#the journey matters even if everything reset in the end

[badlydrawnjotaro]

[offside-the-lines]

MattDrai Fic Recs

So @irrelevanttous and @puckthisshift sent me the ask meme prompt for "what my favorite Mattdrai fic is" and I went on a JOURNEY lemme tell ya. I ended up figuring out how to download my AO3 history (in which I discovered that in the last year, I've read like literally 50% of all the MattDrai fics ever written) to help me figure out what my faves were. So here are some (most? I hope?), split into categories.

General Faves:

head above water by yourblues (@msmargaretmurry) 🔒 (E, 91.1k) This might be one of the best pieces of RPF ever written; it's a classic. I have visited this fic literally 21 times. It has everything: stupidity, pining, incredible sex, falling for each other, also more stupidity. Chapter 6 literally rips my entire soul out every time. I think this fic permanently altered my brain chemistry. It's a perennial re-read.

only fools rush in by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 94.9k) This is another fic that is a Must Read for HRPF as a whole. The entire time, I just want to reach through the screen and wring both of their necks for being so incredibly dense. And I love everything about this, especially just the way it's written is so incredible.

Growing Into Someone by @blaahaj 🔒 (E, 46.5k) God, I love this fic so much, I come back to it all the time. I think this must've been one of the first Mattdrai works I read. But I just love how natural the initial tension is, and how inevitable their falling in love is, and how the climax happens and resolves is just so incredible.

Undo Falling for You by crookedsilence (@csblogs) 🔒 (T, 16.1k) This is an AU I guess? I put it in this section because it's Hanahaki, so like only kinda AU. Either way, I am obsessed with this! It is just emotionally perfect. Highly recommend.

rough dream? by reticent 🔒 (M, 7.2k) So, this fic is probably the most "out there" suggestion because of the warning (I'll get to that part) but this fic is literally the most perfect microcosm of what Mattdrai fics tend to have: pining, lack of communication, falling in love while being terrified of falling in love, etc. This is a time loop fic where Matthew is stuck in the time loop but it's told from the perspective of Leon. It is absolutely incredible. I think about this fic ALL THE TIME. The warning is for a suicide, but no "actual" character death because the time loop resets.

i'll tell you when to stop by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 39.6k) (McMattDrai) This is the real answer to 'what fic do you send people if they want to get into MattDrai'. I have sent this to so many people because it is perfect. Everything about this is perfect. Matthew's internal dialogue and his anxiety, and his perception of what's happening. The second half of the fic is so well-written and suspenseful. Something I feel it will give me a heart attack even though I've read it like 10 times.

Future Fics

Saving the Best for Last by @puckingtrash 🔒 (E, 100.1k) This is the fic that made me obsessed with Future Fics of current rivals. There's just a level of camaraderie and understanding that happens after that many years in the same league; it doesn't matter how much beef you had. And this fic is just so incredible. I love thinking about what these guys do after retirement. A must read IMO.

home by now by daisysusan (@hopetorun) 🔒 (E, 102.3k) Probably one of the best fics. I love the way this builds up and keeps you on edge. It really mirrors how Matty feels, just this general unease of knowing something is wrong but not knowing what. The laying of the pining with the hurt and confusion is just so well done.

back to where we lasted by @ohtemporas 🔒 (E, 34.4k) Trade fics are always so interesting with these two. Especially in the situation where they are exes. And one of them (Leon in this case) has fucked up greatly, and they need to figure out how to get past it because neither of them are over it. Or in this case, figure out how to do it again, but properly.

Old Flames Burn Brighter by @cisumox (E, 25k) I love this fic so much because of the way they are both clearly affected by what happened and how much they still want to love each other. I think about this one al the time. Warning: this does involve a career ending injury.

settle down in the Sunshine State by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 14.7k) This has my fave Mattdrai trope where one of them is a fucking idiot, and is so in their head about it. And they have absolutely no idea what literally every single other person knows. In this case, it's Matthew. I absolutely love this fic. I read it all the time.

gather your broken lessons and move by rumandwhine 🔒 (E, 30.5k) This one is super interesting because it doesn't involve a trade, or them in the same place. It is the same as it was before, but different. How are they doing to figure out what went wrong and how are they going to make sure they don't make the same mistakes? They are older now, but are they any less stupid. Keep reading to find out. (Also featuring an absolutely hilarious situation with Drai and his rookie).

AUs

linger by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 65.5k) (Omegaverse) This is another all timer. It is so incredible: the way they are just so inexplicably drawn to each other, and obsessed but so worried about their obsession. And the way Leon treats Matthew as something really special from the beginning (and how Matthew just doesn't seem to pick up on that). The way that things build towards the climax, with the ASG 2023 moment (which makes me want to rip my eyeballs out every time; it HURTS). It has all the best parts of omegaverse and explores their relationships with their dynamics so thoughtfully.

whatever promises I made by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 360k) (Omegaverse) Yet another all timer for the genre as a whole. The way that omegaverse is explored here is so interesting. It was the fic that really got me on board with the AU. It is so core to the way the characters interact with each other and the world, and the inherent traumas it brings really parallels some of the experiences of populations in the real world (e.g. women).

so is the longing by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 44.7k) (Omegaverse) When I tell you I have read this fic sooooo many times. It is so so good (and so hot). Matthew is so incredibly oblivious and Leon is pining so hard and down soooooo bad. I think Leon's love for Matthew can be seen from like Alpha centauri and yet Matthew totally misses it (among other things). This is SO good.

Egos and Eligibility by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 91.1k) (Regency & Omegaverse) I will continue to suck up to my good friend Iris LOL. But seriously, I read this before I even knew it was her and I love it so much. I adore Regency Matthew and the way Leon is literally ever MMC from the era (Mr Darcy) is so funny to me (why so pissy Leon). Regency is such a perfect setting for the Omegaverse tropes of courting and, also again, exploring the societal impact of having these dynamics in play. I think the part where Matthew goes into heat is SO funny and well written. Bridgerton wishes.

Royal Pain by lavender_hazyy 🔒 (E, 48.9k) + Sequel Rules of Engagement (E, 37.8k) (Medieval/Royalty/Bridgerton/Robin Hood) That sounds like the most bonkers combination of things, but it's truly so so so good. I recommend this one SO much. It's so much fun to read, and their interactions are so funny. Poor Connor is always experiencing the Horrors in the background. Everything about this is perfection. THE FUCKING LOVE LETTERS OMG.

bittersweet and strange by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 53.4k) (Fairytale Curses) Will I ever stop thinking about this? Probably not. :) I think so much of this is a metaphor for the "beast" that Matthew portrays himself to be (maybe believes himself to be) irl. Also, I will never get enough of Taryn as a character; she is just incredible. I will literally never forget the reveal at the end (and ever villain I ever write will be henceforth inspired by you). (Also, curly haired tiger Matthew, you will always be real to me. Leon + me *handshake emoji* wanting to tough Matthew's fur).

I honestly don't even think this is ALL of the Mattdrai fics I think about regularly/reread regularly. But these are at least a lot of them. There are also so many good recommendation lists on this website when you search for "mattdrai fic recs" that will include even more fics than the ones I've selected.

Legitimately, thank you to all Mattdrai writers out there for being the fucking GOATs. I don't know what I would be reading if not this.

[csuitebitches]

Using CSB - Easiest Guide to Levelling Up

I get asked very often how one should use CSB. I’ve created these templates multiple times but I believe that this is the simplest version of what I can give you.

If you’re a beginner who is just starting their level up journey; or if you struggle to be consistent; you find yourself resetting often; then this simple guide is for you.

1. Make a list of all the goals you have in your life. It could be anything - health, wealth, mental health, beauty, anything.

2. Create your SWOT (Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats). Define your strengths and weaknesses well.

3. Revise your goals again based on your SWOT. Define them as short term (0-3 months) and long term (3 months+).

4. Decide three goals that you want to tackle now. 2 short term and 1 long term.

Example:

Short term: finishing the last sem of uni; finding a job; reading 2 books this month; completing an online course.

Long term: losing X amount of weight; consistently meditating, etc.

5. Build a habit stack. Define a time for all your 3 goals. Start with 3, no matter what. You’ll build your way up slowly - the upper limit should not exceed 5 at a time.

Example:

Morning: reading

Afternoon: doing an online course

Evening: working out

5. Set a weekly target. Set a monthly target.

Example:

Reading: 3x week.

The only time you can increase your goals or increase the intensity is if you meet 85% (0.85) of them in a month.

Example: reading 3x a week

Total number of days in a month: 12 days (3 days * 4 weeks)

Minimum number of days: 10 days (approx 12* 0.85)

Only if you reach your minimum goal of 10 days can you increase your goals/ intensity. How would you do this? You could perhaps increase reading days from 3 to 5 a week; or number of books from 1 a month to 2 a month.

What happens if you don’t reach the 85% target? Then you stick to the original target (reading thrice a week) until you achieve your 85% monthly consistency goal.

6. Monthly revision

Keep a diary where you note down your progress/ use a habit tracker to keep a track of everything. You need to ask yourself 3 questions at the end of every month:

1. Do the tasks I’ve chosen play a key role in the person I want to be? OR, do my tasks line up with my goals?

2. Am I meeting the 85% target for all 3 tasks this month? If no - why?

3. Can I take on one more task? (Simple yes/no)

This is also a good time to check in and ask yourself - are these the goals I still want to stick to? Should I change my goals?

7. Dealing with discipline, motivation and rest days.

You need to keep your tasks simple initially for the discipline to kick in to avoid procrastination.

The motivation will come when you define your end goals.

You need at least 1 rest day a week/ 2 rest days a month (depends on you) where you do nothing but just chill and relax.

[ponder-the-orb]

Just as you are

Pairing: Fem Tav/Gale

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Fluff and angst

Word count: 5K

Summary:

It’s the quieter moments that are the worst. When Waterdeep itself sleeps in peaceful reverie and the pain yells for attention, he can hear the ticking of that clock. There’s such fleeting time to make something of himself again - now free of the expectation of his peers or his goddess, just himself.

He runs a hand down his face, a cold smile tugging at his lips.

It’s just another push to his own folly if saving the world from illithid invasion somehow doesn’t feel like enough anymore. ***

Even with the orb gone the pain still lingers, reminding Gale of everything he left behind before he became its exhausted caretaker.

Read on AO3 or below

Gale was never one to believe in destiny. He’d always thought that chalking love or success up to a predestined path was the jealous man’s excuse. It scrubbed away the effort he’d so carefully put into his own choices, as if even his hardest work was merely window dressing for a play long since written. There’s order to life and death. Even magic has its causes, precise manipulations of the weave needed to bring wonders anew- things his hands had been trained to do for as long he can remember.

Right now however, it all feels so irrelevant. Alone atop the sinews of the Netherbrain’s stem, he can’t fathom a word that tastes right other than destiny. 

