#❝ really‚ it wasn't about the cult‚ it was about the one cultist who didn't know the rules ❞ {jerry pascal}

[gas-stxtion]

//tag dump

[yanderefarm]

yandere cultist but its omegaverse

cw; religion, cults, yandere themes, omegaverse

ill post the introduction for him later too. ive had this idea for a minute i thought it was fun. u always see yandere cult leaders wheres the yandere followers who act the way they do because they're following what they were told. wheres the yandere cultists who have been convinced that you're their chosen soulmate and will do anything to prove it to you.

also i got the dominant thing from a yaoi manhwa i dropped i don't remember what it was called but im sure this trope isn't original to the verse i just put my own spin on it

you're what's called a "dominant" alpha, it's not anything to do with your role in the bedroom and more the strength of your traits. rut inhibitors and scent blockers have no effect on you while you struggle with interest in typical omegas. but because of the rarity of the condition it wasn't often taught about in schools. trying to find a "dominant" omega on normal dating apps was practically impossible.

that's why you turned to more conservative dating apps. less likely to find people who thought dominant omegas meant strap ons and muzzles and more likely to find people who thought the term dominant omega was a sin. while you don't agree with them an omega is a whole lot easier to reason with.

thats how you met him. he was a beautiful boy with long blue hair and lovely floral dresses. all his pictures were either clearly church pictures or candid shots of him working on a farm. all you really needed to see was the marked off dominant omega trait at this point but him being a cutie was a bonus.

you checked to make sure he was what he said he was and then you two hit it off immediately. he was shy but he used the cutest emojis, lots of hearts and sparkles. you found yourself talking to him every second of every day, completely enamored by the sweetheart he was.

so when you asked if you could finally go on a date in person you were surprised to find your stark differences reared their head. you had to meet his dad before you could go on a date. sure. he's made it no secret that he's a sheltered religious boy. the comment he also added about ensuring his purity was intact was unneeded but you could get past it. he's a good person.

he's a good person who happens to live in the same Happy Homes compound you had just watched a video essay about. you were surprised... and horrified. still as creepy as the place was you were too attached to him at this point to just abandon him here. if he couldn't be convinced to leave that's one thing but you hadn't even tried yet.

his family was warm and welcoming, a few uncomfortable comments and his eldest brother wouldn't stop glaring at you but that's not unique to them. it was a relatively normal farm house surrounded by identical farm houses. what could go wrong?

you had dinner with them and they even invited you to church with them. you knew you weren't about to be convinced to join the cult so you agreed. his father let you borrow some nice clothes and you ended up taking your boyfriend, his mother, and one of his sisters in your car.

the sermon was. boring. nothing uniquely offensive that you wouldn't find in any conservative religious church. the surprising part came with the announcements. the pastor, a beta dressed in white ushered your boyfriend and 4 other omegas onto the stage.

he talked about a plan, a calling each of them had from god. they were each supposed to bring wayward alphas to the church to join them in the house of god. yeah, you could get the gist and before you could even try to stand up one of the other boyfriends did so. he was talking about how this was bullshit and he didn't buy into this crazy crap. and then he collapsed. you watched as 2 others joined him in either death or unconsciousness.

the pastor ushered you onto the stage and your boyfriend's brother dragged you up by the arms. your heart was pounding in your ears and the lights above were glaringly bright. you barely noticed when your boyfriend's arms wrapped around your own.

"and you too shall enter the happiest homes. may god bless you."

you felt your mind go numb and the next thing you knew you were on the floor.

[ckret2]

Chapter 60 of human Bill Cipher almost wasn't the Mystery Shack's prisoner but he's back here for some reason:

Everything you never even imagined about how Bill survived his execution.

(warning for cultists doing cultish activities in this chapter. and i don't mean "fantastical Blind Eye Society hijinks," i mean "discussing how to indoctrinate & isolate new recruits.)

####

"Hiya, Stan!" Bill Cipher beamed brilliantly. His gold tooth matched his new coat. "Didja miss me yet?"

Stan punched Bill in the nose.

Bill tumbled on his back, hand over his face. Voice tight with pain, he said, "Just so you know, I let you do that."

Stan's voice hit a pitch he hadn't been able to reach since puberty. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALIVE!"

Bill sat up gingerly. "Well, funny story—"

"NO! Nuh-uh, I'm finishing you properly this time!" Fists raised, Stan lunged at Bill.

Ford grabbed Stan from behind, one arm around his neck and one hooked up under his armpit. (Bill took the opportunity to scoot backward and get to his feet.) "Stanley! Stand down!"

"YOU!" Stan flung Ford's hands off and whirled around, pointing accusatorially at him. "You gave me your word! Tell me you didn't let Bill out."

"I didn't let Bill out."

Stan grabbed Ford's turtleneck. "Don't you lie to me!"

"I didn't let Bill out!" Ford ripped Stan's hands off his turtleneck. "He was already gone when I went into the kids' room."

"Then who— Who else would've known—"

Stan whirled around at a creak on the stairs. Dipper, halfway down the stairs, jumped when Stan saw him.

"DIPPER!" Stan stormed up to the stairs. "Did you help the demon escape?!"

"What, no!" Dipper took a step back up. "I don't even know how he got out! All I did was not say anything!"

"Well, who's left that could've helped him?!"

"BIIILL!" Mabel barreled down the stairs. "YOU CAME BACK!" She climbed on the stair railing, jumped off, and Bill—who'd crept inside behind Stan—was once more tackled to the ground.

Stan's hands twisted in the air like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to strangle someone, punch something, or pull out his own hair. He finally settled on curling them into fists and shaking them at God. "AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T KNOW THE DEMON'S ALIVE?!"

Soos, still sitting in the living room by himself, staring into space, voice hushed with horror, asked, "So who did I sweep into the flower vase..."

"Okay, family meeting!" Stan pointed at the living room, "Right now! You," he pointed at Bill, "upstairs! I don't wanna look at you and your—your stupid Las Vegas magician sequined coat!"

Bill sat up with a wince and grinned, "Oh, do you like it?" He took off his backpack and checked to see if its contents had been crushed when he was knocked down twice.

"You look like a circus clown!"

"I liked the Vegas magician thing better."

"GO!" Stan pointed up the stairs.

Bill raised his hands, rolling his eye as he started up the stairs. "Fine, fine—"

Stan grabbed Bill's wrist, making him drop his backpack. "STOP!"

"Make up your mind!"

Stan yanked one half of the enchanted friendship bracelets down over Bill's wrist. "You're not getting out again. Not on my watch."

Bill jerked his arm free, shot Stan a dirty look, and stomped up the stairs, umbrella clutched angrily in one hand and backpack in the other. Stan pulled the other half of the bracelet on.

In the living room, Ford, Dipper, and Mabel were lined up shamefacedly on the couch, like three students waiting to be lectured by the principal. Stan glowered at them each, fists on his hips. "Now, I wanna know why my own family all joined in some big secret conspiracy to help Cipher escape! Is it alien mind control?! Did you join a cult?!"

Mabel took a deep breath. "I saved him because he's my friend and I don't want him to die and he really is getting better and you'd all see it if you just gave him a chance to prove it and you just don't understand how he thinks like I do"—she took another breath—"and I promise he won't try to take over the world again just give him a chance!"

Stan's glare melted into something close to guilt. "You're... you're fine, pumpkin. I know you wouldn't have let your friend get hurt." He shot a glare at the other two conspirators. "Which is why we weren't going to tell her."

"Listen," Dipper said, "I still hate him and I don't trust him, but—but I heard part of a poem about Bill that I'm sure is a prophecy; which means he's important, we'll probably need him to save the town or something! So we can't let him die before then! He's already passed up chances to kill us and even saved Grunkle Ford and me, that proves he can restrain himself enough to be useful!" He winced, "Plus... I didn't wanna make Mabel sad. I have seen a future where she loses a friend, and it is not pretty."

Mabel leaned against Dipper. "Thanks, bro-bro."

Stan screwed up his face, but just muttered angrily under his breath about stupid prophecies and stupid life saving, and turned his glare on Ford. "Well? What's your excuse?"

Ford didn't answer, staring down at his hands, grimacing as he searched for an answer.

Stan pressed, "You told me that if you couldn't pull the trigger, you'd give me the gun. Why didn't you?"

"Because I could have pulled it! The situation was different, I—I only changed my mind because he wasn't there. If he had been, I'd have done it—"

"Would you? If you couldn't even tell me that he wasn't dead, do you really think that if he'd been right there, looking you in the eyes, you'd have done it?"

In his mind's eye, Ford could see Bill, hiding under a towel, grinning up at him with one bright eye. And Bill, collapsed beside the lake, shaking all over, sobbing so hard he didn't even notice he was clinging to Ford's stupid borrowed t-shirt like a lifeline. And Bill, staring tiredly across a chess board, telling Ford that the black king was taking the whole board down with him. And Bill, lighting up the room as he taught Ford's niece about his own long-extinct alien civilization.

And Bill, glowing golden, lighting up Ford's dream as he taught him about fifth-dimensional calculus.

Ford didn't answer.

Stan asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Softly, Ford said, "Because I don't want him to die."

Stan spread his arms in disbelief. "Well, why the hell not?!"

"Because—I'm—beginning to think that there might be a chance that Bill could..." he winced, "change. Maybe."

Stan's silence was deafening. Mabel leaned forward to stare around Dipper at Ford.

Ford rubbed his forehead. "I—it made sense yesterday, but it sounds stupid out loud."

Stan slowly shook his head. "Have you all lost your minds? You think he can change? You think he's part of some prophecy?! Y—Mabel, honey, you're the sweetest girl in the world, but you could do way better for friends than him."

Mabel sorta shrugged, sorta shook her head, sorta grimaced, and sorta nodded. "Yeah, but, I like him."

"WHY?!" Stan roared, making Mabel and Dipper both jump. "Why, why are any of you wasting your time on him?! Guys like him don't change! He's a dangerous, self-centered crook, and that's all he'll ever be. He's a rotten, greedy, lazy loser, he's only gotten as far as he has by conning guys smarter than him, he's got no regard for anybody but himself, all he does is cheat and lie, and if you let him stay in our lives he'll just ruin them! The best thing he could do for our family is—" Stan choked on a lump in his throat. "Is d-die."

The room was silent. Dipper and Mabel, leaning back into the sofa to get away from the rant, stared at him with wide eyes. Soos, over in an armchair bearing silent witness to this family drama, had his hands steepled in front of his face.

Stan couldn't look at Ford. He didn't know why Ford looked so sorrowful. Thickly, Stan asked, "All I want is to get rid of him—why don't you?"

He could hear Soos wince. "Oof."

Stan pointed at him. "Not a word. Not one word," he growled. "Fine—if none of you will deal with him properly," he cracked his knuckles, "I will."

Mabel flinched. Dipper moved to stand, "Grunkle Stan—" but stopped when Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

Stan stomped up the stairs. He'd wring that monster's stupid neck, and if it started the apocalypse then so be it—

He stopped halfway up the stairs. Bill was sitting on the steps, just around the landing corner, leaning against the wall, backpack in his lap. His soaked pant legs were dripping rainwater on the steps. "You," Stan snarled. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like, genius? I'm trying to eavesdrop," Bill said. "So what'd they say?"

"What? What did who say about what?"

"About leaving me alive. Why did they say they don't want me dead?"

He asked like he was genuinely curious. Like he didn't know.

Stan stared at Bill.

"I have a good idea for Shooting Star, but the other two...?" Bill made an uncertain gesture with his hand. "I've got my top guesses, but I want to know what clinched the deal."

Stan couldn't kill him, either.

He'd already lost this fight. Pathetic lonely dead con artist who'd rather lose a tooth than look scared, how could Stan take him out? He understood too well. "Just—shut your stupid mouth, take off that stupid circus outfit, and get out of my sight, Cipher."

Bill bristled. "Hey." He stood. "What's that for? It's not like I did anything wrong. Sure, I got your whole family in on a conspiracy, but that's their mistake! I was just doing what I had to! You can't blame me for—"

"I don't blame you," Stan said.

"You d— You don't." Cautiously, Bill asked, "You... don't?"

"How can I?" He shrugged heavily. "It was self-defense. Ford should've known better—but I can't blame you. I'm not an idiot, I don't expect you to just lay down and die for us."

"Oh." Bill squinted at Stan, like he thought this was a trick and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Oh. Okay." After a pause, voice uncharacteristically small and confused, he asked, "So I'm... not in trouble?"

Stan's face did a gymnastics routine. "Heck," he muttered. "No! I guess not! I don't like it, but I'm not gonna punish a guy for saving his own miserable worthless hide! Just... stay out of my way, I don't wanna see your stupid face."

"I'm just minding my own business," Bill said. He sat again and leaned on the wall, arms crossed, staring into space thoughtfully. (He didn't know what to do with a reality where he'd done something everyone hated, but nobody blamed him for it.)

Stan trudged back downstairs. Everyone was where he'd left them. He glowered at his family. They quietly waited. "Well," Stan said. "We're stuck with him now. Since somebody wasted the only bit of fuel we had that could kill him. Is everyone happy."

Nobody seemed particularly happy. Ford shifted on his seat. "Kids... you should go to bed. Stan and I need to talk."

