#i think its valid to have concerns about what he's going to do because he is new and people may not like it

[gooopy]

Fml. I have mental illnesses for real fhat arent just garden variety anxiety and depression <- sorry it turned into a vent/rant in the tags. The perilous poster

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the mortal emmrich argument scene (all routes)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the mortal romance path scene how I think an argument reconcilation scene could've went emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Mortal Argument Scene

welcome back dearies

lets not dally with this one and get right into it -

starting strong with emmrich reviewing his will and testament/s -

important, but not yet, so do go on -

the emphasis on will tells us alot. coming from a storyboarding background, its easy to see why the emphasis was put on will. emmrich chose mortality, and will thereofre face death head on, as will rook. but due to rook being younger than emmrich (in any capacity), emmrich states that rook will outlive him. now he hasn't said it yet, but his fear is about to rear its head. keep in mind throughout all of this that this man is scared of how much he adores you.

but in the same sentence, we've got, "You've... grown to mean much to me..." - head over heels in love, rip my heart out and serve it to you in a platter, my heart, body and soul is yours type o' love.

I just wanna shake him, oh i just wanna shake him like a bag of treats, but very aggressively. he is so obviously LYING, rook makes a comment earlier in the game about how he is a SHIT LIAR. it sounds the exact same. BUT, and I say but with a hint of 'ah -ha!', lets read between the lines -

I care for you Rook! Deeply. - man has never been down as bad as he is - emmrich has never felt love like this. But there are such years between us - shut up rn I shouldn't heap you with that burden - HERE. he knows that Rook loves him, he can feel it. I imagine between quests they hold eachother's hand as the read books together on the balcony. as they make tea. as emmrich shows rook his mothers recipes. emmrich knows rook loves him, he just doesn't realize can nor accept how much rook loves him.

bonus, BURDEN ME, Im begging you, to BURDEN ME.

DIVERGENCE

god it hurt to replay this scene 3 times

Path 1 - Please don't worry, Emmrich.

he also broke my heart by worrying because i too, love him

fuck this line. i love you but look, I get where emmrich is coming from, but no. no no no, no no. whats fair would the world to be ending and being able to spend every waking moment in eachothers arms, to spend the final moments of 'what if' craddling your insecurities and nurturing love. instead we at the end of the world, arguing, because both rook and emmrich are fucking terrified to lose eachother. something about 'being fair' to someone by 'leaving' them irks meeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

solid and appropriate response

moving on because i have nothing nice to say

get his ass

emmrich is shockingly, overthinking the concept of death. ya know, that thing that cant be soothed or mulled over, pierces his heart and shakes his core? that, thing. yes shockingly, overthinking it. i get both perspectives here. Rook just wants to be taken serously and not for their age gap to come between the love they have finally found. emmrich so scared out of his mind he's trying to avoid it entirely. if you want a really gutteral playthrough before point of no return, pick this. I did, on my blind playthrough, it was a mistake, i cried alot.

unfortunately, very valid on both statement, but also true on both statements. Emmrich is both worried about Rook and insecure about dying. because either way, he loses rook, he loses his time with her. in this line of dialogue, emmrich is vry concerned with burdening rook with his death and the grief that will follow. Rook essentially tries to calm him in the worst way possible and it escalates. im not a fan of this dialogue path at all as the "at your age" comment is so out of pocket.

Path 2 - I mean something to you!

if you were to of told me that the purple rook option is the 'nicest' in these scenarios, I would...not believe you at all. It's still painful, but it's not an 'argument?'

strong start ngl

mans immediately defensive, but his tone of voice isn't raised like in the other scenarios. its more poised with care through it, more 'ugh, yes, i care about you, but this is about death'

in this dialogue path rook attemps to 'waylay' emmrich, aka, distract him and change the subject to something nicer, more comforting. though unfortnately, for people with crippling anxiety, nothing calms the mind when its in black and white mode.

eh, not what I would've gone with saying rook but ya know. eve before a battle, tensions high. still not great

emmrich wants to discuss being a burden to rook and rook is just not having it, im kinda into it.

again rook is trying to waylay emmrich into realising that he is overthinking things. however, to emmrich, this is real, rook may as well be dying in his arms rn. thats how real his fears are. we think back to emmrich being a child and losing his parents in a collapsed building accident. its likely he was there, and survived.

hence why it is so very important that we remember that his romance confirmation is the question, what would my parents want for me? and the answer is HAPPY WITH SOMEONE WHO CARES ABOUT YOU.

he is so terrfieid of death, and you and I both know, that when you have such a fear, it is amplified by 14747% when it is someone you truly care for. let alone the type of connection these soulmates have.

emmrich desperately pleading to talk about being a burden to rook, and rook is still just going, 'no', youre my burden now.

wee woo, a winner in my books because rook is not insulting his very existence or dismissing emmrich.

rook knows that emmrich is scared and would rather talk to him about being SCARED, instead of him being a burden because she fucking loves him and would never leave him.

rook is just as scared as emmrich but in this path, is trying to level with him. this is probably the one path where it concludes and I dont have a clear answer on who said the worst shit. i dont think any of them did, it was just riddled with concern, and a lack of communication.

Path 3 - Love scares you.

Rook pointing out the obvious. blunt and to the point. I do love that Rook is able to identify this straight away

Emmrich, taken aback by the comment by Rook, because it's the truth. he is scared because he loves rook. both by actually loving her and by how much he loves her.

"I can't... at my age" Is what this line is meant to be.

But once again, and we have discovered in previous posts, Emmrich has never considered himself 'worthy' of this type of love. And now that he has the love he has craved for decades, he considers himself too old. most likely due to his belief ssystem morphing over time to, "if it hasnt happened by now, it never will" probably in his 30's. Thats almost 20 years of doubt. We know Emmrich has been in relationships and involved with others since then, but nothing that even comes close to what Rook and Emmrich have. Keep in mind as well that Emmrich hasn't formed a connection with anyone in several years and has solely focused on work (i.e., lichdom) because what else do you do when you have given up?

straight to the point again

reiterating that this is a hard topic for him - kindness in this situation would desecalate emmrich and calm his mind, but unfortunately the end of the world takes no prisoners

man is terrified of love and the grief and vulnerability that embodies it

ouch

ouch

Rook's defensiveness and frustration reaches an all time high. rook wants the love of her life to tell her that he loves her, and emmrich doesn't want to burden his love with the grief that will embody her for the rest of her days. rook walks away feeling defeated, with a hole in her heart. emmrich is left with his overthinking thoughts, and most likely spirals.

Conclusion

In their facial expressions, and I have slowed them down to each frame per second whilst analysing, and both Emmrich and Rook share the same process of emotions after Rook's final statement.

Both Emmrich and Rook start out with a cross look on their face, eyebros tilted, eyes squinted, portraying anger, which is covering defensiveness, which is a defense mechanism for being vulnerable. After Rook says their final statement, this line is what 'pulls them out' of their defensive trances, but its too late, the damage has been done. Their facial expressions switch to a more, 'oh, oh that was just said', it turns to regret. the over arching theme of the game. they regret what they said, and their pride wont let them budge rn. the argument scene is important to the romance considering what happens next in the game.

"We'll talk when we get home, Emmrich. I promise." (the reconciliation line before fighting ghil)

hit me like a frieght train that did when i found out we were in the fade for weeks. emmrich, canonically, cries alone and has cold sweats at night when he is upset. do with that information what you will. it definitely happened when rook was gone. Hence why it takes Rook dissapearing in the fade for several weeks for their walls to collapse completely.

god fight, stuck in the fade, emmrich meticulously searching for rook, crafting the fake dagger, pulling them out.

At the end of the scene, Emmrich looks frustrated and devastated. the type of facial expression where it is clear he wish that conversation had gone differently.

Emmrich has low self-esteem, there is no simpler way to put it. This is apparent in the way he holds himself, in his mannerisms, and the way he reacts to rook expressing romantic interest in him. As two examples, consider the date with Emmrich, "apart from the compliment of your interest?", and in two flirt dialogue lines, he responds stating that he is surprised rook has shown interest in him. he wants this love SO BADLY, but he is so scared especially with how much death is around them. but emmrich is braver than he believes. it just takes, almost losing rook for him to embrace it.

phew, what a rollercoaster. ill have the mortal romance scene break down for you in coming days ♥

[mooooonnnzz]

Hi I just wanna say I read the Dad! Stanley hcs you did and it was sooo goood I loved every bit of it.

I was wondering if you could do a bit of an angsty request where Stanley's child is in there late teens an gets possesed by Bill, like what do you think his reaction would be, since when dipper got possesed by bill, bill physicaly injured dippers body a lot and was just genuinely careless with his body. Also I have no idea when the reader would be possesed by bill mabey after Ford is back to make things extra angsty since ford knows of bill, idk do whatever you like with this request I just like angst with for no reason whatsoever.

Also I did try to find if you had any request rules but I couldn't find any so if you do have rules and this request is something you don't feel comfortable writing then please just ignore this request, I hope you have a brilliant day or night :D.

Another thing I just wanted to mention is I'm sorry for how long this request is.

Far From The Weight of The World

Dad!Stanley Pines x Teen!Reader

❀ 9,1k words its a loottt so if ur ready to hunker down and read a whole bunch this is for u!!

❀ guess who finished far from the weight of the world THIS GUYYY

❀ it wouldn't have ever seen the light of day if it wasn't for @raventeen they helped me sm!! like they helped every single step of the way and chose the direction of where this should go so big thanks to them <3

❀ i hope you all enjoy this! :3

❀ possible tw: description of skin melting off, throwing up blood, self inflicted harm, more blood, uhh broken bones? even more blood

❀ gn!reader

❀ i love dad stan pines smmm

❀ requests r still open hehe

“Sweetheart!” Stan’s footsteps could be heard thumping on the ground towards you. You marched forwards, your throat painfully knotted in a ball, suppressing your sobs and swallowing your words. Your head swirled with the word liar, spinning around hastily. Whispers of Mable and Dipper could be heard distantly behind you, their concerned eyes digging holes right through you. Too swept up by your wind of emotions you ignored their worried looks. 

“We can talk about this, kiddo. Just give me a second.” His fingers curl against your arm but you yank it away before he’s able to wrap them around you. “What do you want, Dad?” You promptly turned around, glassy eyes somberly staring into his wide ones. “Can you please give me a chance. Hear me out,” his voice cracked at the end, his hands twitching to desperately reach out to you and prevent you from taking another step further away from him. “I don’t know If I can trust you, Dad.” Uttering that sentence shattered something within you. Not once have you thought of yourself ever telling your very own dad that you don’t trust him. He had never given you a reason to distrust him. To you, all his past lies were seen as truth to you, undeniable facts that couldn’t be broken apart because his word carried high validity, to you at least. But now, you’re not even sure that he’s telling you the truth right now.

Ford’s heavy shoes sounded on the creaky wooden floors, announcing his presence wordlessly. “[Name], dear. Listen to your father.” He adds. He looked at you with an analytical stare, twisting your stomach inside out. You didn’t like how he looked at you like you were one of his captured anomalies, inspecting you and reading your tense body language, anticipating for the second where you’d act out of pure emotion so he’d supply you with meaningless words that held nothing but empty hope to burn out the flurry of emotions that ran rampant inside you.

“I don’t want to hear anything from you, Uncle Ford.” You spat out. He was the last person you wanted to hear anything from. From time to time, you’ve begged him to tell you what exactly is going around here yet he’d always brush you aside, dismissing whatever you’d ask and move on with the next thing that gripped his attention. “You never wanted to say anything to me until now.” 

Ford, not expecting your answer, stumbled with his words. He shakes his head, almost as if he’s expelling his shock with the shakes and regains his composure. “[Name],” he starts off with a stern tone. “You are acting purely on your emotions. I need you to compose yourself and talk to us when you’re relaxed enough to form a proper sentence that doesn’t have you snapping at us.” 

Your jaw gawks open. “So you’re telling me that I shouldn’t be feeling upset over this? 

Ford clicked his tongue, a twinge of frustration oozing out of him. Everything you’re saying is going off the script Ford had curated in his head. He’s rendered useless as he scrambles for words he can put together in a sentence that’ll feasibly flip your train of thought around and convince you that the way you’re acting is irrational. 

Ford waved his head side to side, unsure with his answer. Stan noticed the apprehension shrouded on Ford’s face and he silently signaled to him to not say what he’s about to say, already knowing that his poor choice of words was going to send this whole situation right on its back. Too stubborn for his own good, Ford stood his ground and opened his mouth much to Stan’s clear distaste of him speaking his mind. 

“Yes but no.” You grit your teeth together, eyes narrowly staring daggers at Ford who looked seemingly pleased with his response.

Stan gulps nervously, taking a cautious step forward. “Sweetie, don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know what–” 

“--You’re telling me that I’m overreacting? I have just found out that my dad has been lying to me since the moment I was born! And to make matters worse, you all are hiding things from me. None of you are bothering to tell me what the hell is going on here. Why are we all so secretive? We all promise to tell each other everything, no more secrets, no more lies! What happened to that? You all know something and I have a right to know as well!”

You heaved out a ragged breath, words spilling out of you in a madden rush. You held down your tongue for too long. Long nights of sneaky meandering had left you scrambling all the pieces they had discarded on secrets of Gravity Falls together, solving and answering all the questions you laid out for them but chose to ignore. All the lies Stan had fed you over the years concerning this supposed lazy town was unraveling right in front of you. What else had he been hiding from you? What other filthy lies had he pushed on you that you so mindlessly believed? 

Stan’s mouth flounders, stammers of jumbled sounds spilled out. His arms are rendered at his side, stunned with your outburst. “I thought I was protecting you.” He whispers, his fingers flexing anxiously. “Dad! This whole summer has been nothing but crazy. I didn’t know that we had half of those monsters in our woods because you lied to me and told me that it’s been my imagination. What if I had gotten close to one thinking that it was all in my head, and the beast mauls my head off. What then, Dad?” 

Stan deflates. Lost for words, he runs a hand down his gray hair. Thinking about finding your bloodied body sent full body chills down his spine and his stomach lurching. He never sat down and thought of the consequences of what he told you. As long as he said that it was all in your head, he thought you would’ve strayed away from them. 

“I’m going outside. Maybe some stupid gnome would actually tell me what’s going on here because nobody here wants to even tell me anything.” The door slammed shut, causing everything on the wall to rattle and almost tip over. “Oh,” Stan drooped his head onto his palms, tears swelling in his eyes. “I really screwed up here.” He whispered to himself, his voice crackly and small. 

Ford patted his back and Stan believed for a quick moment that Ford was going to say something so beautifully uplifting that he’d see the brighter sides of things, but he tells him, “When are you not?” and continues to pat his back.

Stan violently shrugged Ford’s hand off, his hand pushing Ford away from him. “Really, poindexter?” He scoffs, walking off into the living room where Mable and Dipper watched the whole scene unfold. “I thought it would offer some comfort!” He defeatedly argues back, a dejected sigh escaping him when his eyes meet Mable’s watery ones and Dipper’s disappointed glare. “Kids, I—“ Mable swiftly turns her head to the side, mumbling something under her breath as she ambles up to her room. 

“I’m going to find them.” Stan walks in, slipping on a jacket to shield him from the cold. “I’m coming too.” Ford reaches out to grab the doorknob when Stan’s hand stops him from doing so. “I don’t think they want to see you right now.” Stan gingerly shoved Ford out of the way, leaving him to his thoughts as he shut the door behind him. Cursing to himself, Ford rams his foot on the door angrily. 

Venturing far into the lush woods, you grumbled bitterly to yourself. You couldn’t even trust your own family to tell you something so simple. How utterly pathetic is that? 

You fought the urge to punch a nearby tree and continued on, getting yourself lost in the natural maze of the forest. You wanted to get as far away as possible just so you can find time for yourself to cool down. After a while, the cold air started to nip at your exposed arms. The hairs on your body stood up as a cold shiver rippled through you. Hugging yourself to provide some warmth you found yourself sitting on the grassy floor, back leaning against the bark of the tree. 

