#and having to use every possible excuse to claim that character is actually a monster

[feynavaley]

I keep seeing people claiming things that straight-up contradict canon about America and Canada's dynamic, so I'm going to clarify a couple of points.

What's canon: Canada makes America cry after insulting him at length during an argument. Once. (The other time, we don't get to see America's reaction, even though we can certainly surmise he doesn't take it well.)

What's NOT canon: Canada constantly bullies (or even abuses!) America, treats him horribly and believes to be above him.

As I have already stressed, Canada makes America cry at most two times in canon.

Now, this obviously isn't okay and I'm not claiming Canada's actions were right. However, people just love to dismiss the context. First of all, this isn't Canada just insulting America out of nowhere without a justification, they're in the middle of arguments. Not to mention, both times, America is the one who starts insulting Canada. (This is another thing people conveniently never mention.) Then, Canada answers and, with the spirits running so high, he definitely goes too far. Even so, there is a context that, without justifying it, does explain why he lashed out so.

Moreover, Canada insulting America definitely isn't their everyday dynamic. They're depicted at ease around each other numerous times, doing activities and spending time together. All instances in which both of them are nice and friendly, clearly enjoying what they're doing. To make this even clearer, in most of their interactions, Canada shows no hostility towards America and is, instead, very kind to him.

Lastly, regarding the assumption that Canada feels superior to America... that one is explicitly denied in canon. Canada does have some issues with America's behaviour, this much is true. However, he believes himself to be overall inferior to America, not superior. He explicitly says so.

With all this, I'm not trying to claim that Canada is perfect or that he never does anything wrong. Just like every person, he has his limits and flaws and even though he's generally nice and accommodating, he can reach the breaking point when put under a lot of stress and then, make mistakes. But not being perfect all the time doesn't make him a bad person either. Not when that faulty behaviour is so different from his normal one.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

You know what? Even though they depicted Aemond as an absolute cartoonish villain, I'm actually on his side because no matter how hard they try to ruin him (and are succeeding) the fact is that he's the only one who actually wants to fight. He is basically everything that's left of TG. Also, that scene on the balcony with Helaena made me feel bad for him because I think he genuinely cares about her, sees her value and acknowledges their bond (come with me to Harrenhal, help me destroy Daemon's army) . And it looked like he had a tear in the eye? It's much more than manipulation, there is something deep age genuine between them. I'm just sad they didn't have more scenes together and that they used Helaena only to make him look worse. The actors at least tried to save something of all that mess so there's that. Also, I really hate how the fans, especially TG fans, are justifying Aegon and even Alicent to some extent, but Aemond is to blame for everything?! How about no? Moreover, I hate what they did to Aegond in the Rook's Rest, but the thing is, even with Aegon and Sunfyre, the greens would be in a great disadvantage (we saw that Sunfyre is no match for Meleys, let alone vermithor, silverwing or caraxes, and Aegon is not much of a fighter either) so they would still need Dreamfyre and Helaena. That's why his request isn't about him being a crazy monster trying to force Helaena to fight (also, would people stop infantilize her), not is actually reasonable.

I won't talk about Daemon's vision and his and Rhaenyra's scene because it's stupid and corny af, but I must say that what deeply pains me is Alicent's character assassination. They literally made her betray her side twice (in ep 3 and now,) coz she practically agrees to Aemond's (and Aegon's) death and promises to open the city gates?? . And for some reason a big chunk of TG think that her actions are more justifiable than Aemond's?? She literally killed TG. And it pains me since she, Aemond and Aegon were my faves.

Anyway, sorry if this was too long. Always love to read your opinions so I had to vent. This is also my farewell to this horrible excuse of the show.

Hello!

As for Alicent - I do love her, and I try my best to keep my frustration about the things the script had her do this season directed at the writers. But damn. The "men bad, women good" agenda destroyed her character - but looks like that's not the main things the wokes care about. To them Alicent remains a decent person as long as she is not siding with her sons (especially Aemond). And the worst thing is that basically since the beginning of this season the writers have been hammering home the idea that there is no such thing as "team Green" (marketing be damned) as a unit. In the words of TB actors (I believe it was Bethany who said it first, though I might be mistaken) "They all hate each other".

And I am totally with you on the matter of Aemond remaining the only one among TG (at least those we know as we haven't met Daeron yet) who is still willing to fight. Rhaenyra literally tells Alicent she will have to eliminate all competition for the throne - and that includes not only Aegon but Aemond and Daeron as well. And people are still claiming that Aemond is wrong for trying to make his mother understand that her actions (or inaction) put all of their family into danger.

Aemond's scenes with Helaena became just a couple of tools used to make Aemond look bad, indeed. It's literally visible through Ewan and Phia's acting that they tried to show there's more to it - but it's nigh impossible to fight against the script in such cases. Ewan utters "I could have you killed" in the most vulnerable way possible - but it's still a death threat towards his sister, and many people will see it as nothing more than that.

I mean, Phia literally said that Helaena feels safer with Aemond than with Aegon and from each and every Ewan's interview where he mentioned Helaena it was clear that he likes and cherishes her character. But writers just had to ruin this relationship as well - and in such a dumb way.

Aemond's request about her joining the war might be questionable - but, once again, to me it felt like it was not even about Helaena potentially being endangered or her trauma as much as it was about her, a woman, not wanting to fight in a "men's war".

Thank you for showing your appreciation! May your next viewing experience be much better that what we had with HoTD👿

[foreverautumn89]

@linklonk06

I completely agree with you. You're right. I know they'll never like Jonathan. Because the real reason the anti-jonathan st fans hate Jonathan is because of how he looks. Their: ''Hes ugly'' comments every 5 seconds don't help keep it a secret either. It's not about anything else. The anti-Jonathan fans made that perfectly clear a bunch of times. They're shallow and hung up on his looks and everyones looks [another way they're like the town of Hawkins btw]

And since its about looks and Jonathan/Charlie's looks are never going to change, so then the fans are never going to change thier attitude towards him and they're going to continue to bash him and make up lies and paint him as a villain in scenes where he was a victim you know the usual…

Looking at this logically: The real reason why they hate Jonathan isn't because of anything hes done. They're just excuses for their bad behavior. Because if it was about stuff hes done wrong then why doesn't that mentality apply to all their favorite characters then? there are SO SO many characters on this show that they adore or sympathize with who have done a lot worse and intentionally done horrible things intending to hurt ppl while jonathan only did something bad ONE TIME which was an accident and he apologized for [but according to them he didn't-another lie they tell].

AND the fans had to even blow that situation out of proportion that whole scene and claim it was something completely different than what it actually was so they could make him look really bad. And they added lies on top of it that almost all the other fans took as the holy gospel too.

Oh thats another way they make it obvious what its really about// why they really hate Jonathan: So you know how when they try to explain to us why they hate Jonathan so much/why we should hate Jonathan and we're horrible ppl if we don't…

It's about how BOGUS their reasons and excuses always are.

so...they either straight up lie about something hes done OR its always some far fetched take on it that you don't understand how they reached that conclusion. Or it was it explained on the show already that it was a misunderstanding. [S1] for example.

But they ignore that and keep up with their narrative on it anyway. that Jonathan is a monster and a pervert ext ext even though they've been proved wrong already or their conclusion was so wild and far fetched and grasping at straws that you don't even know where they got that idea from.

So either they're all delusional and can't follow a straight line or possibly never even watched the show and just are getting their info on it from tumblr OR they know they're fully aware that they are full of it and lyijng and making stuff up and its really about his looks [that they also make it a point to bring up and bash every 5 seconds]. Add to that: that they excuse the other characters bad behavior if they find them attractive even when those ppl have done REALLY HORRIBLE UNFORGIVEABLE THINGS especially when compared to Jonathan, but they forgive those ppl, but Jonathan is a villain.

It's just like 1+2=3. It's just that simple.

And in the cases of some of these anti-jonathan ppl: we are talking about ppl who defend Vecna here. Now I'm all for playing devil's advocate and trying to understand a character and see their depth but this is something different. they can understand yk somehow like Vecna and sympathize but you can't with Jonathan? What does Vecna have that Jonathan doesn't? Hmm….. lets think Fans react to Vecna: 'I love him. hes so so hot I want him to Vecna me' Fans react to Jonathan: I hate him and omg he's so ugly'

Its not a big mystery what its really about. They tattle on themselves and I don't think they realize it.

So trying to argue with them about the things Jonathan has done wrong [most of which they misunderstood/or spun it to make him look like the villain/or they're just straight up lies] is pointless. It's not going to make them see reason because thats not the real reason why they ever hated Jonathan in the first place.

[ca-suffit]

It's so annoying when Nalyra and this book group use excuses like this as if we're all dumb. There's lots of people who talk about the books and the show without being racist about it. The deeper issue here is not because people haven't read the books and think what you're saying is shocking.... What's really happening is that this group of BFFs loves to remove all mention of race from everything. They love pretending you can just overlay the books to the AMC show and it's a perfect match. Then, when anyone mentions how important it is to factor in race when discussing these things, here comes the screaming victimhood and all the "it's what's in the book" gifs. The "I'm sorry you just can't handle gothic literature SWEETIE" attitudes that are v tiring. Any race can be racist too (isn't that this group's favorite line too, they should know....) and only care for the wellbeing of white fandom, so these brown emojis or black fans who will make callout lists on other black fans under the language of calling out "fandom issues" or "antis" aren't fooling anyone to what the real motivation is behind it. People who worship Anne Rice are always going to be airheads who can't take criticism because look at your girl and all she was ever doing. Any adult who wants to defend her or the books is not a critical thinker or an intellectual. It's v possible to discuss her and the books without the stan goggles on. The black fans this group is always sneering at do it all the time. That's probably where the real issue lies, because it's done much better than the horseshit fanon Nalyra, Virgnia, and the rest are slinging and thinking is epic meta or something. I lurked for a long time before coming here to start pointing this out. I've seen these egos get bigger since the show has been off the air and book people crawled out from the depths to try and tell everyone "what's going to happen." It's a stupid power trip and nothing else. This group doesn't have the ability to analyze anything like they think they do, so they've grown together since the show stopped airing to start harassing other fans and pretend they're the victims just because they don't think talking about race is important in their....erm...."analysis" lol. They only think they have power because the fandom became smaller when S1 ended. They're gonna be muted again when it comes back because they aren't keeping up with the themes of the show and their takes aren't interesting. Saying the white man is always innocent, the black man is lying, the brown man is manipulative is what society already does. It's boring and it's not what the show has shown us in its own canon that it's doing. This group and white fandom in general love to take an inch and run a mile with it. Whenever anyone (but especially Jacob) mentions Louis might be a liar or an unreliable narrator they're jumping on the chance to spread that statement over every part of the story. They want so much for all of it not to be true because they need Lestat to be the good guy. They always claim they love stories about monsters except their favorite white guy can't even stay a monster for them to adore him. He can't ever even be any kind of fuck up and grow from it, he's just supposed to immediately be perfect. What's the point of the story then ffs? This is why you need to read other books that aren't written by idiot, egomaniacal authors who don't have editors and are in love with their own creations. If you always find a way to excuse the white characters, say all the black and brown characters are the unreliable, scheming ones, and scream and yell "it's what's in the books" whenever anyone reminds you to notice race......then you're just racist, girl. It's not even a mystery lol so stop this crap like you're fooling anyone. You can be as loud as you want but it doesn't mean you're actually a victim of anything but your own racist stupidity. Just because Anne Rice didn't get as much pushback as she deserved in her dumb life doesn't mean you're going to get the same treatment. It's 2024, bitch.

[nightshadow2518]

Okay so long time ago I wrote a process analyzation of tremolo stating that he does not really like these girls but rather he likes cards because he usually calls his cards cutie and this episode kind of proved me right in a way, finish the sub so let me talk about it. (Before I do please keep in mind that I'm not trying to change anyone's opinion I am just tellin scrollg you what I've analyzed from this episode if you do not like it, scroll away. I'm good with any respectful debates or criticism but if you're just going to disagree with me harshly and say something out of pocket, I will not be responding to it. Delete it ignore it but I will not be acknowledging you)

Now when we see the mermaids for the first time I actually thought that they were the duel monsters or as I was thinking while the episode was subbed before watching it that maybe he made them in the girls image as a way of sharing tribute to their loyalty and respect for them. However we find out that's not the case as he says "I hired you because of your resemblance to them" and "your secretary names were all so choosing by me" and the question their hairstyles "yes because they were also made by me" this is rather creepy and kind of controlling because this means we don't even know how they really look besides that maybe their faces actually look like the mermaids? What this means is that tomorrow only had chose them because of a superstitial fact that they look like cards and less that he probably chose them because of anything like their ability to do any task for him, if he even respects them or not, etc. now this is not out of character for tremolo because I feel like we're all forgetting that he is possessive and remember he treats his cards almost as if they are living beings so seeing three beautiful women who look exactly like the cards he saw he found a way to sort of control them. Although he tries to deny this this could possibly be him not realizing how creepy it is at the moment and what he uses to excuses is that at the time they thought it was cute but keep in mind that they're obsessed with him. Obsession and love are two different things, though sometimes they will toe to toe the fact that the matter is that they're more described as obsessed with him and not in love. They also seem genuinely creeped out by this and it started making me think of a theory

What if the girls are actually not human or duel monsters but some form of alien. Keep in mind that not all aliens have the type like Velgears. We seen Zaion, Chupa, and Fisher all have eyes that kind of resemble the humans. Angie also has horns that kind of resembles the ones that Pawnsters have. And keep in mind the major thing that space dragons ATTRACT aliens. Cuz why would he need to go this far into changing everything about them and claim to love them when he's not really getting to love the real versions of them but more the superstition ones that he created? Why would they go along with it? Unless they feel compelled to do it because they can't understand why they're so drawn.

And this pretty much concludes my analysis of this episode, The girls and Tremolo. Overall, I still Like Tremolo since he's been my favorite and every time I see him I get a little happy. My opinions of the girls changed because I went from not liking them to now just feeling bad about every time I see them since what the heck does this all mean?? Given this show it's probably going to get wrapped up into his creepy obsession is actually his way of loving people....yikes...also Yuhi and Yuamu are so real for also thinking that it's gross. As for the ship overall? Ehhhh yk what, maybe we don't need a polyamorous tremolo. Maybe he needs therapy and these girls need to quit their job and move to another town. Didn't already like this ship at all but now I'm more disgusted

[overthinkingtaleblr]

Tell me more about your Acachalla parents hc pls?

My Acachalla Parents Headcanon Masterlist

I don't think you wanted me to answer like this, but I was excited to use this as a jumping-off point. I hope that's okay! This is a couple days late but I had so much to say ^^; there’s a chance I’m still missing stuff, and I mostly focus on their relationship!

When it comes to two quasi-immortals getting together in middle age and having to raise a bunch of children after collecting enemies like it was a hobby for most of their life… no one can beat the Acachalla Parents. Papa Acachalla with his murderous ex-gangs and ex-spouses, and Gertrude with her frequently changing identity as she hides from literal space cops. Between the two of them, it’s surprising that either of them wound up assumed to be the “wholesome” parent, since I’m not sure that’s actually possible for either of them. The best part about the energy they bring to this relationship is that they Both bring it together.

While I don’t know if they’re in love in canon, to me there is nothing that means more to me than these two entities of murder and chaos swooning over each other. There is no i can fix her, there is no i can make him worse, they like the other for who they are now. Warts and all… So how did we get here?

General Headcanons

Controversial of me to myself, but I’m not reviewing old videos for this and I’m barely looking at the wiki. When I say all of this is in my head, I mean that literally.

Billion Year War - Gertrude is one of many characters who does not appear during the BYW arc, even though Papa appears frequently. Since Papa was kind of the cause of the war, it’s possible that he finally managed to do something bad enough that she couldn’t excuse it anymore.

Crimes - Papa is known more for his criminal behavior, but Gertrude has been a menace. Being together didn’t mellow them out, it’s only made them worse. I say that with love.

Date Night - Part of the reason why the kids have so many unsupervised adventures is because the adults drop them off somewhere random and tell them to have fun so that they can have some peaceful hours to themselves. This often involves getting them distracted before leaving as quickly as possible since the faster kids can and will chase the car home if they weren’t up for the day trip.

Paranormal Visitors - Not every ghost at the Acachalla house is a stranger, and most of them are from the pasts of the parents. When the hauntings first started, they usually pretended like they had no idea as to what ghosts they had a history with would want with them. After multiple years of this and some establishment of trust, they concluded that their connection doesn’t matter, what does matter is keeping their family safe first and foremost. They still don’t bring the topic up, but they’ll actually argue with ghosts now for being petty. It also makes it easier to work with PIE.

