Poems, short stories and fanfiction, as well as ideas and characters for my (eventual) book. Pretty much anything I write ends up on this blog. Feel free to follow the link below to check out my main as well. PFP drawn by muse-42
some people think this is a shitpost so i want to clarify that i am dead fucking serious. make mage the official gender neutral honorific NOW. i want it on my passport. i want it on my bank account. i want doctors and judges to use it for me. i don't care if it sounds a little silly. people thought "missus" sounded crass at first. call me mg.
What if Buffy's mom hadn't found out about slaying at the end of season 2 and Buffy had to convince Spike to stay in town and pretend to be in a band with her because that was the cover story they'd told Joyce
Low key I feel like Buffy would just see it as a cover and itâs a âfake bandâ but Spike gets like way into it and itâs a Real Bandâąïž to him and heâs a little annoyed Buffy doesnât take it as seriously. Heâs always like âyou missed practice this Tuesday what the hellâs up with that. We have a gig next week btwâ
#he starts trailing after her on patrol to bitch about missing practice or how she's sloppy on her chords #starts pitching in on the slayage because vampires keep interrupting his tirades #''EXCUSE ME we are having a ROW'' *stakes fledgling* #no chip necessary spike is literally the guy in the band with zero chill about the band #he undeads the band. he unbreathes the band. he spends all his time not sleeping... on the band. #(willow is their manager xander is the merch guy) #(giles was secretly plotting to lure spike into a trap until he notices spike is... actually better at corralling buffy on patrol than he is #because spike doesn't want her injuring her hands or doing anything that fucks with her breath control) #(giles is also weak to the nostalgia of it all and tunes their instruments when he thinks they're not looking) #(when faith arrives mid-S3 she's quickly recruited to sing backup) (via @entirelytookeen)
#spike after learning Oz plays guitar: why Ä°sn't he in the band? #buffy: he's already in his own band. which is actually a real band unlike our fake band that you keep forgetting is just a cover story #spike: we're never going to make it in the music industry if you don't stop calling our band fake
Spike (with reluctant but knowledgeable backup from Giles) finally convinces her that "Slayer" risks bringing copyright lawyers down upon their heads, a fate worse than vampires
#Buffy at their next concert: hi this is my Fake band and you're at my Fake concert#Fake band fans go NUTS when the Fake lead singer pulls her signature move: peacing out mid-song to go beat up some guys out back#Meanwhile: extended guitar and drum solos#the fans eat. that. gimmick. up.#Buffy returning covered in blood an hour later: oh god you're still going. Okay Fake second song here we go#and the crowd goes WILD
Frankly, youâd known those idiots had had a kid for years now. Youâd pretended not to, because while youâd committed a lot of atrocities in your life, you werenât willing to face the moral quandary of whether you would knowingly kill a child just to spite its parents.
They probably thought they were being clever though, what with the blaming you for an injury you knew damn well youâd never given keeping one of them out of commission for a few months, then references to what they would âleave behindâ or âcould not followâ when in the latest death trap. One of them had accidentally pulled a pacifier out of their utility belt once, and tried to pass it off as being prepared for any young children they came across while rescuing.
Idiots.
Still, you had standards. Standards that fell somewhere past war crimes and before common decency, but they were standards.
I really wish there was a way Uncle Aaron lived and came back to meet his âhusbandâ at some point now.
Aaron: âŠMilesâŠI love you, and I am proud of youâŠbut you are somehow the smartest and dumbest boy I have ever known.
Miles: Says the man who used his big brain to become a criminal when he couldâve been a black Tony Stark with that gear he made. And thought working for the Kingpin, who everyone knows will throw his minions away like tissues, was a good idea!
Peter: He makes a good point, babe, you did kind of mess up firstâ
Aaron: Call me babe again and see what happens. Iâll whoop you with a collapsed lung.
sigh. just another day scrubbing the floor and mowing the lawn and dusting and doing the laundry for the rest of my pack. but the house has to be in especially perfect shape today because Alpha Jameson has an important meeting with another Alpha from across the river. If they come to an agreement, the Newport and Cincinnati packs might finally have peace for the first time in decades. No more fightingâŠ.But they say the Newport Alpha is the most ruthless wolf whoâs ever lived. Can our hotheaded Alpha really find a compromise with a man like that? I have to hope for the bestâŠwith a deal between our packs, the months of new business negotiations will have everyone so busy, they wonât have time to push me around. Alpha Jameson might even be too distracted to think about me. The thought is almost too good to be true. Iâve been his scapegoat to treat like trash ever since he and my younger sister claimed each other as mates. There was a time when we were kids when it was me on his arm at dinners and parties. But then we grew up, andâŠ..I never got my Wolf. Iâm a freak, and everyone knows it. Of course he couldnât stay with me. Not that Iâd want to be with him now anyway. These days he canât even say my name without spitting it. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I never get my Wolf, and I get banished to live among humans. But then I remember my childhood best friend. She was so prettyâbrown eyes, with brunette hair she always wore in a bun. I was homeschooled with my pack, of course, and she went to the local high school. We met at the libraryâŠ.our shared sanctuary. She didnât have any other friends, and neither did I. We hung out every chance we got. Until one day when we were 16âŠher brother told me she was gone. I found out that their mom gave her away to a boy band, and I havenât seen her since. Thatâs when I realized the human world is just as ruthless as the wolfen. No, banishment wouldnât be better. But I donât know how much longer Iâll survive this place either. Most days, keeping my head down and doing what Iâm told isnât enough to keep me out of trouble.
But things could be worse. Yesterday I overheard my sister talking to Beta Devon about the deal Alpha Jameson is making with the Newport Alpha. Apparently, heâs requested a woman from our pack as his mate. With his reputation, I could almost feel bad for whoever Alpha Jameson chooses for him, even though the women in our pack treat me even worse than the men. Iâm an embarrassment to them because I donât have my Wolf.
Whatever. At least I know it wonât be me, because Iâm not important enough to be married offâŠâŠ..
everyone saying that they can hear the MCâs voice so clearly. Thatâs because I didnât write this. I channeled her voice through myself as a vessel. Sheâs out there somewhere.ïżŒ
funny you should mention it because Iâm channeling the MC again right now and she met the Newport Alpha today. Her stomach was in her throat when she found out that he requested her, specifically. Whatever sheâll have to endure will almost be worth the look on Alpha Jamesonâs face when he was forced to acknowledge that someone actually wants herâthat someone outside of her pack even knows her name.
Still, the satisfaction was fleeting when it finally sank in that sheâs leaving with the most ruthless Wolf this side of Louisville. Is she simply out of the pan and into the fire?
Not so much. In fact, the Newport Alpha is cold as ice. He hasnât spoken a single word to her in the hour since they met and left Cincinnati on his sleek, burnt-sienna Ecosse ES1 Spirit.
Could he really have asked for her, specifically? What if heâd asked for someone else and they sent her instead, as a consolation prize? What ifâŠ
What if he asked for someone else, and they lied about who she was? Oh god. Would she have to pretend to be Payton or Sabrina to maintain peace and to keep her own head attached to its neck? She might be able to pull that offâŠfor a week.
Does he even know what she isâwhat she isnât. Did Alpha Jameson or her sister tell him she doesnât even have her Wolf? Maybe the Alpha can sense that on his ownâŠ
Theyâve stopped for gas, and he still hasnât said a word. But he when he goes inside for an energy drink, he comes back out with sweet-tarts ropesâher favorite. Itâs such a random candy too. How could he have possibly known that? A lucky guess?
They share an impossibly familiar look for just a moment as he hands her the candy. Then heâs astride the motorcycle again.
She wishes she had something other than him to hold onto as they speed southbound on 471. Despite herself, her arms are wrapped around his waist, and she tucks her forehead against his broad back so the wind wonât sting her eyes.
His carhartt jacket smells faintly of clove cigarettes. His hair smells like apricot shampoo from the dollar general. The specificity of the scent catches her off guard as they cross the bridge into Newport. Why would she recognize the brand? More importantly: why would a wealthy Alpha buy his hair products from a dollar store?
And why is she even thinking about his shampoo to begin with? She needs to be preparing herself for her first night in her new life. It could be anything. She needs to be smart. She needs to be on guard.
And yetâŠshe canât stop thinking about his brown eyes. Something in them is soâŠ.impossiblyâŠ..familiar. It just doesnât make any sense.
That's very kind, but again I'm not writing this. I'm having visions and ecstasies where I see through the eyes of the MC. In fact......I'm being overcome now......
We've been driving for a long time now, well past Newport's city limits. At some point, we got off the highway, and I counted streetlights blurring by until we started passing trees instead. We're out somewhere in the woods now. I tell myself that I'll get my bearings the next time we stop, but we just drive on and on.
