#this was not what I had in mind when I imagined my first post in that tag

[beatlblog]

i hope john bullied him (via @themagicalmysticalboy)

“Oi Paulie... wha��s on yer fookin face then?”#I hope John made fun of him#god#wtf (via @starseeker95)

#HELP#paul god what was that phase (via @mrlennonmccartney)

#if john still wanted him while paul looked like that it was true love#john's taste was so varied and dubious that i don't put it past him at all#but what a downgrade bc john looked great (via @stewy)

#hot take: this is the reason john decided not to work with paul after all#'if your music sounds anything like how your mustache looks i want no part of it' (via @paulnnccartney)

Knowing john he was like never mind my love you look so cute😍🙈😂 (via @mclennongirl15)

#i cannot imagine what was going through johns head when he saw him looking like that (via @harrisonism)

#imagine this outfit being the reason the beatles never got back together#john was like i'm gonna need about 6 years to forgive you for this 😂 (via @whoscruffylooking)

It’s okay because that look is 💯 on my wife.#I love that horrible facial hair#that first time drag king look (via @winston-legthigh)

#I feel like this is how John expected fashion disaster Paul to shown up#imagine just looking hot and hanging out by a pool#that’s them! (via @asphalt-cocktail)

#I respect it tho (via @lennons)

#john was just like ‘finally the inverse of all those years where I was pining and you looked amazing’#it’s just such a bad look#what WAS he thinking#definitely not what he needed to be which was ‘I look a complete twat’ (via @drivenalphabitchpaulmccartney)

2022

#the cunt paul is serving is like#fancy health food store cunt#but it's been expired for 3 years#it smells like fridge and patchouli and b vitamins and weed#john however is immaculate#god literally invented high waisted flares just for him#john and paul#my boygirlfriend john lennon#i would literally commit atrocities to know what john thought of how he looked here (via @wereonourwayhome)

#this actually changes everything i thought i understood about the 70s J&P vibe#also new questions arise about Paul's chest hair and the lack of it prior#only the important things#new podcast episodes#Paul's worst look and chest grooming#paul mccartney#john and paul#OH NEW HOT TAKE#this was 100% done intentionally to make sure they didn't bang#it was such a danger Paul took one for the team#and by took onei mean he prevented any taking from being done#dammit I'll probably write that fic#5 times John and Paul didn't bang (via @mydaroga)

#this is why he didn’t go to new orleans#:/ (via @goldslick)

SAD!

John Lennon, upon seeing Paul again in 1974 looking like that:

#john lennon#the beatles#shitposts#im sorry I thought of it then had to get it out (via @queerlennon)

#absolutely cursed#paul ruined his chances by choosing this moment to try a new form or drag that did NOT work for him (via @ahumoroussuggestion)

#absolutely dying#literally too much#the ultimate moment of seeing an ex who broke your heart after a few years and being like……oh#THAT’S who all the fuss was about???#(except from May’s account of that time it seems like the chemistry was still popping off somehow???)#which like talk about true love#being able to get past THAT#I kind of think that Paul was finding it fun to make himself look as gross as possible#relishing in it#after so many years of his looks being held up and scrutinized#to just be like oh yeah? watch this#kind of typical paulish rebellion (via @hands-across-the-skysky)

#divorce babe (via @pennielane)

#watching this post go through its villain arc has been such an experience great work guys#and by great work i mean im deleting tumblr (via @mystical-one)

He really has some balls, turning up like that.#mullet moustache and horrible thing on his chin#his fashion sense seemed to leave at the same time as Jane did#was he her Ken doll (via @beatlepaul4ever)

#honestly he still looks kinda hot#that wouldnt cure me (via @zutalorsihavemissedone)

Actually, it could maybe have been worse - he could have turned up with this look.

I can’t decide if it’s a real moustache or that horse face planted him in some muck. (via @beatlepaul4ever)

Why does he look like Paul Prenter? (via @bewareofdarkness)

#HBFJRBFHIRBFEKLFR#i think i would have just left#maybe that's why john thought he needed to be taken down a peg#'all you do is write love songs' like it was gonna hurt him#make him rethink his look#last time john hurt paul -- the man grew a beard (via @writertyper)

People ask why he didn’t go to San Francisco with him and the answer is this (via @yellowroombarine)

#this will forever make me mad at him#like this was the last photo documentation of them together#and that’s what he looked like#why (via @bridgeoverstrawberryfields)

#REAL#FELT#some tiger king bullshit💀#I’m kinda with it tho💀💀 (via @iamsigningmylifeaway)

2024

#fr WHO lied to paul and told him this is a good idea (via @comradeharrison)

#as someone who thinks that 70s paul is the most ethereal indescribably beautiful person in the world#he looked soooo like shit during their reunion im ctfu#the dash of beard. horrifying (via @bugpoasting)

#if you genuinely think that John wasn’t absolutely attracted to Paul’s hillbilly porn star look than idk what we’re doing here#that sun tan and rat stache 100% did it for him (via @lennonsfag)

#I understand where everyone’s coming from but you’re LYING to yourself if you think John wouldn’t be into that#It’s Paul fucking McCartney he could show up bald with a beard down to his shoulders and John would get all hot and bothered over it#Paul has nothing to worry abt so why not pull up to the function looking like a porn star with the white Karen capri pants and all (via @iwannabeyourman)

#I’m sorry but he literally looks insane#mostly thag hair sticking straight up (via @sleeper9)

#I still think that's such a power move on Paul's part to be honest#Is he sliding his index finger into the fold his wraparound vest there?#“I know you want me. Even like this”#Paul's arm hair#Paul's...chest hair?#paul mccartney#Meanwhile John's showing off his hips bulge & thighs in May's jeans#they deserved each other (via @crepesuzette2023)

