#so the stans have no excuse to complain if they see this

[youre-where-i-wanna-go]

scrolling through angela bassett's tag on various social media to find news about or rare footage of her really shows you the 9-1-1 fandom's, including many bathena stans', true colors time and time again against your will. but bobby's death especially has brought out a lot of selfishness and disrespect against the person this show was created around.

i don't want angela to lose her job. i want her to stay on the show and hog all the screentime, at this point to spite everyone who's weird about her but god do i wish i'd never have to see the parts of the fandom that don't genuinely respect her ever again. can't even grieve bobby in peace bc i keep getting pissed off and i'm already taking breaks from these apps.

[22ayla21]

I suddenly crave some angst with comfort and so what I have in mind is mc being a well known warrior who was recently deployed to fight off a war.

But the aftermath left mc with a scar goes all the way from under the eye to the neck. It made her so insecure which resulted in her avoiding her husband, but of course they would immediately notice and find out the reason why mc is avoiding them.

They approach mc one night and assured her that no matter how much scar she gains, they still see her as the most beautiful person in the whole universe.

Sooo for who I have in mind with this idea is Jing Yuan, Mydei, Phainon and whoever you might want to add!

I love your works by the way I always check your blog to see your new posts

Scar

She returned from the war not only with emotional wounds but also physical ones, which caused her to avoid him.

Loufu greeted her return with silence. The war was over. The Xianzhou army returned victorious, but losses were inevitable. She survived, but at what cost?

A deep, ugly scar, stretching from her cheekbone to her neck, reminded her of how the enemy's blade had nearly ended her life.

Before, looking in the mirror, she saw a determined, strong woman, equal to General Jing Yuan. Now, her gaze avoided her own reflection. She didn't cry or complain. She just started avoiding him. She didn't seek his gaze, didn't touch him as before. She spoke little, and if he was near, she found any excuse to leave.

He wasn't blind and noticed everything immediately.

One night, when Loufu was bathed in soft moonlight, he entered her chambers. She sat by the window, back straight, hands folded in her lap. From the outside, she seemed calm, but her fingers were frantically gripping the fabric of her clothes.

She heard his footsteps but didn't turn around. He approached, sat beside her, allowing silence to fill the space between them.

"Why are you avoiding me?" She flinched, not from his voice, but from his closeness.

"I…" she stammered. "I'm not avoiding you."

"Don't lie." She pressed her lips together, then turned sharply to him, looking straight into his eyes.

"Have you seen me? Have you seen what's become of me?" He looked at her intently.

"I see." She took a shuddering breath.

"I… I've become ugly." He frowned.

"Who told you that?"

"It's obvious, Jing Yuan!" her voice trembled, she clenched her fists tightly. "Don't you see? This scar… it… I'm not the same as before."

Silence fell.

Then he raised his hand and gently touched her face, running his fingers along the scar. She flinched but didn't pull away.

"Silly," he said softly. She blinked in surprise. He ran his thumb across her cheek, then down to her neck, tracing the line of the scar.

"Do you think one mark will change how I see you?" his voice was low, calm, but filled with firm assurance. "Do you think it will change my feelings?"

"No matter how many scars you have, you will always be the most beautiful in the entire universe to me."

She didn't know what to say. His words, so calm and confident, caused a sharp pain in her chest.

Then something inside her broke. She closed her eyes, and the first tears rolled down her cheeks. Jing Yuan pulled her close, hugging her tightly. And in that moment, she realized he was right.

Mydei wasn't one for empty words. He was used to actions, but with her, he understood: sometimes you need to speak. Especially now.

Her scar, from her eye to her neck, tormented her from the inside. Not just a wound – a heavy weight on her heart. In the war, she did everything she could, but this mark became a symbol of loss, of her confidence.

When she returned home, she hid the scar. She dressed so it wouldn't be seen, even in their secluded home. She avoided his gaze when they were near. Her gestures became cautious, her words quiet in his presence. She tried not to meet his eyes, afraid to see the disgust in his gaze that she thought might be there.

Mydei noticed. He immediately understood it was about the scar, that he couldn't just stand aside.

At night, when she was almost asleep, Mydei suddenly sat beside her, quietly. Without saying a word, he touched her shoulder, making her turn around. His eyes held so much sincerity and understanding that she gasped.

"You shouldn't hide it," he whispered, but his voice was firm. "I won't look at you any differently. You're already the most beautiful."

She was silent, her lips trembling, but he saw her chest rise with each breath, how she tried to hold back tears. He didn't look away, not letting her escape from answering.

"I love you," Mydei continued, "and no matter how many scars you have, you will still be the most beautiful woman in the entire universe to me."

Her eyes misted over, and finally, she allowed herself to cry quietly, not hiding her feelings. Mydei hugged her, holding her close, not letting her retreat into her self-isolation. He was there. And he wasn't going to let her go.

The war took her away for a long time. When she left, he knew: she was strong, smart, an experienced warrior. She knew how to protect herself and others. He believed her skills were her safety. But no one expected the war to leave such marks – not only on her soul but also on her body.

She returned – different. Her steps were cautious, her gaze averted. Before, her eyes held determination, confidence, but now – emptiness. She kept her distance, as if hiding something.

And he saw the scar.

A thin line from her eye to her neck – when she tucked her hair behind her ear. A sword mark – deep, painful. Not only on her body but also in her soul. A warrior, pride – and suddenly vulnerability, weakness.

She avoided his gaze, her hands nervously covering the scar. And the conversations – not the same as before. He couldn't stay silent.

One night, she was in the shadows, hiding her face. He approached quietly.

"You know I love you, right?" and, without waiting for an answer, "I love you not for your appearance, not for your scars. For your strength, kindness, determination. You are the most beautiful person. Even with this scar."

She was silent, but her breathing evened out, the tension left. He sat beside her, took her hand, and was silent. He knew time was the best healer. She would accept herself.

"I'm here, always," he added softly. "Scar or no scar. You are the most beautiful."

She didn't answer, but her heart felt lighter. And maybe, just maybe, she would believe she was beautiful – no matter what.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

✧・₊˚ 🕯️christmas with the gravity falls characters 🎄₊˚ ・✧

𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅��𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

a/n: i know, i know, Stan and Ford are jewish, but still, i wanted to make this little gift for you all with your favourite characters

・₊˚ ❄️ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

definitely loves watching the same old black-and-white holiday movies, cackling like he’s never seen them before. you spend the day with him in the mystery shack, surrounded by all the tacky decorations he somehow managed to find for fifty cents or less, because of course he’d never spend actual money on something frivolous like a real christmas tree. nah, you get the plastic one he found at a garage sale, still missing half its branches but looking perfect in his eyes. and then he winks at you, smiling awkwardly, as if you didn’t just catch him trying to use duct tape to stick a piece of tinsel back on.

he’d totally try to sell you the idea of the “mystery shack christmas deluxe experience” where you roast hot dogs instead of chestnuts and every gift is “mystery-themed” (read: stuff he didn’t sell during summer tourist season). but then, once he realizes you're not buying into the grift, he’ll sit with you on the couch in his beat-up old slippers, placing an arm around your shoulder while you both share a bottle of wine, Stan keeps glancing at you during such quiet moments, because he’s simply not sure how he got so lucky to have you around for a holiday he didn’t even care about before you showed up in his life.

𓂃⋆.˚ his gifts come straight from the heart. something handmade, like a charm bracelet he cobbled together from trinkets he’s kept from his con days, or a mixtape full of the music that reminds him of you.

𓂃⋆.˚ he buys you your favorite snacks, no matter how obscure or hard to find. it’s his love language to see your beautiful eyes light up when you see them on the counter, all for you, his most beloved person in the whole world

𓂃⋆.˚ one christmas, he gave you a framed picture of you both, taken during one of the rare moments he wasn’t scowling at the camera. you’d been laughing, mid-snowball fight and he’d secretly printed and framed it because he thought it was the best picture of the two of you ever taken

𓂃⋆.˚ Stan loves christmas movies, especially the cheesy, feel-good ones. you’ll find him crying over the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life and insisting it’s “just allergies.”

𓂃⋆.˚ he’s a sucker for mistletoe. he’ll hang it everywhere, just so he has an excuse to kiss you. even when you’re not under it, he’ll point vaguely upwards and say, “hey, mistletoe,” before pulling you in.

𓂃⋆.˚ Stan puts antlers on the stanleymobile. he would

***

Stan isn’t big on planning, but he knows you’ve been looking forward to the holiday festivities downtown. he grumbles about the cold and the crowds, but the moment you take his hand and lead him toward the string lights and decorated shops, he softens.

he insists on winning you something at one of those cheesy carnival games, even though he curses every time he misses. eventually, he manages to snag a small, wonky-looking stuffed reindeer and hands it to you with a self-satisfied smirk.

“there. merry christmas, kid,” he says, ruffling your hair in teasing, affectionate way.

you drag him to the ice rink, and though he complains the entire time, he lets you pull him onto the ice. he’s clumsy as he tries not to fall, but when you laugh and hold onto him, he relaxes. by the end of it, you’re both clinging to each other, red-faced and breathless from laughter, but so happy to share this moment together.

when the evening winds down, Stan buys you both hot cider from a street vendor and finds a spot by the giant christmas tree in the town square. he slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both admire the lights.

