#seriously the timeline is in SHAMBLES

[detectivemiku]

never gonna forget this moment from episode 1099. that's referencing something from episode 304!! a full TWENTY-ONE YEARS apart and they're acting like it happened LAST WEEK. "the other day" babes that's two DECADES ago

[lil-bri]

Something not quite right

a/n: I’ve decided that, instead of simply putting my thoughts and headcanons and ideas as simple and quick drafts, to just instead start actually writing it all.

summary: Kuai Liang’s (Sub-Zero) last thoughts about Hanzo during the timeline resetting.

warnings: hurt/no comfort (?), canon character death, probably not properly tagged, angst. not necessarily written as couple, could be considered as platonic and viceversa.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was all happening so fast. The world, disappearing around them. The trees, the sky, everything, all turning into nothing in mere seconds. Had Kronika won? For the Elder Gods, he begged not.

Maybe Liu Kang had won? Maybe he was now restarting everything with the Hourglass. Restart everything. All back to zero. Would he remember his life? Would he remember his family? His parents, his brothers, his friends and the people important for him. Would Kuai Liang be able to remember any of them? Probably not. But if he didn’t remember anything or anyone, what about…

Hanzo.

It felt weird. Knowing he would probably not remember him. That didn’t seemed all that fair, did it? After all their years of rivalry, of hatred. It took them more than 10 years to finally feel comfortable by each other’s side, to be able for Hanzo to let go of his rage. To manage it in a healthier way. And now, all of that effort would end up in the trash. Like garbage. It suddenly all felt useless. All that effort spent in helping each other and themselves, it would now all be thrown away.

And it made him feel indignation. On Hanzo’s behalf. On Bi-Han’s behalf.

This just wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t they all just have normal, peaceful lives? When had it all went to shit? Kuai Liang felt like a petulant child throwing a tantrum because he didn’t got the toy he wanted. But it still didn’t felt fair. Why couldn’t they just have peaceful, calm lives?

Bi-Han didn’t deserve to get blamed and murdered for crimes he didn’t commit. Hanzo didn’t deserve to have his family murdered, get tricked by that sorcerer and have his rage be misguided for years. Didn’t they deserve a happy ending too? When did things get so complicated?

‘I wonder what you would think, Hanzo. Would you be angry too, if you were still here?’

Maybe, in this new timeline, things will be better. Maybe Bi-Han won’t suffer for something he didn’t do. Maybe Smoke won’t die this time. Maybe Hanzo…

Or maybe they wouldn’t even know each other this time. Or maybe this whole train of thoughts was useless after all.

[twicecut]

Man. I enjoyed watching TUA S4 because I got to do it in good company and I loved Klaus' bits, he never disappoints, and the sheer never knowing what will happen next was fun... But the more I think about the conclusion, the more sad I get.

Rant/analysis about why this sucks so bad under the cut. I'm upset with myself for still being upset about this lol. Ugh.

I think I could be okay with all of them dying or the idea that they will always cause the apocalypse as long as they have the marigolds, but I think what really wrecks it for me is still just the message that there are people who the world is better off without (and it isn't the abuser).

There are so many ways that I think the end could have gone, both with giving the Umbrellas another chance to live and fix the timeline or, if they really wanted, killing them all, that didn't make the journey getting there feel pointless.

Nothing can hurt me as bad as the Doctor Who 50th and invalidating Nine and Ten's pain by undoing the choice to destroy Gallifrey, or all of the nonsense The Last of Us pulled in the sequel and the TV show, but, boy, if giving the Umbrellas no choice but to die and saying their growth doesn't actually matter because this was always the only way to save the world doesn't hurt in a very, very similar way.

It's just sad, you know? Because now I'm going to look back at past seasons I enjoyed and look at the characters and their struggle and know it's going to be worthless.

Luther realizing his abuse and breaking free of Reginald's hold over him? Doesn't matter. He dies in the mansion he could never leave and doing precisely what Reginald and Abigail wanted, just like the good little soldier he always was groomed to be.

Diego gradually learning to stop being such a lone wolf and accept help from his family? Doesn't matter. His family is in shambles throughout the season, he never gets to say goodbye to his kids, never gets an apology from Five or Lila, and dies with a wedge between himself and the one other person who has cared as much about protecting their family as he has. Nevermind that he also never gets to properly grieve or process any of his losses since season 1. He starts angry and ends angry.

Allison honestly doesn't even have positive growth except, maybe, when she argues that they can't just give Klaus his marigolds back without his consent. That was nice. But otherwise we never see her really acknowledge that she can't rumor her way to happiness because the show never gives her that opportunity. She starts the show angry and upset because she lost Claire and her husband, and ends the show constantly angry and upset because she lost her husband and is losing Claire.

Klaus learning to get sober and stay sober for himself without the incentive of seeing Dave, learning to value himself and love himself enough to want to be healthy, and be someone that he can love who can be good a good uncle for Claire doesn't matter. He's triggered into a relapse and while that is fine because I think it handles his addiction more seriously than in past seasons, he never gets the chance to get on his feet again. He starts an addict without control and ends an addict without control.

Five never gets a break. He starts the series frantically trying to get back to his family and stop the apocalypse and ends it with the only realization being that his nonstop effort was meaningless. He can't save his family, he can't stop the apocalypse, and he's alienated and alone because everyone knows he had an affair with Lila, and Diego hates him, and how can he even be sure Lila didn't use him? He knows no peace from beginning to end and dies, yes, with his family, but alone because he made a mistake and decided that he cared more about his feelings for Lila than he cared about hurting his brother (seriously? I'm not even mad about the affair, I'm more upset that Five is written to think that he deserves to keep Lila once they get back... "I want to kill [Diego]" really??). Five chooses to doom his entire family, to kill them all, to stop the apocalypse, because he's depressed and tired of trying and apparently that means all their lives are forfeit.

Ben... Gosh. There's truly no closure for him. Both Bens die with a wedge between themselves and someone in their lives. For Umbrella Ben, it's a deteriorated relationship with Klaus, but I think even he got a kinder ending. At least he hugged Viktor and seemed at peace with his choice to sacrifice himself. His death saved a life. Sparrow Ben, though? His life is owned by the government, he's forced to socialize with the killers of his family who refuse to see him as anything but a person he isn't and will never be, and can't seem to get it through their thick skulls that his family is dead and he misses them. Then, when he needs family and is so scared that he'll accept the killers of his family as friends, he's too far gone to save. He dies scared and alone and probably in massive amounts of pain, conscious of the destruction and death he's causing but trapped within the uncontrollable monster that both Bens had always been afraid they truly were inside.

Viktor's agency is taken again. He gets to be mad at Reginald and say his piece but the only time he ever gets an apology is because Reginald sees Viktor is powerful and decides he should have trained him like his siblings. Viktor isn't worthy of being seen because he's a human being, he's worthy because he's useful. He dies knowing that it isn't enough to be himself.

Lila... I admittedly have never really liked her, but I realize now that's mostly because I never liked how her relationship was framed with Diego in S2 and 3, and that I didn't like that so much of their screentime and growth revolved around their romance rather than the other characters. So even though I liked her more this season for the fact that we were no longer treating her red flags as sexy, I think she was immensely squandered and never has any substantial growth. Her character stagnates because it again revolves around her romances. She lies time and time again, never communicates, shuts down any of Diego's efforts to, belittles him and treats him like an annoyance, and blames him for their crumbling marriage despite being the half of the relationship that isn't turning up for the life they built for each other. She starts the series living a double life and using and hurting Diego for her own benefit, and ends it exactly the same. It makes sense for her character given she was raised by the handler, but, wow. She really is never given the opportunity to see how self-destructive she is or get better. She's continually reduced to the manic, sexy, femme fatale girlfriend trope and never gets the chance to be anything else.

Every one of them once again falls under Hargreeves' will. Their agency is stripped from them again because it's death or running from apocalypses forever and ever. They end practically if not worse than where they started. And Reginald? He presumably lives out his life happy as a clam, free of consequence, because of course he was allowed to exist in the Correct Timeline alongside The Handler and the Swedes.

TUA used to be about the idea that no matter how broken you were and how often you messed up or how dysfunctional you and your family were, you can get better and you are worthy of being loved and accepted. It was the idea that you are affected by your abuse and sometimes that is ugly and it hurts people, but you are not your abuser. Then season 4 spat in the face of all of that and said, no, actually, the abuser of this story is actually a good man and was right all along. It says these abused, traumatized, broken people are all the failures their abuser thought they were and the world would be better off without them. They have to die because the only thing that's keeping the world from becoming a beautiful utopia is the fact that they are living in it. Who cares how hard they've fought to survive? Who cares about their struggle to get better?

I'm all for imperfect media with tragic, unfair endings. I'm all for, sometimes, villains getting away. I'm all for narratives that say life is often unfair and things go badly. But the original spirit of The Umbrella Academy was not that and this nihilistic ending where the abuser is right when it spent so much time in previous seasons insisting he was a monster is. It's just so backward. It looks at its own narrative and calls the audience stupid for believing it, or caring about the characters within it.

I dunno, man. I need to stop being upset about it, but I just cannot believe that Blackman thought this was a good ending. I've tried so hard to give him the benefit of a doubt and understand what he was trying to say with this, how any of it makes sense, but I can't. I don't understand.

[pilferingapples]

started re-watching LM 2K with some friends who also make terrible life choices

went in honestly thinking , Hey! maybe I am forgetting things! Maybe it's not as bad as I remember it being!

well 1.5 hours into this 8 hour fever dream and I can say. I was forgetting things all right! quite a lot of things! but whoo boy I owe Past Me an apology, this is bad and every new Thing I Had Blocked Out Of My Mind makes it worse

Thoughts, While I Have Them:

why does it start literally on fire

I'll give John Malkovert this: he does seem disturbingly horny for the idea of inherent traits and inborn social hierarchy. Beeblevert didn't really seem to know what to do with his phrenology displays; Malkovert whispers to them lovingly at night and probably licks them. This guy feels about eugenics like Grantaire feels about Enjolras. This guy is messed up.