The landscape writhes with a mess of tendons and grey matter, the air thick and cloying with each of his measured breaths. The sky aches an angry red, smoking like one he’d witnessed while crashing through the hells those weeks ago. 

He smirks. It’s funny how that handful of days feels like a lifetime and how much his plans had pivoted since then. He’s no longer waiting for some kind soul to pull him free and humour his mistakes. 

He cradles the knife pressed to his chest like an old comfort. What he’d give for another handful. Just a few more precious hours to feel parchment in his hands and grass under his boots. Perhaps just one more conversation. He isn’t sure if he can even recall the last words he spoke before heaving himself up here. He likes to think a few of his turns of phrase will linger in happier anecdotes, maybe even sung in the ballads of this journey amongst drinks and firelight.

It’s a warm thought, but one he knows not to dwell on. In a few seconds it will all be gone, he’ll be gone. His debt finally repaid.

The fire between his ribs flashes harder with each passing second like the magic itself knows the cage holding it back is ready to break. He had always wondered what it might look like when it was unleashed. He’d seen various ends in his dreams, ranging from screaming maelstroms to near silent puffs of magic swallowing everything in its wake. 

However it looks, he only hopes those he’d spirited to safety could find some comfort in it. One last gale to end it all.

The orb brightens as he quietly exhales, allowing himself one final prayer before he presses down.

“When your sky dims, I’ll be there. Waiting.”

He winces. He waits. And his hands just won’t move any further.

He looks down and his own wide eyes stare back in the reflection of the unmoving blade. He tries again but the tip stops as it touches skin. He squeezes the handle until his palms burn raw but the knife stays where it is, shaking and misty with sweat. 

A louder explosion ripples through the sky in front of him and an army of nautaloids blink in existence around the brain.

Something jagged lodges in his throat as he watches. He can’t do it. Time has run out and his body won’t let him do it. The blasts around him fade into a muffled thrum as white hot panic melts into his hands. 

It was supposed to be easy, like resetting a bone or pulling a splinter. One flash of pain and then the world will be free of both the invasion and the apocalypse still pulsing inside of him. He can see the logic and his promise, but both sit so quietly in his mind compared to another thought. The one now screaming like a hurricane between his ears.

Why do I have to die?

It’s such a petulant question. Six words against the fate of the world. But six words that are growing in strength with each passing second. Six words hammering over and over in his thoughts until he can feel his heartbeat mimicking that hard hot rhythm.

His thoughts scatter like rats from sunlight. Yes, his borrowed time should have run dry months ago but does that mean he has to be content with his fate? To let go with a smile and misguided pride?

His muscles seize and shake as he thinks. His breaths come faster, more desperate as his blurry reflection loses colour. The fear he’d kept so tightly boarded behind his resolve has no trouble working its way free now. It floods through his veins and tugs at the threads of his plan until they unspool. He almost drops the knife as his promise dissolves and he sees the void he’s already plunged one foot into.

His surroundings blur into a bruise-coloured mess.

Gale tries to swallow. This isn’t right. He’d always wanted to end it on his own terms and save the people he loves. What is he if not bound to honour that? 

His hands finally still, a realisation blooming like a chilled breath under his skin.

These aren’t his own terms. They never were. It’s a death warrant painted the colour of salvation. The easiest way for Mystra to rid herself of two problems at once and he’d been all too ready to march to the gallows.  

Fingers suddenly clamp over his with biting pressure. He tries to jerk back but they hold him firm, the touch ghostly familiar. The face of his goddess meets his as he looks up. Her eyes, once lit by the glow of the weave itself, now watch him coldly like shards of glass. 

He stops pulling, pinned under her dispassionate gaze. He searches for any hint of gratitude or grace, one suggestion that this act will actually mean something.

He twists his hand to touch hers. It’s a caress once so familiar to both of them, one final plea as he leans forward. 

“Please.”

She stays silent and pushes the knife in with one sharp thrust. 

The reaction is immediate. The flood of Netherese magic seeps out and scorches through him with blinding pressure. He staggers back as she presses the knife to the hilt, the pain finally roaring to life and eclipsing everything in a supernova of heat and magic.

~

The dream swims away all too slowly as he jolts awake. It catches around his eyes and in his throat, drawing down to a familiar throbbing ache in his chest. He throws one hand against it in a crude shield, the other blindly reaching out to grab something, anything to quell the hunger. His fingers slam into a bedside table and he hears a few things softly roll to the floor in the dark.

The dark. 

He looks at his hand. There’s no glow under his palm and his skin is clean of those swirling purple lines. He rubs his smarting fingers, trying to steady his thoughts as the remnants of that nightmare swim away.

The orb is gone. He’s safe. He’s home.

The bedroom in his tower is blue and still, near silent save for the rain washing against window panes and his own stuttered breathing. He runs his hand down his face, wiping away the sheen of sweat that’s beaded there. The pain flares as he moves, pulsing bluntly like he’s being kicked apart from the inside out. He doubles over and fists the bedsheet. It hasn’t been this bad in a while, dashing away his fragile hope that these bouts would disappear with enough time and rest. 

He waits for this wave to pass, silently grateful that at least he’s at home this time. Stumbling in the street is not a good look for any respected wizard and he’s forever grateful that Tav had quick enough reflexes to grab him before he ended up with a face full of cobblestones.

He looks over, glad that his little outburst hadn’t disturbed her. She’d rolled to the very edge of the mattress and buried herself in ninety per cent of the blanket, her face a relaxed curve. His hand hovers over her visible sliver of shoulder for a few moments but he pulls away, folding it back against his chest and slipping out of the room.

He scrubs himself with water hot enough to melt glass and lies on the washroom floor until the pain settles into a more familiar rhythm. In and out. In and out. Sometimes he pictures it as a light flashing or a warning signal, ‘catastrophe incoming.’ 

He closes his eyes, reminding himself. The wound isn’t real. Not really. He’d seen that orb crushed between divine hands as easily as an eggshell - his final time standing before his goddess. She’d called it her forgiveness for relinquishing the Crown of Karsus into her care.

Forgiveness. He scoffs towards the ceiling. The word tastes sour now. It was something so easy for her to give and yet it took every fibre of his being to earn. The years may have passed but the memories are still there- forever eating at him like the orb’s phantom hunger in his chest. How many nights had he lost to begging after she’d cast him away? Praying until his knees were raw and his throat arid - sure that if he hurt enough, pleaded enough, that if his devotion was painful enough she’d finally appear again. And yet his heavens remained silent. Only when he felt the first flicker of happiness after a year of solitude did the road to that forgiveness have a form, one not even granted to him by her own lips.

Oblivion. 

He almost hates himself for truly believing at one point that it was a fair trade.

He lies until the exhaustion feels a little less heavy in his bones before padding up to the balcony of his library. The sea beyond is wine-dark, the boats dancing in a maddening pattern in the harbour. It almost feels like an echo of the ache behind his sternum. Tara’s usual spot on the bench is vacant, but he’s not so cruel as to wake her from whichever corner she’s made her bed for these colder nights.

He rotates between several spells as he sits: fire, ice, rot, light. They all flutter between his palms with ease, the balcony a shifting glow of different colours as he repeats the pattern again and again and again. It’s a new habit. The familiar motions are a small reminder that he’s still in control, even if his body might try to tell him otherwise. 

He dismisses the embers in his hand and leans back against the cool stone wall. It doesn’t help.

Before, it had been easier. It turns out world-ending catastrophes are a fairly good distraction. He may have spent his nights sleeping on dirt and staring at the sky wondering if these were his last few hours alive, but he had a purpose -  a goal, a use. Save the world or die trying… so here he is now- the next chapter sitting squarely in front of him, wide and unwritten. It’s not as if he expected to pick up exactly where he left off before he became the orb’s exhausted warden. That time is forever lost and there’s no use trying to reach back to such heights. Ink cannot unsoak itself from parchment, rain cannot fall back uphill during the storm.

Except they could. He could make it so if he wanted. What were the laws of nature if not to be bent and remoulded under an archmage’s fingertips? 

His chest cramps again and he digs his fingers into the bench until he’s sure they’ve bruised. 

The mess of his old work still sits like a dusty museum exhibit in his study. He’d stopped trying to sort through it all a few weeks back, when the frustration started to crease deeper than the lines growing on his face. He recognises his own hand but it almost hurts to read now, like relearning another language. The words are clunky on his tongue - not quite useless but not enough anymore. If he stares too long he can feel that great chasm where his talent was once devoured even more acutely- some great maw open and waiting.

It’s the quieter moments that are the worst. When Waterdeep itself sleeps in peaceful reverie and the pain yells for attention, he can hear the ticking of that clock. There’s such fleeting time to make something of himself again - now free of the expectation of his peers or his goddess, just himself. 

He runs a hand down his face, a cold smile tugging at his lips.

It’s just another push to his own folly if saving the world from illithid invasion somehow doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

“It’s hurting again, isn’t it?”

His thoughts stop wandering as he turns towards the voice. Tav stands in the doorway, her posture drooping with sleep. She’d forgone their blanket for a smaller robe, but it’s doing little to hide the shivers wracking her body. Her eyes furrow with an old concern as they drift to his chest then back to his face. 

He swallows a pang of guilt as she shivers again. “I’m afraid so.” He lights one of the table lanterns with a snap of his fingers, casting the whole balcony a soft orange. “Did I wake you?”

“No but you should have,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. 

The shadows under her eyes are deeper than his own, a testament to her nights spent looking for an answer to this.

“I thought at least one of us deserved some unbroken rest.” He means it. Any hack with a necromancy tome can fix a body, living or dead. The brain is an entirely different matter. He’d seen other wizards claw themselves to madness trying to unwind their own minds looking for knowledge or memories hidden in those dark corners. She shouldn’t need to follow in those footsteps.

“Do you want to go back inside?” She asks, taking a step forward.

He shakes his head and brushes the spot next to him. “Come. Sit with me for a while.”

The tension bleeds from his torso as little as she curls against him, her hand resting over his chest with a familiar weight. He gently guides it over the space where it hurts the most-  half on the man, half on the mistake.

“You know what I was thinking about?” she says as she settles, her bottom lip soft against his shoulder.

“Tell me.”

“Dame Aylin snapping that wizard’s spine over her leg like a twig.”

“Lorroaken?”

She nods. “That’s the one.”

Of all the horrors they’d witnessed during their turbulent adventure, he knows that image will be permanently stained into his memory- how the violence of that wizard’s own making had come back to break him with a full, sickening crunch. 

“Any particular reason you’ve been dwelling on such violent memories this evening?” He asks, stroking a tangled piece of her hair.

Her gaze drifts to some random spot across the sea. “I was just wondering if I’m damned because I didn’t feel any shock when that happened. All I could think was how he completely deserved it. It was almost… funny in  a way.” 

When he doesn’t immediately respond she drops her face to her knees. “I know. It sounds awful. Gods, what does that even say about me?”

