#but these are (to my knowledge) the most popular around the world
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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Two
Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warning: None :)
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
“The sun’s barely gone down!” Cassian grumbled, following behind Helion, Rhysand, and Feyre as they walked the cobblestone streets of the Day Court. Every block of the small city contained at least two local bookstores, one cafe that also sold books, one flower shop that also sold books, and/or a small glass box filled with - as anyone could have guessed - more books to be given away for free.
Helion chuckled, “You’re not in the Night Court any more. My people are early to bed, early to rise. Unless of course you spend a night with me.” He winked at Cassian, who had the sense to blush. Indeed the Night Court members had been shocked when the party cleared out not even two hours after the sun had slipped beneath the ground.
Aside from the small scale bookstores which housed the most popular and recently published novels, every sector of the Day Court also had between one to three athenaeum’s - elaborate buildings of ivory stone laced with filigree and windows that lit up like the glowing eyes of an ancient beast. They were the pride and joy of all Day Court members. The windows flickered and shone with the magic used to protect the volumes from the sun. Even as the neighborhood lights slowly winked out, Azriel could track the diligent minds scouring the brightly lit shelves. There was a loving madness in their hunched backs, craned necks, and squinting eyes.
As their troupe reached The Alcove, one of the smaller and cozier athenaeum’s, Azriel couldn’t help but imagine you in a similar display of passionate madness, when you forgot about the world around you and could actually relax.
The Alcove specialized in housing diaries and novels of everyday comforts - quiet, unassuming stories that could steal your heart as swiftly as the grandest tales of war and romance, but with much more discretion. Here, the knowledge pressed between pages with ink was full of warmth and subtlety. The others in your cohort had scorned you for your choice in The Alcove. Why would anyone choose such a dull place to live and work? Why not be surrounded by books on war tactics or history or religion or biology? Someplace useful and worthy of a Librarian’s gifts. But The Alcove had offered you something you’d missed since your mother’s death - a sense of home.
You sat by the bay windows overlooking the darkened street below, breathing in the crisp and cool air that snuck in through the glass. On the other side of your apartment, a similar window overlooked The Alcove’s interior. Hundreds of mahogany shelves lined the high walls of the octagonal building with its signature domed roof. Grand staircases of gold twisted their way up from the ground, connecting to walkways that gave easier access to the volumes housed higher up the walls.
It was a blessing in disguise that you’d chosen to sit on this side of your apartment. Otherwise you would have never seen the Shadowsinger watching you with careful consideration, his eyes faintly glowing like the eyes of a cat. He raised one gloved hand up at you in a wave, a solitary gesture as the rest of his companions and Helion walked towards the stairs that led up to your apartment entrance.
He saw your mouth open in a shocked oh and couldn’t help the faintest smile gracing his lips as you disappeared from view.
“Oh shit.” You sprang up from your seat, eyes madly racing over the contents of your apartment. You were in the middle of a research project on magical signatures and your living space reflected the madness in your mind. Books lay open on the floor, on the desk, on the coffee table surrounded by carefully documented notes and half-scribbled ideas in equal measure. You wouldn’t be able to clean it up in time and, quite frankly, you had no interest in disrupting the chaotic organization. Did you really care about impressing the Night Court and Helion?
The terrifying answer was, yes.
The dining room.
It rarely saw use since you were disinclined to receive guests, and had more recently been repurposed to house stacks of romance novels… best not to let anyone see those…
In the five minutes it took for Helion and the members of the Inner Circle to climb up the dozen flights of stairs, and knock on your door, you’d successfully managed to hide all the smutty romance books in your bedroom, throw a table cloth and candle on top of the dining table, put away the dried dishes that had been displaced on the kitchen countertops, and set a kettle on the stove. Was there anything more that could be done?
Helion smiled brightly when you made your appearance, keeping the door slightly ajar to keep the worst of the living room out of sight. Perhaps this would be a short visit and they wouldn’t even ask to come inside.
“Y/n!” Helion said with a grin, “I present to you the Inner Circle of the Night Court.” He gestured with a grand flourish to some of the most beautiful fae you’d ever had the honor of witnessing.
“Some of us at least.” The High Lord’s voice was liquid honey and filled with enough charisma to seduce a nun.
“The most important ones.” The Lord of Bloodshed said with a boyish grin. The faint scar on his cheek pulled back with his smile.
“I’ll let Nesta know you said that.” The High Lady had swapped out her dress for a more simple pair of black slacks and a billowing shirt that cinched in at the waist, flowing over her body like smoke on water.
“Wait, no. Feyre, I was only joking. Feyre-”
She laughed, tipping her head back while her husband and mate looked on with a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t expected to see. It wasn’t the love that shocked you so much as the casualness of it. High Lords and Lady’s - from the limited experience you had reading about them in books - were either unreadable or such outrageous flirts they looked ready to jump into the bones of anything that could stand upright or lay down for long enough. Both methods were appropriate to hide their true feelings, but Rhysand and Feyre seemed to take another approach entirely.
Helion coughed when you made no move to introduce yourself, still shell-shocked at the caliber of guests currently at your door, “And to the Inner Circle of the Night Court, I present Y/n Y/l/n. My dear friend and one of the most talented researchers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.”
“We’ve heard so much about you.” Feyre said, moving forward on instinct to embrace you. She stopped immediately when she saw you flinch back, but recovered quickly, smiling brightly, “My name is Feyre, and this is my mate Rhysand,” The High Lord tipped an imaginary hat, “And his brothers, Cassian and Azriel.”
“It’s an honor to meet you.” You said politely.
“The honor is all ours.” Rhysand said. He held Feyre closer to his side, one hand ghosting close to her stomach in memory of the child that had grown there not even two years ago. “Helion told us everything you did. Our daughter is alive and well thanks to you, as is my mate.”
You blinked in surprise. You didn’t know Helion had told them about that.
“Oh um, it was a joint effort. My High Lord is too kind.” You said with a respectful dip of your head and all at once your manners flooded into your brain again, “Please, come in.”
You sheepishly opened the door further, allowing the two High Lords and High Lady to grace your apartment. The Illyrians crossed the threshold last. Muscular, leathery wings rippled with power and prestige and it was incredible they managed to stay upright, let alone keep them from dragging on the floor.
You made a mental note to revisit some old anatomy texts on winged fae.
“I um,” You hurried to the kitchen, hearing the kettle start to screech, “I apologize. I wasn’t prepared for guests.” The screaming stopped and you remembered that you didn’t have any matching tea sets.
You reached into the cupboards, face blushing at the assortment of novelty mugs you’d acquired over the years. Hardly fit for a children’s tea party let alone some of the most powerful fae to have ever existed.
“There will be no apologies from you, tonight, my dear.” Helion said with a charming smile, “Not after we’ve barged into your home uninvited and taken over your dining table.”
From over the island you saw that Helion had already settled down at the table, the others following suit. Everyone except for the Shadowsinger.
He lingered by the kitchen archway, keeping a respectful distance as you poured boiling water into the teapot over a mixture of chrysanthemum and rosehip.
“Would you like any help?” He gestured to the tray now loaded with the teapot, cups, and a platter of biscuits that shook in your hands.
“Oh,” You stared at his outstretched hand, soft black leather molded over graceful fingers. “No, that’s alright. I can do it. But thank you for offering.” You stood face to face with him, silently begging him with your eyes to move to the table with the others so you wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of touching him.
His hand quickly dropped to his side, then slid behind his back. You caught the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masked it.
“There are some cookies in the living room!” You said a little too loudly, “On top of the coffee table. If-if you wouldn’t mind bringing those-” The Shadowsinger was already gone on his mission and you breathed a sigh of relief.
There were more books on the floor than swords on a battlefield. Azriel stepped over them gently, careful not to disturb the precarious arrangement. Books on anatomy, microbiology, human medicine, and magical theory flared outward, tracing the path of Y/n’s mind. Azriel walked it with wonder at the brilliance hidden within the midnight thoughts that had been spilled on paper, before being organized later on with a loving hand. Because that’s what this all spelled out to him - some chaotic, maddening love. He was almost jealous not to be on the receiving end of it… almost.
He saw the platter on the table, but ignored it for the pile of books by the windowsill. These ones were different from the rest. Older and more worn. The bindings were cracked and flexible after being read hundreds of times. He could even trace the faint outlines of your fingers on the leather bindings where natural oils had eaten away at the dye.
He read over the titles and committed them to memory for no other reason than the fact that he liked things that had been well loved.
“I made a mistake don’t-”
Azriel straightened up, color washing over his cheeks as he turned to face you in a sea of paper and leather.
Without thinking, he’d fallen into old habits of poking through people’s belongings. There was a reason Rhysand had made him Spymaster of the Night Court after all.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Did you eat a cookie?” You blurted out in a panic.
“No, no I didn’t.”
Your shoulders dropped in relief, one hand brushing back your hair. Azriel caught sight of your ink stained fingertips, and the faint mark they left on your temple.
“Oh thank the Mother.” You muttered under your breath, stealing a glance over your shoulder to the dining room where Helion was playing host in your stead and doing a far better job than you would have been capable of.
“Are they poisoned?” Azriel asked, but the joke fell flat upon seeing the horror in your face.
“No! No, that's not why-I should explain myself better. I would never dare try and poison you. Or anyone for that matter!” You scrunched your eyes shut, face burning brighter than the sun at noon.
I’m a fool. I’m making a fool of myself. He’s going to think I’m an absolute idiot. And right after Helion called me a gifted researcher. What a fucking lie.
Azriel, the blessing in disguise that he was, gave you a moment to collect yourself, pretending to find more interest in a volume on snake venom that was laid open on the ottoman.
“A friend baked those for me.” You finally said.
Azriel nodded, a faint smile gracing his face and it caught you off guard. He was beautiful, there was no doubting it so long as you had eyes. What had surprised you was the faint slivers of warmth behind the facade of the cold, brooding Shadowsinger. It was… surprisingly comforting to be standing in a room with him, just the two of you. It was certainly better than the party you’d unceremoniously winnowed out of earlier that day.
“I would never hold it against you if you wanted to save those for yourself.”
Your lips twisted in disgust, “Oh gods no, Cherp is a terrible cook.”
“Cherp?”
“He’s another Librarian I know.” Probably the closest thing to a friend I have. But you weren’t about to tell the Shadowsinger that. “He specializes in chemistry and food history.”
“He’s a food historian?”
“Yes.”
“And yet he’s a terrible cook?” The Shadowsinger tilted his head to the side.
The corner of your mouth tipped up, “The worst.”
“How is that possible?”
You gave it a thought, eyes darting around the walls like the answer was hidden behind paint, “Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, um,” You weren’t sure what to call him.
“Azriel. Call me, Azriel.”
“Azriel.” You said, testing out the shape of his name. You liked it.
“Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, Azriel?”
He cocked his head to the side, “I do not.”
“Thousands, Azriel. Thousands. If I told you to bake a cake with an egg, would you know I meant a chicken egg?” This time you didn’t wait for an answer, “Because you’d be surprised how quickly facts we consider ‘common knowledge’ disappear. Will people know we meant chicken eggs 1 million years from now? Perhaps not! All this to say that when Cherp follows recipes, he usually doesn’t have the knowledge to make it correctly and they turn out bland at best, inedible and poisonous at worst.”
Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, prompting you to explain further, “He once spent ten years researching the evolution of average spoon sizes because so many of his recipes were measured in spoonfuls.”
Azriel smirked, “Is this what you academics get yourselves so worried about?”
You couldn’t tell if he was ridiculing you or not, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes said he wasn’t. “Well we...among other things, yes, I suppose that is something we concern ourselves with…”
“Y/n!” Helion called from the other room, “Stop romancing the Shadowsinger and join us at the table. It’s a futile effort. I’ve been trying for centuries.”
Your face turned a brighter shade of red as you watched Azriel pick his way through the empty spots on the floor. You pressed yourself against the wall to let him pass, a fact that didn’t escape his notice. And when he took a seat at the table, you ignored the unoccupied seat next to him, preferring to stand behind the island like a woodland creature ready to dive into their den at a moment’s notice.
His lips flattened. He’d hoped to make you more comfortable around him after the disastrous events at the party, going so far as to hide the shadows that were clamoring for release. He should’ve known better than to assume one conversation about the historical accuracy of egg recipes would make that discomfort go away.
From your island you tossed pleasantries back and forth like it was a game. But you couldn’t help the stiffness in your posture, the hesitation in your voice when they asked you about your life.
“I’m a Librarian.” You’d first answered, as if it were all that needed to be said. But they pressed onwards, tried to make you laugh. Cassian, especially, liked to poke fun, and despite your best efforts, you laughed.
“All these libraries would make Nesta go feral. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself.”
“What kind of books does she like to read?” You asked, refilling the kettle as the cloudy sky outside darkened into a rich purple-black.
Cassian coughed, face turning red, “Romance.” He answered simply.
“Smutty romance.” The High Lord said, punching Cassian in the arm. His face turned redder.
“Lucky you,” Helion said with a wink that had Feyre bursting out into laughter. It was no secret that Helion had added Nesta onto his list of fae he’d one day like to have in his bed.
“There is an athenaeum that specializes in romance, and there’s no shortage of those sorts of novels… if you’re interested.” You said, hiding your face behind a sip of tea.
“And how would you know about that?” Feyre asked teasingly.
“I… am a Librarian. I know-I know things.” You sputtered unconvincingly. “I went once. Purely for research purposes.”
Azriel gave her a look, a look that said he somehow knew of the eight raunchy books that graced your bedside table and had been well-read indeed.
As the conversation evolved to less embarrassing topics, you were struck by the fact that you were actually enjoying yourself. It was a far cry from the parties that you’d previously been invited to. There was an ease to the Inner Circle. A familial love that flowed off them as easy as water off a whetstone. It was something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time.
Azriel noticed when you fell silent, your mind carried away to more sobering thoughts than Cassian’s most recent travels to the Human Lands. Feyre noticed as well and made her surprise at the time look natural and unscripted.
“Day Court members are early to bed and early to rise aren’t you? I’m sorry we’ve taken up so much of your time.” She said, gently pulling Rhysand up with her as she stood.
“No, not at all. Thank you for coming. I-I hope your daughter is doing well.” Was that an appropriate thing to say? Perhaps it was too threatening to comment on the wellbeing of a High Lord and High Lady’s child. But Feyre didn’t find any fault with that, a glassy look sliding over her eyes as Mor let Feyre into her mind so she could look at little Velaria dozing away in her aunt’s arms back home.
“She’s getting to be more and more of a handful everyday.”
“I wonder where she gets that from?” Cassian chimed in, throwing Rhysand a look as they collected their coats and slowly made their way over to the front door.
Rhysand threw his hand to his chest in indignation, “I was practically an angel.”
Cassian snorted, “More like the devil.”
Feyre rolled her eyes, shuffling the pair out the door into the still night.
Azriel once again lingered behind, the last to leave behind Helion. He stepped out into the night-chilled air, the edges of him disappearing like the darkness had come to reclaim him.
“It was lovely to meet you, Y/n, the Librarian.” He said, dipping into a shallow bow.
“It was lovely to meet you, Azriel…the Shadowsinger.”
He smiled shyly, then froze, the smile slipping off his face into a look of shock. You glanced over your shoulder, missing the explosion of shadows that spilled out from him.
You leapt back upon feeling their cool touch wrapping around you. There was a curiosity to the way they wound themselves through your hair and got tangled up in the folds of your dress. But thankfully, they carried no memories with them. No feelings but a faint relief and comfort that washed over you and gave you back your breath. For the first time in years you were experiencing a touch that you could handle. A touch that was stillness and peace.
“Is everything alright?” You finally looked back at Azriel, his eyes blown open and panicked.
He was not a man of many words. Never had been, never would be. But he wished he could speak everything on his mind.
You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re the one I’ve been waiting over 500 hundred years for.
But when he saw the concern in your eyes, the gentle tilt of your head that exposed the curve of your neck, he knew it wasn’t the time.
“I-I have to go.”
This time it was his turn to disappear. He swallowed his words, forced down the bond that now burned in his chest with the light of a thousand suns, and fled past the shocked faces of his family members before shooting off into the night sky.
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
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Author's Note:
Does this batboy deserve a nerdy mate to tease and have fun with? Yes. I will take no criticism (just kidding if you have thoughts about how my writing is, let me know, just be kind and respectful about it).
Love,
Florence B.
Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 2@auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalaluch @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees @eleganttravelercloud @ghostwritermia @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @fussel9913 @st0rmyt
#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x mate reader#inner circle#azriel acotar#the shadowsinger and the inkbird#acotar fanfiction#acotar#helion acotar#helion spell cleaver
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The Body Wearing Convention - Las Vegas
The BWA (Body Wearing Alliance) was formed 20 years ago when the internet was just starting to get popular. Those born with the rare ability of reducing people into wearable skins didn't knew there was more like them out there, but with the help of the internet they started to find others with the same ability, and soon it was created the BWC (Body Wearing Convention)
The Body Wearing Convention is a clandestine event that happens a few times every year, hidden from the prying eyes of the public, It is a secret event where they can gather, share stories, and find solace in the knowledge that they aren't alone in their power.
The BWC happens in a different country every time, for safety reasons, and the main two rules to participate in the convention is: To be a Skinwalker (That's how they call themselves) and to wear the body of a local from that place, that means you can't bring with yourself skins from home.
Currently the secret Alliance is made up of 130 men around the world. But among these 130 members, there are 10 men who are very close friends with each other, they all share one thing in common: They are all gay.
Surprisingly they are the only gay guys of the entire Alliance, while all the others sought power and money, these 10 friends only care about getting hard in a new sexy body, It was like a sport for them. That's why they created an online group chat, where they can talk and share pictures of their current bodies with each other.
The location of the BWC this time is: USA - Las Vegas.
