#amalgamate variant

[prophet-of-conquest]

⌠ Synopsis ⌡

The Tunn-Bri’Kahl Trials refers to a Yorēllian Biowarfare Project against the Gāllera Front and its underwater people, as per the orders of the current Empress of the Yorēllian Empire and her Imperial Council, to condemn the Ceyarphosian peoples to a fate that is worse than death itself.

Located deep underground within the Yorēllian Medical Institution for the Criminally Insane, within the Sciences District of the Yorēllian Empire, are where these trials take place— its test subjects; unwilling and absconded from their homes; all Ceyarphosians of different subspecies, forced to rot far from the ocean and shores they were born…

The Tunn-Bri’Kahl Trials are, in a basis, very similar to Yorēllian Re-Education practices— taking what is unfit for society and rearranging it into something more conformed, removing the unwanted to keep the perfections. Ceyarphosians, under the eyes of the Yorēllian Empress, are everything that is against the perfection she desires, and thus, the Ceyarphosian species must be fixed or destroyed.The Tunn-Bri’Kahl Trials are overseen by Lady Mah-Re of House Cas-Tehn’Edah, Overseer of Technological Policies, Head of Biowarfare Research, Head of Education, and ‘The Doctor’.

⌠ Strains of the Tunn-Bri'Kahl Trials⌡

primogenitor variant | striker variant | pauvner variant |

amalgamate variant | qaloxide variant | renkhall variant |

solamoine variant | iedrimes variant | osyalhse variant |

[meirimerens]

do you have a reasoning behind Murky = bird or is it just for fun and/or vibes? :0

needed a second to understand what you were asking I think it's about my last poast IT'S NOT MURKY‼️ it's teensy pathologic as written in the tags my beloved

two ✌️ different brown-eyed brunettes (that + Murky is not part of the Soul-and-Halves she does her own thang so I wouldn't draw her for a Soul-and-Halves portraits compilation)

[zerosocialskillz]

A few days ago, I found a set of videos that are basically creating a version of UNO with as many variants as one could possibly shove into a single card game

It’s fucking insane let me tell ya.

[azurecanary]

Starting to feel like Bobbi Morse is a Marvel amalgamation of Black Canary, Helena Bertinelli and Barbara Gordon

[cube-cumb3r]

ive watched a zillion EVERY UNDERTALE LEITMOTIF EVER videos over the years but something ive seen very rarely or maybe never is anyone point out that "amalgam" is an extremely abstracted variant of "enemy approaching".

this is very hard to prove because i don't have any borrowed leitmotif or anything to point to, it doesn't really borrow any melody, chords or even exact rhythm from enemy approaching, it's just similar in... concept. the rhythm of the melody in enemy approaching is these syncopated singular "hits", offset by an 8th note from the main beat. the rhythm of amalgam is... similar where the "melody" is also syncopated "hits", but the offset varies and feels irregular.

it just kind of Evokes enemy approaching, it's like... well if the song "enemy approaching" itself was slowly losing its grip on its own identity

[soul-collectors]

SOUL Collectors 101 - #1 : Anomaly SOULs

Presented by Edu! a Science!Sans variant specializing in studying these anomalies!

(next lesson)

-What are Anomaly SOULs?

Put it simply; They’re SOULs affected by a timeline glitch that gives the concealed human SOULs shape and matter, virtually reviving them!

it usually happens after an “ending” has registered into the timeline Where the SOULs are supposed to just- disappear.

Every time the file save of that timeline is loaded or reset without properly handling the Anomaly SOULs, they’re reformed.

-Stages of reformation

Beginning with a simplified Vistage, they eventually develop to a more accurate shape of the departed human, even recovering their memories at a certain point- until uhm...I haven’t gotten enough data to know haha..!

Their memories may develop in different ways with each reset! Some might only remember their fall and some might recall everything to their last breath..oof...

Anomaly Souls cannot be absorbed nor shattered! They simply “refuse” to. Literally.

Only SOUL Collectors can properly contain Anomaly SOULs. Other methods have been used, but they usually yield less favorable results. We’re still discovering more about them, though!

If a SOUL Collector frees an Anomaly SOUL after containing them, it usually takes from a few hours to days or even weeks for their Vistage to reform depending on what phase they were collected in.

-How do you tell the difference?

You can’t- at least not your normal, everyday person. By themself, SOUL Anomalies look almost indistinguishable from a normal SOUL. You won’t know unless you try shattering or absorbing it-!

Some Monsters and humans from other universes have trained themselves to tell the difference! And some are just “born” to it- like SOUL Collectors-!

-Are they dangerous?

ehhh…Not really- I mean Yes!! *some* are! But for the first few phases that ARE harmless, down the line, they may pose a threat to the timeline and its inhabitants, especially if agitated…

-Monsters affected by Anomaly SOULs.

If an Anomaly SOUL attacks and kills a monster and the save file is loaded/reset, the Monster will return somewhat physically similar to an amalgamate.

Their SOUL reforms their body in the same way as a SOUL Anomaly’s “but it refused” mentality.

Except- unlike a human’s, the Monster’s SOUL isn’t capable of properly reforming itself…thus they come out...misshapen.

I haven’t seen many cases, thankfully. But, from the data I collected from SOUL collectors themselves; this is one of the main reasons they collect anomaly SOULs: to protect the inhabitants of timelines and the multiverse from collapsing into itself in chaos.

That's probably the gist of it- We're still researching Anomaly SOULs especially Whenever Soul visits this timeline-

.

[This is just the basic info about Anomaly SOULs, More information and examples will be posted throughout the account/story!]

[clairewritesfanfics]

! I read your alphabet fluff and it was amazing ! I’m wondering if maybe you could do one for no glasses Mark or viltrumite if you have time I don't know why but I feel like these two want kids.

Author’s note: The alphabet here is an amalgamation of fluff templates from the following writers: @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @snk-warrior, @queervibesmydude and @imagineimagineimagine, and my own personal additions.

Adoration: What does he can’t help but gush about you? 

Everything.

Baby: Does he want a family? 

He doesn’t want a family, he wants something that can bind you to his side. Whether you adopt, have a surrogate or get impregnated, that thing will etch his memory deeper into your heart. He doesn’t want to share your affections though. In his eyes, the only thing better than a kid is a dead kid. 

Comfort: How does he help you when you’re down or stressed?

Cuddles and kisses! He is the most handsy variant. He will shower your face with kisses, nudge you with his head, bury his face in your neck and stick his arms to you.

Dates: What are his ideal dates?

He likes being outside and active: picnics in the park where he can make out with you on a blanket, beach days where he can see you in a swimsuit and make out with you in the water, hiking in nature where he pretends to chase you and then make out with you against a tree, etc.

Everything: You are his __________.

You are his sun, his gravity. 

Fight: How often do you argue? How does he handle the fight itself and its aftermath?

Fights with him feel more like foreplay than arguments. Any real disagreements are too rare to even remember.

Gifts: Does he spoil you?

Hell yeah. Whatever money he has, he uses on you and any spare change is for making himself more attractive to you.

Honesty: Does he keep a lot of secrets from you? Are they white lies or hide world-shattering truths?

He can’t lie to you, but that doesn't mean he can’t omit parts of the truth.

Injury: What’s his reaction when he finds you physically hurt?

That perpetual smile vanishes, replaced with a haunting stare. He forgets about checking up on you and loses himself in his revenge. 

Jealousy: Is he a green-eyed monster?

