#i'm so bored it should be a criminal offense

[polepositioned]

moots n whoever else feels like it PLEASE send me your controversial f1 opinions/takes on anon and we'll discuss

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Cw: I'll use the canon ages for this piece, but this is not the case for all my work, gender neutral reader, may be kinda masc aligned, pre-atsv movie, no proofread, fluff, found family?

Hobie Brown x hispanic!punk!reader & Gwen Stacy (platonic)

It was the early morning, specks of not-so-warm sun would creep to your face and wake you up, Hobie was laying beside you, you didn't try to wake him up, you might as well try to wake up a rock. Hobie was a much heavier sleeper since his spidey senses kicked in, relaxing now that he had a clearer notion of danger, however, your spider senses did the opposite, leaving you alert at all times. You stretched, like a cat, groaning as you sensed the sleep wash off your body and put on sweatpants to go into the kitchen, you'd probably return to bed after eating, it had been almost a month since you were home. Almost a month listening to Miguel tell you that your mission was to "observe and report" an anomaly that may or may not happen. Almost a month of wanting to call off Miguel on his bullshit, for one, having the lamest most half-assed theory of what's "canon" and two, for giving you a boring job away from home.

As you set foot in your kitchen, you saw an unfamiliar figure, you put on a battle stance, who was this person? Why didn't your spidey senses warned you? Were you that tired? You examined how to proceed, the intruder seemed rather small, but you've seen some shit in the spider society and know that age or even species should not be a reason to underestimate your opponent, they were standing still next to the open pantry, they heard you, you run to them in an offensive stance, ready to fight, but she backs down, panics, and apologizes, you feel like a brick was comedically thrown your way as you realize you were about to throw hands with a sixteen year old.

"Ay, mija, I'm sorry-" you blurt out when she explains Hobie let her stay here, and she was also part of the spider society

"Do you think I can eat something? There's a lot of jars in here but I don't know what are they" she asked, still hesitantly

"Yeah, we have yogurt, fruit, granola, eggs"

Gwen accepted the granola, she had thought that Hobie would live off instant ramen or anything of that sorts. As you quietly shared breakfast with (a tense) Gwen, Hobie came into the living room and threw a shirt your way, you were very grateful as you were topless because you couldn't find you pajama shirt this morning (later saw Gwen was wearing it).

Hobie yawned loudly and opened his eyes widely remembering he forgot to introduce you two

"aye crap- forgot you were back, y/n, this' Gwen, 'been letting her crash for a few days"

You side eyed him, playfully feigning an angry expression before eating another bite of breakfast and ignoring him

Your guest saw this interaction and started stimming a bit

"Mornin' Hobie, I- I'm sure I can crash at Peter's or someone else's place tomorrow now that Y/N came back, thank you for letting me stay here" she tried to seem unbothered but it didn't really work

"No, no, I don't mind you staying here, I was just annoyed that this moron Hobie didn't told me and let me scare you this morning, you really can stay as long as you need"

Hobie hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek "no need to get aggressive, luv"

Gwen Stacy had went through a lot. A lot. Losing her best friend, a rather... Difficult relationship with her father, being technically a wanted criminal, but on top of that and more, Gwen was homeless, literally and emotionally.

She saw how some spiders were able to live a let's call it "normal" life, Peter B. Parker being a father, Hobie Brown having a stable relationship, Jessica Drew with a baby on the way, but there were others, Miguel, Peni, and maybe, her, Gwen really thought that she was one of those spidermans that had to fly solo, fight alone, after Peter's passing, she was sure she didn't want "distractions", but then Miles came along, and now he was lost too.

She was grateful for both you and Hobie housing her, and looking out for her, and even if she didn't want to admit it, you gave her a home again. The playful banter, the food waiting for them at home after a concert, your smile in the crowd cheering for both of them, the nicknames, the sleepovers with Pavitr, she had friends again, you and Hobie took the role of older siblings to her and Pav, even when Hobie was a force of chaos, he never badly endangered any of his loved ones.

Gwen was a little shy to admit how natural the domestic dynamic felt, like now, with her accompanying you to get "groceries", you talked the whole way walking across the grafitti filled streets, until getting to an abandoned building, not that she wasn't acquaintanced with crusty old sketchy buildings already (living with you two) but this was no supermarket.

"It doesn't look like there's groceries in here" she said with a quirked brow

"Just you wait" you responded as the door was opened and you said hi to the people inside, she waved back to the strangers that seemed to welcome you two, it was an odd crowd, but weren't all crowds odd? People of all ages, ranging from infants playing, to elders in battle jackets with antifa imagery. There were large windows that let the sun light up the place, this was probably a mansion in its glory days, multiple pots with different herbs and flowers were hanged in the walls, and a big open gate that showed the garden, with a small chicken coop and full of colorful and lively crops of vegetables and fruit trees.

"Ready to shop?" You asked with a toothy smile

"What?" Gwen followed you to the garden

You handed her a basket "Take what you'll eat, I'll get mine and Hobie's food"

"Like... Just take it?"

"Yep, take what you'll need, no more, no less, if you want eggs, they're inside, trust me, you don't want to get in that coop, el gallo is a fucking menace"

She took some fruits and other goods, you handed a lady another basket and then left with Gwen

"Did we just got all this for free?" The blonde asked staring at the basket full of food and ingredients

"Not really, I made a basket of pan de pascua and a pot of ropa vieja"

"Oh, so is like a trade, that makes more sense"

"I mean, if you ain't got nothing you can still take, you can also help around the garden and stuff. You see, Gwen, you can't be an anarchist if you don't give a shit about the people around you, the people in need. In a world like this, kindness is revolutionary."

Maybe Gwen was starting to understand a lot more than her canon had prepared for her.

[therealtsk]

What Your Favorite Worm Ship Says About You

some people have found my crusty, old ass tumblr post on this very topic, so im making a new one with my updated opinions! Cause those are, in fact, allowed to change. Enjoy! Taylor x Lisa: you're into relationships that could be dysfunctional or healthy with one push in either direction. also something something sun lesbian moon lesbian. Taylor x Rachel: You love dogs, and you want a girlfriend who can kick your ass. You're also into bomber jackets. I respect you. Taylor x Alec: Sadly, you do exist, and you did make it weird. Go away! Taylor x Amy: You read altpowers on the daily and complain about canon worm being too grimdark. Solid odds on you having never read worm. To be clear, it's worse if you have. also something something FBI OPEN UP Taylor x Victoria: You like the vibes of Lisa and Taylor's dynamic, but you want them to be a little more heroic and a little less dysfunctional. But only a little. Taylor x Clockblocker: You're straight and liked that one joke that cropped up. I also haven't seen any of you in a hot minute, thank god. No offense but this ship is mad boring.

Taylor x Sophia: You've come to realize that Sophia is a great character who gets done extremely dirty by the rest of the fandom. Also, rivals to lovers. Taylor x Emma: This can go one of two ways. Either you adore childhood friends to lovers, or you love enemies to lovers. Either way, you're obsessed with hurt and/or comfort fics. Taylor x Theo: You actually read Worm and recognize that Theo is criminally underrated in the fandom. Now just stop shipping him with Taylor and you'll complete the next step on your journey to enlightenment.

Taylor x Simurgh: I can't say for sure you're a anime fan, but you're definitely at least a little bit of a monsterfucker. also something something inherent eroticism of being world-destroying power couple. Taylor x Greg. You read Worm SI's unironically and get really defensive when people say that Greg is an incel. Completely unrelated, you haven't spoken to a woman other then your mother in five years. Taylor x Cherie: I've been informed this is a ship. I've yet to be informed as of a reason why I should like it. Cherie likers stay mad!

Lisa x Rachel: I don't remember the last time I saw this ship that wasn't also tagged as a polycule with Taylor, so I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're an OT3 enjoyer.

Lisa x Victoria: You’re into the “enemies to lovers” trope, but more of the "Spiderman x Black Cat" type then the "you murdered my entire home town but i can't help but find you sexy" type. Also you have a thing for blondes

Lisa x Faultline: Your ideal relationship dynamic is bickering married couple. You're also into heist movies.

