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snenbubs · 5 months

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Hellooo! I would like to make a request for Mammon, please!

I was thinking of a scatter-brained and clumsy (Sloth) imp reader who manages to catch Mammon's attention. I specifically stated that reader is an imp from the Sloth Ring because she sleeps way more than the imps from other rings and one time she ends up falling asleep while sitting with (or rather, on) him. She's more than a bit shy, so the first time that this happens she is mortified when she finds out that she accidentally passed out on him

Also, with being a Sloth-born imp, I think it goes without saying that she is rather quiet and soft-spoken, so being small and not particularly loud makes it hard for Mammon to spot her at times

Thank you for reading! 🩷

I love this! I love sloth-born ocs so so much bcz they are just absolutely so relatable 😭

FOR YOU ANON; HB MAMMON X SLOTH-BORN IMP READER HCS AND A SHORT, BADLY WRITTEN ONESHOT :D becauze im feeling extra productive and the idea of falling asleep on Mammon makes me giggle.

- NOW, Mammon is a man of ACCURACY. Accuracy = money, and he loves money. He expects all his workers to be on time, prepared and ready to give their all to the respective jobs he had given them.

- You, a ditsy and clumsy imp that had been transferred over from the Sloth ring, was not that. You were sluggish, tardy, and wholly unprepared for the intense environment that came with a job under his name.

- Its this that catches his attention, lucky you!

- He didn't like you at first.

- He was ready to just throw you out the front door and hire a replacement, probably from a different ring - like Wrath, they worked hard in Wrath. BUT, he hesitated. He hesitated because he honestly felt a little bad for you.

- Like, he felt really bad for you. He caught you sleeping on the job, a clattered mess of strewn paper and ruffled hair. When rudely awoken, you were meek and quiet. Insistently apologising for your behaviour in such a pathetic, quivering tone that he really just couldn't throw you out. It'd be like taking a blanket from an orphan.

- He let you off with a warning, and kept an eye on you after that point.

- Your promises of better work were ultimately empty though, as nothing changed.

- It truly frustrated him how you were able to outmatch every single demon around you in failing at your job. Yet, aside from a quick scolding every so often from Mammon or some other advisor, you were never actually punished. His frustrations turned to facinations though, and after a while of nothing changing, he was honestly more interested in why you were like this than trying to change anything.

- With this in mind you find it odd that you keep getting promoted despite your lack of work. Additionally, how you keep finding yourself at Mammon's side, allowing him to engage in a mostly one-sided conversation with you.

- Your quiet, and soft-spoken nature attracts Mammon toward you greatly. Its a vast contrast to the personalities normally seen in Hell, and he enjoys the tranquility of your company.

- He can get quite stressed at times so to have you with him is almost like a relief. He knows he can relax around you, because you're always so absent minded and chilled out.

- It can be a nuisance at times though, as he has often lost you to crowds of paparazzi and fans. You just slip away with no sounds, no protests or cries.

- Sometimes he actually just attatches a cobweb to you to stop you from straying too far.

- It can be great fun though, because he's so big and tall you are a lot smaller against him so its easy for you to evade his gaze, you are always able to jump out at him and scare him at the worst possible times.

NOW, ENOUGH TEASING. ONTO THE MAIN COURSE - Falling asleep on him..... bats eyelashes and twirls hair around fingers

The harsh thrum of an engine reverberated through the bitterly silent air like a fish on land, foreign and unwanted. It was a loud sound, invasive to the thoughts of both inhabitants of the slick, dark juniper limousine as it prohibited any sort of conversational utterance.

You and Mammon, the two occupants, sat in a daring silence. Each too fearful to speak over the rough sputter of the vehicle.

Gleaming yellow sceleras, with the blackest of slit pupils gazed outward yearningly, to the side and out of a darkly tinted window. You thought the sky to be quite pretty, a sickly shade of green swirling with pale clouds and smog. The bright surface bled light into the otherwise dark shaking vehicle.

Mammon faced the other way, glaring out with distaste to the polluted domain he ruled over. Though the silence against the limousine was thick, it was not tense, or awkward. Rather there was an oozing warmth and tranquility bestowed between the two of you, allowing the close proximity you shared to remain comfortable and joyous.

It was this tranquility however, that would be your ultimate and metaphorical demise.

With the repetitive swaying of the vehicle, accompanied by an unstirred mechanical buzz and fleshy heat that radiated from the Sin next to you, you were soothed. You couldn't even stop it from happening, one minute you were as alert as an eagle and the next, your eyelids grew heavy. Judging the greenish scenery of the Greed ring came to a halt as your vision was enveloped in a husky gloom. You became groggy, and bleary, and in a feverish dream-like state coiled yourself into the closest thing that provided substantial warmth.

That thing? Mammon.

Upon feeling the slump of your body against his, Mammon tensed. He was torn away from gazing out the window to pore over you curiously, wondering why you had fallen against him so suddenly.

When he found your idle figure against his, limp and unmoving - aside from the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each breath - he quickly realised that you had fallen asleep. Unsure of what to do, he remained frozen for a few moments, cheeks growing hot and flushed with the prolonged contact.

This had never happened before. He'd seen you collapse all the time, falling asleep often spontaneously at work and at events without a care, yet you had never actually fallen asleep so close to him before. It felt... intimate. He was honoured for you to trust him in such a way.

For a few more moments he remained tensed. However, he soon settled with your frame against his, reaching a slow and gentle arm out to wrap against your body and hold you close to him.

For a moment you stirred. Your tail twitched behind you and you lifted yourself just briefly. Mammon oncemore tense, fearing that he had awoken you, and that you would find him clinging to you so sappily. To his relief however, you did not awake. Rather, now clutched closely to his side and secured by his arm, you nuzzled yourself further into his body. Hands intertwining with the fabric of his clothes for emphasis on how comfortable and cosy the situation you were in was.

For once, Mammon found himself to be content and happy. His gaze trailed across your figure longingly, and adoringly - chartreuse eyes gleaming prettily against the darkly lit interior of the sleek limousine, and bathing your figure in a green hue. A fond smile etched its way onto his jagged mouth, and he found himself wishing for moments like this to happen more often.

The tender moment between the two of you was cut short however, when the limousine - which had been speeding through the Greed ring at an alarming rate, screeched across a raised speed-bump without actually slowing down. Such an action rocked the car up and down sharply, making the two of you jump against your seats.

Immediately, you had awoken. Wide eyed and startled, you were shocked to find yourself pressed flush against the warm, clothed flesh of your boss - Mammon, the Sin of Greed. Even more shockingly, being held there by his own hand.

Inch by inch you lifted your head up toward Mammon, the striking yellow of your scelra contrasting against his overwhelming green.

He seemed almost as shocked as you were, glaring down nervously to check if you had awoken. The moment he caught wind of your consciousness he retracted his hand, acting as though he had been burnt from a kettle. Once the limb confining you had moved, you quickly slipped yourself away from the larger man, sliding your body across the black leather seat and cornering yourself against the door to the vehicle.

Mammon disliked the space you had created between them, yet he would never say that aloud.

Totally, and utterly mortified, you dragged a lazy hand across your face.

"Mammon!" You squeaked, voice barely above that of a hushed whisper. Your wide eyes remained glued to his figure, whereas his own now averted away from you, embarassed to showcase his own hottly flushed cheeks. "I am-- so- sorry! I didn't mean--"

"S'okay." Mammon chose to interrupt you before you began to ramble. Through the corner of his gaze he could see you wring your hands together nervously, probably as equally as embarassed as he was to be in such a position.

You gave the Sin a quizzical look, brows cocked curiously and lips pursed thin. "It.. is?" You inquired, sounding almost unsure of yourself. As the initial surprise wore off, you found your tone returning to that of its original laziness.

With an assuring nod of his head, Mammon reached a hand out to pull you closer, effortlessly sliding you across the thick leather seat to be within his proximity once more. You squeaked at the action, however, eventually settled down against him.

"Yeah." He spoke, now more assured as he saw you settled against him again. "And we still have a long journey to go. Best not let one big bump interrupt 'ya snooze."

You gave the sin a coy smile, and within moments the two of you returned to the comfortable position you had been in before. Hopefully this time with no interruptions.

WHEEEY I gotta admit i sorta rushed it toward the end cuz m rlly excited to post this one i loved writing it :D i really hope you like it anon!! Ty for sending in an ask! i appreciate it! i cba to spell check it so if you see anything weird its probably cuz of that

#helluva boss x reader #mammon hb #mammon hb x reader #hb mammon #i love him #mammon helluva boss #hb mammon x reader #i would so live in sloth #its the only place 4 me

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lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

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okay but what about robots in disguise?? its not a favorite of mine but it’s still pretty good. russel and his dad are decent lol

Frag that show.

It disrespected TFP on every level and for that it has my eternal hatred and contempt. The humans were annoying, and I HATED how many interesting plot threads there were that were either done poorly or with so little tact that the writing team should have just scrapped it. The designs are tolerable, but I hate how canon TFP characters lost so much of their individuality in their designs (coughtheopticscough). Smokescreen is fricking GONE, which bothers me more than I care to admit. We see the rest of the team enough to be reasonable, but they all appear in ways that don't really make me happy.

Ratchet was done well enough in my opinion. I like his RID design. It suites him. Optimus's design can go die in a hole, they brutalized that mech. Same with Jazz. Frag those stupid shoulder pads.

Grimlock is fun, I appreciate Sideswipe, although his helm hair thingies I think need a redesign to make sense in relation to his alt mode. Strongarm was HORRIBLY underutilized and I hardly saw any character growth in her. Drift and his crew were interesting, but similarly not given much room to grow. I really liked Windblade for the most part, especially the episode where she tries to baby Optimus and comes out having relearned that Op is still a PRIME with MILLIONS OF YEARS OF WAR EXPERIENCE.

The Primes who've done nothing but sit on their rears had NO RIGHT to belittle Optimus at every turn. Nor did the show have the right to make him an idiot for the sake of making Bee look smarter. As @nova--spark has pointed out, the personality Bee got in the show matches Smokescreen better. Bumblebee wouldn't have SUCKED so much at the whole leadership shtick. What happened to all that skill shown in the movie huh? HUH WRITING TEAM????!??!?!

While I am on this train. OPTIMUS DIED SO GOSH DARN LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! He should have stayed deceased, or if they REALLY needed him back, he should have either returned as an Civi or came back with actual issues. Like dang hear me out mate.

Optimus is forcefully returned to life, beats the Fallen with his borrowed power, but then has to actually deal with the consequences of essentially being a walking bomb for a while. Make him start losing plating, make his frame HURT, make him slim down again into the TFP base design. Just, give him a reason to have to sit back and RECOVER. Not this whole half hearted limping around garbage. To add to that, don't baby the mech. Let him stay at base and fulfill the role Ratchet did in TFP. Let him use his knowledge to teach and offer wisdom, plan battles and locate enemies. For Primus's sake he could have gone undercover on Cybertron or something if they really needed him to go be useless elsewhere.

THEY COULD HAVE EVEN HAD AN ARC WITH HIM GIVING THE TEAM A WAKEUP CALL!!! SIdeswipe has no respect for the mission, Grimlock is a fool, Strongarm is too snarky, and Bee in this seems to have largely forgotten about the seriousness except for during key moments. They could have made Optimus a minor antagonist, forcing the team to follow wartime standards since they laid down this plot thread regarding issues between leadership styles and Optimus trying to take control of the operation more than once.

I would have paid money to see Optimus's wartime mentality show itself in the best and worst ways through how he worked with this group of non war vets on a Decepticon capture mission. Maybe even have him use lethal force once or twice, or at least hint at it so that people can be reminded that he is a mech who went to war, killed countless bots, and both drove their people to and saved their people from extinction.

Bee could have had to teach Optimus to calm down. He could have helped eased his leader out of his wartime mindset. Or following that whole council running Cybertron route, Optimus could have had his moment of being very much right when he points out WHY he fought at all and gestures towards the new council. There was SO MUCH potential in this show, so many good threads and interesting Decepticon character that could have given so much depth to the war and the aligned continuity as a whole, but they were almost ALL ignored.

