#it also has a bunch of random doors on the top floor (which is the floor you enter on but as you get further back into the house its like.

[anonymouspuzzler]

finished one of my finals so i decided to celebrate by sketching up some concepts for cal's mind in the Cally O'Pia au!! putting image IDs/descriptions and general elaborating on my Vision(TM) under da cut cause i can tell even before typing it's gonna get long (PSYCHONAUTS 2 & RHOMBUS OF RUIN SPOILERS IN THERE BTW YOU ARE WARNED)

Welcome. Let Me Describe You My Vision. my goal with this was essentially "how do I hit the major plot beats that are necessary for Psychonauts 2's plot to Happen while still incorporating Cal's very different backstory in this AU"; some of this involves functionally combining RoR's and Psychonauts 2's versions of Loboto's mental world. maybe someday I'll go into how I envision RoR changing in this au but whatever right now we're on The Opening of Psychonauts 2 As Played Out In This Verse

first things first Sasha's Psychic Projection has to be completely different given 1) Cally already works for the Psychonauts 2) he knows the other agents very well already and 3) he is a Known Psychic rather than a random feral dentist Morry picked up off the streets. so rather than the "Psychonauts office where Loboto gets employee of the year and has to get his vacation form signed off on" construction, Sasha instead constructs a scenario where Cally is still under his "Dr. Loboto" guise, has captured the other agents, and has to deliver Raz to his boss. unfortunately for Sasha, Cally catches on pretty much right away, plays along for all of five minutes, then drops everyone in a little box to keep them contained while he makes sure all the info on his boss is under mental lock and key. Unlike the ones you see above, Raz's box is kind of plain and nondescript because, unlike all the other agents he's known for years, all Cally knows about Raz is "psychic kid who keeps getting himself in some shit".

because this is, you know, The First Level of the Imaginary Game, this still has to be constructed as a tutorial, too, which you will see as I get into each of these little boxes. Raz's box teaches you to use your standard psi-punches, because it is Hastily and Weakly Put Together, so Raz can literally bust his way out and scamper around looking for the others. Cally, in turn, keeps trying to re-trap Raz as he investigates the next boxes, but with the help of the other agents Raz keeps finding ways to break out and proceed further (though the others remain stuck).

The first one Raz finds is Oleander's, which you can see in the top left of the first pic - the primary theming is Loboto's Lab from the first game and drawing on their time working together there, but the walls are also covered in pictures of Oleander and/or the two of them together, that have all been defaced or scribbled over in some form (since at the time of the game they're very much on the Off side of their On-Off relationship). To get out of the box Oleander re-teaches Raz telekinesis, which allows him to open up the hatch on the upper right of the wall, and then gives Raz a boost out - Coach, of course, isn't able to reach it himself before Cally slams the door behind Raz. You also may notice a hidden room behind one of the pictures - you can only get in there by returning later in the game when you have pyrokinesis, and once you do, you'll find a memory vault about his and Morry's relationship (which i've had concepted out for like a year and WILL draw eventually) and a bunch of photos that haven't been defaced (representing how Cally still has much stronger feelings for Oleander than he's admitted to, and is still carrying a torch even through the surface level of their breakup).

Next comes Sasha (top right picture in the first image), whose room is kind of a combo of his and Otto's labs, with a bunch of the props drawn from both locations - books, papers, inventions, computers, The Lamp, you know how it be. The floor also has a big glass swirl that gives you a peek at Otto's brain storage, which has a bunch of brains tumble by as you're in there (plus the occasional Faberge egg, for Foreshadowing - for even more of that, there's also the brain case on top of Sasha's exam table in the corner). The escape here escalates to a two-step process - Sasha re-teaches Raz psi-blast, the two of you combine forces to pry the door open with TK, and then the chattering teeth start spilling in and Raz has to fight his way out with psi-blast.

Third comes Milla - I swapped her with Lilli compared to the "canon" order first because I misremembered, but then I stuck with it because I felt like it worked better thematically. Anyway, Milla's room (seen bottom left) is a combo of her meditation chamber and Cassie's house back in the gulch, with pillows and tapestries and books everywhere, honeycomb wallpaper, and of course, Bees? Bees! They Have Chosen The Bees. You might notice the big scary beehive from the Forgetful Forest in the middle of the room; the escape here involves Milla re-teaching Raz levitation, the two of them pulling out the beehive with TK, using psi-blast to fend off the subsequent BEES, and then Raz drops in the hole and uses levitation to hover his way to safety. (At this point Cally is like KID C'MON and outright intercepts and dementistrates Milla rather than just keep her trapped.)

Last but hardly least is Lilli; she's in a combo of Truman's office and what she tells Raz looks a lot like her house/apartment - Cally's functionally kind of an uncle to her in this verse, so he's been particularly thoughtful in crafting a comfortable, familiar mind-prison for her. (The Extremely Subtle Foreshadowing also continues here, with envelopes and a hacksaw on the desk, the brain case on the shelf, and of course The Fuckoff Huge Crown Chandelier hanging above the desk.) The other wall has a bunch of family photos of Lilli and Truman, and one big pic of young Cally and Truman in the Gulch; Lilli re-teaches Raz pyro so he can burn that, and Enormous Mental Cally takes this as an opportunity to grab Raz much like in the original game.

Now we're at the point of the second image, and where things particularly divert from the original version of the level in my mind! Big Ol Cally drops Raz in a combat arena and he has to deal with a few waves of Censors and Doubts and Regrets - I haven't decided if this is the first time you encounter true Combat or if you have mini-waves throughout the level like in the "canon" version, but if it is your first combat I like the idea of Lilli being your "mission control" explaining the new enemies an dhow to beat them. Either way, Raz fights a couple waves while trying to convince Cally to give them information, he refuses, and when it looks like Raz is in a real tight spot he manages to dive off the arena deeper into Cally's subconscious.

This is where we start incorporating RoR stuff! Raz drops all the way to the little dollhouse representation of Cal's childhood home, goes in, sees a little Cassie-style paper projection of young Cal and overhears his parents having their Oh What Can We Possibly Do We Can't Handle This Child Anymore conversation. Paper Cal hides in a wardrobe, Raz follows, and this portals into this endless-seeming hospital hallway where dialog plays between li'l Cal and the doctors, revealing to Raz that they were going to lobotomize him for being psychic. (I think maybe you find your first accessible memory vault either here or in the path I talk about in a second; that one goes into how Cal got taken in by the psychic 7 and i also have that one concepted out please god give me time and energy to draw these soon). After this plays there's a cutscene where representations of the psychic 7 tear apart the hallway, and Raz falls into this paper representation of the Gulch. He follows a little path past some simple setpieces of things you'll see later in the game, talks to himself a bit like Wow This Is Just Like True Psychic Tales So Cool That Agent O'Pia Grew Up Here :)

Now this path leads past a little paper version of Lucy's hut (which Raz doesn't recognize for sure, which bugs him), and the path around THAT leads to a big winding path through a parted waterway (which Raz is Very Much Not Happy About, reestablishing the water curse - maybe there's a little cutscene where he sees the hand of Galochio much like in the first game at the beach). Raz nervously walks through, and dialogue plays between Cally and Mysterious Figures revealing Cal got caught undercover and was threatened into assisting with the Kidnap Truman plot (or rather, they threatened Cassie and Lillie and Oleander, which ended up being Much more effective than threatening his own life). At the end of the path Raz finds the base from RoR, and it's in there that he sees "Loboto" talking to the Shadowy Figure similar to canon and 1) learns whoever hired Loboto was a mole, and 2) sees the vision of Maligula when the figure reiterates his threat to Cal-slash-Cal's family. Vision-Maligula destroys the village, Raz snaps back to the real world, and There's Our Game!

if you've read this far you're a hero beyond compare here's the image descriptions for you

[Image 1 ID: Digital sketches of four boxlike rooms. The top left room is labeled "OLEANDER" and incorporates elements from Loboto's Lab in Psychonauts, including the jagged glass window, Mr. Pokeylope's terrarium, and a prototype brain tank sticking out of the floor. There are miscellaneous papers on the floor, and a brain tank blueprint on the wall. Various framed photos of Oleander are also on the wall, most of which have been scribbled over or otherwise defaced. There is a hatch high on one wall, and a secret room with a memory vault behind a pyro-able picture.

The top right room is labeled "SASHA" and resembles a combination of Sasha and Otto's labs, with a large bookshelf making up one wall covered in books, papers and gadgets, floating shelves on the other wall, as well as a desk with office chair, computer monitor and Tiffany lamp. Sasha's examination table is in a far corner, with Truman's brain case on top of it. The floor has a glass swirl revealing brains being transported similar to Otto's brain storage. There is a partially open sliding door on one wall where chattering teeth toys are spilling in.

The bottom left room is labeled "MILLA" and resembles a combination of Milla's meditation chamber and Cassie's home in the Gulch. The walls have a honeycomb pattern wallpaper and string lights, with an eye tapestry hanging on one wall. There are round lantern lights hanging from the ceiling, with bees flying overhead. The floor is a round conversation pit covered in pillows, throw rugs and books; in the center is a massive oozing beehive similar to the one in the Forgetful Forest.

The final, bottom right room is labeled "LILLI" and resembles Truman's office. There is a desk covered in envelopes and a hacksaw, with a desk chair behind it and two 60's style chairs in front. There are two shelves along the wall behind the desk, containing the brain case among other things, and the wall prominently displays the Psychonauts logo. A chandelier resembling the Maliks' crown is hanging from the ceiling above the desk. There is a couch and several plants against the opposite wall, and many family photos of Truman and Lilli on the wall perpendicular, with the largest (pyro-able) one being a picture of young Cally and Truman. End ID.]

[Image 2 ID: Digital sketches of three scenes in Cally's mental world. The first shows Raz (represented by the simple head-and-legs silhouette used in Peter Chan's concepts) diving off a disc-like combat arena (on which are several Censors, Doubts and Regrets) towards the dollhouse representing Cal's childhood home, which is floating in space. The second shows Raz in one of the dollhouse rooms with a paper-projection version of young Cal, with an arrow leading into a wardrobe, which portals into a long hospital hallway with a "NEUROLOGY" sign on the wall, eventually trailing off into nothing. The third shows Raz walking past Lucy's old hut in the Gulch, along a winding path through parted water, and ultimately to the Rhombus of Ruin base. End ID.]

#anonymous puzzler art #anonymous puzzler writes #(there's a lot of words in there it counts) #psychonauts 2 spoilers #rhombus of ruin spoilers #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #if y'all aren't familiar with the au A) there's posts recently in my psychonauts tag B) Inbox Is Open lmao #long post /

[factorialsotherfandoms]

xcom au, nothing especially anything, set in Cellbit's first few days with the group.

Cellbit is sat on the floor of the command room, an old books of crossword puzzles in hand. He has meticulously copied across the chart, not wanting to steal one of the few leisure items from the rest of the crew, and is filling it in. This one comes in French - not a language he knows well, but he is puzzling his way through.

He is just filling in 14A when a vaguely familiar someone ducks down before him. The green jumpsuit tells him little, except that the man isn't wearing it up - no, the sleeves are tied around his waist, the back bunched up, revealing the tank top beneath. For some reason he wears a hat even in here, an emerald hanging off it.

And then, perhaps more obvious, are the great black wings which fold awkwardly behind him. They're hybrid wings, that much Cellbit is sure of, but they do not fold particularly well.

He looks a bit strange.

They're all a bit strange here.

They're all a bit scarred here, too.

"Cellbit, right?" the man perches on the balls of his feet, elbows to his knees and rests his head on his hands.

"Yes?" Cellbit replies. "I'm sorry, I think I forgot you."

"No worries," he's flashed a grin. "You've got a lot of people to keep up to, I bet? I'm Philza. I remember."

Dragged from one matter to another, it takes Cellbit a few moments to put the pieces together. There was definitely gossip about this man, shared in hushed whispers and watching him interact with the others.

Philza Minecraft, Angel of Death, scourge of the Federation. Vanished alongside his partner in crime years ago, becoming little more than a fable.

One living on their ship, trusted to lead and advise though claiming no official role higher than squad captain.

"Angel?" he asks, because how can he not? "Death's Angel."

Philza's smile grows thin, "I swapped my sword for a medkit years ago. You're better off asking one of the others if it's murder you need - Jaiden's pretty hot at it these days."

Jaiden? Cellbit will bare that in mind.

"Sorry," he says, because he knows they all have pasts he would rather not come up - if Brazilian affairs were half as televised as those in English-speaking countries... Well, with Philza's past Cellbit could perhaps be proud, but parts of his own are better left untouched. "Did you need something?"

He's only been here three days; he cannot imagine anyone trusts him with much.

"Kinda," Philza tilts his head to the side a bit, eyes narrowing and looking all the birdier for it. "I'm told you like paperwork? And decoding shit?"

Cellbit blinks - once, twice, and "yes?"

