tfw u find a new fandom and u a li’l weak for spookyboys

if i look back, i am lost

JBB: An Artblog!
Misplaced Lens Cap

★
Sade Olutola

Product Placement
art blog(derogatory)

#extradirty

shark vs the universe
One Nice Bug Per Day
tumblr dot com
Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
cherry valley forever
i don't do bad sauce passes
ojovivo
Jules of Nature

blake kathryn
Not today Justin
Stranger Things

seen from Malaysia
seen from Taiwan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Singapore

seen from Thailand
seen from United States
seen from Jamaica

seen from Brazil
seen from Germany

seen from Denmark
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Italy

seen from France

seen from Jamaica
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
@heeheezard
tfw u find a new fandom and u a li’l weak for spookyboys
oh we can beat them, forever and ever then we could be heroes just for one day
Different bed, Same nightmare
Trust Yourself: An Analysis/Theory of Orpheus, Nightmare, and Villain Charm
It's been a bit since my last analysis post and this is a topic I don't know that I've seen anyone talk about! That I think about a normal amount! So today we're going to talk about Orpheus and his plurality, in the context of IDV's timeline - specifically focusing on the management of the manor games and the detective's return to the manor - in which I'd like to pose the questions:
- When did Nightmare/Villain Charm come into existence? Can they even be said to be the same?
- Who actually ran the manor games?
- What is Villain Charm's goal in the present day?
TO BE CLEAR: this is not an analysis on DID (mis)representation in IDV. This is specifically analysis and theorycrafting on what the narrative is trying to tell us - the canon of what is happening, not whether it's accurate to real life plurality. As such, I will be touching on some things that IDV does that aren't accurate, and this is not to agree with its portrayal of these things.
Now! Onto the analysis. Buckle up, detectives, it's gonna be a long one.
A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one
Nobody in your small coastal village has ever seen the Godmark that you were born with. It’s a dark russet sequence of criss-crossing lines, with a vertical arrowhead on the left and a circle on the right, just over where your brow meets your temple. Some of the traders who come down from the mountain say it looks like one of the scripts used in the hinterlands, but not a language that any of them recognize.
“If she’s got the temperament for it, she should try her luck inland,” they advise. “No point her starting a temple here if she’d find her people elsewhere, with a little searching.”
At first, your parents are reluctant to send you away. Though you’re well-behaved and diligent in your chores, you’re a sickly child with no God to worship. And besides, you’ve always been the dreamy type–inclined to lose track of time watching the path of rain droplets chasing down the window, or the fronds of an anemone as it sways in a rock pool.
Instead, they send you to the temple of the Storm to learn all you’ll need for your own God. You are happy there, for a time: making up beds and serving food to the castaways who pass through, keeping vigil at the lighthouse, burning incense and praying with the loyal widows and orphans of the drowned.
One such widow, an old, old lady, touches the mark on your forehead. “I recognise those letters. We wrote this way in the town where I grew up, way off past the mountains.”
Your heartbeat quickens. “What does it say!?”
She squints, eyes engulfed by wrinkles and hidden behind smudged glass. “A… Ar… Oh, I can’t remember how to speak it. I left before I learnt my letters properly. There was a war, you know. But I remember,” she says, mistily, “the most beautiful pink and white flowers used to grow, on the borders of the wheat fields…”
You try to ask more questions, but remembering the war distresses her, and so you speak of other things. When she’s drifted off to sleep, you get to your feet, go home and tell your parents: you are leaving in search of your God.
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
I reblogged this once with the first story. Now the story has grown and I’m crying. This is gorgeous, guys. This is what dreams are made of.
This is amazing!
i've been posting a lot of wips & teasers for my undertale 10th anniv project on twitter but wanted to compile them into a big post before putting them here. only a few days away! it will be release on sep 15th, my time, so please be there!! :D
Agrotale Introduction Thread!! (Take Two)
Agrotale is an AU based on the Queen Alphys neutral ending you can get by abandoning a geno route in Hotland. Which means that Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton, and Asgore are all dead. The fallen human, Everett, must traverse the underground and avoid being captured by the Royal Guard and escorted to the Queen. The name Agrotale comes from the fact that Everett is a gardener and helps with the Underground's agriculture after a malfunction in the CORE limits food supply.
