#i have no idea what details of nemesis are on the right side

[artistsu]

Want to know a secret?

I flip my art and don't keep track of which side is which 🤷🏼‍♀️

[munsonsreputation]

Ty for tagging me in your recent post <3 ofc I’m gonna request an angsty fic for either Stevie or Eddie whichever you feel like! Kinda cliche ik but reader gives an angsty confession after being hurt and pushed aside by them which leaves Eddie/Steve confused and in the end they realise they do like reader and they get together. This is just a general outline so by all means include whatever other detail you want. <3

hey xio!! thank you so much for your request!!!

I piggybacked off your idea and I hope you like the spin I put on it. Kinda idiot!eddie, but when is he ever not? LOL jk (kinda) anyways, I hope you like this and thank you again for this sweet request 💌💫

Two weeks. 

It had been two whole long and lonely weeks since you and Eddie had gotten to properly hangout with each other like you’d usually do. 

He’d say he was busy with all sorts of things…things that would be understandable then some, not quite. 

Hellfire? Yes. 

Corroded Coffin. Sure. 

Helping Wanye fix his truck? Maybe…but he hated getting oil all over him. 

Dropping the kids off after Hellfire? He hated giving rides to the kids after 11pm because they got antsy. 

Going to Lucas’ basketball game? Hell no. That’s when you knew something was up. 

Eddie loved his friends, would do anything to support them the best he could, but you knew Eddie and how much he hated the whole balls and laundry basket game. Not to mention his moral nemesis, Jason Carver, who was on the team. He’d rather die than to show up to one of those preppy events. 

Now you knew Eddie was avoiding you, pushing you aside, but you just didn’t know why. You retraced your steps, trying to remember if you said something or did anything wrong that would make him completely shut you out like this, but you really didn’t do anything. 

Anything except have a big fat crush on him throughout your entire friendship, which led you to believe he must have found out or worse, not wanting to have anything to do with you anymore because he had found out.

You had to get down to the bottom of this. 

“Give me a second!” Wayne’s voice hollered from the other side of the door where you practically banged, totally forgetting that his truck was in the driveway since his shift at the plant wasn’t for a few more hours. 

Your foot tapped anxiously on the creaky wood, waiting and waiting until finally the door opened up. 

“Oh hey, kid, looking for Eddie? He’s in his room.” Wayne greeted warmly, pushing the screen door open to let you through as you tried not to tense up from the anxiety, offering him a half-hearted smile as you walked in. 

“Thanks, Wayne.” 

He grunted, shutting the door and turning to you once more, “Haven’t seen you come around in a while. Did something happen between you two?” 

You took a deep breath, looking down the hall where you could hear Eddie’s faint guitar playing, “That’s what I’m hoping to figure out.” 

Wayne’s face fell, obvious shock and confusing plastering over his features, before nodding slowly, granting you to walk away from him and towards Eddie’s room. 

Part of you wanted to burst through his door and demand an explanation, but just because you were hurt didn’t mean you would lose your manners. So you knocked, then knocked a little harder after that since he couldn’t hear the first rounds of sounds. 

“Come in!” He shouted, not letting up on the strumming until you finally cleared your throat, letting him know it was you. 

He scrambled, quickly putting his guitar aside and standing up, “H-hey, what’re you doing here?” His palm rubbed the back of his neck nervously, then quickly came to wrap around his torso as he realized he was shirtless. 

“You told me you were going to Lucas’ game.” You cut the small talk, diving right into the lie he had told you hours ago when you asked him if he wanted to pick up a movie for tonight. 

“I—I totally forgot! I must be late, then. What do you think I should wear to the—“ 

He was panicking, trying to cover his ass as he rushed around his room, sorting through the piles of clothes on the floor, acting as if he was really going to the game, because by now the game would be in the third quarter, a total waste of going now. 

“Bullshit, Eddie. Why’re you doing this?” You crossed your arms across your chest in what was supposed to be a demanding stance, but that couldn’t cover the hurt all over your face. 

Your cheeks were red and your eyes filled with betrayal, something Eddie hated to see. 

“I just…I’ve been busy and I don’t really feel like hanging out with anyone so…yeah.” 

Oh god, Eddie had finally gotten sick of you. How could he sit here and lie to your face again, when you had seen him hanging out with the boys after school, laughing and having fun, just like how he used to with you? 

Your arms fell to your sides, throat bobbing as you swallowed thickly, slowly backing out of the room as he just watched you blankly.

“Jesus, Eddie, why do you have to keep lying to me?” You shook your head disappointingly. 

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, just tell me, alright. You don’t have to keep making these dumb excuses as to why you don’t want to spend time with me. It hurt’s y’know….being lied to by the one person who I care about and the one person who I thought cared about me. B-but I guess I was wrong and stupid to ever think that you and I could work out the way that I thought we would.” 

Your voice was breaking, backing away quicker as he tried to reach out for you, getting closer to try to hug you and make it seem like everything was ok. 

Attempting to get away before you could make the situation worse, you turned around, smack right into Wayne, who was listening at the end of the hallway. He steadied you swiftly, as you quietly said “thanks” before rushing out the front door and into your car. 

Wayne didn’t let Eddie chase after you, instead he held his arm out, pushing Eddie back before he had the chance to get out of the front door and stop you from driving away. 

“You’re an idiot, son.” 

The teen huffed defeatedly, brushing past his uncle, as it was too late to catch up to you by now. So he settled on the couch, elbows on his knees as he buried his face in his hands, cursing to himself. 

His uncle watched on, crossing his arms against his chest, before clapping his hands together to gain the boys’ attention. 

“What’s the matter with you? She’s a sweet girl, and she’s always around and you just go pushing her aside like she doesn’t mean anything.”

Wayne should’ve noticed your absence from their residence to be quite odd, considering the fact that you were always here when Eddie was. But after asking his nephew the first time you didn’t show up with him after school, and his excuse was that you were sick, he just thought you were slowly getting better. 

A lie, obviously. 

“I don’t know, alright! I don’t want her to feel like she has to be here with me all the time.” Eddie explained, rubbing his temples with his eyes sealed shut. 

“God, this boy is stupid.” Wayne thought to himself, briskly approaching the teen and settling right in front of him with his arm reaching out to rest on his shoulder. 

Eddie opened his eyes, looking up at his only father figure, waiting for anything. 

“Did you ever stop and think that she wants to be here?”

You were always more than happy to tag along wherever Eddie went, and that didn’t change when it came to the trailer he called his home. In fact, you strolled right in and made yourself at home every time, yet Eddie always felt weird. Not about you. Never about you. Just the fact that you were so….willing. No one was ever willing with him and so he thought you were doing out of pity…that’s why he pushed you away. 

“Fuck,” Eddie muttered, finally realizing what he did wrong.

Wayne hummed, nodding his head and giving his nephew’s shoulder a squeeze. 

“You think some girl is just going to hang here for no reason? I think you know where I’m getting at?” 

Eddie furrowed his brows, “Wait, what?” 

“Oh, Jesus!” Wayne groaned, waving Eddie away, “Go put something on and go apologize to her. Hopefully, you two figure this out.” 

And so Eddie did just that, throwing on a random band tee and hopping into his van as he sped through the street of Hawkins until his beat up thing pulled up in front of your house. 

You had gotten home only fifteen minutes ago, ignoring the calls from your family telling you dinner was ready and instead heading straight to your room where you began to cry. You couldn’t even bear to sit up and look at the polaroids of you and Eddie hanging on your bulletin board, so you laid down. Staring at your ceiling as the tears sailed passed the precipice of your eyes and down your cheeks into your sheets. 

Three knocks sounded on your door as you sniffled, turning towards it, “Mom! I said I’m not hungry…go away!”

The doorknob began to turn and you were almost ready to start another string of irritated words until the tall mop of hair revealed himself before you. 

“W-what are you doing here?” 

You sat up, wiping the tears quickly as you attempted to not look like he left you like this. 

He shut the door quietly, “Your mom let me in…I hope that’s fine.” 

Your shoulders shrug, not offering him anymore words because you didn’t know if you could. 

That’s when he sat right beside you, turning so he was facing you, “I’m really sorry for lying to you for the past couple of days…I care about you so much and I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t.” 

His knee shock violently as he fiddled with his fingers, “I just….I’m not used to this. Used to people having fun with me or making an effort to hang out with me, y’know? It’s weird. Not you. But just, the fact that you do it for me.” 

“Eddie,” you whispered, shaking your head. You reached to squeeze his jean covered knee, stopping his movement, “I want to spend time with you. Why do you think I’m always around?” 

He smiled tightly at you, shrugging his shoulders lightly, “I dunno…maybe because you feel bad for me?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Eds. I hang out with you because I like—“ Your eyes widened, catching yourself and stuttering over your words, “I like how cool you are! Yeah! You’re so cool!” 

Your hand retracted from his knee, slapping down into your lap as you smiled wildly at him, trying to convince him of your lie. 

“W-wait…you like? Were you just about to say you like me?” 

You were blushing, biting the inside of your cheek as you wanted to dig a hole in the floor and bury yourself in there just so you didn’t have to face the embarrassment of going through this right in front of Eddie. 

“T-totally, n-not.” You tripped over your words, another horrible way of lying on your part. 

Eddie just smiled, his fingers reaching for your hands and tangling them together. An action that wasn’t entirely new to you as you two would hold hands on scary roller coasters or when a thriller movie was on. But not like this. 

“That’s a shame because I like you. I…I’m bad at feelings, so at first I thought you were just around because you pitied me, but now I know.” He spoke smoothly, running his thumb across your knuckles. 

He could feel your pulse in your fingertips beating fast. “I like when you’re around. I like being near you and the last couple of days have been boring without you. I should’ve known the second I started missing you that I messed up, but like Wayne said, I’m an idiot and I suck at feelings. I suck at everything.” 

Eddie sighed heavily, the self realization hitting him like a bunch of bricks. The only thing pulling him away from his thoughts was your hand squeezing his. “That isn’t true. You’re great at guitar. And DnD. Plus you’re a really good driver…most times, but sometime you speed and forget to put on your seat belt.” 

“That was one time!” He argued back with an open mouth as you giggled, raising your brow at him, “More like three times.” 

The two of you just laughed, forgetting the stupid fight for a split second. 

You pushed at his shoulder with your free hand, smiling down at the hand still intertwined. “I like you, you idiot.” 

“And apology accepted…just don’t push me away like that again, please?” Your eyes trialed up to meet his where he nodded. 

His face came closer to yours, and you mirrored his actions. Just centimeters apart before he whispered, “I promise,” 

Fireworks started as your lips finally met each other for the first time. Moving in sync effortlessly like you didn’t even have to try to impress him because it was perfect, just like this. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled softly once you pulled away, causing Eddie to hum, until you opened your eyes again. 

“I’m so going to kill you if you ever deprive me of this again.” 

He smirked, kissing you again, and this time, making sure to remind himself to thank Uncle Wayne tomorrow…though he wasn’t looking forward to the “I told you so,” 

But you made it worth it. 

[aerkame]

Hello! I’d like to send in a request, I’m not picky about format so you can do headcannons, a one shot, etc. ^^

Takes place during Transformers Prime Season 2, Episodes 1-2.

Orion Pax coming across Optimus’ human charge on the Nemesis (said GN!human charge is a mercenary who needs energon to survive because they’re kinda part Predacon due to MECH fucking around with a funny looking fossil they found; this’ll be relevant in a bit. They were with Arcee when she got into the ship, they jumped off her and hid in the little side crevice under the main walkway [something like what Bulkhead is crawling through in S2 Ep10: Armada 11:57] when Soundwave opened a ground bridge) They kinda have to beg him not to report them to Megatron, and he agrees (albeit very reluctantly).

They hide behind/under his workspace and he brings them energon so they don’t die✨ (apparently he’s gone for a long while [a few weeks to a month] and not like, a few days like I originally thought-)

They converse, having nothing better to do to pass the time, and Orion has a strong and fond sense of familiarity lingering in the back of his mind.

Little does he know he was developing strong feelings for them, back then as Optimus and now once more as Orion.

(I’m so sorry about how long it is but I felt like it would make sense if I didn’t explain-)

If this seems like too much please feel free to delete my request ^^”

Sorry for the late post!

Also it's alright, It is a long explanation, but good for the headcanons so I know what I'm working with. I'll try leaving some details vague though, as the whole purpose of me being strict on backgrounds or OCs is so that any reader can immerse themselves in what I post as simply the reader.

________________________________________________________

Optimus...well, Orion knew that something was very off the second he laid his optics on you. He had done enough research behind Megatron's back to know what planet he was on and the inhabitants on it, and you were not supposed to be like that. He could tell there were Cybertronian metals in your body, his only guess was experimentation of sorts. Orion was taken aback by this when you came rushing in for a place to hide and in his spark he knew he couldn't let an innocent fall to harm on his watch, this encounter stored in his memories now had only made him further question Megatron's motives. Too many secrets, too many inconsistencies, and too much loss of life. With you here staying with him (albeit in secret), Orion felt more at ease, finally having someone there to ground him on stressful days. When you do eventually need to refuel just like him, he always lets you get your fill first, tipping his cube of energon just enough to let you take sips. During this time his mind wanders a bit, curious as to how exactly you're still functioning after all this time in a body like yours. What happened to you? Who did this to you? How are you able to process energon like him? Every time these thoughts come up he's tempted to ask you but shies away from the idea of pushing you on a sensitive subject such as that, a habit of his old self, not something Optimus would do. It's until after you bring it up after venting to him does he hear about what really happened. It saddens him really...what happened to you, how much it just reminds him of his own world where corruption is everywhere, even on this young planet. He wishes he could help you, he really does, but he's not sure where he would start. Both you and Orion grew closer and closer over the time spent on the Nemesis, each day you'd tell him something new about Earth and in exchange he'd tell you something about Cybertron. Orion wasn't like Optimus in many ways, him being more open like this as one reason and Orion being far more gentle in his aura as another reason. Eventually you did try bringing up that Orion WAS a Prime, but he struggled with explaining his hesitance to believe you. As far as he knew, he was Orion Pax, right before the war started, nothing made sense to him anymore. It did not mean he was ignorant of Megatron's suspicious behavior though nor did he not believe you outright, He could tell for himself that this was not the mech he once knew. If anything he wanted to speak with someone from team Prime to hear their side of the story. It was risky sure, but with everything you had discussed with each other, he was willing to take that risk once the opportunity arrived. When there was a long period of free time, Orion opted to lay down on his berth and have long chats with you. Something about you just felt familiar and warm, and you were his only comfort while stuck on that ship. Every time you smiled or laughed his spark would feel light and he'd slowly begin smiling himself. Maybe soon he'll find a safe way for you to leave the ship, and then you two could meet again, but for now, he would enjoy your presence with him. This growing relationship did not go unnoticed however...Megatron knew you could be a threat to his plans, but for now, you seemed to be keeping Orion's mind in tact, something he needed if he wanted the best work out of him. The warlord could not help but feel a pang of anger though when he saw how Orion looked at you, he knew that look all too well.

Note: Sorry if there are any errors, I'm still sick and I might not be thinking straight.

[banapsha]

Plotting like a Pro: The Only Guide You Need to Outline Your Next Novel

So, you've got this brilliant idea for a novel swirling around in your big monster brain, but you're not quite sure how to wrangle it into shape. *read this next line dramatically* Fear not, soldier, for I am here to guide you through the tumultuous journey of outlining your masterpiece. *you can stop now* But do get ready to dive into the wild world of outlining – where chaos meets creativity, and brainy think-think meets handy write-write.

What Exactly is an Outline?

An outline is basically like the blueprint for your novel – it's your roadmap to success, your guiding light through the abyss (too much?) It breaks down the events of your story in sequential order, ensuring that you stay on track and don't accidentally veer off into the land of plot holes and confusion. Think of it as your comic relief best friend (minus the comic relief), always there to keep you in check as you navigate the treacherous waters of writing. 

What Does an Outline Look Like?

Now, technically speaking, there are rules for outlining. But hey, as long as whatever you decide to do works for you, you need no rules. Some fancy folks swear by fancy formats like the skeletal outline or the flashlight outline (let me know if you need details on said fancy formats), but honestly, as long as it works for you, you do you, boo-bear (that’s definitely not my thing). Whether you prefer bullet points, numbers, or hieroglyphics (AKA code), the format doesn't matter as long as it's easy for you to understand. After all, the point is to simplify the process, not complicate it further.

Benefits of Outlining:

Oh boy, where do I even begin with this one? Let me count the ways outlining will change your writing game (maybe even your life. Okay, that was too much.): (TIP: read the headings dramatically for a better experience)

It’s Your Beakon Through the Murky Waters: Ever feel like you're navigating through a dense fog with no compass in sight? Fear not, my friend, because outlining is exactly that for when you enter the said forest to write your book; your guiding light. It's like having a trusty co-pilot by your side, whispering sweet plot pointers in your ear as you navigate the treacherous waters of storytelling. No more aimless wandering – with outlining, you'll always know which way to steer your literary ship.

Plot Holes? Not on My Watch: Say goodbye to those pesky plot holes that seem to pop up out of nowhere like weeds in a garden. Outlining is like a preemptive strike against narrative inconsistencies, ensuring that your story is as tight as corsets from start to finish. With each plot point neatly mapped out, you can rest easy knowing that your readers won't be left scratching their heads wondering what the heck just happened.

It Helps You Defy the Abyss: Picture this: your story is like a runaway train hurtling down the tracks at breakneck speed. Without proper guidance, it's all too easy for it to veer off course and crash and burn in a fiery wreck (That would be an awesome scene but not what we’re looking for.) Outlining is like the conductor that keeps that train chugging along on the right track. No detours, no distractions – just a straight shot to narrative greatness.

Crafting a Killer Climax: Ah, the climax – the moment we've all been waiting for. With outlining in your team, crafting a jaw-dropping climax is as easy as pie. No more floundering around trying to figure out how to tie up loose ends – your outline has already done the heavy lifting for you. So go ahead, crank up the tension, unleash those plot twists, and watch as your readers' jaws hit the floor.

Also, Adios, Writer's Block: Writer's block – the nemesis of every living writer. But not anymore, because outlining is like a magical antidote that banishes writer's block to the furthest corners of the earth. With each plot point neatly laid out before you, there's no room for procrastination or self-doubt. So grab that pen, flex those creative muscles, and get ready to slay the blank page like never before.

Less Revision, More Celebration: Let's face it – nobody likes revising their work. It's like trying to untangle a knot of Christmas lights – frustrating, time-consuming, and guaranteed to give you a headache. But with outlining, you can kiss those revision woes goodbye. By nailing down your story's structure from the get-go, you'll save yourself countless hours of agony down the line. So go ahead, pat yourself on the back – you've earned it, champ.

Stuck While Outlining?

Feeling like you're trapped in a maze with no way out? (Lucky for you, you're not Newt. Get it?) Don't sweat it, my friend. Because Mama’s about to drop some bombs! 

Work Backwards Like a Boss: Ever heard the phrase "it's easier to navigate a maze when you see the finish line"? Well, tiny, it's time to put that theory to work. When you find yourself stuck in the tangled web of outlining, start with the climax – the grand finale, the pièce de résistance. Then, work backward, asking yourself how the f*ck you got there in the first place. It's like retracing your steps through a labyrinth, armed with the knowledge of where you're headed. Suddenly, those tangled plot threads start to unravel, and you're on your way to outlining glory.

