#oough have i maybe

[hacemorra-death-gremlin]

Oh See.... 

[ID: Three drawings of op’s original character, Sameeh Olssen. They are labeled “1 minute”, “10 minutes”, and “From Memory”, and each done in a very sketchy style. “1 minute” is a very bare bone face shot, 3/4s angle with a serious expression. “10 minutes” is a more detailed sketch bust, with them moving forward with a small grin, where fangs are visable. In this he is wearing a tweed jacket and a turtleneck. “From Memory” is a fully colored sketch. They are sitting down, leaning forward enough their hands are flat against the ground. He looks upward slightly vulnerably. They are wearing a loose-fitting black shirt with “METAL BAND” written on the front, grey pants, and fuzzy earrings. Behind their head is sketched bugs in red. Over all, Sam is lanky with a scruffy beard. They have an undercut, with shoulder length black hair that is tied back into a pony tail. The pupil of their eye is a W shape. end ID] 

[vypridae]

it genuinely baffles me that people still think vox is some precious baby that needs to be protected and kept from val at all costs. are we like... are we watching the same show?

[sciderman]

unleashing the gender for the summer at long last

[squishosaur]

TWST X FNAF AU PLOT DUMP BEFORE I FORGET ALL MY IDEAS OKAY:

tw for canon typical fnaf stuff ✌️😐

mrs. rosehearts & dr. shroud (idia's mother) are a scientist working on regenrative medicine and a robotics engineer respectively. they meet at a conference for women in STEM and bond over their shared interest in furthering the medicinal field via robotics. they become partners in developing fully mobile, free-roaming animatronics that are able to detect human emotions and help people who are suffering (and whose parts should be able to replace any part of an actual human body).

to test these robots, they decide they should be able to work with kids (as they both have young children anyways, so they do have test subjects). they open a pizzeria where they can work on their project and see how they interact with humans.

at the same time, their kids, idia, ortho, and riddle, all catch glimpses of their work. idia and ortho fall in love with the robots as their mother explains her dream of helping people with them. in riddle's case, he sees the skeleton-esque exposed wires and horrific eyes that always seem to watch him from his mother's desk with no explanation to what they're for. he's afraid of them.

riddle learns to live in unquestioning fear. he obeys his mother and studies what she tells him to... completely neglecting and avoiding things she says he'd never understand. contrasting to this, idia grows to be an ambitious inventor in his own right, impressing his family and peers alike with his coding and inventing skills. ortho often asks him to build toys for him; idia obliges.

things are going relatively well for a while when tragedy strikes the pizzeria. one day, in an attempt to help him get over his fear of the robots, riddle's friend, che'nya, goes over to an animatronic that was in sleep mode and sticks his head in its mouth to prove it was safe. unfortunately, the sudden movement caused the animatronic to "wake" and accidentally kill him. (riddle goes on to describe this scene as being similar to the cheshire cat's head disappearing amd reappearing without its body in his journal).

after the incident, riddle holes himself up in his room and refuses to go to school, feeling guilty for what happened. mrs. rosehearts refuses to believe that her perfect son "doesn't function properly" AND that her life's work has to be put on hold due to a fault in the programming. she blames her partner and, in a fury, she drives to the (now closed down) pizzeria in an attempt to meet with her to give her a piece of her mind. blinded by rage, she speeds down the road and doesn't notice a child, trey, crossing the street. she hits him and, in a frenzy, takes and stuffs his body into an animatronic.

she realizes that the animatronic trey is inside moves on its own and decides that there IS a way to continue her research. via medical malpractice, she reaps the souls of 4 other kids and gets them to haunt other animatronics, effectively preserving their souls despite their bodies dying. (somewhere around here, riddle's parents split up because of how absorbed his mother gets into her work.)

mrs. rosehearts may have gotten her experiments back, but her son is still irreparably broken and she wants revenge on the shroud family, who she blames for the entire incident. she meets with them at their house under the guise of wanting to voice her concerns with the malfunctioning animatronics and how to fix them/the future of their company. while she's there, she meets idia and asks him about his inventions. he shows her his robots and how he coded them. while he is distracted, she edits the code and gets the robots to attack ortho and make it look like a malfunction. ortho is gravely injured and dies at the hospital (the one she works at. nothing suspicious there. dw about it 😐😐)

idia shuts himself away the same way riddle has. he makes prototypes in order to try and rebuild ortho. mrs. rosehearts anonymously reaches out and manipulates him into working for her to build robots in exchange for a way to "fix ortho." at the same time, she monitors riddle through his stuffed animals and keeps him inside with fearmongering.

with idia's help, she reestablishes the pizzeria and collects remnant in her lab. she hires a nightguard, ruggie, who notices something weird about the animatronics. he dips after a week, citing "you're doing some danny phantom shit to me" as the reason.

riddle moves out after turning 18. also transitions at some point because transfem riddle is real always. she finds ruggie as someone asking for a roommate online and they seem to click well enough. riddle asks ruggie about jobs and he offhandedly mentions that being a nightguard was the worst possible option. riddle is curious and ruggie explains the robots seemingly being programmed to kill. hearing this, riddle begins to think that che'nya's death wasn't an accident and she is determined to get a job to investigate. ruggie begs her not to, but ends up getting roped in too.

under the alias rosaria hart, riddle gets a job as a nightguard with ruggie. they explore the premises every night, but as they get closer to understanding the mystery, the building gets more dangerous and they see a new animatronic roaming around, unfazed by their deterrents, that wants them dead. at the same time, the puppet (ortho) mistakes riddle for her mother and keeps trying to kill her too. they manage to unmask the murderous animatronic as mrs. rosehearts herself and get her to confess to the murders of the children, which causes the animatronics to close in on her before the springlocks in her suit fail and she (nearly) dies. riddle and ruggie escape, but not before the animatronics try to rip ruggie's face off.

riddle then goes back to her childhood home to clear out her things and finds her mother's research open, talking about remnant and how she was harvesting it. shocked by this, riddle goes to her mother's lab to destroy it and set the souls free.

when she gets there, she begins hearing che'nya. his voice guides her safely through the rooms of the other animatronics until she gets to the scooping room. suddenly, his demeanor changes and he tells her that her mother is still alive and it isn't over yet.

riddle then gets scooped and stumbles back to ruggie and explains what happened. they decide together that they need to find a way to end it all. they go back to all of the previous locations and burn them down, saving the one where mrs. rosehearts is springlocked for last.

hearing that all of his inventions were being destroyed, idia rushes to the final location to salvage what he can. here, he finds mrs. rosehearts and she offers him a hard drive on which she has uploaded her digital consciousness so that she can get him to continue her research, promising that it will give him the final piece of information left save ortho. as he reaches out towards her, riddle bursts in through the doors and tells them that this has to stop. she explains to idia how it works and that he's been manipulated into helping kill children with his inventions. she also convinces him that the real ortho's soul deserved to finally be put to rest, not jammed into a robotic body. idia agrees and, together, they set the old building ablaze, ending the franchise forever, but not before the puppet tells idia goodbye.

afterwards, idia creates the first fully conscious, learning artificial assistant (who he does build in ortho's image), riddle and ruggie recieve actual medical care, the old buildings are torn down, and riddle's childhood home goes up for sale and is bought by an enthusiastic young realtor and entrepreneur, azul, who is all too intrigued by the research he finds when clearing it out...