Dipper and Mabel quickly took the opportunity to slide off the sofa and escape the room.

"Oh! Oh you bet we need to talk! You have no idea how much we need to talk—"

"Downstairs," Ford said firmly.

"What, you don't want everyone else to hear exactly what I think of your crazy stunt?"

Ford lowered his voice. "Downstairs where he can't overhear. It's important."

Stan's face twitched with the effort of suppressing more shouting; but then he growled, "Fine! But this had better be worth it. Lemme get my bathrobe, your stupid underground office is like a freezer..." He trudged from the room, grumbling. "Hey, demon! Take off your bracelet, I'm done being tied to your sorry hide." After a moment, the thread reappeared on the stair steps as they both took their ends off.

Dipper glared at Bill as he and Mabel passed him going up the stairs. Bill gave him a tiny, cheery wave. Dipper grumbled, "I can't believe you finally escaped like you wanted just to come right back."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea! Blame your sister!"

Mabel hugged him again. "Thanks for coming back."

Bill said, "Thanks for absorbing Stan's wrath for me!" He laughed.

The kids ran upstairs.

And Bill placed the tip of his broken umbrella on the stair step and quietly walked back down, winding the enchanted bracelets' thread into loops as he went.

####

Soos looked at Ford and shyly raised a hand. "So... when you said the kids should go to bed, did that include..."

"Yes, Soos," Ford said. "You should go too."

"Yes." He quietly pumped a fist. "One of the kids." As he left, he said, "Hey, Bill. Sweet coat."

Ford looked over. Hovering in the shadows of the entryway, almost glowing gold from the living room's light, Bill peered into the room. He was by the coat rack, hanging the bracelets back up. Bill said, "Fancy meeting you here."

Ford sighed irritably. "I'm not in the mood to talk, Cipher."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not down here for you." Bill gestured at the sofa Ford was on. "I want my bed back."

Right. Ford stood so Bill could retrieve the cushions.

As he grabbed the first cushion, Bill smirked at Ford. "So..." (Not here for you. Sure.) "What was it that swayed you?"

Ford just glowered at Bill.

Bill pressed, "Was it that handy list of starter spells I gave you? I doubt it was my chess prowess, that wasn't my best playing." He laughed, "What am I asking for! You humans are suckers for a life debt. You can consider it paid off—a life for a life, fair and square—"

"It wasn't any of those."

Bill's smile disappeared. "Then what?" he asked. "Don't tell me you did it out of the goodness of your heart, I've seen enough of yours not to buy that—"

"It was Mabel."

Bill dropped his first cushion on top of the second and awkwardly tried to get his arms around both. "What'd she say about me?"

"Nothing." Nothing that had changed Ford's mind, anyway. "It's how you treat her."

"How I—?" Bill was so baffled that he almost looked offended. "What are you talking about? I haven't been treating her any way at all! I'm just... just goofing around with her. She's a fun kid."

"Exactly," Ford said. "If you can treat just one odd little girl with kindness, for no reason—then maybe, just maybe, there's hope for you." He sighed; he felt the sternness in his face slacken. He felt tired. "At least... I want to hope there is."

There was a flash of something Ford couldn't recognize in Bill's face. Something like pain; something nearly like guilt. It was gone almost as soon as he saw it.

"Well, sure," Bill said flatly, glancing away like Ford had lost his interest. "Why wouldn't I be nice to her? I like weird freaks." He managed to stand with his awkward armload and turned away, cutting the conversation off. "Anyway. It's been a long night. I'm going to bed. You should too," he shot back over his shoulder from the bottom of the stairs, "when's the last time you got decent sleep? Your eye bags are more... bag than... eye." Bill cringed at himself. "Don— Don't say anything. I'm tired." He headed up the stairs, his umbrella hooked over his left elbow. They'd have to get that umbrella back.

Tomorrow. Ford couldn't be bothered tonight. Bill wasn't killing anybody before morning.

Ford leaned on the doorframe where he could still see Bill. "I hid your hoodie in the box of spare bedding in the loft. Under the spare pillows."

Bill stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back toward Ford. "You didn't incinerate it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I assumed you'd be back here eventually. I thought you'd want it."

Bill's face was unreadable.

He turned away from Ford and continued upstairs without saying a word.

Mabel's crayon drawing of Bill—"YOU CAN CHANGE. I BELIEVE IN YOU!"—felt like it was burning a hole in Ford's pocket.

####

Saturday, 7:52 a.m.

Bill stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar and timed his exit so he walked out of the Triple Digit Truck Stop just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

Gravity Falls really was a charming little town. Behind the times. The Triple Digit Truck Stop had expanded significantly in the past decades to add a convenience store and additional amenities for travelers, but the diner that made up the heart of it had barely changed. Same patchy grassy parking lot, same giant lumberjack sculpture watching over the cars... same public pay phones around the left side of the building.

He put in a few coins, punched in the number he'd memorized, and leaned against the wall while he waited to be answered. "Hey, Sue! Guess who?" A smile curled across his face. "That's right. Hey, how many people can say they've been personally called by god?" He laughed. "My Star Boy told you what preparations to make, right? Good. It's time. Midnight. Just north of the county line. I'll see you there."

Then he hung up the phone, left the clearing around the diner, and vanished into the trees.

Unless something dramatically changed, he'd be meeting his dear devotee that night.

####

9:30 p.m.

Something had dramatically changed.

His disloyal devotee had saved him.

It was a long walk to the county line. If Bill wanted to make his midnight meeting with his cultist, he had to leave before sunset.

He was still up on the cliff when the last of the light left the valley, pacing restlessly back and forth—first toward the side of the cliff overlooking the town (he could see the Mystery Shack's roof through the trees), then toward the side aimed away from the valley, toward the county line.

He should go. He needed to go. He needed to go now. He needed to go two hours ago.

He'd spent three out of the last four days hiking all over this town's forests and caves. In the last thirty-six hours he'd barely gotten a quick nap. (In the morning, when Mabel heard that Ford had covered for Bill, she'd come straight here.) He told himself he didn't have the energy for the hike to the county line. (What if Mabel got here and couldn't find him?)

If he didn't show up tonight, surely his cultist would try again tomorrow night. He'd go tomorrow.

It was fine. Everything would work out for him. Everything always worked out for him.

####

Sunday, 4:10 p.m.

He'd been right. Mabel had come straight here. As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched her wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth? Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Interesting question.

####

8:30 p.m.

It was a long walk to the county line. Bill packed his supplies—he didn't have that much to pack, he'd only ever needed enough food and shelter to last him a couple of days. He flung one backpack over each shoulder, closed and concealed the alien ship fragment, and shrunk his floating platform with the height-altering flashlight so he could wrap it in a shirt and stuff it in his second backpack.

And then, under the cover of the rain and the falling night, he began the hike north.

####

10:45 p.m.

Even to Bill's eyes, the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls was typically invisible. He could only see it where something touched it or passed through it, making waves travel out in circles from the point of contact. The circles glowed a dull coppery color at their peaks. Tonight, with the rain falling, the barrier rippled as though the rain were falling on the surface of a lake, and the whole thing glowed a faint filmy orange.

Precisely in the middle of the barrier was a sign marking the border of Roadkill County.

Ten feet beyond the barrier, just off the edge of the road, headlights and engine off and lurking beneath the trees, was a black car.

Bill walked straight through the weirdness barrier as though it wasn't even there. He didn't feel a thing.

The car engine started and the headlights turned on. Bill didn't even blink. The driver's door flew open and Sue popped out, fumbling to open an umbrella as she did. "Bill Cipher?"

"Hiya, Sue! You made it early."

"Oh, thank goodness." She hurried up to him. "I was so worried—I didn't know if I'd come to the wrong place, or if something had happened... And when I didn't hear anything from you the next day, and Gideon didn't know anything..." (Great, she'd gotten Gideon involved?) She started to offer Bill her umbrella, realized he was already holding a closed umbrella as a cane, looked up as she registered that no rain was falling on him, then stared at him in wonder.

"Yeah, sorry about that—an unavoidable emergency came up, I couldn't get out and couldn't call." And he'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep. "But look at you, loyal enough to come try again the next night! You're a rare sort of human soul, you know that? This world could use more people like you."

Sue flushed with pleasure. "Oh... thank you, I..."

Bill tilted his head toward the car. "Let's not talk out in the rain, huh? Another car's coming by in about a minute, I think we shouldn't be seen."

"Right! Of course, my lord." She hurried back to the car.

"There's a terrific diner just a few minutes up the road. We can talk there, it's safe enough. Cute decor, too—have you ever seen a twenty foot tall lumberjack...?" He paused uncertainly by the car. "Hey, Sue? This'll sound silly—but I'm gonna need you to get the passenger door."

The car's interior lights flashed on as Sue opened the passenger door, long enough to catch the glittery purple nail polish on Bill's fingers. Sue gave it a curious look. Even though they'd just gotten painted three days ago, the polish was already scuffed again from his escape; but a few tiny flower stickers were still sticking to his nails.

Bill grinned. "There's a thirteen-year-old staying in the shack. Sweetest thing. She's a real artist."

"Oh! I see." A smile stretched across Sue's face. Bill suspected it wasn't for Mabel. That's right, your god's good with children. He lets little girls give him goofy manicures and proudly shows them off. Chicks dig that kind of thing.

When they were both buckled in, Sue hesitated, holding the steering wheel. "Lord Cipher... I wanted to say... if my... actions the last time we met were out of line in any way, I want to apologize—"

Bill placed a finger under her chin, turned her face toward him, and kissed her lightly. (He was so smooth. He mentally congratulated himself.) "Sorry if you got confused. I had to keep the outsider from getting suspicious, get it?"

She sucked in a small breath. "I... yes. Yes, of course."

"Don't trust anything I say or do when unbelievers are listening. The only time you can be sure I'm telling the truth..." his voice dropped to a near whisper, "is when we're alone."

He could see the goosebumps raise on her arms. "Yes, my lord."

He was so good—and his worshipers were so, so stupid. That was why they followed him. "Now, let's get to that diner, huh?"

As they got on the road, he studied his nails; to a normal human it was too dark to see, but to Bill's eyes they still glittered bright purple. The question Mabel had asked him earlier had been playing over and over in his mind all afternoon: Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Naive, trusting kid.

She really thought she was his best option.

######

"... And then, as if directly launching a psychic attack on my ethereal essence and forcing me into a mortal fleshly form wasn't bad enough," Bill said, "they imprisoned me! And get this: just to rub salt in the wound, they thought it would be funny to take a divine muse who's spent an eternity helping mortals build doorways between dimensions—and curse it so it can't open doors. I have to ask my kidnappers to open the fridge for me. Have you ever heard something so condescending?"

"Insane. That's just sadistic," Sue said. "After all you tried to do for them."

"You don't know what a comfort it is to hear a human say that."

They fell silent as someone approached. A waitress stopped next to their table. "Hey, I—Goldie!"

"Dani Miranda! Hey, how's it going! I see you found the treasure map I left you."

Dani was wearing two large gold earrings, two heavy gold necklaces each with a large gem-encrusted pendant, and four rings. "Yes, oh my gosh. I cannot believe you knew where a whole treasure chest was and you just gave it to me? That's the nicest thing ever?"

That's right, it was. "What are you doing working here! You can retire on that kind of money. Unless you want to rebury all that gold yourself?" He'd respect that.

"I'm still getting it appraised. Besides, I like talking to the late night travelers."

Bill ordered a strawberry banana shake, the monthly pancake special—which meant three quarters of the pile covered in stripes of strawberry sauce and cream cheese frosting and one quarter covered in a big puddle of blueberry sauce—floppy bacon, three eggs prepared "any way except scrambled," a cup of bleu cheese dressing, a cup of salsa, and a bottle of hot sauce. Sue ordered a water and a small grilled chicken salad.

(Bill tried to remember whether the Death Valley girls were one of his "purify the flesh by practicing harsh asceticism" cults or his "hedonistically revel in the pleasures of the senses" cults, in case he needed to make up a justification for why god was ordering pancakes instead of practicing what he preached—something something a human body containing a divine soul burns through much more energy, maybe—but no, he had the Death Valley girls on psychedelics, that was a hedonism cult. He kept them controlled through drugs, exhaustion, and poor air conditioning, not starvation. Small grilled chicken salad, indeed. The only thing stronger than cult brainwashing was diet industry brainwashing.)

When Dani was safely out of earshot, Sue lowered her voice and asked, "'Goldie'?"

"My captors decided to keep my identity secret so an angry mob won't execute me before they get the chance," Bill said. "The entire town's against the All-Seeing Eye named Bill; but only a handful know there's anything unusual about the handsome human in the Mystery Shack they've been calling Goldie."

She looked taken aback at the angry mob comment. "The entire town's against you?" Her gaze roved around the Triple Digit Truck Stop, taking in a lone trucker several tables away and a bored waiter scrolling on his phone behind the counter. "Is there anyone we can trust?"

"Gideon's on our side, of course—good kid—but, well... he isn't completely reliable. You know what happens with child celebrities. The fame and fortune spoils 'em a bit."

"I never would have guessed from his television appearances. He seems so... gracious."

Bill choked back a laugh. "He'll grow up all right—he's just going through a phase. But I'd rather not trust him with more involvement than necessary until he... matures a little."

