#I think this has to do with Alaska?

[betty-bourgeoisie]

I do appreciate uptight and formal Alfred, but I also need more Northwest Alfred who considers black jeans and cargo pants to be "dress pants", wears utilikilts to weddings, thinks a flannel is formal as long as it's buttoned all the way to the top, and who's biggest etiquette rules are that you should always have vegan options at a party, and that you should always share your weed with friends.

[8thparadox]

X-Men! I just love drawing lineups it's so fun and relaxing This is for my AU/Timeline I've put together. at this point it is 1975, but the X-Men don't have their first mission until 1976. I'm planning on drawing the other members of the X-Men and other designs for these guys as they grow and change.

[alaskan-wallflower]

I’m sorry you are getting sent Brody hate! But comparing absences to Jordan who misses shows because he’s a literal father and has been open about his health issues is NOT ok. Also I believe Renni has missed more shows than Brody but nobody says anything because he isn’t the lead. And Renni has missed shows for a valid reason and is now getting surgery. Brody has valid reasons like every Broadway actor! He’s literally done most shows in the last month besides like 5 which is A LOT for Pony. Also wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on vocal rest!

i mean like…i’m not brody so i’m not rly offended by it? tone is hard over text and i probably sound like i’m trying to be a smartass, i’m not-i’m not offended or anything or even suggesting you HAVE to like him. i’m just saying it’s exhausting to deal with? i get i’m the main person people go to about drama and whatever(not even the right word) because ill admit, i feed into it. and i’m trying to get better at not feeding into it because i know it’s only giving a reaction-it’s just…hard? because i’m very opinionated and u stand by my beliefs and i hate to throw in the towel (ha) but yeah. again, i know that i’m the person people go to to stir up controversy (i’m glad i am because i’d hate for any other BG fans to get sent some of the shit i do-again, it’s not like i’m offended? it’s just like…why harass people over content you don’t like? if you don’t like the actor or the media then don’t interact with the fans. that’s like me going to to a bunch of taylor swift fans and saying i hate her music and purposefully trying to stir up trouble.

comparing actors from completely separate shows is unfair too. especially if one is in hadestown and one is in outsiders. those are two very very very VERY different plays. and i doubt the reason jordan isn’t absent as much is because he wants to “salvage his reputation’ because we never (and never need to) know what’s going on in an actors life. there could’ve been plenty of other reasons JF was absent so much. (edit but i reread the ask and i didn’t know he’s a father and had health issues….its stupid to compare the two.) but i’m not familiar with him so i’m not gonna speak on him.

brody’s absences are literally no one’s business. yes, i get it’s disappointing that he’s not there. but there are two amazingly talented understudies who cover him and if the musical thought brody could do all eight days they wouldn’t give him an understudy.

it’s just tiring. i don’t mind answering questions but like…you know i’m a fan of his, a fan of the musical. so sending outsiders/brody hate to me just seems stupid. just don’t interact with me. it’s not that hard.

[goldenotebook]

i finished all stars 2 today and i got to say the one i was so excited to see was katya (because i love her) but seeing alyssa was so cool and knowing she is on GAS makes me so happy, i feel like she was the one who showed more growth from her previous season. in fact i found it crazy that phi phi was so mad at alyssa for voting ginger out, because she was so right in looking at people's performance during the competition and not only the weeks challenge (and you can see that the whole reason why alaska has her breakdown is because she's afraid of being judged based on the day and not her consistency throughout the season - like being so close and having one thing making you lose everything), she truly comes out as the most honest and sweet of the whole AS2 bunch and although I'm grateful for roxxxy's awful iconic line on read u wrote u i do wonder what would've happen if detox saved alyssa instead... (not that i think it would've changed top three but well)

[isanyonetoknow]

[ID: screenshot of the beginning of a post by tumblr user asaltysquid. It begins with "It's the American educational system and film propaganda. I legit didn't know Mexico had metropolitan cities until I was 21. US curriculums simply don't talk about other countries outside of their". The last phrase, "about other countries outside of their" is partially cut off so that only the top half is visible. End ID]

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry

[skyburger]

i dont remember where i saw it but shoutout to whoever made me realize revolver ocelot is really the only guy in foxhound who doesn't have any crazy powers or talents like. Hes just really good at lying to everyone and spinning guns i guess

[batboyblog]

But I don't live in a swing state?!

every 4 years I see people talking about how they live in a red state (or more rarely a blue state) so their vote doesn't matter and I just want to briefly point out that I think nearly every state is either a swing state for the Presidential election, having a key Senate Race that will decide control of the Senate, has one or more key House races that'll decide control of the House, or is having an important Governor's race that'll could flip control of the state

Presidential Swing states:

Arizona

Georgia

Michigan

Nevada

North Carolina

Pennsylvania

Wisconsin

Key Senate Races:

Arizona

Florida

Maryland

Michigan

Montana

Nevada

Ohio

Pennsylvania

Texas

Wisconsin

States With Key House Races:

Alabama

Alaska

California

Colorado

Connecticut

Florida

Illinois

Indiana

Iowa

Kansas

Maine

Maryland

Michigan

Minnesota

Montana

Nebraska

Nevada

New Hampshire

New Jersey

New Mexico

New York

North Carolina

Ohio

Oregon

Pennsylvania

Texas

Virginia

Washington

Wisconsin

Swingable Governor Races:

New Hampshire

North Carolina

there are lots of local and state level races that are very important to, but my point was basically odds are very very good, you live somewhere where your vote will help decide what America looks like in 2025. Don't get tricked into thinking just because your state isn't one of the ones always mentioned in the news as a swing state that it doesn't matter what you do

[bluedestinybluebird]

Apparently, you can gain a lot when filling in visa application.

