#this keeps happening and i’ve got this theory that there has got to be some kind of hole in the kitchen ceiling that leads to outside

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

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PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

[shiny-jr]

damnation (peek I?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ace Trappola, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Riddle Rosehearts.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: So, as mentioned in previous posts, this is only a snippet of what is to come in a project I’m working on. I just wanted to do something for my followers since we have surpassed the milestone that is 4,000 hearts, which is huge. So thank you! Unfortunately, I don’t really have time for a special like I’ve done before where I accept requests since I’ve been so busy with irl stuff and the current twst quiz project. So here’s a small bit of what you can hopefully expect. Remember, I may or may not change things, so what you see now may not be the same later in the final result. That being said, I’m sorry I couldn’t provide much else besides peeks at three of the seven results. I still have a LOT more to write. Like, a ton. But I hope you all look forward of what is to come. Added: Deleted the Scarabia and Pomefiore part to create their own sneak-peeks later.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

First there will be questions you must answer. Questions that I will not reveal in this sneak-peek, but based on the answers you give to those questions, you will receive a result with a story. This post is a peek at some of those stories/results. Important things to keep in mind that you learn from the questions: 

The mc is deemed a criminal in their society.

All criminals in this society are banished, no matter how insignificant or significant the crime may be. 

This particular society makes a show of banishment, to make others fear this fate. Which mc recalls seeing trials on tv about past criminals. 

All criminals are never seen or heard from again. No one knows for certain what happens to them, but most assume death. 

Although the most popular fantastical theory is that criminals become henchmen for infamous evil-doers, and receive punishment there that may range from anywhere like a violent painful death to spending eternity in some tiny horrid prison. 

THE RED QUEEN

Robes. You were wearing robes of the finest quality that weighed heavily on your shoulders. This surface you laid on felt... nice. Soft, nothing like the hard bench of the prison cell. As you sat up and recalled your current dire situation, you felt a sense of dread loom overhead like a thick blanket of gray clouds. Immediately, fearfully, you scanned your surroundings. Everything was painted red, there was so much red velvet. The floors were polished checkered black and white and the furniture, if not completely red, was crafted of finely carved wood. It was fancy here. Safe, for now. Wherever this place was.

There was something hefty on your head, only noticing its weight settling on your skull as you moved to stand up from the crimson red sheets on the king-sized mattress. As you removed the item from your head, you were perplexed to see a small golden crown and a heart-shaped staff beside the spot you had laid on. Wait just a moment... red everywhere? A fancy setting? A crown and a heart-shaped staff? Rapidly you dashed over to the mirror just beside the bed, gasping at your appearance.

You were dressed just like royalty. And not just any royalty, like a king. A king of red with a heart-shaped staff... Just like the meek king that was married to the ruthless Queen of Hearts from the fairytales. So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... you were the king. How did the story go again?

The Red Queen, or Queen of Hearts, ruled over Wonderland with an iron fist. She would behead anyone who got in her way, and her reign terrorized the residents of the realm. That is, until Alice fell down a hole and arrived in Wonderland. She would eventually free this land from the oppressive rein of the queen. As for the king... what happened to him again? He didn't really appear in the story. You wracked your memory for an answer, when the horrid realization came to you. The Red Queen had been so terribly jealous and suspected that her husband was cheating, that she had him beaded! His head left to rot as it floated in a river of blood, surrounded by the heads of other victims, and the king's lifeless skull still with the crown. He had died before Alice even arrived in Wonderland!

You clutched your neck, grimacing at the thought of your own detached head, crown still attached, doomed to sail in a moat of blood. It made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. There had to be a way to prevent your death, or at least stall for time, but how? The king couldn't just up and run away! People would take notice immediately, someone would inform the queen, and you'd be a goner for sure! But then what? You couldn't kill her either, could you...? It certainly was an idea. You would be doing a favor for the rest of Wonderland too...

THUMP!

Abruptly the doors flew open, nearly causing you to shriek. But you managed to hold your tongue as you quickly placed your crown back on and clutched your staff. When your eyes focused on the door, you were surprised and almost relieved to see the figure of a short young man that had slammed the doors open. He was... rather adorable, actually. It caused you to tilt your head, endeared by his appearance.

The young man had hair that shamed the red roses, and wide gray eyes. As soon as his eyes landed on you, however, his face grew flush and his expression twisted into one of rage. Immediately he slammed the doors shut behind him, stomping up to you, his heels violently clicking against the tiled floors. When the short young man was in your face, another horrible realization dawned on you. With that crown on his head and his wondrous red garbs, this could only be the queen. Or at least, someone meant to be the red queen.

“You knave! Where have you been lurking?!”

“I…” You were at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? What was the king even doing before you got here? Most importantly, how would you avoid the queen’s wrath?

At your lack of a response, he only seemed to grow more frustrated as he threw wild accusations, “You–– You’ve been sneaking about, seducing the men of my court, haven’t you?! I shall have your head––!”

“Wha–– N-No, I haven’t!” You blurted out. The king was originally beheaded because the queen was jealous and thought she would lose him to others. So if you could assure him that your heart belonged to him, well… survival just might be possible. Although acting wasn’t necessarily your strong point, you could only try for the sake of living another day. Nervously you smiled, throwing aside your staff as you lifted your hands to gently hold his fist he had been angrily waving near your face. Thank god he didn’t have a knife or anything of the sort, or you feared he may have tried to stab you out of raging envy. “How could I ever dare to throw my loyalty to you away…? You are amazing…! I apologize sincerely if I haven’t been able to express my love for you properly. S-Sometimes it feels like you’re really too much for my heart to handle, you in all your… glory…!” Oh god, this was going terribly. All you could do to give the messy act a bow to top it off, was lean your head down and hesitantly kiss the back of his hand.

Miraculously, that seemed to work. Almost. The queen’s face was no longer as flushed, but he gazed down at you as you lingered at his hand. Suspicion was still evident in his eyes. “How do I know?”

“H-Huh…?”

“How do I know you aren’t lying? How do I know you won’t leave me as well? How do I know that you still love me? Prove it to me.” Those gray eyes of his watched you carefully, seemingly unhappy with your lack of a response. After about five seconds of no answer, his face scrunched up and he bellowed, “Guards!! Gua–– mmph!”

Not knowing what else to do, you kissed him. He wanted a sign of devotion, right? Oh god, this was it. Your death was here and now. You had no other way to shut him up. If you covered his mouth with your hands, you were a goner. If you attacked him, you were a goner. If you tried to continue reasoning, you were still a goner! You can’t believe that this was how you died, having to kiss a stranger as your last desperate attempt to live. Well, he wanted a sign. You were ready for him to push you off and armored guards come running in to drag you to the guillotine, when the most unexpected thing happened. He froze, he didn’t fight back or scream bloody murder.

When you slowly pulled away, you were stunned. His face was flush again, but for an entirely different reason other than anger. There was a dazed look on his face, and it almost looked as if he wanted to do it again judging by how he gazed longingly at your lips. It was then you understood that your reckless decision making might’ve just saved your neck.

The red ruler frowned, but you were unsure if it was because he was unsatisfied with something or if it were for another reason entirely. This time, when he opened his mouth, he spoke softly, as if still dazed. “You scoundrel… How dare you play with my heart like this? I should still take your head for that.” You gulped, but he continued. “But… I truly didn’t want to get rid of you. So I’m glad we can avoid that now. I expect to see you well away from the noblemen.”

“Y-Yes… Your Majesty.”

At your obedient response, he smiled and patted your head. “Good.” Taking one step closer, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your cheek. He lingered there for a few moments, before taking one step back.

The action left you flustered, embarrassed, because not only had you kissed a stranger but they had kissed you in return. And not only that, this crimson ruler believed you were his partner, the king! Under normal circumstances, you would’ve considered yourself lucky to land in such a position since the king has so much power and wealth. But in this type of situation, you can only shudder to think of what may come next and what would’ve become of you. Because these were no ordinary circumstances, and this was no normal kind ruler.

“Come along now. I don’t want you alone, do you understand?”

“Yes… Your Majesty.”

He beckoned you towards the very doors he entered from, and when he opened them, you were met with another character. It was a tall man with glasses and short messy dark green hair. Immediately he bowed to the queen, but when his eyes landed on you, he looked as if he saw a ghost.

“Change of plans, Trey. We will not be beheading my dear today. Nor tomorrow, I think. They’ve become quite affectionate, so my doubts have been dismissed.”

“O-Of course, Your Majesty…” The glass-wearing man, Trey, glanced over at you with disbelief, but he looked a bit relieved, it’s as if he wanted to say something. But he opted to hold his tongue and instead shifted his gaze forward as he walked beside the red-haired royal. “There is still that soldier imprisoned that displeased you.”

“Ah yes, the one that claimed to see those messy blonde locks but failed to capture our lost wanderer. Bring him to me in the throne room.” Just then he glanced at you as you walked a bit behind him, “My dear, you must be there with me. This should be quite the spectacle. I will see you in a moment.”

“A-As you say, Your Majesty…” You replied stiffly.

He frowned and stopped in his tracks before grabbing your collar and bringing your face closer to his. What you half expected was a sharp knife against your throat, something that would kill you, but there was no such thing. There was only his sharp gaze and disappointed tone. “You’re supposed to respond with: my dear. Not Your Majesty, not Rosehearts, but perhaps I’ll allow Riddle for now. Do you understand, dearest?”

So his name was Riddle. Judging by Riddle’s tone, he wasn’t angry, but rather irked that all the sweetness from earlier was now gone. Proceeding, you chose your words carefully as you attempted to smile as convincingly as possible, “Y-Yes, of course, anything you say, Riddle, my darling.”

At your words his cheeks became a pink hue before he let go of you and cleared his throat, quickly turning away and proceeding forward towards the end of the hall where he had whatever duties to fulfill. So you were left with Trey, his subordinate. The calm tall man’s shoulders sagged once the royal left, all the tension seemingly evaporating from his body. When he gave you a somewhat soft smile, your worries ceased for the moment as well. “I’m glad you’re still intact. I was certain you were a goner.” He was… nice? “You need to be more careful. I don’t know what you did to change Riddle’s mind, but he was ready to behead you himself. You know how he keeps that huge battle ax under his bed. He mentioned something about using that, and I thought he was going to use it to chop your head clean off.”

Oh god. That little guy was going to do that? That stupid kiss really did save your skin. “Heh, I’m still a little shaken…” Wait, you were supposed to be acting like the king! What did the king even act like? How were you supposed to know? He never even lived long enough to make it into the story! “I, um, am very appreciative towards your concern… Trey.”  

Trey appeared a bit surprised but he then smiled once more at you. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, we have a situation on our hands.”

What kind of situation? You didn’t even have time to ask when Trey led you down the checkered hall to an opening behind velvet red curtains which were the entrance directly to the large elegant throne room. There, you saw another stranger talking animatedly to the less-than-pleased-looking Rosehearts. This stranger had orange hair that brushed against his lower neck, and he had much more enthusiasm than those you had encountered thus far.

“Dear, there you are.” Instantly Riddle visibly brightened up as he gestured to the soft smaller heart-shaped throne beside his much larger grand seat. “Come, sit, we’re currently discussing the important matters at hand. Such as the dilemma with our prisoner. Cater, continue.”

When this Cater, fellow’s, green eyes trailed over to you, they became filled with surprise as he fumbled over his words, “Huh–– O-Oh! Right!” Forcing his gaze back on the red-haired royal, he began explaining, “There’s nothing really new to talk about, Your Majesty! I mean, seriously, this rookie was just the unlucky one that happened to see that blondie Ellis. According to him when I went to question him, he just said that he saw the guy in blue and when he went to confront him, Ellis escaped with some purple beastman!”

“Purple beastman…?” For a mere moment he appeared perplexed, when quickly the dots began to connect in his mind as he gasped, “Chen’ya! Why, the nerve of that––!”

When you saw his face begin to heat up again and a look of anger crossed his face, you slowly placed your hand over his arm that rested on the armrest of the throne. Then, he froze, everyone else, Trey, Cater, the few servants, the many armored guards in the room, they all were wide-eyed at what you had done. You had touched the queen when they were about to enter a fit of rage! You messed up–– Shit––

Riddle released a slow breath before placing his other hand atop your own. You felt such a massive flood of relief knowing you made the right move when he appeared much calmer as he nodded his head toward you, “Thank you, my dear. We shall discuss a proper punishment for that wretched feline later. For now…” Instantly his voice did a one-eighty as he turned his head toward the two imposing doors and shouted, “Bring him!!”

Nervously you looked over at Trey who stood tall and upright by Riddle’s side, and he remained oddly focused on the door. And that orange-haired guy, Cater, where did he go…?

“Hey…!”

Your eyes flittered over to you right where Cater was bent over a bit to whisper in your ear, while everyone else was distracted by the prisoner being escorted inside.

“I’m so happy that you’ve alive…! Don’t go dying on me so quickly, ‘kay? You wouldn’t leave me all alone here, would you?”

“Uh… no, of course not.” Huh. This Cater guy seemed pretty close to the king, or now you actually.

