#school for good and evil book four

[lucy-the-cat]

Book Four Rewrite With Details Changed From Book Three (Agaphie and Main Character Nicola)

[discjude]

guess my favourite sge chapter challenge (impossible edition). yes i think aric shouldve had long hair he was in that cave for nine whole ass years leave me alone

[marahuyomae]

I would never let my childhood change, because these books would stay with me.

[terastalungrad]

Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.

I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?

Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine.  According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire.  According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset.  That’s the level of news you’d expect.

The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.

The first question is about the show’s angle.  Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:

So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control. And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway. Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.

Fun!  This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.

Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.

Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.

And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).

You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times. You can see this with an act like Gervais. Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.

The journalist finally addresses this head on.  It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:

But here are my favourite bits:

[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing. There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil. In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes. He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time. And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward. [...] If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs. It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked. But he didn’t have that experience in the same way. [...] Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them. I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me. I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird. On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary. And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material.  He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).

It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material.  That’s a big taboo.  I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.

Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:

It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review. And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right. Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.

[aesthetically-dying101]

Law of Attraction. (part 1)

A/N: this is part 1 of a series (gonna be three or four i believe), inspired by irl events.

Other parts: Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4; Part 5 ; Part 6.

SO, couple things to know: r. is in her second year of psychology, Nanami is in his third year of law. R is definitely very anxious, not used to being out of her element.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, reader can be seen as annoying and a bit pathetic, frustrating all around.

Do not copy nor translate my work.

You slip into the classroom, late as usual-to be fair, your eyeliner wasn't cooperating this morning, and then the bus to campus was late, so a 6 minute tardy wasn't the end of the world in your book.

The door creaks as it closes behind you, and all eyes turn. 

Great.

Just what you needed on the first day of class- you almost want to shrink away and sprint out of there.

The professor, a middle-aged man in a stuffy suit, squints at you over his glasses. He's got that "I-know-you're-not-supposed-to-be-here" vibe. You can almost see the judgement radiating off him.

"Uh, excuse me," he says, pausing the lecture. "Are you... in the right room?"

"Uh, I'm not lost, I'm just late," you say, forcing a smile-whyyyy must he speak to you. "And I'm definitely in the right class. I checked the schedule, like, five times- apologies for my tardiness."

You made a beeline for the empty seat at the back. Your boots make a soft clomp on the polished floor, your bracelets clinking together. He still watches you like you might steal something—maybe the textbook on the desk, or the air in the room. 

You're just here because it's a graduation requirement.

 A requirement you absolutely cannot avoid. Because of course, your major in psychology doesn't cover "basic law" in the slightest.

Perfect. Just the vibe you need to kick off a semester of law school with zero chill.

"As I was saying," he drones, clearly trying to regain control after the tiny disruption you caused, "the fundamentals of law—"

*-*

A little while later it's finally break time- coffee time- cigarette time- whatever you want to call it. Anyways you finally get to breath fresh air after an hour in that room.

You could really use something to wake you up, but you're pretty sure that if you drink one more coffee today, your heart might start skipping beats in protest. 

Still, it's a necessary evil.

You stepped out after the rest of the students, and ironically, followed them to the coffee machine. As you waited in the small line that had formed, a girl and her friends-your classmates- turned to look at you.

"So.. how many of those d'you have?" She asked as she gestured to your face- you had snakebites, eyebrow piercings, tongue piercing... ect.

"Huh?" You glance down at yourself, trying to pretend you didn't know exactly what she meant. "Oh... like, twenty-five? Overall."

She opens her mouth again, clearly working through some internal monologue. "That's... a lot."

You smile, your smiley piercing peeking and catching the light a bit, you can tell she zeroed in on it. You decided to be nice today-good impressions to make- and its not like your anxiety was through the roof just because she was talking to you. Nahhh, not at all.

"Yeah, it's not for everyone, but I like it." You shrugged. 

 "It's just, well, kind of intense." She said. Her friends share amused glances. You know its at your expense. Of course.

"Intensity's good," you replied. "Keeps life interesting."

You finally reach the machine, ready to make your decision—coffee or death by caffeine overdose. The coffee's already in your hand, steam rising from it like a beacon of your need to function today. You act as if it doesn't bother you that these people look at you like a freak.

It was easier anyways, to act as if it didn't matter, that their looks and comments didn't matter. 

They did.

But you could never allow them to know. 

*-*

It's two days later when you get the email: "Group assignment – Nanami Kento and Y/N, please meet to discuss your project." 

Fun. 

A couple minutes later your phone buzzed- an unknown number:

-Hello Y/N, I saw the email. Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss the project?-

You can almost hear the smugness in the message. So you replied back quickly, your fingers tapping out the message. 

-im free after 3 pm tomorrow. Lmk if that works for you-

Almost imidietly, your phone buzes again:

-3 pm works. See you tomorrow.-

Just cold, efficient, business-like. You feel a knot in your stomach, you're not always a fan of social interactions, especially with people you didn't know.

It made you nervous. 

*-*

The next day, you were sitting in the not so comfy chairs right outside the library, in the hall. Your Marshall headphones absolutely blasting some metal- Silvera by Gojira- because of course. You were waiting for Nanami, your leg jumping up and down, the chain on your pants jingling ever so slightly. And you were toying with your tongue piercing, which you probably shouldn't be doing in public, but it's a nervous habit at this point.

You've got a few minutes before Nanami shows up for the first official group meeting, and you're already wishing you could just skip the whole thing.

The music helps. 

Sort of.

Just make it through this, and it'll be over before you know it, you tell yourself. Just try to be normal. Don't screw this up.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. You hate these awkward situations. It's like your brain goes into overdrive the moment you're forced into a new dynamic.

The minutes crawl by. You check the time. He's late. By three minutes? You tap your foot faster, frustrated.

Finally, Nanami strolls into view. Of course he looks like he's just stepped out of some glossy magazine, perfectly composed, hair looking like it belongs on the cover of Vogue- you wonder how sharp his damn jawline is. He doesn't even rush to get to you. He walks calmly, his steps measured like he's not even in a hurry.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. 

"No worries." You pause your music, turning off the headphones as you put them in your book bag. 

You grab your bag, and the two of you stroll into the library, and sit at a table near one of the large windows. The sunlight streams in, making you squint just a little.

"Okay," you say, forcing yourself to speak first. "So... what do we need to do for this project?"

You're not the best at these things—social interactions with new people tend to make you feel like you're doing everything wrong, like every word that leaves your mouth could be the wrong one.

He doesn't respond imidietely, he flips open his notebook with that same deliberate calm. It's like he's prepared for everything already, and you're just the last-minute addition. You're not used to working with people who act like they already have it all together. It makes you feel... out of place.

Your eyes flicker from his notebook, his hand, to his face.

"I've already got some notes down," he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice smooth and even. "I think we should focus on how law impacts psychological theories—specifically criminal psychology."

"Right," you reply,trying not to sound too weird. "Sounds... good. I mean, I know some stuff about criminal psychology."

You both look down at your notes. A weird silence settles for a second..

"Okay, so we'll split the work then," he says finally, without even asking what you think. "I'll handle the legal side. You can focus on the psychological theories."

You clear your throat. 

"Sure. Sounds like a plan."

*-*

The first few weeks were rocky as hell.

On the outside, you're organized. You've got all your notes neatly compiled, timelines marked down in your planner like some kind of model student.Notes neatly compiled? Check. Timelines drawn out in your planner with color-coded pens? Check. A folder labeled in precise Sharpie handwriting—Nanami Kento because, apparently, you were feeling extra that day? Check. 

You're efficient. You're capable. 

But beneath that layer of outward control, you're a mess.

Your brain didn't stop. Ever.

Every time you sit down to work, you feel the weight of it all—the pressure to do things right, to not mess up, to make a good impression. You can't help it; you always feel like you're walking a tightrope.

A walking bundle of stress.

But still, you power through it. You're smart enough to know what you're doing. You get the work done. You turn in your sections on time, all carefully researched and well-written. It's just the part where you have to interact that's the problem.

Nanami. Quiet. Distant. 

Annoyingly perfect Nanami, who never said anything more than he absolutely had to.

One day, you decide to push past the anxiety and just talk. Just talk. It's so easy in your head. You'll just ask him something random, maybe about the topic, maybe something more personal. Anything to get him to engage. You approach him after class, nerves humming in your chest.

"Hey, Nanami," you say, trying for casual. "I was thinking we could—uh, maybe—grab coffee and brainstorm? You know, to get ahead on the project?"

You'd rehearsed it in your head a dozen times. This wasn't supposed to feel like walking into an active volcano.

"I'm fine with just working through the notes," he responds, voice flat and detached.

Oh. Okay. Cool. Sure. Great.

You nod stiffly, smiling like it's not eating you up inside. 

"Right. No problem."

You weren't exactly a loner. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that you were stuck in this godforsaken law class for six months. Six. Whole. Months. And all your friends? They'd already knocked this requirement out of the way semesters ago. You were the last one, the straggler, the odd one out.

The law faculty was 24 minutes away from the Psychology and Health building. You'd timed it. Twice. It meant you couldn't pop over to see your friends between classes, and they couldn't come to you. Even during breaks, you were stuck wandering the halls like some kind of ghost.

So, yeah. You were alone. Completely, totally, painfully alone.

*-*

You tried.

You really did.

For weeks, you made a conscious effort to bridge the gaping chasm between you and Nanami. You complimented his organization skills, because seriously, the man's planner was like something out of a productivity cult's fever dream: color-coded tabs, clean handwriting, even sticky notes aligned with ruler-like precision.

"Your notes are impressive," you said once, hoping it sounded casual and not desperate. "Like, borderline superhuman. Mine look like a crime scene in comparison."

He'd glanced at you, his expression unreadable, and replied with a flat, "Thank you."

That was it. No follow-up. No "oh, let me see yours" or even the faintest flicker of interest.

Just. Thank you.

So you tried a different approach. One day after class, you threw out an idea: 

"Hey, I was thinking—we could study together sometime? Maybe go over the readings or brainstorm ideas. I mean, two heads are better than one, right?"

He adjusted his bag strap and responded in his usual, maddeningly polite tone. "I think it's more efficient if we continue working independently."

Efficient. He'd said it like you were a factory line. Not like two human beings trapped in the same unfortunate group project.

You plastered on a tight smile. "Right. Efficient. Got it."

So that was it. From then on you kept things strictly professional.

Or tried to anyways.

*-*

And it got worse the third week of class.

Not Nanami specifically, but the others. You thought you'd been keeping a low profile—sitting at the back of the lecture hall, barely making a sound, trying to just coast through it. But even in the back, you still managed to stand out. You couldn't help it. The piercings, the eyeliner, the mismatched layers— only for them to all stop and stare at the girl in the corner with the combat boots and chaotic hair.

They weren't the kindest, not to you anyways. 

You kept to yourself, staying in the back of the lecture hall, even though you still stood painfully out.

You weren't stupid. You saw it. You felt it. You just... couldn't do anything about it.

And then it happened.

"Can you imagine having to work with her?"

That voice. One of the guys from the row in front of you. The one with the crisp suit and the perfectly combed hair. "Poor Nanami. That's gotta suck, huh?"

You froze. Nanami. The name hung in the air like an accusation.