"I understand." Sue sighed. "It's too bad the dawn of the new age didn't begin closer to us, where we could have assisted your work."

She didn't have the guts to question her god, but Bill heard the implicit question: why here? Why in some tiny tourist town that didn't even like tourists, buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere, amongst the ignorant ungrateful masses? "Yeah—too bad," Bill agreed with a shrug. "But hey, I didn't choose where the veil between worlds would be thinnest! There's energy in this town like nowhere else on your planet. It's the only place where a machine built with modern human technology is strong enough to punch through dimensions—and that's with the help of extraterrestrial equipment."

Besides, he didn't like Death Valley.

Dani returned from the kitchen. "One chicken salad, and one breakfast combo with the pancakes of the month."

"Great! I'm starving." Bill picked up the little plastic cup of salsa and dumped it into his shake. Sue choked on her water.

Dani's brows shot up. "Is—is that good?"

"What can I say, I've got the palate of an alien." (Sue choked on the sip she'd taken to recover from her first sip of water.) Bill poured the bleu cheese over his eggs, then started drizzling hot sauce on his pancakes. "Anyway, it keeps people from stealing my food."

"I guess so!" Dani laughed. She hovered near their table a little too long; and then she said, "Okay, I've got to ask: how did you know where to find buried treasure? I mean...!"

"I know lots of things." He fought down a smirk. "I happen to be psychic."

"No way." But she looked curious. She wanted to believe.

Bill had had a hunch that giving her that treasure would pay off. Nice to know his understanding of human nature was still sharp, even when he couldn't double-check the far future to see how his meddling would turn out. "If I wasn't psychic, would I have known your last name? Or where that treasure chest was?" he asked. "Or that you keep three pictures of tarantulas and a Canadian twenty in your wallet? Or that you have recurring dreams of trying to hide in sewer manholes from a fire-breathing dragon?" While he waited for her to process that, he triumphantly dug into his pancakes. He had a feeling he wouldn't be eating much more before his food got cold.

Dani's smile had disappeared. The blood drained from her face. "How...?"

"I'm... let's say, connected to a higher plain. I can see dimensions most humans can't."

"It's true," Sue piped up. (Bill took the opportunity to dig into an egg. Oh, the bleu cheese was a great choice.) "The insights h—she's offered me and so many others have been... life-changing. World-changing." Good girl.

"Insights?" Dani asked weakly.

Bill shrugged modestly. "You could call me a 'spiritual teacher,' I suppose, but that makes it sound like I'm preaching some kind of religion! All I do is teach people what I know and tell people what I see if I think it'll help 'em. Like if I see a bunch of buried gold that could change the life of a nice kid working minimum wage."

Dani reflexively touched one of her necklaces.

"You didn't think going to parties in togas was my full-time job, did you?" Bill laughed.

Dani laughed feebly too. She hadn't moved away. She was closer now, her thigh leaning against the edge of the table. "That's... wow. I've never met an actual psychic before. I mean—I went to one of Lil Gideon's live shows, but that was before the big scandal and his arrest."

"You hate to see a pillar of the community go down like that, don't you?"

"What..." Dani swallowed hard, lowered her voice, and asked, "What kinds of things does a psychic 'teach'?"

Got her. "It depends! Everyone's got different lessons they need to learn, right?" He slid out of his seat, nodded toward Sue, and said, "Excuse me ladies—I'd love to elaborate, but I'm afraid I need to hit the restroom. Sue, why don't you tell her what you've learned about, give her a concrete idea of what I do."

"It would be my honor."

As Bill passed Sue, he leaned over and whispered, "Don't mention triangles." And then he got out of her way, to let Sue do what his Death Valley girls did best.

####

When he returned to his seat, Sue leaned over the table and murmured, "I got her phone number and email."

"Good work. I bet she'd be an easy recruit."

"I bet. She's already asking how much lessons cost."

"What'd you say?"

"You offer your help to others for free, but cover your living expenses and travel costs with donations."

"Attagirl." It had been easier to use that line when he was a triangle—of course our great mentor and muse doesn't need money, he's above such earthly concerns; his mortal devotees who spread his word, though, subsist on donations... It was better for his image. They'd just have to modify their fundraising pitch for a while. "This is exactly what I hoped would happen when I invited you to this diner. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Sue's face. "I'll follow up with her by phone. It's a pity we don't have enough time to really put the pressure on her in person."

"Why not? I bet we'd win her over in less than a week."

"I've already contacted the main compound in Death Valley. We've got plane tickets for first thing in the morning."

(Bill's blood ran cold. Somehow, it hadn't dawned on him until that moment that escaping Gravity Falls meant leaving Gravity Falls.)

"I have a motel room a few towns over, it was the closest I could find to Gravity Falls," Sue went on. "It's a straight shot to the Portland airport in the morning. Everyone's so excited—"

"Hold on," Bill said, figuring out what he was about to say next as he went. "There's been a last minute change of plans. I'm staying in Gravity Falls."

Sue stared at him. "But—my lord! You're a prisoner here, why wouldn't you come home to the people who love you?"

Love you, love you, love you. The word love alone was nearly enough to make him change his mind again. How he missed being revered. He could picture them now, these zealots who adored him so much they'd willingly bend their bodies into a throne to lift him up—and he didn't even need to turn them to stone first. It would be so easy to get away from all his human enemies forever...

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?

He shook his head. "Two reasons," he said. "One: no matter what, eventually I'll have to come back. The Age of the Triangle can only dawn in Gravity Falls. Staying makes it that much easier to get things started again. And two... I'm—working on a couple of potential recruits." He was? Wow. He was impressed at himself.

"You mean Gideon, or...?"

"No, others. One's the girl who helped me escape." He drummed his fingers on the table, calling attention to his purple fingernails. "She's a good kid. Lots of potential. Could be a real leader someday—she's a natural fit for our new world. She's got a few strings, but I'm working on helping her untie 'em."

Strings was a term that Mary, the leader of the Death Valley compound, had come up with and spread to the other girls: it meant petty mortal concerns that could tangle and tie you up, dragging you away from pursuing true spiritual growth and preparing for a better, liberated world. Your childhood religious beliefs were a string. The misguided ideas about morality you learned from the secular world were a string. Your job was a string. Your spouse was a string. Your family was a lot of strings. The intervention where your friends sat you down and told you they were worried about how much you'd changed lately and they were afraid you'd joined some kind of cult was a string. You had to cut them all.

And then Bill could tie on his puppet strings in their place.

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen. Fourteen at the end of the summer."

"Oh, wow—younger than I thought. That's great, kids are more open-minded," Sue said. "Though if she decides to join, it'll be hard to get her away from her family without a kidnapping charge..."

"Ugh, you don't need to remind me. I remember how we almost lost Karen and Jennifer. The legal system in this country is a mess." Bill had needed to torture that divorce court judge with nightmares for weeks before he caved and awarded Jennifer's mother sole custody so they could move to the Death Valley compound together. "But hey, got some good news: the other potential recruit. You remember the 'ex-cultist' who gave you gals my location. He turned on the humans who are pushing to execute me. He's almost back on our side. And he just so happens to be the girl's great-uncle. The family trusts him. If we can get 'em to pass her to him as her guardian, then she's ours. We can work out how to get her to the compound later." That was a lie. Bill was never handing Mabel to the Death Valley girls. She was better than them.

Sue looked less enthusiastic for this ex-cultist than she had for the girl. "Is he one of your captors...?"

Bill waved off her concerns, frowning. "Look. He's obviously been corrupted by the outside world. I lost contact with him for thirty years and he came back with more strings than a mop head. But I don't think he's beyond purification. He's already shown major improvement, now that he's once again under the shining light of my influence."

"But, this town..." Sue shook her head doubtfully. "Cipher, my lord, they nearly killed you once. You'd risk staying just to try to recruit two people? One who's already betrayed you—?"

"Yes!" Bill snapped. Sue flinched. "They're worth it." (He didn't question his own vehemence, his own anger at their value being doubted. He rarely questioned himself. If he asked questions, he might get answers.) "Don't you dare let this face fool you—I'm still your all-seeing god and I know what I'm doing better than you do. These two are perfect. The Age of the Triangle needs them. The traitor will repent. He WILL worship me again."

Sue stared at him with wide eyes; for a split second her breath froze in fear. She gave him a tiny nod. "Of course, my lord. My apologies."

Dani appeared at their table again. "Hey, how was everything?"

And Bill was immediately all good cheer. "Terrific, thanks!"

"Great!"

As Sue reached for her wallet, Dani waved her off. "Oh, don't worry about it—it's on the house." She winked. "I think I can afford to cover it."

Already making donations to the cause. Pretty soon all the profits from her treasure chest would be in one of Bill's bank accounts.

As they headed back out into the rain, Sue said, "So, we're staying in town at least long enough to pick up another three recruits?"

"Maybe four," Bill said. "There's another kid in town I think needs some help finding a direction."

"Another? Is this one old enough to leave home alone?"

"Not for a couple more years—but she's dying to get out just as fast as she can," Bill said. "I think you can handle her."

####

They parked just up the road from the Mystery Shack and turned the headlights off.

"Here's everything Gideon said you wanted," Sue said, handing over a paper bag. "Candles, matchbook, knife, pens, spare notebooks, five thousand dollars, a burner phone, new clothes..."

Bill pulled out a flashy golden sequin-covered coat. "Oooh!" He dug around until he also found a button-up shirt and a pair of black opera gloves. He shrugged on the shirt.

"That's... what Gideon said you requested, right?" Sue eyed the tacky, gaudy coat uncertainly.

"As long as I'm in this body, I don't have the benefit of showing up glowing in people's dreams when I have something they need to hear! I need to make them pay attention any way I can." Also, normal people had boring tastes and sequins were fantastic. He buttoned up the shirt.

"I also brought—I—thought you might want..." She held out a large pendant on a thin chain. It was an eye inscribed inside a triangle inscribed inside a circle; rays radiated out from the eye, as though it were the sun. Bill's heart leaped into his throat at the sight of it.

He realized this was the first time since his death that he'd seen his own face in any form other than a thirteen-year-old's artwork—and his own corpse. His face was ubiquitous on this planet; it was plastered on everything from money to buildings to common consumer goods. Its conspicuous absence in Gravity Falls was uncanny.

"I'm not sure if it's inappropriate—"

"It's perfect." Bill snatched the necklace from her and fiddled with the clasp until he got it on. "Exactly what I need. What did I always say about your intuition?" He considered the gloves, decided he wasn't ready to pull them on quite yet, and shrugged on the coat instead.

She restrained a pleased smile at the flattery. "Thank you, my lord."

She looked out the windshield. Just up the road was a flock of wooden signs and arrows pointing which way to turn to reach the Mystery Shack. Bill wondered whether Sue's eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that she could see their silhouettes. Sue said, "If you're not coming back to us yet, then I suppose it's time to..."

"Hold on a minute," Bill said. "You've been a bigger help tonight than you know. If it weren't for your loyalty and diligence, I wouldn't have been able to consider escaping." Blah blah blah. The truth was he'd been soaking in her reverence for the past hour and a half, like a dehydrated cactus under a cloudburst, and he wasn't leaving until he'd sucked every drop from her. "There isn't a lot I can do for you right now, trapped in this form, but you deserve a reward." He leaned toward her, his elbow against her car seat, hand on the headrest. "Let me express my gratitude the way I would have if we hadn't been interrupted during our last meeting." He tilted his head toward the back seat.

She froze as she processed the offer; and then she leaned in to kiss him hungrily.

####

"The tide's changing in this town," Bill said, pulling on his gloves, smoothing his hair back into place, putting his new coat back on. "The dawn is coming. You should stay in town now that our enemies are losing their teeth."

"Yes, Lord Cipher," she said breathlessly, still trying to get her wits about her.

(From what Bill had eavesdropped between her and Dani while he was pretending to be in the restroom, he was right that she'd been one of his "dissatisfied housewife" converts. This was probably the first time she'd ever been touched by somebody who understood anatomy. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to return the favor. But he'd been touched by reverent hands, he'd tasted tears, he'd heard a voice whine "Bill, my god, my god, my god—" That would have to hold him for a while.)

"And ditch the rental. Buy a used car," Bill said. "There's a place in town called Gleeful Auto Sales. Ask Bud for the best car on the lot, pay whatever he asks—and tell him Mr. Locke sent you."

"'Gleeful' as in...?"

"His father. My Star Boy was the only person in town who supported me—and the town's turned on his family for it. They could use our help."

Sue pursed her lips in displeasure. "Of course."

Bill gestured toward his door. "I think we've put this off long enough."

While he waited for her to get his door, he slung his two backpacks over each shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "'Coffee break's over; back on your heads.'"

Sue opened the door; he picked up his umbrella and stepped out into the rain.

As he walked back to his prison, he tucked his necklace beneath his shirt.

Bill reminded himself that he didn't have anything to be afraid of. Ford had thrown away the one shot that could have killed him. He was safe.

####

1:20 a.m.

As Stan followed Ford into his underground study, he shot a glance at the barren far end of the room. He grumbled, "Nice to see you haven't started putting triangle posters back up."

"I'm not..." Ford sighed in irritation. "Never mind."

