#anywho this is all by memory so there may be more

[tabl3]

the official almost kicked rocks™ tracker

Kaz: 8

Chase: 13 💀

Skylar: 7

Oliver: 6

Bree: 7

damn it wasn't even a competition 😭😭

[sugar-gumdrop]

Kenma Kozume x Reader

Kenma chuckled under his breath when he heard the familiar sound of someone ramming against his locked bedroom door.

“Open up, it’s me!” Your voice, muffled by the layer of wood between you two, called out to him in agitation.

He took his time getting up, gradually sliding his chair away from the desk before spinning around.

“Hold on, I’m coming.” Your persistent knocks didn’t deter him from a leisurely pace. By the time he had crossed the room, you had grown silent on the other side.

Knowing better, the boy quickly scurried away from the door after unlocking it, expecting you to come flying in as you always do.

But nothing happened.

“You still out there?” he questioned, wary you may be plotting something.

“Yes, I am!” you huffed. “But my arms are full, so can you open it, please?”

He approached the danger zone once more, accepting the possibility of getting the door slammed into his face when it opened. For good measure, he only nudged it open a crack to peer out.

Standing in the hallway was you, a large box in your hands.

“Here,” you declared, shoving forward the box as he opened the door further, letting you in. “I came bearing gifts.”

“What’s the occasion?” he asked nonchalantly, though he was internally scouring his memories for anniversary dates, birthdays, or any potential reminders that escaped his attention.

“Nothing in particular, just ‘cause.” You moved past him, dropping the mystery gift on his bed. “Now hurry up and open it! I can’t stay long; in fact, I was initially heading over to the convenience store to grab some stuff for our get-together later before deciding to stop here.”

Even if you were only popping by for a couple of minutes, it still warmed Kenma’s heart that you thought of him.

That you cared enough as his partner to make little moments like this count.

Curling back the cardboard flaps, the butterflies swarming in his stomach vanished. Confusion settled in for only a mere moment before dread consumed his every thought.

“Now I know for a fact you can’t say you don’t like it because everything is in your size and style!” Perhaps because you were in a rush or expectant of gratitude, you fell short of detecting his shaking fingers as he held up the first thing in the box.

His scarf. The same one he lent you a while ago when you had swore up and down you weren’t cold, yet didn’t complain when he wrapped it around you. Even nuzzled your face into its warmth.

“It’s all my clothes…” Kenma glanced your way and was petrified to find out you weren’t even looking in his direction; rather, your body was turned towards the exit.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t keep hoarding them forever,” you murmured, trying to stay upbeat but failing.

You were never this quiet.

Rummaging through the box as if desperate to find some answer to his distress, he pulled out countless hoodies, shirts, and even that pair of sweatpants he lent you to sleep in when you stayed the night.

It was the story of your relationship, all wrapped up tightly in a container that now seemed way too small to Kenma, even though he couldn’t carry it with one hand.

You coughed from behind him, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Anywho, I need to get going. See you later, yeah?!”

You waved goodbye instead of hugging him like you would usually do.

This time, Kenma was the one to reach out first, but you were too far away and already halfway out the door.

“W-wait!”

You paused, swinging your body back to face him as you hung on the doorframe. “What is it?”

“Are you…” He didn’t want to say it. God forbid his assumptions were true. But it was better to spit it out now instead of ruminating on the unknown. “Are you breaking up with me?”

You didn’t say anything.

Instead, you reacted with action, rushing forward to engulf him in an embrace. When you pulled away, you smiled timidly while pushing back his dual-toned hair away from his face.

“Of course not! Why would you think that?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Unless you want to break up with me? If so, I think you should talk to me first-“

You gasped as he buried his head into your shoulder.

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt. “You were the one who started it first, returning all my clothes without warning.”

“Oh, well that’s because…” You trailed off. When Kenma retreated from his comfortable position buried in your shoulder, he found you now gazing at the ceiling. “Don’t make me say it out loud!”

“Say what?”

Now he noticed your fidgety actions and flushed cheeks. You were probably like this the whole time but he failed to notice as he experienced his own turmoil.

“They don’t smell like you anymore, so what’s the point in keeping them when I could give them back to get refreshed?”

Kenma didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity.

You were the one who had to break the silence.

“Forget I said anything. It’s so embarrassing to say out loud-“

Abruptly, you gasped as your vision turned black.

“Just say what’s on your mind next time,” your boyfriend stated. He watched as you fumbled to get the jacket off your head he just threw at you. The same one he had been wearing all morning as he lounged around gaming. “After you put that on we can head to the store together.”

[mydadleft471]

A Jester Indeed: Part 2

Children, I have returned! Glorious day!

I FINALLY wrote Messmer shit again! Yippee! Thank you all for waiting so patiently. I also have over 500 reblogs which is crazy! I'm so happy.

Anywho, here you go. Enjoy your dinner.

Link to part one here!

Link to my Masterlist here!

You’ve been having a fantastic time in the Shadow Keep.

Putting aside the demigod who you may or may not have been annoying for the past few weeks, there’s so much history to delve through. His Storeroom, which you had begged him to let you go into, held a great many mysteries about the Shamans and the Hornsent. The books you’ve been pouring over alongside shambling shades were fascinating; so much so that you often brought them back to your quarters to read until you fell asleep in your very comfy bed.

Messmer, as promised, had your quarters cleaned. The dust was gone practically overnight and you had fresh clothes, sheets, and as much food as you could ever want. Perhaps this was Messmer’s way of thanking you for sparing him?

Speaking of that, he hardly had time for you. When he wasn’t shut away in his quarters, he was out training with his men. You had often watched him work, muscles rippling and his soldiers watching with as rapt attention as you did. He truly was a fearsome warrior.

You got really lucky.

There was one occasion when he came and visited you not long after you were settled in your new home. He had knocked on your door long after the moon had risen into the starry sky, and you welcomed him in. He looked around the room, inspecting it with a scrutinizing gaze. But his anger quickly dissipated once you let him know just how much you loved your time here. You spared no detail, exclaiming about the lovely clothes you were given and how comfortable your bed was.

He looked so pleased.

As you run through your memories of the last few weeks, a discarded book about Hornsent religious practices on your lap, a loud knock sounds at your door. You get up, carefully placing the book on your side table, and make your way over to the door and open it. It was Salza, a longtime friend and confidant of Messmer’s. He was the most agreeable of his high-ranking men in your eyes, as he had no problem walking you through the Storeroom and loading your arms full of books as he regaled stories of old battles. 

“My Lady,” he bows respectfully.

You sigh. “Salza, how many times have I reminded you to just call me by my name?”

“And how many times have I ignored you?”

“You make a fair point.” You gesture into your room, inviting him in. 

He shakes his head. “As much as I would like to continue my stories of my long-lost days of grandeur, Lord Messmer requires you today.”

“Requires me? What am I, a concubine?” You scoff.

Salza opens his mouth to say something, then quickly shuts it, shaking his head. “Would you accompany me? Lord Messmer does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

As you begin to take a step forward, Salza’s arm shoots out and stops you. You shoot him a puzzled look.

“Not like that. Wear something nicer.”

You look down at your clothes, a simple tunic, pants, and boots. Not very fitting for a lady, you say to yourself mockingly.

“Fine, fine. Give me a few minutes.”

“I’ve brought servants with me to help you, my Lady.” A few shades linger behind him in the dim light of a chandelier.

You quickly wave them in and shut the door. They all wander over to your wardrobe and pull out a few dresses that are, of course, all differing shades of red. You pick the one closest to the fiery red of Messmer’s hair, and the servants nod at your choice approvingly. They quickly get to work ridding you of your garments and lacing up your dress. A nice pair of sandals is placed at your feet and you quickly slip them on.

You move to sit at your vanity, which had to be replaced with one that was more your size. It’s made of a beautiful dark red wood, carefully carved with intricate linings of ivory and ebony. The servants flutter about you, two combing your long hair and taming it, and another picking out earrings and a lovely choker with two silver serpents. A light dusting of blush on your cheeks and some crimson is laid carefully on your lips. Looking into the mirror, you appreciate how beautiful you look. Sometimes, you hardly recognize the battle-hardened warrior you were before coming here.

The servants do one final pass over you and decide you look perfect enough after a few sprays of floral perfume that makes you cough and sneeze.

Finally returning to your door and opening it, Salza looks you up and down.

You hold up a hand. “Don’t say it. Just lead.”

He begins to walk and you follow him closely, your dress gently swishing as you move.

“I was merely going to ask you if you think My Lady fits you now.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess it does.” You say wistfully.

Soon, you arrive at the large door to Messmer’s chambers. The last time you stood in front of these heavy doors, you were trying to kill him. The irony is not lost on you.

The guards stationed in front of the door open them wordlessly for you, the metal screeching against the rough stone floors in protest. Salza stands at your side, and as the doors open, you see the chamber is fully lit up. And very occupied.

All of Messmer’s top men are gathered around his large throne, with the man himself perched impatiently on his seat. He flexes and relaxes his fingers as if he’s summoning his spear.

Salza leads the way inside and you follow, hot on his heels as your sandals scrape against the floor. He takes his place at Messmer’s side and positions you next to him, only a man away from his Lord. You don’t notice so much as feel Messmer’s eyes watch your every movement. As you take your place, Messmer gives you a look of approval, a soft gaze that sends your mind reeling.

“My Lord, I believe everyone is here. Shall we begin?” Queelign says.

Fucking simp.

Messmer nods and raises his hand. The doors open again, and a man with dark robes and a hood over his head is escorted inside. He’s moved to the middle of the room when the hood is taken off his face.

You almost pass out on the spot.

It’s Sir Ansbach, a fellow Tarnished serving Miquella the Kind, like Lady Leda. His mask has been taken off and is dropped at his side. He can’t move with two guards at his back and his hands bound.

“Speak thy name, trespasser.” Fire Knight Kood rumbles out.

“I am Sir Ansbach, loyal follower of Lord Mohg, and the last of the Pureblood Knights.” His voice does not waver despite the circumstances.

“A follower of Mohg? Here?” Messmer speaks, and you notice his men straighten even more at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, Lord Messmer. I have nothing to hide, nor have I any reason to disguise my allegiances.”

When Messmer doesn’t speak again, Queelign does so for him.

“Have thee any relation to Miquella the Kind?” God, his voice is annoying.

“Once, perhaps, when my heart was stolen by him as I tried to save my dear Lord. No longer, however, as his charm has broken.”

“How many of Miquella’s followers are in the Realm of Shadow?” Kood inches closer to Ansbach.

“Five that I know of, my Lord. I do not know their whereabouts or if they have been freed from the charm as well. I came here for knowledge, nothing more.”

“Speak their names.” Messmer summons his spear.

“Lady Leda, Moore, Freya, Hornsent, and Dryleaf Dane.”

You knew all of these names, except one. Dane remained a mystery to you.

“Is it the truth that spills from thy lips, or venom, Sir Ansbach? I do not know you.” Messmer’s voice sends a chill down your spine.

“Perhaps not, my Lord, but she does.” He gestures to you.

The room goes silent except for the rapid beating of your own heart. If Messmer considers you a traitor, you don’t have your weapon. You don’t even have your flask. You are sure to lose horribly.

“Speak.” Messmer narrows his eye at you.

You take a deep breath before beginning. “It’s true, Lord Messmer. I know Sir Ansbach, and every word he says is true. I know of these followers of Miquella, except for Dryleaf Dane. He remains unknown to me. But I trust Sir Ansbach. I would ask that you do the same.”

Queelign, unfortunately, butts in before anyone else can speak. “My Lord, how can we be so sure that she is not a follower of Miquella herself? How can we be sure this is not some elaborate plot to infiltrate the Shadow Keep?”

Messmer tenses at his words. You narrow your eyes at Queelign.

“Forgive my harsh words, my Lord, but I don’t give a shit about Miquella. I killed his sister and harbor her Great Rune, for Marika’s sake. I never came here to enact whatever master plan he has; I came here for the adventure. Might I remind you of our first meeting, my Lord?”

“My Lord, she how do we know–”

“Enough. She has spoken.” 

You could kiss Messmer right now.

Queelign, fuming, but not wanting to do anything to disobey his Lord, sulks back to his spot. With a raise of Messmer’s hand, the guards behind Sir Ansbach cut his bindings.

“Thank you, Lord Messmer.” Sir Ansbach bows deeply, as he was more than likely not expecting to get out of this situation alive.

“Do not thank me. If not for my advisor, thy fate would have been decided in this room.” Messmer looks over at you, something you can’t quite place in his eyes.

You mouth a silent thank you to him, and his lip twitches into an almost smile. Cute.

“A pleasure to see you again, Lady Tarnished. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I do this every day.” You joke with a dismissive wave of your hand.

“What does thee know of Miquella’s plan?” Messmer sets the conversation back on track.

“Very little as of now. I came here with the intent on pursuing knowledge so I may know what to do next.” Sir Ansbach replies.

“My Storeroom is open to thee. Pursue to thy heart’s content, but thou wilt harbor no ill will towards my men. Should thee disobey my warning, there will be no mercy.”

“Of course, Lord Messmer. Should I find anything, I will tell you immediately.”

“Salza,” Messmer begins. “Show him to the Storehouse.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

With an audible creak of his bones, he leads Sir Ansbach out of the great chamber. The rest of Messmer’s men stand still awaiting his orders.

“Return to thy posts and sharpen thy blades. A war may be approaching.” His words echo through the room, sending a chill down your spine.

Everyone begins to leave and you go to join them, but Messmer gently grabs your wrist.

“I would have thee stay.”

“Okay. I mean, yes, my Lord.” You curtsy to him.