"She's a freak. I mean, have you seen her?" Another voice. This one higher-pitched, feminine. She had that smug tone. The one that made your skin crawl. "You'd think someone would tell her to tone it down before she completely ruins her reputation here."

The words hit harder than you'd expected. They weren't even directed at you. They were about you.

"Yeah, Nanami's probably just trying to get through it. That project's already doomed."

"Poor guy. He's too nice to just flat-out say it, but I bet he's wishing he got paired with anyone else."

You couldn't breathe for a second. You wanted to shrink into your seat and disappear. A freak? Ruining his reputation?

Your stomach churned. This wasn't just judgment. It was pity. Pity that tasted worse than anything else. You weren't a freak, you were just... a bit different. And anyways, you fit in perfectly with your crowd, these people weren't said crowd. You weren't doing anything wrong. You were just trying to survive this godforsaken class.

But in their eyes? No. You were an obstacle to their perfect little law world.

You bit down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood. Don't cry. Don't give them the satisfaction. Don't show weakness.

You could still hear the murmur of their conversation in the background, distant but sharp.

"I don't know how he puts up with her," the guy said again.

Your hands were shaking. You couldn't even look up.

The professor's voice rang out then, snapping you back into the present.

"Alright, everyone, back to the material."

You just wanted to go home.

--

A/n: the reason that this is "short" is that i got a ... rud-ish anon ask telling me that my posts were too long so.. i hope this is better haha. Part two will be posted within the hour i think (and linked on this post)

:)

[beomcoups]

Middle Of The Night

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ex-boyfriend!San x reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: lil fluff, angst, smut, fwb, pwp

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R (18+)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: kissing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, carrying, doggystyle, swallowing, facial, multiple orgasms, reader is stubborn as hell

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.4k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are on an annual girl's trip with one simple rule: no men allowed. But it's the middle of the night, you are lonely and it so happens San is nearby. Maybe you will give into temptation with a chance of being caught, but it'll be well worth it.

𝐀𝐍: I was listening to "Middle Of The Night" by Monsta X and it made me want to write something loosely based off of it. Thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for taking this up for me at the last night 💞.

It’s 2:06 a.m., and you can’t sleep. Your body is restless, your mind thinking of a million things per second, your heart beating fast as you hold your phone. You send him a four-worded text message, knowing it’s not a good idea. But your body wants what it wants. Can you come over? You set your phone down, pacing back and forth in your room for the weekend as you await his response. When it comes to love and stupidity, it goes hand in hand for you. San isn’t the guy that you can be with long-term. You’ve been there, done that many times, yet when it’s late and you feel lonely, he’s the first person you call. Your phone buzzes a few minutes later, and you eagerly read his response. You don’t need to ask. I’m on my way.

A smile spreads across your face, and you hurry into the shower, scrubbing yourself clean with your favorite scrub that smells like brown sugar and vanilla. You hastily dry and lotion yourself, throwing on a pair of jogging shorts and a white T-shirt. San was only thirty minutes away; you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You’ve done this song and dance enough times that you don’t need to get all fancy just to see him. He’s always liked you however you want to be. This is supposed to be a girl’s only week with your best friends from high school. You take an annual trip with each other every year, making a pact to travel the world together before you settle down and get married. You took care of the travel arrangements, Shayla was in charge of the food, and Gia took care of the entertainment. You might have booked this place because you knew he would be nearby on business, but you will never admit to that… out loud anyway.  You peek out of your room, listening to hear if anyone else is awake; the only thing heard is the wind chimes swaying on the balcony. Thankfully, the rooms are nowhere near each other, so you can sneak San in without being caught. Carefully closing the door, you plop on the bed, waiting for the minutes to go by. You purse your lips together, trying to suppress your silly grin but failing miserably. He gets you excited like no one else can, and every time you want to leave him alone, one of you ends up reaching out to the other. You wouldn’t know what to categorize your relationship besides friendly exes with benefits. It’s complicated. 

Your phone buzzes in your palm, and you swipe up your screen, sitting up quickly. I’m outside. 

The anticipation of seeing him gives you chills all over. You sneak out to your balcony, looking over the ledge and seeing him park his car. He steps out with a white tank and grey jogging shorts, looking comfortable in black slides as you two make eye contact. His soft smile and awkward wave bring you back to the first time you met, rubbing shoulders with one another on a train headed to the city. “Hey,” you whisper. “I gotta sneak you in because it's girls' week.” San chuckles, knowing all too well what girls' week entails and how your best friends would have your hide if they knew he was here. You quietly leave the balcony and your room, tip-toeing down the hallway until you reach the door, letting him in quickly.  “Hi,” his murmur melts you like butter. “I missed you.”

“I know you did,” you taunt, touching his lips. 

Kissing him was like a forbidden sin, something you knew you shouldn’t be doing, but the instant gratification you felt was well worth it. Walking backward to your room, you clumsily open the door, falling on top of each other in the bed. Your hands caress each other’s bodies as you explore one another, taking off every article of your clothing. You look at him, remembering a deep affection you once had for each other that could’ve been great. A past that seemed so long ago, but here you are, entangled in bed with him.

“Is that a hot tub?”

You nod, following his gaze to the balcony, looking at the private hot tub that came with the master suite.

“Do you want to get in?”

You hop out of bed, naked and thankful that you forgot to turn it off. You slowly exit the sliding door, dipping your toe into the tub first before going right in. You feel San entering behind you, holding your waist as you guide him to the middle. The heat from the tub was no match for what you two felt for each other, the hellfire passion taking over your bodies. He grabs a handful of your ass, his slender fingers sliding to your front until they settle on your clit.

“You’re going to have a hard time being quiet tonight,” he says lickerishly.

“Oh yeah?” you smirk. “Show me.”

San groans and lifts you out of the tub, setting you on the edge. He opens your legs wide, wasting no time as he goes in on your hot sex, hungrily lapping at your sweet heat. You bite your lip as a weak way to muffle yourself, your hands grasping his hair tightly. He makes you feel so filthy and sexy, willing to risk getting you caught with his head in between your legs. He sucks harder on your clit, your arousal dripping from the corner of his mouth, and you can longer hold back. You call his name repeatedly as you ride his face, your release coming hot and heavy. 

“I want you to cum for me like a good girl, okay?” He commands, slipping two digits inside your wet cunt. “Can you do that for me?” You nod quickly, your body tingling and legs shaking as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. “I need to hear you say it.” He grunts. “Say you will.” San returns his lips to your throbbing clit, flattening his tongue against it, a trick he knew would make you undone. “Yes!” You cry out. “I will.” Your entire body shook from your release, your hand covering your mouth to hide your screams. San groans in your center, licking you clean until you can’t take anymore. Slowly rising, he kisses you passionately, your taste on his lips. “Told you,” he teases. You roll your eyes, pushing him off you and dipping back into the water. The combination of coming down from your high and the tub's heat leaves you dazed and thirsty. You tell him you will be back, drying your body off quickly before returning to your room. You throw on a T-shirt and sneak into the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, you settle on two light beers, surreptitiously shutting the door. However, to your surprise, you didn’t expect Gia to be right behind you, bumping into her. “Can’t sleep?” Gia yawns, stretching her arms out of her robe. “Y-yeah,” you stumble over your words. “Just grabbing a couple of beers to get me tired.” Before she could speak, you bolt out of the kitchen and into your room, locking the door this time. Exhaling deeply, you turn and find yourself facing San: wet, naked, and fully hard. He shouldn’t have caught you off guard, taking your breath away at the mere sight of him. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, and you’d think you would be used to it, but the sweet spot between your legs says otherwise. “You had me worried you ran away.” You shake your head, setting one beer down on the dresser while opening the other. You take a couple of gulps before he takes it away, replacing the bottle on your lips with his kiss. His hands slide underneath your shirt, squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipples. Your back is now against the wall, your body completely at his mercy. “Hey,” Gia’s voice booms through the door. You gasp in shock, and San stifles a giggle, with you hovering his mouth with your hand to keep him quiet. 

“Y-yeah,” you croak. You see the door knob rattle, and you were sure your heart would drop to your ass at any moment, but you remembered that you locked the door. You sigh in relief, watching San stroke his cock in front of you. “I was going to watch Angel on TV and make some popcorn. Do you want to join me?” You would’ve answered no immediately had San not lifted your leg and slid his tip inside you. “Do you want to join her?” He whispers in your ear. “Do you wanna watch tv, or do you want to cum for the second time tonight?” San suddenly thrusts into you, making you sigh out loud. Your hand holds onto the dresser for balance, his pumps getting deeper and making you cream. He is sick for this. ‘You better say something before she gets suspicious.” You are temporarily snapped out of esctasyland, clearing your throat to sound as normal as possible. “N-no,” you fight to speak without moaning. “I’m gonna drink and turn on some sleep waves on the speaker. Have fun!.”

“Alright,” Gia responds. “I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

He wastes no time, lifting your other leg and pumping into you harder and deeper, your nails digging into his back. Your hips move in sync with his, your tight cunt tightening around his fat cock. You could kill him right now for almost getting you caught, but you’d rather fuck him instead.

“Keep fucking me like this,” you grit your teeth. “I need your fat dick inside of me.”

“With pleasure.”

He slips out of you, carrying you to the bed and setting you on the mattress. Before you could react, he has your head deep into the pillows, taking you from behind with your hands pinned behind your back. Thanks to the excellent quality pillows, your moans are muffled, but the headboard banging against the wall is not so kind. This is why you can’t leave San alone; he opens you up and makes you want to live a little. There is no bullshit with him, and everything is on the surface. It’s one of the reasons you fell in love with him, with his fantastic dick being too addictive to let go. He fills you with an insatiable lust that can be filled by anyone else, not that you haven’t tried filling that void. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. “I’m close, baby.” Your nails dig into your blanket, your release coming quicker than you realized. A deep, body-shuttering tingle turned into shockwaves, your orgasm coming through hard. Tears of joy stain your face and pillowcase, your legs shaking uncontrollably. All you could do was whimper in the pillows, entirely at San’s mercy once again. “I’m gonna cum,” his throaty warning barely audible. “Come here.” He steps back, vigorously stroking as you plop off the bed and kneel before him. He grits his teeth as his load comes hot and heavy, coating your face and tongue. Watching him utterly helpless because of what you do to him fills you with deep satisfaction. His eyebrows furrow focused on serving your mouth with him, and you happily suck him until his legs shudder. Exhaling deeply, he pulls you up and kisses you affectionately, a lingering touch on your lips that you will remember for a long time. You wish you could say something to him at this moment. You want to pour your heart and tell San that you still have feelings for him. You want to quit this cat-and-mouse game with him and be with him for real now. No more games or sneaking in in the middle of the night. Maybe post-nut clarity will hit you later, and you’ll regret it, but at least he’ll know, right? “How long will you be in town?” San asks as he slips on his boxers. “A week,” you answer slowly. “Why, what’s up?” “Just wondering if I need to be on standby in case you text again.” You cut your eyes playfully, rummaging through your drawer and finding a pair of underwear and a facial towel. You clean off your face and prepare for a shower, but you notice he is about to leave. Usually, when you are together, he stays the night and, call it a force of habit, but deep inside, you want that again. If only you could put your pride aside and tell him how you feel. “Hey,” you saunter over to him. “Maybe at the end of the week, I could stay a couple of days, and we could hang out?” Your nervousness eats at you from the inside, but you power through. “That’s if you don’t have plans or anything, of course.” San ties the drawstring on his shorts as he contemplates your proposal. You already feel like an idiot, suggesting something more when he doesn’t respond right away. You have a virtual egg on your face now, and you just want to crawl into bed and hide until he leaves. “Yeah,” he finally answers. “I would like that. But you’re coming to me this time.”

