#trying to figure out which is the funniest option.

[micamone]

[ckret2]

Chapter 20 of Human Bill is the Mystery Shack's (secret) prisoner (title tbd), featuring: at last, Wendy discovering the "house guest." And Stan discovering Wendy discovered the house guest. And Bill and Stan having the funniest argument imaginable.

Also featuring: Ford letting Fiddleford in on the secret and asking for his help getting rid of Bill for good.

####

"Hey dudes," Soos said, leaning into the living room. Bill and Mabel looked up from Mabel's phone. "Me and Melody and Ford are heading out for anime night. If you've got an emergency, call me; and if you don't have an emergency, uh... don't. Cuz we're gonna be anime-ing hard."

"Anime night?" Bill repeated. "Why's Stanford going to anime night?"

Soos blinked. "Is... that a trick question?" he asked. "Hey—aren't you not allowed to use phones?"

"He's not using it," Mabel said. "I'm using it. He's just watching a video over my shoulder. I've got him secured for our safety!" Bill demonstratively held up his bloody sock-wrapped hands.

"Oh. Smart thinking," Soos said. He nodded and left.

Bill looked back at the phone, left eye shut and right eye squinted, then pointed at the screen and murmured, "Oh, there—037, 037 is a big winner." Mabel nodded and wrote down "Beach 037" on a piece of paper where she'd been listing scratch card serial numbers.

Soos came back. "Hey," he said, "Bill. Why are your hands bloody."

"Because my eye's bleeding." As he said so, a bright red drop of blood rolled out of his right eye like a tear. He wiped it off his cheek with one hand, adding another stain to the sock.

"Oh. Okay," Soos said. "Why's your eye bleeding."

Mabel helpfully answered, "Because it's hard for him to see into a higher dimension from here."

"Hey." Bill nudged her with an elbow. "That was for your ears. But yes, if you have to know. Human eyeballs are—limited. It causes some some light cranial hemorrhaging." He squinted at the video again. Another bloody tear rolled down his cheek.

Soos stood uncomfortably in the doorway. "Looks... kinda painful."

"Excruciatingly," Bill said casually. Mabel mouthed he's fine at Soos.

Soos said, "Do you... want a headache pill? Or an eyepatch or something?"

"Oh." Bill looked up at Soos in surprise. "Is that an option?"

Soos shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Huh." Bill was momentarily silent, processing this revelation about the medical care options he was permitted. Finally, he said, "No to the pill—I think I'm getting a migraine aura, and I don't want to stop the little white spots before they develop into full hallucinations! I'd hate to miss that light show, you know?"

Soos nodded, as though he did know. He did not, in fact, know.

"But I could use an eyepatch," Bill said.

"You got it. Be right back."

Soos retrieved an unopened costume eyepatch from the spares for his Mr. Mystery outfit, brought it downstairs, and handed it over to Bill's socked hand. "Do you uh—need help getting that on?"

"I'll do it when we're done with the phone," Bill said, and returned to watching the video.

Mabel poked his side. "What do we say?"

"Thanks," Bill said without looking up, followed by, "062." Mabel dutifully copied the number down.

Soos headed out to his pickup, where Melody and Ford were waiting. "Sorry for the delay, guys," he said, sliding into the driver's seat. "Bill's eyeball is bleeding from trying to look at a higher dimension, so I had to get him an eyepatch."

In the back seat, Ford frowned and pulled his journal from inside his coat and flipped open to the most recent page. "Which eye?"

"Uh..." Soos held up a hand and turned it as he mentally rotated Bill to figure out which side his bloody eye would be on if it were on Soos's body. "Right. His right."

"Did he happen to mention which dimension he was trying to see?"

"Nuh-uh. He probably won't say either, he was kinda annoyed Mabel told me that much."

Mabel might know, then. Ford could ask her. Probably tomorrow—late tomorrow, after the party.

Melody asked, "He's not gonna need a doctor, is he?"

Soos started the truck. "He seemed really casual about the whole thing, so, I don't think so?"

"That's a relief," Ford muttered.

They started the drive to the former Northwest Manor.

####

When Fiddleford answered the front door and saw Ford, he smiled so wide it made Ford smile too. "Stanford! It's been a month of Sundays since I saw you last!"

"Fiddleford." Ford reached out to take Fiddleford's hand—and got tugged into a one-armed hug. He recovered from his surprise enough to return it. "It's good to see you. You're looking well." Which was to say: still looking aged before his time and running around barefoot and shirtless in his overalls; but a little less sunburned, a little more bathed, and merely "scrawny" rather than "emaciated." Ford figured if the man wanted to run around shirtless in his own lavish 150-year-old mansion, that was his own business. 

"Just like we promised," Melody said, "one Ford dragged to your doorstep."

"Yes!" Soos pumped a fist in the air. "Operation Ford-Ford Reunion: completed! We uh—we didn't actually drag him, though. He was excited to come."

"He oughta be," Fiddleford said. "This'll be just like old times! Back in college, this man showed me all sortsa Japanese movies about big monsters and robots clobberin' each other. It was my first taste of international cinema!" He scratched his beard. "I wonder if that had any kinda impact on me?"

Melody and Soos looked at Ford with new respect. Soos said, "I didn't realize you were such a man of culture."

