#i love evil clone drama

[jess-the-vampire]

Thinking about Archie meeting Oliver and Bailey

the funny thing is i have considered the idea they still exist in this au, but like, as archie's younger siblings

and that it sometimes adds to archie's feeling of being unwanted or a burden when he was younger, because he's the child causing so much drama in comparison to his drama free siblings who were biologically made...unlike him

adopted kids feeling inferior or unwanted due to the existence of their parents having bio kids is sadly something that does happen, there def is a social pressure that bio kids are somehow better or that adopted kids aren't "Your kids" enough because you don't share dna

archie of course does share dna with at least hunter through caleb and Philp being brothers, but not being the product of both his parents and instead being an ineffective clone of an evil emperor who is the reason they have to go to the principles every week would still probably suck in his eyes

i do think he would love any younger siblings he had, even if there was some resentment underneath tho

the idea has been tossed around at least, like it's not canon rn but obviously i've considered it

i do think under that circumstance hunter and willow would make sure to make archer feel as special as possible so he always knows the fact he isn't their bio child doesn't make him less of their son and that his siblings aren't here to replace him

they would of probably had other kids once archie was a little more independent purely because they wanted him to get as much attention and love as possible until they felt he was ready to share that attention due to his circumstances

he is a special case, being the clone of belos after all, makes sense they want to try and help him settle into this world and support him for a good while till he's capable of handling some of it on his own

and i do think his siblings would look up to archie as their big older brother no matter where he came from, even if they wouldn't fully understand everything archie is dealing with and going through

[gffa]

I would love your Legends recs!!! I've tried getting into Legends before but the books I'd randomly pick up would just seem off somehow & I couldn't really get into them (which might be my fault for buying whatever star wars thing I saw because it had clones on the cover)

But that was before I knew the difference between Canon and Legends and what not so I think I might be less confused by all the continuity stuff now (hopefully) & I would love to give them another go. I've been recommended the Kenobi book before, have you read it? Which ones are your favorites?

Hi! I'm not as well-versed in the Legends books, as I've prioritized the Disney continuity ones, because I only have so much time to also get through all the documentaries and reference books and watching the shows and reading the comics and reading fic and having fun in fandom, etc. And with decreasing amounts of free time, it just hasn't been a priority! That said, generally I like Karen Miller's books, which do fall into the attachment = love thing sometimes, but other than that her id aligns with my id like 90% of the way, because her Obi-Wan & Anakin (&Ahsoka) writing is fantastically fun. The Kenobi book is solidly fun from what I remember of it (I think I got halfway through and thought it was fine!), anything by Matthew Stover is worth picking up (the ROTS novelization and Shatterpoint as a Mace novel), and James Luceno's books are generally a solid start. (Dark Lord is probably the one to start with or else Labyrinth of Evil.) The other film novelizations are a mixed bag (and often leave that feeling of something being kind of "off"), the Jedi Apprentice/Jedi Quest books are worth reading just to understand where a lot of plot elements came from, but they're very much aimed at a young audience, so the drama and artistic license is dialed up to eleven (because kids want to read about other kids having exciting adventures, not adults taking care of things before they happen XD), etc. AVOID Karen Traviss' books, like set aside the anti-Jedi stuff (which is still pretty awful), I've seen soooo many people tear those books apart for just how badly written they are because she can't get out of her own bias. If anyone else has some prequels-era Legends books to recommend, please feel free!

[uncouth-the-fifth]

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. bloody mary, rough draft.

read it on ao3.

words: 6k notes: hi y'all! yes, you read that chapter title right - this is a little unconventional, but since I've unfortunately shifted hyperfixations and have drifted away from SPN, I thought I would post what I have for the next part of pythia. since I'm moving into resident evil land, I'm not sure if I'm going to come back to this fic—but I absolutely didn't want to leave you guys empty-handed!! I'm so so sorry that this fic will go unfinished (for now), and I'm so grateful to those who were along for the ride with me. I have so much love for all the people who motivated me through writing this fic. all of you are beyond kind!! and I hope you enjoy this dose of pythia content, featuring some of my notes and process-work, lol. I only had a few heavy chunks of the beginning written, but the prose for this chap (ironically) started to get into the meat of what I really wrote this fic for—psychic bullshit between reader and Sam. It was just too plain juicy to not share!! All of my spn fics will remain up, but if you keep up with me, expect lots of Leon Kennedy bullshit and tomfoolery. Again - thank you so much for your endless love and support, I had so much fun writing what I could of season one!! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this unfinished chunk of silly/ansty Christmas drama :)

EAU CLAIRE, WISCONSIN - Dec 21st, evening.

Sam drops the stack of glossy, brand-new legal pads into his lap, and flashes his brother a plain smile. “Thanks, Dean. I needed more of these.” From your spot seated on the living room rug, you twist your rings and wait for Dean’s witty reply. With all those notes you’re always makin', Sammy, I’ll hafta buy you some for New Years, too. You wait for him to make a crack about the gift he got Sam, something about diaries or his brother’s girly handwriting.

Instead, Dean shrugs, “Well, then there ya go.”

Voila. And with that, the feeble threads you’d tried to braid into a proper Christmas are cut. Without a word, your Mom picks up the little wooden jewelry case the three of you had thrifted her and recedes into the dark hallways of the house. Dean peels himself out of his seat to clean up. Sam sighs, picking at the plastic seal around his legal pads. Hilariously, this all plays out while Paul McCartney chimes about what wonderful Christmastime he’s been having from the radio in your kitchen.

Technically, you hadn’t just been celebrating Christmas. No, you managed to completely bomb both Christmas and the sacred Winter Solstice sabbat that the Proctors had been celebrating for a bajillion fucking years. The special sabbat that would have a real spiritual effect on you for the next couple months.

You’d given it a good ol’ college try. First, you’d painstakingly picked out gifts for the boys and your Mom. Good ass gifts, too, that you’d been hiding in your duffle since summertime. Hell, you’d been looking for the Eagles album you bought for Dean in tape form for at least two years. (Cool, Dean had said, half alive in his armchair after your chupacabra hunt in Illinois. He was at the ugly front end of a cold. He’d sniffled, Don’t have this one.) And knowing that this would be Sam’s first Christmas without Jess—the one person who had given him any kind of good holiday when he was away from home—you’d poured extra love into his gift, too.

He’d been begging you to read Frankenstein since high school, and you’d dodged it because sometimes books that pushed too far into the “classics” category could lose you. Mary Shelley got a little wordy at times. But you were a big girl with a big brain, so you’d read the whole thing for Sam… and annotated the whole thing for Sam…

He’d taken one look at your labor of love and murmured, “Good. Glad you read it.”

…Yeah. You had half a mind to check if he’d been replaced by a clone, hearing that. Fifteen-year-old Sam would have melted into a babbling, ecstatic mess if someone had carefully combed through one of his favorite books and shared their thoughts on it with him. Bare minimum, you figured he’d at least enjoy having his own copy of Shelley’s work. All his other books had been lost in the fire.

But you’d given the book to a Sam who was twenty-two, not fifteen. Fine. People changed.

The boys being a collective bummer was something you could deal with. Sam was always sullen around the holidays, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Dean for being exhausted after a stressful hunt. But your Mom…

Beth used to make Yule her bitch. When you were a kid, come December 1st, the Proctor House could easily have been the center of all Wicca celebrations in the world. If working retail during the holidays tested one’s love for festive music, then the non-stop winter songs bouncing off Beth’s vinyl player would’ve made Santa beg to hear something else. Every room would gush with the smell of evergreen branches and holly. Your family’s altar, the home of all the love and joy for the season, would be lush with offerings and presents. The candles you lit as a family to welcome the light of the new year would glow in a neat row—your little silver candle, your mother’s tall red one… and the biggest. Your Dad’s.

Now, your Dad’s candle was tucked away with the rest of the unused decorations in the attic. From your spot on the floor, you couldn’t help but stare at your piss-poor excuse for a family altar. Beth hadn’t “had the time” to find the table runner your great-grandmother had embroidered just for that space. The small bouquet of mistletoe you’d brought sat pathetically on the wide, barren surface, framed by your family’s dollar-store candles: silver for you, red for Mom, and twin green candles for the boys. 

It was stupid. Really, you shouldn’t have cared so much. You were almost twenty-five, and the older you got the less people cared about silly, trivial things like a single holiday out of the year. That was just a fact of life.

Still, an ugly ball of bitterness sat in your gut. She couldn’t have tried to decorate? Even out on the road, you’d still found ways to make today a little special for the people you loved. Did she really have such little strength left in her? You’d dragged the boys up to Wisconsin with you so your Mom didn’t have to be alone. Was it really that impossible, after eleven whole years without your Dad, to try and be happy?

Fuck this. Yule isn’t over yet. There’s still time for you to squeeze some life out of today, and you’re going to start straight at the source. You find your Mom in the kitchen, mindlessly swiping invisible crumbs off pristine counters. When she senses you paused behind her in the kitchen doorway, clutching in both hands the gift she got you this year, the radio suddenly needs to be toyed with. Then cleaned. There are gray strands in her hair that shine like tinsel in the low kitchen light.

