#but Bill is just confuzzled

[evilbookworm]

Back on my bullshit. Here’s how they got Reddie and Benverly together.

Ok, first benverly. Obviously, Ben talks about Bev all the time and gives her the most loving looks in the world so it’s not hard for Stan and Bill to put two and two together.

Bill most likely comes up with a frivolous plan to help Ben woo her, and Ben, too nice to say no, agrees. Stan, being the prissy wife he is, disapproves, but lets them go along with it.

Anyways, the plan fails, and Ben is heartbroken. Bill apologizes, and Stan comes and tells Ben just to be honest with Bev. And that he’s seen the way she looks at him, and that Bev likes him back. And benverly ensues.

Then, Reddie. Stan, being Richie’s best friend and the observant person he is, quickly catches on to his feelings. He thinks it’s a one sided attraction at one point, but then notices how Eddie looks at Richie. At that point, it’s obvious the two are hopelessly enamored with each other.

So, Stan talks to Bill, hoping he’ll help get their two idiot friends together. But Bill is shocked. Richie and Eddie like each other??? What??? (Yeah Stan had to confirm that Ben liked Bev and Bev back to Bill) He’s kind of clueless. But Bill agrees to help anyways. Because Stan is his scary wife (and because he loves him).

So they both talk to their best friends, hoping they can get them to talk, but Richie and Eddie are idiots. Richie, while accepting of his feelings, refuses to believe Eddie likes him back and plays it off as a lame joke. Eddie, on the other hand, doesn’t even think to admit that he likes Richie, not even wanting to contemplate being queer.

So yeah, Bill and Stan get frustrated, and one day, while all the losers are hanging out together, truth or dare comes up, and they play. Obviously, Stan and Bill see the opportunity, but they take it slow, not wanting to force their friends into anything. Bill’s truth to Eddie is if he has a crush, and Stan’s to Richie is if he’d kiss anyone in the room.

Anyways, things are clearly getting heated between Richie and Eddie, both of them giving each other not-so-subtle glances. So, at one point, it’s Stan’s turn to pick someone and it just goes like:

Bev: Ok Stan it’s your turn!

Stan: Guess I’ll choose Richie since he hasn’t gone in a while. Also, dare.

Richie: Oh yeah? What’s it gonna be Stanny? Gonna dare me to blow Eddie’s mom-

Eddie: Shut up, Rich, shut up!

Richie: Aww, jealous Ed’s? I knew you loved me-

Eddie: *face red* That’s not-

Stan: Oh for fucks sake, both of you are so obvious! Richie, I dare you to kiss Eddie

*awkward silence*

And they kiss. And Reddie is canon. Yay!

…

Did I mention that Bill and Stan aren’t together through any of this?

Wait wait wait hear me out. Stan and Bill we’re totally the parents of the group. Stan was the annoyed mom who kept everyone in line and made sure they didn’t die, and if he uses his mom voice you know you’re fucked. Even worse if he uses your full name.

Then there’s Bill, who’s the fun dad, in a way. He doesn’t mind the losers doing crazy things and shit. He helps them when they have a stupid plan (though let’s be real Bill is probably the one coming up with the stupid plans). But he is also terrified of his wife. Which is Stan. Stan is his wife.

So basically, if one of the losers ever gets hurt and it’s because Bill went along with their plan, he knows he’s fucked. And it’s hilarious, ngl.

They also plot to get Reddie and benverly together but I’ll post about that later.

[bllsbailey]

Clueless in Minnesota: Jazz Hands Walz Can't Figure Out Why Billionaire Won When He and Kamala Didn't 😲

Minnesota Governor Tim Walz—he who was plucked from obscurity to be Kamala Harris’ running mate, despite the fact that he was a cheerleader for the George Floyd riots that destroyed huge swaths of his own state's biggest city, Minneapolis, and was not a household name—still doesn’t seem to understand why his ticket lost.

Said ticket got absolutely creamed in the November elections. Trump-Vance won the popular vote and the Electoral College. "How in the world did we lose to a billionaire or a venture capitalist when we were making the case of a country attorney and a high school teacher?" the onetime assistant high school football coach wondered in an interview with Minnesota Public Radio Thursday. 

Walz made the point that he thought the fact that he wasn't rich should have appealed to voters and seemed confuzzled that folks didn't hear his message. Note: It's not his message that's the problem, it's him:

Dancing Tim just doesn’t get it:

"How in the world did we lose to a billionaire or a venture capitalist, when we were making the case of a country attorney and a high school teacher?" he asked later in the interview, contrasting his ticket with Trump’s. Walz made the point that he thought his more humble economic status should have appealed to voters, and seemed puzzled that wasn’t the case. "And I thought that would be something people say, ‘Well, this guy knows where we’re coming from. He’s had to pay his bills and still does,'" he said, referring to himself.