Lisa x Simurgh: You have a thing for smart girls... who hate you. Also, you really liked Part of the Whole.  Contessa x Alexandria: You're fucking based. Also something something inherent eroticism of girlbosses winning Contessa x Numberman: you're friends with Peri and enjoy memes about pants and math Numberman x Jack Slash: You think serial killers are hot and are starved for m/m ships. Danny x Eidolon: You're losersexual and are starved for m/m ships. Also you frequent r/wormemes Danny x Miss Militia: Honestly, i think you all died out. I couldn't be happier, this ship is fucking dumb. Amy x Literally Anyone Besides Taylor: listen, there's like a hundred different jokes i could make here, but all of them boil down to amy defenders always defending the rapist for some reason so let's just agree amy defenders are fucking cringe and move on Dragon x Defiant: You understand that this is unironically the only healthy relationship in worm with some of the best character growth and romance in the entire story, and a majority of all of it happens off screen. You're extremely bitter that so many fanfics do both of them so dirty they get beaten into different characters. Alec x Aisha: You like the idea of this ship, cause two pranksters making everyone miserable is the kinda vibe you enjoy, but constantly run into the issue that Alec is...well. Alec. That or you're into Alec's brand of shit, in which case, FBI OPEN UP Aisha x Missy: You read It's Cold Out There Every Day. I did too. Fuck, this fic is so good. I'm going to go cry about the ending again. Lily x Sabah: Yes, you know the age gap is a little problematic, you just want to be happy with your relatively healthy canon lesbians goddamn it Purity x Literally Anyone: You don't understand why people keep calling you racist. You're not! You're just weirdly defensive of the hot milf who murders people of color and seem to constantly bring up that Kaiser didn't actually believe the nazi propaganda he was peddling. You are racist btw Taylor x Brian: You...are Wildbow

[bow-of-aros]

Here's the Plan

Summary:

Scrags really needs to stop trying to make the plans. Nobody likes listening to reason nowadays.

Hey folks!!!! Enjoy another Solve It Squad fic because I'm mentally ill about Scrags and he's perfect to me. Sorry about the minimal Gwen dialogue I'm still figuring out her voice but I had a lot of fun with this one so I hope that y'all like it!!

“Alright guys, here’s the plan.” Scrags sat in the passenger seat of their van, folders spread out across his lap as he pored over documents. “I’m going to knock on the front door and politely ask—”

“Ugh. Boring!” He probably should’ve seen this coming. Keith was never one for reasonable plans.

Or plans that weren’t his own.

Or, you know, plans.

Nevertheless, he barrelled on over Scrags’ defeated sigh, “Alright gang, here’s what we’re actually going to do!”

Scrags glanced in the mirror to see Gwen in the seat behind Keith, scrolling through her phone and not paying the least bit of attention. Behind Scrags was Esther, half-asleep and drooling into the fist that was keeping their head propped up and somehow paying even less attention.

“Gwen! You’re going to distract Mr. Campbell by telling him that your car broke down and you need help. Do whatever you need to to keep him off our scent.” Gwen gave a vague nod and Keith’s gaze shifted to Esther, “Esther! You’re going to break into the shed where we’re pretty sure he’s keeping his hacker lair and download whatever looks important onto the USB thingy that Scrags made us get. Also, you should totally change his username to something stupid like ButtMonkey69! That’ll show him.”

Esther let out a soft snore before slipping off of their fist and jolting awake, “Fuck off you fucking pigs!” Then they blinked a few times and said, “Oh, what? Yeah whatever. Shed, tech, yadda yadda.”

Keith beamed at them through the mirror, “Bingo! While you’re doing that, Scrags and I will sneak into his office using Scrags’ badass spy skills and find the papers that he stole from that one lady with all those codes on them!”

“Woah! Slow your roll there, Keith! We are not doing any breaking and entering of any kind!” Scrags’ protest was immediately met with groans from the rest of the group. “No! No complaining! That is illegal and I am an officer of the law! I’m just going to show him my badge and he’ll let us in.”

A snort sounded from behind him, “No he won’t,” Esther drawled, “It’s his right to not let you in without a warrant. Which you don’t have. Also if he knows that the feds are onto him he’ll wipe everything from his system and then we’ll really never get him.”

“Also, no offense Scrags, but you’re not exactly the most persuasive person. This guy hasn’t left even a speck of actual tangible evidence, he’s not gonna let something slip after you ask him nicely,” Gwen adds. She doesn’t even afford him the decency of looking up from whatever Instagram reel she’s watching.

Scrags had no such qualms as he twisted around in his seat to look at them both incredulously. “We are not breaking in anywhere! I’m literally a cop, I won’t be picking any locks or cracking any safes without clearance!”

Silence echoed through the cramped space and Scrags thought he’d finally made his point before Keith exclaimed up beside him, “YOU CAN CRACK SAFES?!”

He brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to readjust his grip on his patience. Scrags has dealt with some truly horrendous criminals, and being the best agent in his division comes with the wonderful side effect of making enemies of some very dangerous people. He’s literally been captured, tortured, and held hostage more than once in his career.

Surely he could handle his three friends in a cramped space.

“Yes Keith, I can crack safes. It was part of my training in my division and I currently hold the record for the fastest time.” What? Scrags is allowed to brag a little. “And no, I will not show you because that would require breaking the law. Lockpicking Scrags is a thing of the past, sorry to disappoint.”

Keith’s too busy gaping, caught up in what is most likely a grossly exaggerated sequence of Scrags’ adventures in safecracking, so Gwen finally reaches forward to grab onto his shoulder, shaking him. “Come on, Scrags! You were always better than us with those magic fingers of yours!”

To emphasize her point, she reaches a little further and crawls her fingers up the side of his neck, laughing when Scrags jerks away with a choked-off snort. He brings a hand up to rub away the lingering sensation as he says “Okay, first of all, that’s disgusting. Never say that I have ‘magic fingers’ again. Second of all,” He raises his voice to be heard over the resulting jeers, “if you guys are doing this, I want no part in it! Keith can figure it out on his own!”

He raised his hands in defense of the volley of protests and complaints launched his way. Keith going as far as taking a hand off of the steering wheel to smack him much to Scrags’ immediate panic.

“You can’t make me do it, dude! I’ve never been able to figure out all that shit. It’s too much paying close attention for me and I never had to do it with you around!” Keith complained.

Esther, having been quiet for the last little bit, finally offered, “What? Do you not remember how to?”

Scrags could feel their smirk directed at him as he sputtered, “Hey— What?! Of course I still know how to! What kind of—I mean—I’m a field agent!”

“Yeah? Prove it then. Pick the lock on Mr. Campbell's back door.” They were goading him. Scrags knew that they were goading him.

“No!” He was putting his foot down, “I’m not doing it and you can’t make me!”

Something shifted at that. The atmosphere in the van became supercharged and Scrags could feel the hairs on his arms rising. Gwen and Keith were holding their breath while the weight of Esther’s stare bore down on him.

Scrags refused to falter. Give Esther an inch and you were wrapped up in a bow before you knew it. So he faced forward and he didn’t say anything, not when he heard the concerning click of a seatbelt becoming undone, not when the sound of them shifting closer to him reached his ears, and not even when they said “Are you sure about that? Last chance to change your mind.”

Maybe he should’ve said something. Maybe that would’ve saved him from his fate. But he didn’t and Esther shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Suddenly, two hands clawed into his ribs from behind, and his resulting shriek shocked Keith into swerving just slightly before righting them.

“Esther no!” Scrags’ attempt to jolt out of reach was thwarted by the seatbelt locking him in place, trapping him woefully in reach of Esther’s evil grasp. “Plehehehease!”

Of course, his pleading went unheard. “Alright shitheads, here’s the new plan!” They shouted over Scrags’ laughter, “It’s the exact same as the old plan, but I tickle Scrags until he agrees to pull his goddamn weight. Who’s with me?”

His frantic “Nohohoho!” was enthusiastically drowned out by a resounding “Hell yeah!” from Gwen and Keith.