The 10 friends all arrived individually at the city in an early Friday, the convention would occur during the weekend, so they had to find a new skin quickly, and so they went straight on a hunt for a random local body.
Think of the BWC as the Met Gala, but for people who can turn you into a wearable hollow fleshsuit in a blink. There was this unspoken competition among them, to see who was wearing the hottest or richest skin, and this group of friends clearly didn't care about the last one...
_______________________________________
Carl is a 46 years old married gay man, he is part of the BWA for 17 years, and there is nothing Carl love more than wearing the bodies of fit straight guys. His husband knows he's a skinwalker and is totally fine with it. But because his husband is not a skinwalker, he is not allowed to go to the conventions, so Carl always travels alone.
(Friday, March 1st. 8:19 AM) Carl Sent A Photo
Carl: I just turned this hot Latino stud in the hotel parking lot. He was walking towards his car while talking on the phone with his girlfriend. That's when I slowly walked behind him and turned him. What do you guys think? Do I wear him well?
Harold: You're looking so hot. You always pick the most hottest guys.
Elijah: Wow, you already found a body? That was fast.
Joel: He's not that impressive, I would give him a 6/10 lol
Elijah: Stop being a jerk Joel. This guy is clearly a 9/10
Carl: Don't mind him Elijah, he's just jealous of my pick.
Joel: He's not really my type, today I'm looking for a sexy tough looking guy to wear.
Peter: Hot choice of skin Carl! Show us his dick please!
Carl: You will have to wait until the Convention to see it. But i'm telling you, he's really big and thick, I know you're gonna love sucking it.
_______________________________________
David is 34 years old and he is part of the BWA for 13 years.
He first found out about his ability when his homophobic stepbrother was trying to beat him up, David closed his eyes and tried to protect his head, but when he opened his eyes, he saw his hot stepbrother lying on the floor completely deflated. David had the most fun years living the life of his douchebag of a stepbrother, until one day, his stepbrother just "disappeared"
(Friday, March 1st. 9:46 AM) David Sent A Photo:
David: I made two new bodysuits. I saw the handsome blond one at the hotel's pool, he was trying to seduce some girls by showing off his hot body, he just didn't knew he was actually seducing a skinwalker. To get him, I first had to convert this cute room service attendant, after I put him on, I got access to his room and walked inside. I think I'm going to use the attendant tonight for some fun.
Elijah: Oh, the good old room service method. It works every time.
David: It was you who taught me this method back in 2011 when I was still a new member of the BWA.
Damian: It brings back good memories from that one time where we all stayed at the same hotel in the 2011 Convention. Good times.
_______________________________________
Peter Is a 40 years old gay bottom who love to turn big hunky men into Bodysuits and act like a slut in their bodies. He is part of the Body Wearing Alliance for 9 years.
(Friday, March 1st. 11:28 AM) Peter Sent A Photo:
Peter: Do I look cute? This is Ramón, I turned him at an alley while he was jogging, he's a bodybuilder. I'm gonna make such a good use of his muscles. I'm sure you guys are going to love the muscles in his ass the most.
Joel: I love how you always pick the most biggest guys.
Daniel: I feel bad for this poor bastard, of all the Skinwalkers, he was picked by the most perverted one.
Peter: lol
Carl: He's huge. I'm going to enjoy burying my new thick latino dick in your bodybuilder's ass.
Harold: I really like his pecs. I want to suck on them when we meet tomorrow.
Peter: It's always the pecs for you isn't, Harold? lol
Harold: You're not lying. Actually I just saw this hot guy at the mall and he seems to have very big pecs. I'm going to follow him.
_______________________________________
Harold is a 28 years old scrawny gay man, he has no muscle definition, but he love pecs and it was what he first looked for in a body: Their huge pecs. If the guy didn't had two big meaty pecs, he wound't want them.
He went to the local LA mall to hunt for a body, he knew that the mall was always the perfect place for hunting skins. And he was proven just right when he saw this big and tall hunk walk inside a clothing store. Harold smirked as he entered the store and followed the man.
(Friday, March 1st. 1:05 PM) Harold Sent A Photo:
Harold: Who want some milk boys? Daddy got all the milkers now.
Peter: Oh my god, look at the size of these tits. I will let you suck on Ramón's tits if you let me suck yours.
Harold: This sounds like a good deal.
Carl: Very nice choice of skin! Good job, Harold.
Peter: Can you send a video of you playing with those hairy tits and pinching his nipples? Please?
(1:15 PM, Harold Sent A 20 Seconds Video To The Group Chat)
In the vídeo he was in the middle of the store, squeezing his new pair of meaty hairy pecs, he lifted one of them and let go, watching them bounce, then he pinched his left nipple and let out a deep loud moan. Without feeling any shame for being in a public space. It wasn't technically him who was being humiliated in public, so he didn't cared.
_______________________________________
Damian and Rashad are a black gay couple (47, 49) they have been together for 11 years and they both had met each other during a Body Wearing Convention back in 2013. It was very known to everyone that they only turned white men into Bodysuits, it was their favorite type of skins. So there was no diversity in their Bodysuit closet, only white men.
(Friday, March 1st. 3:07 PM) Damian Sent A Photo:
Damian: You guys know how Rashad and I love to hunt white boys, so what better place to find some white skins than at the LA beach? We saw this group of young frat boys surfing and we converted these two 19 years olds, they were just the most handsome ones in their group. Turns out they are twin brothers.
David: This is such a hot pair, and the fact they are brothers makes it even more hot!
Carl: I want to fuck the long haired one with my thick latino dick while I pull his hair.
Damian: I like this Idea. His long hair would be great to use as a handle for a hard fuck. I might even try It later tonight.
David: Send us a video if you do.
_______________________________________
Joel is the youngest one of the group, at only 19 he already has a count of 86 Bodysuits, and he's part of the Body Wearing Alliance for only 1 year. That's why, the BWA leader tasked Elijah, a veteran in the art of wearing bodies, to watch for Joel and not let the young man expose their secret society.
(Friday, March 1st. 5:14 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:
Joel: My new bodysuit is still deflating. I can't wait to finally wear him and show him to you guys. He's so hot.
Carl: You gave my bodysuit a 7/10, so he better be a 10/10.
Isaac: Wow he's packing.
Harold: When he deflate, please send us a pic of you in him. I want to see if his front looks as good as his back side.
(Friday, March 1st. 5:40 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:
Joel: I'm inside him now. I saw this sexy daddy at the hotel's bar. I waited for him to go to his room and then I followed him, as soon as he opened the door I converted him, right there at the door's entrance, I mean, of course he took a bit longer to deflate, so I had to drag him inside. I actually wanted to wear a scary looking soldier that I saw at the bar, but Elijah didn't let me. Still, I'm very glad with my pick.
Harold: Holly fuck!!!
Peter: He's a very sexy bodysuit. Wish I was there to give him a very special room service.
Carl: Where is Elijah by the way? Should he not be with you?
Joel: Elijah Is outside, I don't know where he went, but he said he was going to be back soon.
Carl: Did he picked a bodysuit already?
Joel: Yes he did, a young and hot fuckboy. Let me send a pic of him.
Joel Sent A Photo:
Joel: This is the body Elijah picked to wear at the convention tomorrow. I think he got this one at the hotel's bathroom maybe? I'm not sure. I hope he don't mind that I'm wearing his brand new skin.
Elijah: Boy, you're in big trouble!
Joel: Shit, I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind. I'm gonna take him off.
Elijah: Don't you dare taking him off, I'm not going to wear him anymore, I found a better body to wear tomorrow. wait for me, I'm getting up there right now.
(Friday, March 1st. 6:22 PM) Elijah Sent A Photo:
Elijah: You don't want to disobey me in my new body, boy, so you better be on your knees when I get inside, I'm horny and this guy have big balls full of cum.
Joel: Yes sir!
Peter: Oh yes sir indeed!
Carl: lol you're fucked Joel.
_______________________________________
Isaac is a 24 years old gay man, and like everyone else in this group, he was addicted to wearing hunky men. He is more reserved and shy, and don't talk much in the group chat. However, he enjoys jerking off while viewing the photos his friends would send to the group chat.
He might be the most shy and reserved in the group, but once he's wearing a handsome hunk, he becomes a whole new different person, a more dominant and cocky one.
(Friday, March 1st. 8:37 PM) Isaac Sent A Photo:
Isaac: Seeing you guys wearing such hot bodies is getting me so freaking hard. I can't wait for tomorrow. I got this one at the gym's lockerroom. Who wants to take care of my boner?
Peter: I do! I want to get on my knees in Ramón's body and let you use his slutty mouth.
Harold: You're looking so damn hot, Isaac, good pick.
Carl: Was you working out? Your skin looks very sweaty.
Isaac: I was. I wanted to test out my new muscles.
Carl: Great. Can't wait for the convention tomorrow, where we can finally see each other's bodies in person and have the orgy of the year.
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the offside rule || j.h.s
Summary: Jake learns that his girl is crazy about football, but not the kind he expected.
Warnings: jake being a sweetheart, no use of y/n
Word Count: 1.5k
Pairings: Jake Seresin x f!reader
Authors Note: This is inspired by @roosterforme's Sundays Are for the Boys and @teacupsandtopgun's Jake and Flick universe. This is also very self-indulgent and somewhat based on parts of my life.
“What are you doing?” Jake emerged from the bathroom, only to find his girlfriend on the couch, watching what looked like soccer.
“I’m watching football, what does it look like?” She didn’t take her eyes off the screen as she reached for the beer bottle on the coffee table.
Jake didn’t know how to respond. He knew what soccer was, he wasn’t an idiot but he never knew that his girl enjoyed the sport.
“Soccer, baby. It’s called soccer.”
Jake knew it was the wrong thing to say as she turned around, an unimpressed look on her face.
“I’m going to forgive you this time. But in the future, for your information, it’s called football. Not your ridiculous term soccer.” She was all business, a sharp edge to her tone that Jake hadn’t really experienced in their relationship so far.
There was a sparkle in her eyes that told him she wasn’t as serious as her tone suggested though. Jake flopped down on the couch next to her, plucking the beer out of her hands. “Is this MLS?”
She snorted, rolling her eyes as she looked him up and down. “MLS is a shit league. It only got interesting since Messi signed for Inter Miami and it’s still shit. You know, we call it the retirement league because it’s where all the greats come to wind down and just kick around.”
“Hey!” Jake protested. “Doesn’t it have a somewhat good reputation?”
She shook her head. “Baby, I love you but you’ve been greatly deceived.” She patted his cheek, opening another beer, seeing as he had stolen hers.
Jake grumbled, sinking lower into the couch. Granted, his soccer knowledge was limited but he thought that MLS at least was a popular league.
“What’s this then?” He pointed to the screen where the game was playing.
His girl clapped excitedly, tossing the cap onto the table. “This is the greatest league in the world. I give you the Premier League.” She dramatically spread her arms, as if showing him something of great importance.
In a way, Jake guessed that she was. He had no idea she was this passionate about this but he found it endearing that she did.
“I recognise that, it’s England, yeah?” Jake was 80% certain he was right but he could also be wrong. Like he said, his knowledge of soccer was limited.
“Yes! PL is played in England and it’s hands down the most popular and watched league. But there’s obviously others as well.”
He was a bit intrigued and Jake also wanted to know more about something that made his girl this excited. “Others?”
“Oh, you’ve got La Liga for example, and Ligue 1. And then there’s Serie A and Bundesliga. My dad used to watch a lot of Eredivisie too. He was a lifelong fan of Ajax.” She quieted down a bit at the end, a sad smile on her face as she remembered her dad.
Jake pressed a kiss to her shoulder, hand finding hers. He gave a supportive squeeze. He understood now why this was so important to her.
“Did you guys watch a lot together?” He asked as the game seemingly was paused, the players leaving the field.
“Yeah. He took me to my first game when I was 4. I barely remember it but I remember the feeling. And he coached my team for as long as I played.”
That surprised Jake. “You used to play?” It wasn’t something that had come up but he guessed it was somewhat of a sore subject.
“From the age of five til I was fifteen, maybe sixteen,” she paused. “Uh, I quit playing when he got sick. He wanted me to continue but it just wasn’t the same. It was our thing and then all of a sudden he wasn’t there and..”
Jake pulled her into his arms, lips pressed to her forehead. “Baby, why haven’t you told me about this before? I would have loved to know more about football if I knew it meant this much to you.”
She smiled when he called it football and Jake counted it as a small victory. “I honestly don’t know. You’re more of an American football fan and I just figured you didn’t care about this.”
“I would have cared if you told me. Hell, I know you don’t really care about the Cowboys but you still hang out with me when they play. And wear the jersey.”
She laughed then, leaning back from his embrace but kept their hands intertwined. “I wear the jersey because I know it gets you all hot and bothered.”
“Well, that’s definitely a perk. You do look very good in blue.” Jake kissed her then, hands sneaking under her shirt to trace her skin.
She was blushing when they pulled apart and Jake grinned, proud to be the one to make her that way.
“So is Ajax your team?” He asked, playing with the hem of her shirt.
“No. As much as I respect and enjoy Dutch football, the Premier League always called to me more. And then I fell in love with Manchester United.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up, teasingly pinching her sides. “Fell in love, huh? That means I got competition?”
She rolled her eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you for the Red Devils.”
“Good. Is this them then?” He gestured towards the screen, where the game had resumed.
“No, they play Aston Villa tomorrow. This is Newcastle vs Arsenal.”
Jake watched as the team in black and white kicked the ball back and forth. “Okay, you’re going to have to explain this to me. I know nothing.”
She launched into the game, explaining what was happening as well as informing him about the rules and terms. Jake tried his best to keep up but figured he was going to have to do some independent studying to catch up.
If this was important to his girl, it was important to him. He watched as she kept on talking, gesturing back and forth with her hands, eyes alight with excitement.
“But there must be leagues outside of Europe, yeah?” He asked after learning that the ones she had rambled off earlier were all based in European countries.
“For sure, but those are the most popular ones. And considering how much of an impact the Champions League, Europa League and Conference League have, it’s difficult for leagues outside of Europe to compete.”
Jake’s mind was reeling, trying to piece all the information together. “Wait, Europa League and Champions League? Conference? Where’s that?”
“All of those are played by teams in Europe. You qualify for UCL when you win your league in your country, and the second tier goes on to play in the UEL and third tier in UECL.” At Jake’s confused expression, she smiled apologetically.
“Sorry, this is way overboard. How about we keep that for another day and we just keep to the basics for now?”
Jake breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes please.”
She handed him another beer, smiling softly.
“So, do I get a Manchester United jersey? It’s only fair, I got you a Cowboys one.” Jake asked.
He was comfortably leaning back against the armrest of the couch. Initially he had tried to get her to snuggle with him but quickly found out that she wasn’t going to sit still while watching the game.
“Babe, you’ll get a jersey when you deserve one. Maybe earlier if you can explain the offside rule to me.”
He was screwed then. “Never mind. I’ll wait.”
“It’s really not that difficult. A player would be seen as offside if their entire body is in front of the last defender of the opposing team, on the opposing team's half.”
Jake tried to imagine what it would look like but his mind came up blank. “You’re just speaking gibberish, that doesn’t make sense.”
She smiled softly, a gleam in her eye. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you a football fan. Just you wait.”
“I can’t wait. I’m also very excited to see you watch your team play.”
The game was now over and she climbed into his lap, hands finding the back of his head. “Oh, you’re in for a wild ride.”
Making the most of their position, Jake grabbed a hold of her thighs as he stood up, ignoring her squeal as he headed towards the bedroom. “How about I give you a ride right now?”
Two months later, when Jake officially got the offside rule right, a package was waiting for him on the kitchen table when he got home.
His heart swelled as he pulled out a bright red Manchester United jersey, embroidered with his callsign on the back. There was a note inside the box as well and Jake laughed as he read what his girlfriend had written.
Now you’re a real football fan. Glory glory Man United!
Ps. Come find me ;)
“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” He called, jersey in hand as he stalked the house.
Her laughter echoed through the house. “Come claim your prize, cowboy.”
Taglist: @wildbornsiren @ryebecca @imjess-themess @reels-and-wheels @antiquitea @writercole @hederasgarden @yanna-banana @bobfloydsbabe @hollandorks @anniesocsandgeneralstore @ereardon @luminousnotmatter @roosterscock @thedroneranger @fandomxpreferences @honkytonk-hangman @princessmisery666 @bradshawsbitch @a-reader-and-a-writer @green-socks @angstybluejay @seresinhangmanjake @ayorooster@notroosterbradshaw @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @girl-in-the-chairs-void @bradshawbabes @unhinged-btch @horseshoegirl @sadpetalsstuff @bradshawbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @ummjustfics @septemberrie @somenamewithepineapple @seresinsweetie @crescentwolf @seresinhangmanjake @waklman @roosterforme @rosiahills22 @dempy @i0veless @ilovewriting06 @kmc1989 @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming @hangmanssunnies
#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#fe writes#fic: the offside rule#top gun maverick fic#jake seresin fic#jake seresin
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obviously the answer to this is to be curious and proactive now that i have greater access to the world around me, but i do feel a kind of bitter grief whenever i'm confronted by evidence of how much of popular culture and just general knowledge about the world around me i missed out on growing up by being near-isolated in a household where my information intake was fairly strictly monitored, and most of what i accessed had to be done secretly, and in fear, for my entire childhood. i had no friends, no role models except my parents and their close friends - few of whom were particularly inspiring or diverse in their behaviours or views - and my education was fine, but it was all pretty standard by-the-book stuff that didn't encourage much independent thought on its own. if it hadn't been for the internet and the local library, i would have been even more cut off from the outside world. and now i find myself constantly confronted with things that people assume are common knowledge, but for me are brand new never-before-seen revelations. it's embarrassing. it's not like i grew up in a sterile white room cut off from society, i just didn't know that there was more available to me until i left home. and now i'm stuck playing catch-up on things most people are already familiar with, knowing that isolation and neglect may be reasonable excuses for ignorance, but they won't change the fact that i am ignorant, and small-minded, and naive.