"So what's so important that you had to drag me down to your nerd cave? If this isn't good—"

"I didn't waste our shot."

"What?"

At his metal worktable, Ford unlatched the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case and opened it. "You said I wasted the only fuel we had. I didn't." He detached the NowUSeeitNowUDontium's fuel tank and held it out. The needle on the side indicated it was about a quarter full—nowhere near its full capacity, but enough for one shot, and just as much as they'd brought home from Fiddleford's.

Stan gaped. "But... hold on—we saw that shot through the walls. How the heck did you fake...?"

"Before he started developing a process to generate Dontium, Fiddleford came up with a power adaptor that could plug into the town's electricity." Ford picked up the power cord wound up in the carrying case. "He determined that it only gave the Destabilizer enough power to operate like a laser, not destroy matter and energy, so we still needed to develop the Dontium... but, I still had the cord on hand."

####

Saturday, 12:07 p.m.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

He slid out its fuel tank, returned it to the case, and pulled out the cord.

He climbed down to the bedroom; unplugged the room's air conditioning unit from its dedicated higher voltage wall socket; and plugged in the Quantum Destabilizer's cord.

In the loft, trying to figure out how to plug the other end of the cord into the Quantum Destabilizer, he was suddenly struck by the hair-raising feeling that someone was watching him. He whipped around; the eye on Bill's hood stared at him resentfully.

Ford stared back at it a moment; then he stood, pulled the hoodie off the dummy, and stuffed it into a nearby box.

He knelt. He plugged in the cable. He carefully lined up the shot with the dummy.

He fired.

####

12:09 p.m.

The atmosphere abruptly grew eerily quiet and still as the unplugged air conditioning unit fell silent. There was a shrill, whistling shriek and a blast of blue-white light so brilliant it pierced the cracks of the wooden boards in the attic bedroom's walls.

Every light in the house went out as the Quantum Destabilizer's power adapter drained every drop of electricity in town.

####

12:10 p.m.

The air was hot, stagnant, and stuffy. There was a pile of ashes three feet in front of Ford's knees.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done:

The Quantum Destabilizer, at full power, completely destroyed all matter and energy.

It didn't leave behind ashes.

####

Monday, 1:23 a.m.

Ford said, "Bill left a letter in the attic asking me to help cover his getaway. If I didn't fire the gun, Bill would have known I'd told you he escaped. But if he could see the Quantum Destabilizer firing, he'd think I'd chosen his side. The only way to lure him back to the shack was by making him think I'd used up the only substance we have that could destroy him." He muttered, "Granted, I'd assumed he'd try to contact me secretly rather than knock on the door in the middle of the night, but..."

Stan gaped at Ford. Then he burst into loud laughter. "Sixer, you tricky sonova! I don't believe it!" He socked his arm. "I oughta retire from the conning business and hand it over to you!"

A smile slowly crept up Ford's face.

Stan pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the elevator. "So we can go up there and finish him off now, right? Just wait for him to fall asleep, and...?"

Ford's smile disappeared. "No."

"N—What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I..." He took a deep breath as he chose his words. "I was serious, earlier, when I... said I want to give him a chance."

"Wh—? Still? Ford, come on, you can't think he deserves it?"

"No. Of course not. Not even close." Ford didn't hesitate. "But... does he need to deserve a chance to get one? I wonder if maybe Mabel's on to something. If he could be better, he can't show us unless we give him the second chance—before he's earned it." He sounded like a lunatic. "He can't earn it if he's dead."

Stan looked for a moment like he wanted to argue; and then something painful flashed through his eyes; and then he looked away from Ford, scowling to himself as he thought. He sighed heavily. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. Darn it, I don't wanna do it either. The creep's actually starting to grow on me. Like some kind of foot fungus."

Ford huffed. "What's important is, if we give him a chance and he throws it away, I haven't left us unarmed." He gestured to the unplugged fuel tank.

Stan looked at the tank; then looked at Ford. "You could've told us about the power cord trick yesterday, and you didn't." Stan crossed his arms. "Be honest. Do you really think, if it came down to it, you'd be able to pull the trigger now?"

"No." And again Ford didn't hesitate. "I want to believe I could; but I... don't trust myself. Yesterday morning, I never would have thought I'd decide against executing him for any reason. I know Bill's playing games with me, and yet I'm still playing along—so what else might I do?" He shrugged helplessly. He hated that Bill could still take control of his mind—even when he couldn't physically get inside it. "To some extent, he's gotten into all our heads."

Stan grimaced, but he didn't argue.

"That's why I think Fiddleford should keep the Quantum Destabilizer. He's never been taken in by Bill's tricks. If it becomes necessary, he won't hesitate."

"You know the situation's bad when Old Man McGucket's the voice of reason," Stan muttered. "But, I like that idea.  We can drop it off with him in the morning."

Ford sighed. "He's probably spent the last two days thinking Bill's dead. He won't be happy to see us."

As they walked back to the elevator, Stan said, "Maybe leaving Bill alive isn't an end-of-the-world bad idea. How much trouble can he get in when he can't escape that magic barrier around town?"

"That's true," Ford said. "He's essentially harmless—at least to the rest of the universe."

Ford didn't have anything to be afraid of. Bill was trapped in the weirdness barrier; and he couldn't even leave the shack without help. They were safe.

####

As fancy as his new coat looked, Bill was was grateful to crawl back into the comfortingly formless body-obscuring shelter of his hoodie. He pulled his hood over his face, curled up on his usual cushions (sigh) in his usual spot (sigh), and quickly fell asleep.

And began to dream.

And, in his dream, saw through his nearby eyes.

In his sleep, he could see the attic from where he lay on his cushions. He sat up, realized his vision was crooked, straightened out his hood, and stood; and he began sleepwalking.

He crept silently downstairs. He walked backwards into the gift shop. He walked up to a spinning rack of keychains that Soos had set up on the display case, took off his necklace, and hung it from one of the hooks.

He pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof.

Bill was very good at lying. Bill was very good at lying to himself. No, that wasn't true—Bill had never lied to himself in his life, and he was willing to kill anyone who tried to say he had. Bill didn't tell himself lies; he told himself what should be the truth. Believing in a new reality was the first step toward making it real. All you had to do was lie until you weren't lying anymore—and then, you'd never lied at all. It was very simple.

He'd spent billions of years swimming in and out of dreams, until he was more comfortable with how reality worked in dreams than he was with how reality worked in actual reality; and there was no other state of existence where the line between truth and lie was blurriest. Unlike the physical world, where altering reality tended to require a little more actual work, in a dream, lying until it came true really was as simple as thinking about your new truth.

That was all it took. One bright, lucid thought to shine order through the confused fog of the subconscious.

Bill was getting good at lucid dreaming.

Bill was dreaming now.

A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy called the trap doors in the ceiling "roof lids."

No, that wasn't true. A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy call the roof lids "roof lids," because that was what they were. Bill couldn't open doors, didn't have the first idea of what to do with a door, but he could open lids. Jar lids. Pot lids. Toilet lids. He'd practiced with toilet lids—they had hinges, that made them the most similar to roof lids. If he could open all those lids, he could open these lids.

As he stared, the trap doors changed, in the way that dream images had of swimming and shifting dizzily before your eyes, into roof lids.

He climbed the ladder, pushed up the roof lid, climbed through; and then opened the second one that led onto the roof. He moved so silently. The rickety rungs and old wooden boards didn't even creak beneath his footsteps. He climbed out, sleepwalked his way to the roof hangout spot, and jumped off the roof.

He descended, slow as a feather, to land lightly on the ground, as though gravity hardly touched him.

Almost a month ago, on his birthday, Stan had taken off his gold chain and chucked it off into the forest so he could put on his birthday gift instead. Bill had watched enviously from the window. Now, triumphantly, he scooped up the long-coveted chain and wrapped it several times around his wrist.

And then he went to the tree where he'd hung up his second backpack full of contraband and retrieved it.

There were several pine trees right next to the shack. As near-weightless as Bill was in his dream, it was easy for him to climb one of the trees and get back on the roof.

In the gift shop, the vending machine swung open as Stan and Ford returned to the house level. They went into the living room, heading toward bed. The All-Seeing Eye hanging on the keychain rack watched as the door swung shut behind them. After waiting a few more seconds to ensure they were gone, Bill slid down onto the ladder, shut the roof lid, and jumped noiselessly to the floor. He retrieved his necklace from the keychain rack.

This was a vending machine. It wasn't a door. It clearly wasn't a door. Bill punched in the vending machine's code and stepped back as it swung aside for him. He crept down the stairs.

This was an elevator. The elevator had doors, and he didn't know how to open them, but he wasn't worrying about those. The doors would sort themselves out somehow. All he cared about was the elevator. He was NOT trying to open the doors. He wasn't even thinking about opening the doors. He pushed the button to call the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open. See, just like he'd thought: the doors took care of themselves.

He pushed the button for the lowest floor. The doors slid shut.

As he rode down, he wove his new necklace's thin chain between the links of Stan's much thicker chain. Oh yeah. That looked much better. 

The doors opened again into the interdimensional portal's control room.

He put on his necklace and stepped out. It was about time he made it back here. Bill really should have taken more time to check this place out at the start of summer. Why had he been in such a rush to kill the Pines? He'd had time travel. He could have rebuilt the entire portal by himself, won the lotto in Texas, spent a week in a seven star hotel, watched the Titanic sink, become President Trembley's First Lady, gotten Mysterious Mo's autograph, planted a NASA rocket in an Aztec temple just to give those ancient alien morons an undeserved but funny win, and then come back to finish the job.

Well, hindsight, whatever. At least he had a list of things to do if he ever got his hands on that time tape again. Anyway, he was back now.

He didn't think he'd need to be asleep to get back into the gift shop, and he probably needed his full brain turned on for the task ahead. He pulled his hood off, opened his eyes, and woke up.

The world looked so much less malleable.

He fished a notebook and red and black pens from his backpack, picked his way through the rubble of the portal, and began taking notes in Plaintext on how many parts were salvageable. Every few minutes, he flipped a page forward to begin work on blueprints for a new portal.

####

(And that concludes... season 1. idk out of how many seasons, but it sure feels like a season finale, don't it?

Next week's The Book Of Bill y'all! I'll be posting a chapter, but which chapter depends on TBOB. If TBOB is either compatible with the backstory I've got for Bill, or so wildly incompatible that there's no way I can reconcile my backstory so don't bother trying, I'll be posting a flashback chapter! But if TBOB is compatible enough that i MIGHT be able to reconcile it with my backstory with a lot of editing, I'll be posting the first chapter of "season 2" to give me time to edit the flashback. We'll find out next Tuesday!

In the meantime, a whole lot happened in this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think—about this chapter, about everything that's happened so far, about what's coming up, whatever!)

[mentos-or-mentoes]

Headcanons! Cult of the lamb

Leshy, Heket, Shamura, Kallamar, Narinder and The lamb.

General:

(this will be in follower form for the bishops)

Leshy

Dude is definetly not happy upon being indoctrinated into the cult.

Like first he gets killed by the lamb and NOW he has to follow their commands? Yeah to say the least he might be a bit annoyed at first.

When you first introduce yourself, he might be a little skeptical mainly because he was a bishop so what were you gonna do? Make fun of him? Pull a ''prank'' Just because you could?

Surprisingly, no! You were kind, just trying to get to know him better, and trying to get him to know the cult a little better.

He is forever greatful if you help him around the place.

Romantic:

If Leshy smells anything he thinks is something like a flower, then he might try and guide you towards them.

Mainly because it might be difficult picking them, when he cant see where the hell he's going.

9.5 / 10 hugs and you cant convince me otherwise.

He might be a bit moist because of all the stuff growing on him but he definetly smells nice. (or atleast i headcanon it as such).

He can and will be a living scarf if he REALLY craves your attention.

He will just snuggling up to you in the middle of whatever you were doing.

Heket

General:

Heket was not the happiest when she awoke in the lambs cult to say the least.

Allthough she was hungry, (cant blame her tbh).

When you approached her and offered her a couple of berries as a little welcome gift you definetly became one of her favorites.

She probably didn't even want to try and care for someone that isn't her siblings, at this point.

She especially appreceates if you basically speak for her, mainly because you can get to the point (and the words) alot faster then her.

Heket will do absolutely anything to avoid you or anyone else finding out anything that embarrases her that isnt known, like her losing to the lamb.

She enjoys all meals with either you or her siblings.

Romantic:

If you pick her up in front of others for no reason you are getting the frog equivilent of a bitch slap.

She does still have a reputation to uphold to prevent the followers from being too cruel even as a member of the cult.

Okay but seriously, Heket is basically your knight in shining armor.

Someones bothering you? just tell Heket, and she will take care of it.

She loves it when you bring her snakcs while waiting for a meal to be done whenever you cook.

Can and will pass you notes of what she wants you to say to someone, if she's really annoyed bcause of something they did.

Might be dissapointed if you rephrase it, to not be as rude as what she wrote.

Shamura

General:

Them always seeking knowledge was definetly one of the things that allowed you to bond with them quickly.

You telling them about things they might find interesting, and them sharing some of the things they remember.

Shamura likes it when you remind them of small things they might forget.

They also like sharing stories of their past with you, or giving you small gifts.