The dark tone in his voice excites you despite the aching pain in your thighs. Noticing he is ready to leave, you peek out of your door, listening to see if Gia is still up. You can hear growls and shouting from the TV, and you motion for him to creep down the hallway, just passing the living room. Your adrenaline pumps as you get closer to the front door, determined to not get caught as you sneak out of the house. The slight summer breeze is refreshing, and the smell of rain is imminent. You gaze at San one more time, walking him to his car, trying hard to ignore the pit you will feel in your heart for missing him. “Call me if you want to do that, okay?” San murmurs. “I would love to have you to myself for two days.” “Okay.”

He kisses you goodbye, his hands cupping your face. It was the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had, your stomach filled with more butterflies than before. It took for the summer breeze to pick up for you to break you two apart, bringing you back to Earth. All you could do was smile as he drove away, going in the opposite direction he came. You aren’t sure what the future will hold for you two, but you are glad you kept your feelings to yourself for tonight. 

[captaincorgi128]

On Christmas Day of 2018, I received a paperback copy of George Orwell's 1984. I was 12 years old.

I remember the adults - aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, looking at me cautiously, as if they had handed me a live bomb rather than a book. "That's a very intense book, okay?" my father told me. "If you want, we can talk about it after you read it." 12-year-old me, with only a dim idea of what fascism actually was and an insatiable appetite for books, only nodded.

While my younger cousins and sister played with their new toys, I sat on the couch and read the book in one sitting. When I finished, I looked up to see the adults staring at me with a strange sort of fascination. "Do you want to talk about it?" my father asked.

"No." I shrugged and turned away.

The truth was, I had been expecting a happy ending. Winston Smith was the good guy, wasn't he? Why didn't he win? Evil governments always lost in the end, didn't they? How could Winston have been brainwashed into believing such an evil, awful dictatorship was truly great? After all, when my middle school history teachers talked about dictatorships, those of Hitler and Stalin, it was obvious that they were the worst of the worst. No one actually agreed with them, did they?

Then I remembered my fourth grade class talking about the upcoming election, laughing about how obviously stupid Trump's wall idea was, and how strange it felt to hear someone say Clinton was worse. I don't remember his reasoning, but I distinctly remember thinking it was dumb because what could be dumber than a giant wall around Mexico? I remembered my grandmother arguing against vaccinating children, and I remembered flat Earthers I had seen online. That day was the first time it clicked for me: people believe what they want to believe.

The years passed. I read 1984 again, and again, and again. I watched as Trump shut down the government for sake of a temper tantrum, as he was impeached, as he told Americans to inject bleach, as he politicized a pandemic and let thousands die. I didn't know about his SA scandals. I didn't know he had called Mexicans "thieves and rapists." I just knew he could not be allowed to be president again.

Yet, when 2020 rolled around, I was only 14 years old and could not vote. I settled for watching anxiously as the votes came in - I didn't know much about Joe Biden, but he was clearly a better alternative. He actually believed the COVID-19 pandemic was real, for one. So I sighed in relief as the results came through four days later: Joe Biden had been elected president of the United States.

I kept watching. I watched as Trump incited insurrection, as terrorists stormed the Capitol. I stared in horror at the TV. How could this have happened? How were so many people so delusional?

In December 2021, for my sophomore year English class, I read 1984 again. I thought of January 6th.

My classmates thought it boring, confusing, stupid. It didn't make sense. What did it matter? Who cared whether or not we knew the significance of the character of O'Brien?

I kept watching. The summer before my junior year of high school, just before I entered a relationship with my now-partner, Roe v. Wade was overturned, and I felt a sinking pit in my stomach. Six months later, a friend of mine read 1984 for that same English class, and he loved it - we had a few intense study hall discussions about the nature of doublespeak, of totalitarianism, of a surveillance state. My partner agreed, reading it with a terrified fascination.

I kept watching. I realized I was nonbinary, and I watched in horror as the Republican Party made their creeping advances to eradicate trans rights. Idly, I reread 1984. What the right wanted did seem a lot like Oceania's government, didn't it? I wondered if I'd ever be able to marry my partner, who, despite also being trans, was still the same sex as me. If Trump ran again, he'd probably win, and then what would we do?

Then, 2024. Trump won the primaries in a landslide. I turned 18 and registered to vote. In the meantime, I skimmed Project 2025's bits about banning pornography and thought of 1984 and its carefully curated sexless society, created to achieve perfect complacency. I went off to college and voted absentee, carefully bubbling in the circle next to Vice President Kamala Harris's name. I woke up on Wednesday, November 6th to see Trump had won the presidency.

It has been one week. Again, I watch as Trump proposes a Department of Government Efficiency, which sounds euphemistically horrific. I watch as he suggests Musk to head it, a man known for being as inefficient as possible. I think of the Ministry of Truth and how its entire purpose was to disseminate lies. I watch as people celebrate, mocking me and many others who had desperately voted against a fascist, a rapist, a convicted criminal, a man who would kill us and spit on our graves if he was elected to office. I think of Parsons and duckspeak, the practice of simply spitting out the "correct" propaganda the same way a duck quacked. People really did believe what they wanted to believe, didn't they? I realize Trump won because, deep down, people hated minorities more than they loved democracy.

I hope my loved ones and I will survive another Trump presidency. I hope those in Gaza and Ukraine will survive it too, along with so many others - Jews, POC, immigrants, students, disabled, Muslims. At the very least, I hope to live long enough to watch as the bigots are forced to eat their own words and come to terms with the fact they gleefully voted in their own downfall.

At the end of the day, 1984 taught me something I could not have comprehended at age 12, 14, 15, or 16, but can understand now: democracy dies not with a bang, but with a whimper.

[endiermun]

Hi! I saw your headcanons for EAH and they all look so cool! I especially love Apple’s look because it’s the same headdress as the lady in A Knight’s Tale!

Can I hear more of your headcanons?

Hello!

Thank you sm!<3 that's really sweet! I think Apple's graduation look speak for itself, a stern look for a stern queen

I think i can post here some headcanons bout main four designs

Before starting this, I would like to say that for me EAH is something like a rethinking of this whole theme with “fate” that underlies the plot as I grew up, as well as thinking about how these rules influenced the characters. Something more lyrical and somewhat tragic

Raven

Here she is, as in the canon, in her first and last years of study at the Ever After High, at the end of which she was already pretty worn out by constant pressure and problems. and her motherKHM she has an unenviable future and according to the canon she was quite wayward, but a good-natured and open girl who was ready to do a lot for the sake of her friends and valued herself.

Perhaps her development branch is a protest. Her eternal confrontation is against society and traditions, and she wages this struggle all her life. Therefore, her “punk” youth in the look does not go away much, becoming darker

She has elements of a hunter in her final outfit, something symbolic and related to her fairy tale where the hunter went against evil stepmother's orders.

Madeline

It would be nice to keep her dad's teeth in her appearance (in the case of her story it actually sounds terrible), and add more of that same carelessness and madness

Her branch is freedom. I won’t throw around joker quotes, everything is clear

Maddie has adopted some... jokes from her relatives and is generally quite free in her statements and actions, and therefore has endless freedom that even following in her father’s footsteps she is on the side of the rebels. My personal opinion - she is the strongest character in terms of energy and capabilities, but she does not fully control or realize this. By the end of school, her inner madness finally manifests itself in the look

Briar

Her fate is the most tragic, in fact, she must literally sleep through all her friends and life, “coming to life” in a new time (in the original, the sleeping beauty falls into sleep for a hundred years) and in fact, following the path of the heir, she accepts it such a decision.

Ever After Lore has an open ending, so in my head I'm inclined to think that she followed in her mother's footsteps, even though she threw the book down the well (oops, spoiler) she rushes about in choosing her fate, deeply disagreeing with the original plan, but in the end, at the last moment, she makes... such a decision. She also doesn’t want to lose her friendship with bestie Apple, even if such a decision would separate them for essentially a hundred years. Not all fairy tales have a happy ending, so her branch is humility.

Apple

It’s not easy to get the title of “most-most”, it’s even harder to keep it

Apple did it.

Her branch is stubbornness. Having a lot of responsibility, she adheres to the rule of “sacrifice one for the sake of all” and is generally very categorical towards the decisions of those who go against fate. Over time, perhaps this misunderstanding will only grow, causing her to eventually become more distant and adamant.

Towards the end her clothes will become more closed and restrained, from a cheerful, positive girl she will become calm and calculating, retaining the idea of acting for the good

Sorry for my English, hope for your understanding:)

[athena-xox]

Ever After High Slang Dictionary

Just the canon words mentioned in The Story Book of Legends, The Unfairest Of Them All & A Wonderlandiful World by Shannon Hale. Some words might now be perfect translations and some have multiple meanings that I have put down. Anyways I plan to update this with the rest of the books.

Bat wings and slug tails: things of value, typically for witches

Bewitching

Bffa: bff

Big, Bad: prefix to anything in large quantity or ideology

Book-to-school: back to school

Call Of Beauty: call of duty

Castleteria: cafeteria

Charm/charming

Charmitorium: auditorium

Charm you later: see you later

Chemythstry: chemistry

COL: evil LOL. stands for cackle out loud

Crownculous: calculus

Crownglasses

Crowning

Curses: general profanity

Deuce: general profanity

Disenchanting

Enchanting

Fableous: fabulous

Fairest

Fairy: ferry (also used for just ‘fairy’)

Fairy: very (also used for just ‘fairy’)

Fairy-fail

Fairy’s sake: I believe in my heart this is equivalent to fucks sake. General profanity

Four-and-twenty-blackbirds-baked-in-a-pie: hot

Grandma’s sake: Pete’s sake, Christs sake etc

Grimmnasium: gymnasium

Grimmnastics: gymnastics

Hatchling: baby/child

Hex/hexes: general profanity

Hexes: taxes

Hexcellent: Excellent

Hexciting: exiting

Hext: text

Hextbook: textbook

Hextreme: extreme

Hocus Focus

Home evilnomics: home ec but evil

Huffs and Puffs: bad and also good? ‘It’s huffs and puffs’ is used for both good and bad things

Hybrid carriage: hybrid car

Just right

Lost and Crowned: lost and found

Lulla-binary: binary

Mani-curse: manicure

Mirrorcast: broadcast

Mirrorize: digitalize

Mirror Lab: computer lab (I think)

Mirror Network/Net: internet

MirrorPhone: iPhone

MirrorPad: iPad

MirrorPod: iPod

Mirror station: computer?

