Friendly Reminder That Héctor Has Been Dead Much Longer Than He Was Alive, He Was Only 21 Thats Literally

Thinking of a decidedly non-fixit Arcane AU where Silco and Vander both live, but now have to navigate negotiations with Piltover for the nation of Zaun, and the fallout in their families.

Eight years ago, when Marcus spirited Vi away to rot in prison, unbeknownst to anyone he managed to take a just-barely-alive Vander, too. Vander remains Marcus’ best-kept secret, but after Silco and Jinx are arrested, he’s yanked from the bowels of Stillwater and reinstalled as leader of the newly declared nation of Zaun.

Reeling from his change of circumstance and the paths his family has taken during his imprisonment, Vander must now navigate the aftermath of the very different plans Vi and Silco have laid for an independent Zaun. 

But after five months of negotiations, all Zaunite prisoners are released from Piltovan prisons, and Vander and Vi must confront their siblings, and grapple with the base violence necessary for change. Takes place at the end of an alternate Act III.

Vander survived like Vi did, but Vi does not realize this at the time. She spends her entire time in Stillwater believing he died of his injuries.

Shimmer did allow him to survive, but he remains Vander rather than Warwick the robot-zombie-werewolf/living embodiment of the Hound of the Underground he will almost certainly be in canon.

The plot of Arcane proceeds pretty much normally. Caitlyn does not initially learn of Vander, as he wasn’t involved in the incident with Silco’s henchman. Few Piltovans know about Vander, and prior to Jayce and Mel’s initiative, even fewer care enough about Zaun to bother with him. After Caitlyn and Vi address the Council, Marcus’ dealings are discovered, and the idea of Zaunite independence is floated, some rusty gears start turning, but Jayce isn’t privy to this and still attempts to negotiate with Silco.

Silco still spirals when offered independence at the price of his daughter, and still monologues to Vander[‘s statue] about it. However, word of the terms, and Silco’s refusal of them, somehow gets out to the other Chembarons, and then to Zaun at large.

Fortunately, this manages to head off Jinx’s tea party of horrors.

Unfortunately, this leads to a (very understandably) enraged mob of Zaunites willing to drag both father and daughter to the bridge of Piltover for the price of one, and/or stone them in the streets.

Silco has precious few moments to assure Jinx he’d never forsake her. When the mob comes for them, he tells her to go and tries to cover her escape, but Jinx refuses to be separated from him. The mob washes over them.

Jinx, as she always does, fights like a woman possessed. Silco may be rusty, but he is and will always be a son of Zaun, and he is scrappy. When a man cuts off one of Jinx’s braids and starts tearing at her clothes, Silco stabs him to death with his own knife. But when the first stone is thrown, at the foot of the Bridge, all he can do is throw his scrawny body over hers in a desperate attempt to shield her.

Meanwhile, Cassandra Kirammen has just seen fit to reveal Vander’s survival to Caitlyn, who races to tell Vi (who is in Zaun hunting Sevika).

Vi is nearly overcome with joy at his survival and the prospect of rebuilding Zaun with a stable adult, and almost as pleased when they hear an angry mob has come for Silco. However, her joy turns to horror when she realizes Powder is with him, and Jinx is just as much a target of the mob as Silco is.

Vi races over the rooftops in the mob’s wake trying to reach her sister. She’s horrified to see a dead man, stabbed and trampled and still clutching a bright blue braid.

The mob surrounds Silco and Jinx at the Bridge, hurling stones. They are dispersed by a warning shot from Cassandra Kiramman, backed by a squad of Enforcers. The first thing Silco sees, when he’s able to lift his head, is a Piltovan gun pointed at him and his daughter.

Vi arrives at the rooftops overlooking the scene to hear Cassandra Kiramman tell them that Violet was right, their own people did turn on them. The anguish in Jinx’s cry as she buries her face in Silco’s chest and he tries to comfort her will haunt Vi for years. For a moment, Silco sees Vi above them, and the accusation and rage on his face as he holds his battered, traumatized daughter is chilling.

Cassandra then drops the bombshell than not only has Vander survived, he’s now poised to become the new leader of Zaun (provided cooperation with the Council). Cue Silco breakdown.

Vi watches the Enforcers arrest Silco and Jinx as Zaun processes this news. Having all but traded places with her sister after all these years, her reunion with Vander takes a bittersweet cast as she, Vander, and Ekko set about rebuilding Zaun and dismantling Silco’s Shimmer empire.

The chembarons put up a fight, but not as much as they might’ve, at least openly. Sevika managed to avoid the mob and she quickly emerges as one of the voices Vander knows he’ll have to negotiate with. Ekko and especially Vi are not happy with this, but the fact remains that Zaun is sorely lacking in any remaining competent leadership who’s been in the Lanes for the past 8 years and is even remotely trusted by the people.

