#even in iterations where it didn’t happen

[humbledragon669]

S1E4 – Saturday Morning Funtime Write Up P2 - Saturday (The last day of the World) from The Fields of Megiddo to "You're better off without him."

Given the rather abrupt interruption I made to the previous part of the write up for this episode, let’s just get stuck straight in and pick up where I left off. Other than the lovely implication that selfies are the work of the devil, there’s only one thing I want to talk about in relation to this scene, and it’s the music. It’s been a while since I waxed lyrical over David Arnold’s soundtrack, so I’m sure it’s about time I brought it up again. We can hear a piece of incidental music playing throughout the conversation between Hastur and Eric (or Junior Demon if you’re looking at the original script), the character of which perfectly underscores the tone of the conversation. There are three sections to it – one for each iteration of the disposable demon, each growing less playful than the last (represented by the harpsichord in the orchestration). What I especially love about this little piece of music is that if you listen really, really carefully, you can pick out some instances of the motif from the theme music (played by a glockenspiel). It’s a lovely reminder of how much music enriches our experience of film and television without us even realising it.

Without giving a blow-by-blow description of what’s going on in the episode (which I’m sure you’d agree would be tedious both to write and read), I don’t have much to say about the next scene either, other than pointing out Anathema’s pathological desire to feed the kids whenever they appear. It makes me wonder if she’s like that with everyone (in which case Aziraphale would probably adore her) or it’s just children (in which case, creepy). It is interesting to see that Adam’s nature is starting to be corrupted by his powers – where the consequences were previously of a childlike innocent nature, they are now starting to manifest in his attempts to dominate others. We also have confirmation that the change in his nature is now being noticed by others in his vicinity.

Hastur’s next scene, other than providing some lovely moments of perfectly delivered black comedy, forms a mainly narrative purpose, serving nicely to remind us why Aziraphale was so incredulous at the Antichrist being left with an American diplomat’s family in the first place – they’re abhorrent. The Dowlings I mean, not all Americans. Or even all American diplomats. Not that I know any American diplomats to say any different. Anyway. We also see how quick Hastur is to come to the (correct) conclusion that Crowley is to blame for this monumental cock up. Given that Hastur shows his dislike of our demon just prior to the baby switcheroo 11 years earlier (and who knows how long he’s actually felt that way), it’s almost surprising that it’s taken him this long to find something concrete against Crowley.

Alright, Easter egg time! The scene of Crowley in the cinema has a couple. Let’s start with the one glaring at us from the movie theatre screen.

That’s our episode title, right there in front of our eyes! I don’t know whether these creepy little rabbits were always intended to be holding the banners and this is where the episode title came from, whether the episode title came first, or whether it’s somewhere between the two but I love the meta-reference nonetheless. Whilst we’re on the topic of those weird little fuckers, has anybody stopped to wonder why, in the name of all that is and isn’t holy, has Crowley would pick this film to watch? I know we get that deliciously dark sequence of a bunny massacring another bunny as a result, but it’s an odd choice for the demon you have to admit.

Second Easter egg:

The only other audience member in the movie theatre, in case you didn’t already know, is played by a certain Neil Gaiman. Who also happens to provide the voice for the cutesy-wutesy bunny rabbits on the screen. It’s tempting to ask the same question about why on earth an adult man would choose this child’s cartoon to watch, alone, on a Saturday morning but really I’m just chuffed to bits that they found a cameo for Neil.

As a quick side note, I also want to point out that the attention to detail has not been neglected in the cartoon – the frog (toad?) on Hastur’s head can be seen gesticulating in line with his speech. Not to mention you can sporadically hear a “ribbit” in the background. Bloody genius.

Back with Anathema (who, for once, does not offer her guest any food) and Newton, there’s an interesting return to the idea that the same word can be used to convey different meanings dependent on its recipient. Remember back when Adam showed up on her Anathema’s doorstep and she renamed herself to accommodate his preconceived ideas? Well she switches right back to calling herself a witch here, for the exact same reason, but with Newton instead. In fairness, he’s playing the same game in calling himself a computer engineer. And whilst I appreciate the need to remove matches from this particular individual, I wasn’t actually aware that he had any, though we do know he has firelighters.

Side note: there is a note written on a newspaper article pinned on the board in this scene:

It might be nothing at all, but if anybody has any suggestions as to whether there’s an Easter egg to be found here, I’m all ears.

Moving on into Adam’s rapidly increasing decline into his true nature, the only thing I have to say about the scene with The Them being dragged through the woods is that the speech delivered by the aspiring Antichrist here is incredibly relevant to current day.

Everything’s being killed or used up and no one takes it seriously. Everyone thinks somehow it’ll all get better again.

Makes it rather difficult to argue with him, doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe global extinction is the way to go about fixing things, but his point is valid. And from a child’s perspective, it might actually seem logical that the way to solve the problem is to just start everything from new.

OK, I need to take a moment here to do a little bit of an outline, because for some reason, my brain really struggles to comprehend the timeline of the Crowley and Aziraphale scenes for the rest of this episode. Which isn’t so unusual, given that we don’t see them all in chronological order, but there’s just something about these scenes that I find hard to make them piece together into a whole story. So, here’s the sequence as I understand it:

Crowley visits the movie theatre, where he discovers that Hell knows he has something to do with the Antichrist mix up.

Crowley goes to Soho to try and convince Aziraphale to run away together.

Aziraphale is confronted on the street by a group of archangels, telling him he has to choose a side (complete with a threatening wall slam).

Aziraphale attempts to talk to God, where he discovers that Heaven intends to have their war, regardless of any external circumstances.

Hastur and Ligur arrive at Crowley’s apartment (probably concurrent with Aziraphale talking to Metatron) to “collect” him.

Aziraphale calls Crowley to tell him he knows where the Antichrist is (and presumably to suggest they do something about it together), approximately 28 minutes after his attack.

Shadwell enters the book shop, triggering the Aziraphale’s discorporation and causing the fire to start.

Crowley leaves his apartment to go and get Aziraphale having heard the voicemail he left. This may or may not be after Aziraphale has already been discorporated.

I think that’s it. Even now I feel confused about it all, and I have no idea why. I probably didn’t need to spell it all out quite so explicitly for anyone other than myself but hey, this is my write up, so my rules.

OK, let’s move on to another horribly painful exchange between Crowley and Aziraphale, shall we? Before we get there though, it would be remiss of me not to talk about the Bentley’s registration plate. I *think* this is the first time we see it properly, as it’s obscured by the front bumper in most of the shots in episode 2.

It’s a pretty poor picture, but the registration is “NIAT RUC”. As in “curtain” backwards. As I understand it, this is a reference to some writing on the wall of a mausoleum in “Monty Python’s Meaning of Life”, paying homage to Terry Gilliam (one of the Monty Python members) who was involved in the first attempt to bring Good Omens to the screen.

Alright, first question about the upcoming scene. Why doesn’t Crowley just park the Bentley in his usual parking spot and go looking for Aziraphale? We can be pretty sure that the only reason he would be driving through that particular street in Soho is going to be something to do with Aziraphale. The space across the book shop is empty when he drives past it, yet he barely slows down to take the corner. Why not just park?

Next question about the exchange that takes place between our hero pair. What exactly is Crowley apologising for? By my reckoning it was Aziraphale that delivered the deciding blow during the breakup in the previous episode, even if his reasons were honourable.

My money on the answer to this question is that Crowley is in full panic mode at this point. He knows that apologising is likely the only way he’s going to be able to spark any sort of conversation with Aziraphale, hopefully taking him so off guard that he simply does as instructed. And it nearly works – you can see the angel’s relief when his shoulders relax.

He’s desperate – why else would he offer such a carte blanche apology for “whatever he said”? The fact that Hell have finally twigged to his involvement has sent him into full flight mode and the only thing he’s stopped to collect on his way out of dodge is the only thing that really matters to him – Aziraphale. He doesn’t believe he has time to talk about it – it has to be now and he’s asking Aziraphale to trust him. As a human resident on Earth, I feel obliged to side with Aziraphale on this one, seeing as he’s still trying to find a way to stop the obliteration of the human race. But that doesn’t make the rejection any less heartbreaking, even though he does seem to give it a micro-second of consideration before he digs his heels in.

And can we just take a pause on Crowley’s choice of words for his plea? “Run away together”, that’s what he says. This is such a clear indication of the true nature of their relationship to me – running away together is generally not the sort of thing people entertain in a platonic way, is it? Noticeably, Aziraphale doesn’t reject the idea of being “together”, which further serves to the idea that they are already familiar with exactly what the connotations of the word, and that it’s something he’s comfortable with. His rejection is actually grounded in the fact that he thinks he can still persuade the powers that be to just call the whole thing off by simply talking some sense into them, so he brushes Crowley’s panic off as “ridiculous” (side note: the music kicking in at this point should tell us that this discussion is on a road to nowhere – we’ve got slushy strings in a minor key again). What he fails to realise is that even if he can by some miracle (no pun intended) actually pull that off, Hell will still be looking to wreak some sort of personal revenge on Crowley for his involvement in the Antichrist mix-up. Crowley hasn’t forgotten that though, you can see the panic written all over his face as the realisation that Aziraphale isn’t on the same page as him.

What Crowley has failed to realise is that he’s not the only one panicking. Aziraphale is on that train too, but he’s taking a very healthy dose of denial with him. He simply cannot contemplate the possibility that the whole situation can’t be fixed. Crowley’s pleading might be painful to hear but I find it harder to watch Aziraphale’s version of the same emotion – you can almost hear him screaming at Crowley, trying to explain how terrified he is and how much he needs him on side.

Let’s not forget that Aziraphale desperately wants to be a company man. He wants to believe that his side is the inherently good side. That everything they do can be justified by sound moral decisions. Asking him to stop believing that would undo everything he is and ever has been. Even if it is completely ridiculous. We shouldn’t forget that because Crowley, in his panic, does.

You’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?

That one little line, emotionally vomited as it is, conveys so much about Crowley’s feelings. I’m trying to think of another instance where he reveals an opinion he holds about Aziraphale, particularly one that is complimentary, and I am coming up blank. Admittedly I don’t know the entire script by memory (probably not far off) so I wouldn’t swear by it, but I think those three words about Aziraphale’s intelligence are exceptional as far as Crowley’s talking of the angel is concerned. And then he has to go and spoil it by calling Aziraphale “stupid”. There is little doubt at how affronted he is at that particular term.

We all know what’s coming next. Aziraphale’s very own stick-the-knife in phrase to counter Crowley’s use of the “s” word.

It’s not the first time we have seen Aziraphale express a desire for Crowley to be forgiven, but it is the first time we see him actually offering forgiveness. When I watched this scene through for the first time, I found myself wondering what Aziraphale thinks he’s forgiving Crowley for, but having seen the fleeting looks of panic on his face we’ve seen throughout this conversation, I think it’s for not understanding he needs him to stay, for not hearing the subtext he has been trying to convey. I also happen to think that Aziraphale actually uses this 3-word phrase as a coded way of telling Crowley that the conversation is over, nothing more to discuss, not unless the demon makes a compromise. I will be talking about that a fair bit when I get to its use in the Final 15, but for now let’s just say it has its desired effect – Crowley’s response is one of frustration and the discussion is indeed over.

What I find interesting is that Aziraphale appears to be confused by the reaction he gets, before the pain of watching Crowley walk away again sets in. It’s almost as if he realises he might have misjudged the situation, failed to understand how frightened Crowley is, and I think we can see real self-doubt there for a second before the demon delivers the final blow as he characteristically runs away from the difficult situation.

I think there is likely a bit more than a literal meaning to Crowley’s statement that he’s going to be “off in the stars”, particularly given what we saw of Lesley demise earlier in the episode. As briefly mentioned, the concept of entities residing within starlight at the end of their mortal lives is something that Neil uses in other works too (and not just in his work – this idea can be found in varying guises across multiple faith systems). Perhaps this is part of the reason Aziraphale is so reluctant to go with him? Either way, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that Crowley is clearly bluffing with his departing line, and knows he is.

WON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT YOU GIF

The whole dismissal feels full of holes really, after all, why on earth why would you need to go and get anything at all if you were planning on leaving the planet? Why didn’t he just take the things he wanted when he left his apartment on his way to Soho in the first place? Honestly, I don’t think he thought he’d entertained the idea that the conversation with Aziraphale would have resulted in anything other than them joining forces again, one way or the other, but the fact that he announces to Aziraphale that he’s going home says to me that he has no intention of doing anything other than that. He knows he has to reassess his options now that he doesn’t have what he came for. And how much do we all love that passer-by? He sees their relationship for what it really is, just from a single line of heated argument.

I’ve been there. You’re better off without him.

Importantly, Aziraphale doesn’t try to correct him in his assumption that they are a couple. And the passer-by is wrong of course, we all know that Crowley and Aziraphale are much stronger when they’re together. Better together you might say. Even Aziraphale knows it.

Right, that’s the lot for this part! As usual, comments, questions, discussion, always welcome. See you next time 😊

[starlooove]

Media literacy is so dead just saw someone say that they hate that ppl “always go back to” Barbara’s attack from the joker when talking about her character

[eleyras]

About narratives: the story of Sarcean, Anharion and the Collar.

Ok soooooo I finished Dark Heir and I have THOUGHTS.

This could be my delusional mind speaking BUT I firmly believe that the whole thing about the Collar and the relationship between Sarcy and Anharion depicted in the story written and established by the winners (the Lady's faction) and Gauthier is far from the truth and a lot more complex and fascinating.

More ramblings under the cut!

Putting all the hints given in DH aside for the moment (I will discuss them later) for me the biggest red flag about these narratives is the way Anharion is depicted in both.

This is a little twisted but it’s something I’ve been thinking about since DR, so let me elaborate.

In DR, the Stewards DON’T know about the Collar. James himself admits that he found out about it from Sinclair, and so the Stewards are convinced that James/Anharion had willingly betrayed the Lady’s side, becoming willingly Sarcean’s lieutenant and his lover.

Gauthier instead reveals a more twisted version of the story.

It’s clear that the two narratives are in contradiction with each other: the one told by the Lady’s faction and echoed throughout the centuries among the Stewards doesn’t include the knowledge of the Collar, and it entirely blames Anharion for his deeds and his betrayal; Gauthier’s version instead, serving for the readers as an introduction to the existence of the Collar, specifies that Anharion didn’t have any agency.

