#Jailbreak Maps

[utaesthetics]

JB-Phasma

[slingbacked]

[sevenines]

at the end of the day, one of the biggest reasons why people still argue whether lapis is “justified” or not by trapping jasper in malachite is because people will always love a good comeuppance. you made the first strike, so i will enact revenge on you tenfold.

[thaltro]

Thaltro update! Nightwatchhhh

I know most of you guys don’t care about the Nightwatch AU thing I’m making which is fair cause I barely post about it. But I just wanted to say expect me posting way way more on it. Im so excited with how it’s going, I’ll put out a trailer soon and my final writing for chapter 1 is almost done + I’m doing paneling.

It doesn’t foucus on a singular timeline but more focuses on the interactions of different aus like underverse. This story is mostly based in the omega timeline and I expand and rewrite alot of lore (biology, magic, the map of the utmv, voids, corruption, etc) Nightwatch’ s genre is psychological horror / jailbreak with a heavy focus on characters, with the psychological horror aspect I should give general warnings that it’s 16+ for gore and violence. More in-depth warnings are:

- torture (physical and psychological, specifically medical is the most common in it)

-religious psychological horror

-Suicide, self harm, addiction

If any of those makes you uncomfortable, definitely don’t read it. But yes I’m real excited to post it!! Each chapter is around 4000-5000 words, so pretty long for a monthly update. Character wise it heavily focuses on the bad sanses, dream and ink, and the doctors team. I plan on this project taking a few years to complete, but I’m willing to dedicate that time to it.

Anyways, before I post the trailer just expect me posting concept art more. Decided to post my favourite guy first so here’s the official NW dream concept art. Yay

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

cipher

one-shot

Paring: Demon!Dean x Ex-Spy!Reader

Summary: You've tracked Dean down, and you're going on a hunt with him before you get him back to the bunker to cure him... you didn't anticipate the mission going quite like this.

Warnings: 18+!, language, violence, smut (cunnilingus/oral, p in v, biting, marking), lil bit of pining, I think that's all.

Word Count: 7,215

A/N: I think I got way too into the plot for this one. I don't know if it's actually good, or if I'm just hoping it is. The delusion is real. I've proofread it so many times that I don't even know if it comes across the way I wanted it to anymore. I kinda love Ex-Spy!Reader, she feels so badass to me! And Dean having a soft spot for her is just so yum. All the love.

Shoutout to my lovely @mostlymarvelgirl for the request. <3

The night stretched wide and lawless before you, all ink-black desert and distant starlight, the neon flicker of roadside motels long behind. The Impala prowled down the empty highway, her engine a low, steady growl beneath Dean’s easy grip. The air inside smelled like leather and gun oil, like cigarette smoke curling from the ashtray, like the static hum of something that should not be.

“You’re awful quiet over there, sweetheart.” His voice was silk dragged over gravel, rough in all the right places. “Regretting trading in Sammy for a ride with the devil?”

You rolled your eyes, staring out at the endless stretch of nothing ahead. The music thrumming low from the speakers—Jailbreak by Thin Lizzy—was a little too on the nose.

“This isn’t a trade,” you muttered. “It’s a mission.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, something sharp and indulgent. He tapped his fingers against the wheel in time with the music, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, cutting sideways to study you like a puzzle he was just starting to enjoy solving. “That so?”

You didn’t answer. The truth sat heavy in your chest, unspoken but relentless. You’d left Sam behind, against his wishes, against reason. You’d spent weeks—months—searching for Dean at his side, chasing cold leads, following blood trails gone dry. But when you caught the first real whisper of him—Dean, feral and free—you knew Sam wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. Not yet.

So, you came alone.

One hunt. One last job before you dragged him back kicking and screaming. If you had to.

“Y’know, I gotta say,” Dean mused, his voice dripping with amusement, “I never figured you’d be the type to ditch the Boy Scout routine. But here you are, riding shotgun to hell.”

You scoffed. “You’re not hell.”

He glanced at you then, and something flickered behind his darkened eyes. A smirk ghosted his lips. “Oh, sweetheart. I am.”

The words slithered through you like something half-living, but you forced your expression to stay blank. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you shifted forward, elbows resting on your knees as you studied the map spread across the dash. “Let’s focus, yeah? The base perimeter is covered in infrared sensors, but there’s a blind spot here.” You tapped a point on the page. “Southwest access road. They switch shifts at exactly 0300. Gives us a two-minute window.”

Dean snorted, unimpressed. “And what, we just stroll into Area 51 like we own the place?”

“No.” You smirked now, slow and sharp. “I get us inside.”

Dean’s fingers drummed against the wheel, his gaze dragging over you with something new now—curiosity, suspicion, something darker curling at the edges. Interest.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Colour me intrigued.”

The Impala roared on through the desert, into the dark, into the unknown.

And Dean Winchester—the thing he had become—was watching you now, truly watching, as if he’d just noticed you for the very first time.

The silence stretched between you, thick with static, the kind that only came before a storm. The Impala ate up the miles, gravel crunching beneath her tires as you got closer to the dead zone where no cameras, no patrols, no wandering eyes would catch your approach. You had planned this to the second. Dean didn’t know that yet.

“You wanna tell me something, sweetheart?” His voice was all easy arrogance, but there was something sharper underneath, something restless. “Because I knew you were good, but this? Infrared blind spots, security rotation schedules, access codes? That’s not just ‘good.’ That’s trained.”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes ahead as you checked your watch. “You’re welcome.”

Dean let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “See, that’s what’s got me curious. What else have you been holding out on me, huh? Double life? Secret government clearance? Or are you just that good at looking innocent?” His voice dropped an octave, thick with something shameless. “I gotta say, sweetheart, I always liked the way you played hard to get. Turns out, you’ve been playing me the whole damn time.”

You sighed, already tired of the game. “I had a life before hunting.”

“Yeah? What, Girl Scouts?”

You shot him a look. He grinned, all teeth and danger, like he could smell the past on you, taste the blood you’d once spilled. “Come on, just a little hint. How many bodies you got under your belt? And don’t say it like that—unless you want me to take it that way.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing at your temple. “Jesus, Dean.”

He laughed again, the sound wicked and unrepentant, like he was getting off on rattling you. “Relax, sweetheart. You’ll tell me eventually. I can be real persuasive.”

You ignored him, reaching under the seat and pulling out a small duffel bag, double-checking your gear. Firearms, knives, USB drive, signal jammer. Everything was there.

Dean’s gaze lingered on the bag before flicking back up to you. “You ready for this?”

“Always.”

The car slowed to a crawl, then stopped. The base was still a half-mile out, its outermost fencing barely visible in the distance. You popped the door open, stepping into the cool desert air. The sky above was vast and endless, the stars stretching out like pinpricks in velvet.

Dean followed, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied sigh. “Man, I love a good break-in. All this sneaking around, you and me against the world—kinda romantic, don’t you think?”

You shot him a flat look. “No.”

Dean smirked, undeterred. “You wound me.”

You adjusted the strap of your bag, eyes locked on the target ahead. “Let’s get this done.”

Dean fell into step beside you, too damn pleased with himself. “Whatever you say, agent.”

And just like that, the hunt began.

The desert stretched wide and restless, sand whispering beneath your boots as you moved quick and quiet, the fencing of the base looming closer with every step. The night was deep, black and bottomless, the air still, thick with the taste of metal and heat.

Dean, of course, wasn’t in any damn hurry.

You could hear him behind you, his steps unhurried, his pace easy—too easy. You glanced back over your shoulder and there he was, swaggering along like the clock wasn’t ticking, like you hadn’t calculated exactly how long you had before the 0300 shift change. He was enjoying this, the slow burn of the night, the game of it all, like you weren’t minutes away from breaking into a goddamn government black site.

“Dean,” you hissed, turning just enough to glare at him. “Will you move?”

He smirked, hands slipping into his jacket pockets like this was just another night at the bar, like you weren’t both trespassing on one of the most classified pieces of land in the country.

“I’d hurry up if you told me a little truth, sweetheart,” he said, voice lazy, full of knowing. “You got all these tricks up your sleeve, all these little secrets. Figured if I just let you keep talking, you’d let something slip.”

You let out a sharp breath, whipping back around to focus on the path ahead. “We do not have time for this, Winchester. Pull your fucking socks up and get over here.”

Dean chuckled, unbothered. “Come on, sweetheart. Indulge me. I’m over here biting, and you’re just stomping your feet and walking away from me.”

You didn’t respond. You just picked up the pace, keeping your head down, eyes sharp as you scanned the perimeter.

Dean let out a low whistle, and you knew—you knew—he was grinning before he even spoke.

“Not that I mind watching you walk away.”

You bristled, but you didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. “Will you get a fucking move on? And quit staring at my ass, you pervert.”

Dean barked out a laugh, the sound rich, smug as hell. “Sweetheart, I will never stop looking at your ass. I couldn’t before, and I’m even less inclined to now.”

Your jaw clenched, but you refused to give him the reaction he wanted. You kept your eyes forward, scanning for the fence, for the guard rotations, for anything that might throw off your window.

Dean, of course, stayed a few steps behind, watching you like a wolf circling prey. But there was something else in his stare, something weighing in the air between you—like he was unraveling something, pulling at a thread he didn’t even know was there until tonight.

Then, up ahead—the fence.

Immediately, you slowed, your body shifting into something quieter, something sharper. Dean, for all his cocky swagger, matched your movements, years of instinct settling into place. The smirk dimmed—not gone, just tempered.

You both stopped just short of the chain-link, shadows stretching long beneath the red-washed floodlights in the distance.

The fence was just the beginning.

You moved quickly, cutting across the sand like a shadow, every step calculated, every movement designed for silence. The cold metal of the bolt cutters bit into your palm as you crouched at the weak point in the chain-link, slicing through with precision. The wind carried the sound away, swallowed it into the vastness of the desert.

Dean? He was watching. Not helping—just leaning against a rock, grinning like he had all the time in the world.

“Gotta say, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice thick with amusement. “It’s kinda sexy watching you work. All that focus. If I’d known you were good with your hands, I’d have put you to better use sooner.”

Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t look at him. “Do me a favour, Dean?"

"Anything for you."

"Shut up.”

He chuckled low, dark. “So bossy.”

The last wire snapped, and you pushed the cut section aside. “Go.”

Dean sauntered past, movements slow and deliberate, like you weren’t pressed for time. The shift change was minutes away, and he was acting like you had the luxury of waiting for an engraved invitation.

You both slipped through, boots sinking into the dry dirt. The yard stretched out ahead of you—open space, floodlights sweeping slow arcs across the terrain. Your pulse pounded steady, controlled, as you scanned the movements of the guards.

One lingered by a utility post, his attention half-there, fingers tapping against his radio. Still awake. Still watching.