*deep breath*

Alright, sorry about that. I have big feelings in regards to how dirty Optimus was done. Moving on, the Predacons were killed off supposedly and that pisses me off ESPECIALLY because it was done in a fricking offscreen setting. What the hell happened to Predaking??? WHERE DID HE GO????

Starscream's design was rad though, not going to lie.

Where is Shockwave? No seriously where is that fragger? After several years of the map he MUST have an army growing in a tank somewhere.

Soundwave. Why. ARe. YOU. HERE??!?!?!? I love you man but dang you are so out of place. He made sense in the context of trying to get to Megatron, but idk he felt like he deserved better. He should have been the big brain behind the Cons on Earth if you asked me. It would have made everything far more intense, especially if the Cons dont follow Decepticon creed as seen by Soundwave.

The humans were annoying. Sorry they just were.

Fixit is Primus's gift to RID and he's one of the few individuals who makes it less annoying. Idk, I just like him in reasonable doses.

WHERE ARE THE TFP KIDS?! WHY HAS BEE NOT CALLED THEM?? GOOD HEAVENS THERE IS A WHOLE SUBPLOT RIGHT THERE!!!

*yet another deep breath*

Apologies.

To put things simply, I would rather a group of fanfic writers put RID together than whoever the writing team was. They could have made a coherent story with deep characters that actually address the ramifications of millions of years of war and lingering functionalist mindsets. They would have done the lore and the world justice even if there were no main characters popping up.

I think RID has so much potential, but that almost all of it went right down the toilet due to either the higher ups sticking their noses where they don't belong or because the writing team couldn't go two minutes without retconning or otherwise destroying established everything.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #transformers rid2015 #lets try some writing mumbles #rant #bumblebee #team prime #optimus prime #bee team #post war cybertron #fic ideas #sorry but this frickin show made me so mad #I appreciated the ideas #execution deserved to be beheaded

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ckret2 · 8 months

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Chapter 21 of honestly everyone's just sorta used to Bill being the shack's prisoner now (title tbd): Stan & Ford have a birthday party! Bill is not invited. He still manages to find a way to be fiendishly evil.

Also featuring: Wendy deciding what she thinks about "Goldie," the shack's mysterious secret "guest."

####

Mabel slid a piece of paper across the gas station front counter, listing a dozen scratch card serial numbers spread across three different games. "I'd like these numbers in these cards, please!"

The cashier gave the paper a dubious look, then looked at Wendy. "We're not supposed to sell the scratch cards outta order."

"Please?" Wendy asked. "Just a little exception? For us?"

"We really wanna play our lucky numbers," Mabel said. "Plus, I had a vision. In my sleep."

She and Wendy gave him their best big-eyed hopeful pouty looks.

The cashier shrank back. "Well..." He averted his gaze from the adorableness that was Mabel, and sighed. "Just this once. But I don't want to see you two in here with your nonsense again." He started unrolling one of the spools of scratch cards, inspecting the numbers. "These'll be over a hundred dollars."

Wendy winced. "Ooh. Mabel?"

Mabel offered three dollars and a quarter. "That's fine! Can we start with 177 from the beach cards?"

She received the card, depicting a pastel beachy scene next to five miniature bingo boards. She confidently scratched off the card to reveal its winning numbers, pointed at the fourth bingo board where she'd just gotten bingo, and said, "That's $200! Our payout, please."

The cashier took the card, inspected the numbers, and stared at Mabel in amazement. She grinned at him. Wordlessly, he opened his cash register, pulled out several twenties, and offered them over.

"Thank you!" Mabel accepted the money and pointed at the paper. "The rest of our cards, please?"

As they left with eleven scratch cards, Mabel handed Wendy three twenties—"Here! For helping!"—and stuck the rest of the change in her pocket.

"Dude. That was awesome. You were so cool in there, like—" Wendy put on her coolest, most unruffled expression. "'Our payout, please.'"

"That's just the kind of rock star I am." Mabel put the scratch cards in her bike's basket. "Thanks for the help, Wendy!"

"Sure, any time." Especially if she got a surprise $60 out of it. "Heading back to the shack?"

"Yeah! I've gotta finish decorating for the party!" Mabel waved as she took off down the road. "See you then!"

"See you." She guessed that meant she wasn't invited to hang until the party started. Given the touchy situation inside the shack, no surprises there.

She wondered what Goldie had to do with Mabel's interesting trick with the scratch cards. She was sure there was something.

####

Bill leaned into the kitchen. "Hey! How's that cake coming along?"

Mabel stopped arranging dozens of candles in the frosting to point at the door. "Out, Bill! Nobody's getting cake until the party!"

Dipper said, "You don't even deserve a slice."

"Agree to disagree!" Bill said. "But if you don't give me one anyway, I'll annoy you about it for weeks."

"He can have a slice at the party," Mabel said. "The cake's big enough." A couple of overcrowded candles spilled off the edge of the cake. Mabel picked them up and carefully stuck them back in.

Bill fought back a laugh. "Are you sure about all those candles? If you light 'em all up at once, you'll burn off everyone's eyebrows," he said. "But unfortunately, you'd also melt the frosting."

"The frosting's already a mess," Mabel said, peering at the barely-visible HAPPY BIRTHDAY STAN & FORD hidden beneath the forest of candles. "But Soos doesn't have any of those number-shaped candles, so..."

"Roman numerals," Bill said.

"Oooh." Mabel looked at the cake thoughtfully, and started pulling out candles. "How do you make 62?"

"LXII. Fifty-ten-one-one," Bill said, then shot a grin at Dipper—who was glaring at Bill for answering before he could. "Isn't that right, smart guy?"

"Yeah," Dipper grumbled.

"You kids take the credit if they ask about the candles," Bill said. "They'll just get grumpy if they know I had any influence on the decorations."

Mabel carefully tilted the bottom leg of the L just enough to keep the tip out of the frosting, and started smoothing out the rest of the candle-pockmarked surface. "Now I've got enough empty frosting to add some decorations!" Mabel said. "I don't have enough time to draw something complicated. Maybe rainbows?"

Dipper shook his head. "I don't think either of them would be into that."

"Draw gold bars," Bill said.

Mabel blew a raspberry. "That's what you'd want on a cake!"

"No, I'd want me on a cake. Stanley likes gold! Stanford should like gold more, you could help him develop a taste for it."

"No."

Dipper suggested, "Maybe you could draw gambling stuff on Stan's side of the cake? Since they couldn't have their birthday party in Vegas like he wanted." Dipper shot a sideways glance at the reason they had to stay in Gravity Falls. (Bill shrugged. It wasn't like he'd asked the Stan twins to stay in town.) "You could do poker chips or playing cards or—"

"Dice!" Mabel said. "Dipper that's perfect, they both like dice! We can put normal dice on Grunkle Stan's side and nerdy dice on Grunkle Ford's—"

"Oh, that's great! I've got my DD&MD dice bag in the attic!"

"I'll look in the board game closet!"

Dipper and Mabel took off.

Bill waited until he was sure they were gone.

He checked out the kitchen window for witnesses, then picked up a dozen abandoned birthday candles, licked off the frosting, and hid the candles in his hoodie's hood. Too bad they hadn't left a matchbook out, but Bill knew a fun little trick with an empty aluminum can and a tube of toothpaste that would work just fine.

When the kids returned and Mabel stuffed the remaining forty-odd candles back in their box, they never noticed any were missing.

####

Mabel had put herself in charge of the guest list. Which explained why, along with Stan and Ford's actual friends, all Mabel's friends had been invited; as well as—among other people—the mayor ("he's like the Mystery Shack's best customer, Grunkle Stan!"), Shmebulock ("Jeff said Shmebulock stole the Journal 4 you started last fall, I was hoping he might gift it back"), and the Hand Witch and her boyfriend. ("Whaaat, Grunkle Ford you met her TOO?! What a coincidence! Dipper, did you know he met—oh, you did. I didn't read those pages!") It would have been a lot more awkward if not for the fact that the birthday boys were awed and humbled that so many people had attended knowing they were coming to a birthday party for Stan and Ford Pines, and none of the guests had even been bribed.

When Soos and Melody helped Mabel carry out the birthday cake, Ford laughed at the sight of it. "Did you make Roman numerals out of candles? How clever! Stanley, do you know what Roman—"

"Yeah, yeah. I watch the Football Bowl, you know," Stan said. "Honestly, I was expecting this thing to be covered in candles."

"I almost went that route," Mabel said. "But I thought I'd save that kind of firepower for the Fourth of July."

"Hah! That's my girl."

"Happy Birthday" was sung, candles were blown out, and the party lined up to get their cake. Mabel cut a slice, loaded it on a paper plate, then glanced toward the attic window. "I'll be right back! I've gotta use the bathroom. Don't open my presents until I'm back!"

She trotted into the house, taking the cake, a napkin, and a plastic spoon with her.

####

Bill met Mabel at the top of the stairs and scooped the cake out of her hands. "You're my hero, star girl." He carried it halfway back to his window seat, stopped mid-step, and asked, "You got a piece with my name on it?"

"I got the slice with the 'Birt' and took off the extra frosting!"

"Oh," Bill said. "Heh. That's—cute." And he looked so much like he was trying to pretend he wasn't genuinely touched by the gesture, that Mabel didn't have the heart to tell him she'd only thought of it halfway up the stairs.

He flopped back in his usual window seat post—where, Mabel couldn't help but notice, he had a perfect view of the party happening outside without him. She grimaced. "I'm sorry you can't come to the party," she said. "But you did torture and try to murder the birthday boys... and most of the party guests... and left half of them with lingering trauma..."

"Speaking of, how's your therapist doing?"

"Oh, good, she's good. I think she's gonna write a paper about Mabeland."

Bill fell silent, staring out the window. Mabel almost went downstairs—when he said, "You know, I was the only person who gave Stanford a gift on his thirtieth birthday."

Mabel turned back around so fast she almost tripped on the top step. It wasn't often she got a double dose of Bill lore and Grunkle lore. "You were?"

"He didn't make new friends in Oregon and he didn't keep up with his old friends from college. His parents mailed him a gift, but it got here a week late. So I taught him a couple spells to see the stars during the day and keep rain from landing on him, and told him where to be in Portland that afternoon if he wanted to pick up a free cake from a fancy bakery."

"Aww. That was... nice of you." But Mabel had to hesitate before saying it, automatically wondering what Bill's motives had been for giving the gifts and what his motive now was for sharing this.

Bill waved a hand dismissively. "Ahh, they were parlor tricks. They're easy, flashy cantrips that impress humans but don't do any harm," he said. "Not much harm, anyway. That night he told me all about how he was the only human to see his zodiac constellation on his birthday. The genius spent all day staring at the sun so he could see the stars!" He laughed.

But it quickly petered out. "And now I'm personally banned from his birthday party. Funny, huh?"

Maybe Bill was trying to get Mabel to pity him; but she kinda thought he was just pitying himself. She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Losing friends is tough," she said. She paused. "And that's why we should be nice to them."

Bill cracked up so loudly Mabel half expected the party outside to hear him. "Okay, Glory Unicorn! I've learned today's moral about friendship. Get outta here. See if I ever tell you anything again." But he was grinning as he shooed her off.

####

When Mabel came back cakeless, Dipper gave her a dark look, but said nothing.

"Are we opening gifts yet?" Mabel picked up a box and flung an arm around Dipper's shoulder. "You've gotta open this one first! It's from both of us to both of you!" She waved it at Stan and Ford until they took it together.

Ford pointed at the card that said, "To our Grunkles, from your gniece and gnephew!" "That isn't how you spell niece and nephew?" Stan elbowed him.

"Nope!" Mabel said. "But it's how you abbreviate great-niece and great-nephew."

"Ah, I see! Very creative."

"Nice recovery," Stan muttered. Ford elbowed him back. Together they tore off the wrapping paper and opened their box.

Inside were two more boxes, each small enough to hold in one hand—a square one labeled "Stan" and a long narrow one labeled "Ford."

