#the blue void is who i am on the inside

[discountdyke]

.

[ckret2]

Chapter 40 of human Bill Cipher, in spite of his fondest hopes, still being stuck in the Mystery Shack:

As much as Gideon wants out of the evil magic game, the survival of his father's used car dealership rides on Gideon's help.

And, relatedly, Bill's started receiving psychic car commercials.

1981

Ford had been in his study for what felt like forever, staring at the pile of papers and numbers on his desk, trying to stop the figures from shifting and swimming before his eyes; when something from behind him lit up the dim room with golden light and he a heard a familiar voice behind his shoulder—

"Heeey, Stanford! You've been having a lot of dreams about tax forms lately, what gives?"

Ford was startled out of his thoughts. He turned around, smiling in relief. "Oh, Bill! Hello." Apparently he was dreaming. Thank goodness. It explained why he couldn't seem to get these forms to make sense. "How long have you been watching me?"

"About twenty years."

"What?"

"About twenty minutes," Bill said. "I wasn't going to bug you tonight, but usually your dreams are a little more adventurous! You're starting to worry me, kid." He disintegrated the tax forms with a gesture and floated down to sit on Ford's desk, like a razor-thin glowing paperweight. It was strange to see him cross his legs. "What's on your subconscious?"

Ford hadn't thought his Muse cared that much about his day-to-day human troubles. It was comforting to know someone was worrying about him—someone so far beyond human potential that maybe Ford didn't have to worry he'd be disappointed to learn Ford was struggling a little. "It's my grant money," he sighed. "I feel like my research into Gravity Falls is nowhere near completion, but that money will only last for so long. It won't be long before I'll need to ask for more funding, and I'll have a hard time convincing anyone if I don't have anything to show for it, but I don't want to share incomplete research..."

"Ah, money. The second-worst curse human society's ever inflicted on itself."

"What's the worst one?"

"Marriage."

Ford barked a laugh. It wasn't even that funny a joke; it was just such unexpectedly human cynicism for such an otherworldly entity. It sounded like a joke Ford's dad would make.

"Well, money. What to do..." Bill drummed his fingers on Ford's desk, gazing off into the distance as he thought. Ford realized that, at some point while he was distracted, most of his study had vanished, leaving his desk and chair sitting precariously atop a faint gridded plane in the starry blue void where he usually met Bill. Finally, Bill said, "Have you considered buying gold?"

He hadn't. "Will it help?"

"Sure it will! Eventually!"

"In time to help pay my mortgage?"

"Hmm." Bill thought a moment longer, then snapped his fingers. "Got an idea." He floated off of Ford's desk to eye level, strange sigils appearing in white-blue light around him. "Do you happen to know where the people who decide your funding live?"

"Er... the general area." It had to be near the Backupsmore campus, didn't it?

"Then I might be able to help you!" The symbols solidified around Bill. "I know a little spell to help persuade people. It'll let you plant ideas in their dreams—give 'em a little subliminal nudge. It could make some bigwigs come around on the importance of the research you're doing out here."

A fascinating concept. Ford studied the sigils greedily. He didn't recognize them, but they looked fairly simple. "You're not... talking about mind control?"

"Nah, that's not in my wheelhouse. It'll just let you... talk to them! Like I talk to you! I'm not controlling you, am I?" His eye curved up in a facsimile of a smile. "But you'll find most people have a harder time ignoring you when you're talking to them inside their own heads. What they do with that when they wake up is up to them. Just think of it as a way to schedule an interview where you'll have their undivided attention."

Ford pressed his lips together as he thought; then shook his head. "Thank you, Bill, but no. I wouldn't feel right earning money that way. I'd rather know they were impressed by the scientific and historical value of my work—and if I use magic, I'll never know for sure if they really thought my work measured up."

Bill laughed. "That's what I like about you, Stanford! You really shoot for the stars—and you've got the work ethic to get there! You don't want the fame and fortune unless you earn it!"

Ford was momentarily taken aback. It was rare that his muse openly complimented him; on most nights he dealt with Ford with a sort of cool, detached fondness, something a little too distant to be real affection. When he did voice his approval, it was like the sun coming out after a month of cloud cover. There were nights, when Ford was really feeling his isolation in these woods and he'd half convinced himself all his years of research had been a waste of time, when he was half willing to chase that sunshine to the ends of the earth.

"You'll do whatever it takes to finish your research, won't you?" Bill asked.

Ford gave Bill an awkward, self-conscious smile. "Of course I will. How could I not?"

"Hey, not everyone has your ambition! Most people take the easy way to the top. Cheating, copying, riding on greater men's coattails... Some guys earn the dough to buy their gold, others just want to dig for someone else's." Bill spread his hands in a shrug. "Well, it was an idea." The sigils started to fade.

Ford raised a hand. "Hold on. I don't want to use it, but... do you think I could learn that spell anyway?" He smiled hopefully. "For research?"

"For fun?"

"For fun."

Bill laughed. "I was waiting for you to ask!" The sigils reappeared, and next to them appeared an incantation. "All right, I'll walk you through it. Pay attention, I don't think you've got enough time to go over it twice this REM cycle."

Ford nodded, focusing fully on Bill, determined to remember the spell well enough to record it in Journal 2 when he woke up.

####

Spring, 2013

Tentatively, Bud Gleeful said, "Son... now, I know you lost that spooky grimoire of yours. But... don't you have anything left that might help out the dealership?"

Gideon growled in irritation. "I told you, father! Everything I knew was in Journal 2! It's gone! Anyway, I'm just trying to be a normal kid now. I don't want to get mixed up in any more magic. I'm through with it."

"I understand," Bud said, nodding. "And I think that's mighty admirable of you, turning over a new leaf like that. Shows real maturity." He hesitated, wringing his hands together. He pre-emptively winced and said, "But it's just that... business hasn't exactly been booming, ever since your little tenure as Bill's sheriff. And you know I love the fellas you made friends with in the penitentiary, they're all such... colorful characters; but having them hang around does make folks a little wary to drive into the parking lot..."

Volume doubling, Gideon snapped, "Are you saying it's my fault?!"

"No, son, no. You know I'd never." Bud knelt down, and—cautiously, like he was trying to pet a feral cat—put a hand on Gideon's shoulder. "But, well... business is slumping, that's all. We'll be fine as long as we live within our means, don't you worry about that—but our means might not cover luxuries like those fancy suits and fine new boots you like so much, you understand."

Gideon lowered his gaze, tugging self-consciously on the sleeve of his favorite suit jacket. It was already just a little too short to be fashionable; he probably didn't have long until he outgrew it completely.

"Your mother and I are doing all we can," Bud said. "If there's anything you can do... well, you don't have to, of course. But—it'd be a mighty big help."

Gideon grit his teeth, glaring at his feet. (How long until he outgrew all his shoes? He had a growth spurt coming "any day now," he'd been told. The prospect didn't excite him.) He balled his hands into fists; and then muttered, "There... might be one spell I remember... the sigils were pretty simple..."

####

June 2013

Bill could see it in his mind's eye: if he kept pushing and pushing eventually there'd be no more room in two dimensional space for his mother to fill, and then she'd be forced to bend UP, up into the third dimension, all that open free space. Then she'd see the dark, she'd see the far points of light—

"STOP!" His mother howled in pain. He kept pushing. She was out of room. She didn't bend up. He shoved—and she splintered. Bone snapping, cartilage tearing, he could see inside her thin body as things broke and ruptured. He didn't know what to do.

And for several long, long seconds—he couldn't remember what was happening. The world seemed to bend wrong, and he couldn't remember.

At least, he couldn't have remembered a few weeks ago. He hadn't wanted to. But he'd been studying a book on lucid dreaming since then; and the first things it taught was how to remember more of his dreams. And now, he recalled exactly what happened next when he pushed his mother and she splintered and ruptured:

He pushed harder.

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

"You want me to tell everyone the third dimension's full of dead shapes?! Huh?!" All he could see was blood and bone and peeling skin. "Then why don't you go find them for me!" He let out an angry, hysterical, broken laugh.

Her hand grabbed weakly at his.

He let go and jolted back, gasping—and almost retched. What had he done? He hadn't meant to. But he'd kept pushing—but it was too late by then. It was too late by then, wasn't it?

"What have you done?"

Bill whirled around to face— "Dad?"

The green trapezoid looked as sick as Bill felt, eye darting in horror across the crumpled line in the corner. He couldn't even see most of it from where he was—his eye didn't work like Bill's, he couldn't look through the mess of skin to the gore beneath.

"It was an accident," Bill whispered. (He'd kept pushing.) "It really was, I promise."

His father tore his eye from the corpse to Bill's face. "What are we going to tell your followers?"

Bill looked past his father. Through a wall so thin Bill almost couldn't see it, hundreds upon hundreds of shapes were settled, waiting—to see him. He was sure: somehow, somehow, they could see him too. They knew what he'd done. His life was over.

A thunderous voice boomed, "Whooee, what a fix! Boy, you look like you could use a getaway car, couldn't you?"

Bill blinked. He blinked again. He looked up-but-not-north.

A human in a pink Hawaiian shirt, standing on top of the universe, looked down at him.

Bill said, "What."

"Here, let me just—getcha right—" The human plunged his hand through the second dimension, scooped beneath Bill, and popped him right up off the surface of the universe. "Now, if you'll pardon my saying so, you look like you could use a little help getting somewhere far, far away from here!"

Bill stared at him. "What."

"And I've got just the thing to help you!" the human declared. "Aren't you feeling stuck? Trapped? Just can't take your obligations anymore? Miserable you can't hit the road and see all of—well—" he gestured vaguely out at the flat surface of the universe stretching into the distance "—whatever this is? Then you need to visit your buddy Bud Gleeful—(that's me)—at Gleeful's Auto Sales, the finest used car dealership in Roadkill County! We'll get you a set of wheels that'll carry you on the cross-country police-evading tour of your dreams!" He dropped his voice and murmured to Bill from behind his hand, "Warranty expires at the state line."

"What." Bill looked down at the universe—and was disappointed but not surprised to see he wasn't a triangle anymore, but a human. He looked at Bud again. "Are you advertising to me. Is this an advertisement. Am I getting advertised to in my sleep."

"And if you sign before you leave, we'll throw in a free air freshener," Bud added.

Bill stared at him in horrified amazement. "I am going to kill you," he said. "And then I'm going to wake up and kill you in real life."

"Ah, well. That's a right shame."

####

Bill shot straight up with a roar of rage. "Oh, when I get my hands on...!"

"Whoa. Bad dream?"

Bill whirled around with a murderous glare. Dipper's spirit, ghastly and pale, was hovering in the middle of the attic. Bill snapped, "You're a bad dream!" He scrambled after the spirit.

"Whoa! Hey!" Dipper tried to swoop away from Bill toward the stairs.

Bill caught him by the back of the neck. "You are going back in your bo—bed, you're getting in, and you're not getting back out."

"Ow, let go!" Dipper squirmed in Bill's grip, kicking his feet in the air. "I was just going to turn off the TV! I heard it playing an advertisement, I think that's what put me in... you know." He gestured at himself. "The sleepwalking dream."

Bill hesitated in front of the kids' door. "What advertisement?"

"I don't know, it was too far away to tell. But I know it was an advertisement, it sounded... advertise-y."

"Hmm." Bill considered that. And then he flung Dipper's soul through the door.

"HEY!"

"I'll turn off the TV," Bill said. "Go back to sleep!"

Ugh. Everything ached, his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out in an attempt to escape and go forage for food independently, and the world held a vindictive grudge against Bill personally. He trudged downstairs, muttering crabbily to himself.

He wasn't surprised to discover the TV was off.

####

"I'm conducting a survey," Bill said. "Did you hear any advertisements from the TV last night? Maybe have any dreams that might have been influenced by hearing an ad?"

"Uh..." Soos slowed at the bottom of the stairs as he thought. "Nope. Slept like a baby all night."

"Interesting." He waved at Melody to try to catch her attention. "Hey, how about you?"

"Nope!" Already dressed for work, she hurried from the stairs to the living room without even glancing Bill's way. She tended not to linger when he was nearby. He told himself he was flattered.

"Dude," Soos said, "What happened to your arm?"

Bill looked down. On the underside of his forearm were two thick lines set at an angle, burned so dark brown they were nearly black. "Leaned on the stove after someone used the burner. Oops."

"Do you need...?"

"Don't worry about it, it's already healing." Bill rolled down his hoodie's sleeves as he leaned into the kitchen, "How 'bout you, Stan? Hear any phantom ads last night?"

"Nuh-uh. But I sleep with my hearing aids out," Stan said. "The only things loud and grating enough to wake me are a car horn or your voice."

"Ha!" Bill looked from Stan's side of the table to Ford's—and Ford wasn't facing him, but he was glancing from the corner of his eye toward Bill's arms.

Bill turned away without asking anything. No point. Obviously, Ford had been too far underground to have picked up anything. Bill told himself Ford was seething at getting the cold shoulder.

"What're we talking about?" Mabel asked, coming downstairs with Dipper close behind.

Bill looked at her—and then let his gaze sweep past her with the same cold disinterest he'd favored Ford with. He brushed past her to head upstairs. "Hey, somnambulist." He shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes as he passed. "TV was off. No one else heard anything. You dreamed your stupid ad."

"Hey." Dipper pulled his hat back up. "Jerk."

Mabel called, "Bill?"

He ignored her and kept walking.

####

"What was that all about?"

Bill was curled up in the attic window seat, flipping covetously through an issue of Gold Chains For Old Men; at the sound of Mabel's irritated voice, he merely said, "Oh, hello." He turned another page. "Here to try to make a fool of me some more?"

She planted her hands on her hips. "Bill, what are you talking about?"

"Tell me about those 'Mysteries' of yours. Did you plan your story any deeper than that? Were you going to arrange for me to catch you with a cloak and dagger just to make me wonder?"

Mabel paused. "Oh." She laughed weakly.

"So how many people were in on it, huh? Was it just you and Stanford, or did you have the whole house laughing at me behind my back?"

"It—it was just us two." She leaned on the wall by Bill's feet. "Um, so... are you actually mad?"

He shot her a venomous look, then lifted his magazine so he couldn't see her any more.

"Come on!" She poked his knee. "It was a harmless prank! And you lie to everyone all the time."

"No I don't."

"You're so sensitive."

"I am not," Bill said indignantly. "I'm proud. I have pride. And lately pride's about the only thing I have going for me. And I didn't think a friend would try to undermine it."

Mabel heaved a sigh. "Okay, all right. Sorry."

Bill lowered his magazine to peer at her skeptically. "Are you really?"

"Well, yeah." She leaned against the window seat. "It was just a joke, I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He stared her down a moment longer, assessing her sincerity. And then he sat up and pulled her into a hug.

She squawked in surprise, but returned the embrace. "Bill! What—?"

"You're sweet, you know that, star girl?" He gave her one last squeeze and let her go. "When you aren't trying to make me look dumb. But you don't rub salt in the wounds, that's what matters."

"Pfff. I kinda think you'd try to kill me if I did."

"Mmyeah, I might." He wouldn't. Only person in this entire dull rotten world who was willing to apologize for wronging him. He wasn't giving her up easily. "Hey—did you happen to hear any commercials last night? Maybe have any dreams that might've been caused by one?"

"Nope! I had a dream about cats fighting a war against an octopus."

"Oh, that one. Did the octopus win or did the lions show up in time?"

Mabel paused. "It's always creepy when you do that. But the octopus won this time."

"Aww. That poor picturesque beach town."

"I tried to get between the octopus and the town when the cats failed."

"Did you stop it?"

Mabel shrugged. "Dunno. I woke up before it reached me."

"Too bad! But hey—you've been making big progress with your lucid dreaming. You'll get it next time!" No salesmen offering cars as war chariots for the cats, though. It was almost a pity. Bill would've liked to hear about Bud getting eaten by a giant octopus.

"So I guess Dipper was the only one who thought he heard a commercial."

Dipper and Bill. "Guess so."

####

The large, empty floor room, down the main hallway at the far end of the house, was among the few places Bill was allowed to go. Except when the humans had some big event like a dance or a museum exhibit planned, there was nothing in it but a flat old sofa, a fireplace he couldn't turn on, and Soos's electric piano taunting him. In spite of its relative isolation from the rest of the household, Bill rarely had reason to visit it.

But when he wanted space to pace and think, there was no better room.

Last night's advertisement was magic, no doubt. And he suspected he knew the exact spell. The Mystery Shack was way on the outskirts of Gravity Falls; probably nobody else here was affected because they were just out of range of the signal. The only reason Dipper had nearly picked it up was because he didn't have his thick skull in the way when his spirit was out of his body.

But Bill's psychic abilities had been heavily suppressed since he was put in this body. How was he channeling the signal so much more clearly than anyone else?

He thoughtfully ran his tongue over his new golden tooth. "Hmm."

####

Bud entered the Gleeful house flipping through a pile of mail. "Junk, junk, bills, junk... Here's your subscription, honeybunch." He held out an issue of Nervous Wrecks Weekly magazine. His wife paused her cycle of polishing the front window to stiffly take it.