#i imagine he immediately got cured of homosexuality#if not... john please. put your glasses on (via @estrangedfiances)

#nooo he was so into it#his prissy princess suddenly looks like he’s into complete filth#john’s wildest fantasies suddenly seem possible (via @goldslick)

#and john was cured of his life long crush as soon as he opened the door#i actually hate that the bottom one is the last known picture of them together (via @the-electric-monk)

#ok i think this moon is hot i’m SORRY#like he looks so slutty he knew exsctly what he was doing#open shirt? gay little mustache? shoulder length shag?#the chest hair?????#paul was trying to ensnare him fr (via @gayyytripper)

#scream#once again mccartney was ahead of his time (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#when your ex shows up looking like a cartoon evil man (via @bambi-kinos)

#this is Kurtis Conner lmaooo goodbye (via @maelwife)

#I mean you know… I’ve grown partial to his pornstache and yes even the mullet#so idk probably I would still dig it (via @tenitchyfingers)

#tbh it’s not a bad look but it’s ugly when he does it (via @strangebrew)

only ccurte tke

#normally i run screaming seeing 70s paul#but this look?#*chefs kiss#what a power move (via @consulting--defective)

#john y paul#jp en los 70s#pues si (via @akamy08wt)

#did he dress like that on purpose with the goal of attracting or scaring him? we will never know#im soft for paul 70s mullet not so much for the moustche (on any period) but the clothess#mclennon#you cant have 67 without 74 last meeting (via @alienoriana)

#I've always kinda liked the mullet (yes yes something's wrong with me)#but I just can't get behind the mustache on him. I'm sorry#I kinda unironically want that shirt too#at least it has colour unlike most of the stuff people try selling you these days (via @chut-je-dors)

#i can tell u now i am infact a bisexual who is infact attracted to this look#hes committed to the bit (via @mcstarr)

#I don’t think I can get over that little bit on the chin#and the mustache too but yeah that’s where I just I don’t think I can but… put me and him in the same room and I might feel differently#cause of his energy#his physical presence (via @johnisonlysleeping)

#predicted bisexual twink fashion (via @therealestwizard)

#I think the Only downfall is the Kind of mullet here that type of mullet is out#it has to be just a little shaggier#but otherwise yeah this is just some dude at a club now (via @menlove)

#KURTIS LMAAOO#its actually kind of horrendous but i couldnt do any better (via @xtreme-cringe)

#and anyway we all know john would be totally into it dont kid yourselves (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#I could never transition because this is what I would slowly animorph into (via @asurrogateblog)

#it is still not a look and ladies pls know i will never eve date a man with this moustache and that shirt#but op. you aint wrong (via @phonybeatlemania)

#it’s called ✨️fashion✨️#what was 70s fashion even#“fashion” according to mccartney (via @lilywolfgray)

Can you imagine being John Lennon in 1974, and you’re about to see your ex-best friend/pseudo husband/songwriting partner for the first time in years, plus its a really big moment cause you’re tentatively thinking about working with him again, then the motherfucker shows up looking like this unironically:

[waiting-foratrain]

> do you ever think about how scary remembering being alecto must have been for nona? because i think about that a lot.

(NONA THE NINTH SPOILERS) (this is mostly a post inspired by my personal experience and feelings so feel free to disagree. but also i Am correct)

dissociative amnesia is terrifying. just. full stop, point blank- as a concept, to experience, however- its terrifying. the idea that there’s something missing and half the time you don’t even know it’s gone? and then to remember? to slowly start remembering every horrible thing that happened to you? to be nona, remembering, and suddenly realise that you’re doing what everyone around you seems to have wanted you to do since you first opened your eyes, you’re remembering- only it isn’t helping, and instead, you’re realising that everything you thought you were was built on a fault line that only seems to keep growing with everything more you remember?

and then it’s nona, the girl who’s anger has only ever been treated gently and peacefully by the people who love her, who is determined to be good, to be helpful, suddenly having to remember so much unrestrained anger, so much pain? and the more she remembers, the more she becomes sure that all of that is what she is going to be left as when her time, and her life is up. of course that scared her. how could it not scare her?

i don’t think it was just the realisation of who she had been that was terrifying - it was the understanding that she was a makeshift person walking around in a world where (nearly) everyone else got to be wholly themselves for as long as their bodies lived- but she’d been on borrowed time her whole life, and suddenly she has a rapidly running out countdown.

further - dissociative amnesia isn’t just about the loss, it’s about the shape of the loss. it’s about the gaps in the narrative of your own life, gaps you can’t see because your mind has plastered over them, smoothed them out so seamlessly that you don’t even think to ask what’s missing. It’s about waking up one day and realising the foundation you’ve been standing on isn’t real, and worse, that the truth waiting underneath it might be so much worse than the not-knowing… and when those memories do start to surface, you don’t quite know what it is, but it feels like a betrayal- and you aren’t quite the same as you were before anymore (which happens on such a bigger scale with nona!!!! it’s so important to me, that in ntn, nona’s remembering is not celebrated. so often in media, i see people remembering memories lost to trauma related amnesia portrayed as a good thing, and every time i’m just sat there thinking ‘is it worth it? really?’)

like. just imagine you’re nona, for me. your mind kept those lost memories from you for a reason- it buried them because it thought you wouldn’t survive them, and maybe you won’t, but now, whether you’re ready or not, they’re coming back. they’re clawing their way up from a grave you didn’t even know was there, and you have to look them in the eye and reconcile the person they tell you you were with the person you fought to be.

for nona, remembering meant losing herself. she didn’t just gain alecto’s memories, she became alecto again. the life she had built, the life she had clung to, the love she had felt, all of it just unraveled beneath the weight of who she had been before. how could it not be terrifying?

to remember. to finally give in and remember what she’d been so determined to not, to finally know what you were missing - and have to realise that your fears weren’t unfounded. it is scary - because remembering doesn’t make you whole. sometimes, remembering just erases you instead.