We blow through an intersection in the middle of nowhere, and I try to catch the name of whatever county road we must be on, but it's too dark, and we're driving too fast. The Newport Alpha doesn't seem to care about stop signs or speed limits.
Why would he? We could crash into a tree going 100 miles per hour, and he'd be okay. Not me, though. Inhuman powers of strength and healing are reserved for those with a Wolf.
I bite my lip and wonder again if he knows about me. If he does, I guess that means he wouldn't care if we took a turn too fast and I fell off the back of this bike and died. If he doesn't....
I shake my head. There's no way Alpha Jameson and my sister could've kept this secret. If they did, and he doesn't take it well when he finds out....
My stomach twists when I think about what might happen to me. No. Alpha Jameson needs this to go well. No matter how much he hates meâno matter how much sick pleasure he'd get if I were torn to shreds in a bad business deal. The Newport Alpha wanted a mate from our pack. Not even Beta Devon would be stupid enough to try to cheat such a powerful Alpha with some Wolfless loser.
He could have asked for any of the unmated women in our pack. Sabrina and Chelsea would have thrown one of their legendary tantrums if Alpha Jameson tried to give one of them away, but I saw Payton preening in every reflective surface she passed this morning. She wanted to look good for the Newport Alpha, and she did look good. She was taller and prettier than meâblonder, with better clothes and makeup. They all were.
Why didn't he want any of them. What does he want with me?
I'm so lost in thought, I didn't even notice that we'd turned down a long driveway until we stop.
He cuts the engine, but I still feel like I'm vibrating. I'm not used to riding on motorcycles. I'm really not even used to leaving the house. My arms feel like jello, still wrapped awkwardly around his waist.
The Newport Alpha suddenly gets upâso fast that I don't even have time to let go. His body drags mine sideways, and I brace myself to land on the gravel driveway.
But I don't. He catches me by my arm and pulls me onto my feet.
"Thanks," I say, at the same time he says, "Sorry."
It's the first thing he's said to me since we met hours ago. I know I look surprised when our eyes meet. Those brown eyes...
We stare at each other for so long, it starts to hurt. I'm not used to anyone acknowledging me unless it's followed by an insult or a slap. I can't take the eye contact, so I look down at my old Sperry shoesârejects that Sabrina threw away.
He lets go of my arm and says "sorry" again.
"It's okay...." I say. My voice is so quiet. I hate it, but I don't know how to be any louder. I'm barely ever allowed to talk.
The Newport Alpha doesn't seem to care. He says, "I know this probably isn't what you were expecting, but I thought you might be more comfortable with a little privacy tonight."
I look up and realize he's talking about the house, a little cabin surrounded by trees. He's right, it's not what I expected. When my sister told me that Alpha Jameson was giving me away to the most ruthless Wolf in the tri-state area, I didn't really picture woodland cottages. It's not even as big as the garage where Beta Devon keeps those stupid, expensive cars he loves so much.
I don't know what to say, so I whisper, "It's fine."
The Newport Alpha grins. I don't know why he'd care so much what I think of his house, but I'm glad I made him happy. Things will be easier for me if he's in a good mood.
He says, "Yeah? Are you sure? I just thought it might be kinda overwhelming for you to meet the entire pack tonight, you know?"
"Yeah," I say, because I have no idea what else to say. Nobody's ever considered my feelings like that before, let alone gone out of the way to accommodate them.
"Well, uh, want to go in? It's kinda cold out here, huh?"
He's looking me up and down, and I feel exposed in my plain blue jeans and hand-me-down Hollister v-neck sweater.
"Sure," I say.
I follow him up the front porch steps. He opens the door, and I wait for him to go first, but then I realize he's waiting for me to go first. So I do.
This time, it is what I'm expecting. The cabin is decorated like a little hunting lodge. I've never been in one, but I've seen them in movies and TV shows. The walls are wood panel, and they're covered in antlers and trophy fish.
"Bedroom's over there." He points to a door on my left, then to one on the right. "Bathroom's there."
I'm eyeing a rack with three rifles hanging beside the door, and he must notice, because he says, "They're not loaded."
When I don't say anything, he keeps talking. "I bought this place a few years ago, and I haven't really gotten to redecorating. Those came with the place. Besides, who needs a gun to kill a deer?"
He grins, and I notice for the first time how sharp some of his teeth are. It's nothing like ours in my pack.
"Hey, I'm just kidding," he says. I guess he can tell I'm a little freaked out. "I'm a fishing guy, anyway."
"Oh," I say. "Ha."
I don't know why I even tried to laugh. It sounds more pathetic than I even usually do. He's frowning at me, and I panic a little. What am I thinking??? This is my new Alpha. Laughing at his stupid jokes will be the least of my duties to him. Pack members who don't play along never last long. I need to get it together.
"Well," he says. "Why don't we call it a night?"
He looks me up and down again. "Is that all you have?"
He means the clothes I'm wearing. I can feel myself turning bright red. Everything happened so fast today, I didn't have time to pack even my few belongings.
"Yeah," I say. "It's...okay. I....always sleep in jeans."
He cocks his head and looks at me like he'll call my bluff. I bite my lip. There's something in his face. He looks somehow....sad. I have no idea what to do with that. But then he smiles.
"Okay then, " He kicks off his timberland boots and pads across the room in his socks. I watch him lie down on the old, 1980s velour couch. "Good night."
I don't move. What am I supposed to be doing right now? I wait for some command. It feels like an eternity passes before he sits up and says, "Sorry, do you need something?"
I shake my head. He stares at me for a moment and says, "Huh. Well...sweet dreams?"
I still have no idea what he wants from me. I have no idea what to say, and then he says, "Sorry. I have no idea what you want from me right now..."
It catches me so off guard, I actually laugh. A real laugh. Then he laughs. His laugh is loud and confident, and it makes his broad chest rise and fall under his tight, black t-shirt.
He laughs longer than I do, and then I say, "I don't know where I'm supposed to go...tonight?"
"Oh!" He says, smiling. "The bedroom's all yours! There are fresh sheets. It's a little cold, but it'll warm up in here soon. I just switched from wood to solar, and it's been a whole thing, you know?"
I don't know. I just say, "Okay, thanks," and then I wander awkwardly to the bedroom.
But I stop in the doorway. I don't know why, but I suddenly feel a little bold. I want to say something other than oh and yeah, but I have no idea what.
He's looking at me like he knows I'm trying to get the courage to talk.
So I just ask, "What's your name?"
"Oh!" He laughs again. "I can't believe I never said. It's Yale. Yale Northland. It's kind of a weird name, though, isn't it?"
I don't know what to say. Am I supposed to agree with him? Would that be rude?
He says, "So my friends just call me by my initials, Y.N."
"Okay, Y.N.," I say. Then I have nothing else to say, so I say, "Goodnight," and I shut the door behind me.
The bedroom looks just like the living room, with wood panel walls and random woodsy knickknacks. The bed is huge. It takes up most of the room, and it's covered in old, homemade quilts. I've never seen anything like them. They're so....cozy. I pull them back, and the sheets are red flannel with patterns of little black pine trees and bears printed on them.
I take off my jeans, because I actually don't want to sleep in them, and I climb into the gigantic bed. Thew Newport Alpha is nothing like what anyone said he'd be.
He seems so normal. I can't help feeling like there's something I'm missing. Like, tomorrow, I'll wake up and he'll be the cruel, ruthless Wolf my sister told me about.
My stomach twists, but not even the fear is enough to keep me awake after such a long day. I try to stay awake, but the cabin is so quiet, and the bed is so warm, I drift off to sleep...
Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene theyâre writing* babe, iâm not sure if this would actually work?
Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, youâre doing great
I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? Itâd be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it theyâre a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so itâs completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work.
Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and itâs a big hit. Enough so that a detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that thereâs something to the theory, but itâs all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the authorâs home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they donât seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, thatâs it. Most they do is leave for groceries.
So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough heâll FINALLY have proof.
They stole you from your world when you were but a young girl, and they forged you into a magical weapon that has been feared across the cosmos. Now that the war is over and youâve won, they send you back to the moment before they captured you. The skills, PTSD, and memories? Those never fade.
Teardrops stain my drawing, smudging the crayon markings that are as blue as drowned lips eating birthday cake.
âAre you going to have another tantrum?â Miss Daisy asks. âI thought you had gotten used to mommy leaving?â
Of course I cried that morning. It was the first time seeing my mother in decades and she had nothing on her mind but the early meeting she could not be late for. âIâm sorry, miss.â
She hands me a tissue. âBig girls donât cry.â She looks at the picture. âAre you drawing a dolphin, dear?â
I shrug. Iâm not sure what Iâm doing. In Alfheimr there was no use to drawing. My fingers are so used to writing letters and numbers that I find it hard to draw. But the colour speaks to me.