So, which version is the true one? Neither of them, because both, as it often happens in history, took the truth, and twisted it to serve its own purpose.

Let’s start with the narrative ‘written’ by the Lady.

My biggest doubt about it is why the f*ck it seems that A LOT of people outside the Hall know about the Collar. Gauthier knows about it because his ancestor was the one who stole it, but Sinclair? Let’s hypothesize that he knew about it from Kettering. Kettering knows about it because he is a Returner, so someone who was THERE, in the Old World. It’s not a stretch then to theorize that the existence of the Collar and its power was somehow known in the past.

And in DH, the presence of the chain attached to the throne in the Sun Court, where EVERYONE could see it, hypothetically ( and I underline this because I don’t trust ANYTHING of what we saw in the Undahar for it was the Sun King’s court before Sarcean’s) linked to the Collar around Anharion’s neck, makes me think that the Collar and its power weren’t such a well-kept secret.

So, the whole “the Lady’s side didn’t absolutely know about the Collar” narrative is a bit sketchy at this point. I believe someone knew at some point, so why would they iterate this version of the story, instead of depicting Anharion as a victim and blaming Sarcean for it?

Well, the answer is simple: damnatio memoriae. The version of the story known at this point had been written by the Lady’s faction, so of course her enemies are painted in the worst light possible. Anharion’s memory is, in my opinion, even more tainted by this narrative than Sarcean’s one; we don’t even know his true name. It didn’t matter that he could have had reasons for his actions: he went against the "good side" and chose the dark, the end.

This narrative is not interested in reporting the truth. Its purpose is to celebrate the Lady as a Saint figure and vilify her opponents, disregarding their reasons, their feelings, their insight of the events entirely.

So, it’s not so difficult to believe that underneath all the twists and the lies, in this version of the story there is a grain of truth; that, in a way, Anharion did betray willingly the Lady. Maybe he understood that the so righteous Lady was, in fact, not that pure and good. Maybe, at the culmination of the fight, he somehow hesitated to kill Sarcean, because he was a human being, not just a cold hearted betrayer. All factors that would of course be excluded from this narrative, for they would expose the Lady’s true face.

At this point this is all but speculations, but one thing is certain, and this takes us to the second point: it’s canon that Anharion had feelings for Sarcy. Before the Collar.

I would not call it ‘undying love’ at this point of the story, but the affection is there. Palpable, visible, corporeal in glances and words. This is, like, a HUGE revelation.

Because this proves that the narrative told by Gauthier is not the truth either!

While I believe that the Collar has some kind of power (I’ll explain this too), in the Gauthier’s version of the story, it’s clear that the emphasis on the submitting part of this power comes from the desire to possess Anharion, from the (false) conviction passed on for generations that whoever put it around his neck would master him. I suspect it consumed not only Gauthier himself, but also every member of his family who owned the Collar before him.

In the end both narratives, pushing for their own agenda, give an insight on the relationship between Sarcean and Anharion not only false but also humiliating for Anharion, for he is depicted as a selfish, cold hearted betrayer where his own agency is totally dismissed (and not even mentioned) in one, and a plaything slave of the Collar in the other.

The truth is far more complex than this, of course, and the one million dollar question about it is then: how much influence did have the Collar on the true nature of their relationship?

In these days I have read a lot of theories about this. One of my favourites is the one depicting the Collar as a mere object of fashion without any power and Anharion not only conscious but also willing the whole time and the fact that this may be hinted in the text makes me feel unhinged (if this is true, you will hear me screaming about it for years)

In my opinion, and I will believe this until I read the third book, the Collar has some kind of power on James/Anharion but not in the way it has been described so far. This is but a mere speculation for the moment, but maybe this power leans more on binding Anharion’s magic to Sarcean’s than controlling his free will or feelings. (this bit in DH is soooo interesting!!!)

I’m convinced that the Collar cannot create something that is not there and that underneath its power, it’s clear that Anharion had conflicted feelings for Sarcean, he always had, because James REMEMBERS feeling this even with the Collar:

This means those conflicted feelings are still there and are not magically morphed by the Collar into pure and simple obedience and that whatever Anharion felt was real, whatever James feels is real, contradictions and all.

We still know so little about this two at this point, and since Pacat really loves plot twists, I believe that their real story will come out in the end and that Will and James will achieve what their past selves couldn’t had, unravelling the conflicts and the misunderstandings between them, and conquering the freedom they search in each other’s arms to be just Will and James.

I had fun writing this, please feel free to give me your opinion on this!

(PS. I think I needed to specify that this whole rambling is focused on Anharion’s feelings. What about Sarcy? I believe his feelings were a deadly cocktail of desire, affection, possessiveness, admiration and horny thoughts, like the disaster babygirl he was, thanks for your attention)

[navyinks]

“Death of Hyacinthus”

Out of jealousy, the west wind Zephyrus causes Apollo's discus to strike Hyacinthus and kill him. Apollo creates hyacinths from the prince's blood so that his soul lives on through the flowers.

For composition & characters, I took inspiration from Tiepolo’s “Death of Hyacinthus” and Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus.”

Follow-up piece from the Apollo/Hyacinthus I painted last year. Notes, process & closeups can be found below the cut

This is an experimental piece, where I wanted to make use of value, contrasting gradients, and shape to direct the composition.

Unfortunately, the drapery didn’t work out and I ended up having to get creative with enlarging Zephyrus’ wings and playing with the atmosphere & clouds behind him to get the same gestural movement within the painting. In hindsight, it was probably a good thing I didn’t paint the drapery, as it would have started getting repetitive with Apollo’s cape.

Also up to this point, everything was painted with an airbrush on one layer, because I wanted a good brushwork challenge. I think it should usually be the other way around, but my rendering is really poor on paper and even worse digitally lol;;

The soft airbrush step took about a week, and then I sat down for a day and put in the hard edges & finished rendering pretty quickly. I reckon it’s a pretty neat way to work lol

I have to thank Britt Snyder, who is awesome and gave me heaps of guidance for the composition in the initial stages, and in the final detailing. He introduced some really nice suggestions to the painting, which really makes the whole piece pop.

Zephyrus - neutral expression in the first few iterations, but this looks more interesting i reckon lol. I personally really liked the soft airbrush effect and the hard edge on the wing & felt pretty validated when Britt pointed it out too xD

Apollo and Hyacinthus - this is where I wanted the focal point to be. Transitioning from dark background -> light sun -> dark hair -> light skin -> dark features was a deliberate attempt to increase contrast in the area & draw the eye to it first. I think it was pretty successful?

Hyacinths growing out of the blood. I didn’t really want these to stand out too much.

ANYWAY thanks for reading, this is my first finished painting of 2023 and i’m pretty happy with it, DEFINITELY not perfect but with everything that’s happened this year? life is tough and bleak and i will take this small win xD

[sco07ut]

how did i feel about the way rvb19 treated iys female characters:

dylan: weird???? she felt so mischaracterised. between that and the new voice she fully felt like a new character ☹️ it also felt like she was forced in for like no reason. in s15 she seemed to be like a pretty esteemed journalist so idk why she would be stammering on stage in a nearly empty comic con. peculiar and i think they could’ve made the intro so much better if it had been a bit more like s15. dylan having some sort of interview maybe, talking about the disappearance of the rnbs and still getting cut off by the meta but in a way that like actually feels like her ? like she wasn’t particularly afraid of spencer porkinsensen (or whatever the fuck he was called)

kai: i was hoping she’d get a cameo but christ not that short. where in the name of god was my kai + grif interaction. i also think she could’ve killed the meta with sheer cunt force alone, my girl was held back !!!! also so disappointed that she never got to see tex again

sheila: i was not expecting you!!!! but it’s so good to see you again. did they rescue her from charon or something?? honestly quite sweet.

479er: Really wasn’t expecting you ! she contributed to the plot really nicely, it didn’t feel like she was forced in at all. it would’ve been nice to see more of her though, i feel like her scenes happened Very quickly. i also would’ve loved to see her interact with the other freelancers (particularly carolina and tex) but whatever i can’t complain too much about her

grey: what did they do to you!!!!!!! who are you!!!!! you are not the emily grey i know and love!! you would have so much more consideration for wash ☹️ another case of being mischaracterised so bad that i fully didn’t realise it was grey until wash said her name. this might also be because the infinite armour looks absolutely nothing like her but i don’t know jack abt infinite so i can’t really say anything

tex: I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I CANNOT BELIEVE RT ACTUALLY ACKNOWLEDGED HER PAST ENDING WAS SO DIRTY. wish she had maybe had a small conversation with the rnbs but honestly her saying ‘and in their memories i always kicked their asses’ was enough. she knows she’s the woman ever. i wasn’t expecting her to get sucked into the unit though :( like i suppose it makes sense to let her finally rest with whatever iteration of church was created when the ais merged but man i was looking forward to her joining the rnbs again and like idk getting to know her daughter properly this time?? severely missing tex and carolina content

carolina: where did you even come from girl!! where were you before you dropped out of the sky!!!!! i also wish she had spoke to the others & had like an actual scene where she was told sarge was dead bc they had like a weird little friendship going on and he’s just gone !! i feel like she barely did anything. she just dropped into the fight, did fuck all, and then revealed that wash has apparently been hallucinating the dead body of doc. erm

bonus ct + south: ct’s speech was alr i guess it wasn’t particularly memorable but it was nice that she was included tbh. though i was surprised south was in the freelancer lineup given she lowk bullied wash idk

in conclusion: my girls deserved better

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Like seriously. Way too much angst.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬  Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 construct different iterations of the simple human notion of waking up.

It was primarily described as a flutter of eyelashes—a realm of white that greeted the senses before giving way to a cascade of other colors. Then, there were instances where it was tingling whispers and the slight pressures of one’s touch that evoked the need to open your eyes and welcome consciousness.

When she was young, Y/N tried to find the truth behind those saccharine descriptions. Time and time again, she’d wake up, but whether it was her natural instincts or someone calling for her consciousness, coming to was never as gentle as described. It was an instant action, her mind urging her to open her eyes.

Her lashes would barely flutter before she took in her surroundings. And contrary to the books, the thoughts of the night before never occurred to her. She barely even remembered which side of the bed she had slept on.

But, for some reason, today was different.

Waking up felt less urgent. It was like her body was in a state of purgatory, caught between wanting to indulge in the placidity of unconsciousness and the need to be free from its confines. For the first time, Y/N felt aware of her surroundings before her lashes had left each other’s embrace.

It started with steady thumps, like the ebb and flow of a river, but admittedly, a little sharper. It infiltrated her ears, causing a slight furrow in the middle of her brows. An involuntary twitch of her fingers forced the numbness in her arm to dissipate, the pads of her fingers brushing against soft sheets.

She heard a groan next. She felt it, to be precise, clawing against the walls of her own throat—impersonating the breath she was trying to release. This sensation was different from all the other times she’d woken up. Even when she had taken hits in the past as part of the Avengers Initiative, waking up didn’t feel this jarring.

“Y/N,” she heard a voice, soft and dulcet—juxtaposing the sound she’d released earlier. “Y/N, it’s Steve. Can you hear me, doll?”

Yes, she tried to say, but the word remained a fleeting thought.

The soft sheets beneath her shifted, the bed dipping down. A hand caressed her arm, tethering her to the moment. It wasn’t Steve, as far as she knew. The hand may have been scarred and the fingers calloused, but they still held the daintiness of a female’s hands.

The woman didn’t speak. She only traced Y/N’s forearm, coaxing her mind to wake. It was then that Y/N felt a shift in her surroundings. The touch wasn’t surface-level. It penetrated her cells, echoing within the nucleus of her atoms. The beeping sounds inundated her ears, assaulting her eardrums with their discordance.

The caresses persisted, trailing her entire arm, while the woman behind them spoke, “Y/N, sweetheart, calm down. You’re safe.”

Natasha. The realization hit Y/N with full force. Natasha and Steve were with her, surrounded by these jarring noises and what she predicted to be a sterile room from the scent that wafted around her.

Ever so slowly, her eyelids fluttered, lashes releasing themselves from their confines. It took four spaced blinks for her vision to clear, the haze giving way to the bright blue walls and the medical equipment.

Medical Bay was Y/N’s second thought. But try as she might, her head couldn’t wrap around her reason for being here. Instead, it focused on finding Steve and Natasha, each on one side of her bed.

Natasha smiled down softly at her. Her forest green eyes, which were calculating in nature, softened. “You gave us quite a fright.”

“We’re glad to have you back,” Steve added gently.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but she wasn’t sure she could get the words out with how scratchy her throat felt. Steve regarded her carefully, wasting no time reaching over her bedside table and pouring her a glass of water. She accepted the glass with a solemn nod, gulping down the liquid.

While the water wasn’t cold by a long shot, its temperature was cool enough to tame the scalding heat in Y/N’s throat.

“Thank you.” Thankfully, her voice was clearer now, although it didn’t rise above a low hum. “How long was I out?”

Steve and Natasha exchanged a quick look, the former fidgeting with his hands. Maybe it was the question, or the ones they knew would ultimately follow. But something about this whole ordeal weighed a lot heavier than Y/N anticipated.

“Almost three days,” Nataha relayed. Simple and straightforward as she always was.

Y/N took the answer at face value, her mind journeying back to the events she last remembered. It was a bit fuzzy, flashes of her last mission here and there. Fridgidness invaded her senses without prior notice as images of Antarctica filled her head. 

Steve must’ve caught her tremors, possibly mistaking them for anxiousness. He carefully situated himself on the small hospital bed, his blue-green eyes calling for attention. “How much do you remember?”

“Not much,” Y/N admitted. It was like a mental wall had built up in her mind. Her senses seemed to be on overdrive. And for someone gifted with the power of emotional manipulation, she struggled greatly to rein them in.

“We had a mission in Antarctica. SHIELD gathered some intel about… about Hydra. Asked us to investigate.”

"The mission was a trap," Natasha stated with a sharp edge to her tone, casting a pointed glance at Steve. Y/N observed the tension between them Unlike him, Natasha didn't mince her words. "Hydra knew we were coming and set their enhanced soldiers on the loose. Unfortunately, you bore the brunt of it."

“Nat,” Steve reprimanded. His eyebrow arched, eyes wordlessly communicating his thoughts. 

Natasha showed no signs of relenting. “What's your point?”

“She just regained consciousness.”

“Congratulations, Captain Obvious. But in case you haven't noticed, I'm already aware.” 

Steve sighed, “Romanoff, I mean it. Let's not overwhelm her.”