Raising Monsters - I’m sure only one of them would even jokingly refer to the Acachalla children as monsters, and only two technically qualify, but still. There is no way that they’ve gotten their act together yet— boy have they tried, but that just means they’ve failed. They’re not doing a bad job raising the kids overall, but they’re frequently overwhelmed and confused and there’s no guide for how to take care of your daughter who can turn into a demon or you son who claims to be a god. I think the chaos makes their organized moments all the more rewarding to Gertrude and Papa.

Relationship History HC

Crossing Paths in Cowboy Times

Gertrude is actually older than Papa by a lot, being a Gingarian alien. She arrived on the planet running from space police for crimes against her world that her family committed. She stayed flighty, moving from place to place on Earth to avoid being caught, and eventually finding herself in the middle of New Mexico during what would be come to be known as the “Wild West”

She intentionally chose a town that outlawed guns, knowing that she’d be able to crowbar anybody who aimed to do her harm and chose to work at a bank.

Papa Acachalla was running the Acachalla Gang while the real leader, his older brother, was dealing with a magical ailment no one understood. This was soon after he left his boyfriend to die when a heist went wrong, and he was having a really hard time keeping his head in the game. He probably would have lied about being sick if he wasn’t the only option.

Unsure who to bring with him with the list heavily exhausted, he decided to bring his younger cousin, Maxwell, allegedly to “get the kid some experience”. Real answer: he was out of options and desperate for an extra pair of hands. Maxwell trusted him, though.

Papa let Maxwell take the lead, borderline dissociating in the meantime while he wallowed in his own shame.

Gertrude, recognizing the Acachallas to be something that wasn’t human, mistook them for being apart of the police force she was running from. Taking advantage of the smaller one’s nativity, Getrude allowed him to come toward the money before bludgeoning his head in and threatening his partner.

Papa snapped back to reality in time to see what was about to happen, but wasn’t able to bring himself to warn Maxwell. He didn’t have the strength, physical or mental, to go up against this woman to get the kid’s body, either. Sputtering excuses, he turned and left when she told him to.

A diffferent group met the Sheriff at the town border a day later to pick up the body and take him home, though the woman who killed him was kicked out of town before they could ask for vengeance.

Though the local sheriff was happy to see the Acachallas leave them alone, Gertrude still got heavily chewed out for killing a child, especially in such a brutal manner. Not understanding where she went wrong, she sounded like a monster when pried for her thought process, making the Sheriff inclined to kick her out of the town. She was ready to go on the road again, anyways.

The Union of Acachallans in New Mexico started disappearing soon after this incident, the tragedy proving to be the last straw most of the inhabitants could take. Papa was left feeling solely responsible for the disintegration of both his metaphorical and literal family.

It wasn’t until years later that Gertrude came to understand how vulnerable humans are when they’re young, and this incident would start to haunt her as she realized she severely overreacted and someone died for it.

The first time the two met, they accidentally screwed over the other’s sense of normalcy and changed their life direction seemingly for the worst, all over a heist gone wrong… and they never even got the other person’s name.

First Connection

After almost two hundred years worth of downward spiraling between the both of them, Gertrude and Papa Acachalla truly met each other for the first time, entirely across the country from their initial interaction.

Papa didn’t jump around too much, it’s more like the world was moving too quickly around him. He entered and exited romances, he started working at a 7-11 when it first opened and found himself the manager and borderline owner just by being there, and he only got the house because he initially moved in with roommates who all left him. He had family in the area, but he never took the time to actually see them. He was drifting.

Gertrude on the other hand was rapidly oscillating from place to place, moving too quickly to really settle down anywhere. She would walk in, burn bridges, walk out. If her reputation in a cluster of towns got too high, she’d take a train to the next state and start over from scratch. Wasn’t just jobs and relationships, but her sense of self as well, Gertrude caught onto any new trend that passed her by, but got bored of it quickly. Part of her was only doing it to hide from the aforementioned space police, the other part of her was desperate for a sense of belonging.

So that’s how an overworked yet overpayed Papa Acachalla encountered an emo phase Gertrude in his 7-11.

I’m not entirely sure what happened next, but two things need to happen before Gertrude moves in with Papa. First and obviously, the two need to connect, actually communication with each other. The second is that Gertrude needs to encounter the space cop who’s been looking for her.

The way I’d suggest this is that Gertrude ends up trying to live inside the 7-11 without Papa noticing, he absolutely catches on like the second day but doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t care enough to bother.

The two eventually begin to chat from across the building, relating to each other a lot partially because of how secretive they both were being about their past. After a couple weeks, she basically became his unpaid front-desk buddy.

They’d sit in silence for most of the day, only really talking over meals. Sometimes Papa would order takeout if Gertrude mentioned being sick of noodle cups. They were beginning to get along.

After awhile of this becoming the new normal, the aforementioned Gingarian Space Cop (he’s an actual character, he’s named Agent Knock), comes in looking for someone of a different name, but it’s real obvious that Gertrude has been hiding since he came in.

Papa decides he’s siding with her over whatever galactic federation is in charge even if she WAS wrong and flaunts his metaphorical power as an Acachallan to get the Agent to leave.

Before feeling safe enough to be relieved as Agent Knock leaves, Gertrude realizes that Papa would technically be able to harbor her as a criminal. First thing she does when it’s all over is turn to Papa and ask if he had room for someone else in his house.

Again, overpaid, Papa doesn’t need a roommate financially. He does, however, live in a massive house that gets lonely, and he’s aware that Gertrude might just up and leave if the Agent comes back, so after a bit of waffling to tell himself that he’s not going soft, she’s just twisting his arm on the matter, he agrees to let her stay with him so long as she keeps her head down.

It’s not important for the list but Gertrude Does eventually kill Agent Knock good for her.

Adjusting to Domesticity

Two explicit criminals who previously incidentally ruined each other’s life— now living together under one roof, might fall in love.

Might have already fallen in love, but who’s keeping track.

Sadly for fanfiction tropes, there was very much not one bed in the house, so they wound up sleeping on different floors entirely in the beginning.

Gertrude hasn’t had a steady place to live in a long time. She keeps her belongings in one place so she can grab it all and leave at a moment’s notice if her good fortune suddenly sours. It isn’t that she distrusts Papa or what seems to be his kindness, but… it wouldn’t be the first time something didn’t work out for her.

The last time someone else lived in the house with him, Papa Acachalla was counting the days until they left and he’d have the freedom to do whatever he wanted with his own space. Now that they’re gone, nothing’s changed. Without having someone to interact with, the days began to blur together and nothing felt like it was worth doing.

Even just living together is enough to make life a little bit easier for both of them. Gertrude doesn’t realize it, but she’s stopping Papa from slipping into another stupor, and Papa is fully aware that his family reputation is keeping her safe.

It doesn’t take long for both of them to adjust to each other’s company, and when the children get added to the family dynamic as well, they grow closer as partners-in-crime (that crime is caretaking) as well.

As emotionally immature as they both can be, it isn’t the first time either of them had caught feelings like this. They’ve been burned before. With any luck, it’ll turn out okay this time around.

Optional: There is a chance that Billy and Sally entered Papa's life before Gertrude. I never considered it before now, but it would be very interesting for Gertrude to come in not just to Papa, but his adopted children as well. Lecture him for letting them get away with not eating their veggies.

Parenthood Attempt

Despite both of them having experience, to say either of them knew what they were doing when taking on the challenge of raising several children would be a lie.

Papa feels like people depending on him has only led to hurting them in the past, so he has a tendency to push the kids away, pretending like Gertrude is the only one who wants them there. If the kids ever claimed that Papa didn’t care about them, though, he would cry.

Gertrude tries her best to come off as responsible, but that’s because she knows they’re all human-ish. No matter how strong they seem, they will always be fragile compared to her. They won’t be able to survive forever, and she doesn’t know what injury might be dangerous enough to be their last, thus her protective parenting style.

Papa accidentally got Billy involved in a lot of stuff he was too young for and tried passing it off as after-school activities.

In fact, most of Papa’s group bonding activities are crime based… because the only other time he ever had to parent someone, his main interest was the gang Papa was in.

Gertrude genuinely thought Spencer was just low-maintenance until he one day vented about how much he felt like crap and she realized he was actively not taking care of himself and realized no matter how much he pushed away, he DID need her to make an effort.

Neither Gertrude or Papa know how to talk on the PTA without sounding absolutely insane, and both are fully aware that the other parents are counting the days until their kids all graduate.

If you asked if Maddie counted as one of their kids, Gertrude would explain that she was just a close friend who could be seen as a daughter if you really wanted, but surely she had other parents and they couldn’t just adopt someone illegally. Papa would think about it before going ‘sure, she’s one of ours’.

Johnny Ghost is an honorary Acachalla kid and almost had a stroke when he found out.

It’s mostly because he’s an ill-tempered orphan who frequents the house and can keep up with the chaotic energy of the kids and adults, and both the parents HAVE had to… well, parent him in a tense situation before. They’ve grown attached, he’s theirs now.

Addendum: ghost is not an orphan, he has a dad. He is so confused as to why they think he is an orphan but doesn’t want to tell them in case they decide the answer is to MAKE him an orphan.

Rapid Fire HCs

Gertrude proposed, but the rings are Papa’s. She used a random object as a stand-in for a ring since she didn’t know Papa’s ring size, and this gave Papa Acachalla time to tell his mother and for her to pass along his parent’s wedding rings like an heirloom. It was very touching for both of them.

If they didn’t accidentally screw over each other’s lives, they wouldn’t have gotten together. They both needed a hit to their pride to get the world into perspective. Before, Papa was too egotistical, and Gertrude was a little bit out of control.

Gertrude has a larger criminal record than Papa, but she lets Papa take the lead for larceny and stuff. Papa actually knows how to steal— Gertrude’s crimes are predominantly war crimes, planetary eviction, and murder.

Papa and Gertrude both like doing grand gestures, but they love the unplanned soft moments more. The tender moments. Their lives have been too action-packed to not appreciate the change in pace.

Sometimes shaving your husband’s back in a dark bathroom is a tender moment, idk.

Both have a skill-based preference when it comes to chores. Not because either are good, but more because there is one task they’re terrible at. Papa is a bit too experimental in the kitchen, and Gertrude mixes the wrong cleaning supplies. They’re happy to take the other responsibility if it means everyone in the house doesn’t die.

They keep secrets from each other, on purpose and on accident. When there are so many skeletons in your closet, it’s hard to know which ones should be dug up and which ones can stay. They’ve learned not to be too judgmental when the past gets dredged up.

Papa and Gertrude both come from absolutely massive families that they’ve been basically exiled from due to bad behavior.

Gertrude is on the space equivalent of a “no-fly list”, so any time they want to travel with her, they either have to fake her passport and identity… or find their own, unofficial methods.

Papa Acachalla is haunted by Jose Jose Jose Jose, who I like to see as an incredibly bitter ex. You’d think this would be difficult for Gertrude, but I think it’d be funnier if she and the vengeful spirit wound up besties.

On the other hand, Maxwell fucking hates Gertrude. Even if Papa didn’t recognize her from the incident, Maxwell did. It caused a bit of a relationship hiccup, but they worked through it.

Both Gertrude and Papa were disowned by their family after an incident that killed most of the ones they were close with, only difference is that Gertrude’s family still refuses to talk to her and Papa’s reconnected with his mother.

Papa has to do the taxes because last time he asked Gertrude to do it she told him she had a brilliant idea and explained tax fraud to him. He does not want to fight the IRS again, so he let her down gently.

An Alternate Understanding of their relationship is one that is more… “Should have been divorced a decade ago” but weirdly tongue-in-cheek and self-aware of the toxicity. I don’t like to do that one anymore because I prefer the conflicting tenderness of active criminals being caring and tender, but that read requires Papa to be genuine every time he says he doesn’t see the others as Family.

Songs and Why

- Tangled up by Caro Emerald (Remix)

“You’re quite the same | If love’s the game”

Yes, I was an animation meme kid growing up and this song has a soft spot in my heart now. I try to push it aside for these two, though. I want them to dance, and this song has a good beat!

[bohemian-nights]

You want to self-insert to Netty so badly you want to put a brown teen girl to be groomed and be placed in between an ongoing marital dispute. It's disgusting how you talk about her. You want her to "save" some evil man from evil "dumbnyra" liek your misogyny is so transparent. You sound like every delusional 'i can fix him' stan. You hate this character so much you weaponize another woman for it. If you don't see the racial and social undertones in the way daemon grooms her (e.g. teaching her about hygiene and manners) there is something wrong with you for you to want this pairing. Some of us netty enjoyers like her because she's an underdog claiming a wild dragon. We don't want to see her as a prop to some man's "redemption" like you so want here.

One, you won’t even acknowledge that Netty is Black. Why am I going to take your claims of misogyny seriously when you and yours perpetuate Black erasure and misogynoir?

Two, Nettles is an adult by Westeros standards.

Three, I have stated numerous times I don’t believe someone who could tame a wild dragon didn’t know how to bathe herself(and if you believe she could not bathe herself yet she could claim Sheepstealer that’s a reflection on your perception of a character like Netty. You can drop the I’m a fan of Netty act).

Nettles was a homeless young woman. She didn’t have access to bathing facilities, but she definitely knew how soap and water worked 🙃Daemon more than likely taught her etiquette for court life and he gifted her things that she didn’t have because again she was freaking homeless 🤦🏽‍♀️ He did what he did because he loved her and wanted to make sure that she’d be able to navigate in her new life. Not because he was grooming her.

Daemon isn’t a good person. He’s selfish and he commits some of the most heinous acts during the Dance. However, he isn’t a total monster. He has his moments and Netty is one of them.

If he had actually groomed her and didn’t genuinely love her he would've let Rhaenyra’s orders be carried out(or he would’ve gone back “home”) because she had become an inconvenience.

Four, Netty more than likely will be aged up on the show. So since you won’t be able to say but but 17 isn’t legal in our world, you guys will need to come up with a better excuse not to ship Dettles than “OMG you want her to be groomed.”

Five, do I have to quote myself again🙃 You want to talk about racial undertones yet you won’t acknowledge that the one who abused/tried to abuse Nettles was Rhaenyra. She’s the one who tries to commit a racially motivated hate crime after saying her husband can sleep around(see Mysaria whose white in the books), but just not with Black women and he most certainly can’t fall in love with them. I don’t have to make Rhaenyra into a villain. She is one when it comes to Netty 🤷🏽‍♀️

White women can be just as harmful to Black women as men(Rhaenyra shows that). The sisterhood often doesn't extend to us so miss me with the misogyny crap when there is a white woman calling a Black woman a “low creature” and trying to murder a her(when she’s possibly pregnant) in her sleep all over sleeping with her husband who she has an open relationship with.

So let’s not get it twisted, I’m not weaponizing my fave to attack yours. I’m pointing out the wrongdoings of your fave to mine. Wrongdoings which you ignore because pointing out even a fictional white woman’s racism makes you uncomfortable.

Lastly, I care about Nettles as a whole. I’m constantly talking about her, creating gifs and moodboards for her, and speculating on her casting(which is a whole other fiasco), but you people always zero in on me shipping her with her Daemon (which is canon, but you people want to ignore it cause it makes your self-insert look like she’s not the end all be all).

Nettles story is more than just her relationship with Daemon(and I don’t think she “fixes him,” he comes to realize a lot of stuff himself of what is and isn’t important during the Dance), but he’s very much a part of that story, and as I’ve said before, showing Black women in romantic relationships in media is important.

We don’t need any more strong independent Black women who don’t need a man stereotypes perpetuated. So if you want to ignore that to try and make their relationship abusive(when it isn’t), or make her into a sexless Mammy who only lives to serve Rhaenyra because that’s the position you are comfortable with Black women being in, that’s a you and your inherent biases issue.

You guys refuse to acknowledge the importance of her relationship with Daemon because you don’t and never will identify with or self-insert into Black characters. You’re never forced to see Black character's humanity. You just see them as accessories to your actual self-inserts and since Nettles isn’t a stereotype(she’s objectively one of the more interesting characters in the Dance and she's the girl getting rescued) you want to make her into one.

Don’t get mad at me for recognizing and calling out you people on your crap. Do better.

