#and quicker to read

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Can't believe this writer is trying to argue the problem with the show is that it isn't treating the main villain like a one-note, simplistic character and this is somehow too confusing because viewers won't know he's the villain despite all the villainous things he does like murder, manipulation, gaslighting, and orchestrating the complete destruction of an entire Elven realm. How media illiterate do you have to be to think exploring a villain's motivation in some way constitutes trying to trick the audience into think he isn't really a villain?

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People - Final Part

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

It is not often that Wayne is happy with the monotony of work. Tonight is one of those nights, if only because it allows him to think about where he went wrong speaking to Eddie. He had never meant to imply he thought Eddie was like Al; he'd meant the apple and tree comment to for Richard and Steve. However, he does acknowledge why Eddie drew the conclusion that Wayne might have thought Eddie would follow in Al's footsteps.

Wayne's being a hypocrite, applying the logic to one boy, but not the other. And even though he never, not once, thought that Eddie would become Al, he'll never be able to take that thought from Eddie's mind that he had. He can apologize until he's blue in the face, Eddie might even forgive him, but he's not sure Eddie will ever believe him. Not truly.

And how could Wayne expect him to?

No. That's a shame Wayne will take to the grave.

Next strike to Wayne's conscious; the misjudgment of Steve Harrington, and how it ties into the fact Eddie accused him of not trusting his judgement, and, moreover, Eddie being right. Wayne hadn't trusted in Eddie's trust of Steve.

He should have. It's been years since Eddie came home crying about a boy, but what father doesn't see their kid crying over their first heartbreak and doesn't grow protective? And with Eddie, it's even more terrifying. Getting mixed up with the wrong boy could mean bruised ribs, black eyes, or worse.

In a town like Hawkins, a boy would just have to claim Eddie made a sexual advance and his murder could (would) be justified.

Now add the manhunt and being suspected of murderer to that. Well, Wayne's scared for Eddie's life almost every minute of his day.

But it's no excuse. Or if it is, it's a poor one.

Wayne doesn't know the full story but he does know that Steve was with the group of people on Eddie's side; that he was there with the Henderson kid, the Buckley girl, and Nancy Wheeler, digging Eddie out of the rubble from the earthquake, getting him to the hospital as fast as they could.

Steve Harrington was part of the group that saved Eddie's life, and that should have meant more to begin with. Instead, Wayne's been waiting for a shoe to drop that very well isn't coming.

He's going to fix this.

He'll give Eddie his space to be angry with him, and he'll try again in a few days.

When Wayne gets home, around 6:30am, Eddie's van is gone. He's not surprised. He probably left shortly after Wayne did, not leaving sooner just to avoid him.

There is a note on Wayne's bed when he makes it there. Says he's at Steve, and instead of letting Wayne know when he'll return it just says the words 'be back' followed by a bunch of questions marks. He ends it with 'call if worried' and leaves a phone number that must be for the Harrington residence.

Another hurt Wayne can't blame on anyone but himself.

Wednesday passes. Wayne eats breakfast, goes grocery shopping, pretends to care about his shows before sleeping the afternoon away to prepare for another graveyard. Eddie has not returned when he wakes, and two short hours later, he's off to work.

Eddie's van remains gone.

Returns from work Thursday morning and repeats Wednesday. He replaces grocery shopping with laundry and cleaning out the leftovers for trash day tomorrow morning. Goes to work.

Friday morning he returns home. No Eddie. He waits for it to be a more appropriate time, a little before 10:00am to call the number Eddie left.

It rings, rings, rings, then, a voice he hasn't heard in years. Richard Harrington's voice sounds as cold as it always was as the answering machine recites, "You've reached the Harrington's. We are not available. Leave a message."

"This is Wayne Munson. I just wanted to make sure Eddie's- that's he's alright. Let him know that I called. Checked on him. He doesn't need to call back but I'd appreciate it."

He hangs up the phone, lump in his throat. He misses his boy, and he wants to make his right, but he can't force that. Eddie has to always want to make it okay between them.

He's usually off Fridays, but he asked to pick up a shift. He can't face Linda without having fixed this. He spends the morning and afternoon doing all the small fixes he'd been putting off. Anything to keep him busy. He goes to sleep at his usual time, and wakes up two hours before his shift like normal.

Check's his answering machine but if anyone called while he was asleep, they didn't leave a message. There's still no van when he heads to work.

The plant tells him to leave an hour early. He tries to argue to stay but he's just waved off, told to go get some sleep because he's been looking a little worse for the wear.

He gets back to Forest Hills around 5:40am and finds there is another car parked at his home. Not Eddie's van, but the sleek maroon BMW that belongs to Steve Harrington parked where the van usually is.

When he pulls into his spot, the headlights of his truck light up Steve, sitting on his steps, wrapped in a coat. It can't be more than 50℉ outside right now.

Steve stands as Wayne cuts the engine and climbs from his truck. He gets to the front of his truck and Steve speaks.

"Eddie's okay," Steve says, hands shoving deep into his pockets, "I tried to get him to call you back yesterday but, well, you know Eddie."

Wayne nods, because he does know Eddie. "I appreciate you tellin' me. But you coulda just called."

"I could have."

They look at each other for a moment, and just as Steve opens his mouth, probably to tell Wayne he's going to go, Wayne speaks first, "you wanna come inside and have a cup of coffee to warm up?"

