally thought to be historical accounts."

That was the first thing she'd said to him.

In fact, at first he hadn't even realised that he wasn't alone in the Order's library, which had been just as much of an embarrassment as anything. He should have known, should have noticed. 

The memory of not just his mother, but also his father nearly tripping over him when he'd lost track of time reading and hadn't even thought to find a chair to sit in passed through his mind, and he scowled. Those times were past, long gone, and were no longer relevant. He was here to investigate the history of this place, and its ties to Sparda, not poetry and classic literature.

Still, he had appreciated the advice, and she hadn't disturbed him after that, apparently too lost in her own reading material to even look up.

It was when he had gone through an entire pile of books that he'd started to become frustrated. At Fortuna, for having shoddy record keeping, and for revering a demon they knew so little about. At Sparda himself, at his family, at himself for not being able to focus-

"They're dry reading, I should have warned you. Sorry. Maybe you should rest your eyes and you'll find what you were looking for when you come back? If you leave the books there, they'll be waiting for you. I'll make sure. Promise not to peek, either."

He should have just ignored her. Perhaps he should even have threatened her to get out of the library and leave him in peace.

Instead, he found himself nodding curtly and gathering himself up.

A walk and some fresh air ought to clear that head of yours.

The city had a problem with demons. Perhaps he could vent some of his frustrations on them, even if they weren't much of a threat or challenge to his skills.

...

Even though he'd told himself that he wouldn't get attached, that he was only passing through, by the end of the day he knew her name - Rachel - and her preference in literature.

By the end of the week he knew what the inside of her home looked like - nothing particularly impressive, and in fact rather small and uninspiring, except for the personal touches - the fact that she couldn't cook, and when he admitted finally that he had been resting in the dark corners of the library after it was supposed to be shut, the shape of her sofa.

He's begun to build up habits, he realises, when she says you aren't going to be staying for long, are you.

It stops him short.

It takes him longer than it should have done to agree, to say that no, he wasn't, that he'd never intended to stay, that he would be leaving as soon as he'd finished his work here.

He turns back to his books, the libraries books, telling their stories of the power his father had wielded-

"You could," she say. "Stay, I mean." He freezes. The light he's reading by flickers in his eye and turns into fire-shadows. "For as long as you like. I just mean... never mind. I shouldn't have asked. You've clearly got more important things to do."

He tells himself she's right, and tries his best to ignore how tempting the idea of belonging somewhere is.

It's not as though there isn't enough on the island that reminds him how unrealistic that idea would be, with constant reminders of a misguided people worshipping Sparda as a god conflicting with his own very real memories of the man.

...

He saves her life when she strays a little too far from safety one day, apparently having decided to try and read in the open air and gone too far.

He shouts at her as she shakes, as she cries, expects her to go running back home after having seen him show his demonic capabilities, and doesn't know what to do, how to react, when she instead throws herself onto him, getting her tears on the intricate embroidery of his clothes.

They're mostly silent on the way back, after finding the book that she'd dropped and that was miraculously unharmed. Silent apart from the way that he can still hear her uneven breathing, and see her sniffling into her handkerchief every so often.

He himself is frustrated that his plans were interrupted. There was something he had wanted to inspect further in, but now he was walking her back home and grinding his teeth at the possibilities that kept presenting themselves.

What if he hadn't arrived in time.

What if she'd come out earlier.

What if she'd gone further.

What if he hadn't been able to find her-

It makes him feel powerless, helpless in the face of chance, and he tells himself that he needs to leave, that he can't stay, because he has to do what he had come here for and that was all. He can't do anything else.

His own power alone isn't enough. He needs more. More, to make sure that things like chance and luck have nothing to do with it next time anything like that happens again.

(He doesn't realise he's thinking of this as being again already until it's too late. He'll always wonder what he would have done if he'd caught himself that much earlier, but that's another thing he's helpless against - the past, and being unable to change it.)

...

I'm making a mistake, he thinks, some time later.

Instead of lying on her sofa, he's lying in her bed, under a quilt that looks and feels as if it has to have been made by hand. He can still see his clothes, his coat lying on the back of a chair as if it belonged there, and Yamato leaning up against the wall and reflecting the sunlight off its sheath. 

He feels warm. He feels comfortable. He feels safe.

This isn't going to last, his instincts tell him. 

The world had come crashing down around him the last time he had thought that he was safe, after all.

...

He doesn't know which side of his mind he should listen to, after that.

He wants to forget and just allow himself this small comfort, a moment of peace. But he also knows that without more power, any such moment of peace will be as fleeting as the last, or the next - flying out of his grasp like smoke in the wind.

She burns the toast on the grill, and she laughs about it.

He has to leave when the realisation that she had been calling his name for the past several minutes makes him feel a disturbing sort of nausea, a vertigo he can't get rid of-

He doesn't come back until well after moonrise, having spent most of his frustrations out on the local demon population, leaving dents and rends in the areas further afield.

He wants so badly, he wants and he doesn't know how to express exactly what, can't put the words to it all no matter how good he is with deciphering words or using them, because the simple idea that she keeps bringing up - stay, won't you? - is one that he can't agree to.

He screams, a roar of fury and rage against the world itself, making his throat raw afterward in the silence of the slowly dissipating demonic bodies.

If anyone had heard him, he thinks as he makes his way back, none of the tension relieved, he wouldn't have been surprised if they had mistaken him for one of the demons he had slain.

...

For the first time, he asks her if she would come with him, when he leaves.

They're in the library. The pile of books in front of him has been whittled down, and in just a day or so he'll be done. He won't need to stay on the island, in Fortuna, any longer. 

She hesitates. 

"It was only a suggestion," he says brusquely. Echoing her own words from earlier that month.

The realisation that he's been there nearly a month in itself is enough to make his heart do something strange in his chest - some odd mix of contentment and dread. He's been here too long.

"I know," she says. "Thank you," she says. 

It isn't an agreement.

I can't protect you if you aren't there with me, if you won't let me, if I leave and you don't come too, he wants to say, but the words die in his throat.

...

"This is my home," she says the next day, "this, and that little place... it's mine, and it's all I have left of my family, and I know you have important things to do, but I can't just leave all of this behind."

Family, he thinks, is overrated.

Something tells him that this is a bad thing to say, but he can't keep the bitterness out of his face, and he knows that she's seen when her face falls.

...

Vergil leaves, and when he does it is without saying goodbye.