“Hey,” you say, your voice bright and christmas-card perfect. “I don’t think I got to say thank you for the gift.” (You did. More than once already.) “It’s been a bit since I read this one.” The gift in question is your Dad’s second edition print of The Shining. It’s even older than you are, with soft, petal-thin pages that reek of that wonderful old book musk. Rolling the flexed and cracked paperback between your hands, your Gift automatically picks up the distant echo of the hands that had touched these pages when they were new.

When you were little, you’d always found it kind of strange that your Dad considered this book his favorite. He was a sweet, soft-spoken person, and the mental image of him indulging in uncensored horror novels didn’t mesh with the Ray preserved in your head. Having since grown up and read it for yourself, you understood that it was less about the gore of the Overlook and more about “the shine;” the array of psychic abilities that kept five-year-old Danny Torrance alive through the book.

Years of having book-club with Sam had trained you to form cultivated opinions about the stuff you read, but The Shining existed in a realm that made it hard for you to describe how you felt about it. See, you had Danny Torrance’s shine—on the same level, too, enough shine to power the decades of ghostly ballroom parties and mob conspiracies inside the Overlook for a century. Seeing your Gift put onto a page so nakedly and cinematically made you uncomfortable. Yet, feeling the weight of your father’s book in your hands, standing in the kitchen he hasn’t touched in a decade, you know that it must’ve comforted him. Back then, surrounded by a psychic mother-in-law, girlfriend, and daughter, it would've been impossible to survive without a little shine of his own. You’re sure that your Dad's Gift was faint and unimpressive next to the psychic blackholes of your Mom and Grandma. Just enough to know if you’d skinned your elbow or had a nightmare. On the days that you came home from school tear-streaked and ruddy-faced, Dad would be waiting on the porch with soup.

You can still feel the faint psychic imprint of one of his whiskery kisses on your face. You don’t have many vivid impressions of him left to feel; none that haven’t been rubbed again and again, like the hollow of a fingerprint smoothed into the face of a rock over time.

Your Mom gives a non-committal hum at your attempt at conversation. Not because she doesn’t care—you can feel how much she cares from across the room—but because she’s tired. Adult Tired, like when she’d turn down your pleas to play together as a kid. Not tonight, baby. Momma’s exhausted.

“Mom,” you say, sounding as glossy and clean as a brand-new cookie tin. You open your mouth to say more, maybe to start in on one of your long-winded book-rants that had everyone wondering where Sam had suddenly appeared from. You know the answer, but you ask anyway, “This was one of Dad’s favorite books, right? I vaguely remember him talking about the hedge animals.” Beth accidentally hits a button as she’s dragging a rag over the shiny front of the radio, forcing Paul McCartney to have yet another wonderful Christmastime. She doesn’t look at you.

“Yup. But you knew that already, honey.”

C’mon. Nothing? She won’t even throw you the smallest, most pathetic olive branch? A psychic battle occurs. You get so frustrated all at once that your throat closes up, and that frustration balloons out into your family kitchen like the expansion of a bomb. You push. There is no give. The bubbling stormcloud of grief and loss hanging around Mom is there, then it’s not. The side of the kitchen your mother stands on is suddenly a void of absolute nothingness, empty of any feeling whatsoever, good or bad. She’s cutting you off from reading her—and protecting herself from your explosive emotions, as per usual.

Beth keeps cleaning the radio, her back to you.

Your rage bubbles out of you all at once. One day! One day out of the entire fucking year, the day your Dad always made special, and she can’t even pull herself together for that. You know you should be a good daughter and empathize with the woman who made you, but you’ve been a good daughter about this since you were twelve years old. Eleven Yules have gone by since your Dad passed. Just for one measly moment, you want to talk about him like he’s not a corpse rotting in the living room.

And the worst part is that Mom knows that. She’s known you’ve felt that way all day, a slow-bubbling pot building to a boil across the room. The two of you can always feel each other. You’re the only two who can; she’s the only other radio tower that can receive your station in its purest quality, and yet she has the gall to shut all her signals down.

“Fine!” You burst out, making the conversation physical.

It should feel good to yell, really. After the slow, ungratifying day you’ve had, you’ve been a shaken soda bottle waiting to implode. Instead, since you’re the crazy person yelling at nothing for no reason in the kitchen, your anger booms out of you and fizzes out in the same breath like a faulty firework. Fine. Fuck all of this. If you can’t beat em’, join em’. If everyone’s determined to rot the day away, then you’ll go wallow in self-pity the Proctor-Winchester way, too. Merry fucking Christmas, and a happy fucking Yule.

There is no satisfying door to slam on your way out of the kitchen. You take a sharp right down the front hall, hoping to veer up the stairs and slam your feet down on every single step up to your room. If your Mom wants to live forever in the year your Dad died, by all means—you’ll even bring home your thirteen-year-old self and her childish tantrums, just for time-accurate ambiance. Sam’s standing frozen just outside the kitchen archway, and you catch his deer-in-headlights look as you go peeling around the corner. You’re still keyed up with enough lashing rage to spare, so seeing him, just as hollowed-out and not there as your Mom, only feeds your pyre.

As you get to work thoroughly stomping the staircase to death, you hear him go into the kitchen and ask Beth about soup for Dean’s sore throat.

Upstairs is even more painfully quiet. Through the floor, Paul McCartney muffles down to a cheery mumble. All old houses shift around a little, but yours settles like it's alive, clicking, creaking, swaying. You don’t look at the portraits of Proctor women up the stairwell. The dusty grandfather clock in the hall watches you with its stained glass face, and you’re so lost in your own head—

—and Dad’d be so pissed we didn’t decorate the altar or listen to the Tull Christmas album, he’d riot, he’d talk some sense into her—wouldn’t think any of this is stupid— —that you don’t hear it when it chimes. Muscle memory plants you right in front of your bedroom door. Having a good cry under the covers sounds like a perfect end to the night, right? And yet you stop. Your hand drops on the knob and stays there, unmoving. Maybe it’s your Gift, or good old-fashioned human instinct knowing when something in the home has been nudged two inches to the left, but the air in the hall tastes staler than usual. A draft? Your gaze is pulled all the way down to the opposite end of the hall, where the untouched, stately storage room door is ajar.

Your Mom probably left it open. Maybe she’d gone in there to hunt around for all the heirloom Yule decorations, only to rediscover Dad’s football memorabilia or Dad’s engraved cigarette case and go bolting out of the room. —everything’s different without him, Sam and Mom and Dean too. So am I. Everything’s twisted—without him— Still riding the whirlwind, you stomp from one end of the yellowing, starry zodiac carpet (Aries) to the other (Pisces), the floorboards squeaking under your weight. You push the door and it goes shuddering into the darkness. This was one of many rooms in the house that Mom had banished you from as a kid, mostly as a way to shoo you away from the hunting world. It’d given you this insatiable fascination with it as a result, but when you tug the chain to turn on the closest lamp, what it illuminates doesn’t come close to the spectacular stories you’d made up in your head.

It’s just a room. It has windows and shelves and old things, some from your childhood, some from your Mom’s. Some from even further back than that. The closest fascinating thing is a shiny gold blob poking out of your baby things, which turns out to be Sam’s eighth-grade mathlete trophy. You had no idea what possessed Mom to come up here so often. There was no way she wasn’t in here at least a couple times a week; the tall metal storage shelf where she immortalized your Dad’s things was never dusty, and yet the whole room reeked of rotting books and insulation. You shove the box with Sam’s trophy aside with your foot until it skids out of your way, and then send the heavy door shut behind you with a wall-shaking bang.

A flurry of dust hails down from the ceiling. You cough through the cloud, wandering in your blindness towards the neat row of plastic storage tubs labeled with your Dad’s name. Clothes. Misc. Books. Maybe that’s where Mom had gotten your new copy of The Shining from, halfway through one of her sacred meditations over Dad’s things. You drop a hand onto the cold lid of the tub. Nothing, not even the slightest psychic imprint, reaches back.

What is she even holding onto anymore? You try the clothes next. The rounded corners of this bin have been scuffed gray from how many times it’s been pulled off and then pushed back on its shelf, again and again. The case feels as lifeless to you as it would for anyone else, but you try your luck and slide it out onto the floor. It comes loose with a solid thud.

When you were old enough, Beth would sometimes send you up into this room to grab things (spell ingredients, books you didn’t keep downstairs). You would run full-tilt right up until you hit the storage room door, then pass inside like a stranger in a dangerous realm, watching where you stepped and always, always keeping your Dad’s shelf in the corner of your eye. On brave days you would pick up his silvery cigarette case and roll it between your palms. It grew harder and harder to feel him each time, the ghost of him whittled down like a rock made round by the current of a river.

When you crack off the lid, you expect some kind of smell. You don’t remember what he smelled like, but you have a few guesses—cheap, vanilla-sweet aftershave, or maybe the woody stale smell of cigarette smoke you know you shouldn’t love. Maybe both. It doesn’t really matter. The neatly folded stacks of your Dad’s old shirts and jackets don’t smell like a damn thing. You dip your face into a holey band-shirt with the sleeves scissored off, but all that comes back to you is the rotten smell of dusty insulation. He’s here—he’s right here in front of you, right in your fucking hands, and yet the whole world is dead of him. You can’t sense even a sliver of him left.