The soft chirps and squeaks of the animals brought a sense of calmness over you. These woods have been declared dangerous by Stan and for the longest time you never went out here without Stan hovering behind you or Soos mindlessly meandering through the woods with you. Your hands swayed across the green blades of grass, focusing on the itchy feeling that ran through your palms rather than the bitter cold. The faint whistles of the wind swirled around your ears and out around you. Has this forest always been so peaceful? Leaning your head against the trunk of the tree, you closed your eyes shut. Relishing in the comforting nature the woods provided you. 

“Sweetheart?” Your eyes shoot open. “Dad?” Your heart quickens, your head whipping around rapidly. “Sweetie?” Stan’s voice grew closer and closer. The sound of the grass crunching and bending under his steps resounded throughout the quiet woods, his calls becoming more frequent and louder. How did he find you so quickly? 

A shadowy figure, one you’ve grown to recognize, stepped out from the shade and presented himself. “[Name].” Stan sweetly calls out, kneeling down beside you. “Dad? What are you doing here?” 

Stan smiled, opening his mouth but all that came out was a raspy breath. “Wha–” Your voice hitches in your throat. 

Stan’s skin started melting off in a disgusting mess of bubbling flesh. The side of his face became a drooping mess and a crazed cackle left his lips. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, kid!” He points a boney finger at you, melted flesh sludge dripping from the bone. You scramble back, terrified screams ripping out of you. 

“W-What is going on?” You push yourself up from the floor with your hand, bile coating the back of your throat at the horrid sight of Stan’s bloodied flesh sploshing to the floor. “I’m just playing tricks on you!” With a snap of his finger, Stan poofed away in thin air. What took his spot was an ominous floating triangle with a top hat. “Well, well, well, look who it is, [Name]! I knew we'd cross paths sooner or later. I gotta admit, I'm thrilled!” His eye crinkled in a joyous smile. 

“How…” You blinked dumbly at the floating triangle. “I’m dreaming, right?”

“You sure are, kid!” 

A wave of recognition passes through you. This was the god Ford was talking about in one of his journals. Your knowledge of him was not much, but from the tidbits you have read, Ford had admired this god. He went as far as to calling the triangle his muse. What was his name? Wasn’t it– “Bill?” His name spills out of your mouth. “Ah! So you do know about me?” He tilts a little in your direction, his hands clasped together. “Hear anything good?” A glimmer of forlorn hope shimmers in his eye before it’s washed away with an inquisitive look. “I-I think so? My Uncle really liked you from what I had read in his journals.” You squint your eyes in thought.

“Oh, he really liked me.” Bill’s charmed voice had entailed that there was more to the story than what was told but he didn’t give you time to mull over that thought before jumping into the flow of another topic. “But that’s all in the past now, right?” He snaps his fingers, a comfortable looking chair appearing before your eyes. He floated down on the chair, kicking his legs up and crossing them. 

“I heard that a little someone has been lied to, isn’t that unfortunate?” The corner of his eye pulled to the side, almost as if it was a sadden frown. “How did you know?” The chair poofs away.  “I see everything, kid!” His hands fall to his sides and he slowly leans towards you, his eye pulled wide open. Flashes of images you couldn’t quite comprehend flickered by in a brisk montage. “Everything.” He draws out. “Anyways, I've got a deal for you. You give me, I give you. Sounds fair, doesn't it?” 

You raise a brow. “How can I trust you?” You rolled your fingers around the grass, delicately pulling on them. 

“Your dear Uncle Ford trusted me!” He shakes his hands enthusiastically. 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, still not convinced. “You literally pretended to be my dad and melted him right in front of me.” Bill put his fists to his sides, huffing out like a little child. “Can’t a triangle have a little fun here?” He rolled his eye dramatically. You eyed him, skepticism evident on your face. “I don’t know…” You plucked out a few blades of grass from the dirt. “I feel like if you wanted to gain my trust then you shouldn’t have done that.” You crumpled up the grass into a little green ball and tossed it at Bill. The ball passes through his body. 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind once I propose the deal..?” Bill’s eye stretched out and morphed into a mouth with his lips puckered. He whistles out a tune you can’t recognize and innocently kicks the air. “Go on,” You wave your hand out to him. “If you make a deal with me, everything that you’ve been wanting to know will be revealed to you. All you have to do is shake my hand.” He extended out his hand, blue flame engulfing it whole. You blink your eyes in surprise. Was it really that easy? “There’s no catch?” 

Bill’s fingers trembled in anticipation. “None whatsoever!” 

You could trust him, right? Ford had trusted him! Bill even confirmed it himself. And with what you read, Bill had been giving him infinite knowledge. Feeding him thoughts that no one else had thought of before. He did manage to build that portal and come to think of it, wasn’t it triangular shaped? Was that Bill shaped or were you reaching? You think for a minute more, weighing the pros and the cons. Biting your tongue, you looked at Bill. Bill made a deal with Ford and he’s still alive and well, so how bad could it really be?

You bite the bullet and grasp onto his hand, the flame trailing towards you and consuming your hand whole. A maniacal laugh rips through the air and the world stills. The color drains around you, unpleasantly welcoming you to a monochrome world. “That was just too easy!” Bill wipes a tear from his eye, his firm grip on your hand never wavering. “W-What do you mean?” You tried forcefully pulling your hand away from Bill’s iron grip but it felt like your whole hand was encased in stone. No matter how hard you tried prying yourself away from his hold, his hand still didn’t budge. His eye twists into a pleased smile, his fingers thumping against the edge of your palm gleefully. 

“Was I an idiot for trusting you?” Your words came out in a quiet whisper. You can feel the life being sucked out of you as Bill drew his hand back. “Yes! Absolutely!” He said with a cheer, yanking his hand back suddenly, pulling you out of your physical form. Bill wasted no time taking over your body. He rose up with a delighted laugh, his hands running down your body, taking in the new but familiar feeling. “Wow!” He pressed your palms on your lower back, stretching out your back with a few gratifying pops. “It has been so long since I’ve possessed someone!” Cracking your fingers, he turned over to your floating form with an eerie smile. The world bleeds back into its colors and the soft tranquil sounds of the forest flooded your ears. “Funny how we switched places, huh?” 

You let out a shaky breath, your mind relentlessly battering you with words. How was this even possible? How could you be so foolish? You couldn’t even comprehend any of this. Bill moving around and using your body was terrifying. That was physically you and right now, he was joyously ramming your fist into the tree. You can see the skin on your knuckles rip and tear, blotchy patches of blood tainting the light bark. A light tingle of pain buzzed on your knuckles but it went away as quickly as it came.

“You’re so easy to injure! How weak are you?” He observes the damage eagerly, making your finger pinch on a frayed piece of skin. He twisted it and pulled it back, lightly chuckling to himself as he watched pearls of blood bead up from the now exposed skin. “Bill, stop!” Out of instinct, your hand went over to swat his arm away. A cold gust of wind flows through you as your hand phases right through yo–Bill. He stopped, plucking off the skin and flicking it aside.  “If you keep hurting yours–, I mean, me! They’re going to wonder what happened.”

“Not if I tell them that you got attacked!” He said in a sing-song voice, his eyes keenly looking around for anything else that’ll harm your body. “[Name]!” Stan’s voice rung in the air, pulling you and Bill from your thoughts. A sinister smile tug at Bill’s lips as an idea fills his head. Your stomach flips inside out. Discreet grunts and groans seized your attention and you whipped your head over to Bill climbing up a tree. “What are you doing!” Your hands fly to your hair, gripping it tightly. 

“Breaking the bones inside this meaty vessel, duh.” He hoists himself up on a thick branch. “Would a fall from this height kill you?” Bill ponders out loud, shakily standing up. “Are you seriously going to do this!” Your eyes darted from Bill sticking out your foot from under you to the direction where Stan’s voice could be heard. Bill lets your question float up in the air and with a child-like shout, he jumps off the branch, keeping your legs straight. You look away, unable to witness Bill carelessly treat your body like a toy. 

A stomach turning snap sounded in the air. “[Name]!” Stan’s distressed voice alerted you.

You whip your head around to see Stan cradling your body. Bile crawls up your throat upon seeing your twisted leg limply hang on the other side. “Sweetheart? What happened?” Stan’s words rushed out in a flurried frenzy. You slapped a palm to your mouth, anxiously awaiting for Bill to slip up and sell out his identity to Stan. “I don’t know…” You hear your very own voice leave your mouth. Bill’s agitating voice was nowhere to be heard. Vomit fills your mouth and you fight every muscle in your body to not spew it out. “I was just laying on the tree, not doing anything when something attacked me. I…” Bill allows a few tears to cascade down your face before continuing. “I thought I was going to die, Dad. I was so scared!” He dramatically sobs onto Stan’s sweater, purposefully grazing your shredded bleeding knuckle on his jacket. 

A gasp swelled in Stan’s chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I-I…” He harshly shuts his mouth closed, his pupils shrinking upon seeing your bloody knuckle. He was at fault for this, if he had never lied to you, if he would have just told you the truth from the start, you wouldn’t be so injured. Silently he carefully picked you up from the floor. To sprinkle a little more dramatics on the show Bill had out for you, he hissed out in faux pain, shooting your hand to your bent leg. Stan cringed, his eyes avoiding the general direction of your broken leg. “I’m sorry, baby.” He weakly muttered, his eyebrows pinched firmly in worry. 

Stan trekked through the thick foliage with your body curled in his arms. He dodged under branches that stuck out and sidestepped the stones that protruded from the ground. The entire walk was in silence, aside from the periodic sniffles coming from Stan and quiet hiccups. All you wanted to do at that moment was wrap him in a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay, but you weren’t even so sure of that yourself.

When Stan approaches the front door of the shack, a wave of conflicted emotion flickers through Bill’s eyes before he closes his eyes abruptly and goes slack in Stan’s arms. 

Stan chokes out a garbled yell for Ford. He heaves your body over his shoulder, twisting open the door with a slam and barging into the shack. “Stanley?!” Ford frantically ran over to Stan, his hands gesturing wildly at the sight before his eyes. “Th-They passed out in my arms! I don’t know what to do, Stanford!” 

You grapple at your face, desperate to make sense of what’s happening. You watch with a heavy heart when Mable and Dipper scramble to Stan’s side, troubled voices speaking over one another trying to understand what happened to you and to ask if you were dead. Their frantic cries and yells chaotically fill the silence in the shack. Ford yelled over their voices, instructing Stan to quickly settle you down on the couch so he could conduct a proper examination on your wounded body. All Stan could do is go along with his commands, mind hazy with borderline delirium as he stumbles towards the living room. 

“Dad,” you whisper, your fingertips grazing through him. You hold back the sob that scratched at your throat. This can’t be happening right now. 

Cracking an eye open to your direction, you can feel Bill’s sleazy smile draw on your face. Your stomach shrivels up in disgust at the sight. His yellow eyes gleamed under the dimly lit shack as he stared at you. Mable’s rushed steps drew Bill to close your eyes. “Grunkle Stan! Please tell me they’re okay!” Mable has the collar of her sweater pulled up to her mouth, her never ending stream of tears staining the sweater. “Mable. Give him some space.” Dipper murmured, holding Mable back as he tensely watched Stan lay you down. 

Ford eventually came in with a first aid kit. His appearance looked a little more disheveled than before. His hair was strewn about and ruffled, glasses crookedly sat atop of his nose and one of his sleeves was rolled up and cuffed while the other one was untouched. He sucked in a harsh breath upon seeing your split knuckles, dried blood crusted around the wounds and raw skin. The gashes reminded him of his own busted up knuckles when he was possessed by Bill. Alarm signs flared in his face but he batted them away, chalking it up to your injuries being caused by whatever animal had attacked you in the woods when you were alone. He treated the lacerations with antibodies and meticulously wrapped your hand in medical gauze. Gently placing your hand beside you, he looked over to your broken leg, holding a bated breath. Broken bones weren’t his favorite injury to heal since it takes extensive time off from anything physical and you having a broken leg at a time like this wasn’t ideal. He just needed to find ways to heal your leg quickly. 

“I need you all to leave the living room.” Ford clapped his hands together, dragging a hand down his fingers. “W-What, why?!” This was the first time Stan spoke in a while and it surprised Ford. Clearing his throat, he answered: “Because I can’t focus with your eyes hovering all over me. I-I need to think and if I’m going to treat their leg, I need you all to leave.” Against everyone’s wishes, Ford ushered them out,  leaving him alone to fully think about possible treatments he could have you undergo to heal your leg. 

You didn’t have a good feeling about leaving Bill alone with Ford. They had history with each other and having a past with someone like Bill doesn’t seem like a good thing. 

“Fordsy…” 

Ford’s body physically recoiled inwards at the familiar nickname. His head darted around the room, helplessly searching for the owner of the voice. He can’t be here can he? That voice just sounded so eerily similar to yours, but why would you call him Fordsy? Blood pumps in his ear drums, obstructing his hearing. 

“Sixeerrr.” His fingers curl around his arms. The light glow of horrifying unforgettable eyes glimmer in the corner of his eyes. He turns over to see you sat up on the couch, a smile stretched from ear to ear as Bill’s eyes shone into his. Ford’s blood ran cold, his mind swirling like a whirlwind. “Bill?” His heart pounds behind his rib cage. 

“The one and only, Sixer.” Hearing Bill’s voice crackle through your own instilled despair all over Ford’s body. Taking a wary step back, his shaky eyes watched as Bill threw your legs down the couch, your left eye flinching closed as pain shivered through Bill. He severely underestimated how much pain your leg would cause him. To fight against it, he slammed your leg on the floor. Pain jostled through him, a shuddering sigh blowing past your lips. The aching pain overtook your leg for a moment before it relented into a numbing buzzing feeling. “Much better!” He stands up, smiling broadly. 

Ford sucked in a stuttering breath, his eyes fleeting over to the hallway. “What do you want, Bill?” 

“I don’t know…” He rolled your head in thought. “Maybe the rift to the portal? It’s a crazy thing to ask, I know!” He laughs to himself. 

You wanted to bash your head on the wall. This was the reason why he made a deal with you. It was because of a stupid rift. You’ve only heard bits and pieces of the importance of the rift, but you knew it was serious business with how you heard Ford talk about it in passing. You need to find a way to stop Bill. 

Ford sneered. “Try all you want, Bill. But you’re not getting the portal.” Bill rolled your shoulders, earning a few noisy crackles of your bones. Ford tenses up, readying himself for the fight that’s about to pursue when Bill charges towards him, side stepping him at the last second and darting out of the living room. “Haha! I got you!” He teases, hissing out in pain when he applied too much pressure on your busted leg. “Stanley!” Ford yelled out, stumbling over his own feet as he ran after Bill. Hurried footsteps stomp down on the stairs, panicked talking and breaths littered the air. “[Name] is possessed by Bill!” A chorus of “WHAT?” echoes in the house. 

He skids to a stop in front of the open vending machine. Ford tugged on his hair, mumbling to himself in shock. How does he know the password? Wasting no time to dwell on that, he pads down the stairs. His stomach lurches forward when he notices Bill step inside the elevator, a snarky smile on your face as he turns around and waves at Ford. “Bill!” He launches himself forward, missing a few steps of the stairs and landing on the ground near the elevator. He trips over to the closing elevator, his fist slamming on the door as it shuts. 

“Ford, what is going on?” Stan pants out. Ford rapidly presses the elevator button, anxiously watching as the elevator dinged on down to the bottom. An idea passes through your head. Mumbling a self-motivating sentence Mable had showed you, you dived straight through the floor, phasing through the other two rooms and landing in the lab room. As stupid as it sounds, you’re going to repossess your body back.  

“Bill, he–he has [Name]!” Ford delivers a punch to the buttons, knocking the plate off its screws. Stan’s face contorts into a mixture of anger and concern. “He has what!? How the fuck does Bill have [Name], Ford!” Ford rested his forehead on the wall. “Now’s not the time to freak out, Stanley!”

Stan clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together. “It’s the perfect time to freak out, Stanford! Bill has my kid!” 

“Bill has [Name]?” Mable’s shrill reverberated through the empty staircase. “Kids, you can’t be here!” Ford warns, shooting out his hand to stop Mable and Dipper from getting any closer. “We want to help, Grunkle Ford.” Dipper sternly said. “That’s a funny joke, kid.” Stan chuffs out dryly, his attention snapping towards the elevator that was now rising up the shaft, dinging with each stop. “It’s not a joke!” Dipper dipped under Ford’s arm and stood in front of the elevator, Mable following in suit. “Stanley, do something!” Ford gestures to Mable and Dipper who are unmoving from their spot. Stan scoffs, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist. “They’re already here, Stanford. There’s no point in stoppin’ them now.” 