Meanwhile, Silco and Jinx have had near-simultaneous breakdowns with the reveal that Vander is alive, Vi “betrayed” them to Piltover, and both of them are now working with Topside for the independence Silco’s (allegedly) been working for for the past 8 years. Convinced more than ever that everyone else betrays them, they become, if possible, even more codependent.

They are separated during intake (Jinx’s other braid is cut so she's not lopsided), and their frantic reunion in the canteen attracts attention, and some crude suggestions that Jinx should find herself a younger man. Silco, disgusted, says she’s his daughter.

Silco has failed to stand up to Piltover, failed to keep power in Zaun, and now apparently failed to kill Vander. His single-minded devotion to Jinx is all that stands between him and a complete breakdown, but his power to protect his child is severely limited in prison; in Zaun he was a king, here he’s just a sump-rat. And he’s fading.

Like the mutant fish that prowl the waters, Silco is adapted to the chemicals and pollutants in Zaun, and when cut off from the Shimmer, like a fish out of water, he gets very sick, very quickly.

Silco and Jinx see each other at meals and outdoor hour (no effort is made to separate men and women), but otherwise prisoners are left to rot. Neither engage with any other prisoners, even their henchmen. But Silco gets weaker, and as the months turn colder, he becomes too sick to leave his cell. When he doesn’t show at the canteen, Jinx takes it upon herself to go to him. She locates his cell and sneaks in at night (with some lockpicking help from Mylo’s ghost?). She can evade the guards, but she tells Silco they’re more concerned about keeping prisoners in Stillwater than what they do in there. Silco is more concerned about the implications of who might be able to get into his teenage daughter’s cell.

Silco is not doing well. Guards bring food to his cell, but don’t bother to see if he eats it. He can’t keep it down, and he’s becoming too weak to try. He tries to give it to Jinx, telling her not to waste it. It’s the only thing he can do for her.

He’s dying, and despite his attempts to reassure Jinx she’ll be alright, he’s terrified at the thought leaving her alone. Jinx is determined to keep him alive though.

She makes it to his cell every night, rumors be damned. When be becomes too weak to eat, she feeds him, doing everything she can to keep him fed, keep him warm, keep him breathing through the night. Fluid fills his lungs, leaving him in a state of constant drowning. He lapses into delirium, raving about Marcus and Vander and Vi, about Piltover and Shimmer and the nation of Zaun. Eventually, he can barely keep down water, and all Jinx can do for him is draw sharks on the walls and ceiling of his cell, to guard him when he’s trapped in nightmares he can’t wake from (she gets it.)

After five months of negotiations (~December?), Vander and Vi secure the release of all Zaunite prisoners from Piltovan prisons. What to do with them presents a challenge, as Zaun has no criminal justice system and next-to-no legitimate economy. Many of the prisoners are petty criminals by Piltovan standards, but ordinary citizens caught by Topside in Zaun. Then there are prisoners like Silco and Jinx, considered personae non gratae even (or especially) in Zaun. No one knows what to do with them, but it’s agreed they should face Zaunite justice.

Piltover knows that “Zaunite justice” could involve another mob, but they don’t care enough to object. Vi and Vander also know this, and care very much.

Vi is still in denial that Powder/Jinx is hated as much or more than Silco.

The prisoner transfer comes with little warning in the bowels of Stillwater, as the guards round up all the “sump-rat” prisoners one morning and send them to the Bridge, where the leaders of Zaun have assembled.

Vi is overcome with relief when she sees Powder among the released prisoners, but Jinx can’t find Silco.

He’s at the end of the crowd. As per the agreement, Piltover will release prisoners at the bridge, but he must cross it himself, and he’s barely able to walk. When he tries he immediately slips on the icy ground and doesn’t get up. Guards are laughing, Jinx is becoming frantic, and Sevika senses danger. 

Lying face-up on the bridge, Silco looks up at the flag of the new nation of Zaun and almost gives in. And then he hears Jinx screaming his name.

Silco can’t walk and Jinx can’t carry him. But she won’t allow anyone near, and Vander and Vi just agitate her more. Sevika finally steps forward to carry him to a van that will take him and Jinx back to Zaun.

Sevika takes a moment to assess their condition before making the executive decision to drug Jinx unconscious and carry Silco into the Last Drop

 Vander takes one look at him and calls for a doctor. When it becomes clear that Singed expects him to die and is a little too enthusiastic at the prospect of dissecting his eye, Caitlyn offers her father’s services as a doctor and escorts him to Zaun.