“this ain’t so bad. . . as long as you’re here.” as he leans to kiss you.

✧𐙚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

ford’s version of christmas is surprisingly tender, a little awkward at first because, you know, the guy’s been trapped in alternate dimensions for thirty years and kinda forgot how to do this whole “holiday cheer” thing. he insists on going all out though: a real tree, real ornaments (none of Stan’s tacky nonsense), and actual thought put into the gifts he gives you.

you catch him late at night in the living room as he fiddles with an ornament in his hands. it’s something handmade, probably from one of his crazy adventures in random universes. when he notices you watching, he smiles shyly.

“this holiday. . . it reminds me of what i missed out on, but being here with you, it makes me feel like i’m reclaiming some of that.” he hesitates for a second, taking your hand in his. “thank you. . . for reminding me what home feels like.”

𓂃⋆.˚ he’s the kind of guy who surprises you with heartfelt little gestures, like writing you a short story as a gift or carving something intricate out of wood

𓂃⋆.˚ his gifts are so painfully thoughtful because he stays awake all night thinking about the perfect thing. a first edition book that reminds him of your favorite stories, complete with a personal inscription in his cursive handwriting

𓂃⋆.˚ little treasures from his multidimensional travels: pressed flowers from an alien world, rocks from another dimension that shimmer in the light, a hand-drawn star map of the night he first realized he loved you

𓂃⋆.˚ he’s too shy to hand them over directly so he’ll leave them on your desk or your pillow with a note that simply says: “for you.” his heart always pounds until you smile and kiss him in thanks

𓂃⋆.˚ he loves practicality but puts so much heart into it. one year, he crafted a custom notebook for you, complete with little sketches and a pressed flower he found on one of your walks

𓂃⋆.˚ he wraps everything with precise care. edges folded sharply, no stray tape. it’s absurdly cute watching this man hunch over his workbench, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as he tries to make the wrapping paper perfect

***

Ford plans everything. he doesn’t let you know until the last second, of course, he just tells you to bundle up and meet him outside the cabin, a thermos of hot chocolate already waiting for you in his hands. his scarf is wrapped haphazardly around his neck and his glasses are fogging up as he waits for you.

“you’re going to love this,” he promises excitedly as he leads you toward a clearing in the woods where a telescope is already set up with its lens gleaming in the moonlight.

Ford’s breath is visible in the cold night air as he begins pointing out constellations. his voice is soft but brimming with passion as he tells you stories of orion, cassiopeia and scorpius. then he smiles and points to one bright star in particular.

“that’s sirius, the dog star,” he explains. “it’s the brightest star in the sky and it rises in winter.”

you’re so caught up in his voice that you barely notice him draping his coat over your shoulders to keep you warm. his arm brushes yours and he leans in close to adjust the telescope for you.

later, you both sit on a plaid blanket he brought along, sharing marshmallows from his pocket (a surprisingly cute habit of his). he points out meteors and tells you about the science behind them, but when you notice him stealing glances at you, you realize that he’s more interested in the stars reflected in your eyes.

🕯️✧ 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫

you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even understand the concept of Christmas at first. he just likes the idea of shiny things, chaos, and people losing their minds over last-minute shopping. this demon will conjure up decorations that shouldn’t exist in this reality, like ornaments that sing creepy songs when you touch them or garlands made out of what you hope are fake teeth.

“aw, sweetie, you mortals and your ridiculous traditions! let me guess, you want peace on earth, goodwill toward men, blah blah blah.” he laughs. but what you don’t expect is when he snaps his fingers to make snow fall inside your living room. romantic, isn’t it?

but just when you think he’s gonna ruin the whole thing, he floats close to you, winking at you with his single eye. “y’know, for a meat sack, you’ve got some pretty decent taste in holidays. let’s make this one memorable, shall we?”

and memorable it is. whether it’s him warping reality to give you the most extravagant gifts you’ve ever seen (did he just pull a diamond-encrusted reindeer out of nowhere?) or making the stars spell out your name as a “christmas present,” he’s nothing if not dramatic. it’s so chaotic and unsettling, but dating Bill, you got used to find it weirdly romantic.

𓂃⋆.˚ he doesn’t wrap his gifts. he just hands them to you saying “you’re welcome, sweetie.”

𓂃⋆.˚ snowball fights with bill are intense. he cheats., making snowballs hover in the air before pelting you with them. but he’ll let you win in the end, claiming it’s because you’re his “favorite meat sack.”

𓂃⋆.˚ bill tries to summon krampus just to spice things up. it does NOT go well.

𓂃⋆.˚ bill LOVES christmas carols, but he never sings them right. he changes the lyrics to absurd or downright creepy things just to make you laugh. “oh, the weather outside is frightful, and so are the screams of mortals!”

𓂃⋆.˚ bill would absolutely gift you something ridiculous, borderline threatening. you open it and it’s. . . what? a cursed snowglobe? a contract you accidentally signed by touching the ribbon? he’s laughing, until you roll your eyes and toss the whole thing in the fireplace. poor guy is shocked

𓂃⋆.˚ he’s got a twisted sense of humor, so his gifts are always a bit offbeat too, for example, a bottle of some mystical liquid, or even just an empty box with a cryptic note inside (pls don’t read it out loud!!)

𓂃⋆.˚ but then he’ll surprise you with something. . . oddly sentimental, like a necklace engraved with your initials in gold

***

Bill shows up uninvited on christmas eve because he loves bothering his little human. no warning, no knock on the door, just bam and your the fireplace goes cold and there he is: spinning lazily above your living room, his one big eye watching bc you. “surprise, sweetie! It’s me, your beloved demon!“ is he. . . wearing a tiny santa hat perched on his corner??

“HO HO HO! MERRY APOCALYPSE!” he shouts, throwing candy canes that explode on impact. your couch is gone, replaced by a pile of something vaguely moving. you don’t ask

he’s already decorated your living room. except “decorated” is generous, it’s like if christmas threw up on a nightmare. ornaments float mid-air, blinking like eyes; tinsel coils around the walls like it’s alive; the tree is definitely moving, it waves at you.

“you didn’t think I’d miss the holiday season, did you?!” he laughs loudly, his tone got a weird excitement in it, like he genuinely loves this. “ahh, Christmas, a time for giving, receiving and unraveling the fragile sanity of your pitiful mortal mind! i brought presents!”

he snaps his fingers and it’s not a good sign, because every time he does it, you prepare for something creepy and weird. suddenly there’s a pile of gifts under the writhing tree. you’re hesitant, obviously, because one of the boxes is hissing and another is. . . uh, glowing? but Bill’s so excited, floating in circles and chanting “open ‘em! open ‘em!” you cave.

you hesitate. “. . . what’s the catch?”

his single eye narrows, offended. “oh, come on, baby. dont you trust me?”

you don’t, obviously, but curiosity is a terrible drug. so you reach out.

the first box is full of. . . how cute, teeth. just teeth. human? animal? who knows. Bill cackles. “thought you could use some spare parts!” the second box explodes into confetti that screams too damn loud your head hurts. and the third. . . oh, the third box contains a perfectly normal sweater. you blink at it, suspicious.

“what? cant a guy be sentimental?” Bill grumbles, narrowing his eye. then he lunges forward, the sweater levitating out of the box and straight onto you. “aww, look at you! you’re adorable! now let’s go and sing carols and by carols I mean we’re summoning an eldritch horror to devour the moon!“

merry christmas, you guess?

🎄๋࣭⭑ 𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐜𝐠𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭

Christmas with Fiddleford is the epitome of cozy. he’s humming holiday tunes while tinkering with some gadget that probably doesn’t belong anywhere near the christmas tree and the smell of something sweet and homemade fills the air. . . probably pie, because you know that man can bake.

a goofy smile is plastered on his face the whole day, his laughter fills the house every time you catch him singing off-key or accidentally setting something on fire in the kitchen, but don’t worry, he’s got a fire extinguisher handy.

“now don’t you worry, darlin’, christmas ain’t ‘bout fancy gifts or big ol’ decorations. it’s about spendin it with the folks ya love!”

he insists on sitting by the fire with you later with his banjo on his knee as he strums something soft and slow. he swears it’s not a carol! but god, the way this man looks at you while playing. . . you swear your heart melts a little right there. “merry christmas, sugar.” you smile and lean your head on his shoulder

𓂃⋆.˚ Fiddleford also loves making little gadgets as gifts. one year, he made you a wind-up snow globe that plays a soft lullaby and snows glitter. he was so proud of it

𓂃⋆.˚ he loves making you laugh so his gift might be something silly, like a tiny, dancing robot chicken. but it always comes with a heartfelt, “just somethin to remind ya how special you are to me.”

𓂃⋆.˚ oh, he knits. scarves, mittens, sweaters, you name it, he’s made it. he even knits little ornaments to hang on the tree. your first christmas together, he made you a scarf in your favorite colors and was so shy about giving it to you

𓂃⋆.˚ he always makes a little handmade card to go with his gifts, with a sweet note inside telling you how much you mean to him.

𓂃⋆.˚ he’s a baker during christmas. the smell of cookies fills the house and he always sneaks you a bite of dough, claiming it’s for “quality control.”