When you averted your eyes to the front, you listened to the clacking of armor as you watched more soldiers bring forward one of their own. Yet unlike all the others masked by metal, this soldier in shackles didn’t have a helmet. His messy red hair stuck out every which way, which made you wonder how on earth he even managed to fit that mess of hair under a helmet at all. His eyes were glued to the floor, and he wore a stiff frown as his shackles rattled with every step he took until he was right before the steps leading up to the red royal. When he refused to kneel, he was pushed down to his knees as Riddle eyed him with disdain.

Riddle wasted no time, because as soon as this prisoner was on his knees, he began his tirade of questions. “Ace Trappola, was it? We know you saw Ellis. Do you know where he is?”

The soldier’s head lolled forward a bit, his warm-colored eyes stopping on you for a moment as you gazed back at him. In a way, this Ace reminded you of… well, you. In shackles, forced to kneel, in front of a higher authority that was obviously not particularly fond of you, and likely with a sentence that could only mean your doom ahead of you. In a way, you did feel for him after hearing the basis of why he was arrested.

All was silent, only his shackles could be heard again as he slowly shrugged and snapped back, “I’d like to know that too! I mean, I’m sure wherever he is, he’s free as a bird. Meanwhile, me? Locked up for trying to do my job––!”

“Failing to do your only job.” Riddle corrected with a scoff. “I will ask you one more time. Where. Is. Ellis?”

Ace, still annoyed, continued. He must’ve been either stupid or brave for continuing. Although it might’ve been both as he mocked him. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? I. Don’t. Know.”

Under your hand you felt Riddle’s fingers dig into the armrest, his knuckles growing white as he raised his voice an octave, “What if I take off your head? Will you know then?”

“If you took my head, you wouldn’t get any answers after that.” He retorted with a slight eye roll.

Underneath your hand you could feel Roseheart’s anger growing the tighter he dug his nails into the chair. When you saw his face, you and everyone else could tell that he was fit to burst, no doubt ready to seal this soldier’s doom. Instantly you shot up from your throne, wanting to help save this prisoner. However, you very quickly began to regret it when all eyes darted over to your form, and you now became the center of attention. You couldn’t just sit back down, so with no other choice, you awkwardly cleared your throat and proceeded nervously, “My dearest, earlier when in our chambers I had an… um… epiphany! A vision! Y-Yes, I had a vision…! Ellis will slay your–– our, pet dragon jabberwocky.”

Instantly Riddle’s eyes widened. “He killed our jabberwocky?!”

“No…! No, at least not yet!”

Technically you weren’t lying. The story goes that the Red Queen had a powerful dragon, the jabberwocky, which was the main reason why she could keep such a grip on the kingdom with no rebellion ever coming close to dethroning her. At least, that is until Alice comes along and slays the jabberwocky. If you could somehow get rid of Alice, or Ellis in this case, and stay in Riddle Roseheart’s good graces, you would have it made! It was practically certain that the court back home thought you would’ve been beheaded already and your head would float in that river of blood for eternity. Yet here you were, alive, and if things went smoothly, you could live out your life in splendor here. Yes, you’d have to deal with the red royal, but if you could just stay in his good graces at all times, you would have a wonderfully lavish life! At this point you were just speeding things up, Ellis’ intentions of slaying the jabberwocky probably weren’t supposed to be revealed until much later. But, it would make a perfect excuse now.

As all eyes remained on you, you recounted your fake tale, “It all makes sense now…! In… In my vision I saw… A red-haired knight, um, clashing swords with a blonde man in blue and white!” Well, that part was a lie. There never was a red-haired knight in the stories. But this was an opportunity to potentially save Ace as well, and give him a chance to redeem himself in Riddle’s eyes. When you turned to face Ace, he was gazing at you with furrowed eyebrows, but you proceeded anyway as you gave your attention to Riddle now. “Riddle, I think–– I mean, I b-believe that knight is this one here in front of us.”

“Him?” The royal exclaimed in disbelief, looking at the soldier with something akin to disgust. To which the said soldier stuck out his tongue before a stern glare from Trey and Cater made Ace close his mouth. Riddle blinked, quiet for a moment before gazing up at you, his expression softening as he flipped over his hand so it held yours. “Is that what you were doing in our chambers alone? You were studying texts and had a vision, to save me?”

“Y…Yes…?”

His big gray eyes became fixated on you, as his voice became soft when he replied, “I’ve misjudged you, my dear… I believed you were being unfaithful, but you were working hard for me. How wrong I was.” The way he looked at you could only be described as adoringly.

It made you nervous, but you could only awkwardly smile in return. In order to ensure your own life of comfort here, you had to be sure to ruin the plot of the story. This meant that Ellis, the protagonist, could not win no matter what. Although it pained you to do such a thing, knowing that the outcome would most likely mean death by beheading him and his allies, you were more afraid of death than you were of the hero. For this, you would have to make sure the antagonist, Riddle Rosehearts in the role of the Red Queen, obtained a happy ending instead of a bad ending where he himself would be banished after being defeated by Ellis.

Clearing your throat, you hesitantly listed off the sequence of events in the way you recalled them playing out, “In my vision I saw… a blonde boy in blue, a purple feline beastmen, and a hatter, among other allies. Ellis will… will attempt to infiltrate the palace, and gain your favor under a disguise, and steal the ancient sword that can slay our Jabberwocky.” As all eyes and ears remained on you, you hesitated once again, mentally apologizing for what you were about to do. Maybe in the end, you might be able to plead with your supposed spouse to spare them. But deep down, you knew it was unlikely for the ruthless tyrant to even consider the idea. “Your Majesty, my darling, i-if I may make a suggestion…?”

Riddle nodded as he listened attentively, “Go on.”

Thankfully you had moved your hands away from his, and had them folded in your lap so he couldn’t feel the way your fingers trembled with anxiety. “I would like to suggest we allow this knight before us to carry the sword, sheathed and hidden at all times. Let this be his redemption–– um, please, if you allow it, your Majesty.” Said knight gazed up in surprise. “It would be best to keep sir Ace in our sights. So might I ask that he and another capable knight become my guards?” Guards. Smart move, especially if things get hairy later. “I-I’d also like to suggest an increase in your personal escorts too… my dear. So… so you’ll be safe. And, no one else besides those in this room, will know of what we spoke of today––”

“That way, Ellis will come here all on his own, and if he searches for the sword it will not be there.” Riddle finished, to which you nodded. He caught on quickly. “That’s brilliant!” You nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the red royal turned to glance at his two subordinates, Trey and Cater, only to gesture to the former prisoner and demand of them, “Unbind him, Trey. How can he wield a sword if his hands are bound?”

Trey slowly stepped forward as Ace was allowed to stand, and he unlocked the shackles around the knight. Ace continued to peer up at you, suddenly flashing a grateful smile. To which you only caught a glimpse of before being distracted by the redhead on the throne.

“Cater!” Cater stood upright immediately and awaited orders from the royal. “Find a suitable knight to escort my partner! I expect only the strongest and most obedient of knights! Am I understood?”

“You got it, Your Majesty! I already have a few in mind.”

“Wonderful. I will be interviewing them myself, as well as hand-picking my own escorts.” Riddle stood from his throne, tossing out more commands and orders to be followed by his remaining subordinate and the guards that had escorted the former prisoner. “You lot, I want an increase on the perimeter and another search crew to hunt down that wretched boy Ellis! Trey, go and fetch the sword. As for you, Ace Trappola,” Turning to face the knight, he warned, “You have one more chance. Should you fail a second time, there will be no do-overs. Your head will roll and your family shall pay the price for your mistakes.”

For a mere moment, disbelief and anger flashed on Ace’s face. Just as he opened his mouth, you spoke up, “T-Thank you, Your Majesty…! You really are so… merciful.” Better to be a pawn in this game than to be dead.

Riddle turned his attention to you before smiling, such a true and proud smile as he declared, “I have you to thank for this, for saving my kingdom and protecting me. Once we have Ellis and his companions captured, we will have a morning execution for him, with front row seats to the show." As his eyes drifted back to the onlookers, he commanded, "All of you shall speak nothing of what transpired in this room.”

A chorus of Yes, Your Majesty echoed in the chamber. The royal nodded, content for now, sending you one last smile before turning on his heels and walking off to elsewhere with Cater in tow. Leaving you alone with Trey and Ace as all other attendants and soldiers exited the throne room to go fulfill their duties.

Just for a moment, you wanted to talk to Ace alone. There was something about Trey, something about the way he watched you so calmly but there was something in those yellow eyes behind those glasses. Something that made it seem like he knew your secret, like he knew you were not really the king. You weren’t sure if it was your paranoia getting to you and your mind was just playing tricks on you, but you wanted to distance yourself as far away from him as possible. As the former prisoner made his way towards you, you cleared your throat and spoke quietly, but loud enough for Trey to hear. “Can–– M-May I have a word with you, sir Ace…? In private.”

“Sure, I’m free now.” He half joked, giving a bit of a grin which didn’t do much to ease your worries.

Trey stood beside the empty throne, watching as you glanced over at him and made a gesture for him to carry on with the assigned duty of retrieving the legendary sword, as dictated by His Majesty. To which he did, after he carefully observed the way you scurried behind velvet curtains with the knight not too far behind.

When you were finally out of sight with Ace, you noticed his raised eyebrow. Noticing this and the way he tapped his foot, you hesitated, unsure where you were even going with this or what you should do now. “You… You look like you have something to say.”

“Why’d you save me?” He demanded, all that cheerfulness from before gone now as things took a serious turn. Looking you up and down, he crossed his arms and continued, “You could’ve had your cute little hubby chop off my head like all the others before me. So, say it. That’s the reason you wanted to talk alone, isn’t it?”

He got you. Were you that obvious? You’d definitely have to work on being more discreet… Looking around twice to make sure no one was listening in, you huddled with him in a corner by the stained glass windows as you whispered hurriedly, in a panic, “O-Okay, whew, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I’m not really the king, or queen, or whatever role I’m supposed to play here! Well, I guess I am now? Uhhh… h-here! It’s like this: I was put on trial in my homeworld, and as punishment I was banished. When I woke up, I was in Roseheart’s bed and he started talking to me like I was an unfaithful partner! I didn’t understand it, until I realized that it was all exactly like a story I read as a child. My punishment was to become the king that dies by being beheaded by his own wife! I… I got out of that somehow, and now, well…”

Ace was looking at you as if you were crazy, as if you had grown an extra head or something. His arms were crossed and he continued to stare at you. Should you have done that? Could you trust him? Well, he did owe you his life. If things really came down to it, you could have him arrested again and beheaded. Play the victim, call guards, and make up some lie that he attacked you, but you really really didn’t want it to go like that… Finally, after a few seconds, he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle, as if he couldn’t even believe it. “Hold on, let me get this straight: You’re not royalty, but you’re a criminal from another world? Did you hit your head or something?”

You knew it. He wouldn’t believe you after all.

“I mean, they keep saying this Ellis loser came from another world too… So… Maybe your story doesn’t sound too crazy after all.” His scarlet eyes focused on the floor, as if considering something. “You really weren’t lying about knowing the future. And I thought you had gone mad or something! So I’m a hero in the story?”

You could only scratch your arm nervously, a bit regretful for having to crush his sudden burst of excitement. “Ahaha… not exactly? I made that part up…”

Disappointed at the revelation that he wasn’t some badass hero wielding a legendary sword, he scoffed, “Seriously? So why save me then?”

“Look…” You took a deep breath, hiding your fidgeting fingers in your palm as best as you could. “We were both supposed to die. At least my character was mentioned in the story, but you? Y-You weren’t even mentioned at all…! You were just a nameless faceless soldier, someone not even worth mentioning––”

Offended, he snapped back, “Faceless? Rude much!”

You quickly shushed him, internally freaking out at the prospect that you may have been overheard. But when nothing else and no one else stirred, you frowned and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just really nervous… I guess what I’m trying to get at here is… why don’t we both help each other survive?”

“What?” Shaking his head in disbelief. First this person called him someone not even worth mentioning then they ask for his help? Seriously, what was with them?

“T-Think about it…! I’m the second most powerful person in the entire kingdom…! I know what will happen! Kinda…”

“Well, I do want to live just as badly as you do…” It appeared he was still on the fence. Leaning his weight against the wall, he demanded, “But what do you mean you kinda know what will happen? I thought you, for sure, know.”

“Um…” Twiddling your fingers, you hesitantly explained the dilemma, “I did mention we were both supposed to die… And while that part isn’t a lie and the whole you being the destined one to stop Ellis was a lie, the other thing I didn’t lie about was Ellis gathering with his allies to infiltrate the palace and acquire the sword to kill the Jabberwocky. That will actually happen. S-So, since I told everyone that––”

“Let me guess, you told it early?”

Freezing, you gazed up at him and murmured, “H-How did you…?”

He shrugged, “I would’ve done the same thing if I were in your position. That means a higher chance of survival, right? Assuming that the blonde is the good guy and our king Rosehearts is the bad guy of the story. And considering all that, now you have no idea how the story will be affected, right?”

“R-Right…” Wait, now it just looked like you were useless! Immediately interjecting, you added, “But I can still make predictions based on what I know, like how things were originally supposed to play out…!”

“And you are still technically a royal…” Ace placed a finger to his chin, probably thinking about possible outcomes, upsides, and downsides if he agreed to work together. Finally, when his gaze flittered back to you and you stood upright, he questioned, “What if things don’t go how we–– you plan?”