Once the rest of the guards leave and the large metal doors are shut, Messmer releases your wrist and begins to walk behind his throne. You follow, trying to catch up with him with your much smaller legs, and you notice another large door at the very back of the room. It’s adjacent to the large statue of Marika and partially hidden by deep crimson curtains.

“Come.” He holds the door open for you and you tentatively make your way inside.

With reddening cheeks, you realize that this is his personal chamber. A large bed with red blankets and various furs sits imposingly in the corner, and a few desks and tables litter the room. It is luxurious, but not extravagantly so. You wonder if perhaps he does want you as a concubine.

He clears his throat and you realize he’s waiting for you at a large table covered by a map. As you hurry over, you realize it shows the layout of the Land of Shadow.

“Why have you brought me here, my Lord?”

Something about your flustered face must be funny because he lets out a small chuckle. “I seek your advice.”

“Oh, okay! Because when Salza came to my door and told me I needed to look nice I thought you’d be taking me as a concubine or something like that.” Words rush out of you faster than reason can reign them in, and you find yourself the bringer of an uncomfortable silence.

Messmer’s cheeks flush and his one eye looks around rapidly as long as it doesn’t linger on your form. He places his hands on the table in front of him, and, after some time, he looks down at you with a look.

“Not that I wouldn’t be honored!” You interject quickly. “I just, uh, would like to get to know you better before we did anything like that. But you’re very handsome and… I think I’m going to stop talking.”

It was probably a good thing you did. Messmer looks ready to keel over where he stands from your words. His face is a deeper red than his hair and he opens and closes his mouth rapidly in search of words that never seem to come to him.

Eventually, he gets his mind straight enough to quietly utter a few words. “Thou wouldst consider me handsome?”

“Of course.” You say smiling.

“I am naught but a horrid war-beast.”

“Would you please just take a compliment?!” You all but screech.

“Wouldst thou stop rambling like a child?” He counters.

“You’re impossible. I can’t believe I picked this dress for you!”

Once again, silence encompasses the room. You nervously pick at your cuticles to give yourself something to do.

“Thou lookest radiant. Red becomes you.” He mutters.

“Oh. Thank you.” 

He reaches to take off his helmet, sighing as the weight of it rests on the table beside him. His fair, though a bit messy, frames his face beautifully. You just wish you could tell him that without sending him into a spiral.

“I brought thee here for militaristic purposes, nothing more, I assure thee.”

“Oh. That’s boring.”

“And thou wouldst have me take thee as a concubine instead?” 

Your face flushes for the millionth time today. “No! I mean… maybe? Can we– can we just get back on track? Please?”

“Wouldst thou take a compliment?” He mocks you.

“I should’ve let you tear your eye out.”

He laughs and it makes you shrink even further into yourself. You do have to admit that he is so handsome when he smiles.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your sudden serious tone has his smile falling off his face faster than it arrived. He nods.

“Why did you trust me so much back there? Your men might not like the fact that you’re listening to a Tarnished.”

His gaze hardens. “Thou hast seen many battles rather recently. My men and I have lingered, burning away hastily-formed groups of remaining Hornsent, but we have lingered nonetheless.”

“Is that all?” You push.

He pauses before replying. “I owe thee mine own life. Engaging thy whims is a small price to pay.”

Your heart swells at his words and you place your hand gently over his. His gaze lingers on your small hand and curiosity gets the better of him. He holds your hand and inspects it, noticing a few callouses from battles fought, but overall, your skin is smooth. He feels unworthy of your touch and quickly drops your hand.

Perhaps privy to his internal battle, you move forward and gently wrap your arms around him, his serpents nuzzling into you. He stands so still, almost as if he can’t believe this is real. How long it’s been since he was given a loving touch.

“You’re sweet.” You mutter those words into his armor that’s been splattered with blood more often than it’s been polished.

He takes comfort in the knowledge that you, his strange Tarnished, does not care.

[citricacidprince]

I was looking at your relativity falls au and I was thinking since Ford in the original series takes off Stan’s hat to show his hair, kinda revealing he is Ford, what if in relativity falls Ford takes the glasses off of Stan and puts them on and that is kinda of the moment

Also I really want more protective! Relativity falls Ford, I want to watch that child go feral and start biting people <3

Hiiiii!!! Sorry it took a super long time to reply to this I just,, this possessed me so much I may or may not have written, uh, 7400 words based on this lol (also a drawing but it’s hidden in the writing haha)

There sadly isn’t a lot of feral protective Ford in this, just sad wet cat baby Ford (tho you get a glimpse of it at the very end), but believe me I have many thoughts of protective Ford as they’re teens hehe!!

Like, they’re so fun to be because they’re the opposite of how they are in the show! Stan was the protector and would get into fights for Ford, but as teens Ford is extremely protective of Stan and will throw himself into a fight he know he can’t win in a moments notice because they insulted Stan, even when Stan tries to insist that it’s okay. These two make me siiiiick 💥💥💥💥💥

Anywho, this mini writing this is just a prolonged scene from Weirdmageddon part 3 but with my Relativity Falls AU paint on it lol

It’s filled with an comical amount of tears because I believe Mabel and Dipper are weepy saps and the baby boys haven’t had the ‘Boys don’t cry’ motto drilled into their heads yet, also they’re like, super traumatized atm haha

Well, have fun reading! Please please please please be nice, I know I’m not the best writer and just write when I’m possessed so please be so niceies to me or I’ll fucking cry <33💥💥💥💥

Everything is under the cut! :]

🍃🪦☁️~~~~~~~~~~~~⛈️👓🥀

Mabel and Dipper could only watch on in shock and horror as one of their beloved great nephew erased the mind of their other beloved great nephew. Dipper didn’t even know the boys still had that blasted machine, much less that they still had it on them here of all places!

Maybe it was good that the children had the memory gun hidden away. After all, they just used it to outwit and defeat Cipher.

However… at what cost?

Stanley’s round face was drenched in silent tears as he held the memory gun to the back of his brother’s head, his gaze completely focused but his trembling grip on the memory gun giving away just how much this was affecting him.

Dipper always thought he’d be ecstatic when Bill Cipher was finally defeated. Spit on his face, dance on his grave, give the worst eulogy in the world, the whole shebang. But now that the moment has finally arrived all he can feel is sick to his stomach.

They’re just kids. They shouldn’t be here. His sweet little grand-nephews shouldn’t be paying for his hubris. This should’ve stayed between him and Bill.

It should have been him.

The bright blue light faded and the memory gun hit the ground, Stanley’s hands shaking even worse now as tears fell to the floor, unable to keep his head up as little hiccups fell from his lips.

Dipper was still squeezing Mabel close to his side, the two frozen in their huddled positions on the floor, gut-wrenching guilt on his face while his sister had her hands over his mouth, only able to watch on with dread.

Dipper only faintly registered that the other members of the zodiac had been released from their tapestry prisons. That blonde woman Mabel seemed to like was rubbing her head as that young Hispanic woman who works for Mabel, Anjelita, held out a hand to help her up. That red-headed hairy lumberjack and that one oddly peppy goth teen helped young Fiddleford through his shaky breathing.

After a couple of moments Dipper heard his sister take a deep shaky breath, his voice wet as one of her hands reached out towards Stanley.

“…L-Lee? Lee, baby come here-” There was a weary and wobbly smile on her lips. She was doing that thing where she tries to be the comforting light in an awful situation, even though she is not doing any better than anyone else at the moment.

She was trying to corral her crying great-nephew into her arms, a mixture of trying to comfort him and herself.

She was swiftly cut off by gravity going wonky.

Dark bricks ripped out of the walls and shot up into the rift up in the blood red sky, Weirdmaggedon falling apart at the seams. Creatures of many shapes and sizes flew up into the rift, the older twins gripping each other close as they stared up into the multicolored light. Everyone was staring up into the sky, hope and relief in their hearts that the nightmare might finally be over.

Everyone but Stanley.

He was intensely staring at the back of his brother’s head, silent tears continuously streaming down his cheeks, unable to see the small content smile on Stanford’s face.

As the light began to envelop the town of Gravity Falls, Stanley reached out his hand to his kneeling brother to try and grab onto him but was unable to before the light reached the two, erasing most traces of Weirdmaggedon’s effects and safely displacing everyone in the Fearamid to the ground below.

The woods were quiet. Everything was much quieter than it was during Weirdmageddon.

There was barely a moment of peace before Dipper and Mabel were sprinting through the woods yelling out for their great-nephews, panic increasing with every passing second.

They finally came across the boys in a small clearing after 2 minutes of franticness. Stanley’s back to the older set of twins and Stanford kneeling in the grass.

Mabel ran much faster than Dipper did, practically throwing herself to her knees as she grabbed Stanley and pulled him tight into her arms. She buried him into the crook of her neck, tears beginning to drip down her face as she ran her fingers through his messy brown curls, trying to soothe him while she gently shushed his crying.

“Shhhh… shhh it’s okay Lee it’s okay sweepea, I’m here, Grunkle Mabel is here pumpkin.”

Dipper would’ve chuckled at the use of ‘Grunkle Mabel’, something Stanley insisted on calling her even after she revealed that she wasn’t a man because he thought Grauntie sounded strange, but he couldn’t really feel anything but heart ache right now. He stepped closer to the crying duo, kneeling down next to them as he glanced over towards Stanford.

He still seemed to be unconscious, quiet as a mouse as he kneeled on the grass. He was so still that Dipper almost wanted to check his pulse to make sure his heart was still beating, but the soft breathing coming from his chest eased his worries. Stanford was always so stressed and on edge the entire time Dipper had known him, which in all honesty, wasn't very long. However, in this moment with that small smile on his lips his nephew almost looked peaceful.

Guilt ate at his heart even more.

God he should’ve seen the warning signs that tension was building between the two boys. He’s the catalyst for causing Weirdmageddon by saying he would train Stanford in Gravity Falls while Stanley went home. He should’ve put his foot down and said Stanford was too young and needed to go home at the end of the summer with his brother. But his great nephew was just so insistent and Dipper himself was scrambling to think of an amazing gift for his twin sister for their first birthday together in 30 years, he just caved and said yes.

He’s the reason Stanley ran with that cracked rift. He was the final crack in the already strained relationship between the boys and he was too blind to notice.

He turned to his sister once more, emotions welling in his heart seeing his sister and nephew so upset and clinging to each other. He gingerly rubbed Stanley’s back and Mabel’s shoulder, softly speaking with sorrow dripping from his voice, “Stanley, I am so sorry… words can’t express how much I didn’t want this to happen. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the consequences of my mistakes..” He gingerly tucked a loose curl behind Stanley’s ear, softly adding on with a feeling of shame flooding his head, “…It should’ve been me.”

Mabel’s head immediately shot up at Dipper’s words, a glare on her wet face as she shot back with a low warning tone, “Dipper Lee Pines.” He quickly shut his mouth. Noted, she wasn’t going to take any self depreciation coming from him at the moment. Can’t say he blames her, he would’ve done the same if any self-depreciating words came from her mouth.

Stanley muffled something against Mabel’s neck instantly making the two stop what they were doing to turn to him. “What was that baby?” Mabel gently asked as Dipper continued to rub his back. The young boy pulled himself away from Mabel’s neck ever so slightly, taking in a deep shaky breath as he shakily repeated himself.

“…n-not Lee-”

The older twins' brows furrow, their hands stilling slightly as it was Dipper’s turn to softly question, “What are you talking about Stanley?”

The brunet pulls his trembling form away from Mabel to stand up, wiping his wet face with his arm, his cheeks so flushed from sobbing that his faint freckles were easily seen against the red. He stood still for a moment, trying to calm his breathing before he stepped between the sitting pair of twins and towards his kneeling brother.

He took in the sight of him for a moment, a sick feeling in his stomach as his trembling hands tentatively grab onto the glasses on his unconscious brother’s face, his touch light as a feather and careful, as if he was afraid his brother would shatter if his finger even as so much grazed him. He carefully pulled the glasses off and stared down at them in his hands, a fresh wave of silent tears falling from his cheeks and onto the cracked glass lenses.

“I-I’m… I’m n-not…” He shakily whispers, voice caught in his throat as he tries to get the words out. He gingerly lifted the glasses to his face and placed them onto his red nose, his fingers gripping the temples of the glasses as he hesitantly turned around. His wet brown eyes locked with his kneeling great-uncle and great-aunt, the kid’s gaze drowning in guilt as Stanford hesitantly continued on with his wobbling voice, “…I-I’m not S-Stanley.”

The two froze at those words, Mabel's bewildered gaze kept whipping her gaze between Stanford and Stanley, quickly growing distressed while Dipper felt a deep pit form in his stomach.

He’s so stupid, it should’ve been obvious but in all the chaos he didn’t even think to check. In the moment of peace he finally saw the differences.

The six fingers and the way his eyes squinted without his glasses should’ve been a dead giveaway, but there were also other signs as well.

Stanley had told Dipper not too long ago that his tooth was knocked out the second day the twins showed up. Apparently it was knocked loose when he fell face first into the dirt while fleeing with Stanford from a vampire, after his brother had hid the 3rd journal away from Stanley all day, taking ‘Trust No One’ Dipper had scrambled onto that in a paranoid panic to heart.

Stanford just lost his tooth not even 30 minutes ago. When the boys had begun to argue on the Zodiac Wheel Stanley couldn’t take it anymore and decked Stanford to the ground. Dipper remembers the immediate regret that flashed onto the young boy’s face when his brother spat out a bloody tooth onto the floor, opening his mouth to try and apologize but was unable to get a word out before Stanford quickly punched him back, causing the infamous fight between the two.

Stanford still had some speckles of dried blood on his chin, a reminder of that awful fight.

The two had faint freckles dusting their face but Stanley was the only one who had freckles on his shoulders.

The bandaid on Stanford’s face was falling off, as if it was peeled off and slapped onto his face.