It hurts more than it should. She had seen it coming, after all, and she shouldn't have expected anything else. But no matter the face she puts up in front of her neighbours and the pride she keeps around the Order, she can't help but break down in tears when she gets home again that night.

The sight of her couch being completely empty, two mugs on the table from the previous night that she still hadn't put away yet, they're all things that make her feel dizzyingly like he is both only gone for a while, that he'll be back later that night, and also that no matter what either of them had or hadn't said, there would never be a next meeting, never be a next time, that he'd never come back-

She misses him, and he's barely even gone.

...

She looks at the statue of Sparda - It doesn't look anything like what I remember of him, nor of any other sources. Ridiculous is what it is - and wonders what the man would have made of all of this. 

By Vergil's account, the god - the demon - was dead, now. They were worshipping a demon that wasn't even alive anymore, who had chosen to live as a man. Some part of her felt that the sheer realisation of this was more blasphemous than any of the fictitious stories that the storytellers had come up with over the thousands of years Fortuna had existed, but she couldn't bring herself to feel any shame or guilt. 

She had met his son, after all.

She had fallen in love with his son.

If you were alive, she wonders, what would you have thought of me? Would you have been happy with me? Would you have told him to stay, or would he have still left?

It ultimately didn't matter what he thought, though, she realises emptily. 

...

They ask her who the father is, when she starts to show, and she knows that there is only one person it could be, because she's only been with one person. 

She doesn't tell them his name.

Enough people, she thinks, would know the stories - or that there will be stories - for it to be safe. Vergil had worried about protecting her, about not being powerful enough, and perhaps if she didn't draw attention to the child's heritage, then they wouldn't need to be protected.

Except that not drawing attention was the one thing she didn't seem capable of doing.

When everyone lived on an island community, sooner or later everyone knew everyone else, and it wasn't long until they all realised that the father had to be either someone from further afield, possibly on the mainland, or that whoever it was... simply wasn't coming clean about it.

It only took a little longer for the rumours to start.

The dirty looks, the shuffles away in public places, the withdrawal of help when she needed it the most.

...

She named him Nero, wrapped him in the quilt her mother had made, one of the only things she had left of her family that she could give to him, and left him on the doorstep of the orphanage.

If I can help you by doing this, if you can live a better life at all... then it'll be worth it. It has to be worth it.

...

AN: I'm just going to say again how I've gone through the first four games and several episodes of the anime but none of the side materials other than what the wiki has to offer, and knowledge of 5 through osmosis and so on; I did my best to make this fit with what I know and what I figure makes sense, but I'm gonna take it as a given that there might be errors in some places.

Also, I am aware of what the kids bullying Nero told him, but that's a biased account. Just because a bully says something, doesn't make it true.

This really only started with me trying to imagine the kind of person Nero's mother (who is named after a character in Dante's Inferno here) could have been, and a mix of the first few scenes. The rest just carried on from there as a sort of... "well, I can't just leave it at that, can I?".

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 3 Chapter 4

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Start from beginning / Previous chapter / Next chapter

Chapter 4

More people came outside. They stared at the zombies. The zombies stared back.

Finally one woman moved and pulled a shotgun from behind her back. “KILL ‘EM IN THE HEAD!”

Frisk rushed out between them. They started to sign.

“THEY HAVE A HOSTAGE!”

“SOMEBODY SAVE THAT CHILD!”

Frisk tried to say something else. They were shoved back before they could get their hands up, past the crowd of the zombies.

Judge Hopkins took them by the shoulders and steadied them. With one hand, he gave them back the book of fairy tales and the notebook. With the other, he took his hand of Frisk’s shoulder and pointed into the forest.

Frisk nodded in understanding.

A gunshot rang through the increasingly large crowd. Judge Hopkins nearly fell over as it collided with his stomach. Instantly, Frisk opened up their FIGHT menu and ran a Check.

Judge Hopkins 80 ATK 80 DEF

He fell down a long time ago. He let his fear control him.

“Are you serious?” said Norman and Alphys at the same time.

“OHHHHHH YESSS!!!” said Mettaton. “GOOD EVENING, BEAUTIES AND GENTLEBEAUTIES! THIS IS METTATON, REPORTING LIVE FROM MTT NEWS!

“AN INTERESTING SITUATION HAS ARISEN IN EASTERN HOTLAND! FORTUNATELY, OR CORRESPONDENT IS OUT THERE, REPORTING LIVE! BRAVE CORRESPONDENT! PLEASE FIND SOMETHING NEWSWORTHY TO REPORT! OUR TEN WONDERFUL VIEWERS ARE WAITING FOR YOU!!”

It was a bit hard to see clearly with the sets Mettaton had put up, but there were objects that looked out of place scattered across the platform. A basketball that looked more plush that rubber, a binder, a CD case…

“A dog?” Norman asked aloud.

The dog barked and wagged its tail at him.

“WHAT A SENSATIONAL OPPORTUNITY FOR A STORY!” said Mettaton. “A DOG EXISTS SOMEWHERE. FRANKLY, I’M BLOWN AWAN.”

The dog continued to wag its tail. A glint of black and orange at the end made Norman’s head turn.

“MY COULD THAT BE…IT IS! IT’S A BOMB!”

The backdrops fell apart. Mettaton hovered closer to Norman.

“OH MY!” said Mettaton. “IT APPEARS EVERYTHING IN THIS ROOM IS A BOMB! THAT PRESENT’S A BOMB! THAT BASKETBALL’S A BOMB! EVEN MY WORDS ARE—!”

Boom!

“BRAVE CORRESPONDENT,” Mettaton continued. “IF YOU DO NOT DEFUSE ALL OF THESE BOMBS, THS BIG BOMB WILL BLOW YOU TO SMITHEREENS IN TWO MINUTES! THEN YOU WON’T BE REPORTING ‘LIVE’ ANY LONGER! HOW TERRIBLE! HOW DISTURBING! OUR NINE VIEWERS ARE GOING TO LOVE WATCHING THIS! GOOD LUCK DARLING!!”

Panic swelled in Norman. Was he being serious?

The phone rang.

“Is now really the time?” Norman asked as he answered.

Alphys squeaked. “S-sorry, but don’t worry! I installed a bomb-defusing program on your phone!”

That one took Norman aback.

“Why would you have thought of that?” Norman asked.

“u-uh, I—“

“YOU’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME, DARLING!!” Mettaton spoke up.

He was right. Norman would just have to ask about that later.