The "Walz Effect" After Spending Like Drunken Sailors, the Harris Campaign Is STILL Begging Supporters for Cash

Tim Walz and Wife's Remarks in MN Show Exactly Why We Rejected Them

This sort of sums up the creep factor that is Tim Walz and his weird wife:

Walz prattled on, saying, “This is the one that keeps me up at night, is I focused my whole career in focusing on the middle class… And it seemed like a lot of good ideas were coming from the Democrats."

But what he and Kamala and Biden failed to understand is that the rampant inflation under their watch -- caused by the Harris-Biden overspending regime -- devastated the middle class. All those wonderful woke promises kid sound great until you can’t afford dinner.

Remember when: Chris Cillizza Drops a Damning Thread on Tim Walz With the Perfect Word to Describe Him

Tim Walz and Wife's Remarks in MN Show Exactly Why We Rejected Them

Tim Walz was a terrible pick and summed up the Kamala trainwreck campaign in a nutshell. What was she thinking? (Apparently, very little).

This dude has no clue, and I’m guessing we will not see much of him in the future as he is relegated to “remember that guy?” status.Howard Dean, anyone?

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Mabel’s All-in-One Guide to Being a Shooting Star: How to Avoid Being Caught and Other Tips You Should Know

Chapter Three: Not Dipper

A big ol thank you to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

He’s so tall and handsome as hell; he’s so bad but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins.- Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

Warmth.

Warmth and safety.

Those were the first things Mabel noticed when she woke up for those few brief seconds, the first things she could recall feeling. She was too tired to open her eyes, and her head was freaking killing her, but there was warmth seeping into her skin like melted butter into bread, and something smelled remarkably good.

It wasn’t a familiar smell, not by any means, but she found she liked it quite a lot. She turned her face towards the warm, smooth fabric the scent was coming from, nuzzling it happily with a small smile.

It didn’t help her killer headache, of course, but her bed or whatever it was, it smelled goooooood, and she was all for it.

She felt as if nothing could touch her, there in that little bubble of delicious-smelling warmth, and she wondered idly if Dipper was around, because she only ever felt so happy and safe when she was with him.

When had she seen him last, again? Mabel couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything, really.

Oh well. Whatever. She was warm. She was safe. She was comfortable. She was happy. She smiled again, just a little bit, as her thoughts faded when she lost consciousness again.

She would not be so content when she woke the second time.

———————————————————————

There was a throbbing in her skull. An intense kind, particularly in her temples and behind her eyes. It hurt worse when she opened her eyes, and it took them several rapid blinks to adjust to lights that were actually quite dim, but with her concussion headache, they seemed ridiculously bright against the blue ceiling.

“Yeesh,” she muttered, sitting up on the… was that a chaise? Yup, okay, that was definitely a chaise. She’d never even seen one in person; those things were for fancy people. Mabel had always been many things, but fancy most certainly wasn’t one of them.

Anyway, she was sitting up on the super-duper fancy chaise, her hands supporting her. “My head, what in the…” Dammit, her wrists and arms hurt, too, those were, ugh, were those rope marks? They sure looked like rope marks.

There was a sound nearby when she spoke loud enough to be heard, but Mabel’s head was throbbing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear much of anything. She massaged the skin on her wrists, trying to get the soreness to dissipate. It didn’t.

And then the whole thing came rushing back.

Shit. Was she married to the gnomes now? Was that gonna be her life? No, no, it was fine, gnome marriage wasn’t legally binding, she didn’t think, and even if it was, it wasn’t legal for somebody to marry a whole bunch of people at once, and it definitely wasn’t legal for that somebody to be an unwilling participant. Therefore, any marriage contracts they may or may not have drawn up were null and void, legally speaking. Which meant she needed to escape. Which meant she needed to figure out where she was.

Wait, what about the blood-gnome? What was up with that? Or, shit, the floating glow-dude! What the heckity hecking heckfire was going on with that shiz?

Suddenly, out of nowhere (or perhaps not truly nowhere; she just hadn’t examined where she was just yet, as she hadn’t looked up), a pair of arms wrapped around her, and her head was squished against a very masculine, yummy-smelling (the same smell as before, actually! What a lovely coincidence!) chest. Mr. Hugglebus reached up and threaded his fingers through Mabel’s hair, holding her head against him.

“Mabel,” a voice whispered, like its owner couldn’t believe he was getting to say her name. It was familiar, but also very much not, and Mabel was, like, off-the-charts levels of confuzzled. “Mabel,” the voice said again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

It was hard to think with the pounding in her ears, but she did her best to ignore it.

