#i didn't even like that scene because i think the time would have been better spent on explaining his motivations

[love-byers]

st4 music coding: yearning and miscommunication (& lumax/byler parallel)

alright here we go

this will be long so strap in

(yes this is the post i've been hyping up for like 3 days lol)

there's a song that i noticed plays twice in season 4, in two very similar scenes, and a third that ill talk about later. the first is lucas looking at the hellfire club celebrate, and the second is will looking at mike and el skate ahead of him. i've drawn a few interesting parallels here that i think really strengthen byler endgame. please watch the video above in tandem with reading the post

first of all the obvious: lucas and will are both yearning to be with what/who they're looking at. lucas wanted to be there for the end of the campaign. he asked them to move it, not cancel it. he wanted to be there because he likes being in the club and he loves his friends. and we all know will byers is devastatingly in love with mike wheeler, so that speaks for itself. lucas and will are both feeling rejected, forgotten, unneeded, replaced. they are also both looking at their sibling taking their place. erica took lucas' place in hellfire, and el has taken will's place at mike's side. mike and el were attached at the hip the whole day, and that used to be mike and will. will knew mike long before el did, and before they started dating mike and will were a firm duo. mike and el were heavy on the PDA that day, but mike used to be affectionate towards will too, putting his arm around him, holding his hand, sticking close to him, laying his head on his chest, hugging him, etc etc. now mike can't even hug him. and there's a special sting about your sibling of all people replacing you, and seeing your friends (or crush in will's case) having a great time without you, with the better version of you, not needing you, not even thinking of you. and right there, ladies and gentleman, is where will and lucas are wrong. sure, the hellfire club were happy with erica and about the fact that they won, but they wanted lucas there. the whole reason mike and dustin were upset in the first place was because lucas was choosing the basketball team over them. they accepted that lucas had "gone to the dark side" and went on to find his replacement. they feel like lucas doesn't need them anymore, that he's replaced them with the jocks. and little do they know, that is not true. lucas misses them and yearns to be over there celebrating with them. and though it doesn't seem like it in that moment (lucas' point of view), they miss him and want him there too. they are miscommunicating. the same is going on with mike and will. will feels rejected, ignored, replaced. he thinks mike has basically forgotten he was there. he thinks mike couldn't give half a shit about him. he thinks mike doesn't need him. he will soon find out that that could not be farther from the truth. mike was HOT AND FUCKING BOTHERED. he felt rejected by will. he felt like will was purposefully pulling away. he felt ignored. he felt replaced by will's non-existent friends and maybe even a girl will liked. he felt like will didn't need him anymore, that will was doing great without him. he felt like he had lost will. he, like the hellfire club, accepted (or attempted to accept) that they weren't wanted or needed and leaned heavy into filling that void. (meanwhile lucas' replacement wasn't sufficing, and will didn't even have one). and little does mike know, that is all wrong. he missed will just as much as will missed him. he'd been watching will all day hoping will would talk to him. meanwhile will thinks mike has looked at him like...twice, and so does the audience, because we got will's pov first. this is why the rink o mania fight is so all over the place and dramatic, they're basically running smack dab into each other at full speed. they're both confused because the other suddenly cares about their relationship, and they're both hurt. they are miscommunicating. the hellfire club enjoyed having erica there, but she's not lucas. mike enjoyed hanging out with el, but she's just not will. meanwhile , lucas' replacement for hellfire wasn't sufficing, and will never tried to replace mike at all.

onto more specifc and visual parallels: lucas, el, will, and mike all fake smiles. i really want to stress el and mike, because not a lot of people realize that shot is about both of them. mike is faking a smile too. mike is upset too. mike is trying to appear happy and satisfied too. like y'all please cut my son some slack he was having a BAD DAY. his whole day was shitty too just have some empathy. if you really pay attention, you'll see that mike and el are doing the exact same things in tandem. mike sighs, el sighs. mike fakes a smile, el fakes a smile. mike's smile falls, el's smile falls. they're both trying to conform, trying to pass of lies as reality. "I try to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies... I try to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes..."

now lastly: the scene of max listening to the radio call of the game. this falls right in line with the themes of the other scenes. she feels like lucas is doing great without her, like she's not needed. his life is just getting better and better and hers is getting worse. but she's got it all wrong too. she turns it off when the radio guy says "He must be feeling on top of the world right now". he was not. he was feeling shitty and missing his friends. he was missing max desperately, all the time. and he felt rejected by max, like she was steadily pulling away from him. and unlike the others where the distancing happens because of the miscommunication, max and lucas' happened because max distanced herself, and she was not there to see how lucas was really feeling, which was shitty. and yall already know im byler brainrotted as fuck so its extremely important to me that both times this track is used there is romance involved. in the ep 1 scene the song specifically trails into max's scene, roping her into this coding. mike and will are once again paralleled to a canon, requited, well written couple.

i don't really have any closing thoughts

actually here i have one: lucas and will parallels are the reason i wake up and breathe every day

and another actually

at this point to anyone who truly thinks mlvn are getting married:

and byler endgame but wbk

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 9/1

Anonymous asked: has sally been introduced to cursed tavros yet?

[ cursed tavros jumpscare :D ]

Cursed indeed - but mind you, I don't think I could do much better. My handcraft skills are nonexistent!

Anonymous asked: ol tavvy is down with the clown ;o) Anonymous asked: Please, if you will, imagine if when Vriska kissed Tavros, he told her that he was already dating Gamzee.

Heh. I really do think Gamzee x Tavros could have worked out, at least until Gamzee lost his shit. Hell, even if Gamzee did lose his shit, he'd probably still be less of a threat to Tavros than Vriska was.

Anonymous asked: Did you notice Gamzee referenced Earth in his rap? ("6 trillion hemos all up on one rock bleeding as equals") How do you think he learned about it? Some weird pre-game precognition or just his stoned mind being accidentally right?

This isn't necessarily a reference to Earth - but it wouldn't surprise me if it was, because Gamzee's cult seems fully aware of the existence of Earth.

The 'paradise planet' referenced in Gamzee's intro is stated to not exist yet, which is exactly how the narration refereed to Earth in Hivebent's intro. I believe that the 'rowdy minstrels' he's talking about are literally ICP, although he clearly isn't aware of that fact.

@wizardlyghost asked:

A sentiment shared by Eggman, every Space Player, and the villain of Muppets Most Wanted.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've passed where fedorafreak's gray, serviceable hand-held computing device's battery has died, you might appreciate the following short piece of fan art: www tumblr com/vastderp-placeholder/7741061457/savior-of-the-texting-world-rise-up

The fucking implication that the phone is the Player in this scenario is obliterating me.

Also, its God Tier form has wings. Was it a troll all along, or are wings a symbol of divine apotheosis in phone culture, too?

@clueless-rarito asked: Heeey paranatural reference! Hell yeah!

Is anyone else totally stoked to see Eightfold again? I know I am!

Anonymous asked: bilious sick 😭

English's trick made our Bilious sick. :(

Anonymous asked: One of, if not my absolute favorite, quotes/moments in Homestuck is Karkat’s speech to Jade about his failed frog breeding here. Just such a wonderfully tragic moment that stuck with me since the first time I read it.

In a comic chock-full of great lines, that last one might just be the best so far. This was one of the last scenes before Act 5's true finale, and it was an excellent pick.

@drakethedeep asked: One theory I've heard about the Denizen's Choice that tend to headcanon, Is that the choice is to be happy/free or to matter. That much as how God-tiers only grants survival by never having an impact, the denizens have thier playes coose between seeking their happiness and survival, or to struggle to achieve things that while objevtivly monumental, might not be worth the sacrifices needed to achieve it. I like this theory because of how it themes to fit the themes of Sburb.

I really like the space you're playing in, but I'm not so sure if all the Choices we've seen would necessarily fit this interpretation. After all, Davesprite implicitly chose the 'survival' option when he first met Hephaestus, and he's not exactly a happy camper. He didn't end up particularly free, either, since he was almost immediately bound to a Sprite, and later to the Battlefield.

I guess you could say he 'mattered', because he is he reason the Alpha Timeline exists the way it does - but, technically, everyone's actions contribute to the Alpha Timeline being the way it is. I definitely think there's something to this theory.

Anonymous asked: Without the Door to actually enter the universe, all you've done is make a really big frog.

I guess, when you think about it, there's not really anything they can do with their universe without that door. I suppose they could just fly towards their frog and hope for the best, but somehow, I don't think that'll achieve much.

@morganwick asked: Of course, even though he wasn't fooled by Gamzee using Terezi's "voice", Karkat still showed up on the roof anyway. Perhaps he decided he couldn't take the risk that Terezi was actually there and Gamzee might catch her unawares.

Gamzee's been having a lot of fun 'impersonating' Terezi lately. Just like before, I don't think he ever intended to fool Karkat with his transparent ruse - he just wanted to unsettle the guy. It worked.

@morganwick asked: If Typheus is the mailman, does that make him PM's favorite Denizen?

Maybe it makes him the head of her mail service!

We never saw any other mail Carapacians, and I kind of love the idea that they were operating out of a Denizen's Palace the whole time.

@bladekindeyewear asked: You said: "Mind you, I don’t know if it’s necessarily always a good or heroic thing to allow a Sburb Player full agency over their actions, nor is it necessarily a bad thing to restrict them, in certain cases." Oh I'm completely with you there. In fact, you might DEFINE Heroism as denying agency to those who would do ill, in part. This would make both "Heroic" and "Just" deaths result from trying to stamp your own intentions upon reality, halted by others. Neutrality would be ineffectual.

That's certainly part of heroism - but to me, it's not even close to all of it. A firefighter, for example, is heroic in ways which don't involve another person, as their only real 'opponent' is nature itself.

I personally define heroism as the will to do good, in situations where doing good requires bravery. 'Good', of course, is a fairly slippery concept, though, so that definition is just as ambiguous as any other.

Anonymous asked: Doctor Who anon here. Doctor Who has no canon for purely practical reasons. It's so massive - there's the show, but there's also the Big Finish audio dramas, the DW magazine comics, the Radio Times comics, the IDW comics, the Titan comics, the Virgin novels and short stories, the BBC novels and short stories. And no one owns all of it. The BBC don't even own the daleks or K9. And each piece of media will freely contradict others. No one has the right to decide what's canon, so they just don't. It's also because the people running Doctor Who the show have a deep respect for the extended media. In the 90s, it was the non-BBC licensed, fan-led projects which kept DW alive. Russell T. Davies, first showrunner of the modern era, wrote Virgin novels, so did Mark Gatiss. Nick Briggs, modern voice of the daleks, is the head of Big Finish. So they didn't want to decanonise that stuff, but they also don't want to be beholden to it when writing their own stories. So the fanbase tends to operate on tiers of canon. Basically something can be assumed to still be part of the show's continiuity until the show contradicts it. Big Finish would generally be considered the next highest "tier" of canon. The Doctor Who magazine comics probably wouldn't contradict the show, but the show could contradict them any time. The old books and comics are dubious. But that's all just fan categorisation. Officially, nothing has been deemed canon or not. In fact, rather amusingly, the only thing that has been explicitly deemed "canon" by the BBC is the Doctor Who: Battles in Time card game. That's officially canon. Nothing else. Not even the show.

I think I've heard of 'canon tiers' before, in the context of the Star Wars fandom. I think it's a good way to delineate how 'true' a given event is considered to be, especially in a large, complex shared universe - but at the same time, being consciously aware of these tiers might hurt your investment a little.

You'll never be able to escape the fact that your favourite stories or characters are effectively fanfiction, at least from the perspective of higher tiers. They have no influence whatsoever over the more ''real'' part of the story, unless they're promoted its tier some day.

I do like the idea that all the other Doctor Who stories are fanfiction of the card game, though. That's definitely going to be my canon, from now on.

@morganwick asked: Well, back in Act 4 you said that John and Dave would make S-Tier if and when "John [threw] aside his passivity to do something heroic, and…Dave [would] finally drop that poker face and do something sincere", which is why I pegged the suicide mission conversation as when Dave might make the jump.

I think, on reflection, it's almost always a heartwarming event that catapults a character into S-Tier.

In my opinion, that's one of the most impressive feelings that a work of fiction can inspire in you, mostly because it's really hard to get you invested enough for it to hit properly. Homestuck's pulled it off an extremely impressive number of times already, and we're only halfway finished!

Anonymous asked: It is so fucking awesome to see a new reader in the year of our lord 2024 2025 who's actually like. Engaging with the themes of the story. Lotta people just see it for the memes or the "totally random" plot but some of the shit you're reading into what's happening is like. Eerily similar to actual Hussie commentary. Gold star for reading comprehension, you do not piss on the poor Anonymous asked: Your homestuck liveblogs are lovely and insightful and make me remember a lot of details of the comic that have been lost to time. You will comment on something and I'll go "oh huh homestuck was better than I remember it being." Thank you <3 @honestlyvan asked: Truly your liveblog is the best kind of re-experiencing the experience. I'm surprised at how much your thoughts and reads parallel mine, it's kind of fun to see someone else's deductions go along the same routes. I can't wait for you to get to the Truly Horseshit portions of the plot (and I say this lovingly, I think you're in a great position to give us a real raw read on them without having to deal with the various Mega and Gigapauses) Also -- you keep pointing out a shitton of foreshadowing I didn't catch until my second readthrough. I can't wait for you to get to the bits where it applies and be like "son of a bitch", I think where I'm in the reading of your backlog and where you're in the reading of the comic you've passed at least one of those bits already :D @worldweary-walker asked: The liveblog is so cool. It's a lot of fun seeing you put things together, and the posts where you come up with three completely right conclusions and two wrong ones always amaze me. Impressive work!

Thank you so much! I know I say this a lot, but a lot of these sentiments are exactly why I like reading liveblogs myself. I'm just really glad I can do that for others.

I can totally understand why someone would just read Homestuck for the memes. I wouldn't have been nearly as analytical if I'd read it as a schoolgirl, and a lot of the 2010s fandom were even younger than that!

@divineerdrick asked: Now we have multiple explanations for what is wrong with the kid's session. Vriska has made herself responsible for Jack's rise to power, Karkat believes he gave Bilious Slick cancer, and Gamzee created the harlequin doll that would torment John and prompt Jack's rage-fueled act of rebellion. You've already suspected that Doc Scratch probably has multiple plans in play at once, and we can see that here. It seems he insured, through multiple causes, the kid's universe has always been doomed. Gamzee, as usual, seems to be the wild card. But he's acting out during a crisis of faith, a faith tied to Alternia's twisted social structure, which Scratch seems to have had a hand in. So despite how random Gamzee's actions appear to be, it's possible Scratch managed to seed even this seemingly unpredictable action.