He puts his hand on the back of her head in a clumsy attempt to stop her own thoughts from spinning out as spectacularly as his had been.“Well if his ego was that self-inflated it was going to come crashing down around him eventually. Nothing good ever came from mortals trying to push themselves into the divine without thinking- consequences be damned. No matter how good their intentions.”

The parallel between that fool and himself isn’t subtle. She looks up as he says it, a tiny crease knit between her brows. “You know that’s not what I’m getting at.”

“I know. But I am. And if you think you’re damned then I am too. Because he did deserve it. If not by Aylin’s hand then someone’s.” Who that someone may have been for himself is something Gale had spent countless hours considering. Mostly he wondered if his own fall would have been so visceral and pathetic.

She holds his look for a long moment before resting her head back against his shoulder. “He had such a weasley face too. Almost exceedingly punchable.” 

He huffs out his first genuine laugh of the night. A small thing, but warm. “I would have to agree.”

She reaches out and laces his free hand with hers. “You made your choice, Gale. A good one.”

“With some help if I recall correctly.” He presses her palm flatter against his chest, his thumb brushing the crest of her knuckles. It’s one of a few things they’d tried over the past few weeks that seems to help, the pressure easing the worst bite of the pain. 

He twists to kiss the crown of her head, her eyelids fluttering at the soft touch.

“Do you ever regret surrendering all that power?” She asks as he pulls away.

He looks down, a little taken aback. “That’s quite the question.”

“I know,” she answers, her eyes focussed back out to the horizon. “But, do you?”

“Do you think that I do?”

“No. I mean, perhaps a little? Not that I think you’re upset about it but…” She leans away, waving her hands as if trying to pluck the right words from thin air. He sits back and waits for her to collect her thoughts, an eyebrow raised. 

“It’s not that I think you’d rather have made that choice, but it would be impossible for you not to wonder. And I really don’t think it makes you a bad person if you do.” She gulps air like a drowning woman as she finishes, avoiding his eyes. There’s a splinter of uncertainty in her voice, something taking this question beyond the hypothetical. 

He takes her hand again, making sure to softly enunciate every word of his answer. “No, I don’t regret it.”

“That’s it?” Her frown deepens when he nods. “Gale. You have never given me a one sentence answer to anything and I think this probably deserves one.” She tucks her knees under herself and turns towards him fully. “I need to know that’s not why it’s hurting.”

Ah. Now he understands. Pain born of unquelled ambition is not an unfair assumption of him, he thinks. He’d even spent a few nights considering it as well, but one reason quickly presented itself as to why it couldn’t possibly be the case. 

He tilts her chin up with his thumb. Her eyes shine in the candlelight, as deep as an ocean but there’s nothing hidden in those sweet depths. What he’d give to lose himself in that tenderness right now, a reminder that for as much as he doesn’t want her to- he’s worth being worried for.

“That is not the reason. Trust me,” he starts, gently closing his hands over her shoulders. “Yes, I have considered it a few times and that’s all too mortal of me to admit. However, not once have I thought that choosing Godly power would have brought me more than I have right now. I could talk until dawn about why surrendering the crown was the right choice, waxing poetic about the greater good and whatnot- but in the end there’s only one reason that really matters. It’s the same reason I didn’t heed Mystra’s command at Moonrise.” He leans down so each word brushes warm and sure against her skin. “It’s because you asked me to.”

Of course he wonders what would have happened had she not been there, about just how far his certainty could have taken him. When the crown sat in his hands he could feel the pull- a future draped in gold and silver as the true incarnation of the Karsite weave. He’d seen it for both of them too as gods side by side. Untouchable and beyond. 

And all she’d had to do was say please. Such a simple thing and yet it managed to dismantle all the ambition that had taken root so deep inside him. 

She keeps her head pressed to his for a long comfortable second before the hands on his chest loop around his neck to pull him closer.

“Sometimes I forget that my words mean more to you than that of a goddess,” she whispers against his temple, the taut curve of her spine relaxing under his touch.

He smiles. “I don’t have regrets. Not anymore. I fear when we met, that’s all I was- just a mess of poor choices stitched together with whatever vestiges of my magic hadn’t been eaten away. And even then you saw me as so much more. There was never going to be another choice.” 

He leans back, feeling his grin sharpen slightly as he caresses the tip of her ear. “And whether you see yourself as divine or not, you know I’m all too happy to get on my knees for you.”

He chases her answering blush with his mouth, following that pink spill to her forehead.

She playfully pushes him away as he kisses her nose, brushing a few escaped strands of hair back behind her ears. “So, what exactly is troubling you then? And don’t say nothing.” She pokes the crease between his eyebrows. “I can see it’s something other than the pain.”

He exhales and presses her hand back to his chest.

“I don’t think I know who I am anymore,” he confesses quietly.

The words hang in the air. It feels like such a trivial thing to say out loud but each word presses heavily on his tongue, sour and shameful.

She doesn’t say anything in response. The tell me is written plainly in her eyes and the hands softly brushing his skin.

“It’s strange,” he continues slowly. “After everything, I didn’t think that the bravado of Gale of Waterdeep would be something I missed, but the journey to find who I am now I’ve done away with him is proving harder than I expected.” 

He remembers when that first became his designation- when wizards from near and far knew the power of Mystra’s chosen. It came with pride and definitely a dash of arrogance but also tight boiling pressure. Year on year, he’d plan and write and cast, finding new ways to live up to that station. There’s a lightness now the expectations of those titles are gone, but maybe too much- like he could just disappear into the air.

Tav brushes her chin. “Well we can workshop some new ideas if you like. The Netherbrain Slayer. Or how about Master of the Worm.” She chuckles and spreads her fingers like she’s throwing the names into the air. “I’ve got a lot more.”

“I’m not sure I’d call those a marked improvement, love. Nor could I take all the credit for that victory.” He strokes her cheek, wincing as his chest seizes. “I know my previous title was a touch pompous but it’s who I was for some of my highest achievements… and my lowest moments I suppose. But it’s who I was when I met you. Finding something to replace that, or even having the need to replace it is a lot to think on.” He’s sure that if he has something else then perhaps he can finally wrap up that name and put it away. Something to prove that he's more than his renown, something other than Mystra’s discarded plaything.

“How about professor?” She offers.

He shrugs. The offer from Blackstaff Academy still rests atop his desk, the parchment curling further in on itself each day he ignores it. “I’m still considering it, though I’m not sure I can imagine myself a teacher.”

“You taught me.”

He smiles and tucks her closer. “That I did.”

That lesson in the weave feels like a lifetime ago. He can still see it if he closes his eyes- how for a brief few minutes, the sins of his previous desires weighed a little lighter. Having real, mortal hands so close and tentative to his own was a new kind of warmth, something bright and yellow that had only burned hotter when she’d used that magic to show him exactly what she’d wanted. That image had stayed with him for days afterwards: her hands in his hair, her body against his, kissing him gently and then with a fervour he wasn't sure he’d ever felt.

It’s the first night in a year he’d considered whether the risk of an explosion was worth following a feeling. A feeling that burrowed its way so thoroughly into his heart he can still feel it there, soft and red and eternal.

She presses her lips to his cheek. “And you really seemed to like it when I called you that last night, sir.” It’s her turn to chase the heat that blooms over his face, twisting her body over his until she’s sitting squarely in his lap.

Something stronger sets in her expression as the moment cools. She cups his face, pinning his gaze down with hers. “I need you to listen to me very carefully, Gale Dekarios,” she says. Her words are gentle but he knows a tidal wave could form behind her and he still wouldn’t be able to look away. 

“You know that I loved who you were. But that doesn’t change the fact that I also love who you are now. Neither of us are going to be the same person next week or a year from now or after whatever our next adventure may be. That’s just life. That’s mortality.” She guides his hand over her breast until he can feel her heart thrumming under his palm. “You’ll always have the whole of my heart, so it’ll be my privilege to know every version of you that comes to pass, even if you don’t know who that will be. And in the meantime- just be Gale. This Gale. Right in front of me.” She leans forward and presses her forehead to his, her fingers a warm cradle for his own. “Because he’s everything.”

She kisses him again as she finishes. It’s a gentle press, but she lightly parts her lips until he can almost feel her drawing out all the doubt in his mind and whispering it away. He winds his arms around her middle and tugs her until they’re flush together, letting himself drink in the comfort of her nearness. 

“Just Gale,” he murmurs as they pull apart with swollen lips and slightly hazy eyes. “Well if you’re already so enamoured with him, then I can certainly work with that.”

He strokes the length of her hand, turning it carefully between them like she’s holding his beating heart in her palm. He smiles again, thinking there could be no one better as its caretaker. 

It’s still a new feeling to have someone know him so intimately, body and mind. Even without the tadpole’s influence he’d shown her those deeper corners, the things he adores and the pains he wants to forget. And she didn’t wait to open for him, baring the things she so freely shows the world and those that will only ever be for him: the scent of her hair in the morning, the taste of her skin, the deep flush of her pleasure as she arches underneath him- each a gift. So he won’t stop giving in return. Giving and giving and giving as there will never be repayment enough for the way she looks at him. It’s a devotion worthy of the divine but as a man. As someone who’s more than just the sum of his talents or his mistakes. 

His gaze stops on the jagged scar by her mouth, a souvenir from the Netherbrain’s last desperate effort to stay alive.

He rubs his chest as he remembers. He didn’t have to fight it alone, even when he’d offered the orb up as the best course of action. Once he’d thought it a privilege to have someone to die for. How quickly that had changed when he was gifted something so much better. Someone to wake for, rest for, enjoy every sip of a glass of wine for. Someone to grab him by the shoulders, call him a fool and yell at him to live. 

“Perhaps one day I’ll discover what exactly I did to deserve you,” he whispers, his voice thick and raw with feeling.

She ducks down and kisses his chest, lingering against the spot where orb’s mark once rested. “You didn’t have to earn the right to love me, you know,” she murmurs, kissing there again before working her way up his neck and back to his lips.

Gale knows that he most certainly did but he’ll keep that thought to himself for now.

The ache flashes again, quieter this time. His hands dig into her waist a little harder. “Will you stay with me?” 

She shifts off of his lap and rests more comfortably against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

They sit until the pain finally subsides and dawn spreads like a pink veil above the sea. Once upon a time he’d thought he’d never see this view again, only to be conjured while lost in the grips of the shadow curse. 

He looks down at Tav, now fast asleep in an awkward bundle against his arm. He’d never thought he could show her either but she’d given him the strength to try and so much more. Hope. Hope enough to defy the words of his goddess and choose her, choose life, choose a happiness he hadn’t felt worthy of in a year.

He murmurs the same assent against her hair as he rouses her from her daze, ready to return them both to bed.

“You’re enough. This is enough. Always.”

***

I cannot believe this took me a month to edit. This may be the the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written.