Vi stays at Powder’s bedside. When Jinx wakes asking for Silco, Vi tries to assure her she’ll never have to see him again, only for Jinx to punch her in the face and rush to Silco’s bedside calling for her father.

The first thing she sees is Vander standing over him, and she wrenches him away with strength that shouldn’t be possible. When Vander comes face to face with his youngest daughter after 8 years he can’t help but flinch.

Powder was his kindest of his children, the sweetest, gentlest, always trying to please. Jinx looks at him with rage and fear and accusation and betrayal and hate. She looks at him with Silco’s eyes, the last time he saw him.

Then she has him on the ground, too fast for him to react, going for his knife as Vi and Sevika try to separate them. Jinx and Vi briefly square off to defend their fathers, before Silco stirs.

Tobias Kiramman arrives to find the leader of Zaun battered and brooding, Caitlyn comforting a tearful Vi (who’s sporting a black eye), and Silco and Jinx reuniting for the first time in an independent Zaun. Both are weeping. It would be touching, if they weren’t who they were.

He recognizes Singed as a disgraced former doctor turned serial killer, and is concerned by the Zaunites’ unsurprised reactions. He’s the only doctor in Zaun, and the good ones wouldn’t come to the Undercity if they had any choice.

He’s also disturbed by the condition Silco’s in. It should have been obvious he was ill, but it’s clear he received no medical care in prison.

When Vander slashed his face open, chemicals in the water leached into the wound, formed crystals in his flesh, in the back of his eye. His eye’s turned black, the flesh of his cheek underneath caved in and rotted away. What was in that water? Singed would love to find out! Some phenol maybe. Shimmer kept its spread at bay, but now…

He’s so weak Tobias warns Vander he may not live, but Vander tells him he will, because Silco’s a survivor, for better or worse.

Silco and Jinx’s move back in the Last Drop goes about as well as Sevika expects. They put Jinx in Powder’s old room, leading to disturbing, violent meltdowns that Vi and Vander are unprepared to deal with, while Silco’s health crashes several times in one night.

Vander concedes that it’s unsustainable and, on Sevika’s suggestion, eventually puts Jinx with Silco over Vi’s objections, as he’s the only one who can halfway calm her during meltdowns and she's the only one with experience with his healthcare.

Jinx has become Silco’s sole motivation to go on, and their dynamics subtly reverse. Clinginess and insecurity are traits readily associated with Jinx, but not obviously with Silco. Jinx has always been dependent on Silco, but in Stillwater and after she cared for him. This wasn’t to pump up her feelings of importance, or even a child’s desperation to avoid losing another parental figure; Jinx sincerely cared for her father out of concern. When he tells her she saved his life, she tells him children can take care of parents when they grow up. 

The threat to their relationship was never Vander. Vi is another story, but Silco is Jinx’s father, not him.

Vander is unwilling to ask anyone else to care for Silco, and whatever Jinx can’t do Vander does himself. Silco alternates between vicious cruelty and such obvious physical and mental agony it’s impossible to fake, and he can swing unpredictably from one to another. He doesn’t need to accuse Vander; he knows.

Silco’s necessarily feeling overwhelmed and emotional after learning of Vander’s survival and Zaun gaining independence. He’d finally understood and and even forgiven Vander when he believed him to be dead, but the reality of confronting him alive is very different.

Vander: Sweeps in to gain independence and claim leadership of Zaun after 8 years in solitary confinement 🙌

Silco: half-carried out by his teenage daughter after 5 months in prison

Yeah, Silco doesn’t like that.

On one night, Vander freezes outside Silco’s door, listening to his brother curse Marcus and his deception, writhing and crying in pain from the wounds Vander gave him, as Jinx tries to soothe him by describing how she killed Marcus in graphic detail and offering to kill his 5-year old daughter. He curses Vander too, and Vander flinches when he hears Powder offer to kill him as well, if it would make him feel better. But even wracked with pain, Silco realizes how dangerous this could be and that he needs to be the adult in this situation. He declines, and tells Jinx to be absolutely sure he’s lucid before carrying out any hit jobs he issues. 

On another night, Vander finds Silco passed out covered in vomit and carries him to the bathroom to clean him up; as he puts him in the tub Silco comes to and panics at the combination of Vander and water, struggling violently enough to injure Vander and himself. Vander in frustration finally asks if he would burden Jinx with all of his care, and Silco begrudgingly surrenders. When Vander makes him admit he hasn’t kept any food down all day, he brings him new food for to eat and watch him eat it. Silco tries to tell him not to waste it and give it to Jinx, but Vander snaps at him that it’s not a waste.