#🐉#this is something ive been thinking about for a few days#it is what it is and i just gotta play the cards i was given#but i hate how empty i am as a person intellectually socially emotionally and spiritually
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every—lesser known—canon fact about Levi Ackerman.
infamously over the years, there have been countless false rumors about Levi in particular out of the cast. many of them have become popular, even ubiquitous, and it's annoying!
and also disheartening when you find out it's not true....
and hurtful when you realize it was - sometimes - made up by trolls.
so i'm making this post<3
credit to @levisfavoriteacup for the idea!!
*disclaimer: i'm not perfect, so this may not be Everything™️ but I am confident that it's the majority of information available, and that it's trustworthy. :)
First the most populars. There is no evidence across interviews nor other content over the years that:
Levi is ugly, and is considered ugly in AOT.
Nope. See here: (tumblr link), or:
Isayama finished his first sketch of Levi mostly on a whim, but the moment he drew his face, he had a sense it would work well / he knew he had something good. Something told him: "the yaoi fangirls are going to like this one".
As time passed and his popularity grew, Isayama caught onto this and wanted to portray him more attractively (in multiple ways) to the viewer/reader.
But from the beginning, this was something of the goal. He is short because Isayama had in mind what young women/fangirls in Japan consider attractive: a man with a higher-pitch voice; has a small face; and who is "short but strong".
In the world of AOT, he (in a nutshell) is mostly considered plain or awkward, but combined with his reputation and style, he's very charming. "He cleans up nice." Overall, it is positive :) But more importantly, realistic I think.
He's also something of a celebrity. People who advertise their product as being used by him are more successful; when he's seen in a shop, this by itself is considered "advertising" and more people come in. Quote: ""the tea that the hero bought”".
He's definitely not a 2/10 at any rate😇.
—the 24th episode of Naoki Yoshida's Anime Plan, 2013 / Interview with Frau Magazine, 2013 | Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure
Levi’s type would be someone who’s "tough, feminine and sensual".
Levi's type "might" be tall people. But context matters, because in multiple translations "don't you think?" and "might be" are thrown around a lot. Isayama isn't known for his clarity. When asked, he practically said the question right back.
—fan Q&A from a festival in Betsumaga, Aug.2014
What this quote might have come from is a statement by the author of an article Isayama was likely involved in. I can't say this is 100% canon, but in my opinion it's a little less canon than the Smartpass AUs; if those are sub-canon, then this is sub-sub-canon:
Levi's romantic type is someone who walks three steps behind him, and likes cleaning.
In the past, in Japanese culture, for a wife to walk three steps behind her husband implied highly traditional gender roles. What this is much more likely to mean is that Levi's romantic type is someone who will let him protect them, or will run away and survive even if it costs his life. (And they have to like cleaning.)
—the article is from 2013, and no longer exists. but the link was used as recently as 2021 as a source in this post by a reliable translator. I've found this quote also in varying qualities of translation across Japanese and English forums, so to the best of my knowledge, it's reliable.
Levi's cravat is a piece of his mother's dress + he was wearing her dress when Kenny found him.
This is a popular rumor that Isayama has never confirmed (i think it is true, tho.)
December 25th was chosen by his comrades because he doesn't know his actual birthday.
The guidebook only states that it is his birthday. I can't find any more context on this.
—AOT Guidebook; p.256
His character profile:
—AOT Guidebook; p.78–79
His name is Hebrew, and means "attached" or to be "joined".
Isayama came up with Levi's name after watching American documentary "Jesus Camp". (It's about a summer camp-type program where evangelical Christian children are taught extreme beliefs. One of the children was named Levi.) Isayama heard it and thought it sounded cool.
—Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | 2010 blogpost by Isayama
Levi is in his early 30s (in s3/RtS/volume 19).
–Interview, Universal Studios Japan’s SNK THE REAL exhibition, 2016 | confirmation
If Kuchel was still alive, Levi would want to make sure she had an easy life. This means specifically filial piety, a concept exclusive to the East: he would fulfill his duties as a son for her.
(tldr he's a mama's boy :3)
—Bessatsu Magazine, 2019
Levi would have thin facial hair, but he prefers not to, so he shaves frequently.
—January 2020 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 124)
He doesn't like coffee milk or coffee jelly. They're out of the question even.🤐
—July 2018 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 106)
He just gets depressed when he drinks coffee. Maybe he loves tea that much?
He stopped calling Hange names like 'shitty glasses' since they became commander because he "seems" to respect their position that much.
However, a Smartpass story delves deeper into this (and states as I suspected):
[After Hange makes a joke] "Since becoming the commander succeeding Erwin, they’d toned down on their past speech and behaviour that had a touch of tomfoolery; Levi understanding that they were nevertheless trying to maintain the self “that was the case then”, also loses the will to curse at them."
+
"In the past, Hange had a Hange-type dream, and should have been progressing to that purpose. That lately, was it the weight of the office of commander, or was it due to the reality that is “all the world was our enemy”, their manner had changed considerably."
—May 2017 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 92) | Goodnight. Sweet dreams, dear. Act II: Levi
If he and Kenny had fought one-on-one, Levi would've won.
—December 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 87)
intermission: all about tea
His favorite "food" is black tea. No actual food.
He doesn't add sugar or milk to his tea because he considers it too expensive—which it is canonically. Despite this, he will share his tea with his comrades (his original squad as far as is seen).
Even though he's Captain, he'd rather drink it straight (the implications of which are he's a hardworking man, like that of a farmer. aka, this makes him seem humble).
If a time of peace ever came, Levi wants to open a black tea shop (he said in a dreamlike way, not so much based in reality).
He also knows a good amount of facts and history about it. He's a tea enthusiast!!
Levi receives pilfered tea in shipments monthly, thanks to Erwin.
—AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 2 | Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure | Bessatsu Magazine, Jan.2014 | September 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 84) | AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman | The Case of the Corps Tea Party - File No. 09 Levi's Side (3/3) | sugar and milk in tea from the Japanese perspective
Levi, out of his original squad, found Petra cute/sweet in the general sense of the word "kawaii".
Like Levi's romantic type however, this was sort of a non-answer to the question (of whether Levi thought she was cute).
—2014 interview
After RtS, Levi seems to consider Hange and the 104th his family.
—AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman
He wears a cravat because Isayama based part of his design off Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'.
He looks "delicate" because of his size and weight, but he's so powerful because [in issues before the reveal of the Ackerman bloodline] of "invisible power" at work.
—January 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 76)
The best way to describe the way he thinks is to compare him to the main character from the movie The Hurt Locker (2008).
His character was born from Hiei from the manga 'Yuyu Hakusho', and Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. The former was the basis for his appearance (especially his eyes), and the latter was the basis for his personality. Firstly though, Isayama had an image of a small man being the strongest.
—Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) / Brutus Magazine (2014)
He is something of a protagonist (especially in s3p1).
— Animedia, June 2018
His favorite tool (in general...?) is microfiber cloths (for dust I guess. Levi has no need for weapons :3)
—July 2015 issue of Bessatsu Magazine
He will usually laugh/smile when he sees convenient cleaning goods (i.e., vacuum cleaners? feather dusters? ((cuz he's a shorty?❤️))
—Bessatsu Magazine, Dec. 2013
He does want to be taller sometimes.
He gets eager to clean up after meals rather than cook at all. He can cook, though.
—Bessatsu Magazine, Aug.2014 | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018
Levi mostly couldn't adapt to the changes that came about after the truth was discovered. Only he wears mostly the same uniform, cape, and blades.
After RtS, Levi personally retrieved Erwin's remains himself, for whom there was a special memorial service.
After Eren (inadvertently) called him a "tiny old man" in season 3, Levi didn't care, but when he thought of it by himself later, he was hurt (unclear exactly why).
Levi's father, most likely one of Kuchel's customers, is an insignificant man who's short. That's where Levi's height comes from. His face comes from his mother.
At the start of season 4, Levi didn't change much compared to the 104th because he's turning into an "old man" who'd rather stick with his flip phone so to speak.
He "doesn't break out into cold sweats". AKA he's always calm under pressure.
He considers prostitution to be an ordinary job because of his childhood.
Levi's vision is very sharp, way above average.
He thought Eren's new look beginning season 4 was unclean/dirty (in more ways than one perhaps).
—fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018
He has slight bouts of insomnia.
He never snaps/explodes when he's angry. But he does get angry or grumpy a lot, in general.
He doesn't sing. It's more likely he would dance.
If he was a fan of Momoiro Clover Z (jpop girl group), his favorite would be Momoka.
When/if he drinks, he has a high tolerance, but he can get a little drunk :)
One thing he highly hates and fears is mold.
He is the one who ordered Armin to dress as Historia during the uprising.
His blood type is A. Blood types are much like horoscopes in Japanese culture, and Levi's is as such: kichōmen, or well-organized; he likes keeping things neat, but can be stubborn and stressed out easily.
Whether he eats enough or has a good diet? He is "a bit lax".
Maybe he forgets to eat sometimes, or has a low appetite.
When Levi bathes, he goes for a quick shower then soak in hot water, which takes about ten minutes. Like a bird :'))
He on any given night gets about 2-3 hours of sleep.
He thought Eren was the best at cleaning (in season 3 / uprising arc).
Because of his childhood in the Underground, Levi has a preoccupation/obsession with cleaning (specifically to ward off disease).
He also doesn't have any pajamas, mostly keeping day clothes on when he goes to sleep - which is in "his" chair.
Levi cuts his own hair using clippers. (Something like:)
He's aware Oluo imitated him, and found it annoying.
Levi's horoscope (in general) as a Capricorn:
Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - Levi. He possesses warmth in the midst of a dispassionate nature, and he is capable of leadership without verbal expression – both of which are special qualities of a Capricorn. Capricorns tend to hold certain levels of authority, even if they must carry out somewhat unreasonable tactics while in such positions. But when such authority is backed up with actual abilities, a Capricorn can gain Levi’s type of confidence and also be put on a pedestal by those around them.
However, Capricorns won’t be dependent on others, much less trust them easily. They don’t hold high expectations and thus never feel a sense of failure.
Levi’s faults include the inability to express himself clearly. Even though he wants to encourage his companions, he always speaks in a roundabout way, and without Hanji’s translation it’s nearly impossible to understand Levi’s intended meaning.
Even though he is dependable in most situations, when it comes to love/romance, he expresses himself clumsily/awkwardly.
—FRaU Magazine, Aug.2014. | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018 | Levi: Close-up Report (Part One) | Translator
*the horoscope wasn't written by Isayama, but was published alongside canon information, and it's also not factually wrong, so I'm including it.
The dark circles under Levi’s eyes are to convey the “self-destruction” he takes on to reach the “standard” of Humanity’s Strongest.
—Interview on the topic of Levi, May 2015
His 'liege'—as Eren is to Mikasa, and Uri is to Kenny—is Erwin.
He is afraid of making deep relationships because of the cruel world he lives in; he can't know when someone he cares for will die or how soon.
That 'gap' left in Levi's heart by Kenny's death was filled by his squad (the 104th).
If Levi hadn't joined the Survey Corps, he would've been a "very irresponsible person". Risky with his life perhaps?
As a kid, Levi used to make himself stronger in order to receive praise from Kenny. When he abandoned him, he wondered what his strength was even for. He was able to find peace with Kenny after his death.
In CH72, the reason Levi kicked the shit out of Eren and Jean is because of his argument with Erwin earlier.
He knows he's a slave to his own strength, aka the idea of being a hero. He realizes it when Kenny asked what he's a slave to in s3/ch69.
—Answers Guidebook, Aug.2016
If he ever changed his appearance, the one thing Levi couldn't be able to give up is his undercut :') He would grow out the top and tie it up :3
—Oyama homecoming event Q&A in 2014 | 2 | 3
Levi knows how to use a gun, but he "places more trust" in knives.
—Bessatsu Magazine, 2019
Levi tolerates saunas. But instead of enjoying himself he seems to see it as a test of endurance. (LOL)
—Bessatsu Magazine, 2020
Levi has newspaper-level handwriting that he practices often. He's very conscious of it and being connected back to the Underground.
—AU Smartpass TEXT: Levi’s Signature
Isayama had considered killing Levi around the time of the thunderspear explosion. (As always) Isayama deliberated with his editors whether or not it'd be meaningful if he died, and they decided it wouldn't be.
—Kawakubo interview, 2021
Specially, Levi holds his swords in a reverse grip "his own way" since he wasn't officially trained.
—Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017
Levi forcefully bathes Hange by knocking them unconscious.
—AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1
Levi is 4 at the time that Kuchel dies.
—What the director informed Kamiya Hiroshi of on set
His character song is called "Dark Side of the Moon", found on YouTube here. Translated lyrics here.
how to draw Levi:
—AOT Guidebook; p.229 | +Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017
#please share... this took days of time and effort#levi aot#snk levi#snk levi ackerman#levi ackerman#levi attack on titan#captain levi#rivaille heichou#levi heichou#captain levi ackerman#levi rivaille#rivaille ackerman#aot manga#snk#levi art#levi shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#levi.thoughts
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what makes a poem a poem? does it have to be written in a certain way? is this question a poem if i want it to be?
Fun question! This is just my personal sense as an avid reader and less-avid writer of poetry, but for me it’s useful to distinguish (roughly) between poetry as a genre and poetry as an attitude or philosophy through which language and the world can be understood. And of course these two go hand in hand. I see poetry the genre as essentially a type of literature where we as readers are signaled, somehow, to pay closer attention to language, to rhythm, to sound, to syntax, to images, and to meaning. That attentive posture is the “attitude” of broader poetic thinking, and while it’s most commonly applied to appreciate work that’s been written for that purpose, there’s nothing stopping us from applying that attentiveness elsewhere. Everywhere, even! That’s how you eventually end up writing poetry for yourself, after all. There’s a quote from Mary Ruefle floating around on here that a lot of folks have probably already seen, but it immediately comes to mind with this ask:
“And when you think about it, poets always want us to be moved by something, until in the end, you begin to suspect that a poet is someone who is moved by everything, who just stands in front of the world and weeps and laughs and laughs and weeps.”
Similarly, after adopting the attentive posture of poetics, there’s plenty of things that can feel or sound like a poem, even when they perhaps were not written with that purpose in mind. I’ve seen a couple of these “found poems” on here that are quite fun—this one, for example. The meaning and enjoyment you may derive from the language of a found poem isn’t any less real than that derived from a poem written for explicitly poetic purposes, so I don’t see why it shouldn’t be called poetry.
That said, I do think that if you’re going to go out and start looking for poetry everywhere, it’s still important to have a foundation in the actual language work of it all. Now, this doesn’t mean it has to be “written in a certain way” at all! But it does mean that in order to cultivate the attentiveness that’s vital to poetry, one needs to understand what makes language tick, down at its most basic levels. It will make you better at reading poetry, better at writing it, and better at spotting it out in the wild.
Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook is an extraordinary resource to new writers and readers, and a great read for more experienced folks as well. Mary Oliver’s most popular poems are all to my knowledge in free verse, and yet you might be surprised to find her deep appreciation for metrical verse (patterns of stressed/unstressed syllables), as well as for the most minute devices of sound. In discussing the so-called poetry of the past, she writes,
“Acquaintance with the main body of English poetry is absolutely essential—it is the whole cake, while what has been written in the last hundred years or so, without meter, is no more than an icing. And, indeed, I do not really mean an acquaintanceship—I mean an engrossed and able affinity with metrical verse. To be without this felt sensitivity to a poem as a structure of lines and rhythmic energy and repetitive sound is to be forever less equipped, less deft than the poet who dreams of making a new thing can afford to be.”
In another section, after devoting lots of attention to the sounds at work in Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, she writes,
“Everything transcends from the confines of its initial meaning; it is not only the transcendence in meaning but the sound of the transcendence that enables it to work. With the wrong sounds, it could not have happened.”
I hope all this helps to get across my opinion that what makes a poem a poem is not just about the author's intention, and not just about meaning (intended or attributed), but also about sound and rhythm and language and history, all coalescing into something that rises above the din of a language we would otherwise grow tired of while out in our day-to-day lives.
I'll always have more to say but I'm cutting myself off here! Thanks for the ask
#ask#discussion#does this even answer the question? lol#anyways even if you're not huge on mary oliver i still highly recommend a poetry handbook#i admit her poetry is only to my taste about 60-70% of the time. but her handbook is a great resource and can stand alone#i actually think oliver wrote a whole other book just about metrical verse too. for people who are into that#also if you're someone who's less interested in the question 'what is poetry?' and more into questions like#why is poetry? can poetry survive? what the fuck happened to poetics in the twentieth century?#i recommend the witness of poetry by czeslaw milosz#an older book—actually a collection of lectures—but an absolute game-changer for me#not a poll
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ASTRO OBSERVATIONS - MORE ABOUT THE STARS
Hey! My name is Monet. I wanted to share some more insight on the signs and some house placements. I hope you all enjoy!
Taurus suns are incredible listeners. They are big on gift giving and creating safe and sensual spaces for their partners. However they due tend to argue a lot, its the bull headed energy they have. Its an Adrenaline rush. Be careful not to be around them while their hot tempered, you might get a kick from the bull. On the bright side, their sensual personas is a gift from the cosmos. They can turn this trait into a gold mine. They have the energy to entice you with their words, their bodies and even the way they express themselves.