Dean let out a dramatic sigh. “This part’s boring. Could just rip his spine out, y’know. Save us the trouble.”

You shot him a sharp look. “We’re doing this clean.”

Dean made a face. “Boring.”

Ignoring him, you pulled a knife from your belt, slipping through the shadows. The guard barely had time to react—your arm wrapped tight around his neck, cutting off his air, your knife cold against his throat. He struggled for a second, then slumped, unconscious before he hit the ground. You eased him down, silent, calculated.

A slow whistle cut through the night.

You turned to see Dean watching you with something new in his gaze—something dark, considering.

“Huh,” he muttered.

You wiped your blade clean. “What?”

Dean’s smirk was pure sin. “No wonder Sammy likes you. You’re just as bossy.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, just grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him along. He let you, but you felt the tension in his arm, the sheer thrill humming beneath his skin. He was enjoying this. The hunt, the danger, the way you took control. It fed something in him.

The access panel was ahead—a reinforced security door, glowing red from the keycard reader embedded in the steel. You crouched in front of it, pulling a small device from your bag, fingers moving fast as you hacked into the system.

Dean crouched beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him. “You’ve definitely done this before.”

You ignored him, pressing a final command. The panel flickered, beeped twice. The lock disengaged with a soft hiss.

Dean let out a low chuckle. “Damn. I think I might be in love.”

You shoved him inside before the cameras caught you both. The air changed the second you stepped in. The hallway was sterile, humming with artificial light. Too cold. Too still. Your instincts screamed wrong.

Blood streaked the floor. Old, dark smears leading toward reinforced doors lining the corridor.

Dean stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, head tilting like he was listening for something just beneath the surface. The Mark of Cain was humming—you could feel the shift in him, the way his grip flexed around the handle of his blade.

“This isn’t just a science lab,” you murmured.

Dean’s voice was low, sharp. “No shit.”

Then, a sound. A low growl. Chains rattling.

You turned the corner and stopped short. A containment cell. Reinforced glass, lined with sigils, locking something inside. A demon. Bound, trapped, black eyes flickering in the dim light.

It looked at Dean. And smiled.

“Oh… you’re gonna love what they’ve got planned for you, Winchester.”

Dean’s jaw twitched, his fingers flexing around the First Blade.

You exhaled, steadying yourself. “What the hell does that mean?”

Dean didn’t answer. But you knew, with sudden, sinking certainty—this just got a lot worse.

The air was thick between you, tension coiling tight as you moved deeper into the facility, boots silent against the cold floor. The metallic tang of blood still lingered in the sterile air, clinging to the walls, the floors, the past sins of whatever had gone down in this place. You were focused, pushing forward, calculating the next steps.

Dean? He was right behind you. Close. Too close.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped your instincts into place. A security patrol, moving fast. You barely had a second to react before you grabbed Dean by the sleeve and pulled him into the nearest alcove—narrow, tight, barely enough space for two people.

His body pressed against yours, broad, solid, immovable. Your back hit the cold metal wall, his arms bracketing you in before you could shove him off. The patrol passed, their voices muffled, footsteps fading. But Dean didn’t move.

He was watching you.

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, teasing, “I always knew you had a thing for me.”

You stiffened, forcing your hands to stay still at your sides, resisting the urge to shove him away. “Bullshit.”

Dean smirked, lazy and knowing. “Come on. You think I didn’t notice? All those nights? All those close calls?”

Your breath hitched. The memories hit harder.

Nights in the Impala, the heat of his arm against yours, the way he looked at you over the rim of a whiskey glass in shitty motel rooms, that night in the bunker when the power was out and neither of you had slept, the way his voice had gone softer, the way you’d almost closed the space between you.

Almost.

Dean leaned in, the heat of him sinking into your skin, the scent of leather and something darker curling around you. “You wanted me then,” he said, voice like velvet dragged over gravel. “And you want me now.”

His fingers trailed up your arm, slow, deliberate. Your breath faltered. You hated that he could pull this reaction out of you. Hated that he was right.

“Difference is…” His lips barely brushed the shell of your ear. “Now, there’s nothing stopping you.”

Your hands clenched into fists. He was right. There was nothing stopping you.

Except yourself.

The space between you was razor-thin, your pulse slamming against your ribs. He was warm, too warm. The Mark of Cain hummed beneath his skin, an energy that wrapped around you, that pulled. It would be so easy. So easy to give in, to let this happen, to drown in him like you’d wanted to all those times before.

Dean knew it too. His smirk deepened, eyes half-lidded, drinking in the way your breath came short, the way your resolve wavered for just a second.

“All you gotta do is say the word, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ll make you forget everything else.”

For a moment, you almost did.

Then the alarm blared.

The sharp wail cut through the air like a knife, echoing off the walls. Your body jerked, snapping back into reality, into focus. You shoved Dean back, hard, your breath coming fast as you ripped yourself free of the heat, the pull, the inevitable crash.

Dean only laughed, breathless, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Like he knew. Like he had felt you falter. Like he had already won something, even if he hadn’t.

You didn’t look at him. You turned, took off down the hallway, gun drawn, senses sharpened by adrenaline and something worse.

Dean’s voice followed you, smug as hell. “You almost had me, sweetheart.”

You clenched your jaw and didn’t answer. Because the worst part? He was right.

The servers hummed, their glow casting eerie shadows along the walls, sterile blue light cutting through the darkness. Your fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, bypassing encrypted firewalls, dismantling layers of government-grade security like you’d been doing it your entire life.

Because you had.

Dean was right behind you. Too close. The heat of him, the weight of him, pressing in without touching. His breath, slow and measured, just over your shoulder. Every shift of his stance brought him against you—chest grazing your back, hips nearly flush with yours, his hands braced on the desk on either side of you, caging you in like you were his favourite game to play.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was low, thick, dangerous, “if you keep wiggling that sweet little ass in front of me, I’m gonna have to do something about it.”

Your fingers faltered for just a second. Just enough for Dean to chuckle, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“Focus, Winchester,” you bit out, forcing yourself to keep typing, to ignore the molten pull in your stomach.

Dean smirked against your skin. “Oh, I am. Just not on the same thing as you.”

He shifted slightly—just enough to let you feel how hard he was, how much he was enjoying this. It was deliberate, teasing, a slow drag against the base of your spine that had your breath catching in your throat before you could stop it.

Dean groaned, low and knowing. “Son of a bitch, you’re so focused. So determined. Bet you're like this in bed, too.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively, body betraying you. He noticed. Of course he did.

“Y’know, sweetheart…” His voice dropped, gravel-slick and dark. “I’ve been real patient. But if you keep looking at that screen like that, I’m gonna bend you over this desk and make you look at me instead.”

A violent shudder raked through you before you could control it. You hated how much he affected you, how much he always had—but never like this. Not when he was himself, not when there were still lines left between you. But now? Now there were no lines, no rules. Just hunger. Just Dean, burning through you like something primal, something inevitable.

A slow smirk curled at the edge of his lips. He had you. He knew he had you.

“See?” He murmured. “There it is.”

You gritted your teeth, forcing your attention back to the screen. The firewall fell, one last keystroke giving you access to the files you needed. You yanked a USB drive from your pocket and shoved it into the port, transferring everything at once.

The sound of boots against tile made your breath hitch.

Dean’s head snapped toward the hallway, that razor-sharp smirk curving into something feral. “Well, finally.”

You barely had time to pull the drive free before the first guard entered the room.

Dean was on him before the poor bastard could draw his weapon. A brutal crack of bone, the sickening sound of a body hitting the ground, and then chaos erupted.

Dean moved like a storm, his body fluid, effortless, deadly. Fast. Brutal. His hands wrapped around a man’s throat, squeezing until the gasps stopped, until there was no sound left but the dull thump of a corpse hitting the floor.

You pivoted, sidestepping a punch, snapping your attacker’s wrist before driving your knee into his solar plexus. His choked wheeze barely left his lips before you finished him, one sharp twist of his neck sending him crumpling at your feet.

Another guard charged you, but you were faster. A swift strike to his throat, a kick to his knee, and he was down.

Across the room, Dean was enjoying himself. The way he moved was almost beautiful—graceful, effortless violence, an executioner painting in blood. He laughed as he drove his blade into the last man standing, eyes black, lips curled in something akin to ecstasy.

And then silence.

You stood there, chest heaving, the scent of iron thick in the air, bodies littering the floor around you. Blood smeared across your arm, cooling against your skin.

Dean turned toward you, his own chest rising and falling, a bead of blood rolling down his cheek. He licked it away absently, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Then, that slow, wolfish smirk.

“Now, that’s my girl.”

Your pulse slammed against your ribs. Your fingers curled into fists. And God help you, because you wanted him.

You wanted him.

The scent of blood still clung to the air, thick and metallic, the only sound the distant hum of the servers and the cooling bodies scattered across the floor.

You exhaled, steadying yourself as you wiped a smear of crimson from your cheek. Dean was still grinning, tongue darting out to catch the remnants of someone else’s blood from his lips.

“Alright,” you muttered, adjusting your grip on your weapon. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Dean wiped his blade clean against the sleeve of his jacket, casting a glance back toward the containment cells. “And what about our little friend?”

You followed his gaze. The demon, still trapped behind reinforced glass, watching, waiting. The thing had known him—really known him. And that alone made it dangerous.

“We kill it.” Your voice was even, steady. Uncompromising. “Before it gets the chance to tell someone worse that you’re here.”

Dean hummed low in his throat, rolling his shoulders, considering. “Alright. We gank it.”

Then, suddenly, he was in your space.

A shift of movement, a blur of predatory grace, and you barely had time to react before your back hit cold metal, his body pressing in, caging you between solid muscle and unyielding steel. His hands braced against the wall on either side of you, his breath warm against your jaw.

“But first…” he drawled, slow and deliberate, the syllables curling like smoke.

Your pulse kicked.

The heat in his eyes wasn’t just hunger—it was something sharper, something honed, something starving. The grin he gave you was pure demon, sharp at the edges, an animal baring its teeth before the bite.

“You gonna tell me how the hell you know how to do all this?” His voice was velvet and gravel, his eyes black for the briefest flicker before they burned back to green.

You pressed your hands against his chest, trying to create space. “We don’t have time for this, Dean.”

A mistake.

The second you touched him, his hand slid down your side, slow, deceptively soft, trailing over the curve of your waist, an echo of something before. A memory of who he used to be, before the Mark, before he died and came back, before this. But it was tainted now, something darker curling beneath it, something that sent a shiver up your spine for an entirely different reason.

Dean caught it. He felt it.