Philza perks up again, "great! Because I've got a weird shit archive dating back about twenty five years that might want someone to look at them. I've been doing my best, but I am a fucking dumbass and cannot make heads or tails of it."

"Archive?" Cellbit can /feel/ his ears perk up at that - his control of the damned things having been lost in years of having them forcibly pinned away. "What sort?"

"Bit of this, bit of that," Philza shrugs. "Copies of mission records, newspaper clippings, shit the Theory Bros were looking into before the war... Weird crap Aypierre and Tubbo are done with, intercepted audio recordings, spy reports, random crap people picked up on missions... Photos. So many photos. Missing persons reports. That sort of stuff."

It sounds like a treasure trove.

It also sounds like it's going to be a nightmare to get into a usable state.

Fuck, if it's just been shoved in a storage room...

"Sure," Cellbit tries to hide both his excitement and his fear both. "I'm not busy."

"Great," Philza hops back onto his feet. "Because I am. I just found a few minutes to show you; Tubbo needs extra hands to test something, you know how it is with engineer types?"

And, yes, Cellbit does.

---

He is led through the ship to a tucked away room, down near the engines. Philza pushes open the door, and shows him inside.

With a flick of the lights... It's not as bad as Cellbit had assumed. Shelves with assorted objects line the left wall, a series of large, metal cupboards beneath them. Everything is fixed into place with metal strips and bolts - even the filing cabinets, all of which also lock. There's a chart on the wall with packs of coloured paper beneath, each colour representing a different research topic.

There are also cotton gloves - proper cotton gloves for working with documents! -

"While I was sorting," Philza says, already moving over to a cabinet. "I found a lot of this shit is related to more than one topic. Couldn't keep it separated by research field like the old archivist had been trying to, just a fucking dumbass idea. So, left to right, oldest to newest. I start filling a new cabinet from the bottom, so it stays better balanced. Anything paper goes in there - the folders are numbered to their order, please put them back right - objects in the shelves. Coloured sticky labels are where I think shit's related, but honestly you'll want to check it."

Cellbit is already peering over Philza shoulder, and into the drawer he opened. It's one of the pre-war old ones - pretty empty, but there's still a few pieces in there.

He grabs a folder and leafs through, marveling at the organisation, and just how well kept the records are - even at twenty four years old, the newspaper clippings are still perfectly legible and the paper at no risk of falling apart.

It's a missing person's report, one marked with the colour-tag as being unresolved. He's not surprised - if it had been it wouldn't be here - but it's not pleasant news.

And, tucked in with it is a series of printed out forum posts, ones discussing the article.

"It's not much," Philza shrugs. "But I try keep it organised, at least. Knew someone would want it some day."

"No, no," Cellbit puts everything back and slowly closes the door. "This is great! I was expecting worse. Can I see that one?"

He points at a random cabinet, somewhere near the middle.

Philza doesn't open it, he grabs a set of keys from one of to desks, and tosses them over.

"These are yours," he says. "So's the desk - mine's over there, though it's mostly used to dump unsorted shit on. Have fun with it all."

"You're leaving?" Cellbit asks. "Me here. With all these records. And the keys. Alone."

"Yeah?" Philza shrugs.

"I've been here three days. How do you just...?"

"Cellbit," Philza says. "Everyone higher than me in this damned organistion trusts you with their lives. Hell, I do too - I know you were feeding us that info. Not everyone does, but..." a shrug "I file the paperwork, you know? Can't solve it, but I can store the damned things. I've seen what you do, Cellbit - you've saved my ass more times than I can count. May as well give you the paperwork, fuck knows I don't know what to do with it."

"I have?" and Cellbit... Cellbit knows his info was good, but to hear it is...

"You sent the Order to Fit," Philza says. "I used my connection to him to get the Order to bail Missa out - my closest friends, I owe you. The warning of the shift in Thin Man biology? Saved our asses on the field. The base locations? The guard rotations? The info on treating laser wounds? There's not a person on this ship who doesn't owe you their life, Cellbit - what the fuck is some paperwork to that?"

"They would have managed," Cellbit says, already unlocking a drawer and flicking though one of the files inside.

This one is much fuller, and he spots photographs - ones taken by Philza, the backs read, showing off the areas where significant things happened.

"But we didn't have to," Philza replies. "Just.. Enjoy yourself, alright? I've left my notes where I could think of something, but I doubt it's worth shit."

"No, no, this is good," he puts the file back and grabs another. "Just needs an index."

"Indexing's all set up on your laptop," Philza taps on it, and only now does Cellbit spot the old piece of tech on the desk. "Tubbo refitted her."

"You indexed this," Cellbit looks at all the shelves, remembers this man leads missions, gives advice on running the Order - hell, he even runs it himself, when the others are indisposed - constantly being asked for aid and giving it... "It must have taken you ages."

"I was sorting through it all anyway, putting it all in date order and tagging the relevant queries and that," Philza shrugs. "Wasn't that much more work. Hour or two here and there over fifteen months or so?"

It's dedication. Cellbit nearly drops a file as the airship moves sharply, and in making sure everything in intact he misses Philza's escape.

Damn it. Well, if he has questions, he can ask later.

The index though...

Cellbit goes to the laptop, pulling it open and waiting for it to boot. There's a couple of things on there - Philza's desk has a full computer and printer, but Cellbit's new laptop has an external hard drive - but he ignores them for opening the index.

He expected just a list of reference numbers and which tags - maybe location, if he was lucky.

Instead.. Full database, all linked up. Reference numbers, tags, and locatgion, yes, but also summaries of the contents, a list of directly related items such as commentaries or other articles about the same event, a column for Philza's notes and one for Cellbit's, the locations of the originals if not stored in the archive...

Cellbit has killed for far, far less than this. And it's just... been handed to him? By someone saying it isn't much?

He doesn't quite get it, but...

He picks a mystery - something small for now. Opens up something to take notes on, and goes to collect the relevant files.

Soon enough he's absorbed so deep that he doesn't even notice Felps not-so-sneaking up behind him until he's already being hugged and told off for missing dinner - for vanishing all over again.

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #i forgot to put this one on the vote list so take it quick-written and take it now lol #there's more of the two of them later in the series if I ever get to writing it #but for now... just this #happy cellbit!!! he's got an archive!!! #even if neither of them think what they did was actually as valuable as it was #cellbit'll work it out. phil... not so much

[thatonehomosexual79]

*comes back from the dead with a new hyper fixation*

so I’ve gotten obsessed with Phighting recently and I bring you MedHammer gay ppl family..:

So you might wonder how the hell this came into existence I’ve been Maining Ban Hammer in Phighting and my friend mains Shuriken so when she pointed out how how Shurikens and Ban Hammers interactions seem kinda father son like so my only thought was to make MedHammer have two 20 year old kids with also Katana Uncle so here’s some HCs for them: also this is kinda au…I guess? Hc? Au? Idk

Ban Hammer and Medkit are both really bad father figures and Ban Hammers recklessness is rubbing off on Shuriken and VineStaff is…a little concered

Medkit has tried (and failed) to heal Vinestaffs like infection thing

Ban Hammers top set eyes are fully grey color blind his bottom haft is not and Shuriken is just red green color blind so everyone else struggles with showing them colors

Katana always finds a way to get back into the house to see Shuriken and Vine staff and no one can find out how he gets through all of a ban hammers house security

The house is very fully protected with a bunch of random security(warden things)

The walls and floors are scratched(Ban Hammer drags his hammer on the floor and Shuriken throws his Shurikens at the walls)

Medkit is the mother(not by choice)

Shuriken makes fun of the fact Medkit is British

After every phigthing match Medkit scolds everyone for getting hurt(including Katana he’s forced to be there)

Medkit also gets angry at people when they bring there weapons to the table or put there elbows on the table

With the Medkit mini game thingy Medkit commonly gets Nightmares and somtimes when he wakes him he screams in fear which wakes up Ban Hammer and he helps medkit calm down but then the scream wakes up Shuriken and he checks to see what’s wrong so he ends up falling asleep in BanHammers and Medkits bed then VineStaff can’t find Shuriken so then she ends up falling asleep in the bed as well and there all Together like a family

also yes this means they all live in the same house(besides Katana he’s lives next door still)

I apologize if there’s any spelling mistakes I’m tried

#phighting! #roblox #medhammer #headcanon #au #shuriken phighting #ban hammer phighting #medkit phighting #vine staff phighting #katana phighting #Family hcs #Etc etc tags

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Random Stuff I noticed in Twilight Princess (Wii), Hyrule Castle Edition

The designs on the doors feature a Triforce on top, but under them you can find an angular pattern that’s a lot closer to Twili stylistics. It’s lowkey giving "showing off their victory over the losers“, which would fit into the whole deal of the Interloper War.

In The Triforce wind puzzle in the left courtyard, two of the triangles are filled with grass, the ones standing for power and wisdom. (Since the Wii version is flipped, that’s the right Triforce here instead of left). Coincidentally, those are also the two Triforce wielders currently in the castle.

Unlike the rest of outside, the hidden graveyard only has very few bulbin structures, all in the front half, no monsters, and only their heads. The front half is also where all the broken or shifted graves and walls are, while the back half of the yard is perfectly intact and you’re greeted by lots of tiny skeletons in the middle. This suggests they clashed in the middle and were defeated by the Undead.

Based on the puzzle in the same area, it’s safe to assume Hyrule Castle utilizes magically induced rain as a defense mechanism.

Despite most of their stated lore being connected to the oocca, the owl statues are explicitly referred to as the "statues of time“ on the grave right next to the one that tells you about the cursed swordsman.

Hyrule castle‘s front door is a fake gate lmao, what are they compensating for. Probably just a design vs gameplay thing but it kinda adds to this somewhat egoistical grandness that this particular Hyrule has going on.

Iirc this and the temple of time are the only two dungeons where you get to shoot the classic "make stuff happen“ crystals, and also the floor buttons are the same in both dungeons, what with the light sage symbol on them, so there’s a neat connection

The left and right side of the castle are color coded! Left‘s got red carpets and wall decor while right got blue

The further you go up the castle, the more the music not only kicks in/becomes louder, but also gets more and more taken over by Ganon‘s theme

In the lower floors that’re still perfectly intact, you can find swords in ridges on the walls as decorations. Starting from floor 3 however, the castle becomes a lot more broken down, and the swords in the ridges are missing. The first room with this change is the one full of ghosts, leading to the thought that they were used by those soldiers as a means to defend themselves (to no avail).

The throne is surrounded by a bunch of tinier thrones (slabs? Idk what they are) with the sages symbols on each one

During the puppet Zelda fight, you can sometimes hear the beginnings of Zelda’s Lullaby sung in the background and melody before it gets drowned out by Ganon again

While Link can‘t interact with the rubble on the round, Beast Ganon can

The key you get from the graveyard is actually optional and lets you either skip the blue side of the castle…or rob Ganondorf‘s treasury empty :)

#legend of Zelda #the legend of Zelda #twilight princess #i Love robbing that room it so silly #dude really stached a welcome packet for Link right in front of his room

[zesty-kuma]

Hi I forgot about you guys! Im back again briefly woho I found my old scetch book from September, so here’s all my scetches that arnt ebarrisingly bad …. So first we have the human vertion of the gang dressed as mkdm characters for Halloween (my favroite part is koros baloons XD) . Next we have some concepts i made for monokumas office in the story got a bunch of plushies featuring koro (because as the time monokuma was a fan of koro sensei and hadn’t met him because koro Sensei was somehow known by monokuma some way or another…) monomi, monokuma and a random frog. Monokuma has red led lights around the celing of the room, he also has post it notes on the walls with a bunch of random stuff writen on them, also pumpkin spice candles (it’s a reference to one of the chapters) he also had a rug on the floor that says “live laugh love or something ;) “ then you have another angle to the room with teh fish byakuya gave him in that one chapter and the ice cream tower from that one chapter and a door mat that says “home is where the hoola hoop is” idk why…. There’s a koro poster and a… a difernt type of poster… then you have on a table a bunch of CDs the one on the top is zootopia XD . Next we have a new face?!?! This is the girl I hinted to before if i can remember . Basicaly she’s the antagonist villan in the sequel to the byakuya story which comes before keeping up with teh kumas . Next you have a monokuma in danagnronpa style . Next you have drunk monokuma being supported by monomi who at this point of the story is still a rabbit .id show you the whole photo but … I can’t it’s not like there’s anything down there.. but let’s just not okay 😗… you don’t understand the context of the scene becaue it’s once again a part of the byakuya sotry . Also the art is scary it’s very old . The sign behind monokuma says “do not disturb currently doin ur mom” . Then you have a pen sketch of byakuya and monokuma both taken from a comic type thing i drew it’s all a SpongeBob refrence. Id show you the whole thing but the koro i Drew is scary . Then you have some byakuya and monomi art byakuya looks sad and monomi looks good, but there way better then the monokuma and koro I drew 😰 so I’m only showing Baykuya and monomi .