Mabel let out a weak and breathless noise of confusion, brows furrowed and clearly overwhelmed by everything happening in such a short time. “W-Wha-? How-?”

Dipper cut his sister off. She was barely keeping it together as is, and while he was also extremely upset he had a lot of practice suppressing these kinds of emotions to survive in the multiverse. He can take over for a moment just so Mabel can take a moment to breathe.

“Stanford… what happened?” Dipper questioned, a comforting hand on his twin’s shoulder as his furrowed gaze met Stanley’s. Despite how intense he looked, there was a softness in his voice. A quiet plea for his great-nephew to tell him what the hell is going on.

Stanford’s watery eyes stayed locked with the ground, looking almost as overwhelmed and weary as Mabel did while his hands fidgeted against his stomach. “W-When you two started getting c-chased Bill I…” His breathing hitched. “…I didn’t know what to d-do, I was just so s-scared.”

One of his finger’s lifted to his lip as he unconsciously began to chew the skin off the side of it, a habit Mabel has been fighting tooth and nail for Ford to quit through the entire Summer.

Not that she can really bring herself to care at the moment.

Stanford looked increasingly distressed as he continued. “I-I was panicking, I always know w-what to do and I just I couldn’t t-think of anything! I thought my h-head was going to explode when-” He takes in a sharp breath, more tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “…w-when Stanley said he had a plan.”

Stanford was trying to wipe away the thick tears off his face, his cheeks irritated and red from how often he's been rubbing away tears. “E-Everything went so fast. He was explaining the p-plan as fast as he could while we swapped clothes. Said we were going to p-pull off our best con yet. Tricking Bill into S-Stan’s mind by convincing him it was m-mine and then erasing him for g-good.”

“I t-tried to ask why we were d-doing all of this… Stanley could've just erased my mind after I let B-Bill in and e-everything would just end, but Stanley… S-Stanley didn’t budge. He s-said it had to be him. Said I… S-Said I actually had a future.” Ford breathing hiccups, shoulders hiking up to his neck as even more even more tears run down his cheeks and to the grass below. “A-A-And I was j-just so scared I… I let him… I let h-him take my place…”

A choked sob rips from his throat, unable to take it anymore as he covers his face with his polydactyl hands, continuing to explain through the tears and shaky speech. “O-One of the last things I ever d-did was punch h-him in the face! I never t-told him I was s-sorry! He DIED thinking I h-hated him!”

Dipper immediately jumped into action, pushing himself over to Ford and pulling his hands away from his face. He rested his forehead against his great-nephew’s and held onto his smaller hands, keeping his eyes on Stanford’s as he firmly spoke. “Breathe with me Stanford. In and out.”

It took a moment but the kid’s breathing slowed ever so slightly as he tried to mimic Dipper’s breaths though he was still unable to control the hiccuping and sniffling.

“You didn’t kill Stanley.” Dipper continued to speak, his tone softening considerably as he gently squeezed Ford’s polydactyl hand with his larger one. “He’s alive and breathing right behind you.”

The kid began to look frustrated as he lowly choked out, “He might as well be.”

Dipper… couldn’t exactly retort that. By all means Stanley would be a shell of his former self, fundamentally a completely different person when he wakes up. However, he wasn’t going to let his great-nephew wallow like this. He gently squeezed his hands once more and softly questioned, “…Do you really think Stanley would hate you after all of this?”

Stanford froze at the question, only the sound of rustling leaves and birds chirping to be heard as the brunet boy’s eyes stayed locked with Dipper’s before letting it fall to the dirt below. After a couple quiet moments Stanford finally mumbled out. “He should.”

“But would he?”

“….” Ford couldn’t reply, a bittersweet and melancholic feeling flooding his heart.

As if on cue, a faint noise was suddenly made behind the three of them.

Everyone whirled their heads over to where Stanley sat kneeling on the grass. His brown eyes blearily began to open as he raised his hand up to idly rub them. The faint freckles on his cheeks and his brown curls were dusted in the warm light of the sun. A yawn fell from his lips, tiny tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the deep breath, before he finally opened his eyes completely.

His brown eyes blinked away sleep, his gaze slowly darting between the three people also kneeling on the grass in front of him, not saying a word yet, just taking them in.

Dipper and Ford waited with baited breath, words stuck in their throats as they stared back at Stan, trying to find any familiarity in his eyes.

Mabel couldn’t wait a single second longer.

“…S-Stanley? Lee?” She softly questioned, tears beginning to well up in her eyes again as she gingerly crawled closer to him. “H-Hey my little firecracker! You r-remember me right? Your lovable Grunkle Mabel!” Her hands raise up to cup Stanley’s round cheeks, her smile a little wobbly but her brown eyes filled with a ray of hope. “You remember me, d-don’t you pumpkin?”

Stanley just stared blankly at his great-aunt, completely silent for a moment before his brows furrow. He tilts his head, confusion clearly seen in his blank eyes as he bluntly asks, “Who are you?”

Mabel’s heart might as well have shattered into a million pieces. The tears welling up in her eyes freely fall but the wobbly smile refuses to fall. One hand raises to run through his messy curls as the other continues to cup his face. “W-What are you talking about sweetheart? It’s me, Stanley, It’s Mabel.”

Dipper sprung forward and gently began to pull Mabel away from Stanley, that pit in his stomach growing even more as his sister tried to weakly yank herself out of his grasp while crying out, “It’s me, Stanley! It’s me!” He squeezed her in his arms as her cries turned to sobs, burying her face against Dipper’s chest as she finally let out all the pain she’s been keeping in her chest since the moment Weirdmageddon had begun.

“It’s no use Mabel, Stanley doesn’t remember anything.” Dipper softly spoke. He hugged her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, her silver curls brushing against his skin as his brown eyes locked with Stanley. The kid looked so confused and lost, a sight that just made his heart ache even more. “…Stanley doesn’t even realize it, but he just saved the world… Saved us… Our little hero…”

Stanley brows were furrowed, not understanding anything that was going on in the slightest. He glanced over at where Stanford was standing, lifting up his hand to cup his mouth and loudly stage whisper to the brunet, “What’s up with the old guys?”

Stanford didn’t answer, just staring at Stanley with large globs of tears dripping down his cheeks. Without warning he sprinted to his brother, engulfing Stanley in a tight hug and hiding his face in his neck. The impact of the tackle hug almost knocked the two to the floor but Stanley managed to keep himself propped up with one arm, brown eyes wide with shock as even more confusion filled his fuzzy mind. “W-Woah, okay-! We’re hugging now, I guess!”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry-” Stanford kept repeating those words over and over against his brother’s neck, his body trembling from just how hard he was crying.

Stanley had no clue what the hell was happening. He was in a place he’s never seen before, surrounded by strangers sobbing their eyes out, and he was realizing that he couldn’t really remember what his name was again. A part of him was telling him he should just book it, get away from these weirdos, but something in him refused to let him.

Maybe it was because they all genuinely looked so sad. He didn’t know who they were but his heart sorta ached at their grief-stricken appearances, kind of wanting to comfort them in some way.

Maybe he’s a bleeding heart, he can’t really remember if he is.

Stanley shuffled a little in Stanford’s tight grasp until finally something kinda heavy was laid onto the sobbing child’s shoulders. Stanford tentatively lifted his wet face from his brother’s neck to peer behind him.

It was his leather bomber jacket. Stanley had subtlety slipped off the jacket, careful not to jostle the crying kid too much, then plopped it onto his shoulders.

“You looked like you needed it more than me.” Stanley spoke, an awkward but kind smile on his face. He then quickly shrugged it off and added on with a casual tone, “Besides, I was gettin’ warm in that thing, you can just keep it.”

Stanford sharply inhaled at those words, polydactyl hands letting go of Stanley to grip at the jacket draped over his shoulders and pull it even closer, acting as if it was a barrier that could protect him from the world around him. A choking sob ripped from Stanford’s throat, hiding his face against his brother’s neck once again.

“Okay! We’re still crying!” Stanley awkwardly sputtered out, tensing up as the brunet continued to cry against his neck, unsure of what he should be doing. Eventually he settled on tentatively patting the crying kid’s back, hoping that he was actually comforting the kid and not making whatever was happening worse.

“I s-shouldn’t have pushed you a-away because I was t-told to! You w-were never a burden! I-I don’t hate you! I n-never did!” Stanford kept crying apologizes against Stanley’s shoulder, making the already confused brunet boy even more lost with every word spoken. His hand continued to pat on Ford’s back as he softly replied, his words tentative and unsure, “…I don’t hate you either.”

“Yes you do.” Stanford thickly replied against his brother's shoulder, completely and utterly convinced in his distraught state that his brother would absolutely hate him if he could remember what Ford did to him.

Stanley couldn’t exactly reply to that because he genuinely didn’t know if he did hate this kid. He didn’t even know who he was. So instead of responding he just continued to rub the brunet’s back, hoping to ease the hyperventilation sobs buried against his skin.

It took a handful of long moments filled with silence and tears for the three to compose themselves, Dipper being the first to finally stand up.

“…We’ve been wallowing here long enough, people are going to get worried.”

Dipper gingerly pulls Mabel to her feet, tears had stopped falling from her face but her cheeks red and her famous smile no longer present. He made sure his sister was steady on her feet before holding out his hand to the twin boys huddled together on the ground, a small weary smile on his wrinkled face.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

The twins pull themselves up with Dipper’s help. Once on their feet Ford latches onto Stan’s arm, sticking to his side and refusing to let go. Stanley doesn’t seem to mind or even notice the clinging presence as his brown eyes look up at the sky and over the tall trees with curious wonder.

Dipper softly sighed and eyed over the fascinated brunet looking over the tree line with concern, “Are your muscles alright, Stanley? No issues with walking or standing?”

The kid didn’t respond for a moment, still looking around before he finally registered that he was being spoken to. His brown eyes darted around before he pointed at himself with his free hand. “Oh! Am I Stanley?”

Dipper felt a stab in his chest at the question, but still gently replied, “Yeah… you’re Stanley.”

Stanley nodded at the confirmation and softly said ‘Staaaanley’ under his breath, getting accustomed to the unfamiliar name.

“Stanley… cool name! I like it!” He cheerfully replied, a wide smile spreading across his face that showed off his missing tooth. “And my legs are fine, I think.” He used his free hand to grab onto Dipper’s hand and loudly added on, “Now lead the way, old man!”

Dipper sighed and squeezed onto Stanley’s hand, gently guiding him through the woods back to the Shack, never forgetting the route home even after all these years.

The twins were parallels of each other as they walked. Mabel was clinging onto her brother’s arm and leaning her head against his shoulder while Stanford was doing the same with his brother. The air was so tense and gloomy around the four, affecting all but Stanley.

Stanley was looking around the woods as they walked, his brown eyes full of innocent wonder as he mumbled under his breath about ‘Never seeing trees this big’.

When they made it back to the Shack Dipper could only wince at the state it was in. It was falling apart and damaged from the battle during Weirdmageddon, the damage unable to be reversed even after the apocalypse had ended.

“The Shack…” Mabel sadly lamented under her breath, the sight of the place she spent 30 years making into a home and business just adding onto her already overwhelming amount of sadness.

Dipper was about to try and comfort her when he noticed 3 figures standing in front of the shack. After a moment the three started to sprint towards the family, frames becoming clearer as they got closer.

It was Anjelita, Boyish Dan, and Fiddleford.

“Are you guys alright?!” Boyish Dan loudly asked with his booming voice before he even reached the family. Anjelita was silently but swiftly following behind him, her hand gripping her Abuelo’s cap so it wouldn't fly off her head and her eyes filled with concern. Fiddleford was tripping over his feet from how fast he was sprinting, Dipper was mildly concerned the accident prone teen was going to trip over a branch or rock and slam face first against the ground.

He didn’t trip, thankfully. The small blond teen stumbled to a stop in front of the family, specifically the younger set of twins, panting heavily. “Thank the lord y’all are alright! I thought y'all had gotten trapped under somethin’ or hurt or worse!” Fiddleford anxiously rambled on, clearly having thrown himself into a tizzy over his friend's safety.

Stanley’s brows furrowed at the new faces, especially the long nosed southern one right in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and looked over the blond with an untrusting gaze. “…You’re not going to hug me and cry too, are you?”

Fiddleford looked bewildered at the question, blinking in confusion as he asked, “Now why on’ earth would I do that?”

Before Stanley or someone else in the family could reply, Anjelita spoke up from beside Boyish Dan. “His memory was erased, correct?”

The family, minus Stanley, flinched at the question.

Anjelita was a very observant young lady, so it makes sense she would be the first to notice.

Fiddleford and Boyish Dan kinda tensed up at the question. They also saw what happened while they were trapped in the tapestries, but they had hoped that maybe…

“That really stuck? He doesn’t remember anything?” Boyish Dan questioned.

“Nothin’ at all?” Fiddleford softly added.

Dipper wordless shook his head and a solemn silence covered them all.

The three followed the family into the dilapidated Mystery Shack, everyone looking over the cracks and debris with melancholy and sadness on their faces. Well, all but Stanley.

Stanley excitedly jumped up as they all entered the run down living room. “Wow, nice place you have here!” The brunet ripped away from Stanford and Dipper’s grasp, the suddenness making Stanford weakly try and latch back onto his brother for just a moment before giving up and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The boy then ran full speed at the dusty recliner. Stan always loved that chair would steal it from Mabel whenever he had a chance.

He jumped onto the seat and laughed as he bounced a little before settling down. “Lovin’ this chair! I just sink into this thing!”

He opened his brown eyes and saw everyone standing at the edges of the room, the miserable air of sadness weighing so heavy on the room he could feel it pressing against his skull. Stanley limply leaned back in the chair, a faint look of annoyance on his face as he bluntly questioned, “Geez, am I at a funeral? Who died and turned you all into sad sacks.”