I remember a birthday cake, covered in blue frosting and topped with seven candles. Susan smiled as she blew them out. Nobody needed to guess her wish but we made silly guesses anyway. We were laughing in the hollow expanse of Alfheimrâs dining hall, and for a moment we forgot about the thousands of other tables in the hall celebrating birthdays that day. It was just the twenty of us, formed into unbreakable hĂŠr, making a home for ourselves.
But then Iâm also thinking of Susan turning white under icy waves when her önd was not strong enough to keep her warm. Nineteen terrified hands reaching for her as she sunk away, her smile now as permanently etched on her face as in my memories of her.
We begged our seggr to slow down and she refused. We cried that we just needed more time to learn. But time was the one thing that was in short supply. The loss of life was not only a calculated risk, but a guaranteed expectancy. No gradual awakenings for us. We were thrown into the deep and we would either sink or swim.
There were so many girls, and they needed only one queen.
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo weâve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and itâs revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
What about the one with the princess locked in a tower learning to become a wizard? Thatâs lived in my mind for years and I havenât seen it in a long time
Oh, love that story, adding it to the list:
20. Princess Talia
and adding a few more contenders
21. Thyme
22. The Monster under the Bed
23. A Meaningful Death
24. Humans are unstoppableâŠuntil they arenât
25. The Monster under the Fridge
26. Antler Guy
27. Cleric slamming healing spells
Adding a few more I remembered:Â
28. The Frog and the Scorpion
29. HSTHETE
30. The First Witch in the World
31. Imagine that Oceans were replaced by ForestsÂ
32. A Faerie taking a NameÂ
33. The Dragon on the FarmÂ
34. Synovus & MenaceÂ
35. Raising the Anti-ChristÂ
36. Aliens vs. Flora & Fauna of Earth (pretty sure there are even more additions to the original post but I had this one saved)Â
37. Doctors without BordersâŠin Space!Â
38. The Villain-WranglerÂ
39. The Last ContactÂ
40. The 100 Parent-Point ChildrenÂ
41. And the Heavens WeptÂ
42. The Night GentlemanÂ
43. The Serpent God and their PriestessÂ
I can hardly take any credit for these stories! But I love sharing them. Unfortunately I cannot read all the prompt responses so please tag me if you want me to reblog a story that resonated with you so I can give it a little boost :)
âwe didnât know any better,â the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. âwhat do we do now?â
âkill it,â the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes.
âwe canât,â the first mate says desperately, praying she wonât have to fight her captain on this. âwe canât. we - i wonât. we wonât.â
âi know.â
x
âdaddy,â she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, âdaddy, la-la, la-la-la.â
her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isnât made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasnât even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her.
âdaddy,â she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor.
âdonât worry,â he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing.
x
âfather,â she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, âwhy am I here?â
âyour mother abandoned you,â he says, as he always has. âwe found you adrift, and couldnât bear to leave you there.â
she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. âalright,â she says.
x
âwhy am I really here?â she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam.
âwe didnât know any better,â the first mate says, staring into the water. âwe didnât know- we didnât know anything. we didnât understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.â
she wants to be furious, but she canât. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her fatherâs eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she canât hate her family.
âitâs alright,â she says. âi do have a family, anyways. i donât think i would have liked my other life near as much.â
x
her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. âi donât mind,â she says, when the captain fusses over her, ânow i match all of you.â
the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. âwe shouldnât fight him,â she says, peering through the spyglass.
âwhy not?â the mermaid asks.
âheâll win,â the first mate says.
the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. âare you sure?â she asks.
x
the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her.
âdonât worry,â she says, with a bright laugh, âit was fun.â
x
the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they canât possibly fight them, and they donât have the time to escape.
âlet me up,â the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. âbring me up, quickly, quickly.â
they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but sheâs so heavy they can barely lift parts of her.
she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings.
the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone.
x
she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea.
x
âyou know we are dying,â the captain says, looking down at her.
she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise.
âi know,â she says, âi can feel it coming.â
the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaidâs deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time.
âwe love you,â the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either.
âi love you too,â the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time.
âguard the ship,â the captain says. âyou always have but you know theyâre lost without you.â
âwithout you,â the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. âwhat will we do?â
âi donât know,â the captain says. âbut youâll help them, wonât you?â
âof course i will,â she scoffs, rolling her eyes. âi will always protect my family.â
x
the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid.
âyou know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,â she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock.
the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. âis that so?â she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy.
âthey said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,â the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a momentâs hesitation. âi always thought they were telling tall tales.â
âand now?â
âthey were right,â the new captain says. âhow did they ever befriend you?â
the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. âthey didnât know any better.â
Thatâs right! Here you go. Iâll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there!
So I read the story @dragonsateyourtoast wrote and fell in love with it. Iâve been practicing bookbinding lately and made myself a physical copy of Calliopeâs Tale. Itâs 172 pages total :) Iâm stuck on what to do for a cover since I donât have anything big enough to use, but for now I think itâs lovely without one. I will definitely wear this out reading it over and over again.
Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.
This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.
You are on the moon. You have a job to do. That job requires the other Guy, so it would really fuck things up if you killed them with a rock.
1-2 players.
The task is simple: go out and fix something. Youâve done it before, and if you make it through today, youâll never have to do it again. That is to say, youâve been out here for six months already and if you spend another second with this Guy you think you might snap.Â
You have a task. The progress of this task is represented by a d12, starting at 1. When this die reaches 12 the task is completed and you get to go home.
You must maintain your cool. Your Cool is represented by a d6, starting at 6. If this die ever reaches 1, you snap and kill the other Guy with a rock. Please avoid killing the other Guy with a rock.
Every round, both Guys roll a d6. If both Guys roll less than their current remaining Cool, the Task Progress increases by 1. If a Guy rolls more than or equal to their current remaining Cool, their Cool is reduced by 1.
I was going to title this "If There Were Two Guys On The Moon", but I thought that having the intro paragraph be the full title was funny. anyway I don't know if anyone else took you up on the concept back when you suggested it, or if anyone else has done it here, but I did it a while back, never posted it, saw this, and then edited down to 200 words.
the original included an event table to roll on every round, but the main mechanic was always the frustration-induced/feeding death spiral, so I pared it down to just that. there is a small amount of the original humor still there, but mostly I'm glad I could keep the intro paragraph and "Please avoid killing the other Guy with a rock".
I saw that this was completely luck-based and apparently had nothing better to do so I whipped up some Python code to play this game one hundred thousand times. (Well, maybe "whipped up" is an exaggeration; the whole thing took upwards of 40 minutes for me to program. It'd been a while since I'd done Python.) Here are some of my observations:
Quickest and easiest question to answer: How hard is this game? Pretty hard. 7% chance of victory, 93% chance of defeat. Someone's probably gonna get smashed with a rock.
Most games last between seven and twelve rounds. 3% of games lasted the minimum length of five rounds, meaning at least one Guy just never kept their cool and bashed the other Guy's head in at the earliest opportunity. Exactly 5 games of the hundred-thousand lasted the maximum length of nineteen rounds. (Predictably, all five of these games were losses.)
In the likely event of a loss, it was common that one of the Guys was actually quite chill. 25% of losses occurred with one player at a full 6 Cool. Still, though, 5.6% of losses (5.2% of games overall) ended with Full Rage, by which I mean that both Guys bashed each others' skulls in at the exact same time.
A similar trend can be seen with wins; generally both people are chill. There's a bit of a feedback loop, as you might expect, so victory with low Cool values was uncommon. Still, a full 10 games ended with victory for two Guys with 2/6 Cool, just about to snap and kill each other.
In line with the previous paragraph, winning games typically ended early. Over 26% of winning games just involved no betrayal at all, and another 27% had exactly one round during which a Guy did not cooperate.
My apologies to @moon-of-curses if this was not her intended method of interacting with the game. If it's any consolation, I have had a lot of fun.
Random goon: Hey boss, were you the one to pick that name as an alias? And why this one?
Red Hood : I used to have another name, before... A long time ago. But that person is dead now. I get to choose for myself now, they can't take that from me. I won't let them.
Goon: Huh.
***
Random Goon: Say boss, why do you never take off your shirt in front of us?
Red Hood: Well uh, I actually have that really fucked scar on my chest and I'm not comfortable with...
Random Goon: Don't worry boss, we get it, you don't have to explain yourself to us.
***
Red Hood, high on some toxin: God, I wish my family...
Random Goon (on boss-sitting duty): why not try reaching out to them?
Red Hood: They would never accept me as I am now... They wouldn't agree with my so-called "life choices". Besides, they don't miss me, they miss the person they think I used to be... I wasn't even a man when I last saw them.
