#the second that agatha keeps killing so shes seeking death out

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

thinking abt at what point it became a pursuit, started it feeling like agatha had become the prey they maybe used to hunt together

because on day one after nicky dies she kills four witches. thats basically texting, right. i doubt she'd give up on pleading, threatening, begging, bribing and bargaining just because nicky is not alive anymore. even if death means gone is gone and even if theyve talked function and philosophy before and even if agatha understood exactly what it means for rio, that doesnt mean she'd accept it. brought you dinner, babe, give me back my son. and rio would say she cant.

"you gave him six years, just give him another" "hes dead, it only goes one way" "it was one day" "it's always one day" "this isnt fair" "since when does that play a part of any of our affairs" "he doesnt deserve this" "nobody does" "i dont deserve this" "i gave you time" "not enough!" "will it be enough tomorrow? will he deserve it tomorrow?" "you give him another day tomorrow" "i cant" "why not" "hes gone" "well get him back" "thats not how it works and you know that" "it works how we say it works" and rio just shakes her head "then why did he live" "because you wanted him to" "then why did he die" "because everything must" "not. him." "any mother wants her son to live" "im not any mother" "no, youre not"

and then agatha, out of patience, full of grief, and fizzing with fresh power, just blasts her, and the conversation ends with this new turn in their relationship; rio lying between the bodies like just another witch.

and then maybe rio said "i'll come for you too" and meant it as a comforting promise, maybe she only got up silently, opened her arms and offered a hug, and agatha panicked and ran.

killing 4-5 witches at a time, thats flirting, feed your kid and have some free time afterwards. killing hundreds at a time, thats keeping the death on your trail busy for long enough to disappear again.

[gavillain]

Oh. That was. Hmmm. Lots to discuss and theorize for in Agatha All Along Episode 5! Spoilers AHOY!

So after last episode was about the Coven all coming together at the height of unity, this trial basically took a SLEDGEHAMMER to all of that camaraderie and good feeling with a healthy dose of shit going BAD.

So, before we get into the meat, I thought the opening with the broomsticks was really cool. I liked the ritual they came up with to enchant it, and I liked how the Coven duos paired off with Agatha and Rio as one pair, Lilia and Jen as another, and Alice and Teen as the final one. I really feel like after this episode, it showcases how the coven stacks up in terms of morality - Teen and Alice are the heroic good witches who are sort of the new generation of witches but who are in way over their heads, Lilia and Jen are experienced and are kind of apathetic to the fates of others, and then Agatha and Rio are the crazy kind of evil ones who can't be trusted. And those tiers get REALLY delineated really fast this episode.

We also got confirmation that the Salem Seven are the children of Agatha's former coven. I had my money on them literally BEING her former coven, but the fact that they're connected as the vengeance seeking next generation is a really cool direction too. They had a delicious creepy vibe this episode, and the way they seemed to follow the same path that Rio did into the Road was a nice touch of continuity. I was reminded a lot of the Nazgul with them, which I enjoyed. I DO hope we'll get more of a personality from at least one of them before all is said and done, but as is, I enjoy the threat they pose.

Agatha's test was this episode with the Coven having to use a Ouija board to commune with the dead. They definitely had me going there with Agatha doing a Sharon impression there for a minute, but of course, she was only faking it. The actual spirit claimed to be "Death" (earning an ironic laugh from Rio who we know IS actually Death) and wanted to "Punish Agatha." But we find out from Teen solving the Ouija board at the last minute that the spirit was Nick Scratch, Agatha's son. What I'm not sure about, however, is if the "Punish Agatha" spirit masquerading as "Death" was Nick Scratch or if it was Evanora Harkness, who possesses Agatha. If I'm understanding the rules correctly, Agatha was possessed by her mother's spirit because she let go of the planchette, which means that Evanora's presence was a result of the ritual being interrupted, and Nick Scratch was the actual spirit they were communing with. But Evanora's whole motivation IS punishing Agatha, so maybe she WAS the first spirit and then Nick Scratch is a second spirit who manifests afterwards. It wasn't really clear, and I wish they'd have been more direct... Then again, maybe that's just another part of the mystery that's still yet to be revealed? I'm not sure.

Anyways, we have two interesting bits with Evanora and Nicholas: 1. Rio was READY to punish and/or kill Agatha before she found out Evanora was trying to keep Agatha there. Rio has a VERY clear dislike for Agatha's mother, and given that Evanora believes Agatha was "born bad" and laments not drowning her own daughter when she was born, it's pretty clear that Evanora wasn't really a good person in life. I wonder if Rio and Evanora had some history too, though? It kind of seems like that animosity was more than just about protecting Agatha.

2. Nicholas was a spirit and called out in a child's voice, so that seems to suggest that he IS very most definitely dead. I've been riding the theory train that he's alive and was going to be our twist Big Bad at the end of the Road behind the Salem Seven, echoing his role in the comics. However, that seems to now be disproven. They keep bringing him back up, though, so I feel like he's got to be more than just a backstory, right? Like, there's something MORE going on here than just a reveal of what Agatha really did to him. I feel like something about him is going to come back into play in the present day. So we'll see what more we learn as the story goes on.

And then... *sigh* RIP Alice, I will miss you terribly. Look, I'm VERY sad about Alice, and I know a lot of people are probably brandishing their pitchforks towards the show for killing her off and doing so in this manner. I get that, but I DO actually think this was the correct route for the show. I think what the show has done a really great job of letting the audience forget so far is that Agatha, though she's a complex character, is also a VILLAIN in this universe. She's a self serving bad guy, and she brought the whole coven together for the sole purpose of trying to antagonize them into letting her steal their powers. Eventually it was going to happen to one of them - the show basically outright told us that from the beginning. And there was no one else it could really BE at this stage other than Alice. Poor Alice's story wrapped up very neatly last episode, and she was the only one aside from Teen who is noble enough and inexperienced enough to do it in an attempt to save Agatha. I'm sure some people are going to feel very hurt and betrayed by that moment because Alice is so lovable, but that's, imo, a good thing. The show WANTS us to feel hurt and betrayed like Teen does over Alice's death, and that was certainly accomplished. And, no, I don't believe for a second that Agatha did it on accident either.

And then shit starts to REALLY hit the fan when Agatha tells Teen, "You're just like your mother." And HOLY SHIT. SHE KNOWS. SHE KNOWWWS. AND I KNOW SHE KNOWS. AGATHA KNOWS HE'S WANDA'S SON. What I'm curious to know is if she knew all along or if she figured it out since the previous episode after Rio revealed he wasn't Nicholas. Her demeanor towards Teen really seemed to change in this episode, so I'm inclined to think the latter. But I think it's VERY safe to say that we know for a fact he's Billy Kaplan at this point if we didn't already, especially with the blue version of the Scarlet Witch tiara that appears on his head after he knocks Agatha, Lilia, and Jen into the mud. So now it's time to find out HOW he's Billy. I'm excited to find out!

Oh, and also worth noting, Rio didn't leave the trial with the rest of the Coven, and she didn't get sucked into the mud like the other three ladies. Curious where she's going to go and when she'll manifest again next. It looks like next episode is probably the one where Agatha, Lilia, and Jen have to roleplay as pop culture witches, so she probably isn't part of that. We'll have to wait and see! But damn, I need the next episode NOW XDD

Closing thoughts: ALICE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[witchkillr]

A LOOSE TIMELINE OF EVENTS, or: how agat.ha hark.ness became arguably the most wanted witch in western history. this timeline is heavily headcanon-based and does not adhere to aaa especially strictly, though that is its primary influence.

1675-1693. the harkness baby is born cursed, or so her mother says. she is a strange child from her first moments. she never cries, never, and develops into an insatiable hunger for knowledge that eclipses all else: friendship, community, caring. this is due in part to her strange and dangerous power, which she seeks to control and which, when it manifests, becomes a lightning rod for her mother's abuse and neglect. it is otherwise, quite simply, in her nature.

in 1693, she is put on trial before her coven for the crimes of stealing "knowledge beyond her age and station" and "practicing dark magick". they attack her, she siphons them to death and in so doing, attracts the attention of "rio", whose identity she won't discern until later.

for the next 60 years, she runs a variety of cons across new england. in that time, the salem seven grow up and come looking, leaving agatha to a nomadic lifestyle that suits her snake oil saleswoman persona just fine, actually. she continues to run into (and slowly fall in love with) rio consistently.

eventually she runs out of towns to flee to that a. don't see her as a fraud and b. won't attract the attention of the seven, so she bargains her way aboard a trade vessel, billing herself as a protection witch who can ensure clear skies and safe passage.

1753-1796 are spent becoming one of the more infamous lady pirates in history. she has a myth to rival blackbeard's, and not only makes a killing in gold, but in knowledge, too - she captures witches in transit, tortures them for information, and steals all the interesting books from aristocratic vessels for herself, leaving piles of bodies for her beloved to enjoy.

this pattern grows boring after a time, and so she settles in the english countryside with her newfound wealth, eventually coming to own a sizeable estate in london (~1813). having just turned the corner on her second century, she still appears young enough to be bombarded with countless questions as to her marriage prospects. at rio's sultry suggestion, she puts a viscount under her spell, marries him, and kills him within the year.

the widow harkness makes a series of wise investments, here, that will pay dividends well into her future.

it is the second husband's suspiciously tragic death (~1840) that renders mayfair inhospitable for agatha. having heard whispers of a witching settlement on the american frontier, she and rio settle awhile in the forests of colorado.

nicholas is born in 1856, at which point agatha's relationship with rio becomes irrevocably strained, but she keeps that from their son as best she can, moving properly into new salem with him.

agatha loses her son, (effectively) divorces her wife and acquires the darkhold in 1862. in her rage and grief, she razes new salem to the ground (but allows the children to go free - this is a mistake she will make over and over again) and goes looking for the next place to assimilate into.

that place is new orleans, where she promptly starts up a deeply homoerotic feud with marie laveau while she dedicates herself to studying the darkhold. the family will hate her for generations to come, despite her enduring fondness for zoe.

the titanic and hindenburg are rituals, designed to unlock the full potential of the book of the damned. the fact that her ex-wife is drawn to both tragedies is an unfortunate side effect. in between the two, she spends some time doing silent films.

she spends the 1940s in nyc, working on and off as a consultant for the us army thanks to peggy carter's recruitment efforts. (yes, that is code for "they fucked nasty", thank you to that one poster for putting it so eloquently)

the most important thing about the 1950s for agatha is her car, and an unfortunate run-in with the sorcerer supreme in tibet.

for the next twenty years, she's really into the music scene. dolly parton, then lorna wu. only one of those seductions was successful. bet you can't guess which.

it's about here that she becomes a two time poker world champion, gambling a select portion of her vast fortune and cheating only a little.

yes, she is a card-carrying member of dykes on bikes. yes, she does have a harley hotrod with purple flames on the sides.

it's pretty much the usual scum and villainy until the snap. agatha does not blip. she is a cockroach. she doesn't know whether it was pure luck, the darkhold, or rio looking out for her somewhere, but she spends those four years taking advantage of desperate, lonely witches looking to use the road to get their loved ones back.

enter wanda maximoff. the rest, as they say, is history.