"Junk, coupons... Gideon! You've got a fan letter!" He checked for a stamp indicating the tiny envelope had passed through a state correctional facility. "And it isn't even from the prison, isn't that nice!"

"Coming!" Gideon ran out of his room, snatched the letter from Bud's hand with a little grunt, ran back to his room giggling, and slammed the door.

Bud chuckled. "Joy, sweetie, you remember when that boy got so much fanmail he used to throw it out? These days he's excited for every single letter." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Suppose it's good for him, learning to appreciate the little things."

"Mhm." She looked down at the roses outside the window. She'd need to trim those soon. "I suppose it is."

In his room, Gideon studied the odd envelope. It was tiny—barely large enough for the address and the stamp, no return address—and when he turned it over he discovered lines of text printed on the paper. The flap was tucked carefully into a fold in the envelope that held it tight.

As he pulled out the flap, he realized that the envelope wasn't held together with glue; it was some sort of cleverly-folded origami craft that began to unfold in his hands as he pulled out the flap. The letter was written on the inside of the envelope. "Why—what a delightful little creation!" He sat at his dressing table to focus on unfolding the letter, careful not to damage it so he could re-fold it later.

Once he'd smoothed it out, he could see that the paper was carefully torn from a book. The outside of the envelope was made from the last page of a chapter, with only a few lines of text at the top of the page and the rest left conveniently blank. It talked about telling the difference between waking and dreaming.

He turned the page over to read the letter.

GIDEON–

IT'S ADORABLE THAT YOU'RE USING A DREAM COUNTERFEITING SPELL FOR CAPITALISM! I BET YOUR PARENTS ARE PROUD! HOWEVER, MY FILLINGS ARE PICKING UP AUTO DEALERSHIP ADS ALL NIGHT. IT'S REALLY ANNOYING. CUT IT OUT.

In place of a signature, there was a triangle with an eye.

Gideon's blood ran cold.

He read the letter again, then studied the words themselves. He didn't recognize the tall, thin, crooked handwriting. He flipped over the envelope. No return address. He noticed for the first time that the letter wasn't addressed to "Gideon". It said "STAR BOY". Fan mail. Right.

The postmark was from Gravity Falls.

"It can't be Bill," Gideon muttered to himself. "Bill's dead. It's got to be some prankster with a twisted sense of humor..."

But then, how could some prankster know he was doing dream magic? Did anyone else even know that Bill had called him "Star Boy"?

No. It had to be a prankster. If Bill were alive, he'd be doing much worse than sending letters and complaining about fillings.

He crumpled up the letter and threw it away. His father's business needed Gideon to do whatever he could to help. Gideon's own financial future depended on it. He wasn't about to let some prankster stop him.

####

There was a rumble of several motorcycles and a revving car engine outside the Gleeful house, disturbing the late evening still. Gideon came in the front door wearing a little backpack, waving behind himself as he came in. "Thanks for the ride, Ghost-Eyes! Good talk today! I'll see y'all this weekend for brunch!" He shut the door as the engines receded into the distance.

"Welcome home, son," Bud said from the couch. "How were the ex-convicts this week?"

"Oh, great, just great. Graybeard's daughter is gonna let him meet his grandson and Spiderwebs got a new job."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear. I know you were real concerned for Spiderwebs."

"I shouldn't have worried! He got work at an alpaca ranch on the other side of town, did you know there's an alpaca ranch 'round here?"

"Can't say I did!"

"I think it's a good fit for him. Being out in nature calms him down."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as they waited a polite amount of time to change the topic. In the kitchen, Joy cleaned the same dish for the third time.

Bud cleared his throat. "Well, uh—you know, it's been a couple of days since we've run a 'nighttime ad.' Do you think it's a good time to...?"

Gideon squeezed his backpack's straps. He could still see that spindly text reading "STAR BOY". "Do you think? I don't want to put 'em too close together, folks might notice..."

Bud grimaced. "It can't hurt. It's been almost two weeks since I sold a car."

Gideon scowled. But he nodded. "Yeah, all right. I'll go set up."

"You know how much your mother and I appreciate it," Bud said. "I'll go heat up dinner."

Gideon went to his room, tossed his backpack on his bed, rolled out the tarp on which he'd drawn the circle and sigils in permanent marker, and set up the candlesticks and candles around the perimeter. His father called him to dinner; they watched an evening talk show; and after a little more dawdling, they figured it was late enough that most folks would be asleep, and went to Gideon's room to get to work.

As Bud awkwardly lowered himself to sit in the circle and Gideon lit the candles, Gideon asked, "Father, do you ever... remember who you talk to? I mean, whose dreams you're in?"

Bud considered that, pursing his lips. "No, can't say I do. It's a bit like I'm dreaming myself," he said. "And it's sort of a jumble of a few hundred dreams, too. Like I'm visiting the whole town at once. All I can recall is a blur!"

Gideon frowned. "I see."

"You sure you don't want to be sitting in the circle this time?" Bud asked. "I'd bet if folks saw you in their dreams telling them to buy a car, why, they'd just rush right down."

These days, Gideon wasn't so sure. Sourly, he said, "I don't want to get involved." He'd gotten enough of starring in his father's car commercials when he was younger. He'd thought he'd escaped that completely when he picked up the telepathy act; he didn't relish the thought of using telepathy to star in another car commercial.

"All right, suit yourself. Just keep it in mind." Bud got as comfortable as he could on the floor and shut his eyes.

Gideon took a deep breath and began chanting: "Dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away..."

The flames flickered and turned bright blue. A purplish shimmery light surrounded Bud; and as Gideon kept chanting, the light expanded to the edge of the circle and beyond, creeping across the floor, over the bed—

A shrill wail filled the room. They both started, losing their concentration. The wail persisted several seconds before it resolved into a eardrum-bursting roar of words: "HI I'M SCOUT YOUNGER AND I'M IN A PICKLE SO YOU CAN DRIVE FOR A NICKEL! I'VE GOT SO MANY CARS I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO PUT 'EM! SO WE'RE GIVING THEM AWAY FOR FIVE CENTS, THAT'S RIGHT FIVE CENTS! SCOUT YOUNGER, I'M A DEALER BY THE PEOPLE FOR THE PEOPLE—"

"Dagnabbit," Bud shouted, "that's the man undermining my no-barter-for-a-quarter deal and getting all my business! He's halfway to Portland—but darn it, his commercials are so catchy!"

"—THAT'S YOUNGER PATRIOT CARS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF INTERSTATE—" The commercial was cut off with a clap of thunder that made them both jump again.

And before the dying rumbles of the thunder had fully faded, a second voice spoke—a high-pitched, furious shriek that Gideon hadn't heard in nearly a year but instantly recognized: "SEE HOW YOU LIKE GETTING USED CAR ADS SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, YOU LITTLE TWERP. THIS IS MY FINAL WARNING!"

There was another crack of thunder; and then nothing.

Nothing but a faint, muffled, mechanical whir coming from Gideon's bed.

Slowly, Bud said, "Is that...?"

Gideon looked under his bed; then on top, tugging over his backpack and unzipping it; and he pulled out a still-running cassette tape player. A complicated sigil was painted on top of the player and stretched over the play button, glowing shimmery purple as though it had absorbed the magic from Gideon's spell.

Bud took the tape player, stopped it, rewound a bit, turned down the volume dial, and hit play: "—your throat in the middle of the night, you little—"

He stopped the tape. He and Gideon looked at each other.

Bud said, "Don't tell your mother."

####

"Third lap!" Dipper crowed as his car zoomed over the line on the digital racetrack. "You'd better catch up fast!"

"Aw, c'mon," Mabel groaned. She tilted her body along with her game controller as she steered her car around a tricky curve, as though that would help her go a little faster. "No fair, I'd be winning if you didn't throw a goose at me—"

"Pff, shut up, you always use the goose."

Bill was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the fish tank—as far as either Dipper or Mabel could tell, having a staring contest with the axolotl—but without breaking eye contact with the tank, he leaned over to elbow Dipper's knee. "Hey kid. Go left."

"What? No, shut up." Dipper tried to kick Bill's arm away.

"Go left. Trust me, it's a hidden shortcut."

"No! You're not even watching."

"I'm psychic. Go left."

"No." Dipper jerked his car to the right. It drove off the track and landed in quicksand. "Aw, man—"

"YES!" Mabel sailed past him. A fanfare played as she crossed the finish line. "The winner! Woo-woooo!"

Bill beamed as Dipper glared at the side of his face.

Somebody knocked on the door—and kept knocking, frantically hammering for attention. Dipper and Mabel looked over.

Bill glanced over, rolled his eyes, said, "You don't want to answer that," and looked back at the fish tank.

Dipper glared at him again, stood, and went to answer the door, Mabel close behind. "Hel— Gideon?"

"Told you," Bill muttered.

Gideon was sweating, panting, and wild-eyed with panic. "Mabel! Dipper!" He paused to give Mabel a sweet smile. "Hi Mabel~♡" And straight back to panic. "We've got a problem! I know y'all don't want me 'round here, but—but this is an emergency!"

Dipper glanced at Mabel. She sighed, but reluctantly stepped back to let Gideon in. "All right. What is it?"

"I know I sound insane, but—but you have to trust me," Gideon said. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, but Bill Cipher's back! I'm sure it's Bill, it can't be anyone else, he... he knows things only somebody with his powers could know!" He paced anxiously in front of the twins, "He's been sending me threatening mail and harassing me and—and I don't know what he's up to, but we've got to find him and stop him! You've gotta help me!" He grabbed Dipper's arms. "I think he might be trying to kill my family!"

Dipper and Mabel turned to glare at Bill.

He was determinedly studying the fish tank.

"Hey, Goldie," Dipper snapped.

Bill glanced over with an expression of mild interest. "Hm?"

"Gideon here says that Bill's been harassing him," Dipper said. "What do you think about that."

"Oh wow," Bill said, extremely unconvincingly. "That's so crazy. I can't even believe it."

Gideon's anxious gaze darted past Dipper and Mabel. "Who's...?" He thought he remembered seeing that stranger around Wendy.

Dipper stepped between their line of sight. "Thanks, Gideon. We'll handle this... problem."

The stranger got to his feet and sauntered to the entryway. "Hey Gideon. Just out of curiosity, what were y—"

Mabel cut in, "Bye, Gideon!" She tried to push him toward the door. "We'll see you later!"

The stranger leaned over Gideon, planting a hand on the doorframe. "—what were you doing that got on Bill's nerves so much, I wonder—"

"Shhh!" Mabel tried to push Bill away.

Had Gideon not heard the voice so recently, he might not have noticed anything odd about the stranger in front of him. But as it was, a chill instantly ran up his spine. He slowly looked up. The menacing smile was unfamiliar, but the eye... something was wrong with that eye. The longer he stared into it, the more he could see the cruel, mad, golden inhumanity.

Gideon squealed in terror and bolted out the door. 

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "Seriously?"

Mabel chased after him. "Gideon! Gideon wait!" She caught up with him rounding in front of the gift shop and had to tackle him into the dirt.

"Get offa me! You're working for him, you traitor—"

"Gideon, listen! We're not working for him, he's our prisoner!"

"Oh." Gideon stopped struggling. "Well, that's a different kettle of corn, isn't it."

Mabel sighed in relief. She backed off Gideon, but had to hold his ankle to make sure he wouldn't bolt again. "Okay, look. We don't know how, but Bill's stuck in a human body, and he's got no powers."

"How do y'all know he isn't faking it?"

"Because he tried to kill us and we beat him up." She winced. "We've... kind of beat him up a lot."

Gideon nodded. "O... okay."

"But you can't tell anybody," Mabel said. "If there's an angry mob or something and he gets executed, the real Bill might hatch from his body like an egg and he'll take over the town again!"

Gideon shuddered. He could almost still feel ache in his legs and the blisters on his feet under the adorable sparkly pink shoes.

"So he's fine here with us. We've got everything under control, he's not dangerous like this—" Mabel turned around to shout, "—and HE SHOULDN'T BE SENDING THREATENING LETTERS, BILL."

Bill's voice drifted from around the corner of the house: "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!"

Dipper said, "What did Gideon do to warrant that, anyway?"

Bill glowered into the distance. "He knows what he did."

"Okay, I-I won't tell anyone. I promise." Pitifully, Gideon asked, "Can I go home now?"

"Yeah, you can go home now." Mabel let him go. He got up and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.

####

They reconvened in the living room. Dipper and Mabel stood in front of Bill, glaring. Bill sat on the sofa, smiling innocently.

"Bill," Mabel said. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Oh, yeah?" Lots of people thought he should be ashamed of himself, but not many had the guts to say so.

"Bullying Gideon like that!"

"I have an excuse," Bill said. "I've been crabby this week. Body made me crabby. Some kind of human neurotransmitter imbalance. I didn't sign up to have neurotransmitters, it's completely out of my hands."

"That's not an excuse," Dipper said.

"Plus, you're an entire adult thing!" Mabel said. "You're picking on a little kid! He's like, eleven!"

"So? There's not a lot of difference between eleven and a hundred eleven when you're a million million years old."

"Then maybe you're too old to bully anybody."

Bill blinked in mild surprise. "Huh."

Dipper said, "Plus, you're gonna blow your cover and get everyone in trouble!"

Bill shrugged. "He can't prove anything! Anyone could have sent a letter pretending to be me."

Mabel asked, "How did you send a letter, anyway?"

####

"Hey, Soos," Mabel yelled, "Can you send a letter for me?"

"Sure thing, hambone! Just stick it on the pile in the kitchen."

Mabel licked a stamp, haphazardly slapped it on the envelope to her parents, tossed it on the other mail, and ran back upstairs.

Bill crept into the kitchen, peeled the stamp off Mabel's envelope before it dried, stuck it on his tiny origami letter, and stuffed them both into the middle of the mail pile. "Sorry, kid," he muttered. "You'll just have to resend this one."

####

"I have my ways," Bill said.

"And how did you 'harass' Gideon?" Dipper asked. "What could you possibly do from in here to harass him?"

####

Bill sat on the sofa in the floor room with Mabel's boombox radio on the floor, a cassette tape player/recorder he'd salvaged from the museum held up to the speaker with his thumb hovering over the record button, his other hand hovering over the key with the thunder sound effect on Soos's keyboard, an air horn between his knees, and a nearly-dead marker he'd fished out of Mabel's trash and revitalized with rubbing alcohol waiting next to him for drawing a magic-activated sigil. He glared at the boombox as the local radio station played an advertisement for air conditioning installation. "Come on," he muttered at the boombox. "Play the stupid car commercial."

The next ad started. "Bargain alert, bargain alert! I've got more used cars than I know what to do with! Hi, I'm Scout—"

"Yes," Bill hissed. He hit the record button, squeezed the air horn between his knees, held the tape recorder up to the boombox until the end of the commercial, kicked the boombox's power button, quickly held the tape recorder up to the piano, and triumphantly hit the key that produced the sound of a flushing toilet.

"NO!" He kicked the electric piano's leg, flung the tape recorder to the other end of the sofa, and flopped face down on the cushions. After permitting himself a moment of grief at the injustice of it all, he dragged over the tape recorder, stopped it, rewound it back to the start, hit the lightning key several times to make sure he had it, and then set up again to wait for the next time the car commercial played.

####

"Hey Wendy, could you get this door for me?"

Wendy gave Bill a puzzled look. "That's the wrong hallway. Rainbow Club's down that one." She pointed at the door across the room.

"I know, I'm just looking for the restroom! I need to dooo... girl hygiene things?"

Wendy looked at the tape player-shaped lump under Bill's shirt, looked at his face, and raised her brow.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna prank Lil Gideon."

Wendy opened the door, leaned through, and opened a second door to a coat closet. "Good luck. We're all counting on you."

Bill saluted her, and rummaged through the leather biker jackets in search of Gideon's little backpack.

####

"You've got no idea what kind of dark powers I still have at my disposal," Bill boasted, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head.

Dipper turned to Mabel. "Yeah, he's got nothing. He probably bribed a tourist to call Gideon's house or something."

Bill scowled, but didn't dignify Dipper with a response. "Anyway, the game's over now that Gideon knows where I am. I won't do it again."

Dipper scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Why should we trust you?"

"Because," Bill said calmly, "if I do it again, you'll have to tell your uncles, and I'll be in serious trouble. So I won't... and therefore, you won't. Right?"

Dipper frowned, but looked at Mabel. Mabel was considering Bill with her hands on her hips. She prompted, "Aaand...?"

It took Bill a moment to figure out what she was aiming for. "And I've realized I was mean and I'm very remorseful for my hurtful actions."

Mabel pointed at him. "That's what I wanna hear!" She looked at Dipper. "I think we can let him off with a warning."

Dipper shook his head in resignation.

Mabel said, "But you're not stopping there, Bill."

"How's that?"

"Come on, man, think!" She poked her finger against her temple. "You know the answer! We just watched this episode yesterday!"

"Episode?" Dipper asked.

"I've been using Color Critters to teach him social skills."

Bill said, "I have social skills, all you're doing is showing me what'll be on the test."

