#which he thinks will be easy he just has to convince the population that the current heir will never be fit to rule

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

aaa fuck. pla dhau thoughts.

[singingcicadas]

Megatron's Opposite Day

"I free slaves"

This is Soundwave binding Ratbat but seeing as Megatron did the same thing to Pentius by putting his spark into Trypticon and reformatted Rumble and Frenzy into cassettes against their will I think he approves a lot of this practice

Megatron on Optimus and humans, after his defeat in All Hail Megatron ⬇️

he really salty

"I implant ideology" aka brainwashing

Decepticon cause = Megatron. nuff said.

"I liberate cities" says the person who let Nyon burn to make a point

Cities are too small, think bigger

Holding New York hostage.

"Like Autobots, they believe in the sanctity of life" which he doesn't. Kudos for being honest.

Allowing troops to do free-rein massacre is a reward for conquest. Nothing like some easy murder for de-stressing.

The Simanzi massacre which halved the Cybertronian population is off-screen so it doesn't deserve its own pic

"The revolution"

"We only feel good when we stand with a blade in one hand and a throat in another" "Let's make the entire face of the planet into our new gladiator arena"

What nice, confidence-inspiring revolutionaries. I'm sure they'll rule the population with benevolence after they've killed all the Necessary People with Necessary Violence. Final interpretation of what constitutes as Necessary is reserved for the sole discretion of Megatron, ofc.

Good goals.

Sentinel might be an absolute asshole but at least he's got one thing right: they're literally a gang of thugs who gets high off murder.

"The people are my utmost concern"

'The people': ................

"Battling for freedom"

Freedom of what? Function? Autonomy?

Religion?

the ability to choose whether to fight? on which side to fight?

Idk why they used the word "pogrom" for this, it's way too specific

Anyways it doesn't matter, they won't be missed.

Good for Bumblebee for calling him out. Screenshotted this just to appreciate Megatron's bitchy face ⬇️

Other urban legends:

"Megatron loves Cybertron" let's just burrrrn it

He did fight to save Cybertron in Chaos Theory but also made it pretty clear why he did it. It's not out of the goodness of his heart or any sentimental reasons like that. It's an ego/dominance thing.

Plus his wording when he's trying to convince Optimus to let him go with the Lost Light: "I broke the planet. And that, Optimus, is why I owe it to you - to everyone - to find a replacement."

Replacement.

In other words: I made a mess and can't be bothered to clean it up, so I want to get away from it and find somewhere new to start clean.

I don't think Optimus appreciates the favour.

"Megatron tore down a corrupt government" which is true, just too bad that he's worse

He's also, um, a closeted Zeta admirer?

"Megatron advocates equality" ???

Megatron x dictatorship is literally his OTP. They were inseparable for four million years. A lot of people died trying.

"Megatron cares about the Decepticons" no he doesn't. Not his troops nor its cause.

Like for one thing he treats them with complete scorn

Admits that the most useful thing about keeping Starscream around is that he can bully underlings into line

Wants to use the humans' nuke to get rid of his troops and reformat them into peaceful drones after they outlive their use because they were "too ruthless" for his perfect peaceful society

Has zero scruples about fighting Deceptigod, just affronted that his own soldiers are being used against him

And basically just drops the Decepticons like a bag of vermin after he surrenders. He never once mentions them of his own accord, other than to insist he has nothing to do with them. Even his surrender speech is something Optimus makes him do as exchange b/c he wants to go on parole. He wasn't planning on making a public address otherwise, he was just going to leave them hanging.

Looking at the publication timeline, Megatron started out as an established Evil McEvilson-type villain similar to how he is in G1 and it's not until Chaos Theory in 2011 that JRo really gave him a sympathetic backstory that drew his characterization away from the bloodthirsty pugno ergo sum warlord into someone who once held ideals about societal reform and remains convinced of his own moral supremacy throughout the 4 mill years of death and war, adding worldbuilding such as Functionism/oppression/government corruption as justification for the beginning of the Decepticon movement. But because the start of the Decepticons was already written in Megatron Origins and every evil thing he'd done up till Chaos Theory can't be retracted and they had to keep Megatron as a villain until his story was no longer central to the Autobot-Decepticon war line, and JRo didn't try to downplay the atrocities he'd committed (some of the most sadistically disturbing things Megatron did were exclusively in MTMTE flashbacks), but rather tried to distance him from them and placed the focus on the juxtapositions to emphasize change, this as a whole just resulted in Evil McEvilson getting turned into Hyper McHypocrite.

[spdrvyn]

PAPER PLAYS — [ wc 2.7k. pre/post-atsv. angst. hurt/comfort. ] being a journalist in nueva york isn't a job for the weak, but you've managed to make it through after all these years. long enough where the mystery of its masked vigilante enamors you endlessly.

took me a lot longer to finish this than anticipated and i'm so sorry for that, life gets busy and other things were calling for my attention. this is definitely my longest fic to date, and i just wanted to see how much better i'd gotten at writing miguel compared to before. hope you guys like this one as much as i enjoyed writing it!

cw: violence and mentions of death. this is a rewrite of an old work. check the original fic here.

You knew from the beginning, Nueva York wasn’t the dreamland you thought it was. 

Maybe your young and naïve self saw something in this god-awful city that the present you just couldn’t. The illusion of freedom and expression that served as a think blanket for the real horrors that hid underneath bustling streets and funky smells. 

Reality set in even harder once you graduated college. Landing a job as a journalist in one of Nueva York’s top publishing companies with your nifty degree and shockingly, your belief that you had talent to offer to them. A lot of years have passed since then, yet it’s still pretty difficult to get by. It costs too much to leave, but you wonder how bad the cost of living will get if you continue to stay. 

Either way, you have persisted and hope to continue that. As far as it goes, you love what you do. There are a lot of sick truths that make it to the public eye, truths that you want to talk about, start discussions and discourse on, and hopefully reach the blissful young adults that see this city as a wonderland of opportunity. 

Your ambitions might also be why Spider-Man thinks you’re such a nuisance. It usually never is your goal to unmask his identity whenever you approach him, but it would be nice to at least get a motive as to why he decided to take it upon himself to protect the city, why he abolishes evil in its wake. Only that he has managed to evade you every chance that he gets. Any information that you have right now, you practically had to rattle out of him. 

He’s just an interesting topic, is all. Mystery is as much of a journalist’s candy as it is to detectives, it is up to you to ensure that unearthed discoveries find their way to the public’s eye. That’s all he’ll ever be. The same way that all you’ll ever be to him is a pest. 

Right? 

~

Routine was a safe net for you to fall back onto. Living in the underbelly of the city never constituted any new changes or risks, it was secluded yet still densely populated and as usual, a tad unsafe. Visits from the local vigilante were pretty frequent, you would see him around even when you were just walking about the streets. 

Every single part of your routine was designed to blend in as much as possible. You would wear unassuming clothing, take the commute to work, take the commute back once you were done, and occasionally eat outside when you thought you deserved it. 

If the ever the opportunity presents that you can reward yourself, you enjoy sampling some of the cuisine that’s in your area. You never eat at the same restaurant twice, simply because it’s good to try new things and frequenting one place makes you too easy of a target. 

Which is why you’re definitely surprised when two figures in black hoodies begin to follow you once you exit the doors of the restaurant, they follow you three blocks down so now you can’t convince yourself that it’s merely a coincidence. Once you turn a corner, you break into a run. Tightly gripping the bag of food in your hand as you dash past street lamps and smelly dumpsters, the footfalls of your hopefully-not captors in the distance get faster and faster. 

Adrenaline grips you tightly. When you turn the corner again, you make your way into a secluded alley and hide behind the dumpster. Peeking out, the vague shape of your apprehendors zoom past and you’re finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. 

It’s only when you hear grunts of pain and thuds of bodies against the floor, does your heart begin to race again. Slowly, you make your way to the edge of the street’s crevice as your eyes squint at the unruly sight before you. 

In a speed that you certainly didn’t expect, your previous apprehendors were face flat on the cold cement and Spider-Man was menacingly standing above them, chest heaving, and unbearably furious through the mask. As if he could sense his unwanted audience, he narrowed his eyes at before stomping his way towards you. 

You take a few steps back from the way he invades your space, maybe it can’t be helped considering just how tall he is, but you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. What he’s about to say next certainly isn’t going to help either. 

“Why are you of all people walking alone at night? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Yep, called it.

“Is that seriously any way to talk to someone that almost got themself killed?” You huffed, his frustation was evident. He turns to massaging his temples with his fingers to fight off a horrific migraine. There is clearly so much more that he wants to say, but your point stands correct still. You really could have died, if he weren’t there to save you.

“Fine, I can take you home then.” 

“... Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Let’s go.” 

There was barely any room for argument, if there was room to spare at all, he was very insistent on being your personal escort. Despite it seeming like the very idea of being in such close proximity with you for over a minute may as well kill him, you weren’t in the position to decline that kind of offer anyway. Begrudgingly, you give him the directions to your apartment building. 

What you don’t expect is him picking you up by the waist with nary a warning before swinging from building to building. Was he following the way to your residence? Yes. Was he doing it the way that you wanted him to do it? Absolutely not! You cling to him for dear life, until your feet are firmly planted on the ground as he safely deposits you onto the roof of your place. 

It’s a bare moment of silence, consumed by labored breathing and rustling fabric. You glance up at him, and his expression is almost unreadable. “Uh, thank you.” 

He sharply averts his gaze, making his disgruntledness all the more obvious now. “Just… Don’t do that again. You’re smarter than this.” 

You raise a brow, “So you think I’m smart?” 

���Don’t flatter yourself, you made some stupid decisions tonight.” 

“Actually, do you think I could get you on the record for that? I’m sure that you have a⎯”

“Okay. Good night.” 

And… he’s gone. 

~ 

Suffice to say, maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought you were. 

Ever since your publication on Alchemax came out, danger has sought you at every corner. Nowadays, your commute is a race to get out of the subway as fast as you can, especially when you meet eyes with a mysterious man who was sending daggers at you with his glare alone. Honestly, he might have had an actual dagger on him, but you certainly weren’t looking forward to finding out. 

What else is there to say other than it sucks? Truly, your already constrained lifestyle is beginning to close its walls on you ever since you released that God forsaken article. 

There isn’t the option to leave your job either, it wouldn’t be worth it to leave because you actually enjoy what you do to the point where you could say that you love your job despite the whole getting followed, stalked, and attacked scheme. Besides, it would be even more foolish to let go of your only stable source of income at the moment. 

Not like you can afford any sort of protection for yourself either, your company can’t care enough to provide any form of guard because it’s a case that happens with most journalists. You certainly don’t have the funds to get your own bodyguard. The most you have in your bag is pepper spray and a sneaky taser. 

This is probably the part where you begin to accept just how risky it is living the way that you do, but it is so much easier said than done. There never will be a point in expecting something in return for all of your hard work except a paycheck and compliments from appreciators, because that’s probably just the way things are. And that is how they’ll stay forever.

The slight of hopelessness that worms its way into the crevices of your brain spreads out into the other aspects of your day-to-day life, the joy that you receive from performing each task, the simple things that made everything else worth it, was drained through every fibre of your being. Restaurant stops weren’t an option anymore, cafe visits were a no-go, you just have to head straight home from work, recharge, and do it all over again. 

So much so that you don't realize there’s someone in pursuit of you after you carry yourself through the subway, until you’re backed up against a brick wall and a knife lodges its way into your shoulder. You don’t scream, you can’t. Because they have a gloved hand pressed up against your gaping mouth. Well, you are making noise, sputtered and choked. 

It was only a matter time before you lost enough blood to pass out. Your eyes glossed over and the brick scratched against the back of your head as you begun to slump in the culprit’s grasp. As you were falling, you felt the hand on your mouth tighten as they removed the knife from your body. 

Everything else that follows happens in a haze. It almost felt like your spirit itself was separate from your body, being a passenger instead of the driver. There is someone talking to you, you think. Hurried whispers and worried murmurs, here and there. 

“Stay wi… now…” 

“You… afe…. prom…” 

“... upid… St…” 

~

Nueva York’s hospitals had never brought comfort for you. They were overly sterile, suffocating, and intolerable. You’ve only had to go once in the entire period that you’ve lived in the city, and it has forever soured what you’ve thought of the establishment. But this place? It was nothing like that.

When you had awoken, warm light bounced off of sage and dandelion patterned sheets. Your head had been carefully positioned up on plush pillows that matched the bedding, the room was nicely furnished and decorated like it was actually meant to be a liveable space rather than just a holding for patients. On your bedside table, there was a bouquet of flowers along with a ‘Get Well Soon’ card. 

It was truly puzzling. It was still dark out, the sky hadn't even looked like it moved since you got stabbed. Wouldn’t seem like even your friends that lived in the same area would have caught wind and came to see you. 

Suffice to say, your answer is right next to you. 

A strange man was sitting at the chair next to your bed, bouncing his leg as his eyes were glued to a watch-looking contraption on his wrist. Your eyes widened and your jaw fell agape, movements that he could pick up from the corner of his eye as he turned to you. 

Shock, this was the guy that saved you?!