Random Goon: Damn boss, that sucks.
***
And then the goons throw the Red Hood a party on trans visibility day and Jason is so confused he straight up cries.
Senior Goon who put together that Batman is Hood's dad: Don't you fucking dare show up to Pride, you goddamn piece of shit! Not after what you did to your own kid!
Batman: ???
Senior Goon: You fucking heard me. Absolutely disgusting. Don't tell yourself a father if you can't love your kids no matter what.
Batman: ... What does Pride have to do with anything? I had no idea he got resurrected to go find him.
Senior Goon: "Resurrected"? It's called top surgery, you heartless bastard! He didn't fucking die, just 'cause he aint't a she no more!
Batman, beyond confused: He did, though. He literally died and got resurrected.
Senior Goon, spitting in disgust: You've got some nerve. Get outta my face!
***
Bruce, later that night: What the hell are you telling your minions?
Jason: They assumed the scars on my chest I'm uncomfortable with were top surgery scars. They were so supportive, I didn't want to disappoint them by telling them I just died.
Bruce: Joey accused me of being a homophobic parent and spit at me.
Jason: Really?! That's so sweet! Send me the video!
Bruce: Can you at least tell him our issues have nothing to do with your transness? Or lack thereof.
Jason: Stop being homophobic and I will.
Bruce, notable bisexual and vocal queer advocate:
***
Dick: Why does Jay respond to everything you post in the group chat with "Don't be homophobic"?
Bruce, sighing deeply and putting his head on his desk: I'll make him wish he just came to dinner like a regular human being.
Dick: ???
***
Red Hood, in the middle of his own safehouse talking with Joey: Once we get the payment, move the product. Otherwise, no dice.
Joey: On it- Uh, boss?
Batman, appearing out of thin air:
Red Hood, jumpscared: Jesus fucking Christ, B.
Batman, resting a hand on Hood's shoulder: A lot has happened between us that I am not proud of.
Hood: No shit-
Batman: But who you are has never been one of those things. You've always been my son, and I have loved you as one since the day you came into my life and I always will.
Hood: wut
Batman, pulling Hood into a hug: If I've made you feel as though I ever stopped, I'm sorry. I don't want a misunderstanding like this to come between us.
Joey, through tears: You better fucking mean that.
Batman, about to drop a bomb: I'm bisexual with kids of all genders and sexualities. I would never turn any of my children away, even when they've done things I disagree with. They are my children and their happiness matters more to me than anything.
Hood, in shock: What the actual fuck is happening right now.
Batman, continuing: Thank you, Joey, for telling me how he felt. He wouldn't have told me on his own and would have lived thinking I was ashamed of him, which could not be further from the truth.
Hood: You're not even my real father.
Joey: Don't talk about the man who raised you like that!
Batman: No, he's right. He has every right to be mad at me. But I couldn't let him go on believing I stopped caring about him.
theres too many pokemon games where you play as a kid whos full of life and full of potential. there needs to be a pokemon game where you play as a college dropout who lives in a shitty apartment
your starter pokemon are trubbish, rattata and glameow. which symbolise the trash you keep forgetting to take out, the rats living in your walls and the stray cat you keep trying to befriend but it keeps hissing at you.
you guys dont get it its not supposed to be dark and edgy its supposed to be living in a mundane setting and slowly rediscovering the wonder in the world by going on a journey with a magical trash bag that is your friend, its about love and recovery and coping with the stress of your adult life with your friend who is made of sentient garbage
You get home from work. Finally. The sun's already set outside your apartment window. At least your apartment has a window.
You discard most of your work uniform in the corner with the other laundry and click on the TV before landing in your couch with a heavy sigh. The blue light of the TV floods the otherwise dark room.
"Joining us today for an exclusive interview is Red, four time Pokemon League Champion, who also famously disbanded criminal organization Team Rocket at least twice! Thank you so much for tuning in."
Pokemon league champion, huh? You think to yourself. You used to want that. A child's dream - it was silly, really....
You'd heard of Red - of course you have, you don't live under a rock - but this was the first time seeing them up close, no filter. They looked tired. They actually looked about your age.
"Now Red," the reporter continued, "You've already told us about your travels through the world, your experiences as Champion, and your fight against Team Rocket and similar criminal organizations. I know we're almost out of time but there's one last thing we'd like to hear from you - do you have any words for the future generation of Pokemon trainers? Any advice for those just at the start of their journey?"
The Champion waited a moment before answering: "Yes. I meet a lot of people. A lot of people who used to want to be trainers. And I understand, it's not for everyone. But, people say 'Oh, you're still going at your age?' or 'Oh, I wanted to when I was younger,' or 'Oh, I couldn't now, I'm too old.'" Red shook their head sadly. "These people are my age, maybe even younger. They're wrong. It doesn't matter how old you are and it never did. It doesn't matter if you never got a Pokemon from the local professor at ten years old. It's not just for children. It's for everyone. The bond between people and Pokemon is not something you miss out on just because you had to grow up."
Red pauses again, and you realize you're paying more attention to the program than you thought you were.
"Pokemon are everywhere. The world is filled with magic. It's never too late."
"It's never too late..." you repeat under your breath. Something about the Champion's words clicked inside your brain. The world is full of magic....
As if on cue, sounds from within your apartment catch your attention: Rustling in your garbage can, scrabbling inside the wall, clawing at your window.
Cautiously you approach your trash can. It smells terrible, but then again it always does. You slowly lift the lid, and the rubbish inside shifts to reveal a green bag with white eyes. You knew that Trubbish were born from waste and preferred unsanitary environments, but you didn't think it'd been that long since you took the trash out.
The Pokemon shuffles to try and hide and knocks the bin over in doing so, spilling itself out onto the floor. You chuckle a bit.
"I guess now the trash can take itself out," you joke. The Trubbish seems upset by the quip. "Oh no, no, it's ok," you correct yourself, trying to spare its feelings. You find this creature, born of rubbish against its will, to be relatable. After all, you didn't ask to be in this trash heap either.
"It's ok," you repeat, more softly this time. "I'm. I'm trash too."
The stench from the trash can starts to dissipate as the Trubbish's... bag ties? ears? perk up at the attempted sympathy.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WALL]
You'd always blamed the noises coming through the walls on the neighbors, but this is too close to deny: it simply isn't a human-made noise. You locate a crack in the wall that you hadn't noticed before. The sound is getting louder. The sound is getting closer.
A piece of drywall crumbles away. You have just long enough to think Damn, I'm not getting my deposit back, before a very startled Rattata leaps through the newly made hole and bowls you over. You land badly on your ankle and let out a cry of pain, crashing to the floor.
That's definitely sprained... you think, holding your injured foot as you lie there in temporary shock. The Rattata seems apologetic. It vanishes back into the wall for a moment.
You swear. At least you have a compression bandage in your first aid kit. While you contemplate how best to stand without putting yourself in further pain, the Pokemon reappears, carrying a small blue fruit in its mouth. It drops the fruit beside you and rolls it towards you with a paw.
An Oran Berry, you recognize. Of course - Pokemon eat berries when they're hurt. Touched by the gesture, or perhaps not wanting to hurt the little creature's feelings, you take a bite.
It tastes terrible, but you power through it; you've eaten worse. Either by the berry's healing properties or the Pokemon's kindness, your pain eases a little.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WINDOW]
You go to your window and struggle for a moment to pull up the tattered blinds. You see two glowing eyes in the darkness. A Pokemon? They certainly don't look human, anyways. As a matter of fact, they seem familiar. The impatient scratching continues.
You open the window. A small, cat-like Pokemon hops inside, as if indignant at being kept waiting. You recognize this pokemon by the notch in its ear as the stray Glameow you've been trying to befriend.
It hisses at you. Which, for this particular Pokemon, is typical. As you go to shut the window you notice that it's favoring one of its legs while it walks.
Is it injured? Did it come to you for help? You were pretty certain this pokemon hated you. But, sure enough, you notice a cut on the Glameow's leg as it hops up onto your couch, as if it already lived here.
The Glameow seems to be avoiding eye contact. It occurs to you that it may have had no where else to go. You rummage through your cupboards to try and find a remedy. You remember seeing on the news that lemonade can be used in place of medicine for Pokemon who are injured. Moo Moo Milk is better, but you don't have any. You stopped buying it because it always spoils before you remember to drink it.
You had exactly one can of lemonade left. You crack it open and pour it into a bowl. The Glameow hisses again when you offer it, but soon gives the liquid a sniff before drinking it slowly.
You never realized how quickly Pokemon could heal. After it finishes its drink, it allows you to pat it on the head...
... for about two seconds before it hisses again. Still, the little Pokemon doesn't try to escape. It simply curls up on your couch and falls asleep.