Yup. Actually, physically, loudly groans and whines when you pay attention to someone else for too long. He starts grabbing you all over until you yell at him to stop. Doesn’t matter if you’re mad as long as you’re focused on him.

Kiss: Describe the way he kisses you.

He kisses you eagerly, giving everything and touching you everywhere, as though hoping he’d become a part of you.

Longing: Who fell first? How did you two get together?

He did. He seems derpy, but Mark’s manipulative; he knows that rushing into things will only scare away a romantic partner. So he teases you and hits on you, but backs off when he thinks you’re beginning to feel uncomfortable. He’s also willing to get rid of any competition (in secret, naturally).

Marriage: Does he want to be your husband?

Yes, yes, yes! He has the perfect ring, too. It’s exactly your style. 

Nightmare: What is his greatest fear?

Your indifference. He prefers your affection, but he will take even your hatred as long as your eyes are on him.

Orange: What color reminds him of you?

Gold. Like the radiant sun that he evolves around. 

PDA: Yes or no? If yes, to what degree?

Do you think dogs care about who is looking when they start jumping on their owners? He’ll stop if you tell him but if you’re fine with having an audience then so is he.

Quaint: What is his favourite non-modern thing?

Love letters. We’re talking scented paper in fancy envelopes. You’re flattered and supportive, however…Mark’s good in many things, but writing poems is not one of them. He’s sincere though so you can’t ever laugh at or criticize his work.

Rhythm: What’s his favorite song or genre of music?

He likes what you like. No, really. His interests before are meaningless to him now. He has restructured his life to fit perfectly with yours, and that includes music taste. 

Spa: What helps him relax?

Something as small as your shoulders touching while you two lie on bed doing your own things (well, you’re doing something; he’s admiring the view) calms him down.

Tea: What do you two often converse about? 

He will like what you like, watch what you watch and read what you read, everything to be your soulmate and be able to understand everything you say. However, he gets lost in your voice. Sometimes–most of the time–he doesn’t even talk. He would rather listen to you. You could be talking about a murder that happened next door and he, in a daze, will smile and say, “That’s nice.”

Understanding: How well does he know you?

He knows your habits and routine, though he’s still prone to being insensitive to any changes to such behaviors.

Value: How important is the relationship to him?

You are literally the only reason he hasn’t become a full-blown supervillain.

Wild Card: Random fluff headcanon

He sticks post-it notes everywhere in the house. Jokes (what’s a pirate’s favorite amino acid? Aaaaaaarrrrginine), reminders (drink your water >:( on the pitcher), corny pick-up lines (Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?) or something sweet and simple like I love you, because he feels like he can never say it enough.

XOXO: How affectionate is he?

He is a dog in a Viltrumite body. Hands down, the most physically and verbally affectionate Mark. He likes leaning against you, holding your hands, kissing you and hugging you.

Yearning: How does he cope when you two are apart?

The longest minute is the last sixty seconds when he’s waiting for you. There is no coping.

Zebra: If he wanted a pet, what would he get?

Does he want pets? NO. It’s bad enough that he has to share you with other people. There is no way in Hell he’s splitting your affection with an even lower life form. You want a dog? He’ll bark and kneel and fetch, whatever you want. Here’s his neck, he even bought a fancy pink collar. Please put it on him. 

Disclaimer: The images above are not mine but are screenshots from the Invincible TV series.

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[osleeplessflowero]

Oneshot Masterpost

A collection of my oneshots! Series gradually being updated. These links are specific to Tumblr, BUT I have also posted quite a few of these on my Ao3! I also have fics on there, which I will also be making a masterpost for!.

Neighborhood Series

A timeline where the skeleton duos all live in their own houses in a singular neighborhood, after being pulled into the timeline by a strange anomaly..

Contains skeleharem elements, as well as individual oneshots for equal screentime.

🪓Scares and a Sudden Friendship🎃

A fic/series mainly themed for Halloween where Reader has a chance encounter with Horror while going to a Haunted House with their partner. Takes place in a Post-Pacifist Horrortale timeline, so Horror goes by Sans.

📖Fairytale Series🪄

A series of miscellaneous fairytale-based scenarios featuring your favorite skeletons. Some may have connections to others!

Cowboy!Stretch/Reader🐎

An AU where Stretch and Blue live on a ranch and work as cowboys. The other skeletons ARE present in other areas, but this mainly just focuses on Stretch and his growing relationship with Reader. Could be considered Farmtale inspired.

💚Nightmare/Multiverse Traveler!Reader✨

A seemingly endless game of Cat and Mouse, where Nightmare chases Reader across the Multiverse in order to finally be with them, meeting various universal variants of them in his quest to find the true one he'd fallen for. Mutual pining, we love to see it!!

AmalgaMATE

A scenario where Reader is an amalgamate of several different Reader souls, and is hopelessly in love with an interpretation of Science Sans.

🖤Bad Sanses🔪

A collection of scenarios with everybody's favorite villains.

🎃Pumpkin Carving! (was originally a part of a now cancelled Halloween writing challenge series.)

☃️Snow Day! (Christmas Special)🌨

🛌Sleepover!

🛝i'm here. (Dust Comfort)💜

🔪"Knife" To Meet'cha (Killer/Reader #1)🍻

🌹Falling For Ya (Killer/Reader #2(?) ) 🌃

🔒Cornered (Dust/Reader) (Kinda steamy)💜

🌌Alone With You (Dust/Reader)💕

📚Tired (Nightmare/Reader, Reverse Comfort)🍵

Standalone Oneshots

Oneshots that haven't been made into series yet/are intended to be by themselves.

☔️Chance Encounter (Dream/Reader)🚍

🎶Dream/Fem Reader (Requested)🌳

💌Messages + Confessions (Error/Reader)📄

🛍First Meeting (Fell Papyrus/Edge!/Fem Reader)🐾 (Requested)

🫧Into The Sea (Merman!Blue/Reader)🌊

☕Home (Cross/Reader)🏠 (Requested)

Star Sanses HQ Shenanigans(Star Sanses & Reader [Platonic]) (Requested)

Flirting With Death (Reaper/Immune!Reader) (Requested)

🎡Carnival Date (Classic!Papyrus/Reader) (Requested)🧣

😱Frightening New Friend (Horror!Papyrus & Reader)🎃 [Halloween Special]

🌊A Light In The Depths (Mer!Nightmare/Reader)🤿

😳Crushing (Cross x Swap Universe!Reader) (Requested)💜

🛞Immune (Siren!Nightmare/Reader)⛵

🩹(Platonic)Fell Sans & Reader Hurt/Comfort (Requested)❤️‍🩹

🌑Bittersweet (Flirty Vampire!Nightmare x Vampire Hunter!Reader)🗡️

Pocky Game (Error/Reader) (Requested)

Muse (Ink/Reader) (Mainly Romantic Implied but can be viewed as Platonic)

My oneshot requests are currently closed, but I will let all of you know when/if they're open again! Feel free to send in Asks otherwise :]

[thaltro]

i repeatedly bang on the screen

master post about night watch when… each of the skeleguys asap please pleas

Haha sure I can give some lore for guy. Lore that isn’t super spoiler for the story.

