#plotholes books

[plothole-in-one]

Dancing with Deceit || Bill Cipher || Chapter 5

Chapter 5

There was salt on the floor. Salt in the microwave. Salt in my hair.

I looked like I’d gone to war with a pretzel.

Bill floated above the mess, humming.

“So,” I said, arms crossed, “you wanna explain what exactly a ‘distortion entity’ does, or are we just pretending that didn’t almost eat my kitchen?”

“Oh, buddy,” Bill said cheerfully, “you are way past the ‘explain it slowly’ phase of cosmic involvement. That thing? Think of it as… reality’s nosy neighbor. It doesn’t knock. It just sort of oozes in, peeks around. But hey, you're one of the lucky ones! If you'd 've touched that thing you would have had it rearranged your organs!!!. HAHA!!

I gagged a little. “Neat. So fun. So comforting.”

“Good! That’s the spirit!!” He beamed. “You’ll be an excellent pawn—uh, partner! Yeah, partner.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You almost said pawn.”

“Noooo,” he singsonged. “I was gonna say poppet. You’re my little poppet. My little eldritch snugglebug.”

I flung a spoon at him. It went through his head.

“Okay, okay,” I growled. “What now? Am I supposed to—what—fortify my house? Hire a priest? Move into a salt circle and live there forever?”

“Fun idea! But pointless. They’ve already sniffed you out. You’re like a glowing ‘FREE LUNCH’ sign to things that slither through dimensional folds.”

I mumbled something under my breath, “You could slither through my dimensional folds any day…”

There was a beat of silence.

Bill blinked.

Then he threw his head (body??) back and howled with laughter, the sound spiraling into something that grew unrecognizable. “OH, WOW. Bold move, meat puppet! Horny and terrified. My favorite combo.”

My face was on fire. “I– I didn’t mean– I wasn’t– IT WAS A JOKE, BILL.”

“Oh no no no, don’t backpedal now.” He wiped a phantom tear from the edge of his eye. “That was gold. I’m keeping that one. Framing it. Tattooing it across the sky in flaming letters.”

I grabbed a dish towel and buried my face in it. “Kill me. Kill me now.”

“Oh.." he purred, circling lazily above me, “you’re way more useful alive. Especially if I can keep short-circuiting your brain like that!”

I peeked out from the towel, mortified.

He was smirking. Not in a flattered way. In a "Oh, I’m going to make this worse for you"-way.

He knew.

And worse—he was going to use it.

“Stop looking at me like that!” I snapped. “Like I’m SOME..toy!!”

“Ohhh, kid, you’re not a toy.”

I blinked.

“You’re a game. And games are so much more fun.”

I backed up toward the fridge. Not because I thought it was safe—nothing felt safe—but because I needed to put some kind of barrier between us. Even if that barrier was my half-defrosted bag of peas.

“What do they want?” I asked. “The entities. What could they possibly want from me?”

Bill twirled his cane, shrugging. “Who knows? Maybe they want your soul. Maybe they’re just bored. Or—” he leaned in until I could see every tiny shifting rune inside his pupil “—maybe you’ve got something hidden. Something you don’t even know about yet.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m just a paranormal researcher. A very tired, very cursed researcher who wants to eat soup and not die.”

“You’re more than that,” Bill said, eerily serious now. “You wouldn’t be flagged if you weren’t.”

He hovered closer. Too close.

“And if you really want to survive this,” he added, “you might wanna start trusting me.”

I stared at him.

Then I laughed. Short, sharp, bordering on hysterical. “Trust you?! Bill, you lie like it’s your love language.”

"AWW, kid. I don’t believe in love.”

“Exactly.”

He paused, tilting his head. Then, with a chuckle, “You’re learning.”

I didn’t like the way he said that.

[heliomanteia]

I think Nico's ability to survive is less so about his will to live and more so about his refusal (less so personal and more so narrative-wise) to die. Nico, for the lack of a better word, is like a cockroach: you cannot kill him in a way that matters so he survives and keeps haunting the scene.