[asheepinfrance]

i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be. 

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break. 

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks. 

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

[laurelwen]

Sorry, it's me again. There's this thing that has been...whispering in the back of mind since I read this post for the first time. Nigel wrote: "... I removed a rat's heart and pretended to be disgusted" Why on earth would he feel the necessity to PRETEND to be disgusted in front of Alex?

I've taken a minute to answer this because it's a very good question but difficult and complicated to answer within the context of the film. For those who aren't sure what you're referring to, please see this post transcribing Nigel's notes.

The short answer is: I don't think the people making the props were entirely consistent with the character as scripted. I think most likely they were given some general directives (such as "make sure it highlights the words "egocentric megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur") Outside those few directives, they just sort of let their poetic license run free, injecting their own ideas of a what a "fucked up weird guy who dissects animals" would say into the text, and creating a different version of Nigel than the movie presents us with. The worst example of that is the newspaper article in Alex's book--which doesn't make ANY sense in the context of the film. No one really expected crazy fans to obsessively pause the movie and use photo enhancing techniques frame by frame to determine what was written in his journals or the text of the article, so I think there was a lot of leeway and perhaps some laziness when it came to the props.

It's hard for me to come up with an IN character justification for Nigel to have written that, because it doesn't gel with my observations of him as presented in the film. The journal entry itself is written before he is kidnapped by Alex and the dynamic of their relationship shifts. This IS the entry that made Alex angry enough to kidnap him and teach him a lesson in the first place. This is the Nigel who barely responds to Alex's confrontational anger over the dissection in the dorm room, the Nigel who seems to be completely unmoved by or even very aware of how his actions might impact others. He doesn't care enough to even consider what effect he has on others, and even if/when he is aware, I sincerely doubt he'd bother to *pretend* anything. Nigel doesn't seem interested in pretending to be anything other than what he is, a defining trait that causes him a lot of problems.

Later in the movie, Nigel does shift a bit into a more puckish role. He fucks with Alex in a variety of ways, very noticeably in the train scene when they're going to visit his secret room. He's playful, mischievously antagonistic, poking and prodding Alex and seeming to enjoy his discomfort. This demeanor is more in line with the kind of guy who might write about deliberately messing with his roommate's head. But I still don't know why he would feign disgust in the middle of the dissection given that he's been dissecting animals regularly and Alex would have no reason to think he's grossed out by it.

I suppose if we apply that puckish attitude backward and say that Nigel was already trying to mess with Alex even before the kidnapping, we could sort of squint our eyes and imagine him being very over the top Fake Disgusted as he waves the heart around in Alex's direction. I still don't find that very likely, but it's the best I've got.

If you wanted to, you could use this as part of a theory that Nigel was the real instigator all along and had been intending/planning to manipulate Alex from the moment he was transferred to the school and forced to share a room. In such a reading of the film, all of his behavior could be seen as pretense in some way, including his initial lack of reaction to Alex--calculated to rile Alex up, put him off balance, etc.

I don't personally buy in to that interpretation, just as I don't buy into Alex being the sole instigator. I think either reading ascribes far too much power and control to these teenagers, however intelligent and manipulative they may be. But if you want to go that route, here's a supporting piece to add to your puzzle.

Thanks for the ask and I hope this rambling mess makes at least some sense!

EDIT: please read my reblog of this post. @silhioutte pointed out the very obvious mis-read of this line.

[Like Minds Masterpost - Main]

[sanccharine]

16 | lesson plan

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader  genre: fluff, slice of life  word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief mention of bad parents

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: red velvet’s yeri, ateez’s san, yeosang and wooyoung, txt’s yeonjun

status: ongoing a/n: there are probably many mistakes, rip <3 also think i posted for hufflepuff!tzu like... seven months ago. yes, you can insert clown music here.

masterlist | chapter 15 | chapter 17

“What?” Tzuyu looked at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“Teach me Transfiguration!” you said, grinning as the idea formed in your mind. It wasn’t too bad, you didn't think so at least. “Be my tutor.” 

When Tzuyu just stared at you in silence, you tacked on. “Please,” you offered your best smile. 

Tzuyu stilled. Her mouth opened, a vague sound escaped, and then she closed it again. She was speechless. Did you say something wrong? You don’t think you did. Maybe she wasn’t interested… but she had offered. 

In your head that request made the most sense. You wanted to get better at Transfiguration. You wanted to study with her in the library again. You wanted to spend more time with her. And she’s offered before, not this explicitly, but her offer to help was always open, at least for you. So you were taking it—taking the chance. 

Trying your hardest not to frown, you prepared yourself for rejection. Of course, just because she’d offered at a previous point in time, doesn’t mean she’d still offer now. 

You hugged the Transfiguration textbook closer when you asked again. “I want you to help me get better at Transfiguration,” you said, confident but a bit more somber. You wanted to express that you were being genuine. And then added again, “Please.” 

Tzuyu blinked once, owlishly. Then again. 

“Okay,” she bit her lower lip, eyes shifting to the textbook in your hands before glancing up at you. “I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to bite down the grin. Tzuyu only hummed in response. 