[thesolferino]

⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Been thinking about what Mordred's life in Camelot would've been like if Merlin didn't hate him and then thought about how if Morgana was around she would probably always give him her favor at every tournament (until he married) and the other knights would tease him for that so have a broad outline for a Beloved Characters Dont Turn Evil AU

Morgana discovers her magic and Merlin swears to her that he'll protect her. He comforts her when she's scared and Merlin begs Gaius to share his knowledge and suspicions about Morgana to Morgana herself. One night Morgana bursts into their quarters in hysterics, waking them up, screaming and sobbing, and it feels like Merlin's hug is the only thing holding her together but its not enough. Glass starts shattering, candles flare, chandeliers fall to the ground. Gaius decides at this point not telling her will do considerable more harm than not, to both herself and others. They stay up through the night. Gaius speaking and Morgana asking questions, Merlin with a supportive hand on Morgana's shoulder. At one point Morgana tearfully asks the question Merlin asked Gaius long ago, "am i a monster?". They all fall asleep at the table, and that morning when Gwen arrives to wake Morgana only to find her absent with her blankets thrown over the bed and several things knocked over she runs and alerts the guards. The guards initiate lockdown and the commotion reaches Uther and wakes Arthur (Merlin is once again late), and they proceed to fear she was kidnapped right under their noses without anyone knowing. Arthur runs down to get Merlin so he can prepare him for the day only to open the door to find the three of them asleep on the table.

Later Merlin organizes for Morgana to learn more than Gaius can tell her from the Druids, but she intends to stay the night at least, if not then significantly longer (anywhere from a week to several months), and they have no good excuse for her to use that would allow her to leave without Gwen and guards. They come up with some very convoluted plan, which does not end up in the raid that occurred in canon, and when Gwen catches her sneaking back she lies and says she wanted to check up on Mordred (who she did run into), to see if he was with the Druid encampment that was rumored to be nearby (which he was). She didn't learn nearly as much as she hoped in those few hours, but they at least pointed her in a direction.

Morgause comes to town, and leaves Morgana her bracelet. After discovering it stops her visions Morgana takes it to Gaius, who reveals it was enchanted and looks similar to the one Lady Vivienne used to wear. Morgana states Morgause got it from her mother, but that Lady Vivienne was Morgana's mother and wonders how the bracelet ever got to Morgause. Gaius says there was a rumor that Lady Vivienne had a baby that displayed a affinity for magic, but Gorlois told Uther their baby had died before they even named her. Gaius reveals that the baby was smuggled out of Camelot and given to the High Priestesses, and Morgause might very well be that baby. Morgana begins to long for a connection with Morgause, to meet the sister she never knew of and recover something of her dead parents. When she begins secretly meeting Morgause, she tells Merlin and then asks him to come with her when she begins receiving lessons from her. Morgause tries to convince them that killing Uther is the right thing to do, but Merlin keeps reassuring Morgana that all they need to do is convince Arthur to change the law for when he is king, and he's not ready to do that now so theres no use in killing Uther before he's ready, and that she does love Uther and Uther does love her and would try to "fix" her well before he ordered her death. Morgause still wants him dead, to rush the prophecy of magic's return. Them sneaking out every few nights cements the idea that Morgana and Merlin are secretly dating in castle gossip.

Im not sure what happens with Morgause, but i think she would still take Camelot at some point and she would spare Morgana and by extension Merlin. Morgana and Merlin make sure to get Arthur out (and Merlin probably goes with him) because they dont trust Morgause to not kill him. Morgause reveals her heritage (and makes Morgana a Princess and her Heir) despite claiming the throne for people of magic and not the House of Gorlois, and the knowledge that Vivienne and one of her daughters were sorceresses leads Uther to believe he can not save Morgana from magic that is likely in her blood and THAT is what breaks his mental state. Morgana's real heritage is revealed soon after, with Uther informing Gaius that Morgana being a Princess is actually within her birth rights. Morgause continues Morgana's training because at some point Morgana has to become a High Priestess because canon. That or Morgause switches sides (this is a Beloved Characters Dont Go Evil AU might as well make it No Beloved Characters Are Evil AU) and she trains Morgana later after Arthur is a established King.

Morgause is overthrown and the Round Table formed. Arthur as well as several people in the castle know of or suspect Morgana of being a sorceress but he refuses to banish her, first believing it to have been out of her control (forced by Morgause) and later learning that her nightmares had been magic all along (how could he punish her for something he knows she had tried to get rid of for over a decade?). Perhaps he lets her keep the title of Princess, having always seen her as a sister (and someone who is compassionate for the people in a way royalty should be) and armed with the new knowledge of her being his actual sister. Everyone expects Regent Arthur to crack down on magic, its what Uther would have done and what the people want, so he does. Morgana becomes a advocate for magic, as she had been for Arthur in private as a Prince, and it scares people in the castle. They believe her to be working with Morgause, despite her arguments being for individuals' wellbeing and how punishments fuels hatred for Camelot. Several attempts are made on her life, many stopped by Merlin and Gwen and sometimes Lancelot. Arthur often "asks" Merlin for his opinion on magic and with Morgana's voice being public he feels okay with being straight with Arthur on what he thinks. Uther dies same as he did in canon: protecting Arthur from a assassination.

Mordred becomes a Knight because canon. Morgana is ecstatic to see him again and acts like a mother who hasn't seen her child in ages when she first sees him. Merlin has learned you often make the enemies that are destined to kill you (ex. trying to stop Morgana's visions from coming true) so he ignores Kilgharrah and doesn't hate Mordred (he is always wary though). Mordred alternates between childlike eagerness around the knights and following Merlin around while hero worshiping him (no one can figure out why. Their best guess is that Morgana is a mutual friend). In the beginning he kept messing up his name (calling him "Merlin" is just weird) and they often talk in their heads and therefore just stare at each other which has led to two conflicting rumors: theyre in love or they hate each other. Morgana often invites him to dinner, and when they dine with Arthur they easily slip into mind-talking (because chewing) and Arthur is convinced that they're making fun of him every time they do it. He protects Arthur when Merlin can't, often runs off to do side quests Merlin needs to do but cant get away to do, and often tags along with Merlin on his quests. Being able to share the knowledge of his destiny since Lancelot died (if he dies in this AU) relaxes Merlin's caution and allows him to be emotionally closer to him. Mordred enjoys being around Merlin and Morgana not just because he's Emrys and she's Morgana, but because they are the closest thing to home he has: they know what he is, they understand (bits) of his culture and make it possible for Mordred to share it with them, their individual magic sings strong enough to remind him of when he lived surrounded by it. He quickly grows to love them so very much and no one understands WHY. The knights tease him about it, and Morgana forcing Arthur to take Mordred on certain missions he isnt qualified for "so he can learn" does not help. Gwaine and Percival were planning to convince him that he couldnt compete in a tournament without a lady's favor because he's the rookie and his panicked look greatly amuses them only to find Morgana giving him her's before kissing his cheek. They were relentless after that, alternating between "lady's favors dont count if they're from your mom," "Mordred has a girlfriend," and whatever the medieval version of affectionately calling him "Bambi" is. Morgana sits in the stand's throne (since Arthur is competing) or besides it if Gwen is queen, and she flashes a smile at him when he comes out (Gwen too. He's a sweet kid with a baby face, of course he's one of her favorites. He also reminds her of Merlin when she first met him: kind, awkward, cute). This settles Mordred's nerves but has the unfortunate side effect of increased teasing. Merlin doesn't let it go to far, he never does, and gives them a distraction before running back to Arthur.

And then magic is brought back to the land and Morgana continues the work of the High Priestesses and helps the rebuilding efforts and they're still adventures and problems, but everyone Lives Happily Ever After

[kneworder]

Originally I was just going to leave this as an rb on my original post, but it got super long, so it’s getting its own. I don’t usually write meta, so I hope this makes sense, but here’re my thoughts on Klaus’ cult and how it relates to Allison!

Allison’s rumoring and Klaus’ cult are, in many ways, extremely similar, yet while one is treated as an inexcusable crime, the other is only brought in for comedic purposes.

Ultimately, Allison uses her power to take away the free will of the people around her, including those she loves. This is a direct result of her upbringing — being taught to cultivate and weaponize her ability leads her to having no real incentive not to use it, at least, until she faces consequences for it. I’m not going to try to excuse her actions, but my point is that neither is Allison: she’s making an active effort to change because she understands that what she did is wrong. This is a point directly acknowledged in-universe, what with her renouncing her ability and attempting to carve out a real life.

I don’t want to draw a false equivalency here — Klaus using his powers to exploit people because he sees it as his best possible means of survival in the completely new and extremely hostile environment that is the 1960s is extremely different from building an entire success story on top of lies and manipulation. However, it really should be addressed that starting a cult is objectively, an extremely messed up thing for him to do.

Let’s talk about cults for a moment: contrary to what Klaus and TUA might have you believe, one guy performing some unexplainable feats isn’t going to give him a following so devoted they abandon their lives for him. Cult leaders typically fall into a very specific personality type: narcissistic, manipulative, and charismatic, especially when they don’t believe in the higher purpose they preach. A cult only forms because its leader builds it, and they do that by exploiting the insecurities of its members. Someone who feels dissatisfied with life, who is suffering from societal pressure or serious mental illness, is going to be especially vulnerable to a cult’s reach.

No one joins a cult because they’re happy. No one joins a cult because it can genuinely save them. People join a cult because they want the answers and acceptance they’re not getting in their current life.

We don’t get to see too much into Destiny’s Children, but the character we get the most insight into is Jill. Jill gave up a Fulbright Scholarship to follow Klaus across the country — she willingly gave up an education that could have propelled her into an extremely successful future for him and his cult. And what does she get from him? Pithy sayings from 2000s hits? A ‘meeting of their multiple spirits’ in the sex swing? He doesn’t even remember her name!

Look, I’m not saying that Klaus is some irredeemable monster. All I’m saying is that despite how little Klaus seems to care for his cult in the canon few days we see him, he had three years previous to build his following — it didn’t just spring up out of nowhere. No matter how comically the show treats it, the creation of a cult is never going to be a benign process. People give up their lives. People give up their money. How exactly did Klaus get that mansion in Dallas? Even if it was gifted to him by the rich older woman we see him picked up by when he arrives, it would have been because she believed in his prophet status, what with his showing off his ‘levitation’ in front of her -- she would have given it to him because she believed in his lie.

Klaus exploits his followers for money and for sex, things they give him because they’ve completely bought into his proselytizing. I would argue that no matter how much they may claim otherwise, these are not things they’re capable of giving away of their own free will, they’re things they’re giving away under the false pretense of Klaus’ false godhood.

And this is where Allison comes back in. Allison’s power is, quite literally, manipulation. She is constantly reminding herself and others that working to give that up is deeply important, that no matter how terrible a person is, she doesn’t have the right to take away their free will. Klaus, on the other hand, has quite literally brainwashed himself an entire following. They treat him as a god and his words as scripture, they’re willing to tend to his every whim and every need. Yet unlike Allison, Klaus doesn’t seem to care that he’s essentially stripped these people of their free will. He only regrets the cult because their devotion is irritating, not because he actually cares for his members. Cults ruin lives, and Klaus being its leader does not make Destiny’s Children the exception.

Contrary to how it may sound, I actually don’t have a problem with this writing choice. I think finally getting to use his powers, which have been nothing but a source of suffering, to make himself rich and powerful is an extremely in-character thing for Klaus to do. He’s still struggling with addiction, he’s still mourning Dave, he’s been stripped of everything and everyone he’s ever known by the time jump: Klaus isn’t doing great himself. But, just as Allison’s upbringing doesn’t excuse her actions, Klaus’ circumstances don’t excuse his.

The only person who ever seems to acknowledge how genuinely messed up Klaus’ actions were is Ben, and even that can be dismissed as having ulterior motives because of Ben’s crush on Jill. My point is that in many ways, Allison and Klaus are guilty of very similar offenses. But while Allison’s entire character arc revolves around hers, Klaus’ are treated as comedic background noise.

Again, I don’t necessarily think this is poor writing, or something terribly out of character. I just wish the writers (and the fandom) would acknowledge that for a show that puts so much emphasis on the importance of free will, maybe having a character become a literal cult leader is something that should be addressed!

(Thank you to @chrrysodas​ for expressing interest, sorry this turned out stupidly long!!)

[falcon-eye]

Another ficlet featuring Cat OCs which will eventually become a part of a bigger story from @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! This one kinda got away from me, Idk. I wanted to include a little more info on my Cats but after a while I felt like I was rambling. I also feel like the tone is kinda all over the place. I like what I wrote, but Idk about how I wrote it, if that makes any sense. And I’m not satisfied with the ending. I also hope the “deal” makes sense too. Idk. I’m just generally sorry for how weird this one turned out. Any questions, even if they’re just about the characters, please shoot them my way! Hope you enjoy!

-

The Law of Surprise had never steered Veko wrong. Well, ok, that wasn’t exactly true. It had never fucked him over, anyway. Well...

Ok, see, many, many years before the White Wolf began his reign, Veko and his twin brother Hamra had been traveling with the Cat School’s caravan. They always had, ever since becoming Witchers, although they sometimes broke off for hunts either alone or with each other. Siblings were rare among Witchers, twins especially, and identical twins even more so. Plus, Hamra was... gentle—for a Witcher anyway. He hardly made eye contact and often didn’t talk until absolutely necessary for days at a time, often using signs when he didn’t want to (or couldn’t) speak. Veko was used to it, often either being able to decipher his brother’s signs and gestures, or filing in the blanks himself. This also meant he was frequently his brother’s “translator” of sorts. Despite mostly taking hunts together though, Veko, like everyone else in the caravan, needed a break from time to time. Especially from his brother’s guilty looks.

It’s common knowledge that Cats are the more... emotional of all Witchers, prone to mood swings, rages, and the occasional bloodlust. It’s just how the mutagens made them, as much a fact as the sky was blue. Didn’t make it any easier on any of them, though. Veko knew this all too well.

Although Hamra was quiet, generally incredibly awkward and painfully shy, he too could and had been taken over by his emotions. And unfortunately, Veko was always in the line of fire—literally. The fight had been... stupid. Probably. Now, years later, neither twin can remember what the it was even about, and none of the other Cats were paying enough attention to care. Hamra was too enraged to remember what happened and Veko. Well, Veko, whether he was trying to calm Hamra down or was truly fighting with him, took an Igni to the face at basically point blank range. Sure, the smell of cooking monster was one Witchers eventually got used to, but as it turns out, the smell of your own brother’s flesh burning from his face and neck snaps you out of a rage pretty well.

Veko was out of commission for quite a while, by Witcher standards. The left side of his face, from under his eye down his neck, and disappearing beneath his armor, was a permanent web of tight, puckered scarring. It wasn’t bad enough to lose his ear or anything, thankfully, and no actual holes in his skin, but it was big and grotesque enough that there was no possible way to hide it unless he covered his entire face. So Hamra had to look at his greatest mistake every time he looked at his brother, and Veko had to deal with the sour smell of guilt pouring off of his brother almost every waking moment.

So, yeah, he needed a break and a solo hunt every once in a while.

This one was about as basic as they get; bunch of drowners terrorizing a local village, no problem. Veko took them out with ease. Or so he thought. Going back to the village to claim his pay, he heard an old man crying for help and realized one of the drowners had broken off from the others. Just great.

The old man and the drowner both were stuck in thick mud, a pathetic sight as the man frantically tried to free himself as the drowner clawed at him. Veko literally walked up next to the creature and decapitating it, yanking the old man out of the mud while still in mid swing.

“Witcher!” the old man cried, his knees nearly buckling once he was on solid ground. “Oh thank you Witcher! How could I ever repay you?!”

Sheathing his swords, Veko chuckled. “I mean, coin never hurts.”

As Veko wiped the mud from his face, revealing his burns, the man paled. “I-I don’t... I-I don’t have any money on me,” he said. “Please, sir, there must be something else I can give you!“

Veko sighed. “Not a problem,” he said. “How about this—first thing you see when you get home, I’ll take that. I’ve got to get my pay from your village anyway. Why don’t I stop by your house in the morning?”

The old man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes sir Witcher!” he exclaimed. “I live on the edge of town, just a little farm, the one with the blue roof.”

“Blue roof,” Veko said, squinting at the old man. “Yeah, it’s suits you.”

The old man looked confused, but Veko waved him off and walked back to the village with him. Luckily, the alderman didn’t scrimp him over on pay, but it still wasn’t a great amount. However, despite actually being paid the amount he was promised, the local inn just so happened to be completely full. Whatever, you win some, you lose some. Pocketing his coin, Veko led his horse a little ways out of town and reluctantly set up camp.

Veko’s horse was a dun gelding, one of the several Law of Surprise claims and other non-coin payments Veko had made over the years. Once, he’d gotten a literal chicken dinner from a family (which he shared with them, godsdamned his bleeding heart). Another time, an old woman he’d saved from a werewolf offered him and Hamra her home for the night, and taught Veko how to knit when he couldn’t sleep. The horse was relatively new, having picked him up from a farmer with a bad wolf problem, and didn’t give two shits about the Witcher. Which was fine by Veko. He wasn’t close with his horses like some Witchers were. This was his eighth horse, appropriately named Eight.