𓂃⋆.˚ when it’s snowing, he’ll insist on taking you outside to build snowmen!!

𓂃⋆.˚ gets really embarrassed but also so happy when you compliment his work. he blushes furiously and tries to brush it off, but deep down, he loves that someone appreciates him

***

Fiddleford’s kitchen is a mess of flour, sugar and cinnamon. he insists on baking cookies from scratch, even though he’s clearly winging it.

“don’t worry, darling, a lil bit of mess just means it’s gonna taste better,” he assures you, his whole face is dusted with flour.

he hums christmas carols as he works. when you try to help, he wraps his arms around you from behind and guides your hands as you roll out the dough. and damn, his touch is so comforting and warm, better than any fireplace.

“now that’s the spirit, love,” he says, nuzzling your neck.

the cookies come out slightly misshapen but so delicious and cute, Fiddleford insists on decorating them together. he smears frosting on your nose at one point, laughing when you retaliate by smearing some on his cheek.

later, as the cookies cool, he pulls you onto the couch with a cozy quilt and mugs of spiced cider. he kisses your temple and murmurs, “best christmas i ever had,” as the fire crackles softly in the background.

[ashes-goin-down]

Can we talk about Cartman's tendency to pet Kyle? And the way Kyle lets him do it?

It's such an under-discussed part of their dynamic. Cartman does this all the time. He does it to tease Kyle. He does it to comfort him. He does it to express gratitude. He even does it to pictures of Kyle when Kyle's not there.

And you could say that's just Cartman, he's just touchy, that's just how he expresses himself . . . except that it's really not. All this petting and stroking isn't something you see him do with Stan and Kenny. (Friends he has said multiple times he loves.) It's not something he does with his actual pet, Mr Kitty. It's not something he does with his mom. It's not even something he does with Heidi or Yentl. There's a lot of hand-holding and kissing in those relationships, but Cartman appears to consider this expected romantic partner behavior, and to be imitating that accordingly. What you don't see with them is the clingy, almost unconscious need to touch he demonstrates with Kyle. Kyle has to be stroked, patted, petted, hugged, poked, pulled on . . . it seems to be a comfort thing for Cartman, and that is just so fascinating to me.

It's also endlessly fascinating to me that Kyle - who has no problem putting Cartman in his place about anything else - allows this nearly every time. Maybe there's some token complaining, but he never actually tries to stop it. It's not "ew, Cartman is hugging me" it's always "why is Cartman hugging me?" and that's a subtle difference I think gets overlooked. People like to claim Kyle's response to Cartman having a crush on him would be disgust, and that Kyman could only ever be one-sided for this reason. But Kyle's response to Cartman being affectionate with him is actually pretty much always confusion, not disgust. I get the impression Kyle doesn't know how he feels about it.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here, but it's just so interesting to me, the relationship they both have to touch. Cartman uses Kyle to fulfil his need for touch and connection - and Kyle doesn't often reciprocate this touch, but he pretty consistently makes the concession of allowing it. They're feeling each other out, trying to work out "who are you to me and what do I feel for you?" It's one of the elements of Kyman that makes the ship so endearing, I think. There's this sweetness to it that absolutely should not exist between these characters, but does anyway.

Definitely! You’re right, Cartman does seem to seek out physical contact with Kyle considerably more than with anyone else he isn’t directly romantically involved with and my favourite instances of this is when he does so under the guise of antagonizing him. Two examples of this are the whole ‘Jennifer Lopez’-thing in “Fat Butt and Pancake Head” and Cartman promoting Kyle to the Germans in “Funnybot”. In both cases he uses an instance of disrespecting Kyle as a front to compliment him, with the ‘Jennifer Lopez’-persona constantly being gushing over him, telling him how much she likes him, calling him ‘handsome’ and of course ‘kissing’ him by Cartman pressing his hand against Kyle’s mouth. This is especially interesting considering the fact that later in the episode it is very heavily implied (and then pretty much outright confirmed in “200”) that Cartman really doesn’t have full control over the character. In “Funnybot” Cartman calls Kyle either ‘gentle/soft’ or ‘juicy’ (lol), ‘pretty’, and ‘very beautiful’ in extremely mangled German (which I guess is just regular German in-universe since the native speakers talk just like that) and while the context of the scene is obviously very dark for the viewer, who can infer what’s going on, Kyle doesn’t actually seem to realise what is happening. He doesn’t appear to understand what is being said at all and as such Cartman doesn’t even really have the excuse that he’s teasing him.

This scene fits the reaction you described that Kyle tends to have when Cartman engages him in physical contact very well: Kyle reacts to Cartman excessively touching him with confusion but simply lets it happen. He has every reason to be wary of Cartman’s intentions and yet he makes no effort to stop him from what he’s doing. In “ManBearPig” Kyle wakes up to find Cartman leaning over him and while he doesn’t actually touch him, he does get extremely close to him, giving us the famous image of their faces mere inches apart. Kyle’s reaction to this is incredibly understated: He appears at most slightly irritated and attempts neither to push Cartman off nor to move away from him. Once again, he mostly just seems confused by Cartman’s behaviour but, as far as we can see, makes no further attempts to investigate the reasons behind it. This understated reaction is an indication of an (imo) often overlooked aspect of their relationship, which is that while Kyle is well aware of what Cartman is theoretically capable of, he doesn’t actually seem worried that he’d ever seriously harm him. Personally, if I found myself trapped in a cave with a person who constantly professes his hatred for me and whom I know has no qualms about killing people, and then woke up to find said person looming over me in my sleep I’d be much more worried than Kyle appears to be. In fact, considering everything that has happened over the course of their relationship and how many despicable things Cartman has done, Kyle seems Weirdly Comfortable And Safe With His Evil, Ill-Intentioned Friend. Because that’s what they are: They’re friends. To call it a complicated friendship might be an understatement but when it comes down to it the simple fact of the matter is that these two do like each other. While in earlier seasons a point could be made that they only spend time together out of necessity (with the main four being somewhat isolated from the other kids, as Craig points out in “Pandemic 2”, and Cartman originally being an incidental part of the group as ‘the friend no one likes’), they’ve both long since expanded their social circles to a point where they are no longer ‘forced’ to spend time together for lack of better options. Kyle would be more than justified in cutting Cartman off completely and yet he doesn’t and I can honestly see no real reason for this other than the fact that he simply cares about him as a person.

So I agree that Kyle probably wouldn’t react with disgust to the hypothetical reveal that Cartman harbours romantic feelings towards him. I’m not claiming that he would necessarily be elated but I’m pretty sure ‘disgust’ would not be his first reaction and I think many people who think that it would be might at least partially hold that opinion due to projection: Because while we, as viewers, are frequently meant to find Cartman repulsive both physically and emotionally (his embodiment of the 'fat bastard' trope is a key part of his character, after all), Kyle doesn’t actually appear to overtly feel that way about him – which is to say he does kinda but not exclusively and it’s all just a bit more complicated than that. Kyle being thoroughly confused does seem like the most likely reaction to me. Regarding the physical aspect: Of course Kyle frequently makes derogatory remarks about Cartman’s appearance, specifically regarding his weight (to the point where it’s been a main focus of their dynamic for almost thirty years) but we see several times that his critique actually seems to stem from a place of worry and that he feels bad when he thinks that these comments have actually managed to hurt his feelings (e.g. “Raising the Bar”). Of course, what exactly Kyle’s feelings towards Cartman are is, with good reason, a source of much discussion and I’d claim that Kyle himself isn’t very sure of this. His sentiment towards Cartman definitely seems very erratic, with Kyle going from actively attempting to get him killed in “Fatbeard” to being concerned for his emotional well-being just a season later (“201”, “Poor and Stupid”). This concern Kyle has for a person he supposedly can’t stand has been a pretty consistent part of his character in later seasons and it’s especially striking when compared to the way he disregards his best friend’s feelings when he’s in genuine need of emotional support (“Raisins”, “You’re Getting Old”). This discrepancy is not only an indicator of the complicated relationship Kyle has with Cartman but imho also hints at at least one reason for it. In a (painfully long-winded😅) comment on AO3 I just touched on the similarities between Kyle and Cartman how interesting I find the very different ways in which they deal with their shared character traits. I believe this is something that draws them towards each other, though I’m certain that neither is actually consciously aware of this. You put it so beautifully in your last sentence: "There's this sweetness to it that absolutely should not exist between these characters, but does anyway." There really is an unexpectedly soft underbelly to their relationship that is a lot of fun to explore. While I wont deny the toxic aspects of this ship (in fact, they’re a major part of what I find interesting about it), there is also the surprising potential for a real emotional connection between these characters.

[gay-dorito-dust]

What about if Stanford got sick/hurt? How do you think he’d deal with that?

Ford is stubborn as they come when it comes to injury or illness.

He doesn’t want anyone to fret over him and will try to deal with it himself first and foremost almost all of the time regardless of how he’d promise to start letting others help him, old habits die hard unfortunately and Ford was no exception to this.

He didn’t want to raise suspicions in anyone and would act like nothing was actually wrong, when it was clear as day that there was indeed something wrong. Ford just didn’t like being a burden to you, nor his family.

