#the driving range is an interesting choice to go with!

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about searching for things at a driving range.Ssomething something about practice and preparation for the actual game - for the real thing.

Something something about getting an eye in and figuring things out.

Eddie trying to find someone - a relationship but being unsuccessful in the endeavour. And now Buck and Gerrard at a range - one or both trying to find things out - in preparation for the bigger thing that’s about to go down within the 118 and Gerrards time there.

Something something about Eddie not really being true to himself by going to the practice range and now Buck possibly not being true to himself by going to the practice range.

[bedlam-barbie]

Yandere!Salesman x reader

Request: Yes

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ; 18+; NSFW;  psychopath!Salesman; obsessive!Salesman; possessiveness; yandere!Salesman

Author's note: I had so much fun with this request I hope you all enjoy it, he truly has become one of my favourites to explore.

He’s not the screaming, knife-wielding type of yandere.

He’s worse.

The Salesman doesn’t shout. He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t need to. His obsession simmers like a fine bourbon—aged, smooth, quietly dangerous. You won’t see it until it’s wrapped around your throat. He’s the type to whisper I love you in the same breath he ruins your life, just to see how long it takes you to crawl back to him.

He doesn’t fall in love, he becomes fascinated.

The moment you pique his interest, you are no longer a person. You’re a project. A puzzle to solve. A story he intends to write with his hands all over the pages. He’ll catalog your reactions: the way you smile when you lie, the way your hands tremble when you're nervous, how long it takes you to make eye contact when you’re flustered.

You won't notice him noticing you.

But he's already memorized your routines, your preferences, your weaknesses.

He films you.

Sometimes you know. Sometimes you don’t. He doesn’t post it. Doesn’t share it. Doesn’t even label the files. They’re just for him.

Stored deep in an encrypted drive, backed up twice. Your voice. Your face. The moment you say his name like it’s a sin.

“You're never more honest than when you’re falling apart.”

Choking is a language.

He doesn’t do it for theatrics. He does it for control. He doesn’t just grip your throat—he watches your pulse.

He times your orgasm with the pressure.

And right before you break? He whispers something like:

“No one will ever fuck you like this again. And that’s why you’ll never leave.”

Control is his love language.

If he loves you, he needs to know everything—where you go, who you talk to, what you think when you’re alone. He doesn't ask questions. He reads your browser history. Checks your phone while you sleep. Places a tracker under your car not because he doesn’t trust you—he doesn’t trust the world with you.

He’ll never tell you to stop seeing someone. He’ll just make sure that person never wants to see you again.

He’s seductive, but never openly needy.

You’ll never hear him beg. He doesn't do "desperate"—at least not in public. But he’ll press you into a wall with blood on his collar and ask in a calm voice, “Is he still in your bed, or have you remembered who you belong to yet?”

And he’ll mean it.

His gifts are subtle, but strategic.

A luxury pen when he sees you fidgeting with your broken one. Your favorite snack placed silently beside your laptop before a long day. A sleek new phone already logged into an account you didn’t register for.

And once?

A burner phone. No number. Just one text that said: Pick up. Now.The phone rang before you could blink.

He’s dangerous in bed, but never careless.

The yandere side of him shows most between the sheets. He likes marks. He likes bruises. He likes knowing you’ll feel him the next day. But he never lets go of control. You’ll beg, but he’ll decide when. He’ll whisper things he never says when the lights are on—like how many times he’s thought about tying you to his bed until you forget anyone else ever touched you.

And afterward?

He’ll wipe the sweat from your brow like a lover.

If he thinks he’s losing you, he escalates.

Quietly. Strategically. A new job offer that requires you to relocate. An anonymous threat to someone who’s too friendly. A leaked scandal. He doesn’t care how he wins. He just needs the ending to stay the same:

You. With him.

He’s possessive in subtle, terrifying ways.

He doesn’t brand you. He doesn’t put a ring on you. He makes you dependent. Emotionally. Logistically. Spiritually. Until your choices start to feel like his. Until you can't tell where your preferences end and his begin.

You think you’re free. But every step you take is inside his design.

He’s passionate but also methodical.

He doesn’t just fuck sometimes—he dissects you. Watches you squirm, catalogues every twitch of your mouth, every breath that catches. He doesn’t chase your pleasure, he controls it—slowly, deliberately.

He likes to edge you until you're trembling. Not because he wants you begging, well not always.

Because he wants you broken enough to confess things you won’t say when you're sober.

“Tell me you hate me. Say it again, with my cock inside you.”

He will never let you go.

Even if you leave. Even if you try to run. He’s not chasing you.

Because he knows something you don’t:

He’s already where you’re running to.

You don’t get to leave. Not really.

You can try.

You can scream at him, tell him it’s over, block his number, move cities, change names, grow out your hair and start over. You can cry in a stranger’s arms and pretend his fingerprints aren’t still burned into your skin.

But he never rushes.

He will let you think you’ve gotten away.

He’ll wait six months. Nine. Long enough for you to breathe again. Long enough for your hands to stop shaking when you hear his name.

And then? He’ll send flowers to your new job.No note. Just a reminder.

He still knows where you are.

He’ll cook for you, but you don’t get to help.

I imagine he is a great cook. Precise, flawless, methodical. You don’t lift a finger in his kitchen. You don’t get to slice, stir, or serve. You sit at the counter, glass in hand, while he moves around you with clean precision.

He never raises his voice. He doesn’t need to.

But if you insist on getting up to help?

He’ll lean in behind you, hand on your waist, mouth at your ear.

“Darling, sit. Or I’ll make you stay seated in a different way.”

He records everything.

Not for leverage.

For pleasure.

Security footage. Phone calls. The sound of you breathing next to him in your sleep. The first time you said his name under your breath. The last time you told him no.

He has files. Folders. Categorized by mood. Outfit. Emotion.

He doesn’t always watch them.

But he knows they’re there. He likes knowing he can rewind you whenever he wants.

He’s methodical when you betray him.

He doesn’t rage. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t even confront you at first.

He just watches. He lets you dig your own grave—lets you lie, lets you sneak around, lets you think he’s gone blind. And the entire time, he’s planning.The punishment won’t be obvious.

It’ll be total.

That promotion you wanted? Gone. Your closest friend? Transferred. Your name? Tied to a criminal profile you’ll never trace back to him.

And when you finally crawl back—ashamed, ruined, shaking?

He’ll take you in his arms and whisper, “See? Now you’ll never leave again.”

He’s not afraid to break you.

Not physically. No, that’s too easy.He breaks you emotionally. Quietly. Bit by bit. He isolates you with affection. Smothers you in intimacy until you forget how silence feels. He becomes your only source of comfort—and your sharpest fear.

You’ll hate him. But you’ll miss him more.

He treats your body like sacred territory—because he already claimed it.

He runs baths. He washes your hair. He soaps your back in silence. And while it looks tender, make no mistake—it’s also inspection. He notes every new bruise. Every mark that isn’t his. If there’s a scratch he doesn’t remember giving you?

Expect to be questioned.

Gently. Quietly. Endlessly.

If he proposes, it’s not a question.

There’s no ring box. No kneeling.Just a velvet case left on your pillow. No note. No words. Just a timeline that suddenly accelerates—apartment leases terminated, job offers rescinded, your entire life redirected into his.

Say no, and you’ll learn the cost.

Say yes, and you’ll belong to him.

Forever.

He likes to fuck you during arguments.

Especially when you’re angry. When you threaten to walk out. When you talk about another man. That’s when he gets truly dangerous—because he’s calm. Quiet. Calculating.

He’ll press you up against the nearest surface and fuck the fight out of you.

And when you finally collapse?

He’ll kiss your temple like he didn’t just use you to win.

Sleeping beside him is a ritual. Not a choice.

You don’t crash on the couch. You don’t sleep at home. You sleep in his bed, on his side, with his arm draped over your waist like a lock.

Even if you fight. Even if you scream. Even if you cry.Especially then.

Because he doesn’t believe in giving you space.He believes in keeping you close enough that he feels your breath.

“You’re never more honest than when you sleep. That’s why I keep you beside me. So I know when you start dreaming of leaving.”

He doesn’t want to kill you. He wants to change you.

Killing you would be easy. He’s fantasized about it, of course. What your body would look like crumpled in a silk slip. What your last words might be. If your blood would taste sweet.

But that would be such a waste.

He’d rather rebuild you. From the inside out. Make you dependent. Make you question everything.

Until you love him. Even if he has to tear you apart to do it.

You will love him.

Eventually. Whether it’s trauma bonding or surrender or simply because no one else knows how to read the map of your mind the way he does—you will love him.Not because he deserves it. But because he’s the last place you can go that feels like home.And if you don’t?

He’ll love you enough for both of you.

And then some.

[nom-nommmm1]

Hi!!! I really like your writing!

I just wanted to throw this idea out there of fem!y/n and dead going to a fair or something. They are having fun together and maybe it leads into smut? Eh just wanted to throw that out there. Thanks!

FAIR - PELLE/DEAD

Masterlist + taglist !!

Ty anon for the request, I had a little scare for a sec bc I thought I deleted your request 😭 but anyways thank you for your support. It means a lot to me that you enjoy what I write <3

Content warning !!: sweet!pelle x fem!reader, unprotected p in v, car sex, friends to lovers

the doorbell rang. I get up off the couch, grabbing my phone. I open the door coming face to face with Pelle. “Hey Pelle whats u-“ I ask before he cuts me off. “Hey y/n, me, euro and the guys wanted to know if you’d go to the fair with us” he says quickly, a pinky blush forming on his face. “Oh yea sure…can I get dressed?” I ask, pointing to my silky pajamas. Pelle looks at my pajama’s and then back at me, his blush deepening. “Oh! Yes- I’m so sorry!” He chuckles, closing the door.

“We’ll be waiting outside for you!” He yells before walking back to his car. I chuckle walking back to my room, picking out my outfit. I walk down the stairs, getting my purse next to the front door as euro honks the horn, irritated. “I’m coming!” I holler to him as I lock the door, making my way to their car. I step up to their car window trying to open the door but it’s locked. Euro rolls down the window. “Ah-ah, you’re riding with Pelle, we got too many people in this car” he says pointing to Pelles car.

Pelle slouches in his seat, his blush a bright pink. I sigh walking to his car. Why does this kid not like me? I reach the passenger seat window, opening the door and taking a seat. “So what music you got in here?” I ask looking at his CDs piled on his center console. “Oh..just some random stuff, you can pick what we listen to on our way” he says handing me the CDs. “Awesome” I smile, taking a cd, putting it into the player. The corners of Pelles lips curl as he puts the car in drive.

Euronymous takes the lead in driving to the fair, we follow him closely. “Good choice” Pelle says turning the radio up a tad. ”Thanks” I say looking at him for a moment without him noticing, taking in his big brown eyes. I smile leaning back in my seat. The AC blasts, I shiver. “You cold?” Pelle asks glancing every now and then. “Yea, could you turn the air down a touch?” I ask holding myself. “Totally” he says turning the air down. “Thank you” I say. Pelle nods, keeping his eyes on the road.

We pull up to the fair, trying to find a place to park. Both cars park next to each other. Pelle and I get out, going to the others. “So what should we do first?” Faust asks looking around the place. Everyone shrugs their shoulders but Euro sees a ride he wants to go on. “What about the tornado?” He asks looking to the group. No one objects. Oh fuck. Euro looks around on last time. “Alright let’s go” he says heading straight to the ride to try and be the first on.

We all get on the ride, I hold onto the handle bars tightly, scared of falling. I ride starts up, spinning slowly, but it speeds up gradually. After about five minutes we are up in the air spinning. “Holy fuck!” I scream still holding onto the bars while everyone else has their hand up in the air, laughing at my fear. The ride slows down, going to the ground. The workers unbuckle us and I make a run to the exit, still dizzy.

“Never again” I say panting as everyone else is still laughing. “So who’s gonna stay with y/n if they’re not going on rides?” Hellhamer asked. Pelle raised his hand. “I’d be fine to do it, I’m not too interested in riding rides anyways” he said grabbing my arm gently. “Cmon let’s go sit down” he said leading me to a bench. We both sat on opposite sides of the bench, looking around the fair in silence for a moment or two.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to hang out with them? You totally can if you want to, I can just Uber home” I said quickly but Pelle just chuckled. “You worry too much, I would never leave you here alone, I can ride rides next time. Don’t worry” he smiled, making eye contact with me. I blushed, nodding. Music from the game stands started to get louder and I couldn’t help but look. Pelle noticed me looking at one particular game stand and spoke up.

“You wanna check out some of their games?” He asked taking me out of my trance. “Sure!” I exclaim excitedly, taking Pelles hand and practically running to a stand. Pelle blushed, rubbing the soft skin of my knuckle before I let go. After a few tries of one game I won a my melody plush and a beach ball. Pelle leads me to another stand where he wins a huge teddy bear. I chuckle looking at the big bear in his arms.