She had bigger things to deal with than a headache, no matter how nasty it was.

“Wh- whoa there, friend,” Mabel said shakily, putting her hand on his chest and pushing away from him lightly. Mr. Hugglebus pulled back enough for Mabel to get a proper look at him, and…

Wait.

What?

“Dipper?” she gasped. He said nothing. “What is up with your hair, man?” she laughed. “Or- or your getup, like! What? You goin’ to a fancy party or something? No, no, wait!” she was giggling, and it hurt her head, but it was just so goddamn good to see him she didn’t care. “Okay okay, I know! You’re doing, like, a knock-off impersonation of Gideon, right?” He furrowed his brow, annoyance filling his ice blue eyes.

But… wait. Ice blue eyes? Dipper has brown eyes. They were identical to hers. She knew this. She’d stared into those stupid-beautiful eyes of his a bazillion and one times. She knew her bro bro’s eyes, aight? She knew those suckers. This guy, though. This guy was different. Like. Different different.

“Are you… are you Dipper? ‘Cause like. The Dipster I know won’t even wear color contacts for cosplay purposes, and those eyes ain’t blue naturally, so…”

It was several moments before he finally spoke. He was gazing at her with this weirdly intense look in his eyes (holy crap, those eyes, they were so pretty, nobody’s eyes should be allowed to be that freakin’ blue) she’d never seen on anyone before.

“I’m not… your Dipper,” his emphasis the ‘your’ was strange, condescending, as if he loathed saying it.

She scooted away, her back hitting the arm of the chaise.

All she could think about was a gnome drenched in blood, babbling in terror before exploding violently.

”Then who are you?” she whispered, eyes wide.

He smiled, and not unkindly, either. It was… strange. It was a kind smile from someone who didn’t look like such things came to them naturally. It was nothing like her twin’s smile.

Nothing like it at all.

It did something to her insides. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t know how to interpret or name.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, keeping his distance, his legs twitching as if he wanted to get closer to her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said, not believing him in the slightest. ‘Cause. Like. The blood-gnome. Had that been him? Had he done that? She hadn’t seen it, but in retrospect, it totally made sense for him to have done that somehow. “But who are you?” she asked again.

“I’m something of an… alternate version of the Dipper you know.” The more he spoke, the more she found his voice to be different and strange. Plus, he looked so similar to Dipper, but Mabel only ever saw her bro’s birthmark once in a blue moon. This guy had it front and center, and his hair was slicked back, and she lowkey wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like. His voice was deeper than Dipper’s. More monotone, too. It was bizarre.

It was… it was attractive, is what it was. His look and attitude, the whole shebang, it was just insanely attractive. Wait, no, no! Mabel thought to herself. It’s cool, Mabel girl, you’re all good, everything’s a-okay, it’s just that he looks like your bro, alright? No big deal. Well, okay, you shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts about your bro, either, but we’re well past that.

“Alternate… version…?” Wait. Shit. Maybe he was… “Are you the anti-Dipper?” She whispered frantically, trying to back away more as if her back wasn’t already firmly pressed against the armrest. “There’s tons of different versions of me, I know that, but I’ve never seen another version of Dipper, and you look just freakin’ like him except for your whole… style and general demeanor, I guess, so-“ she was trying to get up, but holy hot pockets, that was some serious dizziness right there.

Moreover, was there another Mabel in this universe? She hadn’t seen another Mabel in years. It’d be… interesting to see one again. Wait, shit, if he was the anti-Dipper, there was the anti-Mabel somewhere around there, and Mabel was not at all confident she could currently best the anti-Mabel in a fight. And something told her the anti-Mabel wasn’t exactly one for fighting fair and waiting till she was ready. She wasn’t the meme-worth Inigo Montoya, and this wasn’t The Princess Bride.

Dammit.

Wait, he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. And she’d definitely never met him before, she would’ve remembered a fancy, older version of her bro, which could only mean he was talking about the other Mabel. Had something happened to her? Had she left, maybe?

“I’m not,” he cut in quickly, moving towards her slowly, like she was a feral cat ready to book it at any moment. “I’m not the… anti-Dipper, or whatever it was you said.”

She looked around. They appeared to be in some sort of dressing room. No, wait, it was Gideon’s dressing room! Except it wasn’t, because Not-Dipper was there, lounging on the ultra-fancy chaise as if he owned it, which he might very well have done, because Not-Dipper didn’t exactly look like he was a broke college student.

He looked like he used hundred dollar bills as tissues like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland.