Dr blue:

Doctor blue is a Swap Sans variant, specifically a handplates swap. He is 37 years old, lives in the omega timeline connected farmtale region. He escaped his timeline at a young age and was found by dream and ink, then placed into the new home foundation (essentially a orphanage) in the connected farmtale. Because he grew up in farm tale he picked up a southern accent. Blues special interest is robotics, his favourite robot being Wheatley from portal. He works in the bio mechanic unit in the hospital, their job is to work on robots and prosthetics for amputees. Dr blue is an amputee, his arm he designed himself! The blue line represents him and the orange is symbolic of his brother. Dr blue must eat all food in panini form, he will refuse to eat anything not panini. He is autistic and has Cptsd from his childhood. Dr blue has a odd relationship with dream, they are very close but have very fundamental disagreements. Dr blue takes care of Dreams child palette a lot. Dr blue sometimes works for mettaton entertainers as he does the stage tech. Hes a huge Mettaton fanboy and is apart of a super fan club that consists mostly of papyrus’s, he being the only sans.

Scell:

Scell is a fell variant, after escaping his timeline he was entered into the omega timeline database and ranked as a class 2 citizen. Scell is a chemist and makes all kinds of hazards for fun in his garage. He also loves cars, he is a huge car nerd and owns a car business with dr blue. Cars are a huge demand within fell culture because of the magic restriction laws for class 2 citizens, it’s an alternative to magic transportation. Scell has multiple golden teeth won by taking other fells teeth. The name “scell” is just Science Fell mashed into one, he was given to it by his peers when he worked as a chemist for the mafia fell faction. Scell is partially blind and should be using a cane but he claims his car is his mobility aid. He is also a nurse as it’s apart of his SAAR program. Most the time he’s delegated to work on stigmatized patients (corrupteds mostly) the main patient he interacts is Geno. He lives with Memory and they both have custody over their adopted kid Punk.

Memory:

Memory is an ex amalgamation recovered by Psychs reversion experiment. His origin is unknown but he seems to be a sans. Memory is physically disabled, most the time needing crutches, a walker, and sometimes a wheelchair. The save star on his face is their soul. Memory has the ability to save and load files of people. He also can upload people’s memories and view them herself. She is transfem and uses all pronouns, his housemate scell makes them not so legal estrogen in their garage. Memory has amnesia and can’t remember her own past. Memory is coded to have a human equivalent of Ehlers–Danlos syndrome and other Chronic pain conditions. Memory is a Class 1 citizen so most jobs don’t hire him, she could only find a job at a morally questionable clown themed pizza place owned by fresh sans. Memory’s SAAR program is working as an semi-Anchorite at the Creationist Church, he qualifies because of his medically proved “false Angel syndrome” status (which essentially means she experienced passive corruption) . Culturally that’s held as a sacred experience so memory is ideal for that position. Memory has a flat affect and likes cats. She loves her son punk and with aid of her finger splints makes him ugly sweaters.

Psych:

Psych is an sentient experiment done by the MedRune corporation. Psych produces medicine that can reverse any type of corruption. And with extreme cases of corruption it is trained to perform magical surgery. It’s not a sans, instead a biological mass found in the atomization void and was moved to the omega timeline. because of the people surrounding him in the lab, he took the form of a skeleton esc form. Psych lives in the storage room of the hospital. Psych is no longer friends with scell, blue, or memory. Psych is designed to have very fragile skin, if it’s slightly scratched or pressure is pushed it will bleed. Psych only has one outfit. Psych showers himself with rubbing alcohol, he drinks it too. Psych doesn’t eat even though he should. Psych is hooked up to a blood drawing machine for 6 hours of each day to produce anti corruption vials for the hospital. He’s gay,, I think. Mostly for guns.

Feels free to ask me more questions.. I really like,, getting nightwatch questions

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER THREE: DEBUT

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ School's in, and so is Spinnerette. Unfortunately that spidey luck doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. Must be a canon in every universe. Crouching off the ledge of the building, you prep yourself. “Back to the ole grind, K.” and then you fly. Leaping off the building, you feel the rush of wind call you. You flick your wrist, sending a web at the nearest building. You swing forward in a graceful arc, flipping and twirling. Each swing makes you faster and sends you higher. You grin under your mask and let out a whoop. “We are so back!” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: hostage situations, mugging attempts, guns wc: 4.3k

You’re irrational in your worry to don the suit. You know logically the battery can last you months, but it might take months to build a nanite chamber. You don’t even want to spend months in this dimension.

Your makeshift nanite chamber is horrific at best. The cord management breaks several lab safety rules. The amalgamation of cables is tucked away in your closet. You haven’t tried to use it yet because you’re absolutely certain it might cause a city-wide power outage.

Tonight, though, you’ll finally introduce Gotham to Spinnerette.

You won’t patrol in East End, Catwoman’s got that covered. You’re not dumb enough to mess around in her territory. You plan on swinging by Crime Alley and the Narrows, two of the worst parts of Gotham. If you find any of the Bats, you’ll just use your totally awesome charm and super duper hero skills to wiggle your way out of their watch. Hopefully.

You take a deep breath, the suit breathing with you. Gotham is so different from your New York. Your home, the “City that Never Sleeps”, is true to its name. The city becomes so much more alive at night, so much more colorful. You’ve seen many New Yorks and its variants, and you’ve never seen one so… lifeless… like Gotham. In all fairness, Gotham is Gotham and not New York.

You sniff, rolling back your shoulders. “How are things looking, K?”

“My forecast predicts rain to hit in 2 hours. Temperature is 74॰, wind speeds are optimal for swinging. I have intercepted police reports nearby about a hostage situation, shall I optimize a route, [Name]?”

Crouching off the ledge of the building, you prep yourself. “Back to the ole grind, K.” and then you fly. Leaping off the building, you feel the rush of wind call you. You flick your wrist, sending a web at the nearest building. You swing forward in a graceful arc, flipping and twirling. Each swing makes you faster and sends you higher. You grin under your mask and let out a whoop.

“We are so back!”

You tuck your knees to your chest, avoiding a billboard. Below you traffic roars. You perform a dance in the sky, swinging from building to building. You feel that familiar adrenaline returning, a reminder of who you are. The weight of responsibility is momentarily forgotten, replaced by sheer freedom.

You flip one last time in the air, landing in a crouch at your destination. You look over the edge. It’s just one guy waving his gun around madly. In his grasp is a child.

“I’ll fucking shoot, I swear! Get me my money right fucking now!” He’s panicked and desperate, which means he’s trigger happy. Normally you’d defuse the situation the best you can, but now? You have the element of surprise. You’ll act quickly.

You send a web and yank the gun out of his hands, then send another web, hauling the man up to you. You web his mouth shut, fisting his shirt and making him face you. His eyes are fearful, but you can’t think of anything to say. You look over to the tense faces of the police. Among them is Jim Gordon. You know he can’t see you, but he’s looking right at you.

You huff, lowering the man. You wrap him up in your webs with familiar ease, like a real spider saving its prey for later. He yelps as he’s dropped and yanked back up, the cops pointing their guns in his direction. The kid from earlier is safe behind Commissioner Gordon, letting you know your job here is done. The only sound they hear is the thwip of your web as you swing away.

“I’d say that went well. Enough,” you blurt into the silence as you’re swinging.

“Certainly, [Name].” You’ve never been able to tell when Karen uses sarcasm, and you suspect you never will.

Over there! In there! Help!

You swerve to your right, barrelling into an alley. You crawl alongside the wall, slowing down when you hear voices.

“Please, I don’t have any money on me!” A woman cries, hands in the air. “Please, please don’t do this. I-I have a son!”

She’s face to face with the barrel of a gun. “I-I don’t give a fuck! I ain’t stupid either. I see them earrings. Cost a pretty buck, I’m sure. Just give me all ya money, and we can both go our ways.”