With a loud chime, the elevator pulls back its doors. The twins were the first to step inside, whispering to themselves as Ford and Stan walked in. Mable rushes over to the panel containing three buttons and using her tippy toes, she slams the last button with the palm of her hand. The elevator registers the destination with a slight rumble and shuts the door closed, leading them down to Ford’s lab. 

Ford could see Stan’s harsh breathing and clenched fists out the corner of his eye. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, he steels both him and Ford with: “We’re going to save them, Stanley.” Stan breathes out, teetering his head back with his eyes shut. “I hope you’re right about that.” 

The elevator quivers to a stop, the doors creakily pulling open. The four of them step out of the elevator and into the lab. “I was expecting it to be destroyed down here.” Dipper comments. 

Through the protective window, Ford could see Bill fighting with himself, your body laying limp for a few seconds before revving back up to life. He watches the cycle repeat for a few more times before shaking his head. “He’s outside.” He advises everyone. 

In a blink of an eye, Stan was already out into where Bill was, blowing countless angry questions at his face, his eyes shifting everywhere but at you. “Woah, woah, woah!” Bill took a cautious step back as he watched everyone circle around him, caught off guard with the sudden intrusion. “Don’t get your underwear in a twist, haha, am I right?” 

Pure and utter silence. 

Bill’s smile falters. “Okay, touch crowd!” 

“Cut the crap, Bill. Give me back my kid!” Stan grunts out. “I can let them talk to you! After all, they’re up here.” He taps the side of your head. “Stop messing around!” Ford takes a step toward Bill. “Don’t come any closer!” Your own voice filters through Bill’s interdimensional voice. Ford hesitates in his steps, sharing a cautionary glance with Stan. Shuffling your hand behind you, he pulls out the shimmering rift. “I will break this!” He threatens, flipping it upside down. 

Ford narrows his eyes at Bill. “You would’ve done so by now. What’s stopping you?” He motions Dipper and Mable to sneak past Bill and hide behind him, just in case he decides to do anything that’ll compromise the rift and you. “Nothing!” Bill strains out, trying to wiggle the rift out of your grasp. Ford takes notice of your white knuckles and connects two and two together. You’re somehow fighting against Bill for your body. “Fascinating…” 

“Aghh! Why can’t this stupid kid let go!” Bill grumbles, using your other hand to scrape at your clenched hand. He scratched and clawed until the skin on your hand was red and raw. “Is [Name] currently fighting against you?” Ford inquires, a delighted smile on his face. “W-What? No!” Bill plucks your pinky finger off the rift. “See! I’m in total–” Your body jerks forward, and for a slight second, your eyes glinted back, only for you to be propelled backwards. With a shake of your head, your eyes blink and Bill’s eyes are back on you. “[Name] is a fighter, that’s for sure!” He awkwardly laughs out, still regaining control over your body with how he waverly stumbled side to side. 

Taking advantage of his vulnerability, Ford sent a quiet signal to Mable and Dipper. The twins tackle Bill from behind. A startle yelp leaves his mouth as he falls forward. “Stanley the–” Stan was already swooping in and snatching the rift out of your hands in one swift motion. Bill's face planted on the floor. “This stupid weak body!” Bill whines out, having your hands buckled tightly to your back by Dipper and Mabel. “Get something to tie their arms together with!” Stan said, jogging back into the lab, discreetly hiding the rift away from Bil’’s prodding eyes.

“I was so close!” Bill pressed your face into the dirt. The sharp tiny stones cut into your cheek and all Bill could do is focus on the itching pain rather than the humiliating feeling of being pinned down by two twelve year olds. Ford grabs the rope and securely binds your wrists together. The twins finally shuffle away from your body, watching Bill struggle under the restraints. “I’m going to be traumatized by the end of this.” She lets out a dejected sigh. “I feel like nothing can phase me after this.” Dipper adds. 

“How are we going to get them back into their body?” Stan questioned Ford who was double checking the bindings on your wrist, making sure they weren’t too tight to burn your skin off but tight enough to keep Bill detained “I think I have an idea on how…” He breathes out, looking over to Stan, face full of unease. “But it might not work if everyone isn’t present.” 

Stan found himself staring dumbly at the diagram that Ford had etched into the dirt with a stick. “What is this?” Ford finished the final symbol within the diagram, discarding the stick behind him. “A zodiac diagram.” He says, dusting off his hands. “And what does this have to do with saving [Name]?” 

Ford spares a quick glance over to you. Mable and Dipper sat on each of your sides, keeping a careful eye on you as you alternated with yourself and Bill. Dipper’s face contorted into a painful expression whenever you’d jerk your head upwards, a random assortment of words spilling out of you before your head flies back down. That agonizing process continues for what feels like an eternity and he could clearly see the toll it’s taken on your body. Stan couldn't make himself  watch you suffer, biting his lip so hard blood builds up on his lip.

“Yes.” Ford curtly nods his head. “I had always hypothesized what this would be used for but It never occurred to me until now that it could be used like this.” 

Stan doesn’t like the slight sound of uncertainty in Ford’s tone. How could Ford be so sure that it works? “So, you’re telling me that you have never done this before?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” He shrugs, pushing up his glasses that were sliding down his nose. “Don’t worry about whether it works or not. We don’t have time to think about what if’s.” Curiously eyeing the symbols on the floor, he pondered in his head. Who could possibly stand on what zodiac?

Mable had walked right next to Stan, she looked like she had something to say when her eyes fell on the diagram, her eyes shining. “That one reminds me of Wendy.” She points at the zodiac that was an ice bag. An idea dawned upon Ford. “Does it now?” He kneels down to Mable’s height. “Mable, dear. Can you look at these zodiac signs and tell me who they remind you of?” 

Mable was quick to point out and tell Ford each symbol that reminded her of a person. Jotting down all the names in his head, he began calling each and every one of them, stringing Mable along to help him convince them to come over to the Mystery Shack. One by one, they all started pooling in. Questions sprouted from one mouth to another and every single time, their questions received answers when their eyes landed on your struggling form.

“Okay, everyone stand in your respective spots and hold hands!” Ford’s voice was quiet in the distance. Stan had found himself kneeling in front of you, his expression unreadable but his eyes carried a deep sorrowful guilt to them. “Feeling guilty, Stanley?” Bill drawled out, pulling your heavy head up, only for it to be knocked down to the side. Your body was growing weak and Bill was tirelessly fighting against it. Unbeknownst to Stan, you were right next to him. Your unrelenting attempts to gain your body back had caused an aggressive strain on your body. You couldn’t stay in it without feeling utterly exhausted, allowing Bill to abuse your weak spot and take over your body. But that weak spot had also applied to him as well. You were trying to regain your breath before you’d try again. 

“Can it, Bill.” He scoops you up from the floor, walking towards the diagram. 

“You don’t have to do this!” Bill aggressively barked out, throwing himself around in Stan’s hold. “I do have to do this. You’re in my kid's body.” He grunted, throwing your body over his shoulder. “They made a deal with me! I won this body fair and square.” Bill argued, hammering your head down on Stan’s back. “Look, I just found out about you not too long ago. But for someone who was supposedly this all powerful demon, you pathetically really weak.” 

He approaches the diagram, setting your body down in the middle. “That’s because I haven’t revealed my true potential yet!” He struck the back of your head hard on the floor, causing your vision to go bleak for a moment. “Do you really need to do all of that?” You grumble, rubbing the back of your tender head. “I do what I please.” He mumbles to himself, rolling over on your stomach. 

Standing in his spot, Stan locked hands with Ford and Soos. “It’s most likely going to feel weird! Stick it through and don’t, I repeat, don’t let go!” A blinding blue light shoots up from the middle and travels through the lines of the diagram, illuminating the place in a bright blue light. 

“No!’ Bill writhed around. He could feel himself slipping away. Your forehead makes direct contact with a rock. He smiles at it, knocking your head against it again. “Oh, Billy! You are just full of ideas today.” He whispered, shuffling over to the stone to the point where he was hovering over it. He laid your head down, feeling the cold stone press against the middle of your forehead. Breathing in through clenched teeth, he raised your head up high. He nailed your head down on the rock, splitting through skin. You could feel the ghost touch of blood trickle down your forehead. 

He laughed crazily as he continued to bash your head onto the rock. With each blow, the rock was painted with more and more blood. He was going to kill you at this rate. Bill lowered his head back down on the rock and you shut your eyes closed. You weren’t going to see Bill crack your head open. But the blistering pain never registered, peeking your eyes open you saw Stan had caught your head in his hand. 

Ford yelled out Stan’s name but Stan ignored it. His chest rapidly heaved in and out as he fell to his knees, resting your dazed head on his lap. You had noticed that Bill was slipping out of your physical form. Darting over to him, you grabbed his hand and ripped him out. Before you could hear Bill’s flurry of cries, you dove right in, repossessing your body once again and hopefully for the last time. 

Grumbled groans escaped you as you regained all your senses. You jolted up in striking pain. Everything hurt, even more than the last you took over. Your stomach rumbled, a flood of whatever liquid shot up into your mouth. You leaned to the side, expelling the fluid. Peeling open your weary eyes, you felt yourself grow nauseous at the pool of blood in front of you. “[Name]!” Stan grabbed your face, directing it toward him. He looked at your eyes and a look of relief settled on his face. “Dad?” You groggily said, your whole world spinning. “Are you okay? Is that demon gone? Where is he?” The massive load of questions made you want to vomit all over again. 

I’m still here! Bill’s grating voice grinding against your brain. You crumble under Stan’s hold, your head thumping in pain “No. He’s still in my head.” You felt another rush of blood clamor up into your mouth. You meekly shove Stan’s hands away from your face, hurling another dump of blood. Cautious voices sounded all around you, your vision distorting in a blurry mess. “Dad?” You forcefully focused your eyes on Stan’s face. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” Talking was enough to strip you away from all the energy you had left and you weren’t sure you had enough time to say anything else before Bill took over again. 

“I know, baby. I know. We’re goin’ to get help, stay with me. Please.” Stan said something to Ford you couldn’t quite catch.

You felt his arms wrap around you and lay you down back on his lap. I’m going to kill you. You scratched at your aching head. “His voice hurts. Hearing it hurts so much.” You murmured, feeling a hand run down your arm up and down soothingly. “Stay strong for me, sweetheart.” A light kiss was pressed on your forehead. 

You cried out, feeling yourself being pulled away. 

“Stanley! Come back now!” You could make out Ford’s scream at Stan. The world was fading before you and you couldn’t help but break down as you heard Bill cackle in your head. Stan saw your eyes flicker to yellow and he delicately placed you down on the floor, running back to his spot. Bill seamlessly takes over, blinking himself awake as he’s shuffling your body up to your knees.

“This is all your fault, Stanley Pines. [Name]’s death will be on your hands!” He bellows, purposely allowing your voice to break through. The strenuous action causes him to tremble forward, blood splattering on the grass. Bill started yelling nonsensical blabbers, anything that would make Stan budge from his spot, to stop the whole process but he stayed put, directly staring Bill down. Bill fell to the side, coughing up bile and a random assortment of fluids. 

In a flash of blue, you feel yourself fully grounded back into your body. A feeling you feel like you haven’t felt in forever. 

A grinding yell echoed in your head. You are so disgustingly weak! Bill screamed in your head. Another splitting headache bore into your head but all you could do is lay there and take it in, feeling so worn-out and droopy that you weren’t able to physically react. I didn’t do much and you’re dying! I did all of this for nothing, for nothing! And it is all your fault! I should’ve broken every single bone in your body and twisted your neck. At least I would’ve gained something from that! You are so useless! 

He was wreaking havoc in your mind. The blinding pain subsided to a lingering pain, black dots swarming your vision. He seems to be doing last minute damage before he’s left with no other choice but to leave your body. With a rugged distorted babble from Bill, your whole world went dark. 

The waiting room was cold, so numbingly cold. Stan casted his gaze down to his hands. Your blood had stained them. He couldn’t tell if it was the blood from your forehead, or the blood you vomited out. But your own blood had been smeared all over him and it made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t erase the image of your cold limp body laying on the grass, face covered in streaks of blood. This was all his fault. If he had just told you how things were from the start, this wouldn’t have happened. You would’ve been next to him, chattering his ear off about something irrelevant while asking him multiple times if he was listening to you. Despite his thoughts, your soothing presence wasn’t there to console his mourning heart. 

Your doctor had came in earlier to share the state that your body was in. Everyone listened intently to her words as she described the damage that Bill had caused to your body. She said doctors were so mortified with your condition, labeling it as one they have never seen before with how many injuries you sustained on the outside and inside. Stan and Ford had to dodge some questions that had the doctor fired at them, excusing your evenstive wounds with a slip off a mountain, silly teenage activities that almost cost you your own life. She didn’t buy it. 

The doctor's slight graphic description of your injuries only cemented the guilt deeper into Stan. He was a bad father wasn’t it? The only thing he prided himself in for doing right was so easily taken away from him in a blink of an eye. He really was a screw up. Ford and his Dad were right. 

“Stanley.” Ford’s hand on his shoulder withdrew him from his thoughts. “We need to go home. It’s late.” He looks briefly to the seat next to him. The twins had sat on the same seat, their muddled expressions were no longer on their face, instead they were sleeping peacefully, heads leaning against each other. “The twins are asleep.” He tells him. Stan’s gaze glued on his tainted hands. “I’m staying here.” He weakly said. “You need sleep, Stanley.” 

“I can sleep here, Ford.” He snapped, expression tight. “They are going to kick you out.” 

Stan shrugged, clasping his hands together. “Then they’d hafta kick me out then.” 

“I’m not leaving you here.” 

Stan leaned his head back against the wall, huffing out. “I’m not in any mood to fight with you here.” Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his burning eyes. “I’m staying here and there’s nothin’ you can do about it.” He placed his glasses on his lap and crossed his arms, closing his eyes as he shifted around to get comfortable enough to sleep. “Always been so stubborn.” Ford shook his head, getting up from the seat with a light groan. “I’m leaving.” He picks up the slumbering twins, being extra careful to not jostle them around and wake them. Stan grumbled in response, hearing Ford’s footsteps fade away in the distance. 

Stan doesn’t know how long it’s been, all he knows is that he had fallen asleep with the way his neck was sore. “Sir?” A voice broke through his drowsiness. “Sir?” They call out again. “Hm, wha?” Stan peeled open his eyes, the glaring hospital lights momentarily blinded him. Covering his eyes with his palm, he squinted at the lady in front of him. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“We’re closing up for the night, sir. I need you to leave.” She calmly said, offering a soft smile to Stan. “But my kid, they’re in here. I need to be here if anything happens.” He scrambles to put his glasses on. “I assure you sir, whoever your kid is, will be fine. We will keep a lookout if anything happens.” 

“How are you guys goin’ to keep a lookout when you’re all home sleeping away like there isn’t people dying in here!” Stan argued. “Now's not the time, sir. I need you to leave or you’d be personally escorted out by the guards.” Stan sighed, standing up from his chair. “You don’t have to do all that.” He mutters, cracking his back before walking out. Walking out into the summer night, he pulled out his phone to check the time. 

11 P.M. it read. It looked like the doctors allowed him to stay overtime. Usually they’d kick people out of the waiting rooms by around 9 P.M.

His eyes freeze at the baby picture of you on his lockscreen. The photo was taken on your fourth birthday. Stan had gone all out, as he always did, and got you a little birthday hat, little cupcake with a candle that had your age on it, and a mess of confetti and other birthday assortments. You had such a large smile on your face as you were mid bite into your cupcake. He remembered the day so vividly as if it happened yesterday. He clenched his phone tightly, tears flooding his vision. Why did it have to be you? Running his arm roughly over his eyes, he sniffed. He shoved his phone back into his pockets and started walking back to the shack. 

Ford found himself being startled awake by a knock on the door. Sluggishly getting up from the couch, he walked over to the gift shop entrance. He opened the door to be pleasantly surprised to see Stan. He stepped aside, letting Stan walk in. “Kicked you out?” 