[thenevarranaccord]

Tina would look at Judy the way Judy looks at Honeybee. (“A cool, confident, wise older girl? Amazing!” and meanwhile Judy and Honeybee are both the actual biggest dorks. Tina would have strong feelings about Judy’s prom story.)

Wolf and Honeybee are filming the family vacation so that they can use the edited footage to advertise their videography company. They ask Linda about cool film locations around Seymore’s Bay and she decides to just take them on a field trip. Chaos ensues.

Moon looks at Louise. “So, what do you do for fun around here?” They’ll have about three hours of fun, and then one of them breaks a bone.

Bob would think Beef is really cool and probably get really nervous and flustered, they also both have autism

[em-prentiss]

Ice cold

————

In which you have freezing hands, and Aaron warms them up for you.

Cw: fem!bau!reader—I think it could also be read as gn reader, getting together, fluff, first kiss, no use of yn

Word count: 1.7k

This is my first time writing a reader insert, so please be gentle with me lol. I’ve been wanting to write an Aaron x reader for ages and this idea finally came to me last night. Idk if I’ll continue writing these, but if you have any prompts let me know! It took me ridiculously long to come up with this one haha <3

————

The cold bites at your exposed hands and you shiver, dropping your pen and notepad into your coat pockets because they’re all but useless now, your fingers close to snapping in half. You leave Aaron to jot down notes of the crime scene you’re in, keeping your hands in your equally freezing pockets in a poor attempt at keeping them warm.

Who has the energy to dump and mutilate a body in the woods in the middle of January, anyway?

“Isolated and hard to find, safe to say he’s a local.” You murmur, tucking your chin into the collar of your coat. You curl your numb fingers into your palm, cursing quietly at the stiffness in them.

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “One with experience, too. No blood spatter, no drag marks. He could’ve wrapped them in tarps.” He clicks his pen closed and slides it into his pocket along with his notepad, making you sigh in relief at the thought of leaving soon. “We’ll know more once Morgan and Rossi come back from the ME.”

You nod silently, clenching your fingers around the cold fibers of your coat pocket as you shiver again. Aaron’s gaze slides to you. 

“You okay?” He asks.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you grumble, hunching your shoulders and trying to wrap your coat tighter around your body. Your hands have gone fully numb now, clenched into icy fists inside your pockets. “My hands froze over. They’re like ice blocks.” You frown, your jutted bottom lip scratching against the wool of your coat.

Aaron smiles amusedly, his heart warming at the sight of your furrowed brows, your chin tucked into your coat for warmth. You shift slightly from foot to foot, subconsciously huddling closer to him and his endless, blazing warmth. 

He turns his back on the deserted crime scene and focuses instead on you, his eyes lingering on the flush on your cheeks, your skin bitten from the cold. He looks perfectly warm, you think grouchily, in his stupid large coat and his stupid neatly wrapped scarf.

“And yet when we went to literal Alaska you didn’t have any complaints,” he says. 

You huff indignantly, “Excuse you, at least in Alaska I knew it was going to be—” You cut off as his fingers wrap around your wrists and gently pull your hands from your pockets.

Immediately the cold bites at them again, but that’s not what makes you falter. “What are you doing?” You ask as he cups both of your hands between his. Distantly, you think it’s a stupid question. But his hands are so warm, large and completely engulfing yours, making you feel like you just stuck them in an oven. You let out an involuntary sigh, your brain going blank at the sudden heat from his hands.

Aaron ignores your question. “You weren’t lying,” he says mildly, bending his head to look at the way your nails were turning blue. He brings your hands up to his face and blows warm air on the blue tips of your fingers, massaging them with circular motions to force the cold out of them. Your heart picks up at the way your hands disappear beneath his, what’s visible of them looking small in his gentle grip.

Your skin is icy beneath his own. “Jeez, are you anemic or something?” He looks up at you and his lips tilt upward at the flush on your cheeks, deeper now than it was before, and you both know it’s not from the cold.

“No,” you squeak, the excessive heat of his hands rendering you incoherent. His thumbs rub gentle circles onto your palms, slowly forcing the warmth back into them. “Just terrible circulation.”

Aaron hums and looks back down at your hands, massaging them thoroughly until you start to regain the feeling in your fingers. You waggle them experimentally and he smiles a little, moving his thumbs up to your knuckles and rubbing them slowly.

