#or obvious from canon

[terrestrialnoob]

100% it's a bad game of telephone. Some idea gets popular, the phandom runs wild with it and new people think it's cannon. This has happened over and over and over again. Cores, obsessions, Weston - things that aren't canon in the slightest but that a lot of people just assume is canon, because why else would everyone be talking about it, AND THEN the newbies feel obligated to include certain things when they shouldn't because they think it's obvious or expected.

I feel like people forget that Danny isn't actually feral. Like, I love feral Danny, but, even at the height of his "feralness", his room is spotless, he's sad when he can't study, and he cleans to relieve anxiety (though yes, only when he's alone). He only started not doing his chores, getting bad grades, and missing classes when he stopped having time for it and he hates it! He wants to be a good boy! AND! He loves being a hero and helping people, and I'm tired of people being like "no, actually he hates being a hero and wouldn't do it if he wasn't forced to". No! You are wrong! Danny Fenton loves helping people and being a hero. (I thought we all agreed that Phantom Planet was Out of Character!) He's not a dirty little gremlin child. He's a responsible, well organized teen, and tries to still be that even when he's at the end of his rope and stressed to hell and back.

[claie171art]

Very stupid meme I did instead of studying for my finals

[shepscapades]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [PART 3]

Xbralis as the first canon dbhc pairing with the steel chair!

[theellipelli]

yq design for nostalgic chill! he's two years older than canon, so he's a little larger and more confident.

[collieii]

someone probably said this already but in spiderverse i think it's interesting how when pavitr was first introduced everyone thought something bad was gonna happen to him bc of how confident and optimistic he was. and then in the actual movie we see that something bad was supposed to happen to him (police chief dying!) but it doesn't! miles stops it! and miguel berates miles for this, says it's going to cause the universe to collapse or whatever.

there's this idea that tragedy is inherent to spidermans growth, and while it's true that some spiderpeople learn important lessons through loss, no one stops to ask, is it really necessary? yeah, maybe the chief was supposed to die. but why does spiderman have to be formed through tragedy? why do we (as heroes) have to let people die? pavitr didn't lose anyone, and he's still a good spiderman! maybe, if he doesn't suffer, he'll end up better off for it!

so while miguel is arguing for all this big picture stuff about saving the multiverse he's lost sight of what it really means to be a spiderman, he's not looking out for the real individual people. yeah it's just one person who would die, but that one person means something to someone. shrugging and saying "stuff just sucks sometimes, we can't do anything about it" is the opposite of what superheroes do. pretty obviously, miles arc is also a reflection of the struggles people face in real life, working within unequal systems, where it's easy to shrug and say "that's just the way it is" and not ask "but why does it need be this way? can't we do something about it?"

miguel is arguing that you can't have your cake and eat it too. presumably, miles and co. are going to find a way to get around that and change things for the better (and maybe that's why miles has that line about two cakes in the advisors office!)

[hinamie]

theyre soft your honour

[vibinginthebg]

Still trying to find how to draw them ✨

[poorlittleyaoyao]

from this poll

[evol-astraea]

Riveder le stelle.

Inspired by Divine Comedy, Inferno, Canto XXXIV, line 139.

[lancabbage]

All these posts and subsequent fan art showing (incorrectly...) JC with multiple whip scars across his chest. The dude was hit once with his own clan's discipline whip. Just once. We're told as much on two separate occasions as well.

The first thing he noticed was the bloody WHIP WOUND across Jiang Cheng’s chest.

Whip wound - singular...

While Wei Wuxian had never experienced this particular lashing himself, Jiang Cheng had. Wei Wuxian had wracked his brain to help him lighten that humiliating MARK, but all efforts had been fruitless. Wei Wuxian would never mistake the sight of such a scar.

Mark... Also singular...

Not only was JC only whipped once, but he then had the audacity to complain about the lasting mark on his chest to WWX... You know, the kid his mother whipped for the most insignificant of reasons? Who had multiple scars all across his back from being hit with a high-class spiritual weapon that was like lightning? Yeah, him.

Wei Wuxian, “Uh-huh, that’s right.” He felt his back, COVERED IN SCARS BOTH OLD AND NEW, and still couldn’t hold back the question he’d be thinking about, “How awfully unfair. Why is it that I’m the only one who gets beaten up, whenever something happens?”

Literally showing and telling us WWX was physically abused on a regular basis.

I swear people just conveniently forget WWX was abused in such a way and love to make JC a martyr so that he and LWJ are "the same" by "sacrificing" so much for WWX. LWJ was whipped within an inch of his life. Thirty-three lashes of the discipline whip...and it took him three years to recover! JC mostly recovered in three days, and that was only because he was coreless! LWJ is by far stronger than JC even when they both had cores lol - there's no way JC would heal so quickly if it wasn't just one whip.