[mementomori-demimonde]

Reasons why I started to distrust Mambo Marie LeFleur:

Since I’m obsessed with CAOS, I begged my gf @rumpel8​ to watch it a second (actually third or fourth) time with me. We both ship MadamSpellman and although I liked Mambo Marie in the beginning, she hates - hates - her guts (because she gets to be canon with Zelda and Lilith doesn’t), so gf was trying to find anything to make MM look bad, even claiming she was secretly a villain. I laughed, at first, but now I think my gf was right all along.

But let’s start from the beginning:

Mambo Marie is a voodoo witch, and as Zelda says, she’s a Catholic, which means she should be enemies with satanic witches like Prudence, Ambrose and Zelda (and the Coven).

In New Orleans, she helped Prudence and Ambrose with Blackwood, but what if she did that only to gain their trust?

Mambo Marie arrives when the Cover summons the hedge witches and immediately sides with Zelda.

Of course, Zelda is grateful for her assistance. But how did she arrive since she’s not one of the hedge witches? Prudence invited her, but she laters admits she does not know her true intentions.

Hence, what are those reasons and, most of all, what are “her ways?” Zelda is visibly uncomfortable and she gets really upset when she sees Marie performing one of her rituals. Do we actually know that it’s a protection dance, and not some ceremony to steal every bit of magic that is left for herself? Or enter everyone’s minds? Or something bad at all? Prudence keeps defending her, but since when does she talk voodoo?

While Lilith is rejected after asking for asylum and offering her magic/help to serve the Coven (while still being the idol Zelda is devout to, technically), Mambo Marie is accepted and asked to stay rather quickly. What’s different? Well, Marie touches Zelda’s hand while introducing herself.

But what do we know about physycal contact with ill-intentioned beings?

Yes, Zelda was talking about demoniac possession, but maybe it can be applied to other forms of manipulation too. And then, this.

Sketchy. To do what, cherie? Zelda is enthralled, but what is she’s actually talking about slaughter the entire Coven or enslave them (to get revenge for her ancestors taken away from their home during the slave-trade) or something around those lines?

When Zelda is lying on the table after being operated, and they hear the banshee, Mambo Marie knows the three kids don’t have magic/strenght, but urges them to go check while she tends to Zelda. It doesn’t make sense: in case there’s a peril, being the only one with magic among them, it should be Mambo Marie go check.

That gives her the chance to stay with Zelda for the whole time she’s in Limbo. Who said anything about burning purple candles? Who said anything about Limbo at all? Marie. But who tell us Zelda is really in Limbo and not some dream-like-vision created by Mambo? After all, she touches Zelda (stroking her hair, holding he hand) multiple times, and what could be mistaken for signs of affection, could be easily the ways she’s using to mold Zelda’s vision to her own likings. Edward as Mèt-tèt? Satanic witches don’t get guardian angels no matter how you want to call it, what if it’s Marie posing as Edward (Lilith did that too with Sabrina before the wedding with Blackwood), leading her to see the three stages of the moon? Leading her to Hecate?

Now, let’s talk about Hecate.

Aside from the fact that Zelda has clear loyalty issues (praise Satan, praise Lilith, praise Hecate, praise the guy I saw on my newspaper this morning) it’s very unlikely that a goddess would assist the most devout of satanic witches during her whole life.

So if Zelda’s Limbo is Mambo Marie’s doing, perhaps she is trying to become the most powerfool voodoo witch and is looking for adepts? Maybe wants to submit Zelda’s Coven? After all “she get’s her powers from somewhere else”, what if she’s not even voodoo? Is Hecate Mambo Marie in diguise? Is Hecate bad? Is Mambo Marie bad? After all, she was there during Hilda’s resurrection, right behind Zelda (and kept her eyes close for the majority of time).

And then, the revelation, the actual, verified proof. No theories, no suppositions, just the plain fact: in the last episode, how did Blackwood find the twins?

Blackwood’s only goal is to find the egg since he doesn’t sacrifice anyone like he intended to do in Scotland and he wouldn’t be able to find the twins unless he knew they were at the Spellman’s with the egg. But once there, how did he actually find them, how did he know where to look? I bet a dollhouse wouldn’t be his first choice.

The options are two: • there’s a spell that locates people/your lineage/magical beings wherever they are, even though it’s unlikely the dollhouse wasn’t under any concealing or protective charm • somebody told him

But who? Who knows where the twins are? Presumably all the Spellmans [Zelda, Hilda, Sabrina and Ambrose], Prudence and - drum rolls - Mambo Marie.

The Spellmans would never tell Blackwood about the dollhouse (why would they and how, when?), Prudence could’ve said about her siblings to Agatha and Dorcas, and Agatha could’ve told Blackwood after going insane, but that’s unlikely. This only leaves out... Mambo Marie.

Whether she’s got anything to do with Hecate or not, she’s secretly plotting with Blackwood.

Theory: they met in New Orleans and Prudence and Ambrose didn’t find Mambo Marie’s randomly - either she or Blackwood led them directly into her den. Proof they’re plotting together could be MM possibly faking her own death after Zelda wakes up from Limbo cause we don’t actually see Blackwood kill her and the skeleton could be anyone’s dressed with MM’s clothes.

We don’t know what the plans are, but either way, there’s a fact that leaves little to the imagination: the only one left who knows about the twins is, in fact, Mambo Marie. If we assume they are allies, Mambo Marie told him about the twins hidden inside the dollhouse.

And that explains why Lilith and Mambo Marie share screen time during the fourth season: whether for her own reasons or because she’s Hecate (a new goddess claiming supremacy) or another of Blackwood’s lovers seeking revenge, Mambo Marie is evil, Zelda needs to be saved from her and freed from her charms and the only one who can do it, it’s Lilith.

THOUGHTS AFTER THE CAOS PART 4 TRAILER:

Marie is in the Church but several rows behind. I’m kinda grateful cause Zarie is not my cup of tea. It used to be. But now I’m Madam Spellman (/Zelith) for life!

That’s honestly a suspicious coincidence...

Another suspicious coincidence...

Yep. She’s helping...

I honestly like this black sorority of witch-mortal-voodoo witch... But I still don’t trust her. Marie is deceiving everyone and she is evil .

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

If you had access to the early screening, feel free to roast this post.

[for-dramas-sake]

To Be Dead or Undead, that is the Question

A question put to me got my gears spinning: Wouldn’t Agatha turn undead if she was hung {because she was drained by Dracula}?

I got thinking about how the undead fit in this world of humans and vampires. Vampires are technically undead, but it seems they are on a higher evolution plane. The undead aren't blood suckers. They aren't alive yet they seek death. What are they exactly? How did they come about? 

BTW, I don’t think I have it all worked out because I don’t think the writers worked it out all out. It’s too damn confusing with too many plot holes. I will try to explain my theory as best as I can.

Here is a possibility:

The idea of undead is “still alive after death” so in that regard...

An undead person is NOT dead (duh)! He/she is a person who was drained by a vampire, but instead of their soul leaving their body it stayed. That’s why they demand death! They are rotted beyond help. They should be dead, but they aren’t. Somehow (through vampire magic?) they seem alive, but aren’t dead. 

A vampire is one who is one who died, becomes undead then gains the bloodlust.

Let's look at the facts: 1. Jonathan Harker was drained by Dracula and he was rotting away, a clear sign of dying. 2. Harker's neck was snapped by Dracula and he came back WITH his memory and faculties intact. 3. The villagers in boxes in Dracula's castle were CLEARLY past victims of the Count and undead.

The way I see it is there are two sides for everything. First, there is dead (buried, gone, not coming back) and undead. Second, there is the undead and there are vampires. Third, there are dumb vampires and then there are vampires that can think, rationalize and scheme (the brides vs. Dracula). 

The undead can’t die on their own. Their bodies still exist and somehow their souls are still connected. Why else would they yearn to die? Soulless bodies wouldn’t speak. I think this is another one of Dracula’s sick experiments of playing with the afterlife. He wanted to see if they would live without killing them and put them in boxes. 

In the scene where Harker dies, he asks Dracula if he will be put in a box. Note: This comes AFTER Dracula has established that he will kill Harker! Dracula’s answer:

My question is, which box? Both villagers and brides were put in boxes! So again, this goes back to my theory that Dracula messed with the universe somehow and managed to keep some villagers alive/undead in boxes. 

My theory is Harker was on his way to becoming undead if he was left alone. Agatha made a remark that Harker was "undead but not yet a vampire". 

I think Harker was evolving into a vampire. He had to develop a thirst for blood.

If Agatha had died eventually from Dracula draining her, she would have become undead. If she had been hanged, she would either died or turn into a vampire.

Guys, keep in mind that this is just a theory. I can be totally wrong! Gosh. I hope I’m right. I just hope you enjoyed reading this theory. I’m now going to take some Advil because my head hurts from all of this untangling.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Girl Genius Liveblog #165

UPDATE 165: Hive Queen

Last time Tarvek had gone inside the crashed airship to rescue the documents and files about wasps and the wasp eaters – presumably. While he was successful in this intention, he’s also rescuing a wounded woman, an injured Jager, and like eleven weasels hanging from him. Not what he expected to get but hey, he has the lab stuff too, so it’s all good. Let’s continue!

Apparently Jagermonsters don’t know to read, and this guy here is an exception. His father taught his family how to read because he was into philosophy, and I guess he wanted his son and daughters to be philosophical too. Jagers live for a very long time, don’t they? I suppose...I think Jorgi was his name...Jorgi here comes from times where literacy wasn’t high. He’d prefer Tarvek to keep this as a secret, because literacy gets in the way of smashing and hitting people, I guess?

Well, there are other things to focus on than on Jorgi’s literacy, anyway. Such as...that! That dead weasel.

Ah. So they’re not meant to be able to reproduce? In that case, they’d all be created in this spark’s laboratory. Hm. Well no wonder why this airship’s being destroyed and why Tarvek was so insistent in looking for the documentation. If all that burned away and disappeared, the odds of someone being able to create constructs that could hunt and detect wasps are pretty low. Even if someone did, I doubt they’d as effective as these ones. It’s such a good thing there’s this new variant able to breed, really.