Steve tilts his head slightly to the left before he says, "are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright," and then Steve steps away from the stairs so Wayne can climb them and let them into the trailer. Steve follows behind silently but with familiarity. He's spent so much of his time here since spring break- the shame crawls through Wayne again. He'd assumed, once upon a time, that Eddie and Steve spent more time here than at Steve's because why would Steve want the trailer park boy in his big fancy house? Now, though, he wonders if it's because this place felt more like a home, even with Wayne's cold shoulder.

Steve sits at their little kitchen table, a luxury they didn't have before because there was no room in the single wide, one bedroom they'd had before. The new double wide (with three bedrooms) offered them a bit more space for a dining area.

Wayne's still suspicious of the government's offer to replace their destroyed home, but he wasn't foolish enough to deny the offer when it was made to him by Jim Hopper (newly returned from the dead back then).

"How do you take your coffee?" Wayne asks, once the machine finishes filling the carafe.

"Oh, I can fix it-"

"Nonsense," Wayne waves him back to sitting, "just tell me."

"I like it with just enough milk to take the scalding heat out of it," Steve says, and while Wayne's not sure just how much that it, he tries anyway.

He sets a cup in front of Steve before taking a seat across from him. "I really do appreciate that you came to tell me Eddie's okay. I want to give him his space but...."

Steve sips his coffee before shooting his cup a small smile. Wayne must have got the ratio right. Then, he looks to Wayne and the smile drops, a more serious expression taking its place and he says, "Eddie wouldn't really tell me what your fight was about, other than, uh, me and that you... overheard some of what I said last time I was here. I don't, like, want to come between you and Eddie, but I'm not, I'm not going to let you scare me away. So, just tell me what I have to do to get Eddie to believe we're cool, and I'll do it. Anything, except for getting out of Eddie's life. 'Cause I won't."

"I would never ask you to do that," Wayne says. Steve squints at him, a look of suspicion now. Completely warranted, given what Steve has known of Wayne thus far. "I owe you an apology, Steve. For how I've been treatin' you."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh. What? Why?"

"You've been nothin' but good to Eddie. For Eddie. And I refused to see that. I made a judgment about you without knowin' anything but your name." Steve let's out a soft 'oh' at that, but Wayne plows on, "And that weren't fair, and it weren't right. I can't undo it, but I want you to know I regret it. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Steve says, after a moment. "I forgive you."

It's Wayne's turn to be surprised. He's a bit speechless. So much so, he takes a page right out of Eddie's book and asks, "are you sure?" which is a question he's never asked after having an apology accepted before, but one Eddie had asked a lot when he first came to live with Wayne, and they were learning to co-exist.

"Yeah. I get it."

He doesn't like that answer. Doesn't like the he contributed to the mind set that gave Steve that answer. "You're allowed to be mad at me for it."

"I think Eddie's mad enough for both of us."

It doesn't feel like closure. It doesn't feel like forgiveness, but Wayne doesn't know what to say. He can't just start sprouting all the bad things he thought about Steve; there's no reason Steve should have to listen to that. But without hearing it, Steve doesn't even know what he's forgiving Wayne for. "I'll be honest with ya, Steve. It feels like you shouldn't."

Steve frowns at him. "Why?"

Why? Why? For all the reasons Eddie yelled at him, and all the things Linda said, and all the agony he's felt these last few days. The guilt and the shame that still eat at him, even as Steve Harrington says he forgives him. "It's too easy."

Those three words have Steve leaning back against the chair. His eyes dance around Wayne's face before taking in the whole of him. Or, what Steve can see of him with from across the table. When Steve meets his eye again, Wayne sees recognition there. "If you can't forgive yourself, I get that. I do. I-I've spent most of my life as one big apology. And I'm not saying that I, like, don't still feel like- what I mean to say, is that, I forgive you. I'm not, like, gonna hold it against you that you were just trying to look out for Eddie, man. Like, two years ago your fears would have been justified, so."

"Don't make it right," Wayne argues, but he doesn't know why.

"No," Steve agrees, "but I'm forgiving you anyway. You think you're the first person to hear the name Steve Harrington and assume you know everything you need to know about me already?"

Steve's words sound like they could be confrontational, but his tone is light. Teasing? Wayne says, "no. Suppose I'm not."

"Every person I love has done that," Steve says, and the ease of which he says that has Wayne feeling some sort of way. Eddie's words echo in his mind 'you made me help him feel that way'. How many other people have made him feel like he's a bad person? "Even- even Eddie. He made a point, during spring break, to, uh, well, he didn't apologize for anything because there was nothing to apologize about, but he made a point to tell me I was very 'metal' and a 'cool dude' so.... I know my name comes with, like, a shadow or a curse or whatever. I think it will for as long as I live in Hawkins, but that's," Steve flaps his hand in the air, as if that fills in for the word he can't find, and it's a move so reminiscent of Eddie. "Anyway, if you aren't actually, like, ready to accept an apology, you shouldn't be making one."

Wayne sits in that for a moment. There's a lot more to Steve Harrington than he'd ever thought. So much he doesn't know, actually, but he thinks he's okay with learning more. This boy told Eddie he was half-way in love with him earlier this week, and while Wayne never heard Eddie say it back, he knew anyway. It's why he was so protective. "You're pretty wise for your age."

