#and he was like some people don't want quotes ever and i was like yeah! I'm those people

[knifedog]

Had a dream I got my tattoo touched up and the artist was really good! But she added words to my tattoo? But it was a really long and convoluted quote?? I couldn't even read it. I kept asking her why she didn't do knuckle tattoos instead like

Fish Dick

Chop Worm

Wet Sleep

Salt Bite

she did give me a cool cowboy tattoo so I paid her $100 even though she asked for 58

[neverendingford]

.

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[skylarsblue]

✦Even. More. Incorrect C.o.D Quotes.✦

Y/N, pinning Soap’s arms with their thighs in sparring: Haha! Eat shit, Scotsman! Soap, struggling: FUCKIN’ ‘ELL, The hell is in your thighs?! Y/N: Pure spite and protein, bitch! --

Someone: Hey Johnny. Y/N: Oh, no, only Ghost can- Soap: Oi! Only Y/N & Ghost can pull that off, it’s Soap to you. Y/N: Yeah he- wait me too? *gaaassp* Ohhh is this what favoritism feels like?! Soap: Pfft, maybe! Y/N: I enjoy it a lot! <3

-- American!Y/N: Fuckin’ git, he’s off his rocker, that one. The entire team: … American!Y/N: *dramatically smacks their hand over their mouth* Gaz: *laughing* Was that genuine?! Y/N: AH, I’ve been conditioned! I’ve been colonized! Soap: COLONI-*WHEEZE*

-- Fem Fatal!Y/N: What th- what is this, a spy movie? You want me to infiltrate by being some eye candy?! Laswell: It’s the best option we have. Ghost: I disagree with this. Soap: Me too! This feels real nasty, I think. Fem Fatal!Y/N: *sigh* Fine, I’ll do it. God gave me these tits for a reason, might as well use’em for somethin’. Gaz: PFF-no no, don’t be funny, this is a bad situation.

-- Graves: No! You can’t, cause if you take it- …you’ll be hurting my feelings :((( Ghost: You know, I was thinking about that. And, the thing is…I really don’t care.

-- (In a ride back to base; just makin’ conversation)

Gaz: Do you find boys attractive? Or girls. That’s one what to check, if you’re not sure. Y/N: *chuckles* You think I’m not sure? Y/N: Everyone’s attractive to be honest, even if it’s just something small. Like, some people have really gorgeous hands. Y/N: I don’t know…I’m a little bit in love with everyone I meet. But I think that’s normal. Gaz: …hm, suppose that’s a fair answer…

-- Soap, laughing: You watch it or might just start fallin’ for ya, L.T! Ghost: …would you like to? Soap: Eh-…huh? Simon: Would you like to? Fall in love with me, I mean… Soap: ….well I-…well, yeah. I wouldn’t mind…if you’d let me. Simon: …I’d let you. Soap: Well then, guess that’s it then. Woo me, Si. Simon: I’ll do my best.

-- Someone: I don't need advice from a team of virgin losers. Y/N: VIRGIN LOSERS?! *grabs Price’s shoulder and motions to him aggressively* You gonna tell me you think this man doesn’t fuck for a living?! HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?! Gaz & Soap: *for the millionth time trying not to laugh* Price: *he’s not encouraging it but he does look kinda smug*

-- Gaz, on TikTok: Everyone’s always like “Kyle how’d you bag a baddie, how’d you bag that baddie bruh-“ I didn’t bag shit. Y/N picked me up from my neck, threw me over their shoulder and I’ve been on it ever since. (Zooms out to show that he is in fact, on their shoulder) Gaz: And I ain’t got no plans on getting off anytime soon-

(This also works with Soap & Ghost)

-- Y/N: Why’s it always you got mommy issues or you got daddy issues? Me personally? Both my parents got me messed up, the side I pick? Is mine. I ain’t Hannah Montana- Y/N: 🎶but I got the best of both worlds!~��� Ghost: *he’s laughing on the inside, I swear*

-- Ghost, on the verge of dissociating: Why be sad…when you can just be ✨g o n e✨ Soap: Si, no-

-- Graves: Punch me. In the face. Didn’t you hear me? Y/N: I always hear “punch me in the face” when you speak, but it’s usually subtext. Graves: *huff* Well I- *gets punched so hard he falls over* Y/N: ….that felt good. Ghost: I’m so proud- Price: Stop encouraging them.

-- Soap, bursting into the briefing room: Y/N got into a fight! (Insert running scene) Price: Soldier, what hap- Ghost, sliding up in front of them: Did you win? Y/N: Of course I won. Ghost: Nice. Price: STOP ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE-

-- Y/N, in a vent above a room: Soap, it’s me, the devil! Soap: *wheeze* Gaz: *trying so hard not to laugh* Y/N: I’m here to convince you to do SIN. Come with me. Steal candy from babies and from small businesses! Soap: *WHEEZE*

-- Y/N, passing by: *does that super flirty “up & down” look* Hey König…~ König: Hallo, guten morgen. Y/N: *smiles and keeps going* König, as soon as they’re gone: *deep breath* Ohmeingottohmeingott *tiny scream*

-- Ghost after being asked about his feelings on Soap: *heavy breathing* ……..nextquestion-

-- Gaz, a menace on TikTok: Batches be on the lookout for Captain Save-A-Hoe, cause he savin’ hoes. Price, minding his business: ? Y/N, dramatically “swooning” in the background: I WANNA BE SAAAAAVED *falls* Price, unaware he’s having a thirst trap made for him: ?????

-- (I think bullying Graves is funny)

Graves: Let me tell you how this is gonna work- Y/N: You ain’t gonna tell me shit. Graves: Listen!- Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: Listen to me!- Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: Shut up, listen to me! Y/N: Suck my dick, you fuck man. Graves: Listen!! Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: You will be here and listen to my ord- Y/N: You’ll be here sucking my dick. Graves: Listen to me, now! Y/N: Go fuck yourself.

-- Y/N: I would rather lead my team into a pit of fire, than have them wield guns for your ignorant usurper cunt of a general. Price: *mans is so proud it’s showing in his chops*

-- Simon: Your eyes are like sapphires…jeez…ahem, that’s pretty corny though, huh? Soap, swooning: No, not at all. Anyone would like it…aha… Simon: …uh…is this- Soap: Working? Oh yeah, thoroughly wooed, sir. Simon: Good, good.

-- Price: Please tell me you didn’t drag the boys into this. Y/N: I didn’t drag Soap & Gaz into this! *insert banging on door* Price: Who is that? Y/N: I think you know.

-- Soap: I wouldn’t wish that ‘pon my worst enemy. Unless, of course, we’re talkin’ ‘bout my enemy Philip Graves. Soap: Fuck you, Phillip(/neg), you know what you did.

-- Gaz: So you have feelings for this person. Just rip the bandaid off. Y/N, with daddy issues: It’s Price. Gaz: *inhales through his teeth* Put the bandaid back on.

-- Y/N: …Ghost? You’re into Ghost? Soap: Mhm…thoughts? Y/N: And prayers, Johnny. And prayers.

-- Gaz: Are you straight? Y/N: *chokes on drink* Don’t ever fucking insult me like that ever again.

-- (Some type of escort mission or somethin’)

Price: This woman wouldn’t know how to fix a broken fingernail. Fem!Y/N: Honestly, you lot have to be the most boorish, crude, pig-headed men I’ve ever met. Price: Hey, I’ve seen the high-bred boys you’ve hung out with, princess. I’m the only man you’ve ever met.

(Insert overly intense sexual tension here)

-- König: How does that even make any- *knife sound* König: *looks down at the knife in his thigh* Did you just- *takes knife out* Did you just stab me? What is your problem?!

-- (I’m only using Alejandro cause the dude in the audio had a slight Spanish accent, mans is definitely a feminist)

Alejandro: It’s not natural for girls to fight. Fem!Y/N: Now it’s not natural for a man to be as stupid as he is tall, but mm. Here you stand! Alejandro, in love: …

[cityofmeliora]

notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

a few weeks ago i saw this post from slavghoul which has snippets of TF describing the Papas. it includes this quote:

“He represents this frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself. But despite his wounds and his darkness, he has a sense of humour and is endearing, like most of my heroes. The late actor Christopher Lee was an inspiration to me. In many ways, he is Papa.” (Metallian 7/2015)

i thought this quote was really interesting because i'd never seen anyone talking about that side of Terzo before. Terzo hating "everyone, especially himself" felt at odds with the charming personality he typically displayed. i wanted to know how that developed and where his "wounds and darkness" came from. so i did some digging for quotes on Terzo's history and characterization. here are my notes + thoughts:

something that came up again and again in my research is that he is actually quite antisocial when he's not performing. it seems like he didn't want people to know anything about him past his stage persona.