[leejeann]

Listening to some of Epic the Musical again and only just noticed that Monster starts with the same electric guitar chord fade-in as The Horse and the Infant. Earlier I was talking to my friend about how Monster is so cool because it's like a mini character arc for Odysseus within a single song and I think that intro really fits that idea.

Monster is like a reset of Odysseus's determination to get home. Feels like he's back to the same level of determination as he was at the start, but in an entirely new context. Just like the power chord returning - a guitar that's been used to represent Odysseus throughout the story -but in it's own new context.

In The Horse and the Infant he was determined to do everything to finish the war and lead his men home as heroes. He didn't want to kill the infant, but if it meant saving his people then he'd reluctantly do it even if the weight would follow him forever. That power chord is a build into a determined, syncopated rhythm as he leads his men into one final battle. The tension it creates fuels the song that follows.

By Monster, it's more that he's determined to do anything it takes to get home at all. Doesn't matter how much of a monster he becomes in the process. If it gets him to his family it's fair game now. This time the power chord builds up to a release. An exhale; exhausted and somber. This time the tension it creates goes nowhere. It's like the ghost of his strength from Troy has finally dissolved, leaving nothing but the man-turning-monster in its place.

There's even a callback to Troy, specifically, connecting the two songs:

And if I gotta drop another infant from a wall In an instant so we all don't die Then I'll become the monster I will deal the blow

The Horse and the Infant ends with him wondering if killing an innocent child who is phosphatized to become a monster would make him one as well. He starts Monster worried that this journey has pushed him too far past that line to ever return, if there's even any good in returning, and he ends Monster decided that it does not matter anymore.

[decks-writing-blog]

Gordon Swap Chapter Three: Mirrored

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

~

Time was of the essence. There was little of it to spare when every minute that passed was another that the current disaster was allowed to continue, undoubtedly resulting in more death. At the same time though, preparedness was the thing that had reduced Gordon’s death count the most. So he moved fast, checking every room and breaking any boxes that looked like they might have something useful in them.

Blessedly only a few rooms after having settled back into this pattern of movement they walked into the aftermath of a battle. Who won didn’t matter because it meant the room was littered with dead aliens and more importantly, dead military. Guns of various sorts, ammo, grenades, and ooh, more trip mines and C4, Gordon gathered it all. He was armed and armored again at last.

Halfway through he was brought to a pause by a melodic tone, not immediately recognizable as any instrument he knew of. Straightening from the corpse he’d just finished looting, he looked for its source. … His guard companion was looking down at the bodies that been been brutalized particularly badly. A string of colourful light came from his mouth as did the sound. Seemingly anyway, it wasn’t the kind of sound a human should be able to make but the colorful lights orbs also shouldn’t be of human origin.

As the note ended, the light ceased flowing – confirming both were from him – and he looked up at Gordon. Did he expect a response? Gordon would’ve loved to ask him what that was and how he’d done it but had no easy way to communicate with him. It was cool though, whatever it was, so Gordon lifted a hand to give him a quick thumbs up before turning his attention to back to looting.

A beat of silence before the guard spoke. “You lost you’re voice, huh? From screaming too loud. Real dumb thing to do. Shouldn’t have screamed so loud, dummy.” Poor guy was still delusional. Though maybe that was for the best if it kept him from going catatonic instead. “Bet you regret that. Not being able to talk must suck real hard.”

It didn’t suck at all actually. Inconvenient at times, sure, but mostly it was a fine way of being. But if there was any way to help the poor guy, Gordon didn’t know how. So he didn’t even bother to look up as he continued his resource gathering.

Once he had everything he could carry of all that was available, he exited, trusting his companion to follow as he’d been doing. This time he fell in step with Gordon. “How long this no voice thing going to last?”

Even if Gordon’s hands weren’t clinging to his newly acquired shotgun, he wouldn’t have bothered with an answer. He didn’t have time to try to figure out how to convey to this guy that he was having a stress-induced delusion of some sort.

“I mean, your hand grew back real fast so why isn’t your voice healing fast too? Doesn’t make sense.”

Gordon kept walking. They had to be near the end of this lab soon. Perhaps he should leave this guy here. It seemed fairly safe.

“You not being able to talk is boring.”

The company was nice though. Gordon had been alone for most of this journey so far with only the occasional companion guided to a hopefully safe spot. So he’d let this guy follow him for a little while longer. He could reset if he had to so he didn’t have to stress too much about preventing anything.

“You’re not even making faces at me anymore. It’s like talking to a wall. … We should go back and find the others. All the way back to the beginning, sounds fun, huh?”

Ah, he had other friends. Or had, they might be dead too. For his sake, hopefully not, Gordon wasn’t going to hold his breath though. He could reset to try to save them but had no idea where or when they might’ve died.

The guard stayed silent for a while, clearly waiting for some kind of response. When he didn’t get one, he dropped back to resume trailing along at his own inconsistent speed once more.

If only Gordon could reset to before the Resonance Cascade. That would save everyone, the only way to do so. He’d already tried though, twice. Presumably it was the cause of his power and thus he couldn’t go back to before it. So with nothing else to do, he just kept going forward.

Up ahead around the next bend the familiar crackle of portals opening was followed by shouts and gunfire. More of the military. Gordon slowed as he reached that corner. Popping the helmet up, he pressed himself to the wall and peeked around.

Ah, the tram platform. The opposite side was where many of the aliens had teleported in. On this side, were the military. They were firing at each other, bullets and lightening streaks ripping across the divide. Good. They’d kill each other and then Gordon would…

The guard had slowed with him but now started around the bend as if unconcerned about the possibility of death. Or maybe his delusion extended into not recognizing this situation as dangerous. Which it was didn’t matter, Gordon grabbed his elbow and pulled him back.

He let out a small sound of surprise. “Hey man, what the…”

Pressing him against the wall, Gordon pressed his other hand over his mouth, cutting him off. Instead of struggling as would’ve been expected, he stuck his tongue out, slipping it between Gordon’s fingers. It looked almost purple in the dim light of hall and was certainly quite long to snake all the way across his palm and between his fingers like that. If it was meant to gross Gordon out into removing his hand, it failed; he couldn’t feel it through the HEV suit’s glove.

He held him there for the few seconds it took for the sounds of violence around the bend to cease. Letting go, Gordon lifted a finger to his lips – the one not covered in the guard’s spit – in a request for silence.

“Why we being sneaky all of the sudden?” He at least had the decency to whisper.

Ignoring him, Gordon peeked back around the corner. … The military side had won, leaving a handful of their number still alive. Pulling back, he crouched down to sit up a trip wire, placed so it shouldn’t be visible until rounding the corner at which point it should be too late to stop running to avoid it. Careful of it, he drew his revolver and leaned back around the corner.

One of the military goons was turned his way and seemed to be heading to guard this direction. He opened his mouth but before he could get a word out, Gordon shot him in the head. Yes! Bullseye! His aim was getting better.

Not waiting for the body to finish dropping to the floor, Gordon jerked back. Hooking his companion by the elbow – he no longer entirely trusted the guy to be keep himself safe – Gordon quickly backpedaled away from the trip mine, angling himself so that he was in front of the guard. They were just barely clear of its blast radius when the military squad rounded the corner and ran right into it, setting it off with a deafening explosion. One goon round the corner a bit late, skidding to a hall at the sight and sound of his companions’ death. Still ready with the revolver, Gordon shot him in the head. He crumpled to the floor, dead.

Other than the ringing in Gordon’s ears silence settled on the gory scene. He stood waiting to see if anyone else would arrive around the corner. … Seemingly his trap had got all of them though.

“Wow,” his companion said, seemingly unbothered by how close he’d just been to an explosion. “You got good at killing stuff.”

It was either get good at killing the military goons or continue to die to them over and over again until he lost whatever was left of his sanity. Even if he’d had a way to convey that thought, he probably wouldn’t have as who could possibly believe that time reset when he died? It sounded like utter nonsense. So he only shrugged his shoulders before unhooking his arm from his companion – perhaps he should try to get his name – before walking forward to look for anything useful among the goons’ remains.

More ammo which was nice. Around the bend, they had had some med-kits that allowed him to top off the suit’s reserve medical gel. He handed one to his companion as well as he’d might’ve been inflicted with hearing damage from the explosion. And maybe it might help with his shock or whatever it was making him act strange.

Not accepting it, he stared at Gordon. “You steal that?” Clearly whatever was wrong with him was affecting his priorities.

Gordon didn’t have time to deal with it, not that he even knew how to. So instead he pressed the med-kit against the guard’s vest and let go, expecting him to catch it. He didn’t, instead letting it fall to the floor in front of him. Whatever. If he didn’t think he needed it, Gordon wasn’t going to make him.

He turned away and started for the tram’s computer system. Even if taking it wasn’t an option, he should be able to figure out where he was and more important where to go to get to the Lambda Lab.

“Off to steal more stuff, huh? Can’t um, can’t let you do that.” The guard followed. He tried to step in front of Gordon before he could reach the tram’s office. A quick left-right juke got Gordon past though.

Inside, the computer was already on, depicting the map of the tram system, spanning almost the whole facility. It was wrong. … Or no, not wrong but mirrored. Not the writing but everything else was. What an odd glitch. Perhaps it was a prank that someone had been trying to pull before hell broke loose. Whatever. It still told Gordon where he was and thus where he had to go in order to reach the Lambda Lab.

As he turned to exit, the guard was blocking his way again. “You’re not supposed to be in here without your passport.” Wow, poor guy must be really going through it to have lost his place in reality so thoroughly.

Gordon patted him tenderly on the shoulder before pushing past him with as little force as he could.

“Hey man, you can’t do that. At least say something, huh? Your voice has got be better by now, right? What the hell man?”

Gordon would have to find somewhere safe to leave this befuddled fellow sometime soon probably. As nice as more permanent company would be it just wasn’t safe with him. The military wanted him specifically after all, and maybe it was just his imagination but the aliens had been appearing right next to him more and more until recently. Whether or not that pattern would resume, if it was even real, remained to be seen. But regardless he wasn’t running away from the danger but instead towards trying to fix it. Having to watch out for his pal who barely even knew what was happening as well as keeping himself alive was a tall order even with his reset ability. For now though, as long as the guy wanted to keep following, Gordon would let him.

***

Barney moved fast. Which made sense, perfectly logical in fact. The faster they moved the sooner they could get out or at least not be so out in the open. But being knocked unconscious didn’t count as sleep, it kind of felt like the opposite actually. Gordon was weary in mind and body, going fast was the last thing he wanted to do.

He wasn’t going to complain… yet. Eventually he would but if he made too much of nuisance of himself Barney might abandon him too. He’d be justified in doing so, wouldn’t he? Gordon would be little to no help in keeping either of them alive. In fact he’d be an active burden. And he’d already been betrayed and abandoned once so what if…

“Yo, clone-Gordon,” Barney said as he stepped into one of the lab. “Looks like some military guys died in here.”