No one answered.

Fiddleford turned to the group, going to lift his finger to bite on it only to stop himself when he realized he was doing it. Instead the blond lifted up his chewlery necklace and began to bite on it instead, his nerves shot as he desperately asked, “Surely there must be ah’ way to reverse this!”

“No, there isn’t.” Stanford replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor, looking extremely tired and downright miserable as he hugged his jacket closer.

Fiddleford whips around to Stanford, exasperation and agitation clear on his face as he yells back, “There's gotta’ be!”

Dipper softly sighed, defeat dripping from his voice as he gently replied. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford. There isn’t anything we can do for Stanley. No one can come back from something like this.”

Anjelita perks up from the besides Boyish Dan, counteracting Dipper’s statement with a simple, “Miss Candy.”

“W-What?” Dipper questioned, blinking up at her in confusion.

The large red-headed teen jolted and jumped up at the reminder.

“That’s right! Kooky Candy got her memories back during that whole weird secret society adventure!”

Fiddleford looked up at Dipper with hope and desperation in his green eyes, hands trembling from the reminder of that awful day and his shot nerves. “Y-Yeah! An’ Miss Candy’s mind was cracked ‘cause of tha’ memory gun!”

The blond points to Stanley sitting on the recliner, the confused brunet just staring at the group with furrowed brows, not taking in anything that they’re saying. “Lee still gotta’ chance!”

Dipper is quiet for a moment, brain running a mile a minute. When he finally speaks up again his voice is low and unsure.

“… I’m not going to say it's going to work,”

His eyes meet his sister’s, her sad brown eyes filled with a glimmer of hope at the thought of being able to save her little firecracker.

“But I’m not going to say it’s impossible either.”

He racked his brain once more, trying to think of a solution, an answer that has a high probability of working.

“…Maybe if we had something that could jog his memory-”

Mabel suddenly gasped, eyes wide as she squeezes Dipper’s arm, her grip tight. “My scrapbook!”

She then quickly rushes to a desk near the table, glitter and shimmering pieces of paper fluttering out as her hands rummaged in one of the drawers. She let out a loud ‘Aha!’ And pulled out a pink and very sparkly scrapbook.

“It’s not going to work.” Stanford bluntly mumbled, defeat and sorrow clinging to his small frames.

“Not with that attitude!” The old woman quickly shoots back, not letting anything snuff out her freshly burning glimmer of hope in her chest.

She quickly ran back over to Stanley, the rest of the group, minus Stanford, following suit. She placed the glimmering book onto the confused child’s lap, the front labeled ‘Summer of 2012’ in sparkly glitter pen.

“I’ve been working on this book since the day you two arrived!” Mabel offhandedly explained while opening it to the first page. Pasted in the middle of that page was a cute photo of Stanley and Stanford unpacking their bags. Stan was making a silly face at the camera while Ford had not realized the photo was being taken, too busy hanging up his Nikola Tesla poster with a concentrated face. Stickers and other miscellaneous crafting objects were glued to the page. “Here’s the first day you two arrived!” She then pointed at about 4 to 6 small pieces of wood taped to the page. “And those are the splinters you got stuck in your hand when trying to unpack!”

Stanley furrowed his brow at that, very confused on why she would keep something like that but not having a chance to ask before she pointed to the next thing.

The next photo on the page was Stanford and Stanley looking a tiny bit scratched up and tired. Ford was looking away from the camera and into the inner pocket of his jacket, excitement shining in his eyes as he stared at the journal he had found in the woods that day that was poking out of his jacket ever so slightly. Stanley was also excited but for a very different reason. His eyes were wide with excitement, his equally wide smile showing off the space in his teeth where his tooth was knocked out. The missing tooth was being held very close to the camera, still covered in small flecks of blood.

“And here’s you losing your tooth the very next day!”

Next to the photo was also a small tooth taped onto the paper, assumedly Stanley’s baby tooth that was knocked out. He especially wanted to ask why she had scrapbooked that but was once again cut off, no one except him finding this old woman strange in the slightest.

Fiddleford had leaned over and flipped the page. On the page was a photo of Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford all huddled together on one of the boy’s beds, all of them wearing pajamas. Stanford and Stanley seemed to both be talking at the same time, talking over each other while Fiddleford looked a little nervous and overwhelmed, but a smile very clearly seen on his face as he was squished between the twins.

“Tha’s the first time I spent tha’ night after we ‘came friends! After I, uh, ya’ know, tried to kill ya’ with a giant robit-”

Boyish Dan pointed at the next page. The twins were wearing 70s themed dancing clothes, disco lights shining on the two as they stood alone on a dance floor. The boys were covered in punch but still smiling while sideways hugging. Stanford in particular looked a little tired and had a bruise or two.

“Your guy’s 13th birthday party? A bunch of power hungry Ford clones causing so much trouble we pulled the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers?

He then pointed at two carnival tickets taped onto the page next to a photo of Boyish Dan’s grappling both of the twins under his arms and lifting them high into the air, standing in front of a carnival as the warm afternoon light washed over them. Dan was laughing maniacally while Ford looked shocked, grabbing onto Dan’s large arm looking at the ground nervously, as if he was afraid of being dropped. Stanley also looked shocked but not in the same way Stanford did. Stan’s face was bright red and he looked like he was trying to laugh off being picked up so suddenly.

“How about the carnival? You tried that ‘test your strength’ game while Ford did that ‘guess how many jellybeans are in this jar’ game and both failed at them?”

Anjelita softly spoke up next to Boyish Dan as he turned the page. A picture of Stanley all dressed up was pasted onto the page. He was wearing a black suit, a red fez with the same symbol that’s on his sweater Mabel made him, an eye patch, and an 8-Ball cane. He had his eye patch flipped up and was winking at the camera, fully showing off his showman persona. Next to that photo was another one, this time depicting Stanley and Stanford sitting in a booth with Anjelita and her grandparents. Stanley and Anjelita’s Abuelo, Soos, were scarfing down a pizza slice as fast as they could, assumedly in a race to see who could eat it faster. Stanford was looking at his brother with mild disgust and concern while Anjelita’s Abuela, Melody, was excitedly cheering on her husband. Anjelita was sitting at the table leaning her chin on her hand, a soft amused smile on her lips.

“The time you were the boss of the Mystery Shack for a day? The arcade with the killer robots?”

Dipper had his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, carefully questioning, “Is any of this ringing a bell? Anything at all?”

Everyone, minus Stanford, were crowding Stanley, all in his personal space and making the dazed child even more confused. On edge and gripping the scrapbook tightly, furrowed brown eyes completely void of familiarity as he looked over the group.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stanley began, quickly looking down as he slammed the scrapbook closed. “But none of this is making any sense to me! You keep talking to me like I know who you are, but I don’t!”

The hope in the group died at Stanley’s outburst, all of their enthusiasm fading and disappearing entirely in record time.

“Told you.” Stanford softly mumbled from the other side of the room, despondent and hugging himself tight while leaning against the wall, utter exhaustion seeping into his bones.

Stanley shifted uncomfortably in the recliner, that bubbling sense of guilt building in his stomach and his chest once again at the sight. He doesn’t even know these people but he doesn’t want to see them upset. Guess he really is a bleeding heart. He’s learning something new about himself every second.

The brunet sighed, idly rubbing his round cheeks as he quietly added on, his voice much softer than before, “Look… I’m sorry I don’t remember… I really am…”

“It’s alright Stanley, it’s not your fault.” Dipper gently replied, unaware of the way Stanford flinched at those words behind him.

There was a depressing and strained silence hanging over the group afterwards, no one really knowing what else to say after their hopeful attempt was proven to be pointless.

Then all of a sudden hot air and a snorting noise tickled Stanley’s left ear.

The kid whirled his head at the noise only to come face to face with a big old pig with a collar around its neck, along with a name tag that Stanley couldn’t read from where he was sitting. The two just stare at each other for a couple seconds, blank stare to blank stare, until it was finally broken by the pig hopping up and getting closer to Stanley, trying to chew on his brown curls.

Stanley squealed with surprise and tried to push the massive pig away, Mabel weakly laughing on her knees at the antics, her mind flashing to all the times Waddles has lovingly bothered her great-nephew the entire time he’s been here. She was about to tell her beloved pet to stop messing with Stanley when the kid beat her to the punch.

“Augh! Waddles! How many times have I told you to stop trying to eat my hair!”

Everyone froze, even Stanford’s head whirled over at Stanley’s words.

“…What did he say?” Ford asked, his voice laced in disbelief.

Stanford initially didn’t want to think there was a chance for Stanley to remember, figuring that this was going to be his punishment. Forever mourning someone who’s not even dead, someone he all but killed. But when Stanley spoke Waddles name, something he shouldn’t remember, felt that little ball of hope he’s been trying so hard to suppress in his chest reemerge.

Now Waddles was trying to lick Stanley’s cheek, making the boy squeal even more.

“I said get Waddles off me, Sixer!”

A small breathless laugh left Dipper’s throat as ran his hands through his silver curls, a hopeful disbelief in his eyes. “…It’s working.”

Stanford suddenly sprinted up to the group, grabbing onto his Great-Aunt’s arm from where she’s kneeling in front of Stanley and holding her scrapbook. “Keep reading, Grauntie Mabel.” His gaze serious, but his voice a soft plea.

Mabel had to quickly blink a couple times and bring herself back to reality, adrenaline beginning to pump in her veins at the prospect that this was working. She jumped to her feet, not even wavering as her knees creaked at the sudden movement, and called out to everyone in the room, “Story time!”

She grabbed onto Stanley, that classic Mabel smile was back on her face as she easily lifted him up and sat down where he was sitting on the recliner, pulling the frazzled boy onto her lap. She reached out and yanked Dipper to her as well, making him sit right next to her on the recliner. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but thankfully the two twins had always been on the lankier side so they made it work.

Dipper held his hand out to Stanford, helping him up and pulling him onto his lap, paralleling his sister next to him. Stanford’s immediately pressed against Stanley’s side, polydactyl hand instinctively slipping into his and squeezing like his life depended on it.

Boyish Dan and Anjelita leaned more on the farther back sides of the recliner while Fiddleford jumped up and sat on the armrest closest to Mabel, the blond pressing himself against Stanley’s other side.

Stanley was now completely surrounded once again, being hugged and squeezed and picked up by these strangers. However this time he didn’t get annoyed or uncomfortable at the attention. Instead there was this familiar warmth in his chest, like he was always meant to be held like this. He can’t really describe what caused that shift.

Maybe these guys are right, maybe he is remembering.

Stan allows himself to relax in the arms of the older woman and against the two kids pressing against either side of him, a small smile growing on his face.

“Okay okay,” Mabel began, flipping back to the first page of the scrapbook. “It all started when I got a call from my dearest older brother asking me to watch my sweet darling great-nephews for the summer, and how could I say no to having my precious little nephews all to myself for 3 months!”

Mabel began to go over every picture and every memento in the scrapbook, everyone else pitching in and adding their own commentary or laughing every once and a while, a smile on everyone’s face.

Except for Stanford.

Stanford was looking intensely at his twin, waiting anxiously for the moment Stanley finally remembered him.

A part of him was excited, the other was dreading it.

The moment his brother remembers what happened, what Ford did to him, their bond is going to completely shatter and Stanley is going to want nothing to do with him anymore. No more late night talks, no more covering for each other, no more getting into trouble. Stanford wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley wanted to cut him out of his life completely after this after what he did. Stanford wouldn’t even blame him. He deserves it after all.

Then he saw it and his heart stopped in his chest.

Stanley rapidly blinked for a second, a familiar shine in his brown eyes as he turned to look at Stanford, recognition and understanding in his stare for the first time since the end of Weirdmageddon.

The two stared silently as Mabel continued to talk, everyone’s words muffling into background noise.

Stanford wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness. His eyes weren’t filled with sorrow or guilt. They were steady, completely prepared for anything Stanley threw at him, knowing whatever it was he deserved it.

Stanley’s eyes were filled with that familiar shine but no emotion showed on his face as his stare bore into his twin, completely silent as the two eyes stayed locked.

Then Stanley did something Stanford wasn’t expecting. His brown eyes softened, a smile on his face as he got closer and leaned his head onto Stanford’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing over his twin’s polydactyl knuckles the same way their mother would do whenever she tried to calm them down when they were much smaller.

Stanford was tense, completely frozen. He was expecting yelling, punching, blaming, or even something as simple as wordlessly pulling his hand away, but he wasn’t expecting forgiveness.

He didn't deserve this. Stanley should hate his guts. Despise him and push him away just like Stanford was doing most of the summer.

Ford’s body didn’t untense, but he did slowly rest his head on top of Stan’s, squeezing his brother's hand as if it was his life line, his thoughts swirling in his mind like a hurricane.

He didn’t deserve Stanley’s forgiveness.

Or was it pity?

It must be pity.

It has to be.

Mabel was still speaking as she leaned down and rested her chin onto Stanley, Dipper doing the same with Stanford. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped everyone in the room. Everyone but Stanford, who instead felt a sickening feeling of guilt deep in his chest.

Stanford didn’t deserve this. This kindness.

So he swore right then and there that he was going to spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did, staying by his twin’s side to make sure nothing would never, ever, hurt his brother ever again.

Or until the day Stanley wises up and realizes that Stanford wasn’t worth his pity, that he’s too good to have a coward like him for a brother.

Whatever came first.

