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a-simple-imagine · 29 days ago

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Don’t They know a Rabbit Can’t Cry - a life once lived

synopsis: ye olden era. The reader is sick so Agatha and Rio look after her but it begins to cause tension between the trio

pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader x Rio Vidal

Words: 5.1k+

A/N - you don’t have to read this to follow the main story it’s just me writing whatever I want. This can also be a stand alone. I have a few ideas as to why the reader might be immortal but I can't decide which one I prefer??

WARNINGS - Sickness, brief mention of blood and dying. not period accurate

The luminous sun and rhythmic chirps of overhead birds should have made for the backdrop to a lovingly peaceful afternoon. After days held up in her stuffy cabin, you had pleaded with Agatha to let you go outside. She agreed, eventually, when you convinced her that it would be good to get some fresh air. So the two of you (mostly Agatha) set up a homemade blanket of a deep maroon colour by the side of the lake. Agatha sits reading some dusty old book she's been obsessing over for the past two days. Her legs make for the perfect makeshift pillow as you bask in the warm rays of bright sunlight; drifting. A faint throbbing in the front of your skull. A rattle in your chest with each careful breath. Body heavy. Tired eyes search for hers as you shift somewhat, making sure she knows you are awake.

"how are you feeling?" a question you hear far too often as of late. A soft groan slips into the air as you wrap your arms around her waist. Burying your face in the fabric of her skirt. It was warm. Fresh. Comforting. a faint floral scent that tickles your nose. "oh, sweet girl," a hand comes to trace lightly over your back. "should we head back?" in truth, you probably should but being inside was driving you crazy even if most of your time was spent sleeping.

"no," answered quickly, muffled against her clothes. "I like being out here,"

"I know you do but the chill on the breeze will do nothing for you," Agatha explains. "you should be warm in bed."

"I am plenty warm," it wasn't a particularly cold day. Signs of autumn were only just starting to show. Green leaves beginning to morph into beautiful reds and yellows. A slight cold beginning to infect the wind. Daylight grows shorter. Agatha was right though. The chill was affecting you more than you cared to admit but your stubbornness outweighed her use of logic. "a while longer. please?"

A few stray pats on the back as the older woman gives in. "fine but just until the sun begins to set." the deep blue sky suggests that sunset wouldn't be for a while now so you agree to her terms. Stifling a yawn, you look up at her but her attention is already back on that stupid old book. Bound in a strange leather jacket with symbols you don't understand the book is rather small in size but from this angle covers her face. The pounding in your head becomes a little less intense as you adjust to the bright light of the waking world. You try not to move around too much but your body seeps with discomfort. Shuffling against the blanket, your eyes drift towards the lake. Minuscule waves twinkling in the daytime light. It was slowly becoming too cold to swim these days. Not that you would feel up to it even if it wasn't. It does make for a nice view during picnics or moments of rest.

"What are you reading?" you question, poking the bottom of the book with your pointer finger.

"do you actually want to know or are you merely seeking attention?" her book lowers revealing her twinkling eyes. You debate telling the truth.

"I would like to know," you offer a slight smile. There's a short pause before the book lowers so you can see the pages too. They're yellowed and bent but eligible.

"it is about old magic and healing runes," your finger traces the large symbol on the right page before flipping it over. Even now the idea of magic was still new to you or more so the fact witches weren't ugly, evil women who worshipped the devil and practised dark magic. Agatha possessed magic, rio too; neither of them seemed particularly evil and they were some of the most beautiful people you've come to know.

"healing runes?" you repeat. Smile fading somewhat, you look up to Agatha through your lashes.

Agatha nods a little. A delicate smile. "it is quite interesting. You may read it next if you like. Although I know you prefer stories of fantasy." she closes the book, resting it on your chest. "what is wrong?"

You shake your head. Such a subtle change in expression, you are surprised she even noticed. "I am just tired," she watches you. And for a second you think she is about to push further but alas the subject falls to the wayside.

"As long as you're sure"

There is a moment of pause before you nod. Agatha returns to her book and you adjust so you're staring out ahead of you both. A sense of guilt mixed with an already unsettled stomach. "Agatha," your voice hushed. Almost like you don't want her to hear but she does.

"yes, bunny?"

"do you think I will get better soon?"

"of course."

"do you promise?" you glance up at her but she is once again hidden behind those pages.

"you will not rid of me so easily"

"not sure you have a choice in the matter," but lips curl into a smile. "I hope Rio returns soon."

"as do I," Agatha agrees ultimately setting the book aside when she realises she's not gonna get silence from you. "she can be your pillow for a while."

"do you not wish to bring me comfort?"

"I wish nothing more," Agatha admits, a hand brushing your cheek. "I just would also like feeling in my legs."

With great exertion, you push up. Haze clouding the front of your head. "if I am a bother you can just say,"

"do not push yourself," Agatha expresses. "I speak merely in jest."

"I am sorry for being such a burden."

"you are no such thing."

"but you would tell me if I was?" Agatha nods but you still doubt her words. She was much too kind to admit such things. At least to you anyway.

"rest, my sweet, I am fine."

You lay back down, getting comfortable once more. "can you sing something?"

"Like what?"

You shrug. "anything. Surprise me." her body shakes with a chuckle before her voice fills the space. It's light. It's joyful. It's... "pitchy."

She taps your forehead gently. "if you want me to sing you must keep those comments to yourself." a little chuckle, quickly killed by a cough.

"Sorry. Please continue." and she does. It is a melody you don't recognise. Words you have never heard. But they're soft. Gentle. And wrapped in enough feeling to let your mind drift off.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since you had first fallen ill and yet you continue to suffer. Normally it would go away rather quickly. Whether naturally or with the assistance of magic. Nevertheless, Agatha tried using her magic but it didn't help. Healing just wasn't her speciality. Rio was much better at it but she had been away working for a long while now. You know with each passing day you grow more tired. Even on days when you feel a little better. The day is a little brighter. You know deep down it is temporary. But tomorrow will be worse. After every up comes a seemingly even worse down. Agatha worries for you. She pretends not to. Hides behind frivolous songs and bowls of soup you struggle to keep down but it's there when she thinks you're not looking. It's evident in her small sighs or the fade of her smile. Eyes that look at you like it very well might be the last time. You agreed to stay inside today. Largely too tired and achy to face the outside world. So instead you stay snuggled up in bed while Agatha goes about her day. You're uncertain of the time when you wake again. Weary eyes reluctantly opened to a much too bright cabin. Your head aches. Your limbs hurt. A muted groan as you nuzzle against the pillow. And then you hear her. Agatha. But she's not alone. Another voice that you would recognise anywhere. You rub your eyes as you force yourself up.

"Rio?" a meek inquiry comes out before a chesty cough that shakes your whole body. "you... have returned?"

Rio moves to sit at your bedside. "to see you,"

"you should be resting bunny," Agatha walks up behind Rio. "did we wake you?"

You nod slowly. The pounding in your head was only made nastier by the movement. "you were arguing?"

They glance between each other and then back at you. "how are you feeling?"

"I am fine," you declare, "happy you have come home."

"hmm," she seizes your chin with her hand pushing your head from left to right. Eyes boring into you. "you are lying."

"I am not," you try to shake out of her grasp but it hurts and you can't disguise it. "just a little tired."

"Oh," her grip a little tighter. "so Agatha is the liar? She tells me you have fallen ill."

You shrug a little. "maybe,"

"If it is just resting you need then," Rio lets go, "then sleep."

"But you have just come back," you insist. "I am fine. promise."

"bunny," a clear firm tone advising you to not overdo it. You sigh softly, laying back down.

"I am sorry I didn't have flowers waiting. I have not felt up to it,"

Rio laughs, standing up and tugging the covers back over you. "sleep."

You shut your eyes. Curling up into the warmth of the bed. A stillness envelopes the room. "Rio, will you still be here when I wake?"

"of course," she ensures. You focus on sleeping. Their voices are now but a whisper it's hard to make out their conversation. You periodically hear your name. It matters not.

It hurts deep and sharp in your stomach dragging you from your restless sleep. A cry crawled up your throat. Your eyes open to darkness. It's late. Agatha sleeps beside you. Rio on the other. "bunny?" a tired voice, as Agatha sits up in bed. You collapse into her arms; seeking comfort and her skills. "I got you." this wasn't the first night you had woken up feeling like your stomach was going to explode. Such strong cramping and nausea bring tears to the eyes. The only relief came from Agatha using her purple. She holds you close to her chest. Rocking back and forth slowly. "You are okay."

"what's wrong?" Rio's voice comes later. Less urgency. Waking up a little later.

"help her," Agatha demands

"I can't- what do you want me to do?"

"soothe her," Agatha instructs. "I used my purple already and have not been able to leave her alone."

"Agatha,"

"Rio," she shoots back. "it is simple. There are no rules against this." she shoves you away from her and nausea settles in your stomach. You haven't consumed anything today so there was nothing that could come back up. It would just be gross and toxic. "lay back down. Rio will help make it better," she doesn't wait for a response. A hand against your chest lowers your back against the bed. They exchange a look. "just place your hands on her stomach. Please." Rio eventually does as instructed. Her hand drifts gradually over your lower stomach. A tingling left in its wake, the pain fading. You roll onto your side and seek comfort in Agatha once more. She wraps you up in her arms. "is that a little better?" you nod against her. "do you want me to rub your back?" and again you nod. "do not empty your stomach over me like last time," it makes you smile a little. Agatha shuffles down the bed so she's lying down too. Allowing you to rest against her side. A gentle hand running up and down in slow motion. "go back to sleep, my love."

"how long has this been happening?" rio wonders.

"Long enough," Agatha answers. "you should rest too. She will be fine until morning."

When you wake up the next day, their absences are notable. Your head feels fuzzy but you're grateful that your stomach has resolved at least a little. "Agatha," you call out but instead rio arrives at your bedside, a cup in hand.

"Agatha has gone out," your brow furrows.

"out where- when will she return?" you haven't been without her for a couple of weeks now and the idea unsettles you.

"calm yourself," Rio murmurs. "she'll be back soon enough, now drink,"

"no," replied sharply.

"you must,"

"I do not want to,"

"it will make you feel better,"

"no," you shove her hand away, and some of the liquid slips over the edge. "I don't want any. Where is Agatha?"

A sigh from Rio, "It was Agatha who insisted you must drink some,"

"I do not want it," you huff. "it always comes back up,"

"a small sip and we can be done,"

You watch her before snatching the cup. A small sip of tea. It's warm and earthy. Like drinking soil. You cough as it goes down before handing the cup back. You fall back against the bed and snuggle into the covers. "can we go for a walk?"

"I don't know if that is a good idea?"

"a short one. Just to the far side of the meadow?"

Rio agrees. It's easy to get your way when you're sick. She has a supportive arm around you the whole way letting you collect flowers every now and then. They always looked a little brighter when Rio came home. Like they grew just for her. Once you felt you had enough, she brought you back to sit on the front porch. A blanket draped over your shoulders to protect you from the chill. Each flower is carefully laid out in front of you. Rio is sitting in Agatha's chair. Bouncing a leg and seemingly carving some wood with her blade. "Will Agatha return in the morning?"

"I do not know," Rio responds. "do you not like it being just us?"

"I do, it is just strange being here without Agatha," you express. "this is her home."

"it is our home," Rio corrects. "I just have to travel."

"I know," you reply, glancing at her. Rio was always back and forth in a way Agatha never was. Everything about this place you have come to associate with Agatha and Agatha alone rather than Rio. It was Agatha's chair that she always sat in to have her morning tea. "I hope she returns soon."

"not even a full day without her and you already seek her company once more?" there was a playful edge to Rio's words. "do you miss me as easily?"

"I always miss you," you answer. Each flower was carefully laid out before you. Organised by colour rather than type. You pick one up a purple one. Twisting it between the pads of your forefinger and thumb. "But it is different when Agatha leaves because it is a surprise. What if something happens? I am too ill to assist."

"I will deal with anything," Rio answered back. "I am capable of being left alone and looking after you. Besides she will not be long."

She will not be long? That could mean anything. days. Weeks. Months. You couldn't go months without seeing Agatha. "why didn't she tell me she was leaving?"

"she did not want to worry you. It would not serve you well," Rio explains.

"sneaking away is not better," you huff, stems of green now crushed.

"I am just giving you an explanation," you glance at the wood shavings that surround the other woman. So messy. "I know as much as you." a heavy sigh. There was more to this than they were willing to share but you don't push. Settling for the explanation Rio shared. "are your parents not worried?"

"they do," you hum. Of course, they are worried. "but they trust Agatha as a healer."

"they don't know the truth? Agatha is no healer."

"they would trust Agatha regardless," you explain. "we spend most free time together."

"I forget you two are inseparable," Rio muses softly. Almost sadly. You wouldn't exactly say you are inseparable but you do spend a lot of time together. It made sense. You had lived a pretty sheltered life at home in the woods. The nearest little village wanted pretty much nothing to do with you outside of your business. You only really went to visit the bakery or haggle for supplies. More often than not you're met with dirty looks and hushed whispers. Mean-spirited comments on a bad day. Agatha gave you company outside of just your family. She was beautiful and caring and wanted to spend time with you. She didn't think you were weird or strange but then again she was what a lot of people feared. The only difference between your relationship with Agatha and your relationship with Rio is time.

"you are never here,"

"you exaggerate,"

You shake your head just a little, focused on the crown you are making. "I do not, I-" A tickle in your throat brings a cough from deep within your chest. Loud and dry. Painful. It seems like maybe it'll pass as you grab the handkerchief Agatha insisted you always carried. It was ivory white with hand-sewn stems of green and pretty flowers lining the edges of each corner. But the tickle persists. Spreading through your throat; any attempt to avoid resulting in watery eyes. Rio is immediately knelt by your side. A curious brow. "you okay?" probably not. Giving into the dire need to rid yourself of the feeling in your throat. Each cough builds with a sense of desperation. Raw and dry. Burning from the inside. a much-needed moment of respite seemingly out of reach. You can't stop. A hand slapping against your back is unexpected; it was forceful but not enough to hurt. An attempt to help. The green witch repeats the action a few more times. A body starved of air. It helps. Profound breaths as your eyes flicker to Rio. Wide eyes convey a semblance of concern to her otherwise calm demeanour. Fist tightens around fabric now stained with tiny dots of red and shoved out of view. "we should get you inside."

"I... am fine..." you lie between breaths. You were no better off inside than out. It was merely an attempt to get you back into bed. It's not like being inside was helping in any way.

"That was not fine," Rio insists. Her hand still rests on your back.

"Rio... please..." fixated on the flowers. An almost finished crown. A moment ruined by this unexpected illness. You breathe deeply. Leaning in, the other plants a kiss delicately against your temple.

"Agatha would kill me if something happened to you." whispered against the skin. Warmth shivering through your veins.

You reach for her arm, carefully pulling it away from your body. A shaky small smile on your lips. "it is okay." even with reassurance, you can sense her reluctance to leave you be. A sign she cared too much. Returning to her spot in Agatha's chair not too far away, you can feel her eyes still on you. Watching and waiting. You are grateful Agatha was not here right now to make a fuss. She worries over every little thing. She also probably would have dragged you back inside if she had to. Silence falls as you return to your hobbies. Just a little too uneasy to speak in case another coughing fit occurs. However, with silence comes uneasy thoughts. Thoughts about Agatha leaving you alone with Rio. A sickness that just won't stop. A green witch forced to look after you. "rio?" she just hums some kind of response. "can I ask your opinion on something?"

"If it is about your crown then I will be biased," she urges. "I always like it when your creativity includes flowers."

"it is about Agatha,"

"Is she all you ever talk about?"

"I am serious," you reply.

"what about Agatha?"

"do you think," a moment of hesitation. "she grows tired of me? Is that why she left without saying anything?"

"where does this come from?" rio wonders. Fingers fiddling with the leaves plucked from flower stems. "you are her most precious person,"

"that is not true," it makes you laugh a little. Compared to her relationship with Rio, yours was just a drop in the ocean. You also weren't anything like them. Rio was teasing and confident. A force of nature you weren't sure you would ever figure out. Agatha was commanding but caring. She had a real nacht for making you feel like the most important person in the world. Not to mention they were both witches. They could do remarkable things. You felt like a burden to both of them regardless of your sickness. "she has you."