Still very much fighting the urge to attempt to GTFO, as the kids say, Mabel turned back to him. “What are you, then?” He blinked for a moment, as if he were surprised, and then she belted out more questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? You don’t look like you’re the same age as me, which is weird if we’re kinda-sorta-pseudo-twins. Why am I here? Where even is here? How-“

“Okay, let’s do this properly, shall we?” He tilted his head when he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards in another one of those strange smiles that did something to Mabel’s insides. “One question at a time,” he said, holding up a long, slender finger. “You can ask me anything you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. However,” he crossed one leg over the other, his foot dangling off his knee, the arm closest to her draping casually over the back of the chaise, “for every question I answer, I get to ask one of you in return. You don’t have to answer me, of course, but if you choose not to, that’ll be the end of our little game,” he paused for a moment. “For the time being, at least. Sound fair?”

She nodded hesitantly. She could stop at any time, right?

“Go ahead, then,” he waved the hand that dangled haphazardly over the chaise.

“What’s your name?”

“Mason William Gleeful, but I’ve always been called Dipper,” he said easily, as if he’d been fully expecting that very question.

“Because of the birthmark, I assume,” Mabel was very careful not to phrase it as a question, not to raise the pitch in her voice at the end of her sentence. She didn’t know how he’d react if she asked two questions in a row.

“A fair assumption,” he agreed with a slight nod and another one of those smiles. Ugh. Could ya not, man? Like, for real, Mabel thought. His smile was most definitely not helping her nausea. “And your name? Your full name, if you would.”

“Oh, um,” was she seriously forgetting her own name? Jeez, Mabel, get it together, he’s not Dipper, get over it! “M- Mabel Caroline Pines,” she managed to stutter out.

“Pines, hm? Interesting. Alright then. Shall I go along with your other questions from before, as well?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering about your last name,” he raised his eyebrows at her and motioned for her to continue. “There’s a sort of… psychic, I guess is what you’d call him, in my universe, and he has that last name. Is that… I mean… we are in what looks like his dressing room, so…”

“I did shows here,” he said quietly, a strange look in his eye, as if he wasn’t seeing her despite looking right at her. “Once upon a time.”

“Oh. I see,” she squeaked out.

His gaze sharpened on her again, and he was moving closer to her, and Mabel tried to back up further, her sneakers scrambling against the fabric of the chaise. Eeek way too close way too close back the fudge up, man, what are you even-

“Why were you in his dressing room?” He was right in front of her face by that point, like waaaaaaay too close, ‘cause their noses were almost brushing and she could see each individual eyelash, and god his eyes were even more startlingly beautiful up close, and she wanted to reach up and touch-

No no no no, bad, bad Mabel, he’s not your Dipper, this is a different version! she told herself firmly. No touchy!

“We gave each other makeovers,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice even. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she got mildly defensive. “I was twelve! He was… I dunno, ten or eleven! Jeez!” He chuckled at that, then leaned away from her, satisfied with her answer, she supposed, and resumed his previous position as if he’d never moved from it at all.

As if he hadn’t just sent a chill down her spine that was… not altogether unpleasant, which was significantly more concerning than it would’ve been if she’d hated every second he’d been near her.

She pursed her lips and put it from her mind. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” he said easily. “And you?”

“Nineteen,” she told him quietly, surprised at his age. She glanced at the foot he’d balanced on his knee.

His shoes were fancy, too. Everything about him seemed to be. “Not what you were expecting, I see,” he observed from her expressions. Damn her and her expressive face!

“Well, it makes sense, because you certainly look older than… than my Dipper.” Her voice shook on the word ‘my’.

His hand clenched into a fist.

She didn’t know what to think of it. Was he angry, or did it mean nothing?

“But it also doesn’t make sense, because if it’s a parallel universe, we should be the same age, I would think.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Not-Dipper reasoned. “In some universes, time moves at different rates, from what I’ve gathered. In our case, it’s the same, but it seems I was born earlier. I was born in 1993, whereas you were born in…” he thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “1999.”

“Oh.” She’d never noticed that when interacting with other Mabels. Perhaps it was simply because she was too preoccupied with not dying. It had seemed rather urgent at the time.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “So, your questions,” he reminded her after a few seconds of silence.

“Right.” What had they been again? He kept looking at her, she had to get him to stop doing that. It was distracting. His eyes were distracting. She couldn’t think when they were in her, dammit. Oh! That was it! “Where are we?”

“My universe. I found you with and brought you here through a portal,” he stuck a hand in his pocket. “If you meant the locale, however, as I said before, this was our-“ he cut himself off, took a breath. “My dressing room until several years ago, when I stopped performing.”