[sleepykas]

Stumbles in

Hi I'm still alive moving is just taking a lot longer than anticipated <3

Stumbles out

[revon-aurora-borealis]

i have this oc that nomatter how hard i try i can get her personality right and it is so painful i kinda am gonna cry abt it

[foxyfexyll]

why i have to get sick when i have infinity drawing ideas in my head And the motivation to make them i’m like man. why must hand shakey

[synthsays]

Yes actually! My thought process is that he dissembles/replaces parts himself through the corse of 30 years and because the laptop stored most of the digital memory of the portal, he would've removed it. It's part of how his design changes drastically in 30 years. Part of his memory erasure process (besides the fact he makes the gun) is replacing parts of himself that remind him of the portal and etc etc. So yes old man mcgucket is a rust bucket lmao

Monster Falls girlies how we feeling about this one.

Happy Fiddleford Friday Y'all

(Bonus art under cut)

And one for the fiddauthor peeps

[didsomeonesayventus]

I don’t know how FFXIV made the perfect formula to get you obsessed with your wol and/or OC but oops I love Hesperia so much + also keep having new ideas for others. (ft. a friend’s wol in the upper right tho)

[ckret2]

Chapter 41 of human Bill Cipher being really sick of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: after absolutely terrorizing Gideon for projecting used car ads into Bill's dreams, tries to blackmail Gideon into working for him again.

But not before showing some unexpected sympathy for the plight of a child psychic on whose shoulders the family's financial future rests.

####

Dipper and Mabel were in the middle of a race on a roller coaster track when Bill wandered back downstairs. He sat on the couch armrest next to Mabel and precariously balanced as he crossed his legs. "So I've been thinking over this whole thing," Bill said. "I think I should apologize to Gideon."

"Work that out all by yourself?" Dipper glanced at the clock. "Wow. And it only took you half an hour."

Mabel finished a lap. While the roller coaster track slowly lifted her car to the top of the hill to start the next lap, she turned to give Bill an appraising look, ready to assess his work. "Apologize for what?"

"For terrorizing him! Is this a trick question?"

She nodded slowly—a little skeptical, but so far so good—but had to look away as she regained control of her car. "What's your angle?"

"I'm equilateral, work it out."

"Shut uuup, I'm serious."

"Why do I need to have an angle? Maybe I want to practice some of the apology lessons they're teaching on Color Critters! Aren't you the one who wanted me to be a decent person? You should be thrilled. You are thrilled."

"Bill."

"Okay fine, I want you to stop looking at me like I'm evil incarnate over a silly little prank letter." He nudged Mabel's head with his elbow. She smacked his arm away. "Isn't that the only reason anyone apologizes? To stop people from getting mad at them?" He lifted his eyepatch and squinted at the screen. "Goose in the left barrel."

Mabel swerved left. "Yes! Eat tail feathers, Dipper!"

"No no no no—!" His anguished groan mingled with angry honks. He tossed down his controller as Mabel sailed past his disabled car. "I'm not playing with Bill in the room."

Mabel laughed. "You're a sore loser!"

"I'll be out of your matted hair in a few minutes," Bill said. "You're cranky, go get a juice."

Dipper stomped from the room, grumbling. "Whatever, I'm getting a snack." He pointed at Bill, "Not because you told me to! I'm just hungry! It's got nothing to do with you!"

"Sure." Bill nudged Mabel again. "C'mon, let me use my training. Don't think I haven't noticed you're trying to mold me into a model citizen. Why bother if I never get a chance to act like one?"

Mabel looked at him thoughtfully. "You know what? Okay. I guess not wanting people to be mad at you is a good enough reason to apologize." She'd been hoping he'd land on genuine remorse, but she'd take what she could get.

"Great! Fisherman's out, Questiony's working, Sixer's gonna be in his cave til dinner, Dolores doesn't care—" Bill gestured toward the door, "so let's get the bracelets and get to the kid's house while the adults are distracted."

Mabel grimaced. "Oough. Right. We have to actually visit him."

"Unless you want me to mail an apology letter—"

"Definitely not." She sighed. "Well, if it's for the greater good... put on something other than a hoodie and let's go."

"You got it." Bill hopped off the couch and swung with one hand around the doorframe as he headed to the stairs.

####

Dipper tried to protest, but he'd missed his window to talk Mabel out of it; and so Bill and Mabel headed out, with Bill in a loose smiley face-covered Hawaiian shirt—Mabel approved of the friendly message—an undershirt, the leggings that looked like jeans, and his dress shoes. In other words, about as disarmingly unthreateningly un-Bill-like as he could get. He seemed to get bouncier and more energetic the longer they walked outside, until by the time they were turning onto Gideon's street he was cartwheeling up the sidewalk.

Bill waited for Mabel to open the gate in front of Gideon's house; but while Bill blithely passed through, Mabel lingered behind a few steps. Bill paused and glanced back. "Hey. All good, star girl?"

"Yeah." Mabel laughed nervously and caught up. "Just... haven't been to his house since before he got weird. Kinda gives me the willies now."

"Can't blame you. This is the guy who agreed to be my sheriff in exchange for custody of your bubble key."

Mabel cringed. "Did he really?"

"Oh yeah. Think he was planning to visit you in there until he wooed you? I never asked him. I didn't want the details."

"Ugh." Mabel shuddered.

Bill paused. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that ten feet from his front door."

"It's... it's fine." She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Greater good. Right?"

He didn't answer immediately, tapping a foot as he thought. "Listen. Once we're in there, do you want me to go somewhere private to talk with him? So you don't have to worry about him leering at you the whole time?"

"Would you?" Mabel's shoulders slumped as a little tension eased up, relief obvious on her face. "But how will I know if you've apologized properly?"