"she does," Rio agrees. You tear the edge of the leaf pulling straight through until you're left with two parts. "but that does not make you any less than. Why would you think otherwise?"

A shrug of your shoulders. Tearing the rest of the leaf up into tiny pieces and sprinkling them on the ground. "I am not like you. She does so much for me and now she must do even more because of this stupid illness," it wasn't your fault you had gotten sick but that didn't stop you from feeling guilty. So much time was spent reading books about healing. Or making special teas of different soups. Even just ensuring you're comfortable was a challenge that wasted her magic. "she must grow tired."

"you will be better soon."

"you do not know that. Agatha does not know that. I am not even sure I believe that anymore," With a soft sigh, you pluck a petel from its flower. So small. So soft. So delicate. "I wish I could make things better so she does not have to waste energy worrying about me."

"my love," Rio comes to sit beside you on the porch. She takes the plant you have been destroying from your hands. "It is not wasted."

"easy for you to say" you snap. A bitter tone. Rio does not understand. How could she? You get that she has to work and it's important to her but still. How could she possibly understand what it's like for Agatha? or even you? "You're never here."

An arm snakes over your shoulders allowing Rio to pull you against her. and despite your attitude, you melt into the embrace. Your anger is such a confusing emotion. You wish she was around more. You wish you weren't such a burden for Agatha. You wish you weren't sick anymore. A deep breath, you find comfort in the other woman's earthy scent. The way she cradles you against her side. A soft kiss was placed upon your head. "eres todo para mi," whispered against you before she pulled back. "we just want the best for you. This sickness will not last forever."

"so you say," s soft sigh. One way or another this will end but you might just not be around for the latter. A silence settles. Rio is content with sitting on the floor beside you now as she works with wood. You have no clue what she is making. You continue to fiddle with flower stems and small twigs. Weaving them into a beautiful circle to wear. You have had a lot of practice.

"it grows late. We should head inside." you brush yourself off as you stand. Offering a small smile. "for you," the crown of flowers placed gently on her head before she stands too. "I hope you will stay for a while this time."

A gentle smile. "remember how I said I would always return if you will it?" rio reaches for your hand, placing something small and hard in between your palm and hers. "I am grateful you called." her hand slips from yours and she heads for the door. You glance at what she gave you. a small rabbit made of creamy-coloured wood. It was a little jagged in places but no less cute. "come," Rio calls. She stands in the doorway waiting. "I will make us some tea."

Agatha does not return in the morning nor the one after. Rio has been on the receiving end of your bad attitude. Everything was just off. Tea a little too hot. Soup a little too thick. You know it's not her fault; your anger is misguided but irritation was more abundant when your body ached. A constant reminder of how much you just wanted Agatha to return. You missed her dearly. She knew how you liked things. She was much more tender than Rio and that's what you needed when sick. Tenderness. a gentle touch. Rio was trying but it was just grating. It is almost a week before you see her again. She brings all kinds of things with her but mainly herbs. And most importantly her magic. Her purple. She explains that the reason behind her trip was to recharge. Whatever that means. You didn't quite understand how it worked. However, the older witch's return may bring more attempts at comfort. More tea with supposed healing properties. But it does not bring better days. Your sickness seems never-ending. Seeping into your bones. Aches in every muscle. a raging fever. Short little sips of water every minute or so are the only thing that doesn't make you nauseous. Agatha still makes you tea but it's rare you ever drink it. Most days are now spent in bed drifting. Agatha does not dare leave again. Instead sending Rio off on silly errands.

The sun hangs low in the sky. The light in the cabin beginning to dim. You sit upright in bed, cradled in Agatha's too-tight embrace. Her grip on you was bruising. Almost painful. They were arguing. Again. that is all they seem to do these days. The constant back and forth makes your head hurt. You have tried to get them to stop and sometimes they will at least while you are awake. Today is different though. The air feels heavier. Suffocating. Take deep weighted breaths that rattle your chest: your lungs burning. Agatha feels different too. Angrier. More aggressive. Desperate. Rio walks closer, handing over a cup to Agatha.

"This is too hot, she will not drink," Agatha shoves it back. Rio sighs heavily. She could do nothing right these days according to Agatha. Everything was wrong. Her tone is ever so harsh.

"it will cool in time,"

"you could just do it right in the first place," Agatha mutters quietly. "leave it to one side. I will retrieve it later."

"fine," there is silence fora wink before you hear the door. "I am going to tend to the gardens. I will return later." you feel a breeze against your cheek. Cold and brisk. "the mint should be ready."

"no," Agatha urges. "I'm sorry, don't."

"I won't be long. The mint will do her some good."

"you must stay," Agatha insists. "I... I cannot do this alone."

"Whatever do you mean?" if it's a genuine question, it's undercut by an overly sarcastic tone. It was understandable. A breeze cut off by the closing door. "you did not want my help before. I can do nothing correct."

"please rio... just stay," Agatha squeezes you gently and you look up to her. "I... I worry for her."

"I know but-"

"no," snapped. Her grip somehow tenser. You cough a little. "you don't- you do not understand. I fear she needs more than I can give her but you..."

"Agatha," there's a tenderness to Rio's voice despite Agatha's tone. "you know I cannot."

"you have the means to help her,"

"it is forbidden,"

"And since when were rules your priority?" Agatha shoots back. "you share this home with me- this relationship with us. Does that not go against everything?"

"it is not the same thing," Rio responds calmly. "and you know that,"

"It matters not," Agatha sighs. "Rio, please. She gets worse each day and you're the only one who can do anything."

"my love-"

"Don't!" she cautions sharply. "I do not want to hear excuses."

You nuzzle against the older witch's chest,a weak groan. Willing her to quell the arguing. "Agatha," mumbled softly from your lips but she did not pay you much attention even as you tugged on the fabric of her blouse.

"Rio, please," anguish in her voice. You feel the bed dip.

"Agatha. You cannot expect more than I am capable of," Rio's voice was closer now. Agatha's body shifts moving you with her in the process. It's sudden. Makes your head spin.

"do you not value her?" Agatha questions. "lover her?"

"you know I do,"

"then do something- anything," Agatha pleads. "what use is your power if to not help the few who care for you?"

A hand comes to your forehead. It's cold so it must belong to Rio. "she is weak."

"I know," Agatha nods a little. "I- I cannot lose her Rio."

"but the end is not guaranteed." her hand shifts lower, thumb skimming against your cheek. "there is still a chance.”

You begin to drift again. Listening to Agatha's heart beating in her chest. A soothing sound. "leave," Agatha huffs.

"my dear-"

"Now," Agatha snaps. "go... tend to the garden since you care so little." Rio doesn't argue. And doesn't defend herself. You feel her rise from the bed and then the breeze once more. A loud band and suddenly you are alone with Agatha. Her body relaxed as if she had been guarding you from Rio.

"I am sorry," you express gradually. Your voice but a whisper into the early night. "it is my fault you are fighting."

"do not say such foolish things," Agatha hums. "Rio is persistent. She cares more for her duty than anything."

"her duty?"

"I am sorry I cannot heal you," Agatha replies. "I have tried everything but-."

"you do not need to apologise for anything," you interrupt. Tears beginning to form. This was all your fault. You cannot get better. You cannot stop them fighting. And now Agatha blames herself. You never wished to bring hurt to either of them. "maybe if I rest some more, I will get better."

"I am..." she lets out a shaky breath. "sure you will."

"Agatha?"

"yes, bunny,"

"Do not hate Rio," you express warmly, shutting your eyes as you nestle against the older witch. She is trying her best. And sometimes that is not enough, but at least she is trying."

// NEXT

#agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harness x rio vidal #agathario #agatha all along

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ckret2 · 11 months ago

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Chapter 39 of human Bill Cipher is SURE he's about to escape being the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Ford's confronted with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he's a little bit too obsessed with Bill.

And meanwhile, Bill has found a way to reach his loyal cultists... if he can find somebody willing to help him make contact.

He thinks Ford is the perfect target.

Maybe, just maybe, the obsession goes both ways.

(warning for an incident of self-harm via burning, and depersonalization and/or dysphoria (depending on how you interpret it) re: Bill feeling even worse about his body than usual.)

####

Soos, Stan, and Ford had stayed up half the night trying to generate enough NowUSeeitNowUDontium to prevent it from vanishing the moment one of them lost (or gained) focus. They'd eventually given up and stayed the night in Northwest Manor. Soos had texted Melody around midnight, and she'd immediately replied (which alarmed Ford, but Soos assured him she was used to those hours) and agreed, with some trepidation, to spend the night by herself in the shack so that the kids wouldn't be alone all night with Bill. She'd texted a half hour later to report that the bathroom was a disaster, but the kids had reassured her it was just some werewolf thing, so, not a big deal.

Ford had thought getting to spend a night without Bill under the same roof would be a relief. Instead, he found his sleep was even worse. He kept worrying about what Bill might get up to so far away and out of sight, where Ford couldn't do anything to stop him. Surely, by nighttime, Bill had to have noticed that the only humans he'd seen all day were the kids? Would he consider Melody any kind of threat, no veteran to combating Gravity Falls' weirdness?

It figured that the dream demon would find a way to disrupt Ford's sleep when he wasn't even there.

####

Ford had given up on sleep around two in the morning and gone wandering until he stumbled across a den with walls covered in bookcases, massive windows overlooking the forest below, and a pair of richly upholstered armchairs turned to gaze out the windows. He drifted between the chairs to one of the windows. It was the kind of personal library he'd dreamed of accepting esteemed guests in, back when he'd fantasized about one day being rich and famous. He suspected the Northwests had never read a book in this room.

Ford had been staring out at the still night and the dark pines for several minutes when he heard the creak of a door and soft footsteps behind him. He whirled around, raising a weapon. "Back, you spectral fiend!"

"Whoa! Easy, Sixer!" Stan held up a hand defensively. "It's just me!" He lowered his hand. "Why are you holding up a dinner plate?"

"Er—sorry." Ford sheepishly tucked the silver dish under his arm again. "I'm sure I saw a ghost earlier. I thought it prudent to arm myself."

Stan muttered, "This place sure is creepy enough for it."

"Mm. It's built on more than its fair share of bones." Ford returned to gazing out the window, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm sorry today was a failure. When I'm staring right at an experiment on which the fate of the entire universe depends, it's hard not to think about it."

"Eh, I wasn't doing too hot either," Stan admitted, joining Ford at the window. "There's only so many times you can hear Soos whisper 'Think about the miniature particle accelerator' in your ears on a loop before you zone out and start thinking about fishing season."

Ford huffed. "Maybe we should have switched places."

"Yeah, probably. I retired from thinking about science after I got your dumb portal running, and once you get your head stuck on something you can't stop thinking about it."

Ford laughed wryly. "Unfortunately accurate."

There was a moment of silence; and then Stan said cautiously, "Speaking of you getting your head stuck on something..."

Ford didn't like that tone. "Hm?"

"I was, uh... doing some light reading..." He held up Ford's journal.

A jolt of anger and fear shot through Ford. "Give me—" He snatched the journal back.

It wasn't until it was in his hands that he registered the absurdity of his own action; for the past year, he'd given Stan free access to Journal 5. He'd used it to document their travels and discoveries as a reference for them both; he'd even asked Stan to contribute a couple of entries. Based on a prior precedent of seven months, Stan had every right to look at Journal 5. Revoking that access now was... Well, it didn't look good.

Stan didn't immediately say anything. Ford supposed his own actions said enough. He tucked the journal under his arm with the silver dish.

Stan cleared his throat. "I think we're a little past the 'superhero nemesis' thing."

"It's not a problem," Ford said tersely.

"Not a prob—? Ford, you're letting him consume your life."

"He's consumed all our lives. The kids haven't been able to invite anyone over, Melody all but runs to her car after work, you ended up in a showdown with fae nobility—"

"It was just the tooth fairy!"

"Do you know how important a fairy has to be to claim dominion over all teeth?"

"Forget about the fairy!" Stan waved off the whole fairy topic with one hand. "Look, I'm not the one who's dedicated half a journal to talking about him!"

"You don't keep a journal, Stanley—"

"That's not the point!"

"—I'm just saying, if you did keep a journal, I think he'd have come up on more than a few pages—"

"But like this?" Stan gestured toward Ford's journal. "This is turning into an obsession. And not one of your normal obsessions."

The back of Ford's neck heated up. He wanted to argue that he had to obsess over Bill if he hoped to find a way to kill him—but Stan already knew that Ford had passed off that project to Fiddleford weeks ago. "How can I be 'obsessed' with somebody I barely even see? I'm avoiding Bill like my life depends on it! I talk to him less than Mrs. Ramirez does!"

"And you're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private!" Stan gestured again, angrily, at Ford's journal. (Ford defensively tucked it further under his arm.) "You're acting like a stalker, Sixer. Not that I care about him, but, I'm starting to worry about your head."

"A st—?! I'm a scientist, he's a scientific curiosity! I'm documenting him! I document plenty of things!"

"Not like this, you don't."

"There's a lot to document!"

"Including spending a whole page trying to figure out—how to draw his—?!" Stan gestured furiously toward his boxers.

Ford pointed at him severely. "You were just as curious as I was to find out how a giant eyeball and a sentient triangle make that work, don't pretend you weren't."

Stan grimaced. "Okay, fine, I'll give you that one. But writing a full entry about his posture?"

"He's not only an alien being in a human body but a two-dimensional creature in a three-dimensional body, how he moves and gestures could tell us about how an utterly unfamiliar species perceived space! Nearly all his gestures adhere to an invisible coronal plane, that betrays worlds of information about his original anatomy. Do you know that elbow thing he does when he walks—"

"Ford. You're using your great-niece to get drawings of his childhood bedroom."

Ford raised a finger. "That's—" Ford lowered his finger. Ford sat in a nearby armchair, put his chin in his hands, and stared into space. "What am I doing."

Stan patted his shoulder.

Ford slid his journal and the dish out from under his arm and settled them in his lap. He stared at the cover, then thumbed through the pages. It was obvious when they'd returned to Gravity Falls; the drawings of Atlanteans, were-rats, shorelines, and boats immediately gave way to page after page of staring slit-pupiled eyes.

"It's just... Bill is an ancient being, many times older than our universe, and the last surviving specimen of his own bizarre species. As both an anomaly and a source of esoteric knowledge, he's an invaluable subject of study. He's going to die soon, and he should die, but... between now and then, I don't want to pass up the last ever opportunity to study him."

Stan sank down into the chair opposite Ford. "You're listening to yourself, right?" He didn't sound angry anymore, just worried. "This is a guy who tried to kill us. He isn't a 'specimen' you can add to your collection of weird stuff, you know that, right?"

"I know, I know." That was exactly why it was so important—why it seemed so important—to capture Bill in words and pictures before it was too late. (It was funny, Ford thought, how Stan's very first conversation with Bill had been a murder, and yet he was the one who talked about Bill like he was just some guy; while Ford had spent so many years obsessively trying to find out who Bill was that he'd almost forgotten he was a person instead of a terrible idea.)

"When execution day comes and you think you haven't dug up enough of his history, what'll you do? Give him a stay of execution until he's dictated his memoirs to you?"

"No," Ford said immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just taking advantage of the opportunity to learn what I can, while I can. It's no different from your 'shopping trip' at the mall—"

"Hey!" Stan pointed a finger at Ford. "Watch it! That was strictly business! It's not like I'm attached to the guy—"

"I didn't mean anything by it! I just meant—as long as we're stuck with Bill, make him useful, and—and to heck with him after that. Right?" Like Stan had said about the scratch cards: why throw away free money just because of the source? "He'd do the same to us."

Stan hesitated. "And you're sure that when the time comes, you'll be ready to pull the trigger?"

"I know I will. It won't be the first time. I'm just glad that this time I'll be able to aim at his own head."

"Hm." Stan didn't look convinced.

Ford sighed. "But, if I think I'll waver—I'll hand you the gun."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I promise."

But he knew he didn't need to.

####

Soos drove the tired gang home just past dawn, early enough for him to open the Mystery Shack on schedule.

"Soon as we get home, I'm going back to sleep," Stan muttered crankily. Ford—eyes shut, leaning against the window—nodded in agreement. Stan yawned, "And there'd better not be any nasty surprises at the shack."

####

Bill sat sleeping in his attic window seat, knees to his chest, leaning against the window, ear pressed to the glass.