I think Scratch probably did 90% of the work in making Gamzee go ballistic, from multiple directions at once. Looking back, it's shocking just how much of the comic was Scratch's doing.

'Caused' is a loaded phrase in Paradox Space, but what's happening is definitely what he planned.

Anonymous asked: It kind of seems like Rage as an aspect is evil, no? Do you think an aspect can carry an inherent moral weight? If not, what are the neutral meanings of aspects that seem to, and if so, how do you feel about it?

Personally, I doubt that any of the Aspects have a moral alignment - not even the scary-sounding ones. After all, you can Rage against tyranny, or bring Doom to a corrupt institution. Yeah, Gamzee is using Rage for evil, but his perception-shielding could just as easily be used to hide an innocent bystander from an aggressive Underling.

I think that more or less any ability can be used for both good or evil. The only real exception would be a power that's deliberately designed to be irreparably, comically evil. 'The ability to torture everyone for all eternity' would be one of those powers, but Homestuck's Aspect abilities would not.

@worldweary-walker asked: have you read Kill Six Billion Demons?

I have not! It's on my long and constantly growing list, which means I'll get to it between now and, uh, 2096.

Anonymous asked: re: the ancestors' story. WHAT IF WE ALL JUST CRIED like. the sheer transition from inane antics to the. that @corporalotherbear asked: There's a very popular fanmade version of the sufferer's final sermon and following vast expletive, voiced by a man that would go on to be the english voice actor of Izuku Midoriya. I can't add links to asks but if it's spoiler-friendly then your vetter can probably send you "The sufferer's last sermon"

Oh, I kind of love this interpretation. It really sells just how unwinnable the Sufferer's rebellion truly was.

@wolygan asked: I forgot how she is so happy when she is running away. This Girl is still able to believe that good is coming. Except Lord English won't let that happen, no matter what. @wickedsick asked:

That was possibly the fastest you have ever been proven wrong about something

That poor girl. She suffered just as much as the Signless did, but she'll only be known to Alternia as a monster - and unlike Troll Jesus, no one will ever mourn the Handmaid.

Anonymous asked: the sufferer cult is definitely independent of the juggalos! the use of the word sectarian to describe the war waged against the signless's beliefs is not a coincidence, imo. (we also see that highblood is most often used to specifically describe purplebloods). they're just two different religious organizations. given that the grand highblood was a juggalo man/subjuggulator and occupied significant power it seems to suggest that clown religion was a Big Thing among the purplebloods, which would not truck with the signless' cult being so small and secretive. there's one theory that part of the reason the neophyte was sent on mindfang's case was bc the GHB (given that mindfang mentions the neophyte was sent by subjuggulators specifically) knew she was a secret sufferite and wanted to get rid of her. mindfang does talk about how it seemed like they were giving up on her case entirely by sending just one neophyte (granted this is partially bc she underestimated her). it would track that while they definitely wanted to get rid of mindfang, they also were fine with the neophyte dying. this also follows with the fact that after mindfang gets out of that trial, she manages to persist without being caught right up until her death at the hands of the summoner. were they happy that the neophyte got killed, enough to stop putting much effort into mindfang's capture?

I think the Highbloods probably did set Redglare up. I speculated that it was possible when we first heard about her death, and that was before we knew she was a Signless cultist.

Also: lmao, do you remember when Hussie told us that the Juggalo Cult was 'obscure'? That's starting to feel like something that was quietly retconned offscreen.

@clueless-rarito asked: In case you like to know, "Dolorosa" is meant to evoke the spanish word "Doloroso" meaning painful but changing the O for an A turn it feminine.

Dolorosa; in other words, the woman in pain.

Fucking hell, she deserved so much better. It's amazing how much bleaker the Ancestors' lives were, compared to their descendants. Modern Alternia is bad enough as it is!

@lon-kasi asked: Fanwork recommendation: The same guy who did the EoA5 reanimation just did Intermission 2 as well. Like, less than six hours before I sent this ask. It's incredible.

Yessss! These are amazing.

My favorite parts are all the extra touches that weren't in the original animation, such as Rose beginning to realizing how badly she was tricked - or Jade, unused to her own powers, almost knocking John on his ass while she teleports him.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've seen what a Reckoning on Skaia looks like, you can see why Karkat was rushing Kanaya to get their frog done. Despite jumping the gun, skipping the lore elements and just killing their way to the end, the troll kids never had enough time. Especially since, now that I'm thinking about it, if it wasn't the Reckoning then it probably would have been Jack as the "time's up, now turn in your work" event. @marinerofthestars asked: With the revelation that Alternia was built to and ended up speedrunning an Sgrub/Sburb session to catastrophic effect (great job reading this far, btw), how long would you expect a “standard” session to take?

We've got two different asks here - one saying that normal sessions are meant to be shorter than Hivebent's, and the other saying they're meant to be longer.

I honestly don't know which I believe. It feels unrealistic for a Sburb session to take months, but Scratch really did seem to be saying that the trolls were extremely effective Players, implying most sessions take longer to beat. Maybe the reboot session will clue us in a little?

Anonymous asked: “How do you expect to out run me, When I Am Already Here.” Is such a hard line, and it’s completely missable in the alt text for the site banner. I know a lot of people missed it when these panels dropped. I remember HS being considered super unique because of how much the comic messes with formatting things like that.

I was super close to missing some of that scene, even though I'd already been warned about the alt text. There was just so much going on at the time, I almost didn't think to look at the banners.

@royalvorpal asked: "I thought words would be exchanged" How do you expect them to talk when they are in person?

pffffffffffffffffffft

Alright, that one fucking got me.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "But no, apparently not, because it took Karkat zero words and sixty seconds to completely shut Gamzee down. Now, don’t get me wrong, that’s incredibly impressive - but what did he actually do?" If you look back IN RETROSPECT at some of what Gamzee has been telling Karkat, it almost looks like pale flirting, like he was actually WANTING him to do this behind his threats. p3361: "FTC: i wonder if you can all be at with me in time and make me get my reconsider on?" Anonymous asked: You may not like it, but this is what peak moirallegience looks like.

Yeah, this really does make that exchange read as a little flirtatious.

Still, is this really how a moirallegiance is meant to work? Are moirails really expected to risk their lives to halt their prospective partner's rampage? This is starting to sound more dangerous than a kismesissitude!

@bladekindeyewear asked: I'm not sure how well it applies to the revised Homestuck website and it's probably impossible in the collection, but you could view any past/future page in any CSS format the site gave you with a keyword, like the black-on-green Doc Scratch format. So when Andrew did the "SNOP" to SBAHJ-mode, he was intentionally giving us a tool to view the ENTIRE SITE in SBAHJ mode.

There's a 'theme override' button, but I need to finish Homestuck to unlock it. I guess the comic's theme will change in more spoilery ways, later on.

Anonymous asked: Dolorosa/Mindfang is the true kicker of the “vriska keeps ending up in mirror relationships to her ancestor” belief, bc its the one where there is NO way vriska could know that shes in a mirror relationship. Eridan- orphaner dualscar and mindfangs romance was in the journal. Tavros- she knew about the summoner. But while there are hints to the dolorosas identity- sharp teeth, lower blood color, and a very vague if you stretch it hint about horn shape- no way vriska could have put those pieces together!!!

Man, it's still so fucked up that the Dolorosa went out like that. I still think it's at least remotely possible that she revived as a vampire, but I'm not gonna kid myself - her story is over. We're not gonna see her.

Anonymous asked: You've mentioned "ratfic" and something called "the Methods" before, is that something you've read?

If I could write an essay about Steven Moffat, I could write an entire thesis about Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality - but it'd be radioactively critical, and it feels mean-spirited to just post a rant about something unprompted.

If people want my thoughts in detail, I might stick them on the sideblog later - but for now, I'll just tell you that if it wasn't for that fic, XAE A-12 Musk would never have been born. Not a joke.

Anonymous asked: i love the complete about face on gamzee lol. "clearly the fact that he's gone nuts is something wrong with the timeline" gamzee is revealed to be responsible for lil cal "actually fuck this guy"

If we do ever recover the original Gamzee, it's going to really suck for him to face his friends. After everything he's done, will anyone ever really trust him again?

@elkian asked: Love the Exiles. So glad nothing bad happens to them, ever, (I assume the pause before the third s175 post is bc you, like me, took a break to cry over AR hesitating to kill his friend :,(

I was so bummed, guys. Carapacians don't have ghosts, I assume - so the Exiles, sans PM and maybe WV, are gone forever.

The Red Miles will probably have obliterated their corpses, so we can't even prototype most of them - but I'm holding out hope for Waywardsprite.

Anonymous asked: heh, you aren't alone in preferring god tier dave without his hood. i was around for when cascade dropped and wasnt able to watch it straight away due to the various troubles, but one of the first things i heard about it was people talking about how stupid they thought dave's hood looked.

I know, right? Like, yeah, it definitely says 'knight', but Dave's got great hair, and it feels like a shame to cover it.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "PCG: SHE WAS CONSTANTLY FIXING MY FUCKUPS. PCG: ROBOTS FROM THE FUTURE ALWAYS COMING BACK TO TELL ME HOW SOME HASTY SHIT I DID WITH FROG BREEDING OR WHATEVER WOULD MAKE IT BE IMPOSSIBLE TO WIN. PCG: MY OWN PERSONAL MISTAKES PROBABLY ACCOUNTED FOR MORE DOOMED ARADIABOTS THAN ANYTHING ELSE." Now that the Tumor's revealed for the precision device it was, it's also clear that Aradia, likely following the Horrorterrors' instructions, FORCED them to breed the frog JUST RIGHT to create the Sun.

Yeah, the existence of that precision device really fucking threw me. Whatever it did, the frog cancer probably was deliberately engineered to cause it - and I think it was engineered by Scratch, rather than the Horrorterrors. He was also talking to Aradia during the session, and this event was key to his plan.

Anonymous asked: (And one more ask from the person without a tumblr. -DJ) The thing is, Scratch could have just said "you must create the Green Sun, it is essential for the existence of the multiverse, not doing so will create a paradox". But either he chose to trick them, by only but saying "true words", just for fun…or there is some reason telling them about their true mission wouldn't work - RM

Either is possible, and it's pretty much impossible to say. That said, the Vast Glub is proof that he does just like messing with people, so I'm going with the former answer.

Anonymous asked: (forwarding another ask from the person without a Tumblr account -DJ) Do you think there are interesting parallels between Scratch and Tarquin from OOTS? - RM

Well, they are both meta-aware villains with extremely wide-reaching plans, and they're both pretty weird about women. Hopefully this means that Scratch's much cooler son will kick his ass in a later Act.

@bladekindeyewear asked: One tiny cute detail in Cascade I love is how when the Green Sun lights up in the distance for the trolls, Terezi tries to point at it, and Karkat gently takes her arm and re-points it in the right direction. XD

Shoulda brought the Smelloscope, Terezi!

Anonymous asked: The first time i read homestuck my shit bugged out and I literally just missed the entire scrapbook section and cascade. The SECOND time I read homestuck cascade gave me such a neuron firing high that only harrow the ninth has ever gotten close to

That's exactly how to describe it. Cascade blasted my neurons, in exactly the same way that part of Harrow the Ninth did.

@rwbypro asked: Ngl one of my favorite parts about homestuck is the fact that Doc Scratch Won, like he got Exactly what he wanted, and he played everyone like fiddles, one of my all time favorite villains in anything!

He did, the bastard! Scratch managed to pull it off without a hitch.

These are the exact kind of convoluted masterstrokes you want to see in a time-travel story, and I think English's machinations will only grow more intricate, going forward.

@sanctferum asked: The juggalo cult believes in a pair of mirthful messiahs rather than just the one, so if English is one of the messiahs, that's only half the equation. Presumably, the other messiah would be Scratch.

That works! I originally thought that the Messiahs were the two members of ICP, but let's be honest, they still could be. I absolutely would not put it past this comic to reveal that Lord English was Shaggy 2 Dope the whole time.

@sanctferum asked: So now that you've seen Lord English's true appearance: he's got a peg leg, and that peg leg is a golden cuestick, filling in the last missing piece of the Felt analogy - the one that moves the billiards around in the first place. For good measure, English's peg leg, single golden tooth and his garish coat give him a stereotypical pimp appearance, which is fitting given his treatment of his female servants so far (not to mention Scratch's own treatment of both the Handmaid and whichever female player he is manipulating at any given moment. He even explicitly uses the word grooming to describe raising Handmaid!). If there was ever a pimp for Dave to lock in his own crib while dropping it like it was hot, this would be him.

Ayy, you're right! I've been waiting for the Felt's cuestick since the Intermission days!

You're also right about the comic's villains. Scratch and English aren't just screwing over female Players - they've also been fucking with Mindfang, the Handmaid, the Condesce, and even Snowman. It's absolutely a pattern.

These guys aren't just cosmic villains, they're misogynist cosmic villains. Mundane evil and supernatural evil, all together in one convenient package of shit.

Anonymous asked: Now that we've gotten past this point in the comic- I just wanted to say I forgot Expatri8 was ever a name used to refer to Darkleer- mainly because all I ever see people refering to him as is Darkleer. And at first it kinda threw me for a loop when you called him that even though it's the only name you knew for him- Anyhows- You probably noted this at some point but only upper middle class to high blood colors seem to have name names, with some exceptions. Like, they're weird, but Mindfang, Redglare, and Dualscar are all fesable names. Meanwhile the lower bloods just have titles.

It is absolutely in character of Alternia not to allow lowbloods to have names.

Anonymous asked: Just read your liveblog over the last two days. I adore your analysis! I second that one person’s reccomendation of In Stars And Time. Also I reccomend the Blue Lips homestuck video, it’s lived in my head for ages. I’m 99% sure it’s safe to watch now? It’s about the events of murderstuck and I don’t THINK it references anything you don’t know. Anyhoot! I know you mentioned vriska being like Azula when you first started getting to know her. Now that you’re as far as you are, I’d like to argue… Vriska is more like Zuko, in a way? Like. The way she wants to wipe things clean, the way he wants to restore his honor. The way they both have a “parent” that leads them to how things are, and for a while they cling to that as “right” and how things should be… One time I saw a post that Vriska is girl Zuko and Eridan is boy Azula and all the comments were arguing that no, vriska is Azula, but lowkey that post changed my brain chemistry and idk why people were SO vehemently against changing the genders of the characters in the comparison

I think Vriska works well as girl Zuko. You're right - they both started off under the thumb of an abusive parent, and they both try to 'fix' their past mistakes without understanding the wider context behind why they made them. Now, does this mean Vriska will also be getting a kickass redemption arc, which turns her into one of the comic's most straightforwardly heroic characters? Possibly, but I ain't holding my breath.