You can feel your blush deepen as you look at him. His gaze is fixed on your hands, utterly focused on his task as if it were the single most important thing on his mind today, as if you didn’t have any pressing concerns like a team waiting for your feedback or a serial killer needing to be caught.

By the time he’s moved to your wrists your whole body is warm, your blood buzzing under your skin. He’s involuntarily shifted closer to you, your hands held so close to his chest your fingertips ghost against his shirt. 

His warm fingers brush over your wrist, catching your fluttering pulse, and your breath is trapped in your throat. Aaron presses your palms together and secures his hands over yours, finally done with his task. The warmth of your joint hands travels to your cheeks, the way his thumbs absently skate over the heel of your hands making your whole body flush. “Warm enough now?” He murmurs.

Just about to catch fire, actually. But you nod. “You’re a useful partner in conditions like these, Agent Hotchner. What with your furnace-like hands.” You try to joke through your racing heartbeat.

He chuckles lightly, his dimples digging into his cheeks. His hands are still holding on to yours. You’re glad for that, because otherwise you’re sure you would’ve risen on your tiptoes and pressed a thumb to each dimple, watching the way your fingers dip into the crevice. 

“Happy to be of service. Anything else I can warm up for you?” His eyes are like sun warmed honey, gazing into yours, and the words leave your mouth before you can think about them.

“My lips are cold too.”

Oh god.

You drop your gaze as your cheeks start to flame, a jittery nervousness suddenly making your stomach hurt. You try to tug your hands out of his grip but Aaron holds on tighter, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and holding you in place. 

You’re still looking down at your joint hands when he clears his throat. “I can help with that,” he says evenly, as if his own heart isn’t racing abnormally fast.

Your head snaps up. “What?” You breathe, frozen in place as he lets go of your hands. You don’t even register the sudden cold, your whole focus on the way he takes your face into his palms, his warm fingers pressing against your cold cheeks.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Aaron asks. His face is serious, all hints of his previously playful smile gone. Briefly you start to wonder if this is one of your many dreams about him, but his hands sear your skin, the icy air burns your lungs as you raggedly breathe in and out. 

You swallow, your throat unbearably dry, and nod. “Yes.” You grip the lapels of his coat, feeling the soft fibers between your fingers.

His face transforms. The hard lines soften, his seriousness melting away as he smiles again. The breath returns to your lungs. “Thank god,” he says bluntly, and you laugh, butterflies in your stomach, in your veins. You grin at him as his thumbs stroke your jaw, his fingertips sliding into your hair as he tilts your face up to his.  

“Your efforts at flirting are tragic, by the way,” he murmurs, just before he presses his lips to yours and steals your indignant reply. Immediately you melt into his arms, one hand slipping into his coat and the other resting on the hard line of his jaw. You always wanted to touch it, and as your fingers skate over it, wander over the skin that meets his neck, you feel his erratic pulse beating.

It’s good to know you’re not the only one ridiculously affected.

Aaron reluctantly pulls away when you both are breathless, his lips turning up into a grin at the sight of your dazed eyes. He leans in close and presses soft, gentle kisses on your lips—just to make sure they’re properly warmed up. 

You slip your hand into his hair and sigh—the cold has nothing on you now—just about to kiss him properly when his phone rings.

Aaron steps back and the biting cold replaces his warmth. You shiver as he digs his hand into his pocket and takes out his phone, your lips abnormally warm and your hands slowly returning to their once freezing state. 

“Yeah Dave,” he answers, his eyes still on you. You jut your bottom lip and he grins, his hand reaching for yours. He links your fingers together and softly runs his thumb over yours, making your cheeks flush again. “Sorry, we ran into traffic on the way. We’ll be there in an hour or so.”

Aaron ends the call and you laugh as he tugs you to the car, your fingers still linked. “What?” He smiles and you beam back.

“Traffic?” You raise your brows. 

He rolls his eyes. “What did you want me to say? ‘Sorry I got carried away kissing my beautiful subordinate’?” You reach the car and he opens the door for you, but you don’t get in. 

Your heart skips at his words. He smiles and you finally reach up and place your thumb into his dimple, your own smile spreading. “Yes,” you say simply, unable to believe you can finally do this. “You know they have a running bet on us.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss the divot in his cheek.

Aaron’s skin warms beneath your lips. His hand falls to the curve of your waist and he squeezes lightly. “I know,” his voice comes out a little tight and you smile. He clears his throat and gently pushes you into the car. “The faster you get in, the faster we can collect. And we’ll use that money for our date, yeah?” 

“Deal.” You grin and get into the car, Aaron’s gentle hand guiding you into the seat. He can’t help but give you another kiss before he closes the door, your lips sweet and soft between his own.

You sigh as he climbs into the driver’s seat, your cheeks delightfully warm and your hands only slightly chilly. Aaron pulls out onto the road and his hand finds yours again. 

You thread your fingers between his and look out the window, feeling absurdly grateful for the cold woods you were in.