Sprites:
Everett - The Fallen Human
《 Beginning (Twitter) 》
Climbed Mt. Ebott in search of rare plants, but accidentally fell in. Stuck in an unlucky situation, but tries their best to get on the Underground's good side. Uses the seeds in their pocket to plant food when the CORE experiences a malfunction. Got confronted by Muffet in the ruins, who was tasked by someone to take their soul, but was saved by Sans. He looks out for them to make sure they don't try anything stupid, and he makes it well-known that there'll be consequences if they do.
Muffet - Ruins Hermit
《 Ruins (Twitter) 》
Muffet was banished to the ruins after her actions during the previous human's rampage led to countless more deaths, as well as the fact that she threatened to cannibalize the Queen on multiple occasions. Muffet is the same as ever- greedy, and willing to do anything for money. She may have even made a new business partner...? It may be best to grow eyes on the back of your head, I think someone may be watching you.
Dess Holiday - Head of the Royal Guard
《 Dess Casual Outfit , Dess Talksprites , Dess RG Walksprites , Dess Casual Walksprites 》
Dess was inspired to take up head of the Royal Guard after Undyne's passing, and was able to secure her position due to hard work and determination- as well as some nepotism sprinkled in the mix. Dess is great at her job, but she takes a lot of breaks to goof off with her sister, Noel, in the forest. She finds Sans a bit annoying, but for the most part they are on good terms. She has a rocky relationship with her mother, and after Asgore passed, it's been worse than ever. She's glad that her job gives her an outlet, and she's glad that she has a bat on her at all times (lest she needs to take her frustrations out on random items in the forest). She patrols Snowdin.
Noel Holiday - An Angel, Wouldn't Hurt a Fly
Dess's sister and Carol Holiday's daughter, Noel. A bit skiddish, but it seems she made some friends at the library. And, she's well liked amongst Dess's Royal Guard friends, too. Noel gets babysat by Grillby whenever Carol or Dess are unable to watch her, and since Sans is a frequent visitor she's become pretty close with him as well (to Carol's dismay).
《 Bonus 》
Carol Holiday - Royal Advisor to the Queen
《 Carol Talksprites , Sans and Carol Doodle , He's Just Annoying (Twitter) 》
Is not handling Asgore's death well at all, and she's a pain in the Queen's ass, but, she's exceptionally good at her job. So, she keeps her position as the Royal Advisor swiftly secure. Becomes frustrated with Alphys easily, but does make an attempt to keep her composure, as she knows that this isn't Alphys's fault. Sans, on the other hand, she can't stand. In any other context, maybe she would have taken a liking to him, but in this situation? He never takes anything serious, and it irritates her to no end.
[ Bonus ]
Birdly - Works at the Library
Works at the library whenever the owner can't make it. Definitely breaking multiple child safety laws, but his family needs the money, and the owner needs a break. So it's not like anything'll change anytime soon. Birdly lives with his mom, Bird. She's at Grillby's majority of the time, so he makes himself at home at the library. He even made a few friends too! Once Suzy came to town, she was a bit of a loner, and she wasn't up for conversation. She took a liking to Birdly when he started giving her recommendations for books he thinks she would like (and was correct). Noel also comes in for books pretty frequently, and it seems like she started showing up more once Suzy moved in.
Suzy - New Kid in Snowdin
Moved from Waterfall for a change of scenery, and because it's where everyone else was going. Doesn't talk about her home life, and no one knows where she lives. Friends with Birdly and Noel, and, she won't admit it, but the only reason she still comes to the library is to see either of them.
Grillby - Professional Cook and Babysitter
Still works at Grillby's, except now he has a new unofficial job as a babysitter for Noel. He became close with the Holiday's since Rudy was such a frequent visitor of his restaurant, and he used to watch Dess as well when she was younger. He enjoys the break away from his job, and he believes it's good for his daughter to get some work experience. He doesn't appreciate all the free handouts she gives to her friends, but I guess he'll let it slide. Especially considering he technically does the same thing for his. Sans and Alphys visit the restaurant frequently, and he's always happy to make them food even it's for free. He appreciates all the work they're doing for the underground, and he likes to help wherever he can.
Fuku Fire - Grillby's Daughter
《 Dess & Fuku Fire Doodle (Outdated Design) 》
Works at Grillby's whenever her dad can't. Friends with Dess, and gives her free food during her breaks. Pretty close with Sans, since he's known Grillby for a while, and she's been getting closer with Alphys because of how often she visits Grillby's nowadays.
Monster Kid Teen - Dess's Right Hand