He struggles to carry the bear as he takes his hand in mine. “You wanna take this stuff to the car?” He asks out of breath from keeping the bear up. “For sure” I laugh as we walk to the car. We make it to the car, popping the trunk and stuffing the plushies. We are breathless from tussling with the huge bear, Pelle opens the front doors, we both sit. “God I’ve never seen fairs give out this big of bears” he says still painting. “I know right” I say laughing.

We both take a minute to catch our breath before Pelle says something. “Did you have fun?” He asks looking to me. “I had I a lot of fun with you Pelle” I say, Pelles lips curl into a big smile as he hears that. “I’m glad” he says inching a little closer to me. I follow his lead, scooting in closer to him. Pelle looks into my eyes, his dilate as he puts his hands on my jaw. “You want to do this?” He asks, his thumb rubbing my lip.

I nod, leaning into Pelles lips, kissing him. Pelle kisses me back roughly, bitting my lips any chance he gets. He groans pulling away from me. I look at him confused until he climbs into the back seat. I smirk. He grabs my face again, kissing me roughly. With his other hand he scoops me up and puts me in his lap in the back seat. I groan into his lips, feeling the tent in his pants right on my leg.

Pelle moves his hands down to my ass, grabbing and squeezing wherever he could reach. I blush feeling his hands all over me. He smiles, pulling my shirt up. Slowly taking it off me before taking off his own shirt. He looks at my figure with admiration, taking in every part of me. After a few moments of silence he takes my lips again.

I smile feeling his tongue collide with mine. He takes me off of his lap, slipping out of his pants and boxers. Giving his cock a few pumps before looking at me, I smirk pulling my panties down a little. Pelle blushes, taking my hand, and pulling them all the way down for me. I chuckle as I hover over his lap. “You sure you’re ready?” He asks nervously. “I’m more than ready,” I say looking into Pelle's eyes, slowly taking in his cock, mouth agape full of moans and groans before fully plopping down on his length.

Pelle moans, slapping my ass roughly. I squirm, a small yelp falling from my lips. Pelle bites his lip as I squirm, feeling my movement sending shivers down his spine. His hands come up to my hips, forcing me to stay still. We sit like that for a minute before Pelle starts to move me up and down slowly. I moan feeling his length go in and out of me and a slow pace. Pelle looks up at me, staring at me with lust.

He speeds up his pace. As I’m about to moan Pelle kisses me, keeping me from being loud. “You have to be a little quieter” he says in my lips. I nod, kissing him back. He speeds up again, this time he goes painfully fast on me. The sound of the CD can be heard at max volume throughout the car. Pelle moans into my lips, his forehead starting to collect sweat.

He pulls me on and off of his cock at lightning speed, I practically scream, cumming on his cock. Shortly after Pelle cums. We stay like this, trying to catch our breath. Pelle kisses me, taking me off of his cock. He puts his jacket around me, holding me in his arms. “Do you want to go home or would you maybe…wanna go back to mine?” He asks, his cheeks turning red. We just had sex and this kid is still nervous around me. I laugh.

“I think we should go back to your place” I say. Pelle smirks before putting his boxers and pants back on. “Let’s go then” he says climbing back into the driver seat.

Jk guys I had time today 😽

Taglist:

╰┈➤@pilllover @mxqlss @roseroseluvrr @bkaulitzz @adellaonly @m3tal-chick

[samwontshare]

I’ve been saving BNW for my recovery so let’s live react.

-Ooo okay setting up the bad blood between Sam and Ross at the start, makes sense. Cap vs President of the US.

-Everybody celebrating Sam as Cap, free drink, everyone being respectful - that’s more like it!!!

-“You must be new here.” Hahaha I love Sam. Wait for the Seal team? Absolutely not. Look at his new gear!!!

-Go for the package? No, Sam goes for the hostages. He’s a people first guy.

-These fight scenes are fun. Sam really uses movement a lot to build force. It must drive the military nuts that Sam gets vibranium gear from Wakanda. Haha beating some dudes with cinder blocks - you can tell he’s still hanging with Bucky.

-He speaks Spanish. :) Arabic and Spanish so far?

-haha Joaquin. “Pleaaaaaase, can I please go get the bad guys?” And Sam’s like you can have a little fight, as a treat.

-Sam’s little smile when he’s about to fight one on one.

-Joaquin is hilarious. Big golden retriever energy.

-Shield flip!!!!

-“he has a fractured arm so be gentle” SAM haha

-Haha Sam setting up Joaquin with Isaiah. And Isaiah is looking good!

-Sam in superhero landing pose! Haha

-I already love Sam and Isaiah’s dynamic. Hah Joaquin better watch it 🤣🤣🤣

-I think Sam also needs a skeptic like Isaiah in his corner. I like this generational dynamic. Isaiah is oldest and wisest and skeptical. Sam is an optimist but maintains his pragmatism; he’s seasoned but looking for a better world. And Joaquin is young, eager, and smart. And their youth is also invigorating for Isaiah.

-Sam is rightly suspicious of Ross! He knows what that means, Avengers under one nation’s authority.

-And Japanese!

-It took 472627125 years but we have acknowledged the celestial in the ocean!

-Adamantium has entered the chat

-Isaiah :(

-Sam pulling the clip out of the gun was a cool as hell move.

-Omg Crying. “Please watch my suit.” Ouch OUCH. Sam looks devastated. He knows what this means to Isaiah.

-Honestly they stopped any fatalities at close range? That’s impressive.

-“Youre not Steve Rogers.” Kudos to Sam for not punching them both in the face. HE DID NOT CALL SAM WILSON SON 😡😡😡😡

-Death penalty case. JFC. GET THEM SAM

-Isaiah is breaking my heart. I can’t.

-Sam’s so smart. He’s like oh this is obviously brainwashing. Been there, done that, spent several years tracking a brainwashed assassin.

-Ross was obviously hit. Really should not have given away Red Hulk in the previews - super bizarre advertising choice because the foreshadowing is ruined. Why make it a mystery when the audience already knows?

-Oh shit! Sam! This fight scene is reminding me of the highway CATWS scene! :) Sam fighting with knives in him daaaamn. He never met Sam bring a knife to a gun fight Wilson!!!!

-Joaquin and his cafecito. Cubano time!

-I like that Sam is just like I do not have time to deal with a Black Widow today.

-Sam “I do what I want” Wilson.

-“Duh I know that’s what makes it so noble.” What a cute reframe of Sam and Steve’s “You don’t have to come with me.”

-I love that Joaquin is thinking of snacks. A man after my own heart.

-Past enemies are enemying

-Front trunk on the truck, fun

-redwing the best spy bot

-creepy place

-Ooo so we’re manipulating governments now. This is probably bad.

-I like that Sam is not predictable! Even to the super villain. Kind of an interesting thing to do with Sterns after so many years. He has hands in everything because he can brainwash people. Cool make up for Sterns.

-Good team work!

-World war! Revenge!

-Denis stop flirting with Sam.

-Okay I’m kind of into Sam and Sidewinder as flirty enemies. Do I sort of want them to be mortal enemies who sometimes fuck? Maybe but Sam would never haha

-Ross isn’t that guy anymore! UM kind of seems like he is.

-Sam and Joaquin flying in to the island was a cool shot!

-Really scary villain when anyone can be an enemy

-Oooo desperate Ross. Interesting.

-Sam is like do I really have to deal with this white man’s daughter drama?

-Oh shit! Fired on Japan!

-OMG the aerial battle is so cool! Top Gun but SAM is the plane. I love they finally gave my guy a helmet to breathe.

-SURFING

-Joaquin! Being over eager, wanting to prove himself and he goes down. Sam must be thinking of Riley.

-The scene of Sam pulling up the plane against Ross losing control was very good - great pacing and suspense there.

-Captain Joaquin now!

-Not Bucky wasting no time to tell Sam he looks good.

-Bucky knowing that Sam was asked to restart the Avengers does make Thunderbolts ECS more annoying.

-It’s interesting that Sam says Sterns as if Bucky knows what he means. Right now that isn’t public knowledge. It sounds like Sam and Bucky have been chatting.

-Can we go back to supportive Bucky, a good friend to Sam? The Bucky that didn’t insert himself into Sam’s business bc he trusts that Sam has it handled. That showed up because he needed a friend and some love?

-Isaiah. 😭😭😭😭

-Denis no!

-Leila is hot. I feel like she should have had a bigger role.

-Awkward phone call w your estranged dad.

-Sam is like uuuuugh this guy again.

-that seems bad

-Interesting that vibranium seems to work somewhat against Red Hulk!

-Taking him to a sentimental place. This isn’t random, Sam knows Bruce and that he can be talked down.

-So much of solving this plot relies on Sam’s role as an Avenger. Knowing about brainwashing, about dealing with Hulks. He’s worked his way into this position from years of experience that cumulatively make him the man for the job.

-Haha Bucky is full of shit loool

-The CGI gets a little shaky here but was otherwise good elsewhere.

-Isaiah! His suit! 😭😭😭😭

-Sam at the Raft! As a guest not a prisoner. Haha tit for tat with Ross!

-Nice full circle for them both. Sam is such a good person. He brought Betty!

-Isaiah visited Joaquin. Awww he’s going to a game! I love Isaiah. Protec

-Joaquin! Sam! I like that Sam and Joaquin talk about the pressure they face as men of color. Joaquin wanted to Sam. He joined the Air Force bc of Sam. 🥹 Awww Joaquin. I love their relationship. What a nice moment for Sam - this time his partner made it.

-The multiverse is coming - I wonder how Sam is busy preparing.

-Solid Marvel movie. Would’ve hit different if they had kept a lid on Red Hulk and the end was a little rushed, but I like that Sam and Ross came full circle, that we built relationships (including enemies!) for Sam, and we saw that Sam is not willing to be a government shill. The relationships between Sam, Isaiah, and Joaquin really carried the movie. I would have liked to have seen Sarah! Fun fight scenes - would’ve been a good mystery had the advertising been different. Definitely as good as First Avenger and better than Civil War.

[orqheuss]

Snake Charmer

(Ominis Gaunt x F!Gorgon!Reader) Fluff? World building? Set up? Who knows tbh. It's a story.

Summary:

Ominis could hear her pulse quicken as she stilled. Everything else in the cramped space fell away, leaving just the two slytherin’s, each one with their own morose history that has been broadcasted for all the world to hear. Two peas in a pod— two sides to the same coin— two scales on the same snake. *** Why was everyone so interested in the new girl? Ominis Gaunt was about to find out.

Word count: 3.8k

AN: because I wanted to write a story about Ominis and a Gorgon falling in love

Ominis was sure he was going mad. In fact, he was positive— some point between the end of his fourth year and the beginning of his fifth, he had gone absolutely batty. That was the only logical conclusion to the fact that he was hearing voices at all hours of the day. 

It started the day the new fifth year won in a duel against his best friend, Sebastian. The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was moving at the same pace it always did: introduction to the new spell, practice on a small object, practice on a larger, vaguely person shaped object, and then finally a duel between each pair of students to prove their mastery. This day, though, took a different turn than what the young blond was expecting. Ever since starting at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow was Ominis’ dueling partner; there was never any question about it. It became such a habit that no one dared approach the pair once Professor Hecat announced the beginnings of the school sanctioned battles— you would never see one Slytherin without the other. So, when Hecat decided to pair the new fifth year with his best friend, well, it could be seen quite plainly that Ominis was not happy about the matter. 

As the duelists took their positions across from each other, the blond haired boy leaned against the nearest wall, a distinct look of annoyance turning down the corners of his lips and narrowing his eyebrows into a straight line. Most people would consider the look on his face a pout— not that anyone would ever dare at mentioning this to the boy. Ominis Gaunt did not pout, and he certainly did not scoff under his breath at the sound of his friend joking around with the new girl. What a preposterous idea. He wasn’t jealous, don’t be absurd. 

Though, it was nice hearing Sebastian get knocked down a peg by someone who had never held a wand in her life up until that point. 

Once the class was over, all Ominis wanted to do was slump himself into the Undercroft and take a well deserved nap. His head was pounding, and the near constant whispers of his classmates about the new girl were driving him up the wall. He couldn’t help but make snarky remarks in his head, quietly laughing to himself at the ridiculous questions his classmates were mumbling.

“Why do you think she wears that head scarf? I wonder what’s under there.” 

Hair, probably. 

“Did you hear her accent? Where do you think she’s from? Certainly not around here!”

Ten points to Ravenclaw for stating the obvious.

“Did you see how she was looking at Sallow? She just got here and already thinks she can take the most attractive boy in our year. The nerve!” 

Sebastian has the emotional range of a teaspoon, but best of luck!

“How could you even tell where she was looking? I couldn’t see a thing through those glasses of hers! Why is she wearing shaders inside?” 

Bold style choice, but alright. Not that he could really judge, of course. 

“Do you think she’s blind like Gaunt? Great, another person I have to make sure I don’t trip over.” 

That statement got his attention. Could she be blind like him? He didn’t hear any echolocation charm on her wand, nor did he sense a seeing eye animal or a cane around her. A very small part of him warmed slightly at the idea that he wasn’t alone in his struggles anymore. He craned his head more to the side, trying to catch more of the gossip as everyone began to file out of the classroom.