Outlining Ain't Easy, But Neither is Writing: Let's be real for a minute – outlining is hard. Like, really hard. But here's the thing: so is writing. You're basically creating something out of nothing, conjuring entire worlds and characters out of thin air (or neurons). But when you tackle outlining head-on, you're tackling that frustration right at the source. Instead of letting it simmer beneath the surface throughout the entire writing process, you're ripping it off like a band-aid and getting it out of the way upfront. Sure, it might be tough, but trust me – it's a heck of a lot easier than dealing with it later down the line.

Don't Skip Outlining, You'll Regret It: Now, I get it – outlining can be a pain in the @$$. It's tempting to skip this step altogether and dive headfirst into the writing process. But trust me when I say this: if you’re new and want to make your life easier in the long run, outlining is non-negotiable. Think of it like laying the foundation for a house – sure, it takes time and effort, but without it, your literary masterpiece is destined to crumble (with all the people still inside). So don't shoot yourself in the foot by skipping outlining just because it's difficult. (You shoot your foot now, something is gonna come bite you in your backside later.)

Does Outlining Ruin the Creative Process?

Ah, the age-old question. Does outlining zap all the creativity out of writing? Short answer: absolutely not. In fact, outlining is like flexing your creative muscles on steroids (or any other choice of d*ug). It's your chance to invent an entire world, complete with characters, conflicts, and plot twists in like a jiffy! Think of it as storytelling in shorthand – compact, efficient, and oh-so-satisfying. Outlining isn't the enemy of creativity – it's the ultimate wingman. It's like playing god in your own little literary universe, and let me tell you, it's a heck of a rush. 

Forget what you've heard about outlining being dry and boring – it's anything but. (This is your GOD era) Trust me, there's nothing more satisfying than seeing your world completely mapped out in full.

Embrace it, harness it, and watch as your dream narrative becomes a reality.

With an Outline, You Know What's Coming Next...But Does That Lessen the Excitement?

With an outline in hand, you're always in the know about what's coming next. But that doesn't take away from the thrill of writing the novel. Honestly, it's quite the opposite for me. I find myself even more excited to dive into my story because I have a roadmap of where it's headed. Knowing the next scene waiting to unfold keeps me on the edge of my seat, eager to see how it all plays out (I like to know that I am heading towards that one gut-wrenching bit that will make my audiences wish I was dead. It's really fun; sometimes waiting for deaths and stuff.) Plus, there's no room for boredom when you're constantly propelled forward by the anticipation of what's to come. Unless, of course, you've outlined a snooze-fest of a story – but let's be real, who wants to write that?

What if I Need to Deviate from My Outline?

Ah, the age-old dilemma of sticking to the script versus going off-book. Here's the deal – your book, your choice. The outline you wrote is not carved in stone. It's more like a rough sketch, a guideline to keep you on track.

So what if you hit a snag and need to deviate from your outline? It happens to the best of us. Sometimes while writing you realize that you have something more interesting than what you’ve written in your outline. Do it. We’re all not perfect.

Now, a common gripe among writers is when their characters seem to have a mind of their own and they veer off script. But let's get one thing straight – your characters are as fictional as a unicorn riding a rainbow. They don't have any authority; you do. 

So when you say your character "decided" to go rogue, what you really mean is that your outline didn't quite sync up with their psyche. 

The solution? Plan your characters alongside your outline, ensuring they're in harmony with the plot. Build characters that fit snugly into your story's framework, and vice versa. 

How Long Should My Outline Be?

F*ck, I  don't know, ah, your outline should be as long as it needs to be. *nailed it* 

Some writers prefer short, concise outlines that just cover the basics, while others go full-on novel mode with lengthy tomes that leave no stone unturned. There's no right or wrong answer here, folks – it's all about what works best for you.

Some Famous Authors Don't Outline, Why Should I?

Well, here's the deal – you're the captain of your own writing ship, and nobody's forcing you to walk on the wooden plank. 

Sure, there are legendary authors out there who craft masterpieces without ever touching an outline. But unless you're a seasoned pro, it might be wise to outline before beginning to stay away from C.H.A.O.S. (not me foreshadowing my next book) (Follow me on Instagram for updates!)

Remember the writers you are comparing yourself to have likely got years of experience under their belts, while you might still be finding your Nemo.

Let's say that outlining just isn't you. Maybe you thrive on spontaneity and the thrill of discovery. Or perhaps you're still figuring out your writing groove. That's cool – we're all on our own journey. 

But do not forget: for every famous author who shuns outlines, there are plenty more who swear by them like a sailor (get it? Coz a sailer swears a lot). So instead of trying to walk in someone else's boots, lace up your own and run on that race track like no one has ever baby.

It's your story – so tell it your way.

Do I Have to Outline?

Nyet. (And Da)

See, in the wild world of writing, there are two main camps: the planners and the pantsters. Think of them as the yin and yang of the literary universe.

Now, there's no denying that there are some writers out there who can weave an epic novel out of thin air with the grace of a ninja. But let's keep it real – those folks are like The Avengers of our world. Sure, they exist, but they're definitely the exception, not the rule.

For us mere mortals, outlining is like a trusty lifeboat in the stormy seas of storytelling. It's the secret sauce that turns a plate of pasta into a plate of pasta; if you catch my drift.

If you're finding yourself drowning in a sea of plot twists and character arcs, maybe it's time to give outlining a whirl. If you're one of the lucky few who can thrive without a roadmap, more power to ya (you nasty little b*tch. Yes, I am jealous of you!) 

Just remember – if you ever find yourself shipwrecked on the shores of writer's block, the outline lifeboat is always there to rescue you. There's no shame in admitting you need a little help along the way.

How to Outline:

Step #0: Brain Dump: You're struck by a lightning bolt of inspiration, and suddenly, your brain is buzzing with a million ideas. What do you do? Simple – grab a pen and paper, or your laptop (or your phone, you lazy @$$) and unleash the chaos onto the page. Let it all out – every random thought, half-baked concept, and outlandish idea. It's like a creative free-for-all, with no rules and no judgment. It doesn’t have to make sense, that’s the whole point. This messy brain dump is your starting point, your raw material to mold into something magical. 

Step #1: Making Sense of the Madness: Now that you've got a heaping pile of ideas to work with, it's time to roll up your sleeves and get down to business. Think of this step as your personal pitch meeting with yourself. You've got a mess of concepts, characters, and themes swirling around in your head – now it's time to wrangle them into submission. Start by sketching out the basics – the premise, the characters, the vibe, the themes, the subplots – all of it. Keep it loose, keep it flexible, and above all, keep it open to change. Play around with different ideas and see what sticks. Once you've got some ideas that make sense and that you're happy with, it's time to move on to the next step and bring your story to life. Buckle up, Buttercup. 

Step #2: The Rough Sketch: This is where the real magic happens– where you take that messy somewhat sensible pile of ideas and start sculpting them into the masterpiece they are going to be. First things first, dig deep into the heart of your story. What are the main conflicts your characters are going to face? What obstacles will they encounter along the way? This is your chance to map out the twists and turns that will keep your readers on the edge of their seats. Now, break it down into four key areas: Who, What, How, and Why. Who are your characters? What drives them, what haunts them, what makes them tick? What's the basic premise of your story – the very thing that'll hook your audience in 30 seconds flat? How will your characters go on both internal and external journeys, and what will they learn along the way? And most importantly, why are you passionate about this story's theme? What do you want to shout from the rooftops, and what big ideas do you want to explore through your character's journey? At its core, the rough sketch is all about finding the story in the mess. It's about distilling your ideas down to their purest essence and uncovering the beating heart of your narrative. So don't be afraid to explore and experiment. Dream big, think outside the box, and create something truly extraordinary.

Step #3: The Outline: Now, after what seems like decades of work, it's time to take that rough sketch of yours and start turning it into something truly spectacular. I usually use the Three-Act Structure. This bad boy is like the backbone of storytelling – it's what keeps the narrative strong and sturdy. If you have any other story structures you swear by, use one of those. Basically, you’re grabbing a story structure that you believe suits your rough sketch and breaking down your sketch into the key story beats of your structure. For the Three-Act Structure, it is usually like this: Act One: the setup, where you introduce your characters and set the stage for the adventure to come. Act Two: the confrontation, where the action heats up and your characters face their biggest challenges head-on. And Act Three: the resolution, where everything comes together in a satisfying conclusion. You can choose to go as in-depth here as you want. (Maybe write like a 20,000-word outline, I don't care.) Now, if you’re not a big fan of writing a 20,000-word outline, the bullet-point outline is here to save your day. It's like the shorthand version of outlining – short, sweet, and to the point. This outline gives you a sense of your character arcs, internal conflicts, and transformative journeys, all without bogging you down with unnecessary details. The beauty of it all? You get to choose your own adventure. If you're happy with your bullet-point outline and ready to dive into drafting, go for it. But if you're itching to go deeper, to explore every nook and cranny of your story, then by all means, keep doing more. The important thing is that you feel confident in your outline, knowing that it's the solid foundation upon which your masterpiece will be built.

Tips and Extras: (some juicy details)

Brainstorming the Centerpieces:

If your story is a jigsaw puzzle, the key scenes are the biggest, boldest pieces. These are the moments that make your heart race, that keep your readers glued to the page, and that make your story truly unforgettable. So start with laying out those major scenes or events. Think big – we're talking key turning points, epic locations, and jaw-dropping plot twists. Don't worry about the order or details just yet – this is about getting those main parts out of your head and onto the page.

What if you don't have all the pieces yet? Well, kitty-kitty, this is a quick, flexible way to brainstorm the centerpieces of your story. Don't stress about getting everything perfect on the first try – just let the ideas flow and see where they take you. 

Getting Specific:

Now that we've mapped out the key scenes, it's time to add some meat to these bones. Think of this step as adding color to a black-and-white photo – it's the step where your story starts to come alive. For each scene, jot down a sentence or a short paragraph that captures the essence of what's happening. No need to stress about getting every little detail perfect – just focus on what's being communicated in the scene, the location, and the characters involved.

As you add these high-level details, think about how each scene fits into the bigger picture of your story. How does it move the plot forward? What themes or motifs are being explored? And most importantly, how does it connect with the scenes that come before and after it? This is when you start weaving together the threads of your narrative, creating a tapestry that's rich with meaning and emotion.

Remember, there are no rules for how much detail to add – do what works best for you. Some scenes may only need a few words to capture their essence, while others may require a bit more fleshing out. Trust your instincts and let your creativity guide you. After all, this is your story – own it, embrace it, and let it shine.

Connecting the Dots:

Now that we've fleshed out those key scenes with high-level details, it's time to step back and take a bird's-eye view of your narrative landscape. This is where you can make connections between themes and concepts that you might otherwise miss if you dove straight into writing.

Grab your outline and give it a thorough re-read. Look for scenes that feel out of place, transitions that need a little extra love, or characters who make a sudden appearance without a proper introduction. These are the hiccups that can disrupt the flow of your story and leave your readers scratching their heads. Highlight these areas and make a note of any plot points or scenes that need to be moved around to get the sequence just right.

Think of this step like conducting an orchestra – every element needs to be in perfect harmony for the performance to truly shine. So don't be afraid to make some tweaks, to shift things around, to fine-tune your narrative until it sings. Listen to the rhythm of your story – it knows where it wants to go, you just have to follow its lead.

Unlocking New Ideas:

While it's true that imagery and videos won't make it into your novel, they can be incredibly powerful tools for sparking creativity and bringing your story to life. Think of it like adding fuel to the fire of your imagination – it's a surefire way to kick-start new ideas and breathe fresh life into your narrative.

Get experimental! Dive into Google Images, Pinterest, or anywhere you find a photo that might fit. Start saving images or movie clips that resonate with your scenes. Whether it's a striking landscape, a compelling character portrait, or a mood-setting photograph, let your imagination run wild and see where it takes you.

If you're the type of writer who loves to create mood boards, now's the perfect time to put those skills to good use. Take a look at your existing mood boards and see if any images could help evoke the feeling you're trying to capture in your scenes. Whether it's the warm glow of a sunset or the eerie silence of a deserted street, let these images serve as inspiration as you continue to shape your story.

The Importance of Feedback:

With any creative endeavor, whether it's writing a novel or painting a masterpiece, feedback is key. It's like having a fresh pair of eyes on your work – offering insights and perspectives that you might have missed on your own. So if you’re still not sure about the first version of your outline, it's time to seek out that invaluable feedback.

When asking for feedback, be specific about what you're looking for. Are you seeking input on the sequence of events? Plot points that need fine-tuning? Character development that feels a bit flat? Whatever it may be, make sure to communicate your needs clearly so that your reviewers can provide targeted feedback.

The important part is that you need to stay open to suggestions and improvements. It can be tough to hear criticism of your work but try not to take it personally. Remember, the goal here is to make your story the best it can be, and sometimes that means making tough decisions and embracing constructive criticism.

The Moment of Truth:

Now it's time to dive headfirst into the exhilarating world of drafting. This is where your story begins to unfold before your very eyes. Your outline and your drafts are perfect companions. They're like the dynamic duo of storytelling, working together in perfect harmony to guide you through the creative process. 

As you begin sketching out the details in your draft, remember to trust the process and let your creativity flow. Embrace the freedom of expression that comes with drafting – after all, this is your chance to bring your story to life in all its vivid detail. So don't hold back – let your imagination run wild and see where it takes you.

Comrades, now armed with the knowledge of outlining, you're ready for war. So go forth, brave souls, and let your imagination run wild as you craft worlds, weave characters, and spin tales that will captivate hearts and minds.

Remember, outlining is not just a tool – it's your secret weapon, your trusty guide through the wilderness of creativity. And if/when you find yourself lost in the midst of your writing, grappling with plot twists and character arcs, just remember these wise words originally said by yours truly: you've got this. 

Happy outlining, and may your pens never run dry!

(If all this helped you, please support me too; in the name of camaraderie. Follow me on Instagram by clicking here.

Comment what else you want to know?

And if you wish to buy my book click here!

That's all, see you later, soldier. 🫡)

[sirellas]

prodigy s2 thoughts after watching the whole thing. got kinda long :/

good: i love solum and the vau nakat. they were the shining light of this season. i wish there had been more. i was prepared to be meh on their storyline which was also gwyn's, just because last season was kind of meh - a recycle of that aos movie plot with the sole survivor who comes back to genocide the federation, etc etc. but this season added so much needed depth and interesting visuals! that planet is so cool!

GWYNDALA! her story and her arc this season!!! very good. child of a destroyed world who goes back in time to save them, only to find her time nemesis already there poisoning their minds against her because she's an outsider to her own people! girl what!!! and she meets her pre-evil dad who has a man bun!! and she goes through a sacred ritual to prove she belongs there and be able to save them but she can't even speak the language!!! she is probably one of my top favorite new trek characters, no joke. her being captain at the end felt earned and GOOD (i mean yeah silly too. these are criminal children who have never read a starfleet manual lol why are they getting their own starfleet ship)

on the flip side, i hate dal <3 truly the purple jack crusher.

not good: solum was at the beginning for an episode or two, and at the end for a bit. the in between episodes lacked a lot of direction from beginning to get to the end. very walkabout way when they're supposed to be solving the universe's time existence or something. i really think they found starfleet too soon in this show. they needed more time to develop as characters before the introduction of real federation people and places that are already well known to the viewer. i just found it boring when almost every "new" thing they encountered was actually just a callback to another show. prodigy has some really interesting new ideas in the context of trek but they're so few that they get overshadowed by the nostalgia bait.

not good, but to be expected [SIGH]: it's nostalgia bait but it's also new trek canon compliance bait. episode 20 of this season was basically just a prologue for picard.

okay another good thing because i told myself not to be too negative: such a pretty show omg. the landscapes of alien worlds and the space shots and the cool new aliens and monsters!!! literally this is the highlight of this show. it's so creative with alien worlds in a way other trek that's not animated can't be, but with more care for details and beauty than tas or lwd.

bad: the humanoid character animation is very bad. when people say prodigy's animation is bad, this is what they mean. which is a shame because it's such a beautifully animated show for everything besides normal people lol. another reason i think they should have spent more time away from the federation in s1 is because their human models are so bad!!! this show relies on a lot of character speech, closeup dramatic moments. and it's bad. i'm so sorry to invoke st*r w*rs in this write up but they were making 3d cartoons in 2014 with better character animation than this.

wonderful: maj'el the azula-coded vulcan hotshot pilot who makes out vulcan sloppy style with the they/them non-corporeal being

very bad: jack crusher.

bummer: wesley, beverly, jack crusher reuinion in meh animation. it's disheartening!!! those people deserve better (not jack) than this.

bummer, continued: sooo many good character moments in this show. but the character animation is bad. i love the vau nakat because they move within the limitations of this animation style because they didn't exist before, so it feels like a natural part of them. same with the other new elements designed for this show. THOSE are the characters and story elements that should be focused on, not these random starfleet people that die left and right. seriously i think all of chakotay's crew and most of janeway's just die. or get erased from time.

i've complained enough about chakotay already but one last time: why do we keep trying to make chakotay work. why do we keep trying to make robert beltran work. one is founded on racist stereotypes and the other is just a fascist. chakotay doesn't have to be here!

saw someone else say they should have dropped 5 episodes at a time and yeah. dropping 20 at once sets it up for failure tbh. i mean this whole season was obviously set up for failure, but i think its only shot is longevity among fans. which i don't see happening really. and telling people to watch it in rude guilt-y ways like i see dominating the prodigy tag on here isn't going to cut it tbh.

i think ultimately my issues with prodigy are the same with as most new trek. they present some hit-or-miss fucked up ideas they don't seem to fully understand, and then sandwich them between super heartfelt toxic positivity "we can achieve anything if we try hard enough and also love our friends enough" messages. star trek needs strong character-driven plots and intense acting to make their weird stories work and that's still prodigy's weak point.

the tragedy is i think this show WANTS to focus on the aliens and the new things it introduces instead of the nostalgia bait, but it has to sell out and put janeway in a tanktop to get adult fans interested, the same fans who yell at everyone to watch this show or else. this season would have been better with more time spent on solum, more time developing the individual characters new to this show, and less federation.

overall rating of prodigy s2: still better than any season of picard. and very pretty.

[children-of-epiales]

Slip Up

Word count: 1022

 “ 'Akhshaa al'ashbah…” 

Nemesis raises her head, catching Manat’s quick peek at her from behind the latter’s tablet; she’s sitting behind Soleil, using him as a shield from the unforgiving sun, with her legs folded under her. 

The Haitian’s head turns slightly too, having heard her. 

Soleil peeks at the masked man standing near the tent; he notices that even when Ghost doesn’t have the shadows to define the details of the mask he wears, his strength and loadout are visible, which would be enough for any sane person to know that they should fear the SAS soldier. 

“ 'Iinah alshakhs aladhi yajib 'an yakun khayfan mink.” The marine reassures the small woman, her eyes meeting Ghost’s just in time. It’s not the possibility that he knows what they’re saying-he would have reacted sooner, rather somehow he knows it’s he that the soldiers are talking about. 

Perhaps it’s that they spoke too softly, not loudly like they were earlier; how they made fun of each other and laughed while Ghost was on the other side of the room, perhaps he liked it when other people actually felt comfortable around him. Nemesis heavily doubted the idea. 

She raised her brows expectantly at the masked Englishman. Price’s voice caught both of their attentions before Ghost could speak his mind. 

Everyone stood, gravitated toward the captain, and they were off when all was said and done. 