Jupiter in Aquarius individuals have a complex understanding of the cosmos. It's not typically understood by the masses but I mean it is in aquarius! Jupiter here shows an expansion in knowledge be it whatever it is they put their fingers on. The Midas Touch. Even if the odds are against them, they still have a notoriety to their character that most never saw coming. They change the odds to work in their favor due to a shift in mindset. Good luck bestows them when they go into odd, original territory. You never know what you might find!
Jupiter 10th House individuals have an urgency to be successful, this can be a painful placement to have because while they may have big dreams their is a ton of practicality that comes in with this placement. This placement can be quite depressive when they aren't sure how their plans for the future can commence. They have to work hard to get to this dream however they must take into account that things don't always happen so quickly. Jupiter in this house shows a person with a magnetic persona, where people will feel the good energy on you and will latch on to it. It doesnt quite matter what this character is doing, they will always have a respectable aura to the masses. It is their gift.
Sun in the 11th shows a person who is popular with the masses, however it has its quirks. These are the internet famous geeks. The ones who turn the trends into their favor. Pioneers in the originality train. They normally just have to be themselves and people will be attracted to them. Angel dust is literally sprinkled on their character. For social media of course ;) jk. On another end, these people are quick to join different organizations and groups. However they feel at the moment, they usually take a chance in whatever is not the ordinary. 11th house is ruled by uranus/aquarius naturally, so the 11th house suns have a knack for creating and/or being in spaces where they can connect to people who are different from them.
Neptune 12th housers, whew boy. You guys have a gift in the subconscious that goes untapped by the rest of the world. Your gift in seeing things that arent there, can be used in creative/practical outlets. I'd argue that you could just paint or draw, but its much bigger than that. Sometimes thats not what you're subconscious is looking for. It requires you to seek it. This house placement goes on journeys through the psyche, and in the physical it shows itself in a number of ways. Whether through people, art, locations. Doesn't matter. There is one thing that is always certain, that the imagination has a mission. And that's to bring it to life.
These people are good at reading the world because they are constantly rejected and ocratized on being different. The 'crazy' one. But the one who is also the most talented in astrology, occult, the stars, and mysticism. It's a gift not everyone gets, but it's something work noting. They challenge you too see the beyond, and help others tap into themselves . The escapist, they have others who try to escape with them, but it doesnt last. Be gentle with them, they have a lot going on in their mind. They just want to share it with someone.
Venus in Leo has a royal aura. Their charm can wow others and can make them fall in love easily. Their gift is in works of art but for them i do sense singing would be a great one for them. They don't need to have the 'best' voice. Just the confidence to keep going. Their magnetism is strongest during artistic associations because leo gets a knack out of being in the spotlight.
Mercury in the 3rd House has a significant tone to their voice. Its odd but its very distinctive that people enjoy listening. These people can also have a knack in playing instruments. Jazz style locations works for them. This is so the mind can relax as they are consistently on the go. Researching kills any acts of boredom easily, as this is a necessity for the mind.
#astrology thoughts#astrology observations#astro observations#astro thoughts#astro knowledge#astrology#venus in leo#jupiter in aquarius#jupiter in the tenth#sun in the 11th#taurus suns#scorpio#astrology signs#vedic astrology#sidereal astrology#deja's astro observations
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Chapter 31 of human Bill grudgingly enduring being the Pines' prisoner because the Henchmaniacs won't take his call: Summerween night! Everyone gets ridiculous costumes!
The Summerween Trickster's buddies are attempting to resurrect him. Robbie's making a music video. Bill's attempting to woo Ford back into friendship, to terrify Dipper with cursed knowledge, and to recover his dignity from THE most gentle chastising imaginable, and he only succeeds in 1 out of 3 of these endeavors:
It's not this one. He's just gotta process these emotions while wearing that stupid wig.
####
Soos was putting the final touches on his cosplay (the suave and mysterious Masked Guy In A Suit, love interest of the heroine from the classic anime Teenage Planetary Soldier Girls) when he heard the phone ring in the office. "Hold on, I'll get it!" He hurried downstairs, ducked under a construction paper chain Mabel had strung over the door, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"
A mysterious voice droned, "The sun sets a deep blood red."
"Oh, no thanks, we don't want any." Soos hung up, sighed happily, and said, "Ah, Summerween. Always brings out the weirdos."
"Hey Soos!" Mabel ducked into the doorway. "Where's the candy bowl?"
"Oh, hey Hambone. It's in my bedroom." He put on a stage whisper. "I put it in there so Bill couldn't steal it."
"Thanks Soos!" She ran upstairs.
Dipper and Bill waited downstairs, the tension thick between them (on Dipper's side, anyway; Bill—watching a black-and-white horror movie, sipping at a can of cider, and brooding over going to voicemail—didn't notice). Dipper was waiting by the door in a folding chair; but he kept glancing toward Bill in the living room. When the silence got too much to bear, he asked, "Okay, what are you dressed as?"
Bill was wearing a brown bedsheet toga (the most historically-accurate part of his costume); a cheap wig of a teased mullet that had ended up mostly red with yellow streaks, forming a plume of hair right over his head and then a long straight tail he'd draped over his shoulder; and a bunch of paper faux-Greek homes taped all around the hem of his toga, forming a ring around his calves.
"And are those my sandals?" Dipper asked.
"Take it up with Mabel, she loaned them on your behalf," Bill said. "I'm not telling my costume. You have to guess it."
"Seriously?" Dipper sighed. It had to be a god, gods towered over their mortals' temples. What god would wear brown? "I don't know—Demeter?"
"What? No. Do I seem like the Demeter type? Pathetic." Bill waved off his guess. As Mabel ran downstairs, Bill said, "Hey, Shooting Star, you haven't made your official guess yet."
Without hesitation, Mabel said, "A time-traveling hair metal singer touring the Roman Empire and trying to find a way home before his hair dye runs out."
"Wrong, but I would love to live in the world you've dreamed up." He meandered into the entryway to join Mabel as she plopped down in the second chair by the door.
Dipper screwed up his face. "Are you helping us answer the door?"
"No, you're helping me answer the door. I'm cursed, remember?" Bill leaned over Mabel's shoulder, dug into the candy bowl, and popped a lollipop in his mouth. "But you're not getting rid of me, if that's what you're asking."
Soos headed to the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Hey dudes. Hey Bill." He paused in the door, studying Bill. "Hey! Is that a Bobo the Uncouth Berserker cosplay?"
Bill blinked. "Who?"
"Bobo the Uncouth Berserker! You've gotta read Bobo. He's this primitive hero descended from lost Lemuria who goes on daring adventures through the lush impenetrable jungles of Central Europe. He's got this comic that was so popular it spawned an anime, which got an American movie adaptation, which formed the basis of a second comic continuity that isn't as critically acclaimed as the original but has drawn in a lot of new fans... and..." Soos petered out. "You're not Bobo, are you."
Bill shook his head. "Thanks for playing."
"Aw." Soos's shoulders slumped. "Anyway—me and Melody are gonna be at the cosplay contest at the theater. I'll keep my phone on in case of monsters."
"We'll be fine!" Mabel said. "Go have fun!"
"You too!" With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Soos disappeared into the night.
Bill watched Soos go enviously. He could have been given a human body that looked that good in a suit and top hat, but was he? No. It wasn't fair. And Soos didn't even wear the right hat size.
Dipper glanced sideways at Bill. "Hey. Is... Lemuria real?"
"Not anymore." Bill perked up as Stan passed by, dressed like Frankenstein's monster. "Hey, Stanley! You haven't guessed yet. What am I?"
Stan surveyed him. "White columned buildings, Statue of Liberty dress, and a red clown wig. I dunno, the American government?"
Bill squawked in laughter. "That's my favorite wrong answer so far. I like you, Stanley." He fished a chocolate bar out of the bowl and held it out.
Stan grunted in disapproval, but accepted the candy. "If any of you need me, I'm gonna be up on the roof, terrifying kids." He held up a boombox and a cassette that said "Spooky Sound Effects of Halloween". "If you hear screaming children, don't worry: that means I'm winning."
"Where's your brother?" Bill asked.
"Avoiding you." Stan passed through the living room and left.
Bill's shoulders slumped; but he just dug into the candy bowl for more chocolate. Then the first trick-or-treater knocked on the door, and Dipper jumped up in relief to answer it.
The shack didn't attract quite as many trick-or-treaters as the houses closer to the center of town, but they got a steady stream of children, and more than they'd gotten the year before. Between visitors, Bill dug into their candy stock, gleefully ignoring Dipper's complaints. After the fourth or fifth visitor, Dipper and Mabel realized that Bill was covering up the amount of candy he'd pilfered by meticulously re-folding the empty wrappers and putting them back in the bowl.
"It's fair play," Bill said. He untwisted one end of a Twisty Roll tube, squeezed out the candy, blew into the wrapper to re-inflate it, and twisted the end shut again. "The kids are trick-or-treating, right? Sometimes they get treats and sometimes they get tricks."
"Come on, seriously?" Dipper said. "Even for you this is low. You're literally taking candy from babies."
"The babies are trying to take candy from us. I have no sympathy." With the precision of an origami master, Bill refolded a paper fruit chew wrapper into a box and dropped it back into the bowl.
"They're supposed to take candy from us, that's how the holiday works." Dipper looked at Mabel for support.
But she was holding up an empty 3 Fencers wrapper and squeezing it lightly between her fingers. "Wow. How did you make the wrapper puffy again? It's so convincing."
Bill shot Dipper a nasty smile, then turned to Mabel and said magnanimously, "I'll teach you everything I know." He twirled a glue stick between his fingers.
Another trick-or-treater knocked, and Dipper answered.
"Trick or treat! Please give us the worst candy you have."
Mabel blinked, leaning around Dipper to see who was outside. "Wait, what?"
Outside stood a purple-furred monster with a dozen limbs from a dozen different creatures. He gasped in surprise. "Ohhh, twin costumes! That's so cute! What are you two, haunted dolls?"
Dipper took a surprised step back. "Limby Jimmy?"
The monster was silent a moment, taken aback. He took off a bear mask he'd made out of a paper plate. "Is it that obvious?"
Mabel asked, "Have we...?"
Dipper said, "Oh! Sorry—Mabel, this is Limby Jimmy, I ran into him last year in the Crawlspace under town when I was trying to get your face back—"
Helpfully, Bill threw in, "He's Gravity Falls' most accomplished arms dealer. And legs dealer, and tails dealer, and ears dealer..."
"Limby, this is my sister Mabel. Actually, I don't know if I ever introduced myself—"
Limby Jimmy cut in, "Ohhh, yeah, I remember you! You're Troll Boy, right?"
Dipper winced. "It's—it's Dipper, actually." He paused. "Wow. We meet a lot of weird people."
"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" Mabel held out a hand. After a moment of thought, Jimmy elected to shake it with a tentacle and a dog's paw.
"What are you doing up here?" Dipper asked. "Is Summerween the one night of the year that Gravity Falls' monsters can walk among humans without fear?"
"Oh no, I'm terrified. I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't collecting donations," Jimmy said.
"Donations?"
Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice. "You've been in the Crawlspace, so, you and your sister are cool, but is the lady...?" He wiggled a hoof toward Bill.
Coolly, Bill said, "I'm actually an ancient interdimensional energy being cursed to wear a human form."
Dipper and Mabel flinched in alarm and rounded on Bill, hissing, "Bill!" "Shhh!"
Ignoring them, Bill said, "So, continue."
"Oh," Jimmy said brightly. "That's all right then, yuk yuk." He wiggled his multitude of right arms. "I don't know if you humans have heard yet, but the Summerween Trickster got eaten to death last summer! It's really sad!"
Dipper and Mabel, who had watched as he was eaten to death, stayed quiet.
"But probably happy for him?" Jimmy mused. "Since I think that's what he wanted? But it's sad for the rest of his poker group, we all miss him! So I'm out here with Doug—"
"Who?" Dipper asked, looking around the porch for a second monster.
"Oh, he's back there." Jimmy pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing around the Mystery Shack. The tree chittered unnervingly. "We're going around collecting donations to resurrect the Trickster! Or... re-summon him? Or however this works. We never really asked him how he came to exist, it seemed rude."
"Naturally," Bill said. "You can't just ask a freak what made him so freaky. It's a sensitive topic."
"Right! You understand," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we need a lot of crappy candy!" He looked at their bowl. "Which pieces have the kids been ignoring this year?"
Mabel had started bouncing on the balls of her dusty Victorian ghost shoes; and the moment she had a turn to speak, she squealed in excitement. "You're the Summerween Trickster's friend! That's perfect! Stay here, I'll be right back!" She shoved the candy bowl into Bill's arms and zoomed up the stairs. "I've got some stuff for him!"
Bill looked at the bowl, looked at the stairs, shoved the candy in Dipper's arms, and followed Mabel. "Hey, Shooting Star? What are you doing?"
Her voice drifted down the stairs: "Getting a donation! I'll be just a minute!"
"Hold on, you're actually helping that guy?" Bill laughed. "Why?" He climbed high enough to poke his head above the attic floor and lowered his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear. "I wasn't paying that much attention last Summerween, but I got the impression from your little costume store brawl that the Trickster was trying to kill you kids. Am I missing something?"
"I mean, yeah, he was—but he was in a really bad place back then, that doesn't mean he deserves to be dead for it. And now he knows someone out there wants to eat him, so maybe he'll be less insecure and evil." Mabel laughed, "Anyway, the Trickster isn't that bad! He didn't try to kill me half as hard as you did!"
Bill froze a couple of steps from the top of the stairs. He didn't move for a few seconds; and then wordlessly, he slunk back downstairs.
Dipper watched as Bill, face beet red, trudged into the living room. "Hey. What's Mabel...?"
"How should I know." Bill curled up on the couch, picked up the can of cider he'd been drinking earlier, shotgunned it, and glowered at the horror movie on TV.
Dipper considered Bill—all alone in the living room and not doing anything important—and considered Mabel, upstairs; and said, "Hey, Jimmy. Do you mind waiting out here until Mabel gets back."
"Sure! I don't have any plans." Jimmy rocked back on his many heels.
"Cool. Thanks." Dipper shut the door.
He sidled oh so very casually into the living room and leaned against the TV. "Guess it's just the two of us right now."
Bill's gaze didn't waver from the TV. "Terrific counting skills, Troll Boy." He popped open another cider can.
Dipper grit his teeth. Let it go. "Sooo! You're from the second dimension, huh? What's that like?" (His voice cracked embarrassingly on "that.") "Just—just curious. Making friendly conversation. Caaasual conversation." He flashed a pair of finger guns at Bill, to underscore just how casual he was. "Yyyep." Witness the junior paranormal investigator in action.
Bill turned the cold, empty eyes of a killer on Dipper. He took a long, slow sip from his cider. And he asked himself: what can I say that will make this stupid boy regret ever daring to speak to me?
Bill smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "You wanna know what it's like? Have you ever read the Allegory of the Cave?"
Dipper hesitated. "By... Plato?"
"That one. You know—ignorance is like being a prisoner chained in a cave, watching shadow puppets being cast on a wall, and thinking they're reality; and having knowledge is like being outside the cave in the sunlight, seeing the real shapes that are casting the shadows—"
"I have read it, actually," Dipper said, a tad defensively. "It was for extra credit in—"
"English class, I know."
Dipper frowned; but he soldiered on. "So... living in the second dimension is like being chained in a cave, staring at the shadows on the wall, and thinking that's reality? Bleak."
Bill laughed so loudly that Dipper started. "Wow, you're so dumb! Use your brain, kid: it's the second dimension. You're not the prisoner: you're the shadow on the wall." Bill's lip curled in a sneer, "An illusion in somebody else's allegory. And the only one who can see the cave's exit... is you. That's what the second dimension is like!" He laughed again. It sounded forced.
"Oh," Dipper mumbled. He tried to wrap his head around the idea of being a living metaphor for ignorance. "Sounds... pretty bad?"
"Awful," Bill agreed. "Doesn't hold a candle to what your dimension has going on, though."
"Wh... why, what's going on in the third dimension?"
Bill gave him a malicious smile, and Dipper had the sinking feeling he'd just walked into an obvious trap. "You idiot, you still think you're in the third dimension? Really?"
Was that a trick question? What answer was Bill looking for? What could this be if not the third dimension? "Nnooo?"
"Wow. I can really see why you're a straight-A's honors student," Bill said. "You're so good at figuring out what answer the test wants and regurgitating it—even if you don't actually understand it at all." He heaved himself back to his feet; and Dipper was sure there was something threatening in the movement—something that reminded Dipper that he was talking to a dangerously unstable extinction level event precariously packed into an unsteady human body. "Although copying the year of the Louisiana Purchase off of Brandon's test in fifth grade probably didn't hurt, did it."
Dipper's stomach dropped. The secret shame buried beneath the foundation of his honors roll-worthy record. Pull that out and his entire academic career came toppling down. He'd get kicked out of the honors classes. He'd go to jail. Was cheating against the law? "H... how did—?"
"What year was the Louisiana Purchase?"
Dipper's brain immediately went blank. He was silent, trapped in the paralyzing intensity of Bill's gaze. After several terrifying seconds, he croaked, "1803?" and hoped he was right.
"Attaboy. Too bad you couldn't have learned that a little sooner, isn't it?" As he spoke, Bill had closed in on Dipper until he'd backed him into the corner behind the TV set, filling Dipper's exit route with one hand on the TV and the other on the wall. "But we were talking about dimensions, weren't we! Whaddaya like to read, kid," Bill asked too casually, "do you like cosmic horror? Do you know what real 'cosmic horror' is?"
Dipper regretted this conversation completely.
"It's having an eyeball on the inside of your body, and seeing another dimension through it. And ohoho, I think you'd be amazed at the things I can see from here—"
Dipper got the distinct impression that if he didn't get out of this conversation, he would only hear things he'd be telling his therapist about for months. "Cool! Good talk, man. Hey Mabel?" (That was an absolutely humiliating voice crack.) "How's it going?"