"That little tattle will tell you if I do an awful job." Bill laughed. "Come on! I don't need you grading me on a rubric! Gimme a chance to prove I can say 'I'm sorry' without my life coach telling me how to behave."

"Thanks, Bill." She gave him a quick hug.

"Sure, any time kid. I'm not about to let any creeps get to you on my watch." Bill stretched his arms out, fingers laced together. "Ready?" When Mabel nodded, Bill knocked on the door.

After a long moment, a worried-looking, gray-haired woman opened the door. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Gleeful!" Bill offered a partial bow. "We're here to visit Gideon, he should be expecting us. Would you let him know we're here?"

"Oh. Yes, of course." Her voice was a hushed murmur, as though she were talking to herself—or perpetually concerned about being overheard. She didn't raise her voice much as she called into the house, "Gideon? You have visitors."

Voice muffled, Gideon shouted from upstairs, "Who is it!"

Joy glanced over Bill and Mabel, but her gaze lingered on Mabel's face. "Oh. Aren't you that girl he...?"

"It's Mabel."

Joy said, "It's Mabel, and—"

Gideon let out an alarmed squawk. "Ohmygoodness. JUST A MINUUUTE! Where did I leave my cologne—"

Joy watched the ceiling nervously, listening to the subtle thuds.

Bill glanced her up and down, as though sizing up what he had to work with; and then he smiled brightly and said, "Well, I'm sure the little star's preparing a big entrance! Shall we wait inside?"

Joy started a little. "Oh—yes, of course. Please, come in." She pulled the door open wider and gestured to the sitting area.

Bill and Mabel took a seat on the couch. Bill crossed one ankle over his knee in a casual figure 4, and gestured to the armchair as though he were the host giving his guest permission to sit. Joy hesitated, but took the seat, sitting straight up without touching the back of the seat, feet together and hands laced over her knees.

"And how has Gideon been lately?" Bill asked. "We haven't had a chance to catch up since last summer!"

"Oh—I'm sure he's probably fine," Joy said, eyes darting around—to the clean carpet, to the framed pictures hanging straight on the wall, to the doorway into the kitchen.

"'Probably'?" Bill echoed.

"Well. He's really closer to his father, you see..."

"Nonsense." Bill lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I trust a woman's intuition on this sort of thing." He paused. "I'd wink here, but uh..." He gestured at his eye patch and shrugged with a helpless grin.

Joy curled her lips into her mouth and, for the first time since she'd opened the door, for a fraction of a second, nearly almost smiled. But it faded quickly; and when she spoke, her voice was low enough that Mabel had to lean halfway across the coffee table to hear her. (Bill didn't even move.) "You should probably know before you see him: he... has seemed a little bit cranky, recently."

"Oh?" Bill prompted.

(Mabel mumbled, "'Recently'?" and Bill nudged her.)

"Nothing like he was when he—" Joy faltered and quickly course corrected, "before his arrest. But, a bit. But then he's going through so much—reintegrating into life on the outside, trying to make friends at school..."

"Say, that's nice to hear! Has he made many?"

Joy hesitated. "He's always been... such a precocious child. It makes it hard for him to relate to other... And honestly, I think most of the children are jealous of his talents."

Bill nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure they are. Kids can be so cruel when they notice someone special. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down."

Joy nodded. "Yes—exactly. And he's so... sensitive."

Bill gave Mabel a warning glance. She pursed her lips tightly and puffed out her cheeks. Satisfied she wasn't about to weigh in on why Gideon wasn't making friends, Bill turned back to Joy. "Do you think that's what's been bothering him lately?"

"Well, yes, there's that."

Voice a tad lower, Bill prompted, "And...?"

Joy paused. She twisted her hands together. "And—I think he might be concerned about his father's business."

"Oh, the auto dealership?" Bill sat up a little. "I hope it hasn't been struggling lately?"

"It's... been a slow few months," Joy said. "It must be weighing on him—"

"He doesn't feel responsible, does he?"

Joy quickly shook her head. "Of course not. It isn't his fault. But he's just a little boy, there's not much he can do to help. Besides perform in a commercial, maybe—and he doesn't like that, we don't make him do that anymore—or..." She trailed off. "Well. Not knowing how to help or what to do... I can imagine he must feel... guilty." She stared down at her hands as she spoke.

Bill's gaze never wavered from her face. He nodded slowly. "I'm sure the business must be weighing on the whole family. It can't be easy for you, Joy—keeping a household running during such a difficult time." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll see what I can do to help you all."

Joy stared at his face, eyes shining. "I'm, sorry—did I catch your name?"

"Mr. Locke is fine, thanks. I was in business talks with your son before his incarceration."

Mabel leaned against Bill and whispered, "You mean he hired you to invade my grunkle's brain—"

Bill elbowed her.

Footsteps scurried down the stairs. "I'm coming!" Gideon rushed into the room, tugging his sleeves down his wrists, all gussied up and reeking of three separate hair products. "Hi Mabel my honey pie! What a pleasant surprise, what brings you by so s—" His gaze fixed on Bill, and his sweet smile twisted into fury. "You!"

Joy quickly stood up. "I should be—vacuuming the dining room." She hurried from the room, giving Gideon a wide berth as she went. The sound of vacuuming quickly filled the house.

Gideon never looked away from Bill. "Just what do you think y—"

Bill was on his feet and sweeping across the room before Gideon could get more out. "Hello again! I don't think we were properly introduced. The name's Goldie Locke." He blinked. "Wink."

Gideon grimaced. "You serious? Goldilocks? That's the best you could do?"

"I thought it was funny!"

Mabel scooted up onto the arm of the sofa, took a leap off, and landed next to Bill. "I came up with it!"

Gideon smiled uncomfortably. "Oh—sure, sure. Real cute."

"We came by so Goldie here," Mabel poked Bill's arm with both hands, "could give you a proper apology for his... 'prank.'" She got behind Bill and poked him in the back, directing him toward the stairs. "So you two go off somewhere private and do that! Go! Go on!"

"Wh— private?" Gideon leaned around Bill to give Mabel a pleading look. "M-Mabel, aren't you coming too?"

Mabel laughed nervously. "No, definitely not. I'm staying right here."

"But—but—"

"It's fine! If he tries any—" her voice dropped to a whisper, "—weird space demon magic—you can just scream. But he's basically harmless! I promise."

"But... I don't wanna be alone with..."

Bill put a hand on Gideon's back, turned him around, and practically dragged him toward the stairs. "And she doesn't want to be alone with you, and I'm going to respect her wishes."