There was once a marvelous post on Nico's function as a narrative tool and it was so beautifully pointed out that he's a near-omniscient deus ex machina (to simplify) which cannot be overlooked when characterizing him. Nico carries so much narrative weight on his back (which arguably could be an example of either good or bad writing depending on your perspective) that he cannot just go and die.

His road towards healing (though definitely not walked alone/individually) is his own, that's his choice to make as a character, but his disposition as a guy that perseveres resides more within his function, in my opinion.

He's not the tragic prince doomed for self-destruction people often draw him out to be but his capacity for survival is also not a product of his continuous work as a character, at least not just that — but is rather a result of his narrative function. Simply saying, you cannot, narratively, kill off Nico di Angelo.

[thelonelyshore-if]

MC putting a bratty Croft in place in bed by tying them up and then listing all the plot holes in their books

You had me in the first half Nonnie lmao.

I'm losing my mind though this is so funny. They'd be so excited only for MC to torture them (not in a sexy way). Tragic, so sad, Croft is crying in bed 😔😔😔

[ventique18]

"I wish you'd have seen your father in his prime," Lilia had reminisced, "He had the most beautiful wings. Just like yours."

What if... What if Crowley didn't know that Malleus was his son? What if he knew that Maleanor died, but didn't know when because he was incapacitated for so long? There were so few records about the history that unfolded when he was pathetically asleep. All he knew was that his child must've died a long time ago because Malleus was so young and couldn't have been his. Still, he looked so much like Maleanor... So if Malleus was Maleanor's, but not his, then he was glad that she still found happiness even after she thought him dead.

Even if he didn't find happiness after her.

But then... But then the boy, the boy who looked so much like his Maleanor, spread his wings in a desperate bout to save that little human's life. Wings that looked like his. Wings that looked like those he lost when he was saving his beloved's life. His wings.

Maleanor, my son is alive.

Our son is alive.

[querkynchaotic]

wait wait wait hold on

if harry was a horcrux and basilisk venom destroys horcruxes

why was harry still a horcrux after he got bitten in chamber of secrets ? shouldn't that have killed the part of voldemort in him ?

[annachum]

AU where Jon and Sansa became King and Queen of Westeros, and their marriage reunited the 7 Kingdoms, similarly with Henry VII and Elizabeth of York

[puhpandas]

I feel like I'm insane why are none of the hw2 update theories talking about the connections of 3 star with mxes and how its plausible they're driving the van pre-ruin it's right there it's not even hidden or hard to piece together its SO obvious. SO MUCH evidence points towards it. itd make perfect sense too. the gift shop and the van are grouped together bc its saying that mxes came from the factory, probably built by Edwin, and 3 star took them to set up ruin, their footprints around ruin where nodes are + Gregory's backpack by mxes + his knowledge about mxes making it painfully clear. it reveals where mxes came from easily. all information it could convey is here.

they all just keep saying "someone" or "they're taking mxes post ruin or it's back in the 70s or it's the van that hit david (SO many plotholes with that)" like oh my god i swear everything has to be about the mimic/tftp and Gregory and vanessa dont exist if they arent actively vanny and ggy in the YouTube theory community. why will nobody actually observe in game evidence. theres so many obvious plotholes that nobody but me sees with it being the van that hit david and it's making me feel insane

[fistfuloflightning]

Just reread Ice Fantasy by Guo Jingming and I feel like the drama did it such a disservice—none of the character designs were honored (I’m still super bitter they axed the hair=power even tho I understand why they did it)

In the time-honored tradition of ignoring official depictions, here’s Kasuo’s phoenix robes and the Xue Lan crown

[sweetreveriee]

screams

[gracebethartacc]

soooo I had a lore idea earlier that ties into the rewrite really well,,,,,,

Poor unfortunate souls am I right :)

[plothole-in-one]

Dancing with Deceit || Bill Cipher || Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The walk back to my trailer was... longer than usual.

Probably because the forest wouldn’t stop breathing. maybe i was high. that would explain alot. or dead.

i pinched myself.