He wasn’t anything short of attractive. His hair was a dark chestnut, slicked back save for a few strands you can only assume fell out of place from the scuffle with your attacker. He had a sharp jaw, strong nose, and thick lips. Crimson eyes too, oddly enough. Eh, you can look past that. 

You want to smile, you almost do, but it doesn’t even get the chance to fall from your face when he looks at you with a scowl. “I thought I could leave you alone long enough for you to not get into any shocking messes.” 

That voice. It’s way too easy to recognize, to put the pieces together. Your face twists to one of distaste that matches his own, you almost shriek. “Spider-M—?!” 

Almost instantly, he leans forward and presses a finger to his lips. A very obvious gesture for you to shut up, but you just couldn’t believe what you were seeing really. Among all nights you were expecting him to reveal his face to you, if it were even a possibility to begin with, you would have never expected it to be tonight. 

“Could you keep it down?” He scoffs, slumping back in his chair when he’s reassured that you’re not going to scream bloody murder. You narrow your eyes a little, trying to convince yourself that this isn’t a hallucination from all of the blood that you lost. 

“I- I don’t get it. You saved me again? Where even are we?” 

“It’s a private clinic, you would be too easy of a target if you were brought to one of the general hospitals.�� It explains the pleasant decoration and nicer atmosphere, although you were sure that this place would have your bill shooting through the roof. It was expensive enough at the general hospitals, just imaging how much you’d have to pay here. “If you’re worried about the cost, don’t.” 

The horrifying implications of that statement were that he had already settled the charge for you, it’s a debt that you’re going to be stuck with for a while because there is no way in hell that you can scrape up that much money with just your job alone. Maybe revising your resume would be a good idea when you get discharged…

“Listen to me, you need to quit your job.” 

Nevermind, not as nice of an atmosphere anymore. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“You could have died tonight if I hadn’t caught you in that alleyway, rapidly losing blood. I can’t always be there for you, I can’t always save you, or everyone for that matter. Find– find something safer, or work from home. I don’t care. I just can’t– you shouldn’t–”

Whatever seems to be on his mind can’t find its way out through words, you can see it in the way that his lips purse and his eyes go from exasperated to defeated. His shoulders shake with slightly trembling breaths as he ruffles his hair with bruised fingers. All behaviors you’ve noticed when you’ve seen him geared up, but it feels so much realer now that he’s unmasked. Vulnerable. For you. 

Sympathy burns your skin, watching him so disheveled over the fact that this really could have been your last night alive. Never in your right mind would you have thought that he cared this much, a name is at the tip of your tongue. You don’t know what to call him, his alias feels wrong in this moment. 

“I… I know.” You shift closer to his side on your bed, “But I can’t quit. I’m not only doing this for pay, there are people out there that need my help too. It’s scary for me too, but it’s not enough to stop me fom doing what I need, want, to do.” 

There is a fraction of understanding in the way he looks at you. He knows, deep down, that he can’t change your mind. He thought that maybe, if he begged enough, if he tried harder, the world would keep you a little safer. But he knows as well, deep down, that isn’t true. There’s a chance that it will never be true. 

Though, you don’t know that. You probably never will. 

The very least he could do is protect you, more than he already is. He was never supposed to stay here, waiting for you to wake up. By your side, as the lamp’s light shone down you and blessed your gentle features. He never should have revealed his face to you, spilled his guts, and trusted you to be careful with them. He knows what happens when that’s the case. 

“It’s Miguel. O’Hara.” 

You’re taken aback by this sudden breach in his personal identity, but of course, it isn’t unwelcome. “Alright then. Good to finally have a name to the face, Miguel. I won’t tell anyone, for once.” 

He has a little bit of heart to chuckle at that, but it fades quickly. “... I’m still– thinking about your situation though.” 

“I appreciate you covering everything and the concern, but I’ll be fine. If you really do worry and care for me an awful lot though, then we can keep in touch.” You drawl out the last statement with a teasing lilt, offering a smile to lift the tense air in the room. 

He doesn’t acknowledge it, or deny it even. He just stares at you with an expression you haven’t sene his face long enough to decipher him for, before he nods. The corner of his lips curling upward, only a tiny bit. 

“We will.”

[eurydicees]

i think iwaizumi is like. ok so he comes off as cool and athletic and smart and popular and, yk, to a degree, he totally is! he’s incredible at volleyball and he gets decent grades and he’s a good friend and overall well-liked by the general seijoh population.

ALSO at the same time he is like. the lamest popular guy in the world.

this is a title that oikawa has given him and the part that iwaizumi protests is not “lame” but “popular.” some points that oikawa makes, when talking to iwaizumi about how much of a normal average deeply Just A Guy iwaizumi is:

iwaizumi’s favorite activity is, first and foremost, volleyball; and second, it’s “spend time watching d-rated martial arts movies with my best friend.”

i appreciate it and love this, oikawa says, obviously, but you do have other things you can do with your time. do you know that. it doesn’t seem like you know that.

he’s popular, he has other friends, he could have his pick of girlfriends, and he chooses to instead monopolize oikawa’s time through varying methods of aggression and/or affection.

why do you not have a girlfriend yet, oikawa asks. i’m too busy keeping you in line, iwaizumi says. to which oikawa replies, you suck at being popular, iwa.

people think he’s cool because he likes the outdoors, likes going on hikes with his free time, excels at every athletic task, etc etc.

what they do not know is that he likes going on hikes to look at the changing leaves and his favorite way to interact with nature is like his fucking rock collection or some shit.

do they have names, oikawa asks, teasing. shut the fuck up, iwaizumi says. then, fucking obviously they have names.

he’s not scared of bugs, girls whisper when he passes in the hallways. he saved me from a spider one time, they say, and oikawa claims they swoon.

and like, oikawa HAS to laugh because this is the same boy who tried to keep a tank of beetles he collected from the park and cried hysterically both first when they all escaped, and second when his mother yelled at him for ten minutes about the five she found in the sugar jar. he was fourteen.

“he’s so smart,” someone says admiringly when iwaizumi helps them a bit with their class work. oikawa is rolling his damn eyes because iwaizumi is smart, sure, he’s doing fine in school, but he’s evidently not smart enough to calculate the risk/reward of a monetary bet on how many pork buns he can fit in his mouth. more than 8 gets him 1000 yen. less than 8 makes him lose 1500.

what the fuck was he thinking, oikawa is forced to ask, first when he nearly has to perform the heimlich maneuver and later when he buys iwaizumi a consolation bottle of water. what the fuck.

people think he’s mysterious and stoic and kind of darkly intriguing because he doesn’t necessarily laugh a lot while he’s in class and focused, and while he’s friendly with everyone, he still sticks pretty close to his little group.

oikawa cannot believe that anyone could ever think this because iwaizumi gets home after school and does not shut the fuck up. and he’s so easy to make laugh. and his every expression is so easy to read.

how could you possibly have anyone convinced that you are cool and mysterious, oikawa asks. how the fuck did you do that.

iwaizumi is forced to shrug. he doesn’t really have an answer. people just kind of make their own assumptions about him no matter what he does. doesn’t matter anyways. oikawa might be the only one who seems to truly get him, but he’s okay with that. if it had be one person, he’s glad it’s someone he loves.

and now what the fuck is oikawa supposed to do with that.

(push him down on the bed and kiss him, oikawa finds, seems to be the right answer.)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Miss Raven! I really liked your answer and I hope you don't mind me passing by add some of my thoughts about the previous question you answered 🙃

When I think about a fem!Yuu and the questions of whether she would be treated differently or not by the guys, I actually think it's more about the personality of the said fem!Yuu then her gender (like her gender is just a slight addition) 🤔

If she is strong and independent like Yuuka, or even a troublesome one, NRC students are more likely to see her as someone they are willing to fight and treat her as a rival, but if the said fem!Yuu is more on the nervous, shy, or weak (you name it) side; the less the guys would actually fight with her, the more they would be slightly lenient, giving that she fit the "fairer sex" thing that boys usually grow up with in real life where it seems to be the case in Twisted Wonderland too, or at least with the human population by returning to Epel's dialogue with Vil in book 5 and Ace vignette in the ghost bride event.

My conclusion is it's depending on the personality of fem!Yuu and how she interact with others rather then she being a girl, but that's just my thoughts on that matter.

[Referencing this post!]

I think that's a fair point to make! I definitely feel like Yuu's personality would have a larger and more noticeable impact than gender identity on how the NRC students react to them. If we take a look at the manga and light novel Yuus thus far, we can see this in action.

Yuuken (a man) and Yuuka (a woman) are both more stoic and "cool" characters (with Yuuken being more blunt/straight-faced and Yuuka being more passionate and ready to scrap), so the main cast doesn't really react all that differently to them. Yuuta, meanwhile, is much more friendly and "soft" from his introduction. However, he's not to be underestimated! He has a very stern side to him as well, which comes out when food's not being properly appreciated. In this case, Yuuta is an amicable guy, but amicability doesn't automatically equate to weakness. It's his skills and personality that alter a few of his interactions with the main cast--for example, Yuuta is mad at Grim for rushing to class while eating instead of sitting down to enjoy his breakfast. Additionally, Yuuta is able to convince Leona to let him stay the night by offering up his culinary talents rather than beating up Savanaclaw mobs (which occurs in the game).

But!! I want to stress that I don't believe that a nervous, shy, or weak-willed Yuu would necessarily garner more leniency or kindness overall. In the case with Yuuta, Leona still required that he earn his keep somehow. Leona wasn't nicer to him at all. I'd also like to point out that Yuuya, our Yuu from the light novel adaptation, is very much the nervous, shy, and weak-willed Yuu that was described--and arguably some of the characters are meaner to them than any of the manga Yuus or the game!Yuu have been thus far. Ace definitely gets a lot more cruel jabs in. Even Yuuya's initial meeting with Malleus comes across as a lot more impersonal. (This could also be the result of the light novel not being limited on pages or engine limitations though!) In other cases, characters are nicer too. Ace formally apologizes for being mean to Yuuya and the scene where Yuu steps on Leona’s tail in the garden is entirely removed. Instead, Leona saves Yuuya who is being harassed by Savanaclaw mobs while he is picking up eggs from the Mystery Shop—though not out of pure kindness.

Realistically speaking, I can see other NRC students trying to take advantage of someone with a "weak" personality like Yuuya, or looking down on them because they're not able to stand up for themselves. They become an easy target for bullying. Again, less of a gender thing and more of a personality thing!

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Something I find interesting when viewing the two recent Dune movies as a whole is that initially, Paul is more than willing to use the prophecy and his visions for his own gain to convince Liet to help them, while Jessica whispers "careful!" at his side, and she later recommends they leave the planet entirely. But Paul decides they'll stay with the Fremen. Even at the beginning of Part 2, Paul is like "fuck yeah let's wage war on the Harkonnen" and Jessica is again counseling caution: "your father didn't believe in revenge." She goes through the Water of Life ceremony not because she wants to help Paul fulfill the prophecy but because she's forced to: do this or die. And even then, the old Reverend Mother had to use the Voice on her to get Jessica to drink.

That all changes when Jessica nearly dies during the ceremony. After that, Paul becomes more wary of embracing the prophecy, and she just throws herself into it. Paul nearly loses his mother (and his unborn sister) to a painful, agonizing poison - mere hours/days after losing his father and all their friends/allies to the Harkonnen slaughter - and decides it's not worth it. Meanwhile, Jessica gets a direct download of memories of millennia of oppression and goes "yeah let's burn everything to the ground."

It's an interesting, quick reversal at the beginning of the second movie, and it's great.

Ooh thank you for this great ask. I can always count on you for smart and thoughtful Jessica takes!

You make a really good observation about their reversal of positions--I had been struggling to figure out how Paul's line about "I must sway the non-believers" fit into his overall arc, but you are absolutely right that this feels like a continuation of how he talks to Liet. We're seeing the first stirrings of that little "maybe I am special" thought that later takes center stage.

For most of Part Two, Paul has several reliable counterweights pulling against that streak of arrogance and high-handedness that he's had from the beginning. Jessica almost dies drinking the Water of Life, which, like you point out, has got to make him think twice about encouraging people to believe in the prophecy. Then, he spends most of the movie surrounded by Chani and her friends and comrades, who seem the most skeptical of the prophecy and also aren't going to give his ego the time of day. And at the same time, he has an opportunity to pour his desire for revenge into collective political action that seems to be making a difference.

It's only when those countervailing forces start collapsing (the people who had started out as his equals are now becoming his followers; the Harkonnens attack Sietch Tabr and other civilian population centers, proving they are far from militarily defeated; Gurney shows up and immediately offers what seems like an easy solution to their problems that only Paul can access) that the little maybe I am special voice starts winning again.

As for Jessica, her journey doesn't get as much focus in the movie but it's also fascinating. She's a great character because she is so fucking smart at navigating power structures from what seems like an unenviable position. Did she have any choice about being sent to Caladan to become Leto's concubine? I am guessing she did not. But she sure figured out how to work that situation to her advantage. It happened that along the way she and Leto came to genuinely love and respect each other. But I'm sure she would still have figured out an angle even if that had not been the case.