Gideon hissed at Bill. He wasn't quite sure what to do when Bill hissed back. No one had ever done that before.

"You've got nothing to worry about," Bill said, giving Gideon a very worrying smile. "I just want an opportunity to show you the sincerity of my remorse. A little heart-to-heart! And anyway, you and I have a lot of catching up to do."

####

The moment Gideon's bedroom door shut, Bill said, in an exaggeratedly innocent golly-gee-whiz voice, "'Well, Mabel, the thing is, I was just cranky because I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in days, because Gideon's been broadcasting mind control dreams to the town multiple times a week! Yeah, you know how you've been waking up feeling hypnotically compelled to buy a car? Good ol' Gideon! But you're right, bullying isn't the solution! I should have just asked him to cast his brainwashing spell a little further from the Mystery Shack—'" Bill cut off with a laugh. "I take it you get the picture! Your flesh is as white as your hair! It's—it's creepy. Stop it."

Gideon was already on the far side of the room, holding a floating arm desk lamp toward Bill like a sword. Voice shaking, he asked, "How do you know about that spell? H-how are you even alive? And here like... like this?"

"Does it matter?" Bill meandered around the room, looking at Gideon's matching nightstands, his TV, the floppy teddy bear on his bed. "Here's the only important question: what's it worth to you for me not to spill the beans to your sweetheart?"

Gideon swallowed hard.

As Bill rounded the bed, Gideon backed away from him until his back was pressed against the wall between his vanity and his dresser. Bill leaned over to look under the bed and nudged a rolled-up tarp with his foot. It unrolled across the floor, revealing Gideon's magic circle. "Uh-huh."

"Please stop looking around my room."

"Relax, I just want to see what's changed! This is hardly the first time I've seen your room." He glanced down at the subtle depiction of his face woven into the pattern on Gideon's carpet. "I've had eyes in here since you were a baby." 

He leaned over Gideon's bed, studying his knit zodiac blanket. "Although this eye is new. You went with red, white, and blue? How patriotic." He tugged at the blanket's edges, straightening it out. "Lots of pilling on the yarn, this thing's been very well loved. Does it still smell like Shooting Star, you cretin?"

"You keep your hands off of Mabel's blanket, you—!" Gideon swung his lamp toward Bill. It missed by a foot.

Bill didn't even flinch. "You're very lucky that you missed." For a moment, his voice was inhumanly low.

Gideon's blood ran cold. He clutched the lamp against his chest. "W-what do you want from me? I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep, all right? Is that what you want to hear?!"

"It's a good start!" Bill sat on Gideon's bed and made himself comfortable, propping himself up on his elbows, ankles crossed casually, resting in the center of his own zodiac. "Now, promise you'll stop advertising in people's dreams, and everything's forgiven!"

"I..." Gideon bit his lip.

Bill grinned a little wider. "What's the problem, kid? It's not like your daddy needs you running his advertising campaign! The family finances aren't resting on your shoulders!" He laughed.

Gideon just bit his lip harder. 

"Oh wait. Maybe they are. Are they?"

He looked down at the tarp. "Mrrng."

Bill sat up, leaning forward until he caught Gideon's gaze again. "So sorry, Star Boy! I didn't realize how serious your situation is!" His wicked smile said otherwise. "Wow, that must be so hard for you—the family breadwinner, at such a young age. Knowing your family needs you to keep them afloat. And it's not like you can just go out and get a job! So what can you do, except... well, whatever it is you already know how to do? Putting on a good show, right?"

"It's not like that," Gideon snapped, ignoring the weight in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his lamp weapon and tugged anxiously at one of his sleeves. "It—it's not as though we're broke! We just... might have to tighten our belts a little bit, that's all. It's normal, most businesses have their ups and downs."

"Of course. Just no big shopping trips for a while! Pity you're about to need a whole new wardrobe, though."  Bill casually pushed himself off Gideon's bed, taking a step closer. "Hey, wanna know when your next growth spurt starts?"

Gideon shrank down. "No."

"It costs a lot to keep a growing kid clothed. And fed, and stocked with school supplies... If father asks for a little help, how can you refuse? If you don't, you could lose the business, lose your house, lose everything... all that, plus knowing it'd be your fault for not doing what you can? It's heartbreaking."

Bill leaned over Gideon, propping himself up with a hand on his dresser, trapping him in his shadow. Gideon cringed; but Bill asked, voice unexpectedly low and almost gentle, "You're so important. There's a helplessness that comes from wielding that kind of power, isn't there?"

The weight in Gideon's stomach grew heavier. Bill must have been watching his life ever since last fall; that was the only way he could have understood what Gideon was feeling so well. And yet—hearing someone else put it into words was a strange relief. He'd cut to the bleeding core of the issue. Gideon was the only one with the power to do anything, so he had to do something. It was a helplessness.

"Yeah." Gideon put his lamp back on his dresser, defeated. "Yeah, there is."

Bill crouched in front of Gideon, meeting him at eye level. "It just so happens that I'm sympathetic to your situation, kid. I get it." It was hard to read the mood in Bill's alien gaze; but for a moment, Gideon was sure he really did see a glimmer of sympathy in his slit pupil. "So how about this: I could help you out. Make some calls, pull some strings... give the family business a little boost," he said. "If you do me a couple small favors first."

Outraged, Gideon shouted, "You're blackmailing me into working for you again?! You—!" With a furious grunt, Gideon shoved Bill away from him.

To his surprise (and immediate horror), Bill lost balance, toppling onto his back with a yelp. But he just rolled onto his side and hopped back to his feet, laughing. "No no no! I'm blackmailing you into knocking off the annoying dream spell. That's all! Cut it out, or I'm telling Mabel. And—heck, how about the police while I'm at it?"

"You wouldn't—"

"I am pals with the sheriff and the mayor. Mind control happens to already be illegal in Gravity Falls, you can thank Quentin Trembley for that—such a forward thinker! I don't think there are any state-level laws yet, but I bet they'll wriiite ooone just for yoo-oou." The last sentence came out as a singsong taunt. "Anyway: drop the mind control. That's all I'm asking for. Okay?"

Gideon had circled around Bill to his bed, where he pulled off his zodiac blanket and bundled it against his chest. He wasn't sure which sounded worse. Prison probably should, but the thought of giving Mabel a fresh reason to hate him... He looked down at the blanket, and heaved a shaky sigh. "Okay."

"So? We're agreed? No more dream advertisements?"

"No more dream advertisements. You win."