It's a little harder for me to see the second comparison, though. Like her brother, Azula was made into what she is by her horrible father, whereas Eridan became what he is on his own, with some assistance from Alternian culture.

Perhaps there are layers here that I'm just not seeing. I haven't read the Avatar sequel comics yet, so they might do more with Azula's character that I don't know about.

@mrjocrafter asked: I was trying to think about what the characters' moon alignment means in terms of their characterization, thought "Prospit dreamers are relatively passive while Derse dreamers are relatively active", then realized that's only true for the humans, the Post-Scratch Trolls' 6 Prospit dreamers (excluding Sollux, as his 'official' alignment, according to the Extended Zodiac, is Derse) are the more active characters. Then I realized that on Earth darkness and dark-associated characters are edgy and countercultural, while on Alternia light and light-associated characters are countercultural instead! Goddamn this comic just keeps coming back for more themes Also, I know you've compared Taylor to Vriska in the past, but she really strikes me as more of a Terezi. Beyond the surface level stuff (like going blind and then relying on a supernatural sense), Taylor, like Terezi has a strong moral compass but will twist it into pretzels to do the most horrific shit and there's a 50/50 chance she even regrets it afterwards. Meanwhile, Amy, who I think makes a much better Vriska, does her atrocities either under manipulation (like Vriska) or just does it without thinking about it and feels bad about it later (hey, also like Vriska). Also, Taylor Hebert and Amelia Dallon are coincidentally both valid troll names.

Yup! Which means Kanaya is a troll goth, which is still amazing.

And... hmm, I'm not sure whether I'd call Dave active or passive. He certainly acts more on his own initiative than John, but he also spends a lot of time getting bossed around by Terezi. He's kind of in the middle, really.

I do think Terezi's reframing of her violence as 'justice' is very Taylor-coded - and Amy is absolutely a Vriska, if we're working off the 'female, controversial, and morally ambiguous' definition given by a previous asker. Plus, well...

...yeah. And let's not even talk about Ward. (Because I haven't read it.)

Really, all these characters are multifaceted, and you can draw many different parallels in many different directions. If I had the time, I could probably draw lines from each of the trolls to a different cape in the Wormverse - but for now, we must continue!

@morganwick asked: Bec's influence on Jack is so strong that not only is he reduced to following Jade around like a puppy, he kills CD for completing the mission he gave him and leaves Jade, one of the players he's supposed to be killing, on her quest bed, the nature of which he didn't seem to know about when it came to John. Bec = absolute king.

Bec is a king.

It really does seem like his influence over Jack is increasing as time passes. Is Davesprite going to get more birdlike, as well? Or is Bec just a special case because he's a First Guardian?

Anonymous asked: oh my god you really just cleaned the board with the last minute Dave+Rose quest slab guess??? Like. You were going on about other things and then you just casually mention "oh I guess this could happen too" like okay!!! Seer!!!!

Yeah, I'm pretty proud of that one. I was just thinking about how Aradia might help the Derse kids, once she'd met them at the Sun, and then it hit me: she's been in exactly the same situation, in exactly the same place, because of exactly the same sun!

Anonymous asked: dogtier IS in fact what the entire fandom calls her, if you came up with that yourself congrats on the authentic 2011 homestuck experience, move over carcinisation this is the new big thing in convergent evolution

I did, but come on. That pun makes itself.

Anonymous asked: Fun fact: the music used in [S] Begin Intermission 2, "English", is the same when reversed. It is an EXTREMELY excellent detail. And another example of Toby Fox being a brilliant composer. @sanctferum asked: English by Toby Fox is a really cool song in that its a musical palindrome, playing the same both forwards and backwards, as befits the titular entity. The whole Felt album it's from is based around creating songs with time gimmicks in them, so it serves as a very good semifinal track to almost close the album out. @emotionallyglued asked: You finally got to the part where our big bad man appears! Simple question to ask but I'm looking forward towards the answer: what do you think of Lord English's theme? Grandiose enough to fit a villain of his caliber or did you expect something more/else?

Oh, shit, that's cool!

I liked the song a lot. Sure, it's not as bombastic as the boss theme I went with myself, but it is much, much scarier. It was the perfect way to remind us that this wasn't really a victory - that English's plan went off without a hitch. Our heroes are still in terrible, terrible danger.

@morganwick asked: post/756751870755733504 Still think of Doc Scratch as "Big Cal"? @sanctferum asked: You've heard of Lil' Cal and Big Cal, now get ready for the deadliest and dastardliest villain of all: Biggest Cal. Anonymous asked: you've seen lil cal, now get ready for BIG CAL @lon-kasi asked: finally, Big Ca- well. actually. Scratch was Big Cal, wasn't he? so finally, Bigger Cal

This is the real reason Scratch wouldn't tell Rose his boss's name - because if she'd known her manipulator worked for Bigger Cal, she'd have been too god damn scared to go grimdark.

Anonymous asked: T1ck T0ck goes the God Tier Clock. Its chime signals the Br8k of Scratch's H34D. And with the arrival of Lord English, he lets loose two great, Vast honk HONKS. Anonymous asked: Did you notice something about the English sequence? First, we see Scratch's clock. t1ck, t0ck. Then, his head breaks. 8r8k H34DS. He releases the Vast Honk. honk HONK.

This motherfucker died to the very words that birthed him.

I guarantee you that this was deliberate on Scratch's part. He didn't need to foreshadow his plan so blatantly - but this horrible little troll knew that nobody would get the joke until it was too late.

bladekindeyewear asked: "S u c k e r s ." The bioorganic-looking Tumor opening up to reveal a precision device. Twice the mass of a universe. Doc Scratch fucking played EVERYONE SO HARD. We couldn't believe THEY CREATED THE GREEN SUN, so hard many of us watched without REALIZING IT. If you reread the talk Doc and Rose had from p3627 onward, the amount of TRANSPARENT DODGES AND WEASELING he did in that conversation to mislead Rose and the entire readership is so blatant and shameless, oh my fucking god!!! Anonymous asked: Not only did Scratch never said the tumor would destroy the green sun, he also specifically said they would travel to the green sun LOCATION, not to the green sun itself.

God damn it!

Scratch may have been stoic on the outside, but you mark my words: he was absolutely roaring with laughter on the inside.

@sunbluethinking asked: Regarding 'a dozen or two sweeps,' you do have to remember that it seems like one sweep is roughly equivalent to two human years? (See Terezi's and Dave's 'I'm six' conversation, or whatever it was.) So my impression is that a dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 24 years and two dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 48 years. Still really short, but not quite as absurdly short. (Which actually reminds me of the question of the problem of rate of maturation in fictional races with different lifespans. (Dungeon Meshi touches on this, but) in the case of Homestuck, I think it seems like the trolls mature to adulthood at about the same rate. It's just their adult lifespans that are different.) @bellcarved asked: If my math is correct, "a dozen or two sweeps" is a range of 26 to 52 years. Still not great, but 26 would be the low end of the life expectancy, while they tend to live around half as long as a human.

So either Aradia was about to die, or she wasn't - but either way, she was always going to die young.

We still don't know whether God Tier stops you aging, do we? I have to assume so, because death by old age isn't really Heroic or Just, but I'd feel a lot better if it was 100% confirmed.

Anonymous asked: And here we learn the story of Jesus and the second coming- @bellcarved asked: Now you know the truth: Karkat Vantas is the second coming of Troll Jegus Christ. Anonymous asked: I doubt I'm the first to say this but, the story of the Signless is undeniably based off the story of Jesus Christ. @skelekingfeddy asked: you do realise that the sufferer is Troll Jegus right. the irons/cancer symbol is the crucifix. his method of execution turned into the main symbol of a religion. the dolorosa is mary. karkat is the second coming. hes literally just Troll Jegus lmao @sanctferum asked: turns out, Terezi was right all along. troll jegus was real after all, and he was indeed the best jegus. shame on you for not believing, Dave

God damn it, Karkat. You hate yourself so much, even though you're literally the second coming of Christ.

And really does add weight to Terezi's claim that Alternia had the 'best' Jesus. Sure, says she's joking here, but... well, her Ancestor was a follower of the Signless, wasn't she? Could Terezi have inherited more of Redglare's legacy than we thought?

Anonymous asked: now that you know about the signless i recommend you take another read of karkat's long password on page 3972

...huh.

It almost makes it seem like Karkat's vaguely cognizant of the Sufferer's life, the same way the Sufferer was cognizant of his pre-Scratch incarnation. Funny, that.

@morganwick asked: "For a bisexual alien, his shipping is awfully straight, isn't it?" Well, consider that when he drew that he was trying to adhere to the human model of reproduction with its explicit requirement of one person of each sex, as best he could from his alien perspective. Note that in the same conversation he's struggling to understand the "human taboo of incest". @manorinthewoods asked: Karkat's humanshipping is straight because John told him he wasn't gay, and presumably, he extrapolated. ~LOSS (28/12/24) Anonymous asked: Karkat's very straight shipping chart is the way it is because John's Not A Homosexual:tm:

I totally forgot I came to the same conclusion, back in that legendary group chat.

Man, Rose x Kanaya is really going to throw Karkat for a loop. He'll probably think that John was just bullshitting him.

@skelekingfeddy asked: steven moffat is a valid troll name Anonymous asked: You've brought it up too much not to ask, what did Moffat do that pissed you off so badly?

Once more, I am very tempted to make this a full essay, but I'll save time by just pointing to Hbomberguy's famous Sherlock video, which I agree with, like, 80% of - particularly the Doctor Who segment that I've timestamped.

In a nutshell, Moffat was always really good at generating intrigue, and building hype for future events - but as a showrunner, he never really delivered on his promises, and was very fond of handwaving established canon to the side. Pet peeve of mine, as you can imagine.

@rwbypro asked: We warned you bro, we warned you about the most important character @skelekingfeddy asked: carcinoGeneticist may have engineered the cancer…but terminallyCapricious was the one who made it terminal. ;o) @capribornio asked: Honk, honk :0) Heyyyy you reached the part where Gamzee became my favorite enemy. Forget Vriska, Jack and Doc Scratch - Gamzee may have his buttons pushed by the good ol' Doc, but he managed to make things worse than even Vriska got to (and killed more main characters, too!). Anonymous asked:Congratulations on reaching this point. So, Gamzee chucklefucked the universe. Crazy, right? @bellcarved asked: Gamzee's "Bard of Rage" title is looking more accurate than ever, now. His own rage lead him to put the clowns in John's dreams, which ended up inspiring the rage that made Jack Noir go to the lengths he did. Bardic inspiration, if you will. …also, this makes Perfect Jack a collaborative effort between Vriska and Gamzee. @capribornio asked: I feel like you get Gamzee much better than most livebloggers (and a part of the fandom, too). Gamzee is an orchestrator, on a much bigger level than any could have predicted. The silly little troll dissappeared once he got off the slime, got his religion destroyed, and got Lil Cal.

I told you, guys! I told you Bards were overpowered!

Yeah, he's already getting pretty crafty, isn't he? Maybe, instead of manipulating Gamzee like he did the girls, Scratch has actually been coaching him. After all, his own manipulating days are over, so maybe he saw fit to train a successor...

Anonymous asked: if vriska was presented with a choice about the creation of bec noir, it would have had to be before the veil because the trolls only flee into the veil AFTER bec shows up and wrecks their reward- and that's their first introduction to him. any choice she could have made about bec/jack after that would result in a doomed timeline, because it would break the loop. that's why it has to be before the veil. @manorinthewoods asked: What I mean is that the Choice that would have prevented Bec Noir is something that would have made Vriska change who she was, in such a way that she wouldn't later make Bec. Vriska's Choice that made Bec can't have occurred in the Veil, because there wasn't a Denizen to give it, so whatever it was, it must have been something to do with character growth that she failed to do. ~LOSS (28/12/24)

Oh, right, that makes sense!

Yeah, poor Vriska simply wasn't self-aware enough to make such a Choice before the Veil. It's interesting what-if, though.

@flambeaufelid asked: ICP albums liveblog maybe??? (Do people liveblog music reactions? They should.) Anonymous asked: Since you mentioned the possibility of having to listen to ICP albums to understand Gamzee better, I figured I’d better let you know that while reading a bit about juggalos, ICP, and ICP’s music does help with understanding Gamzee better if you’re unfamiliar with them (though I wouldn’t say it’s crucial), I don’t recommend listening to their music unless you’re comfortable with graphic depictions of gore, murder, and other forms of violence. (Speaking from personal experience here; I tried listening to them because Gamzee’s my favorite character and quickly realized I didn’t enjoy that.) Anonymous asked: I would say listening to icp is not necessary… I tried myself and failed not even half way through one album so I admittedly could be wrong but… I think it was never intended to be THAT serious

I checked out Miracles, back when ICP was first brought up, but I haven't seen any of their other music. It's probably not actually necessary to listen to the band to understand Gamzee, but I might still do it for fun, since the graphic content wouldn't bother me much.

@skelekingfeddy asked: according to hussie the fifth wall is what divides two narrators/authors @sanctferum asked: According to Hussie's comments, if the fourth wall is the wall between the character and the author/their audience, then the fifth wall is specifically the wall dividing omniscient narrators from each other. or something like that

I, uh, guess that makes sense. Presumably Scratch would be our second 'author' in this scenario, even though he's not literally another author of Homestuck.

[mysoftboybensolo]

Things I Don't Understand of Audiences Reaction of Nosferatu 2024

Complaints of how this is a ripoff of Dracula, and I am like, of course it is! The original 1922 film is the most famous ripoff in the history of cinema, but it is also one of the best ripoffs ever. Maybe know your history just a bit.