Once they let a handful of weasel kits cling to them for dear life, they once again start going towards the way out. Good thing the fire spreads so slowly! Because that’s still a thing, you know, all that fire and smoke. It sure feels like they have spent quite some time in here by now. Since the exit is so close, and therefore the situation warrants one obstacle or two more because that’s the Foglios’ modus operandi by now, there comes something big and noisy. What is it this time?

Ah. Ah! Well look at that freaky thing! So this is where all the wasps come from? From this...hive queen? That means this thing is smushed inside the big orb of the hive? This is...more biological than I thought a hive would be. And much more mobile, too. Tarvek better have strong legs to carry all that weight while running, because that’s what they’ll have to do now.

So I wasn’t wrong about it not being as mobile as it is. Fine then! Guess the weasels aren’t the only ones with a new type! The Other’s technology keeps outsmarting everyone.

The Foglios dial up the action scene tropes, Tarvek runs through a wall of fire with the hive queen in hot pursuit, until they get out and yell at everyone to go away. The hive queen keeps pursuing them through the streets and forcing them to seek refuge in an alleyway. To fight the hive queen, now that the weasels and the two injured people are more or less safe, Tarvek seems to imagine that bug so much larger than him is a mountain lion, apparently, because his strategy is to shout and tell it to back off. That goes as well as anyone would expect.

You know, I think I have lost count of the amount of times one of the three main characters have been in the brink of death and then something happening/someone arriving and saving their life. Tarvek goes through once another moment like that one, saved by a blast hitting and killing the hive queen. Nice! Any result that ends in that thing being dead is a good result, if you ask me!

The savior is some sort of large contraption with an electric cannon. It can’t be Gil, Gil is currently trapped up there in his own castle. Agatha?

Yep, it’s Agatha. This thing is neat! Chalk another one to the spark’s fun inventions! Also, a bit clever to have an electric device embedded into that large battleax. Gives both a ranged and a close-range attack. What crazed ancestor of yours made this thing, Agatha? It’s not like there’s lack of candidates, yeah? Haha!

Part of the reason why Tarvek isn’t looking so hot right now is because you splattered him full of hive queen blood, Agatha. It doesn’t deter her from getting real close and start babbling nervously, getting redder by the second, trying to say she’s not looking attractive. Tarvek doesn’t care at all, that’s for sure. For him it’s kissing time. Good for him!

The twist is that the electricity here isn’t a metaphor about the intensity of the kiss, it’s actually Gil having arrived and about to blast Tarvek’s head off with his lightning device.

Everyone’s cheering and watching, happy to see Agatha with a promising potential husband. The woman Tarvek rescued will be okay, so will Jorgi, Othar gets punched in the jaw when he comes to tell Tarvek he’s his hapless hero apprentice...all is fine in the world. At least for the next three minutes.

I’d be willing to bet on she taking both, yep. I’m so glad it’s a real possibility, as far as the people in this universe are concerned. I bet there’s a precedent.

Meanwhile, in Castle Wulfenbach, that...that guy’s head in a jar is reading a magazine for dead people and relaxing, when a mysterious person comes to talk to him. The topic is the wasps that control sparks, more concretely what he knows about it.

Aha. So they had advanced much further into this than suspected. The possibility of more than one spark-controlling wasp exists. That explains how both the Baron and Gil can be infected. True, the project was supervised by a man that was in Passholdt...which I’m pretty sure is dead or worse. Wasn’t Passholdt the town Agatha saw during her journey with the circus? No way the person in charge of these wasps is sane and well right now.

Apparently the point of coming to ask questions is to find out if a spark can resist the wasp’s influence, resist the Other’s orders. The head in the jar isn’t very hopeful about that, but it’s just a guess. Maybe they actually could, and they just don’t know. Well that’d be good! Especially for Wulfenbach and his son. I hope they can resist those wasps.

I think I’ll have to stop for now. Thank you for reading!

Next time: in three updates

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 4 Chapter 1

Into the Unknown

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

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

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

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

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

“so I’m a sentry in snowdin forest, right? I sit out there and I watch for humans. it’s kind of boring. fortunately, in the forest, there’s this HUGE locked door. and it’s perfect for practicing knock-knock jokes. so one day, I’m knocking ‘em out, like usual. I knock on the door and say ‘knock knock’. and suddenly, from the other side…I hear a woman’s voice.

“‘who is there?’ so, naturally, I respond. ‘dishes.’ ‘dishes who?’ ‘dishes is a very bad joke.’ Then she just howls with laughter. like it’s the best joke she’s heard in a hundred years. so I keep ‘em coming, and she keeps laughing. she’s the best audience I’ve ever had. then, after a dozen of ‘em, SHE knocks and says ‘Knock knock!’ I say, ‘whos there?’ ‘old lady!’ ‘old lady who?’ ‘Oh! I did not know you could yodel!’

“wow. needless to say, this woman was extremely good. we kept telling each other jokes for hours. eventually, I had to leave. Papyrus gets kind of cranky without his bedtime story. but she told me to come by again, and so I did. then I did again. it’s kind of a thing now.”

The human is still listening, eyes wide and mouth full of burg. Its LV is at 5, meaning it’s still definitely a murderer. But it’s hard to remember that after seeing it pass through the puzzles his bro set up with a smile on its face, watch it engage with them. Watch it Spare.

“one day, though, I notice she wasn’t laughing as much. I asked her what was up. then she told me something strange. ‘if a human ever comes through this door…could you please, please promise me something? watch over them, and protect them, will you not?’ now, I hate making promises. and this woman, I don’t even know her name. but, someone who sincerely loves bad jokes…has an integrity you can’t say no to.”

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He can’t shake the boat in a meaningful way; everything is on a schedule, and nothing he does changes. But he has to know.

“do you get what I’m saying? That promise I made to her…do you know what would have happened if she hadn’t said anything? buddy��

You’d be dead where you stand.”

He didn’t mean to speak so forcefully; slip out of his font and use the tone he uses when he Judges. But the effect is immediate. The human’s eyes widen in fear and it runs still.

In a way, that’s all the answer he needs.

But then it starts crying. The other occupants of Grillby’s start to look at them, and he squirms under the attention. It raises its hands and starts to move them. It’s crude Hands, not helped by how much it’s trembling. He manages to get most of it.

Didn’t mean—accident—thought she would stop—didn’t know—not me—not myself--

How old was this kid anyway? It’s shorter than he is, and that’s saying something. Their hands shake too much and there are bruises on their legs and under their sweater. Old enough to kill? You don’t commit genocide on accident, but if they were half as upset about it then as they were now…

What did they mean by not myself?

I’ll fix, they sign. I’ll go back and save her. I promise.

*RESET

He sees it that time. The world stops. He watches it move backwards, like someone were rewinding a tape.

sans wakes up in his bed, like he always does. Usually, it takes him a long time to gather up the energy to restart the timeline again. He’ll lie in bed until Papyrus wakes him up and demands he go to work, and sometimes after that. This time, however, he jumps out of bed and makes some corrections to his notebook.

don’t trust them

Four are the Stars An Undertale/Gravity Falls crossover By the Poor Sap Advocate

Chapter 1

“How’d you think we ended up down here?” Dipper asked as he looked around.

“We fell, of course,” said Mabel, who was in the middle of making herself a daisy chain out of the more squished golden flowers. She gestured upwards, where just the faintest glint of blue skies and sunlight could be seen.

“Do you remember falling down somewhere?”

“Nope!”

“I don’t remember Gravity Falls having any mountains big enough for…this,” said Dipper.

He tried thinking back to what happened. He remembered Mabel was planning a party for the reopening of the Mystery Shack, they were hanging out in the gift shop…flashes of red and blue…then nothing.

“And how are these flowers growing, anyway? There’s like no sunlight down here!”

Mabel looked back down at her daisy chain in confusion.

“Do you still have your grappling hook?” Dipper asked. “Maybe we can—”

Mabel was in the air before he could even finish that sentence. She loved using the grappling hook, especially when she had a legitimate reason to use it.

Mabel scaled upward towards the highest ridge of the cliff. She grabbed onto the ridge with one hand, then jumped as she tried to grab the ledge above. Her hand stop on the sky. There was a loud booming noise, as though someone has struck a gong. The sky began to ripple like waves in a lake.

Mabel tumbled back down onto the golden flowers.

“MABEL!”

“What was that?” Mabel said as she sat back up, as though nothing had happened. “It feels like I just ran into a wall.”

Dipper’s mind started racing. There was something at the top of the mountain, something not normal. More Gravity Falls weirdness to investigate.

He took another look at Mabel and the distance she fell, and decided he would investigate it once they were looking down at it again.

“There’s a cave this way,” said Dipper. “We can probably hike our way down from here and see if there’s another entrance that’s not blocked by paranormal entities.”

Mabel pulled herself off the ground and dusted herself off.  “You lead the way, bro!”

She had a new sweater on, a blue and violet striped design with a red heart in the middle. And for some reason, it felt very familiar to Dipper.

Frisk found themselves in the woods once again.

It was not the Unknown again, they put together quickly. It felt too…different. In fact, if it weren’t for the heat and the sun above, they could have thought they had made it back to the forests in Snowdin. It felt like magic was in the air.

Another thing different from the Unknown was how quickly they were able to find humans. And how many there were in one place. The sounds of crowds and traffic were audible within seconds, and they wandered towards its source.

It was hard to describe what they found. It was less of a house and more of a hovel.

“Alright, step right this way! The first tour of the new and improved Mystery Shack!”

The Cat wouldn’t be able to find them for a while. They could kill time, at least. Frisk wandered into the group and hid behind legs.

They were actually surprised that they were found so quickly. The Mystery Man leaned close to them, one eye inspecting them closely.

“Don’t think I didn’t see ya sneak in, kid,” he said. “Your parents in this group?”

They shook their head and shrugged.

“You gonna pay your way in yourself?”

They had to dig through their pockets a bit, but they managed to find a gold coin from the Underground and handed it to him. What shock he had that a child was carrying gold wore off on him quickly. He inspected it carefully, even going so far as to biting on it, before deciding he was satisfied and turned back to them.

“I don’t see too many kids with solid gold on them,” said the Mystery Man.

Frisk responded by giving him another gold coin.

“Good answer! Right this way, kid!”

Dipper took a step, and fell through the floor.

This was about the fourth time he had done that, and frankly it stopped being funny after the second. Mabel propped herself up on the pedestal and waited for him to come back.

“Hey, Froggit, you’re looking good today!” She called.