You never knew your birth parents, growing up across the country in orphanages. While alone you learned to cook and shared your meals across the world, eventually owning your own business. One day you suddenly find out what your parents were. They were Fae⊠youâve fed thousands Fae Food.
The call from your New York restaurant comes at 2am their time which is a sensible 11pm your time.
âBoss, we need you,â the manager says. Hercules â the name he chose for himself when he first started working for you â doesnât scare easily. He canât, not while running three of your restaurants in the cesspool that is New York city. âSomeone just drove a truck through the flagship.â
Youâre already out of bed and out the door. âIâll be there before the sun comes up.â
Herculesâ relief bleeds through the phone. âThank you.â
âYouâre my right arm, Hercules,â you say. Youâre wearing the plaid pajama set Mercedes, your left arm and the woman who runs your LA restaurants, gave you for your birthday. You can buy clothes in New York. âThank you.â
Your Thank yous are far and few between. Theyâve always felt awkward in your mouth and worse leaving it. But Hercules is one of yours and itâs easy to volley the words back, to not accept his gratitude in the face of his loyalty. No thanks needed. Youâre part of me.
Hercules swallows hard. He knows you well. âBoss.â
âHercules.â
You hang up at the same time.
Los Angeles is still awake as you roar onto the streets. Your motorcycle is the same one you bought when your first restaurant started turning a profit. Prodigal. The name of it is carved into the body. The streets are damp from a rare spot of rain. Youâd gotten caught in it while leaving Queen earlier. It had felt like a bad omen then and your lip curls as the moisture sprays up under your tires now.
Psychic Pines AU (formerly Psychic Ma AU) Masterpost:
Ma Pines is actually psychic, specifically on peopleâs lives. Â She still runs the psychic hotline, but her predictions are spot on. She canât see births or deaths, though. People come to her for lottery numbers the most often.
But the thing is that the futureâs always changing, so sometimes sheâll look at Stan and Ford and sheâll have a vision about the future, about monsters and demons and prison and scams and sheâll just seize up, start crying, but sometimes sheâll look at them and see paranormal research and nieces and nephews and happy endings and hillbillies and a light smile plays across her face. Out of her and her sons, sheâs got the most powerful psychic abilities and gets visions almost constantly. She manages though, and she only gets them about people sheâs communicating with, so sheâll hole herself up in her room alone when she needs a break.
Filbrick doesnât have any psychic abilities, and he regards Ma, Shermie, Stanford, and Stanley as freaks when he finds out that not only does Ma (who for naming purposes is Martha in this AU) have psychic abilities but passed them on to their children as well. He p much only married Martha for her looks anyways, and he doesnât treat his sons very well once their psychic abilities become apparent.
Shermieâs psychic abilities are the most similar to his motherâs, but theyâre so slight everyone just thinks he has good instincts, he can read a situation particularly well. He doesnât know why he ought to walk his classmate home after school one day, he just knows that he needs to. Filbrick treats him the best out of the three until Ma starts getting visions of Fordâs more prosperous research endeavors.
Stanley and Fordâs abilities are much more apparent.
Stanley can see births. Female classmates eventually start coming to him so they can avoid pregnancies altogether, new wives run into him on the beach or in the supermarket or wherever and Stan can tell each and every one of them where theyâll have a child and when, and with whom. He keeps silent when he notices a vision about a man giving birth, or when a woman pressured into asking him when sheâll have a child by her friends and Stan finds he has no vision for her. He quietly takes him aside and discreetly informs him about the situation, usually makes something up for her so her friends will be satisfied, refusing to out anybody as trans. Ford is extremely jealous of Stanâs ability to see births, but as Stan gets older he winds up hating it.
Itâs when heâs around 15 that he starts seeing birth visions for himself, and it terrifies him. He sees the birth of Hal Forester, Steve Pinington, Stenson Pinefield, Andrew â8-Ballâ Alcatraz. He canât see the circumstances behind these births, just the moment he introduces himself under a fake name, but not knowing why heâs using them terrifies him. He doesnât tell anyone about those, though. Ma doesnât say anything so it must not be important, he thinks.
Ma canât see the births though, doesnât know her son as Hal or Steve or Stenson or Andrew, the ten year blind spot in Stanleyâs future scares her but she doesnât say anything. The psychic hotline brings in good money, if word got out that she was losing her abilities then what would become of her and her family?
Ford, on the other hand⊠Ford can only see deaths. He always knew how he would die: heart attack, 92, near a harbor, on an old research vessel. He knew before he could comprehend it. When he was two, he ran to his mother screaming, having seen Stanley at 92 in a log cabin, going to sleep and never waking up. When Shermie was born, and Ford was allowed into the tiny hospital room to see his new baby brother, Ford saw a 95 year old man, surrounded by children and grandchildren in a hospital room just like the one he was sleeping in now, as a heart monitor flatlined. Before he was 10, Ford saw Filbrick have a stroke at 75, he saw Martha at 80 going quietly, cancer in her throat and in her lungs. After he told his mother to stop smoking, he saw her at 81 walking into the ocean for a swim and never coming back. He hates meeting new people, before he knows their names he knows how theyâll die, he knows the second he shakes their hand. No one comes to him for predictions unless thereâs another scare in the news, another string of violent crimes and a father wants to know if his daughter will make it home safely that night. Ford tells him that sheâll die at 22 of a cocaine overdose and he leaves out the part about the father dying two years prior in a car crash. During the height of the Civil Rights Movement Ford sneaks out to protests and picks people out from the crowd, tells them not to go down certain streets, and breathes a sigh of relief when their cause death changes to old age rather than at the hands of some white supremacist. When the draft starts, Ford sees so many of his classmates dying in a pointless war in a far away country in a jungle somewhere, some being tortured to death others being blown to pieces, he thinks heâll go mad. He sees people dying of colds and the flu and minor illnesses in the 80s and he doesnât know why thereâs so many and he tries calling hospitals and doctors about it but they scoff and tell him heâs crazy and by the time heâs 16 heâs beginning to think he is.
He sees Stanley Pines in 1982 and he knows thereâs a car crash but he canât see the specifics, and he knows itâs a death because otherwise he wouldnât be able to see it. (Like his mother, he does not know Stenson or Hal or Andrew, but he is more used to blind spots than she is). But Ford knows that Stanley dies at 92, quietly, in his sleep, a few weeks after Fordâs own death (after everyoneâs affairs are taken care of, but Ford canât see that part. And he and Stanley remain in the Mystery Shack as ghosts, watching over their niece and nephew until itâs their time, but Ford canât see that part either). And the fact that Stanley dies twice terrifies Ford to no end. He longs for his brotherâs gift of seeing births instead.
Stanley is kicked out at 17, and a few months later, when he becomes Steve Pinington, he knows what his own birthâs mean.Â
Maâs visions about Stanley cease once he becomes Steve Pinington, and she keeps this information to herself, telling Ford that Stanley is fine whenever he calls, whether he asked or not. He believes her and his resentment grows.
Ford meets Fiddleford, and sees him having a stroke at 99 in a big mansion, and decides that this is a pleasant enough death that he wonât let it loom over their friendship. Not when the older man speaks in a kind, southern accent and doesnât bat an eye at either Fordâs fingers or his psychic ability. Ford informs his new friend of his eventual cause of death, and Fiddleford proclaims that his idea for a computermajig must really take off for him to have such a big house.
Stanley wracks his brain for a vision of the birth of himself as a millionaire but comes up empty every time. He meets a man named Rick and tells him that Beth will be born on a summerâs day, but the blue haired stuttering man just says âY-EUGH-eah, S-Stan-Stanley, no shit.â and Stan doesnât recall giving the alcoholic his name but decides to spend the weekend with him anyways. He figures Ford would know if he was going to die, would warn him somehow. That thought is what plays in Stanâs head whenever he does something wreckless. He canât decide if the other world they visited was real or the byproduct of a drug trip. He has a sneaking suspicion it was real, but then again it is the seventies.
Ford meets Bill and resolves to befriend the first being in the world who never gave him a death vision.
Soon after, Stan gets a vision of himself born as Stanford Pines and it chills him to his core. He doesnât want to think about what happened to him to make him desperate to steal his brotherâs identity.
Bill betrays Ford and the image in Fordâs head, of himself aiming an odd looking gun at an old manâs head (an old man who looks suspiciously like his brother) both haunts him and keeps him going.
Ford calls Stan and hopes that he can help him out of the hole, but Ford is thrust into a strange new world and suddenly he wonders if his heart attack at 92 Â was in his home dimension or a far off galaxy. He can still see Stan dying in a car crash but at least heâs not dying from his wound. Hunting prey and picking fights is easier when you can see how your target is going to die.