They begin to speak, a little, about their children. What to do with Jinx? Redeem her as Powder or prosecute her as Jinx? Silco credits Jinx’s theft of the Hex gem and threat to Piltover for Zaunite independence, the base violence necessary for change. She’s perfect, he tells Vander, a true daughter of Zaun. She’s done what we never could.

Vander’s learned a lot about the things Jinx has done, what Powder’s turned into. He can’t tell if Silco is truly that blind to her faults or if he’s in denial. When he presses Silco about what role he played in making Jinx, Silco riles, but not at the accusation he corrupted her. He genuinely believes that becoming Jinx was the only way to heal Powder from the pain of betrayal, something he knows well.

He tells Vander that after Vander tried to kill him, he returned to the mines, through paths even Vander never knew. He stumbled for days (though he admits that he might have been hallucinating, as there are things in the mines that can make you “see things”) before he came to an underground clearing filled with impossible flowers sustained by a mysterious glowing fluid. He collapsed there, and it was there Singed found him. Singed asked him if he wanted to live, and Silco tells Vander he wanted revenge.

Vander’s heard enough and turns to go, but Silco becomes more agitated, snarling at Vander not to turn away from him, to look at him. But to Vander’s surprise, her doesn’t seem motivated by anger or possessiveness or a disagreement in ideology; he’s terrified for what will happen to Jinx if they try to force her to become Powder again, reduced to begging Vander not to do that to her.

When news comes that Piltover has officially recognized the nation of Zaun, most of the surviving adults of the rebellion generation are overcome with emotion at the news. Silco breaks down as Jinx comforts him and Vi finds Vander weeping it the Last Drop and goes to him. Caitlyn spies Sevika crying quietly in a back room and slips away before she sees.

Silco and Vander have achieved everything they once wanted with the nation of Zaun, but they cannot share this victory together, not now. The truth they are unwilling to concede is that Zaun’s independence took both Silco and Jinx’s “base violence necessary for change,” and Vander and Vi’s diplomacy and compromise with Piltover. They need to be united, as they once were, as they always planned to be, if they are to move forward. But they won’t. They can’t. Not anymore.

Vander was never meant to be the diplomat. Silco was supposed to be the clever one, the negotiator, who wove his way through a trail of paperwork and legalese, who’d gain the respect of the Pilties once Vander was done cowing them from the Undercity. It takes more than a revolution to build a nation. Vander needs his brother now.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Silco’s there, he’s right there, down the hall, on the other side of the door! But his brother is gone.

On top of that, wanting Silco dead is one of the few things that unite most in Zaun (and Vi and Ekko aren’t inclined to deny them). Vander insists he will stand trial once he’s strong enough to stand, but many would prefer a quicker end to justice. Fear of Jinx is all that stands between Silco and a very easy death.

Sevika: You’re welcome to try. It’s just a matter of how many of you Jinx will take with her.

Vander is between a rock in a very hard place. One night, Silco wakes to Vander crying silently over him, but gives no indication that he’s awake. Silco and Jinx are monsters, but they are monsters of Vander’s own making. It is not possible for Vander to pursue justice for Zaun without betraying his brother and his daughter, again.

Silco gradually becomes aware that a significant factor in independence negotiations was the return of the Hextech gem to Piltover, and it hasn’t been returned yet, because Vander and Vi can’t find it in the Undercity. When Jinx confides that she hid it before the mob took her and knows its location, for the first time since Stillwater, Silco has some hope.

 For better or worse, Silco is back in the game. He starts to pull himself together. His hair’s grown out, hanging unevenly to his jaw, clipped back with Jinx’s sparkly barrettes. He's lost so much weight his dress shirts no longer fit, so he wears them wrapped around, held in place with a belt that needed a new hole worked into it, and what look like pinstriped pajama bottoms. Tobias Kiramman hears one Zaunite comment that “at least he’s dressing normally now.”

At one point he also watches in horror as Silco, barely strong enough to walk, lights up a cigarette. When Dr. Kiramman protests, citing his lungs, Silco coolly asks Jinx to open a window, allowing a haze of greenish smog to enter. As Tobias chokes and coughs, the two Zaunites remain impassive, and three glowing eyes stare at him through the haze.

Sevika also pays Silco a visit. She denies being a traitor, as she worked for Zaun, not Silco, but tells him she wasn’t the one who exposed his deal with Piltover to the Chembarons and to Zaun (That was Renni, and I honestly can’t blame her). She also tells him he looks like shit, but he looks more like himself than he has in years.