In Part Two she starts out in a frankly quite terrifying position: she can undergo this unknown, dangerous ritual or die, and also possibly put Paul's safety at risk by raising doubt about whether he is the Lisan al-Gaib. But after she survives the Water of Life, she is launched into a powerful position in Fremen society and pretty quickly realizes she can use that to both protect Paul and get her revenge on the people who tried to kill her whole family. And unlike Paul, she is much more cognizant of the intergalactic power structures at work and aware that the Harkonnens themselves were a pawn in all this, so her target is the Bene Gesserit and the emperor.

I would have loved more time to explore Jessica's relationship to Fremen society and her POV in general. Because in some ways she becomes as Fremen as it's possible for her to be--she has access to thousands of years of memories of Fremen history and culture and politics; she becomes instantly fluent in the language and she is immersed in Fremen daily life in the sietch. (If there's one single thing I wanted more of, it was daily life in the sietch.) But she's still the same person she was, so she hasn't lost that ability to be ruthless and calculating and see people as forces to be manipulated. In Part One, her love for Paul and Leto provided an interesting counterweight to this that allowed us to see some moments of vulnerability from her (ie. she knows Paul has to undergo the Gom Jabbar test but she's terrified for him while it's happening). In Part Two she is so isolated for most of the movie (away from Paul; surrounded by followers who were never friends; I think we can all agree that talking to your unborn fetus doesn't really count) that we don't get a lot of these more unguarded moments from her. (I would have loved some Jessica/Stilgar action and it seems like the potential was very much set up for that, but I understand why they didn't have time.)

But in general I thought they did a great job of setting up this contradictory tension between Jessica and Paul, where they both want so desperately to protect each other and they both want revenge, but the way they each go about it ends up putting them in direct conflict with each other.

[heliads]

HEY HEY HEY!! can u make a the darkling x reader soulmate au?? one where reader is a powerful grisha and has lived nearly as long as he has? they walked the earth and met each other a few times, not knowing they were the same people. sometimes, a romance almost happened, but because they knew they would outlive them, it never happened. How about aleks meets reader by chance in a village near fjerda and they recognize each other for the first time and realize they are each other's soulmate? ♡ U!!

HEY HEY HEY!! your au is that your scars stay on your soulmate's skin.

masterlist

You would think that the centuries would go by faster once you’d experienced enough of them. When you grow up, it’s like the years pass with greater and greater speed, but there must be a leveling point to that mad exponential curve, because you reached it a long time ago. The decades don’t fly by anymore, they drag like the heels of your boots in the soft mud connecting the Wandering Isle to Novyi Zem.

That particular sinking earth is gone, much like most of the places from your memory. The land bridge between the two nations, which was already tentative at best back when you were born, has long been pulled under the current of the True Sea. Now, the recollections of old work boots falling into dirt have just as much hold as the place itself. Everything you knew is gone, constantly replaced by newer, flashier people and cities.

It haunts you sometimes, more often than not. You lie awake at night with a melody stuck in your head, one you haven’t heard in over two hundred years. There’s no chance that anyone remembers it except you, so you hum it to yourself, wondering if the ghosts of friends past can hear you or if they, too, are just ash and dust by now. Supposedly, they would have been folded into the welcoming arms of the Making at the Heart of the World, but you still harbor a hope that they’re still looking out for you.

Hope is all you have. As if it doesn’t mess with your head to trust your footsteps through a Ravkan town you’d lived in for decades, only to find that it’s doubled in size and population since you were last there. Or, when you finally remember that you owe a neighbor a favor, only to recall that their great-great grandchildren died out a century past. Nothing in this world is yours, not in the way that it was at the start. You can keep reinventing yourself, but it’ll never make anything stick.

All that musing over places long gone, and you still can’t convince the hours of the clock to turn by any faster. You’d like nothing more than for the years to skip by, to finally bring about your end of days or at least a change in them, because if you have more centuries under your belt, it’ll mean you’ll have searched all of the lands as many times as you can, and maybe then, you just might be able to meet your soulmate.

That, of all things, might calm your restless spirit. If it were not enough to have far more centuries in which to live out your life than the rest of the Grisha, you have to do it alone, too, knowing that most everyone you pass has someone out there built for them, someone to keep them company in a way you will never understand, no matter how many generations you live.

You often wonder if your soulmate might be out there somewhere. It’s an easy matter to spiral over. They could have been alive at the very start of your life, and died centuries before you could even meet them. Maybe there were only a few days in which your lives overlapped, or maybe you were born on the exact same day and never knew it until they died and you stayed, relentlessly, alive.

Or, worst of all, they could still be out there now, forever condemned to orbit the land at the other side of you, forever crossing paths but never meeting, always one step behind or hours ahead of schedule. There is, hypothetically, a way of telling if the person before you is your soulmate, but it only works if you have the fellow in front of you and the certainty only mad love can bring you.

In this world, in a world full of pain and pleasure, power and pride, the only way that you know for certain that you are connected with your soulmate are your injuries. They’ll show up on your soulmate’s skin, exactly at the same time and the same places as you receive them. They won’t feel the sensation of hurt as you do, and the bruises and cuts will fade as yours do, but in the minutes and hours in which you are bloody and damaged, they will be, too.

Scars last. That’s how most people know. When you see a childhood injury reflected on someone else’s knee or arm, you can tell it’s them. It’s as if a hook has been pulled through both of you, tying you together in a celebration of glitter and gore. It’s horrific, and it’s love, and no one has dared to mess with the process for the millennia in which soulmates have been around.

Least of all your soulmate. They marked you a long time ago, and although you weren’t there to see it happen, you can’t help but wonder at their rationale now. A scar curls around your left hand ring finger. It looks like a burn, and it must have been a serious one too, judging by the fact that it’s lasted this long. 

You can imagine your soulmate somewhere out there, forcing a white-hot band of metal around their finger and keeping it on despite the unendurable pain until they knew the scar would last forever. Imagine what that must mean to them, to you. There is a message that they’re trying to send to you, patterned in the syllables of their scorched flesh:  I love you to the point of agony, and past it. What a terrible sort of devotion for a soulmate. What a devastating burden of love for you to bear.

It makes you sick to your stomach, at times, and other days, it just makes you numb. Perhaps this is what you get, the Saints’ way of evening the scales. Everyone knows that the greed of a Grisha never goes unchecked, and maybe this is your diving retribution at last. You strove for too much too quickly, and now you have an excess of time in which you can ponder your failings, all alone for all eternity. It would make a sad sort of joke were it not at your expense.

After all, you should have died a long time ago, soulmate be damned. You started out life as a Heartrender, although you left the typical roles of that particular type of Corporalki behind long ago. At first, you merely shattered bone and spilt blood, but then you learned how to do more. Why kill one man when you can end dozens of lives with just as much force? Then, why kill when you can turn your attention towards yourself, healing not just surface wounds but deeper things, erasing the signs of age and wear until you were just as strong as you were at your prime?

Some would call it immortality. Others would curse it as witchcraft. You don’t need anyone’s misguided explanations anymore, though, your power will long outlive both them and their whisperings. It is power, plain and simple, and it is yours. You don’t just transmutate flesh and bone anymore, you shape life itself. Your life. Your life, extended forever, waiting for a soulmate who can keep up with you or die trying.

At times, you hate it, this prolonged life that you’ve given yourself. At the same time, the thought of dying without accomplishing all that you could is terrifying. The easiest thing to do is to keep living, keep drawing breath and wondering when things will change. If they don’t, well, at least you were here to see it. 

After all, have you ever been satisfied with your lot in life? You send a silent plea to any Saints up there, if they're still listening at all or merely content to keep pulling their strings and directing you down darker, rougher roads. Let me rest. Please. They send only one word back, after everything:  No.

So you continue your journey. Ravka needs your attention for a time, then you cross the True Sea to Kerch and Novyi Zem, and another century has passed by the time you think about returning to the eastern shores. The Shadow Fold makes things more difficult, certainly, but death is no enemy of yours, so you find ways of crossing, even if they take a while.

This time, you decide to cut through Fjerda on your various journeys. The wintry landscapes take your breath away, as they always do, but it’s a little difficult to marvel at the wonders of the country when they’re so fiercely dedicated to exterminating your fellow Grisha. You take it upon yourself to take out a few branches of the witch hunters, those treacherous drüskelle, and so you have a purpose for at least a little longer.

You get to take action upon this initiative while stopping in a small town close to the Fjerdan border for the night. While attempting to book a room in a local inn, you can’t help but pick up on the uncanny sensation of racing hearts somewhere closeby. You step away from the inn, distracted, and chase the sound of blood pounding through veins until it takes you into the surrounding woods.

There, you stumble upon what had been causing you such an uncanny sensation. A young woman, a Grisha Tidemaker by the looks of it, is attempting to evade capture by two upstart drüskelle captains. She hasn’t yet mastered her gift, and they’re well armed, so the situation is not good, to say the least.

Grisha are your people, even if you’ve become somehow separated from them by your many years. You fling out an arm and the two drüskelle go flying into the distance, clutching at their hearts as they burst in their chests. One more witch hunter materializes out of the gloom, but before he can fire off a round at you, a wave of shadow cuts off his breath and he falls to the ground, choking into stillness. The Tidemaker runs off the second the coast is clear, leaving you alone with this new stranger.

You turn around slowly, but the man emerging from the woods doesn’t seem to be a threat. He’s some kind of Etherealnik, but you’ve only heard of so many Shadow Summoners in your time. Perhaps there’s another one again.

“I came out to help,” he says, voice relaxed despite your hands raised at him in anticipation of a strike, “It appears that you didn’t need it, though.”

He doesn’t seem inclined to attack you, but you don’t trust the way he’s still hanging back in the shadows. You can’t see much of his face, nor his demeanor. “I’m no stranger to the drüskelle. They’ve always been the same sort of fools.”

“Always?” The stranger asks, allowing a note of humor to enter his words, “Have you been around long enough to judge them, then?”

You sigh. “Longer than you’d think.”

Instead of being put off by this, the stranger just grins, moonlight flashing on his teeth. “You’d be surprised what I think. I’m older than I seem.”

You look curiously at him. The man steps out of the shadows and into a patch of moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat. “No. That’s impossible.”

He’s not lying when he talks about being older than his appearance. You’ve seen this face before. Several times, if you’re not mistaken. A rebel against the Ravkan king a few centuries ago. A scholar of the Saints. A son trying to care for his mother. He’s been here whenever you passed through Ravka, but you never dared to assume that he could be anything but a familiar face passed down through the generations.

For some reason, on this night, you stop letting yourself doubt. This is a man who has been alive quite as long as you have, if not longer. Perhaps it’s the unearthly shine of the moonlight on the Fjerdan snow, transfiguring this scene into one of your memories, or perhaps it’s the fact that he’s taken his gloves off so he could summon his shadows, and you can see the imprint of a burn around the ring finger of his left hand.

No. It couldn’t be. After all this time, your soulmate cannot be the same young man you’ve crossed paths with half a dozen times before. What a cruel joke to play.

“Y/N?” He asks slowly, eyes as wide as yours.

You told him your name in one of your lives. He trusted you enough to say his back to you. “Aleksander?”

“Show me your hand,” he tells you, voice as steady as it’s always been.

When you hesitate, he crosses the clearing in a flash, standing in front of you. One of his hands curls around your wrist, holding it still, while the other holds up your fingers to the moonlight. He looks at the burn there, his burn, and at last, he smiles. It’s a proud look, almost vicious.

“You know,” he says slowly, “I always thought I’d marry you. I was a child then, and foolish, but I find I don’t mind the idea much anymore.”

He cocks his head to the side, staring openly at the scar he’d bound to both of you. You had wondered if you would fear your soulmate when you first met him, but instead, you just feel whole. A broken half has finally been reunited with its other part.

“Do you remember when we were both in Kribirsk together?” You ask slowly, haltingly, “I got a house right by the Unsea so I could study it. I think you were there for the same reason. We were the only two people in that whole town who weren’t afraid of it.”

He nods, eyes white with moonlight. “You fascinated me even then. When you left, I didn’t know how to live with myself. I started a whole new life just so the old one wouldn’t have to figure it out.”

You’d done the same thing. It took every bit of strength in you to go. You hadn’t wanted to leave the little house with the captivating man next door, but the other townspeople were starting to ask why you hadn’t aged since you’d shown up there decades ago, and the questions are only ever the start of your downfall. You’d cursed his name and yours in turn for the next few years until the heartbreak subsided.

“Before I left, though. We were alright.” You whisper.

He takes your other hand. “We’ll be alright again. It’s us now. Just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, and for once, you let yourself believe it. You have it, your soulmate, him.