“Yup.” Stan accentuating the ‘p’.

“Told you.” 

A quick moment of silence takes over before Stan breaks it. “Is this all my fault?” 

“You were just trying to protect them.” Ford walks over to Stan, shoving his hands under his armpits. “Look where that got ‘em.” Stan cracked his thumb, whispering something to himself before timidly looking at Ford. “Do ya think you can stay with me tonight?” He sheepishly scratches his cheek. “I don’t think I can trust myself bein’ alone or whatever.” 

Ford earnestly smiled at him. “I don’t mind.” Stan nods. “You sleep on the floor though.” 

Stan’s phone loudly rattled on his nightstand, his ringtone noisily blaring its song. “Turn it off!” Ford cried out, folding his pillow over his head. Stan arose from his abundance of blankets and grabbed his phone, dragging it off the nightstand. He squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the blurry text. Stan reached out for his glasses, shoving them on his face and directing his eyes back on the screen. The word hospital flashed on his face. 

“It’s the hospital!” He swiped his finger, answering the call. He put his phone to his ear and anxiously waited. “Stanley Pines?” A snotty voice spoke from the phone. “Yes!” He clears his throat. “Yes, yes. That’s me. Why’re you callin’?” 

“[Name] has woken up and…” Stan had blocked everything else she said and shut up from the bed. “They’re awake!” He announced, shedding off his blankets and launching off his bed, accidentally stepping on Ford in the process. The whole morning was spent dashing around the house, vigorously getting dressed and making sure everyone was ready to head over to the hospital. After Ford’s triple check, they all clamored inside in the car and drove to the hospital. 

Stan burst into your room, his eyes locking with your bandaged form. “Dad!” You weakly called out, a shaky smile on your face. “Pumpkin!” He sighed out, relieved at seeing your beautiful smile. He wraps you in his arms, burying his face into your hair as he sobs. “I thought..I thought–!” He blubbers out. More welcoming arms wrap around you, wailing wracking through the air. “[Name]!!” Mable dragged out. “Don’t scare us like that ever again.” Dipper sniffed, scrubbing his eyes clear of tears. “Welcome back, kid.” Ford plants a kiss on the top of your head. 

“I’m here guys, you don’t have to worry so much.” You laugh, Stan wiping your tears with his thumb. “How can we not? We almost lost you, pumpkin.” After a tearful reunion, everyone stepped back, allowing you to breathe. They only gave you a few more minutes to yourself before they bombarded you with apologies. Mable and Dipper were stuck to your side, each of them giving you their own version of puppy eyes. Mable was more into it than Dipper, but you still accepted their apologies with a big hug.

“I’m sorry too, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I should have been honest from the get go.” You took Stan’s hand, patting it like you would a dog. “It’s okay, Dad. I forgave you long ago. I should have followed what Ford said and calmed down.” You slightly glare at Ford. “Though, I didn’t like how he said it to me at the same time, so maybe I am justified in my anger?” 

“Ford doesn’t know how to talk. What’s new?” Stan knocked his shoulder with Ford who rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’m the butt of the joke. As always.” 

“If it isn’t you! Then it would be Dipper,” Mable pokes at him. “But me and Grunkle Stan told all the jokes possible so it isn’t as funny as making fun of you, Grunkle Ford! You’re so nerdy and losery, more than Dipper. And that isn’t a good thing.” 

A crackly laugh leaves Stan. “Thanks for explaining, dear.” Ford said with a strain, his smile wavering. “Someone one upped you, Dipper.” You chuckle. “I don’t know if I should revel in it or feel sad for Ford.” Dipper tapped his finger on his chin. “Don’t overthink it, dude.” You flick his forehead. 

“And Grunkle Ford, where is your apology?” Mable raised her chin up high, doing her best attempt of a haughty queen looking down at her jester. Ford scoffs, “I’m so sorry, your humble majesty.” Dipping his head low to mimic a bow. 

“Oh?” You and Mable share a bewildered expression. “I wasn’t expecting him to actually do it.” You look over to Dipper who had an uncomfortable expression on his face. “I don’t like what’s going on here.” 

“Wait, are you going to have a cool scar on your forehead now?” Mable questions, pointing at your bandaged forehead. Bumbling conversation fills the air, laughter occasionally humming here and there. In the end, they all had to leave for your routine check up by the doctors. Stan was the last one to bid goodbye to you. Kissing your forehead, he held onto your hand, his eyes glistening with tears. 

“I love you so much, kiddo. If I had lost you back there, I dunno what would have happened to me.” He caresses his thumb against your hand. “Don’t say stuff like that, Dad. I’m here, that’s what counts.” 

You share a long hug together, with a few tears being shed.

“I know, I know.” Giving you one last kiss and embrace, he waves you goodbye. 

“I love you!” 

“I love you more, Dad!”��

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

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[hotheadedhero]

In Unrequited Love - Part 3

AN: Hey, can I be sappy with y'all a moment? When I first started this story, I was admittedly pretty proud of what I came up with but I never anticipated the amount of love it would receive, so thank you everyone! <3 I also thank you for your patience, you have all been great 😋 With that said, I now bestow the conclusion to this renegade of emotion

Part 1 - Part 2

Donatello x Reader

Pathetic. That’s the one word that keeps ringing in your ears like echoes of a bug-infested cavern, the erratic scuttling serving loudly as your reminder. In no respect towards yourself, you are. All you have done since Casey escorted you back home is wallow in bed, tossing around the agonising reprieve that you are a love-strung puppy awaiting its next pat on the head. That’s why you’ve kept texting Donnie to a minimum; cut yourself off from the source and deal with the withdrawal symptoms. Doing this has you riddled with guilt but what else are you meant to do? Everybody loves somebody, right? But you don’t want to love anybody if it isn’t him. Perceivably dramatic, yes. After all, he is still a valued friend. Currently, the way you see it, it’s best to let yourself get over this puppy-dog sickness before that friendship can continue. Again, dramatic but the only logical option with April so tantalisingly strung in the picture.

Living a life of solitude hasn’t been all bad. For starters, you’ve been able to rest your ankle. Walking on it is still a fair challenge but it’s much more manageable than it was before. These past couple of days have also given you amble opportunity to reflect, as it were. It’s kind of easy to understand why one would fall for the resident bad boy in High School but a mutant turtle living in the sewers? No disrespect to Donnie, of course, but you’re just surprised. You don’t even think about all of that when you think of him. All that comes to mind is the heavenly warmth of his eyes; the soft care in them when you would help him out in the lab or when he’d be tending to one of your bumps. Euphoria’s temptress beckons you in once more in its rose-tinted glaze as you fantasise about some superfluous daydream involving him. The sweet melodies enrapture you in this cosy bubble as you curl up in bed but the sharp force of reality is swift and knocks you down before a peak is seized.

Perhaps trying to get over this infatuation isn’t quite going as planned. Groaning out into the open air, you throw a pillow into your face and continue your muffled whining. This is so unfair. Why can’t he be the one that you don’t want? You just can’t seem to escape the fact that you need him. In your state of disarray, you’ve even tried to figure out how to become the one that he thinks about. To try and curate him into being the other half of what you’ve never had. Closeness. A deeply set solitude that seemed so alien to you before you started hanging out with him. Time is slipping at this point. You swear you must be going crazy because of it. There have been a couple of nights when you swear something - someone - has been lingering outside your bedroom. Yet, when you get up to check, there’s nothing there. Part of you hopes that it’s your long-awaited love checking up on you whilst the other screams that you have indeed lost your mind. 

As it would turn out, you’re not as deluded as you might think yourself to be. Indeed, Donatello has tried many a time to meet you in person but to no avail. Many times he has attempted to knock on your window only for his courage to crawl back into the ground and, alas, he does the same by retreating to his home in the sewers. What is he meant to do? You hardly message him if at all these days. Considering the state of injuries you’d endure, he’s worried about you. He has every right to be worried about you. What more could happen to you whilst unsupervised? He doesn’t want to be overly protective but he has valid grounds for such concern. His only assurance that you’re alright is when he sees your shadow through your curtain at night but that isn’t enough. Of course, it isn’t enough. He wants to care for you and cater to your every need and undying whim. 

If only words could do him justice in articulating how he feels about you but he has never been so eloquently spoken unless it’s with regards to the sciences. He’s yours but you’re not his. He just wants you to be with him. If he had to - if he could - he would take the light out of the stars to help you see that. Anything for you to understand just how much he loves you. These spats of poetry are easy enough to site to himself but he knows he would tumble the moment he does as much as even consider reciting such lullabies to you.

Donnie leans over his desk, head in his hands, and sighs heavily for the umpteenth time this day, ever thankful that the streets have been quieter than usual. It’s not as though he can focus on much of anything. All surfaces of his brain have been overtaken and overruled by the thought of you. At this point, he doesn’t even care if nothing happens between the two of you. More so than anything, he just wants you back in the lair. It doesn’t matter if you’ll never be more than friends, he misses his lab partner. It isn’t as though he’s been particularly subtle in his grovelling, either. Figuring out that he had a crush on April was a no-brainer but this has been much more obvious and much more detrimental. His brothers can’t seem to get him out of this funk as much as they may try. Day in and day out, it’s the same thing: Donatello sulking in his lab, staring off into space and pretending to look busy on one of his gadgets. Desperate times call for desperate measures and if he needs a smack up the head, there’s only one person for the job. 

“Come on, Donnie, when are you gonna stop beating yourself up over this?” Raph asks, palming at the desk and resting his body weight against it. 

“Oh, yes, because I stand so much of a chance with (Y/n),” his brother remarks sarcastically. 

The shorter of the two shifts his attention elsewhere, lips turning to the side shamefully. He never wants to feel bad about poking fun or laying out the hard truths of their shared situation being mutants. The bitter contempt within his brother's voice is fair given the fits of teasing in concordance with the cold facts that mutants and humans can’t be. In hindsight, he and his brothers could have treated the situation with more care. Still, as brash as he can be, Raph hates to see a family member suffering as such. Whilst his methods aren’t all conventional, sometimes it’s necessary. 

Raphael huffs and rolls his eyes. “You know what you need?”

“For you to go away?”

“No,” he responds quickly, stifling the annoyance beneath bated breath, “what you need is to get your head out of this storm cloud. Sitting around and moping all day isn’t gonna change anything. So what if you don’t stand a chance? You won’t know until you try.”

“Thank you, Raphael, your input is valuable as always,” Donnie scorns rudely once more and exhales heavily. “I think I just want to be left alone.”

As heartbreaking as it is, such a wish can be respected, especially by the turtle that frequents isolated periods when he’s in a bad mood. Raph takes his leave and reconvenes with Casey for their night of watch duty. They sit atop an apartment roof, scathing the barren area for trouble that never seems to come. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before the main matter at hand becomes the point of conversation. 

“He just needs to take action,” Raph claims as he smacks a fist down into his palm. “I know we haven’t exactly been supportive but it’s eating him up. The sooner he gets it over with, the sooner he can be done with the whole thing.”

Casey’s cheeks puff up into his hands and he frowns, only for a wry grin to quickly take his lips. “Or, he just needs the expert to give him a helping hand.”

“Oh? You’ve changed your tune.”

“Hey, as long as he isn’t trying it on with Red, I’m all good.” Jones shrugs and pulls out his phone. “Now, watch a pro at work.”

Just a few blocks down from our duo lies your rotting form within the confines of your bedroom. It feels as though the space has somehow gotten smaller these last few days. You’ve chosen to spread eagle on the floor seeing as the bed has suddenly become uncomfortable, too. Rolling onto your side, you grab your phone and flick through your music, every song you pass turning out to either be a love song or something somber. Thanks, fate. Turning out to be a great ally here. You scroll a little longer in search of a distraction when a notification takes your attention. 

Hockey Junkie: Hows the ankle treatin ya, everyone in the lair misses u

It hasn’t been uncommon for any of the gang to message you but Casey being somewhat sentimental isn’t inherently natural. You suppose it was only a matter of time. You have been quiet for a short while now. If this has been good for anything, at least you know your friends care about you. It’s only fair that you halt your pitiful oath of silence. 

Nerd’s Assistant: I can walk on it fine but I might give it another day or two just to be sure Hockey Junkie: Playing safe, gotcha Hockey Junkie: Forget that crap tho, get your butt down here, the guys think ur dead

You huff a laugh to yourself and rest your weary head against your folded arm as you roll onto your stomach. In truth, you could have returned to the lair a couple of days ago but that sinking sensation sullies your stomach any time you contemplate the idea. All the more reason to stick to this seclusion. Without knowing what to say, you put your phone down and sigh into the carpet. The sweet melodies from your speaker are almost all-encompassing until your phone dings again. Then, again and for a third time before you decide to take a look.

Hockey Junkie: Look lemme be real with you Hockey Junkie: Gap tooth aint doing so hot right now Hockey Junkie: Can you at least give him a visit? Do it for your favorite classmate yeh?

The last cocky comment goes amiss with the main picture here. What’s wrong with Donnie and what has it got to do with you? All you can think on the matter is that he misses having someone to vent about April to. No, that isn’t fair to him. There’s more to him than just being madly infatuated with her. He’s a beautiful person of vision, albeit a little on the awkward side but that just makes him all the more adorable. Seeing as you haven’t replied to a lot of his texts, he must be bloated with a bad conscience. That must be what Casey is getting at. It takes some effort but you convince yourself that Donatello indeed misses his friendly assistant and that it’s high time you make a move. There goes your vow of distancing yourself. Goodbye, vegetative bed rotting.

Walking to the lair after so much time would be alien was the route not learned via muscle memory. There’s still an unsettling energy that becomes all the more poignant with every step you take but you’re putting that down to your nerves. You should probably text first; let him know that you’re coming but you’ve already made it to the large doors of his laboratory. As your fingers trace over the smooth metal, you think about the day that started this all - the day that would mark a start to something so unexpected that it almost doesn’t seem real. This is real. The alarming beat in your chest is all too loud for it to be a dream. It’s now or never. Taking a deep breath, you knock and pull one of the doors to the side, revealing the beaten-down turtle surrounded by unfinished projects and forgotten inventions alike.  

He slumps further and throws a hand up loosely. “I know you’re trying to help but I already said-” He stops speaking when he turns around and sees it’s you. 

You wave awkwardly with a just as clumsy smile to greet him. He springs up to his feet and bounds towards you, going in for a hug, only to stop himself just a few steps in front of you. That’s too much too soon. Your arrival is just so unexpected but by no means is it unwelcome. Many questions. There’s a lot he wants to ask and much more that he wants to say, like how much he’s missed you, how concerned he’s been, or please, never do that again. 

Instead, he says the only thing he can rationally think to, “How is the, uh, ankle doing?”

“Much better. Some positions still hurt but…” You do a little spin on the spot to demonstrate how much you’ve healed, laughing shortly. “... I can walk now at least.”

Donnie laughs as well, glad for that much. “So, no more injuries I need to worry about?” he asks playfully with raised brows. 

“Nah~” you resound melodically, winking with a waggishness. “Sorry to disappoint, Doc.”

Not a disappointment at all. Knowing you’re in good health, at least physically, is a huge relief. Between the shared chortling and the all-together prospect of dismantling the initial awkwardness, it’s great to have you back. It’s good to be back and you’re inwardly scolding yourself for depriving yourself of pleasant company. An aching heart can make you do stupid things and you’re about to realise just how stupid going quiet was. Donatello rubs the back of his head and seems to look everywhere but at you. 

“So how come you never messaged?” he asks slowly. “I got worried.”

There’s the guilt you had expected but you didn’t realise it would be so gut-wrenching. He’s trying to mitigate how hurt he was but it’s clear as day on his face. You contemplate reaching for him as extra consolation, finger flickering towards his. Instead, hold onto your forearm and tilt your head shamefully.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to worry anyone, especially not you. Just needed some time to myself, I think. You know, reflect on stuff.” Ah, he thinks to himself, Casey stuff no doubt. You blow off a cackle and shrug. “Without sounding like a complete pessimist, I think it’ll be easier to accept that no one could ever fall for me.”