"That's how learning works, dummy! I wanna hear you regurgitate that textbook answer!"

Bill opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and pantomimed sticking his finger down his throat and gagging; but then he said, with a blatantly artificial chipper tone, "'If we hurt our friends, we should try to find a way to make it up to them and make sure it can't happen again.'" 

"That's right! 98 points! I'm taking two off for attitude."

"So how do you expect me to make it up to him? I can't exactly un-send him a letter. Unless you're gonna loan me that time tape—"

"Stop asking for the time tape," Dipper said, "it'll never happen."

Bill shrugged. "Then what do you suggest."

"Figure it out yourself," Mabel said. "You're the one who's gotta make it up to Gideon, not us."

Bill rolled his eye. "Is this part of the terms to buy your silence?"

"Yeah, it is."

"All right, fine." Bill sighed and stood up. "Give me a bit to brainstorm. I'll be upstairs." He meandered out of the room.

Mabel called after him, "You better not think you're wiggling out of this!"

"Relax! I won't disappoint you, Shooting Star. Promise."

Once he was out of earshot, Dipper turned to Mabel. "How do you expect him to make it up to Gideon?"

"He should say 'sorry.'"

Dipper nodded. Okay, sure, that sounded reasonable. "How long do you think it'll take for him to think of apologizing?"

"I'd give it a couple of hours."

####

(If you recognize the dealership being parodied, we now share a warrior's bond. Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, I've been looking forward to introducing Gideon for a long time! As always, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts and comments on the chapter!)

[cattologofpurring]

Attention! The author of the post has a burning ass and he came to complain.

This concerns the canonical personality of Error Sans. If the character himself said: “I am the destroyer of worlds,” then all the people who have not read the comic begin to make him a Mary Sue!

Fanon Error:

A character with unstable HP. That’s why he is portrayed as immortal, super strong. He is cold to everyone, he truly hates everyone and everything.

Canon Error:

It has an unstable but generally 1 HP. He is stronger than classic Sans only because of the strings! Without them, he is an ordinary Sans, who also has vision problems. The threads only work because of the unexpected. But you can dodge them. Yes, he is strong, but he is just a child who wants to destroy other people's Lego houses.

At the same time, it remains a cute bun with chocolate inside. He knows how to be embarrassed, he does not consider himself crazy. His outlook on life rewrote his last thoughts into anti-voids. He doesn't destroy AU for the sake of balance, he just wants to leave one universe. He enjoys hanging out with Blueberry, but he can't admit it to himself. He is a tsundere towards Underfell. He's not an emotionless monster. He is a weak child with big ambitions. Just why do people use a completely different image of Error...? Canonical Error is more interesting and more elaborate.

With all this, people put him on par with Nightmare and Dream. But no! He won't be able to do anything. Error's strings are twisted blue magic. Neither Dream nor Nightmare are affected by magic. He can destroy Dream's body, but it will recover. He will not be able to break either negative or positive apples. He is an ordinary mortal, albeit with a broken code. The energy of the apples will simply destroy his hand. Best case scenario. I think even Killer, if he is ready for strings, will simply destroy Error in phase 4. Error does not have a stronger reaction. His attacks are no faster. He may not even want to destroy you if you are interesting to him.

I'm not saying that Error is Weak. He may be strong, but he's not super strong. This is his charm. The canonical Error is one of the best characters in Fandom. It’s a pity that almost everyone forgot about him and began to turn him into who knows what.

Phew, thanks for reading! If you have any thoughts on this matter, write in the comments.

@loverofpiggies

@jokublog

@rahafwabas

[p0orbaby]

Hands Off

summary: Alessia doesn’t like people touching what’s hers

warnings: some jealousy, some possessiveness, a little suggestive

a/n: am I in my Lessi era?

word count: 772

-

“Stop staring”

“I’m not”

She was. She was staring so hard she was certain she was burning holes in the back of Stanways head.

“Less, they’ve been partnered for warm ups, not being asked to confess their undying love for each other”

Alessia let out an annoyed sigh, her blue eyes finally breaking away from the scene on the field. “I know,” she admitted, her frustration apparent in her voice. “But it still bothers me. Look Tooney, look at the way she’s touching her”

Ella followed the blonde's line of sight across the grass, finding you on the ground with Georgia leaning over you, helping you stretch out a tight hamstring.

“Come on, Less, you’re getting riled over assisted stretches now? That’s a whole new level of possessiveness, even for you” she teased.

Alessia sighed, her jealousy palpable. “I mean, what if Georgia’s hammies get all the attention, and I’m just left here watching my girlfriend feel up another woman’s legs?”

Ella couldn’t help but grin mischievously as she continued to tease Alessia. “Well, if you’re that worried, why don’t you go over there and give her a hand? Show Georgia how it’s really done”

Alessia’s eyebrows shot up, a mixture of surprise and intrigue in her eyes. “You think I should?”

“Why not, she’s your girl. Who’s saying you can’t go and toss her around a little”

Alessia smirked at her friend's suggestion. "You know what, Tooney? I think I just might do that”

With newfound determination, Alessia picked herself up and strode confidently toward the two of you, a mischievous glint in her eye as she approached. Georgia and you looked up in surprise as she joined in on the stretching session.

"Mind if I give it a try?" Alessia asked, her tone playfully challenging.

Georgia chuckled, and you gave Alessia an encouraging nod. "Sure, go for it”

“Feel good, baby?” She asked as she wrapped her hands around your ankle and pushed.

“Yeah, the cold’s just keeping me tight is all”

“You wanna try one standing? Get you off the ground?” Alessia proposes, holding her hand out for you to grab after gently lowering your leg.

You considered Alessia's suggestion, then took her hand, allowing her to help you up. "Sure, if that doesn’t work I’ll go back inside and use the EMS for a bit”

As you stood up, Alessia moved in closer, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. "Bend over for me then," she purred, her lips brushing against your ear.

You were lucky your cheeks were already bitten with cold, otherwise the whole squad would’ve seen you turn crimson.

A playful shiver ran down your spine as Alessia’s warm breath caressed your skin. You did as she instructed, bending forward slightly. Her arms held your waist securely as she began to guide you through the stretch, her touch gentle yet firm, and entirely void of innocence.

Long gone was Georgia out of your peripheral. Though you found it difficult to feel bad when your girlfriend's fingers were digging posessively into your hips.

It was the loud screech of Rachel and Millie behind you that had you pulling yourself upright. Your feet moving you away from where Alessia stood with a devious grin on her face.

“Looks like the peanut gallery is getting restless,” Alessia chuckled, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Rachel and Millie were practically howling with laughter, thoroughly enjoying the little show they had inadvertently stumbled upon. Ella was laughing as well, giving Alessia a playful wink. And Georgia had uncomfortably moved away towards the other girls putting on their bibs for passing drills.

“Keep that up Less and we might have to start putting age restrictions on tickets” Daly bellowed as she stirred towards the two of you, your own bibs in hand.

It was you this time that squealed, a reaction to a hand slapping your behind as you moved forwards to take what your teammate was holding out for you.

“Less” you warned, eyes darting around to see if anyone else had a front row seat to Alessia's antics.

“What? Just making sure you’re staying limber, babe”

“Girls” another voice shouted across the training ground. “Let’s get moving, the quicker we start the quicker we can get out of the cold”

Alessia leaned in close to you, her lips brushing against your temple as she whispered, “suppose we’ve got to listen to the boss. But we’ll continue this later, don’t you worry”

With a knowing smile of your own, you turned and looked your girlfriend right in the eye and shouted, “Stanway, buddy up with me for drills yeah?”

[lieslab]

I am the face of love's rage

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han Jisung X gn reader

Summary: After snapping at your boyfriend, it feels like the world is spiraling out of control

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1.6K

Trigger warning: Grief, anger, child neglect and implied child abuse, domestic abuse, a moment of self-harm, depression, and self-hatred.

_ _ _

It’s just not fair. It’s not fair that you weren’t asked to be born. It’s not fair that you didn’t get to play a role in this. You were forced from the womb against your will; procreated by two people who were in over their heads. You were shoved into this brutal world with nothing. No hope, no love, no faith, nothing. 

Some people have consequences for their actions, but not your parents. Life went on and you grew. You grew up full of envy when it came to your friends. How much you wished you had their parents instead of your own. 

Family movie night seemed like heaven on earth. Being tucked in between your best friend and her mother. Fizzy soda poured and pepperoni pizza shined with grease. It stuck to elementary fingers and you accidentally got it in your hair. 

As you washed it out in the unfamiliar bathroom of your best friend’s house, you found love in unexpected places. The fuzzy oversized bright blue bath towel. The ones back at your house hadn’t been replaced since the early 2000’s. 

It was the way her mother tucked her in and included you. Pressing warm lips in a foreign way against your forehead. She insisted that she loved you, but you didn't know her long. How strange it was for love to float up unexpectedly. 

It came in high school sporting events when the stands sat abandoned. Not really, they were full of cheering parents, but none of them were yours. They were always too busy with work or maybe they were at home swinging verbal assaults at one another. 

Even when you graduated, you scanned the crowd hoping that by some miracle, they’d finally show up, but they didn’t. The cheers from the crowd and shrieks from your friends fell upon deaf ears. How wonderful it was to be created and getting nothing in return. 

Maybe parents don’t owe you anything besides a roof over your head. The food on your plate. Clothes that will keep you warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Maybe that’s all they’re meant for. 

At least, that’s what they think. Sometimes they never asked for you. You were a mistake and they didn’t think it through. Five minutes of fun suddenly became a future full of responsibilities and we’re all only human in the end, so some of us choose to run. 

You can outrun your past mistakes, but somewhere along the way, they will knot together and tangle. They will leave you suffocated and struggling to breathe. No matter where you go, karma has a funny way of catching up. 

Even if that means waiting to show its face until it snatches your soul from your body. Sometimes the only sense of justice we have in life is that which becomes buried beneath six feet of dirt. It’s not enough to stitch the wound, but enough to temporarily numb the hurt. 

You can raise a child in a plethora of ways. From drilling the growing brain full of political ideology to believing in a damning God. Fairytales and happy endings or demons that will wreck havoc across barren plains. A child can be full of whatever you want them to be. 

Children are a lot like flowers. When given the nutrients and water, when the love is piled high, when mistakes are teaching points instead of crucifixion, you can turn the world into a better place. A kid can go so far, but if you choose the opposite, how does a kid survive as an adult? 

Sometimes self-love isn’t enough. Those positive daily affirmations seem silly when you hate who’s staring back at you in the mirror. There will always be a dark void inside that doubts the love we’re granted. If our parents didn’t love us, then who would? 

It takes a village to raise a kid, but sometimes villages become abandoned. They starve to death, they take off for a better life, they become the people they swore they hated. Things happen and kids become abandoned. 

Physically, emotionally, verbally. A man-made damnation that has much more in common with a rabies filled wolf than anything. Snarling and growling; snapping and charging at anyone who gets too close.

You’re just a wild dog. Please forgive them, they don’t know why they bite. They don’t know why they isolate and self-destruct. They blow a fuse, intertwine themselves with self-pity and hatred, and then fall victim to the vicious cycle again. 

And then it repeats and it repeats and it repeats. 

Friendships shatter like glass that glistens in the flames of fire. Rage builds and words shoot to kill. A ballerina forced to dance on tip-toes while foot skin shreds apart and blood soaks the tips of pointe shoes. 

Sometimes you meet someone who feels soft enough to tame that wild beast. Han Jisung was full of flaws, everyone is. Insecurities sat between the heart and chest cavity, but he gave you a chance. He gave you a chance and you ruined it. 

Hands slammed into your skull as if that’d fix it. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Your head throbbed and a headache formed, but you couldn’t stop. You deserved the punishment, at least, that’s what you thought. 

Some people aren’t born with the art of self-regulation. Some don’t know how to stop until it’s too late. You were angry and upset and a fuse was blown. You blew up, skyrocketed, and you didn’t stop the shrapnel of sharp words that flew from your mouth. 

They echoed in your head over and over again. You screamed until your voice gave out and you choked on your own frustration. You begged him to go away, chucked a book at his head in the process. 

Tears flooded his eyes, but he refused to budge. It killed you, you hated that look. With a quivering bottom lip, he spoke the soft words that wouldn’t leave your head. 

“I’m not going to leave you because I love you. So throw what you must. Scream at me until your lungs deflate, damn me to hell, I don’t care. I will love you until I’m old and gray. I will love you until the stars burn out and even then, I’ll find a way.” 

A gentle softness against the shrieks in your head. A hand wiped away your tears, after he took the risk and shuffled towards you. You shoved it away and slammed the bedroom door in his face. 

It was something so childish, so stupid, something that your parents used to do to you. You remembered what it was like when that gust of sudden wind hit you. It was a reminder that love was meant to be earned, not freely given. 

You didn’t deserve his love, his support, his softness. You didn’t deserve Han Jisung and you knew that, but why the fuck did he not know that? He was a thorn in your side and you hated him. 

You hated him because you loved him. You knew you were awful. You couldn’t control your emotions. You were the rain of an incoming tornado. Too hot, too humid, cold rain, and a chance of sudden hail. 

 A kid without guidance. One that had grown up and found themselves tangled in their mother’s misses. Your father’s regrets were imprinted in your skull and no matter how hard you tried to get through bone to rip out the stitches, they were always there. You could grit your teeth and scream, but you were always going to be a product of your parents. 

When you grow up without everything, it’s hard to figure it out. Self-love can be conflicting. Positivity feels impossible. The past creeps around you like a cobra and strikes when you least expect it. 

A victim. 

A survivor. 

A monster. 

An abuser. 

The words spun around in a cyclone and became tangled. Did you blame your parents for this mess or would you blame yourself? You could have been better, they should have made you better, but you were grown. 

Tears stung your eyes and everything swelled. It compacted into a lump in the back of your throat. It sat there and wouldn’t move. No matter how many times you tried to swallow, it wouldn’t go away. 

So you collapsed against the side of the bedroom door, just like Han knew you would. He was pressed against it from the other side. He listened to you silently as you spun out of control. Tears slipped down his cheeks, but he didn’t intervene. 

Your ragged breaths caused him to shut his eyes. He worried about you far more than you’d ever know. He cared too much and he’d never stop. He meant what he told you, he meant it with every fiber of his being. 

Snot strung from your nose and slipped down your upper lip. It tasted like defeat and failure. You squeezed your eyes shut and a whimper slipped out. 

Han couldn’t reach you through the door. As much as he wanted to grab you and smother you with love, you wouldn’t allow it. You had to take time to calm down. You had to figure yourself out. 

In the meantime, he’d be here singing softly. One of his songs that he wrote years ago. A sweet voice murmuring a symphony while your entire being crumbled behind the door. A lullaby to soothe your tired and weary soul. 

If only years ago, it would have been coming from the larynx of your mother instead.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[offtorivendell]

What if the eight-pointed star is a symbol of so much more than the Starborn; on Wyrd, Chaos, the Cauldron and the Archeron sisters...

Disclaimer: this post is just a theory and makes no claims of being canon. These thoughts are definitely not unique at this point in time - I'll link to existing posts where relevant - but I had both a moment and the motivation to get my thoughts down, so here we are lol. Also, I am aware that the bigger stars in the gif above have more than eight points but as it's very pretty, has crescent moons and little motifs with three tear drops each... it stays. A massive thank you, as usual, to @wingedblooms for always being up for some theorising. 💜

Spoilers: the entire Maasverse is fair game, be careful if you're not up to date.

The eight-pointed star is a symbol that exists across the entire Maasverse, in Erilea, Prythian, Midgard.

Erilea:

The High Priestess walked onto the stone platform and raised her hands above her head. The folds of her midnight-blue gossamer robe fell around her, and her white hair was long and unbound. An eight-pointed star was tattooed upon her brow in a shade of blue that matched her gown, its sharp lines extending to her hairline. “Welcome all, and may the blessings of the Goddess and all her gods be upon you.” Her voice echoed across the chamber to reach even those in the back. - TOG, chapter 37

Prythian:

There, dead in the center of the Illyrian tattoo snaking down his spine, a new tattoo had appeared. An eight-pointed star, whose compass points radiated in sharp lines across and up the groove of his back, twining with the Illyrian markings long inked there. The eastern and western points of the star shot right onto his wings, black blending into black. A matching one, he knew, would be on Nesta’s spine. - ACOSF, chapter 12

Midgard:

Ruhn held out his phone, the picture of the illuminated manuscript glaringly bright in the thick shadows. The illustration of the carved horn lifted to the lips of a helmeted Fae male was as pristine as it had been when inked millennia ago. Above the figure gleamed an eight-pointed star, the emblem of the Starborn. - HOEAB, chapter 21

“You first.” “Not a chance. I want to hear how you hid the fact that you’ve got a star inside you.” He looked down at her chest then, as if he’d glimpse it shimmering beneath her skin. But when his eyebrows flicked upward, Bryce followed his line of sight. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “that’s new.” Indeed, just visible down the V-neck of her T-shirt, a white splotch—an eight-pointed star—now scarred the place between her breasts. - HOEAB, chapter 95

Bryce has told us that she thinks it's the symbol of the Starborn, but I think it could go much deeper - all the way down to Wyrd/Urd.