"ow!!"

nope. not dead.

“Hey, uh, quick question,” I said without turning. “Is reality gonna keep doing this?”

Bill’s response was a delighted cackle. “Maybe! Who’s to say? Cause and effect are so last season..”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was nervous—which I very much was.

When I finally emerged from the tree line and saw the glint of my trailer’s busted antenna, I almost wept. Civilization! Sort of! A place with working outlets and a fridge full of questionable yogurt!

I keyed open the door and stepped inside, kicking off my boots. Bill just phased through the wall behind me, arms thrown wide like he was expecting applause.

“Ahhh, home sweet trailer! Oh, this is charming! Very... survival horror! Very found footage! I love it.”

“Don’t touch anything,” I muttered, tossing my backpack into a corner and making a beeline for the mini-fridge.

"and that once again doesn't make ANY sense."

I cracked open the first can of cold caffeine I could find and downed half of it before Bill hovered into my personal space again.

“So, what’s the plan, fleshbag? You got any cursed videotapes? Haunted dolls? Maybe a toaster possessed by the ghost of Elvis?”

“What the fuck? no? does that exist??? I was gonna take a nap,” I said flatly.

He gasped “You can’t nap now! We’ve just begun the greatest cosmic joyride of your puny little life! You’re finally interesting!”

“Oh gee. Thanks.”

He spun, arms out. “I mean it! You’re the key to unlocking interdimensional chaos again! You're on the board, Kid! All Eyes are on you!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Whose eyes?”

His eye flared. “Not ones you want looking.”

I stared at him. “...You’re not just being dramatic, are you?”

“There are things that stir when timelines snap. Things that watch through cracks. You shook my hand and cracked the door—and they heard it creak.”

The silence that followed was heavier than it had any right to be.

“So,” I said eventually, “you’re saying I’m cursed?”

“I’m saying,” Bill drawled, “you’re mine. And by extension, a bit... flagged.”

He gestured to the air, and for half a second, I saw it—this weird shimmer around me t flickered out just as quickly as it flickered in.

I sat down on the edge of my rickety bed. “I should’ve stayed home. I knew there was something wrong with the forest tonight..”

Bill snapped his fingers and conjured a mug labeled WORLD’S BEST COSMIC HOSTAGE and pouring the rest of my cold coffee inside of it. “Too late now! You're stuck with me, kid!”

“Can I unstick myself?”

“Nope!”

“Cool. Love that.”

I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “Okay. New rule. If you’re gonna haunt my sad little trailer, you pull your weight." I grabbed my coffee from his sad, dark, hand. "You help. No cryptic riddles, no mind games, and for the love of all things unholy, no summoning things..”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, mock-offended. “But sure! I’ll play flesh-bag for a while! I’ll blend in. Pass as your fun, totally normal roommate!”

I looked at him. “You’re a floating, glowing triangle.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got flair!”

He twirled in place like he was showing off an outfit, despite having the same two stupid accessories. “Ta-da! What do you think? Hot or horrifying?”

“worse” I deadpanned.

"WOW!!! I am Flattered.”

I sighed and flopped onto my creaky excuse of a bed. “I cannot believe I’m letting this happen..”

“You shook my hand,” he sing-songed, kicking his non-existent feet up onto a floating recliner he summoned from a rift in space-time. “This is a team-up! Think Batman and Joker. With more teeth. And less moral ambiguity!”

“whats with you and teeth?!?!?” I muttered. “Exactly what I wanted. An eldritch nightmare roomie.”

Outside, the wind picked up. Or—not wind. Something was moving out there. It sounded like a dial-up modem being dragged through wet gravel, layered with a whisper that made my brain twitch.

Bill didn’t even flinch. But his eye did that twitchy, flicker thing it does when he’s actually paying attention.

“That’s not normal wind, is it?” I asked, already knowing the answer and hating it.

“Nope!” he chirped. “That’s something sniffing around. You broke the lock. Now the scavengers come sniffing.”

I sat bolt upright. “Here?!”

He waved a hand. “Relax. It can’t get in..”