Prior to sending off her soldiers and herself to the SpecGru and their opposition, she made it clear that they needed to be as casual as possible; being from separate militaries and branches, it didn’t make sense for anyone to really know each other above any training. She didn’t feel comfortable with even the idea that any of them might have been acquaintances- no, Nightmare couldn’t afford any risks.

Only a few days in did Soleil inform her that she probably shouldn’t expect that part of the plan to work. The members of her team were simply too close, they cared for each other too much, and being surrounded by so many hostiles didn’t help either. 

So of course, the marine had to be the one to almost blow their cover during the mission. 

Red light paints the air, complemented by earth-shaking noise and dirt flying up and outwards; it’s an ambush, everyone’s keeping their heads down. Among the orders being shouted and the bullets that fly, Nemesis hears a high-pitched scream, she turns right into the chest of the Scotsman that she actually likes speaking to. 

He’s telling her they need to go, he’s still being nice about it in a situation where both of the soldiers can be shot dead in a heartbeat. For once, Nemesis barks at him to go on and pushes past Soap, taking off the first opportunity she gets. 

Manat is kneeled several yards ahead of the marine, attempting to stand and continue while holding onto her leg. When her fearful regard reaches her superior, the soldier extends a hand and tries to insist Nemesis go on without her. “-I won’t make it to the target!” Manat tries to explain, her shaky hand pressed down on a wound on her leg, the area around it already soaked with blood. “ Please you-”

A shadow is cast over the women and they both turn to witness the man who used to be only a legend; Nemesis can’t speak fast enough before her friend is picked up, just barely able to squeak in protest, and Ghost shouts at the latter to “Fucking move!”, and the three are running again. 

Nemesis fires at an enemy three yards ahead, Soleil standing in the doorway to the safehouse and he moves to let the trio in. He’s just as panicked as she is, they’re both trying to think of what could be said to explain what just happened. But there's nothing that can be said right now.

The door is slammed shut behind them. Ghost takes a speechless Manat to the table, pushes everything back so he can set her down. A tourniquet is used and, after Ghost removes her hand from the wound, bandages are applied to the piece of embedded shrapnel. 

Manat appears to work up some sort of energy to move, her lips twitching before she opens her mouth. “ Do you think-” She mumbles in a terrified voice, her train of thought shut down when the Brit gives her his attention. 

“ It couldn’t have hit an artery, right?” The marine speaks up for her. “ She’s bleeding but…” She shrugs when Ghost doesn’t say anything, fighting the urge to comment on how successful he is at being an absolute freak. It’s the fact that he came back for the both of them and carried Manat to the target location; whether he had to help them or not was beyond her. 

She didn’t expect that to be the case, not for a private military company. Of course she remembered what was reported to her about KorTac. 

It isn’t until Ghost actually responds that Nemesis realizes he’s pissed off. 

“ It didn’t.” Is all he offers in an icy tone. 

Nemesis joins Manat’s side when he leaves the latter. 

The flight back to base is too long, Nemesis welcomes any sort of relief when she sees her friend get rushed off to be cared for; it's quickly squashed when she notices Ghost approaching Price from her peripheral vision. 

She and Manat were supposed to be acquaintances. Nothing close to friends but nothing less. She shouldn’t have rushed to Manats side like that-it was too fast. Nemesis cares too much and now Ghost knows it. Soon Price will know too. 

Soleil appears at her side, his sunglasses resting on his head. “ We'll figure something out." he says, unsure if he himself is telling the truth. " We can ask J for help."

Nemesis reaches into her pocket when she feels it vibrate. The cellphones given out were all disposable, so the two go outside before she reads the text.

The marine finds herself smiling for the first time that week.

J: We got our hands on some of their files. Reaper’ll send them ASAP :)

Translation(s):

'Akhshaa al'ashbah -> I fear ghosts (I'm afraid of ghosts)

 'Iinah alshakhs aladhi yajib 'an yakun khayfan mink -> He is the person who answers to be afraid of you (He is the one who should be afraid of you)

Taglist: @shegetsburned @poisonedtruth @voidika @jinfromyarikawa @scentedcandleibex

[marvelmaniac715]

This is Chapter Ten of the Kingdom AU fanfic I’m writing with @fanficwriter284. This chapter’s shorter, but it’ll cover some important plot details that will be relevant later :). To make up for the shorter chapter, here’s some Picrew fanart I made for this AU of the twins:

Glenda:

Glen:

————————————————————-

The twins had decided to go to the stables together to learn more about how to care for their new horses. This gave Chucky and Tiffany the perfect opportunity to have an important conversation. They’d been putting it off all day, but this conversation needed to happen, so with heavy hearts, the couple sat down together. Chucky started.

“I have a plan to lure Psychs out of hiding, but it feels so wrong…”

He frowned, overcome with guilt and shame. But his wife squeezed his hand, silently urging him to continue, so he did.

“It doesn’t feel entirely safe, but if he knew that the children were out in public with seemingly no guards around them, he may be tempted to try again.”

Tiffany cocked her head to one side, slightly curious.

“But how would we make it look as if there were no guards around the children? Chucky, remember the mistake we made when the twins were babies and-‘

“I know, I know the mistake we made the first time, love. The guard who was foolish enough to sleep whilst on duty paid dearly for it, remember? I’m not suggesting we let our children out into the world with no supervision, I’m merely wondering if sending some guards to accompany the twins in plain clothes at a slight distance would be such a bad idea.”

Tiffany nodded, satisfied that her babies would be safe. She couldn’t sleep peacefully knowing that the monster that had kidnapped her newborns was still out there, possibly plotting his revenge. Even when she and her family had been riding horses together, she’d been unable to shake the feeling that somebody was watching her from the bushes, despite repeatedly checking that there was nobody there. It had only taken one moment of weakness last time, who knows what would happen if they allowed themselves to idly sit by whilst a kidnapper was on the loose? She hated what the plan would entail, but what other choices did they have?

“So what did you have in mind for the children? Should we tell them?”

Immediately, Chucky shook his head.

“Absolutely not. It would only concern them, they should know nothing of our plan. As for my plans for the children, I don’t wish to overwhelm them so soon. I was thinking perhaps a portrait or two, a couple of public outings, not much, just enough to let him know that our family is together again. If we do things right, the children may actually find the next few weeks to be an enjoyable experience.”

Again, Tiffany nodded. The more her husband spoke, the less concerned she was for her children’s well-being. She wanted them to be safe of course, but more than that, she wanted them to be happy, and if they planned everything just so, the twins would maintain their innocence. With this plan made, the couple shook hands. But before they could discuss the topic further, the door burst open, and a frantic looking messenger stood in the doorway, gasping for breath.

“Your majesties, I come bearing dark tidings!”

Immediately, Chucky sprang to his feet, drawing his sword. Meanwhile, Tiffany stood, planning to head to the stables to ensure the safety of her children. Chucky would have gone with her, but alas, his duties lied with his kingdom above all else, because he was often its only line of defence. Trying to keep a calm and level tone but ultimately failing, the Madeyed King addressed the trembling servant.

“What news? How do my children fare?”

The messenger gulped and tried to maintain eye contact with his king.

“The prince and princess fare well, my king, they were playing in the stables the last I saw of them. But I carry a message from Clayoun.”

Chucky paled as Tiffany gasped in horror. What did his nemesis King Clah have to say right now? When they were already so weakened and vulnerable. Desperate to hear the message, he rushed forward and pinned the messenger to the nearest wall by the neck.

“Well? Speak, man! What news?”

In between wheezes and pathetic gasps for air, the messenger choked out:

“P-prepare for war.”

This is really exciting, me and @fanficwriter284 are collaborating to write a fic together! It’s set in their Kingdom AU, where Chucky and Tiffany are king and queen of a kingdom. Think of this fic as a blend between Seed of Chucky and Tangled, it should be a lot of fun. It’s another multi chapter fic, and we’ll take turns writing chapters. This is the prologue. We hope you enjoy it :).

————————————————————-

The night was dark and cold. The howling wind perfectly matched the howling of Queen Tiffany, who was currently going through a difficult labour. Her husband wasn’t home for the birth, he’d been called away at the last minute to yet another battle. Not called away exactly, he tended to wage war when he was stressed, and he had been extremely stressed during the pregnancy. Conceiving had been difficult, to have not one child but two was utterly miraculous.

Chucky had promised to be home before sunrise, but as it 11 o’clock at night and Tiffany had not received word that he was close, that prospect was seeming less and less likely. So it seemed as if the Queen was doomed to suffer through her labour alone, not feeling comforted by the terrified doctors and maids surrounding her. 

As her screams reached a crescendo, the door flew open, and a frantic looking King Charles Lee Loman Reinhardt burst into the room, sporting a dozen new open scars. Momentarily forgetting any sense of regal decorum, he ran up to his wife and grasped her hand in his, squeezing tightly with a deep sense of worry.

“Have the babies not come yet?”

Tiffany screamed yet again, before gathering the strength to speak. 

“No, it’s been hours! I’m starting to believe these children will never come-‘

Chucky squeezed tighter, growing more worried, despite that seeming impossible. Seemingly noticing how intense he seemed, he tried to smile, but it seemed more like a terrified grimace.

“Don’t say that, my own mother had a difficult labour with my twin and I, but we were born eventually. Besides, this is the hardest part, afterwards we’ll be parents. Isn’t that just incredible?”

This thought comforted Tiffany, and as she thought about how wonderful motherhood was going to be, she began to feel something shift. Could it be? Was it time? As if in confirmation, a doctor nodded and beamed.

“I think I can see a head, ma’am! Push!”

Immediately, Tiffany pushed with all of her might, digging her nails into her husband’s hand as she did so. Chucky, to his credit, didn’t make a single sound that would indicate that he was in pain. He’d had practice from the battlefield, he wouldn’t cry out even if he were stabbed through the heart.

After what seemed like an eternity of pushing (which was, in actuality, only eleven minutes) a healthy baby boy with hair the colour of his father’s came kicking and screaming into the world. A son and heir, the kingdom would be so happy. It didn’t matter what the second child’s gender was, Tiffany had done her queenly duty and provided a male heir. As the boy was washed and wrapped in blankets, Tiffany valiantly began to push out the second child.

This birth seemed easier, potentially due to the fact that Tiffany’s stress has alleviated, and about five minutes later the second child was born. This child was a girl, with a head of flame-red hair identical to her father and brother’s. Now the kingdom had a new prince and princess, and Tiffany was so pleased.

Mere moments later, both twins were placed on their mother’s chest, freshly washed and swaddled. Their father bent down to get a good look at them out of his good eye. Tiffany had worried that her husband would struggle to bond with the children, he always seemed so closed off and he had publicly stated that he detested children in the past. But the second that Chucky reached down to touch their children’s faces so tenderly, she knew that this wouldn’t be an issue.

“You’ve done so well, my love. What shall we name them, then?”

Giving this a moment of thought, Tiffany glanced down at her babies, struggling to make up her mind. There had been a list of approved names, but looking down at the twins, it was clear that none of them would fit. She looked up at her husband for assistance.

“Can’t think of one, huh? That’s okay, none of the names we like fit, do they? I did have a backup option, but I wanted to wait until the twins were here to see if the name would work. It was a name for our son, our daughter could maybe have a name that started with the same letter?”

That sounded like a great idea, it certainly took a lot of stress out naming. Relieved, Tiffany nodded and smiled.

“What was the name you were thinking of?”

Chucky suddenly grew quiet, slightly sad even. He reached out to hold their son, and stared into the boy’s eyes. He nodded decisively and looked back at his wife.

“Carolus. After my twin brother.”

Tiffany looked down at her son and tested out the name.

“Carolus… I like it. It’s a beautiful name, thank you for suggesting it. Perhaps our daughter’s name could be Cara?”

As if in agreement, the newborn princess grunted and opened her eyes and mouth as wide as she could. Seeing this, both parents laughed.

“I think she likes that name! Okay, it’s settled then. Welcome to the world, Carolus and Cara.”

————————————————————-

A celebration was held throughout the kingdom, lanterns were lit, people danced in the streets. Everybody was thrilled to have a new prince and princess, especially since the King had promised to hold off any battles for the time being, vowing to dedicate himself to his family and not put his life in danger for their sakes.

It was the next evening before Tiffany and Chucky were able to get any sleep. They loathed leaving their children in the nursery down the hall, but that was the custom. They were so tired that they immediately fell asleep the second their heads hit the pillow.

If they had been in a lighter sleep, or maybe even awake, they would’ve heard the latch on the nursery window coming undone. They would’ve heard the quiet freak as the window opened, and the howling of the wind that had been let indoors. They would’ve heard the sound of footsteps in the nursery, followed by the cries of terrified infants. But it was too late.

The next morning, Tiffany went into the nursery to see her children, only to find the cradles empty. With a devastated howl that made her husband run into the room, she came to the heartbreaking realisation that her children were missing.

[earthstellar]

in case anyone is unaware, since I’ve been looking at various toy lines all day and I’ve literally never heard anyone talk about this: 

there was basically a not-quite-Shattered Glass TFP Ratchet made as part of the TakaraTomy Go! line 

Unusually, he's identified as a Decepticon, complete with insignia! According to a translated version of the bio, Ratchet was captured by the Decepticons, and forcibly exposed to Dark Energon thus mutating him into a Decepticon.

I’m genuinely surprised there isn’t more fanfiction about this toyline plot, but to be fair there might be, I’m just not aware of it because if it exists it is almost certainly in Japanese and not English so idk 

I find this interesting because they did Go! versions of all the main TFP Autobots, but Ratchet is the only one who got pulled over to the Decepticon side of things 

the other bots all seem okay with it?? I don’t know what the full backstory is for this line up though, for some reason I’m having a hell of a time trying to dig up more details but I’ll share if I find anything-- let me know if anyone has a clue, I’ve been having asthma attacks all day back-to-back so I’m not on my A game for researching right now lmao 

but I mean, it seems like there were some fun ideas here 

the Go! line was kinda interesting because it introduced some fun concepts: 

1) As above, Ratchet is now a Decepticon, which is a fascinating choice and honestly if they made that concept into a filler episode in TFP or some shit I would have loved to see it animated

2) They called this Go! lineup “Hunters”, although apparently it’s not specifically related to Beast Hunters in the show (or is related primarily through the use of a few re-decos from the Beast Hunters line figures) 

3) Arcee is an archer, which makes sense with the Hunter theme 

4) They gave Hunter Wheeljack a spear/shield combo weapon which looks like about as close to a Keyblade as they could legally get 

5) They gave Hunter Shockwave a second optic but it’s on his tits 

6) There is a Hunter Nemesis Prime and it fucking rules 

As part of the Go! series they also made Optimus Exprime, WHICH IS AN OPTIMUS PRIME WHO TURNS INTO A BULLET TRAIN AND SOME KIND OF CYBER-DRAGON THING ??? 

so I mean, the Go! run had a lot going on, there were some whiffs but mostly there are a few solid ideas/designs that are pretty good 

I think the Hunter Nemesis Prime looks pretty rad, check this shit out 

god the TFP designs make for some kickass re-decos 

also because I’m still trying to piece together any more of the storyline(s) for these figures (if there actually is any further background info, lmao), 

time for some wildly speculative headcanons 

I’m going to choose to believe (for now) that TFP Decepticon Ratchet is painted that actually kinda nice olive green colour because it might be trying to evoke a corrosive chemical green/yellow shade,

which would make sense as we know in TFP series canon that Shockwave is doing chemical shit in his lab all the time and of course in this scene we see Ratchet and Shockwave doing chemical shit together and it’s great 

so since Ratchet’s a Decepticon in this line up, I would like to assume that Hunter Ratchet and “My Second Optic is On My Tits” Hunter Shockwave are probably hanging out and doing some high level, extremely fucked up chemical lab work while truly delivering some legendary banter that we will sadly never hear 

truly love it, may or may not add this to my “extremely long list of fanfiction concepts” notebook for further development when possible 

anyway this was Toy Hour, I’m sorry every single thing I post is approximately ten million words give or take a little, thank you for putting up with my shit <3

hopefully this is new information for somebody lmao, I mean I never see anyone talk about the TFP toys too much (fair enough, really) so I’m not sure how popular these ever got 

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-Ulous: FOP Crossover

*Coughs* Ahem.

Fairly Odd Parents.

Oh, but not what you think! We’re not getting Cosmo and Wanda for a sad Marinette or Adrien. Oh, no...that would be easy.

No, no. Instead, we’re getting Norm the Genie.

Norm the Genie who wants to be free of his lamp but needs a magical stooge to trap in his place and, hey! Kwamis are magic, aren’t they? Not that he knows much about them since they predate the known universe and even Norm isn’t that old, but still!

So somehow Norm’s lamp ends up in Paris. And just happens to end up in Lila’s hands.

Lila, of course, tries to use it to her advantage.

It goes about as well as you should expect...

____________________

It took a few years before Norm’s lamp found itself back in the human world. And of course, it was only a matter of time before it ended up in someone’s hands.

Granted, he hadn’t expected to end up in Paris, France.

Or for his new beneficiary to wear an incredibly unfashionable jacket and have sausages in her hair.

Oh wait, that was her hair. As sausages. Gross.

“So you’re a genie?” She asked.

Norm had to avoid rolling his eyes.

Teenagers. They thought they were so special, so smart. That if something were to happen to them, that it was only for good and because they deserved it somehow. And for how smart they liked to think they were, none of them ever really questioned what the catch was. Or if their wishes were something they should make at all.

This one was no different.

“And you can grant me any wish?”

“Yep.”

“ANY wish?”

“I just said for the seventh time, yes. Any wish. Three of them. Rule-free.”

Not that she knew what Da Rules were, but meh. Details.

“Then I get sucked back into the lamp.”

Of course, he didn’t mention his propensity to twist the wishes for fun. Seriously, if these people were stupid enough to just take advantage of his powers without considering consequences. Or the complete lunacy of just expecting a magical creature to grant them whatever they wanted for no reason just because they ask for it.

Seriously, these chumps never learn.

Now all that remained was for this latest chump to start and he can begin his fun of finding the best ways to twist her wishes for entertainment…

Lila smirked.

“Well then…I wish for Ladybug to be beaten and forced to bow before me!”

Pause.

Norm raised an eyebrow.

“Wait—seriously?”

He shrugged.

“Okay.”

Suddenly, there was a POOF!

And when Lila blinked, there before her was the image of red with black spots.

Ladybug.

By which is meant the lowercase insect “ladybug” kind instead of the uppercase superhero “Ladybug” kind, much to Lila’s disappointment.

As if to further insult her, the bug proceeded to point in her direction, in a facsimile of a bow.

Lila stared.

Norm sighed.

“Ya know, kid, normally people don’t make it this easy. I barely even had to do anything. I feel kind of cheated.”

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Lila demanded, gesturing to the insect.

“It’s your wish. Duh. I mean, I knew people made stupid first wishes but...wow. This is actually worse than the sandwich.”

She wasn't even going to ask.

“My wish was about Ladybug! Not just a normal ladybug! I’m talking about the superhero, Ladybug!”

Norm shrugged. “Well you should have been more specific.”

She practically growled. “Who else would I be talking about?!”

Norm, for his part, was less than impressed.

“I’ve been in a lamp. How should I know?”

Lila huffed before storming over to her computer and turning it to face Norm, showing a picture of a heroine in a red leotard with black spots in mid-swing between buildings.

“THIS is Ladybug. A magical do-gooder who protects the city from Hawk Moth. I want to see her destroyed. Brought low in every way that matters and forced to beg me for mercy.”

“I see.” Norm said, not really getting it at all.

Kids these days, was he right?