You play it off as a joke - for the most part, that’s how you meant it - but he isn’t having that for a second. His hands jolt for your shoulders unexpectedly. Nothing follows and your wide eyes blink furiously with the abrupt action. 

“Donnie?”

Still, nothing. Gaze turned downwards, he just holds your shoulders, as though he’s thinking long and hard about something. He is. He’s thinking so very hard about this. Even the risk of making a fool of himself can’t scare him out of doing it now. There’s only so long he can carefully tread on this ice before it eventually breaks beneath him and swallows him whole. One might argue that’s not as bad as flat-out rejection but he doesn’t care anymore. It’s time to put those words to the test. 

He breathes deeply to collect himself, to avoid falling into a blubbering mess, and closes his eyes before getting straight to the point. “I know I could never stand any chance with you, as much as I like to pretend that I do, but I’d like it to be known at least. Even if you could never feel the same way, just know that you are loved - that you’re worth loving - and that… I’m in love with you. Don’t ever say stuff like that because it’s not true.”

All you can do is stare. Had he kept his eyes open, he would have witnessed your face shift into every conceivable expression whilst you tried to unpack what had just been said. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both could be an option were you not so stunned to the point of near incapacitation. The lack of response is jarring yet still, he can’t bring himself to look at you. 

“Oh my God,” you suddenly wheeze under a whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder, you’ll surely burst into tears. “Are you for real?” Confused, he goes to answer but you continue. “Donnie,” you breathe more weakly, “I have been hopelessly in love with you for weeks and now I’m hearing that you feel the same? In all this time where I’ve been in my own head. I just thought that- with April-” You cut yourself off and step back, jerking your shoulders away from his clutch. “No. There’s no way. This isn’t funny, Donnie. Just stop.”

There’s a brief period of chronostasis - a beautiful phenomenon in which time stills and he has the space to reflect on what has just sputtered from your mouth. He almost can’t believe it and, it seems, you can’t believe his own words either. He wants to jump with joy, spring with glee, and throw it in his brothers’ faces for ever doubting such circumstances. The overconfidence can wait. At this moment, it’s just the two of you with this air of reconciliation, though dampened by doubt. Your doubt. 

He holds a hand out to you only for it to clasp into a soft fist. It would be easy to act on the defensive but that wouldn’t amount to anything. If it’s evidence you seek, so he shall provide. He walks over to his desk and retrieves a small box - the same box that you had snooped on the other week, the one containing the quaint, little bracelet that is surely meant for April. That’s what you assumed, which is why your heart clenches tightly. He carefully takes it out of its packaging and fawns over it in a moment of vulnerability. You’re awaiting words of inclination towards the redhead but he remains silent. A green thumb skips over the turtle charm and Donatello outstretches his other hand to you. Wearily, you oblige and bestow yours to him. He cups the back of your hand and turns it over so that he may place the delicate-looking jewellery in your palm, making sure the charm is turned up on its backside. You frown at his peculiar behaviour, only to realise that something is inscribed on the turtle’s underbelly: your initials. 

When it all comes to light, your head turns up to meet him again. He’s glanced away shyly but there’s an awkward smile on his lips. One would think that this shared admittance is something to be celebrated with a fantastical display but it feels much too surreal. You have this horrible vision of waking up in your room, finding this to be another one of your crazed dreams. When he finally meets your stare, those fears vanish. Wild imagination or not, you could never replicate that warm glow of those maroon eyes. Even thoughts of being embarrassed about the tears in your own couldn’t ruin this moment. You fawn over the little bracelet again and shimmy it onto your wrist. The exchange is silent but there’s an ambient comfort: an unfamiliar familiarness that paves way between the two of you and closes the gap you’ve both been aching to be rid of. Neither of you is well-equipped with your words, so this alteration best suits the moment. Everything that has come to be may have been born from unrequited feelings for your friends but the birth place doesn’t matter. Value is held in each other’s happiness and simply loving one another unconditionally.

You lean up, lifting yourself on your good foot mostly, and kiss him on the cheek. His inelegant grin drops and you’re sure the tassels of his mask would have flickered up if they obtained sentient life. A primrose hue blossoms his face - one that you become well-acquainted with when he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to your forehead. With you both soaring ever higher, he pulls you into a long-awaited embrace, holding you close as your bodies transcend orbit and go off into the stars. 

Man, he sure does love being a turtle.

[moonyswifee]

Nemesis and Tutors

Remus Lupin x fem!reader [part 3]

summary: enemies to lovers, full moon week. remus is pretty exhausted, snape and avery being jerks like always.

warnings: violence, swearing, fluff, banter, she/her pronouns used for reader, mentions of blood and injuries, use of wizard blood slurs.

word count: 1.5k words

a/n: hi lovelies, i knoww this part is late, so sorry to all the people who wanted a part 3, but here it is! sorry i couldn't write it sooner, i have been so busy lol. i have had such a bad writer's block, i could not come up with good ideas for the plot at all. i had this idea, and i think its pretty good, but hope you all like it!!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

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You return back to your dorm, your mind still reeling. What the hell was that? You did not know why you were suddenly feeling this way, and more than that, you definitely did not know why you were feeling this towards your sworn nemesis, Remus freaking Lupin.

Those were just feelings…of annoyance. That’s it. Nothing, nothing more than that. You sigh heavily and dump your bag on your bed.

Lily looks up from her bed as you enter. “Hey, how was tutoring? By the way, I got us those ginger cookies that were out of stock”

You shrug absentmindedly. “Eh.”

Lily chuckles softly and shakes her head, the response valid from you. She leans back on her bed, flipping through her book. “Was Remus terrible, then?” She asks teasingly.

You blink and look away, your heart skipping a beat at the name. “What? Why would I care what Remus was like? I mean-" You scoff a small nervous laugh. “Remus can just like, go missing, for all I care. Like, I just hate him, you know, I hate his guts. That man is intolerable. Completely and utterly infuriating. Did I mention I hate him?” You blabber defensively, almost like you were trying to convince yourself that you hated him.

Lily blinks and furrows her eyebrows in confusion and surprise. “Oookay? Are you okay?” She asks in concern.

You nod with a wide grin. “Me? I’m fine- I am. I am just…amazing. Why, how are you?” You say with a nervous laugh.

Lily narrow her eyes, and looks at you with a tilted head. “Why did you get so…defensive when I mentioned Remus?” She asks in amusement.

You huff. “Because…I hate him. Yep. I. Hate. Him.”

Lily nods slowly, with a slight smirk and goes back to reading. You’re relieved Lily seems to have dropped the subject. You walk inside the shared bathroom, sighing.

Lily calls out from the bed, still looking down at her book. “Do you like him?” She asks with a knowing smirk.

The bathroom door opens so fast it might have broken. “WHAT?”

You look at her with a horrid expression. “Why would you say that? I hate Remus, I don’t like him, Jesus.”

Lily smirks up at you triumphantly. “I never said anything about Remus.”

You groan and face palm yourself. How did you fall for that one? Lily, unbeknownst to your agony, sits up in bed and looks at you with the most excited grin. “Oh my god! Do you have feelings for Remus?”

You huff and narrow your eyes, pointing a threatening finger at her. “I don’t have feelings for Remus.” You grimace. “The only feelings I have for Remus are hatred. Pure hatred. And anger. And frustration. And infuriation. Is that a word? Is infuriation a word?” You ask, threatening finger still pointed.

“Yes, it’s a word.”

“Great! That is exactly what I feel for him, then.”

Lily puts her hands up in defense, smiling. “Okay. You hate him. I got it.”

You huff. “Good. Now where are those cookies?"

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The next time you saw Remus, he looked as pale as a ghost. There were deep bags under his eyes and he looked like he could pass out any moment.

You knew why it was. It was the week of the full moon, and those days had to be hard. You would know, you had read all about lycanthropy the day you found out about Remus. Out of pure curiosity and thirst for knowledge, of course. You found yourself almost concerned for him, in a sense. You weren’t one to empathize with Remus, but you weren’t made of cold stone, either.

You sit down, late as always, on the desk next to him. Remus sits up, wincing slightly, and opens his books. “Where did we leave off last time?”

You open your books and show him the last topic. You look at his tired expression. “You’re not going to lecture me this time? Scold me for being late?”

Remus sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again, looking at his book. His head was bursting. “Not really. Sorry to deprive you of the pleasure.”

You narrow your eyes at him and start working. You look at Remus as he explains the topic to you, and you almost feel bad, listening to him drawl on about the effects of Veritaserum.

His eyes are tired and his face is pale. The brightness in his expression is gone. You find yourself thinking how unfair it is, for someone innocent to be affected so much by something that wasn’t even their fault. You almost feel yourself pitying him, stuck in this library and teaching you Potions. But you know Remus would never want pity. He’s just not like that. It’s the one thing you can bring yourself to admire about him.

As you study, you try to keep to yourself as much, to not bother him. Not because you care, but because you don’t want to get into an argument.

After a while, you hear hushed (or not so hushed) voices from the other side of bookshelf. The voices snicker quietly. “I would be embarrassed if I was him.”

You distinctly recognize the voices as Snape and Avery’s. The library is quiet, and you and Remus can hear every word they are saying.

“Yeah, always hanging out with those two arrogant pricks like their lapdog. I can bet they only keep him around because they feel bad for him.”

“And have you seen his face? It’s all scratched up, like some scary monster. He’s such a freak.” They snicker.

Remus feels his entire face heat up, and looks down at his book. Normally, he would say something, stand up for himself. But, he was too exhausted to even stand up right now. You notice Remus’ embarrassed gaze on his book, and your hands clench subconsciously. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Avery snickers, “Must run in his blood. I mean, what would you expect after his father married that filthy muggle?”

Snape continues, “No wonder he doesn’t hang out with many people. I don’t know why Lily goes near him, anyways. Hanging out with Half-bloods like that Lupin. Serves her right for being a mudblood, I guess.”

That was the last straw. With a loud scrape of chairs, Remus and you both got up. Before Remus could make his way to them, however, you had already beat him to that. You stood with your hands clenched into tight fists and a death glare fixed on the two slytherin boys.

“What did you say?” You ask dangerously, your jaw tightened.

Avery and Snape faltered beneath your stare but retorted back, “You heard what we said. He’s a lousy, fucking filthy Half-blood who can’t keep his mouth sh-"

A sickening crack was heard as Snape was cut off with the courtesy of your fist to his crooked nose. He groaned in pain, clutching his nose. Remus stood with his eyes widened, his gaze fixed on you. Was this a dream? Had you really defended Remus? Had you just punched someone for him? He almost felt surprised at the little flutter his heart did.

You lean down, your glaring eyes level with Snape, who was still holding his bleeding nose. “No one gets to talk about him like that except for me.” You say, in a threatening dangerous voice. Remus would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little intimidated by you himself, as he watched with his mouth gaping.

You stand back up, and Snape and Avery scuttle out of their seats, running away from there as fast as they can. As they leave, you shake your hand slightly, wincing as you look down at your now injured knuckles.

Remus stands there speechless for a moment before he finds his voice again. “I didn’t know you could throw a punch like that.”

You grimace at you hand and look at him. “Well, there’s plenty you don’t know about me, Lupin.” You say, but there’s no real hindrance in your voice, only a weird gentleness and concern in your expression.

You both stand in silence for a while. “Thank you.” Remus says sincerely. “For…doing that.” He’s touched albeit a little awkward. Who knew Remus Lupin would be thanking you one day?

You didn’t, that’s for sure. You blink at him, caught slightly off guard by his gratefulness. You look away, flexing your hand. “ Yeah, well…He was saying stuff about Lily, too.” You say attempting to be as nonchalant as you can with your knuckles bleeding from punching a guy in defense of Remus.

Remus nods, looking at your hand. “You should, um…You should probably get that cleaned up.”

You huff slightly with a slight smile. “By Pomfrey? No way. She’s scolded me far too much for scraped knuckles and bleeding noses. I would never hear the end of it.”

Remus finds himself chuckling slightly at your statement. “I could help.” Remus offers casually.

You look at him, surprised by his offer. “What?”

He blinks. “Oh, I mean…I um, I have some experience with…this stuff.” He says, gesturing vaguely to your scraped fingers. “I just…I could clean that up. I mean, I kind of owe you now.” He shrugs.

You nod slowly, looking thoughtful on the outside. “You do owe me. Okay, fine. How do I know you’re not just taking me to your dorm to murder me in cold blood?”

Remus rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ha-ha. Very funny. I still hate you. Come on, smart-ass.”

You smirk slightly as you both pick up your bags and make your way out of the library. “Yeah, I know. I hate you, too.” Your heart felt otherwise. You sigh quietly.

This was going to be one long night.

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thank you so much for reading!! ♡ let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

taglist:

@boromoony @blueikky @daydreamandforget @lupinzlover @cinnamongirlmmaya

[sillygoosealert]

I was so hurt after (https://www.tumblr.com/sillygoosealert/757389587337412608/stuipid-fucking-slut-i-hate-you) 🥹🥹, can you do a part two where reader goes missing after he left her but found unconscious/dead because of a reason (you could come up with one! :D)

AND ALSO, UR WRITING IS SOO GOOD, +1 FOLLOWER >.<

-🍞 anon (I will try giving you good requests >:)

I promise I won't kill myself, death is not my last resort

haiiii :3 so I'm making this part two but honestly, I might end up deleting both of the stories because I was in a bad place when I wrote that 😓 also..besides the other anon's rotting in my inbox until I respond..ur my first anon !! yippy !!

Implied Rape. You die, talks of being unsafe and how it feels to be assaulted

Love is a gentle thing, as is the innocence you once had.

It wasn't a gradual fruition to see that being a woman would change the reality of everything for you. They warned you to steer clear of dark spots and secluded areas and always be aware. The things events that were organized and reenacted are nothing short of gender-based violence.

You understood why you and many others were constantly warned, but experiencing it was so different and vile, something you should never have gone through.

Today almost didn't end with you dead, but you didn't listen to the one thing that was looking out for you- you. That day, your gut instinct felt something was awry.

The morning was fine. You got a quick kiss on Sukuna's cheek before running off to your garden work.

The garden is split into sections. Working in them isn't an issue- except the one furthest from the estate. It's where you are most likely to get harassed by other servants as it is where most people turn a blind eye to.

Your body physically would not go near it today, you just couldn't.

Maybe it's the black crow you saw out of the corner of your eye or the sinking feeling you got whenever you looked over in its direction, but you couldn't shake the uncanny feeling it was giving you.

But as a mouse gets caught in a mouse trap, you are lured into the back part of the garden when something that resembles a doe is staring right at you. Not wanting to pass up the chance to see something so pure so up close, you walk to it.

But as you walk towards the feeble deer, and it walks further and further into the now forest, you question if you really saw anything at all.

When the doe is no longer in sight, you think about how you got here. Is it too late to turn back? I don't want this anymore.

You don't get the chance to turn back, as a pair of hands are roughly groping you from behind.

What happened in the woods wasn't your fault. You were lured to the spot in the first place. Then, when you wanted out, the exit was no longer there.

It wasn't your fault.

When you don't show up to clean the garden, that one thing.

But your body was found before dinner, where the forest meets the garden, disrespected in horrendous ways.

When you mentioned the concern that you were being targeted by other peers, he recognized the validity of your perspective.

He knew you were being harassed, but to accept it was something he couldn't do.

It would mean several things to take action - the most significant being that you had a major influence on how he chose to address the situation.

The other is over half of the people working for him would be slaughtered if he honestly wanted you safe. That type of fear egged him on usually, with him being your savior at the end of the day.

Knowing the nature of these situations, something would have to be addressed sooner or later.

He was scared indigo at the thought of making that type of commitment to someone, but he wanted to for you.

The thought of death didn't scare him. He would tell death himself he wasn't afraid to die. However, the idea of you being beaten nearly to death, only to bleed out and perish, shook him to his core. This was something no amount of strength or intimidation could undo.

He doesn't find out about...your passing until he requests to see you after dinner.

The feeling that washes over him is indifferent, he doesn't know what he wants anymore, but he knows that he wants you back.

He will never know how the world could keep spinning after you were ripped away from his grasp, it should have been the end of the world.

You didn't want to die, you shouldn't have died.

That shouldn't have happened to you, you didn't deserve it.