The riots did not stop even after Frisk got away. They wondered if there was anything that could make them stop. They dove inside a nearby alley and hid. Occasionally, they would poke their head behind the corner and watch as things got progressively worse.

There was fire now. The smoke blended in with the rest of the storm.

It took longer for the Cat to find them. The townspeople were probably superstitious of him, too. He gave Frisk a quick glance over to see they weren’t seriously hurt. His eyes narrowed at the book in their hands.

The Witch was watching them. The swirling clouds above began to take shape, and two glowing eyes stared down at them.

Frisk opened up the book and opened their mouth. Their voice seized up.

The cloud’s mouth opened. The sounds of cackling collided with the sounds of thunder. Lighting struck down, and as Frisk faded into unconsciousness, they heard something.

“I’m not listening to that story anymore.”

NAPSTABLOOK22 sent you a friend request. Accept?

The notification vanished before Norman could even tap it.

Seems like it rejected itself… said the Undernet.

Norman sighed as he put the phone away. He would have to find a way to talk to Napstablook later. Right now, he had more pressing concerns.

Behind this door must be the elevator to the King’s Castle. If he could get through it, and then get past the king, he would be home. Something swelled in him that he could not quite place as he stepped inside.

The room was surprisingly empty. Only a few lights were overhead, as dim as they could get. A chill ran down Norman’s spine as he took a few more steps forward. He wasn’t sure if he should be surprised when he saw Mettaton waiting.

“OH YES,” said Mettaon. “THERE YOU ARE, DARLING. IT’S TIME TO HAVE OUR LITTLE SHOWDOWN. IT’S TIME TO FINALLY STOP THE ‘MALFUNCTIONING’ ROBOT. …NOT!!!

“MALFUNCTIONING? REPROGRAMMING? GET REAL. THIS WAS ALL JUST A BIG SHOW. AN ACT. ALPHYS HAS BEEN PLAYING YOU A FOOL THE WHOLE TIME. AND NOW, IT’S TIME FOR HER FINEST HOUR.  AT THIS VERY MOMENT, ALPHYS IS WAITING OUTSIDE THE ROOM. DURING OUR ‘BATTLE’, SHE WILL INTERRUPT. SHE WILL PRETEND TO ‘DEACTIVATE’ ME, ‘SAVING’ YOU ONE FINAL TIME. FINALLY. SHE’LL BE THE HERO OF YOUR ADVENTURE. YOU’LL  REGARD HER SO HIGHLY SHE’LL EVEN BE ABLE TO CONVINCE YOU NOT TO LEAVE. …OR NOT. YOU SEE, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS PREDICTABLE CHARADE. I HAVE NO DESIRE TO HARM HUMANS. FAR FROM IT, ACTUALLY. MY ONLY DESIRE IS TO ENTERTAIN. AFTER ALL, THE AUDIENCE DESERVES A GOOD SHOW, DON’T THEY? AND WHAT’S A GOOD SHOW…WITHOUT A PLOT TWIST?”

“h-Hey? What’s going on?” Alphys’ voice echoed from behind the door.

“SORRY, FOLKS! THE OLD PROGRAM’S BEEN CANCELLED!!!” Mettaton continued. “BUT WE’VE GOT A FINALE THAT WILL DRIVE YOU WILD!!”

The platform lit up in magenta stage lights. It shot itself up into the air, Norman and Mettaton still on it.

“REAL DRAMA!! REAL ACTION!! REAL BLOODSHED!! ON OUR NEW SHOW…ATTACK OF THE KILLER ROBOT!”

Norman’s Soul jumped from his body. Instinctively, he reached for the phone and pressed the yellow button.

“THAT WORTHLESS PEA-SHOOTER WON’T WORK ON ME,” said Mettaton. “DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT ACTING IS?”

The phone started to ring. He answered.

“U..uh…I can’t see what’s going on in there, but…” said Alphys on the other end. “Don’t give up! Th…there’s o-one l-l-last way to beat Mettaton. It’s…um…it’s…This is a work in progress, so don’t judge it too hard…if you can turn him around and press the switch on his backside, he’ll…he’ll become…vulnerable. G-gotta go!”

She hung up before Norman could get a word in edgewise.

Mettaton was still monologuing about something. He probably did not even see him on the phone.

If he was right, Norman realized, then there was no reason to trust Alphys. And if he was right, Norman realized, he was out of options anyway.

“H-hey Mettaton,” Norman spoke up. “There’s a mirror behind you, if you want to get ready for your big show?”

“OH???”

Mettaton turned.

The switch was huge, nearly taking up half the back panel. Someone had even taken time to hastily write “SWITCH” with an arrow over it. Norman decided not to waste any time. He jumped forward and flipped it.

Mettaton froze.

“DID YOU. JUST FLIP. MY SWITCH?”

Norman did not get the chance the answer. Mettaton spun. The lights on his face lit on and off randomly. The mechanical bits of him screamed. Puffs of smoke and fumes seeped from his joints, nearly blinding Norman.

And then it stopped.

“OHHH YES…”

“…on this day, you have been charged for the horrible crimes of witchcraft…witnessed by those whose testimonies have been heard…”

They were somewhere dark. Eyes watched them from every corner. Out of the shadows stood the judge.

“…you have been found by this court to be guilty…”

But this was not their judgement.

“I was only playing,” said a weak voice beside them.

There was a girl beside them, only a little older than Frisk. The eyes focused onto her, and she shrank under their gaze.

“Aye,” said the Judge. “Playing with fire! And it is passed on you, according to your grievous crimes, execution!”

The shadows with eyes came out of the shadows and approached them, taking up the space.

“No! I didn’t do anything wrong!” said the girl. “Leave me alone, or I’ll make you sorry! I’ll make you all sorry!”

The girl’s skin lit up with yellow magic, and the bright lights broke apart the darkness.

When Frisk came back around, they were on the floor in an unfamiliar room.

“You know,” said the Cat, his mouth full of their sleeve as he dragged them along. “One of these days you’re going to have to accept that you can’t fix everything.”

It took them a moment to figure out what he was talking about. The storm outside still raged, and the voices of the mob were muffled through the building’s walls.

“OOH, LOOK AT THESE RATINGS! WE’VE REACHED OUR VIEWER CALL IN MILESTONE! ONE LUCKY VIEWER WILL HAVE THE CHANCE TO TALK TO ME…BEFORE I LEAVE THE UNDERGROUND FOREVER! LET’S SEE WHO CALLS IN FIRST!”