With the needle securely embedded in his head, Jiang Cheng slept for THREE DAYS. His broken bones repaired themselves and his superficial wounds smoothed over, but he was destined to never fully heal—THE LASH from the discipline whip could never be erased, and his golden core could never be recovered.

Lash - singular yet again btw...

So please, stop exaggerating his scars in an attempt to make him more "heroic" or "fragile" the dude murders people for kicks, slaps his nephew around and doesn't give a shit about an innocent toddler dying in the siege he organised ffs. Get over it lmao 🤣

[ckret2]

Chapter 34 of human Bill Cipher not making friends with Stan during his imprisonment in the Mystery Shack, featuring: the tooth fairy and her dentist attempting to steal Bill's teeth in the middle of the night. Stan would care a lot less if he weren't still handcuffed to Bill. And also: Stan and Bill have a friendly chat. As you can see.

####

Even though Bill and Stan were trying to watch the same TV as they had dinner, Bill refused to sit in the living room with Stan; so he sat on the bottom step of the stairs in the entryway, Stan perched on the end of the couch, and they strung the handcuffs around the doorway with their little plastic microwave dinner trays balanced on their knees.

Both of their dinners had come out undercooked. Both of them were too proud to complain.

After picking through maybe a third of his meal, Bill decided he'd rather go to bed hungry than eat something he didn't enjoy, dropped his tray on the floor, and kicked it into the kitchen. "Hey Stanley, still glad you went with the cuffs instead of the bracelets?"

"Shut up."

Bill smirked victoriously, and looked back to the TV. "No mayonnaise in Ireland."

"What?"

Bill pointed at the screen and the rows of blank letters waiting for contestants to fill them in. "The round that just started. That's the solution."

"Oh." Stan counted out all the blank letters, frowned, and said unconfidently, "It can't be that. It doesn't make any sense."

"You're wrong," Bill said lightly; and then fell silent, running the tip of his tongue over the new gold spots on his teeth. 

When the contestants had guessed enough letters that one could hesitantly offer, "Is it... 'no mayonnaise in Ireland'?" Bill smirked triumphantly at the sound of Stan's silence. He just barely waited until the next board of blank letters flashed on the screen, and then announced, "Tip your waiter."

Stan counted the letters under his breath. "Man. I thought I was good at this, but we'd clean up if we put you on this show. No one would ever figure out how you're cheating."

Bill laughed. "Listen to you! If you were Ford, you'd just be mad that I'm giving away all the answers before you can guess. That's the great thing about you, Stanley: you don't get irritated at me for stupid little reasons. You're more fun." He took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey Ford, did you hear that?! Stan's the fun twin—!"

"Keep it down, you idiot. Ford's in the basement, he can't hear you." Stan had thought Bill was finally sobering up from the sedative; maybe not. (Then again, maybe this was just what he was like sober.) "And what are you talking about? You irritate me all the time!"

"Oh, well, I guess I just don't care when you're irritated." Bill laughed.

Stan grumbled, planted his chin in his hand, and tried to focus on Cash Wheel. It was difficult when he already knew the solution.

He tolerated the silence for less than a minute before sighing, looking toward the doorway, and demanding, "What's with you, anyway? Why are you so obsessed with my brother?"

Bill spluttered in disbelief. Stan could feel his handcuff chain jerk over. Voice even shriller than usual, Bill said, "Excuse m—Excuse me?! Obsessed? Moi?! I don't know what you're talking about!" He forced a loud laugh.

"If Ford's in the room, he's the only one you talk to, and when he isn't here you're yelling across the house for him—"

"Is it obsession to sometimes pay a little more attention to the human here I happen to know best and to whom I happen to be a teacher, muse, and friend—"

"Oh that's a load of bull," Stan snapped, "you're not any of those things! Friend? Friend? He wants you dead, you crazy—"

"Well if he does," Bill said, louder still, "then wouldn't it make perfect sense to keep my eye on the guy who killed me? There's no big mystery—"

"That's it! That's just it!" Stan tossed down his TV dinner and stood so he could face Bill properly. "He didn't kill you alone, remember? That was a two-man con you fell for! But you keep talking like Ford was the only one there!"

Without bothering to stand, Bill looked up at Stan and said, quite confidently, "Only one person killed me. You're just the place where I was killed."

"I wh...?" Stan fell silent, blinking at Bill in disbelief.

"Do you even remember what happened inside your brain? After you took my hand?" Bill asked. "You don't, do you?"

Stan glowered at Bill, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.