For a moment the pair of you just observed the other. The light glimmering in her eyes was so obvious, and if you were brave, you’d like to imagine it was because of you. The corner of her lips twitched up and down, and you wanted to call her out. Tell her she didn’t have to hold back her smile just like you were trying to, but instead you opted to just watch her. Deciding it was better to jump around in your mind, than stupidly in front of her. 

Abruptly, Tzuyu cleared her throat. She looked down for a moment, and when she looked back up again, her usual mask was on. Though not that it helped your own grin. Because you knew behind that mask, she was feeling somewhat giddy as you did. 

“Class?” Tzuyu pointed to the entrance, her hand still gripping the strap of her bag. It was a gift how well she was able to control her expressions. “We’re late.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you shook away the smirk that was itching to spread on your face. Stepping to the side in a bow, you extended your hand in an exaggerated manner. “Prefects first.” 

Tzuyu hummed, rolling her eyes at your act. But you didn’t miss the smile on her lips when you looked up at her. 

When the pair of you walked in, the class fell silent. You didn’t see what Tzuyu was doing in front of you, but you did catch Yeosang throwing her a thumbs-up. Unlike her, you didn’t want to reconvene with your friends, they’ve probably guessed how detention went from the expression on your face. And you’d like to avoid the teasing as long as you could. You did, however, glance at Lee, but she didn’t really let any expression past her. Though, there was a small twitch of her lips in greeting. Lastly, you looked at Yeosang, just before taking your seat next to him. He gave you a little wave, before showing the textbook page you needed to be on. 

Once Lee noticed you and Tzuyu had settled, she resumed her class and turned her back to you to write something on the board. That instant, something struck the back of your head. You lurched forward, patting the back of your head, before noting the crumpled piece of parchment by your feet. 

Fortunately, for you, you quickly picked up the parchment and flattened the paper while Lee was still focused ahead. Unfortunately, for your friends, both Yeosang and Tzuyu turned to face them. The scorn of Yeosang’s face was scathing, it was truly fascinating how such a pretty face could contort into such an ugly sneer. Coughing into your sleeve, you hid your snort. 

But holding back your laughter proved to be more difficult when you turned to the back of the class. Wooyoung was waving his hand as wildly as one could and then gestured as if writing a note. San was trying to pull him to his seat, afraid Lee would turn at any second. 

How did detention go? was written in Wooyoung’s hurried scrawl. 

You turned to him and he was signing with two thumbs-up followed right by two thumbs-down. Seeing as you’d be getting more notes to your head until you answered him, you offered a smile with a singular thumbs-up. 

Excited about the detention, you missed how San stiffened next to Wooyoung. 

“L/N, care to explain what you are doing?” 

You couldn’t be serious.

“Detention, really? Come on, Professor,” you groaned, remaining back with Lee. 

“You were passing notes—”

“I was getting notes—”

“You were disrupting my class—”

“Oh, come on,” you said again, throwing up your arms. 

“That will be detention, again,” she continued before you could interrupt her again. “Library duty, same time next week.” 

“Oh. I…” you straightened, contemplating the detention. It was more time with Tzuyu. You nodded. “Yeah, I can do library duty—”

“I was not asking,” you give her a deadpan look to match her own. “Also,” she pulled out a piece of parchment from her drawers. “I have your next assignment.” 

You raised your eyebrows and took the parchment from her. Quickly skimming over the assignment, you furrowed your eyebrows together. You recognized the question.

“Yes, that is the same question you left blank in your O.W.Ls. I’m glad you remember it.” 

Frowning, you caught her gaze again. When Lee met your stare with a steely look, you don’t doubt you have something akin to a glare on your face. Though, if Lee was irritated by the disrespect she didn’t care to show it. 

“Why—”

“Because I know you’ve improved—”

“Why did you take me into your class?” 

You ask the question again. The one you’ve been thinking of since you received the letter that you got into N.E.W.T level Transfiguration. 

As if Lee knew you had more to say, she stayed quiet.

“I know I didn’t meet your requirements, so why would you make an exception?” you ask, with a sigh. “And don’t say something stupid and vague like potential, Professor.” 

If anyone knew how to disrespect a teacher, it was you. 

But if anyone knew how to take your insolence without being perturbed, it was Lee. 

Her eyes only shifted slightly, a deadly glint over her glasses as she steepled her fingers in front of her face. 

“I didn’t make an exception—”

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. Lee looked neither appalled nor admonished you for your language. She kept watching you, like you were an explosion she was waiting to go off soon. 

Then, she turned to her left, looking at the empty space in her desk and uttered a conjuring spell. Within seconds, a spotted frog appeared out of thin air. Lee jutted her chin at the frog, the animal blinking at you like you were its owner. 

“Cast a vanishing spell.” It was an order. 

Unnerved, but still obedient, you pulled out your wand and pointed at the frog. With one simple move of your hand, you said, “Evanesco.”

Just like the frog had appeared, it had vanished.

Raising your brows, you nodded to yourself. It was a clean spell. You looked at your wand, appraising it, surprised that it cast the spell so well. Perhaps, you’re not so hopeless. You turned to Lee, expectant and confused all the same. Will she be grading this or something? 

“Now, tell me the theory behind that spell.” 

Your mind went blank. 

Lee raised a single eyebrow, waiting for your answer, but you had none. 

“Vanishing is one of four branches of Transfiguration… ?” you trailed off when you heard yourself. Even to your own ears, you didn’t seem confident in the statement. Lee fixed you with an unimpressed glare but she sighed. 

“Do you remember how you learnt it?” Lee asked but you just shrugged. 

“You taught it to us last year,” you said, unceremonious but Lee just shook her head. “You taught it to us in fourth year?”

You weren’t sure what exactly she was fishing for until she pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with your answers. But it was clear, you weren’t leaving anytime soon. 