Not that they cant defend themselves against other cult members who might be looking for payback (they probably can't).

But you talking some sense into the cultists heads definetly does not go unoticed.

Romantic:

Shamura probably does like cuddles, especially when comforting them.

Might forget that you gave them something and try to return it to you.

If you remind them, then well they'll probably feel a bit ashamed that they forgot one of your gifts.

Please comfort Shamura if this happens.

(sorry i couldn't come up with much for them Shamura fans).

Kallamar

General:

Kallamar is a very nervous person so you showing them kindness was definetly unexpected.

you being nice? To him, and this quickly? You must be plotting something, he thought. but when you continuesly kept showing kindness and defended him from any rude cult members, he quickly realized that it wasn't the case.

he likes it alot when you reassure him that everythings gonna be fine. This man isn't much for standing up for himself. So if you do stand up for him, when other cultists come to do whatever they'd wanna do, he'll be very thankful.

If you went through the trouble of learning sign language just to communicate with him easilier his heart basically melts (not literally though).

Romantic:

He loves holding your hand. he likes the comfort of you being around.

expect him to be with you for a majority of the time.

will hug you whenever he feels nervous if he is allowed to (usually he is).

If he's trying to talk to you about something personal he'll usually use sign language with you when alone.

Kallamar spends so much time with you that half of his stuff is probably at your place.

Narinder

General:

He was not letting anyone even try and converse with him, after his indoctrination.

Not like people were gonna try anyway, considering what he tried to do.

But theres always someone different, and that just so happened to be you.

You kept trying to start a conversation, pestering him untill he finally tried to actually speak with you.

He wasn't very happy when he finally did start talking.

Despite that you just kept coming back.

Soon he actually started trying to engage the conversations, not really having much else to do.

Small conversation became a small friendship.

Soon Narinder found himself actively trying to spend time with you , and you were more then happy to do so.

Atleast the place wasn't as bad now for Narinder.

Romantic:

This dude is for close to anything but PDA (Public displays of affection).

Will purr if you hug him.

Narinder will never admit it but he's a total cuddle bug when in private.

Will do anything to prevent the lamb from finding out because he already knows he's gonna get teased for eternity the second they find out.

May or may not actively seek you out if he's getting really needy for some cuddles.

Will have orange cat level stupid behavior if he somehow gets his hands on catnip.

The lamb / Lambert.

General:

upon first meeting you, for whatever reason you were wandering around the lands of the old faith, they immidietly asked if you wanted to become part of their cult.

Likes your dedication to the crown and the cult

If you're especially dedicated to the cult then they might read your mind (and might find out you're in love but who knows).

Definetly tries to become closer with you.

They might ask if you wanna go on walks to take a break from all the work.

If you have any problems then the lamb will be willing to do just about anything to help (not everything though).

Romantic:

The lamb definetly makes the first move.

They shower you in gifts, kisses and cuddles whenever they're not busy.

Will do a marriage ritiual as soon as you feel comfortable with it.

Will spend lots of time with you in their free time.

You're probably being put in charge of taking care of things whenever they go on crusades, mainly because they trust you the most.

Doesn't have alot of time when they're not working but they spend almost every second that they're not busy beside you

Expect surprise hugs.

Lots and lots of surprise hugs.

Alot of people are probably both jealous and happy for you because of you being with the lamb.

The lamb does not care because they got the most wonderful person in the world as their partner aka you <3.

(Hope you enjoyed my first ever headcannons)

[kaidatheghostdragon]

So that prompt making the rounds about danny trapped in wayne manor? Let's reverse it.

One of the bats gets sacrificed by a bunch of cultists. The catch? The ghost king's summoning hasn't been successfully activated in thousands of years, thanks to Pariah being trapped in the Sarcophagus, so the cult doesn't realize that the summoning actually sends the sacrifice to the ghost king's lair. (It wasn't really a summoning so much as an official means to send an offering to appease the tyrant king.)

Why did the cult attempt a defunct summoning? They thought that every other attempt before didn't have a good enough sacrifice, which is why they abducted one of the bats. SURELY one of them will be satisfactory to the king.

So that sacrificed bat gets yeeted to Pariah's Keep, which is almost completely desolate - it does have a skeleton crew as groundskeeping, staff and security. Danny only visits the keep every couple weeks or so to make sure everything is in order, and occasionally the entire team stays there for a long weekend as a good place to hide from all their responsibilities and destress.

So whichever bat is sacrificed to the ghost king, they find themselves in a creepy castle on a floating island in an unknown dimension. They have to avoid the literal skeletons wandering around doing housekeeping and guarding the place, figure out why the very king they were sacrificed to is completely missing, and how to get back home. They don't know how to escape the floating island, and even if they did, they won't because they found out the kitchen restocks itself with human-safe food, and who knows if another source exists out there somewhere. They aren't even sure if this is a fae land kind of place and if eating the food will trap them here, but they're eventually too starved to care. Eventually, they figure out they can walk through walls in this place and find resources such as the royal library, the armory, etc.

Meanwhile, the waitstaff totally know that a human was sacrificed to the ghost king and dumped into the castle. They know from experience what food is safe for their young king's human friends to eat and make sure plenty is available for the terrified guest, giving them space to wander while keeping them safe on the castle grounds. The young king's last visit was a few days ago, so they'll just wait until he returns in another week or two to inform him of his new guest - as that's surely how he'll treat the human sacrifice considering how hard he scowled upon learning about his army of thralls, then promptly found a way to release them. (Most of them stayed, happily loyal to a king that returned their agency to them in order to upkeep and protect his lair.)

[creature-wizard]

What's up with the Satanic Panic, in a nutshell.

Around the 1970's, conservative Evangelicals began weaponizing a number of conspiracy theories against anyone who wasn't a conservative Evangelical. These conspiracy theories were essentially repackaged witch hysteria (IE, the conspiracies pushed by early modern witch hunters) and antisemitism (especially blood libel).

The core conspiracy theory was that a global satanic cult was working behind the scenes to manipulate politics and lead people away from Jesus. The exact practices of the cult depended on who you asked, but common allegations were practicing human sacrifice (including plenty of child sacrifice), drinking human blood, engaging in sex slavery, producing CSE and snuff films, doing drugs, and having orgies.

Numerous people stepped forward claiming to have been either former cult members, or cult survivors. Pretty much all of their accounts are full of blatant absurdities, and anytime someone was actually investigated, pretty much all of their claims fell apart. For example, Mike Warnke, one of the earliest self-proclaimed ex-satanists, was found to have made up his entire story. One woman, Lauren Stratford, was not only revealed to be a fraud, but afterward claimed she was a Holocaust survivor to collect benefits.

Some examples of claims made by people who claimed to be ex-members/survivors include:

Neopaganism was created by the global satanic cult, and Aleister Crowley was their main agent in this.

All neopaganism and modern witchcraft is a slippery slope to human sacrifice and "hardcore satanism."

All media that depicts magic or the supernatural in any way is part of the satanic agenda. Yes, literally all of it. Yes, even that.

Homosexuality is part of the global satanic agenda.

Rock and heavy metal music are part of the global satanic agenda.

Fluoride, artificial sweeteners, and various food additives are actually mind control drugs.

Electromagnetic waves are used to control people's thoughts.

Marxism was created by the global satanic agenda.

If you know anything about QAnon conspiracy theories, you might notice that some of these look awfully familiar. This is because QAnon was another manifestation of Satanic Panic. They updated "electromagnetic waves" to 5G, and largely replaced homosexuality with transgender, but it's the same thing.

The conspiracy theory about cultists creating mind controlled slaves by inducing dissociative identity disorder through torture (all that Project Monarch stuff) is purely a product of the Satanic Panic. People's supposed "memories" of this abuse were generally produced via recovered memory therapy, which is now known to be more effective at implanting memories rather than recovering them. No serious investigations ever produced any evidence of the supposedly widespread and incredibly elaborate torture of tens of thousands of children.

Now, there have been actual isolated cases of what might be considered satanic ritual abuse. But they do not constitute evidence of a global satanic conspiracy. Rather, they constitute evidence that the perpetrators were inspired by the conspiracy theory.

Additionally, they had a very pseudoscientific view of DID, and the horrible practices allegedly used to induce it and create mind controlled alters were pure pseudoscience, as were the alleged symptoms that someone might be a victim of satanic ritual abuse and just didn't remember it. Everything from autism to having conflicted feelings about your abuser to liking BDSM could be construed as a sign that you had been ritually abused. With a bunch of therapists fully convinced that thousands of people had been ritually abused and armed with hypnotic techniques that allowed them to implant memories of abuse, you can see where things could turn messy in a hurry.

Those who claimed to be former satanists/SRA victims were extremely clear in their assertions that this global satanic conspiracy really did exist, and that the only way to escape and stay safe from it was to accept Jesus. Tales of demonic attacks that could only be stopped by the power of Jesus were common, as were other claims of grandiose supernatural power.

In short, the Satanic Panic was - and still is - a means of demonizing anyone who isn't a fundagelical Christofascist, and scaring anyone who already is, into remaining such. Many of the conspiracy theories have made their way into supposedly progressive circles, so you'll occasionally come across the Project Monarch stuff in DID communities, or see pro-LGBTQ people subscribing to conspiracy theories about the wealthy elite drinking blood or adrenochrome.

But make no mistake, there is no "grain of truth" to these allegations of a global satanic conspiracy. There was no "time before all of this was corrupted by evil agendas." It was all created by people with with hateful agendas, and continues to be perpetuated by people with hateful agendas. And that's all, folks.

[lulu2992]

I appreciate your time so much!! ♡

1.) Jacob wasn't married, but in your opinion, why do you think they kept the song only you and the music box in the game for him.

2.) The first time you meet the siblings, Individually Joseph isn't with faith and Jacob, but with john, he is do you think it's because be didn't trust him.

3.) Who was holly and Terry to john

4.)john mentioned a woman in they dlc that she gave him everything, but she made him angry. Did he kill her or just physically hurt her?

No problem :D

Question 1:

We indeed know from the lead writer that, before that idea was eventually scrapped, Jacob’s backstory was different: he had a wife and “Only You” was the song they danced to at their wedding. So why did they keep the song even though it seems it doesn’t mean anything special to him anymore?

Maybe it was too late or too inconvenient for the devs to pick a new one, or everyone still liked it, or there’s something very dark and ironic about turning people into mind-controlled killing machines using a love song, or they decided the lyrics didn’t really have to matter anymore, or maybe because, as Jacob suggests after Eli’s sacrifice, “only” the Deputy could have done it.

They are the chosen one in Joseph’s prophecy, so maybe they were also the person Jacob was waiting for all along and the song was always for them. He apparently believed his destiny was to die for Joseph and the Project so, in a way and as the lyrics say, only the Deputy could “make all this world seem right”, “the darkness bright”, and were his “destiny”.

As for the music box, it’s simply a conditioning tool, and it plays “Only You” because it’s still the song Jacob uses as an auditory conditioned stimulus, I guess.

Question 2:

Good question! You’re probably right because we also know Joseph personally contacted John to basically tell him to calm down and there’s no evidence of him doing the same for the other Heralds. An NPC also says she heard that, unlike Faith, John “never had the Father's full confidence” and, while she’s not a cultist and it seems to be a rumor, this is fiction and the line exists for a reason. That, plus the fact Joseph says the abuse his younger brother faced as a child turned him into “a monster”, “not perfect” and sometimes “not even good”, may explain why he came to the baptism. Judging from John’s reaction, it was a surprise inspection and he didn’t expect his brother to show up!

Deleted dialog also suggested Joseph may have come to this specific Cleansing because the Deputy was there, but I can see him wanting to keep an eye on John to make sure he doesn’t hurt people more than necessary too. By the way, it makes me sad he arrived precisely when John, who was apparently doing pretty good before seeing the Deputy, lost it for just a few seconds...

On a side note, I like to imagine that, canonically, since Jacob represents the Horseman of the Apocalypse riding the Red Horse of War from the Book of Revelation, which inspired Joseph’s prophecy, he was supposed to be the second seal to be broken and therefore the first Herald to die. That could not only explain why John is so angry upon seeing the Deputy and wants to hurt them, but also why Jacob is not angry at all the first time we meet him. I know he’s not as emotional as John, but if the Baptist is already dead at this point, I find Jacob oddly calm for someone who’s just lost the little brother he “always tried to look out for”, says an NPC who then adds, “Imagine what [Jacob]'s gonna do when he finds out you killed him.”

Question 3:

Who was Holly to John? In the novel Far Cry Absolution, someone he had a casual sexual relationship with. In the game, though? Nobody, it seems.

In Far Cry 5, we learn thanks to an NPC and even in the unused encyclopedia that there is (or was) someone named Holly in Hope County who joined the cult, but she lived in the Henbane River region when, in the novel, she was Will Boyd’s neighbor, implying she lived in the Holland Valley. Also, in-game Holly had a girlfriend named Charlie who is never mentioned in the book (she had an abusive husband instead).

Sure, you can find a note at the Pepper Residence that she supposedly wrote and in which a husband is mentioned, but I think it’s inconsistent with the rest of the information the game gives about her. It feels like they wanted to make it look like she was the same Holly as in Absolution... but I don’t think it works very well. Plus, we know Eden’s Gate forbade fornication (sex between unmarried people) so it feels very out of character for cultists to do that and openly admit it, especially John who is obsessed with sin and always seeking Joseph’s approval.