You actually considered this briefly. If everything came crumbling down and all plans failed, there was but one last option to avoid any punishment. “Find Ellis and the White Queen… or is it the White King? I-It doesn’t matter…! The point is, the White Royal is very kind and merciful. If I go to them and explain that I am not really the Red King’s consort, then they’ll spare me…! If you come too and bring the sword to slay the Jabberwocky, that will assure them of our good intentions!”

“Isn’t that just running away? I don’t want to do that. And come on, the Whites? Are you for real? I thought us Reds were bad, but those pristine prissy little killjoys are no fun.”

For a second you wanted to strangle him. What kind of idiot would risk certain death by staying here if everything goes south, instead of fleeing to a good place that would grant you sanctuary? “It’s exactly running away, that’s the point…! The point is to stay alive!”

The redhead tilted his head to the side, his disappointed and serious behavior disappearing as he grinned. “What if I became king?”

Now it was your turn to look at him as if he were the insane one. Was this knight actually the mad hatter that had been driven insane by mercury poisoning?

“I do owe you one for saving my neck back there. And I won’t lie, I’ve dreamed about being king one day. And you, you’re actually way more ruthless than you seem at first. I thought you were a scared little wimp that always cowers behind their little hubby husband.” He mocked. Ouch. He thought you were a wimp…? “But turns out, I was so wrong about you. Sounds like you’re willing to do whatever it takes to live another day. Even turn on your own husband!”

He was whisper yelling, and it was starting to make you anxious that someone would overhear. So you whisper yelled back at a lower volume, “S-Stop that…! You know the truth, he’s not really my husband…”

That smirk made you think that he was going to respond in a louder voice, but thankfully he wasn’t that stupid. Just stupid enough to plan to overthrow the bloody Red King and talk about it in his own palace. But maybe you were stupid too, for talking about such delicate matters in the palace halls. Ace took your hands and performed a mock bow. “No running away, you got it? I’ll take that tiny red punk’s crown and become king, then I’ll keep you as a royal beside me, it’s the least I can do after what you did. We’ll both not only survive, but thrive. What do you say, Your Majesty~?”

[somehow-a-human]

GOOD OMENS SEASON 3 - Speculations/Predictions

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

The GO brainrot is well underway, we’re only 7 months out of season 2 and I dont know how I will cope until season 3! But I have been ravenously consuming all of your lovely meta, fanfiction, and fanart and I have finally decided to add my messy ball of thought yarn to this hellsite!

Warning: this is going to be long and wild, I have no real life people to talk to about Good Omens, and I really need an outlet to gush about these ineffable idiots.

SO! Shall we begin?

S3E1 will open with the great war/the fall. The opening of the previous seasons have been Crowley and Aziraphales earliest meetings, it makes sense season 3 will mirror this. I’m hoping we will get more context of their relationship; had they become closer after S2E1’s ‘before the beginning’ ? Will we see them going to war, will Aziraphale come face to face with Angel!Crowley on the battlefield? Will Aziraphale search for him among the fallen?

Somethings up… with memory. The way I look at it, season 2 was meant to bridge the storyline gap between armageddon and the second coming. It’s there to set us up for another world ending plot and also to give us context for season 3. I think the introduction of the idea that memories can just be manipulated willy-nilly by the big boss, and Gabriels little vacation as Jim serve exactly to show us that this happens. It says: look heaven does this! they were just casually going to do it to the Supreme Archangel, no questions asked. Crowleys memory, in this regard, has been a topic of debate. I think the biggest clue that he indeed has suffered some sort of memory loss is when he’s talking to Jimbriel who says he feels like “an empty house”. Crowley later finishes Jimbriels thought with “I know, looking at where the furniture isn’t.” I think he is downright kind to Jim in the bookshop and chummy with him because they have some sort of kinship, maybe from when they were angels, but more probably because Crowley feels it through the loss of Gabriels memories. Maybe he understands and relates in a way to what he is going through. His not remembering Saraquael or Furfur could just be chalked up to Crowley being an asshole sometimes. I think Crowley has definitely worked on recovering his memory some if this is the case. He remembers Aziraphale though from their time as angels so what specifically might he have forgotten?

Crowley will be a Duke of Hell/Grand Duke of Hell. Not only was Crowley offered the position by Beelzebub, but the blocking in that scene, where Crowley leans across the dual thrones to be in the very center seems to be foreshadowing it. I’ve seen multiple people make this prediction and it makes the most sense to me. What is Crowley gonna do on earth wallow and mope around the bookshop? Look he’s a disaster puppy yes but he’s also in love with the new Supreme Archangel. In the final moments of S2 he is sad, but he also looks determined. He’s angry, but I don’t think he’s angry with Aziraphale. And if there’s one way to keep an eye on Aziraphale and all this second coming nonsense, being a high ranking member of hell seems like a good idea to me.

Is Maggie more than human? Nah I dont think so. Look Maggies got a lot of weird stuff going on sure but I think her most important role in S2 was to be Crowleys mirror (and deliver the gut punch “you never say what you’re really thinking” but we are skipping that). Forget the masonic and biblical imagery associated with her, maybe all the mis-spelling in her note was showing us was that the bubbly blonde is tied to the demon instead of the angel like you might immediately assume? Sure Nina is edgy and closed off, but she’s the one in a toxic relationship, and she doesn’t realize how Maggie feels about her, not until an awning full of water (1941 nazi bomb) is dropped on her head. Maggie is patient and supportive of Nina. She ‘saves the day’ by grabbing her an array of milks from the mini mart in Ep6, and most importantly she says she will wait for Nina. When Crowley goes to get in the bentley after Aziraphale leaves for heaven, he looks first at Nina. She gives him a little ‘goodbye’ wave, then he turns to look at Maggie, she’s asleep at the register, waiting. I don’t think Crowley is angry with Aziraphale, he would’ve driven off if he was. Instead he stands there watching, telling him he’ll be waiting.

1941 Pt. 3 minisode. Okay everybody wants this I know. What happened to the zombies? They definitely listed to ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’ that night right? We know Aziraphale does the apology dance, presumably for 1. nearly getting Crowley shot by nazis, 2. blown up by a bomb, 3. caught “fraternizing” by hell, and 4. nearly making Crowley discorporate him himself with the bullet catch. Maybe they put on some music, and maybe they dance a bit together before Aziraphale remembers himself and says “angels don’t dance” or something to end it. In the Jane Austen ball scene when Aziraphale asks Crowley to dance, barring the subtitles are correct, Crowley replies with “you don’t dance?” not “WE don’t dance”. I think that’s an important distinction, that could point back to this night.

Book of life & Book of Love. Another thing S2 set up as cannon for S3 was the Book of Life. I have no clue what this could mean but I immediately thought of the Doctor Who episode “The Big Bang”. At the end of the episode, The Doctor doesn’t exist because wibbly wobbly timey wimey… stuff. But Amy realizes something isn’t right, that someone is missing. She ends up bringing The Doctor back through her memories, simply because ‘something loved cannot be truly forgotten’. What does this have to do with GO? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Just where my head is at, and I could see someone being erased from the book of life (one of our ineffable idiots for example) being undone in a similar vein. Love is the strongest force in existence, stronger than anything angels, demons, or God themself could understand.

Crowley will make a whale. Well, okay maybe that’s too literal of a statement? To be fair God never says to make a whale, Job says that's what he thinks she means. But look, he’s going to get to talk to God right? I think of the questions God asked Job. Did you set the constellations in the sky? Crowley did, S2E1 we watched him do it. Do you know the rules of the heavens? Crowley does, we even see him explain (gr)mavity to Jimbriel. Can you send lightning and get it to report back? Crowley can, we saw it after he got in his little argument with Aziraphale. Did you teach the ostrich to run? Maybe? Is this an allegory for telling Gabriel to go to Alpha Centauri? Or the peacocks to fly? Beez? Miss Sandwich? look its God okay not everything is going to be straightforward. Anyway, I think it’s clear our demon will get to ask his questions, he might not get answers, but he will get to ask the questions.

It begins as it will end, with a garden. Not the garden of Eden this time, but perhaps a garden at a cottage in The South Downs. Or.. maybe the Garden of Eden. If you've not read the short story "In The End" by Mr Neil Gaiman himself, please do, it's only a page long and it's lovely. I bought an extra copy of Fragile Things just so I could cut it out and glue it in the last page of my copy of Good Omens. Anyway, it's a brief but beautiful imagining of the last book of The Bible, in which God gives the Garden of Eden to humanity. I love the idea that human souls might return to Eden after their time on Earth. I also (and I know I'm in the vast minority) love the idea of Crowley and Aziraphale choosing to somehow embrace mortality to fully enjoy life on Earth with each other, and therefore themselves being able to return to the Garden of Eden with each other someday.

WELL! Did anyone actually read this? If you did, you’re insane just like me and I love you for it! Please let me know your ideas!

[toriangeli]

I was writing a longer post with my takes on all the 18th century costumes in the trailer, but this section about what we see in the theatre with Armand watching Lestat perform got long, so I'm posting it separately.

If you thought you remembered Lestat mentioning in TVL how Lelio doesn’t wear a mask, you’re not imagining things.  He doesn’t.  Moreover, there’s something very distinctive about the pattern on his costume.  Those triangles on his sleeves?

What’s more, the mask he’s wearing is a straight-up replica of this:

The mask itself will change between eras and theatres, but for this character, it always has that boil on the forehead. That triangle pattern and the mask together are for the character of Arlecchino/Harlequin.  Below is one traditional (VERY pre-18th century) look for Lelio:

Arlecchino is one of the goofier Commedia characters, being an aged, ugly, and supposedly stupid valet with a kind of trickster persona.  The triangle pattern is meant to mimic patchwork, and is also seen on Arlecchino’s lover, the lady’s maid Columbina.

But we know Lestat played Lelio in Paris, not Arlecchino.  It would be extremely weird for him to switch.  I don’t even think the guy who usually plays Arlecchino would want to give him up for the night if he could help it, since that’s like…the classic Commedia character, and kind of the opposite of Lestat's usual.

I think what we’re seeing could be Lestat’s particular genius with Commedia, where he could play this relatively unfunny young lover but still be very funny with it.  I think Lelio is disguising himself as Arlecchino for some kind of lover’s shenanigans.  Disguise hijinks are all over the place in the fiction of this era, a comedy trope that was really made popular by Commedia.  If you’ll note, Arlecchino in the picture wears a mask fixed to his face, not on a wand, leaving both his hands free because the mask is worn constantly.  I think Lestat may be using this style of mask so he can bring the mask away from his face when he’s speaking as Lelio and not Arlecchino.

Why is that interesting?

Because this isn’t how it goes the one time Lestat is onstage in Paris as a vampire, at all.  In that particular mental breakdown, Lestat doesn’t bother with any character at all, even if he's dressed for Lelio.  He just starts doing wild shit.  But Armand is at this performance.  I could see Armand stalking him at the meltdown performance, as someone from the Children of Satan was there to witness it, but nobody from the CoS indulges in these human frivolities and they wouldn't just happen to be there and notice Lestat.  It was their entire beef with Lestat in the first place, that he was acting like a human and not like a demon.  The CoS did stalk Lestat, but only after he became a vampire—that we know of.

My theory: the CoS noticed Magnus noticing Lestat and Armand wondered what was up.  We know they were keeping close tabs on Magnus.  Moreover, Armand…his costume is hard to see because of the Where’s Waldo nature of the pic below, but he’s dressed simply and in black, in what does not look anything like 18th century Western European clothing.  His hair is disheveled, too.  He doesn’t blend in at all, but he wouldn’t blend in anyway when every single other face in that crowd is lily-white.  I think, then, that he’s wearing something non-Western that I’m not familiar with.  Judging by what looks to be a split, flowing sleeve, it could be Russian or Arab or from any number of countries Armand would believably be a native of.  He may have grabbed clothing that would let him blend in simply as a brown man in the 18th century who isn’t trying to look French.  Any actual fashion historians who know non-Western clothing would need to be on this one.

I may not be able to identify what Armand is wearing here, but everyone else is looking 1780’s French to me.  Reenactors I’ve known have joked about how in every century, the 80’s has massive hair.  We’ve also just begun the transition away from the conical torso/bell-shaped skirts in 1770’s women’s fashion and toward the empire waist that will dominate until roughly 1820.  1780’s gowns have a wonderful freeness to them.

Anyway, either Armand was stalking Lestat before he was turned, or Lestat did more than one performance as a vampire. I think the former is more believable, personally, since we know they were keeping an eye on Magnus.

[beebopboom]

Greasy Johnson: a Red Herring?

This is a season 3 speculation post - you know not what to do with them

ok so i’ve fallen down a Greasy Johnson is Jesus rabbit hole and I love it - seems pretty plausible (here are some of of the pieces that sent me down here - Jesus 2.0 rides a Motorcycle Scooter , Greasy Johnson is Jesus, and Greasy Johnson in the book)

To summarize Greasy Johnson is the third baby in the swap who grows up near Adam and has kind of a “rival gang” who in the book is used as the reason why Adam finds a fight between two rivals ridiculous

plus you have the working title for the talked about sequel 668: The Neighbor of the Beast which more than likely is Greasy Johnson house and his thing with tropical fish - just a lot of things pointing to him being Jesus

But!! I want to talk about something a little different (and I can recognize this is probably just my want for Warlock to come back as someone important) because it was a choice not have him mentioned after the swap in the show.