The phone started to ring. Norman took a look at the caller ID and his eyebrows shot up. Not knowing what else to do, he put it on speaker.

“HI, YOU’RE ON TV! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY ON THIS, OUR FINAL SHOW?”

“oh…hi Mettaton…” said Napstablook.

And just like that, Mettaton’s demeanor dropped. His wild expressions vanished, now replaced with a thin expression that looked like it was holding back a lot. His eyes drifted from the floor to the phone.

“I really liked watching your show…” said Napstablook. “my life is pretty boring... but…seeing you on the screen…brought excitement to my life…vicariously…”

Mettaton’s expression cracked again, and this time it became clear he was holding back tears.

And then Norman put it together.

“I can’t tell, but…I guess this is the last episode…? I’ll miss you…Mettaton…oh…i didn’t mean to talk for so long…oh……………………”

“NO, WAIT! WAIT, BL—” Mettaton stopped as the dial tone became louder than him. “h—They already hung up...”

“You left him behind,” said Norman.

“I THOUGHT…” said Mettaton. “IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO GET THE BODY I WANTED. THE LIFE I WANTED.”

“And what did you do to the person who got you that life!” Norman said. “You’ve left Alphys behind, too!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN—” Mettaton stopped himself. “HERE, JUST HAND ME MY LEG SO I CAN SLAP MYSELF.”

“What would happen if you took my Soul and crossed the Barrier?” Norman asked. “Would you leave them behind too?”

More and more messages poured from the viewer call in.

“Mettaton, I don’t know what I’ll watch without you!”

“Mettaton, your show made us so happy!”

“Mettaton, there’s a Mettaton-shaped hole in my Mettaton-shaped heart!”

With every new caller, Mettaton’s eyes fell just a little more.

The fight was over. Norman’s Soul retreated back into his body. There wasn’t any point to sticking around. Norman walked past him and went towards the door.

“WAIT, DARLING…” Mettaton spoke up.

Norman stopped, but did not turn back.

“THIS BODY’S ENERGY FORM IS…INSUFFICIENT. IN A FEW MOMENTS, I’LL RUN OUT OF POWER AND…WELL, I’LL BE OKAY. BUT…WOULD IT BE TOO MUCH TROUBLE TO ASK YOU TO TAKE ME TO THE TRANQUIL AREA OF THE WATERFALL? THERE’S…A FEW PEOPLE I NEED TO MAKE UP TO.”

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 2 Chapter 4

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Start from beginning / Previous chapter / Next chapter (soon)

Chapter 4

“I didn’t expect a laboratory in a place like this,” said Greg.

“What?”

Wirt was pulled out of his thoughts as he looked up. A building sat in front of them, plain except for the words “LAB” printed on its side.

“Oh,” said Wirt. “Well, maybe we should go around then.”

“I’m not sure if we can,” said Greg. He pointed to the rest of the road, barely a cliff left from where the lab ended.

“Then we’ll run in,” said Wirt. “And we’ll be very polite and we won’t stick around long enough for them to figure out we’re human.”

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, Spuds McKenzie!”

The frog croaked and hopped towards the lab. Two automatic doors slid open and the three walked in.

There was only one light source in the lab, a monitor that filled the room with an eerie blue glow. There was no one around, Wirt realized. The light hum of machinery felt a lot louder than it really was.

“It’s you!” Greg said, and pointed to the monitor.

Wirt turned. His reflection stared back.

“We’re going,” said Wirt as he pushed his brother through.

They were not halfway through the hallway when the lights snapped on, startling Wirt to a stop. A door opened beside him as a small dinosaur monster walked out. Its eyes instantly fell onto the two.

“Hello!” said Greg.

“Oh. My God.” It breathed. “I didn’t expect you to show up so soon! I haven’t showered, I’m barely dressed, it’s all messy and…”

It stopped its pacing and took a deep breath.

“Uh…h-h-hiya! I’m Dr. Alphys, King ASGORE’s royal scientist,” it said. “B-b-b-but I’m not one of the bad guys! Actually, since you stepped out of the Ruins, I’ve been, uh, been ‘observing’ your journey through my console.”

“We noticed,” said Wirt.

“I-I was originally going to stop you,” said Dr. Alphys “But there’s something about watching people on a screen that really makes you root for them. So I want to help you.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” said Wirt.

“But Wirt!” said Greg. “We could be famous!”

“She’s the only one watching us!” said Wirt. “And that’s weird!”

“A-a-actually, uh…” said Dr. Alphys. “T-t-there is a problem of…that. A long time ago, I made a robot named Mettaton. Originally, I built him to be an entertainment robot. Uh, you know, like a robotic TV star or something. Anyway, recently I decided to make him more useful.  You know, just some small practical adjustments. Like…uh…anti…anti-human combat features? And, uh…now he’s an unstoppable killing machine with a thirst for human blood?”

Wirt’s blood ran cold. A set of heavy thuds filled the room and echoed about.

“So what you’re saying is,” said Greg. “We’re going to be on TV?”

“OH YES!” A highly processed voice rang out through the lab.

The child was not there when the Cat awoke. Neither was Beatrice. The Cat could not help but think these two were related.

“���|ҁ�w6 ,” said the man who spoke in hands.

“I believe they mentioned they can do that,” said the Cat. “Is that why you want me to follow them?”

“ �|ҁ�w6 ?”

“Hardly,” said the Cat.

“e �|?”  said the man, a tease in his voice that the Cat could not quite figure out. “ st-font-�|ҟ�  ҏ� �|Ҏ RESETTING� w6 ?”

The Cat said nothing. He was right of course, and he did not want to admit it out loud.

““,” bri"," MERCY�|Ҍ� w6 ,” said the man. “eigh�|Ҏ �w6.  MERCY “,” reast-theme3|�v�w6 .”

Frisk was the first true visitor to Aunti Whispers’ cottage in a long time. Most visitors just got eaten.

“There’d be no point to eating you, of course,” said Aunti Whispers in a tone that was probably supposed to be jokingly. “You would always just come back. It’d be a waste of perfectly good spices.”

The tea was served by a young woman who was more dust than skin. It was made of golden flowers. Aunti Whispers ordered it especially for them. It was a rare plant in the Unknown, but Frisk recognized the bright colors and sharp fragrance of that in the Underground.  It felt familiar, and not just because of that. It smelled like the Mr. Dad Guy that the Other Toriel had created. It reminded them of the flowers that had broken their fall when they first fell down, and again in the Dump.