“I… see,” she said slowly. So where was the other Mabel, then? Shouldn’t there be a fancy, blue-eyed, properly Adult™ version of herself somewhere? She looked around the dressing room (holy crapinoli, she didn’t think she’d ever seen so much blue in one room), but there were no signs of a woman anywhere. There were no perfume bottles or makeup on the vanity, no dresses on the clothing rack, nothing.

How strange.

“Why were you in Gravity Falls?” He asked.

“To get away.” Helooked at her questioningly. Did it count if it was an unspoken question? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t risking it. “I needed an escape. College can be… stressful.”

That wasn’t the full reason, of course, but she wasn’t lying, either.

“Interesting.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. How could a person’s fingers be pleasant to look at?

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You needed help,” he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He winced slightly when he did, but just a bit; the change in expression so minor she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “However did you find yourself kidnapped by gnomes, of all things? Gnomes who wanted you for their queen, no less.”

She looked away. It’d been a long time since she had fought against anything but class schedules and exams she wasn’t prepared for.

“They… caught me off guard,” she told him quietly. “They tried something similar when I was a kid, but they lost. It never occurred to me that they might try again.”

“Gnomes are persistent little things,” he mused. “They dislike losing, and they are quite stubborn. It stands to reason that they’d try again if you’d beaten them before.”

“What… what did you do?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “To the gnomes, I mean. Unless, of course, I’m misremembering, because there is every chance I am, what with the concussion I very likely have and all, so if I am just say the word, but it seemed pretty dang clear that-“

“I killed them,” he said bluntly. His face was bored, disinterested. Apathetic, even. It didn’t even seem to be bothering him. How could it not be bothering him? Unless…

Unless he’d killed before.

The human brain could get used to just about anything if given enough time.

“You- you killed them,” her voice was horrified, she knew. She could hear it in her tone. Yeah, she’d wanted to get away from them, she’d wanted them to leave her alone, and maybe she’d even wanted to give them a good whack, but she hadn’t wanted them dead.

“Of course I did,” he sounded surprised at her reaction. “They hurt you. They were going to hurt you far worse.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I know that. But that doesn’t give you the right to just… you can’t be someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. That’s not right.”

“I only did it to save you, Mabel.” She had only heard Not-Dipper say her name once before.

It was different than when Dipper said it. Maybe it was because Not-Dipper’s voice was a little deeper, a little smoother-sounding?

“You weren’t safe. Not in your universe.” His eyes were burning, which was strange since they were the color of ice. “I can keep you safe. I will keep you safe.”

“Ummm… that’s cool and all, but that’s pretty freakin’ unsettling, to have somebody just, like. ‘Splode a bunch of gnomes for you,” she eyed him warily, still trying to figure out how to get away from the dude without crawling. Would he get angry with her for not being appreciative? She didn’t want to see him angry. Would he hurt her?

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he told her quietly, his voice a little sad.

She almost lied and told him she wasn’t scared of him, that everything was hunky-dorey, and that he should smile.

She didn’t.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have, I dunno, made people explode in front of me?” She was being sarcastic, she knew, and that was probably a bad idea, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

“Gnomes aren’t people, technically,” he reminded her.

“Semantics,” she waved his argument away. “They’re living creatures. Or they were, anyway, before you decided to go and massacre them.”

Not-Dipper had a look on his face that suggested he wasn’t opposed to killing living creatures, whether they were human or not.

Maybe he already had.

Mabel hoped he hadn’t, but something in the way he held himself gave her a sneaking suspicion that he had.

“I’m sorry if that… bothers you, or if it scares you. I don’t want to make you feel those things,” he sighed. “That said, I think it’d be best if I were up front with you: if put in the same situation again -if you were in danger again, that is to say- I’d do the same thing.”

She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and glared at him. “Take me home, please.”

There was panic in his eyes. “I- I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The portal… it doesn’t work like that. I’ll have to find another way to get you back,” he explained. She was still glaring at him when he continued. “But for the time being, you can stay with me. If you want,” he turned his body to face her for the first time since he’d hugged her.

“Well. I suppose that’ll have to- WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” She was pointing, horrified, to his shoulder, where one arrow, perhaps about a foot long, was embedded in his shoulder. Another was in his side, the one that had been facing away from her. Blood had seeped through to pool around the entry wounds, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His eyes followed her shaking finger.

“Oh, right. I got shot with a couple of arrows. Just gnome ones, though, so they’re quite small,” she dropped her hand back to the soft fabric of the chaise.

