#-the same planet as bill

[doostyaudi]

Been thinking abt Crystal in the more popular aus rn, specifically the ones where bill is either part of the Pines family or got sent back to gravity falls via theraprisim (handyman au, bill pines au, ect) and. Oh my god there's no way anything good would ever happen. You'd have to put them in separate cages cuz they will fight nonstop... U have to tell them to QUIT IT amd if they do that one more time they're not getting freeze dried eyeballs today after dinner

[godsfavoritescientist]

How do I explain the ways in which the bill origins fic 'A Romance of Many Dimensions' by haley3 rewired my brain without needing to give paragraphs upon paragraphs of context. The fic is something like 200,000 words long. Almost every single good moment calls back to things that are set up earlier in the fic

[knaveofmogadore]

Kfkdks

[kwyt3]

not my usual kinda post but i just want to appreciate how much they parallel each other so much even if its intentional or not

(also wanted to point out that the planet in bills brain on the page about karma and morels is the same(??) as the planet he projects in the weirdmageddon ep aka his dimension)

they could never make me hate you doomed yaoi

im kinda just saying shit so take this post with a grain of salt

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

[hoodreader]

phat butts

never trust a big butt and a smileee :) the astrology of being curvy. in specifics, having a fat booty.

a big butt to me is just a butt that’s noticeably more pronounced than the back. there’s some weight to it. no matter ur size. anyone can have a fat butt or a flat butt, just depends :P

ASC / 1H is the ruler of appearances and ur overall body.

in my opinion, the big booty havers be cancer/moon ascendants, taurus/libra/venus ascendants, and sagittarius/jupiter ascendants.

cancer and moon is generally curvaceousness. yes cancer is associated with the breasts, but i can also just see general fattiness that is associated with femininity in general (such as hips/butt).

venus is the ruler of curvaceousness. taurus is generally, and libra is the ruler of the buttocks specifically.

for sagittarius and jupiter, sagittarius rules the thighs. usually people with thick thighs have fat booties. usually. jupiter also rules fat (and it exalts in cancer).

this is especially the case when celestial bodies ruling expansion (The Rulership Book by Rex E. Bills says sun, mars, jupiter, neptune) are in the 1H.

edit: the celestial bodies of expansion should have some placement in the signs i mentioned or aspecting the planets, because they expand on the sign. a 1H jupiter in capricorn will not indicate curvaceousness the way a 1H jupiter in taurus might. edit 2: especially mars or the sun, they have no rulership associated with curvaceousness they’re just associated with expansion & i wouldn’t look to them for curviness.

chart ruler conjunct or trine venus or moon, but this is less influential. edit: and jupiter, but look to conditions of jupiter since jupiter rules fat in general.

7H is the ruler of the buttocks.

similar to the above points, but explicitly representing the buttocks.

containing moon, jupiter, or venus. neptune if u use it. in the sign of taurus, libra, sagittarius, pisces, or cancer. same reasons as above. having the sun or mars as well, as they rule expansion, per Rex E. Bills.

the 7H lord in the 1H/10H can show an appearance where ur butt is significant for ur image. 1H/10H lord in the 7H shows ur appearance brings attention to the booty.

the 7H lord conjunct or trine jupiter, venus, and/or moon also can show expansion over the butt. maybe the sun too. mars as well?

10H shows what ur known for or how u are publicly received.

similar as above for similar reasons: cancer, moon, venus, taurus, libra. for jupiter it depends on the conditions of jupiter: unless jupiter is the 7H lord or aspecting venus (maybe moon), i doubt it’s significant for curvaceousness.

if ur 10H is in taurus, libra, cancer, it’s may be for ur figure. sagittarius, may be for ur legs/thighs in particular. or cancer and taurus for general curviness. in libra, the buttocks or general bodily symmetry.

venus rules curvaceousness and ways u are sexually appealing.

in taurus, libra, cancer, pisces, sagittarius shows attractiveness for curvaceousness (cancer/taurus), the butt/hips (libra), body fat (pisces/sag), or the thighs (sag). respectively.

look into the ASC persona chart for ur venus placement to see what’s appealing about ur appearance. for this persona chart, knowing ur exact birth time is essential.

if u don’t know it, u would get a more reliable reading from ur venus persona chart’s ASC and 10H to see how ur sex appeal is translated thru ur appearance.

look to conditions (such as aspects) of planets ruling the 1H and 10H to get a better idea. u u can also just apply the above tips for the 1H and 10H and read that within the venus PC.

also, 9H venuses be having thick ass thighs and usually are known for their butts. i have so many examples. ari fletcher, jlo, chloe bailey (in placidus), megan thee stallion, etc.

edit: i forgot to mention, u can look to mars for the booty. even tho mars isn’t regarded for femininity, it still rules that area of the body.

okay, what do y’all think? do any of this resonate for u?

if i have any edits or any last thoughts to add, they’ll be added in this post as an update. i’m not making a whole part 2 to this shit lmaooo

#PhatButtHoodReaderOverAndOut

[reareaotaku]

Yandere! Bill Cipher Headcanons

He's obsessed with you

Like absolutely smitten. He wants all of your attention and time

He's prone to jealousy. If you do anything he doesn't like or pay attention to someone, he gets angry. He will annihilate anyone who tries to get in the way

Super possessive over you. Sees you as a toy that he can use as he pleases. You belong to him

He thinks you are as obsessed with him as he is with you

He becomes vulnerable with you when he feels you slipping from his grasp. He shows you a glimpse into his past. His home. The one a 'monster' destroyed

He doesn't want you around anyone in fear of them turning you against him. He trusts you but not them. He wants you to be with him forever

He is constantly in your mind, so if you ever think of doing anything he doesn't like, he knows. He knows everything. You can't keep any secrets from him

He's delusional to a fault. He believes you are under his thumb. He doesn't ever believe you'll leave him

Doesn't think you'll ever leave and you love him. You've given everything for him, so he does the same for you

Why would you leave him when you've given him your soul?