"Great!" Bill beamed at Gideon. "But then, completely separately, if you want help saving the family business... well, offer's on the table! In fact, I'd happily offer to help without asking anything in return—"

"—you should, it's mostly your fault—"

"—except that, with my own situation being like it is, what with the limited access to my usual resources... I need you to help me help you." He spread his hands apologetically. "Nothing I can do about it."

Gideon pressed his lips together, looking down at his zodiac blanket. A fold in the fabric displayed part of the ripped heart. Gideon plucked out the blanket until he could glimpse the top of the shooting star.

He swallowed hard. "No. Absolutely not."

Bill blinked. "'Scuse me?"

"I can't accept your help," Gideon said. "I lead a support group of ex-cons—the very same ones I stupidly led into battle for you—and what would they say if they heard I was working for you again?"

The indulgent smile on Bill's face vanished. Rage flashed in his eye. "What would they say if they learned you're the first among them to reoffend?" He pointed at Gideon's magic circle. "Wouldn't they be disappointed. Aren't they your followers these days?"

Gideon squirmed under Bill's glare, backing away until he bumped into one of his nightstands. "F... 'followers'?"

"Your devotees—now that your Tent of Telepathy audience has abandoned you." The new smile that twisted across Bill's face now was hard and cruel, and his eye fixed like a prison searchlight on Gideon made Bill seem much closer than he was. "Isn't being worshiped sublime, Star Boy? That unconditional love? A worshiper will always be more reliable than some girl's fickle heart. But even the most 'unconditional' love always comes with fine print. How far are you willing to go to remain worthy of their love?"

Bill pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and waved it in the air. "We both know you'll help your daddy's business. The only question is if you'll do it your way, or mine." He placed the paper on Gideon's dresser and tapped it with his finger. "My way doesn't even involve breaking the law."

Gideon shook his head. "I won't..."

"I'll leave it with you anyway."

Bill strolled around the bed. "Well! I think we're finished here, how about you?" He stopped in front of the door.

He turned back. "Gideon, you're gonna have to get the door, I can't..."

"What?" Gideon asked. "Y'can't what?"

Bill huffed. "I'm sort of under this curse? So. If you could just—"

Gideon burst out laughing in disbelief. "The Amnesia Limina curse? You can't open doors?! Are you kidding me!"

"I can still ruin the rest of your embarrassingly short mortal life, you twit. Just—just get over here—"

Still laughing, Gideon crossed the room and got the door.

"Yeah. Thanks. Great."

As they came downstairs, Mabel hopped off the sofa. "Sooo? How'd the apology go?"

"Great!" Bill got in front before Gideon had a chance to speak. "I think we really understand each other better. Isn't that right, Gideon?"

Gideon grumped, "I think it's the worst 'apology' I've ever heard."

Bill gave him a dirty look powerful enough to kill a skittish horse; but he flinched under the weight of Mabel's disappointed frown. He laughed nervously, "Okay, so I still need some practice with my delivery! Human tones are finicky." He stared at Gideon. "But you accept the overall content of it, right?"

Bill was giving Gideon the creepiest smile he'd ever seen. But Mabel, on the other hand, was giving him this hopeful look—like she wanted this to go well so badly, and only Gideon could make or ruin her day. There's a helplessness that comes with wielding that kind of power.

In the world Gideon had been raised in, if someone who has transgressed against you apologizes, you don't have the right to withhold their forgiveness—it makes you as bad as the transgressor. The only way he could refuse was if he told Mabel he hadn't even gotten any apology; but there was no way to say that without admitting what they'd really discussed. "Yeah," Gideon muttered at his shoes. "I s'pose I accept it."

"Yes!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air so enthusiastically she lifted a few inches off the floor. "Great work! Happy face stickers for everybody!" She smacked a sticker on Bill's shirt and Gideon's lapel.

They tugged out their clothes to inspect their stickers. Bill's had a giant yellow smiley face over the words "Good job!" Gideon's had a smiling whale surrounded by the words "WHALE DONE". They were both disproportionately elated by their prizes.

"So can we go now?" Mabel whispered, "I feel like Mr. Gleeful's new clown painting is staring at me."

"Just one second. I should have a word with the missus of the house." Bill waved back at the kids as he trotted from the room. "Be right back!"

Mabel eyed Gideon warily.

Gideon smiled winningly. "So, Mabel. As long as you're already over here, would you like to stay for dinner—?"

"Nuh-uh." She turned and headed for the door. "Goodbye forever!"

"Aw."

Bill followed the sound of vacuuming through the kitchen into the dining room, and rapped on the doorframe. "Knock knock."

Joy flinched and spun around. "Oh." She turned off her vacuum. "Yes, Mr. Locke?"

"Just wanted to thank you for your hospitality before we leave!"

"Oh—yes, of course. You're welcome."

He lowered his voice, "And I also wanted to tell you not to worry about a thing. I'm sure everything will turn out fine for your family—and for you." He flashed her a winning smile.

She hesitantly nodded. "Thank you."

####

As they walked to the gate around the Gleeful property, Mabel said, "You weren't just all talk with Gideon's mom, were you? You actually are planning to help her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Something like that. How'd you know?"

"You told her to call you Mister. That means you mean business!"

A crooked smile stretched across his face. "Hey! No fair, you know too much. You're figuring out all my secrets."

Out on the sidewalk, Bill did a cartwheel, attempted to turn it into a handstand, and fell on the sidewalk. He brushed off a scraped elbow with a grumble and got back up. Well, it matched his burn on the other side.

"4 out of 10."

"I didn't ask."

Mabel snickered. "You know—your conversation with Gideon might not have gone perfectly. But you realized you did something wrong, you apologized for it, and you're gonna do better." She patted his arm. "I'm really proud of you, Bill. That's some serious growth."

"Really?"

"Really."

He beamed. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been proud of him. (Granted, he didn't generally tolerate relationships in which somebody felt like they had enough superiority over him to feel "pride" toward his actions. Generally "awe" or "admiration" were more common.) He was basking in the praise. He was over the moon. He was euphoric. He was the best person to ever exist.

The fact that the praise was horribly misplaced didn't faze him in the least.

####

Gideon had spent the past minute picking peas out of his pot pie and scooting them to the edge of his plate.

Bud cleared his throat. "Son, you really ought to eat your vegetables. And they'll taste better mixed in with the rest of your food than all by themselves."

"I don't want my peas."

"But they're good for you! Don't you want to grow up big and strong—?"

Gideon flinched. He pounded the table. "I said I don't WANT my peas!"

"All right, okay, that's fine! Just thought I'd suggest it."