Steve grins and shakes his head. "Nah, that last part was all Robin. She says it all the time to me."

"Well, then you best stop apologizing when you ain't ready to accept the forgiveness," Wayne parrots back the words.

Steve throws his head back and laughs.

They finish their coffee with silence and small talk. Steve tells him about how he never thought he'd miss his job at the video store but working at Melvald's is making him long for the days when the biggest complaint was late fees. Apparently, there's so many more things to complain about in retail.

Wayne talks about working at the plant and how the tasks are repetitive and a bit labor intensive, but the graveyard pay is worth it. Steve asks him a few more questions about working at the plant that Wayne's happy to answer and the more Steve asks, the more Wayne becomes aware that Steve might be looking for a change of occupation. He makes a mental note to put in a good word to Floyd, just in case.

Steve leaves with the promise of returning with Eddie, as soon as possible. As he was heading to the door, Wayne asked why he showed up so early.

"Eddie can't stop me if he's not awake," was Steve's answer, a mischievous grin on his face.

Wayne watches from the porch as Steve backs out. Steve shoots him one last little wave with his fingers before heading away.

He goes back inside and washes the dishes. Even dries and puts them away, a feat usually done once a week; he and Eddie have no qualms with using dishes directly from the dish drainer. His only other chore for the day is leaving for work a bit early so he has time to stop at the gas station and fill up the truck.

Grabbing the remote from its spot on the coffee table, Wayne plops onto the couch to spend his day as mindlessly as possible with some TV.

He goes to sleep at his usual time and wakes up at 7:43pm according to his alarm clock; a little over two hours before his shift is to start. It's time for more coffee, he thinks as he dresses for work before heading to the kitchen.

He jerks to a stop when he sees Eddie and Steve sitting on the couch, leaned close and talking softly. He's not about to repeat a past mistake, so he makes his presence known. "Evenin' boys."

Eddie pops up from the couch quick as lightning, taking a few steps towards Wayne before stopping. "I don't like being mad at you."

Wayne nods, "I don't much like you bein' mad at me, either. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Eddie closes the distance between them, then, and pulls Wayne into a tight hug. Wayne returns it instantly, how can he not? He hears Eddie say, softly, "it's worth an awful lot, you terrible old man."

They part, and Eddie speaks first, "but if you ever pull shit like this again, I won't be so quick to forgive."

"I won't," Wayne says, at the same time Steve says, "he won't."

Both Munsons look at Steve, who grins back at them.

"You think you know my uncle that well already, from one shared cup of coffee?" Eddie asks, sounding amused.

Steve shrugs, "no. I just, uh, plan to stick around, y'know. Kinda hoping there's no dude after me for him to be an angry dad about. I would appreciate it, though, Mr. Munson, if you'd skip the shovel talk bit of all this?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and Wayne's a bit shocked by what Steve's implied. What Steve's admitted, really, out loud in front of another person. Wayne wonders if any boy Eddie's ever liked before would have done that.

"What good's a shove talk when you've already told me you ain't goin' anywhere?" Wayne says, hoping his tone is as light and teasing as he wants it to be.

"Glad we're on the same page," Steve agrees, "but, uhh, do you want me to go? So you can have a real talk?"

"No," says Eddie.

"No," says Wayne, at the same time.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, in that case, you got anything to drink here besides coffee?"

Wayne nods and they all pile into the kitchen to get a beverage before settling in the living room. There will be time to talk later, Wayne realizes. He's going to apologize properly.

Later, though, when he'll really be ready to accept Eddie's forgiveness, because there's no doubt Eddie'll forgive him. So, he's going to sit in the living room and chat with his boys until he has to go to work.

By the time Friday comes around again, he'll be able to tell Linda she was right, everything's going to be okay one day, and maybe ask her on a date he's been putting off asking for since high school.

Done!! I hope the ending is sufficiently cheesy.

I'm so sorry if I missed you! There were a lot of people asking to be tagged haha

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @kaij-basil-lionelli88 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mugloversonly @limpingpenguin @krazyperson @acrolius @salisbury-at-the-stake @littlebookworm86 @savedbytheirmusic @wxrmland @myownworstenemyyy @thelittleclare @awkotaco24 @djohawke @wrenisflying @croatoan-like-its-hot @actualwakingnightmare @krowepoison @jamieweasley13 @yourmom-isgay @irregular-child @oldwitcheshat @abstractnaturaldisaster @wishiwasacasualfan @vinteraltus @zerokrox-blog @warlordess @stevesbipanic @steveshairspray @slowandsteddie @samsoble @waelkyring @just-a-tiny-void @saramelaniemoon @halfadoginatank @nightmareglitter @scarletyeager @hellfireone @rovia2312 @munsonslure @a-little-unsteddie @soaringornithopter @eddiethehunted @starlight-archer @dryptid @inkjette

[obsob]

there he is......the man of the house

[elbiotipo]

american anarchists in my city do like milei because he's also an anarchist and is dismantling the state, they want that for america too

That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

Does this look like someone who will abolish the state to you

[thedemises]

——— THE REMEMBERED。 ★ jing yuan.

note; I got inspired and since december bouta end, I thought to quickly whip this up cuz that :3 man is on my mind rn :3c (the og title was supposed to be “a picture for the remembered” but it was too long so :C)

the streets of the luofu were alive with the sound of festivities as smiles and laughter echoed through the air. citizens bustled about while store vendors prepared and sold gifts and treats to eager buyers.

the christmas festival had brought together the xianzhou alliance in a way few events ever could. jing yuan, the esteemed general of the luofu, strolled through the decorated streets with a rare lightness in his step. the hum of laughter and music surrounded him, yet his thoughts were elsewhere — gaze noticing the visitor who had just arrived.