“Sounds good. We’re ready whenever you are, Scrags!” They didn’t bother letting up, kneading at his sides in a way that had him wheezing as he tried to slap their hands away. His attempts to at least double over continued to be thoroughly unsuccessful, much to everyone’s delight.

“Oh this is just perfect!” Gwen said, “Keith, get his knees for us, the fans are definitely gonna want to see that. And do you mind angling your face a little more towards me, Scrags? I want to capture that adorable smile in all its glory!”

Scrags did her one better and whipped around in shock to see a camera pointed at him, the face behind it beaming at him.

He didn’t get a chance to say anything before he heard Keith’s “Yeah okay!” and saw him reaching a hand over out of the corner of his eye.

A bolt of panic struck him moments before the sensation did, shooting up his leg like electricity. “NO! Keheheheheith plehehehease! Shitshitshihihihihit!” Scrags reached out for Keith’s hand, intent on prying it off, but was swiftly thwarted by Esther taking the opportunity to dig into the topmost of his ribs and his arms slammed back down with a screech.

“ESTHER WHY?!” Was all he managed to get out before succumbing to helpless laughter, head thrown back and hair spilling over the seat.

“I had to make sure that you didn’t accidentally fuck with the wheel,” They explained as though they weren’t currently reducing him to near tears, “Keith is still driving, you know.”

Nothing other than half-babbled pleas escape him for a moment because Esther may be right, but that doesn’t mean that Scrags has to be happy about it.

Then, Keith decides to try one of his old “magic tricks” as he used to call them and crack an egg on Scrags’ knee. He used to do it all the time when they were kids because every time without fail, Scrags would lose his shit.

It seems as though nothing’s changed except for the fact that, now, Scrags can’t get away and Keith just keeps fucking going.

Suddenly, he remembers what got him into this situation in the first place and folds like wet paper. “OKAY! OKAHAHAHAY I gihihihihihive! I’ll pick your stuhuhuhupid lock just lemme gohohohoho!”

The hands attacking him vanish in an instant and Scrags is left to catch his breath amidst the cheers, leaning against the door for support despite having been sitting the whole time. Keith pats his leg at the same time Esther ruffles his hair and Scrags jumps before melting into the affection to a few lighthearted coos.

“See? That wasn’t so hard!” Esther quips, then “Hey Gwen, send me that video when you get a chance, okay? I’ll need it for the next time Scrags tries to back out of a patented Solve It Squad plan.”

Scrags’ groan was mostly for show, and wasn’t very convincing either way because of the smile still plastered across his face.

He settled back in his seat, a bit more relaxed than before as he surveyed his team. Keith was humming along to the song playing on the radio, his fingers drumming contentedly as he watched the road. Esther and Gwen were watching what Scrags could only assume was the video Gwen had just taken, laughing and pushing each other playfully.

A long sigh escaped him as he gazed out the window, letting the sun’s warmth wash over him and basking in the comfort that being with his family brought him.

Wow. There really are no other idiots I would rather break the law for.

[p2ep]

act 3 of the fontaine archon quest is making me go insane with how dog ass shit terrible boring it is. aside from g*nshin's usual shit writing this seems rather intentionally offensive given the current climate.

so this story line involves the player (willingly) getting sent to privately owned for-profit prison so they can rescue someone who was sent there wrongly(?) because this country's automated justice machine said so. this country has an automated justice machine that made the ruling btw. not what im mad about in this post i just wanted to mention that because this nation is in shambles tbh. my theory is that they have the previous hydro archon in there cabinet man style. anyways. so there's the for profit prison. before you go the person arranging this for the traveler mentions that we should take a nice bath and eat a nice meal before we head there cause it's going to suck.

HE WAS RIGHT. THIS PLACE FUCKING BLOWS.

after the traveler gets there we are treated to some history about this place. all of fontaine's laws regarding the punishment of criminals state that the offender is to be "exiled", and allegedly a bunch of exiles created this settlement that eventually BECAME the prison, and the state just started sending guards there to "protect" the prisoner- i mean Exiles. this explanation really makes no sense on account of this entire structure being very obviously a prison factory and not a settlement free people would make. but whatever. everyone in the story treats this backstory as good 👍 and true 👍

we also get an explanation of the general culture here. instead of money everyone uses "coupons", a form of currency you get from prison labor. all of the npc's seem fucking brainwashed. "isn't this such a good system, it's a cool place where everyone is on equal footing and everyone can pull themselves up regardless of status :)" insane individualism going on here.

another big part of this place's culture is the fact that everyone is constantly deepthroating the warden's entire dick and balls. constantly. EVERYONE loves it here! isn't this place so nice? the warden is SO cool after he came into power we get ONE free meal a day!!!! YAY!!!!!

i can't fucking stand this ^. every human being deserves life, calling people who can't or won't work in a PRISON for SCRIP "no-good slackers" is fucking disgusting.

i cannot stress how the game CONSTANTLY tries to pretend that this place is cool and normal. we're helping people get their lives back on track! (there are NO amenities in this prison besides a FIGHTING RING. no library no gym no NOTHINGGG) the warden treats us so well! (he shows up every now and then to tell you to get back to work) everyone is equal here since mora isn't used! (classic bootstrap shit) (what are these people supposed to do when they get out? since they have NO MORA. since you pay them in "coupons").

a smaller gripe i have is that this prison has ONE nurse and she's portrayed as constantly overworked and its treated as a wacky quirky joke or something instead of bizarre? i'm not like crazy mad though because this is just strange and not really applicable to the many wider ideological issues with this place. also i hate the fact that they made her some kind of human-melusine hybrid with no explanation it's fucking weird. fuck this place and fuck you s*gewine i would hate you less if you were a SLUG.

you spend like, 3 hours of your own human life in this prison watching the traveler do manual labor and listening to paimon go on and on about how nice this place is.

i have not finished this quest yet but i have Seen a bit of it and when you're about to leave p*imon says ":(i love it here we get a free meal" or whatever. what the fuck.

i just. this is a privately owned prison where people are forced to work in a factory to build police robots and aren't compensated with money. it's a good thing :) we LOVE prison :) slave labor is cool :) I HATE IT HERE I MISS F*RINA AND NEUVIVI AND L*YNEY wait LYNEY WAS HERE BUT THE GAME JUST ASSUMES YOU HATE HIM BECAUSE HE'S FROM THE FATUI but that's a matter for another post

g*nshin fans will be like my manager 😍😍😍😍😍

[demonsfate]

anonymous sent . . .

I don't blame you for not going on r/Tekken anymore. that place just really does have an agenda against jin kazama. like what the fuck do they want? i keep seeing them say they're okay with jin being a villain in tekken 6 because he was a "boring generic anime edgelord emo", but then they also say he should be punished and xiaoyu should kill him then leave him for some other guy like claudio/hwoarang/steve. like they can acknowledge that kazuya was put in a bad light to make heihachi look good but not jin?! do they want miguel to kill someone he cares about (hwoarang and xiaoyu)? what do they want? the internet can mostly acknowledge when characters are ooc (ex. captain america saying hail hydra) but not jin. if jin was an evil smug arrogant narcisstic asshole with a large ego like the rest of his family then that would be boring as fuck (and also beg the question of what was the point of replacing their precious kazuya mishima back in tekken 3 if it's just another evil mishima). like all tekken fans seem to want is some fifty shades of grey romance between kazuya and jun or some edgy groundbreaking villain protag story like megamind starring kazuya. sometimes i think about how things would've been if tekken 6 scenario campaign never happened, or what if the fans got what they wanted and actually have miguel kill jin. then at least maybe i'll finally get to look at jin kazama stuff without seeing people unironically compare jin to h*tler or p*tin. that redditor sadly isn't the only person who compared jin to h*tler. my sister is a rabid narusasu/sasuke uchiha fangirl who hates seeing people compare her precious man sasuke to a character she doesn't like. she constantly keeps calling jin "h*tler kazama" whenever i played tekken and cheered when i won against him. she says "jin never suffered what sasuke suffered. when sasuke was only 7 he lost his whole family and got abused/tortured by his brother. kazuya also had a rough childhood, jin got to have a happy life for 15 years. jin's trauma is that he lost his mom who isn't even dead, that's not real trauma like sasuke and kazuya". she even prayed at church and wished upon a shooting star for jin's va isshin chiba to get terminal cancer and die (then again it's not just jin's va she also got angry at jun esaka and chie nakamura because sakura haruno is a "whiny crybaby useless pink banshee who got in the way of narusasu". she used to want both chie nakamura and jun esaka to die too). jin isn't even my favorite character in the series, but it's insane that so many people in this fanbase have such malice towards him over one fucking game where he was ooc as fuck (and street fighter x tekken too i guess...at least other non-canon crossovers like project x zone don't potray him like this). that'd be like captain america being hated forever over one comic book where he was ooc and the people at marvel even admit it. seriously, when will tekken fandom ever stop just being so fucking weird with jin kazama i'm at my limit.