Eight was a bastard of an animal, constantly biting at Veko’s fingers, clothes, weapons—really anything he could reach. He’d also literally kicked Veko in the ass a few times, and once right in the balls, to the entire caravan’s delight. Eight was also a particular fan of loudly chewing the bark off of whatever tree he was tethered to, which made trying to get peace and quiet a bitch. Not-so-secretly, Veko was hoping whatever the old man saw when he got back to his house was a different horse. It was too expensive to buy another one, and despite the fact that he and Eight hated each other, he’d never wish harm upon the animal. He just wanted to be rid of him, that’s all.

But when he arrived at the old man’s home the next day, horse, chicken dinner, knitting lessons—none of it came even close to what was waiting for him.

A petite woman in a pale blue dress covered in splatters of paint slammed the front door open as he approached. Her hair, brunette, was up in an approximation of a bun, but it was hard to tell as it was so messily put together and curled wildly where it escaped.

Veko saw the exact moment she saw his burn scars, but to his surprise, only faltered for a moment. “Witcher!” she shouted, marching right up to Veko and poking a paint-stained finger to his chest. “You can turn around and leave right now!”

Veko blinked down at her. “Uh, excuse me,” he scoffed, “I came here to get my payment. Who the hell are you?”

“Your bloody payment,” the girl hissed, throwing her arms out. “Surprise!”

“Eloise!” the old man Veko had saved came rushing out of his house, taking the woman’s hands in his. “Please, Eloise—“

“What in the hell is going on here?!” Veko exclaimed, making the old man flinch but the woman—Eloise—stood her ground.

“You asked my father to give you the first thing he saw when he came home, right?” she snapped. “Well I answered the bloody door, Witcher.”

Veko took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok, so this is just all a misunderstanding, I get it. I’ll just—“

“No, no!” the old man exclaimed as Veko turned back to his horse. “Please, Witcher, it’s the Law of Surprise, it’s destiny!”

“Fuck destiny,” Eloise spat. Veko had to agree. But the old man was frantic now.

“To-to go against destiny—“ he continued, before breaking off into a hacking coughing fit that actually had Veko concerned the man would drop right there.

Eloise calmed her father down and held him until his coughing subsided. “Please, papa, you’re going to overwhelm yourself.”

“Eloise, my darling,” the man choked out, “this is all my fault, but please, you cannot go against the Law of Surprise!”

Veko watched the two for a moment before clearing his throat. “Maybe—maybe we can work something out,” he said. Obviously the man was only getting more and more worked up as the conversation went on.

Eloise glared at Veko for a moment before crossing her arms. “It’s ok, papa,” she said, still glaring, “I’ll talk with the Witcher and sort this whole thing out.”

“Y-yeah,” Veko said. “Um. Do you wanna...?”

Eloise grabbed him—actually grabbed him, the balls on this woman!—by the arm and dragged him behind the house, towards a small stable and paddock where a few goats were housed.

“Alright, Witcher, listen,” Eloise snapped. “I don’t believe in all this ‘destiny’ bollocks. The Law of Surprise is bullshit.”

“Hey, I’m with you there,” Veko said. “I normally get like livestock or food or stuff like that.”

Eloise sighed and bit at her nail, staring out across the paddock. “My father believes in all of it,” she said. “My mother died when I was young. Destiny, papa always said. It’s garbage. But my father... he’s very old. I need to take care of him. Whether I believed in all that shit or not, Witcher, I cannot come with you.”

“And I don’t want you to!” Veko exclaimed. “I can barely take care of my horse properly, let alone a human. You’d get killed or something. Why would I want you to come with me?”

Eloise scoffed. “I can think of one reason,” she said bitterly. Veko rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, I’ve got two hands and enough coin set aside for that.”

Eloise actually cracked a tiny grin. “Regardless,” she said, “my father isn’t going to let this go. And I don’t want this to work him up anymore than it already has. I’m afraid for his health.”

“What do you suggest?” Veko asked.

Eloise thought for a moment. Veko’s scar started to itch. It always did at awkward moments, or at least it seemed to anyway, and this was about the most awkward situation Veko had ever been in. This woman was actually... strangely intimidating! Veko turned away to scratch at his face, which seemed to break Eloise out of her thoughts.

“Do you... want something for that?” she asked. “We have some salves in the house just... in case we...”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Veko said as she trailed off in thought. After another moment, Eloise suddenly clapped her hands together.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “I know how we can appease my father and still make this work.”

Veko nodded awkwardly. “That’s... good, yeah. Um—“

“This will be your home,” Eloise interrupted.

“I don’t follow.”

“Simple,” Eloise stuck a finger in the air. “You’re a Witcher—you travel. So you must spend a lot of the money you earn at inns and on food and things.”

“Or I just sleep outside,” Veko cut in. Eloise waved him off.

“We could tell my father that the Surprise you’ve claimed is the right to come here and stay whenever you’re in the area. Or rather, the right to my home as your home.”

“How does that factor you into it, though?” Veko asked.

“Technically my father saw the house before he saw me,” Eloise replied. “Plus, we could say that I’m a part of the house, that I keep it for you. Or that the house and I are a package deal.”

Veko crossed his arms. “Do you think he’d buy that?”

Eloise crossed her arms back. “He will if you say it.”

Veko ran a hand through his hair and blew out a puff of air. “This is crazy,” he said.

“You claimed the Law of Surprise, Witcher,” Eloise snapped, “not me.”

Veko started scratching his scar in earnest now. “Ok, but what about the village? What are they going to say about you being ‘claimed’ by a Witcher?”

“Frankly I don’t give a damn what they think.”

“What if you want to get married someday?”

Eloise guffawed. “See, that’s the other thing,” she said. “I don’t want to get married. Ever. Having a Witcher ‘claim’ me as his would get every man in town to leave me well alone. This helps all of us.”

As Veko thought on it, Eloise slapped his hand away from scratching his face again. At his shocked face, she merely glared back.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said. Eloise grinned.

“Why, because I’m not afraid of you?” She laughed. “You bleed just like the rest of us, Witcher. So what do you say?”

Eloise held out her hand and for a moment, Veko actually hesitated. Not because of the deal itself, but because this woman was truly unafraid of him, of seemingly anything, and it made him feel... vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. After a moment, Veko gently took her hand—and wow, she had a hell of a grip for a human woman, too! “Deal,” Veko said.

“Now to tell my father,” Eloise said, already starting to drag the Witcher back around the house.

As it turned out, Eloise’s father was thrilled with the idea. Eloise could stay with her father, destiny would be satisfied or whatever, and Veko would get free food and lodging whenever he was around (which probably wouldn’t be for a very long time anyway). The only problem was that Eloise’s father seemed to take Veko “claiming” his daughter and home as... well... essentially Eloise settling down with the Witcher “to start a family”. Veko was mortified but Eloise just smiled and nodded, going along with what her father said until he looked away and giving Veko a look that meant under no uncertain terms would that ever be happening.

A few details still had to be hashed out, but Veko wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this town as possible. How the hell had a drowner contract produced this much trouble?

Later, Veko reunited with the Cat caravan and Hamra. His brother chuckled softly at whatever look was on Veko’s face, and when Hamra signed asking how his hunt was, Veko groaned.

“Took out some drowners,” he said. “And... and Ham, I think... I think I got fucking married.”

Hamra actually burst out laughing, the first time the smell of surprise and amusement replaced the sour guilt that hung to his brother like a cloud, and Veko couldn’t help but join him.

Fuck the Law of Surprise, Veko thought. Never using that again.

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

He Calls Me Kitten (Yandere)

Trigger warning: It’s yandere so it’s gonna be abusive. Don’t kink shame me lol

This is actually part 2 read part 1 here.

This was written in response to a request: yandere taeyong x extra obedient submissive female reader? smut. whatever you think about ~♡ 

This is my first time writing smut, so I hope ya’ll like it. 

Taeyong X Reader Smut

It’s been a month since Taeyong threatened to hurt your friend. After you agreed to start following his rules, he locked you in your personal bedroom while he took her home. You have no idea how long he had her or how he managed to get her home without getting caught or even if he took her home at all. You still had no contact with the outside world so it wasn’t like you could send her a text or check in on her, All you knew was that if you disobeyed Taeyong you risked the lives of all those you care about, so you did what you had to. You submitted completely.

At first it was really difficult to follow his rules because there were so many and since you used to rebel against them, you never bothered to learn them. You were worried that Taeyong was going to hurt you or worse, someone you cared about even if you only made one mistake. That didn’t turn out to be the case. Taeyong could tell that you were making an effort to obey him, so he acted out of character and took mercy on you. That isn’t to say that you weren’t punished, just not punished harshly, like before. Punishments were changed to things like no dinner, receiving a harsh scowling, or losing the tv privileges for a day. After a week, punishments returned to physical violence, but instead of full on beatings, Taeyong would spank you as his main form of punishment.  

You did everything in your power to appease Taeyong. You figured that you would just have to accept the fact that this was your life now. You were no longer the girl who once fought back against your captor. That girl was gone. She was broken.  

It wasn’t all bad though. You found life more enjoyable when you submitted. Less punishments, and more interaction. You still haven’t been able to talk to anyone but Taeyong in over two months, but you were able to disassociate the angry Taeyong from the Taeyong who kept you company throughout the day.

It had officially been one week since you last broke a rule, the longest period you’ve managed thus far, and things became...different. You realized that the psychological toll this entire situation was probably the reason for your thinking but having gone an entire week without angering Taeyong had allowed you to see a side of him that almost resembled a normal boyfriend.  

When he had first kidnapped you, he claimed that he did it out of love. He told you that he was in love with you and that you were meant to be his and only his forever. Yet every action he took since then had felt like it was out of hatred for you, at least until you started obeying him.

This week he had been especially kind. He brought home dresses, saying that he bought it knowing you would like it. He would make your favorite meals and talk for hours about things he knew interested you. You would stare at him during dinner because he demanded eye-contact whenever you were talking or listening to him talk and you noticed how attractive he was. Before you had only seen him as a monster, so you never noticed how handsome his features were. His eyes were so large, like he was an anime character, and his jaw was so perfect you could use it to measure angles. You couldn’t help but wonder, how could a guy so attractive want you? He could have any girl he wanted, as long as they didn’t find out about his psycho personality. So why did he choose someone so average?  

Despite Taeyong having no problem with hurting you in the past, he had never forced you to do anything sexual up to this point. He hadn’t even demanded a kiss, but you were worried that might not be the case for long.  

Taeyong recognized that the more time he spent with you, the less angry he got when you misbehaved. He knew he couldn’t let you figure this out though, so he tried to be as consistent as possible in his punishments, despite going easy on you every once in a while.  

You didn’t know this, but Taeyong actually wanted you to want him. He felt like he had to break you to make you comfortable with the lifestyle he forced you into, but he didn’t want to force you to love him back. Even with you acting the way that you were, something felt wrong. He didn’t know if the conversations where you both laughed together were real or just you acting like how you thought he wanted you to act. He was okay with waiting for you to want him, especially now that you were slowly getting used to everything, but there was one problem.

Taeyong knew that you weren’t ready, but he was struggling with the wait. Every time he saw you when you didn’t know that he was there, you looked more beautiful than the day he first saw you. He didn’t know how difficult living with you would be when he knew he couldn’t touch you in the way he wanted to so desperately.  

The way the clothes he bought you hugged your curves. The way you would bite your lips whenever you were processing something he said. Just the way you looked at him when you were afraid you might have broken a rule, were enough to make his pants feel too tight. There were several instances where you would unknowingly do something that turned him on so much, that he had to excuse himself for a few hours. He thought he would go crazy. He even considered just taking you a few times, but he knew that having you crave for his touch would be much more satisfying.  

You weren’t a virgin, so you knew how to have sex and you had been masturbating since your early teens. Taeyong found out that you weren’t a virgin back when he first started stalking you, but he didn’t care who touched you before him because you were his now. You hadn’t even thought about touching yourself since you started living with Taeyong out of fear that he might have security cameras in every room. This took a serious toll on your hormones because you felt like you were going to explode if you kept putting off your release.  

You knew it was bad when one night you had a dream about having sex with your captor. You woke up and the first thing you noticed were how soaked your underwear was.  

“Was that a wet dream?” you asked yourself out loud.  

You had gone do long without orgasming that it made sense that your boy would... well experience one, but you couldn’t help but feel dirty about experiencing one while thinking about... him.  

Remembering the contents of the dream you felt even more confusion. You know that he was a monster, but for some reason you can’t help but imagine what he would look like with him mouth around your... yeah. You also take the sheets off of your bed and take them to the laundry room. You’re still wearing you’re the same pastel pink night gown you slept in, but you changed into new underwear. You turn on the washer and then look at the clock hanging on the wall.

“Fuck. I’m late!” you curse under your breath.

Breakfast was at 8 am every day and it was 8:01. You knew that you were screwed no matter what, but still you ran to the dining room. Taeyong was already sitting down for breakfast when you entered the room.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you stated as soon as you sat down.  

Taeyong just looked at you and you became confused until you realized that you were still wearing your nightgown, which was barely long enough to cover your butt and definitely showed more cleavage than any of your day clothes. Taeyong kept staring and you threw your hands up to cover your chest.  

“I’m sorry that I’m late and that I’m not dressed,” you apologized.

Taeyong coughed. He really couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to rip the nightgown off of you.  

“You’re not late, it’s 7:56,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“But the clock in the laundry room said I was late,” you explained.

Taeyong looked at you as you took a sip of your water.

“Why were you in the laundry room this early?” he inquired.

Youre face turned red as you remembered your dream. An image of Taeyong watching you as he slams his member into you fills your mind and you choke on your water.

Taeyong looks at you, confused.  

“I was just trying to do laundry earlier so that it would dry before tonight,” you hurriedly answer.

Taeyong seems satisfied by your answer.

“Go change into that blue dress that I bought you. Don’t take more than five minutes,” He commanded.

You stood up from the table and made your way to your room. You didn’t have time to process the images that kept flooding your mind, so you changed into your dress and went back to eat breakfast.

The day was a very confusing day for both of you. Taeyong had never seen so much of your body before. Even when he was stalking you, he never had a good view of your bedroom, so he rarely saw you dressed up in anything that revealing. Even when he had to force you out of your room, you were always dressed in your day clothes. You couldn’t stop thinking about your dream and being near the star of it didn’t help.  

You both subtly avoided each other as much as possible until it was time for dinner. Taeyong always had a glass of wine with dinner. You tried your best to avoid drinking around him so that you wouldn’t risk breaking a rule due to being intoxicated, but tonight, you knew that you needed some help getting through and entire dinner with the man you did unspeakable things with in your dream.  

“Umm... Taeyong?”  

Taeyong looked at you.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Is it okay if I have a glass of wine as well tonight?”

Taeyong didn’t respond. He merely got up and walked into the kitchen. He soon returned with a clean glass and poured you a modest serving of the crimson liquid.  

You thanked him and then downed the glass in one go, earning a confused look from the man in front of you.  

“Is something wrong, kitten?”

The nickname which had once felt demeaning caused fire to rise up into your cheeks.  

“no, sir. Nothing is wrong.”

Taeyong looked you in the eyes with that intense gaze as if he were saying “If I catch you lying, you’re dead.”

You gulped.  

Taeyong kept looking at you, but eventually continued eating.  

God, what is wrong with me? You wondered to yourself. You were terrified of Taeyong and yet excited by him. Is this what they called Stockholme syndrome? No, you weren’t in love with him, just attracted to him.  

“If you’re done eating, you can go back to your room,”

Your thoughts were interrupted as your captor dismissed you. He remained seating which was peculiar because he normally required you to wait until he left the table. You hesitate for a moment but decide to follow his more recent orders than worrying about his rules. You make your way to your room and let out a huge sigh. That was so awkward.  

You decide to go to bed early tonight but are unable to fall asleep due to the wild thoughts running through your head. After an hour of just staring at the ceiling, you decide to go get yourself some milk, hoping it will aid you in falling asleep faster. You slowly make your way down the hall. Your room was at the end of the hall, a few rooms away from Taeyong’s. You wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t wake him, so you had to keep quiet while passing his room, but you noticed something peculiar. His door was open. Was he not in bed? You stared at the door. It wasn’t wide open, just cracked a bit, as if it was meant to be closed, but you weren’t sure. You didn’t want to go downstairs if Taeyong was still down there, so you decided to move closer to investigate.  

When you moved closed you noticed a strange noise coming from the other side. It sounded like someone in pain. Curiosity got the best of you and you slowly opened the door, not knowing what was on the other side.  