( ...filmmakers know that when they've got someone with lots of human skull measurements and phrenology and Types of Human displays, they're saying that character is into eugenics, right? I'm not saying it's a bad move, it can be very accurate and telling ,but like. They get what that's doing there, right? RIGHT???)

The dialogue...is bad.... it's so bad...

"yellow is the color of happiness"

this timeline is a shambles. Fantine doesn't have Cosette until after Tholomyes is gone, and then apparently holds out for YEARS in Paris, since Cosette is if anything a little older than her book age when Fantine meets the Ts; meanwhile Valjean doesn't get out of prison until AFTER Fantine has moved to M-sur-M. Which of course means there's no factory for her to work at!

...but then after Valjean (very intentionally) steals from Petit Gervais, we cut to Fantine working in the factory. The Nettle Cloth factory . Which means Fantine was doing SOMETHING before Valjean showed up to Disrupt the industry with his Tech Breakthrough but like. What. If she was doing something else then why doesn't she go do that some more after she's fired? Because she very much doesn't, she goes right to attempting sex work...badly

like trying it with Javert first Badly

and then he threatens to arrest her but doesn't?? who is this man, what kind of Javert is he ffs . Letting a Poor go unarrested? Seriously this doesn't even scan with his characterization in this series

Instead he starts stalking Fantine and giving her Helpful Hints. He comes in right after she has a client?? and tells her to go to the circus??

She goes and finds the dentist and tries to get him to pull TEN of her teeth bc for no reason he's giving 4 francs a tooth instead of 20 for the fronts. The dentist is the only character in this show with sense and says NO THAT'S TOO MANY TEETH, and he just cuts her hair instead And listen we've got another Fantine with Mostly Straight Brown Hair , it's not even that long, and I'm sorry but there's NO WAY that's worth more than teeth, why do adaptations keep doing this

also why do they keep making Fantine so passive, so dependent on people telling her what to do? She makes bad choices sometimes--often even!-- but she Makes Decisions and fast, she goes all in without any pushing, that is a defining part of Fantine's character! but everything she does here gotta be because someone told her she Should

another one where Javert inexplicably goes to M sur M to see Cosette. Why? What possible reason for this?? he almost seems like he has a weird crush on Fantine rather than JVJ but that's. That's incoherent, for this character. even in this series!!

I've written so much and haven't even gotten to Valjean officiating a wedding for, apparently, a famous former sex worker in the town ? this is mentioned once and I don't think it'll ever be relevant again

1.5 hours in, Points For: a very cute little donkey, Petit Gervais having his Marmot, some very nice architecture, Baptistine existing

Unpoints for: everyone's bafflingly inconsistent characterization, the absolute mess of a timeline, Myriel still living in the palace but letting homeless people sleep on the floor?? , lots of very pointless Walking Around Time , Thenardier Sex , why do directors think I want to see them get it on, Please Stop

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Thirteen

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Through watery eyes I see Joel's jaw set tight and I quickly come to terms that I might die here too.

The truck grumbles down the road filled with abandoned cars and debris, and I'm honestly surprised it's lasted us this long. The engine's roar is enough to fill the truck's silence, so that I'm not suffocating from it. Joel and I haven't exchanged a single word after last night, and that's fine with me.

My eyes are glued to the green exit sign that I know we'll be taking and my stomach churns with nerves. Tate said the Fireflies are in shambles, which is nice to hear, but I hope that Trevor is still there and he's willing to answer. I know that I'll have to feign amicability with the Fireflies, but if it means I'm closer to unraveling this mystery then I'm about to be the nicest visitor they've ever met.

Joel stops the truck a few miles away from where the Fireflies should be and sighs heavily. Maybe while I'm gone he'll just drive away and leave me be. Sure, I'd be alone and more vulnerable but I also wouldn't have to put up with his secrecy that hangs over my mind like a dark cloud. Gathering my bag in my hands, I think through the questions I want to ask and what information I really need out of these people. The truck's door squeaks as I hop out, and Joel stays put.

Without checking to see what he's doing, I start heading towards the building the Fireflies claimed. They're easy to find, they practically guide me there with their graffiti spraypainted on the side of every building. Admittedly, the streets are suspiciously empty but that might be due to their declining numbers.

Behind me I hear the slam of the truck's door and heavy footsteps come up behind me. My pace doesn't falter as he catches up to me.

"The hell is your problem?" He asks and I stop in my tracks. My body turns fully towards him, eyes wide. He sure has some nerve.

"What's my problem? What's yours Joel? You're the one who's keeping some sort of secret and you're the one who didn't want to let that kid go last night." The words that fly out of my mouth are probably a bit too loud, but I can't seem to care in the moment. He can't seriously think that our issues are my fault. His cheeks flare with blood, his eyebrows crease harder than they usually are.

"He could've come back to kill us." Joel's voice is low and serious, and I fight back the strong urge to roll my eyes.

"You know he wouldn't have. He was running towards a city that's fallen with nothing but the clothes on his back. He was harmless, it was plain as day." My hands begin moving as I talk, my temper getting the best of me. He huffs in response and goes to keep walking, stepping a few feet in front of me towards the base. Angrily, I turn on my heel and stride towards him.

"Thought you hated the Fireflies, why are you even coming?" My voice is bitter and I think I would have rather had him stay in the truck or better yet, drive off without me.

His broad shoulders tense up as he keeps on the path to the Fireflies, opting to ignore my question. It feels like the blood in my veins is boiling but I push my anger away as I see the main doors of the base. This argument will have to be settled later.

I pick up my pace to reach the base before Joel, not wanting him to be their first impression. His irritability and rough demeanor is not how I want this to start off. The man outside the base points a gun at us and I raise my hands instinctually to show them I'm not a threat.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?" The guard barks out and I speak before Joel can get a word in.

"We need to speak to Trevor." I call back to him and he keeps his gun aimed at us as we continue approaching the doors.

"What business do you have with Trevor?" He questions again, and I plaster a fake smile on my face but I hope it comes off as genuine.

"We have information regarding an operation he's conducting." I keep my answer vague enough so that it's believable, but I leave out the part where I'm going to interrogate Trevor for his possible involvement in the slaughter of children. After a few minutes of silent debate, the guard puts his gun down and beckons us to follow him into the base.

The base is dilapidated and it's obvious that things around here have been rough. There's an overflow of trash piled up in some corners, discarded cans and bags lay all over the place. A ripped Firefly flag hangs from a doorway, acting as a makeshift curtain. The guard leads us through the first floor and up the stairs to the second level. The old wooden stairs creak with every step we take, and I'm half convinced I'm going to fall through them at any given second.

As we make our way through the second level, there are some Fireflies that watch us with curiosity, others look at us with skepticism. Everyone is quiet as we pass through, all of their conversations coming to an abrupt halt. Joel's presence can be felt behind me, he's practically right on my heels as we walk through the place.

Finally, the guard leads us to a closed door at the end of the hall. My heart pumps heavily as I wait for it to open. Footsteps sound on the other side of the door and it swings open, revealing an older man with a receding hairline. He doesn't look very friendly, his face is morphed into a scowl and he gripes at the guard, asking him why he's knocking at the door and not down keeping watch. The guard tells him about our exchange and the man's beady eyes land on me and then on Joel.

"Come in." He opens the door wider and I enter the room with a small thanks.

The room is chaotic. There are maps hung over the walls, all marked up with different circles, lines, and shapes. On the old desk there are dozens of papers scattered and torn. Shredded curtains cover the windows, or try to at least, but there's a steady ray of sunshine that beams into the room, making it hot and stuffy. As Joel steps in, the man closes the door behind him.

"Who are you?" The man wastes no time in getting to the bottom of things.

I smile once more and channel the hospitality in me. I extend my hand and introduce myself. He's kind enough to take my hand and shake it, and he ignores Joel who stands leaning against the far wall with his hands crossed across his chest. I'm thankful he's staying out of this.

"Nice to meet you-?" I prompt the man for his name, hoping and praying he's who I'm hoping.

"I'm Trevor." He walks behind the messy desk and leans forward on it, his weight being pressed down into his palms as he keeps his eyes trained on me.

"Trevor, it's a pleasure. Now I'm not going to waste your time here, I'm hoping there's a way we can help each other out." I push a stray piece of hair out of my face and maintain eye contact with him, noticing how his eyes travel all over my face and down my sweaty chest.

"How so?" His eyes snap back up to mine, narrowing every so slightly.

"I've been travelling for a while now and came across this group of raiders or something. They weren't like normal raiders though. No, these people all had the letter T carved into their skin." I fabricate my story in a way where it seems I'm oblivious to every shred of evidence in my bag. I want to see what he gives up about these people first before I start playing my cards.

"Okay?" He asks, not understanding what I'm getting at.

"Well, I found some Firefly tags in their camp. Seems like they were almost targeting you all." I lie to him again and notice his jaw twitch, but he recovers smoothly with a nod of his head.

"Interesting. Yeah, we've known there are some raiders about and some of our people have left. But, they haven't tried to attack us yet. Thanks for letting us know." He's not going to give anything up it seems. Either he doesn't know about the operation, or he's covering it up. In a desperate attempt for information, I ask one more question.

"Yeah of course. But there's nothing you know about them? Where they might be located? I'd really like to avoid crossing them again." I rub a hand up and down my arm like I'm scared of seeing them again. Trevor scratches the back of his neck,

"Well, no not really. Sorry." His answer is short and he glances down at the papers in front of him as he speaks. I notice a bead of sweat running down the side of his forehead and he makes no move to wipe it. Nodding my head, I quickly start forming a plan of my next line of questioning, pacing back and forth a few steps as my brain scrambles to come up with anything. I think I'm going to have to be bolder if I want the information I came here for.