“Coming from the one who started all of this.”

“I was giving her headnotes. Not the gory details you were seconds away from indulging her in.”

“Steve,” Y/N interjected, her tone reflecting her evident wishes.

Knowing he had lost this battle, Steve ruefully nodded. He shifted in his seat while Natasha leaned back on the bed as if offering Steve the floor to speak.

“The mission was meant to be recon,” he began, his words like ripping off a bandaid. He seemed eager to get it over with, to avoid prolonging the discomfort. His discomfort. “We were tasked with infiltrating a Hydra base to gather intel on their new program. SHIELD discovered they were developing enhanced soldiers, still in a dormant phase.”

A spark of recognition lit up in Y/N’s eyes. “The Winter Program,” she declared.

“Yes,” Steve confirmed, his voice tinged with regret. “That’s the one.”

He paused, uncertain whether to proceed or give Y/N space to remember. She wondered what had occurred during the mission to spur his hesitation. She tried to reach out to him, to soothe his compunction, but before she could command her powers, something stirred inside her.

Her powers. The reminder struck her like a crashing wave. Her hands involuntarily retreated to her sides, causing Natasha to jump in alarm. Y/N exchanged a worried glance with Steve, feeling the weight of her emotions swirling inside her.

“They took my powers. An agent from Hydra, Pavel! He took my powers, and he... James!” Y/N nearly bellowed her boyfriend’s name.

Her breathing turned shallow as her mind floundered with images from the last mission. She recalled the anxiety she had felt when she discovered the seventh pod. How her heart plummeted at the sight of the onyx engraving on the plaque—The Fist of Hydra. Her stomach churned at the thought, tears clouding her eyes as she remembered how Bucky had struggled to free himself from the invisible ward that kept him from her. How he fought against Pavel's orders to kill her. 

“Barnes is fine, Y/N,” Natasha reassured her. 

Y/N’s voice cracked. “I don’t remember.” A lonesome tear trailed down the length of her cheek, landing on her chapped lips. “I think he caught me after I fell? I remember a knife. But after that… after that, I don’t remember anything.”

It pained her to feel trapped in the darkness of uncertainty. No matter how much she urged herself to journey back, it was as if her brain was mired in the present, steadfastly refusing to be swayed. She could vividly recount the details of Pavel’s heinous face, the large scar that traversed down his right eye, and the upturned lips that were too sinister to forget. But that’s as far as her memory could take her. 

Steve caressed her hair, his fingers soothingly pressing against her scalp while his thumb traced an arc behind her ear with the slightest bit of pressure. Her tears didn’t cease, yet her breath caught in her throat, a demure whimper almost escaping her lips.

James, she thought. James must’ve taught him that.

“There was static on the end of Bucky’s line. He picked up on it, talking slowly and clearly to let us know you both were in trouble. We rushed as fast as we could, but the soldiers fighting us slowed us down,” Steve explained.

Natasha nodded, adding with a voice so dulcet that no one outside the Avengers could have known she was capable of such gentleness. “He was scared, котенок. Asked you to run and hide from him. By the time we arrived at the lower levels, he was already chasing you.”

“The Hydra agent had a weapon which destabilized our powers,” Steve added. “Tony’s suit malfunctioned, and Clint’s arrows wavered from their original course. One accidentally hit Hulk, and he got so angry, he knocked down the vents.”

Y/N gasped, “I was in there.”

He stared down at his lap, wringing his fingers together. “You were.”

She recalled it then. Her memory wasn’t lucid by a long shot, but her mind paved an avenue and led her across its cobbled path. The way Bucky begged her to run, the silver tears that dimmed his electric blue eyes, and the disassociation he faced when the Winter Soldier clawed his way from the abyss to the surface of James’ consciousness. 

“I told him I loved him,” Y/N admitted. The words were breathless, weightless on her tongue. “I—He tried to slit my throat, but I told him I loved him. He stopped.”

It could’ve been the senses that were now on overdrive, or it could’ve been the force behind the memory itself. But Y/N landed back on her pillow. Her body isolated itself from her surroundings, and her thoughts thrust her back to her past encounter with Bucky. 

Pandemonium hailed around her. The screams of her teammates were deafening, and the fear that gripped her added its own touch of discordance.

Bucky was long gone. There was no sign of the man she had grown to love and understand. 

Y/N felt like a deceiver as she stared down at death, molded in a steely knife and prophesied by a haunted soldier. Just hours before, she assured Bucky that everything would be alright—that they’d both find their way back home, safe and sound. 

She knew Bucky would. There was no way in hell that Steve would allow him to lose himself one more second to Hydra. But how would he feel when he came to be and discovered the gravity of his actions?

‘I don’t want my own violent dispositions to threaten the home that I’ve built with you.’ It echoed in her head. The words he’d used when they addressed his insecurities and concerns about the mission. 

A pained whimper followed the thought, and Y/N had a hard time wrapping her mind around it. Was it the memory of Bucky? Or was it the result of the soldier’s assault on her neck? 

Bucky and the Soldat. She scoffed then, but was it audible? She didn’t know. He had tried to warn her, distinctly describing Hydra’s creation as a menace—a monster from the depths of history’s wintry tales.

But she refused to see him as such. She knew this reaction was triggered by his fears, not by a thirst for destruction or a penchant for mayhem. The weathered dominion that harbored his darkness was not his choice to inhabit. If only Y/N had her powers, she would have rescued him from it.

Her powers. The missing link. The catalyst that would alter the equation. 

Y/N was never one for dependability. She never clung to her powers more than necessary, establishing an identity beyond their grasp. How pitiful did she feel then, having no means to survive but a set of implicit energy bestowed upon her for reasons unknown? 

The soldier grunted then, the edge of his knife sinking beneath her skin. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that Y/N had been denied her powers, or else the pain would have been too crippling.  

Maybe she died before the knife had even touched her. What kind of Avenger was she if she couldn’t survive a hit? As powerful as the Winter Soldier was said to be, was she truly so lamentable that she couldn’t fight her way outside of his grasp without manipulating his emotions?

Emotions. Emotions! That was it!

‘I’m convinced that even without your enhanced abilities, you would still be the only person able to influence my emotions.’

She cried at the memory. Bucky wasn’t fazed in the slightest, muscles rippling as he prepared to deliver the final blow. Y/N caught his wrist then, her knees digging into the dirtied ground.

"James," she implored, but not for the reasons he believed. Apathy marred his face, impatience unmistakably clear. "You’re good. You’re so good, James." He froze, his body still for a second. It was working. Y/N held onto that silver lining, wetting her lips as she hastily continued. "You don’t resemble these people. You’re James Barnes—my James Barnes. And my James is not a monster."

“прекрати.”

“I won’t stop. I can’t. You’re not theirs to control anymore. You don’t belong to them. You belong to yourself. And everything about you is so beautiful. Every part of you is worthy of love.” His knife dug deeper in warming, but Y/N didn’t relent even though her voice started to fade. “I’m not afraid of you. How can I be when I love you? I love you in all your nuances and dispositions. No matter who you are or who you think you ought to be, you'll always be my home.”

She repeated the words she had told him that day, syllables and vowels reverberating in the confined space between their rising chests. Bucky stilled, his frantic gaze hovering over her neck as if he was reining in his emotions and calling for every bit of control meshed in his veins.

His chest rose violently in contrast to Y/N’s shallow breaths. For the first time in a long while, their heartbeats didn’t match. He closed his eyes then, willing composure.

Bucky barred his teeth. He screamed, his fury bellowing across the base. Y/N closed her eyes, the sound assaulting her heart. There was a thud, a yelp, and a handful of chaos before the storm ended, and she found herself drifting against the silent shore.

"The weapon developed by Hydra was some kind of destabilizer. It served to hijack weaponry and intelligent systems. In your and Bucky’s case, it functioned as a neural stimulus."

“Emotional manipulation,” Y/N deduced.

Steve squeezed her hand. “They developed a formula that replicated your powers. When the discs attached, it subdued your abilities. As for Bucky, it had a different effect.”

“How so?”

“Shuri may have erased the trigger words from Bucky’s mind. But even she couldn’t mend his scars.”

Steve didn't continue, but the tension in his jaw and the sharpness in his voice conveyed what he didn't say.

“Is James back?” Y/N’s eyes were contoured silver as she quietly asked the question.

“No,” Natasha stated bluntly, her words piercing Y/N’s heart like daggers. “Not yet.”

“How so?” Y/N pressed further, watching the silent exchange between Steve and Natasha.

Natasha spoke first. “We're not entirely sure.” How unhelpful.

“You said something to him before you passed out,” Steve supplied. His shoulders hunched as he recalled the events of the days that had passed. “The only reason he went into Winter Soldier mode was the false environment that disc placed him in. But you altered his emotional response somehow. He charged at the Hydra agent and almost killed him had Tony and I not interfered.”

“What happened after?”

“He rushed to your side and stripped the top half of his suit to warm you up. You were bloody, bruised, and cold to the touch. He didn’t waste a second transporting you to the Quinjet.” 

“James?” Wistfulness filled Y/N’s voice. 

Steve’s lips thinned, extinguishing her hope. “More like Bucky and the Soldat.”  

It was silent for a while, Y/N contemplating Steve’s words. She bit on her lower lip, concentration etched on her features. Eventually, she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Both you and the Hydra agent manipulated Barnes’ emotional wireframe, almost at the same time. His two personalities clashed, bringing both of them to the forefront of his mind,” Natasha explained. 

“Couldn’t no one fix this?” Y/N paused, fumbling with all of the questions she wanted to ask. “Not Bruce or Dr. Cho? Tony?”

Natasha offered a sympathetic smile. "They would have if he had allowed them to."

A surge of pain jolted through Y/N's mind, causing her to whimper involuntarily. She slumped back in her seat, arms shielding her eyes from the sudden onslaught. A burning sensation in her heart clashed with the prickling in her brain, intensifying her discomfort. Natasha and Steve stiffened beside her, clearly alarmed by her abrupt distress.

"Could you please give it to me like it is?" Y/N lowered her arms, her eyes reflecting raw irritation. "There's an excruciating pain in my head that even Dr. Cho's medications can't seem to alleviate. So, please. I'm barely holding onto enough energy to speak, and I can't keep demanding answers for three days’ worth of questions. What happened after I passed out?"

A tense silence followed her outburst. Despite her claim of exhaustion, Y/N delivered her impassioned plea without faltering. She narrowed her eyes at Natasha and Steve, silently willing her powers to extend beyond her body. While she typically refrained from such actions, reserving her powers for missions or with prior consent, the waiting was becoming unbearable.

Fortunately, the Super Soldier Serum did little to conceal emotions from her perception. However, what Y/N both appreciated and resented about it was its amplification of human emotions.

Pain, guilt, and anxiety flooded her senses, instantly discernible. She tugged at these emotions, using them to articulate her own discomfort.

Though Steve disapproved of her actions, evident in his hands-on-hips stance, he relented nonetheless. “Bucky wouldn’t allow anyone to touch you. He was feral. Unpredictable. The moment Bruce reached out to check your pulse, Bucky lunged at him. It took all of us to pry him off so Sam could examine you. You suffered a lot of injuries, Y/N. The twenty-hour flight was unbearable. And—”

Captain America was known for his resilience. It was widely recognized that even in the face of adversity, he would bend but never break. Yet, in this instance, that wasn’t the case. Steve clenched his fists, his teeth biting into his skin. Y/N’s own hands clutched the fibers of her hospital gown tightly. Through the emotional connection she had opened between herself and Steve, a wave of anguish swept over her. Raw and scorching, it consumed her from the inside out.

Steve, ever perceptive, noticed her distress. He let out a long breath, gently rubbing Y/N’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I should have waited a while before using my powers.”

Steve nodded subtly, taking a full minute to compose himself before resuming. “You weren’t breathing, hanging onto life by a thread. You coded, Y/N. Twice. Bucky… he nearly tore the entire jet apart in a fit of rage. Your heart rate disconcerting, and every shallow breath you took was followed by Bucky’s wails or the Soldat’s furious cries. It went on like that for grueling hours, and I never wished more for Doctor Strange to be on speed dial.”

“We had Cho on speed dial, though,” Natasha added. Despite her composed tone, Y/N sensed an underlying tension. “She said you wouldn’t make it.”

“But I did.”

“By some miracle, you did,” Natasha smiled wearily.

It was hard to fathom how much could unfold in just three days. Skipping a day at SHIELD Academy seemed trivial compared to skipping a day in the life of the Avengers. Y/N's chest tightened as she drew in a deep breath. Tears welled up in her eyes this time, filled with her own sorrow and sadness. She reached out for Steve’s hand, seeking physical comfort. He gladly obliged.

“James?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. It was her final question, her last plea, before succumbing to her overwhelming emotions.

“Unconsolable.” So it was as she feared. “When Cho told us you wouldn’t make it, he almost pried the jet’s latch from its hinges. We… I had to knock him out. By some miracle, your body fought tooth and nail until we arrived and Cho put you in the cradle. When Bucky woke up, a part of him was still the Soldat. We tried to get him help, but he refused. Called it his retribution for your pain. Your pain and your absence were already leading him to the brink of insanity. So, if you wouldn’t be the one to bring him back, then he’d rather stay broken the way that he deserves to be.”

“His words?” Y/N asked. Steve nodded solemnly. “Where is he now?”

“Solitary confinement,” Natasha supplied. 

“Why?”

“You already know.”

“Can I see him? Please?” Y/N implored.

Steve and Natasha understood that denying her request was not an option. They both relented, with Steve giving her hand one final squeeze and Natasha planting a kiss on the crown of her head. Moving in sync, they headed toward the door. Aware of their keen senses, Y/N didn’t care to hide her feelings any longer. They had barely crossed the threshold when she let out a piercing shriek, unleashing all of her pent-up emotions.

She could feel her restrained powers clawing at her soul, the agony and pain twisting within her muscles. Most of all, she sensed Bucky, confined in his cell, grappling with his demons. She cursed Hydra for their atrocities, past and present. And she reluctantly admitted that a part of her cursed her own abilities too because, just this once, Y/N wished she didn’t feel so deeply.

Hi witchlings! Ramadan Mubarak to all my fellow Muslims observing these blissful days! I'm sorry it took me so long to post this, but I was not in the right headspace to write. I hope I made it up with a nice angsty chapter. On a brighter note, this series is getting one more chapter before it's finished. I hope you're excited for it!🩷

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn @justafangir1

Series Taglist: @msoldier @kandis-mom @nobodycanknoww

: ̗̀➛Read Chapter 5 -TRUTHS - here!!