[hanayanaa]

mmmmm drools last day of the year and i slept 15 hours because i had a cool dream...... well cool is not the right word probably but it was weird af and detailed af also (SUPER LONG AND CONVOLUTED there's like my splatoon agents and then also clownpiece gets involved for some reason and a lot of people die)

it was like. i don't remember all the details but rosie and ame were in this hotel together (al was simply not there) and bla bla normal vacation more or less except like people in this town were very touchy and had 0 sense of boundaries so they'd literally talk to u as if they'd known u forever when in fact they didn't know ur name at all

there was like this big building that was a giant slab of glittery raw marble and the top half had this pool and ame and rosie and some other random people they were friends with my brain invented went in and they just gave out free food in the middle of the pool. there was a bunch of people there but they managed to grab two slices of pizza

ermmm anyway this is where it gets fucked up bc rosie was alone in the hotel room and someone just barged in and started harassing them so they FUCKING JUMP OUT THE WINDOW and they're like fucking dead. and the dude is still up there like omg are u dead. Omg she's dead. Hey are you dead. Lol jumping like that you're definitely dead

anyway ame is like obviously fucking heartbroken and she leaves the hotel and has to drag rosies body back home with her on public transport 😭 and the trains were really weird and the station was not safe at all because there wasn't any railing or anything and it wasn't obvious when the train was urs cuz sometimes they'd drive right next to the platform and you're like oh it's my train and u step down but then it just goes and makes a turn and u almost get run over

also again people in this place had 0 sense of boundaries so ame was also getting harassed by random white women like one of them decided she was best friends with her and was determined to sit next to ame and Ames like No Go Away

like homegirl was insane she was like oh.... all the single seats are taken..... looks like you're gonna have to sit on the bench with meeeee :3

but ame wasn't having that bullshit she just went into swim mode and somehow managed to smash Rosie's corpse into swim mode also and just hid under the nasty ass train seats until she could manage to escape to the top level which she did eventually

anyway the area was nice af for the most part there was this one stop where the shops and stuff were all sanrio fairy kei sweet lolita esque designs like the entire area was like that, ame almost wanted to get off early to see but she had her dead girlfriend in her arms so....

the area she actually got off at was called like avenue oklahoma or something but it was actually this fancy victorian - 1920s fashion district. anyway ame's base/house was this highly secure underground area and she needed to use her fingerprint and eye to access it, it was like a vending machine that would open to this other door, which would then open to the elevator that goes down to the lab

anyway i don't really remember what happens next besides she cried a lot and cryogenically froze rosies body so she could revive her later somehow

Anyway this is where it gets even weirder because clownpiece and junko get involved somehow????????clownpiece is also at the hotel and she's being tasked with solving the mystery of who killed rosie i think and she also has to blend into human society which is fine for her but she's really mad that she can't fly since her wings are hidden. she hates stairs and thinks they're stupid and she also hates walking

she was stuck in the elevator for a while because it moved sideways as well and it was super large and people were obnoxious and dumb and they'd like being entire plates of food in or wear giant ballgowns and poor pipis' room was on the 7th floor out of 8 so she was stuck there while everyone came in and was all over her and each other

ummm the next part is a little blurry but i remember her leaving the hotel and getting chased by someone and she breaks protocol and spreads her wings and starts flying and shooting danmaku but she could also use her torch to turn into different touhous I remember she turned into sakuya and yuyuko among others, she did that to throw the guy off

forgot the next part but now she's in texas for some reason and there's a group of people i don't remember and junko is there and they're just walking casually through this big street and keep in mind clownpiece hates walking so she's a little grumpy

There's this other kid she's talking with I don't remember who but for some reason i wanna say it was Rosie ?????????? idfk this dream already makes 0 sense

anyway i remember they went into a park and rosie sticks their hand thru this hole in a bridge and just pulls out a fish and clownpiece was like "man if wakasagihime was here she'd be so fucking mad at you" and Rosie giggles like "yeah.... ripley (??????? @/energywarning's agent 3 oc) would also be really mad if she was here....." and then they start crying for some reason because I guess Ripley was also dead idfk

Rosie was like "if only i had a jar with me, id keep this fish. id treat it better than i ever treated ripley (???????????????????????)" and then they toss the fish back into the river with a sigh

and then the two kids toddle back to junko and the other adults and I think they were gonna go to yuyuko to beg her to revive Somebody which a) i don't think she can do b) i don't even know whos even dead at this point

Anyway and then I woke up bc it's fucking 8pm now and i took 30 minutes to recall and write all of this down

#dream journal #chatssi #ummm #clownpiece #junko touhou #rosieposting #ameposting #splatoon agents #agent 4 #agent 8 #no more

[loveluststerek]

Harringrove HC Dreams Vol. 2 CONTAINS MPREG

Jurassic Park / Stranger Things AU

My brain just wants these 2 together.

So another dream I had last night, which was very vivid, combined my fear and intrigue of dinosaurs with the boys. Yeah idk either.

So in this dream they’re all trapped on an island, there’s a mansion in the middle of the jungle, and everyone’s there ok, like everyone. There’s huge dinos surrounding them, but it seemed like they had a system going, like they’d been there a while. There’s also some hybrids, like ones that use the tree tops to hunt, some that couldn’t turn their heads. Idk v weird don’t judge me, judge the Escitalopram and Propanalol.

At one point, Dustin is like, dude, you haven’t been grouchy or you haven’t complained about not being able to have peanut butter, you good? To Steve.

It clicks with Steve that he, too, has noticed that his time of the month hasn’t arrived. But they’re on an island of dinosaurs so he just has to hope for the best.

Billy, of course, freaks the ever loving fuck out at the possibility that Steve’s pregnant. They have a v angsty fight about the fact that they can’t afford for Steve not to be on the front lines, because they have systems set up, and Steve always took on the active role of taking out problems that came too close to the kids, and it was dangerous and he could, and has, gotten hurt in the past.

Flash forward to a few weeks later when the sickness and dizziness starts, and it almost cost Steve his life when they were ambushed by a couple velociraptors (the big ones from Jurassic Park, not the tiny new ones). So they have another v angsty convo and they come to the decision to try and end it themselves. Steve gets drunk, didn’t work. A v sad scene was Billy punching him in the stomach, but they both crumple and just hold each other, and agree to do their best with the circumstances.

A couple of cute scenes including Billy catching Steve scrubbing dirt off his little bump. He would always like Steve in the forehead, nose, and gently fist bump his belly, that was his thing when they were splitting up and that.

Some type of dinos got into the foyer of this sprawling mansion and they all split up, Steve with the kids, and in one room which for some reason happened to be a clock tower? A flying type Dino smashed through the clock face and Steve did like a badass move where he vaulted through the one window, holding like the ropes that were dangling because it might off morphed into a bell tower idk these are dreams, and smashes through the window further down, getting between the Dino and the kids, and at one point he had to repel the kids down onto the roof, but something swiped at him and El, so he threw himself and El through the window too, and El managed to slow their fall.

There was a quick snippet of Billy and Steve fighting about Steve going to help when 2 huge trex type things had smashed through the foyer but Billy got pissed, opened a random door in the hallway, and threw Steve in, locking it behind him. Steve was in there for hours and he heard it go dead quiet, and he thought everyone had been killed and it had panic attacks and he was sick and he spiralled. At some point his head cleared and he could head a bunch of people shouting his name and banging on doors. Billy was obvs v sorry and Steve didn’t have the strength to punch him so he kicked him in the shin or something and it was v dramatic, and Dustin was like WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD BECAUSE BILLY AND NANCY LURED THEM AWAY AND NO ONE KNEW WHAT HAPPENED OR WHERE YOU WERE.

There was another one which was exactly like the scene in Jurassic park where they’re hiding in the metal kitchen, but Dustin made a noise and just had to run for it, so Steve went after him, and there was a fight and he threw himself and a frying pan at the Dino and like one but he got thrown straight clear across the room, like sliding across the floor, and he was full of cuts and bruises. Eventually Dustin helps him up to the floor where they use, mainly because it’s easily defensible and it’s basically one big wing, with a few makeshift bedrooms and that, and everyone does a head count check, and when they get there Billy is shouting about how they have to go look for Steve and Dustin, and Steve kind of grimaces and waves his hand, hiking his ripped top up to show his untouched little bump. “All 3 of us are fine, I think”. And Billy loses it and sweeps Steve into his arms and his hands are patting him all over and then holding his face and their touching foreheads and he has tears in his eyes, and Steve is exhausted. Billy just says “we’re getting the fuck out of here, ok?” And then I woke up. I swear I purposefully went back to bed after a full 9 hours sleep and forced myself to doze but the dream didn’t come back I’m sorry 😭😭.

#billy x steve #my headcanon #stranger things x Jurassic Park #apparently #Mpreg #discussions of miscarriage and abortion #tw: abortion #tw: miscarriage #harringrove #billysteve #Billy/Steve

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

TOP TEN games on Cool Math Games?!

1. Asdungeon

2. Run

3. Run 3

4. Wh

Well, first of all, as you may have noticed from my other answer, I don't like any games that have random chance involved, so some of these lists have a large gap between the top and second top choices. (Also, I would not call Asdungeon "cool" by any stretch of imagination – see here)

So, without further ado:

10: Run

This is an object-oriented platformer. This means that the levels look a lot like this

The little red figures represent the player, and they are on a series of tracks in the shape of a trackball or joystick. The player can control the speed, direction, and trajectory of their motion, but they can only go forward or backward, with their velocity constrained to the tracks. (For instance, if the player goes forward slowly on a curve and then fast the other direction, the player will bounce off the ends of the track – but they cannot reverse direction and go down a slope, unless they go too fast.)

Sometimes there are obstacles, like a moving ramp here

These obstacles can be pushed through by the player, though it takes a bit of finesse, but if you try to hit them with a speed boost they bounce off and you just get the same thing with a different velocity.

Another big feature is what I'll call "gambles," which happen when the player goes to one of the platforms at the top of a track, but one of the platforms is not on the track and thus can't be reached by the player. (As opposed to in some games, where the platform is "above" or "down," meaning that the player can reach the platform but can only jump up to it or jump down to it if it's "on" the track.) The player might try jumping off, but if the track turns the player falls and dies. The player can jump out of some, but not all, gambles.

This can mean the player is "trapped" and in a "gambler's dilemma" where their only choices are either to jump or not to jump, and the game's score is based on the percentage of gambles the player is able to clear. The game looks like this when you first see it:

When the player wins, after making a bunch of jumps over and around an obstacle, a bunch of the tracks look like this:

9: Asdungeon

I love this game, it's very simple and very well made. The basic concept is that the player is in a small room with a big, empty room at the far end. On their own, the player can't reach the far end, they need a tool. Each player character, of which there are two, can do different tasks with a tool they find. The first player character, called Asd, picks up a screwdriver and starts working on the floor. (They can go fast, but their tools are limited to the screwdriver.) The player can then use a screwdriver to rotate the screw to get a different tool, like a crowbar or hammer, and repeat.

This mechanic is repeated throughout, but each time the player has one tool they must use it all the time, the screw disappears, and then you have to go back to the beginning and do that again.

The game is pretty short, but the structure is fascinating. The player has to try to reach the far room, without any help from other tools. They get a bit help if they manage to find some screws in each room they reach, but then those are all taken away and put somewhere else. There is only one screw per room, so the player is limited in how many rooms they can reach in a row. Each room is its own puzzle and has a lot of interesting challenges (like a locked-in door, or an invisible room at the very end of the level, with a puzzle that can only be solved by taking a detour around the room).

The gameplay loop feels very tight, like one puzzle after another is always on the player's mind, and you can't let your mind wander. (It's not the sort of game where you can let it wander, since any screw you try to take away will disappear on the spot!) So you're always trying to get to the next puzzle in each room.

8: Run3

This game is more of a puzzle, with a mechanic you've seen in games before: the player is an ice skater and their goal is to go down a slope and cross a line. Their movement is constrained in several ways: they can only go straight, and there are jumps they can only take once they've hit the line. They also can't jump straight up; they'll go up an incline and get a penalty. (On the screen shot below, the line is in the bottom right.)

As you can see from this example, if the player gets more than 1 point too much velocity on the track, then they hit the line but fall backwards, so they need to slow down.

7: Run2

Another game that reminds me of Portal in some ways. I'm calling this game Run2 because "run" is too obvious and everyone knows what that word means.

The player controls a robot with two arms, one of which is grabbing and the other of which is lifting. Their goal is to go to a portal on the ground floor, but their only source of lift is on the second floor. To reach the first portal on the ground, the player can climb it, but there is no point. The game does not allow the player to move backward.

Run2 also has a similar, "gambler's dilemma" mechanic. If the robot fails to get a portal on the ground floor, it's still possible to make it up a few floors higher, but they'll just come crashing down again. The player can only escape these gambles if they manage to climb a staircase on each floor. If the robot falls into a pit or falls off a staircase then that means their score is too low and they have to start the level over.