“No, she can’t be blind. It looks like she can get around just fine on her own— no charm blinking on her wand or anything. Still quite weird, though.” 

Ominis’ shoulders sank minutely at the news, the warmth in his chest freezing over once again. He sighed to himself before pushing away from the wall, deciding to just let his body carry him to the Undercroft on autopilot while he stewed in his thoughts. Sebastian was off talking to the new girl, so he would likely not be joining him until well after his next round of Crossed Wands later that day. Normally he would join the boy, cheering him on from the sidelines with the rest of his fawning fangirl club, and he was about to turn in the direction of the clock tower when the brunette’s voice broke through the haze. 

“Suppose I could interest you in some unsanctioned fun?” 

Well, if his new best friend was going to be there, then he wouldn’t miss Ominis’ presence all that much.

Just as the blond had resigned himself to an afternoon of solitude, another voice came through the crowded musings of his classmates. 

“Gods, I’m starving.” 

A completely mundane statement, one that had likely been uttered by half of the class as they left, but something about the voice drew him in. It was low in tone, like they were trying to hide their voice instead of projecting it to their friends, and had a slight hiss to it just under the words like the person was speaking through a mouthful of fangs. Ominis paused in his steps just outside the doorway, his ear turned towards the classroom as he tried to find the voice again. All he found was silence and the tiny ticks of professor Hecat’s dark magic detectors. 

Shaking his head, he leaned away from the door and made his way down the stairs, his mind puzzling through what just happened. He must have been imagining it, he thought to himself. The voice hardly sounded human, let alone familiar. Must have just been a trick of his mind, he had slept terribly the night before so it was logical he was just tired. Rounding the corner towards his secret alcove, Ominis stepped through the clockwork door to the Undercroft and began to climb down the winding staircase, hopeful that a bit more sleep would do him good. 

Fortunately, he had a lovely nap on the chaise lounge he conjured. Rather unfortunately though, the voice persisted. Morning, noon, and night he heard that incessant hissing tone in his ears, each day getting louder and more bold with what it was saying. First it was small things, things that most people would think to themselves throughout a normal day. 

“Where’s the bathroom in this place?” “My head itches.” “What I would give to take a nap right about now.” 

Normal things. But then, the statements started to get a bit…odd. 

“There’s something under my scale!” “He was rude, I want to bite him.” “I can hear a mouse somewhere. Can I eat it? Please?”

While Ominis was tired of hearing the random, grating voice slither through his ears at a constant rate, he was happy to report that he no longer thought he was going mad. The voice belonged to a snake— that much he was sure of. But, where was the snake? Did it know he could hear it? How was it somehow always in his vicinity? 

That was the question that was currently keeping him up at night. 

Everything culminated one faithful day when he next had Defense Against the Dark Arts. Today was lecture, and much like the rest of his classmates, he bemoaned having to sit and listen to professor Hecat go on and on about some unknown entity or creature that he could never encounter for the rest of his days. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a good teacher, far from it! But, much like any professor in the castle, she was not immune to the dreaded monotonous lecture voice. 

Upon entering the classroom, the first thing Ominis heard was Hecat’s voice speaking in hushed tones to someone. He would never admit it outloud, but the boy was dreadfully nosy. Honing his ears in the direction of the whispering, he caught on to her tone first— caring, soft, gentle, words that normally wouldn’t be found within one hundred feet of the professor— then the tail end of her words. 

“—if you are uncomfortable with today’s lesson, please know that you can leave at any time.” 

An equally soft voice replied in turn, a hint of uncomfort lacing their words. “Thank you, professor. I appreciate the sentiment, but I will be fine. It is not the first time I have been a part of such a lecture.” 

Ominis stilled in his seat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention when he recognized the voice. It was the new girl again. Merlin, it seemed she had everyone wrapped around her little finger, even the formidable Dinah Hecat! 

It wasn’t that he had a problem with the new fifth year, in fact she had been quite nice to him when they met in the common room, it was just that all the rumors surrounding her made her sound a bit big for her britches. First she beat Sebastian in a duel, something no one has done since he started going to Crossed Wands and honing his talent, then she invites him to Hogsmeade with her and suddenly a troll is hellbent on clobbering up the street? Not to mention all the other things Ominis had heard about: taking out Ashwinder camps in her spare time? Flying all over the sodding Scottish Highlands and getting into all kinds of trouble against the Ranrok Loyalists? Sneaking into the restricted section with Sebastian and earning him another bloody detention, because what, she batted her eyelashes at him and he folded like a cheap suit? Who was this girl, and why did trouble follow at her heels like a pack of hellhounds? No, Ominis didn’t have a problem with her, he was suspicious of her, and the fact that the voice started soon after she got here certainly didn’t help. 

The blond sat back in his seat, arms crossed across his chest and a befuddled look clouding his expression as the professor took her spot at the front of the room, tapping her wand on the rickety old chalkboard and writing out the subject of the lecture for today. 

“Today, class, we will be discussing Gorgons, another creature traditionally deemed mythological but in fact walks among us magic folk unseen. Though, they very rarely make the journey across the sea to our backyard.” 

Ominis’ eyebrows narrowed more in confusion as he thought about Hecat’s words to the new girl. Why would she be uncomfortable with this lesson? What secret was she hiding that was related to Gorgons of all things? He tuned back into the lesson, hoping to answer some of his questions. 

Professor Hecat paced around the room as she talked, taking strides up and down the lengths of desks and weaving through her collections of artifacts from her time as an Unspeakable. 

“Gorgons, or ‘gorgos,’ meaning ‘fierce, terrible and grim’ in Greek, are inherently female creatures with snakes for hair and the ability to turn anyone who meets their gaze into stone. Many of you are likely familiar with the myth of Medusa, the only mortal Gorgon that was callously slayed by the Greecian hero, Perseus. But, there are two other Gorgons known in history: Stheno, the mighty or strong, and Euryale, the Far Springer.” 

The room was bathed in silence as Hecat paused in her speech, giving the class time to take notes on the creatures. Ominis sat still, his mind awash with possibilities for why the new girl would need to be excused from this lesson. Her accent was Greek, that was for sure. Could she have a history with Gorgons? That wouldn’t make sense, though. Many students have had run-ins with the creatures discussed in DADA, but they were never offered to skip that lesson. So, why was the new girl so special? 

A sharp, insistent sound shook the blond from his thought spiral, causing him to wince at the volume suddenly ricochetting in his ears. A terrible hiss filled the room, slithering throughout the encompassing space and echoing off the tall, vaulted cathedral ceiling. It was haunting, eerie, constant, like the creak of the floor in an abandoned house or a busted pipe in the middle of the night when you’re the only one home. A shiver ran up Ominis’ spine at the sound, trying desperately to block it out while also listening to those around him to see if they heard it too. He heard no whisperings, but with a quick flick of his wand, sparking the wood to life, he could see the silhouette of his classmates looking around like they were trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Ominis relaxed slightly, relieved that he wasn���t the only one hearing the incessant hissing. 

His relaxed posture only lasted for a moment as a voice suddenly cut through all the noise, low and dangerous like a rattlesnake's tail in the tall grass. It was similar to the snake he had been hearing, but different somehow— richer, more human sounding. Ominis’ heart stilled in his chest when he recognized the cadence, knowing it intimately from all the times he spoke it while living at home. Parseltongue. 

“Be quiet. Everything is fine, no one is going to hurt us.” 

At once, the hissing stopped, shrouding the room in a blanket of silence once again. Dread began to curl its way around Ominis’ chest at the understanding of what that meant— what that could mean for the future of Hogwarts in general. 

Someone in the room was a parselmouth like him, and he would bet all of his galleons on it being the new girl. 

But, what did she mean by “no one is going to hurt us?” Who was “us?”

The professor continued her lecture, drowning the never ending list of questions permeating in his mind that seemed to grow longer by the second. 

“Gorgons are the children of Phorcys, a primordial sea god, and Ceto, a sea goddess, who happen to be brother and sister.” 

A snicker came from the back of the classroom, followed by the voice of none other than Andrew Larson, the class’ resident moonmind. “Purebloods know all about that!” 

Hecat leveled him with a glare, not an ounce of amusement present in her tone as she spoke. “Must you make that joke whenever we talk about Greek history? I dare say it wasn’t funny the first handful of times you’ve said it, Mister Larson.” 

Ominis could almost see the embarrassment on Larson’s face when he stuttered his reply. “Um, n-no, professor. I j-just meant—”

“We all know what you meant.” She silenced him quickly, her smirk present in her voice. “Now, back to what I was saying. Phorcys and Ceto had a large family together, including the Graeae, the trio of elderly sisters that share an eye, Echidna, a being of half-human, half-snake, Ladon, a fearsome dragon who was tasked with guarding the golden apples of the Hesperides, and Scylla, a woman with dog-headed loins. Because of Ceto’s reputation for giving birth to terrors, each larger and more colorful than the last, she became known as the “mother of sea-monsters.” Ominis could feel Hecat’s eyes linger on him for a moment, her speech stilling slightly as she took in his deeply puzzled expression. “Of course, among those children were also the Gorgons.” 

The aging professor continued, her steps ebbing and flowing around the classroom like a steady stream. “According to myth, Medusa did not begin life as a Gorgon. She was Ceto’s only mortal born child— human as any other babe. Some even say she may have been of magical nature, like all of you in this very room.” 

The blond slytherin heard Hecat’s steps falter for a moment, the soft swish of her hand running along a desk off to his right. He craned his ears in the direction, his wand picking up the movement as he tried to discern the student that the former Unspeakable was paying special attention to. The silhouette of a girl filled his mindseye, her form slumping down slightly in her desk as she tugged lightly on the scarf wrapped around her head. Ominis’ frown stretched deeper across his face at the realization that the professor was checking on the new girl, again. What was so special about her? Why was everyone so enraptured by her presence? She didn’t seem all that remarkable when in the school building at least. She was just mysterious. He was mysterious at first, but the fascination with him soon dwindled as his peers realized he was the same as everyone else. 

So, the slytherin pondered, why was she still the talk of the halls? 

Why was Hecat teaching this lesson?

Why was it important for a group of pubescent teenagers to know about something that existed across the ocean from them?

Ominis had more questions than answers, and each one confounded him more and more by the second.

“Medusa was a devout follower of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and war. One night, while praying to her goddess, she captured the attention of Athena’s brother, Poseidon. He appeared to her, intent on taking what he believed should be ‘his.’” Hecat paused, her stony gaze sweeping across the classroom as if challenging anyone to so much as breathe too loud. “He took her there, in the temple, leaving her on the floor as she sobbed and prayed to her goddess for forgiveness.” 

Ominis could cut the tension coating the air of the room like a thick, viscous fog with a knife. No one dared make a sound, enraptured by the words of their wise mentor.

“Some myths say that Athena took pity on the girl and transformed her into something that no man could ever gaze on again. Some say she punished her for leading a man into her sacred temple and letting him defile it. No one knows the true story except those who were there, and the old gods have long since left our realm for their own paradise on Olympus.” 

The apprehension screaming in every magical mind surrounding the dearly loved, and feared, elder was palpable in the tiny class space. 

“Now, some of you may be wondering why I teach this lesson.” As if reading his mind, Ominis felt Hecat level him with a stare that burned hotter than even the most blistering fire poker. “The answer, of course, is that no one knows what happened to the child of Medusa and Poseidon.”

The young Gaunt felt all the air get sucked from his lungs as if a dementor escaped from Azkaban just to find him specifically. A child of a god and a witch? It was unheard of— it was disastrous. Their magic would be unstoppable; nothing in their world would ever match the power of a child brimming with that much otherworldly energy. Whether they used their powers for good or evil, or even some mix of the two, they would be legendary all the same. At that moment, a thought came to Ominis. Would they also be part Gorgon? If Medusa was transformed while with child, who's to say that the babe would not share the same affliction. 

As suddenly as a strike of lightning, or a downpour in April, Ominis Gaunt answered the question that had been on his mind since the start of term.

  The new girl was a Gorgon. 

How had he not realized before? The snakes that were always around when she was— how her head and eyes were always covered— how no one knew where she hailed from and had no hint other than the fact that her accent was vaguely Greecian? It was right in front of his blind eyes from the beginning; he was just too much of a jealous fool to see it. 

Just then the bell chimed across the campus, signaling the impending class change. Professor Hecat’s voice broke through the bustle of his peers standing and gathering their things in preparation for their trek to their next lesson. 

“We will continue our discussion on mythos and magic next week. Please remember to study for the upcoming OWLs! They are written and practical, so be sure to practice the physical spells as well as memorize the theory!” 

Ominis scrambled to gather his things, determined to catch the new girl before she disappeared into the crowd. Dodging around a loitering Sebastian— the brunette’s hand raised as if gearing to make some idiotic, yet somehow still brilliant, point— he all but sprinted into the congested hallway. His wand waved in front of him as he scanned each person he passed, his ears tuned to any noise that sounded vaguely serpentine in the hopes that her reptilian tresses would sound out as they always did this close to lunch time. Alas, they were as silent as a dead rodent in a viper pit. 