Thinking back to a year even further back, it finally clicked. Third year had been very strange for you. With somewhat of a rebellious streak, running in and out of detentions and with the threat of being pulled out from Hogwarts altogether, it had been a blur of a year. 

The only thing that was clear as day was that Lee did not let you out of her sight. To you, at the time, it was her way of controlling you. Admonishing you. Your parents were on your back. Lee was on your back. Everyone, all at the same time, looked at you as if you were a ticking bomb. 

Lee found any and all reason to have you benched in her office, detention after detention. If Slytherin weren’t so good at Quidditch, you wouldn’t be surprised if your detentions alone lost your house the House Cup. Not that it did, of course. 

While those detentions had mostly been a waste of your time, if you were to look further, there were also Lee’s students. The prodigies and the favourites and the ambitious, at her office between classes to improve their learning in Transfiguration. And in those detentions, you’d see older students attempt a varying range of spells, again, and again, and again. 

Vanishing spell, being one of them. Purely out of boredom, you often attempted to copy older students, granted you were never successful, and you’d land another detention from Lee if she caught you. But you’d seen so many spells, so many attempts, that by the time you’d officially been introduced to the spell during the next year, the basics of casting it had been ingrained into your brain. 

Maybe you had an inkling of what Lee was trying to say…

“I got lucky—”

“Try again.” Lee said, and you frowned. 

“I practiced.” You admitted, finally. “I watched your fifth-years fail again and again, and learnt from their mistakes.”

In fact, looking back that’s how you’d gained many of your spells. Vicariously. 

You’d always assumed casting spells, especially with a wand, came a little naturally to you because of your parents. You are a pureblood after all. But it was never the case. You’d learnt it like you learnt Quidditch. Watching others cast and watching others play. You never understood why it works or how it works, you just know that it works exactly this way. And then you practice, mimicking every move with an almost clinical precision until it worked, until it was second nature.

When Lee had chosen you to attempt that specific spell in front of the class, you’d cursed her in your mind. Thinking she was doing it to spite you, embarrass you in front of your betters, prove that you could not do well in Transfiguration. Just like your parents had told you. Just like you believed it to be. 

Such foolish, childish thoughts, but you thought them to be true. Of course, your own doubts had blown up in your face. The frog you were asked to vanish, sputtered and floundered when you miscast. Lee only frowned and asked you to take your seat again. You glared through the rest of the class, deciding not to pick up your wand again for that lesson.

“You were one of the few handful of students who successfully cast the vanishing spell during your O.W.Ls,” Lee said, taking off her glasses to wipe them. Her words cut off your memory of your failure. But you could barely remember the exam where you cast the spell correctly. “It was that practical that gave you the marks to enter my N.E.W.Ts class.” 

You shrug, about to counter her. 

“Maybe when you stop labelling yourself as stupid or a failure, you will actually see the potential everyone else sees in you,” Lee sighed, pushing back her glasses. “Again, I don’t take charity cases. I’m not that kind.”

You knew that much. 

“I know you’re trying harder than ever this year, and I commend that… but the journey will be easier if you just let yourself breathe a little,” the urge to bite back, to be defensive was difficult to swallow down, but you managed to keep your mouth shut. “It is not easy—it won’t be easy, but you are not the hopeless case as you believe yourself to be.”

Professor Lee paused, a brief flicker of hesitation caught on her usually confident mask. Then, she sighed out. 

“Like your parents believe you to be.”

It was as if someone had pulled you taut by puppet strings attached to your spine, forcing you to stand upright. Your muscles were so tense that you couldn’t even curl your fingers into fists. Lee frowned at your reaction, minute as it was, at the mention of your parents. 

 “It would do you good to remember that,” Lee offered in a kinder tone than you’ve ever heard her speak. “Please,” she emphasised the word, “remember that.” 

After a few moments of silence to let her words sink in, Lee sighed once more. 

“On top of your extra assignments, I want you in my classes with the lower years any time you are free. At the minimum of twice a week, teaching others will help you relearn the basics. You clearly have no talent for note-taking and completing your readings,” it's a skill how she lifts you and puts you down within a minute, one she has mastered. “But on top of relearning the basics, teaching your juniors will show you what you know, even when you think you don’t know anything.” 

Lee finished and looked at you, pointed.

“Is that understood?” 

You nodded wordlessly. 

“Alright, let the first-years in, and don’t take up anymore of their time,” Lee said with finality and got up to write something on the board. 

Dismissed, you turned and left. 

Like Lee had asked, you left her classroom without holding back her class. But of course not without a quick fist bump to both Minwoo and Jooyeon. Some other first-years just stared strangely at you, and for the fun of it, you extended your hand to them too. You couldn’t help but chuckle when some reciprocated. 

The rest of your day went better than expected. 

Attending classes felt lighter now that you’ve sorted out everything with Tzuyu. If you weren’t seated with your friends, then you were tailing Yeosang and Tzuyu. You were reintroduced to some of their other friends, technically you should know their names. However, you didn’t, but you were making an effort this time around.

During the lunch break, you updated your friends on the full story of the detention, not sparing as single detail. Not even how you’d asked Tzuyu to tutor you. While teasing was your friends’ way of showing affection, you appreciated the way they listened until you finished. San and Yeonjun sung you praises, the latter slowly leaning into teasing with every new sentence. Though you weren't too fussed, not when Yeri only shared a proud smile. Words didn’t need to be shared between the pair of you.

“Practice tonight?” she asked as she got up to get to her class. 

“Lake side?” you asked, finishing up your lunch. Yeri just nodded. “Yeah, let's try the new play?”