The gameplay loop is also tight. In particular, the player can't go backward – if you go backward and then turn around, you'll die and have to start the level over.

So there you have my two favorite games from 2013. Edit: I forgot to count the original game that made this list in the first place, so let's do that:

I feel like it doesn't get enough respect, it's one of the first games I remember playing. (The graphics are so much better now.)

#long post #stinkersavior #computer generated image #guidance scale 2

[mermaidmelodyedits]

Return to the Sea (Older Mel AU) Ch. 3

Author Notes: This fanfic is a retelling of The Little Mermaid 2 Return to the Sea but with Melody at 19 instead of 12. This fanfic was originally posted on my deviantart, and as of 4-25-22 it has 22 chapters and a prologue. You can also find it on fanfiction.net where it also has all 22 chapters and the prologue. I’ll be posting a new chapter to deviantart every week in Saturday, so look forward to that. Thanks for reading! Story starts below

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was her worst nightmare, and she had no one to blame but herself. What idiot forgets their own birthday?

Melody had never swam so fast in her life, just barely managing to get through the courtyard unseen. Wrapped in her black robe, she hid herself in the shadows of the castle walls.

To her utter horror her mother entered the courtyard, and she was obviously looking for Melody.

“Melody! Melody where are you?” Her mother’s shouting voice was all too familiar to her. Melody didn’t dare breathe as her mother passed just feet from where she was hiding.

“I do not have time for this nonsense today.”

Melody could already hear the disappointment in her mother’s voice, even when her mom didn’t realize she was there to hear it.

She also instantly knew everything was going to be a lot harder, everyone was probably looking for her now. All she could do now was get to her bedroom on the top floor of the castle, she could figure everything else out from there.

An entire life of slinking around in the shadows had paid off for something, because she did get back to her room. Barely slipping by all the castle staff out looking for her.

As anyone who commits an offense, Melody scrambled to hide the evidence of her crime. She threw everything from the ocean into her locked chest, slamming the closet doors shut and stashing the key. Tripping over her own feet in the process, Melody frantically changed into the closest nightgown. The door to her room busted open only a second after she got the dress on.

“Melody! Where on earth have you been? Everyone has been looking for you all morning.” Her mother strode into her room, followed by a bunch of young women Melody had never seen before.

“I’m sorry mom, I couldn’t sleep last night. I went for a walk this morning to clear my head…”

Ariel instantly softened, “Oh darling, just be careful from now on. Try not to go anywhere without your guards ok? I was worried about you…”

Melody used her most innocent voice, “I will mom, I’d hate to worry you.” 

Ariel smiled and gently took her daughter’s hand before pausing and touching Melody’s wet hair.

“Melody… why do you smell like salt water, and why is your hair wet?” Ariel’s eyes narrowed instantly.

“During my walk I went to our private beach, it was pretty dark and I accidentally went a little deeper than I should…” It was a pretty pathetic explanation, but Ariel really didn’t have time to question.

“You know how I feel about the water love, it’s not safe. But it doesn’t matter now, you're going to wash off soon anyway. Which reminds me, I have a birthday surprise for you.”

She pulled Melody across the room to the small group of impeccably dressed women. Melody instantly felt self conscious, her hair wet, dressed in a random nightgown she grabbed off the floor. Meanwhile, all these girls had beautiful silk dresses, hair done up in wonderful ribbons, gems, and bows. Their faces appeared flawless.

“You're an adult now, and every royal woman needs a group of ladies in waiting by her side. Your father and I carefully picked these lovely young women from all the noble families in the land. They are eligible maidens just like yourself, and I know you're going to make such good friends with them.” Her mother seemed so excited but Melody wanted to jump out the window. Now they hand picked her friends out for her too?

“Their first job is to get you ready for the big day. I promise you will look radiant.” The queen introduced the five young ladies to her, before kissing her daughter on the head and rushing off to begin greeting the guests.

As soon as the queen left, the air changed completely. A mix of disgust and superiority washed over their faces as they inspected her.

“Um hi?” The young princess awkwardly attempted to break the heavy silence.

“Ugh, you reek like fish.” One pinched her nose in disgust. Another circled around like a shark.

“Oh my, look! There is seaweed in her hair.” They all broke out into giggles. 

A different girl groaned, “We really have our work cut out for us, don’t we ladies?”

“We sure do!” Another agreed way too enthusiastically.

They didn’t wait for her to speak, everything became a whirlwind. She was whisked to the royal washroom and shoved into the luxurious giant bathtub. The girls chatted amongst themselves as they worked like they had been friends for years, leaving her out of the conversations.

They were rude and stuck up, but they knew what they were doing. The girls had spent their lives learning beauty tricks, and their skills were well beyond anything Melody could do.

Her skin was scrubbed thoroughly, erasing the smell of the ocean off of her. They put all sorts of different oils, conditionaries, and intoxicatingly sweet shampoos in her hair, making it softer and shinier than she ever would have thought possible. They rounded her nails and painted them a soft pink, a color she wouldn’t have picked herself.

After the bath, the girls began bringing out dozens of beauty products, all of them scented with perfume. There was definitely a complex science to what they were doing, but it was all beyond her.

The gown for the day was chosen mostly without her input. Aj incredibly detailed ball gown, mostly white with bright coral detailing. An off the shoulder neckline, sleeves a gorgeous sheer and sparkling coral fabric. At the center of her chest where the sleeves met, a small pale green bow.

She was squeezed into white lace corset, which the girls tied as tightly as humanly possible. Nearly suffocating the princess, but creating the slender figure they desired. Then the large hoop skirt of the ball gown was wrapped around her tiny waist, layers and layers of fabric weighing heavily on her hips. Each layer of the dress was trimmed and intricately embroidered with sparkling coral fabric. A matching pink satin sash was wrapped over where the skirt met the corset, tied off into an obnoxiously large bow behind her back. The look was completed by pink pump heels, which Melody struggled to walk in.

Her hair was brushed into a half up half down look, two perfect small braids leading to the back of her head. Abright diamond covered tiara was placed on her head, a stark contrast from her black locks. Like magic they fluffed her hair, making it seem more voluminous and lucious than she had ever seen. 

The girls took an hour putting makeup on her face. Every imperfection on her skin erased, lips stained coral, black pencil lined her eyes, and a dark gunk applied to her lashes which tripled their length. The final step was a sparkling gold cream, which radiated like diamonds in the light. They painted it over her eyelids, cheek bones and the bridge of her nose.

When Melody saw herself in the mirror, she genuinely did not recognize who she saw. The gold paint contoured her face into a completely new shape, her eyes suddenly look like they belong to a vixen. The gown created a dramatic and shapely silhouette out of her body that she never knew she had.

“Well ladies, I’d say this was our most drastic makeover session yet. She has a good chance of snagging a prince now.” One of the women proclaimed, the rest agreed.

“I sort of see her a little bit of the queen’s radiance in her now.” Another carefully examined Melody’s face.

Before she could reply, the door to the room opened. All of the women immediately went silent, and dropped into a curtsy. 

In the doorway stood Melody’s father, King Eric.

#disney edit #disney princess fanart #disney fanfiction #fanartists #fanfic #disney sequels #return to the sea #disney princesses #princess melody #princess #disney fanart #disney edits #fanfiction #the little mermaid #little mermaid #the little mermaid 2 #mermaidmelodyedits #disney AU #au fanfiction

[msbarrows]

The RNG finally coughed up a good enough planet for my City of Atlantis base yesterday! Desert planet, with blue sky, turquoise waters, and only occasional sandstorms (which are annoying but infrequent, and usually on the shorter side). Excellent lighting apart from when it’s storming out, gets a bit cold at night and hot during storms but is mostly a good temp, no sentinels, haven’t run into any predators yet while I was poking around on land before heading off to look at ocean locations.

After a bunch of hopping around via starship and Nomad I found a tiny half-circle islet well away from any other bits of land, surrounded by deep water and with an underwater power hotspot right at the foot of it. I’ve used that as the central location that I’m building the city outwards from, which has the very nice advantage that I was able to place my teleportation ring so the only thing between it and solid ground is a stone slab. Yay for not falling through floors when porting in! This does mean I’ve moved the portal room from its canonical tower-top location all the way down to ground level, but I’m more after the snowflake-shaped floating city aesthetic than trying to exactly replicate many details. Though I think it also means I should build the chair room up in the top for a reversal of key locations. Tower is pretty tall, I put in an internal floor every third flight of stairs, then ran short-range teleports between every second of those (every 6 flights) and it takes two teleports to get from the bottom of the tower to the top; three if you count teleporting from the portal room up into the tower base first.

The idea of building the lower section of the tower out of regular build sets and then the spire itself out of cuboids worked out pretty well; I’m really pleased with the combination of the differing looks. Will be nice to see how all the build sets combine as I build up the rest of the city, and eventual undersea areas as well.

Have already used up vast amounts of pure ferrite using cuboids to build the bulbous central tower; to the point I had to go on ferrite-collection expeditions twice already, and then went and set up a magnetized ferrite mine elsewhere so I’ll have an abundance of that to de-magnetize down to pure, since this is only one of several cuboid structures the city will have. (Just the shaft of the tower used up 6k pure ferrite - 5 cuboids per level times 100 per cuboid times 12 floors, plus internal floors walls doors and stairs - then the top bit used up even more). Thankfully I already have a silver mine and therefor a really good stock of silver on hand for making the glass cuboids (4 per level times 25 per cube and then a bunch more at the top). Kept running out of glass and having to make more through, but at least once I finally run low on silicate again that’s just a big sandpit in a random location away from being restocked.

#No Man's Sky #City of Atlantis #Yet more building of bases

[ne0spac3-g0v3rnmen7]

flight of the crows #3

(a/n: this is where the completed chapters end and because I usually write shorter chapters, it's probably gonna take a week or two to get more out. enjoy while u still can >:)

also if you enjoy my writing, my links are not only in the last post, but at the time I'm writing this my pinned post should be that. yay)

TOMMYINNIT PERSPECTIVE

"Phil!" Tommy shouted, walking through the hole in the wall that they called a door. He knew Phil was visiting today, so he decided to visit him before he leaves.

Walking through the door, he spots the horrifying sight of his older brother's bloody dead body. "PHIL!" Tommy screams almost at the top of his lungs.

Phil stumbles out of the room Technoblade prepared for him into the doorway of it. "Hey, To-" Phil stops his sentence, looking at the body of his son laying on the ground.

Phil didn't shout or cry, he just stood there looking at the body. "W-what happened!?" Tommy asked Phil.

"I'm... I'm not sure yet." Phil said. Phil walked up to Wilbur's body and sat by it. He started to look for the wounds put on the body.  

A deep cut near his stomach, possible a sword or pickaxe, and 7 separate stab wounds, too small to be a sword, so probably a smaller than average hunting knife, or a pocket knife

Phil looked around the room. The only few noticeable things were the crying young boy in the corner and something small covered in blood.

Something small covered in blood?

He crawled over to the object, and upon closer inspection, it's a pocket knife. He wipes some of the blood off, the word 'lore' carved into it.

-

TECHNOBLADE PERSPECTIVE

He sits up in his bed, grabbing a health potion and drinking it. His arm and stomach haven't healed up fully yet.

He can hear someone mining through the stone he's put down, blocking the door. "Techno?" Phil walked into the room and saw Technoblade sitting up in his bed.

Phil stared at him for about 30 seconds before saying something else. "Techno."

-

PHILZA PERSPECTIVE

Looking at Technoblade, he was covered in blood that didn't seem to be his own. "What the fuck." 

Technoblade stared back at him. "Heh?" He seemed confused. "Why the fuck is your brother lying dead on the floor?!"

Technoblade stayed silent for a few seconds. "I... I didn't do most of it." Phil threw his hands in front of himself almost as if it was a low-budget scripted film for the Indie Visions Film Festival.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Technoblade fiddled his thumbs nervously.

Phil started to walk towards Techno. He wasn't sure what he was about to do, but he was going to do that.

When Phil finally gets to Techno he punches Technoblade's face which makes Techno fall back onto the bed.

Technoblade puts one of his hands over the place Phil punched, gets back up, and pushes Phil over.

-

TECHNOBLADE PERSPECTIVE

Phil seemed angry. What if he thinks he killed Wilbur? He doesn't know what to do or how to explain this situation, so he runs out of his room and into the wilderness.

Carl, his horse, was right by the door so he untied the leash from the fence and rides Carl off into the forest.

-

PHILZA PERSPECTIVE

While Techno was leaving the room, he just sat there for a few seconds recovering silently from the fall. Then he got up to chase Technoblade.

"Tommy, get your horse, we're leaving." Tommy got off the floor and followed behind Phil. Phil had just picked a random horse that was in front of the house while Tommy got on top of his trusty steed, Henry.

-

TECHNOBLADE PERSPECTIVE

He can hear the sound of hooves slamming against the dirt behind him. He knows that they won't be able to catch up, but it's still anxiety-inducing.