Why are people saying that Ellen dying was stupid or unnecessary? Firstly, that has been the ending in the 1922 and the 1979 film, this wasn't just anything Eggers pulled from nowhere. Secondly, people don't seem to understand that the Gothic genre never not one that allows it's characters to walk away unscathed, whether it is physical damage or mental damage. Blood is demanded, and hardly a truly happy ending is found, at best a bittersweet ending or at worst an ending where everyone is unhappy. I think not only is it true to the films this one is based on, but also the only satisfying ending. Ellen wouldn't have been truly happy if she had survived, because she still will be a seer, she will still have darkness looming inside, and Thomas is either incapable or unwilling to accept it. He's belief that killing Orlok will bring a reset to everything, even bringing Ellen back to how she was before, but the Ellen she was before was still suffered. He brushes aside her nightmares without comfort, he doesn't take into account how she views their marriage (when she insists that she doesn't need material things but he acts as if he knows better), and when she tries to express her suffering, he would prefer her to suppress it. She would never be truly free, but to die doing a good thing, to have control over her death the way she didn't in life, it's an empowering end, if bittersweet.

People complaining about the pace of the film, saying it starts off fine but then drags in the middle? I think the film flowed wonderfully, there was never a moment when I was thinking how much longer to the end or felt it rushed in the story. I personally cannot wait until we get the extended version, but I am happy with how it came out.

Where are people getting "Orlok groomed Ellen" from? Grooming is when someone goes after a minor and gets them to be emotionally attached to them for a long period of time in order to achieve some sort of goal (often times sex). People have been saying Ellen was a "literal child", but we don't know that for certain. Yes, Ellen described herself as a child, but it seems that the term child is used more as a synonym of "inexperienced" or "young". Also, we are not sure how old any of these characters are. If we were to go by actors ages as guidelines, Lily-Rose Depp was 24 when filming this, and all we get in between the first scene to the present day is merely "years later". That can mean two years or ten, we cannot be sure. And while Lil-Rose Depp can look younger than her age, no one better try and say she was playing a 12 year old or whatever in that first scene, because there is no way you can convince me she is as young as that. Also, Ellen hadn't been emotionally attached to Orlok between the years to make it grooming. I can make a better argument of grooming in another famous Gothic movie the 2004 "Phantom of the Opera" then I could with "Nosferatu".

Listen, this movie won't be for everyone, that is fine, but what I have an issue with is saying people are dumb or evil for thinking Ellen x Orlok is interesting/has romantic elements to it. One person commented on another's post about saying that the cast are dumb for seeing this as a love triangle, especially Lily-Rose Depp for not seeing Ellen as a victim. The director, who also wrote it, wanted this version to play up the Death and the Maiden themes, that was their vision, and I don't think it's right or fair to say they are dumb because the original movie wasn't a love triangle. If we were to be really anal about it, so many pieces of media we have we wouldn't be able to enjoy because it's origins are not the same. Sorry Disney's Hunchback fans, you can't enjoy the happy ending because the original was a downer. Sorry Wicked fans, it's nothing like "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz", so it shouldn't be enjoyed. See how ridiculous it sounds? You can debate if whether or not they managed to achieve their goal, but you can't deny that was the intention and say people are dumb for picking up what they had intended.

I also feel that it's quite hypocritical of people to say that the relationship between Orlok and Ellen is evil and creepy, but then go off and say that the scenes where Friedrich has sex with Anna's corpse as "romantic" and Thomas' couch scene as "hot", when both deal with dubious/no consent at all. Just admit it, you are fine with dubious stuff so long as it's a hot guy doing it. The couch scene was quite uncomfortable for me, Ellen is clearly not in her right mind, even if not by some kind of possession, but emotionally, and it didn't sit right what Thomas did. I am not saying he raped her, but she wasn't in the right mind space to have this be a passionate moment. And he wasn't doing because of love or passion, he was doing it because he didn't like hearing Ellen say how he couldn't please her like the Count could. We had seen what they are like when they are in a good head space and the feeling mutual, as we saw in the den of the Harding's home. I feel like this scene wasn't meant to be a hot and sexy moment, but a incredibly distressing moment when two individuals are acting at their worst.

I don't understand how people feel that this film isn't a feminist film. I've seen people claim that the movie shames Ellen and that her not finding out how to stop Orlok is robbing her of her agency. Here's the thing, yes, many characters shame her for what she feels, but the narrative doesn't. As the audience, we feel sorry for her, feel bad for everything she is going through, and given the time period, of course there would be many people (mainly men) who will shame her passions or deny her darkness in favor for a more "womanly behavior". We are meant to see how the human world would never understand Ellen the way Orlok would understand her, why she would have called out a force that is inhuman, because humanity has turned her away. What's fascinating is that Ellen has control of Orlok, being able to call him, speak to him as an equal, and get him, a powerful centuries old being, to admit that she is his affliction, his weakness, and in the end, it's proven right. This mortal woman is able to defeat a supernatural being, all the while him loving her, how is that not awesome and feminist?

In regards to her finding the cure; true, in both the '22 and '79 film, Ellen figure out on her own what needs to be done to stop Orlok, but that doesn't mean '24 Ellen isn't smart or in charge of her own actions. We've seen Ellen say what the future holds multiple times, so it isn't crazy to believe that she would have seen what her fate would have been as it drew closer, and her need to talk to Von Franz read to me as her knowing the cure. When Ellen walks Von Franz to his home, she says that she knows what must be done, and they work together to make this happen, with him promising to keep Thomas away. Out of all the men, Von Franz had been the only one to take her feelings and thoughts seriously, and he does so here, including her in the plan (where Thomas had refused her to help), even giving her the chance to be stop Orlok without interruption. He isn't denying her agency, he's keeping others at bay so she can be the hero.

I like the moustache, just like a Romanian nobleman would have had, exactly what the director wanted. After leaving the theatre, my friend and I were discussing the film, and of course the design of Orlok was brought up, and she said "I liked it, especially the moustache, very Vlad the Impaler". She isn't a massive Dracula fan but she understood what was the inspiration behind it. Y'all are just uncultured swine.

In the end, I love this film, and wanted to just share my two cents.

[argentimybeloved]

About the reca with person who doesn't know him: imagine if he shows a movie of his without telling it prior, cuts any mention of his name in the beginning

Then, after it ends, and before the credit starts rolling, he's all "what do you think? did you liked it?" and you're just like "... I didn't understood what happened. Have seen better." and as you speak you go silent after seeing the credits rolling and seeing his name popping up... it's a priceless scene.

God I love that. I would feel so embarrassed too and immediately apologise. Even if we’ve been friends for awhile.

I feel even if Mr Recas ego was hit a bit down due to your comments. He does appreciate the honesty. Negative criticisms are just as important of course!

Plus he knows some people who dislike his films may not say it out loud. This may be due to the fact they know people who idolises him may come after them.

Or people lie because they hold him to such a high regard. So he does actually appreciate your honest opinions.

So putting aside his broken ego, he’s quick to ask what he could do better next time. He values your opinion a lot. Yes he does value others but you’re someone who seems to have finally said out loud to him your criticisms, he wants to gain your feedback and produce an even better movie so he can hear you praise it instead.

Next time you two watch a movie, whether or not you’re expecting it to be his movie he directed, he urges you to say your honest opinions.

And maybe even, if you yourself were a writer. You could even help him, he’d love to spend time with you anyways.

[numericalbridge]

i think it is especially hilarious that the fandom made such a big deal out of Darius' "only the small ones will get eaten" moment, considering:

how many times characters try to eat someone; not to mention many gags where the core characters are comicaly callous in inappropriate moments. And that Darius' line was framed similary as a comedic moment in canon!

[youandthemountains]

it probably is insane how much I wish I could express the thing about spones. the vibes about spones. Like there's the joking fun fandom vibes and I love them, I love to play with them, of course of course. but the THING. the CORE to me. i wish i could capture it and share it.

[spotaus]

New Age au (A Day at Dream's)

Hey y'all! This is another pre-story Drabble, this time from Dream's perspective! Exiled prince doing his best to interact with the populous and do his daily tasks! This was mainly just an attempt from me to get back into writing for this au, and ofc, fleshing out Dream! Hope y'all enjoy!

(Who do I normally tag? @ancha-aus @papiliovolens @mutzelputz I believe? Welcome back y'all!)

The morning was warm, something that Dream had to be grateful for. Ever since the incident, it seemed like he was faced with far more cloudy days than sunny ones, even in the midst of summer. The winters froze so harshly that trees would splinter at the branch, limbs cracking like cannon shots in the nights. The spring was full of awful thunder storms that spewed lightning and wrought floods, and the fall was constantly welcoming wind storms that threw around the rotten remains of plants all about. Even Blue had to admit that the weather was much worse here than his home kingdom, after the first year they’d spent at the very border of Orchard. 

Summers were hit and miss, either clinging to the traces of those awful storms, making everything sticky and humid, or beginning the dry season. This morning, as far as Dream could tell, might’ve finally been the start of a dry season. The garden didn’t seem to be swamped, it didn’t seem to be wilted either. The plants always seemed to know when rain was coming, because their leaves would downturn. After so many years, Dream made it a habit to glance out one of the back windows to make sure he knew just what to expect from the day.

Buttoning his over-cloak, he found himself lingering at the window for a second. He knew he’d have to talk with a returning scouting party later in the afternoon, their most survived thus far, but beyond that there wasn’t much else. Go about the camp, see if he could boost morale, maybe get in a training session with Blue…

Speaking of Blue, his loyal knight was seemingly nowhere to be found. 

Dream took a moment, crossing the quaint living room of their cabin to squint at the sky. Hmm, already past midday. He had been up rather late last night, night terrors plaguing him as they often did nowadays. He must’ve slept in, Blue had always been an early riser. Up just before the sun, back to bed late in the evening. Dream was pretty sure the only days he hadn’t seen Blue out on a morning jog were those that he asked the other to stick around. For safety, for planning, for breakfast… If he knew Blue well enough, which he liked to think he did, Blue was probably out right about now helping the supply carts unload to the outer tents. They always came in on the 2nd of every month, and the calendar marked it as such. Bless Blue for keeping such good track of affairs. 

The prince was practiced as he pulled on his remaining accessories. His archery gloves, which carried up to his elbows, and the thick leather boots gifted to him by a cobbler in the closest village. The boots were durable and comfortable, and while they weren’t the morst appealing at first, Blue had suggested that they find someone to embroider them with Dream’s symbol, the sun. They’d done so, asking one of the refugees they’d taken in if she could, and now they felt much more homey. Of course, it’d been several years now and they were looking worse for wear, but he’d grown a bit sentimental. 

These things were his, and he could keep them as long as he liked. No one here cared if they were mud-stained and threadbare in a few places, they were always looking at his face, after all. 

The moment they were buckled securely, Dream took the chance to stroll towards the door and push outside. 

Just as his plants suggested, the air was warm and dry, something which was deeply familiar to him, and admittedly placed him into a much warmer mood. Especially because, with the good weather, folks had gone about and placed their tapestries outside again. Banners and hanging pieces, all adorned with the shapes of the sun, in bright yellows, striking orange, and even some with that familiar pink accent. Usually, when it rained or snowed, they’d place the expensive and valuable symbols inside for safety, but with the warm air it felt only right that he could once again see his colors flying. 

It reminded him why he was doing all this. He had to regain power, to usurp his brother. Free him from whoever was whispering lies into his ears. Be crowned and see his sun in place of the moons which had infected every inch of the capital and many cities beyond. Though, for now, this was good enough. His own little paradise. 

The walk int the campsite proper was a little ways out from the cabin, a slightly thinner trail through a thin set of trees. Enough that he could see the camp, but the camp wasn’t directly connected to his little house, he needed his privacy every once in a while. 

From even the short walk away he could hear that the camp must’ve been bustling. Warm weather tended to make all of his people more active, it was familiar and welcoming, and rife with time to finish tasks like chores, or playing games, or, even better yet, training. Here there was no dedicated guard like back home, but the militia was very involved in wanting to learn combat, and Blue was certainly a good motivator for them. The clashing of steel and grunting of labored movements was one of several clue-ins that he’d have to stop by the little patch of dirt they used as a training arena of sorts. Off to the side of camp, with a few benches, a shed to store practice weapons, and several targets for aiming practice. Nothing fancy, but certainly enough for these people to learn. 

The prince could hardly help himself as he stepped into the camp proper and slipped that way. 

Each step passed colorful tents, heavy canvas died different colors by whoever most often occupied them. Some tenets were larger, housing the folks who stayed here as their home, run out of whatever village or city drove them off. Others were smaller, filled with supplies or individual tents for guests, dedicated to their returns. 

Dream passed Inl’s tent and smiled to himself in the silence. The inside fo the tent was piled high with half-finished paintings and splattered all over with different pigments. Paint was an expensive commodity, but Ink always seemed to know just how to make the brightest pigments out of the most random objects, plants and rocks and leaves he found on the ground, it was magical. The only thing he’d ever finished when he stayed at the camp for that brief while was the painting which Dream had practically begged him for, a royal portrait, or sorts. Dream sat atop a throne, Blue stood beside him at perfect attention, holding the sun-themed banner. It had been perfect, and it was another of Dream’s prized possessions. After that, Ink hadn’t had the focus to do any of the other paintings he started, but many of them were about tails of Dream’s usurpment, tails of tragedy told to him by the people, made in rough color splashes or with a big chunk of white at a corner where he lost his focus and moved on. Dream had gone inside once to make sure Ink hadn’t left anything behind before he left, but decided it felt lifeless and cold without the artist inside.And besides, Ink could never quite draw Nightmare right. Even though he’d drawn Dream perfectly, and they were identical twins, something always felt off about those pieces. 

The brief moment thinking about the artist fled. He was surely off killing some corrupt noble right about now for his own corrupt pay, and it was frankly none of Dream’s business so long as Ink wasn’t after his own people. 

His boots carried lightly over the soft grass, trodden down by the constant walking about camp. Light green and pretty, his heels sunk into soft soil beneath like some sort of bog, but it didn’t bother him a bit. If he had his way, the sun would stay out all day and dry up the ground a bit, make it more even and solid. Easier to walk over, less likely to slip into. 

To just his luck, only a few people spotted him in passing, waving or calling out to him, and a smile and a wave of recognition was all they needed to move on with their days. His aura must’ve been getting stronger, because he could only taste the ambient contentment from the entire camp as he wandered his way towards his destination. 