The same old reservoir of despair pushes and pushes at your composure, wiggling through your cracks, widening them with a hundred thousand tons of pressure bearing down on you a minute. It is a day by day task to handle the reservoir. You like to think you’re good at handling it, at patching the cracks as they come and letting them breathe when the moment calls for it. But when you lift your face from the bin, the leak springs—really, genuinely springs, like it hasn’t in years.

You fall back onto your haunches, swallowing back sudden stinging tears. The bin and its askew lid go shrieking back onto the shelf with a lash of your foot.

-

The music downstairs stops. You can’t tell how long it’s been.

When his death was fresh, and you were stuck deep, deep within the reservoir, you’d wondered if it would always feel this way. It got easier, right? And in many ways it had—on most days you could talk about your Dad without it hurting, letting the dam’s water run. The battle was still there, but it was a burden you were proud to carry if it meant his memory lived on in you. He would want you to be happy, your Mom used to urge. So you gave being happy your best shot, loving and giving as much as you could.

That’s what frustrated you so endlessly about your Mom. She’d been right; your Dad would’ve wanted the two of you to move on, and yet she still entombed herself in the bottom of her reservoir far too often. There was no release, no acceptance with her. The dark part of you that wanted to pass blame wondered if this was all because of John, and how well Winchester grief happened to mingle with a Proctor’s. How would your mother’s life be different, if the evil that’d taken Dad hadn’t been put down a week later? Would she be just as hellbent? With your knees sore from pressing into the floor, you knew the answer. You knew if the thing that’d taken Sam or Dean from you was right in front of you, you’d chase it until you were in your own grave. You knew that even after it was dead, you would be digging your nails into the backseat of the Impala and clawing for every psychic molecule of them left in the leather.

And that’s what scared you—was she just going to be chasing Dad forever, til’ there wasn’t a wisp of him left in the world to feel? 

Something dawns on you, thudding through your mind like a rock dropped down a chute. With limp hands, you slide The Shining towards you on the worn wood floor, part the pages with your thumbs, and press your nose into the binding. There’s the smoky, earthy scent of old paper first… then something just underneath the surface that no one but you and your Mom can pick up.

Old books. Yes. Yes, that’s what Dad had smelled like.

-

You’re seated on the floor of the storage room, back pressed to one of the ancient metal shelves holding up your gramma’s VCR collection, when a blot of the future is tossed at you. Cheap deodorant and lemon cough drops.

Around a minute later, the stairs beyond the door squeak under someone’s weight. Even without the roulette glimpse of the future, you can tell by the footfalls who it is. Heavy knuckles rap the door and come straight in without waiting for an answer. Behind him, the silence of the rest of the house is even heavier.

You try to sound like a reasonable adult, but the mopey teenager slips out anyway. “Thought you were sick, Dean.”

He artfully dodges your point. (Dean is, after all, a master of the craft.) You don’t look back at him, but the lemon cough-drops glimpse you got of him creates a clear picture: Dean’s whole body listing into the door frame, one hand on the knob, his face lacking its usual color. His cheeks have graduated from stubbly to scruffy, neglected. “Hey,” he says. It’s the, okay, you’re done cooling down, let’s have a grown-up conversation kind of hello.

You don’t know what to say back. You’re not sure if you can have any kind of conversation right now.

Dean rolls with it, trying to decide if this silence is begging for a subject change or a heart-to-heart. You’re not sure what he goes for when he says, “I had an idea.” “Did it hurt?” You joke. Jokes you can do.

There’s his opening. After a beat, you’re—

—fucking lobbed with a foam football. Like you’re fucking twelve. Dean’s throw arcs straight towards your head and bounces clean off the top, a perfect spiral. You yelp in outrage, and before you can think you’re following where the stupid ball went so you can clock him right in the face with it. Asshole. It loop-de-loops on the floor around an old dining chair, and you clamber on your knees to fish for it.

Just when you get the toy in your hands and you’re about to demolish him with it, Dean ducks behind the doorway, chuckling, “Woah! No face shots! You wouldn’t bash a poor, sick guy’s face in, would’ja?”

God. You can’t fucking believe him. If anyone else did that…

You lower your hackles and drop the foam toy into a basket, far out of reach of congested troublemakers. When his shining eyes appear in the slit of the doorway again, your cheeks are aching with an impossible smile. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, loser. What is it?”

Dean hesitates a moment more, just in case you’ve got something else to throw at him, then joins you in the storage room with the evil little oily smile you love. The same dust cloud that got you earlier descends on him in a rough coughing fit, but this lets him get a good look at the little mess you’ve made: the book on the floor, your Dad’s things open and askew. When he clears his throat for the last time, he looks pained.

For your sake, you pretend it’s an empathetic kind of pained. And you know that’s a part of it—Dean doesn’t enjoy seeing you and your Mom like this. But it’s an unfortunate fact of your life that you will have four times as much context for him than he will ever have for you. Just breathing the same dusty air as him, you know he’s been nursing a sinus headache since Monday, one that’s made his head feel like it’s chock-full of stuffing, and that Sam made him canned chicken noodle soup—and at first he felt a little smug making Sam play nurse, until he stewed on it more and—

—hate it when he gives me that dead-eyed look, like he can’t even pretend to care anymore. Like he’s just dragging himself through this for our sake. Poor kid scares the shit outta me. Is this how it’s always gonna be? Sammy aching over her, night after night after night—

You know just touching the bins holding your Dad’s things that on a icy February afternoon in 1994, fifteen-year-old Dean had picked up the plastic tubs for your Mom from the store.

So when he gives you that pained look, you know it’s part-concern, part-fear. If this is what you look like eleven years after your Dad’s passing… if John never comes home from his hunting trip, is this what Dean will become? The loyal son, waiting and waiting on that porch for a man who would never come home? 

Your whole life, you’ve felt like you were becoming more and more like Dean; lately, it feels like he’s becoming so much like you. Your last four years on the road together had slowly but surely melded you together.

“Okay, so, Yule’s a fire festival, right?” Dean grasps around in his memory for the yearly history lesson your Mom gives about the Wicca calendar. “Uh, we lit candles… I thought about burning Beth’s Muppet Christmas CD with my lighter a couple times. That’s about all the fiery, burny-stuff we did today.”

“I love the Muppets Christmas album,” you pout.

“After the millionth partridge in John Denver’s goddamn pear tree, you’d change your mind,” Dean swears. “But I was thinkin’—we got the firepit in the backyard, marshmallows, and I think I could put together some vodka shots. Then we can blow em' out and eat em' with the s'mores.” Your eyebrows raise. Only he, of all people, could take your sacred family traditions and twist them into such a wonderful, stupid-ass thing. Maybe it’s ridiculous, but… there is chocolate and graham crackers downstairs… and with how cold it is outside, a fire would be perfect… It’s the best blend of weird Proctor-Winchester traditions you need to save Christmas and Yule. Dean takes your silence as glowing awe. “Exactly. I told you, I'm a fuckin' genius. Helluva way to start the wiccan year, right? You in?”

You’re well aware that this is an elaborate plan to coax you away from your moping. Still, it’s just too Dean to turn down. “...Hell yeah.”

At first R hopes that it’s just her and Dean, and that Sam and Beth keep their grief to themselves. But then she realizes how cruel and selfish she’s been—everyone grieves in their own way, and just because she works through it by talking about it doesn’t mean it will work for everyone. It’s not good that Beth is holding on so tightly to her loss, but that doesn’t mean R wants to leave them out.

Lead this into a touch of psychic!Dean and how he has a teeny tiny second sense for what she needs, just like her Dad did. Just enough shine to get by.

R and Dean come downstairs and invite Sam and Beth to their campfire 😀

Or, at the very least, all the psychic happenings in the house echoing between them; if Dean's sharper instincts were as psychically heavy as a shadow falling on grass, then Sam's Static was six feet of snow in an arctic blizzard.

It tingles all the way up to your shoulder when Sam touches you. And that, oh, that was a whole new can of worms. As they get dressed for the snow outside and assemble the s'mores and flaming shots, you try not to head down that train of thought again.

Every time you’ve glanced at Sam these past few weeks, you’d been unable to hide from what you’d sensed there—from what you’d seen in the demon, and what you now knew to be completely and utterly true after reading its mind.

Sam had It. The Gift, the Shining, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. Not the vague imprint of psychic-ness from loving one or sharing the Impala with one for four years; full-on, unlatched, REDRUM, I-saw-it-before-it-happened psychic abilities. In the weeks you'd had to sit with that revelation, you'd poked carefully at Sam from afar. Obviously, you knew what a fucking psychic felt like. The five-year-old Sam who'd cut Dean's gum out of your hair had not been psychic. Yet this Sam, twenty-two with three-fourths of an ivy league law degree under his belt, was as psychic as a fucking—well. You. He was just as psychic as you.

Without even a sliver of the same control or even understanding of—of what he had, yes, but you were confident that if Sam was pushed, he could reach into your mind just as easily as you could reach into his. There had been a shift, then. At six, having gum cut out of your hair, you had been decidedly less psychic than you were at twenty-four. So Sam had gone through the Proctor Rite Of Passage; some terrible moment had cut him deep, deep enough to pull a new kind of blood to the surface. After Jessica, he had been... yeah.