The gun in his hands is shaking and his voice is wavering. He’s just as nervous as the woman is.

“His name is Garrett Fields. He recently lost a custody battle for his child to his ex-wife. He spent his last dollars fighting for his daughter.”

You purse your lips. One of your least favorite realizations as you got older was how gray the world is. This guy fought for his daughter till the very end, and look where it got him. It doesn’t excuse his actions, but it does explain them.

You approach him from behind silently. You put a finger to your mask when the lady’s eyes flick over his shoulder. Claws dig into his arm as it’s wretched back and the gun is yanked out of his hands. You face the woman.

“Go.” Your voice is distorted thanks to the suit. She doesn’t need to hear anything else before she bolts out of the alley. You make sure Garrett can see it when you crush the gun in your grip. He whimpers.

“What’s up, Garrett.”

He struggles in your grip. “You with the Bats or somethin’?” He asks hysterically.

“Nah,” you wave. “Trust me, though. You’d rather deal with me.” You drop him against the concrete. You rock back and forth on your heels. “So, sorry to hear about the daughter.” You pull up a virtual interface of her face and show it to him. “She’s pretty cute.”

Garrett goes misty-eyed almost immediately. “Emma…”

You kneel in front of him. “Lemme ask you something, Gar.” Despite the mask blocking his view, Garfield shudders when he makes eye-contact.

“Have you killed or otherwise hurt anyone before this? I’ll know if you’re lying.”

There’s a tear rolling down his face. He’s got anger and sadness in his eyes. You see the fruits of Gotham’s influence weighing down on him. You’re once again reminded that some things are just out of your power. Hurt people, hurt people.

“No,” he grumbles out. He’s not lying.

“Alrighty,” you clap your hands, huffing when he flinches at the clink sound your claws make. “Listen, I know. Times are tough, you’re flat broke. That gun didn’t even have any bullets in it.” He scoffs. “There’s this cafe in East End. Owner’s feisty, but real understanding. I got somebody called [Name]  that can vouch for you. We’ll get you set up.”

Garrett scowls at you. “Fuck off. I don’t want your goddamn pity.”

You wave your hands frantically, sitting down next to him. “It’s not pity at all. Understanding. I gotta look out for my little guys. The people who get overlooked or judged too quickly.” You pat his shoulder. “You didn’t kill anybody, so I got you, man.”

Garrett stares at you in visible disbelief. “I’m sending you a couple hundred bucks directly to your bank account. Don’t worry, I stole them from rich people,” you drawl.

He can’t do anything else but chuckle. “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

You hum. “At least I ain’t Batman. He would’ve put your ass in Arkham.”

“At least with Batman I can guarantee I’ll be alive by the end of it.”

You scoff indignantly. “I wouldn’t have killed you!”

He grunts. “Don’t mean you don’t kill in general.”

You shrug, ignoring his side-eye when you don’t deny it. Sighing, you stand up, stretching. “In return for my endless kindness–” Garrett squints in suspicion and rolls his eyes. “–I just need one simple favor.”

“Of course,” he scoffs out.

“Don’t be like that, I just need you to spread the word.”

“The word?”

“Tell people that a giant spider was around webbing up criminals.” Garrett blinks. “It’ll be funny,” is your only explanation.”

You turn and send a web away in preparation to swing away, smiling at his surprised sputter. “My actual name is Spinnerette.” Facing him one last time. “I don’t mind if you call me Spinner, though.”

Your final parting words are “It’s not the end of the world, friend. Keep looking up.”

“News of a ‘Giant Spider’ Webbing Up Criminals in Gotham! A Good Sign or Not?”

“Giant Spider Makes Home in Gotham City.”

“New Threat in Gotham – How to Stay Safe.”

Bruce Wayne rubs his face in exhaustion. Since last night, many articles have sprung up about this ‘spider’ tying up no-gooders in an actual web-like substance. He couldn’t take a sample for himself, it was far too sticky. But he received word from Gordon that he himself had had a run in with the spider.

“It was definitely human-shaped.” He had gruffed out, “The web dissolved after an hour.”

So there’s a new meta in Gotham acting as a spider. And as a vigilante. Bruce can respect delivering justice, and it doesn’t look like they’ve killed anyone. Even so, he can admit he has control issues (maybe not out loud, though), and an unknown variable puts him on edge.

For now though, Bruce has other things to focus on. “What were you saying, Barbara?”

“Somebody got a perfect score on the entrance exam for GA.”

His brows raise. “And who would that be?”

“Some kid named [Name] Stark. I knew you were gonna ask, so I looked into them. It’s kind of weird, their father’s name is Tony Stark, dude’s loaded. He’s an avid traveler, but nothing seems amiss. [Name] is living on their own in East End, working at ‘Carrie’s Cafe’ and getting sporadic payments from her father. Wonder why the hell they’d choose to live in Gotham of all places.”

His eyebrows furrow. “They’re living on their own?”

Barbara scoffs over the call. “They’re 18, don’t get any ideas. I guess they flunked a grade or something, or maybe it’s a late birthday. They just seem like strange people to me.”

Bruce hums, satisfied. “We’ll give them the scholarship, of course. I’ll address the letter personally. And we’ll give them a stipend, as well.”

“Their dad’s rich.”

“That means nothing to me.”

You chuckle mischievously at the headlines. You’ve been cracking up the whole morning about them. You’ll thank Garrett when you next see him as Spinner.

“A successful debut, if I do say so myself, [Name],” Karen pipes up in your ear. Nari meows in your lap. He’s become a faithful companion (read: cuddle partner) in exchange for food. He’s got a good mindset.

Sam’s at the cafe early for once. They give you a smile as you enter. “I was worried that big ass spider got you.”

“And why would it get me, specifically?” you ask as you put on an apron.

“I know you’re an evil freak from the way you have your coffee,” they scoff.

You stick out your tongue at them. “Nothing wrong with my death brew.” Your preferred coffee is known among the staff for its near poisonous potency. You don’t tell anyone the recipe, because you’re kind of afraid it actually is poisonous for normal people. It did it's job in keeping you awake back in the day when patrol ran late.

Carrie walks out, calling for you. She tells Sam to go handle the register, an obvious sign that she needs to talk to you alone. Sam gives you a look as they walk off. Garret Fields is waiting for you in the back.

“I’ll keep it brief so you can get back to work. He’s tryna get a job and said you can vouch for him?” Carrieis suspicion isn’t hidden. Garrent isn’t the same man from the night before. His posture curves in on itself and his eyes are tired. It’s as if he’s already resigned himself to the worst outcome.

You nod, fast. “He’s a friend. It’s a tough time right now, and he really needs a job.” Garrett’s staring at you. “I promise he’s a good egg.”

Carrie ‘uh-huhs’ but lets it go. “Good enough for me,” she pats his shoulder, hard. “I’ll go get the paperwork, then.” And she’s gone, leaving you with Garrett.

“Understanding, right?” you say, quoting yourself from last night.”

“No kidding,” Garrett huffs, before staring at you again. “Thank you. Both of you.”

You raise a brow. “No questions, you sure?”

“Something about a horse gift and a mouth,” he rumbles. “Y’all got me a job, I owe ya.”

“Don’t sweat it,” you wave him off. “Spinner’s in the helping people business, a.k.a, the hero business. They don’t do it to be owed. They’re looking out for people like us.”

“The.. little guys?”

You nod sagely. “You get it.”

He sighs, simultaneously grateful and regretful. “Thank you,” he says once more.

Garrett settles in nicely the next week. He’s got that southerness that charms people into leaving tips, and he knows how to use it.