Who was Terry to John? Most likely another cultist, but I don’t know more. The only time he’s mentioned is in the note “Your Question”, which John wrote as a reply to him, but there is no information about Terry or what his question was. Did John even know him personally or did he call him by name simply because Terry’s note was signed?

I wish we knew more and I really want to know what he asked, but yeah, all we can conclude is that he was a cult member. I like to imagine he may be the “T.J.” who wrote this note (in John’s Gate), though:

LOST KEY Has anyone seen the weapons locker key? I spent the whole day caring for the new arrivals and lost it somewhere. Last thing I want is for John to find out. If one of you is playing tricks on me, cut it out! T.J.

It’s also very possible they’re two different people; I’m just “headcanoning” here!

Question 4:

What happened to the woman in the DLC is unclear but, since all John does in Collapse is cut people because of those “urges” he can’t control, we can assume that’s what he did to her. Did she survive? They don’t say it, but the fact they made John say, “They’re going to find out what I did to her” makes me think she can’t talk about that herself anymore and is probably dead...

I’m going to talk more about John’s characterization in Collapse and more specifically about how it influenced people’s perception of him and his actions in my reply to your other ask.

[twstmagica]

Magical Girl Yuu's First Day pt 2

It doesn't look like Fire Dude (Idia?) is gonna speak first

“So what did he mean by orientation?”

Muttering: “WTF are you stupid, how do you not know?”

“What was that”

“Ahhh, nothing”

Yuu gets the sneaking suspicion that this guy isn't going to be super helpful.

Fire Dude hunches further in on himself.

So orientation. That's like an introduction event for group stuff.

But what's with the robes?

Oh geez, is this a cult thing!?

Okay Yuu, gotta stay sharp. Play cool. Don't let him know you're onto them.

“Soooo will the leader be at orientation?”

Nailed it

“Huh?”

Did not nail it

Muttering: “what's with this weirdo.”

“Umm the headmaster will be there.”

bluff check passed

“Oki-doki, then I'll just save my questions for them. Please lead the way.”

Muttering: “I thought it couldn't get any worse than Malleus, but now I’m stuck with an escort quest for this newb.”

Well sorry Fire Dude. I didn't want to be kidnapped by your cult but sometimes these things happen.

They do eventually make it to a giant room with heck-ton of people in robes

Actually all these people seem to be guys.

Huh. That probably means something.

Yuu doesn't get a chance to ponder this mystery before a tall figure captures her attention.

Dressed differently from the others, this man has a snazzy tophat and bird mask hiding his identity, and wears a fancy suit and feathered jacket combo.

But the sleeves are hanging off his shoulders? Why not just wear a cape??

Uh oh. Bird-mask-top-hat man is heading straight for them.

Crowley is *!!!* at sight of the missing new student while Idia absconds the fuck out.

Fire Guy nooooo! We grew so close, why would you abandon me!?!

Birdman is gesticulating wildly as he talks.

“The nerve of kids these days!”

Ugh. This Birdman is squawking at Yuu about impatient students and she can't get a word in edgewise.

“I wasn't the one who-”

“Really, it seems each year students get worse!”

“No listen, there was this flaming raccoon-”

“Despite my hard work there's always something!”

“Bruh”

The child keeps trying to make excuses, but Crowley won't have any of it.

Fortunately the Headmaster of Night Raven is so generous, and only sends the delinquent to the back of the sorting line as punishment.

At this point Yuu is just going with the flow. Surely if the strange cult meant her harm they would be more menacing?

Yeah the birdman is super rude but he isn't actually hurting anyone. 

And if Yuu was listening right this is apparently some kind of school, so there should be staff or teachers around who can actually help.

Yuu figures she can just wait until another, less wacky adult, shows up.

Oh hey! Horn Guy from earlier is standing with Fire Dude and a few other fancier cultists (students?).

They make eye contact and Yuu smiles and gives a little wave

Horn Guy nods back with a slight smile.

Smile plus a nod means we’re basically allies now.

Yuu is pretty sure that's how this works. If this is a school then the same technique used for choosing a worksheet partner should apply here as well.

Meanwhile the other dorm leaders are wondering why tf this freshie is waving at The Malleus Draconia 

[bluegekk0]

Honestly this is a more of a general headcanon thing. Do you think there are cultists who worship the void? Because me and my friends have this Hollow knight DND-esc thing and they have made a void cult group who worship void, and are just everywhere, hell they made a Beast that’s made out of void, Dead vessel shells, and other bits, my friends just really pushed the eldritch horror of it all, so in all honestly do you think people currently would worship void if they found out about it?

I mentioned it before but I do think there was some kind of civilization living in the Ancient Basin/the Abyss region that utilized the void for their progress somehow. I wouldn't say they worshipped it, though, and if some did, it wasn't a widespread thing. Void was simply seen as fuel, or something to be molded into workers (similar to what FPK did with the Kingsmould) or tools.

I imagine that was many hundreds of years before any of the cultures that still exist have developed. They were likely one of the first few groups that settled in the area, and because of their territory being so deep within the mountains, they weren't exactly the most well known to others, and so they aren't many records of them.

The void's dangerous nature didn't become a threat until later, when its pure form mutated and became so ingrained in their culture that members of the community started experiencing its effects at an enormous scale. Mysterious sicknesses became common, with no cure in sight. The bugs were eventually found dead with the substance leaking out of their skulls, and the void began further spreading throughout their settlements, wrapping around their huts and leaking into their houses.

Unlike The White Palace, their territory was poorly lit, the void was in its natural habitat, and as any force of nature, it did not care what was in its way. The bugs that once used it as fuel now became its food, and it was too late to stop. Those who somehow avoided its most deadly effects managed to run away and leave their community behind, but it wasn't enough to preserve it, and they eventually all died off (all of them prematurely, the void particles they breathed in on a daily basis did significant damage to their bodies).

That is how I envision void, as an oil like substance that over time mutated into something more like a living being, and eventually into a united form known as The Shade Lord. But in its pure form it has no agenda, it only wants to be left undisturbed and survive. The bugs were just unfortunate to start a settlement in its natural habitat, and they eventually paid for it.

These days, though, it's not as dangerous. After Ghost united it and then dissolved it, the void returned to its peaceful state deep within the pits of the Abyss. The Ancient Basin is much safer to navigate through, just like it was during FPK's reign, though descending down into the Abyss is still not the best idea, even with the lower amount of void down there.

The only traces of the old civilization that can be found today are the few statues (or perhaps they're fossilized corpses?) and other elements of architecture they made, as well occasional ruins of their settlement poking out of the void lakes. But due to the dangerous nature of the area, no archeologist has traveled here to study them, so they remain a mystery

Also worth mentioning, I don't think the vessels would have an effect like that on other living beings. They have shells that keep the void inside, and while they're partially void beings, the amount isn't enough to harm others, unless their pure void comes directly into contact with someone for a very long time (the civilization died to it because they were so dependent on it for hundreds of years, they let it into every aspect of their lives and it overpowered them). So Holly is safe to be around, but they do have to keep their damaged body parts in check (for instance, wear bandages over the open scars so that the void doesn't leak through). I don't think they would cause any significant harm to those around them, unlike beings of pure void (or the pure void itself, which can only be found in the Abyss), but better safe than sorry.

I doubt there are any void worshippers these days, the void has mutated to the point where it's undoubtedly a dangerous thing to be around - in the very distant past, it wasn't much different from oil. I also don't think The Shade Lord was ever really known to them, so they would have no reason to believe it could become a godly being. I imagine all the godseekers unfortunately didn't survive Ghost's ascension as The Shade Lord, so there are no remaining bugs who know about it, other than those who fought its previous incarnation and/or know of its dangerous nature (so basically only FPK, WL, Grimm and Ogrim).

But who knows, maybe there are some reckless individuals who find a being worth of worship in the void substance. I wouldn't count on them living long enough to spread that idea very far, though.

[laugtherhyena]

Continuing the relationship chart grind, look at how many goddamn arrows and multiple colors this bitch has. I wouldn't expect anything less form Mrs.Weird woman here.

Much like last time, check this post first if you're new here so you know who is who in this mess.

As an evil spiteful nurse most of Catherine's chart is composed of varying levels of dislike. While John is the only one with the hartred color all through the only reason she hates him that much if because he tries to kill her on day 1 morning, if it wasn't for that she really wouldn't have much opinion in the guy. Amos is actually the person she hates the most out of the whole cast, pretty much by default, since he is a priest and Catherine despises anything and everything related to religion or cultists or magic. Partially because the family that abused her for a good part of her life was heavily religious so she associates the practices and devotion with them, but also because she prides herself in her work a lot and feel as if using magic for things, especially healing, is incredibly lazy and requires no real skill or ability. Seeing people be able to grow entite limbs back in some rituals while the best she can do is stitch them back up makes her feel worthless and she hates that more than anything, it's a blow to the ego, what more can i say.

That's literally the whole reason she has such a bone to pick with Amos because if she stopped being an asshole for one and learned how he was forced to become a dark preist and actually dislikes that heavily I'm sure she wouldn't dislike him that much. But she'll never take time off her day to be around him unless absolutely necessary, so that's not happening.

She dislikes Kit for basically the same reason as Amos, tho his less bad because his main god isn't All-mer (the one her family devoted themslves to the most, which is also the church kind Amos was a part of) + seeing him be an absolute outcast and lacking even a basic knowledge of how it is to be normal and a part of society due to the cult he grew up in validates her beliefs that cultists are just deranged people who will ruin their own lives in favor of devoting themselves to a god that doesn't care for them. She pities him, but that pity isn't enough to make her feel genuinely bad for the guy, she will just be a dick that glares at him from the sinelines and find some form of twisted enjoyment from seeing him suffer because of his ties to the wolfmasks.

On a similar note of dislike mixed with weird feelings we have Lola, who is an odd one out in her humongous hate list because Catherine tens to have a soft spot for women who had harsh upbringing and/or grew up in poverty because she also went through hell while growing up, while Lola did have a pretty harsh life that is ironically a factor in why Cathetine dislikes her so much.

She sees herself in her, as they were both essentially forced to become houseworkers from a young age for one reason or another. But since Lola never tried to change that status or pursue genuine passions she had in life, bending to other's wills and becoming incredibly submissive as an adult because of that, Catherine absolutely loathes her because in her eyes she's looking at the kind of person she could very well have become if she didn't take certain paths in life and she hates that so so much, tho the "I relate to you heavily" keeps her from despising this girl in the same way she does with John and Amos. And hey, i do think that in certains situations she may be kind with her for once, there's just a heap of weird feelings and (self) hate involved.

Continuing on the dislike section we have Claire and really the main reason she dislikes her is because at the start of termina Claire follows her around trying to see if she can overhear any news about Kaiser's supposed plan of invading Prehevil, Catherine is from his army after all and if she's there Claire believes she can maybe check if those rumors hold true. Naturally, Cathy dislikes being stalked, which is made worse by the fact that Claire takes pictures of her around town (Catherine hates her appearance) which in turn leads to Cathy destroying her camera in a bit of a squabble during day 1 morning.

The thing is that this dislike can turn into gratitude and slight respect if Claire is the one to find and listen to her in the bop's hideout during day 1 night (which is Cathy's recruiting event), so much so that she is the only one of the playable characters of who Catherine will tell that she was indeed sent to Prehevil to scout the place and report when would be the best time for the army to invade it + how now she plans on calling them to come anyway so that they can be killed by the moonscorches as a revenge of sorts since by this point she believes Kaiser send her there to die (essentially saying she is disposable and you bet she hated that idea a lot).

Lastly we have Addison and Matyas who are in the dislike/intrigue mixture for basically the same reason of Catherine finds them incredibly annoying and can't stand being around them, Addison because of how paranoid and scaredy he becomes when termina starts and Matyas for his delusional ramblings and scaredy cat-ness as well.

Onto the neturals we have Hilda and Anatol who she really doesn't hold much of an opinion on. Hilda doesn't talk to her and she won't bother going after her either but she does find Anatol tolerable, mainly because he is Ebba's boyfriend and she likes both Ebba and Mary for the previously mentioned soft spot she has for girls who grew up in terrible environments. Tho i would say she likes Mary a bit more than she likes Ebba because she finds her ability to keep on living/fighting despite being incredibly injured impressive from a medical standpoint + Ebba taking advantage of Mary upsets her a little.

Lastly we got the Vinson brothers which are a source of intrigue to her because Cathy never had a good or even normal relationship with her sister so she likes observing the two out if wondering if that's how siblings are actually meant to be, she can tell that despite arguing and butting heads quite often both Damian and Leslie care a lot for one another which is something she finds both sweet and saddening because Madeline has never had this form of genuine care for her even after she started being nice to her.

While she is somewhat similar to Damian due to both of them being very no-nonsense sort of people who focus on their goals above most other things, they don't actually get along that well? They will work fine if they're sticking together for survival but if left on their own devices they will probably just never talk because Damian finds her sketchy/suspicious/potentially dangerous and since Cathy can tell he looks at her weirdly she will act accordingly.