Gideon grumpily scooped up a forkful of chicken, carrots, and corn, eyed the carrots skeptically, and took a bite. It was fine. "So, father. How was work?"

Bud sighed. "Oh, it would've made more sense just to close for the day. At least then I wouldn't be wasting money on air conditioning the office."

"Oh." Gideon stabbed at a lone piece of corn with his fork. "Maybe we oughta... stop with the nighttime ads. It doesn't sound like they're helping."

"Ahh, you might be right."

Gideon heaved a sigh of relief.

"I just don't know what else to try." Bud shook his head. "I've tried newspaper ads, TV ads, radio ads, billboards, fliers, sales, cutting brake lines..." He settled his hand near Gideon's spot at the table. "Son, you know I know you're doing the best you can to help our family, and it means more to me than I can say. But, if there's anything else you can think of...?"

Gideon tried to avoid his father's gaze—and instead, spotted his mother. She usually kept to herself during dinner, wholly focused on her own plate when she wasn't setting out dishes or cleaning them up. But tonight, she was looking right at Gideon. Like she expected something out of him, too.

He shrank into his seat. "Well. I've got one other idea I could try."

####

Gideon shut the door to his room—and, just to be safe, stuck his chair under the doorknob. Then he gingerly picked up the paper on the dresser and unfolded it.

The same tall, thin handwriting as on the letter he'd received—but even more cramped, cramming as much text on one torn-out book page as possible. A terse paragraph of instructions, a phone number, a numbered list of questions, a prepared statement.

Gideon got his mobile phone and a notebook, set up to take notes at his vanity, took a deep breath, let it out, and dialed the number. As the phone rang, he looked at himself in the mirror and muttered, "Heaven help me if I'm facilitating the start of Armageddon."

Then someone picked up, and he held the phone up to his ear. "Hello? Oh, right, er—" He read off the paper Bill had given him, "'But rises gold over the pyramid.' ... Yes. Mhm, I'm calling on behalf of... of Bill Cipher. ... My name's not important, I'm just the messenger—oh, oh you recognize my voice! Haha!" He mopped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "A-always nice to meet a fan! Yeah, we know each other. Small world. N... no, he didn't give me my... I was—was psychic before I met him, actually. Sorry, I didn't catch your name—who'm I speaking to?"

Gideon looked at Bill's list of questions, wrote a 1. in his notebook, and beside it wrote "Sue Blime." One question down. "I have a message to pass on."

####

He pushed harder.

Her skin fractured and peeled off, strand after strand. It filled the spaces between his fingertips, wrapped up his arms. He could shut his eye but he still saw it through his eyelid, still felt it tickling at the corners of his mouth. He let out an angry, hysterical, broken laugh.

And then he laughed louder, and louder—higher, shriller, echoing all the way to the distant stars. "What am I doing?" He opened his eye and looked at his hands, tangled with gold threads and soaked in blood. He laughed again, gleeful. "What am I doing! None of this is real! This is a dream! We're in my dreamscape. None of this matters! I control all of you!"

Bill controlled all of them.

He effortlessly peeled his arm off the plane of his dimension into the third, still tangled in gore, and spun his finger. The golden shreds of skin let go of his hand, rotating around his hand in a loose tornado. Cackling again, he rose up into space, looping like a paper airplane on a breeze, telekinetically twirling the countless golden shreds with him like he was doing a ribbon dance. And wasn't it beautiful? He was changing their color—yellow green blue violet red orange yellow—he was melting them down to floating drops of liquid gold, he was making them vanish into thin air. There was no blood on his hands. There never had been. He had never killed. His mother did not exist.

He glanced toward the stars. "Am I gonna have any meddling from you? Want to sell me any cars tonight?"

The stars didn't answer. Good. He didn't want his show interrupted by a commercial break.

"I control you," Bill announced to the crowd of assembled worshipers below, numb and thoughtless and unmoving while the god of this dream had no use for them to live. "You answer to me!" He jabbed his thumb against his golden face—not the internal organs exposed to the third dimension the rest of the shapes had, but the exoskeleton he wouldn't start wearing until centuries after this memory. "The only life you have is in my head! All of you, all of you have been burned away for a trillion years!" He paused, then flashed two finger guns at a red hexagon in the crowd. "All except you, Hect. Always great to see a long-time fan!"

In the field of frozen shapes, Bill's memory of Hectorgon hesitantly waved.

"But..." Beneath Bill, still as aghast as he'd been so many eons ago, still playing his part to move this dream along, his father said, "But... what are we going to tell your followers?"

"Ugh, you're such a downer. Give it a rest, you old square!" Bill did something no prisoner of the second dimension had ever been capable of doing: he snapped his fingers. His father silently dissolved into origami butterflies and fluttered into space. "You barely even liked her."

He floated back down to the plane, lacing his fingers together to stretch his arms in front of him. "I don't need you," he muttered. "I've got this handled. I've always been the one who had this handled. Now let's end this dream the right way."

Time to sucker his suckers.

He swooped through the open doors to speak to his assembled worshipers as effortlessly as though he'd been doing this a trillion years: "My beautiful, loving believers! I have wonderful news. Your high priestess—my mother—has passed on; but, you should be celebrating! Because she hasn't abandoned us! Her spirit's just ascended—not up, but out of our dimension and into the third, where the spirits of all departed shapes live on! Her spirit's formed a bridge from there to me, and through me to you! She's revealed the true nature of the third dimension—a sublime realm of color and life—and I'll reveal it to you, too!"

The black starry void of the third dimension above Bill mutated as he spoke; now, it was raucous colors, beams of light, and glittery gold. Faraway neon-colored shapes danced deliriously through nebulas and clouds.

"I'll teach you the secrets passed down to us from the enlightened third-dimensional spirits; I'll show you how to see it all for yourself... and if you follow me, if you devote yourself entirely to my teachings, if you trust me blindly—blindly, for I can see what others can't—then I'll guide you INTO the third dimension! I will be your teacher, your divine guide, your muse! So tell me: do you trust me?"

The worshipers cheered.

"Do you worship me?!"

The worshipers screamed.

"Do you love me!"

The worshipers howled, mad with love for Bill, ripping each other apart in a spontaneous outpouring of zealotry.

Bill's shrieking laughter rose up above the roar of his imaginary crowd.

####

For the first time since his death, Bill woke fully rested. Dawn streamed in through the attic window, shining golden on the cloud of curly hair dangling in front of his eyes. And wasn't it beautiful? He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothed it back, and pushed it into the right shape.