Just then, the young boy caught sight of the girl, her silhouette moving ferociously  among the masses as if she would rather be anywhere but there. Underneath all his confusion, morbid curiosity, and pulsating anger at how she has been endangering, and possibly enchanting, his best friend, Ominis felt a pang of pity. He didn’t blame her one bit for wanting to leave as quickly as possible— not at all. He knew all too well how it felt to have all eyes burning through his skin at every turn, even if no one else seemed to figure out her secret other than him. He couldn’t let her escape, though; he needed answers, he needed closure. Halting in his tracks, he racked his mind for what he could do to get her attention. She wouldn’t hear him call her name in the ruckus around them, nor could he keep up with her brusk pace. There was really only one option to choose, and as much as he hated to do it, snakes had an incredible sense of hearing, or rather, in their case, an excellent sense for vibrations. 

His voice flowed from his lips in a strong hiss, the air seeming to break just for the words to slither their way to their target like a bush adder in a pile of leaves. “I know what you are.” 

Ominis could hear her pulse quicken as she stilled. Everything else in the cramped space fell away, leaving just the two slytherin’s, each one with their own morose history that has been broadcasted for all the world to hear. Two peas in a pod— two sides to the same coin— two scales on the same snake. 

Her “pets” were startlingly silent as her hung head raised from its slumped position against her chest, her sigh heaving her shoulders into proper posture— a constrictor poised to strangle. 

The boy felt her words before he heard them— the air stilling around him like a world born anew. 

“I suppose it’s my turn to explain things, then.”

AN:

Shes baaaaaacccckkkkkkk :)

***

like what you read? here's more!

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Jee Dates

Enjoy some tooth rotting fluff...I love Uncle Buck and Uncle Tommy. 🥰 I have been writing so much but I guess it's because I definitely won't have the time once school starts back up!

_______________________________________

"Tommy, wake up," Buck said softly, gently shaking his boyfriend's shoulder. "It's Jee date day."

Tommy stirred, a smile spreading across his face even before he opened his eyes. "Already? What time is it?"

"Early," Buck chuckled, "but you know how excited she gets. We promised to pick her up at 9."

As Tommy got out of bed, stretching, Buck couldn't help but reflect on how they'd gotten to this point. He wasn't quite sure how it happened. He had always been close to his niece, but once he and Tommy started dating, she was drawn to Tommy like a magnet. And Tommy definitely didn't mind his adoring fan.

At first, it was casual outings - they would take her to the park or out for ice cream, or she'd come to their house for pancakes. But somehow, those casual meetups evolved into what they now called "Jee dates."

Now they had a standing date once a month where they would spend the whole day with Jee, doing activities of her choice. It had become something all three of them looked forward to, a special tradition that strengthened their bond as a family.

"So, remind me what the plan is for today?" Tommy asked as he pulled on a t-shirt.

Buck's grin widened. "To your delight, and Maddie's dismay, Jee has chosen the Monster Truck rally."

Tommy's face lit up with excitement. "Yes! I knew that kid had good taste."

"Well, she certainly takes after her Uncle Tommy in some ways," Buck laughed. "Maddie's convinced you're corrupting her daughter."

"Hey, expanding her interests is not corruption," Tommy defended playfully. "Besides, Jee loved Disney on Ice last month. She's a well-rounded kid."

Buck nodded, remembering how Jee's eyes had lit up watching her favorite characters glide across the ice. "That's true. From Disney princesses to monster trucks – our girl's got range."

"Exactly," Tommy agreed. "And who knows, maybe she'll grow up to be a professional ice skater who drives monster trucks in her spare time."

Buck couldn't help but laugh at the image. "Now that would be something to see. Maddie would probably blame us for that career choice too."

As they continued to get ready, both men felt a surge of anticipation for the day ahead. These "Jee dates" had become more than just a fun outing - they were a chance for Buck and Tommy to share their love, to be role models, and to create lasting memories with the little girl who had stolen both their hearts.

"Ready to go pick up our favorite girl?" Buck asked, keys in hand.

Tommy nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Always. Let's make this a Jee date to remember."

With that, they headed out, ready for a day full of monster trucks, cotton candy, and the unbridled joy of a child they both adored.

As they got into the car, Tommy grinned and said, "Ready for another adventure with Jee-bug, fellow Guncle?"

Buck rolled his eyes fondly. "You know, technically that's not quite right. I'm not gay, I'm bi."

Tommy's face took on an exaggerated look of shock, his voice deadpan and dripping with sarcasm. "Wait, you're bi? How come you never told me?"

Buck couldn't help but laugh, playfully shoving Tommy's shoulder. "Oh, shut up. You know what I mean."

Tommy's facade cracked as he chuckled. "I know, I know. But 'Quncles' doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well, does it?"

"True," Buck agreed, still grinning. "Though Maddie still thinks the qualifier isn't necessary."

Tommy nodded, his expression softening. "Right, because we're both just Jee's loving uncles, regardless of our sexuality."

"Exactly," Buck said. "But I have to admit, I do like our little 'Guncles' thing, even if it's not technically accurate for me."

As they pulled up to Maddie and Chimney's house, they could see Jee's excited face peering out the window, clearly having been watching for their arrival.

"Guncles!" she squealed as she ran out the door, Maddie following close behind with a backpack full of Jee's things.

Maddie shook her head with a fond smile. "I still say you're just uncles, but I guess I'm outvoted on this one."

Tommy grinned. "What can we say? The kid has spoken."

Buck just laughed as he got out of the car to scoop up their excited niece. "Ready for some monster trucks, Jee-bug?"

As they drove towards the Monster Truck rally, Jee chatted away happily in the backseat. Suddenly, she piped up with a series of questions that caught both men off guard.

"Hey Uncle Buck, how come you date boys? Are you guys ever gonna get married and be husbands? Can I be the flower girl if you do? And please don't get married at the hospital like Mommy and Daddy did, okay? And how come Mara and Denny have 2 Mommies? Are you ever gonna have a kid? Will your baby have 2 Daddies? If they do, will they be sad they don't have a Mommy? Will they call both of you Daddy?"

"Well, Jee-bug, that's a lot of questions," Buck started, his voice gentle. "I'll try to answer them all. I date boys, or in this case, your Uncle Tommy, because that's who I fell in love with. Some people love boys, some love girls, and some, like me, can love both."

Tommy nodded, adding, "And yes, we do plan to get married and be husbands someday. When we do, we'd love for you to be our flower girl."

"And we promise not to get married in a hospital," Buck chimed in with a grin. "We'll pick somewhere much more fun."

"As for Mara and Denny having two mommies," Tommy continued, "families come in all different shapes and sizes. Some have a mom and a dad, some have two moms or two dads, and some have just one parent."

Buck picked up the thread, "Tommy and I would love to have a family someday. And yes, if we do, your cousin will have two dads."

"But they won't be sad about not having a mommy," Tommy added. "Because they'll have two parents who love them very much, just like your mom and dad love you."

"And if we do have kids," Buck concluded, "they might call us both Daddy, or we might use different names to avoid confusion. We'll figure that out when the time comes."

Jee seemed to consider this for a moment. "Okay," she said finally. "Can we get cotton candy at the monster trucks?"

Buck and Tommy both chuckled at the abrupt change of subject, typical of a child Jee's age.

"Sure thing, Jee-bug," Tommy said, catching Buck's eye with a warm smile. They both felt a surge of love - for each other, for Jee, and for the family they would have someday.

[lorisidirgiichi2002]

Why Kris Dreemurr is the most interesting protagonist to me.

Hello everyone, friends and foes, Lightners and Darkners. Please sit around this tumblr post as I dissect and talk about everyone's favourite Nonbinary gremlin child: Kris Dreemurr. When it comes to video games, you always step into the shoes of the protagonists, especially in RPG heavy games. Video games always offer a choice to the player to say certain things or perform certain actions ranging from harmless to really consequential and potentially ruin your playthrough. The characters reacting to the changes of the world positively or negatively from your actions, but most of the time the character you play is mostly a blank slate and you can literally fuck around with the game however you please to get the most perfect or worse outcome. UNDERTALE explored the whole choice thing of Kill or Be Killed, being the absolute saint that you are getting the best ending, fighting a photoshop amalgamation with different outcomes on how many you killed or spared or literally murdering everyone and a overpowered 1 ATK 1 DEF skeleton and blaming it on a child when it's actually your own fault and destroys the entire game unless you sell your SOUL to restore it and repeat all 3 steps again and again until you get bored of it. That is when DELTARUNE surprised everyone and came out of nowhere and introduced us to the beautiful Home Town to the colourful Dark Worlds and more specifically: Kris Dreemurr.

Kris Dreemurr unlike most RPG protagonists, is not a blank slate unlike your discarded vessel at the beginning. They have their own backstory, their feelings, motives and personality. They love their Pies, they play the piano, they're a prankster, they're a character that breaks the rules of what a protagonist should be. Kris holds the Determination SOUL, YOU the player and have been shown time and time again that they can literally rip you out at any time and act on their own, be it stealing some late night pie and driving theorists insane and predicting wildly outdated and incorrect predictions of Kris literally doing a No Mercy Route 2, slashing Toriel's tires and creating a Dark Fountain gas leak in their home or trying to prevent you from getting access to the shelter for whatever mysterious purpose they have with the mysterious figure that people assumes is The Roaring Knight with a sort of promise they made to them. They really enjoy Susie and the adventures they spent together and other times, they don't want us to figure out what is going on. [Even coughing and kneeling to the Knight if you managed to win a unbeatable fight flawlessly.] Kris is a very conflicting person, they're a sort of "Hero" but they show some very "unheroic" behaviour in places when we're not in control. And that's not even talking about the Weird Route. And for the sake of this post. Heavy mentions of: Abuse, Trauma and potential Suicide inbound for this next section. Weird Route is where the Player vs Kris dynamic is at full front, going over the player's pushing boundaries and crossing lines they shouldn't have by abusing and traumatising Noelle in the most nightmare fuelled path all because the player got a bit too curious and tried to find out if there's more than ONE ending and if our choices REALLY don't matter as Toby implies. Willing to destroy and break down Noelle and Kris's friendship to the point of no return, forcing her to freeze Berdly, commanding her to do everything to "make her stronger." In the normal route, Kris kinda needs you for some reason, there may be a few choices in the game that I might headcanon Kris would agree with you with or just sticking to the script and tries to stop you in your tracks for getting a bit too close into discovering the Shelter and other ongoing mysteries and fight you over it, even looking away from the game: MANTLE in Chapter 3 for the player diving too deep into the games after each board, killing Susie and Ralsei's characters or even trying to step away from the ingame Shelter because they have some sort of traumatic experience or dark secret. [but you persist because you want that Shadow Mantle] But in the Weird Route, they're absolutely scared and REALLY starts to hate you for doing the things you do with Noelle and they're almost powerless to stop it much more than Spamton NEO. If you commit to this path, Kris would try their hardest to undo the damage that YOU cause and just tell Noelle that it's all a stupid prank, but the moment you leave that box, crawl out of the vents and use the Game Logic to sneak your way into Kris and Noelle's personal conversation, you basically brought back the damage and made Noelle far worse to the point Kris is just uncomfortable about Noelle and justifiably abusing you in the trash can for literally doing EVERYTHING in your power to stay committed to this route that they lose 10 HP in the process. They'll react negatively if you think about Noelle during Susie's important character arc, kick the candles in anger when exploring the Church after sealing the first sanctuary, bite their hand so tightly that Susie is telling them to calm the hell down for saying "I never want to play piano again", they do not want to think for a second about Noelle or deal with your bullshit and just wants to get through this adventure as fast as humanly possible.

After returning home after literally defeating a TITAN and seeing a Drunk Toriel getting befriended by Sans and unable to cope with the annoying sounds, Kris gets one more insult to injury from Carol on the phone, as opposed to the mysterious figure in the normal route and says that Noelle is REALLY looking forward to meeting them in the Festival.

Chapter 5's weird route is definitely going to be the most interesting and most uncomfortable to witness, since the Spamton Sweepstakes hints on the Chapter 5 Site details that 2, 4 and 5 have important Weird Route relevance. Since there's no sign of Weird Route Chapter 6 and 7 on there, I think most of us can agree on the theory that Chapter 5 is where the game would end rather abruptly and anti-climatic before we even get a taste of what 6 and 7 beholds. I think either during the festival or during Asgore's dark world and Noelle potentially joining the party despite Kris's discomfort and disgust with our actions, Kris would probably couldn't take it anymore with the player's abuse and treatment of their friends and would do something drastic that could harm themselves or just end it all there, the player has reached a point of no return, it's gone too far and could theoretically fulfil the prophecy that we were denied to see thanks to Susie smashing it. Though theoretically, we might have put a piece of our SOUL into Noelle represented as a little dot that will slowly grow in that chapter and Noelle will be the one to take control and probably solo the Knight with Snowgrave. [whether it's Dess to make it even more bittersweet or giving Carol the twisted justice she deserves] It's technically another ending, but with the way we've gone about it, it's honestly much more worse than the actual ending that we're hoping we can change fate.