He does not take rejection well at all

You have to keep him happy, so that he doesn't destroy a planet or something

If you keep him happy, you can live a happy life

Just feed into his delusional and you'll be fine.

[veronicawildest]

VEDIC ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS #6

by yours truly, veronicawildest

• Saturnian rashi (Sidereal Capricorn and Aquarius) knows how to handle fame. Yes, there are struggles (just like their mental health), but no matter what they do, people love them, and that will leave a mark on the minds of the audience. They are the type of people who, even though they are dead, are still known. The music they made is still being played, and movies with them in them, etc.

Sidenote: It can also be noticed that usually, when celebrities become famous, based on the mahadasha, no matter what planet is Shravana, as long as your mahadasha is Shravana, there is a high possibility that you will become famous. For example, if your current mahadasha is Shravana (it doesn't matter what the antardasha is), there is a higher chance you will be famous.

Celebrity example: Miley Cyrus (she gained fame when she was in Hannah Montana).

•The former is so ironic that you have acquaintances who are Shatabisha, but you only know them by name. They are secretive (more secretive than other Sidereal Scorpios). They are better known by the rumors about them than by their real identity (what do they really do?). This explanation is the effect of the height of Rahu (this is the final nakshatra of Rahu).

• I just realized that Princess Diana has a lot of similarities with Marilyn Monroe. Both were born on the 1st of the month. They are also in the same nakshatra (Dhanista). They remain famous even though they are deceased. If you notice, their Arudha lagna has Mars influence.

• Sidereal Cancer (Pushya and Ashlesha) is really overhated. I know that some reading this might ask, "Why did you include Pushya?" But there is too! They are definitely included in the hate, not just Ashlesha. Ashlesha is more self-centered compared to Pushya, so people only notice that Ashlesha ends up being hated, which is not the case. Most likely, Pushya Sun (the bashers will really flock to them).

• Saturn nakshatras are not for the weak. Even if it is said that Pushya's deity lord is Brihaspati, the guru will not condone your mistakes. You will truly experience lessons and hardships. Additionally, Saturn rules laziness. I don't know where the "hardworking" stereotype of Saturn comes from, because it's a slow-moving planet.

• Apart from Jyestha, Chitra and Vishakha nakshatras are envied by most. The deities of Vishakha are Indra (lord of Jyestha) and Agni (lord of Krittika).

The difference between Chitra and Jyestha is that Chitra deliberately provokes others (to annoy them), while Jyestha, yes, they also do that, but there is a subconscious factor. It is not their intention to provoke jealousy in others. The Jyestha that I know personally are happy-go-lucky. They even like to joke (heavily into memes) and are also very sociable. They embody typical Western Sagittarius traits like that.

• Most of the Purva Phalguni (including Jyeshthas) like to stay up late; they have big eye bags.

• The pairing I see most is Mars Vimshottari Nakshatra and Bharani (Sun/Moon). For example, Bill Burry and his wife, as well as a classmate who has a girlfriend that is a Bharani Moon. The pattern is also the same: Mrigashira Sun for the guys and Bharani Moon for the girls.

• I just noticed that Uttara Phalguni boys (or any Sun-ruled nakshatra) criticize a lot of women, but they also love attention from women. The best example of this is Rhino from LoveLiveServe.

The positive attributes that I noticed in Sun-ruled nakshatra men are their value for friendship. They value friendship a lot. Boys support boys.

• Krittika is all about survival. What I mean is the type where you are stranded on an island and don't know what is essential to do; Krittika is all about that. The one who can build a house is like a civilization. This is not the type like in Ketu nakshatra that can kill and conquer animals.

• Ardra, Mrigashira, and Hasta are the best proof of the "girl's girl" motto. They really love their friends. Yes, the rest of them have a mean streak, but they are the nakshatras that stand up for being a "girl's girl" and are really into women's empowerment, not just clout. They are the type that will really fight and rally for women's rights and also fight against injustices related to women. Mula women and Krittika nakshatra women too, but in a lesbian way.

• I can say that Rahuvians are romantic, just mixed with an obsession/crazy factor, especially in Arda and Swati nakshatras—especially Swati.

In Swati, it's really an obsession, which is ironic since they are all about freedom. It becomes mixed with craziness when it comes to love.

In Arda nakshatra, they tend to be clingy and always want to be together (this is only based on my acquaintances, and I have noticed this). That's why they are also prone to heartbreaks related to their romantic lives, as they have high expectations when it comes to romantic relationships.

[ckret2]

Ok but why DO the teens of Gravity Falls start worshipping Bill after everything he did to them? Isn't there a better counterculture figure they can use that didn't traumatize them for life?

You'd think. Pre-TBOB I sure wouldn't have made them worship him—but if canon says they worship him to be edgy, who am I to argue.

So since it IS canon, I justify it two ways:

One: who says they were traumatized? I'm not saying "Weirdmageddon wasn't traumatic"; I'm saying "maybe they didn't feel traumatized by it." Not everyone comes away from should-be-traumatic situations with trauma, ESPECIALLY if they have a large support group that understands what they went through... like, say, literally everyone else in town.

And a WHOLE LOT of Gravity Falls—maybe even most of the town—had VERY little exposure to Bill or Weirdmageddon. Based on Wendy's account, she and her friends didn't know anything was wrong until the eye-bats swooped in to petrify them. Anyone captured "probably" wasn't conscious (based on how Lazy Susan seems disoriented and unaware of her surroundings, I assume they were mostly unconscious, partially dreaming). All the teens (along with the other townspeople) were freed from the throne while Bill and his minions were outside, escaped (except for Wendy & Robbie) before Bill got back, and then everything went back to normal and nothing was broken and nobody was hurt.