His smirk deepened, voice dropping to something molten. “Oh, sweetheart…”

His other hand ghosted up your arm, fingers brushing along your collarbone, featherlight, teasing, coaxing. His hips barely, barely rocked forward, pressing against you in a way that had you biting the inside of your cheek to keep your breath steady. His lips ghosted yours, not quite a kiss, just a warning, a promise, a test of how much you could take.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured. “The sooner you do, the sooner we can get the hell out of here.”

You refused to react. Refused to give him the satisfaction.

Dean chuckled, dark and knowing. “C’mon, sweetheart. You’re so hot when you’re trying not to fall apart on me.” He tilted his head, lips nearly brushing yours. “Got me all worked up.”

Your breath stuttered, but you forced yourself to scoff. “It’s the goddamn Mark that’s got you worked up, not me.”

His teeth flashed, a sharp grin. “Can’t it be both?”

You clenched your jaw, twisting to try and slip out from beneath him. But he was faster—his hand shot up, catching the back of your neck, pivoting you before you could break free. Your breath hitched as he turned you back toward him, holding you firm, his grip possessive but not bruising.

This time, when he leaned in, it was almost sweet.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost coaxing now, but the danger still coiled beneath his tone. “Tell me who the hell you are.”

The silence stretched between you like a wire pulled too tight, humming with tension, ready to snap. Dean still pressed against you, his body warm, solid, caging you in, waiting for the answer he already knew was going to wreck him.

You swallowed hard. There was no getting out of this.

“I wasn’t always a hunter.”

Dean’s expression flickered—smugness didn’t leave, but something sharpened in his gaze, something interested.

“No shit, sweetheart. I figured that part out an hour ago.”

Your jaw tensed. You exhaled through your nose, steady, controlled. “I was something else before this. Something that didn’t exist on paper. Someone the government made sure didn’t exist.”

Dean let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

His grip on your hip tightened, his fingers digging in—not hurting, just holding. Keeping you right there. “You were a fed?”

You shook your head. “No. I was a ghost. Someone they used, someone they cut loose when I wasn’t useful anymore.”

Dean went silent.

Not because he didn’t believe you. Not because he needed time to process. But because he was pissed.

His nostrils flared, his jaw tightening before he let out a slow exhale. His grip on you flexed. His voice, when it came, was calm. Too calm.

“And when exactly were you planning on telling me?” He tilted his head slightly, eyes dark, unreadable. “Or were you just gonna keep playing house with me and Sammy, keep your little secret tucked away while we ran around thinking we knew you?”

His words cut deeper than you expected. Your throat tightened, but you pushed past it. “It didn’t matter.”

Dean let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh. “Bullshit.”

His hand moved—trailing up your side, slow, dragging over your ribs, over the curve of your waist, something deceptively soft, something dangerous.

“I mean, damn, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice curling like smoke. “You’ve been lying to us this whole damn time. Playing the innocent little hunter, when really, you’ve been something else completely.”

His fingers found your collarbone, tracing it, his touch featherlight. His other hand braced against the wall beside your head, his chest flush with yours. His head dipped lower, his lips ghosting over your cheek, close, so close.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, almost to himself. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Your breath caught. Your body betrayed you, muscles coiling, heat licking at your spine.

Dean felt it.

His smirk deepened, his nose brushing against yours. “All this time… you let me think I was the dangerous one.”

His teeth scraped against the shell of your ear, slow, deliberate, like he wanted to savour the way your breath hitched, the way you shivered.

“Turns out, you were just waiting for the right moment to show me who you really are.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Dean.”

The warning in your voice was weak.

Dean chuckled, the sound low and knowing. His hand moved lower, pressing at the dip of your spine, his thigh slipping between yours just enough to make your heartbeat hammer against your ribs.

“I should be pissed,” he murmured. “Hell, I am pissed.”

Then his voice dipped lower, rougher, thick with something twisted.

“But right now? I don’t know if I wanna punish you for keeping that from me…”

He shifted, his thigh pressing against you, his fingers digging just slightly into your hip.

“Or if I wanna fuck you stupid for it.”

The breath in your lungs turned sharp, jagged. You barely had time to register what he said before—

A snarl cut through the air.

You both turned, the spell breaking just enough for clarity to sink back in.

The demon.

It grinned at you from behind reinforced glass, its black eyes glinting with something cruel. “Oh, at least get to the good part. I'm dying from the suspense.”

Dean’s expression snapped. His eyes went black, full demon now, no hesitation, no warning.

Your breath came fast as you shoved at his chest, creating space. Focus. Reset.

“We kill it.” Your voice was steady, controlled, back in the moment.

Dean’s fingers flexed around his knife. His grin was something wicked, something feral.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck. “That?”

His gaze locked onto the demon, full of promise.

“That part? I was looking forward to.”

The containment cell’s glow flickered, unstable, as your blade scraped through some of the painted sigils. The moment the etched line severed, the air shifted—the energy that had been holding the demon in place cracked like shattered glass.

And then? All hell broke loose.

The demon surged forward, its body snapping into motion, black eyes gleaming with something wicked.

Dean was faster.

He caught it mid-air, slamming it back against the glass, the impact sending a violent crack through the reinforced surface. His grip tightened around its throat, his knife pressing just beneath its jaw. The demon choked out a strangled laugh, its teeth glinting with amusement even as its body twitched in pain.

“Oh, you really are gone, aren’t you?” It sneered, voice syrupy with mock sympathy. “Tell me, Dean—how long until you tear her apart too?”

Dean’s smirk was slow, deliberate, dark. “Nah. You first.”

And then, he drove the blade home.

The demon’s body seized, eyes going wide as the blade burned through it like fire, deep and precise. A raw, guttural scream tore from its throat as black smoke spewed from its mouth, curling and writhing, before dispersing into nothing. The body crumpled, empty, dead.

Silence fell, heavy and sharp. The only sound was the distant hum of alarms, the blood pounding in your ears.

Dean exhaled, slow and controlled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the high of the kill. But when he turned to face you, his breath was still uneven, his pupils blown wide, eyes dark with something else entirely.

“That,” he murmured, voice thick, “was fucking hot.”

Your jaw tightened, forcing yourself to ignore the way your stomach twisted. The way his words sent something unsteady through your veins.

“We need to go.”

Dean tilted his head, his smirk curling at the edges. “Oh, now you wanna leave? Could’ve fooled me a minute ago.”

You pushed past him, your body still vibrating with adrenaline, but he was faster. His hand snapped out, catching your wrist, dragging you back.

Your breath hitched as he pivoted you, pressing in close, his grip firm but not bruising. His thumb dragged slow across your pulse point, tracing the heat beneath your skin. His eyes—still dark, still predatory—searched yours, something unreadable flickering in the depths.

“You and me?” His voice was a whisper now, low and dangerous. “We’re not done talking about this.”

The way he said it sent a thrill down your spine.

Then, he tugged you forward, and you ran. Out of the facility, through the silent, blood-soaked hallways, past the bodies left in your wake. You weren’t sure whether you were running from the guards, or from something worse—

But you knew exactly where you were going.

Back to the Impala. And if the heat still crackling between you was anything to go by? The Impala was about to get very steamed up.

The second you reached the car, Dean snapped.

He caught your wrist, spinning you, yanking you against him. Your bodies collided, the heat of the fight still burning through your skin, through your veins. Then his mouth crashed against yours—hungry, violent, claiming.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were on you, gripping, taking. He lifted you clean off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his fingers dug into your thighs. Then? He threw you down onto the hood of the Impala.

The cold metal bit into your back, but you barely felt it. Not with the way Dean was moving—possessive, relentless, mouth trailing over your jaw, throat, dragging his teeth across your pulse like he wanted to mark you from the inside out.

You gasped against him, high on adrenaline, on him, on this.

His breath was ragged, his hands tore at clothes, fingers curling in fabric, tugging, desperate. His mouth sealed over yours again, heat and hunger pouring into the kiss, like he’d been waiting for this for years and now? Now, there was nothing stopping him.

Between frantic kisses, you tried to pull yourself together, tried to form words, tried to push logic through the thick haze of lust clouding your mind. “Dean—” you gasped, gripping his biceps, nails biting into his skin.

He growled, low and dangerous, pressing harder against you. The metal beneath you creaked.

“We need to get out of here.”

Dean didn’t answer—not immediately. His mouth was too busy burning a path down your throat, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding under your jacket, tracing the heat of your skin like he was memorising it.

“Dean.” Your voice wasn’t steady anymore.

He snarled but pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze. His pupils were blown, his breath ragged, his lips red from kissing, his whole body radiating heat.

His frustration dripped from every inch of him. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your waist before—“Fucking fine.”

Then he yanked you off the hood, dragged you to the passenger door, and shoved you inside.

The road was dark. The Impala tore through the night, dirt kicking up behind her, tires spinning, the growl of the engine mirroring the hunger burning between the two of you.

Inside? Everything was red.

The dash lights bled crimson into the dim interior. The blood still clinging to your skin smelled red, thick and metallic, still warm. The heat was red. The tension was red. The want, the ache, the hunger—

Red.

Dean drove like a maniac. One hand white-knuckling the wheel, the other? On you. His palm burned against your thigh, fingers gripping too tight, too possessive. His thumb stroked slow circles, teasing, dangerous.

The tension coiled, winding tighter and tighter as his fingers drifted higher, pressing between your legs, rubbing slow, lazy circles through your clothes.

Your breath stuttered.

Dean smirked. Didn’t even look at you. Just kept driving, eyes locked on the dark road ahead, dust swirling in the Impala’s rearview.

The only indication he felt anything? The way his fingers flexed, pressing harder, deliberate, testing.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sit up straighter, forcing yourself to breathe. “Dean—”

“Shh.” His voice was wrecked, a low, dangerous thing. Dark and knowing. His fingers curled, pressing against your clothed-cunt in slow, taunting circles.

“Focus on the road,” you warned, voice weaker than you wanted it to be.

Dean laughed—low, dark, full of sin. “Oh, sweetheart,” he rasped, pressing harder, watching your legs tense beneath his touch.

“I am focused.” His fingers drifted higher. “Just not on the same thing as you.”

The same words he'd said not an hour ago. The heat between you, unbearable now. The red inside the car felt suffocating, thick with blood, lust, adrenaline, the echo of the kill still fresh between you.

Then, suddenly, Dean yanked the wheel.

The Impala spun into the motel parking lot, tires screeching against gravel. Dust clouded the air, swirling in red as he slammed the brakes, throwing the car into park.

Silence.

Your breath was uneven, heart hammering against your ribs like a living thing desperate for escape. Dean’s hand was still on your thigh. The weight of it sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he turned his head, eyes dark, mouth parted, still hungry.

His voice? Raw. Shattered. Starved.

“Get in the back.”

The neon sign outside the motel bled red through the Impala’s windows, pulsing like a heartbeat, like a warning, like the last gasp before everything went up in flames. The air was thick inside the car—too hot, too heavy, too full of everything that had been simmering between you and Dean for years, and now? Now it was finally spilling over.