Mother-goosebumps: goose bumps

Muse-ic: music

Newfangled: new but in a bad way

Nice as mice

Nursery rhyme: baby

nursery-rhyme school: preschool/elementary

Pea under the bed: stick in the mud

Pedi-curse: pedicure

Princess pea-butter sandwich: peanut butter sandwich

Royal student council: student council

Spella: hella

Spellbinding

Spells: used as a general ‘oh’. And general profanity

Sticky as porridge

Study Ball: study hall

The End: goodbye

Thronework: homework

Tiara-thlon: triathlon

Toadstools: general profanity

Unfairest

Venus Fairy Trap: Venus fly trap

What-ever-after: whatever

What’s Upon-ing: what’s up

Wicked

Any time there’s an ‘ever’ in a sentence but ‘after’, after it. And any time there’s ‘after’ in a sentence but ‘ever’ before it

[ckret2]

Guess who's finally satisfied with part 3 of "Human Bill Cipher (In A Purple Bedsheet Toga) Attempts To Get His Revenge On The Pines"! (Real title TBD.) Here's the masterpost for the whole fic. 7/30/2024 now edited for TBOB compatibility. When we last left off:

For all Bill's struggling, flailing, and wheezing, he couldn't do much from beneath an entire school bus's worth of Mabels and Dippers. Voice thin from crushed lungs, Bill demanded, "What—how—where did you come from?!"

The entire population of Mabels grinned. The one sitting atop the pile crowed, "I think you mean... when did we come from!" Her duplicates cheered.

"Two hours from now," a Dipper added. "Our bus gets here in two hours."

####

Two hours from then, Mabel, Dipper, and Waddles got off the bus from California and looked around the bus stop with wide smiles.

Mabel's smile faded when she couldn't spot anybody. "Huh, I thought Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford were meeting us. They got here this afternoon, right?"

"Maybe their flight was delayed?" Dipper suggested—then spotted another Mabel and Dipper running up. "Whoa, what—?"

At the top of his lungs, the new Dipper shouted, "AMBIDEXTROUS PLATYPUS FARTS!"

Mabel cracked up. "WHAT?"

Dipper gasped. "It's my password! After all the evil clones and shapeshifters and bodysnatchers we dealt with last summer, I came up with a secret password—"

New Dipper cut in, "—so if I ever came up to myself and claimed to be a time traveler, I'd know I'm telling the truth!" New Dipper and New Mabel skidded to a stop. "We have an emergency, guys. Bill is back—"

Mabel cut in, "Wait, Bill-Bill?"

"Bill-Bill!" New Mabel said. "And he's possessing a tourist and about to shoot Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford and Soos right now!" She paused. "I mean—right now, two hours ago."

New Dipper handed a time tape to his double. "You've got to go back to 5:18 p.m., take Bill down, and take his laser and this tape away from him! And then... do that again a bunch of times in a row, I guess."

New Mabel added, "I painted an X in the future so you'll know where to tackle him in the past!" She offered a can of red spray paint to her double. "Here, you'll need this."

Dipper dropped his duffel bag and shrugged off his bulging backpack. "We don't have any time to lose! We'll come back for our luggage later. Let's go, Mabel!"

She dropped her bags as well, and the four twins sprinted for the Mystery Shack with Waddles chasing as fast as he could.

Until Mabel skidded to a stop. "Hold on! We've got a time thingy, right? We don't need to hurry! We can just jump back to 5:18 from any time."

"Oh, yeah." "That's true." "Good thinking, me!"

The original twins retrieved their luggage, and the group headed toward the shack again at a leisurely stroll, with Waddles trotting happily between the two Mabels. The evening weather was lovely.

####

"What about you, Bill? What are you doing here?" Dipper demanded.

"Yeah," Mabel added, "I thought you were stuck in that dumb book we chucked into another universe! What happened to that whole thing?"

Bill let out as heavy a sigh as he could manage when pinned down by a ton of teenagers. "Well..."

####

This is where Bill's explanatory flashback would be, if he were cooperative.

He wasn't cooperative.

####

"You actually thought I was ever really gone? Boy, look at gullible over here!" Bill laughed.

The Dippers and Mabels exchanged a collective look, and without a word, shifted so more of the pile was weighing directly down on Bill.

He wheezed. "No sense of humor."

"I've got his time tape!" one Dipper shouted, holding it above the crowd.

"And I've got the laser," a Mabel called, waving it in the air. "Can I keep...?"

Ford gave her a stern look and held out his hand. She sighed and handed it over.

"Okay, Mabel Number One here!" another Mabel shouted, shaking her spray can. "Everybody move forward, I've got an X to mark!" The group obligingly shuffled forward, prompting more displeased grunts from Bill. Mabel considered his feet thoughtfully before spray painting an X where she estimated he'd been standing before.

"Not gonna lie, I thought we were goners," Soos said. "That was crazy! How did you two do that!"

Bill snapped, "By pulling the kind of time loop that ought to have Time Baby down here gumming you idiots to death. I throw one little party and he makes a personal trip to the 21st century just to invade my pad, but two brats pull off as clear-cut a paradox as you can imagine..."

The Dippers and Mabels worked through the logic of their own rescue as they realized they wouldn't have known to come if they hadn't told themselves. Dipper said, "Maybe this is actually the altered timeline, and in the original timeline you did kill them and we had to steal your time tape to change the past?"

Ford took a time tape from a Dipper who had two. "Although that does beg the question of why the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron isn't here to investigate all these time loops. Or how you got so many of yourselves here at the same time. Has this tape been tampered with...?"

Bill said, "Yeah, smart guy, everybody knows time tapes are designed to prevent overlapping time loops! So how are there so many kids here? The mystery must be killing you!" He laughed. "I could tell you, if you let me up."

Ford shot him a dark look. "You know I won't."

"I know." Bill sneered at Ford. "Just wanted to make sure you remember all the things I could tell you. Your loss."

Bill's eyes looked the same as they always had—maybe a little jaundiced, a little too human, but those were still Bill's eyes. Ford had never seen such wrath in his eyes before. 

He looked away. When he properly met the woman Bill was possessing, he wouldn't want to remember Bill glaring through her eyes.

####

While the adults found something to tie up Bill, the Dippers entertained themselves by journaling and the Mabels by decorating each other's faces with scented markers.

Without anything better to do, Bill twisted his head to watch the kids. "Hey. Can I get some art?"

The nearest Mabel looked at him, looked at the closest Dipper (who considered the odds that this was a trap, and shrugged warily), and looked back at Bill. Logically, he might be trying to get her hand close enough to his face for him to bite it and drink her blood or something—and ethically, the alien menace who'd threatened her family didn't deserve nice things—and pettily, she didn't want him to have nice things—but then, when she tilted her head just slightly, rather than seeing Bill Cipher, she saw a vast expanse of unblemished face skin just begging for artwork. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter if a murderous monster got to enjoy the benefits of scented markers, as long as Mabel got to enjoy the benefits of making art.

Anyway, who else's face was she gonna draw on? Dipper had already turned her down and her duplicates were running out of facial real estate. "I don't see why not! What do you want?"

"Draw me."

Mabel grimaced. "Ooh, that's gonna be a no. Grunkle Ford says drawings of you are magic?"

Bill sighed loudly. "Sheesh, you sound as paranoid as him. What are my options?"

"I specialize in tiger masks, butterfly masks, rainbows, unicorns, spiders, aaand flowers!"

"Fine, gimme a butterfly."

"Colors?"

"Dealer's choice."

"Oooh." Mabel considered his face, grabbed her banana, cherry, and raspberry markers, held them from the very butt so Bill couldn't reach her fingers, and got to work. But Bill didn't try to bite her. He just stared off into space stoically.

He did start biting when the adults returned to secure him. As they tried to restrain his limbs, he kicked, clawed, struggled, flailed, and snapped his teeth—but without the advantage of the time tape and a gift shop of projectile souvenirs, he only wore himself out. By the time they determined him sufficiently immobilized—hands cuffed behind his back, up arms chained to his ribs, knees and ankles tied up—and the twin pile freed him, Bill was gasping for breath, eyes squeezed shut. He didn't even attempt to sit up. Stan and Ford tried not to look too close at the trembling human form collapsed on the stony floor.

"And the final touch..." Soos took off the fuzzy pink belt he'd been wearing all day and wrapped it around Bill's waist. "Yes. Finally." He paused. "Hey, I was right, this belt does look good with that bedsheet. Compliments the pink in your butterfly, too!"

Bill opened one eye. Voice strained, he conceded, "Doesn't look bad."

"Is that unicorn hide? Excellent work." Ford clapped a hand on Soos's shoulder. "A few moonstones and mercury, and Bill will be trapped inside that body until we find a way to extract and contain him."

"He will? Hey, whaddaya know!" Soos beamed. "Fashionable and functional."

Ford tried to ignore Bill's gaze on the side of his head—attentive, calculating, scheming. "I'll... get the supplies and be right back."

The Dippers and Mabels consulted the tally marks on their palms, added one more each with Mabel's markers, arranged themselves in a semicircle behind the X marking Bill's spot, and all returned to the past except for two. The Dipper and Mabel with twenty-five tallies high-fived. "Yes!"

Dipper sighed, "Finally. I thought we were gonna repeat the same fifteen minutes forever."

Stan—currently guarding Bill with Ford's laser—glanced over at Dipper. "Hold on. If you kids have been doing some kind of crazy time loop, then that means you've been tackling this creep over and over for...?"

"Over six hours," Dipper groaned.

"We ate my last pocket bus snacks ten loops ago," Mabel said. She held up her hand. "On the bright side, I smell so delicious now?"

Dipper sniffed his own hand's tally marks. "Ew."

"Haaa! You wanted the black licorice marker, bro!"

Wiping his palm on his shorts, Dipper said, "And we got up at five to catch our bus. We've been up almost twenty-one hours. I'm completely drained."

"Pffft!"

Stan, Soos, and the twins turned to give Bill a wary look.

"'Oh no! I'm a delicate little human! I've gone half a day without a REM cycle and three hours without glucose! How can I function like this?'" His laugh was a wretched, hacking cough. "It's pathetic how weak you are."

"You're one to talk," Dipper snapped. "These weak humans took you down! Again!"

"Wow, amazing, if you pile five thousand pounds of dead weight on top of a body made of calcium sticks wrapped in raw meat, it can't get up. Congratulations on learning how gravity works!" Bill rolled onto his back, and—with a laborious effort akin to a kid in gym class attempting one sit-up too many—managed to heave himself up to a sitting position. "You got lucky—" he cast a dirty look at the X spray painted on the ground, "—but luck changes." His lower butterfly wings crinkled as a smile twisted up his face. "I escaped death itself. Do you really think a bunch of stupid sub-centenarian children like you can stop me from escaping a little rope and chains?"

Stan bristled. "What I think is you've got a butterfly-shaped bullseye in the middle of your face and I've got a laser with your name on it if you don't shut up!"

Mabel gasped quietly. "My butterfly."

Bill laughed at Stan's anger, mouth open, all teeth. It seemed like far too many teeth, coming from a creature that shouldn't have had a mouth. "Oh, that's precious! Sure, go ahead, Stanley, let's find out what'll happen—!" Bill froze as Stan shoved the laser between his eyes.

"Maybe I will!"