Stan opened his box and pulled out a thick gold chain with a coin dangling from it. Engraved on the coin in sloppy text were the words "#1 Grunkle."

Soos held up a hand. "I did the engraving! First try."

Mabel pointed at the coin. "We made it out of pirate treasure that we have for reasons that we can't talk about! There's a skull on the back!"

They'd hung it from his favorite gold chain. He'd been missing it for a week—and he'd never even suspected the kids. How about that. Choked up, Stan said, "It's—it's great." He took off the chain he was currently wearing, chucked it into the bushes, and put on his gift. "C'mere, you two." He wrapped his arms around Dipper and Mabel.

Soos held his arms out hopefully. Stan rolled his eyes, but waved him over for a hug too.

Ford opened his box. "A pen?"

Dipper said, "It has an ergonomic grip, can take standard ink refills, writes super smoothly—I tested it out myself—makes a very satisfying click, and it's red with gold trim to match your journals."

Mabel said, "I helped pick out the design!"

"... And that's why it's also sparkly."

"I didn't do the engraving on that one," Soos said. "We had a lotta spare pirate coins but only one pen, so. They got it done at the mall."

Ford rotated the pen in his hand until he spotted the (more professional-looking) engraving on the barrel, filled in with gold. "Mine says #1 Grunkle too?"

Dipper said, "C'mon, we're not gonna choose between you two."

Stan said, "Oh, I see how it is! Trying to butter us both up, are you?" He reached under Dipper's hat to ruffle his hair. Smiling, Ford carefully slid his gift into his coat's breast pocket next to his usual pen.

####

When Bill saw that Mabel was back outside, he got up, left the rest of his cake on the window seat, scooted aside a storage box sitting forgotten in a corner of the attic, and pried a loose board from the wall.

He took his stolen candles out of his hood, wrapped them in the party napkin Mabel had given him, and stashed them in a plastic sandwich bag where he'd already stowed a crushed cider can, its edges torn and sharp.

Then he re-hid the bag, fixed the wall, replaced the storage box, gently brushed some cobwebs over the floor to hide the trail in the dust where he'd scooted the box, and turned away from his hiding spot.

To see a gnome wearing a journal like a backpack.

They stared at each other.

"You didn't see anything," said Bill.

"Shmebulock," said Shmebulock.

Bill eyed Shmebulock, the staircase, the window—and then dropped into a crouch, knees and feet spread apart like a sumo wrestler, teeth bared.

Shmebulock cracked his knuckles.

Five minutes later, Bill added Journal 4 to his hiding spot, with a mental note to find a new hiding spot the gnomes didn't know about later.

Unfortunately, Shmebulock escaped with Bill's cake.

####

Wendy squinted up at the blonde shape in the attic window. "You know—all this last week, I kept thinking I saw someone up there. I just assumed it was my imagination," she said. "Guess Goldie didn't get invited to the birthday party, huh?"

"Nope," Dipper said. "And for good reason."

Wendy laughed. "Yeah, sounds it."

Dipper glanced toward his grunkles. At the moment, Ford was opening a cheap set of watercolor paints and giving Mabel an exasperated look. ("I thought we could try them out together! And hate them together!" "All right, that might be fun.") He lowered his voice and picked at his cake. "So. You found out the big secret, huh?"

"Yup," Wendy said. She lightly punched Dipper's shoulder. "Hey—don't look so glum, man. I'm not mad you didn't tell me. There's some kind of family drama and a missing person case involved. I get it—you don't talk about that kind of stuff outside the family."

"Yeah, hah. Right," Dipper said. "So, what do you think of... Goldie?"

Wendy glanced up at the figure in the window. "We didn't talk a whole bunch before Goldie and Stan started arguing about plagiarism," she said, "but I got that she's some kind of wildcard paranormal investigator who gives off insane grifter energy. And seems really mentally messed up from being trapped in another dimension, but like, the kind of messed up that probably makes you fun at parties?" She was already mentally playing Goldie off of her friend group, trying to figure out how well she'd mesh with them. She seemed like the kind of person who'd be into some harmless trespassing and recreational vandalism. "How old is Goldie? She was working on a Ph.D., so that's what, mid-20s? Mid-20s but actually mid-50s after not aging for thirty years? Honestly, if I just met her on the street I would've thought she was like, 15. She does not look her age." Maybe it was the lack of makeup?

Under his breath, Dipper muttered, "You have no idea." He glanced away from Wendy, stuffed a large forkful of cake in his mouth, and mumbled to himself, "How much should I say? Sharing too much could be dangerous, but if I don't say anything..." Mumble, mumble.

Wendy would never tell Dipper how funny it was that he monologued to himself and hoped nobody would notice. Usually she'd politely ignore him, but if there was something dangerous... She lightly elbowed him. "Dipper. Come on," she said. "I can tell something's eating you. You can trust me."

"Ugh, I know, but..." Dipper glanced again at the rest of the birthday party—just far enough to be out of earshot, currently entranced by some thingamajig Fiddleford had gifted the Stans—and let out a heavy sigh. Voice low, he said, "Okay, Wendy, listen. For your own safety, you need to know that Goldie is way worse than whatever you heard about him last night. And I can't tell you why, because of reasons I also can't tell you—believe me, I wish I could tell you, but—don't trust him, okay?" Dipper gave her an earnest, pleading look. "Just don't. He's dangerous. That's all I can say."

It figured that even after Wendy learned the big secret, she'd just find another, smaller secret hidden underneath. Like a matryoshka doll. (She quietly made note of the "he" and wondered if Goldie had been part of the queer scene in the 80s, or if he'd only figured himself out while he was in ghost land.) "I'm assuming he's dangerous for Weird Spooky Paranormal reasons?"

"Yeah," Dipper said, teeth grit. "Yeah, basically."

He wanted to tell her more, she wanted to know more, and she was ready to play 20 questions on Goldie's backstory. Picking through what she'd learned last night for clues, Wendy asked, "Is it connected to Ford's research? All the weird magic stuff he got into?"

"Um." Dipper shrugged uncertainly. "Y...yeah? But... bigger than that?"

"Is it portal stuff." What was the most dangerous thing she knew of that was connected to the portal. "Is it Bill stuff."

Dipper let out an anguished groan, pulled off his hat, and buried his face in it. "I can't tell you more than I already have!"

"Oh my god it's Bill stuff."

Dipper eloquently said, "MRRGHF."

"Okay got it, so Goldie was some kind of Bill groupie or discovered how to summon him or something. Something like that. I don't need to know the details! But he's totally Bill-adjacent."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yep." Dipper nodded emphatically. "Bill-adjacent is... the best way to describe Goldie."

"But Bill's gone, right? So Goldie's like a cultist without a cult leader. Doesn't that mean he's harmless now?" Wendy asked. "Or do you think he's gonna try to cause the apocalypse in honor of his boss or whatever."

Dipper tugged his hat back on his head and straightened it out. "I'm sure he'd try to end the world again if he could, but... we're all still trying to figure out what he can do."

"So, domestic terrorism risk. Cool," Wendy said. "Y'know, I sorta expected to run into a guy like that in the shack eventually, but I always thought they'd be here because of Stan, not Ford." She rolled her eyes. "I'll warn you if he starts talking about ending the world or anything."

"Thanks, Wendy." Dipper glanced uneasily toward the birthday party. (They were still distracted, currently trying to douse the flamethrower on Fiddleford's birthday gift. It was trying to eliminate the competitor gifts.) "Just... don't tell anybody else, okay? If the town finds out that Goldie is—you know—Bill-adjacent..."

"Relax." She pantomimed zipping her mouth. "I'm not gonna organize an angry mob."

She glanced up at the attic window. Goldie was still up there, staring down at the party. He noticed Wendy staring and made a face at her.

She made the same face back, and saw him silently laughing. Okay, he had bad taste in friends, obviously; but Goldie seemed kinda cool in an unhinged way. From what Wendy had gathered, Bill had conned and then betrayed half the people she knew—and if the Pines had only just managed to get Goldie back on this plane of reality, months after Weirdmageddon, that meant Bill hadn't bothered to rescue him when he could, so Goldie was just another victim. Maybe he just needed to be reintegrated into society.

Dipper said, "Hey, Stan just poured punch on the robot and it made the fire worse. Do you think we should help?"

Wendy looked at the fire—and looked up at the fire. She was moving before she spoke. "Yeah, let's do something about that."

They rejoined the rest of the party, and Wendy put Goldie out of her mind.

####

Ford stared at the ring on his left sixth finger.

Welcome back, the Hand Witch had said.

Thirty years ago, he'd met her at a carnival. She'd told him that he'd chosen the wrong allies and would doom himself for it. She'd given him a ring with a blue cabochon and told him that if it ever turned black, there was no hope for him.

He'd dismissed her as a phony palm reader; and, the night he'd decided Bill was right about Fiddleford not being bold enough to follow through with the portal project, the ring had turned black, and he'd thrown it in the lake.

Now here it was on his finger again.

He didn't think her a phony now. Everything she'd told him had been true. And anyway, it was hard to doubt she had real magic when she spent half the party trying to stop two small disembodied hands from escaping her pockets to visit Mabel.

"Why are you giving this back to me?"

"It's your birthday! And I thought it might be useful."

"For what? Am I in danger?"

"I don't know, I'd have to give you another reading to see." She had pulled a cartomancy deck from her pocket. "Do you want me to?" The card on the bottom of the deck had been a triangle with a snake slithering through its eye socket.

Ford hadn't wanted a reading. He knew now that what he'd called superstition back at that carnival might be a legitimate form of prophecy he simply didn't understand; but he was tired of living his life by signs and portends.

All the same, it was comforting to see that his ring was blue.

Ford's view of the ring was blocked by Stan shoving over the "Get Out Of One Misdemeanor Free" coupon Mayor Cutebiker had given as his birthday gift. "Hey, do you think I'd get in trouble if I made a buncha copies of this?"

Ford took the coupon and inspected it thoughtfully. "If you do get in trouble... a coupon counterfeiting charge couldn't possibly be worse than a misdemeanor, could it?"

"That's what I like to hear!"

It had been a surprisingly long day—and, by far, the best birthday either of them had had in well over forty years. (Was it really that long?) Now they were retired to the parlor Soos and Abuelita had converted into a double guest room, sitting on their beds facing each other as they got ready for sleep.

There was a knock at the door. Ford stood. "Coming—" He opened the door to see Bill's grinning face, a foot from his own. "Oh. You." Ford resisted the urge to step back, in case Bill interpreted as an invitation to come in.

"Hiya, birthday boy!" Bill's gaze immediately drifted down to Ford's coat pocket. "Hey—new pen? I like the sparkle, adds a little pizazz."

"What do you want, Cipher."

"Just to hand this over." Bill pressed a couple of envelopes into Ford's chest, and kept them pinned there with a fingertip until Ford reluctantly took them. "I knew you'd hate getting something from me at your party, so just for you I waited until all the festivities were over. You're welcome."

Ford studied the envelopes. They were two pieces of yellow construction paper that had been folded into envelope shape, and written on each one, in lurching crayon text that drifted up and down, was "Stanford" and "Stanley". "You made cards?"

"You're flattered."

"I most certainly am not."

"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'" Bill shrugged. "Hey, they're your birthday gifts. Toss them in the fire if that makes you happiest. You just might wanna open them first—you know, to make sure I didn't write a fire-activated explosion spell on the inside."

Stan grabbed his envelope out of Ford's hand and eyed it in deep suspicion. "And why did you make these?"

"Because it's your birthday. Come on! Why am I explaining this, it's your species's ritual."

"I mean why are you doing it? We all hate each other. We're planning your execution, here," Stan said. "So what's your angle?"

"What do you need my measurements for, you pervert."

"ALL right—" Stan stepped toward Bill, cracking his knuckles, and was only stopped by Ford's hand across his chest.

Bill leaned back against the hallway's opposite wall. "Whoa! Consider this a peace offering! You know—'no hard feelings for all the murder, attempted or planned'! I can be a polite house guest, even if I'm not a voluntary one." Bill smiled wryly, "I'm trapped on an alien planet where I know less than a dozen people and all of them hate me. It gets boring." He looked directly in Ford's eyes. "And we've got history. Is it so hard to believe I might want to be friends again?"