And, soon enough, it was upon him. That little patch of ground where the sounds had been coming from. Where the magic of monsters and the energy of humans were all alight with passion and focus. It was a wonder they all stayed so committed. Though, Dream had learned fairly quickly that people like these, who worked in farms, or crafts, making their money day to day, would work harder than any other person he’d ever met. Plus, it wasn’t nearly as hard for them to train as others. These very people could wrangle a steer with their bare hands, so all they needed was the fine-tuning and weapon training, none of the strenght building which usually took so long. 

That was probably why, now, they were as adept as they were with their weapons. Swords and halberds and morning stars and hammers, all of them clashed with another weapon or a practice dummy. Of course, there were only about 10 people out and about at the moment, but a few others sat on the sidelines. 

There was a brief moment where he was simply stood there. Something about combat, the thrill of the sounds and the movements and the force behind each swing, it was all mesmerising to him. He’d always been a natural with long-range weapons, and they were the only ones his mother ever approved of him using. Staying out of the direct line of fire, attacking from far away, that was what would protect his physical body, and his image. If he was struck in a fight, then people would look poorly upon him. Of course, if he’d become King he could’ve done anything. Could’ve learned the sword, or even daggers, and gotten up close and personal. Seen the flurry of emotions fly through his opponents eyes even before he tasted them. No mother to tell him no, no babysitter, nothing. Just him and the battle. 

Alas, here he is, still using his arrows, and still not using close-combat weaponry, unlike the training warriors before him. In fact, he was pretty positive he was one of the only people who actually used the arrow range, even if he didn’t need to anymore. Shots were engrained into his mind, muscle memory practically as easy as sleeping. Maybe easier, actually. 

Regardless, he found himself forcing his eyelights past the forms of the fighting parties, and instead skimmed for Blue. Dream didn’t want to interact with the merchants today, but he knew Blue’s next stop would most likely be here. He couldn’t ever pass up as great a day as this to practice.

“Prince Dream!” The call for him was loud and excited, and a hot rush of child-like wonder burned through his focus as he stood waiting. 

His eyelights shot over, catching sight of a monster he knew should be familiar to him. There very very few people who brought their little ones to the camp, for safety reasons mostly, and those who did often had very subdued children, ones who rarely spoke or played or caused trouble. This child was entirely different. Dream always knew they were nearby, because children’s emotions were far more potent. Adult emotions felt like a warm bath, while children’s joy, for example, was like someone had splashed hot tea onto his lap. Not painful, but far more striking. 

The tyke who rushed towards him now was giggling in high-pitched squeals and stared at him with two bright orange eyelights, beig and round. He was a little skeleton, maybe four, who had white bones with splotches of a greyish hue splattered across his face and hands. Today he was wearing a little white and yellow tunic which had obviously taken some falls into the grass since he put it on that morning.

“Copper, what did we say about running with the practice blade?” Another voice called out, this one deeper and far more familiar to Dream.

The little one, who Dream now spotted was carrying a dulled wooden dagger in one of his clumsy hands, bolted past Dream’s legs, only to pivot and rush in circles around him with an energy unmatched and giggles that were unrivaled in joy. HE was obviously getting enjoyment out of causing mischief for his guardian. 

Dream’s gaze traveled away from Copper with his smile in-tact, not getting a look at the adult whom he knew he knew. Eclipse, one of Copper’s two parents. He was also a skeleton, older than Dream by at least a decade, and much taller with broader shoulders. His bones were a perfect white, his face a bit long, and his eyelights a simple white. He was wearing a tunic not unlike his son, but adorned with all sorts of belts and a heavy fur wrapped around his shoulders despite the heat. It was a dark brown, his partner’s prized pelt. 

Of course, he should’ve expected to see Eclipse sometime today. He’d been eagerly awaiting his partner’s return from the mission. They’d be back tonight.

“Eclipse, how have you been?” Dream asked courteously, drawing his eyes back to Copper with a plan rapidly forming. 

Eclipse came to a halt beside him, at least an arm’s length away, and sighed a fond sigh. “I am faring well, all considered. Since Ichor went off for this mission, Copper’s been insisting that he has to learn to fight so he can protect us.” Eclipse said. “I apologize for his antics, he’s insisted that he start training right away.”

Eclipse sounded humored, but Dream could feel the tiredness seeping from his shoulders. A tension that was surely weighing on him. For a moment, it had entirely slipped his mind, but a glance confirmed his suspicion. Ichor and Eclipse had been away from camp fro a few weeks, about four months back. They’d had a soulling, and now it sat bundled in Eclipse’s arms, quiet and content, probably sleeping. Something warmed Dream’s heart, knowing that this little skelton was under the impression that he could defend his father and little sibling. 

Dream chuckled under his breath and gave a genuine grin, letting a small burst of positivity wave away from his core, pushing back a bit of Eclipse’s worry along with it. 

“No need to be sorry, I was eager to train when I was young too.” Dream confided, but before Eclipse could give a response, Dream crouched and shot his arms out, catching Copper under the arms and practically tossing him up into the air. He was obviously taken by surprise, because he shrieked with glee and stared at Dream with his big eyelights and the biggest smile. He looked a lot like his other parent, Dream realized. 

Copper giggled and Dream held him aloft. Copper hardly weighed anything, and it was a little cute how he kicked his muddy little boots in the open air as Dream held him aloft. He was entirely unbothered by his capture, and the energy obviously had yet to fade. 

“So, you want to be big and strong to protect your father and little sibling?” Dream asked to Copper, making a mock serious face, obviously exaggerated and playful. 

Copper gasped and nodded rapidly, excitedly brandishing his little wooden dagger. “Papa gave me dis! I stab any bad guys!” He insisted excitedly, swishing it around wildly in his little hand, arm limited to his side by the way Dream was holding him. 

Now this was an excited little fellow. Very cute and lively. Dream wondered if he ad this much energy, rushing ahead of his twin to get out into the courtyard and run around, climb the trees when their babysitter wasn’t looking. Nightmare sometimes wrestled with him, he missed those days. 

“Well, I thin you have the makings to be a brave warrior!” Dream encouraged, Copper wriggling happily in his grip, “Just remember, your papa and father want to keep you safe too, so listen to them, alright? That’s how you can get to be just as strong as them.” 

This was met by Copper’s nodding yet again, “So, don’t go running with that dangerous blade, alright? You might accidentally stab a not-bad guy.” Dream added, to which Copper gasped.

The little boy pulled one of his hands to cover up his mouth with wide eyes, shaking his head vigorously. “I won’t stab a not-bad guy! Only bad bad guys!” He insisted. 

Dream just shook his head and tutted, “I know, I know, but accidents happen! My friend Ink, he fights with knives sometimes, and he tripped and almost stabbed someone right in the eye once!” Dream exclaimed, and closed his right socket dramatically. 

This seemed to make Copper hold back a growing smile, and instead his expression was something almost close to a pout. His best attempt at a serious face, Dream had to imagine. Copper nodded one singular, forceful, nod this time. Some sort fo silent pledge not to run with his dagger anymore. 

Dream smiled at him, “Good, good! First step to becoming a strong warrior, listen to your parents.” he insisted, before lowering Copper down with a smooth motion. 

The kid giggled again as Dream rustled the top of his skull, and Copper made careful steps towards his dad, an obvious attempt at suddenly being responsible with the harmless wooden blade. Dream was a little proud, usually he did much worse with kids, had to resort to his magic. Maybe Blue was rubbing off on him after all.

“You really are a miracle-worker, my Prince.” Eclipse said softly, reaching one of his own hands down to gently caress the top of Copper’s skull. He nuzzled into his father’s leg and hugged it, attention distracted by watching the other fight not far off from them. 

Dream didn’t deny it, and instead just slunk a bit closer. He peered down at the babybones wrapped in Eclipse’s arm, held snug in place by a sling. It was pearly white just like its brother, but had a slightly longer face with pronounced cheekbones. Dream couldn’t help but notice the tension return to Eclipse’s emotions. 

“What’s their name, have you two decided yet? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to check in with you sooner.” Dream asked.

Eclipse seemed unbothered when Dream lifted a hand and gently brushed it against the babybone’s skull. It didn’t stir, didn’t even seem to register the contact. 

“His name is Steel.” Eclipse answered softly, “I told Ichor we wouldn’t be naming any more after metal alloys, but I can never say no to him. Steel’s eyelights are a beautiful shade of metallic silver, it was just too fitting.” Eclipse muttered. “And please, don’t trouble yourself with it. We are well aware of how busy you have been.” 

Eclipse gently bounced his arm a bit, and the babybones curled a bit closer to his chest, burying into the fur cloak draped over Eclipse’s shoulders. He seemed a bit more at ease as the little one gave a little smile in his sleep.

“Handsome name, Ichor has good taste I’m afraid.” Dream teased, eliciting a smale laugh from Eclipse.

“Do you think he’ll make it home safe, my prince?” Eclipse suddenly asked. 

Dream blinked in surprise, looking up to Eclipse. The other skeleton still had his eyes on the babybones tucked against his chest, but Dream had a feeling he was being watched nonetheless.

“You mean Ichor?” He asked, and to a hum of confirmation, he tilted his head with a grin, “I’m sure he’ll come home safe and sound. Blue’s been sure to send him on non-combat missions, and with plenty of back-up and supplies. We both know that he has a family waiting for him here, we wouldn’t send him anywhere dangerous.” 

That was a lie. Dream didn’t have any qualms about it. He just knew it was a lie. Every mission was dangerous, could turn to combat, and might end in death. Every person here, as much as Blue tried to deny, was expendable. They were part of a cause, they had to be. Of course, Dream would never put children in danger, but Ichor, just like every other person here, came willingly looking to help. He volunteered his family for this willingly. 

Of course, that isn’t what people like to hear. So, he’ll tell him things he’s heard Blue say. Blue was so kind-hearted, a softie. The moment he heard Ichor and Eclipse were having another soulling he’d re-assigned all their missions and work, and even after they’d both recovered, after Ichor was no longer carrying, he sent the guy on the easier missions. Blue didn’t want to split a family. 

Eclipse sighed, almost with relief, at Dream’s words. “Thank you, my Prince. I suppose I’m just worried over nothing. I’ve been known to do such silly things.” Eclipse relented, and smiled. It was tired, but much happier than before. Dream’s aura must’ve finally gotten to him. Broken down those worries. 

“Anytime, Eclipse. I suppose I’ll see you at their return tonight?” Dream voiced, though he knew the answer. Of course he’d be there. 

Eclipse only took a few more moments, wishing Dream a good rest of the day, before he ushered his son foreward and off elsewhere. Dream waved goodbye to them until they passed a corner, and he internally sighed in relief as he turned back to his original goal. 

Dream moved closer by a few paces and plopped himself down onto one of the benches, one side left empty by someone who had just rushed onto the field. He summoned his bow to his hands and fiddled with the string, and ill-disguised attempt at seeming busy as he just watched the proceeding spars. 

So many people stopped him daily around camp, often simply wanting to chat and catch up on their lives. Eclipse’s new babybones was, thankfully, the most exciting piece of news in the last few months, but before that was a wedding between a bunny monster and a hare monster, before that was the death of someone’s spouse and a subsequent burial, before that siblings reunited, they all had their own stories and things to keep track of. Dream found it trivial, but unfortunately, everyone expected him to now these things, remember them, keep track and ask when they met outside of business times. If he wanted these people to stay, he needed to know. 

His only grace was that Blue was very talented in chatting. Where Dream could rouse crowds and battalions, Blue thrived in a setting of just one or two, and somehow knew just about everything about everyone. They’d talk over dinner, about what they did while split up doing their duties. Dream would tell him about the state of the garden, or the new map he managed to draw up with the cartographer, while blue would tell him all the latest menial news. Crushes, holiday plans, when new people were coming in, all of it. He was always so happy, that Dream simply learned to remember it through him. Shockingly an easy feat. 

The clanging of swords and the heat were both a welcome comfort, Dream was soaking in the sun like some sort of lizard on its rock.

Dream just hoped he wouldn’t eat his words later. Blue had sent ichor and a few others on a mission to simply attend the latest ball, and annual celebration for one of his brother’s elite knights. The Criminal, he thought, the one with the tiger mask. Killer. The parties hadn’t had conflict in the four years they’d been running, and Dream was pretty sure ichor wouldn’t go missing. Yet, anyone they sent directly to the capital had a habit of not returning. Blue had forbade him from sending more spies that way, and had only agreed to send a small party because the ball was meant to be open to the public, so they wouldn’t be technically intruding or trespassing. Along with that, Ichor wasn’t directly affiliated with their cause. Eclipse, up until now, was usually the one more familiar with intel-work. Ichor had always been more focused on welfare and support. So, Ichor couldn’t be recognized. ‘

Dream would just have a lot of explaining to do if his promise went awry. Grieving souls were never easy, especially those who had children in tow. They often loved the hardest, and fell shortly after their beloved. Frankly, Dream didn’t want to lose two promising members of the rebellion, or be left with their children in the worst case scenario.

The prince sighed to himself. Blue would scold him for thinking like this. Maybe he should worry less about the return party and more about his own training. He couldn’t risk getting rusty now. 

-     -

Dream was aware the range was a bit out of his sight from where he’d wandered off to get a drink of water, but when he returned, he hadn’t expected to find an arrow embed itself into the block he was passing beside. 

He jumped a bit with the force of the heavy thunk and almost choked on his own breath when he spotted exactly who was actually training with a bow of all things. 

Across the range, looking wide-eyed and surprised, was Blue! He had their heavy long-bow clutched in his right hand, an arrow hanging to his side y his left, and a whole slew of arrows leaned against the fence behind him, the kind with thin, piercing points that could tear through armor. Dream had never been more baffled, amused, and amazed all in one. Why was Blue training archery?

“Dream! Hey!” Blue called out, and he sounded a bit awkward. 

Dream took a moment to examine the arrow which had pieced the block of hay they were using as a target. It had entirely missed the circle, actually passing itself at an odd angle through he side, the point poking out from the other end haphazardly. That must’ve used a lot of force if nothing else. 

Actually, it seemed Blue might’s been making some progress. Dream had been gone for almost half an hour, caught up in talk with one of the new refugees, welcoming them to the camp. That had given his knight plenty of time to try more than enough shots. Dream spotted now the several arrows which had dug themselves into the dirt, all at a downward falling angle as through Blue had been aiming for the dirt. Then, beyond the hay bale, he could see that several trees in the woods beyond had arrows embedded in them. He didn’t know how he’d missed them, honestly. 

Dream circled back and gripped one which had dug into a pine tree’s skinny trunk, and tugged with all his might. He nearly stumbled, and the end of the arrow seemed to have sap coating it, like blood of the tree itself. 