Dipper flinched, "Grunkle Stan, what if it's a trap—"

Bill headbutted the barrel hard enough to knock the laser out of Stan's hand; and even with his body restrained in four place, with an unexpected burst of grace he was back on his feet. Bill's voice plummeted to a demonic roar that hardly seemed to fit inside the short human body. "Do you want to see what I can do?! You wanna see what I'm still capable of?! FINE! I'll SHOW you what... wh-what..."

Bill's eyes rolled back and his face went slack.

He flopped face first to the ground.

The humans stared. Stan asked, "Is, uh. Is this what you're capable of?"

The back of Bill's head didn't answer.

Soos rolled him onto his back and tugged up one eyelid. "Guys, I think he fainted. Is that a good thing, or...?"

Mabel poked his arm. "This again? You'd think he'd have learned to grab an energy drink by now."

Dipper said, "Maybe he's still trying to drink them with his eyeballs." Mabel laughed.

Stan grunted. "I'm fine with whatever gets him to shut up a few minutes."

Dipper gasped. "Wait—if we let him escape this body, he could be anywhere! The belt! Grunkle Ford, the moonstones!"

He and Mabel ran to find him. 

####

Stan said, "I say we sit him up, shoot him in the back of the head, and bury the body right in here." Dipper and Mabel stared at him with wide eyes.

"Believe me, Stanley, I'd love to do that." (Dipper and Mabel turned their wide-eyed stare on Ford.) "But all that would accomplish is murdering some innocent woman who was probably unlucky enough to pick up his book, while Bill himself escapes. And that's assuming he hasn't already left her brain!" It had taken almost a minute after Bill fainted for Ford to coat the belt in mercury and duct tape on several moonstones. "Kill her and he'd just come back wearing another poor victim."

Stan considered that. "Could he escape her brain if we buried her alive?" (Dipper and Mabel turned again to stare at him.)

There were no good solutions. There was no point in being cruel enough to ask Fiddleford to make a new memory gun so they could retry the stunt they'd pulled during Weirdmageddon, since getting shattered into psychic dust had clearly only slowed Bill down; and setting the gun to erase "Bill Cipher" from the puppet's brain would just erase her memories of Bill rather than Bill himself. They could try going into the victim's mindscape after Bill, but all the tricks Ford knew to capture dreams or exorcise spirits only might work on an entity like Bill—or might let him hop into one of their heads. 

First, they needed to make sure Bill was still in this body; and if he was, they needed something foolproof to extract and destroy him.

And until then, they had to contain him.

####

Melody turned toward the opening vending machine door, relief on her face. "Oh, Soos! There you are! I was getting worried. I've been looking for you for twenty minutes, the gift shop looks like a tornado hit it..." She trailed off, taking in the sight of Soos and Stan carrying an unconscious, tied-up woman wrapped in a bedsheet with a butterfly on her face, and Ford training a laser gun on her. "Please tell me that's some kind of evil fairy queen and not an actual tourist."

"Worse, it's Bill Cipher!"

Stan flinched. "Soos—"

"Yeah, he took over this tourist in a cool toga, I think he's been staking out the Shack the last few months with time travel, and he tried to kill the Pineses—Dipper and Mabel had to stop him and..." Soos looked at Stan. "Oh, hold on, was I not supposed to share that?"

"Of course not!"

Ford said, "This is a very delicate situation, and the more people get involved, the less we can control it. We can't tell anyone—"

Abuelita stuck her head through the living room "Employees Only" door. "Mijo, here you are. Who is this? A... guest?"

"Oh, hey Abuelita. This is Bill Cipher—you know, the triangle guy? Yeah, we caught him trying to kill us, so we're gonna keep... him..." Soos trailed off under Stan's glare. "Oh, come on! You can't expect me not to tell Abuelita!"

Abuelita gave Bill's unconscious form a calm, considering look, said, "I will cook an extra serving for dinner," and let the door swing shut.

"Wait wait wait," Melody said. "Triangle guy Bill Cipher? Like, turned-us-all-into-statues Bill Cipher?" She'd been unfortunate enough to be on a weekend trip back to Gravity Falls for a date with Soos when Bill had invaded. He'd been in her nightmares ever since.

Soos shot Stan an apologetic look, then said, "Yeah, that one."

"So, have you called the police yet? Or—or the FBI, or...?"

"It's cool, we've got it all under control," Soos said. "We're gonna lock him in the cellar."

"You're what?"

"Yeah, I've got a mattress down there he can take. There's a TV, the pinball machine... Do you think Bill likes pinball?"

"He won't be here long," Stan reassured Melody. "I've got some out-of-state 'connections' from a previous 'business venture' who have 'resources.'" He'd hooked his arms through Bill's armpits to free his hands up to make finger quotes. "I'm calling in a 'favor.' They can hold him somewhere 'comfortable,' until..."

Firmly, Ford said, "Until we've come up with something more permanent."

Stan nodded. "Once we're sure we trapped him in this girl, he'll be outta here."

Soos said, "Oh, hey—do you think we might need to close the Shack tomorrow? I should go tell Wendy. Be right back." He handed Bill's feet to Ford and headed to the living room.

"Oh no you don't, hold on!" Stan dropped Bill's head on the floor and followed Soos.

Ford looked down at Bill in dismay, trying to figure out how best to pick him up without risking Bill trying to bite out his throat again if he woke up. From the stairwell, Mabel and Dipper peered around him to help consider the predicament; Mabel said, "Just drag him." Dipper nodded.

Melody screwed up her face, but sighed in resignation. "I've got it." She helped heave Bill back up. "But I want a really good explanation why we aren't letting the cops handle the dangerous superpowered criminal."

Ford said, "Melody, I know you haven't lived here long. But have you seen the police in this town?"

Melody sucked thoughtfully on her teeth. "Fair point. But what about the government? If there are actual aliens on the planet, surely there's some kind of Guys In Black or X-Folders squad to deal with them?" She paused at the gift shop exit.

 Mabel got the door open for her. "I think we brain damaged the last guys in black that came to town."

Dipper laughed. "Yeah, they could barely handle zombies. I don't think they'd have any idea how to handle Bill."

"Precisely," Ford said. "They don't know his abilities like we do. Once he's out of our hands, we wouldn't be able to ensure he's properly contained." Voice lowered, he added, "Besides—I'm afraid involving the government might play right into his hands. He's been pulling the strings on human politics for millennia, and there's no way to know who secretly answers to him—"

Melody made another face. "Yeeeah, no, nah, I don't believe in any of that... 'shadow government' conspiracy theory stuff."

"And in most contexts, your skepticism would be wise." Ford and Melody let Dipper and Mabel haul open the cellar doors, and then carefully descended the stairs. "But where Bill's involved—there are few facets of human history that haven't been drawn into his tangled web. He's a master manipulator, and our world has been his pet project for millions of years. For crying out loud, he even helped fake the moon landing—"

Flatly, Melody said, "The moon landing."

"Yes!"

"How do you know this."

Ford and Melody dropped Bill on the bare mattress, and Ford gestured impatiently at him. "He admitted it himself! When he was busy boasting about how he helped 'inspire' Kubrick's work."

Melody planted her hands on her hips. "So, you're telling me a 'master manipulator'... told you he faked the moon landing... and... you believe him?"

Ford stared at her.

####

"Hey Wendy," Soos said, fiddling with office phone's cord. "This is Soos. Your boss. Listen, I know you have a shift tomorrow, but uh, you might not need to come in, okay? I mean—maybe. It depends. Still figuring it out. I'll call you in the morning." He glanced at Stan, who sharply nodded.

Wendy said, "Oh? How come?"

While Stan furiously mouthed Soos do NOT tell her anything or I swear— Soos said, "Uhh, Shack might be closed tomorrow, that's all."

"Oh, is it for like family reunion stuff?"  Tone brightening, she said, "Hey, is it cool if I swing by anyway? I wanna come say hi to Dipper and Mabel."

Soos frantically waved a hand. "Nooo, you can't! For. Reasons."

Wendy was silent a moment. Soos bit his lip. Wendy said, "For... weird scary paranormal stuff reasons?"

Soos looked at Stan for guidance. Stan shrugged and made a so-so gesture. Soos said, "Yeah, pretty much."

Wendy laughed. "Oh man, seriously? Give the Pines heck for me for getting into something the first day of summer vacation. Text me every half hour so I know you're alive and I don't have to come over with an axe."

Soos sighed in relief. "Thanks, Wendy."

As Soos was hanging up, Ford barged into the office, Dipper and Mabel behind him. "Stanley, this is urgent. As soon as we've dealt with Bill, we need to visit the moon."

Stan processed that and grinned. "All right, I'm game!"

Ford's watch beeped, startling him. "What—oh! That's right, I set a reminder for us to go..." He paused, looking at Dipper and Mabel. "... Pick you two up from the bus stop."

Dipper gasped. "Right! Mabel, I almost forgot! We'll be here any minute! We've got to go tell ourselves to stop Bill! Where did the time tape go?"

"And the spray paint! I gave myself spray paint—"

"Kids—hold on a second." Stan nudged past Ford to kneel in front of Dipper and Mabel. "Listen. I know this isn't how you wanted your vacation to start—especially after we spent all year convincing your parents there won't be any more apocalypses this time—and, I'm sorry. But as soon as you get back from the bus, treat it like you just got here for the first time. We'll say hi, we'll have dinner, you two can make plans to visit your friends tomorrow—and we'll keep all this as far from you as possible."

Dipper started in first. "But, Grunkle Stan—"

"What if you need our help?"

"We've defeated Bill more times than anyone else—"

"And we just saved your lives again!"

"Whoa, easy!" Stan put his hands on their shoulders. "I know you can deal with him—but you shouldn't have to. You're kids, it's summer, you're here to have fun."

"Stan's right," Ford said. "We've already contained Bill—so try not to let him weigh on your mind."

Stan gave them an encouraging smile. "Let the old guys clean up this mess, okay?"

They didn't answer. Instead, they exchanged a glance, and then leaned in to fling their arms around Stan's neck. 

"Hey, hey! C'mon, kids, what's..." His voice caught on a lump in his throat. He wrapped his arms around Dipper and Mabel and squeezed them tight. After a moment, Ford joined in.

They didn't separate until Soos leaned in to crush their lungs.

####

As they ate dinner together around the large living room table, the Pines didn't talk about Bill. They talked about who they wanted to catch up with in town and what events they'd participate in this summer, and the kids' last semester of school, and the places Ford and Stan had traveled, and where in Gravity Falls the kids might be able to continue their judo lessons (by the sound of it, nowhere), and what Stan and Ford remembered about taking boxing as kids, and Dipper's indecision over what electives to take next year, and Mabel's enthusiasm over the parkour classes she'd started at a gym near home.

They didn't talk about why the kids had decided to pick up sports that could help them fight or escape. They didn't bring up all the times Dipper had called Ford after recurring nightmares of being pulled out of his body and left adrift. They didn't comment on Soos and Melody's absence from dinner as they took first watch over the cellar. They didn't ask questions when Stan left the living room table to take a call in the kitchen from his "connections." They didn't speculate on whether Bill might have escaped his puppet's body during the precious seconds between when he passed out and when they completed the barrier belt. They didn't talk about fear.

Down below in the cellar, the unconscious body didn't stir.