“So grant my wish.” She demanded. “I wish for Ladybug, the superhero, to be beaten and kneeling before me.”

Upping it, wasn’t she?

He shrugged. “Fine.”

POOF!

Some distance away, in the middle of an akuma fight, an injured Ladybug was sent flying back into a delivery van full of discarded papers to be shredded for recycling, scattering the papers around her. Winded, she fell into a kneeling position. It just so happened that one of the many papers that on the ground right in front of her was a poster of Lila from one of her photo shoots with Adrien.

Ladybug took no notice of this, being much more concerned with the akuma attack. She quickly pushed herself up and leapt back into the fray.

Lila and Norm watched this on a television from the safety of her apartment some distance away.

“What the hell was that?!” Lila demanded, spinning on Norm.

“Your wish.” He answered bluntly. “She’s beaten. She kneeled.”

“But not to me!”

“Technically, she did.” He corrected her, gesturing to the TV where the now rumpled and sad-looking poster of her image rested where Ladybug had once been. It seemed the hero had even stepped on it once as she took off. Norm bit down the smirk at the unintended irony.

Lila glared at him.

Then she seemed to realize something as she suddenly gained a thoughtful look.

“Can I wish for more wishes?”

Oh, NOW she starts asking smart questions.

Norm stared at her, considering.

He should lie.

He really should lie and say she couldn’t.

From what he’s seen of her so far, this girl seemed a few wires short of a Crock-pot, and speaking of, he was starting to get some flashbacks. His previous time working with Crocker reminded him full well why it was a bad idea to let the humans know they could wish for additional wishes. Plus this girl was already giving him the feeling that the sooner he was away from her, the better.

…but he had spent years as a urinal cake and given what Lila had told him about magical-based superheroes, well, how could he turn away from an opportunity?

“Sure.” He finally answered, much to Lila’s glee.

“Then I wish for three more wishes!” She exclaimed. “And for my first wish, I wish that Ladybug—the superhero Ladybug whom you just saw would be forced to kneel before myself—the me that is right here before you.”

Lila smirked, figuring that it was specific enough that there was no way this could be turned against her.

How little she knew.

The POOF of Norm’s magic was immediately drowned out by complete chaos as something came crashing through the wall and into Lila’s bedroom.

Lila screamed as she was blown back, and covered her face in a limited ability to protect herself from further onslaught.

Coughing could be heard, but it wasn’t just Lila. She dared to peek through her hands and…

Of all people, it was Ladybug crouched on the floor of her room, coughing and waving away the dust and debris.

And sure enough, her position of trying to regain her bearings had her turned in Lila’s directions, head bowed and on her knees. Just as Lila had asked for.

But not in the way she had wanted.

Norm had conveniently vanished from sight, so there was no one else for Ladybug to see besides Lila. Realizing where she was and who she was in front of, Ladybug couldn’t hide her initial scowl before she was able to mask the expression and focus in on the task at hand.

“My apologies, civilian.” She bit out. “Akuma attack. Just stay here and stay safe for now. This won’t take much longer.”

And without another word, she shakily got to her feet and turned back to the attack.

Given Ladybug’s state, Lila could have been in a perfect position to try to interfere. Grab her. Maybe even get her earrings.

But the crash had sent Lila herself falling back, and she was even more unsteady than Ladybug.

She tried to push herself up, but realized that in the chaos, some debris had landed on her leg, preventing her from moving.

Of all the rotten luck!

Ladybug left without further ado and Lila was stuck in her room with a hole in her wall and no way to move from her spot on the floor.

Conveniently, Norm reappeared once she was alone.

“Soooo…just a suggestion, kid, but maybe you should try wishing for something else. Something that doesn’t involve superhero ladybugs.”

“Shut up.” She groused as she struggled to push the broken bits of her desk off her leg and grunting in pain.

Norm, of course, did not shut up.

“I take it you want to use your second wish to restore your room? And your third to wish for more wishes?” He asked, but it was clear he wasn’t actually asking.

“Yes!”

The sooner the better.

With another POOF, her room was restored and her leg, while still injured, was no longer pinned. Cautiously, she rose to her feet, hanging onto her bed for stability.

As if to further mock her, it seemed that Ladybug had successfully defeated the akuma as the Miraculous Cure swept through the area, restoring everything else.

Norm blinked in surprise.

“Huh. Didn’t know that could happen. Well, that was a waste of a wish, huh?”

Lila twitched.

__________________

“Okay. Okay.”

She had thought about this long and hard.

Much to her frustration, it seemed wishing anything against Ladybug directly was doomed to failure. Lila attributed it to Ladybug’s magic and natural luck. There could be no other reason for it. Lila’s phrasing and intentions had been fool-proof.

Norm’s smirks and passive aggressive comments didn’t mean a thing.

As such, Lila reluctantly turned her focus away from her arch nemesis to the more civilian side of things and decided to target someone who had no such protection.

The only one to figure out she was a liar: Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She didn’t know how the other girl knew so quickly. Or what led her to the truth.

And Lila didn’t particularly care.

Marinette was just another thorn in her side. Not nearly as irritating as Ladybug, but still enough to want her gone. And since Lila had a genie and three more wishes to use to her advantage, it seemed Marinette would serve as the perfect way to test it.

And so, Lila made the first of her next three wishes.

“I wish that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was forced to leave Francois Dupont.”

A bit on the extreme side, admittedly. If she was being honest, Lila would have preferred to keep Marinette around and wish her to be miserable in some other way instead. But she had the power of a genie at her command and given Marinette’s annoyingly clever and intrusive nature, it would likely only be a matter of time before she caught on to Lila’s new advantage and tried something to relieve her of it.

So the brat had to go.

And oh, what a wonderful scene it was when two serious and official looking men stepped into the classroom to ask for Marinette to go with them to the Principal’s office. The goody-goody left the room looking scared. Everyone whispered and looked to each other in confusion, questioning why and what happened. Who were those men and what could they want with Marinette?

Lila practically felt downright giddy at the sight! She couldn’t wait to see the other girl in tears!

It was almost two hours later when Marinette was brought back to the room by Principal Damocles. Both looked pale and fatigued. But Marinette in particular looked almost tearful.

“Pardon us, Ms. Bustier, but Marinette is just here to gather her things.”

Lila had to hold herself back from grinning and instead put on a fake look of concern.

“Oh no! Marinette, are you all right?”

"Girl, what happened?" Alya asked, worriedly.

“What did those guys want?” Adrien questioned in concern.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm being transferred.”

Here, Lila did smirk even as everyone else around her gasped in dismay.

Damocles patted Marinette’s shoulder, his fatigue giving way to cheer. “Those gentlemen were representatives of one of the most highly acclaimed private art schools in Paris, and they came to interview Marinette for a place in their program!”

"WHAT?!"

Any smirk Lila did show immediately dropped.

“They saw my hat at the fashion show and other designs from my website, and once they heard that I was complimented by Audrey Bourgeois, they decided to offer me a scholarship to come to their school." Marinette explained, looking a mix of excited and anxious.

“That’s wonderful!”

“You deserve it, Marinette!”

“That’s right! It’s a great honor!” Damocles continued. “Of course, they were rather insistent about arranging the transfer, but it’s early enough in the school year and—”

Lila didn’t pay any attention to anything further of Damocles’s prattling and barely even noticed the way everyone else in the classroom cheered and showered Marinette in congratulations and praise.

Nobody paid much attention to Lila for the rest of the school day. Which was just as well, as it allowed her to skip out and storm back home.

Where she found Norm. Sunbathing on her balcony. And messing with her laptop.

He only noticed she was there when she slammed the door open.

“What?” He snarked. “Not what you wanted?”

“Undo it. NOW.”

“You sure?” He asked. “I mean, she’ll still be gone. There’ll be no one to call out your depressingly obvious lies. And with her not being around as much, your little followers are bound to lose touch with her over time and be all yours to screw with.”

“The point is for her to be miserable! UNDO IT!”

The next day, it was with some disappointment as Marinette informed her classmates that while the school had wanted her, the school only had limited slots and apparently the men who came to interview her hadn't been aware the vacancy had already been filled.

"It was still a bit too early for me to start there anyway." Marinette added. "I double checked, and they're a fully fledged lycee. They were apparently figuring I could skip ahead a grade and start there sooner."

"Weird."

"But impressive!"

"Yeah, you totally deserve it, dudette!"

"You'll just have to try for next year." Alya said, moving to wrap an arm around Marinette’s shoulder. “But I’m glad you’ll be with us for a while longer.”

Marinette smiled back, happy and relieved. “Yeah!”

Lila glared at the happy group from around a corner.

So this fell through. But next time would work.

She was smarter than some shut-in genie. She was bound to find a way to make a wish that would give her exactly what she wanted.

And when she did…

Lila smirked.

Ladybug would be as good as gone.

[shydragonrider]

Torn - Part 1

Summary: Strife had always been untouchable, arrogant, and ruthless. A vicious Supervillian. It took more than Pandora, or Glory, as she was called in public, knew she had in her to bring him down. But this sets in motion events that Hero could never have imagined.

Warnings: Detailed death threat, swearing, name calling, vomit,  extremely violent whump, vivisection, smug whumpee breaking, infection, graphic infection, fever, delirium, panic, scared whumpee, sick whumpee, begging, crying, restraints, violent torture.

Tagging @whumpwillow, because I saw the idea on her blog, and @equestrianwritingsstuff, who encouraged me to write this.

Update, changed their names

“I’ll kill you for this, you little bitch.” Strife snarled, as he was dragged towards the prison transport. “When I get my hands on you, I will break you, body and spirit.”

You already have. Pandora thought, as he was dragged into the truck. She was breathing hard, her heart racing, her body bruised and battered from the fight. She could barely stand up, and she had come so close to dying in that fight. forty-five minutes of being thrown around by that brute. She wanted to cry. She’d been so scared the whole time, so scared that one of his custom made knives would find one of her vital organs, and tear the life out of her.

“And then I’ll fucking strangle you.” Strife shouted, even as the doors slammed shut.

Pandora groaned, closing her eyes. She felt sick, and she knew she had at least three broken ribs.

But I finally beat you, you monster. She thought, clinging to the miracle that was her victory. They’ll lock you away, and I’ll never see you again.

It brought a little comfort when she thought of it that way. He’d never menace her again, never injure her again. The whole city was safe from him.

Pandora made her way home, limping down the rainy streets and back alleys, avoiding people as best she could. No one knew her real identity, and she didn’t want that to change.

When she got inside, it took all of her effort not to faint right there in the front hall. Shivering, she climbed the steps, and made it into the bathroom. She staggered over to the sink, and threw up. Exhausted, she rinsed the sink, and climbed into the shower, watching as blood from various cuts washed down the drain.

*********

Damian growled, tugging against the restraints on his arms. If that little brat Glory hadn’t stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong, then he wouldn’t be in this situation.

Insufferable little twit. She’ll pay for this. He thought, watching as his jailer picked up one of his knives.

“Be careful, they’re sharp.” Damian sneered, feeling only the faintest flicker of alarm as the man walked towards him, and placed the tip of the blade at his solar plexus.

“Oh, I’m aware.” The man replied, pressing ever so slightly.

Damian hissed as blood began to run out of the small cut. “If this is meant to scare me-”

“It’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to break you.” His captor smiled, and dug the knife in deeper, before tugging it down. Damian gasped, trying to squirm away. The restraints made it impossible. As the knife continued its downward path, Damian screamed, again trying to thrash around. By the time his captor drew back, the cut extended from his solar plexus to below his naval.

The man walked over to a table with various metal tools, and selected something that looked like it came from a medieval torture chamber. Unfortunately, Damian could guess its purpose; to hold the wound open.

“N-no.” He stammered, overwhelmed by the terror and pain. “No, p-plea...please. Y-you c-can’t do this.”

“You don’t seem to be in any position to stop me.” The man noted, and got back to his work.

**********

1 week later

********

The phone rang at three in the morning. Groaning, Pandora answered it.

“Mmmmf?” She mumbled, still half asleep. Had she not been, she would have realized that this was the untraceable phone the police sometimes called her from. That sank in the moment a quiet voice spoke.

“Glory? Is this Glory?

Pandora sighed. “Yes, this is Glory.”

“You have to get Strife out of the prison.”

Oh great, a crank call.

“Why would I do that?” She asked in a low voice, the one she used in public.

“They’re torturing him. They... Glory please, they vivisected him.”

All the edges of sleep vanished, and Pandora bolted up.

“They. Did. What?” She asked.

“Vivisected him. I saw it happen.”

“Who are you?”

“A prison nurse.” Came the hushed voice. “Please, he’s unguarded. You could get in through the window. Cell 10. Isolation. Oh, please come.”

With that, the line went dead.

Hero frowned. It could be a trap, but if it wasn’t she couldn’t leave Strife to be tortured, no matter how much she hated him.

After setting fire to an empty wing of the ward to create a distraction, she did end up climbing in the window, which, thankfully, was on the first floor, and sneaking down the hall of the isolation ward until she came to cell ten.

Carefully, she wired the code box on the door, and it slid open. As she entered the dimly lit room, she carefully covered the camera with her jacket.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she took in the sight of the supervillain.

He was lying on his back, very thoroughly restrained. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his trembling body drenched in sweat. His eyes were open, staring at nothing.

“Shit.” Pandora breathed, and crept closer, feeling nausea rise in her throat as she saw the crudely stitched wound on Strife’s abdomen. It was oozing both blood and pus.

“Hey.” Pandora murmured, gently placing her hand on his wrist.

The man whimpered, trying to pull away.

“No.” He whined, drawing the word out until it was more of a whimper.

“Ssssshhhh. Sssssshhhh, it’s alright.” Pandora soothed, and began undoing the restraints.

“Saving your nemesis dear?” A voice asked. Pandora whipped around, drawing her gun.

The man facing her looked ordinary enough, except for his eyes. They were soulless, empty.

“Saving someone who needs my help.”

“He’s a menace.”

“And you cut him open. Tore him apart.” Pandora snarled. At the words, Strife began to sob, begging incoherently.

“And you’re next.” The man said, picking up a scalpel.

“Think so?” Pandora asked sweetly, and squeezed the trigger of the tranquilizer gun. The bolt hit the man square in the neck, and he staggered backwards. Taking advantage of his shock, Pandora used the butt of the gun to hit him over the head. He fell to the floor, unconscious, and Pandora quickly returned to the delirious supervillain’s side.

Senseless with fever, he moaned and begged incoherently as she freed him from the leather straps.

Carefully, she wheeled the stretcher he was lying on over to the door, and down the empty hall. It seemed that most of the guards were still occupied with her distraction, and Pandora was able to sneak out the emergency exit with Strife.

Finally, she carefully got him into her car, and laid him on the back seat, careful not to aggravate the massive wound on his stomach any more than it was already.

With a heavy heart, she drove home.

Parking in the garage, she carefully hauled Strife inside, and tried to carry him up the stairs, in the end, she had to drag him, though his squeaks of pain made her stomach twist.

Finally, she hauled him into the guest bed, and examined his mutilated stomach.

“Plea...se.” Strife moaned. “No... more...”

“Sssshhh. It’s alright now. I’m going to fix... this.”

[mochacoffee]

I created a 3D model and floor plan of Aziraphale’s bookshop in Good Omens!

I really wanted one for reference and it seemed like many others did too, so I put together my best approximation of where everything is. Beneath the color version, you’ll see I’ve included two simplified, labeled versions of the plan. The verbal labels are so you know what the object is. The numerical labels are there to make it easy to find more information about the object. I’ve put a numbered index below the cut that features the relevant reference images I used for each object and some more information about why I put it where I did/why it’s relevant/etc. I want to be very clear that I did not add anything to this from my own imagination; every single item and feature represents something I actually saw in the shop.

If you have any questions or want more information about this, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask! I put so much time into figuring it out and I would be more than happy to be a resource for anyone who needs it. Also, if you notice any errors, let me know and I’ll update the post. I hope this is helpful!

Update: Here’s a link to an interactive view of the shop! It takes a moment to load. You can click the “3D” tab in the top right to view it in first person and walk around inside. Double click a spot on the floor to move there and pan around by clicking and dragging. The oval symbol next to the person walking gives you a birds-eye view.

Update 2: Here’s a higher quality rendering of the first person perspective! Update 3: I made an alternate first person render here complete with a ceiling, light fixtures, and ambient lighting from outside. This one is optimized for making it seem more like you’re actually there, whereas the previous one is for maximum visibility. This render also has some minor accuracy improvements, which are detailed under the cut in the relevant sections. (The first interactive link with the birds-eye view updates automatically.) Update 4: In case you’re interested in Aziraphale’s books specifically, I’ve made a catalogue of those here.

1. Unknown closet

Images

There is a door behind Gabriel when he talks to Aziraphale in the backroom. So where does it lead? Well. The wall we can see behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop (see #17: boxes/storage) doesn’t have a door in it. It’s also facing the wrong direction and it’s in the middle of the southwest wall ⁠— we know this because Aziraphale can see Shadwell in the entrance from there. So the wall behind him at that moment is definitely not the wall of the backroom. We’re left with this door and unaccounted-for corner. The only thing that makes sense to me then is that there’s a closet there between the two spaces. My personal theory is that this closet is “the back” that Aziraphale refers to keeping the Châteauneuf-du-Pape in since I didn’t see any other obvious alcohol storage space in the shop. Update: @n0nb1narydemon has suggested this could be a bathroom for guests or because culturally it’s a room you can use to extricate yourself from situations, which is another possibility! They also asked where I think the doors behind object #20 lead, and I thought it would be good to add here that they might lead to the shop next door or to this unknown room. It’s possible the room actually extends further into the next shop and encompasses the part of the wall where the doors are, but I didn’t have concrete evidence to support that idea so I didn’t include it in the floor plan. Update: I was wrong about the Châteauneuf-du-Pape! In the DVD bookshop tour we learn that the cabinet in the top left corner of the backroom is where Aziraphale keeps his alcohol, including that particular wine. I added a reference photo of Neil pointing it out. Thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomens​ for bringing the existence of this tour to my attention — ya girl got the special edition blu-ray even though I don’t have a blu-ray player yet so I hadn’t actually seen it. Also, there is a chair right next to this cabinet against the wall which I missed in my initial rendering of the shop but have since added.

2. Part of shop next door (top right)

Images

This was very tricky to figure out because you can see from the exterior of the shop that there is no wall past the back door, but from the interior there is clearly more space there. BUT in a behind the scenes photo of David during the fire scene, you can see on this back wall that there’s actually a nook with two large entryways, similar to the one that makes up the backroom. From the exterior you can see that the area next to the back door is taken up by the window of the next shop, so I concluded that this little square of space was not part of the bookshop’s interior, but the nook did extend further back than where the shop appears to end from the outside. I had to make one bookshelf more nubby than the others to make this work, but after a LOT of trial and error I decided one nubby bookshelf was the only thing that could explain the apparent architecture of the space. Any floor design that accounted for a bookshelf of the same length as the others just did not make sense on a fundamental level.

3. Part of shop next door (bottom left)

Images

From the exterior of the shop you can see that this window belongs to the adjacent store, as the wall is a different color. Within the bookshop you can also see when Gabriel and Sandalphon enter the backroom, there’s no window behind them; there’s a sink. So it’s definitely not Aziraphale’s window. The wall of the backroom is also further into the shop’s interior than the wall Aziraphale’s desk sits against, so there’s a corner of space inside that’s unaccounted for. At first I assumed it was plumbing from the sink that had been sealed off or something, but when I realized that’s where the window was on the outside, I figured the space is probably part of the next shop over.