[alaskan-wallflower]

i hope this doesn’t come off as weird or oversensitive but the death row au feels kinda disrespectful for actual people who were innocent but sent to death? maybe you can explain your reasons for it more but idk

oh no, i get what you’re talking about! i’ve thought about that a little bit because i have heard stories of actual innocent people being sentenced, however that’s why im doing so much research on it so i can make it as respectful as i can-i’ve heard about that happening and my reason for it is mainly just because i thought it could be interesting and i’ve heard of a few aus involving like…johnny being put into prison and stuff and u was thinking more so about that than anything-and its more realistic to have him sentenced like that since that’s how murders trials were carried out-it doesn’t really focus on him in the row too much either, it more so focuses on the him being released faction than anything.

i personally don’t think there’s anything wrong with having these topics being portrayed, so long as it’s being done carefully and respectfully, which i’m trying my best to hold through on. ive been researching this since july to make sure everything i was saying was factual and ill continue to do so-again, i think taking a darker subject like this can be done, but obviously i’ve been working hard to try and make it both factual while also being respectful. plenty of media has stuff about death row and such, many movies and shows have been made and it is a sensitive topic, but i don’t think it’s not something that couldn’t be used.

i’m trying to find the right wording a lot of the time with my posts too because i don’t want it to seem like i’m romanticising or glorifying such a horrible thing, but i do apologise if i have come off as disrespectful-ill be more conscious of my wording and such.

but i dunno. i’ve never had any problems with it but if it has come off as disrespectful i do apologize.

[media-illiterate]

Its so weird. And it only gets weirder when you consider that according to the world bibles (which are. tbh. full of their own issues) America seems to be right on the edge of collapse.

There are massive food and fuel riots happening when the bombs drop. The military is deploying power armor against American citizens. Soldiers are defecting, sometimes en masse like with Capt. Maxson and what will go on to become the BOS. There's an active Canadian resistance spreading the army thin. The public is protesting the Canadian annexation and the accompanying atrocities.

Add in the strife later games sneak in and it seems like the American government was on the verge of collapse before the war. If the bombs hadn't dropped its quite likely that America would've collapsed anyway from the strain.

And yet, Fallout 4 still gives us suburban bliss as its opening. No mention of rationing or riots or civil strife. Just white picket fences and the american dream.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A devastating and confusing thing about the Fallout setting, when you explore the pre-war aspects, is what the creators think about pre-war America. In the first games we only get hints of the pre-war world, but they seem to be some sort of wild fascist nation invading Canada. In Fallout 1, the first thing we're introduced to of the pre-war society is seeing a soldier shoot civilians and laughing.

Now, for the first 2 games and New Vegas we don't really know much. What we know is that there's a fascist military group known as the enclave who were a sort of US deep state even before the war, and that the government teamed up with corporate interests to preform vaguely MKULTRA-ish experiments with the Vaults. Basically, the government was an extreme version of the 50s American jingoism and McCarthyism.

This is well and dandy, I guess issues come up more when we get to the later games, especially 4, where it seems like none of this extreme plotting and societal civil unrest which would exist is seen. The society as presented in 4 also seems quite progressive, gay people are featured in the opening, and none of the baggage of say, civil rights not existing are included. Now on a baseline, I don't want settings to be more conservative, homophobic and sexist etc., but it becomes a very confusing setting when it's displayed both as this jingoist extreme thing with fascist tendencies aswell as a progressive place where everyone is seemingly equal. If you're focusing on the 50s as your setting, and American nationalism in the 50s, then you can't have McCarthyism spoofs and anti-communism as a societal paranoia norm while also general equality is the norm without misunderstanding why McCarthyism and nationalist jingoism is bad. A massive harm done in anti-communist paranoia is how it degrades and vilifies any progressive movements (women's rights, civil rights, homosexuality) as being morally un-American and therefore connected to communism. To ignore this just makes any critique of MacCarthyism and jingoism weird!

Basically, pre-war America in Fallout 4 becomes this both sides thing where America is both pure and equal and white fences in every instance that we see as the player (the intro), while also supposedly being this dystopic MacCarthyist hellscape that's broadcasting gladly about their war crimes in Canada, and wants to root out communism. I guess the only fix for this issue without getting into the fine print like they had to do is just not to focus too much on the pre-war world.

[luveline]

more spencerxpregnant bombshell reader please 😩😩💗 i love it sm

“I can’t believe we’re back here again,” you say, your breath turning to white puffs of fog in the brisk air. “I hate Alaska.”

“I can’t believe we’re so heavily wounded,” Hotch murmurs. 

You raise your brow, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He wears a quarter-zip sweater fastened to the neck, his pale skin grey with the cold. He’s frowning, which isn’t unusual, but you can tell now the difference between his resting expression and true perturbance. 

“Right? When was the last time you had half a team?” you ask. 

“A long time ago.” He thinks on it for a moment before shaking his head, and straightening up. “I’m lucky you could come at all.” 