And at last, after centuries of wandering the land and sea alone, of second-guessing every shadow, of wondering what you did to deserve so much time by yourself without love, you realize that it has come to an end. All of it. There is no more solitude for you. Here by your side stands your soulmate. The long day has passed, and the rest of a quiet night shadows your threshold. It’s time to go home, so you think, but you’re already there.

requested by @cassiecrown, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

[alwaysxlarrie]

harry is louis’ baby fic rec masterlist part 2 :)

hi hello, so, i actually started putting together this masterlist at the end of april (since then, ‘ain’t that a kick in the head!’ has been deleted, which was on the original list. big rip) but then life just kept getting in the way. & i have like 57485 fic rec masterlists that i want to get out but i wanted to post this one first, so. here i am. i usually do 50 fics per rec list, but this is 25. so it seems i can do a (semi) shorter fic rec list. who would’ve thought? anyway, enjoy!!

a million roses (bathed in rock n’ roll) by deLILAh

i’d come across this fic a number of times before i actually read it because i don’t listen to lana del rey (thank you jennifer & @hlkings for showing me the wonders of her music) so i wasn’t sure if i’d be able to follow the storyline. but!!! worry not. that knowledge isn’t required. amazing strangers to lovers, good smut, 10/10 relationship development & individual character development 

and the truth shall set you free... by @jaerie / jaerie

jaerie knows i love this fic. my friends know i love this fic. i’m pretty sure most of the world’s population knows too. the relationship development in general & portrayal of inexperienced!harry/experienced!louis is top tier. it’s interesting reading harry going through his journey, in a generally pretty accurate way (from the perspective of someone who grew up religious), so i love that it’s in harry’s pov. i love how louis goes from teasing to soft to guiding so naturally, as well.

a rose, by any other name by @canonlarry / iwillpaintasongforlou

this fic portrays protective louis so well while harry’s still independent & in charge of his own autonomy. there’s some mentions of violence in this, just a disclaimer, but it’s veryyyyy minor! really good (dark) plot twist at the end too!

a cage for every ugly spirit by sarcasticfluentry

listennnnnnnnnnnnn. this fic??? & it’s sequel???? amazing. top tier. i just love how all the different elements of religion, kink, romance, smut, etc connect

be my little good luck charm by 100percentsassy

the flirting!!!!!! my heart!!!!!!!!!! i know larry hitting it off right away is a canon trope & all that but it’s not always easy to write in a way that doesn’t feel rushed & this fic depicts that perfectly. there’s so much wonderful humor, fluffy moments & lots of domesticness.

baby we could be enough (i’ll make this feel like home) by orphan account

i am an absolute sucker for fics where either harry or louis is a single father & the other one just swoops into their life & fits. & that’s exactly how this fic is. i’m not an angst person at all, but i also love how there’s realistic angst/concerns that a single parent would have about bringing another person into their lives. other than that bit, there’s still a whole lotta fluff !!

breathless for eternity by cabinbythesea

wow another fic where they’re strangers, hit it off immediately & have the cutest dynamic!! i’m a walking cliché atp but listen, although this is mostly pwp imo, the way louis picks up on harry’s mannerisms, what he needs as a sub, how to tease, etc is beautiful???? that takes talented writing!! we love to see it?? thank you for this???

boy for sale by @ohpleaselarry / ohpleaselarry

i mean, listen. do be mindful of the tags & what not, but. at the very core, harry is simply louis’ baby & you will not be convincing me otherwise. i would absolutely die for a prequel or a sequel. the undertones throughout this fic are *chef’s kiss*

baby thinking of you keeps me up all night by ballsdeepinjesus

i am nothing if not consistent with loving famous!louis/fanboy!harry fics, alright? you gotta give me that at least. the internal struggle louis goes through throughout the majority of this fic is so funny but also so real of him??? plus, we love thigh fucking here, so. a winner in my book!

do not falter (there’s a star ahead) by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

all you need in life is harry feeling safe surrounded by louis’ scent. shit, me too, harold. there’s so much cuteness in such a short lil fic & altho it’s open ended, we all know they got together & lived happily ever after, thank you v much

gotta get (me) outta my head by @parmahamlarrie / parmahamlarrie

i have severe adult adhd & the way bee wrote this is phenomenal at making anyone who has adhd feel so seen & understood. i dream about writing my struggles w adhd as wonderfully as she did. & the way louis helps harry & is there for her in just the right ways so, so fantastically done. top tier fic for sure. 

heartbeat (fire on fire) by @larryficwriter / theifinlife

this fic was written for my @notjustsmutficfest & i adore it. louis being so vulnerable to comfort harry, louis’ family being so supportive, the check ins during the smut, the way harry makes sure louis is okay too??? I’M CRYING PEOPLE (also, there’s great smut, too)

i love this feeling (but i hate this part) by @lululawrence / lululawrence

i love the crack mixed with cute dynamic mixed with dealing with very real life situations. & the teasing at the end????? i cry!!! give this a read asap rocky

i’ll crash until you notice me by @aliensingucci / stylinsoncity

i love the pacing & how it brings in realistic elements of a boss/employee relationship while not taking out you out of the fic. top tier smut & dirty talk. the bar + bathroom scene??? that shit was art. also i love how much harry went to bat for the natives & kept coaxing louis to respect the culture of the buildings & all that. (like it’s the bare minimum really but i do like the fact that the fic went into that aspect & acknowledged it!)

late night talking by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything

this is simply just me continuing to not let lauren forget how much i love this fic. i could talk about this fic for hours & i’ve included this on a masterlist before but idc bc listen. the sneak dating?? the flirting?? the tension building?? there were a few plot points that kept me on my toes (everett, i’m looking at you & how long you managed to stick around for) & i respect that. i have so much more i could say about this fic but i’ll stop here so i don’t spoil anything lol.

my pleasure (to make you mine) by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

i don’t think i’ve let zanni have a moment of peace about this fic since i read it. for that, zanni, i’m sorry. but i’m also really, really not. the way their dynamic right off the bat is so seamless & louis does his best to make harry feel comfortable is what we in the industry like to call cinema. prior to this fic i didn’t really care one way or the other about nipple play in fics & now i don’t understand why it doesn’t occur more in fics?? zanni, you’ve changed me as a woman thx bb

meow or never by velvetnoodle

as a cat lover who has attempted to discreetly bring cats home before & a louis lover, i understand harry’s dilemma. i would also do exactly what he did if given louis’ offer. i will leave it at that & will let you bask in the magic that is this fic.

no bunny but you by @crinkle-eyed-boo / crinkle-eyed-boo

this is another fic i will simply never shut up about. louis is smooth as shit??? like. i WISH a guy would do for me what he did for harry in this. there’s just so much to adore in this from the flirting, the teasing, the relationship developments, the softness, all the little plot twists. 10/10, top tier, no notes

promise not to fade away by @nobodymoves / you_explode

i adore the way this toed the line of angst & fluff so well. it’s so sweet & cute & hot & has an open/ambiguous ending that still gives you a sense of closure imo. as someone who typically is not an open/ambiguous ending fic fan, i absolutely endorse this fic. 

stood up by panda_bear21

the pop punk!louis/popstar!harry (or the bad boy!louis/good boy!harry) trope will always give me the will to live. i love this fic bc it’s cute & does sexual tension well & while it does bring up closeting & general hollywood shittiness, it does a good job of making you feel like it’s not the actual focus of the plot & still leaves you with some hope, if that makes sense & i appreciate that v much

three french hems by 100percentsassy & gloria_andrews

idk if it’s because i started reading fan fics on wattpad (i mean, really my journey started w fanfiction.net & the fics that had the actual fic in the youtube description box & the video was a slideshow of pics but i digress) but i have a soft spot for smaus. & they can be....tricky (the wattpad homies know) but this is done so well & i need someone to get louis some perfectly cooked prawns pls!!!! also louis having a thing for harry’s thighs rly makes this baby a winner imo

to be a better man by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain

i have a weak spot for fics where harry or louis cheat on their significant other w each other. it’s my guilty pleasure. sue me. jen is so good at describing feelings, actions, etc to make you feel like you’re in the fic watching it happen. i adore the changes in larry’s dynamic, how smoothly it all happened, how much louis cared & understood exactly what harry needed, how easily harry gave in &let louis take care of him. i would absolutely read a part 2 of this w harry & louis together

wrapped in light, in life, in love by orphan account

i will never not be obsessed w fics that have the louis is gemma’s best friend & harry’s in love w him trope. that mixed w how easily & instantaneously harry & louis get along even after not seeing each other for years? add a dash of harry having louis’ baby & how obvious they are about their feelings for each other? GIMME

when we were young by @allwaswell16 / allwaswell16

ok so this is a series, not a fic B U T i feel like  you can read the fics stand alone & you can feel the vibe from each fic, but i think since they both have the ~vibe~ you just feel it all so much more when you read them together. ANYWAY. they’re so obviously smitten w each other & of course everyone else can see it but them. harry is an oblivious shit but we love him (&so does louis).

you took my heart by surprise by @loveislarryislove / livelaughlovelarry

it takes a while for harry & louis to warm up to each other, but once they do, it is just...so, so good. annika’s writing will make you feel like you’re actually experiencing the same emotions as the characters are. louis’ protectiveness & how adamant he is to not let anything get in the way of protecting harry, including himself is so heartbreakingly sweet. i cry. i adore how annika describes the emotionally conflicting emotions & situations while keeping the undertone of how much they care about & want each other. annika does not play when it comes to angst & that is a warning (although this is def not her most angst-filled fic by any means)

your heart can love again by sloganeer

this fic speaks to the famous!louis/fanboy!harry stan in me. a shocker, truly, i know! it’s so cute. i love how their relationships transitions in a way that’s quick but doesn’t feel forced & just makes sense -- the way they get domestic so quickly is simply *chefs kiss*

**friendly reminder to please leave kudos & comments on any of the fics you end up reading from this !! show the writers some love :)**

[morganalatina21]

Manipulating Death: Chapter Thirteen

Series Summary: When Harry discovers he has a twin sister that was hiding for years, he wants to know all about her, specially about her ability to bring people back to life.

a/n: i knoww it's been a minute, but i finally sat my ass down to write and I actually did it, I'm sorry it took so long, I was trying to meddle 2 universities, a job and a student organization, so i'ts been meltdown after meltdown. Anyways, hope you guys didn't gave up on me :)

Also for anyone that noticed, I did had to change the gif lol

Word Count: 2.5k

(Also, english isn’t my first language so I’m sorry in advance lol)

Last Chapter | Masterlist

"Please don't be mad. Although, y'all already are, probably. Did I anticipated it? Sure. Heavens know I'm sorry for not saying anything. Even if it's for the best. Lord Voldemort has to be stopped. Please don't worry, and DON'T come looking for me. Matter of fact, I shouldn't be writing. May we meet again soon."

That was all the letter, the only letter, said.

It arrived at the Grimmauld Place two and a half weeks after Y/n vanished from existence, leaving no trace behind except an incredibly disoriented family.

"How could she be gone?" Sirius mumbled for what seemed to be the twentieth time that morning, sitting in the living room, paper spread on the table as he wrote a letter to his godson; lying to him and saying that his sister was safe, yet again.

"This doesn't sound like her." Remus answered, exhaustion getting to him as he sat in front of the Black. "No little jokes, no funny tone, not even one who is clearly forced just to lighten up."

"She's in trouble." Guaranteed Regulus, pacing back and forth on the carpet like a lost cat.

The younger Black hasn't been able to sleep since he found the bed empty, desperately trying to find clues everywhere he looked. A string of her hair, her smell somewhere, anything! But no matter the effort, he'd always run into a dead end.

"We don't know that for sure, kid."

"I KNOW!" He spat, mad eyes looking at his brother.

"This could just be an attempt to get us out of the house, to go looking for her, so Death Eaters can capture us." Remus argued. "Which... is worse, because it would mean that they somehow know about her."

Regulus groaned, feeling sicker and sicker as he spoke.

"She could -possibly" Remus added, carefully stepping into the argument. "Be somewhere looking for a way to bring her parents back. I mean, she just died and got nothing on their end, she might be desesperate."

"Y/n wouldn't go without me." The young boy quickly dismissed it.

But really, he wanted to convince himself.

Was it that easy to abandon him? To leave him behind like nothing, and go run around like crazy? Because it sure wasn't easy for him to leave her.

"We should just... trust her." Sirius argued, calmly. "I trusted her enough to save my life and my little brother's, so I have to trust her enough to save her own life."

"She's too reckless."

"So we'd have to trust that she wouldn't leave us behind without a final goodbye."

Regulus swallowed thickly. The Black knew she wasn't selfish enough to survive just for herself, if it wasn't for him stopping her from bringing de death back left and right, the girl probably would've saved half the population without even thinking about the aftermaths on her health.

"We keep an eye on the news, magic and muggle, to see if we can find any clues. If she's out there messing with horcruxes, like you said before, it'll have an effect in the entire Wizarding world. If she's messing with the dead, the entire globe would feel it."

It wasn't enough for Regulus.

Staring at the news while she's out there somewhere, probably getting herself killed?

The Black sprinted downstairs, entering the basement again, trying to look for any clues, maybe a possessor he didn't notice at first, maybe a more convincing note.

He just wanted... something.

"Now that that's outta the way, keep him there." Sirius said, standing and reaching for his coat.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Save our goddaughter? And now, possibly my- my- my sister in law?" He chuckled, moving his hair into a bun. "Where else should I be going?"

"You don't actually think it's her, do you?"

The sand-haired man stared at the letter for a couple seconds, too vague, too cold. Not at all like Y/n, if it wasn't for them to go after her, as she clearly mentioned, why even bother writing a letter?

"It's a code, Moony!" He whisper-yelled, looking to the basement door, too afraid his brother would come out and ruin everything. "First letter of every sentence. It's one of the codes Prongs and I used to get each other out of trouble."

With eyes full of doubt, Remus carefully read the note again, putting letter and letter together.