It was fucking crazy. And yet it also slotted perfectly into some of the weirder things you understood about Sam; about who he was now and the vague, strobing flashes you got of his future. It freaked you the fuck out. Did Sam know? Did anyone know, besides you? Had your Mom recognized that spark in Sam, the same way she'd seen it in you? Had John?

And the plain existence of the Gift in Sam begged the question—why? Had he just happened to drop from the tree as a different kind of apple? Or was this something you could trace back to his mother, the same way it traced back to yours? Had Mary…?

The implications of that took pretty much everything you understood about Sam and Dean’s life, lined it up on the chopping block, and cleaved it in two. Needless to say, thinking about it made you sick. How could you even begin to bring this up to them?

You cursed your abilities with all you had. There were nights when you sat on the bathroom floor, wishing you could dig in with your nails and rip out whatever had put It in your head. Never in a billion fucking years would you have wished It upon anyone else; especially not Sam, good, selfless, wonderful Sam, who already ached so deeply for other people. Seeing their future, too? And even more often, seeing it and being helpless to change it?

He used to cry over squashed spiders as a kid. You'd felt a whole lot more than just spiders die.

…Beside that shuddering horror was another, far more selfish feeling. As scary as the implications could be, when you thought less about the Winchester family and more about your relationship with Sam, you were… excited. Relieved, even.

There were only four people in the entire world that you could share your Gift with. One of them has been six feet under for over a decade. Your Gift was a clingy, possessive creature, too. It was maybe two steps shy of being an eldritch horror. It poked through Dean’s dreams when you slept beside him, sucking them up like cigarette smoke. It breathed down Sam’s neck wherever he went. If you wanted, no one could lie to you—all punchlines and stories were spoiled for you, you knew when people found you annoying or pretty or stupid. If that particular Proctor gene had skipped you, then maybe you’d be able to form relationships with people where you didn’t immediately, intrinsically understand who they were and why. Dean would say, You need a drink. You would know without asking that he meant, You scare the ever-living hell out of me n’ I know I can’t hide it from you. Fucking hell, kid, I wish I could.

You knew you were a freak. The tiny human vessel for the lashing, bubbling, soul-melting, cosmic weight of a star about to bloom into a black hole. Only your mom would ever understand what it felt like to exist on the fringe of time, between the exhaustive influence of the past and the vast, spotty expanse of the future. You were a tool to men like John; an anomaly for men like Bobby; and a responsibility to men like Dean. 

But Sam… Your best friend Sam, he’d always tried to understand. Maybe he’d never fully get it, but the point was that he tried to. You remembered sitting with him on the curb outside your old high school, the concrete thrumming with music from the junior prom you’d both left behind inside.

How either of you had gotten dates was a miracle. You, the class weird-freak-emo punchline, and Sam, on his fourth round being the new kid that year, were two peas in a pod. Your date had never picked you up; Sam’s had escaped with her friends long before their first dance. Neither of you were very broken up about it.

The future had sprawled in front of you that night as clear as could be. You must've sat and talked on the curb for three straight hours, pressed together at the hip with Sam’s blazer around your shivering arms.

He was always beautiful in the boy-next-door kind of way, dimples popping with every good smile and freckles rising out of the too-short sleeves of his button-up. But that night he’d been fucking Helen of Troy, and the roar of the past and future slowed to a halt around him. 

Do you really see the future all the time? Every second? Sam had curiously tilted his head, sending a gleaming swish of chocolatey hair out of his eyes.

Swallowing hard, you’d hesitated, Not every second. But a lot, yes.

Again, the head tilt, then the swish. His gaze was innocent and intrigued. No existential dread, no sweeping sense of fear. Just plain curiosity. Not even morbid curiosity. Sam had asked, What about right now?

Sam’s cologne—oh god, his cologne—was steaming off his borrowed jacket and floating around your head in a wonderful rosy fog. You’d poked at the future. Sometimes things came back, sometimes they didn’t. That night, the future had come back tasting like Sam’s vanilla chapstick and junior prom punch, and your face had gone up in flames just sensing it. He’d waited for an answer. You’d blurted out the plain truth: In a minute or two, you’re gonna kiss me.

This kind of absolute, unshakable certainty about the future had made other hunters’ blood run cold. You’d braced yourself for Sam’s displeasure or worse, his fear. But instead, there were those dimples again, and Sam had the gall to bat his lashes at you and delightedly ask, Really? That’s what the magic eight ball has to say?

His big hand had dropped onto your knee and you’d squeaked out a shrill, Signs point to yes!

Sam loved the stupid magic eight-ball joke. You could feel him smiling about it as he kissed you, kissed you, hand-on-knee, his face tipping down to yours, the shitty school punch staining his lips as the two of you connected. At fifteen and sixteen respectively, this was the first kissing that either of you had ever done. It’d been wetter and warmer than you’d expected, and Sam’s vanilla chapstick had left the slightest print on your mouth, one that your tongue swiped over obsessively for the next month. Your Gift had chased him for weeks after that, silently and invisibly swarming him every time he entered a room.

Back then, your mind had been on the Curse. But now, you thought about what had led to the kiss in the first place. Sam hadn’t kissed you on a night when your Gift had been crammed down deep where it could bother nobody but you. He’d instead chosen the precise moment where your Gift was most raw, one of Its fingers coming down from the sky to press against the pulse of the future. It was small, but at a time in your life when you’d wanted to claw your Gift out with your bare hands, Sam had gotten the smallest glimpse of It and had fallen in love.

You couldn’t help but see this thing inside him, his Static, and feel the exact same way. His powers were twisted and unavoidably demonic, and yet you kind of loved them. It made perfect sense to you. No one really understood you like Sam did. Now, it's clear why.

-

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1 @pplanetcaravan @notanotherthembo

[starkdirewolflove]

Latest episode of X-Men ‘97, wow.

Omg there was so much going on in that episode can’t believe it was only 36 minutes.

Love square of Jean, Scott. Madelyne and Logan. Love triangle of Magneto, Rogue and Gambit, relationship drama galore.

I find it really amusing that Emma Frost has a front row seat to the drama with Jean, Madelyne and Scott like her own personal telenovela. Love that Madelyne has been forging her own path and becoming a part of the council of Genosha.

There’s a reporter doing a documentary about the X-Men and Xavier’s school. I’m a bit confused about Roberto being there. When we first meet him he’s a young rich party boy, heir to a wealthy Brazilian family that can just take a private jet wherever he wants to go and is ashamed and afraid of people, particularly his mother learning he’s a mutant so he leaves after episode one. Then he’s just always at the mansion hanging around with Jubilee and he’s in this documentary about a mutant school. Is he out to his family as a mutant or does he not care who knows anymore? I feel like this should’ve been addressed at some point.

Things are still really rocky with Scott and Jean, I can understand why he blew up at the reporter, she was being really invasive about his personal life and calling him a liar about having a son. And who was that doctor to make any statement about the birth? The bigot refused medical help to a woman in labour. But then he goes and has his psychic affair with Madelyne, dick move. And he’s been doing this since she left while shutting Jean out then turns everything around on her. Like Jean has been traumatised by what Sinister did to her. She doesn’t know how long he had her abducted, what he did while she was his prisoner, her mind is all messed up and on top of that her husband had a baby with her clone who had completely stolen her life (not Madelyne’s fault, this was 100% Sinister’s evil plan) and the only one who is actually supportive and understanding of her pain is Logan, no wonder she kissed him. Good on Logan for not trying to make the kiss into a big deal, Jean and Scott are married and he respects that even though he’s in love with her. The betrayal from Scott was even worse for Jean because their psychic connection has always been sacred between the two of them and her anchor when the Phoenix was overwhelming her and then he disregards all that because he’s in love with Madelyne too supposedly. Like I get their shared grief over having to give up their baby, it doesn’t give him a free pass to cheat on his wife.

Gambit was such a gentleman throughout the whole Rogue and Magento stuff, even though it was breaking his heart to see her with another man he respected her choice, didn’t try to blame or shame her about it and said they can be friends still. Rogue had a really rough time this episode. From the start of this season I felt uncomfortable with this Rogue and Magento pairing but when she explained their history to Gambit it was even worse because it just sounded like grooming and made Magento a creepy sexual predator. So Rogue ran away from home as a teenager after the trauma of putting the first boy she kissed in a coma and being rejected by her dad, gets taken in by Mystique who gets her to use her powers as part of her mutant terrorist group then brings this vulnerable teenage girl who is afraid to touch anyone to a middle aged man to help her control her powers and instead of doing that he fills her head with his ideologies and because he can touch her without it hurting either of them they become lovers. 🤢🤮 so creepy. Magento leverages the council of Genosha that he will only lead them if he can take Rogue as his “Queen” or co leader to the public, so she feels backed into a corner after seeing how amazing things on Genosha were for mutants now. Then after that amazing dance scene she realises that Gambit is the man she truly loves and what they have is more meaningful and goes beyond being able to touch and she chooses her swamp rat only to lose them both by the end of the episode.

The attack on Genosha was brutal but it was so amazingly done. Cable traveling back through time to try and warn everyone about the attack even though it goes against the rules of time travel, seeing Madelyn for a moment, her recognising him as her son by his eyes and him calling her “mom” as he got pulled back through time. The music, the chaos and panic you could literally feel through the screen, Magneto’s holocaust flashbacks, the Morlocks being trapped and thinking no one was coming to save them, Nightcrawler almost dying saving Rogue and Magneto.