"That's okay. Tell me Trevor, why would they have a note signed by the Fireflies in their possession?" My pacing ceases and Trevor's shoulders tense up. His gaze meets mine and I see a darkness in his eye. Now I might be onto something. He tries to recover his composure,

"What kind of note?" He asks me, slowly walking around to the other side of his desk. I take two small steps back and shrug,

"I don't know, most of it was burnt up. But I could read a little bit of it. The word immune was on it and QZs were mentioned. Didn't really get to make out a whole lot." I feign ignorance, trying to see what gets him talking. Trevor sits on the edge of the paper-covered desk, a hand on his chin.

As he thinks, my eyes glance up to look at one of the maps taped to the wall. I recognize it immediately as an exact copy of the one that's in my bag. My jaw sets tightly and I try to keep my look of indifference on my face. Trevor definitely knows, there's no way he doesn't. He shakes his head and his voice breaks the momentary silence,

"I really don't know about that one." He's shutting me down again, and I know I'm down to my last resort. The façade of kindness falls from my face and I know that sitting across from me is a man who knows all about the killing of innocent children. My fingers itch to grab the knife from my holster, but I refrain for now. I clear my throat and step towards Trevor this time, knowing I need to get under his skin. A photograph on his desk shows me how I might get him bothered.

"Well, maybe Marlene knows. I worked with her a little a few years ago but I heard she's out here now, she's pretty high up there in rank, she might have a clue." I lie again, knowing full well that she's dead. A photo of her lays amongst the documents on the desk, it looks like she's smiling in it. Trevor's eyes have turned almost black as he looks back up to me.

"Marlene is dead." My lips curve down into a frown,

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know how she died?" I try to get into his head this way, make him mad about my questions and his dead associate. Trevor's knuckles turn white as he balls a hand into a fist and I see Joel shift out of the corner of my eye.

"She was murdered. She was out in Salt Lake City at the hospital and a maniac shot her." I fight to keep from looking to Joel. He's told me that he was with her when she died, but maybe he was withholding some other information about what happened.

"What was she doing out there at a hospital?" My voice almost cracks as I ask. I know my questions are getting off track, but there may be some sort of value knowing this information as well. Trevor shakes his head with a bitter laugh. We're locked in a staring match and I know he's onto me. He knows that I'm aware of more than I'm letting on and he's done playing the game. Which is fine, because I've grown tired of the game myself.

Within the blink of an eye, I grab the gun that's holstered on my thigh and point it towards him, flicking the safety off. Joel moves again out of the corner of my eye, but I keep my focus on the man in front of me. The only thing that's on my mind is getting as much as I can out of him. I repeat my question again, my tone becoming low and the man in front of me sighs.

"She was out there trying to make a cure. We were back in Boston together about a year ago and she found some girl that was bitten but never turned. Unfortunately for Marlene, she was injured and couldn't take the girl herself, so she hired someone else to get the girl from Boston to the Fireflies out west. I left as she was setting up the deal. My men who were there tell me that the man she hired gunned down everyone in that hospital to get that girl back from the surgeon. Then he shot Marlene and took off with the girl." My blood runs cold in my veins but I can't afford to lose my composure now, there's still stuff I need from him. My mind is working a hundred miles a minute, there's too much information to process at once. Too many things are coming to light and I can't focus on unpacking it all right now.

"So why do the Fireflies want the children in the QZs dead? And what do these other people have to do with it?" My finger twitches on the trigger, throwing all sense of secrecy out of the window. A twisted grin spreads across Trevor's face,

"Someone's gotta pay for Marlene, someone's gotta pay for jeopardizing our shot at a cure. I'm going to make sure they pay the same price she did. It's only fair, after all." I shake my head, not understanding what he means.

"Those children have nothing to do with what happened to Marlene." I say, my voice becoming louder and rougher. I step forward and press the gun to the man's head. He glares up at me and grits his teeth as he speaks,

"One of them does, and they'll kill all the children they can just to find her."

Before I can get another word in, there's a loud bang that resounds through the room and the man's blood is splattered all over my front. As if time were moving in slow motion, I look down to see the man collapsed on the floor, his blood draining out rapidly, pieces of his brains scattered on my shirt. I'm frozen to my spot and feel someone's arms wrap around me and push me back behind the desk.

Seconds later, the door swings open and gunfire sounds everywhere, echoing off the walls. I shake my head and come back to reality and realize that the Fireflies left in this building are all coming down on us. Something in my mind switches and it's like I'm back on patrol in the QZs, my movements are on autopilot.

I peek over the desk and quickly aim at a woman rushing in. My trigger finger twitches and I send a bullet through her neck. She gurgles and falls to the floor, but another Firefly is quick to take her place. They shoot at me, but I make my shots count. The way I'm positioned behind the desk gives me the upper hand, and I'm able to shoot the Fireflies as they enter the room before they can see me.

I lose count of how many bodies I shoot down without a second thought. The building is now eerily silent, there are no more footsteps coming up the stairs or down the hall. Carefully, I stand and peek outside the door with my gun drawn, confirming that there are no more.

Once I'm satisfied with the lack of Fireflies, I turn back and see the carnage. There are at least twenty people all piled on the floor, lifeless. My eyes drag from their bodies to the map on the wall, now splattered with blood.

With a reeling mind I leave the room and head back down the stairs. Trevor's words replay in my head over and over and over again and my palms get clammy, my stomach starts turning as more pieces of the puzzle begin hastily putting themselves together.

My hands push open the base's front doors and I breathe in the fresh air and stumble away from the building. There's a sturdy tree just off to the left and my feet drag over the pavement to reach it, chest heaving as I begin hyperventilating. I haven't killed a man in over three years and now I've just slaughtered a dozen. And if that's not bad enough, I think Joel might be a madman.

Quick and ragged breaths enter my body and I'm unable to get control of myself. What does this all mean? My thoughts are cut short as the base door opens again and Joel strolls out, rifle in hand. He meets my wide eyes and tilts his head to the side with an unreadable expression on his face.

Scrambling to move, I push myself off the tree and urge my feet to start running. I don't know where I'm going, but I need to get away from Joel. I sprint the fastest I can, but it's no match for his speed. His boots thud on the pavement as he comes after me, and he wraps a strong hand around my wrist to halt my running.

It feels like my shoulder is pulled out of the socket as I'm jolted to a stop. I turn around in his grasp and try to wrestle myself away, but I can't. He's too strong for me. Through watery eyes I see Joel's jaw set tight and I quickly come to terms that I might die here too.

Part Fourteen

[resident-gay-bitch]

Jay's Fic Recs :)

these are all wonderful, wonderful fics i have read and think you should too <3

(if they are on tumblr i’ll drop their url so you can find all of their things :)) some of these links go to Ao3 and Wattpad as well)

happy reading!

STRANGER THINGS:

Eddie Munson

June Baby singlemum!reader x eddie - this is so cute, please give it a read it makes my heart squeeze.��@luveline

Love Bites vampire!eddie x fem!reader - this is just very cute. highly recommend if you want a vamp fic with not too much monsterness @luveline

Worlds Apart eddie x fem!reader - this is timeline accurate, but naturally veers from cannon because character is added. you had broken up with eddie four months prior because of a horrible dream, the events of season four happen and it brings back deep dark feelings and a whole lotta love. cant really say much else without giving it away. @munsons-maiden

Meet The Munsons stepbro!eddie x fem!reader - okay, this one has me in shambles. it’s great and not gross. i loved the tension in this and the finale was just MWAH *chefs kiss* @mypoisonedvine

FREAK eddie x oc!jay - Jay is from Australia but she moves to Hawkins and meets Eddie. They fall in love, yadda yadda. long multichap. follows timeline, but starts in 1985 post mall fire. lotta angst, lotta hurt, looootttttaaaa comfort. they heal eachother. there are heavy themes in this so read the warnings. @resident-gay-bitch

Gareth Emerson

Too Late gareth x fem!reader - readers been in love with Eddie but he starts dating Chrissy and she turns to Gareth for comfort and ends up catching feelings for him instead. very cute. lotta angst. @resident-gay-bitch

Gareth x Eddie

Pretty Boy ftm!gareth x eddie - oh my god. i love this so fuckin much. so angsty and so much pining i live for this shit. honestly, reading this has made g x e my fav st ship, probably even my fav ship ever. childhood best friends tropes always get me. go give it a read :)) @dylanwritesgood

My Starboy closeted!gareth x oblivious!eddie - gareth loves eddie, always has, always will. but eddie’s straight… right? - lotta angst, lotta unrequited love and pining. so much heartahce. this has quite mature and explicit themes, so make sure to read the warnings before each chapter :) happy readings @resident-gay-bitch

Steddie

Jay’s Steddie Fic Recs- sorry, the list got too long so i had to create another page for it :) good news though, you wont run out of steddie fics here.

Clarkson

Drabble? wayne munson x scott clark - we don’t know where this came from, but we know where the fuck it’s going. please hop on the scott x wayne train because the seats are comfy and the view is beautiful - seriously, more people need to write for this - this peice is magnificent - we need fanart for them PLEASE @unclewaynemunson @flowercrowngods

MARAUDERS:

Marauders

All The Young Dudes wolfstar & jily - best fic ever, hands down, written by the gods. read it weather you like the marauders or not.

Crimson Rivers jegulus & wolfstar - hunger games au - i know this fic has been archived but it just needs some more recognition because it’s AMAZING

Wolfstar

Text Talk sirius x cf!remus - modern no magic au. sirius accidentally texts the wrong number and ends up catching feelings for the random boy behind his phone.