Outside, Stan wailed, "My car!"

Bill's eyes snapped open. He smiled.

He ran to the kids' room, knocked on the door—"Hey, the bigger Pines are back!"—and bolted for the stairs.

####

Soos got the door open at the exact same time Bill stumbled off the stairs and collided with the living room doorframe. Bill grabbed the doorframe just long enough to steady himself, and then bounded over to the door, shoved Soos and Ford aside, and leaned out onto the porch. "HIYA, STAN!"

Stan whipped around to face Bill. "YOU!" He gestured furiously at the wizard graffiti on his car. "WHAT did you DO to my CAR!"

"Do you like it?"

Stan let out an inarticulate scream of rage.

"Oh, you love it!"

"You massacred it! I've had this car forty-five years! I've done things in this car I can't say! And it's never, never been so—so—violated!"

Grinning ear to ear, Bill said, "What do you think of the girl wizard?"

"The what?!" Stan circled the car. He screamed again.

"Uh-huh?"

"Why does she have a beard!"

"Go on," Bill said gleefully, "tell me what you think! I want the full review!"

"This," Stan said, "is the most ugly, hideous, terrible—"

Bill glanced back at a sound on the stairs. "Oh, hey Mabel! Get over here!" He gestured proudly as Mabel joined him in the doorway. "And here's the artistic mastermind herself!"

Stan choked on his words. "—b... beautiful, stunning, museum-worthy work of art I've ever seen."

Mabel beamed. "It's not finished yet, we ran out of some colors! I was going to add a dragon on the hood!"

Stan's face went white. "No no, it's... perfect the way it is. Don't—don't change a thing."

"Really? You're sure? I don't mind!"

"Really." Looking slightly nauseous, Stan said, "I love it just like this, pumpkin."

Mabel squealed and ran outside to give him a big hug.

Bill was fighting back silent laughter so hard he almost fell down.

####

"...And I still haven't found any sign of the Nightwigglers," Dipper said, sighing dejectedly and dropping his journal on the counter next to the cash register. "So, I dunno, maybe I should give up on this one and move on."

Wendy was sitting back with her feet kicked up on the counter, but she straightened a bit to look at Dipper's journal. She skimmed the news article he'd paperclipped to one page. "Oh, I heard about this," she said. "The cops talked to me about the first burglary. I was in the thrift shop that day."

"Oh, yeah?" Dipper pointed at the picture next to the article. "Did you see anything like this?"

Wendy's eyes widened. "No��but I think one of my brothers did."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, he was talking about it a couple nights ago. He said it was like an armless white thing wearing pants that went up to its face. We all thought he got spooked by a deer butt or something and made up the whole story. Then dad said we should drop it and told us we should stay in at night."

"That's when they come out! At night!" Dipper laughed excitedly. "Do you think your dad knows something?"

"Pfff, not if he can help it." Wendy pulled her feet off the counter and checked the clock. "I could show you the start of the trail my brother was on. It's like ten minutes by bike and the next big tour bus isn't getting here for half an hour, wanna sneak out?"

"Are you serious?! Of course!"

"Just promise you won't tell Gus if we find something. We've been making fun of him for days and I don't want to admit he was right." Wendy laughed. "Let me grab somebody to cover."

"I'll get my bike!" Dipper was already headed out the door. "I've been looking for a lead for days! I dug through half the dumpsters in town searching for their nests..." The door swung shut behind him.

Wendy ducked into the living room. "Hey Goldie."

"Yello?" He was sitting cross legged on the couch watching TV.

"I've gotta do something with Dipper, do you mind covering for a little bit? Just twenty, thirty minutes."

His gaze flickered to the TV, then back to Wendy's face. "Sure! Anything for you, cool girl."

Wendy had a brief, eerie sense of déjà vu. She shook it off. "I'm not interrupting anything good, am I?" She nodded at the TV.

"Naaah, it's one of those terrible specials about pyramid conspiracies." He shook a cider can, "I'm taking a sip every time they mention Fishmasons or 'ancient dinosaur-worshiping civilization.'"

"Dude. You'll be wasted before the first commercial break."

"Really, you're saving me from myself." He set the can on the TV and followed Wendy into the gift shop. (As he did, Bill checked to see if he had anything on under his hoodie. No? The Pines didn't want him to be seen in public in his hoodie; they thought it would make him "too obvious." He rolled up the sleeves to hide some of the brick pattern and surreptitiously tucked the hood and the bow tie drawstrings into the collar.)

As she headed out the door, Wendy repeated, "Just twenty minutes! Thirty tops. I'll get back before the next tour bus, promise."

"No problem!" He waved her off.

"I owe you one!"

Bill made a note of that.

He looked around the gift shop—any readily-obvious mischief he could get up to? He grabbed an 8-ball cane and took it to the counter. And then he took the stool behind the register, propped his chin in his hand, gazed toward the living room, and resumed watching TV through the wall and backwards. He didn't miss hearing the conspiracy talk—he was sure it was actively making him stupider—but credit where credit was due; they made those CGI pyramid models really hot.

A cutaway of one pyramid showed its internal tunnels and chambers. Bill bit his lower lip. Oh yeah. That's what he came here for.

Several minutes went by. The door opened and a lone tourist crept in, a middle-aged woman with a sun-damaged tan. Bill straightened up and switched his eye patch over to hide his bleeding eye. "Heya! Next tour's in..." He checked the clock, how long until the next bus? "About fifteen minutes."

The woman nodded and quietly started circling the gift shop.

Bill glanced toward the living room, decided he'd better not start damaging his other eye too, mentally cursed the tourist, and pulled out one of Wendy's magazines to read. "Let me know if you need anything."

The tourist spent several minutes making a slow circuit of the room, and then crept up to the cash register. Bill looked up with a smile, didn't see any souvenirs in her hands, and asked, "Can I help you?"

Hesitantly, the woman said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Bill's eye flew wide open, his heart leaped into his throat, and his breath hitched. His gaze roved over her exposed skin until he spied a tattoo on her right arm: four triangles stacked atop each other, starting with an equilateral and each getting shorter and more obtuse as they descended, until they'd reduced completely and a single horizontal line underlined all four triangles. This wasn't quite the happiest he'd ever been to see the symbol of a devastatingly self-destructive high-control cult, but it was close. "Oh! Oh, this is—" He rubbed his temples, squeezing his eye shut. "I know this. I rhymed 'red' with 'pyramid.' Why do I give everyone a different code. 'But rises gold over the pyramid'—something like that, right?" Bill gave the woman a pleading look. "I'm close enough that you can tell I know what you're talking about!"

A look of relief washed over her face. "You know him." Voice low, she asked, "Is it safe to talk?"

Knew him? He was him. But he couldn't claim that without proving it—what would convince her?—telling her something that only he knew?—great, but what? Her face was vaguely familiar—he thought he might've given her a visionary dream once—but he had so many little worshipers and they were so unimportant, most of them blurred together.

So all he could do was say, "It's not safe. Everyone here is an enemy."

She nodded sharply. "Where can we meet?"

Bill paused. "We can't. I'm... trapped."

Her brows creased with worry. "They're keeping you prisoner?"

"Afraid so."

"I could get the police—"

"Everyone," Bill repeated, "is an enemy."

She paused, processing that. Bill's gaze flickered to the clock. Wendy said twenty minutes, thirty tops. She'd been gone twenty-two minutes. "Someone's coming any minute."

"Right." The cultist grabbed Wendy's magazine, tore a corner off a page, and grabbed a pen.

"How did you find me?" Bill asked. Of all the tourist traps in all the tiny towns in all the world, how had she come in hereand walked right up to him?

"We were told a devotee was here," she said. "Someone sent the address and phone number to the Bahamian art studio."

Bill's mind spun. How? Who the heck would know to do that? The only person who knew he was here who'd come anywhere close to any of Bill's other worshipers was...

Ford? No. Did he?

The cultist shoved the paper in his hand and turned to leave.

Bill grabbed her arm. "Stay out of Gravity Falls," he commanded. "But stay close. Don't go back to Death Valley." Between the sun damage and the tattoo, she had to be one of his Death Valley girls. She looked like their usual prey: disaffected middle class white woman, probably had a dead end job and a mediocre husband and a useless degree from a liberal arts college. Maybe being able to guess where she came from would impress her.

It did. She stopped and turned back and looked at him in amazement—and then looked at him, staring hard at his eye. "You're... hosting him, aren't you?" Her voice fell to a whisper. "No. Are you...?"

"You got me." He smiled wryly—behold him, electric god bound in flesh, how low he's fallen, but at least he still has his good humor, doesn't he? "I always said you had great intuition." (It was a safe bet. He usually told the ladies that they had great intuition. Most of them ate that up, and the ones that didn't were often a little too savvy to sucker.)

It worked. She inhaled sharply. "You are," she breathed. "I knew you'd be a woman. Oh, Mary's a fool." She said this like she'd just won some years-old argument Bill had missed.

Mary, as in Mary-whom-Bill-had-put-in-charge-of-the-Death-Valley-compound Mary? Ha. She was getting on in years; maybe Bill could start a schism, that sounded fun. He opened his mouth to say something about Mary having great leadership but waning clarity of vision—

—when the cultist leaned across the counter, grabbed his collar, and pulled him into a kiss.

Okay. All right. She was one of those cultists. Got it. Got it got it got it. Wow. Definitely a "mediocre husband" convert, those were easy to seduce away with a little warmth and affection—nothing obvious, but get them infatuated with the idea of an unattainable incorporeal ideal lover and they'd chase him to the ends of the earth. Maybe a lesbian in denial that Bill had decided to push further into denial, if her assumption about Bill's gender was anything to go by. He tried to remember what he'd told this one.

He leaned into the kiss.

He'd done this before—in dreams, in puppets—he didn't prefer humans, but he could handle them well enough and earthlings had such pretty eyes. And this body he was stuck in made such insistent demands; a surge of human hormones washed over his brain so powerfully it made him dizzy. She broke the kiss to murmur, "Cipher, my lord—" and he took the opportunity to kiss her eyelid and lie, "I knew if anyone could find me, it would be you." He wished he remembered her name. She tugged his face back down to her lips. She was so eager. Cipher, my lord. Oh, it felt good to be revered again—

The door opened. "Um?"

If Bill had had one ounce of his power, he would have killed Wendy on the spot.

Instead, he seized his cultist's hands, ripped them off his hoodie, and shoved her away. "Whoa, lady! What do you think this is, a kissing booth?!" He laughed angrily. "We don't offer that kind of service here! Either get out, or—or buy a souvenir already!" He pointed at Wendy. "From her. Not from me."

Shocked, the cultist turned toward where Bill was pointing; and then turned back, understanding in her eyes.

Wendy raised her hands defensively, grimacing. "Yeah, no, I'm not serving you either. Just... get outta here."

The cultist met Bill's gaze for just a moment, then walked quickly out the door without a word.

Bill shouted after her, "And do not come back!" and quietly mourned as, for the second time in as many weeks, he had to watch helplessly as he sent away his only hope of getting any action/rescue.

"I am so, so sorry," Wendy said. "I leave for like ten minutes and you get one of the nightmare customers."

How Bill loved nightmares. "Twenty-five minutes, but who's counting."

"Psh, shut up." Wendy reclaimed her post behind the counter. "I think she's been here before, she looks kinda familiar. You okay?"

Bill hoped nobody else in town would recognize her. "I think I'll live after some mouthwash. Terrible breath." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Hey, remember when you said you owe me one? You really owe me."

####

All his cultist had written for him was a phone number. Bill slid his stolen journal from its window hiding spot and copied the number down in two-tone dots and dashes. Plaintext transcriptions were usually tricky, given the vast difference between the language Bill wrote in and the languages humans used—but numbers, at least, were easy. Everyone had numbers.

And then he stared at the scrap of paper, reading the numbers over and over, until he was sure he'd memorized them, just in case he ever lost the journal.

And then he ate the paper.

And then he stacked the two cushions of his makeshift bed on top of each other, planted his face in them, and screamed.

Cipher, my lord. It had felt so, so, so good to be revered again.

His organs twisted with touch-hunger and loneliness.

####

Out in the Bahamas, along the southwest edge of the Bermuda Triangle, were two nut job hermits from Miami. Bill had convinced them that the only way they could purge their sins and purify their souls was by sculpting and selling golden avatars of God into which they could pour their guilt, and they had to keep doing it until they no longer felt guilty (and they would never not feel guilty; they needed so much therapy that Bill had ensured they'd never get). And then he'd convinced them that God's true face was an Eye of Providence in a top hat and bow tie.

Over the years he'd lost a little control over those two—in their desperation to be free of sin, they'd also started sculpting avatars to as many gods as they could find and selling them en masse to afford more art supplies—but hey, as long as his face was still mixed in with the rest, fine. Honestly, he was surprised those nuts weren't dead yet.

Somebody in this house had sent his location to them. And in a moment of what Bill imagined was stunning mental clarity, they had passed on that information to the single least dysfunctional pocket of Bill's top cult in the continental United States. Maybe when Bill was back at full power, he'd drop by the hermits' dreams to tell them they'd finally achieved absolution and could rest. Their decades of out-of-control scrupulosity would probably prevent them from believing him, but hey, he could say he'd tried. He washed his hands of all responsibility over them and their mental illnesses that he'd knowingly deliberately exacerbated for his own benefit. Not his problem.

But the question he came back to, over and over, was who had talked to them.

Bill needed to reach his Death Valley cultist. He needed a phone. Every phone in this house was well-guarded. No one would let him touch one... except, perhaps, whoever had sent the SOS on his behalf.

The only person who made sense was Stanford. Bill didn't think he'd ever told Ford about the nutty sculptors; but in the eighties he had given him the mailing addresses of some niche art dealers who would sell tapestries and statues of an obscure one-eyed god to collectors who could appreciate what they were looking at. Maybe Ford had gotten back in contact with them? Maybe he'd told them where Bill was, and they'd passed the information to the Bahamas?

Maybe Ford's feelings weren't quite so cold toward Bill as he'd been pretending.

Bill liked that idea a lot.

Maybe Bill's birthday gift had swung Ford back around to the side of reason—reminded him just how good he'd had it under a muse and mentor willing to teach him anything his nerdy little heart desired. Or maybe he'd always wanted to come back, and had just needed Bill to say it first.

He probably only pretended he hated Bill because they were surrounded by enemies—everyone in the house thought Ford was looking for a way to destroy Bill, what would happen if they knew the truth?

But the truth was there. Bill could almost seize it in his hands. All those moments where they almost talked like they were friends again, before Ford had to stop himself and leave. That one beautiful little word: jealous. And of course, there was the whole thing with the glass pyramid and the "Mysteries" that Ford had passed on—

—to Mabel.

There was another possibility.

As much as Bill would love if it was Ford, Mabel was the only person in the house who acted like she actually wanted Bill alive. Whatever "Mysteries" Ford was teaching her had something to do with Bill, the pyramid made that obvious. Maybe his lessons included the contact information of everyone else Ford knew who knew Bill? Maybe she'd taken it upon herself to call for help?

It was thin. And it was still dependent upon Ford harboring a secret loyalty to Bill that he was passing on to his great-niece. But that was where things stood: Ford was the only person in the house who definitely knew how to reach Bill's followers, but Mabel was the only person in the house who definitely might want to.

And he had to make completely sure of which one of them it was before he asked for a favor.

####

Ford had missed dinner again.

Fiddleford had sent Ford home with a pile of math. All the calculations he'd done to get the miniature particle accelerator to produce Dontium. By his reckoning, that there jar should've filled with Dontium faster than greased lightning; he just plumb can't understand why it trickled in like cold molasses. (His words.) He'd asked Ford to check his work, see if he'd missed something.

Ford was more than happy to help. It was a much-needed intellectual challenge that didn't involve Bill's underhanded birthday gift. Something that would let him feel like he was making progress. And it was comfortingly familiar. He and Fiddleford had spent weeks checking and re-checking each other's math in the lead up to the portal test, before they knew what a horror they were building.

As soon as Ford had gotten home, he'd put Fiddleford's papers in his underground study before going back to bed. Bill had already admitted he could glimpse the future, although Ford wasn't sure how far; and Ford was growing convinced that Bill's ability to perceive "higher dimensions" let him see through walls like they weren't there. He'd begun keeping Journal 5 and other sensitive materials down in his study at all times, hoping that the distance and layers of dirt and rock would keep Bill from peering in.