“Say oil.”

“No.”

Sam likes him well enough, so that makes him a-okay in your books.

“Big day tomorrow, how are we feeling?” Sam asks during closing time. Tomorrow marks your first day at GA. Karen strongly suggested not patrolling on the basis of getting a good night’s sleep, and you’re more keen to follow her advice in this universe.

“What’s tomorrow?” Gar, pipes from the back.

“Our little scholar got a full ride to GA, signed by the big man himself. Ain’t that right?” Sam is getting good at imitating Gar’s accent.

Getting accepted into GA wasn't a surprise. The surprise was the nature of the letter itself.

“Dear [Name] Stark,

I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into Gotham Academy under the Martha and Thomas Wayne scholarship! GA looks forward to seeing you grow.

It is also with great pride that I am able to inform you myself that you have scored perfect on the entrance exam, and are the first in history to do so. You’ll be awarded with a stipend of $500 every two weeks.

I look forward to seeing you overcome challenges and become a part of our community.

Signed,

Bruce Wayne.”

You should've been paying more attention to the answers you were putting down. You had been on autopilot when taking the test, and now Bruce Wayne himself knows about you. To add more insult to injury, you're the first person ever to get a perfect score. You just hope scores aren't available for others to see. You can't imagine the type of vultures that await you if that's the case. At least you can stop stealing from gullible rich people now.

“The hell you doin’ runnin’ with folks like them?” Gar is far more subtle in showing his dislike for Gothams’ elite, but not that subtle.

“Oh, goodie. There's two of you,” you chuckle. You untie your apron. “Uh, for one, it'll look good for me. Two, it'll be easy stuff. And three,” you pause. You can't say you need access to the lab and its funds so you can create a dimensional portal so you say, “and I'm trying to find my rich future spouse.”

Sam cackles, slapping your shoulders. “I've trained you well.”

Gar raises a brow. “Easy? They got college level stuff in that school and you find that easy?”

“They do my work for me sometimes,” Sam states, ignoring Gar's incredulous look.

“Shit, kid. You’re going places.”

You cheekily smile. “I’ll be sure to put you in a nice nursing home.”

You dodge the leftover pastry he throws at you.

You take a bunch of pictures of Nari in the morning when you find him sleeping beside your head. The school uniform is your average private school get-up. You forgo the loafers in exchange for some converse instead. Something about doing your own thing.

Taking the subway reminds you of the late nights of messing around in the empty station with your friends.

“It’s crooked!

“It’s not!”

“It’s definitely crooked.”

The five of you should definitely not be here right now, but teenagers will be teenagers. You showed the gang a spot you found earlier where Miles could spray-paint to his heart's desire. Gwen insists it’s crooked, despite the picture having no defined shape. Miles’ is insisting he knows what he’s doing and Pav is taking a million selfies.

You and Hobie are leaned against a back wall, observing.

“I think I like this.”

Hobie hums, tilting his head to hear you better. “It’s not really talked about, but I know most of us–” you gesture to the trio. “–Spiders have to grow up fast, or don’t really get to grow up at all. I like giving them the chance to be kids.”

You and Hobie are a bit older than the kids. When something happens they turn to you first for answers.

“We gotta… break that generational trauma, or something.”

Hobie chuckles. “I see what you’re saying.”

When Miles is done, he shows you an image of a figure outlined multiple times, showing multiple identities.

You blink when the speakers crackle to life to announce you’ve reached your destination. It’s a short walk to the grounds of GA. Karen is playing ‘calming’ music in your ear. The school feels much more alive now that there are people chatting here and there.

Some people look at you as you walk by, but they’re mostly looking at your shoes. Hopefully the school doesn’t care enough to say something about it. It takes a little longer than it should to find the front desk, but the school is huge so you think you’re allowed some slack. Your schedule has all advanced core classes, Engineering, Ballet, Computer Programming, and Studio Art. Looks like you’ll be starting all your weekdays with Advanced English Lit from now on.

The class is empty when you walk in, and you scurry to the back immediately. You’ve always preferred to see everything happening in the classroom, even before the bite. People fill in slowly, taking up seats randomly. That familiar anxiety comes creeping back in. You tell yourself in your head that everything is fine, but the weight of your situation has been piling up on you. You can pretend everything is fine and that you’re totally okay with being stranded in another universe. You can pretend like you belong, going about your day like a normal person, but that’s all you are. A pretender.

You begin biting your nail. Somebody sits down next to you, and a quiet snap is what you hear. There’s blood crawling down your finger. You bit too much off.

A woman comes into the classroom. She’s got that look about her that says she hates her job, and you get it. Her voice comes out gnarly. “Good morning, class. I hope you’re all settling in comfortably.” You don’t need Nat’s teachings to tell that she’s lying. “My name is Ms. Varley, I’ll be your teacher for the next school year. We’re going to start with some introductions.” The class groans. Ms. Varley tuts. “None of that complaining mess. We’ll start with you.” She points at a poor unfortunate soul.

You zone out as introductions go on. Your ears are filled with snooty accents and proper tones. Most kids talk about what they’re the heir to, barf. Someone mentions how many vacation homes they have.

You stand up when it’s your turn. “[Name] Stark. I like ballet and hot pink,” you pause, thinking of what you can say that’ll make them turn their nose up at you. “I like spiders.”

Predictably, faces of disgust are sent your way. You grin and sit down. Your seat-mate stands up in turn. You’re more occupied with staring head on at the few eyes that are still on you.

“I am Damian Wayne. I am the blood-heir of Bruce Wayne and I have a keen interest in the arts.”

You do your best not to scream. Of course. Of course! You’re convinced this universe has sentience and is belly-laughing at you right now. And he sits right next to you! Why did he choose to sit next to you? There’s an empty pair of desks right over there! God forbid you can just be left alone.

Damian sits down after his brief introduction, you suspect his peers are used to it, if the knowing smiles and head shakes are anything to go by. You sigh and slump down in your seat. You risk a glance at him and will yourself not to jump when you see he is already looking at you.

You feign nonchalance and raise a brow. “Take a picture.”

“You’re not nearly enough of a sight for that.” You bark out a laugh in surprise at the quickness in his answer. Typical.

“Ouch, my feelings.”

“I know you got a perfect score on the exam.” There it is. The bomb. The reason he sat next to you. So, he’s suspicious of you? Great, awesome.

“Yeah, your daddy himself signed my letter. What, you a fan or something? I know I’m pretty awesome.” You’re not sure what you’re trying to achieve with this act, but you can’t really seem to think straight right now.

“I have my suspicions.”

“That I cheated?”

“Perhaps.”

“It’s not a good idea to monologue your evil plans. Why do you care if I did anyway? You know half of these trust fund babies wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for mommy and daddy’s money, right?”

He scoffs. “That much is obvious. And I don’t care if you cheated or not. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“So, what? You jealous that I'm so much better than you? I know, it’s hard to cope.”

His eye-roll is violent. “Wait, I know,” you interrupt when he opens his mouth. “You’re worried I’m a super secret spy working for, like, the Joker or something and that I’m endangering the lives of all the students. You’ve always had dreams of being Robin and kicking ass with Batman so this must be your chance to prove yourself.” What do they say about freudian slips? “How right am I?”

You’re certain his suspicion runs deeper than that, but hopefully your spiel gets him off your ass for a while. He won’t want your (joking) suspicions about Robin to fester and have you realize he actually is Robin, so he’ll let it die.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.”