The Froggit in question gave an embarrassed burble, dropped a few gold coins, and hopped on its way.

“Why do they have so many puzzles leading up to their house?” Dipper asked as he emerged from the vent system.

“Maybe it’s a monster thing,” said Mabel. “Did the journal have anything about a kingdom of monsters?”

“Not that I remember,” said Dipper. “I just wish Grunkle Stan had given the journal back before all this happened.”

He took another step, and fell through.

Mabel took a bite out of the spider doughnut.

“Ew…crunchy…”

Dipper tumbled back upstairs.

“No journal’s gonna make you good at puzzles, bro,” said Mabel.

“The answer’s down there,” said Dipper. “I just can’t remember it all the way. Here’s another question: why would monsters have puzzles that are so easy to solve?”

“Maybe they’re just waiting for a stupid enough human to solve them,”

“They wouldn’t be waiting for human down here.”

“Toriel was.”

“And you trust her?”

“What?” Mabel asked. “She’s a delightful goat mother, how suspicious can you be of her?”

“I’m just saying,” said Dipper. “We’re stuck in the land of monsters, you were literally bounced off a shield preventing us from escaping, I almost got killed by a flower, and there’s this nice old goat woman who wants us to be her children.”

“You’re just being over-suspicious. She’s perfectly fine!”

“There is something I must do,” said Toriel. “Please stay here.”

She put her book down and made a beeline for the staircase. Dipper’s blood ran cold.

“…perfectly fine….” Said Mabel.

“We’re going,” said Dipper, already running to catch up with Toriel.

“That was a pretty cool snail fact though!”

It was hard to describe the Mystery Shack. If Frisk had to, they would say it was not worth the 2G. The decorations were fake; some insulting so, and some just insulting. The real mystery of the mystery shack was how readily everyone bought it.

They exited through the gift shop, fitting considering the rest of the tour, bought a map of the area with what gold they had left, and returned to the woods.

They had hiked through the forest long enough that they were decently hidden when it started to get dark. The Mystery Man may have taken their gold, but it was unlikely that anyone else would.

There was still no sign of the Cat.

Once they found a clearing far enough away that they wouldn’t be spotted, they curled in on themselves and fell asleep.

They were only asleep for about an hour when they woke up to the sounds of the Cat’s low growl.

He stood in front of them, ready to pounce. His eyes were focused on the bush in front of him, so much so that Frisk wondered if he could even see them. When they shifted and waved at him, he jumped into the bushes.

A very human-sounding voice screamed out.

It took Frisk a few tries of trying to grab him and pulling his tail to get the Cat to withdraw from the bush. Something was in its mouth. No...someone.  They were humanoid, barely the length of Frisk’s arm. Most of their hair was tucked under a red cone of a hat.

It was some kind of monster, Frisk realized. A gnome, if they had to guess.

Frisk looked to the Cat disapprovingly. The Cat rolled its eyes, but put the gnome down all the same.

The gnome didn’t respond. It ran past before Frisk could ask it any more questions.

The Cat said something, complaining about the gnomes trying to capture him and ride him into battle, but Frisk was only half paying attention. There was magic in these woods.

Author’s Note:

[letterfromtrenwith]

Les trois Français - Ch. 4, 5 & 6

A crime/mystery AU

1793. After returning from the Americas to find only disappointment and heartbreak in Cornwall, Ross Poldark fled the place he once called home. Several years later, he leads a disordered, secretive life as one of London’s infamous Bow Street Runners, losing himself in the city’s murky alleyways and dark criminal workings.

His Aunt Agatha’s declining health finally convinces him to go back to Trenwith, the Poldark family home. There, he finds his cousin Francis, the county’s chief magistrate, embroiled in the perplexing case of the murders of three French emigres. Unable to resist the lure of a mystery, Ross must confront local politics, long-neglected friends, old enemies and lost loves in order to find the truth.

- A clue to the identity of a killer, an unexpected reunion and a surprise visitor complicate the case. 

~

Chapter 4

“How long have the dead Frenchmen been here?” There was an abrupt silence at the breakfast table, and Ross realised that he had spoken the question aloud unprompted. After Francis explained the case to him the day of his arrival, Ross had sworn up and down that he did not want to get involved, that he was only here to see his family. Francis looked unconvinced but apparently accepted it. However, in the intervening two days, Ross had found himself turning the issue over in his mind, leading to Agatha snapping at him more than once for not paying attention to her.

“Come all the way back here just to ignore me!”

Now, he had given himself away and the triumphant smirk Francis failed to hide behind his tea cup was highly irritating. He had been away for over ten years, and somehow his cousin could still read him like a book.

“Changed your mind, cousin?” Ross said nothing, annoyed at having given in. Francis chuckled. “Very well. de Vayssiére arrived in ’91 – he landed at Falmouth. du Pas came to London sometime in the ‘80s, but came down here last year to see if he could find more work – as I’m sure you know, London is overrun with medical men, both genuine and otherwise. d’Aubigné arrived shortly after, also from London.”

“Both from London?”

“I thought the same thing, but there’s no evidence they met in the capital, or knew each other before lodging at Killewarren. They’re from different parts of France, and I can see no other connection.”

“There must be one.”

“Not necessarily. If they were killed by different people, as your friend Dr Enys says.” Ross ignored the stab of guilt the mention of Dwight Enys brought. As a young medic, Dwight had treated Ross in the battlefield hospital in Virginia, turning a potentially disfiguring head wound into a neat scar beside his left eye. They had become good friends thereafter, travelling home to England together before Ross made his first terrible visit to Cornwall.

They were eventually reunited in London – when Ross finally made it there. Dwight had patched him up – and sobered him up. The doctor’s decision to return to his native county after completing his medical studies had come dangerously close to tempting Ross to return also. They promised to keep in touch, but like everyone else Dwight had had to contend with sporadic, abrupt replies. Bar Verity, he was the only one to persist in writing. Ross knew he should visit Dwight – should really have done so already – but the self-recrimination that his reunions with his family had brought was quite enough to be going on with.

“Must we discuss this at breakfast?” Verity’s complaint butted into his thoughts, and Francis tutted.

“Very well, sister, we shall take our discussion elsewhere, since we have a call to pay.” It took a moment for that to register with Ross.

“We do?”

“Yes.”

~

“This is Nampara land, is it not?” Ross frowned as their horses crested the small hillock. They had ridden east from Trenwith, towards the sea.  His memories of his childhood home seemed so far back in time as to be shrouded in mists, but he was sure that he recalled running along these paths with Francis as a boy.

“Yes, it is. We are to visit one of your tenants.”

“Tenants? I have tenants?”

“Well, some income had to be generated for the estate while you were gone. Uncle Joshua left it in my father’s care until you returned, so I had to take it on after his death. I look forward to handing all the papers over to you!” Ross grimaced, reminded of yet another thing he had neglected while burrowing himself into the chaos and filth of London.

They approached a clifftop cottage, a rough-hewn but attractive building that he remembered little of. A gaggle of dirty peasant-children scampered towards them as they tied up their horses. Francis fished in his coat and distributed a few coins into eager little hands.  A moment later, the cottage door opened and a thin, sallow-looking woman emerged. Her clothes were worn and much-mended, hair piled under a grubby cap. Clutching a small package, she made to gather the urchins before coming to a startled stop when she noticed Ross and Francis.

“Oh, sirs – I –“ With a jerky bob, she rushed away, the little ones scampering behind her.

“Do you know that woman?” Ross asked, watching her disappear along the cliff-top.

“Not particularly. I believe her husband is a miner – Drabble, I think?” What business would that woman have with his mysterious tenant, Ross wondered? Who were they coming to see? Francis offered an immediate answer by promptly knocking on the cottage’s oaken door. It opened to reveal a young woman, her face brightening as she saw who called upon her.

“Fr – Oh.” She halted her enthusiastic greeting as she caught sight of Ross. “Sir.”

“D - Miss Carne, this is my cousin, Captain Ross Poldark, lately arrived from London.” She sketched an unpolished but neat curtsey, light catching on her vivid red hair.

“Cap’n. Mr Francis has spoken of ye, Sir.” Her accent was a working-woman’s, but not quite.

“Is that so? I quite thought he had forgotten all about me!” Ross made the jest, although he was somewhat bewildered. Why had Francis brought him to see this girl? His cousin had made out as if they were to meet someone who could help with their solving of the murders.  What could some serving-wench – albeit a seemingly well-kept one – possibly have to do with three aristocratic Frenchmen?

“Cousin Ross means to help me seek out the truth about our unfortunate French guests. I believe you can offer us some aid?”

“Of course, sir. Please…” She stepped aside, and Ross followed Francis inside, still none the wiser as to what they could hope to achieve by coming here. They should be talking to the other French, and checking the woods where d’Aubigné was found, not wasting time!

“Ross? Miss Carne asked if you would like some tea?”

“Oh, er, yes, thank you.” He could at least affect some semblance of manners, not that politeness and decorum had been in the greatest of need these last few years.

“So, what do you have, D – Miss Carne?” Ross came to two simultaneous realisations – this young woman was some sort of informant, and that that was the second time his cousin had almost addressed her by what Ross assumed was her Christian name; and she had made the same mistake in return.

“I’m afraid I cannot help ye with the French doctor, or M. d’Aubigne -” her French pronunciation was surprisingly good “ – but the first man, de Vayssiere, was killed by a navy man.”

“A naval man?”

“Aye, a fight over a card game. John Bligh saw it – ‘is wife told me.”

“Why did Mr Bligh not report it?” She had gone to the stove to tend to her kettle, and Ross saw her brow crease at his question.

“He ‘as ‘is own ‘istory with the law. Like as not constables would ‘ave arrested ‘im for it. Whether they thought he did it or no.” Ross could not exactly argue with that – he had seen plenty of that sort of behaviour from so-called lawmen in his time.

“Would Mr Bligh speak with me? If you assured him that I did not wish to arrest him?” Francis accepted the steaming cup from her hand, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully as she passed another to Ross.

“P’raps.”

“Does he know the naval man? Or can he describe him?”

“Can’t say. But ‘e did tell his wife he saw whole thing clear.”

“And how do you know Mrs Bligh?” Ross took a sip of his tea and balked. “Ugh – what is this?”

“It’s nettle.”

“Miss Carne tends to the health of our district, along with Dr Enys.”

Ross finally took a proper look around the parlour-kitchen of the little cottage – his bemusement at their visit had made him remiss – taking in the haphazard mixture of jars and bottles on the shelves, pots of flowers on the windowsill. This woman was obviously some sort of herbalist  - that explained how she obtained her information; her clients would likely share local scandal and rumour, and be more inclined to speak to her than to a magistrate or a constable. An astute choice of informant on his cousin’s part; Ross was impressed.