A pause. "I think I need help!"
"Coming!" Dipper ran behind the TV to escape Bill and gratefully bolted upstairs.
The kid had caved so fast. And Bill had only just been getting started. He smirked, sat, and turned back to the movie.
A moment later, Mabel and Dipper came back downstairs, carrying four bulging plastic grocery bags. Mabel set one by her feet, opened the door, and shoved the first bag into Jimmy's arms. "Here! You can give these to the Trickster!" She shoved over the second bag.
Jimmy stumbled back under the weight. "Whoa there! What is this?"
"Candy chalk-hearts! I completely bought out the leftovers after Valentine's Day," Mabel said. "I wanted to make sure that if we met the Trickster again, I could let him know he's loved and appreciated as the terrifying avatar of spooky holiday spirit that he is! And that I also respect that he's made out of gross candy nobody likes to eat." She picked up a chalk-heart box and waved it in Jimmy's face. "So here's a gross candy that expresses love! See, the little hearts say things like 'You smell nice' and 'I heart ur face,' but they taste like if dehydration was a flavor."
Dipper handed his bags to Jimmy. "Wait—Mabel, that's why you got all these? You've been planning to help the Trickster since February? I thought you were gonna build a chalk-heart house or something."
"Oooh, that's such a good idea. I should do that next year!" To Jimmy, she said, "I was gonna give these to him personally, but if he's still dead, I guess you can add it to his candy sacrifice pile or whatever? And make sure he gets this!" She handed Jimmy a store bought Shimmery Twinkleheart Valentine's card. It read, "I BELIEVE in our friendship! Happy Valentine's Day!" Mabel had scratched out "Valentine's" and written "Summerween".
Choked up, Jimmy said, "Oh—wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for us all night. I'm sure the Trickster will really appreciate it when he's not dead anymore."
Dipper was a little more vengeful. Dipper didn't want to do anything for one of the many guys that had tried to kill them last year. But, on the other hand, Mabel had just gone all in on this, and Jimmy seemed nice enough, so... Dipper sighed. Whatever, it was Summerween and this was a trick-or-treater. "Hey," he picked up the candy bowl. "There's really only one bag of good candy in here. The bottom of the bowl is filled with after-dinner mints our great uncle's been stealing from restaurants for the last six months. The Trickster would probably love that, right?"
"Aww—thanks so much, you guys! We'll have the poker group back together in no time!" Jimmy dug past the good candy and started scooping mints into his bag. "Oh—since I'm here, can I ask about our other poker buddy? Do either of you know Mr. What's-His-Face? He disappeared around the time you were visiting the Crawlspace, maybe one of you saw something? Any information would be helpful." Jimmy looked at them with weird, plus-shaped, but very hopeful eyes. "Between the Trickster's death and Whatsis disappearing, the local paranormal community's been hit hard. Especially us guys in their friend group. I'm—I'm not gonna lie," Jimmy heaved a sigh, "It's been a really hard year."
Dipper and Mabel, who were directly and personally at fault for Mr. What's-His-Face's disappearance and knew he was frozen in stasis in Ford's bunker at that very moment, exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement.
"Nope, don't know anything," Mabel said.
"Sorry, buddy," Dipper said.
Like the Summerween Trickster, Mr. What's-His-Face was a weird faceless shapeshifty monster that had tried to kill them. But they felt like that was where the similarities ended.
By the time of the Trickster's death, Mabel and Dipper had realized that his deepest inner longing was to be called good enough to eat. Mr. What's-His-Face's deepest inner longing was to steal innocent people's faces. If Mabel and Dipper helped resurrect the Trickster, he'd probably go back to ensuring everyone displayed sufficient holiday spirit, while hopefully mellowing out about eating people now that he'd been consumed once. On the other hand, if Mabel and Dipper helped free Mr. What's-His-Face, he'd probably just keep stealing faces.
And on top of all that, they could help resurrect the Trickster without admitting they knew the guy who ate him. They couldn't really lead Jimmy to Mr. What's-His-Face without admitting their great uncle was keeping him captive. And that would be a problem for the whole family.
"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay, that's fine. Thanks for all your help. You know where to reach us if you hear anything."
Mabel shook her head. Dipper nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."
Jimmy hopped off the porch, shouted, "Hey Doug, can you help me carry these?" and chucked a couple of bags of chalk-hearts toward the tree line. Dipper and Mabel stared. Nothing emerged to pick the bags up.
They shut the door.
"Man," Dipper said. "We kinda devastated the paranormal poker group last summer, didn't we?"
"Yeah." Mabel sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Wow. Feels... kinda bad."
Dipper offered her the candy bowl. "Drown our feelings in chocolate?"
"Please."
They grabbed a piece of candy each, tore open the wrappers—and frowned. Mabel stomped a foot. "Dang it—Bill!"
"Hm?"
"How many of these wrappers are empty?!"
Bill poked his head out of the living room and said, smugly, "Like candy from a baby!"
####
A knock, and Dipper opened the door. "Wendy! Hey! Good timing—"
"Hey." Wendy lowered her voice. "Quick question—this is super important—is Goldie here?"
"Uh—yeah, why—?"
"Yello?" Bill carefully wove his way out of the living room, already less steady on his feet than when he'd sat down. "I heard my name, who's summoning me?"
Wendy pointed over the twins at Bill and turned to shout into the dark, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Live and in person... Toga Lady!"
A half dozen teenagers immediately went bananas. Hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling: "To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!"
Bill's entire face lit up. Without missing a beat, he pushed past the baffled twins out onto the porch and spread his arms wide, basking in the cheering. "That's right, keep it coming! Worship me! I'm the greatest!"
"Yes!" Robbie pumped a fist in the air. "The legends were true!" Nate immediately added, "The prophecy! The prophecy!" Tambry snapped photos of Toga Lady's fresh look as fast as her phone could save them, muttering, "Everyone's gonna flip when they find out you're still in town."
Wendy waited, grinning, until her friends' faux hysterics had died down. "Okay—okay, after getting you hyped up, I should probably say that Toga Lady is actually Toga Guy." She glanced questioningly at Bill. "I think?"
"Eh, I'm not picky."
"Anyway this is Goldie, he was stuck in another dimension for thirty years, it's crazy, and now he's like my illegal backup cashier. He actually... doesn't usually wear togas?"
Bill laughed. "If you can't wear a bedsheet on Summerween, when can you?"
Lee said, "Thompson wore a bedsheet to homecoming."
"Hey."
Bill pointed at Thompson. "A man of impeccable fashion! I like it!" Thompson gave him a look of eternal gratitude.
"And Goldie, this is the gang! That's Thompson, he's the guy with the van; Robbie and Tambry, they're like, gender-swapped versions of each other, they even share their hair dye..."
As Wendy did introductions, Mabel whispered to Dipper, "Did you know she was gonna introduce Goldie to everyone?"
"No! This is bad, I told her not to trust him..."
Bill was responding to a question, "No, no, you've gotta guess, I'm making everyone guess!"
The teens considered the question. Robbie offered first, "Punk caveman?"
"Nope!"
Hesitantly, Thompson tried, "Nero fiddling over the burning of Rome?" He winced when Lee laughed.
"I like where your head's at, but no! I can't fiddle."
"The gremlin king from Huge Maze?" Tambry said.
Mabel piped up, "No, but the wig came from a gremlin king costume and I appreciate you for recognizing that!" Tambry nodded in cool approval.
Bill dispensed of Lee, Nate, and Wendy's guesses—Greek Christmas tree, that one guy who keeps painting burning banks, and hair metal Hades—before Robbie loudly cleared his throat to cut in. "Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but we've gotta move if we wanna be in position before sunset. Dipper, Mabel, you ready?"
"Ready to ghost it up!" Mabel said, squeezing around Bill with Dipper onto the porch.
Robbie surveyed their makeup—deathly white skin, ashen grey lips, and dark circles around their eye sockets. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Could use a little color, maybe. Like bloody tears?" He turned toward Tambry.
She said, "I think I've got some red eyeliner."
"'In position'?" Bill asked, giving Dipper and Mabel a questioning look.
Wendy said, "We're helping Robbie film this music video tonight."
"We're the creepy ghost twins!" Mabel announced proudly. "We get to sing the chorus."
Robbie said, "Yeah, the song's about childhood and growing up, but like, with ghosts? Because once you've grown up, your childhood is all dead? It's metal, but introspective. I'm calling the genre 'intrometal.'" He flipped his bangs dramatically. "It's a super deep song. Metaphorical layers."
"Oh yeah?" Bill stared Robbie down. "Sing some of it."
Robbie blinked. "Oh. Yeah, okay uh, I haven't warmed up my voice but, the hook is like—" He pantomimed playing a guitar and whisper-screamed, "'BABY DOLLS! BASKET BALLS! BASKET CASE! HUMAN RACE!' Like that."
Bill nodded slowly, face expressionless. "Ah, yeah, I see. Really deep stuff. Makes you think."
"Thanks." Robbie looked at Dipper and Mabel. "Anyway, if we're gonna get any footage in the graveyard before the jack-o'-melons start burning out, we've gotta move. Let's go, Creepy Ghost Twins."
"Wait, you're going out?" Bill asked Mabel. "Like out-out? Leaving me here? By myself? On Summerween?"
"Wh—yeah, we're only handing out candy for half the night," Mabel said. "I told you that."
"No you didn't!"
"Yes I did!"
"When?"
Mabel thought. "No I didn't," she admitted. "Sorry!"
Wendy punched Bill's arm. "Sorry to steal them. We'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "Or you could come help—?"
"No!" Dipper and Mabel both shoved Bill back into the house before he could accept. Dipper said, "You've gotta—guard the house." Mabel added, "And hand out candy!"
"Right," Bill said flatly. "Yes. That. Ha."
"See you later!" Mabel said, and then shut the door in his face.
The last thing he heard was Wendy explaining to her friends, "He's on house arrest for, like, academic plagiarism and war crimes or something..." and then they were gone.
Bill's shoulders slumped. Well, now what? He couldn't celebrate a holiday by himself. What was the point of wearing a costume if no one sees you in it. He picked up a piece of candy, discovered it was one of his decoys, and picked up another.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. He picked up the candy bowl, turned toward the door, and paused. Ah. Right. What was he supposed to do with this impenetrable portal-blocking slab of wood.
Who was left in the house? Stan on the roof, Ford in the basement, Abuelita probably already in bed... were any of them worth harassing to help him answer the door? Maybe Stan, he'd gotten all dressed up, he liked the holiday even if he didn't like Bill—
The trick-or-treater knocked more insistently.
Or. Or.
He could pick up the bowl, peer out the small window in the door, and make direct eye contact with the children outside while he ate candy.
As a piece of mid-tier chocolate melted on his tongue, he saw three trick-or-treaters' faces fall as their faith in a kind, caring universe died. He grinned at them and ate another chocolate.
Oh yeah. He grabbed the rest of his cider from the living room and set up post next to the door. This would keep him entertained the rest of the night.
####
He made seven small children cry.
####
Stan watched from his post on the roof as yet another sobbing kid ran away from the shack. "HA! Gottem! Sucker!" He affectionately patted his boombox. "Creepy ghoulish laughter, you never disappoint! Terrifying moochers since 1989!" He paused the cassette and rewound it a few seconds to replay the best part.
He heard a scraping sound above him, and looked up just in time to see Ford sliding down the roof to join him. "Oh, hey! I didn't think we'd see you again tonight."
"Mabel made me promise to celebrate Summerween a little."
"Good for her!"
Stan had already claimed the sun lounger, so Ford brushed some dust and leaves off the roof's cooler and sat. "So, what are we doing? Scaring trick-or-treaters?"
"Yep. This year I'm taking a more atmospheric approach." He gestured at his boombox, which by now was playing haunting organ music. "Nothing like screaming zombies and rattling chains from nowhere to freak out the kids."
Ford nodded. "Psychological torment. I approve."
"Not quite as good as getting to see the terror in their eyes, but." Stan shrugged. "Bill was hanging out with the kids. I didn't want to put up with him."
"Mm. There's a reason I was spending the holiday in the basement."
"Heh. Well, there's always Halloween."
They were silent for a moment, listening as the cassette moved on from organ music to werewolf howls. Stan asked, "Think we'll be rid of him by then? I know we were hoping to be done with him before the Fourth of July—but since I haven't heard anything lately, I figure you hit a roadblock."
Ford winced. "Guilty as charged." He was still relearning how to keep other people in the loop. Even Stan. "You're right. I have a weapon that can destroy him, but I can't find a fuel source without restarting the portal. I'm hoping Fiddleford will come up with a solution I haven't."
Stan nodded. Ford had told him he was getting Fiddleford involved; even as reluctant as Ford was to admit how little progress he'd made, he wasn't going to tell someone outside the family about Bill without letting Stan know. "Any breakthroughs on his end?"
####
During the credits between episodes of the retired samurai period drama (most recently, the samurai had been asked to use his sword to help cut flowers for a bouquet), Fiddleford leaned over and whispered to Ford, "So I've been a-lookin' at those blueprints you left me."
"And...?"
"And I've constructicated a power adaptor. Just jimmy out the fuel tank, swap it for the adaptor's cord, and you can power that weapon by pluggin' it into the wall! It'll just drain all the power from the town for a few seconds, that's all."
"Fiddleford, that's amazing—"
"Now, hold on. There's bad news," Fiddleford said. "Try as I might, I can't quite get it to draw enough power to activate those energy-destroying features what you'd need to disintegrate Bill. It'll work like a powerful laser, but nothin' else."
Ford sighed. "It's a starting point, I suppose."
"I'll send you home with the adaptor anyway. Never know when you'll need a big laser."
"Very true. Do you have any promising leads on other alternative fuels?"
Fiddleford shook his head. "It's the NowUSeeitNowUDontium or nothing. But I've got a hunch we could synthesize it under lab conditions. I'll letcha know in a few days."
And then the next episode started, and they dropped the conversation.
####
Ford let out a heavy sigh. "He's only had a partial success so far. But I'm hopeful he's on the right track."
"So, if he's working on this weapon, what are you doing?"
"Waiting, mostly. I don't know what else I can do."
Stan frowned. "What—that's it? You've been downstairs all day every day—if you're not figuring out how to destroy him, what are you doing?"
"Passing time somewhere I can be on call if he gets up to something—but I don't have to look at him," Ford said wryly. "And—as long as I'm waiting to hear back from Fiddleford, I've been... picking apart that list of spells Bill gave me. To see if any of them are tricks or traps."
Stan couldn't say he was surprised. That was his workaholic brother. A pamphlet of demon magic was like catnip to him. If anything, Stan was almost glad Ford had that letter to distract him. Over the past year...
Well, Ford was fine on land—when he temporarily had a mystery to solve, an adventure to pursue, an anomaly to study, a distraction to fill his time—but at sea, when his mind was unoccupied, he was listless. He had books he didn't read, field notes he didn't enter into his journal, games he didn't play. He fed himself and exercised and did chores around the ship like a robot programmed to take care of itself, and he stared out at the sea.
Last summer, Ford hadn't seemed happy but he'd seemed alive. Tired and angry, but alive. But after Weirdmageddon, a light in his eyes went out. Stan didn't know if it was the end of summer, or guilt over the memory gun, or the gap between finishing a thirty-year-long quest and discovering the next one. All Stan knew was the light hadn't come back on until the moment Bill Cipher, clad in a new body and a purple cartoon bedsheet, tried to cave Ford's skull in.
Ever since they were children, Ford had had a tendency to develop obsessions. It was somehow simultaneously both what made him most interesting and what made him boring. Depended on the obsession. But these all-consuming interests had always tended to last a few months, at most a year; and he'd never seemed to be without one, much less for nine months. Stan had no idea what carrying a single obsession for three decades might have done to Ford's mind.
Stan was glad something had woken Ford back up, and he worried that losing that focal point again might leave Ford permanently adrift. But another part of him worried that, this time, Ford wouldn't let the object of his obsession go. He tended to collect things related to his obsessions.
But then, he usually tended to like his obsessions. He hadn't seemed bothered to burn the contents of his creepy Bill shrine last summer. Ford wouldn't do anything stupid, Stan told himself. Ford hated Bill. "So? Were any of the spells traps?"
"Not... so far, no." Ford sounded irritated by this.
Stan shrugged. "Makes sense. He's trying to butter us up. If that idiot thinks being nice to us for a week or two is gonna make up for the years of grief he's given us—"
A loud rattle-clattering below made them both start. Stan sat bolt upright. "What the—?"
Ford inched to the edge of the dormer roof, knelt down, and leaned over the edge just far enough to see the window.
Bill's face was pressed to the glass, eye rolled up toward the roofline. He grinned in surprised delight and shouted through the glass, "HEY, STANFORD! What are you doing up here?! I thought you were downstairs!"
"Ugh." Ford turned to grimace at Stan. "Speak of the devil."
Bill pounded on the glass again. "Hey, Sixer! SIXER! Open the window!"
"Why?"
"I wanna talk!"
"No."
"Come ooon, the kids ditched me and I'm bored! There's no one in the house to talk to! The old lady's asleep and Stanley's on the roof, so—" He abruptly fell silent, squinting with deep suspicion at Ford-who-should-be-in-the-basement kneeling on the-roof-where-Stan-should-be, and said, "Wait. Are you Stanley right now? Show me your hand."
Ford did not. "Go away, Bill." He left the edge of the roof for his cooler seat.
"Get back here!" The pounding redoubled. "I don't care which Stan you are! If you don't wanna talk, I can always go wake up Dolores!"
Ford looked at Stan. "Mrs. Ramirez's name is Dolores?" He had gotten used to everyone calling her Abuelita.
Stan stomped on the roof, "Shaddup!"