This time, Stan had to put a hand across Ford's chest.

Ford said, "You're up to something."

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"Statement."

"Then you don't want an answer. Enjoy your gifts! Or don't, I'm not your boss." Bill waved, and slunk around the corner back toward the living room.

Ford shut the door. He sat on his bed, examined the envelope, and glanced at Stan, who was sitting on his bed doing the same thing.

They grimaced at each other.

"Okay," Stan said. "Is this more dangerous if we do open it or don't open it?" He hefted his envelope in his hand. "This thing's pretty heavy for just a card."

"Is it?" Ford's wasn't very heavy. He turned on a lamp on a bedside table and held the envelope up in front of it, trying to see through the construction paper. "I think he's counting on us to open these. I doubt he set a trap that will activate if we leave it closed—it's not his style."

"So, what do we think. Some kinda hypnotic mind-control magic that's activated by reading it? Or is he just trying to bribe us into liking him better?"

"He probably doesn't have hypnotic mind-control magic. If he did, why would he have spent so long trying to manipulate humans into doing his bidding?"

"I dunno, maybe he's stupid."

Testily, Ford said, "He's not stupid."

"No—listen, I've been thinking about this for months," Stan said. "You spent thirty years hopping between a zillion different dimension, right? If there's already safe portals out there, why'd he spend so long tricking someone into building a crummy one that'd destroy the universe, instead of using one of those? He's gotta be stupid!"

"I've... wondered the same thing about the portal," Ford admitted grudgingly. "But, no—I've seen him use so many roundabout tricks to manipulate minds that if he were capable of overt mind control, I'm sure he'd have used it by now."

"Fine, so mind control's off the table. But we're probably safer if we leave these alone. If we open them, they might be an annoying attempt to kiss up to us, or they might be dangerous." Stan waved his envelope like a fan. "And, we're gonna open them anyway, because not knowing will kill us, right?"

In his youth, Ford had arrogantly looked down on Pandora. "Of course we're going to open them."

They opened their envelopes.

They both contained a sheet of type paper folded in half with nothing on the front and messages written inside. Ford's read, "Stanford– I'd tell you to go to hell, but you'd barely be there long enough for it to be worth the trip. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Charming. Particularly out of the heel who'd just claimed he wanted to be friends.

"Hey, what is this?" Stan held his letter out for Ford to see: "Stanley– You were only the accomplice. I won't hold a grudge. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Stan pointed at the last word, "Is this some kind of curse?"

"A signature. Bill's real name isn't 'Bill Cipher'—it's just one of many nicknames he uses when communicating with humans. And, when writing to people who know him well, he prefers to sign with that nickname. It's pronounced déos." It meant awe—whether manifested in the form of fear or reverence. And it probably was no coincidence that Bill had picked a word that, to the untrained ear, sounded so much like the Latin deus—god.

Once, long ago, waking up to find his own hand had written a letter signed by "Awe" in a foreign alphabet had filled Ford with awe. Now... well, now it looked a little try-hard, didn't it. "Between you and me, I think Bill likes that signature best because it starts with a triangle." In Bill's handwriting, the delta looked unusually equilateral.

"Really fond of his own face, isn't he," Stan said, digging in the envelope for the rest of his "gift"—and he pulled out a handful of scratch cards. "What the...?"

How the heck had Bill gotten his hands on those? Ford checked to see if his envelope had the same—and came out with five pieces of notebook paper instead, still tattered on the edge from being torn out of a spiral notebook, covered front and back with writing—multiple languages, some inhuman, with a smattering of complex sigils and symbols. The first line on the first page read "Spell to Resurrect Fowl (chicken, turkey, duck, etc.—funny at dinner parties!)" Ford slapped the pages face down on his nightstand without reading the next line.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

"Magic," Ford said, voice flat with irritation.

"A trap—?"

"No. Magic for me. Spells I don't know. The kind of knowledge I'd—document in my journals."

Stan processed that. He tossed his scratch cards down on his own nightstand. "Lemme get this straight," he said. "Less than two weeks since he tried to kill us, with no access to the outside world and no resources at his disposal but his stupid wits—without even getting his hands on a freaking envelope—he somehow managed to get us both thoughtful, considerate gifts that are deeply relevant to our personal interests and passions! Is that about right?"

"It seems to be, yes."

"That jerk! I oughta ring his neck!"

Ford nodded in agreement. "I didn't know you're into scratch cards." He tamped down the urge to lecture Stan on the statistical improbability of making a profit.

"See, if even you didn't know, now I'm even madder that he does!" Stan groaned in frustration. "I kicked the habit. Still like playing 'em if I get them as a gift."

"Hmm." That was all right, then. Couldn't lose money on scratch cards if somebody else had spent the money.

They glared together at their thoughtful, relevant, deeply unwanted gifts, trying to decide what to do about them. Stan was the first to let out a resigned sigh and snatch his up. "What the heck. They're already paid for, I'm not gonna throw away potential free money just because it came from him." He fished around in his discarded pants pockets for a quarter. "But I'm not gonna enjoy myself!" He flipped through the cards, noting they were each labeled in a corner from 1/11 to 11/11, and muttered, "Why'd he draw triangles on some of the numbers?"

Well, if Stan had caved into his curiosity... Back into the box, Pandora, and perhaps we'll find hope at the bottom.

"Mabel must've helped him get these," Stan said. "It's the only way. And these cards have glitter and unicorns all over them." He scratched off his first card, and said, "Hey, three bunny faces—how 'bout that? I made thirty bucks already."

"At least it's not a total waste," Ford muttered, skimming the pages before him.

It was a treasure trove.

A spell to uncook food. The cipher to decrypt the Voynich manuscript. A potion to change eye color. A river stone submerged not five miles away that, when dry, hovered. A ritual involving five hours of meditation and a lot of mushrooms that opened up psychic communication with Earth's nearest alien neighbors. An illusion to make the floor look like lava. ("Good for games if you're very bored and oppressed by gravity.") The names of five hitherto-unknown demon nobles, the sigils to summon and bind them, the fields of knowledge and political influence in which they were most helpful, and a few personal tips on how to best to twist their arms into doing a favor. A complicated way to grind glasses that let one see, depending on prescription strength, anywhere from several seconds to several minutes into the future. And on and on.

And Bill didn't just toss down a few mystical-sounding words and move on: in a few terse sentences after each spell, he hinted at the principles that made them work (freely mixing magic, physics, and metaphysics), the people who'd created or discovered the trick (whether human, inhuman, unearthly, or transdimensional), where Ford could go digging to independently verify the information if he didn't want to take Bill's word for it—and what other, greater things someone might use these tricks to do, if only they fully understood how they worked, if only they had the right teacher. Bill had filled the margins, scribbled extra info in red pen in between the rows of black to double the amount of text he could cram on each line. Ford could fill an entire journal just by copying, disentangling, and expanding on everything Bill had packed into this dense five-page grimoire.

Bill had given Ford more in this letter than he had in all the years he'd been posing as Ford's friend—excluding those accursed portal blueprints. He'd shared the kinds of things Ford had always dreamed his Muse might show him. He gave it away like a free sample to entice a new customer. Five pages of deep secrets meant nothing to Bill and his infinite knowledge. He could have done this all along. He only did it now to try to bribe Ford into sparing his life: see what you could miss out on?

As Ford read the pages, his hands trembled in rage.

"—two hundred dollars, two hundred fifty dollars," Stan muttered. "Those are the biggest yet." He waved the scratch cards at Ford. "I don't understand it! That's eight winners in a row! I've made almost a thousand bucks just by scratching these off—that's not luck! How's he do it? What kinda weird alien magic gives you scratch card telepathy?"

"I don't know. I had no idea he could identify winning scratch cards," Ford said. "But I'm not surprised."

Stan shook his head in amazement, and scratched the next card.

Ford crushed the notepaper pages into a ball.

And he smoothed them back out. Bill was a monster, but this knowledge was precious.

He looked at the Hand Witch's ring like it might tell him the correct course; but no matter which way his thoughts swayed, the gem remained a steady blue.

"This card's a thousand bucks all by itself," Stan said. "I've never won a thousand in my life. There's no way..." He scratched furiously at the last card, revealing symbols patterned after an array of gems and jewelry. "Five hundred!" Scratch scratch scratch— "Times five?! That's—!" He seized up all his cards and quickly tallied his winnings. "That's a total of nearly five thousand dollars!" He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Who needs Vegas? This monster's been better to me than she ever has!"

"Stanley, that's exactly what he wants you to think," Ford snapped. "He's giving us everything we want so we'll be more reluctant to kill him. This is less than chump change to him! Don't forget that his goal—"

"I know! I'm not stupid, I know what he's doing. Lotto numbers aren't worth the safety of the universe. But sh—shoot, Stanford, he handed me five grand for free and I'm keeping it."

"Fine," Ford said. "Fine. I suppose there's no point in throwing it away on principle."

"Darn straight!"

Ford glowered down at his underhanded "gift"—this little glimpse behind the veil into the mysteries of the universe. His whole chest bubbled and burned with rage; but beneath it—twinkling like a lonely star, twinkling like hope at the bottom of Pandora's box—was something he hadn't felt since Bill betrayed him.

Awe.

It was like waking up to a letter from his Muse.

This was who Bill could be—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—and he chose not to be. Why?! When this was so easy for him—why did he have to be what he was instead?

This charitable act only made the true Bill look even worse by contrast.

Ford re-smoothed the pages, carefully folded them in half, and stored them back in their construction paper envelope. He'd leave them there until he'd independently researched every one of these spells and ensured they did what Bill said they did and that there weren't any hidden side-effects.

And then he'd see about adding this information to his current journal.

No point throwing it away on principle.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd deeply appreciate hearing your thoughts! Thanks!)

#(me drawing Ford: *checks image reference a dozen times for tiny details*)#(me drawing Stan: *scrawls him out without consulting a reference once* Yeah that's grunkle shaped. Post it.)#grunkle stan #grunkle ford #bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

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gabessquishytum · 5 months

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Regency/forbidden love idea!

Omega hob is being presented to society. Of course, everyone tells him he’s lucky he gets to debut at all. His family is new money and hob isn’t exactly seen as a traditional beauty. While he has a pleasing form, good childbearing hips, he’s beat up alphas who thought he’d be an easy lay and now he has a reputation.

Omega dream is the jewel of the season, the beautiful third sibling of the richest family in town, the endless and everyone is vying for his hand. He is bored as hell with alphas trying to impress him, expecting him to swoon into their arms. He’s known as an ice prince and the prize everyone alpha thinks they can have.

But they don’t know that dream is in love already.

He didn’t expect it. He didn’t ask for it. He was set on being a good omega and doing his duty. And then he met hob. The minute he saw him Dream’s senses came alive. He’d never thought he was attracted to anyone. But hob’s smile, his scent, his warm laugh—Dream realizes maybe he’s never wanted alphas. Maybe he is meant to love an omega. and hob is no better. He catches a glimpse of Dream and it’s over, his heart is dream’s.

The first time, they’re on holiday together by the sea—no need for a chaperone when they’re both omegas— and dream can’t help himself. He steals into hob’s bed, heart in his chest and hob is already awake, like he was waiting for him. He kisses him like he’s a starving man.

Hob spreads dream out and eats him out until dream comes screaming and then dream fucks him until he’s sobbing into the mattress. And they swear under the sheets and stars that they will elope. As soon as they have enough money and a plan.

Dream is pretty sure he can put off an engagement. Death is helping. She’s got their parents convinced that no one has offered a high enough bride price. So far no one is good enough for dream.

Hob isn’t worried for himself. He doesn’t expect anyone to make an offer for him. But he lives in fear of some alpha making a claim for dream. Everyone wants him.

Finally they have enough. Dream’s estranged brother has offered to shelter them. Dream writes to hob with the good news and packs a bag. That night, he goes to wait in the woods, where hob knows to meet him.