In an attempt to be somewhat polite, Ross forced himself to finish the awful tea – which Francis seemed to quite enjoy – and drifted out of the conversation, which moved onto some other apparently routine matters of Francis’ business, and Miss Carne’s, although he did hear her agree to see if Mrs Bligh could persuade her husband to give a statement.

As with every other piece of information so far collected, this one simply added to the pile of questions, assuming that Miss Carne’s information was correct, of course. Who was this Naval officer? Did he kill the others, too? Why?

Actually ‘why’ might be fairly easy – a serving sailor could certainly come up with plenty of reasons to hate the French. But killing in the heat of battle was not the same as cold-blooded murder.

Chapter 5

“You insisted on coming, so you could at least try not to look utterly miserable about it.” At Francis’ admonishment, Ross attempted to school his features into something like a pleasant expression, and Francis chuckled. They were in the great hall at Killewarren, attending Caroline Enys’ soirée. Francis had to admit that he was a touch surprised when he learned that the party had not been cancelled, considering the recent fate of her houseguest.

“We considered calling it off, but thought perhaps it might buoy the mood of the district a little. And if there is some madman hunting the French, show him we are not to be cowed.” Dwight had confided when he visited Agatha a few days ago. Francis certainly appreciated this, and admired it. Of course, as Ross had immediately pointed out, the occasion offered other advantages. All of the French emigres were invited, along with many other important figures in the district. It was an excellent opportunity for observation.

They could certainly do with more information. Demelza had – as she ever did – turned out to be entirely reliable. She had also managed to persuade John Bligh to speak to Francis privately, confirming what his wife had related and managing to give a decent description of the naval officer. William Henshawe, the only useful man Francis had managed to recruit as a constable, had by means of some discreet enquiries, and one or two palms crossed with silver, ascertained the likely identity of this officer as one Second Lieutenant Robert Havering. Said Havering had, three days after stabbing M. de Vayssiere, departed the country on HMS Surprise, and therefore could not have killed the other two Frenchmen.

One down, two to go.

Of course, even discounting de Vayssiere from the equation did not put them much further forward. At Ross’ insistence, they had returned to the woods where d’Aubigné’s body had been found. It was raining on the night of the man’s death, and the woods were a common shortcut for locals and estate staff alike, so what he hoped to find Francis hadn’t known. He hadn’t visited the site himself, but sent two constables to look it over. He’d found himself cursing his useless men once again when Ross alighted upon still evident bloodstains on the fallen leaves.

“Here, look at these footprints.” The marks his cousin pointed at were somewhat blurred by later traffic, but Francis could see that they were deeper than the others surrounding them, and lacked a heel print.

“Someone was running.”

“Two men. You see, these are formal shoes. These here are larger – heavy boots; and they cross the others in some places.”

“So if the first lot are d’Aubigné, then he was pursued by his killer.”

“It would appear so.” With Francis in tow, Ross had followed the trails back to a clearing. This seemed to be where the pursuit began, as the deeper prints disappeared, and were obscured by a great many others, the clearing being the crossing point between three commonly used footpaths. Despite a thorough search, they found only one other thing in the clearing, a rope tied around a tree trunk, the trailing end peculiarly severed.

“It looks new. But does it have anything to do with the murder or not?” Ross had mused, examining the frayed end. They had no idea.

Now, they hoped something useful might be gained by examining the dead men’s countrymen. Subtly, of course.

“Ah! The famous Captain Poldark. How delighted I am to meet you at last!” Caroline approached, resplendent in a pristine white gown under a turquoise robe. She looked much more like her usual self than a few days earlier, and Francis admired her outward strength.

“Ross, my friend Mrs Caroline Enys, you know her husband, I believe.” Dwight had followed her.

“Hello, old friend. I am glad to see you looking well.”

“Considering Dwight mended your face, it seems to me you have been a most neglectful correspondent!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ross shift awkwardly from foot to foot and hoped his cousin would not take Caroline’s words the wrong way. She loved to tease, always without malice, but Ross did not know her as he did.

“Yes, Mrs Enys, I believe I have. I shall beg your husband’s forgiveness forthwith.” It seemed Ross had taken her admonishment in the spirit it was intended, and whatever slight tension there may have been had vanished. Until, that is, the voice of a servant announced the party’s newest arrivals.

“Mr and Mrs George Warleggan!”

Oh no.

~

“You can make a report to the Admiralty, but whether they will take action is another matter.”

“Bligh agreed to speak to me, but I do not think he would agree to appear in court, so I could offer little evidence against the Lieutenant.”

“Well,” George took a thoughtful sip of his wine. “Considering the current conditions at sea, I doubt you could inflict more severe punishment upon him. The Surprise heads for the Southern Americas- dangerous waters, and not merely because of the French.”

“How do you know that?” Francis frowned. He had never known George to be especially interested in military matters, and besides, surely the movements of His Majesty’s fleet were secret?

“Oh, the Admiralty has agreed to share certain information with shipping companies, so far as is necessary to safeguard what trade we are able to conduct. I trust, of course, your own discretion.”

“Oh. Of course.”  

“If you’ll excuse me, I must find Elizabeth. See how much money she has lost us at cards.”

“You mean how much she has enriched you, surely?!” Elizabeth’s skill at cards was significant, and more than a few ladies and gentlemen of the district had emptied their coin purses for her over the years, although she would rarely accept more than a guinea or two.  

“Well,” George replied, amused, “there is always a first time for everything.”

Francis spent the next short while mingling, exchanging general chat with the other guests. It would not do to question anyone too closely, for fear of offending them. Besides, his French was not really up to anything more than small talk. Ross’ was better, so he eventually set off in search of his cousin, catching his voice through a doorway.

“Oh. Good evening.” The odd note in Ross’ voice didn’t register with Francis until he heard the replying voice, at which he darted back out of sight.

“Good evening, Ross.” It was Elizabeth. Francis did not know what to do. He had no especial desire to eavesdrop on what would undoubtedly be a difficult moment. However, he also wondered if it might not be best to stay close by so he could strategically interrupt if necessary. Awkwardly, he lingered as Elizabeth continued. “You look well.”

“As do you Mrs Warleggan.” Francis winced at the slight sneer in Ross’ voice, but Elizabeth either did not notice or elected to ignore it. He suspected the latter – Elizabeth was far from imperceptive.

“I am glad to see you back.”

“Are you?”

“Of course. Why should I not be? I know how your family have missed you. And considering I once believed you dead…”

“You did not seem to mourn me for long.”

“Oh, Ross! Must we do this? After all these years?” Silence. That was something about Ross which had not changed evidently. His sullen stubbornness had always annoyed Francis, and apparently it irritated Elizabeth also, considering her tone as she continued. “I was devastated when I was told you had been killed. But I was barely nineteen years old. What would you have had me do? Spend the rest of my life in mourning? A life of spinsterhood and bitterness? Perhaps you think it wrong of me, but I could not live without love.”

“And you found it with a man you knew I disliked.”

“Forgive me, Ross, but your feelings about him were never mine.”

“Hm. Evidently.”

“Oh, Ross, can we not be friends now? Could we not have been then? So many years have passed. Surely you have not spent them in anger and resentment?” Francis would not be at all surprised if that was exactly what Ross had done. “Besides, we were both so very young when you proposed to me. I was just a girl, and you barely a man. Did you have any real notion of love? I do not believe I did.”

“Hmph.” That was probably as close to an acknowledgement that she was right that Elizabeth would get, and Francis decided now was the appropriate moment. Affecting a casual air, he stepped around the door way.

“Ah, Ross! Elizabeth! Here you are!”

Chapter 6

Ross took a deep breath as he broke the surface of the water, shaking his head to clear his eyes. Pushing wet hair back off his face, he swam further out with a slow stroke. There was still a chill to the water this time of year, but it only added to the sense of refreshment Ross felt. How he had loved sea-bathing as a young man – running down to the beach on bright early mornings to plunge into the clear, cool water. Smooth, wet sand under his feet, fresh salty air in his lungs. The London bath houses he frequented were pleasant enough in their own way but nothing compared to this.

Back here, he realised just how used he had become to the city and its filth and stink. The fresh air of Cornwall was almost overwhelming, along with the open spaces, not to mention the quiet. He sat up at night in his room at Trenwith listening to…nothing. Nothing but the occasional hoot of an owl, and the rustle of the wind through the trees. It was never peaceful in the city – drunks shouting and brawling, prostitutes and pedlars hawking their wares, carts and carriages rattling back and forth at all hours.

He stopped and floated gently on the water for a while. The weather had improved and the sky was clear, a few whisps of cloud drifting gently by. Tiny waves lapped around him as two seagulls wheeled overhead, looking for fish no doubt. His environment may be tranquil, but Ross’ mind was not.

Pretence to indifference had long since been abandoned regarding the murdered Frenchmen. The case had ensnared him and it would not let him go until he had resolved it to his satisfaction. Like a hound at the scent, Blackstone often said, not entirely inaccurately, so much as Ross did not like to admit it. The thought of his colleague, as well as London, niggled him. He had sent a message back to Bow Street , claiming that family matters detained him in Cornwall for longer than he had envisaged. This was not entirely a lie – Agatha’s illness was not improving, and as much as they did not truly wish to acknowledge it, all in the family knew she was fading – but being home had raised some complicated emotions in him.

Seeing Elizabeth had redoubled that. He felt frozen to the spot as she walked down that hallway toward him, radiant in her white gown and golden robe; no longer the girl he remembered, but a beautiful, assured woman. She glowed with health and happiness – her wide, gentle smile and soft, warm eyes had not changed. It was obvious she did not lie when she said she was pleased to see him, but he could tell her feelings for him were not the same as they once were.

As if he had not been a fool to expect them to be. It pained him, but she was right about them. His misery and heartbreak at what he had chosen to regard as her betrayal had consumed him for a long time, but in truth he had not thought of her quite so much for many years. Disappointment and grief had simply been excuses for his shiftless life, something he knew had been slowly dawning on him for a while.

Thinking of Elizabeth brought him back to the case again. After Francis chanced upon them – although Ross suspected not entirely by accident – Ross had taken the opportunity to ask Elizabeth what she knew of the French emigres. Her French had always been excellent, and he had been right to assume that she had therefore spoken with many of them.

“I have not been out much lately,” she had explained – and he had to admit it was still something of a blow to learn that she had five children; he had once upon a time dreamed of what his children with her might look like, although it was rather more that it emphasised once again how long he had been gone.