“ah, there you are,” jing yuan greeted calmly, his gaze settling on you as his body turned around to face you. you stood before him in all your glory; a faraway traveler originating from a planet you rarely spoke of to others — reserved but charming enough to connect with those around you, you were a unique wanderer who had assisted in the stellaron crisis, alongside the passengers of the astral express.

“i'm glad that i could make it,” you replied, mirroring his carefree smile, your hands clutched a carefully wrapped package that concealed the gift within its wrapping. “things have been going smoothly here, no?”

jing yuan threw his head back with a hearty laugh, the sound rumbling through the festive air. he crossed his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed, yet commanding. “of course not. holidays on the luofu are something else,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “i wouldn’t miss them for the world — even if it means being away work behind for a bit, ahahaha.”

your laughter joined his, light and genuine, as your eyes crinkled at the corners. the warmth in your expression mirrored his, the energy between you both as easy and bright as the festival around you.

jing yuan's golden eyes lingered on the package in your hands, his calm facade giving way to a subtle tilt of his head; his gaze, sharp yet warm, flickered between you and the neatly wrapped gift. stepping just a touch closer, his voice carried a quiet intrigue. “and just who,” he asked, his tone light but inviting, "might be the lucky one for this gift be?”

“hm?” your gaze followed his pointing finger, eyes landing on the neatly wrapped gift cradled in your hands. a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you extended it toward him. “oh, it’s actually for you, general. here,”

the general's brows lifted ever so slightly which betrays the brief off-guard look in his face, his golden eyes widening for a brief moment. “for me?” he echoed, his voice laced with a hint of surprise — then, his smile comes back, easy and unshaken, as he reached out to accept the gift from your insisting hands.

“how thoughtful of you, my friend.”

his hands closed around the package, and as he held its weight, his expression shifted just slightly — a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. the gift felt heavy — not in mass — but in meaning, as if it carried a piece of a history he had long guarded in his very heart.

“merry christmas, general jing yuan,” you said, your voice carrying a quiet joy that resonated with the warmth in your expression. your hand pressed lightly over your chest, a subtle gesture as if offering a piece of your own heart along with the words. the soft glow of the festival lights danced across your face, but your gaze remained steady on him, filled with purpose.

“i hope this gift i prepared for you is meaningful not just in your heart,” you continued, your tone gentle but deliberate, “but in the past memories you’ve made with former friends.” each word hung in the air, imbued with sincerity, as though you understood the weight of what you were handing him.

jing yuan’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, his usual relaxed smile softening into something deeper. there was an unspoken gratitude in his gaze as his lips curved into a warm smile — a gesture not just of politeness but genuine appreciation. with a quiet chuckle, he turned his attention to the gift in his hands, his fingers brushing against the edges of the wrapping as though the act of opening it was a sacred ritual.

with deliberate care, jing yuan unwraps the package from it's concealing wrapping, his golden eyes widening as the picture of the painting came into view; it was as a breathtaking depiction of five figures standing tall in their past prime — dan feng, yingxing, baiheng, jingliu, and himself surrounded around a table; their youthful faces radiated determination, camaraderie, and the boundless potential of a time long past.

his grip tightened on the edges of the frame as a lump rose in his throat. memories, sharp and vivid, flooded back to him; he could almost hear baiheng’s infectious laughter, feel the weight of jingliu’s gaze as she imparted wisdom, and sense the unspoken bond that had tethered them all together before time and fate unraveled it and separated their once oh-so close bond with one another.

you tilted your head, a subtle arch in your brow as you studied him closely, catching the faint tremble in his hands as they gripped the painting — the silence stretched for a moment, the weight of his reaction lingering in the air. “well?” you prompted gently, your voice breaking through his reverie.

jing yuan’s lips parted, his breath shaky as he spoke. “you must tell me where you got this done and how,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with emotion. his golden eyes flickered toward you, a raw mix of gratitude and vulnerability pooling within them, “this is the most wonderful and meaningful gift you’ve gotten me. thank you.”

his words were quiet, yet the sincerity in them struck like a chord, reverberating in the space between you both.

you nodded softly at his thanks, your gaze steady as you began to speak. the words came slowly at first, each one carefully chosen as you described the effort it had taken — the long hours spent piecing together the details, to commission an artist who could breathe life into the fragmented memories you had managed to gather.

as you spoke, jing yuan’s focus never wavered while he listened intently to your elaboration. his golden eyes, usually calm and carefree to others, now carried a raw depth of heavy emotion that seemed to grow with every word you shared. his hands still hele onto the painting with a gentle grasp in front of him as though the weight of it grounded him.

the atmosphere around the two of you felt quieter, the distant hum of the festival outside fading into the background. the guarded walls around jing yuan’s heart seemed to crack, allowing the weight of old memories to surface — in the presence of your words, the gift you had given him, and the first time in years; he felt a fragment of that long-lost era had been returned — a bittersweet warmth settling in his chest.

as the first tear slipped down his cheek, which he is quick to wipe it away before somebody had noticed, he allowed himself to embrace both the sorrow and the joy of the moment. the festival outside continued in full swing, but within his chambers, time seemed to pause.

for this christmas, more than any other, the general wasn’t just celebrating with his people — jing yuan was celebrating with the ghosts of his past, brought back to life by the one person who truly understood the depths of his heart.

© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, copy, or feed my written works to ai.

[turquoisemagpie]

Appreciate the little things.

Not to ignorantly deny all of the big bad things in the world, but to survive them.

[spiderman2-99]

Let me assign you an affection language.

A Knife Called Grief You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

[yoinked from iobartach]

[actual-haise]

I miss my wife, Tails

[figothynewton]

Trying to decide if I should reread just the sunshine court or if I should reread the entire aftg series 🧐

[the-way-astray]

i need to clean up the secret project doc before i can start flashback because currently it is the definition of a mess

[chibigalaxies]

Art piece for pride month

[moonpaw]

Fighting DEMONS rn trying not to get invested in one piece to figure out wtf you're posting about!!!!

come here cyber.... we have this thang

‎

[feroluce]

So I went to the wiki page for the henghill Bullet & Brain mission of 2.2 looking for some dialogue I had missed and

a) I found something incredibly tasty that slotted into some other thoughts I'd been having, more on that on another day, and

b) I saw this super fun little trivia at the bottom, which!

I knew Penacony characters like Boothill took a lot of inspirations from old movies, but I didn't realize it was even in his and Dan Heng's relationship, that's so cool!!

It fits them very well, it's such a fun reference. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" was an old buddy Western film (from 1969- nice) about a pair of outlaws. Butch Cassidy was the leader of a gang, and described as clever, affable, and talkative. Meanwhile, his closest companion, the Sundance Kid, was known as a man of few words.

Cassidy's original birth name was much more plain, but similar to Boothill, he took on a new moniker when he became an outlaw. "Cassidy" had been the last name of his beloved mentor, who taught him how to shoot and ride. And Sundance Kid was known as he was because Sundance was the name of his hometown, and it was the only place that had ever managed to catch and jail him, back when he'd been younger (also similar to Dan Heng, but ouch).

These two stick together like glue throughout the length of the film- through Cassidy's leadership of the gang being challenged, through a train robbery gone wrong, through being pursued by mercenaries, and even through fleeing to Bolivia and trying to start over together.

I don't want to say too much more, since the mission title is referencing one specific movie that I've never seen. I kinda wanna watch it now, though, just to see the inspiration that went into Boothill and Dan Heng and how they get along. I just think it's really sweet that these two were literally made to be the best of bros, how lovely is that. 💕

[r0semultiverse]

Eida knows Sarada & Sumire are immune to her abilities.

Whats weird to me is that Eida just doesn't further question that Sarada & Sumire are acting so normal, like I would have never bought Sumire's excuse. NO SHOT!

I think Eida is protecting those two from her clingy little brother.

She has stated before that she wants to have actual friends, but probably knows Daemon would try to kill them potentially if he figures it out (that part isn't so much stated but it's the way he's looking at Sarada & Sumire when he's considering they may not be affected).

He's overprotective, clingy, & overpowered; a terrible combination for her to be around in this case where she would like some actual friends. He's also very eager to fight people!

She 100% went along with Sumire's bullshit excuse to keep those two safe from her brother. She literally pauses for a moment before agreeing with them!

We'll see how good the excuse is when the official translation is out, but I think Eida's playing along so she can have actual friends around her. She knows whats actually going on here, she isn't a fool.

[necrotic-nephilim]

i recently remembered DickTim Week 2024 is happening very soon and i looked at the prompts again to see if i could get anything out for it and. the Hades & Persephone AU prompt for day 1 has got me really thinking so here's a vague concept i plan to write.

i've been pretty burnt out on modern Hades & Persephone retellings because of how they always seem to fall into the same generic "innocent wide-eyed girl runs from her evil mean mother into the arms of a dark mysterious man because actually she went willingly and chose to marry him" which has gotten repetitive for my tastes. (for clarity i don't care if this retelling is your cup of tea personally, so long as you're not actively trying to rewrite the original myth and claim untrue things about it, if this is your favorite flavor i sincerely hope you enjoy the buffet i just have little interest in it since it feels overdone for me and exhausted of it's supposed commentary atp)

but? but. biblically accurate Hades & Persephone AU has me all kinds of interested. because wait listen so hear me out right. Hades!Dick and Persephone!Tim, obviously. i feel it'd be more loosely inspired by with themes and imagery (though playing with death and nature powers could be interesting, i haven't decided) rather than explicitly making them gods and all. but. something dark and fucked up where Dick and Bruce are especially estranged. maybe to do with Jason's return, maybe to do with them just clashing and having their usual explosive arguments. and Bruce knows the peace needs to be kept, if he and Dick are at odds then everyone starts to pick sides and things just fracture so he needs a peace offering.

and the peace offering is Tim.