You can feel his eyes on you for the rest of the class. You’d think Robin would be more subtle. The lab for your science class is… fine. Maybe you’re just spoiled from the Tower’s labs. You feel the same when you walk into the computer lab. You should probably start bringing your own laptop to school. The dance studio is cute, though. The teacher is faking a russian accent, but you think you’re the only person who can tell. She only teaches you how to do proper stretches, so at least it seems like she knows her stuff.

Finally, your last period comes down to art class. A chill class to end the day makes you happy. Large windows let the sun cast its rays. You take your seat in the corner. There’s various plants littered around the room, real plants. There’s even fairy lights hanging above. This is definitely going to be your favorite class.

You hum along to the song Karen plays in your ear.

“Harness your hopes on just one person…” you hum.

“Already talking to yourself, I see.”

You look over to where Damian is settling down next to you. “Can’t get enough of me?” You coo.

“On the contrary, I’m already sick of you.”

“Still suspicious of me yet, boy wonder?”

His glare would kill a lesser person. The teacher walks in with a bright and cheery attitude. She’s got that Ms. Frizzle attitude about her that makes you either love her or hate her. You love her.

She sets you all up with your own sketchbooks, high quality ones. You decorate your cover with all the colors of your friends. You draw little coffee cups and pastries in unconventional colors. Big graffiti style letters spell out random phrases. You peek at Damian and see that his notebook just has his name on it, boring.

Ms. M, as she’s allowed you all to call her, begins droning on about color theory and principles and elements and a bunch of other stuff you don’t pay attention to. You count the minutes as you watch the sun slowly set outside the window. You clack your nails together in boredom.

“Hundred bucks for me to moan out loud.”

Damian does a good job of keeping his composure, but you can see the disbelief from your words. He grits out, “Why would I ever pay you to do such a thing?”

“One might feel adventurous on occasion.” You weren’t going to moan even if he did pay you a hundred bucks, you just felt that twitch to say something to dispel the quiet.

You suck in a breath. “So…”

“I have no interest in conversing with you.”

You dramatically whine. “You’re no fun. What does a guy like you even do for fun?”

“It is as I said, I don’t–”

“–wish to converse with me, I know. So, art then? You like to draw?” You lean forward towards him.

“It does not concern you–”

“I think you’re the type of guy to like minimalist  art. You’d be the type to find something outta nothing.”

He scoffs, and you know you’ve got him. “Minimalist is the most baseless form of all. The lack of detail is abhorrent and requires no true skill. Classical is far superior, it takes a certain mastery of skill to truly imitate the renaissance–” he pauses. You grin, showing your teeth.

His huff is silenced by your giggles.

notes: i imagine readers NY looking like rottmnt's NY (it's really vibrant and lively-looking if ur too lazy to look it up)

i feel like this chapter is pretty fast paced in the beginning (god forbid i know how to write action sequences) so uh sorry bout that

you've dodged the batfamilys suspicions! for now anyway. except damian ofc. i havent read any dc comics so sorry if dami's ooc.

Nari is short for Narinder, from Cult of the Lamb :D. also, how are we feeling about Gar? when i write him i think about Joel from tlou, and i think im gonna try to channel that as hard as i can lol.

reader was humming "Harness Your Hopes" by Pavement.

bruce when he learns reader is a "teen" living by themself: it's free real estate

[falbrightsplace]

What of Riddles and Murder?

I think I’ve left my Tumblr dormant long enough, don’t you? So let’s get into some analysis! Delve deep and see what we can see! And what better subject than one Edward Nygma! The Riddler!

But not just any Eddie.

No.

No.

No…

My favorite Riddler, the one who my own interpretation blends into the most (combined with a dash of Arkham and a fair bit of Pre-New 52 continuity rearranged)! Who, you ask! Who!!!

This smug bastard:

Zero Year Nygma is special for a lot of reasons. For one he’s a great amalgamation of what was old (the facial structure, nose, and being...well, ginger lend themselves to BTAS) and something delightfully new while touching on some beautiful, horrid symbolism (the Zorro mask is a prime example for the story he’s ‘debuting’ in). He’s also exceptionally violent in a way that simultaneously suits the Riddler in cavalier execution while being somewhat divergent in the sheer scale he inflicts said violence. That extends not just to the big event, but from his very introduction to the story.

The whole idea emerged due to talking with my roommate, a longtime friend who has been privy to every permutation and head canon I’ve carried for that gremlin over the years. In that moment I started to outline every single way he implies, instigates, or outright exacts some violence upon a person or the greater populace of Gotham City. Let’s walk through them, shall we?

From the outset of the story he was suggesting to Philip that the most efficient application of Occam's Razor is to Bruce’s throat. That it was the only option with the prodigal son setting a showdown with what had become a disgraced company in his absence. Even if the matter is tabled, rejected, and ultimately thrown back in his face it was one presented simply to prove that Eddie could read the board. A bone thrown on the pile as a means to validate himself and the clandestine power he held within that little cat’s cradle.

Not only does he push such an agenda with one of the more intense expressions of the arc (a stark contrast to his glib ennui at a baseline or the absolute mania of Savage City), he hints at that fact to Bruce himself after riling the young fledermaus up. Even if, contextually, he can’t understand it there’s a flex of “I know something you don’t know. Something you’d probably like to know. Something you need to know.” with deadly implications. All presented dull eyed and with a smirk after their game, a game he feels he’s thoroughly won on and off the board because those final words in the museum suggest that Mr. Wayne is in check and Edward will never have to see that particularly annoying piece ever again courtesy of the Red Hood Gang.

Then there’s the fact that he essentially pushed a very ill man to not only self experimentation, a deadly prospect in and of itself, but inspired what essentially became one of the most prolific (and horrific) strings of serial killings up to that point in the City’s history. All with silver tongued promises. All to cover for the theft of one Pamela Isley’s research in the panic between his own (comparatively) benign blackouts. And a guaranteed end to the murder weapon he had chosen, come hell or (literal) high water.

We’re already seeing a pattern within the violence of choice, yes? Before even arriving at the big ones it has the Riddler hallmark of being hands off. Yet there is something to be said of the frequency this young version of the villain chooses to employ it. Often while employing a sociopathic bit of emotional sleight of hand, putting on an impish face that can be perceived, at times, as downright goofy or even charming. That can truly mask how awful he is. Yet unlike some variants of the villain, he’s not pushed by a literal demon within the city’s heart or some deeply disturbing event which further cracked his psyche. He’s doing this from the outset and moving towards the trickster that people think of (we’re discounting King and some dismal attempts during the mid 2010’s to try and create a ‘dark’ Riddler renaissance in storytelling) rather than being pushed towards this outcome. Put a pin in that thought, it’ll come into the discussion as we move towards (petty, petty...petty) motivation in explaining how this creates a truly unique, petulant, bombastic and subtly terrifying version of this classic.

Back to the crimes for people who need a refresher!

After having effectively Karl Hellfern for everything his failing body and soul could take, he makes a show to Jim Gordon. We know the one. The string game. With a boulder. A more classic Riddler tact to be sure. Very in line with the death traps that cover an escape and yet the exception here is that there is no riddle. It’s simply physics: a promise of enough force to completely collapse a great part of that floor of a sturdily built office building. It’s a blunt statement wherein the only one playing is Edward himself. Which already suggests he’s stepping further and further into his persona while showing that vicious streak, now sparing that toxic green curtain he’d hide behind while putting on a performance that would put the Mighty Oz to shame. And there’s a glee to it. Literally holding something over someone’s head.