[polyhexian]

I think it would be funny if they gave no real warnings to the BATTs but the Marlet and Golden guard teamed up and took out Belos. Like Raine has been careful this whole time to be subtle and so has Darius and everyone they work with in the rebellion and then they just get a call in the middle of the night that half the castle has been level and Belos is dead.

Like Darius just gets a call about the attack and they’re like the emperor’s dead and no one can find the golden guard or the Marlet who was scheduled to be brought before him. And Darius is on one hand relieved that Jasper probably got away but also the emperor’s dead and that’s probably put a huge target on Jasper’s back.

Raine just hearing about it on the news because they’re not a coven head yet. And suddenly the Marlet not responding to any of their calls makes more sense since he had obviously been captured by the golden guard but now the government is in shambles and no one is ready for the after math.

I highly doubt there’s any official line of succession so the emperor’s coven might just start ripping itself apart but Also I think a lot of people would think the emperor’s right hand man should probably take charge except they can’t find the golden guard.

Will also probably wouldn’t like to in charge anyway.

I would actually say in runaway au he's not actually the Martlet; his main goal as the Martlet was to free hunter but... Now his goal is to just protect Hunter and keep him away from danger. He doesn't need a secret identity. I think he probably DOES help the rebellion sometimes or independently undermine the emperor's covens power or rescue some wild witches but-- primarily he is trying to stay under the radar. Provide hunter the best possible childhood he can while on the run.

In eventually I really had Raine engage much more openly with the rebellion earlier in the timeline because jasper becoming the Martlet means HE is much more openly and violently rebelling. Its kind of moved the timeline up for certain parties as the seriousness of the situation is realized earlier.

In runaway... He's not openly rebelling so much. He's under the radar. And with will in the picture he's doing his job, which means we have ten more years of an adult golden guard in charge.

Oh, Lilith would certainly know him then. Bet she doesn't like him either.

I think this actually leads to a much stricter government. Belos has wanted persons to hunt, he has golden guard who can exert his will more firmly and farther. And probably a Belos thinking cutting breaks is a mistake. He needs to be stricter. So I think perhaps we have a big increase in fascism in the boiling isles. Open rebellion like the batts is probably a LOT riskier. So what IS Raine up to, hm...

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Heart? Mended

Crops? Watered

Hotel? Trivago

No but seriously, this was such a good ending 😭. I’m so glad these boys got out of their heads long enough to confess. And the League knowing how much of a simp Shigs is for Dabi while Dabi just sat in his brooding corner for MONTHS is gold. Now I understand why Shigs got so tense when Dabi mentioned collars, homeboy thought Dabi went through the presents box and had seen it. Can just imagine his mind all “ABORT ABORT YOU’VE BEEN DISCOVERED! HEAD BACK TO TITLE SCREEN” only for Dabi to just go back to business. Oblivious Dabi will always be my favorite Dabi.

Now to read it all again with context to Shigs thoughts!

Thank you so much for writing such an amazing piece! Can’t wait to read what else your brilliance conjures up!

I'm so glad you liked it! I had to give them a happy ending, it's kinktober and it's what they deserve!

As for the collar, things get a little squishy with the timeline around chapter 6-7 but the collar conversation was set before Shigaraki bought it. That was the conversation where he fully realized that if he ever confessed, if Dabi ever accepted, he could actually have a collared sub. He was so stilted in that conversation because he wanted that very badly but had never allowed himself to think it.

Thank you so much for your support throughout it and I hope you enjoy whatever shambles out of my brain next!

[lemonhemlock]

Helaena being a child bride at the age of 13 and having children so young is wrong and gross no matter who the father is, but antis act as if a 15 years old Aegon marrying and fathering children on her is morally better than a 12 years old Aemond. It's not as bad, but just…barely? Neither option is superior and just discussing about this is so weird honestly. At the end of it, all three of them are children. I'm also going with the book age regarding all of them because the show is a mess but it should be pointed out the writers did in fact ALSO age down the twins' age, there's no way they're older than 3 or 4 years old at most and whoever claims the opposite is just trolling or has never seen an actual 6 years old in their life, yet this doesn't stop antis saying "oh look they want a 10 years old Aemond to have sex with his sister." Yeah Aemond should be 16 years old in the show since the timeline simply doesn't allow him to be older (but they probably messed up and didn't mean to do so), but the children are definitely like 3 years old and not 6 like in the book, but evidently this is not proof of anything. By the way, the age thing is even more hilarious because when it comes to his romance with Alys they will then argue show!Aemond is 100% 18 years old at least since they don't want to see a 16 years old teenager to be involved with a 40 years old woman.

I'm with you on the age messes... there's also the Doylist explanation that GRRM is just not good with maths and ages in general, so a lot of this crap can be attributed to him trying to squeeze in as many characters as he can in a certain time frame or his editors truly not bothering at all. This is how we end up with so many children acting out adult plot lines. The amount of child brides and teenage warriors is a genuine weak point in his writing. If you seriously want to engage with his work, you're kind of bound to integrate this in the whole picture? It's fucked up for Helaena and Aemma to be giving birth at 13-14, but it's also equally ridiculous for a teenage Aemond to turn into a killing maniac or for 15-year-old Jace to take charge of the war effort or for 14-year-old Daeron I to be orchestrating military conquests. Like, you know that people are not shipping tween helaemond having kids.

There's such a thing as movie ages, which is what most people work with when it comes to shipping anyway. The Dawson casting in HotD is also obvious, so what are we doing with this argument at the end of the day? Varchie nation in shambles as well, judging from how many times Archie and Veronica have boned as "minors" in Riverdale, too. I'm sorry, ma'am but those people are 24-28. As if aging them up in your fics/headcanons isn't an option anyway.

But, yeah, it's funny how the age argument only works when it comes to helaemond but for other ships it's crickets.

[vonlipvig]

Ranking the Not For Broadcast epilogues from happiest to bleakest, in a completely subjective and possibly contradicting fashion, because Man Some Of These Are Bad In Wildly Different Ways:

(Below the cut, because obviously, spoilers)

The 'Actually Good' Tier:

An Accord: My first epilogue, and to me, the canon ending in my heart. This one truly has it all--the truth has been exposed, democracy has been restored, and of course, the team is back together again. Maybe politically it doesn't sound quite as immediately great as the next one, but it's a step in the right direction, and c'mon, seeing Jeremy and Megan fills me with absolute joy.

A Brighter Future: PM Katie Brightman would have my vote for sure! Universal Basic Income, 4-day workweek, climate change being taken seriously, territorial independence, and more? Yeah, sign me up! Also, it seems to be set in a distant future, since this is Katie's third term as PM, which means it's really been working! Only thing bumping this one down from the top is that Jeremy is dead, so it's a rather bittersweet victory for everyone.

A New Leaf: Hey, Bannon! You're alive! Regardless of whatever ordeal he's been through, it's great to see him back (and finally as an anchor! Took the gang going to jail for it to happen, but oh well lmao). This one is pretty similar to the last one, with Katie being the frontrunner, and we have Julia being put to trial, which is deserved. Pretty alright, as endings go.

The Middle Ground: What is the most neutral ending doing this far up? Well, it gets Worse lmao. But yeah, this one is honestly a bit similar to An Accord, expect that poor Jeremy isn't offered his job back. Still, we've got democracy being respected, the news are showing the Actual News, so in my book it's pretty alright as well!

The 'Hmmm' Tier:

A Renewed Mandate: Here it starts to get a bit...hmm. Julia gets reelected, which...I wouldn't have, personally, but hey, that's democracy for you (unless there's trickery going on which oof imagine). But at least it seems that things are not as terrible as they could be. Sure, it seems Advance is really going for that 'we're all one territory' shtick, but it looks like at least other countries are choosing to join? Idk, still a bit too imperialistic for my tastes, but it does get worse.

Julia's Judgement: You might be asking 'why is this one so low?', right? Bannon is back, democracy is restored, Julia's facing criminal charges, all seems ok. Yeah, NO, that Hamilton-Mann guy is about to be president, and sorry but that seems MISERABLE. I mean, at least people had the right to CHOOSE but uhhhhhhhh, yeah no, have you heard that guy speaking? Scary stuff.

All Fall Down: This one and the next one are the hardest to place in this list for me, because they're...bad, clearly, but how bad is hard to ascertain. This is the one where the country is reduced to just a heavily fortified Territory One, and in one hand, I'm sure they're having a bad time due to the war and all, but hey, at least the other territories are finally taking back their rightful independence. But yeah, not a great time for the citizens of T1 who didn't even ask for any of this.

Inevitable Advancement: This one's funny, not even gonna lie. Sure, everyone is sterile, population numbers are dwindling, everyone is stuck with this terrible government with no possibility of an election...but something about Julia going 'MESSAGE TO ALL CITIZENS: PLEASE FUCK' just sends me into hysterics.

Under New Management: I don't care that there were elections here, this one just sucks ass. The CH1 team just gets fired and replaced, and holy shit, 'how many guns are enough?'? THIS SUCKS GET ME OUT OF THIS TIMELINE. Megan looks so gorgeous tho, mwah.

The 'What the Fuck Oh my God' Tier:

Chaos Reigns: This one's pretty bleak, not even gonna lie. The country is in shambles and nobody is safe, but at least Megan's out there doing her best to keep the people informed (possibly with Jenny helping her out? I can dream). Still, it seems like everyone is fucking miserable, so it lands down here in the terrible tier. I can't tell if it's bleaker than the next ones or not, because they're very different types of bleak (and anyway, the next ones hurt me personally lmao).