But hob doesn’t show up. Dream waits hours, heart pounding, suddenly sure that hob never meant to come, that hob doesn’t love him. until suddenly their friend Matthew comes running out of the night.

“He isn’t coming,” he gasps out and dream feels his heart shatter (it must be true then, dream must be unlovable)— “he was caught,” matthew continues. “They’re arranging his match now, he is being mated in the morning. They’re looking for you too. I’m sorry, dream, you have to run. ”

Holy shit!! Amazing romance novel material right here!!

I totally want to see Dream launching a rescue mission (with Matthew). But in the short term, he really does have no choice but to run. If they're both caught then things will be even worse - he needs to get away from this place if he's going to rescue Hob. So he reluctantly flees via the mail coach, biting the back of his hand to stop himself from screaming in anguish as he gets further from his love.

Meanwhile, Hob is having NONE of this imprisonment in his room and forced mating thing that his family have planned. He's been locked in, and the windows are barred, but he does have the time to develop a plan. And to sharpen the little knife that he normally uses to open envelopes to a very sharp point.

He acts submissive and ashamed when the alpha he's been given to is brought into the room. A quick transaction was made overnight - there are lists of alphas waiting for mates, it wasn't hard to find one at short notice. Hob clasps his little knife and he waits.

He doesn't murder his new alpha, although he thinks he'd be entitled to - forced mating is technically illegal. Its self defence for Hob to slash at the alpha's face when he tries to mount Hob. Self defence for him to run down the stairs, brandishing his knife. To flee through the kitchen, steal a horse, and ride away at top speed.

He wouldnt make it very far if it wasn't for the fact that Dream is waiting for him with money, falsified papers and a plan. Hob finds him waiting at the first coaching inn on the road to London, and they immediately head north as fast as possible. Hob is still wearing his bloodied shirt, and Dream is ashamed to admit that he finds it rather sexy. Hob just smells so good with all his wrath and vengeance on display.

After that, it's bizarrely easy. Hob cuts his hair, Dream starts dressing a little more conservatively. They move to a nice little hotel by the seaside, with Hob pretending to be Dream’s companion. Two omegas living a quiet life and sharing a room is far from a scandal. They even go abroad and finally get to travel like they always dreamed of. And oh, they make love at least 3 times each day. They simply can't keep their hands off each other. Hob wakes up each day and nuzzles his way down to eat his beloved out - the very best way to say good morning. And when the heats sync up, the pleasure is unmatched by anything.

Death and Matthew both visit them when it's safe to do so, and even they can tell: omegas or not, those two were made for each other. They'd find each other in any universe - it's fate!

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw omegaverse #cw threats #cw blood

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mortal-kombat-1 · 3 months

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what is your opinion on johnny cage's character?

Oh boy, this took me a good bit to think on and type out, lmao. Like, would have it all ready to post then think of something else to add. Thank you draft option 🙏

Overall, I think he's more complex than a lot of folks make him out to be. Yeah, its really easy to just think he's the comedic relief only when the game(s) kinda lead you to believe that. You can't really judge him based on one timeline since the plots/stories keep changing with each game (even if you add in the comics and movies). There's no connecting the dots when it comes to MK lore, lol. You gotta be fairly new to the franchise to think otherwise if I'm being very honest.

But given this blog is primarily MK1 Johnny, that's the timeline/version I'll jot my thoughts out for.

He's obviously not a parent in this timeline unlike 10 and 11, so we can scratch even mentioning that. But, he's once again married, not to Sonya but to Cris. Even so, his ego, money spending and his need to be the prime center of attention gets the better of him causing things to sour in his marriage. Of course ending in divorce. I won't stick up for him, he has his flaws, Cris was definitely in the right to divorce 'em. She deserved to be treated better. I'm not saying the man didn't care for her, it was pretty damn obvious that he did. He's very protective and regrets how he's done her -- he made that clear in a couple of intro's. I really felt like he got into the movie business not only because it was something he always wanted to do, but to make a better life for the both of them at some point, but I think he kinda let it all get to his head and let slip away the reason he was initially doing it all for. So in short: He's gotta take responsibility for his own actions. Nobody else is to blame but himself. But even with that being said, he struggled, obviously an alcoholic -- he's mentioned recovery to Ashrah in one of their intro's; though I'm really convinced he started drinking to forget about certain details of his past... and maybe stress because Hollywood. We don't really get enough information on his childhood other than whats mentioned in intro's with other characters. And even then, they never really seem good nor happy. So I like to think his need to be a people pleaser really stems from his parents. That is in no way me trying to make an excuse for his character, though. The man isn't a child/teen, and I've seen people on here and elsewhere, thinking he's in his 20's or early 30's. And after going through some of the files in the game, a lot of the things he's won or collected were from the 90's -- awards being more specific. So I tend to say he's in his early 40's at the youngest. Also, he's mentioned getting someone younger to take on his role so yeah.

I like how even though others might find his tactics and odd sense of humor (which happens 99% at the wrong time) annoying, they still want him there. And he knows that, the damn smirking gives it away. Does he mature in any way in this timeline -- eventually, but I wouldn't say he's changed completely or he wouldn't be Johnny Cage. I'd say he finally realized there's more to life than money and fame when you got the right people surrounding you, and he gets that by the time the game ends.

Also, that damn boopable nose... they ever change that I'm gonna riot.

I could keep going on about this idiot, but I gotta stop there or I will never shut up sdfghjkl;. It's one of those "I see so much of myself in this character and I'm gonna glue myself to them" type of thing.

#**#I'm sorry if I went in circles or if there's typos scattered about in this; I said to hell with proof reading lol

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necros-writing-stuff · 6 months

Note

(Spoiler warning about some really obscure scenes in-game. Also, tw: mentions of human trafficking) Do you think Eden and PC met in the past? Maybe when PC was younger? Ivory Wraith refers to Eden as an “old friend you never knew”, and Eden mentions the fishing magazine he/she reads was given to him/her by “an old friend”. If PC asks who his/her friend is, Eden just holds PC closer. “Old friend” MAY be referring to Bailey buuuut, and this might be a far fetched theory…

If you work in the docks, there’s a scene where you find a kid trapped and bound inside a cargo box. You’re able to secretly rescue the teen, take them somewhere to eat, and give them money to leave the town. (I think there’s also an option to bring them to the authorities, but I haven’t been able to trigger the scene again to try it. I didn’t because I don’t trust the police in this messed up town.) The kid is not able to speak but they communicate with body language. If your PC has the wolf TF, and you pass out in town, there’s a chance you might end up in the dog pound where you can find secret documents about the PC in an underground tunnel leading to the beach. You’re able to confront Bailey about it, but he simply takes the documents and the contents are never explained. The only thing that’s emphasized is that the letter B is written on the document. (B for “bought” maybe?) My theory is: what if Eden worked at the docks at one point and found a younger PC in the cargo. It’s possible there’s some illegal child trade or human trafficking happening in the town (considering the underground brothel exists, I don’t think it’s a far-fetched theory, but I know Vrel has a strict 18+ rule.), hence why the secret documents and secret tunnel exist. Eden may have found PC. That’s probably why they’re so convinced they’re meant to be PC’s protector.

I don’t believe anything is confirmed about PC’s past. So, if my theory were true, I can imagine PC may have tried to read things when they had just woken up and maybe struggled, one such thing being a random fishing magazine they swiped at the docks. Maybe Eden read it to PC, and PC gave it to them or forgot about it when Eden took them to the orphanage. If Eden is around 25, which I believe is what Vrel said, he could’ve been a teenager at the time and PC would’ve been a pre-teen since they’re 18 in-game.

I also have a theory, if PC is a reincarnation or time traveler as many theories suggest, maybe they traveled through and emerged from the lake. Eden might have found PC reading a random fishing magazine they found on fishing rock.

Sorry this message is so long, I just had to let this all out because it has been bothering me, and I’ve noticed Eden rescues PC like… A LOT so I imagined this scenario. I’m probably looking too much into it, but it’s a fun what-if to think about!

Hey! I really don't mind long posts like this- I love them actually, they're so fun to read so thank you for taking the time to write it all!

First up, I want to comment on Eden's age - they're mid to late 30s (same as Bailey) and old enough to be PC's dad. PC, at the start of the game, has just turned 18. Judging by how Vrel has said Eden dropped out of school before they could graduate and had very few jobs before entering the forest, I believe Eden was out of town before PC was even born.

So far the only thing that's been commented on in terms of PC's past is that Bailey might have known their parents (but I can't find the screenshot where this is said).

The reason I 100% think the old friend is Bailey (in terms of the magazine) is with all of the evidence that we have that the two genuinely share a bond (or shared, it seems some resentment has built on Bailey's side).

As for Ivory Wraith... its so hard to say with them. That scene makes it seem as though PC isn't included in what they're talking about - maybe it's to do with someone Eden used to be friends with who has changed and become a new person? Like Bailey's aforementioned complicated feelings?

So yeah, I don't believe that Eden and PC have met before. I think Eden's need to protect them comes from a place of "Oh shit I used to be like that." Eden, if they were an orphan, sees themself in PC and it kicks them into possessive big bear mode.

#spill your guts #anonymous #eden the hunter #cw trafficking

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red-archivist · 10 days

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finally caught up on tmagp!

eps 11-15 thots below

ep 11:

celia? again?? jack???

"Besides, I’m sweet enough already" is such a dad joke. As in, literally a joke my own dad has made several times

Ink5oul cameo!

lollll the change to stuffy business language

ah, ink5oul you can't be stealing corpses now, behave

GWEN Thank you, Alice. ALICE I… Sure. Whatever. Don’t get used to it.

tsun tsun~

"he's one of our externals" what a way to phrase it. also tells us that the oiar/the government works with several monsters

ep 12:

omg he's actually asking her out? fair play

"I think I'm done with Magnus stuff" buddy boy, its episode 12- magnus stuff isn't done with you, i can tell you that much

"Date of Incident: 9 March 2024" ooh v recent huh

stags are the worst, jordan, ty

oh. bonzo is back. lena meant it when she said to keep an eye out

the groom's was the name gwen handed over i assume

HE RIPPED HIS HEAD APART?? jesussssss

gwen. gwendolyn. you are not okay.

GWEN Thanks, Alice. Utterly useless as always. ALICE Anytime.

okay but purposely useless. purposely joking and irritating bc if you cant take it seriously it cant hurt you- that attitude is going to bite Alice sooner rather then later

ep 13:

ooh date night (morning)

A BABY???? CELIA WHAT

"it all went downhill" > proceeds to describe being generally successful- oh sammy we got to work on this hang-up

oh alice's parents are both dead? so just her and the little brother she is always looking after and giving money to anytime he is mentioned? bet that hasn't given her a complex

oh celia, you know the cases are real you're just trying to sound him out

"is it my fault?" GWENNNNNNN 😭

"we are... managing... the bad guys" oh boy

crypto bro, betting against your own life is a crazy idea what is wrong with you?

it reminds me of the dice case, a luck/circumstances based thing where you try to beat a rigged game

oof. sam. you hit a sore point there "professional"

"Stop trying to make an impact" is alice's motto tbh

ep 14:

"i went through the same thing when i started" i knew Alice had gone snooping, you dont get that avoidant without having tried first. of course, raises the question of what scared her off?

alice stop running away from your feelings challenge level: impossible

where the hell is there a marsh near Newcastle-Under-Lyme?

ooohhh boy hello sudden tone change

snake mannnnn, mannnn full of snakkeeessss

rejection notes from an institute....

ep 15:

sam. sam this is not smoother flirting than before

The Pillowman... we are making a note in case that's important

awww Alice loves her brother so much... shame that she's pitching him in such an awkward, intrusive way

"babies... are cool..." same, Alice

the fucking harpsichord? in the bg of the case reading is making me sooooo tense. i know what's going to happen and they're just drawing it out 10/10

oh. oh no. this is not what i thought was going to happen. i thought sure okay, rich assholes hunting ppl through the woods not... making them hunt each other oh this is so much more fucked up

"none of them got far" JESUS oh its not even all of them, just him

and now he is being hunted, okay

FUCK, the gunshot

oh. why is she in the office

STOP SNIFFING YOU CREEP

mowbray... is she one of the 'externals'...