I dove for my backpack. “I have an emergency sigil in here somewhere.”

Bill clapped. “Look at you! Little spooky overachiever!! I’m so proud I could explode! But I won’t. Yet.”

I flipped open my notebook to the page labeled HOLY CRAP EMERGENCY DEMON STUFF and dropped to my knees. “If this thing gets inside, you’re fighting it.”

“Me?” he scoffed, lounging upside-down in midair. “I’m on vacation! But maaaybe… if you ask real nice. Or if it turns out to be funnier than expected.”

I muttered the words of the sigil—half in Latin, half in a language that tastes like static—and the trailer briefly rattled. The howling outside faded. The fuzziness in my ears cleared.

The silence after was almost worse.

Bill slow-clapped. “Aww. Look at you, little wizard. I’m so proud I could puke teeth.”

I stared at him. “Do not puke teeth in my trailer.”

“No promises.”

He did a lazy backflip in the air and settled into a cross-legged hover. “So, roomie. What’s for dinner? ”

I groaned, getting to my feet. “Nothing for you. You’re not even supposed to eat.. I think.. can you eat??”

“I can!! Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” he said with a shrug.

I made my way to the kitchenette, opened a can of soup, and dumped it into a pot. As it bubbled, I caught my reflection in the microwave’s metal door—tired, messy hair, with a thousand-yard stare that screamed “kill me please.”

Behind me, Bill hovered like a smug jerk, hands folded behind his back?? (does he even HAVE a back???), eye twinkling like this was all some kind of delightful sitcom.

Maybe it was.

And maybe the laugh track was just getting started.

NEXT CHAPTER>>

[the-way-astray]

in love with the way ms. messenger changes how mesmering works with every book.

in the first book, it's implied that he can literally erase people's memories (???), which is retconned and never comes back, and also that he doesn't have an area range to work within.

in the second book, it's implied he can literally change how people think and their thought processes and beliefs as opposed to just literally physically controlling a person's actions.

it's only in the third book that we get the version of mesmering that carries through the series: the one where he can only control a person's physical actions but they are still mentally in control of themselves and can fight his hold.

then in the fourth book, it's officially confirmed that he can't instigate any lasting change, such as having a law signed, because that would involve changing how a person literally thinks rather than just their physical movements. this contradicts what he says in the second book. it's also confirmed he has a people number limit.

then in lodestar, he is again apparently able to control people's thought processes??? unless he was literally physically pushing people out of the way, but the way he says "motivate" implies there's a mental component.

then in nightfall, it's confirmed that he does in fact have an area range that he can't work outside of, contradicting what he said in the first book. oh, boy.

(the version i trust is unlocked, which says that mesmers can control people's actions and behavior, but the person is still conscious and could resist the mesmer's hold, but usually can't. so that lines up with everblaze and beyond.)

[one-with-the-tree]

Are the Clans just stupid? Like, really, really stupid?

Like two kits named Mistykit and Stonekit vanish from ThunderClan and MYSTERIOUSLY AND INEXPLICABLY two kits with the exact same prefixes who look the exact same as the now-vanished Mistykit and Stonekit show up in RiverClan. And nobody questions it one bit.

Like Bluestar and Oakheart or whatever could've at least changed their names but no they were too lazy to try even that. And somehow it worked? Nobody until Fireheart figured it out? And he didn't even know Mistyfoot and Stonefur as kits?

Either Blue and Oak got really, really lucky, or ThunderClan and RiverClan are just dense af. Or maybe a bit of both.

[earlgreycoffee5]

nobody loves ols m o r e than me alright but hear me out- Jane remembered Augie through his knife right??? but how would Jane and August both have known his knife? for Jane to recognize the knife, it should've been after he ran away from home and left Suzette behind, at which point all the letters were being intercepted anyway so it's not like he s e n t his sister a knife?? or he couldn't have given it to suzette directly bc he never went back home. but August said her mom said it belonged to Augie and it's passed down from him?????. am i missing smth here????? HOW DID JANE RECOGNISE THE KNIFE????