Technoblade checks his inventory to see if he has anything he can use to stop them, or at least slow them down.

A box, 15 poison-tipped arrows, a pickaxe, a spare iron ax, and a bunch of unlabeled potions.

It looks like he'll just have to outrun them. Technoblade gets Carl to swerve into the forest to try to get Phil and Tommy to lose sight of him.

Carl was quick, agile, and smart, so he doesn't worry about anything aside from knowing he might also be killed if they catch up to him.

He can hear shouting behind him, but he can't tell what is being shouted. Carl continues to run swiftly through the forest while Technoblade looks behind them.

He throws a potion of invisibility down on the ground and he can hear the glass shards from the broken bottle hit against his horse's armor.

-

time skip

-

TECHNOBLADE PERSPECTIVE

It's been a while since he'd ran away from Pogtopia, around three days if he remembers correctly. He had already set up camp in the middle of the forest. 

It should be deep enough in the forest for nobody to find him for a while, which would be bad if he died.

He looks over at Carl, the only friend who helped him through this. "Hey, Carl." He offered the brown horse a carrot he found at the bottom of his bag.

The horse took the carrot and Technoblade had pet Carl's forehead.

While the horse ate, Technoblade was telling him about plans. "Okay, so I'm at least 85% sure Phil's mad at us, maybe Tommy too, so I think we should go back to Antarctica."

"Staying here is basically suicide, so we should leave as early as we can." 

Almost as if it was planned, two papers blew through the wind towards the two and Technoblade had grabbed one.

Looking at the paper, it was a bounty poster. For himself

Wanted: Technoblade, 10k emeralds, dead or alive (please bring him dead)

"Wow, how nice," Technoblade said, crumpling the paper and throwing it into the campfire he had lit.

"Looks like we need a plan. Any ideas?"

-

time skip

-

It was around 2 hours, and Technoblade has not only come up with a plan but also has been taking action with that plan.

He was going to stay somewhere outside Dream SMP territory until

A: Things calm down and Technoblade can get to his airplane to fly back to Antarctica

or

B: He gets in contact with his friends who are in the Antarctic Empire and they fly here and pick him up.

And plan B seems the most realistic here.

While demolishing the campfire to remove any evidence of being here, he can hear the sound of a horse walking. 

He climbs up a tree and looks around the area. He spots the horse he heard with Quackity on top of it. It seems Quackity is by himself, though.

He might be here for him, so they should vacate the area. It would be too loud to continue packing up his items, so he'll have to leave them here for now.

Technoblade hops on top of Carl as fast as he can and Carl starts trotting into the forest and accidentally makes a bit too much noise.

"HEY!!" Technoblade can hear being shouted from behind him. Carl's trotting soon turned into a full-speed gallop and slowly merged onto the pathway.

"GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH!" Quackity's horse wasn't that fast of a horse, but it still managed to keep up the pace and stayed a fair distance from Carl and Technoblade.

-

QUACKITY PERSPECTIVE

Ever since the butcher army has tried to killed Technoblade which resulted in losing his left eye, he's been losing his sight a bit in his remaining eye.

He's not been sure what to do about it, so currently he's just not tried to get help.

Quackity trusts his horse, a snow-white steed named Caspian, to follow Technoblade for him as this was a highly trained horse in his own unprofessional opinion.

One bad thing about Caspian was her stamina. They already galloped through the forest here, so Caspian will most likely need to take a break soon.

-

TECHNOBLADE PERSPECTIVE

Technoblade knows exactly where he's going. He made a barn to farm potatoes while away from the Antarctic Empire, it's been abandoned since he won the potato war and almost nobody knows where it is so it should be the perfect place to hide.

The beating of his heart matches up with the sound of hooves slamming against the dirt. The barn is nearby.

They take a sharp turn into the forest where the barn should be and is.

-

QUACKITY PERSPECTIVE

Quackity was currently on the side of the pathway, holding a bucket of water that Caspian was drinking out of.

Quackity has always been told to get another horse, and he would agree, but he's pretty sure that no other horse (Aside from Carl, of course,) is better than Caspian and breeding horses would take too long, especially when in the middle of dealing with a revolution.

Oh yeah, he also was very attached to the mare.

But that's not important right now, what is important is that Quackity should probably try to catch up to Technoblade.

Caspian stood back up and Quackity struggled to get on. (Because he's short. I'm sorry)

If he was correct, Technoblade should have gone this way...

-

TECHNOBLADE PERSPECTIVE

Not that deep in the forest, he had gotten to his barn. It was a bit run down, the crows taking over what was left of the potato farm as they also had taken over the scarecrow, and the chipping red paint that he should fix soon.

 He had led Carl over to the horse pen that had some other horses than Carl, and taken off their diamond horse armor.

Another important thing is what Technoblade should do with himself. He's already got his career situated and future planned, so he should probably find a place to hide instead.

He started looking in the bag he snagged from his item stash and found a few things. An invisibility potion, 15 poison-tipped arrows, a single carrot, and one lonely fruit snack.

Technoblade ate the fruit snack, almost choking on it, then took his helmet off and splashed himself with the invisibility potion.

He could hear the sound of hooves slamming against the gravel in front of the barn, so he had quickly stashed away his bag now with his helmet in it under some hay, and dashed across the barn into one of the corners.

Quackity walked into the barn dragging his ax against the spruce floor, scanning the room the best he could.

"Come out please," Quackity was poking his head over the fence of the pig pen. "I can't see, this is rude."

Quackity leaned against a pole made of spruce logs. "I'll pay you?" He could see Quackity check his inventory and pull out a crossbow with what might have a poison-tipped arrow.

Quackity started climbing up a ladder and Technoblade had a chance to move across the room and open a chest. He pulled out a crossbow and grabbed a poison-tipped arrow from his bag. 

-

time skip

-

Eventually, Quackity comes back down the ladder and Technoblade started aiming it for his hip.

Quackity was just standing there as if he knew he was going to be hit with an arrow and that he wanted to.

Technoblade steadied his aim a bit more and fired.

But Quackity decided that he was going to walk on over to his horse as he assumed Technoblade wasn't here, and the arrow somehow ended up in his calf.

He could hear Quackity scream out in pain as he fell onto his knees. This should be able to keep Quackity distracted for a while, so while he's doing whatever he'll do Technoblade grabs his bag, hops on Carl, and leaves as fast as he can.

It may be a bit sad how there's a possibility Quackity could die, but he now has a more efficient weapon than a pickax and an ax.

-

time skip

-

Technoblade has finally returned to where he used to be, none of his items missing thankfully. He packs it into his bag, giving Carl many carrots as he has no room for them in his bag.

Technoblade had swung the backpack over his shoulders and hopped on top of Carl. He wasn't sure which direction was truly out of Dream SMP territory, so he just chose a random direction and hoped it would work. 

While Carl was trotting over into the direction they've decided to go, he looked back at the place that used to be somewhat of a campsite and remembers what he's done to get in this situation.

-

time skip

-

It has been at least an hour or so since they left the campsite. The sun was already beginning to set, the light barely passing through the autumn leaves that are still hanging on the trees.

It was a very nice sight to see. He had gotten off of Carl and decided to take a bit of a break. There was a bit of a hillside, so he had laid on the ground, his back against the dirt letting him still see the mesmerizing sunset.

But, something broke the silence. 

Talking.

#blood and gore #mcyt #mcytblr #dsmp techno #technoblade #dsmp wilbur #philza #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit #phil watson #not rpf #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #wattpad story #flight of the crows

[iam-back]

Super Mario RPG playthrough diary - 33

6 doors, 3 final weapons, and no going back. I'll be eaten alive in these trials.

It's randomized per playthrough - pray I don't get Dr. Topper's electric-lime-green mug grinning at me, least of all twice if I want everyone's final weapons.

Oh thank God - Door Number 1 has an Action Course.

I have to get used to the ball-rolling Bob-Omb section - the controls are reversed when you're on the ball.

And at the end is something we haven't seen since Bandit's Way - the rotatey-platformy-doodah.

Your reward for that is Mallow's final weapon - the Sonic Cymbals!

Let's cross our mangled little fingers and see what's behind Door Number 2, shall we??

Well, at least it's trivia, which I'm pretty good at, considering I watched multiple playthroughs. All of the correct answers (except the last two, which were middle) were the top answer.

Second up is the barrel math crap. Piece of garbage.

I failed this soda poop's barrel counting shit, so it's on to Door Number 3.

The enemies summoned within the 3 long hallways are summoned by a red-clad Magikoopa. When did Smithy hire Magikoopas...? Or was this one stolen and brain-probed?

In total there are 12 encounters you must go through in these sorts of doors. Here, the reward is the Drill Claw, for Bowser!

What does Door Number 4 have in store?

The first room has you navigating invisible platforms that you must jump on in order to see what the floor looks like. The Koopas are doing a good job right now, but in a minute your own jumps will be necessary.

In the second room, you have to navigate moving platforms across lava AGAIN. What a try-eater!

If somehow you make it, at the end you're playing Donkey Kong. You'll need extensive therapy at the end of this one, trust me. Or maybe get your mama.

After I miraculously got through while only expending one try in the Donkey Kong section, my reward was the Super Slap, which should've been Peach's final weapon if it hadn't been for that damned Frying Pan and which I completely forgot about until just now.

At the other side of Door Number 5, what will I see?

I hate Blackjack, I'm terrible at it.

BUT I WON ANYWAY!!! Now for the button-dinky-doody, which I deliberately failed - let's just skip ahead to Door Number 6, which from process of elimination is a gauntlet.

After 12 more encounters, I get the Star Gun, Geno's final weapon.

After this we see what became of poor Wizakoopa.

And after we knock the Smithyfication out of Wizakoopa, he agrees to help BIG-TIME.

Also, didn't he say "ho'okalakupua" or something in the original? What's with the badly-spelled "you get what you pay for"? Why couldn't they have made him scream out "kilokilo"?

And from Croco, I've bought a bunch of cool armors!

So, after I've accumulated enough coins for one more shop in the game, it's time to bid a tearful farewell to Croco and press on to the next Save Block. Bye-bye, folks... wait, there's a Thwomp Hall after that!? Uh, see you next time anyway, cuz here comes a boss fight and Tumblr only has room for 10 images at a time!

#super mario rpg #nintendo switch

[rataster]

07.09.2019 Tuesday

Ok so I know it's been a month and a half since I last wrote in this and I really have no excuse. I've been lazy. End of story. I want to write a lot so I don't forget it later.

For one, I've been playing a lot of awesome games. Life is Strange, Oxenfree & Danganronpa 2 (and other assorted random free indie games on steam). I started watching Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and it is a really great show. Really good. I legit can't pick a favorite part since they're all so good but probably 4?? It's much more lowkey than the others. Most of the villains become friends, plus Josuke & Okuyasu are cuties. Kristin and I have talked a lot because of JJBA, which is great!!

Started listening to Ricky Montgomery & Two Door Cinema Club's new album came out (it slaps :D). Satisfaction Guarenteed is my favorte track (and is also a great name for a stand).

And, most importantly, I'm in Australia! We stayed a week in Sydney at a three story air bnb at the Rocks. It was pretty close to the Sydney Opera House. Sydney is definitely pretty sweet, def a nice city, but you can't beat the outdoors.

Before I forget, here's a schedule of what we did:

Monday: arrived at the airport, walked around to the Opera house and ate at the underground opera restaurant. Went to the I.G.A for groceries.

Tuesday: took the ferry to the Taronga zoo. Had a delicious ham and tomato wrap. Had sandwiches for dinner. Bird show, giraffes, cassowarys, and more.

Wednesday: Bus tour and the Beautiful Bondi Beach. Souvenir.

Thursday: Seal life, pd started :( museum of austrlia (history and natural history). St Mary's tree across from Hyde park. We stopped by a four story high end mall. Very high end stuff, but there was a hobby store at the end of the fourth floor. I found a Trish and Narancia figure which is cool (ok i freaked out alot).

Friday: Museum of Contemporary Art (meh).

Saturday: Me n' youngest sister went to Macca's for another mud muffin. Then we looked around the shops. (near the visitors center) I got a nice bag for Cameron, I hope she likes it! It has a kangaroo on it. We also looked at some outdoor shops, I saw a cute purse with a cat on it. Then we went to see an opera at the opera house. It was Anne Bolyne, which was really really good. They had massive LCD screens with warped mirrors on the opposite sides, which gave nice atmosphere to all the different acts. When Anne was decapitated, she had an out of body experience. When the dancer's sword swung down, the other dancers ripped off her dress, revealing a red dress underneath. Plus all the LCD screens went white. I loved that moment. Unfortunately, I was too busy trying not to fall asleep to remember act 2.

Sunday: Went to church @ St. Patirck's. A beautiful church! I liked the passage printed on the bulletin about how hard it is to be a catholic sometimes. I saw some cool necklaces at the convenience store. I went with dad to the observatory and it was really interesting. We also went to some of the shops. Dad bought me a lovely necklace. It's got a spiral on one side and a bunch of colors on the other. Uncle V came today! Great to see him.