Gordon of course followed him into the room if for no other reason than to stop walking for a little bit. “And that’s relevant to me, why?”

“Guns. Specifically handguns because you only have the one hand.” Barney took one such gun off the nearest corpse. A small pistol but when it came to firearms, size didn’t really matter that much.

“It’s my left though and I’m not left-handed so not exactly helpful. I wouldn’t be able to hit anything.” He’d once had the thought of training himself to be ambidextrous but had only practiced writing with his left hand a grand total of twice before giving up. If only he’d kept with it.

Holding the pistol by the barrel, Barney offered it to him anyway. “Better than just a crowbar though. And if you’re up against a human, all you might need to do is point it and pretend like you can use it and they might back off.”

With a sigh, Gordon took it. It felt weird and wrong in his hand. Though really it was odd that a gun had ever felt natural hold.

“Practice with it a bit, there’s plenty of ammo in this room.”

Gordon couldn’t exactly pretend that arming himself was a bad idea even if it was much harder now. Especially since he’d just been thinking about how much dead weight he was to Barney. So as Barney moved aside, he awkwardly popped up the HEV suit’s helmet to act as ear protection before aiming at the alien corpse in the corner.

He took his time on the shot, lining it up with the head. It was close enough that he would’ve trusted himself to hit if it were his right hand. Before he could hesitate too long he pulled the trigger. … The head didn’t explode – not that they actually did that when shot by normal pistols anyway, movies lied. Instead the bullet went way to the left and too far up. Worse than the first time he’d ever shot a gun.

“You were kinda close… maybe,” Barney said. “I don’t really know what you were aiming for though.”

“The head.”

“Ooh, yeah, uh… I’ve seen worse. Keep trying while I loot the rest of them.” He lightly patted Gordon on the shoulder before moving on to do so.

With nothing else to do, Gordon obeyed. By the time the clip was empty his hand hurt from the recoil but he had hit the corpse in the chest. It would take a lot longer to really get the hang of aiming with his left hand but it was possible. A new problem presented itself though… “I can’t reload it.”

Barney returned to his side to take it from him and reload it for him. “Lucky you got me then. Hopefully you won’t need to use it too often anyway. It’s mostly a just in case thing, you know? Anyway, I’m done here so let’s go.” He handed the gun back. “We should be nearing the end of the lab and then we can get a read on where we are and should go next.”

“Do you think we could walk a bit slower? I’m uh…” He gestured vaguely with his stump. A valid excuse to be exhausted, right?

“Oh uh, yeah, of course.” True to his word, he went a bit slower as he lead the way back out into the hall. Which allowed Gordon to easily fall into pace with him. Which he apparently took as an invitation to chat. “So… you sure you don’t know anything about my buddy Gordon?

“I’m sure.”

Barney nodded as if he’d expected that answer. “I’m sure he’s probably all right. Maybe we’ll even run into him eventually and then we can ask him if he knows he’s been cloned.”

Gordon still didn’t want to believe that but he also still couldn’t come up with anything that would prove even to just himself he wasn’t a clone. But if they were talking about people they knew though… “You know a guy name Benrey? He’s a security guard in the uh… lab I work in. Or at least, he pretends to be one.” The other guard present hadn’t been bothered by Benrey’s presence but maybe he’d been in on the prank.

“Uh, nope. Odd name though. It short for something?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, didn’t ask him.” He’d been a bit too distracted by how annoyed he’d been with Benrey most of the time he’d been around for to even think to ask such a question. “What about Dr. Bubby, you know him?”

“Is there really someone named Dr. … Bubby? No problem if that’s really the guy’s name or whatever, lots of folk got weird names but… Bubby, really?”

“That’s what he said his name was when I asked. What about Tommy uh… actually I don’t think I know his last name.”

“My pal Gordon used to have a cat name Tommie but don’t think I ever knew a person called that.”

Gordon really shouldn’t have expected anything different. Big facility and all. But it would’ve been nice if Barney knew them to make it easier to complain to him about how weird his prior companions were. Though Gordon might fit in with their weirdness more than he’d thought since he was apparently maybe a clone. Speaking of clones though… “What about a Dr. Coomer?”

“Ah! Him I do know. Or I guess ‘know’ isn’t the right word. I heard of him. He’s one of the guys who were involved in that other cloning thing I told you about earlier. I remember ‘cause he’s got a funny name. Some of the uh… other guards used to make some not polite jokes about it. Not me of course. I would never.”

As far as Gordon could tell Barney was telling the truth but what the hell did he knew about reading people? There were more important things to worry about right now anyway. “You mean the clone thing that you said failed?”

“Yep.”

“Well uh… it didn’t fail then. I was traveling with him before this happened,” he indicated his stump, “and we kept running into his clones. He had to kill them because… actually I don’t know why, he just said he had to kill them so I figured he probably had a good reason.” And if clones had a good reason to be killed then their betrayal definitely made sense. Maybe they hadn’t suspected he was one at first so they stuck with him for a while and then felt too bad to kill him themselves once they found out so tried to get the military to do it. But joke’s on them, Gordon was still alive and mostly intact.

Barney shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. They were certainly supposed to be dangerous so killing them if they got out makes sense. I’d heard the guy died to his clones though and after that they got violent towards everyone and had to be put down. But, you know, like most of what anyone hears about what goes on ‘round here, that’s just a rumor. Who knows how much if any of it is actually true, huh?”

“Yeah.” Gordon had certainly heard some weird rumors about stuff that went on around other parts of the facility before. Very little of it was actually allowed to be talked about and thus only of rumors and hearsay went around whenever something big happened. In hindsight maybe he should’ve paid more attention and gotten out of here before such a disaster could occur. It had basically been inevitable with how much fucked up shit supposedly happened in the building, right?

They walked in silence for a while after that. Blessed, sweet silence of people who knew how to shut the fuck up because things were serious. … Except it didn’t feel particularity blessed. After so much chatter for so long, it felt wrong. The weight of the facility seemed to hang heavier over Gordon’s head without the distraction of his prior companions’ antics. He wasn’t going to be the one who talked endlessly though. Doing so would not only make him a hypocrite but also a nuisance.

Eventually, finally, noise came from up ahead, around a bend. Gunfire and shouting. Damn it. More military just what they needed.

By the time they reached it, silence had returned. Clutching his shotgun, Barney peeked around the corner. He pulled back after a few seconds. “Aliens killed a squad of military guys. You stay here, I’ll take them out.”

“Uh… yeah, good idea,” Gordon whispered back even though Barney was already moving again. He sounded like he knew what he was doing though so Gordon was more than happy to stay here and not try to help. Losing a hand, especially one’s dominant hand, was a perfectly valid excuse to do so, right? He’d just get in the way if he tried. No need to feel bad or like a coward or whatever.

More gunfire came from around the corner as well as some alien lightening sounds. Soon after it had that stopped, Barney poked his head back around the corner. “Got ‘em. And we found our way to a tram station. Obviously they don’t work but their computer should have a map of the facility so we can maybe find a way out of here.”

“Uh… great. Let’s go.” He followed Barney around the bend, quickly finding himself in what was indeed a tram station littered with corpses.

The office was on the other side so they had to lower the bridge over the gap, using a lever. Its gears ground against against each other and whirred loudly the whole way down but if anything or anyone heard they didn’t come to investigate. The silence had an ominous vibe after it finally settled but Gordon ignored it as he followed Barney across.

In the office, the computer was already on. Barney stepped to one side of the monitor so Gordon could see it too. On screen was a map of the tram system, spanning almost the entire facility. It was wrong though. … Or no, not wrong. … “It’s mirrored.”

Barney looked up at him. “Huh?”

“The map. It’s mirrored. Like, not the words but everything else is.”

“Uh… the stress must be getting to you pal ‘cause nothing’s odd about the map. Don’t worry, it’s quite the situation we got here so it makes sense, to be a bit out of it.”

“I swear to god if you’re pulling some shit to mess with me I’m gonna… I don’t know. Nothing, I’m gonna do nothing because I can’t do anything. They cut off my fucking hand so I’m useless now. It’s mirrored. The map is mirrored. Don’t lie and say it’s not.”

Barney stared at him in shocked silence for several seconds before turning his attention back on the computer. “Whatever you say pal. The map’s mirrored. I know where we are though. Not too, too far from the old lab with that machine I told you about. It malfunctioned once but it seemed to work just fine for everyone else who used it. So it might be worth it to head down that way and see if we can’t try again. I know you’re a clone but you’re still a scientist, right? So do you thing you might be able to figure out how it works? Enough to operate it anyway.”

Snapping at him had been a mistake. He’d been the most normal person Gordon had interacted with since arriving at work – which, coupled with everything else he’d gone through was why he’d been so ready to snap but that didn’t make it okay. Assuming he’d actually arrived at all. Maybe he thought the map was flipped because he was a clone with nothing but implanted memories and that one had gotten flipped somehow. Or maybe he was just going crazy. Heck, maybe he was dead and this was hell or perhaps purgatory. Before figuring any of that nonsense out though came not dying so…

“Yeah, I’m a scientist. I could probably figure it out.” He put more confidence in his voice than he actually felt. It would depend a lot on what kind of machine it was. But to make up for being rude, he should make himself useful. Plus if it could indeed get them the hell out of here, it’d be worth it to at least try. Let the others continue the journey to the Lambda Lab to fix this, not that he trusted them to be able to. Or heck, didn’t Barney say that that was what the Gordon Freeman he knew intended to do? So it wasn’t something Gordon had to concern himself with anymore… even if it did feel cowardly to just run away especially after he’s the one who caused it. What else could he do though? They’d cut off his hand!

“Great. Let’s go.” Transgression apparently forgotten for now, Barney turned and marched out. Gordon followed. He was apparently the annoying sometimes rude follower now.

~

Next Chapter

[veesdiaries]

𝟔𝟎 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞…

and bum! in a blink of an eye… bye bye 2024, hello 2025! cant believe i'll be putting my christmas decorations back on in a couple of days!

now that time of the year starts when we feel the need to accomplish all the goals we have ignored for the 305 days, and as in every year we end up overwhelmed and disappointed! But all this happens for lack of organization and planning… here i came to give you a few tips to close 2024 with that good feeling of work done!

𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 -

gym/workout - i guess it is a canon event on everyone's lives having as goal: starting gym. Every year is the same thing, empty promises and if you're reading this; this year was nothing different. But you still have time, THOUGH no crazy diets or crazy workout routines, they'll just give you a fast burnout!