"P- A- D- S- H - E - L -P - M -M " He listed. "Shouldn't it be, M and then E? Help ME?"

"No, Moons. It was always nickname, Help, and then some clue for our location."

"Did you manage to find words to spell Prongs?"

"No, I usually just scream for help."

"Makes sense." Remus shrugged, staring down at the piece of paper one more time. "So MM, stands for..."

Malfoy Manor.

A huge dark construction with dozens of rooms, in the middle of a forest, a house he used to visit when they were younger, to keep the bonds between the pureblood families alive. So much that his cousin, Narcisa, ended up marrying one.

"Never thought I'd step foot into this place again." He sighed, trying to be as careful as possible, getting inches closer to the house. "But anything for little ol Prongsie."

Truth be told, Padfoot was never one to make great plans, usually that was reserved for Prongs or Moony, he'd always be the lad to suggest just blowing everything to pieces and get on with it. But right now, he had to think carefully. If Y/n was really somewhere inside that god-awful house, possibly being held hostage, one false movement and she'd be murdered. Again.

There was a man standing tall, guarding the main door. If his eyes were correct, that was Antonin Dolohov, who he used to piss off when they were in Azkaban together, along with his oh so lovely cousin Bellatrix. That was a dead giveaway.

Lord Voldemort was there too.

"Great, we'll have a tea party while I try to negotiate my niece's life. The more the merrier." He mumbled, talking to himself, an old habit he got back after spending twelve years with basically no one to talk.

Sirius quickly transformed into his animagus form, judging it'd be safer if someone saw a dog walking around instead of a wizard who was part of the Order.

Sniffing around, he finally smelled something different from pure evil and expensive perfumes that wasn't Bella's stinky hair. The smell came from the back of the house, more specifically from a tiny window almost on the ground. The dark basement.

He yelped, keeping his distance just in case, but soon enough a forehead and eyes appeared.

"Pads!"

"What on Merlin's green underwear are you doing here?" The man whisper-yelled, now back into his original form, squatting down to take a look at her.

The girl was skinnier, with dark bags underneath her eyes, cuts with dried blood on her forehead, cheek and chin, but nonetheless there was a huge smile.

"I found my possessors!" She gestured, pointing behind her, to which Sirius could see their eyes glowing.

"That's great kid, but you still didn't answer my question."

"They still don't know about him, and they can not know." The girl said sternly. "But they do know about us hunting horcruxes down, and about me, and that's it."

So, Voldemort didn't know she could control death.

"Okay, what's the escape plan?"

Minutes later, the iron gate creaked. Sirius wasn't there anymore, leaving just a weak Y/n on a dark room with nothing but filth and oily ground.

"Y/n Potter." The man whispered, eyes wide open.

She hissed in response, "Wormtail."

"I didn't believe when they told me at first." The short guy was looking at her almost in awe, taking small steps forward. "But it really is you." Chuckling darkly, he tilted his head to the side. "I've seen that annoyed expression before, on your mother you know."

Sitting there, the girl barely blinked while looking at him. She wasn't nonchalant as usual, it was cold, stabbing daggers into his face with just her eyes.

"The dark lords demands to see you now."

His iron hand held both her wrists together tightly, bruising the already hurt flesh, to which she winced for a split of a second.

The main hall of the Malfoy Manor was mainly wiped away from the Potter's memory, hours of the Cruciatus curse making her memory blurry and unclear. Although she always remembered the arrangement: Voldemort was the only one sitting down, on what she assumed to be the fanciest armchair the Malfoys owned.

The rest of the Death Eaters stood in a parable, the dark lord being the highest point, leaving a huge empty space on the floor for her to be tortured while they hovered around her body.

"Let's try again, shall we?"

Peter dropped her arms and went to stand right beside his master's seat, opposite side to Nagini.

"I am not exactly patient, child." Voldemort started, the tip of his wand pointed right at her. "And you're not exactly giving us useful information. So if I were you I'd start talking. It wouldn't be the first time we'd torture someone until they can't move just to extract their memories, am I right?"

Just like brainless animals, the hord of wizards made laughing sounds the way they could.

"You don't even know the reason I'm here." The girl finally spoke, bringing silence to the room. "You just blindly trusted your followers that I have something important in me, but you don't have a fuck of a clue, do you? And I'm only assuming they can't explain it to you either."

"You are the sister of my greatest enemy, that is more than enough reason for me to keep you here."

"Your greatest enemy is a teenager with shitty eye sight? Man, I feel bad for you."

Her knees dropped to the floor as the sitting wizard whispered "crucio". Y/n threw her head back, gasping for air, refusing to give them the satisfaction of her screams. Bellatrix laughed uncontrollably as the girl struggled to not plant her face on the ground.

"Shut it, you insolent child." Voldemort ordered, not raising his voice. "I killed both of your parents already, and I will kill your brother, nothing is going to stop me from killing you when I think is convenient for me."

The Potter giggled like a child, hair falling in front of her face and air slowly going back to her lungs. That made the Lestrange stop her laughing and look at the girl as if she spat on her face.

"You are not going to kill me, Tom." Y/n could see a muscle twitch on Voldemort's face upon hearing that name, only expanding her smile. "I am important to you, you just don't know that yet."

"Nonsense you bitch." Busted Bellatrix, taking hard steps on her direction, wand ready, pointing at her. "The Dark Lord needs not a scavenger like you and-"

"Bella!" Was enough for the witch to stop on her tracks, a sour grimace spreading across her face as she slowly backed up next to her stop.

She's just like a puppy, a psychopath puppy, Y/n thought.

"And why are you important to me?" Voldemort asked, eyeing the girl still on the floor, slightly leaning on his seat.

"Because I am what you fear." The Potter smirked. "I can control who lives and who dies, I can reach into a dimension you're too afraid to discover, because you're frightened by death. You're frightened by me."

The Dark Lord stood up finally, raging fire behind his eyes looking down on her, and her shit eating grin on display only made things worse on his mind.

"Don't believe me?" She dared. "Choose anyone on this circle and I will kill them without using spells, and bring them back before you can say 'Crucio' again."

Suddenly, all the Death Eaters wanted to take a step back, noticing how their master was actually considering taking her word for what she could do.

Some, like Draco, did, ever so unnoticeable. Others, like Bellatrix and Yaxley, were skeptical of her possible power and stood still.

The young girl looked around, eyes scanning each one of them, landing specially on the brunette with hollow cheeks.

"Oh please, don't tell me Death Eaters are scared of death."

Infuriated, she stepped forward.

Bingo.

"I am not scared to die for the Dark Lord." Bellatrix announced, handing her sister the wand. "Do your worst."

"Oh I will." Y/n guaranteed as Voldemort took a few steps back, intrigued.

The girl reached her hand forward in the form of a claw right in front of the woman's face, in the best theatrical movement she could come up with. And with a twist of her wrist, Bellatrix Lestrange dropped to the floor without any second left, her body completely numb and frozen.

Gasps were heard all over the room, and Wormtail took three steps back. Narcisa, on the other hand, took three steps forward, squatting next to her sister. Turning her body to face up, silent whispers ran across the hall; Bellatrix's eyes were wide open, staring into nothing and not a single muscle twitched.

"She's dead."

In unison, all of the Death Eaters started taking steps back, it was magic without a wand and non verbal, without any weapons. Not a single person there had seen anything quite like it.

"Don't worry." Y/n intervened when Voldemort started gesticulating to Nagini. "I'll bring her back. That was the deal, right?"

Positioning both her forearms on each side of the woman's head, Y/n held her through the jaw and slightly opened her mouth. Getting their faces really close to each other, the Potter audibly inhaled through her mouth once, twice, thrice.

Bellatrix gasped.

Narcisa was quick to hold her in place as Y/n leaned back, smiling smugly as all the people surrounding them looked in shock. To them, the girl performed something close to a miracle right before their eyes.

Voldemort grasped his follower's face, squinting his eyes, looking for any sign that she might still be dead and it was all just a trick. But there was nothing

"I know you're probably wondering how." The girl spoke, smile not even looking like it would ever vanish from her face. "But I'm sorry. A magician never reveals his secrets."

As soon as the last word spilled from her mouth, the doors busted open, revealing a large Padfoot barking and growling next to an unconscious Dolohov, while dozens of dark figures ran around, assaulting the Death Eaters and knowcking them down.

Y/n sprinted as fast as she could, having a little help from something who just finished helping her with the theatrical demonstration. What no one had noticed, was one of the possessors Y/n owned, subtly placing himself as a dark cushion as she fell on the ground at the first Cruciatus. And with simple orders, he entered Bellatrix, killing her momentarily, just to get out moments later.

Running next to each other after being a menace, Sirius for sure missed that. He wasn't that young and prepared teenager anymore, but oh did he welcomed that adrenaline. Specially after hearing her laugh, he felt alive again.

Grabbing a piece of Padfoot's fur, they apparated far away from that horrid place.

Taglist: @intoanothermind @moonysupremacy01 @maraudersarelifee @elleraelockwood @darkenwolfie @hopesf @lukewearingbeanies @azuredgalaxies @klazina-couch-potato @goldensunshineshit @kaverichauhan @venomsvl @mrs-billyrussooo @mikadorbs @iavenderh6ze @wizardsgrace @reblog-princess @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @roroswitherose @s-we-e-t-t-ea @ok-boke @warcelia @danyxthirstae01 @b-tchymoon @lovely-maryj @the-sander-fander @regulusblackloverr @coffeeaddictednymph @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @teamspideyman @artemis-the-ace @theprettytragic @loidforgerishotashell @criminalyetminimal @amortyong @qualitywitchchaos @musicconversedance @xcharlottemikaelsonx @esposadomd @e1213 @certainyouthpeanut @voodoodol7760 @ireneop @lovermoment @avadakadabra93 @musicconversedance @wildtigerlili @csifandom @noah-uhhh-what

[froldgapp]

In your timlonnie future fic where Tim goes to jail, do you have any ideas/hcs on what the final straw was that led to Tim and Kon's falling out? Tim's still talking to Gar by the time the fic starts, but I'm honestly fascinated by all the bridges he managed to burn trying to take down the main villain

Weeee! I'm so delighted you asked this, because this is a part of the greater story I'm actually really clear on! This is very long! Oops!

For anyone who doesn't know my corporate mole!Tim story, here's the original post. The sequel, which ended up being a TimxLonnie story, is here.

"...all the bridges he managed to burn trying to take down the main villain." So, absolutely this. I can't see myself mustering the energy to write the "prequel" or "Book 1" (and what was actually the original idea), so I don't mind sharing the bones here :D

Tim, in his effort to become believably repulsive enough to gain greater access to the people and information he needs, alienates the wider population, including and especially the broader superhero community. The corporate cabal start to push the narrative to the wider population that it's superheroes' fault there's no money for healthcare, no resources for schools and roads and affordable housing–in fact, why are we even letting these monsters live amongst us? Who cares if they save a life here and there–they're not natural! (A big element of allegory to all of this, naturally. <glares at current state of the world>)

Tim, as a young shill trying to prove himself, is selected as the best-placed person to be the face of this campaign. Probably with no small amount of hubris too, he believes he has enough social capital in the hero community to do this... People trust him. People trust Dick (the only other person besides Bruce* in the know). So, he makes a decision to walk this line, always holding on to the belief that it's for the greater good and that when he succeeds, he'll make amends. And it's Tim, so we know that by the time he's in his late teens, he already has a record of breaking a few eggs to make an omelette.

But, people–his friends–are hurt. Confused. Some become angry. Older heroes feel the shadow of history rise up; it's not their first time seeing an idealist tip into fanaticism and villainy. There's a lot of pressure on Dick to run interference on Tim's behalf. This puts a strain on Tim's relationship with Dick. Dick begins to wonder... Do I know what Tim is doing? The deeper Tim goes though, the bigger the act. There are times of incredible pressure when Tim must convince even himself that he is this disgusting, craven, cruel person.

But at some point, the community have had enough. Ultimately, they have to safeguard their wellbeing, so, as per chapter 4, as Tim tells Lonnie:

"I didn’t expect to be taken off the board before I had a chance to tie it all up. But Dick had a tip-off that the League was going to make a move to neutralise me: take me off-world for a while, memory wipe, something..."

So when the plan works begins to turn to if. The walls close in. Tim's hand is forced and he makes the blunder that ultimately gets him shot. Entré Kon.

Kon, who was initially trusting of Tim, and even supportive of him; defending him to everybody who tried to cast aspersions on him. He approaches Tim at one point even, begging Tim to tell him it's all a ruse. But Tim... The lie is the most important thing to Tim at that point, so he pushes Kon away. The relationship fractures. Kon feels a fool. Had he not defended Tim all these months? Was Tim just using him to keep the other heroes at bay? Very likely at this point Tim tells him, "Yes, I was. You were always easy to manipulate." Inside, naturally, Tim's heart is breaking.

So at the climax of Book 1, Tim is shot, right as he's about to dispatch everything to, let's say Lane or Gordon. I don't think he'd be stupid enough to go to the cop cops. He is so close. He just needs to get to his computer.

Kon, who hasn't spoken to Tim for weeks since the whole ordeal deepened, hears Tim's distress and appears just in time to stop the head shot that would kill Tim.