A Better Jeremy: LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO MY BOY! I don't care that this one and the next one might seem like happier futures at first (cause we all know how much Megan and the rest can act like everything's fine when it clearly isn't fine at all), THIS ONE IS SO EVIL, Julia's like 'look we brainwashed and tortured this guy until he became a hollow shell of his former self!' and everyone has to be like 'YAY! SOCO!' like HOW FUCKING EVIL AAAAAAAAAA.

Jeremy's Injustice: I DON'T CARE THAT POPULATION NUMBERS ARE RISING AND THAT EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND WHATEVER, THEY JUST MURDERED JEREMY DONALDSON IN COLD BLOOD AND COVERED IT UP LIKE IT WAS AN ACCIDENT OR SOMETHING. THEY'RE MAKING MEGAN HAVE TO SMILE THROUGH THIS WHEN THEY KNOW FULL WELL SHE KNOWS THEY KILLED HIM. I'M GONNA RIP THEM TO SHREDS.

Wacky Fun: THE EVERYONE IS DEAD ENDING! All your faves died horrible, violent deaths (and some of them had to watch as others died!), there are no news anymore, the country is probably as fucked up and in disarray as in some of the others, and the only thing you can watch on TV is the most unhinged and manic children's programming. Still, this one has Geoff Algebra suffering, which is better than most of the epilogues here can offer.

Changing of the Guard: Nope nope nope nope. Fuck the military dictatorship ending. Worst possible outcome, you can't change my mind. Bad.

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian fem reader & other characters.

#TAGS: trauma. talks of character death. hopelessness? mentions of prostitution. no appearance of canon characters because this is an intro. hunger games reference!

#NOTES: hi! still alive, just not writing for kny atm because my head is like a powerpoint presentation with all my hyperfixations and i can't write for requests when it is on another slide. hope that makes sense. this is the first chapter of my megatron x reader, a strangers to lovers to enemies featuring pre-war cybertron, a magnanimous amount of lore, a lot of non-cannon stuff like sparklings and stuff because i can do whatever i want, and my flickering motivation to finish it. i don't have a specific transformers i'm basing the timeline off, so we will see. i thought of publishing it on ao3 or smth but i have better judgement so i just figured i would upload the first chapter on tumblr. the new transformers movie was soooo good and it inadvertently rekindled my transformers obsession. enjoy? let me know if you like it, i would appreciate it if you have questions or anything :) THIS BITCH IS LONG SO BEWARE

part two | part three | part four

"Y/N, my optics hurt."

"I know, sweetspark, I know."

This place reeked. Pure flowing smoke and vapor, stinking energon, and the smell of the gray coal and ash that powdered the laborers' and miners' bodies like scintillating glitter filled the pavements of that day—such fragrant poetry. 

The barely perceivable light that shone down could not even be called proper illumination in the first place. Every once in a while, the wells of your optics danced up to gaze toward where the sweltering sunlight was supposed to be.

Still, your spark did nothing but wail at you when, each time, all that you caught were mountains upon mountains of pitch-dark vapor, dull particles of dust from the mines, and the visualization of the austere whispers of despair and anguish among the workers of one of the mining towns from one of Cybertron's Primus-forsaken satellites, Nuna 5PY.

Even if you turned to look towards the downtown streets, the particles infiltrated your vents and blistered your optics.

Some workers used gas masks, while others retreated to the mines, where the synthetic stench wasn't as foul, but most were forced to return to work. They snatched up energon everywhere they could, recharged in fits and starts among their screaming. You seriously needed to leave.

As Vaportrail coughed onto the city street, you held her small servo. Even with the torrential acid pouring last night, the smog got to her well before the rush hour. 

You realized things would not improve today, so you hurried in fear of the younger developing tear-streaked optics and a headache to match. It saddened you that Vaportrail would never know what a normal life would be like. It was as though they had collectively given up years before she was born, which was unjust to her and all the future sparklings. 

You grabbed her and pulled her into the cart. Traveling was enjoyable, but not at the price of introducing additional hazardous particles into the environment. 

Mining Outpost R–02 was one of the towns from Nuna 5PY, where unnamed members of the lower classes labored interminably, tediously. The gloomy, smoky shambles of a metropolis required the Communication Grid to communicate with other areas and locations simply. It was no place for a sparkling. 

The infant cybertronian lay quietly on the sulfurous mine carriage attached to the railway, more vulnerable than the glass that was painstakingly constructed for the masses of the High-caste buildings and just as giddily colored.

You wondered if her peds are dirty; how would you know? You pondered what she ate back when Starlight was still living in this downtown slum; where did her mother get energon to nourish her? 

Your servos were callous from several scars and defects, and a part of you ached to sweep her up in her arms and shelter her eternally. But. How could you ever live with yourself if you didn't allow such an innocent being to live a tranquil life?

"I'm sorry about your carrier," You told the sparkling wistfully, making sure she was comfortable for the long ride from here to where your late best friend wanted her youngling to go if something ever happened to her. You gave her a small pad which contained personal information like her name and situation, along with a plead for somebot to take her to safety, "Cybertropolis is a nice place, just make sure you reach the police station safely, they'll know where to take you." 

"Thank you," Vaportrail squeaked out, her knees pulled up to her chest plate. 

The train inevitably started, and you walked in tandem with the slow speed of the carriage just to get a good, final look at the sparkling's dainty, cheerless face. Vaportrail would surely be a problem when she got older because all of the mechs would swoon over her—deservingly so.

With those optics and a grin as charming and gauzy as that, she was the very picture of the youthful beauty who had once bored the name of Starlight. You believed she was the sweetest femmeling on the planet.

"I love you, okay? And I'm sure your carrier is so proud of you. Good luck!"

Eventually, you had to withdraw from the train, which only allowed you to stare at the vanishing small frame of a waving Vaportrail, whose response had been forever lost in the sad, sepulchral winds of the town. 

Despite that, you could still stare at the sparkling's naive, callow features and find colossal gratitude and admiration in its place, which made a lump form in your voicebox and squeezing palpation beat inside your spark chamber.

With Vaportrail gone, the smell of blazing smoke burned your olfactory sensors and induced you to cover them with your suitable servo. You had never before realized that the shrilling blare of the injectors, the drills, the massive excavators, and the wheels of the trucks could be so overwhelmingly loud, either. From the corner of your optics, the flashes and instants of the sparks that aimlessly flew around whenever metal met metal brought you out of your bewildered daydream. 

But then you turned and saw the portrait of shattered ambition, lost hope, undetermined origins, opaque bitterness, damaged honor, futile dreams, and wavering will that assembled the cybertronians of Nuna 5PY.

It was a blow to the back of your head.

Starlight was dead.

If you closed your optics, you could still see the glow on her metallurgical protoform, the spark that no longer burned, and the sound of her laughter that still reverberated in your audio receptors and processor.

Oh, you missed her desperately. 

She'd spent her days as a young and daring cybertronian who didn't let the vacillating shame of her prostitution career ridicule her or anything she was. A good, pleasant, and kind femme that thrived and existed, only for some mech to tear her from her home and forever close her laughing optics. She was a femme, a friend, a sister, and a carrier.

She was someone.

"Oi, femme!"

You knew that whoever was calling that word in such a degrading manner was referring to you and you only. You were aware that you were one of the few femmes working on that hellhole.

Sourly, you turned your helm to the source of the voicebox and found your boss—if he could even be called that—staring at you rigorously from across the street. Other mechs were beside him, and in their hungry optics, you could see hunger, amusement, a blatant lack of respect, and other things—all of it for you.

"You said five minutes. Start moving your aft before I tell someone to move it for you."

The group of despicable mechs started laughing at the humorous, unique, spectacular, utterly not-ever-done-before knee-slapper comment. You wondered what comedians told to get a chuckle or two out of their audience nowadays. 

You detested yourself when you started walking back to the mines with crystal-clear coolant forming in your optics and with the words caught inside your voicebox.

Even the clicking of your battered timer had a languid touch in the fading light of their (your) chamber as if it were a spark-beat at rest. The perpetual rhythm of it became more of a white noise inside the transparent yet spurious safety surrounding your beguiling, chimerical space bubble. 

The memory of the lingering perfume of Starlight's aromatic utensils saturated you far more intensely than it did only days before, making you want to pound and bang your head against the wall until you ran out of energon inside your body.

Your spark chamber was wrenched apart in the core by a hollow cavity. It had been there for forty-eight groons. Faithless and cynical, the pit that took form inside of you pulled you to the very depths of your revolted mind.

You were immobile, your bare servos lying at your sides and your digits tinkering with the berth. Everything within the room drove you crazy and made you want to tear out your optics under the scrutinizing, deep-rooted omnipresence of both the carrier and the sparkling.

Vaportrail was not napping on her carrier's bed; her small chest plating was not rising and falling according to her mellow, smooth breathing. You remembered how she would spring from Starlight's berth just to greet you after every single burdensome solar cycle of nothing but suffering under the cruel comments and sometimes spiteful actions of mechs and their superiors. 

You knew and understood that she left for a better life in Cybertropolis, yet you just can't comprehend why you are not hearing her dulcet giggles and her voice as soft as a feather.

"Y/N, look at me!"

You turned your helm lightly toward the soft-spoken sparkling from your spot on your berth. 

One of your stabilizers was crossed over the other, your servos snuggly behind your helm. Due to your horizontal position, you were seeing Vaportrail in a somewhat awkward manner, whispering something to her carrier excitedly, which made you turn your whole frame so you were resting against your side, lifting your helm with your right servo.

"What is it, V?"

Vaportrail, who had her mother's laughing optics, stood proudly atop Starlight's berth beside her laying figure, servos on her hips and grin on her dermas, meekly waiting for you to look at her so she could show her spectacular stunt.

She was no bigger than a mining pickaxe, which is why she was never let out of Starlight's and your’s shared chamber. She was still tiny, even for a youngling her age, but that was not unusual, as the impoverished environment and the mediocre energon didn't do much to help anyway. Primus knows what could happen to someone so small and so weak.