4. Aziraphale’s desk

Images

This is where Aziraphale sits in the shop like 90% of the time. It’s on the Eastern side of the shop because Aziraphale was the guardian of the Eastern gate in Eden and because production designer Michael Ralph is a goddamn genius (source). Shout out to @posted-omens for this fascinating post analyzing the chariot sculpture on his desk. Update: Fun fact, the ladder behind his desk is actually called a library chair, supposedly designed by Benjamin Franklin. It functions as a ladder but you can also fold it into a chair! Neil mentions this in the DVD extra bookshop tour. I added screen caps of it to the reference photos above since I don’t have a specific section for the ladders!

5. Phone Aziraphale calls Crowley from

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I will be honest with you: I think there’s something a little fucked up about this corner. It is my nemesis. I tried so many things to make it work and I just could not get it exactly right, but what you see in the floor plan is my best guess as to what’s going on. The conundrum is that the spot where Aziraphale stands when he’s on the phone with Crowley is definitely closer to the fence around the staircase than it is in my layout. But the table he’s in front of is also clearly against the outside wall of the backroom, and the stairs being where I’ve put them here is the only thing that made sense based on the reference photos. So there’s some weird spacing issue where there’s a little too much room between the fence around the stairs and this phone. If I were to move the walls to close that gap then there would be way too much space in the backroom and way too little space on the southwest side of the shop, so I think the walls are correct as they are. So  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. What I can say for certain is that the phone is there and it’s on a table next to a lamp, and the table is definitely against the wall of the backroom and behind the staircase. The distance between these things doesn’t hold up perfectly, but their arrangement does. On another note, this is one of two phones in the shop. The other is on the table next to the cash register (see #9) which Aziraphale picks up when Crowley calls to say they need to talk about Armageddon. I believe this is the same one he uses to call Adam’s house in episode two, only he moves it from the table by the register to the top of a pile of books (which I’m pretty sure were stacked on the circular table between his desk and the sofa). Update: OKAY SO it turns out in the behind-the-scenes bookshop tour on the DVD we get two more teeny tiny glimpses of this corner! I added them to the reference photo album above. It appears I was right about the lamp, phone, and bookshelf being where they are, except that the bookshelf and table are touching. There’s also a ladder propped against the shelf. I’d say it’s possible there are actually two bookshelves here; based on the parallax in the DVD tour, the one next to the phone didn’t appear to be against the wall, but we know there is a bookshelf against that wall because we see it in the show. (P.S. There’s also another chair against that wall which I didn’t see because Aziraphale was standing in front of it, so I added that too.) This leads me to believe there’s one against the wall and another one further from it next to the table. But that’s just my speculation, so I won’t change the actual floor plan unless I find more evidence.

6. Where they’re drinking when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound

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When Aziraphale sits down at this table, the background is of the same space he refers to as the “backroom” when Gabriel and Sandalphon show up. He’s across the table from Crowley, behind whom you can see a bookshelf, the staircase, and the coat rack. The table is half in the backroom half out, since the room has two large entryways in its wall. Update: I realized the wall behind this table actually dips back further! It is a weirdly-shaped wall! But in the DVD special tour of the bookshop Neil walks past it and there’s clearly an area that recesses even further, so I’ve modified that in the interactive floor plan :)

7. Bench of books that start the fire

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When Shadwell leaves the book shop and slams the door, one of the candles knocks over and rolls into a pile of books and other papers (including the Sound of Music lmao). You can see it’s the same bench the customer is standing in front of when he gives Gabriel a weird look after he yells about pornography. (I love this customer so much because they gave me a super HD shot of this particular area.) The poles of the fence around the bench, the staircase behind it, and the smaller shelves beside it holding Terry Pratchett’s books make it clear that the bench is in that spot in the shop and that it’s the place the fire starts.

8. Coat rack with Terry’s hat on it

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Aziraphale hangs his coat here right before Crowley calls him to say they need to talk about Armageddon. Out of focus in the frame you can see the lion sculpture that sits on the fence surrounding the stairs (see #11) and a bookshelf. The camera pans past the shelf and we see him walk past his desk to pick up the phone by the cash register, which puts that shelf right next to his sitting area. We can also see the coat rack in the background when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound. The coat rack has Terry Pratchett’s hat and scarf on it in his honor (source).

9. Antique cash register

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You can see this register in the background when Crowley is on the couch and when Aziraphale invites Gabriel and Sandalphon into the backroom. I know it’s an antique cash register because it’s photographed and referenced directly on page 79 of the Good Omens TV Companion. It’s a typewriter in my floor plan because the website I used (floorplanner.com), who knows why, did not have a 3D model of a cash register from the early 1900s.

10. Back door

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Thank you so much to @fuckyeahgoodomens for this post where they figured all this out!! Wonderful work! You can see this door from the exterior of the shop and its existence is referenced in the Good Omens script book on page 94. It’s also in the background of a behind the scenes shot of Aziraphale pulling away the carpet so he can contact heaven. Behind him in that shot you can see the bust (which moves around a lot - see #19) and a grandfather clock, and in the show from one of the aerial shots you can see that the carpet is pulled west, further confirming the door’s location.

11. Fence around the stairs

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I have concluded that this is a fence to keep customers from going up to the second floor. It looks to be made of golden pillars with wooden shelving atop them. The fence crosses beneath the staircase on one side and the other side ends about where the stair’s railing does. You can see this fence behind Crowley when he realizes Adam has named the hellhound, behind Aziraphale when he calls Crowley to tell him he knows where the antichrist is, and next to the customer who gives Gabriel a look after he yells “PORNOGRAPHY!” It’s also visible in one of the aerial shots of the shop. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I noticed the lion sculpture on this fence is not just a lion, but a lion with a woman holding its mane. I think it might also be a lamp? In one of the reference photos, the one that looks down from the second floor, it appears there’s a light in the woman’s other hand. I’d be interested to see if we can track down what this particular sculpture is and what it might mean. Update: @cantdewwrite has suggested here that the light/sculpture could be a replica of one of the bronze statues in the Victoria Memorial, which does look quite similar. I’m fairly certain Aziraphale’s sculpture is of a woman, which would make it the figure in the memorial representing peace.

12. Open book of illustrated story of Adam and Eve

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Shout out to @amuseoffyre for this post where she figured out what this was! Update: I’ve determined that this book is The Gospel in the Old Testament: A series of pictures by Harold Copping. The painting is, naturally, by Harold Copping. It’s called “Adam and Eve after the fall.” Unfortunately this book is out of print and I haven’t been able to track down an ebook or scan of it, so I can’t confirm the text just yet. But based on its premise, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s telling the story of Adam and Eve directly. Aziraphale has a second copy of this book visible on the shelf next to the sofa.

13. Antique computer

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This is the computer Aziraphale does his extremely scrupulous taxes with, as confirmed in this ask that @neil-gaiman answered from @prismatic-bell! It’s an Amstrad, according to the bookshop tour in the DVD extras.

14. Spiral staircase

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These stairs are in many shots of the shop so it was pretty obvious where they were.

15. Sink, teapots, etc.

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You can see this wall right before Gabriel walks into the backroom and behind Aziraphale when he’s drinking with Crowley at the end of episode one. It appears he has two hand towels, a ceramic angel soap dish (aw), some teapots, and a decorated box above it, among other things. On the floor beside the sink is what I believe to be a broom handle, though it could be a mop? Next to that is a bronze statue of an angel atop a small table piled with books. On the other side of the sink is an open book on a stand ⁠— it has a fabric bookmark in it with a crucifix at the end, so I’m assuming it’s a bible. Light reading while you make your tea I guess. Update: Thank you so much to @brightwanderer for pointing out in this post that he has four extra angel wing mugs above the sink as well! I couldn’t figure out what they were! Update: Neil said in this ask that you can see an oven by the sink when Gabriel and Sandalphon walk in. Which you can! It’s real small and there’s a little pot on top of it. I’ve added a screencap of it to the images album for this area. Update: I’m donating my heart and soul to @ack-emma for suggesting in the replies to this ask that the central object above the sink is a samovar!! I had never heard of this so I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I think they hit the nail on the head. Y’all Aziraphale really likes tea.

16. Sculpture

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Thank you @ineffable-endearments, @behold-my-squeees, @srebrnafh, @aethelflaedladyofmercia for contributing to this post about the statue and its potential symbolism! Update: @doctorscienceknowsfandom has added some analysis to the post above suggesting that this is a sculpture of Paris, the figure from Greek mythology. I’m inclined to agree! Update: BINGO! @tifaria​ has found Aziraphale’s exact statue (confirmed Paris!) in this post. Brilliant work!! This community continues to blow me away. Further discussion about the sculpture’s meaning in the context of the show here — be sure to check the notes for further commentary.

17. Boxes/storage

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These boxes and piles of books can be seen behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop and behind Crowley while he’s rambling drunkenly about why they should stop Armageddon in episode one. They’re in a nook that goes further back than where the shop appears to end from its exterior (see #2 for more info on that!). 

18. Stacks of books

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You can see this stack in one of the aerial shots of Shadwell in the shop. I didn’t include most stacks of books in the floor plan because they’re literally everywhere and I had to manually set how high each book would be from the floor, so putting them in piles got tedious very quickly. But I did include a few notable ones, and this is one of those imo because there’s not much else in that area as far as I can tell.

19. Bust

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This little guy moves around quite a bit, unlike most things in the shop. In some photos/scenes it’s where I put it on the floor plan, but in others it’s closer to the northwestern wall and in this 360 video of the shop it’s right between two of the columns. I chose to put it where I did because it’s there in the scene where Crowley is drunkenly rambling about Armageddon, whereas the other locations I’ve seen it in were from behind the scenes shots and stuff. I’m not sure who the bust is of! It appears to have a little ribbon with a medal around its next though. Update: More speculation about the bust here, courtesy of @aethelflaedladyofmercia! Update: @fuckyeahgoodomens has confirmed in this post that the thing around the bust’s neck is the medal given to Aziraphale by Gabriel in this deleted scene!

20. Divider I think?

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Please for the love of god if you know what this thing is, tell me. My best guess is it’s a room divider because what else looks like that?? But I don’t know why you would put a room divider there. And it still doesn’t look exactly like a divider either. But the decorative element at the top and apparent gap between the metal frame and the red bit leads me to believe it’s not furniture or a box. This mystery object is my second nemesis after the weird corner (#5). Update: @brightwanderer has suggested that it might be an embroidered/tapestry draft screen, which I think makes more sense! Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I found a very brief image of this item over Neil’s shoulder which I added to the reference photos above. I think by some miracle I was right and it is a divider. It could be a draft screen but at the very least it is shaped like a divider with at least three sections. Wahoo!

21. Record player

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This is the phonograph that’s playing Franz Schubert’s String Quintet in C major (thank you again to @fuckyeahgoodomens for that info) when we first see Aziraphale in the shop. It also plays Queen’s You’re My Best Friend when Crowley runs into the fire.

22. Terry Pratchett’s books

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Another one of the many little Terry easter eggs in the show is this set of his books! @devoursjohnlock made a post highlighting some other specific books you can find in the shop.

23. Chess set

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I saw a post once pointing out this chess set and the implication that Aziraphale and Crowley must play together sometimes, which I thought was a really nice detail to put into the set. But I can’t find the post to credit it! I will update this with a link if I do. Update: Pretty sure this is the post I saw. Thank you to @losyanya for mentioning it :)

24. Circular entryway

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This is one of many circle motifs that production designer Michael Ralph incorporated into the shop. It’s gorgeous. I think there’s actually more room between the archway and the door than I’ve included in this floor plan; Shadwell takes a few steps through it when he runs out of the shop. But I think the fix is just the door being further out from the entryway rather than the entryway being further in. I didn’t want to fuck with the walls to improve this particular area because when I realized the spacing was wrong, I was almost done and would’ve had to manually move each object in the shop over a few inches over. Made more sense to leave the caveat in a footnote. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour you get a brief glimpse of something on the inside wall of the entryway. I think it’s a wall sconce or something along those lines. There’s one on either side. I added them to the reference album above! I also figured out how to extend the walls to accommodate some more space there without having to move everything else, so I did that. Update: Here’s a link to some meta discussion about the cupid sculpture in front of this entryway!

25. Sofa Crowley sits on when he suggests they could be godfathers

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You can see that the sofa is next to Aziraphale’s desk and the cash register, and also that there’s a bookshelf behind it. From the entrance to the shop you can see two bookshelves on either side of the central circle, so it was pretty clear that the couch was on the other side of one of those shelves.

26. Wall crucifix

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I find it very interesting that Aziraphale has this considering Jesus isn’t a big part of angelic lore or heaven’s general priorities in the show. It would make more sense to me that he has it because it’s another memento of his time with Crowley, sort of like the illustrated story of Adam and Eve by his desk (#12). Also, fun fact, the opposite side of this wall segment is where he put up all his maps and notes about the whereabouts of the Antichrist in episode three.

[babymetaldoll]

Nemesis (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Can I request a Spencer x reader where they’re dating and she’s always been quiet about her past but then a case comes up in her hometown and her whole past gets uncovered and it’s pretty bad. That’s when they realize why she had been acting like that.

Summary: A case takes the team back to Seattle, (Y/N)’s hometown, only to discover her past was darker than they had ever imagined. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader 

Warnings: This one is dark. Angst, bloody crime details, Criminal Mind usual content, fluff at the end ‘cos I can’t help it. Also, cursing but that’s just how I roll. 

Word count: 2,7K 

Masterlist

- 

It was obvious there was something wrong with (Y/N). Spencer could see it clearly, though she kept telling him everything was ok. It was easy to read her after working together for five years and dating the last two.

Reid knew he shouldn’t profiler his girlfriend, but he couldn’t help it when he saw the painful expression on her face. She tried to smile when she noticed he was looking at her, but that just made it worse ‘cos now he was sure there was something awfully wrong with her. 

She wasn’t like that when they woke up. She had spent the night over in his apartment, and she looked happy. She made hotcakes for breakfast, and they laughed the whole way to Quantico, talking about the movie they had seen the night before. 

But everything changed the second they received the information of the serial killer they had to catch. 

-

When Garcia presented the case, Spencer noticed how his girlfriend’s face turned white. She didn’t even look at the pictures of the crime scenes. (Y/N) fixed her eyes on her notebook on the table and crossed her arms on her chest. She didn’t speak during the briefing, just bite her lips and the inside of her cheeks the whole time.

- “Today, my dear furry friends, you will be flying to (Y/N) ’s hometown, rainy Seattle, for a case that will give me nightmares for the rest week, so I refuse to look at the screen”

(Y/N) held her breath and stayed as still as possible on her chair. 

- “The unsub is targeting couples in their late thirties. He stabs them to death in their bed, places the bodies as if they were asleep, and forces the kids to lay between them. Then, he locks them in the house until they manage to escape”.

Hotch sighed and looked at the team. Family-related cases always were the hardest for him and J.J. Especially when there were kids involved. 

- “The police department asked for our help because they think it might be related to four unsolved murders that took place in Seattle back in the nineties”-

Garcia finished. Hotch stood up and announced, “wheels up in twenty”, and everybody left the room. Everybody but (Y/N), who couldn’t move. 

- “Hey… are you ok?”- Spencer stood in front of her chair and held her hands. She just nodded and tried her best to smile. 

- “I’m just tired, honey, that’s all. It’s been a long week”. 

- “You can tell me if there’s anything wrong, buttercup, you know that”- she tried to smile and stood up. Spencer cupped her face with both hands and kissed her lips sweetly. 

(Y/N) held her breath for a few seconds, making her best not to cry. When he looked at her, she cut him a small smile, trying to show him everything was ok. 

Of course, it was not. 

Neither Spencer nor anyone in the BAU knew (Y/N) ’s secret. She didn’t want to share it with anyone ‘cos it meant everybody would pity her, and she couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t deal with people looking at her like she was a victim. She hated it when it happened back in her hometown, and she knew she couldn’t handle it if their BAU family looked at her like that.

That case hurt her deeper than she could ever explain, and she wasn’t sure she could keep the secret that was killing her alive for much longer. 

-

During the trip, she barely looked at the files. Spencer sat next to her, trying to comfort her. He knew she wouldn’t tell him what was happening, but he wanted to be by her side. He wanted her to know he was there for her, no matter what. 

(Y/N) knew that, but of all people, he was the last one she wanted to share her secret with. She was too embarrassed and too scared he could run away. She was also too damaged, and she had, somehow, managed to cover her wounds for all those years. 

But now, everything was collapsing, and she knew it could only get worse from there. 

- “Morgan, you and Reid talk with the forensic. We need every detail on the killer’s M.O.”- Hotch said as soon as they landed in Seattle- “(Y/N), you and Prentiss talk with the family of the latest victims. JJ, Rossi, we will speak with the police chief and see the previous investigation files”. 

(Y/N)’ s heart stopped for a second. She held her folder fight and nodded, making her best not to show her whole body started shaking. 

Spencer could read it, (Y/N) was hiding something, and it wasn’t something good. He leaned in and kissed her temple and held her hand tight. 

- “Do you want me to go with you? I can ask Hotch…” 

- “No, honey”- she whispered, shaking her head- “I’m ok”

- “Sure”- she nodded and pecked his lips- “I’ll see you back at the police station, ok?”

-

Prentiss was doing all the talking. (Y/N) could barely breathe in that interview. A thirteen years old little girl sat on a couch, nearly crying, holding her grandmother’s hand tight, as if her life depended on it. 

-” I know this is hard, and you are doing great, Kristy. I need you to close your eyes and tell me, what do you remember of that night”. 

Without even notice, (Y/N) did the same. 

- “Mom and dad stayed up after I went to bed. I heard them talking in the kitchen when I went to the bathroom” 

- “What time was it?”- Prentiss whispered 

- “Eleven… eleven-thirty”

- “And do you remember anything odd? anything that didn’t look right?”- Kristy stayed in silence. You could tell she was doing her best to remember. 

- “The neighbor’s dog was barking“

- “Ok, good”- Prentiss praised- “You are doing great, anything else? A smell, a noise?” 

- “I heard something in the closet in the hall, like… like someone was chuckling, so I got scared and ran back to my room”- Kristy was agitated, and tears started falling down her cheeks. (Y/N) held her hands and looked at her, whispering. 

- “You had heard that chuckle before, hadn’t you?”- and the girl nodded. 

- “But your parents told you you were too old to believe in the boogie man, right?”- (Y/N) continued, fighting her own tears.

- “(Y/N)?”- Prentiss was confused

- “It’s not your fault-” (Y/N) whispered and wrapped her arms around the girl, who now started sobbing- “You have to understand it’s not your fault. He wanted you to be scared”. 

- “(Y/N), what are you talking about?”- Prentiss asked her but still didn’t get any answer. 

- “Kristy, this is important. Do you remember if a stranger had been in your house in the last week?”- but the girl just shook her head- “He may have said his car broke down, or he was lost” 

- “A man came last Wednesday”- the girl whispered, still crying- “He said he needed help with his car… dad borrowed him some tools and helped him change his tire”

(Y/N) nodded and looked at Prentiss. 

- “That’s the guy” 

- “How do you know?”- Emily was confused. Not only because tears kept falling from (Y/N) ’s eyes, but because of her deduction. 

- “Believe me, that’s the guy. I’m gonna call Hotch”. 

- “(Y/N)! Wait!”- Prentiss ran after her friend and followed her back to the SUV- “What the hell happened back there?”