He sees Tim; writhing in pain, expensive suit bloody, shoulder pouring blood, ear ruined... A mess. In that moment, Kon sees what he's seen a million times before: another "baddie" (imagine any 90s action movie), who's been hoisted by their own petard. You know those baddies? The guys who end up dying gruesomely rather than give up their goal? But Kon feels gross that he could even think such a thing! Nevertheless, Kon still has this ugly feeling of abjection that he'd never had before.

But then he sees Tim's face. Tim is marvelling at Kon. He looks happy. His eyes are feverish and alight. Kon thinks for a moment, "This is my Tim. I knew he was still there."

But Tim is thinking, "I can still make it! I can still make it happen! Kon is here and he will help me!"

So, Tim says, "Super[whatever his name is by then]," desperation and hope in his eyes.

And Kon... He buys it. He sees all that hope in those blue eyes and he thinks, "He's come back to us."

But then Tim says, "You have to get me to the computer... I have to finish this. I have to finish them..." Maybe he's struggling to breathe, maybe there's blood on his teeth. "Please, please, I have to..."

Kon's face falls. He reaches down and gathers an increasingly weak and delirious Tim up in his arms. Tim is desperate. He knows that if he misses this chance, it–and he–is done.

Kon says, "Please don't struggle, Mr Wayne."

And as Kon carries Tim through the window, he sees Tim's eyes are still fixed–not on him–but on the silently blinking computer.

(Incidentally, this is why Tim reacts so viciously to Lonnie calling him Mr Wayne.)

.*Bruce is a problem I still have to take care of. Maybe he's started meditation since retiring and just peaces out of the mad affairs of his kids/proteges haha. A problem to be fixed were I to start the fic.

Thanks so much for the ask! <3

Also a thanks goes to @who-always-pays-their-taxes who was such an awesome support and cheerleader and co-screamed with me when I first shared the Kon element of the story. <3

[america-oreosandkitkats]

played mouthwashing again. man. what a punch for a such a small little package.

with the second playthrough, because i wasn't as shocked by some of the twists and turns, i could focus more on what an absolute shitbag jimmy is.

literally a guy who makes everything about himself and his own small little world. if curly focuses on the big picture and anya on the details, then jimmy can't see beyond his square in the screen. in terms of writing and execution, i especially love the diatribe he goes on with anya about "all the stuff he has to do now that he's captain" and it's literally like five things and they're tasks that take at most five minutes to complete. haha. just like. "uwu i work so hard" "jimmy you didn't even do anything." sailormoonmaskedtuxedo.jpg

more thoughts under the cut.

i really, really love swansea's speech and the music that plays beneath it. i don't think the fandom talks enough about it. it's also really interesting to me that his main regret at the end of the road was that he couldn't save daisuke. not that he couldn't help anya. not do both, just that he couldn't save the kid.

i also wonder about the game's diegetic and non-diegetic elements. as i played through it, i'm convinced that anything in red, anything bookmarked with "take responsibility" is non-diegetic. which raises some really interesting thoughts for the game's end. maybe jimmy didn't even get curly into the cryopod. maybe they're all dead at the end, curly succumbing to his wounds and jimmy starving. ooh, it's a spicy take-a.

the burning bush/curly scene is, however, not a spicy take to say it's non-diegetic, but i still wonder what the game is trying to communicate here. i say burning bush because that's the imagery my mind goes to, but it doesn't.......fit? not really? that puts curly as the word of god and jimmy as moses, which uhh i don't think so. but what else could we be hearkening? speaking of religious imagery, the sacrificial lamb/eucharistic consumption of blood and flesh. very clear. but lol why?

i need to sit down and really think through the vintage cartoon clips shown throughout the game. first, in terms of what cartoons are selected and why, why those cartoons are juxtaposed against each other, and why they appear in the game when they do. i'm particularly struck by the "make mine freedom" clip's appearance. the cartoon is as far as i know about the empty promises of populism and the shady hucksters who pedal it. my first introduction to the cartoon was through this video by carlos maza on anti-politics. give it a watch! it's really good.

another thing that stands out is that first clip about working for a profitable company. one, because we don't know if pony express is even a profitable company lol. and two, because a lot of the privileges working class folks were offered when that cartoon was produced and released was undergirded by strong institutions, such as the unions and state taxes. it's also interesting that the accident that appears that ultimately hurts our pov character happens at home by a child. there's some irony here, some misdirection, but i need to sit with it more to uncover the reasons Why.

the mid-century aesthetics of the tulpar are endlessly fascinating to me. im also just a huge sucker for "new thing against old background" or, in this case, "old thing against new background." the mixing of generations is really neat to me. did anyone pick up that the wallpaper in the lounge is very The Shining-esque?

why wasn't anya on birth control? i don't mean this in a "why were you wearing that" kind of way. i mean, if you're going to be in the vast empty vacuum of space for upwards of a year, why would you want to deal with fertility? even in our very unsophisticated era of the 21st century, hormonal iuds are (relatively) easy to insert (vaginally or in the arm) and they last for years. a not insignificant number of women on hormonal iuds don't even get periods at all, or if they do, it's a lot less of a mess than it could be, but most importantly, you don't ovulate on them. the doyalist answer is "she needs to be fertile for the story to happen," but i'd really love to dig into a watsonian explanation. it lends itself to the mid-century aesthetic i think.

curly my man you are a terrible judge of character and you need better friends.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I'm thinking I'd really like to ask to get closer to finding out who's got a flashlight in Sunport...

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

Haha that won't be this chapter either sorry!

105 for 🧟:

---

“Cool,” Buck smiles. “You know, we’re sort of a team in Sunport. Family. Team. Whatever. It’s… I mean, you could have that again.”

“I already said I’d stay for a bit,” Eddie reminds him, good-naturedly. “You don’t have to convince me.”

“I’m just saying,” Buck shrugs. “Maybe you won’t want to leave.”

Buck doesn’t know why he’s hoping for this outcome, but he is. 

“You never considered sales before the end of the world, huh?” Eddie teases.

Buck chuckles. “Nah. I’m not good at being dishonest.”

Eddie smiles. “Good to know.”

It’s weird. Buck knows that Eddie is sort of on the precipice of freaking out. And that this has been a very rough few days for him. But still, Buck can’t help but feel a little thrill each time he manages to pull a smile or a joke out of him. Eddie has a lot on his mind. Bantering with Buck is the least of his priorities. And yet he’s still doing it, and Buck is fixated on getting him to continue. He’s not sure why. It just feels good. Good in a way Buck hasn’t felt in a while. 

Which is maybe ridiculous when he’s stranded in apocalyptic Los Angeles. He probably shouldn’t feel good at all. He should probably feel pretty bad. But as things calm down, and Eddie’s stress settles more into resignation, Buck ends up finding he’s sort of having fun. 

And maybe Eddie is, too? Because as time goes on, he starts returning Buck’s incessant chatter back full force. 

“Okay you can bring back any snack food you want or beer, but not both,” Buck posits as they pass over Sawtelle. “Go.”

“Go?” Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, like choose.”

“Oh, uh,” Eddie shrugs. “Beer.”

“Beer? That easy?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “There’s no snack food I need that badly. If I’m going to resurrect a food item, it’s my Abuela’s tamales. Nothing else comes close, so might as well choose beer.”

“Hmm,” Buck says. “Decisive.”

“You don’t approve?” Eddie’s smile is amused. 

“More like, I’m surprised,” Buck replies. “Don’t you ever get like a sudden and overwhelming need for sour candy/”

“Uh, no?” Eddie laughs. “That’s not an experience I can say I’ve had.”

“Maybe your palette is missing some sophistication, man.”

“See, now I think you’re just thinking about this wrong,” Eddie argues. “If you choose your sour candy, that’s it. Now, if you choose beer, you can have sour beers whenever you have that candy craving.”

“Mmm, that’s true,” Buck says. “I didn’t limit the beer options.”

“You did not,” Eddie confirms.

“So you found a loophole,” Buck says.

“Gotta think strategically.”

“Yeah, I’m seriously missing the mark on these hypotheticals,” Buck laughs.

“Clearly,” Eddie nods. “Okay, I got one for ya.”

“Shoot,” Buck says eagerly. 

“All inclusive vacation to some fancy resort,” Eddie says.

“Damn that sounds good,” Buck practically salivates.

“Or, a day in like a real, populated city,” Eddie says. “Sports. Concerts. A real restaurant. The whole nine yards.”

“Fuck, that’s hard,” Buck groans.

“I know, right?” 

“Which sports? Which bands?” Buck asks. 

“Nope, can’t say,” Eddie replies. “Not part of the question.”

“Fuck, how can I evaluate my options?” 

“Unfortunately, you cannot,” Eddie replies smugly. 

“Okay, shit. I’m going to pick the city.”

“Good choice,” Eddie nods. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I could sit around a pool for a week.”

“Mm, yeah, it’d get boring,” Buck concedes. “Okay, my turn again.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Okay, you get live sports again or streaming services,” Buck says. 

“Sports,” Eddie answers easily. 

“You answered that too quickly!” Buck protests. “You have to think about it!” 

“I don’t need to think about it. MMA or Grey’s Anatomy? Hmm, so hard.”

[jellyfishsthings]

Ok, first of all, I would like to apologise for not posting something for almost a month, bit it was exam season so... and I know I let you my fans down *que laughing bcuz it's not true*. Secondly, I would like to say that this is a bit different, it's not smut but I think it is quite funny and represents my character a little bit... also mean!Remus cuz he rules... so enjoy ig!!!

Part 2 , Part 3

I woke up, gasping for air, sweat making my shirt cling to my body like a second skin. I must look downright crazy, with flushed cheeks, hair a wild mess, and rubbing my thighs together without a stop. My mind drifted back to the dream that caused the state of my reaction.

His hands were roaming my body like I was the only thing he had ever wanted. And finally gripping my hips and making them move backwards until they hit his, and he was balls deep inside of me. Again. And again. And again.

The dream itself wasn't the problem. Sure, a sex dream wasn't that bad, and she had several over the years, but what she moaned and who was supposedly giving her all that pleasure was. Remus.

How? How had this happened to her? Not him. Not the one boy she never got along with. Not the one person who drove her up against the wall. Not the one that-

No, it actually made perfect sense. He was the only one who made her feel something. Sure, said "something" was regularly negative feelings. Like irritation, deep-rooted hate. But it certainly was more than anyone has ever made her feel. She looked at her alarm clock. And… great, only fifteen more minutes before it was time to get ready for breakfast. How was she supposed to pull herself together after that? It was going to be a long day.

She dressed in her uniform, only leaving her blue-silver striped tie, loosely knotted around her neck, her top two buttons open, exposing her collarbones. Her trousers, replacing the usual skirt, hugged her waist and hips nicely. Thank God, if there is one, but she had single-handedly managed to convince the professors in the monthly Perfects meeting, that the female population of this school, formal and fancy vocabulary had definitely been a strong part of her remarks, should be allowed to wear trousers whenever they wanted and felt like it.

She walked towards the Ravenclaw table and quickly filled her plate with pancakes doused in chocolate because well… who doesn't love chocolate? Her eyes roamed the blurry Dining Hall. Man, she really should start using her wire-framed glasses, the ones that were an identical pair to his. They had bought them so as to match when they were still friends. Before he ruined everything.

There he was. The beautiful, arrogant blurry bastard. She would recognise his curly hair and mischievous dark green eyes paired with his scarred face glory. Damn him and his annoying good looks. And when the hell did her eyesight get that bad? Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, which was again his fault. She could proudly say, though, that she was still squinting and glaring at the world as she always did. And everything was right. Until…

"My God, you are so tight. And so perfectly marked up. Everyone should know who you belong to, don't you think?" He said as his hand travelled upwards, one of her thighs. Moving easily as all her previous orgasms slid down her legs. All courtesy of his mouth, of course. "I love seeing you like this. I never thought that fucking your brains out until you are senseless would be such an easy way to shut you up."

… she remembered that and choked on her treacherous hot chocolate.

"Well, well, the she-devil just choked on her hot chocolate? Is it because your body detests anything sweet? " his voice called out. That deep, still slightly raspy and sleepy voice that made his Welsh accent stand out more prominently. She hated that voice, she thought, yet her body betrayed her and shivered, as if it was somehow remembering all that fantastic, imaginary, things it supposedly whispered in her skin.

Oohs and aahs echoed in the room, accompanied by chuckles and whispers, praising his "sick burn."

"You know what, Lupin? I always thought you were a pretentious piece of shit, but I never thought you were so self-centered to actually call yourself indirectly sweet. Is it one of those days of the month where you need a little confidence boost?", I called back as I finished eating and stood up from my seat.

A fuming Remus was the last thing I saw as I exited the room. Now, every member of the school faculty was laughing because of my comeback.

Lost in thought I walked towards the Ravenclaw Tower, and then felt an arm grasping my wrist and pining me into the wall, despite driving my elbow into said attacker in his nose, stomach (were those abs? Who was she kidding of course her attacker would have abs) and well … dick. But they didn't react at all as if those blows, who should have winded the air out of someone. Except- right lycanthropy super strength bullshit.