Dr du Pas had attended on her once or twice during her pregnancy, and she could account for no reason why anyone should wish him ill. M d’Aubigné she had not known especially well, but again had no notion as to a motive for his murder.

“He was a little…grand. Rather pompous, which I imagine came from his time with the royal retinue. I think he rather considered most other people beneath him. “ She pursed her lips in disapproval. “He also spoke very often and very openly of his hatred for the revolutionaries and the French republic. They have their sympathisers in this country, of course, but none that d’Aubigné would have been much in company with.”

Ross was impressed with her frankness, and her thoughtfulness. She had been a great help, too, in speaking to the other emigres. His own French was not bad – better than Francis’ – but Elizabeth’s was flawless.

Not that the other foreigners had actually offered much information – the usual mix of gossip, wild speculation and self-interest which generally greeted any crime, particularly those committed amongst the gentry. Many were genuine in their desire to help, but knew very little. Several had been patients of du Pas, and most knew de Vayssiere as a gambler and womaniser, but both seemed to have been generally well-liked. Elizabeth was also not alone in her assessment of d’Aubigné.

Having encountered quite a few in London, Ross had found French aristocrats rather like English ones – religion and dislike of English food, fashions and customs aside, of course. Those resident in Cornwall were no different – the snobby, gossipy Madame de Voyer;  pretty young Comtesse de la Chatre, who was clearly and understandably very upset about the whole matter; the foppish macaroni M. de Dreux and his sycophantic associate M. Leféron; a wine-soaked priest, Pére Cornet. A M. de Cygne, who had arrived from London only a few weeks previously and therefore knew nothing at all, bothered Ross for some reason. He suspected it was because the man’s rather bulldog-like countenance and gruff manner reminded him of his late Uncle Charles.

Back on the sand at last, he dried himself roughly, pondering the facts. It seemed de Vayssiere’s death was simply a coincidence – a fatal scuffle, like the dozens which happened every night in the city. Ross had examined the unofficial statement taken by Francis from the man Bligh and could find no issue with it. But as he and Francis had discussed over a night cap, identifying de Vayssiere’s killer did not actually help much. There were still two others to find, and not much with which to find them.

~

He was greeted by an enthusiastic Verity upon his return to Trenwith after a leisurely ride along the cliffs. She ushered him into the sitting room to find a tall, handsome young man in naval uniform.

“Ross, this is my step-son, Lieutenant James Blamey. James, my cousin Ross.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir. Step-mama has spoken of you often.” He regarded Verity with obvious affection and it truly pleased Ross to see it. He had been genuinely delighted to learn that Verity had married and had a family of her own, although reading between the lines of her letters had told him it had not been quite straightforward. She had come to Trenwith alone, leaving her family in Falmouth, and he was sure she must be missing them.

“James came to surprise me!” Verity beamed.

“My superiors charged me with a letter to Truro, and were kind enough to allow me a detour.”

He had even been given permission to stay overnight, which struck Ross as unusually generous, but then again he was not a Naval man. Perhaps they were more indulgent masters. James had obviously visited Trenwith before, greeting his step-uncle with fondness when Francis returned from a morning at Grambler. Even Agatha seemed to like the boy, having been helped from her rooms into her chair by the fire in honour of his visit. He let her win several games of cards in a row, delighting the old woman.

Francis retreated to his study to take care of some estate paperwork and so Ross spent an idle afternoon of chat, tea and cards with his relatives, which frankly made him rather discomfited. He was truly happy to see Verity and Agatha so animated, but the pleasant scene was one of many, many things which filled him with guilt over his years of neglect of his family. Furthermore, he had never been at ease with such lack of activity, especially when there were killers to be caught! He would much rather be doing something, but he could not actually think of what to do. With James visiting, he would not get time alone with Francis after dinner. He had been hoping to ask if Francis or his constables had any other informants they could consult.

Agatha dined in her rooms, and Verity excused herself to sit with her before bed shortly after. The two Poldark men were therefore left alone with young James. Ross expected an at least pleasant evening of chat and port, but realised that he might be wrong when he watched how carefully James made sure his step-mother was definitely gone.

“Gentlemen, I must confess that I have not been truthful with you. Nor with my dear step-mama, much to my grief.” He sat in the chair opposite Francis, expression very serious. “I was in fact sent here by my senior officers to speak especially with you both. They considered me best placed for the task, considering my family connection.”

“Forgive me, but you say the Admiralty wishes you to speak with us?” Ross asked.

“Yes. About the matter you are both interested in. The unfortunate Dr du Pas and M. d’Aubigné. We know you have been looking into their deaths, as is your right as Magistrate, of course, Uncle, and only natural considering your occupation, Captain.” It did not surprise Ross that James knew he was a Bow Street man. Even if the fact had not managed to make its way into the news-sheets, the Admiralty were generally well-informed, in his experience.  

“And what of it?” Francis asked, frowning over the rim of his port glass.

“We would like to politely ask you to stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yes. You see, you could well jeopardise some very important work of our own…which I am not at liberty to disclose.” He hurried to anticipate their natural question. Ross frowned, but Francis beat him to his objection.

“Now, see here, James. If your superiors believe that our ‘family connection’ means I will be quite happy for you to just walk in here and tell me how to conduct my business they have got another think coming.  It merely means that whatever objections I have will be rather more polite than otherwise!” James looked utterly taken aback by this response, and Ross was torn between amusement and feeling something quite similar.

“But, Uncle – “

“Don’t ‘But, Uncle –‘ me, young man. I don’t answer to your admirals and commodores, no matter what they might like to think. I act under the same authority as they do – the King’s, and for the same purpose, the security of this Realm. They may fancy their work is of greater import than mine, but if the country is to be overrun with thieves and murderers, what is the point in fighting a war for it?” Ross was once again struck by the change in his cousin – from the nervous, highly-strung young man he remembered, to this confidant, self-assured figure who could have a naval lieutenant squirming in his chair. “So, if your masters want to convince me to stop my investigation into these heinous crimes, they had better be prepared to offer a damn good reason for it.”

“I – “

“Oh, come now, James. You know he is not going to let you wriggle off the hook. And, if your senior officers are as well informed about me as you seem to wish to indicate, they should know full well I’m not to be easily commanded.” Indeed, Ross thought wryly, the Admiralty would not need to look hard to discover that.

“Oh, very well.” James sighed. “We were warned this would not be easy. The fact of the matter is, there is a French spy operating in this district. Reporting upon the movement of ships at port, as well as our civil defences, amongst other things.”

“You have proof of this?” Francis demanded. Ross saw his cousin’s grip on his empty glass tighten. He could understand Francis’ agitation – the idea that an enemy agent operated here without his knowledge had to be a disturbing one.

“Yes. There are things I cannot disclose – on pain of court-martial! – but British agents abroad intercepted messages to the French command containing secret information. One of our people was able to insert themselves into the line of communication, making sure accurate information was not passed on, but allowing us to trace back to the source. However, something of a wall was hit after we found how the messages were taken across the channel.”

“In short, you do not know the identity of the spy.” Ross raised his eyebrows at the young man, who looked abashed.

“No. We believe there is also an intermediary we have not identified. Our agent in the district believes that his group is close to finding them – and we have no reason to doubt that – but we fear that your investigation may cause the spies to flee before they can be apprehended.”

“….Which is why you ask us to cease and desist.”

“Yes. Please.” It was a rather pathetic plea after all that, but James had evidently not been expecting the resistance his uncle was prepared to put up. Francis sighed.

“Very well.” James’ relief was palpable.

“Oh, thank you, Uncle. The Admiralty will be most appreciative of your co-operation. Now, er, perhaps I should retire. I did have a long ride this morning, and I have another tomorrow.”

“James…” Francis called him back as he was about to depart. “Please do not consider any of this personal.”

“I do not, Uncle. I wish that I had not had to bring such things into the family. Good night.” With a sketch of a bow, the young man withdrew. The two Poldark cousins sat in silence for a moment. No doubt, Ross thought, Francis was doing as he was, and absorbing what had just happened. Eventually, Ross voiced his most immediate thought.

“You are going to just give up the search for these murderers?” Francis turned in his chair to look at incredulously.

“What on Earth do you take me for?”  

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[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #128: Bewitched, Bothered, and Dead!

October, 1974

This title bothers me. It teased me with alliteration and then yanked it away. But I don’t think there’s a good B word for dead. All the best dead words start with d.

Alas.

So in this issue: imminent death and relationship drama. Disembodied heads may glare at Wanda as the hairy hands of Necrodamus loom menacingly toward her. But probably not.

So the combined Avengers and Fantastic Four team are returning from the wedding of Quicksilver and Crystal (see my previous two posts, true believers! ‘Nuff said!) when nature suddenly gets mad and lightning bolts try to murder them.

Everyone dodges around trying not to get hit by lightning while Thor tries to use his command of the weather to clear things up. It does not work.

Oh and Mantis somehow manages to get in some passive aggression against Scarlet Witch while dodging lightning.

I had such hopes at the start. That she and Wanda would be besties. But it was not to be.

Anyway, in the midst of all this panicked running around and mad electrons, Agatha Harkness (babysitter for Franklin Richards and also an actual witch) stands calm as lightning bolts nearly but do not hit her and with some waving she makes the storm clear.

She explains that the storm was a mystical attack directed at her and that she was expecting it. She didn’t warn anyone because fuck ‘em.

Agatha Harkness is pretty great.

She was always an interesting part of the Fantastic Four book. That Reed Richards, big science guy, happened to hire a witch to babysit his kid. And that at this point, he just shrugs and accepts that a supernatural nanny is part of his life.

Except not any more. Agatha Harkness quits. Now that Franklin is not in a coma anymore and does not (currently) have world ending powers, Sue should be able to handle her own child.

She’s thinking of moving onto a new charge. Hey, Scarlet Witch. Haven’t you always secretly wished you were a real witch?

Yes. Yes she does.

Reed takes this all in stride and takes off with Sue, Franklin, Ben, Johnny and Medusa (remember, she said she’d stay with Johnny until his feels were feeling better). But as he goes he tells the Avengers that the next superhero wedding should definitely be a nice, quiet city hall ceremony.

Thor doesn’t think that will be any time soon on the Avengers’ account but as they fly off, Ben isn’t so sure. He has seen how Mantis has been eye-banging Vision.

No, no, Johnny corrects. Wanda is the one who loves the Vision. Ben again isn’t so sure but also, its not his problem.

Meanwhile, a creepy guy who is definitely Necrodamus skulks about the alley across from Avengers Mansion. He swears he’ll claim Agatha Harkness’ soul by daybreak and Scarlet Witch’s too, why not?