LADY MOWBRAY Catch you next time, dearie. CELIA No, you won't.

oh that's vicious, celia knows she's a threat and won't give her a single inch, her hackles are raised sky-high

ah! sudden rock music!

And we finally meet Luke, hello

TAPE RECORDER

ummmm and another new voice??

UMMM

this is... the presence alice thought was following her? the thing she and sam set loose from the institute?

well. fuck.

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #red-archivist rambles

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chansaw · 3 months

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ok. here it is. the longpost i've been too lazy to actually make until just now.

so, here's what happened. the google algorithm sometimes pushes links to articles it thinks you'll like on the mobile homepage. unfortunately, google knew enough about me to put this hellish article onto my screen:

read that headline. then read it again. really, really stare at it. stare into the abyss. eventually, it will stare back. it'll whisper in your ear: "the heathers reboot was good, actually."

i read the article, incredulous. but, to my surprise... the author had somewhat of a point? it's been five years since paramount unceremoniously aired the show in october of 2018 after its premiere was delayed at least twice due to mass shootings. then after another mass shooting occurred before the final two episodes of the ten-episode long season were supposed to air, paramount hastily aired a heavily edited ninth episode and scrapped the tenth entirely. as far as i can tell, the show is not available to be streamed freely on any streaming site (not even paramount's own paramount+), though you can rent or buy it from amazon prime. maybe the author was right. maybe it was time for a rewatch and reconsideration. i wouldn't even have to spend any money; i archived all ten episodes of the show onto one of my external hard drives back in 2018, so i plugged 'er in, drank a bit of fireball, and clicked play.

after episode five, i gave up. i couldn't stand it any longer. i slammed my laptop shut and went to bed.

needless to say, i have thoughts.

right off the bat, here's the biggest thing. i wish to god that someone other than the miserable pile of sweaty skin that calls himself jason micallef had been in charge of this show. it might not have saved it from its fate, but maybe it would have been at least watchable? a modicum more entertaining? when the show was originally announced, leslye headland (who would later go on to create russian doll) was attached as showrunner. later, it was announced that micallef would be showrunner instead, although headland directed the pilot and executive produced the series.

in my honest opinion, if leslye headland had remained in creative control, this would have been a much different - and, in my opinion, better - show.

i can't help but wonder how heathers (2018) would have turned out if she had stayed at the helm. would it have marred her career so badly that netflix would have never agreed to produce russian doll? would she still be notable enough to be given charge of the newest disney plus star wars show? perhaps her decision was for the best. perhaps she knew there was no saving this project, try as she might.

and people tried!!!! during my rewatch, i was enamored by the production design and slick lighting and cinematography. some of the costume design hasn't aged well, but when it hits, it hits. i have to give credit where it's due: it is a beautifully shot and designed piece of television.

if only its actors had given half as much of a shit.

grace victoria cox (veronica) and james scully (j.d.) both attempt to replicate their predecessors' cool sense of disillusion and disenchantment in their roles, but both just come off as totally and completely bored in every scene. j.d. is supposed to be darkly charismatic, but scully has the charm of a plank of rotting wood. they lack the spark of chemistry to get the audience to feel invested in their relationship. without convincing leads to anchor it, the show has to depend upon its titular heathers.

i am, of course, in no way biased at all, in any shape or form. just saying. but one thing the article gets right is that melanie field’s performance as one miss heather chandler shines. field is fucking brilliant and her screen presence is formidable. she makes the most of every line she's given, and is at turns, ruthless, hilarious, and even (gasp) sympathetic. i am so glad she’s been booked left and right in tv shows (such as amazon's a league of their own, a spin-off with much more respect for its source material) that showcase her immense talent since whatever the fuck happened here. but i'm not biased!!!

juan barquin, the author of this article argues that viewers and critics alike both misunderstood heathers (2018). micallef's brilliant satirical messaging flew right over our heads. it had a message, goddamnit, and the misinformed masses closed their eyes and ears because they didn't want to hear it. it almost reminds me of the starships troopers discourse that is currently enveloping the app formerly known as twitter. starship troopers was nearly universally panned upon its release but is now recognized as a prescient satirical romp that targets jingoism, nationalism, and the culture of forever wars. we didn't get it back in 1997, but we do now. unfortunately, this is not the case with paramount's heathers.

the main cause of all the brouhaha around heathers (2018)'s release, barquin says, is because of its "shameless criticism of American culture, the prioritization of guns as a faulty means of defense, and the educational system’s blatant ignorance around the actual needs of students." which, sort of? it is true that a rash of killings (such as parkland and the pittsburgh synagogue shootings) spurred paramount's decision to nuke the show from existence. the show does, in fact, directly address and involve such matters. unlike the movie, the show concludes with westerburg high blown to pieces and its students all dancing in a prom in heaven. which.... yeah. you can see why that wouldn't have played out well.

(it's worth noting that daniel waters, the screenwriter behind the REAL heathers, originally planned for the movie to end this way as well. but the suits at new world studios said that audiences wouldn't like it. reluctantly, he complied.)

and i do have to admit, there are moments of brilliance. westerburg's school shooting drills involve the drama teacher storming through the halls shooting students with silly string. if you "die", you get to go to "heaven" (a brightly lit room stocked with snacks). the survivors are ushered into the dark, cramped gymnasium and complain about how all the cool kids are in heaven now. teachers' desks are stocked with firearms, because as we all know, of course, the only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun is a teacher with a gun. it's so absurd that it works.

but for the most part, the writing is sorely lacking. it seems like the folks in the writers' room spent hours sitting around the table trying to one-up each other with quippable quips, meme-able dialogue, and banter that matched the panache and dry wit of waters' screenplay. but what we got instead was "HAHHAHAHAH, QUEEF!" it's bad. it's so, so bad. the author's claim that “[t]he show rather impressively matches the film’s comic sensibilities with consistently funny episodes that are as pleasantly cruel as they are scathingly satirical” falls flat because, for the most part, the shows satire isn’t at all scathing or sharp.

there were so many moments of the show where i felt my whole body just light up with rage. it made me just so ANGRY because i could see shells and fragments of a better version of this show peeking through. instead, what we got is a show that made alt-right chuds say this:

i think the most offensive part of the whole article, though, is barquin's attempt to liken the show to bottoms. if anything, i'd argue that bottoms works better as a spiritual successor to heathers than the rebooted heathers itself! bottoms succeeds in every way that heathers (2018) fails: punchy and quotable dialogue, characters who manage to be both archetypal and multidimensional, all set in an exaggerated and heightened sense of reality that still feels lived in and real. most importantly, all of bottoms’ actors are firing on all cylinders; in heathers (2018), most of the leads are just there to get paid. i could go on, but that's a whole other post.

frankly, it's kind of incredible that paramount launched this show as the flagship of their new tv network alongside yellowstone (which is in its final season now with spinoffs on the way). they were really, really banking on this thing to have legs. but we live in a blessed timeline where this show is condemned to an eternity of oblivion. it's a bit of a pity, though, because... the writers envisioned some sort of american horror story-esque anthology setup and teased a “french revolution” second season at the end of the last episode. i kind of want to know where they were planning to go with that.

it could've been so very.

#heathers #long post

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thewatercolours · 1 month

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PART NINE - Replaying King's Quest, Chapter Three (2016)

Sire, if you're so cold at the top of that tower, considering rolling down your sleeves.

I wonder what happened to the clock face that clearly used to be on Hagatha's tower.

Hagatha really loves theme colouring. Not only did she provide the princesses with lots of wall hangings and belongings that match their outfits, but she's doen the same with her pink hangings, blanket, cushions, etc. that match the dress she's wearing in her younger portrait.

It's only Graham's first night in the castle, and Hagatha has already done a mini arts and crafts project so he can have a little clothespin doll in his colours too.

Though it's not consistent across the board, it seems like transformation magic is extremely difficult to change/reverse in this world. There are times when it's relatively easy (Graham's wizard's duel with Mordack in classic KQ5), but the cases of Hagatha and Manannan's transformations suggest it's difficult to alter once you've done it, or done it enough. This is something I'm leaning into in Rippling Consequences. It's not that there's no way out from a transformation, but it's serious stuff to try to shake it off.

I understand they were probably starting to run low on money at this point, and there are reasons not to have other rooms in the tower to explore, but I still like to dream that, given its height, it could be so cool to have other tower rooms that play into the plot, create inventory puzzles, and so on.

I wonder who fashioned the tower's jointed wooden legs! Why did they want to create a walking tower? If it had real bird legs like in Baba Yaga, I would assume the tower was really a sort of creature t hat had hatched that way. But I'm more inclined to think this is more of a magical automaton that someone put together.

I doubt this was intentional on the Stantons' part, but I'm going to be extra here. The music during the scene where Graham sees the girls struggling with their broken items and realizes he could use some advice from his friends in town to figure out which lady and how to make a connection is the same music from the "how to get across the river" scene puzzle in Chapter One. Thus we may make the connection that Graham is here pondering how to come across, and how to build bridges. ;-)

Presumable typo that no one caught before the recording session: "Too bad I couldn't just jot over to the town square." Presumably the script was meant to say "jog," not "jot." Graham, I am a writer. if I want to, I can "jot" you over to the town square, but I doubt it's something you can do for yourself.

#revisiting chapter three

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lec743 · 1 year

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Bloody Flora AU (FNAF Fanfic)

(cackles) I think this is my cutes story based on this AU~ Hey! Hey, @oobbbear! I decided to give Moon your artistic love~~ Enjoy this fluff y’all!!!

*******************************************************************************************

Moon wanted to do something special for you. Moon was under the impression that him and Sun were practically married to you at this point, and he wanted to show you all the love and care ten-fold onto you that you do for them. The problem was how to go about it. It’s not like he has money and Moon didn’t think it’d be very tasteful to go dumpster diving for loose items to make art from for you. He could ask Sun for advice, but that would ruin the surprise since Sun can’t keep a secret.

Moon was out in the city in his tiny bat form. Clutched in his feet were advertisement posters for the Bloom and Gloom. Being so close to the inner city, with all its blaring lights, hurt his eyes, but Moon toughed it out. He wanted to make sure that the flower shop got enough eyes on its advertisements so that you’ll get more jobs. As he went from light pole to public corkboard, Moon ignored the distrustful side-eyes that were shot his way.

As he was thinking about what he could do for you to celebrate your relationship with him and Sun, Moon heard a conversation that sound like a similar problem to his own.

Moon flew into the night sky to get a better lock on the voices. Then he zeroed in on a woman and her little boy. He followed them as he listened in on their conversation as he was still in his tiny bat form.

“But Mooooom! I wanna do something special for him!”

It was a black woman and her son, a little Chinese kid. The woman was smiling down at her kid, placatingly, as he whined up at her. He looked like he was six, probably just starting school. It made Moon miss his parents.

“You don’t need money to do something special for your crush, Baby.”

“But the thing! That toy is perfect for him!”

“I can’t afford to buy that for you.”

“I’ll do extra chores around the house!”

“No, Honey. What happened to that drawing you were working on for him?”

The little boy crossed his arms in a pout. “It’s stupid.”

The woman pulled her son closer to her so that she could pet his head as they walked. “I promise that it’s not. When you like someone, anything given to them can be precious, because you’re the one who gave it to them.”

“My drawing is stupid though…”

“Life is full of stupid things. It doesn’t make them any less loved.”

The boy just pouted more, but Moon took this moment to butt in. He poofed into his normal stature and dropped down in front of them. “Hi. Sorry. But when you say “anything”, do you really mean that or—”

Moon’s words were cut off by the woman’s screams as she picked up and clutched her kid. Then as she turned and ran, she screamed out, “Vampire!”

Moon crouched in on himself as he clutched the advertisements to his chest. His ears pinned down to his head as he sadly watched the nice-looking lady and her cute kid run around the corner.

“Hey!” Moon jumped at the gruff voice yelling at him and he felt his hackles raise on instinct. Moon turned to the voice and saw a large white man with a large beard covering half his face march towards him with a tire iron. “Get the hell out of our city!”