"You think that was funny?" He said in a deathly quiet tone, as if he wanted to murder me on the spot… or fuck me against the wall? Okay, now she was just self projecting.

"I think it was hilarious."

"Sometime you are going to learn to respect me, foxy?"

"Sure, when Hell freezes over."

"You know, you remind me of those foxes and black cats. They consider themselves so smart and mean, yet they are unaware of the danger they will face because of it. "

"And you are the danger? Climb off your high horse Lupin." I whisper in his face. Our lips only mere centimeters apart.

words: 900 (should I continue this?)

[firecrackerhh]

I sometimes wonder if the reason (if not at least one of many reasons) why antis are so against Hazbin Hotel as a show (besides the obvious anti viv bullshit) is because the very concept of redemption is anathema to them.

They do not believe people can change, and thus the entire premise of hazbin, (and frankly helluva too) is something they literally cannot understand. Refuse to understand at the least.

They don’t care about other people, they do not care if their actions in the name of their own twisted form of justice causes undue suffering, they simply want to be seen as a “good person” without putting in any actual effort to be good.

Sure, it’s easy to find a shitty person online and rake them over the coals for things they’ve said or done years ago. Effortless. But it takes real patience, compassion, perhaps slight firmness but certainly no undue cruelty to convince people they need to change, and even then, that’s a personal journey that others can at most try to influence, but they can’t make people change.

And even if the person they’re bitching about does, it’ll never be good enough.

There’s nothing Viv can do to change these peoples minds, nothing we can do. No matter how many apologies she gives they will never accept it. No matter what we say they will never accept that Viv is not fucking Satan incarnate.

Engaging with these people is a waste of time. Always has been. If Viv is so irredeemable to them, they likely look at us the same way.

I wonder what skeletons people like this must hide, anyone who acts holier than thou about being a “better” person while engaging in reprehensible behavior themselves is a rather irritating form of hypocrisy that boggles my mind.

I am no saint, god knows I’m no fucking saint, but I know what’s right and wrong and antis are wrong every. Single. Time. Any evidence they claim to have of Viv’s awful behavior is either nearly a decade old and thus clearly irrelevant given the people who vouch for her in the present, doctored discord messages (which even if they were real, shows no dates, so we have no idea how old those are to begin with) or the ‘evidence’ is so flimsy that if a lawyer looked at it he would say you’re wasting his time.

I think these people don’t like Viv’s shows because they are morally incompatible with it. They do not believe in redemption. They believe once you’ve fucked up in life, that’s it, no second chances.

I fear what they must think of our current prison population. I fear what they might say.

These people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

They dare to talk shit about the fandom, Viv, anyone else associated with the show, pretending that they’re saying what they’re saying in the name of justice, as if attacking people with their past when they have clearly changed and made apologies is in any way a justifiable thing to do.

They don’t have to like Viv, they really don’t, but calling her irredeemable, calling us irredeemable, is fucking bullshit.

None of us are irredeemable.

The fucking conceit. The fucking gall. The fucking balls on these people.

Everyone has the capacity to make good and bad choices in this life. Yes, many people don’t make the best choices, but that doesn’t mean that they should be stoned to death for the most minor of offenses. For shit that’s long been in the past and apologized for.

I’m not going to say I think very highly of humanity as a whole, I’m a fucking misanthrope through-and-through, but I don’t think we’re incapable of being good, or doing good things, we just…choose not to, a lot of the time.

I also do not deny that there are some crimes so horrible that redemption isn’t even on the table, nowhere near it. But I feel like antis treat every perceived fault of Viv as some most grievous sin that must be met with full penance by…doing what exactly?

Apologize? Again, they won’t accept it.

Donate to charities or causes? She gets shit on for it, say she’s “flaunting her wealth.”

Get off the internet entirely? In an anti’s wet dreams maybe.

Her very existence makes them so mad. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.

These people twist her words in every way imaginable to make her look like some horrible person undeserving of her success, without realizing they make themselves look far worse than her by several measures.

They claim she’s racist and queerphobic, but if anything acting as if BIPOC and queer people shouldn’t ever be shown doing awful things because “bad queer/ BIPOC rep” or whatever I think is just as racist and queerphobic. Minorities are human beings, and as such they are just as capable of being shitty. I already made a post about this before, so I’ll keep this paragraph short.

They claim she’s abusive to her coworkers when it seems the one person bitching about it has no problem putting other past co workers under the bus for their personal gain. Antis claim she’s abusive while engaging in downright emotionally abusive behavior (I know that sounds kinda dramatic but I’m making a point) themselves as they shit on us for the stupidest reason imaginable: liking a cartoon.

They cry about ableism while ignoring their own.

Not that I’m all that offended if I’m honest, it’s just more evidence that antis aren’t any better than the people they bitch about.

I could go on about this for a while but you get the point.

I repeat, these people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

Frankly, as much as it bothers me that they leak patreon shit and whatnot, many fans are actively warning against them, and I think the idea of someone actively choosing to give money to someone they hate just so they have more content to shit on is fucking pathetic and getting upset about it is exactly what they want.

They want you to be just as miserable as they are. They just want to suck all the fun out of this fandom, I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, these people are tar pits, trying to drown us in their muck. It’s pathetic and sad. No use in having sympathy, they don’t deserve any.

It’s funny how antis scream and cry about how awful we are as they ignore their own sins and mistakes, hypocrites.

If anything, their behavior is far more irredeemable than Viv’s has ever been.

I wonder when they will realize that, if they ever do. I can only hope some of them grow the fuck up and realize what the fuck they’ve done. If the ensuing guilt eats them alive, I can’t say I have pity for them.

Wonder how many of us would accept their apologies, if they chose to make one.

Alright it’s almost 7 am I gotta get to bed. Peace.

🔥🧨~Firecracker out~🧨🔥

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hey Petri, I want to request a Pope Hayward x fem! Kook reader where they are at a party and he has a crush on her and the pogues give him advice on how to flirt with her, and he kinda of embarrassed himself, and reader is having the time of her life watching it, and then he just gives up and goes back to his nerdy self and she loves it cause she's secretly a nerd and has a thing for him too ( hope you get it <3 )

Wooooo as much as I love TMR I do enjoy the odd request I get for other fandoms.

Also Pope is severely underrated.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS COUNT

MASTERLIST | POPE MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Does not follow the plot at all.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, Pope being an awkward dork, that's it.

The Pogues going to a Kook party was pretty much unheard of. But, with Sarah Cameron in the group now- she occasionally missed the high-end life of Figure 8.

So, she'd finally convinced the Pogues to come to a small event on her side of the island. Well, it was originally meant to be a small event, but now half of Kildare has shown up.

"Ew, look at all these plastic cups," Kie says as the Pogues walk through the front garden to the party; fashionably late, as always. "Do people know it's actually possible to have a good time without single use plastics? God."

"What?" JJ sneers. "You're telling me you don't like a good ol' fashioned classic red party cup? It's a staple of American culture."

"It's bad for the environment."

"So?"

So? Are you-?"

"Guys!" John B cuts off their bickering. "Can we have one night, please?"

"One night what?" JJ pushes.

"One night without this shit- we're here to have a good time, okay?"

"Okay."

"You got it, JB," JJ gives him a playful salute, making Pope and John B exchange glances.

"Why did we think the was a good idea?" Pope grumbles.

"Because, it's good to expand your social circle." John B says.

"We're only here because you can't say no to your girlfriend."

"Hey! That's not true."

Pope blankly looks at him as they reach the door. "What? It's not! Besides, this is a good time for you to get some action."

"What?" Pope follows John B into the house (basically a mansion), as Kie and JJ still bickering behind them despite their alleged compliance.

"Yanno, pull? You've been thrusting over Kie for so long it's getting embarrassing."

"Hey! You weren't much better before Sarah came along."

"John B!" Sarah squeals over the loud music, rushing over and throwing her arms around him. "I'm so glad you guys actually came!" She also hugs Kie. "Come on! Let's get you guys a drink."

The Pogues awkwardly venture through the house, earning dirty looks from the Kooks that populate the area.

There are a couple of girls who keep giggling and looking at JJ and John B as they stand in the kitchen.

Pope hates it.

He hates how easy it is for them to get attention. People want them all the time- they're rebellious, attractive and they're players. Well, JJ is.

He isn't like them. He works hard, likes school and obsessed over his future. He desperately wants to live in the moment, but he just can't bring himself to.

He's just not that type of person.

"Yo," JJ nudges him, passing him a spliff as he sits on the counter top, which Pope waves away.

"I'm good- gotta study tomorrow. Keeping the-"

"Yeah, yeah, gotta keep the signal clear, we know." JJ huffs. "You gotta loosen up, man, how you gonna get a girlfriend if you're so uptight?"

"What's up with you guys, tonight? What's this shit about girls all of a sudden?"

"It's always about girls... or money," JJ shrugs. "Sex and riches- that's what life's all about."

"That's a depressing way to think."

"Well, I'm not wrong, am I?"

Pope sighs. He doesn't know why he agreed to this. It's not like he's a party person, he only does it for his friends. He doesn't like drugs, or drinking or hook up culture.

He's completely out of place here.

And that's when he saw you.

"Oh, shit," you chuckle as you bump shoulders with someone leaving the kitchen. You put your hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, man, that's my bad."

The boy grins at you before slipping away. Your friend stands behind you, pushing in front and grabbing you towards the counter and immediately filling the cups with several different types of alcohol.

"Come on," your friend drags out her words, "you gotta drink with me!" She tries to force a cup into your hand, which you swerve.

"If I get hammered, who's gonna look after your dumbass and convince your Dad you're sober?" She rolls her eyes, going back to making her potion.

Pope's been looking at you since you walked in. You're the most gorgeous girl he thinks he's ever seen. He can't help but stare.

Something that JJ and John B notice.

John B nudges Pope, making him look at him as he wiggles his eyebrows. Pope shoves him and JJ bursts into laughter.

"Dude, you're totally makin' eyes at the Kook chick," JJ cackles.

"Shut up, bro!" Pope whisper-yells because you're only a few feet away and he's hoping the music keeping him covered.

"Which girl?" Kie pipes up.

"That one," JJ points at you.

"Oh my God," Kie laughs, as she finally notices you, "(Y/N)?"

Your name sparks your attention, a grin spreading across your face. "Kie? Holy shit!"

The girl comes over to you and you throw your arms around her. "I was so sad to hear you moved schools- I tried calling you."

She breaks away from the hug. "Yeah, I know, sorry; I changed my number after everything happened at the Kook Academy."

"I don't blame you," you sigh. "I'm sorry about all that shit, Kie, I tried to stop it."

"I know- it's not your fault. And it all worked out," she points at Sarah, who is whispering something to John B as he has his hand on her waist. "We're cool now."

"Huh, I woulda lost a lot of money on that bet," you smile at her.

"You, uh, you spoken to Rafe recently?"

"Nah, fuck that- fell out with Topper and Kelce too when they started being dicks to you. Don't need that kinda shit in my life."

"(Y/N), come on!" Your friend pulls on your arm. "I wanna dance!"

"Sorry, gotta go, I'll catch you later though, yeah?"

"Yeah, see ya around."

You vanish out of the kitchen being dragged away by your companion into the living room.

"Y-you know her?" Pope asks Kie, standing up straight.

"Yeah, (Y/N) was, like, the only decent person at the Kook Academy."

"Why didn't you tell us you were buddies with a total smoke-show?"

"Shut up, JJ," Kie and Pope say in unison.

"I can introduce you? If you want?" Kie smirks and Pope hesitates.

"No, it's fine, she's out of my league, so..."

"Pope, come on," JJ jumps off the counter, throwing his arm over his shoulder. "This is your chance."

"I said no, it's fine."

"C'mon, JJ's right; just talk to her. Let me introduce you guys." Kie smiles, nudging him slightly as JJ shakes him.

Pope groans. "Okay, okay- fine."

Kie grabs his hand, yanking him out of the kitchen and into the living room. You're standing casually, leaning on the fire place, checking your phone as your friend dances with some guy.

"How do I talk to her?" Pope stops Kie, making JJ nearly walk straight into his back.

"Just be cool," JJ shrugs.

"What does that even mean?"

"Just, yanno, don't be like you. Talk about all the shit do- pot, stealing, parties and shit."

"But I don't do that."

"You do now- you ain't gonna pull anyone with your corpse facts."

"J," Kie pushes him before turning to Pope, "just talk to her how you talk to us. It's easy. Come on."

She pushes through a few people, reaching you.

"Hey."

You look up, smiling at her. "Hey, Kie."

"This is Pope," she vaguely gestures towards him, "he's a friend from the Cut."

"Oh, this one of those Pogue boys you're always hanging out with?"

"Yeah, he's cool though. Ain't ya, Pope?"

"Uh, y-yeah, I'm uh," he clears his throat, "cool."

You raise your eyebrow slightly, giving a slow nod. "Cool."

There's a short thirty seconds of silence, and you unsure what you're supposed to do.

"I'm gonna go find Sarah," Kie smiles at Pope but he is visibly stressed. She disappears into the crowd, leaving the pair of you. Pope awkwardly rocks on his heels.

"So," you decide to take the lead, "what's life like on the Cut? Gotta be more fun than being trapped in the ivy tower."