Bruce (the stand-in for Zeus) offers up Tim. agrees to have Tim move to Bludhaven and be Dick's... whatever Dick wants him to be. knowing that with the implication comes the likelihood of Dick grooming Tim. and Tim has no real say and is hesitant to put up a real fight. he doesn't want this, he knows what this is going to imply Dick will do to him, but he also knows if he says no things have the possibility to just... fall apart. so he's the unwilling bride, dragged off to the metaphorical underworld (Bludhaven) with Dick, away from his family, his friends, the life he built.

and on the flip side, i think weirdly enough, your best pick for the Demeter stand-in is *Jason*. just, hear me out on that. not necessarily on the side of it being motherly, but on Jason being just estranged enough from the Batfamily to be the one willing to call it out for being bad and wrong and raising bloody hell to get Tim back. maybe it's because Jason wants Tim for himself, maybe it's truly out of a concern for Tim to have autonomy, i'm toying with the idea of it primarily being Tim's POV and him genuinely not knowing which of these is true. (and the truth possibly ends up being a complicated middle ground) and because i like Helena, i think you can use her as the Hekate stand in, the one who strikes a tentative alliance with Jason and tries to go find Tim and bring him back. Tim stuck with Dick, getting groomed and hyperaware of it, possibly even getting fucked the whole time as well, knowing he can't go back without causing massive issues for Dick and Bruce because well, Bruce did promise him to Dick. so he has to adjust his whole life, try to figure out being a vigilante in this new city with Dick breathing down his neck the whole time.

and then much like the ending of the myth, a sort of compromise is struck that's a shaky deal for everyone involved. Tim is put on an essential timeshare, going back and forth between Gotham, where he has friends and family and a support system, then getting dragged right back to Bludhaven with Dick in this brutal cycle that he slowly gets used to and stockholm'd into even liking it. Dick isn't so bad, once he gets used to the quirks of their unbalanced 'relationship'. the sex is even something he can adjust to as well. not quite a happy ending but one that sits in this realistic grey area that becomes Tim's life.

i will write this, eventually, but i don't know if i'll get to it before DickTim Week ends so by posting the idea i'm essentially putting it out into the world so the peer pressure holds me accountable. i just. really like the potential of making Hades/Persephone AUs as fucked up as they can be simply by adhering to the source material and making it a raw story of being stolen away and forced to like this new home you didn't ask for.

also a less fleshed-out aspect of this idea i have ties into Persephone becoming the Queen of the Underworld when she's taken and how the transition from Kore to Persephone could be reflected in Tim. how he makes the best of the worst situation and becomes something far more dangerous and dark when he's in Bludhaven, possibly takes on a new vigilante name/identity and leans into the worst quirks of his personality he tries to tamper because there's no point in not going full tilt Obsessively Weird if he has no choice anyway and it being one small way he takes back his autonomy, and that inevitably making Dick *more* into him, because he gets to see Tim finally just. let loose.

[kaye-go-moo]

Shapes and Strange Ciphers AU: Need a hand? Pt. 2

SaSC by me

Shapes and Pines by @/void-dude

Next Part

Jheselbraum, on the rare occasions she saw Bill in town, noticed his behavior gradually becoming increasingly strange over the span of a few weeks. At first, his movements were clumsy and awkward, stumbling through the streets like a child learning to walk. She initially assumed he was drunk, but as time passed, it became clear something else was wrong. His walk became more refined, but completely different from his usual stride—his head held high, his steps confident, and his hands clasped neatly behind his back. However, this wasn't nearly as disturbing as his newfound hostility towards others. Bill, who had always been somewhat stand-offish but never rude, acted arrogant, treating those around him as if they were beneath him. 

Bill also appeared disheveled; his hair was long and tangled, his clothes dirty, and his face gaunt. There was also something off with his eyes. Jheselbraum couldn't place it, but they just looked wrong—dark and empty, like something had crawled inside of Bill's skin and was poorly imitating him. Jheselbraum was filled with a growing sense of unease, the feeling in her gut that had kept her in gravity falls returned, leading her to pay Bill a visit.

-

When she entered his house, Jheselbraum was taken aback by its state. The place was a wreck—papers strewn everywhere, cobwebs draped over the furniture, and dust filled the air. Is Bill really living here?

She called out his name, but there was no response. She ventured down into the basement and found him working on the portal. He looked awful. With his long hair tied into a messy ponytail, revealing his condition was far worse than Jheselbraum had initially believed, "Bill?"

Bill jumped and looked up in surprise, “J-Jhesel? What are you doing here?”

"I was worried. About you." Her gaze lingered, examining his decrypate from, her face a mix of shock and concern.

Bill’s expression darkened as he turned to continue his work., “Im fine. You can leave now.”

"Fine? You call this fine?” Her anger surged, “Bill, what the hell is going on with you?" 

For once, Jheselbraum didn’t hold back. Normally, she would leave in quiet frustration, wanting to avoid confrontation, but not this time. She had reached her limit. If escalating was the only way to get Bill to listen, then so be it.

She unleashed everything—her concerns and frustration from the last year, picking apart his every action. She questioned his sanity, asking if he was having a mental crisis. She tore him to pieces before threatening to contact his family, “Is that what it will to get you to pull your head out of your ass?”. However, this only managed to anger Bill and send him over the edge.

Bill had been frozen in stunned silence, but the mention of his family caused him to snap. His face contortinf with rage as he yelled, “Leave them out of this!”