Dream actually laughed as he finally approached his knight, the arrow in-hand. 

“If you wanted syrup so badly, we could’ve asked for some on the resupply.” Dream joked.

He tapped the shaft of the arrow to the top of Blue’s skull, and the knight sheepishly ducked away from the sticky feeling, the arrow moving with him for a moment before springing away. Blue’s eyelights didn’t evade Dream’s, but Dream couldn’t help but notice the embarrassment becoming far more potent from his friend. 

“Ah, yes, you see…” Blue started, before pausing, “I had no intention of harming the flora.” Blue said, though it seemed a bit half-hearted. 

Blue rubbed at his skull as he lowered the long-bow from his front, down to his side. It was a huge weapon, with a string practically made of metal. Dream didn’t usually bother with the long-bows, sticking to the normal bows, or in desperate situations, crossbows. It took way too much power to shoot a longbow for his liking, limited movement. Usually people on horses used them. Dream couldn’t see the light leave someone’s eye from atop a finicky horse. 

“It was a good shot, even if you didn’t mean to hit the poor tree, Blue.” Dream amended. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Blue, it was obvious the mood was tanking with Dream’s ill-timed jokes. “Can I ask why you’re trying out the long-bow today?” 

The feeling of Blue’s pride washing over Dream like a comforting blanket as the other seemed to get a second wind. He puffed his chest and lifted the bow right in front of him again. 

“The Magnificent Blue has actually been learning to shoot for some time! The smaller ones that you use are not very cooperative, but this large one does well!” The explained proudly, “It was meant to be a surprise, but I would not lie to you!” 

He seemed largely unbothered by the fact that this secret of his had just been broken wide open. Though, Dream had to imagine this had been going on for a while now. The last time Dream had seen Blue attempt to shoot an arrow, it had narrowly avoided breaking their window in the back garden. They still had a notch in the wall on the back porch, because Dream begged Blue not to fill it in. He’d laughed so hard, and back then he’d needed a good-

“Wait, why was it going to be a surprise?” Dream asked curiously, raising a brow to watch Blue.

The knight laughed loudly, “Because! The plan was to get very very good at it, and then join you for a practice one day and show you! I know you are very talented with lond-range weapons, and if I were too, then I could fight beside you without placing you in danger! You mentioned it once, a while back.” Blue explained as though it was the simplest thing in the world. 

Dream felt a little something in his chest shift to the left as he processed what Blue was referencing. He had mentioned that. Back when they had to scare off some bandits during their trip here, before they found the cottage. He wished Blue hadn’t had to charge in while Dream sat up in a tree and shot at them. Dream had wanted to be in the fray, but… Blue thought he wanted them both to be long range fighters? So they could stay close? 

That was up there with some of the most heartwarming things Blue had ever done for Dream. Trust him, there were a LOT of heartwarming things Blue had done. This was surely, however, in the top 15. 

“Oh, that’s kind of you.” Dream said gently, 

In his distraction, Blue had knocked another arrow and lifted it up. Lined it. Drew the string back. Released. 

The heavy string cut through the air with a vocal slapping noise, and both skeletons watched idly as the arrow arced through the air and just hardly skimmed the top of the hay bail, chunking into the ground somewhere behind it instead. There was a moment of Blue letting out a breath and calmly lowering the bow before he grinned again at Dream. His expression was so concentrated not two moments before. 

“You know that I would do anything for you, Dream. Besides, using a bow is rather fun! I was unaware of how careful you have to be while firing, and setting it up, and aiming.” He listed off with a laugh. 

Now the bow was back at Blue’s side, and Dream was even a bit impressed with his bow etiquette. It wasn’t pressed to the first at his side, he wasn’t fidgeting and bending it, even his motions before he hadn’t dared to dryfire with it. He wondered if Blue had picked it up from him, or if he’d sought out advice from another bowman somewhere. Either way.

“I never meant to discourage you from using your hammer, Blue. I know you’re the happiest while fighting with it.” Dream said earnestly, “But if you wish to continue working with the long-bow, I’m sure I could give you a few pointers.” 

At the enthused expression he received from his knight, Dream grinned, “And then maybe you could teach me to use a hammer. Or, maybe a morning star? They always seemed to have a fitting name.” Dream teased, but Blue seemed even more delighted by the thought.

“That sounds great! We should start now!” Blue agreed, and readied his bow again. 

Dream was a bit startled, but couldn’t bring himself to deny the enthusiasm. After all, he’d been hoping to train with Blue today anyways. 

He watched again as Blue lined up his shot, but this time, he actually watched carefully. He moved behind Blue, and immediately saw a smidge of problem. 

“Here, lift your elbow a bit higher.” He instructed, He stepped forward and set his hand under Blue’d elbow, the one which was pulling his arrow back. He shifted under the touch and stopped right where Dream stopped nudging. Immediately his posture looked a lot better, and his aim seemed more sure. 

“Try pointing a bit further to the right, you’re leaning left.” He added on, and saw Blue squint a bit harder at his target, before repositioning his aim, shifting his feet along with it before Dream could say anything. 

Then, when Dream gave the commend to release, Blue sent the arrow flying. 

This time, it whistled as it shot and struck the bail right at the top ring of the target, almost dead center. Blue whooped an excitement, and Dream hummed. He could’ve sworn that would’ve hit the bullseye…

Without much through, Dream summoned his own bow and took aim from Blue’s side. His night went quiet, watching intently, and Dream let loose his arrow with less than half the preparation time, hardly a thought. Just as he’d expected of Blue’s, the arrow pierced the center of the ring flawlessly, though it didn’t sink in nearly as deep. His brow furrowed as the stared at the target. Why hadn’t Blue’s shot done that?

Sure, the bow was heavier, the arrow too, but the fundamentals should’ve been the same. The golden arrow and landed below the other one, why was that?

“Dream?” Blue’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Dream blinked at Blue, and Blue stared back at him, seeming mildly worried.

“My apologies, could you try hitting my arrow? I’ll spot you again.” Dream requested, and Blue just nodded and prepared himself again. 

This time, Blue automatically placed his elbow up and turned himself to the right. Dream didn’t even need to do more than a little nudge to his arm to encourage a slight but more movement to the right. Blue should strike this perfectly.

The arrow flew, beautifully with a bit of a spin, and… Lodged a few inches to the left of the target. He was aiming right! How-

Ohhhhhh.

“That was great, Blue! You had everything but an extra set of eyes to direct you, good work!” Dream praised.

Now Blue celebrated properly, wrapping his arms around Dream’s sides in a heavy hug. A familiar one that Dream returned, as he realized how silly he had been for a moment. His arrows weren’t affected by the wind. Blue’s weren’t magic, so of course the air would throw them off course! For a brief, horrifying, moment he worried he’d somehow stumbled in his directions. It was just the wind. 

Blue's hug was tight and affectionate, and very very welcome. Dream savored it, returning it tightly, until Blue released him and raised the bow once more. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to train until the caravan arrived in a few hours.

-    -    

Poor choices. He didn’t make many, but he wasn’t going to try and claim that training right up until the arrival was a good call. All he was expected to do was welcome them back, and then listen toIchor recount any important information they’d picked up on, but still. He didn’t enjoy being all grimy and sweaty and middy was the best look or the most comfortable. His only solace was that Blue was equally messay, so he didn’t feel too out of place.

Ask they approached the path into camp, they saw that the light of a lantern was glowing just a bit down the way, and there alone the road stood the sentinels for the night, and Eclipse. 

Eclipse still wore that same tunic as before, though it had gained a grass stain along the bottom hem, no doubt from Copper breaking off at a full sprint at some point during the day. The skeleton himself was without his children, and when Blue greeted him and asked, it turned out he’d left them with someone named Jodie. One of the humans, he believed, a kind elderly woman here with her adult son. Eclipse looked exhausted, but Dream could tell is must’ve been from building worry. Nim help him and make sure that Ichor returns on that cart in one piece.

They stood there together in the quiet, and when the carriage pulled to a stop before them, Dream counted as each person hopped off and stood at attention before himself and Blue. One, two, three, for, five, six, seven… Eight. Ichor must’ve been looking to give his partner a soul-attack, because he was the last of the party to jump off the back of the cart, a thick bag slung over his back and his grin wide and stupid as ever.

Dream acted like he didn’t notice as Eclipse bowled into Ichor’s side, nearly tripping the both of them over and into the grass. Technically, procedure was that Dream would be the first to hear any of them speak, as they could’ve been keeping secrets. However, he knew better than to get between lover birds. That was more of a headache than it was worth. 

Only when the two were done and Eclipse gave Ichor a swift peck on the forehead did Dream usher everyone into the debriefing tent to discuss their findings.

“You’re saying he’s bringing in new knights?” Dream questioned.

Everyone had been explaining their stories, but it seemed that Ichor had managed to get the closest. Hear the most. A servant had tripped over him and spilled a red wine on his suit, so he followed them back to the servants halls to get it cleaned up. Because he was so amicable, the maids weren’t very quiet and told him exciting news. Two more knights being trained.

Ichor had asked more, as much as he dared, but all he could get was that one of them was straight out of the dungeon, and the other one was burly and definitely a foreigner. Some sort of hired body, they swore. It’d be fall when the next party was rumored to be happening. 

Dream hated to hear such a thing. The first criminal was enough, but this second one? And then another? Dream couldn’t fathom what sorts of horrible plans were being fed into his twin’s mind, what horrid plans they were going to enact, criminals and thugs running the country by his brother’s side? 

He sighed a bit, resting a hand against his chin. 

“Did you see my twin at all?” He asked then, to the group.

Ichor was the only one to nod, and Dream gestured to him. 

“The guy was just as guarded as ya said. The Tiger kept circling back up to the balcony where he was hanging, but the stairs were all blocked off by guards, and some other folks were sitting up there with him. Magic on one of ‘em was strong.” Ichor explained, and Dream squinted as the torchlight glinted off of the skeleton’s single gold tooth. Now his pelt had been returned to him, and he looked perfectly barbaric, like the first day Dream had seen him. 

“Mm, unfortunate. My brother is smart, he wouldn’t spare any detail in his protection, I suppose.” Dream muttered, before simply nodding. “Thank you, all. I’m sure you’ve had a tiring past few nights. Go to your tents and rest up, I’ll call upon you if I need to speak with you again sometime later in the week.” 

He didn’t really want to dismiss them, but it was obvious half of them had gotten drunk off their asses within the first five minutes of being at the party. Ichor was really the only one with any good information, and even then, it was extremely limited. Of course, Dream had to be grateful that Nightmare must’ve been slipping with controlling the tittering tongues of his servants, it saved him the trouble of having to wait any longer for information. 

Nightmare adding new, dangerous, knights was not ideal, 

He watched as the party slowly filtered out, some stumbling, some half-awake, and even Ichor yawning as he ducked out of the tent. The only one who didn’t immediately flee was Blue, who sat for a few minutes longer before popping to his feet, gathering the notes strewn across the table, and helping Dream to his feet. 

Together, they left the tent and moved back to the cottage. By now it was far into the night, and Dream could see the stars out. The moon, a thin crescent, seemed to mock him as he took careful steps in the darkness of the path.  At least he’d gotten to enjoy the remaining sun the day had gifted him. 

When they entered the cottage, Dream groaned and moved immediately for the couch. He could try to sleep, but he knew Blue still had to do his nightly routine, and he wouldn't be able to rest with the new information that had been provided. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Blue said unprompted from across the main room. 

His friend was organizing the papers from tonight into a nice little box where they kept all the notes for their plans, and when he placed it back on the shelf, he moved over to the dummy in the corner of the room where he always hung his armor. Every night. 

“I know we will, it’s just…” Ough, he couldn’t say it! This was so infuriating! Every scout who managed to come back only brought him worse and worse news. 

“Do you know, or are you just saying that? Because I know that I know we can figure this out! Two monsters can’t make the difference in a coup!” Blue stated matter-of-factly as he undid the buckles on his chest plate and lifted it up onto its rightful spot. Next followed the boots and Dream watched him. The prince was practically deflated on the cushions of the old couch, a pillow quickly tugged into this arms. 

He was right. Dream knew it, he usually was after all. Still. It wasn’t the fighting that worried him. No, he and Blue alone could probably beat up whatever petty criminals were cabhorting with his twin. It was just… 

“I do. I just- I- I don’t know how my twin could be so stupid!” He exclaimed, practically burying his skull into the pillow, bringing his knees up to his chest, practically curling into a ball. “He was meant to be my advisor, he was the clever one. How could he resort to killers and hired mercenaries. After all those classes he used to tell me about, all the lessons he had to go to, how could he decide to take this path?” He said, hoping his voice was muffled by the cushion.

Unfortunately, like most items in this cottage, it seemed to be cheap and only decorative. No muffling capabilities in sight. He heard Blue sigh, and for a few minutes, the only noise was Blue removing the rest of his armor. 

When it faded, he strained to listen, and caught the floorboards creaking ever so gently under the weight of his friend’s approach. Then there was a pause, and then a weight on Dream’s skull. It trailed heavily down his neck and to his shoulders, before repeating itself. A soothing motion, one that Dream resisted for a moment. 

“I never got to meet him, but I do know you! I think we can definitely knock some sense back into him.” Blue reassured him, and this time Dream listened. 

Blue was right, after all. Blue had been able to knock sense into Dream. If anyone could bring Nightmare back to his senses, it would be Blue. 

He let the skeleton keep doing that comforting motion against his skull for a few more minutes, savoring the contact, before he sighed heavily and shrugged. Blue retracted his hand, and was watching Dream with a soft smile when the prince finally lifted his head. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before Dream smiled back. 

They both really needed to get some rest. 

[dazais-guardian-angel]

also I honestly hate Dazai's sudden bullshit theory about Hawthorne's blood bullets to explain how Fyodor killed the soldier at the end of the cannibalism arc, and the fact that this somehow never even occurred to him until now. Normally I do love seeing Dazai be wrong and be shocked/taken off guard for once, it's way too rare and needs to happen a lot more for how goddamn OP he is the rest of the time, but in this case instead of making him feel human from making a natural mistake (forgetting about Q, pinning the wrong person as Fyodor during the helicopter search in cannibalism), it just makes him look incredibly dumb to somehow not have foreseen this before now. Up till this point he's been 5D chess masterminding the shit out of everything, but somehow it didn't even occur to him that Fyodor might not actually be dead for real....... and all it took to make him think that was Sigma viewing his memories? Back when the cannibalism incident happened, the panels seem to indicate that he might know more about Fyodor's ability than he's letting on, but now it's confirmed that he never really knew anything at all, so that part was meaningless I guess...