"I knew it." Bill laughed nastily. "We were both trapped in there when Fordsy fired the gun. Completely powerless. You were weeping and begging for a way out when the flames got too close, but there was nothing I could do by then—"

"All right," Stan took a threatening step closer, "I know that that didn't happen! I would never—"

Bill leaned back, hands raised palm out in appeasement, "Okay okay okay! All right, you got me—just embellishing the story a little—we actually had a big psychic laser battle. Imagined up all kinds of futuristic weapons. It was very 90's action movie. You did... fine, you were fine."

Stan considered that. "Ehh... sure, that sounds more like me."

"But it was all imaginary," Bill snapped. "It was a vast illusion! At that point there was nothing either of us could do to the other. We were just two victims locked inside a burning house as it came down around us. You didn't kill me, you never even had the power to kill me."

"Huh." That was all Stan said. But he kept looking at Bill, frowning distrustfully, studying him.

Bill's shoulders slowly went up under the pressure of Stan's gaze. "Oh—oh wow, okay, I see what's going on!" He gave Stan a crooked, mean smile. "You're jealous, aren't you? You thought offering up your body to be the scene of a murder finally made you a co-star instead of a sidekick! All your lives, Stanford got more attention from daddy, more attention from the teachers, more attention from the whole world... and you thought you'd finally get at least a little attention from the big bad living nightmare. Just because you let your brother shoot you in the head!" Bill laughed. "You weren't special enough for anyone else—why do you think you're special enough for me?"

Stan jerked Bill to his feet by the handcuff's chain. "I bet I'm special enough to break your face!" He dragged him into the living room, fist raised. "Let's see if you stay down this time—"

Bill scrambled back as far as the chain allowed him. "NO!" Horror filled the one ragged syllable. His free arm was raised to shield his terrified eye.

They froze, staring at each other.

Bill straightened up, forcing a nervous, rattled laugh. "Come on, I just got all this dental work done. At least give me a couple days to enjoy it before you pound it in!" He was talking fast to fill the silence. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind having a flatter face, all these bones and cartilage jutting out never did feel right—"

Stan feigned a punch.

Bill flinched.

Stan laughed at him, slapping his knee. "You big chicken! Look at you! Baw-baaawk-bgawk! HA!"

Bill tried, very hard, to explode Stan with his brain. This usually worked on people who dared try to insult Bill Cipher. "If I had one billionth of a billionth of my power, I'd have already destroyed you—!"

"But you don't, sucker!" Stan laughed louder.

Bill screamed in frustration, turned his back on Stan, and stomped upstairs to sulk.

Or, he would have, if he hadn't gotten one step up the stairs before the handcuffs yanked tight. He stumbled back, landed on his butt, and inadvertently jerked Stan down on one knee with a yelp.

Bill cast a resentful look at Stan—who was rubbing his shoulder and finally looking as irritated as Bill felt—and then he lay down and deliberately stared straight at the ceiling. "Whatever. I don't even care about your pointless mammal posturing. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I'm calm. You're just making yourself look stupid." Bill shut his eyes. "I wanna go to bed."

####

"Bill," Ford said.

Bill cracked open an eye and peered up at the form looming over his makeshift cushion bed. "Mrm?"

In a very calm voice that suggested he was not calm at all, Ford asked, "Why are you sleeping on the floor in front of my bedroom door."

"Oh. Right, you missed it." Bill yawned and sat up. "Well, you see, Stanley got us handcuffed together until tomorrow morning," he pointed at his cuffed wrist and rattled the chain, "and I tried to be accommodating, but he doesn't want to sleep in the attic and won't let me sleep in the guest room—"

Stan yelled through the door, "And Mr. Accommodating here still refuses to sleep on the sofa bed."

"—so the best compromise we've got is sleeping on the floor with the chain under the door. Not my idea of a fun evening, but." Bill shrugged ruefully, like an adult resigned to indulging the whims of a petulant child. "Do you want in? It'll take us a little coordination to get the door open, but we've already done this once, so—"

"I'm not messing with this," Ford said. "I'm sleeping in the basement. Good night, Stanley."

"Night, Ford."

Trying not to sound miffed at being snubbed, Bill said, "Hey, do you still keep your cot on that rug you used to channel me better?" He laughed.

"Nope. I burned that rug." Ford turned the corner and left.

Bill stuck his tongue out at his back. He didn't actually know whether Ford was lying. He wished he'd thought to check out Ford's study before heading down to the portal back when he'd had his time tape.

"Hey." He rapped on the bedroom door. "I thought we weren't asking Sixer for help so he wouldn't find out about the handcuffs." They hadn't actually discussed it, but he'd taken it for granted. "Now that he knows, why aren't we getting his help?"

"What, you think I need his help to solve all my problems? Ha!"