She found nothing but open curiosity on Nesta’s face. Nesta said, “The scar your light comes from … it’s shaped like an eight-pointed star. Why?” Bryce peered at where the light was muffled by her T-shirt. “It’s the symbol of the Starborn, I think.” “And the magic marked you in this way?” “Yes. When I … revealed who I was, what I am, to the world, I drew the star out of my chest. It left that scar in its wake.” She glanced to Azriel. “Like a burn.” - HOFAS, chapter 12

As @wingedblooms said in her amazing meta earlier this year, she, @silverlinedeyes and I all think that Urd - who we now know is Wyrd - could be Chaos.

In addition to being significant to the Starborn fae within the Maasverse, the eight-pointed star is also known as a compass rose - or rose of the wind - as @wingedblooms has previously discussed. So isn't it suss that 'The Elain' ship (as pictured below, in the ACOTAR colouring book - far right) has what could be an eight pointed star on its sail? One with empty space - as in void of anything - on either side?

In addition to her thoughts about the compass rose, @wingedblooms has previously discussed how SJM's use of the eight-pointed star could also be inspired by the star of Ishtar. Wingedblooms made great points as usual - so I won't rehash them - BUT I have wanted to add for ages that there is also an eight-pointed star called "the Chaos star." 👀

Is the eight-pointed star a symbol of Chaos?

Source.

Aidas told us in HOEAB that it was the Void who sired the Princes of Hel, and Chaos was their dam. While the Chaos star as a symbol of Chaos began its life in a completely separate work of fiction, it has - apparently - been adopted by other authors and fandoms, so there's always the possibility that SJM might be one of those who has done/will do that.

I think it's interesting that after Bryce and co found Helena's cave under Avallen and dream-travelled to Hel, they wound up in the Temple of Chaos, by boat.

“The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again. - HOFAS, chapter 59

Each of the Archeron sisters had a ship named for her (as above). Word and Wyrd are homophones of each other, though I may be clowning with the latter point. Ramiel means "thunder of god" - we'll come back to that later - but Apollion's words "rumbled like thunder"... was SJM linking Wyrd and thunder, or Ramiel, here? Will the Archeron sisters travel by boat - sail the Void - to meet, or free, Chaos?

Pushing aside every raging thought and question for the moment, Hunt kept one eye on the exit behind them as they traded the pebbled shore for the smooth temple steps. As they walked up those steps and entered a space that was a near-mirror to temples back home—indeed, its layout was identical to the last temple Hunt had stood in: Urd’s Temple. - HOFAS, chapter 59

But he tried to at least look like it—back straight, shoulders squared—as he and Hypaxia stood before the Under-King in a gray-stoned temple to Urd. The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin … they were like tattoos. - HOFAS, chapter 81

“And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” - HOFAS, chapter 81

That "unusual depiction" of Urd in the Bone Quarter sounds eerily similar to the statues in the corridor leading to the library under the House of Wind, as well as the statue of the primal goddess that Nesta found in the same house - the one by which she placed Elain's carved wooden rose.

It's almost like a mix of the two.

“Because the books were full of magic, and things they wanted to keep humans from knowing.” Rhys slid his hands into his pockets, leading me down a corridor lit only by bowls of faelight upraised in the hands of beautiful female statues, their forms High Fae and faerie alike. “The scholars and librarians refused to keep slaves of their own—some for personal reasons, but mainly because they didn’t want them accessing the books and archives.” - ACOWAR, chapter 20

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. - ACOSF, chapter 56

The Cauldron... the court of thorns and roses?

We now know that Urd is none other than Wyrd, from Erilea - a cauldron of life that is "brimming with the language of creation" (which fits with my theory that Elain might Sing Wyrd, as the language of the universe, through the murky void to See as a parallel to the priestesses in Prythian requiring darkness to commune with the Cauldron), and a force that governs worlds. One with many forms - "high fae and faerie alike"?

Could Chaos actually be Wyrd, given the similarities Hunt noted between the temples of Urd and Chaos?

Chaos the Dam?

The Mother?

But why the notable lack of tattoos - Wyrdmarks? - in the statues at the House of Wind's temple to the Mother, or on the Cauldron itself?

The Cauldron was absence and presence. Darkness and … whatever the darkness had come from. But not life. Not joy or light or hope. It was perhaps the size of a bathtub, forged of dark iron, its three legs—those three legs the king had ransacked those temples to find—crafted like creeping branches covered in thorns. I had never seen something so hideous—and alluring. Mor’s face had drained of color. “Hurry,” she said to me. “We’ve got a few minutes.” - ACOMAF, chapter 62

Could that be the influence of the Daglan/Asteri when they warped the Cauldron so long ago? Wyrd, and Her marks, were removed in the process?

“Unless … ” The boy bounced each finger off his thumb, his hand like some pale, twitchy insect. “Long ago, before the High Fae, before man, there was a Cauldron … They say all the magic was contained inside it, that the world was born in it. But it fell into the wrong hands. And great and horrible things were done with it. Things were forged with it. Such wicked things that the Cauldron was eventually stolen back at great cost. It could not be destroyed, for it had Made all things, and if it were broken, then life would cease to be. So it was hidden. And forgotten. Only with that Cauldron could something that is dead be reforged like that.” - ACOMAF, chapter 18

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. Not a useful weapon, then. Bryce braced herself as Silene continued. The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. - HOFAS, chapter 19

And isn't it interesting that Papa Archeron carved the aforementioned rose for Elain - out of a dark, heavy wood that a few of us have wondered was ironwood (just like the bed on which each of the Archeron sisters was born) - while the legs of the Mother's iron Cauldron were covered in thorns?

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.” - ACOSF, chapter 55

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. - ACOSF, chapter 56

In yet another of her brilliant posts, @wingedblooms theorised that the Cauldron might represent the flower of life; roses* are obviously a flower (shh), so the imagery of the Cauldron being an iron rose on a thorny pedestal is, quite possibly, significant. One of the definitions of the word "court" is "a sovereign's residence." Has the series title "A Court of Thorns and Roses" been referring to the Cauldron all along?!

* Posts involving roses and rose imagery pertaining to Elain are here, here, here and here.

The Ouroboros and Ramiel's black monolith - the "seat" of Wyrd/Chaos?

But let's get back on topic. I have theorised in the past that the Dusk Court - which we now know are the Starborn Fae - may have had four items, or four treasures, similar to the Tuatha de Danann of Irish mythology (my first Dusk Court post leaned heavily into that association).

I suggested that they may have been paired as:

Dagda's Cauldron/The Undry - the Veritas

Spear of Destiny/Spear of Lugh - Narben

Sword of Light/Claiomh Solais - Gwydion

The Stone of Kings/Lia Fail - the Ouroboros

Fragarach - Truth-Teller (as a bonus)

@merymoonbeam has also posted about her own take on the four treasures of the Tuatha de Danann; we agree about the Spear of Lugh and the sword of light, but diverged with Dagda's Cauldron - she suggested it may have been the Cauldron, and I agree that makes sense as well - and the Lia Fail, which she theorised was the stone on top of Ramiel (again, a solid choice that makes sense). Now, I know that the Ouroboros might seem like an odd choice as an in-universe stone of kings, but if you read my four treasures post I still think it fits... but it's not a stone. And Mery's thoughts about the Lia Fail fit, too. Both options made sense to me.

Which brings me back to HOFAS.

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. Not a useful weapon, then. Bryce braced herself as Silene continued. The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. - HOFAS, chapter 19

As others have suggested already, this sounds like the same black stone monolith that Cassian flew by in ACOFAS.

The conifer forests and ravines that dotted the landscape flowing to Ramiel’s foot gleamed under fresh snow. Empty and clean. No sign of the bloodshed that would occur come the start of spring. The mountain neared, mighty and endless, so wide that he might as well have been a mayfly in the wind. Cassian soared toward Ramiel’s southern face, rising high enough to catch a glimpse of the shining black stone jutting from its top. Who had put that stone atop the peak, he didn’t know, either. Legend said it had existed before the Night Court formed, before the Illyrians migrated from the Myrmidons, before humans had even walked the earth. Even with the fresh snow crusting Ramiel, none had touched the pillar of stone. A thrill, icy and yet not unwelcome, flooded his veins. It was rare for anyone in the Blood Rite to make it to the monolith. - ACOFAS, chapter 3

* A quick aside: conifer forests and ravines surround Ramiel; who smells like night-chilled mist and cedar, and may be associated with/related to Thanatos, the prince of the Ravine? Azriel!

In @wingedblooms brilliant post about Ramiel as the heart of the Night Court, she wondered if the black monolith and Cauldron together may have been a complete depiction of Wyrd, and then something clicked (and now I'm finally getting to the point lol, sorry for the wait); what if the black stone and the Ouroboros were combined as the Lia Fail/Stone of Kings? Or Wyrd/Chaos (as the Queen)? If the Cauldron is the "court" (residence) of Wyrd, and it once "sat" at the base of the black stone Monolith as @wingedblooms suggested, it checks out.

And there, against the far wall of the chamber, snow crusting its surface, its bronze casing … The Ouroboros. It was a massive, round disc—as tall as I was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail. Ending and beginning. From across the room, with the snow … I could not see it. What lay within. I forced myself to take a step forward. Another. The mirror itself was black as night—yet … wholly clear. [...] Up close, the surface of the Ouroboros was like a gray, calm sea. Undisturbed. Sleeping. - ACOWAR, chapter 68

So now we have a black monolith as a (hypothetical) statue of Wyrd, with the Ouroboros being held high above Her head... sound familiar?

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. - ACOSF, chapter 56

But wait, there's (possibly) more...

Despite the plush furniture, the room definitely belonged to a witch: a small crystal altar to Cthona adorned the eastern wall, covered in various tools of worship; a large obsidian scrying mirror hung above it; and the fireplace built into the southern wall had various iron arms, presumably to hold cauldrons during spells. A royal suite, yes, but a workroom as well. - HOSAB, chapter 56

Ithan crossed his arms. On the desk itself sat a statuette of Cthona, carved from black stone. In one arm the goddess cradled an infant to her bare breast. In the other, she extended an orb—Midgard—out into the room. Cthona, birther of worlds. He touched it idly, gathering his courage. - HOFAS, chapter 13

Ithan was carefully setting down a figurine of Cthona giving birth on all fours—the planet Midgard crowning between her legs—when Jesiba’s phone rang. The shrill sound shattered the silence, but Ithan’s sunball reflexes kept him from dropping the fragile marble. - HOFAS, chapter 44

Could the Ouroboros represent the moon associated with the priestesses of the Mother? I mean it's big and round, and I'm a simple person haha. Was there ever a temple to Wyrd/Chaos on - or underneath - Ramiel? Does the black stone monolith represent the goddess/Wyrd, the Ouroboros the moon and the Cauldron the world to which she's giving birth? If black stone/obsidian attracts the princes of Hel, is that because obsidian is a stand in for Void and they are themselves a mixture of Void and Chaos? Is black stone used to depict Wyrd/Chaos because it acknowledges that She is attracted* to the Void? And the Ouroboros, which I have previously thought could be a portal (and hey, it's taller than Feyre, so tall enough), and @wingedblooms theorised it may be a mirror of witch glass... it seems intentional.

* This imagery reminds me of the Embrace of Solas and Cthona.

Sailing the Void

In my post about The Weaver's Song, I theorised that it might be a prophecy suggesting that the three Archeron sisters may sing, or "sail" (for lack of a better term haha) the bat brothers through the Void, either figuratively or (I hope!) literally. Either to Hel or to some other place - I would scream if it's Erilea, as @psychologynerd has theorised for Elain - but ultimately, wherever they go, I think it will be with the goal of finding and freeing Wyrd from whatever (hypothetically) binds Her, thus purifying Her and the Cauldron from the corruption of the Daglan/Asteri.

Which, speaking of, could the Asteri/Daglan have bound Wyrd with wyrdstone as like calls to like? Or did they use a crystal prism - like the one Bryce found in the Autumn King's study - to split Her light into its many facets and bind - tether - each to something or one? Did they create an anti rainbow with wyrdstone to split Wyrd apart, weakening Her?

With a sharp inhale, Bryce rallied her magic. On the exhale, she sent a stream of her starlight into the prism, her power faster than ever before. Starlight hit the prism, passed through it, and— “Huh.” It wasn’t a rainbow that emerged from the other side. Not even close. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing: a gradient beam of starlight. Where the rainbow would have been full of color, this one began in shimmering white light and descended into shadow. An anti-rainbow, as it were. Light falling into darkness, droplets of starlight raining from the highest beam into the shadowy band at the bottom, devoured by the darkness below. Like the fading light of day—of dusk. What did it mean? She was pretty sure her light had been pure before, but now, with Silene’s power mixed in … there was darkness there, too. Hidden beneath. - HOFAS, chapter 39

I've previously spoken about the need for balance to be restored to the universe, and that something may be preventing light (Chaos?) from flowing freely through the Void. If this is true, and it stems from the Asteri's corrupting efforts, it would make sense that purifying their influence on the Mother and Cauldron - who we now know is Wyrd - would help to heal the land, by unchaining the magic, as Feyre hinted in ACOMAF (and @wingedblooms has discussed extensively).

I shivered, craving the moderate winter of Velaris, wondering how it could be so temperate in the far north, but … everything in Prythian was strange. Perhaps when the wall hadn’t existed, when magic had flowed freely between realms, the seasonal differences hadn’t been so vast. - ACOMAF, chapter 23

I have more thoughts on this but I'm getting off track, hopefully I'll post them soon.

I've already discussed the possible significance of 'The Elain' ship flying a sail with the compass rose, or rose of the winds - an eight-pointed star - with nothing (void) on either side. I think it's interesting that 'The Feyre' flies two crescent moons and two diamond-type symbols that represent some of the (hypothetical) wyrdmarks on Wyrd's arms as depicted on the cover of HOFAS, and that 'The Nesta' flies a sail with a dragon and two suns, possibly referring to the dragon Ariadne from HOSAB (in Greek mythology, Ariadne was heavily associated with labyrinths, ie. finding one's way) and the sun being a star with a powerful flame? I know I sound like a broken record, but will the Archeron sisters be like the light from Eärendil's - a mariner! - star contained in the phial of Galadriel, but as the three brothers' most beloved stars? Will they light their way through the Void?

Getting back to the compass rose, Cassian refers to the eight-pointed star as a map for striking with a sword, and we know that light can be wielded as a weapon, as Yrene Towers did in Erilea, to heal Chaol and execute the Valg King Erawan.

“You didn’t ask.” He unsheathed his Illyrian blade. “Enough history.” He drew four lines in the dirt, all intersecting to form an eight-pointed star. “This is your map for striking with a sword. These eight maneuvers. You’ve learned six of them. You’ll learn the other two today, and we’ll start on the combinations.” - ACOSF, chapter 44

Additionally, Nesta suggested that the eight-pointed star was stamped on her heart.

Nesta lifted the sword and executed a perfect arcing slash. Her weight shifted to her legs just as she flipped the blade, leading with the hilt, and brought up her arm against an invisible blow. Another shift and the sword swept down, a brutal slash that would have sliced an opponent in half. Each slice was perfect. Like that eight-pointed star was stamped on her very heart. - ACOSF, chapter 50

This sounds incredibly similar to Bryce carrying a star in her chest - her star tattoo was over her heart - so I would not be surprised to learn that Feyre and Elain had something similar, too. It makes sense. Each Cauldron-Made sister carrying one third of a whole star, to replace Theia's protective magic that Bryce took with her to Midgard (as she didn't return it when she did Truth-Teller, Prythian is currently unprotected). And if the Cauldron is Wyrd's vessel, as it appears to be, this makes Feyre, Elain and Nesta supremely important. Perhaps they're not the "scum" Vesperus suggested at all.

Perhaps they are the wyrdkeys to everything? At least in Prythian, if each sister holds within her one third of a whole star that Wyrd planted Herself.

[siremasterlawrence]

Paying My Dues

Hey guys last new story for a week or two I need to take a break after some strange three half weeks. Nearly had two incidents with cars, had family medical health issues and I need to focus on me. See you guys in two weeks.

The moon is full circle during super high tide all over the house as midnight appears it is shining on full display looking quiet bold and white dancing across the sky as I welcome my many guests on honor.Ten actors who are either clearly in of help from someone who is willing to go their even if they don’t appreciate them at all because well I am Master Lawrence and I am fucking super awesome no matter what you think. I am standing in front of my mansion as they all walking through the door as I slide them both to the side fully opening the door for him as I smirk and watch as Chris Evans is exiting the car happily. I spot him from a faras I smirk waving him forward in to the void of my home he soon notices the place is at odd totally empty and he panics as he can’t escape all that’s left is a letter written in ink for him to read.