Death is a pathic escape, I will not kill myself- not for my loved ones, but for me.

Songs referenced: Velvet Ring, The End of The World, N64, My Body's Made of Crushed Little Stars, Crack Baby, Anything.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

As a Art History and Heritage researcher, I have to say “Nosferatu” (2024) geniality cannot be underestimated. This is an absolute historic triumph. Robert Eggers recreated the early 19th century setting, way of thinking and behaving, so masterfully, he actually convinced the general audience into believing the Victorian characters are the “good guys” here, and the Eastern European Pagan shaman-priest is the villain of the story, and that his protagonist Ellen is a passive victim at his hands. And now many are starting to realize that’s not the case and are throwing a fit or making weird mental gymnastics to validate their incorrect interpretations.

This isn’t surprising because this tale has years on the making, and it’s an entirely new story under a familiar make-up. Academics and researchers helped shape this story (History and Romanian folklore; Eggers is an occult scholar himself but he only talked about it publicly once); Academic thesis were used to create the script and the world building (“Dracula” literacy analysis; Şolomonari connection to Zalmoxis worship); a dead language was reconstructed for this (fictional but very well-researched alongside linguistics specialized on Balkan extinct languages); two different types of English are spoken (late 16th century and 19th century). The historical accuracy of everything is on point: Romanian Folklore, Victorian sexuality views, Victorian medicine, demonization of Pagan beliefs by Christianity, 19th century racist theories; the threat of female sexuality as a contagious disease (Ellen), etc. If this wasn’t horror I would even recommend this film as a study tool to understand the early 19th century.

The comprehension of these references and themes are way out of your league. Many of these are academic-level knowledge; others should be general knowledge (Victorian era as sexually repressed) but apparently aren’t(?) Either way, the entire “discourse” around this film comes from the general audience lack of historical knowledge and ignorance about these themes and references. I’m an academic myself, and I had to breakdown the entire story to see what this is actually about. Some of you watched this film once and already think you know? When you can’t even interpret one scene from this film correctly, and think Orlok appeared to Ellen when she was a little kid or that Ellen’s father abused her?? The prologue and her scene with Von Franz contradicts both these “interpretations”. Most of you don’t even realize it was Ellen who cursed Orlok to be a strigoi, to begin with (or probably don’t know what a “strigoi” is).

The cast and crew already explained what this film is about in interviews, but there appears to be a weird rejection of everything the creators of this story have to say. But Robert Eggers probably isn’t concerned because he didn’t make this film for you. The way modern audiences digest Art is extremely bizarre to me. This is not how interpretation of Art works, and I tell you this as someone who interprets Art in its historical context for a living. This is my job. And this is a director obsessed with historical accuracy and with a strict artistic view. There are no “multiple opposite interpretations” here. Because he’s using specific academic thesis to create his story. On a personal level you can see whatever you want to see, but if your intention is to understand this story know you are incorrect. And the majority of the “breakdowns” and “interpretations” out there are incorrect and the only world I can use to describe them is “bullshit”. Because these content creators and influencers have no idea of what they are talking about. But the Internet gave them the illusion they do, and they are very proud in displaying their ignorance to the world. Or those who are going around making jokes about “wanting to bounce on Orlok crazy style”. Your anti-intellectualism gives me second-hand embarrassment. This is the peak definition of functional illiteracy, and what’s worse is that the folks who want to know will come across this content and think “yeah, that’s what’s this film is about”.

This entire story a huge middle finger to Christian Victorian society. This a celebration and vengeance of Paganism on Christian civilization, embodied in both Orlok and Ellen characters. Robert Eggers called Ellen the only heroic character of his story; and Ellen and Orlok share the same spirit, the same nature (one Ellen rejects until she embraces it, at the end). They are the true heroes here. The Pagan priestess and the Pagan priest-shaman bringing death and plague upon the Christian civilization that demonized them using their Sex Magick, and end it with Sex Magick too, to give birth to the New Age of Aquarius (which was already the occult meaning of the 1922 “Nosferatu” ending, Eggers included the divine feminine instead of the “virgin sacrifice”). That’s why Eggers describes his ending as a “sacred marriage” between Ellen and Orlok: their sexual encounters are ritualistic, and always have been, and it’s Ellen sexual energy that conjures Orlok, every time: she’s the one who calls out to him, always. She has full agency over their connection (and Herr Knock ritual scene should tell you this; Ellen ending their connection when she met Thomas, and sending the maiden token to reconnect).

Everything that happens in this story is according to Ellen’s will. She has Orlok where she wants him to be; and, yes, she plays both Thomas and Orlok, and weaponizes them against each other (“Wuthering Heights” inspiration, hello?). Because she’s a dark character (like every Gothic horror protagonist), and her innocence and naivety are a front she puts on for Victorian society, her true self is only shown in some occasions because this story gives you several POVs. And that’s why Lily-Rose Depp tells us Ellen is “not a victim at all” because “she’s the one calling the shots the entire time”. She’s like Catherine; she wants to fuck around with Heathcliff/Orlok, while being married to the respectable Edgar/Thomas. But here it’s Orlok that’s not having any of it. I would even say the only victimized character here is Thomas himself, who gets caught up in the middle of something he doesn’t know nor understands and gets his entire life wrecked as a result (like Edgar Linton).

This whole story is about Ellen liberating herself from Victorian society, taking ownership of her own sexuality (one that according to Victorian era belongs to her husband) and embracing her nature, as she fully accepts Orlok at the end. She’s as evil and as good as he is. It’s not that hard to understand.

[sirenium]

"I support trans people!" quick, are you normal about the concept of transandrophobia? Do you think it's just 'white men trying to be oppressed'? Do you brush it off as merely misdirected transmisogyny? Do you scoff at the struggles of trans men and go 'but trans women have it worse! talk to a trans woman and see how bad THEY have it!'?

Do you use a trans man's chest size as an excuse for constant misgendering? Do you hold transmasculine people to a standard of needing to be feminine so to not scare the women, but proceed to not take their gender seriously if they do perform femininity? Do you use your horribly veiled misandry as an excuse to make trans men feel unsafe in queer spaces?

Are you normal about AFAB transfems and AMAB transmascs? Intersex trans people? GNC trans people? Trans people who use xenogenders? Trans people who use it/its or other neopronouns? She/her transmascs and he/him transfems? Can you acknowledge that, sometimes, people are simultaneously transmasc and transfem? Do you accept transmasc women, transfem men, etc?

Do you invalidate the identities of trans women who have beards, or present 'masculinely'? Do you see them as predatory posers? Do you go out of your way to misgender trans women who happen to actually be predators, because 'clearly they were just men'? Do you shame trans women for exploring their sexuality?

Are autistic trans people not able to make decisions on their own transition, as far as you're concerned? Are our ways of expressing and seeing gender 'stupid' to you? Is the concept of autigender too 'insane' to you? Do you see our gender identities as simply jokes?

Can you survive being around a trans man lesbian or a veldian (link) trans woman? Can you support a multigender person who is both gay AND lesbian? Can you include transmasculine nonbinary people in your 'support' of nonbinary lesbians?

I've used the term 'conditional support' a few times, but it is very much conditional support if you explode over one trans person's identity, and then turn around and act all supportive of another's. If all it takes for you not to support a trans person is how they label their gender or sexuality, how they present, what their body looks like, etc, you are not supportive of trans people! Your 'support' is very limited and strict. You have one rigid idea of what trans people are 'supposed' to be, and anyone who deviates isn't valid or worthy, and that is NOT the kind of behavior an ally should exhibit. It is not the way you treat other trans people, and it is far from supportive.

[nariyahcore]

Sonic and Nine make a toxic duo/“sibling” relationship

And why Silver could easily fit into that dynamic instead

I have mentioned this before not too long ago, but never got the chance to elaborate on why I personally do not like Sonic and Nine as “brothers”. So!!! I’ll take advantage and explain why Silver and Nine are a much better duo :]]

BUT FIRST!!! I want to credit my pookie @abs9lution who came up with this duo in the first place! i have their thread that elaborates further on silver and nine’s dynamic at the end of this post if you’d like to check it out! it also includes a thread on what’ll happen to silver and blaze’s dynamic, and why Blaze’s character was downgraded throughout the years

the end of this post also includes a tldr for those who don’t have the patience to read all this yapping (it’s okay me too 😭)

Table of Contents:

i. sonic and nine’s toxic relationship

ii. explaining how silver’s addition would’ve mattered in sonic prime

iii. why silver and nine would make a better duo as brothers

I. Sonic and Nine, and why their dynamic does not work out.

I feel like I could go on for AGES as to why i genuinely dislike Sonic and Nine as a duo, because there’s just so many things wrong with these two 😭

If you’ve watched Sonic Prime then you’d know Sonic’s goal was to simply bring back Green Hills, with the help of the friends he made along the way.

This also includes Nine (momentarily) before his (EXTREMELY VALID AND JUSTIFIED) villain arc.

Throughout the show it is extremely obvious Sonic only saw Nine as Tails “but angsty”. He didn’t take time to realize that Nine was NOT Tails and never will be. Whilst his main concern was to bring back his friends, I feel like no one talks about how demeaning this was 😭

The poor kid has absolutely no idea what a friendship is like, so having Sonic rely on him for even a little bit was bound to become a heavily over attached and almost obsessive-one sided dynamic.

So no, it’s not meant to be “toxic brothers!!!” core, it is sooo downgrading to not only Nine’s trauma imho, but also the whole plot of S3 in Sonic Prime. They CANNOT be brothers 😭

This is often dismissed just for the fact of “lol sonic and tails brother ship in all universes”

Do not get my wrong, I adore the Unbreakable Bond stuff, I think they’re the brothers ever!! HOWEVER, this should not apply with Sonic and Nine for obvious reasons.

I can yap more about this but the main purpose of this post is about Silver and Nine, so I’ll keep this section short!!

II. Silver should’ve been in Sonic Prime and I will die on this hill 

LIKE??? ITS LITERALLY ABOUT THE MULTIVERSE WHY WOULDN’T HE (and Blaze) BE IN THIS SHOW???

Silver in general needs to be in more official media but that’s a rant for another post 😭

His addition to this show would’ve been sooo important, it actually would’ve changed a lot of the plot and even the ending of S3 (which was absolute shit imo 😭)

I don’t have a lot to say about this part of the post, apart from the fact his inclusion would have made the show more interesting, and his background is very similar to Nine!! (Which I’ll explain in the next section)

III. Why Silver and Nine would make a better bond than with Sonic.

they have similar backgrounds and interests! both come from a dystopian city with the want for change; one wants to leave and make a new world, while the other wants to help fix his.

They both balance each other nicely! And YES I KNOW THE SAME IS FOR SONIC. THE DIFFERENCE IS THAT THERES NO TRAUMA INVOLVED BETWEEN THE TWO 😭 and it’s not a complete copy of sonic and tails but with an angsty version of the fox

silver wouldn’t see nine as “tails but angsty” or just another version of tails, I think he’d see nine as his own person!! they could keep each other company and be the sillies ever

Something I like about this is the fact it’s not EXACTLY like sonic and tails, and they can still have that brother bond!! They have tons of potential, which is why I ignore canon and follow my delusions in fanon 😁

TLDR: sonic and nine booooo silver and nine yippee!!! /hj

okay in a serious note, sonic and nine just wouldn’t have a healthy friendship that wouldn’t have one-sided obsession and lots of toxicity, while silver, a character that albeit random, still has enough similarities to fit into that role!!

Please read the thread behind the mastermind of this headcanon!! They explain the details I’ve put in this post, but I’d like for you guys to read it too. It includes a separate thread by another person based on Blaze and Silver’s odd dynamic and why it’s often brushed off!!

sorry for any spelling errors I did NOT proofread this

art by BREADBURNE86414 on twt!!

[gallowdancingmuck]

Analyzing W(e)yler Part Four:

(I was going to talk about Tyler’s arc but got super excited about this analysis and found it’s best to explain this in detail to make Tyler’s analysis more concise.)

Y'all its time to talk about the significance of Frankenstein. As soon as Laurel presented the book to Wednesday I knew she was behind it all. What I didn’t realize was how this whole show is an ode to Frankenstein, or I dare even say the creators own fix it fic?

Tyler:

The most obvious correlation is Tyler as Frankenstein’s Monster. The monster is “assembled from old body parts and strange chemicals, animated by a mysterious spark” (Sparknotes) much like Tyler’s hyde is genetic, activated by Laurel’s plant derivatives, and animated by his spark with Wednesday. I am giving credit to Wednesday for animation because I speculate the hyde did not develop his snarkiness and personality with Laurel (she would not nurture him to have any sense of self) but rather developed it after spending time with Wednesday and her quirks. The monster displays humanity and gentility, but due to his appearance, is shown disdain from his creator and is isolated from society. Tyler is a kind boy who displays compassion and friendliness, but due to his mother’s death, father’s neglect, and master’s abuse, he is faced with estrangement from every parental figure in his life. Add to this the knowledge of the hydes stigmatized nature even within the outcast community and he is predisposed to becoming monstrous. While I can’t say for sure, I think next season we will hear more about Tyler’s guilt and anger over what he is and what he has done which is exactly the way the Monster feels throughout the novel, regretful over his own monstrosity.

Wednesday:

Wednesday I believe is an amalgamation of Victor, Walton, and the Monster’s companion. I combine all three because I think in an effort to mend the original storyline, the creators need to “fix” these characters' fatal flaws. While Laurel is the obvious equivalent to Victor, Wednesday shares a lot of Victor’s characteristics (ambitious, obsessive, reckless) and is meant to resolve Victor’s flaws. Victor is so concerned with being successful and assuaging his curiosity he often fails to see the impact he has on other people. Wednesday struggles with this as well because she often equates her life to being all about her (“every day is about me”) that she neglects the fact her life is interconnected with her loved ones. Victor begins the story ignoring his family in pursuit of his goals much like Wednesday is disconnected from her family due to her actions, and continues to miscalculate the repercussions her actions have on her friends (Eugene going to the cave alone, Enid and Tyler getting hurt at the mansion, Thing being stabbed). Like Victor, Wednesday currently has no active empathy towards Tyler’s experience (She makes a few offhand comments but she is not acting with empathy yet) and makes judgements based on only her perspective.

The divergence of Victor and Wednesday comes when Wednesday begins to take accountability for her the risk she puts her loved ones in. Unlike Victor who continually blames the monster and never admits his part in the chaos, Wednesday takes the blame (sometimes too much) and begins to make compromises to protect her loved ones. These compromises come in the form of forming partnerships with Tyler, Enid, Weems etc. Another difference is that while Victor hates and fears the Monster, Wednesday is not horrified or disgusted by Tyler, merely disappointed. A contributing factor to why I think Wednesday is able to do all of this is she has courage and a sense of justice that Victor does not. Victor, despite all his grandiose beliefs still seeks societal validation (this is the main reason he does not tell the Judge about Justine’s innocence), and places himself over any morality.

Wednesday acts as Walton because this story is told through her narration. Walton also is meant to be a more grounded Victor, evidenced by his decision to turn back when his voyage became too dangerous. Theoretically, if Wednesday is only one character she is Walton, because Walton does exemplify Victor, but it is harder to parallel specific events since Frankenstein explores Walton’s perceptions more than actions and because Walton does not have the same personal connection to the Monster as Wednesday has to Tyler.

I say Wednesday is also the monster’s companion because once we remove the emotional conflict between her and Tyler concerning his betrayal, Wednesday and Tyler are the same (refer to part one of my analysis series). While Shelley never had the Companion come to fruition, the Companion was meant to act as a source of comfort and relatability for the Monster, and Wednesday is that for Tyler. She is all the things Tyler is afraid to accept about himself, and she does it in a way that is encouraging to Tyler. The Companion could have calmed the Monster's loneliness and remedied the narrative if she came to life and accepted him, and since the creators are using the show as a conduit to fix this narrative, I firmly believe Wednesday will come to accept Tyler.

Based on Frankenstein and what snippets we've seen of season 2 (I’m geeking over the teaser), this is what I expect moving forward.