"Okay, fine. Doesn't matter to me, I'm used to sleeping on the floor." Bill lay back down and sighed.

He shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

####

Bill wasn't quite dreaming, but for a few seconds it was something very close to a dream. He saw points of light in darkness. One of his earliest, oldest memories. He'd memorized the constellations outside of his plain when his starblind species didn't even have a word for "constellations."

But these weren't those points of light in darkness. Some nearer, some farther—he could sense their distance—and all of the lights were calling to him. All of his eyes. He could see so many more than he had last night.

One was just a few inches away. He could almost reach out and grab it. 

But those few seconds of light-in-darkness were in the gray twilight between the dreamscape and the physical world, and Bill only fleetingly glimpsed them as he passed from sleep back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes.

To see a person looming over him.

And the taste of thick metal tools in his mouth.

"Hi," Bill said, for lack of anything better to say under these circumstances.

It was enough to make Dr. Illing gasp and stumble back from Bill. "Jeez." He clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry— I-I didn't want to—"

"Uh-huh." Bill sat up and took the abandoned tool out of his mouth—pliers. They'd been gently clamped around one of his canine teeth. "Not the most unpleasant thing I've had aimed at my face in the middle of the night," Bill mused, "but it's pretty high on the list." He tried to lift his other hand to feel his face for damage—and only remembered the handcuff when the rattling chain caught his wrist in place.

They both looked at the cuff. As Dr. Illing realized Bill was trapped, a change came over his face—a desperate, crazed fury.

Bill shook his head. "Ohhh, no no no—"

"Give me that!" Dr. Illing lunged for Bill, one hand reaching toward the pliers and the other toward his throat, trying to pin him against the door.

Bill shoved his feet in Dr. Illing's chest, trying to hold him back. "Stanley!" He pounded on the door with the pliers. "We have visitors, wake up!"

"It'll only take a second," Dr. Illing insisted. "You were going to give me one anyway! And that tooth is already loose! You can handle the pain! Just—hold still, I can't damage it!" He managed to get his thumb in Bill's mouth—he cringed when Bill bit down, but didn't back off—and pulled a fresh set of pliers out of his tool bag.

Bill parried the pliers with his own pair. "STAAAN—"

The door unlatched and Bill tumbled backward into the room. He twisted out of the dentist's way, slid the handcuff chain out from under the door, and skittered behind Stan.

"Wha—what's—?" Stan squinted into the dark hallway. "The heck's going on?"

Bill stretched to Stan's nightstand and grabbed up his glasses and hearing aids. "Put your face on!" He shoved them in Stan's hands, then reached back for his dentures.

Stan put his glasses on first. "What the— Illing? What are you doing here?"

Dr. Illing stood forlorn in the hallway, trembling all over, eyeing Stan nervously. "Uhhh," he said eloquently. "I just..." He gestured around Stan's shoulder toward Bill, "wanted to check her fillings. I thought one of them might be a little loose—"

Bill's cackle cut through his excuses. "Oh, come on! I know your boss put you up to this! What does the little lady want with my mouth?"

Dr. Illing's eyes widened. All he managed to produce was a squeak.

Stan said, "What 'little lady,' this guy's self-employed. What are you talking about—"

"The tooth fairy, genius!" Bill flung his free hand in the air. "Why did you think your dentist pays you to pull your teeth! He lives in a van, who'd you think was funding him?!"

"Uh," Stan said. "You know, I sort of just took his whole 'creepy sadist who bribes people to let him pull their teeth' shtick at face value." (Dr. Illing's shoulders slumped.) "But—I know things are weird around here, but the tooth fairy's gotta be fake, right? That's the stupidest..."

A fairy popped out of Dr. Illing's bag—just large enough to use an adult man's hand like a chair, with a bob cut so white it almost shone, giving off a glowing toothpaste-blue aura, wearing a necklace of baby teeth like a hunter who'd taken trophies from the bones of her kills.

"Oh," Stan said. "Well. Never mind. Just one more crazy thing in this town."

Bill's back went stiff, his eyes widened, and he curled his fists into the fabric of Stan's tank top like he was holding his shield in place. "Oh, she's here." He lisped an inhuman swear under his breath.

Ignoring them, the tooth fairy glowered up at Dr. Illing. "How did they know? What did you tell them!"

"Nothing!" he protested. "I swear! I'd never!"

"Well, you must have let something slip—"

Bill swallowed hard; but then he straightened up, let go, and stepped into the open. "Why, if it isn't Miss Pearl E. White, in the fae flesh! To what do I owe such an honor?"

Dr. Illing and the fairy both flinched. She asked, "How do you know my...?"