Tom Hardy walks in to the home with a hot and heavy world of some sort of issues for me to play with as my appetite only grows the more I play and I lead him in to similar room as Chris. His issues grows intensely as he takes another step he is stuck in the center of the room as his life flashes by him and all he can do is fear what’s next no way he can fight it. No matter what he does, he says or thinks, and feels he stuck here with a strange letter on the table as he picks it up for a chance of a lifetime and he opens it to a shock. He grabs the knife cutting the top of it open as he yanks the letter from the envelope, inside on the piece of paper he isstun to see the words you will get freedom from all that plagues you if your give me your talent and career.

“Alan…Alan” a ethereal voice calls to him as he is recording a new video on his waked YouTube channel.

“Why are you so conflicted?”

“Who are you? Is that portal?”

“Never mind that, you have lost your way and you need help.”

“I can see when someone does not appreciate what they have.”

“I do and you are a crock shit “

“Why are you so scared then?”

“I am not scared of anyone “

“So come to the mirror”

“Fuck! Fine”

“Hey wait! Release me “

“Read this “

“What the…”

“I give you permission to take the life I have and all that comes with it “

“Hell no! I did not authorize that “

“Hahaha “

“What’s is funny?”

“You just did dummy “

“Where are am I?”

“Hey Liam!”

“How did you get here?”

“All good buddy “

“We agreed to me”

“Since when?”

“It’s not important “

“You think so?”

“I know so”

“Who are you?”

“I am you now, we agree to switch”

“Impossible “

“Look in the mirror”

“I am your life”

“No? Get out of my body”

“This fine specimen is my body “

“You will learn to love this new world like your allies “

“Bastard! I will…I will…what was I saying?“

Chris Pratt use to appeal to me as the super kind affable guy I could hang with until this bullshit with his kids and his wives because he is wolf in sheep’s clothing because he is a dick. It’s the perfect night to stay at home with his wife and kids unfortunately for him my future pet he is a total dip shit that is totally unaware that his family disappeared until 8 pm. He sighs getting up from his seat as he roams out of the living room in to the ever winding hall to his mansion but he soon is distracted with a bright light in his master bedroom as he races upstairs. What finally hits him he is alone a he stares in to a empty room from the hall and he creeps in like the little shit notices the mirror is glowing in a wake blue color he sneaks closer and a hand yanks him in.

Stephen Amell should learn to stay at home instead of wondering our of his front door in such a state early in the morning, nah just joking I woke him up with a phone call early in the morning. He screamed at me as if I care I mean really nobody is going to think twice that man loves to make scenes like when he went off in his wife in a drinking stupor on the airplane such a embarrassing man.

“Why do I feel like the house is stifling me tonight?”

“That strange call left me feeling hot”

“Seeing my wife irritated “

“She will kill me if she wakes up”

“Ah fuck it”

“Such a bitch “

“I need man time for myself “

“By my”

“Out in the…the…woods…who the fuck are you?”

“I am the guy …”

“On the phone ?”

“God! You are tense “

“You are major trouble”

“Shit! Should I be scared”

“Not! Zip it “

“I am charge now “

“I will be disappointed”

“So time for a lesson”

Tom and Colton are in a major independent project shooting in England somewhere in the background of the set the camera is all a go ready to roll and they talk unsuspecting the danger looming ahead.

“Where is everybody?”

“Anybody?”

“Say cheese “

“Fuck! I can’t see”

“Am I blind?”

“Your eyes will return momentarily “

“Bastard “

“Pussies! Do a me favor?”

“Never “

“How collaborative?”

“Not working “

“Kneel NOW!”

“You can’t…”

“Tell me”

“No way!”

“Kneel “

“Much better “

“Good bois “

Ben and Chris this is a party like no other

as they enter into a misty plane through the door into a whole new world, the doors been closed their lives are vanishing into avoid of dreams, self-destruction, self obsession and happiness into complete submission.

“Congratulations! You made one hell of a Faustian deal!”

“All of you in here will escape the lives you are dreading.”

“What do you get in return?”

“Your talent, your life and your everything “

“No takesy backseys”

The end

[spadecentral]

🍪 Bet On the Teleportation | Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade

>> event: race for the cookie cup by @theolivetree123 >> a/n: i got so excited to write this and now im scared to post it, but also this fan event is so cool yall should go check it out!!!

>> masterlist: twst >> summary: bets are stupid, but ace and deuce make one anyway >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): you are referred to as [name]

When the eight of you land inside the video game that Ace and Deuce were just competing over, you sigh. It's a nightmare already to keep Grim from eating anything, but now with the giant candies it's going to be hellish.

"What did you do, Juice?" Ace is peeved at Deuce, despite neither of them doing anything to trigger this kind of glitch.

Idia shivers momentarily, but you think it's just a cold front running down his spine and disregard it.

"There is no way you're gonna blame this on me!" Deuce responds. "If anything, you did it! Did you see how hard you were gripping the joystick?"

"No I didn't, because all I could see was my racecar ahead of yours!"

"[Name], what do you think?" Ace huffs, turning over to you for an answer.

"Nuh uh," you say as you grip tightly onto Grim's wiggling body. "You two aren't dragging me into this, I told y'all not to make that bet."

"Okay your opinion is void now," Ace rolls his eyes.

"Stop looking for pity points when you know I'm right," Deuce crosses his arms. "And I was beating you, not the other way around."

"Mhm, that's not what the pixels on that stupid screen were showing me," Ace retaliates, the sass in his voice unimaginable.

"Can you two please make up so we can get out of here," you groan.

"There's no way I'm making up with the person who got us here!" Deuce frowned.

"I am not gonna just reconcile with this dumbass!" Ace practically shouted.

"There has to be a way for the two of you to duke it out here so we can get on with it," Silver finally speaks up, over the initial stupor of teleportation.

All of the sudden, horns sound.

"All rise for our ruler, King Candy!" a guard yelled.

Finally looking anywhere other than the red- and blue-haired boys, you finally take in your surroundings and clothes fully. Racing attire? you question to yourself as a royal-looking man comes into view.

"Strange people of far-away lands!" he yells out. "I hear your need for justice and wish to hand it to you. Your need for a true winner resounds well in my heart, and I therefore grant you my honor in racing to victory! You may gather two teams—since there are so many of you—and compete in a race! Then you will know who the real winner is!"

"See, there we go," Ace says.

"There is no way..." you can hear Idia mumbling in the back.

"Alright! Let's get to it!" Deuce calls out, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

You frown, knowing the competitive nature of the both of them would probably do more hurt than good in the the long run. But who are you to stop them, they're teenage boys for Seven's sakes.

>> ace and deuce taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @strawberry-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @wisteriainslumber

@villaim | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie-archived | @divinesapph

@ze-maki-nin | @ezr4n | @l1vyatan | @savanaclaw1996 | @enigmatic-pers

@queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive | @monochromepalette | @she-wont-miss

[firelordsfirelady]

IX. Flash of Blue

Author: @firelordsfirelady

Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess? 

Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal

Word Count: 870

Destined to be Yin and Yang 

I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story.

Author’s Notes

The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16 

Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.

See Y/N’s inspiration here. 

Destined to be Yin and Yang Soundtrack (YouTube)

Zuko and I trained every day for the next week or so, but I found myself struggling to focus on fighting. Zuko had grown frustrated and told me to leave if I couldn’t focus, and that’s how I found myself one afternoon standing on the deck. I watched the endless horizon of the icy sea continue without much variation.

Something deep inside my being whispered to watch the horizon for something.

“Gets boring watching the horizon, right?” I turned to find Lieutenant Jee casually walking to stand next to me. “I don’t know why the Prince insists on this mission of finding the Avatar.” The lieutenant placed his hands on the railing as he spoke his next words bitterly. “Or why he insisted on dragging us all with him.”

“You shouldn’t speak about the Prince in such a manner.” My words were stern. “I understand you’re frustrated, but you truly have no idea how much the mission means to him.” I could feel his eyes staring at the side of my head before he let out a humorless laugh.

“I did not think you’d be the one to have a soft spot for the Prince,” Jee said and my cheeks felt hot at the accusation. 

“I don’t have--” I opened my mouth to speak as a large bright beam of light lit the sky in the distance. The beam of light continued to light up the sky as Zuko came rushing over to the side of the boat. The blue light drew my attention like a moth to a flame as I was suddenly attempting to attack a stranger on a dock in a city up north. The world is void of light as I try to defend myself, but the stranger laughs as he sends a fireball my way. I collapse as the world went black as the fireball made contact with my body.

“The only settlement in that area is a small Water Tribe village in the Southern Pole territory.” When I came to, there was a damp cloth on my forehead and whispers of conversation in the room around me. “That’s where we need to go.”

“Where you think we’ll find the Avatar?” Another voice--Iroh’s--whispered.

“Yes.”

“Because of the light?” Iroh’s final question had Zuko go quiet for a moment.

“Do you think I am imagining things?” I recognized Zuko’s voice as he sounded hurt at Iroh’s statement, and Iroh sighed heavily.

“Sometimes, the light beams we see are nothing more than celestial glimmers in the cold winter sky.” I heard Iroh shift his weight in the chair beside me. “Sometimes, caring for those who care for us is the more important option.”

“I’m not worried about her, Uncle.” Zuko’s tone was harsh, and I let out a low groan I slowly opened my eyes to let them know I was awake. Zuko was standing over the desk in my room with a map sprawled out on the surface of it. Iroh sat beside me in the chair from my desk. A bucket of water sat beside Iroh with various rags neatly folded next to the bucket. “I’m sure that was the Avatar.” 

“Take it easy, Y/N,” Iroh said as he shifted his attention to help me sit up in bed. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Good. You’re awake.” Zuko’s voice was cold to me as he turned on his heel. “We will make haste for the Southern Water Tribe.” Without waiting for Iroh’s response, Zuko added. “Y/N, when we arrive, you need to stay on the ship. I don’t need any weaknesses when go to capture the Avatar.” With that, Zuko left the room and briskly walked away. I gave Iroh an encouraging smile and ushered him away as Zuko left.

“I’ll be okay.” Iroh gave me an apologetic smile as he left the room and closed the door behind him. A shaky breath left my lungs as I laid my head against the cool wall as I had to face reality once again.

It’s a coincidence that the beam of light was the same scenario as my dream. I ran a hand through my hair as I set the damp rag in the bucket by my bed. Something in my spirit was telling me that it wasn’t a coincidence that the beam happened as it did in my dream. I let this internal argument fill my head until I felt the familiar sensation of the anchor dropping.

Sneaking behind one of the crates on deck, I watched from a distance as the crew was lined up before Zuko. The Fire Prince slowly paced back and forth as he spoke to them in an authoritative tone.

“Our mission is to find the Avatar is vital to the future of the Fire Nation.” He stalked back down the line as he continued. “We will prove ourselves worthy to see our homes and our families again, or we will die trying.” Zuko paused to look at Iroh before turning to put on his Fire Nation helmet. The crew all followed suit and marched off the ship behind Zuko. I felt a pang in my heart at Zuko’s speech, but watched as they all marched off the ship.

Tag List @chevysstuffs @puttyly @ginger24880 @night-fall-moon @junieshohoho @0kauy @coolgirl458 @hypnoticbeing @angelruinz @preeyansha @playboygeniusphilanthropist @ssonniiu  @chi-ara @hagridshaircare @dearstell @kyo-kyo1

[will80sbyers]

Do you still have the list of movies that inspired ST4? I had a picture of it but I lost it and I haven't been able to find it since. Please and thank you in advance.

Yep!

Long post warning lol

300

2001: A Space Odyssey

47 Meters Down: Uncaged

12 Monkeys

28 Days Later

13th Warrior

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

Altered States

Amelie

American Sniper

Analyze This

Annihilation

Aristocats

Armageddon

Assassins Creed

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Arrival

Almost Famous

Batman Begins

Batman V. Superman

Basket Case

Battle at Big Rock

Beauty and the Beast

Beetlejuice

Behind Enemy Lines

Beverly Hills Cop

Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey

Billy Madison

Black Cauldron

Black Swan

Boondock Saints

Borat

Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Burn After Reading

Broken Arrow

Blade Runner

C.H.U.D

Con Air

Cast Away

Congo

Constantine

Children of Men

Cabin in the Woods

Crank

Casablanca

Carrie

Crimson Tide

Clueless

Dukes of Hazzard

Don’t Breathe

Death to Smoochy

Doom

Dark Knight

Dogma

Deep Blue Sea

Dreamcatcher

Drop Dead Fred

Die Hard

Die Hard 2

Die Hard 3

Don’s Plum

Dances with Wolves

Dumb and Dumber

Edward Scissorhands

Enter the Void

Ex Machina

Event Horizon

Emma (2020)

Forrest Gump

Fargo

Fisher King

Full Metal Jacket

Ferris Bueller

Fallen

Fugitive

Ghost

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Ghostbusters

Good Fellas

Girl Interrupted

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

Get Out

Good Will Hunting

Hackers

High Fidelity

Hellraiser 1

Hellraiser 2

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Hidden

High School Musical

Hurt Locker

Heat

Hunger Games

Highlander

Hell or High Water

Home Alone

I am Legend

It’s a Wonderful Life

In Cold Blood

Inception

I am a Fugitive from Chain Gang

Inside Out

Island of Doctor Moreau

It Follows

Interview with a Vampire

Inner Space

Into the Spiderverse

Independence Day

Jupiter Ascending

John Carter of Mars

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

James Bond (All Movies)

Julie

Karate Kid

Knives Out

Kingsmen

Little Miss Sunshine

Labyrinth

Long Kiss Goodnight

Lost Boys

Leon: The Professional

Let the Right One In

Little Women (1994)

Mad Max: Fury Road

Magnolia

Men in Black

Mimic

Matrix

Misery

My Cousin Vinny

Mystic River

Minority Report

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Neverending Story

Never Been Kissed

No Country for Old Men

Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

North by Northwest

Open Water

Orange County

Oceans 8

Oceans 11

Oceans 12

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Ordinary People

Paddington 2

Platoon

Pulp Fiction

Papillon

Pan’s Labyrinth

Pineapple Express

Peter Pan

Princess Bride

Paradise Lost

Primal Fear

Prisoners

Peter Jackson’s King Kong

Reservoir Dogs

Ravenous

Rushmore

Road Warrior

Rogue One

Reality Bites

Raider of the Lost Ark

Red Dragon

Robocop

Shooter

Sky High

Swingers

Sword in the Stone

Step Up 2

Spy Kids

Saving Private Ryan

Shape of Water

Swept Away

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

Superbad

Society

Swordfish

Stoker

Splice

Silence of the Lambs

Source Code

Sicario

Se7en

Starship Troopers

Scrooged

Splash

Silver Bullet

Speed

The Visit

The Italian Job

The Mask of Zorro

True Lies

The Blair Witch Project

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Tangled

The Craft

The Guest

The Devil’s Advocate

The Graduate

The Prestige

The Rock

Titanic

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Fly

Tombstone

The Mummy

The Guardian

The Goofy Movie

The Peanut Butter Solution

Toy Story 4

The Ring

The Crazies

The Mist

The Revenant

The Perfect Storm

The Shining

Terminator 2

The Truman Show

Temple of Doom

The Cell

To Kill a Mockingbird

Timeline

The Good Son

The Orphan

The Birdcage

The Green Mile

The Raid

The Cider House Rules

The Lighthouse

The Book of Henry

The A-Team

The Crow

The Terminal

Thor Ragnarok

Twister

The Descent

The Birds

Total Recall

The Natural

The Fifth Element

True Romance

Terminator: Dark Fate

The Hobbit Trilogy

Unforgiven

Unbreakable

Unleashed

Very Bad Things

Wayne’s World

What Women Want

War Dogs

Wedding Crashers

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Welcome to Marwen

Wet Hot American Summer

What Lies Beneath

What Dreams May Come

War Games

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Weird Science

Willow

Wizard of Oz

Wanted

Young Sherlock Holmes

You’ve Got Mail

Zodiac

Zoolander

[destinygoldenstar]

Worst ways to describe Ninjago to people

(Let me know if I should turn this into a series, or if you come up with any)

(These are all jokes)

"This is a show about how plastic makes tornadoes"

"That's Jay, the blue guy. His special power is screaming at the very top of is lungs"

"That's Kai. He's an anime protagonist. His special power is getting sidelined in everything he's ever been involved with"

"That's Cole. Best hair. No criticism" (Quote my GF)

"Society hates and torments a ten year old because he's a brat"

“See, his father is a tired old man who wants to be a better father, it’s hard when you’re an evil terrorist trying to turn the world into your personal zombie land”

"And then the child slipped on ice and fell into a snake pit, and then he was a KING"

"So there's this purple snake. He eats purple snakes. That's how you know he's a good friend"

"Also there's a pink ninja. Yeah. We don't talk about pinkie no no no no no-"

"He's always wondered who he was on the inside... turns out he's a bunch of wires"

"If he could get someone to fall in love with him, the curse would be broken. But who could ever learn to love a snake?"

"His dad didn't say NO MUSIC, he said YES MUSIC, ONLY MUSIC"

"So they have the devil himself living in their boat, and they all think he's a really good neighbor who wouldn't try to kill them while they're sleeping. Except for this one guy who is suspicious. What a hypocrite he is, am I right?"