The book apparently wouldn’t have enough stakes if it was just an old woman’s soul on the line.

Off-panel, the Avengers were apparently super okay that a witch would be living with them from now on. These are the people that got pissy that Janet’s chauffeur was inside the Mansion. Guess “previous employer: Fantastic Four” looks super good on a resume. Dang. I wonder if they have any internships.

Anyway, Wanda shows Agatha to one of the guest rooms. Apparently the Yellow Room because it is all yellow and also some green.

Possibly the reason Agatha was so quick to become Wanda’s witch teacher is because her own house was destroyed back in Fantastic Four #134 and a mansion is more witchy than a high-tech skyscraper.

Also, she brought a pet cat. Well. The cat brought itself. Agatha did not have the cat when she arrived at the mansion. Ebony just kind of wandered in.

Witch’s familiar, y’know?

Vision pokes in, asking if he can speak with Wanda. He has hardly had a thing to say to her since their argument in #126 but he wants to reassert how much he loves her.

But before they can talk, Agatha Harkness insists that Wanda cannot leave her side for even a second until the cock crows (do they have roosters in the city?). Also, they have work to do so Vision will have to wait until morning to talk to Wanda.

Wanda reluctantly agrees, sensing the urgency of the orders. And Vision sadly walks away wondering why Wanda chose Agatha’s wishes over his own.

As soon as Vision is gone, Agatha casts probably a spell that seals the guest room off from the rest of the Avengers Mansion. No matter what happens here, everyone outside the room will be completely unaware of it.

Wanda is getting a bit disconcerted but by the raising of Ebony’s hackles, some mystic menace this way comes.

... Okay, that didn’t really work. But cats don’t have thumbs, not really.

And then suddenly Necrodamus is in the room with them.

The wizard announces that he is here to steal Agatha Harkness’ immortal soul to rid himself of his deformed body. And then he recaps Defenders #1-3 but I’ve already covered that. To summarize, he was going to super sacrifice Namor but it didn’t work out.

And then a wizard fight starts and Agatha tells Wanda to avoid the conflict.

Agatha reflects Necrodamus’ enchantment back on him but apparently she activated his trap card because “Tonight, the stars hang cold and pale upon my twisted bones -- their eldritch beams bathe me like love from the mother I never knew -- and this night -- NOW -- I am REBORN!”

And then he gets super swole, like that time he fought the Defenders.

So Agatha makes Ebony super swole or makes him grow into a panther instead of a house cat? A panther is basically a swole cat though.

And Ebony and buff Necrodamus wrestle but Necrodamus just pounds that cat.

The beaten cat shrinks back to cat size.

Wanda asks if she can get involved but Agatha assures Wanda that she totally has the situation handled.

And then Necrodamus knocks her down.

Leaving Wanda the only one standing that can oppose Necrodamus. Because Agatha sealed the room off, she can’t hope the other Avengers will come to save her.

Meanwhile, away from this imminent death, relationship drama.

Swordsman asks to talk with Mantis but she’s getting frustrated by him wanting to talk about their relationship all the time. But -- he feels like she’s avoiding him. Even though they live in the same (huge) house, he never sees her anymore. And he loves her!

But Mantis tells him that she no longer cares for him and walks off.

Poor guy. But he does not handle rejection well, as you might expect of an ex-supervillain.

It doesn’t help that he hasn’t really formed any real connections with the other Avengers. He was too concerned with looking good in their eyes to make up for his past that he hasn’t formed any friendships. He thought the only companion he needed was Mantis but she just dumped him.

So he pulls out his sword starts attacking the air yelling about how he’ll kill her.

Like I said, he is bad at handling rejection.

Thor just knocks the sword from Swordsman’s hand and Iron Man tells him not to say anything he’ll regret later. He also tries to give Swordsman the ‘plenty of fish in the sea’ talk, like seriously, but Swordsman isn’t hearing it.

Swordsman: “Forget ‘women’! I don’t care about ‘women’! I want Mantis! I hate her -- but I love her! God help me, I love her! I LOVE HER!”

Mantis hears all this going on as she walks through the mansion yet ignores it.

Because she has a particular destination that she will not be deterred from. With no hesitation she shows up at Vision’s room and asks to enter.

MEANWHILE, Wanda uses her hex power to make the bedsheets just wrap all around Necrodamus’ face and then tries to judo chop the giant muscle wizard.

Dude just flexes through the linen and backhands her so hard that it nearly breaks her jaw.

So she uses her hex power again to make the bricks from the chimney machine gun pelt Necrodamus in the face.

And then she kicks him, also in the face.

He just throws her into the wall.

It doesn’t usually come up because of how arbitrary her powers are treated but at this point, three hexes are Wanda’s limit because it drains her stamina. Or something.

She uses her third and final power use to smack Necrodamus in the face with a framed portrait. And then collapses from overusing her power.

... Not sure why she thought that would work when bricks didn’t.

Necrodamus isn’t very fazed and recognizes that she’s out of energy. So obviously, gloating time.

He brings out his graven box (where was he keeping it until now?) and explains that when he lifts the lid, Agatha and Wanda’s souls will be imprisoned forever within.

MEANWHILE: back to Mantis and Vision. Vision invites her inside and she tells him that she has a problem and maybe he’s the only Avenger that will be able to comprehend it.

She’s experiencing a sort of identity crisis. She has her clear memories of a childhood on the streets of Vietnam while at the same time there’s evidence of a different her that grew up as a disciple to alien priests.

She fears that she may be a pawn in some great scheme, tutored and then implanted with false memories.

But Vision is as uncertain with his identity as she is. He’s a synthetic man and an imperfect representation of a real one. And he fears that his computer mind is malfunctioning. He can’t give her any advice because he can’t even trust himself.

And then he waxes a little poetic.

Vision: “But I know what it means to be tutored -- or programmed -- and not know why -- so, perhaps, as we each seek our own answers, what one of us learns will be of help to the other.”

Mantis: “Yes, our lives must draw more closely together...”

Meanwhile back at Wanda again. As Necrodamus kneels over Wanda, he doesn’t notice Ebony’s eyes light up with an unearthly glow directed at Wanda.

And this rouses Wanda for whatever reasons and hazily, she forces herself to cast a fourth hex which shatters Necrodamus’ graven box.

And things get a bit hellish.

There’s a angry vortex of screaming spirits and its swirling escape draws away Necrodamus and very nearly Wanda.

Saved only by some big paws clutching at her cape keeping her from being carried away by the maelstrom. And then when the hellnado ends, Wanda falls to her butt.

And sees that Agatha Harkness and Ebony seem just fine. Agatha Harkness is even in ‘hidden lesson’ smirk mode, saying that Wanda now sees what forces true witchcraft controls.

When Wanda confronts her about this being a test, Agatha Harkness says that it was Wanda who overcame Necrodamus by drawing on unconscious reserves of inner strength. How could she have planned such things?

Which seems to amuse Wanda.

MEANWHILE AGAIN AGAIN, Vision and Mantis.

Mantis claims that her empathy with nature made her perceive that Vision was totally well suited for her. But at the time they first met, they were both tied to others.

Others who have since proven quarrelsome or weak. Unworthy of the love Vision or Mantis may bestow.

She wants to share her destiny with Vision and fill those unknown destinies with the passion that only the two of them could have for one another.

Which I think is Mantis talk for saying in a comics code tolerated way that she wants to void his warranty.

Vision tells her not to say such things. He values Mantis as a friend but there can be no more between them. And it is Wanda he loves, no matter how irritable she has been lately.

Marvel comics always tend to be soap opera-y and dang. We’re not quite at peak soap opera - nobody has amnesia or a long lost twin - but its pretty sudsy.

Anyway, this conversation of attempted temptation cannot continue because suddenly a new star flares into blinding existence directly above Avengers Mansion.

All the Avengers (plus Agatha Harkness) head outside to see what’s going on and wonder what it all means.

And before I can start wondering if this means three wise men are going to show up, Kang appears.

The time traveling conqueror who was once defeated by the Teen Brigade reveals that the star is a signal to him that Earth is finally ripe for conquest “at the unyielding hands of KANG, THE CONQUEROR!”

Those other times were just for practice, probably.

Although the real meaning of the star is a bit more complex and stupid than that.

Welcome to the Celestial Madonna Saga. Metaphorically buckle yourself in, it’s going to be quite a thing.

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 2 Chapter 1

Into the Unknown

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

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

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

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

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

Start from beginning / Previous chapter / Next chapter

“WOWIE! YOU DID IT! YOU DIDN'T DO A VIOLENCE! TO BE HONEST, I WAS A LITTLE AFRAID. BUT YOU'RE ALREADY BECOMING A GREAT PERSON! I'M SO PROUD I COULD CRY. WAIT, WASN'T I SUPPOSED TO CAPTURE YOU...WELL FORGET IT! I JUST WANT YOU TO BE THE BEST PERSON YOU COULD BE. SO LET'S LET BYBONES BE BYBONES.”

Their hands are shaking as Papyrus leaves. It's hard to breathe, like she had just gotten out of the fiercest battles. They stand there for a long time after Papyrus leaves but they don't know why. Her knife clatters to the ground.

She doesn't know why she's done anything she has. She shouldn't have spared him. She should have killed him like the rest. In this world, it's kill or be killed. It's hurt or get hurt. She shouldn't have accepted his mercy, because he's going to hurt her just like the others. They all hurt her in the end never let them get close never show them mercy no mercy no mercy no mercy she calls for help

* But nobody came.

They wipe at their eyes, trying to remove tears they aren't crying. More Dust gets in them than before but it's a good feeling. It was just a mistake. They can go back and fix it.

They call for help.

She wonders how much longer they're going to keep this up. It shouldn't be much longer now, she thinks.

The end will be here soon. She will erase this world.

* Reset

Two are the Trees An Undertale/Over the Garden Wall crossover fanfiction By the Poor Sap Advocate

Chapter 1

“Antelope, Guggenheim, Albert, Salami, Giggly, Jumpy, Tom, Thomas, Tambourine, Leg Face McCullen, Artichoke, Penguin, Pete, …Steve…but I think the worst name for this frog is—“

“Wait, wait a second.”

Their surroundings were just becoming clear to him. It was dark, barely bright enough to see his brother in front of him. The only light came from above, and it looked miles away.

“Uh, Greg,” said Wirt. “Where are we?”

“Underground?” Greg offered.

“Weren’t we in the woods a few moments ago?” Wirt asked.

Greg hummed and thought, and turned to his frog for a second opinion. The frog let out a slightly confused croak.

“Nevermind,” said Wirt. “Let’s just…keep going the way we were.”