The Hawthorne theory is so ludicrously out there, but it's in-line with all the other insanely out there things Dazai has been right about before, so it's probably correct lmao; it's just, WHY did he not come up with it until now??? The answer is of course that he didn't realize it until the Plot needed him to, and it's so frustratingly evident. 🫠 As convoluted as this twist is, I honestly wouldn't mind it if it had come from Fyodor himself after he inevitably comes back to taunt Dazai and co — I actually think it doesn't contradict everything else we've seen, because imo there's a difference between the soldier grabbing Fyodor's arm (clear contact), and when Fyodor lightly held his finger over Karma's forehead and most likely used his real ability there, just like he said he did. I think it's neat to think that we were all misdirected by the "Fyodor's ability works through direct contact" thing just because Dazai is the one who first said it, since we're so used to Dazai being right. But I wish Dazai hadn't figured out the truth all on his own so suddenly, doing a complete 180 from like two chapters ago, cause it just makes him look stupid. It doesn't feel like a natural mistake, it just feels like the plot forcing him to be dumb until it needs him to be smart again, which is really noticeable for a character otherwise so insanely smart as Dazai.

[sskk-manifesto]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[emile-hides]

Upon rewatch of the Mario Movie, I really gotta wonder how long the Mario Bros were in the Mushroom Kingdom for. 

They get sucked through the pipe past sundown Brooklyn time, which depending on the season is like 8-9 o’clock, Mario arrives in the Mushroom Kingdom in the day time, maybe late afternoon, and spends the rest of the day through the night into the morning on Peach’s Mario Maker level, travels all the next day, sleeps in a Fire Flower field for the night, arrives at the Kong Kingdom mid the next day, leaves the Kong Kingdom on Karts around sunset, which turns to night as they are ambushed, leading to Mario and DK spending the entire night inside an eel only breaking out early the next morning, just to make it barely in time to Peach and Bowser’s wedding sometime around noon, and go back through the pipe to have it be early morning in Brooklyn with the rest of the Mario family carrying on with breakfast as usual.

So they spend 3 Days in the Mushroom Kingdom, but only like 12 hours of Brooklyn time seems to have passed.

[the-busy-ghost]

Me: Ah nice I'll just have a little nap and then get on with my reading

My brain, an hour and a half later: 'Now let's go back and talk further about George Kirrin...'

[scarletdreamers]

Can we, for a second, think about the fact that Hannibal dressed Will before he carried him home through the snow?

Will is naked when he's about to get the face surgery from Cordell. We see a scene of him in the operation chair where he's shirtless, lower body covered by a hospital blanket. Hannibal, who cut himself free from the ropes that were holding him captive on Muskrat farm, who then killed a large sum of Mason's staff including trained security and surgeons, saves him before Will's face gets removed. This all happens off-screen. The next scene is Hannibal carrying Will (bridal style) through the snow. In this scene Will is dressed, including a jacket for the cold and all that. Imagine Hannibal, the violent beast we saw when he killed Mason's men, blood probably still on his hands, finding Will there. Unconscious, and then dressing him. Dressing someone is a very intimate thing, especially someone unconscious. It requires care and gentleness. That, and knowing how to handle a body and loving someone enough to dress them while they don't need to be. He buttoned his buttons for him, tied his shoes, put him in a jacket to make sure he wouldn't get cold - I mean, Hannibal himself doesn't even wear a jacket in that scene. There's blood and wounds all over Hannibal's face, he's exhausted and probably the one in the most physical danger, yet he takes care of Will before he takes care of himself.

This hits even harder if you think about why they ended up in Muskrat farm in the first place. In Florence, Hannibal tried to 'eat' Will. He tried to split his head open with a bone saw. That intense violence, the grotesque and desperate nature of those actions makes a perfect and sharp contrast to him saving Will after outside forces try to take their lives, which is a heroically gentle and intimate action. He didn't have to dress him up like that, he didn't have to carry him that way, but he did. Hannibal fails to kill Will in Florence, and with that he fails his last attempt to get rid of his feelings for Will. Or at least, to make his feelings bearable. He thinks that he can control himself better when Will is dead, so he tries to kill him but he fails. Not because he's stopped, but simply because he can't do it. If Hannibal wanted him dead, Will would have been dead. Mason's men only interrupted his theatrics. They gave him a reason to put away the saw and act like it was purely their fault, but then Will is in danger at the farm and Hannibal does everything in his power to save him and get him home safe and well. At home he takes off his jacket, literally lays him in bed and tucks him in. He covers Will with a blanket, he tries to write mathematical formulas to reverse time and cleans his wounds. That's why Will's rejection when he wakes up is so tragic and hard to watch. It breaks Hannibal, unbreakable and inhuman Hannibal Lecter. It simply hurts him enough to break his heart. It breaks him enough to give up everything he ever lived for and surrender to the FBI, which he spent a lifetime running from. He does this because when he decided to save Will, he realised he would never get over the things he felt for him. In Hannibal's mind, the worst thing that can happen is never seeing Will again. He finally realised that, after everything, and that's why he surrenders to the FBI.

Hannibal honey, you don't want to eat his brain. You just wanted him to love you.

It's subtle details like this that always stick to me afterwards. It's just another thought I had and I felt like sharing.

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[endearng]

Third time's the charm

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: During one of your movie nights with Spencer, you decide to, once again, take the lead. Or, you got cockblocked so often that you almost thought it wouldn't happen. WC: 3.1k Warnings: smut (nipple play and dry humping); reader thinks spencer might be asexual but he's just a shy puppy; they are desperate for each other; "ruined" movie night; virgin!Spencer my beloved. (I guess that's it. If I forgot something, please let me know!) A/N: Aaaand here it is! I didn't think I'd write smut so soon, hehe. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it - it's actually a sequel to Dearest friend, but can be read as a stand-alone. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 Masterlist

"It’s nice we finally have some time for each other," you hummed in agreement. "Thanks for coming over," Spencer said.

"You don't have to thank me," you said, sitting down on his couch after placing the drinks you chose from his fridge on the coffee table. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you confessed. It got him blushing.

Spencer started one of your movies. It was your choice: you usually took turns picking out a movie to watch together whenever you had the chance, since neither of you were keen of going out that often and you didn't have much time outside of work. It was a fun opportunity to know more of each other through your personal taste, since he often chose foreign films about humanities and you, well, you made him watch Easy A, which got him talking about Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter.

After the movies, you would talk to each other about it, maybe mentioning a personal experience that you remembered thanks to a particular scene or a character's arch. Maybe you would kiss.

Which was a problem. Well, not a problem, but, you see, you didn't have much time together other than going to each other's houses and out on a few dates, which were your favorite: Spencer often found the most beautiful, cozy places to take you, like coffee shops, museums, bookshops and libraries, followed by a nice dinner at a local restaurant. It was during one of those dates that something gave him the nerve to touch your hand. Holding hands quickly escalated to having his hands around you at all times possible, and it got to the point where you nearly had to peel off of him when he got too comfortable and you sadly had to leave to do something. These moments of physical touch were making you go insane, thinking about making a bolder move on him, but you thought that maybe he wasn't ready. Plus the fact that you seemed to be interrupted whenever things got too heated.

If you had a nickel for everytime you and Spencer had to stop right before you got intimate (in any way, really), you'd have two nickels, which isn't much, but it's weird that it happened twice. It was like the universe (more like Hotch and the gore that surrounded the team) were set on a mission for you to never have sex again. Besides that, more extreme thoughts plagued your mind and told you that maybe he wasn’t attracted to you like that. It often made you go home feeling a little bit insecure.

You knew that it was better to assume, but you were only human. After some pep talk with yourself on the way to his place, you convinced yourself that you would have to have this conversation with him, sooner or later. You thought so hard about this that you even came up with the possibility that he was asexual — you were fine with it if he was, obviously, because being with him made you feel whole. Still, you wanted, you needed to get this off your chest before you exploded with assumptions and unrequited feelings. Unrequited desire.

You decided to try to be subtle. Scratching the back of his head with your nails lovingly, you both watched the movie. "What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you. You could see the goosebumps on his arm, that must have been the trigger for the question coming out of his lips. You gave him a soft smile.

"It's called affection, pretty boy," you kissed the tip of his nose. "And I don't intend on stopping anytime soon."

You kissed his left cheek when he turned to look at the TV screen.

Then, you turned his head gently to kiss the right one. He glanced between your eyes and your lips, so of fucking course you were about to kiss him, but you decided to tease him a little and pecked the tip of his nose and gently kissed his forehead instead. He breathed out a laugh. Ticklish. It made you wonder where else he would be sensitive.

Stop, you slut of a brain.

When you were about to kiss his lips, you withdrew your face from his, smooching his cheek instead. He sighed, oblivious to your real intentions, impatient and utterly, stupidly in love with you.

Oops. There goes your heart. Out the window. Taking your judgment with it.

"Spence?"

"Yes?"

"Can I do something?"

"Yes," he answered. "You know can do anything, baby."

"This is a very dangerous thing to say to a girl who has the feelings I have for you," you said, grinning. His expression morphed into one that almost looked like sheer panick.

You slowly moved to straddle his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you if he wanted to, his legs trapped between yours. You sat yourself on the top of his thighs. He watched every movement feeling like the world stopped and there were the both of you, moving in slow motion, movie long forgotten behind you. His breath hitched when he came to his senses and noticed the position you were in, now that you've done what you had. "Is this okay? It's more comfortable than kissing you like… well, that," you laughed softly.

"Yes. I-It's perfect," he breathed out, hands finding your waist.

You lips finally met his in a kiss that had both of you sighing. You found out that Spencer was a really good kisser — and you were proud to be the one with whom he practiced kissing to perfection —, your lips easily falling into a passionate rhythm. Gasping for air, you pecked him on those perfect lips that were red and puffy from all the assaulting you were doing, but he quickly pulled you in for another, this time, sloppier than ever, encouraged by your own boldness. He was french kissing you. Fairly used to it, but not with the intensity of it, you groaned in welcomed surprise, hands finding the nape of his neck and getting a grip on them, not so gently as you normally did. You pulled his hair down, breaking the kiss, lips tingling and lungs screaming for air. He smirked, feeling smug at the state he left you in.

You rose slightly from his lap, still holding his head and looking straight into his eyes. By holding yourself slightly above him, the pendant of your necklace grazed his chin, like he had imagined many times after watching you fiddle with it. God, it was finally coming true, having you in his arms and intending to let you do whatever you wanted to him and him only, the way that it should be ever since the day you met. You nearly made him go insane, pulling you closer to his body than you ever were, acting like a desperate madman. You smiled down at him and kissed him again, more feverishly than before, trying to tell him through that kiss that you were his. Biting his lower lip and earning a fucking moan, you sat yourself down on him again. You felt his bulge against your clothed core and the light contact made you feel lightheaded.

You were so caught up on him that it almost made you forget you needed to talk to him first. Unfortunately, as you tried to catch your breath and to find the right words to speak, Spencer felt his insecurities creeping up on him. Despite knowing it would be best to talk to you, he felt like voicing it out loud would push you away from him — which he didn't want. He was very comfortable with the indecent small distance between your bodies.

He was fidgety. You knew you needed to address this because your boyfriend wasn't the best at voicing his needs — you remember and giggled internally at how you had been the one to knock on Spencer's door asking him to put an end to your suffering by telling him how you felt. Heh. Kudos to you.

"I wanted to talk about this with you," you murmured, now feeling his kisses peppering the skin of your neck. You knew how much he was hiding from you because he wouldn't stop moving and it was very distracting, but if you didn't speak, it would be the end of you. "I'd ask if you were okay with me and you like this, about taking further steps, shit." You moaned when he fucking bit you and kissed you right after.

He pulled away from you, hands flying up to the back of your head. Foreheads touching, eyes locked in yours. "I want it. I want you, I mean. Been wanting you for some time now—a very long time, yes." He strongly shut his eyes closed, most likely working up the courage to say something. "But I don't want to... disappoint you," he finished, sounding insecure.

Not on your watch.

"Me too, Spence. God, I want you so bad," you answered, unable to look away from him, who now looked down, paying close attention to the rising and falling of your chest. "Hey, look at me, please," you pleaded. His eyes met yours. Oh, those maddening eyes... "Believe me when I tell you, baby, I want you. And if you don't want to do anything, you don't have to. I won't push you, of course. I just wanted to have a conversation with you before, because setting boundaries is important and consent is hot—" he laughed quietly. Making jokes was your go-to way of making situations lighter and he was glad for it then. You smiled when you noticed the sound he made. "And I'm also positively certain that you wouldn't like to have our first time on your couch."

"My first time," he revealed. softly. Eyes not meeting yours.

Oh.

You didn’t falter. "It doesn't change much, baby. I still stand for what I just told you," you assured him, "I want you to enjoy yourself, Spence."

Looking back into your eyes, he declared, "And I want you."

"You can have me," you answered, "You already have."

"You'd need to guide me. You know, hands-on activity. Because I’ve never done it before…" he trailed off.

"Lucky for you, I'm great at teaching."

His grip finds your waist, lips anxiously waiting for yours — and when they touched to mold perfectly in another breathtaking kiss, he felt complete. Like nothing bad could ever happen in the world just because you were in it. His past, his insecurities, the awful things you both saw on the field, nothing mattered. Looking at you, touching you, was a nearly an out of body experience. The things you got him thinking by just kissing him. And he thought his insecurities would get the best of him. Jokes on them, you exist.

You look at him through hooded eyes. "I've never felt like this before. I feel... tingly," he confessed, lovely smile on his face, eyes blinking.

"You're feeling good, handsome," you answered, glancing at his dazed eyes.

A beat of silence. Swallowing second thoughts. "Can you make it better?"

"Is that a request or a challenge?" You asked, grinning.

"A request." He answered shyly, hiding his face on your neck, peppering kisses on your skin. You were going to explode.

"Oh, don't talk to me like that," you shivered, feeling absolutely lost, "I might spoil you and give you everything you want," you sighed.

"Let me have it, then," he answered, voice muffled by your skin.

"I'm all yours, Spencer."