You’d have to force that man to sit down and force him to let you take care of him with no room to complain when you had to catch him in your arms in due to the fact that he fainted while mid sentence. It scared you to death that something bad had happened, so for when to find that he had been hiding a cold or a injury, you were more or less upset with the fact that he didn’t say anything sooner and tried to do everything by himself yet again.

So when he came to, only to find himself laying on a bed, his bed, with you hovering over him with your arms crossed, unimpressed. ‘Darling what are you-‘

‘You fainted, right in my arms when you were telling me what goblins and gnomes hate each other,’ ford winced but you continued, ‘I thought we agreed to stop hiding things Stanford Pines.’ You finished as you called him by his full name to convey your upset over this.

‘My dear I-‘

‘Don’t use the excuse that you could handle it because you obviously couldn’t or else you wouldn’t have fainted in my arms.’ You cut him off as you reached out to hold his hand. ‘You scared me Ford, you really scared me back there.’ You admitted in a whisper as you tightened your grip on his hand.

‘I’m sorry my dear, I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I just didn’t want to bother you with my own things solely on the basis that we are partners and must share each others grievances.’ Ford said as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

You smiled softly at him, knowing that you could never truly stay mad at Ford for long periods of time and kissed his forehead. ‘Well I want you to start sharing your grievances with me from now on,’ you tell him, ‘I want to help you sweetheart and I can’t do so if you keep yourself cooped up in the lab or close yourself off emotionally from the rest of us who are only trying to help.’ You finish as you go to leave Ford’s room.

‘Stay here while I go get your soup, if i see that you have taken a sock clad toe out of that bed, I’m revoking privileges.’ You warned him.

‘What privileges are you revoking my dear?’ Ford asked sheepishly.

‘Cuddling and late night campaigns of dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons.’ You told him simply as he visibly deflated as you went into the the kitchen to get his soup when you were joined by Stanley.

‘He fainted again didn’t he?’ Stanley asked.

‘Yep.’ You replied shortly.

‘What was it this time? Common cold, injured?’ Stan inquired as he helped you get a bowl for the soup intended for his stubborn brother.

‘Sleep deprivation caught up to him with a slight injury to his side, from what I don’t know.’ You told him as you thanked him for the bowl before ladling the soup into it. ‘Other than that I’m not surprised that he’s hidden it from us.’

‘Old habits die hard with my brother, there are going to be times where he won’t tell you anything in hopes of dealing with it himself, it’s all part of the lone complex he devolved while isolating himself from the rest of Gravity falls.’ Stanley said and you found yourself listening intently to it all.

‘He thinks he can do it all by himself but the moment he gets proven wrong, it makes him want to try and do it by himself even more to the point where he exhausts himself into gaining and or hurting himself further.’ Stanley continues as he leaves his back against the kitchen counter, sipping on a can of Pitt cola that seemingly magicked itself into his hand.

‘Has he always been like that?’ You asked.

Stanley chuckled. ‘Fuck no, when we were kids Ford would always come to me with whatever his big brain didn’t understand, but now after everything I’m not surprised to see that he’s become more recluse and hesitant to open up.’ Stanley saw your defeated expression and put a hand on your shoulder.

‘Don’t give up on him just yet, my smart ass brother still needs you to bring him back down to reality now and then.’ Was all he said before leaving the kitchen as you brought the soup back to Ford’s room, just to see that he had fallen asleep, not a sock clad toe out of bed too. You smiled softly as you place the soup at his bedside table and taking off his glasses before you began to ran your fingers through his hair.

‘My stubborn old fool, I love you so.’ You mused as you dedicated yourself to watching over Ford for the time being, just until he was feeling better again.

Which you did for the next couple of days, scolding him for trying to go monster hunting whilst on a cold when you spotted him trying to make a run for it out the window, not until he saw you stood there looking at him like a unimpressed parent.

Needless to say Ford went back into the really quick after that attempt.

Ford was restless and he was stubborn but you always made the best out of a shit situation by having you both cuddle in bed and have your one mini campaign of dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons to pass the time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Reading over your Savanaclaw clothing rant, and I don't know how I missed all the details you pointed out, especially about the sleeves.

I was mulling over why Ruggie has sleeves but literally everyone else doesn't, and then it hit me.... Could it be because Leona altered his uniform so that he could fully show off that lion bicep tattoo? It seems like he totally would, in a show of dominance and all that lolol. And then the mobs thought it was cool too so they followed suit. Djdnzjdjjs I could definitely see Crowley pitching a fit about the cut sleeves and then Leona would grumble, "Save your squawkin', Headmage. All the uniforms are uniform now ain't they?"

Also for the boob window thing, for an in universe theory, I think it might be to show off his jewelry? Some very quick and possibly inaccurate armchair googling shows that jewelry in Africa or Sunset Savanna I guess?? Tends to be intricate and detailed, and can indicate power, wealth, or status. I wouldn't be surprised that Leona likes a subtle way of showing off his status with his traditional accessories.

[Referencing this post!]

ONE OF MY FRIENDS (who shall not be named, but you know who you are) BULLIES ME FOR NOTICING THESE DETAILS ABOUT THEIR OUTFITS… “Wooow, you’re staring at [redacted] so much and finding excuses to do it?? You’re obsessed.” IT’S MY NEUROTICISM, IT’S WINNING OTL

You know what, that’s actually a plausible theory 😭 If I recall correctly, Leona became dorm leader in his second year at school. At that time, Ruggie would have enrolled as a first year. Once Leona came into power, he’d have the privilege of being able to alter his dorm uniform. He could remove the sleeve just to show off his tattoo and assert his dominance as the proverbial “leader of the pack.” (Side note: for the longest time, I thought the tattoo was temporary or just makeup… like the Heartslabyul card suits on their faces 💦) However, Leona would still have the dorm uniforms with sleeves from his first year, which he could have passed onto Ruggie (since it is canon that he gives Ruggie his hand-me-down clothes). And the Savanaclaw mobs are such diehard Leona stans that they’d probably go, “What, the boss is wearing his uniform like that? Cool!! Let’s do it too!” and follow his fashion statement… This might also explain why Rook appears to have (ripped off) sleeves on his Savanaclaw uniform, as he was in that dorm as a first year. He is the same year as Leona, so they would have both had the sleeves still on. This would also explain why Jack, the straight-laced first year, seems to have his uniform tailored when he enrolled. At that time, the common Savanaclaw dorm uniforms would have already been altered to have no sleeves in order to follow the leader.

BabcsqdAdSEracqvw Why can I totally see that unfolding between Crowley and Leona 😭 Crowley lamenting that it’s only supposed to be the dorm leader’s uniform that differs, so why’s it suddenly the entire dorm’s uniforms have been altered? Have they no respect for tradition??? And Leona would definitely twist the situation to turn it around on Crowley, riding on the fact that the uniforms are technically still “uniform” now.

Mmm, I guess that reasoning could make sense since Leona does have that really gaudy, chunky gold necklace, though I don’t think he’s necessarily doing it out of a sense of tradition. Leona is the type of person that usually gets annoyed with tradition and wants to make practical changes. (For example, he wants to remove the feathers from his staff but complains he would get scolded for it since the feathers represent the King of Beasts’ hornbill advisor.) However, I do believe he’s arrogant enough to want to show off his status as dorm leader and I guess being more decked out in jewelry + having a more open shirt could call attention to that. But SUBTLE??? 💀 Maybe it feels subtle in-universe but with how the devs constantly flaunt his boobs, it certainly doesn’t feel that way irl, lmao 😂 Bro’s constantly got shots of his hakuna matatas cleavage, even in other characters’ cards (*stares at Jack’s birthday boy groovy*).

He’s so pathetic and desperate to assert himself as Top Dog 🙄 Gross 💀 COVER UP, SLUT… NO ONE NEEDS TO SEE THAT…

P.S. Father Flamme 🙏 pray thee forgive me for spending all this time hyperfixating on and analyzing the Savanaclaw boys… Give me a pass, their dorm uniforms are confusing as hell 💀

[ckret2]

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

####

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

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

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

"Shut up."

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They froze, staring at each other.

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

Stan feigned a punch.

Bill flinched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

"Bill," Ford said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night, Ford."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

To see a person looming over him.

And the taste of thick metal tools in his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, you must have let something slip—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pearl crowed, "Ha!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dr. Illing gasped. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stan slammed the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never mind."

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

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

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

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

"We are not—"

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

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

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

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

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

"This was your plan!"

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

"I don't keep ladders—!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stan frowned. "Huh. Weird."

"She's upstairs?"

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

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

"Wh—yeah? How'd you..."

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

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

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

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

Dr. Illing whined. "Aw, f—again?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

[chaifootsteps]

I have been kicked out of my own home TWICE, I know what it's like to lose everything you loved and being unable to see your family member. NOT ONCE did I ever act like Stolas, I was extremely grateful for my friend's family housing me, my mother and sister. You shouldn't treat the person who literally saved you from living on the streets like some butler.

I get that for Stolas, who's lived his whole life having everything to suddenly having nothing is very hard to adjust to because I felt like that the first time, it was one of the lowest points in my life but he didn't ever thank Blitzø ONCE for giving him food and shelter. No, he had the audacity to ask for more expensive meals, make classist remarks to the imp's holiday and trash the office of an imp who worked hard there to put food on Stolas' own plate.