TOUR MANAGER: No one in the crew really gets to see or speak to Papa, ever. Only Anna and myself have access. He is not in the building and then he'll just be there, just for show time. The only thing you really need to know about Papa is what you see of him on stage. Ghost - The Devil's Hands (Documentary) (2017)

he almost never interacted with any of the nameless ghouls or the tour crew. in fact, he really went out of his way to avoid them. he traveled separately, would appear right before the start of a show, and then he would disappear as soon as it ended. in "The Devil's Hands", it showed they sometimes had trouble locating him when he was needed.

With this new era, can you introduce Papa Emeritus III? NAMELESS GHOUL: I don't know him very well yet. We haven't really done our mileage with him, so I am sure that we will find out. But he seems nice. He seems okay. Obviously, he's very close relatives with Papa number two, who was a little bit of a hmm. I'm sure that he isn't like, completely different, but we'll find out. He's a bit of a recluse, and he sort of travels on his own. And he sort of appears when we're due onstage and then he disappears when we're offstage. So yeah, I guess we have a little bit of a social disconnect there, but I don't see a big problem with that. I mean he seems to be doing well on his own, and I don't know if he has a little harem somewhere that occupies his time offstage, I guess. I'm assuming that. Loud TV (July 2015)

INTERVIEWER: How has it been working with the third Papa? How is he fitting into the group? NAMELESS GHOUL: We like him, actually. He seems to be quite nice. Obviously, we haven't really done our "miles" with him yet, so we don't know him that well. And he doesn't travel with us- he sort of goes separately everywhere, and he appears just before the show and then he just disappears. So we haven't really had the time to sort of fully get to know him. But overall, he seems quite a joyful chap. Metal Injection (September 2015)

predictably, his bandmates did not know him very well. but they always remarked that they liked him and that he seemed like a nice, chill guy. (they also assumed he had a harem that he spent time with when he wasn't performing, which is probably not true, considering how much effort he put into avoiding people whenever possible.)

NAMELESS GHOUL: We don't really socialize with Papa, so… But he seems nice! But he's very occupied in his harem. [...] He's a little bit cooler. He seems to be the nicer of the two brothers --I don't know if there are two-- but he seems to have, I don't know, a kinder mother, probably, or something that makes him slightly.. INTERVIEWER: A little different. NAMELESS GHOUL: Yeah, he's a little bit different. AMBY (October 2015)

i don't think his charming, pleasant demeanor was just an act, though. i think it did come from a genuine part of himself... he wasn't always an antisocial recluse.

before he became Papa, he was a cardinal in Krakow, Poland. Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis (the character representing Zbigniew Bielak, the artist who does the album art for Ghost) characterized younger Terzo as having enthusiasm in all his endeavors. he was always a very devoted member of the clergy who had big dreams of progress and modernization for the Ministry and the world. he had a strong interest in Futurist art and philosophy.

Bp. Necropolitus Cracoviensis remembers: "...our relationship goes a long way back to the times before his papacy, that is when he was still a cardinal in my hometown, in Cracovia...(...) Although we had our share of juvenile recklessness - be it indulging his beloved cream pies - allegedly verging on six hundred sixty six portions a year but that must be a rumor I believe, or wild parties at the attic of seminary school (laughs) - even in his formative years, he remained a focused man of vision, looking far into the future, always addressing his people's needs and longings to keep our church together in those turbulent, rapidly changing times (...) there were so many temptations to syndicate among our good people (...) (...) We would sit down to studying exciting Futurist manifestos, sketched the blueprints of utopian metropoles, spiked with shiny skyscrapers stabbing at the heavens belly... Wantonly swollen zeppelins would to carry our gospel of indulgence to the farthest corners of the globe to summon and enslave. (...) Forged in nostalgia of steam and fire, this brave new world of ambition, vice, lust and greed - all so inherent to the enlightened modernity, was always with him through all these years. And it is now - when our church continues to grow stronger and wealthier under wise reign of Papa Emeritus III - that these visions may finally be witnessed and embraced in the preachings of 'Meliora' - his most contemporary and humane Encyclical." (https://www.facebook.com/thebandghost/posts/994031900615606)

those core values of ambition, vice, lust, and greed stayed with him when he became Papa. though he had a revolutionary spirit, he's actually described as "less rebellious" in Metal Myths. Terzo took his job as Papa very seriously, and he cared about being successful and achieving his goals. while he and Secondo certainly had vice, lust, and greed in common, it was Terzo's ambition that truly set him apart.

"It felt like the goal was to take Papa II's sense of modernity and remove the recklessness." Metal Myths: Ghost Pt. 2 (April 2022)

How would you describe the personality of Papa Emeritus III compared to his predecessors? NAMELESS GHOUL: "First of all, Papa Emeritus III is an entertainer! He loves projectors, he loves the public, and he loves success. The first Papa Emeritus was someone very rigid, very strict, and very solemn. A real son of a bitch! (laughs) To be honest, we don’t miss him at all! Papa Emeritus II was a pervert a little bit sadistic, and, in hindsight, I think he wasn’t very at ease on stage. He wasn’t a showman, unlike Papa Emeritus III! Him, he’s the guide we missed to rise up the quality of our shows, to reach the step above and communicate with our fans." (MyRock #44 (2017) translated from French by @ a-wandering-ghoulette)

unfortunately, his ambition eventually led him to become disillusioned and depressed.

Terzo looked forward to becoming Papa. he worked so hard for it his whole life, only to be confronted with the realization that his time as Papa --and therefore his achievements-- would be limited.

he was a nice guy, but he was also was egotistical. he was a showman and an intellectual, and he thought very highly of himself.

NAMELESS GHOUL: He's a little bit more chill. But obviously, all the Papas are definitely pompous assholes. INTERVIEWER: That's part of the job. SPECIAL GHOUL: That's one of the criterias, the prerequisites, that you have to be this sort of flamboyant diva, know-all, show-off. Metal Injection (September 2015)

his self-hatred came from his inability to be the person he wanted to be. it's not that he felt like he couldn't measure up, it's that he felt like he wasn't allowed to express his full potential. Terzo's mindset was "i know i'm good enough. and i could prove it if they would just let me." but he wasn't really in charge, and his vision was at odds with the goals of Sister Imperator.

Terzo felt so stifled, it makes sense that he became a "frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself."

and i think this is the reason for the paradox of him having a kind, charming personality onstage and being unsociable offstage. he still gave it his all. he did the best he could with the time and resources he was allowed. that zealous man of the people was still in there somewhere. but he felt betrayed by the clergy, the organization he dedicated his life to. his career ended up being unfulfilling and he was ultimately really bitter about the way things turned out.

he was good. he never got to be great.

[max1461]

Other people want the world as a whole to "mean something" or "be about something" and I just don't. That's so terribly constricting, so suffocating. I'm much more inclined to positive nihilism.

I'm reading about LotR lore lately, and I really like LotR, but all the Christianity in it distresses me. Why must the world be governed by Eru Ilúvatar's infallible and undefeatable master plan? Doesn't that take out all the stakes? More importantly: part of what I like about LotR is its valorization of the small and the ordinary, as represented in the hobbits but also in, you know, Tolkien's proclivity to spend more time talking about potatoes than he needs to, and whatnot. There's a valorization of the small over the grandiose. It's like, finding dignity in the ordinary or something, that feels like a big part of Tolkien's project, and I'm deeply sympathetic to that. But then he has to go and add, you know, an omnipotent and omnibenevolent creator and omnimalevolent enemy (Melkor, not Sauron) and like...