"Do I save the entire world or do I have this one child? I'm gonna save the child, c'mere child"

"'No destiny, I AM the Green Ninja' 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-'"

"And then the emo child became god"

"So he died. Then he died. And then he died again."

"A machine told her that cheating was okay"

"To save her life, he gave her a piece of his heart. Literally"

"And then they were yeeted into space"

"The Flash is in this show"

"You know how they say the cake is a lie? Wrong. It's the noodles"

"The best way to make things right with your friend is to try to strike them with lightning"

"I must fulfill my daddy's wishes to start up the evil empire-but wait, why is this fire boy so pretty? I think I'll side with him"

"Dude was drunk on power holding a stick, don’t worry he’s fine, they just had to slap him with a jet”

"He was born a devil in a human's body. Then he became a devil. Then he became human again. Then he became a snake. Then he became a dead person. Then the devil again."

"Dead people are deadly allergic to water"

"What do you do when you don't know what to do with a character? MURDER THEM... and then bring them back as a ghost. Problem solved"

"A thousand year old genie wants to marry a teenage girl"

"You ever heard of Romeo and Juliet? Well Jay just said NOPE"

"A young boy became the father of an elderly man"

"Oh Lloyd, if only there was someone out there who loved you"

"And then his dad was brought back from hell to drag him along"

"They didn't die, they were transported to the middle of nowhere"

"A child grew up with his four dads, and then became thousands of years older than said four dads and tried to become a counselor to their rocky marriage"

"Cole fell into the void"

(Come up with your own when reblogging)

[golbrocklovely]

i need to complain about this for two seconds lol

it has gotten on my LAST NERVE that this fandom constantly expects colby to pay attention to everyone. give everyone likes, notices, whatever. and when colby doesn't follow thru, he's seen as an asshole. but sam is never expected to do that.

prime example being the merch and reposting/liking fans.

colby has CONSISTENTLY been reposting and liking fans merch posts for a couple months now. and yet, what he's doing isn't enough. there are fans that think he doesn't repost enough of a "variety" of fans, aka he doesn't post plus size fans enough and according to some fans "only reposts fans that look like shea" basically.

imma need yall to consider not using colby to build up your self esteem and do so quickly.

bc look, i'm a plus size individual. i KNOW what it's like to be ignored for my body or made fun of for how i look and just in general to seek validation in men. i get it, i truly do. what i am saying is that colby DOES pay attention to a variety of fans, but bc he isn't constantly reposting bigger bodies, yall see it as him ignoring plus size fans.

this, tied with his dating history that you all love to think you know, you've have come to the conclusion that his type is a skinny, dark haired, blue eyed girl, and anything other than that is ignored.

and i can scream this from the roof tops, until i'm blue in the face: WE DO NOT KNOW COLBY LIKE THAT SO STOP ASSUMING.

we don't know his dating his history, hook up history, nothing. we don't know what his type is. just bc you've seen him with a couple different girls (that he may not have even been dating in the first place) over the years, doesn't mean you know his type.

not to mention if he has a type that is skinny girls with dark hair and blue eyes..... WHO FUCKING CARES?????? he's not trying to fuck any fans. he's reposting who he sees he's tagged in/what the algorithm shows him. be pissed at that, not at him.

bc fun fact: you're not owed a notice. a like. a repost. just bc you bought merch. how many fans have brought merch over the years and never got seen? thousands have. millions even. you aren't owed something just bc you gave money to them. what you are owed is the physical merch and that's it.

we've been having this same conversation for years now, literally since i joined the fandom. and back then, at 23, i felt the same way. i genuinely hated the idea that colby, and sam for that matter, wouldn't find me attractive and thus wouldn't repost me or like my merch pics. but as i've gotten older, and started to LIKE MYSELF, idc if snc think i'm hot or not. i think i'm hot, i don't give two shits what two random boys from kansas think.

stop relying on colby to make you feel better about yourself. stop relying on influencers in general to fill the void inside of you. work on yourself. snc are entertainment, and that's it. they are not your boyfriends who are gonna hold your hand and tell you you're beautiful. i'm sorry, but that's reality.

or... at the very least, if you're gonna continue to shit on colby for this, do the same to sam. sam literally doesn't repost any fans and only start to this past merch drop so like........... where's the outrage for him?

right, i forgot. sam does nothing wrong, but colby does everything wrong. my bad, must have forgot :)

[neuroprincess]

Broken Rules - Larissa Weems/Female Reader

Larissa Weems/Female Reader

Summary: An unfair deal, that's all Y/N gets from Larissa and was enough until it wasn't anymore. After a few glasses of wine and sudden courage she questions the woman, this could work or ruin everything for good.

Classification: +18, Angst, Slight Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, arguing, harsh words, swearing, slight sex, injury, denial of feelings, unrequited love, jealousy, hurt/comfort

Word count: +6400

Unrevised

There are three essential rules for this deal, in black and white, very clear imposed since the first night they spent together. The third is crystal clear, not least, never spend the night, this one is understandable considering the academy and how awkward a teacher leaving the principal's living quarters so early would be. That's the excuse Y/N gives herself every time she has to sneak through the halls of Nevermore in the middle of the night. Second rule, never tell anyone. This kills her inside, in these months all she wants to do in good and bad moments is to share with someone about how she feels, not even with the blonde can she talk because it would imply the first and most important rule. No falling in love, which means they don't talk about anything but professional matters, they don't kiss unless they are having sex and that is all Y/N can get out of this deal. Sex. Stress relief. Sometimes some sexual gift, nothing personal.  

The teacher repeats the rules mentally as she serves herself with a glass of wine, standing with back to her mistress who finishes paperwork at the office desk. Well, she arrived at the appointed time, but Larissa ended up delaying some important matters and now has to finish. Y/N asked if she should leave, receiving only a negative nod. The week was more exhausting than usual, a visit from a couple of parents for an unexpected situation, some student managed to break the plumbing of the bathroom sink and a gorgon accidentally petrified his friend, all problems that earned her complex resolutions, headache and extra paperwork to fill out. 

"So, why the parents came here?" she asks, still not turning around, putting the bottle in the same place and raising the glass to lips, sipping the sweet liquid "Both Nikolas and Lucinda are great kids." 

"They really are, but none of their families support the relationship between vampires and werewolves. Nothing that you, being a normie, understand."  

"Well, I may not be an outcast, but I live with them every day and I am in this world. You are one of those who advocates harmony between normies and outcasts, I don't understand..."  

"It's not the same thing." the blonde says simply and shrugs, her tone of voice unchanged, eyes still fixed on the printed words.  

Y/N huffs and takes a generous sip of wine, feeling the burning in the throat from alcohol, sorrow and a little bit of anger. She stares at her boss, clothes perfectly clean and well ironed, the red lipstick highlighting her fleshy lips, hair styled, long fingers wandering across the surface and blue eyes standing out in the whole scene, literally a sight to take breath away and maybe the rest of the sanity the younger still possesses after swallowing the entire contents of the glass in seconds. The glass is filled again and soon is empty, this repeats until she drinks the fourth in a row, the burning no longer bothers her, the heat rises through her body, head spins for a millisecond before turning to face Larissa again. She sighs and walks at a slow pace until she is in front of the large desk, her mind once full of things to say slowly becoming blank, void, just as it always is around the tall woman. Perhaps this is the spell and reason for them to continue in this unfair deal, it's like the white witch has put a spell on the simple peasant human, who would kiss her feet in adoration. 

"What?" Weems asks raising her gaze for the first time since the other entered the room, a little annoyed by the sudden proximity "Did you drink before coming here?" the teacher just denies with a nod, continuing to stare at her with a neutral expression "So why do you look like shit? You know, I don't care, as long as you didn't show up in front of the students like that."  

The words sound normal to her, but to Y/N it's a painful feeling in the chest similar to an anvil being thrown, hurts, weighs down and she can't move staying in the same place. The neutral expression falls apart, eyes instantly getting watery and whole face burning as she fights the imminent cry, in fact she only realizes she is crying when a drop hits the document in front of her, the first of many that start to fall even though she tries to contain them. She knows she doesn't look like shit but at most blushing after drinking. There is no way she looks like shit because between the end of classes and going to the principal's office passed by her own dorm to get ready, try to look impeccable for their weekly "date", put on her new dress bought a few weeks ago on a visit to Jericho, touched up the daily makeup, brushed hair and put on her favorite perfume, the only one that didn't make Larissa complain.  

"Y/N?" the voice is low and nonchalant when she calls her, with a hint of concern that goes unnoticed.  

"I don't look like shit...I've tidied myself up, my hair is in place, I'm smelling good.... Why the hell do you hate me?" she asks finally after trying to defend herself uselessly, they are simply unimportant words when a dull expression takes over the blonde's face and then surprise at the question "You always act like I'm inferior, then say I look like shit and accuse me of getting drunk around the students, something I would never do because I love and respect them. Am I such a cheap person to you?"

"I didn't mean that..."  

"Then what did you mean?" the question is angry, totally emotional, and the voice comes out ragged, raw with genuine desire to understand the other woman.  

"Y/N, you are on dangerous ground, this is against our deal." Larissa says gently after pulling herself together from the initial shock "Don't do something you'll regret."  

"Damn, so that's what I am to you? I try to lie to myself that I am someone for you, someone you can.... Just can..." she tries to find words that get stuck in the throat and mind turns to blank mist again when she realizes that the principal is staring at her, an almost smile rising on lips, not a smile of encouragement, seems almost cruel like a hunter waiting for the hare to fall into the trap and the younger would not give her this taste or reason to smile "I am and always will be just sex for you, right?" the blonde just nods in agreement "Right." 

The teacher just nods while kneeling, which leaves the taller one momentarily confused until she finds her crawling to the middle of her legs, no longer caring about the condition of the dress, makeup drips down cheeks, eyes are distant and face is flushed, not in a positive way, now Y/N looks like shit and it's not a good feeling knowing she's the cause of it. Something presses Larissa's chest making the smile that was rising die instantly. Everything is too fast, the usually gentle fingers of the younger are quick and imprecise, desperate to lift the gray dress up to waist length. The woman lifts her hips helping, soon the lace panties are exposed, framing the path between the long pale legs. The fabric is just set aside as the head disappears under the table and fabric of the dress, the principal's hands grab a handful of the girl's hair pulling her to herself hoping to feel more pleasure, but there is nothing but a shiver and the slight sensation, she simply cannot delight in the skilled tongue circling the clit, nor touches that usually make her melt. A nagging sensation seeps into her chest and stomach churns, even as she closes the eyes trying to erase the pitiful image of the younger, unsuccessfully, the blotchy and weeping face invades her mind, it's intrusive and strangely... painful. Blue eyes open, she stares into the ceiling mirror feeling a little nauseous at the sight and a hand pulls Y/N's hair back, stopping her from continuing, also making her unbalanced falling on the floor and hitting the back of head against the wooden end of the desk. She just groans in pain, confused in a drunken state and not understanding exactly what had just happened.  

"What is it?" she asks taking a her own hand to head where it hurts, a little surprised to find the part slightly moist, but she doesn't care, everything hurts and that's the lesser of it "Isn't that what you wanted?!"  

"It was, actually it is. But not like this. Clean yourself up first, look decent."  

"So I have to look decent to fuck you? Got it." Y/N laughs humorlessly but stands up to do it, hands resting on the woman's thighs to stand without caring that she is being ignored, the blonde looks at some specific spot on the wall avoiding looking down "I'll be right back." she walks with slow steps to the bathroom attached to the office, closing the door behind her.  

"Shit!" Larissa lets out the air she didn't even realize was holding and lowers her gaze, the memory of the girl there still present, a shiver runs through her body and eyes widen as she notices contrasting crimson on the pale knees, the perfect mark of fingers stamping across skin. She barely has time to think about it as the sound of something falling in the bathroom makes her jump out of the chair "Y/N?" without an answer. 

She waits a few seconds still unanswered until walking quickly to the bathroom, opening the door without knocking or asking for again, extremely relieved to find the younger bent over the sink rubbing her face with the running water, black mascara staining the white sink, a little red mixed in. A decorative plant is scattered on the floor, that is the less important thing. The image scares Weems, she freezes in place for an instant and the next is running around the bathroom looking for a towel or something that can wipe the head of her, grabbing a white hand towel from the cabinet. Without a second thought she pushes Y/N lightly, opening space so she can moisten the cloth and gently presses it where the injury was.  

"What are you doing?" the teacher asks confused as she lifts the face, finally seeing her condition clearly in the reflection of the mirror, feeling even more miserable.  

"You hurt your head..."  

"And? Not like it matters." she shrugs, grabbing another towel from the cabinet to dry her face, wiping the last remnants of makeup off "You can drop it and go back to your place, I just need a moment."  

The woman drops the towel and walks away with hands outstretched in surrender, almost rolling the eyes at such stubbornness.  

"I'm going back to the paperwork, you can go to your dorm."  

 "You don't want to anymore?" Y/N asks with head down, not having the courage to look her in the eye.  

"No." she replies simply and walks away, her conscience seemingly clear that she seems to be physically fine despite everything. 

She sits down in the chair again, staring at nothing, and eyes wander to the table in the corner of the office, the bottle of wine reserved for the night practically empty. That explains everything. Y/N is weak to alcohol, one glass is enough for her to be a complete mess for the rest of the night, one bottle can be... terrible. After two minutes without any movement or sign of life from inside the bathroom the worry takes over, what if she fell in the bathroom? No, there would be noise. Or she sat down and lost consciousness? If she is feeling sick... Larissa interrupts her own thoughts trying to tell herself that Y/N is a grown woman and can handle it, while she can barely control the panic with the idea that something serious is happening. It is a bloody cut, the one on the back of the head, one of the most fragile and dangerous places to hit. She is brought out of thoughts when she hears the door being opened, immediately looking for the younger and sees her struggling to walk, barefoot with the shoes in one hand and the other holding the towel. Face now clean, hair pinned up and she looks a little more sober, only looks, because legs cross each step, causing her to almost fall over after losing the support of the door frame. 

"Leave me..." she whispers when feels the presence of the other woman, who has run in stride to support her "I'll handle this on my own."  

"Fuck off, stop being stubborn." the tall takes her in arms ignoring the protests to leave her on the floor and walks quickly to the other door attached to the office, this one leads to a private bedroom "Be quiet." she says harshly when the younger doesn't stop complaining, trying to get out of her arms. That manages to make silence reign.  

Everything goes by like a blur, Y/N being placed on the soft bed, large elegant hands working to push the hair aside so that the severity of the injury can be checked, to great relief discovering it to be something superficial, but still needed some extra care. The small cut is carefully cleaned with cotton, saline and antiseptic, then gently dried, Larissa improvises a bandage with gauze and adhesive tape. The pain makes the girl moan from time to time, no matter how hard she tries to hold herself together it's almost impossible, the drunkenness that washes over her body also takes away any extra resistance. When the bandage is finished she tries to get up, being stopped by the same hands that took care, making her sit against the mattress again. They stare at each other for a few seconds before the older one turns her face away not supporting the eye contact.   

"Now can I leave?" Y/N asks after a few minutes of awkward silence.  

"No. Lie down." the blonde orders and gets up, walking to the closet from where she pulls out extra pillows and blankets, when turning around she almost drops everything on the floor at the sight "Please, put your clothes back on."  

Y/N props herself up on elbows and stares at her confused, sex is the only thing Larissa wants from her, she has made that clear many times and half an hour ago too. It's just sex. That's what sums up the "relationship" and the reason for the deal that makes her days miserable. And in the same night the woman denies it twice, in fact now seems even disgusted to look at her. She rises feeling defeat coursing inside, from flesh to bone, everything hurts, but nothing compares to the pain that forms in her chest every second she spends in this place. Soon her underwear and dress are put back on, the fabric already crumpled, a bit mismatched, very different from how it was before.  

"Here." the principal places two pillows on the left side of the bed, fluffing them and indicating with a hand for the other to lie down, which she does without asking questions despite the extremely confused look, as if it were nothing more than a strange dream "You need to stay awake for at least an hour, to make sure it was nothing more serious, after that you can go. " the younger just nods, carefully laying down, a groan of pain escapes as head reaches the pillow, soon a pill is placed in front of her "Painkiller." 

"Is it dipyrone?"  

 "No, ibuprofen, I know you are allergic to dipyrone."  

"Thank you."  

"Okay." Larissa shrugs and walks to the other side of the bed, sitting up "You know we can't continue after today, right?!"  

"Why?" her voice comes out broken, a lump forming in the throat at the mere thought of not being with the woman anymore, even if only for sex.  

"We broke the rules, you talked about feelings, I took care of you and now I'm letting you spend the night, none of that is part of the deal." they don't look each other in the eye for different reasons, the blonde sighs before continuing "That breaks the idea of friends with benefits."  

"To be friends with benefits we should be friends in the first place, but I don't think we ever were. You despise me." Y/N whispers bitterly and turns away, she would not give the other the pleasure of seeing her cry.  

"You're right."  