[kamiko1234]

Okay but like, am I the only one who just realized that Percy's fatal flaw makes no sense ?

The story told us it's loyalty- and that he may put people he values/loves above more important things in difficult situations. But like- he has already been in two situations like that. I'm still between books right now (finished The Titan's Curse, starting tomorrow with the 4th book) and so far there were two situations that came up where Percy had to choose. One in TLT where Percy had to decide between himself, Annabeth, Grover and his mother to be left behind in the underword. And one in TTC book where he had that one question and he thought about asking Annabeth. Thing was, in both situation he choose the "right" thing and overcame his flaw. In TLt he chose to leave his mother behind since he needed Annabeth and Grover for the quest to save the world more. And in TTC he choose to asked about the monster, not Annabeth. His fatal flaw would see Percy struggle a lot more with these decisions, or even choosing his mother or Annabeth over the world.

But Percy didn't.

He overcame his fatal flaw before it was even a thing.

(Please mark any spoilers in your replies/reblogs so I can avoid them, thank you ^^ )

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

i would love to hear about the scarlet welly boots and/or lesbian art heist

Scarlet Welly Boots was inspired by The Amazing Devil's "Welly Boots," with the premise being an epistolary of "letters" from Cosette to a deceased Jean Valjean keeping him appraised of things in her life and asking him the questions she never got the chance to ask. The story would follow her through the pitfalls of adulthood without a parent figure there to guide and her trials and struggles as she figures out who she is and makes peace with everything that happened.

Dear Dad,

I had my driving exam today.  I passed!  I’m so excited, but it’s weird, because it doesn’t seem like a big deal to anyone else.  

You’re dead now, so it feels petty and annoying to blame my current failings on you, but apparently most students in the US start receiving instruction from their parents from 16, if not before.  I know we took public transit and walked when we could, but we had a car — we had my car, even.  It never occurred to you to talk me through the things you were doing?

It's a premise I really wanna revisit and make work, but at the time I was deeply unhappy with how it was panning out and decided I would need to read more and grow as a writer before I was ready to handle it the way I wanted.

---

Lesbian Art Heist had its first draft around 80% finished before I noticed a MASSIVE plothole that would require a total rewrite to correct for. I'd been writing it for a fic exchange (despite wanting to write the base premise since I first encountered it), and with the deadline looming I ended up abandoning it and drafting up Favour instead.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is a fucking nightmare to smuggle things into for the same reason it’s a nightmare to steal things out of: the place is a glorified vault. When her father had organized the team to steal Degas’s Little Dancer of Fourteen Years, ninety percent of the plan had been causing enough confusion that Montparnasse and Claquesous could move the damned thing out to the main gallery and get it through a sky window without drawing too much attention. In the chaos, Éponine had managed to get Gueulemer to unwittingly help her steal a New Kingdom Egyptian collar from storage that, with any luck, won’t be missed for several more months, and, much more regrettably and almost as an afterthought, one of the Benin Artifacts from where archivists had already packed it up.

Her ears still ring from the phantom pain of Cosette’s anguish that Éponine hadn’t known that the Benin Kingdom was not located in the modern day country of Benin. Look, if six weeks of standing around in the Exhibition Room with them hadn’t told her this, maybe it’s the fault of the exhibit.

Her one saving grace in all of this, Éponine thinks as she takes the now-familiar route up the stairs to where an exhibit on 20th century American jewelry has now replaced the Benin Artifacts, is that they don’t seem to realize yet that they’re missing one of their artifacts. It had, of course, been the logic in the last-second swipe: already weighed, measured, and repackaged, no one would know to miss it until the artifacts were already on the next leg of their global tour, at which point museums would be pointing fingers at the movers rather than assuming it had never been there to start.

‘Germany only finally returned them four years ago!’ Damn, maybe not-Benin shouldn’t have been loaning them out so soon then.

‘You have to return it.’ Éponine thinks the fuck not.

(The plothole had to do with underground tunnels, I'm still Big Mad about it.)