What can I say about the rupturing of the retaining walls? Of essentially setting up an impossible game on only the slimmest of chances. Eddie, your carnie background may have been struck from your resume but it definitely showed here. The results are catastrophic. If you’ve watched The Penguin, go take in the first scenes of Episode 3 again and imagine that while the city is under siege by a super storm of historic proportions. In a blackout. With no hope of anyone coming to save them. There are no pumps to steadily restore even vestigial use of not just certain sectors, but the city as a whole.The visuals are horrific in a way I do not think that the illustration team on this run could have depicted. Nor should anyone have to endure the sheer heartbreak of such grandiose tragedy presented in as visceral a manner as it could be. All played off to a man who comments only to himself, answers to only himself. With that same glibness he applies to all potential casualties. A dull look. A haphazard smirk that is absolutely at home for a Riddler, but given the circumstances? Might have been wiped off the faces of others if presented with such an option. Even for clout.

Savage City is simultaneously where Eddie truly goes from simply himself to elevating into The Riddler. His M.O. is established with the same odds as always: near nil. The difference is that rather than focusing the crime upon a target (either an object or a person as is often the case), he is indiscriminate and demanding that people play his game. In essence he is the Sphinx demanding souls step forward for sacrifice, languidly looking on and pondering what measures to employ. Lions. Truly. The man lives for circuses of his own making.

Then there’s the deployment of weaponized drones, a planned one given his understanding of the weapons tech at his disposal after essentially leaving the back door open to steal everything from under Kane’s nose. These are suppressive, deadly automatons. And while there is some whimsy, it is, perhaps, a much more brutal arm to employ to a darker end than say...Arkham Knight Riddler. They are there to snuff out the competition, to keep the game in perpetuity. If anyone works outside the parameters the promise is humiliation and death.

And let’s talk about that promise, shall we? He is not only a typical sore loser of a Riddler, he is violently so. Basically creating a MAD scenario in which the only way to not essentially ring out the death knell for Gotham was for the would be hero to have lethal current run through them. That wasn’t even a sure shot. Death surrounds Edward Nygma at this point. He is a Rube Goldberg machine of it. By design.

Basic summary, doesn’t quite do the horrors he inflicts justice. He honestly deserves his little cocoon at the end of the arc. Truly. And I say that with certainty. Because not only do we have his body of work for this stretch but we have blatant motivation. If BTAS Eddie grabbed a scalpel to take to Mockridge upon receiving his pink slip, what would you say ZY! Nygma grabbed? And more importantly, why? Because I can tell you that man did not load a several megaton bomb (comparatively) with razor edged bits of esoteric trivia due to being fired. No, the job was always something that could be tossed away. It was the fact that Philip suggested he wasn’t something extraordinary. It was the fact that in suggesting that Edward Nygma was no one at all, a mere cog that tied together greater machines (machines that could move on without him), little Eddie had an identity crisis. A terrible tantrum that turned all that focused calculation into a deathtrap for the world that his mind had could not fathom going on without acknowledging him. His work. His greatness. And in rampaging like a toddler, moving in the reverse trajectory of just about every other Riddler (who again, often are pushed) finds what actually brings him joy. The acclaim of Zero Year? Oh, boy, does he cling onto that like a washed up high school quarter back. Even going so far as to recreate aspects to spook people so they don’t forget. And yet it’s the game that keeps him going. The constant back and forth with the Bat. The joy of a diversion with stakes that demand complexity. And, perhaps, in this manic, destructive regression, the New 52 Riddler was born hanging in that special ward of Arkham in his defeat. Emerging more focused, perhaps a bit more cautious. Still mildly more violent than other iterations...but more historically himself.

And I find that fascinating.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The King of the Cats

A fun little folklore plot that shows up in Scotland, Ireland and England is the death (and succession) of the King of the Cats.

The story usually begins with a man being told, either by a cat or a disembodied voice, to inform a certain person that another person has died. Both persons are called by their full name, usually strange names, which are unfamiliar to the protagonist. When the protagonist comes home he tells what a strange thing happened to him. Upon overhearing the message the house cat jumps up and declares that they are now the King of the Cats, immediately leaving never to be seen again.

There are other versions of this type of story, more widespread over Europe, where there cat may be a fairy or troll in disguise. Or there isn’t a cat at all, but a house gnome or elf instead, and the announced death is that of a relative or enemy. But it’s the concept of a King of the Cats who can be succeeded by a cat that is currently an ordinary house cat, that delights me so.

The name of the deceased Cat King and the successor differ per story:

In this version from Lancashire they are called Doldrum and Dildrum.

In Joseph Jacobs’ version, which is an amalgamation of several English variants, they are called Tom Toldrum and Tom Tildrum. (This version even includes a whole feline funeral procession.)

The oldest recorded version of this story is from the Beware the Cat by Baldwin (written 1553, published 1561). Only the dead cat in question (Grimalkin) is never called the king of the cats, and the cats receiving the message (Puss) is a female cat, who is sad to leave her home.

In this Scottish version the successor is unnamed, but the dead Cat King is called Old Peter.

The stories sadly do not say a lot about what it means to be the King of the Cats, apart from some mentioning a sceptre and crown, but Lady Wilde does have something to say about him in her Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland (1888):

A most important personage in feline history is the King of the Cats. He may be in your house a common looking fellow enough, with no distinguishing mark of exalted rank about him, so that it is very difficult to verify his genuine claims to royalty. Therefore the best way is to cut off a tiny little bit of his ear. If he is really the royal personage, he will immediately speak out and declare who he is; and perhaps, at the same time, tell you some very disagreeable truths about yourself, not at all pleasant to have discussed by the house cat.

Her second example has a content warning for animal cruelty, so I will put it underneath a cut, but it does imply that the Cat King might be capable of reincarnation…

A man once, in a fit of passion, cut off the head of the domestic pussy, and threw it on the fire. On which the head exclaimed, in a fierce voice, "Go tell your wife that you have cut off the head of the King of the Cats; but wait! I shall come back and be avenged for this insult," and the eyes of the cat glared at him horribly from the fire. And so it happened; for that day year, while the master of the house was playing with a pet kitten, it suddenly flew at his throat and bit him so severely that he died soon after.

[eight-ball-juice]

crackpot theory about friend

This may come off as a shitpost and it quite possibly might be- but I believe Friend is the opposite of the Annoying Dog. The antithesis to Toby Fox.

I have some loosely rational (mostly irrational) takes. This entire idea came from the fact that- there's a LOT of cats in Deltarune. And these cats are somewhat important to the themes of the stories. Clover is a mini boss of chapter 1; a whole section of card castle is dedicated to just them. Secondly is Tasque Manager and her Tasques. Then you have Shadowguy Mike (and a handful of other Shadowguys) Then you have Seam.

THEN you have multiple cat people from the light world; Catti's whole family, pizzapants. It's also interesting to note that both. Catti and Catty have close connections with Kris and Asriel (I may be confusing which Catti), but the younger one seems to be friends with Kris and there's mentions of her summoning a demon with them. In the church dialogue when you have no items, Susie will find a letter from Asriel in his jacket, asking out the other Catti to the school dance. Pizzapants- another cat, is also supposedly very close with Asriel.

Then you have Friend. Friend has been depicted as a Cheshire Cat type character a few times, where anytime they have an outline- it's with cat ears.

What's most interesting and led me on the path to this theory is the intro to Chapter 3 where Ralsei is explaining the dark world is the Cat amalgamate with mikes face. This is directly a character from Undertail, a somewhat abstract character, specifically changed to be cat like.