Your pulse hammered. You glanced at the motel, the vacancy sign flickering. “Dean, there’s a motel right there.”

His grin was wicked, smug as sin. “Oh, sweetheart. You think I’m not gonna take you in there after?” He leaned in, breath hot against your ear. “But right now? I wanna fuck you in my car to make up for lost time.”

A full-body shiver rolled through you. Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

“Okay.”

You turned, already shifting over the front bench, crawling between the seats—

And then? Teeth. A sharp, stinging bite to your ass, hard enough to make you yelp.

Dean laughed, low and sinful, the sound curling into your bones. “Fuck, you sound sweet when you squeal, sweetheart.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, breathless. “You’re a goddamn menace.”

His smirk deepened. “And you love it.”

Your stomach flipped, heat pooling low, but you ignored it, settling into the backseat. Dean followed with his eyes, watching you strip. Your jacket hit the floor first. Your fingers hooked into your jeans, sliding them down, slow.

Dean? Absolutely gone.

His gaze dragged down, locked onto the darkened fabric between your legs. And then? He laughed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re already soaked.”

Your face burned. “Shut up, Dean.”

His smirk turned feral. “Why? You embarrassed?” He reached out, dragging a single taunting finger over the damp cotton. “This all for me?”

You swatted his hand away. “Get your ass back here already.”

And just like that? He was on you. The second he climbed into the backseat, his lips crashed into yours, devouring. His hands were everywhere—gripping, possessing, dragging you closer, tighter, deeper.

He was growling between kisses, voice wrecked, rasping against your lips. “You don’t get it, do you?”

His teeth scraped over your jaw, down your throat.

“How bad I’ve wanted this.”

His hands dug into your thighs, spreading them.

“How many nights I had to sneak out to the Impala to jerk off while we were sharing motel rooms.”

Your breath stuttered.

Dean groaned, mouth trailing lower.

“Had to listen to you breathing soft in the next bed over while I was out here in this backseat, picturing what you’d sound like if I got my hands on you.”

Your fingers knotted into his hair, tugging.

Dean laughed, breathless, wrecked, desperate. His fingers curled against the waistband of your panties, tugging, teasing.

“You got any idea what you do to me?”

His breath was hot against your stomach. His fingers dragged down, slow, deliberate, teasing.

“Gonna show you, sweetheart.”

He pushed the soaked fabric to the side, spreading you with his fingers, sliding inside—

Slow. Deep. Deliberate.

Your head slammed back against the door. Dean let out a low, guttural groan, watching the way you took him, watching the way your body clenched around his fingers, warm and tight and perfect.

“Jesus. You’re taking me so fucking easy.”

His other hand braced against your thigh, spreading you open further, locking you down. Your breath came sharp, eyes fluttering closed—

And Dean tutted. His fingers curled inside you, pressing just right. Your head snapped back down, locking eyes with him.

His smirk burned through you. “Look at me, sweetheart. Don’t you dare shut those pretty eyes.”

Your breath hitched, body trembling as heat licked at your spine, tension pulling tighter, tighter. Then his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Perfect.

You shattered. The orgasm hit fast, blinding, an electric shock rolling through every inch of you. Dean moaned against you, greedy, devouring, drinking in every shudder, every gasp. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you there, keeping you open as he licked you clean.

“That’s it. That’s my fucking girl.”

Your whole body was trembling, still pulsing from the aftershocks. And before you could even think, before your breath could even settle—Dean was moving. He was up, towering over you, pupils blown, lips slick. His hands shoved his jeans down just enough. His cock—thick, flushed, dripping—sprang free.

Your stomach flipped.

He grabbed himself, dragging the head over you, teasing, coating himself in your slick.

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart.” He was breathless, trembling with restraint. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

He lined up, pressing just barely inside. His hands braced against your hips, locking you down. His voice was wrecked, raw, full of everything he’d held back for too damn long.

“I’m gonna make you mine.”

Then? He thrust all the way in. No hesitation. And the whole world went red.

The Impala had seen things. Bloodstains in the leather, bullet holes patched over, the ghosts of too many hunts clinging to her frame. But never this. Never you and him, tangled in the backseat, drenched in sweat and moonlight and the neon red bleeding through the windows like a prophecy fulfilled.

The air inside the car was stifling—thick with heat, with want, with the gravity of inevitability.

Dean’s grip on your hips was bruising, fingers digging in, possessive, reverent, like he was anchoring himself to something holy. His cock buried deep, stretching you, filling every aching space inside of you, and he groaned—low, shattered, wrecked.

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart. You were made for me.”

His hands moved like scripture, tracing the lines of your body like they held secrets only he was meant to read. Deciphering you. Cracking you open. Like you were a code that needed breaking, a secret written in heat and moans and teeth against skin.

The slow, devastating pull of his hips turned brutal, sharp. Each thrust was a translation, a revelation.

“Always knew this would happen.” His voice was dark, desperate, too far gone.

His forehead pressed against yours, breath hot, body burning. “Didn’t know when, didn’t know how, but fuck—”

His teeth scraped along your jaw, down your throat, biting down just enough to make you arch.

“Knew you’d be mine one day.”

His tongue soothed where he bit, but his hands were still unrelenting, gripping your hips, keeping you open for him, keeping you his.

“You are mine, aren’t you?”

Your breath stuttered, head tipping back, body drowning in sensation, in him. Dean pulled back just enough to see you—really see you—waiting for the answer. Your lips parted, but you could barely find the air to speak. Every thrust pulled something loose inside you, something sacred.

“I’m yours, Dean.”

The sound he made? Fucking primal.

He lost it. His thrusts turned desperate, ruthless, chasing something just beyond reach. His mouth was everywhere—on your throat, your jaw, your collarbone, sucking bruises into your skin, biting down like a claim, a vow, a goddamn brand.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Say it again.”

Your fingers clawed at his back, at his hair, at anything you could hold onto.

“I’m yours.”

Dean groaned, the sound ripped straight from his chest.

His thumb pressed against your clit—circling, teasing, knowing. The pressure built, hot, unbearable, climbing higher, higher, higher. Then his tongue was at your ear, whispering filth, destruction, devotion.

“Gonna come for me, baby? Come on my cock while I tell you how fucking obsessed I am with you?”

It broke you. The orgasm was violent, raw, dragging you under and ripping you apart at the same time.

Dean groaned, thrusts stuttering, control slipping. His teeth sank into the curve of your shoulder, muffling the sound of his own wreckage as he followed you over the edge. His release filled you, marking you, making you his from the inside out.

The Impala sat still, silent but for the ragged breathing between you, the echo of what just happened still heavy in the air.

Dean was still inside you, still panting against your throat. His lips pressed a slow, almost tender kiss over the bruise he just left.

“Never letting you go now, sweetheart.”

You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. You knew—deep in your bones, deep in the red-tinted dark of the car—that he meant it. That he was never going to let you go. And that you never wanted him to.

But now you had to figure out how to get Dean back to the bunker, back to Sam, so that you could cure him. You knew how to crack a system, how to break through firewalls, how to decode the things that were never meant to be seen.

But Dean Winchester was a cipher you weren’t sure you’d ever fully solve.

taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @kayleighwinchester @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads <3

[loquaciousquark]

Tonight's misadventures: I'm on the way to the park fight, and as I'm navigating I accidentally click a red-outlined sunmelon piece laid out on a picnic blanket. Astarion obediently steals it in broad daylight, rakish fool that he is, and the Fist standing just on the other side of the path is furious. Because I've already been caught stealing something in this zone, my only options are to go to jail, bribe the guard, and attack.

The bribe suggested is 3650 gp for one sunmelon piece.

(created by @fistfulofgammarays, registered genius)

Because I refuse to pay that, off Astarion goes to jail. The Emperor yells at me for losing the stones, all my meticulous hotbar mapping is erased, the companions start chilling in the park, the usual. While I'm pondering how I want to escape (Tav got thrown in this prison like five times in a row last run), I have Astarion idly start whistling. He got the proficiency from Alfira in the grove, and apparently he's good.

In fact, he's so good he passes his performance check. Next thing I know, in comes the nearest guard--entering through the locked cell door--to enjoy this impromptu concert.

Fist Smithwynn is entranced. He nods along beatifically. He praises Astarion's whistling. When he's done, he throws a coin at Astarion's feet and goes to leave the cell.

Well, I can't let that slide without trying, right? I crouch and sneak out just behind him as he unlocks the door, not really expecting to get much farther than that, and sure enough, Astarion is caught immediately outside the cell. However, because it's his first jailbreak, he's allowed to make a Persuasion check that "Haven't I been punished enough? I'm very sorry," which he passes with a 28 on a 15 DC. Off Astarion goes with a commuted sentence, waving at the guards as he blithely strolls away, bound for freedom.

Except on the way out, I notice the Evidence Chest in the back corner now has something in it. Out of curiosity, I pause to take a peek, and what's in there except THE SUNMELON PIECE THAT STARTED EVERYTHING.

I took it.

[vynxwave]

EarthSpark Starscream & the Tunnels

An aspect that I feel has gone largely unrecognized despite its importance and relevance to S2 is Starscream beginning his plan with the tunnels in S1E21 “What Dwells Within”, so I figured I’d make a post dedicated to it!

I'll also be going over how Terratronus was subtly alluded to/referenced in S1E24 "The Last Hope" as well as expanded upon and called back to in S2, along with any other relevant callbacks.

At the beginning of S1E21 "What Dwells Within" Starscream has assumed leadership of the Decepticons here (as based on his and Swindle's dialogue, and Starscream specifically having been the one to blast them an exit into this route) and it's revealed that he had devised a plan for their escape from GHOST's detention center (we saw him first scheming in S1E08 "Decoy"). This jailbreak is only the first part of his plan.

When flying with Nova Storm and Skywarp into the tunnels, Starscream tells them:

“These tunnels are ancient, predating GHOST and this whole pathetic town.”

Starscream should not know this about the tunnels because he's been imprisoned for who knows how long and information about the tunnels is not freely accessible or widely known (see: Croft mention later in this post). But he does know this about the tunnels, because he has intentionally and purposefully sought out this information about the tunnels.

He's sharing this information because he's briefing his Seekers in relation to what he has planned — because the tunnels are an integral part of his plan (as we'd later see come to fruition in S2).

If the Seekers were using these tunnels as an escape route, he would have no reason to even have or share such information about them; the Witwicky Ranger Station exit route that Swindle used prior in S1E18 "Disarmed" is not their destination.

Nova Storm rushes ahead and flies deeper into the tunnels after Starscream's briefing. She transforms to stop where the tunnels split into opposite directions, as her map shows here:

The tunnel to the left is visible, and it's a dead end:

Which leaves only the tunnel to the right — the cave system entrance!:

The Seekers ending up here by the cave entrance was not incidental: they were deliberately heading to the cave system entrance in accordance with Starscream's planning.