sorry if i got too emotional there, i just had to let my thoughts out now. i hope you have a good day.

sorry for taking a while to respond to this! but you definitely know some wild people in your life haha (including your sister, no offense!) it kinda reminds me of how people used to act when i was a kid. when i was a kid, i was in a lotta spaces with other kids that acted just absolutely wild about their favorite characters and ships just like this. buuuut... granted, we were all like 10 years old lol. luckily i don't really run into people like this anymore. (the rabid fans that go beyond obsessive hating) most of the time, i just see the annoying ppl who are like "JIN IS A BAD CHARACTER. JIN IS A WAR CRIMINAL. KAZUYA SHOULD BE MAIN CHARACTER" - type of folk. annoying people, but not quite concerning, y'know?

but yeah, i surprisingly see a lotta people who say tek6 made jin a better character. which is usually thanks to the crowd who don't like "good characters" ... which tbh, it seems like more ppl nowadays are averse to heroic characters than they used to be? nowadays people want characters to be more morally questionable. which as i've stated before... it just gets boring if every character has to be like that. plus, even if jin WAS a genuinely terrible character before tek6, it's not like tek6 would've improved him. how does, essentially, being a copy of kazuya's character makes him any better? it doesn't. it still has the problem of him being unoriginal and boring because we already have a character like that.

i think what they wanted was just for jin to be completely condemned or for kazuya to have been the "true good guy" lol. at least, that's what i got from reading those old reddit posts prior 8's release. which as i said, is silly because kazuya is just as bad - err, arguably worse than jin was. given that both are doing the exact same shit, it's just that jin was to save the world supposedly meanwhile kazuya is just... because he wants power lol.

and yeah, i always found that funny. i find it funny how people can acknowledge steve rogers or luke skywalker being written ooc in stories that have smeared their characters to make them "flawed" or straight up villainous for no good reason. but like... people can't do that with jin when it comes to tek6? ofc, the sw and marvel crowds are completely different people - but my point is, why can't the tek fandom recognize what jin's character used to be?

ffs, i once pointed out that jin saying "strength isn't everything" isn't actually character development because of the way his character is handled, and everyone disagreed with me on that lol. it's like if mario says "i must save'a the princess!" in every game, but then in one game, he's suddenly like "PRINCESS PEACH CAN GO EAT SHIT AND DIE" but then in another game, he returns to saying "i must save'a the princess!" that's not... that's not real character development, it's just writing the character accurately again. ESPECIALLY when there's no explanation at all as to why mario wanted peach to die, and then there's no explanation for when he suddenly returns to wanting to save her.

but yes, i'm totally with you. i just wish that people would stop being so fucking weird about jin. but like you said, i don't really visit r/tek anymore, i don't really interact with the fandom at all beyond the people i talk to on this blog. i don't go actively searching through tags. sometimes i'll find content on twitter, but that's only because i visit it for tek news. other than that? yeahhh... it's just a place that's best to stay away from lol.

also i'm just gonna say, IF kazuya gets redeemed, the fandom BETTER give him the same energy as they do to jin. they better give him the "BUT HE SHOULDN'T BE REDEEMED?!" and make nonstop jokes about him being a war criminal who can now for some reason be a good guy. but... we'll likely not see that as much. given there was an alarming amount of ppl who thought kazuya was more worthy to be the good guy than jin was lol.

and yeah, i also wish tek6's scenario campaign never happened. errr... at the very least, i wished it went a completely different way without ruining jin's character.

[hopeymchope]

re: toxic fanbases. I'm not good at telling what fanbases are toxic. I'm both a doormat ("that rando who started yelling at me all of a sudden probably has a good reason and I'm dumb for not seeing it 👍") and a weirdo who tends to stay within very small circles. With Danganronpa, I feel like there's *something* that makes it a little jarring compared to other communities, although it's by far not the worst community I've personally interacted with.

Its popularity definitely plays a massive role; it's actually impressive to see how active Danganronpa circles remain after all this time, but the downside is that there's a lot of brainrot, distant memories, and most importantly people who've been involved with it for WAY too long. I myself have definitely grown horribly bored of having the same tired debates be brought up time and time again - I can imagine people with a different personality from mine getting very upset over that.

Though I don't feel a connection to that aspect at this time, the prevalent young fanbase also comes with its qualities and flaws.

I could go on, because this community is so large and so old that it's genuinely, like I already mentioned, jarring at times. I'll turn my back from being told DRAE is irredeemable media because it uses dark humour to see someone draw a Komaru with giant tits requesting coitus. There are times when interacting with Danganronpa fans has made me wish I'd just never known about Danganronpa at all, so all things considered, even if I can't put words on it, there's a strong negative aspect to it.

At the same time, I don't know how it being Danganronpa specifically relates to some negative experiences I had - was some of the abuse I endured as a Wiki admin related to the way the DR fandom is? Or did it have to do with Wikis more than it did with DR, with French users more than it did DR? Maybe the problem is that this series has given so many of us such intense brainrot and we can't stop getting involved with it.

Sorry if this long ask is annoying in any way - I figured you might be interested in exploring the conversation around how the DR fandom might come across as toxic, objectively or subjectively OTL

One thing I remember for sure is that when I posted Akudama Drive LGBTQ headcanons, I felt perfectly fine and happy about it - but when I decided to post my Danganronpa headcanons too, I had a strong feeling that I was taking a risk, however small. That's not a very nice feeling to get as an adult who's just trying to be a little happy and silly with PNGs.

Oh, I don't mind a long ask at all! I'm grateful for the detailed thought you put into this, honestly. :) I'm a pretty wordy person myself — you may have noticed.

I think a lot of what you're describing as negatives within the DR community are unfortunate constants with fandoms of ANY popular media these days. Not ALL of it, but....

Every piece of media is gonna be declared irredeemable/offensive/problematic by some parties now if it delves into any kind of darkness or deals with any kind of major crimes, it seems like I've seen more than one person online state — with a straight face, mind you — stuff like "Danganronpa is toxic AF, many of those characters are LITERALLY murderers" and I'm just over here thinking are you fucking serious? I don't remember seeing people say stuff like this in my fandom circles before 2019 or so, but I see it everywhere now. It seems to have grown more prevalent since the 2020s hit? There are people who just can't stand to deal with any moral grayness, any dark theming, etc — and they don't think anyone else should allowed to enjoy that stuff either. (Now I'm wondering whether there are people similarly dismissing Akudama Drive. Much smaller fandom, so maybe you don't see that. But I can imagine someone grumbling "These characters are LITERALLY criminals, wtf." LOL)

We all know Internet Rule 34, but I feel like there are certain built-in multipliers to it that increase how widespread it is. Animated media? That's a multiplier that will cause even MORE porn to exist. Japanese media? That's another multiplier. Which means there's tons of porn of DR characters — even for the teen characters that're underage in most countries like Komaru. At least I've never stumbled across porn of the small children like the Warriors of Hope, THANK FUCKING GOD. I sadly don't doubt that it exists, but I hope to god it remains in a dark corner, out of my goddamn sight.