[lady-raziel]

Cna i... Can I ask what the beef is with M Night Shyamalan?

fair warning, this is a self-indulgently long post. but if you endure the page break, you may find the story entertaining.

a long time ago...in a small indie comic book shop in downtown Philadelphia...

picture this. it's circa 2016. my hyperfixation at the time is DC Comics-- the Flash specifically. I like the Flash, but I really like his nemesis, the Reverse Flash. This guy's gimmick is that he has the same powers as the Flash, but he's also evil because he used to be a Flash stan and his idol didn't validate their parasocial relationship when they actually met in person, and now he just wants to kill the Flash instead. It's a long story. Reverse Flash has died many times. He's also from the future, but that's not the important bit right now.

Anyway, despite being one of the Flash's main enemies, there are not that many comic book issues that feature the Reverse Flash for some reason. My main hobby at the time of this whole ordeal is to go to the local comic book shops and search through the bins of back issues to find anything with the Reverse Flash in it (bonus points if he's on the cover, but at a certain point you can't be picky). I'd been fairly successful at this, and had even been able to avoid buying too much off Ebay as I really didn't care too much about the condition or grade of the comics. The comic book shop in downtown Philly I was in on the day of the Incident was one I'd been to before, but not in a while as I went to school out in the suburbs and didn't leave that general area too much.

So. I enter this shop, and it's not too busy. That's a good thing as it's not a large space and if there were too many people it would have been very difficult to navigate around the displays of Funko Pops and tables of back issues. However, as I was soon about to find out, it doesn't matter if there's only one other person shopping at the same time as you if that person is the wrong person.

I make my way to the back where all the big boxes of old comics are, and scan the rows alphabetically to find the 'Fs.' I see 'Firestorm,' and 'Fantastic Four,' and all the others...but there, right there, where the Flash comics should be...there's a guy. Standing there. In the way.

Now, that's alright. He just seemed to be perusing randomly and wasn't actually looking at the Flash comics specifically (my Flash comics), and I can just go look at the action figures or something until he moves to another section of the shop. No problem. I mean, it's one box of comics, Harold. How long does it take to look through it? 5 minutes? No, all I have to do is wait a little bit and then I can examine those 1980s Flash comics with my own grubby little paws.

So I do a loop of the store. I examine the Funko Pops (they all look the same), the t-shirts (only Hot Topic quality), the new comics (Superman #1? How many times are they going to reboot this thing?), and even the super expensive vintage comics up on the wall (no Reverse Flash here, and it would still be beyond my price point anyway). But when I finally make my way back to the back issues, the guy...is still there. He hasn't moved. And now he's not even pretending to look at the comics anymore.

Now, to my horror, he seems to be having a full-on conversation with one of the store employees right on top of my box of comics, and neither of them seem like they plan to end this discussion anytime soon. You may be asking at this point, "well Raz, if you wanted to look at the comics where they were standing, why didn't you just ask them to move out of the way?" You're right. I could have done that.

But problem. I have social anxiety. And sometimes it gets very bad about very small things. So while it would have been entirely reasonable to ask these two men to move their conversation elsewhere, the crippling social anxiety made it so that asking for that very small and reasonable thing would have been akin to asking these guys if they would set me on fire right here right now, please and thank you. It wasn't gonna happen. My only option was to hover uncomfortably 6 feet away, pretending to go through the back issues systematically and hope they picked up on what I was doing and moved out of the way when I got back to the 'Fs,' or give up and suffer an hour and a half on the SEPTA train back home with nothing to show for it.

now, i've never had a conversation with famous filmmaker and director M Night Shyamalan. I didn't even know what he looked like at the time, so when all this happened I thought he was just Some Guy who in his unawareness was keeping me from completing my mission. Maybe he's a really engaging conversationalist and talking with him causes you to not notice anything going on around you. That may even be the case-- as neither the Twistmaster himself or the besotted store employee seemed to notice I was there. But I WAS there. And my frantic silent social cues were being "returned to sender," unread.

Meanwhile I was enduring a level of internal turmoil on the level of a character in a Greek tragedy. This was my crucible. Surrender, or do something I was honor-bound not to do. Was this the meaning of an impossible choice?

It was only after almost 15 long, agonizing minutes and two more laps of the store on my part that finally, finally there was a breakthrough. Unaware Man (for this would be Shyamalan's superhero code name) and Employee-Bro had moved to the cash register, as the former had found something he wanted to buy. With speed rivaling the Flash himself, I descended on the fated box of comics like a plague. It seemed that the day had not been lost after all.

However, like any film from the man himself, there was to be a final twist to this tale. One last turn of the knife. You might be thinking-- "And it turned out that there weren't any comics in the box you wanted to buy after all, rendering this whole ordeal meaningless, right? Like any tragic hero you endured the terrible trials only to discover that the treasure you sought was a hollow fantasy of your own creation, and this all could have been avoided if you had not fallen prey to the follies of man?"

No. The problem was-- I did find several comics in that box that I wanted to buy. I even found one with the Reverse Flash on the cover. But now that I had found my prize, I faced a new, even greater challenge, which was somewhat an extension of the old challenge, but to the extreme.

I now had to get Employee-Bro to ring me up so I could leave this cursed place, but here's the kicker: I had to do this while he was still utterly engaged in discussion with Unaware Man and thus blind to the outside world. I had come out of the frying pan and into the fire, because now it wasn't like I could just go home and take only a feeling of defeat with me. My precious comic book finds were on the line, and what was I going to do? Just put them back in the box and leave?

Unfortunately, I was committed. I would have to stand reasonably out of the way of Unaware Man's personal space yet close enough to indicate that I was, yes, in line to check out my purchases. And goddamnit, I was going to do this until all of us died of old age or the world ended.

I kind of lost all sense of time at that point. It could have been only a few minutes. It could have been five hours. All I know is that it was long enough that I wished for the sweet release of death, because then at least I'd be able to lie down. How it eventually went down was that Employee-Bro rung up Unaware Man (because really, processing a credit card transaction and signing the receipt only can take so long), and the two continued to talk as Employee-Bro gradually gained awareness that I Was There Too, and multitasked to check out my items while remaining totally focused on his other conversation and not speaking a word to me.

And that was it. I was free, from the physical prison of the comic book store at least. But again, like a Shyamalan film, this was in reality only the end of the second act. Because as I walked through the streets of Center City Philadelphia and rested my head against the smudged window of the SEPTA train on the way home, I started to descend into the mental turmoil of the question, "wait, who was that guy? Was he like...famous, or something?"

If you've ever been to a comic con or spent enough time in a hobby shop, you know that sometimes Nerd Bros can get really deep into conversation about these sorts of things. Many of them even have lots of opinions on films, and will be happy to share them in detail unprompted. So it wasn't entirely unreasonable for me not to realize in the moment that what was happening wasn't just "Nerd Bros Being Dudes."

But the more I thought about it, the one-sided adoring dynamic between Employee Bro and Unaware Man did seem unusual. And in the bits of their conversation that I had been forced to endure, hadn't one of them mentioned something about...filming locations? What was that about? Nobody in their right mind films stuff in Philly unless they're making the 86th Rocky film or the like.

It was a Google search of "movies filming in Philadelphia" that returned several results of articles talking about how location scouting was going on in the area as part of the production of a long-awaited sequel to the 2000 film Unbreakable, a undercover superhero sleeper hit. Unbreakable, a film set in Philadelphia, written and directed by famous filmmaker M Night Shyamalan.

Shyamalan. SHYAMALAN. the man responsible for 2010's The Last Airbender. it was HIM. he was not only the man who originated the (still unbroken!) curse on the Avatar franchise, but also the man who had ruined my day. Thoughtlessly. Carelessly. Not by massacring a beloved children's television franchise, but by being unaware. Inconceivable.

This was horrific. It wasn't even like I was the Reverse Flash or any other famous superhero nemesis, who had a compelling backstory causing their undying hatred of the hero. Instead, I now had a narrative foil who barely even fit that description, because chances are he hadn't even taken notice of my existence the whole time! This was my supervillain origin story, and it was his normal day!

It was at this moment I swore an oath. I would not forget this terrible day of inconvenience that was partially caused by my own social failings. I would dedicate my life from this point forward to slightly narrowing my eyes and shaking my head disapprovingly when I saw mentions of Shyamalan or his works online. I would color any opinions I had of his films with the thought, "but remember that one time he was kind of a dick to you without even meaning it? what was up with that?"

and that is the tale of my tragic encounter with M Night Shyamalan. To this day, my only solace is that my epic origin story turned out more narratively coherent and with deeper substance than any other film made in the Unbreakable saga, including the one he was location scouting for at the time this happened. Shyamalan can write twists all he wants, but no one is better at that game than karma itself.

-END-

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Polly Jolly Christmas but as a Sanders Sides AU

Logan is an architect, Janus is a lawyer, and Roman is an up and coming singer/songwriter.

By some chance of fate, all three of them end up in the same small town to visit their girlfriends for the holidays. The same small town where a new hotel is meant to be going in, possibly threatening the income of one of the five or six bed and breakfasts already there.

Logan is confronted by his girlfriend upon arrival because his plans were apparently being used for the hotel, the "How could you do this to me?" lecture ensues and Logan can't get a word in edgewise to explain that the plans in question were stolen months ago, that she knew some of his plans were stolen, he told her about that. He tries to take her hand as she turns around and slaps him across the face.

Janus arrives and is immediately torn into by his fiance because another lawyer at the firm he works for is representing the Evil Hotel Guys, and it doesn't matter how much he tries to explain he didn't know about it, it's not his case, why would he? It doesn't matter that he tries to offer to represent her and her cause, she still throws the ring at him and storms off, leaving him speechless.

Roman has been planning this for a few months. He was going to surprise his girlfriend by being one of the performers at the Christmas and pulling her up on stage and proposing. But part of it being a surprise meant being a little cagey about the details of his holiday plans, though he did at least promise he would absolutely see her Christmas day. He arrives in town a few days before Christmas to get everything in order for The Big Day, and despite his best efforts of remaining incognito, is seen by his girlfriend's high school sweetheart, who is somehow convinced that he's here with the Evil Hotel Guys and tell her so. The girlfriend literally hunts Roman down to confront him about it, Roman ends up having to tell her about his plans to surprise her to convince her he's not part of any marketing scheme to get everyone to want a new hotel. This somehow still makes her angry, and she tears him a new one for making the proposal all about him, and goes off about how unsupportive he's been, and decides that's a good time to announce she's been writing her own music too, that she was planning on performing at the Christmas Parade, but couldn't because some arrogant no-name was coming into town and turned out to just be him. Roman is shocked and tries to tell that of course he'd back out for her, that he would have helped her if he'd just known, if she just told him. She declares he should have Just Known. Roman quietly leaves without telling anyone to give her the chance to Save The Day by being the last minute fill-in. Sure it might ruin his reputation there, but at least she'll be happy. He leaves a recording of the song he wrote for her behind and immediately hawks the ring he'd bought to cover his cost of now wasted travels.

Janus and Logan meet first in the lobby of Bed and Breafast Number Four. Logan is on the phone, trying to figure out how he can get his stolen plans back, frustrated and nearing tears, visibly bruised from being stuck. He hangs up, ready to break down when Janus apologizes for eavesdropping, but he's a lawyer and maybe he could help. Logan explains the situation and Janus is immediately pulling up his laptop to get things going. Logan tries to tell him, it's fine, it's Christmas, he's sure Janus plans. Janus laughs bitterly and explains that no, he doesn't, and briefly explains the fued with his ex-fiancee.