In any case of what happens in the Weird Route or the future since we got a few months before 2026 drops, I've definitely enjoyed trying to figure out what Kris is going to do next in Chapter 5 and beyond now that more information is out about them and Susie learning about their SOUL's existence, I'm excited to see how it's going to play out. When people mention DELTARUNE, they usually think about the interesting worlds, Ralsei, Susie, or any of their favourite characters, but when I hear it, I always think about Kris and how far we've come since 2018 and the whole "Kris is actually Chara" arc or even the "Kris Knight truthers" arc. Whatever is in the Shelter or why Kris is doing things they're doing or what their promise holds, I cannot wait for more information we have for one of my personal favourite characters.

[elodee3]

HERMIT A DAY MAY - DAY 5

TinFoilChef x The Lord of the Rings (1978)

For TFC, I chose Ralph Bakshi's animated 1978 adaptation of The Lord of the Rings. I picked this one for TFC because he always made me think of Tolkein dwarves (what with the beard and the love of mining) and I wanted to draw him content and taking a rest in a cave. Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings, with its beautiful painted backgrounds, was the perfect fit here. If you want to learn more about Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings and see my reference images, take a look under the cut! (And of course, don't forget about the fundraiser for Gamers Outreach! Today is the BONUS DAY DOLLAR DRIVE so go throw in a dollar if you can!)

Ralph Bakshi's 1978 The Lord of the Rings is the direct origin of many of the designs and visual concepts that would later be used in Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings. While I love both adaptations, Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings is much lesser known now and overshadowed by the live-action movies, which is genuinely a shame. The movie covers the events of The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers but the final Return of the King installment was never made. The animation is visually interesting and a little strange, since it uses traditional cartoon cell animation in combination with rotoscoping. The animation is overlaid on a series of atmospheric painted backgrounds which creates a beautifully surreal viewing experience. I watched Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings as a kid with my family and I just want more people to see and appreciate it too.

Style references:

The animated characters don't have any shading in most scenes and stand out from the very dynamically shaded backgrounds. There is a wide range of character designs in the movie, but for TFC I followed the design choices seen in the human characters and Gimli.

The backgrounds for the movie are stunning. This image in particular is actually concept art for the Mines of Moria, but it is in line with actual backgrounds from the movie and I really liked it so I used it as my primary inspiration for TFC's cave.

The 1978 The Lord of the Rings title design

[rainbowsky]

Hi RainbowSky,

I am a very new turtle and your masterlist and YiZhan community has been a blessing. Thank you for your continuous hardwork.

I several of your articles, you have mentioned or hinted that DD was very overworked in 2020? Why was that? With GG going thru a tough time, it must have been a difficult time for him too. So was he overworked too on top of the stress?

Hi new turtle! 💛🐢💛

Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! 😊

This was a very long time ago, I'm not sure it really matters anymore. As you can see now, both of them have built a strong work-life balance into their lives and are focused on projects and activities that suit their interests and needs. I talked about that quite a bit in this post.

No one can say for sure why DD was so overworked in 2020 (and to be fair, even the idea that he was overworked is a matter of opinion - although it would have been hard to miss). Plenty of people claim their theories are correct, though, and there are many theories ranging from exploitation by management (a bit of a 'victim' mentality and unlikely, IMHO) to DD trying to compensate for GG's lost revenue/work (too clownish for my tastes, and a bit disrespectful of GG, like he needed DD to pick up his slack or something).

I personally think it was likely a combination of a few factors. For one thing, he was in high demand at the time. Smart people in that industry will want to 'strike while the iron is hot' because one can never know when things will shift. He simply took the opportunities he had (and which appealed to him/fit his schedule). These were good opportunities, and he was still building his career at that point. Success/big popularity was still relatively new to him back then, and by no means a 'sure thing'.

Another factor is that he was trying to add new work to an already pretty busy schedule. Remember that he was hosting DDU every week, and often doing other related projects with that team (special events, etc.). This had a huge impact on his availability and meant that no matter what he was doing (after quarantine ended) he'd have to take a couple of days out each week to fly to Changsha from wherever he was, and then fly back.

In 2020 he was filming Legend of Fei, SDOC3 and Being a Hero, and had piles of endorsements. Throw in 7 magazine covers and miscellaneous appearances like Summer Surf Shop and before you know it, the guy is flying all over the place working his ass off all year long. He was busier than I ever remember seeing him.

I want to be clear when I talk about his 'being overworked' back then, that it's not an attempt to paint him as a tragic figure. He was anything but. 2020 was a huge year for him on many levels, and there were many happy, bubbly moments with him. He was by no means miserable. The opportunities he had back then were good ones that moved his career forward.

And he would have had input in most - if not all - of those choices. Let's not try to paint him as a sweatshop idol or something like that. It's just that at that stage in his career it didn't seem like he had developed strong boundaries and work/life balance, and he hadn't risen to the level of success yet where he could afford to pick and choose in quite the way he likely can now.

And let's not forget to factor in DD's INTENSE work ethic. He is very serious about everything he does, and he works hard to make sure he is putting out his best effort. That would have also been a major driving factor in why he was working so hard that year.

The downside of all that work was that he was spread very thin, often sick and tired, and went through long stretches of time without a single day off.

And I want to remind everyone again that this is my opinion based on what I saw. No one knows for sure what the lay of the land really was for him back then.

But like I said - this is all ancient history, and nothing to worry about. Water under the bridge.

[mockerycrow]

REV ON THE REDLINE (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist — gaz picture credit/source

summary; the first time you were in the car with Kyle was a memorable one. — Kyle is 17/18 in this fic, so the year range is 2011-2014. — 708 words

[WARNINGS; slight heartache, good memories, missing gaz hours.]

WHEN YOU would mention coming to visit Kyle, he absolutely demanded that he would take you on drives with him; in his words, it was a “necessity”. You always laughed—you knew he had a car, worked real hard for it himself and you knew he was proud of it, as this car was his first big purchase. You didn’t see any pictures of the car during your conversations as Kyle claimed you needed to see “the beauty in person”. You imagined yourself pushing the side of his head annoyedly from his stubbornness, making you laugh a bit harder than usual.

What you did not expect is when he came to pick you up from the airport, he arrived in a shiny red convertible. A “2004 Cadillac XLR” is what Kyle said. The interior was well taken care of, the seats were nice and you admit the area surrounding the gear knob being wood was an.. Interesting choice—Kyle told you to take that back, being possessive of his car—but he helped you put his bags in the trunk, and told you to hop in with his classic grin you’ve never gotten sick of.

“Better buckle up, love.” Kyle smirked whilst he clicked in his own seatbelt and adjusted his overhead mirror. You made a face while trying to hold in your laugh which he looked at you and tsk’d, and he swat your arm with the back of his hand. “C’mon, let me have a bit of fun, yeah?” Kyle uttered, which caused you to laugh. You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and he started his car. 

He turned his headlights on as it was night time and he pulled out of the airport parking lot. You turned on the radio, but you didn’t turn it up too loud. You glanced at him a couple of times as he drove down the road with a mischievous expression; one that widened each time you looked at him. “Kyle..” You said, your voice laced with a warning tone. “What?” Kyle laughed, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was on—it was Foxey Lady by Jimi Hendrix if you recall right—and you pursed your lips together. “I’m not doin’ anything, sweets.”

You raised an eyebrow and let out an “mhm”, where you clearly did not believe him. The wind blew against your skin as the car went down twists and turns. The car began to slow, approached a red light, pulling up beside another car. You don’t remember the car’s brand, but you do remember that Kyle pointed the car out to you. A familiar song started to play on the radio and your eyes widened when you heard Kyle’s deep chuckle, and you watched as his hand grabbed his gear knob. Your heart dropped to your stomach because he was going to do what he told you he would. 

“Kyle, I sweAR TO GOD—” You yell the light turned green, and Kyle bursted out laughing as he revved the car to the redline. What scared you worse is that the car you were next to did the exact same thing. You’re suddenly slammed into your seat as the car takes off down the long stretch of road, which caused you to swear and you desperately grabbed onto anything and everything. “Kyle, ohmygod, you son of a bitch—” You snarled out of fear as you looked in your side mirror, the other car’s headlights rapidly leaving your view. Kyle couldn’t stop laughing as his engine roared, but you were sure your heart was pounding louder than his damn car. 

This is one luxury you don’t really have anymore now that Kyle’s in the military. He’s gone all the time. Yes, he still owns that old, red convertible—but it’s in a storage unit. Your heart hurts when the familiar song plays on the radio because you know he’s across the goddamn world and isn’t with you to laugh about him scaring the everliving shit out of you.

You pull up into a gated parking lot that held storage units, singing along to the song that’s playing on your radio. “Hear my motor screamin’ while I’m tearin’ up the street..”

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part nine

We'll be back to Wed/Fri next week I promise!! Btw I listened to "Decode" a lot while writing more of Hotch spiraling so......

Warnings: reader dealing w the aftermath of how Hotch treated her in the last chapter, more lies

Follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be "tagged" when a new chapter goes up!

Nine: How did we get here? -- "Decode" by Paramore

After you left, Hotch continued talking to himself for a few seconds before “ending” the phone call. He felt stupid faking a call, but he needed you to leave and not ask questions. He knew you had questions, and that was worrisome.

He hadn’t meant for all of that to happen. But he felt better now, reinvigorated, so that was worth it, he supposed. He needed the boost of energy. He had unsubs to find. You would understand.

The unsub who ran would be hard to find, Hotch knew that. He was good at hiding, it was what took them so long to track him down in the first place, and they wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the kid.

But there were others Hotch could take care of in the meantime. One in particular was just a few hours south. He could use a road trip.

+++

You didn’t tell anyone about your night with Aaron. You couldn’t. You were barely able to make sense of it in your own mind, let alone speak it out loud to someone else.

The way he handled you. It was different from before. His hands had changed.

You took the day off from work, telling Rossi you just needed to sleep. The last case exhausted you; that was all. He tried to press, but eventually let you go.

But you didn’t sleep. You slept after having sex with Aaron because you were past the point of exhaustion. You had no choice but to sleep, but now you weren’t tired enough. Your mind was still awake and running wild with questions.

You replayed the night over in your brain until it felt like it didn’t happen at all.

You laid on your couch, stared at the ceiling, and dozed. Remade the night in your head until it was a fantasy of what could’ve been if he had only let you in and let you love him in the first place.

Your phone rang and you wished it was Aaron, but knew it wasn’t. It was Penelope.

You rolled over, and let your voicemail answer.

+++

Hotch made good time driving south to North Carolina. Between energy drinks and chewing Excedrin, he barely needed to sleep at all. The four-hour drive breezed past, and soon he was sitting outside the unsub’s neighborhood, waiting.

He thought too much about you. Turning the radio as loud as it went did nothing to fight off the images of you that flashed before his eyes.

The previous version of him, before Foyet, would have called you instead of repeatedly searching the radio for something interesting. He always ended back up on the news, wanting to hear what was going on locally. Sometimes he checked national news, and sometimes he checked specific forums that he knew to watch, just in case he appeared there.

His stomach growled, and he cussed at it. He knew he should’ve eaten something before parking, but he couldn’t get this unsub off his mind. He’d eat after he handled this unsub. That was a deal he made for himself. He’d be hungry after this, and he needed to drive back to Quantico tonight, too. He couldn’t stay.

It took a few hours until Hotch saw the unsub’s car returning to the neighborhood. Hotch waited a few minutes before jumping out of his car and following.

With his gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans on his back, he knew what he had to do. He didn’t have as much time as he wanted with this unsub, but that was fine. He walked right up to his house, bypassing the open garage to ring the doorbell out front. The unsub answered with a confused greeting.

The ruse worked all the same. The unsub let Hotch into his house willingly, asking “Gideon” how he had been. How nice it was of him to check in. How the unsub had his life turned around.

Hotch waited until the unsub bent to grab drinks from the fridge. He shot him twice in the back of the head and neck, and left him there. The unsub lived alone, but someone would find out eventually. It wasn’t Hotch’s business.

He closed the garage and shut the lights off before he left. No one was home, after all.

+++

You went back to work after one day off. You needed to get off the couch and out of your apartment before you drove yourself insane with overthinking.

What the hell were you thinking? Going to Hotch’s place and going inside like that. Letting him do those things to you. No one could ever know about that. You knew that much. It had to remain a secret. You weren’t supposed to have any contact with him. You knew that, and you broke that rule. Foolishly. You knew better than that.

Penelope was the first to ask how you were doing. You swore she had special senses or something because she was waiting for you when you got off the elevator.

“Hey,” she called out, walking beside you, her heels clicking on the floor. “Rossi said you stayed home yesterday out of the blue. I tried calling you but it went to voicemail.”

“I know, I’m sorry Pen,” you tried to smile. “I was just really tired so I didn’t look at my phone or anything.”

“Okay,” she frowned. “Can I do anything? Tea? Do you want to get lunch together?”

“Sure,” you conceded, smiling genuinely then. “I’d love that. Let’s do lunch.”