“Now go rearrange the bones of the past visitors,” Aunti Whispers said to the servant girl.

“I already have, Aunti Whispers,” the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then clean the floor. Our guests have tracked in quite a bit of mud.”

Frisk couldn’t help but feel a wash of shame as the servant girl’s shoulders slumped and she resumed to her chores. They cocked their head to the side, a quiet indication of confusion.

“It is best that Lorna keeps to her chores,” said Aunti Whispers. “Working will keep the beast within her at bay. Now then, child, what brings you to the Unknown?”

Frisk started to sign.

“I’m afraid I do not know the language of hands,” said Aunti Whispers. She did not say it cruelly, but it was still disappointing. Frisk fetched the paper pad and pen.

How did you know I could Save?

“You are not the first person to enter the Unknown and use the powers of your Soul.” said Aunti Whispers. “A few of them are downstairs now.”

I didn’t know I could do it, wrote down Frisk. They don’t write down the part where they found out they could do it.

Aunti Whispers hummed in thought. “Lorna! Fetch me a book from my bookshelf. Mysteries of the Soul, Volume One. Think it’s by some fellow named Faux.”

“Oh no…” Alphys said.

“OH YES!” Mettaton announced as he popped over the kitchen counter. “WELCOME BEAUTIES AND GENTLEBEAUTIES TO THE UNDERGROUND’S PREMIERE COOKING SHOW! COOKING WITH A KILLER ROBOT!!! PREHEAT YOUR OVENS, BECASE WE’VE GOT A VERY SPECIAL RECIPE FOR YOU!”

“A cake?” Greg asked.

“RIGHT YOU ARE, MY LOVELY ASSISTANT!!!” Mettaton said. “GO AHEAD AND GATHER THE INGREDIENTS. THEY’RE RIGHT ON THE COUNTER BEHIND YOU!!!”

“We’re not going to be a part of any cooking show,” said Wirt.

“It’s just a cake, Wirt,” said Greg. “And the audience is counting on us.”

“LET’S GIVE THEM A HAND FOR ENCOURAGEMENT!!! Mettaton said.

A confetti cannon exploded from behind the kitchen set, covering Wirt.  Greg clapped along before getting to work. He dropped off the eggs on the counter, dropped the sugar on the eggs, and the milk in the sugar.

“PERFECT!!! GREAT JOB BEAUTIFUL!!” Mettaton said. “NOW WE JUST NEED OUR SECRET INGREDIENT!!”

“Love?” Greg asked.

Mettaton held up a chainsaw.

“A HUMAN SOUL!!!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Wirt said. “Don’t you have a substitution or something?”

“WHY WOULD I EVER NEED ONE WHEN THE REAL THING’S RIGHT HERE?” Mettaton asked.

“Well, what if someone’s….vegan?”

“VEGAN?”

“Well—”

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, SWEETHEART!!!” Mettaton said. “ACTUALLY, WE DO HAVE AN OPTION ON SET!! MTT BRAND COMVENIENT HUMAN SOUL SUBSTITUTE!!!”

Mettaton pointed off the kitchen set and out of the room. A wooden cabinet with a jar sat in the corner.

“That looks suspicious,” Wirt said.

“YOUR IDEA, BEAUTIFUL.” Mettaton said.

“I’ll get it! I’m a lovely assistant!” Greg said.

Greg ran off the set. The cameras followed him. No sooner did he lay a hand on the counter did it shoot up into the sky, taking Greg with him.

Wirt let out a series of panicked noises he could not quite form into words.

“OH DEAR. WHAT A TRAGEDY,” said Mettaton. “WELL, WE’RE ON A SCHEDULE, SWEETHEART. IF YOU CAN’T GET THEM BACK IN ONE MINUTE, WE’LL HAVE TO MOVE ONTO THE ORIGINAL PLAN!!!”

The phone rang.

“I know this looks bad,” said Alphys. “B-but I think I have an idea. S-see that button on your phone that says JET PACK?”

Wirt looked down at the phone.

“Press it,” said Alphys.

Wirt knew exactly where this was going.

“TIME’S RUNNING OUT, SWEETHEART!” Mettaton reminded.

Wirt swallowed, looked up to Greg so he wouldn’t have to look at the phone, and pressed the button.

He was a good twenty feet in the air before he could process his feet left the ground. He was not much higher when Mettaton began to throw things at him. The sense of vertigo faded as his attention shifted to dodging puffs of flour, eggs, and cups of sugar.

He had passed Greg by the time he was actually able to get his bearings. He looked just in time to see the jar that Greg had tossed it start to fall. Neither of them could catch it in time. It collided to the ground in a mess of glass and red goo.

“HUH,” said Mettaton. “HOW ABOUT WE GO TO A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS, AND WE’LL FINISH UP WITH THE CAKE WE MADE AHEAD OF TIME!”

Mettaton flew off closer to the real set. Wirt managed to catch himself and fly down as the dresser coiled back into himself.

“That was fun!” said Greg.

“That was terrifying!” said Wirt.

He pulled Greg closer to him, stopping him from going back to the set. Mettaton was talking to his cameramen, and wouldn’t see if they left.

“How about we leave before he notices we’re gone?” Wirt asked.

“But I wanted to try the cake,” said Greg.

It took Lorna a minute to find the book. It was old and musty, with binding falling apart at the seams and pages nearly yellow with age. It was big enough that it hit the table with a thud, regardless of how carefully Lorna put it down. Aunti Whispers turned the page carefully, leaning in as she read. Frisk tried their best to read over her head. They could only make out vague shapes; heats in different colors with pigment that faded over time, and carefully sketched triangle patterns.

“Souls hold a type of power,” read Aunti Whispers. “It holds their owner together and shapes their personality, no matter what they may go through in life. Bravery, Justice, Kindness, Patience, Perseverance, Integrity…the strongest of these, Determination. The power is rare, but its powers are innate. The ability to persist after death, or rewind time. To fix what went wrong, or what went right.”

I thought it was like a video game, wrote down Frisk. Every time I felt determined, it was like I was saving the game.

Aunti Whispers made a face of confusion. Frisk supposed she did not understand what a video game was.

“I will admit my knowledge of how Souls work is lacking,” she said. “That was not the kind of magic I work with. If you truly want to find the powers of your Soul, you should try to look within the Kingdom of Monsters.”