He unleashed a barrage of cutting insults, using her insecurities and regrets as amunition. In his rage, he grabbed a nearby tool and flung it at her.

It missed, bouncing off the wall behind her and clattering to the floor. Jheselbraum stood in shock, face pale and eyes wide. She stumbled back, turned, and bolted up the stairs, fleeing the house and driving away.

Bill sat there, paralyzed, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. He wanted to chase after her, but his legs wouldn’t move. Minutes passed before he managed to stumbled to his feet and up the upstairs. The front door was open, left ajar by Jheselbraum. He reached outt, his hand hovered over the doorknob. I should apologize.

“You should stay here,” Bill shifted his attention to Ford. “Things will only escalate if you go after her.”

Bill, deflated, slowly closing the door. He stood in silence, staring blankly at the knob, fog clouding his mind. “You should rest.” Ford glided in front of Bill, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Bill silently obeyed, numbly turning and walking to his bedroom. He slumped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he feel fast sleep, unaware of what Ford did while he rested.

When he woke, he back in the basement, a sticky note left by Ford sitting in front of him: ‘There's nothing to worry about. The problem is solved. Continue fulfilling your legacy.’

A pit formed in Bill’s stomach and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, let out a shaky breath. Rising to his feet, he turned back to the portal, but a chilling anxiety brewed in his chest as he forced himself to continue working.

-

A week had passed with Bill tirelessly working on the Portal and Ford taking over his body at night. But eventually, something clicked in Bill's mind. Why wasn’t anyone banging down the front door? Why hadn’t anyone called? Knowing Jheselbraum, she would’ve definitely told his family about their fight. So why was no one there?

A cold shiver ran down his spine as Ford’s words flashed in his mind ‘the problem is solved’. What did that mean? Bill thought back, remembering all of his doubts, doubts he had kept hidden—doubts Ford had somehow known. Ford knew exactly what to tell Bill to keep his fears down. To keep him down. Something wasn’t right.

Unable to shake the feeling, Bill raced out of the house and into town. Heading towards Jheselbraum's apartment, he spotted her wandering the streets. Relief washed over him as he ran up to her and began apologizing, stopping when he noticed her confused and worried expression.

"Do I know you?"

Bill’s heart sank. His face paled as he looked her over. She was wearing the same clothes from when he last saw her, but no coat or shoes—in the middle of winter. He quickly wrapped his jacket around her, ushering her towards his car and out of the cold. But she recoiled in fear, wriggling out of Bill’s grasp before running away.

He tried to chase after her, but his exhaustion slowed him to a wheezing crawl. Bill spent the rest of the day searching, but the cold forced him to stop. Desperation pushed him to ask the police for help, but all they could offer was a vague promise to “keep an eye out.”

Bill had no choice but to return home. He needed to call the Jheselbraums family and tell them. Tell them... what exactly? That their daughter had gone mad? That she lost her mind and was now wondering underdressed through the cold? Thinking about it, he realized he didn't even remember their numbers. He couldn’t remember anyone's number. Bill never could, always having to rely on an old notebook with the everyones contact information listed.

Bill frantically searched the house, but the notebook was gone. Even his phone had disappeared.His breath quickened, becoming ragged, as the world collapsed in on him. Nothing was where it should, no one was acting how they should be. Nothing was right and he had no one—not his friend or his family. He was alone.

Bill crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap before waking to a familiar cosmos. Ford hovered above him, trying to explain away all of Bill’s doubts.

Bill stayed quiet, listening to Ford try and rationalize what Bill saw. Then Ford paused, seemingly interrupted by a silent voice. He looked down at Bill, examining him with a narrowed eye.

"I want the truth." Bill's voice was cold, his eye fixed on Ford.

Ford sighed with annoyance, looking at Bill with disappointment. "I'll give you this one chance, Cipher."

With a snap, the dream unraveled, and Bill was bombarded with flashes of creatures and places he had never seen before, inventions he could never dream of creating.

"This will all be ours, my protégé.” Ford gestured towards the images, “Anything we desire. Everything we deserve."

Bill's head was spinning. Overwhelmed, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, "No! I asked for the truth, Stanford! Give me the truth!"

Ford's eye darkened, and a flash of red anger painted his shape. He closed his eye, recollecting himself before he raised his hand, fingers bracing against each other. His eye reopened, staring at Bill with a cold indifference.

"To think I would've let you join me."

Snap

-

Ford took control of Bill's body, forcing it up from the floor and over to the basement door. First, he changed the doors passcode before heading down to the lab. There, he grabbed one of his secret side projects: a pin lock, which he installed on the closet door. Afterwards, he turned his attention to the portal, picking up where Bill had left off. He worked until Bill’s body reached its limit, its hand’s trembling too much to use. Finally, Ford locked himself in the closet. Now, Bill was trapped—only able to leave when Ford possessed his body.

-

Ford continued working on the portal, knowing it would be complete in a few more days. However, Bill didn't make it easy. When awake, he tried breaking down the door, leaving his body too exhausted for Ford to use, delaying the portal's completion. Bill’s continued escape efforts lead him to work his frail body past its limits. In a desperate attempt to slow Ford's progress, he restored to hurting himself. Forcing Ford to work with broken bones and trembling limbs. Ford tried reasoning with Bill—through flattery or insult—doing everything he could to break him down. But Bill held strong.