First of all I hate the combination of omnipotence and omnibenevolence, it just doesn't work in any kind of narrative, it doesn't work in Christianity either, it's just *so* having your cake and eating it too. Like, Christianity itself has something of a "valorization of the small" going on but it also fails there, because (people have already said all these things) Jesus isn't actually just some guy, he's actually god the all-powerful and infallible lord of the universe! And he doesn't even really suffer or debase himself except temporarily, he ascends to heaven in the end, whereas sinners are sent to hell to suffer permanently for their imperfections. And "the meek will inherit the earth" by submitting to God and doing everything he says!

Not really valorizing the small there IMO.

Anyway Christianity doesn't succeed at this but the thing about Tolkien is he gets so close. When he says stuff (this is from one of his letters apparently, I quoted it the other day) like

It had been Sauron’s virtue (and therefore also the cause of his fall, and of his relapse) that he loved order and coordination, and disliked all confusion and wasteful friction… it was the creatures of the earth, in their minds and wills, that he desired to dominate.

I'm like, yeah! I'm with you bro! But then there's the whole thing about, well, Eru Ilúvatar's creation was perfect until Melkor's discordant singing marred it, and now it's imperfect and that's the source of all evil, but it's also fine because Eru's vision is bound to win out in the end, it's like... you're undercutting your whole thing! Eru is doing what Sauron wants to do, it's just that he's winning at it. Maybe the point is that Eru permits free will, or something, while Sauron doesn't. But this still seems weak in light of the whole "Melkor as the origin of imperfection" thing. You can't valorize the small and the ordinary without being comfortable with imperfection. You can't make a story where imperfection is Inherently Evil, as it seems to quite literally be in Tolkien's cosmology, and have it land for me as a critique of lust for power. Like. What do people even want to do with power except Eliminate All The Imperfections? Obviously some just want to enrich themselves, but I think Tolkien's opposition to power-seeking plainly runs a lot deeper than just opposition to self-interested power-seeking, which is

what I like about it, and

why this incongruity is so frustrating.

Anyway, there's that Scott Alexander post, Heuristics that Almost Always Work. I agree with the thesis of the post as such, but there's this line in it that perfectly articulates the reason rationalism tends to alienate me:

The Futurist He comments on the latest breathless press releases from tech companies. This will change everything! say the press releases. “No it won’t”, he comments. This is the greatest invention ever to exist! say the press releases. “It’s a scam,” he says. Whatever upheaval is predicted, he denies it. Soon we’ll all have flying cars! “Our cars will remain earthbound as always”. Soon we’ll all use cryptocurrency! “We’ll continue using dollars and Visa cards, just like before.” We’re collapsing into dictatorship! “No, we’ll be the same boring oligarchic pseudo-democracy we are now” A new utopian age of citizen governance will flourish. “You’re drunk, go back to bed.” When all the Brier scores are calculated and all the Bayes points added up, he is the best futurist of all. Everyone else occasionally gets bamboozled by some scam or hype train, but he never does. His heuristic is truly superb. But - say it with me - he could be profitably replaced with a rock. “NOTHING EVER CHANGES OR IS INTERESTING”, says the rock, in letters chiseled into its surface. Why hire a squishy drooling human being, when this beautiful glittering rock is right there?

Bolding in the final paragraph mine.

"Nothing ever happens or is interesting". Really? Is that what the skeptical futurist is saying? Certainly he's saying "nothing ever happens", that I'll grant. But he's not saying "nothing is ever interesting". You added that, Scott, because to be interested you need something Big to happen. You are not filled with love for the small and ordinary, it is just wasted time and wasted space to you.

I do not particularly like the Big, at least not most of the time. I like the small quite a lot. And, contrary to their names, I think most of the world is small. The world is made of lots of small things, not a couple big things. And I often feel that the small is the only thing that's actually real, the big tends to be illusory. As a small creature it is other small things that affect me most and matter most to me, it is my small dealings with other small creatures that are subjectively the biggest. And the various grand narratives of history, if they exist, only affect me in a diffuse and nonspecific way and are in all their specifics born out in small things.

I am very much a partisan of ordinary things, ordinary dealings, of our daily lives and our individual relationships and perhaps ephemeral but deeply felt emotions as the actual source of value in the world, from which Big things insofar as they matter at all derive their importance. And, aesthetically I suppose, I am also a defender of the inherent dignity of small things and cast-aside things (a different but closely related category). And there are close connections between the small and the vast (which is not the same as Big), and. Well, take my uquiz. But anyway.

[impactrueno]

i keep getting amazed by how starkly different betelgeuse and lydia’s dynamic is in the movie versus the cartoon. what do you mean one was based on the other? how did we get “that WAS you stalking me!” from the same source material as “you’re one of a kind, beetlejuice. don’t ever change.”

yeah it happens

it seems like they decided on making a beetlejuice animated series first, and then they tried to figure out how to make it kid friendly. there's this interview that says stephen ouimette's first beetlejuice voices were very close to keaton's in the movie, but that they felt there was something very off about having an "evil creepy guy with a goth girl in the attic" and that was when they decided to soften the character. ouimette did a lighter and funnier voice and that alone was enough for them to feel like he wasn't a threat and the goth girl was safe around him. and i guess things just took off from there as they figured out the characters. it IS a children's cartoon, and being ran by abc at the time they had to keep things cute and wholesome. tim burton was very involved in the creation process (as much as he could while working on batman) so having bj and lydia be friends instead of enemies was pretty much his choice. but again, kids cartoon ran by abc. and that's why we have sugary sweet quotes like the one you said.

seems like even back then tim has always preferred a more amicable dynamic for those two. we already know him, michael, winona, everyone in the cast wants them to be together to some degree thanks to recent interviews. and i think that is why beetlejuice's character was slightly changed in the sequel, from an evil creepy guy to just....a creepy guy with a crush i guess. point is, they don't want him to be The Bad Guy anymore and that's why the sequel is the way it is.

BUT they can't just make him "not evil" and expect it to work, that would make no sense, he still needs to have this creepy and wrong edge to him, and lydia's not gonna just forgive and forget what happened in the first movie. so, combining allllll these elements, we get this brand new dynamic between them: creepy guy in love with the woman he's been stalking for 30 years (pure insanity but not exactly evil) and woman who's like "ugh not this fucking guy again" but still goes to him for help, begrudgingly. she can't quite get rid of him. they're obviously not enemies anymore and they're not friends either. but now it's a bit more believable for them to reach some sort of amicability, eventually.....perhaps in the third one.....we shall see

AND THAT.......is how we got from this concept

to this concept

and finally this concept.

three entirely different dynamics. three three three. rule of thirds, you know i love it. it's a crazy journey but i think it makes more sense when broken down like this.

musical stuff isn't really part of this journey BUT the musical did help soften people's perception of beetlejuice even MORE, so now pretty much everyone can buy into the idea that he can be more than just an "evil creepy guy," to the point where soooo many people were actually dying to see the two team up and be friends in the sequel.

and now the original movie feels like the outlier. oh the IRON-E ok sorry im not using that pun again

[ladybeug]

do you have any fanfic recs?

YEAH i do!

And also can people put fanfic recs in the comments of this ask?? So we get even more recs. THANKS!

here's some of mine:

Metamorphosis by @peachcitt - Its been a couple years since they defeated hawkmoth, chat noir is gone. I read this earlier this year and it was SO good, just deliciously dramatic, and it destroyed me. but like in a fun way :)

Tell me something I don't know by @marimbles - it's marichat. do you want to have fun? don't lie to me, I know you do. this one is so funny and sweet

Final Girl by @picayunearts - AU where marinette turns down the ladybug role. this one got to me deeply. listen im unlikely to ever tattoo a quote on my body but if i DID im not saying it WOULDNT be from this fic.

As time goes by, by @redundant-lava - its like if casablanca was even MORE dramatic and romantic and also starred your blorbos.

Under Oath by @eoscenes - Gabriel is unmasked and everyone is dealing with the aftermath. This one takes some of the season 4 drama between ladybug and chat noir and gives it a real play-out, I read this one when it was half-finished and just loved it, I haven't caught up but it looks like its finished so i WILL be going back. join me :)

Happy Anniversary Surprises by @ming85 - short and so so so sweet!!

Double Entendre by speaks, I don't know their tumblr - no intro, just go check it out. man I just love this one, so fun and such a good reveal.