I HATE the excuses his fans come up with to rationalizing Stolas' attitude in Sinsmas. "He has a special diet so we can't judge him for that", BULLSHIT, he was shoveling sad spoonfuls of miserable cereal in the episode Ozzie so he can obviously consume other foods. "He's depressed so he's not thinking well", I was depressed too but at least I made sure that I was grateful to the one housing me instead of just complaining about how poor I was. "He's having a meltdown over not seeing his daughter so it's a justified crashout," I had my moments where I was incredibly angry at my circumstances where I did things out of anger I will never be proud of but I would have never have taken out my frustrations on the possessions and workplace of my friend's family especially when they entrusted me with the job of handling it.

Not everyone has the same experience of being nearly homeless and we all deal with it in our own ways but being ungrateful and inconsiderate to the people who's kind enough to make sure you can live under a roof, feed you and help you get back on your feet to build a new life for yourself has NO excuse. The least you can do for them is say the words thank you to them and somehow, with every opportunity Stolas was practically handed to on screen to say it, not once has he taken it.

This, this, this. Some of the excuses the stans make for Stolas's behavior show give you the impression that they barely understand how to interact with other humans, much less analyze a cartoon.

Most people who find themselves with nothing know enough to show some level of basic gratitude. Hell, even the ones who end up pawning their hosts' radios and stealing from their medicine cabinets say thank you before that happens.

[ilikekidsshows]

Sorry, it's a longer one. I need to get this out of my system in a save environment.

Its 6 episodes into season 6 and I'm still questioning what Marinette's "love" for Chat Noir is even supposed to be?

Her stans always go on about how much she "wuves her Kitty" and that we're just pathetic haters with no media literacy for thinking otherwise. But I'm genuinely confused what her side of Ladynoir is even bringing to the table.

There are episodes upon episodes that show that Chat Noir is basically non-existent in Marinette's head. He isn't a real person, he has no life of his own, doesn't have his own pov, and therefore doesn't need emotional support, resources or anyone on his side because Chat Noir is all he is.

There are numerous episodes since s4 about how Marinette couldn't care less about the security of the Black Cat and that she honestly never ever thinks about it for even a second (Hack-San, Kuro Neko, Ephemeral, both finales, for example). She doesn't ask if he needs something the way she always makes exceptions for herself because she doesn't WANT him to need something and therefore won't ever think about it, no matter how much it hurts him in the long run. We never see her caring about Chat Noir like that. Yeah, she "wuves" him, but clearly not enough to care for the person underneath the mask. That boy doesn't exist and she has no interest in knowing him.

Him telling her "no" one time in Elation was enough to make her want to leave him, even before Plagg shows up. Sure, she says "I hope Chat Noir is alright" when she sees him not being there, but that's scratching the bottom of the barrel too. She has all the power and resources on her side, there is nothing stopping her from using it to reach out to the boy underneath the mask so they could have finally met after they renounced in Kwamis choice. Adrien didn't had that option, only Marinette and she didn't use it because Marinette has always been perfectly fine and clear about her not wanting Chat Noir to be part of her actual life. If he isn't running around in his suit anymore then, yeah, that makes her sad, but only for a bit because that's all his existence is for her.

She isn't interested in knowing the person underneath as several episodes already showed to the point where in Elation Marinette treated finding out who Chat Noir is as a mere means to an end to get him to go back to kissing her. Not to mention her thinking nothing of it when she thought ShadowMoth akumatized him as civilian which obviously would have meant ShadowMoth KNOWS WHO CHAT NOIR IS.

Or Hack-San showing that Marinette would have accepted any random Sentimonster or villain who claimed to be Chat's substitute bc she was BAFFLED that Chat should have been told more than nothing and that all that matters wasn't just that she tells Alya to play with her pet.

Lila could steal the black cat ring now while having used her powers to create a clone of Adrien so no one notices that she murdered him and Ladybug too wouldn't bat an eye as long as Cat!Lila says she's good and a substitute. Marinette would never once ask a single question while the boy underneath Chat's mask has been murdered somewhere. Maybe after 2 weeks Ladybug would start complaining about how mean HE is to HER that he isn't showing up anymore without explaining anything. But as long as Lila has excuses, Marinette wouldn't bother caring.

Or how about Marinette falling for Cat Walker for insulting Chat Noir into the ground and dismissing him as a pathetic scumbag who just wasnt grateful enough? Sure she sends Cat Walker away, but only because it affected HER negatively and she didn't like things having ended with Chat Noir, so used her guardian privilege to force Chat Noir to come back. All while not letting go of random ass Cat Walker telling her Chat's to blame for everything because that's all she wanted to hear and doesn't care if the person is in any position to just declare her blameless.

Marinette. Does. Not. Care. That's all we see in canon.

Marinette fans can say "She wuves her kitty" all they want, the show goes out if it's way to show over and over and over again in every way possible that what she loves about Chat Noir is that he's a loyal punching bag and care taker she doesn't have to give a damn about in return to get her reward.

She has to think about everything else so she loves that she doesn't have to ever think of him. That was literally one of the things she swooned over with Cat Walker, that he showed no interest in asking her to care about who he was underneath. She was SWOONING and then sent him out of her life like the meaningless validation doll Cat Walker was for her cause she sure didn't give a SHIT about the boy underneath Cat Walker's mask either. All that mattered about his existence in the end was how he validated her. His personhood? Don't make me laugh.

Or what about Marinette now in Illustrhater once again completely forgetting about Chat Noir while taking precautions for the day she looses her memories? Her once again carelessly throwing him into the worst case scenario where he then has to find out that she didn't think it important for him too to reach her memory spirit. That she chose someone else for that who will also take over everything in the team while he probably would still be the only one indefinitely forbidden from knowing who she is as civilian "for safety reasons".

How am I supposed to think that Marinette cares about Chat Noir? That's the most depressing shit treatment of a partner I've ever seen.

What is Marinette fans pure love for him that her fans talk about? All this show ever does is proving over and over again in every way possible that Marinette doesn't give a damn about Chat Noir beyond his mask she sees in front of him because she takes comfort in having a person who's save to hurt.

What else am I supposed to see here? There is nothing! She fails every aspect of partnership by giving nothing back and leaving him with nothing while she cant be bothered to ever think of him for anything but the barest minimum imaginable (and most of the time not even THAT).

I'm genuinely CONFUSED and all Marinette stans ever say to this is "Awww, she loves him so much and unconditionally 🥰🥹" but they never EXPLAIN anything beyond that and shut down everything with "that's doesn't count" or "she didn't know and didn't mean it 🥺 stop being a mean hater" whenever we bring up how her "wuve" fails him in every way there is in this narrative that goes beyond "Marinette wants Chat Noir to wear his mask and be by her side on the battle field to support her".

Like, there is NOTHING else here. This girl contributes nothing else! She doesn't love him unconditionally. The show went out of it's way to make clear that she does not. Everything is conditional if he wants to be treated well. And she still hardly makes any effort. It's still only HIM. And If he does anything wrong he has to accept that he will be punished for it in some way because he isn't worth not being hurt. All she does as prove of her "unconditional love" is forgiving him for not being perfect and giving him another chance to learn his lesson while she says empty pretty words so he stops complaining and gives in.

She loves having him around because he's save to hurt and not care about. THATS what she fell in love with. There is nothing else and that's so fucking DEPRESSING.

---

Ladynoir is the most pathetic hero team on this side of the Watchmen and, once again, Watchmen was a purposeful deconstruction. Like, we’re honestly meant to think this one-sided, taking advantage of, sometimes downright abusive relationship is a good team? Like, Marinette genuinely thinks it's more important that she outsmarts Cat Noir than to prepare him for any threats coming their way. All she can do is whine about security risks while not giving a rat’s ass about any dangers facing his person.

Like, she hasn't had a single discussion with Cat Noir about the new enemy outside of lecturing him on how she wants him to put in more effort after she promised him time off. And that's because she can just use Alya as a sounding board instead. It's all about what she needs; the rest of the team can go fuck themselves, I guess. And it really is the rest of the team, even as Cat Noir gets it the worst since she demands the most from him while giving him no consideration, information or tools to help with those demands. He has to show up to every fight, he has to support her whenever she’s having an off day or the entire team suffers, he has to personally protect the other half of the power to reboot the universe, but god forbid he get to show up to a strategy meeting when Marinette can just have that with her civilian bestie she manipulated into taking on all of her burdens as a backup.

Such pure love between these old partners! Such good friendship between our leading ladies! Marinette is such a wonderful, giving person, and Alya and Cat Noir are ungrateful for not giving her more. Gag. Like, she even treats the rank-and-file teammates like shit, keeping them on call, butting into their business right after giving them the go-ahead to go solo and only giving them positive feedback to get them to forget how her civilian self hurt them so that she won’t have to actually fix her mess as Marinette.

It would serve her right if Lila picked off her entire team without her noticing jack shit because she's too busy securing her own comfort to worry about the literal safety of the team she's made herself responsible for.

[franki-lew-yo]

Mouthwashing and fandom discourse as a whole.