🌻🌱���️~~~~~~~~~~~~🌦️🛡️🥀

Hope you liked it!! It was fun to write when my thumbs weren’t hurting from typing on my phone for 6 hours straight lmao 💥💥💥

[karaaaak]

Is it 4 am when I posted this, yes. Do I car. No. Get attacked with my draft about some things about some of the specters I find neat! If anything I say in this post is wrong, or could have something added to it I would LOVE feedback, I’m still getting the hang of long form posts lol

Anywho! Most of my point here are going to be from either Wikipedia or someone else’s post. I have really bad memory so if I say something that seem familiar to a post you or someone you know made then people mention it and I’ll tag them!

First specter I’m gonna talk about is Eulalie’s.

Eulalies specter, as show, is a chimera, more specifically a Baku!

Baku’s are “Japanese supernatural beings that are said to devour nightmares”. Which explains Eulalie dreameating and possibly also the dispeller of evil spirits ability

Another fact I found interesting is that in a legend about the Baku “a child would wake up form a nightmare and call for the Baku by repeating “Baku-San, come eat my dream” three times. Then the Baku will come into the child’s room and eat the nightmare and the child will go back to sleep peacefully. However calling the Baku should be used sparingly, because if they remain hungry after eating a nightmare they may also devour the child’s hopes and dreams as well.”

Im not to sure if that is relevant to Eulalies character at all but I felt like it was worth adding!

Another thing that many have pointed out is that the markings of Eulalies arms resemble burn marks. Along with the fact that after using her dispeller of evil spirits ability she coughs a flame of fire.

Next specter I wanna talk about is Bernice’s!

I don’t have too too much to talk about with her specter, just some bits and bobs I picked up on rereads

Bernice’s specter in one of my favorites, just because of the fact it’s similar to a self defense mechanism for lack of a better term. Basically what I mean by that is the things she list is death her specter has a large amount of, and another things. Which leads me to the mouths.

The mouths, to me, are extremely interesting. If i remember correctly I read this on a post so credit or op even though I can’t remember who it was 😭. But the placements of the mouths on her specter could be the places she was touched without consent and/or inappropriately. The mouths seem to work as a self defense to her body, biting at whoever comes near on their own. Proctecting those spot of her.

Another thing about her design is the focus on teeth. First then her death and her teeth falling out, and on her specter, with the large teeth on the extra mouths. This association comes from the Edgar Allen Poe story she was based on, Bernice. If you haven’t read it I will spare you you read and put the wiki summary here

“The story is narrated by Egaeus, who is preparing to marry his cousin Berenice. He tends to fall into periods of intense focus, during which he seems to separate himself from the outside world. Berenice begins to deteriorate from an unnamed disease until only her teeth remain healthy. Egaeus obsesses over them. When Berenice is buried, he continues to contemplate her teeth. One day, he awakens with an uneasy feeling from a trance-like state and hears screams. A servant reports that Berenice's grave has been disturbed, and she is still alive. Beside Egaeus is a shovel, a poem about "visiting the grave of my beloved", and a box containing 32 teeth.”

Weird, i know. 😭

Another thing is her pearls. I couldn’t find any mentions of pearls in her story but she has a strange association with them. From them falling off during her death, her having many of them in her specter, and even her outfit in the fast pass episode (fast pass at the time of writing this but ep 126). I’m not to sure what this mean but i figured it throw it in!

Im think thats all imma do in this post, maybe if i find motivation ill make a reblog of this with Ada and Monty (if not Monty then Annabel)

[broifreakingloveharleysawyer]

You’re Mine Germ

Harley Sawyer x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, Smut, Oral (Male receiving), Harley being a possessive little shit, MAYBE a bit of yandere if it counts, Yarnaby being a little silly.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were known as Doctor Sawyer’s ‘helpful’ assistant, constantly having to deal with all the paperwork he has while he spends his days down in the lab, working on the Bigger Bodies Initiative.

A lot of the time, you were quite defiant against him, leading toward your impending ‘punishments’ that Harley inflicted on you. Usually these being some kind of act of pleasure aimed at him more than anything, he was a pleasure hogger, simple as that.

At around midday each day, you would accompany experiment 1166, Yarnaby, on his little stroll around the factory, you often came across your fellow colleagues, some of them even stopping to pet Yarnaby or to speak to you. And oh boy did you make Harley JEALOUS. He wasn’t a man who liked to share his toys, especially not HIS germ. How did he know, you’ve probably asked, well he may or may not have used his computer to hack into the security system to spy on keep an eye on you walk his prized experiment.

Anywho, when you got back to his office, he was leaning against his desk, his chin resting against the backs of his pale hands, clearly displeased with you. Shutting the door behind you, you let out a sigh as you closed the blinds, already knowing what’s about to happen.

“I suppose you know why I’m upset, don’t you, Germ.” He says staring coldly into your (e/c) eyes, a not so hidden intent underneath them. He beckons you over with a bony (hehe boner 😏) finger toward his desk. Oh boy…you were in for it.

“Because I talked to the other colleagues in here other than you, yeah I know the drill by now, Sawyer, I know you.” You immediately retort to him, crossing your arms against your chest, rolling your eyes as you reluctantly move toward his desk. You place your hands against the edge and lean over to where he was sitting, an almost perfect copy of his irritated expression etched onto your face.

Harley simply lets out a growl at this, grabbing your cheeks (NOT THOSE CHEEKS) and forcing your face towards him. “Do you have any idea how much time I’ve invested in you, only to have you thinking you can interact with the workers without consequence, well think again, Germ. I’m not as generous as you think.” His grip tightens, digging in hard enough to bruise, each word becoming more venomous than the last. “And don’t think you have such a privilege of using my name so informally, it’s Harley to you and that’s it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh please, Sawyer would be more formal than anything ‘cause I’m not using your first name, just suck it up DoCtOr SaWyEr because I’m not changing how I say people’s name-“ You were cut off by the feeling of his dry lips pressing aggressively against yours, pulling you into a deep, silencing kiss.

“Shut it, germ. I am your superior and you will treat me that way, or will I have to force down a greater punishment on you?” He spits out, moving his mouth down to your neck to trail open mouthed kisses to your shirt collar. “I own every part of you that's touched me. Every mark I've left, every cry you make- it’s mine…Are we both clear on that?”

“Hickeys are temporary, they don’t mean anything, plus anyone could make me “cry”, you’re not the only one who can do that, Sawyer.” You snap back, leaning back before being practically pulled across the desk and onto the other side.

“Temporary is a relative term, pet. Those marks may fade, but the memory of them never will. And as for your cries, they were a form of pleasure, were they not? Specifically made by ME. If you think anyone else could make you moan like that…You’re wrong…So deeply, utterly and hopelessly mistaken.” Harley huffs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he undid the first few buttons of your blouse.

Placing another set of possessive kisses down your collar, he finally pulls you down onto his lap, grabbing your (h/c) hair with his fist. “Now, be a good little germ, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You knew you weren’t going to get out of this without some sort of physical contact with Harley so you reluctantly opened your mouth. “Good girl for listening.” He praises before suddenly shoving two of his fingers into your mouth, pushing your tongue down to the base. “Keep them in there and don't move.”

You tried to speak but couldn’t due to the thick digits in your mouth, attempting to mock or insult him in some way about something…anything really.

“Ah ah ah, pet, no speaking. Now, let's get back to our little conversation. You were being very stubborn earlier, germ.” He says, his fingers moving slightly inside your mouth as he speaks, making it even more difficult for you to form words. “I think it's time I reminded you of your place around here.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a wet pop, releasing your hair and gesturing to the floor between his feet. “On your knees, now.” He commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. “And remember, pet, I don’t like to repeat myself twice.”

Knowing you had no other option, you slid off his lap and into the chair compartment under the desk, finding a somewhat comfortable space to place your knees for the time being. But that peace didn’t last long, as soon as you're on your knees, he reaches down and grabs a fistful of your hair once more, pulling your head back and forcing you to look up at him. "Good girl. Now, keep your eyes on me and your mouth open while I speak."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He smirks down at you, enjoying the sight of you kneeling before him with your mouth open and your eyes fixed on his face. “You see, germ, the thing is... I don't share well with others.” He begins, his other hand slowly unbuckling his belt. “And you in particular, are mine. Completely and utterly mine.” He says, his voice low and menacing as he pulls his belt free from his pants. “So if anyone were to try and take you from me…let’s just say they wouldn’t leave with both their limbs intact.”

After discarding his belt dismissively onto the hardwood floor, he leans back against his chair, “I hope we do understand the premises now, pet. Because if you ever even think about interacting with another worker on your own terms, there will be harsh punishment. Do I make myself clear, little germ?”

“Understood…Harley…” You mutter, still trying to keep your cocky and confident demeanour despite this humiliating pose. “But can we just skip straight to whatever you’re doing? I don’t need your dramatic monologue explaining what I’ve done wrong, I get it, I talked to a few colleagues while walking Yarnaby, big deal, and you-“

You were once again cut off by Harley, this time, shoving his fingers into your mouth once more. “To think I actually started to think you were being good…such a shame, pet, such a shame. I even considered going gentler this time, but you’ve just earned yourself a rather rough round, so thank youself for being such a brat.” He hisses as he begins to unzip his pants, keeping his grey eyes fixated on you in case you tried anything else.

Finally rid of his bottom half, Harley places his throbbing erection at your lips. “You are going to suck until I tell you to stop, am I understood? Or will I have to choke you until you’re begging for forgiveness.”

Muttering a few curses to yourself, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin sucking, he wasn’t the biggest person you’d ever taken (sorry to all my virgin girlies out there) but he certainly wasn’t small either. You began to take his dick all the way to the base, lightly gagging on it, but not enough to make you start to fully choke.

“Fuck…only a few sucks in and you’re already bringing me to the edge, sometimes I forget how good of a pet you are.” He groans out, his hand covering part of his face as his chest rises and falls more rapidly than usual. “Maybe if you’re actually good I’ll give you a reward…”

As you continue to suck him off, he brings his hand back to your head and guided your head faster up and down on his cock, his groans becoming more breathy and frequent, his grip tightening and loosening each time you go deeper.

“Good girl, this is exactly why you’re mine, you’re the only one who can make me feel like this. And I’m the only one who can have you in this position. Got that?” He gasps out, his guidance becoming faster and sloppier. “F-fuck I’m going to cum, you can take it, can’t you, Germ? You can swallow all of it…”

Preparing yourself for his release, you bob your head a bit slower, enough to make him finish but enough to make sure nothing spills out. Letting out a final, surprisingly loud, moan, he shoots his load into your mouth, running a hand through his disheveled, black hair.

“Darling…I must admit I was quite pent up…thank you…” He mutters, his voice actually having a kinder tone for once, a very faint but visible smile on his face.

Wiping your mouth, you get out from under the desk, the desktop showing all of the security cameras visible. There you could see Yarnaby in the control room, chewing on some wires with his vertical mouth.

“Harley…”

“Yes, Germ?”

“Yarnaby is eating the wires in the control room.”

“I see…well I- Wait what?!”

He quickly fumbles to put his pants back on as he looks at the screen. “Godammit, Yarnaby! Not again!”

Well that’s one more thing you’re gonna have to deal with…

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[smartzelda]

Finished the Temple of Time recently and let me tell you.

Me watching the transform count continue to tick up after getting the master sword:

Two required transforms after each of the 4 of 6 dungeons post master sword

Because of course Arbiter's Grounds/Gerudo desert, Sacred Grove, and Snowpeak ruins are land locked 🙂

I also severely underestimated just how many times you're forced to transform in these dungeons. I think I had what...11? Eleven transforms for Arbiter's Grounds alone (including leaving the mirror chamber). With just getting all the Poes I was only able to limit the number of transforms down to 5. Essentially 2 each for my first 2 poes and then the last transformation to wolf there covered the last two. My 2 major thwarters of reducing my transforms in that temple were ghost rats (can't get rid of as human), Stalfos (can't get rid of as wolf). My 3rd minor one that is required but still annoys me is 2 required tranforms for Death Sword, and my 4th minor one is that you can't pull boxes into place as wolf Link. And finally, honorable mention...

That time I was in the round room with the moving floor (you turn the stone slab thing to move it up and down) as a wolf, and the game force transformed me so I could get my required small key from a chest😔

Anywho, past me had a question:

The answer? Bad. Or well, it depends on how you look at it

Allow me to elaborate 🙂

So as per challenge rules, I've been wearing the Zora armor since I received it. This means fire and ice attacks do double damage. And yes if you were wondering, on a 3 heart challenge. 1

ONE attack which carries ice or fire damge will kill you. You can game over by ice keese. Due to one hit. This means playing through this temple is a no damage game most of the time, and with the one bottle limit, only one fairy can save you for an extra hit.

Good News: I'd saved a fairy all the way from the Forest Temple because I didn't have a single death up to Snowpeak.

Bad News: I was delivered my first game over of the game because I hit a mini freezard in that first tiny room of 3 mini freezards, it ricochet back and hit me, and I died nearly instantly. After my fairy was gone it happened again (as you must clear all 3 mini freezards to continue). I couldn't just leave and get another fairy due to low tranform rules, so I didn't have a fairy almost from the beginning of Snowpeak Ruins till just before Temple of Time's Argohma fight.

Now I should mention, usually when I play through Snowpeak (even on a usual 3 heart run) and I encounter situations such as Freezards that you can't hit from a distance or while it's spitting freeze breath in a different direction, I allow myself to get hit once before attacking (relying on the fact that I can take at least one hit). Which is very much not possible here. I have taken an embarrassing amount of deaths by Freezard and mini Freezard.

So if we're just looking overall from this angle, the dungeon was not fun and not great, but I faired okay overall. I cleared Blizzeta first try without any deaths or needing to heal.