[playertale-au]

[NOTICE] Thank you for the 300+ followers. To celebrate, bits of PLAYER!Tale AU concept( regarding Player) is shared

Reposting because Tumblr decided to post instead of saving it in drafts when I'm not even finished. Love you tumblr!  (╯ᐛ）╯︵ ┻━┻

◇◇◇◇◇

A/N: 

Oh, wow! We actually reach 300+ (as of now 310) followers!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ 

Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart, I’m glad all of you enjoyed the story despite my art not being that good. I actually wanted to draw for 250 followers but I didn’t realised we passed that milestone. 

Anyways! To celebrate, I wanted to share some concepts regarding the Player based on my memories, though sorry if there is like a black blotched in the drawing as that is considered as spoilers.

To start off, I began creating this AU maybe 5/6 years ago, on and off, (re-writing or removing some stuff along the way) I had loads of concept art and drawings back in 2019 but sadly those old arts were, ummm, forcedly deleted after a disagreement with someone I trusted, haha. The pain for a FT user in ibis paint. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ

Then 2023, I wanted to move forward. So I decided to give it a shot and start drawing again. I wanted to share my AU (better late than ever),＼＼\(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶//／／ and also I thought it will help overcome my fear of drawing and start liking to draw again.

Anyway, here we have Player’s design concept (+ explanation):

Version 1:

Player actually does not inhibit Frisk’s body, as they are not trap in the game, instead, they have their own “Avatar” basing on the data and sprites of Frisk and Chara. (The situation is more towards VR? AR? I’m not sure what to call it) The Player has their memories intact.

The story is just Player goofing around in Undertale, until plot happens, but I didn’t really like the idea as I have no clue how to progress the story forward, so the whole story was re-written.

Player mostly hack codes, while Frisk has the Reset/Reload button.

Initially, their eyes didn’t change colour when using abilities. But I wanted to distinguish what and when the abilities are used.

Version 2:

This is where, I decided that the Player actually inhibits Frisk body, though they are not amnesiac. Frisk is like a ghost (narrator?) here. The image above is post-skip version to maybe 1 year trapped in Undertale. This idea was scrap and rewritten due “Chara” ‘s story and I wanted to involved Gaster in the story. (Also, because I didn’t want to draw this version hairstyle anymore, hahaha (  ≧ᗜ≦))

Player has both the hacking and reset/reload abilities.

This version of Player is more uptight and serious.

Version 3:

I think this is like 2nd or 3rd version of the finalise concept. 

Our current Player. I made the hairstyle simpler.

This Player inhibits Frisk body and is amnesiac. The personality shifted so it’s easier for the player to act consistent. This version is more carefree than ver 2, they are similar to ver 1.

First design of the Player (ver 3).

Despite being ver 3, I wanted to keep a bit of the ver 1 and 2 hairstyle but decided not to. Again, I wanted a simpler hairstyle.

This personality is just them being stress and filled with anxiety. A nervous wreck and a crybaby. Cries a lot at the first arc until they pull themselves together. But I didn’t wanna make them cry all throughout the story, if I continued to write them like that, I might ended up smacking Player myself hahaha. I ended up toning down the personality. 

Gaster would have replace Frisk as the ghost (narrator?). But I decided not doing it, because it conflict with the plot. That, and the story would be over much quicker with him around.

Side note: I had to change the relationship between Sans and the Player(hate, confuse, no interaction, chill, idk? etc), a lot of times, but in the end I decided to make him not trust the Player. 

Previously in most iteration, he just hates Player.  I planned to have him to kill the Player the first time they exited the ruins, but decided to go against it as it doesn’t really fit his style. Also, the story would go very differently if he did commit to it. Maybe one day I can make him kill them. In an alternate timeline maybe. ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª

Extras: Player in different outfits (loosely)based on the other fallen humans in this AU. (+ ruin outfit)

There is a reason, why the Player had worn some of these outfits in chapter 3 and 4. 

Don’t worry, it’s not originally the clothes worn by the other children, Toriel made them. She has spares. (Sorry, to the one that find it creepy, when it was first shown, hahahaha)

And, that’s all for now I am able to share, I wanted to show more, but I’m afraid, that’s already in the spoiler territory. 

Anyways-! Thank you again for the follow, each and every one of you are the best! And I hope you enjoyed the upcoming story! 

[onboardsorasora]

Okay so baby badger meets current max. He has no idea what anything around him is because it’s very distinctly not Perth, but there’s this blond blue eyed guy with a lip mole who looks trustworthy (maxiel are magnets no matter the situation)

And max has never heard of Daniel’s high pitched baby badger voice and he’s just so emotional about this kid version of his favorite person thinking that he, Max Verstappen, is the most trustworthy person in a strange place

Ahhh this took me so long bestie lol I don't even know if this is good T_T

Theres a part 2

There was a displaced yelp and Max walked quickly into the backyard where the sound originated. He froze midstep, blinking owlishly at the child on the almost too big bicycle looking at him with large brown eyes. Eyes that Max found to be very familiar.

The little boy scrambled off of his bike, the training wheels helping him to keep steady as he slid backwards off of the seat. He couldn’t quite get his leg over the bar in the middle– his dad always lifted him up. He took off his Dad’s helmet and looked around at the unfamiliar yard. This wasn’t his backyard. He didn’t see the large tree or his tree house, or his mom’s garden. 

Max watched as the little boy wiped at his eyes with a small fist before licking the large red ring pop candy clutched in his other hand. His face was startlingly familiar, one he would never forget in any iteration. He hadn’t grown into his nose as yet.

“Daniel?” Max called softly. He slowly walked towards the boy in the middle of his backyard. The little boy’s eyes widened and he licked his candy again, head tilting shyly.

Max knelt in front of him, a fair distance away so as to give him space and not seem intimidating. He smiled kindly.

“Hi, I'm Max. Is your name Daniel?” Max’s eyes crinkled as the boy focused his attention on his candy and nodded softly, contorting himself like only kids could.

“Hi Daniel. It is lovely to meet you. You don’t know it yet, but we’re best friends.”

Max had heard of this before, when people kind of…. Exchanged places with other versions of themselves. He didn’t really know how it worked, but it was something that happened. He’d never experienced it before, and never seen it happen til now. 

Daniel watched Max through the corner of his eye. He didn’t know where he was, but he seemed ok. Maybe? He didn’t know. Daniel sniffled and his eyes watered and he hurriedly wiped at his face when the man’s eyes widened. 

“Oh Daniel please don’t cry!” Max hurried. “We can make pizza? And and watch some tv maybe?”

“Ok.” Daniel agreed, his voice a higher pitch than Max knew. Max melted.

Daniel’s shoulders shook but he nodded, scraping at his eyes. Max gently took a smaller hand in his, smiling weakly at the water honey eyes that looked up at him when he stood. He led them back into the house and lifted Daniel to sit on the countertop. He needed to order a pizza and call Christian because he was sure that the factory in Italy was missing a driver.

[to-eat-laugh-love-in-peace]

I wouldn’t be surprised if there were at least a few people who didn’t believe the general consensus that Vash the Stampede was the villain behind the July’s destruction and the deaths of 90% of its population just because he’s Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon, the man who will slaughter the innocent, who does the most evil of evil deeds for the price of 60 billion double dollars on head, because in Tristamp, even before Lost July took place, there were a couple of details about Vash that didn’t seem to add up like how the stolen Plants were being brought to July City when it was the same city that put a bounty on Vash’s head for supposedly running around stealing Plants from all over the planet in the first place as seen in the city’s symbol stamped on the corner of his old wanted poster.

I do wonder though not only how much Meryl decided to or was able to include in her article following Lost July assuming she was even able to get her article published but also how she’s seen and treated by the general populace in Tristamp because not only is she a reporter in this iteration but also its one thing for her to defend Vash after he blew a large crater in the fifth moon. It's another thing for her to defend Vash after he blew a large crater where the wealthiest and largest city in No Man’s Land used to be. I mean in the dub the radio host even outright says that if they were the demon who turned the city into a crater overnight, they’d hide their face too because they doubt that the mob of mourners who had gathered to pay their respects to the friends and families they’ve lost for the two-year anniversary of the incident would be so quick to forgive while she's in the truck on her way to the memorial she put up for Roberto.

And in Trimax and even 98’ Vash had people actively going after him because of what happened in July like that fancily dressed Plant engineer who sent an assassin after him and then later locked him in a room with a soon to be exploding Plant to kill him even if it meant endangering an entire city, the old lady had hired an assassin to kill Vash in volume 6 chapter 5 because her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchild had been one of the many who died in July, and Brilliant Dynamites Neon had revealed to have been prepared to kill Vash for some time since July during their duel on the sand steamer in volume 1 chapter 8 with Vash even outright asking him if he had folks who lived in July when the incident took place after he asked him why there weren’t any corpses to be found in the ruins of July City.

So I wonder if Meryl has had even a fraction of the ire those who’d lost friends, family, loved ones in July had towards Vash directed towards her during the two years Vash spent in hiding with Lina and Sheryl as Eriks because not only did she likely go around No Man’s Land literally being the devil’s advocate during that time, as she'd said so herself that its her duty as a member of the press to clear his name if proves himself innocent, but she had also been announced on the radio in episode four to be a possible accomplice of Vash’s who the military police were looking to bring in as a person of interest alongside Roberto, with Roberto mentioning how if word of this got out to HQ then they’d be sacked.

Speaking of Brilliant Dynamites Neon, I think that he and Meryl could be set up to have a confrontation in S2 for this very reason. Which would be very cool to see since these two haven’t interacted much outside of her and Milly disguising themselves as members of the Bad Lads Gang to later back up Vash and Kaite when they’re cornered and then identifying Vash as the Vash the Stampede during the Bad Lads Gang's heist on the sand steamer in the ‘98 and Trimax

and leading to, in both iterations, Neon taking the time to ask Vash about what exactly happened in July that led to the city being destroyed and, in '98 its residents being left alive but homeless unemployed and impoverished leading them to fight and kill each other to survive in the fallout of the incident, and in Trimax being swallowed by a black hole leading to no survivors or even any corpses left to be found, which led Vash to ask him if he too had folks who were in July at the time of the incident and then admit that he just didn't remember much about July when asked if he had anything to do with it which Neon was forced to accept before the two had a duel

and then after Neon shot a rock about to crush Vash's head during their duel he was revealed to have been prepared to kill Vash for some time since July

only for him to decide spare him, for now at least, not having let go of his reasons for wanting revenge post-July to stay true to the terms of their duel.

Whereas in Tristamp Meryl was not only in July when the incident took place but also was there to witness firsthand what exactly happened that led to the city getting completely demolished and more than half of its population to have been killed by a large explosion. On top of that Meryl unlike Vash in '98 in Trimax and possibly in Tristamp didn't develop partial or complete amnesia following the traumatic incident and then there's also the fact that she's met the Bad Lads Gang when they took her and Roberto with them to the sandsteamer to take pictures of them during their heist to publish in the paper and this was a day before July 21st, meaning that those Bad Lads Gang members who were clearly shown fleeing by the time the ion cannon was being powered could identify her if they came across her again or even tried to find her two years later.

Like I imagine in S2, when Vash is brought back to the scene and he finds himself in another situation at a sand steamer where the Bad Lads Gang are involved, only Brilliant Dynamites Neon himself has made an appearance this time around (I’m not even going to begin to imagine just what details Studio Orange is going to keep or change about their first meeting, they’ve already changed a lot about how and when the Bad Lads Gang were introduced-) at some point a scene similar to the original where Meryl with Milly come to back Vash up while he goes up against Neon and his gang, and one of his goons recognizes Meryl as that woman who they got to take pictures of them during their heist on the sandsteamer a day before Lost July, who's been going around vouching for Vash the Stampede for the past two years after the incident, Neon connects the dots, asks about what happened in July, Vash doesn’t remember so he can’t answer, but Meryl does so she can.

Which would make it the first time Neon has ever gotten an answer to his question, whether or not he believes her is anyone’s guess since it just seems so impossible doesn’t matter. The fact that there isn’t a scene in either 98’ or Trimax where Neon and Vash meet up again to talk about July after Vash recovers his memories of the incident makes this a big deal as is. I do think that Vash met up with Neon off-screen to talk to him about it and that Neon might have gotten some form of closure from that, or maybe he hadn't and he still wanted Vash’s head on a silver platter, who knows, I certainly don’t, which is exactly why I think it’d be really cool to see in S2.

Also I do wonder why Neon wasn't on the ship at the time like he was visiting his folks in July only to be pulled away when he heard that the heist was a bust because the ship was taken off course and its ion cannon was locked and loaded to fire at Hopeland. And if Neon did have folks in July in Tristamp then what's their deal since while July seems like the perfect city for someone like Brilliant Dynamites Neon to have folks in, seeing as it’s big, it’s bright, it's opulent, able to afford all the bullets it wants thanks to having a monopoly on Hydro-Plants, as was described by Wolfwood, additional background info on the seven major cities posted on Studio Orange’s twitter having said that its citizens have to contribute to the city's development and pass a screening process in order to obtain citizenship, which is what keeps the city’s Plants from overworking themselves to a Last Run. @tristampparty

[oracleact]

You can totally choose to look past this cuz it might be a lot (Tw trauma?) I just got Carried, you know when Carrie (from the movie) she gets a bucked full of blood over her head on prom? A guy asked me out and to my surprise, I was blessed with ketchup, eggs and flour by him and his friends, the subway didn’t let me in and no Uber would accept me getting in a car, so I had to walk home. No one asked me what was wrong

I’m still processing that actually happened,. I’m assuming it’s bc of my weight, I’m tall and overweight, I mainly keeps things to myself, am a introvert, idk what other thing could be a reason besides my body. Could you please write a comfort scenario with the tmnt boys? Or one of them, you can choose, Could be platonic, romantic, idk, just reader (who’s usually friendly but don’t talk much about their romantic life cuz they don’t feel like it’s worth investing time, and when they finally decide to change that, thst happens) crying as a mess in front of them for the first time, saying they are tired of living in a body that feels more of a curse than anything,

It’s a lot, I know, you can delete this if you aren’t comfortable doing it (I’m 100% serious)

Thank you Eitherway and hope you have a good day

first of all, I’m so sorry that happened to you. back in high school, I was doused after classes so I can definitely understand your pain here. they are absolutely pathetic for even thinking about doing that to someone; they are total assholes because they acted on it too and I wish for it to haunt them one day when (or if) they mature. you did amazing on your way home that day - I hope that, with time, things will get better for you. you deserve great things. I haven’t written anything with all of the boys before but I wanted to give it a try for you to cheer you up. I wish you well, and I hope you can find comfort in our wonderful turtles!