《 Design , Doodle , Sunflower (Twitter) 》
Was inspired to join the Royal Guard after they watched Undyne die in front of them. Suffering with intense survivors guilt, MT swears that they won't wimp out this time when the next human falls, even if it means disobeying their orders. Deep down, still just a dorky kid, but they put on a tough exterior to seem more intimidating than they actually are. Really close with Dess, and Dess helps train them (and helps force them to take breaks when they push themself too hard). Alphys is very empathetic towards them because she knows exactly how they feel. Sans also helps train them every now and then, but his training style isn't nearly as serious as MT would prefer. They still live in Snowdin, but are assigned in Waterfall typically (per their request).
Gerson - Royal Guard Trainer
Wise old man with a lot of fighting experience, trained all of the new Royal Guard members, starting with Monster Teen, since they were the first to ask him. Of course, he obliged. Talks to Sans and Alphys often when they pass through Waterfall.
Mad Mew Mew - Vigilante / Future Royal Guard Member
Was killed by Frisk just after she fused to become Glad Dummy, however, she brought herself back to life out of spite and possessed the Mew Mew doll in a last-ditch effort to survive. She's now falling apart at the seams, and she is determined to get revenge. When she's not causing chaos, she's hiding in people's sinks or messing with fast food workers on their breaks. She patrols Waterfall, illegally.
Catti & Jockington - (Honorary) Royal Guard Members
Jockington is an official Royal Guardsman, however, Catti is not. She just follows Jock wherever he goes, and became an honorary member in that way. They both patrol Hotland.
Sans - Queen's Assistant / Bodyguard / Jester / Royal Scientist / ....uhhh? What the hell's this guy's deal, anyway?
《 Sans Royal Scientist Walksprites 》
The Queen's right hand man, almost never leaves her side. Says it's for Alphys's sake, but it's also for his, too. In contrast to his True Pacifist counterpart, Sans is secretly longing for a Reset to occur, and in a painful set of irony- no longer believes it to happen. Once he had this revalation, it took him weeks to catch up on all the months of grief he prevented himself from processing. But, Alphys was there to help, just as he was there for her. He's an all-rounder in terms of occupation, he does whatever Alphys needs whenever she needs it, no questions asked. Well, maybe some questions- like why she needs a flatscreen TV installed in the lab, and why she thought Sans was the right guy to call for help.
Sans proposed a new rule for humans, stating that there is no need to kill on sight unless they are shown to be outwardly aggressive or a genuine threat. He and Alphys are both smart enough to know that not all human children that fall down will be dangerous, and they don't want to continue the cycle of violence that ended up getting the people of the Underground nowhere in the end. And since they never made a promise to their people that went against their morals, they are free to do so. And since Asgore's plan didn't work out, the general public decided to give it a chance as well. Sans and Alphys put evacuation procedures into place for whenever a human were to fall down, just to be safe. They also installed cameras in the Ruins as well, so they can monitor whether or not that has happened yet, and plan accordingly.
Sans visits Toriel's home every now and then, keeping it as clean as he can for her. He does the same for the catacombs, since he knew she watched over the Ruins like a second home. He also found her joke book, and he writes a new entry every day to keep it going. He bumps into Muffet every now and again, but she knows to keep her distance.
《 Judgement Hall , Bonus Sans & Queen Alphys Doodle 》
Alphys - The Queen
《 I Depend on You , Design Sketches , Sans & Alphys Walksprites 》
The new Queen of the Underground. Tries her best to do what's right, but most of her good decisions come from the hands of Carol, who's really doing all the work behind the scenes. She was allowed to move into the Castle, but her room is too... imposing for her liking. It reminds her of everything that happened, of all of her new responsibilities as Queen. So, she uses it as a work station instead. And elects to sleep in Sans's room right next door, instead.
She tries her best to live up to Asgore's expectations, but seemingly falls short each time. She's grateful for Sans being around again, but she's upset that these are the circumstances that led to them getting back in touch. Not to mention that most of their interactions are work-related nowadays. But, she would rather it be Sans than anyone else. She made her armor as if she was making a cosplay, which is why it's so extravagent. It IS functional, but its very inconvenient, so she only wears it if she has to. Typically, she just wears pajamas under her cloak. She changed the Delta Rune symbol on her cloak in order to honor Undyne and Mettaton, along with all the others who fell to the human. Instead of a triangle in the middle, a star takes its place. Symbolizing their sacrifices.