Bill did not shaddup. "Come ooon!"
Stan sighed in defeat and heaved himself to his feet. "If he keeps that racket up he's gonna break that window, never mind that hex you put on him." When they'd taken out the original Bill-shaped window, Stan had replaced it with the cheapest window he could find. He didn't think it was very durable. "How much trouble can he get in with one open window twenty feet above the ground and both of us watching him?"
Ford Frowned.
"Don't gimme that look. Do you want to pay for a broken window?" Stan flipped through his keys for his key-shaped emergency lock pick, leaned over the edge of the roof, and wedged the pick into the window frame. The latch popped open. Lucky this window was so cheap, that wouldn't have worked on one with deluxe features like "airtight weatherstripping" or "a properly-fitting frame." Stan swung open the window. "Okay, you have our attention. Now what's the fastest way we can get rid of you?"
Bill clumsily climbed out to sit on the windowsill with his legs in the shack, and leaned back so he could see up onto the roof. "Hiya Fo—" He lost his balance, flailed, and yelped as he toppled backwards.
Stan and Ford lunged forward to seize an arm each. Stan snapped, "What are you doing, you maniac?!"
Bill stared up at them both in wide-eyed amazement. "You do like me."
Stan made a noise of disgust, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants like Bill had cooties.
Ford said, "We like you trapped in that body and not free to cause the apocalypse."
"I heard 'we like you'!"
"Shut up." Ford managed to haul Bill back upright. (Touching Bill felt wrong—all soft flesh and skin and the suggestion of bones underneath. Even when looking right at Bill's human body, Ford still expected him to feel like heavy shadows and heatless flames.) From this close, Bill reeked of cider. "Just how much have you had to drink?"
"Not so much I won't remember whatever you say in the morning, so be nice to me!" Bill laughed. He leaned back, this time hanging by one hand off the window frame to precariously maintain his balance, and grinned up at Ford. "So! The least fun person in the house has finally emerged from his lair? And you didn't even come into the house to join in the Summerween festivities! 'All work and no play'..."
Ford had to crouch at the edge of the roof, hovering nearby in case Bill lost his balance again. "I wanted to participate in Summerween, actually. It just so happens that the last person I'd ever spend a holiday with is in the house."
"Listen, Stanford. I know you're holing up in your study for days on end just to hurt me. But let's be honest, you're hurting yourself more! When's the last time you saw the sunlight! Look at how pale you're getting, you look like a vampire."
Stiffly, Ford said, "It's costume makeup. That's my vampire costume." Stan laughed.
"It what." Bill flipped up his eyepatch and squinted blearily at Ford's face.
Wordlessly, Ford bared his teeth to show off his plastic vampire teeth.
"Oh." Somewhat deflated, Bill said, "Nice work, it's convincing."
"Thanks," Ford said grudgingly. Giving in to his curiosity, he gestured toward Bill's (somewhat disheveled) reddish-yellow wig. "What are you."
"Oh!" Bill perked back up. "You've got to see the whole thing. Hold on—" He turned around in the window, ignoring how Ford half reached for him in case he needed steadying, until he got his legs outside to dangle on the roof. "What do you think!"
Ford looked over the brown toga flared out like a cone, the eruption of red hair, the small paper city below, and said, "Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii? Very clever."
Bill's face lit up. "Finally! You're the first person all day to get it!" He smoothed out the skirt proudly, his jerky gestures just a bit more exaggerated than usual. "Do you know how long I've wanted to go to a costume party as Vesuvius? But nobody off Earth would get it! And now that I'm finally here, I can't go to parties and I'm shaped more like a mandrake than a volcano." He flung up his hands, wobbled, and caught himself before Ford had to intervene. "But at least you got it. I knew I could count on you, IQ."
He sounded so sincerely grateful. Ford regretted calling the costume clever. It was, but Bill didn't need the ego boost.
"Oh! By the by—I didn't think you'd emerge before the day was over, so I saved this." Bill fished around in his toga until he retrieved a mini pack of jelly beans. "Here!"
Ford eyed the pack. "Why is it open?"
"Because you only like the weird-shaped jelly beans, so I ate all the normal beans and saved the weird ones in one bag."
"I don't want this. You touched every one of the beans, that would be disgusting even if they weren't coming from you," Ford said. "Anyway, this is a patently transparent attempt to buy your way into my good favor—"
"It sure is, Ford, and if you don't accept it I'll get to be annoying about your ingratitude for weeks! Is that what you want? You know I'll do it. Everyone will be on my side—"
Ford sighed, but snatched the bag from Bill's hand. "Fine. Now drop it."
"That's more like it!" Bill favored Ford with an approving smile. "Anyway, it's just about the only candy left in the house, I ate everything else—hey, have you ever been cross faded on cider and a sugar rush?"
Ford was still trying to decide whether he wanted to engage in this one-sided conversation enough to ask Bill what "cross faded" meant when Bill moved on without him: "It's—not that interesting, actually. 6 out of 10. Anyway, all that's left in the bowl is mints and wrappers. And Mabel even managed to give most of the mints away—hey, she's so nice, did you know she's helping to resurrect the Summerween Trickster?"
She was doing what? "No. Why?"
"She's so nice."
"You just said that."
"What is she so nice for. What's she getting out of it," Bill asked, more to the universe at large than to Ford. "If more humans were half as nice to freaks as she is, your rotten planet wouldn't need people like you and me to save it."
Ford didn't even know where to begin with that. He looked to Stan for help.
Stan was sitting straddling his lounger, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand, watching this exchange like he was watching a weird bug on the wall try to navigate around a picture frame. At Ford's glance, he rolled his eyes and pantomimed sipping from a drink.
He could say that again. Ford cleared his throat. "Bill, maybe you should..."
"Hey," Bill said. "Great talk, we really should catch up more sometime. And pull your weight next time, I always have to do all the talking. But right now, I'm..." He gestured vaguely off to the side. "I'm gonna lie down and try not to throw up. Ciao!" He swayed as he tried to get back in the window, tumbled backward into the shack, and thudded heavily on the floor. "Ow."
Ford gingerly shut the window.
Stan turned up the boombox. "Chatty drunk, isn't he."
"He's chatty sober, too." But in front of the kids? Neither of them saw Bill as a role model, but they still didn't need to be exposed to that kind of behavior. Especially when the responsible adults were outside or asleep... "Did we really leave Bill alone in the house with the kids?"
"W—I—" Stan shrugged defensively. "They were all right! They can take him! They're doing karate or whatever! You didn't see how Mabel flipped him at the mall! It was like David wrestling Goliath."
"David and Goliath didn't wrestle."
"You know what I mean."
Ford supposed he didn't think Bill was any threat to the children. At least, not right now, and not physically. He felt like he'd know if Bill was about to try anything.
He looked at his open bag of gross felt-up jelly beans. Speaking of trying to butter them up... Ford wound up and chucked the bag as hard as he could.
He stared into the dark after it.
A small part of him was beginning to wonder whether this wasn't all just an attempt to get Ford's guard down. The gifts, sure, that was as clear-cut a case of bribery as you could get. Nothing ambiguous there.
But the endless chatter... Back when Ford had called Bill his Muse, this was exactly how he'd wanted Bill to talk to him. Not in the flighty half-distracted way of a friendly businessman catching up on a work project's progress before hurrying on to the next meeting; but just talking for talking's sake, talking for the company.
Getting what he once had longed for made his skin crawl. And he couldn't even tell if Bill was acting.
The boombox let out a ghastly banshee shriek. Ford and Stan both jumped, then laughed awkwardly.
Ford sat on the cooler again. "Is it just me, or... did Bill completely ignore you as soon as he realized I was up here."
"Well. I wasn't gonna mention it. I didn't wanna sound jealous of the attention. But yeah—he's been doing that since he got here. If you're in the room, he tunes everyone else out."
"I thought it was in my head." And he hadn't wanted to sound like he wanted to imagine Bill was favoring him.
"And you do the same thing around him," Stan said, and laughed at Ford's flinch of alarm. "It's—it's fine, I get it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You've got some kind of superhero-supervillain nemesis thing."
Ford got the distinct impression that Stan was offering him a convenient excuse for the tunnel vision. He took it. "I suppose that's true." The way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed around Bill certainly felt like a "nemesis" reaction.
But if Stan thought Ford was a bit too preoccupied by Bill... well, maybe he was right. Once Ford had gotten over his initial wave of fear, of despair, of outrage at the injustice, at finding Bill was still alive—there was a part of him that was almost relieved. A part of him that had been on guard against nothing for the past year, twisting around looking for an absent threat. Now that it knew where the threat was, that part of him could finally settle down and watch Bill with steady, certain eyes. Having nothing to worry about made him more anxious than having one thing to always worry about.
(Maybe Shermie's kid had been on to something when he suggested Ford might benefit from therapy.)
Knowing Bill was back didn't put the old starlight and awe back in that hole Bill had left in Ford's chest. But dread could fill a hole all the same.
Ford tried to push Bill out of his mind and the conversation. "You think I'm like a superhero?"
"You run around fighting monsters with a space laser. What else would you be?"
"Huh." Well. That made his night.
"Just as long as you don't pull that 'hero spares the villain to show how good he is' shtick."
"Never." Ford laughed ruefully. "I think I left 'good' behind a few felonies back." He'd probably left "good" behind the night he accepted the portal blueprints.
"Couple stragglers," Stan said, nodding out into the dark. It took Ford a moment to spot the costumed kids and remember it was Summerween. "I recognize those costumes, I scared them off an hour ago. What are they doing back?"
Ford squinted at them. "Are those toilet paper rolls?"
"Wh—Hey! What are you little runts— Hey!" Stan leaped to his feet, shaking his fist at the kids below. "Get away from my car! Stop that! I'll have you know that's a classic— No, not the eggs!"
Ford slid out his freeze ray, turned down the power, and offered it to Stan. "Here. At this power and distance, it'll feel like getting pelted with invisible snowballs."
Stan snatched up the weapon. "Eat this, twerps!"
The Summerween night air was filled with the screams of terrified children and the evil laughter of an old man.
####
Wow. It sure sounded like everybody was having fun. Outside. Without him.
Bill was nauseous.
He stared at the spinning ceiling, flat on his back, one leg on a cushion and the rest of him on the floor.
Bill was nauseous and alone. The loneliness tore at his throat. Even Mabel had ditched him. Of course she did—he'd tried to kill her. He'd barely even remembered he'd tried to kill her until she brought it up. Had he tried to kill her? No, surely not—he liked the kid, he'd always liked her—he'd been faking to force Ford's hand, he never would have gone through with it. He would've teleported her into another room and pretended he'd disintegrated her. She didn't know he hadn't meant it. She was just mad he'd scared her. She couldn't take a joke.
But, Ford talked to him. Ford even liked his costume. It wasn't much, but it would get Bill through the night.
When he saw Kryptos again—when, not if—he was slicing him into a jigsaw puzzle for not taking Bill's call. The nerve of that guy, hanging up on a human without even waiting a few words to see if they had anything interesting to say.
(What if it hadn't been an accident, he wondered? What if Kryptos had realized it was Bill and still hung up?)
(No. Of course it was an accident.)
He shut his eyes. He was probably too drunk to dream tonight. Well, he could try again tomorrow. His little lucid dreaming guide was currently teaching him to influence the next night's dream by focusing on a topic before sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could dream about the Nightmare Realm.
He missed home.
####
(Congratulations to the approximately 50% of respondents who correctly figured out Bill's costume when I posted the art on Halloween, you're officially smarter than everybody in Gravity Falls except Ford. This is one of those chapters with a whole lot going on so if you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your comments!!)
#(tbh that's the best Mabel & Dipper I've ever drawn)#bill cipher#human bill cipher#mabel pines#dipper pines#(for both the art & fic)#grunkle ford#grunkle stan#(for just the fic)#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls fic#my writing#my art#fanart#bill goldilocks cipher
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All of your Bruce takes are so real and so true. It must break your back having to carry the weight of being the most correct batman account on this website. 🙏🏻 I love your thoughts about Bruce and Dick in particular and I was wondering if you had any thoughts about Bruce and Damian? Something about them is just… oh boy.
that’s very sweet but untrue, anon 🫰
i love damian and bruce's relationship, but it's hard to talk about without mentioning two other crucial people - talia and dick. for my own sanity i only accept damian's conception as a consensual act, so in this context talia is a fundamentally well-meaning person who attempted to protect her son from a violent life, and hid his existance from bruce until she felt he could be safe. damian loves and respects his mother. this is important.
dick, on the other hand, is really the foundation for their relationship. bruce spent like two weeks with this kid before he went on his timestream roadtrip and left everything behind for dick to juggle. contrary to popular opinion, i think it's a real disservice to act like dick taught damian to "be a good person" or like basic etiquette - a more realistic interpretation would be that dick taught damian that he didn't have to prove himself to be worth something.
the robin mantle from the time it was taken from dick has always been about proving yourself to bruce, to justify your role as his partner. always unfairly, mind (think how tim is treated vs. steph, for example), but damian is the first robin's robin. dick isn't a wayne, he's a grayson. there's an interesting point of comparison being that dick is the only robin who had a clear trajectory for his life prior to his parents dying - he was a core member of the worlds greatest acrobatic troupe - but he then left that path to become something else. damian is destined for the bat, but becomes robin instead, serving beside someone who achieved greatness by his own skill and kindness. damian has been told about his father, and here he is with someone who knows bruce better than anyone but also understands what robin means, better than anyone. i cannot emphasise how important i think dick being damian's first batman is for their own development. it's so so crucial to combat damian's perspective on family and blood. it's so important that he has that foundational knowledge of what robin means.
by the time bruce returns, damian has made tangible human connections in gotham. he's not the prickly, reactive kid that bruce first met. he's allowed himself to trust that the people around him have his best interests in mind. he knows that he isn't cared for because he's bruce's son - he's cared for because he's worth loving. his siblings aren't competition for affection or honour. he no longer sees bruce as an omnipotent force, and rather as a man he could learn to love. i think seeing bruce through both talia and dick's persepectives really helps with that.
bruce i think is confronted by the fact that for the first time in his life he can't try and hide behind the "im not really xyz's father" excuse. not that his adopted kids aren't his kids, obviously, but i do think he sometimes tries to lean on that as a crutch so he doesn't get attached (way too late for that lol). he loves damian, and there's a lot of fear about damian reflecting his worst habits, his most self-destructive behaviours back at him. maybe there's some fear about damian's history of killing, and how close bruce himself always feels to that edge. maybe there's misery about missing one of his kids growing up, again, like he's always a second too late to the important moments. bruce and damian are so similar, but this is bruce's second chance to be there. he is thomas wayne, emerging from the alley alive. do u think damian looks like his grandparents?
#sorry this mostly ended up being about dick again oops#damian wayne#bruce wayne#dick grayson#batman#robin#dc comics#the ask and the answer#also i have spondylitis so my back would literally give out
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Heyy!! I don’t know if you still do Chrollo fics , but if you’re doing recommendations/commissions , can you make something like where the readers like “do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” and he’s like “yes. of course I will my darling” ?? It’s based off a sound I heard somewhere .. I think the song is called “I want it all” by Lana del ray. Thank you!! 🫶
damn he really would say that huh?
Bad Habit.
Yan Chrollo x F Reader.
Synopsis: “Where there is carnage, there is beauty.”
Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, general anxiety and uneasiness, references to disturbing works of art (Saturn Devouring His Son, The Nightmare, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan), manipulation, and talks of violence.
Word Count: 900.
*~*~*~*
There are as many things people can see as beautiful as there are shades of light shining through a prism.
Spectrums are quite common along with comparison and placement. It varies greatly from person to person, their preferences and their life experiences and their joys, and their fears.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes, but the eye of the beholder is also the window to their soul, to their psychological responses and traumas and memories of a past that would rather either be forgotten or worshiped. Every soul is different, and there is beauty in that. So, why do you find the heart and soul of Chrollo Lucilfer, whom many would call beautiful if they never knew him for what he truly is, so, so simply lovely? It does not have to do with his mannerisms or his confidence or his knowledge of virtually everything in this world, you concluded one day, after receiving yet another call from him, with him, as always, asking general questions like if you miss him and such. It is because he is the only thing I can cling to that will stay here, with me.
You cling onto him like a lost puppy, yearning for any sort of affection they can get no matter the cost. You did that when he first transported you from one place to another with hardly regarding any words from you on the matter. You do that now, in this art museum, full of unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar artwork and unfamiliar architecture. You missed home, back then. You still do now, and Chrollo still does not care one bit.
His hand is like a cuff, his arm like a chain, as he walks with you from one room to the next. But, still, it is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart.
So, like a sort of dance, you two move in sync. It is up to Chrollo as to if or when you will stop. It is never up to you, after all.
Does Chrollo enhance the horrific allure of these paintings, or does he once again bring all the attention to himself?
*~*~*~*
“Mythology often comes from our own woes.” He says, pointing upward, slowly, to Cronos’s eyes, which are bloodshot and large and dark. “A popular theory was that Goya was representing an oppressive government through Kronos, and the son that was prophesized to kill him as an adult represented the people who had started to revolt. But others don’t see it that way, oddly enough.”
You don’t respond, you simply look at the beheaded infant, which looks so soft and so rotten at the same time, with blood and deskinned chewed flesh running down his neck. He fits into his father’s hands perfectly, like he was made to be eaten.
*~*~*~*
“While most incubi are written and drawn as physically attractive creatures, this one in particular looks more akin to a gargoyle than that of a man.” He hums, and you can feel his hand wrap more tightly around yours. Not so much in a strangling, hurtful way, but rather just in a sort of reminderful way. “Maybe Fuseli was trying to make sure that the point of what the incubus really is is sent across to the viewers?”