If it is not a circumstance that requires Tyler’s help, Wednesday is going to go see him out of revenge (you know she will taunt Tyler). Much like Victor meeting the Monster in the mountains, Wednesday will meet Tyler at Willow Hill. In this meeting I think Tyler will blame the loneliness and manipulation and probably be just as abrasive as Wednesday is towards him. At some point however he will express remorse and even ask Wednesday to not help him escape but perhaps to kill him. Tyler is going to be in such a bad state he will fluctuate between rage and depression. When Laurel is brought up he will lament her the same way the Monster lamented Victor’s death, with relief but loss at a solid connection. Wednesday will strike a deal with Tyler. What this deal is I don’t know, but it will act as Victor’s deal of making a Companion for the Monster. The deal between Wednesday and Tyler will be a more concrete, logical deal, but in working together to make it happen she will become his companion (source of understanding, support) and their relationship will reconcile. This will diverge from Victor turning away from the Monster and rescinding the deal. While this already steers us in the direction of resolution it won’t be that simple.

At the end of the season, after Wednesday has fully forgiven Tyler and their relationship has grown attached again, something will happen that causes Tyler to leave or distance himself from Wednesday. It will either be in a soul searching pursuit or Tyler thinking he is better off alone. Either way it sets up for next season to focus on their reunion, Tyler’s self actualization, and hopefully Tyler’s admission to Nevermore.

A few other parallels I want to include but don’t have the energy to integrate eloquently:

Enid as Henry Clerval

Enid represents Henry Clerval, Victor’s best friend who dies at the hand of the monster. Clerval is the more socially acceptable version of Victor, they share ambition but Clerval is able to express himself in a more socially digestible way. Victor sees Clerval as his equal and closest friend. As we see the show progress we see Wednesday begin to connect with Enid and see her as an equal. Both relationships are meant to show the importance of companionship and allow Wednesday and Victor to find comfort and connection.

Enid did not (and will not) be killed by Tyler, but she did suffer an attack from him. Frankestein used Clerval’s death to traumatize Victor and cement his hatred for the Monster, so I think the fight with Enid will serve as a reason for Wednesday to prolong the bad blood between her and Tyler.

Xavier

Xavier doesn’t represent a specific character but more so his relationship with Wednesday seems reminiscent of Victor and Elizabeth’s. I personally don’t hate Xavier but I do not like his relationship with Wednesday. He seems to project an idea of her rather than seeing her, and when Wednesday fails to match this image, he blows up. It correlates because Victor does not truly see Elizabeth and only relegates her to his possession ( “I[…]looked upon Elizabeth as mine.”). If Xavier’s character remained in the show, I think it would only amount to him blaming the state of his and Wednesday’s relationship on Tyler, just as Victor blamed Elizabeth’s death on the Monster, when in reality it stemmed from his own neglect and lack of consideration.

Eugene as William Frankenstein

Since Puglsey was not at Nevermore, Wednesday adopted Eugene as a surrogate brother, and much like William, Eugene has a cheerful and childlike presence that acts to represent innocence. In the book William is the first victim of the Monster, and is what is symbolic of Victor’s loss of innocence, naivety, and control. Eugene being attacked was the event that turned the mystery of the hyde into a serious and personal pursuit, and just like Willaims death, Eugene’s attack is what “sealed fate” and made it so our protagonist would not stop until the monster was confronted.

Gomez & Morticia as Alphonse Frankenstein

Alphonse is Victor’s loving father, who acts as a contrast between Victor’s fragmented relationship with the Monster. Morticia and Gomez are extremely devoted and affectionate but despite this Wednesday has trouble in her personal relationships. In terms of her and Tyler, it shows how despite having a healthy relationship modeled, Wednesday and Tyler’s relationship will remain complicated until the two reconcile their family dynamics.

Francoise Galpin as Caroline Frankenstein

Caroline and Franocise are two characters that haunt the narrative of the story. Caroline’s death affected Victor and could be cited as the root of his obsession with death and the creation of life (mommy issues). He even so much has calls his mother’s death an “omen” of his “future misery”. Francoise’s mistreatment and death is what triggered the events of Tyler’s unlocking, if she had been accepted and lived, Laurel would not have been able to manipulate Tyler’s love for his mother and Tyler would probably be more empowered instead of confused and isolated. Caroline is also reduced to a maternal figure who died so her child could live (she dies from taking care of her sick child) and I think Francoise will be revealed to have admitted herself to Willowhill and died there or to have killed herself to protect Donovan and Tyler.

Why Fix Frankenstien?

I personally think that Tim Burton is rooting for Frankenstein (and implicitly Wyler) because he is a horror lover! I love consuming media that analyzes horror and interviews the people that make it happen and I’ve noticed that a lot of the people who make horror don’t blame the monster and actually wish for its happy ending. After all, the monster in movies is typically only meant to act as a focal point for the true monsters, people, society, etc. to act against. If we look at Tim Burton’s work, he tends to empathize with the monster (Corpse Bride, Frankenweenie, Beetlejuice). As for other horror moguls, you can look up interviews by Guillermo del Toro and Stephen King where they reference the Creature from the Black Lagoon and talk about how they wanted the monster to get the girl. This is what inspired the Shape of Water. A quote that I think exemplifies this mindset is “the creature only gets deadly when threatened by man, and is desperately in need of companionship” (David Konow, author of Reel Horror). Horror is a genre that focuses on the underdog overcoming terrifying circumstances. What could be scarier for an outcast than being taken advantage of and thrown away? What could be more vindicating than defeating the naysayers and winning the companionship of a pretty girl? I just feel like Wyler makes the most logical sense for the genre and would be a lot more satisfying because Frankenstein is universally seen as such a tragedy and the genre is all about glory and gore and love and horror and Wyler really exemplifies all of these qualities!

[psuedosugu]

You know something I've noticed? Yeah, Nifty is your typical yandere but can we talk about Vox? You technically don't even have to request him as a yandere unless you want it to be romanticized toward you and/or further explored because according to ALL of the recent regular Vox x readers (and the show itself), he clearly has many traits of one especially toward Alastor. He acts like a toxic, jealous ex 😂 He cyberstalks people for one, he's manipulative, insecure (this is where possessiveness and jealousy tends to stem from), doesn't take rejection well as we heard from Al, is capable of being obsessed with someone, and an overall control freak. He wants to keep the Vees' image and everything looking perfect. Imagine this guy being attached to you. An absolute nightmare. Never any privacy, eyes and ears everywhere, can teleport with or without a screen, blackmail is 100% on the table as well as other tactics, and constant validation for him whether your relationship is forced or not. What sucks about the last part is that it's a double-edged sword. If you fuel his ego, he's enabled but if you don't give him enough attention, he'll try harder and tighten his hold on you. So while Val absolutely horrible, it's like you can never win with Vox. Not when you don't have equal power and he's stated to be very strong. Especially these days, tech is an absolute must since even jobs heavily rely on it. Life and the afterlife here is much harder without a smartphone. He's literally a TV. He wants to be watched and noticed.

So he'll get it.

exactly brooo

cw: themes of manipulation, blackmail, and toxic, controlling relationships.

gender neutral

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

ੈ✧̣̇ || honestly atp he’s practically a canon yandere.

ੈ✧̣̇ || i kinda talked about this before but i feel like he would manipulate reader into thinking that they need him when its the other way around

ੈ✧̣̇ || as u said, he’s insecure as hell and he needs someone to boost his ego and make him look superior

ੈ✧̣̇ || he also needs some source of stability in his (after) life which is where you come in.

ੈ✧̣̇ || hed also never let things go or get over you.

ੈ✧̣̇ || he started beef with a dude that he hadn’t seen in 7 whole years, for gods sake 😭

ੈ✧̣̇ || bro will start fights over things that happened months ago and are over now done with

ੈ✧̣̇ || he also craves control, not only will he spy on you through your electronics but he’ll also try and control other things that he has no business controlling like what you wear, who you talk to, ect.

ੈ✧̣̇ || if you mention your concerns about it he’ll try and back off, but hes just so paranoid that something will happen to you even though he knows you’re capable of taking care of yourself.

ੈ✧̣̇ || he needs to feel like he’s needed.

ੈ✧̣̇ || he also exerts his control by threatening you with blackmail, wether it be secrets that you told him or pictures.

ੈ✧̣̇ || not like you don’t have a fair amount of dirt on him too, though.

ੈ✧̣̇ || he’d definitely fight a bitch for you, if you’re getting threatened, stalked, and/or harassed by someone (that isnt him ofc) said person better prepare for his wrath.

ੈ✧̣̇ || hes a whiny ass bitch which is either annoying or hot depending on who you ask and what the context is.

ੈ✧̣̇ || its also kind of confusing how he acts, he’ll be practically ignoring you one second and begging for your attention the next.

ੈ✧̣̇ || another reason why he’s so scared of you leaving is because of how vulnerable he’s been to you.

ੈ✧̣̇ || he’s told you things that he’s never told anyone, shown parts of him that no one has ever seen, and the thought of what you could do with this info if you ever were to turn on him makes him feel sick to the stomach.

ੈ✧̣̇ || despite how it feels sometimes he really does care about and love you, he just has an unhealthy mindset when it comes to love.

ੈ✧̣̇ || perhaps you should stay around (not like u rlly have a choice), teach him how to love someone properly. you wont regret it :)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

i do requests!

check out my masterlist!

[popponn]

Hihi, im the same anon that loves ur page!!

the froggys are seriously silly :)

Anyways, can i request some hcs abt bllk boys with a reader who's going thru a depressive episode? im just goin thru stuff rn, if u can't its fine.

So, hows ur day been?

I hope you're well

have a great day! <33

byebye💖

notes: anonnie;;; i hope you are feeling better when you finally read this;;; this took so long, im sorry. i have been busy and there are lot of things going on, but i am fine thank you for asking :> and hey, a depressive episode could be tough. but you got this! okay? try to take it slow and step by step, drink water, eat food, and move around a bit. a light walk or a stretch is okay. like how the clouds always change, things will change. i hope reading this could give you a little happiness, especially when you need it.

isagi

if you are looking for someone who will listen and give practical advice without dismissing your feelings or concerns, honestly he is the one. especially as a boyfriend, you can trust him to be the one who will sit beside you on the sofa while wrapping you in the blanket. will ask you what you want to eat and the moment you decide to fight the cold hard life back, don’t worry, your isagi yoichi will be your #1 supporter! especially if you guys have spent more time in the relationship, he really is good at balancing giving comfort while still giving you trust to walk on your own. though he sometimes couldn’t 100% understand your point of view, but the sincerity in his effort to be always there for you is no joke. he promised every part of him he could give to you and he means every word of it.

bachira

who hurt his baby—he will fight it. somehow. he has this odd sixth sense when it comes to you. just with a glance, he will immediately get how down you feel and what you need. a joke and a cheer up along with many kisses? coming right up. a listener who will hug you like a koala? do you want to do that while cuddling in the bed or in public in front of his friends because he won’t hesitate honestly. just say what you want—if he must eat a cake messily like 5 year old to make you laugh then so be it. will get you out for recreation the moment he could and if he couldn’t that means it’s time for his creativity to shine (and boy does it always shine). but if the one that makes you feel down is someone, bachira is not one for violence but he could you know. if you want. (please stop him.)

rin

if you don’t cry, at best he will be an awkward listener—but a good listener nonetheless. if you cry, though, honestly he will panic. this guy is already not good with his own emotions, so you need to be clear about what you want with him. he is not the best with words though, and advice he offers is usually either “let me just fix this for you” or a straight up detached, objective one that is better offered to someone with a cool head and controlled emotion. therefore, more often than not, he opts to just listen and hold your hand. he will try to help, though, and if he can’t—at the very least you will get a really menacing guard dog who won’t let anyone mess with you while you are trying to get up. (also, go tell him to buy something. his credit card is ready and feeling like he is doing something for you is good for the both of you.)

sae

itoshi gene is harsh and he is somehow worse than his brother in this scenario. he is a naturally critical person towards anything. if you are ready to get your fault pointed out and think up a “what can i do to make this better or avoid this from happening again” go to him, but if you are looking for someone who will listen or give validation, as much as you love him, don’t. him and a terrible headspace is not a good combination. however, a direct “can you hug me?” or a “can you do something for me?” is not completely out of the question—he, after all, still cares about you. high chance he won’t ask, especially if you said you don’t want to say anything, but in this situation the softer part of him who has a hard time saying no to you truly comes out. a movie night, even if it involves the goddamned fries, would happen. he is smart enough to know when to spoil you, especially since he knows your habits and tendencies by heart.

kunigami

the sort of person who sees a hint of gloom on your face and immediately cradles it with a tenderness that no one would expect from someone with his build. he is a good, caring person by nature, if you are looking for someone to help you, he is the best choice. he can be clumsy sometimes and the words he gives to cheer you up have a high chance of being uttered with a lot of pauses in the middle—but the way he acts will probably be enough to bring a smile to your face again (and he will also smile along with you when this happen because by god you are his happiness). all those aside, high chance he can’t give advice, but he will give you top-notch cheering up—words, actions, cuddles, everything—along with genuine validation. (especially after wild card, he has seen hell. “feeling terrible” is something he understands a lot.)

kaiser

for this one i won’t sugarcoat it: jesus christ. why. is there no one else?

jokes aside, as i love to bully him a bit here, objectively—this really depends on the sort of type of person you are. if you are looking for advice or validation or a listener—not him. but if you are the sort of person who prefers a distraction or the “tough love” sort of motivation that is more scathing and heartless—borderline degrading—he is the one. out of spite, his words are probably enough to spur you into action, forgetting whatever blue feeling you have as it has turned into a red raging anger. however, a little note, believe it or not, this actually comes from a caring place in his heart. kaiser is someone with many, many harsh edges—and this comes more from “i rather see you angry and living than seeing you down without me being able to do anything” root that he rather die than say out loud.

nagi

the best you could get is a passive listener. worse you can get is a passive listener who still plays games. the worst you can get is that one scene where isagi has a legitimate concern and gets his hair pulled by this guy. another one who is better to have as a company in seeking distraction for the time than anything. but, despite how admittedly terrible he is in cheering you up with words, he truly makes it up by action when it finally hits him how down and different you are. it will take a few hours or a few days, but he will get there. afterward, expect many small sweet gestures ranging from cute gifts, your favorite snacks, et cetera. your chatroom with him will too suddenly get noisy with many cute stickers and “u ok? :x” for at least a few weeks. (also he is shameless enough to ask out loud to his teammates about what should he do with you when he realizes how stuck he is. so hey. there is that: possible extra brains if you need a solution.)

reo

common knowledge that he never shies away from using that money of his when he needs to and this is one of those situations where he genuinely considers taking you away for a trip so you can feel better near a sunny beach or a peaceful lake—you pick. if you don’t want that, however, this guy is still the best when it comes to understanding you and will be there until you give him a smile. what else do you expect from someone with a complete set of love languages? do watch out though, he is also someone who could get angry pretty quickly, especially when it involves something or someone he cares about—and this time it’s you. on a brighter note, though, this means if you are looking for someone to shit talk with, he is the one. he is a smart caring boyfriend, so talking with him during this time will do a lot of good to you. a good advice along with good validation.

bonus round:

barou — has this very awkward and unique way of cheering you up by getting you to clean the house along with him (and somehow he is less strict with you this time) and then cooking for you after; somehow always works like a charm. yukimiya — do you know all those shoujo manga perfect handsome famous sporty smart boyfriends? this is it. coming to you live. chigiri — shit-talking session that will soon move on to a pep talk that will give you every bit of confidence and drive you to need. a best friend and a boyfriend in one package. one of the people who truly knows and understands how despairing an overwhelming situation could be. karasu — will he tease you a bit like a meanie to distract you, ironically? yes. but if you need an advisor to brainstorm the best possible solution he is also the one.

[yesimwriting]

MA'M I LOVE YOUR BEST FRIEND FELIX WRITINGS BUT MY JEALOUS AND SOFTY SHORT ASS CAN'T HANDLE IT 😭 IM HURTING MYSELF BUT IT HURTS SO GOOD, LIKE IF I WAS BEST FRIEND Y/N ID BE BAWLING MY EYES OUT AFTER SEEING HIM WITH ANOTHER GIRL LIKE- WHY IS ALL OF THIS SO CARDIGAN BY TS CODED-

a/n i love taylor and taylor related angst and i get the jealousy thing,, but i think the thing with bestfriend!felix is that he's so obvious about his priorities that by the time reader can register jealousy,, felix is already there

so here's a drabble

----

Going out tonight wasn't your idea. A week of long lectures and even longer homework had drained you. But Felix wanted to...and you...You wanted to be around Felix.