Her confident, puffed-up stand made you laugh casually, as while typically Vaportrail was a modest sparkling, never one to demand attention or directly ask for what she wanted, whenever she got like this and let out her inner childishness for the silliest of things, both you and Starlight would get tons of laughter out of it.

"Go on! Show Y/N what you've been practicing," Starlight encouraged.

When you nodded at Vaportrail, signaling that your attention was entirely on her, her optics lit up. She walked towards the end of her carrier's berth, planting her peds at the very ends before turning around. 

Vaportrail crouched, and with a slight push from her servos and an impulse from her peds, she successfully rolled forward in the berth, landing on her bottom before scrambling to get up and putting her servos up in the air, muttering a small 'Ta-da!'

You had smiled warmly, watching Vaportrail giggle to herself giddily. Starlight clapped for her and swarmed her in a big hug, proud of her sparkling and happy that she had gotten her little trick right. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. You wished you could be this happy by doing something as simple as a gymnastic maneuver.

Vaportrail cheered along with her carrier, excitedly thumping her peds against the surface of the berth. Then she turned to look at you, her optics gleaming with happiness. "I did it! I did a forward roll!"

"Oh, did you?" After your rhetorical question, you languidly returned to your original position, lying with your back plates on the berth and your servos behind your helm. You cheekily turned to Vaportrail and Starlight, a sly, good-natured smile pulling at your dermas; you closed your optics. "I wasn't looking."

"Y/N!"

Both femmes happily laughed at the moping undertones of Vaportrail's voice.

"Just kidding!"

That day was a long time ago, at least it seemed to be; it felt like it. Those words were spoken in the same chamber you slept and resided in. That comical stunt was performed in the berth across from yours. They were not here anymore. Even if you wished they were back together, that deceitful dream would only be achieved by death.

No one can pursue their dreams or be free enough without it. Freedom is for the rich because dreaming costs money.

Starlight wasn't there to hold her youngling and hug you when you needed it. You weren't hearing her voice either, singing lullabies to help you both fall into a much-needed recharge. Her presence was so needed, so sought; in places like this, femmes like her were what one needed to forget about the harsh burden that was the act of being alive. To think that only forty-eight groons before she was still living, she was still here. 

Her memory made you miserable because best friends comprehend you like no other. Starlight was overly protective and brutally honest—as if she ever needed that. You felt so enraged and resentful at not being there to protect her that you feared you might break. 

Although you dug Starlight's grave, blatantly refusing to let the body of your best friend turn into waste parts or scrap metal, a part of you still suppressed the image. One day, you would properly weep for her, but first, you had to accept that she was truly gone. A part of you would never be able to accept that Starlight would never appear, skipping around a corner to tease you for falling for her clever joke.

‘How can she be dead?’

Harsh knocks against your metal door made you jerk from your position on the berth.

"08, are you in there?!" 

The boisterous tone of the mech standing behind your door made you remember that you were still real and breathing inside your crude, undeserving, unworthy existence. Your bubble-turned crystal cocoon inevitably started collapsing at the reminder that life could still go on without Starlight because, after all, no cybertronian knew who Starlight is—was. No cybertronian knew who Starlight was. The world moved on without her.

Without thinking much, you got up from the cold berth, chills flourishing in your metallurgic skin before walking the small distance towards the oxidized door and swinging it open. You would not have considered the thought of opening (being too engrossed in your self-pity and wallowing in grief, you know?) in the first place was it not for the genuine undertones of chipper motivation that were painted over H–01's usually harsh, asperous voice. 

Wait, why was he at your door anyway?

His hulking, rusted frame was as corroded as ever, and it was honestly a little sickening to look at. Despite the awful veil of dust and ash that littered him, the grayish, crimson, and dull turquoise glares of his deteriorated paint job could still be peeked at; his wheels were decaying, and his melancholic optics had lost their love for life— as had everybot else's.

Ancient as a cosmic star and twice as intelligent, with his towering structure and terse personality, H–01 was by far one of the town's most elderly seniors—and, may you add, one of the most cordial. 

You remembered the day you first arrived here, back when you were still an inexperienced femme in life, gullible, back when you dreamed dreams. 

After an accident in your old work establishment,—one of the mech coworkers had stepped over the line with you, resulting in a mining pickaxe protruding from his knee plate and a lot of energon spilled around— you had been sent to Mining Outpost R–02, and H–01 quickly took it upon himself to become a mentor of some sort as you shared letter unit. 

You recalled that he laughed as he had never before when you told him the story of why they had banned you from your previous workplace. Later, you met Starli—

"08?"

You blinked owlishly, and realizing that he was calling out to you, you grounded yourself and met his preoccupied gaze.

"What did you need?"

He frowned at your mediocre attempt at lying. H–01 was by no means stupid, and sadly, you didn’t give enough credit and didn't acknowledge how easily he could pick apart your facade, layer by layer, until your shell was utterly ripped apart.

"Kid, I may be rusty, but I'm shrewd enough to know that you're not well." You became conscious of how absurd you must have seemed in his words. He continued. "I'm sorry about your friend and her sparkling."

There it was again, that funny feeling, that blow to the back of your head. You felt your spark wail painfully, and your limbs tensed up, your optics frantically searching into H–01's face plates for any sign of mockery. You found none. You almost crumbled at his sincere words until your response was unwillingly driven back to your tanks when the piercing siren started blasting across the halls of the chambers.

Instinctively, you covered your audio receptors at the discomfort. At the same time, H–01 merely stared into the speaker device right up against the wall, a bit far away from them. From the corner of his optics, he saw many of the workers exiting their chambers, each of them confused, some of them covering their audial receptors as well, and others staring, irritated and visibly vexed at the gadget that was currently stripping them of their much-needed recharging hours.

The workers of the 8th unit, otherwise known as the H unit, approached the oldest mech from their division, questioning themselves about what was going on. Their optics wilted, and there was a slight lolling to their helms, drunk with weariness after a session of an endless cycle of mining.

"01, what's going on?" One of them asked rather loudly, trying to shout over the siren, coming up to them just as you got used to the loud siren and pulled your servos away from your audial receptors. 

You moved out of the entrance of your chamber to shut the door behind you, joining H–01 by standing beside him. They shared a brief glance, one filled with puzzlement, the other brimming with uncertainty. But before anyone could share their answer or even make a single move, the horrendous blaring of the alarm stopped. 

The speaker against the wall went completely silent, and a single red light started beeping. The Cybertronians looked at each other, baffled.

Someone talked via the speaker.

:: Attention, all workers. You are summoned to the patio at this instant. Once you reach the area, stand in your respective branch line and don't question your current predicament; ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining. I repeat: ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining ::

I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave.

That was what you were thinking when you, H–01, and the others walked among the congregation of cybertronians—you would have said mechs were it not for the few femme 'nurses' among the outer lines of the crowds, who as far as you were concerned, were the ones who took care of the workers who suffered minor accidents like infected optics, fractured limbs or something along those lines. 

It was not like they counted anyway. Primus knew what they were actually in this town for and what they did to survive.

The patio, used for Cybertronians during their spare time, was circular, wide of range, and littered with damaged devices and compartment containers, a whole mess of passed-down gear and materials. 

Whenever they got their energon rations and stopped here to rest, H–01 would remark that only the fuel granted to them wasn't recycled—well, that and the smoke. The patio boulders formed a patchwork, with stones obtained as useless scraps and waste from renovations resting together as lovely as crystalline statues from the High-caste buildings. It had artistry to it, as well as smoothness. You and H–01 used to sit there together.

You saw the executives of Mining Outpost R–02, violently shove some of the workers towards their specific department, yelling something at them that you couldn't quite catch. Considering the calm and easy-going attitude of the mistreated miners, you could just tell that they were the prissy, fastidious mechs of the upper divisions, maybe the 1st or the 2nd, where they didn't get punished for slacking off or harassing other workers along with the bosses just for the fun of it.

Your unit quickly got on its respective branches and neatly stood in line. You all exchanged terse nods, mentally preparing yourselves for whatever was about to happen. 

In front of you and the rest of your division were the mechs of the 7th unit, and behind them were the workers of the 9th, and so on. Judging by the others' facial expressions, they, too had no idea of why they'd been called here nor could muster up a word, which only fueled your desire to learn what was going on. The patio got tighter, more claustrophobic as cybertronians arrived.

You were the last number in your unit, meaning that you were placed in the furthest spot from your old friend. You lightly reclined your helm backward to attempt and catch a glimpse of H–01, but to no success, as you saw him and all the other mechs, for that matter, focused on the temporary stage ahead of them. 

It held a podium, a small staircase, and fifteen glass balls with electronic chips on them. One for each unit of the Mining Outpost. A chill went down your spinal plate at the thought.

An overwhelming, ominous silence suddenly governed the patio when a mech no one working here had ever seen before climbed up the staircase. The way he moved caused cybertronians to stare at him in fear. 

The mech was brawny and towering, and the way his helm fell over his lifeless, devoid optics and left shadows smeared on his cheek plates made others shudder. He was directly in front of the plain, pitiful microphone stand. However, an almost charming smile crossed his dermas.

"I suppose you're asking yourselves why were you brought in here."

Because of the microphone, his voice, profound and with a baritone tone, boomed across the patio, making you wince lightly at its loudness. You, of course, were desensitized from loud noises due to the continuous straining sounds of the mining machines around you day after day, as everyone else was. However, his statement caused many cybertronians to look among themselves, clearly disturbed.

"Gentlemechs, my name is Bullway, and I've come all the way here from Kaon to offer you a choice. I intend to give fifteen of you the chance of coming to Kaon with me and becoming gladiators."

