i have come up with a new, extremely self indulgent AU for tfrb:
basically what happens is each individual character in tfp accidentally finds out about the rescue bots, whether it's through a ground bridge mishap, an intel scouting mission, even a situation where they get rescued.
this starts out with mostly autobots, because i assume griffin rock is either in autobot territory or a neutral/unclaimed area (or it's off the grid and nobody knows about it) (i think the last one is the funniest), but the decepticons also learn about them eventually.
now. here's where the funny/self indulgent part begins. none of them know anyone else knows. the autobots AND decepticons all assume they're the only one who knows about these bots, and that the team has been trying to live a normal, calm life away from the war.
team prime doesn't know optimus and bumblebee already know, and the decepticons don't know that these guys have connections to the war. and of course, the rescue bots always manage to worm their way into every. single. bot's. spark. all of them individually grow to care about the rescue bots, and independently decide to keep them secret. nobody wants their new friends to get hurt!
anyways shenanigans of course ensue because it's very hard to keep a previously extinct group a secret from all of your friends, and since everybody knows but doesn't know everybody knows it becomes a lot of ridiculous sneaking around and badly lying to everyone.
the rescue bots are SUPER confused by all these bots who keep showing up, but they pretty much just assume that someone spilled their secret and everyone after are all showing up to meet them. eventually i think they would start to figure everything out, but they don't fully comprehend that everyone has been trying to hide them from each other until some big reveal happens.
the way this pans out is probably the end of the war honestly, because again; no one wants these guys to get hurt, physically or emotionally, and if that means having a ceasefire so be it.
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People have got to stop being weird about nonbinary/agender characters like, for real. There is no "actual gender" to figure out. If they go by neutral pronouns, and everyone around them uses neutral pronouns, then maybe, that is in fact their gender. They're not 'actually a girl' or 'actually a boy'.
So like, it super bugs me every time I see ppl going on about figuring out Opera's 'actual gender' or what they 'really are'. As if they aren't a whole ass enby. That IS their gender, plain and simple.
And man, if that's how u act about fictional characters, I'd hate to see how you treat real human beings that are some form of nonbinary/agender.
ALSO, we straight up have a whole sukima that basically spells out Opera's approach to gender which is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 'don't care'. Iruma literally asks and the final conclusion is, Opera does not give a shit.
Which is, tbh how I approach gender online. Yeah I do have pronouns listed in my bio but honestly I do not care that much you use. God knows I've been he/him'd a lot online. As long as it's not malicious I don't care(I got more important things to concern myself with).
Which, seems to be Opera's approach to it. They don't care. It's whatever.
Opera absolutely has some flavour of gender fuckery going on, be it nonbinary, agender, genderqueer or whatever, There is no 'real gender' to figure out.
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here's how it goes:
everyone spends valentine's day in DEEP denial. tubbo isn't dead, he CAN'T be. when they die they come back, that's how it is, how it's ALWAYS been. the island is hell but at least fatalities don't stick, except in specific cases and all of them in the same white shells. of course philza jokes, he's thinking about tubbo, he can't stop. he's expecting tubbo to jump out at any moment, he's expecting to go to fobo and see tubbo hidden in the basement throwing darts at a picture of fit and pac looking at each other, he's expecting to go back to the dungeon and the body is gone (he hopes). tubbo's not dead. he can't die. none of them can, just the eggs.
(it never takes this long to come back; he knows something is wrong)
here's how it goes:
tubbo tells the kids "i'm on my last life." the eggs have always had lives. i don't think some of them have ever understood that the players have infinite chances, with their insistence on protecting their caretakers from deaths like their caretakers do for them, charging back into the eye worker war, refusing to back out of a dangerous dungeon before their parents do, wanting to protect. i don't know if they understand that to the players, death is like spit in the face: unpleasant, sure, but no big deal.
tubbo tells the kids "i'm on my last life" and of course they believe him. death is their constant companion, no more than two doors down. some eggs are used to it being a breath away.
here's how it goes:
tubbo is dead. the children mourn him. the players are scared. defiant. they always are. who among them has died? dan, missing; spreen, gone; maximus... well there was no body, no announcement, surely-
(how long did it take pierre to accept it? to realize it? to take down the missing person posters? not a day. not a day.)
juanaflippa died and there was a court case to save her. bobby died and the whole server journeyed to save him. when is the last time the players have taken death lying down?
here's how it goes:
tubbo dies, and he dies unloved (fit's arm is stretched out to save him). he dies without purpose (sunny is there, she's waiting, she knows he won't move). he dies and no one cares (chayanne refuses to leave, his godfather, he failed his-)
here's how it goes:
the valentine's party is so loud but too quiet. there's a name in the air, even when no one is saying it
"wow sure is good tubbo isn't here" phil says (he's said this before, he'll say it again, but isn't it strange how many times? perhaps even he doesn't believe it. perhaps he's trying to convince himself.)