« got your back »

tmnt x reader / angst + fluff

notes: 1.6k words, all turtles included, platonic relationship, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used,) first person pov, I was thinking of 2012 tmnt while writing this but it probably fits with most iterations.

I can’t believe I’m walking home in the dark, completely covered in miscellaneous goop. I’m glad I didn’t tell anyone about the date that was supposed to happen tonight because, if someone saw me right now, I don’t know what I would do. no public transport let me on covered in eggs and flour, the same for taxis, so now I’m stuck dragging myself home by my own two feet. they are awfully heavy despite my hurry to get back which doesn’t seem fair at all - it’s like my body is laughing at me in equal measure to the rest of the crowd back there.

put your head down and keep walking, put your head down and keep walking, put your—

“hey guys, look!” I stop in my tracks as soon as I hear that voice echo through the night sky. it sounded too much like mikey to simply ignore it.

“mikey, for the last time, shh! ninjas, remember?” that was definitely leo. they all must be up on a roof somewhere but I don’t dare to look up. my feet won’t move anymore regardless, they’re refusing to pick up and run. my body really does hate me tonight huh?

“mikey is right though, look down - hey there!” I slowly crane my neck towards the sound of their chatters and am met with possibly the worst sight I could see at this exact moment: all four of my mutant friends standing on a nearby roof, just as I suspected.

“hi everyone,” I give an awkward wave as they stare down at me.

“want to meet up at the entrance to the lair to hang? we’re just heading back,” raph calls out.

I need a plan, and fast.

thankfully, they can’t see that I’m covered in mush from where they are, but if I go to the lair then that will change. however, if I say ‘no’ to hanging out with them then they’ll get suspicious anyway and follow after me. they’re my best friends, my favourite thing in the whole world is hanging out with them. even if I genuinely can’t hang out we still find a loophole to be together.

either of these choices leaves me doomed to talk about this disaster of a night eventually so…

“sure, you go ahead and I’ll be there in a second.”

…I go with option one.

I knew the boys would get there first so I’ve had more time to come up with some lame lie before I face them: one point to me. I slap on a brave face and a ridiculously wide smile in the hopes that it would distract them from what I have going on all over my clothes. taking a deep breath, I turn the final corner to enter the lair.

“hey bud!” mikey bursts through the rest of the guys and comes skipping towards me. I freeze and simply wait for him to see me in the light. “woah, what happened to you?”

after hearing mikey’s question, everyone starts to crowd in around me, thinking I had been hurt or something on the way here. to their surprise, I have no cuts or scrapes…just a bunch of different types of produce in my hair. they begin to mutter more questions but my mind is too hazy to hear them clearly, opting to stand there and stare into the space behind them. leo notices me zoning out pretty quickly and leads me to the seating area in the middle of the lair by my arm, the rest of the boys following with worry in their eyes.

I sit down on the couch; raph bends down in front of me, donnie sits on my right, mikey hangs over the back of the couch to lean on my left, and leo rests his hands on my shoulders from behind me.

“who did this to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll punch them into the ground I swear to god—“

“raph, calm down. we need to know what happened first before we start going haywire.” I’ve never seen donnie look so aggravated before. it looks like he secretly wants to join in with raph’s immediate anger instead of acting ‘rationally’ this time.

“no need for punching anyone or anything ha! I— uh— tripped while I was walking home and fell straight into a pile of garbage surrounding a dumpster. how clumsy of me ha! I’m so silly. I wasn’t watching where I was going and it was dark so…” my words trail off as I finally look directly at my friends. none of them are believing this story at all.

“tell us the truth, it’s alright. you’re safe here.” leo speaks with such a warm tone, it makes holding back my tears even harder than it already was.

“I’m fine! I promise I’m fine, really I just tripped!” I force my lips into a thin line, trying to twist them into some kind of smile, until mikey pokes at my cheek. I turn to him.

“please tell us what’s wrong.” is he giving me puppy eyes? damn it mikey…

I couldn’t push back my tears any longer and the flood gates exploded. I was in hysterics, sobbing so loudly it bounced off the walls of the lair. I couldn’t stop, each sob rippled through me and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. the boys cooed at me, all of them placing a hand somewhere on my body to ground me and to let me know that I’m not alone as I cried. they tried still asking me questions but I couldn’t get out any words, only heartbreaking whimpers left my mouth. they accepted their fate of silent sobs though and simply stayed beside me.

after a while, I’ve calmed down slightly, and I see the boys look at each other and nod in the corner of my blurry eyes. then, all of a sudden, raph and leo run off. they come back not long after with a basin of water, towels and some other things that I can’t quite see cradled in their large hands. my curiosity is answered in a split second though as the four begin to wipe away the dirt that covers me, still allowing me to ride out my cries in the meantime.

raph gets back into his bent position to gently clean my face, donnie and mikey clean down my arms, and leo starts to brush my hair the best that he can. it must be a brush that april keeps here at the lair, since I don’t think I’ve left one here before.

they continued like this - softly wiping and rinsing - until they were sure that they had done all they can do to rid me of this sticky mess, and until I was able to stabilise my breathing and speak somewhat clearly again.

“april is going to be mad that you got ketchup on her hairbrush,” I say lowly between hiccups. leo laughs and assures me that the brush is perfectly fine; no need to worry.

it is silent (apart from the sound of my sniffling) while they put down their tools and clear them away from the couch, until donnie speaks, “we don’t want to push you to talk but we are here to listen if you want to.”

maybe it is finally time to talk about it. as much as I don’t want to, I think I need to. I’m always the one with a bright smile and cheery attitude but I need to let that go for now. I need comfort, and I need to admit that to myself - even if it’s for this singular moment.

I begin to explain the story of the date and how it went terribly wrong - just the vital details to build the story rather than adding my feelings about it. being vulnerable like this isn’t my strong point so I need to prepare myself to talk about that part with truth and from the heart.

I can see the pure rage in raph’s eyes as he sits in front of me, his teeth grinding together and a low growl coming out of him. he goes to say something but donnie stops him with a hand on his shoulder. he gives red a pat and he seems to understand what he is signalling, inhaling and exhaling with his eyes closed before fixing his posture to listen to me again.

“you know, I don’t know if I want raph to rough up him or rough up me at this point,” I let out a laugh to try and soften the atmosphere but the expressions of the boys tell me that it didn’t work. they look confused; sad. “a good rough up might fix whatever is wrong with me, because it’s obviously me. look at me! why else would he have made plans to humiliate me like that? what do I need to punch into shape - the way I look? the way I act?” I laugh again with the same intent as earlier despite knowing that it is going to do nothing to lessen the impact of my words.

“did he specifically make you feel like that?” raph says through gritted teeth, “that you’re not good enough?”

“no, I guess I’ve been feeling that way for a while. he just made it worse - a lot worse.” my eyes start to burn again with more tears. I’m surprised I’m not dehydrated yet.

mikey grabs my face in his hands, his eyes also look clouded with tears, “you are so beautiful. really, you are. I remember when I first saw you I was like ‘woah, they’re even prettier than the humans I see on tv!’ you don’t need to change anything about the way you look, I can tell you that for sure.”

“nor do you need to change anything about your personality or how you act,” donnie chimes in. “why do you think we like you so much? you’re awesome! you’re smart, kind, caring, plus you treat us like we’re golden and we’re literally in the sewers right now,” we all giggle at the last statement he makes.

leo pats me on the head, signally me to look up towards him, “you are the greatest friend we could have ever asked for, and if we need to remind you of that more then we will. you deserve to feel that you’re worthy and loved and I can tell you with certainty that you are when you’re here with us. there’s no need to hide from us, we’ve got you’re back.”

raph grabs my hand, “and seriously, if you want us to go and talk to that guy we will.”

“raph!” the others shout. I laugh at the slight panic hiding in their voices - it’s fully directed at their brother and his fists.

“what?! I said talk not bash into the ground so what do you want from me?!”

[starlooove]

If ur already gonna make the whole Jason thing completely irrelevant or ooc for batjokes I feel like u should just go the whole way and make it so it never happened or joker didn’t do it

[alltheyearsblog]

There have been occasions where Leo did freak out over raph as much as raph did him. I don’t know about you I am glad people are seeing these two as brothers who love each other who happen to disagree time to time instead of rivals. I am glad later iterations are actively showing red and blue caring for one another.

Here’s the thing people often forget- relationships are messy. And despite it all, they are a mess worth making. I deeply believe Leo and Raph knows this. They love each other so damn much and because they’re both the same brand of stubborn ass they often butt heads. I am also a firm believer that they both struggle with depression and it comes out in different ways. And mental health aside, they are still teenagers, and being a teenager is the hardest damn thing. You have hormones coming in that suddenly give you big emotions you now have to deal with. On top of that, your brain is actively developing and preparing for adulthood (which by the way for the boys is still another 10-11 years away from finishing that job), and you are constantly taking in new data on situations that had previously been so black and white but now you’re starting to see gray blending in.

So yeah, Leo and Raph get touchy. But you know what the secret is, Capt? They are the most likely to blow up with each other because they trust each other. It is safe to get upset with the other. Because, yeah, sometimes lines are crossed and they actually take the shit they say personally but at the end of the day they always jump in and take care of the other.

The Rise! Movie summed it up so beautifully.

“You didn’t yell because you were mad. You yelled because you were scared.”

Leo and Raph, in their own separate ways are terrified. But they’re committed to doing it scared together, even when it’s messy.

[arbitrarycategories]

Hey would you mind sharing what the real point of jekyll and hyde is that Hollywood missed? I have never read the book

You just made my night actually THANK YOU

Long so it’s under a cut :)

(you should totally read the book, it’s not super long and it’s actually really good)

okay tw murder and suicide and like. Violence I guess. It’s a psychological thriller from the Victorian era idk what y’all expect

Alright here’s the part where I admit I’ve never seen a Jekyll and Hyde movie but I HAVE seen various iterations of him in pop culture monster movies where he’s some quirky background character yknow?? The pop culture idea of this guy is kind of wild

First things first!!! Pop culture would have you believe that Dr. Jekyll has a wife or a girlfriend or some shit that Mr. Hyde wants to ravage or cheat on or whatever!! This is false because the only female characters in the entire book are a little girl who gets trampled to establish how Evil Hyde Is and a woman who calls the cops after witnessing a murder as she took a smoke break on a balcony. Neither one of them even has a name :) this is a book with NO BITCHES okay??? There’s barely even any men

Important Character round up!

Mr. Utterson the Lawyer (most of the book is from his viewpoint)

Dr. Lanyon (a friend to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Utterson)

Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde (respected Chemist/criminal)

Poole the butler <3

And that’s IT.

Okay there’s also some parliament guy who gets murdered but like whatever. He’s just there to get killed. Bye.

So a very basic plot synopsis is that Mr. Utterson is the guy in charge of Dr. Jekyll’s Will. Because of this he happens to be sort-of-friends with Jekyll because neither of them really have many friends. They’re also both friends with Dr. Lanyon.

Mr. Utterson first becomes aware of Mr. Hyde as a person who exists when a friend (unimportant) of his tells him about this guy who trampled a little girl. Obviously this is fucked up, but the friend has more to the story. Bystanders didn’t let this guy just trample a little girl, they demanded compensation so that she could pay a doctor to help her. Hyde went to a door (which the friend points out bc he and Utterson are on a walk) and makes out a check under the name of Jekyll. And so Utterson is like. Huh what

He goes home and looks at Jekyll’s Will, and Hyde is the guy set to get all his stuff if Jekyll disappears!! And so Utterson is like well that doesn’t make sense for MY friend the Extremely Respected Chemist. So naturally he’s curious and goes poking in that polite Victorian way.

It turns out Hyde lives in Soho but is a FREQUENT visitor to Jekyll’s house, has a key and all the servants know him etc. nobody knows how he and Jekyll met and they’re all a little afraid to ask.

And then there’s a year long timeskip actually. Utterson asked and Jekyll said “yeah don’t worry about it :)” and then we just skip a year.

We come back because Mr parliament gets MURDERED in what seems to be a crime of passion by a certain Mr. Hyde. Like the fact that the guy killed was in parliament was a complete coincidence. I keep meaning to look up the guys name to see if he was a real guy who was just really hated or something but I never get around to it. Anyway. Hyde beats him to death with his cane.

OH YEAH. Break hang on.

HERES THE OTHER THING HOLLYWOOD FUCKS UP THAT I ALMOST FORGOT!!! Hyde is not Hulk!!! He’s not big he has no muscles he’s literally an itty bitty guy!! He’s described as “particularly small”, “little man”, “of small stature”. He’s tiny!!! Truly exemplifying that short people are closer to the devil etc whatever he’s itty bitty and super fucking mean like the worlds worst chihuahua given human form.

Alright back to PLOT

The police recognize Hyde pretty much from the witness description of him, and Utterson is like “well that’s easy I Know Where He Lives” but they can’t find him even though his neighbors all sell him out and they literally go to his place in Soho.

So Utterson goes to ask his good friend Jekyll, who he knows is close with Hyde, where the fuck his buddy is!!! And Jekyll is having like a full on nervous breakdown at this point. Jekyll swears that he’s “done with” Hyde and “he will never more be heard of”. He’s sweating and shaking and generally looking like he’s on drugs or something.

Hyde conveniently left a letter to Jekyll (wow!!) that basically said he had fled the country and thanks for being his friend this whole time :) Utterson has a lil convo with Jekyll where he becomes convinced that since all of Jekyll’s stuff went to Hyde if he disappeared that Hyde was planning to murder Jekyll but the heat from killing a member of parliament had scared him off so Jekyll is safe now. If what Utterson thought was happening was what was ACTUALLY happening this would probably be where the story ends. But NO. First bc Utterson hired a guy to analyze the handwriting on the letter from Hyde to Jekyll and the guy (literally named Mr. Guest) was like “yeah this is Jekyll writing with a different slant idk who he’s fooling” and so Utterson is now convinced that Jekyll is covering for Hyde for some reason

And SECOND because jekyll starts acting like a crazy person. Poole the butler shows up at Utterson’s house one day like “hey my boss is freaking me out and also his voice changed?? I think Hyde is living in his room and pretending to be jekyll”

So naturally they bust into his locked room with an axe. Like you do. It’s not his bedroom it’s like his chemistry room idk they just call it his cabinet but it’s Clearly Some Kind of Lab. Anyway they find Hyde’s dead body on the floor <3 he has pretty explicitly killed himself with cyanide.