Hushed whispers and inaudible sentences started falling from everyone's dermas at Bullway's words and what they implied. From the corner of your optics, you saw most of the mechs look at each other in mute amazement at what they had just been offered.

Their superiors, who were at the base of the set-up podium, quickly took it upon themselves to silence everyone with a loud yell, the absence of sound appearing once again.

"Think about it! Money, power, glory, fame, all laid at your digitprints!" Bullway threw his arms out to emphasize his words. "Join me, and all you have ever dreamed of will come true. A life of nothing but recognition! Isn't that what you deserve?! Isn't that what you dream of as you stare at the ceilings of your measly stations?!"

Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money.

Almost as if he had read your mind, H–01 subtly leaned his helm forward to take a peek at the workers of the section he conducted. Most of them remained stoic, and he was very glad to see that, but what worried him the most right now was H–08.

His facial plates morphed into that of slight disturbance because as he peered into your face, he clearly saw what could only be described as contemplation, doubt, and consideration, which both bothered and worried him.

Bullway smiled at how he had you under a forged delusion and continued his speech, "See the crystal globes here? There's one for each unit of your Mining Outpost. They all contain chips with your respective electronic signatures. Each vorn you have worked here, your signature will be entered an additional time. You can figure out the rest, so let us begin!"

Each vorn?

You suddenly realized that the globes were not in order because, in the same minute that you let the circumstances sink in, Bullway had already slipped a servo inside one of the spheres and grabbed one chip from it, reading it aloud so everyone could hear the letter and number clearly.

"G–10!"

All of the divisions started looking among each other, searching for the (not) lucky mech, a pregnant silence following suit as the group in front of them all glared sympathetically at the chosen one, who stood frozen in place, optics blinking several times, wishing to Primus that Bullway had read the designation incorrectly and it wasn't him who was just chosen.

You felt a shiver run down your spinal plate when one of the guards roughly seized his shoulder and made him start walking toward the platform, ignoring the mech's begging and lightly dragging him across the patio as everyone stared in horror. Your intake suddenly went dry when Bullway moved to the next globe, grabbed an electronic chip, moved to the microphone again, and read it aloud.

This time it was from the upper divisions, A–07, you heard.

Just like that, another mech was whisked away from his branch line and thrown across the patio. He then ascended the flight of stairs to stand beside G–10, who apparently was still encapsulated in deep denial, continuously shaking his helm in disbelief. It was tenaciously obvious that Bullway did not concern himself with their worries and imminent fear as he once again moved toward a globe and grabbed another.

You wished cybertronians would step outside their own frames and oversee from the outside what was actually happening at that very instant in Nuna 5PY. Plucked from their workstations like flowers in a garden, sent off to Kaon for the purpose of entertainment for the Upper class with the bombastic excuse of 'MONEY POWER GLORY' behind it.

Prisoners inside their own bodies, trapped to fend off for themselves on a planet where no one cared about them.

Electronic signatures continued rolling off the mech's glossa like energon from a wishing well. The mechs that were chosen always did the exact same thing. They stood completely aghast for a few nanokliks, staring at the soot-stained ground in front of them in absolute shock, their frames deflating like rubber balloons, dermas parting in awe at themselves because they just couldn’t believe it.

F–03.

I–11.

D–04.

E–07.

K–15.

O–02.

When they got prodded by one of the guards, they stared at them, silently begging for compassion, but they found none. Eventually, they were pulled out of their place and shoved towards the staircase on the stage, where Bullway gleefully welcomed all the newcomer 'gladiators' just to grab another electronic chip and call out yet another designation, and so repeating the cycle.

C–01.

M–06.

B–09.

L–01.

J–02.

N–14.

Oh, there was still a globe left. The H unit.

The crowd drew in a collective breath, and then you could hear a pin drop. You were feeling nauseous, your servos clammy, your whole frame tense, your processor hurt, and your spark ached. You longed to see Starlight, you wanted to chase after the train where you sent Vaportrail off to Cyberpolis, and you didn’t know how much H–01 was desperately hoping that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you.

"And the last one! H–08!"

[benefits1986]

Hypotenuse & Hyperfocus

When all else fails, blink, then blink again.  This early morning’s random thought fart focuses on managing your attentional blinks. I won’t go down the ADHD hole because it’s too big. While listening and ironing some clothes at around 5 am, I am taken back to my first and only 70 mark on my Trigonometry class. I felt really bummed because I didn’t see the point of problematizing a triangle everyday right after lunch break. I was told that I’d most likely attend summer classes which meant being stuck in this vicious cycle. I know so well that Trigonometry is not about the problems to be solved, but its impact on critical thinking given a very exact set of rules. When I saw my grade in roaring red, I sulked but I knew so well that this is not the end. I have two more quarters to go and all I needed to accomplish is a total points of 296 for me to pass this subject.  The funny thing though is that when I asked my teacher who I am not naming why I got a really bad grade, she smirked and told me that she noticed that I don’t clean a whole lot of space during homeroom. She also noted that she barely sees me because I go to the clinic often. More curiously, she also remarked that I seem to have no interest in her class; and that I play a whole lot with my calculator and my pen. When she finished her lamentation, she was catching her breath. She appeared to be irked with me which is way beyond my fair grades, right?  I blinked back at her several times. She stared at me. I gave her a smug look; and said, OK. Got it.  I turned my undeniable apathy towards the triangle to hacking its nooks and crooks. It was not easy. It was burning. It was living hell. As I down and drown in very exact rules, I realized that everything and anything can actually be honed and later, sharpened. I started with quizzes where I’d get better grades which turned to passing grades and eventually, decent grades. Later still, I managed to get an 83 in the next quarter.  The teacher involved seemed surprised with my 13-point jump. Her mouth even dropped. To up the ante of this scene, I told her that even if she gave me another 70 or 69 in the final quarter, there’s ZERO chance of me being stuck in summer class with her. I guess that this is my first ever full blown head to head with boomers booming. This terror teacher got to taste how treating students who are left in shambles can actually power through. I may only have gotten a little over 300 points in a span of four quarters, but all time spent with her and in her universe taught me more than triangles.  The terror teacher shook her head and jeered at me. I can still remember her beady eye. I told her that while I still don’t get the whole point of lamenting over the angle of depression especially when the ship is sinking, I will never forget our encounters. I also thanked her for putting me under fire because I was able to find a way to make things happen and let things happen, too.   Hypotenuse is the longest side of a right-angled triangle. It sits opposite the right angle. Life is much like a right-angled triangle. It has specific rules that impact your angle of depression and your angle of elevation as well. You have to know the constants like the pull of gravity. Some practical applications of Trigonometry involve crossing a busy road and dealing with two stop lights; swimming and free diving to get the best view of the underwater kingdom; planning shots for production where you’d have to deal with a very tight timeline and a tighter deadline. Another quirky real life application of Trigonometry is knowing the Y about your X. LOL. Seriously though, you can’t apply the rules to triangles that are not right-angled ones. If they go even a tiny bit to the left or too much to the right, there’s no derivative to solve any one problem.  PS: I can no longer solve ANY Trigonometry problem after a series of entrance exams; so please, don’t approach me. Heck, I don’t even remember any of its theories except for those I shared above. 

[trixcuomo]

Aspect of alternate pairings

Nozdormu: You know, few people know this about me. Because of the time travel thing? I'm also the dragon aspect of... alternate storylines, universes, pairings. *shrug*

Trixany: Get out!! Seriously?

Nozdormu: I was at AU Illidan's wedding to AU Khadgar just last month. I got them a fel crystal punch bowl.

Trixany: No!! That's nuts!

Nozdormu: The Legion took over in that timeline. It's sort of cute, they were so distracted with eachother. Also, there's a lot of fine crystal glassware as a result. You know, there are a ton of really cute AU couples who are way happier than in our current timeline.

Trixany: So. Kael'thas and...

Nozdormu: Anveena, actually. But don't feel bad, Jaina and Kalec worked things out.

Trixany: What???

Nozdormu: That world went to shit, too.

Trixany: No Sunwell.

Nozdormu: Yes, right. Then there's AU Varian and Onyxia, they have three kids. Prophet Velen and Yrel. Prince Erazmin and Boss Mida...

Trixany: Well crap! It all makes so much sense. I love these couples!!

Nozdormu: Right?? But the world of AU Azeroth is in shambles around each pairing. It's so unfair. *pinches the bridge of his nose* Navarrogg and Mayla Highmountain...

Trixany: Oh my gods! I actually see it!! When she complimented him that one time and said--

Nozdormu: That's a lot of Drogbar. Yes, she was totally hitting on him. In this timeline, Navarrogg noticed, picked her up... but then Highmountain got overrun by harpies.

Trixany: Yeesh. I don't think I can hear anymore.

Nozdormu: It's the amazing thing that people keep missing about the Legion in this timeline, really. Their real warcrime was upholding this boring ass canon we've been stuck with. Killing off alternate pairing after pairing by keeping the world in serious conflict, drawing the attention of these legendary heroes away from each other.

Trixany: I'm actually very upset to learn this. *covers her mouth*

Nozdormu: I think. Well, I shouldn't say, but the greatest AU romance to extiguish was... Denathrius and Sargeras. World of life, and death? Totally obliterated after they finally hooked up.

Trixany: WHAT?! Wait, it was the sword thing, wasn't it? They bonded over their cool swords?

Nozdormu: Trixany. There were a lot of swords in the air with those two.

[jmdbjk]

Twitter

Yes, I paid this hellsite (Tumblr) $8 as a joke to acquire two meaningless blue check marks that are apparently only visible on the Tumblr website, but not the app... anyway... I laughed and appreciated Tumblr’s humorous poke at Twitter’s troubles, so here is $8, thank you, Tumblr.