Sting by KryallaOrchid, I don't know their tumblr - Adrien loses the cat miraculous and gets ahold of the bee miraculous so he can keep helping - but ladybug is NOT having it with the new partner. an oldie and a romp!! lovesquare identity shenanigans galore. have some fun.

anything @buggachat has written is good, and i've loved so many of @coffeebananas works, so go browse both of those authors.

A bunch of others but i cant list them all so im leaving off here!! Tell your favs in the comments. whats good out there?

[multi-fandom-imagine]

•EVEN MORE THE BLUE EYE SAMURAI INCORRECT QUOTES•

Reader: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch.

Taigen: Some times I whine like a big Bitch!

Ringo: Do you think when Butterflies are in love that they feel human's in their stomach?

Reader: Ringo! What the fuck!

Reader: • • •_-• - / ... - •_• •_• -.-

Mizu: What is that

Reader: Remorse Code.

Mizu: I am even angery now.

Reader: Hey Mizu, what are you eating?

Mizu: A family sized bag of sweets.

Reader...that's not family sized....that's regular sized....

Mizu:Everything is family sized when you dont have a family.

Reader: *whispering* Mizu...nOo

Reader: *Laying in bed* Do you think birds get sad for not having arms?

Mizu: Well do you get sad for not having wings?

Reader: *Choke up* Every single day.

Taigen: If I say I love you will you say it back?

Reader: Yes

Taigen: I love you

Reader: It back

*Five Minutes later*

Mizu: Why is Taigen sobbing face down on the floor?

Reader: I wish I could block people in real life.

Akemi: Restraining order

Mizu: Murder

Reader: What are you five?

Taigen: Yea! Five head's taller than you.

Reader:

Taigen:

Reader:

Taigen:....Please don't kill me.

Mizu: Are you high?

Reader: Am I what?

Mizu: High?

Reader: Hello.

Taigen: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Reader: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

Mizu: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Reader: It was me...

Mizu: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Reader: Why are you on the floor?

Mizu: I’m depressed.

Mizu: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ringo, please

Taigen: I guess I’m just a bad person.

Reader: Nah, you’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favourite person. But sometimes you can be a real cunt

Reader: Hey Mizu?

Mizu, internally: There they are. My favorite person in the world, the love of my life. Fuck I just want to stare at them and hold them and kiss them for the rest of my life—

Mizu: What the FUCK do you want?

Akemi staring at Reader: “You look like an angel.”

Reader who wasn’t paying attention: “What?”

Akemi: “I said you look ugly at every angle.”

Mizu *screeching*: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!

Reader: wh-

Mizu: YOU’RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!

Reader:why are you screaming??

Mizu: BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO YELL SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGRESSIVE TONE!

Reader: I-

Mizu: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

Ringo: Wow, it’s a barren featureless wasteland out there isn’t it?

Reader: … Ringo, try turning the map around.

Reader: You’re mad at me.

Mizu: I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.

Reader: Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse

Mizu: Don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

Reader: The power to believe in myself?

Mizu: No, a Sword.

Mizu: Stab them.

Reader: Don’t kill me, I have a wife

Assassin: I don’t care about that

Reader: That wasn’t a plea for mercy, that was a warning

Mizu kicking the door down: You called, love?

Reader: Here you are, Mizu. Nice hot cup of tea.

Mizu: …It’s cold.

Reader: Nice cup of tea.

Mizu: It’s horrible.

Reader: Cup of tea.

Mizu: I’m not even sure it is tea.

Reader: Cup.

Reader: You need to react when people cry.

Mizu: I did, I rolled my eyes.

Reader: Gotta love knitting needles, I can make a scarf, I can make a hat, I can stab someones eyes out, I can make mittens.

Akemi: What was that middle part?

Reader: I can make a hat?

Mizu: How much sleep did you get?

Reader: Eight.

Mizu: Hours?

Reader: Minutes. God! Taigen, would you shut the fuck up?

Taigen*Fixing his hair*: What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything!

Taigen: how come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?

Reader what do you mean?

Taigen: you just seem nicer than usual

Mizu: They can punch you in the face if you want.

Fowler: I could kill you if I wanted.

Reader: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Akemi: Did you really have to stab him?

Reader: You weren't there, you didn't hear what he said to me.

Akemi: And what did he say?

Reader: "What are you gonna do? Stab me?"

Mizu, nodding: That's fair.

Akemi: NO!

Reader: *Screams*

Taigen: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Ringo: Should we do something?

Mizu: No, I want to see who wins.

Ringo:Let's speak about our talents.

Ringo:...I'll start, I like to cook.

Akemi: I'm good at languages.

Reader: I'm good instruments.

Mizu: I'm good at killing people.

Reader: *Does something stupid*

Mizu: What an absolute fucking idiot.

Mizu: I can't believe I would die for them.

[societalenemynumberone]

Deadpool quotes but with my Lucifer's older sibling!reader idea-

Reader: [First day in Hell, in the middle of a fistfight] Have you seen this woman?

[holds up a bad crayon drawing of Charlie]

Sera: You've been warned, Reader. This is a shameful and reckless use of your powers. You will be coming with us

Reader: Look, Sera, I don't have time for the goody two-shoes bullshit right now

Alastor: Do you have off an switch?

Reader: Yeah, it's right next to the prostate. Or is that the on switch?

Reader; [after finding out about Charlie's existence] You're clowning. You're not clowning? I sense clowns

Charlie: Feeling a bit lonely?

Reader: Only sometimes when I'm by myself. Or other times when I'm with other people.

Reader: [First ever conversation with an awe-eyed Charlie] You're probably thinking, "My dad said that his older sibling is the second most just being in all of creation, but his sibling just turned that guy into a fucking kabab!" Well, I may be just, but I'm no hero. And yeah, technically, that was a murder. But some of the best love stories start with a murder. And that's exactly what this is, a family love story.

Reader: [to Sera] Listen, the day I decide to become a crime-fighting shit swizzler, who rooms with a bunch of other little whiners in the Lord's Kingdom with some creepy, [points to Adam] Heaven's Gate-looking motherfucker... on that day, [points to Emily] I'll send her shiny, happy ass a friend request

Reader [Helping in the second extermination]: Daddy needs to express some rage.

[starts firing their guns]

Reader: Listen, Angel, if I never see you again, I want you to know that I love you very much. I also buried 1,600 kilos of cocaine somewhere in the hotel - right next to the answer for getting out of a soul contract. Good luck.

Angel Dust: [Grinning] You fucking asshole

Alastor: Morningstar!

Reader: How can I help you? Besides luring women into dark, creepy basements.

Reader: [Just learned how to use a phone, looking at a text from Angel] What is that?

Husk: That's the shit emoji. You know the turd with the smiling face and the eyes. I thought it was chocolate yogurt for so long

Sera: I've given Reader every chance to join us but they'd rather act like a child. A heavily armed child. When will they grow up and see benefits of joining the Angelic Council?

Emily: Which benefits? Commiting genocide for amusement? Or the Angel that falls every few decades?

Sera: Please, falling out of Heaven builds character

Reader: Superhero landing. She's gonna do a superhero landing. Wait for it...

[Lute jumps from the platform and lands]

Reader: [clapping their hands] Whoo! Superhero landing! You know, that's really hard on your knees

Charlie: [Stopping Reader from killing Valentino] I can't allow this, Reader. Please, come quietly.

Reader: You blonde cock-gobbler!

Charlie: That's not nice.

Reader: You're really gonna fuck this up for me? Trust me, that squeaking bag of dick-tips has it coming. He's pure evil. Besides... Nobody's getting hurt.

[a dead body falls off an overhead building]

Reader: That guy was already up there when I got here.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Loyalties

Did you know? That one of the unexpected benefits to being reborn, with your memories intact, is that you carry your first life's cultural taboos with you? All your knowledge, all your superstitions, every horror movie you've ever so much as glanced at. Like a dowry, brought with you, into this, your new life.

You end up not giving as much weight, to local superstitions. Especially the ones you know are not true. How? Well, sometimes? In the mad, random, overwhelming blur of the Cosmos? You end up in a Reality that to YOU? Was once fiction. Living in a snapshot of that world's history, as it plays out. Just as it was prophesied.

It's kinda disorienting. But? You get used to it.

Though you DO have to make a choice. Quickly. And decide where in that prophecy you want to stand. After all... there are many ways it could go. It WAS a "game". A story of romance. That other's lives would be impacted? That nations might rise or fall? That people could and will DIE? Oh, that is irrelevant! Isn't it?