So I recently explored the tag for Mouthwashing after watching two no-commentary lets plays of the entire game. I'm seeing a lot of posts pointing out how annoying it is that this game has a fandom and that this fandom is doing fandom things and stanning/"uwu-ing" characters from this incredibly nuanced, raw and not-fandom friendly piece of art. To paraphrase someone I just saw "you don't want mouthwashing; you want Among Us ocs but darker". And

for a moment I wanna talk a bit about how I absolutely agree with this statement while also talk for a moment about how and why fandom and catharsis fan fics exist and shouldn't be shamed inherently. Or, I guess, not in theory.

The "come on! Stop trying to make everything shippable/cutsey/memey/have a happy AU and face unpleasant emotions someone's trying to tell you about!" is SUCH a vibe with me. I felt this way in the 9 fandom a lot as a kid and that was just 9. Mouthwashing is like 9 on bathsalts emotions and theme-wise. It's a game where you play as both the flawed but caring captain of a doomed ship who's life becomes a Johnny Got His Gun-nightmare, and also a deplorable, hateful piece of garbage who got himself and his friend in that nightmare situation to begin with. Both characters, moreso Jimmy but Curly too, are the causes of their own misery. They're complex dealing with one of the two committing SA and doing nothing really about it/dodging the responsibility and humanity needed to support the victim whom they've wronged.

I fully admit it's groan-inducing seeing people be shipped up Anya with anyone on the ship considering what happens to her. On a pure pr level I think it would be illegal even since romance between coworkers in a workplace is considered conflict of interest/harassment as it so often is. (NOT that what Jimmy did to Anya is 'romance'. I'm talking about the shipping of Anya with the other three guys. I know there's people out there who do ship Jimmy/Anya; you don't have to tell or show me I believe you and also I already hate it.) It's ALSO groan inducing to see people ship Curly and Jimmy considering all Jimmy does to him- and just the fact that this incredibly tragic, toxic one-way-gone array friendship is reduced to "toxic yaoi teehee". It's annoying AT BEST.

I get the hostility towards fandom-tastic stanning and fandom behavior in general...the issue is it's still hostility and I wish some of you guys got that.

Like it or not (you don't have to like it) fandom culture is inevitable to some degree. You can and should complain about your hangups but that's all you can do besides avoiding tags and just not engaging with that side of the fandom at some point. Save your call-outs and rage for when you see active deplorable bs being committed that people are excusing for dumb fandom reasons, like lolicon, hatespeech or harassment. I'm sorry but you can not actively go after and try and take down the innocent people involved in your trigger that aren't directly hurting you by liking the thing that triggers you; ie. people who get all shipping and fandom-brained about Mouthwashing's characters which you find offensive to do at all.

This type of convo is the crux of most 'antifandom' v profandom discourse in general; for Antis I think there ought to be a difference between the people that set you off bcuz of fandom nonsense vs sociopathic 'got mine'-creepiness. There's a difference between someone who draws r34 v Shadbase. For profandom types you out to face the fact that yes- maybe NOT EVERYTHING is meant to be shippable/memed. Maybe try practicing that a bit. Yeah it's mostly harmless and makes you feel happy, but considering how people outside of your hyperfixation-of-a-hyperfixation is a thing. Asking to care or think about others once in awhile is not an attack on you as a person, believe it or not. The thing about the "don't like, don't read" argument is it goes both ways. If you're truly a "good fan" like you say you are than you have to realize that people will not like your problematicisms. Learn to interact with characters and stories without the possibility of shipping sometimes- or at least understand that that's the crux of what makes a story like Mouthwashing engaging, even if you also partake in the fandumb and AUs on the side. You can call Curly your babygirl and ship him or make him happy all you want but PLEASE acoknowledge that the game doesn't woobify him or excuse what he did to Anya as well. You can make some kind of AU scenario where Jimmy gets out somehow and becomes/is a slightly better person for all I care...so long as you PLEASE remember that he is canonically a r@pist and awful. Also, even if I'm okay with your fan decisions, note that myself and others are still going to be critical and be upset that you wrote it at all because of what kind of character Jimmy is. 'Critical' =/= declaring something evil.

Fandom behaviors are not souly a destructive parasocial outcome of brainrot; they're also a natural reaction to what happens canonically and the emotions you have to experiencing a story. It's normal and rational to sympathize and love Curly and despise and hate Jimmy. You can love/like/enjoy a problematic-to-DEEPLY DISTURBED-character based on their complexity in canon. They are fiction. They are not real. The reason you are so invested with them is because of that complexity and yes because they are fiction they are your 'toy' and you can doll them up in any kind of speculative AU crap you make. That's fanfiction, baby. Make yourself a fixit fic if you really want

BUT-

remember: it stays as a fixit fic. DO NOT cross the streams, or insist that your active misreading of the text is the same as the text itself. EVER. You should care about your special interest's escapism as a means of self-care. What you shouldn't do is demand that EVERYONE ELSE LOVE your coping mechanism and that any complaints by people on their own terms on their own blogs is #badfaith or an inherent attack against you. It isn't. You'll know when it is an attack against you and that's when you, the profandom-type, need to be prepared and save your call-out posts and blocklist for.

To me that's the fragility to fandom debates and fandom as a whole. You can not/should not police or control an entire group of people and how they perceive or interact with media. That's not fair and it's definitely not sporting or decent of you in a community. You have to share your community -your fandom- with people who hate ur fav and people who love your least fav. Agreeing to disagree means not tagging your nOTP as their shipname or by tagging your shipname loud and clear. It means filtering out posts with those topics but enjoying and/or reblogging the fandom takes you do share with your fellow fandom-mite that obviously posts abt those topics.

When schmit REALLY goes down and some assface reviewer/fan/SOMETHING is being an assface or doing something amoral under the guise of fandom-ing, that's where you out to put your foot down. Callouts and complaints are for people who did an egregious thing and refuse to take responsibility(lol) for it. They're not for "soandso likes the thing that triggers me, kill them"/"so and so is hating on the thing I'm kinning because it triggers them, kill them". Be an adult.

Your DNI lists should consist of "lolicon defenders" not "proshippers", as those ARE NOT one in the same. Same goes the other way around. List off "bigots, purity culture bs", not "antis and critics". These positions ARE NOT interchangeable. If you make them interchangeable than you're making things a lot harder for yourself.

-sincerely, a message from autistic ADHD/OCD woman who likes horror and media analysis as much as she loves popcorn fanfic schlock.

We don't all have to be friends and buddybuds. I just hate us hurting each other over being different kind of fandom-folk rather than for when someone sincerely mucks up and does something bad. Can't we all stick to our guns and just boycott Harry Potter like god intended?

[taffybear]

i noticed you're a fellow Leo stan, what are your hcs regarding... mating season???

oooo i love this question!!! i have...... ideas.....

obviously 18+ so if you don't like that don't read ahead!

I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS TO BE SO LONG LMAO I JUST STARTED WRITING AND COULDNT STOP

Leonardo mating season headcanons~

baby fever to the extreme. literally if he even lets his mind wonder while in this state he'll just revert to thinking about babies. it's honestly odd to see him like this, but it also makes a lot of sense that he fantasizes about being a father. i mean, he was built for it. and so mating season also doubles as a bit of a depressing time for him as he considers that he can't actually give you a baby (YALL I AM SORRY BUT ITS BIOLOGICALLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE TURTS TO GET ANY HUMAN PREGNANT IDC WHAT YALL SAY but at least it adds angst :3)

his sensitivity levels also go through the roof at this time. he becomes even less tolerable of his brothers, especially Raphael, so consequently he comes over even more often to fuck the anger out of himself, by fucking you, how sweet. but also more than ever he needs to have someone just listen to him. usually he's the listener in your relationship, in most of his relationships really, but now he just needs to say whatever is on his mind and complain about whatever is bothering him without judgement.

the first couple of days into mating season is always a surprise to him, and he won't tell you immediately. he'll avoid the topic for as long as possible, actually. even if that means avoiding and ignoring you (although it won't last long). and you won't notice it at first either, he really only does tiny things like putting off replying to your texts, or making excuses why you shouldn't come over or invite him to your place.

but when he finally fesses up, it's only when he just can't restrain himself anymore and only talking/fucking you can fix him. it's all very embarrassing for him at first, to confess this (what he considers) dirty dark secret of his. and then to admit he needs your help to relieve himself of this burden, it makes him nauseous to imagine at first. he hates not being able to control himself through this period, to have to come crawling to you for relief, for him to feel so vulnerable. but once you assure him you are nothing but happy to help, and mating season obviously doesn't make you love him any less, he calms down a bit.

he needs lots of verbal and physical reassurance during the season. now more than ever he's desperate for your touch, sexual or not. he needs hugs and gentle kisses everywhere, he also loves resting his head in your lap as you read to him. he really just needs peace at this time.

there's lots of self contempt during his mating season too. he turns into a bit of a sex obsessed beast, every other thought of his being about how bad he wants to be inside of you, how bad he wants you full with his seed. he disgusts himself by feeling so desperate and in ache. i CANNOT stress how much you need to praise and comfort him now, most likely he won't outright tell you how he feels but just prepare to have open arms when this time of year comes around.

before mating season Leonardo wouldn't even consider having sex without foreplay first, but now he can't even muster through it. he tries his hardest to put you before himself, to thoroughly get you in the mood, but the throbbing something something just really can't wait.

on the upside y'all never need lube! he's dripping with precum by the time your panties come off.