For Wendy, it was the most stressful, dangerous, terrifying week of her life.

For all of Wendy's friends (and probably most other teens in town), it was just a pretty bizarre 15 minutes.

Since the eye-bats were picking off stray townspeople days into Weirdmageddon, I'm sure not all of the teenagers in town were captured so quickly and painlessly... but like, the teens that got the highest doses of trauma from the incident probably aren't the specific teens worshiping Bill to be edgy.

Two: it's a way of reclaiming power over the situation. Do you know one way to stop fearing the monster you imagine under your bed? By imagining really hard that the monster you can feel so, so close in the dark is actually friendly and there to protect you.

The triangle guy's dead and not coming back right? Then there's no consequences if we clown around in his name. You want to be a big fancy god? Okay, now you're the God of Making My Teacher Give Me An A+ On The Final. You're the God of Please Don't Let Me Get Fired From My Part Time Job For Showing Up Late. You're the God of Putting Me In The Same Classes As My Friends This School Year. I'll sacrifice a chicken nugget to you and you'll do me a favor.

If you're a chaos god then I'm calling on you when we spray graffiti, secretly throw a house party, sneak into the movie theater, sell weed in the restroom. If you're a chaos god then keep away the cops and parents when we're breaking the rules. (It's lucky coincidence that Bill would probably love to be the god of illegal parties and drug dealing.)

If you wanna be a god, then you're hired, buddy—and on this planet, that means if we bow to your image and chant your name and sacrificially burn a one dollar Bill over a candle for you, then you have to do what we ask, and you can't scare us anymore. And if worshiping you DOES scare the authority figures we're yearning to buck against, that's just a bonus.

Pantheons all over the world worship gods of volcanoes, sea storms, war, and death. When humans see a force too terrible to defeat or escape, we give it a face, a name, and a temple, and start feeding it with offerings and prayers in hopes we can domesticate it the same way we domesticated wolves with meat and back scratches.

[dinodorks]

[ Argentinosaurus, a giant sauropod, illustrated by Chase Stone. ]

"Of all the animals ever to have roamed the planet, the iconic long-necked, long-tailed dinosaurs known as sauropods stand unrivaled. No other terrestrial creatures have come close to attaining their colossal sizes. They overshadowed all other dinosaurs, from the duck-billed hadrosaurs and the horned ceratopsians to the armored ankylosaurs and predatory tyrannosaurs. Even the mightiest land mammals—mammoths and rhinoceroslike beasts that were up to twice as heavy as the largest elephants alive today—were featherweights compared with the biggest sauropods. From an evolutionary perspective, this singularity makes sauropods an intriguing anomaly. Evolution is rampant with examples of convergence, in which the same feature evolves more than once independently in different groups of organisms. A classic example of convergence is powered flight—flapping wings evolved in birds, bats, pterosaurs and insects, but the particular bones or other structures making up the wings differ among the groups, attesting to their independent evolutionary origins. Convergence in evolution is very common even when it comes to complicated features: warm-bloodedness, eyes that can move and focus, bipedal locomotion, the loss of limbs, the use of tools, and live birth all evolved multiple times in different animal groups. Convergence is widespread in the plant kingdom as well: carnivorous plants evolved at least a dozen times, roots evolved more than once, and even arborescence—plants taking the form of trees—evolved more than once. With convergence so common in nature, sauropods' uniqueness in size is special in itself. No other land animal has approached even a third of the largest sauropods' weight. What makes sauropods stand out from the crowd, both literally and figuratively?"

Read more: "How Sauropod Dinosaurs Became the Biggest Land Animals Again and Again" by Michael D. D'Emic.

[anyydidi]

WRITING THIS POST BECAUSE I'M SO SICK OF PEOPLE MISCHARACTERIZING FORD!!!!!!!!!

Before we begin, everyone is entitled to their opinion. If you really think Ford wouldn't truly care, you do you.

That being said, I feel like people who claim that Ford wouldn't do a single thing to bring Stan back if their places were switched do not understand his character at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that he would open the portal. At least not right away. The one thing I agree with is that Ford wouldn't put the life of his brother above the whole planet like Stan did. He realizes the threat of the portal and Bill too much to do that.

But have people forgotten that Ford also loves his brother? Yeah, he was angry, bitter and resentful, but he wouldn't have just let Stan die in the multiverse. Especially since that would be entirely his fault he got stuck there in the first place.

For people thinking, "But Ford was too blinded by rage! He didn't care for Stan until after Weirdmaggedon!", have you seen the show? Have you read the journal? Through everything that happened, Ford kept a photo (tattered and worn, obviously taken out a lot) of him and his brother in his left, inner breast pocket which is the one closest to the heart. If that wasn't enough, for those who haven't read the journal, Ford kept reminiscing about and mentioning his brother before the portal incident. Even though those lines were often crossed out, it was obvious that at least unconsiously he had Stan in mind a lot. And at the end of the journal, it is written that he worked day and night, to the point of passing out, to bring Stan's memories (and essencially Stan himself) back. (Oh and have we forgotten about the absolutely shattered expression he had when he erased Stan's memories? You don't look like that for a person you don't deeply care about).

Still not enough to believe that Ford cared about Stan before Stan's sacrifice?

Let's talk about the fact that when Ford was at his lowest, that being paranoid, sleep deprived, tortured by Bill, drowned in guilt, and completely alone, he reached out to Stan? He says it himself, "I needed help, someone I could trust." After everything, he still trusted Stan to an extent and believed him to be his last hope. You don't give trust like that to people you truly hate.

Ford was self-absorbed and egocentric, but also hurt and betrayed. That feeling came from a misconception, but that doesn't make it any less valid. It is understandable that he acted towards Stan the way he did, with venom and bitterness. But we can be angry at people we love and still care for their well-being.

How I said earlier, I don't think Ford would really open the portal. He wouldn't risk the entire world for Stanley. But I do think he would do anything in his power to be able to bring Stan back safely. You cannot be telling me that he'd be able to live with the guilt and not do anything about it if he could. After all, in his head, it would be his fault. He got tricked by Bill, he built the portal, he made Stan come to him and showed him the portal and he wasn't able to let go of the journal and fought Stan for it. I'm convinced he'd still throw some blame at Stan for some of the fight to make himself feel better at first, but after some time he would just blame himself completely (the same way I think Stan did with the science fair incident). The guilt for all of that would eat him alive.

Let's not forget, Stanley worked for 30 years, basically half his life to bring Stanford home and I believe Ford would be willing to do the same. He would just go about it differently. He would either try to get rid of the threat of Bill and then be willing to upgrade the portal and turn it on again, or maybe try to find a completely different way to get Stan back from the multiverse, or in the end something entirely different, I'm not fully sure.

What I am sure of is that Ford wouldn't just let Stan be stranded in the multiverse without doing absolutely nothing. Maybe he wouldn't succeed, maybe Stan would actually have to find his own way back home because Stanford wouldn't be able to find a solution without risking their entire universe. But Ford would at least try, give it his all, because despite everything, he still loves his brother. Differently than Stan loves him, because Ford is a different person than Stan, but he still does.

So I beg you, people. Stop taking Ford's complex character from him. He can be a selfish, self-centered asshole, but he's not heartless.

[introvert-no-chameleon]

In the Palm of your Hand

@void-dude I dedicate this to you and the feelings of fluff unlocked when I saw Stadley cuddles and Nightmare! Tad.

You held Stan gently in his hand, cradling him in the crook of your palm. Stan was looking worse for wear—his Mr. Mystery outfit was in tatters. His bat was held in his hand, and he had it in a limp grip. His chest was rising and falling in quick bursts. His eyes were drooping from exhaustion, but you could still see them darting around, scanning for threats that you made sure wouldn’t be here.

Sweat poured down his temple. There were splatters of blood on his usually crisp white shirt, and you had to fight the urge to touch them—you still weren’t used to your current size, and the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. After a few moments, he leaned back from his sitting position to look up at you. “Where the hell have you been?”.

You felt there was more to that statement. You recognized the stubborn maneuvering around the subject of his feelings. The tone, dancing around saying the real thing, one you were familiar with for a long time. “I ran into some issues after the whole bloody sky turned red. Glad I saw you in time to give those eyebats a proper smacking.”

Calling them “issues” was an understatement; if there was one thing that hadn’t changed about Billy, it was the fact that he always knew how to make a mess out of things. Keeping the glamour on was taking more of a toll than it should be, especially now that you had enlarged yourself. It was strange (heh) to see Stan so small. Did he also adore peering down at you the way you were, holding the center of your multiverse in the palm of your hand?

Stan leaned against one of the fingers at his back. You carefully bent your index finger towards his face. He held it, hesitantly at first before he let go of his facade and allowed himself to be known by you. “I thought I lost ya, Tad,” he murmured. “Or that you left to...y’know.”

You did. Even now, even when you were pass the point of no return, a part of you still denied this was all the Billy you knew. When he extended his hand to you, a part of you wanted to take it. A part of you wanted to keep this shard of your past, of the sweet moments of childhood innocence and hope for the future. Of the kid with the bright eye who loved the stars so much he would wave his tiny hands towards them and babble for hours. Of the kid who loved the silly straws and just wanted to play and was endlessly curious, who cried when he broke things by accident and always begged for forgiveness. Of the sweet voice that called for “Taddy”, that said you were his best friend and begged you to always be around him.

But this was not that. Bill had burned their home and laughed when you begged him to stop. He had dragged the stars down and crashed them into planets, shattering them all in a fiery blaze of chaos and heat. He had become a black hole, destroying anything near and dear to him to feed his madness.

Billy was gone the moment he started the fire.

But Stan had stayed the same, despite everything. Always present, always fighting to keep his family together. Always grinning when he pulled off a con, always working hard, always bragging about his wonderful niece and nephew and the Pines family name. Always there those nights your mind drifted into the void, when you craved warmth and comfort and familiarity. Always keeping you in his hands as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. Always making sure you came back, failing to hide the worry every time you were gone just a little bit longer than usual.

“And let go of our tax benefits? Never.”

Stan chuckled weakly. “Yeah.” He sighed, and let the bat fall onto your palm.

“Come on, then. You’re still looking for the kids, right?”

He nodded tiredly. “Just ran into some trouble when ya found me. Nothing I couldn’t take care of, y’know.”

You nodded as if in agreement. No point in pointing out how terrible of a liar he was. “I’ll give you a lift. Lucky for you, it’s free of charge for handsome con men.”

He laughed then, and you remembered, as you always did, how much you would do to keep that laugh in your life.

Even if it meant facing Bill once and for all.

[mysticcopfriendegg]

I would also add:

[macfrog]

I miss our beloved scom family. How are they doing this fine day?

god, i miss them too. here's what they probably got up to today.

something blue 3.6k words | series masterlist warnings: y'all know the drill: being a mom.

Sarah leads Ellie, the way she always does, into the kitchen at seven a.m. sharp.

She stops by Joel first, squeezes into his size at the counter, and pushes onto her tiptoes. When he sidesteps to let her see (even though he point-blank refused to let you), she wraps two arms tight around her sister and hoists her up.

“Pancakes!” the three-year-old squeals, and loses her grip on her plastic dinosaur. He falls headfirst into the counter.

“Shh!” Sarah hisses, slinging Joel a disgruntled look. She sighs and swipes the T-Rex from his hand.

“The heck you lookin’ at me for?” he grumbles.

The girls eye you the entire walk over to the table. One as suspicious as the other. Sarah moves smooth, floats over to her spot with her chin skyward.

Ellie thumps at her heels, staring you down and almost stumbling into a chair.

“Careful, Nel,” you whisper, and her poker face cracks. You turn to Sarah. “I know it’s pancakes. It’s the only thing your dad ever figured out how not to burn.”

Joel’s shoulders jump. He swallows the laugh in his chest and says nothing.

Ellie sucks the chocolate clean from her dinosaur’s head. Last week, she decided his name was Bill. You, Joel, and Sarah are still trying to figure out where the hell she came up with it. Whoever he’s named after, she doesn’t like him much – not with the rate she lobs him around.

Kid’s an enigma. She suits it just fine.

She stares at you, still, as Sarah helps her up into her chair. Judders forward with each shove under the table. Comical, the two of them; like Pinky and the fucking Brain, you once told Joel – though you’re still not sure who’s who.

Your eyes drop to a stain on the toddler’s outfit. “You want me to wash that yet, Gagarin?”

She looks down. An arm swishes up to dab at the tangerine splotch. She grins, amused with herself, and shoves the dino back between her gums.

Sarah shakes her head. She turns back to you and flashes a trademark Joel frown. Eight years old and somehow, she manages to encapsulate the same fifty-six-year-old, unimpressed glower.

“Nel,” she turns, uttering between teeth, “You can’t wear dirty clothes today, remember?”

“I don’t think spacesuits are allowed at preschool,” you sigh as you push yourself up. “Much too sophisticated – huh, baby girl?”

Ellie giggles and flings her arms to the ceiling, sending Bill in a somersault across the table. She’s in nothing but pull-ups underneath the onesie – although it’s rare for her to ever be in much more than her pull-ups and, usually, one loose sock.

The suit means she’s feeling fancy. But what the fuck for?

All of Sarah’s leftover chaos, the magic she left in your veins after she was born, seems to have poured into her little sister. Smaller, mightier – more reckless, but not half as savvy.

Rarely seen without one of her prehistoric pals in her fist; evidence of what she had for lunch smeared around her lips. Chasing after Sarah, after Shimmer, after a butterfly that found itself trapped in her bedroom last month.

She scaled a chest of drawers trying to reach it. Joel caught her just in time. Some nights in bed, you can still feel his heart pounding from the scare she gave him.

Chalk and cheese. Sarah and Ellie. The former calm, composed. Candid and levelheaded, book smart and (alarmingly) wise beyond her years.

The latter – well.

It’s her first time on the planet, too, you try to remember.

You wander over to the washer, tossing the suit into the drum. You dig an elbow into Joel’s side and he flinches.

“Can I see yet?”

He turns, shielding whatever’s in front of him with a wide shoulder. “Not yet, baby. Not done.”

“You’re taking fuckin’ forever,” you mumble, pressing the words into his shoulder blade. From the corner of your eye, you watch the girls babbling to each other, scratching Shimmer between her floppy ears.

Joel twists, still hiding with his hands, and dots a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose. He smells like coffee and toothpaste. It still dizzies you every time he’s near enough for you to breathe it in.

“I’m almost done. Promise.”

You steal a kiss from his lips and smirk, stepping away. “Okay,” your eyes drift down to the counter, “If you say s…Alphabet sprinkles?”

His jaw slackens, moves like a bubbling fish. “Uh – they’re for – they’re for somethin’…Duck?” he clears his throat, “Tell your mom what they’re for, would ya?”

Sarah freezes. She stammers just like her dad. She does a lot just like him.

“A…a…a school project,” she says, and stares down at the dog.

“A – a – a school project?”

Your daughter nods. Still fixed on the smudges of sable around Shimmer’s eyes. “Bake sale.”

“You never told me about any bake sale,” you cross your arms, “What’d you make?”

She’s quick as lightning. “Cupcakes. But we haven’t made ‘em yet. Tonight, right, Dad?”

Joel’s voice is hoarse with panic. “Tonight,” he rasps.

You lean back against the counter, eyes shifting to the right. A different tactic. A rogue tactic, that’s for sure, but she has her moments. “…Nel?”

Your youngest looks up from her belly button.

“Not Nel,” Joel pleads, catching your eye for half a second.

“Why not Nel?”

His voice drops. “That kid would spill a state secret if you dangled a marshmallow in front of her.”

You tsk. “That’s mean. And wrong, anyways. The reason they have state secrets is ‘cause of kids like her. We should be proud, Miller.”

Ellie’s clutching the dinosaur when you look back over, chewing on his tail. She blinks back, and you wonder if there’s anything other than mastermind plans of mischief behind her eyes.

Joel says she has the same look in her eye that you do. Like you’re in on something the rest of the world has yet to catch up on. Twins, from the moment she stumbled ass over foot out of your body.

She talks just like you, and acts just like you, and – some nights, chatting sleepy gibberish under the slow turn of her rocket ship nightlight – you figure she must think just like you, too.

The perfect little riot.

Joel nudges you away, whispering, “Go on,” and you snicker, pushing off.

The sun combs through the room, glinting off cutlery and radiating from your daughters’ smiles. They chat and giggle and kick their feet; Sarah blows raspberries and Ellie sprays saliva all over the table when she tries to copy.

This is life, now.

You used to wake up to a silent house, sip your coffee and watch the oven clock count down the minutes until you had to leave for work.

You used to keep the radio on, even when you were out back – just to feel like someone was home with you. You used to sing to yourself as you flicked every light off at the end of the night.

Now, the laughter lives in the walls. It echoes even when you’re home alone. The oven clock counts down until there’s another pair of smaller hands in yours; until your man’s arms are back around your waist where they belong.

Come nightfall, you pluck odd socks and toy cars from under the couch. You tuck your children into bed, nuzzle your nose into their cheeks. You curl up beside Joel and trace shapes into his palm.

I love you, you write, some nights.

Dickhead, on others.

It takes a village, they all say. And sure, sometimes it does.

Sometimes, though, all it takes is two neighbors, a handshake deal, and a little bump named Duck.

“Woah, Nellie,” Joel chuckles, setting the first plate down. He clicks his teeth and taps a light knuckle on the girls’ hands, locked in a death grip. “Play nice. I got yours here, too, kiddo.”

Ellie straightens immediately. She watches, eyes fixed and glasslike, as her own breakfast is presented to her. And then she breaks into a wide grin, cheeks swelling. Her heels thud thud thud on the legs of her chair.

You lean over, cocking your head to see.

Two stacks of fluffy pancakes – a healthy dollop of chocolate spread on Sarah’s, and Ellie’s drizzled in golden syrup. Shards of strawberry and slices of banana scattered over the towers; blobs of whipped cream like clouds.

And on top of each, in clumsy sprinkle letters: Duckie and Nellie.

Sarah grins, two front teeth brand new and beautiful. She picks up her cutlery and raps them against the table, a nervous jitter about her.

You realize, just as her eyes flicker across yours, that she’s not beaming at her pancakes.

You realize, as he sways over to your side, that she’s beaming at him.

He’s holding two more plates. He sets his own down, a messy crater carved into the chocolate.

Your brows pull. “What happened –?”

“Bill happened,” he scoffs, shooting Ellie daggers.

She’s too busy tearing her stack apart, mixing a paste from syrup and cooked batter. There are few things the kid loves more than food and mess – and nothing she loves more than both at the same time.

She looks out of her mind happy, smothering the glossy mixture all over her cheeks, chewing in contentment.

“Like ‘em?” Joel asks, and you glance up.

“Yeah,” you laugh, eyes welling, “I love them. What’s the occasion, Miller?”

“Just…” his head wobbles as he considers it, “…we wanted to ask you somethin’.”

You turn to Sarah.

She’s still smiling, wider than you’ve ever seen. So bright that you worry she might shatter the glassware on the table.

“We?” you ask, smiling much the same.

She gives nothing away, and yet, at the same time – everything. Her knee bounces with excitement. Her breathing quickens.

“You wanna read yours?” Joel asks, tilting the plate in his hand.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you sniff, “I’m scared.”

He lowers the plate.

The letters blur in and out of focus as you blink.

Red, green, yellow, pink. The second M is an upside-down W. The Rs lean into each other, chocolate pushing from the middle of the letters. A question mark crafted from a C and half of another letter.

Your lungs jump, though you knew it was coming. Though you’ve talked about it for months, now.

Let’s just get it outta the way, make it easier for the girls when we’re older. Few forms to fill out then it’s done. We don’t gotta make a big deal of it.

Can’t afford to make a big deal of it, anyway.

Wouldn’t want to make a big deal of it.

You’ve never been one for big deals.

This is a big deal. This is a big fucking deal, Joel.

All multicolored, flecks of whipped cream on them. Silly little alphabet letters.

Marry me?

Joel kneels as you swivel around to him. He kisses your cheek, takes your hands, rubs his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Look,” he says, voice trembling, “I know we said we wouldn’t make a big deal of it. But…you gotta let me make a big deal of it, honey. You gotta let me make a big deal of you.”

You laugh, tears spilling down the front of your shirt. Your heart is pounding, body alight with nerves or excitement or both, in one lightning bolt of feeling.

It’s everything you ever wanted, and nothing you ever expected.

“Everything I have –” Joel says, “– the kids, the house, the dog – I found it all with you. Because of you. I love you so much, and I can’t – I can’t take another minute that we’re not…”

His hands squeeze yours, and you swear you feel your pulses align. Beating together, two hearts on the same bassline.

He swipes the tears from your cheek, catches them in his palm. “…It don’t have to mean anything, I know that – but you, darlin’…you mean everything. What do you say we go do it?”

It’s the easiest thing in the world. And not just because you knew it was coming, knew to expect it soon enough.

Joel could’ve asked you the minute you found out you were pregnant with Sarah, and you reckon you would’ve said yes.

It’s easy. Loving him is so easy. Being with him is so fucking easy.

Coffee at sunrise, low volume TV in the bedroom. Skin and sheets, marks on your neck and chest and thighs. Laughter for breakfast, homework for dinner. Two bodies squeezing into one tiny shower cubicle, Joel’s hand over your mouth to muffle your giggles.

“Today,” you whisper, cupping his jaw. “I want to do it today.”

“Today?” his eyes flash over your shoulder to his daughters, “We gotta take the girls to –”

“No, we don’t,” your head shakes, “Do we have a marriage license?”

“Got it last week.”

“Then they come with. We get all dressed up, all four of us, and head down to the courthouse. We’re married by the end of the day.”

He laughs, loose and disbelieving. Shakes himself back into the room. “Today,” he repeats. “As in, right now?”

“Right now, baby.”

“Okay. Yeah, alright. Today.”

“Ask me.”

Joel’s cheeks lift. Tears disappear into his beard.

You lean forward, lining your forehead against his. “Ask me, Miller,” you whisper.

It’s no big deal. It’s a regular Wednesday. Packed lunches and dinosaurs with Nutella in their teeth.

It’s no big deal, but when he asks you, time stops.

“Will you marry me?”

“Fuck yeah, I will.”

Sarah takes forty-five minutes to apply your mascara, some powder, and a pink lip. She promises she’s being neat, and you tell her you don’t care – you’ll love it either way.

She says she knows, but she promises she is anyway.

Ellie curls up in your lap and twists your necklace around her fingers. She asks four times if her spacesuit is dry yet.

“Ellie,” Sarah warns – and you know it’s serious when she uses her sister’s real name – “You can’t wear a costume to a wedding.”

“Mama is!”

“No she ain’t! Brides are s’posed to wear white. Mama’s dress ain’t white. What you got on is fine,” she decides.

Ellie knows better than to keep arguing. She catches her heel in her hands, huffing. “Wanted to be an ass-traut.”

You catch Sarah’s eye. Don’t.

She bites her giggle.

“You are an astronaut,” you squeeze your toddler, “Our astronaut. Whether you’re in your spacesuit, or you got your big bare butt out for us all to see.”

She giggles into herself, a sound sweet enough to convince the sun to rise at dawn. Her baby teeth are small and wonky. She snorts, settles in your arms again, and watches Sarah lean in with the lipstick.

You lift your chin, holding steady. “Is Dad ready?”

She pauses, letting go of her breath. “He says he’s been ready the last half hour,” she mutters, and dabs more color on.

“Is he nervous?”

Her eyes lift. Eyelashes long and thick – black mascara that you made her pinkie swear she’d wipe clean the moment she gets home.

She smirks. It’s like looking in a mirror. “Are you?”

You press your lips together, blending the pink. “Little bit. You think that’s a good sign?”

“Mhm.”

Sarah straightens, capping the lipstick. She smiles at her masterpiece. “You look beautiful, Mama.”

“Well,” your chest fills, “I’m only beautiful ‘cause you made me that way, Duck.”

Joel’s voice sails upstairs and into the little pink room.

“Courthouse is closin’, sun’s almost down, they’re diggin’ my damn grave already. Are we good to go, or what?”

Sarah grins and leaps over an upturned toybox in the middle of her room. She pirouettes out to the landing, pursing and then smacking her lips together.

You fix Ellie’s skirt and lead her out after her sister. “’s go, Nellie.”

“Mama,” she tugs at the fabric, “I gotta…Need…need…”

“Shit,” you whisper, watching the ballerina twirl downstairs to her dad. “Uh…Duckie?”

“Hi, pretty Duck,” Joel calls, catching her in his arms. He spins her around and the skirt of her dress billows.

Her little heels click when he lets her down. She keeps on spinning, watching herself in the mirror.

“Baby?” Joel calls. “Y’all ready?”

“Nel’s gotta go!” you reply.

He scoffs. “She nervous or som’?”

“Or som’,” you sigh, walking the kid into the bathroom.

Ellie takes about as long as a three-year-old should, to be fair to her. It requires an amount of determination that right now, neither of you have the focus to lend it. Potty training doesn’t wait up, even for weddings.

Eventually, she announces with a triumphant shout that she’s done, Mama! – and claps her hands as the toilet flushes.

You carry her downstairs, heels clunking on the solid wood. At the bottom you set her free – and she sprints out to join her sister on the lawn.

The pair run circles around one another. They cartwheel on the grass; they race Shimmer and use the flowerbeds as hurdles. They dirty their dresses – ivory stained with bursts of green – though they look better that way, anyway.

They take turns playing Swingball with the only remaining racket (a mysterious disappearance that neither will own up to, and both are most certainly involved in). Sarah tells Ellie that she won – and the smaller girl throws her fists in the air and roars in victory.

Joel stands on the porch, hands in his pockets, watching. Even from behind, you can see the shape of his cheeks: he’s smiling. He crosses one foot over the other and taps his heel against the wood.

You emerge from the house slowly, quietly. “We didn’t get matching corsages this time,” you say, and he turns.

He starts, as though he glitches for a second. As though his world tilts on its axis, just from looking at you. His expression softens, his lips curve into a smile.

Then he breathes a laugh – a shaky thing, like he’s seventeen again, watching his homecoming date saunter over.

“That’s alright,” he replies, and slips a hand into his suit pocket. He fishes out two white tulips. “Remembered Alice dropped these off the other day. Here.”

Delicately, lighter than the breeze, he tucks the flower behind your ear. He steps back to admire his work, just like his daughter did.

All the best parts of you, you reckon, are the parts that are loved by them.

“How do I look?” you ask.

Joel sucks in a shattered breath. “Beautiful,” he chokes, like it’s all his voice will allow. He sniffs, drags his knuckles across the bottom of his nose, and says, “You ain’t never looked more beautiful.”

“Your turn.”

You take the second tulip from his fingers and drop it into his breast pocket, turning it until it looks perfect. “There,” you pat his chest, “Now we both look beautiful.”

He steps forward, dipping his head to kiss you. Arms around your waist, hands splayed on your back. He laughs against your lips. “Don’t think I don’t know what this is,” he mumbles, tugging at the pale material.

“It still fits!” you say, running a palm down the smooth silk. Flashes of light, a squealing guitar, heated kisses and a thudding bassline. It spins past your eyes as he leans in again.

He tastes the same. Less alcohol, sure – but that same, sweet-as-honey, instantly intoxicating taste. Like you were a goner before you even hit the mattress.

You look back up, and Joel’s eyes are on yours.

“After two kids, it still fits,” you whisper.

“Hm,” he muses, glancing down. His hands slip around your ass. “Looks even better than it did then, Mama.”

You laugh against his lips. “It’s my something blue.”

“Oh, yeah?” He lifts an eyebrow. “What else you got?”

“Well, something borrowed –” you hold your left hand up, a plastic ring glinting in the sunlight, “– Duck gave me some of her finest jewelry. Something new –” you wiggle your earlobe, “– Mother’s Day earrings, and…something old…”

Joel tilts his head. His expression tightens, tightens, tightens – until he understands. He clicks his teeth and steps back. “Funny. You’re so funny, I ever tell you that?”

You giggle, letting him drag you across the porch. “I’m just bein’ realistic, man. What else do I got that’s as old as you?”

He ignores you. It makes you laugh even harder.

It always did.

The wind surfs through silk, lifting your skirt as you stride over the driveway. Your hands stay interlocked – and you know that, secretly, Joel’s as nervous as you.

He whistles and his daughters look up.

“Serena, Venus,” he calls, nodding to the truck. “Get in.”

They skip over. Sarah takes her dad’s hand – the picture of royalty as he aids her up into the backseat – and Ellie swings into your arms.

You strap them in, point fingers to warn them not to bicker, and climb in the front.

The doors slam closed and you exhale slowly. Two kids aren’t any more complicated than one – especially in yours and Joel’s case – but holy shit, they’re tiring.

They compare dresses in the backseat. What color is yours, Duck? Pink, Nel. Is mine’s pink, Duck? Yours is yellow, Nel.

Joel’s hand slips around your knee. He smiles. Gives your leg a little squeeze. He flicks the radio on, and an Eagles track sways through the cabin. He fixes the tulip in your hair, peppers kisses along your wrist.

His voice is as soft as Henley’s, when he asks –

“Wanna go to a wedding?”

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

the lords in black are so interesting to me because. they’re so us. we’re watching the citizens of hatchetfield suffer for our own entertainment just as much as they are. we’re their accomplices in all of it

pokotho made hatchetfield into a musical because musicals are entertaining. and we ate that shit up! it’s soooo fun watching a little man scramble as the world around him bursts into song. the musical genre is satirized because pokey knows how the genre conventions work just as well as we do. we like watching musicals so much that black friday and npmd are musicals, too, even though they don’t revolve around pokotho’s plans as much as tgwdlm. we want them to sing. pokotho does too.

bliklotep is the audience and the audience is bliklotep. trail to oregon calls the audience “the watcher with one thousand eyes” and that’s not all, in watcher world blinky seems to be able to see through the eyes of anyone and everyone who loves spectacle. he wants to see the characters go through angst because WE love angst. it’s fun to watch alice and bill express their buried frustrations. blinky wants it to end in bloodshed because he loves tragedy, and let’s face it, so do we. it’s like that one post about how hamlet is aware of the audience and is angry that we don’t do anything to intervene because we want to see how it plays out. personally, I think blinky could have stopped the woodwards if he really wanted (he’s an elder god, after all) but alice shooting him shifted the narrative so that the emotional payoff would be more fulfilling if they escaped. and blinky loves a good story.

t’noy karaxis has blorbos. we joke about it, but that’s really what it is, isn’t it? he’s the fan who watches the movie again and again and again and again to see his favorite character’s dramatic death scene. he’s the guy who writes and reads angst fics by the hundreds because he likes to see his faves cry. he’s the hatchetfield enjoyer who’s on the edge of their seat waiting to see how ted kicks the bucket this time. the bastard’s box is pretty much just an ao3 account filled with whump and hurt no comfort. he’s sadistic AND he genuinely adores ted, because we fans are often cruelest to the characters we love the most. he puts ted through character growth— the realization that his life went the way it did because of his own mistakes, his inability to be vulnerable with jenny before it was too late— and he does that by writing a 56-chapter angst fic that’s still updating to this day

nibblenephim is the fan who voraciously devours every scrap of content that a creator produces and demands more, more, more. let’s face it, the fandom will never let starkid rest until we see this story through to its end. and then someone will demand a sequel series. nibbly is hungry because we will never stop yearning for more stories. he’s simple because that desire itself is simple— as humans, we need creativity like we need air to breathe. nibbly wants more because we want more. and we will never be satiated.

wiggog y’rath is the ruler and the king because he’s the self-inserting writer. I think jon matteson plays paul *and* wiggly for a reason— wiggly is the only lord in black to be played by the same actor in every single show, and that actor also plays the protagonist of tgwdlm. wiggly wants to be the protagonist. he tries to force himself into the human world of hatchetfield because he wants to participate, dammit! he wants to be the bestest ruler that the earth has ever seen! everyone has to love him because he’s going to be their bestest fwiend! when he appears in human form he’s gonna be the prom king! he’s the ebony dark’ness dementia raven way of the hatchetfield multiverse. he wants every human character to bend to his whims and to love him and to put him at the tippy-top of planet earth because he’s the writer and the writer’s main character, you fuckheads, and he can make whatever story he wants, whether the other characters like it or not! if you’ve ever written a self-insert story? congratulations! you’ve been wiggog y’rath.

and the funny thing? I don’t think the lords know that they, too, are as fictional as anyone else in hatchetfield. maybe blinky knows— he sees through the audience’s eyes, after all— but I don’t think the others do. if they did, maybe they’d be a little less tyrannical. a little bit nicer.

but then the starkid writers wouldn’t have much of a story to tell, would they?

[lunaeriastrail]

Random astrological observations 1/?

a libra rising is known for giving heart fluttering compliments that will make the receiver remember it for a long time. they really are equipped with the rightful words to say something about someone. favorite ex energy. loves to spoil their loved ones. they pay for the bills. a night out with a libra rising is very fun even if you two are just talking in one spot.

an aquarius mars thrives in the corporate world, especially when given a position requiring independence, flexibility in work schedules, and working with the use of technology.

skateboarders have pisces in their personal planets especially in the moon, or their rising sign is aspecting neptune.

cancers are edgier than scorpios and capricorns.

a cancer moon conjuncting with saturn indicates someone who lived with their grandparents for a long time. if in the same element as your venus, you could inherit your grandparents' especially grandmother's jewelries, and clothing + other fashion items. also they may taught you how to cook at a young age. that's why if you're in a friendgroup you also tend to be the one who is cooking and looking out for everyone.

leo risings are susceptible of energy vampires due to them being ruled by the sun. people can be moths hanging around your flame/light. unevolved leo suns are most likely be the one to rely on others too much or seeks others' validation greatly, this is why they can also fear rejection and abandonment.

virgo/pisces, gemini/sagittarius are naturally born as master manifestors, but they can have troubles utilizing and finding out about this due to them either dreaming too hard but no work being done, or working too hard but having no definite goals.