This gives me the idea and concept that Friend is a variant of Toby, as the cat theme is strewn throughout Deltarune the way dogs were in Undertale. Yes, most of the dogs from Undertale are in the light world in Deltarune but aside from Annoying Dog references once in a while, it's not a lot. But there's a LOT of cats

[fizzyboy]

Are there examples of several Ichor creatures fusing together to form a larger being? Sorta like an amalgamate type thing if you understand what I'm getting at

Yes and no. See, I have this variant called the Goliath (haven't sketched it out yet) and it's basically this really big humanoid mass of ichor that forms from blots, as most things do.

[tyrantchimeraart]

OKay @dumpsterfirepropaganda mentioned a ZX AU with Model Ws being like, a zombie-style infection and OF COURSE I had to brainstorm up a Model O variant over on the ZX Discord. So here's the summary lol.

The Model O strain was accidentally created when Vent and Aile, desperate for a cure, tried to see if Model O/Omega would be able to override the control and/or mutations of Model W. Vent/Aile just wanted to find a way to counteract the W virus, and Prairie's situation made them desperate so they went YOLO mode and unleashed a small model W infected into Area N and/or threw a model O at one because they knew Omega was the source of the original maverick virus. And they were hoping so hard that there would be an immunity there, or a poison-fights-cancer-first sort of thing (like radiation treatment, only with ancient maverick). But they only partly succeeded. Because yes Omega was technically immune (pissed off at them for throwing a model W at him though) and the O strain does indeed override the W virus… but it just makes things WORSE instead of better.

The O-strain infected retain more of their concious and soul instead of being completely consumed like the W-strain victims, but it also powers them up and makes them unpredictable and violent. (Model O & W double megamerge basically. Eff that.) Due to the nature of Area N, the O-strain has been imprisoned successfully, so far, in Area N... barely. Vent/Aile are secretly sitting with their metaphorical thumbs in the dam/dike and praying to whatever gods will listen that their mistake stays sealed away.

…what's worse is that you get the combined effect of Omega's control and the infectiousness of the W virus. OMEGA CAN CONTROL THE INFECTED. And possibly the only reason he hasn't controlled the infected en masse so far is that he's still sealed un Area N and Vent/Aile are ABSOLUTELY KEEPING IT THAT WAY.

It's known that Model W hosts often gain unwieldy or mobility-reducing mutations as their disease progresses. Omega strain hosts do not do this. Unlike W strains all of their mutations are often streamlined and deadly, almost seeming to have a purpose. They are "antisocial" compared to W hosts; they do not seek other infected victims in their end days to join together for an Ouroboros. Instead they seek to gain mass through violence, gaining mass solely for themselves… AKA they are much more independant. W-strain hosts get a homing instinct to beds to amalgamate. O-strain uses that homing instinct to gorge itself and make itself more powerful, and they will cannibalize W-strain hosts if the opportunity arises. …And, like, anything else within range too probably XD

In short... Where W's are bulky, intimidating tanks that can take a lot of damage but are slow as hell, O's are fast and vicious fuckers.

This sort of data is mostly conjecture and one or two cases. Thankfully Omega/O strains have been kept mostly contained. Only one O strain host accidentally breached the containment of Area N. It was NOT a fun experience.

If there's one saving grace, its that O-strain is much less contagious… or maybe the infected just kills any possible hosts too quickly…?

PS; no one even knew that the O host escapee was a different strain from other infected. Aile/Vent hunted that sucker down ASAP. It was just a terrifying outlier that thankfully never repeated, as far as most people (including the Masters of Legion) know.

Probably O strain hosts have red instead of white for some body parts and drip gooey black ichor. For the Aesthetic (tm).

Omega himself has long gone mad due to isolation and Weil's previous machinations, so combined with the virus he's become a monstrous foe not to be tangled with. He can mutate seemingly at will.

[nyabsolart]

>Begin Eidolonstuck

i thought a lot about these so im gonna explain them below the cut

[Original Prankster] by The Offspring. goofy for kiddo june, much like homestuck she has the most straightforward. Fun experience. if this were like, an "au" i imagine imps would just start showing up, shades slipping free from the undertow and completely overwhelming the planet with numbers. they would get popped into. eidolon grist. by errant anvils, tripwires, and all manner of cream pies. the song is upbeat, catchy, and fun. the body is made out of a ghostbusters statuette :3

[Body]

by Mother Mother. it is chaotic, nonsensical, and confusing. why does this represent her soul? very light and rain. its designed to confuse and frustrate her. light into dark magic is pretty grimdark-y. she can direct her eidolon with the wands, causing it to shine a black light from its chest. design notes are the princess hat like jaspersprite, the needlewands, and just a fun fact but the legs are a vector of a slot machine handle

[Die Anywhere Else]

from Night in the Woods. this ones one of my favorites, die anywhere else as a power for dave rules to me. not to suck my own dick but like. yeah thats what he does! the power allows him to postpone death, not prevent it. one more hour, one more dave, die somewhere else, not here.

[Friends With You]

by The Scary Jokes. another favorite! jade probably gets her eidolon way before everyone else, but i dont think shes a veteran. she just peers through the scope and watches from afar. its cool how the only way she can interact with her friends is through the barrel of a gun! you figure out the implications of this

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[I Remember It]

by someone on twitter idk search it on youtube. Funny song, funny guy! song is about doug walker taking on the burden of every nightmare, remembering it so you dont have to. davesprite remembers and changes it so it never happened. not really sure how the sprited players fit into this, i guess they split off from the main eidolon? but yeah davesprite remains super fucked up and came back to fix things.

[Dog Days Are Over]

by Mitski. vibe of the song should be obvious, this was on allll the sadstuck jade playlists back in the day. she focuses on the only thing that matters, keeping her friends safe

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[Burning Down The House]

by The Talking Heads. aha bdth reference. this is a pretty straightforward retcon thing so i dont have much to say about it not from the comic, though it looks cool. shed have to like, realize something latent within herself and then her dinky eidolon would grow into the House, and shed need to climb the steps and enter the door. pacing wise i think she should have gotten a new eidolon when she god tiered as well, so i guess it MIGHT not be dinky, but cmon we know june, it is. its some vrillyhoo shit. the songs vibe fits with Original Prankster, and with june, i think. art notes: the texture in the cuts of the House are purple meat, and theres lava under the foundation

[Same Bones New Body]

by The Variants. boom. body upgraded into this, its a great naming scheme. Body gets melted down in the green sun and is reconstructed into this, still a confusing amalgamation but with more purpose. the abilities are obviously seer of light stuff and once again read the comic for info on that. my fun fact is my best friends sister had a falling out with someone in this very small band, which i didnt know before listening to them

[One More Time]

by Daft Punk. big fan of the band here. i mean im not a daft punk fan, but in this context. something about it is like. dave chill the fuck out, have some fun! which feels like a thing the sburbian universe would force on him. relax, take it less seriously! heres a strong as fuck metal beast to punch your enemies out of time. it has a similar shape to his og eidolon but its built of different parts. a metaphor?

[Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf)]

by AWOLNATION. sacrifice into change is crazy for jade, the universe reallyyy hates her. loneliest girl in the world shit. it pretty much sums her up, when she meets up with her friends her old eidolon isnt as useful. now she gives up parts of herself until theres nothing left. one of the bigger visual departures from her first eidolon, its probably completely destroyed and out of it comes this and Dog Days

thanks for reading to the end :3