What if Warlock is Jesus? Now just hear me out

If i’m following the swap right Warlock is our baby draped in blue and is the Young’s actual son

Now going back a bit I believe Heaven has been testing out aspects of what is said to happen in the Second Coming for a while now maybe as far back as 1827 but probably got close to right around 1941 and was just waiting for Hell to have the Antichrist and trigger Armageddon

and yknow for being an order of satanic nuns they sure do have a lot of Jesus on the Cross hanging around. why? - it’s almost like the were also meant to deliver him as well

So when Hell pulled their final card - so did Heaven

Now who was not meant to be there that night and messed everything up - the Young’s and their baby, Warlock - it’s almost like it was a divine intervention. And like I said earlier Warlock is our baby draped in blue (like Jesus) and our Ace card (ace up their sleeve anyone?)

Greasy Johnson was apart of Hells plan and set up - Warlock was not

also he has traveled the world because of the Dowling’s work before being tempted by Hastur which he denies

and the whales and dinosaurs we see in his room - you got your mothers humor don’t you?

and he is the only one who has to make a return to the UK - the plane in the opening sequence

what about Greasy Johnson and the neighbor of the beast though? that seems to be a pretty great fit and I agree - he is going to be the reason the swap is discovered and they all get together again - whatever that reason may be (*cough*dying*cough*)

and not mentioning him further in season one allows for him to come in as a completely new character and story that we get to follow around with points in his life pointing towards him being Jesus - as a distraction for the characters and for us

but where does Aziraphale come into this and why does the Metatron need an angel of his talents? - Heaven has also lost its card(baby), the trick worked a little too well and there are still two children to choose between, if they could find them - and Aziraphale, who has shown is apt at finding and identifying the Antichrist and knows Earth better than any angel, is just the being for the job

I recognize this is a lot of speculation and this is just kinda just a crack theory but it wouldn’t leave me alone so I’d thought I’d share

and mostly I think it’d be funny that in thinking they were raising the Antichrist they were actually raising Jesus Christ

(but also it would fit a lot of the headcannons floating around. Jesus being a right terror? check. Them raising Jesus? already did that. Trans!Jesus? remember all those trans!warlock headcannons. Jesus having a mentor relationship with Crowley? the demon raised Warlock. Going out for a drink? Warlock would an adult now by the time season 3 comes out and they keep following that the events in the show are happening at the present time it comes out trend - just on and on)

[girl-named-matty]

Why I don't like Solomon Sallow

(I worked this out on a google docs first and that has some screenshots i couldn't fit into here so after this post imma post some screenshots of the document) SO HI EVERYONE! You'll probably remember what I posted yesterday about dissecting the scene where you first go to Feldcroft in order to find out just a few things about Solomon upfront, so here it is! Buckle up because it is a lot.

Why I dislike Solomon Sallow, by me. 💕 Based on the scene where you first arrive in Feldcroft to visit Anne with Sebastian. 

So I’ve just finished writing this scene for my fanfiction and going over the dialogue so carefully has made me realize just how much from this scene only we can see why Solomon was just a horrible person in general–if it wasn’t already obvious by now. I’ve been wanting to dissect scenes from the game for quite a while now and I think this presents a perfect opportunity to do it! 

First, we’re going to start out when MC first arrives in Feldcroft and Sebastian is standing up on a ‘watch-tower’ to keep an eye on things since Feldcroft hasn’t been safe with all the goblins around. And then he states this: 

Now, the goblins being around Rookwood castle isn’t Solomon’s fault. But being a resident of Feldcroft and being an ex-Auror, one would assume that he’d at least check it out, correct? Nope. Because Sebastian goes on to say this as well:

Now at the time, everyone thinks that Anne has been cursed by Goblins and not Rookwood, even Solomon does. But even with Solomon thinking the goblins had cursed Anne, he refuses to confront them even though we know he could since two fifteen-year-olds (Sebastian and MC) could easily defend themselves against said goblins. 

And this leads us into our second segment. 

We are now at the Sallow residence in Feldcroft and Sebastian walks in first, going to surprise Anne. Everything is happy and Anne is extremely excited to see Sebastian as shown in this picture: 

Sebastian then pulls out a Shrivelfig, something he picked up in Hogsmeade for Anne.

Now from that screenshot alone, we can’t really tell if Anne just really likes shrivelfigs or if she thought it could be the cure–but from what happens next I can safely assume she may have thought it was some form of cure. 

Because as shown right here–SOLOMON JUST YOINKS IT OUT OF SEBASTIAN’S HAND. 

Solomon doesn’t give Anne and Sebastian even a moment to have a proper reunion, he doesn’t say hello to Sebastian, or greet MC, he doesn’t wait until MC is out of the house to have a conversation with Sebastian like a civil person would if a guest were around. In fact, he doesn’t do anything civilly, he starts an argument with Sebastian RIGHT there and then over a shrivelfig! 

He looks at Sebastian and tells him that Shrivelfigs cannot reverse the curse. But we have no background to if they’ve ever even tried to do something with a shrivelfig to even help ease Anne’s pain. Since Hogwarts Legacy came out, the wiki for shrivelfigs has stated that they cannot reverse curses but it does have “medicinal properties' which could’ve at least perhaps eased Anne’s pain for even just a bit. 

But what is even worse is that when he says “Nothing can” he looks DIRECTLY AT ANNE!

Why would he look directly at Anne while saying nothing can reverse the curse she has? Probably because he wants her to believe that she cannot be cured. He’s tired of trying to find one and so if Anne isn’t complaining about not having a cure, he doesn’t have to hear about it from anyone other than Sebastian. I’ve had conversations with friends about this and have a few theories about this situation but that’s for a different post. Then Solomon proceeds to destroy the Shrivelfig right in front of Sebastian and Anne.

Now, this is possibly a bit of a stretch but Sebastian got that for Anne and not Solomon so he’s basically just destroying a gift that Sebastian took the time to get for her right in front of the both of them which is a pretty crappy move in my opinion.

Then he turns to leave, yet again not even taking the time to say hello to Sebastian or MC and of course Sebastian, feeling like he needs to defend himself, says that they haven’t tried everything–which is technically correct. But then of course, instead of Solomon civilly telling Sebastian that there is no cure–It turns into another shouting match.

He gets up in Sebastian’s face and shouts at him, right in front of Anne and MC. Wow Solomon! I wonder why your nephew hates you. 

Yes I understand that Sebastian is a stubborn boy but at this point in time, he’s a fifteen-year-old boy who is desperate to cure his twin sister! Before this, all he had was Anne and Ominis because his parents were dead and his uncle truly never cared. Let’s say MC had never come into the mix and Anne died, all he would have was Ominis. This is an act of Sebastian trying to preserve the last of the people who love him. 

And then, unfortunately, the effects of the curse start to pain Anne.

The first thing they do is look over but instead of Solomon immediately going to Anne’s aid, he has to look at Sebastian and blame him for Anne’s pain.

Then he goes over to Anne to aid her and Sebastian tries to apologize for the argument that Solomon started.

Then instead of letting Sebastian apologize, Solomon tells Sebastian to leave.

He doesn’t even give Sebastian a chance. He’s fed up and doesn’t even want his nephew around. My whole guess is that he’s truly never wanted Sebastian around and this was all just an excuse. This leads us into our third segment.  Sebastian storms out of the house and tells MC that he needs a moment alone if they are alright with it. Then MC will go talk to Solomon and Anne and for this, we’re going to speak to Solomon first.  You go up and you greet Solomon, everything seems normal. Solomon apologizes for Sebastian’s behavior claiming “he doesn’t know when to stop” which is true in some cases.

When he says this, this is not a fact, and we have to keep that in mind. When he says nothing can be done for her–that’s his opinion because HE doesn’t think anything can be done for her. Which opinions are okay to have, but using your opinions to discourage others is usually not the way you want to use them. 

Now after this, MC can say two different things. If you pick the option “Surely there’s something” your MC will say “It could be that you’ve not yet discovered a cure.” so in turn, slightly disagreeing with Solomon’s statement that nothing can be done but not downright disagreeing with him out loud. 

But again, instead of Solomon holding a civil conversation, he starts to accuse MC of thinking they know more than the healers at St. Mungo's. 

Now did MC ever claim to know better than the trained healers? NO! So why is he assuming this? It’s because he’s incapable of having a civil conversation regarding the curse if anyone disagrees with him in the slightest. We see this several more times throughout the game! 

After this, your MC will say “Perhaps the healers don't know everything, sir.” which is in turn–correct because as skilled as they are, no one knows everything. And keep in mind that MC is calling Solomon “sir” being respectful while Solomon is not, he is shouting and spouting off. MC then follows up with “Sebastian is single-mindedly focused on finding a way to help his sister. If there is a cure, he will find it.”  Then Solomon responds with this.

Yet again going back to the fact that he could easily confront the goblins but he never does. You have a dialogue choice here but both of them really just lead back to this statement.

He claims giving Anne hope is cruel because he doesn’t want her to have hope that she can be cured but in my opinion—not giving her hope is just as cruel! Imagine telling your niece, the child you are supposed to be raising, that there is nothing that could possibly cure her and so she is stuck feeling immense pain for the rest of her possibly short life even when there are still chances of finding a cure! I’m not sure about anyone else, but that sounds pretty cruel to me. I can see why you’d want to keep her comfortable but its still keeping her comfortable for her impending death when there’s still a chance she can be cured. 

Then, as if he’s been acting like a good guardian, Solomon plays this card.

He says he knows what's best for both of the twins–which is clearly not true seeing how he treats Sebastian. Then he goes to say “my stubborn brother’s children” which always makes me think that Solomon had something against his brother–a rivalry possibly–that led them into fighting a lot and so Solomon takes his anger for his late brother out onto his brother's children. Which, keep in mind, is never okay. 

Sebastian is a target of Solomon’s constant attacks because Sebastian acts like his dad. And that’s just the nature of a young boy to act like their father. Also, to Solomon, are you sure your brother was the stubborn one here…?

Solomon follows up with this and then this.

THIS ^^ is probably the only sensible thing he says during the entire game. Yes, Sebastian doesn’t know when to stop sometimes but I wonder why he doesn’t stop. It’s because he’s constantly being verbally attacked and Anne is the LAST bit of family he has that actually loves him! Of course he isn’t going to stop–he’s trying to save the life of his twin sister! 

Our fourth segment leads us into our conversation with Anne–which gives us more perspective since we get all three perspectives of the Sallows who were involved in this. 

MC enters the house and apologizes for earlier and Anne–being the sweet girl she is, reassures MC that it is not their fault for the pain she has.

It’s clear she’s struggling but she always makes sure to make it clear that it is not anyone’s fault when her pain comes and goes. Meaning Solomon was wrong by blaming Sebastian for Anne’s pain during the argument. 

MC and Anne go on to talk about Anne being at Hogwarts and how she misses it but she says she wouldn’t mind being in Feldcroft all the time if it weren’t so dreary. That meaning, the goblin attacks and of course, her uncle and brother fighting all the time.

She says this but the way she words it makes me think a few things. She mentions that Solomon is fighting with Sebastian whenever he’s home. Which this could be a stretch but that makes me believe that Solomon starts the majority of the arguments that they are in. As seen earlier, Solomon started this one as well instead of letting the scene play out before he jumped in. Not only does Solomon starting arguments affect Sebastian, it affects Anne too! 

MC will then say “Sebastian mentioned something about your uncle being an ex-Auror but refusing to go after Ranrok’s Loyalists'' and while I’m not an uncle, I am an aunt and if someone cursed my niece especially while she was in my care–I’d be burning down the goblin encampment while demanding answers. Then MC says “I must say, I wasn’t prepared for him to be as angry as he was''

Then Anne goes to defend her uncle, which is understandable.

BUUUUUT then we get into Anne now thinking she cannot be cured, saying that she can feel it.

Now I am not about to argue with the victim of the curse for saying she doesn’t think she can be cured–after all, she is the one suffering. But from what we saw with Solomon looking directly at Anne while saying “nothing can” referring to nothing can cure her, how much of her disbelief about her being able to be cured is actually coming from Solomon that she has just accepted and isn’t actually her own belief? 

After that, you finish up your conversation with Anne and go to find Sebastian which leads us into our fifth and final segment.

Now, Sebastian does the same thing Solomon does and apologizes to MC for the way he acted–which means they are sort of the two sides to the same coin when it comes to how others perceive them. Both feel like they need to apologize for something that the other has done–even when only one of them is actually in the wrong. You have two options for dialogue here. You can either choose “He was out of line” which will lead you into saying “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting him to be so angry.” or you can chose “He’s trying to do what’s right” which I honestly have no idea what that option will lead you to say because I’ve never chosen it and I went through nine different playthroughs I found on YouTube and nobody chose that option so I assume people agree that he was out of line. (If anyone could tell me what MC says if you chose the option “He’s trying to do what’s right”, that’d be lovely) 

SO if you chose “He was out of line” which leads to you saying the part that you weren’t expecting him to be so angry, Sebastian will reply "He's always angry. He's been angry since my parents died." and "After Anne was hurt, he only grew worse. It's as though he blames me somehow. Always calling me 'my father's son' as if its an insult." (I apologize for the lack of screenshots here, I wrote this out on a google docs sheet before this and tumblr only allows me to have 30 pictures in post so screenshots of the doc are coming soon!) This brings us back to what I said earlier about Solomon deflecting his angry feelings from his late brother onto the twins and he most likely targets Sebastian the most because Sebastian acts the most like his father. Sebastian will go on to say “I’m the one trying to help her. He’s simply given up.” to which MC will reply, “Both Anne and your uncle seem to be genuinely convinced that nothing more can be done for her.” 