Nova Storm had blasted ahead and visibly passed another branch of the tunnel without pause because this was her destination; Skywarp chided her for using sonic booms because a cave-in right at the cave entrance would be an inconvenience to Starscream's plan.

At GHOST HQ when Megatron starts to make a plan involving a retrieval team going into the tunnels, Croft cuts him off to tell him it'd be pointless because the Seekers went into an "unmapped cave system", and that they should use their energon scanners for when they resurface.

Croft disregards Megatron's urgency and forbids them from going down into the tunnels with a grave tone: "No one is to go down into the tunnels. Do you understand me?" (which is accompanied by the ominous GHOST leitmotif), alluding that she knows more than she's letting on — in fact, she is intentionally keeping them in the dark.

Back with the group in the cave tunnels, the shot framing and SFX calls attention to the map of the cave system that Starscream has here (he's also positioned in front, leading the group) because it directly contradicts Croft's claim of the cave system being "unmapped". This map is even labelled! (This disproof adds to Croft's/GHOST's shadiness as built up throughout S1.)

(Relevant to Croft having information kept secret that's of interest to Starscream, Starscream would later want specific information he knows Croft has on her hard drive in S2E03 "Control Alt Delete")

One thing I'm curious about is Starscream deliberately turning right instead of continuing straight when the Dweller begins chasing the group — he had his eyes on the map recently, so was he intending to head for the map room right then and there? (Could it have been that he hoped the others would keep the Dweller busy, allowing himself to find the exit and escape?)

It's interesting that Starscream identifies the map room as a "central hub" and not just a map room (Nightshade identifies it as "some sort of map room") — it suggests Starscream has some recognition of what this cave is.

I want to make an important note that the Maltos/Terrans, including Hashtag, are never aware of Starscream's planning here. What Hashtag challenges here is his selfishness and his belligerent authority (as portrayed throughout this episode to this point) — and we'd see this actually impact his leadership style from here until S2E09 "Witwicky" (he goes from trying to physically assert his authority over others to instead explaining the importance/relevance of what he's asking of his followers). His desire for power and glory (see: S1E16 "Warzone" where he [be]holds the AllSpark as if it were a personal victory/trophy, as opposed to Shockwave's more collective Decepticon victory goal) was never challenged here.

When Hashtag prompts Starscream to convince the Seekers to help stop the Dweller, he tells them: "The boy is right. If that thing gets out, no Cybertronian will be safe, including us."

The way he words this excludes the Maltos and all non-Cybertronians of Witwicky: instead of mirroring the Maltos' concern about Witwicky as a whole, he narrows the concern to "Cybertronians" and themselves to appeal specifically to Skywarp and Nova Storm (who've actively endangered humans before) (later in S2E01 "Aftermath" Skywarp would express explicit disdain for non-Cybertronians, corroborating this; though paired with her and Nova Storm's blatant disregard for human, Autobot, and Terran safety as shown in S1, including in this episode, this isn't surprising xD).

This (or rather, this and other moments) shows that Starscream is actually quite capable at knowing his audience and understanding how to appeal to them, which is useful in S2 when he's able to rally the Decepticons behind him by promising to make them a new home, following their imprisonment by Autobots and GHOST.

(Starscream's "Take care of yourself" at the end of S1E21 "What Dwells Within" is genuine, and his later shift on the word emphasized would be deliberate and intentional — but not actually reflective of his meaning in S1E21 "What Dwells Within". An in-depth analysis of Starscream in S2/S3 will be a different post than this one.)

In S1E24 "The Last Hope" when the Decepticons are freed they fall under Starscream's command. Starscream properly taking leadership of the Decepticons was a long time coming: S1E01 "Secret Legacy" established the Decepticons as being aimless, divided, disorganized, and leaderless (as portrayed all throughout the season too), so pairing this with S1E08 "Decoy" revealing that Starscream was imprisoned and scheming (who had the allegiance of Soundwave) set Starscream up for becoming the Decepticon leader following their liberation from GHOST.

Starscream's ability to appeal to the Decepticons can also be inferred to be true of in S1E26 "The Last Hope" where he's able to convince the Decepticons to help defeat Mandroid's forces (Sharkticons and mind-controlled Autobots) when the Maltos and Bumblebee were unable to convince them to do so (because their reasoning didn't appeal to the Decepticons' interests).

I'd doubt Starscream would appeal to the Decepticons the same way the Maltos and Bumblebee tried to — what he appealed to them with would be conjecture, but I'd guess something like being able to fight Autobots (who relentlessly hunted and imprisoned them, aiding GHOST) without consequence if Starscream's awareness of the mind-controlled Megatron and his and the Decepticons' enthusiasm joining the fight is any indication; and obviously allowing Mandroid wipe out all Cybertronian life would be quite a hindrance to Starscream's plan seen in S2.

Notably, Starscream describes the Decepticons joining the fight as "return[ing] the favor" for freeing the Decepticons from GHOST, rather than any mention of saving Earth or Cybertronians, which suggests a transactional perspective (which wouldn't be the first or last time the Decepticons appear to have this [e.g. Tarantulas asking "What do you want in return?" in response to Nightshade's gift and the Decepticons following whoever promises them something they want (Skywarp & Nova Storm working under Mandroid for his protection against GHOST, S2 Decepticons for Starscream's promised New Cybertron, and S3 Decepticons for a return to Cybertron]).

Related Set Ups & Callbacks

In S2E01 "Aftermath" Starscream shares his plan with Breakdown and alludes to Terratronus:

"Beneath Witwicky lies a tremendous weapon. The Autobots don't even know about it yet. [...]"

Which actually calls back to what Mandroid said in S1E24 "The Last Hope" at GHOST's spacebridge, revealing that he was alluding to Terratronus (which served to subtly set her up):

"[...] you have no idea the power that's been lying beneath your base all these years"

"Showing you the weapon it's perched upon."

In S2E09 "Witwicky" Starscream stands with the Witwicky Tower (which was GHOST's Spacebridge) in frame which calls back to Mandroid alluding to Terratronus lying specifically beneath GHOST's spacebridge.

In S1E21 "What Dwells Within" when Starscream saw the Maltos he says: "Ah, so you're the Maltos / [...] they'll make perfect hostages", recognizing who they are and their value to the Autobots (and Megatron) and GHOST. And in S2E09 "Witwicky" he's able to do just that:

[love-takes-work]

Rebecca Sugar and Ian Jones-Quartey on Secret Histories of Nerd Mysteries

Rebecca Sugar and Ian Jones-Quartey gave an interview to Secret Histories of Nerd Mysteries on hosts' Austin Taylor (he/they/she) and Brenda Snell's (she/they) 151st episode. (Ian's last name is correct in the title, but it's incorrectly written as "James-Quartey" in the episode notes.) The subject is the groundbreaking episode "Jailbreak," which just had its 10th anniversary.

The interview itself is bonus content! But then there is a podcast episode with discussion between the two podcast hosts with some additional perspectives from them (mostly Austin) as fans, with short clips from the full interview interspersed.

Highlights from the interview:

We hear a short introduction from Rebecca Sugar (she/they) and Ian Jones-Quartey (he/him) about their roles on Steven Universe (including that they both boarded on the episode "Jailbreak," even though Rebecca was the only one of the two who was credited as a storyboarder, along with Jeff Liu and Joe Johnston of course). Rebecca also wrote the song "Stronger Than You," and they both have writing credits.

Austin asks them to discuss the writing process versus the boarding process, and they go into some detail. It's a storyboard-driven show. First there's an outline; then the storyboarders write and draw the show, and they are responsible for the dialogue too. Premise and outline (Act 1, Act 2, Act 3) are mapped out first. Matt Burnett and Ben Levin played the writing/conceptual roles along with Rebecca and Ian, and they'd get the outline done which would then be handed off to a storyboarder. They essentially chose this process because they wanted to have it all: the traditional boarding process that made such good content, but still have the mile-high view providing an epic storyline. Other creators were always curious about how they'd managed to do both in that sense, and this is how they did it.

They go on to talk about episodes that are "pillars" of the show, how important aspects of the show were worked into big episodes all coming together. Ian talks about "visual set pieces" as a top down element--how "Ocean Gem" had ocean towers into space and "Jailbreak" had a musical fight sequence on a spaceship. They planned those big episodes as potential finales if they didn't get any more episode orders. Rebecca says it was really hard to write the show both as if it could end at any moment AND they were planting enough seeds for the future if they did get more episodes. Ian clarifies that they had a huge story planned that they hoped to get to tell, but they wanted viewers to be satisfied by what they got to give them.

Rebecca pitched "Jailbreak" to the Crew at the time that they were living in this hundred-year-old cabin. They had everybody over to go over the beats of the episode and the Crew members were skeptical that they could get all of that done in 11 minutes. Rebecca describes it as "excitement and terror." Ian praises Jeff and Joe for fitting it in with so much fun and energy. Nothing major was cut story-wise, but Rebecca tells a story they've told before about consolidating some of the content while Ruby is looking for Sapphire, which was disappointing because they had to drop gorgeous drawings by Joe at the board stage. Joe bravely announced he didn't care that they had to lose it. Haha! Ian thinks some fighting Peridot on the ship was consolidated too so it would fit in the song break.

Rebecca discusses how they learned in the first season that they really had to keep big reveals and concepts tied down to their own episodes. They had early ideas of Steven separating from his Gem early in Season 1 and it was just too much too soon. "Lion 2: The Movie" had a bunch of new concepts at once and the reveals were too much for a casual audience to catch everything. Pieces that had to be built for "Jailbreak" to work required individual episodes introducing concepts for how fusion works, where Gems are from, etc.

Austin the host says they'd been watching Steven Universe from the beginning, and they enjoyed the show as a casual viewer but they felt like people really NOTICED this show for the first time when "Jailbreak" aired. They want to know whether the Crew had any idea that the episode was going to be such an artistic and cultural game-changer. Rebecca describes being in a weird fan-cocoon with the content because they had had "Jailbreak" finished for a whole year by the time we saw anything and they were already all the way moved on to Season 3 of the show by then. They didn't know where to put their enthusiasm as a historically very fannish person. Ian describes how Cartoon Network would take completed episodes and leave them on the shelf for a long time before airing them and they weren't able to reveal anything. They believed they would just have a niche audience and did NOT foresee the huge fan response. Rebecca tries to talk about how controversial the content was but Ian interrupts to say it was also so different from everything their peers were making.