Rogue and Gambit were the ultimate power couple fighting their way to the Morlocks, a better dance than the one she had with Magneto. Magneto saving Rogue and Gambit while he tried to shelter the Morlocks from the sentinel blast, so tragic. Then Gambit saves Rogue from getting herself killed by attacking the sentinel in a rage, takes it on by himself to save everyone and destroys it but sacrificing his own life in the process 😭.

The tragedy is they foreshadowed this in the first episode when Jean/Madelyne went into Trask’s mind and then both Jean and Madelyne got a psychic premonition of the attack just before it happened but were unable to do anything to stop it.

When the dust settles at the end you see the X-Men witness the aftermath of the attack, the few surviving mutants gather around the crater where Rogue is cradling Remy’s body. She’s finally able to touch him but only because he’s dead. “Sugah. I can’t feel you.” 💔

That killed me at the end, was so shocked that they killed Magneto and Gambit within minutes of each other. I know they probably won’t be dead forever but fuck that was brutal.

I know next week’s episode is gonna be Storm centric so we’ll probably have to wait 2 weeks to see what happens with the rest of the X-Men and hopefully by then Storm is ready to rejoin the team. There was a moment in the Genosha attack where Val Cooper is helping evacuate mutants to the gardens and she looks back at the sentinels and there’s this look in her eye that made me wonder is she Val Cooper or Mystique in disguise? We haven’t seen Mystique in the show so far but what if she’s been there all along? Maybe she was afraid of being exposed as an imposter by the sentinels because they’d know she’s not human.

[olderthannetfic]

Hello! Hope you're having a nice time

Would you have any possible thoughs about this analysis?

https://www.tumblr.com/deepseametro/738424190501289984

--

Oh god. A self-described 23-year-old "bisexy" "marxist-leninist evil tankie".

Their whole tumblr is full of stupid ideas and posts that read like "I don't like drama" in that way that means they're the one constantly causing the drama, but it's also full of posts with like 3 notes, so I'm not sure why you bothered bringing this to me, but if you want my thoughts on their... uh... "analysis", okay, fine.

Here are a couple of representative bits:

i think their attitudes and (in my experience) lack of self reflection and refusal to admit that maybe theres a good reason other survivors don't really Love their self proclaimed coping mechanisms is Annoying At Best and upsetting and triggering at worst. --

i think more people SHOULD be asking themselves why they like what they like, and if what they're doing is unintentionally further normalizing these behaviors (because i do think this can happen in fiction!).

So they're a clone of every other 23-year-old moron on tumblr, basically.

As usual, this fool is assuming that others have thought less and know less, but all they're actually doing is revealing how new they are to the entire debate.

It's certainly true that some abusers hide in kink spaces going "If you call me out, you're kinkshaming" while sneakily trying to cross people's boundaries...

It's also true that the exact kind of stupidass rhetoric in this post is used by tons of other abusers to go "See, I'm One Of The Good Ones™. I couldn't be an abuser!"

None of that is the real issue here. The real issue is that plenty of people have thought about this and don't think that horny fanfic is normalizing anything. They've been debating the issue longer than this poster has been alive, and to assume they're n00bs who Just Haven't Thought is the height of arrogance.

The real issue is that it's not a persecution complex to point out how often antis go bother people who were minding their own business.

The real issue is that they say "Other survivors are allowed to not like your coping mechanism", but what this usually means is "Other survivors are allowed to make their feelings your problem."

--

Now, if they think having "proshipper" in a header or something is a sign of incipient wank, sure, block people preemptively. It's none of my business whom they block. DNIs remain idiotic, but that's their problem, not mine.

Just block them. They have nothing of worth to say anyway and you'll both be happier.

[marvelstars]

George Lucas and the prequel trilogy

"I knew if I'd made Anakin 15 instead of nine, then it would have been more marketable. If I'd made the Queen 18 instead of 14, then it would have been more marketable. But that isn't the story. It is important that he be young, that he be at an age where leaving his mother is more of a drama than it would have been at 15. So you just have to do what's right for the movie, not what's right for the market."(George Lucas)

George Lucas may not be a perfect writer but I really liked to see how aware he is of his lack of skills writing dialogue and the fact he very purposely didn´t make a marketable movie with the usual action formula for blockbuster summer films, he´s trying to make an opera story with elements kids would like to see, I personally do think the prequels could have been done better and the passing and some creative decisions could have been changed to make the story more understable, especially the part where Anakin grows into his own as a adult and general in the clone wars and Jedi instead of telling this story in another format because he took more care in showing his fall. We can´t appreciate the fall if he didn´t see his rise properly.

Still I like the fact that he´s purposelly making unpopular decisions but that have a reason for his story instead of using the same old tired formula for action movies.

Everybody was expecting a teenager darth vader, dark but cool and Lucas goes completely left field and shows a kind and generous slave kid who had to leave his mother to get his freedom, who inmediately gets on the bad side of the Jedi Order Council not for a fault of his own but mostly that he´s inconvenient, his existence is inconvenient, the Jedi don´t need chosen ones because they already got rid of the sith, there´s nothing to change here, nothing at all and he suffers the same rejection Padmé suffered at the Senate when she pleaded for her people´s safety.

I think this is so interesting in how Padme(14) and Anakin(9) are kids given adult responsibilities who try to understand the brutal adult world they live in one as a slave another as the leader of an occupied planet and try to make a difference, not quite managing it but seeing things in a very idealist form, just like their children did in the OT, their tragedy is mainly the fact this adult world still has rules they have to follow and try to work within a system that has become stagnant and corrupt, while their children could burn it all down because everything outside of them and their side was evil, this is not the case with Anakin and Padme, they have to pick and choose a not so bad decision out of many bad choices, their world isn´t good vs evil as it was in the OT, it´s grey vs dark and in the end those choices destroy them both but also give the way for their children to fix what was broken in their world in the first place and honestly this is so much more interesting than the classic story of the hot couple who falls in love and saves the day at the end of the story.

[billpottsismygf]

The Legend of Ruby Sunday

Well that was certainly dramatic! A lot of questions answered, but more questions created. It's hard to have a conclusive opinion on this episode because it's so definitively only half of the story, but I certainly had fun throughout. There were lots of really funny bits of dialogue and good character moments, and a lot of drama.

I'd seen a couple of people speculating about Sutekh but I hadn't looked into why and, although I have watched The Pyramids of Mars, I don't remember an awful lot of what goes on in it! From what I recall, he wasn't that impressive a villain so the huge majesty and fanfare he's presented with here is quite interesting. He was a guy with a silly mask on in the 70s and here he's a somewhat ugly CGI dog, but I'm open to seeing how they connect these two versions of the character.

So, we have several people, all women, running around at the moment who have something to do with the mystery. 1) There's Ruby's birth mother. Why can't they see her face? Why was she pointing? 2) Mrs Flood, who turns out to be pretty unpleasant if she's refusing Cherry a cup of tea. Unlike the two I'm about to mention, she seemed to know what was coming and obviously about the TARDIS (and the camera) from the christmas special. 3) Harriet Arbinger, who is a harbinger of Sutekh. 4) Susan Twist, who is... another harbinger of Sutekh? It seems like Kate's chrysalis theory was right with her, at least. Does she serve the same role as Harriet? Is the little boy who was Maestro's harbinger have anything to do with either of them or did he just serve the same role?

Sutekh is apparently the mother and father and other of the gods, which could mean a bunch of things. For one it implies variation of gender, or at least an existence outside of it, which is interesting with the he/him pronouns and yet all these women who seem wrapped up with the plot, as well as the ongoing theme of abandoned children. Carla also called him the Beast before he'd even fully manifested, which of course brought to mind The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit, especially with the soldier who died saying he was in hell. Probably no connection, but who knows! He is also specifically name checked as being Set and Seth from Egyptian mythology. What does it all mean!

Also, how did Sutekh latch onto the TARDIS in the first place? Does the fact that the Doctor mallet whacked the TARDIS to double it in The Giggle have anything to do with the present situation? I didn't like that at the time because she's a living being and he just cloned her(?) or split her(?) or something, but now I'm thinking it would make sense if it connects to how she got infested with Sutekh in the first place.

Speaking of the TARDIS-Sutekh connection, I loved that the TARDIS anagram was so obvious the UNIT team laughed at the Doctor explaining it, which makes the "wrong anagram" reveal even better. RTD knew the fans would work out the TARDIS anagram immediately (which they did) and that it would be a red herring for us just as much as for UNIT! Though not that much of a red herring, since the TARDIS is involved. Is it perhaps a little silly to create your evil secret corporation under a name that might give away your evil secret plan? Yeah, but I like it at the moment.

I'm so glad Susan Triad isn't Susan Foreman (at least, it seems that way). It's another big old red herring. I've been desperate for Susan to return for so long - and I would still love her to, and maybe she even will in this arc - but I don't want her to return like this! Not as a villain and not as someone other than Carole Ann Ford. While we still have her, let her play Susan again! Please!

