#hi please be kind i've been agonizing about actually posting this idk

[oliveroctavius]

If it's okay to ask, I'm curious what your initial thoughts are on the potential plot for the Insomniac Spidey sequel game! I'm still sorting my thoughts, but one of the things that definitely crossed my mind was how the story trailer reminded me of both TASM films (eg. terminally ill Harry as a major villain, the main villain plot being forcibly 'healing' the world, and we know from the MM post-credits scene that Connors is behind Harry's treatment with the symbiote, etc.), and while the main issue with the eugenics stuff in the TASM films is how it was framed as being both real and good and neither Peter nor the narrative ever challenges it, rather than just the villains being villainous and it could go differently here, I'm really not sure how optimistic to be at this point in speculation - but it's also not an aspect of the trailer I've seen much discussion on either.

having gone over the original game again, (geez I forgot how hard they went on the Spider-Cop bit) I still don't feel as pessimistic on this plot point as others seem to be... yet.

MSM1 had parallels to TASM1 too, without fumbling the ball as hard. Main villain starts as an ally researching limb replacement, partially for themselves; plot turning point is a Oscorp gene-cure-mist being released into the city with terrible results. It helps that Insomniac's medical science is just 50% less bullshit. Devil's Breath names a real genome editing tech (CRISPR by viral vector) and genetic diseases that aren't just disabling, but fatal (cystic fibrosis, Huntington's) as the intended target. There's no TASM-esque twist where victims with improperly edited genes become a ''devolved'' ''lower lifeform'' or turn murderous. They just get sick.

Otto doesn't consider using Devil's Breath on himself. His condition isn't even genetic. Dumb to have to point that out, but TASM Curt compares limb loss to agonizing death by disease (??) and proposes his amputation be "fixed" with genetic modification (???) while Otto's focus is on (embellished) mobility aids. The idea that brain damage from the arms made Otto evil is brought up and then refuted. Martin and Otto have social + financial motivations which overlap with but aren't fully defined by disability. They're well-intentioned extremists: they want to take down a crooked capitalist who's politically untouchable... time to poison random civilians!

Going by these trends: I expect Harry to have a fairly realistic diagnosis and to use real assistive aids alongside any sci-fi treatments (he has a cane for a second in the trailer). I expect that if he did inherit his condition it was from his mother, and the only person who might be weird about that is Norman. Insomniac Harry's previous vision for "healing the world" has been air and water quality, green energy, and wildlife health. If this changes, I expect a more nuanced explanation than "idk he's sick and crazy now".

Will I actually like it? Who knows! (Like MJ was fine. but she's not My MJ.) I'm still crossing my fingers for sentient alien Venom because I think it would make everything more interesting to have Venom the character rather than just the plot device.

I'm truly more worried for Curt--most of the Insomniac plotlines are pulled from modern comics. (For the love of god please let's not do Shed.) But comics Devil's Breath was a poison that killed only certain genetic lineages, and someone made the call to avoid that minefield of weird ideas. So. Hope remains that this will not be the TASM movies' kind of freakshow.

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU

Status: In progress

WC: 46k

Cas narrowed his eyes as he approached Dean’s bed. His proximity, not to mention the steeliness of his gaze, made Dean feel like squirming.

“I don’t care if you have a problem with me. I’m not going to let you drive home with a head injury. We were friends once, and I don’t intend to dishonor that by allowing you to do something this stupid.” When Dean opened his mouth to protest, Cas cut him off with, “Do you really want to do this right now?”

And “this” meant so many things all at once that Dean almost lost track of the argument they were having in the first place. Do you really want to talk about why I left right now? Do you really want to yell at me for disappearing right now? Do you really want to argue about who is and isn’t allowed to drive right now?

They stared at each other for a moment, Cas’s gaze unfathomable, Dean’s angry.

“No,” Dean grumbled. “Just get me out of here.”

Read on AO3. Chapter 1 below the cut. 

Note to Self: Never Work on a Ford Again

Present

Dean was attempting to replace the fuel pump on a Ford when Bobby called out his name. 