And I definitely feel much, MUCH more afraid to say anything about LGBTQ headcanons for popular media than I do for relatively small fandoms. Maybe that's partly symptomatic of being American in an era where tolerance and acceptance of LGBTQ people is sliding horiffically backwards? At least I think I'm safter to share such things on Tumblr than I would be on Reddit. I'd be afraid to talk about my personal DR LGBTQ headcanons, too. I've even drafted a post about that once and then been like "You know what? No. I'm not opening myself up to abuse for this," leading me to delete it. I've done similarly for the Madoka Magica fandom as well... too active, too big = too likely to result in blowback. I believe Akudama Drive is a pretty small fandom, though, so it makes sense to me why that'd feel like a more comfortable place to talk LGBTQ concepts.

But with all of that said, I can't claim that the infighting over interpretations of characters and events that I see on the DR Wiki is something that every fandom deals with. Maybe some of them do; honestly, Fandom Wikis weren't really so huge a thing before I got deep into DR in the back half of the 2010s, and I haven't really gotten involved with any of the Fandom Wikis I've come across afterwards either. So I don't know for sure! But it seems like that could be uniquely unpleasant about the DR fandom — the way people define "canon" as a matter of personal interpretation.

Since I'm stuck on the English side of the DR Wiki, I'm not certain whether you deal with the same stuff in the French incarnation. Characters like Komaeda and Ouma are especially difficult to police — they have so many fans who think they are pure of heart, and so many fans who find them loathesomely manipulate, and you can't necessarily be certain what about them is true or false. Put all that together, and it's hard to keep things to "Just The Facts" when people fundamentally disagree on what the facts ARE, which can lead to a lot of infighting among the people editing the thing! God... even deciphering the truth about what's going on in V3 and determining how we should or shouldn't explain that haziness is an awfully sticky wicket all by itself.

[grislyintentions]

Commentary & Spoilers on the Myriad Celestia Trailer: The Jepella Rebellion

Observations + Headcanons: 1) Kafka excels in becoming the bait/lure/distraction for authorities looking to apprehend the Stellaron Hunters, hence she is the one that is 'captured' more often. This is likely due to her ability to subtly inflict spirit whisper on them and sow discord among them, turning some into her accomplices, some into her puppets and some into her 'hands'. She demolishes their system from within whilst the other hunters focus on different areas.

2) Sam was hinted to be an automaton-like figure in Blade's character story 3. This is now seemingly confirmed within the trailer. Additionally, his build appears to be a lot more sophisticated compared to Svarog's. It may be due to them being created for different purposes in mind: Svarog for security and safeguarding, Sam for offensive/defensive power and flexible utilities.

3) The total number of criminal cases the Stellaron Hunters are accused of seem rather low but considering the devastation they cause each time, they are befitting of their title as international fugitives. Based on their compatibility and ease of working together, regardless of the pairing, it can be implied that they are responsible for more disasters than what have already been discovered. We can also, inversely, theorise that the number of cases they were responsible fall reflect just how many stellarons they have acquired.

4) Kafka's voice actresses all excel in portraying the sinister nature of her personality. However, there are subtle differences in their choices as well. For reference: English VA's rendition focuses heavily on her calculating and sly femme fatale nature, creating an alluring draw. Chinese VA's rendition centers around her 'sweetness' and the juxtaposition of her casual cruelty so the version of Kafka there is gentler in tone, but just as viciously deceptive.

Commentary: -Given her personality, Kafka not being an Emanator of Destruction is something people definitely should be grateful for. There's no denying the potential that she has if she did become one. However, she is inherently incompatible.

With reference to Phantylia's comments, it seems that all the Lord Ravagers follow their own philosophy pertaining to Destruction. Kafka, on the other end, holds no such consistent beliefs. To her, destruction is but a means to an end. A byproduct and most times a necessary component in achieving the results she wants.

It is not what satisfies her. Neither is it something she is fixated with. Though she does appreciate the nature of it eg: Lamenting over how she did not get to see just how far her home planet fell under the influence of a stellaron etc. In fact, if destruction is always the same end result, she is likely to grow bored.

-The Stellaron Hunters are each experienced enough to work on their own. However, what is also interesting is that no matter who their team member is for their current mission, they can adjust and work well with the other. At a glance, Kafka is usually paired with Blade and Sam if their missions require someone to buy her time and keep her guarded from interference/attack from outside forces. With Silver Wolf however, Kafka then becomes the distraction so that the hacker can infiltrate systems and hijack whatever is necessary. Hence, they function well in stealth missions together.

Sam and Silver Wolf would also make for ideal partners since technological advances and reality editing are two areas that could achieve groundbreaking results. With Sam around, Silver Wolf can easily tamper with things and boost his capabilities endlessly with her buffs.

Also, Not to be conceited but I'm glad I got the way she enjoys playing mind-games and her blasé attitude over causing widespread suffering right. It's the mf timing of the trailer dropping a day after the thinkpiece excerpt I wrote sOBS.

@celestial-narwhal , @everlastiingiimmortals , @shining-gem34 , @memovia [I humbly present some kafka crumbs for my pals. ;w; <3]

[sheepinthebigcity]

okay fine. ALL OF THEM. GO.

YOU'RE INSANE (am i even in that many fandoms)

the character everyone gets wrong

mad ducktor. enough said

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

i'm presuming they meant dom or sub in this regard anyway i feel like all my faves are like lame ass switches and honestly i am SO tired of seeing them as always dom. boring behavior.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

honestly i'm just tired of seeing takes in 2023 about my girl faves and how they're annoying and get in the way of either yaoi ships or selfships...

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

not to go back into ducks again but i remember when the animaniacs reboot dropped i made a mutual with this super annoying person on twitter who kept talking about yakko warner and milk and about a week later an acquaintance of mine asked me how long i knew them and then said "we think that your new mutual is cannedtins"

5. worst discord server and why

im not in bad discord servers im normal 0:-)

i do have a lot of osc and em servers muted tho <:-D

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

a looooooot of shippers are annoying LOL. as far as not freak ships go, i sure do have a lot of hate in my heart for fenro... but are fenro fans annoying.... idk. i curate myself a lot.

WAIT NO JOIKE GOD THOSE GUYS ARE SO ANNOYING

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

i CANT just say mad ducktor again.... but honestly? 4 and X bfdi.....

9. worst part of canon

closing time being canon to catch 22

10. worst part of fanon

i hate when fanon unanimously agrees on a gender and sexuality headcanon for a character especially when it's one i relate to and i could make their gender and sexuality so so so so much weirder...

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

at least a dozen? i dont like a lot of popular fandoms.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

i feel like all my unpopular faves are unpopular for good reason. i may not like the reason but im alone in my happiness.

anyway fanny bfb you should like her because she has a rough exterior and a soft interior.

13. worst blorboficiation

the guys from one but i dont mind too much because it's one.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

i see a lot of x reader shit and it always feels like every reader is like. the same 19 year old girl. and man we're different in every way.

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

cat ears

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

honestly i guess i get it bc they're both protags but spifan... it's kind of... BORING to me! no offense to ppl who do like it but i find myself more into prufan and pacome x zorglub....

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

sheep in the big city fic and art that doesn't suck

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

honestly i'm in so many fandoms where there's a hero x villain old man ship and in SO MANY OF THEM it is ignored.... SAD!

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

let's just say there's a certain ship that goes against so many of my principles and yet i've shipped it for over a decade and got good friends to ship it too and leaf it there

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

whatever the hell fireafy was doing in nubfb

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

clive dove professor layton. unwound future has better aspects

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

i think ppl should pay more attention to misa in death note

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

i used to hate mei x red son from monkie kid and now it's my top otp LOL

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

"stop watching kid shows" these ppl aren't watching kid shows they are JUST watching owl house if they were wathcing kid shows i'd have someone to talk about rocketeer 2019 with

[joycewagner]

She knows what to expect when approaching an officer of the law - especially a higher-ranking one, so Joyce steels herself appropriately and waits, sipping her wine as he continues to speak. It's all information that she's heard before, but the way he says it - a challenge, maybe? Perhaps, simply speaking his mind. She doesn't take offense to the way his voice forms around the words a bit harsher than most. Politics are a passionate subject even in the smallest of circles. It's only fair that they're passionate when it comes to livelihood.

Funding, however, is her entire platform. Without correct cuts and allocations, the city will fall into ruin. It has fallen, if rumors and papers are to be believed. Criminals roaming the streets, attacks, protests, suspicious deaths. She sips once more at her glass.