Frisk perked up.

That’s what I want to do! They wrote. Do you know how to get there?

“There is a way,” said Aunti Whispers. “But I do not know it. How did you end up in the Unknown in the first place?”

Another wash of shame overcame Frisk as they started writing. I reset.

Aunti Whispers studied them carefully, eyes cold with something Frisk could not read. “Were you here before?”

Frisk shook their head. They started to write things down, that they were in the Underground at first and then the Other World, but Aunti Whispers spoke again.

“The other ones that used Determination were much older than you, you realize. They were much more in control of what they could do. If you came about the power recently, you may not be well-equipped to use it. One small slip, and you may have traded places with someone.”

Frisk nodded.

I know I have, they sign. That’s why I want to go back. But not before I fix things.

Aunti Whispers did not understand.

Lorna did not fall asleep until well into the night, as her body finally collapsed from exhaustion. Frisk did not fall asleep until after that. Though Aunti Whispers had proven she had no ill will towards them, her house was not exactly comfortable sleeping in.

When they woke up, Lorna made them a small breakfast of things they couldn’t quite eat and more tea. Aunti Whispers only emerged to give Lorna more orders and give a final warning to Frisk.

“Beware my sister, Adelaide. She lives in the pasture. She must not be trusted.”

The Cat was waiting for them outside the house, curled up in a tree.

“I was wondering when you’d step out,” said the Cat. He sounded like he did not care. “I take it that little trick was how you ended up in the Other World, yes?”

Frisk nodded.

Didn’t mean to, they signed. You were in danger.

The Cat watches them carefully, as if looking for a sign they were lying. His sign reading was not too good, but he could ready body language.

“I don’t believe Beatrice will be joining us again,” said the Cat. “Do you know the cause of that?”

Frisk nodded. They didn’t want to say, and the Cat probably would not understand them anyway.

The two of them head off into the unknown.

Author’s Note: I am so sorry for the late update! I drank too much eggnog and lost track of time! Hopefully this should be the last of it, and the good news is I’ll post the next chapter tomorrow since it is rather short.

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 4 Chapter 3

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Chapter 3

“Behind you.”

Dipper tensed up at the Echo Flower’s message. The sound of metal footsteps grows closer.

“Don’t tell me she’s right behind us,” said Dipper.

“Okay,” said Mabel.

“Seven,” said Undyne. “Seven human souls. With the power of seven human souls, our king, King Asgore Dreemurr, will become a god. With that power, Asgore can finally shatter the Barrier. He will finally take the surface back from humanity, and give them back the suffering and pain we have endured. I suppose…he will have a use for two. But first, however, as is customary for those who have travelled this far, I will tell you the story of our people. It all started long ago…

“You know what? SCREW IT! WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU THAT STORY?? WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO DIE?? NGHAAAAHH!!!!!”

In a fluid motion, Undyne ripped off her helmet. One eye glinted in the low lights of the Waterfall.

“You two!” said Undyne. “You’re standing in the way of everybody’s hopes and dreams! Alphys’s history books made me think humans were cool…with their giant robots and flowery swordswomen. But you? You’re just cowards. Your life is all that stands between us and our freedom! Right now, I feel everyone’s hearts pounding together! Everyone’s been waiting their whole lives for this moment! When everyone puts their hearts together, they can’t lose! I’ll show you how determined monsters can be!”

Undyne summoned her spear. Dipper’s Soul leaped out of his chest, and turned a bright green color.

“Wait, what does the green do?” Dipper asked.

“Unless you learn to face danger head-on, you won’t last a second against me!!” said Undyne.

Undyne attacks.

A set of bullets in the shape of arrows fly past Dipper. A few break apart as they collide with Dipper’s Soul, bouncing off some sort of shield. Most don’t.

“When I said face danger head-on, I MEANT DODGE THE BULLETS!!!”

“The Kingdom of Monsters resides in these mountains, within the caverns of Mount Ebott,” said one of the heads of the Multibear. “There is a path in this cavern that connects this cavern from this one, but know this: there is no way to exit once you enter.”

With everything else that had been going on, Frisk had nearly forgotten about the Barrier. It was just going to be something else that they did, they decided.

“We will find a way around that,” said the Cat.

“You are determined, then,” said the Multibear. “It will serve you well. We creatures of the forest have long forgotten about Mt. Ebott. The Barrier has shielded us from our brethren for centuries. It would be relieving to be reunited, don’t you agree?”

Frisk nodded again. The Cat squirmed, but they could not tell why.

“I can take you as far as the Barrier, but no farther,” said the Multibear. “And I suggest you prepare in advance.”

“It is quite late,” said the Cat. “If nothing else, I would like the chance to rest.”

“Then I await your return,” said the Multibear.

She disappeared into the shadows again. After a few moments, Frisk heard the sound of an Icelandic pop song in the distance.

They hardly paid attention to the Manutaur’s chorus of boos as they left the cavern. The Cat climbed up onto their shoulders.

“We should head back into town,” said the Cat. “We both need food and rest, and it would not hurt for you to find something you can defend yourself with.”

Frisk nodded. To be honest, the humans scared them more than the Multibear.

“HEY! WHAT’S UP?! I WAS JUST THINKING…YOU, ME, THE OTHER HUMAN, AND UNDYNE SHOULD ALL HANG OUT SOMETIME!! I THINK YOU WOULD MAKE GREAT PALS!!!

“Papyrus this is not a good time for that!” Mabel shouted into the phone as she dodged arrow bullets flying towards it.

“COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE PUNKS!!” Undyne shouted. She was right behind them.

“OKAY! LET’S MEET UP AT HER HOUSE LATER!”

The Waterfall area ended, as suddenly as if Mabel had stepped into another room. The new area was hot and dry, and the dark cave walls became a heavy shade of red. Mabel looked just below her the cliff sides and saw pools of magma.

Undyne was still behind her.

Mabel looked back up and fought the sudden urge or vertigo. She ducked around the corner, and came face to face with a familiar skeleton.

“SANS!” Mabel cried. “sans, help us out!”

sans did not stir from his sleep.

“Come on!” Dipper shouted as he caught up with her.

Undyne was right behind them.

Mabel ran, and the sounds of metal footsteps became more distant. The sounds of Undyne screaming at sans replaced it. There was a sound of a rimshot from…somewhere, and then the metal footsteps increased.

Undyne was right behind them.