Stanley is reborn as Stanford and he feels sick for a week. Stan fakes his death and wonders if Ford saw it when they were younger. He thinks of his brother entering into this world and decides thatâs as good a birth of any, and he sees it happen. Itâs thirty years down the line and he doesnât know how the encounter ends (with a hug or a punch in the face? All he can see is Ford stepping towards him) but he holds the vision at the forefront of his mind.
Ford has to bite back bile in his throat when he meets Dipper, Mabel, and Soos. Itâs been so long since he saw a vision for a child, much less two (three counting Soos) and itâs somehow worse when he meets Wendy, Candy, and Grenda. The image of Dipper at 89, another heart attack, this time Ford can see himself and his brother there as ghosts, comforting Dipper in his final moments, plays itself on loop during Ford and Dipperâs first DD&MD session and he nearly cancels Mabelâs unicorn hair mission seconds after he allowed her to go out into the forest, because the image of her at 93 going peacefully in her sleep, like Stanley, suddenly changed to her getting caught in a bear trap, but then Candy (40, car accident, Ford makes a note to change that but decides it can wait until the girl is actually old enough to drive before doing anything) suggested bringing Wendy (65, logging accident) and Grenda (25, assassination in Austria, no wait Marius just texted her, 110 in a beautiful castle, no waitâ he decides Grendaâs death may be a blind spot for him) the vision left as quickly as it came.
Ford doesnât realize who the man in Billâs death vision is until Stanley puts on Fordâs sweater. The whole time Stanâs mind is being erased, heâs reminding himself that this is not a death, if it was, he would have seen it. He keeps the vision of Stan at 92 falling asleep in his head.
It doesnât do anything to shake the feeling that heâs killing his brother.
During his last recollections, Stanley searches for Billâs birth and finds none. When Stan gets his memories back, he finds Billâs stone physical form and searches for the demonâs birth, but finds nothing. Ford cries when Stan tells him as much, he hugs his brother so tightly Stan jokes that Ford must be getting a vision of him being crushed to death, but all Fordâs thinking is how grateful he is that if he didnât get the ability to see births, at least Stan did. And Stan sees nothing so there wonât be anything. Stanâs visions are permanent, they rarely change, though heâs not particularly upset when one does (though, once, a pregnant woman approached the two old men in the harbor and said that she was due in three months. Stanley scrunched his eyebrows and told her he couldnât see anything, but Ford stared at her and told the woman that she needed to go to the hospital immediately if she wanted to survive, there was nothing alive inside of her stomach)
Stan tells Soos and Melody that she wonât give birth to any children, but seven children will be adopted into the Ramirez household and he couldnât be prouder. As they arrive, Ford assures Soos and Melody that three infants will live long and healthy lives, tells three young children that theyâre safe now and will be for a long time, and one teenager that Soos and Melody will be there for them until their time in this life is up.
Stan sees grandchildren and grandniblings and Ford focuses more on their long lives than their deaths, unless itâs serious (he regularly texts Mabel for updates on Grenda, once he figures out how to use a phone, by the time Ford is 90 heâs accepted that heâll just never know how Grenda dies).
When Ford turns 92, he takes Stan aside and tells him that their time is almost up. For all the deathâs heâs seen, Ford is terrified of his own the most, but Stan takes his brotherâs hand, and tells him that he decided becoming a ghost was sort of like a birth when he was 80. Stan tells Ford that his birth into the afterlife would be made with his brother at his side, he tells Ford that his own transition into a ghostly form will be smooth, and he says âWherever we go, we go together.â
Ford smiles, and resolves to call the rest of the family to give them a warning that the Pines twins are reaching the end of their days.
They set sail for a harbor along the coast of Oregon.
Ford has a heart attack near the coastline.
Stan goes quietly in his sleep a few weeks later, in his old bed at the Mystery Shack.
Dipper engraves Fordâs headstone with the words âAd Astra Per Asperaâ and below them, âA hero who fought back even when it seemed impossible. A beloved Uncle, Mentor, Brother, and Friend.â A golden hand with six fingers is plastered near the bottom by Mabel.
Soos carves the words âBeloved Father, Uncle, and Brotherâ onto Stanâs tombstone. Wendy makes him add the words âTerrible bossâ and everyone agrees on âA true hero.â Dipper and Mabel make Shermie take them to Glass Shard Beach so they can spit on Filbrickâs grave because Stanley (and Ford) never got to. Shermie pretends to protest but once everyoneâs gone he spits on Filbrickâs grave, too.
Stan and Ford both laugh when Dipper and Mabel make sure Stan gets the bigger tombstone.Â
so, would Mabel and Dipper have not directly obvious psychic powers themselves (being Shermyâs grand kids). Like, Mabelâs matchmaker thing could be from her being able to tell when people would fall in love. but not directly, rather, she can feel how well a person would feel for another person. (thatâs how she can tell people would work out as a match). Like, she can that Dipper likes Wendy, but she also felt that Wendy doesnât feel the same way, and wouldnât (at that point in time). Mean while she saw a possibility with Robbie and Tambry. but she can only see when someone would feel love for someone else, not if they fall out of love. think of a line, with lovers being seen as points along the line, the only way sheâd be able to tell a love wouldnât last would be that there was someone else down the line.Â
Dipper I have a harder time pinning down, I either have him with a danger thing where eh can see or just feel when something doesnât feel right. Or that he can feel when something has more for him to learn from, something with possible knowledge for him to unlock (he constantly re-read the journal when he first got it because he could feel there was something more he could learn form it, but he just didnât know how to get to that hidden knowledge.) He doesnât bother with the school library, thereâs nothing interesting there for him to learn. Nothing interesting to read. but Mr. Connelly the old English teacher has some of the most interesting stories to tell, this side of the state.
@nour386 My original plan was for the kids to not have any psychic abilities but these are some really good ideas. Dipper and Mabelâs psychic powers would be incredibly slight, like Shermieâs, to the point where they donât even realize they have any. I feel like Mabel would be able to sense what makes people happy, though, usually itâs other people. She knows that Dipper will be happy hanging out with Wendy and when he develops a crush on her she pushes him because she wants Dipper to be happy, but really theyâre happier as good friends. She knows that making a wax duplicate of Stan will make him happy but itâs only when Ford steps out of the portal that she knows why. She knows that Stan and Ford need each other to be happy and tries to end their fight. She grabs her scrapbook and shows an amnesiac Stan because her insides are screaming at her that thatâs the ticket to the whole damn townâs happiness. When it works, she begins to think that maybe she has psychic powers after all. And I like your idea about Dipper sensing knowledge/mysteries. He gets a strange feeling whenever he passes the vending machine, when he first gets to Gravity Falls he just KNOWS that the town is hiding something. He knows that the tree that hides the bunker is different before he takes a hammer to it, and he has a sinking feeling in his stomach that Gideon is hiding something, even after Mabel destroys his amulet. When he finds out about the portal his abilities flare up, the man he thought he knew just gained about a million secrets (Stan was a good enough liar to convince Dipperâs psychic abilities not to look for any secrets) and they could end the world. He has an awful feeling when Ford slowly reaches his hand out towards Bill, the first time in a dream displayed on a screen, the second time in the Fearamid and itâs not Ford but Stanley.
And before they go to Gravity Falls, Dipper always could tell when someone was lying âYouâre hiding something I know it!â, and he always pinned it to being able to read people better. Heâd probably feel over whelmed upon his arrival to a town with so many secrets he feels are hiding for him to discover. Mabel could always get the best gift for her friends and family âhow did you know I wanted to get a new dining set?â, and she always pinned it to knowing people well. And then they meet Ford and realise the truth.
Dipper constantly heading into the forest because itâs basically calling to him, and his stomach makes braids with itself telling him thereâs so much to learn. Mabel tagging along because she feels that Dipper would love to have someone go along with him (and to help him out of the random scraps he gets into).Â
Mabel getting Stan to go on his date with Susan because she felt that he was sad because he was lonely, but he didnât need/want that kind of company to make him happy. Dipper snoops in his room, because he can just TELL the guy is hiding something, but doesnât have anything to prove it. Like, maybe the reason Dipper isnât going haywire with Stanâs secrets, is because Stan himself believes half the lies he tells (âIâm fine!â âIâm not lonely!â âI havenât seen those papers anywhere sir!â âI didnât eat your spaghettiâ âI donât need anybodyâ)
Dipper probably would only get a minor tingle about Fiddleford, since heâd have lost most of his memories, so thereâd be nothing to read. Stan would look at him and see the birth of âFiddlefordâ then âOld man Mcgucketâ then âFiddlefordâ again. Ford probably wouldnât see anything? unless itâs the âdeathâ of the Fiddleford he knew.Â
Also: I bet Filbrick didnât see his grave being spat on.Â
(I also bet that Ma pines couldnât/wouldnât tell him about it after the Stanley incident)
@nour386 yeah Ma would have kept that information to herself, and Filbrick doesnât have any psychic abilities so he canât see shit. Ma Pines/Martha can only see it because Shermieâs there and she knows Shermie. She dies before she can meet Dipper and Mabel so the image of them spitting on Fibrickâs grave is the only thing she knows about them. Otherwise, once a person dies she canât see anything regarding what happens to them unless sheâs talking to the person doing the grave desecrating. She also canât see their deaths like Ford can, though she can make a pretty accurate guess based on âthis guy will get stabbed in September. After that I canât see anything. So he probably gets stabbed and dies in Septemberâ and fordâs like âYeah on the 21st at 3:02 am exactly by a man in a black coat in an alleywayâ
Psychic Pines AU (formerly Psychic Ma AU) Masterpost:
Ma Pines is actually psychic, specifically on peopleâs lives. Â She still runs the psychic hotline, but her predictions are spot on. She canât see births or deaths, though. People come to her for lottery numbers the most often.