He checked to make sure no humans were coming for a while, slid Journal 4 out of its hiding place, and flipped to the page where he'd stuck his "Good Job!" sticker. He'd used his stolen half-dried marker to blacken the sides of the yellow smiley face, turning it from a circle into a triangle, draining the last of its ink in the process. He wasted four pages with every detail he could recollect from this dream, going on and on about how easy it had been to assert his rightful control, how effortless to control time and space. If he ever found the human who wrote that lucid dreaming guide, he was giving 'em a planet.

At the end, he wrote in English, "You'll regret turning me down as your teacher, Stanford. You can't even imagine how many people would have committed murder to get that kind of attention. But I gave it to you."

He tried to remember how that sermon had really gone.

What did he need to remember the truth for? It must have gone something like that. He wouldn't still be here if it hadn't, would he?

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment!! Next week we kick off with more of Bill's history—and then start ramping up for the biggest, longest plot arc so far.)

[mirensiart]

Okay. Okay something other than hurting Wild.... How about Ravio?

What if something like.... His appendix bursting, it's very painful, very sudden and very serious and Legend isn't there to help.

The chain would first be very confused, because as far as they can see everyone is okay, legend would notice and know it's Ravio.

Then the chain would also be hit by that emotional pain

RAVIO NO OMG

ok, but guys, I enjoy the ravio whump, I think I like it way more than the wild whump, so bring me ravio whump to torture the guys with, let's obliterate that bunny !!!!!!!

Ravio having a medical emergency all alone in legend's house without legend to help him makes me so sad ohmygod especially with legend feeling it and knowing something is happening to him oough

I trust in sheerow getting him help, like maybe he gets Irene or Fable to legend's house to help ravio :( GO SHEEROW SAVE UR BESTIE

[ximiiixx]

imagine cove as your bodyguard. i see a lot of rockstar!cove aus that i gobble up without even a modicum of decorum, so imagining a music artist mc (of whatever genre, although i think it'd have to be mainstream for the 'bodyguard' aspect to be believable - either that or you're the one making the genre mainstream, hehe) with cove as a bodyguard...

and he's so good at making you feel safe, even though he couldn't look big and tough to save his life - there's only rare instances where you get to see him serious (if only because you enjoy teasing him too much to ever see him with any expression that isn't flustered or embarrassed...)

he'll see a fan get too close for a picture or start to mouth off at you when you politely deny any stopping in favor of keeping on schedule (your monochromatic manager, lenient as he is, prefers running a tight ship), and all pretense will be thrown out the window as he approaches with no little sternness and wards them off so you can pass. and when he looks back at you to make sure nothing happened, he's so thoughtful and concerned and it makes your heart flutter and melt all at once.

oough, thinking of you asking him to feature on one of your tracks a la government hooker...and when asked why you wanted him to be on your song instead of a fellow singer, you reply that "his voice is hot. do i need another reason?"

and he's sitting backstage watching this interview go down, face flushed to high heaven - and god, he can't even look at you when you get back because he just knows acknowledging your imploring gaze will lead to at least a week's worth of teasing...

maybe he likes it, though - when you tease him. maybe he thinks about that spark in your eyes lighting the fuse of your words a little more than professional standards dictate - rolls your words over in his head like stirring honey into tea, sweet and sublime and all too easy fodder for him to get lost in daydreams and fantasies; the kind of which he'd never had before you.

but he's still under your employ. so, for now, he'll keep those thoughts where you - and your pr team - can't see them.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their robes (COTL 1/2)

Part two might have the lamb, narinder, baal and aym maybe we will see!!

Characters: Leshy, Heket, Kallamar, Shamura

Notes: reader is gn, follower bishops, idc if it was 80 degrees the day I wrote this I yearn for cold weather

CWs: none

LESHY

Assuming he's not going to let you slip into his robes whenever you want.... genuinely a great option to snuggle into it- his weird fur moss leaf stuff feels nice

Drags you around in his robes wherever, you may have to speed up to keep up or simply cling onto him

Outwardly teases you for doing it out of just wanting to be close to him inwardly is feeling some sort of way...

You may be trapped with him for a while though so hopefully you're down with that!

HEKET

Similar to her older brother she would not at all be pleased with her robes going missing but you get a pass- anyone else would get so many nasty things said to them

Actually let's you keep it without much resistance, if it's too cold for her to stay outside she's either going to drag you to one of the fires set around the grounds or she's going to pull you inside

May or may not tease you for stealing from her because you miss her, to outsiders it may come off as her genuinely berating you but you know her well enough that she's not

It's the rough voice and generally leaning into the harsher words she does adore you </3

KALLAMAR

Legitimately starts going nuts when he notices it goes missing because there's so many gems and it was his favorite coat- if it were anyone else who took it he would rip it off of them in an instant.... if... he were still a "mighty" bishop... but alas it's only you

Matching coats... matching coats.... oough... demands whoevers working at the tailor to make you a matching coat. Kallamar I love you but he definitely would be a little.. hmm.. with customer service... pre being humbled in the cult arcs

Lets it go to his head if you did it because you missed him- despite that he doesn't do anything to chase that high such as dangling his time and affection for you above your head.. thafs.. not really his style plus he cant keep to himself (/nonsexually in this context)

Would slip you into his robes to keep you close and warm

SHAMURA

Where did... did they leave it behind somewhere..? No you just nabbed it while they were looking

Genuinely offers to make/get you a robe if you're cold.... definitely would use their own silk to make it.. its... actually a sweet sentiment

Oh you missed them too..? They're right here! They make plans to spend time with you between their responsibilities in the cult... they feel a little guilty that they've been away for so long that you started to miss them

Will take you seriously even if you're only joking/being light hearted about being cold or lonely

[lesbiansforboromir]

Actually one of my favourite things about RoP is how they're willing to tell a completely different narrative to LotR. This is not a story where goodness wins against evil, this is not a story where our heroes succeed or even where heroes exist at all, and RoP is fully leaning into that. They're saying; what if everyone passionately and understandably believes they are doing the right thing, that it HAS to be done for the good of all, and they are all wrong? What if every single character tries so hard to save everyone, but each effort they make only dooms them more? What if it was always hopeless? What if everything they've ever wanted to protect is lost, no matter how hard they try to save it, and actually even because of what they did to save it? And this even goes for Sauron too! Even he will not actually succeed in any of his goals. Like it slaps babes, peak grecian tragedy stuff we've got going on here. It's like the other side of the lotr coin, where lotr says 'be not afraid, everything will be as God wills it, you must have hope (faith)' rop says 'be afraid, everything will be as God wills it, you must still have hope anyway but the hope will kill you this time'.