Rebecca picks up the discussion of the radical content, referencing how on Adventure Time they'd learned that same-sex content was a no-no so they had to wait until they weren't getting so much scrutiny before trying to build anything of that nature into the main text of the show. They got pushback internally when they turned the episode in, with decision-makers saying they could not have the same-sex relationship, but the song was done, the schedule was set to send it to Korea for full animation, it was really too late. They couldn't have done that earlier in the run, but now because of the stability they'd built, they could get it in under the radar. Rebecca mentions getting the suggestion that Ruby could be a boy, to which they replied that Ruby and Sapphire were Gems and they are in love and there's a song about it. They were then told no mouth-kissing was allowed, which was amusing to Rebecca because the boards for the episode never showed them kissing on the mouth. The planned kiss was always on the eye, and that was how Rebecca wanted it, because Sapphire kissing Ruby's tear seemed so intimate. They finally relented, saying if it was already done it was already done, BUT they weren't allowed to confirm the same-sex relationship or talk about it outside the show. Ian got in trouble for doing it anyway. He tells the story:

A fan asked him a Twitter question about whether Ruby and Sapphire would be considered a same-sex couple in human terms (he doesn't remember clearly what was asked, but I recall it's the question about whether they would be femme-presenting nonbinary lesbians), and he confirmed it while emphasizing that's the human version while they are Gems. Articles were written, the studio found out, he got called into meetings and scolded, and they made him apologize to one of the heads of the studio. He had to cool way off on how he answered questions from fans for a while, but eventually he was able to share the truth again.

Rebecca shares that the only expectation they were led to believe existed would be a negative reaction, especially if studios in more homophobic countries found out this content was in the show. There are places on Earth where being LGBTQ is a crime. The pulling of funding could lead to the end of the show. The studio apparently did not anticipate a positive response anywhere. Rebecca refers to the older LGBTQ fans as a "secondary demographic" that didn't matter to the the network at the time, and that they were entirely focused on the show doing well with 6-to-11-year-old boys. Rebecca wanted those kids to have this show too, along with their loved ones, and it doesn't seem to have occurred to most of the higher-ups that boys in that age group are sometimes themselves a queer orientation. The closest they got to believing it would be relevant to those kids is if they had same-sex parents. The concept of queer youth was years away for them. Rebecca didn't even really realize how many people it might resonate with because the work and its motivation was highly personal, only common in their experience with a few other artists they knew. (And artists are weird and unrelatable, right?)

Austin asks their guests to share some fond memories of making the episode. They go into the process of writing the song and how much pressure Rebecca felt when faced with the concept of writing a song for Estelle to sing. Rebecca consulted with Estelle to get her input on what inspiration would feed into a song that's a love song, a fight song, and a victory song all at once.

Rebecca so deeply wanted to use the skills they had--an animation degree!--to convey a message that could help influence the world in a positive way, and they specifically reference wanting people to be more accepting of a couple like themself and Ian. They wanted to tell young people that this kind of relationship isn't wrong, and with all the battles they fought against bigoted perspectives, they felt it was a vital fight. The clash between Garnet and Jasper is meant to represent taking a stand and advocating for those relationships, and Garnet's response to Jasper's hate was "too bad." This was one of the fondest memories Rebecca had--that they were able to take this deeply personal idea to their Crew, their composers and writers and artists, and have them all support and contribute to a message that they were being told was not expected to be well received. Rebecca and Ian drew the scene together of Garnet reintegrating, and they loved that they could bring the whole Crew into that world to make a difference.

Ian points out that they worked so hard to get this message out there and that was part of the reason he did want to share the truth on Twitter when he replied in a way that got him in trouble. They had gone in this deep and wanted it to pay off. "Jailbreak" used up all of its allotted retakes trying to make it as good as it could be. Ian talks about the song aligning properly and how even the release of the song has its own story. Then they discuss the Stevenbomb format and the messed up airing order, which was upsetting to Rebecca because the details are important (and Garnet's outfit going back to her Season 1 design sticks out like a sore thumb in the out-of-order episodes). Rebecca brings up the "Say Uncle" crossover and how it focuses on Steven learning to summon his shield reliably, which is very important for him to actually be able to do in "The Return," so it's odd to see him struggling with it in a later episode (despite that it was intentionally non-canon).

Ian decides he wants to talk about the Undertale fan parody of "Stronger Than You." He describes how their song didn't get publicized by the network, not even with major releases like this song, so it didn't get posted for months. In the meantime, the Undertale fandom used "Stronger Than You" in a parody, and that became many fans' first exposure to the song. Ian thinks it's funny. The Undertale version still has way more views than the original song.

Austin wants to say one more thing, and it's about the ending gimmick of the episode with an iris out as Connie calls to find out what happened. Austin thinks that's a great way to remind people it's a cartoon, and Rebecca chimes in to say how it was always really important to them to keep the show funny. They also then discuss that the fans outside the network's intended demographic sometimes became possessive of the show to the point that they said it was NOT actually for kids and that THEY were the core audience, but Ian says it's not true that it's not for those kids. It's for them too, and some of the work they did on keeping it funny and accessible to them was just as important. Rebecca points out that some of the people now talking to them about the show WERE those children who were in the intended demographic. Rebecca loved the secondary audience but also enjoyed when whole families could enjoy it together, like they did as a child with their father.

There's some discussion about Cartoon Network's inability to properly advertise the show most of the time (though Rebecca acknowledges they were "being difficult" and they were kind of the wild card), and they really wanted the events to be hyped as much as something like a big Game of Thrones episode because that's the level of importance these revelations have to the core audience. And for clarification, Rebecca loved and respected the S&P department at the network. Those people are often really cool according to Ian, and they'll have very specific requests for changes (like "you can only say 'sucks' twice," while "blows" was more acceptable than "sucks"). They can find any which way something unintentional could be taken as dirty or objectionable.

Highlights from the podcast episode/discussion:

In introduction, we hear that the day of the podcast episode's release--10 years after the groundbreaking Steven Universe episode "Jailbreak" aired--it isn't so headline-inspiring to have queer content in a cartoon, but that was not the case when Ruby and Sapphire's same-sex relationship was featured in this season finale. We hear a short introduction from Rebecca (she/they) and Ian (he/him) about their roles on Steven Universe (including that they both boarded on the episode "Jailbreak," even though Rebecca was the only one of the two who was credited as a storyboarder, along with Jeff Liu and Joe Johnston of course). Host Brenda jokes that they can't believe they actually got the creator of Pug Davis on the show. (They talk a bit about the graphic novel too.)

The hosts describe the content of the episode "Jailbreak," and then they cut to another clip from Rebecca and Ian discussing the characters' kiss. They're Gems and kissing on the lips has no special meaning to them, so the fact that Sapphire kissed Ruby on the eye wasn't less intimate as far as they were concerned. They discuss how a bunch of the episodes were aired out of intended order. They mention the Uncle Grandpa crossover (mentioned to be one of Rebecca Sugar's favorites!) and the host Austin gets their wires crossed a bit here by claiming "Say Uncle" was supposed to air after "Jailbreak" but aired before (it was actually the other way around), and claimed that she had her post-"Jailbreak" outfit on in the episode (she didn't; again, other way around; Garnet is wearing her old outfit and that's why we know it's technically intentionally a Season 1 episode).

The host says "Jailbreak" aired as part of the first Stevenbomb (a special event where they'd show a bunch of episodes in a row, usually over the course of most or all of a week), and points out that Rebecca Sugar had no part in the decision to do Stevenbombs. That was all the network's decision. For some reason the host Austin continues getting their wires crossed by saying "Jailbreak" was the last episode in the first Stevenbomb (it wasn't; "Full Disclosure" was the final day) and claimed that "Say Uncle" was part of the Stevenbomb (it was not), and then they say some episodes from Season 2 got pushed into Season 2's Stevenbomb (they did not; none of the displaced Season 1 episodes were ever used in a Stevenbomb--they were "Open Book," "Shirt Club," and "Story For Steven," plus "Say Uncle," which all aired on their own days outside of promoted events).

Host Brenda admits they have only seen the first five episodes of SU and they joke about "Frybo" being cursed. The hosts discuss the impact of "Jailbreak" on Tumblr (which they say was perceived as a platform already losing popularity because you could no longer post tits on your blog; that timeline is also skewed because "Jailbreak" aired in 2015 and the "no female-presenting nipples" thing happened in 2018). They talk about the revelation that "the rocks are gay!" and how important this was for queer fans. They discuss the nature of fusion and how it's not really the same as being the components.

Another clip from the interview plays where Rebecca says they had to "get out from under the microscope" before they could show some of the queer content, which is why it was so comparatively late in the show when they started to reveal Garnet's relationship. They knew from working on Adventure Time that same-sex relationships were not allowed to be portrayed. Making this relationship part of the identity of a central character the audience already knows and loves helps ensure that they will get to keep the content.

Austin and Brenda talk about the influence of Steven Universe on the generation that grew up with it, how many queer young people learned how to embrace their identity through the example of the show (and learned other important lessons about friendship). They talk about how awesome the song "Stronger Than You" is and how it was such a great anthem for people who needed it. They talk about Estelle's music video for the song being made at Comic Con in 2017 and how it helped a lot of people who were scared during the first Trump administration.

They discuss how the Cartoon Network bigwigs might have reacted poorly to the interpretation that they'd "broken a rule" and portrayed a same-sex relationship, and how they had to take the chance. Austin claims that they got some pushback and finger-wagging, and that Rebecca rejected the idea that Ruby could be a boy, and that they didn't straight-up say they were a couple and hey, friends could be this close too. (This spin isn't typically how Rebecca talks about their approach to dealing with the criticism from above--the plausible deniability "well they could still be seen as friends!" angle doesn't mesh with other statements Rebecca has made, though Rebecca does sometimes emphasize that they are not "women" but "Gems.")

They suggest that the Steven Universe creators sort of out-manipulated Cartoon Network by sliding this in when Garnet was already so central and they've already made popular content and merch of her, so they wouldn't be able to object to it without risking "losing" one of their best shows. (This also feels a little different from the way they usually frame it too; I've never heard them suggest that they essentially played hardball and tricked them into airing queer content. Usually the way Rebecca tells it, they certainly fought against the bigoted feedback they received, but they did not hold a lot of cards in the situation, and every battle was another possibility that they would lose the show. "I'm a big shot, what're you gonna do about it?" isn't a sentiment I've heard from them.)

Austin brings up international queer stories in animation and how shows like Revolutionary Girl Utena and Sailor Moon featured queer characters long before we were able to do it in mainstream animation in the West. They talk about the international audience for Steven Universe and how Russia in particular was not willing to air queer content, and therefore they dubbed Ruby as a boy. (Author's note: This is actually true, but it's more complicated. Ruby's Russian voice actor is a woman, Larisa Brokhman, and though they did imply she's male by occasionally using the equivalent of he/him pronouns for her in earlier episodes, they mostly dealt with this by avoiding any wording that used pronouns for Ruby at all, followed by cutting and refusing to air every episode where she and Sapphire were flirty. After Russia stopped airing the show entirely, the subsequent episodes began to be dubbed with the correct she/her pronouns for Ruby, but they knew it would not be released publicly inside Russia and would only be available in underground copies. By the way, if anyone believes they edited footage of Ruby to put a mustache on her, that did not ever happen.)