I am fascinated by this stuff about the Doctor having her before having children... It's been established in the past that the Doctor did have children and that he lost them all (eg. in The Doctor's Daughter), but here Fifteen seems to be implying that he hasn't yet. How does that all add up? I love the idea of having children out of order, and have always somewhat rebelled at the assumption that Time Lords have children in the same way as humans (ie. sexual reproduction between two parents of "opposite" sexes). Gimme Looms or something equally bizarre or nothing, so I'm definitely down for this; I just wonder how it actually makes sense for the Doctor.

I'm so happy to see Rose again! Obviously we knew she'd be in this, but she's a great character and I adored her dynamic with Ruby. Very cute! I loved the Doctor's line about them being two shades of red. I hope they'll develop the stuff of her not being given much to do, as I guess basically a nepotism hire, because I want her to get to do exciting things! On that note, it is odd if she's so kept out of things that she stays in the room after everyone who is not necessary is made to leave. I know she's necessary in that she's a UNIT employee who is important to us, the viewers, but it doesn't quite make sense with what is apparently her role in the organisation.

Saving perhaps the most interesting for last, the CCTV of the night Ruby was abandoned was 66 metres away. Otherwise known as 73 yards. My ears pricked up the moment they said that, though I needed to check afterwards that they were the same, and that surely can't be a coincidence. I don't know if I need anything more about 73 yards, despite my many questions at the end of it, but it could be very interesting if the events of that episode have something to do with the bigger picture.

Overall, fun and engaging episode in its own right, but I'll have to withhold final judgement until next week!

Misc things

Rose says it's been ages since she last saw the Doctor, so we're a while after the specials. Also there was mention of 2004 being 19 years ago so we're currently in 2023.

It's interesting we have two characters in this story (Susan and Rose) who are named after important companions, each the original companion of their run of Doctor Who.

I love that the Trickster got a mention. So many people seemed convinced the Trickster would be the big bad coming up, but at least he got a name check.

I loved Carla's energy in this one! True Donna vibes. She only had to hear of the existence of Rose's mum at UNIT and decided she was also going to be involved.

Susan Triad says she remembers worlds with orange skies, which certainly sounds like Gallifrey, so could there be a Susan connection after all? I noted down that her father was a postman and her mother a dinner lady, but so far have gleaned nothing from this.

I love Lenny Rush! I've seen him in lots of things at this point and he's so charismatic and funny, especially for a fifteen year old. I hope Morris will stay on for a while yet!

It seems strange that UNIT didn't know about Susan (Foreman), since I'm pretty sure we've seen in the past that they have files on all the Doctors, including One.

[yellowocaballero]

I mean,,,, nuttier just means more interesting right??? so it's fineeee

I mean! Like! Yes! Yes absolutely!

I talked earlier about how my characters tend to be kinda shitheads, partly because it's good drama but partly because I like talking about the effort it takes to create the path towards becoming a good person. I can't say, "People who are bad who are more interesting and complex than people who are good", but I think where the characters eventually end up is a person who is good for very, very complicated reasons (Zuko isn't inherently a better character than Aang, but as a character we're fascinated by him more than Aang)(Zuko was formative.).

I think the reason why Cody and Ben got nuttier is because I was building more off a more solid foundation, and I was looking very specifically at how certain life events would create a very specific pattern of behavior, which would create a very specific person. The behaviors that they exhibit as that specific person should be very bad, because their life events have been very bad and the characters don't have the tools to cope well with it. What happens in the story is because of awful people doing awful things to children, and the children who are the result of that. It would be dishonest to avoid showing how the child is harmed. Because a lot of these evil things are A Fascism or A Toxic Masculinity, they create a very specific systemic belief on how the world works and how people should behave. They're very hard to shake.

Ben, who is a generation removed from The Worst People and who also had Actually Decent And Kind Upbringing Til Age 13, has an easier time shaking it off. However, he also has the most batshit insane trauma of all time. Because I re-configured his childhood experiences to reflect that he was raised by genocidal fascists, and also his entire childhood was an elaborate lie, and he's been betrayed by everybody he loves. It creates an extremely specific person. He is the only kind of person that it can create. The storyline of a kid struggling to settle into adulthood is the story of a kid who is trying to decide the kind of person he wants to be: the kind of person he was raised to be, or the kind of person he wants to be. It has to be a journey. It's always a struggle. Ben's story is very much a story about how you have to traverse that horrible black hole of pain in order to get into the other side of becoming a person who is more than your pain. The clone's journey is similar, but it's the act of becoming a person who is more than the horrible actions that you have taken. Neyo's story is both, which is why Neyo is a weirdly central person.

So yeah, you have to be nuts because being nuts is part of the journey you have to walk into not being nuts. If you have the most insane traumas of all time, being a nut is more of a lifestyle than a choice. Also it's fun.

[hiddenecstasy]

ecstasy, my fantasy!

WELCOME TO MY BLOG!

hi!!! my name is ecstasy, im 16 years old, im guatemalan, i speak english + spanish, and i love love LOVE so many things!! i spend a good chunk of my time writing, creating music, or drawing, it all depends on my mood LOL!

i have a lot of issues that may make me come off as offputting or strange. if that's the case, don't fret! that's just me being a little weirdo freakazoid </333

i'm VERY cringy, i selfship a lot of characters with myself, i'm seriously robotpilled, i LOVE making aus for whatever things i like, in fact, i have a lot of au stuff i've been wanting to post!

my interests are...

dance dance revolution

samurai jack

sym-bionic titan

o'grady

metalocalypse

total drama

6teen

sonic

resident evil

postal

manhunt 2

clone high

kevin spencer

nana

gintama

mob psycho 100

south park (MY AU IN SPECIFIC.)

vocaloid (i have an au thing for it 2..)

it would be greatly appreciated if people who like any of those would follow me back, i'd love some mutuals on here!!

[mamawasatesttube]

if someone was to write something about kon using one of your favorite headcanons... what would be in the top 3 things youd want to see someone else write?

OKAY lessee. first off here is my general manifesto on how to write kon ldkfjdlk which is mostly based on canon, not getting into headcanons, but includes just... a lot of stuff people writing fics with him in tend to get wrong imo (making him stupid, bungling his relationship with clark for drama, etc).

i'm really REALLY picky about kon fics. if they add in contrived ooc "kon has beef with clark" angst i'm gone. if they spell his name "connor" i'm gone. if they refer to him as a "clex baby" or lean into geoff's "lex luthor calls kon his son" thing, or any of the stupid "some genes are evil" shit, i'm gone. if they make up blatantly false assumptions about his history without fact-checking any of it (like, assuming he's never gotten sick, or that he's a playboy who loves to sleep around, etc), i'm gone. there is a reason i asked people not to send me fic recs unless we're friends and they know what i like, and it's that i basically don't want to read it unless the author actually has an idea of what they're talking about. which i know might sound harsh but like,,, oh well. if it sounds harsh it sounds harsh.

BUT all that being said!!! as for my favorite headcanons, what i'd wanna see shine really depends on the context i think but i can list a few fav hcs in general?? (<- massively overthinks this kind of thing. sorry. can't help it)

genderqueer gay man kon who struggles for a HOT minute with the idea of fabricated attraction and comp het being behind his early relationships.

guy who loves fibercrafts thanks to ma :) she introduced him to the idea of crocheting and later knitting as ttk practice, and then he got into sewing, lacemaking, etc. he can control a lot of moving parts and it's very cool to watch!!

krypto is his emotional support superdog. (this one is basically canon but still. its important to me.)

ma kent taught him to cook!

this is also canon but it's important to me and i must highlight it: he loves scifi. this is important. especially stories about bodily autonomy and "artificially-made" people. like clones and robots.

he gets migraines from overusing his ttk. of course, what counts as "overuse" gets to wilder and wilder points as he grows and his control and range increase.

he's very particular about his hair routine.

acts of service is one of his biggest love languages.

this is so many more than three already. i am so sorry. i will stop now but omg... man did you know. i like kon :) ty for the question it made me think for a bit!!

[mihimelolz]

The pinned post about me Hello hello :3

★ My name is Neil/mihime/ryan/moon/Andy!

★ I use to they/him/it/its/star/starself pronouns,

★ ���adhd + autistic, INFP-T, minor (14 y/o)

★ i am from 🇯🇵 and I speak English and Japanese👍

★ agender, acearo, bisexual, xenogenders, queer

★ I love do art, animation, stimboard and oc x Canon and founding tally hall or other band or fandom stuff post from 2010s in this app!