And when he'd dragged himself out of bed around noon—an embarrassingly late hour to get up, but he had been awake most of the night—he'd grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch, brewed a pot of coffee to take with him, and gone below to get to work.

He'd only worked seven or eight hours with a couple of reluctant breaks in the middle before his head began pounding too hard for him to ignore. He'd been neglecting his exercise regimen the past few weeks, and his back and neck were letting him know. In his thirties, he'd been able to work fourteen hours days and still want to keep going—and that was even before he'd handed his body over to Bill so he could keep working around the clock. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

He dragged himself upstairs after sunset, when the last ambient light from the sky still faintly glowed through the windows. He could make something quick and simple for dinner, go to bed early, and get up early to continue working. He pushed through the door to the dark living room—

"Hello!"

"Gah!" Ford jumped. "You. What are you doing here?"

Bill was leaning next to the door, a dim silhouette with his elbow on the wall and cheek in his hand. Even in the dark, Ford was sure he could see Bill's wicked grin at his reaction. "I happen to live here."

Ford let out an irritated huff. "Whatever you're up to, I don't have time to deal with it. Find someone else to bother." He pushed past Bill and headed toward the kitchen.

It would have been too much to expect Bill not to follow him, wouldn't it? "Aw, c'mon, don't be like that! Would it kill you to act like you're happy to see me?"

"Probably."

Bill's laugh made Ford's shoulders raise up around his ears. Maybe that was the source of his neck pain.

Bill shadowed him into the kitchen and leaned on the table, watching while Ford rummaged through the fridge. "But seriously, Sixer—who are you trying to impress by giving me the cold shoulder? I'm the only one here. You could afford to treat me like a person for two minutes." When Ford slammed the fridge door, Bill smacked it with the tip of an 8-ball cane. "Hey, have my food privileges been revoked? Give me a turn."

How long had Bill had a weapon? Ford snatched the cane from him, but opened the fridge and left it. "I don't consider you a person. I consider you an incalculably destructive force of pure, brutal chaos." He cracked three eggs in a skillet and opened a cabinet for one of the stove knobs they kept stored where Bill couldn't reach them.

"Flattering!" Bill started pulling out his usual nauseating array of condiments: today was sauerkraut, maraschino cherries, mustard, ranch dressing, and barbecue sauce. (Why did he eat like that? Did his species usually subsist on a mostly liquid diet? Was it the flavors—?) "Hey, make me mac 'n' cheese, wouldja?"

"No."

"Fine. Leave the burner on when you're done, I'll make it myself."

"You're not allowed to use the stove."

"Then how about I sit here drinking mustard while you enjoy a hot meal." Bill waved three eggs at Ford. "At least make me eggs too. Zero extra effort on your part. I'll even crack them for you if you want."

Ford gave Bill a dark look; but he supposed, as one of the people who had agreed that Bill wasn't allowed to cook, he was in no position to complain about Bill begging him to cook on his behalf. He snatched the eggs out of Bill's hand. "How do you want them."

"I haven't eaten enough chicken eggs to have a preference. Whatever you'll complain least about doing."

Poorly scrambled eggs it was. Ford shut the fridge and returned to the stove.

Bill sat on the table and crossed his legs in lotus position while he waited. "But really, what do you get out of pretending you can't stand me! We both know it's an act."

Ford gave him a tired, sour look. "Even for you, you sound delusional."

"I know you don't really hate me."

"I could write an entire dissertation and earn another Ph.D. on the topic of how much I hate you."

Ford hated how excited Bill looked by that. "Would you?"

"No! Why would I waste that much time thinking about you?"

"It seems to me like you're already doing that."

The hair on the back of Ford's neck prickled. Surely Bill just meant Ford's research into how to kill him; but his mind flashed to the miniature grimoire he'd spent all his time poring over—the blueprints of Bill's childhood home—the face he'd absent-mindedly drawn in his journal in the middle of the night and quickly scribbled out. Could Bill still see through that face? Had Ford remembered to blind Bill's eye on the blueprints? What about the eyes drawn in his human faces? Did Bill know about Ford's other studies? What did it matter—nothing Ford was doing was wrong. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill's smile slowly widened. "Sure you don't. You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. You might as well lean into it."

You're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private. "I am not..." Wasn't he? You're acting like a stalker, Sixer.

"Oh, Fordsy, come on." Bill uncrossed his legs, slid off the table, and was across the room faster than Ford had expected. Ford instinctively took a step back and bumped into the oven; Bill reached past him to lean a hand against the edge of the stove, inches from touching him. "You're not hiding it half as well as you think you are. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He smirked up at Ford, exposed eye wide and eager, utterly fascinated with him. "And bringing Mabel in on it? I'll have to admit, that surprised me. Can't say I disapprove, though."

Ford couldn't tell if the heat on the back of his neck was from Bill's accusations or the stove. "I beg your pardon?" What was he talking about—their conversation in Portland? The blueprints of Bill's home? (Using his great-niece to spy on Bill, lord, what was Ford doing?)

"Quit messing around! The Mysteries, Stanford. You think I don't know I'm the star of that show?" He poked the center of Ford's chest, "There's no way you joined a cult, you're not enough of a team player! What'd you do? Invent your own cult of one? Mixed a little of what I taught you, a little of whatever you learned out in the multiverse? I know you were asking around about me." Bill chuckled. "You want to keep your little rituals private, fine—I think it's cute, really—just tell me one thing I've been dying to know: how much have you told the kid?"

Ford stared at Bill.

Then he laughed in his face. "You really bought that?"

Bill's smile immediately vanished. "What?"

Ford shoved Bill's hands away. "There are no 'Mysteries.' It was a joke."

Bill stepped back, staring at Ford, brows furrowed. "A...? No," he said. "She's got that glass pyramid—"

"She wanted it because it was pretty," Ford said. "I gave her one since I was throwing them all out."

"That's the stupidest story I've ever heard. Then why would she have brought up the Mysteries!"

"Because," Ford said, "I told her, if you asked about the pyramid, she should make up something to confuse you."

Bill's mouth was open, but no words came out. His face had rapidly turned red. Several emotions flashed across his face in quick succession, from shock to confusion to humiliation to a rage so deep it almost looked like disgust. For a moment, from how Bill's fingers were curling like claws, Ford was sure Bill was about to attack him.

But then he clenched his jaw, backed off, leaned on the table, jammed his fists down against the tabletop, and glared at the floor.

Ford turned back to the stove, grinning to himself. Some of the eggs had burned slightly. Those were Bill's now. "What's the matter? Did you forget that humans can lie?"

Bill didn't reply.

"I'm surprised you didn't expect it. I seem to remember we got you with an impressive whopper last year—"

"Shut up."

"Now you don't want to talk?"

"Now you do?"

Good point; he didn't. If he'd finally rendered Bill speechless, he should enjoy it while he could.

He'd have to thank Mabel later for inventing the Mysteries. Sometimes that girl could be genius.

Ford turned off the burner, put the stove knob away, and dumped the eggs onto two plates. He didn't even bother to keep track of which plate had the burned eggs.

He shot a quick, exasperated look at Bill—he'd sat on top of the table again—and dropped a plate next to him. "Here." He grabbed a bag of bread and looked around for the toaster.

Behind him, voice trembling but low and dangerous, Bill said, "Don't look at me like that."

Ford glanced back warily. "Like what?"

Bill violently shoved off the table. There was an awful squeal of sliding furniture. Before Ford could react, Bill was in his face, grabbing him by his turtleneck, dragging him in, forcing him to look up at Bill.

Ford's peripheral vision was filled with gold. They were so close their noses nearly touched.

"Like you don't remember who I am!" Bill stared down with wide-eyed seething rage. "Your muse!" His voice cracked, "Your god!"

Ford stared up at Bill, speechless.

Then he looked down.

Bill was standing on a chair to make himself taller than Ford.

Ford ripped Bill's hands off his sweater. "You were never, ever my god."

Bill stumbled off the chair, catching himself hard on the edge of the table to keep from falling completely. "That's not true!" He heaved himself back onto his feet with a wince. "You worshiped me—"

"I admired you!" Ford jabbed a finger at Bill's chest. "I respected you! I—I even idolized you, but I never worshiped you!"

Bill jabbed a finger back, "You're splitting hairs! You practically turned your study into a temple to me—tapestries, rugs, statues—"

"Because you said it would help me reach you!"

"And it did! That's what shrines are for, genius!"

"It wasn't a shrine! Not to me."

"You're kidding me! All the money you dropped on that gold-plated statue and you expect me to believe that wasn't an act of worship—"

"Do not. Remind me. How much. That stupid statue cost."

"If you didn't build a shrine for worship then what in the world did you build it for!"

"Friendship!" Ford took a shaky breath in. "I thought... I honestly thought you—you—were my best friend." The air in the room trembled with heat. They were standing too close to each other. Ford refused to be the one to back up.

"I was," Bill said. "I still could be if you'd stop being a moron."

Ford laughed in disbelief. "Which is it, were you my god or my friend?!"

"They're not mutually exclusive—!"

"You can't keep your story straight for THIRTY SECONDS!"

"Don't you call me a LIAR, after EVERYTHING I taught you—!"

"In all the years I've known you I don't think you've told me the truth ONCE—!"

Stan flipped on the lights.

They froze and stared at him. They had their hands around each other's throats. Bill had a foot planted on Ford's stomach like he was trying to get a foothold to climb him. They were both covered in egg.

Stan said, "Could you do this in the morning?"

Ford said, "Sure."

Bill said, "He started it."

"I st—?! You started all of this thirty years ago—"

"Guys," Stan said tiredly.

With some effort, Ford unpeeled his hands from Bill's neck.

To his surprise, Bill voluntarily let go as well. Ford snatched up what was left of his plate of eggs, took the loaf of bread—he had lighters, he could toast it downstairs—and left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went.

Stan was waiting out in the entryway. "Heading to bed?"

"No." Ford shoveled a forkful of eggs in his mouth. "Going to be up late." He was too angry to sleep. He could eat, take a painkiller for his headache, and keep working.

"More research?"

"No. Calculations."

Stan's shoulders slumped; but all he said was, "Suit yourself. Don't stay up too late."

Ford glanced back once into the kitchen. Bill wasn't moving. He sat slumped in a chair, elbows on his knees. He'd pulled on his hood. Its eye stared at Ford.

Ford wasn't about to pity Bill over a performative display of angst. He'd fallen for that already.

He returned to his study and mathematics.

####

Bill stared at his plate of eggs. He mechanically pushed them around on the plate until they formed a perfect equilateral triangle. He scooped out an empty white eye in the middle.

He stood, snatched up the plate, and smashed it on the floor.

They thought he was stupid. They thought he couldn't use a stove if it didn't have knobs, as if he was a child! The humans made it easy for themselves to think of him as a child when they treated him like one, "baby-proof the doors" and "no sharp objects" and "don't talk to strangers." He could show them.

He grabbed the stem where one of the knobs had been removed, and twisted. He heard the hiss of gas under the burner. Everyone was asleep. He could fill the house with gas. It would only take a little push to make a spark and set the entire shack ablaze. In the dark room, he could see the first glimpse of future flames flickering yellow-orange in the periphery of his foresight. No one would survive. Who's your god now, smart guy? He'd rise like a phoenix from his own corpse and he'd tear this town apart.

Where was Mabel?

Was she home tonight?

Bill turned off the gas.

He pushed up his sleeve and pressed the fleshy part of his forearm onto the still-hot burner. The pain burned away his jumbled anger so he could think clearly.

Who cared how the nutty sculptors had gotten Bill's address? He was making good progress on lucid dreaming; maybe he'd astral projected across the country to call for help and forgotten it when he woke up. He'd probably saved himself without even remembering it. It didn't matter. The important thing was that they'd received the message; and now, Bill had friends on the outside. Friends who were on his side.

If he could ever contact them again.

Bill would find a way. He didn't need Ford's help. "Never worshiped you." Ha.

He needed fresh air. Even if it wasn't safe to escape yet, he needed to breathe. He carried himself backward through doorway into the gift shop, pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof—

The trap door was shut. He stared up in despair.

He shot a glare toward the vending machine, and angrily crossed back into the living room.

The air was so stuffy inside the shack. "Never worshiped you." Liar. If it wasn't worship then what was it?

Bill took himself upstairs. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He lay on his makeshift bed curled up around himself, arms wrapped tight across his stomach, his burn pressed hard against a layer of knit yarn, thighs pulled up against his arms. It was a wholly alien position. It felt unnatural and bizarre. This body had curled like this of its own volition. It seemed like the only thing that briefly smothered the ache of emptiness and the hormonal inferno screaming loneliness through every vein. The loneliness wasn't his. He wasn't lonely. This body was.

Cipher, my lord.

He hated this body.

He ached to be revered again.

####

It was two in the morning. Ford sat at his desk, pages and pages of math scattered before him, glasses off, hand rubbing his eyes.

He didn't want to be checking a mountain of math like a human calculator. He wanted to be studying strange magic and researching new anomalies. He wanted to be digging through Bill's grimoire.

He wanted to be awed again.

####

(I've been waiting to write/draw Bill screaming his grief over not being worshiped since literally April. I hope y'all enjoyed! This is one of my favorite chapters so far, I'd love to hear what y'all think!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(*immediately edits post because i forgot the brick pattern on Bill's hoodie*)

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perseruna · 8 months ago

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Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate.

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks.

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ��Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill.

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible.

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one.

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters.

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc.

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it.

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #long post #i do believe that i have an interesting vintage point because ive been in this fandom since the show premiered so some people might not be #even aware of these things when ive lived them and have an archive of them in my head lmaoo #i don't like the formatting of asks when you reblog them so im making this a separate text post

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companion-of-the-dragonmark · 2 months ago

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Is the Light Fury Based on a Book Character(s)? (HTTYD 3)

Warning: Spoilers for those who either haven't read the books or having read books 10-12.

Greetings and well met, my fellow Dragonmarkers!

Today is the start of ONE of my new article series that I promised to start working on for you guys!

Today's first topic will be diving into the possibility on whether or not the Light Fury is based loosely on a book character as well.

Now, as you guys know, my opinion of the Light Fury is a little on the low side since the trailer. Not only because I've seen Light Furies since the first film came out (thank you, fanfiction and fanart 2010 and up), but also because of the obvious sexual dimorphism that they've created between Toothless and the Light Fury that you never see in other dragon species — which, in my opinion, is a bit of an insult. And her feminine-like physicality and seemingly OP skills.

DreamWorks, be honest, you took this character from the fanbase, didn't you? 😒😑

Would it have killed them to give us another Night Fury? 😭

But, to save time and to prevent you from listening to old rants and explanations from previous articles, I'm moving on.

There's been several theories and headcanons that I've been voicing as to explain her appearance physically and canonly-speaking in the past, but most of them have been shot down by metaphorical bola-launchers manned by Hiccups in the form of Dreamworks. Thank you, Dreamworks! (Notice the sarcasm)

However, recently, I've been re-reading the books and I've noticed something peculiar that never struck me before.

What if the Light Fury isn't as random as I had thought? That she isn't just something that Dreamworks implemented from the fandom in order to please the fans or created for the sole purpose of being Toothless's mate? What if she was inspired — as many HTTYD characters are — from the books?

The reason why I suddenly was struck by this though was by what Dean DeBlois stated: "That we will be basing a lot of the third part of Hiccup's story on the last book of the series: Book 12," to paraphrase heavily here.

He said that they'll be basing the third film to be loyal to the twelfth and final book of the series: How to Fight a Dragon's Fury. (Which, by the way, wasn't really the case.)

So, if this is true, then is the Light Fury a possible nod to the books? That's what we're here to hopefully find out.

Two Possible Influences:

There are two dragon characters that the Light Fury could possibly be inspired by:

The Silver Phantom — a powerful dragon species that shows up in books 10-12 (as well as the Complete Book of Dragons)

And Luna, a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus who's Furious's second-in-command and eventually Ruler of the dragons when a dying Furious names her as his successor and leaves for the Great Ocean (the author left it open-ended for the reader to decide whether he lives or not).

These two are not only female dragons, but dragons that are closest to what could've inspired the Light Fury that I could find.