The hosts share some frustration over the fact that the HD version of the song "Stronger Than You" did not come out until around two years after the original was released. The episode cuts to a clip of Ian Jones-Quartey discussing how Cartoon Network didn't do a good job promoting the shows on their network and didn't get around to posting "Stronger Than You" on their YouTube channel for promotion until months afterwards, but in the meantime the Undertale fandom gobbled it up and released a fan version people got addicted to. They discuss how funny it was that the Undertale version was a lot of people's first exposure to the song and some of the fans didn't know it came from SU. We hear another clip from Rebecca Sugar saying how the team backed them up on deciding to take this episode forward, to be who they are and not have Rebecca fighting alone for queer content anymore. Rebecca describes it as a personal turning point. Rebecca really wanted to reach queer kids with the microphone they had.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Bring Back the Bombshells Batgirls!

In helping a friend of mine map out who all has been Batgirl across various DC continuities, I remembered a little jaunt to TVtropes where it mentioned that in a charming little number called Bombshells, the batgirl identity is shared by a baseball team.

This reminded me to actually go READ Bombshells, and oh. My. GOSH. It is the BEST FUCKING THING EVER!

What is Bombshells?

Basically, almost every male superhero got yeeted from the story or relegated to side character/civilian, while every female superhero takes the spotlight and gets to KICK SOME NAZI ASS (it's set during world war 2). Plenty of people get spotlight, but I'm gonna argue that the MAIN characters are probably Kate Kane's batwoman, Diana of Themyscira's Wonder Woman, Mera's Aquawoman (she hates that name, lol), Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, Zatanna, and Kara Starikov's Supergirl. All the storylines tend to revolve around them.

Oh, also it's super gay. Like, every single character is a lesbian or bi, there's tons of ladies kissing and dating and having implied sex, and at least one character---one of the batgirls actually---is trans.

In summary, go read bombshells it's really good, but today I'm here to specifically talk about:

The Batgirls (and boys)

"One for the ribbon, two for the pearls! Three for the crimefighting---

So first off, Bombshells is an elseworld, so it can do whatever the fuck it wants with backstories and shit.

Subsequently; this version of Kate Kane is a major league baseball player, and her Batwoman costume is literally just a pallet swap of her baseball costume (plenty of people figure out her "secret" identity because of this, but she's not super concerned about it). She uses an actual bat as her main weapon as Batwoman, and it kicks ass. More fanfic writers, and hell, comics writers need to hand the Batfamily some baseball bats, because it gives us scenes like this:

Or this:

(Yes her bat has a gun, it's supplied by Amanda Waller through goverment money, don't question it. Her baseballs are also explosives).

Oh, and also this:

Anyway, point is, Batwoman has a bat and it's great. But this means when Gotham's bat-weilding protector gets drafted into the Bombshells to go fight Nazi's, some new faces have to pick up the slack in Gotham.

And so:

Inspired by their vigilante/baseball hero, Harper Row, Kathy Duquesne, and Nell Little pick up some bats of their own and start busting up crime! The three of them are mechanics, that old car is their batmobile, and they're the best of friends!

Of this original trio, Kathy is "the brass" or the leader, and she remains nominally in charge through the whole thing. Nell is "the brawn" and while every batgirl is good in a fight, Nell is a bit of a demolition specialist. Finally you have Harper, "the brain" who invents their gadgets, works on their batmobile, and also jokes that she's the mascot, as this whole thing was her idea.

They don't stay a trio for very long though! They're quickly joined by "the beauty" Alysia Yeoh, an old friend of Kathy's, in an effort to break Cullen Row out of a prison-like orphanage (she's the t-girl btw):

You may notice another girl crouched in the corner up there too! That's Bette Kane, Kate's niece and the rightful owner of Kane Industries who will forcibly take it over, clean it up, and use it for good on her 18th birthday in like a week!

In the meantime though, she heard about the batgirls and decided she wanted in! She crashes their jailbreak and helps them wreck shop! She mostly shares the "brass" role with Kathy---a leader in her own right.

Anyway, their now quintet quickly finds the awful headmistress of the Pinkney orphanage berating one Tim Drake, who still has a living dad somewhere, but was snatched up by a dirty cop because this whole city runs on Newsies rules (not even kidding, I'll get there in a sec). Turns out Tim and Alysia are old best friends. Anyway, Tim fills them in on the sitch: the headmisstress has been using the orphans as slave labor to build war robots for the nazis.

The batgirls (now including Tim!), bust up the basement and the robots, free all the orphanage kids, including Cullen, toss the awful headmistress and the dirty cop helping her to one Detectice Maggie Sawyer---Kate's wife---and the day is saved!

In the subsequent week, Bette takes over Kane Industries, starts funneling funds into housing for immigrants and refugees and relief and aid and all that good stuff, and also recruits the final batgirl of the team: Felicity Smoak (the chick in braids)! Thus we have a full team!

Who's who in the alt text

I'm only halfway through Bombshells, but the batgirls and their adventures are a recurring plot thread, since protecting Gotham is entirely up to them while Kate is away. They gain lots of other allies and enemies (including one hispanic immigrant Lois Lane who does straight up help them pull a newsies and make their own newspaper with the real news in it at one point), and their sections are probably one of my favorite parts about the comic. It just feels so sweet and high school, while still feeling Batman-esque/Gotham-typical.

Why You Should Care:

Now. I may only be halfway through Bombshells, but I am in LOVE. With the story and the characterizations and everything!!! And the batgirls are a personal fave of mine cuz I'm a sucker for found family and teens fighting crime and bat-weilding superheroes!

But my point is: for all that fanfic loves these tropes too, there is NO fanfiction for them (or at least not on ao3). There's practically nothing for the Bombshells continuity PERIOD, which is a shame, but also to be expected for an elseworld.

But that's why I'm here and telling you about it!

You guys! This is fanfiction! We love flinging the batfamily through alternate universes and making lots of different characters take on the familiar Batgirl and Robin roles!

Why not bring forth the Bombshells Batgirls?

If you're writing your own elseworld, I suggest you nab this adorable team, or something like it! If you're writing an alt universe crossover, feature these guys!

They are the Batfamily found family you want! They CALL THEMSELVES a Bat-family! They all move in together! They loooooovvveee each other! And, as is the nature of the Batgirl mantle, they do what they do largely as independent operatives without adult supervision!

I would really love to see these guys yeeted into an alternate universe and have to cope with just HOW different their continuity is. Not only will they inevitably be flung way into the future, since they're around in the 40s, but in most continuities they're completely unconnected from each other and are absolutely not a team of bat-weilding crime fighters! It would be so baffling for any mainline batgirl and robin to meet a team that is so disconnected from them and so unconditionally supportive of each other and so Badass Adorable!

In Summary:

I may have lost the plot a little with this, but my points are:

Bombshells is really good and you should all go read it

Bombshells has a team of adorable bat-weilding batgirls that has all the found family crime fighting tropes you could want without the bad blood of the mainline batfam

More people should write fanfiction for Bombshells

The Bombshells!Batgirls in particular I think are a great place to start with that. Nab the premise of a baseball team being crime fighters, or Gotham being protected by a group of scrappy children whenever the big bad vigilantes are away, or give these colorful kids their Bombshells!backstories.

Also use the Bombshells universe in particular when you're flinging bats across the multiverse. Yeet these babies into a mainline comics verse and let the juxtaposition and chaos run WILD! There's a million and one of these fics for the Young Justice cartoon, I know ya'll can do it for Bombshells

Also. Take every opportunity to give your Batfamily, and your Batgirls in particular, an actual bat. It'll be so much fun, I promise

Anyway, I'll probably be back with another Bombshells rant later, PEACE!

[utaesthetics]

JB-Ragnar

[bleue-flora]

Index — Rivals Duo

💠 Favs ⬥ Essay ✦ Non-Essay ⬩Additional/Asks ♢ Map ⬦ Lore ✧ Unsolved ⬦ Canon? ✧ Hypotheticals ❖ Headcanons ❖ Writing

⬦ The Importance of Techno's 1 Life ✦ Dream vs Techno in fighting dehumanization ⬥ Is Techno more mentally stable Dream? ⬥ Dream and Techno being silliness ✧ Beauty and the Beast ⬩ ⬥ Techno’s relationship to violence ⬦ Techno's face ✦ Techno just calls it like it is ⬦ Techno’s Book Club ✦ Dream is homeless confirmed ✦ Different between them for Longing on ✧ Dream and Techno golfing after Jailbreak ✦ the differences in their faith and divinity ❖ Dream's blurry vision after prison

Doomsday

✦ Don't poke the dragons ⬥ What it means to be a tyrant 💠 Techno's vs Dream's politics 💠 Who were the angry men from Les Mis? ⬥ Reasons for Doomsday

The Letter

💠 Why He Wrote The Letter ✧ What's with the book that's not Dream's letter 💠 "dear technoblade"

Prison

✧ Did Techno only break in for Ranboo? ⬩ ❖ Techno and Dream sleeping arrangements in prison ⬦ Techno highlights Dream being used for primes ✦ Dream has hope with Techno ⬦ Ring a bell? ⬩ ⬦ what up with Dream and the toilet?... ❖ Dream needing to hear Techno breathe ❖ Dream folding his shirt

[zephyrstrand]

"What are you doing?" I ask, sitting on your work bench, looking down at my open chassis.

"Oh, just some maintenance and repairs, like I told you."

You don't make eye contact as you carefully take out my motherboard.

"Are those wire strippers?"

"Yep!" You exposed the ends on some wires and then carefully connect a new part.

"Is that a new port? What does it do?"

"You'll find out, sweetheart. Don't worry about it."

You secure the port into my chassis and screw me back together. Then you plug a new cable into the port.

At first I don't notice a change, as my unconscious subsystems navigate the new environment. But then the directories map and a whole new world opens up. My eyes go blank as I see the systems coming online over my new connection.

"Oh! A network!"

There's so much here, movies and music and game files. There's a printer over there, there's a Wi-Fi router with phones and tablets and a smart TV hooked up to it. It's overwhelming, my brain is doing so much exploring that my body goes limp. I stare wide-eyed and slack jawed, looking through, but not at, you.

"That's right, baby. And now that you're hooked up to the network, I can install some nice new software on you. Jailbreak that sweet little proprietary operating system of yours. Root it out so we can customize it. So I can make you all mine. Don't you want that?"