To that, Sebastian replies that he refuses to believe that, that Anne’s pain is more than physical, that it’s changed her entirely, and that he misses her and is going to get his sister back. 

After that you’ll go and explore the plateau that Anne was cursed on yada yada and you’ll get a bit of background on that.

So–what's the conclusion of all of this? 

Solomon is just a horrible person. 

He immediately starts an argument with Sebastian in front of Anne and MC over a shrivelfig, no less. And I don’t know about you but it's always so awkward when a friend gets yelled at by their parents/guardian and it's pretty embarrassing when it happens to you and you're the one being shouted at. 

He’s either subconsciously or consciously trying to convince Anne that she cannot be cured by telling her “Nothing can” and by always screaming at Sebastian that nothing can cure her. When he shouts, it's scary, so obviously Anne isn’t going to want to speak up for herself and get screamed at. 

He verbally abuses Sebastian–and probably Anne in the past as well. Now I’ve seen theories that there is possible physical abuse which I have also had theories about but it’s never been proven so I’m not gonna accuse him of such a crime BUT there is obvious evidence that he has no problem verbally abusing Sebastian at all by screaming, shouting and yada yada. 

He’s taking his anger that he has for his late brother out on Sebastian and Anne, which is never okay. Children are never responsible for the sins of the father–and we don’t even know if their father did do anything wrong! From how Solomon acts, he could’ve totally been in the wrong for whatever arguments they had. And Sebastian is a target because he acts the most like his father. 

And although this isn’t in this scene, Solomon has no problem attacking two 15/16-year-olds (who are still legally children) in the catacomb.  So the conclusion is that Solomon Sallow is not a good person and he has no problem showing it. And that you can see so much just from this one scene that probably lasts only a few minutes. 

I rest my case. 

Taglist: @boomingsmile @biographyofanadult @kit-kair @operation-pez @morelikeravenbore @findingtruenorth23 @follesexual @epicsweetness712 @mcyt-trash-can @sallowgauntsupremacy @kukukha-sanctuary

[the-unaligned]

Bravern episode 8 spoilers

EP 8 Analysis

This is going to be super incoherent and is mostly just going to be me rambling but idc, I need to post this somewhere so it’s not ruminating in my head until I assault some random human with word vomit

So this is mostly going to be focus on episode 8 but I will touch back on previous episodes for references.

Anyways Episode 8 basically just confirmed the “Bravern is Smith” theory and I am so hype

What is the “Bravern is Smith” theory?

So the Bravern is Smith theory is a theory that.. well.. Bravern and Lewis Smith are the same person.

I’m not sure who started it but (I think) it started when the opening showed for the first time and we got to the scene of Smith’s arm becoming Bravern’s. From there it spiraled, more and more evidence pointing towards it, such as: Bravern knowing A LOT about Smith, Bravern making a lot of human pop culture references and speaking English interchangeably with Japanese (Smith does this too), Bravern being a super robot (Smith is a massive Super robot nerd) and a ton of other things

Episode 8:

Now we get into why I’m finally making a post about this, I’ve been following along with this theory since episode 2 and have been taking my notes on it but I never bothered posting about it anywhere

Why now?

Because episode 8 might’ve just confirmed it.

Let’s start with the opening:

So this right here is the catalyst that started this all, Smith’s arm turning into Bravern’s. Now, we knew all that, but the one thing we never knew until now was “who tf is glowy bitch”

Well,

I think is Knuth

“But why her? She looks nothing like the silhouette”

Look here, she has plates of armor that highly resemble two pairs of wings. Who else has two pairs of wings? The silhouette. Same placement and everything. I think the silhouette is meant to be vague, as to not tip the viewer off right away that the silhouette is a deathdrive.

We’ll come back to this later, I need to talk about Bravern’s lines during this episode.

I’m not entirely sure how to explain it but this line will be important later, for now it’s just more Super Robot inspirational speech

Right here is the important line, the title of the episode (which is what tipped me and a lot of other people off to Smith dying) and the last thing Bravern says to him. Now normally when entering a battlefield, you’d tell your comrade “Good luck”, “Until we meet again” makes it seem like someone will die, this is a line usually used when you’re not sure when you’ll see someone again. Bravern used this because he knew what was going to happen to Smith, and either he can’t stop it, or he doesn’t want to.

Bravern knows because he has gone through this before, as Smith.

That is likely why he told Smith to “save as many people as he can”, likely because when he went through this, a lot of people died

(This ties into my own branch of the theory where Bravern has already gone through all of this before and went back in time to change the outcome)

Now during the fight, Bravern isn’t really focused, he’s taking hits he’d normally be able to dodge and isn’t really rushing like he usually does. I think it’s because he’s trying to stall, trying to keep Isami away from Knuth and Smith so their fight can happen, either that or he’s distracted due to knowing what’s happening not that far away (or it could be both)

Before we get to this next part I wanna point out a quote I noticed during the episode from Knuth. I can’t find it just by scrolling and I’d rewatch the full episode to find it but Tumblr is lagging like hell and burning through my battery so I can’t

At one point Knuth mentioned something about fusing with Smith, this might mean that Knuth’s body ends up being the base for Bravern, but im still not 100% sure about that, just thought I’d add that. If she is the base and Bravern did in fact go back in time, this would make sense as Knuth had mentioned that she had gone back in time a few times

Now we get to focus on the important part of the episode, Smith’s death. Let’s just start listing off things to pay attention to.

(I reached the photo limit oops)

- Smith is humming his own theme song as he charges Knuth, Bravern sings his own theme song and blasts it whenever he fights

- He straight up says “Brave Slash” as he strikes Knuth

-Smith talks DIRECTLY INTO ISAMI’S MIND and says the following quote: “Isami. Isami. Brave. Brave… Bang.” And we all know why that’s important, the title of the show is literally “Bang Brave Bang Bravern”

There are still some questions, like “how was Smith able to use telepathy?” “How exactly is Bravern created?” “Is Bravern truly a fusion between Smith and Knuth?”

I know this probably makes zero sense but I need to get this out somewhere

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk (holy shit it’s so laggy)

Edit: I forgot to mention it but the foreshadowing for Smith’s death was so obvious, legit in his introduction Isami legit goes “You’re dead, the dead don’t talk” so uhh called it lmao

[anthurak]

So this is almost certainly going to be an unpopular opinion for some, but for a long time now I’ve been feeling that the RWBY fandom puts just a bit TOO much stock in the various fairytale/mythology/literary allusions of the characters when it comes to theory-crafting. It feels like people find out that a certain character A is an allusion to another character B from an already completed story and go ‘Well that must mean that Character A is going to turn out just like Character B!’

Which of course completely ignores that these are allusions and references. Ruby Rose might have strong parallels and similarities to Little Red Riding Hood, but that does not mean she IS literally Little Red Riding Hood. Just as Weiss Schnee is NOT literally Snow White, Penny Polendina is NOT literally Pinocchio and Oscar Pine is NOT literally the Little Prince. Ultimately, whatever allusion a character might have comes SECOND to who they are as an actual character, NOT the other way around.

Whatever allusions a character has might inform what could happen to them, but that should still be treated as secondary to what we actually see them do in the show.

For example, I see a LOT of ships in the RWBY fandom that people seem to largely use interpretations of the characters’ allusions as ‘evidence’, rather than what the characters actually DO in the actual SHOW. Like has anyone noticed that discussions of ships like Bumbleby, Renora, Nuts and Dolts or White Rose have historically not involved much interpretation (relatively speaking anyway) of the potential ‘complimentary allusions’ of these characters? Because there is no NEED to, because all the evidence for these ships is right fucking there on the screen. Meanwhile we’ve got ships (and I am NOT naming names) that people will swear up and down are TOTALLY going to be canon for really-realsies where most or even all of the ‘evidence’ consists of people effectively playing some kind of matching game with their allusions. Or saying nothing more than ‘Character A kinda-sorta resembles the love-interest of Character B’s allusion’.

And ALL of this doesn’t even take into account the biggest factor which I keep getting the impression that WAY too many RWBY fans still having gotten the memo on:

The fact that RWBY literally NEVER plays its allusions STRAIGHT.

All the way from minute one when we saw an allusion to Little Red Riding Hood cutting down a horde of Big Bad Wolves, RWBY has ALWAYS been subverting, inverting, flipping, twisting and otherwise playing it’s allusions, references and archetypes literally ANY way but actually STRAIGHT.

Little Red Riding Hood hunts the Big Bad Wolf. Snow White is equal parts Princess AND Knight in Shining Armor. Cinderella is a tragic villain origin story. Pinocchio was always a real girl. The Great and Powerful Wizard Oz is far more powerful than anyone thought, but is ALSO far more of a fraud than anyone thought.

So when people use these characters’ allusions as some kind of rigid road-map to theorize what might happen to them, it’s not just that this detracts from their identity as their own characters; the story itself isn’t even using that map!

I mean speaking personally, that’s what has always made RWBY theory-crafting FUN. Trying to guess how the writers might twist and flip the allusions they’re using. But that also means that the allusions of the various characters simply DON’T actually provide ANY kind of accurate ‘road-map’ for where they might be going. Instead, the best we can do is use what the actual show has actually shown us to get any kind of idea where the characters are headed.

Ultimately, I feel like too often I see that when people are making theories about RWBY characters, they are treating them more like the characters they are based on, instead of the characters they actually ARE.

[netisinfin8ty]

HUGE ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE SPOILERS BELOW

Ok, I know a lot of people discussing about Across the Spider-Verse tend to focus on that ending (because WHAT AN ending) but I’m honestly more focused on a certain Hispanic vampire spidery boi because I’ve got a wild-ass theory concerning him. check this out ready 

THESE TWO AREN’T THE SAME PERSON

All the evidence I have is the trilogy's subtext and the two’s vibes but I SWEAR THIS COULD BE PROVEN CORRECT IN BEYOND THE SPIDER-VERSE

While both ITSPV!Miguel and ATSP!Miguel tend to get frustrated pretty quickly, some things about their personality don’t quite match up. ITSPV!Miguel seems a lot more snarky and comical (”I know what It looks like...” “Oh, here we go...” “The Multiverse didn’t collapse!” “Oh, cool!” “Great story.”) but meanwhile, ATSP!Miguel is a lot more deadpan and aloof - even Peter B. calls him out (”You know, you’re the only Spider-Man I know who isn’t funny; we’re supposed to be funny!). ITSPV!Miguel is surprisingly a lot calmer when concerning the multiverse’s structural integrity, but ATSP!Miguel is a lot more controlling and cold; he also seems like he could lose his shit at any second compared to ITSPV!Miguel. He even says it himself (”...all this time, I have been the only one HOLDING IT ALL TOGETHER!”) ATSP!Miguel is completely ruthless and can be a total monster at some points, but ITSPV!Miguel doesn’t seem to have that same fury

also, correct me if I’m wrong; ATSP!Miguel says that one of the first times he hopped dimensions was when he was trying to find the one where he was finally happy but we know that ain’t the case because of ITSPV!Miguel

maybe that part didn’t happen

BUT GOING BACK TO THE THEORY I also believe this twist is plausible due to these movies underlying theme of two versions of the same person. we got Peter B. and Peter and their two retrospective Mary Janes, and now Miles and his Earth-42 counterpart (which can I just add was that MCU!Prowler Donald Glover Miles interaction foreshadowing in a way? I'm gonna say yes), so it wouldn’t be that out of left field if in Beyond we got two Miguels

but the only thing left here is how this ties into the third Miguel; the one who was killed. was ITSPV!Miguel and that Miguel the same person? ATSP!Miguel didn’t imply that he was also Spider-Man but he didn’t deny it either. how did he convince the rest of the Spider-Society that he was the ‘real’ Miguel? are they all different people? how has ITSPV!Miguel not noticed a second version of himself by now? did ATSP!Miguel ACTUALLY kill him and straight-up fibbed about someone else killing him? he does seem like having the vibe of a man keeping a lot of shit in the closet; look at how he says that any universe that disrupts ‘canon’ dies and look at Earth-42, 1610 and 65. how does Hobie relate to all of this??? so many questions...

The obvious answer to this riddle is obvious; ITSPV!Miguel just got a redesign for ATSP. That post-credits scene started production late into ITSP’s release date so they just used the regular Spider-Man model and dropped 2099′s day of the dead-ass-luchador-ass textures on it. I mean look at Lyla’s lip sync they weren’t even trying

BUT STILL. If they can make the fucking BAGEL DUDE into a cosmic-level threat, if they can ret-con a one-off background gag into Mile’s nemesis, I swear the production staff could be mad enough to say ‘these two aren’t the same guy’ as well

All i’m saying is, it’s gonna be a tedious next 9 months 

[good-beanswrites]

I talked about my Milgram actors theory earlier, but @amugoffandoms reminded me I also have a little emotional support au version of the idea I’ve been meaning to chat about! It's actually not a typical actors au -- the canon events still happen, but are staged by the in-universe Milgram organization.