"Oh, Pearl. I know things you couldn't even dream of." Bill favored her with his best, widest, most unnerving grin.

And got the creeping sense that she'd stopped looking at his face, and started staring at his teeth. He pressed his lips together. "And here's just one thing I know: lady, if you were toeing the line of your treaty any harder, you'd be tripping across it. So tell me what you're doing here and what you want."

She huffed defensively, wings buzzing as they lifted her several inches in the air. "I'm well within the terms of the treaty! I haven't laid a hand on you and I'm not about to start, and I've been offering more than adequate financial compensation—"

"Oh, right," Bill laughed, "I'm sure the queen of your court would be thrilled to hear you ordered your legally-dubious helper to rip out someone's teeth in the dead of night—"

"Hi," Stan said, "question. What the hey are you guys talking about. Treaties? Queens?"

"Oh, this is all going over your head, isn't it! I'll catch you up." He turned to the side to point accusingly at Pearl, "Little miss enamel-happy here has a thing for teeth. To the extent that she started stealing them straight out of humans' mouths. She went so crazy that the local human settlements actually declared war on her court over her dental kleptomania—and the fairies she dragged into the conflict weren't any happier about it than the humans were. So now, under the conditions of a human-fairy peace treaty, she's only allowed to acquire already freed teeth that are voluntarily offered to her by their owners—which is why she started bribing children."

Pearl crossed her arms, fuming. "That's a very biased version of events. You're just trying to paint me in the worst possible—"

"Save it, sparkles! I woke up with your minion's pliers in my mouth, I'll be as biased as I want!" He shifted his attention to Dr. Illing—who seemed to wilt under the force of Bill's glare. "But she's getting deep in a gray area working with this guy. Once a tooth is handed to a dentist, he's its 'owner,' and can freely give that tooth to the tooth fairy—but him extracting the tooth puts the whole operation on shaky legal ground. Really, I think the only reason you've gotten away with this racket so long is because nobody's filed a legal challenge with the fairy court yet."

"Nobody's complained about it," Pearl said hotly.

"None of your victims know about it," Bill countered. "Hey Fisherman," he jabbed Stan's arm, "how do you feel knowing your teeth were sacrificed to the tooth fairy?"

He considered that. "Well—it was free."

Pearl crowed, "Ha!"

Ignoring Stan's reply, Bill blithely moved on: "But by any reading of the treaty, hiring a human to steal teeth straight out of someone's mouth is beyond the pale. So you'd better have a good explanation for this!"

"Yeah. I do have a good explanation." She sucked in a deep breath. "I want your teeth!" She launched herself toward Bill; Dr. Illing had to grab her around the waist to hold her back. "I'd do anything for those teeth! They're the most amazing teeth I've ever seen!" She clawed at the air, hissing and straining as she tried to reach Bill.

"My lady, please," Dr. Illing said pathetically. "The treaty—"

She aimed a swipe at his face. "I know about the stupid treaty!"

Bill stared at her, baffled. His perfectly normal human teeth? But he shook his head, smiled, and said, "Well okay, fantastic! It's been a while since I've bargained with the fae, but I'm not too attached to this body—so how much gold do you have on you, kid?"

"We're not bargaining. You already know too much," Pearl snapped. "I'm not about to get blackmailed by a human, and I'm not going back to fairy jail. So here's what's happening." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward Dr. Illing. "I'm gonna have my guy rip out every one of your teeth, and then rip your head apart so you can't talk, and the only negotiating you get to do is whether or not my guy uses the local anesthetic before he starts. So what's it gonna be?"

Dr. Illing went deathly pale and his knees shook as he verged on fainting.

"Hey," Stan waved at the fairy, "listen, I'd love to see this guy's head get ripped apart, but—crazy thing, long story—it turns out there's fifty-fifty odds that killing him could end the world. So, maybe let's talk this out—?"

Pearl gestured dismissively at Stan. "His mouth has nothing left of interest to me. He's a witness. Kill him, too."

Dr. Illing swallowed hard; but, with trembling hand, he reached into his tool bag and slowly pulled out a large power drill that definitely wasn't designed for teeth.

"Right," Bill said. "Okay. This'll be fun." If he said it convincingly enough, maybe it would be true. "Hey, Fisher—you know that spell Sixer's got on me? If I cast it on Frankie here, can you..."

"Yeah, I see where you're going."

Pearl's eyes narrowed. She pounded her tiny fist on Dr. Illing's finger. "Hurry up, before they—"

Before she could issue a warning, Stan charged at them, fist raised. Dr. Illing flinched, shielding his face with the drill; but Stan dodged around him, heading for the hall. Bill seized Dr. Illing's upper arm as he passed—"Amnesia Limina, Stupidi Digiti, Occultus Locus!"—and then Stan yanked Bill out into the hall by their chain and slammed the bedroom door.