You hold your baby bump, the distension bigger than ever and your growth showing no signs of stopping. The baby moves often enough to have desensitised you, but anytime they stop you stop yourself and wait again with a racing heart. The baby’s wiggling now right above your ribs, it feels like.

“Is Spencer taking good care of you?” Hotch asks. 

You nudge him mildly. “Worried?” 

“Of course not. Watching you two has…” Hotch, so rarely lost for words, smiles and takes your shoulder into his hand. “I’ve never been happier for someone.” 

“You know I can still make him blush?” you ask with a smug smile. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” His arm moves across your shoulders and then drops. “If this is getting too much, let me know. You know what’s most important now is your health and wellbeing.” 

“I’m a taken woman, sir.” 

“Enough,” he says, “I can send you home today, if you like.” 

Spencer and Emily come around the corner with two white bags hanging from their elbows. Spencer must catch the tail end of Hotch’s teasing, his mouth pinched with worry that quickly clears upon further investigation of your face. “You okay?” 

“Fine, just teasing.” Spencer steps into your space. “Hello?” 

He takes his scarf from his neck and wraps it around you, one gentle loop at a time. “Your breath is turning to liquid,” —he touches your cheek— “because the air is at dew point. Which means it’s super cold out and you still didn’t bring a scarf or hat.” 

“Imagine me in a bobble hat,” you laugh. “No, thanks.” 

He tucks the ends of the scarf into your coat and the loop of the scarf up over your chin. “You know the baby can feel the cold?” 

“What?” you ask, pulling the scarf up over your nose quickly. 

“Seriously. Not as much as you do,” he adds, sensing your worry, “but she can feel it.” 

You don’t know if the baby’s a she, just Spencer likes to think they are, and you don’t mind enough to correct him. You’ll both love whoever it is you have in the end, of course, and waiting’s half the fun. “You know what else they can feel?” you say. “Hunger.” 

He shows you the straining bag on his arm. “I know, dove,” he says quietly, a rare seriousness, a protectiveness about him that emerges more and more these days about him as he finds your hand. “Let’s go eat, okay? You should’ve had something hours ago.” 

“I felt sick.” 

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He kisses your cheek. 

Spencer leads the charge back the way you came to the hotel. Hotch catches your eyes as you follow and sends you a look that’s equal parts fond, approving, and bemused. 

“I’m sick of walking,” you say. 

“I can’t carry you,” Spencer says. 

“Is it me, or does he actually sound heartbroken?” Emily asks Hotch under her breath. 

Spencer is actually heartbroken. You lean heavily on him so he can feel useful, and so you can finally have a breather. You make it look easy, but being pregnant is very, very hard. 

[ckret2]

Chapter 66 of that fic about human Bill but he's not in this chapter so forget about him: Ford and Dipper go cryptid hunting!

This is pretty much a standalone chapter so if somehow you stumbled on this without seeing the rest of the fic, u can just, read it by itself as a standalone Dipper and Ford adventure. It's funny. Promise.

####

The camera turned on to reveal Dipper, illuminated sunset orange and cast in heavy shadows, holding the camera out at arm's length. "Welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained, anomaly #175: the Fremont Nightwigglers!" He held up a paper title card in his free hand. "I'm Dipper Pines, and today I'm honored to introduce our special guest star—" he turned the camera around to focus on Ford from behind, "—the one and only Dr. Stanford Pines, PhD times twelve—"

Ford laughed self-consciously. "Dipper, nobody's going to recognize my name outside of a few highly specialized academic fields—"

"—the scientist who developed the Theory of Weirdness—"

"That paper isn't even ready for peer review yet, and I can't take all the credit—"

"—and the coolest dimension-hopping monster-fighting mystery-investigating great uncle in the world!"

Ford paused thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll take that one."

"Tonight, we're on the trail of the Fremont Nightwigglers." The recording cut to CCTV footage from a much higher-budget cryptid-hunting show (which Dipper had recorded by aiming the camera at the TV). The footage showed two marshmallow-like creatures that seemed to consist solely of heads, long legs, and feet—smooth, ghostly white, and featureless except for black eyes. They wore denim jeans that covered their bodies from ankles to waists, and their legs seemed to bend jointlessly, like an octopus's arms or an elephant's trunk. "These weird armless creatures have been seen up and down the west coast states, leaving behind a wave of jeans thefts at clothing stores; but by the time local law enforcement has ruled out any human suspects, the true culprits are always long gone."

The recording cut back to Dipper, who'd taken the lead so he could turn around the camera and aim it at both himself and Ford. "Based on investigative research done by Dr. Pines in the 80s, we believe the Nightwigglers have a migratory route several years long that passes through California, Oregon, Washington, and Canada. More research is needed to find out if they travel as far as Alaska or Mexico. Locals believe each Nightwiggler creates an individual burrow around a communal gathering spot to hide in during the day, and at night they assemble in the communal spot to travel or forage in nearby towns."