They are young.

In LOVE.

Obviously, I could not risk my life on such irresponsible grounds. Plant my flag and swear loyalty, to such fickle hearts. I would die. They would get me killed, for their love story. No... No, what I needed? Was something stable. Selfish. Someone who would claim, but would KEEP.

I needed someone who rewarded loyalty. Someone who praised cleverness. Protected his own. Had (and would again) kill any who set untoward eyes upon those who served him. Someone guaranteed to survive until the end. Machiavellian, scheming. A soft and twisting word. Whispered kindly, in so many, many ears.

The power behind whichever throne he chooses.

Most Senior Royal Advisor, Iwamoto Nobutoshi. My boss. Or, really, Master I guess. Boss was for gangsters. Which was still weird for me. Part of me still twitched violently, every time I said the word "master". My brain insisting, it was either a sex thing or a slavery thing, and that I should respond with Immediate Violence at being told to call anyone that.

Yeah... there ARE downsides to keeping your memories. It really is a mixed bag, all told.

But, hey! All those horror movies I've seen in passing? Scary Horror-Terror Stuff I've absorbed through cultural osmosis? Has been really coming in handy, not gonna lie. So has my understanding of what constitutes "psychological warfare" and "mindfuck-y, liminal, torment".

It should NOT be as cathartic as it is? But... not gonna lie. I've gotten weirdly GOOD at this. Learned to become one with the shadows. Sneak into and out of places, I rightfully should not BE. Usually with a bucket of animal blood from a butcher's. Occasionally, if I KNOW they have someone who can test it? I get the bucket from the morgue.

Which? Is gross as FUCK. And disrespectful. But I have to believe they'd be totally down for fucking with some Evil Rich Assholes. Plus I donate funds to their family's anonymously. So I like to think it balances out? Still don't like to do it, though. I feel like the longer I've been here, the more my morals have chipped away...

Where was I? Right! Tonight's "art"!

I forget where that quote was from, exactly? But? It was true. People do not look up nearly enough. Worse yet, most manors around here? Had attics and weird pockets in their ceilings, with easy access to the floors below. I had? Gotten past? SO many patrols this way. So, SO many.

Frankly, an ALARMING number of patrols.

I'd taken to putting traps in the ceiling, back home.

What I was aiming for, here, was the private rooms. Not the hallway outside the private rooms, oh no, those would be patrolled to hell and back. But inside. Plus? It would have that added, spicy, "we can get you where you sleep" fear factor. And? Having their oh so TRUSTED, highly trained gaurds? See NOTHING? Perfect~

Cause? We? Were doing a good ol fashioned "Sins of The Past" Haunting!

The trick, if you don't actually have any good oppo-research available? Is to be vague, yet aim for things you do know about them. Let them fill in the blanks. Such as? The VERY convenient deaths of Lord Jackass's other brothers, which cleared HIS way towards power. There's no PROOF of any wrong doing... but~? Guilty hearts DO tend to tell on themselves~!

Slinking down the rope ladder silently, into the frankly hideously overdecorated room. I got to work. On silent feet, I began to set the stage. Furniture, lifted and silently stacked, around the snoring Lord and his equally unconscious wife. Expensive pottery, covered in a thick and padded bag, before it is struck.

As though some silent blast of power had gone off. Each piece, placed right back where it had been, now broken, on the floor. Next? The most time consuming, but subtle, one. Also the one that would spread farthest as gossip. Using a custom made seam ripper, tear out the eyes of every example of his family's crest on his clothes. On his bedding.

Yes, ALSO on the robe he wore to bed. That one takes very gentle movement. Very nerve-wracking, not gonna lie. You gotta go slow. Once you DO? Good ol "tears of blood." Just paint it right on the cloth, let it stain. As though the crests were weeping.

THEN, you paint the room in nicely vague horror movie script.

"Brother. Why?" "We know. We know EVERYTHING. How could you?" "We are tired of waiting, join us. Join us Brother." "We are witness, a shame upon our blood."

And other such gems! Plus the good ol hands scrambling, covered in blood, to a point in the center of the room. Put a round painters cloth down, and~? Gently sift ash and bone dust (I dried up bones from the kitchens, then ground um! Also great for gardening.) over the floor. Step UP, to my ladder, kit away, grab the cloth, and? Off we go!

Room successfully haunted.

Couldn't happen to a nicer asshole, really. Is it a BIT much? Yeah, probably. People lose their SHIT. I apparently have "a talent", according to my teammates. Which is nonsense. It's all B-grade horror move nonsense and house of horrors gross outs. Visceral ick. But it's NEW here, so I guess that counts? Even if I am plagiarizing the FUCK out of somebody.

Thankfully, though, dispite my "talent"? Master Iwa- ...No, wait, didn't he tell me recently to call him by his name? Uncomfy. A good sign, obviously, but... uncomfy. Don't Like that he knows who I am. I was aiming for, you know, mid rank? Not disposable but pretty forgetable? But now I have a Useful Skill. Have proven to be INTELLIGENT.

Fuck, I even made the mistake of cleaning up and organizing PAPERWORK. You know, paperwork? A thing you would have to READ and MAKE SENSE OFF, to be able to organize? Have to create some kind of workable and efficient system, by WHICH to sort? I thought it was an assistants! Not HIS!

One fuck up is all it takes.

He will find you, he WILL rip the secrets out of you, and yes! He WILL smile pleasantly the entire fucking time! It's horrifying! Kinda cool! I'm pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes! Ha ha... Holy SHIT.

Right, where...? Right! My "talent"! Master Nobutoshi? Big on "right piece for the right purpose". Yeah, you could FORCE people to go against their ideals, their beliefs, their very nature... but you can only do so, for so long. Fear fades. Pain can be overcome. Not everyone fears death.

He regards it as foolish, inefficient, to drag and force and scream.

No, no! He? Oh, he merely... suggests. A softly spoken recommendation. A guiding hand, to show you, the best use of your skills. And if that guidance just so happens to serve his interests? Well... what a wonderful coincidence~ How fortuitous.

Heavy hands get broken. Snapped at and slapped away. But a gentle touch? A little nudge? Sweet whispers in your ear? That tell you what you want to hear? Guide you where HE wants you to be? Well, THAT is so much harder to notice, isn't it. So, SO much harder to fight.

I chose pretty well, I like to think. Because no matter the game? He'll come out on top. Probably laugh, as all the other players, dance to his tune. Who WOULDN'T want to be on his team? His team wins.

And winning? Means I survive.

Dropping off my kit in the shed at the back of the Iwamoto guest residence gardens (where, should it be found, the presence of such things could be blamed on unscrupulous guests), I trudge back towards the servants quarters. I'm tired and filthy. It's the kind of late? Where it's flipped right around to become early.

Luckily, me and my teammates plan ahead, so there is a still moderately warm bath waiting for me. God bless Aiko and all she stands for. For this? I'll even carry her back to our room. Since, once again, she's decided "fuck it" and just curled up on the stack of towels. Doesn't even fit. She just shoved her upper body in the cubby and called it good.

I snort and step over her. Get my fuckin bath. Late night shifts are the worst. But we all take um. I focus on getting clean, grabbing my passed out lump of a roommate, and heading to bed. Fucker drools on me. Snorkels right in my ear. Takashi laughs silently as we pass him, hold the door for me. Seems to be heading out as we head in.

Master Iwamoto's shadow network never truely sleeps, after all.

Always someone doing something.

Dumping us both in our beds, I greatfully pass out. Do not dream. Greet near mid-day as my dawn, ready to start it all over again. Up, a quick bath, dressed and ready to go. Nothing to seem here but us identical servants. We go in shifts. All the better to be as disorienting as possible, to outsiders.

Everyone who looks like each other? Grouped on a shift. Taught to use make up to make themselves even MORE indistinguishable. We pick someone about in the middle, appearance wise, of each group, as the Standard. Everyone is to copy them. For my group, it's me.

I pick up the whispers and news, that have been collected since this mornings report. Second one of the day. At least, second one when we're not on "war" footing. As I walk, I glance down. Technically not supposed to read these, but I'm fairly sure he knows I do at least read the top page. Is amused by it. I'd have seen punishment otherwise. Or removed from delivery.