Dr. Illing gasped. "What?"

Blue light radiated through the cracks around the door as Pearl darted around, shrieking, "Open the door, you idiot!"

There was a moment of futile scrabbling. "How?!"

Bill and Stan retreated to the entryway. Bill said, "If we get outside, we can lose 'em."

"Or get the car and run them over," Stan said.

"You don't wanna be the guy who kills the tooth fairy! She might be in the doghouse, but she's still old fae nobility. Her court would—"

Bill cut off as Stan opened the door. Instead of leading to the porch and the forest beyond, it now opened into a bone-colored cathedral, the arches and vaulted ceilings constructed out of what looked like small irregular pebbles: teeth.

Stan gaped at the vast chamber. "Where the heck...?"

Bill looked at what had once been the outside of the door; the numbers "13 / 32" were carved into the wood. "Nowhere we want to go! Shut it!"

Stan slammed the door.

"That explains how she got in," Bill muttered. "There's no time to un-enchant this exit, we'll need another one."

Stan pointed toward the living room. "We can go out the—"

"The floor room exit." Bill dragged Stan back toward the hallway they'd just left.

"What?! That's the other end of the house, you idiot, the gift shop's right through here!"

"But it's a straight shot down the hall—" Bill stumbled to a stop.

The tooth fairy was clawing her way out from under the bedroom door. She caught sight of Bill, and her wings raised in a sharp V like a wasp preparing to attack. "You!"

"Never mind."

Stan dragged Bill back toward the living room. "Now can we go—"

Bill saw the living room—that familiar dark room, the familiar walls and carpet, the familiar armchair facing the doorway as though welcoming him back, the pale blue light from the fish tank climbing the walls like flames—and Stanley Pines, dragging Bill by a chain toward this tomb—and he grabbed on to the staircase railing. "Up."

Stan jerked to a stop. "That's a dead end!" He tried again to pull Bill toward the living room. "Are you insane?!"

"Yes." Bill locked his hand around the railing like a corpse in rigor mortis. He'd break his fingers before he let go. "We're going up."

"We are not—"

The tooth fairy shot past them like a glowing blue bullet, streaking into the kitchen. Stan started, and Bill took the opportunity to drag them up the stairs. Stan finally followed.

"You're not getting out of here with my teeth!" Pearl screamed after them.

"Ignore her," Bill muttered, "she can't risk touching us and she knows it. She's powerless without her minion." He stumbled on a step and just kept climbing on all fours.

"I wouldn't bet on her self control!" Stan struggled to keep up, his cuffed wrist in the lead. "Why are we going this way? How do you expect to get out from the attic?!"

"I don't know! It just seemed like a better idea! Do I have to think of everything?!"

"This was your plan!"

"There's got to be a ladder in the storage over the kids' room, we can get down out a window."

"I don't keep ladders—!"

"Well maybe Jesús does, do you know everything in the attic?! Come on!"

Bill kicked the door to the kids' room until Stan opened it. After a short argument about who should climb to the storage loft ("I have to look, you can't see in the dark!" "And you can?! Since when!" "Since always! You didn't need to know!"), Bill scrambled up the makeshift rungs nailed to the wall while Stan climbed halfway up to give the handcuffs a little slack.

As Bill started searching for anything useful, Pearl's ranting filled the shack: "Those teeth are too good for you!"

"I think she's getting closer," Stan said. "Find anything?"

"Not yet." Bill pulled out a broken umbrella with a hooked handle. He clung to it like it was his only defense as he scanned the loft for any signs of a ladder.

Pearl went on, "They're the most beautiful, pristine, unblemished, perfect teeth I've ever seen in my life!"

Bill asked, "Are they really that great?" He'd never paid that close attention.

"Eh..." Stan shrugged and made a so-so gesture with one hand. "A little weird-looking, honestly. They've got those jagged bits in the front that make 'em look like kids' teeth?"

"Huh."

"They're pure," Pearl snarled. "I've never seen adult teeth so pure! And you're ruining them by drilling out chunks of perfect enamel for unnecessary fillings! You don't have the right to those teeth! I deserve them!"

"Hey Bill," Stan said. "So you knew my dentist works for the tooth fairy, right?"

Bill was dragging aside a large box to see if anything ladder-like was hiding behind it. "Yes."

"And you knew she goes crazy for nice teeth."

"Yes." No ladder; he moved to another stack of boxes.

"And it didn't occur to you that she'd be furious that you carved up your new teeth."

"It's in the past, Stanley! Focus on the present!"