I'm going to begin by discussing the Silver Phantom and the Light Fury and their similarities and differences. Then I'll do Luna and the Light Fury.

Now, please keep in mind that these upcoming reasons of the possibilities of the Light Fury sharing inspiration from one or both of these dragons are pure speculation, hypotheses, guesswork, and assumptions. So please take these words with a grain of salt.

If you think that I am wrong at any points or to improve any points, please let me know. I don't claim to have or know all the answers or that everything that comes out of my mouth is 110% accurate. I'm just making speculative reasonings and theories to try to better understand certain characters out of my love for this fandom.

So on to the Silver Phantom!

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Similarities Between the Light Fury and the Silver Phantom:

The Silver Phantom is first mentioned in Book 10: "How to Seize a Dragon's Jewel", where it's waiting for Hiccup and his dragons in ambush. We find out later that it's the Riding Dragon of Valhallarama, Hiccup's questing mother. It's nameless and doesn't talk (similar to Humungous Hotshot's dragon in book 5: "How to Twist a Dragon's Tale"), unlike other Riding Dragons. Though, I'm sure that's because of irrelevance to the plot of the story.

The stats on the picture say 7 for Size and 8 for Disobedience, though in the stats in the 10th book for the Silver Phantom, it says that all of its categories are a 10. I'm not sure how to account for this, on whether or not if this is a mistake. Or if it's dependent on gender. However, the 10th book was published in 2012, while The Complete Book of Dragons was published somewhere between 2013-2014, so I'm guessing that Cressida changed the stats a bit?

So here are some possible reasons as to why the Silver Phantom and the Light Fury might be similar and why the latter could be loosely-inspired by the former.

1) Both dragons seem to have similar colored scales.

Both dragons seem to have scales of a silvery-white hue, as both of them are sparkly and glowing.

In page 23 of Chapter 1 in Book 10, it says:

"Even though it was in the dead of night, every silver scale was lit up and shone brighter than was strictly possible in real life. The Silver Phantom seemed to give off its own light, like the moon. "Its scream was so high and so loud that Hiccup felt as if it were setting fire to his ears. And as the dragon screamed, it poured out a jet of bright blue flames that blasted the trees in front of it, burning the leaves as bright as green stars before they dropped to the ground in powdery black smithereens."

The Light Fury seems to glow in a similar way, though her scales seem to be nonexistent and more reflective than the Silver Phantom's. Now, the Light Fury doesn't breathe blue/purple flame (the film seems to show that she breathes a regular plasma blast with the normal color of fire, not a bluish-white color), but Toothless does. So I believe that the Fury family could easily be based on this particular dragon, as they can fly in high altitudes, and (the Night Furies, at least) can breathe blue/purple flame, and are the fastest in the dragon world in the movie franchise.

2) Both dragons seem to be rare.

It's described in page 1 of Chapter 1 as being "an Air Dragon of the purest silver — very, very rare and very, very dangerous."

In Book 10 and in The Complete Book of Dragons, Hiccup says that the Silver Phantom is a very rare dragon. However, in the latter book, it shows Hiccup the First, the second and third Hiccups' ancestor, riding on the back of a female Silver Phantom—which according to Hiccup the Third is very rare. So I'm not sure if Cressida is saying that the Silver Phantom as a species is very rare, or just the females. Or maybe because there are few females, that the Phantoms as a species can't reproduce as quickly and so their numbers were dwindling.

Or maybe during the previous two Hiccups' times, they weren't so rare, but they're rare now in Hiccup the Third's time?

Regardless of the reason, they're a rare species of dragon, and a Viking who has this dragon as its Riding Dragon would definitely be getting a big rise in social status. Valhallarama is the only known Viking in the series to ride a Silver Phantom as their riding dragon. There's also Hiccup the First, but it's not known whether the female Silver Phantom he's riding was allowing him to ride her for a temporary period, or if she was another riding dragon for him. There's no mention in the series of anyone having more than one Riding Dragon. Many Vikings are known to have more than one Hunting Dragon—or just more than one dragon in general—but there's no evidence of any Vikings having more than one Riding Dragon. Wodensfang said in Book 9 that he was Hiccup the First's blood brother and Riding Dragon. So, because of the lack of evidence of Vikings having more than one Riding Dragon, I'm assuming that's because you can only have one at a time, while you can have multiple Hunting Dragons.

Now, concerning the Light Fury, Dean DeBlois has said that "she is not the last of her kind," when talking about the Light Fury. However, you can take that with a grain of salt. For one thing, he says, "not the last of her kind." It doesn't say that they're not rare or endangered, nor does it say that female Light Furies aren't rare. However, I can't say with 110% certainty because neither the movie nor the behind-the-scenes vids have come out to prove this, nor is there any certainty of there being any concrete information in the film even if it does come out. Informative, and quite possibly visual, evidence on Light Furies and Night Furies will probably be scant if at all existent.

3) Both dragons seem to be super fast.

In pages 32-33, it speaks of the Silver Phantom's speed:

"Over the past year they had often eluded dragon pursuers by climbing up into the higher air, too high for the other dragons to follow. Most dragons prefer shallow air, the air nearest the ground. Very few can operate in the higher atmosphere. "Apart from the Silver Phantom. ". . . The Phantom was an Air Dragon. They were among the best flyers in the dragon world, and they flew the fastest and the highest."

In Page 307 of Chapter 27, the Phantom's speed is confirmed and the dragon is said to be "the fastest riding dragon in open skies."

Now, since she's part of the Fury family of Dragons, I'm assuming that she's really fast—as fast as Toothless if not more so (which might be the latter since he's encumbered with flight equipment, while she doesn't have such encumberments).

The Fury family of Dragons seem to be the fastest dragons in the dragon world, as Hiccup and Dreamworks have stated several times, and is mentioned in the book of dragons. Which makes me not help but wonder if the Night Furies weren't somewhat inspired by the Silver Phantom species.

Now, again, these are just speculative hypotheses at the moment, and probably won't ever be proven.

Now, on to Luna!

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Similarities Between the Light Fury and Luna the Sea-Dragon:

(Second_Only_To_The_Dragon_Furious_by_Grim1978)

Luna, Second-in-Command of Furious, King of the Dragons:

Now, this latter character is who I personally believe that the Light Fury is based on, in my opinion. I'll explain as I go along.

1) Both dragons are of the same species as their respective Toothlesses.

In the 12th Book: "How to Fight a Dragon's Fury", Luna is described in Page 76 of Chapter 4 as "a luminously beautiful Sea-Dragon slightly smaller than himself (Furious), known as Luna."

In the books, "Sea-Dragon" is a term often used to describe the Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus (due to the first part of their species' scientific name, I think), a massive Sea-Dragon species that are arguably the most dangerous dragons known in the dragon world. That, and they're also quite possibly the largest dragons in the dragon world—hence why Furious is King of the Dragons. Size and ferocity are very important for an Alpha, in a similar aspect to lions and wolves, etc.

Anyway, it's been revealed in Book 11: "How to Betray a Dragon's Hero", that Toothless is a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus, and NOT a Common or Garden Dragon, making him akin to other SGMs such as Wodensfang, Furious, Luna, Merciless/Green Death, and Purple Death (Book 1).

Meanwhile, the Light Fury, while not a Night Fury, is of the same family as the latter and are very close cousins. And since both the Light Fury and Toothless are Furies, and Toothless is loosely inspired from the Book!Toothless, who is a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus (or a Sea-Dragon) like Luna, it makes sense that the Light Fury might be based on Luna, however slightly.

2) Both dragons have glowing white scales.

In the same page and the same chapter, the narrator (Hiccup) further describes Luna as such: "She was so-called because she glowed with light like the moon. She lit up the dark storm clouds all around, and waves of heat pulsed out of her, so that the rain smoked and hissed when it landed on her shining body."

Now the Light Fury doesn't have glowing scales; her scales are more sparkly or glittery than anything. But in certain environments under certain exposure of light in a particular angle, it does look like that her scales are glowing in a sense. Unlike Luna, the Light Fury seems to copy the Deadly Shadow's and the Changewing's cloaking abilities, though in a smaller and more temporary sense, and having to use her plasma blasts to activate it.

3) Both dragons become rulers.

In Pages 415 and 421 on Chapter 26, Furious gives his Alpha-ship to Luna before he swims away into the Great Ocean, either awaiting death or even surviving the venomous injury he acquired from the Witch. And Luna then becomes the new Alpha of the Dragons and rules the Dragons for the rest of her days (which are very long indeed, even well past the end of the series.)

Now, here's my theory and headcanon for the third film concerning the Light Fury: That the Light Fury either 1) is Alpha of her own thunder (term for flock of dragons) as Toothless is when they find her and somehow got separated, 2) she'll become co-Alpha when she becomes Toothless's mate, or 3) Toothless, like Furious, ends up giving his Alpha-ship to another—namely the Light Fury—so that he can stay with Hiccup.

What do you guys think? Which do you think is plausible?

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Conclusion:

So that's my thoughts about the Light Fury. What do you guys think? Think that any of this is plausible? Do you think that she might be inspired by the Silver Phantom or Luna or a little bit of both? Anything that I got wrong and needs correcting? What are your thoughts on this?

(Personally, I still think that the Light Fury is a fanbase add-on by DreamWorks.)

Again, this is just a theory since I can't prove any of this. So if you have any thoughts you'd like to give me to prove or disprove this or to add to this that I didn't think of, I'd appreciate it.

Thanks again for your time and for reading this, as well as any comments that you might post. I appreciate the feedback and support!

If you guys have anyone specific you'd like me to write an article about in this comparison series, let me know.

Long Live the Wilderwest!

— Companion of the Dragonmark

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eatingfireflies · 9 months ago

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I want to talk about this thing

And I have a proposal:

The name of Dr Ratio's warp event is connected to this and, incidentally, Aventurine

Disclaimer: 1) I'm not normal or rational about Dr Ratio. 2) The conclusion is supported only by the English translation as far as I know. 3) Maybe the conclusion is a bit of a leap but I'm serious about everything else.

Let's go!

The conversation Aventurine and Acheron had towards the end is probably up there with End of Evangelion for me in terms of comforting. There's something comforting about Acheron's Nihility because there's still a drop of colour in there and she thinks it's enough. It's the kind of emptiness that accepts anything and don't we all need a little black hole to chuck all our worries into? 🥲

Before the 'grand finale', Aventurine says that sleep is a rehearsal of death. After his death, Acheron agrees and adds that we sleep in order to prepare for the real thing.

And then Aventurine asks her a question:

And Acheron's answer is: this isn't true and Aventurine knows this himself. We don't get born to die. There's no reason for being born, just like there is no meaning in life.

(There's only chance. In stories, things happen for a reason but life isn't story-shaped.)

So: there is no meaning in life. But the way we live our lives gives meaning to our deaths.

Then she tells him to look at his pocket because his friend has already given him the answer.

And I was like 'Finally !! I've been waiting for this reveal!' because what can be said at this moment that could help Aventurine?

There are 2 phases in his plan:

1) Prove that death is possible in the dreamland. Since all the visitors in Penacony are protected by Harmony, this is pretty hard to do but not impossible. We know other people have done it before. Aventurine uses Acheron the emanator of Nihility to cut through the Harmony protection and finish him off.

And Aventurine wins his wager! But the plan doesn’t end there.

2) Move forward to the Real Penacony somehow and investigate the truth about the Watchmaker. And then figure out how to come back. Which honestly sounds like a tall order, but what else can Aventurine do?

Well, he can stop at phase 1.

Acheron says that the conclusion of phase 1 is a win-win situation for the IPC, which is true. Aventurine's death will give the IPC a reason to investigate Penacony and the Family. We know Jade and the others aren't even allowed to go into the dreamscape, but with the death of the IPC envoy, they'll have the right to make some demands from the Family.

If Aventurine stops here, he still would have won.

We know from his conversation with his future self that he's tired and ready to stop. He wants to come home and be with his family.

Aventurine is pretty much a mess: he's a child blessed by Gaiathra Triclops, which gives him godly luck. This luck has prevented him from dying countless times before (even the times when he was actually fine with it). He wants to die but also he's terrified of... dying?

Truly embodying the 'Why is it so hard to die, so impossible to live?'* vibe.

(*From Tanith Lee's The Secret Books of Paradys 1, if you're interested)

Or maybe more accurately, he's terrified of losing everything just like he did in Sigonia. You can look at it in 2 ways: without Mama Fenge's blessing, Kakavasha would have died with the rest of the Avgin. Or Kakavasha's luck came at the expense of literally everything he holds dear.

With Acheron's help, he has finally achieved the death his own luck has been protecting him from. So why should he move forward?

Well, let's see what Acheron meant when she said Aventurine's friend has the answer.

And I... have no idea.

The underlying message here is easy enough to understand: Acheron has already answered Aventurine's question. He can move forward and keep living because that's what will give his eventual death more meaning. But hearing this from Acheron is a bit of a cold comfort: she accepts everything and also views everything impartially.

Ratio's note is a reminder to Aventurine that someone in the waking world is personally invested in Aventurine's well-being. Not because of what Aventurine can do for the IPC (as a consultant, I assume Ratio gets paid whether Aventurine succeeds or not, but also Aventurine has already succeeded with Phase 1).

And not because Ratio gets anything out of it... well, the Stellaron files maybe? But he already has that. Or whatever it is he went to Penacony for, because the two of them are being cagey about it.

Whatever it is, Ratio has already gotten what he wanted. This note is an extra then, something that he gave Aventurine because he wanted to.

I'll come back to what I think he meant, but I need to talk about the Jp translation (sorry I know I should check the original Cn instead but I don't know Cn at all 😭 it's hard enough for me to catch the nuance in Jp let alone a language I can't parse at all), because the word used is different and this is why I'm unsure.

Post by a Jp user about Ratio's note. I can't post a screencap because there's no more space 🥹 But here's the text:

「処方箋」

夢の中で不可能なのは「死」ぬことではなく、「熟睡」することだ。生きろ。幸運を祈る。

In this note, Ratio uses 熟睡 (jukusui), which means deep sleep. This is deep uninterrupted sleep, the kind that you wake up from feeling refreshed. Or the kind that you have when you take sleep meds. Or the kind that you have when you're contented with your life and not burdened with ambition or anxieties or curiosity.

I don't know.

We know that it's possible to sleep in the dreamscape because Ratio wakes Aventurine up in the beginning of the quest. At the very least, he seemed to be dreaming so I assume he was asleep? And they seem to be in the dreamscape because there's an origami bird tail behind him... except Dr Blues also appears in reality so maybe we can't rule anything out just yet.

I'm not 100% sure what Ratio means about 熟睡. But what about 'Dormancy'?

This is easier. The disclaimer here is I'm not a big fan of the English translation in general (especially the way Dr Ratio was translated in English) but I'll let myself have this.

Dormancy is (thank you wiki) a period in an organism's life cycle when growth, development, and (in animals) physical activity are temporarily stopped. It's also connected to 'deep sleep'. Hey, we're getting somewhere!

Basically, hibernation. Ratio seems to be confirming what we already know: the dream is falling apart because everything in the universe will succumb to Nihility in the end. Maybe the dream was created to preserve a memory (just like how the IPC was preserving Chadwick's memory in Penacony), but the dream is also starting to crumble.

Maybe this isn't the most comforting thing to tell Aventurine, but it does confirm what he probably already suspected (about the truth behind Penacony) and it also tells him that change is constant. Moving forward means he could potentially get out of a situation he doesn't like.

And he does move forward. He tells his past self that there will come a time in the future when he'll come home to his family, but not now. For now he can keep changing and making his own meaning.

Dr Ratio's warp banner is called Panta rhei. 'Everything flows', which says that things are always in a state of flux (change). For example, you can't step into the same river twice because the water is moving and is constantly getting replaced (thanks again, wiki). This is the same about humans: we are always changing both physically and mentally. We both are and are not (wiki again).

Doesn’t it sound like what he said in his doctor's prescription?