Yeri nodded again as she ruffled Yeonjun’s perfectly slicked-back hair before leaving the hall. 

Classes after lunch went without much fanfare, for most of them you shadowed your friends. Every so often glancing at Tzuyu in hopes she was glancing back. And when you did catch her, she’d be wearing that suppressed smile of hers before she looked down to hide it altogether to look focused in class. The interaction feels something like sharing a secret. 

When your last lesson finished, you caught her just as she left the classroom. 

“So, Professor Chou, when is our first lesson?” you asked, tone lighter than usual as you fell in step with her.

“Eager?” she asked with a brow raised, while her lips did that thing again to suppress her smile.

“Sure, yeah,” you shrugged in answer, doing something of your own to not display just how eager you were. “Let’s keep the lessons consistent. How about our free period in the morning, every week? Does that work?” 

“I have detention that time for next week,” she said, with a slight downturn of her lips. 

“Oh, I’ll be joining you,” you said with a grin accompanied by a one-shoulder shrug. “Library duty again. Can’t wait.” 

“What did you do now?” Tzuyu asked with a deadpan stare and you didn’t have the energy to feign hurt. 

“Does it matter?” you chuckle, slightly shuffling to the side as a student hurried past you. “Let’s start from the week after, how about it?” 

For some reason, you wanted verbal confirmation from her. Wanted to hear that she was as eager to teach you as you were to learn from her. Even if it was only a fraction of what you felt. That feeling being the yearning for academic prowess, of course. Nothing to it more than teaching and learning.

“Yeah, that works for me,” Tzuyu nodded with a small smile as the pair of you made a turn. “Same place in the library?” 

Your grin widened in answer. The noise of students chattering increased as the both of you neared the great hall. Tzuyu mirrored your smile as you entered the hall but came to a stop at the entrance. While it was merely optional, the pair of you would separate here to head to your own house tables. Unfortunately, the tables were separated by Ravenclaw. 

“Perfect,” she fully turned to face you, her smile morphing into something a little more serious. Taking the hint, you turned to face her, with a semi-serious nod. “We should focus on casting non-verbally first. So let's start with simple spells.”

You blinked, momentarily pausing as Tzuyu continued to plot her lesson plan. Your own smile, slowly but surely, tilting downwards.

She was taking this far too seriously… or perhaps, you should be taking it more seriously.

“Brush up on second-year and third-year spells,” Tzuyu paused for a moment, contemplating her own instruction but then nodded anyway. “Yes, brush up on those spells and we can start from there. We can work our way up. You’re an intuitive caster, but practice cleans you up. I don’t doubt you’ll master non-verbal casting.” 

Homework and a character analysis from the get-go. 

What did you just sign yourself up for?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: mind you 3k of this had already been written... it was just sitting there untouched IM SORRY ;-; hope you all have a good day/night <3

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @tatliegilim @nanabongos @pandafuriosa60 @eternallyghosting

send an ask to be added !

[cyncerity]

In your Dads Troubles charlie and schlatt story, it was mentioned that charlie was introduced to the idea of being eaten when he walked in on schlatt eating tubbo, and i just wanna know- how did he react??

Like, did he freeze in shock? Did he faint?? Or maybe he screamed and started running for the tunnels?? Or less likely but even better, what if he started yelling and fighting schlatt to get him to spit tubbo out? Like im losing my mind over this, i have to know how they managed to explain that to him and how he had to cope with the idea that everything he thought was kind of sort of a lie.

- the-sussy-imposter2

OHHHH GOOD QUESTION

I think he would fight. He was raised with the very basic “be scared of humans” rule that all borrowers were, but unlike almost everyone in his colony, he never had a personal bad experience with borrowers. His first time meeting a human was Schlatt and Schlatt gave him a kazoo.

All this to say that his fight or flight when it comes to humans is 110% fight because he doesn’t truly comprehend how dangerous humans actually can be.

Charlie is also fucking feral. I like to imagine that before joining the colony in the apartment he was an outside borrower, the kind to physically wrestle a squirrel for an acorn. He has no self preservation. He is surviving on luck, upper body strength, and sheer stubbornness.

I very much think that Charlie would find some way to try and attack Schlatt; like i think he’d see Tubbo get swallowed (probably at night cause he likes to sleep in Schlatt’s stomach when it gets cold) and Charlie would lie in wait until Schlatt fell asleep then climb to his face to try and trigger his gag reflex. Then after that fails and he wakes Schlatt up comes all the kicking clawing and screaming about faking everything and killing his own son. And it’s effective, 1: because Charlie is crazed and 2: because he’s got the kind of tail that’s basically a 5th limb, so i imagine him carrying like a stick with it and just smacking Schlatt in the eyes lol.

Schlatt, to his credit, is smart enough to know that nothing he’s gonna say in that moment is gonna change Charlie’s mind and frankly he doesn’t wanna deal with Tubbo’s whining if he spits him out since he’s already asleep. So he does the next best thing and calls Quackity, telling him to get Tommy. I mentioned in like one post from 2 years ago that once, while Tommy was really tired, Tubbo kinda coerced him into agreeing to get nommed with him, and I think this whole situation would be after that happened. So Charlie gets jarred™ while Schlatt makes that call and starts putting neosporin on the scratches Charlie left.

Tommy eventually shows up and explains that not only is Tubbo fine, he actively seeks out getting eaten, and Tommy himself has been nommed multiple times and vouches for its safety. Charlie tries to apologize but Schlatt is more laughing at the absurdity of it and apologizing that he hadn’t told Charlie prior since he never knew how to bring it up. He brushes off the apology since if Charlie had seen that and chosen not to do anything, he probably would have been more upset. After all, he wants people around who care about Tubbo, especially other borrowers. He knows that he’s not everything Tubbo needs; he doesn’t know enough about his son’s species to teach him any sort of culture or how they navigate the world. Charlie does: he knows the rules of being an indoor and outdoor borrower, and he’s one hell of an uncle. Tubbo loves him, and Charlie clearly loves him back.