"—and I don't even know how you got magic teeth," Pearl continued. "Fully adult teeth in a fully adult mouth, but somehow they're barely a month old! It's impossible! I could barely believe it myself until I saw your mouth with my own two eyes! I must have those teeth, as soon as possible, so I can preserve them exactly like this, who knows if I'll ever find such a novelty again—"

"Ahh, so that's it," Bill said. "Welp, nope, didn't see that one coming at all."

"She's been shouting a while without actually coming after us," Stan pointed out. "What's she up to?"

Bill paused. "Check." He lay down and stretched his cuffed arm down from the loft to give Stan enough slack to peer out the bedroom door.

Stan frowned. "Huh. Weird."

"She's upstairs?"

"Yeah. But she's just flying in a circle. With... I think a veggie container from the fridge?"

Bill sucked in a breath. "Do we have mushrooms?"

"Wh—yeah? How'd you..."

"What!" Bill half-climbed half-fell to the attic floor. "That little cheater's making a fairy ring! That's not fair!" He leaned out the door with Stan. "She's probably already made the matching ring downstairs. We have to destroy it before—"

The circle of chopped portobello mushrooms glowed white; and with a glittery puff, Dr. Illing appeared in the ring.  He coughed out a lungful of fairy dust.

Pearl pointed at Stan and Bill and screamed, "Get them!" With a murderous scowl and terrified eyes, Dr. Illing stared them down and revved his drill.

Stan yanked Bill back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Dr. Illing whined. "Aw, f—again?!"

"Just break through it!" Pearl commanded. "It's just wood! You have power tools!"

"He can't do that," Bill said confidently. "Doors don't work like that."

Stan said, "He can do that." A power tool whine announced Dr. Illing beginning his assault on the door.

"Oh." Bill considered that, eyes scanning the bedroom from one side to the other, mouth set in a grim line. "I have an idea." He pointed toward the window with his umbrella. "Stan, open the window." He hooked the umbrella over his elbow as he ripped the bedsheets off Dipper's bed and started tying the corners together.

Stan shook his head in disbelief. "You don't really expect us to climb out that window on bedsheets, do you?"

Bill dragged Stan closer and murmured in his ear, just quiet enough that their assailants wouldn't hear him over the power drill, "No, I expect them to think we climbed out the window, while we hide in the closet in the alcove. Once they're past us to check the window, we can sneak out and run downstairs."

"I don't like hiding like cowards instead of fighting. Illing's rickety, we can take him."

Bill kept tying bedsheets. He picked up Dipper's zodiac blanket, flinched, and tossed it to the floor on the other side of Dipper's bed rather than add it to his chain. "Funny—you didn't seem to have any problem hiding for a week while I had your brother prisoner."

Stan grabbed Bill by the shirt, dragging him closer. "You wanna say that again?"

Bill's hands shot up next to his face in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—"

"There were people in this shack I wanted to keep safe," Stan growled. "I'm not half as fond of you."

"Got it," Bill squeaked. He pointed toward Mabel's bed. "But I can see a dozen futures that end with our brains splattered across Mabel's dolls. I do not want to fight power tools."

There was a crack as the drill flung the first few splinters of wood free from the door. Stan's scowl deepened, but he let go of Bill and nodded.

They tied the bedsheet rope to a table leg, opened the window, and flung the rope out the window; then retreated into the alcove at the other end of the room, pulled shut the ragged curtain that hid it, and closed themselves in the closet to wait for the tooth fairy and Dr. Illing to break in.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If y'all enjoyed, I'd love to hear what y'all think! Next week we conclude both with the tooth fairy and with whatever the heck is going on between Stan & Bill.)

[redysetdare]

It's all "you guys need to understand how SUBTEXT and CODING are usually the only confirmation of representation queer people get in media especially in older media" but once that subtext and coding is used to say a character might be aro or ace coded/have aro/ace subtext then suddenly it's not a valid way to claim representation. Then it's only "headcanon" or "not confirmed" like do you all hear yourselves? It'd be so much easier to say you hate aro/ace ppl at this rate!

[slickricklj]

Jill Valentine + Chris Redfield - When you know, you know.

Bonus:

[natelia-aldelliz]

Soap & Gaz : =(

Ghost : What's going on with you two?

Gaz : Old people flirting =( it's like my divorced dad flirting with his new girlfriend in front of me all over again

Ghost : What happened?

Gaz : Well he and my mom got a divorce, which was for the best honestly, and then he got himself a girlfriend that was closer in age to me than him and -

Ghost : I don't give a shit about your parents Garrick, what happened right now.

Gaz : Oh =(

Soap : Nikolai was teaching us insults in russian, and Price told him he had a dirty mouth and Nik just smiled at him, y'know, like a smirk, and Price smiled back, ewwww

Ghost : Wait, you think Price flirting with his... friend is gross because they're old? You do know I'm not that much younger than Price, right?