- “What do you mean?”- the young agent tried to act as if nothing had happened. Which was impossible, but still, she gave it a shot. 

- “You knew something about this case! You knew the girl had heard the unsub before, how?”

(Y/N) stayed still and just looked at her friend, took a deep breath, and lied. 

- “We studied this case back in the academy. Some of the kids said they had heard a chuckling the days before the murder”

Prentiss frowned. She had read that case over and over again, and she knew that information wasn’t in any file. But it was apparent (Y/N) didn’t want to talk about it. 

-

Against all odds, (Y/N) managed to go through the day, keeping herself as calm as possible. After talking with Kristy, she and Prentiss reached the police station. Spencer was waiting for her with a hot cup of her favorite coffee. Just what she needed. He held her hand and kissed it as they walked to the rest of the team. 

- “How are you feeling, buttercup?”

- “I’m tired...”- she sighed and looked into his chocolate eyes. They were filled with love for her. The kind of love that made her feel no matter what, everything was going to be ok.  

- “When we are back home, I’ll run you a bubble bath. Would you like that?”

- “I would love that, honey” 

-

They delivered a profile, which confirmed it was the same killer as in the nineties. A white man. Now in his late fifties. His parents had committed suicide when he was thirteen. He was left alone with the corpses for three days until a neighbor contacted the police because of the smell. As he grew up, his trauma led him to kill couples around his parents’ age, with a single kid the same age as he was when he died. 

- “Hey baby girl, I need you to help me find this unsub”- Morgan called Garcia as the whole team gathered around the board. It was late, and they were all tired, but they didn’t want to give the unsub the chance to kill again. 

- “I need you to run me a list of all the prisoners in the area who were released a month ago, that’s when the crimes started”

- “You are gonna have to give me something else, chocolate thunder. Do you have any kind of idea how many people are released weekly from jail?”

- “Ten thousand”- Spencer answered and kept his eyes stuck at the board- “Garcia, he is around fifty, white, and had been in jail approximately thirteen or fourteen years”. 

(Y/N)’ s heart was beating so fast inside her chest she thought anyone could hear it. Her legs were shaking, her eyes were watering up. But she had to keep herself together. She had to, for the team. For herself. For this case. For the victims.

- “Still too many”- Garcia said 

- “Can you see if any of them had a red truck?”- (Y/N) asked, and the whole team turned to her, confused 

- “Why a red truck?”- Hotch asked her, confused 

- “It was a theory we analyzed at the academy”- she lied again. 

- “Bingo! Sam Paterson, 53 years old, was released five weeks ago. I’m sending you his last known address right now”. 

-

- “(Y/N), I just read all the files about this case, including the cases from ’98, and they never mentioned a red truck”- Spencer asked his girlfriend. They were in the SUV, and Morgan was driving. Reid turned to the backseat to look at her, but she kept her eyes in the window. 

- “I don’t know why it wasn’t there. Maybe they dismissed part of the evidence”

Reid was afraid to ask again, so he just nodded and turned to Morgan. 

- “How long until we get there?” 

- "Two minutes. I can’t wait to catch this bastard”. 

-

The unsub was hidden in a barn at the back of his property. He had all the trophies he kept from the crime scenes: a toy from each kid’s bedroom. 

They surrounded him quickly, but he kept pointing a gun against the team. He knew he was fucked, but he wasn’t going to surrender. 

- “You are done, Sam”- Morgan tried to talk to him, but the unsub just looked at the agents around him and laughed. 

- “I was sure you were going to be the one to get me”- he said and looked at (Y/N)- “You haven’t changed a thing”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) muttered and bit her lips, trying her best not to cry. She didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her crumble. 

- (”Y/N) James, sorry, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you use your mother’s last name now”

- “Shut up!”- the gent spit those words holding her gun tight. She could shoot him. She wanted to shoot him. But she wasn’t a monster like him. She had to keep telling herself that over and over again to keep her from pulling the trigger.

The whole team looked at her in shock. James. The James was the last couple the unsub killed in ’98. Their thirteen-year-old daughter was left with their bodies for a whole day locked in the house before she managed to escape.

- “(Y/N)?”- Spencer didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe it. 

- “I always knew you were special, (Y/N)”- Sam smiled- “You were the only one who heard me. Too bad mommy and daddy laughed at you when you told them someone was walking around the house at night”

- “You are sick”- it was a miracle that (Y/N) wasn’t crying. The anger that filled her body was too powerful, and it fueled her with revenge. 

- “Maybe I am sick, but I’m also the one who knows you better than anyone”- he made a pause and looked around at the rest of the team- “Oh! They didn’t know! Why didn’t you tell them? Want me to give them the short version of the fact?”

- “You don’t know anything about me!” 

- “That’s where you are wrong. I know a lot about you, (Y/N). I hunted you and your parents for weeks. Remember that little cat that used to play in your backyard? Garfield, that’s how you called him, right?”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) was having serious trouble stopping herself from pulling that trigger. She wanted to kill him and avenge her parents. They didn’t deserve to die just because a sick bastard decided to kill them. 

- “I always wanted to ask you, how did you feel when you laid there with them? After I killed your parents, how did you feel? ‘cos when I laid with mine, I just felt such peace… Did you feel peace too? (Y/N)? did you?” 

A single gunshot was the end of Sam. Spencer put his gun down after killing him and looked at his girlfriend. She was shaking. He didn’t say a word. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her tight, just to hear her burst into tears. Tears she had been holding for years. 

- “I’m here, I’m here with you”- he whispered as he kept kissing her cheeks- “You are safe, I’ve got you, (Y/N)”

- “He… he…”- she tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Spencer held her closer, tighter, and kissed any part of her he could. Her shoulder, her head, her cheek, her hair, her temple. 

- “He’s dead, (Y/N). He is never going to hurt you again”

(Y/N) couldn’t move. She just kneeled on the floor, a few feet away from the corpse of the man that had killed her parents. Spencer held her in his arms and carried her outside. 

- “You are safe”- Reid kept repeating, and she just nodded as he sat her in the back of an ambulance

- “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you, (Y/N). Did you know that?”- Reid ran his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping off the tears that kept falling from her eyes. 

- “I will protect you, forever”

(Y/N) looked at him and quivered her chin again. She knew he meant it, and a small part of her felt relieved he knew everything now. Even the dark part she had managed to hide for years from everybody.

- “I love you so much (Y/N), and I am so proud of you. You overcame a situation that most people would never get over, and you became an amazing woman. The amazing woman I love” 

- “Thank you”- (Y/N) whispered and sobbed- “I just didn’t want to tell anyone so they wouldn’t pity me”- she said and hugged Spencer tight again, hiding her face on his chest

- “No! listen to me. I am proud of you, that’s how I feel about you, ok?”- he looked at her and kissed her cheeks sweetly- “I love you (Y/N)”

- “I love you too, Spencer. Thank you for being here”

- “Always”

[drummergirl231-2]

This fandom is funny sometimes.

For example, since the finale, I've heard people say things like: "The only complaint I have about Webby being Scrooge's daughter is that it kind of kills the message of found family - the idea that being related by love is just as good (if not better in some cases) than being related by blood."

Personally, I think it would only kill the found family narrative if they had treated Webby like she wasn't family before, and only started treating her like family when they found out they shared DNA. But they did treat her like part of the family before the finale (Scrooge's Season 1 outburst in "Last Crash" notwithstanding).

Plus, Beakley always knew Webby was a F.O.W.L. creation, and that didn't stop her from always treating Webby like her beloved granddaughter. There's a found family narrative right there. Beakley had no clue whose DNA Webby had, but that didn't matter.

Other people in the fandom have the opposite complaint: "Man, I really wish we'd found out she was made from Beakley so Beakley really would be her relative."

And to that I say: "Who says she isn't?"

Despite what fan wikis and random fan reviews say, Webby was not cloned from Scrooge. She is not Scrooge's clone. Clones are complete genetic duplicates. Just like an actual daughter, only half of Webby's DNA came from Scrooge.

Bradford needed Scrooge to have a son or daughter (not an identical twin) to displace his niece and nephew as his heir and find the Papyrus of Binding.

That being the case, Heron would have had to combine half of Scrooge's DNA with half of another distinct set of genes to create Webby.

By now it is well established that @alliterativealbatross is a proper psychic genius in this fandom. She predicted this ending two years ago (albeit with some details being off, because we didn't yet know Bradford's motives and he hadn't even been revealed as the head of F.O.W.L. yet in the show).

Al speculated F.O.W.L. created Webby as a superweapon by combining the DNA of the world's finest operatives on both sides, so according to her theory, both Agent 22 and Scrooge McDuck were in the mix, along with a few other brilliant duck agents.

I see no reason why this part can't be canon as well. Heron was always far more bent toward chaos and self-admitted villainy than Bradford. She probably thought, Well, if Bradford wants me to create a descendant of Scrooge McDuck, I might as well engineer it to be the ultimate agent for evil.

I imagine Heron played God with a few people's DNA to create a genetic code she would eventually combine with Scrooge's, and I imagine Beakley's DNA would've made up at least part of that code. Hey, the other half of Webby's genes had to come from somewhere, right? As far as choosing the best agents, no one knew what Agent 22 was capable of more than Heron, her greatest nemesis. If I were Heron, I'd want Beakley's genes in my genetic experiment. Plus there's the irony of potentially taking out her nemesis with a girl made form her own genes. Villains love irony like that.

Either way, I stan this fam. They're so cute and great.

Being related by blood in the end doesn't make this any less beautiful of a found family story, because they found each other and loved each other before they ever knew they were related by blood.

[erosia-rhodes]

Top 9 Newbie thoughts on Supernatural after Six Months of Madness

I started watching Supernatural a week before the series finale, and full disclosure, it was only because I heard about the gay angel. I loved me some Good Omens, so I decided to check out a series my only previous thoughts about had been, "Is that show still on?" In the past six months, I've watched about fifty percent of the episodes scattered across all fifteen seasons. I've also spent time following the bonkers-in-the-best-way fandom on Tumblr, and here is what I have learned:

1) Everyone who loves Supernatural also hates Supernatural

No one is capable of praising this show without also trashing it. Supernatural is as awful as it is awesome. Watching Supernatural is like hate-fucking your nemesis against a wall; you're totally conflicted about it, but it's enormously pleasurable and you know you're going to do it over and over again. No one has a pure, untainted love for this show. They only have complicated emotions. This is because…

2) The fact that the show needs to be fixed is an essential part of its appeal

Strangely, if this show were better, it wouldn't be as popular. If you love a show that is perfect, you watch it once or twice or thrice, make a bunch of memes, and move on with your life two years later when you find something else to hyper-fixate on. If you love a show that's broken, you spend the rest of your life obsessed with fixing it. It's the crooked photo hanging on the wall that yearns to be straightened (because, you know, this show is bad at making things straight). It's the stray dog you know would be adoptable if you fattened it up and socialized it with your other dogs, and just like some people can't stop rescuing animals, Supernatural fans can't stop thinking about how to fix a show that isn't great, but could be with a flea bath and a trip to the groomers. Supernatural fans are not fans of the actual show, but of the show they imagine it could be, one that only exists in an alternate universe. They are in love with the Platonic ideal of Supernatural. That's also the reason why…

3) The fans understand the characters and themes better than 95% of the people who worked on the show

The people who watch Supernatural have thought about it way, way, way, more than anyone who produced it. I have read complex essays about what the color of people's clothing imply and how the state of the Impala reflects the state of Dean's mental health and other things I'm certain this show did not do intentionally. People can find depth in the shallowest aspects of this series. Any random fan could explain the complicated dynamics of the Winchester family and the overriding themes of the series better than most of the people who worked on it. That includes the LGBTQ stuff, which leads to the fact that…

4) The show is simultaneously too gay and not gay enough

On one end of the spectrum are fans who are offended you would dare to suggest one of the Winchesters might like kissing a boy and they'll shove you in a locker and duct tape your butt cheeks together for it. On the other end of the spectrum are fans who think it's odd that every episode doesn't end with two attractive men dry humping in a dark corner of the bunker library. No one is happy with the level of gayness on this show. It's always got too much "No Homo" or too much queer subtext, which is why I've concluded that…

5) The audience this show wanted is not the audience they got and they are resentful of it

The original pitch for this show targeted a male demographic who’s into toxic masculinity in a non-ironic way. It was about bros and beers and muscle cars and shotguns and hot chicks who will be killed to further the man's storyline. However, when making that show, they accidentally created a show that attracted female viewers who liked speculating about the queer subtext of each scene while looking at pretty men with traumatic backstories fight back their man tears. The show depends on the unintended audience segment to survive, but is bitter about it, which they remind you of time and time again by killing the female and non-white characters and toying with endless queer-baiting. It's like the writers got a plane to Rome, ended up in a gay nightclub in Amsterdam instead, and even though the canals and tulips make it a lovely city to visit, they wanted to go to Rome, damnit, and they'll never let you forget it! I also suspect that…

6) The people who made this show were at constant war with each other

This show has such a split personality. Sometimes it leans into the gay stuff and other times it makes fun of it outright. Sometimes they'll introduce an interesting side character that could make the show more diverse and then they'll slaughter that person for practically no reason. Sometimes they praise free will and other times they force people down pre-destined paths. The writers feel like a dysfunctional family stuck at Thanksgiving dinner endlessly squabbling with each other—who then had to write a TV show together over dessert. That's why it's such a weird hot mess. The show's unevenness makes me think that…

7) Some people's attachment to the show can only be explained by the fact that it imprinted on them when they were young

Some fans have mentioned they started watching Supernatural when they were kids. It's a pretty common experience to go back and watch things you loved when you were a kid and realize they were…not so good. Your memories of them are far better than the reality of them, but you cling to them anyway. The shows you watch when you're young imprint on you in a way you never forget. Supernatural fans are like a baby duck who looks up at a cat and assumes it’s their mother. Then that cat slices open their poor little hearts, leaving them wounded but not dead, forever be toyed with in agony. The only relief is that…

8) The fandom is batshit insane in the best way

I started following the Supernatural fandom on Tumblr in November of 2020 and OMG, it was AH-MAZE-ING. It was total insanity. I didn't understand half of what was going on, but it was more fun than a yard full of puppies doing zoomies. People were posting detailed PowerPoint presentations theorizing how the series would end, citing extensive physical evidence like the background in Misha's hotel room. People learned election results through Supernatural memes. Destiel went canon every other week. When the Spanish dub was released, Tumblr literally crashed! Obama's Twitter was following a Destiel account. There was a Twitter wedding for Destiel on Valentine's Day, which made the one-month anniversary on Pi Day.

It's been a ride, y'all. I have no idea how you guys survived fifteen years of this. The fandom has been so much fun that I actually sat down and watched more than 100 hours of this show so I could understand everything better. It's like the show is an extension of the fandom instead of vice versa. If anything sums up Supernatural for me, that's it. It's all about the fandom and the show is secondary to that. It's like the fans willed the show into existence as part of some partially botched spell. And part of that twisted spell is that…

9) The show will never die until someone finds its bones and burns them

This show has been off the air for more than six months now and it keeps trending on Tumblr consistently. Misha recently trended on Twitter simply because he was at the Oscars. That was it! He didn't even do anything there, he just attended, and some people figured it out by the reflection in a photo posted by someone else! And just as I was proofreading this post, Destiel started trending again because John Cena is a stan or something? This fandom is crazy and unpredictable and I love it like Dean loves pie! If there ever does come a time when this show stops trending, that will be the moment when they decide to reboot it or revisit it.

There is a lot more I could say about this show, but these were the elements that seemed most unique and bizarre about it. I wouldn't say Supernatural is a ride-or-die fandom for me, and I have no intention of watching another 100 hours of this series, but it's been hella' fun to drop in for a while. The show is just as much a dysfunctional mess as the Winchester family and I guess that's why people love it, right?

[stellocchia]

Okay, time for another overly long analysis of our favourite green blob with a god complex and traumatized teen!

I will be discussing both the “Trapped in prison with Dream” stream and the “Am I dead?” stream as I think they should be analyzed together, so espect spoilers for those. It also goes without saying that, from here on out, unless stated otherwise, I’ll be talking about the characters and the roleplay only!

So here we go! More under the cut and be advised that this will be a long one!

First of all it’s essential to keep in mind that Dream’s view of his relationship with Tommy is extremely different from Tommy’s. I will be going more into details as the analysis proceeds, but it’s very clear by now that Dream is under the delusion that Tommy’s attachment to him is as strong as his for Tommy. 

We have multiple examples of this, but the strongest one (until the revival stream at least) was back in the season 2 finale when he kept believing that Tommy wouldn’t kill him as he wouldn’t kill Tommy. We also have instances like him saying “exile wasn’t that bad, you had me” and his insistence on them having “so much fun together” that all point to the conclusion of Dream believing their game is played on both side.

Tommy, on the other hand, made it abundantly clear that he despises Dream entirely. He recognizes that Dream actively makes him a worse person when they’re together and he recognizes that he abused and manipulated him along with many others. Tommy doesn’t reciprocate Dream’s obsession in the slightest and actually seems extremely taken aback any time the green man proposes the idea of them being a theme. 

On that last point it’s interesting to notice that the actual idea of them working together (Tommy and Dream vs the world style) is actually something new that Dream introduced with his stay in prison. Proposing they could “escape tigether” when they first ended up stuck there and even more in the two latest streams... Dream’s interpretation of their relationship seems to have shifted from “fated nemesis who have fun together” to “friends”. No, this is not a positive shift, and I’m not framing it as one. Dream’s idea of friendship is as twisted as can be and Tommy has zero say in the matter. 

Now that the introduction is done, let’s get to the actual analysis!

Trapped in prison with Dream

So the stream starts with Tommy trying his best to annoy the Hell out of Dream. Then PussBoy is introduced... 

One thing to point out is that Tommy seems to fear silence and lonliness over everything (as we’ll see proof of later on), so it’s honestly no surprise that he would not be able to bear the silence for too long. 

“The cat is the best thing that’s happened to us” Dream is already sort of shifting from the “me” talk to the “us” talk, which is rather interesting. That also mirrors his “You being stuck here is the best thing that’s happened to me since I got to prison” statement.

Then there is the interaction with Sam where he decided to leave Tommy in there longer in order to solve the issue. We also get a very rare instance of Tommy showing a lot of his vulnerability, talking about exile (though it’s clear he doesn’t know Sam knows as much as he does about exile), which promptly gets ignored in favour of Sam continuing to work on the security issue.

A few seconds after Sam left Dream already burns the new clock. The reason he’s doing it is obviously to keep Tommy in a more vulnerable state of mind by continiously insuring he has no way to tell how much time has passed. All the while acting like it’s no big deal of course. Like his actions aren’t deliberate.

“What if we get out together?” “No, no! Because then you’ll break out with me, I don’t want you to break out with me” Dream already gave a similar proposition when they had just got stuck together and, again, the reason why this is so important, is because it seems to indicate a shift in Dream’s mind between the “me vs you” mentality to the “me and you vs the rest”. 

There is then the whole debacle with PussBoy where he’s killed. There isn’t really much reaction from Dream for it (really, Tommy shows more panic about it then Dream does any emotion. Please people, re-watch that scene and stop using the damn cat as a motivator there). “Look Tommy, I’m gonna get out” is literally his only reaction. That and saying that Tommy is and always has been his motivator: “You motivated me, well, you motivate me all the time”. It really couldn’t be clearer here.