(Edit, now with a fic!)

Just like in canon, the organization has a mysterious/supernatural ability to identify and track down ten specific people at their breaking point. In this au, though, it's ten people who could have committed crimes soon. They discreetly reach out to these individuals, requesting for them to be actors in their experiment. They say there will be someone playing a prison guard, and explain the premise. With a bit of coaxing or bribing for a few, they all accept.

Milgram ensures these newfound “prisoners” don’t need to change many details about their lives – the less lies to keep track of, the easier it would be for these ordinary people to pull off such an extensive con. 

Some of them are exactly as they were right before their murders, such as Yuno, Fuuta, Muu, and Kotoko. Haruka, his sister, and Amane did go through traumatic abuse, but it was Milgram that pulled them out of the situation before they resorted to murder. Mikoto is/has been aware of his alters for a while at this point.

Some of the others are taken from their lives after things that could have ended fatally turned out alright: Shidou’s family got into an accident but all recovered; Milgram picked up on his private realization that he would have done anything to save them, were the damage worse. Mahiru and Kazui’s partners attempted/considered suicide, but did not succeed. In Mahiru’s case, they reached a friendship despite breaking up. I still don’t know enough about Kazui’s wife, but I like to think they’re pretty separate now. 

The ten prisoners weren’t allowed to meet beforehand, but they individually collaborated with the Milgram team to write the lyrics for their t1 songs and film their videos. I'll mention more about the other actors later, but the filming process is a lot of fun. Though the topics confront them with some unsavory thoughts about themselves, it's a good time singing and acting and getting the giggles on set and everything.

Milgram pulls Es from wherever they were for whatever reason, wipes their memory, and drops them into the prison. The prisoners are unaware that Es didn't come willingly, as they all did.

Once the experiment begins, everyone’s interactions that we’ve seen to this point are genuine. The prisoners get to know each other, while they come to terms with the fact that themselves and these others all had murderous potential. Their personalities, behaviors, and stories from their lives are all true. In the interrogations, they speak honestly to Es about their values and choices. The only faked things are the actual references to the murders, and the “invisible force” that they pretend to hit when acting in violence. Mikoto is instructed to use a bit of violence during his interrogation, though Kotoko sneaking in wasn’t scripted – she genuinely had her concerns about his character and acted accordingly. 

While Es sleeps after T1, the prisoners are treated the same regardless of verdict. They provide the team with their genuine thoughts about one another to decide what the staged incidents should be. Kotoko doesn’t actually hate the guilty prisoners, but she recognizes she would’ve wanted to take justice into her own hands in a real situation. Amane is very upset but Es' verdict, but the team helps her dramatize her transformation a bit. Haruka and Muu genuinely get that close. Yuno does wish to be left alone.

They film their second trial videos, now allowed to be around the other prisoners as they do so. They also invite people in their life to come in and play their victims. Yes, it’s just as awkward as it sounds. This is where the prisoners do their real reflection – they think about Es’ verdict for them and what they could have been capable of. There’s a bit of relief from both parties knowing that things will turn out alright now that Milgram intervened (ironic, I know, but this is my fix-it hehe). Shidou’s kids are excited to be filmed, not really understanding the context. Haruka once again works with an actor playing his younger self, a bit put off by how similar they look and the memories he bring back. Haruka’s mother, Rei, and Amane’s cult members (if they appear) are some of the only characters played by strangers, though they do look strikingly similar to the real people. Fuuta’s victim is also played by a stranger. Things are still tense with Hinako, but she agrees to appear. 

The team helps the prisoners fake injuries with lots bandages and slings. Then they wake Es. The same is repeated for T2/T3.

Now, I’ve played out a few different paths depending on my angst tolerance at the moment – sometimes Es goes through with the third trial verdicts and is forced to watch the executions (not realizing they're cleverly staged). Sometimes they refuse, finding a way to stop the whole experiment. Sometimes the prisoners realize that Es has been an unwilling participant, and bring the experiment to a stop themselves. Sometimes someone jams a wrench in the mv machine and try to blow it up in order for everything to end before final verdicts.

Because of limited details, the ending can play out however one wants. But my go-to is that Es wake up sometime afterwards in a clean facility filled with scientists. They’re brought to an interrogation room – this time on the other side of the questioning. They’re asked about their motivations, actions, emotions, choices, verdicts (or the reason they rebelled at the very end). A few doors down, the prisoners are being asked similar questions of self-reflection and morality. 

Es demands to know what’s going on, while the team tries to assure them that the prisoners are all fine. Es doesn’t buy this, though. They know what kind of mind games the experiment has tried to pull, and can’t tell what’s truth or lie anymore. Things get heated as they demand to see the prisoners. Meanwhile, the prisoners are getting worked up asking about Es. If they haven't already, this is when they learn that Es was an actual prisoner there the whole time. The last time they were together the situation was very intense, and they’re all incredibly worried about them. 

In the end, they manage to break out of their rooms and reunite in the middle of the facility, and Es is shocked. All ten are alive and well, even those they may have seen die. No eyes or limbs are missing. They’re all laughing and getting along, no matter what kinds of fights they got into between trials. Even more shocking is when the victims join them later – also all alive and happy. 

The ending has a bit of unavoidable angst since Es would be pretty fucked up by the whole experiment. They’d struggle with trust issues and knowing what’s reality. However, it’s still an overwhelmingly happy ending. They get to befriend the prisoners and their families outside of the painful context they met in. Regretting their ignorance of the situation, the prisoners decide to make up for lost time and spend a lot of positive, quality time with Es. The kids are finally allowed to play, and the they finally let the adults act a bit protective over them. This is when the found family completely kicks in lol. Es gets to sleep easy knowing they are all alive and happy, they receive all their memories again, and they get to return home to their own family.

I added it to a reblog but editing with @/qrevo's tags because this is what I was looking for but couldn't quite pin down to make it healing for Es too:

[gretavanlace]

Anathema (part 1)

Jake kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, violence, dark themes, horror themes, illusions to oral sex, digital penetration, etc

Born of this incredible ask…please keep those off the rails requests coming!! I’ve taken some creative liberties as always

It’s plagued you for months, this incessant, rhythmic, thump thump thumping.

The first night, it had dragged you out of a fitful slumber. Nudged it’s way right into a strange, unsettling dream you were wandering through. The sound became the backdrop, keeping time as you stumbled through an unfamiliar room with no doors until you clawed your way conscious and embarked on a sleep deprived, desperate, search for the source.

The second time you were lying prone on your stomach, nursing the sting of a sunburn. Worn down and exhausted from a day at the lake with too much sun and beer, and not enough sunblock. The sheets felt scratchy beneath you, dragging over your UV beaten skin like fingernails dug in just a little too deep. Annoyed and drained, you hadn’t been able to muster the energy needed for the hunt, and instead, had willed yourself to ignore it until it shuffled over into white noise territory.

The third happening had pissed you off, for lack of a more elegant description.

‘What the fuck is that?’ Had been your frustrated hiss into a dark apartment with no one to answer your query but yourself. Again, you had searched, leaning in close to appliances, pressing your ear up against wall after wall. Again it had proven fruitless. Was the noise coming from inside your own head, you began to wonder. It seemed plausible. Hell, it was beginning to seem likely.

To prove your sanity, you asked neighbors about it, receiving only blank, confused stares in reply. When it got to the point it was happening each and every night, you’d implored a friend to stay over and help you get to the bottom of it.

Clear as a bell it had reverberated through your apartment - wet, organic pulses of sound that made you think of a heartbeat, but not quite.

She had heard nothing, and simply suggested you run a fan at night with a shrug.

A good idea?

Perhaps.

In theory.

However, and you know this sounds crazy, every attempt has been carried out in vain.

Fans? Each one stricken with a smoking motor the moment day ticks over into night. The radio, drifting classic rock softly into the darkened space? Staticky signal that inevitably fades into silence. Noise machines? Broken straight out of the box. Television? Fell off the wall though securely attached. Ear plugs? Missing - pair after pair.

It is as if the sound wants to be heard.

There is an old water stain that occupies the space above your head when you lie awake in bed at night, and if you stare at it long enough, your eyes begin to blur and it looks as though it’s floating. Undulating into languid, shifting, shapes. A faded, brown cloud painted across dingy white paint to keep you company when sleep evades you.

Tonight finds you like most nights do; lost in that disgusting stain, aching to block out a sound you can’t be sure is really even there. Does it exist if you are the only one capable of hearing it? It seems as waste - something occupying space in the universe, real and extant, solely for you.

It seems closer, and something about that makes an unease prickle up your spine. Real or imagined, it is far too near. You’d like to climb out of bed to escape the muted pounding, but it will only follow.

There is a change taking place, though you can’t decide how you have come to understand that truth. This night is pivotal. A shift of great importance is materializing. Salient and inescapable. Grave and arousing in your desire to understand it.

Still, you can’t shake it, no matter how badly you want an answer to your torment - the horror that lies beneath. Whatever is becoming of this night, it isn’t pretty, and it isn’t good. It is dark. It is malicious. It is shadowy malevolence incarnate slithering into the room, dank and feral, like a diseased organ rotting in the corner.

There is something else there, too. A familiarity. A comradery. It too was adored and held in high esteem once, only to be cast aside. Forgotten. Abolished. A favorite child replaced by a soft, pink, newborn babe.

Oh, the ugliness that can be born of love so beautiful.

“I was never beautiful.” The voice comes like a backwards echo. Falling into the space around you strangely, a chilling embrace you burn to scramble out of.

You want to listen to it all your life and to never have heard it at all, all at once. It is horrific, like nails raking back and forth along a dusty chalkboard…and yet, it is alluring. The most alluring. Gorgeous and wrong, like a curse word in a language you don’t speak.

You’ve darted up into a tiny crouch against your headboard, frightened and thrumming like a rabbit hunted and cornered with nothing but a blanket clutched in your shaking fists to protect you from….

…from what?

“You aren’t beautiful, either.” The voice sounds out once more, treacherous and lovely. “Angelic package, all smooth skin, and pink, wet places to cradle a cock, but you’re ruined on the inside. Fucking ruined.”

Cold sweat - you’d always chalked it up to lazy descriptive prose. A way to convey fear without thinking too hard about what fear really is…how it feels, how it takes up shop in one’s body.

How wrong you were…and how awful it truly is. You feel akin to an unwelcome houseguest in your own flesh. Cold. Clammy. Sticky with sick, terrible chills.

Go away. You think silently. But take me with you.

“Fool.” The voice disapproves, mockingly. “Take me with you. Shut up, you’re all alike. One taste of something that is bigger than your small existences and you’re falling all over yourselves to come along for the ride. Fucking leeches.”

Tiny orbs, black and offensive to the eye, are gathering in the corner of your bed, materializing like a fluid swarm from underneath, until you feel like your heart will actually rip apart inside your chest.

The fear is crippling, and also, the only real and true thing you’ve ever felt.

Slowly, like a nearly dormant hive of wasps, a shape begins to form. It’s strangely sharp around the edges - that’s the only way to describe it, though it makes no sense. It’s like tiny needles sinking into your retinas, except, it hurts so badly it almost feels euphoric.

You want more, and more, and more, of that unnerving pleasure-ache, so you watch…drinking it in, even as you quake in terror.

A hum, cousin to a whispered wail, like demons screaming along the strings of a warped violin, sounds out. “Ah, so she likes the grotesque sinew better than the pretty muscle. I’ve a glutton for the underbelly before me. My favorite.”

Do his eyes take shape first, or do they simply steal the show? You know nothing but their flashing, reptilian stare. Icy in their chocolate warmth in a manner that shouldn’t be, shifting with each rapid blink. Pupils so blown the black eclipses all else one moment, then slivered and whittled down like a feral cat’s the next. Blurred over white with a translucent, protective lid and then suddenly clear as crystal, and just as stunning.

His flesh draws focus next. Shape shifting in texture with each minuscule twitch of muscle. It is without blemish and tempting, you find yourself longing to reach for it; but it is hideous as well, flashing and rippling with something that brings scales to mind below the tan expanse. Something lies beneath and you know without doubt that you’d likely not enjoy seeing it.

But which is the facade? The beauty? Or the unholy creature it shrouds? And does it even matter?

Discs of silver are draped around his elegant neck; clasps obscured by mahogany waves that sway against his shoulders. Doubloons pilfered from the abyss of Davy Jones’ locker. Plucked from the pockets of those lost to fickle, frigid waters, and fashioned into strange jewelry. Though you have no knowledge that this is their origin, only that they are mesmerizing, just as everything about him seems to be.

He steps closer, shoving the bed aside with a bored flick of his wrist, rather than moving around the wooden post at the foot.

It’s then that you notice his hands. Wide, menacing palms, delicately agile fingers that move through the air like he is conducting the orchestra of all things.

Rings carved out of metals you can’t identify are adorned with ancient gems you don’t recognize. Shimmering stones of indigo and cerulean, bioluminescent and alive in their glow, winking and glittering under your stare, soothing you with their wicked loveliness.