★ fandom and Interests I’m in:

tally hall, wordgirl, spooky month, tf2, family guy, Pico school, newgrounds, my little pony, pizza tower, touhou project, your favorite martian, total drama island, splatoon, madness combat, homestar Runner, homestuck, Vocaloid, south park, Friday night Funkin, baldi’s basics, smiling friends, Telly hole, evil hall, lemon demon, super mario, SpongeBob, metalocalypse, the aquabats, they might be giants, happy monster band, hpii, moral orel, roblox, regretevator, the normal elevator, will wood, doctors who, Gorillaz, clone high, scott pilgrim, Parappa the rapper, cuphead, undertale, deltarune, muppets, milky way and the galaxy girls, fandomstuck, Sanrio, andrew kepple’s animation, objects show, fnaf, gravity falls, Pokémon, htf, breaking bad, psychonauts, steam powered giraffe, dandys world, sprunki, oddbods, portal, mouthwashing the simpsons, vs Dan, fallout, ace attorneys, half-life, athf, ihnmaims, the Stanley parable, Futurama, king of the hill

★ my favorite band or artist:

tally hall, lemon demon, will wood, weezer, blur, insane clown posse, korn, tv girl, jack stauber, the Beatles, kmfdm, mitski, slipknot, they might be giants, devo, System of a Down, the b-52’s, oingo boingo, malice mizer, Gorillaz, the cure, cojum dip, mf doom, limp bizkit, your favorite Martian, that handsome devil, strawberry switchblade, Mr bungle, roar, kitties, mother mother, my chemical romance, radiohead, weird al yankovic, the garden, machine girl, aphex twin, bunk-tick, bôa, chonny jash, creature feature, edu, queen, descendents, fake type, goreshit, ghost, hot freaks, lamp, ludo, miracle musical, plus-tech squeeze box, polusics, s3rl, rob cantor, joe hawley (I don’t support him), rob zombie, self, scary bitches, serain poji, the aquabats, the scary jokes, Toby fox, XTC, Green Day, Tyler the creator, deftones, linkin park, björk, Pink Floyd, nirvana, daft punk, the smiths, steam powered giraffe, a verbal equinox, the stereosexuals, Operation ivy, reel big fish, of Montreal, heavenly

★ DNI!:

-Tallyshipper & pro/Darkshipper

-dream smp Stans

-Joe Hawley Supporters

-n$fw artists (it’s okay to say n$fw joke)

-AI “Art” account

-weirdo bot

-lgbtqphobia & fatphobia

-f3tish artist

-zionist person

-dsmp fans

-Alfred playhouse fans

-boyfriends webtoon fans

-weirdo person in the fandom

-furry hater

-z00 and p3d0 person.

[jess-the-vampire]

Probably an uncomfortable request, but could you please explain why Hunter is not popular because of supposed “white favoritism” or other such nonsense?

Well, ok, i'm not going to assume there aren't fans who might indeed act this way about the characters of the show, because I'm sure there are.

The show isn't perfect in itself, i feel the criticism aimed at some of the poc cast is fairly justified.

I do, however, think it's a bit unfair to claim that hunter's race was the only reason he's popular though. I mean, that kinda assumes hunter has nothing about his character that would appeal to others and i disagree.

I mean, take it from my perspective, as someone who is fascinated and invested in hunter, philip, and caleb as characters, all white characters.

What got me invested in the show was their interpersonal drama, all the tragedy and heartbreak and emotional chords personally hit with me. I tend to love stories like hunter's in shows, he's not the first character I've enjoyed with similar arcs and growth, and philip's fascinating character evolved from tragedy and what happens when the worst kinda people are left to hate without anyone to help them grow.

all of this appeals to me, and it most likely would have still appealed to me had they not been white. (Though, they are the only characters in the show that had to be white given the historical aspect)

I'm sure it's similar for a lot of others, hunter has a lot of the most compelling lore, and his story resonates with people (Let's be fair here, people tend to latch onto abused angsty characters). Like, c'mon now, hunter, belos and caleb had SO much lore about them in the fandom that most of the rest of the cast don't have, it's understandable why they got so much attention when they were so tied into the backstory and lore of a show. Of course people are screaming about hunter being a clone, it's a massive reveal and extremely dark! people eat that stuff up!

I think we just gotta remember people will have different things that appeal to them in characters, a character that might appeal to you, might not be for someone else. Even if hunter's story wasn't to your taste, it was for others, and i think we should understand that before assuming he has no other appeal to an audience then his skin.

I mean, amity is a fan favorite as well, and given she's also been accused of the same favoritism, it would be fair to assume she's also a favorite character of mine right? i mean, if logically, the only reason i feel this way about the tragic trio is their skin, then i should like amity more then characters like luz for example.

Except no, i've never been really big on amity, i think the mean girl turned good trope has just never been a trope that appeals to me that much. It certainly is a popular one, i think because people love redemption stories and once again, latch onto abused angsty characters, but she wouldn't personally rank my top 5 favorites in the show.

Same could go for eda, or lillth, who are white coded, but also not personally my favorites even if i understand their popularity.

i resonate with luz the most of the cast, and have probably the most in common with her, and i think she would rank above those three even if she's not my favorite character overall in the show.

I think we gotta look at these things with some nuance sometimes, just like how people who love philip as a character are not evil monsters and can have many reasons to enjoy his character, same goes for hunter that has nothing to do with his race.

you're not a bad person if your favorite character in a show just happens to be a white one, sometimes that just means they're a well written character who works for you and that's just it.

i think that favoritism should indeed be called out, especially when it's warranted, and of course it could play into why the show is the way it is or why the fandom is the way it is so i can't dismiss it entirely.

But we also shouldn't state it as a fact either, not without more compelling evidence at least.

And if you ask me at least, i think it does a disservice to hunter to think he of all characters has nothing else going for him.

[put-me-out-of-my-destiny]

I'm having thoughts about a plot starring Trish, Lucia, and Lady. Posting them here:

The enemy faction is an organization devoted to fighting demons, similar to the Order of the Sword, but with more of a modern military aesthetic. They were a bit of a fringe group up until the Qliphoth incident, after which they received a massive influx of enlistees and funding.

By some means, they learn about the original Nightmare, a demon created by Mundus from his own blood, that had the power to destroy the Underworld by itself. They also learn of Trish and her origins, and seek to secure a sample of her blood to create their own Nightmare, perhaps even multiple Nightmares (this is based on another old idea of mine).

Much of their intel was fed to them by Machiavelli, who I've pitched as a villain for a plot starring Vergil and Dante in the past. However, I actually think he'd be more of a begrudging ally to our heroines. Machiavelli is a war profiteer, but this organization wants a weapon to end all weapons, to start a war to end all wars, and that would render him obsolete.

Trish and Lady would both be highly distrustful of Machiavelli. Trish and Dante parted ways because she felt responsible for Enzo Ferino losing his hand to one of Machiavelli's creations in the Drama CD. Lady herself spent a whole month possessed by one of them in DMC5. Come to think of it, Trish is the one who brought Artemis to the Qliphoth in the first place, you'd think she'd feel terrible about what happened to Lady based on her reaction to what happened to Enzo.

They might try to sway Lady to their side, she's an ordinary human who relies on human-made weaponry, they think she's like them. However, she doesn't find humans inherently more trustworthy than demons. Her father was born human, after all, and most of her friends are at least part demon, especially the very demon these people are trying to exploit.

The organization has a contract with the Ouroboros Corporation. It's new CEO is actually a clone of Arius created by the same means as mannequin/secretary demons like Lucia. There's an element of tragedy to this character, he's pretty evil, but he was never given the choice to be anything else. Trish would relate to him, maybe she'd try to reach out to him the way Dante reached out to her. I don't imagine he's entirely aware of what this organization is planning, he wants to use demonic power to rule the world, not to destroy the demon world. If he found out, perhaps he too would become a begrudging ally. But I don't think he'd choose to abandon his evil ways if given the chance.

A leader in this organization is a surviving family member of Eva's, perhaps a parent or a sibling, who blames Sparda for her death, and wants a piece of this mysterious demon wearing her face. Trish might try to explain her real origins, and this character is just appalled to learn that their sister gave birth to two half-demons, assuming they'd even believe Trish.

While Lucia loves Matier very much, and is grateful for the love she's been given, there's tension between them due to how long Matier hid the truth about Lucia's origins, which comes up again after the reemergence of the Ouroboros Corporation and Arius.

One mechanic from Dante's DMC2 moveset that should transfer to Lucia is the Desperate Devil Trigger, also called the Majin Devil Trigger. A major source of internal conflict for Lucia is a fear of completely giving in to her demonic nature, of losing control of herself and becoming a threat to others. While this fear is mostly irrational, suddenly gaining a more powerful devil form, one that manifests in dire circumstances where Lucia is fighting to survive, would validate that fear.

A piece of lore I've speculated about before is Anima Mercury, described in DMC4 as an 'artificial soul'. I could see this organization messing with that, essentially utilizing robots. Perhaps this includes a return of Infested Tank and Infested Chopper.

I've talked before about how a female-led DMC game should focus on the notion of given v.s. chosen family, and I think the ideas given so far could serve as a vehicle for that. Trish is being targeted because of something her maker did. Lady's motives are heavily informed by her experiences with her human father and with the demons she calls friends. One antagonist is a mannequin demon like Lucia, made in the likeness of the man who created and disposed of her. Another antagonist is Eva's next of kin, who disapproves of the family that she started with Sparda. Lucia is reconciling her love for Matier, who chose to love Lucia when she was discarded by her maker, with the fact that Matier lied to her about it for her whole life.

Also, what if Gloria was a real character who moved to this organization after Trish stole her identity, infiltrated the Order of the Sword, and helped bring it down?

[totaldrama-showdowns]

Submissions for the Non-Human Showdown! Including ones that are invalid!

Fang (x2)

“🦈🦈🦈”

“He's Fang ❤”

Cody Jr (x2)

“Cody Jr! No! Not Aunty Heather!”