So why not start gym or working out 3 times per week? Or maybe pilates every morning? Yoga? There are unlimited options to move your body, you just need to find the perfect for you!

daily shower - never thought i had to say that but… SHOWER DAILY! please, please, please!

the shower trinity - exfoliate, shave, moisturize! exactly on this order ONCE per WEEK!

skincare - we all want a shining skin for the holidays makeups, what better than skincare? but keep it basic! no need of fancy products (unless they work good for you)! the essencial: sunscreen! no matter if isn't sunny, sunscreen is THE product that never MUST be out of your skincare routine!

facial massage - using gua sha or ur own hands, there are some videos on yt! and no, that shit isn't just a lie tiktok invented!

everything shower - once per week give yourself a princess day (mine is every sunday), do your nails, wash your hair, do face masks, exfoliate, shave… everything! usually i do all this on my sunday reset!

𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 -

journaling - putting your feelings out instead of keeping them in until the moment they blow up is the best thing you can do for your mental health! take a moment for yourself, take a breath and start to write all your thoughts, no filters! it can be in your notes app, your diary, a paper you'll burn later… but you owe this to yourself!

find a new hobbie - never too late to find a new passion, you can go trying all of your options until you find the one you most feel comfortable in doing! maybe cooking? or painting?

reading - this one could fit into the category above but i decide to put it apart. If you're like me and made a huge goal of books you wanted to read and haven't even touched a book this year… i feel you! You still have time to start your journey as a reader… maybe 10 minutes per day? Or bolder 5 books until christmas?

meditation - i confess i wasn't going to add it cuz i'm not very fan of it… but i know it is a goal a lot of people have! You can find some good meditation videos on yt or you can simply take a calm moment to take deep breaths and just enjoy forgetting your worries!

law of assumption - i know some people don't believe in it but i couldn't let it out of this list so fuck it! this shit change lives! i recommend SO MUCH for you to do some research about the theme, just stay away from the loa community on tiktok! here on tumblr there is the #loablr

have a to do list - end of the year can be very overwhelming for a lot of factors but mainly cuz you feel there's so much to do but so short time! a to do list can help you to keep track of the most important events (so you won't miss anything) and also give you that feeling of organization!

go on walks - adding this to my mental section cuz i think it fits well here! go on walks either alone or if you have a pet take them with you, walk around the block or go to a square! put your headphones on and enjoy the vibes, it's autumn, maybe the leaves are already orange where you live, weather is colder… romanticize it! evermore season after all lol

girls, for today that's it!! that's all the steps i thought for a good end of year though i might do a second post near december talking about the same thing but in a more reflection way! like goals and feelings!

(need some tips for the autumn fashion season? check this)

welcome november <3

xoxo, V ☆

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

@callernumberthree sorry, it ended up taking a lot longer than expected!

so, for those of you not in the know, it was requested of to make a post about my gravity falls x slay the princess au thing. slay the princess is a good game, you should check it out (though be warned for gore and death and body horror)

anyway, everything’s under the cut!

let’s get the basics out of the way first-

-there are technically two endings that are canonical to this. i don’t know their actual names, but they’re the ones where you become a god and the one where you leave the cabin with the princess

-this au is centered around ford and stan. ford takes the role of the hero, stan takes the role of the princess (this will be explained in just a bit)

-the long quiet and the shifting mound are separate from the stans. this will also be explained in just a bit

-the echo is a shattered splinter of bill, left over from the memory gun. he does not know who he is, nor does he really know who ford or stan is. ford does not recognize him either, because of how fragmented bill is. he wants to kill stan because stan killed him, even if he doesn’t remember it. he knows that there’s something more to the situation (the shifting mound and the long quiet), but he’s really only using it as a motivator for ford

-the voices are technically also fragmented bits of ford. every time he dies, and things reset, it causes another version of him to appear. different timelines, different dimensions, different multiverses, who knows really? all i know is our friend voice of the smitten has been changed. his entire thing is that he is in love with the princess, but that doesn’t work for this au. instead, i think it would be interesting if he’s the only version of ford that can truly recognize stan, aside from the hero. the hero is the true ford, just as the true stan is trapped in the basement

-stan does change with each splitting path, too- or the reflection of him being puppeted by the shifting mound does, anyway

alright! now for the explanations i promised:

why is ford the hero (and the long quiet)?

-voices/multiverse connection

-harassed by manipulative entity that wants him to violence

-‘do this or the world ends’

-the long quiet fits him better in general

why is stan the princess (and the shifting mound)?

-it’s all about perception. stan is very much based around others perception of him. it felt like it fit. he has many masks (and maybe, just maybe, ford can find the true face)

why are the long quiet and the shifting mound separate from the stans?

y’know how possession works? yeah, so it’s sorta like that, but not. the physical bodies belong to the long quiet and shifting mound, they are made of them. and yet, they are ford and stan. ford, the hero, tags along the journey and gives his thoughts and can influence the actions of the body to some extent. stan is the face of the shifting mound, and envelops its personalities. he is not the shifting mound, though, and ford is not the long quiet

this is what it really comes down to- everyone wants different things

the echo, the fragment of bill, wants stan to die. he will do whatever he can to get ford there, even though he has no idea who either of them are

the long quiet and the shifting mound want to reunite, even if takes a while for them to realize that’s what they are and what they want

ford and stan? they just want to stop killing each other, for fucks sake. they’re not even entirely aware of what’s going on, but stan doesn’t like mauling ford and ford doesn’t like stabbing stan

it goes like this: ford awakes on a forest trail on a starry night. he makes his way down the trail, at the persistence of a certain voice, and comes across the shack. inside he finds a knife. in the basement, he finds his brother. in the end, they kill each other, no matter what they choose. it goes like this again and again, until ford and his multitudes are faced with the mirror and discarded upon the long quiet viewing itself in it. it looks like ford. it meets the shifting mound, holding a vessel. it looks like stan

this goes on again and again and again and again and again until everything shatters

ford, the hero, finds himself at the heart of it all. his body, the long quiet, finds itself enveloped in the all encompassing presence of the shifting mound

ford, leaving the knife behind, journeys into the basement and finds stan- the true stan. he offers a hand. his brother takes it. at the same time, the long quiet and the shifting mound join hands and shed their skin, then their muscles, then their nerves, then their blood, then their bones, until nothing remains of what used to be their vessels. they don’t need them anymore. they are everything and nothing. they are all and none

ford leads stan out of the basement, and then out of the shack, and then they are free

[eggrolls-and-fandoms]

Frisk came to the mountain to die.

(They just couldn’t take it anymore, the same way Flowey couldn’t.)

Last second, they didn’t fall into the afterlife - they fell into the Underground. An entirely different world. Do you think they felt fear before they hit the ground? Regret?

(On the verge of oblivion, Flowey was hit with the strongest emotion he’d felt in ages, that deep seated terror. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to die! And he discovered he didn’t have to. He could live forever. Whether he liked it or not.)

(Chara hadn’t come up to the mountain for a very happy reason, either. Their soul laying dormant in a bed of flowers for ages, before a child fell on them that woke them up. Why was it Frisk that woke them up? I think that it was because Frisk was the most similar to them. They’d felt that flash-regret, deep seated terror as they fell - that sudden determination to keep going. That’s what made them latch onto life again. And they helped Frisk get back up.)

Frisk going back to the surface is them returning to their old life. Frisk’s determination to get to the surface again is, I think, them still chasing after suicide. To end their life. But for some reason, they can’t let themself die down here. Even they don’t know quite why. They dodge the attacks, they avoid the danger, and when they can’t… they feel the terror of falling to their death, the determination of I-don’t-want-to-die-not-yet-not-yet-not-like-this-I-don’t-want-to-die, and they come back. Reset, reload. But what else do they have to live for? All the love back home had done was hurt them. Love had been violence and abuse. They are on a journey to die, on their own terms.

(Love. You can accept that it’s nothing but violence and abuse, that there’s nothing worth it in the world, and kill everything. Including all the pieces of your soul that make you alive. Or you can learn, Frisk and Chara can learn, that love can be butterscotch pie and forgiveness and so much more. You can even settle for the middle, Frisk returning to the surface and fighting through it all.)

Frisk’s fight with Asriel is so impactful, because it truly feels like a culmination of a fight they’ve been having with themself, too. He’s everything they thought they knew - it’s kill or be killed, love is violence, it’s not worth it, why not lay down and die and die and die and die? And he’s everything that they’ve learned - it’s kindness, it’s determination to go on, it’s worth it, get up and live and live and live no matter the pain, no matter the death. Love.

Frisk’s journey through the underground, to me, is a beautiful story about them dealing with suicidal thoughts and wanting to live again. Finding a new family, purpose and power, choosing to live time and time again, until they return to a world they’ll never see the same again - from sepia to color, from rain to a sunrise, with all their loved ones at their side. Their true family. Each implication and aspect of it haunts me - LV, Chara, Flowey, you already know it. The fucking player.

This has been floating in my mind for years and I’ve never really known how to properly express it and analyze it. So here. Is this thing on can y’all hear me Frisk’s journey through the underground is them healing and starting to want to live again and Chara cheers them on the whole time with memories of what their father said to them when they were dying. By their own hand, at that. Like do you understand the agony

[l1chtundsch4tten]

The Beginning After the End...

A new journey... Perhaps?

The New Year is always a bit magical, isn’t it? As the clock ticks down on December 31st, there’s this weird feeling in the air—kind of like everything is about to reset. Like hitting the restart button on your phone. You get to say goodbye to whatever happened in the past year and look forward to all the new opportunities, dreams, and even challenges the next one will bring. And honestly? It feels pretty exciting.

I’ve had a pretty memorable Year to say the least, from stressing about school to just chilling at home with family. No matter how you how you look at it, New Year’s is near approaching and well now, its time to appreciate what I've learned, and stepping into the next chapter. Here’s how my experience in 2024 so far has made me even more excited for New Year’s, and what's in store for me in 2025.

The Big Moment

Let’s be real: there’s just something about the moment the clock strikes 12. Suddenly, everyone’s shouting “Happy New Year!” and using their vehicles to honk as loud as possible. It’s like you’re part of this giant global celebration that connects everyone, no matter where they are.

For me, New Year’s Eve has always been a mix of excitement and reflection. One year, I spent it with my family, playing games and trying my best in school. The next, I was at a friend’s house, eating snacks, watching fireworks, and trying not to let the stress of school weigh me down. Both ways were fun in their own way. But what makes the night so special isn’t just the celebration, it’s what comes after: the feeling that a new year is here and with it, endless possibilities.

Looking back...

Before jumping into all the things I want to do in the next year, I usually take a moment to reflect on the year that’s just ended but, i guess i am doing this advanced. Since, 2024 is ending soon and well, yes it has had a mix of ups and downs. There were definitely times when I felt like I wasn’t good enough, or like I wasn’t accomplishing what I wanted. But looking back, I realized how much I actually grew. I handled tough situations better than I thought I would, and I definitely learned a lot from my mistakes.

It wasn’t all bad either. I made new friends, finally started taking my health more seriously, and even got better at managing my time (still a work in progress, though). So when I look back, I think about the things that shaped me—not just the perfect moments, but the messy ones too. All of them contributed to who I am right now.