here's how it goes:
a creature with too many faces comes. it tells them the truth they won't face. tubbo is gone.
quesadilla island says, "not for long"
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You cannot imagine how I ran when I got the notif. It was so xdcwvbebw and cvscebw and also xwvwvwbbe<3333 yeah. Also…where is that alternative scene you wrote babe🫢? (*Fake caughs* nothing, I said nothing at all)
HI BABY!!!!!!!!!!!
last reggie POV.... i canny believe it.... (except actually one of the silly little epilogue's is in his POV, but still) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OKAY SO i know i love to toe the line with my M rated smut scenes and after seeking guidance from my wonderful knowledgeable pals it was determined that the original was a little TOO far. there aren't a huge amount of changes but... well yeah
here you go sweetheart ;)
(NSFW below the cut)
He crushes his lips against James’s like he’s got something to prove, even though he doesn’t. Not to James, never to James.
His lips are cold and wet and the best thing Regulus has ever tasted, and he moans as James’s tongue slips between his teeth and the hand tangled in his hair twists, dull pain tingling across his scalp as James pulls, hard, making him moan and roll his hips shamelessly against him.
“Fuck, Reggie, can I–” he pants against Regulus’s mouth, his right hand slipping down wet skin from the small of Regulus’s back to the base of his spine like he owns him, like he knows him, and James’s skin is so hot against his own that Regulus almost expects to see steam rising from where they’re joined.
“Yes,” he moans, chest hitching as James’s hand slips further down to grab at his arse, fingertips digging roughly into his skin. “Please.”
The hand at his nape disappears for a moment but Regulus is kept happy by the soft, wet lips against the sensitive skin of his throat, the words James is pressing into his skin with his teeth and tongue not making any sense until Regulus is being lowered onto a thick, warm blanket beneath the umbrella charm, a warming charm rippling through the air.
“Gods, you’re so pretty, look at you,” James tells him as he kneels above Regulus’s naked body, his legs splayed wide and still clinging to James’s hips like he’s desperate, and he is, he is desperate, so desperate for it that Regulus wants to beg, wants to surrender, wants to take anything and everything he’s given as long as it’s James’s; his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his cock.
He looms over Regulus and he arches his back and bares his throat in response, and he’s panting, chest heaving, wrecked and ruined already and he can’t take his eyes away from James’s own soft, deep honey, warm and dark with a look that makes his blood rush and his skin tingle in anticipation.
James falls towards him, one hand planted on either side of his body, kissing Regulus’s lips before that mouth—that sinful, sensual fucking mouth—slips down his throat, teeth nipping over his clavicles, hot tongue teasing peaked nipples and lapping up the rain water that still cascades across Regulus’s skin, over the curves of his ribcage.
The drag of James’s tongue and teeth down his navel, then up and around the curve of his waist is wicked and teasing and perfect, and he thinks he might still be on fire; that he can still feel the flames lick at his bones beneath his skin.
It’s when James brushes his lips ever so slightly over the curve of Regulus’s hip, mouth slipping along Regulus’s iliac crest like he’s the gods’ most devout subject following the path to heaven with his tongue—if heaven could ever feel this depraved, this unholy—that Regulus’s stomach clenches and his cock throbs, and a moan slips out from between his teeth as he throws his head back, one arm raised above him to grapple in the wet grass and mud as if clinging on for dear life.
“You gorgeous thing,” James whispers into the crease of his thigh, their eyes meeting over the rise and fall of Regulus’s heaving chest, but only for a moment, because that’s all Regulus can stand before he has to look away, shaking and biting his lip, eyelids fluttering at the feeling of hot breath against rain-slicked skin.
“You’ve got the prettiest hole I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles as he runs his lips across the insides of Regulus’s thighs, strong fingers digging hard into the backs of them, thumbs spreading Regulus apart like only the most obscene of offerings.
“I’m gonna get you so wet,” James promises him, teeth biting short and sharp into the meat of Regulus’s arse like an impulse—a temptation he couldn’t resist—and Regulus cries out, voice getting lost below the rumbling thunder. “Gonna finger you until you cry, baby. You’re gonna be so ready. So gorgeous.”
His own teeth are clenched shut because he knows if they aren’t then he’ll let James’s name slip out on a moan, and he will; he wants to, wants to chant James’s name like a prayer, like a hymn, like a promise and a curse and a song and a plea, but not yet.
Not until he can’t bear it.