he is constantly blushing. no matter how long y'all have been together, he still feels really self conscious during the season. with the loss of his hard-earned self control and restraint he feels like everything he does is involuntary, the result of him simply not feeling like himself. but it's adorable when you just softly graze his hardness and he lets out a soft moan before slapping his hand over his mouth.

because he doesn't feel like himself and isn't confident in how much control he has over himself, he's very frightened to actually have sex with you. he's horrified something will come over him as soon as he sees you spread out for him, so exposed for him... he's scared to hurt you, reasonably so. it was already tough the first few times you were together intimately with his size and strength, but at least then he had full control over his movements and thrusts. now he has more to worry about, but mostly how you might see him afterward. what if you see this possessive animalistic side of him and decide it's all too much for you? he turns a small realistic concern into a nonsensical slippery slope that only you can convince him is just him being paranoid. you know he could never hurt you, no matter what, so you just have to soothe and reassure him. obviously, he's the sub a lot of nights.

when he does dominate--after you do lots of coaxing and persuading that he shouldn't worry and you want this as bad as he does--he's very considerate of you the whole time you're in bed. very slow and thoughtful thrusts, more than usual at least, and he doesn't let himself go very deep at first. simply concerned with staying in control and not letting his mind wander, not letting out a peep as he tries to keep his breathing even. but when you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down and into a deep passionate kiss, willing him to go deeper and letting him actually enjoy this moment, he will loosen up and eventually allow himself to be in the moment with you. some nights are passionately slow and under constraint, while others are rougher when he's more desperate for relief and fed up with longing so bad for you.

he cums much faster during mating season, but on the plus side he's ready to go another round in under a minute. he could go 4-5 rounds most nights but you both usually call it a night when you're sore and visibly exhausted, but satisfied enough for the both of you.

he's very specific about wanting all his seed to end up in your cunt instead of anywhere else. at the end of the night you're FULL of his love. he'll use his finger to plug you up while you cuddle, or while he covers your belly in wet kisses.

the aftercare is top tier obviously, just like always. he makes sure you're comfortable and tended to before he lets himself rest in the bed to sleep. after sex, the second he manages to get out of your grasp he runs to the kitchen to get you water.

when Leo comes over to your place (which he does for most of the season) he's very clingy. he hates being in a seperate room than you, or not touching you while you're sitting on the couch or just casually laying in bed. you also absolutely deliver on blow jobs and hand jobs throughout the day. sometimes just a glance at how he reacts to you bending over to pick up something, or how he lingers at your neck to smell your hair, you know what needs to happen next. lots of quickies--gentle palming through his clothes while he washes the dishes, sliding your warm hand down his boxers while you're both sprawled out on the couch watching TV, quietly joining him while he's in the shower and greeting him with an open mouth. all in moderation to prepare you both for what the night has in store.

Leo is SO EMBARRASSED after mating season ends, when he thinks back to all the downbad things he said or the desperate things he did, he just can't think about it for too long or he won't stop cringing. he's one of those people who can't relate or imagine something until he actually experiences it in the moment, so before every mating season he tells himself that this is gonna be the one he finally keeps control of himself and successfully stifles the hormones (yeah ok sure chief).

[sepublic]

            The way Belos stans complain about the Titan’s summation of what’s morally different between Luz and Belos, is that it seems what these people wanted, a whole flashback or spiel about how Belos was raised in a Puritan society, actually goes against the point they claim to be arguing, about how it’s important to show everyone’s capacity for evil by humanizing the villain, when Luz questions what difference there is between herself and Belos.

            Because bringing up how he’s a 1600’s Puritan, ironically, would’ve absolved Luz and any viewer, just on the basis that they’re not 1600’s Puritans and don’t have to worry about becoming one. It also absolves Philip because that’s just how he was raised, except… Caleb is right there, and I thought we established “That’s just how things were back then” is racist conservative rhetoric? And ultimately, it would not account for why Jacob Hopkins is like that, as someone who lives in modern Gravesfield, which decries witch hunters as greedy and insincere. It doesn’t account for any type of modern evil.

            What the Titan actually says about arrogant delusions and control is something anyone could theoretically relate to, it’s something Luz can, and it’s something she conquered, with ‘control’ being resolved in the prior episode, in that Luz’s attempts to prevent any mistakes by not trying at all was an effort at control. And Camila explains to her, no, you just need to try anyway because mistakes happen anyway and you can’t control everything or even everyone, anymore than the Collector could with their ‘friends’ or even Belos.

            Hopkins doesn’t just establish Belos’ witch hunting motives, he perfectly sums up who Philip would’ve been in modern times; The exact same type of mediocre asshole. It was never about his circumstances, it was about who he chose to be and what he chose to prioritize, that being his ego and the power rush of being a bully to make himself feel better about his own miserable life. The parallels make it clear, it’s not really because of his historical background, because IRL some people had happy lives and still chose evil anyway. Some people just refuse to accept that they’ve done evil and consider any criticism to be an attack on their perfectly controlled worldview.         

            And in addition to what I’ve also pointed out, I think it’s another reason why Boscha’s arc in S3 was the right call; She IS someone for whom cruelty, domination, and spite come naturally. And yet she still heeded the call to mature when confronted by someone she cared about and was possessive towards, because they had been through the same thing and could relate to a decent degree. So what excuse does Belos have, after centuries?

            Plus, the idea that anyone could be cruel because they simply don’t see themselves as such, means the evil of the isles can’t be solely blamed on Belos, because if people have a responsibility to know better, even if they’re given some grace for having been fooled, then it perfectly sums up the scene with Terra, Adrian, and Vitimir in the finale; Some people just continue to choose to be terrible and don’t really need an excuse to be.

            I mean, look at Adegast or Tibbles, who weren’t really affiliated with the coven; Or the Titan Trappers, who predate by eons! And one could attempt to blame the Archivists, but at some point, the show’s point on free will makes itself clear that this capacity always existed; But at the same time, fascism makes people way more mean-spirited because it’s a system where that attitude thrives, it’s built on that Us VS Them crusade.

[atreeinthemoonlight]

I never said Elia cheated. I've never once seen a Rhaelya fan say she did. In fact, it was always Elia's fans who were dying to make her have more impact on the story or sort of revenge or whatever bullshit on Rhaegar.

I said I hope she had something for Arthur so you can focus on your own tragic romance that couldn't be and leave Rhaegar and Lyanna alone.

And it is not good for your health to keep rent-free in your head.

The classic Rhaelya fan routine—'We never said that! We’d never do that!It's always Elia's fans…'

Don’t even try to deny that many Rhaelya fans say this—just check Tumbler,Reddit or Twitter, where you’ll find takes beyond your wildest imagination. Some might even be right up your alley by the way.

You need to wake up—don’t let shipping turn your brain into mistress logic.Always hoping the wife cheats too, just to make your favorite pairing look better.That’s not romance. That’s delusion. You have to understand that speech betrays subconscious thought,these utterances don't emerge from nothingness.Your comments just prove it,what are you exactly saying after all,you said you hoped that would happen. You just found what you claim was a breaking point caused by Elia fans and used it as an excuse to speak out.

The absence of textual evidence for Elia's infidelity doesn't preclude Rhaelya fan's expectations of such scenarios.When someone confronted your secret evil thought directly, you deny it - but that's exactly yours twisted fantasy.

“it was always Elia's fans who were dying to make her have more impact on the story or sort of revenge or whatever bullshit on Rhaegar.”

Yeah,so what?why not?They don't have the right?They shouldn't do that? They shouldn't take revenge on this sweet Summer Hall born prince,or whatever bullshit on him? With that kind of behavior, even a random passerby would spit in disgust—since when do a person need to be an Elia Martell stan to see it happen?If spitting on trash requires being Team Elia, then the Internet is full of secret Dornish loyalists. Are Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark suddenly above criticism? What is this, some new form of servility?It's 2025 now,we won't get our tongue cut or head off for questioning a prince and a highborn lady?

GRRM never wrote any female companions for Lyanna in the books, yet you all freely imagined them, so why did you complain elia's fans dying to make her more impact while you just did the same for Lyanna? How fascinating that you're now dictating what Elia's fans should or shouldn't imagine about her life. By what right do you claim Lyanna alone deserves deeper characterization and backstory development? What makes you qualified to decide this?The brave cool girl deserves layers while the abandoned wife should remain a flat, boring convenient tragedy? Elia just deserves to be their background prop,a mere foil for comparison? Elia fans want her to have narrative agency,and you say they are too 'dying',their voice too loud for you?If you need to silence everyone to romanticize this problematic poison ship, maybe the problem isn't ours. But by all means, lecture others about 'healthy obsessions'.

the she-wolf fan manifesto:

Article 1: All complexity belongs to the winter rose.

Article 2:The Dorish wife should be politically married,but not successfully.Get cheated on,but not vocally.Die conveniently but not too memorably

Article 3: Anyone questioning this is 'dying' or Elia's stan.

Meanwhile, your entire fandom built a religion around two entitled brats who drop a political nuke on Westeros, then you expect generations to politely ignore the fallout and leave them alone? The Dance of Dragons left ruins, but at least it was honest madness. This? They gorged themselves on the suffering of Westeros, repackaging a continent's agony as the tragic backdrop of their great love story,and left the wounds to fester for generations,the realm still hasn’t recovered. You fans never admitted that. Why don't you draw them whispering sweet nothings under the moonlight, with a backdrop of burning villages and orphaned children? Or them cuddling atop the Tower of Joy while Westeros bleeds below?