Maybe Farleigh's comments about you following Felix around like a puppy aren't as exaggerated as they feel when you're sober. Ugh. The thought of Farleigh being right gives that pinch of irritation something to latch onto.

"They have those drinks you like." The voice is clear despite the base of the music that you can still hear from right outside the club. You turn your head away from the group of stragglers hanging around the outdoor bar. "Had. I got the last one."

You grin at Felix, any lingering angst not exactly evaporating into the cool night air, but the shift is enough to make the smile feel unforced. "Lucky."

He's finally within arm's reach, a fact that he takes advantage of immediately. Felix's palm settles against your shoulder, his thumb dragging across your skin. "Extremely." There's a fondness there that chips away at what's left of your irritation. "Here." You take the glass from him. "Sam almost tackled another bar tender to get the last of the simple syrup."

Ironically, the sip that's halfway down your throat seems to lose any hints of sweetness as soon as the words come out of Felix's mouth. You've met Sam, and while you don't dislike her, you're not sure the neutrality is mutual.

It's a fact you don't dwell. Sam's a bottle blonde bar tender who looks like she was born to walk around in low cut tank tops and cut off shorts. Not that her being pretty matters, but there's an edge to her beauty that implies an effortless coolness that doesn't usually meld with who you are. It's no one's fault. You think those types of girls are charming and fun in a way that's somehow even bolder than the friends that you consider wild. It's just never been a mutual admiration.

And Sam's been hanging around Felix a lot lately, showing up at parties, staying later than anyone else besides you. They've gone home together a few times. Felix hasn't said too much about that, but that doesn't indicate anything. You guys don't talk about that kind of stuff. Even best friends as close as you two have boundaries.

Not that it matters if Felix is with someone like Sam. She seems fun and pretty and bold and--the total opposite of you.

That hits you like a thumb jabbing into a bruise. Since when is Felix's constantly rotating door of flings a sore point? When he pawns you off on Farleigh--even when he's not in the mood for you--so he can have a moment in the employee bathroom.

"Y'okay?"

You nod, "Yeah." Felix's eyebrows pinch together, a barely there implication of concern that's almost ignorable beneath the poor lighting. "Everything's just kind of hitting me a little."

He nods, "Do you need to sit?" Felix's hold on your shoulder tightens. "Is that why you came outside?"

"Uh--no." The response feels flat. "I mean--yeah, I wanted some air, but I don't feel sick or anything."

He watches you openly for what feels like its own eternity. You're not sure what he's looking for, but you must not pass the inspection because he frowns. "Okay." As if to validate Felix's attempt at letting your mood go, you bring your glass back to your lips. "You know--if you're not feeling--if you want to go, you can tell me."

"I know." You do know that. Felix has always been good about listening, about wanting to make sure you're comfortable.

You take another sip of your drink. Of course Sam's good at mixing drinks. You can picture her tripping over herself, rushing to grab the nearly empty bottle of syrup and risking making an enemy of a coworker to avoid having to tell Felix no.

Felix takes a step forward, his hand sliding across your back so that his arm can settle around your shoulders. It's instinct to lean into the contact. He's warm in a way that rivals the buzz in your system. "When we do go, we're going to have to go out the back way."

You let your head rest against his side. "Why?"

"Don't think Sam's going to be going out of her way to get me drinks again."

You crane your neck to look up at him, "What? Why?"

His eyes meet yours, and then he's dropping his gaze to the floor. "You have become such a gossip."

A sound that's a combination between a scoff and a laugh tumbles past your lips. "Have not."

"You and Farleigh," Felix continues, "You two always need to ask, always need to have an opinion."

"Not true," you defend weakly, "If I was a gossip I'd talk about how slutty--"

You cut yourself off, regretting your phrasing as soon as the word is out. Felix pulls back slightly, mouth falling open in exaggerated offense. "You called me a slut?"

"No," you defend yourself through a laugh, "I was saying that you have been slutty." Felix raises his eyebrows at you. "It's different." Felix's eyes narrow in an attempt to offset the smile tugging at his lips. "It is."

"Yeah?" He leans forward with no warning, his lips pressing against your cheek. That kiss is followed by another. Again and again, each more affectionate and touchy than the last.

His lips brush against your jaw. "Fe-lix." It wants to be a warning, but the nervous giggle that breaks his name into two makes coming off as threatening impossible.

"What?" He hums, his lips finding your neck. "If I'm that slutty, we should have a go at it."

You laugh, ignoring the heat burning its way up your neck because it's just Felix. "There's a bathroom inside."

Felix stills before pulling away enough to look you in the eye. There's the faintest flush tinging his skin. You laugh again, this time the sound fuller. It's nice to see flashes of the softer side of Felix while out in the real world. Felix laughs with you.

You tilt your head, pressing a kiss against his cheek. "For you, I'd spring for a hotel room."

"Now I feel special."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[bonecarversbestie]

Butterflies - Elain Archeron/Elucien

Mini oneshot ~500 words | rating: G (or as i like to call these short fics: a snicky snack 😋)

This was inspired by my obsession with short hair!Elain.

This fic is also available on AO3

(Also for the record, I don't think Feyre and Nesta would react like this but I had to do it for plot reasons)

---------------------------------

Elain beamed as she made her way through her garden toward the River House’s back door. She kept running her fingers through the short curls at the nape of her neck, giggling to herself as butterflies fluttered in her chest.

She had gotten the haircut on a whim. She'd been struck by the impulse while out shopping and had let it carry her straight through the front doors of the salon.

When it was done, Elain had stared at her reflection in the salon’s mirror for so long that the stylist had had to gently shoo her from the shop to make room for her next client. She had felt like she was seeing herself for the first time—her delicate features now more pronounced, and the pointed ears she’d come to love proudly on display—and she simply couldn’t look away.

Her hair had always been a burden—too heavy and too hot when she was cooking or gardening, and a veil she’d hidden behind because she knew others found it beautiful. She felt lighter now than she ever had before.

Elain bit her lip, still smiling, as she let herself into the house.

“Elain!” Feyre’s voice rang out as she entered the kitchen. Feyre and Nesta were perched on the counter, picking strawberries out of a bowl of fresh fruit.

Feyre leapt from the counter and rushed toward her. She began running her fingers through Elain’s hair. “What happened?” Feyre asked, voice laced with confusion and concern.

Elain’s smile faltered, and her shoulders sagged. “What do you mean? I got a haircut.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line as she looked Elain over.

Elain’s brows furrowed. “You don’t like it?”

Nesta hadn’t moved from her place on the counter, but the horror in her sister’s eyes was unmistakable even from where she stood in the doorway.

“No, no, it’s not that I don’t like it.” Feyre insisted. “It’s just…different.”

The butterflies in Elain’s chest began to die one by one.

“You’ve always had long, beautiful hair. It’s just jarring that you would make this choice so suddenly.” Feyre’s expression became distant as she spoke to someone mind to mind—likely Rhysand.

She blinked rapidly, refocusing her attention on Elain. “We have to go—there’s a meeting, but we can discuss this more after dinner.”

Elain sighed as Feyre and Nesta left the room. She wasn’t sure what there was to talk about. She had cut her hair. It was done. And she had loved it. She hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction.

Elain set about aggressively scrubbing produce for that night’s dinner.

Footsteps approached, and someone paused in the doorway. She braced herself for their reaction as she turned to face them.

It was Lucien. He lingered in the arched doorway, blinking at her rapidly as if he were staring into the sun. A slow, radiant smile bloomed on his lips. “You cut your hair.”

Elain sighed heavily. “Everyone hates it,” she muttered, letting her head fall despondently to one side.

“Do you hate it?” Lucien’s voice was gentle.

Elain lifted her gaze to meet his and shook her head. “I love it.”

Lucien nodded, eyes twinkling. “Then go on loving it.”  His voice was soft, almost breathless. “It is lovely.”

Elain twinkled back at him, and a single butterfly stirred back to life in her chest.

---------------------------------

A quick sketch i did of short hair Elain -- a treat for those of you who read all the way to the bottom *forehead kiss 4 u* 😘

(also for the record i know Elain doesn't need a man's validation for her haircut, but i just think that Lucien would see her and immediately understand its significance to her)

[antiphilosophia]

Crowley's pre-fall name is BARAQIEL (THEORY)

THIS POST MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS OR RATHER CLUES FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 CONTENTS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION 🤍

Very well. Who doesn't love the Crowley is the Archangel Raphael theory (I am certainly of those people who do). During my first watch of Good Omens S2 I was even somehow almost confident that that was the case.

However, my second, more careful, viewing of this lovely (but equally heartbreaking) season made me change my mind, likely for good. In episode 4, Furfur's book "Demon's Guide To Angelic Beings Who Walk The Earth" shows us a name of a certain angel Baraqiel. (see photo below) Knowing Good Omens that can hardly be a coincidence.

Unfortunately, the very text is quite unreadable. One thing, other than the name, which is pretty clear is the subheading "Angel of the Sky" and since the episode 1 lets us take a look at how Crowley did indeed take part in creation of what is to be seen in the night sky, one can hardly find that entirely non-fitting. One other sentence I was (at least I think) able to read is "Often draped in red."

(On a different note but certainly worth noticing are scribbles that generally just roast Crowley – his suspiciousness, hair and name (though I am not absolutely sure of the latter) "His hair is bad!" Wow, Furfur really does hate Crowley.)

Then there is something written above the name of Baraqiel, unfortunately in none of the picture frames does it get a bit readable. I wonder though, couldn't it be "former"? Since it comes precisely after mention of Crowley to whom should one report on Aziraphale.

Crowley is very powerful. Dominion

A word that is not exactly readable but can be deduced from its placement (it is situated just as Aziraphale's "Principality") is Baraqiel's rank – Dominion Angel. It should be noted here that I very much lack proper knowledge of either Jewish or Christian mythology and I would hate to provide any incorrect claims. I therefore think it is better for me not to overly state things, even more so since everyone can look into it on their own and figure out what that might mean for our beloved demon. What I will say, however, is that they are (as I understand it) very powerful and, placed within the 2nd triad in the angel hierarchy, ranked higher than the Archangels. This would go well along with the emphasis that was in my opinion laid on Crowley's powers quite a lot this season.

For example: "A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of archangels could've performed," said Shax to Crowley, to which he replied: "How'd you know I didn't do it?" He didn't get an answer.

What I think (and I may be very wrong, obviously) is that a miracle of this vastness wouldn't have happened simply because of a regular angel and a regular demon did together half a miracle each. What is also worth noticing is that the tool with which Crowley created the Nebula is the same as the one he used to temporarily stop time at the end of season 1 right before Satan's arrival. So much to the size of his powers.

Baraqiel, lightning of God. Fallen angel

Finally, to Baraqiel himself. My lack of knowledge concerning this matter still stands and frankly I don't even know where to find valid information about angels and such on the internet. Baraqiel should, however, stand for "lightning of God" and is also regarded as the angel of lightning. In season 2 there are (as far as I remember) two occasions where Crowley is put in correlation with lightning. (1) His poor anger management issues in episode 1 and (2) his not at all better matchmaking in episode 3 ("I haven't done weather in ages"). Furthermore, Baraqiel is considered to be the one who taught astrology to people. Nevertheless, what points to Crowley and Baraqiel being one even more is that Baraqiel is indeed a fallen angel.

•

So... That is probably it. I usually tent to theorize about stuff in quiet, in fact, this is the first time I've used Tumblr for anything other than reading Neil Gaiman's posts. I didn't even think that I would actually post it but then I've searched on Twitter, TikTok and here on Tumblr if anyone else has already come up with this theory. The only post I could find (hopefully I haven't missed anything) was by @valaza_04 on Twitter (click here) where they refer to the same frame shot as I do here.

Now I know, we are still recovering from heartbreaking (but if you ask me, absolutely amazing) finale and the main thing currently on our minds is figuring out why would Aziraphale choose as he did and the many wonderful theories that come with it. However, considering the utterly virulent look that Metatron shot at Crowley before walking out of the bookshop with Aziraphale and also his "Well, [Crowley] always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too." makes me think that he absolutely does not care for Crowley and whichever angel he was before the Fall. And I reckon it won't remain unnoticed in season 3 and might even be really important (or that is just me wishing for more pre-fall Crowley scenes). Hence I decided that I will post this. And it doesn't matter if no one will see this in the end, it was quite fun to write. However, if there is someone who will read this all the way through, I hope they will accept my apology for the mistakes I have most possibly made (English is not my first language) and also for the ridiculous length this post has come to gather. It turns out, I am just as chatty of a writer as I am speaker.

Well maybe I will come around to write one more post about this theory, only with a proper research this time. Till then thank you and, please, support this season by streaming as much as you can so we can have season 3 of this masterpiece of a show. And be kind to those bringing it to us in your comments regarding the ending, even though it is very frustrating and heart-shattering, it is also maybe the best ending we could have hoped for with the prospects of season 3.

Thank you for letting me talk my heart out, Tumblr.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/767420735500271616/so-the-thing-with-content-is-that-is-literally?source=share

The thing that makes the jellyfish hat content is that it is an object containing paper mache, fabric, cardboard, and the assorted accoutrements of jellyfish hat-making (the optional but popular add-ons go listed here in your head).

and implies that the container is more relevant in this specific context than the thing contained

No. that's not an implication. That's a thing you're making up in order to have an excuse to get angry about someone using a word you don't like, but it's not true. If I say, "I dumped open the contents of the box onto the floor", it is very easily discerned by most readers I am looking for something specific that is within the contents of that box. It is insanity to insist that the word content = the container being the most important thing on Earth. If I write "he opened the small box, revealing its' content: a single, small wedding ring" and you think the box is the focus, I just flat-out don't know what to tell you.

Setting that aside: holy shit, please calm down. I'm a bit busy with organizing resources for my local trans community at the moment but I promise you, there are worse problems than someone using a word you don't like. There was an election this year - don't know if you noticed - that impacts real people. Looking at all your anon and off-anon replies, the thing I keep thinking is, "Holy shit, who fucking cares? There are actual issues going on in the world right now!"

The fact that something I sent in during a ten minute snack break at work and quickly forgot about lives rent-free in your head to this degree days after it was said is highly, highly concerning. I cannot convey enough to you how much I did not mean to set off an episode in you, and at the same time, I am also very genuine when I say this may be a hill you're willing to die on, but it's not a hill I'm willing to kill you on. I kill people on important hills and jellyfish hats ain't it, chief.

It's wild to spend my time IRL trying to help people figure out what to do if our state makes it illegal for them to get HRT in-state and then pull up my phone and see someone this pressed about the word "content". Surely your life also has an important issue you could spend time on? No one is having a particularly good time right now. Maybe focus on a thing with literally any relevance to your quality of life whatsoever? I know that sounds glib. However, having had manic episodes where one thing someone said to me sent me over the edge, I'm not being glib. I really mean it when I say that redirecting your focus onto something important helps snap you out of it. It's how I got myself out of it before I was able to get medicated for my Bipolar Disorder. I take zero joy in seeing someone forth at the mouth because one person said one word and that made them spiral. I really do apologize, and I can see that this panic is a very real, valid emotion on your end. But 'valid' here is used only in the sense of 'I believe you when you say you feel panicked', not 'the panic is a logical, proportionate response to the trigger'. (As a side note, after this many anon and off-anon messages indicating fixation and extreme emotional overinvestment, I don't want anyone saying I misused the word trigger. This is not a proportionate response to someone using one word you dislike.)

The jellyfish hat contains materials needed to construct a hat. It doesn't need ads or legal agreements in order to contain cardboard, paper mache, etc. You are trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Likely, you are taking your anger at something that actually matters and redirecting it onto this, a thing that does not matter. I'm not saying that in judgment - we all do it - but I am not going to be replying to this further. You may have a desire to use other people's words as an excuse to spiral but you'll have to find someone else to use the reason you're losing your shit.

The hat contains the materials needed to construct a hat. It's not that deep.

--