“Okay, so you saved me, and you got hurt doing it,” she was saying this to herself, staring at her knees and speaking as if he couldn’t hear her when he could absolutely hear her. “Okay. Okay. This is fine, this is fine, Mabel girl.” She looked back up at him. “Okay, let’s go… wherever we need to go for you to treat those… yeah…”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll take you there.”

He helped her to her feet, and she still found herself a bit dizzy, wobbling a bit.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he offered, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“Carry m- say what now?”

“I don’t mind, particularly if you’re having difficulty walking still.” As if that explanation was adequate! Why was homeboy cool with it at all, though? She’d gotten a hella nasty gash on her leg once in PE, can ya guess how many people offered to freakin’ carry her to the nurse? Zero, is the answer. Zero.

What a weird dude. And Mabel was in love with her gay twin brother, so if she, of all people, thinks you’re weird, then you are weird.

“Nope!” she squeaked out way too quickly to sound even remotely close to being normal. “I’m good on the carrying front, thanks! Got it covered!”

“Suit yourself.” Ugh why, why was he smiling that smile again, it reminded her of Dipper and also not, and it made her nervous as all hell. “This way.” And with that, he promptly strolled out of his dressing room, clearly expecting her to follow.

[insolitus-academy]

Application villagers

♚ // Face Claim Full name Face Claim: Bill Skarsgård Group/Band/Occupation: Actor Nationality: Swedish Faceclaim age: 32

♚ // Character ; Basic information

Quote: “Water was just.. oozing out of my eyeballs like I’m some alien creature excreting fluids.”

Full name character: Alastair Zay Demor Nickname: Al Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Mirror Realm Age: 28 Date of Birth: 06.06.1994, presumably. Who really knows? Gender: Male Preferred Pronouns: He/him Race: Mirrorwalker Sexual Orientation: Very confuzzled What is the level of Korean and how did they learn to speak it (For non-Korean characters from other realms & other earth-countries): Al is fluent in multiple languages, but his Korean isn’t perfect.

♚ // Character ; Appearance

Skin Color: Pale Eye color: Bright green Scars: Scars on his back from obsessive scratching Piercings: None Tattoos: None Hair color: Dark brown Abnormalities: None Horns/ wings/ etc.: None Transformed form: Can’t exactly transform his looks other than in the reflection of a mirror, has minor abilities of altering the reflection.

♚ // Character ; Personality

Six personality traits:

Curious, Ritualistic, Dependent, Amoral, Oblivious, High-spirited

Likes: Tight spaces, romcoms, stand-up, bugs, collectives Dislikes: Bossy people, Strong clean smells, bright lights, flies, cats Manias: Kleptomania Phobias: Kenophobia; fear of big open spaces Animal: Cockroach Religion: None Favorite song: "You are my sunshine" cover by The Phantoms Vice: Greed Virtue: Diligence

Personality description: Alastair's first memories date back to when he was a teenager and he's never had anyone truly there to guide him. All he remembers is being alone until he began to believe he never truly existed. He's let himself observe others for too long to consider himself a person too, and having lived most of his life in the shadows, Alastair lacks in the socialization department. A part of this is his inability to recognize body language and tones clearly and he struggles to display emotions on his face since he isn’t exactly sure what’s connected to which emotion.

It doesn’t make him a saint though, whether he realizes the consequences of his actions or not, everything he has learned has been through observing others and watching TV, which are both a bad way to try and develop a moral compass. Although his actions oftentimes stray to the more sinister side, he holds some innocence to him. Simply put, his mind is less developed than people his age.

♚ // Character ; Powers

Magical Powers:

Mirrorwalking: can walk through mirrors he's looked into before and access mirror realm

Mirror illusions: Alastair is able to create illusions in the mirrors, although it cannot hurt anyone, he enjoys scaring people

Non-magical Powers:

He’s very crafty when it comes to solving everyday problems. He might not be the brightest of a bunch but he’s a handy problem solver.

Is able to do construction work, though don’t trust him too much with it

Is able to handle pretty much any sight or smell that grosses out most people. Now that’s a real power.

Weaknesses:

Broken mirrors: once a mirror he's looked into has been broken, he cannot access it anymore

Forced to appear in a mirror when his name is spoken three times, has no control over it

Cannot read or write very well

♚ // Character ; The Villager

Job/Occupation: Shelf stocker in Vighulir’s grocery store Lives in: Vighulir Lives in: Sunna Apartments - 2f

♚ // Character ; The Past

Date of Birth: 06.06.1994, presumably. Date of Death: None Crime Record: Breaking and entering

Has your character attended Insolitus Academy in the past? No

Background:

THE NEWS READ: a man has been found living inside the walls of an old apartment building, now to be demolished….

There was something fascinating about humans he just couldn’t figure out. It seemed to get him into a lot of trouble. Isn’t it odd how they left out the fact they had caught him and taken him to the station?