Moon unfurled one of the advertisements and quickly said, “ComebuyflowersatourshopattheBloomandGloom;pricesare20%offwhenyoushowupwiththeseposters!” Moon then let it drop when the scary man hesitated in his confusion and Moon flew away, poof-ing down to his little bat size so he would be harder to see as he flies away.

Having hung up the rest of his advertisements, Moon sighed as he rested on a random rooftop. That interaction didn’t go as well as he had hoped. He let what he heard of the conversation ruminate in his skull. His ears twitching with the amount of concentration he was putting into what he learned. The little boy was drawing something for his crush… Maybe it’s not so stupid to do that for you? His lover/spouse/human-thing? Moon wasn’t certain about it. He would have liked to have more solid answers but getting advice from people isn’t easy. He could go to the Internet, but he doesn’t like how impersonal it is.

Out of the corner of his eye, Moon saw a cat walking nearby. Moon turned to the cat and said, “Hey Archie! Pretty kitty! Come here.” Then he made all kinds of cat sounds to tempt the cat over. The cat went up to him and started rubbing herself against his outstretched clawed hands. Fawning over the kitty. Moon told the cat of his troubles.

“I just want them to have the best things.” Moon finished his heart-wrenching rant. “They’re so good. They even forgave us for attacking them even though they still have nightmares of us attacking them. I don’t know. A drawing just doesn’t seem good enough for them.” The kitty in his lap meowed up at him. “I’m thinking too hard about it?” The kitty purred louder in his lap. “Of course I think they love us. Moonflower feeds us and shelters us and has trained us in so many cool plant things. I now know the difference between a tulip and a rose.” The kitty meow at him. Moon rubbed the back of his neck. “Yah. I used to think all flowers were the same. I still get them confused sometimes, but I’m better than what I was.” The kitty gave him a long meow that ended in a yawn. Moon sighed. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do the drawing thing. It doesn’t feel good enough, but I’ll do it.”

Three days later, Moon managed to finish his surprise drawing for you. It took three days because he had to find time to do it since he had to hide it from Sun and because it kept not turning out the way he wanted it to turn out. It was frustrating, but he finally decided to keep the latest finished drawing because he was worried, he was going to end up hating his finished work and start the whole process all over again.

The drawing was a drawing of you in a flower field under a stary night sky. You were holding Sun’s hand as he stood with you in the flower field, and you were giving Moon’s little bat form a kiss on the head as he sat in your palm.

Moon stared at it as he climbed up the stairs to the living room to join you and Sun for dinner. Before entering the softly lit kitchen, Moon took a deep breath and walked in. You and Sun were talking about the weather and how nice the nights were but how both of you were lamenting the daylight savings time thing.

“Moonflower, I made something for you.”

You smiled at him as Moon sits down on your other side at the table. “What did you make?” Wordlessly, Moon lays the drawing face down on the table and slides it across to you.

“Awe, why didn’t you tell me you were making something. I could have helped,” Sun stated.

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” Moon said flatly.

Sun’s ears pinned back bashfully from being called out. “Ah.”

You had picked up the drawing and you awed at the sight of it. “Moon,” you said as you put a hand over your mouth, “This is amazing.” You then clutched it to your chest and gave Moon your biggest and most beautiful smile. “I love it so much. Thank you.”

A little part of Moon couldn’t help but doubt that, but instead he said, “I’m glad.”

Moon and Sun watched you get up and walk to the fridge. Then they saw you pin it to the door of the fridge.

“There!” You said with your smile still on your face. “Now I’ll be able to see it every day.”

Moon didn’t say anything, but he still felt like it wasn’t good enough and that he should have done something else. He kept thinking about it all night as you slept, and he worked with Sun. When it was time to go to bed, Moon was up the stairs to get a glass a water, while also contemplating the idea of stealing the drawing to do something else when he saw you up.

Moon quietly hid behind the kitchen door as he looked through the crack he made when he initially tried to walk in. You were disheveled in your pajamas with your hair standing up in two different directions. You had a cup of coffee in one hand, and you were sipping from it as you stood in front of the fridge. Moon could see the soft smile on your face as you looked at his drawing.

Moon backed away and walked back downstairs as he felt a warmth spread through him at your smile. That pesky little voice in his head was thoroughly squashed, just from having the sight of your private smile looking at his work. It made Moon want to draw more things for you.

#fnaf #bloody flora au #oobbbear #fanfiction

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aromanticannibal · 1 year

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Transfem Katsuki (edited as of Nov. 2023. Katsuki hadn't died yet when this was written so bear with me.)

In honor of "fuck I thought about transfem Katsuki and now I'm in love with her again" and also because of a shitty discourse post I saw. Enjoy.

She will NOT figure it out until at least second year of UA.

She's always been uneasy about the whole boy thing. Specifically boy. Like she's one of the guys ok sure but she's not a boy.

We know how kind Aldera is to anyone who's slightly out of the norm (ie Deku) and Katsuki is especially aware given she was part of the problem. So yeah, internalized transphobia (+homophobia) we love to see it./s

Getting into UA and quickly realizing that like more than half the class is openly and proudly queer in some way gave her whiplash, and as much of a bully as she still was at this point, she didn't say anything.

She tried to convince herself it was to not get in trouble and gamble her place at UA, but really she was just glad to not be somewhere as fucked as her middle school.

And if the trans ponytail chick makes her question who she really wants to be... well that's nobody's business.

As I am very subtly implying, Momo ends up being a big part of Katsuki accepting herself and her identity as a trans woman.

Katsuki loves her friend group (she'll never admit it but she does, so much) but she associates them with her old group from Aldera somewhat unconsciously, and is terrified they'll push her away, even if she knows she's just. Straight up wrong.

As in, so incredibly wrong. Sero and Jirou are non binary ("Whatever the hell that means") Kirishima is a proud trans man ("More of a man than any of the cretins at Aldera will ever be") Mina's dating a trans girl from another school ("Camie Utsushit or smth") and Kaminari is so many different flavors of queer its almost impressive.

Really, her friends are probably the ones that should be worried, she tries to remind herself, hammering it in her head. Katsuki was an asshole for most of her life, they should be the ones scared of her. They're not though. For some fuckin' reason.

So yeah, talking to her friend group is out of the question. Momo though.

Momo is a special kind of trustworthy. Momo is the kind of person you'd give your entire life savings, your child, your car and your wife to. Katsuki hates that, she hates trusting people, it always ends badly, so she prefers doing stuff on her own.

Except it doesn't always end badly. Especially not with Yaomomo.

Every early saturday morning, Katsuki's and Momo's workout sessions happen at the same time. Eventually, they start talking during that time. Katsuki eventually asks about Momo being trans, more or less convinced she'll tell her to go fuck herself (she obviously doesn't).

It helps, despite the fact that her experience isn't the same as Katsuki's at all. Momo always knew she was a girl, her parents always were supportive about it, and money really wasn't a problem to help her transition once she was old enough to make that decision. Hell, she can literally make estrogen.

Katsuki then comes to the realization that yeah, she's probably a girl. Not like I'll ever do shit about it, she thinks.

Things kinda stay stagnant for a time then. Katsuki has way more important stuff to worry about (like exams and also her and her friends almost dying etc etc) and the self-hatred that simmers in her head constantly doesn't make it really fun to actually think about herself.

Second year comes around.

Because this is me, and my blog, and I do what I want, I present to you my son, Shinsou. Most trans guygirl t4t lesbian of all time. In my heart.

So Shinsou is very trans in the most mysterious way you could think of, so mysterious he himself doesn't really know what is going on with his gender. He doesn't exactly care, he just vibes (any pronouns).

They're pretty knowledgeable on queer stuff because it loves to read wikipedia pages until 5AM when it can't sleep and got lost on multiple LGBTQ+ related forums when she was 13. (He also knows a lot about chickens and lizards.)

She can just breathe the queer coming out of Katsuki, but when they ask they're just met with "oh Bakugou? Yeah no, he's cishet. Our token straight man. To prove we're diverse, etc." (-Shouji, entirely serious). Shinsou's not buying it but she doesn't like assuming, so he shuts up.

Meanwhile, Katsuki has nothing to think about anymore now that things have settled and she's not getting attacked by her self-hatred constantly, so she unfortunately ends up thinking about her gender (truly tragic. Genuinely though, it's almost distressing because she pushed the thought down for so long that it's scary to think about).

Because early mornings and nights are a time outside of our world, it's again around 5AM that Katsuki talks to someone who might help her with her gender problem. Shinsou in fact, who's of course awake on a Monday morning after a sleepless night, eating cereal out of the box.

Katsuki finds herself chatting with the weirdo and eventually asks what the fuck kinda gender it is, if only to be able to call her something else than the weirdo in her head.

The realization that gender is a construct and doesn't really fucking exist so it doesn't actually matter is somewhat of an epiphany for Katsuki. Like she's silent for multiple minutes. Shinsou is getting scared

Quietly, she mutters a small "I think I'm a girl" to Shinsou. It smiles and says "Nice. There's not enough girls in this class." and goes back to its cereal.

Katsuki has no fucking idea how that fucker exists. He's an anomaly in the timeline. Katsuki adores them.

(Platonically. Girl doesn't have time for romantic love. Yes I'm also making her aromantic, because aro Katsuki is the loml and one of my fave hcs.)

After that weird but insightful conversation, Katsuki finally asks Momo for help, taking her up on an offer she had made one morning. ("If you ever need my help for anything concerning [your gender bullshit], come see me.")

Momo being the absolute QUEEN that she is, she assembles all transgirls and cisgirls of the class + whoever else would like to join (which ends up being Jirou, Shinsou and Aoyama) and they all go on a shopping trip with Katsuki to help her figure out what she likes.

Does she want to wear makeup? Does she want feminine clothes? Or long hair? Does she want boobs? Or thinner traits?

Does she just want different pronouns and to be addressed viewed as a girl?

Mina shortens that as "What kinda girl is Katsuki".

I'll do you the answer here so this doesn't take forever, because the process of figuring it out must be long.

Mainly, the verdict will eventually be that Katsuki didn't really feel comfortable in the box she, her parents and Aldera put her in, which is a sort of vague idea of a Boy, Man, Son. She's mean and a bitch and probably a tomboy and she's a girl. That's all. She doesn't want of any of that flowery pink crap and being "gracefully feminine" like Momo is, she'll still kick your teeth in. Being a girl isn't fundamentally part of her identity or her personality, but it's who she's comfortable being.

She does enjoy skirts once she feels comfortable enough to wear them. She grows her hair a bit too (because she doesn't wanna look like her mother at first, but she ends up liking the look) and puts it up in a ponytail.

Makeup is a bitch but it looks cool, so she lets Mina, Aoyama and Shinsou use her face as a canevas for their weird makeup experiments. She thinks she looks like a clown half the time though (she doesn't, she's really cute). She mostly does eyeliner, which she already knew how to do before starting her transition, and very rarely lipgloss.

She doesn't really care about having breasts or softer traits, mainly because her traits are already pretty androgynous when she looks at herself, and she's already got big pecs so like. Basically tits. It's the same, it doesn't really matter. She's happy with how her body looks, she worked to have a healthy body and she doesn't care if it's "not a woman's body" or whatever the fuck. She likes how her body is and she doesn't really care about changing it.

She thinks of using she/they (like Jirou) but doesn't exactly care about they/them? Like they're not bad to have used on her (way better than he/him) but she prefers just using she/her.

She doesn't change her first name. It means victory, so it's already perfect for her. It's her name.

Some of her friends (the ones who aren't scared of death cough cough Shinsou) call her Katsuki-chan (Kacchan is copyrighted) but most her friends call her Kats', because she let slip one time she thinks it's cute.

To end this because good lord I've been typing for some time, here's my Transfem Bakugou pinterest board. I actually have a bunch of transfem characters pinterest boards lmao

Also realizing I almost didn't talk about Izuku. Damn I've really betrayed myself as a bkdk truther. Rip.