He had the audacity of blushing as his fingers played with the hem of your shirt. You smiled at him. In this state, if he asked for you to run naked around town, you probably would. It was dangerous, to say the least. Softly, yet desperate, the words left his lips. "Can I take this off?" He sucked in a breath. "Please?"

"Yes, pretty boy, you can," you answered. "You can have anything. I thought I already said that."

"Yes—You did. You did," he breathed out between needy kisses across your skin, getting rid of your shirt in no time.

At first, he was mesmerized by the sight in front of him. He hadn't seen many naked (or semi-naked) women in front of him, but you were something out of this world. The bra you were wearing matched your skin tone and pushed your breasts together and there was the fucking necklace, almost mocking him by being constantly so close, too close to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. The view was almost overwhelming by itself. You looked at him, but he couldn't possibly come up with the words that would describe you in that moment. Words had failed him, nothing else in his mind but you. The tool he used to communicate, to access the world and how it shaped reality, to comprehend the mind of another person, to get to know others... He had nothing left. Except from the pulsing of his boner against your clothed pussy, that is.

Just like that, IQ of 187 slashed to 60, Emily Prentiss said, once. Funnily enough, when you passed by wearing a sundress.

Unable to talk but, oh, so able to use his hands, they traveled up to your breasts with a featherlight touch, which didn't stop him from feeling your heartbeat. He let his hands trail over the soft and sheer fabric of the bra you were wearing. Finding your nipples, his touch got more intense. He licked his lips. His actions made you shudder and sent a spark of excitement to your sex. "Pretty," he said. "So, so pretty, my girl."

"Do you like it?" You asked, breathless from a little touching. Pathetic. "I got these thinking of you. Wanna look pretty for you, Spence."

"You are," he said, looking into your eyes, his own foggy, hands reaching to touch your neck. "You're pretty all the time, it's so unfair to me," he murmured. "I really like them on you, but… can I take ‘em off?"

"Yes. You can do anything, Spence."

Spencer wanted to burn the sight of you, in that slightly disheveled state, in the back of his mind so he could remember it forever — not that he would have a hard time trying to remember anything. Nevertheless, he did everything so slowly, almost as if trying to tattoo on the tip of his fingers the softness and temperature of your skin. He inhaled deeply, consumed by your floral-scented perfume and lifted his hands to unclasp your bra. His fingers curiously, but unhurriedly, lowered each of the straps. Like opening a gift that had been so carefully wrapped he didn't want to ruin.

But did he wanted to be ruined by you.

The sight of your bare chest was marvelous, to say the least, and he timidly grazed his fingertips against the exposed area, eliciting goosebumps and a soft whine. His mouth watered, thoughts simply reduced to the need of having you in his mouth. The striped pattern on the soft skin of your breasts around your nipples were faint, barely there, unless if you took a close look at it. It goes without saying that he was blatantly gazing at your bosom at this point.

Pupils dilated, he looked up at you, hungrily, drawing his face closer to you, curls tickling the skin of your collarbone. He inhaled your scent, mind blanking. Tortuously dragging his lips on your skin (and unintentionally smearing some of his saliva on you, he was drooling, after all) as a silent request, the necklace brushing his forehead slightly. The grind of your hips against his answered his plead to taste you.

"Oh—you're so, so good to me, princess," you moaned when he finally wrapped his lips against the nub, playing with the other.

You felt almost overwhelmed with the attention you were getting and the reaction you were having to said attention. Your underwear was sticking almost uncomfortably against your core and you felt yourself aching for some relief, aching for him. So, as Spencer worked his hot tongue on your tits, licking, softly biting, sucking, making a mess on and of you, you busied yourself by chasing the relief you both desperately wanted. The solace it provided you both with was exhilarating and made you feel dazed.

Steadily rocking yourself against him, you earned a few grunts. "You're making a mess of me, pretty boy," you murmured as he switched his attention to the other boob.

"Give it t'me—I want it, I deserve it," he breathed out, body aching with lust, cock pulsing against your covered clit. His words only fueled the fire inside you, the coil in your lower stomach threatening to snap at anytime now.

"Yeah, you do, my boy," you breathed out, pulling the hair on the nape of his neck, nearly tasting your orgasm, "gonna look so pretty when you come for me, won't you, baby?" Both hands gripping your hips, mouth never leaving your skin. You sure would be bruised by tomorrow, but this, this was definitely worth it.

"Yes—Yes, I will," He whined. He fucking whined.

"Tell, me—ah—where do you want to cum, baby?"

"Shit—" until then, you were sure that was a word you'd never hear him saying, let alone that freely. "Gonna—Shitshitshit," moaning out your name.

That's when it hit you that he had cummed his pants. It was such a fat load that it had seeped through both his underwear and his slacks — which prompted you to reach your own high with a moan of his name directly into his ear.

Both of you feeling dizzy, you slump against him, feeling his arms wrapping your frame as you rested your head on his shoulder. You both took deep breaths, the only sound in the room. Well, besides the movie you both totally ignored.

"I can't get up right now... My legs feel wobbly," you chuckled. "Are you okay, Spence?" You asked, looking at him when you didn't get an answer.

"Yeah, 'm fine," he answered, "I mean, I'll be fine as soon as I recover from you."

You laughed sincerely, "From me? What have I done to you?"

"You gave me what I wanted, you spoiled me, you broke me," he said, a silly smile adorning his pretty face. You pushed him playfully. "I can't even explain what I'm feeling right now. My brain has stopped working ever since you straddled me. Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, babe."

"Wrong answer. You're so gonna keep doing that to me, so you'll definitely be trying to killing me from now on." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

[ellecdc]

I’ve been thinking about a Remus (or ig any ship that includes him?) x metamorphmagus!reader who is always turning into other people in order to mess with people. despite them being very good at acting and visually/audibly indistinguishable from their target, once the moon comes close and his senses are heightened Remus is able to recognize them from scent alone. I also think he’s observant enough that even when his senses are as normal as they can be, he is able to notice little ticks and habits that break through the disguise. I don’t think he would ruin their fun, observing and if he isn’t in pain even helping with their mischief.

It’s just such a cute little concept to me, and I think it could be fun to play with, so I would love to see if you can come up with a little Drabble or something about it! Thank you mother ❤️ I love confident and mischievous readers with quiet but enabling characters

this was a cute concept! thanks for the request! also, I didn't intend for this to be Potter!reader, but with the way the story went it ended up feeling like it had to be potter reader hahaha

Remus Lupin x Potter!reader who is a metamorphmagus [800 words]

CW: fem!reader, 'your mama' insults, talking about students getting it on in a broom closet

“Never thought I’d find myself happier to see this Black than the other one.” Barty Crouch Junior drawled as he sauntered into the library looking innocent for all intents and purposes - but Remus knew better.

“Sod off, Junior.” Sirius sneered back as he glared at the Slytherin from behind his book. 

“Oh, someone’s getting off, I can assure you.” He jeered; a mischievous sparkle shining in his eye giving Remus not nearly enough time to prepare for the coming theatrics. 

“Oh? Could you hear me and your mum last night?” Sirius replied haughtily, turning a page of his book for show. “I’ll try to make sure we’re quieter next time, but she’s a screamer.” 

Barty simply hummed as he dragged a finger across the back of a chair; expression glowing like he was simply loving this. “Are family members not off limits then, Black? Because if that’s the case, someone really ought to tell Reg and Potter that there's no need to be rutting against each other in the third floor broom closet like a couple of ne’er-do-wells.”

Sirius was standing in record time; his chair grating across the floors before landing with a thunk and his book (prop) laying long forgotten.

“You’re not serious.” Sirius spat menacingly, a true testament to how riled up he got over his brother and best friend (even though the two had been publicly dating for almost two months now) that he didn’t even bother censoring himself against the verb form of his name.

“Deadly.” Barty smirked, and that was all it took for Sirius to go racing off into the castle to cause a bigger scene than either Regulus or James had been prior to the announcement of their secret tryst. 

The library returned to its prior volume as Remus watched 'Barty' simply stare after the last place Sirius could be seen. 

“That’s not nice, dove.” Remus chided gently, though he didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he stared back down at his book.

“Whatever do you mean, Lupin?” You sneered back, but you were wearing a beaming smile that told him clearly you knew the ruse was up. 

“James has been trying very hard to make sure he isn’t throwing his relationship with Regulus in Sirius’ face.” Remus explained tiredly, though it was all for show. 

“And James has been making it very hard for me to not want to stab myself with a quill during quidditch practices.” You pouted as you took the seat across from him.

“All this over quidditch drills?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You didn’t break his gaze nor the pout of your lips as you added “and he ate the last of my fizzing whizzbees.” 

Remus hummed in understanding. “An egregious crime, certainly.”

“Right? What would you have done if he’d eaten all your chocolate?”

“Nothing short of murder; he’d be out the dormitory window.”

“See, I knew you’d get it.” You replied with a smirk, though your eyes turned soft as you looked him over.

“Be nice to your brother.” He murmured quietly, earning a dramatic groan as you threw your head back in exasperation.

“I don’t have to be nice to him, he’s my brother.” 

“What would your mum say?” He asked as he leaned back in his chair and held his book against his lips to hide the smile on his face.

You groaned again and looked over at him nonplussed. “To be nice to my brother.” You offered back in monotone.

He lowered his book so you could see his beaming smile, causing you to launch forward in an attempt to swipe his book from him only for him to catch your wrist instead.

“How did you even know it was me? I thought I had the impression down pat.” You murmured quietly, face now inches from his.

“You certainly look like Junior.” Remus conceded as he gave you a once over. “But he would have never let that comment about his mum fly.”

You let out a bark of laughter that Remus knew to be only yours. “That’s true, I suppose. I’ll do better next time.”

Remus gave you a shake of his head in faux admonishment as he leaned closer to you. “I’ll always recognise my sweet girl.” He murmured, massaging the inside of your wrist that he was holding captive with his thumb. “I’d recognise you by smell alone.” 

Your gaze turned hungry as your eyes flit down to his lips and then back up again. 

But Remus pulled away before you could connect your lips to his.

“Do not kiss me as Barty Crouch Junior.” He deadpanned, causing you to let out raucous laughter that got you more than a few shush’s from surrounding tables before he watched you melt back into yourself.

Remus loved your mischief, but this was by far his favourite version of you.

[j-psilas]

Will we ever get anything quite like Code Geass again?

I don't think it's possible.

Code Geass is Japanese nationalist propaganda disguised as a global political drama, disguised as a military mecha show, disguised as yaoibait, disguised as a teen melodrama, disguised as a high school romcom, disguised as a Pizza Hut commercial...

...except those layers aren't layers at all, but are instead comingled in a giant snake ball of insanity.

The lead writer, Ichirō Ōkouchi, only ever worked as an episode writer for other shows prior to Code Geass, and never took the helm of an anime series ever again. And it shows. [EDIT: Several people have pointed out his other lead writing credits to me. So I misread Wikipedia—sue me. I maintain that this guy is a better episode writer than he is a lead writer.]

The minute-to-minute pacing is impeccable from a mechanical standpoint, with tension and stakes rising to ever-higher peaks, balanced out by the slow simmers of the b-plot and c-plot. It keeps the viewer on the edge of their seat at all times. Meanwhile, the large-scale plot is the most off-the-wall middle school nonsense I've ever seen, continually surprising the viewer by pulling twists too dumb to have ever have been on their radar—and therefore more effective in terms of raw shock value.

"Greenlight it!" was the mantra of this anime's production. It must have been. It has, in no particular order, all of the following:

Character designs from CLAMP, the foremost yaoi/BL group in Japan at the time—for characters who are only queer insofar as they can bait the audience, and only straight insofar as they can be more misogynist to the female cast.

Speaking of the female cast, hoo boy the fanservice. We've all seen anime girls breast boobily, with many cases more egregious than Code Geass, but there's something special about it happening immediately after—or sometimes in the middle of!—scenes of military conflict and ethnic cleansing.

Pizza Hut product placement everywhere, in every conceivable situation. High-speed chases, light slice-of-life scenes, intimate character moments, all of it. Gotta have Pizza Hut.

The anime-only Pizza Hut mascot, Cheese-kun. He wears a fedora.

The most hilarious approximations of European names—which I would love to see more often, frankly. Names like, I dunno, "Count Schnitzelgrübe zi Blanquezzio."

A depiction of China that is wholly removed from any modern reality, with red-and-gold pagodas, ornamental robes, scheming eunuchs, and a brainwashed child empress. There's a character named General Tsao, like the chicken.

Inappropriate free-form jazz in the soundtrack, intruding at the most unexpected times.

A secret cabal not unlike the Illuminati, run by an immortal shota with magic powers, holding influence all across the world, at the highest levels of government. They matter for approximately three episodes.

An unexpected insert scene of a schoolgirl using the corner of a table to masturbate. She's doing it to thoughts of her crush, the princess Euphemia—because she believes Euphemia to be as racist as she herself is, and that gets her off. This interrupts an unrelated scene of our protagonist faction planning their next move, which then resumes as if uninterrupted.

Said schoolgirl, in a fit of hysteria, threatens to detonate a worse-than-nuclear bomb in the middle of her school. She then goes on to develop an even more destructive version of that bomb, and become a war criminal, in a chain of cause-and-effect stemming from the moment she finds out that Euphemia wasn't actually that racist.

A character called "the Earl of Pudding."

A premise that asks us to believe that the name Lelouch is normal enough that he didn't need to change it when he went into hiding as an ordinary civilian. "No, that's not Prince Strimbleford von Vanquish! That's our classmate, Strimbleford Smith."

The collective unconscious, a la Carl Jung, within which the protagonist fights his villainous father for control over the fate of humankind. After this is over, the anime just keeps going for about ten more episodes.

An episode in which a mech tosses a giant pizza.

A gay yandere sleeper agent who can manipulate the perception of time.

Chess being played very badly, even to the untrained eye. Lelouch frequently checkmates his opponent by moving his king. This goes hand-in-hand with the anime's crock of bad chess symbolism.

A fictional drug that can most succinctly be described as "nostalgia heroin."

Roller-skating mecha in knightly armor, and some of the most sickass mecha fight choreography that I've seen.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. This anime is what the average Westerner in 2006 thought anime was, and it was made in a confluence of factors that cannot be replicated. I've never had so much fun watching something that I found so... insulting. Repugnant. Ridiculous. Baffling. I love it sincerely.

Catch me cosplaying Lloyd Asplund at a con sometime, or maybe even the big gay loser himself, Lelouch vi Britannia.