Oooh~ lookie THERE! How SCARY~☆! It appears someone was HAUNTED last night! By the ghosts of their dead brothers, you say? Angry ancestors, you say? Wife hysterical? Fled to her parents house? Sister, in tears, before the king? Oh my, oh my~!

I struggle not to grin. That would give the game away. Me? Reading something I'm not supposed too? I would NEVER. He he he~

Casually weaving through other servants, I keep reading. Climbing stairs and ducking down halls. Huh. Wait a second... slowing, I step to the side of the covered walkway. Re-read that last paragraph. Near the end of the page? Is something... strange. Not right.

I REMEMBER the Plot.

Made SURE I would remember. Wrote it down, then again and again. Memorized it, like my life literally depended on it, while it was still somewhat fresh in my mind. Because, frankly, it DID depend on it. Even now? Decades later? I can recite it by rote.

So why? Pray tell? Did our blushing Protagonist? Have a BROTHER.

Furthermore, why the FUCK have I not NOTICED this before?

Glancing around, I see far too many watchful eyes, to properly investigate. So I straighten. Pleasant, vague, expression in place. I walk forward. In no hurry at all. Definitely going to deliver these papers. Certainly not delaying in the slightest. Nothing to see here, everyone! Go about, what you were. We are all friends here, RIGHT?

I step into the building at the far end of the covered pathway. Resist diving into the first room available. That? Would be too predictable. I go for the THIRD. One quick grab, slide, and side-step? And~? Poof! Like I was never there. Servant? WHAT servant? These halls are EMPTY. You're clearly seeing things... are you okay?

Immediately, I lift the reports. Well, immediate after a look around the room, of course. Don't want to get CAUGHT. Flipping to the second page, I start reading. What's this about a Brother? What BROTHER?! There IS no BROTHER!

....except there IS.

Somehow.

And HE? Is a very, VERY clever man. One who lived quietly. Like a ghost. After the failed assassination attempt that nearly killed him and his mother. Wait a- ...failed? That sounds...? Familiar.

I have to close my eyes and think, to remember. Lean my head back and let my brain churn. It's... obscure. A tiny detail, mentioned offhand. Single line of dialog, in only one of the routes. Not even the MAIN routes. But one of the Secret ones, that you have to unlock... in the... collectors? Edition? I think? There was that play through video, right? We were eating... a noodle dish of some kind...

Fuck, I can't remember it. Not fully.

But I remember ENOUGH.

I REMEMBER? That it WASN'T a FAILED attempt. That Protagonist-chan's family didn't talk about them. For vaguely plot relevant reason. There was healing and good vibes. Follow your dreams, kids. Buy now. Etc etc...

He... survived? How? Damn it. Doesn't say. But... shit. He's cause a LOT of trouble, isn't he? And it looks like he's kind... railroading his sister into a specific route. That, or keeping her from emotionally cheating on her fiancée. Can't tell. Haven't met her. Looks like he's also patented a few... is that a fucking WHISK? Holy shit. These are all early industrial revolution!

Looking up from the reports, I stare blankly into space. Is... is the Protagonist's brother... ALSO a Reincarnator? What do I do with that? Do I contact him? Say "hello"? "I'm here too"? I thought I was... was completely alone in this world. But of all the places he could BE. Smack dap RIGHT in the middle of all the action?! Holy SHIT.

I'm going to have to think about this. A LOT.

Correcting the reports, I step back into the hallways. Casual as you please. Continue on my way, even as my mind churns and churns. Why is he gathering allies? Why hide for so long? Is he counting on his sister's plot armor to carry over? Or does he have actual military training? He's amassing loyalists. For WHAT?

And the reports said he's searching for something. Seem to suggest that WE are keeping it AWAY from him. What are we hiding? Protecting?

People? Resources? A mine?

I reached Master Nobutoshi's study, in his private wing. The halls quite, as only the most elite and trusted servants were allowed to travel here. Kneeling, I knocked on the door frame, waited to be acknowledged.

Receiving an almost absent-minded acknowledgement, I slide open the door.

Framed by delicately painted screen and thickly stuffed book shelves, Iwamoto Nobutoshi was, as always, the very picture of an elite scholar. Beautiful and refined. Slow and deliberate in movements, as though each had been pondered and found acceptable. I had never met a man more graceful. Not in this life, not in the last.

To my right, the sliding door to the gardens were open. Giving a picturesque view of summer, as it faded into fall. To the left, painted screens. Done by some Master's hand. With a splendid level of detail that still caught me off gaurd, even now. There were birds, in those painted trees! Had there always been? I wished I could look closer.

Nonetheless, I respectfully offered the reports for perusal.

"Right on time. This One had begun to worry." He said as he set aside his brush, smile mild as ever, even as his eyes swiftly cataloged each new discrepancy. There were several. "Bruises. Did the new padding in your suit, not sufficiently protect? This One will be most displeased if we have been lied too. We were promised it would."

No, and that was the thing, wasn't it? My kit? Had never been better. But... I had been damn near ambushed on my way TOO my job. Had to take evasive maneuvers. Do a LOT more parkour then I was comfortable with. Those fuckers had been... persistent. Weirdly so. Which made no sense, since they didn't seem affiliated with anyone I recognized.

"Oh?" The question was less a question and more a flat note of outrage. He held a hand out for the reports, began to read. "How... interesting. They certainly seem to be getting bold. This One begins to wonder. If he has perhaps been too kind, that they would see fit to harrass his-"

An ominous silence fills the room as he cuts off mid-sentence, as his eyes find something on the page he's reading. He has gone utterly still. The gentle curl of smoke from his pipe, wafting around him like the warning trails of a dragon. The deadly hidden embers of a forest fire, flaring up. His pleasant smile had frozen upon his face. Like a mask.

"He certainly does love to push his luck, does he? Make demands, for things he has no right too. Things which are ours." The words weren't even so much addressed to me? As the were a hissed accusation, towards the report in his hand. Someone, somewhere, seemed REALLY dead set on pissing Master Nobutoshi off.

Honestly? That seemed really unwise, but it's their funeral... I guess...?

Master Nobutoshi turns so suddenly I only barely avoid flinching. Jumping like a newbie. He's doing that "pick you apart at the seems" stare again. Looking into my soul. I remain politely deferential, patient, as I wait for him to work through his thoughts. He rises from his desk. Elegant and prowling, as he stalks towards me. Gaze intense, fixated. I... I am missing something.

"Tell me, my loyal little shadow. What would you do? If some... upstart, dared begin to covet, that which was yours? Started panting after your dearly beloved trusted, like a filthy dog? Trying to steal them away? Would you take that? Tolerate such disrespect? I... This One... can not imagine you would."

"You are so very loyal. So diligent. You serve me not for fame or glory, power nor wealth. You ask for so little, offer so much. I would give the world to you. My precious, loyal, little shadow. Forever by my side. No doubt, we shall grow old together. That they would covet you? The audacity is unthinkable."

Soft yet warrior calloused hands, come up to cup my cheeks. And... ah. Yeah. T-That's pretty fucking CLEAR on what I'm missing. My boss? Has a thing for me? Crush? Or... or is it "is in love with"? W-what was that about people coveting?! Hold on! Roll things back a second! What's happening?! I never thought I was blind... about apparently I need a stick and some GLASSES.

Because there is "missed some subtext" and then there's "dude, how do you miss the silent war with guerrilla tactics, right fucking IN FRONT OF YOU?!", so like? Either I was being DELIBERATELY kept seperate? Or... actually? No. That actually sound exactly like what probably happened. An information diet.

FUCK.

Before I could decide how, exactly, I felt about that? The same door I had entered through, opened again. This time sharply and with an audible snap. Dragging urgently along it's tracks and hitting its end, in a way the delicate crafting had never been meant for. I swear it nearly cracked. Alarmed, I spun, breaking free of Master Nobutoshi's hold on my face, to face whoever was at the door.

Aiko.

Shouldn't she be near the front gates? "Sweeping" and listening to gossip for the Shadows? How. Why!? My eyes catch on slowly spreading red. Stark against her... our uniform, she's hurt. Badly. Gripping her side and the door frame like it's the only thing still holding her up. Her face ashy pale and sweating with terrible pain. Eyes determined. Her jaw set in that stubborn, stubborn grit.