“I don’t think we can climb that high,” said Greg.

“No, Greg, I meant forward.”

And forward they went. The light in the caves grew as they travelled down the corridor, though Wirt couldn’t figure out why. It was becoming increasingly clear they were somewhere in a cave or underground or both, and the light source above was fading. Wirt could see almost everything in his way now, from the cave walls to the beds of flowers to the…

A golden flower, looking at them with a very confused expression.

“Hello Mr. Flower,” said Greg.

The flower made a face that Wirt couldn’t quite read.

“More of you? Really?” the flower asked. “Alright. Let’s get started then.”

It was dark, wherever Frisk ended up. It was also cold; not quite as cold as Snowdin, but cold enough that they tugged their sweater closer to them. The moon shone above them, so it’s not the Underground, and it was a quarter moon uneclipsed so it wasn’t the Other Toriel’s world.  They are in a forest, so thick with trees that it’s hard to see if there was supposed to be a road. It’s something completely new to them.

Yet they still felt determined.

*File SAVED

They did not know how long they walk in the woods alone. It was hard to measure time when the only repeating pattern is stepping on twigs. Eventually, the repetitive sounds came from something hard smacking against wood. Frisk decided to follow that.

More sounds became audible as they walked closer. Sounds of breaking branches. Sounds of one moving around the ground. Sounds of humming, not so much a song as it was a march. Frisk only got close enough to see something humanoid walking away from the sight, the sounds carrying after them.

“Hey kid? What’re you doing out here?”

That sound came from behind the scene. Frisk had to turn around and crane their neck to see their addresser--a small bluebird perched on one of the higher branches.

“You’re not lost, are ya?” the bluebird asked.

Frisk shrugged. They had no idea where they were supposed to be heading anyway.

The bluebird groaned, and buried her face in her wing. “Well, do you need—?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE?”

Frisk froze at the voice. They stayed frozen as the light shines in their eyes. The bluebird murmured something and flies off but they did not quite hear it over the pounding of their heart. They did not unfreeze until the light of the lantern grew enough that they could make out the holder’s face. Just the woodsman from before. Frisk let themself wave a bit to be friendly.

The woodsman gives them a steady glare. “These woods are no place for a child like you. Don’t you know the Beast is afoot here?”

Flowers did not have faces. Goats were not bipedal and matronly. And there certainly wasn’t an entire society of monsters living under a mountain. Wirt was fairly certain of these things. At least, he had been up until fifteen minutes ago. He concluded that, in order for him to be seeing the flowers with faces and motherly goats, he must either be dreaming or going crazy. Possibly both.

Greg, however, had no problem accepting any of the things in his way. This did not surprise Wirt as much as it should. This whole Ruins area looked like it was something Greg had dreamed up.

This was all Greg’s stupid dream, Wirt decided, and he just had to get him through it.

“Come on Wirt!” said Greg. “They’re not too bad once you get to know them!”

The frog gave a croak in agreement.

“Greg, you just got out of a fight with a carrot!” said Wirt.

“Vegetoid was nice,” said Greg. “I don’t know what he wants me to do with all these vegetables though.”

The frog croaked again. This time Wirt wasn’t sure what it meant.

“It’s still a carrot,” said Wirt. “A-and a monster! You shouldn’t be anywhere near those things.”

“Okay. Why don’t you try then?”

Before Wirt could figure out what Greg meant with that, he found himself being pushed ahead. A Froggit blocked the way.

Wirt tensed up as the battle began and his Soul left his chest. The Froggit unleashed a few bullets that flew around like flies, but otherwise seemed uninterested.

“Pst,” said Greg in a way that was not actually meant to be quiet. “Trying complimenting her!”

It was worth a shot, Wirt decided.

“Listen,” said Wirt. “You look like a frog of decent logic, and we are but two lost souls in the Underground. Would you consider letting us pass?”

The Froggit seemed to think for moment. Wirt was pretty sure it was because it had no idea what he had said. It hopped away, leaving behind two coins.

“Uh, excuse me, you forgot your—“ Wirt started. Greg stepped in and grabbed the coins before he could finish.

“Greg, those aren’t ours,” Said Wirt.

“Sure they are!” said Greg. “It’s just like in a video game when you defeat an enemy!”

“Greg, this isn’t a game!”

“Why can’t it be?”

“Because it’s dangerous down here,” said Wirt.

“All the more reason to think of it like a video game!” said Greg. “Now come on, I think I’ve saved up for the Spider Cider.”

It took the Woodsman a while to figure out Frisk was just a lost kid in the woods. It took him even longer to realize they could not talk to him. It was easy to tell when he did. His tone grew softer, yet it was still full of worry. He asked if they knew where they were going, and when they answered no, offered them a place to stay at his house.

Well, it was not his house. It was the house that he used when he needed a roof over his head while he worked. Before him, the house had not been touched in a long time. Yet it was nice to be in a house Frisk did not recognize, so they ignored the smell of must and feathers.

“You may stay here for the night if you wish,” the Woodsman said. “But beware if you leave in the night. There is a Beast that lurks in these woods. Ever singing his mournful melody in search of lost souls such as yourself.”

Frisk wasn’t very good with words, but they knew what Beast meant. It was something like a monster…a monster! Was there a Monster out here? Could they know how to get back to the Underground?

“I’ve work to attend to in the mill,” the Woodsman said. “Do what you wish. You may find me in there.”

He threw another log on the fire for them, grabbed his lantern and left.

The frog did not have a name. Most frogs don’t, naturally. Names are things given to distinguish between humans. Frogs, especially frogs on the Surface, did not need them.

This frog, on the other hand, was no longer on the Surface. Yet he was still not given a name. Greg had yet to decide on one, and the frog was not in any hurry to have one.

He was quite curious about where he had ended up, however, so while the two brothers negotiated for baked goods at the spider bake sale, the frog decided to explore some more.

There were frogs in the Underground. Not real frogs; frogs of flesh and blood and grew from tadpoles. It was frog that was held together with magic.

“Hello traveler,” said the Froggit. Or, rather, the thing that lived under the Froggit.

The frog croaked a greeting.

“I do not wish to fight you,” said the Froggit. “Nor do I think any of the creatures in the Ruins anymore. You and your humans have been quite kind. However, I wish to ask you a question.

“Before you there was another human in the Underground. They were the first in a long time. They were usually quite kind to us, but something changed the last time they were here. I do not think they were quite themselves. I am not sure if they were safe. Have you any idea where they might have gone?”

The frog did not, and told him as much.

“I see,” said the Froggit. “Thank you. And if I may impart some advice, traveler of the Surface, be cautious of the old queen. She has lost a lot, and she is not always aware that she hurts because she is hurting.”

“Kitty!” Greg called. “Kitty! Now where is that frog named Kitty?”

The frog croaked to grab his attention.

“Oh there you are Kitty!”

Greg ran up and scooped the frog into his kettle.

“Hiya Froggit!” said Greg. “You’re looking fantastic today!”

The Froggit did not understand what he said, but blushed anyway.  They dropped a little more gold than most Froggits do when they left.

Frisk spent the night. They left early in the morning, as the sun was beginning to rise. They did not see the Woodsman again.

They wondered if he ever left the mill after that, if he ever got sleep or if he went back out into the forest. They would have to find a way to thank him later. But most people, they realized, would come back when they needed them.

They stopped thinking as they heard something move in the woods. It was too big to be the bluebird, or even the Cat from the Otherworld. They braced themselves.

The fight started.

The thing that emerged was not a monster, or at least a monster they could recognize. It walked on all fours and towered above Frisk. It looked like a dog, but the way its fur stood up from all sides made the shape hard to distinguish. And its eyes…

The creature attacked first, lunging towards Frisk. They dodged. Their turn opened up, but all Frisk could think to do was compliment their eyes.

The creature was not flattered. It lunged again, swiping at Frisk. They dodged and jumped back. They tumbled in the creek.

The creek was not deep in the slightest. It did not hurt them too much to tumble into it, nor did it take them very long to pull themselves back up. But in the process, they left the fight.

Something else was fighting the creature. Something small and black that crawled over the creature and forced it back into the creek with them.

The creatures tumbled into the creek. A black turtle emerged, followed by a normal-looking dog.

Next out the creek came the Cat. He leaped out of the water in a blur of black. He shook himself dry the same way the dog did, and started to lick the rest of himself clean.

“There are few creatures I like,” said the Cat. “But dogs have a special place in hell for them.”

The dog noticed Frisk for the first time and rushed over. This time, its intentions were far more friendly. Frisk gave it a few decisive pats before it disappeared into the woods once again.

The Cat didn’t speak up until the dog was out of sight. Frisk watched him carefully.

“There are few creatures I like, but perhaps I was too quick to judge you.” said the Cat. “This world is…new, to me. Perhaps I would be willing to walk part of the way with you.”

He avoided making eye contact with Frisk. However, when Frisk extended a hand, he leaned into it and let himself get pat.

Wirt had not really meant to get into Toriel’s bedroom. He was looking for a way out. He had tried to find a way outside of the house, but the Ruins ended with Toriel’s house.

He wondered if that was deliberate.

Toriel’s room was ordinary. It was incredibly well kept, thought that did not surprise Wirt. It had been decorated with bookshelves and typhae, but it all looked so old and out of place that it was hard to believe Toriel put it in.

Wirt looked through everything. Through the sock drawer, the pots of plants, under the mattress.  And he felt bad about it but what else was he supposed to do?

His eyes fell onto the diary on her desk. It was thick and full, but it was already turned today’s date. Something on the page had been circled in bright red ink.

Wirt swallowed as he leaned in closer to read it.

Why did the skeleton need a friend? Because she was feeling bone-ly!

“You know, perhaps I overestimated her abilities.” said Wirt to nobody.

Greg’s calls shook him out of his thoughts. The younger brother rushed into the room, the frog trailing behind him.

“Toriel’s gone!” Greg exclaimed.

“Gone?” said Wirt. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Well, she was sitting in Chariel and I asked her—“

“What, the chair? Why did you name her armchair and not your frog?”

“I didn’t name it!” said Greg. “But I asked her how do we leave the Ruins and she got up and said she had something to do but she’s been gone for five minutes now and I really wanted some of the butts pie!”

Toriel would know how to leave the Ruins. Why would she get so defensive the second Greg asked?

“Come on, we need to go find her.”

Author’s Note: Fall this year lasted about 2 minutes, so I’m really sad I didn’t get to watch Over the Garden Wall. I could watch it now, but it’s like watching Halloweentown during Christmastime; it loses some of the magic. But after this, I feel like I’ve watched it enough.