But the thing is that the futureâs always changing, so sometimes sheâll look at Stan and Ford and sheâll have a vision about the future, about monsters and demons and prison and scams and sheâll just seize up, start crying, but sometimes sheâll look at them and see paranormal research and nieces and nephews and happy endings and hillbillies and a light smile plays across her face. Out of her and her sons, sheâs got the most powerful psychic abilities and gets visions almost constantly. She manages though, and she only gets them about people sheâs communicating with, so sheâll hole herself up in her room alone when she needs a break.
Filbrick doesnât have any psychic abilities, and he regards Ma, Shermie, Stanford, and Stanley as freaks when he finds out that not only does Ma (who for naming purposes is Martha in this AU) have psychic abilities but passed them on to their children as well. He p much only married Martha for her looks anyways, and he doesnât treat his sons very well once their psychic abilities become apparent.
Shermieâs psychic abilities are the most similar to his motherâs, but theyâre so slight everyone just thinks he has good instincts, he can read a situation particularly well. He doesnât know why he ought to walk his classmate home after school one day, he just knows that he needs to. Filbrick treats him the best out of the three until Ma starts getting visions of Fordâs more prosperous research endeavors.
Stanley and Fordâs abilities are much more apparent.
Stanley can see births. Female classmates eventually start coming to him so they can avoid pregnancies altogether, new wives run into him on the beach or in the supermarket or wherever and Stan can tell each and every one of them where theyâll have a child and when, and with whom. He keeps silent when he notices a vision about a man giving birth, or when a woman pressured into asking him when sheâll have a child by her friends and Stan finds he has no vision for her. He quietly takes him aside and discreetly informs him about the situation, usually makes something up for her so her friends will be satisfied, refusing to out anybody as trans. Ford is extremely jealous of Stanâs ability to see births, but as Stan gets older he winds up hating it.
Itâs when heâs around 15 that he starts seeing birth visions for himself, and it terrifies him. He sees the birth of Hal Forester, Steve Pinington, Stenson Pinefield, Andrew â8-Ballâ Alcatraz. He canât see the circumstances behind these births, just the moment he introduces himself under a fake name, but not knowing why heâs using them terrifies him. He doesnât tell anyone about those, though. Ma doesnât say anything so it must not be important, he thinks.
Ma canât see the births though, doesnât know her son as Hal or Steve or Stenson or Andrew, the ten year blind spot in Stanleyâs future scares her but she doesnât say anything. The psychic hotline brings in good money, if word got out that she was losing her abilities then what would become of her and her family?
Ford, on the other hand⊠Ford can only see deaths. He always knew how he would die: heart attack, 92, near a harbor, on an old research vessel. He knew before he could comprehend it. When he was two, he ran to his mother screaming, having seen Stanley at 92 in a log cabin, going to sleep and never waking up. When Shermie was born, and Ford was allowed into the tiny hospital room to see his new baby brother, Ford saw a 95 year old man, surrounded by children and grandchildren in a hospital room just like the one he was sleeping in now, as a heart monitor flatlined. Before he was 10, Ford saw Filbrick have a stroke at 75, he saw Martha at 80 going quietly, cancer in her throat and in her lungs. After he told his mother to stop smoking, he saw her at 81 walking into the ocean for a swim and never coming back. He hates meeting new people, before he knows their names he knows how theyâll die, he knows the second he shakes their hand. No one comes to him for predictions unless thereâs another scare in the news, another string of violent crimes and a father wants to know if his daughter will make it home safely that night. Ford tells him that sheâll die at 22 of a cocaine overdose and he leaves out the part about the father dying two years prior in a car crash. During the height of the Civil Rights Movement Ford sneaks out to protests and picks people out from the crowd, tells them not to go down certain streets, and breathes a sigh of relief when their cause death changes to old age rather than at the hands of some white supremacist. When the draft starts, Ford sees so many of his classmates dying in a pointless war in a far away country in a jungle somewhere, some being tortured to death others being blown to pieces, he thinks heâll go mad. He sees people dying of colds and the flu and minor illnesses in the 80s and he doesnât know why thereâs so many and he tries calling hospitals and doctors about it but they scoff and tell him heâs crazy and by the time heâs 16 heâs beginning to think he is.
He sees Stanley Pines in 1982 and he knows thereâs a car crash but he canât see the specifics, and he knows itâs a death because otherwise he wouldnât be able to see it. (Like his mother, he does not know Stenson or Hal or Andrew, but he is more used to blind spots than she is). But Ford knows that Stanley dies at 92, quietly, in his sleep, a few weeks after Fordâs own death (after everyoneâs affairs are taken care of, but Ford canât see that part. And he and Stanley remain in the Mystery Shack as ghosts, watching over their niece and nephew until itâs their time, but Ford canât see that part either). And the fact that Stanley dies twice terrifies Ford to no end. He longs for his brotherâs gift of seeing births instead.
Stanley is kicked out at 17, and a few months later, when he becomes Steve Pinington, he knows what his own birthâs mean.Â
Maâs visions about Stanley cease once he becomes Steve Pinington, and she keeps this information to herself, telling Ford that Stanley is fine whenever he calls, whether he asked or not. He believes her and his resentment grows.
Ford meets Fiddleford, and sees him having a stroke at 99 in a big mansion, and decides that this is a pleasant enough death that he wonât let it loom over their friendship. Not when the older man speaks in a kind, southern accent and doesnât bat an eye at either Fordâs fingers or his psychic ability. Ford informs his new friend of his eventual cause of death, and Fiddleford proclaims that his idea for a computermajig must really take off for him to have such a big house.
Stanley wracks his brain for a vision of the birth of himself as a millionaire but comes up empty every time. He meets a man named Rick and tells him that Beth will be born on a summerâs day, but the blue haired stuttering man just says âY-EUGH-eah, S-Stan-Stanley, no shit.â and Stan doesnât recall giving the alcoholic his name but decides to spend the weekend with him anyways. He figures Ford would know if he was going to die, would warn him somehow. That thought is what plays in Stanâs head whenever he does something wreckless. He canât decide if the other world they visited was real or the byproduct of a drug trip. He has a sneaking suspicion it was real, but then again it is the seventies.
Ford meets Bill and resolves to befriend the first being in the world who never gave him a death vision.
Soon after, Stan gets a vision of himself born as Stanford Pines and it chills him to his core. He doesnât want to think about what happened to him to make him desperate to steal his brotherâs identity.
Bill betrays Ford and the image in Fordâs head, of himself aiming an odd looking gun at an old manâs head (an old man who looks suspiciously like his brother) both haunts him and keeps him going.
Ford calls Stan and hopes that he can help him out of the hole, but Ford is thrust into a strange new world and suddenly he wonders if his heart attack at 92 Â was in his home dimension or a far off galaxy. He can still see Stan dying in a car crash but at least heâs not dying from his wound. Hunting prey and picking fights is easier when you can see how your target is going to die.
Stanley is reborn as Stanford and he feels sick for a week. Stan fakes his death and wonders if Ford saw it when they were younger. He thinks of his brother entering into this world and decides thatâs as good a birth of any, and he sees it happen. Itâs thirty years down the line and he doesnât know how the encounter ends (with a hug or a punch in the face? All he can see is Ford stepping towards him) but he holds the vision at the forefront of his mind.