All jokes aside... if you didn’t know Twitter was a hell hole since a long time ago NOWWWW we are seeing in real-time the depths of struggle over there. 

My bird app timeline is in shambles. Trending is broken. Paid blue check marks have been taken away? Restored? Discarded again? Whew the whiplash. 

News of Twitter staff/executives getting laid off/fired/resigning in the thousands... what a rough time. 

BTS Twitter users are panicking trying to decide where to go if Twitter disappears. They are afraid of losing all their ARMY friends. The anxiety is real. I don’t blame them.

What are their choices? Instagram: primarily for images, not so much for words but I think the algorithm is wrong... Facebook: (puh-leez) is the closest thing but for real? nah... Reddit: very wordy, but hard to follow format that is nothing like Twitter... Youtube: duh, made for video not words... Tumblr: definitely made for words but not really made for back and forth banter even though we make it work... 

The Twitter environment, though very dynamic, is inherently very fleeting. It is excellent for “in the moment” moments. 

I use Twitter to stay informed. But without the aid of a curated timeline and trending topics, it’s not a very good fandom experience at all. It takes some strong curating/blocking accounts/muting words and topics to wade through the shit. And it takes diligence because if you are like me and you are clicky, you click on shit and then the bullshit starts creeping back onto your timeline. 

Compromises were made but I have cleared out 613 tons of toxicity and Twitter has been very useful and mostly enjoyable for the last six months. Until now. There is a lot of upheaval. The security of our privacy info is in question. 

And even more seriously is the ripple effect. Wall Street Journal reports that the paid for Twitter verified blue check mark has indeed been halted due to accounts impersonating corporations and celebrities. Word is going around that pharmaceutical companies have lost billions in stock market value because imposter accounts are making false statements. 

Major takeaways from this is that nothing is permanent. Even $44 billion investments.  And Twitter, social media in general, yields a lot of influence in the world whether we like it or not.

I would never pay Twitter for a blue check mark. I talk too much to use Twitter effectively. So I am staying here. With my check marks that mean nothing except that I appreciate when someone seizes the opportunity to take a jab at someone else who is too big for their britches (and who apparently does not have the ability to think through their actions). 

Welcome to those of you defecting from Twitter to Tumblr. We might not be light on our feet over here but at least we can write as many words as we want at one time, emphasized with a lot of images, and these posts are easily accessible. 

[itsclydebitches]

Two questions about Sandman, from a comic-only reader: (1) Does the show keep the little visual/audial joke of the background conversations in Dream and Hob’s first and last arranged meetings being identical? (2) Have you seen the fan-made short film version of 24 Hours? It can be found through the Sandman Wikipedia page.

If they recreated that I missed it. Though their initial scene has many of these lines spoken almost word-for-word across the inn, their reunion just has the soundtrack and the general murmur of people nearby. It definitely makes for an emotional ending to the episode, but I do like the idea of, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

For anyone wondering:

"--Third poll tax in three years. What else could we have done?" / "Thatcher's bloody poll tax. There's going to be a revolution if they try to push it through..."

"All I'm saying is when Ball and Tyler were killed, the spirit of the working man died with them." / "I see the labour movement died with the minor's strike..."

"Penny ale and cold bacon. Penny ale and cold bacon. I would have good hot meat and French wine." / "...make more on the Dole than they would from an honest day's work..."

"--War, plague, and two bloody popes, fighting like weasels in heat. The end of the world is soon, you mark me." / "...of course AIDS isn't God's way of punishing people, Darren. Don't be a pillock / "...All the signs are there, in the Bible. It'll be the end of the world very soon..."

"...murder, nor rape, we need a return to law and to order. The king should act against these bandits." / "...No respect for law and order..."

"...up her dress, and she says, 'Are you hunting for rabbits again, friar?'"/ "...up her dress, and she says, 'Are you hunting for rabbits again, vicar?'"

They tweaked the timeline too so that "The Sound of Her Wings" could take place in one half of the episode and Morpheus reuniting with Hob in the second half (most of which is taken up by their flashbacks). If I've got my comic dates correct, they last met in 1889 (the fight), then Morpheus is captured in 1916, and he escapes 1988, giving him a year to recuperate before meeting with Hob as scheduled because, you know, being captured and the consequences of that have gone a long way towards helping him admit to this friendship. That's why Hob just says, "I wasn't sure you'd be coming." In the adaptation though, Morpheus misses their meeting due to his imprisonment because in this version he's been confined for "over a century" and Hob commiserates with a bartender about how he was an idiot last time they met and probably ruined things. The bartender informs him that the pub is being torn down to make space for apartments and, in 2022 after spending the day with Death, Morpheus returns there to find the place in shambles. Some spray paint points him to The New Inn though and there he finds Hob whose line has been changed to, "You're late."

Though the adaptation is definitely more wishy-washy in terms of dates, this version is waaaay better for ship potential imo. Because 1. Delicious angst in which Hob thinks he's been given proof that their friendship is over and 2. He apparently spent fucking YEARS just sitting around this place hoping that Morpheus would show up?? I mean, TV logic aside, how much time does he have to spend there for Morpheus to find him on the one day he wandered in? Hob never gave up hope, God bless 🥺 Seriously though, some of my favorite Hob/Morpheus fics (and by that I mean like 3 of the 25 that exist lol) run with the idea of Morpheus missing their meeting due to his capture and Hob setting out to try and find him, convinced that something must have happened, rather than that he's actually been ditched. Now we've got a version of Sandman where Hob might have looked for him without anything in the canon directly contradicting that, which is just, [chef's kiss].

Anyway, I haven't seen the fanmade film, but I intend to now! I fell out of Sandman for a long stretch and when news of the adaptation reignited my interest, I found that a ton of stuff had been published since I last picked the series up. I'm also hoping to get hold of the current Corinthian run and the two Dreaming volumes that are out sooner rather than later.

[wiihtigo]

Could you talk more about sam and max being autistic idk I just like hearing your thoughts about it your doc was cool

you come to me on the day of my daughters wedding and ask me about sam and max autism headcanons, forcing me to open tumblr and start writing what ive been thinking recently about maxs autism in relation to him in 305

i talked about this in private a bit but i think 305 could be taken as an allegory for maxs giant autism and thinking you dont feel things the right way with ASD

-max turns into a giant horrible monster in 305, this could be taken as him literally seeing himself as a monster and the whole town, all their friends, see him as such and want him DEAD all except sam whos constantly vouching for max this entire episode. at the end when superego was like "wow! max is actually capable of self sacrifice! amazing!" sam says "told you so." very smug because he knew all along, he always knew max was capable of kindness and love because he sees it firsthand every day!

theyre partners and best friends, of course he knows him better than he knows himself. Literally in this case, where superego, personification of part of maxs brain, thinks hes not capable of feeling things in a normal, proper way, max doesnt think that about HIMSELF, superegos issue with max (maxs issue with himself lol) is that he thinks hes capable of more and max is just ignoring him he says specifically hes tried to push max towards the finer things in life and being more proper (max trying to push himself? talking about max and superego as separate when theyre essentially the same is so hard #HELP.) he thinks hes selfish and cruel and not capable of a selfless act.

theres even a line superego says to sam where he says "you of all people should be able to understand my frustration after years of being partnered with a creature driven by pure id" which is like. does max think sam gets frusterated with him and doesnt want him as a partner because of the way that he Is. max. this is a nice little parallel to sam just last episode having that thought "max is getting so powerful now soon he wont even need me :(" but thats getting away from my point a little. (veering into max depression discussion which is a whole can of worms on its own, but it is worth mentioning autism and depression often go hand in hand and some of maxs self worth issues can be attributed to feeling weird about his autism traits)

anyways of course max was capable of a selfless act, of course he would save sybil and her baby, he loves sybil and he loves babies and he has a lot of love in his little heart. so skipping ahead a bit to the biggest scene in sam and max that baffle and confuse millions, maxs reaction to coming back to sam.

a lot of people are confused by maxs nonchalance and casual retelling of the horrible events that apparently went down in his timeline where he had to kill his sam. (interestingly but a little off topic, he specifically says HE blew sam up, whereas in this tl, max killed HIMSELF, sam didnt do a thing. in fact he wouldve probably stayed trying to save him until they both blew up if superego hadnt convicned him itd be tooootally fine to leave. seriously sam its OK hes NOT going to blow up i promise. ok bye bye."

so max comes back, immediately tries to jump back into normalcy and jokes and feels unsure and uncomfortable when sam doesnt reciprocate. he looks confused when sam hugs him even. a lot of people are like "what the hell did he mean by this" but TBH as someone with ASD and lots of experience in the "getting bad news over the phone and then going to a funeral" pipeline i really felt a mind and soul connection with max there! this is mentioned somewhere int he sam and max bible for the cartoon but steve purcell writes something along the lines of "max sees things differently from anyone else" on the topic of his strange reactions to things. which is like. You have autism ->

theres an unskippable line in 305 right before you get to the endgame where sam says "why does max have tear ducts? i cant remember the last time ive seen max cry." and then immediately gets into maxs juxtaposed reaction to sams death to sams absolute MISERY over maxs. max might not feel grief in the way people would expect from a person. he might not even be sad. he might not feel things in the "proper" or "normal" way but that doesnt make him a 50 foot shambling eldritch monster, hes just wired differently. as someone with autism ive felt it too where i dont think i feel things in the right way. if something really sad and fucked up happens to me i dont feel sad and the only thing im immediately concerned with is feeling uncomfortable with watching the people around me crying which, as im typing this, makes me feel like a monster freak for being so cold and cruel, but thats the point im trying to get at, 305 could be read as an allegory for this exact feeling.. because at the end of the day max is just max and sam is happy to see him and accept him as he is. hes not a monster, hes just sams partner and best friend and its ok to be exactly the way he is without feeling the need to change