Mabel and Dipper spun around and faced her. Mabel looked at Dipper for any indication he had a plan. It was clear he did not.

Undyne took one step towards them. Then another. Then she fell over.

“Oh,” said Dipper. “Well that was anticlimactic.”

The smell of sushi wafted in the air, reminding Mabel of Mermando. And then she realized.

“Wait, she’s a fish! She’s drying out in her armor!” Mabel turned to Dipper. “We have to help her! Do your reverse CPR!”

Dipper glared at her.

“I’M SERIOUS THIS TIME!”

“Okay, fine, I’ll…” Dipper trailed off as he looked for his plan. He settled on a water cooler tucked into the corner. “Fine!”

The water cooler was naturally rather slow, but that was the only part of the plan that was. Dipper raced to and fro as he filled his cup and propped Undyne up in a position needed for CPR. He threw the water into his mouth, and sealed his lips with Undyne.

Once Undyne regained consciousness, she was not very happy about the situation. But she did not say anything. She did not attack them again. She took one long look at them, and left.

“That was awkward,” said Dipper. “Promise me you won’t hold that against me.”

“Of course not!” said Mabel. “But what should I tell Papyrus when we go on our date with Undyne?”

Dipper froze.

“You did not.”

“It was Papyrus’s idea!”

There was a pie sitting out on the windowsill by the diner. Frisk vaguely recalled that was a good way to cool it. The only person she had ever seen bake was Toriel, but she never put her pies out because there was no wind that could have cooled it.

The thought of stealing made their stomach flip. They remembered the monster candy in the Ruins, and how they never stopped feeling bad about it until the bad runs. But the flipping in their stomach would be much worse if they didn’t steal.

The gnomes beat them to it.

“Hey, kid, this is our stash!” said one of the gnomes. Frisk vaguely recalled them as the one the Cat had chased.

The Cat hissed. Most of the gnomes stiffened, but did not otherwise move. The leader reached for another gnome by the beard, and held the sharp point of their hat out like a knife.

Frisk made a motion for the Cat to stand down. It was not worth a fight.

“Good,” said the gnome as he put the other gnome down. “And while we’re at it, can you…um…”

He made a few vague motions for Frisk to grab the pie. They obliged, and handed it down to them.

“Thanks kid!” He called as the gnomes scampered off.

“Really?” said the Cat. “We’re going to have to find our own food now.”

Frisk shrugged.

“Hey kid!”

The Mystery Man stood behind them. He shifted uncomfortably as Frisk looked at him, and avoided eye contact.

“You uh…wouldn’t happen to be looking for someplace to eat, are you?”

Frisk nodded.

The Mystery Man folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t suppose you would want to come with me then?”

Frisk nodded again, this time more enthusiastically.

“Fine. But you’re paying!”

Frisk stuck their tongue out playfully. It reminded them of sans, and of good times.

The diner was small and cozy. It looked to be on the verge of closing, and only one waitress was still out.

“Hey Stan!” She greeted. “Care for a late night snack?”

“Hey Susan. Split me a quarter of the Number 7, and a side of ketchup for the kid,” said

“You got it!”

The waitress left, and they were alone.

“So, uh…” said Stan. “Your parents around here, anywhere?”

Frisk shook their head no.

“So, summer camp or somethin’?”

Frisk shook their head no again.

“You’re on your own then?”

Frisk shrugged.

Stan fell silent for a moment. He was still avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t talk much, do ya?”

Frisk shrugged again. They could feel the Cat’s tail flicking back and forth against their leg. He probably was not sure whether he should speak up or not.

“Well,” said Stan. “Do you at least have a safe place to stay for the night?”

Frisk was not sure. The clones had offered them a camping spot, and they did have the clearing where they spent the night before. But with the Manutaurs against them, it might not be the safest place to stay.

“Well, you know where the Shack is. You might have to compete for a bed with the goat…or with Soos…but it’s better than nothing, believe me,” said Stan. “We were supposed to be having a party tonight, but…guess that ain’t happenin’. It’d be nice to have some kind of company.”

The waitress came back with the food. Stan started to stand from the table.

“Go ahead and put it on my tab, Suze,” said Stan. “I gotta get goin’. Make sure Soos closes down right, and see if the kids haven’t come back yet. You take care, kid.”

Stan walked out, and then it was just Frisk and the Cat.

The ketchup healed quite a bit. Frisk was actually rather surprised. They guessed that was why sans drank it all the time.

“OHO! THE HUMANS ARRIVE!”  said Papyrus. “READY TO BECOME TOTALLY BEST FRIENDS WITH UNDYNE??!”

“Yeah, Papyrus, I don’t think—” Dipper started.

“You bet!” Mabel said.

“GREAT!!! WE ARE GOING TO BE THE BEST OF FRIENDS!!!”

“I don’t think she’s going to want to be friends with us,” said Dipper, to nobody but himself.

“Hey Papyrus,” said Undyne as the door opened. “Ready for your extra special one-on-one training?”

Undyne looked differently than when they had last seen her. She was out of her armor, and into a casual outfit of sweat pants and a tank top. Her scales were much more visible than before, as were the muscles they covered. Her hair was still tied back, but it was much looser than before. She did not look like the kind of person that would have chased two kids to their death.

“YOU BET I AM!!! AND I BROUGHT SOME FRIENDS!!”

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve—” Undyne stopped as she got a good look at her guests. She spoke through gritted teeth. “Why don’t. You come. Inside?”

Papyrus gave the twins a look, danced on the welcome mat as he tried to clean his boots, and walked inside. Mabel gave him a look and followed suit.

Undyne’s house was ordinary as well. In fact, it was rather cute for someone who was the head of the Royal Guard. Yet the air was thick with tension.

Papyrus did not seem to notice.

“OH, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?!?” Papyrus said “I HAVE TO UM…USE THE BATHROOM! I’LL BE RIGHT BACK!!!”

With that, Papyrus promptly flung himself out the window. It was a while until Dipper heard the landing thud outside.

“I hate it when he does that,” said Undyne. Her attention turned towards them. “So why are you here?”

“We’re here to become friends!” said Mabel.

“Really?” Undyne asked. “How delightful!! I accept! Let’s all frolick in the fields of friendship! …NOT!”

The light that was in Mabel’s eyes quickly extinguished.

“Why would I ever be friends with you?” said Undyne. “If you weren’t my houseguests, I’d beat you up right now! You’re the enemy of everyone’s hopes and dreams! I WILL NEVER BE YOUR FRIEND. Now get out of my house!”