Leslie on the hand is the person she likes the most out of the entire cast, surprisingly because i feel at first glance she didn't thought much of him and only really started interacting with him out of being curious about the brothers. A handful of the things he'd say to her confused her immensely because she could not tell he was trying to show interest in her out of never having had anyone come towards her with that sort of intention, when he did make that clear with some kind of straightforward compliment it also confused her a lot but more as a form of denial of sorts.

Catherine is really funny to because she will be a spiteful power hungry asshole that is some level of rude to basically everyone she knows on a daily basis but she will crumble into an emotional mess the second someone reasures her that she is not an eyesore. Physical appearance is Catherine's deepest insecurity both due to the scars on her face and her body shape in general, so the idea that another person can like it let alone find her attractive is absolutely mind boggling to her. Knowing Leslie likes her that much makes her incredibly flustered but also drawn to him more and more through the festival since she longs to be loved even if Cathy herself would never admit it. (This isn't to say he only likes her for the looks tho, what made him set his eyes on her was Catherine being creepy and weird)

[nanomooselet]

Episode Seven: Wolfwood

It's a lovely evening in No Man's Land, and you are a horrible cultist.

The more I think about the idea that Legato wasn't ordered to do this, the more sense it makes to me. Let's do a count of assets this craziness puts into peril. We have the Punisher, highly chemically compatible and on an assignment already, who really doesn't need to be under more stress. We have the Doublefang, who's even better than the Punisher since he heals without the drugs, and through him Wolfwood learns that the Eye of Michael can't be trusted to keep its word.

We have the Plant aboard the steamer, as Zazie points out, and I'm not sure Legato is as concerned about it as he claims to be. We have the steamer itself, a relic of the spacefaring age with plenty of still-functional technology on board even if the humans can't do much with it. (And isn't that interesting? They seem to have just stuck a steam engine in there and closed off the rest. Cool worldbuilding details.) It travels to and from July - I suspect it carries at least some cargo and personnel for the cult. Speaking of, we have Hopeland Orphanage and its stock of potential subjects, which we know for a fact the Eye has its stamp on.

Finally we have Vash, who's one of the cult's figures of worship. He's the only living thing that Legato's "beautiful angel" truly cares about. Even if Legato's plan is a success, is achieving Wolfwood's perfect loyalty worth losing any one of the rest, let alone Vash? I really have to wonder how Legato planned to explain any of this.

Of course, he does explain, doesn't he? You must give up on your little brother and face reality. I must take everything you love from you so that you can fulfil your noble purpose as a weapon. What we're seeing is Legato's first demonstration of his character to come, building sadistic traps to force painful choices upon his target, but also a glimpse of what awaits Vash at the end of his journey. Where could Legato have learned his definition of love? And let's not forget that he refers to his feelings as love in the first place.

He's such a drama queen. Can't wait to see him ruining everything next season.

So much in this two-parter is amazing, but I think a somewhat underrated moment is Vash preventing Wolfwood from killing Livio with that insane trick shot. My boy frees Wolfwood from a horrific mental trap because no one should have to choose between the things that they love, the things that keep them alive. Best of boys. Precious darling. He wants so, so badly for there to be a way out for him.

I'm hesitant to discuss Livio that much, because we, uh, really don't learn that much about him? We see the sad little boy in Nick's memories - which I have reason to suspect are not entirely the objective truth - and we have the stumbling puppet who boards the steamer. He isn't in a position to make his thoughts known, except once, and, well… it’s a decisive demonstration. But one that precludes any further participation. I have read the manga, yes, and I know what he's like there, but my feeling is that's more what he'll become than what he is now. There seems to be one fairly significant change, however: Razlo, and Livio's attitude toward him.

Razlo's there. I'm sure he's there. But is he always there in the same way? Is Livio so out of it because he's under the mask's control, or is it Razlo the mask keeps supressed? And when it becomes damaged, why does what Livio see in the mirror so horrify him? Does Livio even know who else is in his mind?

(We get our first glimpse of Chapel, too.)

(Somehow I feel like I'm not going to be a fan of this guy.)

They didn't save Livio, but he got to make a choice. Even if it was a choice they wish he hadn't made.

Speaking of choices!

Meryl and Roberto continue to be the show's main source of comedy - the dub work for the Bad Lads Gang is so funny. Poor Meryl's teary little face when they bring up the Worms. Them being all excited about getting on the cover of an outlaw magazine, whatever that is. Roberto just being all welp, this might as well happen when he learns the faltering steamer has a space age cannon stuck to the top and that still works.

Not enough booze in the world.

And then Meryl makes a choice. Roberto's right, on some level - they're not soldiers. They're not fighters. By any sane standard this is not their fucking job. But there is no one else who can do it. Regardless of ability, there's simply no one else who's been given the choice between standing there, taking the risk, or fleeing with the knowledge you could have done something and didn't. So Meryl makes her stand... and I realised that Roberto does too, because he faces the same choice. They all do! There's something they all want to protect more than anything else. Such different people with such vastly different skills and life experiences all have something in common, and they work together to realise their purpose. It's the second time in the series this has happened and disaster's been averted with their efforts. I just!

Of course then things get even crazier and we move into what might be among my favourite action sequences in the entire series? It's admittedly hard to narrow it down. This has been extensively dissected elsewhere, but it really might have the most beautiful cinematography (especially in the Plant room - ethereal, and then the hard cut comparison to the steel and scorching flesh of Wolfwood's efforts and I'm reduced to helpless arm-waving). But I think there's one detail I want to emphasise?

Cool watery blue and burning fiery orange-red, yes. Gorgeous contrast. But both also have just a dash of the opposing colours. The two aren't so far apart, each holding part of the other - fundamentally connected, in spite of all the ways they're different.

[charpeach]

Okay, to extend your headcanon of Leshy and touch, imagine the particular feeling in how his hands are held back being how he winds up noticing that a friend of his has developed a crush on him

hahaha so uhm this brought me to writing an entire fanfic???

anyways. here, enjoy.......

Being blind wasn't easy.

Leshy had learned it the hard way, the day he was stripped of his crown and brought to the lamb's pathetic cult.

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt completely helpless. And terrified. And alone.

All sorts of unfamiliar scents surrounded him. Like a swirling storm, it overwhelmed him to try and distinguish one from another.

The noises felt way too loud to process. The voices, the rustles, the din and the laughters, all blended into one non-stopping mess.

But that was then.

Now Leshy learned to adapt.

The lamb was quick to adjust the whole place to be more accessible, too. There were stone sidewalks and handrails to help him navigate around the village without crashing into anything.

One of Leshy's favorite things were decorations: while for everyone else they were a sight to see, for him they were something to feel.

He touched sculptures, capturing and imagining all the cracks and bumps and little patches of moss covering them. He touched cold and sleek surface of the marble fountain by the park. He touched flowerbeds, exploring the patterns of dimples and grooves.

He touched people, too. Not in a weird way, of course. It became something to anchor to when having a conversation.

He'd tug on their clothes or take their hand in his just to know where they were and to be sure that they are still there, listening.

Narinder's paw was always soft and furry to touch. He'd hold Leshy's hand lightly and tenderly, as if he was afraid to squeeze it too much.

Heket, on the contrary, had a strong grip. She'd be the one to lead the way for him, quietly letting him know that he's under her protection.

Kallamar's hand, as one would expect, was usually slippery and moist, yet harsh, like dolphin skin. He'd often be the first to get distracted and let go, not out of malicious intent, but the simple need to involve someone else for them to properly communicate with each other. Deafness didn't go well with blindness.

Shamura, despite all the memory problems, would never forget Leshy's little habit. They would take his hand in theirs, delicate fingers sliding like silk across his, they'd let him hold on to them however long he needed to.

Lamb's hands were strong, rough and calloused, peppered with cuts and scratches, all reminding how much of a hard worker Lamb was. They'd hold Leshy's hand in a quiet promise.

Yet, this layer in interactions would stay reserved for his family for an extended period of time: for people he trusted enough to accommodate his disability rather then making use of it.

That was, until Lamb brought one of the green crown's former subjects to the cult. Leshy's subject.

He knew that some of Lamb's followers used to serve other crowns. Most of them had passed way before Leshy and his siblings had joined the cult, and he didn't interact much with those who were still alive.

So Beryozka had caught his attention really quickly.

She was surprisingly loyal to Leshy. She was rigorously determined to not accept the Lamb as her leader it almost got her into trouble. Lamb was about to shove her into jail for dissenting when Leshy decided to intervene.

He could practically hear something shatter inside of her when she first saw him. He simply said “Be nice to the Lamb, lady,” with a soft reproach, and went on with his day.

A few days later he would find her among other cultists, praying.

He'd forgotten about her for a bit after that. Shamura's condition seemed to worsen with time, which had sent Leshy's attention to all sorts of other worries.

He wanted to talk to Narinder, couldn't seem to find him though. Leshy was checking the places his brother would usually go to, and eventually ended up at the secluded corner of a park where Lamb held crown trophies. The place always held an eerie feeling for Leshy, but Narinder would often go there to spend some time alone and think. Today, however, someone else was there.

“Your highness” - Beryozka muttered in awe.

“It's just Leshy now” - he corrected her softly.

“Right. Sorry.”

There was an awkward pause.

“What are you doing here?” - Leshy asked.

“Nothing,” Beryozka replied hesitantly, before adding: “Everything is just... different now.”

Leshy chuckled: “Yeah... But it's nice in a way.”

He didn't need his eyes to know that Beryozka was standing by the green crown trophy.

She'd been clinging to all the little crumbs and shards of her past. Leshy knew this feeling way too well.

“Say, why don't you help me in the garden later today?”

That's where their friendship began to form.

Beryozka turned out to be a kind and perky person. A little shy and shut-in herself, but genuine and friendly.

Leshy himself didn't notice how quick he was to entrust her. Beryozka was the one he'd talk to about what's bothered him and that he couldn't bring himself to discuss inside the family. Like how he's worried for his brothers and how he feels unable and unhelpful in the research that his siblings and the Lamb was doing.

And, like a good friend, she was there for him.

But one day...

“Leshy!”, Beryozka called him and approached.

He turned to her and, without a further thought, picked up her hand in his. He'd do that with his siblings and the Lamb habitually.

But Beryozka seemed taken aback. She stiffened all of a sudden, pausing in the middle of an action, freezing, like a deer in a headlights.

“What's up?” Leshy asked.

“Uh...”

He felt Beryozka's fingers twitch in his, her palm jerking slightly as if she was about to yank her arm back, but hesitated.

“Yeah, uhm...” She seemed to be distracted or at a loss of words, what she was going to say slipped out of her mind already. “Uhh...”

“Yes, Beryozka, what is it?” He repeated his question, squeezing her palm in affirmation. That didn't help.

“I, uhh, wanted to ask... Well...”

All of sudden, somewhere behind Leshy's back, his brother Narinder burst out in laughters.

“Leshy, let her go, you haven't seen cheeks this red ever” he yelled.

“Yeah, I don't see crap because of you!” Leshy barked back at him jokingly, but did listen and let Beryozka's hand go. “Sorry,” he said.

“Iwillneverrecoverfromthis-” she bubbled on a single breath and immediately retrieved.

“Wait!” Leshy yelled, but to no success. “The heck was that.” he muttered to himself.

“She has a crush on you, dude, you just startled her” Narinder explained with a note of snark. “Maybe give her a warning next time.”

“How was I supposed to know?!...”

[r-rook-studio]

Writing and Rewriting Bracknell Horror

So here's a terrible secret: in 2019, hot on the heels of the original Moonlight on Roseville Beach zine, I put some notes for a little adventure called "The Bracknell Horror." I had no illusions that it was a great investigation scenario. Still, it showed off a few things about Roseville Beach, including places and people in the town as well as the queer people who lived/visited there. It went to a location inside the setting without requiring deep lore, added some jokey Easter Egg references to Lovecraft's The Whisperer in Darkness, and included some comically easy to use alien tech.

The problem was, I didn't really like it.

People at con sessions had fun, but there was nothing particularly special or interesting about the scenario itself, and any scenario would have been great in its place. Also, while I like to say Roseville Beach is a game of "horror comedy," there wasn't much actual horror here other than some Lovecraft references. That's also true of my other Roseville Beach scenario "The Haunting of Flora Bly," though the book has four more scenarios that are richer in horror potential.

But this summer, just before running it at A Weekend with Good Friends, I rewrote it. I talked about some of those rewrites on my blog just after the first run-through, but more have come up as I've continued to playtest this.

First, while the initial scenario centered around a wealthy occultist-adventurer named Simon Mathers, the revision has greatly warped him from that initial vision. In the early drafts, he was an occultist willing to give Dreamlands entities the bodies of Roseville Beach residents in return for access to the Dreamlands. In the new one, he's returning to our reality after 20+ years in the Dreamlands, hoping to find a body for himself (the temporary one he constructed is collapsing) and his two Dreamlands familiars.

In the original, the cult-like group of followers worked for Mathers and planned to keep doing so. In the new, none of them like each other, and each of them have their own reasons for working with him (and one might even try to kill him).

Third, I let some of my OSR influences show. Beyond making each of the named NPCs a faction of one, I've also added some NPC rivals (all of whom might end up becoming collaborators) who also all have their own motivations and agendas for finding out what Mathers' cult is up to.