After a few days, Bill finally managed to break down the door and weakly climb upstairs, only to be met with another lock installed by Ford. In that moment, Bill nearly gave up. His body was wrecked, the pain being the only thing keeping him conscious. Ford tried encouraging Bill’s weakness, insisting his actions were pointless. But Bill fought off his desire to quit and steeled his resolve. 

He tried kicking down the metal door, but his legs were too weak. Taking a moment to assess his surroundings, he realized he could just break through the wooden wall instead. With renewed determination, he shuffled back down to the lab and grabbed his tools. He spent hours tearing at the the wall, all while enduring Ford’s manipulation. Eventually he broke through.

Bill raced to the front door, only to be halted by a raging blizzard. It was too risky to push through the snow—he could die of hypothermia or pass out, giving Ford to the chance to regain control or manipulate someone else into finishing the portal. He had no choice but to find a solution inside the house.

Bill frantically searched for something—anything—that might help him deal with Ford. It was a feverish attempt made more difficult as night fell. Ford had taken the time to remove every light bulb in the house, leaving Bill in the dark and forcing him to return to the basement. There he found a busted old torch that he used to light his way.

During his search, he came across an old photo of him with his friends. A heavy pit formed in his stomach as he stared at the picture, a reminder of forgotten memories and broken friendships. Before he could dwell on it for too long, another photo caught his eye.

In it, a younger Bill smiled proudly as he held up a first-place prize from a science contest. Beside him stood someone he hadn't seen in almost a decade—his old babysitter, first friend, and big brother, Tad. Tears welled up in Bill’s eyes as he realized just how much he missed Tad. How much he’s needed him—now more than ever.

Suddenly, an idea grounded him. Bill jumped to his feet, rifling through drawers until he found an unfinished postcard addressed to Tad. “What good will that do?” Fords voice cut through Bills thoughts “He abandoned you, Cipher. What makes you think he’ll come back?” Bill paused. Ford was right. And even if he wasn’t, who was Bill to ask Tad to travel all the way to Gravity Falls just to help him? They hadn’t spoken in years. Did Tad even remember Bill existed?

Taking a deep breath, Bill steadied himself. I won’t know unless I send it. He wrote “PLEASE COME!” followed by his home address. Once the blizzard died down, he bundled up and made his way into the woods, placing the letter in an old, rusted mailbox. He lifted the flag and left, hoping—praying—Tad would receive it.

-

While waiting for Tad, Bill loaded up on caffeine and energy medication, trying to stay awake for as long as possible. He couldn't risk Ford taking over his body and locking himself somewhere he couldn't escape. Bill continued his search for something against Ford, but he couldn’t find his journals. He nearly tore the house apart, but there was nothing—Ford had either hidden or destroyed them. Defeated, Bill shifted his focus to dismantling the portal.

It was far from an easy task. Bill's body was weak from a lack of food and sleep, and with his journals gone, he had to rely on scattered notes and his foggy memory. He gathered what he could find, but between Ford’s constant badgering and Bill's sleep deprivation, it was hard to focus. Things only got worse when he started to have hallucinations—or what he convinced himself were hallucinations.

Every bump and creak sent Bill into panic, scrambling to find its cause. The only way he could get any work done was by tricking himself into thinking everything was fine. As long as he saw Ford, he was safe, his presence brought Bill a strange sense comfort. He could keep and eye on him and didn’t have to be completely alone—though its debatable if being alone would’ve be better than hanging out with your captor.

One night, after ignoring a series of thumps upstairs, Bill was startled by the sound of breaking glass. He looked around and realized Ford was gone. He’d been so focused on the portal that Bill didn’t notice his absence. Grabbing a long metal pipe, he raced upstairs, slowing as he neared the source of the noise. He was chilled to see a decaying body crawling through the broken window, its eye glowing a golden hue.

"Stop with these games, Cipher." The corpse’s voice was raspy, its words disturbingly familiar. Ford. "I gave you the opportunity to do one worthwhile thing in your pathetic life, and you wasted it."

Bill froze, trembling as the corspe staggered to its feet. "This is your last chance."

A bloody hand reached out toward him. Bill's grip on the pipe tightened.

"Cipher, my protégé, don't—"

Before Ford could finish, Bill swung the pipe down onto the hand, then back at Ford’s face, landing with a sickening crack. The corpse slammed into the ground. Bill stood panting, waiting for Ford to get back up, but the body lay still. Shining his flashlight into the dead man's eyes, Bill saw no glow—the pupils small and unreactive.

Bill dragged the body outside. It took him a while, but eventually, he managed to lay it beside the back porch. He stumbled back inside and returned to the basement. He tried dismantling the portal, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. Shaking so violently he could barley hold a tool without dropping it. He told himself that he was just the cold, but even after an hour of sitting in the warm basement, his hands pressed tightly against his chest, the trembling wouldn’t stop. And then came the tears.

-

At one point, Bill toyed with the idea of blowing up the house. It would be the quickest solution and would set Ford back significantly. The idea intrigued him, but the intrusive thought of being inside when it exploded quickly snuffed out the plan. Besides, it was only a temporary fix. Bill needed something permanent. And then there was Tad. If he comes—when he comes— how would he feel, finding nothing but the ashes of Bill’s homes?

-----

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