Resolutions i guess?

Okay, so I’m not always the biggest fan of “New Year’s resolutions.” They often feel like these giant promises we make that we know we’re probably not going to keep. But I do think New Year’s is a good time to set intentions and figure out what I want to focus on in the coming months. Next year (2025), I'm planning to set some big goals like working out more, getting better grades, and being kinder to myself. And, yeah, some of them probably won't exactly stick. But i will try and make some progress (hopefully), and that counts for something.

For 2025, I’m keeping it simple. I want to be more mindful of my mental health and spend more time doing things I enjoy, not just things I feel like I have to do. I also want to learn something new—maybe pick up a new hobby, like drawing or picking up a new instrument. I know, I won’t stick to everything 100%, but I think that’s okay. What matters is that I’m trying, right?

A Fresh Start

The best part about the New Year? It’s like a giant reset button. No matter how the past year went, you get to choose how you move forward. Sure, it can feel a little overwhelming to think about all the things you want to accomplish, but that’s the beauty of it: you get to decide what kind of year it’s going to be. It’s like being handed a blank notebook and a shiny new pen. The pages are all empty, and you get to write whatever you want on them.

For me, New Year’s isn’t just about making big resolutions. It’s more about giving myself permission to try new things, grow as a person, be content with the past, and find peace in not having everything figured out. It’s about embracing the idea that every day is a chance to start over and that's what make's it so refreshing.

My Final Thoughts

As the end of 2024 is right around the corner, I know there are going to be challenges. Life’s not perfect, and not every day will feel like a “new beginning.” But I think the New Year is a good reminder that we have the power to change things up if we want to. We don’t have to wait for the perfect moment or for everything to fall into place. We can start right now, and with the new year, we’re all kind of starting together.

So, here’s to new experiences, growth, and hopefully, a little more happiness in 2025. Whether you’re out celebrating with friends, staying home with family, or just taking a quiet moment to reflect, I really hope this coming New Year's will bring you everything you’re hoping for���and more, and once again

Happy (Advance) New Year!

[alexfierroaf]

You know, the more I think about the finale (which is basically all I’ve been doing since it came out), the more I realize something.

The further and further I got in Miraculous up until this point, the deeper the sense of dread and nihilism I got. Because every time Marinette and/or Adrien made any significant step forward, they were “rewarded” with either a bad end or an undo button. Chat Blanc and Ephemeral are obvious examples, but there have been plenty of others too -- all the times Marinette ~almost~ got to confess to Adrien, their identity reveal in Oblivio, the few moments of happiness Adrien had with his father, etc. Even Kwami’s Choice (one of the very few moments of actual happy plot progression that we get) bends to this rule, because they were so relieved to be free of the Miraculous, but in the end, that freedom was doomed not to last.

It made me more and more anxious the more I watched. I got the feeling that no matter what happened, these kids might never get their happy ending. Even when the series ends (I’m assuming on a positive note, but after this finale nothing can be taken for granted) Marinette will eventually have to pass on her Guardianship, which means she’ll forget everything -- including not only Adrien, also Alya and all the rest of her loved ones that she met after learning about the Miraculous. Her memories (to my understanding) will revert back to what they were at the point just before becoming involved with the Miraculous. Which means her journey of personal growth and working through her trauma will also be reset. Either that or her entire memory is wiped. Neither option is happy. And then of course there’s Adrien, who will have to grieve their past relationship, supposing he’s still alive when she gives up the Miracle Box.

Realizing this made me think: How will they get out of this? How will they ever be okay? Are they just doomed to fail and suffer tragedy on repeat for the rest of their lives?

Yin and Yang. Creation and Destruction. Joy and Grief. They are all natural cycles -- forces that cannot be avoided. And none can exist without the other. 

In season five, we got one of the greatest joys (and steps forward) that we’ve received in the entire show -- Adrienette finally becoming canon. And staying canon, despite steep odds. We also got the single greatest loss in the series to date, and that’s Gabriel succeeding in making his wish. Going out on his own terms, with the knowledge that he got what he wanted. God, it makes me sick.

At first I was shocked. Upset. Disappointed, a little bit. Because of course we all expected something different. Something involving them beating the odds, no matter what.

But this ending....it’s the natural conclusion to the Bad Vibes (TM) I’d been getting from this series for a while now. That sense of hopelessness, of inevitability....All those times I thought to myself, “How are they ever going to break this cycle? What will they be able to do differently that will allow them to win?” The answer was already in front of me. And that answer was: They can’t. Sometimes tragedy is unavoidable. Sometimes, despite all your best efforts (and an absolutely badass performance by Bug Noire) you still lose.

And hasn’t that been the whole point of the series thus far, when you think about it? Making mistakes and knowing how to fix them. The entire setup of akumatized victims is a picture of this. We all have negative emotions, and we all make mistakes. But in the end, they can be fixed, and life moves on. Maribug makes all kinds of mistakes too. Little everyday ones that get episodic focus as well as life changing events like in Risk. She obsesses over her mistakes -- tries so hard to be perfect -- but no matter what she will continue to mess up, and do her best to make it better. 

She’s made a massive mistake this time by choosing to extend an olive branch to Gabriel. The world is forever altered, and it’s unclear if anything can be done to fix it. But just like always, she will do everything in her power to make things right. It’s the natural evolution of a story with this theme, to, after rectifying so many errors, finally come to one which can never be undone. It’s even more dire than loosing the Miraculous last season, since at least those could be reclaimed. But life goes on, regardless of what happens in the past. All Marinette can do is learn from her experiences and do better next time. 

Mistakes are inevitable. Pain and grief are inevitable. But so is growth. So is joy. So is life. 

I predict that the end of Miraculous Ladybug will come when Marinette is finally comfortable with her ability to mess up and recover from it. When she accepts that sometimes bridges need to be burned, and that failure is a part of life. When she’s comfortable enough with herself to admit that, she’ll be ready to take on the new Butterfly holder and, with Adrien by her side this time, finally make a decisive victory. 

Who knows what will happen after the final credits run. How the cycles of Creation and Destruction rear their heads in their lives. But by the time that moment comes, they’ll be prepared to square up and face it head on.

[yoki-doki-then]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Perpetuity

TW - Pet death, 'willfully dying' but happily, Endwalker Ancients stuff

In white robe, an ancient of Etheyris sits, hind on her heels. Beneath her, flowers of fading hues are crushed, the unlucky few to accompany her to the star. She breathes easily, smiling, stroking gently the feline familiar on her lap. The beast struggle to enjoy her company, its own draws of life ragged and cruel.

"There, there," says the ancient. It's a strange term for one with such a youthful mien, so few years to her life compared to the other white-robes. "I'm sorry this form's end is cruel. But it was nice while it lasted, yes? Did you enjoy it?"

The beast cranes its head ever so slightly, looking its master lazily in the eye. That much was a struggle. Though, there was no pain in the effort; that had been blissfully denied. There's love in the gaze the pair share, and the pet nuzzles its head against her belly.

Hey smile lingers, though the upward nudge of her cheeks loosens a millisecond stream down her features. "I'll be right there with you, and when the time comes for us to be born again, we'll find one another. Such is our design. So please, don't worry. Don't fear. It's okay."

A few of her peers had disagreed with the motion of letting her life fade alongside her work. Apparently, it wasn't the first time she'd done this. "Nini," they had pleaded. "It's far too early to go. Linger still. For a day. A week. A month. A year. An eternity." Their words were more passioned and less obvious than that, but that's what she heard. And she did feel for their pain. But a time had come. A time to say goodbye. Better to declare it now than wait until they grew bored of her. Better to dream of the next time they should be so blessed as to cross paths.

"Death is just an end," she says, more to herself than to the beast she makes her magic still. "From an end, a beginning. Everything was once another. The only thing we treasure, really, is consciousness; isn't it?" She feels her pet's final breath against her fingers, and she sighs. "It's that end which we fear. It doesn't really matter what comes after, the idea that this... ends. That is terror. I feel it every time I ponder too deeply. But the truth is, well, eventually, something new will happen, even if we don't remember it.

"When everything dies, when all consciousness fades, no one will remember however millions or billions of years it takes for the next consciousness to form. There will be no record of Etheirys. Maybe another world or two would have happened before a conscious thought begins. No one will know how many times we've reset. All that matters is that something will always exist. And all consciousness will know... is what it knows."

With a final, gentle stroke of her hand, she bids her friend's journey into the lifestream, its body glittering into the raw aetheric makeup of creation. That same hand finds its way to her chest, and weaves its way to her heart.

"Something will live again from me. This version of Ninisina fades tonight. But the next will have only lived because I died."

Expert fingers pluck loose life's hold on her soul. Her body begins to flow shortly after her beloved companion. She looks to the heavens with a smile.

"I hope you live as wonderful a life as I have. May you achieve all you dreamed, as I have. And may you die with love for yourself, as I do."

The ancient's final words carry her away, blown to the hereafter on a divine wind.

[abyssmalice]

[THE FOOL] - Do you consider them naive, or disconnected from the world aronud them? If so, what do they need to step back and reflect on to get them “in the zone”?

the arcana in reverse / Still Accepting :)

In a way, Tonia can be rather naive - but because she has been too connected with the world around her.

In spite of her attempts otherwise, she feels too much for the world around her, the people around her, the things that happen around and to her. She can be easily angered, easily saddened, easily gladdened - she is too sympathetic to everything and everyone, so long as she keeps her heart open to them.

And in the short life she's lived so far, along with a series of unfortunate decisions and coincidences and troublesome fates entwining - having her heart on her sleeve has only scarred it with conflict, doubt and pessimism.

Tonia knows what the world is like too well now; the world is nothing near the fanciful fairytales that her family told her at bedtime - the world is not actually one where heroes will vanquish all evil and save everyone, where paupers can become princesses, where the virtue of kindness is preached and practiced without falter. In fact, "reality" is the opposite of all this; there are no such things as heroes, not every evil can be completely defeated, the unfortunate will remain unfortunate, and kindness—like any intangible ideal—can and will be discarded if it gets in the way.

And because she is too sympathetic, Tonia has wondered - why must this be the case at all?

Why do people exalt their greed and selfishness to hurt others, to keep them downtrodden and caged? What delight do people find in being so malicious to others? How could they allow their ambitions to be so strong, so blinding, so full of ego to the point that they throw away everything else for the sake of it - to be willing to become evil itself, if it means obtaining their goals?

Why must one be evil to save the world?

Because, she has been told, over and over and over - there is no other option left. There is no choice, not a better one.

And everyone aims to choose the best choice that they can perceive. Even if it comes with some detriments, in the face of even worse avenues, one must compromise. Compromise is utterly inevitable in a world like this. So move the goal posts, lower your standards, and compromise as to reach the "best" choice available.

But is this really the best choice, Tonia still had to ask.