Inside you saw Taeyong, eyes closed with one arm keeping him steady as he leaned against the against the wall. His other hand slowly pumping his member. Your eyes widened at the sight, but you remained silent. You couldn’t help but stare. Taeyong’s hard was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it. His eyebrows were furrowed as if he was concentrating on his thoughts. He was fully dressed but he had taken his cock out of his pants. You were only a few yards away, but he hadn’t noticed you peeking through the open door.  

“Ah. God. Y/N. Fuck,” He moaned.

Your breathing hitched slightly. He was thinking about you? It should have seemed obvious since he was literally obsessed with you, but for some reason, you couldn’t believe that such a godly man was fantasizing about you. You noticed a burning feeling coming from your core. If your hormones were driving you crazy this morning, then they were driving you absolutely fucking insane now. You closed your eyes as your hand made its way to your clothed wetness. You were wearing the same nightgown from this morning. You weren’t drunk, but it felt like it. You knew that it was wrong, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel full.  

“Y/N?”

Your eyes shot open at your gaze met Taeyong’s. He hadn’t move from his original spot, but his head was turned towards you. You gasped and turned to run away until...

“Stop,” ordered Taeyong. You stopped, having gotten used to following his every order this last week.  

Taeyong came out of his room and you couldn’t help but notice he had zipped up his pants. He positioned himself right in front of you and leaned his face closer to yours. His face remained cold as he put his arm on the wall above you. The image of him having been in that same position moments earlier crosses you mind. You remained silent, waiting for him to do something.  

“What were you doing Y/N? And remember, don’t lie,” he said in his rough voice.

“I...I was going to get a glass of milk, but I heard noise coming from your room so I opened the door to see where it was coming from,” you answered.

“I see,” Taeyong leaned in closer so that his lips were merely inches away from brushing against your ears.  

“Are you sure that it was curiosity that made you open the door?”  

You could feel his smirk forming despite him not having touched you. The heat that was vacating your core had spread to your cheeks as you blushed. Had you known the cause of the sound? What he right? Did you know what he was doing, yet chose to open it anyway?

“I... I,” you stuttered.

Taeyong didn’t even let you finish before he asked his next question.

“And what was my little kitten doing while she watched me?” he asked, his breath tickling your ear

Despite your embarrassment, you knew that he saw you and that lying would just lead to you being in more trouble than you already were.  

“I was touching myself,” you squeaked.  

Taeyong chuckled into your ear.

“And why would my little kitten me touching herself like that?”

“Because I... I,” you found yourself almost admitting your dirty fantasies to Taeyong. It was almost as if you really were drunk, despite only having half a drink an hour prior.

Taeyong was not pleased with your sudden hesitance to answer him. He grabbed your throat with his free hand but didn’t apply any pressure.

“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you didn’t do what I say?” he warned.

You looked up at his big doe eyes and swallowed.

“I was touching myself because I wanted you to fuck me,” you replied in a quiet voice. Your embarrassment at the words that fell from your mouth was apparent.  You closed your eyes tight, afraid of seeing the satisfied face in front of you.

Before you are able to open your eyes, Taeyong grabs your hands pinning them to the wall above your head. You stare at his face, not being able to decipher his emotions. You thought he would be smirking at your confession, but he looked angry, no you had seen him angry before and this wasn’t it. You could hear his breath was heavier than usual and his gaze was intense. He wasn’t mad, he was hungry.  

“You know, only bad kittens go poking their heads where they don’t belong. Do you know what happens to bad kittens? They get punished, especially little perverted kittens like you,” He growled.

Suddenly afraid hearing the word punishment, you braced yourself for whatever pain he was about to inflict, but you kept eye contact. You knew that this was probably the most punishable thing you had done since you arrived.

Taeyong inched his body closer to yours.

“If you want to get out of this punishment alive, you better do whatever I say,” his hot breath made your whole body shudder.

“Y-yes, sir AH!”

Taeyong wasted no time in attacking your neck with his mouth. It had been so long since you had anyone touch you intimately like this so every spot, he touched ended up becoming a new sweet spot. You were surprised by the sudden action, but that didn’t stop you from becoming a moaning mess. You wanted to touch him back, but your arms were pinned to the wall and you didn’t want to risk disobeying him.  

He removed his lips from your neck and the sudden absence made you frustrated beyond belief.  

Taeyong took your arms from the wall and wrapped them around his neck.

“Jump,” he commanded.

You jumped and he swiftly grabbed your legs guiding them to wrap around his waist. He carried you into his room where he sat you onto his desk, your legs still wrapped around him. He took his time taking off his own shirt, lifting it over his head and throwing it to the floor. He was thin, but more muscular than you had imagined. You could see the veins in his arms as he grabbed your waist and continued his attack on your neck.  

He had you now and there was no way he was going to stop. He knew he was going to enjoy this punishment very much.  

He grabbed you ass and pulled it to the edge of the desk, earning a loud yelp from you. HE positioned your legs so that his body was keeping them open for him. He wanted to see exactly how he made you feel so he pressed his thumb over your underwear where your slit was.  

“Who made you this wet kitten?”  

“You did, sir.”

Taeyong laughed at your response. You were being so good for him.

He raised his thumb slightly and started applied a light pressure, rubbing small circles around your clit. The friction from your underwear felt amazing, but you needed more. Small mewls escaped your mouth and you could tell that he was teasing you on purpose.  

“Taeyong,” you moaned softly.

“No talking unless I ask you a question,” Taeyong growled as he removed his hand from your heat.  

“Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” you replied.

“Good.”

Taeyong backed away a few feet and motioned for you to get off his desk, which you did.

“Kneel,” he commanded.

You kneeled in front of him.

He unzipped his pants and freed his still hard cock from his boxers.  

“Suck it,”

You looked up at him before grabbing his member with your hands. You were about to the tip into your mouth before Taeyong stopped you.

“Did I tell you you could use your hands?”

“No, sir,” you spoke softly as you returned your hand to your lap.  

You put your mouth over the head of his cock and he quietly hums in approval. You start out slowly, focusing on the tip, giving it kitten licks before you start taking him deeper into your throat. He wasn’t the biggest, but he was by far the thickest. You were worried about how long you would be able to keep this up before you got lockjaw.  

He grabbed your hair and started thrusting himself into the back off your throat. You reflexively gagged and attempted to pull away.

“Don’t pull away unless you want to see me get angry,” he warned.

You couldn’t breathe even through your nose, but you pushed through the discomfort until he withdrew himself from your mouth. You could see long strings of your saliva still connecting your lips to his throbbing dick.  

“Get up,” Taeyong groaned through heavy breaths.  

You stood up in front of him waiting for your next order, but he just grabbed you and turned you so that you were facing the desk. He pushed your body down, slamming you onto the desk. He held your head down with one of his hands and used the other to pull your underwear down. He had wanted to taste you, to force you to keep your legs open when he made you cum on his tongue, but he couldn't handle waiting any longer. He would have to punish you more harshly next time, he thought to himself. The thought of denying your orgasm for hours on end only made his cock feel more needy than it already was.  

Hanging above his desk was a large mirror that captured both of your upper bodies perfectly. Taeyong noticed this and smirked at the sight of him finally being able to take you. He loved seeing your body in such a vulnerable position. He loved the way he could see your essence running down your thighs. He hadn’t even touched you for more than a few seconds and yet you were soaking wet, all for him and him only.  

“What did you say you wanted earlier, kitten?”  

“I want you to fuck me, sir.”

“And why on earth would I do that?” He teased in his deep voice.

“Please,” you whined.  

He slapped your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“Please what? Use your words kitten.”

“Please fuck me, sir.”

“Hmmm,” Taeyong hummed.

“I don’t know if bad little kittens like you deserve to be fucked.”

You could feel another wave of your juices running down your thighs. You were dripping.

“Maybe I should just handcuff you to the bed and tease you all day. What do you think about that kitten? Doesn’t that seem like a much more suitable punishment?”

Taeyong knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer, but he loved seeing the worry in your eyes, thinking he might actually go through with that instead. He loved knowing you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.  

“Please fuck me, sir. I’ll be a good kitten. I’ll be your good kitten. Please,” you whined, trying to convince him to give you what you so desperately wanted.  

Taeyong slapped your ass again and you yelped in pain.

“Good kittens don’t beg. Got it?” he growled, but he secretly loved hearing you beg for his cock.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a perverted little cockslut who just wants to be fucked by her owner’s cock, don’t you? Say it.”

“I’m a perverted little cockslut who just wants to be FUCK!”

Taeyong had shoved the entirety of his length into you mid sentece and continued thrusting in and out of your tight heat.

“Don’t you dare stop,” He roared as he pounded into you.  

You stuttered trying to complete his command.

“fucked by my owner’s cock!” you screamed out.

“Again!” he spat.

“I’m a perverted ah little ah cockslut who just ah wants to be ah fucked by her ah owner!”

You struggled to speak the words as fucked you mercilessly. You knew that wouldn’t be long before you’d come undone.  

Taeyong grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to face the mirror.

“Do you like watching me fuck you Y/N? Do you like seeing how fucked out I make you look?”

It was true, your face was bright red and you had tears welling up in your eyes. If you were wearing mascara, it would surely be running down your cheeks.  Your tits were bouncing so much that they had somehow escaped the top of your nightgown.

“Yes! I like it!” You screamed as you felt your orgasm approaching.

Taeyong could feel that you were about to come because your walls started to tighten around him, and your legs were shaking.  

You couldn’t stop moaning and Taeyong had never heard a sweeter sound.  

The feeling spread from your core throughout your entire body. You couldn’t help but scream out Taeyong’s name, but he didn’t mind the sudden outburst. Your body kept shaking and it felt like you were in another dimension. Taeyong took no mercy on you as he continued his unrelenting thrusts. You didn’t know how much more you could handle. Your orgasms normally only ever lasted a few seconds before you started to feel overstimulated and Taeyong was not letting up in the slightest. Screams poured out your mouth and you couldn’t even attempt to beg him to stop. All your energy was being drained from your body. You felt your eyes rolling into the back of your head as everything faded to black.  

The final vibrations of your walls caused Taeyong to cum as he gave your pussy one last thrust. He breathed heavily as he looked at your limp body, passed out on his desk. He couldn’t help but smile. HE had managed to punish you while still allowing you your release.  

Taeyong lifted your body off of the desk and carried you over to the bed. He when to the bathroom and grabbed a wet. He used the rag to wipe away the cum that spilled down your legs and reminded himself to buy plan b tomorrow when he got the chance.  

He got in the bed with you and lifted up the duvet to cover your bodies. Your sleeping self felt the warm presence lying next to you and instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around it. Taeyong smiled and adjusted himself so your head was resting on his chest. You were finally his.  

[earthstellar]

MTMTE HALLOWEEN 2020 FIC: Costume Party

SUMMARY: 

Rodimus sets up an Earth style Halloween costume party at Swerve’s to help boost the crew’s morale. Things get a little... weird, when they start to behave like the creatures their costumes represent. 

PAIRINGS: 

Rodimus/Megatron and Drift/Ratchet 

WARNINGS: 

It’s spooky, there is some talk regarding Drift’s traumas, and there is bloodshed/violence in a very creepy way. Please be careful and do not read if you are potentially upset by suggestive violence, blood, etc. 

IMPORTANT NOTE: 

I was unable to finish or edit this on time for Halloween; I’ll post the final version to AO3 when it’s ready, but for now, here’s what I have! Enjoy the preview! 

Rodimus was happy to let Swerve host a Human Halloween event in the bar. 

Swerve had wanted to do it for a while, but evidently had to wait for the right Earth season despite the Lost Light being absolutely nowhere near Earth. Rodimus agreed that they could use something fun and distracting to lift the spirits of the crew after a somewhat bad supply pickup had gone south and resulted in a thankfully brief dry spell as they'd had to go without their usual ship wide energon supply, resulting in the bar being shuttered for the duration until they were able to stop at Hedra Nine for a full restocking. 

Ultra Magnus had been the only one pleased at the brief closure of Swerve's bar, as it certainly cut down on his workload, but it was unfortunately Ultra Magnus that had to be convinced of the idea. Hence the emergency command meeting currently underway.

"So explain to me again the purpose of this holiday." Delivered in a flat tone, Ultra Magnus never failed to intimidate. 

As usual, Ultra Magnus loomed over the relatively small table positioned in the centre of the room, where Rodimus, Drift, and Megatron sat with some research in hand on various data pads, as well as some footage from Rewind and Swerve's collection of human media. 

Rodimus, undaunted, continued his pitch. 

"It originally started as a folk religious practice around appeasing the spirits of the dead and keeping ghosts, the spirits of deceased humans, from haunting homes and towns. Essentially. But in modern Earth context, it's all about having fun, dressing up as scary or silly characters and getting to relax a bit during a time of year that Earth people relate with darkness, bad weather, that kind of thing. It makes people happy during what were traditionally difficult times. I think we could use something interesting and fun to get the crew back into better spirits after that mess we had to deal with in the Astreus System. See? Fun can have a logical purpose: To improve crew morale. It’s… fun, Mags. People tend to enjoy it. I think it'll be fine." 

Rodimus leaned back in his chair and grinned, sure that he had made a strong case. Megatron was absorbed in a data pad featuring a collection of human myths and tales about the holiday, centred around the origins of the modern practice as it was the most relevant information, although he was interested in the older history of the celebration and where such practices may have come from. 

Megatron was surprised by the depth and complexity of the human holiday. He was still getting over some of his lingering prejudice towards organics; Reading up on their cultures and history was one way to root out what was left of his more harmful mindset. The best cure for ignorance was often simple research, after all… Orion Pax would be proud. He nearly laughed at the thought. 

But he found himself looking forward to Swerve’s little seasonal party, even if there were no seasons per se to celebrate out in open space. Rodimus had made a good point; The crew could certainly use the distraction, and Rung had advised him to try new things that had no associations with any past memories or experiences as part of something they were trying in therapy. He wasn’t exactly excited for it, but it could tolerate it. Especially with Rodimus also in attendance; Undoubtedly most of the attention would be drawn away from him, at least. 

Ultra Magnus was completely still, a telltale sign that he was considering something, running through his extensive memory storage of ship protocols and broader applicable legislation in the hopes of finding something that could possibly mitigate any poor outcomes— Rodimus had won, it would certainly help crew morale and such intentions were covered by rules regarding health and safety of passengers and crew members. Fair play.

--

The bulletin from Swerve, once approved, had been sent out to everyone on board. The event was fairly simple, a marathon of various Halloween themed human movies, followed by a costume party at the bar. Teams of three were allowed to submit group costumes for judgement by a panel led by Ultra Magnus, partially because it was the only way to get him to participate and partially because it was the only way to have a judged competition without anyone complaining of unfairness. 

The mood had immediately improved, with the Lost Light buzzing about costume design ideas and speculating on who was joining whose team and what the chances of winning might be. 

Rodimus beamed, happy for all the chatter and gossip. His crew was happy, so he was happy. And Megatron was invested as well, glad to go along with it, enjoying the literature about it. He couldn't be more excited for the event; He trusted Swerve to make it as extravagant as possible, despite the limitations of their supplies on board and what little in the way of textile fabrics they could find and pick up from smaller stop-overs at various stations operated by organics along the way prior to the day.

Rodimus had been concerned about the cost, but Drift was enamoured with the spiritual background of the holiday, and seemed all too willing to provide the spare shanix for anything they could find for the crew. 

So far, it had been going incredibly well. Rodimus was excited himself, as he couldn't wait to see everyone's final costumes, but the idea of Megatron getting a break to genuinely enjoy something with him brought warmth to his spark, making it spin even faster in its casing. 

--

 "Okay, everybody! We had a lot of interest in the costume aspect of this whole thing, but it seems only three teams actually came together to participate in the judged competition. However, most of you have turned up in costume anyway, so it all works out! The judging will go faster and you can all guzzle down some of the special drinks on the menu for tonight only. Welcome to Swerve's, and Happy Human Halloween!" 

Leave it to Swerve to kick off the night in style; The doors were thrown open and bots rushed in, claiming booths and seats at the bar, some mild squabbling already starting but quickly dialled back under the watchful eye of Ultra Magnus, who had refused to wear a costume and was fully on duty as usual from his judge's perch near a makeshift stage Perceptor and Brainstorm had thrown together from spare lab materials. 

Nobody had seen anyone's costumes prior to the night, so there was a significant amount of ooing and ahhing over the most successful looks, providing a great distraction for the costume contest participants to slip mostly unnoticed behind the stage setup, preparing for the reveal to the judging panel: Ultra Magnus, Chromedome, and Cyclonus. 