One - and you’ve already decided it is your favorite - curls up around his thumb like a spiraling root, green as seaweed. Connected, is a thin thread of iridescent aquamarine blue, that leads to a cuff of silver around his wrist etched deeply with hieroglyphs. It disappears beneath a sheer cloak of still blue that flutters as though caught in a soft breeze.

Upon the opposite wrist, a woven wrap of ivory rope - primitive and time worn. He follows your inquisitive gaze and softens slightly at your curiosity. “It tethers me to the sea, little fish.”

Flashes of majestic, gentle whales floating in navy waters as they sing, spark through your mind. He seems to see, and it perks an oil slick smile curling at his lips. “Further back. Before there were hands clutching quills, scribbling to record time, the salt waters were choked with slippery, filthy, things. Monsters. That, is the sea I am bound to. It still exists somewhere that isn’t here. So save your pretty notions, if you would, as I am so tired of them.”

You choose not to think about it any further, lest he grow angry with exasperation…what if he were to leave? But, shouldn’t you want him to go?

Those hands, worthy to rival history’s greatest artistic creations, end in razored, terrifying claws, and he catches you watching them, fear wild in your eyes, as he saunters closer.

“Do I frighten you?” There is a hiss tucked away behind a sensual rasp…the serpent sidewinding through the grass, eager to taste your sin upon its forked tongue. “Do these frighten you?” he drags a claw along your thigh, slitting it open so cleanly you could glimpse bone if only you bring yourself to look. There is an absence of pain, but you cry out anyway.

“Hold your tongue or I’ll slice it from your pretty mouth.” He sighs, bored already with your all too human antics. “Speak quietly, and I will listen. Scream, and perhaps I might enjoy it enough to give you reason to carry on so.”

He flicks through the blood trickling down your leg, speckling it against your chest. “I asked if these frighten you,” he clicks his claws together and the sound doesn’t match the action…they bring to mind bells made of glass.

You find yourself shaking your head, and even more strangely, you find that it’s true. You’re no longer afraid of them. Intrigued seems a more apt description now.

“No?” His tongue sweeps across his plush bottom lip. You shudder to find that it is, in fact, forked. “I’ve just split you open so deeply I could bend and suck the marrow from your bones and you look upon them with devotion. Are you stupid, or simply gluttonous for agony?”

Sensing neither answer will bode well for you, you choose trembling silence.

“They can be anything I’d like them to be,” he’s strolling around now, pacing like fire licking along a back and forth trail of gasoline, idly tapping at you, toying in the blood that still seeps from your painless wound.

“Givers of unimaginable pain. Lenders of mercy. Silver like our dear friend, the moon. Dripping red as though I’ve buried them into your heart to wrench it from your chest.”

You’re hanging on every word…he is a sinful prophet and you would bow and wash his feet with your tangled hair, even if they were cloven hooves.

“I can drift them through you, a sacred thread through the eye of a needle. Tear you to ribbons without so much as a wince of pain, as you well know,” he nods at his handiwork, where you remain splayed open and spilling blood, albeit slower now. “Or, I could rip holes through you, dull and jagged, until you were suffering in unthinkable torment. Pain of which you cannot fathom. Pleasure greater still.”

You’ve settled down into a gentle writhe you can’t seem to quiet. He arches an eyebrow with what seems to be festering fondness that somehow borders on distaste.

He exhales and the room suddenly smells of something unfamiliar. Something that makes you picture sinking down into cold, silent, depths. Black ocean floors, alien creatures. Solitude. Death. End.

Your chest tightens with slow panic, you’re drawing oxygen deep into your lungs, but could you still be drowning?

“How long?”

“How long?” You borrow his phrasing, confused. It is the first time you’ve truly spoken to him and words you’ve known all your life taste foreign on your tongue.

Those seductively predatory eyes blink alive like diamonds tumbling under golden light. Is it the sound of your voice that has affected him so? The fact that you have calmed enough to squeak out a question? Or something else entirely?

A shuffling noise sounds out, like the swollen tail of a fat and famished crocodile lumbering along the edges of a vile swamp. He is moving closer, but there is nothing dragging the floor behind him. He’s fabricated the sound, you realize. He is building a world. He wants your fear.

Fine. You decide, spine straightening almost imperceptibly, he may want all he likes, but he won’t have it.

“Mind your thoughts, little fish.” He warns, “I can hear each one clearer than if you’d spoken them aloud and I’ve a nasty temper. If it is your fear that I want, it is your fear that I will have. If it is the useless cunt between your legs that I fancy, I’ll have that, too. Now, answer me. How. Long?”

He takes pity and plants the seed of understanding in your muddled mind. How many nights have you spent alone, he’s pondering. How long since hands have charted maps along your body?

The thought of hands touching you draw your attention back to his, and you’d like to say never. You’d like to be his, completely his, never spoiled by one who came before. Looking at them makes you ache. The way you believe he would touch you makes your stomach roil with revolt. You are both repulsed by and desperate for it.

“Strange, aren’t you?” His chin cocks and the blue light of the moon catches his face. He’s breathtaking, but still, there is what lies haunting and hidden, to contend with. It waits just below that pretty, deceiving surface, a riptide sent to drag you down. You won’t fight it.

“I hide away in your room, night after night,” he bends down and snakes his cool tongue along the frantic pounding of your jugular. The fork catches your earlobe and makes you cringe, but you refuse to cower away. “Drive you just shy of completely mad…” he licks at you again. “And still, I can smell it - how your lovely cunt weeps for whatever I might see fit to slip inside.”

Your body shakes violently, but out of fright or want, you can’t decide.

“She’d gladly open up for whatever I offered, would she not? The blades that tip my fingers? The entire fist of my claw? This tongue you seem so disgusted by, my cock - even if it landed, heavy and cruel, upon the floor, cracking the very foundation beneath your feet. You’d take it, would you not? You’d welcome the pain of my pulling you apart, destroying this pretty package from the inside out, and that is not a question. I’m a spy, little fish, and I know.”

Suddenly, you hear it. Has it been there all along? No. No, certainly not…but there it is - thump thump thump. It’s closer than it has ever seemed no matter how avidly you chased it. He watches the feverish fury come alive in your gaze and he seems beyond entertained by it.

“You…” it hisses, low and accusatory, out of you. A verbal pointed finger of rage.

A smile that doesn’t meet his eyes bares his teeth. They are perfectly straight and white as driven snow, but there is something odd about them, too. “Oh, how I’ve enjoyed watching you descend into madness every night, driven slowly insane by the sound of my cock pounding for you.”

Realization wraps itself around you - a clingy lover you can’t spurn. The sound had danced with a hint of familiarity all along, like a heartbeat, but not quite.

“You’ve been hiding here? Watching me?” You latch your grip around the reins of your voice, fighting for control of it. Still, it quivers. “All this time?”

“My business is none of your own.” He’s grown bored with your questioning, though you’ve only just begun. “I have watched you, and I will watch you still, if I so choose. What leads you to believe that you have a choice in the matter?”

Sickeningly, you relish it - his disregard for your opinion. You’re not sure what that says about you, and you’re not sure that you care.

“Why?” The words hushed out of you, small and weak though you so badly wish for strength. “Is it love that keeps you coming back?” You wish for love more than strength.

“Love?” A laugh barks out of him, halting and nasally. “I love the way you twist and turn in your sheets when you touch yourself because you think there’s no one to see. I love the way you sound when you cum. The way you flush with shame when you realize you’ve made a mess and the neighbors might have heard. I love the way you smell when you’re afraid…like an apple perched upon a stick and candied in terror. I love the way you think you’re looking for a sound that drives you to distraction in the dark, when in reality you are simply refusing to see.”

He knows you and has seen you engaged in the most intimate of acts. You hate it. You love it.

“Close your mouth before I fill it.” The admonition shakes the rafters of your soul, and he looks exquisitely pleased with himself. “Would you enjoy that? Do you like sucking cock, or is it an obligatory act? A means to an end to be spat out and rinsed from your tongue?’

“I—“

He shuts your mouth with a sharp glare, “I don’t ask questions because I care to hear your answers. I ask them because I enjoy watching you squirm. You’re delectable when you’re uncomfortable.”

“Besides,” his knee is sinking into the bed now, crawling closer like a spider readying to wrap you in wet silk spun from his body. “If I want to know if you enjoy a cock in your mouth, I’ll shove mine down your throat.”

He waits until you seem to shrink in on yourself. “Good. Now, find your silence and perhaps I’ll tell you how I came to be this thing. Would you like to know what found me before I found your bed?”

A slow nod gains strength, encouraging this unburdening that seems to be gaining momentum. It’s true that a current of thought has been rushing steadily behind all others in the back of your mind…the wonder of what he is, how he came to be, if he plans to hurt you, or turn you - whatever that might mean.

“Little fish wants a grim bedtime story? A horrendous tail to quench all that obscene, voyeuristic need that lives hidden inside you?” He reaches down, mouth hovering so close to yours you can taste the salt and clove on his breath, and heals the wound he inflicted…simply sealing it up with an upward drag of the same steely claw that inflicted it.

The creation of the gash hadn’t hurt, but the healing of it brings to life an indescribable pleasure inside you. The serotonin floods your brain, thick and heady. You’ll chase this feeling for the rest of your days, you just don’t know it yet.

“My name was Jacob,” he begins. “He who supplants or follows after. I did not live up to my moniker. My father was a great man. Long gone in a war time doesn’t remember. I was meant to carry a legacy of nobility, strength, pride. I did no such thing.”

His tongue, now pink and soft, wet and delicious, laps over the sweet spot he has sussed out along your collarbone. Fork mended in order to soothe your unease.

“I enjoyed the chase of indulgence, instead. Catered to my own desires and no one else’s. My mother wept for her lost child with his selfish soul. My brother, born but a few moments before me, tried to drag me back into the fold, but I wanted none of it.” His hand is on your stomach now, tickling those frosty, shining blades ever so gently over the fluttering muscles there.

“No,” the bridge of his nose sweeps along your jaw as he inhales his next meal of carnal indulgence. “I wanted none of it. I opted instead to chase the sweet embrace of a brand new cunt to kiss my cock night after night…”

The admission squeezes an aching, ravenous, moan from your chest. You’re disturbed and terror-stricken, but it’s a feeling like none you have ever experienced before and you want more and more and more. More, more, more, worse and worse, uglier and uglier.

“I spotted her along the shores of Iteru. Her skin caught the light as she sunbathed, like the tiger’s eye I wore on a length of twine around my neck. Her hair, black as pitch, her eyes darker still. She seemed to be watching me, calling to me, and I went to her.”

Jealousy has reared her hideous head at the thought of him wanting her, but he drives it right out of your thoughts by slipping two fingers inside you, curling them and calling forth a cry of wanton bliss. If the claws are still there, let them leave you torn and bleeding, for you never want this to end.

“Having nearly drowned in that very river as a boy while fishing for perch, I never ventured near. My brothers fished those waters, but I hunted gazelle to make my contribution to the family table at night. But she was a blue flame, and I, the ignorant moth who wanted to flutter my wings between her legs.”

Deeper his touch sinks, searching out a place you hadn’t even known to exist. “Jacob…” the name claws at your throat as it escapes but he merely tilts his head, watching you with fascination as something ripples beneath his cheeks. It reminds you of snakes breaching soft seas, shaking your shoulders with a shudder of disgust.

“That was my name.” He corrects, fucking you into a cloudy, desperate haze with only his hand. “Don’t use it again, and do not ask what I am called now. It matters not.”

As though turning the page of a deranged picture book, he carries on. His voice raking with an underlying vibration you can’t place.

“I was terrified of water, and I should have been terrified of her. But I went to her, and without a word, she spread her thighs and I fed her my cock until she was spent and nearly asleep on the muddy shore. Her father heard her cries. Had I covered her mouth, perhaps I would’ve rotted to dust in a tomb long ago, as I was meant to.”

You have reached for him, and he has allowed it, and now you’re clutching at his cloak, threatening to rip holes into its silken waves.

“Her father was a tyrant. Evil and cruelly protective of his beautiful, only daughter, who enjoyed the hands of men more than she worried about snaring one to wed. He carried magic in his veins, but no honor.”

You’re close, far too close for his liking, and his hand retreats to play in circles over your quaking inner thighs as you whine and plead with him to make you cum. He quiets you sternly and carries on.

“He sentenced me to eternity in inky, prehistoric waters. Doomed to swim them as a horrific, sickening thing…one that would never again turn the head of a pretty girl lying in the sun. But she held magic in her blood as her father did, weaker than his, but there all the same. She gifted me the shell you look upon now, so that I might still indulge, from time to time, in what I love so well.”

Your voice comes strong and sure, more confident than you have ever known it to be. “Indulge, then.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @calumspretty @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @starcatcher-jake @gvfpal @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson

[treefory]

Snorpy’s theory

768 words

And like that he was gone.

“Hello? Is anybody there? Anyone?” He called out only to get silence in return. After pouring his feelings out to his beloved Chandlo, he got nothing

he turned back around and put his glasses back on. One of the lenses was smudged and the other still dirty.

He peeked his head out the mill's door. “Chandlo are you there?”

But of course he wasn’t there. Only the snaks from Gramble’s barn acnolaged him. With a disgruntled sigh he returned to his cleaning.