Silco’s plan is to use knowledge of the Hex gem as a bargaining chip. Not to avoid prosecution, he knows that’s impossible, but his goal is to get a sentence that’s survivable rather than being left to rot in Stillwater, with a guard bribable enough to allow Jinx visits (and potentially explore other means of leverage).

He also seeks to shield Jinx from prosecution, taking all blame for her crimes however implausible. Everyone in Zaun knows it’s a lie, but Silco’s hoping that apathy will save them rather than ignorance. 

Ironically enough, his and Vi’s goals are completely aligned, had they ever considered coordinating their assertions that Jinx was blameless and acting solely on Silco’s orders.

However, all his plans fall to nothing when, on trial by the leaders of Piltover and Zaun, Jinx lives up to her name, threatening them with Hextech weaponry in a bid to protect Silco. Sevika later finds him crumpled in a corner, helpless and out of options to save his daughter or himself.

(This family is so doomed by the narrative).

Head canon!: Severus wasn’t actually super powerful magic wise. Like he has a normal magic level. He’s so good at dueling, not because he uses overwhelming force but rather because he knows various spells, when and where to cast them, is extremely creative with them and is very dextrous. All skills he learned at a young age fighting against 4 people at once. He learned to fight dirty and for his own survival and he learned fast! He’s such a unique opponent because at any point he could also pull out a potion bottle or make a wall fall down on you you never noticed. He never fights ‘honorably’ because that will get you a early an shallow grave, he fights tooth and nail using any and all tactics to win and THAT is what makes him a good fighter.

on catholicism and severus & tobias snape

if you’re going to expect a very well-thought out essay about this, please let me stop you right there. it likely won’t be :)) but this was prompted by comments of people on my hc of catholic!snape and a (long) conversation with @dementedlollipop on discord that just spurred so many Thoughts.

going under a cut coz i don’t know how long this will be.

Keep reading

The most striking thing about Papyrus (aside from his limitless positivity) is the fact that it is literally impossible to die in a fight against him. Even Toriel, who starts purposefully missing you once your health gets low enough, can accidentally kill you, but Papyrus? It is literally impossible. Papyrus has incredible control over his power! Wow, what a great and impressive skeleton. And, even though he could probably deal some legit damage to you on the murder run, his only action is to spare you, because he’s heckin worried about this little emotionless murder child.

A lot of people like swap aus where Sans is the one that dies and Papyrus is forced to shed his naivete and face you going all-out, which makes sense, but also, Papyrus is just so. Papyrus. I feel like if Papyrus had to be the final murder-run boss, it’d be more like, “After losing Sans, the world seems like a different place. I can’t imagine what you must’ve gone through for you to see the world the way you do.”

He only has one attack, but it’s a really long one and powerful one (kind of like Sans’ before his ‘special attack’), plus he talks during it, which would be pretty distracting. whenever he gets your hp down to 1, combat automatically stops and you’re ejected back into the judgement room. if you try to talk to him without healing, he’ll just say you’re too hurt - a gust of wind could knock you over! after you heal at the conveniently placed save point and go back to fight him, he has stuff to say about how you don’t have to be alone, you don’t have to do this, you might think there isn’t any good in you and it’s too late to change, but there is and it isn’t! After a few of those, he’ll talk about Undyne and Sans, and they always tried to help him, even when they thought he wouldn’t notice. He’s got a ton of stories about that. After he says his piece there’s an option to either fight or don’t fight, and every time you pick fight he looks disappointed, but he goes all out. He’s always able to be spared.

if you survive his attack, he goes down in one hit. his last words would probably be an apology, even though he tried really hard he still couldn’t show you a better path

What i love here is that everyone is excited to go back and feel casita also, but Bruno is the only one staying so anxious. What is it Bruno? You feel your powers returned? Not used to being carried away by casita? Anxious about returning in the house you help rebuild?

Damn it he's so cute.

Please tell us more about Voldemort's relationship with Severus, and why you think it differs so much from Voldemort's other relationships

Whatever it is that lingers between Tom and Severus—power, manipulation, some dark bond none of us can fully grasp—it naturally ignites chaos in the mind of the beholders. And if you’re eager to feel that burn, I’ll gladly embrace you in it. To you brave, reckless souls, I say this: your wish is my command.