"It's not a bore, Deputy. After all, I did start the conversation, did I not?" She's not here to argue with the man, either. Already, though, she's thinking of prospects to decrease funding to certain departments - libraries aren't exactly thriving these days, are they? And the NYPD has more than enough to allocate into both control and allocating resources properly. A little more to help them with these basic living needs, couldn't hurt. "But I understand your plight. You wish to help, just like the best of us. There's only so much you can do within confines of the law and ahem, monetary support."

She nods, just once. "It's something for me to keep in mind, but - State politics, once I'm elected, will ultimately be up to the state itself." Small federal government, after all. "I have plenty of ideas for the country as a whole, in terms of these flaws. Laws and such that could help endanger your officers less, actually help the people of the city."

She can't help the shark-like smile that slides over her features. "Our lovely governor and mayor should listen to you and take what you say to heart."

All smiles and professionalisms fall into place when Emilio's gaze snaps to Joyce — it's as though he's spotted a mark. Only this one, he knows to try keep on the good side of. A presidential candidate up his ass, is the last thing he needs. Emilio's heard plenty rumours about Wagner.

She and Julian really were the rival King and Queen of the political kingdoms.

Emilio's a loyal subject — tonight, especially.

"Mrs. Wagner," He greets. immediately feeling obligated to take the glass she's offering him. Senators could be more dangerous than a criminals, and sometimes — they were one and the same. Emilio's the rougher side of the Halliday-Carrasco ops. Good cop, bad cop — and all those cliches that mean Emilio's still got some sharpening of his public speech skills to do.

He's not sure if he can make an offhanded remark with Joyce, but he does it regardless: "The stats can be found online these days, senator." For the people, Emilio knows. But as for cracking down on it — he's not sure if she's entirely aware of the funding, operations, and shortages of officers in the current climate.

"—And I hope your husband hears all good things in those papers," Emilio dreads to think. He learned to avoid reading the articles in full, unless Halliday drops it on his desk. Which then, he does.

Sipping the drink, he swallows: "Hooliganism, whilst can be criminal, is not everything." A jest, it falls short; he knows it when he's said it. Criminals, is always the word he'll use. But that's probably politically incorrect of him. "I'd like — in the future, to redirect some attentions—" if and when we have the resources. "— to basic living needs. Officers being called out to crimes that could have easily been avoided." It's not a dig, but it is announcing that it's out of his jurisdiction. But it's within Joyce's. "It costs the city countless zeros, it wastes resources and it endangers my officers needlessly. You want the force to cut your crime rate every year, help them out with cleaning up the other flaws in the city."

It comes across sharp, and maybe it is — but, she asked.

Annoyingly — he thinks of Takeda in this moment, because toe to toe with her as of late, happened to be on cases that Emilio knows test the sometimes flawed system Emilio prides on. It isn't an excuse, it never is. But, removing those excuses entirely, that isn't impossible. Homelessness, employment, medical care... the list goes on.

"As you know," An assumption, he doesn't know if she does. "A lot of crime would be eradicated, if those with basic living needs were fulfilled. That's always where I try to start. Prioritise our team. Whilst also—" he laughs, trying to butter instead of slice: "—catching the rest of the hooligans..." Another sip and —

"I wish not to bore you with things, senator. I'm sure you have some brilliant ideas for the city, no?"

[robininthelabyrinth]

eeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Would be awesome if you continued the nmj&wwx sworn brothers fic! I'm not good at giving plot prompts, but I really would just love to see your take on nmj's character, and how he would interact with wwx. I found it interesting that wwx in the untamed was really respectful of nmj when they met, not like how he was in Cloud Recesses. I wanted to see more of how they might interact if they had closer relationship. (Of course also hoping that changes things for the better!)

sequel to this

Wei Wuxian hated to admit it, but being Nie Mingjue’s sworn brother made a world of difference.

People looked him in the eye now, no matter what sort of atrocities were ascribed to him; there was still fear in their gazes, but now it was more like respect – and even more like confidence. He hadn’t realized how many people looked at him as a child, lashing out wildly in all directions, maddened like a rabid dog in his search for vengeance, nor how relieved they would be to know that his sins could be answered for by someone universally viewed as capable enough to keep him down.

It wasn’t just that most people would put money on Baxia against just about everything else – Wei Wuxian counted himself among that crowd – but also, just…Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue was a stern man, short in both temper and speech, but he was straightforward and decisive. He had listened to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng lay out the benefits of their position, taken an evening to consider, and accepted promptly the next morning; the ceremony had been held at a convenient moment a few days after that, and then he’d invited them both to dinner – Wei Wuxian, as his new brother, and Jiang Cheng as the brother of his brother.

At first, Wei Wuxian couldn’t quite put his finger on what changed after that – it was similar to the way Nie Mingjue had treated them both before, when he was their general and they his lieutenants, but also significantly different. He was still harsh, still fiercely opinionated, still straightforward as ever, as generous in words of discipline as he was sparse in words of praise; was it only that his eyes were softer? That he sometimes felt free to put his hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder? That he listened to him, was open to interruptions no matter what time of day or night, asked him for meaningless favors and did them for him in return?

“It almost reminds me of shijie,” Wei Wuxian told Jiang Cheng. “If she were as tall and strong as a bear, and a lot more willing to correct me…almost like Madame Yu, but not as bitter. Yet there’s something of Uncle Jiang there as well: he trusts me to do things, but he’s also there to keep an eye on it – not in an offensive way, you know? Just there in case something goes wrong…it’s very reassuring, somehow. Like having a mountain at your back, keeping you steady.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jiang Cheng said. “All that – you’re just saying he’s acting like he’s your big brother.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him.

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks were red and his eyes averted. “Don’t you know you’re just the same to me?” he muttered, and shoved Wei Wuxian’s shoulder briefly before fleeing, and Wei Wuxian felt a glow of warmth that filled his entire body from head to toe that kept him floating through the next week.

He’s never had a da-ge before, which was probably why he was so slow on the uptake. Nie Mingjue doesn’t so much as blink an eye when Wei Wuxian started calling him that – warily at first, like a bit of mischief that he could play off as a joke if he was rejected, and then quickly enough with confidence, smug and arrogant the way he’d been before the war started, when he’d still had the Jiang sect to hold up the sky for him no matter what he did.

After all, who would dare get in his face with Chifeng-zun at his back?

Nie Huaisang’s frivolity suddenly made a great deal more sense. He was just spoiled!

-

Jiang Cheng benefited as well, which he wouldn’t have necessarily expected but perhaps should have. Wei Wuxian came across them talking, late one night, and sits in a tree to listen the quiet stories they shared – the burden of being Sect Leader, of needing to honor one’s ancestors and keep their traditions alive while also preserving the lives that had been entrusted to them in this lifetime; the crushing emptiness of realizing that the task for which your entire life has been a preparation had suddenly arrived and there was no one else for it but you; the need for vengeance against those who had robbed you of your parents and childhood all in one go.

Even the struggles Wei Wuxian hadn’t known anything about: the lack of respect from elders who thought they knew better because they still saw you as a child, the need to play politics with small sect leaders eager to take advantage of weakness now to benefit later, the isolating realization that almost everyone you met wanted something from you.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said to Nie Mingjue, after, his face solemn in a way it rarely was. “He’s holding up a corner of the world, all by himself, and I didn’t know how to help him.”

Nie Mingjue nodded; he didn’t shrug things off the way Wei Wuxian did, always took things that were meant to be serious as seriously – it had been such a shock when Lan Xichen had mentioned off-handedly that he was only seven years older than they were; he’d been Sect Leader for as long as Wei Wuxian could remember. If someone told Wei Wuxian that Nie Mingjue had been carved from stone rather than born, he would have believed it, excepting only that his heart could not have been stone.

“It’s something I can do, so I did,” he said, meaning that it was nothing when it was everything. “Perhaps one day you’ll tell me what it is that I can do for you.”

Caught, Wei Wuxian gaped, then tried to turn it into a joke, but Nie Mingjue just patted him on the shoulder and went his own way.