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail spoilers #dr ratio #hsr aventurine #penacony #d metas #cw death and nihilism

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veinsfullofstars · 2 months ago

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🎃 Kirbtober 2024 Day 29: Trick or Treat 🎃

(ID: Kirby series fanart of the CFAU kids out trick-or-treating together, backlit by a large yellow moon peeking through the silhouettes of dead trees. Bow Dee - dressed as a shark - dashes ahead, holding a swirly halloween lollipop and roaring like a feral little beast. Dedede - dressed as a masked wrestler - is not far behind, carrying a big candy sack over his shoulder and excitedly pointing ahead. Meta - dressed as a certain legendary warrior - flies after them just as eagerly, holding a pumpkin-shaped candy bucket in one hand and brandishing a construction-paper lance in the other, his wings shedding feathers he’d taped over them. Para Dee - dressed as a space ranger - brings up the rear, dragging his own candy bag behind him and already looking so tired from a long night of walking. Additional fun facts and headcanons below the cut, as well as a bannerless version. END ID.)

Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/paintpanic)

Started on 10/15/24, finished on 10/16/24. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost | Kirbtober 2023 Comp

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Some CFAU Halloween facts:

- Bow has worn that same shark costume every year since her first Halloween. It’s one of the few times in her childhood that she’s taken off her bow willingly for more than a few minutes.

- DDD saved up his allowance money for nearly a year to commission one of Bow’s moms (a former seamstress) to make that mask for him. She admits that she would’ve done it for free, but DDD’s papa insisted otherwise, hoping it might teach the boy about the value of money and paying folks fairly for their services (which it does... eventually).

- DDD’s mama tried to convince her son to wear a sweater due to the late-fall chill in the air, but he staunchly refused, claiming it wouldn’t be “authentic to the look.” They compromised by adding a blanket cape to his costume.

- Meta spent hours on his costume, consulting every book he could find at the Library Turtle for reference, agonizing over several "failed attempts" until he got it right. In the end, he managed to make himself into a fairly accurate replica of the Ancient hero... but had to make a few concessions, leaving the shield and pauldrons behind so he could carry his treat bucket (a difficult sacrifice, but a worthwhile one).

- Despite all his meticulous work, Meta leaves a trail of feathers behind them all night, his wings nearly bare by the time they return home to sort their candy. To his credit, he’d had some trouble applying them thanks to his limited reach, so - rather than leave his costume incomplete - he asked Para to help him out. (He’d considered asking DDD first… but the thought of the penguin touching his wings made his stomach feel funny. He’s not sure why.)

- Para’s outfit is a hand-me-down from one of his older siblings. It’s a bit snug and tends to chafe, not to mention entirely inaccurate to a real spacesuit… but it’s one of his favorite costumes of all time, the closest he’s ever been (in his youth, at least) to feeling like a real, honest-to-Nova astronaut.

- DDD gives all his chocolate candy to Meta without question. Bow steals everyone’s sour candy without asking. Para picks one grandma caramel from his pile and lets the others keep the rest. The four of them share a small bag of homemade checkerboard cookies provided by Para’s dad.

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howlsofbloodhounds · 6 months ago

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Any headcanons for passive Nightmare?

And if he were to meet Killer/young dream tale siblings?

Aw man I don’t check my inbox as frequently as I should. Too many unanswered questions going unanswered for too long. (Like 9 hrs to 2 days long)

Now the twins aren’t my main focus at the moment (and I beef with corrupted nightmare I hate him most of the time ong) but one HC I always had was that Dream keeps well kept, decorated wooden boxes filled with Passive’s favorite books. Ink paints the boxes with gorgeous colors and Swap carves in pretty symbols and decorations.

He tries to maintain the original copies and add new books written by Passive’s favorite authors, even if Passive died too young to read the books himself. Maybe in hopes that he’ll get his brother back one day and Passive will get to read them himself.

Because it’s been like 500 something years, I can see Dream painstakingly going through the trouble of writing down the written words onto paper and binding them himself every few years.

Or at least requesting/paying for someone to help him do so. I can also see Dream going through the trouble of translating the books into different languages, such as English, Old English, Spanish, etc, etc. any language that he knows Passive knew.

I also like to think that Ink draws pictures of Passive and young Dream and maybe how Passive would look if he were able to live and grow older for Dream. Dreamtale didn’t have the technology to take pictures, but luckily Dream is/was friends with an artist who is the protector of AUs & is also hyperfixated on AUs im pretty sure.

And Dream cherishes these a lot, not only because they’re accurate and it’s a way to further remember his brother, but because it’s a very sweet thing for Ink to do for him. I think Dream also cherishes these pictures as memories of his friendship with Ink, even after their falling out.

So I like to Hc that similar to the way people hc Nightmare/Corrupted to have a library in his castle, I like to think Dream maintains a little library of his own for Passive.

And maybe he entrusts the boxes of books to either Swap or Ink, keeping it somewhere safe in the Doodlesphere perhaps. And like Ink made sure to write down where he left the boxes on their scarf so he doesn’t forget where they put them.

And also Ink and Swap helps Dream hunt down any books that Passive liked that were lost in the 500+ year passage of time.

Now if Killer were to meet Passive, assuming Passive and Corrupted are the same person, I doubt his thoughts about Nightmare would really change. Passive would probably think Killer’s a weird, cryptic individual who is oddly interested in the black apples and yet seemingly unaffected by them too.

Passive would probably get the vibe that Killer knows something he doesn’t and is mocking him for it (regardless of if Killer actually is or not, Passive was a heavily bullied 6 yr old, most people he interacted with were often mocking towards him). I doubt Passive would feel comfortable around Killer, and Killer would enjoy making any version of Nightmare uneasy around him.

(Given how Killer projects his own shit with his Chara on to even Underswap Chara, despite eventually realizing that Underswap isn’t actually his Chara, I don’t doubt he’d do the same with Passive and Corrupted.

If Passive and Corrupted are separate entities, and assuming Killer knows that, at most he might give some cryptic “avoid doing this” bullshit type of advice.

If Passive was never meant to survive or grow up, which certainly seems the case just by going off the name of the AU—Dreamtale—then I doubt Killer actually believes he can do anything to change it. And why would he care to, his allegiances don’t lie with Passive in this case.)

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rosie-rosem · 2 years ago

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let me in?

❥ pairing: nonidol!coldclassmate!jungwon x bubbly!fem!reader

❥ genre: angst, fluff, highschool!au, unrequited love > requited love

❥ summary: jungwon... the cold-hearted boy at your school who doesn't care about anyone and is just pure cold. no one has been able to make him soft hearted that is, until you, (maybe) a transfer student. will you manage to steal his cold heart?

❥ warnings: mention of food, mention of being ignored, grammar mistakes, not proofread!!!, let me know if I forgot something!

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WC: 2k

A/N: hi! sorry for getting this out like way later than I thought I would! :( I meant to finish it up earlier in the week, but I kept getting caught up with things. sorry bout that! anyways, I really hope you enjoy this won fic, although his character isn't very accurate, I still hope you enjoy! <3

"Hi Jungwon!" You walk up to him. He turned to look at you coldly "what do you want?" He replied. "Why so cold" You scolded teasingly. "I just wanted to say Hi." You smiled.

"Well don't. You annoy me" He pushed you away with his cold and indifferent attitude. "Tch, fine then. I’ll be back though!" You gave another smile. He turned back to his phone ignoring you as though you didn't even exist.

You sighed. "Just wait Jungwon, I’m determined to persue you!" You whispered to yourself and smiled in confidence.

Eventually, it was Lunch time "Hey Jungwon!" You say, sitting at his table. He gives no response, his earbuds were in, blocking any sort of noise from his surroundings. He was reading something on his phone and seemed too busy to notice you in the slightest.

You tap the table in front of him to get his attention. "whatchya doing?" You ask. He sighed and took out his earbuds. "What?" He had the most bored and annoyed tone in his voice. "What are you doing?" You repeated, tilting your head with a smile*

"Reading?" He responded sarcastically. "Do you have nothing to do? You annoy me, go away." He put his earbuds back in trying to read in peace.

"This might be harder than i thought." You said to yourself, sighing.

The boy looked up from his phone again, clearly getting more annoyed by the minute just by seeing you. "You're really testing my patience here. Why don't you just shut up and leave me alone?" He spoke.

"Hey, that’s not very nice!" You said teasingly, still trying to keep up a good mood. "I don't care whether it's nice or not, I just want to be left alone, is that too much to ask?" He snapped back in a tone which showed that he was losing more patience.

You sighed before giving a little sad smile. "Okay…see you around Jungwon!" You waved as you left. "No, please don't see me again." He said before putting his earbuds back in and started reading again, not paying any attention to you whatsoever.

"Tch." You bit your lip at his response. "What do I do…" You sighed once more before leaving him alone after realizing you were really bothering his reading.

Eventually class and the period ended, your classmates began to leave the classroom and Jungwon stood up, putting his books and phone away in his backpack.

You walked up to Jungwon. "that was an interesting lesson wasn’t it?" You spoke out. He Jumped back slightly, startled by your sudden presence. He sighed and rolled his eyes giving you a look of wondering what you wanted. "Yeah it was great..." He said, being sarcastic. He clearly just wanted to be left alone.

You laughed at his sarcasm. "I can't believe you think I'm funny" He said in an annoyed tone still, you got under his skin with that laugh. "oh, we’ll yeah…" You replied.

"Whatever" He started walking to his next class, putting in his earbuds once again. He wasn't interested in talking to anyone and certainly didn't want anyone to talk to him, so he did what came easily to him, he pushed everyone away and tried to ignore their existence. You sighed, slightly frowning.

Later that day, at home, you were laying on your bed and were talking to your older sister. "Eonni, what do I do, the boy I like seems to want no interest in me what’s so ever, but I really like him…" You pouted at the reoccurring thought.

Your sister thinks to herself for a moment. "You've got to give him a dose of his own medicine, fight him with his own tactics." She speaks. "What do you mean by that? You ask, sitting up.

"Well, you know how cold and apathetic he is? You need to be cold towards him, try ignoring him and pushing him away." She explains, hoping to help you. You bit your lip before smiling. yeah, okay! I’ll try that. thanks, Eonni!" you say, "Good luck" she said, smiling back at you..

The next day at school.

Jungwon was walking down the hallways when he felt someone push past him, turning to look at who it was, he could see that it was you and you were now standing there staring right at him. "What? you. you're walking in my way." You said coldly to him.

"What do you want? Can't you just leave me alone?" He grumbled, annoyed at your sudden appearance once again. You just rolled my eyes before continuing to walk past him.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, you had finally got the point, he had thought you were never going to shut up and leave him alone but finally, it had happened. He breathed a sigh of relief and kept on walking, going to his next class.

You sighed. "Is it working?" You thought.

He seemed less irritated, and he was leaving you alone like you asked, so it must have been. But was this tactic the right move to take?

Jungwon continued on with his day. Walking through the halls, going to his classes, not even acknowledging anyone's existence. He was minding his own business, and no one should bother him as far as he was concerned.

You were eating your lunch peacefully, alone.

He came into the cafeteria, looking for a place to sit by himself so he can eat in peace. He walked around a bit, looking for any empty table. Unfortunately, all the tables in the cafeteria are filled, which means he has to sit next to a stranger. He sighed with a bit of annoyances, and then he saw it, you were sitting alone at a table, he decides that sitting near your is the best option he has.

Suddenly Jungwon sat across from you, and you felt shocked but kept your cool in front of him. You just looked at him quickly before continuing eating your food. He stared at you with his cold, piercing gaze and then started eating his own food.

"What?" He asked, annoyed. It was clear that he didn't like that he had to sit across fromyou, but it wasn't like he had any other choice.

You ignored his question and just kept eating, not looking at him again. He was very annoyed and wanted to say something, he just knew he shouldn't.

He finished his food quickly and put his dishes in the basket that was on top of the table. He put his trash in the bin and then started walking out of the cafeteria. Not even acknowledging your existence once, ignoring anything and everything about you, but he was still a little bit irritated by the he had to sit across from you.

You pouted. "Nothing's working" you said to yourself.

The next day

Jungwon was sitting at his desk in his homeroom class, not paying attention to the teacher or his classmates. Just looking at his phone and thinking about nothing in particular.

You sat by the window, letting the cool breeze blow on your face. but you soon got quite sleepy and began dozing off.

He soon noticed you out of the corner of his eye, your head resting against the glass of the window seat. You seemed to be asleep. He just let out a small sigh. "How annoying..." He muttered under his breath, annoyed that someone was once again bothering him.

You slept peacefully, until you felt a presence near...

"Y/N!" The teacher yelled your name, causing you to wake up but also causing your fellows classmates heads to turn towards you.

Jungwon watched this, his expression blank and emotionless as usual but he was definitely annoyed. He rolled his eyes at the annoyance.

Meanwhile, everyone started talking amongst themselves and laughing. He turned his music up slightly, trying to drown out the noise around him.

"Will you please pay attention? this isn’t time for you to nap!" The teacher scolded. You bowed in apologies.

Jungwon shook his head and sighed. He continued to listen to music as the teacher lectured the rest of the class on how they need to focus.

You tapped Jungwons shoulder. "What are you listening to?" You whispered while smiling to him. He jumped slightly, startled by the sudden touch on his shoulder, he took out his ear buds from his ears and looked you. "How can anyone be so loud?" He mumbled in annoyance, putting his ear buds back in and turning away from you.

You sighed. "my bad…" You pouted as you turned my attention back to the teacher.

You could tell by his cold expression that he was annoyed at you. It really isn't good to bother someone who just wants to be left alone. He was fed up with people constantly bothering him. He wanted to be left alone and the only person who bothered him today was you, and now he's very close to having the urge to push you away. But he didn't because he doesn't want to be that rude.

He sat back, still not looking at you, and continued to ignore your existence as he listened to his music. You also decided to ignore him the rest of the day, not wanting to deal with his cold attitude*

A week later, you gave him a bit of time to cool off. So, you finally decided it was time to confess your feelings to him.

He was walking to his next class, heading down the hallway when he heard a voice behind him call out to him. He rolled his eyes and turned around, only to see you. You seemed nervous but also excited, he could tell that something important was coming up.

"What, now?" He said, he was annoyed but not showing any emotions. He was fed up, he just wanted to be left alone, why was it so hard for you to get that?

"I just wanted to tell you something..." You looked up at him with a soft, shy smile. "Oh really?" He said in a slightly mocking tone, clearly not very interested in your conversation but he still raised an eyebrow but looked down at you, waiting to hear what this "something" was.

You bit your lip in nervousness. "I like you…" You confessed.

Jungwon stared at you for a moment, his expression confused. He seemed to be processing your confession, his cold exterior making it difficult to gauge his true feelings. Finally, he let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "You like me?" he repeated, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Why?"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I don't know. There's just something about you that intrigues me. I see past your cold exterior, Jungwon. I believe there's more to you than what meets the eye." you explained.

His gaze softened slightly, though he tried to hide it. "You think you can change me or something?" He asked with a bit of a harsh yet confused tone.

You shook your head. "No, that's not what I mean. I just want to understand you, to be there for you if you'll let me. I want to know the real you." You say

Jungwon's eyes flickered with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. He remained silent for a while, contemplating your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. "You're persistent, I'll give you that. But I'm not an easy person to be around. I've been hurt before, and I've built these walls to protect myself." He says.

"I understand," you replied softly. "But everyone deserves a chance at happiness, Jungwon. Including you." You gave a smile.

He looked at you, his guarded expression slowly softening. "You don't give up, do you?" He asked. You smiled warmly. "Not when it comes to something or someone I truly believe in." You let out a soft giggle in responce.

Jungwon let out a small chuckle, a genuine glimmer of amusement crossing his face. "You're something else, L/n Y/n." He says.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "So, will you give me a chance, Jungwon? Will you let me in?" You ask. He stared into your eyes, the coldness replaced by a hint of vulnerability. After a moment of silence, he nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll give you a chance. But don't expect it to be easy."

You nodded back, determination shining in your eyes. "I wouldn't want it any other way." You gave a bright smile.

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Well, Thats it. I really hope you enjoyed! Also, thanks for the love on my other posts! <333

#enhypen #kpop #enha #jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen angst #enhypen fluf #enhypen jungwon #high school au #fanfic #jungwon x reader #rosie rosem

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pinktacotragedy · 7 months ago

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Okay I'm ranting a lot about Bridgerton right now, but no one I know watches and I've got so many thoughts to get out.

Honestly i'm not tooo mad about polin not having happily married scenes because i think that's going to come in future seasons. Like this was their season to focus on drama and here on out we'll see them as a team, much like they have done with Kanthony. That doesn't mean i've loved ALL the decisions they made this season. I'm forever going to be bitter we didn't get the book love confession.