So, here we are, picking apart how Severus Snape—mudblood, poor, and bruised from the heavy hand of a Muggle father—managed to land himself a spot at the table with the most rabid pack of blood purists you’ve ever seen. A table, mind you, he had no business sitting at. The Death Eaters, that tight little clique of privileged purebloods, had no real reason to let in this scruffy little outsider. Sure, Snape was useful. Very useful. His skills were sharp as knives, and he could do their dirty work, get his hands filthy so they didn’t have to. But useful doesn’t mean welcome. Useful doesn’t mean accepted. You know who else was useful? Fenrir Greyback and his mangy lot. They brought terror to the doorsteps of half the wizarding world, and did Voldemort’s cause no small service. But did they get a place at the inner circle? Did they get respect? Hell no. They were the dirt beneath the boots of the real Death Eaters. Useful filth. And then there’s Snape, embodying everything these purists claim to despise—a half-blood with a tainted surname, living in squalor, dragged through the muck by a Muggle brute of a father. By all accounts, Death Eaters should have spat in his face and tossed him out like yesterday’s rubbish. But no. Not only does he get a seat at the table, he rises. He’s placed on a pedestal, standing closer to Voldemort than some of the most loyal, purest-blooded lackeys in the room. Voldemort, in all his cold-blooded glory, didn’t just tolerate Severus. He raised him up, right in front of their sneering, offended faces. Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. If you think Voldemort did this out of some sense of gratitude, you’ve missed the point entirely. Tom Riddle doesn’t do gratitude. That kind of sentiment is beneath him, an alien concept. Voldemort doesn’t reward; he uses. Deeds done in his name are expected, not appreciated. You’re not going to get a pat on the back from a man who thinks the world owes him its loyalty. Snape’s service should’ve earned him nothing more than a brief reprieve from pain. A loosening of the noose around his neck, if he was lucky. That’s Voldemort’s way—keep them all desperate, keep them all afraid. So why did Snape, of all people, get raised up? Why did he, the least likely among them, become a favorite?

Mind, it’s not just me declaring Snape as Voldemort’s favorite. That dark, twisted bond is laced into nearly every interaction between the two, as if something unspoken and festering passes between them. But it’s Narcissa Malfoy who lays it bare. A woman born into the highest echelons of pure-blood privilege, the very foundation on which Voldemort’s so-called supremacy stands, doesn’t hesitate when she calls him “the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor.” Let that sink in.

Here is the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a man whose lineage is steeped in the darkest of traditions. But when her family’s future is on the edge of a wand, when her son’s life dangles by a thread, she doesn’t rely on Lucius, doesn’t turn to Bellatrix. No, she comes to Severus, because deep down, she knows. They all do.

It’s something more insidious, something that slips through the cracks in the floorboards of Voldemort’s ideology. He is the one Voldemort trusts, the one Voldemort leans on, the one whose counsel can shift the dark winds of fate. That is real power, raw and untouchable. Narcissa sees it—how could she not? Even with all her aristocratic pride, even with the weight of her name and her family’s legacy pressing down on her, she understands that none of it means a damn thing next to what Snape has. Narcissa, with her family’s long, proud heritage, has to grovel before someone who, by the very logic of Voldemort’s cause, should be inferior. But Snape is different, and everyone knows it. They may not say it, they may not even want to admit it, but they know. He operates outside the lines, above the fray, immune to the very rules that were meant to keep people like him down. Snape, the half-blood, the one with the muddied past, holds a kind of sway that no one else in Voldemort’s ranks can claim.

Oh, there comes the bitter irony of Peter Pettigrew. After years of scraping and groveling, thinking he’d earned his place in the Dark Lord’s favor, Peter is handed over like a rag for Severus to wring out. Peter, one of the smug Marauders who’d gleefully hounded Snape through school, reduced now to something just shy of a house-elf, bowing and cringing under Snape’s very roof. A cruel twist of fate, no doubt arranged with Voldemort’s signature malevolence. Was this some attempt to plant a spy in Snape's house? Maybe, if you take it at face value. But think for a moment—Voldemort, who couldn’t pry Snape's treachery from his skull with all the power of Legilimency, putting his trust in Wormtail to do the job? The rat that couldn't outsmart a dormitory prank, never mind a master of deception like Severus?

No, this isn’t espionage; this is karma. Cruel, twisted karma orchestrated by the Dark Lord himself. You can almost picture Severus watching Peter scuttle about his house, casting him those withering, superior glances—knowing full well that Tom has given him this indulgence, this little taste of vengeance. Snape treats Wormtail with open contempt, because he knows he can. He knows it’s allowed, expected even. It’s as if the tables have turned in the most bitter of ways, a humiliating reversal of fortune. Pettigrew, who once revelled in Snape’s humiliation, now reduced to the lowest of roles, while Snape—Voldemort’s golden boy—sits at the top. Isn’t it delicious? You’d have to be blind to chalk it up to coincidence. Moreover, Pettigrew’s fate is all the proof you’ll ever need that Voldemort’s rule isn’t founded on something as simple or sentimental as loyalty. Loyalty? Sacrifice? Please. Pettigrew’s life was one long, groveling act of desperation to stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. You bring your master back from the brink of death itself, and still, all you get is contempt. Voldemort demands service, sure. But service? Guarantees nothing. And when you set Severus and Peter side by side, the question gnaws at you. Why? Why is Snape the favored one, the exception, the enigma in Voldemort’s otherwise brutal, predictable hierarchy? What makes him different? There’s something between them—something that doesn’t follow the usual logic of power and punishment. Voldemort doesn’t just tolerate Snape’s defiance; he rewards it, bends the system to accommodate it. Something unspoken, something hidden behind the masks they both wear, grants Snape a level of favor that Pettigrew could only dream of.