Papyrus’ head poked back in to what was supposed to be the window.

“DANG. WHAT A SHAME. I THOUGHT YOU TWO COULD BE REALLY GOOD FRIENDS WITH UNDYNE. BUT I GUESS…I OVERESTIMATED HER. SHE’S JUST NOT UP TO THE CHALLENGE!!!”

He was gone as quickly as he arrived.

“CHALLENGE?” Undyne roared. “He thinks I can’t be friends with you? Fuhuhu!! What a joke! Listen up humans!! We’re not just going to become friends. We’re gonna be BESTIES. Now why don’t you two have a seat?”

There was no one at the Mystery Shack when Stan returned. So he did what he usually did on a late Thursday night. It was what he did most nights, and it was what he was planning on doing before the kids talked him into a party.  It just so happened that tonight was a more involved process.

It won’t be long now.

The vat of radioactive waste collided with Stan’s toe.

“HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES!” He shouted. “Wait, if no one’s here, then I can swear for real! SON OF A—”

“Excuse me,” a new voice spoke up.

The vat shook more as Stan jumped towards the source. A black cat, the same one that hung around the strange kid, sat on the counter.  He had seen the Cat talk before, when he had spotted the kid trying to steal Lazy Susan’s pie. At that point, however, he was doing his best to forget the gnomes that had followed them. The fact that the Cat had spoken was shocking, but it was just more Gravity Falls weirdness.

It won’t be long now.

The Cat eyed the vat.

“Oh, just go ahead and ignore that,” He said, feeling just a bit foolish.“The kid here too?”

“Yes,” said the Cat. “And they are asleep. I would appreciate if you don’t wake them up. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“Think the town’s gonna form an angry mob to chase you out?”

“No,”

“Then it’s not my problem,” said Stan. “TV’s in the other room, if you make off with the cash register I’ll be very impressed but I’ll still hunt you down.”

“Noted,” said the Cat. “Pleasant dreams.”

It’s been a long time since he’s had any pleasant dreams, but it won’t be long now.

With Undyne on a mission to befriend them, it was surprisingly easy to talk to her.  They talked about the Underground, whether or not Papyrus would ever join the Royal Guard and how Undyne met Asgore. They talked about Gravity Falls and the Surface, what kind of weaponry humans wielded and whether or not ice cream men are preludes to terror.  

(It took Dipper a while to realize that, despite everything, they have yet to have a problem with the ice cream man. This was probably a good thing.)

It was only when Undyne stood to get them more tea when the atmosphere turned tense again.

“Wait a second,” said Undyne. “Papyrus’ cooking lesson…he was supposed to have that right now!! And if he’s not here to have it...THEN YOU TWO WILL HAVE TO DO!”

Undyne jumped onto the kitchen counter. The containers of tea and hot chocolate collided to the ground.

“NOTHING has brought Papyrus and I closer than cooking!” said Undyne. “So if I give you the lesson, WE’LL BECOME CLOSER THAN YOU CAN EVER IMAGINE!!!”

She jumped again, and landed on the broken kitchen table. She seized the twins up by their hair and bounded towards the stovetop.

“FIRST WE’LL MAKE THE SAUCE!” said Undyne.

Mabel and Dipper were dropped onto the stovetop. She stomped on the ground, and a set of vegetables fell from the ceiling and onto the counter.

“Envision these vegetables as your greatest enemy,” said Undyne. “Now!! Pound them to dust with your fist!!”

“I didn’t think cooking was such an involved sport,” said Dipper.

Mabel, however, couldn’t be more excited. She swung her fish down and squashed the solanum.

“THERE YOU GO! NGHAAAH!!!” said Undyne.

She swung her spear down. The vegetables exploded.

“We’ll just scrape that in a bowl later,” said Undyne. “Now, we add the noodles!”

She stomped again, and two pots fell perfectly onto the stovetop. With another passionate cry, she flung something towards the twins. Mable fumbled for a second before she caught it.

“Just go ahead and put them in the pot,” said Undyne.

“You got it, boss!”

Mabel ripped open the box and threw it in. It collided with the empty bottom.

“As a general rule of thumb, the more you stir the pasta, THE BETTER IT BECOMES!!” said Undyne. “Ready?”

“Don’t you need to add water?” Dipper asked.

“LET’S DO IT!”

Mabel stirred as fast as her arms would let her. Undyne summoned another spear and beat it until the pot was collapsing in on itself.

“Now for the final step: TURN UP THE HEAT!!” said Undyne. “Let the stovetop symbolize your passion! Let your hopes and dreams turn into a burning fire! Don’t hold anything back!!!”

Mabel turned the dial, and turned it, and turned it more. She only stopped when she noticed the pot catch on fire.

“Okay, maybe that’s--”

“HOTTER, DAMNIT!!” Undyne cried as she reached over the stovetop.

The flames rose.

“Man,” said Undyne. “No wonder Papyrus sucks at cooking.”

Dipper was too busy trying to not catch on fire to notice.

“So what’s next?” Undyne asked. “Scrapbooking? Friendship bracelets?”

“Yeah!” said Mabel. “Let’s do it!”

“Oh who are we kidding? I’ve been defeated. My house is in shambles. And I failed to make you two my friends,” said Undyne. “I guess some people aren’t meant to get along. But that’s okay. Because if we can’t be friends…THEN I CAN DESTROY YOU WITHOUT REGRET!!!”

Undyne summoned her spear again.

“Wait, wait don’t!” said Dipper. “We still want to be your friends! Really!”

“AN ALL OUT REMATCH ON BOTH SIDES! IT’S THE ONLY WAY FOR ME TO REGAIN MY LOST PRIDE!!” said Undyne.

Mabel looked at Dipper, and the twins hatched a plan.

They lightly shoved Undyne into the counter.

“What?” said Undnye. “That’s the best you can manage?”

“We still want to be your friends,” said Mabel. “And friends generally don’t destroy other friends!”

Undyne looked lost for a minute. Eventually, she closed her eyes and sighed. Her spear faded before it could fall to the ground.

“I don’t want to hurt you, either,” said Undyne. “You two remind me of someone I used to train with.”

Author’s Note: Originally I had this great scene planned that the Cat had to enlist Stan into helping him save Frisk from the Blind Eye...but it didn’t pan out the way I wanted it to. So instead have a feelings chapter.