The reason I labeled it earlier as bad though is because I've been doing a separate tally for funsies in addition to my transform tally. I was curious how I'd fair during this challenge, so I'd started a detailed death tally so I could see my skills

Which...looked amazing for a while, clocked in at zero deaths/game overs up until that mini freezard in Snowpeak ruins. And then...proceeded to die 17 more times (15 more due to ice damage) 😀

But anyways I digress, frustrating as it is, this run has been very fun and interesting so far. I've learned a surprising amount of things that I normally wouldn't freely transforming all over the place

Okay okay I'm gonna play Twilight Princess again soon (I can't stay away from it for long) but I need a bit of help

When I play it again I kind of want to challenge myself to do something. Preferably a challenge throughout playing, but one to do during the run is fine as well.

Here's the issue. I've already beat Twilight Princess on every console it came out on. I've beat the cave of ordeals multiple times. I've done a 3 heart run where I beat the cave of ordeals. I've obtained every golden bug multiple times. I've gotten all the poe souls. I've gotten every item in the game and upgrade. I've collected all the stamps in the wii u version. I've collected all the heart containers/pieces of heart, and I beat the cave of shadows and set things up so I could have a full set of heart containers for wolf link if I scan my amiibo into breath of the wild. I even performed multiple glitches on both the wii u and gamecube versions of the game, including following my favorite speedrun for Twilight Princess from beginning to end.

So...does anyone have any other challenge ideas?😅

[dramaticallytotal]

The Rise of Team E-Scope Headcanons: Part Four

Idea Post Part One Last Part

• Paris challenge was one that Noah vehemently hated. Not only because he was made to go through the stupid lasers but also because stupid Justin and sneaky Alejandro kept trying to partner up with him to find their statue pieces and he kept having to remind them it was a team challenge. The attention caused an uptick in Heather's dislike for Noah, but he thought it was because they had been close to beating The Amazons, not because she was jealous of him.

______

New format for headcanons for this AU and maybe others! You may have noticed that I have a need or want for things to be organized, and the way the headcanons are now has kind of gotten to me. XD. They're not bad, but they are all over the place, so I think I'm going to do episode by episode headcanons so they are easier to follow! Let me know which format you like better!

Anywho, onward to the rest of the headcanons!

____________

Walk Like An Egyptian Pt 1 & 2:

• Noah, of course, already knew about the singing part of their contracts and told Izzy and Eva. Chris let him know so he could help convince Eva to stay for the new season. It took a lot of convincing from him and Izzy, but thankfully, Eva agreed to sing.

• Again, Ezekiel has a deal with Chris/ the network to go "feral," so him being thrown out of the plane was planned. As was his stowing-away in the cargo hold till they got to Egypt.

• This season will have reward challenges, elimination challenges, and double elimination challenges since it is a bigger cast and supposed to be the bigger and better season. Chris, of course, chooses when a challenge is a reward, elimination, or double elimination. Sometimes, it's purely strategic views wise, and others he rolls a dice.

• Those who go over the pyramid: Alejandro, Bridgette, Lindsay, Tyler, Courtney, Gwen, Duncan, Katie, Sadie, Trent

• Those who go "under": Noah, Izzy, Owen, Eva, Leshawna, Harold, DJ, Cody, Sierra, Heather, Justin, Ezekiel

• If you think Eva would go over the pyramid, you're absolutely right, but only if she was by herself on the season. She would also go over if it was just Team E-Scope that got on the show. She would carry them the whole way up and down kinda like Alejandro did with Lindsay and Bridgette. But because Owen is there, she knew Noah and Izzy would go through the pyramid, and she didn't want to leave them, so she went with her friends. UwU she a ride or die friend.

• They do get separated, she stuck by mummy Izzy, and they somehow lost Noah and Owen.

• Noah and Owen do run out screaming, and when the others tease him about running away from Zeke, he just dead pans, "You guys know the peanut gallery had to watch the show right? Gwen ended up facing an actual escaped convict in season one. A convict who was a serial killer. I'm not taking my chances."

• Everyone is so nonchalant in how they agree, and a couple even laughed about that incident except Alejandro, who on the inside was terrified by how casual they were about it and even more how they laughed like it was a fond memory. He regrets all his decisions. UwU

• When they're weaving the boats, Heather makes fun of Noah for actually trying because she thinks he regrets getting out so early in season one by not being a team player. Everyone is surprised at his reaction. He laughs.

"Honey, you're not as smart as I thought, which mind you wasn't much, if you didn't figure out that I got myself thrown off."

"WHAT!?" From everyone except Team E-Scope + Owen. Alejandro's was more confused than outraged like the others.

"What do you mean what? Do you really think I was going to stay in that rinky dink run-down camp when we were promised a resort? Yeah, no."

"But...but..."

"I mean, sure, I missed out on the money, but think of it this way. I got to stay in a five-star, fully catered, fully equipped resort for the whole competition, and you got to be humiliated on international television. Looooved your work in 'I Triple Dog Dare You', by the way."

Did Alejandro feel his heart skip a beat at the little smirk Noah had at the end? Not that anyone can prove and not that he could understand the reason why. Perhaps he was just excited to know there was someone at least a little funny on his team.

"And before you start yapping like the chihuahua you are, I was already punished for being thrown off on purpose by the producers. Why do you think I was Chris's assistant?"

"Because you love me?" Chris said out of nowhere.

"Ha."

• That's how everyone found out Noah was made to be Chris's assistant. Which is true! For at least the rest of season one, but he was so efficient that Chris asked him to continue and Noah actually liked the work despite the chaos and agreed.

• Ezekiel is voted out like planned, but Chris is still upset that Duncan quit. It threw off the numbers and the uniform look of the teams!!

• Back on the plane, Justin immediately gets started on flirting with Noah because he finds his anger so entertaining. In this au, Noah and Cody joke about being ex boyfriends like in my other au, so Cody jumps in.

"Flirting with another in front of me? Noah how could you! The wound is still fresh."

"Good to know you're still obsessed with me. It's been like what? Two years since our summer camp romance? I'm flattered."

Justin is irritated that his entertainment was cut short, but the way the two joked with each other was somehow so wholesome it had the whole cast amused. That is until they heard a loud thud and saw Eva on top of Sierra.

• Eva tackled Sierra because the girl had been ready to lunge at Noah. Or well, it looked like it to Eva. The bubbly stalker's face in that moment had honestly scared her, and she worried for her friend.

• After that, the Amazon's awkwardly went to first class for the night while the rest went on about their own business, but they all were thinking about Sierra and her reaction to Noah and Cody play flirting. Noah was disturbed and not that he would admit, but also a little terrified.

• That night, Izzy made Noah sleep between her and Owen just in case Stalkerlicious came out for some odd idea of revenge. Little did they know, but Eva didn't get a lot of sleep because she was watching the door from her spot on the sofa closest to it for that same reason. She wouldn't let anyone hurt her little brother.

• They did get to stay in Egypt for about two days once they landed the plane closer to a city. It was nice. They got to stay in a hotel, and Eva got to hang around her friends without it seeming suspicious or like they were in an alliance.

• It's during this time that Noah and Izzy see how Alejandro's flirting was getting to Harold and saw the way this seemed to please the charming boy. Izzy is the one who guessed Harold and Leshawna were Alejandro's first targets. But over the two days, Harold had been getting on Noah's last nerve with how the dude always tried to correct something Noah said or debate the validity of whatever Noah said. Noah knows he's right each time because he legit can't forget information he takes in, so it just irritated him that Harold thought he knew more than him.

• It's not in an arrogant way, Noah is legit a genius with an eidetic memory. It's not that he thinks he's right. He knows he's right. The way Harold had been confronting him had him feeling overwhelmed and more than a little frustrated.

• Izzy is so ride or die she's prepared to throw Harold off the plane herself once they are told it's time to fly again, but Noah just got this look on his face before he smiled maniacally and Izzy knew he had a plan. Thankfully, he did, and over the days they were flying, Noah and Izzy made sure to talk up the cultural insensitivity of Chris and the show in Egypt. What with the costume and the way he didn't even learn about the culture.

• I do see Chris as Birdie coded from Glass Onion, so he genuinely doesn't see what he's doing as wrong or incorrect.

• Noah and Izzy were hoping Harold would be so annoying that he would get Chris so mad he sabotaged the team by giving them a disadvantage, or he annoyed his team so much they sent him home.

• No one knows they planned this. Not even the viewers because they don't apologize and confess in the confessional like in future eliminations. It looks like it was all Alejandro's fault, which looks great for them as they view his as competition/the enemy.

• They know because, look, Noah can put two and two together and a guy who was going to be on a show called Total Drama: Dirtbags has got to he bad news but also because he's the one who cast him in the show in the first place. He knows what he's capable of. But also because he's attracted to him, and he almost always found the bad guys in movies/shows to be really attractive.

Next

[grayson-on-the-chandelier]

I think I'm overdue for an intro.

💙NIGHTWING IS IN THE HOUSE!!! 💙

They call me "peacock but masculine". I preen often.

My name is Richards "Dick" Grayson-Wayne, son of Bruce Thomas Wayne, and brother of...

Jason Todd-Wayne

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne

Damian al-Ghul Wayne

Cassandra Cain-Wayne

And a lot more siblings. (Dad is a hoarder ✋😒)

Resident and Vigilante Hero of Bludhaven, but I do stop by in Keystone and Gotham.

I'm HelPol and I work with Hermes :]

I have three kids now :] @that-spider-in-gotham , her name is Sage, hero name Arachne. 🕷, Astro, @batmans-sidekick-robin 🫶 and Adam, @cookiesnotd3ad 🍪 but Adam is in shared custody with me and his other parent.

I broke up with Wally... 💔

I have someone living in my brain rent free. Say hi to Eo.

Hiiiii!!!!! :D I'm Eo, god of Birds and Dreams!!!! I love ducks and I'm Dickie's best friend!!!

You mean boyfriend?

Yeah!!!!

My account is @e0bard-birds-of-a-feather follow me!!!

Update, it's not Eo anymore. It's Stranger. Say hello, Stranger.

Hello... People of the web.

He's a manifestation of my god-marked shit. I don't wanna know.

Eo is still up, but he's out of my body now. So yeah. Same account.

ANYWHO, I'll be in touch! Nightwing out!

🐦🦇

P. S. I'm a bird until further notice.🐦

P.S.S. I think there's no further notice. I'm a winged person permanently. 🥲

OOC: Pro tip, he's turned into a God/demigod, specifically God of Memories since he's so in touch with the past and always thinking of the future.

Ooc: hi!! Gonna keep things simple, I hate disclosing myself to the public. No Offense!

Pronouns are She/They, but just call me Clay when referring to me! (No, I am not Clay face)

Dick has had Eo in his brain for a couple months, about 9-12. Eo is super smitten, I swear. I can see why. Don't worry, Nightwing is also on my hear me out list. You and I both Eo. Lmao

I make art, too, and I do free commissions!! Feel free to ask for any art and stuff. References for how my art looks like will be below 👇

I'm often busy, but if I am online, come say hi! I accept asks and I want more asks cause I can be bored easily. :/

✨Okay, here is where the crazy is. Dickie is a winged person! It's my AU of him

I'm a pan kid :] ❤💛💙

GMT +8 for anyone who's wondering. DMs and RP requests are available anytime!

My best real life friend is @ilikesnowbunnies !!

My girlfriend is @/e0bard-birds-of-a-feather !!

My social media bestie is @imbatman-imtired !! Hi!!

I am HelPol, but I don't discriminate any other religion! Don't worry! I work with Hermes and Poseidon most often :]

My favourite musical is EPIC: the Musical by Jorge Rivera-Herrans :)

Anything that is inappropriate, or something that includes any $3×ualized blogs/art are not allowed on my page. I also do not allow any 🔞 art commissions. Sorry :/

But if you block #suggestive cause that's where I keep all the spice, you're welcome to stay. :]

Not gonna disclose my age. :[ but don't worry! Mun's blog is well for viewers over 18. And mun is over 18. Trust.

I have both OCD and ADHD. :/

Mun also is not as free as a bird!!! I have parenting restrictions, studies and every week I have to take some time off to memorize some history for a quiz (translated from Asian-slang) so please bear in mind that I may not be online for several days at a time, most likely because my Tumblr is locked.

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask!!

Below is IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

Art references down here!!!

[freakmonster9000]

💫 Hello, hello oomfie!! ✨

💫 I am here because I want to know what your favourite thing about your favourite character in COD Zombies is!! Bring on the yap!! ✨

helloooo omgee. ive seen you asking other people the same thing and its Awesome btu im not gonna like them all cuz that would be too many notifs on your end probably LOL

ANYWHO!! apologies in advance my thoguht process is very messy and its difficult to put stuff like this into words,, but here!!

of course we all know richtofen is my favorite, among a majority of people. for many reasons. he is Funny, hashtag Relatable (to a degree--more specifically primis), and has the most backstory to get fed. So i'm a little generic and boring (∪.∪ )...zzz

buuuut ... i do particularly like zombie richtofen ! you may have noticed this by now. i think the idea of it is rather interesting, actually, because the comics are different from the games (i dont remember whether or not the comics are canon but ... yahh)!!

in the comics, we see zombietofen (i have gained a habit of calling him that since its just easier) is able to control the zombies, similar to what youre able to do in the MPD... its interesting, but without doubt unrealistic. i believe he'd just be like any other zombie within the countless hordes. ( ˘︹˘ )

...which leads to his thoughts and feelings about these circumstances. i think it'd actually have a more harrowing effect on him--because now he's insignificant; just another bug to be squashed. it doesn't help that he's isolated from the rest of his crew. how is he supposed to do anything properly with this frail undead body? he'll do anything to get his normal body back, and that's probably why we see him in the comics under primis richtofen's lead.

aside from the comics, we also get like a millisecond of screen time of this guy in TDT (and a jumpscare but thats basically insignificant). ugh love him. anyway... he just kinda like... turns into a zombie? it makes me wonder exactly how zombification works in codz: is a bite required and infection ensues, do you become one over time due to 115 exposure, is it required to die first after 115 exposure instead of becoming one over time, or a mix of those? not to mention, how does 115 affect the stages of decay? i dont think we ever see flies/maggots/etc at all within the games, so i'd like to think that the zombies rapidly decay until a certain point and then the 115 preserves them, like a weird morbid mummification of sorts. the zombies are frail, that is for certain--because all it takes is one hit from a knife to die (that leads me to the hc that the zombies dont get stronger, the crews get weaker from constantly fighting but i wont get into that).

but regardless of this, it does seem like edward is still sentient after his zombification. alongside, it's hinted multiple times throughout the story that zombies do retain memory to a degree and/or the ability to react to things (can also be seen where zombietofen screams before getting his brains blown out).

i dont think edward would be able to talk very well or at all in this bodily state, so that too would deeply affect how he goes about things. he's not able to effectively communicate, so how did he ever go about things? personally i dont have any headcanons for that... sorrayyy(￣﹏￣；)

though on the topic of headcanons, i have given zombietofen a few small ones: fangs (to accompany the claws we see he has in the comics), and of course animalistic tendencies. he may be sentient, but he's not off the hook--he still has a primal hunger and thirst for gore like any other zombie. again, it all boils down to theorizing how he'd react to things like this. would he view it as disgusting and be regretful, now that he was one of them? or would he retain his psychopathic sadomasochism and enjoy the bloodshed as much as he did before?

as for primis zombietofen, i believe it's definitely plausible, and fun to think about as well. what if, instead of maxis, it had been him? or both of them? maybe he endures a little too much dimension hopping and reaches ultimate corruption, becoming one of those ghoulish beasts himself.