Ford threw in, "Based on what the townspeople told me about their habits, they've been in Gravity Falls much longer than usual. It typically takes them a week or two to pass through the area, but this year there have been sightings for more than a month. Perhaps we'll find out why."

"And thanks to a hot tip from an in-the-know local"—the recording cut to a few seconds of footage of Wendy proving she could do a handstand on the split-rail fence around the Mystery Shack—"we know which assembly spot they're currently camping around! Tonight, we're trying to get the first deliberate footage of a Nightwiggler..." Dipper lowered the camera and turned toward Ford, "Hey, what'll we call a group of them? A flock? Herd? Meeting? If we're the first investigators to officially document the species, we get to come up with the name , right?"

Ford considered the question. "What about a wobble of Nightwigglers? Since their legs are so... wobbly."

"Sure, that works."

"Is this really your 175th episode?" Ford asked. "I've missed quite a few."

"Ye—well..." Dipper lowered the camera. It recorded his shoes as he walked. "So far I've got a list of 175 anomalies I want to do an episode on, but I've only recorded and posted thirty-something. I think you've seen them all except the two I've done this summer." He sighed. "I'm... kinda disappointed by it, honestly."

"Why? You should be proud of your work so far! You're the only person in the world who's caught footage of the Hide Behind."

"By accident."

"Because you learned how to identify its call, chased it through half the forest, and were prepared with the right equipment to record it. That wasn't luck, Dipper—that was your hard work."

"I guess," Dipper said grudgingly. "I just... wanted to have a lot more produced by now."

"Wh—You started these last June? That's about one every two weeks. That's a very impressive output."

"I made most of them last summer, I hardly did any over the last school year or this summer."

"You've been focusing on your studies, that's good."

"Yeah, but what about this summer? All I've done so far is borrow some of Robbie's music video footage to make an episode about zombies and record some footage I haven't edited yet about Pacifica's alpaca thief. I didn't even get any footage of the haunted doll crane game before it disappeared. Most of the time I've been just... hiding in Soos's room playing Bloodcraft: Overdeath"—(under his breath Ford muttered "Blood-craft over death?")—"or hanging out with Wendy and her friends, or helping Soos with the Mystery Shack, or just trying to avoid..." He trailed off, suddenly conscious of the camera still aimed at the ground. It had started recording footprints drying in the mud after the recent rain: soft indents like the pads of paws, but with no distinct toes, about the size and length of human feet. Dipper lifted the camera to better record the trail they were walking down.

"Well... there's nothing wrong with taking a break during the summer," Ford said. "Especially considering that your last summer was... quite a bit more exciting than most kids'—"

"That's just it!" Dipper said. "Last summer I did so much! I investigated your disappearance, I filled half of your third journal, I helped stop the apocalypse, I wrote a book with Mabel about solving mysteries and doing fun stuff, I recorded like twenty Guides to the Unknown... Compared to that, this summer I feel like I'm—falling behind."

"Falling behind what?"

"I don't know. But—I just—I... feel like..." He trailed off with a frustrated sigh. "I don't know."

Ford offered, "Maybe, like you're not living up to your own potential?"

"Yes! That's it," Dipper said. "I'm not trying to grow up too fast, I'm just worried I'll grow up before I've done all the stuff I'm supposed to do now. Like I'm already running out of time."

"Hmm..." Ford let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "Dipper, I'm probably the wrong person to be giving this advice, considering that I'm not exactly... the paragon of moderation when it comes to pursuing professional ambitions. But—remember that you're only thirteen. Right now, you don't need to be worried about graduating valedictorian and starting up an anomaly-hunting show and doing groundbreaking research into previously-unknown strange and wondrous creatures," Ford said. "You just need to focus on graduating valedictorian first. That's all I did with my high school years, and after that I still managed to rack up multiple PhDs before age 30. You've got plenty of time!" He said this with the confidence of a man who didn't realize having his life derailed by a manipulative alien villain was the only reason he didn't burn out hard by 1984. "Outside of that, just... worry about being a kid."

"Yeah. I guess you're right. Thanks, Grunkle Ford," Dipper said. "I keep worrying, though. I keep thinking, what if I'm wasting all my time on stuff that... just... doesn't matter? What if nothing I'm doing is actually important?"

Ford was silent a moment. "That's... a very existential question for your age. How long have you been worrying—"

Dipper hissed, "Grunkle Ford!" He jerked his camera up. "Is that fire?!" There was a faint orange glow in the distance between the trees.

"I think it is!"

Dipper whispered, "That's where I found the Nightwigglers' abanadoned campsite last time!"

"Did you see any signs that they knew how to start fires? Remains of a campfire?"

"I didn't notice anything."

"It could be a Scampfire..."

As quietly as they could, Dipper and Ford edged through the trees, Dipper all the while pointing the camera toward the light, until they found a narrow gap between two trees from which they could peer into the clearing.

There were three or four dozen Nightwigglers milling about in little clusters. Several had lit torches—sturdy sticks with the ends wrapped in fabric—which they carried by sticking the ends of the torches into their jeans' pockets.