However, I do not understand the direction they are going with Whistledown. It makes more sense to me that either Penelope gave it up or they'd made some kind of deal with the Queen that meant that Penelope could continue to write under Whistledown but the ton didn't know it was her. I don't understand how they're going to make it work now that everybody knows its her? Most of the appeal of LW to the ton is the anonymity of it. Imagine her talking shit now? Girl you're a Bridgerton AND a Featherington, focus on your own drama.

Also I really don't like what they've done with Cressida. I don't love a bully redemption arc by any means, but Cressida had very real problems in part 2 and the way they were dismissive of that did not sit right with me. Especially since they seemed to be making a point about a woman's place in society and how much you have to give up through marriage. I just think it falls flat when we're supposed to.. what? laugh at Cressida but root for Pen? If they were so hell bent on giving us a Cressida redemption arc this season then it shouldn't of come at the expense of other characters. It would of paid off better if Eloise and/or Pen had worked with her to find a solution that fitted everybody. They really didn't learn from the Marina storyline. I also don't really understand why Eloise was so scared of Cressida? If she threatened her or had something over her then fair enough, but she didn't? She just pointed out Eloise's flaws which is literally what Pen did last season.

It is so funny for me to be saying any of this since i literally said earlier that I think Bridgerton has well written characters... I don't think I stand by that anymore.

I love Benedict as a character but I am praying next season is his so they can stop giving him these pointless storylines. That's the one story i'm most okay with not being book accurate because I want to fight book Benedict.

I'm still going to do a rewatch eventually and I may feel differently about a few things after that, but yeah still loved a lot of the season. These are just my main complaints.

#bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #cressida cowper

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sephirothsplaything · 1 year ago

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So dear author, can I get an extremely intimate, passionate and romantic nsfw imagine/oneshot Daemon x poc/black fem! reader, in which they are married, but reader has been acting strangely for weeks and Daemon is kind of worried/intrigued by her behavior (since she is distant and doesn't talk to him about what's going on) and he goes to Nyra (they're friends) to try to find out what's going on and she just reassures him. But what he doesn't know is that Reader is pregnant and is trying to find a way to tell him. So with the help of Rhaenyra (who is the only one besides her who knows) reader prepares a surprise for him (more like a love nest, complete with candles, flowers, sweets, bath and massage)… While they are there taking a shower together and talking about the amenities of the day, she is giving him a back massage and kissing his scars, then she apologizes for acting strange and tells him the real reason and then he worships her while they make love, please? (sorry for my English, and if it's too long and full of details, feel free to ignore)

I'm ngl Daemon and I struggled a little with this. I really had to lock in for him to be character-accurate, but I sincerely hope you like it! And thank you for requesting I had plenty of fun.

Daemon Targaryen x black fem! reader NSFW

CW: smut obvi, slight pregnancy kink, and breeding kink if you squint and body worship.

Word count: 1320(honestly i have a thing for writing long stuff)

Daemon’s eyes followed as you briskly walked past him.

You hadn’t spoken to him all day. In fact, these days you hardly speak at all. You’d often eat your supper alone or walk with only the company of your handmaidens.

Daemon isn’t one to worry,he had larger matters to attend to than whether or not you're upset with him.

That was his personal opinion at least. Rhaenyra seemed to adamantly disagree.

“There is something bothering her, it is plain to see.” Rhaenyra said. Daemon had come to her for advice, or rather he’d hope Rhaenyra would confirm his thoughts.

“She’s being ridiculous.” Daemon scoffs. Deep down he had to admit, your dismissal of him irritated him immensely. He really did love you, no one could deny this. So why the avoidance?

Rhaenyra scoffs at Daemon. Clearly, what was obvious to her might as well be invisible to him.

Rising up from her seat, Rhaenyra shoots Daemon a pointed look.

“Take care to be more gentle with her.” She says. And with that Rhaenyra exits the room, leaving Daemon swirling in his thoughts.

You paced around your room. You knew you’d have to tell him eventually. Your belly would soon grow for all the world to see.

“Y/N?” You heard Rhaenyra’s voice call out to you. Ordering your handmaids to leave the room,you invited Rhaenyra to sit by you. She takes your hand in hers,thumb brushing the top of your hand.

“He needs to know.” Rhaenyra sighed out. Of course she was right,as always.

You folded your hands together,deep in thought. Daemon was always caught up in one matter or another. You were unsure on how to speak to him.

“Perhaps you should arrange for something special?” Rhaenyra suggested. You stared at her in confusion. You and Daemon’s relationship was interesting at best. It was never boring, he’d frequently bring you back things such as fine jewelry or books from other kingdoms.

“I am unsure as to what he’d like.” You admitted,slightly embarrassed. Rhaenyra smiles at you.

She found it amusing how you, too, seemed oblivious.

“He’ll enjoy anything you give him,I think.” Rhaenyra assures you.

So here you were,leaning up against the outside of your tub. Your curly white hair rested against your brown skin. You chose to wear a simple linen dress. As nervous as you were,you were in no mood to be decked out in overindulgence.

You had sent for Daemon awhile ago. The longer you sat in waiting, anxiety began to set in. Taking a breath,you took in your surroundings. The bath had since been drawn and the petals of your favorite wildflowers had been scattered onto your bed and the floor.

But what if he didn’t like it? What if he thought you were a fool for making such an effort? What will happen when–.

“Y/N?” Daemon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He walks around your room,taking note of all the decorations you’ve set up. You lift your head up slightly. It was like you were going to puke any minute.

Daemon finds you on the floor of the bathroom. You offer a half smile at him. Daemon crosses his arms,leaning onto one of the walls.

“And what’s all this?” He asks.

“I just thought perhaps we could take a bath together.” You mumble.

Daemon doesn’t respond. He stares at you for a moment. Then slowly, he passes you by to the bath. He removes his shirt, followed by his pants and undergarments. Getting into the water, he leans back into the tub.

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow at you. Following suit,you remove your dress. Sliding behind him,you lean onto his back. A comfortable silence wafted in the room.

“Caraxes and Syrax have brought forth a new clutch of eggs.” Daemon said. You hum softly as you begin to massage his shoulders. He sighed,leaning back further into you.

“Perhaps I should take an egg for myself then.” You giggled. You hadn’t yet found a dragon for yourself,much to Daemon’s dismay.

You went quiet after that. You still haven't told him. Daemon runs his hand down your arm,silently coaxing you to speak to him.

“I’m pregnant.” You say,voice quivering a little. Daemon stills at the news and you think that you really might throw up, for the second time.

“Is that what you’ve been dancing around?” He finally speaks. You take a breath but the nervousness doesn’t leave your gut.

“I know you’ve been so busy I wasn’t sure if you’d be pleased.” You say quietly.

“You are going to bear my child,why wouldn’t I be pleased?” He scoffs.

You couldn’t find a response for him,so back to silence it was.”

“Do you know that I care for you?” He asks,voice stern.

“Yes.” Your response was immediate.

Daemon stands up,he turns to face you.

“Then,allow me to take you to bed and show you?” He suggests.

With that he slips an arm under your plush thighs,carrying you to the bedroom.

Daemon lays you out on your bed. Your body is flush against him as he kisses you deeply. His hands trail down to your stomach and linger there for a moment. You shivered at the contact.

Daemon kisses down to your stomach and down to your thighs. You whine impatiently and he shushes you.

Daemon devoured you like a man starved. His hands grip harshly onto your plush thighs, sure to leave bruises in the morning. You moan softly, your hand finding its way to his hair as your fingers softly brushed them.

Daemon hummed softly. Then, he removes his mouth from you,beginning to place kisses fervently all over your body. He sits back on his knees,taking you in. The coils of her hair were splayed out on the pillow like a halo. Your brown skin was nearly hot to the touch.

Mother to his child. Daemon couldn't begin to verbalize how perfect you were.

“Perhaps after this child, I should give you another.” Daemon purrs. You gasp in surprise as he drags you by the legs,bringing you closer. Lining himself up with you,he thrusts in one fluid motion.

Curses and moans filled the room,the sounds gracing your ears. It was all so overwhelming,waves of emotions welling up in you all at once. As he continues his harsh thrusts,you think you can hear him mutter about how tight you were for him.

Your legs wrap around him tightly,urging him on. You felt the soft stabbing of his cockhead up to your most sensitive spots. You whisper out his name,hands making their way towards him, hands interlocking.

Daemon knew you were close,he could feel your walls squeezing him like a vice,ever the tease you were.

Climaxing, you felt the mixture of his cum as well as yours flow down your thighs. Daemon stays in you for a while,ensuring that not a single drop was wasted. After some time passed,he slowly pulled out of you. Shuddering at the feeling of his warmth leaving you,Daemon pulls your body to him,wrapping his arms protectively around your waist.

The two of you were silent for a while. Daemon gently stroked your back, His head turned to you slightly.

“I assume you’ve come up with names for the child,all that time you were ignoring me.” He says,a slight humor in his voice.

Giggling, you agree you had.

“Aemon if it’s a boy and Rhaena if it's to be a girl.” You decide. Daemon smiles down at you before placing a kiss on your forehead.

#black oc #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targeryen x reader

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hekateinhell · 2 years ago

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Hi! I'm a show watcher that's been trying to get into the books. I have seen around that Armand vowed to never make a fledgling but broke this vow for Daniel. Why did he vow to never turn another person?

Hi! 🖤

Okay, just a head's up - there's no real way I can give a detailed answer without spoilers so save this for later if you'd like to avoid them for now!

Jumping in, Armand actually touches on this topic in TVA and gives a somewhat straightforward response:

I was a firm believer that those we make ourselves will always despise us for it. I cannot claim that I have never despised Marius, both for making me and never returning to me to assure me that he had survived the horrible fire created by the Roman Coven. I had sought Louis rather than create others.

Armand never wanted to create other vampires, which is really no surprise given how horrible most of his lived experience as a vampire had been.

He also seems to have a preference for communicating via the Mind Gift, almost as if comes easier to him than communicating verbally. When a vampire turns a human, it closes off their minds to each other forever — something Armand particularly emphasizes in his tirade to Lestat in TVL when he mentions 'the veil' aka 'veil of silence':

"Oh, but it's always a travesty, don't you see?" he [Armand] said with that same gentleness. "Each time the death and the awakening will ravage the mortal spirit, so that one will hate you for taking his life, another will run to excesses that you scorn. A third will emerge mad and raving, another a monster you cannot control. One will be jealous of your superiority, another shut you out." And here he shot his glance to Gabrielle again and half smiled. "And the veil will always come down between you. Make a legion. You will be, always and forever, alone!"

Armand will never be able to communicate with his fledglings the way he can Lestat and others besides his own maker.

And interestingly enough, Armand did accurately prophesize the outcomes of several of Lestat's fledglings over the next hundred years. Gabrielle (shuts Lestat out); Nicki (goes mad); Louis (resents him); Claudia (need I say more?).

Even if Armand didn't have so much trauma from his own life and his maker abandoning him, I have to imagine bearing such close witness as to how the maker/fledgling dynamics played out for Lestat would be enough to make anyone second guess the whole idea. For Armand it must have served to reinforce every preconceived notion he had on the matter. He even said to Lestat:

"Remember that when your dark children strike out at you, when they rise up against you. Remember me."

And we have still to broach the final layer (in this post — dissecting the entire topic will end with me writing a dissertation and nobody wants that). But Armand was torn away from his maker at a very young age and he did spend the next three hundred years of his life in service of a Satanic cult, which was instrumental in shaping his perspective and driving home the belief that vampirism is the ultimate condemnation.

Yet in the centuries of his long obedience, Armand kept two secrets to himself. These were his property, these secrets, more purely his than the coffin in which he locked himself by day, or the few amulets he wore. The first was that no matter how great his loneliness, or how long the search for brothers and sisters in whom he might find some comfort, he never worked the Dark Trick himself. He wouldn't give that to Satan, no Child of Darkness made by him. ~ Lestat passing on Armand's story as it was told to him in TVL

In a way, I think it was the only measure of autonomy Armand felt he might have had during the cult years. He wouldn't give that to Satan! He wouldn't do that to another being!

And yet, eventually... he did.

And yes, Armand was different person by the end of Devil's Minion but it was obviously still a decision that pained him. One that he said he did out of loneliness but also love, and it's up to the reader to decide how hyperbolic Armand thought he was being when he tells Daniel as he's offering him the choice: "We'll be in hell together after all."

As an aside: it fascinates me how Armand and Lestat both suffered from this agonizing loneliness and yet they each approached it in entirely opposite ways.

#i really really tried to be coherent i just have a lot of feelings #armand/daniel #devil's minion #vc #armand #daniel molloy #lestat de lioncourt #mildly meta #quotes

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idkwhatimdoingbutslay · 24 days ago

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Ok so it’s been awhile since I’ve finished dear, hello… — one of my fav fics I’ve written and am currently writing a sequel for — and I’ve always wanted to reveal my notes for it but there’s just… so many lmao. Long fics really just accumulate random notes everywhere like crazy and none of mine are coherent or pleasant to read. Eventually, I’ll actually organize them and explain my thought process, but for now, I’m gonna reveal Vi’s ORIGINAL letter that Cait wrote for her since hers was actually going to be revealed first until I changed my mind….. for suspense 🤭…….. and then rewrote it once the time to actually reveal came.

It’s not crazy different but it’s different enough and, of course, stories change as we write so it didn’t feel too accurate anymore. Let’s compare and contrast with the newer letter and the letter it was inspired by in the original book 😫

LETTER FROM THE BOOKS FOR CONTINUED REFERENCE:

FIRST: THE ACTUAL LETTER USED

OK SO THIS IS THE ONE THAT WAS ACTUALLY USED. It drew a LOT more direct inspiration from the original letter in the books, which was my goal in writing it. The focus and theme of all the reasons Caitlyn SHOULD hate Vi is highlighted so much more and a lot more in your face. I think it’s pretty solid, maybe a little clunky and drawn out, but solid nonetheless. I do believe that in both version, Vi’s letter is the longest out of ALL of the letters, which is like….. Caitlyn was sniffing that copium really hard.

I took some of my fav lines from the original letter I wrote [thin line motif] and kinda threw it in here, so, again, it does make it read as clunky imo.

I really like my mentions of classic pieces of media because that’s a thing that pops up throughout the fic of Caitlyn trying to understand her own wants and needs as well as drawing out the wants and needs in media and comparing and contrasting. Cait’s whole arc was about accepting the whimsy and the fun and the ‘childish’, it was about letting go and appreciating the love letters for what they are, so the little added thing of not dismissing media that portrays that was pretty effective I think. Especially since it carries on, Caitlyn growing to hate them the more she experiences heartbreak, and even MORE after the worst of them all (VI!!!!)

OKAY SO THE ORIGINAL ONE I WROTE:

Just to clarify: Pink text means I’m unsure whether or not to include and will come back to it during editing.

Fics really do just grow a head of their own when giving the chance right? Because I wrote this one first for chapter… four or six (I think? I don’t remember lol) but decided to let it be the final letter revealed for the suspense and so when Caitlyn writes Vi her new letter, the readers get to directly experience the stark difference between the two. Once I got to the point of actually revealing Vi’s letter… so many things had changed. Caitlyn’s arc was so much more fleshed out (it was revealed in the last chapter so hopefully lmao), and her storylines with both Corina (EWWWWW) and Cassandra were wrapping up, so I had a much clearer vision when rewriting it in comparison to this.

This one also didn’t follow the theme of “why I’m supposed to hate you” as much, I don’t think. It was kind of all of the place and felt much too wordy and inaccurate after everything that had changed. BUT, I think the fluidity in this one is better because this is where I came up with the better lines that I feel I kinda just threw into the released version.

OVERALL CRITIQUE FOR BOTH OF THEM:

wayyyyy too overwritten. What I can appreciate about the letters in the book that this is based on is that you can TELL that the main character wrote them when she was young. I didn’t really take that into account when writing all the letters because I, of course, write a certain way with a specific tone in this fic. BUT, to counter that, Caitlyn was over-trained, if that makes sense? Her writing would never be super juvenile because of how she was raised, BUT AGAIN, she was still a melodramatic kid writing love letters!!!! I think I just used grown up Caitlyn’s voice in these letters too much without taking into account her age when writing, even if I did add a few silly vibes for fun.

at least for Vi’s, Caitlyn was over the whole firey fairy tale vibes once it got to her turn, so of course she would be more reserved and matter of a fact while writing Vi’s? But like… Jayce’s letter? I should’ve purposefully put spelling mistakes in it lmao.