Let’s rewind: It was late 2000s when Alastair began his craft. Although scaring people through mirrors was an enjoyable activity, it had never been enough for him; he wanted more. He wanted to perform a real haunting. To him, it was nothing but an experiment anyway. Alastair was only a teenager when chose an old house in the middle of nowhere on a countryside in Wales, an easy start for a twisted hobby. First, he sneaked into the basement. There he made his home. Little by little he began to roam the house, checking all the mirrors and the elderly couple had plenty, so he could start his haunting.

The police became regular visitors of the house, but the elderly couple could never prove what they had seen. They thought someone had broken in, and someone had, but he had mirrors on his side. He would appear from the shadows when one looked in the mirror, twist his face, appear to be dripping blood like the ‘oh so famous Bloody Mary’, far too dramatic for his own good. It got to a point where the elderly couple was threatened to be taken in because of illness of the brain, incapability of taking care of oneself or each other.. and in the end, the husband did leave the house and went to a facility. That was, when Alastair, quite literally, scared his wife to death. Without meaning to.

But that wasn’t where he had been found and arrested. The house in Wales never became a big deal, it was claimed to be haunted and kids tried their luck there now and then, but he had already moved on. He settled down again much later, to an apartment building, with much more experience. The building was designed for what he wanted to do and he could work on it through the years: he began with living in the attic. The attic was cold and lifeless, lacking people. Too cold for his liking, he began to expand his project. Built walkways along the walls, just tiny enough to fit him. It was almost comforting, being in a space where he could hardly breathe.

He grew attached to one apartment in particular. His girlfriend’s apartment, that’s what he told himself at least even if he’d never spoken with her. It didn’t stop him from dreaming up conversations between them though, and believing they were true. She was a beautiful blond girl in her early twenties, into the ‘60s-70s music; the very bubbly music that sounded grossly happy. He grew to like it whenever he heard it coming through the walls -- and well, he ended up liking everything she liked. That’s why Alastair was devastated when she brought home another man, but he wasn’t completely crushed; Samantha was his and his only. The stranger must have been insane to think he could come between what they had. Instead of taking his anger out on her, he began to drive the man insane; appeared in the mirrors and scared him any way he could, trashed his thing all over the apartment while he wasn’t there, moved his stuff around until he couldn’t take it anymore and dumped her.

He tended to roam her apartment whenever she wasn’t home, stole food from her fridge, watched her favourite movies, and listened to her records. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, he’d whisper each night when the lights in the apartment went out and he was left in the dark between the walls. You make me happy when skies are grey. It was one of her favourite songs.

The day came when he was listening to music with the volume turned up while the young woman’s neighbour knew she wasn’t home, and she was informed about the noise. She called the police to check in on a possible break-in. Alastair tried to escape between the walls, but he was caught before he could. It was then when they found his lair within those walls. He was put into handcuffs and dragged to a police station where he escaped through the two-way mirror of an interrogation room. The building was going to be demolished in a few years anyway due to poor condition and continuous bug and rodent invasions but after his project was found, the building was deemed compromised and had to be torn down.

Alastair spent what felt like eternity in the mirror realm, lost and alone, devastated that he’d lost everything he had built for himself. Most of the mirrors people had had in the apartment building were left behind and destroyed and he couldn’t return there anyway in fear they’d arrest him again. An antique mirror survived though, and it was sold overseas all the way to Korea. When he saw an unfamiliar view through the mirror, he knew it was his way out of the coldness of the mirror realm and into the land of the humans.

[oofmattel-blog]

Both it and stranger things please for the last ship you posted please!

are you the one that i shipped with bill ?? (i’m just a little confuzzled, don’t worry 😂)

[dadflux]

Been working on this pretty much all month and it's finally done! I took the rock and roll element of Bill & Ted and just went nuts with it, resulting in these two crazy fluffs bringing the rawk!! I'm excited for Confuzzled now! Featuring my loving partner and roommate for CFz, Wibble.

[fcrmata]

.

[writelikeitsyourlife]

Bill started out walking. La dee da; a little walk to see what the matter was never hurt anybody. The cord in hand, Bill inched closer to what he perceived the end to be. His perception, however, was false, and he ended up turning a corner where more wire extended after that.

Bill reverted to jogging after that. The sooner he got this over with, the better. The sooner he realised what the hell was the matter with this extension cord, the better. He ran faster and faster until he was panting for breath. Fighting for a single gulp of oxygen to forced down his pipes. It was only a minute he stopped, still not at the end, but Bill felt as if precious time was wasted. He could have reached the end by then! He could have figured it out!