As the bar continued to fill up and the noise levels increased, Swerve put on a specially composed mix tape for the ambient music that his extensive research had stated was sure to be a success: 

Something called the "Munsters Theme" kicked off the night, and things still appeared to be moving ahead as planned, all in attendance having a good night, and the Lost Light hummed with friendly chatter. 

--

The three costume competition teams ended up being 

There was the Command Coven, consisting of Rodimus, Megatron, and Drift with witch themed costumes. Drift was more than happy to provide crystal necklaces and little wands for each of them, each designed to replicate gemstones found on Earth, with Megatron's being amethyst, Rodimus adorned in carnelian, and Drift himself wearing amazonite. 

He had chosen the colours and designs in accordance with his Spectralist beliefs, as well as something Swerve had shown him called "mood boards" from Earth social data nets, which had kept him up well past his usual recharging hours. It seemed to not have impacted him at all for how thrilled he was at the excuse to dive into human spiritual practices, although he faltered somewhat at the sight of the next team's arrival...

The Medbay had submitted a team, largely thanks to Drift constantly bothering Ratchet about it, with Ratchet himself as well as First Aid and Velocity appearing in vampire themed costumes. They had no team name because Ratchet couldn't be bothered, and was more concerned about the medbay being largely unattended during the event... Although begrudgingly, he did admit to Drift that having the central medical staff immediately on hand in the bar probably wasn't all that bad of an idea.

And the final team, the Minibot Monsters, consisted of Tailgate as a swamp monster, Rewind as a mummy, and Swerve himself, wearing the world's least convincing werewolf costume. 

Swerve was the only person with two costumes, so as not to reveal his "true" costume too early in the night; What he was wearing while manning the bar and letting people in was something inspired by Gomez from the Addams Family, although nobody else on board got the reference save for Rewind, who was suddenly upset they hadn't picked that as their group theme. Tailgate was just thrilled to have shiny scales temporarily detailed over his paint job, lending a shimmering effect to his every move. 

-

Back stage, the teams began to intermingle a bit, although mindful of not violating any of Ultra Magnus' rules about potentially spoiling the integrity of the judging process by helping other teams with costumes and so on for about fifty pages. 

Drift took in Ratchet's costume, approaching a bit too tenderly for it to be the effect of any engex he may have consumed before hand. It set off Ratchet's diagnostics coding, returning a reading of increased anxiety indicated by signs of  ever so slightly rising energon consumption levels as Drift's fuel pump started to rev at a slightly elevated rate, as well as a touch of fatigue from Drift's lack of recharge time beforehand. 

"What's wrong? Are you afraid of losing?" Ratchet teased him, but only gently, probing to see where Drift was mentally at the moment. Did dressing up have bad connotations on Rodion? Was Drift relating this to some disguise or situation from his past that was potentially upsetting? Ratchet was ready to leave at any time, stress over an unmanned medbay lingering in the back of his processor; He'd be happy to grab Drift and go if need be.

"I uh, you just did a really good job with your costumes is all. I mean I expected the cloaks and all that stuff, it looks good on you by the way! But the denta..." 

Ah. 

Ratchet shuffled a bit. "Yes, apparently Velocity found in her preparatory reading that human vampire lore emphasises pointed denta. They--" 

Drift interrupted, looking at the ground, looking anywhere but Ratchet's face. "They siphon their energon, or whatever human stuff, blood, from living people. They're siphonists. Like I used to be, way back, when I needed to get fuel, and... And they're evil." 

Immediately, Ratchet realised that of course, Drift would associate the vampire fangs with so much suffering from his own past, with cruel comments and judgements forced on him by bots who had no idea what it was like to starve or have to turn to any viable alternative to survive, including taking energon directly from the fuel lines of others. 

He raised up his hands towards Drift, testing to see if he'd be welcome for a hug. Drift looked up a bit and smiled, stepping into Ratchet's arms and accepting a brief embrace before Ratchet pulled back to look him in the eyes, hands still lingering on his upper arms. 

"Listen, Drift. If this is too much for you, we can go. I can go, you don't have to miss anything. I can take this all off and it's an easy fix; It's a minor procedure to numb and file them back down, and of course we were going to do it afterwards anyway. Velocity thought it would be more realistic if we just went ahead and altered our denta for the sake of it, but I should have thought more about how that might affect you. I--"

Drift leaned up to quickly kiss Ratchet, immediately jerking his head back with eyes wide, seemingly having not fully registered the fangs that met his until they physically pressed against one another, before giving a shakey smile. 

"No, it's okay. I just wasn't ready for it. The thought of you having to resort to... Anything like that, it makes my spark hurt. It reminds me of a lot of things I don't like about how I had to get through some hard times, you know? But I don't want you to go. I want you here. Plus... Now we match, right?" 

Leave it to Drift to try to power through something so significantly distressing to him. Ratchet appreciated the effort, but saw right through it. 

"I mean it, if this bothers you, I'm ready to get back to the medbay, undo it, and we can hit the bar again together later once things have eased up a bit, no problem. The humans might think vampires are evil, and a lot of bots might think siphonists are... Frightening, but I need you to know that they're not the same thing. People are often wrong about what they don't understand, and you only did what you had to in order to survive. And I'm glad you did it. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be here. With me, at a party that will be fun if you still want to go through with all this." 

Drift optics gradually returned to their usual brightness, his signs of anxiety slowly disappearing on Ratchet's constant scans, putting him at ease as well. 

"Thank you, Ratchet. I'll be okay once the shock wears off. I think it's a good costume choice, and you really do look good in the cloak. The black makes your white paint look brighter! And it's fun to think of all the spooky human stories... And some of our own too, I guess. Imagine, a siphonst medic! You would't have any patients, that's for sure." Drift smiled, making a point to flash his own fangs. Clearly he'd recovered from the initial shock, although Ratchet decided he might try to talk it out with him at some point when they weren’t caught up in all this. He didn't want Drift to suffer any blows to his self-esteem, or fall back into a trauma related depression, even a relatively minor one. He was glad Rung had a positive policy for booking short notice sessions, which reassured him a bit. Any problems, they could all work it out together.

"Well, I think anyone who needs a doctor badly enough is willing to go to whatever doctor happens to be around, in my experience. Siphonist or not. And are you calling my paint job dull? I'll have you know I polished my armour for this. Or First Aid did, at least. He was insistent that we represent the medical team as best as possible." 

"Seems like he's learning some things from you about professionalism, Mister No Crystals in the Medbay." 

"Hey, Ultra Magnus agreed with me. It violates... Some rule." 

"Sure it does." 

--

It was finally time for the costume contest, and 

--

"What happened? What happened? Hey! Someone else get up already!" Rodimus wasn't one to panic, but he was maybe actually slightly panicking. A little bit. 

After the Great Sword had reacted to Drift's incantation, everyone had experienced simultaneous processor reset from the energy surge, and it was taking some time for people to come around from the harsh and unexpected reboot. 

It seemed everyone in the bar had been affected by the wave, not dissimilar to an electromagnetic pulse, with bots slumped over their tables, a few leaning precariously over the bar, and others laying on top of each other where there had been only standing room left. 

Rodimus had been the first to wake, having fallen into a draped position half over Megatron and half pressed into the makeshift stage curtain, briefly tangled in his distress over waking up and feeling... Odd. 

He felt like his spark was super charged, like he had ingested far too much high grade energon and was borderline frying his own circuits. It was like his fuses had been blown, but a quick self-diagnostic came back completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary, everything working fine. 

His sensory input felt magnified somehow, like he was feeling the EM fields of everyone in the bar at a hundred fold. 

It wasn't bad. Just very, very odd. Which was never a good indicator of anything, the way things tended to go on the Lost Light.

He briefly considered paging the medbay, when he caught the passed out shaped of Ratchet and Drift together in the centre of the stage; Ratchet must have picked up on whatever was happening and had made a dive for Drift, resulting in both of them clattering to the ground on top of each other. 

Everyone he would turn to for help had also been affected; There was no 

"Megatron, wake up!" 

—-

"Ratchet, oh Primus, please, are you okay?" Drift had finally woken up, exhausted by his lack of recharge on top of the huge surge of energy that had burst forth from the Great Sword, which was connected somehow to his spark energy... He was drained, but determined to get a response out of Ratchet before he could even consider his own wellbeing.  

"Ratchet! Get up! Something's happened with the sword, and it's my fault, and I don't know what happened!" Genuine fear started to seep into his vocaliser, which was likely what finally jarred Ratchet back into awareness.

"...Drift? Are you alright?" Ratchet's voice was low and rough, still drowsy from the forced reboot. Drift knelt further down to help get a grip under Ratchet's shoulders to keep him from slumping over again, being careful of anywhere that may have been injured as he collapsed. 

"My scans are showing me you’re fine, but I think I need to run a diagnostic on myself... I feel like I haven't refuelled in Primus knows how long. My fuel tank was reasonably topped up before this, is anyone else experiencing similar symptoms...?" Ratchet was slowly regaining his bearings, relying less on Drift for balance once being sat upright, although they both remained seated with their legs tucked under them in the middle of the stage. Drift felt he could relax ever so slightly now that Ratchet was responsive enough to be engaging his medical protocols. 

"We all feel a bit strange. Me and Roddy feel overcharged almost, like having two sparks in one frame. It’s… intense, but manageable. Megatron is still out, and Roddy seems to be more charged up than I am. It might be a Matrix thing with him, we don't know. My fuel levels are good, feeling the opposite of drained right now. Our internal diagnostics are coming back normal, but that's clearly wrong. Any ideas?" 

Ratchet was slow to reply. He was never slow to reply, not when it came to medical matters.

"Ratchet?" Drift grabbed Ratchet's shoulders, preparing to brace him and lay him out gently in case he lost consciousness again. 

"Drift, I need you to listen to me carefully. I don't know what happened. I don't know what's happening now. I can't identify any apparent problems in my own self-diagnostics, aside from the erroneous fuel tank level discrepancy. I'm not leaking fuel from anywhere, I'm not burning it off any faster than usual. I'd need access to the medbay for more in-depth scans, but I don't think it's a good idea to be wandering the halls right now. We should keep this contained to the incident area as much as we can..." As he continued to speak, Ratchet looked more and more stressed, more concerned. And that concerned Drift. 

"What are you getting at, why are the halls unsafe? Do you think this is some kind of attack? It originated from my Great Sword, it was... I think it was the incantation. It had to be. Ultra Magnus made sure the threat level was at a minimum--" 

"No. I think that if we went out there, we'd be making the halls dangerous ourselves. Don't you feel that?" 

Drift felt his spark grind to a halt.

"What are you talking about? I feel fine, I feel suspiciously better than fine. Are you okay? Are you dizzy?"

"...No. I'm energy depleted. I need fuel." Ratchet leaned forward until they were pressed flush against each other, their knees touching in their kneeled position on the stage, chests touching right over their spark chambers. Drift kept his hands rested on Ratchet's shoulders, grip light, unsure of what to do. 

When suddenly, and with all the strength of a field medic frame, Ratchet leaned in and closed the rest of the distance, pushing Drift backwards to the floor so his knees lifted from their bent position and his legs splayed out under Ratchet, who was now so close to laying across the top of him that it nearly took Drift's breath away.

Ratchet whispered directly against Drift's neck cables, close enough to his audials that it made Drift's spinal strut shiver and lock up. "I need warm fuel. I need your fuel.”

Drift immediately froze. This didn't sound like Ratchet. This couldn't be Ratchet. Because Ratchet would never make him feel this vulnerable, he would never do this. Ratchet isn't a siphonist...

...Or he wasn't before whatever just happened, happened. 

"Don't do this!" Drift had intended to scream it, but it came out as a whimper that only Ratchet could hear as his breath was taken away by the pointed denta scrapping gently along the central fuel lines in the side of his neck, just above his collar plating and below the corner of his tilted helm, as Ratchet’s glossa searched for the most medically sound place to puncture the lines and begin to siphon fuel. 

Imagining Ratchet's mouth full of his energon, still hot from being cycled through his systems, Ratchet’s face swirling the fuel around his fangs and smiling at him in sick contentment the way Drift knew he himself had done to others in his past filled him with a level of dread and distress that he didn't know he was still capable of feeling. 

He tried to roll to knock Ratchet off balance, but he was now pinned beneath the medic, whose wider frame was made for detaining unruly patients and built to cope with such resistance. The moment had only caused Ratchet to get a better glimpse at his central fuel lines, Drift's neck having flexed in the process, encouraging a small thrilled hum from Ratchet that terrified Drift straight to the spark. 

He couldn't let Ratchet do this. He wouldn't let him become a siphonist. Ratchet is a good mech, a kind-hearted mech, and Drift refused to imagine what would happen if Ratchet drained him of fuel and snapped out of whatever this was and hated himself the way Drift had hated himself...

...But at the same time, they were in a room full of vulnerable and disoriented bots. Many of whom had still not fully rebooted and had no chance of putting up any defence at all. If Ratchet was under some spell, or whatever was happening, then there was no guarantee that he would be able to be restrained, or that he could restrain himself, from simply going after someone else. 

Drift realised in horror that if Ratchet didn't get his fuel fix from him, right now, he would likely just hurt someone else while in this trance-like state, focused solely on satisfying a feral hunger... Drift could at least relate, and was awake enough to consent as much as possible under the circumstances, and it didn't take all that much effort for Drift to talk himself into going limp. 

As he rested back flat against the stage floor, Ratchet briefly froze, giving Drift a flash of hope that he was coming to his senses, that his medical protocols were overriding whatever this was and that he would immediately jump off and apologise and demand another systems check before they started working out whatever was going on. 

But instead, Ratchet made some awful little low trilling noise, lowering more of the weight of his frame against Drift's chest, and whispered into his neck: "Your vents are spewing out so much heat. Your fuel will be so warm in my mouth. Listen to my voice, Drift. You know how much you mean to me. I won't hurt you, I'll never hurt you. I'm a medic. I want you to feel good, be healthy. Forever. I want you to feel the way I do." 

Drift was caught between old traumas and the trauma currently unfolding. He had no response, cleansing fluid building up behind his optics, threatening to cloud his vision and steam up his lenses from the inside from all the heat his rapidly spinning spark was generating throughout his systems. 

He vaguely became aware of some almighty commotion happening somewhere in the bar, but he didn't dare attempt to move. He couldn't have even if he tried. It was painful hearing Ratchet like this, the kind voice worn by age that he was familiar with tainted by something rough and sinister, for all the friendliness it still contained. 

"Did you read all the human myths, or just about the crystals? It seems the Earth vampires can turn another human into one by sharing blood, their energon. After I take a sip from you, would you bite into me? Or would you prefer if I clean cut one of my fuel lines for you to suck on? Would you do that for me? We match, after all.” Drift could feel Ratchet flash a wide smile into the side of his neck. 

Ratchet's voice was starting to have some kind of cognitive effect on Drift's processor, numbing him to the waves of anxiety and making the noises in the bar seem even further away, sinking him into Ratchet's grip, making it impossible to activate his own vocaliser. 

"We could be together forever, Drift. No more flitting in and out of each others lives. Security. Safety. Stability." 

With Drift completely flattened beneath him, helm lolled to the side and central fuel line finally exposing the medically ideal spot to place a bite, Ratchet was satisfied. He leaned in and sunk his pointed denta into the perfect centre of the line, immediately creating a suction and drawing a swift stream of warm energon into his mouth, a deep moan from Drift weakly rising from beneath his grasp--

--And at that moment, Rodimus with immense precision drew down a bar stool leg directly into Ratchet's helm, the metallic clang echoing through the room as Ratchet’s head was forced away from Drift’s neck, a pool of energon steaming up from the tear in the central fuel line, ripped open further by Ratchet’s pointed denta never having had the chance to loosen the bite first. 

Rodimus quickly put himself between Drift and Ratchet, kicking Ratchet in the shoulder to create more distance while avoiding harming him as much as possible before turning to face Drift. 

“Primus, Drift, we shouldn’t have left you two alone, some of the others started waking up and Megatron’s still struggling a little with the hard reboot, are you okay? Drift?” 

Drift barely registered what Rodimus was panicking about as he was only gradually coming out of whatever state Ratchet had put him in. He felt like his temperature regulator has to be malfunctioning now, or perhaps he had just lost too much heat from pushing himself too hard and venting off too much of the heated air that speedster frames tended to build up. 

Setting himself upright, he relied on Rodimus for support, immediately showing the tear in his fuel line, optics slightly foggy and looking off to the side. “I need to wrap this up… It’s not as bad as it could be, but it really is, isn’t it? What’s wrong with Ratchet, Roddy?” It was hard to hear Drift’s voice, usually so lively and firm, take a low and demure tone made rough by the damage to his neck. 