They also find a couple letters, which make up the rest of the book.

The first one is from Dr. Lanyon (remember Lanyon?). Lanyon writes all about how Jekyll started acting like a crazy person and had him deliver a drawer (like, pulled out of a dresser and full of chemicals) from Jekyll’s cabinet to Hyde, who Lanyon has never met. The description is this part is actually really good, you can tell it’s Hyde who shows up to meet Lanyon even though it never says his name. This is the part where he mixes the chemicals like the worlds worst smoothie and then fucking Shapeshifts back into Jekyll right in front of Lanyon :) why did he Do this. At this point in the story we are hearing this from Lanyon’s letter instead of Lanyon himself because Lanyon fucking Died when it was still Uttersons pov and didn’t tell anyone what he had learned?? He thought nobody would believe him ig but he tells Utterson he has had a shock and will die within a few weeks and then he literally Does. Like what the fuck man.

The next letter is from Jekyll!! It is a confession of how exactly Hyde came to be AND WHY.

Look me in the eyes. THIS IS THE PART POP CULTURE GETS COMPLETELY WRONG!!!!!!

Jekyll, being a well respected Member of Society, wanted to expunge himself of all evil desires by splitting himself into two people, one who is good and one who is evil. He manages to make a chemical potion of some kind that lets him shift between two bodies. Here’s where the text will get you: Jekyll is an unreliable narrator.

IT DOESNT WORK!!!!! He claims that Hyde immediately felt more evil but was shocked when he switched back to Jekyll and didn’t feel any different than before. Jekyll is still just as good and JUST AS EVIL as before he downed his magic shapeshifting potion!! Jekyll didn’t invent a second, more evil form, he invented a mask he could hide behind that let him escape all accountability for his actions.

And you know the most damning proof?? The switch has started happening without him drinking the potion. He will go to sleep as Jekyll and wake up as Hyde, and it’s taking more and more doses to turn back into Jekyll. At the time he writes the letter, he is permanently stuck as Hyde, but the letter is from JEKYLL and laments the guilt he feels for actions done as Hyde. He condemns Hyde as if that IS a separate person!! But Hyde has the same mind and should that Jekyll does, just a different face, and Jekyll is lying to himself.

Anyway that’s what happens in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It’s all about this lawyer dealing with the most Batshit series of events a client has ever made him deal with <3

[m3nt4llyr4v3d]

Chat Blanc Doesn’t Matter

(to the person who actually saw it)

You’ve probably seen this said already but I have to express how frustrating this is dear LORD

Lemme preface this by saying: I think it’s hilarious that the fans come up with better headcanons than the writers

I completely believed the idea that the reason Ladybug was growing distant from Chat was because of the whole Chat Blanc thing. Sure, it was really alluded to twice in the entirety of season 4, but it honestly wouldn’t have been the first time something important was brought up only a few times, so it was reasonably believable. It’s falls in line with Chat Blanc affecting Marinette in multiple ways, her wanting to distant herself from Chat to prevent that timeline, whether subconsciously or on purpose. Meanwhile, her distance from Chat and his feeling of inadequacy on the team could possibly lead to his akumatization anyways. It was poetic really

And then the writers turned to us and said “oh no, it’s not that! It’s just that she has a lot of responsibilities and… that’s it!”

Kuro Neko happened in this season.

The episode where Marinette, for a brief moment, thought that Chat was akumatized.

And she barely has a reaction.

Look, I’m aware that if that was actually Chat, he wouldn’t have the ring and would be a bit less of a threat… theoretically, I mean being akumatized can replicate his powers regardless but whatever. But I feel like this “revelation” should have a stronger reaction? She saw the world get completely destroyed the “last time” this happened, why isn’t she more affected by this??

And in Season 5, she “rebounded” her crush, so now she likes Chat because of the events of season 4… except that would be an issue because it never once occurs to her that a relationship with Chat would lead to that future?? Chat Blanc literally says their love destroyed the world, how else could she have interpreted that? And yet she constantly goes on about what she likes about him and tries to pursue a relationship with him in her civilian identity and she doesn’t think about the potential consequences once?? (I can’t believe the season 4 finale affected her in that regard and Chat Blanc didn’t)

And of course, like others have said, every single iteration of Chat in white doesn’t freak her out. I guess seeing Paris destroyed, flooded, and seeing herself DEAD and her own body DISINTEGRATE IN FRONT OF HER EYES didn’t really affect her at all, nah just a normal Tuesday

No, Chat Blanc doesn’t matter one single bit to Ladybug, because for some baffling reason they’re shoving that all onto Chat, who WASN’T THERE! They had to make him have a nightmare adjacent to it to even do this!

Which, by the way, Marinette couldn’t have told him about any of what she saw therefore making him scared of a potential future based on her words. That would mean that this potential future she saw would have any meaning to her whatsoever, which it clearly doesn’t

what are the writers smoking, genuinely

[piss-pumpkin]

🫧We’ve got nothing but time.🌤️

Douce amere chapter 18, older!dipper pines x reader, ~6.7k words masterlist Prev

What had Dipper learnt? It was July twenty-first, and it had been for nearly a week, stuck on the day after Bill possessed you and attacked him. You were in the kitchen in the morning, and hung out with Stan in the evening for an unknown amount of time. Mabel stayed in the shack all day, and Ford worked downstairs, probably. Dipper hadn’t seen him. And nobody else seemed to notice the repetitions. 

This was stupid. Downright stupid. That was about all Dipper was certain of, but he had his other suspicions. The first time he did today was when he found that weird cave, that seemed most logical. And it if wasn’t that, he was totally fucked with no other leads or clues.

So off he went. Dipper quietly sidestepped Mabel’s questions as he grabbed for his bag. At least she was confused, which meant she was distracted from what happened… yesterday. The last thing Dipper wanted was a repeat of the conversation they had… however many days ago. Iterations of today. It was all he could do to trudge out the door on heavy feet and keep his eyes forward. 

Okay. This is fine. He would go to that weird supernatural cave pond, and this would end. Tomorrow would happen. 

Oh god. How did time loops even work? If weirdness was just in Gravity Falls, was time passing outside of it? Dipper shook his head as he stumbled into the brush of the forest. Maybe time was passing and he was just insane. Dipper couldn’t tell if that would be better, or worse. 

As he ambled through the woods, he came to an unfortunate, unrelated realization. He had no idea where to go. The sun was coming up, just light enough to see clearly. He’d come to the fairytale part of the woods, that was a good sign. A few flickering fireflies left over from the night were still idly buzzing around close to the ground around colourful mushrooms. He’d definitely come through here last time, but he was mindlessly running away, then. He wasn’t trying to remember the path. Hell, even if he was, he probably wouldn’t.

Dipper furrowed his brow as he came to a fork in the path, squinting as he tried to remember which way. Fuck, this sucked. He took a gamble for left.

The sun was high overhead when he got there. The same grove, just as it had been days ago. Dipper sighed when he came to it, the slightclearing at the face of the cliff, hands on his knees to brace himself. God, how little had he slept this whole time? It was starting to weigh on him. Even just an afternoon of walking was enough to leave him stumbling.

 At least he knew his body was experiencing time. Dipper thought about it as he approached the cave entrance, without the hesitation of curiosity this time. He definitely felt like it had been a few days without proper sleep, that much was certain as he tripped through the tunnel with all the grace of Grunkle Stan on a Friday night. 

The water was still running down the floors and the walls towards the puddle chamber. Dipper didn’t bother trying to step on his tip toes or around the streams. With wet shoes, and without a flashlight, he groaned his way to the dim light. 

It still shone like a full moon, with ripples of the water reflecting all around the wide cave walls, sparking on the specks of minerals encrusted inside. Dipper stood miserably before it, staring in. His reflection stared back.

Hmmm. Last time the reflection was off, bad angle and extra people. This time though, it was just plain old him, exactly how he should look. The picture flickered with its drips like a puddle, and less like a mirror, or a gateway between worlds. That’s weird. Or there was always the off chance he was hallucinating last time. Or this time. Sighing, he pulled the journal out of his bag, and flipped to the last few pages he wrote. 

He was already reading by the time he noticed. He was reading. There were words written about the cave. Dipper squinted as he eyed the journal. He wrote those in the timeloop. Were objects immune? If it only affected people that would confirm time was passing. 

Dipper grimaced as he made note of it all. Any other time, this would be a fun mystery to unravel, an interesting thread to pull. If time was looping on any other day… 

Scratch that. It could be worse, he realized. It could have been yesterday. Oh god. His eyes widened as it dawned on him; he could’ve been stuck reliving the moment that you- Bill towered over him trying to kill him. His hands flew to his mouth to cover it instinctively as a shiver travelled up his spine. Deep breaths. 

Dipper knelt down slowly, balancing on the balls of his feet as he stared down into the glowing puddle. Ugh. His reflection looked worn down. Far worse then last time. Well, what it showed last time wasn’t real. Unfortunately. The bangs under his eyes seemed to be pulling down his face, far deeper than usual, and outlined with dark circles. 

Sighing, he touched the pond. That’s all he did last time, right? He just splashed it and the reflections vanished, and that was kinda weird. 

Nothing happened. Maybe because nothing was happening. No mystery in the water this time, and nothing to disturb with his heavy hands. Dipper pursed his lips. Did it… work? Was he out? He glanced around. Nothing looked or felt different. He splashed around again, waving his hand in the puddle as of to tread water. He could feel his lips turning into a scowl. This was stupid. 

Against all odds, he managed to stand up, pushing himself off his legs and staring down at the puddle. Same old reflection. Dipper sighed. Was there anything else he could do here? 

He couldn’t think of anything logical. He spared the pool one more glance, and turned back. He swallowed hard as he stepped back into the sunlight, a growing anxiety building in his chest. Dipper looked back at the cave entrance, it’s maw staring at him from the cliff face, and he shivered despite the summer heat. 

Fuck this. He went back to the shack, trekking through the woods, following the path he blazed in his tired trudge this morning. Still, it was evening when he got back. Dipper squinted at the shack from a distance. What happened in the evening? The first time, Mabel greeted him at the door, and told him you and Stan were together… somewhere. He couldn’t remember. 

So… no front door. Mabel could survive one today without seeing him. Dipper winced. If this is her first time, that would hurt. He thought back to the way she cried during their first morning conversation, or her tired face in the evening. He stared at the front door from the tree line. If he fixed the timeloop, then this would be the permanent version. The version she remembered. Is that what he wanted? For her to think he’d run away, abandoned her completely? He glanced at his wrist, the slowly healing bruise your foot had left when Bill attacked him. No. He could do better. 

Sighing, he walked to the front door, and Mabel opened it before he even reached the handle. He might have been growing desensitized to the raw emotion in the shack, but Mabel’s tired eyes still struck a dull pain in his chest. Yeah. This was the right choice. 

He hugged her, spoke to her, and sat with her until he passed out, brain melting and numbing to the sound of vaguely familiar Gravity Falls tv. 

                                             …

He dreamt of burning. A burning pain in his wrist and arm, a burning feeling in his chest, and the burning light in your eyes that flickered and sparked with hate when you looked over him. That image was so clear. Your- Bills sadistic grin while he was pinned. Like it was seared into his brain like a brand. Felt like burning. 

And he woke in his bed, his body holding into that burning feeling with a vice grip. With sweaty hands he wiped his sweaty forehead. Bed. And then it all went cold. Somebody could have brought him there. There was a non zero chance he wasn’t in the loop. 

It was dark outside. Mabel slept, with all her stuffed animals bundled near her head. He didn’t want to wake her to ask, at least one twin deserved sleep. There was one good litmus test though. Quietly, he stood, creaked open the door, and descended the stairs.

There were lights on, but that wasn’t something exclusive to today. That could mean anything. Non zero chance. 

Light was on in the kitchen. Dipper winced, stopping short. Maybe you weren’t in there. Ugh. The sinking feeling in his chest only grew when he approached, and he head a few familiar sniffles and shuffles. God fucking dammit. There you were. On the floor. With a coffee pot in your lap and a half empty mug beside you. Dipper gritted his teeth, staring at you a moment. 

Dipper could barely hear you ask your familiar question; “do you…” you started. “Do you want some?”

He blinked, and waited a moment. Well shit. It was still today. He was so fucked. Wordlessly, he walked out, leaving you to your usual activities… whatever those were. He didn’t care to find out. Aimlessly, he walked through the house. So completely fucked. 

Or… maybe not. His eyes caught on the vending machine in the gift shop, and he grimaced. If anyone knew anything about this, it was probably Ford. He probably could’ve thought of that yesterday. Ugh. Another today wasted on a bad hunch. 

He sluggishly typed in the code, and the vending machine popped open to reveal the stairs behind it. Ford might be awake.  Hell, he totally was, Dipper thought as he went down. No shot Ford could rest more then he could while Bill was out there. 

He stopped at the study. The room that once terrified him, lined with alters and shrines to Bill. With a sigh, he knocked gently on the door. He hasn’t seen Ford today. His schedule was the only complete mystery. 

He heard a few paper shuffle on the other side, before hasty steps came toward the door. It slowly opened to an only slightly dishevelled Ford.  “Dipper,” he said, opening the door all the way. “Are you alright?” 

Dipper smiled as he came in, “Yeah I’m… fine.” He glanced around. There was writing on the whiteboard, scribbles he wasn’t even sure Ford could read. The desk was covered in papers, some looked old and yellowed, some white and new, with pen ink drips staining most of them. “Grunkle Ford, uh-“ Dipper started, turning back to his great uncle. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. How to word this? “Have you noticed anything… weird, lately?”

Fords expression hardened, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “Well, Bill,” he said simply. “Is that what you mean?”

Dipper shook his head, lips pursed. 

“I thought so,” Ford said, sounding disappointed. He gestured at the white board, “I have no idea who wrote most of that.”

Dippers eyes widened. Right. Objects weren’t affected. That meant… anyone could learn about it if they left themself something in writing. 