He never pressed, never asked, just accepted things as they were. As long as Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation was used for righteousness and killing Wens, Nie Mingjue would let him keep any other secrets he might have, pursue any aims, let him do as he liked.

And yet it was that permissiveness that led Wei Wuxian to start to wonder if maybe he should tell Nie Mignjue what he’d done, the choices he’d make, the sacrifices – he didn’t think Nie Mingjue would judge him harshly for it. He might even understand it, especially when the only thing that made the man smile were Nie Huaisang’s occasional letters complaining about having to do all the paperwork back at the Unclean Realm where he was safe.

He still wasn’t sure, though, so he didn’t, holding himself back, and then one evening not long after he had finished forging the Stygian Tiger seal – Jiang Cheng had banished him to Nie Mingjue’s side at once upon realizing the appalling power of it, knowing as well as Wei Wuxian did that the cultivation world would be terrified if they didn’t believe it was firmly under control – Nie Mingjue told him about how his father had died. Not the part that everyone knew, his saber sabotaged, broken during a night hunt, the spiritual effect rebounding on him to drive him six months later into a qi deviation long before his time; but why the sabers were so important to the Nie clan.

The foremost mission of the Qinghe Nie was to suppress evil wherever they found it: to uphold justice and abhor that which stood against it, to strike fearlessly against it no matter what they faced, whether wind or lightning. But such a mission required blood to be spilled, blood and blood again – like the executioner who took upon himself the duty of sending criminals onwards, allowing the rest of the community to sleep untroubled, those who took on such a duty invariably became targets of resentful energy, the final vengeance of the evil they slaughtered to save the innocent.

Invariably, there were times – times of war, as there was now – when it was necessary to wield violence in pursuit of righteousness. For the Nie, unlike other sects, violence was a virtue, and it could not be purged through a retreat from the world, the application of countless treasures and cleansing rituals inaccessible to most; their philosophy did not allow them to close their eyes and ears to injustice.

And so they did not rest. They killed in the name of justice and righteousness, killed and killed again; they cultivated their sabers as spiritual weapons, letting them absorb the resentful energy from beasts and monsters in order to better defeat evil that other sects could not, and at last cultivated the saber spirits, rich in resentful energy of their own but devoted only to defeating evil. The saber spirits were nourished by the cultivation of their chosen master, their resentful energy filtered and cleansed and purified, but that process was a burden, sparking the infamously short tempers of the Nie clan, with both temper and saber spirit held tightly in check only by their iron discipline.

The Nie sect leaders, who bore on their shoulders not only their own karma but that of those who followed them – their lives were a sacrifice, always balanced on the edge of a blade: the need to always control the saber spirit, to appease it and tame it, made them more susceptible than most to qi deviation, and absent one of them breaking the seal of cultivation or some accident, that would be how they would die.

Wei Wuxian touched the Stygian Tiger seal, hidden beneath his clothing in its two halves: he’d only used it once so far, causing a gigantic massacre that had taken down an army nearly entirely on his own. As soon as that had finished, he’d known that the seal was too much for him, even after he’d broken it in two to weaken it – it obeyed any master that would have it, so full of resentful energy that it needed only the barest excuse to break free to kill without discrimination. His demonic cultivation used resentful energy the way a Nie saber spirit did, his soul directly exposed to human evil, not merely animal; he risked possession, corruption, or worse, and only his skill and his determination was enough to control it – that he’d thought was enough to control it, until he’d made the seal.

The seal pulsed angrily under his hand, seething with resentment, hungry for blood, and then unexpectedly there was a response: Baxia, held in Nie Mingjue’s hands to be sharpened, gave a pulse as well, fierce and unyielding spiritual energy rippling out from it like a rock dropped into a lake, and for the first time the seal went quiet, as if momentarily cowed.

“Has my cultivation affected my temperament?” Wei Wuxian asked, considering the possibility seriously for the first time. Lan Wangji had told him several times that demonic cultivation harmed both the body and the heart, but he’d disregarded it – he felt fine, he didn’t frenzy; so what if he was angry? Wouldn’t anyone be, after suffering as he had? How could Lan Wangji ever understand?

(If Wei Wuxian thought about it too long, he might think that Lan Wangji would understand, could understand, did, but that thought was too painful to tolerate. In his heart, he still hoped that Lan Wangji would live untouched by the pain of the world, even if he knew that it was far too late for that.)

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said simply, and his unshakable simplicity was more troubling than a thousand of Lan Wangji’s pleas. “My Nie clan sacrifices the second half of our lives for the power to make a difference in the first; I find that trade worthwhile, but it is all for nothing if we do not control ourselves. That it is easier for us to become monsters is all the more reason for us to always put righteousness first, personal interest second; our instincts will lie to us, inflame us, and we must be unyielding and strict, trusting in tradition and law to guide us where our instincts will fail us. If you persist in your path, you will need be twice as cautious as you were before: quicker to anger is quicker to act – but once the act is done, it cannot be taken back. Whether that is a sacrifice you are willing to make remains up to you.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath caught in his throat like a sob.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he’d tell Nie Mingjue everything, and get his advice on what to do.

-

That night, they received word of a temporary gap in the Wens’ defenses in Yangquan, an opportunity to destroy one of their stockpile while the guard was changing; the source of the information was Lan Xichen, who they all trusted. The opportunity was limited by time and the need for secrecy: Nie Mingjue took a small detachment of Nie cultivators to launch a night attack, with Wei Wuxian following at a distance to capture anyone who ran into the forest to escape Nie blades.

He waited patiently in a tree, Chenqing spinning idly in his hands, his mind more than halfway thinking of ways to refine the compass of evil he’d been working on; he wouldn’t let them escape.

He waited, but nothing happened.

No one came running.

The Stygian Tiger Seal abruptly pulsed again, suddenly active in a way it hadn’t been since Baxia had suppressed it, and a pit formed in Wei Wuxian’s stomach. He stood up at once and abandoned his position, rushing forward – and yet he was still too late.

Yangquan was a trap. Wen Ruohan himself had been there, with all his most trusted soldiers, vastly outnumbering Nie Mingjue’s small force; they had been easily overwhelmed.

Watching from a tree not far from the brightly lit center camp, Wei Wuxian bit his fingers until they bled to keep from screaming: he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he had to do this again, to stand by as a mute witness while the Wen-dogs laughed triumphantly over the bodies of those he knew and loved. The Stygian Tiger Seal was hot under his clothing, resentful, wanting to kill, and he wanted to use it – but the first time had come so desperately close to going out of his control that he didn’t know if he could risk it.

What if he lost control? What if he killed those he wanted to save?

Wei Wuxian was accustomed to arrogance, to confidence, to recklessness even – but Nie Mingjue’s warning was so fresh in his ears that for what might be the first time in his life, he wavered, hesitated.

He had just about decided that he would use the seal, and damn the consequences, when someone in the Wen sect dragged Nie Mingjue forward: he had been very badly beaten, his body twisted in unnatural ways and his head cut open, blood blinding him and Baxia nowhere in sight, but against all odds he was still standing – it was almost a desecration in Wei Wuxian’s eyes to see the Wen cultivators put their hands on him the way they had put their hands on Uncle Jiang, on Madame Yu, on all those Jiang cultivators he’d lost at the Lotus Pier.

The way they had hurt Jiang Cheng, so badly that it still haunted his shidi’s nightmares, a hurt so bad that the only way out was for Wei Wuxian to –

He couldn’t let it happen again.

He didn’t have another golden core to sacrifice. If they were going to execute Nie Mingjue right now, in front of him, he would –

“Take them all back to the Nightless City,” someone ordered, instead, and Wei Wuxian’s fingers, which had wrapped around the Stygian Tiger Seal without him noticing, abruptly relaxed in relief. There was still time to make a decision about whether or not to use the seal, or to see if he could rescue Nie Mingjue and the others without it.

The entire troop moved out.

Wei Wuxian followed.

[mychemicalficrecs]

i'm not looking for a specific fic or anything, but do you have anything like high-school frerard things, that are like decently long (like 2000-7000 words)?? any hurt-comfort AUs or stuff like that? i don't care if it's explicit/mature whatever.