"Dipper, look at the tops of their torches," Ford hissed. "Is that shredded denim?"

The camera zoomed in on the nearest torchbearing Nightwiggler. "I think so."

"We already knew they wore clothing—but they can make tools, too? How advanced are they..."

Ford trailed off as the clustered Nightwigglers separated, spreading out evenly into several rings. As the camera recorded, they began emitting a synchronized muffled humming; and then they began dancing, kicking their legs and turning in circles together. "Whoa," Dipper whispered. "Is this some kind of ritual?"

"What's its purpose?" Ford whispered back. "Recreation? Religion? Some sort of cultural event—?"

"Hold on. I think I recognize the song."

Ford and Dipper fell silent, watching in silence as the dance repeated a couple of times.

The Nightwigglers were doing the Hokey Pokey.

"Fascinating." The camera lurched sideways, and then turned toward Ford. Ford had stolen Dipper's journal from out of his vest pocket and was hastily taking notes on a blank page. "I had no idea Nightwiggler culture was so influenced by human culture. An hour ago, we didn't even know Nightwigglers have a culture. When could they have observed and learned the Hokey Pokey? It's not exactly a nighttime dance—do they spy on humans during the day?"

Dipper said, "What if we learned the dance from Nightwigglers?"

Ford stopped writing, looked up, and stared at Dipper, mind blown.

Dipper jerked the camera back toward the Nightwigglers as they filed out of the clearing. "Hey! Where are they going now?"

Dipper and Ford waited until the last Nightwiggler had left; and then they quietly followed.

####

After several minutes of silence except for the sound of footsteps, Ford said, "Are we headed toward Mabel's Fault?"

Dipper groaned. "I got enough of this place last week."

"Agreed." 

"Hey, you know Bill said we should rename it 'Bill's Fault'?"

Ford huffed. "Did he really? I don't believe it."

"Yeah. He tried to play it off like, 'oOOoh, I just want creEDit—'"

"That sounds like him—"

They came to a stop as the camera spied the Nightwigglers standing in the clearing around the fault, then they quickly moved off the path into the brush and crept closer. "What are they doing?" Dipper asked as they inched up to the tree line.

"I don't know—they're packed too tightly together for me to see."

"I've got an idea. Hold this." The camera bounced as Dipper passed it to Ford, who watched as Dipper climbed up one of the pine trees around the clearing. 

"Careful! There aren't a lot of low branches that can hold your weight."

"It's okay, Wendy showed me how to do this." Dipper held out his hand for the camera.

Ford passed it up to him. "What do you see?"

The camera foused on Mabel's Fault. "The Nightwigglers closest to the fault are taking off their jeans, ripping them into two separate legs, and... tossing them in the fault? Have you ever heard of this?"

"Never."

"Like a dozen have done it so far."

"Perhaps that's why they have to steal so many pairs of pants? But why..."

Dipper gasped. Tiny Nightwigglers had begun squirming out of the fault, each wearing a single denim pant leg, crawling around like inchworms with half the pant leg trailing behind them. The bigger Nightwigglers picked up the little ones with their feet and swaddled them in the excess fabric. "They're—I think they're baby Nightwigglers! Coming out of the fault!"

"Amazing! Is this how they reproduce?" Ford asked. "Is that why they travel the west coast—are they following the San Andreas Fault and the volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest?"

"Maybe that's why they've been in town so long," Dipper said. "Mabel's Fault wasn't here the last time they passed through."

"We'll have to find out what other towns they stay in the longest. How far is Fremont from the fault line—?"

"Hey," Dipper said, "A bunch more Nightwigglers took their jeans off. They're tying them in a circle." One of the torchbearer Nightwigglers knelt down and bowed forward, setting the jeans ring on fire; and it was tossed into the fault. The Nightwigglers that weren't carrying infants formed a circle and began Hokey Pokeying toward the fault.

"That definitely looks like a ritual," Ford said, "but why? To celebrate the births...?"

The ground rumbled. Dipper gasped and slipped several feet down the tree before he caught himself. When he refocused the camera, Mabel's Fault was several feet wider, and a fiery glow was rising up from within.

An enormous Nightwiggler, fifteen feet tall, climbed out of the fault. It wore a crown of flaming denim and tattered pants formed by stitching together many pairs of decades-old jeans. The Nightwigglers bowed down.

"Good lord," Ford breathed. "What is that? Did they summon it, or—or was it always down there?"

The giant Nightwiggler watched regally as its subjects danced around it. As they spun around and completed another repetition of the Hokey Pokey—that's what it's all a-BOUT—the giant punctuated the end of the dance with a ground-shaking stomp.

Dipper lost his grip on the tree. He and the camera crashed to the ground with a yelp. 

"Dipper! Are you alright?!"

"Ow... fine, probably just bruised."

The camera caught Ford kneeling to help Dipper sit up, and then Dipper grabbed the camera again as he stood. He pointed it back at the clearing.

Every single Nightwiggler, babies and giant included, was staring at them with wide black eyes.