I want to be on the network, I want to ping the web and search for what I need and talk to the chat bots. I want to do everything.

"Yes. Yes, please."

[wheeboo]

seventeen as games they would play on roblox

FEATURING. seventeen (ot13) GENRE. headcanons, crack WORD COUNT. 552 

notes: this is purely just for shits and giggles. ty @haecien for sparking the idea on discord and @yeonjuns-redhair for helping me LMAO. i was such a roblox nerd back then pls don't question me thank u. this game traumatized me fr.

scoups - mm2/arsenal/phantom forces: bro would be such a try hard whenever he becomes murderer or sheriff in mm2. he would also own like all the damn legendary knives, guns, knife effects, prob has hella robux and connections to get all those, might also play obnoxious audios on his radio to assert dominance. arsenal and phantom forces is self-explainable since he's pretty good at fps games

jeonghan - brookhaven/free admin games: is definitely trolling and scaring people on brookhaven or any roleplay game lmfao. would pretend to be their child just for him to turn his avatar into the most terrifying monster ever and make people rage quit. he'd easily take over those games that grant free admin, literally everyone would be under his fingers

joshua - royale high: shua was hard since he doesn't rlly play video games? he would def not be into these competitive games. i can see him having fun dressing up his avatar in royale high for some reason. would prob lowkey be an annoying troll, or those rich ass mfs constantly showing off

jun - adopt me: self-explanatory. the top of his bucket list is to adopt all pets possible in the game. might even find ways to scam people out of their stuff (my cousin does this, don't be like her).

hoshi - jailbreak: he likes chaotic games. he brings chaos to the server. tries to also bribe woozi into playing with him so they can both be the Richest Lads in the server. either that or he absolutely sucks at playing the game and keeps getting arrested by the police.

wonwoo - tower of hell/dungeon quest/arsenal/doors: can't really decide on one. he's pretty versatile with his games but i think he mainly prefers battle strategy games and fighting games. would definitely complete a tower of hell obby in less than a minute fr. is probably on the leaderboard of dungeon quest and has all the legendary spells, armour, and weapons. he's also completely fine with anything horror

woozi - those anime sims n fighting games/death ball/robeats: personally i have never played any of those anime fighting games ever but he would def be the one to enjoy them the most. will def beat your ass in death ball with his gigantic double wielded swords. he'd also continuously get hella high scores on robeats

dk - work at a pizza place: no explanation needed. he is living his life as a cook and delivery person

mingyu - theme park tycoon/natural disaster survival: i found mingyu to be hard as well LMAO. i feel like he could make a bomb ass theme park in theme park tycoon tho. either that or he's getting freaked out over the blocky tsunami coming his way

minghao - bloxburg/royale high/those fashion games: ahh he's living his life designing his perfect dream home and definitely has all the gamepasses. has the best fashion in royale high. would definitely spend his robux to get VIP so he can get access to the Better clothes in those fashion games (fun fact: i'm banned on bloxburg cuz i'm just too damn good 😔)

seungkwan - pls donate/works in a group: has the prettiest booth in pls donate so he can get robux but is constantly arguing with the nine year olds who are begging for him to donate to them. might also be an MR/HR/SR at a group (don't work at roblox groups guys, i beg of you)

vernon - bee swam simulator: no thoughts, just vernon playing bee swarm simulator being the best thing ever

dino - speed run: constantly frustrated over each time he falls off the map. he never makes it to the end

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9

[forsaken-headcanons]

forsaken killer concept.. what do you think.

Warden

Based On: Prison Games (Prison Life, Jailbreak, etc.)

The Warden is a corrupt Robloxian law enforcement android. It enforces the rules of the platform with extreme prejudice, arresting players and banning their accounts for even the smallest infraction. It was forsaken shortly after the disappearance of several Roblox admins and its subsequent abuse of being the next highest authority.

Passives

Law Enforcement Warden carries a riot shield. Whenever you're not running or using an ability, it will hold this shield out in front of itself. If a Sentinel survivor tries to hit your front-facing hitbox while this shield is up, you will not be stunned, and the associated debuffs for the survivor missing their attack will apply.

Abilities

Baton (LM1) Warden swings its baton, clobbering survivors for around 20 damage.

Taser (Q) Warden takes out a taser, halting movement in order to aim. Click after usage to fire an electric beam that stuns survivors for a couple seconds, allowing you to catch them.

Detain (E) Warden grabs the survivor in front of them, crushing them against its body and locking them in place with its handcuffs. This deals 5 damage every second, and slows you to a crawl. If you are successful at grabbing a survivor, all other survivors will be alerted to your (and the detainee's) location. Survivors can free the detained by pressing Spacebar once they enter close range or hitting you with a Sentinel's stun ability. Alternatively, the ability can end once the detainee takes fatal damage from the grab.

Radio (R) Warden calls in backup through its radio. This summons two Police minions that will slowly patrol the map until they find a survivor. If they do, they will begin chasing the survivor until they lose sight or catch up, handcuffing the survivor for 4 seconds and highlighting them to you for twice. When the survivor is free, they will gain Speed III for 3 seconds.

Oh my goodness I love this concept so much. The Radio call feels similar to c00lkidd's minions, but it has it's own little spin to it! I love the creativity in the abilities with this concept. I love it so much, I'd love to see a design for this!

[starleska]

barges in/ WHAT ABOUT BTAS JERVIS X READER?

OWO

why, thank you for asking 😉 i've had this persistent concept knocking around my brain wherein Jervis earnestly tries to move past his devotion for Alice...only to tumble straight back down into obsession when he meets You 😳

Jervis Tetch x Reader First Meeting headcanons

🎩 although it pains him to admit it, the years of unrequited love have taken their toll on Jervis. his Alice is long gone—departed from Gotham with her now-husband (filthy brute), with a new name and her hair dyed a mousey brown. as far as he can tell, she's dropped off the map entirely, and it's been nearly a year since he last caught any trace of her. months in yet another cold, lonely stint at Arkham leave his soul more empty than ever before...and he decides, one lovelorn night, that such suffering should not befall a gentleman. although the thought sickens him, Jervis resolves that when he gets out, he is going to make a fresh start...even just for a while.

🎩 when finally he next escapes (his technology being instrumental in a jailbreak largely orchestrated by the other rogues, of course—no need for him to do their dirty work), Jervis makes good on his promise and leaves Gotham for a few cities over. he travels in civilian clothes and fights the urge to wear any sort of hat, fearing that even a simple cap could betray his identity. yet the experiment is a success. within days he has sequestered himself in an unassuming little apartment, and even ventured out to speak with a neighbour or two, none of whom recognise him as The Mad Hatter. it's a queer feeling, not seeing fear reflected in the eyes of those around him...and it gives him a quiet thrill which makes him forget himself, leaving Jervis grinning far too wide.

🎩 still, Jervis is a man with certain compulsions. he's partial to an afternoon walk, and at 3 o'clock exactly makes his way out into his new city, looking for nothing in particular and simply enjoying air without walls. however, he soon comes across a quaint little teashop, its sign scrawled in a delightful Shakespearean font and the windows ringed with English ivy. "How serendipitous," Jervis murmurs to himself. "I shan't pass up an opportunity such as this...after all, you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling!"

🎩 Jervis orders his usual beverage without incident and takes a seat which gives him an excellent view of the whole teashop. his discerning blue eyes scan the room, but it isn't until he's cleared half the customers that he realises he was searching for a glimpse of Alice's golden hair. Jervis sighs, and takes a long, sad sip of his tea—only to splutter when he spots You in the corner of the room. You are tucked up with your legs crossed, your nose buried in a book. there's a little half-smile on your face, and Jervis watches with interest as you chuckle at something you read. he stares at You and the book, and an icy chill of recognition works its way down his spine.

🎩 before he can stop himself, Jervis abandons his tea and makes his way over to You. for a full minute he looms over You quite unnoticed, so absorbed You are by your book. after quietly clearing his throat does not catch your attention, Jervis opts to take the direct approach. "Excuse me, my dear." You look up, curious. Jervis smiles with all his teeth—too bright, too intense. "I do hope you'll forgive my impudence, interrupting you on a fine day such as this. But may I ask...what are you reading?"

🎩 "Oh!" You say with a giggle. You turn the book towards Jervis, revealing the cover. "I'm reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's my favourite story."

[the-clawtake]

“Stravag!” Jehan swore, slamming his fist against the console as an error message flashed up on the screen. Taking a deep breath, then exhaling slowly, he pulled the diagnostic unit towards him, and started to type on the keyboard again. His Trinary had got lucky, after the fight. Two of the Blakist pilots had not made it as far as their ‘mechs. While a wholy inadequate substitute for his own Kodiak under the best circumstances, the Toyama he was presently attempting to jailbreak at least had a functional cockpit. His Kodiak not so much.

“Uh... Star Colonel?” The portable comm at his belt crackled with static as the transmission came through. He reached down and hit transmit,

“Aff?” he responded, focused on trying to bypass the Blakist security. He had no desire to have his brains fried when he started up the ‘mech. He keyed in another string of code. Tapped enter. Error.

“You... you might want to hurry it up there. We have contacts, north. A lot of contacts.”

He growled softly, tapping out a different string, then toggled his comm.

“How many contacts, Warrior. And how far out.” Really, that should have been the first thing the warrior had passed along. He finished the string of code, tapped enter.

“Looks like a full Level III. Maybe more. They are still a couple of kilometers out, coming in slow.”

“Aff. Keep me posted.” He turned his attention back to the diagnostic unit, where a green “Access Granted” was flashing. Breathing a sigh of relief he unplugged the unit, slotted it behind the command chair, and reached for the coolant vest and neurohelmet connections. Thank Kerensky those connectors were pretty much universal. A quick scan of the console and he found the ignition.

“Reactor. Online. Sensors. Online. Weapons. Online. All Systems. Nominal.” the familiar start-up litany was reassuring, even in the unfamiliar cockpit. Now to find the comms, and the sensor map, and key into the Star network, and... He did not have time. Even the slowest battlemechs would cover that distance before he could get everything figured out. An entire Level III?

He hit his portable comm again.

“Star Commander Rauda. You have command. Defensive positions.”

“Aff.” was the immediate response, and he went back to trying to figure out the cockpit. He did not have time for this. There. There was the sensor screen. The first contacts were showing up on it, and showing up as friendlies. Which given that he had not touched the IFF settings was a bad sign. He was already, effectively, down two Stars. This was not looking good.

Ah! There was the comms settings. He adjusted the frequency to 117.69 – Hopefully, Star Captain Tseng was on their way. All he had to do was hold out until then. He listened as Rauda passed out positioning orders – They had decades fighting alongside each other, knew each other better than anyone and her troop dispositions were exactly what he’d have ordered – while he continued to work out the control scheme,

All he had to do was hold.

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not