They both looked over to where Ratchet had been unceremoniously kicked on his back, Rodimus continuing to stay tensed and alert in front of Drift in case Ratchet tried to make another move.

Cautiously, Rodimus spoke up as his right hand helped Drift hold the fuel line edges together; Rodimus winced at how much it must hurt, but Drift was making no complaints as it was slowly and carefully wrapped by some previously subspaced tape. In fact, Drift seemed… Sad, more than scared. He was being too quiet, moving too little even considering his injury, and his EM field was full of exhaustion and distress. 

“What the hell happened? Ratchet, you… I didn’t hit you that hard, did I? Can you answer me? What were you doing?”  He wanted to ask why, but one thing at a time. He suspected that Ratchet didn’t know the answer to that last one, and Rodimus didn’t want to press someone who was potentially unstable and clearly dangerous at the moment. He pressed his back closer to Drift, fully ready to defend him if needed. 

Rodimus took in Ratchet’s crumpled pose, still laid out where he had been kicked back, a look of absolute shock and strain on his face as his fists curled tightly against the stage floor, steaming energon dipping from around his slightly open mouth in small pools as he ex-vented heavily. 

As Ratchet shook his helm a bit, he replied with an absolutely wrecked voice, as if it had been his vocaliser nearly ripped out instead of Drift’s. “I, Rodimus, I don’t know how long I’ll be lucid for. My fuel tank levels are registering within perfectly normal levels, but it feels like I’m being constantly drained, like I’m losing fuel from a leak that doesn’t exist—“

“So you put a leak in Drift?” Rodimus knew he shouldn’t have said anything as Ratchet’s head whipped up and stared him directly in the optics, the shattered look on his face so unfamiliar on Ratchet’s features that it startled Rodimus to see it. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My scans are coming back fine, all of them, I can’t find what’s wrong.” Real panic was seeping into Ratchet’s vocaliser, a bizarre and awful contrast to his usual calm steadiness even in the worst of situations. “You don’t understand, Rodimus, whatever energy the Great Sword released has altered my systems, perhaps everyone’s systems… Drift said you both felt overcharged, but I feel energy depleted, and it’s doing something to my processor. I feel so strange and— And Drift.” 

The entire time he spoke, without his knowledge, his glossa lightly flicked out here and there to catch some spare flecks of Drift’s energon that had settled around his mouth. It set off a sick feeling in Rodimus’ spark, as it was clear Ratchet genuinely couldn’t help it, as if his coding had gone severely wrong somewhere. It reminded him of a cyberfox licking its paws after a hunt. It was too unrefined and subtly animalistic for a bot like Ratchet. It looked wrong, it felt wrong, and he could feel a surge of concerned sadness burst forth from Drift’s EM field behind him. Evidently he’d finished wrapping his fuel line and was now focused on Ratchet. 

Ratchet noticed and finally moved, only slightly to avoid startling Rodimus into unnecessary action, as he picked up on Drift’s distressed EM signals. 

“Drift, Primus, are—“ Ratchet’s optics went wide and he jerked back oddly, not moving from his place lest Rodimus make a move, but as though he were torn so completely that he couldn’t move. “—My medical protocols demand your neck be examined. If I do it, I don’t know what I’ll do. Where’s Velocity and First Aid?” 

—-

Megatron bellowed across the bar, “They’re behaving oddly, get ready to fight them off!” 

—-

"Drift, we're medics. We know where to bite to take the most energon straight from the central fuel line the fastest. I just did it to you, and being ripped free like that can rip the cable lining and weaken the integrity of the fuel line under pressure. It ruptures and causes a major bleed. It can kill someone. It will kill someone. If at any point we start failing to restrain ourselves, you have to incapacitate us. Tie us up. Do whatever. We are officially dangerous until this is resolved. I can't say my behaviour will be predictable, or sensible."

He then turned abruptly to Rodimus and Megatron, Ultra Magnus off to his opposite side, ready to intervene if needed. 

"One of you, or both of you, I am asking you to do whatever you need to do if I go after Drift again. If I go for his central fuel lines again, he's already damaged. Another bite will weaken the line structure, its integrity will fail, and he will lose too much energon to be within safe levels. His nanites will take far too long to repair a gash that size. Please." 

Ratchet hung his head, avoiding everyone's optics. 

"I am a medic. I heal bots. I don't kill them. 

---

AND THAT’S AS FAR AS I GOT, I hope to finish this up and edit it for AO3 soon, Happy Halloween! 

[ariainstars]

Star Wars, the Last 20 Years or Can We Please Try to Stop the Blame Train?

I would like to touch a subject that’s starting to grate on my nerves a little.

Anyone here knows that I disliked The Rise of Skywalker heartily. And I’m not the only person here or elsewhere who tore it to shreds. But I am reading (again) over and over why and how JJ Abrams, Chris Terrio, Kathleen Kennedy and Co. made this mess. Instead of searching for culprits, this time I would like to point out a few things.

I. Star Wars Prequels

Jake Lloyd, Ahmed Best and Hayden Christensen had to endure awful harassment in their time: the audience largely vented their frustration on them because when the prequels hit theatres, they did not get the Star Wars they had wanted. Politics are a dry subject, and young Anakin and the Jedi Council were all too human to be liked by fans who expect coolness in a hero more than everything else; which is probably why Darth Maul is a huge favorite although we hardly learn anything about him and he says almost nothing. Ditto Obi-Wan although he is clearly not suited to train Anakin and it’s him who maims him and leaves him to burn in the lava. (Until I saw the film, I had always assumed Palpatine had tortured Anakin to push him to the Dark Side.) 

The prequels’ messages in general were not liked: the Jedi were not perfectly wise and cool wizards, the Old Republic was stagnant, Anakin was a hot-headed, frustrated young man desperate to save his wife and unborn children. The films do not want to excuse what he did; however they portray him not as a monster but as a human being who was under an almost unendurable pressure for years and years until he finally snapped.

These messages may not be “cool”, but they were realistic and most of all, humane. Portraying the Jedi as well as Anakin as powerful, flawless heroes and the old Republic as a just, prosperous and balanced place would have meant undermining a central theme of the original trilogy: the former generation could not have been all that powerful and wise, else the collapse of their world and the failure of their convictions would not have happened in the first place. It is a sore point, but still twenty years later Obi-Wan and Yoda denied that Vader was human and expected Luke to commit patricide. 