Ford has to bite back bile in his throat when he meets Dipper, Mabel, and Soos. Itâs been so long since he saw a vision for a child, much less two (three counting Soos) and itâs somehow worse when he meets Wendy, Candy, and Grenda. The image of Dipper at 89, another heart attack, this time Ford can see himself and his brother there as ghosts, comforting Dipper in his final moments, plays itself on loop during Ford and Dipperâs first DD&MD session and he nearly cancels Mabelâs unicorn hair mission seconds after he allowed her to go out into the forest, because the image of her at 93 going peacefully in her sleep, like Stanley, suddenly changed to her getting caught in a bear trap, but then Candy (40, car accident, Ford makes a note to change that but decides it can wait until the girl is actually old enough to drive before doing anything) suggested bringing Wendy (65, logging accident) and Grenda (25, assassination in Austria, no wait Marius just texted her, 110 in a beautiful castle, no waitâ he decides Grendaâs death may be a blind spot for him) the vision left as quickly as it came.
Ford doesnât realize who the man in Billâs death vision is until Stanley puts on Fordâs sweater. The whole time Stanâs mind is being erased, heâs reminding himself that this is not a death, if it was, he would have seen it. He keeps the vision of Stan at 92 falling asleep in his head.
It doesnât do anything to shake the feeling that heâs killing his brother.
During his last recollections, Stanley searches for Billâs birth and finds none. When Stan gets his memories back, he finds Billâs stone physical form and searches for the demonâs birth, but finds nothing. Ford cries when Stan tells him as much, he hugs his brother so tightly Stan jokes that Ford must be getting a vision of him being crushed to death, but all Fordâs thinking is how grateful he is that if he didnât get the ability to see births, at least Stan did. And Stan sees nothing so there wonât be anything. Stanâs visions are permanent, they rarely change, though heâs not particularly upset when one does (though, once, a pregnant woman approached the two old men in the harbor and said that she was due in three months. Stanley scrunched his eyebrows and told her he couldnât see anything, but Ford stared at her and told the woman that she needed to go to the hospital immediately if she wanted to survive, there was nothing alive inside of her stomach)
Stan tells Soos and Melody that she wonât give birth to any children, but seven children will be adopted into the Ramirez household and he couldnât be prouder. As they arrive, Ford assures Soos and Melody that three infants will live long and healthy lives, tells three young children that theyâre safe now and will be for a long time, and one teenager that Soos and Melody will be there for them until their time in this life is up.
Stan sees grandchildren and grandniblings and Ford focuses more on their long lives than their deaths, unless itâs serious (he regularly texts Mabel for updates on Grenda, once he figures out how to use a phone, by the time Ford is 90 heâs accepted that heâll just never know how Grenda dies).
When Ford turns 92, he takes Stan aside and tells him that their time is almost up. For all the deathâs heâs seen, Ford is terrified of his own the most, but Stan takes his brotherâs hand, and tells him that he decided becoming a ghost was sort of like a birth when he was 80. Stan tells Ford that his birth into the afterlife would be made with his brother at his side, he tells Ford that his own transition into a ghostly form will be smooth, and he says âWherever we go, we go together.â
Ford smiles, and resolves to call the rest of the family to give them a warning that the Pines twins are reaching the end of their days.
They set sail for a harbor along the coast of Oregon.
Ford has a heart attack near the coastline.
Stan goes quietly in his sleep a few weeks later, in his old bed at the Mystery Shack.
Dipper engraves Fordâs headstone with the words âAd Astra Per Asperaâ and below them, âA hero who fought back even when it seemed impossible. A beloved Uncle, Mentor, Brother, and Friend.â A golden hand with six fingers is plastered near the bottom by Mabel.
Soos carves the words âBeloved Father, Uncle, and Brotherâ onto Stanâs tombstone. Wendy makes him add the words âTerrible bossâ and everyone agrees on âA true hero.â Dipper and Mabel make Shermie take them to Glass Shard Beach so they can spit on Filbrickâs grave because Stanley (and Ford) never got to. Shermie pretends to protest but once everyoneâs gone he spits on Filbrickâs grave, too.
Stan and Ford both laugh when Dipper and Mabel make sure Stan gets the bigger tombstone.Â
so, would Mabel and Dipper have not directly obvious psychic powers themselves (being Shermyâs grand kids). Like, Mabelâs matchmaker thing could be from her being able to tell when people would fall in love. but not directly, rather, she can feel how well a person would feel for another person. (thatâs how she can tell people would work out as a match). Like, she can that Dipper likes Wendy, but she also felt that Wendy doesnât feel the same way, and wouldnât (at that point in time). Mean while she saw a possibility with Robbie and Tambry. but she can only see when someone would feel love for someone else, not if they fall out of love. think of a line, with lovers being seen as points along the line, the only way sheâd be able to tell a love wouldnât last would be that there was someone else down the line.Â
Dipper I have a harder time pinning down, I either have him with a danger thing where eh can see or just feel when something doesnât feel right. Or that he can feel when something has more for him to learn from, something with possible knowledge for him to unlock (he constantly re-read the journal when he first got it because he could feel there was something more he could learn form it, but he just didnât know how to get to that hidden knowledge.) He doesnât bother with the school library, thereâs nothing interesting there for him to learn. Nothing interesting to read. but Mr. Connelly the old English teacher has some of the most interesting stories to tell, this side of the state.
@nour386 My original plan was for the kids to not have any psychic abilities but these are some really good ideas. Dipper and Mabelâs psychic powers would be incredibly slight, like Shermieâs, to the point where they donât even realize they have any. I feel like Mabel would be able to sense what makes people happy, though, usually itâs other people. She knows that Dipper will be happy hanging out with Wendy and when he develops a crush on her she pushes him because she wants Dipper to be happy, but really theyâre happier as good friends. She knows that making a wax duplicate of Stan will make him happy but itâs only when Ford steps out of the portal that she knows why. She knows that Stan and Ford need each other to be happy and tries to end their fight. She grabs her scrapbook and shows an amnesiac Stan because her insides are screaming at her that thatâs the ticket to the whole damn townâs happiness. When it works, she begins to think that maybe she has psychic powers after all. And I like your idea about Dipper sensing knowledge/mysteries. He gets a strange feeling whenever he passes the vending machine, when he first gets to Gravity Falls he just KNOWS that the town is hiding something. He knows that the tree that hides the bunker is different before he takes a hammer to it, and he has a sinking feeling in his stomach that Gideon is hiding something, even after Mabel destroys his amulet. When he finds out about the portal his abilities flare up, the man he thought he knew just gained about a million secrets (Stan was a good enough liar to convince Dipperâs psychic abilities not to look for any secrets) and they could end the world. He has an awful feeling when Ford slowly reaches his hand out towards Bill, the first time in a dream displayed on a screen, the second time in the Fearamid and itâs not Ford but Stanley.
And before they go to Gravity Falls, Dipper always could tell when someone was lying âYouâre hiding something I know it!â, and he always pinned it to being able to read people better. Heâd probably feel over whelmed upon his arrival to a town with so many secrets he feels are hiding for him to discover. Mabel could always get the best gift for her friends and family âhow did you know I wanted to get a new dining set?â, and she always pinned it to knowing people well. And then they meet Ford and realise the truth.
Dipper constantly heading into the forest because itâs basically calling to him, and his stomach makes braids with itself telling him thereâs so much to learn. Mabel tagging along because she feels that Dipper would love to have someone go along with him (and to help him out of the random scraps he gets into).Â
Mabel getting Stan to go on his date with Susan because she felt that he was sad because he was lonely, but he didnât need/want that kind of company to make him happy. Dipper snoops in his room, because he can just TELL the guy is hiding something, but doesnât have anything to prove it. Like, maybe the reason Dipper isnât going haywire with Stanâs secrets, is because Stan himself believes half the lies he tells (âIâm fine!â âIâm not lonely!â âI havenât seen those papers anywhere sir!â âI didnât eat your spaghettiâ âI donât need anybodyâ)
Dipper probably would only get a minor tingle about Fiddleford, since heâd have lost most of his memories, so thereâd be nothing to read. Stan would look at him and see the birth of âFiddlefordâ then âOld man Mcgucketâ then âFiddlefordâ again. Ford probably wouldnât see anything? unless itâs the âdeathâ of the Fiddleford he knew.Â
Also: I bet Filbrick didnât see his grave being spat on.Â
(I also bet that Ma pines couldnât/wouldnât tell him about it after the Stanley incident)
@nour386 yeah Ma would have kept that information to herself, and Filbrick doesnât have any psychic abilities so he canât see shit. Ma Pines/Martha can only see it because Shermieâs there and she knows Shermie. She dies before she can meet Dipper and Mabel so the image of them spitting on Fibrickâs grave is the only thing she knows about them. Otherwise, once a person dies she canât see anything regarding what happens to them unless sheâs talking to the person doing the grave desecrating. She also canât see their deaths like Ford can, though she can make a pretty accurate guess based on âthis guy will get stabbed in September. After that I canât see anything. So he probably gets stabbed and dies in Septemberâ and fordâs like âYeah on the 21st at 3:02 am exactly by a man in a black coat in an alleywayâ