But fuck had he forgotten about the things James says when he’s got Regulus naked and wanting beneath him, begging for his touch with his lip between his teeth and his fingers clenched, desperate, curled around James’s hair and throat and the swell of his bicep.
The umbrella charm is weakening with James’s distraction, and light rain drips down the sides of Regulus’s face as he tilts his head even further back against the blanket beneath him, curves his spine even more, driving himself down against James’s hand as he slips his fingers inside of him, one, by one, by one, achingly slowly.
“Please, please, please,” he begs—seconds, moments, minutes later, utterly and completely desperate, a slave to the onslaught of James’s three crooked fingers and the tongue that’s curled around Regulus’s cock, and he can’t take it any longer.
“Go on, baby, say it,” James tells him, lips brushing Regulus’s own as he bottoms out, as Regulus is finally filled, their naked bodies pressed together in the warm air and the cold rain that falls heavier and heavier over them as he lies there and takes it, aching sweetly where they’re joined.
There are tears pooling in Regulus’s eyes and James’s thumb in his mouth and he can’t look away from his face framed by the stormy sky above, and the bright, warm eyes staring back into his own.
“James,” he whispers.
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I do gotta say tho, even tho I’m mad at aziraphale because he’s being a terrible boyfriend like what you said about the “I forgive you like” because WHAT. But also I really like the way the show really demonstrates the underlying cruelty of heaven and it’s angels. Really shows the hypocrisy of a group of beings who are supposed to do good, especially aziraphale who really buys into the heaven propaganda, who hurts people, particularly the person who means the most to him. Because like you said he fully just takes advantage of that devotion Crowley has for him. Insane, this shwo makes me INSANE
I missed this anon and yeah! The angels were one of my favourite parts of the season, and I think the strongest element aside from Neil Gaiman deciding he's just a simple man who wants to put his otp in situations. They are deeply awful and I kind of love them. They are the exact kind of moralizing hypocrites who are callous and cruel precisely because they think being on team good means everything they do is justified and it's actually impossible for them to be in the wrong (they're angels! is it even possible for them to do the wrong thing?).
but!! To me, they also seem like they're basically kids? Obviously they're not literally children, but there is this very consistent reoccurring joke about how childish/sheltered/immature they are. Muriel is the most obvious example, but the archangels come off like bratty twelve year olds to her sweet little kid.
Gabriel is basically teenager in love flipping off his family as he runs away with his backstreet guy. Uriel is constantly picking at Michael, Michael is playing at being in charge like it's a game, and it's ridiculously easy for both Aziraphale and Crowely to trick them obvious half assed lies. They're not allowed to ask questions! The Metatron treats them like badly behaved kids out past their curfew. At any point an old man with a beard may pop up to scold them and send them home, and they're all scared of doing something wrong by his standards and getting in trouble with this guy who is pointedly not God but who lines up exactly with the pop-culture idea of god the father, and who offers Aziraphale, among other things, a respite from the hard work of figuring out what the right thing to do is for himself. It's fine! You don't have to question the belief system you were born into or make a painful break with everything you've ever known! Aziraphale has had six thousand years on earth to grow up, but the other angels have been sitting in a sterile white box playing "i'm not touching you" games with each other and filing paperwork.
And I think that's extra interesting because this season also really emphasizes:
Heaven has Institutional Problems
Aziraphale isn't the only angel who's unhappy in heaven. Gabriel and Muriel were both completely miserable. They just didn't understand that they were unhappy because they'd never experienced anything else.
Angels who aren't Aziraphale can change and grow! There's very explicitly Gabriel being changed by love and Muriel growing up a bit on earth, and from a more fan-theory angle there's also Jimbriel, who I think is probably basically Gabriel minus the war and six thousand years of playing referee for Michael and Uriel while unleashing an assortment of plague and calamities on earth because that's God's will! Buck up champ.
We also get Gabriel and Beezelebub talking about how their underlings basically live for Armageddon, "if you can call that living." This is so bleak. They've all been on a six thousand year time out just dreaming of the day they get to beat the shit out of each other until they feel better, but it won't work because eternity is just more of the box.
Anyway I think it's going in a distinctly eden adjacent direction. Aziraphale is going to tempt those angels with knowledge and the capacity for change. I have veered so far from your ask anon i'm sorry you're right heaven really went all out on sucking this season & while Crowley and Aziraphale are both fucking it up Crowley refrains from being spectacularly cruel to Aziraphale about it and Aziraphale should learn to return the favour. I forgive you!! I forGIVE you. I forgive YOU. "you can be an angel again" is actually a worse thing to say than "you're a demon. i don't even like you." when he finally picks crowley over heaven i'm going to lose my mind.
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