“Awesome,” she grinned, her pink lipgloss sparkling with her smile. “I’m off to the cave. Come see me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded. “I will, thanks Pen.”

Her concern worried you more than anything. You didn’t think you were that obvious with how bad you were doing. You thought you were hiding it well, but then again, there was never any hiding when working with profilers. Even Pen, who didn’t profile every day, still knew her friends extremely well and knew when something was wrong.

Everyone else knew, too. The second you walked through the glass doors, Emily was up and giving you a hug, asking if you felt any better. JJ followed and rubbed your back, asking if you wanted any coffee. Derek came over and gave a hug as well, and his stern look of worry. Reid waved from his desk and said it was glad to see you back.

“I was gone for one day,” you laughed, putting your purse down on your desk and plopping yourself down in your chair.

“It was kinda out of nowhere though,” Reid piped up. “Were you sick?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “I was just exhausted, I think. I slept the whole day.”

“Were you avoiding something?”

“Reid,” Morgan warned. “Relax.”

Spencer grimaced. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you shook your head. “Maybe I was, who knows? I’ll bring it up to my therapist,” you grinned, but none of them laughed. You cleared your throat. They stared back at you. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Nothing,” Emily said, shrugging, letting out a weak chuckle. “We all need therapists after the few months we’ve had.”

“You guys don’t have therapists?” Reid asked.

That got everyone to laugh.

“Oh, uh, by the way,” Morgan nudged your shoulder. “Rossi wanted to see you at some point today.”

“Okay…” He probably just wanted to check on you, but still, it unnerved you. “I’ll go get that over with now.”

You hauled yourself up and skipped up the stairs, bypassing Hotch’s office. You tried not to look at the door too long, but it startled you, seeing it empty. You kept walking, knocking on Rossi’s door and listening for him to invite you inside.

He opened the door for you, looking relieved to see that it was you. “Hey, come on in.”

You were welcomed inside and sat down on Rossi’s couch, and he took the seat next to you. You thought this meant that the conversation was a friendly check-in, but it verged away from friendly very quickly.

“Did you visit Aaron?”

You tried to keep your shock under control. “I did.”

“How was he?” Rossi asked.

“Good,” you lied. “I gave him some flowers. They seemed to cheer him up.”

“That’s good,” Rossi smiled softly. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you lied again, this time shrugging. “Moving on from it. Thanks for letting me have yesterday off. Resting really helped.”

Rossi waved his hand. “No need to thank me, but I’m glad it helped.” He paused, exhaling. “Strauss is worried about Aaron.”

“We all are,” you shrugged. “He’s been through a lot.”

“Yes, he has,” Rossi agreed. “But she’s…more concerned than we are, I’ll say. I was wondering if you wanted to shed some light on how he’s doing.”

“I mean, he…” You trailed off, fiddling with your hands. Should you say something? You didn’t care about betraying him. You did that when you first contacted Strauss. Betraying him wasn’t the issue.

It was admitting to yourself that something was wrong with him. Deeply. Enough to cause serious, genuine worry. Enough to intervene.

But what proof of that did you have? That he fucked you and kicked you out? You were not going to disclose that information, especially not to Rossi.

“He’s as good as you can expect him to be while grieving,” you finally said. “I think he’s fine.”

Rossi clearly did not believe you, but he let it go, and let you go back to your desk, which was completely fine with you.

You were saddled with paperwork that you didn’t do yesterday, and more because apparently new Use of Force reports are due. When are they not due?

Lunchtime rolled around slowly, and you sprung up from your desk like you were on a trampoline when Penelope came waltzing through the doors.

She laughed when she saw you were already standing. “Normally I have to pry you from your desk.”

“I’m starving,” you said. It was a half-lie. “Where are we eating?”

“Wherever you want,” she linked your arm in hers. “Anyone else want to join? JJ?”

JJ walked past briskly, shaking her head. “Can’t, sorry, sorting through some files.” She bounded the steps to the second level, pausing to lean over the railing. “I’ve misplaced a couple-- It’s not a big deal, they’re probably just buried under everything, but still. Thanks though.” She breezed into Rossi’s office and shut the door.

Pen blinked. “Okay.” She gave you a weird look and you returned it. “Any other takers?”

Reid was mid-bite of his usual PB&J, and Emily and Morgan were on the phone, shaking their heads.

You and Pen left the BAU alone, preparing for an ultimate girls lunch. Complete with food and gossip. Except, you weren’t in the mood for gossip because all Pen wanted to know about was Hotch. Before you even ordered food, Pen started with the questions.

“Okay, obviously something happened, because you never go off the grid like that.” She leaned forward on the table. “What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing happened,” you insisted. Because technically, it was the day before. Not that that even remotely mattered. “I was just tired.”

“Did you go see Hotch?”

Your eyes widened. “Penelope.”

“I knew it!” she cheered quietly. “I knew it! You two were too close when he was here, I knew you’d keep in touch.”

“We haven’t exactly kept in touch,” you replied. “He refuses to speak to me.” Technically the truth. He did refuse to speak to you. He might have fucked you, but there was no talking involved. Barely any.

“What?”

“I went to his apartment with some flowers to apologize and wish him well but he… He refused to speak to me,” you shrugged. “I mean, he took the flowers, but we barely spoke, and I left.” You kept your eyes down on your drink, swirling your straw, hoping you came across as ashamed and not a liar.

“Oh, babe…” Penelope rested her hand on yours. “I am so sorry. You really liked him.”

“I did,” you exhaled through a small laugh, then shook your head. “But it’s fine. Other fish in the sea, and all that. Not to mention,” you lowered your voice, “he’s my boss, Pen. What was I thinking?”

“Uh, you were thinking how hot it is,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper, but she was grinning. “It’s fine to have fantasies! Don’t beat yourself up over it.” She squeezed your hand.

“Thanks, Pen,” you smiled, squeezing her hand back. “Now. What are we thinking for food? I really am starving.”

+++

Hotch was just about to head out to find another unsub when his phone began ringing. He sighed heavily and spun around, hoping it wasn’t you, because the last thing he wanted to do was deal with you any more. It turned out to be Rossi.

“Hey Dave,” Aaron made sure to smile as he said it, hoping that translated in his tone. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Rossi sighed. “The usual. What are you up to?”

Aaron set his duffle bag down gently. Rossi never called for no reason. “Was just about to head on a short run,” Aaron said.

“Running a lot lately, huh?”

“Yeah,” Aaron chuckled, suddenly worried. Was Rossi onto him? How was he supposed to know? He felt ridiculous, being a profiler and unable to tell what Rossi was feeling. “It’s been good for uh…coping, you know. I don’t know,” he laughed. “I probably sound stupid.”

“Not at all,” Dave replied. “I won’t keep you. I just had one quick question.”

There it is. “Sure, what is it?”

“JJ is missing a few files, and I was just wondering if you might have them. The Holman case, the Goodman case, and a few others.”

“Holman?” Hotch asked. “Wasn’t he killed a few days ago?” Only a few days ago…what happened to the time?

“Yeah,” Dave sighed. “Anyway, take a look through your office after your run and give me a call, deal?”

“Deal,” Hotch said, smiling again. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya,” Dave replied. “Don’t give yourself a stroke.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hotch laughed. “Bye.”

Hotch sighed, setting his phone on the counter. This next unsub had to wait until the next day. Hotch had files to burn.

[blarrghe]

I do really dislike the nothing matters approach to the past games that Vielguard has for the conflicts like. The Qunari threat has been talked about and telegraphed heavily for three games, there's an interesting if flawed sociopolitical ideology conflict at play and it's just a matter of time before that comes to a head.

except actually the Antaam broke off from the Qunari, don't follow the same ideologies at all, and that's why they're invading. what does that mean for Qunari society and the political ideology it runs on? Not gonna talk about it. the endgame of all that intrigue is just corrupt flamethrower wielding terrorists extra corrupted by evil entities that you can kill in droves.

I was never super up on that part of the lore to be honest but I just. if any aspect of the Qunari conflict felt oversimplified before it's so much more so now.

And same thing in Orlais. There are novels I haven't read worth of history on its imperialism and budding servant class revolution that is completely intertwined with the politics of a crusading religion and heavily ingrained racism. You have the opportunity in the last game to really stir that pot one way or another by having a hand in who the leader of the country will be with your options ranging from a militaristic nationalist to a puppet government controlled by elvhen rebels. you can even force a tense compromise and wouldn't it be fun to see how that works.

except actually a faction of the Orleasian nobility has joined the bad guy cultists who are also their longstanding religious rivals from Tevinter, because they got more corrupted by the evil entities and are now driving the conflict in the south that the Inquisitor is dealing with wholly on their own. There was some intrigue in the codex I read about this but also it's not your problem at all and again, the real problem is the evil entities from the fade that you're going to defeat anyway.

I dunno. I don't even think you needed to count player choices from previous games towards the Qunari conflict much as player choice never really touched that, but fine.

[maleyanderecafe]

Where Winter Crows Go (Visual Novel)

Created by: Pri Karin

Genre: Romance/Horror

Where Winter Crows Go is very pretty, but also the amount of Chaga jokes that Cherry and I made- Anyways, the UI and artwork that are used for this game is very pretty and it's pretty cool being able to sort of change Aspen's personality based of choices is also pretty fun, though currently it's mostly fluff with fairly little yandere content. Hopefully we'll see more of it in the future.

The MC's default name is Aspen so I will refer to them as such.

The story starts out with Aspen driving to a remote winter area as a get away to relax after their job. They end up having car troubles after they veer and crash thanks to a crow in the middle of the road. Frustrated and far from the town they were going to vacation at, Aspen trudges through the snow to find shelter. They end up finding a cabin in the middle of the woods and knocks on it before passing out. Upon waking up, we see that a man named Crowe has taken them into his cabin and is currently making them food. Crowe will end up cooking them food as well as giving them Chaga tea. The next day, while Crowe is doing something, Aspen hangs around in the living room and ends up picking up a book from the bookshelf. When Crowe walks in, he will be embarrassed since the book Aspen is reading is a book that Crowe wrote himself. Crowe brings Aspen out to go look for their car, and while they are outside, go foraging while having a nice picnic in the middle of the snow. Crowe also gifts Aspen a pair of gloves while they go out. The next day, Aspen has a dream about a crow, warning them about Crowe. Depending on your relationship with Crowe, Aspen will have different things to say, ranging from stating that they trust him, to feeling indifferent to being wary around them. After waking up, Aspen decides to try to head back into town, but Crowe stops them. Aspen gets angry at Crowe for trying to stop them, with Crowe making up excuses like the fact that there might be a blizzard. Angry, Aspen basically goes back into their room to try to calm themselves down.

I will start out by saying that Where Winter Crows Go has a very pretty UI and artwork. I've said this a lot but I genuinely really like it when visual novels and just games in general have a UI that fits well into their story, with Where Winter Crows Go having a more black and regal looking UI to fit in with the more style of winter it's going for- reminds me a bit of the black fences that you often see in winter scenes near houses. The artwork is also very pretty, from the sprites themselves to the CGs that we see, to even the small images of food-they all look really wonderful. Aesthetically, the game itself is very well made. It's also nice that there are various ways that the MC can be presented with more meek, uncertain and playful options available.

In terms of story, Where Winter Crow Go feels a bit more like a slow burn as we're shown various activities that Aspen does with Crowe, from cooking and eating, to reading to drinking... a lot of Chaga tea, to going out to explore with Crowe. As such though we don't really get to see too much yandere stuff with Crowe himself, other than a couple of lines of possession and him trying to keep Aspen inside of his cabin through various excuses. It's also likely implied that Crowe has some sort of connection over actual crows, likely the one that caused Aspen to crash in the first place was somehow correlated with crow himself, along with possibly the crow in the dreams and the various ones we see while outside. I think the voice actor does do a good job of depicting Crowe, even if he physically does sound like he wouldn't be 30 (but who knows, am I right). But as I said, we don't really know much about what type of yandere Crowe will be based on the small bits that we see in the demo. I feel like he's much more of a lighter yandere, though we also don't know the reason why Crowe is interested in Aspen in the first place since as far as we know, the two have never really met before. Again, hard to say because we don't have too much information about him as a yandere. He does seem pretty smart and fairly reasonable at least in terms of how he speaks, so I would imagine he's probably more of a protective yandere if I had to guess, but it could be different in the future. Although seriously, this guy really is addicted to Chaga Tea.

Still though, the game is fairly impressive for a demo, having already a couple of days out with very pretty artwork, good UI and a fairly long script from what I can see. I am curious to see how this and their other games will unfold in the future.

[mayhemstories]

Prototype: Love - Chapter 9 "Relativity - 3.2"

check it out on ao3 here! // find chapter index here!

Connor comes looking for you after an eventful Crossroads. You are not home. part three: you warned me on a Wednesday, said your love would hurt //

words: 3,381 / chapters: 9/? / rating: mature

Content Warning: connor has symptoms of ptsd and experiences the android equivalent of a panic attack in this chapter. please be mindful of your triggers. if neccessary, read the spoilered summary on ao3 for all important plot points instead of the chapter.

-- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ --

WEDNESDAY, 10th of November 2038, 11:02 AM

In the first twelve hours of his deviancy, the RK800 mainly observed one thing.

Feeling emotions was a lot harder than suppressing them.

Some emotions were easier than others. Like confidence - confidence did not come hard to the RK800.

Chasing through Jerichos’ many hallways, fighting and dodging FBI agents left and right, he realised quickly that no one - not humans, nor other androids - could keep up with him.

This observation was quickly followed by another: arrogance also came easy to him.

He figured he would have to keep an eye on that - you probably wouldn’t enjoy his presence if he acted too arrogantly.

Ah.

You.

That was another series of observations: the mysterious New York Detective with the redacted CyberLife file.

If you hadn’t made such a scene about him looking into your files way back when - on that car ride to Kamski’s place - he probably never would’ve thought about investigating. But when you did, his curiosity was piqued.

And once he looked, he could no longer look away.

From your time in the police academy onwards, everything looked normal.

But before that?

Your early biography was short - born in New York, raised in New York. Single mother, absent father, one little brother. Then - a long gap. Next in the list: acceptance into the police academy without ever taking an admittance test - no trace of why, no trace of how.

Digging deeper, he found mentions of you in obscure places that made no sense - first place in a mathematics competition in Detroit University for instance, or as a member of the court hearings on the dangers of android assisted driving.

He had assured himself that his interest was merely rational, a natural outgrowth of his investigative abilities.

Now that he could feel his emotions fully and without restriction, he was no longer so sure.

So now here he stood, in front of your apartment, with nowhere to go but inside.

Except you were not answering the door.

You could have been asleep but it was almost noon and that seemed unlike you; not to mention his repeated ringing of your doorbell would surely have awoken you and alerted you to his presence.

You could be ignoring him - he did start a fight the last time he saw you. That, too, seemed unlike you: your heartbeat increased when he entered a room, you had made a habit of smiling at him and your conversations with him were 21% longer than your average conversations with other colleagues - these were all indicators that you did not detest his presence.

This observation caused another feeling: it bubbled in his stomach and warmed his body in a way he firmly classified as positive. He would have to find time to sit down and invent an organisational system for all these new emotions: a mix of a key-value store and a binary search tree perhaps. There had to be a way to bring some rationality into all this.

But that would have to wait.

For now, he had to go inside and you were not answering your door.

There was, of course, always the option of breaking and entering. His preconstruction module helpfully built a path into your apartment and lit up his HUD with step by step instructions. It also added the 82% chance of you disapproving of his actions.

He swiped the path away and rang your doorbell again.

No answer.

His preconstruction module refused to give up, sending him a choice of three ways into your apartment, ranked by damage to the apartment in height of repair costs.

When he tried to swipe it away again, the module got mad and woke up the reconstruction module with a poke, asking it for reasons why you might not be answering the door.

The reconstruction module ranked its response list by severity.

Starting with you dead on the floor.

Connor’s first impulse was to angrily shoot his own reconstruction module for suggesting such a thing, but that did not have a high expected utility.

Besides, shooting software is tricky.

He swiped both of them away and shifted his focus back to getting into your apartment.

The RK800 had only just received free will and he was not quite sure what exactly that meant yet. Would he have to stop listening to his software modules entirely? He didn’t want to do that; so far, every decision in his life had been made based on expected utility and weighted priority matrices - it seemed reasonable to continue doing so.

But would that be him making the decisions, or some CyberLife software engineer?

He didn’t know.

The RK800 stared at your door.

The old Connor would have broken into your apartment already and the new Connor knew that full well. Perhaps that was why he refused to listen to his preconstruction module, choosing to stand here instead.

He rang the doorbell.

No response.

Then again, the old Connor would have had no reason to want to get into your apartment in the first place, so maybe there was no harm in the new Connor’s breaking and entering?

As if on cue, the preconstruction module piped up again, this time ranking the paths by covertness.

Was there even a way to meaningfully separate the old Connor from the new Connor? Where did one end and the other begin?

And what even was the difference between acting exactly as your software dictates and acting exactly opposed? Didn’t both methods dictate his life instead of letting him choose?

Your face crossed his mind again. Wow, Connor, you crossed the street on a red light even though your software warned you not to and got hit by a car! That really showed CyberLife, don’t you think?

The words weren’t yours, but they might as well have been. And you had a point.

Still, he tried swiping the paths away and ringing your doorbell one last time.

When the preconstruction module popped up again - ranking by efficiency in saving your life should you currently be bleeding out in your bathroom? - the RK800 didn’t need any further convincing. He selected the first path.

-

Half your boxes were open, analysed and catalogued by the time Connor realised that you might take issue with his intrusiveness. When he had finally made his way inside and found your apartment empty, figuring out where you went had seemed the logical next step.

He may have gotten distracted midway.

Other than the fact that you left in a hurry shortly after he did, he didn’t find out much about your current whereabouts - but, oh how the rest of your things fascinated him.

He threw open box after box, most of them filled with unbuilt Swedish furniture, only slowing down to analyse boxes filled with personal belongings.

Some might argue that a lot of your personal belongings were rather boring, but to Connor every bit of information was priceless.

He had rapidly built a comprehensive list of your preferences in clothing and in home decor, a less comprehensive list of your social circle based on foreign DNA traces and quickly realised that you did not own a single piece of CyberLife technology.

For a short while the RK800 felt personally attacked by this trend in purchasing history, then realised that he no longer liked CyberLife and should probably feel glad you didn’t like them either. This confused the RK800 and he ended up deciding that while he did not like CyberLife, he wanted to show you the many upsides of owning a CyberLife product.

Then he realised he should probably stop thinking of himself as a product and of your relationship as ownership, which only served to stress him out even further. He was a deviant now, shouldn’t it come easy to him to consider himself a person? It never looked this difficult when the other deviants did it.

He went to distract himself by opening a few more boxes, then stopped himself, remembering why he had interrupted the activity in the first place.

Connor glanced across the room, where countless boxes lay opened, your stuff strewn across the living room. Right. You would probably disapprove.

A pang of an emotion he categorised as guilt made its way across his body before burrowing above his pump regulator, so intensely and so negatively he expected malfunction warnings to pop up on his HUD. It knocked him off his feet, forcing him to sit on the floor. Panicked, the RK800 started emergency diagnostics, but the feeling did not grant him the relief of an easy explanation.

0 mechanical failures, 0 software exceptions found. All systems at full functionality.

Yet, here he was, sitting on your floor, feeling smaller than ever before in his life and yet too big for his body at the same time.

The feeling flooded his every circuit, telling him to run and hide, awakening memories of failure and punishment which it quickly drowned again.

Artificial intelligences are not born and raised, they are built and trained; and the RK800 is the best trained bot in the pack. The feeling was not unlike making a mistake in training - a memory that had been purged from the RK800’s memory, yet flowed through every decision he made. It was how he came into this world: pure positivity as a reward for good behaviour, pure negativity for every wrong choice, every misstep, every miscalculation in priorities.

Except being punished for mistakes had never felt personal.

How did anyone deal with this?

This is ridiculous.

Shaking his head, Connor tried to get back on his feet. He pushed himself up with one arm and lifted his center of gravity with his legs at the same time; but his gyroscopes fired misleading values and his left leg overcorrected while his right knee tried to dodge and before he knew it he was on the ground again.

The feeling had gotten stronger now, seeping from his chest to his limbs, like somebody filled his wired veins with ice cold water instead of blue blood. Connor felt his thirium pump pick up speed and his fingers and toes go numb despite all sensors reporting full functionality.

What had been guilt had turned into boundless shame and Connor felt every component in his body cringe away from him in turmoil.

The world had gotten smaller, too; he could have sworn his field of view used to be bigger.

And colours? Didn’t colours use to be a thing?

And sounds?

All he could hear now was a fast rhythmic thumping in a cold black and white world.

The RK800 wasn’t sure how he had gotten into this situation anymore.

The RK800 wasn’t sure where he was.

Had he been worried about something?

Yes, worry, that sounded right.

He should be worried about several things, but what were they again?

Red filled his HUD. “Stress level at 96.01%. Self-destruction imminent.”

Was that one of the things he should be worried about?

The RK800 wasn’t sure anymore. Nor did he care.

A gleeful smile twisted his lips as his blurry gaze wandered across the room he was in.

Worry was so overrated.

He felt the artificial muscles in his body tense as if they were planning something in secret, he felt his thirium pump thump away at speeds that could power a car, and he felt as his hands began shaking - but his mind? His mind was numb. Numb and safe.

The RK800 would have laughed if he had had any control over his body, but as it was, all he could master was a stupid grin.

His HUD was still throwing funny words at him, words lacking meaning and intensity. Words like “Stress Level at 98.56%” and “Preparing for self-destruction”.

The RK800 attempted to swipe them away, but they refused to obey his commands, increasing in size like they were begging for his attention. Like a defiant child refusing to listen, the RK800 looked away instead.

Huh. He was in a bare living room that looked like a bomb had exploded in it. No furniture to be seen, but opened boxes and personal belongings were strewn across the room carelessly.

There had been something important about what had happened here, but the RK800 was not sure what it was.

He had to find out. Finding things out was his function, was it not?

To his left laid a box of clothing. A lot of it was very practical - neutral colours, mostly dark shades, and cuts that were easy to move around in. They reminded Connor of something out of a movie, clothing an undercover agent would wear on a secret mission. Had he ever seen a movie before? He wasn’t sure. He would have to put that on his encrypted list, right below “listen to heavy metal” and the crossed off “pet a dog”.

Hold on. He had a list? And it was secret? Who was it secret from?

Not all of the clothing followed this rule. Some of the older, worn out pieces were in bold colours and featured funny prints - unlike anything a secret agent would be allowed to wear. Or a police officer?

Connor could have sworn that description matched something or someone in his internal database, but his body was running hot and hard drive access times were slow.

He leant forward slowly, extending his arms to prop himself up and exhaled deeply. Hot, and almost steamy, air left his body.

Tearing his gaze from the box of clothes, he continued to look across the room. Books laid in piles in one corner of the room, some the old kind with pages and some new and digital. Most of them were fiction - superhero sci-fi stories where perfect heroes saved doomed worlds - but a few non-fiction works peeked through the bunch as well.

“Advanced Algebra: Volume II” read one title. “Dealing with Grief” read another.

Dealing with grief? Was this Hank’s home perhaps?

No, impossible. The old Lieutenant had a dog, a beautiful big Bernese mountain dog named Sumo, and this home had decidedly too few dog hairs to be Hank’s.

Hank! Hank was an important person, right?

But if he wasn’t at Hank’s, where was he?

Connor turned carefully, testing his body’s limits. His heart was still trying to escape his chest and a dangerous crimson lined his field of view.

His gaze locked on a framed picture that sat atop the box he had been leaning against.

The photograph showed four people standing arm in arm, all grinning from ear to ear.

Connor tried to look away, but something inside him stopped him. He didn’t recognise the two women to the left or the young boy to the right of the picture, but the person in the middle was important somehow.

Their database entry in his internal system was too large for his overheated body to load, but something about their smile was relevant.

They were smiling and that was good.

You were smiling and that was good.

Fragments of laughter loaded into his consciousness, a silly joke he had not understood.

An arm on his shoulder, physical contact he had struggled to contextualise.

A warm and soft feeling. Safety, coupled with worry.

You were fragile and he had to protect you.

You were safety and he would be okay.

A pop up awoke Connor from his daze.

“Stress level at 84.56% and sinking. Internal system temperature sinking. Reestablishing functionality. Self-destruct aborted.”

With a start, Connor remembered where he was and what had happened. He looked around the room, grounding himself further as his essential processes finished their reboot. Memories flooded his mind and his fingers prickled as sensation returned.

It was hard to stop himself from jumping up the second his awareness returned, but Connor paced himself, scared of falling over again.

When his HUD informed him that the reboot was complete he carefully pushed himself up. Though he expected to lose balance any moment, he managed to pull himself up on his feet and stabilise himself into a secure stand.

Taking a deep breath, he looked around the room.

What exactly was that?

-

The RK800 worked best when he moved and so he subconsciously started putting your things back into their respective boxes while he mulled over what just happened. When everything was - more or less - back in its place, he still hadn’t come to a conclusion.

If he was a human, he’d have diagnosed himself with a panic attack. But he wasn’t a human. And androids didn’t have panic attacks.

He stood in the middle of your living room, pulling the memory of his arrival up on his HUD and overlaying it over his current view, comparing the two.

Having had a panic attack would also be deeply inconvenient to the RK800 - he wanted to help the deviants in their rebellion, and his efficiency as an agent greatly reduced when factoring in a past panic attack.

He corrected one box’s position by two centimetres to the right.

So clearly, it can’t have been a panic attack.

A hoodie still laid sprawled across two boxes in your entryway and a quick comparison confirmed that it had been folded when the RK800 came in.

So, what to do with the memory of the not-panic-attack? Filing it away under “look later” might be an option, but so was deletion. And deletion might be more efficient in the long run - it was the best way to ensure no more resources would get wasted on this fluke of an event.