But a minute further of light jogging cured him of that belief.

It wasn't long until the jogging morphed back into a walk. Powerful strides pushed onwards, intent on satisfying the growing curiosity within him. Bill had several ideas of what could be on the other end, yet neither of them were plausible. The question, could this be the reason behind my absury high electric bill, passed over his mind, it answering both 'yes' and 'no' seemed just as impossible to Bill as the other ideas swimming around in his brain.

Eventually, he dropped the cord entirely. It was far more simple to just follow its path on the ground rather than hold it the whole remaining distance.

Bill was worried. Night had fallen, seven miles had passed under his trainers, and yet no destination. No plug at the end of this journey! He couldn't decide whether this was a beyond-elaborate, borderline-evil prank or solely a very improbable happening he just so happened to be the main beholder of. Whoever it was, Bill grew more impatient by the moment.

Three days later.

Sleep deprived, but motivated.

Annoyance levels: high. Arousal levels: low.

A part of him consider giving up; dropping the quest was a favourable outcome. His pride could not allow it though. His stubborn streak his mother had always teased him for growing up would not allow it. He came this far, there wasn't a chance for abandoning it now without answers.

In the last stages, Bill dropped to all fours and began to crawl. Exhaustion pushed at his back with the force of a ton of bricks. Yet he persisted. Some moments, he stumbled and fell. And most of those incidences were followed by ten minute naps, which he awoke from in a dazed sort of hurry, all sputtering and confuzzled. He'd blink a few times, catch sight of the cord, let his brow contort in angry determination, and pull himself onwards.

Soon.

So soon.

So close...

And he killed it.

Bill was in an all white room, the only non-white portion being the steel door frame at the end. The door was a black alloy Bill could not name. On either side were slim windows that, together, would make a window about the size of the door itself. Clutching the handle, Bill jiggled it.

All this way and the door was locked.

Weakly, he banged his fists on the door. It hardly made a sound. He tried the window. A hollow reverberation - like a twang or a warp - sounded. Any joy that had filled him moments before dwindled away.

Nothing.

So, he turned and left.

Curiosity could not motivate him much longer; the exhaustion had taken up the reigns instead. No longer did he care more than the want to sleep in a proper bed for longer than a handful of minutes.

Had he stayed not even another ten second afterwards and tugged at the handle usslessly, he would have figured that it wasn't, in fact, locked. He would have realised that the handle was only jammed. But more importantly...

He would have finally discovered the reason as to why his power bill was so high.

For beyond the door of mysterious alloy, beyond the literal wall of blankness that stared back at him through the windows, there was a cord stretching upwards to a gigantic ball of plasma.

He was powering the sun.

A man receives an absurdly high power bill and finds an extension cord that might be the cause. He follows it around the world until he reaches the end.

[thelastspeecher]

agent-jaselin replied to your post “Stan-at-Home - Chapter 1: Welcome to San Diego”

Really great. Ford is so confuzzled. I kept rolling my eyes at his inner monologue though. Like give your bro a break you knucklehead. Also loved Stan being a good dad but still acting very Stan like. I'm rolling my eyes at him too though. If he just told his wife everything when he got the call he might have avoided the couch.

I wonder why Stan was so determined not to tell Ford about his life though. It makes sense in the other direction because they don't know his past. But it would only show Ford that Stan's successful now, so I wonder why the secrecy. I also kind of wonder why Ford didn't panic and insist he couldn't sleep, but I suppose that's just because he's so tired and than shocked by the children that he didn't think to.

Yuuuuup.  Stan doesn’t always make the best decisions.

As for Stan being vague about his life, hmm.  Those are some good questions that I’m thinking will get a an in-depth answer in the next chapter.  The thing is, yeah, Stan would want to brag about his life (and he definitely does in the next chapter).  But Stan’s got some complicated feelings.  This is the first time he’s talked to his twin in over ten years, and it wasn’t something like “so what are you up to, how are things”, it was “come to Oregon to talk to me”.  Which y’know.  Sucks a bit.  

And even tho Stan’s proud of his life and his family, he knows how Ford views him.  Stan is the wild twin.  He’s not supposed to settle down.  And even if you’re successful, if you’re not successful in the way you planned to be (in Stan’s case, a womanizing treasure hunter), it’s a bit embarrassing to someone who knows your original dream.  If that makes sense?

I’m rambling here; I’ll have a better explanation in Chapter 2 for why Stan was vague.  Bc that’s a question Ford has, too.

And yeah, Ford was too out of it to argue.  But the reason for Ford avoiding sleep (Bill haunting his dreams) is another thing I’ll address in the next chapter.

And thank you!