Monday: We left Sydney and took a train to Kotoomba (misspelled). I love travelling by train. I listened to music and started reading Warcross (great book!!!) We got to our new air bnb which is beautiful. I loved the sloped wooden ceilings. I want to live here and hang my posters on the slope, right above my bed.

And that lead to today, Tuesday. We had an amazing hike in the blue mountains. It is so beautiful, I was so happy. We also had a great lunch at the top. I absolutely loved the jewlery at the gift shop. I almost considered getting the two Ying and yang necklaces with dragons on them for Elizabeth and I. We then took the bus into town. It was funny because in a hotel courtyard up some steps, you can tell that's where teh rebel kids hung out, with their cigarettes and piercings. We stopped by a cool rock shop, and a neat purse shop.

During the hike, I was thinking of starting a jojo fic. I know I'm terrible at writing consistently. I still want to finish the JeanMarco fic, but I just don't care for sitting down and writing each day. Maybe I should set some time aside and do some short writing prompts.

I'm grateful I wrote down so much about this trip. To be honest, I had forgotten a lot. It's painful to read the parts about religion. I'm no longer Catholic, and it's just a cruel reminder. In some ways, when I was still religious, it was a simpler time.

I was so fucking naive though. The 'rebels'??? Girl

I don't remember much about Warcross but I do remember giving it 2 starts when I finished and being highly disappointed with the ending.

#diary #diary entry #online diary #digital diary #personal archive #journal entry #journal

[sunnysunnyrose]

poly!bowers gang headcanons

poly!bowers gang x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw (obvs).

(this got rlly long rlly quick i am sorry, i got carried away but ive got a lot of ideas for poly!bowers gang x reader stuff, requests are open too - although i am a bit slow. i hope the IT 2017 fandom still alive < 3)

(how you join them and meet them is up to you but you are richie’s cousin from another state/country living with him n his parents because your parents divorced and are trash and basically didn't want you)

you guys never have a name for your type of relationship, and you’re not sure if any of you guys would put a label on it, you guys just hang out with each other, kiss each other and fuck ya know?

no one at schools knows that all five of you have something going on but also everyone is literally too scared to ever go up to one of you lot and ask or try to figure something out

you always come home super late, im talking like 3/4a.m (even when you have school in the next few hours), sometimes you don't even come home

there’s been a few times where you’ve climbed in through the bathroom window on the second floor (its the window that opens the widest for some random reason) and richie’s standing on the landing and you both just sorta freeze

like, the first time -

it was around 3am and belch had dropped you off back at your house, richie was watching through his bedroom window, loud talking and muffled music from the car making much noise on the street. they drove off and a few thirty seconds later richie watched from his bedroom door as you began walking out the bathroom. the two of you stared at each other, “this stays between us okay?” and richie nodded before seeing the hickeys on your neck which he grimaced at before you disappeared into your room.

monthly pregnancy scares lol; the tests always come out negative (thank fuck) but none of the boys ever really like using protection and neither do you so thats the risk you take

patrick has a thing for grabbing or slapping your ass anywhere, like he’ll do it in front of anyone, he doesn't care, you belong to him <3 he finds it funny when you tell him to stop

like you’ll be walking out of school or something like that and all of a sudden theres a hand on your ass and you know its patrick but it makes you jump a little, patrick laughs and puts his arm around your shoulders

the very very rare moments when henry sneaks into your room and breaks down cause of his dad (this happens rarely tho). he’ll threaten to kill you if you tell anybody (romantic isn't it), you’d never tell a soul but you know henry wouldn't actually kill you.

although you guys all hang out, you’ll spend a lot of nights with each of the boys individually, ya’know, fucking (to put it simply).

patrick makes you discover a bunch of kinks you don't know you had before you met them all, (he’s the kinkiest and you always leave his with marks on you, not just hickies).

henry, like patrick, loves your ass but he’s more private about it, like when it’s just you two he loves spanking the shit out of you, he bends you over his knee and everything. he loves being a dom to you; he loves the power.

tbf all the guys really love your ass, they all enjoy spanking you a lot ehe <3

when it comes to sex, vic and reggie aren’t as rough as the others two but that doesn’t mean they’re all vanilla.

vic really loves to grab you by your throat and be on top, although his grip isn’t like patricks which you’re thankful for sometimes ehe

and reggie loves your ass too like he loves you from behind : )

that one time you, patrick and henry had a threesome - jesus christ you dont think you’ve ever came that hard before

and that one time reggie walked in on you and vic making out with you in his lap and things progressed and reggie joined in

none of the boys are brilliant at like being emotionally romantic, y'know? its something they all struggle with but vic and reg are definitely better at it than patrick and henry

like vic and reg call you pet names sometimes, not just baby but like ‘princess’ n stuff, not always but if you are alone with either of them they’ll call you that

you sit on one of their laps a lot but be careful if you sit on patrick’s lap you bet your ass he’s grabbing your throat from behind at random times

henry gets jealous quickly, anytime one of the others touches you, he’s like ://////

richie has definitely hears some noises from your room really late at night

eddie jokes about how hot you are to him and it pisses him off

and unfortunately for him one time henry heard him and well yeah you can imagine what happened

#henry bowers x reader #belch huggins x reader #victor criss x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #Patrick Hockstetter #henry bowers #it 2017 #it 2017 x reader #bowers gang x reader #poly!bowers gang x reader

[mochegato]

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment.  She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham.  The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high.  The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision.  It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to.  It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her.  She eyed the people around her as she walked.  Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her.  She could feel somebody watching her.  She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move.  She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her.  She frowned slightly and shook her head.  She was getting paranoid.  She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.  

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag.  The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own.  She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it.  She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything.  Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs.  She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her.  She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion.  “Just me.  It’s okay. It’s just me.”  He watched her for a few seconds.  She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me.  So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.”  He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow.  “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right?  You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you doing here?”  

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today.  It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes.  And I’m a security expert.  I consult on it for people and companies.  I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.”  He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe.  “I can already tell that you need better locks.  I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds.  “You would be right.”  She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door.  “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern.  “I wouldn’t let you.  I’d charge Tim for it.  He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him.  The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became.  She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there.  Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.  

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys.  “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.”  She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise.  After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment.  He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting.  But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now?  “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions.  Standard issue, not particularly secure.  He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight.  He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open.  He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile.  Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her.  There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected.  He shook his head at the condition of the apartment.  It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean.  He could see why she and Tim got along so well.  Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.  

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports.  He raised an eyebrow at that.  Odd combination.  His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door.  He scrunched his forehead in confusion.  If she lived with someone, where were they?  Where were they last night?  Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him?  “You live with someone?  A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator.  “No.  Well, yes, but no.  I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded.  That was good at least.  She wasn’t living alone.  There was someone else with her usually.  That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her.  He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time.  It was worse than the door.  “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones.  This lock is ancient too.  It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it.  We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter.  She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad.  She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here.  Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be.  She was just an average citizen here.  

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could.  She was no longer safe, not even in her own home.  But then again, she never really had been had she?  She had just thought she was.  She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant.  Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting.  Jason could guess where her head went.  When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang.  She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.  

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water.  She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water.  Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help.  It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter.  Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink.  She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter.  After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed.  Jason frowned at the sound.  It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her.  He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help.  God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming.  Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her.  She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again.  They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.  

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring.  She shook her head at herself.  She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped.  She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.”  She paused to listen to him.  “No, I’m fine.  I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it.  Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim.  “I’m doing okay, I guess.  I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid.  I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor.  “No, thank you though.  Actually, your brother is here already.”  She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.  

“…that so.  That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern.  “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh.  Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications.  She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off.  He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed.  “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down.  And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.”  He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling.  “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.”  She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey!  That makes me Ron?  What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled.   “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words.  “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?”  Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in.  “Oh!  No, I was serious.  You two remind me of my friends.  It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight?  You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again.  “Yeah, Tim.  I’m okay.  Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.  Let me know if that changes.  I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously.  “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely.”

“Sweet.  I might test it just for that,” she teased him.  “Night, Tim.”

“Night.  And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up.  She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go?  It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her.  “I have plenty of time.  Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again.  “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture.  It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”  

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him.  “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile.  “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes.  “You certainly seem to think so.”  She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now.  If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him.  She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him.  “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes.  “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response.  “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly.  She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively.  “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it?  Or pretend like it never happened.  I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly.  “I was keeping an eye on my drinks.  I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.”  She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before.  “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence.  When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring.  He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.  

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously.  He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were.  “You don’t think it was just opportunistic.  You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor.  She gripped her arms tighter.  “I don’t know.  I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people.  I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again.  “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded.  She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze.  She looked up at him with a fake smile.  “So what are you feeling for dinner?  I can make some pasta.  I can do stir fry.  I can whip up a casserole.  What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention.  “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile.  He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to.  “That’s understandable.  I wouldn’t want to be either.  Do you want me to call Tim over?  I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile.  “No, I trust you.  And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back.  “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen.  “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her.  “You should eat though.  What kind of food do you want to try?  There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away.  “I don’t want to order out.  I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again.  “Yeah, that’s reasonable.  Let’s make something together, yeah?  I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter.  How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?  French toast sound good?  I think you call it Lost Bread?  And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded.  “That all sounds amazing.”  She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared.  “Thank you, Jason.  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem.  We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself.  They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again.  Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - night #Jasonette Protection Program

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief, @padaleckimeon donated $100 and requested Dean Jr. meeting Sam and Dean in heaven. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts) 

(read on AO3)

When Dad dies, Dean takes a week off. It wasn’t sudden, or a surprise. Dad had been sick for a while, his body starting to fail him. At first Dean had been scared, and then he’d been angry. He was only twenty-four when Dad got the diagnosis and it wasn’t—fair, in some stupid but essential way. He’d barely graduated from college and, yeah, Dad was kind of old, older than a lot of his friends’ parents, but—he thought, somehow, that him dying just wasn't… applicable. Dad was just—there, always. Solid, supportive, kind of boring maybe but also stronger than anyone Dean had ever known, or would ever know, and it wasn’t right that he could just be sitting in his apartment midway through a novel and get a call and kind of sigh, because he was in a good part in the book, and then to sit up straight with his hair standing on end to hear Dad say, quiet, I'm sorry, buddy. We need to talk about something. That’s what he said, first. That he was sorry.

There were treatments, but not many. Dean had flown out and gone to a few of the appointments with the oncologist and Dad had been quiet, listening to the options. He’d researched a lot of this on his own, because Dean had done the same thing, and they’d both been nodding along during the options. Injections, radiation. Chemo. Dad had asked, polite, what the life expectancy was for each option, and Dean had watched the side of his face and not the doctor, and when the answer was given Dad had closed his eyes briefly, and then looked away from both Dean and the doctor, out the window at the snowy day, and Dean had known, then.

Dad made it past Dean’s twenty-fifth birthday. He had a party with his friends, at his girlfriend’s apartment, and they tried to keep his spirits up but it was a pretty shitty party, all told. The next day, his actual birthday, he flew back out to Dad’s house and he was in good spirits—had a mini-cake, even, with a single candle that he made Dean blow out—but he was thin, and his hair was growing back in snow-white and tender-soft, and when Dad fell asleep in front of the crappy old cowboy movie that Dean had picked just because he knew Dad for some reason liked it, Dean went out onto the porch into the nearly-springtime air and he cried, pissed at himself. Pissed at everything. Then just—unbearably sad, because he liked his current girlfriend but he didn’t think he was going to marry her, and that meant that whatever girl he did marry would be one his dad would never meet—if he had kids, they’d never know how his dad concentrated like a motherfucker on crossword puzzles and obsessed over documentaries and knew every single piece of the inside of that behemoth car in the garage and was just the smartest kindest most stubborn person. Just—the best person. They’d listen to Dean’s stories maybe but they wouldn’t know, because Dad would never meet them, and that was just—unbearable, that night. In the morning, Dad made oatmeal and Dean added a bunch of sugar because Dad’s oatmeal was inedible otherwise, and Dad smiled kind of rueful like he always did when Dean did that, and then Dad said, I’m sorry, again, kind of quiet, and Dean reached out and held his hand—thin, and the bones feeling frail—and he said don’t be sorry, Dad, and four months later, Dad was dead.

Dad was always pretty up-front with him about most everything, especially after he and Mom split up. When he was twelve, Dad explained the supernatural very carefully, telling him that he was safe but that other people might not be, and why. When he was thirteen, Dad told Dean that Hell and Heaven were both real and that there was, definitely, confirmed, a God, and maybe it wasn’t the same God that other people knew but that Dad said he was kind, in his own way. The person in charge of Hell, Dad said, was maybe less so, but she wouldn’t hurt Dean, ever. Dad said he knew that for fact, and he said it so certainly, looking Dean in the eye, that Dean believed him. When Dean turned eighteen, a few months from graduating high school, Dad took him to a tattoo parlor and said for maybe the first time in Dean’s life that something was non-negotiable, and Dean hadn’t cared because what other kid in the senior year was going to walk at graduation with a kickass demonic tattoo?