Hi Nonny!

I'm not sure if you're looking for High School AUs with Hurt/Comfort or High School AUs or Hurt/Comfort, so I'm just going to link you the related lists I've made before and make a brand new one that has High School AUs that feature Hurt/Comfort! There's not too much of that around so most fics on this list are actually longer than you specified.

Frank/Gerard High School AUsHigh School Frank/Gerard And BullyingFrank/Gerard Hurt/Comfort

Frank/Gerard High School AUs With Hurt/Comfort

drowning in the dark by orphan_account, 26k [WIP], Mature. Gerard Way is falling apart, he's screaming for help but no one can hear him. Not over the screaming shadows, his classmates laughter, the loudness of his music and the static in his head. No one can hear him, no one can see him. Until someone finally lets Gerard hold onto them, and that person stays with him.

Shelter from the Storm by Cainz, 13k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard's life is miserable. Abused at home and bullied at school, that was his daily life. For him it's clear that things aren't going to change, but what happens when a new music teacher comes to school? Will he be able to trust again?

Behind The Scene by xXDeadXx, 2k, Explicit. Please look at the tags for any possible Triggers!! These are all prominent in the story! Stay Safe! Frank Iero has been in an almost year long relationship with Chris Donantello. Everything has been happy and well off, until Chris's darker, abusive, side begins to surface. While the biggest project of the year kicks off in Mr.Urie's Digital Film class, Franks life begins to crumble around him. And the only escape he finds, is his Documentary partner.

I Just Want You To Know Who I Am by mcr_rockstar, momiji_neyuki, 31k, Explicit. Frank stares at his reflection in the mirror. He's trying to pinpoint when his life got so bad. It had to be around the time the most beautiful boy he had ever seen transferred to their school after Thanksgiving break

You Won't Be Alone Tonight by lukesdaydreams, 11k, Explicit. Frank and Gerard were in love, right? Gerard was scared though. Scared that Frank wouldn't want him anymore. So he decided to do something about it.

Stages of grief by galacticghost, 17k, Teen And Up Audiences. When people we held close die, they take parts of us with them.

pity by gothclaudia, 6k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard is a morbidly sad teenager. Frank is a pissed off punk kid. Both have skeletons in the closet. Both are somewhat in the closet. Will they try to fix each other? You bet.

The Man In The Mirror by Wearenotalright, 20k [WIP], Not Rated. Frank is just trying to get by in the world, he's just trying to get by without anyone seeing him. He has a dangerous secret that he wants to keep hidden from the world. Soon Frank's secret slowly gets exposed and he finally finds someone he can let in, the man who owns his favorite book store. The more Frank reveals to the owner, Gerard Way, the more Gerard starts to feel his past rise up. Can Gerard keep cool under pressure or will he break like a fragile mirror?

Open up (we're broken people) by iwanttobelieve, Wellalright_now_off_the_dancefloor, 10k [WIP], General Audiences. Dear Mr. Vernon...we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong.But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care? You see us as you want to see us...in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athelete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning.

Ashamed to Rise and Be by Wolfy_P_Smith, 23k [WIP], Mature. Gerard can feel himself breaking; his life is slowly shattering before him and all he can do is watch. It started out as just verbal abuse, something he could tolerate, if only slightly. But now, the abuse has progressed, and it'll take a real miracle to bring himself back up. Luckily, he has his neighbor's best friend to talk to, Frank. Gerard feels himself involuntarily being pulled towards the confident boy who radiates an "I don't give a shit about life" attitude. And Frank may just be the key to pulling Gerard out of the hole he dug inevitably for himself so many years ago.

After school education by Dark_Angel1976, orphan_account, 3k, Explicit. Gerard is a teaching assistant at Franks school and hes offed to tutor him after school. Frank has a crush on Gerard. What will happen.

A drink for the horror that I'm in by WeCanDoIt, 108k [WIP], Explicit. In which Frank's life is dreadfully boring, even worse than having to listen to a six hour lecture about the gastrulation of a lancelet. And hey, no offense to any biology geeks here; if you get hard-ons from listening to the fantastic wonders of the embryonic development of a fucking fish then nobody will judge you - as long as you don't shove it up his face, thank you very much. So at first Frank didn't really notice the weird new kid floating around the hallways; why should he, when he was too busy drowning in self-pity over his oh-so pathetic life? But when he coincidentally saved him from getting shoved into a locker one day, the guy somehow started to get interesting. And something about his behavior seemed really off. But maybe that was exactly what Frank needed; just a little distraction to get his life interesting again.

[mercuryislove]

@artificialllovers okay so I'm going hog wild answering this question because I'm so tired I'm wired and I'm in the mood to talk about unimportant shit about my characters lol

this is hard to answer because they are both justsomeguys in such different ways lol

Yixing's someguyness is like. he's pretty decent looking but the most exciting thing about his appearance is his long hair and people think he's weird bc he doesn't really speak except to the people he's close to (or to his horse) and he always sits alone and keeps his nose in a book and falls asleep drunk in the weirdest places and has to be That Guy bc he's a vegetarian and like that one time you said he'd be the guy blocking the hard seltzer cooler at target while debating deeply about whether he should get the white claw or try whatever the fuck that topo chico ranch water stuff is. he's just weird but generally bland from an outsider's perspective (but also a little scary because um he wears all black and also people think he's mean or has a temper because he's so standoffish). BUT people that actually know him know that he has a goofy sense of humor and he's kind and often selfless to the point of stupidity and is a great storyteller and cares deeply for all animals and has probably seen better days but doesn't show it and people love to see his name show up on the ledger for a caravan job bc he's gone back and forth across the stupid subcontinent so many times that he doesn't really need a map to guide him and his reputation precedes him and he doesn't realize it but he makes a lot of friends wherever he goes bc he really IS a nice and good person even if he drinks too much and is a little rude and cries himself to sleep like half the time. basically his someguyness is like. complete. he is a mostly average dude who is pretty good at his job and has a few fun special qualities but he isn't Exceptional or whatever. he gets involved in Exceptional Shit by complete accident and it's only bc the people he falls in with happen to be fucking crazy little undying lunatics who hold grudges the likes of which you've never seen. and he takes it all in stride like a champ lmao

MEANWHILE Josef's someguyness is like. to people that don't know what he does, he is a fucking loser. he didn't finish high school, his family disowned him for being outspoken about being gay in a time when it wasn't acceptable (and um in spain a criminal offense), he plays the guitar (poorly), he likes to surf and as such has a constant uneven tan (farmer tan), he's basically a single dad (single uncle?) to his niece that nobody else in the family wanted to look after, he goes on tons of "trips" to undisclosed locations for varying lengths of time so they think he Must be involved in some illegal shit bc he clearly has no employable skills. HOWEVER to people in the know he is a fucking celebrity. phone ringing off the hook constantly bc they want to hire him to kill whatever horrible little supernatural creature is pestering them and it's an honor and a privilege and even a contest to hire him. he's moderately wealthy. he's a prodigy. he got his start when he was 18 after getting like two months of the most basic instruction possible from his boyfriend at the time. he's rumored to have been the sovereign's personal little blood bag at one point (🤫). people beg him for consultations and to study under him and to basically be their live-in hunter/bodyguard/diplomat. he has the highest success rate of any single hunter in the last 600 years and the only person who could ever hope to come close to his record is vera and it's solely bc he's the one who trained her. he retired in 1990 when he was um 54 years old lmao. but off the clock he's rather clumsy and likes to cook and keeps chickens and is kind of a health nut (bc of his extremely fit dilf of a husband) and makes quilts and is unbelievably boring and just wants to hang out on the back porch with a drink and watch the sunset. so his someguyness exists only in a singular dimension. he thinks he's very plain and boring but is actually an Extremely Talented person whose skills are unmatched and likely always will be. he gets involved in Exceptional Shit by accident but finds out he's the most suited person in the entire world for dealing with said Exceptional Shit. and he does kind of know it. he knows he's the best at what he does and takes great pride in the fact that he's unmatched.

I think they would be very good friends lol

too exhausted to make a coherent post but Josef's someguyness is like. off the charts but he is also a mary sue.