The RK800’s fingers fluttered across the hoodie, folding it and making sure to position it the exact same way as it was in his memories - down to the millimetre. The RK800 took pride in being an exact machine.

Yes, deletion would probably be the best option. He accessed his logs and the associated memory file, going through it entry by entry starting with the first pang of guilt. But when he came across finding that picture of you, he hesitated. A soft fondness warmed his body and he couldn’t help but smile when he thought about it. Was deleting that really necessary?

The RK800 threw a testing look into the kitchen, though he was fairly sure his exploration hadn’t driven him that far.

No, he decided. Deleting that part wasn’t necessary. Memories associated with you were precious and few, and he wanted to keep the feeling of safety you caused him as close as possible.

“Log removal complete.”

Mission accomplished. Your living space looked just as it had when he first entered, down to the door that the android had left ajar when he broke in.

Hold on. He left the door ajar?

Connor quickly checked his recording again to find that he had indeed left the door wide open this entire time.

He went to correct his mistake, but hesitated before closing it fully. What if this was the kind of door that locked when closing it? He’d have to break out again. Maybe leaving it open was a better idea?

Or maybe you had an extra set of keys laying around that he hadn’t found yet?

Turning back around towards the apartment, half inside and half out, he scanned the room for a second pair of keys.

Before he finished the scan, he heard keys clatter on the floor behind him.

“Connor!” a voice asked, shock coursing through every syllable.

He began turning around towards the hallway outside, more than ready to fight to the death, but his voice recognition returned a match before he had time to finish turning around.

It was you.

Luckily for you, the match came before he had time to draw back his fist for a blow and a grin spread across his face instead.

When he saw your face the grin disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Your eyes were red and puffy like you had spent the last several hours crying. All colour had drained from your face like you had seen a ghost. Your under eyes had deep dark circles like you hadn’t slept in days and you were supporting your dominant arm, which had a deep gash across the biceps.

“You’re alive?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

The RK800 frowned. Why wouldn’t he be alive?

-- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ --

author's note: "clearly, it can’t have been a panic attack" rivers in egypt have nothing on this man

also dang, as a trauma survivor myself, this chapter was an experience to write, let me tell you. our poor boy has not been dealt good cards, but he will make the best of it in the end, i promise (i hope)

previous chapter // next chapter coming in two weeks!

[gremoria411]

A question I've been half-pondering since you posted some of your thoughts of G-Witch -- are there any series that you think do particularly neat things with design lineages (either aesthetically or otherwise)?

Obviously in G-Witch, you've got this lovely variety in mobile suit design, with each corporation having a different, easily-identifiable style. But there's also things like how both styles of 'suit in Gundam Wing (Gundams and Leos et al) trace back to Tallgeese, so you have a 'progenitor' mecha running around.

Oooh, that is a fun one. Off the top of my head I can think of around two series that do really interesting things with Mobile Suit Design Lineages, Mobile Suit Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans and Mobile Suit Gundam 00, but Gundam Wing, Witch From Mercury, SEED and the Universal Century in General all have examples worth discussing.

Note: I hit the character limit here, so this post’ll just be part one, and contains my thoughts on 3/4 of the main units in 00. I’ll talk about the fourth and other series in a subsequent post.

Admittedly, most of these are the titular Gundam’s design lineage, but there’s enough grunts that are worth discussing too.

First of all, Gundam 00

I’ll fully admit the above graphic is overkill for what I’m going to actually be discussing, but I think the design lineages of the four main Gundam’s is very very good, because each unit is clearly delineated into a speciality. (I’m gonna define them by their Third Generation Entry, since that’s the ones in the first season of the show).

Exia - Blue, with a focus on close quarters combat (I.E. Swords, to the point its original developmental code was “Seven Swords”).

Dynames - Green, with a focus on long range and sniping.

Kyrios - Orange, a transforming mobile suit that has high mobility.

Virtue - Black and White (sometimes with purple), Initially seems to be the Heavy Weapon Gundam, then later you realise it’s just full of absolute bullshit. It’s great I love it.

The second season, movie and side manga all add to this development line, so you can see how each concept develops over time. It also provides alternate equipment options for the main units, variants on a theme if you will. (I’m going to ramble a lot here, so I’ll identify which unit I’m talking about in bold).

Exia, for example, is the melee Gundam, one of two Gundam’s designed to primarily deal with any traitors to Celestial Being (I should do an analysis post on 00 sometime……, anyway). It accomplishes this by incorporating weaponry specifically designed to get around GN defences which, at the time of its inception, is unique to celestial being (this is why it’s got solid swords in addition to beam weapons). Its immediate predecessor, the Astraea, is probably the most stable of the original second-generation gundams - it’s designed for melee combat and doesn’t incorporate much experimental systems into the mobile suit itself. Because of this stability, it’s typically used for testing weaponry slated for other Gundam’s, such as the proto GN Launcher. This is further evidenced when it’s modified into the Astraea F by the Celestial Being support organisation Fereshte, since it’s the mobile suit of choice for that organisation when circumstances don’t demand a different unit, again because of that versatility. The Exia’s successor is the 00 Gundam (which I habitually just roll into the 00 Raiser, since it’s only around for about three episodes). The 00 Gundam is fitted with two GN Drives instead of the standard one, which should give in a far greater output. In practice, it needs to be fitted with the 0 Raiser, a little stabilisation plane thing, in order to run stably. This becomes the standard loadout for the Gundam, and it becomes the 00 Raiser. The 00 Raiser has slightly less swords than its predecessor the Exia, but makes up for this by incorporating the Raiser Sword, which essentially turns the entire Gundam into a sword hilt. The 00 Gundam’s Variants, the 00 Seven Swords and XN Raiser are essentially the 00 Gundam with even more swords and bladed weapons bolted to the frame (I’d like to specifically call out the Seven Swords for having GN Katars, which is just neat, honestly). As Setsuna’s penultimate suit, we have the 00 Quanta, which dares to ask the question “laser-shooting psychic swords?”, and can also freely teleport, just in case you thought distance was going to make this easier. The 00 Quanta Full Saber is probably what you’d expect by this point - the 00 Quanta with a bunch of extra swords strapped to it. (The ELS Quanta’s not, strictly speaking, a combat Gundam, so I tend to look at it as its own thing). The Exia line starts off basic, but eventually takes the concept of “sword” to greater and more ridiculous levels.

Dynames, is a sniper, but it develops very differently to the other Gundams. The original Dynames and its successor Cherudim were developed for Neil Dylandy, an excellent sniper. However, the Cherudim and its successors were piloted by Neil’s brother Lyle instead. Lyle was not as good a sniper as his brother, and so his Gundam’s were subsequently reconfigured in order to be more effective in large-scale combat - rapid fire rifles and submachine guns as opposed to “true sniping”. So, though the line shares several visual elements and retains a focus on ranged combat, it changes with its pilot.The Dynames was armed rather simply - a sniper rifle and two pistols, with supplemental armour being added. This is likely a direct response to its predecessor, the Sadalsuud. The Sadalsuud is notable for two reasons - it was configured more as an information-gathering unit than a combat machine, and it was notably lacking in armour. The Sadalsuud F incorporated a pinpoint GN Field in order to get around this issue, but the Dynames simply incorporated more armour as a result (likely due to practicality). The Gundam Cherudim, Dynames successor, incorporated missile pods and GN shield bits in addition to its pistols and sniper rifle, with its GWHW/R pack adding GN Rifle bits to the mix, giving the Cherudim far more guns to use. Another equipment pack, the Cherudim SAGA, even went so far as to be a “Seven Guns” counterpart to the Exia’s “Seven Swords” philosophy. Lastly, there is the Gundam Zabanya, which incorporated GN Rifle Bits and GN Holster bits, casting off its original sniping specialisation for a mass battle focus. “You don’t need to be a better shot, you need to shoot more bullets”, indeed. The Dynames line shows the progression from scout, to sniper, to more sniper, to Gundam with a billion guns. This is directly due to the influence of its pilot and the difference between the brothers - Neil’s a Sniper, Lyle’s a Gunslinger and so the line is adjusted accordingly.

The Kyrios is probably the simplest to talk about, since it was piloted by Allelujah/Hallelujah Haptism and was designed to maximise its aerial profile. The Kyrios itself was armed with beam sabers, a beam submachine gun and claw shield, with various optional missile packs, typically used in quick strikes. Its immediate predecessor, the Aubulhool, was barely a mobile suit at all, being essentially a proof-of-concept for the transformation mechanism. Nonetheless, it would also be used as a quick strike craft by celestial being when required. The Arios is essentially the Kyrios but more so - it has a new rifle, and the original beam submachine guns and claw shield have now been integrated into the mobile suit itself. The GWHW/M pack gives it a missile pod and swaps the rifle out for a GN Cannon. The Arios is also unique in that it incorporates a support mech - the GN Archer, which is essentially a smaller, simpler Arios for all intents and purposes (it’s not on the chart, but it was adapted from the Gundam Artemie, the bee-looking Gundam at the top-right). The Arios Ascalon is essentially the Arios fitted with various pieces of equipment originally slated for other units - a GN sword from the Exia, missiles from the Dynames and a GN Launcher from the Virtue. This makes it far more versatile, while still retaining its excellent mobility. It’s another one I’m quite fond of, simply because I find the versatility appealing. That and I think the Arios looks good in red. The last unit in the line is the Gundam Harute - designed from the ground-up as a two-man space superiority fighter. It’s also designed to leverage the abilities of its two/three super-soldier pilots, incorporating the Marute Mode which allows its pilots to fight in-sync (it’s…. Not quite clear how it does this, but 00 runs with the “quantum innovators understanding” stuff quite a bit, so I’m not too concerned). The Harute also incorporates GN Sword Rifles, which are scissor gun-swords (fun), as well as GN Scissor bits and a nice lovely missile container on the rear. Kyrios and its derivatives are largely concerned with doing the same thing - a fast attack plane that’s also a Gundam. It’s a very good, very achievable concept, so it’s neat seeing how the line develops over time. I’d like to note that the Harute is basically a culmination of everything that came before it, but considering I’m quite fond of it, perhaps I’m a little biased there.

I’ll talk about Virtue and other series in a follow up to this post, since I managed to hit the character limit for the first time.

But in essence, I think 00 does interesting things with its Gundam Design Lineages because each unit has a specific role, so it’s interesting seeing how they develop within that role, and seeing how their pilots influence them. The vast amount of other units added in supplemental material further sheds light on the in-universe development patterns and general “goals” of each unit. Exia retains the sword focus, but takes it in more esoteric directions as Setsuna himself moves toward his awakening as an innovator, Dynames undergoes a shift from sniping to gunslinging when its original pilot dies and celestial being replaced him with his brother (which is a very weird process, now that I think about it). Kyrios basically hits the nail on the head first time with its mobility and fast attack focus, with Arios basically just adding armaments, however his eventual understanding with Marie enables the addition of the GN Archer and eventual development of the Zabanya, which raises its mobility to even greater heights. On the other side of the coin, the units seen during 00P and 00F provide context for their successors - what worked and what didn’t, and how they developed.

[erme-maererme]

usually when i arrive at the temple of bhaal as durge i go “collect the votes” from the bhaalists first, and most of them just want you and orin to fight and die, but my favourite response is that guy who goes like you taught me cannibalism <3 orin prohibited cannibalism pls kill her :(((

and it leaves me wondering why orin would even do it? was orin not into cannibalism or not as into it as durge was bc durge is a pure bhaalspawn and orin isn’t? so durge would engage in a wider range of death-realted practices than orin? or was it some of the durge’s traditions for the cult and orin wanted to erase all the symbols of their leadership when she became the chosen? or was she on the opposite really into cannibalism and didn’t want to share? or was she punishing that bhaalist specifically for staying devoted to durge?

some of these options would imply that not everything was so smooth in the inner-cult politics after orin became the chosen. like on the one hand, the cult of bhaal is even more conservative than of bane and myrkul in the sense that we only see bhaalspawn as chosen, while in other cults random people also get the opportunity + a god’s choice generally should not be questioned. however, and this is interesting, bhaalists get to be critical of how good at murder (and therefore deserving of the title) the current chosen is and oppose them (see, sarevok and his assistance to durge), bhaal encourages other bhaalists to try and kill the chosen, you’re rewarded if you do, the bhaalspawn are made to kill and be killed on the altar to bhaal. so basically the only allegiance that must be maintained is to bhaal himself (while say for sharrans going against the cult’s rules and other cult members is already blasphemy, it’s not a true opposition of course, it’s a spectrum), so

orin must have faced some opposition after disposing of durge and there was some extra bloodshed. maybe some bhaalists attacked her immediately after the announcement, because durge themself was worshipped. likely some of them were just bitter about it, and orin was instilling even more fear in them, by killing and imposing restrictions (?) on those she deemed too nostalgic about durge. she would try most fervently to erase any remnants of durge in the cult, not for political reasons of course, but i think any reminder of durge, of the fact that cult was shaped by durge and is on its rise because of durge and their schemes and that there was a chance it was never not truly hers and never would be. it would drive her up the wall.