“I’ll get out and, when I do, I’ll get my revenge” (...) “On who” “On everyone who’s wronged me” “Oh on fucking everyone won’t you! You’ll go and you’ll kill fucking... you wouldn’t kill anyone would you? You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t kill someone (long pause)... of course you fucking would...” Now, why did I highlight this whole thing? Well, because there’s a lot to unpack here. 

1) Dream is still fully of the idea that he was in the right, hence his desire to get revenge on “those who wronged him”. His mentality has not shifted at all so we can conclude, once and for all, that his “meek” act during most of the visit was indeed just that: an act. 

2) Callback to Tommy saying he feels like his brain is “wired to be Dream’s friend”, despite having already been killed 2 times by Dream, Tubbo more recently almost dying to him and knowing what he is capable of in general, it still takes him quite a bit to remember that yes, Dream would kill someone, he would hurt people. Tommy still has a hard time admitting to what happened to him and the impact Dream has had on him and he’s not entirely out of Dream’s manipulation (once again, good representation, because you don’t heal from something like that in a month), he is however now better at recognizing it and correcting his own faulty thinking. 

“I have a plan” I did not notice this on first watch, but was Dream’s plan to send Tommy to the afterlife from the start? Or, at least, to send someone there so he could study it? It could very well have been. He’s shown in the next stream that he wanted talk to Schlatt immediately asking Tommy about him once he was back. We can’t however ignore that he mentione that “someone who owes him a favour” may be a part of his escape plan, so that feels rather important for the future once he’ll have brought Willbur back to life. 

So then there is more of fight that start. Dream is getting annoyed at Tommy’s “whining” and tries to make him see things from his perspective (aka “it’s not so bad because we have each other” again with the trying to establish their “friendship”). 

“You don’t have ME, you never have ME, we don’t have each other, alright? I am me and you are this fucking looser who goes around manipulating people and lying to get what he wants” What this is is 2 things: 

1) Tommy recognizing what Dream is trying to do, the subtext of what he’s saying and refuting his claims (hurray for the bit of healing he’s had!)

2) Tommy actually recognizing the possessive side of the claims Dream keeps making. I don’t see this talked about that much, but, to Dream, Tommy is most definitely his propriety, just like Tommy’s disks were Dream’s in his mind (remember that speach? He literally referred to them as “my disks”). I mean, he clearly acts like that’s the case, enphasizing time and time again how he has absolute power over Tommy (I’ll go a bit more into it towards the end of the analysis of the other stream, for now though, keep this in mind)

“Even when I’m in here I’m more powerful then you are when you are outside” back on the theme of Dream’s God Complex I see. He seems to like showing off as often as he can “how powerful he is and how powerless Tommy is” (in Dream’s words from the season 2 finale), though that’s most probably to keep enforcing the dynamic that he already established in exile, the whole thing with Tommy being entirely dependent on Dream. He seems to like that aspect of their dynamic as he has expressed multiple times his appreciation for that specific period of time. 

“If I wanted to, right now, I could just kill you. And the only reason I’m NOT is because of my friends, for Tubbo, because WE need that fucking revive book, alright? That’s the only reason I’m not killing you” well, I mean, we’ve known this for quite a while. The only reason Dream got to keep his last life was because of Tommy’s attachment to his friends. I’ve seen a few people saying that it was specifically to revive Wilbur and, while that may have been an idea at first, by now he had already shown multiple times that that was not the case (even before spending time with him in the afterlife). When he went to “Wilbur’s revival” (the failed one) he showed that he was already incredibly uncertain about wanting Wilbur back (describing him as “not so poggers” in very Tommyinnit fashion). No, the actual reason why he wants the book is most likely because Tubbo is on his last life and we know he can’t live without his best friend. 

“Tommy, I’m never, I am NEVER EVER going to use the revive book to help you or any of your stupid little friends, okay?” So now the question is: was this a lie or a twisted version of the truth?

I’m gonna say the latter and here is why: Dream DID, in fact, revive Tommy. We know this now, it’s canon. But he really didn’t do it FOR Tommy. One thing I want to make clear is this: while Dream may, in fact, consider himself and Tommy “friends” he doesn’t CARE for Tommy himself, not in a way that’s commonly considered as “caring” at the very least. He finds him fun, entertaining and he seems to be rather dependent on him, but NONE of this things equate to caring about HIM. So, now that that’s cleard up, the resons why he revived him in the first place should be rather obvious: 

1) He wanted to see if he could and learn more about his power in general

2) As I said before, there is a degree of dependency Dream has on Tommy. It’s very obvious in the fact that, despite having let go of every other attachment, he doesn’t seem able of letting go of Tommy, not permanently anyway. He seems to actually need to have a degree of control over Tommy at all times

“I will never use the revive book. I will NEVER use it on you, I will never use it on any of your friends, I will never use it to save ANY of you” now THIS one is a straight up lie. What Dream was trying to do here was provoking Tommy enough to see if he’d actually kill Dream or not (which was a useful information for him for later). To see if Tommy could bring himself to do it (he can’t)

“I’ll get out eventually because, either you’ll let me out or... people will be dead” way to be ominous green man! We could assume by this point that his plan to escape may have been along the lines of “getting Techno to repay him by killing one of Tommy’s friends therefore forcing him to let Dream out to bring them back”, or something of the sort.

“This isn’t worse then exile (...) because in exile I thought you had all the power (...) here’s the thing Dream, here’s the thing I know: I don’t think the revive- I- how could I be so fucking...? The revive book Dream, it’s not real is it?” Here is where things start to actually go downhill fast. There is nothing Dream hates more then Tommy questioning his power, there is nothing that makes him angry faster (I’m sure the whole “I don’t give a fuck about Spirit” speach comes to everyone’s mind when I say this, as it should). Dream, as much as he presents himself to be a logical mastermind, is actually very emotional in the way that he is very easily overtaken by anger. He does irrational stuff every time he gets mad, that’s no secret. If he wasn’t already planning to kill Tommy to test his power, this push is what convinced him to do it. Also this is the exact reason why he likes Tommy (weirdly enough, their relationship is so very complicated) in the first place, because he’s the only one who’s constantly questioning him and challenging him. 

As we know the fight escalated and Dream ended up killing Tommy telling him to ask “Schlatt” about the book. Though before that there are quite a few exchanges were Tommy expresses that he thinks Dream is powerless now and was lying about the book all along because that’s generally what he does and Dream keeps insisting that he’s not lying and that Tommy’s life is still in his hands, that he still has all the power (turns out he wasn’t so wrong...). 

Also, last line to analyze from this: “I might as well be a God Tommy! You can’t kill me and I can kill you” pretty sure this is the first time Dream outwardly announces his God Complex and it’s interesting that his idea of power revolves entirely around having power over Tommy specifically. Because, even having power over Tommy’s life he’s still in prison, he stil has no real power of any kind. Everyone on the outside still hates him (aside from the anarchist duo), they still aren’t letting him out. Who comes to see him and what he can keep in his cell is still entirely dependent on Sam and not on him. But the fact that he has power over Tommy is enough to make him a God in Dream’s eyes.

Am I dead?

Fisrst things first, the afterlife part:

It seems that we may be seeing pieces of conversation had at different times. Let me explain myself:

Tommy opens up asking if he’s dead, then he has an interaction with Wilbur that sounds like it could be their first interaction after his Tommy’s death as Wilbur asks how he’s doing. 

We know however that he’s been ther for at least 2 months, probably more considering he seems to have interacted with Schlatt, but Schlatt has been comatose for 3 months. We could then assume that what we see is a sort of very short montage of Tommy’s time in the afterlife.

The next scene we have Tommy asking “How long is left?” (we don’t know what he’s referring to, though it could be to his revival) and Wilbur responds saying that, to the end of the Universe it would be still 8 eons. Then Wilbur asks him to play competitive solitary and they randomly chat for a bit.

New change of topic (probably next scene again) we have Wilbur telling Tommy he’s happy Tommy is there (dead) with him as the tw of them were never good for the server and caused all the problems (which we know to be incorrect, but it was Wilbur’s mentality at the time of his death and it makes sense that he would have kept it). Tommy also has a very clear panic attack which Wilbur generally ignores. Wilbur also says that, if he’s brought back to life, he knows for a fact that the server will be in shambles because, in his words: “I know what I’m like, that’s the issue”. 

Like it or not people Wilbur is most definitely implying that he knows he wasn’t a good person and that he won’t be different when he comes back. Simple as that. It’s also a further confirmation of his self-deprecating nature that brought him to self-destruct in the first place.

There is another pause that we could consider a cut scene and Wilbur is then talking about making a solitaire arena in a couple of months to an exasperated Tommy

Now for the revival itself:

First thing we notice once Tommy is back to life is that he’s most definitely experiencing a sensory overload. He’d gotten used to living in a colorless dimension with almost no sounds (aside from Wilbur’s and Mexican Dream’s voices I’m guessing) and no sense of touch aside from the constant pain that being back on the living plain may be quite ovewhelming for him.

“So what was it like?” Dream doesn’t loose a beat once Tommy is back before starting to ask him questions. He literally sounds like an eager kid who just got a new toy (and I gotta commend cc!Dream for the voice acting here!). The book worked and now he needs to find out exactly to what extent he can use it (the idea of immortality being on his mind as we’ll see later).

“Void, it was dark, it was all dark” “There was Schlatt, there was Mexican Dream” “There’s so many more drugs then just alcohol” “Mexican Dream, he was there, which was confusing, he was loud. And then there was Wilbur...” “(Continuation from below) and then I came out and I was in a long long hole, a tunnel of black and void, not even black just colorless” “When I was there it all felt so real, but so torn apart. It felt like I was in pieces, like I was stomped on” This is our best description of the Afterlife so far. A static void with no colors or viable sensations, with only 3 known residents now that Tommy is not there any longer. A weird reality with a seemingly entirely different set of rules to our own.

“Death felt like my body was taken apart and then put together and then taken apart and put together here. It felt stretched man” “It felt like I was shredded to dust” “No it didn’t feel goo- it felt like I was put through a shredder, but there was no blood, there was no flesh it was just essence, like a powder and I was put through (continues in previous section)” This is Tommy’s complete description of his experience with death and what it felt like. Having to stay for months with this constant sensation it’s really no surprise he would be so hypersensitive to touch.

“Honestly I was kind of scared it wouldn’t work” So, here we got another indication of the fact that, while Dream killed Tommy in rage, having him stay dead was never his intention (despite him claiming he would never use the book on Tommy a couple of days prior). He never intended to severe his last attachment (I’m honestly not sure he even CAN seeing as how dependent he actually seem on Tommy), he literally only killed him because he was mad Tommy would question him and wanted to prove a point, but to prove his point in the first place he needed Tommy back. It’s also probably why he revived him so fast, his weird need to have control over Tommy, which he couldn’t have while Tommy was dead.

Why did he care so much about Tommy not believing him on the book, you may ask? Was it to save his own skin? It’s possible and I think that’s part of it, others being convinced that the only reason they kept Dream alive was a lie could cause his death. The other reason is that he seems, as I said before, to want to shift his and Tommy’s dynamic to an “us vs the world” type of deal, which would require Tommy in particular to believe everything he says.

We can now add being hit at all by Dream to Tommy’s ever growing list of trauma triggers as he seems to have a very vivid recollection of his death by Dream’s hands... also we need to point out their body language in this: Dream is constantly trying to get close to Tommy as much as he’s constantly insisting on getting more information, while Tommy alternates between getting close to Dream and pushing him away (could be he’s both seeking some kind of comfort, but is also very overwhelmed).

“Tell me, one more time: what was it like when you died?” “Did it feel good?” Dream’s insistence and exitment about Tommy’s very obvious extreme distress is honestly concerning, but expected. By now we can safely assume that he doesn’t really have any empathy, I know, bold claim, but is there any evidence to refute it? Any evidence at all? Because, so far, he has shown a distinct lack of empathy in any and all situations...

Another interesting thing was Tommy’s reaction to Dream’s probing questions: while he seemed to get increasingly distressed by them, he kept answering Dream every time with little hesitation only at times adding on things like calling Dream a monster for the way he was treating him. I honestly think this may have been because he was in desperate need of comfort, and having someone to confide into is part of that. And Dream was the only “someone” he had there.

We then get the whole exchange about how time in the Afterlife is different then in the normal plain of existence. I’ve seen people equate 1 day to 1 month, however that’s incorrect. That was Dream’s wrong assumption but, from whet Tommy said, we can guess that it was much more then that. Frist of all, the first month and 18-20 days Schlatt was still awake and he was the one making them keep count. That said, we know Schlatt has been asleep for around 3 months (we don’t know exactly how much as they lost count). Which means that Tommy’s stay in the Afterlife was much more around 5 months then 2, meaning 1 day in the Real World should equate to roughly 2.5 months in the Afterlife give or take. That is, of course, assuming time there moves in a regular way and there is an actual correspondence between Real World time and Afterlife time, which is not a given.

Tommy keeps asking for the people he find reassurance in (at least we can assume so) which, in this case, are: Tubbo, Jack, Phil, Fundy an Sapnap. It’s a pretty weirdly matched group of people but, apparently, they are the ones Tommy seeks out when he’s distressed. It would be interesting to see an analysis of his relationship with each of them, but this one is not about that I’m afraid. 

“Wait shut- shut up! Shut up! Sorry, I’m sorry” Tommy seems to have re-acquired some of his exile mannerism such as being overly apologetic and skittish, together with the lashing out more. None of this are good signs... he had just started healing as well...

“I... I’m a God! I can bring people back to life, I wasn’t even sure that I could, but I can!” Bringing Tommy back to life worsened Dream’s God Complex even further, because now he doesn’t only have power over Tommy, but everyone else as well. And, I mean... at this point he IS basically a God, he’s not even wrong on that. 

“Dream, Dream, listen to me. The things I saw, the things he talked about, the things he said he will and the things he WILL do... do not- promise me, never EVER bring back Wilbur! Please, please, please” In case anyone was wondering this is the exact thing Tommy said on Wilbur. He didn’t say he’s worse then Dream here, but he IS bad news, at least if we trust Tommy on it. Wilbur wasn’t only self-destructive when alive, he was destructive in general. He was dangerous to others as much as he was to himself and he DID hurt people. And this side of him seems to only have been accentuated by death.

 “Do NOT bring back Wilbur. Ever! Promise me you’ll never do that, alright? Dream, Dream, you are nothing, you’re nothing, you’re fine Dream! We can be friends if you don’t bring him back! You’re not even- all the tragedies you’ve done-” and here’s the part that I’m guessing people are interpreting as Tommy saying Wilbur is worst then Dream which is... a fair interpretation actually (considering that Tommy is not a reliable narrator). Now please don’t get me wrong, Alivebur as he was, wasn’t worse then Dream, but he had years in the afterlife to become even more radicalized in his beliefs. There is also the fact that Tommy doesn’t seem to put the harm done against him on the same level as that done against others: Dream has hurt Tommy worse then Wilbur ever did, but Wilbur’s potential harm against others might be greater in Tommy’s mind then Dream’s. That’s the reason why he’s offering something he knows Dream wants, which is his friendship, in order to keep Wilbur from coming back: because he truly doesn’t care about his own wellbeing as long as others are safe. Of course Dream’s response to this is: "It’s not up to you. It’s up to me because I- I have that control” which is very in character for the green blob with a God Complex

“What if, now that we know, we could send you back and you could figure out-” We can see that Dream has an utter fascination with this whole concept and, now that he knows revival works, he has no qualms with sending Tommy back (no matter how obviously traumatic it was for him) to get further information because, guess what? Death is not in any way an escape anymore. He can simply pull Tommy back as he pleases.

There is then the exchange about burning the book, but, as Dream has it memorized, they would need to kill Dream to get rid of the knowledge, but Tommy can’t bring himself to do it because he’s even more terrified of being stuck alone in the cell then he is of Dream bringing Wilbur back. 

“I wanna know about death. We can study it! We can study it together! We can become immortal together!” Again, if there were any doubts on Dream’s constant need of having Tommy under his control, this should dissolve them. There is truly not much more he can do to show how obsessed he is then offering Tommy to be immortals together, especially because we know that the ideal for him would be to have Tommy be completely dependent on him again. To have his favourite puppet under his control for eternity apparently... “I want absolutely fucking nothing to do with you” of course, as we said many times, Tommy doesn’t view their relationship in the same way. Tommy actually hates Dream and truly doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“You owe me your life” “Owe you my life? You beat m-!” Who’d know that Dream had some similar arguments to his apologists huh? But this does show how warped his view of reality is. I mean, he’s fully aware that he beat Tommy to death, but he still think Tommy should be grateful to him for bringing him back. 

“Now you can tell everyone that the book exists, that I'm not a liar!” Dream really went hard with the whole God Complex thing, even going as far as choosing his profet huh? Man’s just on a high horse and will never get down...

“Everyone... is my puppet” Welp, this is the culmination of his God Complex. The realisation that he has absolute power of life and death over everyone else. That he can play with them as he pleases. Also, may I add that, for basically this whole stream, he has used the “soft voice” he tends to do with Tommy whenever he’s trying to get him to comply? Like, I’m mentioining it now because it was particularly obvious in this last exchange, but it’s been there on and off the WHOLE time. 

“You killed me to prove your own point. You could have just showed me! You could have just- this is so evil. This is- this is- this isn’t like before. This isn’t you’ve blown up and- you’ve put me through torture, through pain, to prove a point, that’s fucked! You can’t do that to me... to anyone!” It took almost half an hour but Tommy has finally come to the full realisation of what happened to him, of why it happened and he’s honestly very understandably distraught about it (though it is to be said that it's arguably quite good that he understands that it wasn't okay for him either to be put through that as he tends to downplay his own suffering greatly). He has been through something unimaginable for us because Dream was upset that he didn’t believe him about the book. That’s all there was to it, that’s all the reason for his suffering. Like, he’s not wrong at all when he describes Dream as a monster, that’s literally the only accurate description of him. No normal person would put someone else through this for such a petty reason. 

“You’re soft Dream, you’re soft” Another valid point by Tommy. While Dream IS undoubtedly extremely powerful and extremely clever, he’s also petty, stubborn and childish. He throws violent temper tanrtums every time someone (especially Tommy) disagrees with him and mostly gets away with his bs because he has the power to back them up. That said he hardly ever lost, the only true loss he had was being locked in prison, and he managed to turn even that in his favour! But that’s the think: loosing makes you stronger, it often teaches you a lot and pushes you to get better. He (along with a couple of others) basically never had that. Tommy’s been through literal Hell and he survived that, he knows he can survive that. Dream? He may break at the first real hardship as far as we know!

“I’ll let you free, I’ll let you free alright? We’ll call for Sam, we’ll get him in here, he’ll let you out, but... I’m gonna bring back Wilbur and Wilbur- Wilbur is gonna help me escape” 2 things to unpack here (aside from the fact that he’s using the “soft voice” to say something extremely disturbing again):

1) Dream is, once again asserting his power over Tommy in two ways: by frasing it in a way that implies that it’s up to Dream wether Tommy leaves or not and by confirming again that Wilbur’s resurrection is entirely up to him and that Tommy’s opinion on the matter is utterly worthless

2) He fully intends to use Wilbur as a puppet as well because, as he says a bit later, if he brings him back then Wilbur will be indebted to him

And that’s how it’s concluded! 