With not a single word coming out of your mouth, a sure sign that you are zoning out his words, he squeezes a bit tighter to get your attention back where he wants it to be.
“What do you think, beloved?”
Once again, instead of answering, you choose to remain silent and focus your attention on other things. So, you look around. To the floor. To your high heels. Everything else, anything else. Only silence remains for a few more moments, but when the silence is not enjoyed any longer with another increase in his grip, you decide to answer before you get yourself into trouble.
“...I… I think that maybe it deals with sleep paralysis.”
Chrollo widens his eyes and smirks, and from those actions alone you know you have created a believable lie and concept that is sure to be amusing to him.
You’re forgiven.
*~*~*~*
“Historians say that the son’s death was the point of no return for Ivan.” A cradling of the arms and a Cat’s Cradle are the same; they both trap those within them.
Eyes are still eyes, whether they are real or not. Ivan the Terrible’s show a thousand tragedies and a thousand other faces his destiny could have worn, if he pushed the other one aside, if he had the strength to.
“Just like how Ivan was his son’s undoing, his son was also his.”
*~*~*~*
“...Would you ever kill for me?”
Violence is often not the only path Chrollo can choose to take. His words can be another, albeit that road will be much longer, and less smooth.
Who knows what he will choose when the hour of the heist comes to fruition when the art can finally be grasped and never let go of?
Which path do you prefer?
Which path does he prefer?
Do you prefer to be threatened with sweet honey that sticks to your skin or is so hot that it burns it?
“Of course, my dear.”
What you find grotesque, like the way the topic of violence is spoken so naturally from you and him, Chrollo always seems to find beautiful, like the way your moving lips are so lush.
…
Paintings are often just a reflection of how the world is, after all.
#aya abstractions#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere hxh#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo x reader#chrollo x reader#yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere hunter x hunter x reader#yandere hxh x reader#200 followers event
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BTS Jungkook Birth chart analysis
Based on my opinions and observations. Not an expert. May change later.
September 1st, 1997
Busan, South Korea
3:25 PM
☀️♍️, 🌙♍️, ⬆️♑️
Sun, Moon, and Mercury are in Virgo, giving him a Virgo stellium. He is detail oriented, helpful and reliable, and incredibly hard working, not a slacker at all. The downsides are that he's likely very critical on himself and others (but more likely on himself; Virgos are just...a little too self aware lol), perfectionistic, nitpicky, and can be an overthinker. E.g the time he was crying about a small mistake he made on stage that the other members hadn't seen at all. They all sit in the 8th house as well and form conjunctions to each other (sun conjunct moon and mercury, moon conjunct mercury)
Virgo Sun in 8th is very private and maybe even shy. Jungkook's not really an extrovert tbh, he has a small circle and is often seen hanging out with the same few friends. This placement is quite picky with who they choose to let into their life - they have to be extremely sure they can trust you to completely let you in their inner world.
Moon in 8th is an intense placement. Very strong feelings here. Having a Virgo moon though should help calm the intensity a little or at least help him navigate his feelings in a more structured way. Virgo moons tends to analyze and rationalize their thoughts and feelings. This could explain why Jungkook's never been the type to openly show his deeper feelings. This house can be transactional and Virgo is a sign of service, so he may find security in helping/servicing others. And people like to reciprocate the helpful energy for him too.
Mercury in 8th is a deeply curious and investigative placement. Virgo mercury is especially detailed - nothing gets past Jungkook. It's known he lurked around in fandom space on tiktok and twitter, so he most likely knows all the jokes and other things the fans talk about. This placement wants to understand things deeply.
Neptune, Uranus, and Jupiter are in 1st house. Neptune (illusions) and Uranus (unpredictable and constant change) can make a person chameleon-like in terms of appearance and Jungkook is versatile in fashion. It could explain why it was a bit confusing to guess his rising sign.
Jupiter in 1st - puts in a lot of effort into everything he does, may sometimes overdo things. Tries to be optimistic and upbeat, wants to enjoy life to the fullest.
Libra Venus is domicile and in 9th. Curious and knowledge seeking, especially curious about new cultures and places
Mars Scorpio in the 10th is very passionate and ambitious. Very determined to succeed in his career and reach all the goals he sets for himself. His motto "I would rather die than live without passion" is a perfect example of this placement.
Saturn in 3rd - some sort of challenge with communication. This placement can be very shy and maybe even a bit self conscious, socially anxious. Jungkook was incredibly shy when he was younger - iirc he would even cry when asked to sing and used to be so shy around the members predebut in general.
Pluto in 11th - a strange tense relationship with the idea of friendship. He didn't have much close friends when he was young and going to a whole new city made him even lonelier. However meeting BTS gave him friendship, which helped his loneliness a lot. They even helped him get over his shyness and support him with anything he does. He cares very deeply about them, even crying when they were talking about the struggles they were going through. He considers them his family, which makes sense since he was basically raised by them. He himself is quite influential as well (a given as he's a huge celebrity though) and can pretty much make anything he likes and anywhere goes become very popular.
Chiron in 10th - worried about how his image and reputation is perceived by others. Considering how incredibly shy Jungkook was when he was younger, it's not surprising he may have had a lot of self doubt about his journey to being an idol (along with the very self critical Virgo stellium. Chiron in 10th + Virgo stellium is careful and perfectionistic in order to have a good image). There may be issues of self esteem and power (mainly with authority and/or with himself) within his life.
With North Node in 8th though, it pushes Jungkook to be more open to create relations with others. He doesn't have to do everything alone - he should learn to rely on others and be comfortable being more open, both mentally and emotionally.
Capricorn rising is a little surprising ngl...However, I think it explains his physical features well. His eyes (I've noticed many Cap placements have big eyes), his face structure, and especially his hair. Capricorn rising hair is always very noticeable considering Capricorns rule hair. And like most earth risings, he can be down to earth and reserved - he keeps to himself a lot. Definitely very hard working like a Capricorn, ambitious and strives for success.
His Libra MC could be why many people thought he was a Libra rising. It is at 29°, a Leo degree, so that could also explain why people thought he could have been a Leo rising too. Libra mc is artsy and creative, which shows in his art skills in drawing, photography, and editing. Obviously his singing and dancing as well. It's apparent in his fashion too: experimenting with his hair styles, his sleeve tattoo, his piercings, and darker yet neat clothing style.
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Other analysis:
MBTI | Enneagram
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Kpop astrology list
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#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts#bts jungkook#bts astrology#astrology#birth chart#birth chart analysis#kpop#kpop astrology#kpop birth chart analysis#bangtan boys#bangtan#virgo sun#virgo moon#virgo stellium#8th house stellium#capricorn rising#libra midheaven
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Eterna's Iceberg of Race Replays
I keep seeing people asking about how to watch MotoGP race replays in a financially responsible way, so here's my guide on where to find them!
TIER 1: MotoGP YouTube Channel Playlist
MotoGP is probably one of the better racing series in that there are race replays readily accessible on their YouTube channel. They also do have some replays on their Facebook if you have the time to do an archaeological excavation, which I forgot to put on the iceberg (for example the 2014 Qatar GP). Since it's on their official accounts, it's at the top.
TIER 2: Motomundo
Many a motoheads' trusted source for replays! Motomundo also has various documentaries, as well as practice, qualifying and testing replays. Motomundo also has a VKVideo account that which you can use if you are so inclined. Unfortunately, it has been reported of late that many of the videos have stopped working, with most of the older races not accessible at all. On the second tier since it is widely recommended and an open secret.
TIER 3: BiliBili (1) (2)
This one is kind of unusual! Some endeavoring fans have done a great work of philanthropy by uploading entire seasons of MotoGP replays onto BiliBili, which is basically the Chinese equivalent of YouTube...but more. It can be overwhelming (they have a function where users can write comments which then are displayed on the screen while the video plays, for example) and maybe when I have more time, I could write a guide. Another circumstance of these replays being Chinese reuploads is that the commentary is also in Chinese, and there are some really very ugly watermarks from the broadcast itself that cannot be readily edited out. However, the archive is VERY extensive, although it only comprises of races. On the third tier since BiliBili is very popular in China, but more obscure in the West, and I only found this because I am Chinese and already had knowledge of the platform. The first link leads to a collection in which all the races from 1979-2019 have been uploaded. The second is from the same user, however it is just footage of 2020 testing. Unfortunately it seems that their uploads have paused there, at least for now.
TIER 4: This suspicious ass looking website
If you've ventured this far down into the iceberg, I'm assuming that suspicious looking websites that have the potential to give you a virus don't phase you. But nevertheless, as a disclaimer, this website is a little hard to navigate. However, not only does it provide MotoGP coverage (in English), it also covers the feeder series as well and includes them in their race weekend compilations. There are options to view the race in varying resolutions, as well as links to various other uploads on Meta (not THAT Meta) and the like. Unfortunately around 2018 are where the uploads become a bit spotty, with many of the videos being unplayable and the links also leading nowhere. A very warranted tier four rating.
TIER 5: ArchivoGP (1) (2) (3)
The reason I placed this one so low is not necessarily because it's better than the rest of the sources (in fact, at time of writing this post a good portion of their videos have been taken offline) but because the story in finding it was actually pretty funny. For context, I was on the hunt for a clip of Marc Marquez giving reigning world champion Pecco Bagnaia the thumbs up at the end of Mugello Q2 (thank you tumblr user suzuki-ecstar for replying to me about this...) and none of the sources I was using (so, any of the above already listed) had that clip. I was gnashing and gnawing my teeth in pain. So where else does one go to find something that is presumably lost? Internet Archive! I really thought this was the end of the road and I would have to clip that moment from a shitty vertical YouTube Short or something. Pain. But then I happen upon a full MotoGP replay. It wasn't of the session I wanted, but when I looked into the user a little further, I saw that they had uploaded various other full race replays. In their bio it was stated that they had a Telegram channel under the same name (ArchivoGP), so I did a Google search and found that they indeed did. Happily, their uploads (which are DAZN broadcasts consisting of pre-GP, practice, qualifying, sprint, feature race, post-GP and also cover the feeder classes) DID have that moment and that is the story of how I finished a fancam with the help of Internet Archive, which once again has saved my life. The three different links above lead to their old site, their new(?) one, and their video archive in question which is hosted on TokyVideo. Unfortunately their archive only dates back to 2020, and as I have stated previously some of them have been taken down.
MISCELLANEOUS: (1) (2)
These are some assorted Internet Archive sources which I found while trying to backtrack how I found the previous source. I haven't had the time to actually sort through and vet the videos except for one, the original ArchivoGP user uploads (which is the first link, though I'm not entirely sure because they have since changed the name of the channel).
I hope with this masterpost I have saved you guys a lot of time that you (and me, to be honest) do not have. If you want to know where to watch races LIVE, user kingofthering has a very handy dandy masterpost here which you can go check out.
Psst: in general, if you want to very legally watch something, this is a good resource that I recommend. Cheers! ;)
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My sweet boy ☆—
Request: 🐞Warren gets his first girlfriend and Honey gets emotional cause her baby is growing up.
Picture this!! Warren x Black Cat character
Au Masterlist!!
Growing up Warren was always a shy boy.
He was popular in the sense that he was extremely talented in his sport, the one that his father and uncles were also stars in, and the one that had news outlets buzzing about him and the generational talent they claimed him to be.
But no news article or tabloid would ever capture just how humble and timid he was.
So when Warren Hughes eventually brought home a girl, everyone within the Hughes' family and friends was shocked.
The girl in question was Marissa, who happened to be so far away from Warren's usual world, but she was perfect for him.
She held little to no knowledge about the hockey world, which was something Warren almost preferred, no pressure, no expectation, just her poetry books and detective fiction.
Her mother was a professor at UBC, head of the English facility, specializing in nineteenth-century literature, leading Marissa to her love of Poe's work.
And she, well she was just some literature junkie who craved a fiction-like love.
which she received from one of the purest hearts in her lifetime.
Marissa had always been the pinnacle of his desires, he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't pined after her for the better half of middle school and high school.
Something about her awkwardly blunt demeanour, and warm smile made him forget his name, made him forget the entire English language in fact.
Warren asked her out in their shared bio class, his face a very cute shade of pink as he stuttered about wanting to take her out for coffee.
Her eyes went wide at his invitation, she was weird, she was deliberately known as the weird girl in their graduating class so to Marissa she was either living a dream or he was trying to set her up for some sick joke.
If you had told her within the next month she would've fallen absolutely head over heels for him, she would've said that you were lying, but it was true. Warren Hughes, the infamous hockey himbo, was the easiest person to fall in love with.
In the span of the first month, she had met his family, kissed him at the fair, and somehow convinced him to try reading classics.
He prom-proposed to her in April of that year, nothing spectacular just a bouquet of tulips and a few shared kisses as they drove around the coast of Vancouver in her mom's car.
Warren was her passenger Princess, and she was the keeper of his heart, it was perfect in the ways that they were total opposites but so right for each other all at the same time.
It was like from pen to paper, and then to real life, a portrayal of the purest fictional love.
Honey loved Marissa, she was always respectful, and a pleasant guest in the house, but most importantly she had brought a little more love into Warren's life.
It had been his draft year, and just like most boys who have the spotlight turned on them, Warren was seemingly losing a sense of his being within the media and the articles.
But Marissa changed that, and Honey quite literally loved her for that.
The woman stood in the living room, tears in her eyes as she fixed her son's tie, “it's almost as if you do this for every game day,” she teased as her hands flattened out the collar of his dress shirt.
“I said I could do it, just want it to be perfect,” he mumbled as she smiled, her hands cupping her son's face as she scrunched up his face.
"for my health, please stop growing," she said, voice growing weaker as the tears started, Quinn and Hayden came into the room, all dressed up and ready for the picture portion of the night.
"When did Marissa's family say that they would be here?" Quinn asked as Honey found her at her husband's side, trying to dry her tears as she watched her once baby fix his styled hair.
He looked down at his phone, "They should be here any minute," he shrugged before a quiet knock on the door made him freeze, cheeks blazing red as the anxiety of prom night kicked in.
Honey opened the door with a beaming smile, "perfect timing!" she said pulling Marissa's mother into a hug as she ushered the young girl's family into the house.
Marissa looked beautiful, there were far better words to put just how good she looked, but Warren couldn't think of a single one.
She wore a pale yellow dress, lace and tool decorating the skirt and shaping her hips, showing just enough cleavage to seem modest but still teasing what she had.
Her hair fell so perfectly just above her shoulder, bangs styled the usual way but were accentuated with the metal headband she wore, little stars forming a crown on her head as she smiled at her boyfriend whose face lit up like a candle.
"Hi," she whispered from the other side of the door frame, Warren's body blocking her from entering the house, stuck in an anxious trance that made her stomach roll with nerves, "you okay?"
He shook his head, riding himself off the dazed expression and smiling shyly, "You look perfect," he mumbled making her smirk.
"Don't look so bad yourself handsome," she said with some more confidence, raising up on her tiptoes to press and gloss-covered kiss to his cheek, making his face blush a much deeper red.
He took her by the hand and led her into the living room where the two families waited for them.
A gasp left Honey's lips as she saw them both, tears in her eyes as she watched Warren spin the girl around, his cheeks rosy and face broken out into a grin as his girlfriend hugged herself closer to his side.
The two of them grew anxious under their families' stares as both dads tried to hurry up the picture taking process and getting 'the show on the road, so they could be early for the grand march portion of the night.
"Quinn," Honey whispered through her smile, "look how happy our baby is, let him have a moment," she said quietly before pressing a kiss to her husband's cheek.
"Remember when we were that young," he grinned thinking back to their prom when Honey spent months being mad at him.
Even though they weren't together at the time, he'd promised to take her to prom if neither of them were in relationships, the time came and he never asked, just assuming they were going together. She spent weeks mad that he had forgotten about her, until the night before when he asked what time she wanted to be picked up.
"Yeah when you forgot to ask me to prom," she laughed as his lips formed a straight line.
"I wasn't the brightest," he shrugged making his wife laugh, thinking about the very couple-looking prom photos that hung in her living room for years, constant teasing from their sibling about how in love they looked even with the lack of established relationship.
They took photos out by the trees in their front yards, tiny pink petals blossoming on the branches as each family took photos with their respective child and then the two of them taking photos together.
Honey held it together for all of her photos and broke the moment Warren dipped Marissa as she placed a kiss on his cheek for a photo.
Her hand covered her mouth to muffle her cries as she leaned against Quinn, "thought you said you weren't gonna cry, only during the grad ceremony," the man mused as she nudged Quinn's side.
"Shut up, our baby is grown and in love, I hate it," she sniffed, "remember when took him home from the hospital and our moms were gushing over how much he looked like you? I miss him being that small," she whispered as Quinn laughed and wrapped his arm around her, hugging her into his side as she wiped the tears.
"I do too, but now he's a whole person, and we helped shape him into that person" he grinned as Warren shook Marissa's father's hand, and was pulled into a hug by her mother, "and I'd say we did a pretty good job."
Warren placed a kiss on Marissa's cheek as she went to talk to her family and Warren went to his.
"Is it okay if I drive my truck to the school, therefore we don't have to rely on you guys to pick us up?" Honey nodded and looked at Quinn.
"You're not drinking if you drive?"
"Of course not," he shrugged, "We don't know if we are even going to the grad party but if we do and I drive I won't drink, and if I want to I will call one of you," Quinn smiled and nodded as he squeezed his son's shoulder.
"Deal, now go have fun," he approved with a grin as Warren ran into the house to grab his keys.
Quinn grinned at Honey, "I'd say we did an amazing job," he bragged causing Honey to cry even more.
"Please stop talking Q," she groaned as she led the way to their car, saying their goodbyes to Marissa's family as they got into the van.
They watched as Warren opened the passenger side door for the young girl who blushed at his actions, got into his car and drove off in the direction of the school.