[elainsgirl]

I want your opinion on this:

I feel like the difference between the two sides of the ACOTAR fandom is that one side defends characters whose actions might have been somewhat questionable while trying to do something good or for the greater good, while the other side defends characters whose actions have hurt the people who loved them, for no real reason.

For instance…supporters of Tamlin or Nesta or Lucien, they usually have to mention all their trauma (which all ACOTAR characters have) to excuse the things they did. At the same time, they ignore everyone else’s (especially the IC’s) trauma, while trying to take every single action of theirs out of context to try and make them seem evil. Even though everything the IC has done has had a good intention behind it. They have also saved the whole world, including their favorite characters and people still be excessively hateful towards every slightly negative thing they ever did. Meanwhile Tamlin, Nesta, Lucien have hurt people that loved them without a reason—whether that was jealousy or control or lack of empathy or anything like that, they harmed those who cared about them because they felt the right to.

I want to know what you think about this, because you seem smart in how I see you talk in other blogs.

I actually think you’re spot on anon and couldn’t agree more. The divide in the fandom (im going to be annoying but it also reflects on the shipwars) is due to this Victim vs every abuser was once a victim mentality and no one wanting to see how grey and complex each relationship is instead of it simply being “she did this therefore she’s wrong and my character is better” take.

Just focusing on Nesta’s and Feyre’s relationship (this is just a generalisation of what I’ve seen)

Feyre stans can’t like Nesta and struggle with emphasising with her character because of what she put Feyre through unnecessarily. Making Feyre think she was unloved & carrying the burden of their family’s survival and when Feyre did ask Nesta to do something it would come with complaining- basically its hard to like Nesta when she made Feyre’s already miserable life…even more miserable especially when we read about how it made Feyre feel and as a reader you can feel Feyre’s isolation and it bring this sense of anger and unfairness bcs why is Feyre the one being treated so badly when - out of the kindess of her heart (and a promise to her mother) she has been hunting for her family all these years? It makes the sisters to most readers - unrelatable and Nesta (in this regards) more so unlikeable bcs Nesta was actively acting terrible whereas Elain was kind to Feyre but just a useless airhead.

we flip this coin onto most Nesta stans that can empathise with Nesta because they know how it feels to be angry, misjudged and having walls up to keep everyone out. They understand how daunting, humiliating etc it must have felt for Nesta to have her wealth and status taken away so she’s reduced to poverty - they understand this will affect and change any childs’ behaviour especially when you consider Nesta was in her main developmental stage - the stage where everything affects you and begins to shape you as a person. Most Nesta Stans understand that Nesta’s anger was there because of how abruptly her situation changed and the one adult that was supposed to take care of them and guide them to a better life just began to say back. That anger & resentment at her useless father built up throughout the years - Nesta wanted their father to step up but he didnt, Feyre did.

narratively, we’ve had about 3 books of seeing Nesta being prickly & just an overall difficult character- those stans that liked Nesta pre-acosf had to justify their like for Nesta in a fandom that hated her and whats the best way to justify something? Invalidate something else - in this case hate & judgement came from Feyre stans so people began to invalidate Feyre and how she’s unreliable, also not perfect & made terrible mistakes. Acosf fueled takes against Feyre even more considering she forced Nesta to live in the H.O.W despite how much “choice” means to her - Nesta was given none. So thats one divide in the fandom. Feyre against Nesta.

For feyre stans its like, “how can you even like a character thats been so “abusive”, mean and just terrible to everyone around her”. Whereas Nesta stans are like, “how can you not emphasise with what nesta went through and see why it made her the way she is? You do realise your own characters aren’t perfect so why is Nesta being dogged on”

This also applies to the whole Tamlin vs Rhys debate. Or Nesta vs IC debate.

To sum it up - half the fandom agrees with “trauma isn’t an excuse” whilst the other agrees with “trauma is an explanation”

none of these characters are perfect but when you have interpreted terrible characters like Nesta and Tamlin - you can be shamed for liking them therefore as I mentioned before to justify something you invalidate something else. This fandom for a long time idolised the IC whereas they’re each heavily flawed - I think it can be frustrating for Nesta/Tamlin stans to be constantly judged for liking their characters where as no one bats an eye at inner circle stans when they gang have done bad/questionable things as well. Yet the thing with Nesta/Tamlin stans is that they take things too far to the point where the narrative Mass spent time crafting around these characters is twisted. For example- “Rhys manipulated Feyre into falling for him and has actually never given her any choice” now, come on. We know thats not true - its not the authors’ intent - is Rhys perfect? No. Is Feysand perfect? No. But to say he’s been tricking her is just false and so that brings frustrations from Feysand/IC stans bcs if you have to come up with such distorted takes on these characters then you’re biased and in the wrong.

I think it rlly comes down to your biases and which side of the take, “trauma isnt an excuse vs trauma is an explanation” you agree the most with.

[42ap]

What if the wax statue of Stan did come to life and is now a rolling talking head. Before Ford return, Stan would use wax!Stan as a practice of what to he wants to say to Ford.

When Ford returns, Stan became intimated to his brother's current state and decides to keep his feelings to himself; thus, causing him to shut off from Ford. Ford sees this as Stan still being mad at him.

While Ford continues being oblivious to Stan's true feelings until he stumbled upon a wax head of Stan. He proceeds to tell wax!Stan all the things he wishes to say to Stan but is too stubborn to.

In the end, it turns out the head was alive and proceed to openly both how the other feel.

This is such a brilliant idea! I can just imagine how utterly broken wax!Stan would be, caught between two stubborn old men who won’t tell the truth, ahhhhh! So much gossip, so much trouble😭 Poor wax!Stan must spend every night in the pipes, complaining to other wax figures and mice about how much idiotic emotional conflict he has to endure every day.

The final eruption scene for wax!Stan could be something like this: when the two of them start fighting again, they’re arguing so intensely that even the kids have to come and try to stop them. Ford says, “You won’t even talk to me!” and Stan replies, “Excuse me? Who’s the one trying to kick me out?!”

Then, there's a loud crash above their heads, and wax!Stan falls down from the upper level, landing in the middle of the table, and then says, “Can you two stop lying already? I’ve had enough! You! Can you finally summon the courage to admit you regret what you said, that you want him to stay? You! Can you have the guts to say just a tenth of those things you only say to me? Are you really prepared to die alone with all these unsaid words, you coward!”

Then, everyone falls silent. Dipper and Mabel exchange a look, then leave the room with the still-screaming wax!Stan, leaving Ford and Stan in awkward silence.

Stanford: “Okay, sorry. Honestly, I didn’t want to kick you out.”

Stanford: “So, what exactly was that wax head trying to make you say...?”

[sixerstanley]

Ghost Stan Ghost Stan Ghost Stan I'm going INSANE

BECAUSE STANLEY COULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING WITH HIS AFTERLIFE, HE WAS A GHOST, HE COULD SEE ALL THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD THAT HE WANTS, HE COULD SEE THE OPEN OCEAN AND LOOK FOR MERMAIDS AND EXPLORE THE DEPTHS OF THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN OR EVEN GO TO SPACE IF HE REALLY WANTED TO BUT NO. HE'S SPENDING HIS AFTERLIFE IN FORD'S QUIET HOUSE LISTENING TO PEN SCRATCHING PAPER IN SILENCE FOR HOURS AND DAYS AND YEARS, AFRAID TO LET HIMSELF BE KNOWN BUT ALSO WANTING MORE THAN ANYTHING TO WATCH OVER HIS BROTHER-- I'm sobbing

And Ford doesn't even knowwww, all he knows is that 30-or-so years ago his Ma complained on the phone that she hadn't gotten a call from Stanley in six months and she was worried, but that wasn't new, Stanley had always worried their Ma, Ford chalked it up to Stanley being selfish and tried not to think about how Stanley never reached out to him once. He thought Stanley had made it big somewhere and stopped bothering to calm down their Ma, and didn't feel the need to ever even talk to Ford once. But then he sees the ghost in his living room, the ghost of a twenty-something when he was nearly 60, and all his faulty excuses came up short, because the man in front of him was closer to his niblings' ages than his, and he had just been there for Ford all this time while Ford thought such cruel things about him.

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED ABOUT THIS ANON BC ITS LITERALLY MAKING ME ILL AND INSANE

GOD you're so good at this??? its like ur reading my mind and the vibes i want for this.

Ford being so so so bitter toward stan because he doesn't even KNOW! do you think stan, when he first died, wondered how long it was gonna take for ford to find out? but...he never does? And stan has to realize that his PARENTS didn't realize--or maybe they just didn't care enough (filbrick at least)

or maybe stan wonders if ford DOES know...but just doesn't care enough. too bitter about everything. ough

i think stan would realize eventually that ford just doesn't know but it doesn't exactly make him feel better

Yeah god--stan being so young when he died is enough for ford to just. throw up. and i don't even mean that in a comedic way, like he's sick to his fucking stomach with all these realizations. all this time spent being bitter when he should've been mourning