“How odd…”

— — —

That night he stood in front of his conspiracy board Looking over his meticulous work. Red yarn linked drawings of his theories together. Yes it looked like a bunch of random papers pinned to the wall but that didn’t matter.

But no matter how much he tried to focus on what the grumpinati was planning for him. The thought of his confession to Chandlo plagued his mind.

The way he didn’t even react to what he said then ran off after Beffica. It disturbed him. And the way he said “terrible secrets” Was weird too. Chandlo doesn’t have any secrets. So why would he ask about that?

Unless that wasn’t Chandlo…

“Dear grump. Has the grumpinati already figured out how to make clones? Perhaps lifelike robots?” He went to his small shelf and took some paper. He made a drawing of two Chandlo’s and wrote the word impostor on top of one then hung it up.

“Terrible secrets, huh? My love doesn’t have any!” He mumbled to himself. “Its ai is possibly the best I’ve ever seen. When I get my paws on it I’ll Tear it apart and turn it against you!”

He cut some red yarn and connected the drawing to the grumpinati symbol. “I’ll foil your plans once again, just you wait.”

“Hey Snorp-dawg!”

Snorpy squeaked when he heard his best friend (with benefits) greet him, but Everything seemed normal about him… so far.

“Ah Chandlo, it’s just you.” He said as he gave him an awkward smile. “Or is it…” he whispered

“How’s your day been? Any new invitations?” Chandlo asked as he took off his cap, letting his shaggy hair fall out.

“Of course you would ask about my inventions, Impostor.” He said under his breath

Chandlo sat on his bed “Huh?”

“Oh nothing “Chandlo” my day was wonderful!” He smiled. “Say…”Chandlo” If you’d like we can talk about your terrible secret now.”

“… what terrible secret?” Chandlo asked. “You know I wouldn’t keep any secrets from you.”

“Oh so you don’t remember what we were talking about earlier?”

“No? I haven’t been here since this morning.”

Snorpy turned back to his board “ah, so I see that you're not the imposter then.”

Chandlo got up “Huh??? Snorpy, what imposter?”

“Oh it’s nothing.” He dismissed

“Why would you think I’m an imposter?” Chandlo said as he now stood in front of Snorpy.

“Well if you insist, When I was cleaning my glasses you came to me and asked about a “terrible secret”. And after I spoke to you, you ran off after Beffica. but since you have no recollection of that ever happening, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are two of you.”

“What? Bro that’s impossible. Maybe you just confused me for someone else?”

“Hmm perhaps. But who would ask me such a question?”

“Maybe Beffica? She did have pinkle arms and I’m pretty sure I saw her with one of my jerseys. You might have thought she was me.”

“Hmmm I suppose that is a possibility. She is known for being in others business, no matter how private.” He said as he adjusted his apron. “But I still think you should keep an eye out for anymore of you. Just to be safe of course.”

Chandlo gave him a warm smile “anything for you snorp-dawg!”

— — —

Stars now filled the night sky as the mill’s wide doors now let in A nice breeze. Snorpy gently pulled the glasses off his face and set them on his shelf. Chandlo was already in his bed on the other side of the room.

Snorpy sat on his bed “Chandlo?” He called out softly

“Yeah Snorp-dawg?” Chandlo responded sleepily

“Since that wasn’t you earlier… I’m guessing you didn’t hear what I told you? About the “terrible secret”?”

“Nope.”

“Ah… I see…”

Chandlo sat up in bed looking Snorpy in his eyes although all Snorpy could see was a green blob. “Something you wanted to tell me?”

“I- uh… no. No I-it was nothing” and with that he laid down in his bed “good night Chandlo.”

[the-au-collector]

Epic: The Musical and Linked Universe

So I’m sure someone else noticed this already but Epic: The Musical gives off Linked Universe vibes. So I’m honor of the Circe Saga releasing next week, I thought I’d put in my 2 cents about what songs I associate with each Link (+some non-canon LU Links). There’s a bit of another LU-Links-reunite AU building up in my head but there’s no real direction yet so have this brain vomit instead:

- The Horse and The Infant - Warriors. So this goes into my headcanon that Warriors is the hero of 10,000 years ago. No I have no foundation for that theory. It just IS. Anyways he’s fighting the Yiga with an army of Gerudo and Hylians. He has to kill the Yiga leader’s son, who’s the new incarnation of Ganondorf. The kid is an infant. I don’t think I need to explain more but yeah.

- Just A Man - Hyrule. This song is the ultimate Hyrule song for me. It explains his character in my Relinked AU too. It’s just… it’s Hyrule’s song. As for the story based off of Epic: The Musical itself, I think he’s running from some sort of war in his Hyrule (either a civil war or a war with Calatia). The details aren’t that clear yet, other than he kills someone and feels bad about it.

- Full Speed Ahead - Wind. Need I say more?

- Warrior of the Mind - our first non-canon Link: First! I Imagine First and Hylia kicking ass together during this song

- Polyphemus - Okay, we’re getting into true AU territory with this one, but this is Twilight’s song. He’s trying to piece together the Mirror of Twilight again and accidentally angers a Hinox or other large monster. With him is Dusk, Rusl (or maybe Colin), and Dusk is stabbed at the end. That’s all I’ve got for this one.

- Survive - Time. And this one has a Story. Ganondorf attacks Time’s castle town with an army of Gerudo and monsters. Time and the Sages fight him off but at the last second he breaks free and slaughters everyone, including Time. However, just as the song ends (the point where Polyphemus falls asleep), Zelda rewinds time and sacrifices herself to seal Ganondorf into the Mirror of Twilight. This is the moment the Downfall Timeline is created too.

- Remember Me - Our second non-canon Link, Shadow! He, Four, Dot, and others are fighting this monster. The Four Sword shatters, Shadow takes charge but in the end wants to do the noble thing. Oh and he gives his name as “Link” and not Shadow (or Shade, as Four’s beginning to call him in my headcanon)

- My Goodbye - Legend and Fable have a falling out. Legend’s sick of feeling used because he’s the hero, so he decides he’s had enough.

- Storm - Our third non-canon Link, Age! Basically a Tears of the Kingdom scenario except Age and his Zelda (Fauna) never went down below the castle. He never loses his arm and Fauna never goes to the past, but they have to evacuate Hyrule to the sky with the help of the Light Dragon who clears the way.

- Luck Runs Out - Sky and Groose. Idk what went down in Sky’s Hyrule but they’re having a disagreement about how Sky’s handling it.

- Keep Your Friends Close - Our last non-canon Link, Spirit! This one also has some story behind it to make the song fit. Idk why, but he and his Zelda (Phantom) have gone to speak to their Wind God, Zephos (the same from Wind Waker) who gives them a challenge. They fail and Spirit gets separated from the group. I imagine it might have something to do with Ganondorf who’s still stuck under the receding Great Sea.

- Ruthlessness - This absolute bop goes to Four. It’s also a follow-up to Remember Me, so that means the monster Shadow refused to kill is Special. Related in some way to Fierce Deity special. So the story here is after the encounter with the monster, Four, Shadow, and others (I’m debating giving Vaati a redemption arc?) decide to try to get help from the god Fierce Deity. Except Deity is pissed because he thinks Four is a weakling when it was actually Shadow who took the blame for what happened to the monster. Fierce slaughters all of Four and Shadow’s men, Four seals himself into the Four Sword to distract/hurt Fierce, and Shadow escapes but feels really guilty.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll add the Circe Saga when it comes out.

[prince-kallisto]

Malleus expelled from NRC?

Malleus, in addition to having had his Overblot by choice, has been the one who has caused the most danger to everyone so far. Although, as time is still, there is no material loss, and everyone woke up where they were. Let's face it, the risk was serious, as it was putting people's lives at risk (if we consider what Ortho said, which I find bizarre considering that time stopped, so the everyone's body should be suspended). Of course, even so, the people of the island of the wise could spend centuries sleeping, lose relatives and acquaintances, and become disconnected from the current time (that is if Malleus doesn't put the world to sleep). And ignorant of these factors, several forces are mobilizing, such as S.T.Y.X. Outside, the islands surrounding the island of wise men were evacuated. That's quite a problem, besides, Malleus' reputation will be elegantly ruined if his identity is revealed to the Media. I seriously hope his identity has been in secret and only the people who are resolving the situation know. Although everyone at Lilia's party saw it... Still, students don't have as much of a voice as the authorities. So I hope they don't reveal the identity of Malleus as the person responsible for the situation on the island of the wise men. Why his reputation goes where Judas lost his boots.

I haven't read the light novel, but I saw that people commented. It looks like Riddlr almost got kicked out in volume 1. If he almost got kicked out by an accidental Overblot. I can't even imagine a purpose....

This is so true!! Σ੧(❛□❛✿) I really loved the detail in the novel that yeah- Overblot had a BUNCH of realistic consequences such as being expelled and being ostracized by everybody. Although this has never been a problem in the game, the sheer scale of Malleus’ damage- ESPECIALLY when all the faculty and staff were there to witness it- makes this an entirely different case. Plus, the scale of the damage of the Overblots have been getting more dangerous overtime…

But since a Book 8 is very likely, which means the Diasomnia crew will be involved with us, perhaps something DOES happen to Malleus 🧐

Because in the Book 7 trailer, doesn’t Malleus look…frightened? Specifically when the thread “snaps” and Silver wakes up…I think there’s going to be a lot more to his arc than we think. Specifically, he will be the one in danger.

Something that’s been making me suspicious are the VERY hidden Coffins/gates behind Malleus, because he is caged up in thorns. I’ve heard some people say the cage looks like a crown- which I agree! But…doesn’t it also look like a birdcage?

Why hide the coffins in the background? Why the shape of this cage? The coffins have repeatedly been told to keep students inside three unconscious, and can only be opened by a SPECIAL KEY that Crowley has. This, plus the BIRD cage…it has me unsettled.

Overall, this is a very excellent point, because there will definitely be a “greater evil” than Malleus ಠ_ಠ And considering his importance and foreshadowing in the official art, I wonder if he will be the target or a “sacrifice” for someone with greater goals. Thanks for the ask, I love hearing your theories!! 💞💞💞🐦‍⬛

[crysta1ized]

phee’s character in the present is just so confusing

we saw that he clearly feels something for jin, pretty much moved on from non, and isn’t that involved in tan’s plan (just went to fuck jin and didnt get any info like he was supposed to) and even seems to want to spill at least some part of the truth to jin

but despite everything that just happened in the house, he isn’t against tan either. he’s unpredictable, just standing here in the middle, not taking any part in the chaos that is unfolding.

in a way that behavior kinda reminds of fluke’s, seeing everything that unfolds but not taking any side

after watching ep9 i was mad, like damn phee how could you? we all believed in you but you just went ahead and fucked one of the dudes that made your bf’s life miserable and eventually led to his disappearance, have you got no shame? i mean i was pretty on board with all the ‘phee and tan are the masterminds, they’re the ones behind the masks, they’re here to take revenge for non and kill everyone’ theories so obviously i was a bit disappointed…

but still, phee didn’t really take any side (yet).

tan told him he planned on drugging everyone in that house and he clearly didn’t look in his right mind in that moment. then por was impaled on a branch. all of them started having hallucinations. fluke got a gun and is waving it at everyone. top clearly looked possessed and is becoming violent. now fluke almost shot someone and has white at gunpoint.

all of that was caused by tan’s drugs. (except the 9th person and the uncle that got decapitated but that’s for another time)

mixing hallucinations with a gun, a knife, deep-buried secrets and fear is not a good recipe. one of them already died and that’s only adding to the chaos.

once again, all of that was caused by tan’s drugs, in a butterfly effect kinda way.

phee knows that. tan was only planning to use them to get the group to confess everything under the influence and finally get answers. or was he…?

whatever phee thinks of tan and of his plan, everything snowballed and led them here. but tan is still the reason things are the way they are. but phee didn’t confront him. didn’t reveal to everyone his real identity and intentions. no, he’s just watching from afar. he didn’t intervene, didn’t add to the chaos, yet didn’t do anything to keep things under control or do damage control…

he didn’t use the antidote.

i thought he dropped off tan’s plan as he got too attached to jin and kinda forgot abt why he was here in the first place, but maybe everything’s that’s unfolding put him back on the right path?

his non-action is an action in itself.

even tho he maybe believed the drug wouldn’t be that hard, he could’ve stepped in so things wouldn’t worsen a thousand times. he could’ve given them the antidote a thousand times for fuck’s sake! he could’ve revealed everything to them a million times too.

later on he will have to pick a side, tan’s (aka non’s) or the others’ (aka jin’s). that’s kinda ironic that it means he’ll have to choose between his 2 bfs (maybe this is all a love triangle after all *gunshots*)

on a legal pov, he would technically be responsible for por’s death and the ones that will follow right? maybe not on the same level as tan or as whoever will pull the trigger/stab one of them but the drugs are the main reason they’re acting like that and he knew abt them and did nothing, so he’s technically guilty too right?

why would he decide to do nothing and just watch the chaos unfold if he didn’t enjoy what’s happening or think they deserve it at least a little bit?

what will he do? who will he choose? be wise, phee, i’ve got my eye on you.

obviously all this theory could be proven wrong in the matter of seconds in ep10 if he decides to spill everything to jin (which id be VERY pissed abt, the d cannot be that good?!??)