"Master. You need to leave. Now! They...!" She wavers, starting to blackout from the pain, before forcing it back. "They've attacked! We're holding them back. A-As best as we c..can! Please! Lord Iwamoto, I BEG you! You must go! If you don't survive this, then everything is lost!"

As if to underline the terrible wait of her words, an explosion goes off, shaking the austere foundations of the ancient house in which I serve. My mind immediately flits and races along the emergency protocols. W-was that one of ours? Did we..? No. No, we would have... DID set up barricades. This is our house. We've already trapped it.

They are the ones who brought explosives.

You don't bring things like those, if you plan to leave survivors. You bring those? When you plan to make EXAMPLES. Aiko is right. We have to go. Now. Heart hurting, I nod to my roommate, one of my best friends, and know that this is it. I will likely never see her again, alive. There are... so many goodbyes, words, I wish I had time to say.

In the look she shoots me? I see the same.

We knew this might come.

Just... just hoped it never would.

My boss's crush can wait. His LIFE is more important. I turn and reach for him, to guide him towards the screens, leading deeper into his wing. Get to him easily. But do not get more then two steps before an arm, like steel, is suddenly around my waist and jerking me back.

Jerking US back. Towards the wall of scrolls and decorative pieces, that sat behind Master Nobutoshi's desk. Startled, my gaze shoots down to see Master Nobutoshi's arm, unhesitating and possessive, wrapped around my waist. There is... a lot more muscle under those flowing robes, then I ever suspected. But-?

I do not even have time to think, to ponder, the question before it is violently answered. The masterfully painted screens, that I had long admired, smashing and tearing as bodies crash through them.

Takashi, dead on the floor, sword still in hand. Around him, his teammates dying, as they still tried to by their Lord even a few moments more, to escape. The large, ever polite Shadow, a man who had been like a brother to me... dumped upon the ground like little more then trash. To be tossed aside and discarded. Stepped over, on some other man's campaign.

His blood mixed with the ruins of the Hunting Tiger screen. Two proud, quietly noble wonders, destroyed. It had been his favorite.

Aiko howled with rage and grief. Threw herself into the fight.

We had been family.

I turned, away, hating myself for it. Knowing it's what they would want. Tears threatened but I could not let them come. Not... not yet. Not yet. There was an emergency exit. Where? Where!? I remembered it. I knew, I knew it! But the grief was muddling my mind, making it slow. Damn it. DAMN IT! WHERE WAS IT!!!??

Master Nobutoshi reached past me. Gripping the hilt of decorative sword, he lifted and drew. It.. it was not decorative. Merely disguised. A masterwork blade. It sang ominously as it cut through the air, entering the scene. Then... a face, breathe, pressed to the side of my head. Like.. like a lover? A terrible discordance, in this already awful event.

"Behind the Three Mountains and a Shrine, My Love. I will be with you shortly."

I froze. The world froze, for all it continued, around me. Distantly... I felt Master Nobutoshi loosen his grip, after... after one last possessive squeeze. Let go. Felt him turn away, as he faced the room. But... but that was... he.... he had....

W-was that? I-Informal? A..And WHAT did he call m-!?

My hand, shaking, found the right scroll. Somehow. Without my numb, panicking mind, they moved dispite me. Somehow determined to keep me alive, dispite my shock. I flicked the right switch. Disarmed the traps in the order they needed to be. And... click. There was the trap door. Our... our way out...

I stared. Blankly. W.. what was I supposed to..? Do?

Was I finally... in shock? That's... probably not good. Bad, actually. I should... should move. There are swords here. It's...? Dangerous? Yes. Dangerous. Bad. I need too... too think. Cry, maybe. Somewhere... not loud. With... with no... no swords.

Stumbling. Stiffly. Like my body was not my own anymore, I knelt. Hands clumsy and far away, I struggled with the trap door. Finally got it. People were... were fighting. Hurting. I... I didn't want to be here anymore. Didn't want to be ANYWHERE anymore. I... I wanted it to stop.

Why? Why wouldn't they all just... just STOP.

Aiko. Takashi. My teammates. Who else? Who else was hurt? G-gone? I was... was supposed to be SAFE. This was supposed to be SAFE. I worked so hard. Compromised and compromised, pushed myself down, and made myself fit. I worked and worked and WORKED, until I had nothing LEFT, b... because this was supposed to be SAFE!!!

I... I was supposed to b-be...!

"Iwamoto!" A voice roared above the chaos and fighting. "Where is She?! I know you're keeping her somewhere!"

Like a lions roar, some primal part of my brain demanded I pay attention. Now. Dragging, with brutal claws, my fragile mind, from its drifting cloud of numbness. One leg already on the steps to the escape tunnel, I turned, and... with horror? Realized I was to blame. For... for ALL of this.

Because? There, in armor, stood the Protagonist's brother. Surrounded by his men, with his sister safely at home, what other SHE could he POSSIBLY mean? If not the one? That ALSO remembers? H...He killed Aiko. Takashi. For THIS?

Monster.

Oh god, he.. he was a MONSTER.

Master Nobutoshi and the Reincarnator squared off. Swords drawn, men at their back. Already, so many were dead. So many I had known. Had worked with. My friends. Just... just pawns, between two powerful men. Dizzy, I realized, they... they hadn't even glanced at them. Didn't even seem to SEE them. Just... just more fodder. For their grand campaigns.

"You know?" Nobutoshi all but purred, as he clashed blades with his opponent. "I really must thank you. You helped me realize, the true worth of the gem I possessed. And, once you're dealt with? I will no longer need to hide her in obscurity. With you dead, little rat, I can finally have her, in every way that matters."

"She'll be a beautiful bride." His grin was a savage thing, full of baring teeth.

The Protagonist's brother raged. A lion, a mountain, and a warlord. Fury twisting what were, no doubt, handsome features into something horrifying. Blade work swift and brutal. How many of my friend's blood? Still painted that blade? Still stained his armor? He dressed himself like he thought he was the hero. He was destroying the only home I had known, for these past decades.

"Pervert! You disgusting CREEP! You think you can just imprison women until they love you?! I always knew there was something wrong with you, but this? This take the cake, you FREAK! I'm getting her out of here! Stopping your schemes! Once and for all!" The Brother roared, something unhinged in his eyes. A lifetime of isolation at last, too much, now that relief might finally be at hand. "You'll never understand her! You CAN'T understand her! Not like me! She was MADE FOR ME! We're supposed to be in this TOGETHER! And I WON'T let you keep me from her ANY LONGER, YOU FREAK!"

They couldn't see anyone but each other, as they fought. Brutal. Savage. Singing blades and madness. Around the room, the two sides clashed. Died. Pointlessly, at the command of their Lords. Sitting at the entrance to the escape route, I could see Aiko from here. Takashi. Both dead, gone, where just this morning we had been joking over our plans for an upcoming festival. We... we were going to hit up the candy booths first. Double back to store our loot. Then enjoy the festivities.

It was a good plan. I was going to pretend... that... that I didn't notice Aiko, stealing all the sour plum candies. I hated them. She loved them. But would never take them if I offered. O.. only fun if she could sneak um. Takashi would save me my favorites. Wasn't much of a sweets guy.

Gone...

All gone.

And for what? Because I "belonged" to the Brother? Because Master Nobu-...no. Because Iwamoto Nobutoshi, picked a FIGHT? All I wanted was to be safe. Live quietly. No plot. No drama. No chaos. Just... just market days and laundry, sweeping and helping make dumplings. Weeding the gardens. Napping with kids and cats. Slowness and the shifting of seasons.

A life, unremarkable.

I looked down into the escape tunnel. Dark, long, and to somewhere unknown.

They did not notice me leave.

[r1z3n]

I just think they are neat:

As a whole Batfamily are odd, strangle, and like often questioned if they are cryptids.

But, I think the first 3 Robins are the worst.

Like don't get me wrong they are all bad for it. Gothamnite being Gothamnites.

But Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim Drake are Often the first reason people quote for wondering if Batfam is human.

Like everyone else including Cassandra Cain have this level of 'you are just missing the entire context', like you met them and yeah you have questions and you wonder but it is like seeing Olympic athletics or experts in their field do something, you feel like you can just barely see the years of training it took.