That's when Roman stumbles in, visibly upset, and obviously trying not to breakdown, asking about availability. He's informed that they're booked full due to the concernt happening at the Parade and Roman musters up a smile, and says something about a friend of his performing there, before walking away. He collapses into a chair near where Logan and Janus have been chatting and takes out his phone to figure something out, before just giving up, burying his face in his hands.

Logan is the one who tentatively breaches the heavy silence, offering Roman the extra bed in his room. Roman appreciatively accepts, stating he's hoping to get out of tomorrow, and explains the concert debacle. Janus offers his sympathies, explaining his fiance had just broken up with him because of his job, and Logan laughs bitterly chiming in with his own breakup story. They get to chatting and it turns out that not only were all their partners from the same town, but it turns out so are they. Janus has the idea to just rent a car and they can all just leave town together. They're all headed toward the same place anyway, and the cost of canceled plan tickets is well worth not having to stay in a place where they're all miserable. They all agree and head off.

They're only on the road for a few hours when Roman gets a call, from his now ex demanding to know where he is, what he was thinking leaving town like that, he has an obligation to fulfill. Roman explains as calmly as he can that he left so he wouldn't be overshadowing her anymore, citing what she had told him during their Big Argument. Janus pulls over when Roman finally says that maybe she's better off without him, that he hopes she's happy with High-school Sweetheart and that all her dreams come true and ends the call. Janus holds his hand while he cries and Logan scoots to the middle and puts a hand on his shoulder.

They make it back without further incident. Janus and Logan keep in better contact as Janus is helping him with the stolen plans debacle. Both do try to keep in touch with Roman, though it's a bit hard to do with how much he withdrew after everything happened. And it's not really till a few months later when Janus and Logan meet up at a bar to celebrate getting Logan's plans back that they actually see Roman again. They track him down after his set on stage and invite him out to get food with them, but it's late and a lot of places are shutting down soon, so Logan suggest they grab food and take it back to his place. They all end up chatting till early in the morning and at that point Logan insists the other two just stay the night, citing his concern for their safety driving with such little sleep.

Janus and Roman wake the next morning only to overhear Logan on the phone, locked in conversation that was quickly devolving into an argument. Janus catches on that it has to do with the stolen plans and immediately is checking on things to make sure that they, indeed, get everything settled and Logan walks in a few minutes later, visibly upset and offering breakfast. Janus is at his side in an instant, asking to know what was wrong, and who was asking about the plans.

Logan explains that it was his ex, that she just found out the hotel isn't being built because it came out the plans were indeed stolen, and that she was trying to apologize and, essentially, get back together. Logan had turned her down and was just glad he could hang up and not have to worry about being slapped again. Before Janus can even fully react Roman has Logan in his arms and Logan finally breaks down for the first time since everything started. Janus stands close by, rubbing Logan's back, trying to offer at least a little comfort. Once Logan has calmed, Janus suggests going to breakfast together, his treat.

Breakfast together on Sunday morning becomes A Thing for the trio and the next thing they know they're planning Christmas together. Janus offers to host and when he greets Roman and Logan at the door with a kiss each, they all realize how much sense it makes, none of them can quite say when their friendship turned into something a little more, but now that they're here, they could see that it had indeed, become something more romantic. And that it simply made sense, it felt right, the three of them together. They spend the evening exchanging quick pecks on the cheek and playfully shouldering each other out of the way or bumping hips while cleaning up after dinner and finally huddled in a tangled mess of limbs on the couch watching the faux fire place. Quiet "I love you"s are finally exchanged, though at that point it was already known and didn't really need saying. But it felt good, felt right to say it. They stayed together that night and began making plans to spend every night together.

[sofoulandfairaday]

Hcs about Sirius? Thanks

Let's see how many people come screaming in my inbox for these

Tall. Taller than James, definitely taller than Remus (ya know, like the text implies).

Tall and conventionally handsome. Not the skinny/androgynous/emo kind. I don't hate those hcs, they're just not how I picture him. He's very very conventionally handsome in quite a masculine way although I can see him not sporting a beard until after Hogwarts, maybe even after his escape from Azkaban.

You can have your makeup wearing, skirt sporting, femme Sirius but it's just not for me.

Also. Also. Also. Can I just say? Wizards wear robes. They all wear skirts.

Prefers animals to people (and animals prefer him).

Can fly a broom, and can do so very well, most likely since before he ever got to Hogwarts, but he wasn't on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He maybe played once or twice if someone was injured and James was begging him, and only exclusively against Slytherin to spite his Seeker brother. I can see him being in the Duelling Club, though.

Practice duels against the Slytherins got vicious.

An absolute prodigy in Transfiguration (he and James were Minerva's favourite students), also excels in Charms, DADA, and (what a shocker) Astronomy. He's very good in school in general though, and has very high grades. Considering how much time James must have ‘wasted’ being Quidditch Captain - time that Sirius probably spent studying in his last two years of school - he was probably the best, academically speaking, of the Marauders. He was also probably the most powerful wizard of the four.

Took Muggle Studies to annoy his family (he was mildly interested, but he wasn't passionate about the subject), and dropped it after his O.W.L.S. to better concentrate on the ‘important’ classes, especially since there was a war out there by 1978. Definitely got into a slight quarrel with Lily about this - more and more people were dropping out of Muggle Studies out of fear at this point and to her, it was about making a statement. Sirius's reply was ‘I think a curse right between the eyes is a better statement against the Death Eaters - I can only do that if I train’.

But Sirius- I've said this before, but I'm much more interested in all the ways Sirius is like his family than the ways he isn't. Definitely had to unlearn many of his biases.

Amongst which: his classism. Which he does display in the books, especially in the case of Snape.

I'm sure he would get into arguments with Remus (who was clearly hurt by some of these - which is precisely what prompted Sirius to reexamine some of his views more consciously), where Remus would say ‘But not all werewolves are like that, Sirius!’ when talking about, say, whether or not they should be allowed in certain jobs or whatever, and Sirius saying ‘well, yes, Remus but what if they do attack someone’ (Wolfsbane isn't a thing at this point in the canon).

I've said this before and I'll say it again: Remus was Sirius' exception, much like Lily's was Snape's. And this goes for many things.

Gradually, he unlearns many of his beliefs, especially when he goes back home as a teenager and sees his points of view reflected in the mouths of people like Rodolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy - which disgusts him.

Sirius, in the books, has very famous lines (“The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters...”) but he very famously does not live by that morality. He's a person, to me, with an extremely black-and-white view of the world. He can hex and curse students for fun and it's fine because he isn't using Dark Magic. On the other hand, most Slytherins suck because they are all racist evil gits who will end up as Death Eaters anyway.

He did not have Slytherin friends, that's probably one of my least favourite headcanons ever. He knew these people because he was a Black, which is why he can list them off to Harry in GoF, but he definitely did not hang out with them or like them in any way. Also, who were the Slytherins in his year and above/below anyways? Avery and Mulciber who played cruel (and maybe slightly illegal) jokes on Mary MacDonald? Evan Rosier (to me he actually wasn't, in my headcanons he's 4 years older than Bellatrix, which makes him about 13 years older than Sirius, but for the sake of argument) who was a Dark Wizard TM and blasted off half of Mad Eye's nose? Barty Voldemort Fanboy Crouch? Regulus??? Snape?????

Good at Potions, never top of the class (those were Lily and Snape)

Tactless at times, but not as much as James.

An asshole. A complete and utter arrogant toerag, and definitely more than a little immature. He was popular, like James, and I can see him having other friends outside the Marauders, but never establishing deep and meaningful relationships with them. He was definitely more unapproachable than James, much more intimidating.

(Definitely meaner jokes, too.)

James was the love of his life (platonically, but I can get behind them as a ship). He was loyal to James, first and foremost (which is also why he and Moony grew apart and suspicious of each other in the First War). Also, both of them were James' friends first. The Marauders were James' friend group.

He was definitely jealous when James first got together with Lily because she was stealing his best friend, his second, better brother. He liked Lily, but he was obsessed with James, who definitely grew up before Sirius did.

I've always headcanoned Sirius as straight/bi and Regulus as gay. But the point is more that while I can see Sirius experimenting a bit in Hogwarts (after all, he was full of girls who probably liked him) I can't really see him as either an arrogant/douchebag playboy. I also don't think he ever had a serious relationship. Ever. Especially in his Hogwarts days. If you're not worthy of his time, he won't look at you twice let alone give you a chance.

Any partner of Sirius' would have to be quite exceptional anyways (brilliant, intelligent, talented, funny - he was all of these things after all - and maybe even a bit mean). I can't see why a girl like that would put up with Sirius' arrogance.

Loved McGonagall, lowkey hated Slughorn. He was definitely invited to the Slug Club and I can see him turning down meetings. That particular brand of cunning weaselling cowardice is quite literally the opposite of what Sirius was and it drove him up the wall.

My boy Sirius never worked a day in his life, especially after Uncle Alphard left him gold.

Also: it's very likely that given his nature (he doesn't open up to strangers easily), his vaguely intimidating aura, his less-than-perfect track record in school (I know this fandom likes to ignore that he cursed students for fun, but. like. he did.), the fact that he probably didn't have a job and spent his post-Hogwarts years in secret missions for the Order, and general ruthlessness- people knew him mostly as just another Black. It wasn't that unthinkable then that he might have been seen as Voldemort's number two.

(This enrages Bellatrix by the way lol)

And speaking of Bella. Sirius likes to go around saying Andromeda was his favourite cousin. Nu-uh. He wishes that was truly the case. These two have history, and I find it hilarious that what they hate in the other is precisely what they love in themselves (their respective loyalties).

Saw each other/could hear each other in Azkaban. Bellatrix's taunts of ‘See? We were right. You betrayed our family for these traitors and this is how they repaid you’ made the whole stay that much worse.

More likely than not had promised each other that they would be the ones to kill the other.

Bellatrix didn't mean to kill him though, I am convinced of this. In the books, she hits him with a Stunner and probably yells because she won the duel. Then, it's only after it's sunk in (after her run from the DoM to the Atrium) and when Voldemort is getting closer that she taunts Harry about it.

Personal headcanon: the last time Sirius saw his cousins was at Narcissa's wedding (nice parallel, because I believe that the last event Andromeda ever attended was Bellatrix's wedding). Now, it happened around his 5th/6th year and guess who was also there? Yup. Snivellus (as Lucius' guest). The two almost got into a brawl. Bellatrix was not happy with them almost spoiling Cissy's big day.

Once tried to beat up Rodolphus during a skirmish in which they had both lost their wands, in the First War. It did not go well for him.

I'll stop this now, but I def have more. Don't even get me started on Walburga and Orion and how this fandom does not understand abuse at all.