The answer she received then was a mix of responses. Some believe it still is. Some fell silent from thought and a lack of words to offer her. Some simply sighed and explained what a sunk cost fallacy is to her.

But in the end, this remains a way to save the world. This is one of many possible choices, a choice to make the world a better and more beautiful place. Even if the journey is long and fraught, even if the sacrifices are large and irredeemable - the end will still be worth the means, Tonia.

So my hurt is worth the end?

Tonia knows what the world is like too well now; it is a world full of greys and blacks, full of people hoping to paint the world white like their pure dreams. But because the world is so dark, the people can only use the darkness to achieve that pure white, snow-white dream. No one dreams of painting the world white using white paint itself.

At best, they seem to think the world will only become brighter shades of grey, never pure white. At worst, they can't even comprehend the idea of using white paint at all - that color doesn't exist to them, and the pure white dream is either not their real goal or they're not looking to paint over the colored canvas, but instead wipe away whatever was already painted on it. A pure white, empty blankness, as if to remove everything, goodness and karma and sin, and henceforth redeem the world back onto the right, good path by resetting it to zero.

And what about my suffering? Everything I've been through? Everything I've seen and done?

It doesn't matter whether people think they need to wipe the slate clean, or need to stoop to heinous methods with the meaningless justification that it will never happen again eventually. Even if she were to entertain the ideology of the people around her, the end is not in sight, not to her - and what is the point of all these means without the end?

There is no point in evil and malice and pain. It doesn't matter how prettily it's dressed up. It doesn't matter how cruelly it behaves. There is no fundamental point to it.

But that's not how reality works at the end of the day, now does it?

Good and evil don't matter when there are plans to execute and missions to commit to. Even if these plans are meant to be in fulfillment of either "good" or "evil" or even something else altogether in the first place...

It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. Not to you.

A soldier doesn't question orders. Even if you're a child, Tonia - at the end of the day, you're not the one rolling the dice. You're not even the one holding it, nor the cards that will decide the world's future.

At best, she's just one of the cards themselves. A mere piece to play on the gameboard. Weapon and tool and one of the many means being used to reach that elusive, unseen end that everyone preaches about.

You don't have the right to debate the morality and worth of the game unless you're a player above the gameboard itself - and Tonia is decidedly not one of them. Nor does she even want to be, not really.

But that doesn't mean she wants to be tossed around the gambling table mindlessly. She doesn't want to act unfeelingly, simply accepting commands and thinking nothing of what she's doing. She never wants to fall to the level of genuinely believing that the ends justify the means or that everything will magically become happily ever after anyway, because the former is meaningless and the latter is just untrue.

As it turns out, it's easy to be cruel. As it turns out, it's hard to be kind. And at this point, all she would like is for the world to be a kind and good place.

In that case... from her small position in the greater scope of everything, she will just have to rebel as much as she can. She will have to be cruel sometimes, for she has no other option, as everyone says - but otherwise, she will try not to contribute at all. At other times, she will try to choose kindness, and where she can't regardless, she will just have to remember, remind, burn the fact that this is horrible, plain and simple, and nothing will ever change or alleviate it.

How very naive of her, yes. But if the world was good and kind from the start, it wouldn't have come to this, so it's not her fault she has to misbehave so often nowadays, yeah?

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Here's a random sneak peek of book 2 for you:

There's a thing people say. You've probably heard it countless times.

"You don't truly appreciate what you have until it's gone."

It's true. It's such a cliche thing to say, but it's true. I should know.

Hell, I have known. My entire life has pretty much been a masterclass in this concept. Gaining things, losing things, and constant regret and despair at the idea that you can never get said things back.

That's the thing about life. Everything about it is completely irreversible. It just keeps going forward. You can't turn the clock back, undo or reset. Get a second chance at anything. Not until we finally invent time travel, anyway. You are stuck having to do everything right in the moment, whether you know what the "right" thing is or not, because you'll never get that moment back. Just moving forward in this chaotic ongoing journey... until the journey inevitably comes to an end.

All that to say... I really should know better by now. And yet, here I am. Making all the same mistakes as I usually do.

He's gone. We're done.

On the one hand, I can't believe it's actually over now. After everything we've been through together...

But on the other hand, I'm almost surprised it didn't happen sooner.

We had a talk. I said some things. He said some things back.

I say "some." I actually mean "tons." He had a lot to say. Many, many words, mainly harshly cutting ones. I won't repeat those words here; they're painful to even think about. And I probably deserved them, but still...

Now, he's gone. I haven't heard from him since he left, and it seems like neither has anyone else.

I didn't know how good he was until he left. How good he was for me.

I always knew I loved him. I always knew that he was the right choice. I needed him. But I didn't realise just how much until now.

He's gone, and it's all my fault. Everyone else thinks so, at least, and they have all gone out of their way to make their feelings on the matter perfectly clear to me.

I agree with them. I can't blame others for my own terrible choices. I honestly have nobody to blame but me.

From the beginning, I knew that it was wrong. It just felt like the only way at the ti

No. No more excuses. That's why you are where you are.

I've just got to deal with the fact that everything is ruined now... I ruined everything.

And it'll probably take a long time for things to go back to some degree of normal.

Like forever.

___

Kind of sad, I know. But it's important plotwise.

So much happens in this sequel, guys. It's way darker, suspenseful and dramatic lol. But there's plenty of nice stuff, too. Don't worry :)

Guess whose diary entry this belongs to!

[starry-blue-echoes]

Now that you finished Stone Ocean i can finally tell you some of my ideas!

Let's start with something simple but that can give a bunch of angst: ✨️time travel✨️

How the time travel happens we can just say is something raleted to the whole reset thing, but WHO is the big question

My first two options were Jolyne and Emporio but never could choose between them, so if you want it can be both :D

How far back they go it's kinda obvious, Jolyne first day in prison

What they are going to change? Will they tell the others about it? If both came back will they know?

Now the rest is up to you :D

Time travel fixits are genuinely one of my favorite au things to do so this is RIGHT UP MY ALLEY

But to add an extra spark of chaos…… what if everyone in the main Stone Ocean Gang gets time travelled EXCEPT Emporio, and none of them realize the others have time travelled either (at least at first)

so all of them have all the knowledge of the entire journey(sans Foof), their learned skills with their own Stands and knowledge of enemy ones, how to escape the prison, what events they need to avoid, everything……. except for how to actually beat Pucci. Hell, they might not even know Pucci had been beaten the first time because none of them would know what Emporio did

Starting off when they first wake up, Jolyne and Hermes would have things mostly the same, just with the benefit of their added skill. They absolutely try befriending each other again, and are so happy that it works not knowing it’s because they’re both looking to rekindle that friendship. Foo ends up spending a couple days/weeks just sitting there, vibing in the swamp formulating as many plans as they can and making as many shrimp as possible to increase their power while they wait for Jolyne and Hermes to show up. Anasui is trying to meet Jolyne earlier (and when Foo does join he’s actually nicer to them because ✨guilt✨)

Weather though…… he’s going to be interesting. Specifically in how we could go about his memory. And sure we could just have it so he remembers his life before because he got his disc back in the old timeline…… but I had a weird possible idea that may or may not work

What if Weather doesn’t have those memories specifically. He knows that he got them back, remembers the unrelenting loathing and hatred, how it was all consuming and filled his mind in a wrathful rage, how Pucci needed to suffer, to die, for what he had done, how that urge was so strong it didn’t matter who was hurt along the way to get that revenge……. but he just can’t remember the memories themself

after all, White Snake doesn't put some kind of mental block over the memories, it physically removes them from that person’s body and soul. And in this time, they’ve still be removed.

and this would probably scare him. What could have possibly happened in his life that he would go that far? What unforgivable act had Pucci done to push him to those limits? That anger, that pure murderous intent, the way it clung to his mind like a fog, not allowing any thought or compassion……. it’s absolutely terrifying and leaves him torn between wanting his memories back so he could understand what drove him to such lengths and wanting to be as far away from his memories as physically possible out of the terror that they’ll drive him to that brink again

(and of course the whole time this is going on, Emporio is just. Sitting there, mildly anxious because Weather and Anasui are acting weird but he doesn’t want to ask because that might be rude)

[non-binaryandbisexual]

I've been thinking about this scene, and I think I finally understand charas role in the metanarrative of undertale

It's no surprise that chara and the player are connected. This is evident by a lot of things, but I think one of the biggest is actually before you play the game.

That being this screen, the game gives to you to name the fallen human

The game gives you the decision to name them and as we all know, by the end of the pacifist route, Frisk is not the fallen human the game is referring to here and is instead the human we control in the story of this game

What the game is referring to as the fallen human is, of course, chara, and this isn't just important because of charas role in the story and how frisk needed to be acknowledged as not the same person at the end of the game,

but also how the game uses them to talk to the player

The way they do this is by having the fallen human/chara be YOUR character that the story refers to and flowey speaks to at the end of neutral/pacifist route, and who helps frisk throughout the game. That's how strong that connection I mentioned is.

Now, this isn't to say that chara and the player are the same person because they aren't or that frisk is the same as chara or the player either.

Just that chara is alongside frisk and even speaks to them with genocide through narration and that routes ending.

The choices the players are given in the game are also frisks because that's who the player is controlling in the story.

Speaking of that ending

Now, unlike what I thought of before, I don't think this is chara LITERALLY speaking to the player, more so the game using them to speak to us in a metanarrative sense and they're just speaking to frisk.

I don't think there's a single moment in this game where the characters know the player exists and directly talk to them.

But you know who DOES know we exist outside of the world of undertale, the game itself.

I already talked about this with the fallen human themselves, but what's important to note is that the only time the connection I mentioned is not there is the genocide route

This is because of what sans says in the judgment hall

The more you kill, the more you distance yourself, the more you killed, the easier it was for chara to become strong and independent to the point where when we killed the final monster, flowey, the game decides to literally separate us from chara and have them stare and talk to us through frisk, unlike the other endings where it was flowey speaking to us through chara

Chara, in that scene, describes themselves as a demon and with your/frisks guidance, that because of the choices you made, that frisk also makes in the game itself, you both have "helped" them see the purpose of their reincarnation, to destroy absolutely everything leading them to erase everything no matter what choice you make

And when you want to go back to the game/world you destroyed, chara wants you to sell frisks' soul, which causes them to be soulless by the end of the pacifist route, essentially making that entire journey feel hollow because it ends in frisk killing their entire freinds which is the games way of also giving YOU consequence for making frisk do that route

The true ending, however, is flowey telling us everyone is living their lives, and the character the game has represented us has the chance to move and not have to worry anymore.

This is the games way of telling us that we don't have to play this game anymore and move on to something else

Unless, of course, you decide not to and reset all of your/charas' hard work all because you want to see what happens next

Anyway

This was just my interpretation of how undertale handles chara and their involvement in both the story and metanarrative and how the game uses that character to judge how you approach its mechanics and choices it gives you

If you did read this, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed