#BY THE WAY THIS IS NOT A BILL HATE POST IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE

[mbat]

i literally read the book of bill days ago but its only now kinda hitting me how fucked ford and bills whole thing was though cause ford literally talks about being so unable to sleep (to try to keep bill away), and when sleep inevitably caught up to him, he would wake up to his body abused and things messed with and he just couldnt seem to find an escape (and he literally didnt get to truly escape until 30 years later)

(also keeping people awake for unhealthily long periods of time is another tactic used to mess with and control people because of how it impairs brain function)

listing off the things we see in those few pages in the book of bill:

i mean, punching and scratching at a steel door for hours would be so damaging to your hands and probably hurt like hell for at least 2 days after. then bill says he was hitting fords head against a wall, though its said in a post-it as if its a joke, but he also isnt exactly above doing that, and honestly he says most things like its a joke.

i also dont need to say 'bill really doesnt know how to take no for an answer' because he makes that very clear in literally any interaction we see with him.

bill literally puts a venomous snake near ford while fords asleep, which could have killed him if he wasnt lucky+skilled enough to deal with it.

he nearly gives ford hypothermia, and in the same action actively threatens ford with the idea of making him jump off of a high spot, and like ford says, doesnt do it just so he can send a message to ford about how hes the one in control.

he gets ford in trouble with not only the law, but also with other people that are probably not very happy with him after. he mutilates fords body in several ways, and i dont think i need to go into detail on them because theyre... so ew. and he even exposes part of fords body to the world. like, its just taking his shirt off, but thats still showing off his body in a way that he didnt agree to or want

and then he attempts to (or purposefully fails to) call stan, using fords voice to threaten suicide and tell stan that ford never loved him.

and he punctuates it with a final power move, in a hallucination that he creates, hes messing with stans memories and making him feel like his body was basically about to implode

and like. okay, we all joke about toxic old man yaoi, and its a good joke and toxic old man yaoi is great and its an interesting ship, but holy fuck.

like. to say the absolute least, that had to be so, so deeply violating. its no wonder that when we see ford in the past, when he finally contacts stan, he looks like hes on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. he just went through, and still wasnt yet out of, some deeply abusive shit.

like... everything coming out lately both in this book and what ive heard is on the website, mixed with what we already knew from the show itself... the stans are both so, so fucking tragic dude. their whole lives were thrown away over things that really didnt even need to be the way they were, and then they both get into situations that are pretty damn screwed, and those situations follow them for the rest of their lives. its basically a miracle that things worked out in the end for them.

i dont really have a point, i just had to talk about all that. i read almost all of the book of bill in one sitting, and while i was really enjoying it, i was also getting kind of tired of sitting in one spot only doing this one thing for several hours straight. i still felt a lot of the emotional bits of it of course, but man this part specifically just really didnt hit me until now.

i mean, to say the absolute least, i know what its like to feel violated in a similar way, though not anywhere near to the extent of what he went through at all. someone get that man some therapy got damn

[wilwheaton]

The GOP wonders why young people (and others) don't want to vote for them. Some wise scribe assembled this list.

1.) Your Reagan-era “trickle-down economics” strategy of tax breaks for billionaires that you continue to employ to this day has widened the gap between rich and poor so much that most of them will never be able to own a home, much less earn a living wage.

2.) You refuse to increase the federal minimum wage, which is still $7.25 an hour (since 2009). Even if it had just kept up with inflation, it would be $27 now. You’re forcing people of all ages but especially young people to work multiple jobs just to afford basic necessities.

3.) You fundamentally oppose and want to kill democracy; have done everything in your power to restrict access to the ballot box, particularly in areas with demographics that tend to vote Democratic (like young people and POC). You staged a fucking coup the last time you lost.

4.) You have abused your disproportionate senate control over the last three decades to pack the courts with religious extremists and idealogues, including SCOTUS—which has rolled back rights for women in ways that do nothing but kill more women and children and expand poverty.

5.) You refuse to enact common sense gun control laws to curb mass shootings like universal background checks and banning assault weapons; subjecting their entire generation to school shootings and drills that are traumatizing in and of themselves. You are owned by the NRA.

6.) You are unequivocally against combatting climate change to the extent that it’s as if you’ve made it your personal mission to ensure they inherit a planet that is beyond the point of no return in terms of remaining habitable for the human race beyond the next few generations.

7.) You oppose all programs that provide assistance to those who need it most. Your governors refused to expand Medicaid even during A PANDEMIC. You are against free school lunches, despite it being the only meal that millions of children can count on to actually receive each day

8.) You are banning books, defunding libraries, barring subject matter, and whitewashing history even more in a fascistic attempt to keep them ignorant of the systemic racism that this nation was literally founded upon and continues to this day in every action your party takes.

9.) You oppose universal healthcare and are still trying to repeal the ACA and rip healthcare from tens of millions of Americans and replace it with nothing. You are against lowering the cost of insulin and prescription drugs that millions need simply to LIVE/FUNCTION in society.

10.) You embrace white nationalists, Neo-Nazis, and other groups that are defined by their intractable racism, xenophobia, bigotry, and intolerance. You conspired with these groups on January 6th to try to overthrow the U.S. government via domestic terrorism that KILLED PEOPLE.

11.) You oppose every bill aimed at making life better for our nation’s youth; from education to extracurricular and financial/nutritional assistance programs. You say you want to “protect the children” while you elect/nominate pedophiles and attack trans youth and drag queens.

12.) You pretend to be offended by “anti-semitism” while literally supporting, electing, and speaking at events organized by Nazis. You pretend to hate “cancel culture” despite the fact that you invented it and it’s basically all you do.

13.) Every word you utter is a lie. You are the party of treason, hypocrisy, crime, and authoritarianism. You want to entrench rule by your aging minority because you know that you have nothing to offer young voters and they will never support you for all these reasons and more.

14.) You’re so hostile to even the notion of helping us overcome the mountain of debt that millions of us are forced to take on just to pay for our post K-12 education that you are suing to try to prevent a small fraction of us from getting even $10,000 in loan forgiveness.

15.) You opened the floodgates of money into politics via Citizens United; allowing our entire system of government to become a cesspool of corruption, crime, and greed. You are supposed to represent the American people whose taxes pay your salary but instead cater to rich donors.

16.) You respond to elected representatives standing in solidarity with their constituents to protest the ONGOING SLAUGHTER of children in schools via shootings by EXPELLING THEM FROM OFFICE & respond to your lack of popularity among young people by trying to raise the voting age.

17.) You impeach Democratic presidents over lying about a BJ but refuse to impeach (then vote twice to acquit) a guy whose entire “administration” was an international crime syndicate being run out of the WH who incited an insurrection to have you killed.

18.) You steal Supreme Court seats from democrats to prevent the only black POTUS we’ve ever had from appointing one and invent fake precedents that you later ignore all to take fundamental rights from Americans; and even your “legitimate” appointments consist of people like THIS (sub-thread refuting CJ Roberts criticisms of people attacking SCOTUS' legitimacy).

19.) You support mass incarceration even for innocuous offenses or execution by cop for POC while doing nothing but protect rich white criminals who engage in such things as tax fraud, money laundering, sex trafficking, rape/sexual assault, falsifying business records, etc.

20.) You are the reason we can’t pass:—Universal background checks—An assault weapons ban—The ‘For the People/Freedom to vote’ Act or John Lewis Voting Rights Act—The ERA & Equality Act—The Climate Action Now Act—The (Stopping) Violence Against Women Act—SCOTUS expansion.

21.) You do not seek office to govern, represent, or serve the American people. You seek power solely for its own sake so you can impose your narrow-minded puritanical will on others at the expense of their most fundamental rights and freedoms like voting and bodily autonomy.

22.) Ok, last one. You are trying to eliminate social security and Medicare that tens of millions of our parents rely on and paid into their entire lives. And you did everything to maximize preventable deaths from COVID leaving millions of us in mourning.

Source: https://imgur.com/gallery/e8DBZLH

[kumabeom]

you’re losing me - beomgyu

summary : beomgyu lost the love of his life. because of his own actions

wc: 1.5k, beomgyu x reader, taehyun x reader, beomie isn’t a good person, cheating

you didn’t expect it at all. two days without your boyfriend. your clingy boyfriend, the same man who claimed he couldn’t go two hours without you. and it wasn’t like anything was holding you back. if you remembered correctly, you visited him in the morning just a day ago, knocking on the door and being met with no response. just a worrying silence befalling the atmosphere around you.

no messages. no calls. nothing.

and just now, he was returning to your home like nothing happened. a small greeting falling from his lips before deciding to wrap his arms around you and join you on the couch to watch some movie. he didn’t say anything, not even when you asked him about what happened. lies splurging from his mouth. something about work and needing to work overtime. not even bothering to explain why he hadn’t even picked up the phone. instead he just— laid there with you. and you accepted it. you accepted the way that he was being distant.

meaning that beomgyu wasn’t going to change his ways.

why would he? if he didn’t face any consequences, there was no reason to change his behavior.

so when you went 4 nights without hearing a single word from your lover. small lettering under your messages that read, “read”. you shrugged it off, knowing that he was at least a bit safe. and even though it seemed like you were keeping a strong and confident act, you felt your heart beginning to chip away. small empty holes with nothing to fill them up with. the joy that you once felt from seeing beomgyu started to dissipate.

but it was always okay in the end.

he eventually came around. whether it took a week or longer.

his absence became more.. consistent.

two days without beomgyu turned into five days. which eventually turned into weeks.

but as long as the warmth that emitted from his chest was against you at some point. you felt like you had no right to complain.

even if he was posting on instagram actively, reading your messages, but never giving a response.

sweet whispers of promises being softly spoken in your ear, promises that he’d make up all the time lost to you on some lavish date night. one where he promised to spend all night committing himself and his time to you.

but when that night came. ten minutes turned into twenty. which somehow became an hour. the waiter’s pity filled glare eventually brought you to your senses. leaving a bill at the table and packing your things up, leaving. exiting the stupidly luxurious restaurant. the ridiculously overpriced dress that you had on was ripped off and replaced with the comfortable pajamas that you found lying around your home.

when beomgyu showed up the next day, he didn’t even mention the date the two of you had set the day before. showing up like nothing had happened. the man who once cared so much about you, was now gone. the loving stares that you were used to being met with were replaced with cold shoulders.

small gestures that beomgyu used to show you as an act of love were all gone. he no longer took the time to spare time for your weekly movie night. he never offered to do you the small, yet irritable chores that you hated doing. he no longer let you wake up to the smell of a sweet breakfast. the small actions of affection were so rare to fall victim to.

the lack of small kisses splattered all over your body, no longer experiencing the slight electric sensation that caused you to become absolutely flustered. the two of you rarely ever went on a date, and when you did, it was after spending hours waiting for him to even remember to show up.

you couldn’t help but wonder if beomgyu had been cheating on you. the sudden excuses to leave after he took a singular look at his phone.

the weird messages that he would get that yelled out loud to you. flirty little pick up lines showing up on the screen of his phone. sudden “work meetings” coming up out of nowhere.

so when you asked beomgyu to meet you at your apartment, he didn’t really know what to expect. you had stuck by his side for months, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. he showed up hours later than you had asked him to, even though you expected it. that hadn’t meant that it didn’t hurt any less. tears dripping down your face. quivering bottom lip tucked by your upper teeth. the feeling of pain spreading through your body.

attempting to discard of your tears as beomgyu popped into your apartment. no words being exchanged to comfort you, he could tell you’d been crying, but usually when he saw you crying, you usually came around. because for some reason. you always came back to him. his lack of effort in the relationship, yet you always came back to him. to the cold atmosphere that he now set between the two of you.

“i think we should break up..” you muttered, glossy eyes looking down.

“why?” was all he could say. he never thought he’d feel it. he never thought he could feel the amount of anxiety that currently felt like it was piercing his heart. he was immune to it. at least that’s what he thought.

“this relationship is so one sided..” beomgyu immediately knew what you were talking about. the way you had spent restless nights wondering if he was ever going to make it home. the amount of times that your calls went straight to voicemail as you wondered if he was ever going to show up to what the two of you had planned.

“okay.” it angered you even more to see that beomgyu had no kind of argument against your decision. did he really want nothing to do with you. had he been cheating on you, and was he waiting for this opportunity to appear, so that he could leave a suffocating relationship.

he really didn’t love you. you believed it. you truly believed it. he silently walked off, leaving you alone in a weeping state. sobs falling from your mouth, translucent tears streaming down your face. soaking in sorrowful tears, basking in a weeping pity full mess.

it took you a while.

a while to stop mourning over the absence of someone so important to you. to realize that you had no reason to care for a relationship that was only ever one sided. but eventually, you were convinced. convinced that you were over beomgyu and his rather toxic habits.

beomgyu thought that it would’ve been easy. if he didn’t give any effort into a relationship, then surely it wouldn’t have bothered him to move on.

either way, beomgyu had been talking to someone. he wouldn’t consider it cheating. there were no romantic acts involved. except for the occasional kissing, sleepy nights spent together, cute small dates planned together. all while you were bawling your eyes out.

so why was it? why was it that beomgyu found himself thinking about you while still with his newfound lover. the person he claimed would save him from his horrible relationship. he often thought about the way that he was the reason for everything going wrong. you always tried. but he never did.

beomgyu still lurked around and would often times see what you posted on social media. small, indirect quotes targeted towards him. music lyrics indirectly describing your heartbroken state. but one day. he noticed that it all changed.

happy song lyrics.

cute emojis posted with outdoor pictures.

happy lyrics slowly turning into more loving, romantic wording.

posting pictures of two items. out getting coffee ? there were always two coffees. out getting ice cream? there were always two cones.

pictures of the largest and most beautiful bouquets being displayed.

a kiss mark on the back of someone’s hand.

two hands grasped together.

“happy one year anniversary my love <3.”

those words stuck out to beomgyu like a sore thumb. and when the story disappeared on his screen, he clicked on your profile once again. leading him to the screen he was just at. noticing that your lips were directly placed on taehyun’s cheek. his friend. his own friend.

two years after the two of you broke up. and now it was your one year anniversary with taehyun.

beomgyu could get mad as much as he wanted. but at the end of the day— it was his fault. it was always his fault.

it was his fault that he changed, that he started cheating. finding joy in such a forbidden way. leaving you stranded with no one to help you.

and when someone did help you.

he was angry. angry that taehyun did what he couldn’t. upset over the fact that taehyun had his hands on something that was once his.

taehyun had your love.

something that beomgyu had. until he selfishly threw away your relationship for his own pleasure.

©️kumabeom

permanent taglist : @run2seob @soobadooba @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @tinyelfperson @strwbrrykthv @bloomngspring @bamgeutori (send asks !!)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A week passes in a tense slog. Barrett continues his pandering penance and you wallow in irritation. You want to put it behind you. You want to get past it but every time you do, it just happens again.

If this was the first time, it would be easy but you’ve lost count of all the times you’ve had this fight. 

Your menial office work does little to distract. It only allows you to think about all the bullshit. The way Barrett dismisses everything you do and has to list of everything you don’t. The way he can’t see his own flaws or how you’ve never once rubbed his nose in them like a dog.  

Is it passive or weak or just acceptance? You can’t say. You just always put up with it.  It’s just easier not to make an issue of every little thing. Problem is, now it’s a big thing. 

When you come home, you’re worn out but you still have work to do. Dishes, tidying, cooking. Even your weekends don’t allow you must rest. You need to sort through the bills and go get groceries. All along the way, he’s in the way. You’re not sure he’s trying to help, more so trying to force his way to forgiveness. 

You grab a bundle of reusable shopping bags from the cupboard overflowing with them. It only took about a hundred of the things to start remembering to take them with you.  

As you shut the cupboard, Barrett’s on the other side of the oven. Watching and waiting. He’d be a lot more help if you didn’t have to tell him what to do. You forgot a mug and to him, that’s high crime, but he can’t remember to pay the power bill without six texts on the due date. 

“So... what’s going on today?” He smiles. 

It used to be that that smile made you melt. It would make all your troubles flutter away like butterflies. Now it’s just another irk. 

“Groceries.” You wave the fistful of bags. 

“Oh, cool, want me to come?” 

You nearly scoff. Every weekend you ask and every weekend he’s too busy. His pals want him to jam in their garage band or go fishing down at some dirty river. Another tick on the wrong side of the Pros-Cons list. 

“Sure,” you shrug. It’s easier to just let him come along. You don’t need another argument and you could use the extra hands. 

You shove the bags into the folded shopping cart and put your shoes on. He toddles behind like a lost child. You’re repress a glare as you grab your keys and purse. You’re going to have to talk this out sooner than later our you’re really going to hate him. 

He follows you out to the bus stop and you wait in silence. You had a car but it broke down last year. Ever since, he gets a ride off his coworkers or friends and you flash your bus pass. It’s cheaper than leasing a car, even a used one. 

You don’t know what stresses you out more; thinking about all the stuff he does or just thinking about your life. You get on the bus and sit near the back. He reaches over to grab your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. 

“Nice day,” he says. 

“Mhmm,” you grumble. 

His attempt at small talk doesn’t go much further. You get off at your stop and walk the block to the grocery store. You unfold your shopping cart and pull out your list. Barrett grabs a bag of gummy bears and dumps them in the cart. 

“Those aren’t on the list,” you say. 

“I know but it’ll be a nice treat for later. We’ll have some tonight after dinner.” 

“Oh, alright.” 

You factor in the extra cost and mentally cross off the avocado from the list. You can go without. You roll through the produce section and work your way down the list. Barrett trails behind you. 

You stop in the cereal aisle to grab a bag of oatmeal. As you stand, you flinch and cry out at a surprise peck on your cheek. Barrett puts his arm around your shoulder as he presses his lips against you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“Baby, giving you a kiss.” You look at him and he grins, “I miss you. I love you. I’m tryna be better, honey.” 

“In the grocery store?” You challenge. 

“It’s cute.” 

“Mm, it’s... let’s wait ‘til we get outta here. It’s starting to get busy.” You glance around at the other customers, hoping none of them noticed his little act. “How about you go grab some drumsticks? Flyer says they’re on sale.” 

“Oh, I can do that. Be right back!” He proclaims. 

He shuffles off and you shake your head and turn back to the shelves. The store brand on discount is all out. You hiss in disappointment. You search the rest of the selection. That’s the cheapest on the shelf and you really can’t stretch the extra dollar. 

You look up at the overstock along the top. It’s right up there but you’re just too short to reach. You give a poor attempt then stand flat on your feet. You peer up and down the aisle. You could find an employee. 

“Need some help?”  

You turn to face the stranger and give a start. They aren’t so strange after all. You know him. Well, not know-know him. Everyone in the city knows Steve Rogers, the Captain America. 

“Uhhh...” 

“What’s your brand?” He asks. “They don’t run restock until before closing. I usually come then, less busy but I got... ha, sorry, I’m rambling. What can I grab for you?” 

You lick your dry lips and glance at the shelf. You appreciate the help but telling Captain America that you need the cheapest bag on the shelf isn’t exactly dignified. You point to the price tag on the shelf and he reaches on his toes to grab the edge of the box on the top. He wiggles out a bag and stands flat. 

“Here,” he offers it with a handsome smile. “You know, it’s made at the same factory as the regular brand.” He taps the back of the bag, “exact same address. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re from the same lot.” 

“Oh, well, er... thanks,” you take the oats and put them in your cart. 

“No problem. Sometimes being a hero isn’t very glorious. Sometimes it’s just reaching the top shelf.” 

You force a chuckle. You’re sure the Cap’s life is all sunshine and rainbows. Must be a real ego boost to help the little people. 

“Well, I appreciate it, Captain.” 

“Steve,” he smirks and stares. Your lower your brows and look behind you. Is he looking at someone else? 

“Oh, of course. I should go find my husband.” You roll around him and try to shake off the awkward encounter. You look down at your list as you stop at the end of the aisle. 

“Hope he’s not lost...” Steve calls after you. He says your name and you crane to look at him. You meet his gaze and blanch. He turns and struts off without another word. 

You turn back to your path and slowly leave the aisle. How did he know your name? You replay the interaction and try to recall giving it but you can’t. Well, you’re not exactly thinking straight right now. It’s nothing. You’re just stressed. 

[a-very-tired-jew]

So we all saw the MIT sukkah and how bad that was.

Are you ready for NYU’s?

Because not only is it bad, but the persons behind it are either Jews with no connection whatsoever to their culture and can’t be bothered to do a basic fact check or it’s goyim who can’t be bothered to do a basic fact check.

That’s right. It says “l’chaim intifada” on their post. Yes, the structure is made out of wood. Good job for not using an event tent as the base like MIT. But you've built it under a tree, a no-no, and just said “To life intifada” on your “solidarity” sukkah poster.

That’s as bad as the backwards Hebrew.

It’s a nonsense phrase and makes no sense.

So what else is in the post?

Points 1 through 3 are standard for these organizations. Others that have more experience regarding the legalities of these asks have broken down why it won't happen for 1 and 2.

Point 3 is just xenophobic and discriminatory, and shows the hypocrisy of these orgs. I hate whataboutisms, but this same academic boycott is not being held for other countries that have committed or are committing comparable or worse actions. I have not seen calls to boycott Russian, Chinese, or Iranian academics and condemn research alliances or remote campuses.

Why is it only Israel?

(we know why)

Points 4 and 5 are what we expect as well. But here's the thing. Point 4? So much research and innovation comes through military contracts and funding. Medical entomology alone is reliant on massive funding from the military and was actually established by the US Military as well. The break throughs in treatments for vectored diseases typically come from their projects.

This is going to piss people off. But cutting funding projects that are associated with our military industrial complex is actually really bad for innovation, research, and scientific advancement.

"They can get the funds elsewhere".

No the fuck they cannot. Tell me you know nothing about research in academia without telling me.

But sure, cut funding to things associated with the MI-complex. I'm sure the DHS and DOD projects that are working on medical innovations will definitely help "Free Palestine".

Point 5 states it is "No Normalization", but the text reads more that they want to undo the Find Out portion of the Fuck Around they've been doing all year. As well as redefine antisemitism the way they want so that their dog whistles can be allowed and then it gets to the normalization thing. Which is just a way of saying they don't want peace. I'm not surprised as normalization processes lead to peace, and these groups don't want that. We've seen them eschew peace repeatedly and endorse violence.

But they'll tell you they're a peace movement.

Point 6 is just odd to include. 1 through 5 are standard, but 6 gets into the academic pay scale and structure and that just feels tacked on. It's trying to put a rider to ban abortion at the back end of the agricultural bill. It's trying to say "while I have you attention, also this."

I'll be the first one to say the academic pay structure is fucked and needs to be overhauled (The Cali University system has had multiple protests because Professors can't afford to even live in the cities they teach in). But putting pay structure issues onto this is just "everything relates to Gaza!" nonsense. We've seen countless occurrences of these activists trying to link any and every movement and concern to I/P throughout the year and it's just ridiculous.

Also note the text "expanding further into the city and across the globe" makes it seem like they view the university they are attending as a colonizer as well. If such is the case, and they're against colonization as vehemently as they attest to, then why are they still attending as their tuition is funding colonization? Yes, this is a "why don't you leave" argument, but they have the option to drop out or transfer. It's not leaving the USA, it's leaving or changing schools (and that's much more doable).

Point 7 isn't really a point. It's the same thing we've seen from anti-Israel groups across college campuses in the USA a long time. The problem is that they deny Zionism/Zionist has become a major dog whistle that has a history of being one ever since the Soviet era. Is every instance of anti-Zionism antisemitism? Of course not. But because major antisemitism groups, militias, and governments have used it for decades as a cover it is often viewed as such.

There's no denying that.

The problem is that you have college kids who are earnest in their beliefs that they don't see how they're being manipulated to use said dog whistles. It's especially worse when it comes to anti-Zionist Jews because they will say/endorse absolutely horrendous antisemitic rhetoric while justifying it through "Don't worry, I'm a Jew".

Unfortunately the sukkah they've built and the "L'chaim Intifada" brings in to question how Jewish they are. Even secular Jews would know that L'chaim means "To Life" by simply existing within our culture. So they're either extremely detached and didn't fact check, they're religious Jews who don't know enough Hebrew and didn't fact check, or they're goyim who are cosplaying as Jews and didn't fact check.

Initially I was leaning towards the detached as being behind this as I personally know several detached Jews who are using their ethnicity to defend antisemitism in NYC and by these groups. And because this is NYU it's more than likely that detached Leftist Jews are behind this with support from goyim than simply goyim alone. Which shows how little is know of our culture in general and means they really shouldn't be relied upon as arbiters of what is offensive to Jews and what isn't.

However, there is nothing Jewish about what they post. They even have photos of them in the sukkah and there's not a single kippah in sight. It's all keffiyehs. You'd think that if they wanted to show solidarity there'd be some variation in garb. You'd think that if they wanted to show that Jewish religious traditions and culture are welcoming that you'd have some visibly Jewish persons in your sukkah sitting side by side with keffiyeh wearing activists in this "solidarity sukkah"

But there's not.

Now this isn't to say I know who is behind this group, who the members are, or what the agenda is.

But this organization has only existed since November 2023, regularly cross posts with NYU SJP, and endorsed/justified 10/7 as well as the anniversary events celebrating it.

Come to your own conclusions as you will, but I know what I think.

[inbarfink]

It’s really fascinating to compare the way Agatha handles the Heterodyne Legacy compared to her father and uncle. Because these are the two known generations of ‘Heroic’ Heterodynes after a long, long legacy of the Heterodyne family being known primarily as Evil Bastards - but they have such a totally opposite relationship with that villainous legacy.

Bill and Barry grew up deep inside that Evil Heterodyne Legacy and know all about how truly rotten it really is. Their father was an Old Heterodyne to the bone and an Extremely Reprehensible Human Being. Like, not just Cartoon Evil Overlord stuff - according to the Novels, he forced Bill and Barry’s mom to marry him by threatening her family. And he tried to kill them because they weren’t evil enough to his tastes. 

And when their mom killed him to protect her sons, the Castle killed her in retaliation. The very manifestation of the Heterodyne Legacy has cost them their beloved mother who just saved their life. And all of this in addition to the fact a non-evil Heterodyne was really an unthinkable concept when the Boys started - meaning they had to work extra hard to distance themselves from their family if they wanted anyone outside of Mechanicsburg to trust them.

And Heterodyne Boys worked very very hard to prove to the world that they’re not monsters. Both to fight off against the constant suspicions that they were monsters, and because they most likely wanted as little to do with their father’s legacy as Spark-ly possible. For them the Heterodyne Legacy was mostly kind of a Curse, the thing that tormented their mother and killed her and almost killed them, the thing that makes people wary of them.

And as such, they distanced themselves from anything that’s even remotely to do with that old legacy of monsters, from anything evil or scary or messy or ugly. Much to the chagrin of the Castle, the House of Heterodyne’s many other monsters, the Jager Horde Mechanicsburg’s proud Evil Minion population and many others who felt abandoned by them for the sake of PR.

Then there’s Agatha Heterodyne. And it’s not just that Agatha grew up in a post-Heterodyne-Boys world where the general populace associates the family name less with evil barbarous mad kings and more with good-natured heroism. Where even those who remember the Old Heterodynes are at least willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Where even those who would like her to be like the Old Heterodynes are at least willing to give her some wiggle room to express herself....

It is all of that, but more importantly Agatha didn’t grow up as a Heterodyne at all.

She grew up as Agatha Clay, with the Spark-Suppressing Locket that dulled her mind and made her a miserable klutzy mess who couldn’t do anything right. She grew up hating the constant feeling of being powerless.

And discovering that she’s a Heterodyne came up… pretty close to realizing she’s a Spark, and both of these revelations gave her a certain kind of Power that she never got to have before. She is now both a powerful Spark and a powerful political player in this grand Europa political chess board. 

And as much as she has the same heroic values and upbringing as the Boys did (courtesy of Barry and the Construct Duo), not growing up so up-close-and-personal with the worst consequences of the Old Heterodyne’s evil means she’s not as immediately repulsed by it like the Boys were. 

She encountered all of these old monstrous pieces of the Heterodyne Legacy - the Jagers, the Castle, Mechanicsburg, even just the fear her name can put into people’s hearts - not as the Evil Legacy Forced Upon Her. But stuff that was taken away from her, and she had to earn back. And in a world stacked so heavily against her, so determined to rob her of her agency and newfound sense of power, these things represent the assertion and security of her power.

For the Heterodyne Boys, the worst thing they could ever imagine being was monsters - like their father and the rest of their family was. For Agatha Heterodyne, the worst thing she could imagine is being powerless again. She would take being seen as a monster a thousand times over being condescended and ignored ever again. 

Being seen as a monster isn’t actually all that bad at all, she discovered. 

All of these things together make Agatha not quite the second generation of Actually Heroic Heterodyne or just another link in the Old Heterodyne Legacy - but another new kind of Heterodyne altogether. One that can both retain a moral code and embrace the family’s monstreness at the same time. 

[ckret2]

Long time lurker, first time asker!

How do you keep different voices/characters in your fics so distinct? I'm writing my first longer than 2k word fic and it's... a time.

First, I'm going to link you the best essay I've ever read about How To Write Canon Character Voices—what's too much accent, what's too little, how to pay attention to word choice and the way they phrase things, etc. It's about Transformers but the skills are transferrable to other fandoms (or original writing). The original essay is down so all I can offer is the archive.org version, but it's worth it.

Second, I'm going to link you this post I wrote about how I study character voices. It's about Hazbin but it shows you the kinds of things I pay attention to when I'm learning a character voice.

Third, I'm going to offer you some extra general advice that isn't in the above posts:

Some people try to make characters sound like themselves by basically parroting their catch phrases or most common quotes. Do that and you're just gonna make your version of the character sound like a robot. (Note: if you're writing a character who only knows how to say a few quotes, that's okay lmao.) The readers already know what the characters said in canon, they're reading a fic to hear them say something new. Example: if you have Bill Cipher arrive on the scene and say "Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me!" word-for-word, you don't sound like you're writing Bill, you sound like you're quoting Bill from That One Scene where He Said That Thing.

But... directly borrowing characters' quotes is kind of a stepping stone on the way toward figuring out how they speak. Think about things they've already said, but use those quotes as a guide for how to write them.

Example: from that quote above, we get that when Bill shows up around people who definitely did NOT miss him, he just... decides that they did and tells them so. This shows you a bit of his sense of humor (he makes jokes to annoy someone who hates him—it's not even a mean joke, just annoying), a bit of his ego (he knows he's clowning around, but even when he's clowning he's going to say something that makes himself sound popular rather than hated), his casual & familiar attitude with someone he barely knows, his tendency to just request people do what he wants (saying "admit it, you missed me" instead of something like "I know you missed me")... etc.

And I kinda already said this in the Hazbin post, but the most important thing you can do when you're struggling with a character voice is just rewatch their episodes and pay close attention to how they speak (or rewatch their movie scenes, or reread their chapters/comic issues—whatever you're writing about). If they're from a visual/audio medium (TV, movie, podcast, etc), then if need be, read transcripts to see how their voices look when written down. Type down the transcripts yourself if there aren't any—and that's also a good physical exercise to make you slow down and pay attention to how they speak. (You notice where they tend to pause in sentences when you're the one who has to decide where to put commas; you notice their accent when you're the one who has to decide whether that word sounds more like walking or walkin'.)

Pay attention to cadence, accent, interjections, sentence length, active voice, passive voice, preferred vocabulary, preferred slang, word choice, sentence length, sentence complexity, any phrases they're fond of (but again—don't overuse a phrase unless they overuse a phrase), how they tend to refer to the people around them (by first name, last name, any titles, any nicknames—and do they change in different contexts?)... Pay attention to anything you can think of. You want to be able to hear the character's voice clearly in your head—read everything you write in their voice, and if it doesn't sound like their voice in your head, change it.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi hi hi!! first of all, i'm so fascinated with how your mind works. seeing your theories, metas, and explanations actually inspired me to read the books (even if they're off of this slightly dodgy website lol). i've read some of your thoughts on harry's love interests / possible li's for him (the theo posts too), and i wondered what sort of love interest would be fitting for him if they were a girl. would they be like luna or any other existing character, how would they meet (ideally), what house or personality traits, etc.

Thank you!! 💛

Holy shit, it's insane you enjoyed my writing so much even without reading the books and that I got you to read the HP books but please be careful not to download malware on your PC. Stay safe out there.

Honestly, I can see a lot of different types of characters working as a love interest for Harry, but there are some common denominators for characters I think would work with him better. That being said, shipping is very subjective, and I think any character could be written in a compelling romance with any character by a talented enough writer, so these are mostly my preferences for Harry's dynamics in a romance with how I see his character.

Someone like Luna definitely could work. I like their dynamic and under the right circumstances, I think it could work. She's blunt, and straightforward in a way Harry respects, she can call out his bullshit and isn't scared of being herself. Harry's also open-minded enough to let Luna believe whatever she wants and would probably not mind a Sweaden vacation even if he doesn't believe they'd actually find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

Personally, I was always under the impression that if Harry and Susan Bones actually talked they would've gotten along really well due to Susan's, like, 3 lines:

“Not with the dragon, you didn’t,” said Michael Corner at once. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying. . . .” “Yeah, well —” said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree. “And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,” said Susan Bones.

(OotP, Ch16)

She clearly sees Hary's accomplishments for what they are and calls out his unfounded self-doubts (Harry needs someone who can do that without making him feel stupid).

Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors: Susan Bones, who had an uncle, aunt, and cousins who had all died at the hands of one of the ten, said miserably during Herbology that she now had a good idea what it felt like to be Harry. “And I don’t know how you stand it, it���s horrible,” she said bluntly, dumping far too much dragon manure on her tray of Screechsnap seedlings, causing them to wriggle and squeak in discomfort.

(OotP, Ch25)

She's straightforward and chill with a few of her own demons and she dislikes public attention as much as Harry. Even if Susan had ways less time with Harry, she understands he doesn't like the attention. She asks "how you stand it?" she thinks he must hate it as much as she does. I just find it interesting a random Hufflepuff girl who has 2 lines knows and understands Harry better than his love interest who thinks he likes getting attention and going after Voldemort.

Basically, a blunt, chill Hufflepuff that treats him like just Harry and not the Boy-Who-Lived would work too, is what I'm saying. Like a younger Tonks-like character who's a bit more serious and responsible (which is how I imagine Susan, except, less punk) could work with Harry. (though Harry thinks anyone who looks a little punk looks cool... He thinks Tonks is cool, and Kingsly and Bill are instantly cool in Harry's opinion for having an earring, so maybe give him a punk girlfriend. I think he'd be into it)

A Gryffindor girl who likes Quidditch (like Ginny) could've worked too. My problem with Ginny is that JKR tried to make her too perfect in the later books. Like, a Gryffindor girl who's confident and has a sense of humor could've been a good match for Harry. Just give her some actual insecurities and the willingness to be emotionally vulnerable with Harry and without Ginny's obsession so she'd see Harry as Harry and not as the Boy-Who-Lived — that could've worked. Like, Ginny as a concept could've worked if the character and her romance with Harry were written better. As she is in the books, I don't think it works though, I'd change the character's personality/attitude if I wanted to write her with Harry, so I don't feel like I could really call her "Ginny" you know?

A Ravenclaw like Cho who doesn't expect Harry to be another Cedric and is just more chill and not actively grieving could've worked. Like, as I mentioned Luna (who's a Ravenclaw) could work with Harry, but a sporty, chill, Ravenclaw could've also worked. She just needed to know who Harry is and date him for him and not as a Cedric replacement. Also, I just, don't think Harry would be interested in a girl who's into dragging him to Madam Paddifoots, but, like, a Ravenclaw who plays Quidditch and is, like, idk, obsessed with alchemy and has a bit of a mad scientist vibe going on, could work with Harry. I think his love interest should have interests of her own, basically. I think it adds flavor.

A cunning and intelligent Slytherin girl who isn't Pansy Parkinson (a la Daphne Greengrass or Tracy Davis) could work as well, depending on how you characterize her.

Basically, to ship Harry with a girl, of any house, I'd be looking for a lot of the same traits I look for in guys I ship Harry with:

Treat Harry as Harry and not as the Boy Who Lived — the reason doesn't matter but he/she has to see Harry as his own person and not his scar or fame and understand he hates the attention.

Intelligence — because Harry's actually really smart and he needs someone who could not only keep up with him but also correct and argue with him when the situation calls for it.

Self-confidence but also some insecurities — they need to have a spine to stand their ground and call Harry on his bullshit and his own low self-esteem but they should have their own issues and self-perception problems. I like it when things are fair and a ship helps each other grow together. Also, I don't think Harry would date someone truly arrogant. Arrogant to hide insecurities — that I think could work though under the right conditions.

Wit and humor — Harry is a sarcastic, sassy little shit with a slightly dark sense of humor, I think he needs a partner who can match his sense of humor and not get offended if he makes a comment about wanting to torture Snape.

Chill — Harry is a little emotionally inept, he would probably not manage well with a very emotional partner that requires a lot of attention (like Cho). Don't get me wrong, Harry would care and do his best, and pay attention when needed, but the guy doesn't really know how to deal with crying people. So, his partner should be someone who's fine with Harry's sort of comfort methods. (Some people don't want to talk about it when they're upset, they just want someone to listen to them vent a bit. Which, I think Harry would be great at. And vice versa. Harry, when upset, often just wants someone to be next to him quietly, but he doesn't want to talk about it sometimes). Basically, they need to have matching comfort styles so they could actually communicate when upset.

Chill (p2) — Harry's sort of anger requires someone who'd be able to remain cool once Harry reaches his threshold in year 5 wouldn't get quickly offended, but instead calmly put Harry in his place. Basically, they need to have more emotional intelligence than Harry because someone needs to know how to do emotions in the relationship. (In Ronmione's case, Ron is the more emotionally intelligent one, contrary to what Hermione likes to think. In Hinny's case, neither of them knows how to do emotions somehow, which adds to why they never appealed to me, I think. In Tommary, which I used to read, Harry is the emotionally intelligent one in the relationship, which is why this pairing is only realistic to me when it's a disastrous mess)

Knows to be both blunt and subtle depending on the situation — Harry needs someone to match him, as Harry can be a sneaky Slytherin sometimes, but sometimes, the situations in his life would require his partner to be brave and blunt. I think, regardless of house, his partner should be able to do both.

The capacity to be quiet — Harry is a quiet person overall and I think he'd work better with a partner who can just let him be quiet and not force him to engage in conversation. Ron and Hermione, for example, love bantering and bickering, but Harry finds their sort of bickering infuriating, so, yeah. Like, he can work with a partner who talks more than him, but they need to not always need to talk, yk?

At least a little anti-authority (or a lot) — I don't think Harry could date someone who's perfectly by-the-book and loves the rules and authority. Most of his clashes with Hermione come from a place of her trusting certain authority while Harry doesn't really trust any authority. I think he'd get frustrated dating someone who's too pro-authority (why he and Cho wouldn't have lasted even without Cedric's ghost hanging over them).

Magically talented — Harry's magic is insane, he doesn't need a partner that's on his level, but someone who is capable and skilled enough to hold their own is necessary with how dangerous Harry's life is and for him to be able to treat them seriously.

Brave — there are different kinds and levels of bravery, but at the end of the day, I don't think Harry could date someone who isn't brave enough to deal with all the shit Harry's life throws at him. Like, Harry's partner, I think, should be willing to join the trio on the Horcrux hunt should they be offered to. (I personally portray Theo, for example, as someone who doesn't think he's brave, but when he needs to, he's way braver than he thinks. Luna is brave enough to be herself and damn what anyone thinks. So you can play around with the kinds of bravery). Like, the fact Ginny didn't press him to know more about what they're planning and wanting to join the danger to help protect and defend Harry is insane to me. I think Harry deserves a ride-or-die relationship because he's a very ride-or-die person for the people he loves. (Hence why I love his friendship with Ron and Hermione. The Golden Trio is the definition of ride-or-die)

A bit of a tragic Backstory — this isn't mandatory, per se, but I think Harry would work best with a partner that has some of their own demons in their past. It's a little spice that I love. It's why I like shipping him with Theo (who from the very little we know of him can be read as being abused by his father, plus his mother is dead) or potentially Luna who saw her mother die. I think someone who's suffered some trauma similar to Harry would be better at connecting with Harry and seeing him in a way even Ron and Hermione struggle to do.

So, yeah, this is like, my thoughts on shipping Harry with any character and what's the broad strokes of my recipe for my preferred Harry dynamic in romance.

But, like with most things in fiction, it's all about execution. If you write it well enough, anything will work.

[2demondogs]

Hiii!! I love your work so much and would like it if you could do some angst(?)/comfort with Arthur and FTM reader?

If you're comfortable with this, reader might experience some transphobia while trying to get his hair cut short at the barbers, and they refuse to cut his hair. When he comes back to camp and Arthur sees that his hair isn't cut and he looks disappointed and upset, Arthur comforts him and offers to cut his hair instead.

Thank you!! I love this prompt... everyone's experiences are different, so I drew a lot from my own here. This was cathartic as fuck I hope it is for you as well.

Since the relationship felt ambiguous to me this is as well. Can be read as platonic or romantic <3

Words: 2.2k Tags: Period-typical transphobia, misgendering (explicitly in first scene); gender dysphoria, hurt/comfort thru out

I don't serve your kind. The words keep replaying in your head as you slow your horse's run to a trot, slurring into the next warning of: 'n' neither does anyone else 'round here, girl and whatever the barber had said afterwards.

Your ears had rang with the sudden rush of blood to your face when he pointedly said girl, so you hadn't heard much besides the clearing of your own throat and the tense, panic-airy good day, then you were forced, by polite expectation of your apparent subhuman nature, to utter instead of—

Instead of doing what?

Slitting his throat?

It wouldn't even have sufficed to relieve the blackness that filled your gut to bursting.

The words were spoken the same as any declination of service might be, the way it almost always is. That silent look over your figure, head to toe, and some kind of parental disappointment. Pursed lips or a frown, scrunched nose or not, and always the same, disquieting look that begs the question of who raised you?

As if this festering discontent is as blase a decision for you to make as a toddler playing in cow manure. Some work past the fence, but it's easy when you're young and small and you can wriggle through the wooden boards nailed to the posts. Except you're too old, now, for mucking about in mud that you are smart enough to understand is shit.

As if it's a decision at all.

As if you don't already fear, sometimes, that you are mucking about in shit, whatever it could mean.

As if, as if, as fucking if.

And by the time you are starting to feel the anger again, you're blinking and Bill is barking his usual who goes there? from his post watching guard. You ignore him, your mare recognizable enough to answer one of you, if not just me.

Everything melts into hot wax, burning behind your eyes. Exhaustion, and some reactionary, snapping-dog hatred of Bill for how deep his voice is, for all the hair coating his arms; suddenly, you hate every man in camp, keep your eyes on your horse as you dismount and leave her to socialize with the others. A greenness is taking root inside you, turning the fires of maladaptive respect and twisted-sweet envy into a purely Grecian kind.

Even over reason, it burns. It's so much easier to be angry, for now, than it is to let yourself cry.

Men don't cry.

Arthur is always lurking. Built for looming around, he is, but unsure where to go about it. Any other afternoon, that awkward habit would endear you. Now, he is the last and first person you wanted to hear say your name.

He knows, you think, both about the day's events and to remind yourself that you could be asked by anyone else what the sour stink rolling off your expression is all about, only to have to stammer through a lie.

Still, you freeze and splay a hand over the pages of your journal where it rests in your lap, and then gain the sense enough to shut it. Most of it had been words that would've been difficult to read from where Arthur stood, but there were drawings peppered throughout you'd rather he did not see.

He's standing in front of your seat on your bedroll, a respectful few feet back as always, thumbs hooked into his belt. Gun belt nowhere to be seen; it must be a day off or a late-starter.

"Yessir?" You answer him. It's a teasing formality, but the lack of oomph behind it makes his face twist.

"Thought you was gettin' your haircut today, mister," Arthur says, nodding at the thicket of hair still dusting your shoulders. His raises his brows, half concerned and half prying for a story, if there is one. That would endear you, too. "Y'get some trouble instead?"

Warmth raises in your cheeks. You glance at your journal, and then the bushes that line camp, as if both might speak for you. Even if Arthur won't spit invert or crossdresser at you — though the way being treated as you were this morning leaves you feeling so raw, you're suddenly afraid his heart might have changed since those months ago — it feels impersonal and also far too personal to tell him.

Violated, you realize, is how you've felt since this morning. Seen through by the eyes of hate, and violated. That burning in your skin is crawling.

"Sort of," you finally say, and the pause clearly perks his ears.

He sucks on his teeth, slides his thumb over the stitching on his belt for something to move. "You been mean-lookin' since you got back, man," Arthur says, but his tone of voice asks: Are you alright?

Men never do ask what they mean. You had to figure that out quick when you were surrounded by so many of them, of the most emotionally-withdrawn variety to boot.

Sometimes it pisses you off. You ache to be foolish in the right ways, instead of the ways that you are.

Another pause, as you ask yourself once if you should tell him, and then stare into the grass poking up around his boots instead of actually pondering the question. You suppose you knew you would the moment he called for your attention.

Why is it so difficult to accept his concern? Why does it hurt?

Tearing your gaze from the ground, roving it around camp and finding nobody close enough, you bite the bullet. "Barber turned me away." You sigh, drop your journal on the ground beside your bedroll and draw your legs to your chest, before readjusting against the stiffness of your packer pushed uncomfortably into your gut.

God, I feel extraterrestrial.

His brows furrow. "Why?"

You just look at him, shoulders sagging. He seems to recall, as if it's something he could ever forget. Does he really forget?

"Oh," he says, rubs a hand over his mouth. His nostrils flare, and he points vaguely at the ground as if condemning the blades of grass in place of the barber. "That's bullshit. How would he...?" Arthur trails off, shakes his hand, realizing it probably isn't the question to ask you in this frame of mind. "That's real bullshit. I woulda hurt him."

You blanche. "Arthur, it ain't that— it ain't nothin'," you lie. "Not worth that."

"Yes, it is," Arthur says, as if he's disagreeing on the weather.

You can't help wishing he were right, that you could have slaughtered everyone who turned that evil eye on you without soaking your hands through to the bone with blood. Before Dutch came along, before you had a place — as transient as it is — there were no rocks to cling to, because only pebbles are laid out for men like you. If it weren't for the hatred spread so far, you'd think you were the only one born wrong.

Sometimes, you feel that loneliness, anyways.

There is no want me to do something about it? asked in the silence that follows. Although you can feel it lingering in the air after he sighs, you also know Arthur isn't a stupid man.

There is no justice for you, same as anyone deemed degenerate in the way you are, and he knows this as well you do. There is no use pretending that there can be, not today and not tomorrow. Twenty years from now, maybe fifty, maybe the very day you lay dying— but not today, and not tomorrow.

The promise of it beneath Dutch is part of why you've stuck around, despite that promise being made in the utmost secrecy.

"I'll put the bastard out of a job, at least," Arthur offers. "Won't even charge ya."

"You know how to cut hair?" You ask.

He offers a small smile, lifts his hat and bows his head. "Can't promise it'll be handsome," he says, running a hand through his own choppy hair before re-settling the gambler on his head. "I been cuttin' Hosea's, lately, old coot can't work the scissors. Used to cut John's, before we could trust him with scissors."

Your mood lifts, menially. "Is that to say you're still cuttin' John's?"

Arthur laughs. Nothing gets a belly-laugh out of him like picking on John. Somewhere, some sixth sense probably made the other man sneer with no apparent cause.

"Nah, he's too literate now. He could actually tell me what he's thinkin' 'bout," he waves a hand, then feigns a disgusted expression. "I'd prob'ly end up stabbin' him in the head."

Clearly, he's more comfortable raising your spirits this way. You don't blame him; it's easier, too, for you to get distracted from your grief than to explore it.

Most of camp is busy, the women washing and mending and reading, the men doing the hard labor and lazing around. Even out in the sticks, even above the law— those divides still find us, you think, and ignore the complexity of how you fall victim to them, too, in your own ways.

The canvas flaps of Arthur's tent are already drawn down to keep his cot in the shade, and you're thankful for the privacy despite the slight claustrophobia inside it. Sure, you've shared tents with Hosea and Lenny who both are afflicted with a constant chill only drawn canvas can resolve; and with Javier who draws the flaps because he is forever roasting, seeking the same shade that's found here. Something thick clogs the air as Arthur takes a pair of scissors from his shaving stand and drags his fingers through your hair to straighten it out, all before you've even stopped moving, as uncoordinated as most of his friendly gestures are.

Kindness just the same.

Could be thick in your throat, too, maybe that's why your eyes feel dry enough to burn — but neverminding that, you swallow and say: "Thanks, man."

Arthur grunts behind you. He's so much taller, he doesn't need you to sit to see clearly over the top of your head. It stings, a little, and then it fades.

"Ain't nothin'," he says. "How short you wantin' this?"

You try to think of anyone but him to compare your desired length to. He's already being nice. You can't let yourself appear admiring.

"Sorta like Bill," you say.

"Wanna be baldin' in the front like 'im, too?" He asks, and you can hear the shit-eating grin before he snickers alongside you.

It should probably worry you how quickly he works, pulling chunks of hair taut and snipping straight across the ends. First, a solid inch comes off your nape; then he's working closer to your scalp, rough but confident. Most finer movements, you've noticed, seem to come natural to Arthur despite his inelegance with the rest of life's motions.

You can feel the boxy pattern he cuts in. Cookie-cutter, probably, because you suppose Hosea is the only one he's ever done-up who really cared to instruct him on flattering his face shape.

That thickness raises in your throat again, and your chest presses against its bindings with the heavy breath you take to try staving off what must be tears. Only some, does it lighten, as the weight of untrimmed hair is loosened and felled.

Thanks doesn't feel like enough. You aren't often so... whatever you had been since you got back from town. And Arthur still took your vulnerability in his hands by his own volition, without asking for anything in return. Gratefulness blooms from that tacked-on clause, because you know the plight of where's my favor? too well from that false girlhood.

A haircut amongst thieves really ain't nothin', he's right — your hair has been cut by many a fool before, in shops and in camp — but whether or not it's just a haircut is a better question. It is, then it isn't, and then it's too much to think about all at once and you feel overwhelmed, slinking out of your own head and back to the present, staring ahead at the beige, stained canvas of Arthur's tent as his hands work through your hair.

He's ruffling it and nudging your head towards the barrel his shaving mirror stands on before you're fully back in reality. You need to get a handle on the spacing out, you know, but you never realize it's coming on before it does.

"Take a look," he invites as you step towards the looking glass. "Tried not to do y'too nasty."

You lean over, fix the part of your hair after running a hand through it, just to feel the difference. It's a weight off your shoulders, mentally, and you find yourself smiling.

"Looks good enough for a hat," you say, give him lopsided grin.

He snorts. "Careful." Arthur tosses the scissors back atop the barrel. "Might inflate my ego."

It's choppy and slightly cockeyed, if you look carefully, which you don't.

Straightening, you itch with the urge to hug him. Contentment wavers. Another moment of social expectations reaching into your heart, twisting around the feelings, making you wonder if men ever get that urge or if it was too womanly of you to even consider it— and Arthur must sense your pent-up intent.

He doesn't offer an embrace, though you've never known him to be one to shy from it. Instead, he claps your shoulder and squeezes in something quite like one, offers a crook of his lips.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Last post you talked about your ideal version of canon, I was wondering could you share it with us? If not, that's ok

Oh man, I could go on about my dream version of canon for ages! I've talked about various aspects of it on here with stuff like my "sugar" posts on Nino and Alya, but the broad strokes are:

Serialized story where it's basically one large narrative told in chunks

A true teams setup where Adrien, Marinette, Alya, and Nino feel like this amazing, tight friend group who grows into a found family as they get older, giving platonic and romantic love more equal billing

No guardian order, just have it be a single-person role that gets passed on from person to person

Kagami and Luka in supporting roles that have nothing to do with being love interests

Sympathetic Gabriel who feels like a truly tragic figure, but who does NOT get redeemed

Emilie gets an actual character

No sentinonsense

Revised miracle box that is way smaller and that has strong lore

The Agreste's aquiring the miraculous is far more morally complex, makes sense, and was not done for explicitly selfish reasons

Reverse the love square right from the start and never have the crushes flip

I've talked about all of these things on here, but the one thing that I've only briefly touched on is my love of a reverse square setup. I am passionate about that one, so let's take a moment to talk about why since it's probably going to be the most interesting to read.

I don't hate the canon setup for the crushes, but also I don't think that they're the ideal crushes. When it comes to romance stories, you want to design your love interests around each other. You want them to feel special and like they bring something unique to the table. Canon doesn't really give us that. There's nothing all that special about Adrien that makes him feel like the person that Marinette would be drawn to above all others. Same goes for Chat Noir and Ladybug, but we'll get to them in a second.

What is Marinette's biggest struggle? Her role as Ladybug.

Who is her main support in that role for most of the show? Chat Noir.

Who is her main support on the civilian side even before the reveal? Alya.

So why is Marinette's crush on Adrien and not Chat Noir? I don't know. It's the lesser setup by far and that goes beyond just the logic elements of who it makes the most sense for her to fall in love with. A lot of Marinette's worst behavior actually feels justified in a reverse crush setup, allowing you to write her without major changes to her character.

For example, Marinette keeping a chest of gifts for Adrien is kind of pathetic. She's friends with Adrien and she gives her friends gifts all the time, why can't she give him gifts, too? Reverse the crushes and suddenly this behavior makes perfect sense. Marinette isn't storing up gifts because of overblown fears of rejection. She's storing up gifts for legitimate fears about how her partner will explain these random gifts, thereby risking his identity, meaning that she has a sold argument for waiting until the time is right (post reveal) to give them to him.

There's also the legitimate fear that confessing her love could ruin their dynamic and put Paris at risk. Keeping her feelings to herself is now an act of self-sacrifice and not just an act of nerves. Basically everything about Marinette's hesitance just makes so much more sense if it's on the hero side.

But what about Adrien? How does this fix him?

I love the idea of our male romantic lead falling for our female lead because she's bold and brave, but it honestly doesn't fit Adrien's character. He is surrounded by powerful, confrontational women. Nathalie, Chloe, Kagami, Amilie, Audrey, and Tomoe are all no-nonsense women who get what they want. This means that Ladybug doesn't bring something unique to his life. She fits the standard mold. Adrien falling in love with her after she talks down Hawkmoth doesn't feel like the right choice for his character because it doesn't feel like something he'd be wildly impressed by.

Meanwhile, Marinette is shown to be a generally wonderful friend. She cares about others and will do what she can to make them feel welcome and accepted. That's a much more unique thing for Adrien to experience. Think about the umbrella scenes and imagine if it was Marinette apologizing. Marinette owning that she treated him poorly and asking his forgiveness. How often do you think Adrien gets moments like that? Doesn't it make more sense for something like that to make his heart flutter?

We see Marinette doing things like making banners to celebrate her friends (Timebreaker) and making sure everyone feels included (Reflekta). Imagine her giving Adrien that kind of treatment because it's just who Marinette is. She shows up to his fencing matches to cheer him on. Brings him his favorite snacks as a treat just because, surrounding this poor boy in honest, genuine love and support. Add in respect, too, and he'd be a goner because those are the things that he's not getting anywhere else! The things that make Marinette unique.

This brings us to our new civilian dynamic. In canon, it's Marinette failing to confess in ever more spectacular ways as Alya tries and fails to help. In a reverse crush setup where everyone is friends without gender barriers, it's things like Adrien coming up with his canon confessions and then watching Alya and Nino react with genuine horror because, dude, you're going to give her a panic attack! No! Bad kitty! Stop that! No confessions until you come up with a plan that we approve of and read at least five books of dating advice because holy shit did homeschooling do you dirty in this area!

Then, while Adrien is working to learn how dating works, he learns that Marinette is in love with Chat Noir and, oh no! He thinks she's into his public persona, totally unaware that she knows the real Chat Noir and loves his dorky self. So he tries to emulate his sexy alter ego while Nino and Alya suffer and Marinette is just generally confused because she doesn't think of Chat Noir like that, so she doesn't even notice what Adrien is doing.

This also adds a nice mitigating factor to Adrien's unwillingness to give up even though it's pretty clear that Marinette isn't interested in his civilian self. If he knows that she loves him, then his persistence is less concerning and more comedic. It's not that he can't take a no, it's that he honestly knows with 100% certainty that the answer is NOT no because she's told him that to his face. He just needs her to realize that the guy she's in love with is right here, ready and willing!

The potential for comedy is just so much more broad and so much less mean spirited because Marinette has none of Adrien's reserved nature, so her friends would totally know about her massive "celebrity crush". Adrien comes over for school projects and just stares longingly at her Chat Noir posters, wishing he could tell her his secret, but knowing that he can't.

In my world, that is so much more fun than canon's setup where Marinette has no reason to hope. I also wouldn't draw the crushes out anywhere near as long as canon did. I like getting couples together in the mid-game. It's a nice early plot to hook you in, but defeating the villain is the end game, so we don't need to draw the romance out that long. Romance isn't that special. It's not all that different from an arc about two characters becoming friends.

That's far from the only major change I'd make to shape canon into my ideal version, but it is the probably the change that I love the most. It's also the change that requires the least context to explain, so there you go!

[th3mrskory]

Chapter 7: Echoes of the Past

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: Mentions of past trauma (mild), masturbation (male) and I think that's all. A/N: So, I know the slow burn has been crawling, so this time I decided to pour some gasoline on it. This chapter touches on Evelyn’s past— let’s just say a ghost makes a timely return to stir things up. Chapter 8 …well, you might hate me (but I hope not too much). Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me—it means more than I can say. Now, go enjoy this one, and let me know what you think!

Word count: 6.5k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The town fair was alive with the hum of cheerful voices, the scent of funnel cakes and roasted chestnuts wafting through the cool evening air. Strings of colorful lights crisscrossed the fairgrounds, casting a warm glow over the gathering crowd. Evelyn tightened her grip on Logan’s hand as they weaved through the throng, the comfortable weight of his presence grounding her in the lively chaos.

“Didn’t peg you as a fair kind of guy,” she teased, glancing up at him with a small smile.

Logan smirked, his free hand shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket. “The guys at work were all bringing their ladies. Figured I’d better not show up empty-handed.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so I’m just here to save your reputation?”

“Yes,” he replied dryly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement.

She gave his hand a playful squeeze. “Well, I’m honored to uphold your rugged logger image.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand as they strolled past a booth selling handmade crafts. The fair was in full swing, the sounds of laughter and the occasional burst of music filling the crisp night air.

“Think you’ll get called out for bringing a city girl?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Nah,” Logan said, glancing at her. “They’ve been waiting to see who’d put up with me.”

Evelyn laughed, the sound light and easy. “Good thing I don’t scare off that easily.”

The banter between them carried on as they explored the fair, stopping occasionally to admire the wares at different stalls or grab a bite to eat. Logan’s presence was steady and comforting, his rare smiles making the night feel even warmer despite the cool breeze.

They passed a booth with a ring toss game, the prizes ranging from stuffed animals to small trinkets. Evelyn stopped, eyeing a plush fox hanging in the corner.

“You eyeing that fox?” Logan asked, his tone light.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I mean, it’s cute, but those games are rigged.”

Logan tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Rigged, huh?”

Before she could protest, he handed over a few bills to the vendor and picked up the rings. His first toss missed, but the next two landed squarely on the poles, the clang of success drawing a grin from the vendor.

“Nice work,” the vendor said, handing Logan the plush fox.

Logan turned to Evelyn, holding it out. “For you.”

She laughed, taking the toy and hugging it to her chest. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

“Don’t spread it around,” he said, his tone dry but his expression warm.

As they wandered back into the heart of the fair, the hum of activity enveloped them once more. The scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet cotton candy mingled in the air, and Evelyn found herself easing into the moment again, Logan’s steady presence beside her grounding her in ways she hadn’t fully realized until now.

They paused by a booth selling cider, Logan handing her a warm cup before taking one for himself. “Good?” he asked, his voice low but warm.

She took a sip, the spicy sweetness filling her senses, and nodded with a small smile. “Very.”

They strolled on, stopping occasionally to admire the performers scattered throughout the fair—a fire-breather here, a fiddler playing lively tunes there. Logan’s quiet amusement at her fascination with it all made her smile.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, bumping his arm lightly.

“Not bad,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Seeing you enjoy it makes it better.”

Before she could respond, a loud voice called out from nearby.

“Howlett!”

They both turned to see a group of men gathered near a ring-toss game, several of whom Evelyn recognized from the logging site. One of them—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard—was waving them over.

“Caught you at the fair, huh?” the man said with a grin as they approached. “Thought you’d be too busy chopping trees or scowling at the world.”

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think, Pete,” Logan replied, his tone dry but not unfriendly.

The others chuckled, their gazes shifting to Evelyn.

“And this must be the reason he’s been less grumpy lately,” another one said, winking at her. “Nice to finally meet you. Name’s Rick.”

Evelyn smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Don’t mind these idiots,” Logan muttered, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

“You’re just mad we’re right,” Rick quipped, elbowing Pete. “Good to see you happy, Howlett. It suits you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, his hand resting lightly on the small of Evelyn’s back.

Rick smirked, his tone sly. “So, when’s the wedding, huh? You gonna invite us, or are you keeping it small?”

Evelyn laughed, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Logan. “We’ll let you know if he ever asks.”

Rick let out a booming laugh, clapping Logan on the shoulder. “She’s got you pegged, Howlett. Better not let this one get away.”

Logan shook his head, but the warmth in his expression didn’t go unnoticed. “You done yet?”

“Not even close,” Rick said, grinning. “We just want to make sure she knows what she’s signed up for.”

Evelyn tilted her head, her gaze playful. “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Rick laughed again, his hand resting briefly on Evelyn’s shoulder. “You’re a good sport. Good luck with him.”

After a few more minutes of lighthearted ribbing, the group let them go with a chorus of good-natured farewells. As they walked away, Evelyn glanced up at Logan, her smile softening.

“They seem nice,” she said.

“They mean well,” he replied, his hand slipping back into hers.

“They’re happy for you,” she pointed out, squeezing his hand lightly.

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Guess they are.”

They continued their stroll, pausing near the carousel where the cheerful sound of calliope music drifted through the air. The strings of lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the quiet corner. Logan stopped, his gaze shifting to her.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Evelyn nodded, her fingers brushing against his. “I am. Thanks to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Logan said simply, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Just glad I could help.”

She stepped closer, her voice softer now. “You’re more than ‘help,’ Logan. You don’t have to say it, but I know what you mean to me.”

The warmth in his gaze made her chest tighten, and she leaned into him slightly, letting the quiet strength of his presence wrap around her. In that moment, the chaos of the fair seemed a world away, leaving just the two of them standing together beneath the strings of lights. 

As they rounded a corner near the Ferris wheel, Evelyn suddenly froze mid-step, her laughter dying in her throat. Across the fairgrounds, standing near a booth selling caramel apples, was a face she hadn’t seen in over a year but would recognize anywhere.

Her ex-fiancé, William.

He looked almost the same as he had the day he left—clean-cut, polished, and standing with the same air of casual confidence that once made her feel safe. But now, he was leaning close to another woman, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. The sight sent a cold wave crashing over her, the noise of the fair fading into a dull hum in the background.

Logan’s voice broke through the fog. “You alright?”

She turned toward him, startled, her heart pounding. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flicking toward the direction she’d been staring. He didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened around hers, his presence steady and unyielding.

And then, as if drawn by some unseen thread, her ex-fiancé turned. Their eyes met across the distance, and for a moment, Evelyn couldn’t breathe. For a moment, there was no recognition. And then, his expression shifted—first surprise, then something that looked almost like discomfort.

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for her to hear over the noise of the fair.

She froze, the sound of her name on his lips sending a shiver down her spine. Logan stopped with her, his posture subtly shifting as he positioned himself closer to her side.

“Hey,” her ex said, taking a step forward. The woman beside him glanced between them, her smile faltering as she seemed to sense the tension. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” Evelyn replied, her tone carefully neutral.

The man hesitated, his gaze flicking to Logan before returning to her. “You look good,” he said awkwardly, as though unsure of what else to say.

Evelyn straightened slightly, her fingers tightening around Logan’s. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Logan didn’t speak, but his quiet presence beside her felt like a shield, solid and unyielding.

“Well,” her ex said after a moment, glancing back at the woman he was with. “It was good seeing you. Take care, Evelyn.”

“You too,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning in her chest.

As he walked away, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging slightly. Logan didn’t say anything, but his hand moved to rest lightly against her back, grounding her.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said quickly.

They walked in silence for a while, the lightness of their earlier banter replaced by a heavy tension that clung to Evelyn like a second skin. She tried to focus on the fair—the laughter of children, the cheerful music drifting from the carousel—but the image of her ex lingered, stirring a whirlwind of emotions she thought she’d buried.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I need some air,” she murmured, stepping toward the edge of the fairgrounds where the crowd thinned.

Logan followed without hesitation, his hand slipping from hers but his presence close behind. They stopped near a bench beneath a string of lights, the soft glow illuminating the lines of concern etched into his face.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

She hesitated, her arms wrapping around herself as she stared at the ground. “That was my ex,”she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. 

The words hung in the air between them, carrying the weight of a history Logan didn’t yet know. His gaze remained steady, his hands flexing slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her.

“The one who...?” he began, his voice trailing off, leaving the rest of the question unspoken.

She nodded, her throat tightening. “Yeah.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something sharp crossing his expression—anger, maybe, or something close to it. But he didn’t say anything, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

“I wasn’t expecting to see him,” she continued, her voice wavering. “And with someone else...” Her words faltered, and she shook her head as if to clear it. “Not that it matters. It doesn’t.It just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a quiet insistence that told her he wasn’t buying her dismissal.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned toward him, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s complicated, Logan. Seeing him again—it brought back... the hurt, the humiliation.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand brushing against her arm before settling there lightly. “You don’t have to explain it all to me,” he said, his voice softer now. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, the tension in her chest loosening just slightly at his words. “I thought I’d moved past it,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But seeing him... I don’t know. It made me feel like I’m right back at the church.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting into something that wasn’t pity but understanding—a quiet strength that steadied her as her words faltered.

“You’re not there,” he said firmly, his voice low and grounding. “You’re here. And you’re stronger than the person he walked away from.”

Her throat tightened, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered. “It feels like he took something from me that I can’t get back.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup her cheek, his rough palm warm against her skin. The gesture made her chest ache, not from pain but from the tenderness in it.

“He didn’t take anything that matters,” Logan said, his tone steady. “Not the part of you that kept going. That rebuilt herself when he wasn’t there to help.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she let out a shaky breath. “Logan...”

His thumb brushed the tear away, his gaze never wavering. “You’re allowed to feel this,” he murmured. “But don’t let it make you forget how far you’ve come. And don’t let it make you forget who you are now.”

His words settled over her, soothing the raw edges of her hurt. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she leaned slightly into his touch.

“You always know what to say,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint, tentative smile.

Logan let out a soft huff, his thumb pausing against her cheek. “Just trying to keep up with you.”

That earned a quiet laugh, the sound breaking through the tension and lightening the air between them. She reached up, covering his hand with hers, her fingers curling around his.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice rough but warm. “Just... let me be here for you.”

The sincerity in his words made her heart ache in the best way. 

She took a deep breath, stepping back slightly but keeping her hand in his. “Let’s go back,” she said, her voice quiet but determined.

Logan nodded, his fingers tightening briefly around hers. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’m not letting him ruin our night.”

Logan’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, and without another word, he guided her back toward the fair. His hand stayed firmly in hers, his presence a steadying anchor as the lively sounds of the fair enveloped them once more.

Though her mind still lingered on the encounter, the warmth of Logan’s touch and the weight of his words grounded her, reminding her of the life she was building—one that her past couldn’t take from her.

Logan pulled the truck to a gentle stop in front of the cottage, the warm glow of the porch light spilling into the darkened yard. The drive back from the fair had been quiet, but not uncomfortable—filled with the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding rather than awkwardness.

Logan turned to her as she unbuckled her seatbelt, his expression steady but laced with something unspoken. “You alright?”

Evelyn nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. I think so. Thanks for tonight. For... everything.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, his hand resting on the gear shift. “Always.”

As she reached for the door handle, his voice stopped her. “Hey.”

She turned back to him, her brows lifting slightly.

“I was thinking,” he began, his tone casual but carrying an edge of hesitation, “maybe next time, we do something a little quieter. Dinner. At my place.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Your place?”

Logan shrugged, his gaze flicking briefly toward the steering wheel before meeting hers again. “Figured it’s only fair. We’re always here at yours.”

A warm, unexpected flutter spread through her chest at the suggestion. “I’d like that,” she said softly, her smile widening.

“Friday work for you?”

She nodded, stepping out of the truck but pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll bring dessert,” she teased, her tone light.

Logan smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Deal.”

On Friday evening, the crisp autumn air was tinged with the scent of pine as Evelyn turned her car onto the gravel road leading to Logan’s cabin. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the driveway, the forest surrounding his property alive with the soft rustle of leaves.

Her nerves hummed lightly as she parked next to his truck, clutching the box of homemade cookies she’d promised to bring for dessert. It wasn’t their first evening together, but this felt different—more deliberate, like a step forward in their unspoken rhythm.

Before she could knock, the door opened, revealing Logan in his usual flannel and jeans, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled. There was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put her at ease.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let her in.

“Hey,” she replied, offering him a smile as she crossed the threshold. The cabin was cozy, smaller than her cottage but just as inviting, with its rough-hewn wooden beams and the faint crackle of a fire in the stone hearth.

Logan took the box of cookies from her hands, his fingers brushing hers briefly. “Smells good,” he said, glancing down at the neatly tied package.

“Don’t let that fool you,” she teased, slipping off her coat. “They might taste terrible.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Doubt that.”

The cabin felt distinctly like him—simple and sturdy, with a sense of quiet warmth beneath the surface. A small bookshelf sat by the fireplace, filled with well-worn paperbacks and a few framed photos. The table in the corner was set with two mismatched plates and a candle flickering gently in the center.

“You really went all out,” she said, her voice carrying a note of playful surprise as she took it all in.

Logan shrugged, setting the cookies on the counter. “Figured it was time for a change. We’re always at your place.”

Her smile softened at his effort, and she stepped closer, brushing a hand lightly against his arm. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

Dinner was simple but perfect—a roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables that Logan had clearly put care into preparing. They fell into easy conversation as they ate, the intimacy of the space wrapping around them like a blanket.

Halfway through the meal, Evelyn glanced at the photo frame on the bookshelf. It showed a much younger Logan in a military uniform, standing next to a group of men who were all grinning despite the dust and grime on their faces.

“Is that you?” she asked, nodding toward the picture.

Logan’s gaze followed hers, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah. A long time ago.”

“You look so serious,” she teased gently, though there was no mockery in her tone.

“Wasn’t much to laugh about back then,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.

A beat of silence passed, the weight of his words settling between them. Then Logan leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on hers. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice almost casual, though his tone carried an underlying weight.

Evelyn tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”

He stood and crossed the room to the bookshelf, reaching for something she hadn’t noticed before. When he returned, he held out a pair of dog tags strung on a simple chain.

The metal glinted faintly in the candlelight as he placed them in her hands. “These are mine,” he said, his voice rougher now. “From when I served.”

She stared down at the tags, her fingers brushing over the etched letters. “Logan...”

“You don’t have to wear them or anything,” he said quickly, almost as if he were worried she might refuse. “Just... I wanted you to have something. Something that mattered to me.”

Her throat tightened, and she looked up at him, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you. This means more than you know.”

After the meal, they worked together on the dishes, their movements synchronized in a quiet rhythm. The soft clink of plates and the gentle hum of conversation filled the small kitchen, adding to the warmth of the evening. When they were done, Logan grabbed a towel, wiping his hands as Evelyn wandered into the living room.

Her gaze landed on a Polaroid camera sitting on the side table. “Oh my God, you have one of these?” she exclaimed, picking it up with an almost childlike delight.

Logan smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s old.”

She laughed, opening the back to check for film. “Still works, though.” Finding a few shots left, she climbed onto the couch, motioning him over. “Come here.”

Logan rolled his eyes but complied, sitting stiffly beside her. She tilted the camera, angling it just right, then leaned into him with a grin.

The camera whirred and clicked, spitting out the photo. She waved it in the air, laughing at Logan’s slightly awkward expression in the developing image. “Perfect,” she declared.

She adjusted the camera and pointed it at him. “One more—for me.”

Logan raised a brow but didn’t protest, sitting still as she snapped the shot.

Satisfied, she turned the lens on herself, angling it for a final picture. With a playful flourish, she kissed the developing photo before handing it to him. “And one for you.”

Logan stared at the picture, her bright smile frozen in time. His fingers brushed the edge of the Polaroid as a soft, almost reverent expression crossed his face. Without a word, he leaned forward, pulling her into a kiss.

It started slow, but the spark between them flared quickly. Her hands slid up his chest, tugging him closer as his grip tightened around her waist. They sank into the couch, the tension mounting as their bodies pressed together. Logan’s lips left hers to trail along her neck, his breathing heavy, and a low growl rumbled from his chest as she shifted against him.

Her hands slid into his hair, tugging gently, and a soft gasp escaped her lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin just below her ear. The moment was electric, both of them caught in a current too strong to resist.

Logan broke the kiss suddenly, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her. She was flushed, her lips red and parted, her hair clinging to her damp forehead. The sight of her like this, vulnerable yet full of desire, sent a wave of heat surging through him, and he felt his body respond instinctively.

“Evelyn,” he murmured, his voice thick with need and restraint. His hands tightened on her waist, almost as if grounding himself. “I think we should stop.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face as she continued to move against him, her body seeking his. “Why?” she asked softly, her voice laced with longing.

Logan closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he fought to keep control. “Because if we don���t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

She stopped her movements, her hands sliding from his shoulders to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, steady, and her gaze searched his, her own chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. “Logan,” she began, her tone softer now. “I trust you.”

His eyes opened, and the storm within them met her unwavering calm. “It’s not about trust,” he said, his voice rough. “You told me to take it slow, and I don’t want to be the reason you change that.”

Her heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice, the way he was holding back, not for himself but for her. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “I know what I want,” she whispered, her words warm against his skin. “And right now, I just want to be close to you. I’m not asking for more.”

Logan groaned softly, his eyes squeezing shut as he rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t—I can’t control myself when it comes to you,”he muttered, his voice low and full of longing. 

Her cheeks burned, and she quickly pulled back, her hands flying to cover her face. “Oh my God,” she mumbled into her palms, embarrassed by the intensity of the moment.

Logan huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he stood. “It’s not you, bub. It’s me.” His voice was gentler now, though his movements were still stiff with restraint. “I just… I need a minute.”

Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the door clicking shut breaking the charged silence.

Left alone, Evelyn sat frozen for a moment before peeking out from behind her hands, her cheeks still burning. The weight of the moment lingered in the room, but so did something else—a sense of care, of respect, and a deep connection that neither of them could deny.

She exhaled slowly, her lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “What are you doing to me, Logan?” she whispered to herself, the heat in her chest refusing to subside.

Inside the bathroom, Logan braced himself on the sink, his broad shoulders hunched as if the weight of his self-control was a physical burden. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the porcelain, and his reflection in the mirror stared back at him—a mess of frustration, longing, and restraint.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “Come on, Howlett. You’re acting like a damn teenager.”

The words felt hollow as they left his lips. She made him feel like a man stripped down to his most basic instincts, raw and exposed in ways that unsettled him.

He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water rush over his hands before splashing some on his face. The icy shock was a welcome reprieve from the fire that had ignited under his skin. Droplets clung to his hair and dripped onto the sink as he stared into the mirror again.

Her face flashed in his mind—flushed and glowing, her lips swollen from their kisses, her voice trembling with trust and desire as she whispered his name. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he gripped the edge of the sink tighter, his claws threatening to unsheathe.

“Pull it together,” he hissed to himself, his voice low and sharp. 

But God, she made it so damn hard. Every touch, every look, every soft sigh drove him closer to a line he didn’t trust himself to cross. He’d never wanted anything—or anyone—this much before. 

He shut his eyes tightly, taking in a deep, steadying breath. 

His breathing quickened, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. “Damn it,” he growled. But the ache wouldn’t relent, the tension building like a storm that wouldn’t break.

Logan tried to push it down, to shake it off, but her voice echoed in his mind: I trust you. That trust, that closeness—they meant everything to him. But his body wasn’t listening. He was only human, and the fire she’d lit inside him wasn’t going out on its own.

His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against the cool glass of the mirror. He cursed softly, his hand drifting lower to his belt, undoing it at an embarrassing speed. His breath hitched as his hand wrapped itself around his painfully hard member, his free hand bracing him against the sink.

He beggan stroking himself fast, almost desperate, and he bit back a low groan as he finally let the tension snap. For a moment, the release brought relief, his body calming as he exhaled shakily. But the satisfaction was fleeting, the guilt settling in almost immediately after.

He straightened, his chest still heaving as he stared at himself in the mirror, disgust flickering in his gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he muttered, his voice harsh. 

Logan turned off the faucet and took a moment to compose himself, his hands gripping the counter until the trembling stopped. He didn’t deserve her, not like this—not when he couldn’t even keep himself in check. He grabbed a towel and wiped himself, trying to scrub away the evidence of his weakness.

Finally, he stood tall, steeling himself as he reached for the doorknob. His expression was guarded, his jaw set as he opened the door and stepped back into the room.

Logan stepped out of the bathroom, his face composed, though a faint shadow of guilt lingered in his eyes. He found her curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap, flipping idly through channels on the old TV.

She glanced up as he entered, offering him a small, tentative smile. “Everything okay?” she asked softly.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room. “Yeah. Just needed a minute,” he said, his voice calmer now, though the weight of his earlier emotions still clung to him.

She shifted to make room for him on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. “Come sit.”

Logan hesitated for a moment before sitting down, the cushion dipping under his weight. She pulled the blanket over both of them, her warmth immediately grounding him.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the soft flicker of the TV casting a warm glow across the room. Some old sitcom was playing, the canned laughter filling the quiet space between them.

As the tension from earlier began to fade, Logan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was focused on the screen, her face relaxed, though her hand rested lightly against his arm—a small, reassuring gesture that made his chest ache.

“Sorry if I…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “ made things weird.”

She turned to him, her expression gentle. “You didn’t,” she said simply. 

The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, genuine smile, and for the first time that evening, he felt himself relax. The pull between them was still there, simmering under the surface, but for now, this—just being close to her—was enough.

As the credits rolled on the TV, she yawned softly, her head tilting to rest against his shoulder. Logan froze for a moment, then eased into the touch, his arm slipping around her shoulders.

“You tired?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She nodded against him, her eyes fluttering shut. “A little.”

“Get some rest,” he murmured, his hand lightly brushing against her arm.

They stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for the low hum of the TV and the crackle of the fire. Logan glanced down at her, her breathing evening out as she drifted off against him.

For all his inner turmoil, this moment—her trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms—felt like something he didn’t deserve. But he’d hold onto it, for as long as she let him.

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting long golden shadows across the room. Evelyn stirred, slowly becoming aware of the warmth pressed against her back and the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest. For a moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of it—the solidness of him, the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to his skin.

But then, the events of the night before came rushing back: the heated kisses, the way his hands had gripped her hips like she was the only thing grounding him. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of their closeness, the quiet intensity that had left her breathless.

She carefully shifted out of his embrace, the creak of the couch making her wince. As she stood, she noticed the Polaroid on the floor, its corner peeking out from beneath the edge of the coffee table. Bending to pick it up, she stared at her own image for a moment, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

Her gaze flicked to Logan, still asleep, his features soft and unguarded in the morning light. Setting the photo back on the table, she found a scrap of paper and pen nearby and scribbled a quick note:

Thank you for last night—for everything. You have no idea how much it means to me. See you soon.

She folded the note and placed it beside the Polaroid before grabbing her jacket and slipping out the door, the cool morning air brushing against her flushed cheeks.

Back at her cottage, the stillness felt louder than usual, filling the small space as Evelyn poured herself a cup of tea. The events of the night before replayed in her mind, the intensity of their kisses, the feel of Logan’s hands on her waist, and the quiet way he’d held her as she drifted off.

She sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window, before finally reaching for the phone. Her fingers hovered over the rotary dial for a moment before she took a steadying breath and began to turn the numbers. The line clicked faintly before it started to ring.

Martha picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of curiosity. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite pioneer woman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Good morning to you too, Martha.”, let out a soft laugh, sinking onto the couch. “Sorry, I’ve been... busy.”

“Oh, I know exactly who’s been keeping you busy,” Martha replied, her voice laced with amusement.

Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord as she searched for the right words. “We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”

“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Because I need details, woman.”

“Not like that,” Evelyn said quickly, her face flushing. “But we kissed. A lot. And it felt... it felt like everything else just disappeared. Like the only thing that mattered was him.”

There was a long, dramatic pause on Martha’s end before she said, “Oh, honey. You’re in deep.”

Evelyn let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair. “It’s terrifying, Martha. I haven’t felt like this in so long. And the last time I did—”

“—it didn’t end well,” Martha finished gently. “I know. But this isn’t that. You said it yourself—Logan’s different. He’s not some flaky guy with cold feet.”

Evelyn hesitated, her grip on the phone cord tightening. “You’re right, he’s not. But seeing William at the fair the other night—I wasn’t ready for that.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Wait. What? You saw him? What happened?”

“He was just... there,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I spotted him with some woman, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. And then he walked up and said hello like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t—” Her words caught in her throat, and she took a steadying breath. “Like he hadn’t left me standing there on my wedding day.”

“God,” Martha breathed, her voice brimming with sympathy and anger. “What an absolute jerk. What did you do? Did you tell him to shove off?”

Evelyn let out a hollow laugh. “I wish. I just... froze. I could barely get a word out. But Logan could tell something was off, but he didn’t press. ”

“That man,” Martha said, her voice practically glowing with approval. “He’s a saint. Or maybe a knight in flannel armor. Either way, he sounds like the real deal.”

“He is,” Evelyn admitted quietly, a warmth spreading through her chest. “But seeing William brought everything back. The humiliation, the hurt, the fear that I’ll never be good enough for someone to stick around.”

“Alright, stop right there,” Martha interrupted, her voice firm. “First of all, you are more than enough. Don’t let some spineless coward make you question that. Second, Logan isn’t your ex. He’s proven that over and over again. The way you talk about him—how he looks after you, how he’s there for you—it’s night and day compared to William.”

Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears, nodding even though Martha couldn’t see her. “It’s just hard sometimes, you know? Trusting myself to not mess it all up again.”

“It’s hard because you care,” Martha said gently. “And that’s a good thing. It means this matters to you. But you’re not doing this alone anymore. Logan’s in this with you. Let him be.”

There was a long pause, and Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord. “There’s... something else,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Martha said, her tone immediately shifting to playful curiosity. “What is it?”

“We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”

“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Did you...?”

“No, no,” Evelyn interrupted quickly, her voice dropping to a whisper even though she was alone. “But it got... close,really close.”

Martha let out a low whistle. “Look at you. So, what happened?”

“We were just talking, and then one thing led to another,” Evelyn said, her voice faltering slightly. “It was—God, Martha, it was amazing. But then I panicked and pulled back.”

“Did he freak out?”

“No,” Evelyn said softly. “He didn’t push, didn’t make me feel bad. He just held me. I don’t know. It felt different. Like he actually cares.”

Martha let out a dreamy sigh. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good one, babe. I mean, if a man can handle that without making it weird, he’s a keeper.”

Evelyn smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “I think I’m falling for him, Martha. And that scares the living hell out of me.”

Martha’s voice softened. “It’s okay to be scared. But from everything you’ve told me, Logan’s not going anywhere. He’s patient, he listens, and he clearly cares about you. You just have to let yourself believe you deserve it.”

“I’m trying,” Evelyn said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And you will,” Martha replied firmly. “You’ve come so far already. Just... don’t overthink it. Let yourself enjoy what you have with him.”

Evelyn nodded, even though Martha couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Martha.”

“Anytime,” Martha said cheerfully. “Now, when do I get to meet this Logan? Because I need to make sure he’s good enough for my best girl.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Evelyn said, laughing lightly. “But I’ll keep you posted.”

“You better,” Martha replied. “And hey—if he cooks, don’t let him go. A man who can handle a stove and look good doing it? That’s a keeper.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, the tension in her chest loosening further. “I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

“Good,” Martha said, her grin evident even through the phone. “And call me soon. I want all the updates.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Evelyn promised, hanging up the phone and leaning back on her couch.

The weight of the conversation lingered, but it felt lighter now, less like a burden and more like something she could carry.

Chapter 6

______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library @pedroscurls @britttzy267 @aliensfeltmyjoy @steviebbboi

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[geniarts]

BillFord is canon

This was the title of a post I made on my previous tumblr account 6 years ago (acc was banned for unknown reason and I can't see my posts). Now, with the kind help of @decaying-dimension who gave me HD scans of the Book of Bill pages, I want to make a new summary of the subject.

You know, a month ago I was really surprised to see all those BillFord posts. Like people only realized it just recently even though there were plenty of hints in the series and especially in Journal 3. Back then, when I tried to say something about Bill and Ford relations, I got only hate and accusations. So now I feel a sense of triumph as all my thoughts were correct. Now let's see why we can say BillFord is in fact a canon.

Ford's feelings. Well, this point is so obvious that I'm really amused some people still can't take it right and keep talking about abuse, manipulations, etc. Yes, Bill used Ford to achieve his goal and then broke his heart, but those two years before his betrayal were the happiest years of Ford's life.

Ever since his childhood, Ford was teased for his fingers and had such deep communication issues that he gladly moved to a secluded place in the woods. He wished to someday become famous and show all his abusers that they were wrong. He wanted to be a hero, not a freak. He needed attention, admiration, recognition, and Bill gave him just that.

Ford called himself a Cipherholic, and that he was. Just think about a guy who turned his own house into a shrine. He was so obsessed with Bill that he collected every Bill artifact he could find, and in addition, surrounded himself with glass pyramids and dozens of hand drawn portraits all around his study.

Some people said that this wasn't a romantic feeling, just a religious one, but you know what? If you don't love someone with all your heart, you wouldn't be eager to see him in your dreams, you wouldn't reflect about the complex fates that brought you and him together, you wouldn't choose him over your only loyal friend. (Speaking of fate, in the Book of Bill there's a picture of baby Ford reaching for a yellow triangle as a sign that their destinies will be tied together) My, Ford even saw Bill's image in the stars! This was the most romantic thing in the whole Journal 3.

Ford trusted Bill so much he let him into his body and mind, and this is the highest level of trust a man could ever give. Bill was his beloved Muse, his sunshine, the center of his life, and he didn't want to hear anything bad about him. Ford ignored all the warnings like some blind lover and even kicked Fiddleford because he trusted Bill more than his old friend.

So now we clearly see that Ford didn't consider Bill just some kind of deity, but his partner, his closest friend, his beloved.

I won't speculate if there was something between them during "karaoke night" as I'm sure in this case Ford wouldn't behave the same way he always did (or maybe he just forgot the ending of that night :)) but the whole picture of them drinking together and the excitement Ford felt at that moment... well I'm sure he wouldn't mind if "one thing led to another" to its peak ;)

Bill's betrayal wounded Ford very badly and I can understand why he vowed to take revenge on him. He spent 30 years seeking information about Bill and building a weapon capable of destroying him, so we can say the most part of his life was dedicated to Bill in one way or another. Even now that he's reunited with his family, he can't get rid of his thoughts about Bill, and I doubt he will ever be able to.

Bill's feelings aren't so obvious as he's a hardened liar and pretender. That's why most people saw only one side of his personality, but even 6 years ago there were some hints of his inner thoughts and motives. The Axolotl said Bill was pretending to be happy, but deep inside he missed his home that he couldn't even return to. Hirsch also said that he used the concept of Flatland (a book written by Edwin Abbott) where triangles were one of the lowest classes, so this was another reason for Bill to seek power and to show others they were wrong about him (just like Ford).

Now in the Book of Bill we clearly see him having issues after destroying his home dimension. Even though he tries to deny his guilt, these thoughts are torturing him, and "the ghosts of his family are haunting him still” (a code from TBOB). He even called himself a monster while talking to Ford! There's no way such an egomaniac would call himself that if he didn't realize he deserved this. After his break up with Ford, he went to the bar to get drunk and forget, but he couldn't. He said Ford was his pawn, but in fact, Bill needed Ford more than Ford needed him.

After losing his home Bill didn't find a place where he could be happy again. He gathered some interdimensional scum around him and tried to numb his pain by torturing and abusing inhabitants in other worlds. He spent trillions of years doing this, but he still didn't get what he wanted - to be needed, to be loved. And he got all of this from Ford.