-

anyway, there's my massive rant... i could probably spew more but i'll spare you the novel-long essay.

thanks for the ask!! o(≧∀≦)o

TL;DR: zombie richtofen 🥰🥰🤤🤤🤤

[queenjunothegreat]

Okay!!!! After a couple days off, I'm back!! This time with more angst, and I'm not even gonna give you any fluff to counteract it! Writing this made me miserable! Yay! Also, the only relationship in this fic is Piper and Tristan, so I'm gonna need you all to help me because that tag does NOT get a lot of traffic, rip.

Anywho, may I present Ao3 Collection Day Ten: He Can't Remember Why

Tristan doesn’t really like the fact that he can’t remember things, but life goes on. His daughter is at school (or was it a camp? He can’t remember) and Hedge leaves, but Mellie stays. He’s starting to forget more now, things from before that shouldn’t have anything to do with that retreat he took. He knows there was a woman, and he loved her, but he doesn’t remember her name. He tells Mellie, and she won’t meet his eye, but she says that sometimes the human brain forgets hurtful things when it’s ready to heal. She says that him forgetting this woman is a good thing because it means he’s finally letting go. He agrees with her and pretends to not notice when she cancels his appointment to see a neurologist. What he doesn’t tell Mellie is that he’s not healing. He hasn’t let go. He’s always clung to those memories of that woman, and to lose them is like losing a limb. He may not remember her face, but he knows the shape of the hole her memories had filled in his heart. *** Tristan McLean is having memory problems. It's not a problem until it is. He tries to ignore it but he can't Ao3 Anniversary Collection Day Ten: Amnesia

Tristan McLean is having trouble remembering things. He doesn’t think he’s always had memory problems, and he’s not sure when these started. Well, that’s actually not entirely true. There’s a week that he can’t remember, and not the same kind of ‘can’t remember’ where he struggles to grasp at fuzzy details, this one is just an entire week of his life that has been completely blacked out. He’s reminded of those times where he was given confidential scripts to read over that had pages and pages of censored lines. He knows that something is supposed to be there, and he knows that it’s important, but he can’t see what it is. His life coach tells him that he just went on a retreat that didn’t agree with him, and that the memory loss is unfortunate, but not unexpected. He doesn’t remember hiring a life coach or why he needs one, but Hedge is nice and he gets along really well with his assistant Mellie. He doesn’t remember hiring Mellie, either, but he supposes that is ‘unfortunate, but not unexpected,’ too.

What he doesn’t tell Hedge is that he does remember one thing. He remembers his daughter cradling him to her chest while his body was wracked with sobs. He doesn’t remember why he needed her comfort but he knows that he did need it. Desperately.

Tristan doesn’t really like the fact that he can’t remember things, but life goes on. His daughter is at school (or was it a camp? He can’t remember) and Hedge leaves, but Mellie stays. He’s starting to forget more now, things from before that shouldn’t have anything to do with that retreat he took. He knows there was a woman, and he loved her, but he doesn’t remember her name. He tells Mellie, and she won’t meet his eye, but she says that sometimes the human brain forgets hurtful things when it’s ready to heal. She says that him forgetting this woman is a good thing because it means he’s finally letting go. He agrees with her and pretends to not notice when she cancels his appointment to see a neurologist. 

What he doesn’t tell Mellie is that he’s not healing. He hasn’t let go. He’s always clung to those memories of that woman, and to lose them is like losing a limb. He may not remember her face, but he knows the shape of the hole her memories had filled in his heart. 

Then, things go very, very wrong. His daughter comes home, and she brings her boyfriend. They claim to love each other, but there is a tension between them. A sadness. Tristan tries to ask them about it, but he’s only ever met with tight smiles and placating words. To make matters worse, his memory is getting spottier. He used to have an assistant, he knows he did because he walks past her desk, but he can’t remember her name or what she looked like. He books an appointment with a neurologist again and ignores the feeling of déjà vu. The doctor can’t find anything wrong with him; his MRI and CT scans come back clear and he passes the cognitive tests with flying colors. The doctor tells him that sometimes people start to lose their memory as they age. He’s far too young for that, but every case is unique. The doctor suggests he see a therapist. The therapist looks at him with kind, sad eyes and suggests he start journaling. 

He doesn’t tell the therapist about his relationship with his daughter. He doesn’t tell her about their strained conversations or the fact that he brought home chicken fajitas for dinner the night before. He doesn’t tell her about the fact that he hardly knows anything about his own daughter. He doesn’t tell her because he forgets that he can’t remember.

Things only ever get worse. He loses roles left, right, and center, he’s millions of dollars in debt over taxes he didn’t know he owed, and he finds his daughter sobbing hysterically on the beach clutching the dead body of a boy he thinks he’s supposed to know. He leaves LA after that. It’s too expensive and there’s too much noise and pressure. He just can’t take it anymore. He’s glad that he never sold his father’s house. It’s small and run-down and houses its own fair share of ghosts, but it’s just what he needs. 

He doesn’t listen when he tries to tell himself there’s something he’s forgetting. He doesn’t listen to the half-memory of a little girl’s voice asking him if he’s really going to sell her grandpa’s house. He’s tired of not remembering things. He just wants to cling to what’s left of his life that he can still call his own.

It’s in Oklahoma where he meets Shel. She’s bright and cheerful, even if her fashion says otherwise, and she’s quick as a whip and twice as sharp. He’s not sure why, but he loves her. Her big brown eyes and easy smile fill a hole in his heart that he never realized was there before, and he’s glad to have her in his life, even if he’s not really sure why she’s there. She visits his little two-room house frequently, but never for long and she always seems like she’s waiting one something, so he doesn’t think she’s there for him, but he can’t imagine what else she’d be there for. Still, she’s always kind to him and he’s always happy to welcome her in and he’s sad to see her go. 

She’s there again one Saturday afternoon, teeth bared in a playful grin when he opens the door. “Hi, Mr. McLean.”

“Hi, Shel. Call me Tristan,” he reminds her, just like he always does. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Naw, I don’t plan on being here too long. Thanks, though!”

“Stay as long as you like,” he says. It’s a shame that she won’t be here long, but he’s glad to have her for as long as he can. “Have you been up to anything interesting?”

“I went hiking yesterday,” she said eagerly. “Do you wanna see some of the pictures I took?”

He says yes, of course, and they sit together on the old couch while Shel flips through the photo album on her phone. She’s a remarkably good photographer, and she has a knack for finding the most picturesque locations Tristan has ever seen when she goes on her hikes, so it’s always a pleasure to look through her albums. There’s one photo at the end that catches his attention, and he feels his heart freeze for some reason. “Wait, can– can you go back one? Please?”

Shel hesitates. She’d deliberately flipped past it as quickly as she could the first time, and she seems unwilling to go back to it, but eventually she pulls it up again. 

The photo is of a girl. At first glance, Tristan had thought it was Shel, but it was obviously someone different now that he was properly looking at her. She’s laughing in the picture, her head tipped back and her hand clutching at her chest as if to keep her heart in its cage. He doesn’t know her, but she’s familiar somehow, until he realizes that he’s seen some of her features in his own bathroom mirror. He feels sad, but he can’t remember why.

“Did you take someone hiking with you?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light and free of sorrow. “She seems nice.”

Shel squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath before she smiles at him. “Yeah, that’s my girlfriend. I-I think you’d really like her.”

Tristan smiles at her. He remembers being young and in love. “You should bring her around sometime. What’s her name?”

Shel presses her lips tight together and she takes another deep breath and blinks hard a few times. “Piper. Her name’s Piper.”

Piper.

Piper.

Piper.

Tristan smiles at her. “A lovely name for a lovely girl.”

He feels sad, but he can’t remember why.

[restinslices]

Hi I I aorry if this is a bad request but do you think you could write something with Annabeth where you're her Athena sister?

I wrote general headcanons since there wasn’t a specific prompt. If you want smth in particular or smth expounded on, feel free to ask!

I’m gonna mix in book lore and tv show lore

Remember I don’t have perfect memory though so be easy on me

Anywho-

Being Annabeth’s older and accomplished sister means she admires you but is also jealous 

I don’t think the jealousy leads to her trying to sabotage you or anything but I think it’s obvious to spot 

You have a special eye that she wishes she had 

Annabeth is great at architecture and noticing small details, but nothing slips past you 

If she notice small details, you notice micro details 

If she’s great at architecture, you’re perfect at it

If she’s a great captain, you’re a perfect captain 

You let her run the team to be nice. Apart of her hates it but the other is appreciative 

I think she’d appreciate it more if you gave suggestions and helped in places where she lacked 

I think that hubris thing would slip in and she wouldn’t wanna accept the help but then she’d realize you have points and she’d give in 

I think having Annabeth as a younger sister means watching how her and Percy’s relationship grow 

You’re the first to be like “so, Percy? When are you two getting together?”

She denies it, very loudly may I add 

“What?! Me and Seaweed Brain?! HA! US? TOGETHER? NEVER!” “…” “…” “Seaweed Brain and I. Guess you can’t think while you’re crushing”

It aggravates her that you seem to know everything before it happens 

You two have the most realistic sibling relationship in your cabin 

Sometimes other campers try to watch Annabeth’s temper 

Not you 

You two poke at each other, you stress each other out, you make each other laugh, you give her advice, you comfort each other, you challenge each other, you do it all

After Luke’s betrayal Annabeth is pretty sensitive so you try to be there for her and fill in the empty roll Luke left 

You’re working double time

Considering you’re her older sister, you also help when it comes to training 

I don’t mean in groups, I also mean one on one 

But naturally, that also means you’re very hard on her 

It’s for her benefit. She’ll understand that one day if she hasn’t already. It’s to make her the best warrior possible 

Being Annabeth’s sister means giving her womanly advice also 

Athena ain’t there and Chiron is not teaching any of that shit. Let’s be fr 

That’s what also adds to your bond 

It’s not like you’re only family when you’re at camp 

You’re family and still help each other even when you’re out of camp

And you don’t just talk about camp and monsters 

You talk about other shit in the world 

Yeah, don’t die by monsters but you know what else will fuck you over? Not doing your taxes.

I feel like I also have to address when Annabeth was taken 

You obviously wanna be apart of the team that goes to get her, and tbh if Percy wasn’t the main character and had to be the 5th person, you’d go 

Whenever she returns, you’d check in to make sure she’s alright and try to keep her spirits high after seeing Luke

Off topic but dare I say y’all build Lego shit together?

I just feel like if you can’t build actual buildings, use Legos

Since the two of you train a lot, especially one on one, y’all balance each other really well 

Take the two major battles for example. The one at camp in BOTL and the final showdown with Kronos in TLO

Anyone going against the both of you would get hit repeatedly 

And I don’t mean only one of y’all are swinging, I mean both of you are playing off of each other 

The modern youth would call this “jumping”-

That doesn’t sound as beautiful though 

If she’s throwing a left, you’re on the right 

If she jumps to hit the enemy high, you’re sliding to hit the enemy low

If she’s grabbing someone, you’re delivering the final blow via stabbing 

You spend so much time together, your minds are practically linked  

When one of you is injured in battle, the other will make sure to aid them, even if neither of you are nurses 

After TLO, Annabeth is told she can rebuild Olympus in her image 

Guess who she’s asking for help?

You of course 

When you eventually leave camp to do your own thing as an adult, it’s very bittersweet

Bitter because you’ll miss each other and won’t be able to talk to each other late at night 

Sweet because you’re both in good standing with each other, Iris messages, and you both know you’ll do great things on your own journey 

When she needs help though, she’ll call you

And you’ll always answer 

Because you’ll always be family 

You promised 

That ending was corny asf. I’m sorry.

I’ve only read the PJO series so far. I’ve been procrastinating on the others, so I only mentioned those books. And if her personality ain’t 100% accurate, my bad.

[snekwritesstuff]

Take A Break (pt. 2 of ?)

Part 1 Here! Pairing: Doomed Polycule? I think? Word Count: 948 Warnings: Bill is once again a little shit, don't assume this is healthy yet. Otherwise, none!

hi hello we're back with this again. i have some ideas for this still but im not sure how to implement them all. anywho...enjoy!