Finally, while the original notes told GMs to pull from the PCs troubles and connections to determine who Mathers' cultists have captured, the new one includes a chance to target the PCs themselves, giving at least some of them a chance to sneak in and explore the Bracknell while the cult is setting up the ritual, adds some specific NPCs the cult targets, asking instead how the PCs and their contacts/troubles connect them with those people, giving their troubles and connections a motivation to insist on coming along whether they'll be helpful or not.

Dai Shugars, Roseville Beach's art director and visual designer, has put together some incredible maps that allowed me to spend less wordcount describing the space and more giving info on NPCs, creating news stories and book snippets that can serve as physical clues, and creating a better sense of how the Doom Clock progresses.

The text will come to Itch for slowfunding next Tuesday, and the final zine will include the adventure, pregens, new strange events that tie to this mystery, and the basic rules of play, so you can try it out even if you don't already own Moonlight on Roseville Beach. Think of it like a horror-comedy investigation version of a Fighting Fantasy Game Book, but maybe gayer.

This is my chance to draft and preview some of what's coming. You can pick up Moonlight on Roseville Beach (Itch | DriveThru | Spear Witch | IPR) and the current two-issue zine bundle (Itch | DriveThru), or just follow-along with the zine project that will get bundled up in Dim All the Lights. Or you can back our upcoming reprint and hardbacks Kickstarter!

[by-glass-and-waves]

So follow up on the drafts for Chapter 14 of The Courtship of the God of Death I posted. It was so damn long that I figured it'd be best to have a separate post on my word legos

So what happened was that I had a better idea on where the plot was going and then I proceeded to lock myself in a corner with this chapter.

It was time to reach a resolution in regards to the "Jealousy" arc I had, which meant that Gremar needed to be dealt with. And because it was Courtship, he was not going to have a good time.

I decided that it would be a good (if not cruel) idea if he was deceived into thinking that the Lamb reciprocated his affections. And it'd be even better if I could deceive everyone into thinking that this was a time-skipped Narinder who was happy and excited to be with the Lamb, only to reveal who the narrator was during the wedding ritual. Given the previous chapter, the payoff would be chef's kiss.

....The only problem was how to write it.

This would've been a great Valentine's Day post, but alack, I could not find satisfaction in anything I was writing for it.

This fic has been, as far as I remember, written in third person limited. Almost always in Narinder's POV sans the Lamb's one chapter. And I gave myself the challenge of writing from the perspective of someone who sounded like Narinder, but seemed off, in a way that the reader would notice but still think it was Narinder.

The good thing is that I already showed Gremar as extra as fuck in his declarations for the Lamb, so it was not too out of left field for his thoughts to appear similar. However, sounding like Narinder wasn't enough to me. I wanted readers to get even more confused by giving him some parallels to Narinder.

Thus did I create a bit more of a backstory for him which I kind of want to write but it seemed too expository, would have to take another look at it at some point. Also it was handwritten oops

The gist of it is that Gremar was in Anura, content with his boring life. All he knew was the Old Faith, and that things were just the way they were. When he heard of the Lamb, he thought they were going to be another failed Vessel, and heard stories about them being a terrifying demon. After all, it was stupid to try to overcome the Bishops, those he had followed all his life. And then the Bishops started falling and he became increasingly hopeless.

He eventually resigned himself to becoming sacrificed because of the infighting by the remaining groups of cultists vying for power under the Old Faith. The Lamb rescued him and dragged him back, and it was love at first sight because he thought the Lamb was going to be a horrible ugly creature. He found out how much better the quality of life was, and fell for her harder. Then he saw the marriage problems...

So that's why Gremar waxes poetic about the Lamb and sounds similar to Narinder to throw people off, heh heh. But I didn't feel satisfied with anything I wrote. I tried to write like Narinder, I tried to write like Simprinder/19th Century Narinder, but it didn't seem right to me. It was too simple, too cheesy, too obvious. I'd write something, but I eventually put it down for a while because I couldn't figure it out.

Then I played Dragon's Dogma 2, and then I started figuring things out, little by little. I mean, it didn't help that work was exhausting these past few months. But taking my mind away from Cult of the Lamb and paying attention to the vernacular they used in the game helped.

Then there was the second part, the wedding itself. I already knew that the reveal was Narinder standing behind the Lamb and addressing Gremar, and for months I wanted to use the line "The death of a broken heart, though unconventional, was something that [Narinder] could appreciate."

Initially, I was just going to have Narinder freeze Gremar and let him watch as he kissed the Lamb's hand, but this is Courtship. Gotta twist the knife. Really make him feel it. Get... involved. Narinder has to enjoy making Gremar suffer (and try not to retch at showing the Lamb affection), after all. I considered the Lamb revealing that this was their idea all along, not Narinder's, but decided to leave it vague/reference it later/next chapter.

It was much more satisfying for Narinder to hurt Gremar so directly, and for him to realize that the Lamb didn't care for his suffering.

I like to think that if Gremar was in Restart or 19th Century AU, he still would not get the Lamb, but at least he'd be alive. But this is Courtship, so we ain't having that.

I was also considering the similarities Gremar had with the Lamb here. Gremar is just like the Lamb, latching onto them because of their mercy and kindness and superiority, just as the Lamb latches onto Narinder because they followed him their entire life and earned his favor as his Vessel then Consort.

But is it love?

Gremar is too innocent to do anything except praise the Lamb and hope they look at him. The Lamb isn't afraid to do whatever it takes to get Narinder's attention. And they don't realize how similar they are to each other, only seeing him as a tool to get Narinder's attention.

Poor Gremar. He had his use.

[korkorali]

The Many Dimensions of Della Duck sounds really interesting!

That one is interesting, in my opinion! It would be a multi-chapter story about like- how Della might exist in different media besides just DT17. What her story looks like, and what she's like, all explored in a 'DT17 Della is sent through a bunch of different dimensions and helps different iterations of herself.'

---

Most people in the world had a generally 'normal' kind of life. They woke up, did their job, did something else like talk to friends or something, and then went to sleep. They didn't have to worry about cultists, or portals, or getting stuck on the moon, or strange occult writings, or the botched summoning of an Ancient One in the heart of Duckburg, or glitching out of reality because you perceived That Which Cannot Be... all that most people had to worry about was whether or not they'd get a raise this quarter.

And unfortunately for her, Della Duck was not a normal person. Not by a long shot.

Which, in certain cases, did serve her well. For example, if a 'normal person' was hurtling through spacetime in a painful, glitching wormhole type situation, they'd probably be freaking the fuck out to the point where their mind would shatter. Della, however, didn't get that. Some (read: her) would say that she wasn't allowed to have something as simple as a broken mind at this point.

No, no, instead her mind had to just latch on to the color of those cultists' robes. Who the fuck thought that chartreuse was a good color for a cult getup? Seriously, she really hoped that whoever had decided on that had been one of their sacrifices.

...Maybe her brain was already broken. That would explain some things.

Of course, none of this would've happened if she'd just- stayed home for a change. Weathered out the stupid thoughts in her own brain and slept in 'till morning, like a normal person would. Normal people, after a loud and hurtful and very destabilizing fight, would simply cry themselves to sleep. But not Della! No, no, she just had to sneak out in the middle of the night to take a walk. 'Just to clear her head,' she'd claimed.

'Well good job, Past Della. You certainly did that.' She thought to herself, closing her eyes as the stream of colors that technically she wasn't supposed to be able to see burned into her eyes. Honestly, she should probably be kinder to herself, she knew that, but- at the same time she couldn't help but consider that maybe all this self-deprecation was her brain's way of protecting her.

Hurtling through the metaphysical equivalent of time and space wasn't exactly something people were built to handle. The fact that she wasn't even sure if she had a body or not at the moment spoke wonders to that. Maybe the self-hatred was just a way of keeping herself from thinking about how she was totally fucked, and it was all her fault, and this was just like the moon and she was going to die alone and nobody would know where she was and she deserved it-

Okay, maybe she needed to dial it back from that.

It was hard to do, though- all she was at the moment was thought. And even that was strained, the image of What Isn't still burned directly into her mind every time she tried to think of something else, and just- the way that they were built, too. Like damn, for something that didn't technically have any form, That Which Cannot Be was honestly kinda ripped, she had to admit.

'Della, you are hurtling through reality at breakneck speed and you have no idea where you're going- or if you're even going anywhere.' She reminded herself, 'C'mon, get your head in the game and think of a way out of this! There always is, you know this! Come on, focus, let's fix this shit! After all- Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!'

Unfortunately a positive attitude did very little to actually substantially impact one's being in the para-zone, the kaleidoscope colors only bleeding a slightly different shade in response.

However, before she could fall back into another internal monologue she felt something, which was actually kind of amazing in a place where material sensation had no meaning. It was a tug, a vibration, a reverberation that rippled through the thought 'Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!', in a way that was almost but not completely unlike the humming of a tuning fork or the string of a guitar vibrating.

Della didn't know what exactly that meant, but something was better than an eternity of trippy visuals, so she focused her will on that thought, and around her she began to feel other things, things that had the shape of chemical reaction and the weight of time where cause preceded effect. All it needed was a little push, a small touch of effort and focus to spark a cascading effect that pulled her in like a hard boiled egg being sucked through the mouth of a bottle that held a vacuum.

And then she landed face first on cold wet stone floor, and became aware of the fact that her physical form was now actually smarting quite a bit. Pain was good, it meant you were alive, but it was also painful.

"...Aaaghhh, ow." Della breathed out, rolling onto her side as she clutched her head. Apparently, something could stop Della Duck. Said thing was a rock.

---

(Tagging @imjustusingthistolikeartists so that they can add their two cents to the whole thing if they'd like!)

[boonsmoon]

Hey I wanted to ask if you could write character x reader with Crimson from Ragna Crimson? I don't have any request regarding the setting or anything else in that matter. You have a free hand on that part :3 And sorry if I sound stiff but english isn't my first language

i love you /platonic Crimson is my favorite character like <3 thanking Miku that Ragna Crimson simps exist on this site LMAO spoilers/references to chapter 50+

Request Chungus Masterlist Ragna Crimson Masterlist Series ML Crimson x f!reader Genres: Oneshot|Fluff|Romantic

Traitors Love

You two were close. Not close as in being linked through Crimson's powers. It was more of a mutual liking you took towards each other. Of course, it's not hard when you both are considered traitors to your kin.

Despite sharing the status of traitor, you both differed in various ways. While both superior dragons, neither of you came from the same bloodline. You are one of the rare Claw Brethren. There is also the act of betrayal. You've never held a monarch role like Crimson, so you simply left your previous ways of genocide on humans.

However, you both share a common goal, to take down the Dragon God. Except you didn't foresee that after working together for years, you would start to fall for the heartless mastermind.

But he wasn't truly heartless, you know this. No one got close to Crimson like you. In fact, you are the only living dragon other than Borgius to have seen Crimson in his monarch days. And you must say, it was quite the look.

All that being said, you have finally wiped out a bloodline, the Winged one at that! And you couldn't be happier to have done that, especially with Crimson at your side. Though you suppose the human deserves some credit.

"What we'll do is stay with the Sun Cult and follow their plans. Of course, this is subject to change, as you can't blindly follow homicidal cultists," Crimson was setting up the team's new plan since y'all don't really have one beyond killing dragons.

The team, of course, listened to the brains. Plus, you can't really put your trust in an organization willing to sacrifice their own people... With the end of the talk, each member dispersed to do as they pleased with their new free time. That left you to spend your time with Crimson...

"Tell me, do you really believe that boy will follow any plans the cult gives him?" You personally thought this human would ignore the Sun Cult as a whole, which ya know, makes a lot of sense.

Crimson smirked, but you could feel a mix of disappointment and anger coming off him, "I expect him to, but of course an ignorant brat who only cares about getting rid of bloodlines as soon as possible could derail my entire plan..."

You stared off into nothing, knowing there's not much comfort you can provide. You both sat on the loveseat, planning to have some productive conversation. Or at least you thought so.

Crimson broke the silence, surprisingly getting a bit emotional. Obviously, you couldn't tell from a glance at his face though. "Why are you so stupid as to stay around and follow my plans?"

You were stunned, Crimson is always so proud of his plans, shouldn't he be glad you follow without question?

"You have the strength to destroy a superior dragon, to fight one until daylight and watch it burn. So why don't you?" Crimson is praising you; something isn't right here.

You, getting caught in your feelings after so many centuries, thought saying the first thing that came to mind was absolutely genius, "have you ever considered it's because I love you?" NO- GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK.

No, you cannot go back. Now deal with the consequences of your actions. The consequences aren't that bad actually, it's just a reply, "wow, you're dumber than I thought."

Are you dumb? Sorta. You did fall for quite possibly the biggest asshole to walk this earth.

Now it'd be smart to shut up, yes? No, you will continue, but this time make it cringe, "I'm an idiot, but I can be your idiot."

With a look of shock to a sly smirk, Crimson says, "always have been." You are hiding in your hands, you foolish fool, how did you not see it?

Crimson moves your hands and slowly kisses you. Yeah, you definitely wanna kill the entire dragon species with this person. <3

i wrote this listening to International Love 👍

kinda cringe but gotta embrace it