Ford's sincere adoration and devotion made Bill feel something new, something so important and necessary, but also something he didn't know how to deal with. He was scared, he never thought that he was able to make such a deep connection to another person... to a _mortal_ one. His phrase "handcuffing your happiness to a mortal is like gluing yourself to a time bomb ‘till death do us part’” is the saddest thing in the whole book. Bill tried to convince himself that their breakup was the right thing because these thoughts were really unbearable for him.

But despite all of this, he tried so hard to get Ford back. He invited him twice, and the first one was right after Ford's attempt to kill him. Moreover, it was during that moment Bill was sure he became the ruler of Earth and didn't need Ford's assistance anymore, so he asked him to join just because he wanted Ford to be with him.

What he didn't understand was that Ford hated him for all the pain he caused him and his family. For Bill it was just entertainment, so he couldn't understand why Ford was so upset. But I think there's a potential opportunity for both of them if Bill finally finds courage to admit his mistakes and to improve himself. He just has to look deeper inside himself and allow his remorse, his pain and his true wishes to take place in his soul. And I'm sure if he sincerely asks for help, Ford wouldn't turn his back on him.

[saintsenara]

I’m increasingly intrigued by the idea of Harry/Kingsley.

I’ve always thought that Harry would be inclined to go for people considerably older than him; I think we see this even with his crushes on Bill, Tom, Cedric etc Even arguably Sirius.

Kingsley is good humoured (giving Sirius them Quibblers ah I love you Kings) and he’s very attuned to Harry’s self-esteem etc (Prefect thingie… side note: Harry absolutely should not have been Prefect. He would’ve hated it and would’ve neglected his duties severely)

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i am also inclined to back this.

kingsley is obviously a great laugh, he got along really well with sirius, and harry likes his style. plus, vernon is canonically ready to risk it all for kingsley, so think how jealous he'd be. there’s no way that wouldn't motivate harry to put the moves on the minister.

but there's also a really interesting dynamic brought it by the fact that this is undoubtedly only going to happen as a post-war pairing... which is that i think it's extremely plausible to suggest that harry and kingsley's approaches to how the aftermath of the conflict is dealt with [and their reflections on their roles in the war] are going to be very different, in a way which introduces some lovely, compelling tension into the mix.

harry's view of the war is of a struggle between a singular force of evil - voldemort - and a singular force of good - himself - which he sees as existing outside of the structures of normal society. during deathly hallows, he really doesn't spare much mental energy for the fact that voldemort's forces are running the state - above all in that he thinks that hogwarts is a place of normality and safety, and is far more shocked than is reasonable to discover this isn't the case when he arrives at the castle.

and this builds on something which always strikes me in order of the phoenix - that, even though harry spends the first five chapters of the book absolutely furious that he's been subjected to an information blackout by the order, he completely ceases to care about their work the second he knows it's primarily focused on threats to the state and its institutions [so from c. 6 onwards], to the extent that, by the ninth chapter of the book, harry has circled back to being pleased about molly weasley's statement that he's as good as her son and wanting her to keep thinking it, and no longer believes sirius has much useful to tell him about the anti-voldemort movement.

[which everyone seems to overlook, for some reason...]

this all makes sense, obviously, given harry's genre archetype. the series is about him and voldemort and the mystical connection between them, this can only be explained to him by a single mentor-figure [dumbledore], the order are - essentially - set-dressing.

but from a watsonian perspective, it's the spark for a really interesting post-war premise - that harry thinks everything is fine once voldemort's dead. kingsley - in contrast - will recognise that the rot goes much deeper. not least because he becomes minister and immediately has to try and get the government working when he knows the entire civil service stayed in post during the war.

i have always been really committed to believing that many of the extra-canonical bits of information about harry's extraordinary mercy which jkr has dropped since the series ended - especially the detail that he intervenes to get lucius malfoy off all charges, entirely and only because malfoy didn't do anything to harm him at a crucial time - must have infuriated kingsley.

[and kingsley must already have been a little infuriated, since dumbledore essentially assigned the order pointless busy-work - which nonetheless required them all to risk their lives daily - to pass the time until harry and voldemort could face off for their final showdown...]

and so i think there's so much potential for tension there, in a fic which is initially about a bit of post-war age-gap blowing off steam... but which then has to deal with the thorny [and therefore erotic] questions of justice, power, forgiveness, and so on...

[and harry should never have been a prefect. justice for dean, i say.]

[simsor-talks]

Ok so I'm a huge Ford stan (haha get it, because his na--) and I love this little meow meow and I love to see all the content that everyone is cooking after The Book of Bill. However.

I'm Not a big Billford fan 😭 and I'm not making this post to say I hate the Billford content on my dash. I'm making this post to say that I love all the Billford content on my dash. And now there are a few other things that I've been thinking about: a) I'm actually a Fiddauthor shipper, b) I'm practicing my improvising/storytelling skills, c) I like the Billford content even though I don't ship it, d) I love me some good angst. I don't know how much sense it makes but it's not supposed to be a serious post anyway. So here's what I've been thinking:

Chronologically, Fiddleford and Stanford met at Backupsmore and became friends, (and they were roommates :0), right. Fidds gives massive bi/pan energy and we all agree that Ford is gay (though i headcannon him as aroace when in different context. He's cool either way), but given that Ford is an oblivious mf, he never realised that Fidds had a thing for him. Fidds on the other hand was fully aware the feeling wasn't reciprocated so he never made any move. Then they parted ways, Ford went to Gravity Falls, and Fidds kinda got over his crush and started his business and a family. But then Ford called him and guess what. He didn't get over his crush. While they worked together, Ford kinda-sorta started reciprocating? But then Bill happened. And he happened big, making Ford practically fall for him (let's be honest, by manipulating and using him but still), to a point where Ford wouldn't do anything without him. And Fidds obviously got jealous af, because Ford kept praising Bill and calling him his assistant and his muse, but he didn't say anything because he trusted Ford and that he knows what he's doing. I honestly think it was a Sam/Frodo +Gollum kinda thing? Where Bill started telling Ford that nobody really is trustworthy, and especially not Fidds, for working so closely to the project. But still they tested it, and the incident happened, Fidds fell into the portal and well. He decided to quit working on it, to forget everything about it, and we know what happened to him next. Ford then realized, that what Bill wants is dangerous, and that he's been lying to him and using him and he shuts down the portal, stops sleeping and then the Stan situation happened and this time he fell into the portal. Welp. Now, he's been travelling through the dimensions for 30 years, ofc he had time to think about his whole life a bit. I mean not that he'd admit to doing something wrong, but maybe he realized some things, maybe got to know his feelings a bit closer, you know. I mean, Bill was Going Through it in the meantime, actually mourning after the divorce, and alright, billford is canon, but Bill is still a little bitch and he's still a literal demon and he fucking ruined everyone's lives. Literally. Then Stan got Ford back, they lived their domestic fluff for a while (I mean Ford was sitting in the basement all the time but anyway) and he definitely heard that Fiddleford is still there somewhere. And honestly I think he was too scared to talk to him earlier, and maybe also too proud, because he would have to admit to being wrong lol. But I think after the Weirdmageddon, after defeating Ford's evil ex and after getting Stan's memories back, Ford and Fidds did some catching up, definitely explained some stuff and then there was old men yuri and they lived happily ever after, even with Ford on a boat with Stan in the middle of nowhere

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, these characters are constantly consuming my brain

Read it if you want basically the summary of Ford's backstory 😭

[velvetvexations]

on the topic of trans women being affected by transandrophobia, there has been a lot of recent discourse on twitter from TRFs over artworks that are assumed to be of trans women (but are usually of non-binary people, or a loving portrait of pre-transition trans woman drawn by her friend) appearing too “masculine.” In these discourses several butch and gender non conforming trans women have spoken up about feeling hurt to see their peers call art that looks like them (or is even explicitly *of* them) be called caricature or a troonjack. Following one of these events I saw a tweet bemoaning how butch transfems are *always* taking the “TMEs” side and betraying their sisters and that this made them “honorary transmascs who should be treated as such.”

It reminded me so distinctly of the bullying I received before I even realized I was trans for failing womanhood, and then the subsequent “gender traitor” treatment I received. I understand that trans women might not necessarily want to understand that treatment as being an extension of transandrophobia, and frankly I think the way those trans women and fems were being treated could as easily be called transmisogyny, it just made me think a lot about how transphobia can be deeply… circular I suppose in how we are punished. Now that I am broadly read as an effeminate man I deal with a lot of bullying from other men (cis and trans) that a lot of trans women could probably relate to from before they transitioned. We have a lot in common.

I'm becoming increasingly convinced that transradfems really fucking hate GNC trans women because they aren't pretty anime forcefem kink girly girls.

It would explain why they've painting other queers as obsessed with transmisogynistic caricatures their new thing, so they can make sure other trans women stay attractive to them. Hey, did you get any comfort from that post about love for butch t-girls? Yeah, sorry to break it to you, they're basically calling you Buffalo Bill. They think you're Tim Curry in RHPS. If a TME is ever nice to you it's because you're ugly and don't pass and they see you as a drag queen who they love so much more than real t-girls who of course all look like this fictional femboy I throw a raging fit about not canonically being transfem despite not even being in the fandom.

Having said that, lmfao I want to be an honorary transmasc, plllllease. I feel the most community with the transandrophobia-acknowledging part of the internet and with my experiences in life having already been extremely weighted towards interacting with AFAB trans people and cis men because I met people mostly through kin* and kink,** I have this sense of being an outsider that can't connect with people on that level.***

*actual proper "this is literally me in a past life" fictionkin are overwhelmingly AFAB to the point I don't think another AMAB person has ever even submitted an application to the server I'm in

**my kinks are weighted towards AFAB people and cis men; even with my misgendering kink I still have to wade through a billion posts for AFAB people to find one crumb of AMAB content

***still mad about that TRF who took me being sad about alienation and was like "of course no other transfem wants to talk to her she's so transmisogynistic" as though my problem with TRFs making me feel alienated from transfems is them having a problem with me and not me being proudly opposed to them

[annoyangle]

still processing... Euclydia...

More spoilery talk based on website and tBOB

//I think we absolutely deserve to hear Euclydia's stories and we deserve to hear them outside the context of Bill's distortions. At the same time though, I'm frustrated that we haven't been given enough information to actually judge Bill's case in full. There's plenty of support either way for: he did it purposefully and also: he did it on accident. He wanted to show them all in the punitive sense, and he wanted to show them all in the 'please understand me' sense. We have learned A LOT about Euclydia in the space of like, a week. We know the names of BILL's parents before we ever learned the name of Dipper and Mabel's parents. We know that Euclydians MAY or MAY NOT have been innocent of being destroyed, although there is that line about "EUCLYDIAN DEPT OF VISION SUPERVISION" and some vague noises here and there in the canon about 'irregulars' though it definitely is clearly NOT quite AS bad as Flatland's treatment of the same. Apparently Euclydia had things like velcro tabs and shoelaces and silly straws and eye doctors, so this was not an unadvanced species in general. But their voices are robot voices, and Bill has said 'flat world and flat dreams' about them, which was always somewhat metaphorical anyway, and more than a little dismissive. We also know it apparently operated on the physical logic of a Pac-Man game board (you go off screen to one side and come out on the other). If we take WM at face value, it had a flat ring around the world as well. They beg us to remember them. They ask why did you do it, Bill. The implication being that MOSTLY they do not understand, and that they were probably MOSTLY innocent.

Bill describes his family as stifling and getting in the way of his talents, and tells us that children at school used to make fun of him for 'setting fires with his mind' (and no one should take at ALL seriously those bits in tBOB where he says his birthday was a national holiday and that crap) - but the code we've gotten this week tells us that he was loved by his family, that they sang songs to him, that the hat he wears is either his father's hat or a copy. That he couldn't tie shoelaces until he turned 16. That now that he's being forced to confront all this he spends all his time in art therapy drawing red and blue triangles we are strongly encouraged to interpret as representations of his parents. (Another Stan parallel and let's not even try and make this and Theraprism AND the statue all existing all make sense with CANON CONFIRMATION Bill is still in Stan's head post-series, at least in part, right now AND whatever happened to Gus Burnside as well and which universe was THAT supposed to be happening in?!) What I can't seem to find in all this is the ground of truth. Bill's lies are lies. He's in Stanley's head. He's in the statue. He's in the Theraprism. He set poor ol' Gus on fire. He hated his world and wanted it burned. He loved his world and it was all a ghastly mistake.

This is just REALLY hard to wrap a head around. If Bill is all of these things simultaneously, then, well, EVERY CONSPIRACY IS TRUE and all that. And we're stuck in the worst kind of multiverse: one where there is NO GROUND RULE at all, and it's basically anything goes any time.

Let me just say, as a roleplayer? MAN AM I AGAINST THIS. There has to be some bright line drawn SOMEWHERE.