There were other things, though, that they didn’t talk about. Dad said one day a lot when Dean was little but then, when he was older and it was clear that one day would be never, he just said—I can’t, buddy. I wish I could.

After the week off, rattling around the old house, and the cremation with no service that Dad had insisted on, Dean drives out to the lawyer in Sioux Falls. She’s nice. Respectful but not cloying. The Samuel Winchester Estate that Dean is the sole beneficiary of is—a lot of money. A lot more money than he knew Dad had, or that he could have ever earned. Dad has assigned some of the money to go to charities, and to some people Dean doesn’t know—the lawyer doesn’t say who in the specific, but says they’re kids of some of Dad’s old friends. Dean didn’t know Dad had many friends, much less ones who’d get trust funds in inheritance. Aside from the stock options and the accounts and all the money left over, Dean inherits a list of assets. The house, of course. The Chevy in the garage, with the stipulation that he can never sell it. A safety deposit box, from which the lawyer has already retrieved the contents.

She leaves him alone, to go through the box. Neatly organized, like everything else in Dad’s life. File-folders of pictures, printed out all old-fashioned. Some of Dean when he was a baby. Some of when Dad and Mom were still together, leaning against each other, Dean hugged between them. Some—much older, creased and faded, stored in little plastic sleeves so they can't degrade. He recognizes a few from the framed copies Dad always had in the house. Some he hasn't seen. Most of them—almost all of them—are of his Uncle Dean, who died before he was born, and he looks especially at one that just—hits him in the gut, in this awful way where he has to sit there looking at the soothing taupe paint of the conference room wall before he can look at it again. Uncle Dean's facing the camera, sort of, although he's laughing about something and not really looking into the lens, and there's Dad, laughing too. He looks… young. Younger than Dean is now. He flips the picture over. Dad's handwriting, careful: 2006, Bobby's house. Almost fifty years ago. An entire life he didn't know. He thinks again of his imaginary future kids. These lives they have, grandfather to father to son, that overlap like a venn diagram but—not enough. Not close to enough.

*

What's a life? How to summarize, from beginning to faded end, in a way that would make sense to anyone but who it happened to?

Dad left letters, explaining, but he's gone and the context is missing. There are so many questions Dean wants to ask but he can't, of course, anymore. The first letter is attached to the key to the bunker, where he would never take Dean when he was alive, and on winter break from med school Dean flies from Boston to Kansas and rents a car and drives alone through the snowfields.

Dark, inside. He throws the big switch and the lights crackle, hum on, almost reluctant. He has no idea how it's getting power. Dust, but not as much as there could be. A library, a kitchen. Archives upon archives. Dad had explained, but what little he'd said both in life and in the letters didn't come close. It was home, he wrote, for over a decade. The only one we had with four walls, for our whole lives, although we didn't think of it that way. I didn't, at least. Dean doesn't know what that means but he looks into the bedrooms and sees… emptiness, plain bunks and old desks and funny lamps. I just picked a random room, Dad said, and as Dean's looking he really can't tell which was Dad's. Figures. Their house when Dean was growing up didn't change a bit, no matter how terrible that wallpaper was. It's only when Dean pushes open the door to room 11 that there's any personality, and he flicks the light and stands there blinking, surprised. Guns and knives on the wall. Books, piled up. Empty beer bottles crowded on the little table. Dust, but—not as much as there could be. He walks in, cautious, this feeling in his gut like he's in someone's home and they've just walked out, and could return any moment. A food bowl on the floor. A shirt flung over the chair. On the desk: more books and magazines and a folded actually-on-paper newspaper from 2024, and a job application, half filled out. Dean Winchester, it says at the top, in mostly-neat capitals, and Dean rests a hand on the back of the chair and feels… strange. He tries to picture it—the man from the pictures, Dad's brother, filling up this space. Drinking beer and reading pulp westerns and checking out—oh, weird, magazine porn. Dean shakes his head. Impossible.

In the letters, Dad said: Hunting was all we knew how to do. With everything we knew, it was our duty to use the knowledge the best way we could. I went back and forth on it. Your uncle never did, even if I know there were times he wished he—that we both—could be something else. I don't want that for you. I want you to live exactly the life you want for yourself. No expectations, okay? Not from me or anyone else.

There are printed files that go back a hundred years. More than. Paper files, but old SSDs too, with connectors Dean has to find adapters for. Dad: If you want to know what we did, it's digitized. I know I always said I'd tell you one day, but I never knew how to say it. I'm sorry for that. I always thought I'd be one hundred percent honest, if I ever got a kid, because of how we were raised. I didn't know how hard that could be. Stuff that you'd want to say, but when it came time to just open your mouth and say it there weren't any words.

Dad wrote up all the old hunts, it turned out. Simple notes about where/when/how, the kind of monster it was, the number of people who died and the people who were saved. The people they had to explain things to, who knew now about the supernatural underbelly to the universe. He noted, too, if there were injuries, and Dean reads with his hand over his mouth a long, long litany of Dean W. shot, right arm; Sam W. broken bone in hand; Dean W. concussion; Sam W. strangled. On and on. No wonder Dad didn't make a big fuss when Dean broke his leg in the fourth grade.

He sleeps in the bunker overnight, in one of the spare bedrooms that's not room 11. There's a fan on the ceiling, dusty office supplies on the desk. By lamplight he reads the letters, on his back on the stiff terrible mattress, his eyes stinging and past-midnight tired. Our lives weren't the kind of thing anyone would want, Dad wrote. I spent so long trying to get away from it because I thought 'it shouldn't be this way' – and I was right, you know? It shouldn't have been how it was. But it was that way, anyway, and in the end that was something I was okay with. We were making what difference we could. We were happy. A lot of people have it worse.

'We'. Dad hardly writes Uncle Dean's name but he's in every letter. We, we, we. Dad told Dean stories, of course, the dumb stuff they got up to when they were teenagers, or the (sanitized, Dean's sure) adventures they had as adults, but despite the pictures on the wall at home and the pictures in the deposit box and the whole life that's here, Dean can't—see it. Beer bottles on the table in the bedroom, one on either side of the tiny table. The shirt slung over the chair. We were happy, he says, but—how? Dean can't imagine it.

In the last letter Dad wrote, I think I'm writing this when I've got a month or two left. Dr. Hendricks isn't sure. I wish I had more time, to explain how it was. Who we were. I never told you the most embarrassing thing in the world, but I'm old and I'm not going to be around and not much will be able to embarrass me anymore, so screw it. (Fifty years ago I would have gotten really mad at myself for that kind of comment; more things age can fix.) There are books about us. There's a hard drive, in the bunker. It's labelled BURN THIS. (That's your uncle's handwriting.) They're true, more or less. Written by a really crappy, amateur writer, but he was a kind of prophet, and he knew everything there was to know about us, and he wrote books for about five years, based on our life and the real things we did. Some of it is exaggerated and melodramatic. A lot of it is just how it happened. You'll have to decide which is which. I don't come off too well in some of them but I hope you'll understand that the world… I don't know how to describe it. Somehow the world felt different, then. It was just us, trying our best. I hope it gives you some idea of the life we had. No matter what happened, I'm glad that life led me to you.

*

What's a life?

Dean marries. Not the girl from college but a woman, later. Red hair, blue eyes. Absolutely no sense of humor beyond puns. Hates cooking and has strong opinions on movies from the 1980s. They have three kids, a girl and then a boy and then a girl again. All dark-haired, smart. Dean gives the boy the middle name Samuel and his wife holds his hand, says it sounds great.

He's a doctor. He meets hunters. He sets bones for free and prescribes medication when needed and when it will be needed. A woman, last name Novak, calls him and says you know, your dad was one of the greats?, and he meets people—older than him by twenty, thirty years, with scars and dangerous lives and guns hidden in every corner, and he hears stories. Sam Winchester, who saved the world. Dean knows—he's read the books—but there are more years that the books didn't cover, more people who didn't die because of his dad's intervention. "They were the best," one man says, shrugging, and gets no argument, nods and shrugs from every hunter in the room, and Dean goes home that night and kisses his littlest girl where she's already tucked up in bed, and he thinks: what will she know, about who her grandfather was? Who their family is? What could she possibly know?

Dean's wife dies in her eighties. An accident. A broken hip, an infection following. Still happens, even in this new century. The kids are grown, have kids of their own, and the funeral is big, and there are people at his elbow who say to him we're so sorry and who share anecdotes of her life and who support him to his chair, even though at ninety he's perfectly capable of getting to his chair himself. He's a cranky old man, he realizes. She would've laughed at him. He thinks, inevitably, of his own father's death. Silent and unmourned, except by one. What's a life.

He writes letters, for his children. The estate is handled. He calls the oldest girl and explains to her that she's going to be the executor, and that there are things she has to keep. A key. A car. Pictures, so that her boys will know where they came from. "Of course, Dad," she says, placating a little because he's old and clearly starting to lose his grip, but she'll do it. She's a good kid. Dean learned how to raise a kid from the best.

When he dies, he's expecting it. The trip to the hospital. The monitors. He knows the pain meds even if he's retired and his doctor looks like an infant but she gives him the good stuff. It's—easy. A slipping away. He closes his eyes to sleep and there is a moment where he thinks with surprisingly clarity, this is okay, isn't it, and has the feeling of someone's hand laid on his, and then he sleeps, and doesn't wake up again.

*

He opens his eyes in an armchair, in a house that he doesn't recognize but that feels instantly familiar. Music playing, somewhere, and a gold-tinged afternoon spilling through the window, and tone-deaf singing from the kitchen. His mind feels clearer than it has in… Tears come to his eyes but it doesn't hurt. He puts his fingers to his mouth and smiles, breathing in slow, and thinks—well, this is it. Heaven.

Time is no longer time. Space is—immaterial. There's a house, not their house, but it's roomy and it has what he needs and the bed he crawls into with his wife at the end of a day is comfortable, and that's what matters, as he lays his hand on her hip where he used to lay it always, and she sighs against the pillow and squirms and tucks herself into a fetal pretzel, like she always used to. The spill of her hair red against the pillow. Her warmth, plush against his bones. She smells not of honeysuckle or vanilla but just like warm, human skin, the faint bite of salt-sweat at the nape of her neck, the must in the morning in thin bluish light when she turns over and finds him awake, and smiles. Incredible. The weight of her is real, and the spot between her breasts when he kisses her there is real, and he'd always believed in some distant way that what his dad had told him was true—that there was a heaven, that there would be some kind of justice after death—but it was distant, and academic, because of course there was a life to live and patients to care for and children to raise and a wife to bury and a death to get through. What a thing, to come to. This place, with her hair on the pillow, and her smell. He hadn't forgotten it, in the end, after all.

The house sits in some place that feels like South Dakota. Home, or close to it. A lake among trees. A distance between things. He reads, and plays games he barely remembers from being a kid, and he watches the Ghostbusters movies again because his wife insists and they are, he has to admit, still funny, but he makes fun of the weird museum guy anyway, and she kicks him where her feet are tucked in his lap, and he tickles her in retaliation, and then—well, the movie will be there, later, when they're done.

She rides her bike every day. One day she comes back and says she was just visiting her mother, and Dean sits up and says, "What?" But—of course. What's time? What's a space, between this shared slow heaven and another? She shrugs—his mother-in-law says hi—and he sits there on the couch with his game paused, watching her go into the kitchen and shake her sweaty hair back from her face, redoing it into the practical twist at her neck like she always does, and he thinks—okay. Okay, maybe now.

The bookshelf has every book he could want, and seems to know what he needs to read before he does. Raining outside, spattering gentle on the eaves, and his wife made a huge pot of tea and took it to bed upstairs and left him just a cup, and so he sits at the kitchen table with his cup of tea and opens the book—Home, by Carver Edlund—and reads it, lingering, even if he's read it three times before online, his thumb brushing over the cheap too-thin pages of this physical copy. There's a poltergeist, preposterous. The psychic, odd and familiar. The brothers, united, and he reads the next-to-last chapter very slowly, lingering, as they find the box of pictures, as they get into the car together. Drive off, to meet some new dawning day.

He finishes his cup of tea. Puts on a clean shirt, combs his hair. "I'll be back," he says, to his wife, and she blinks at him from her nest of blankets with her own book and then only nods, and Dean goes downstairs and gets into his car and finds the road, beyond the garden gate, and drives.