Fiddleford was ready to wake up. As he clung to the wall behind him, he swallowed thickly at the sight of Bill in the flesh. Or at least in the…whatever he was made of. The demon's eye pierced his own, sending a bolt of anxiety through the engineer.

“Specs! Good to finally meet you, eh?” Bill said, holding out his hand and closing his eye in a smile.

Fidds could only nod, sliding down the cabin wall. 

“I hear you wanna talk! Name's Bill, though you seem to already know that.” When Fidds didn't shake his hand, he brought it back with a shrug. “And you're Fiddlesticks! Gotta say, for a hick, you seem to have a pretty nice mindscape in here. But maybe that's because you've used the old memory gun a few too many times.”

“You know about the gun?” Fidds asked, voice cracking.

“Of course I know about the gun!” Bill laughed, suddenly approaching Fidds’ face. “And I know about your wife, and about your desperation for my Fordsy.”

“My–”

“Oh, don't play dumb with me, Specs, you gave him googly eyes before you left the basement. And it's almost like, and I'm spitballing here, I'm in your head.”

Fidds’ face flushed red as he turned away. “This isn’t fair, Bill. I’m tryin’ to have a civil conversation.”

Bill blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Civil? Where Fordsy is concerned? Never.”

“So you two are…Not important. Not…yeah.” Fidds sighed, bringing a hand to his face. “Look, you’re a little intimidatin’, but if you’re makin’ him happy, then I can’t complain. Just try to be mindful of ‘im. And, well, I think you and I should at least try to play nice since we both clearly care for ‘im.”

“Hm, asking something of me without giving me something in return…Not my style, Specs.” The demon tapped a finger to where his mouth would have been if he had one. Did…he have one? “Though, I do love a good deal. How ‘bout we make one?”

Fidds shook his head vigorously. “Mama raised a godly boy, and while that may be different now, I know better than to meddle in devilish voodoo.” He shuddered with a grimace. “This dream's plenty proof for me that you exist.”

Bill twirled his cane, a hand behind his head. “Fordsy likes you too, y'know.”

“Not my business. He's got his love life, I've got mine. No need to–What?” 

With a laugh the demon swam in front of the engineer, his chin resting on folded hands and legs kicking behind him. “I couldn't give less of a damn if you like him, Fiddlesticks. I care because he always gets so prickly when his little hillbilly's involved. You're a smart one, but nothing like my Sixer.” His large eye inched ever closer towards Fidds. “Which makes me curious. Why does the greatest mind across every dimension care about someone as mediocre as you, when he has a god that cares about him and can boost his potential?” 

“I couldn’t tell you.” The sting of those words hurt more than Fidds wanted to admit. “But I know a gamble when I see one, and I'm starin’ one head on. What is he gettin’ out of this?” 

“Power beyond any mortal mind's comprehension, an expanding kingdom to rule and study as he sees fit, a life with his Muse…” The demon tapped his fingers in a counting motion. “What else could my Fordsy want? Certainly nothing you could provide.”

“Ford's not interested in power,” Fidds spat. 

“Oh-ho, boy are you wrong!” Bill laughed. “All humans want power!”

“I don't–”

“Hold on, hold on, get your suspenders out of that knot! Power manifests in different ways, Fiddlesticks.” The demon jabbed a finger towards the man's glasses. “But we're getting off topic…Here's the deal. I can't physically enter your realm unless that portal's finished.”

“Good,” the engineer growled. “I don't want you anywhere near this place.”

“I mean no harm, of course, and even if I did, Ford's willing to help me. My offer to you is if you let me drive this bad boy around every once in a while, I can make sure we both get a piece of our favorite scientist.”

Fidds’ face twisted in disgust, shaking his head again. “Ford would never. And you’ve got another thing comin’ if you think I’d let you use me to keep twistin’ his brain every which way.”

Bill shrugged. “Your loss, Fiddlesticks, but the offer’s always on the table! Anywho, time for me to go! Nothing matters, buy gold, bye–”

“Now hold your horses!” At Bill’s slow blink, Fidds continued. “That’s all? You come into my head, ruin my night, and-and you’re just gonna leave? I haven’t gotten a single word in! What do you really want with Ford?”

“I just told you, Specs, keep up!”

Fidds finally stood, shoving a finger in the demon’s face. “I ain’t stupid, Billy, you know exactly what I’m askin’ you!”

“And I ain’t tellin’ you!” Bill’s accent was a mockery, fueling Fidds’ bubbling rage. 

“Fine then! But if you hurt him, there ain’t nothin’ in any dimension that can stop me from tearing those stupid little limbs off your stupid yellow body and feeding them to you one by one.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Fiddlesticks!” Bill patted Fidds’ head condescendingly. “You’re fun! I’ll be here more often, I think. Bye!”

As the demon disappeared, Fidds woke up with a start. He slammed a fist against his mattress and stood. Pacing the floor, he muttered to himself before sitting at his desk and drawing up blueprints for an inter-dimensional death ray that aimed only at yellow triangles.

[the-zapped-part-timer]

Why Does Rippen Itch?

I have three theories:

1.) Rippen is just like that.

Simply put, he's just naturally itchy. It was probably just a funny bit to put in the episode. (Probably what Sam Levine intended). But like I, like many others, like to overanalyze! So, onto the next one!

2.) Earth's atmosphere is very different from XXJRJXEN (his homeworld).

Obviously, we don't know what the atmosphere is like for sure. It's probably close to Earth's, oxygen wise since Phil travels there (then again, knowing the ending...). But it's possible that the switch from XXJRJXEN to Earth causes him to become itchy and may, in turn, make any XXJRJXENIAN who travels to Earth to also become itchy.

(Little detail to note: it looks like there's some sort of smog or haze surrounding the planet. Which could mean... something)

3.) Happiness or euphoric emotions.

@bobrcurwa brought up an interesting tidbit when we had a little discussion about this in the notes of this post. In the Russian translation of Larry Manor, Rippen says: "I'm itching with happiness." Although, I believe he says that to taunt Penn to build up to the punchline of him using the back scratcher to scratch his ass. Like when he says in the English translation: "All this winning sure makes me itchy."

(apologies that you and Penn had to see this)

But, but, Rippen butt! This theory still has a hypothetical leg to hop on! Let's look at the episode that introduced his itchiness, Trading Faces. Rippen and Larry switch bodies, Larry is hilarious in Rippen's body, and Rippen is taking advantage of being the principal and coming up with possibly the most evil plan he ever had (because it actually affects the Trio's lives).

Anywho, Larry is a generally happy guy. We all know this as a fact, and so him staying in that body long enough triggers it into becoming itchy, to the point of being so unbearable that even Larry, scratching like crazy (with the help of Boone) doesn't want to be stuck in there, as he says himself: "I was really excited about being Rippen, but his body is so itchy! Ngh, I don't want to be this itchy forever."

Although the itching goes on pause for a while, until Rippen and Larry inevitably get switched back. More than likely due to Larry's... Larriness (happiness) still lingering in his body, Rippen begins shifting in his glued spot. The first thing he says is: "Oh, my Rippen body really is itchy."

Which is... odd. How he says it almost makes it seem like he himself is just finding this out, but that's not the case. I'll bring that up in a moment, but let's acknowledge that he's basically responding to what Larry said earlier about his body, but they weren't in the same room at all! So maybe he's was still momentarily connected to Larry's thoughts and memories? More than likely not, it was probably just a funny line to put in. But hey, nothing can exactly deny that idea!

Now, back to that other point. He is indeed familiar with the fact that his body has a tendency to be itchy due to him ripping himself off the couch he was glued to (leaving him only in his boxers). Sprinting over to the intercom on Larry's desk and pleading for anyone to bring him, specifically calamine lotion, as he furiously scratches himself, and we all get to admire his physique.

You're probably thinking: "El, that doesn't really prove anything!" To that, I'll say... yeah. But wouldn't it be so interesting if such a positive feeling, pure unbridled euphoria, something he rarely gets to feel, will basically attack him? Causing a sort of psychogenic itch. Wouldn't that be another awful thing to add to the list of everything biting him in the ass? It still feels true to his character.

But this raises a question: Is this a species thing or a him thing? That's up to you! It works either way.

But hey, that's just a theory...

A COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY BUT FUN TO THINK ABOUT THEORY!

Thanks for reading!

[an-unfinished-symphony]

• o7 •

Hello! The name's Wilbur. I'm a c!Wilbur fictionkin, straight from the Dream SMP. Sooo, I've gotten plenty of time to think about this, and today I've elected to finally make a profile for it.

Call me Wilbur! I go by He/They.

Anyhow, I'm going to set down a few rules, guidelines, and notes;

☆ Please remember I'm really a c!Wilbur fictionkin, and this isn't roleplay. You may ask questions regarding my Canon, although it may not be entirely compliant to the canon you know. I'm probably most like Canon when I'm in kinshift. 👍🏽

☆ You may message me as you wish! I prefer asks or replies before dms, though. I'd rather not get too up close to start with. It's strange, I know, though it's a preference of mine.

☆ Please do not associate me with cc/irl content creator William Gold. I am not him nor will I ever will be. I do not condone his actions and he's really repulsive. Similarly, I don't condone the actions of any other "problematic" content creators associated with the Dream SMP.

☆ Feel free to ask me questions regarding my canon! I adore talking about my memories, especially with other Dream SMP kins and fictives alike. Interact! Be merry! Cmon, I want to hear from other Dream SMP kins!!!

Anywho, now let's dive back into the deeper parts of the introduction.

Who are you?

I'm c!Wilbur! I recall most everything from the Dream SMP and then some, even though my blog is mainly Revivebur themed.

I go by He/They. I love writing, sketching, music, plays, geography, and folklore/mythology, among other things. I was still an English Major in my canon and hope to someday be the same in real life.

To be clear, I'm a minor, so keep that in mind!

Why did you make this blog?

To interact with other Dream SMP kins, of course. This goes for everyone; fictionkins, fictionhearted folk, soulbonds, copinglinks, IRLS fictives, whatever. If you're a Dream SMP character, hit me up, baby!

Anyone in particular you're looking for/you want to stay away from you?

I'm looking for anyone who might've knew me, of course, although I'm mainly looking for those I held dear to me. This includes my beloathed c!Quackity, the lovely c!Niki, my little brother c!Tommy, my dad c!Philza, and the awesome c!Technoblade. And, of course, my wife Sally and my son c!Fundy, if you're out there.

Doubles are just fine, I love comparing canons. It's interesting to me! As for Ghostbur, I don't remember being Ghostbur, but I do remember being in limbo. I'm led to believe he was a seperate entity from me. Ghostbur, feel free to interact as you wish! I want to see the other me from when I was cooped up in limbo...

Those who support cc!Wilbur can leave. Sorry, not sorry.

Tags?

So far, there's only one-- #WilbursWords🖋

- wherein I speak! I'll make more later, likely for all the memories and such. :]

Farewell!

Anywho, that'll be it for now! Have splendid days.

Sincerely,

Wilbur Soot

[rubydubydoo122]

What's a song that reminds you of Jason, Bruce, Dick and Damian?

For Damian, definitely "Love Like You" From Steven Universe, especially the line "I always thought I might be bad now I'm sure that it's true, cus, I think you're so good, and I'm nothing like you"

for Dick, I would say "Look After You" By the Fray, specifically to his siblings and specifically the line "What's mine is yours to leave or take, what's mine is yours to make your own" also, "Seven" by Taylor Swift, Idk, I just feel like that song would remind him of his time in the circus.

For Bruce "Fine Line" by Harry Styles. I have a whole Band AU planned out Just so that for the final song, Bruce sings this to all the kids.

and for Jason.... Wooo doggie, I hAve A LOt. I'll just give you the main ones

"Would've Could've Should've" by Taylor Swift. I could copy paste the entire song in here and It would be like pulling a page out of Jason's Diary. Same with "Right Where You Left Me" "My Tear Ricochet" "THE GREAT WAR" and I could go on and on and on "Haunted" "Back to December" "Nothing New" "Mr. Perfectly Fine" Is Taylor Swift Jason Todd?

Then there's "The Grudge" by Olivia Rodrigo "I have nightmares each week about that friday in may" "Trust that you betrayed confusion that still lingers, took everything I loved and crushed it in betweeen your fingers" and "and I know in my heart, hurt people, hurt people, and We both drew blood but man those cuts were never equal"

SO MANY CONAN GRAY SONGS. "Winner" ("my heart that once was beating, bleeding the palm of your hand. yet you have the nerve to miss me how do I somehow feel guilty, WHEN YOU'RE THE ONE WHO LET IT GET THIS BAD; you don't really wanna hear the truth, do you? it's obvious to anyone who ever knew you. That all you ever wanted was to fight. I was only trying to survive your chaos") "Astronomy" "FAMILY LINE" "Memories" "jigsaw" "THE EXIT" ("Feels like, we had matching wounds but mine's still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine. Feel like WE BURRIED ALIVE something that NEVER DIED so god it HURT when I FOUND OUT. You love her, it's over, do you even doubt it on your lips. You love her. It's over. You already found someone to miss while I'm still standing at the exit." Maturing is realizing it's the second half of the chorus that's more important to Jason Todd's character than the first)

Afraid by the Neighborhood, but this could really go for any of the Batboys

I KNOW THE END by Phoebe Bridgers. I just feel like if there was ever a show depicting Jason's run as Robin, and that song played as he was getting beat up by the joker and the Bridge hit as the timer was counting down, I would ABSOLUTELY LOSE IT. IF THAT HAPPENS I WOULD HAVE TO BE SENT TO ARKHAM HOLY SHIT EVERY TIME I HEAR THAT SONG I THINK OF JASON"S DEATH

anywho, thanks for coming to my ted talk