“Dean! Customer!”

He had almost gotten it, he just needed a couple more minutes underneath the truck. 

“Be there in a minute!” Dean called back. Bobby surely grumbled something under his breath, but it was lost under Soundgarden blasting through the speakers. He just had to connect the sensor to the chassis ground…

The music softened, no doubt due to Bobby’s bringing the customer into the shop. Dean groaned. 

“Hey! D’you mind?” 

“Let me have a damn conversation!” Bobby yelled back. 

“Old man can’t hear anything,” Dean grumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! I’m almost done, just a sec.” 

Two sets of feet appeared on his right side, which only served to further irritate Dean. He hated having an audience. 

Dean had the wires exactly where he needed them when he tuned into the conversation above.

“...So ya haven’t got a damn clue what’s wrong? It just stopped?” Bobby was asking. 

“That’s correct. I apologize for not knowing more. I’m… Not good with cars.”

That voice. 

Dean sat up, fast, hitting his head on the undercarriage. He cried out in pain, bright stars blooming all over his vision.

“Dean!” Bobby yelled. He grabbed onto Dean’s creeper and yanked him out from underneath the truck. 

Dean was still muttering curses under his breath, holding his hand to his forehead. When he pulled it away, it was covered in blood. Whatever he had hit, it had been sharp.

“Motherfucker,” he spat. He could feel it now, warm wetness dripping down the right side of his head. The pain was damn near unbearable, and when he tried to stand, the world felt like it might tip over. 

“Is he all right?” That voice again. Too familiar. But Dean was trying to focus on not passing out, and he didn’t bother to try and place it.

“Dean. Dean!” Bobby this time. “Son, can you hear me?”

“Uh huh,” Dean managed to groan. “Fuck,” he said again. 

“Idjit,” Bobby muttered. “That’s gonna need stitches. Hey, I hate to ask this of ya, but can ya get ‘im to the hospital? Everyone else’s gone home for the day and we got an appointment in ten. I’ll fix your car myself, free of charge,” he added. 

The stranger muttered something that sounded like agreement. 

Dean knew Bobby was speaking, but all he could hear was, “Black car,” “Dean’s,” and “Thanks, boy.”

Dean felt hands around him, lifting him into a standing position. That effort made him seriously consider throwing up. He tried to blink the stars away. 

“I’m fine,” he argued, but he was leaning on the stranger for support. 

“You’re not,” the stranger said with a long-suffering sigh. 

“Bullshit,” Dean said. “No hospitals.” 

“Dean,” the man said, and his voice held such intensity and familiarity that Dean finally had to look at him. 

And he knew he really wasn’t fine, because there was no way in hell Castiel Novak was holding him up with an arm around his waist.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” Dean said. 

“You’re not hallucinating,” the man said, but he sounded like he was under water. 

“You’re not him,” Dean thought he said.

“Get ‘im to the car,” Bobby grumbled. The stranger — who was decidedly not Castiel — obliged, and Dean felt himself being led to his car. 

Not-Castiel shoved his hands into Dean’s pockets and took out a set of keys. He then dumped Dean into the passenger seat and buckled the seatbelt. 

“Do you… Towel… Bleeding?” Not-Castiel was talking, but Dean could only make out a few words. 

“Trunk,” Dean mumbled. He felt like passing out again. The man came back and ushered the towel underneath Dean’s hand. 

The next thing Dean knew, he was lying on a stiff bed. One look at the walls around him, and he knew he had made it to the hospital, though he had no recollection of how. Dean groaned against what felt like the worst hangover of his entire life. The lights were so bright it was criminal, his head was pounding, and vomiting was a constant possibility. 

Dean turned his head, and immediately regretted it when the pounding intensified. Next to his bed, on a plastic chair, a man was sitting. His head was down, buried in some book, and all Dean could see was a mop of dark hair. 

“What happened?” Dean croaked. The man’s head shot up, and Dean’s stomach flipped. 

“Cas?”