He doesn't know where he's going but that doesn't matter. He turns on the car radio and it's playing—oldies, but really oldies, the stuff that was old when he was little. What childhood sounded like. Farms appear, melt away. Trees rising, through hills. He sings along, under his breath, remembering: a roadtrip to his grandma's house, Mom sleeping in the passenger seat and Dad driving through the night, and Dad singing very, very badly, as quiet as he could, and Dean thinking even as a kid that this was some private thing, to see, and he had to be silent and not show that he was awake or it would disappear. That feeling, it crept up on him at the oddest times, when he was an adult, and later. That sensation of the armored tank of the car moving through the dark, and the silence around them, and the quiet music inside, and Dad, in a world of his own, entirely separate from the world he shared with Dean.

Another hill. Climbing a mostly-paved road. Not raining anymore but the sun coming in slanted gold through the trees. Distance, and a curve, and then: a house. Old-looking. Older maybe than the one Dean and his wife share. In front of it, a car. The car.

Dean parks. He gets out, and the air smells washed-fresh, a little fecund. Like summer. He puts his hand on the hood of the Impala and it's sun-warm and he tears up, completely unexpected, and has to sit on the hood and hold his hands over his face, his heart—full, in a way he's felt since dying, but not in this particular way, this way of feeling that he thought had mellowed, a lifetime ago.

So much for putting on a good face. He wipes over his mouth and dashes his eyes clear. A porch, with new-carved railings. A door, painted blue. He knocks, his body feeling empty and clean and young, terribly young, and before he's quite ready the door opens, and it's—his uncle, in a purple plaid shirt and paint-spattered jeans and grey socks, frowning at him, saying, "Uh, hi?"

He looks—almost exactly like he looked in the pictures. Maybe forty, lines beside his eyes and heavy stubble on his jaw. The age he was when he died. Dean opens his mouth, can hardly dredge up what to say, and then he hears a voice say, "Dean?" and Dean and his uncle both turn their heads to see—Dad, young too, completely shocked, standing on the far side of the porch in running gear with sweat slicking his hair back from his head, and Dean drags in air and says, "Dad," and Dad grins at him, that big creased dorky-looking dad-smile that Dean only got once in a blue moon, and he steps forward and they're hugging, then, and it's—heaven. That's all he can think. Heaven, Dad's arms tight around him, his shoulders slotting in under Dad's because—Dad was so tall, and this is where Dean fit and never would fit again once Dad was gone. Here, under Dad's arm. Like being a kid again.

Dad's hand on the back of his head. A startled, shaky, deep breath in, and then hands gripping his shoulders, and being shoved reluctantly back to have Dad look down at his face, serious and worried. "How long has it been?" he says. "Are you—you didn't—?"

"I was ninety-seven," he says, and Dad's eyebrows go high and he smiles, big and glad and real, relieved. He touches Dean's face and Dean smiles back, tears rising again for no reason and for so many reasons. "I look good, don't I?"

Dad huffs a laugh. "You look great," he says, and then his eyes lift over Dean's head, and Dean has to turn around because—

What to call him? Uncle Dean. Standing there with his shoulder against the doorframe, his mouth tucked in on one side. Like from right out of one of the pictures, returning Dad's look. His eyes drop after a second to meet Dean's and Dean feels this odd jolt, in his chest. Bizarre, to see. He's real. All Dad's stories, the wall of memories, the books, and here he is, in grey socks, looking all over Dean's face like he's seeing it for the first time. "Guess you got your looks from your mom's side of the family," Uncle Dean says, finally, and Dad says, behind him, "Nice, dude," and Uncle Dean shrugs, unrepentant, but with an unexpected dimple quirking into his cheek, and holds out his hand to shake, and Dean takes it and has another shock at it, warm, callused, firm, real—while Uncle Dean says, wry, "Well, I guess some introductions are in order, huh?"

Uncle Dean and Dad share the house. It's nice, inside. Old fashioned in a way that feels comfortable, as Dean's come to expect. (He wonders, in a few hundred years—will new arrivals to heaven expect old-fashioned arcologies?) Uncle Dean brings beers from the kitchen and Dad takes his without even looking, drinking in Dean's face when Dean's doing the exact same to him. He looks so young. Younger, maybe, than he was even in the few pictures Dean has of him being a baby, held tiny in the crook of Dad's massive arm—some past time, some time Dean doesn't belong to, but Uncle Dean clearly does. Dad shakes his head after a few seconds, huffs again, rueful. "I don't even know where to start," he says.

Uncle Dean rolls his eyes, behind him, and says, "How about you ask the kid how he's doing, genius." Mean, but he squeezes Dad's shoulder too, and Dad bites his lip, looks at Dean, his head tipping. Asking.

It's awkward, but only in the way Dean would expect. To see his dad after so long—and both of them dead—and to explain… what? A life. Being a doctor, meeting a wife. Children. Grandchildren. "Great-grandpa Sammy," Uncle Dean fake-whispers, "told you you were old." Nudging Dad, half-sitting on the arm of his chair. Looking proud enough he could burst, although Dean doesn't know exactly why.

"Are you going to make dinner or are you just here to heckle?" Dad says, looking up, exasperated, and Uncle Dean raises his hands, says, "Oh, I'm here to heckle," but he gets up, too, says, "You get tired of the inquisition, kid, we've got more drinks in the kitchen," and cuffs Dad around the back of the head before he disappears down the blue-painted hall—and music comes on, after a moment. The kind of music that was on Dean's radio as he drove. Comfort sounds that go deep into some space beyond his bones.

"He's a lot, sorry," Dad says, after a second.

"I know, I read about it," Dean says, and Dad blinks at him, mouth half-open, before he remembers.

They have dinner. Uncle Dean makes burgers, fries, a spinach salad that Dean and Dad both groan at, and he looks at them across the table with his burger in his hands and shakes his head. No salad on his plate, Dean notices. They talk but about—nothing. Uncle Dean asks if the Broncos ever won the Superbowl again and Dean tries to dredge up an answer. Dad asks what his wife did for a living. Dean wants to ask things and doesn't know how. There's time, he knows, but for now all he can do is—watch. Dad leaning back in his chair with a beer, smiling at him while Uncle Dean tells some probably well-worn story about trying to fix the Impala in a rainstorm, and Dad was pissed for some reason and so kept handing him the wrong tools. "It was too dark to actually read the grip numbers," Dad says, patient like it's the hundredth time, and Uncle Dean says back, immediately, "Who needs the numbers? You can feel the weight in your hand!" Old arguments, well-worn, in the well-worn house. The way they move around each other, washing dishes, putting plates away. The way Dad's eyes will jump across the table, half a second before Uncle Dean's even opening his mouth, a smile already waiting to be pushed back down.

When it's night he says he should get back to his wife. "I'd like to meet her," Dad says, "some day."

"Gotta see who's willing to put up with a Winchester," Uncle Dean says, eyebrows waggling.

Dad sighs but nods, too. Dean gets folded into a hug, there under the tuck of his arm, and then he hugs Uncle Dean, too, impulsive and just—wanting to, feeling like a kid. Uncle Dean startles but hugs him back right away. "You're good, kid," he says, quiet against the side of Dean's head, and Dean nods and says, "Thanks," for more than he can say other than that, right then on this particular day, and then he gets into his car and pulls away from the house and looks back to see Uncle Dean gripping Dad's shoulder again while they watch him move away—and when he's home, after a blurring drive that's long enough for him to settle himself, he comes up the stairs to where his wife's warm in bed and slides in beside her and she says, sleepy, "How was it," and he says against her hair, "Perfect," because—it was. It was perfect.

*

Dean comes alone to their house twice more, on days when he needs it and doesn't see a reason not to. He brings his wife, the third time, and Dad's extremely polite and Uncle Dean asks her about engineering and Dean enjoys it, from the couch, while she gets the same interrogation he did, and they're driving home with her at the wheel, his eyes on the passing trees, before she says, "They're an interesting couple," and it doesn't strike him, for what may be a mile of blurring distance, why that sentence wasn't quite right.

It should be a shock. It isn't. That it isn't should, itself, be a shock, but he sits with it for a few days, the easy rhythm of heaven sliding around them.

He goes to see his mother, finally. She's in a place on a lakeshore. Her first husband, kind but remote, giving them space. She presses his hands between her own and he goes through the list of answers to all her questions, smiling, feeling déjà vu, and then says, cautious, that he's been to see Dad. "Oh!" she says, and doesn't seem upset. "How is he?"

"Good," he says. They never married, his parents—Dad had told him, much later, that it just didn't occur to him to ask—and he knew they didn't resent each other, but there wasn't much closeness there. He didn't realize how little until he was married himself. Still, he's cautious as he says: "He and my uncle have a place. Uncle Dean, you know?"

Mom sits back in her chair. "Well, then," she says, soft. She's youngish, too. Fifty maybe, her hair shot with grey. "That sounds about right."

He doesn't know how to ask but there's no way to do it other than just—to ask. "What do you know about him?"

Mom smiles, slow, and looks out at the lake. "Honey, your dad's a good man, but I think you know as well as I do that he doesn't give a lot away." Dean follows her look. A boat, far out on the water. Not close enough to hail. "He didn't talk about his brother, much. That said more than I think he knew it did. All those pictures. Well, you remember." She shakes her head, looking down at her lap. "I resented him for a while. A dead man. Silly of me. But then I suppose your dad could have resented Luke, if he'd—cared more. Sorry. That sounds like I'm angry, but I'm not. There just wasn't much left in Sam, that's all. He loved you and he loved someone that wasn't here anymore and there just wasn't room for me, or at least not room for what I needed. I wished I could've known him. Dean, I mean. I would've understood your dad a lot more, I think, but then—I don't think I would've ever met him, if Dean were around."

When he gets home he pulls a book off the shelf. Frail, the spine cracked badly. Supernatural, the first book in the whole series. When Dad was at college and the whole thing started. He sits on the floor by the bookshelf and lets the cup of tea his wife brings go cold on the rug, and reads again and again the scene—coming down the stairwell, finding the car in the garage, going through the details of the voice on the tape, on where their dad (Dean's grandfather) could possibly be, and Dad says there's this interview he can't skip. His whole future, on a plate. In the story, it's Dad's point of view, and he looks at Uncle Dean and Uncle Dean smirks, and Dad thinks, This is exactly what I was getting away from. Dean drags his thumb over the page, looks at the shelf. All those books. All the years in them, and the horrors in those. Hell, and apocalypse, and none of it euphemisms or easy metaphor. All the things Dad wanted to get away from—and then all the years, after, where he stayed exactly where he was. And then—a lifetime later—to come back home to a house, with a blue door, and his eyes not bothering to follow his brother as he leaves a room, because he knows without doubt that he'll be back.

In bed, he asks his wife, "When do you think the kids will get here?" and she turns over and stares at him, and says, "Hopefully not for years?"

He shakes his head, folds his arm under his head. "Duh," he says, and gets her to punch his chest lightly. "Ow. I meant… I don't know. What do you think their lives will be? Like… who will they be? I can't even imagine."

She stops trying to lightly beat him and goes thoughtful. Her thumb finds the little scar on her chin and rubs it, as is her habit, and her eyes slip over his shoulder to the distance. "They'll be—them." He raises his eyebrows, and she shrugs, rolling closer. "I mean, what do you want from me? I knew Abbie for fifty-one years and I still think that girl's a mystery. When she's… probably a grandmother herself, now, I guess. Is she still at Notre Dame? Are she and Andre happy? Are the boys healthy and do they like each other, and did she ever get Jacob to stop drawing cartoon dicks on the walls?" Dean laughs—god, he'd forgotten that—and she smiles at him, props her head on one fist. Says, softer, "Did she live the life she wanted to have? I don't know. I guess when she gets here we can ask her, but we'll never…"

No, they'll never. Dean touches the scar on her chin and she focuses on him, instead of some other world they're no longer privy to. "It's a venn diagram," he says, after a moment. "All of us. Abbie, overlapping with you and me, and then us overlapping with our parents, and on and on, all the way back. I guess we don't get to know what's outside the center parts."

"Even if there's a hundred and four crappily-written books about the other parts," she says, raising her eyebrows, and Dean shrugs, caught. She grins, shaking her head at him, and then squirms in close, tucking in under his chin. Kisses his throat, sighs. "Why not stop at a hundred? Seems random."

"I don't know, maybe the publisher wanted him to stretch it out," Dean says, and she hums, and puts her nose on his collarbone to settle in. He smooths her hair back, away from her shoulder. His favorite book is Swan Song, probably. The final one, as far as most people knew. His dad, the hero, saving humanity and the world, but that wasn't the best part. The best part was the army man, stuck in the door. His dad, looking at that, and meeting his brother's eye, and that being—enough. Just that, and all the life it represented. Enough.

"Venn diagrams," he says, aloud, quietly.

"Yes, you're very brilliant, Dr. Winchester," his wife says, mumbling. "Now go to sleep."

He kisses her hair, and does.

#ffcc #wincest #dean jr #my writing #this is again just sort of a collection of paragraphs #and it's--mostly what you asked for i think? #but mainly it's me musing about the unknowability of parents and children #so uh #that's what i was able to manage #hopefully i'll remember how to construct a story soon lol