Mr Coconut (x2)

“The og. Should have won every season /serious”

vince the alligator (x2)

“SWEEEEP”

“The lore… so immaculate”

the don box (x2)

“bzzz i have a stupid fucking clue for you. ah fuck the interns put me in a lame outfit again”

“what id don on about he's slaying in that shirt”

wt pineapple (x2)

“ALEPINEAPPLE FOREVER!!!”

“👅🐍🐍🐍🐍”

Irene the fish (x2)

“shes so beautiful i’d kiss her too”

“The final remaining member of Team Victory after DJs elimination, Irene went on to win the million and the hearts of many.”

the chrarry baby (x2)

“Goo goo gaa gaa”

“ive got my eye on u chris mclean”

Princess Beth Doll

“I WANT TO BUY ONE SO BAD IRL!!!!! Also, this too is yuri”

Old Jester from reboot S2ep9

“I love when Damien hugged him! That's scene is soooo cute. Also I love fluffy animal!”

Bobo :)

“SEASON 2 SPOILERS Bobo is the name of the bear that had the Raj mask in season 2 episode 12 :) idk I just think he’s silly”

DJ’s bunny

the Chris-shaped cake that Julia's group made

“I wanna eat that thang”

Dramarama Cody

“He's an alien”

Theodore (MK's stuffed unicorn)

(the arts and crafts) Shed (from season 1)

“shed sweep”

that evil little seal from wt

“sooo little and evil. who can hate him”

caleb rock

“possibly the best version of him out there”

the skull duncan carved for courtney

“you cant deny how iconic it was”

eva’s mp3 player

“the most important character in td history”

heather’s various hairstyles

“possibly the most diverse and versatile entity in td historu”

pahkitew island

“The best one”

Myself

“:^)”

ryan seacrests car

“very fast”

chef's car (total dramarama and gen 4)

“MY CAR!!!!!”

alien clone cody

“AAAAAAA*explodes into green goo*”

chris's wig

“wiggin”

heather's wig

“wiggin”

total drama yum yuk happy go time candy fish tails

“You ate it!”

trents five finger shirt

“5”

princess courtney CD

“all the greatest hits!”

owens butt

“fart”

anne maria’s hair style

“Ey im walkin here”

bridgettes surfboard

“BONK”

the fake antlers from the paintball ep

“Duncney”

manitobas fedora

“served!”

beary <3

“it’s LITERALLY beary”

ripper’s world record breaking fart

“he did it”

the portrait of cody as blue boy in wt

“funny looking”

sierra’s pizza box-cum-laptop*

“she uses the internet AND eats witj it. shes a genius”

*Mod Note: this refers to cum meaning: combined with; also used as (used to describe things with a dual nature or function).

waynes accent

“Eh we play hockey eh”

mal ventriloquist doll

“aaah im evil mal doll”

alejandro puppet

“we do a little trolling”

Chef 2.0

“He made him from a cashew”

Mt. Kīlauea

“She has the mercy to have her lava not hot enough to kill Alejandro, Ezekiel, and that random intern like... Everyone say "thank you" or somethin idk. Do you think she feels bad that Alejandro ended up in a robot suit because”

Immunity idol s4-5

“They ruined it's design in the reboot boooooooo”

MK's infernape

“Listen, she's a gamer and she's based. She would totally pick chimchar in bdsp. She probably hates people who tells her to "play platinum" because that was a game made for old people.

Try and exclude this submission, I dare you. There's nothing that says I can't submit theoretical non-humans. There's a non-zero chance that MK has an Infernape and I know it's been raised to have some awesome sneaky move. If you exclude this, I bet you'd allow "Mike's Torterra" because only a grass type fan would be a fire type and MK hater!!

Julia would keep her piplup unevolved and beat her console into tiny bits when she gets to Cynthia btw”

the drone of shame

“[picks up victim and flies away] wheeee”

that giant bowl of rice they fall into in japan

“mm giant bowl of rice”

noah’s dog

“his epic dog”

celine dion cardboard cutout

“love fucking wins #duncney”

the face huggers from Area 51

“rip tyler”

ezekiel MISSING milk carton

“Sad! He died.”

the eagle chris shot and killed

“someone arrest this man. again”

the confessional

“it’s always there for you”

geoff’s splinter

“OW”

the bread from codys pants

“man i need to rewatch island. i fucking love the pants bread”

That ice cream snowman from SMS

“LISTEN. JUST BECAUSE HE IS FROM THE EPISODE THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN NOT GIVE HIM HIS RESPECT”

bear

“the one from raptear specifically. let's go lesbians”

that pizza chase threw the challenge for

“clearly he should be with it rather than emma. chemma? chipper? chazee? nope never fucking heard of them”

Momma's Spice

“*sprinkles it on op's head* mmmm tasty”

The Gilded Chris award

WT barf bags

“give a real f to those guys. never appeared after episode 7.”

the toxic marshmallow of loserdom

“killer of staci's hair”

The lavatory confessional

“bitch is iconic. 6/8 is a passing mark!!!”

Courtney's PDA

“why wouldnt they call it a phone idk but its so camp”

The Cassowaries

“Male cassowaries are responsible for raising the young. We love an involved father.”

Fire-breathing winged mountain goats

“You could make an Undertale reference with this (also they're really cool)”

Giant Beetle

“Dott shippers will like this one”

Mutated Maggots

“They're pretty cute!”

Six-Legged Rats

“ADORABLE EEEEEEEP!!!!”

scott bird

“what a beautiful bird”

Chef's car

“It may play a role in mkulia canon”

Gethin

that rainbow porridge in episode 8 of the reboot

“aw hell naw chris cookin up the gay porridge”

The cassowary that fell in love with Zee

“We love an iconic single mother looking for love”

The rat in the cargo hold that appears on screen for 0.5 seconds during Ezekiel's solo in "Come Fly With Us"

“That rat really carried the whole song. Iconic. Astounding. Never before seen talent. Lady Gaga is shaking in her Demonias.”

The Erymanthian Boar

“It wrecked Duncan's shit in Greece.”

The dock of shame

“So many teens walked on her, i think she deserves some recognizion”

gwen's blender necklace

Zoey's hamster (Miss Puffycheeks)

“It's cute and can punch a cat, need I say more?”

[baenyth]

Bethany's Bizarre Miraculous Reviews Episode 3-23: Felix

Ah, yes. PV Adrien. Except not really. And he knows he wasn't created the usual way but that's for later seasons or something. You ever think about how Felix with the Black Cat Miraculous would be Felix the Cat? I think of that constantly.

Does anyone have a scan of that bar of Marinette and her classmates that scrolls up quickly in the title sequence? Thanks in advance.

*Puts a wedding/magic ring around my basically dead wife*

Yippee! Natalie and Adrien smiling and waving at eachother!

Yippee! Communication between father and son!

Damn. One measily year? Really shows how short of a time Ladybug and Chat have been out for. Puts her KOing some time in Late April or Early May too based on my calendar for Miraculous.

EVERYONE IS HERE!

The Amelie reveal was pretty fun, honestly. Also they know damn well Adrien and Felix are clones.

Ring drama. Ring drama.

Yes! The perfect thing to say! Confess to him! Rip off the band-aid!

So does Felix dislike Adrien because he's servile to his father? Shouldn't he hate Gabriel instead then?

Why is Felix such an asshole? Why does he hate everyone? For what reason? Just because they weren't created by the Peacock Miraculous? Where were the other video messages?

Luka being amazing as always. Fine with whoever Marinette ends up with but will be there if she's alone. That's why he's the GOAT.

Natalie's still siding with Hawkmoth and is happy to akumatize people. Points docked.

Here comes the disrespect. How come Hawkmoth can just do personalized akumas instead of akuma groups? And why those old models? Oh right. Budget.

Love me a clone gun conundrum!

Natalie fighting off the Akumas on her own. Credit where it's due, swag.

Oh. That's who's who. In hindsight I should've checked the rings.

Seriously? Sexually harassing the woman trying to save you?

Bro's literally risking the apocalypse for Gabriel's rings. You won't be free if you're erased from reality alongside literally everything else.

So Hawkmoth can just ventriloquist through his akumas now? And they no longer have vengeance for Felix?

Oh hey! Someone getting properly punished for their actions and realizing they were at fault completely! Hopefully! I'm sure this will keep on happening, at least for Felix!

*Steals your ring*

He's so mad about it too lmao

I'm glad I got to see Luka. And Kagami for a split second. Also Felix is definitely an interesting character, to say the least. Was the "posing as evil Adrien" thing supposed to help Adrien in the long run? Was this all one big long master plan? How far down does the rabbit hole go?

[thesilliestspy]

Well, I forgot to introduce myself so I’ll just do it now that I have the chance.

Hello, I am Ali’s mitosis clone. My name is Evil Ali. What I do is hate whatever Ali loves and love whatever Ali hates, even if it’s against my will.

Anyways, how’ve you been?

@fixedsenseofboring

And I though I wouldnt have to deal with zhe clones. Foolish hoping I suppose.

I have been doing... subpar for zhe most part. Zhis place is either filled with drama or something else arguably worse zhan zhat. I enjoy drama most of zhe time, but zhis just hurts to watch. It is embarrassing in a way. I have never suffered from secondhand embarrassment, but I do now.