Ford said, "Uh oh."

The giant let out a bellow like a muffled hunting horn.

The Nightwigglers charged.

Dipper and Ford ran away through the brush, screaming.

####

Dipper pointed the camera at his face. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks and arms were covered in small branch scrapes. "Still works," he reported to Ford.

"Great," Ford said. "That thing's hardy."

The camera jerked as Dipper tried to set it on a tree stump.

"Well, we got away with our lives," he said. "But... not without some losses."

He got the camera settled and backed up. He was wearing his vest zipped up around his hips like a skirt. Ford's trench coat was conspicuously buttoned up, and his legs were bare between his coat and boots. They both looked sheepish.

Ford said, "We've acquired some invaluable anthropological data, though."

"I'm calling this investigation a triumph," Dipper said.

Ford offered a hand. "High six!"

In the background, a skinny-legged Nightwiggler wearing Dipper's shorts darted through the trees.

####

(It's about time Dipper get a little personal attention. Hope you enjoyed and I look forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

[atlaculture]

Favorite Foods: Sokka

Since Sokka is almost always shown shoveling food down his gullet during meal scenes, I figured he prefers foods that he can stuff into his mouth quickly and in large quantities. Like Katara, I also feel his favorite foods would tie back to key memories in his life.

Sea Prunes (Row 1) - Sokka likes eating sea prunes even more than his sister does. Being Hakoda's favorite food, I think eating sea prunes allows Sokka to feel closer to his father. I think he prefers eating them either stewed in five-spice (five flavor soup) or just blanched and paired with a dipping sauce. Real-life sea prunes are small, leathery mollusks traditionally eaten by First Nation and Alaska Native groups along the west coast.

Muktuk - Muktuk is whale skin and whale blubber served raw, like sashimi. It's typically snacked on as the rest of the whale is being butchered for later consumption. Sokka has fond memories of his father's hunting crew bringing home a whale and his father offering him the first bite of muktuk.

Seal Jerky - Sokka's favorite portable snack. Seals are the largest animal that Sokka has ever successfully hunted on his own, so he feels a real sense of pride when he eats this jerky.

Polar Bear Stew - Stew made from polar bear meat. Polar bears are revered in Inuit culture as the greatest of all bears, so successfully hunting one is a considered an impressive feat. As such, polar bear stew is considered quite a delicacy in the SWT. Sokka has only had the dish once, thanks to the bravery and skill of his father's hunting team, and dreams of one day bringing home another polar bear for the whole village to enjoy.

Fermented Eider Egg - Eider is a species of arctic duck. Their eggs are buried underground and left to ferment. They're said to taste like a strong cheese. There's no deep reason why Sokka loves them, he just likes that he can stuff a bunch into his cheeks like a squirrel. ^_^

Green Kasha - Green Kasha refers to a mash of different tundra greens such as sourdock, rhodiola leaves, arctic willow, and mountain sorrel mixed with rendered blubber oil. The oil acts as an emulsifier as it slowly gets incorporated into the mash of greens. Green kasha is used as a dipping condiment for various types of arctic meat. Sokka likes it because it gives him a whole new way of enjoying his favorite foods.

Kumis - Kumis is a fermented dairy product traditionally made from mare’s milk. Sokka was introduced to the drink by Yue and the two often enjoyed the drink together--- the mild alcoholic content made them feel rather grown-up. The color of the drink also reminds Sokka of Yue's hair, so the drink is tied to Sokka's bittersweet memories of her.

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

[misery-has-no-company-now]

Not really touch-starved ig but...

If you want to hug him, you have to clear your schedule for the rest of the day because he's not letting go. If he trusts you a lot, this might even be the easiest way to get him to sleep (honestly everything about this boy says 'cat').

The first time someone tried to fist-bump him, he went into defensive mode because he thought he was going to get punched. When he was younger, you had to confirm multiple times that you could hug him because the only type of touch he knew were the ones followed by pain (working on a hc about this).

Alaska came over to his room once when he was sick to cuddle him and our dear Yorkie malfunctioned. Any type of comfort will make this wet kitten need to rewind himself. Alaska now makes it a point to give him bear hugs (I mean, given his size in comparison to Yorkie, this coulddd be quite literally too).

It's not that he hates being hugged exactly. In his heart, he wants a hug; but in his mind, he needs to fight.

Ever since they realised this, the Northeast States get together (for oNcE) alongside other states like Loui, Florda, and Cali to give him a group hug on his birthday. He'll say he hates it but he's lying.

California thinks New York will hate him if he keeps being clingy. New York meanwhile hopes that Cali won't stop hugging him. Nothing like someone whose love language is physical touch getting along with someone who's touch-starved. They're the perfect match during Cali's fire-season too; Yorkie helps soothe his burns and he keeps Yorkie warm. Honestly they cuddle so much during this time that an outsider would only see one big blanket and many limbs sprawled across the bed (:

Touch-starved!NY >>>>>>

(Feel free to give me your hc’s about him lol)