“My best guess is I’m being possessed,” Ford said sadly. “The writing is clearly mine, but I don’t recall doing it. I’m not certain what Bills return means, but if he can possess my body even with my metal plate,” he tapped his head for emphasis, “then we’ve got big problems.” 

Dipper looked at the floor. “I, uh, don’t think that’s it,” he started, scratching at his wrist. “What if there’s some sort of a time-loop, and you wrote that yesterday, and you just…” he met his mentors eyes, “don’t remember.”

Ford raised his brow. “You… know something about this? He asked.

Dipper nodded, eyes glued to the floor. “So far I’m the only one who’s noticed,” he muttered. 

Ford seemed sceptical, all six fingers tapping against his chin as he looked over Dipper intently. He hummed, “are you certain?” And sighed when Dipper nodded again. Ford grimaced, and kicked over a stool on wheels and a swivel, gesturing for Dipper to sit. 

Sighing, he did, his feet idly pushing him back and forth in small motions. Ford pulled another chair out from behind the whiteboard, and sat down in front of him, hands laced together and held against his lips, as if to hold back words. Dipper shuddered thinking about what he might say. At least he believed him. 

“How long?” Ford ask simply, unreadable tone or expression. 

He swallowed. How long had it been? He wasn’t keeping track at first, and the days seemed to blend together in the pile of mush that was his brain. God. “A few days… maybe a week?” Dipper sighed. “I don’t know for sure.”

Ford pursed his lips, brow furrowed. “Okay, can you start from the beginning?”

Ugh. How many beginnings had there been? And the one he thought was the key turned out to be a dud, and wasted another day. Dipper grumbled, went through it from the top. As much as he could remember. He thought about leaving out what he saw in the puddle, since admitting to hallucinating didn’t seem like a great idea, but if anyone would understand, it would be Ford. So he told him. 

Ford listened intently, and groaned when he was done. Ford adjusted his glasses a few times as he grimaced, “Well, this isn’t ideal,” he managed. 

Dipper sighed.

”-But there’s… probably a way out,” he finished.  He tapped his fingers against his chin. “You said you saw… us, in the pool, correct?”

Dipper nodded, grumbling. Suddenly that part seemed really dumb. He got lured into a weird puddle by hallucinating something that probably happened, like, a few days ago. Longer than that, now. 

“That’s… interesting,” Ford said, transfixed on Dippers face. Or maybe he was looking through him. “I might be familiar with the concept.”

Dipper waited for him to say more on the subject. It took a few moments of silence for him to speak again.

“I encountered a similar issue in another dimension,” Ford started, swivelling his chair over to his desk to flip through the papers. “I doubt I have the written record anymore,” he said, shuffling them around. “Actually, I don’t even think I wrote it down… it wasn’t something I particularly wanted to study.”

Dipper swallowed. Alright. So he was stuck in a situation that even Ford wasn’t comfortable with. Just great. 

“It was just after I left the alternate dimension where I never fell into the portal,” Ford sighed, putting his papers down. He grabbed around his desk until his hand landed on a pen, and he started to write while he spoke. “There was a fountain, and I guess I was feeling,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “homesick.”

”What… did you see?” Dipper asked, fearing where this was going. What it meant for him. 

“Oh lots of things,” Ford sighed wistfully, not looking up from the paper that was now splattered with ink. “Stanley,” Ford said. “And Fiddleford, firstly. I never imagined they could be friends, but they were in the vision.”

Dipper shivered as he spoke. Homesick, huh? The image of himself with you, Mabel, Stan and Ford knocked around his head. And Grunkle Ford wasn’t done. “And my lab was there, from the alternate world. I had it all, so to speak.”

”Did you touch the water?” Dipper asked, wincing.

Ford nodded, and Dipper could see him start to sketch a drawing. “I did, and that’s how it started. I’d left that dimension by nightfall, but by morning I was waking up right back where I started.”

”Well, how’d you make it stop?” Dipper sighed, this time with relief. If Ford could get out, so could he, right? 

Ford spun in the chair to face him, looking grave. “To this day, I’m still not sure.”

Well shit. Statement rescinded. 

“I was stuck for a long time,” Ford paused, and eyed Dipper intensely. Dipper couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I’m not sure how it happened, but one day it just… ended.”

Dipper blinked. “And you have no idea how?” He blurted out. 

Ford shook his head. “I don’t,” he sighed, resting his head on his palm. “I’ll do some thinking on it, or try to find anything written about it, and see if I can find something to help you,” he said sadly. 

Well, fuck. Dippers foot bounced on the floor anxiously, and he wiped some sweat off his palms onto his pants. So he was on his own. Sort of. Maybe Ford would find something. But how long could that take? How long was he stuck? Dipper guessed… too long, if even Ford didn’t want to write this one down. Something better left forgotten. Dipper swallowed, and stood up, “Okay, well,” he started. “I’ll try to figure something out, then.”

Without another word, he left. Okay, so. What did he learn? He might be so fucked. He glanced around the gift shop. Completely empty. The sun was up outside… so the shacks probably closed. Dipper sighed. Wendy wasn’t here either. Guess she had the day off. 

Dipper walked to the counter with the register, and rested his elbows on it. He had to figure this out. Time was still passing. He had to get out of this. Mabel might kill him for cutting her summer over a week short. 

He needed a plan. 

                                             …

He did not come up with a plan. That marked two days since finding out that that were compete busts. He groaned, waking up from another nightmare. Those were some of the only things that changed from day to day. At least there was a little variety. At least he had Fords help now. Hopefully he left himself a note to remember. 

Ugh. Today might have been the groggiest yet. 

Dipper ambled down the stairs. He was getting that coffee. This one doesn’t matter. He was still stuck in today, and unless something crazy happened, he would be tomorrow too. He deserved a break, a cheat day, if you will. It had been over a week of this shit. Today was becoming a full time job. Dipper took a deep breath, and gripped the kitchen doorway. “Out,” he said decisively, really more of a demand, pointing his thumb at the door as he pushed through. 

You were slow, looking up at him with confused eyes for a moment before you tried to come to your feet. Your legs were shaky, and seemed stiff. God, how long do you sit there each day? Dipper looked down at you a moment before turning his head back to the cupboard. 

He scowled when he saw it, his fingers curling around the cupboard panels until the tips turned white. There was none left. “Y/n,” he said, whipping his head around. You were nearly out the door, but stopped like a deer in headlights. “Did you finish-“ he glanced down at the mug in your hand. 

You followed his eyes to the half empty cup, then drifted back up to him. 

Dipper sucked a sigh in through his teeth, approaching you for the first time in… a while. “I need that more than you do,” he said tiredly. 

Timidly, you handed him the cup. His tired reflection swirled in the dark, tepid liquid. Nothing about it looked completely appealing, truth be told. 

“Um, Dipper,” you started, looking at the floor. It was only once you spoke that he realized you were still there in front of him, and hadn’t scurried away. You were tired as always, but your clothes seemed far worse for wear than they did before: decorated with stains, a little dirt and dust. Guess that checks out. If you just slept in whatever you were wearing, you’d never change clothes. Had you not changed clothes all loop? “-and I’m just- just sorry, I guess.”

Oh shit. Dipper blinked a few times, tuning back in. He hadn’t registered much of what you said. You were looking at him expectantly, wide eyes like glass. If there was one thing to note about you, it was how little you looked like Bill. Your mouth was held in a restful frown, and brow raised as you waited. And you body language wasn’t anywhere near the way Bill carried you. Your hands fidgeted at your chest, and the cruel and smug confidence was gone. Dipper couldn’t see Bill at all. Just you. Just you. And you looked rough. 

He sighed. Just you. “Not now, alright?” Dipper said. At least he could look you in the eyes. That was… maybe a first. He couldn’t remember. But he wasn’t started by the movement of your hands, or the flicker of your eyes today. 

And he must not have sounded too harsh, because you didn’t seem too bad after. You nodded, slow at first and then quickly, and turned and shuffled away, and Dipper was alone again. 

He looked into the coffee again, thinking back to the same way the cave puddle swirled when it lured him in. He sighed, slinking back to the counter to lean on as he sipped the, admittedly terrible, coffee. He couldn’t take a cheat day. He had to figure this out. You looked terrible. At least he wasn’t stuck in the same way you or Mabel were. You’d spent the last week sad and on the floor. Dipper frowned, sighing. You didn’t deserve that. As much as he might’ve said otherwise a few todays ago.

Okay. He had to think through this. What does he know? The water lures people in by showing them stuff. Stuff they want. And it’s escapable, Ford was able to do it. But he said it took him a while, and he had no idea how it happened. 

The water seemed to think the thing Dipper wanted was for thing to go back to normal, with you, Mabel, His Grunkles. The stupid puddle might’ve been right. 

The question seemed to be: was there something there? Something to do with that? Or was that just the predatory strategy it used to draw people in? If that was the case, then he was even more fucked, because that was his only lead. The only thing in common between him and Fords experience was the water, and that. 

Dipper paced around the shack. He walked a few circles through the house part, the tourist part, the parlour. He needed a plan. Something with the water… or something with the things in the water… Dipper scratched at his chin. Ugh. There had to be something. Maybe his brain was too tired to think straight. 

He walked through the tourist trapped hallways as he thought, and Dipper stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Stan’s voice a room over. He hadn’t seen Stan a single time in the loop. Mabel said that he was with you in the evening, but it was barely noon. Carefully, he stayed still and quiet enough to listen. “Hey kid,” Stan said. 

He heard vague shuffling noises, and decided he needed to get closer. He edged his way to the wall, careful to keep his steps quiet. 

“Hello,” you said softly. 

Dipper pressed his ear to the wall despite himself. This probably wasn’t his conversation to hear.

Stan’s voice was soft, but confident. “Listen kid, it happens to the best of us. I’m proof of that,” he laughed. Dipper felt his lips curl in into the smallest of smiles. 

You must not have been convinced, because you stayed quiet. 

“You’ll be fine, Y/n,” Stan said. “They’ve all done this before, they know how to bounce back.”

”I don’t want to be in their nightmares,” you said, and Dipper winced. You knew all too well about his. And you weren’t far off. You’d been a feature in most of them lately. He carefully and quietly slumped against the wall to support, and sunk to the floor. It sucked that you were right. 

Stan sighed. “Yeah, that sucks,” he said. Tactful, as always, Dipper thought, rolling his eyes. But Stan wasn’t done, “but you’ll be there to help with those.” Oh. Dipper curled his knees close to his chest. Yeah, normally you would be. 

“I don’t think they want that,” you said. Also right. God, it sucked when you were right. Each word tightened a knot in his chest. 

“They’ll come around. I think Dipshit will just take a bit,” Stan said. 

Dipper decided he should probably stop listening. You weren’t wrong often, and he didn’t want to hear what you had to say about… him. If you were right again, and you didn’t… you weren’t.. if you didn’t think he could come around.

He stood up, slowly and carefully, and kept pacing around. He could get you guys out of this. He had to. Relieving those emotions everyday sounded like hell on earth. 

                                             …

At least the nightmares were getting better. Not great, but less intense, more of a dull ache than a stabbing pain. That was something, right? Dipper went to the kitchen. Guess there was no avoiding you if he wanted to eat. But he might be okay seeing you today. 

Well, there you were. As always. On the floor, this time with a can of peaches, since you’d used up the coffee yesterday. Your face was still blotchy from… probably crying. Guess Dipper couldn’t judge. You were looking up at him with wide eyes full of guilt, and he cringed.

Sighing, he walked over, and slumped down beside you, back to the cupboards. “Hey, Y/n,” he said tiredly. 

You swallowed, clutching the peach can in your lap. “Um, hey, Dip,” you said timidly, throat sounding ragged and rough. You gestured at the can,  “Do you… want some?” 

Dipper smiled weakly, shaking his head. You always offer him whatever you have. “I’m good,” he said. 

He looked you over again. Nothing new, really. At least he wasn’t seeing Bill. The worst part was that he didn’t know what to say to you. It had been a while since you’d both spoken, at least for him. And worse for you; you were probably still recovering from being possessed. 

And he didn’t normally get this close to you. It was only at this angle that he saw the fading bruise on your jaw just past your chin. The spot he hit you with the journal. “Sorry about, uh-“ Dipper started, and gestured at the same place on himself. “Getting you, the other day.”

You shot him a weak smile. “Ah, don’t be,” you said, voice light. “Glad you did. And it… doesn’t hurt much, actually.” 

Yeah, it’s practically healed by now, he thought. Dipper winced thinking about earlier loops. Drinking all that coffee must have hurt. Even now, the bruise was a slight yellow. 

“I’m sorry about getting you, too,” you said, looking at the floor and holding up and tapping your wrist. “Must suck.”

Oh right. Dipper had practically forgotten. He turned over his hand to look at his wrist where your foot had been pressed. It was practically gone. He might’ve been happy it healed if it didn’t mean he’d been in this loop for longer than he’d like. 

“Oh,” you said, eyes catching the same way his did. “It’s-“ you stopped for a moment, and looked back to his face. “I’m glad that didn’t leave much of a mark,” you murmured. 

“It did,” he said, and immediately regretted it. That wouldn’t make any sense to you. Well. You probably  wouldn’t remember tomorrow, anyway. “It, uh, really hurt for a while. I think the bruise is just… healed.”

You smiled, almost laughing. It looked a little unnatural, given your somewhat puffy eyes and dirty clothes. “Well, that’s good,” you said softly. 

Dipper couldn’t help but smile a little. He hadn’t realized how much he missed you these past days. Even if you kind of sucked. “Actually,” he said, pointing at your peach can. “I do want one.” He aimlessly reached up, and pulled open a drawer above him, scrounging around until he found a fork. “May I?” He asked.

Wordlessly, you held the can out to him, and he stabbed a peach slice through. He cupped one hand under it to catch any dripping juice. It was sweet. 

“Hey, Dipper,” you said hesitantly. “I’m- uh, sorry that I got us into this.”

He sighed, wiping a little peach juice from the corner of his mouth. He pursed his lips. “It’s… fine,” he managed. It mostly wasn’t, but whatever. It was fine enough. Nobody died. 

You stared at the floor, putting your can of peaches down so you could fidget with your hands. “Not really though, right?” You said. “I mean, this sucks. I know you and Mabel gotta hate this… and Ford and Stan.” You tapped your fingers against the tile floor, your leg bouncing a little with each word. “I mean, I thought for a second that he was gonna kill you,” you said, finally tuning your eyes back to him.