[heyimdove]

Things of Note at @neil-gaiman ‘s NJPAC talk:

1. Do you people understand that he switches into accents when he reads? Do you people know he does a perfect Michael Sheen impression? did you know it’s also hot

2. He used to cold call publishers/mags to see if they’d publish his work. He’d lie when asked what other magazines he wrote for; they’d think he was more legitimate and would, therefore, be more likely to take him on themselves. “You couldn’t get away with that now” thanks to Google. Also, back then, “we had telephones and we used them,” but today’s publishers would not easily recover if you unexpectedly called them on the phone.

3. It was a personal point of pride for Neil to write for each of the magazines he’d claimed to have written for. He said “I didn’t lie. I was chronologically challenged.”

4. Neil made a deliberate effort to not be boxed in by publishers. He’d interviewed many authors who were unhappily boxed and did everything he could to avoid it, including declining big contracts from prestigious publishers (notably after American Gods). This is why he can write what he likes now. Comics writing spoiled him in this regard, as publishers mistook the medium for a genre, and therefore didn’t care what he wrote (so he wrote all the genres he wanted to in Sandman).

5. He hates Thomas Hardy thanks to being introduced to him in school. Regarding being forced to read Tess of the D’urbervilles, he said “I wouldn’t do that to a dog”. He hopes students, who might have liked him if they found him on their own, don’t encounter his work in school and hate him for it.

6. “The evil characters (you write) don’t possess you, you try to find the little bit of you in them….the little bit of you that is gloriously evil.”

7. “I touched the magic and passed it along” this was a line from Watching from the Shadows that especially moved me.

8. Terry was increasingly upset as the bidding on Good Omens increased (eventually reaching 150,000 - can’t remember if he said $ or £). For his part, when the book finally sold, Neil put on Iggy Pop’s Success and danced.

9. Anansi Boys should be out on Prime by the end of 2024!

10. Described Sandalphon as someone you want to “hit with a large oar”. (The woman next to me, who was extremely stingy with her applause, hooted like an owl at this and clapped til the last).

11. Pronounces Amazon as “Ama-zin” and Los Angeles as “Los Angelese”. This isn’t noteworthy, but I liked it enough to write it down.

12. “Being on a beach in bare feet” was the line that led Neil to realize David Tennant would be perfect for Crowley.

13. He is pictured on the ALA’s poster holding Wind in the Willows because, as a child, “it messed up my head.” He said he is “in love” with a chapter in the middle called The Piper at the Gates of Dawn where the characters meet Pan. It’s often left out of printings, which makes him sad because it is “strange, beautiful, luminous”.

14. TOATEOTL was originally planned to go to Broadway. Then, Covid. They did a “world tour” instead. Now that it’s wrapped, talks about Broadway are happening. He says all of adaptations of his work, this is his favorite.

15. “Disney’s Aladdin plays four times a day in Hell”

16. His favorite question of the night was “WHY did you think of the Other Mother?” He was tickled by the word choice of “why”

17. Asked the library in Sussex “What have you got in the way of really good horror for four year olds?” Obviously none existed so he wrote Coraline.

18. Talked about going viral for being in a falafel, seemed to marvel at the progression of the meme’s meaning.

19. “Tumblr is its own madness”

20. “Stephen King has fabulous stories about meeting fans in toilets, including being passed a book under the stall”

21. Read “The Day the Saucers Came” which I misheard initially as Sauces. Saucers is definitely better.

22. “You want to see me doing Dickens?” I laughed inappropriately at this. I was the only one.

23. I don’t want to say what pieces he read because I want you to buy tickets to his events. But it was very nice to be read to by Neil Gaiman.

It’s very worth it to go. I flew out from San Diego for this and would do it again in a heartbeat!

[emwheezie]

Who are you choosing if my characters were in a dating sim?

Lennon:

Gremlin mode

Daddy issues

Bad hair

Musical/Creative genius. Perfect pitch

Ambitious

Doesn't shower

Ate a lasagna once

Doesn't know how to use his words

Fights drywall

Movie watcher

Chicken addiction

Street smart

Closeted Weezer fan

Dunkin Donuts

Shoes on the bed

Green Day

Might be silly

Goes up the stairs on all fours

Stressed/depressed/poorly dressed

PBC singer and lead guitar

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

Tony:

Purple

Crazy driver

:3

Mall pretzels

Catholic school survivor

Emotionally smart/book smart

Stressed/depressed/dressed to impress

Afraid of getting old/ugly

Wants to fight the MBTA

Might be delusional

throws up from anxiety

Redbull and Taco Bell

Loves dogs

Green Day

Poetic

Saw Moses (biblical) in the woods while high with Theo

Bisexual

Lactose intolerant

Finds meaning in everything

Always in a relationship

PBC bassist and "manager"

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

Enzo:

Evil

Might have killed a man

Man Bun

Posts on DeviantART

Loves dragons

whispers and shakes

Future tattoo artist

Movie connoisseur

Might be a furry...?

LOVES the Saw movie franchise

Protective and loyal

Street smart

Stays up all night in the dark

In an online relationship

Does what he wants

Doesn't waste time

Sparkling water enjoyer

Tea drinker

Never listened to a music in his life

Guitarist in a band (PBC)

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

Theo:

From New Hampshire

Asexual

Golden retriever personality 

Grew up with 8 siblings

Joined the military after High School

Eats Oatmeal?

Doesn't wear a seatbelt

Outdoorsy/hiking adventures

Works at a club/bar with his wife, Gia

Is a cinnamon roll

Emotionally smart

Saw Moses (biblical) in the woods while high with Tony

Calls music his "funky jams"

Forgets his shoes

Mtn Dew

Forgetful

Kidney Stones

His appendix exploded once

PBC drummer

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

Park:

Loves alcohol

Hates the government

Hates the IRS

Has never paid taxes

No sense of personal space/very touchy

LOUD

Climbs things

Grilled cheese enthusiast  

Dunkin Donuts manager

Aliens are 4 realz

loves video games

Wicked smart

Goes to MIT for like space engineering or something idk

Makes monkey noises

"I have to be both the sexiest and most mentally challenged person in the room at all times"

Obsessed with skin walkers

Conspiracy theories

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

Oli:

Photography/cinematography 

Graphic design

Urban Explorer

Abandoned things

Summer time vibes

Lives in sleeveless shirts

Black coffee drinker

health freak/gym rat

Smokes cigarettes (hey we all have our vices)

Secretly gay

Chronic complainer

Works at zumies

Does graffiti 

Runs from his problems

Travels for work

Drives a modded Subaru

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

Alyssa:

Preforms unethical experiments in the sims 3

Loves cows

So many many plushies there's no room for her in the bed

weezer fan

Talks a lot

Lots of keychains/charms

Maximalism!

Assertive

Good listener

Workaholic 

HAS to be the BEST at anything she does

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

Rosie

Grew up with strict parents

Working too many hours at Dunkin Donuts

Former ballet/dancer

Likes to bake and really good at it!

Compulsive liar

"I have a twin sister who goes to another school"

Gets jealous easily

Body image problems/eating disorders :(

Emotionally Immature 

Spider eyelashes

A nose ring is "rebelling from my parents"

Currently in college

Afraid of change

Emotional support eldest daughter

Loves to sing

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

The Candymakers by Wendy Mass

Four children have been chosen to compete in a national competition to find the tastiest confection in the country. Who will invent a candy more delicious than the Oozing Crunchorama or the Neon Lightning Chew?

Logan, the Candymaker's son, who can detect the color of chocolate by touch alone?

Miles, the boy who is allergic to merry-go-rounds and the color pink?

Daisy, the cheerful girl who can lift a fifty-pound lump of taffy like it's a feather?

Or Philip, the suit-and-tie wearing boy who's always scribbling in a secret notebook?

This sweet, charming, and cleverly crafted story, told from each contestant's perspective, is filled with mystery, friendship, and juicy revelations.

Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce

When his brother catches measles, Tom is sent away for the summer to stay with his uncle and aunt and is thoroughly fed up about it. What a boring summer it's going to be. But then, lying in bed one night, he hears the old grandfather clock in the hall strike the very strange hour of 13 o'clock. What can it mean? As Tom creeps downstairs and opens the door, he finds out...a magical garden, a new playmate, and the adventure of a lifetime.

Things Not Seen by Andrew Clemens

Bobby Phillips is an average fifteen-year-old boy. Until the morning he wakes up and can't see himself in the mirror. Not blind, not dreaming. Bobby is just plain invisible...

There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to Bobby's new condition; even his dad the physicist can't figure it out. For Bobby that means no school, no friends, no life. He's a missing person. Then he meets Alicia. She's blind, and Bobby can't resist talking to her, trusting her. But people are starting to wonder where Bobby is. Bobby knows that his invisibility could have dangerous consequences for his family and that time is running out. He has to find out how to be seen again before it's too late.

Five Children by E. Nesbit

The five children find a cantankerous sand fairy, a psammead, in a gravel pit. Every day 'It' will grant each of them a wish that lasts until sunset, often with disastrous consequences.

Once by Morris Gleitzman

Everybody deserves to have something good in their life. At least Once.

Once I escaped from an orphanage to find Mum and Dad.

Once I saved a girl called Zelda from a burning house.

Once I made a Nazi with a toothache laugh.

My name is Felix. This is my story.

The Chronicles of Ancient Darkness by Michelle Paver

Six thousand years ago. Evil stalks the land. Only twelve-year-old Torak and his wolf-cub companion can defeat it. Their journey together takes them through deep forests, across giant glaciers, and into dangers they never imagined.

In this page-turning, original, and spectacularly told adventure story, Torak and Wolf are joined by an incredible cast of characters as they battle to save their world, in this first book in the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness.

All-of-a-Kind Family by Sydney Taylor

It's the turn of the century in New York's Lower East Side and a sense of adventure and excitement abounds for five young sisters - Ella, Henny, Sarah, Charlotte and Gertie. Follow along as they search for hidden buttons while dusting Mama's front parlor, or explore the basement warehouse of Papa's peddler's shop on rainy days. The five girls enjoy doing everything together, especially when it involves holidays and surprises. But no one could have prepared them for the biggest surprise of all!

Matt Cruse by Kenneth Oppel

Matt Cruse is a cabin boy on the Aurora, a huge airship that sails hundreds of feet above the ocean, ferrying wealthy passengers from city to city. It is the life Matt's always wanted; convinced he's lighter than air, he imagines himself as buoyant as the hydrium gas that powers his ship. One night he meets a dying balloonist who speaks of beautiful creatures drifting through the skies. It is only after Matt meets the balloonist's granddaughter that he realizes that the man's ravings may, in fact, have been true, and that the creatures are completely real and utterly mysterious.

A Tale Dark & Grimm by Adam Gidwitz

In this mischievous and utterly original debut, Hansel and Gretel walk out of their own story and into eight other classic Grimm-inspired tales. As readers follow the siblings through a forest brimming with menacing foes, they learn the true story behind (and beyond) the bread crumbs, edible houses, and outwitted witches.

Fairy tales have never been more irreverent or subversive as Hansel and Gretel learn to take charge of their destinies and become the clever architects of their own happily ever after.

Upon a Marigold by Jean Ferris

Christian is gaga for Princess Marigold. But he's just a commoner, and no match for royalty. Heck, he lives in a cave with a troll! And now he's discovered another reason to put his love-soggy heart on Queen Olympia is scheming to take over the kingdom--and she'll bump off her own daughter to do it. Can Christian foil her diabolical plans?