"Yeah, it's great fun. We go out and get high and steal uh... stuff. Yanno, just for fun."

"... yeah, sounds like great fun."

Okay, this is weird.

Pope is cute. He doesn't look like the typical douchbag you're used to and it's kind of obvious he doesn't know what he talking about.

"I think I recognise you," you say, sparking his attention.

"You do?"

"Yeah, you help out at Midsummers, right? With your Dad? Heyward, right?" Pope's face drops, there goes his cool facade.

"Uh, yeah, I give my old man a hand from time to time- but I'm normally busy, yanno?"

"What? Doing drugs and committing crimes?" He blinks at you. "Your old man's a legend; it's nice to see actually hard-working people come out of this island instead of just junkie slackers and rich elitists. You should look up to him."

"...You think my Dad's cool?"

"Yeah, he seems like a good guy. Though, I figured causing problems and pissing people off was more Maybank style."

He smiles at you. "Yeah, JJ's not a great influence." You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart skip a beat. "Sorry," he sighs. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Do you wanna try again?"

"What?"

You hold your arm out for him to shake. "Hi, I'm (Y/N). What's your name?"

He grins, shaking your hand. "Pope. It's nice to meet you."

"Pope, huh? I like that name. So, Pope, what do you like to do?"

"Well, I uh..." He hesitates. Lying clearly isn't working. "I'm working towards a scholarship at school."

"Oh, yeah? What in?"

"Foresics."

"Oh, that's cool, you reckon you're gonna get it?"

"I mean, I hope so. It'd be an amazing opportunity."

"I'm sure you will."

You and Pope continue talking, and he seems to loosen up a bit. He tells you all about his studies and working for his Dad, and you tell him about your school life and what it's like living on Figure 8.

It's actually kind of nice.

Until JJ and John B get into a fight with a couple of Kooks, which requires the whole group of Pogues to flee.

"Pope!" JJ grabs his friend. "We gotta go."

"Wha- J-?"

"Gotta go, gotta go now!"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Someone shouts in the depths of the house.

"Shit, what'd you do?"

"Just- come on!" He practically yanks Pope away, forcing him to leave.

You sigh, noticing a pen and a pad left on the fireplace.

"Okay, I think we lost them."

"Dude," Pope shoves JJ once they're outside. "I was getting somewhere! She actually likes me!"

"My advice worked then, eh? Told ya it would."

"No; your advice was shit- she wanted to talk about my scholarship."

The Pogues hesitate.

"Are you serious?" John B asks.

"Pope!" You skip down the steps into the front garden, jogging up to him.

"Hey," he says, stunned that you actually came after him.

"Here," you hand him a piece of paper, "my number- if you wanna talk some time?"

He looks at the paper, then you, then the paper.

"Dude," JJ says, snapping him back to reality.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, that's great," he takes the paper putting in his pocket.

"You guys better split- Topper's just called Rafe and he's pissed."

"Shit," John B mumbles, "Yeah, we gotta go."

"Oh, wait," you stand up straight, stepping towards Pope and kissing him on the cheek, leaving him stunned. "For good luck- with your scholarship."

His scoffs, words unable to form as Topper and Kelce burst through the door.

"Shit!" John B shouts.

"Go! Go!" JJ's hands hit the floor as he scrambles away with Pope struggling to get his feet under him.

You can't help but chuckle under your breath as Kie, Pope, John B and JJ make a mad dash for it as Topper and Kelce book it after them.

"Pogues, eh?" You turn to see Sarah standing on the doorstep. "There's something about them, don't ya think?"

You smile, looking back into the darkness, hearing faint hollars and insults being thrown by the group.

Woo an OBX fic. Not my usual work but definitely still fun to write.

"Yeah, there is."

I hope you enjoyed :))

[talkingattumble]

okay deltarune opinion incoming so spoilers and all that

Okay here’s like my take on the secret bosses so far. Fair warning this isn’t structured at all, I just kinda leap from subject to subject and this entire thing is just ramblings so don’t expect some well thought out and presented theory it is just my thoughts, and some messy theories. SORRY IN ADVANCE FIR THE LONG POST like seriously this post is just a bunch of enormous paragraphs about my extra shaky barely supported deltarune theories so be warned

First of all, jevil is pretty widely assumed to be the joker card in a deck of cards. Mostly from the fact that he was the jester in a card based dark world and that he is wearing a joker outfit. Also, his signature line is “I can do anything”, which is kind of a reference to the fact that a joker card can do anything in most card games. Anyways, so I saw this theory in a video about the bosses being tossed aside or ignored things. And I was agreeing with it, but then I thought about jebil. Why would a joker card be tossed aside? Okay well in my experience. The joker card is usually super op in most card games. For example, in war, most of the time the joker is regarded as being able to beat any card (in some cases only an ace can beat it, but I’m not sure how common that rule is or if it has any significance to the interpretation). For this reason, it’s usually not included to make the game more fair, as most of the time anyone who ends up with a joker card gets a huge advantage. So a lot of the time people end up playing without a joker and forgetting about it. And his whole backstory? I think that jevil believing that his life is a game is another reason he’s always saying “I can do anything”. The world he lives in is populated by (mostly) a suit of cards. And once he realized he was the joker, he kinda realized how powerful he was compared to everyone else. He could literally do anything they could. So yeah that’s my take. Very badly structured and probably obvious, but I’d rather make a post than spam my friends about it.

Spamton is kinda more easy because of the sheer amount of characters who are able to add details and perspectives to his story. But I’m still gonna take a crack at it. Right off the bat, it becomes obvious that spamton is a spam ad. His disjointed speech that’s often interrupted with words or phrases you often see in spam, the fact that he pops out and starts forcing us to make a deal (in contrast to the other ads who you could choose to interact with), the rip off items in his shop, and his literal name. I think this is also what the addisons meant when they said “he was just unlucky”. Unlike the other ads, spamton was kind of doomed from the start. No matter how hard he works, nobody will buy his products because he’s a spam ad, and basically Nobody ever clicks on spam ads. The rest of his story is mostly outright told to us. He gets famous from a man named Mike, gets so popular he gets into the queens castle, the addisons leave him out of jealousy, Mike stops helping him, he goes a bit insane and starts worshipping a broken down machine, he gets evicted, and eventually we come along and help him (to sum it up). I also have a theory that he might’ve falllen into the acid pool at some point, but it’s not well supported. My only evidence really is that he’s very tiny and the dialogue in his shop where he randomly starts screaming in pain and saying how “it burns”. Not really important but I couldn’t fit it in anywhere else. Ok moving on. So even though we’ve basicslly got spamtons backstory down, there’s still something we’re all in the dark about: Mike, the man in the tv. So it’s kind of widely accepted at this point that mike is the grinning tv seen at the end of chapter two, and that’s what I’m basing my theory on. So why would the tv guy help spamton? Okay so here’s my thoughts. One thing that has been a regular thing on tv for a while is dumb commercials that try to convince people to buy useless things. I feel like Most people usually don’t pay attention to that kind of stuff. But I will say, even though I have no evidence to support this, based on my experiences and the people around me, commercials work much better than spam ads, even if they’re essentially the same thing. My thoughts on why: spam ads are something st the edge of the screen that you can ignore or usually close. And when they take the form of messages or emails, they’re usually sent straight to the junk or spam sections, meaning there’s a huge chance they won’t even be seen. But on tv, most of these spam advert style commercials are on live channels, meaning they can’t be skipped. Meaning that more people see them and are tempted to buy the things in them. So if spamtons ads were out in commercial form, it would make sense for him to suddenly get a boost in popularity. But this could also explain why Mike stops helping him. Eventually, due to changes in the way tv works, these dumb spam ad type adverts became less effective and only caused people to be more annoyed with live tv/switch to other methods of watching movies. So it would make sense for Mike to drop spamtons commercials as soon as they started causing viewers to drop. My last piece of evidence to support this would be, how one addison specifically calls attention to the noise that is heard when you try to call someone in the dark world. It’s described as garage noise, but what you hear is a messed up kind of staticky noise. Spamton also has static in his eyes when he mentioned Mike.

Oh yeah, here’s another thing. Something I don’t see many people talk about it the moment in his shop where his eyes go dark and he says “hello….can anyone hear me…..” or smth like that, and then says that he didn’t hear anything but he thinks it’s probably for us?? I’ve got a few theories. It could be his connection with Mike (again, note that he has dark static eyes when he says this). “It’s for you” is a phrase commonly used when you get a phone call for someone else, and in this theory we can surmise that Mike was the one calling spamton. So maybe it’s a hint about us facing Mike next chapter? I have some other guesses but no actual evidence to support them so I’ll leave those out for brevity (I say that as if this post isn’t a gajillion paragraphs long already lmao)

Ok last thing: this is pretty irrelevant to the bosses but it technically counts. So a lot of others have already drawn the obvious connection between spamton neo and mettaton neo. But why is mettatons robot body rusting away at the bottom of queens castle? Here’s my theory. So mettaton, at the moment, seems to not have transitioned by this point (wether you view his transition in undertale as being a trans thing or just being a ghost inhabiting a body it likes thing, the word still applies either way so it’s what I’ll use). He refuses to show his face, and is a lot more negative, angrily answering to you and immediately assuming you want to see napstablook instead. Another thing to note is that he calls himself a nobody, and no one in the town seems to mention him. So given all that it’s safe to assume he’s still a ghost with no body. But what does that have to with his neo form in the cyber world? Well my thought is that mettaton designed what his dream form would look like using the computer, but then for some reason (sadness, shame, despair, whatever you want to interpret it as) he tried to delete the file or buried it deep. As the queens castle in general reminds me of a search engine (the rooms based on the characters searches, the butlers giving people the things they ask for or like, the bookshelves, queen herself being concerned with noelles searches, etc.), it’s possible he might have even bookmarked a tab with his design and then forgot about it/didn’t want to revisit it, and the bookmark got buried under the searches and bookmarks of others. Whichever makes more sense idk it’s late. Anyways. So if mettaton is at the point where he wants fame, knows that he wants a different body, and has long had a design, why is he still a ghost who hides away? Well the sad truth is (in my opinion), he’s got no way to make the body. Undertale was a much more fantastical world, full of magic and crazy inventions and things that would be otherwise impossible. Deltarune is a much more grounded world. It contains monsters, but there’s seemingly no magic, no crazy inventions, ordinary shops and buildings. While a “magic portal to a dark town” would be commonplace in the world of undertale, this same thing is laughed at and not believed in the world of deltarune. So, chances are it would be way harder to build a robot as complicated as mettaton neo. Especially because it seems that deltarune takes place in the 2000a or 2010s (based on the computers they use, the chalkboard in the classroom, the clothes the characters wear, and also undertale took on as in 201X so I’d this truly is a parallel world then it likely also takes place at that time). Also, in this universe, alphys is a schoolteacher. There’s no such occupation as “royal scientist/inventor”. So there’s nobody to build the body anyways. In a nutshell: mettaton designs his perfect body, forgets about it or buries it deep due to negative feelings about not being able to achieve this, and he never transitions, meanwhile the powerful design he made stays in the computer, old and buried deep underneath all the newer searches and files.

But why would spamton worship this machine in particular? Well the first theory is that the machine is very old. Mettaton is obviously older than Kris (he was much older than frisk and doesn’t go to school with Kris). So it would make sense that by the time Kris gets to the cyber world, mettatons design file is considered very very old to the cyber people. Maybe file she has something to do with power, or maybe spamton assumed it was an ancient relic because of its rusty and decrepit look. I’d guess the second because I think one of the swatchlings has dislogue mentioning that spamton would pray to the machine, and that swatch refers to it as a relic. My second theory is that spamton thought that if he could transfer his consciousness to any other body, his strong would be cut, no matter what form it is. And the only available empty body in the castle was the machine in the basement, so he placed all his bets on that.

And finally my third theory (least likely to be true, I believe the answer is a mix of one and two, but this is my personal favorite) is that mettatons body design was made with freedom in mind. This is something they might have sensed and started worshipping the machine for. After all, for mettaton, that body meant being free to be himself, to express himself, to be who he really is. If queen can sense emotion through searches (she called noelles searches strange and sad and is protective of her due to this), who’s to say spamton can’t? Spamton also mentions the smell of freedom a lot, so it’s possible freedom is smth he can just sense.

WOW THAT WAS A LOT. Alright that should satisfy my “must talk about deltarune to everyone and anyone” urge for the week. A lot of this is super shaky, and a lot of it probably has canon answers I just forgot about. But whatever, I mostly just wanted to ramble about deltarune, no structure just word vomit (plus it’s like super late so I’m kinda tired). Also I’m sorry this post is so spamton centric, I know I said I’d talk about both bosses but jebil really got less words than mettaton of all character lmao. I do live jevil and have a whole other load of opinions and theories about jebil, but it’s late and that writing all that here would only make this essay of a post longer. Also there’s way more information available about spamton (two routes worth of content, lore dumps by almost every character in queens castle and even some outside of the castle like the sweet capn cakes or the addisons, the secrets in the spamtons sweepstakes arg stuff, and you can actually talk to him instead of just fighting him) which makes him easier to talk about.

ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONGPODT GOODNIGHT AND CONFRATS ON ACTUALLY READING TJIS HIGE POST