Time passes torturously slowly, Y/N tries not to cry again, which becomes impossible with the indifference and tension that builds more and more every second, then concentrates on not letting it become obvious, holding back sobs and shaking body. Everything hurts, face, chest, hands gripping hard on the pillow and an annoying headache, despite having taken ibuprofen earlier. For an hour and a half Larissa calls her sporadically to check if she is awake or not, occasionally asking if she feels nauseous or anything else, soon discovering that these are symptoms of post-drinking so she stops asking little by little until is completely quiet. That's when the teacher finally falls asleep, the blonde and usually kind (to others) principal in her mind, still trying not to believe it's over. Trying to fool herself with the idea, maybe the slightest possibility, that it's a nightmare where everything they had just slipped through her fingers because of a bottle of wine. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A week later Y/N finds herself running through the halls of Nevermore, dressed impeccably in a casual women's suit set in her favorite color, high heels tapping against the floor, hair brushed presentably, makeup light and she was glad to finally have the bandage off, it would surely spoil the perfect look to finally meet her students' parents. It has been six months of preparation for this moment, of course there are parents who were not very receptive to the idea of their children being taught by a simple normie who was not even raised in Jericho, just as there were those who supported her hiring and seem equally excited to meet her. Parents' Weekend is the opportunity to do that. She stops in front of the door and sighs, smoothing the fabric of the suit so that it is totally flawless, then smoothed the thin tank top under the blazer, for some reason it seems to be looser against the chest and dangerously close to the edge of the neckline, a few necklaces adorning majestically. The teacher knows she should be feeling fabulous with this look and the greetings she has rehearsed for hours memorized, but nothing takes her away from the miserable state she has been in for a week since she woke up alone in Weems' bedroom, with only a note on the bedside recommending that she go to the doctor and the best way out, without the danger of being seen, would be through the side door. Since then she has been trying to pull herself together, which means trying to avoid the woman as much as possible until it stops hurting.  

"You can do it, Y/N. You can take anything for 10 seconds, so just start over and everything will work out." she whispers to herself, closing the eyes in concentration "Allons-y!"  

And it all worked out, better than she could have imagined, the principal was nowhere to be seen, at least not in her field of vision. The first parents to show any interest were a vampire's parents, of the youngest, who complimented her highly on how she helped him adjust away from home, the three greeted each other happily before a gentle conversation. Which caught the attention of another vampire family, these were quieter, but equally kind. After an hour of the event she couldn't even count on fingers how many parents she managed to talk to and captivate, all making clear that despite initial reservations they had a good surprise and results with her hiring. This cheered the younger up a bit, at least something seems to be working out in her life, it's that saying, lucky in gambling and unlucky in love. 

"So you are the beautiful young lady my son talks so much about?" a voice comes up behind her after saying goodbye to Ajax's parents, when she turns around finds a tall man with striking features, sculpted body highlighted by the cut of his suit and a pair of mesmerizing chocolate eyes "Lucien Corbyn..." 

"Elijah's father?!" the parental connection between them is obvious, the boy being a souped up image of him "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Corbyn! Your son is a great student and very kind." she extends a hand expecting the man to shake, being surprised by the touch of his rough hand leading hers to his lips, where he leaves a lingering kiss, staring her in the eyes the whole time.  

"The pleasure is all mine." he whispers and smiles lowering his hand, still holding hers "Of course Eli is, he's my son and was raised by me...only me. All credit to his father." and blinks, trying to hint that he is a solo and consequently single father  

"I'm not surprised, you two are so much alike. Strong genes." Y/N comments nonchalantly, not realizing how this affects the instinct of the werewolf, who raises an eyebrow feeling audacious and also lucky to have finally found the perfect woman after the former wife's leaving.  

She may not have noticed, but the tall woman across the courtyard did and felt extremely uncomfortable at the sight, Larissa was present at the event the entire time, the first 40 minutes spent solving small problems and talking to the parents who donate money to the academy funds. Trying to be as invisible as possible, at the same time her eyes were always on her, the girl who torments days and takes away sleep at night with the simple fact of existing. Sometimes she got lost in the topic of some parent because her focus was too much on the teacher interacting with the families and giving attention to each one of them, after she pulled herself together, she excused and tried to dissipate it from mind, uselessly, since in the next second she was already doing the same thing. And she mentally thanked for repeating the behavior. Corbyn is a wealthy werewolf, leader of the wolf pack, they went to university together, in fact the man was a great conqueror until he married and had the son, but werewolves like big families, have lots of children to make the pack bigger, and he has made it clear in the last two years that he is in search of another mate to give him that.  

She greets the mother of some siren she can't even remember the name of, and walks slowly over to where the pair are talking, watching the interaction from a distance. Lucien still holds her hand, his other hand caressing her elbow, but Y/N barely notices because she is too excited talking about his son, one of the favorite children. His eyes are no longer on her face, the blonde can see the lust stamped on the werewolf's face as he stares at a lower point, the teacher's breasts. The two mounds are partially exposed by the neckline of the tank top she wears under her blazer, showing flushed skin and a small part of her lace bra, shit, even she can't look away and has been there, she knows every detail by heart, the softness to the touch, the nipples and how sensitive they can be tearing out sinful moans. Everything about her is sinful and Larissa was once the greatest sinner. As approaches she unconsciously takes off the gray coat, which is landing on Y/N's shoulders in seconds, she is startled by the touch and almost cannot believe it when she hears the familiar voice beside her, nor that the soft delicate gloved hands she misses so much are around shoulders holding her tightly, if it were someone else she might say it feels like a possessive touch.  

"I believe Elijah is expecting his father to spend time with him and not with the teacher." she says with venom in voice, a huge fake smile on the lips, staring at his hand hoping the man gets the hint.  

"You are right, Principal Weems. I am here for my little wolf." Corbyn agrees with an even more fake smile as he understands the message, instead of letting her go he squeezes the hand even tighter and brings it to his lips again "I hope to see you soon, beautiful young lady. The pack can't wait to host a dinner on your behalf." he winks and finally lets her go, looking directly at the blonde "See you later, Principal!" and doesn't get a response.  

Y/N keeps a neutral expression until Lucien disappears from sight soon after finding his son in the crowd and as soon as she doesn't see him uses the arms to try to get rid of the coat, but the long arms stop her and Larissa turn around so that they are face to face, without saying anything she adjusts the piece against the girl's body, covering her breasts and then fastens the buttons quickly. They stare at each other in the process, feeling the strangeness of the moment hit the pit of their stomachs, one feeling nauseous and the other boiling with anger inside, sunk in a feeling similar to jealousy, even if she denies it to herself.  

"It's cold." she says shrugging and adjusts the collar of the coat, not failing to notice how big this looks on Y/N, like a big fancy dress, it's almost.. cute to look at.  

"I have coats, you can have yours back." her voice comes out in a whisper and she tries to take off the coat again, but is stopped by the taller one, arms wrapping around her again so she doesn't do that "Principal Weems..."  

"Let's go inside."  

Before she can refuse she feels herself being held by the hand and dragged across the courtyard, barely able to keep up with the woman's steps, partly because of the height difference and also the heavy piece of clothing larger than her, which drags along the ground, none of them caring. On the way some parents observe the scene, from curious to pitying looks, thinking that maybe the teacher was in trouble for some reason, none of them had seen this angry expression on the principal's face before. She just lowers the gaze as just lets be led, knowing that there is no point in arguing, making a scene in front of parents is the last thing she wants.  

"What the hell were you thinking flirting with a student's father?" Larissa asks loudly, holding herself back from screaming, once they enter her office.  

"I wasn't..."  

"Yes, you were. Corbyn is the leader of a wolf pack, an alpha looking for a wife and someone to have his little wolves." she interrupts the younger angrily dumping the facts on the table.  

"And?" the answer is simple and mocking, increasing the tension in the room. The blue eyes fill with more anger.  

"You don't really know the werewolves, the alphas...they are...you are more than that. More than a trophy to exhibit, than a... breeding slut." the words coming out of her mouth surprises them both, vulgar language compared to her exquisite vocabulary.  

"What if marriage and children is something I want? At least Lucien would treat me well, not even hide me." Y/N teases and shrugs, even though she is completely disgusted inside at the idea of that man touching her in this way, besides, she really doesn't know much about werewolves and the classes of the species "And maybe I would be loved."  

In less than a second she finds herself practically lying on the armchair with the woman's body on top of hers, kneeling on the floor not caring about the expensive dress, faces inches apart, warm breath against lips and their eyes meet once again, there is fragility in both, many buried feelings suddenly showing. One hand of Larissa's holds the smaller wrist to the top of the armchair, above head, and the other lands below thigh, lifting the leg for the younger to wrap around her waist, so she does instinctively. 

"I can give you all of this, right now if you want me to." the older whispers without leaving her eyes, for the first time since they met she showed some vulnerability and to their surprise tears emerged, falling down her face faster than it came "Y/N, I can and want to give you all of this, whatever you wish."  

"Then why?" she is confused and shocked, for the past few months the thing she wished most is that someday hopefully her feelings would be reciprocated, receiving only coldness and indifference, accepting the crumbs of the deal they had, it was enough until no more, "Larissa, you despised me for months, as if I was nothing, invisible, even professionally, doubting my abilities just for being a normie. You made me feel...worthless, unworthy of love."  

"And I'm miserable for doing that to you, it was never my intention, but when I realized I was already putting up barriers and more barriers to keep you away, yet I couldn't. My romantic past is terrible, I've been hurt a lot by people whom I gave myself to and trusted blindly. For a blind person, as I was, pushing you away and hurting you seemed better than letting myself be hurt once again. I know, that's no excuse for all the shit I put you through. But I was broken emotionally when I met you, so that's why..." the principal stops talking when she feels Y/N's free hand gently wipe away her tears, thumb resting on the now flushed cheeks "I'm not trying to justify it, but I really was afraid to let you in, then when you were gone I realized that being afraid of losing you is bigger, also hurts more. That night I cried hiding in the office after you slept and uselessly tried to convince myself that it was the best thing for both of us, even if it was burning me up inside. And now that I saw that disgusting man touching you hurt like hell, I realized that I can't stand the idea of someone else being in your life like that."  

"I..." 

"Please forgive me, you were never worthless, I never despised you, never thought you were any of that, fuck, I don't even care that you are normie and I hired you precisely because you are fucking bright, a great teacher and role model for our students. I just can't say I'm sorry for being an asshole and for all the cruel words I've said, if you want I'll wash my mouth out with soap. Y/N, listen very attentively to my words now." Larissa leaves the wrist and long fingers run across the girl's face, admiring every detail, feeling her chest heavy as she remembers that damn night when she was a complete idiot, hurt her in so many ways and made her cry, when she thought lost her forever "You are worthy of all the love in the world, all the happiness, all the affection and you deserve only good things, I made a lot of mistakes, I was the worst person. But..." she sighs and tries to wipe the new wave of tears, anxiety taking over mind and heart "Can you give me a chance? To reward you and show you how much I appreciate you, if you want the world I'll try to give you just to show how deeply I love you."  

"You what?" both are shocked at the sudden declaration.  

"I..." red painted lips quiver and her eyes become clearer, like crystal water, Y/N sees the pure truth about her feelings behind them "I love you." she finally says, word for word, loud and clear.  

"I love you too." the younger whispers, those words meaning more than that, it's forgiveness. They draw closer and slowly bring their lips together.   

It's gentle and soft, as if this is the first time and they are discovering each other, very different from the real first time their lips touched months before, which led them to start everything. Neither can believe that this is really happening, or how amazing they feel with a simple kiss after having done so much more than that before. Lips move in sync, hearts racing and they engage in a tight hug, the blonde's arms taking the smaller body to herself, holding her lovingly by the waist and the back of neck. What makes Y/N groan in pain between the kiss, they separate momentarily only for Larissa to check if she is okay, that injury haunted her for a whole week, only reassured after threatening the doctor to tell about the health condition of her beloved. She soon discovers that the teacher is fine, as she is pulled in by Y/N to continue kissing, this time more intense, tongues meet immediately, feeling and exploring each other's mouths with affection and desire, so much desire that makes the skin burn, feverish with love. It's a kiss that is full of all the feelings hidden for months, of the pain they have gone through in different ways, but about the same thing, the desire to be together. 

"What are we now?" Y/N asks as soon as their lips part and they are looking at each other again, this time instead of tears there are genuine and almost shy smiles "And what are we doing?"  

"Well, I was planning to take you on a date and propose formally..."  

 "Really, Weems? I thought your silly hand was driving us to another thing..." she points to the long fingers under the coat, between the fabric of her tank top and the waistband of the pants.  

"I'm sorry." she is about to take the hand away from there, but is stopped and feels the soft lips against hers again in a quick kiss.  

"It's okay..." the buttons are slowly unbuttoned, the tank top showing and when Larissa moves closer to kiss her the fabric is accidentally pulled, exposing even more breasts along with the lace bra that almost drove the principal crazy earlier.  

"If I didn't know you I'd say it was all planned." the two laugh and the taller one nods in denial, then pulls on the coat wrapping herself in it, bodies pretty much attached inside "Please, never let Lucien come near you like that again. Just seeing him touching and looking at you like that made me boil inside, I wanted to kill him."  

"He wouldn't have come close if I already belonged to someone."  

"Fair enough. And that brings us to the previous question, are we more than girlfriends?" the blonde asks a little fearfully afraid she's jumping the gun, they've been sleeping together for about six months now, but under her stupid terms, fruits of damn insecurity "Or...?"  

"We are whatever we want to be." she thinks of an objective answer, but not even she, who has always wanted this relationship, knows how to define what they have.  

"Then you will be mine, in every way. Body, soul, and mind." they intertwine fingers and Larissa has to fight back new tears when the other nods in agreement, the fear of speaking this fading, her heart speeds up even more "We have a lot to fix, I have a lot to make up for, but I want to be better for you, to be worthy to call you girlfriend and one day wife."  

"You are already worthy, you just didn't know it." Y/N whispers with emotion in voice, fighting back her own tears as she faces the woman she loves in the same state, their heads touch and both close eyes just enjoying the moment, feeling the calm after the storm "It's okay now."  

"It's okay now." she agrees opening a smile and they gap a little, staring at each other "Damn, I can't believe I finally had the courage to say I love you." 

"Neither do I, it's like you're a different Larissa, a better Rissa, who talks, gives affection, knows how to express yourself." the younger's hands run down the principal's neck and rest on the soft face, caressing cheek, then the temple, eyebrows, nose, chin and finally the fleshy lips that quiver at the gentle touch "And love me."  

Their lips come together again in a delicate and emotional kiss, still a new feeling to be able to touch and be like this after all they have been through. What they are doing is no longer relieving stress or satisfy horniness trying to control all the built up sexual tension, there are no sloppy kisses, rushed hands, cold touches and even less the usual neglect. It's exactly the opposite of that, affection is conveyed with every touch and the kisses seem simply addictive, like they could live this moment forever and if at some point they parted it would fade away, just like their dreams before.  

"I knew I couldn't kiss you this way before or I would fall to my knees in love..." Larissa murmurs between the kiss and points to how she stands in front of the armchair, on knees between her legs, hands holding her "And I was right."  

"You're such an idiot, Rissa." they smile and the blonde pulls her around the waist, rubbing hips against Y/N's intimacy, both moan at the friction "My Rissa..."  

"Only yours. And you only mine."  

"I have never been so happy to break rules in my life."  

"And I thank you for it."  

They feel deep happiness and peace, nothing matters around, Parents' Weekend, not even the rowdy students, this is their moment. As soon as their lips touch again calmness hangs over heads, there is no more fear, pain or anything like that, just the feeling of being realized and complete after letting love speak louder.  

"I love you, Y/N..." 

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[lieslab]

So different from the crowd

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Lee Minho X gn reader

Summary: An evening in the park goes quiet after you reveal your inner struggles.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.1K

Trigger warning: Self-hatred and identity issues.

A/N: I hope this comes across to the people who need it most right now. I'm feeling emotional, so consider this a love letter from me to you. You're going to do great things, I know you will <3

_ _ _

No matter how much time passed, it always still seemed to sting. There’s always different kinds of rejection in life. Sometimes simple words can easily be brushed off, but other times, they dig into sensitive flesh. Words worm their way into your brain and they follow the blood flow until they reach your heart. 

People try to learn how to take constructive criticism, but with a heart full of stitches and oozing holes, sometimes it feels impossible. Would it ever feel right? When would words start slipping off you like a water resistant coating instead of silencing you? Your hopes. Your dreams. Your identity. Why did it have to be so hard? 

For some, their identity is as simple as slipping on a t-shirt. It fits perfectly and it doesn’t feel wrong. The wool doesn’t irritate the skin. The cotton isn’t too tight. There’s never any questioning because the skin on their body fits properly. 

For some people, it will never feel right. The color of their skin, the way their bodies are formed, whoever they choose to love, it will always feel off; a tag scratching against the back of their neck, even if they try to cut it off. 

Will self-love ever win? Will it ever fill the aching void deep inside and settle the unrest? Will it finally feel as easy as breathing? When would it be your turn to experience the joyous feeling of loving yourself? 

“Wee! Look at me! Look at me!” 