#bakugou katsuki #transfem bakugou #trans bakugou #trans girl bakugou #bnha #mha #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #shinsou hitoshi #momo yaoyorozu #long post #ciders mha hyperfixation

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docholligay · 3 months

Note

Doc what would Lena want to be done for her funeral? I have this image of her requesting that her ashes be spread from the open cockpit of one of those cropdusting/banner displaying propeller planes. The only problem is getting one of her friends to go up in it in the first place.

AHAHAHAHAHA I love the idea of Lena being fucking cropdusted, hopefully on London. Most definitely illegal, it would have to be the kind of thing where she determined with her family and friends A) were capable of it, pilotwise B) Don't mind being For Real Arrested. It's the sort of thing that Lena unfortunately could only do herself, and regrettably, she thinks, she will be dead at the time, which makes piloting difficult.

But for my own in-my-very-indulgent-universe purposes.

Of course, the public facing memorial whatever for TRACER is its own thing and she could barely care less about that but for the fact that she feels very strongly about not letting literally any member of the royal family say word fucking one at it. Other than that, whatever, Hana and Fareeha are the bosses now, they probably have PR people, cool cool it's a good OW recruitment thing.

But for the people who will actually be mourning Lena Oxton:

Lena has lost enough people to realize that the whole idea of "I don't want anyone to cry, I want it to be a celebration of life" can sometimes be putting a burden on people who loved you in its own way. Sometimes, people need to be upset about things. It's good to have space to do that.

So, she doesn't say, "Nobody is allowed to cry, only laugh" she thinks people should have the right to feel however the hell they feel about it. BUT. Given that funerals cost money, may as well make a party of it, and so there's a bunch of alcohol, and plenty of takeout in those shitty tin pans, and basically an open mic night where people can tell embarrassing stories about her, implicate her in crimes, or tell her to go fuck herself, because, who cares! I'm dead. Her greatest wish is for everyone to get at least a little tuned and laugh at least once, even if she's not going to push the issue.

She does manage to talk her local boozer into shutting down to have a bunch of people mill around in it, by plying the same "I am tragically being struck down in the prime of me life, due to me immense courage." that she does at the family pub to get a free pint. She does not even think to ask the family place for the same reason she convinces the local: "Tracer drank here enough to be mourned here" will be a fantastic selling point for the influx of tourists in the next decade looking to cosplay the battle for London.

People get drunk enough that she'd be pleased.

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changingplumbob · 2 months

Text

Nishidake Household: Chapter 5, Part 3

In this part Keira pops by, Charlie invites her parents over for dinner and Kaori tries to lift Charlie's spirits when she gets in a gloomy funk.

Charlie is busy tending the garden while a betrayed post bath Clover mopes on her dog bed.

*Doorbell*

Clover: *barks* I got it mummy, I got it

Keira: *shivers* let me in let me in let me in

Charlie: Hey! I didn’t know you were stopping by

Keira: Can we please talk inside where I can feel my fingers

Charlie: No. I’m comfy out here

Keira: Charlie!

Charlie: Kidding, get in. Just remember, no shoes inside

Keira: I’m so glad you two got a thermostat

Charlie: I don’t know if it was worth it, you kept us pretty warm before with lighting that fire

Keira: It was an accident! When are you going to forget it

Charlie: Never. It’s in the big sister code somewhere that I’m obligated to remind you that you set my dryer on fire until one of us dies

Keira: Fine. Then I get to forever remind you about every time your sport practice broke windows

Charlie: Sounds fair

Keira: Oh I love that photo of us, our first one in Sulani. It feels like forever ago now

Charlie: Keira, you didn’t come all this way to talk about photos that are on the wall at home

Charlie: What’s going on? Is everything alright with Marta?

Keira: With Marta? Oh she’s great. But umm… I’m a bit worried about mum and dad

Charlie: What do you mean

Keira: They’ve been taking Carson to all these appointments lately and coming home tired. I worry they’re wearing themselves out

Charlie: They are getting older Keira

Keira: I tried to offer to cook for them to help but they know I can’t cook. Marta can but they keep insisting she’s a guest. Could you invite them around here for dinner or something? Let them get out of the house

Charlie: If it’ll make you feel better, I have tomorrow off work anyway

Keira: Thanks Charlie

Charlie: So what’s Carson got these appointments for

Keira: Mum won’t tell me, just says not to worry about it while putting on a happy face

Charlie: Don’t worry Keira, I’ll help them take a night off. Promise

Keira: Thanks. This is why you're my favourite sister

Charlie: Yeah I... Wait, I'm your only sister!

Upstairs Kaori is busy. Having finished filming her video she now needs to get started on editing, a well as adding effects and transitions.

Clover: *barks* Mummy time for snuggles and snooze

Kaori: Is it bedtime already

Clover: *barks* yes that is what I just said

Kaori: *sighs* I guess this will keep until tomorrow. Lead the way

The next morning the couple decide to start the day off with a bang while they both have energy, before leaving bed.

Kaori: Got plans for your day off

Charlie: I’m going to invite mum and dad for dinner. Hey maybe we could get some climbing practice in?

Kaori: Sure- oh wait. I forgot, I do have this video I need to get out

Charlie: When by

Kaori: Sometime this morning… not sure exactly

Charlie: Okay. I can chill around the house until you’re ready

Kaori: Thanks. I do want to go climbing

Charlie: But you also like money, I understand

Kaori: Where was I… PrimSims… I need to be better at labelling stuff

Clover: *barks* Everything should be given its own scent

Kaori: I think the first half is good but this second half needs work

Diligently working on her video, Kaori is kept company by Clover who has a very good “Are you done yet” face. Eventually though Kaori uploads it, and gets the bonus for correct content!

Charlie and Kaori set off for the climbing wall and try to assess the conditions (is it normal to not get a pop up about it? What’s the point of assessing if the game won’t even tell you). After putting on their climbing gear and doing a few warm up stretches they get started. Both manage to make it to the top but the practice is full of many falls. Luckily they’re prepared and don’t get injured. Eventually the two have had enough of slipping and decide to head home when the watcher notices the ice sign.

Charlie: Would have been nice to know that earlier

They arrive home to good news, Clover’s snow booties have arrived!

Charlie: Let’s see… oh they fit great don’t they honey pie

Clover: *barks* the heck am I wearing

Charlie: Shall we go for a run to test them out huh

Clover: *barks* Wait, why isn’t the snow making my paws wet

Charlie and her dog head off. It doesn’t take much time for Clover to adjust to the booties and soon enough she’s running like she’s worn them all her life.

Kaori: Another bit of broken plumbing? Seriously *sighs* I guess I could stream fixing it, maybe that will help my fame level

After a messy fix Kaori sets her sights on dinner. The drone has plenty of battery left so she decides to change her handiness livestream in to a cooking livestream.

*doorbell*

Kaori: That must be my in-laws, thanks for watching everyone

Kayleigh: Who were you talking to

Kaori: Just the drone

Charlie: Oh crumbs, I forgot the time. We better race home Clover

Kayleigh: Lovely to see you Kaori

Kaori: Thanks for coming. Sometimes I just want to make a big meal for sharing but Charlie and I can't eat it all alone

Kayleigh: Where’s my daughter got to

Kaori: She was taking Clover for a run. She’ll be back soon. How have you been

Kayleigh shrugs in a non-committal way as the door opens again.

Charlie: Sorry if I’m late

Harvey: No worries, we haven’t started eating yet

Charlie: So how’s things at home

Harvey: Pretty good, I’m getting my fish stocks up

Kayleigh: And I’m working on some new paintings

Charlie: How’s Carson

Kayleigh: Did we tell you he has asthma

Charlie: Reece told us. Is he doing okay?

Kayleigh: He’s… adjusting

Kaori: My grandmother had asthma. It’s not too tricky to manage once you get a routine. I’m sure Keira and Marta would be happy to help with cleaning if you asked

Kayleigh: But they’re guests

Charlie: They’re family mum. They’ll help. And Carson is in scouts, he must know some recipes by now

After dinner wraps up Kayleigh gives Harvey a quick peck on the cheek before heading outside to play some chess with Charlie. Clover takes a well deserved nap following her run, and Harvey chats to Kaori.

Harvey: They left you how much

Kaori: I know, it’s a lot. But Charlie and I want to do some good with it. We’re just not sure where to start

Harvey: You’re both sensible, you’ll think of something

Kaori: We did have an idea that we could place an offer on the park in Wakaba, try and stop every space there being turned in to new houses

Harvey: See now, that’s a great idea! How exactly would you go about doing that though

Kaori: Well the park is owned by the council at the moment but they’ve let the neighbourhood residents know they’re open to offers on the space

Harvey: It sounds like a good first step, buying a park to keep it as a park. I’m sure that’s the kind of thing your grandparents wanted you to do as a guardian

Kaori: I hope so. I really hope so

Charlie: Are you sure you’re managing mum

Kayleigh: Honey, please, I’m not even an elder

Charlie: I know but Keira said you’ve been taking Carson to all these appointments and-

Kayleigh: Charlie, I love you, but your brother’s health is his private business

Charlie: *sighs* Keira’s just worried you’ll burn yourself out. And yeah maybe I’m worried to

Kayleigh: I’m doing well, so is your dad. When sims grow older they get more tired, we’re adjusting. Now I think I can head off

Charlie: But the game-

Kayleigh: Checkmate

Charlie: Again? Ugh, how did I miss that

Charlie and Kaori head to the gym to fit in some more climbing practice but it seems they’re out of luck.

Kaori: Why are climbing machines roped off

Suzanna: Oh I just asked management. They’re doing some necessary upgrades apparently

Joey: See I told you the gym would be broken

Deanna: She didn’t say all the machines are broken

Joey: Maybe we should just pretend they are. So, purple, you like rock climbing do you? If you ever want to try out your technique, I’m down for being climbed

Suzanna: *laughs* Steady on kid, I’m married

*THUNK*

Devin: Don’t panic everyone! Just another fan

Charlie: It really does happen all the time

Devin: That’s what I’ve been saying

Charlie: Do you have time to walk Clover this morning

Kaori: Sure

Charlie: Thanks. This faux meat wall is difficult to improve, I want to give it a good massage today

Kaori pulls a face but nevertheless gets Clover and her booties ready for a walk.

Charlie takes some time to try and improve her logic skill again, playing another match against herself. The problem is the other her always wins. She lets out a particularly heavy sigh of frustration as Kaori and Clover get back.

Kaori: You okay Char

Charlie: I just lost, again

Kaori: But doesn’t that mean you also won

Charlie: Nope. I lost. I can never beat myself

Kaori decides Charlie needs to get away from the chess board to get some perspective.

Kaori: Do you want to head to the climbing walls at the gym? The walls here are icy again

Charlie: They’ll probably be icy forever (Charlie is very much in her gloomy mindset today)

Kaori: Shall we race to the top

Charlie: Yeah I guess, but I’ll probably just lose

Kaori: Come on Char, you know you can climb

Charlie is slow to get into it but nevertheless Kaori persists with her cheerful chatter and encouragement. As time passes the exercise endorphins help Charlie who begins to get back to her competitive normal. The end results show that Charlie has climbed further than Kaori, drawing a smile from Charlie which of course makes Kaori happy.

When they get home Kaori heads upstairs to edit some videos that have been sitting on her hard drive for a while. There’s one on handiness, and one on cooking, and of course another stereotypical product review. Kaori really hopes one day she can get free stuff to review rather than paying for it herself. Maybe at the next celebrity level. Downstairs Charlie takes her improving mood and tends to the bonsai bush in the hall.

Charlie: Now, where… to start?

Clover: *barks* it’s too tall now

Charlie: I wish I could remember what shape I made last time

Clover: *barks* prune it into a ball shape

Charlie: Maybe if I keep the stuff on this side… and chop this?

Clover: *barks* that’s not a ball shape

Maybe it isn’t tennis ball shaped but pruning it has helped get Charlie in a focused headspace for her game today. She pops upstairs to wish Kaori good luck for her dinner and then heads off.

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#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #R0809 #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #NishidakeHousehold #CharlieNishidake #KaoriNishidake #KeiraFoster #KayleighFoster #HarveyFoster

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