What’s crucial to grasp here is that Voldemort doesn’t spare anyone. His entire ideology is rooted in cruelty, in domination, in the ruthless obliteration of all who oppose him. He doesn’t just eliminate enemies; he obliterates them, wipes them from existence without a second thought. And yet, here’s the anomaly: Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a Muggle-born witch, is offered a chance to live. Live. This decision, however, is directly tied to Snape. Snape had begged Voldemort to spare her, and it is this plea—Snape’s plea—that softens the Dark Lord’s otherwise unyielding cruelty.

To truly grasp the enormity of this act, we need to take a step back and consider Snape’s position in all of this. Remember, Severus was just 21 years old when he found himself pleading with Voldemort, one of the most dangerous dark wizard in history, to spare Lily Evans.

Snape wasn’t the imposing, confident figure we often associate with him thanks to Alan Rickman’s performance—he wasn’t a man exuding quiet menace, seemingly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Voldemort. No, at this point in canon, he was barely more than a boy, a young man fresh out of Hogwarts, with no powerful lineage or wealth to protect him.

And yet, despite this—despite the sheer imbalance of power between them—Snape dared to approach Voldemort. Voldemort. With a plea. Not for himself, but for a Muggle-born witch. At best, Snape’s request might have been laughed off, dismissed as the desperate wish of a foolish young Death Eater. But it wasn’t. For some reason, Voldemort didn’t just tolerate Snape’s plea—he actually acted on it.

Consider how critical this moment was to Voldemort’s larger agenda. At the heart of his entire scheme is a singular, consuming fixation: the annihilation of the child prophesied to be his undoing. Harry Potter is Voldemort’s obsession, the one threat he must eliminate to secure his dominion. The Potters were no longer just enemies—they were the key to his future, and Harry was the focus of his most crucial mission. In this context, sparing anyone even remotely connected to Harry was an extraordinary risk. Leniency wasn’t just unnecessary—it was dangerous. By showing mercy to Lily, Voldemort risked undermining his own carefully constructed agenda. And this wasn’t a moment where Voldemort could afford to make mistakes.

This unprecedented act of “mercy,” this concession Voldemort granted Snape, became the very thing that led to his downfall. Had Voldemort simply killed Lily Evans on the spot, as he did James, she would never have had the chance to sacrifice herself for Harry. The protection her sacrifice invoked—the ancient magic that saved Harry’s life and turned Voldemort’s killing curse back on him—would never have existed. Voldemort, the cold strategist, fell because he didn’t bend for anyone—except, inexplicably, for Snape. And that single, dangerous deviation cost him everything. That’s how it’s all started.

And there it is— how it’s all ends. Voldemort’s final words to Severus Snape before he executes him. But pay attention to how he begins. “Clever man,” he calls him. He suggests that Snape might’ve already known the truth of the Elder Wand’s treachery. Tom would never acknowledge someone’s cleverness if it undermined his own intellectual abilities. If he implies that Snape may have already unraveled the mystery of the Elder Wand, it undoubtedly indicates that Voldemort had recognized Snape’s crucial role in the wand’s problems long before. It’s not just idle chatter or casual flattery. No, it’s a bloody confirmation that Voldemort himself had long ago pieced together the mystery of Snape’s involvement with the wand. This wasn’t some last-minute realization that forced his hand. It wasn’t ignorance that delayed Snape’s death, not at all. It was deliberation. Voldemort, for all his cruelty, wasn’t stupid. He suspected, long before that moment, that Snape was at the center of the problem with the wand’s loyalty. He just chose not to act on it until the very last moment.

He held back from executing him, searching for any other way around the wand’s limitations, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve killing Snape. But when it came down to it, when all other options were exhausted, Voldemort finally made his move.

And what does he do? He delivers a speech. A bloody speech, full of regret and excuses—“I regret what must happen.” Does that sound like the Voldemort we know? The Dark Lord who kills without a second thought, who carves his empire from the bones of the disobedient? Hell no. This is the man who thrives on fear, on swift, brutal punishment. And yet, here he is, delivering justifications like some guilty executioner. This isn’t Voldemort’s usual method. This isn’t the whip coming down fast and hard. This is something altogether more… hesitant.