All of this goes to show that the Jedi’s moral standard was flawed and their attitude not rooted in compassion and pacifism the way they claimed. In the end, what they cared about was winning, no matter the cost. In this, they were no better than the Sith.

~~~more under the cut~~~

II. Star Wars Sequels

J.J. Abrams, Kathleen Kennedy, Bob Iger and company were the ones who introduced the Star Wars sequel trilogy and with it its themes, characters, setting etc. to us in the first place: I think we should give them credit where it’s due. Rian Johnson made a very beautiful second chapter with The Last Jedi, but he did pick up where the others had left. 

Kelly Marie Tran made experiences similar to Jake Lloyds or Hayden Christensen’s when The Last Jedi was hit theatres. She was disliked for not being “Star-Wars-y” enough, chubby and lively instead of wiry and spitfire, and also taking a lot of screen time while many fans were impatiently waiting for some grand scenes from Luke and / or Leia. 

That Episode VIII, the central and most important one, was called “The Last Jedi” cannot be overstated. Luke was literally alone with the heavy task of rebuilding a religious order that was gone and destroyed long before he even learned about it, and at the same time he had to patch together his own family and atone for his father’s sins. This is a crushing burden for anyone to carry. It was important both for Rey and for the audience to meet Luke to see that he was a good man, but still just a man.

When Luke spoke openly to Rey about the failure of the Jedi Order, it was the first time he ever spoke about it that we know of; this wisdom he obviously acquired only after his nephew’s fall to the Dark Side. Luke has understood that the ways of the Jedi were wrong; but he does not know a better alternative. Force users are still born all over the galaxy, and they have to learn to use their powers - only how? Again, Luke is not to blame. How is he to know, when the Jedi of the Old Republic had lost sight of Balance in the Force for so long that they didn’t know what it actually meant anymore? 

Same goes for Leia, the princess without a realm, who tried to rebuild the Republic after the galaxy had been terrorized by the Empire and devastated by war for many years. She assuredly did her best, but she was only human. That she failed her son is of course shocking, but after the horror she had to endure at the hands of her own father it is not surprising that she would be terrified of her son possibly going the same way. Ben, like Anakin, was crushed under a legacy and responsibility that was by far too heavy for him. The tragedy of his life and the disruption - and in the end, obliteration - of his family was another proof for the failure of the ways of the Jedi. 

All of these lessons until now were not learned from. But let’s be honest: how many of us come from dysfunctional families? If we do, was getting away from them enough to heal the wounds of the past? Did we find out what to give our children on their way in life, or did we fail them because we had not elaborated the past enough to make way for a better future? Such problems are very common, and to heal them is complicated and takes time. A “happy ending” e.g. in form of finding a new family is not enough, on the contrary, it can lead to wanting to leave the past behind, leaving wounds unhealed that will fester their way through our lives again, sooner or later. Star Wars always was an allegory of the human mind, even if deeply cloaked in symbolism. The saga also abundantly takes inspiration from the Bible, and I think it’s not coincidentally said there that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children. 

As fans, we would have wanted to see films that cemented the Jedi as guardians of the galaxy, with the Skywalker family right at the center. Which in itself is impossible because Jedi are supposed to remain unattached, making the mere idea of a Jedi having a family absurd. If the prequels told us that the Jedi were flawed, the sequels tore down the myth of the Skywalker family. And both trilogies showed that you can’t be a Skywalker and / or a Jedi / Force user and have attachments and a happy family of your own at the same time. At least, not until now. 

 III. Film production

Many fans of old complained because the sequel trilogy implied that the “happy ending” of the original trilogy’s heroes had not been so happy after all and that after having made peace for the galaxy, they had failed to keep it that way. Other viewers however liked the new trilogy and new characters right away and began to root for them. But they, too, jumped on the blame train when the trilogy had ended: expectations were not met, and now director, producers, script writers, cutters etc. are faulted all over again.

The first person coming up with the idea of Han’s and Leia’s only child turning to the Dark Side was Lucas himself. It always was a main theme of the saga that war separates people who actually belong together, like family, couples or close friends; that is not played for mere drama, but because it emphasizes the absurdity of war.

We as the audience do not know how production went - it is very possible that Lucas approved the general storyline, and there is always a whole team on board. It is not easy to purchase such a large and immensely popular franchise; it was to be expected that if things went not the way the audience expected, the Disney studios would be blamed harshly for having “ruined Star Wars”. With the prequels, at least Lucas was still at the helm; it was conceded that maybe he had lost his magic touch with storytelling, but certainly not that he was trying deliberately to ruin his own creation. And the fans who could not praise the Disney studios enough after The Last Jedi came out, now blame them over and over.

The Disney studios have long-term politics to consider and contracts to observe, and we don’t know their contents. We have every right to be disappointed, but I think it’s not fair to blame one or a particular group of persons who are trying their best to satisfy as many viewers as possible. If they simply wanted to satisfy the average dudebro who sees nothing but clichés, two-dimensional characters and Good against Evil - then why did they allow The Last Jedi to be produced in the first place? The studios obviously are aware that there are fans out there who are ready to look deeper in the saga’s themes, who wish to see the Force coming to Balance, who value family, friendship and love over “victory at any cost”, and who do not place the Jedi on some kind of pedestal.

In a sense, The Rise of Skywalker seems like a bow before The Last Jedi: the weakest chapter of the saga followed one of its strongest. Maybe the authors were aware that equaling or even topping what Rian Johnson had created would be next to impossible, so they patched up the open threads of The Force Awakens together with some fan service hoping to be out of the business as quickly as possible.

In retrospect, the infamous podcast with Charles Soule might also be tell-tale: Soule obviously is not elbows-deep in the saga and largely ignores its subtext. Since his The Rise of Kylo Ren comics are quite well-made, I assume that the general storyline did not stem from his own creativity and that he only carried out what he had been advised to do. The production of the whole sequel trilogy may have happened in a similar way. I am not excusing the poor choices of The Rise of Skywalker; merely considering that one or a few persons cannot be blamed in a studio that has thousands of creative minds on board.

I am still hoping for the next trilogy to finally bring Balance to the galaxy, and also into the fandom. Rian Johnson had negotiated the rights for the next trilogy along with The Last Jedi; I assume it is very possible that there was a clause about intellectual property saying that only he would continue Episode VIII’s topics, nobody else. This would at least be an explanation, given the embarrassing, jumbled mess that Episode IX was.

The overall title of the saga assuredly never wanted to inspire the audience to start online wars attacking the studios or the actors or other fans out of the conviction of being entitled to blame someone else’s worldview. The saga’s message is compassion. Both George Lucas and the Disney studios are telling us their story; the idea and the rights do not belong to us. Harping on “whose fault” it allegedly is won’t bring us anywhere; what we can do is make the studios understand that we’re not too stupid not to understand the subtext, the symbolism and metaphysics of the saga beyond the action story. If they listened to the Last Jedi haters, in all fairness they are bound to listen to us, too. 😊

  IV. Will Ben’s story continue?

My husband already warned me years ago that Ben most probably wouldn’t survive, or at least not get a happy ending. As Kylo Ren he had already been the head of a criminal organization for six years at the start of The Force Awakens, but all of that perhaps could still have been condoned within the scope of war. It was the very personal and intentional act of patricide, the killing of an unarmed, forgiving man, who turned him into a damned person. And after the deed, Ben was aware of it. He knew there was no way out for him, he had gone too far.

Many members of the audience did not understand that Kylo / Ben is not an out-and-out villain and that this narrative ultimately was about his redemption. Bringing him back to the Resistance after the Exegol battle alive and by Rey’s side would not have been accepted; how was Rey to explain everything when she hardly understood it herself? How would the audience have reacted to the former head of a criminal organization, a patricide, suddenly standing out as a hero? Remember how in Return of the Jedi Luke asked Vader to come away with him. Now suppose Vader had complied? It would have seemed (and been) sheer madness. Nobody would have believed neither father nor son that the terror of the galaxy had had a sudden turn of heart. Nobody knew that he was Luke’s father; Luke himself did not know Anakin’s backstory; nobody knew what had transpired between Luke and Vader so far. Yes, Ben was young and healthy, but he still had terrorized the galaxy for years and killed his own father. He knew himself that he was damned and could not go back to normality, as Vader did.

Rey was coded as the heroine: narratively, the sequel trilogy was her story. Ben couldn’t become the hero, with or without her, at the very last moment. She usurped power like her grandfather in his time, the Skywalker family was obliterated the way the Jedi were, she takes over another mantle (Skywalker) the way Palpatine did (becoming the Emperor). Balance in the Force never was truly in the cards, it was only vaguely hinted at in The Last Jedi by the Force mosaic in the Ahch-To temple. Balance is a complex and difficult subject; it would have been extremely difficult to develop it in the sequel trilogy together with introducing the new characters and giving the old ones closure.

However: if Ben is brought back in the next trilogy, his sacrifice for Rey will have been his atonement. If his role this time is not that of the villain but of the hero, it would reverse Anakin’s path and make clear that he no longer is the same man. Vader was redeemed, not rehabilitated. His grandson might still have the chance to go that way.

- Luke had promised Rey a third lesson, and it happened. He also had promised Ben to “see him around”, which has not taken place yet.

- On Tatooine, Rey watches the twin suns setting, same as Luke before he met the other half of his soul (his twin sister) again.

- The studios had said that the sequels would be “very much like the prequels”; the prequels were a tragedy where the Dark Side (Palpatine) won that was followed by a fairy tale where the Light Side won.

- The Skywalker saga is closed, so if Ben comes back it would be justified by his being a Solo, i.e. the story of his own family and not his grandfather’s.

- Given the parallels with Beauty and the Beast, the Beast died before the broken spell brought him back, making him a wholly new person - his past identity, purged and redeemed.

- George Lucas repeatedly said that the prequels and the classics belong together as one narrative, with Anakin Skywalker at its center. First news of the next trilogy came up with The Last Jedi. Since there are strong parallels between Ben and his grandfather, we may assume that this six-chapter instalment will be his; Anakin also was left for dead but came back with a wholly different role and name.

- When Anakin was reborn as Darth Vader, he “rose” slowly from the ground, clad in his black armor. Ben fell to the ground abruptly and shed his black clothes, disappearing. This could be another clue. (It was also already speculated that Leia’s body dissolved exactly in this moment because she gave her life-force to her son for him to have another chance to live. Both Han and Luke had done what they could to atone for their remorse towards Ben; this might be her turn.)

- Much as I love Luke Skywalker, I can understand that Lucas did not see him as the saga’s protagonist. The overall arch is not so much about Luke’s heroism than about Anakin’s redemption and atonement. It is unusual because we expect the story’s “hero” to be the one who kills the Bad Guy; and indeed Anakin is, because he kills Palpatine in the end, the twist being that technically he is also a villain though not the archvillain.

- Ben had promised Anakin he would finish what he started. Anakin had been meant to bring Balance to the Force, and he had started a family. Until now, Ben did neither.

- If Ben and Rey are a dyad, i.e. one soul in two bodies, then Rey is in urgent need of her soulmate for her future tasks. She has her friends of course, but none of them gets her the way he did.

So, I still see reason to hope for a continuation, and, hopefully, satisfying conclusion of The Last Jedi’s themes.

  Film production: on a side note…

In the Nineties, Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale were the directors both of Beauty and the Beast and Atlantis: two more different stories are hardly imaginable with regard to everything - drawing style, setting, characters, development, music etc. This outcome can’t have been only due to the director’s choices, there must have been a wholly different idea behind both films right from the beginning. Just saying.

[mhdiaries]

Frights, Camera, Action! – Hauntlywood Clawdia Wolf Diary

August 25th

Today I was walking through the streets of Londoom I just wanted to howl and do a little dance because I’m so excited to be here. I didn’t, of course, do the dancing part, since I’m the one with the “clumsy gene” in our family and I didn’t want to fall through an open monster hole cover. It has never bothered me that I’m not as athletic as the rest of the pack, because I think it was pretty apparent even when I was a cub that I was better at writing stories about my brothers’ and sisters’ athletic exploits than participating in them. It’s not that I didn’t try, but my mind and body may have been in concert but they were not playing the same tune. I remember the last organized soccer game I played: the coach put me in the goal partly because I was tall for my age and partly because he thought that perhaps the prospect of a ball being rocketed toward me might keep my attention. It worked for a bit, until the ball stayed at the other end of the pitch for a while, and a butterfly landed on the net. All of a sudden I became a ferocious were-spider who decided to give the butterfly a reprieve. So I climbed up in the net to shoo it away when I heard my dad yell, “Clawdia, turn around!” A ghoul was on a breakaway, and the only thing between her and me was open pitch and the ball. I tried to turn, and my spikes caught in the net, so I just closed my eyes and leaped toward the front of the goal. Somehow the ball ended up in my claws, and I kept the ghoul from scoring. It was my one and only athletic achievement, so I retired with my legacy in check and got a good story out of it, which, I’m sure, will end up in one of my screamplays some day. 

September 8th

I was sitting in the lecture hall today not really paying attention like I should have been, partly because I was working on a not-for-that-class writing assignment and partly, okay, mostly, because symbolism in ghost-modern, neo-realist goblin cinema is only slightly less painful than rolling in flea-infested wolf’s bane. Honestly, I have no idea what a goblin miner wearing a red hat and pushing an empty ore cart says about the state of modern goblin-kobold relations. I’m sure it is profound and important, but well... it doesn’t matter. What did matter, howere, was that the professor asked a question that he wanted all of us to answer, and I didn’t hear the question. I could have asked him to repeat the question, of course, but then I would have had to acknowledge that I had not been paying attention, and since this particular professor hates that, I knew I was going to have to wing it on the answer. Which made me nervous, which made me look for something to chew on, which meant I wasn’t listening to the other answers, which meant I didn’t have a clue when he got to me. So when he said, “Ms. Wolf?” I said I didn’t think I could add anything to the discussion that had not been more profoundly stated in the answers my classmates had already given. This caused the rest of the class to burst out laughing, to which the professor said, “While I appreciate your humility, your answer leaves us no closer to knowing how many siblings you have.” I was mortalfied, but even more so when he said, “Please do try and pay better attention going forward.” Unlive and learn, Clawdia, unlive and learn. 

September 15th

I’ve been using my iCoffin tablet to do some of my writing lately, and I really like it. I mean, I like the tablet. It’s great for doing video chats, and there are some really cool Londoom based apps that have helped me find my way around the city better. As for the writing part, I still prefer my chewed pen and leghoul pad. It may be old-fashioned, but there’s something about a blank sheet of paper that’s less intimidating than a blank scream with a blinking cursor.

October 1st

The only thing that’s coming down faster than the temperature in Londoom right now is the rain. I’m not sure what the real temp is, but you know it’s cold when a werewolf has to put on her fuzzy wool socks... brrr... fortunately, dad did a good job preparing me for this climate by never allowing to turn the thermostat up past the “I can see my breath” mark during the winter. We would say, “Dad, the house is freezing!” to which he would always reply, “You can either have heat or you can eat.” Followed quickly by, “We’re werewolves, for ghoul’s sake, put on a sweater if you’re cold.” Then we’d all look at mom, who would just shrug her soldiers. It was one of the only things she couldn’t change his mind about. So we’d all just sit snuggled together on the couch watching bad TV, complaining about Howleen’s sharp, unclipped paw nails and making promises about what we’d do when we all moved out and got our own places. I distinctly remember saying that I would turn up the heat so high that it would make Gloom Beach seem like a Yeti cave. So the first time it got cold here, I did just that, and it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be, until I got my first heating bill. Let’s just say that grocery shopping for the next few weeks gave me a completely different perspective on dad’s old saying. I’m pretty confident that saltines and marmite will never darken the shelves of my cupboard again after having that formerly tasty combination as my only breakfast and lunch option for a fortnight. I’m really missing being able to snuggle up on the couch with my pack of siblings, and I wouldn’t even complain about Howleen’s uncut paw nails... well, maybe not a lot.  

October 6th

I had a great video chat with the fam tonight, and they could not stop talking about Draculaura being chosen as queen of the vampires. They were in complete shock, and I have to admit it was quite a surprise to me as well. The vampires haven’t had a queen since the last chosen one, a young vampire ghoul named Elissabat, disappeared some 400 years ago. What is really curious about this, as if Draculaura being chosen as the new queen right out of the boo wasn’t curious enough, is that Clawdeen told me Draculaura’s choice was confirmed by the Vampire’s Heart. I have actually been doing quite a bit of research on the heart, which is really just a massive jewel with magical properties, for a screamplay I wanted to write about the mystery of the missing queen. There are many scholars that believe the jewel disappeared at the same time the ghoul who would be queen did; so either the scholars are incorrect, or there is more here than meets the eye. I didn’t want to be the one to rain on the funeral though, until I had a little more proof, especially with Clawdeen being so excited about attending the coronation. I did notice that Clawd wasn’t in the room with everyone else, and I’m wondering how he is dealing with this news. 

October 7th

Clawdeen has sent me at least 30 texts and emails since last night detailing the fashions she’s thinking about taking to the coronation. I can see her now running around the room with absolutely every piece of clothing she owns spread out so she can mix and match fashions. She’s probably also been through Draculaura’s closet several times as well. I love her so much and I wish I could be there to make her laugh when she starts getting too serious. She’s so beautiful, though, that whatever she chooses will probably steal the show. I finally got an IM from Clawd asking if we could talk. This wasn’t unusual, since Clawd prefers one-on-one conversation to fighting for face time in a group. When he popped up on the screen he looked terrible, almost like he’d been crying, although it might have just been bad lighting. As usual, Clawd didn’t want to talk about himself and instead wanted to know every little thing I was doing. I finally had to say, “Stop howling around the moon and talk to me, little brother.” So he did. He told me that he didn’t trust the Lord Stoker character that showed up with the Vampire’s Heart claiming it led him to Draculaura. What’s more, neither did Draculaura. They both thought Draculaura would be miserable being queen, but that she would feel honor and duty bound to take the throne. Even so he was trying to be as supportive as possible and went on for a few more minutes about things that were worrying him. When he stopped I said, “You really love her, don’t you?” He looked down for a moment and swallowed hard, “She’s my best friend, sis, and I’m about to lose her forever.” Now it was my turn to swallow hard, and then he made an excuse about having to leave for practice and said a hasty goodbye. I’m going to do some more digging into this, because something doesn’t pass the smell test here, and a Wolf’s nose is always right. 

[everbloomjardin]

-( this is a very old post from the early Rowdy era. That's where he finally clicked as a character, to me

Ps: It refuses to let me do a read more, my sincere apologies about that )-

Rowdy's stay in the waterfalls, while he was on his way to Snodwin, lasted longer than he normally would have stayed. It wasn't that he enjoyed it so much more than his own. No. This time he was on duty. It began to have a ring to it and he had no idea why it felt so satisfying. The fact that Rowdy was going to be some sort of peacekeeper, for a while, made him feel important. Curse that droopy flower for instigating this feeling in his brain. It was a purpose, it was something he wanted. At least, maybe he would manage to gain some form of credibility in this timeline, if he completes this task. But there were so many doubts in his mind, what if Paci's information would be lies? Just tricks to get rid of him...

Rowdy shook his head, surely there was some decency in those flowers. He knew he was entirely different on a lot of aspects, but was he REALLY that different? That was something he always had wondered, where he was similar and where he was different. "I mean... Apart from my being taller than every one of them, there has to be things in which they are just like me. He said he was as broken as I was, but how broken **WAS** I, now that I think of it. Not a lot of this makes sense, I have to say." He said to himself. He began his mental checklist by taking every detail of the waterfalls that he could. Maybe was he also trying to find another spot where he could hide, since the previous one was now known by Paci, which was the first thing he never wanted to see happen. But he knew the flower WASN'T exactly a direct threat.

Then things started to come back to his mind. "All in order to do the right thing, huh? And yet..." he stopped his own thoughts and sighed. It made no sense to him that everybody that hurt him in the name of doing the right thing turned out to be justified, while he... He sighed and shook his head. There were so many things in play, now. It was refreshing, but in a way he didn't like all that much.

Then, there were the monsters. He openly killed another flower in Snowdin, after all. In plain sight, for all he knew. He enjoyed it, he knew it. Deep inside of him, as much as he wasn't in control of himself, he enjoyed what he had done. To end a life, oh how that was satisfying. Was it the right thing to do, though? No... He knew it was what had started this whole deal of strife that he was stuck in, and coming to the realization of it felt like it was by far too late. Did it serve him right, though? That was highly debatable. He knew that displaying a cordial and friendly attitude towards the monsters in general was going to be met with distrust, if not flat out verbal hostility, so he had to think of a way to convey the opposite.

He had his moldsmal friends, that was true, but they weren't as verbal to other monsters as he was. That was going to be a problem. Speaking of them, he felt like paying them all a visit, the ones in waterfall at the very least. He always felt happy when he met with them, exchanged with them, played with them. Sure, it looked like all he was doing was a bunch of wiggling and giggling, but he felt like he was connecting with a people he still identified to. To him it was being with family, his REAL family. "She wouldn't understand that..." he thought to himself.

After he was done catching up with his old friends, he excused himself. Somehow, the input his moldsmal friends gave felt like actual and genuine encouragement. Maybe trying to also work on his temper WAS a good idea and make sure he wasn't stung and annoyed by whatever 'Flowey' said to him so easily. Then, there were all those plans for vengeance. Somehow he felt that he still needed to carry them out. He did know why. He knew what, in his mind, needed retribution. But the goal was so heavily guarded that getting to it was either going to need too much work or it was just going to take very long to get to. The thought of it bothered him, to a degree he hated. A lot.

So his modus operandi was decided upon. Interact with the monsters as much as he possibly can and take as much of an inventory of everything he saw, in the waterfalls. This was how he was going to proceed, since he a) didn't have access to his soul so that he can move faster and, b) needed to do this job right. Maybe showing he was methodic to a degree, if not a bit zealous with his attention to detail was going to be a display that he was doing a good job? Surely it would be the case?

"What if it makes him want to befriend me... Am I going to have to entirely cast away any attempt at giving him what is coming to him?" he asked himself, the very first room of the waterfall was reached. Onto Snowdin...

When he reached the last room of Snowdin, he sighed. "This goes against everything I stand for, this CAN'T be right..." he thought to himself. He took in his surroundings, every little detail of it. Like taking a mental photo of things. Where everything was. Who and what was there at every moment. It felt encouraging to use SOME of his traits to do something good. Maybe all those people who wanted to push him into being a good flower were onto something. He pulled out his 3DP and literally began filming the very first room he was in, when he exited the Waterfall to get to Snowdin.

"This is so that I can keep track of every room, in case I need to find something that feels amiss..." he said so that it could be on his recording. This was going to be his modus operandi. Film every room he trudged through and when monsters were caught on tape, just have them wave, say hello, things like this. That was at least going to make him look like he had a hobby. At least that was his hope on the matter. First room done, moving onto the next room. A smirk came to his lips. *Rowdy, admit it, you're playing detective and you're enjoying the piss out of it. That'll be a hell of a conversation to have with him, whenever he comes back from his little nonsense, whatever it is.* He smiled. Genuinely.

The second room of Snowdin felt rather samey. There was nothing much to see that was different from the last time he had gone through, if there were monsters, he was going to greet them, maybe even wave. Some form of enjoyment started to creep up in his thoughts. This really began sounding like fun! Was this what having fun was? A bit of a cheerful demeanor started creeping up on the tall flower. Maybe with his mangled state he would manage to look friendly and cheerful? Or was this just the result of attempts at breaking him down that led to this: defeat and a breakdown do profound he became nothing but a pile of happy? He preferred choosing the alternative that he was just having fun, somehow it felt genuine and real.

Then, he made it into Snowdin proper. He made sure he got as much details as he could, in his recording. Monsters, those were plentiful in this town. He remembered that. He caught himself missing the days where HIS snowdin had that many monsters and this much activity. It was neat to feel nostalgia that didn't involve remembering massacre and what literally was identifiable as a ghost town. He'd have to cherish that feeling and try to build up on it.

Every monsters he met, he greeted them, this time. Some of them he even asked to wave at the camera, say something silly. Anything to show a genuinely friendly demeanor to the monsters. Wouldn't it be glorious if he stumbled on Papyrus and had him say something. He realized he had never met a proper Papyrus. That would be something he needed to take care of, later. For now to catalog this part of the underground, from his resting spot to the very first room of the Ruins. Then he would work his way back and try to see if he couldn't meet with Asgore himself.

Then, he reached the one room where he had killed. He stopped. Both his body from moving, and his recording. He looked at the whole area and took everything with a more aware eye, now. He sighed. For the first time he realized he wanted to take back that moment. So much.

He remembered every little detail. His laying of traps, his setting up as many traps as he could. His broken state kept telling him every flower he would meet was going to try and kill him. And yet. Zorch happened, talks with Pots happened. He made a deal with Paci. None of them actively tried to kill him. There was torture, yes, but never an active attempt at murder. A frown came to him. He became wracked with guilt. The realization of how wrong what he had done was. "Oh Dog... they were right..." he whispered as his body did the equivalent of a person falling to their knees.

He was right where he had gotten the kill. This ever so satisfying feeling of having taken another life. Claimed the soul that came from it. Oh how he missed that soul. To him, it had a personality, it was an entity of its own. He remembered in one of his moments of 'meditation' where he spoke with the soul. It even began pointing towards a more pacifist direction and he felt, at that time, that it was SUCH a good idea. That using the powers of this soul to fix things, in his own timeline. Oh what a plan that was! What a glorious plan, this was. He had it all figured out. He was going to try and pacify the hostility of Hotlands and find a way to make the monsters cooperate, then they could've become an army that was going to get rid of that green demon. That Vandi. And then... he would have had peace.Who knows! He could've even probably save Toriel!

He gave himself a few moments, to linger in this spot and shed a tear. A genuine tear. It felt very strange that this was the very moment that he had Pots'ed. All he ever wanted was getting power and find a way to use it to fix his timeline. In hindsight, as much as he already knew that, how wrong THIS was began hitting him. As much as he hated it, he knew it was necessary for him to come to this conclusion. IT wasn't too late, right!? RIGHT?!

He recomposed himself and looked in the direction of the Ruins. His whole stem felt incredibly heavy. His mind wandered and pondered the possible outcome of seeing Toriel, after this exchange that felt truly hurtful to him. He knew that he had hurt her feelings, but he felt it was necessary that he showed her just how hurtful HER words were to him. He knew exactly what she implied, too. *One day, you'll just end up on your own, with no pillar to lean on. A hunted beast that everybody wants dead.*

He made his way to the very first room of Snowdin and stared at the gateway leading to the Ruins. He felt heavier than he had ever felt before. "She has to know... She has to see what her words did..." he thought out loud. Looking at his 3DP, he turned off his recording and headed towards the ruins, dragging himself loud enough to attract attention, once he'd be inside the house...