... And then some guy said 'oough but you gotta have gandalf and a hobbit in there or is it even tolkien 🤪' and nearly ruined the whole thing I MEAN I'LL WAIT AND SEE, I'll wait, maybe they manage it or whatever.

[dirtandspitoftheworld]

First Listen Thoughts

One Assassination Under God

Really interesting intro. My first thought when Manson came in was Sleep, by My Chemical Romance. Did Tim Skold have a hand in this one? It sounds a lot like his style. Love the heavy breakdown. YEEEAHHH THAT SCREAM!!!!!! THATS MY MAN!!!!! I LOVE HIMMMM

No Funeral Without Applause

I LOVE the distorted guitar in the background of the chorus, and the main riff that's reminiscent of "Heart Shaped Box" by Nirvana. There's also some notes of Sweet Dreams, in the bridge. Good to hear his characteristic raspy wail after the bridge, too!

Nod If You Understand

Feels classic, and that hook is CATCHY. Hard and heavy and im obsessed with the line "Pain is a language that was spoken to me, and now it's my time to answer". OOOHHH THAT SCREAMING BREAKDOWN AT THE END!!!!!!!!!

As Sick As The Secrets Within

Already heard it, still love it. It's a nice come-down after Nod If You Understand.

Sacrilegious

Kind of jarring after the quiet ending of As Sick As The Secrets Within, but it's a fun little bop. I like the discordant little tinkly notes in the bg of the verse. Also already heard this one, of course.

Death Is Not A Costume

God i was hoping this would be a slow song and I was so happy as soon as it started. It's a little lackluster though. Maybe I'll come to like it more as I listen to it more, but on first listen, I'm not super into it. The ending is nice, though.

Meet Me In Purgatory

Like many other songs, it sounds familiar. It sounds a lot like Kill4Me at times. It also reminds me of She Wants Revenge, which is a good thing, I love them. Dark and romantic, classic Manson.

Raise The Red Flag

Already heard it, of course. Still good though. But I think "it's time to beat up the bullies" is kind of a childish line lmao.

Sacrifice Of The Mass

Oh, this is a beaaaauuuuuutiful ending. Im in love. "Tell the abyss to stop looking at me" Is an interesting line, as is the full context of "blood is thicker than water".

I'm gonna be listening to this all over again on the bus tomorrow but OOUGH IM SO HAPPY IT'S SO GOOD

[bestworstcase]

@cryptidblues tumblr ate this one too, maybe drop tumblr support a line to check if you’ve been erroneously shadowbanned 

Oscar is dying! He’s dying! We’re getting the full weight and crisis of the merge in volume 10 I NEED IT. The image of him collapsed on the sand as the sunrises with his back to the long memory OOUGH just like Ruby and crescent rose after she drank the tea, before the tree took her. The reversal on “I don’t want to be me anymore” / please let me stay myself. The lad is being eaten alive! From the inside out! By an unstoppable brain parasite that will kill him! And Replace Him! I Need the slow build up of horror from Oscar and everyone involved. “And Oscar…just isn’t himself” they’re place setting. Getting the table ready. Ooh yknow he’s hiding those merge episodes/attacks from his friends. I NEED the existential terror and dread! BUT I NEED THE CATHARSIS OF OSCAR BEING KNOWN, SEEN & SAVED TOO ;-;

NOT to make a post oscar about ozma instead but the thing that is really, really pulling the hinges off for me is the implication that this is happening because oz started actively fighting the merge. as long as oscar resisted and oz kept up the drumbeat of “this is inevitable, there is nothing either of us can do,” the curse kept on quietly eroding oscar as the boundary became thinner and thinner between them. it was, for lack of a better term, stable. 

the moment oz tries to resist, the curse starts trying to rip him forward. to force him to take over, inflicting what seems to be torturous amounts of pain on both of them. the subtle, silent, invisible violence that was inflicted on oscar before explodes outward to attack both of them. 

how many times have i said this curse is specifically designed to make it impossible for ozma to change? that the whole point is to prevent ozma from ever changing his mind or defying the god of light? never doubt me. the literal fucking instant ozma tries to break free, the curse becomes YOU DO NOT HAVE A CHOICE. 

the curse had a failsafe the whole time.

/ozma tangent

oscar though. this poor kid. like the greatest burden on his shoulders in the last four volumes has always been that no one wants to openly acknowledge what’s happening to him and the nature of the merge’s violence being so completely internal means that no one has to look at it except him. and he’s been so isolated in that existential dread but he’s also grown so accustomed to being treated like just. the next ozpin. that when the violence abruptly becomes externalized in reaction to oz’s resistance, oscar… hides it. keeps it to himself. somewhere deep down the idea that it doesn’t matter to anyone what happens to him got lodged in his brain so deeply that he keeps it hidden!!

and i’m obsessed with the emotional complexity the layers of what he’s feeling with regard to ruby, because it’s not as simple as that he misses her and aspires to her optimism; there’s also some underlying resentment there (“you were always so sure that everything would work out…right up until the moment it didn’t” <- paraphrasing) because she was wrong and he wishes he could borrow her certainty but she was wrong. she fell. she was wrong. 

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, everyone else believes that they’re gone forever. that they’re dead. oscar doesn’t. he’s thinking about it in terms of where they might have gone, what might have happened to them, he’s doing research because deep down, there’s a teeny tiny spark of hope that hasn’t been extinguished yet. so there’s this subtext of i wish i had your certainty. even though you were wrong. i’m still trying to find you. we’re still fighting this. you always saw me for who i really was. i don’t know who i am anymore.—there’s this tension throughout the monologue between bitterness and hope, and i don’t know if oscar is even capable of seeing that he is still hopeful or that he does have, if not ruby’s kind of certainty, something of his own that rhymes. he’s feeling this bleak about everything and still trying to figure out where they are because he doesn’t believe they’re dead. 

it was oscar’s idea to put the memorial where the portal had been. it’s taller than a person and shaped like a door. it’s a memorial but it’s also a symbol; the portal is gone, but they were inside it still, we should build our own door so they can find their way home. and then they do, according to the context given. the blacksmith gave them a doorway that went right through their memorial.  ETA: never mind, misremembered

ruby confronting and facing his mortality after running away from it for three volumes to galvanize her to really try to save him vs oscar doing whatever he can think of to somehow save her while roiling in all these complicated painful feelings about how no one cares to know how he’s suffering because it isn’t like there’s any real hope for him. tasty!