#Just because Journal

[thewanderingwriterwillow]

I was so fucking disappointed with AC Mirage that I hesitate to get excited for Red. Istg, Ubisoft, PLEASE put actual effort into this like you did Origins, Oddesy, and Valhalla. I know you can do it! I believe in you!

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[claredanko]

me when the only horror media ive engaged with is the simpsons halloween specials

[doctorsiren]

since you did Stan and Hermes, why not Ford and Athena?

Perhaps he wrote about this in Journal 1 😁

[panthermouthh]

“You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are. Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed origin… the minutest description of my odious and loathesome person is given, in language which painted your own horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read.”

[pygmypouter]

This place is a message... and part of a system of messages... pay attention to it!

[mirrorhouse]

I have what you're looking for. High quality. Befitting a man of my tastes. I have a room over on Divisadero, not too far a walk.

[thatshadowcomic]

Overthinking [QnA]

A question from Deviantart! I need to get those done first, been too long.

Shadow always felt like he'd be someone to get lost in his head, leading to him feeling isolated but also very self determined... It leads him to make confusing choices with poor communication.

Sonic is able to distract him in a productive way, and force him to broaden his thinking, even if it can be annoying. Remember, Shadow is from the ARK, he's much more sheltered than people give him credit for. He just assumes people won't understand--imagine his surprise when people start trying to support him. Likely a very confusing feeling.

I like to think he's more defensive because he's aware of that flaw. He can be too serious, but also apathetic in reaction to events, unsure what would be the right choice. He's trying to find a way to listen to his heart, his instincts, but not give into the parts of them that were damaged do to trauma.

It's a hard thing to navigate alone. Luckily he has a whole team behind him : )

[marbirds]

october part ll, plus some bonus pages

[archfeykoi]

maybe i'm afraid of you

[billtober days 3 & 4—trust no one & blind eye]

[peitalo]

i need some of you (most of you) to reread book of bill with the understanding that every word is a lie before regarding anything as true i thought that was a given evidently not

why would bill cipher’s autobiography not be biased and warped to his own tongue. hello

[fist-of-vengeance]

so what do we think fiddleford saw when he looked into the gremloblin's eyes? dude was so traumatised that stanford "oblivious to my assistant's emotional turmoil" pines took notice. it's what motivated him to INVENT THE MEMORY GUN IN THE FIRST PLACE. I'm honestly surprised i haven't seen more speculation about this

[roseserpentpress]

In singular deranged days work (where I was supposed to be getting OTHER things done) I made a cipher journal for decoding the ciphers in Gravity Falls, specifically for Journal 3, the Book of Bill and thisisnotawebsite.com. This included (ultimately) three pages of common ciphers used in the Gravity Falls fandom; originally I was only going to do two, but then got to the Blendin page in Journal 3, sighed deeply and made an extra page on the Vignére cipher. The clasps I made myself by hand, and the little white toggle is a raccoon tooth, which I may change out depending on what becomes available. The purple ink, although unable to be seen within the photos, actually glitters and looks rather cosmic to my delight.

Considering I made the most of it within a day, it meant I used the paper I had at hand, which wasn't good paper for actual ink as it bleeds through slightly (and is thus unbecoming), but as a fancy schm-ancy idiot who insists on using actual ink with dip pens for the 'breadth of the experience', this means I'm ultimately only using one side of the paper (to my chagrin) and the letters aren't as clear as they could be when I write on the paper. Nevertheless, I am rather happy about the result; young me from about a decade ago, who began to make a similar journal only to abandon the project would have been immensely excited that I actually made one and am currently using it to decipher things within Journal 3. There is something rather satisfying about it, I do confess.

[thebramblewood]

The first meeting of the Vatore Book Club has commenced.

Previous / Next

Helena: Caleb, are you in here? [telepathically] Caleb?

[silence]

[under breath] Where are you? You promised you’d show me more today.

[picking up journal] Hmm. These definitely weren’t here before.

[begins reading]

May 25, 1918: Another night daymare. Same as all the others. Calloused hands squeezing my throat, phantom fists pummeling my stomach, shrill bursts of laughter assailing my ears, sky of taunting stars, blinding white moon, a monstrous form looming over me… Straud insists I should no longer be able to dream. One more bold-faced lie from a man who speaks arrogant, empty words just to hear his own voice - and endlessly, endlessly. I already tire of his dull speeches.

July 10, 1918: The days stretch eternal in this crumbling mansion. I am Straud’s prisoner, though he claims I am free to come and go as I please. Yet he prattles on with excuses as though he does me a favor by denying me. I’ll not be allowed off the grounds until I bend to his will, until I  have suitably mastered discipline. How I loathe that word! I’ll be sick if I hear it once more.

September 8th, 1918: Killed two men last night. Only meant to step out for fresh air but instead found drunken idiot humans stumbling unknowingly across town lines. Their thoughts came to me easily. (So the old man taught me something after all.) Vile and crude remarks on my body, naturally. My vision flashed white with rage, and my body convulsed as if to split in two. Their taste of their blood was exquisite. It’s a funny thing, though. I kept expecting the swell of remorse to arise, but it never did, even when my brother, drawn by the cacophony, flinched away at the sight of my monstrousness, truly frightened of me for the first time. Further reflection is required, but for now I must depart. Straud requires placating.

Helena: [thinking] This is Lilith’s diary?

[flips to final pages]

February 22, 1921: Caleb’s birthday tomorrow. If it passes, he will be 27. He will continue to outpace me in physical age. He will eventually die. I’ve promised it will not. All week, he has been nervously pacing and eerily silent, too afraid to ask the obvious question: Will I truly make him like me? I know how to do it, but thirst remains a constant presence in the back of my throat. I suppose I will take it up with Straud one last time, though he will respond as usual. He believes the gift should be offered only to those who have been deemed worthy. But he grows uncomfortable when I ask how he determined my worthiness. I know he saw me merely as an opportunity, a flimsy young girl in distress who could be easily remolded in his image. I disappoint him every day. We must be free of him soon.

-

Vlad, telepathically: I can still hear every thought that passes through your mind, girl. Your barricades are sloppily constructed. And, no, my position has not changed.

[doctorsiren]

Today’s outfit! I went as Dipper for Halloween 2018, so I already had the vest ready to go! Sadly, I don’t know what happened to the sock puppet Dipper I made in 2018 for my costume.

[blackbackedjackal]

Talking shit about clichés like there isn't an abundance of unicorn art from the 80s that fucking slaps.