However Dick, Jason and Tim? they just have this hair raising of 'no context could explain you'. Like Dick Grayson has been an professional athletic his Entire Life, being a Vigilante for at least 75% of it, and pretty sure is a genius. He wouldn't know how to be average if it bit him. Again for a previous post, he probably has to think about moving 'normally' and within the 'average human' range. Which is something he probably Had To Learn to do. So everyone that knew him pre-that probably remembers even subconsciously.

Jason goddamn Died, and came back for one. Then like from what I can tell took less time training to become on-par with Batman. Probably moves a little bit like Nightwing, because foundationally that is who he modelled himself after during his Robin era. Soul Swords my dudes. He probably freaks Constantine out so hard.

Tim Drake, well do you want to start with how often he has existed outside of time and the way that probably altered some stuff? or do we want to talk about the way he probably has the same issue as Dick, in his probably has to think about moving because Dick Grayson was his Hero. Like there is so much more that could be played with, because yeah those three probably just flip the uncanny valley switch of 'dangerous and you can't ever comprehend why'. It is probably actually worse for the actually aliens/non-humans you know, like the other humans meta or not are probably a little more used to dismissing that feeling.

Also I think those three are completely Unaware how unsettling they are, even to the other bats. Like they know, but they think it is completely on the Bat level

Like Damian or Duke will likely join them eventually in being as unsettling. Damian because he is young and his Batman was Dick Grayson, and Duke because his normal vigilante baseline is Batfam and he seems the type to think 'I have to match them' then does. I think Stephine purposefully choose not follow the steps because that is not who she wants to be. Cass has moments but Cass is too body aware for it not be on purpose and that intentional action feel different.

[ryotono]

Hashiras/Pillars and [Y/N] and quotes and mucho rizz hihi (sorry)

Feat. Kamaboko squad!

Enjoy!

When Tanjiro attacks sanemi:

[Y/N]: GET HIM BOY, F*CKING KICK HIS ASS AYOOO

Giyuu: so it's you the bad influence

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

In the Battle against Upper moon one:

[Y/N] looking at Kokushibo: so, he is your like great-great-grandfather?

Muichiro: yes

[Y/N]: oh...

[Y/N]: is he single?

Muichiro: wtf

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Tanjiro: what's your breathing style? you're a hashira, so must be something really cool!

[Y/N]: I can tell you only if you promise it's a secret between us

Tanjiro: oh ofc!

[Y/N] get closer: it's rizz

Tanjiro: what

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zenitsu: what do you mean "Rizz" that's not even a breathing style-

[Y/N] pointing to the other pillars: do you see all that people?

Zenitsu: yes?

[Y/N]: all of them are my bitches, except for muichiro, muichiro is my baby

[Y/N]: so don't do "tHaT's NoT eVeN a BrEaThInG sTyLE" to me boy, because my rizz is upper than you ever gonna be, understood?

Zenitsu, crying: y-yes sir

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hashira meeting:

Giyuu: y'all joking, [Y/N] doesn't have a crush in me

Gyomei: yes they do

Uzui: sadly they do

Sanemi: they fucking do you blind ass f*cker ("no offense gyomei" "it's okay")

Mitsuri: they do!!! ^^

Muichiro: that cloud looks like a duck, ha

Shinobu: they do tomioka san

Rengoku: NO JOKES, THEY DO PARTNER!

Obanai: they do, and it's disgusting

[Y/N]: yes I do, very much actually

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: okay but what about your great-great-uncle?

Muichiro: leave me alone

[Y/N]: answer the question muichiro, ANSWER

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Inosuke: HEY YOU, THE HASHIRA

[Y/N]: hm, me?

Inosuke: YES, FIGHT ME!

[Y/N]: HOLY SH*T PEPPA PIG??

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: I don't understand, how could i have food poisoning?

Shinobu: did you eat something strange?

[Y/N]: no! I just made me some food

Shinobu: that explains a lot

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: so you telling that we have to beat Michael Jackson?

Ubuyashiki: yes- wait, who-

[Y/N]: what if "HEE HEE" us? I'm scared, rengoku hold me

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: I’ve only had Kamaboko Squad for a day and a half

[Y/N]: but if anything happened to them I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sanemi: WHAT DID YOU SAY?

[Y/N]: i said that if you keep screaming and threatening your beautiful little brother, I'm gonna get your sword and f*cking shove in your ass, got it :)?

Sanemi: alright

let's try again

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sanemi: WHAT DID YOU SAY?

[Y/N]: I hate you, but at the same time I want to kiss you so bad, and give you all the love and support you deserve babe

Sanemi: ???

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N] in a mission with Mitsuri and Obanai:

Obanai, obviously furious: can't you just go away? There's enough pillars in this mission

[Y/N]: yeah I can go, but I don't want to miss your failure to confess to Mitsuri, start dating, eventually getting married and have kids, living happy, but because your such a weakass, none of this is going to happen

Obanai: ... You don't need to say that y'know

[Y/N]: oh yes I need

just kidding I love obanai

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gyomei: hello there

[Y/N]: boobs

Gyomei: sorry?

[Y/N] sweating: i-i mean titties- NO I MEAN BIG MEN BOOBS F*CK I MEAN HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU??

Gyomei:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

X: Master Ubuyashiki, we need to stop the Hashira [Y/N]

Ubuyashiki: why is that

X: They are adopting all the kids here, started with that group with the demon sister, then the younger brothers of the Wind and Flame Pillar and the girls from Butterfly State, even the Mist Pillar are gone

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Akaza: guess it's your end now rengoku

[Y/N]: THE FUCK IT'S NOT YOUR KICKED BASKETBALL SON OF A BI-

TANJIRO: WHERE'D YOU EVEN COME FROM?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Extra!

Akaza: and suddenly appears this crackhead kinda of demon slayer, and starts barking at me

Kokushibo: like a dog?

Akaza: yes

Demon [Y/N]: heh, I like them

TWO [Y/N]'S????? AND CRACKHEAS??? PROTECT YOUR CHILDREN PEOPLE

That's all for today! Thank you all for reading and interacting with my other posts ;) Love y'all!!!!

(English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any misspelling or errors)

[gin-juice-tonic]

Not to get too into it, because to be honest I don't enjoy thinking about the bill book, but what with the panel being tomorrow/today it's on my mind right now anyway. So lets get a teensy bit into it.

The subject at hand: The giant back and forth block quote dialogues in the missing journal pages section.

I think we can all admit that's weird. To call it "significantly weird" would likely be a matter of disagreement, but it's definitely weird. Ford didn't write like that in J3.

But the thing about it is... It's not just weird in a vacuum.

It's weird and also paired with the context of the last however many pages before the journal ones having been essentially Bill's memoirs/biography/whatever.

Bill has been talking our ears off about himself for an entire book, and suddenly we get to these journal pages where it is for some reason of the utmost importance to quote every bit of dialogue Bill is delivering. It takes up several entire pages, over and over again. None of that was something that could've been paraphrased or otherwise condensed in some way?

While it is true that Ford had a lot of reverence for Bill pre-betrayal, I don't think it went so far as for him to feel he must record every word Bill said to him like this. (And continue to do so post betrayal as well?) Within Journal 3 proper, we don't even get a single quote in general from Bill until Ford details his time in the nightmare realm after his return.

I don't think Ford thought the journals needed all these direct quotes of Bill's in them. I think Bill does.

I think Bill's been screaming "pay attention to me!" for an entire book, and now you're gonna have to sit through his full set of remarks in these journal pages, because his thoughts and ideas and words are just that important. So important that he needed to insert them where they were never actually written down.

It could be that he genuinely said some of it, and wanted you, the reader, to 1) know that he said it and 2) know exactly how he said it. Some of it might be things he said but paraphrased or edited in that sort of "And then I said [xyz]" way people do when they tell stories. And maybe some of it he's just completely made up. I think there's probably a mix/assortment of all of these going on. But regardless of what of it is true and what isnt, I don't think any of it was ever in the journals.

.

Though I do admittedly have a stance on one "quote", and it's that Bill supposedly being the one who first said "Trust no one" has real "Yeah, I taught him that" energy. Like oh, I'm sorry. Ford's famous quote was actually yours first, Bill? The big quote central to the big mystery element of Gravity Falls and heavily affecting the attitude of the main character was one you came up with, not Ford? Sure, pal.