Soap : Yeah, but you're not flirting with anyone, so it's okay =)

Ghost :

Gaz :

Soap : =) ?

Gaz : I can't believe you just said that. With your full chest too...

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 793: The palms of their hands

Pag 1

1: Holding hands with you rival

Pag 2

1: Grasping tightly the gratitude

They're moving forward... to the future!!

Pag 3

1: 1500m left until the mountain line!!

Pag 4

2: You're kidding....

He's coming....?

He's getting closer?

3: So odd, and yet I thought I had left him behind completely

This is “three times”, isn't it?

5: He's coming

And moreover

Pag 5

1: He's doing it while singing!!

Even though Hakogaku's Manami had left him so much behind in a moment...

Mountain King is getting closer!!

He's not giving up!!

The distance is closing!!

That's right ♪ I know ♪ If you do this ♪

Pag 6

1: The princess' wish ♪

2: Will come true ♪

3: Mountain King is amazing!! He's humming a tune!!

I heard of this, Mountain King becomes faster when he hums a tune!!

What, amazing!

The magic singing!!

I'll try singing too next time I'll climb!

4: No

It's not magic

5: For you, that “song”

Pag 7

1: it's a device to activate your power!!

2: Like a car's key

3: To carry people and luggage up a mountain road a vehicle needs both a sturdy body, small parts

4: and a powerful engine

5: For bikes, the “body”

Pag 8

1: Practice, repetition, recovery, determination, challenges- everything

2: piles up!!

3: Only someone who has worked

4: tirelessly, without rest....

Pag 9

1: Could get to this position of the mountain stage on the Inter High's first day!!

2: And he can even keep up with my “three times”!!

4: I see, so that's what it means

You piled everything up during this past year...

Pag 10

1: Ouch

2: Ah, damn, I pressed something weird

Ah....

3: Oh, I have a message

Ah, it's from Sakamichi-kun

Ah... it's from three months ago..

Hehehe, ops

4: What is it, what is it...? “Do you remember? The promise we made on the last day?”

Oh... I remember

“We said 'let's race for the mountain stage on the first day next time'”

Ah.. we did, we did

6: “Are we still on for that?”

8: “Of course”

Pag 11

1: To protect your promise with me!!

Wait, Manami-kun!!

Princess ♪...!!

2: Sakamichi-kun!!

3: Manami-kun!!

Pag 12

1: Mountain King caught up!!

He caught Hakogaku's Manami, who had attacked and opened the gap!!

2: He's not surrendering!!

Neither of them is surrendering!!

1200m left until the mountain line!!

Pag 13

1: Now another race...

2: starts!!

4: They're both taking the curve

5: while colliding against each other!!

Pag 14

1: Aaaaaa

Soooreeee

I won't surrender!!

2: They're still neck and neck!!

3: Amazing!

Pag 15

1: From the inner side!!

2: Sooreeee

Manami fell back for a moment and then forced his way forward!!

They hit each other!!

5: The trees are getting lower again

6: One more time...

Pag 16

1: Let's go, “three times”!!

Pag 17

2: Manami used the wind and accelerated again!!

Incredible, what's that!

3: What about Mountain King!?

Pag 18

1: Musical note shaped wings!?

Pag 19

1: Aaaaaaaa

2: Amazing

3: It's just like you

4: You were so desperate to catch me that you unconsciously used the wind to accelerate

5: Interesting!!

Pag 20

1: Mountain King is clinging to him!! I thought Manami had attacked but

Manami didn't get away!!

He caught up with such a weird acceleration!?

Amazing!

2: Maybe your singing is something more than a key

3: Ahhhh

5: These past three years have been fun

Huh!?

Pag 21

1: I'm glad you were here for the past three years

3: Huh... ah!!

4: Thank you

Pag 22

2: Such a close battle like this, such a once-in-a-lifetime battle like this, it could only have been with you

3: Yeah... yeah!!

“The past three years”....!!

4: No, that, I should be the one saying that, really!!

5: That's right... this is my match against Manami-kun...

Pag 23

1: Let's go until the mountain line

2: Let's give everything we have

3: Let's make the most of every second of the time we have left!!

5: 1km until the end....

Pag 24

1: It's the final climb!!

Pag 25

1: Yeah!!

Pag 26

3: Th-thank god I made it in time...

This... I couldn't miss this today

4: Sangaku said that

5: “It will be the culmination of the past three years”

[furiarossa]

Danny: Vlad, you should stop with this insane obsession over my mom, that's creepy.

Vlad: Me? An obsession? ME? While your father looks like this?