My closing thoughts on this are that, generally, Dream’s level of dependence on Tommy seems to worsen as fast as his God Complex. man went from telling him that their story “would never be over” to offering him immortality in the span of little over a month. Tommy is Not Doing Good, AT ALL, but I’m hoping he’ll ask for help this time from other people because he literally cannot deal with this on his own. Wilbur will not be good news, but what he’ll do is still entirely uncertain, it is to be pointed out however that, at the beginning, his frasing at a certain point sounded scarily similar to Dream’s idea of “us vs the world” when he said that him and Tommy specifically are the single cause of conflict. I hope I’m wrong there because the LAST thing Tommy needs is another obsessive God-like individual in his life!

@mysweatymakerstudentworld

[k-s-morgan]

What He Grows to Be: Snippet 5

Thank you to everyone who expressed their preference over what they’d prefer to see in the snippet! Tom watching Harry’s memories about the Chamber of Secrets got the most votes, so here is the draft version of it. Though since it’s almost 4K long, maybe calling it a snippet isn’t appropriate :D 

------------------------------------------------------------

Talking through a diary was an interesting idea. Tom wasn’t sure what kind of magic this was, but now that he’d seen it, he could figure it out. He and Harry would be able to have immediate conversations instead of relying on letters or Patronuses.

Then again, considering what this diary had led to, perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. The last thing Tom wanted was to add himself into Harry’s collection of negative associations in one more way.

He didn’t see how Harry had managed to get into the Chamber of Secrets. One moment, he was staring at the bloody inscription on the wall; the next one, he was standing in an entirely new vast space. Tom still had no idea where it was located or how to access it.

His heart sank in disappointment, but when the full implications hit him, it stopped entirely.

Harry had excluded this memory on purpose. He didn’t trust Tom with the knowledge of where the Chamber was. He showed him the core events but not the details because his trust and his faith were already gone by that point.

And the ritual made it even worse.  

An uncomfortable itchy heat began to radiate from Tom’s chest. The sensation was entirely unfamiliar, so he pressed his palm against it, confused and hoping to squash it down.

He couldn’t name it, but it felt a little like shame. He’d never experienced it to this extent before, and it was never mixed with this kind of almost desperate hurt.

He’d been trying. For years, he’d been trying to be someone Harry would approve of. The craving, the longing for his acceptance stayed his hand so many times that now Tom couldn’t count them all — he even allowed that scum Morfin to blackmail him, no matter how maddeningly outrageous the whole situation was, simply because he refused to risk Harry finding out.

He’d made mistakes, but they were minimal in comparison to what he would have done if he hadn’t been trying. And yet Harry still didn’t trust him.

The shame began to curl away, giving way to dejection. Loneliness suddenly felt sharp and uncompromising, and Tom wrapped his hands around himself, watching how Harry’s head snapped up.      

“She won’t wake,” a voice said. It was soft but cold, so it took a moment for Tom to recognise it. His eyes quickly moved towards one of the pillars, and something in him shuddered from what he saw.

It was like watching his reflection in someone else’s dream. Something was wrong with the boy he was looking at, and it wasn’t just about the fact that his physical contours were blurred, as if he was being held together by magic alone.

No, he was simply different. He didn’t have the splendour Tom prided himself on. He was thinner and hollow-cheeked; his clothes, while neat, came from some cheap store Tom would have never stepped into. He was but a shadow with empty vicious eyes and greed that swarmed around him in a cloud — greed Tom wasn’t sure he could relate to.

He longed for things. He longed for Harry. But even from here, he could read the shallowness and the arrogance written all over his twin’s face, and he didn’t like it one bit.

This wasn’t him. This was Tom Riddle. Someone he could have been.

“Are you a ghost?” Harry asked. He was staring at Riddle with such earnestness, like he trusted him entirely and couldn’t see what a hollow shell he was. This was the first time Tom would disappoint him — the first in a long line of failures and betrayals.

“No,” Tom murmured to himself, shaking his head briefly. He couldn’t keep blurring himself and Riddle — that way madness lied. Despite some superficial similarities, they were completely different people. He might have let Harry down, too, but their story was different. This abomination was dead and could never touch it.

“A memory,” Riddle replied. His voice was quiet, but its sinister and bitter undertones were as loud as shouting. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

Tom’s brows furrowed. What? A memory? That must have been some ritual. Why would he condemn himself to this kind of existence? To give Voldemort more power? Maybe Voldemort had managed to subdue his will and make him into a brainless soldier somehow. This was more plausible than any version of him feeling such loyalty to some monster that he would follow him blindly and sacrifice his life force for him.

How did one become a memory in the first place? Even Tom with his knowledge about all possible forms of dark arts couldn’t figure it out.

Riddle burst into an animated, mostly one-sided conversation, and several minutes later, Tom had to admit that listening to his own voice was surprisingly challenging. Riddle’s arrogance was distorting his words; his excitement over successfully breaking an 11-year-old girl was embarrassing — Tom had felt less enthusiastic when he killed Charlus, and that happened back when he was a child himself. His first impression had been accurate: Riddle was worlds away from him. He was stupid, and Tom would have never believed it if he wasn’t witnessing it with his own eyes.  

“I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here,” Riddle said pleasantly. His eyes were fixed on Harry in an intense, hungry way — and well, they did have something in common, after all. “I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.”

“Like what?” Harry spat angrily. He didn’t look intimidated in the slightest — his anger and righteousness made him appear taller, and his blazing eyes were furious enough to stop anyone in their tracks.

“How is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?” Riddle wondered. The pleasant notes were disappearing again under the piles of bitterness and odd envy. “How did you escape with nothing but a scar while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

By the end of it, a red gleam entered his eyes. It looked unnatural enough for Tom to make an instinctive step towards Harry.

This was unnerving. Magic was one thing, but what would turn his eyes — Riddle’s eyes — red? Humans couldn’t do that, it went against all laws of nature. Unless… Unless Riddle wasn’t human.

If so, what was he?

“Why do you care how I escaped?” Harry asked slowly. His own gaze was narrowed in a dawning realisation that Tom couldn’t decipher. Did Harry have a theory? How could he — he was only twelve. “Voldemort was after your time.”

Riddle smirked at him, looking almost giddy, and Tom had to amend his opinion. This impostor wasn’t simply stupid, he was crazy. He grew excited over irrelevant things and reacted inappropriately to every logical question Harry asked.

“Voldemort,” he uttered, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter.”

Pulling a wand out of his pocket, he slashed the air with it, writing three rapid words.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Tom studied them, his stare lingering on “Marvolo.” Something about it stood out. Something was strangely familiar.

Before he could follow the clues, Riddle waved the wand again, rearranging the letters. The syllables shifted and clung to each other briefly before assuming their designated places.

I Am Lord Voldemort

His mind went utterly blank. Time stopped. The existence of the world lost its meaning. Tom stared at these words, re-reading them again, and again, and again.

I Am Lord Voldemort.

Tom Riddle. Voldemort.

He was Voldemort.

He was Voldemort. All this time, he was watching himself, and he didn’t even realise this.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Tom recoiled from the damning words so violently that he lost his balance and collapsed onto the wet floor. His body didn’t feel the impact — it couldn’t, he didn’t even have it here, but it still burned, it still groaned and shuddered, as if the weight of his mind and his feelings was too much for it to bear.

“It can’t be,” he tried to speak. No words reached his ears, so he did it again. “It’s not possible. I’m not him.”

Still nothing.

Acid burned at the back of his throat. His stomach contorted in pained shock, and then the terrible screaming something filled his ears, crawling in them until it was the only sound they could perceive. It was violent and shredding — it echoed in his very bones.

He was Voldemort. All along, he was Voldemort. He’d killed Harry’s parents. He tried to kill Harry. He made so many Horcruxes that he had gone insane, losing his mind along with his powers, losing the respect of his followers, leaving only fear in its place.

He wasn’t the right hand of Harry’s nemesis. He was his nemesis. Harry had spent his entire first life hating and fearing him — he had single-handedly ruined Harry’s existence so thoroughly that Harry was forced to escape into the past. To accept guardianship over someone who tortured and destroyed him.

An icy fist closed around his lungs, clawing and squeezing the remains of air out of them. Tom gasped, his body jerking in odd abrupt movements that he had no control over. The next second, the contours of the Chamber of Secrets faded, melting back into Harry’s bedroom. The phantoms of the past were gone — they stayed trapped in the Pensieve, but their terrible echoes remained with Tom. They latched onto his mind with hungry vengeance, throwing an image after an image of the pictures he had seen when he was first watching Harry’s memories.  

It didn’t matter then. Those pictures were just that — the images of a monster he didn’t know and had no direct relationship with. But recalling them now and putting his own face onto them…

His mind rebelled. Tom pressed his hands to his ears, trying to silence the screaming, but it kept getting louder. It hurled accusations and mockeries, painted every crime he committed, every time he hurt Harry and raised his wand against him.

There was no silencing something like this. The only thing Tom could do was outcry it, so he screamed, too.

He found that he couldn’t stop.

***

That night, he added just one sentence to his letter.

Why would you love me?

*** 

The sleep didn’t come. The desire to tear into his skin and shred it until physical pain remained the only sensation was strong, but every time Tom raised his wand or his hands, he stopped.

He wanted to hurt himself. He didn’t want to hurt Harry.

It was easier before. In Harry’s absence, for a long time, he’d been putting his own hurt above everything, even above Harry himself; he’d marred his skin without care, wanting, needing acknowledgement.

But he couldn’t do it now. The thought of leaving even a small scratch on Harry made him sick.

That cursed ritual.

Tom managed to stay physically intact throughout the night, yet he spent it curled into a tight ball, shaking under the pressure of ache and grief and emotions he couldn’t identify. There were so many of them — they were crowding his chest, interfering with his heart, making him feel like he was about to explode with them.

When the morning came and nothing changed, Tom made himself get up. He cooked breakfast, then stared at it silently, knowing that he could never eat it without vomiting it back.

He needed… something. Something comforting. Harry wouldn’t return; Harry’s blanket and things no longer produced the same soothing effect, so it had to be something new.  

If he could capture Harry’s Patronus into some vial… if he could consume the letters Harry had written him…

The letters. He still had the letters. They were the last thing he’d gotten from Harry — they had his personality, his handwriting; they had a whole part of him because Tom could easily trace the story of their creation. From the pressure Harry had applied to a quill in different instances, it was evident where he hesitated, where he took a break, where he got anxious or passionate. It was the closest thing to him Tom had in his possession now.

Without thinking further, he returned to the bedroom and grabbed the last letter. His eyes immediately zeroed in on three specific half-lines.

…I’m going to keep explaining until you do.

…I’ve promised you’ll always be my priority.

…I might consider returning.

A promise of future communication.

The use of future tense.

Future possibility.

This was evidence. Whatever Tom was, Harry didn’t give up on him. Harry still loved him. He might still return.

Tom closed his eyes, nuzzling into the letter, and finally, for the first time in hours, the ache lessened. The sick feeling grew dimmer, too, and he felt solid and grounded again. When he pulled back, his gaze dropped to another passage.

Watch those memories. Don’t contact me until you do.

Tom pressed his lips to these lines, trying to breathe them in, feeling how their rough surface scratched his mouth.

Permission to contact Harry. He still had it. He was simply supposed to meet Harry’s condition.

That meant that he had to return to the Pensieve. The sooner he was done, the closer to Harry he could feel again.

Carefully, Tom folded the letter and put it in his pocket. If things got bad again, he could always touch it and remind himself of the future.

The memories weren’t a punishment. They were a chance to improve things.

Tom couldn’t really be certain, but he preferred to cling to this notion.

This made things easier at least to a small degree.

*** 

He chose to return to the start of the memory. Silently, he watched his shadow speak with Harry, lingered on how it hissed the words of self-admiration and hung onto its useless pride.

“I fashioned myself a new name,” Riddle boasted breathlessly, “a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

“You are not,” Harry said quietly. Despite his age, his resolution was steely, and if Tom had to choose whom he admired more at this moment... it wouldn’t even be a competition.

“Not what?” Riddle snapped. Insecurity and rage were twisting his ghostly face — it was a pitiful display. If the words of a 12-year-old boy had the power to affect him, then he had not only failed at greatness, he was also a failure of a sorcerer.  

“Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore,” Harry said hotly. “Everyone says so!”

The reasoning was… like that of a child. Even though his stomach was clenched into a tight knot, Tom smiled a little, suddenly overcome with a rush of gentleness and fondness for this particular version of Harry.

He was trusting. He was pure in a way that even his Harry wasn’t — he didn’t see death and destruction yet; he was not betrayed by Dumbledore.

He was not betrayed by Tom.                              

The smile disappeared, leaving Tom hollow.

When Dumbledore’s phoenix burst into the Chamber, carrying the Sorting Hat, Riddle laughed, and Tom laughed with him — only his laughter was hysterical because all pieces in his head suddenly clicked into one clear picture.

Dumbledore. Of course. Of course it was Dumbledore’s plan all along, how did he not see this from the start?

Harry hadn’t sneaked into the Chamber secretly — Dumbledore allowed him to. Dumbledore was likely watching him even now, invisible, waiting for the outcome.

Harry was a Horcrux, and Horcruxes could be destroyed with basilisk’s venom.

This was a test. Dumbledore wanted to see if he could get rid of the Horcrux inside Harry without necessarily killing him. The Hat was here to give Harry the Sword — with his mindless bravery, it was not a surprise that he could pull it out. The phoenix was here to decrease the chances of Harry dying and to heal him after he was stabbed.

Clever. And enraging. Because for Dumbledore, Harry was a game piece. For Tom, he was the world.

He would have let Voldemort live for a thousand of years. He would have allowed him to destroy this universe until nothing was left if it meant he could keep Harry safe. Dumbledore would never prioritise one over a billion, and for that, Tom hated him.

“Kill him,” Riddle hissed. The words sent a jolt of automatic panic through him, and Tom moved between Harry and the basilisk before he could think rationally about it.

The snake was magnificent, there was no denying it. Even the first time, when he’d been distracted to the point of ignorance, he stopped to watch it because it was breath-taking in every way.  

There was only one drawback. It wanted to kill Harry, and it meant that Tom would see it destroyed.

Harry broke into a run with his eyes shut. He managed to half-cross the room when he tripped and crashed down, his chin colliding with the cold stone. The sound of it launched Tom into immediate action again before he could stop his stupid feet.

Feeling this protective for such an extended period of time was exhausting. His heart kept hammering relentlessly and his hands were itching with magic, needing to pour it somewhere to protect Harry and to make sure he never got hurt again. How could anyone live in such a state?

The basilisk roared from pain when Dumbledore’s phoenix attacked it. Its tail whipped across the floor, approaching Harry with deadly speed, and Tom’s heart stopped. It stumbled forwards again only when Harry ducked, crouching, dirty and bloodied but with determination still burning brightly on his face. He was beautiful and desperate, and Tom would have cradled him in his arms if he could touch him.

A gust of wind sent the Hat right in Harry’s face. He grabbed it, put it onto his head, and threw himself to the side when the basilisk’s tail snapped forward again, almost crushing him into nothingness.

This was all strategic. It wasn’t a coincidence that the phoenix appeared immediately after Harry pledged his loyalty to Dumbledore. This was training — training in blind devotion, in recklessness, in self-sacrifice. And Harry had no idea.

At least this Harry didn’t. The adult version knew everything yet he still seemed to hold deep respect for Dumbledore.

Perhaps some training was too ingrained to ever fade from one’s core. This explained… almost everything about Harry. If Tom got another chance to make things right, he would dedicate himself entirely to removing these suicidal ideas from his head once and for all.

Harry pulled out the Sword from the Hat. He spent only a second on contemplating it — the next one, he was already standing and pointing it at the basilisk.  

Nothing about this picture was palatable. The sword was too heavy for a child his size: Harry was struggling with it, and the basilisk kept thrashing, hitting everything in sight. How he survived was a matter of miracle. If he had died… If he’d died, this would be it. Tom would never be the person he was now. He would be limited to a memory in his own diary, to a ruin incapable of human thought. He would never get his second chance, and the life as he knew it would never exist.

Terror that rolled through him could only be rivalled by the sheer horror of witnessing the basilisk’s fang separate itself from its mouth and plunge into Harry’s arm. Static electricity burned somewhere above his elbow in a phantom sensation of pain Harry had to be experiencing. It wasn’t real, but Tom’s breathing still quickened, and his fingers wrapped around his arm convulsively.

He couldn’t tell if the fang fell out because Harry had aimed his Sword there or if it was Dumbledore again. Either way, Harry was dying, and even though Tom knew he’d survive, watching this was no less excruciating.

“Fawkes,” Harry murmured hoarsely. His eyes were fluttering shut in an image that came straight from Tom’s worst nightmares. “You were fantastic, Fawkes.”

Giving praise to an impervious bird when life was bleeding out of him. Harry was insane. He was the Harry — his Harry. It was no wonder that an overwhelming longing for him had been and was going to be Tom’s undoing in every life he lived.

“You’re dead, Harry Potter,” Riddle crowed, and Tom turned to face him with a snarl.

He hated this version of himself. Hated him. It was just a shard of him, dull and shallow, and if this underwhelming thing was ever his future, he would have preferred death.  

Riddle wasn’t a powerful wizard. Even now, when faced with a dying wandless boy, he was too wary of making his own move. He let the basilisk be his weapon; he was watching Harry die and not intervening because he was intimidated.

Though perhaps it made sense. Maybe even Riddle could see Harry’s brilliance despite his narrow-mindedness — maybe, beneath the hatred and the fear, he was fascinated. Tom knew he would be.

Harry might not have much power, and he certainly didn’t at the age of twelve, but he still managed something no other wizard had tried. He’d defeated a giant basilisk with a sword; his agility was almost otherworldly as he twisted, crouched, and ducked from the heavy blows.

This was worthy of admiration. Even Riddle couldn’t be that blind so as to miss it.

When the phoenix healed Harry, Riddle didn’t cry out in alarm or anger like Tom might have expected him to. Instead, his face shifted between different conflicting expressions, and his eyes regained the hungry glint Tom found intimately familiar.

“It makes no difference,” Riddle spoke confidently, with only the tiniest twitch of uncertainty underneath. “In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter... you and me.”

The surprising jealousy raised its ugly head, making Tom tense. He didn’t know in what way his shadow meant these words — he didn’t like to think about it either. It didn’t matter any way because there would never be such thing as Riddle and Harry, not until Harry came back to the past and gave the real Tom a chance at rebirth.

Without answering, Harry stabbed the diary with the fang, his eyes glistening with fevered hatred. Even Riddle’s piercing scream didn’t shake Tom the way this look had. He barely heard a sound through the sudden roaring in his ears, the sudden realisation that this was Harry’s first and last meeting with an actual Tom Riddle. Voldemort was a monstrosity with a face Tom refused to claim, but physically, Riddle was him.

How did Harry feel, watching him grow up? Had he ever looked at him and seen Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets? How could the feeling of love prevail over the feeling of hatred the 12-year-old Harry was currently wearing?

Tom turned away, unable to keep looking. His throat was dry, and as his knees started to shake, threatening to buckle right under him, he thrust his hand into his pocket, gripping the letter there.

In some other world, this moment had been Riddle’s end. But it wouldn’t be his.

He could do better. He would do better.

He’d finish watching these memories, he’d complete his letter to Harry, and then he’d start working. Harry would never look at him like he had at Riddle. In years, the memories of the Chamber of Secrets would fade; Riddle would become a shadow of a shadow, and Tom’s image would outshine him. It would take precedence in Harry’s mind.

This determination washed away the worms of doubts and self-hatred. When the new wave of memories swept him along, Tom felt prepared to face them.