[vwoop-prince]

YJ S3 Dick, still in the midst of his fever dream, hides underneath the 'souvenir' instead of behind some boxes, and accidentally opens the airlock trying to take care of the Parademons. The others get it to close... but not before Nightwing is thrown into space.

There, he stares at the ship holding his friends and mentors. There, he wishes more than anything that he can, somehow, survive. There, he tries to live, if only so his family don't have to bury him like Jason.

There, Nightwing dies, wanting to save everyone, even with the cold seeping into his bones far too quickly for a regular section of space.

Then, Dick opens his eyes to... Earth? There's a little house, and grass, and trees, but there's a bubble of green over it all. Outside of that green was an entire castle, one that looked like it should have far more support beams than it does for even a hope that it stays standing.

And the sky was swirling shades of that same green. It makes him think of Lazarus.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day." He whips his head behind him, a bit too fast for Earth's atmosphere, but it doesn't hurt him. Past the bubble of green was a blue-skinned adult in purple robes, the insides of a grandfather-clock fitted inside their torso, and a black staff with a stopwatch on its top. Beside them was a man with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, a crown of frozen fire dancing above his head, and the most galaxy-like cloak Dick's ever seen clasped to his shoulders. He's wearing... a hazmat suit? Maybe? The twinkling stars and odd lighting of wherever he is were giving him a bit of a headache.

But in front of those two, within this bubble, was...

"DICK!" Wally shouted with unrestrained glee, a blur overtaking his spot for barely a heartbeat before Dick's stuck in a crushing hug that he reciprocates once his brain stops feeling like its melting.

He doesn't know how long it took for them to calm down, but the man with the crown spoke up after a time, as Wally was still wiping their faces free of tears. "Welcome to the Infinite Realms, Nightwing." Dick barely even registered that he was still wearing his suit, but now it felt suffocating. "I suppose you're the one Clockwork was holding out for; There shouldn't've been enough Ectoplasm around you to form a Ghost, and your physical body's still in space. I can see why you like this one, though, Clockie," he states flippantly, turning to his companion. Almost like he didn't expect Dick to pay too close attention to what he was saying.

"Either way, there's two options for you." The man didn't let Dick swallow his tears and question anything. Dick's not sure if he's grateful or not. "First: Stay in the Realms permanently. You'll see Kid Flash whenever you want and learn to be a Ghost with the denizens of the Realms. Maybe find your parents."

"But..." Dick pulls away from Wally, keeping him at arms length, eyes flitting between them. The two outside the bubble were distinctly... ghost-like, so the mentions of 'Ghosts' make sense. But Wally looked... alive. A bit pale, a bit thin... but alive. Dick can't see any of his own skin to see if it was blue or tinted that way, but the Nightwing symbol on his chest kept flickering between its own blue and this 'Realms' green. "But--What about the others? What about you? Why can't you come home?" The last two, he focuses on Wally, because now he can feel a heartbeat beneath his gloves. Wally's alive. He's alive.

His friend just shrugs. "Something about their portals not fit for the living? I'm meant to wait for someone to figure out a permanent portal, but they won't tell me how long that'll take." Wally glares at the... 'Ghosts'? There was a heat to it, but it also seemed like this was a well-worn argument.

"The permanent portal was always an 'if', Wallace West. And that is entirely dependent on if Richard Grayson takes the second option," the clock Ghost--Clockwork?--speaks up. But instead of the adult Dick was expecting, there was an elderly Ghost in their place. Still with the time motif. Was that... more literal than Dick took it?

"Yes, the second option..." The crowned man glares daggers at Clockwork. The temperature dips below comfortable. Dick tries to blink the spaceship and stars out of his sight, withdrawing his arms from Wally to try and warm himself. Tries to remember he's not in space. "The second option is that you return to your body... changed. You'll be able to protect Earth better, stay with your alive family, save the Lost Ones... for a price."

Dick doesn't know if he should ignore the plural in 'Lost Ones'. He doesn't know if he's reading too much into how, in this Realm, apparently only his parents were able to be found. Where's Jason? He doesn't dare hope, but...

"What's the price?"

The man smiles and a ring of blue forms around his waist. It splits in two and travels up and down his body, replacing the cloak and whatever clothes he was actually wearing with a NASA shirt, worn jeans, and red sneakers actually duct taped together. The blue tint to his otherwise tan skin fades completely. His hair turns black. His eyes turn blue.

He was like a taller, slightly slimmer, way hotter version of Bruce.

The man walks through the bubble, but doesn't disturb the grass beneath his feet. "You become the Ghost King's vassal." Dick flinches away and almost hides behind Wally. "Not my idea! But, well... it is either this, or your permanent death."

"What does becoming a vassal do to him?" Wally asks, gently trying to stop Dick from breaking his ribs with how tightly he was hugging himself. Does he even have ribs?

"He gains my powers. Ice, electricity, invisibility, intangibility, flight... He becomes a Halfa. He becomes what I was, in life. Just... needing to make offerings to me, now and then. Something like that, at least. I give him powers, he gives me a chunk of, I don't know, chocolate once a week. Like a warlock."

Wally keeps talking to the man, keeps getting information that he knows he should pay attention to, but something in his chest screams to accept this deal, and he can't focus on anything else.