Honey couldn't stop the growing, it was inevitable, but she could join along for the ride, watching as her son turned from one of the sweetest boys into a caring man.
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#thelittlesthughesau!!#captain huggy celly#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes fic#nhl x reader#nhl fic#dad!quinn hughes#jack hughes
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Been thinking about my Saltburn boys and how Farleigh is so obviously a Slytherin but with Oliver and Felix it could almost be any combination? Walk with me…
Slytherin Oliver and Hufflepuff Felix: Felix is a total sweetheart, a cutie patootie, the Cedric Diggory of his generation! Everyone loves him. He’s just so easy to love. Oliver is… well. He’s without a doubt the most knowledgeable student when it comes to the Dark Arts, there’s rumours that he’s a parselmouth and he moves in complete expressionless silence… Needless to say, everyone is shocked at their sudden relationship. How the two of them became close is a total mystery, and witnessing their intimacy feels like watching a legend in the making… but Felix smiles brighter now, and everyone has seen the small smiles Oliver directs at Felix, so you won’t catch anyone complaining.
OR
Ravenclaw Oliver and Gryffindor Felix: Popular, quidditch captain Felix who everyone admires and his bookworm, certified genius boyfriend Oliver. Oliver is the top student in all of his subjects, and that is a lot of subjects. He has no energy for stupidity, and enjoys studying alone… but for Felix he will always make an exception. Oliver will happily help Felix study, and the two of them can often be found in the library as Oliver re-explains concepts with all the patience in the world. Felix is a himbo at heart, but that’s okay! Who needs to think when you have the smartest boyfriend ever? Instead of stressing about school, he can focus on his future seeker career. Oliver will always be there to support him through exam season. Students are used to the spot of Ravenclaw colours in the Gryffindor stands. Oliver is always there with a book to read or an assignment to finish. “You’re my lucky charm Ollie! Who cares if you’re watching? I’m just happy with the comfort of knowing that whenever I look into the stands, you’ll always be there.”
OR
Hufflepuff Oliver and Slytherin Felix: Felix comes from a powerful pureblood family and he’s always been part of the elite. He may seem relaxed and lax a lot of the time, but he’s smarter than he looks. He’s silently top of a lot of his classes, and he won the Triwizard Tournament effortlessly. He’s charismatic and charming and Oliver being his best friend makes no sense to any of his Slytherin circles. Oliver is a soft spoken, soft hearted, Hufflepuff who’s muggle-born heritage means that he should never have been on Felix is radar. Felix is the most sought out match in pureblood society, so everyone is shocked – and Farleigh is completely unimpressed – when it looks like Felix might genuinely be courting Oliver. (All the other students don’t get why all that pureblood nonsense even matters. Sure it’s sad to realise that Felix is off the market, but have you seen him with Oliver?! Oliver’s usually so reserved, but he absolutely glows when Felix is around. Felix can be pretty cocky sometimes, but with Oliver he mellows out and he can be so soft and sweet. Oliver is so timid that he barely notices, but everyone else can see that Felix looks absolutely smitten whenever Oliver’s around. It’s the purest love story, and all that exhausting blood purity stuff pales in comparison).
OR
i could go on and on about every possible house dynamic but i’m not sure if anyone else cares so i’ll stop here for now and say to be (possibly) continued
#oliver quick#felix catton#saltburn harry potter au#hogwarts houses#farleigh start is a slytherin#saltburn#farleigh start#cattonquick#this theory exists in the multiverse of madness i've created for saltburn in my head
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Lost, I think Erwin was only in 65% of the manga/anime, yet I don't think anyone has ever left such a long-lasting impression on the audience. He ranks higher than the mc in the character polls, and he even once ranked higher than Levi. People still love and praise him even though he's been dead for years. Why do you think this is? What makes him such a compelling character?
I’ve been sitting on this ask for months because it feels like such a huge responsibility to answer it. What is it that makes Erwin Smith such a compelling and enduringly popular character, despite having been written out of the story years ago?
The most obvious reason is that Erwin is a well written character with considerable depth. He is a brave and inspiring military commander who leads from the front and dies heroically, laying down his life to ensure the main characters live to fight another day. He plays a pivotal role in the story and, long after he dies, continues to be a motivating force for several other characters. He’s also pretty easy on the eye, which does no harm either.
However characters like this are ten a penny in manga and anime so I don’t think this is enough to explain Erwin’s enduring appeal. There’s a very interesting interview with Isayama from 2016 where he talks about coming to understand Erwin’s character, which I think gets to the heart of the matter.
“...for Erwin, there’s no person I can easily compare him to…The main reason for that is probably because I didn’t have anyone in my life who was an “insightful leader” like my initial portrayal of Erwin. Of course, I’m sure there were people who were “insightful leaders” to a certain degree around me, but—and this is likely due to a quirk of my own personality—the grander a person, the more my eyes are drawn to the places where they’re frayed, or are coming apart at the seams.
Armin once said of him, “If a person existed who was capable of bringing change, they would have to be able to sacrifice things that are important to them.”
Erwin is certainly someone who can do that, but because I had no one in reality to model him on, and because I, the creator, had no shred of an “insightful leader” within myself to use either, I think I ended up making Erwin more and more human as I went along.
Lately, though, I’ve started enjoying drawing Erwin. To put it simply, I think it’s because I am now able to write Erwin not as the “insightful leader,” but as he is inside my heart, an Erwin who is very complex inside."
And Erwin is a very complex and conflicted character. He’s also a deeply unreliable narrator who sees his own actions in the very worst possible light. He has the ability to motivate others to great feats of heroism, but at the same time he sees himself as a fraud and a conman. He carries a huge burden of guilt over his father’s death, yet he isn’t driven by vengeance, what drives him forward is the pursuit of knowledge and his desire to prove his father’s theories were right. He is a ruthless commander, willing to sacrifice countless soldiers to achieve his goal, but he also devised a Scouting formation that saved numerous lives. He is also quite literally haunted by all the men and women who died under his command. He’s incredibly insightful and intelligent, always thinking several steps ahead of everyone else, but he isn’t invulnerable to being manipulated by unscrupulous characters like Zackley, who was able to spot his weakness. He believes that he alone is pursuing his own selfish dream, despite all the characters having their own dreams and motivations. Yet despite his misgivings, he is able to set aside his dream, and lay down his life for the greater goal of saving humanity. He presents an implacable facade to the world, yet he privately admits to wishing he could end his life. So many deeply human contradictions.
Although Erwin is a hugely compelling character in his own right, I don’t think we can overlook the importance of his relationship with Levi, who of course is the most popular character in the series (sorry Eren). Regardless of whether you ship them or not , it’s impossible to ignore the importance of Erwin’s relationship with Levi (and vice versa). I’ve written reams over the years about Erwin and Levi’s relationship, which I’m not going to repeat here, but I am going to point the famous quote from Ono Diasuke who described Levi as the last stronghold of Erwin’s humanity, because that’s what is really important.
Ultimately Erwin is a complex, contradictory human being and it’s his humanity, rather than his heroism, and the emotional conflict at the heart of his character that continue to fascinates and move people.
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Pen to Paper
Writer!femYuu and NRC students
(+Grampa Trein)
Yuu didn't have much to offer this world. There wasn't much she was good at. All she had were loose stories she vaguely remembered from her old world. She just wanted to remember that world. (Bare with me. I'm trying to convey this as best as I can with a kind of meta subject)
Trein made his assignment easy for the week. Just write about an interesting event from their homeland.
But Yuu didn't know much about this world and while it might have been interesting stories within it she could help that she had no connection to it. She felt it when she thought about her world. Or worlds to be exact.
She had asked Trein to help her due to her lack of knowledge.
"I simply asked for you to write about the lands you come from. If you come from another world it's all the more reason to write about it." rein said gently. He could probably see how much the assignment troubled her.
Yuu wondered what her classmate would think about her home and her old life. Still, she decided to write.
It was hard to explain but she started where she began.
In a land, in a kingdom, in a city, in the heavens. This was where she was born. In the land of gates, Halos.
The floating city was the center of the many realms that bordered it, it was also called the Nexus. It was a given that it's people were called "Travelers", those who dedicate their lives to seeing worlds unknown.
The young girl loved her home and never wished to leave. Even though she watched her friends come and go, she couldn't bear to.
But staying had a cost. Unlike the others, she never gained abilities bestowed on them as rewards for journeying into the unknown. She didn't even have wings to fly like the others.
One day she was given no choice but to leave. Life in Halos was becoming dangerous. To escape she was forced to jump through a gate and sent to another realm.
Trein skimmed the pages again. Was that it? That's not even a full story.
"Miss Yuu. You put alot of thought into this I'm sure but this isn't even a complete story." Trein only glared skeptical when Yuu smiled meekly.
"Well that's the thing. This story is called "The unfinished ballad" it's one of the first stories of my people. It's also the first story children learn." Yuu shyly rubbed the back of her head as she spoke. She knew this story the most considering how popular it was.
"It's supposed to be unfinished then? What kind of story is that? Not to be rude but I've never heard of something like that." Trein had seen many things but never heard of a culture like that. It certainly sounded like another world.
"Yeah, some stories are left unfished for a reason. One, to remind people that not everything has a conclusion, and two, so that we can write our own endings. For thousands of years, my people have rewritten and remained the story and what happened next. Everyone has their own version." Yuu reasoned. She had never thought of it as strange. This world was different so they had different ideas.
Trein while he understood still wasn't satisfied. He let it go regardless but encouraged Yuu to tell her stories regardless.
Though he wondered if her story was true or a fairy tale.
"And Molly turned to the giant after she crossed the bridge the wight of a single hair and yelled. Oh, and Molly could yell!" Yuu took in a deep breath. "Never more churl, I'll come to Spain! I've come and I've bested you thrice."
All the children cheered as Yuu waved her hands around.
"The giant still angry at the little thief shook his fat fist and yelled, 'I'll get you Molly Whoopy! Never you terry here again or I swear I'll eat you from tips to toes'!" The children jeered and laughed at Yuu giant voice.
A little later story time was over and the kids had left the library. Yuu dusted off the chalkboard that had read "Tales from the Other World: Damsels causing Distress." It was her biweekly presentation of stories from her homeland.
As she cleaned up her props she heard a shifting behind her. When she looked up it was a few of her classmates "Rook, Kalim, and Cater" an unexpected but understandable combination. They hung out apparently. The strange part was why they were here. They weren't exactly library types nor had kids to take here.
"You didn't think I'd find you here huh freashie?" Cater teased holding up his phone to show her the library's magicam promotional post with her in the picture.
"How did you manage to find this place?" Yuu asked sheepishly.
"I'm very good at finding you." Rook smiled wryly.
"I just tagged along," Kalim added.
"And now that I posted your adorable little show everyone will know!" Cater teased holding his phone up to show her.
Yuu flushed in embarrassment. Everyone would see her talking in silly voices and waving puppets around.
"Carter you should ask to post stuff like that." Yuu's nose crinkled in frustration.
"That's not fair. The library has videos of all your shows, why can't I?" Carter argued.
"That's different, it's for the kids who can't come to all the shows. Besides no one at school could find them unless they already knew about it but everyone knows your socials." Yuu crossed her arms.
"Yuu. It's time to go." A voice interrupted.
Trein stood behind the group with Lucius trotting behind him. He had been the one to help Yuu set up the show with the library after Yuu expressed an interest in telling stories. It was after she started staying with Trein and babysitting for his granddaughters.
"Oh, sorry. I need to grab my props and I'll be right there."yuu said before waving goodbye. "Can we stop at Ana's bakery before we get home?"
"Only if you don't give any to Lucius. Even if he begs." Trein warned.
The video circulated over the weekend. Almost everyone in school had seen at least one of the storytime videos. Everyone wanted to hear more about this world with stories they had never heard. Each story had a preface about the region and the history of its origin and even if unintentional it was educational.
Next week's show was "Over the Hills and Through the Woods"
Yuu held her breath when she realized how big the crowd was with families faces watching.
She pretended not to notice Ortho sitting up front with the kids who sat criss-cross applesauce on the colorful paymat.
Riddle also sat close to the front since the rules stated that the shortest goes to the first. The parent usually hung back at the tables so no to get in the way.
Even Leona was present though he appeared to not really care along with Ruggie. Jack on the other hand was laser-focused on Yuu as she moved her props. Perhaps he knew that the first story was "The Wolf".
"Gather around children and listen to my tale, of a little girl who walked through the woods," Yuu said mysteriously as the lights dimmed on queue. "Stories about children getting in trouble then they wonder beyond their yard are common across the world and it's no different in mine. But today's tale comes from a storyteller I once met."
Yuu tapped a button and suddenly music began to play.
The music was light and festive like a carnival.
"It was the folktale festival held in town and everyone young and old was there to share and tell their tales. From encounters with kings to meeting the fea everyone had a story." At the fea line the dragon and bat fea perked up a bit.
"I was eager to hear a certain teller and was running late because I just had to get the last turkey leg before anyone else got it. Unfortunately the crowd was so big and not even a mouse could squeeze by." She emphasized the word by squishing her cheeks.
The teens in the crowd wouldn't admit it but one of the reasons they were there was seeing how cute Yuu was when she acted for the show. From the funny voices to exaggerated movements.
"There was only one path that cut through the grass but the sign said no walking on the grass. And well I didn't walk. I dashed. But soon enough I learned how important rules are. Just like someone else in our first story." With that Yuu picked up a small basket and inside was a a red scarf. She wrapped it on her head and began .
"Once there was a girl from a village of people who only wore fine red clothes. Scarfs, hats, coats and hoods. The little girl was packing her bag to visit her grandmother who lived in the woods but her mother pulled her by her hood. The mother wore a beautiful scarlet scarf that she never removed and told her daughter. Don't travel in the woods after dark. The wolf will snatch you by the head and nothing will be left. But Red shook her head. I won't mom I promise. It's still light and I will be quick." Yuu clicked her tongue and the crowd knew what to expect next.
"You see Red didn't believe in the wolf. A wolf hadn't attacked in many years and certainly not during the girl's lifetime. So she had no fear but she didn't want to worry her mother. And off she was. Over the hill and through the woods to grandmother's house she went, but as she went further the woods got darker and quieter. Until she could only hear the sound of blood in her ears and her own heartbeat. As if time had chosen to spite her and rush forward the sun was setting faster. And faster. " the story had begun to take a darker turn and everyone was on edge. "But the night was lovely. She smelled moonlit flowers and hopped over bubbling streams. The air was crisp. Fireflies dotted the air. She wondered why her family hated the night so. What beauty it held."
"The shadows grew longer and the moon had taken the sun's place. And yet she heard nothing. Not even the snap of a twig. The bath grew longer and twisted unfamiliarly. Yet the girl was enchanted. What fun! What adventure! Then she heard it. Breathing. Like puffs of air on her neck. Hot like the lick of flames. Red didn't stop walking knowing that hesitation meant death." Yuu paused.
The audience stared in breathless expectation. Trying to figure out what comes next. Does the girl die? Does she live?
" Then it was gone. The air was cool and all was calm. Then she saw the hazy light of a little cottage in the woods and she ran to the door that opened to a kind old woman in a red scarf. She called to her grandmother and they hugged. They ate dinner and Red washed up for the night. And as she lay and bed she spoke. What a night I had. I traveled through the woods at night and there was no wolf this time. I knew that it was nothing. But as she turned to sleep a shadow in her window spoke. It's red piercing eyes gaping maw open in a sneer." Yuu held a breath before continuing in a deep voice "Oh, but you must travel through those woods again and again... said a shadow at the window... and you must be lucky to avoid the wolf every time... But the wolf... the wolf only needs enough luck to find you once."
The room was silent. The children looked on in shock, fear and amazement. Parents nodded along in amusement knowing a good scare could stop their child from doing something wrong.
Jack liked that story, alot. In fact the Savanaclaws found the story to be something worth hearing and hilarious. Leona would have liked it better if the girl got eaten.
Riddle liked the lesson most.
Floyd and Jade also liked it and compared it to the "Wolf eel" a mer version of the tale. It was far more bloody.
"That's why you must listen to rules my dears. Something I learned as well. When I tried to cross the grass as I dashed and scampered. But every step didn't get me any closer to the tent I wanted to go to. It was as if I was going in circles as I heard the singing from the music tent I felt like I had just passed. Suddenly I saw myself walking toward a different tent a bright red one with yellow trim, green ropes, and blue stakes in the ground that was on the grass. I didn't realize it at first but as I sat down for the show everyone else in the tent was not people like me. They had bright colorful hair, hooves, horns, wings, and other non-human traits. I was in fact among the fae. Not totally uncommon in my realm but usually the stuff of storytellers only. Hardly unusual here but the fae of my realm are different from yours plus that's hardly the most unusual people I've met. I once got invited to a banquet of demons and angels just to settle an argument but that's another tale. I stayed and listened to their stories as they welcomed me. We laughed, danced, and shared more tales still. When it was time to leave I said my goodbyes and left the tent. And the festival grounds were empty even though it would be three more days until was over. I should have known better than to party with the fae when I had plans. I never got to listen to the storyteller I wanted to meet. That's another reason we follow the rules." Yuu said finishing the first round of stories.
The crowd laughed seeing that Yuu was more concerned about missing an event then being trapped with the fae.
Another reason to come to these shows is Yuu's personal stories were so wild. No one knew if they were true or not. If you asked she'd say the same thing "Truth is stranger then fiction."
(I finally freed it from my drafts after months. And I swear my dyslexia is getting worse.)
#writer!yuu#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland yuu#mozus trein#twst trein#twst jack#jack howl x reader#jack howl#cater diamond#twst cater#twst kalim#kalim al asim#twst leona#leona kingscholar#riddle rosehearts#twst riddle#rook hunt#twst rook
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