“I-“ Dipper faltered. You weren’t wrong. It might’ve been your voice bouncing around his head saying: when are you ever? “I couldn’t’ve let him kill me,” Dipper said, completely lacking confidence. And you had to know that. Dipper wasn’t sure who he was lying for: you or him. Bill did almost kill him, and he almost let it happen. 

You looked over at him, eyes wide with worry. “If you say so…” you trailed off. Your eyes held on his a moment longer before you sighed, grabbing your peaches again. “I’m just sorry that this happened. I should have…” you pursed your lips. “I don’t know,” you said.

“It’s…” Dipper swallowed. “It’s not all your fault,” he said, surprising himself. He mostly knew that. “I mean, it is party, but-“ he started, looking at the wall. The kitchens faded wallpaper looked right back, staring through him with its faded stain eyes. “Bill tricks people, it’s what he does. And this wouldn’t never have happened if I just mentioned what he looks like,” Dipper admitted, the weight of the words nearly crushing him. 

You stared at the wall with him, silent for a few beats. The fridge dully hummed in the background. “It’d been a really good summer before all this,” you said wistfully. 

Dipper smiled tiredly at you. “Yeah,” he said, “It was.” Maybe even the best. No, definitely. He thought back on things… he’d really waited years to kiss you, didn’t he? And Mabel was doing shockingly well at flirting this summer, too. And he didn’t realize you and Stan were as close as you were, before yesterday. And at least he had Ford to help him through this.

Oh god. Everything he wanted. You, Mabel, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, that’s all that stupid puddle showed him. All he wanted. For things to go back to normal. 

It was like you could read minds. “Do you think things can go back to normal?” You asked, still staring blankly in front of you, the weight of your eye bags bringing down your face. 

Dippers palms were sweaty. Could they? “I- I don’t know,” he stuttered. He licked his lips, suddenly realizing how dry they were. “I want them too.”

You smiled sadly, “well, that’s not the question, is it?” His chest tightened as you curled your legs up closer to you, and stared at the floor by your feet. “I do too,” you sighed, “But I’m not sure they will.”

Well that was the truth, wasn’t it? That he might not get… the only thing he wants. Things might not go back to normal. His face fell, and he stared at you. A wave of grief hit him all at once. He got to study your side profile for a moment before you finally turned to face him, that same sad smile still on your lips. You looked like you’d aged a year in a week. He couldn’t have been doing great, either. It was only, well, yesterday that you’d looked like yourself. 

But that wasn’t you, it was Bill. This is what you looked like now. The same, but different. A little tired. At least you were you, even if you might not be the person from before, anymore. 

You cut through the silence like a butcher, “if things are different,” you started, glancing over at him. He could see you chewing the inside of your cheek. You swallowed, eyes drifting back to the floor. A pained look crossed your face as you took a deep breath,  “I think I could live with that, if I still had you guys with me.”

Dippers mouth hung just slightly open as he stared at you. Oh god. He felt like he’d been hit by a train. If you still had them with you. The words bounced around his… seemingly empty head. He felt a sinkhole in his chest where his heart usually was. If you had them with you. And here he was avoiding you like the plague the last few days, he could almost laugh. If you still had them with you, you could live with it. 

Dipper didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted a tear. Shit. He hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve. If you had them with you. What did the time puddle show him? You, Mabel, his family? “I think,” he said. It came out weak. He cleared his throat to steady his voice, “I think I could live with that too.”

You looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes flickered back to the floor, “Well, that’s good.” 

Dipper blinked, his eyes were still watery. You were just a little blurry, as his eyes fixed on your face. Man, you’d barely smiled this whole loop. It almost looked foreign. If I had you with me, huh? Yeah. He’d survive as long as he had them all with him. He smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Hey, I’m sorry for avoiding you these past… last night,” he said, sniffling. “I probably should’ve made sure you were okay.”

You shook your head, “It’s… fine,” you smiled. You crossed your legs, skewering another peach slice on a fork, and offering him the can. He poked another onto his fork, too. “I get it, Dip,” you assured. “Nothing to apologize for.”

Well, you didn’t know the whole story, did you? Dipper sighed, “still, I am. Cheers?” He asked, holding his peach fork out to you. 

You smiled, and clinked your slice against his, “Cheers.”

The kitchen tile floor had a few drops of peach juice on it, and a couple coffee stains from the previous days, but it was still comfortable. Maybe you were into something, sitting here this whole time. Dipper leaned back, his back sliding further down the cabinet. If I have you all with me, I can live with it, he thought. Unfortunately, you had some pretty good words sometimes. Things might not be how he saw them in that dumbass puddle, but… that’s fine. Things had changed before, and he survived. As long as he had his people. He could feel the tears fighting to get out again. 

“I’m going to get you out of this,” Dipper sighed. 

You half smiled, nodding at him, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he said again. All of this. First the loop, then… the rest. Dipper stood up, brushed himself off, and looked down at you. “I’m going to figure something out,” he promised. 

You smiled, “Go get em‘.” 

                                              …

Dipper tried to. He paced, he thought, he talked to Ford, who wrote himself a note to remember. And they came up with some ideas, some stupider then others. Some plans: what if he drank the water? What if he just told everyone? What if he left Gravity Falls? He talked to Mabel a little. He saw Stan, since this time he didn’t end up comforting you. Guess Dipper did that, himself. Or… more the other way around. He ended the day feeling better then he started. 

He still woke up early, though, still felt sluggish as he went down the stairs. Later then before, though. At least it was light out. Food, and then Ford. And he’d quickly tell you everything was fine while he was there. He smiled when he saw the lights on under the kitchen door.

What. The hell. The kitchen was in fact, empty. Dipper blinked, caught in the doorframe. Where… or, shit. What the fuck happened? He looked around for traces of you. There were still coffee stains on the floor, and an empty can of peaches on the counter… but nothing new. Was he out? 

He thought he would be thrilled to see something change, but instead his heart was stuck in his throat. Where’d you go? 

It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be out, he didn’t do anything. His legs only started to work when he got the idea to find Ford. He stumbled to the vending machine, punched the code, and sped down the stairs. 

Dipper didn’t bother to knock on the study door. “Grunkle Ford,” he said, swinging the door open. “What was yesterday?”

Ford whipped his head around, practically jumping out of his skin. He was standing at the white board, seemingly reading the notes they’d scribbled last time. “We came up with ideas to get you out of a time loop,” Ford said. “But I was thinking-“ 

“-you remember it?” Dipper asked, cutting him off.

Ford nodded, “I do. Can I assume this means something worked?” 

Dipper shook his head. “That wouldn’t make any sense,” he said, pacing closer and around the room. “We had ideas, but… I didn’t do anything.”

Ford sat down as Dipper walked in circles. “You know, I wasn’t sure how I got out, either,” he said. He tapped his fingers along his chin. “Maybe it… ran its course,” he suggested. 

“Only, like, a week…ish?”

Fords mouth hung open, “you’re lucky, mine was months…” he mumbled, fingers still tapping. His eyes were fixed on the floor as he hummed. 

As Dipper paced, he caught Fords face fallen with lament, eyes softening on the floor. “You know, the fountain showed me my brother, and Fiddleford… that’s what it thought I wanted,” he started hesitantly. “By the time I was out, I resented them both, and wanted nothing to do with either.”

Dipper stopped pacing. “I saw… normal stuff,” he said. Things going back to the way they were. Things he’s okay with not having, as long as his family is with him. 

Ford shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He stood up, and wiped off the whiteboard of plans. “Well, no matter,” he said, eraser in hand. “That’s one problem out of the way.”

Dipper nodded idly, still puzzled. He went back upstairs. What day was it? Things looked different outside. When he ascended to the gift shop, it was bright out. Yeah, that was new. He walked the shack aimlessly. Well, he did it. He checked his phone. July twenty-eighth. 

He ambled around, and stopped in front of Soos’ break room. Quietly, he knocked on the door. He felt a little dumb standing alone in the hall when nothing happened. Maybe you weren’t staying in there. 

But then he heard the shuffles. And the door creaked open, you on the other side. “Uh, hey,” you said softly. 

Oh wow. It was a trip to see your face this way. You hadn’t been crying, your eyes weren’t red, you looked… better. Dipper sighed, a weight coming off his chest, “Hey.”

Next

Fellas I just couldn’t resist. I thought this chapter might kill me when I was writing it. Like I thought “hey what if I explored dippers trauma response and the lasting effects of bill” and then it turned into like 13k words between both parts 😭

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque (lmk if you want to be added)

[noemitenshi]

What should've been - Troy's revenge

OK so, this here

is absolute bullshit. No way in hell would the person who stabbed his injured hand on enemy’s knife

(gif for your convenience)

be as easily deterred from extracting his revenge as depicted in the first gif (especially since he's so fucking close to finally getting it). So what actually should've happened in this scene* is some iteration of the following.

Troy's revenge

God he was so close, so fucking close to finally avenging his Serena, finally getting his due. Finally… it was all he could think as he dragged Madison towards Serena’s spoiled form. Finally, finally, finally.

God, he felt like he was going crazy with the anticipation of it, so so close now, he could hardly believe it. But it was happening. He was making it happen. Finally, finally. Seconds, really, until Madison would get what was coming to her, until he could watch her being torn apart by his wife that wasn’t his wife anymore.

Even if that turned out to be the last thing he’d ever do – that’s what it felt like with the pain burning white hot in his chest, a beacon of agony, tearing through the entirety of his body, reverberating in his bones, his teeth, his very soul. He paid no mind to it. Couldn’t. It wasn’t important now. The only thing important now was right in front of him, Serena, Serena. His eyes were glued to the shell of her, this distorted, wild thing. No matter how much effort he put into taking care of her, she never again looked right. Not since he watched the life drain from her eyes. And no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t not see his wife in her—

Suddenly the pain became unbearable, driving everything else from him – nothing else existed in him than this pain. No thoughts, no feelings, no goals and wants. For an eyeblink he didn’t even see her anymore, even though his eyes were staring right at her snarling face. Just an eyeblink and he’d almost given in – anything to make this pain stop – but then he could see her again, hazily, chopped, in a way, as if his mind wasn’t working right, but he could see her again and he gritted his teeth, and with a choked shout he stayed right where he was, his hands still on her, dragging her forward, even as she was still twisting the branch in his chest, pulling and tugging, trying to make him stop. He wouldn’t.

He didn’t surrender. Not ever. Not even when the sheer agony caused tears to spill, when every part of him, every fiber of him wanted nothing more than to let go of her, hide and cower until the pain passed. She was shouting now too, with the effort it took her, both of them not able to talk anymore, not in control of their voice anymore, and finally, a howling scream rang out – and at first he wasn’t even sure if it was her or him it was torn from, but his sight didn’t betray him this time, and when he saw flesh being torn from Madison’s neck, then did he finally realize that the pain wasn’t as pronounced anymore, not as all-encompassing – Madison had finally let go of the branch.

He was still holding on to her jacket though, was still holding her close to Serena, while she was thrashing now, limbs flying uncoordinated. It was her in agony now. He stayed right there and watched how she was being devoured, bit for bit, watched as her screams died, turned to gurgling, sobbing, sounds, turned to nothing. Watched as her limbs trembled and twitched until they didn’t. Watched as her face turned unrecognizable, muscle and bone showing. Watched as Serena’s mouth, her face turned a bloodied mess and still bite and chew and tear. Still not satisfied. Never satisfied.

Troy let go. And the pain, the pain he’d ignored by sheer power of will returned and he gasped, sank down, whimpered. Sobbed. Cowered and hid his face and was hurting.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like this, how long he’d let his pain overwhelm him but when he could finally feel, think something else besides it, he heard chewing noises. His gaze sought their origins and he saw that Serena’s form was still straining towards Madison, still tearing flesh where she could reach, though there wasn’t much left, still this groaning, gurgling sounds out of her throat, filling the air.

Suddenly he moved, swift, a reflex maybe, and buried a knife in what had been his wife’s head once. All movement stopped and her corpse sank down.

He cradled her head in his lap, hugging her helplessly, stroking her hair – that wasn’t as silky as he remembered it being – because it wasn’t her, even if it was.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

His hands moved through her hair that wasn’t hers desperately, as if trying to find remnants of her, patting her head sweetly, stroking her cheek, all empty gestures now.

“I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for – not having been there to protect her, not insisting she stay home, not having buried her when she died, letting her turn, using her body as means for revenge…

“God, I’m sorry.”

He was sobbing again – still, his vision blurred by hot tears, dripping down his cheeks. He leaned closer over her, as if wanting to be even nearer to her, or as if to shield her, the sharp pain intensifying, though by now he’d almost grown accustomed to this tortured feeling, his body screaming at him, frantic and terrified.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t stop saying it. Sobbing, blubbering, whimpering and short, panicked breaths interrupting his words until he was hiccuping, wailing. Mourning her.

And now, once he’d started, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop. Didn’t think he’d ever feel alright again. How could he when his wife lay dead in his arms – while he was alive. There was no denying that, the pain tearing at him unmistakable proof of it.

He was alive while she was dead, what a travesty! It should’ve been him, it should’ve been him.

Why wasn’t it ever him?

Why did he keep surviving the people he wanted to protect?

Why couldn’t it be him?!

He didn’t know how long he stayed like this, uselessly caressing his dead wife, his hands not able to stop – they remembered, too – while his body was wracked by grief, unable to speak anymore.

And though he thought he wanted nothing more to join his Serena, the second Madison stirred, letting inhuman sounds escape, he was startled into motion, eyes landing on her hammer while he scrambled to his feet and he didn’t hesitate to smash her legs – he wouldn’t be fast enough to escape like he was – and he’d be damned if he let her rest in peace. She didn’t deserve that. Crawling on the ground in perpetual hunger sounded just about right for her.

Then he took Serena in his arms, gently, gently, finding her a last resting place, every step poor agony, every scoop with the shovel dousing him in flames, ruthless and cruel.

But he persevered. He always did. He always would.

When he finally lowered her down his hands tightened around her and almost didn’t let go—

But he did. He let her sink into the earth, started covering her with it, shovelful by shovelful.

Soon he couldn’t see her anymore but he continued, dutifully making sure she wouldn’t be disturbed. He let her go because he had to. He wasn’t done yet. He was still needed. Tracy still needed him.

And with one last look at his wife’s grave stone

he turned to go get his daughter back.

-The end-

*that the scene shouldn’t exist *at all* because Tracy begging like this

should’ve been enough motivation for Troy to free himself earlier is another thing entirely...