Nightwing can protect. He can return to life and go back to Blüdhaven, be the Vigilante they need. He can visit Gotham every now and then, help with cases and stop criminals from harming others. He can see his brother. He can see his friends. He can eat Alfred's cookies, and have little get-togethers with Babs and the Team--hell, he can argue with Bruce.

And all he has to do is... give an offering to this guy? The Ghost King? Every once in a while?

"There's no other price?" The King turns his attention to Dick. His eyes had shifted to a blue-green that almost hypnotize him. The green swirls, the blue forms and melts like snowflakes, and he can't look away.

He takes another step forward and Wally steps to the side. There was familiarity between them. Wally deferred to him. Dick can't quite tell why. Though, with how Wally hasn't once looked at Clockwork, maybe it's because he's... grounded? Are all speedsters in trouble with, what, the Ghost of Time? That... actually makes perfect sense.

"I'll be honest, Nightwing: You've impressed me." The weight behind the King's words lifts the ones that've been on his shoulders since he was nine. "You remind me of myself. Maybe, if I wasn't a Halfa... If I had a mentor... I could've been like you.

"Despite Clockwork's insistence over the years that I get back in touch with the living, I've held off. When he eventually suggested that I help create another Halfa, I locked him in his tower for twenty years. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. But, now... I see that you won't. You can't. Even if you hide this deal--our shared powers... You'll still have people by your side. Strong people. Smart people. You can already handle yourself. And I'd love to see what you can do--who you can save--with my help."

There was maybe two inches between their faces when the King finishes speaking. Dick roves his eyes across the other's face, trying to find the common and familiar ticks that show lies and deceit and manipulation. All he finds is sincerity and genuine care.

Wally plays with his fingers from the corner of his eye, gaze hopeful as he looks between the two of them. Wally, who was alive and breathing and able to leave if he accepts. Eventually. Somehow.

Dick Grayson sends a quiet apology to his parents and hopes they will forgive him for being a little bit selfish.

"I accept."

He flings his eyes open. Above him, domino mask too wobbly to be properly secured anymore, was Robin crying and begging him to wake up. His hands were sloppily placed over his heart. Batman was trying to drag him away, the firm set of his jaw screaming grief.

Nightwing gasps once he registers his lungs burning.

There's a large cacophony of noise, multiple bright suits and people hounding over him, and the distinct artificial taste of slightly-too-much oxygen that the ship with the Parademons had. That he flew out of and died. He was still too cold.

Someone moves their arm beneath his knees and shoulder and Dick passes out.

(Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson dies in space. Ghost King Danny Phantom likes this too-human Hero. They split their souls in half, take one piece of the others, and all they know is that Phantom is now Nightwing's Patron Deity. Danny uses ice, for electricity killed him. Dick uses electricity, for ice killed him. They are opposites, and yet so incredibly similar. Clockwork was looking forward to when Danny starts putting off his paperwork to hang out with his new 'friend'.)

[equill]

Another Otsutsuki?!

we’re messing up the timeline for this one. (I lost this crack idea but then it came back… the abyss stare back and I jumped in.)

anyways, now some kids meeting the new kid

Panel 1: There’s something wrong here.

Comic 1: Attention.

they’re both in the same boat

Comic 2: Day Off (with confusion.)

he just a little insecure,, (kakashi still told him to get it together)

back to the future now

Comic 3: What. (huh?)

Panel 2: very tiny.

[kj-beastboy]

design by Vec @ OnionPowder_ on twt

I feel like... there's smth about it. it's not all that good, bc the pose is a bit awkward, perspective is a nice attempt but a little off and I drew quickly without thinking, later couldn't fix it/was too lazy/had no time, but the colors, the shading... idk, I'm oddly a fan of it so I'm throwing it here.

see it as practice/warmup. I'll never get to smth better if I don't let myself fail a bunch of times first. don't be afraid of failing.

[mobius-m-mobius]

You wanna hear a good story? Listen to this one.

Mobius + comfort

[clowningcrows]

not sure if i’m projecting or crazy or stupid or just actually incredibly good at characterization but will graham is extremely ethel cain coded 2 me

this man would drunkenly listen to strangers on repeat on his bathroom floor and bawl his eyes out while murmuring along to, “i tried to be good, am i no good? am i no good? am i no good?” while thinking about abigail and alana and beverly and and and….

[odo-apologist]

Me enjoying a rewatch of a Red Dwarf episode, having a good time: 🙂

My traitorous brain: Hey, this scene takes place away from Red Dwarf and Starbug, Lister probably doesn't remember it after M-Corp

Me: 😧

[mbat]

this was an idea i had last year that i found in my files and decided to revive. woe, angst be upon ye

[bloodbathfortwo]

What does everyone think of Nigel Forbes-Colbie ever getting pregnant? It doesn't matter how you interpret it: Omegaverse, males can get pregnant Au, Trans! Nigel. Just tell me your guys' headcanons of Nigel's pregnancy: The changes, the hardships, the softness, and the vulnerabilities.

[smolsix]

so more LN III thoughts (not as many at least, read more is just for users who are avoiding altogether)

I keep thinking abt how the single player you'll be playing with an AI like LN II, and I think the game would offer a lot of replay ability if you can choose which kid you play as as they both do different things (the wrench kid has the wrench for puzzles and breaking things, and the masked kid has the slingshot). in multiplayer it makes enough sense you can pick which one to play as, but if you can choose in single I think it'd make the game have a lot more play value and that's super cool.

the fact it has online co-op can mean so much for cool additional things, and i do hope character customisation is still there (LN with Six's masks/hats and LN II with Monos also) even if you have to unlock it which would also still offer replay ability.

[lyssafreyguy]

God . . . imagine thinking Laios is a bad person who doesn't care about people. actual insanity.