That speech, soaked in rationalizations, tells us everything we need to know. Snape’s death wasn’t just business—it was personal. It’s a messy, ugly end to the unexplainable dynamic between them. Even at the very end, Voldemort is bending, twisting, trying to justify his actions to the one man who had managed to worm his way under his skin. And in that second, we see something rare—a glimpse of the complexity in their relationship. Voldemort’s usual ruthless efficiency is absent.

His “I regret it,” spoken once more, stands out like a blade in the gut, sharp and unexpected, slicing straight through Voldemort’s usual cold indifference. The Dark Lord, who has never spared a thought for the wreckage in his wake, lets these words hang in the air, unnatural as they are. A man who’s never known the weight of remorse now offers something that almost feels like regret. Not true regret, of course—Voldemort doesn’t have the luxury of feeling something so weak, so human. But still, It’s not a sentiment he offers to anyone else. It’s almost as if Voldemort doesn’t know how to process this lingering attachment, as though Snape’s mere existence demands something from him that Voldemort is incapable of giving. Snape occupies some strange corner of Voldemort’s mind, twisted and dark it may be, that not even the Dark Lord himself seems to understand. Despite the fact that I’ve painted a whole canvas of tangled thoughts on the strange relationship between Severus and Tom, I’ve barely begun to tug at the thread of their inexplicable dynamic. There’s so much more I could unearth, layers of intrigue and tension that ripple through every scene between them, and I could easily go on for hours about the small, delicious details woven into their story. But, as it happens, my full-time job is already sharpening its knife and aiming for my back, so I'll have to bring this whole saga to a close with the following quote:

For me, the intensity of this scene speaks volumes about their relationship, capturing the very essence of what makes these two so bloody fascinating. The way their gaze alone can make Death Eaters flinch under the weight of their unspoken understanding. It’s not fear, not exactly. It’s something colder, something deeper. As though they’re witnessing a bond forged in the dark, a grim understanding that none of them can ever be a part of.

That’s what keeps dragging me back to these two. The tension, the labyrinth of contradictions, the complex tangle of manipulation. I want to look away—hell, I should look away, just like the Death Eaters did. But there’s something about it, something that coils around me, tightening like a serpent’s embrace. Can you blame me?

deltarune soriel comic I did month ago.（1/2）

I have a theory about Rincewind. We all know that Esk is the female Wizard but narritive convention would dictate that she have a counterpart. What if the reason Rincewind isn't good at wizard magic is because he's more suited to witchcraft then wizardry? Has anyone talked about this before? I want fanfiction of this...

“I can’t be having with this,” Granny said, each word sharpened to points and enunciated with the accuracy of a champion knife-thrower outlining an unlucky target. Her glare was focused like a laser. It looked as though it could shatter rocks and burn cities to the ground. It was only slightly undercut by the enormous array of novelty candles that adorned Nanny Ogg’s mantelpiece. Rincewind, the unfortunate soul in her cross-hairs, shrank a little deeper into his armchair. He rather felt he couldn’t be having with this either, and tried to say so, but the old woman’s look seemed to have fused his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

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I don't want to be cringe, but I just had a vision that Bruno in a modern version of Encanto would upload his rat soap operas to youtube with titles like "RAT_WEDDING.mp4" (because he's an old man who doesn't know much about Youtube) and they would blow up in the ARG world because people would be convinced that there was some secret underlying message or code, especially once they realized that he was totally filming this in someone's walls. The only person who gets it is Dolores, whom the videos are intended for.

I have to say that the idea that Talon is manipulating Sigma by using the “melody” that he always hears doesn’t seem to hold weight in canon. The “the melody is a harness” whisper that people have claimed to have heard backwards in his short is actually another repetition of him saying “gravity is a harness” so that one piece of evidence isn’t correct — also, he asks “what that melody?” long before Talon ever had a hold of him. So it’s related to whatever happened to the black hole on the space station, not Talon’s manipulations.

The music he’s hearing is probably a reference to “the music of the spheres” —

Kepler wasted his entire life trying to prove this theory about the planets having a musical kind of harmony, and his attempts to map out this theory looked like Sigma’s hyperspheres.

So his weapon, that he uses rhythmically like a musical conductor is like... a reference to a life of research wasted on enormous metaphysical explanations of the universe that seem just out of reach of even the greatest minds, and the idea is that he somehow grasps these ungraspable connections by actually being able to hear this “music of the spheres”