With an unlimited budget and an engineering degree, Alphys & Sans spend a lot of their free time building gadgets. A lot of which ended up being weapons. Hotland has gotten a large revamp since Alphys became Queen, and it is one of the safest parts of the Underground due to all of the security measures in place.
《 Bonus Alphys Sketches , Bonus Sans & Alphys Sketches 》
End!!
This post will be updated whenever I can think of something else to add, or whenever I make more content for the AU.
There are some other external links for this AU I would like to share, one of which being the animatic I made on YouTube!!
I have an old Twitter QRT thread with reference sheets for most all the characters, however, some of the information and designs are slightly outdated, and all of the art is old so I'm not the biggest fan!! 😭 BUT!! For completion's sake I'll link it here if you want to give it a look.
Fanart Extras:
IHop Saga (Twitter Thread)
Muffet Fanart
Birthday Art
Watering Can
Plenty Qualified
Mewpants
Madpapyrus
🦴 font family "au" where the meta narrative multidimensional shenanigans didnt happen ???
the japanese-vietnamese scribbles are just me explaining the localized names i gave them Yes i have to viet-blast every characters i like. get vietwashed idiots!!!!
idk what to call this,, i wanted to try writing my own "storyline" for the font family (skelebros and gaster) but as if theyre "normal"(?) monsters like the rest of the ut/dr cast – choosing to ignore the multiverse game cop (??) thing going on, with sans undertale might be sans deltarune etc. gaster still shatter across time and space though, but nothing further than that?
basically lets all pretend it is 2015 and this is all we know about the funny font skeletons LOL. dont treat this as an actual au or serious plot or anything cause i dont. however i am with the cans of worms i refused to open though lmfao,,,
very bad english btw Please Excuse Them tôi không biết nói tiếng anh (lie)
wait till they find out he's an orphan too
Just mentioning that Sans is related to science makes me faint.
In the recent Undertale newsletter, Toby Fox showed off an unused scene that would have occurred in the Judgement Hall had the player decided to speedrun the game! This scene features Sans chastising the player for being early and slowly eating an ice cream for about a full minute while an original, slow song plays. I’m sure this would have been quite a headache for speedrunners!
(The scene can be viewed in it’s entirety here)
Favorite bird genre has got to be 'that's literally just a dinosaur'
Groove-Billed Ani
Hoatzin
Pheasant Coucal
jon and daisy jon and daisy jon and daisy jon an
THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMM!!!! LOVE THEMMM!!!!!!!!
Tim finds out
The thing about s5 of tma is that there are many, many points where Jon and Martin are having two completely different conversations and viewing the same situation in completely different ways. They are similar but have opposite world views and I feel like most arguments about them come from the fact they are just straight up not talking about/viewing the same thing. Martin views Jon as a stepping stone Elias used, Jon views it as a choice he made. Martin views smiting as fighting back against things trying to kill them, Jon views it as abusing powers he got from causing the end of the world. They are not viewing the same situation! To Martin, Jon is a victim threatening to follow in his manipulators footsteps. To Jon, he either can throw more people in his situation, or take the burden of his choice.
A lot of this can be brought back to how they grew up and how it affected how they view any conflict. Martin didn't have any agency growing up, couldn't do anything to fix these overwhelming problems and this has only increased with the added supernatural aspects. So when he sees they have a way to fight back against the literal end of the world, he leaps at it. They can actually save people, he thinks. They can actually make a difference. Even if they can't help anyone, they can at least get rid of the people causing it. There's no solution for the major problem, but they can at least do Something.
Jon felt like he narrowly avoided what was Supposed to happen. He cheated death, and someone else died for it. He dodged it instead of fixing the problem. As far as he's concerned, this has happened over and over. He was supposed to stop the Unknowing, but he didn't and Tim died instead. He was supposed to save Daisy, but he survived and she succame. As far as he's concerned, he is "dodging responsibility" by not being able to solve these huge overarching problems. So when he sees the opportunity to take out the problem at its source, as far as he's concerned it's the only right option.
Jon views it as taking responsibility for what he did for once in his life. Martin views it as another person disregarding everyone's wants and views, this time with the worst consequences possible.