I like that it’s pretty obvious in both versions that this is the last letter Caitlyn wrote. Vi breaking her heart was too much for her to take, so this was the end. Vi didn’t even get a greeting in the beginning, using a full name that feels foreign to even Vi herself, she only got a goodbye in the end.

COMPARING TO CAIT’S NEW AND IMPROVED LETTER SHE READ TO VI

SO RIGHT OFF THE BAT: “Hello Vi” (a kind greeting using Vi’s preferred name!!!) to “I hope this isn’t goodbye” AHH I LOVE THAT! Especially since the title of the fic starts with Hello and ends with Goodbye like YESSS, I ate that lil one thing!

Love the carried on theme of this letter and it ties a lot more directly to the actual og letter I used with the theme of picking out all the reasons why Caitlyn doesn’t hate Vi at all. Caitlyn finally accepting how down bad she is for this girl, like how down bad the main characters are in those movies and books she ‘hates’, is just golden. Writing Vi a love letter because she deserves it is just golden.

The whole finishing it off with a final “I love you” just feels so right. Before, Caitlyn hated how much she loved Vi and now she loves loving her!!!! Even if she didn’t get to say the words “I love you” cuz Vi wasn’t ready to hear them, I still think it’s a great way to wrap up the whole thing :)

I’m lowkey kind of insane about this fic so like a ton of rambling here lol but this is so fun!! More notes to come eventually. Hopefully. Probably some abandoned/failed plot line stuff. :) OK THATS IT

#EEEKKK OK finally the og letter is out there lol #I feel like I’m so quiet on here in comparison to how crazy about everything I actually am lmao. I am NOT chill or nonchalant #Despite what the blog (DOESNT LMAO) suggest. I am worse #Caitlyn vs Silco analysis post when 👀👀👀 eventually #Slay writes #Also been conjuring up a new updating fic sooooo….. 👀👀👀👀👀. No promises #Caitvi #caitvi fanfiction #violyn #piltover’s finest #I LOVE THEM AHHHH #Dear hello

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im-out-of-it · 2 months ago

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season 1, episode 9 discussion list, “rise up”

this one and the following episodes (especially Malec) will be broken up in many parts so I thank anyone who takes the time and reads them 🥰

1. I feel bad for Simon processing that he’s a vampire. oh and he thinks Raphael did this. wait until he finds out it’s his supposed bestie

2. he has to process that 1. he’s a vampire. 2. his bestie made this choice for him. 3. he can’t go out in the daytime. 4. can never be near his mother right away or tell her the truth without her thinking her son is a monster. 5. has to go through all these changes. 6. having to rely on blood for his food. 7. oh and yeah being a downworlder who is seen inferior in the shadow world

3. “Alec, I need you.”- jace. bro does he know anything besides begging Alec for help? I know he doesn’t know yet that Alec was injured but think about someone else for a change. Alec has done everything for Jace and he’s still like “oh I need you to do this.” good on Izzy for shutting that down

4. like Alec is literally injured??????? I’m sorry about Simon but jace has been fixing Simons problems for the last episodes and no one is concerned about Alec- besides Izzy and Magnus

5. “Valentine attacked my home. Alec is injured, we have to go.”- jace. at least he’s finally showing some concern for Alec. and then clary is all like ummmm I can’t because of Simon. he’s finally putting Alec before clary (which is rare) for a change

6. “say that after you get my bill.”- Magnus making everyone but Alec pay heavily for his services will never get old lmao

7. giving Magnus the cold shoulder 😭 Magnus offered free services and Alec declined 🥹

8. well meliorn has just been arrested so sit tight while Izzy finds a way out

9. and Izzy is not having it

10. and also can we talk about meliorn and izzy? I really like the show version of them together. in the books, he doesn’t really give a shit about izzy and Alec eventually kills him. sorry if I spoiled anything but if it’s saving you from reading the books, you’re welcome, I’m happy to provide my services 🥰 I just wish they would have dated a little bit longer. I like Simon with Isabelle but it’s not formed and explored very well

11. Lydia is basically like you told state secrets Isabelle and be lucky you aren’t arrested lmao “I have orders, I never wanted any of this.”-Lydia

12. it’s hard to take sides because I’m on downworlders side for most things so I agree with Izzy but Lydia can’t just go against the clave without anybody backing her up. also we have to remember that she thinks this needs to be done because she couldn’t save her husband and he died. so maybe a part of her thinks this is necessary which infact they’re going to possibly torture a downworlder and that’s still wrong.

13. well now everyone knows that Alec is engaged 😬

14. I love how most of season one Alec is YOU LIED TO ME because literally almost everyone is lying or deceiving Alec

15. “they’re the ones who tarnished the Lightwood name”.-Alec has a good point because Maryse and Robert but mainly Maryse goes on about how Alec and Izzy need to basically be perfect while they committed atrocities in the past. I do think Maryse had growth in the show but they’re expecting Alec to fix their reputation and that’s a lot to put on your son.

16. and this is why we don’t go home after becoming vampires:

17. you almost kill your mother 😭

18. “Simon, we have always been here for each other.”- clary. oh you mean how he’s been there for you? that’s accurate but have we actually seen clary be there for Simon? yes she helps him when he’s kidnapped but he got kidnapped because of her. I’m sorry but I haven’t actually seen clary actually do something for Simon that didn’t benefit her in a way

19. “you call that love? where I come back to this nothing, where I feed, and I have to hide from the sun, and I can’t bare to be by the people that I love.”- Simon go off 🔥 because she is showing that she did it for herself. oh because I love you Simon! yet you never thought how Simon would process this change

20. Simon had every right to be upset with clary

21. the clave treats jace as some valuable being but here the clave finds out that they have had the cup this whole time 😬

22. “She’s risked everything to find it.”-jace. “and we’ve risked everything for her.”-Alec. literally Izzy almost gets deruned as a result of jace wanting to not take sides until clary is involved. they broke many clave rules but that doesn’t matter to jace. I don’t like the clave but I don’t agree with a powerful cup being in the hands of someone like clary or Jocelyn.

23. I don’t know if Alec has really gone too far with meliorn’s arrest because it’s not like he’s issuing these orders but he is following them. so it’s kinda just as bad, you know????? but after learning about his parents betrayal and jace not having his back, Alec most likely feels he’s ran out of options and thinks this might be the best case scenario (just a thought)

part 2 coming right up

#anti cassandra clare #anti cc #just my stupid opinions #alec lightwood #magnus bane #anti clace #anti clary fray #anti jace herondale #show magnus is superior #show malec is superior #show Alec is superior #putting anti cc on all show shadowhunter posts because i don’t want an pro book fans hating on my shit #shadowhunter show is superior #Alec battling his inner demons no doubt

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askthechronoverse · 6 months ago

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Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

“Alrighty, folks! The goal is simple: serve the most people quickly and accurately to get the most points.” The soda jerk clapped his hands. “Get ready!”

“Give up. You won't win.” The stranger tied the apron tighter around himself.

“Nah. You look like a bad dude. I don't bow down to bad dudes.” Johnny smirked. “Neither do my friends here.”

“No. I'm not the one who decided to “save the multiverse” in order to save her father from the fate he was supposed to have faced a long time ago.” He folded his arms. “One he would have faced if the queen didn't use the Assembly of Master Builders to shield him from it.”

“Nope. I see what he's doing. He's using slander to psych us out. We don't have to listen to that.” Johnny shook his head, disgusted. “Dangervest was the Assembly’s responsibility, by the way. Not like you need to know.”

“That would make sense. If my understanding of history serves, he was a monster of your creation.” The stranger laughed in a way that made Kit stick out her tongue. “A cover-up makes so much sense.”

“Rex Dangervest’s whole schick had nothing to do with the Assem-!” The soda jerk announced the start of the first round, but he was interrupted by the stranger, who moved quickly as the first wave of patrons started.

“Everyone from what was once The Downstairs Realms is responsible for Rex Dangervest’s creation. Ask yourself something, Johnny Stryker: who is Rex Dangervest really?” It was Vito who spoke up as he quickly got a rhythm going in the game.

“That’s basic history, guy. He was the guy who started Armommageddeon. He used my dad to -!” He was interrupted with the stranger's expressions of disapproval.

“No no. I mean, you aren't wrong but there's so much more you're missing. A far deeper history. The Assembly knows it. As do your parents. Looks like they're keeping you in the dark like Dangervest is with his own daughter.” He kept throwing root beer mugs at a blinding pace.

“Since we're talking about history lessons, care to tell us yours?” Stryker was keeping pace with the stranger, which impressed everyone else involved. “You seem to know an awful lot about things that you claim the general public doesn't know. Should I know who you are?”

“I just know someone who knows the truth. Who sees the cover up and lies of the Assembly and the queens of Syspocalypstar and the Unikingdom.” He shrugged. “Of course none of this really matters in the end. Eventually, the world will be as it should be. I won't have to bother with any of this.”

“Care to tell me why, kid?”

“It's simple. I have almost everything I need to finish my assignment. But you're not going to make me monologue about that like some two-bit villain in a cheap comic book. I would focus on the prize.”

“Do we at least get a name to call you so I can scream it as you drop us down the inevitable vat of acid?” Johnny kept his cool, something Kit wished she was able to do.

“I suppose it is time for Kit to know what to call me.” He leaned over to her, a smug aura radiating off his darkened features. “I was given the name Master Apocalypse.”

“Master Apocalypse?” Johnny sped up just a little bit to account for how much he was laughing. “The '80s called. They want their stereotypical villain name back!”

“Like I said: the name was given to me by the person who gave me my assignment.” He shook his head. “I would have chosen something far less sinister.”

“You must think you're the hero then. Especially with all this talk of cover-ups and conspiracies.” The first wave was completed and Johnny and the kids wound up on top. “Heck yeah! We've got this!”

“I don't think I'm the hero. I know I am. If you and your friends are what passes as heroes, we need to redefine the whole thing.” Master Apocalypse laughed, but the laughter was hollow.

“I don't know, my dude. I'm pretty heroic. So are these kids. Even the man you've been slandering has done some good work in his old age.” Johnny’s laugh was more hearty. “For someone who thinks they know a lot about history, you sure don't know the full story.”

“Oh, but I do know about history. I know the history everyone has kept hidden. The history that turns everyone considered heroic into the bad guys. There are so many lies that have been covered up since the beginning of our world and they need to be corrected.” Master Apocalypse was able to keep his pace as he spoke.

“You keep talking, you'll cut yourself with all that edge.” Johnny said with a smirk as he showed off just a little by speeding up.

“I noticed the daughter of the kings of liars has been quiet this entire time.” Master Apocalypse chuckled darkly. “Surely, you must realize that I'm right deep down.”

“She's probably just concentrating on the game. Like you should be doing instead of trying to psych her out.”

“No. Her face is pale. She sees. She understands.” Johnny turned and did see that Kit was drained of all color. She was keeping up with his pace, however.

“Stop insulting my dads. They're each more of a man than you can ever hope to be.” The words sharply torpedoed from her mouth. This earned another laugh from the mysterious being.

“Oh, I sincerely doubt that. How much do you know about Regent Brickowski? How well do you really know him? He's actually a lot worse than your other father, now that I think about it properly. At the very least, your other father isn't lying to the whole kingdom about its own history. There's so much you haven't been taught in your classes, so much information your own father has suppressed. There's an entire culture he isn't telling you about. But at least you're not alone in that lack of knowledge.”

“Is it against the rules to sock him in his mouth?” Kit whispered to Johnny.

“Yeah. Sorry, kid.” Johnny whispered back. “Even if he deserves it.” The round went to Johnny this time. The barkeep announced that this was the last round. “Keep in the game, kids!”

“I am a little curious about what you're talking about, Apocalypse. What is there to the Unikingdom outside of what everyone knows?” Vito watched Master Apocalypse move from bar to bar with ease.

“Oh, why don't you just ask Regent Brickowski?” He tapped an unseen chin. “Then again, it won't matter soon enough.”

“What's going to happen?”

“You won't get me to monologue, either. The only people who will get me to do that are my parents.” Master Apocalypse shook his head. “Focus on your task. You won't win, but you may as well try.”

“You know who says that? People who lose. Bet you come from a whole line of losers.” Johnny flashed the biggest, cockiest grin he could muster.

“The only reason my parents lost anything was because of their parents.” Apocalypse hissed as he pointed to Kit and Vito. “I refuse to let any of you win! I refuse to let the darkness win!”

“Kid. Your name is Master Apocalypse. Ya don't get much more suspect than that.” Johnny rolled his eyes as he slid what felt like unlimited mugs at the growing hoard of drinkers. “Besides. You're on my turf. You're in the 1984 game Root Beer Tapper, a Bally Midway game that was originally a tie in with a beer company! If it says Midway, I'm the master!”

“I wouldn't rest on your laurels just yet. The high score for this one might be yours, but you won't be so lucky in the next game.” Almost as if he willed it, the winner was announced for the final round and the high score was given to the trio. “I'm going to go play Mouse Trap. It's no fun to play one against three anyway.” Master Apocalypse turned and left through a portal.

“Yeah. Hope you end up getting eaten by the cat.” Johnny flipped a silver stud in the air and headed over to an arcade cabinet that was tucked away in a dark corner. “Come on, kids. We're going to go play Carnival. I feel like shooting some ducks.”

The cousin's followed Johnny to the arcade cabinet. At this point, it clearly labeled itself as Tapper and had all the trappings of a Tapper arcade cabinet. Johnny held on to the cabinet and slid the stud he held into the coin slot. He pushed a few buttons and the cabinet transformed into a Carnival cabinet.

“Ah, Carnival. An 1980 arcade game by Sega, developed by Gremlin. Did you know it was one of the first games to have bonus rounds?” He grabbed their hands and the three were transported to a carnival midway. While the smell of cotton candy and fried food permeated the area, the main focus was a shooting gallery. Almost as if it prepared for their arrival, three guns appeared on the counter. “I can take care of this one myself. There shouldn't be too much else to do, but I know the stand next to us has some decent corn dogs.” Johnny grabbed a gun, but Kit and Vito followed suit despite what he said.

“The higher the score, the more we can wipe the smile off of that jerk’s smug face.” Kit growled.

“You got it, kid.” A bell rang and the three began to shoot at targets that looked like ducks. Johnny stopped for a moment to watch Kit hit several ducks in rapid succession and with an accuracy that impressed. “Where didja learn to shoot like that?”

“Uh…” She blinked, having been pulled out of her groove. “I never did? Dad wouldn't let me near a gun. Why? Did I do good?”

“I need to take you into a duck hunting game or something. You'd clean up.” Johnny went back to shooting ducks on his end. The next time he glanced over to Kit, he noticed her aim was less steady and her firing less sure. Vito noticed this as well and lifted an eyebrow.

“I hate to say this, but maybe your father should be locked up?” He didn't sound terribly sure of his words, but that didn't matter. It was enough to earn a glare from his cousin and the return of her ridiculously good aiming. Vito gasped.

“It's like the master breaker punch. I've heard about something like that from RJ's files. He has some amazing strength when he channels his anger. Maybe this is how that ability is channeled through his daughter.” Johnny sounded a little more sure of his theory. “That's going to be something we need to keep in mind as she gets older.”

“The Assembly is watching her, too?” Vito asked as he fired his rifle.

“Yeah. She might be tapped at some point for master builder training, like your sister and you were. I know what her father is going to say, but it won't be up to him by that point.” Johnny continued to help keep the score up.

“You think Uncle RJ will say no?”

“Not just him. Pretty sure Richard would chase us out of that cabin if he's the one with Kit when that time comes. Probably with a frying pan or something. Richard doesn't understand minifigure customs. RJ… he just doesn't trust us.”

“He distrusts the Assembly? Why?”

“He feels like most of the old guard screwed him over in the old days. He likes me and Chiffon, but that's probably because we weren't responsible for what made him go Dangervest.” By this point Kit had stopped shooting.

“You might want to tell us all about that because… isn't that what Master Apocalypse said?”

#⌈the ashes of disaster drift to you⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈days of oblivion⌋#⌈the newspaper isn't antiquated⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈writings⌋

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