You glanced over at the sound of a voice. Across the way, Minho was kicking himself higher and higher into a golden sunset sky. The diminishing sunlight caused his eyes to sparkle. He grinned when your eyes met his. 

His smile was infectious, so you felt your own start to grow on your face. “What are you doing?” You called out to him. 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m swinging! Look how high I am?” A giggle spilled from his mouth. “I’m gonna go straight to the moon!” 

It was silly to be a grown adult and act so childish. Luckily for you, you liked silly. Minho and you had been close friends forever. He finished recording earlier in the evening and asked if you’d like to hang out. How were you supposed to reject the offer? 

The clouds smeared the skies with dark yellows. A gray-blue was swallowing the clouds whole across the way. Fleeting birds passed and swooped down along the ground. They were attempting to find the last bits of food before the fading sunlight disappeared. 

Minho’s legs pumped back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Again and again and again. He constantly propelled himself higher and higher. You watched with a smile. 

Between the swings and creaks of the rusted swing set, Minho turned into a boy again. Youth filled his face and his laughter rang out louder. How many times must he have done the same thing as a kid? Back when swing sets felt like rocket ships and slides were space launchers. Quick adrenaline bursts at recess left him breathless and giddy for another chance to go higher or faster. 

Childhood was so fragile for some and strengthening for others. After all, it was the paved way into your teenage years. Your teen years dipped into adulthood and that’s why you were the way you were. 

“Come join me!” 

You shook your head. 

“Come on!” 

“I’m not interested. I don’t remember the last time I was on a swing set. Besides, the connecting chains are so rusted and what if I-” 

And then he was flying. The swing pulled back and swooshed forth, but he didn’t second guess the high speed. He shifted his hands and propelled himself off the rubber bottom. 

You gasped and jerked upright from the wooden picnic table you were at. The moment his feet dragged along the sienna mulch, you were up in an instant. You rushed over with wide eyes. “Hey, are you okay? You shouldn’t have done that! What if you would have gotten injured?” 

He said it with a mischievous smile. “You worry too much. Come on!” There wasn’t time to respond as he looped his hand through yours. 

He jerked you through the mulch until the two of you reached a blue-based mary-go-round. He gave you a gentle shove and stepped up to the side of it. When you hesitated, he patted the cool metal base. 

You climbed forward and sat down. Lowering your body onto it, you grabbed one of the white railings and let out a soft sigh. “Just don’t make it go too fast, okay? You know I get nauseous easily.” 

“I know, I know. I haven’t forgotten about it, so just try to relax.” He curled a foot around the nearest white mound and placed his other foot in the bed of mulch. He kicked off and the two of you began to slowly spin in a circle. 

“So what’s on your mind?” 

“Nothing.” 

“It’s written all over your face.” 

A creaking sound filled the air. The old spinning mechanisms beneath the machine hadn’t been used in quite a while. This specific playground was hidden away at the end of a dead end street. 

It wasn’t filled with lively children. It was so small and there weren't many kids in the area. A bigger and well maintained park lied in the heart of the town. Instead of maintaining this park, it just slowly seemed to rot away. 

Old paint peeled and was never repainted. The slide had a long worn spot along the metal where people used to slide down over and over again. The once playful laughter of kids had been replaced by a haunted stillness. 

The rocking animals were covered in a layer of heavy grime and rust. Over the years, the weather poured and snowed. Temperatures skyrocketed and then they froze again. Without maintenance and proper upkeep, the smiling bunny rabbit, and what looked to be a dinosaur, had been left to fend for themselves. 

“So what’s it really?” Minho tried again. 

It’s the one thing that you had bittersweet feelings about. No matter what you felt, he always picked up on it if it was a negative feeling. As if he was personally skimming through the thoughts in your brain and reading them word-for-word. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re not in the right body?” 

All that was left was the squeakiness of the merry-go round. His foot had picked up as you spun in a slow circle. He glanced off to the side and slowly blinked. The words were echoing in his head as he attempted to put a response together. 

“I suppose that I do feel like that sometimes, yeah. I’ll question different parts of myself, but at the end of the day, I’m me and I think that’s pretty cool.” 

You scoffed and shook your head. “Pretty cool? Yeah, well, it’s not pretty fucking cool when you don’t have half the population simping over your good looks.” 

“I hit a nerve, huh?” 

You shook your head and shoved your leg out to stop the spin. Instead, Minho kicked wildly at the ground. You yelped and clutched the pole you clung to while your body jerked back by the force of gravity. 

“Don’t go. I was half-kidding, but I was also serious. The great thing about life is that a person can change. We can fix our features and we can change our clothes. If we don’t like our hair color, we ca-” 

“And what about the color of our skin? What about the people we’re sexually attracted to? What if I feel like I’m in the wrong body with the wrong parts? If I’m just a puzzle and all the pieces are scrambled? What then?” 

“I’d say fuck the people who ever made you feel that way because you shouldn’t have to worry about things like that. Those are things that you shouldn’t have to change to please people.” 

“I just want to be accepted,” you finally whispered softly. 

The creaking began to fade away as the two of you came to a slow stop. The sun was disappearing quicker and quicker. Darkness was creeping from above, but it couldn’t hide the pools of sadness in your eyes. 

It didn’t stop the way your body curled in around itself. The flicker of the past and present colliding. Your young self pushing through the reflection of you and searching for that same praise and validation that you always had. You craved validation like a kid craved a proud parent. 

You’d go to the ends of the earth for someone, as long as it meant being recognized. At the end of the day, it was all you ever wanted. You wanted to be seen. You wanted to be heard. You wanted someone to reach out and clutch onto you and say it back. 

“I exist. I’m alive. I’m here and I’m breathing. Despite the hate, despite the disappointment, despite it all, I’m still here. I’m fighting, I’m trying, and I’m surviving.” 

The world wasn’t always kind to those with differences. How could it be? To be different was to be bizarre. An outcast. A freak. A weirdo. It terrified people to be different. 

“What if I’ll never be good enough?” You finally uttered weakly. “What if I’m just what people say I am?” 

“But what if you're not? What if you’re someone with an amazing heart? What if you’re someone who heals people in ways you don’t understand? What if you radiate sunshine and you don’t even realize it because the rain clouds are blocking your vision?” 

You hated how much hope you found in a single person because it felt like the world was screaming at you. You were being swallowed and thrown into a vortex with nowhere to scream. 

Rumors ran wild on social media. Society always seemed to throw you into a molded stereotype, even if you didn’t quite fit. You were stretched to be someone you weren’t. Squashed down just to be another statistic in a textbook. 

“You know…” he leaned back against the metal pole. The coolness sat among his spine and straightened his posture. “Sometimes there’s not enough people out there that speak up. Sometimes they’re anxious and other times, they’re just scared in general.” 

“But sometimes,” he continued, “some people admire others from afar. Things aren’t always so black and white. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you're not. You might feel like you have to, but you don’t.” 

His foot swung out again. Slowly, he shifted and he pushed himself backwards with the force. “This life can be a blessing or a curse, it’s up to you to handle however things are thrown at you.” 

Your eyes found the ground. He noticed it instantly, but he didn’t let up. “I hope one day you find the peace you need to find within yourself. I know I’m not a hundred people, but I know we’re friends and you value my opinion. No matter what you struggle with, I’m happy that you’re you.” 

He pushed a bit faster and a loud creak sounded. At that moment, it was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered as he spoke. You drank his words like a special elixir because you needed them more than ever. 

Life could be hard and people could be cruel. Self-doubt could slither in like a snake and have you choking for air before you knew it. It meant so much coming from someone like him. 

“I like you more than other people.” 

“Why can’t you just say ‘I love you’ like a normal person?” You tried to keep it together, but your voice cracked. It gave away just how vulnerable and lost you were feeling. 

“Love?” His face scrunched up. “Bleh. I don’t have time for that. I don’t think love is anywhere in my vocabulary.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

He shoved his foot hard across the ground. A handful of mulch fluttered in different directions and you screeched. He grinned and launched himself up onto his feet. He kicked again and again and again. You spun faster and faster, it felt like flying. 

That childish happiness was back. Around and around you went and where you ended up, nobody knew. How you landed was up to you. Your laughter tangled together beneath the yellowed streetlights. 

The abandoned playground finally felt the familiar warmth of innocence and laughter once more. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

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[eri-pl]

For @morgoth-into-the-void-week day 2: the Void. Again, not much Morgoth in this, mostly talking about… well, about today's topic. Science/philosophy without plot. I think I like those.

Athrabeth Finrod ah Ilmare

AKA too much astronomy

"I don't know," said Ilmare with a smile, just as Finrod approached her and bowed. She sat on the grass, among bloming white crocuses, contrasting against her dark blue robe. A wide view of Aman stretched in front of them, perfectly clear despite the height.

Finrod smiled too, partially to chase away his irritation. "I haven't even said anything."

"Everyone knows your kind of questions. The fate of Men. And Elves. And the end of Arda. Why else would you climb up here?"

"I was visiting my grandmother, it's not far to climb here from her house. Yes, I decided to use this opportunity to ask you a question, my lady. But it has less to do with death or time, and more with the far reaches of the sky."

"Sit down then, as this may be a long discussion. Time and the far reaches… they are not as different as you may think. But ask, then, so that I will not keep answering the wrong questions."

Finrod sat somewhat below her, as respect for a Maia dictated, but still close enough to make the conversation feel more friendly than formal. "What is the Door of Night? What lies beyond it?"

Ilmare blinked. "Is this about your cousins?"

"No, not really. I know— I met them." Finrod shook his head, focusing on happier thoughts. "It's about many things. About the limits of Ea. Earendil goes through the Door, and yet he does not leave it. But when Morgoth was thrown… The way Lord Manwë spoke about it, everybody spoke about it was as if he ceased to exist, or at least, if that's even possible, somewhat ceased. Yet, it is said that he will one day return and Earendil—" He stopped, seeing Ilmare's displeased expression.

"Said by whom?"

Finrod moved away, even moreso with his mind than his body. "The wise."

"If so, then they aren't as wise as you deem them. Who would say such things? Rúmil? It does sound like Rúmil. I am not demanding an answer. I do respect your willingness to protect the reputation of others. Even if they are not wise." She shook her head, silver hair sparkling in the sun. "Whoever said this, do not take your lore from them. I can show you the limits of Ea."

For a while he did not know what to say.

"Not the limits you seem more interested in," added Ilmare, "but one that shall answer this question."

An invitation hung in the air, an unseen plea, and Finrod yielded to it. Darkness seemed to surround him, filled with countless stars, and in the middle of the darkness there was something like a ring, or a star that was empty inside, a crown of fire surrounding a deep darkness not unlike the one that came when the Trees had died. The starlit void twisted around it.

"The Door of Night lead to Ilmen, through which Earendil sails." Those words seemed to echo in the emptiness around, spoken in Ilmare's clear, melodic voice. "And nothing can leave Ea within Time, or enter it, except spirits of the Children. And prayers, messages, yes, this too. But as for beings, only the spirits of the both kindreds may come, and the spirits of Men may leave. And yet—"

The empty star seemed to move closer, but its shape twisted and trembled, like a miswrought glamour.

"Unfortunately, I do not know how do they look when seen with bodily eyes, and I can imagine only this much. Those things do not have a name, but I think of them as Doors of Nothing, or Doors of Forever. Nothing living can stand their closeness. Nothing that is of the matter of Ea. I tried to look at them embodied, but couldn't— they unravel everything that is not spirit. They unravel the Time itself."

Ice crept up Finrod's spine and he was suddenly back on the sunny meadow, trembling, his heart racing.

Ilmare stared at him.

"So—" he managed to say "—so it is, indeed, terrible? but no, it can't— It can't be."

She smiled gently, and slowly reached towards his head, and when he leaned in, started stroking his hair, as if Finrod was but a child. And like a child he did feel now.

"No, it is not terrible. It is strange, and not meant to be touched. But those are part of Ea, and, as each part, necessary. They proved necessary. For you see, Morgoth was bound to his body, by his own choices, but nonethless strongly."

Her hand at his head was warm and calming, and Finrod closed his eyes, letting the sun color his vision red.

Ilmare continued. "And those Doors… if we looked at Morgoth, if I showed you the one he was thrown into, when he reaches it —which I will not show you, as you are already scared enough— you would see him forever falling, stoped in place, unable to reach the center. But for him, from what my lady told me, for him it is a mere moment, and then he falls. And then nobody knows, but I think this means that we shall meet him when Time itself ends, because only then those two stories can meet."

For him? For us? This was not how time was supposed to work. And yet, if Lady Varda herself had said that… "I think I need some time to think about what you told me. Thank you, my lady, and I apologize for rejecting your vision."

Ilmare looked at him with a warm smile. "You do not need to apologize. I know that the Children are scared by things we cannot predict, and amazed by surprising things, and enraged… After all those years, you are still a riddle to us. Please, visit me if you will have more questions, I did enjoy this conversation. I will try to be less terryfying the next time."

As the Maia went away, and the last glimmer of silver embroidery of her cloak dissapeared behind the turn of a mountain path, Finrod lay on the meadow. Something she had said echoed in his head, but he couldn't say what. It still felt like a riddle than like an answer, but neverthless it pulled at his heart softly but deeply, with the feeling he hadn't felt since he died. What had she said? What about the empty star was so important?

No matter how terryfying the vision had been, this was just the beginning of his research.

[siremasterlawrence]

The Sensationalization Of Mayor Chris

The Mayoral candidate Christopher Michael Evan Robert’s is enjoying time with his family as the window opens up letting the air flow into the air and tussle his hair as it flew past him. His cellphone ring’s extraordinarily loudly in to the room causing him shake as he never heard a sound like that before and swiftly saves his cellphone from gravity and a collision with the floor. The minutes he picks it up something felt so awful as he places his ears to the cellphone, pressing play as a weird eerie sound emits erupting full force. His eyes are the tell tale sound going white, blank, and void of all things draining him of his soul, his eyes roll back into the socket closing and falling back into a bar stool. A powerful voice strained odd voice is calling into his ears demanding him to obey me and succumb to my will as always he can’t move a single limp on my pleasant.

“Wwwwhhhhhooooo…..is this?”

“Your lord and Master”

“Do I know you ? I don’t work for you “

“Yes you do! Think about it”

“This is ridiculous…why can’t I…”

“Hang up? Lmao”

“Yyyyeeesss”

“Hear my voice “

“Your echo is….”

“Beautiful “

“Do you love me?”

“The feelings are flooding “

“Overwhelming “

“You love me”

“YES!”

“I have a wife and a fam”

“Ssssshhhhh…you single and gay “

“Master Lawrence! Hey babe”

“You might want to turn on the television “

“Why sir?

“Your Mayoral run is over”

“Master Lawrence “

“Zip it “

“Fuck off!

“SILENCE you Neanderthal”

“Sorry but…”

“But what?”

“You despise government “

“I despise government “

“I will serve My Master only “

“With exhausting efforts “

“I will make it a easy win”

“How can you do this?”

“Who am I?l

“My Master “

“That’s all you need to know”

“Master Lawrence! They are in full force.” Chris says to me.

“I am an aware boi!” His Master states from his computer room.

“How would you?” Chris stood perplex.

“I am in your head, in your home and I am everywhere.” The man states.

“Wait! Are you here?” Chris asks in excitement.

“What would you do if I were?” He questions

“I would leap off the floor and bow.” Chris yells.

“Bow to who?” The man asks.

“You of course “ he utters proudly

“Good boi!” I say watching him melt.

“You love the sound of my voice.” The voice calls outward.

“I would follow you anywhere” he continues

“I’ll do anything “ he sweetly adds.

“I need you right now! Please come” he begs .

“I am in your house “ the man replies

“I am waiting with bells on” Chris shouts

“I am coming down the stairs” the man says

“I’ll walk to you “ Chris speaks holding onto his heart.

“Give me a hug” Chris opens his arms wide

“You smell good Slave “ he grabs Chris in the moment.

“I am so thrilled, hard and in disbelief “

“What’s going on in that rock for brains?”

“Everything you say, I am in love “

“With me?”

“My ultimate desire “

“My greatest wish “

“I move to your orders”

The counts go off without a hitch giving way to a smooth landslide into office but Chris could care less as he has something so much better in this world and it is all due to me. I am the radiate sunshine in his life lighting up everything that’s consumes and totally surrounds him in his life nothing else could ever compare but I am his Master Lawrence for life. His eyes start to spin changing from black and white to color like a television set on the bunk and comes to turning his pupils all blue and his hands are now wrapping onto me groping my ass.

His hands are very active intact way too active ripping part of his shirt to get to the meat laying below and his has check me over watching his body as if it is a fine piece of art. He is like fine wine being uncorked from the bottle as the scent floats into the air hitting his nostrils and tickles his nose making him swoon at the fact I am stand in his presence. Our lips touching slowly as we grip each other intensely his body is on fire, burning up from inside causinghim to lose himself and knowing full wellbecause I rule the roost.

“FUCK!”

“I love you “

“I love you too”

“You don’t understand “

“Tell me “

“You can’t fathom how I feel”

“Educated guess?”

“Please try”

“Hold me Master Lawrence “

The end