"All right, enough jibber-jabberin' on my porch!" Fiddleford waved Soos and Melody in. "You youngins go on ahead. Us old timers have to catch up. Tate's in the kitchen rustlin' up some vittles."

"Sweet, movie snacks," Soos said. He turned to Melody. "Wanna take the hidden service tunnel the Northwests used to hide the less pretty servants?"

"Pffft! Is that even a question?"

Soos tapped a foot twice on a square of Venetian parquet flooring just left of the door. A section of floor beneath them dropped down to form a slide, and Soos and Melody plummeted into the dark, squealing and laughing. The floor swung back up.

Fiddleford said, "I sure hope I fixed that tunnel to go to the pantry 'stead of the secret dungeon. Anywho!" He ambled his bow-legged way into the manor, gesturing for Ford to follow him. "We'll take the scenic route."

Ford looked around as he followed Fiddleford. He'd never been allowed in the front way before—the last time he'd visited the Northwest Manor back in the eighties, he'd been told to come in through a side door. It had been a very long walk. The front door opened directly into a great hall large enough to serve as a ballroom, with a staircase at the far end that led up to a fireplace and then forked left and right. A whale statue hung from the ceiling and still seemed dwarfed by the vast room. Ford had taken classes in lecture halls smaller than this. "I'm surprised you're still answering your own door. With all you made selling your inventions, I'd have expected you to hire a butler by now."

"I built me one a few months back," Fiddleford said, "but it kept trying to murder the feller what brings my mail. So I locked it in the coat room until I can figure out what went wrong."

There was a violent thud and scraping against a door near the entrance.

"Don't worry about that. It's reinforced," Fiddleford said. "Now, how long have you been back in town—a couple weeks?"

"Nearly." Had it really been less than two weeks? Somehow that felt both too long and too short. He'd accomplished so little with two weeks at his disposal. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come by. I wanted to as soon as I was back in town. You must think me a terrible friend—"

"Nonsense," Fiddleford said firmly. "I knew you'd come when you could—and here you are, ain'tcha? I reckoned you must've been busy with something."

"Yes," Ford agreed, with a bitter laugh. "More busy than you can imagine."

"Well, there you go! Nothin' to beat yourself up over."

Ford slowed, dropping a few steps behind Fiddleford, feet heavy, feeling like a physical pressure was keeping him from walking forward; and then he stopped. "I'm sorry to say, but that's part of the reason I'm here." He stared at the gap between his boots and Fiddleford's feet, the beautiful hardwood floor and the thin layer of dirt that had settled on it. "Of course, I wanted to visit you too, but... I need your help, Fiddleford."

He'd meant to wait until after the show to bring this up, let Fiddleford enjoy his evening without anxiety—hadn't he learned with Mabel not to try to mix business and socialization?—but now that Ford was here, the bad news threatened to bubble out of him with every breath. He wouldn't be able to enjoy his evening with his dread of the coming conversation weighing down on him. (What right did he have to enjoy the evening, when he knew he was once again about to make his mistakes Fiddleford's problem?) 

But, Ford hadn't had the self-control to keep it to himself for just another few hours—he must have been too tired—excuses, excuses—and now Fiddleford was giving him that look he got when he was fully focused on a conversation, eyes wide and surprised-looking, as if opening them further would let him absorb more of the information he was receiving. "Of course, Stanford. What sort of help?"

Of course, he said. Of course, like Ford didn't have a history of asking for help that ruined people's lives. Either Fiddleford was charitable enough to assume Ford wouldn't inflict the kind of monstrous horrors on him he had thirty years ago, or selfless enough to offer anyway.

Ford swallowed hard. "It's heavy," he warned. "I don't want to ruin the show. Would you rather wait until afterward to discuss it...?" Although Ford doubted Fiddleford would stand for that.

Sure enough, Fiddleford waved off the idea with his bandaged arm. "Don't be silly. Now that you've brought it up, it's gonna give me the heebity-jeebies until I know what's wrong! Anyway, how heavy could it be?" He laughed wryly. "Can't possibly be as bad as that triangle feller, can it?"

Ford didn't know what expression had appeared on his face, but the effect on Fiddleford was instantaneous. His smile vanished; his lined face went as white as his beard. "Is it as bad?"

Ford winced. "Let me explain—"

"It's him." Fiddleford didn't phrase it as a question. "No. It can't— You're lyin'! You're lyin'!" He backed away from Ford as if he was the threat, tripped and tumbled to the floor, and scampered backward on his hands and feet.

And here was the screaming. Age had not dulled Fiddleford's hair-trigger panic response. Ford had hoped to explain it to him gently, ease him into the bad news before revealing who it was, but if all he could do now was damage control... Ford knelt down like he was trying to coax over a frightened cat. "Fiddleford, please—"

One of Fiddleford's legs spasmed, bouncing like a rabbit thumping its foot in warning of predators. "Not him! The beast— The beast with just one—"

"Two eyes," Ford corrected.

And the unexpectedness of the correction momentarily cut straight through Fiddleford's panic. His wild eyes focused on Ford in bafflement. "Say wha?"

"He has two eyes now," Ford said. "And he's powerless and imprisoned. He survived—but he's not a threat." It was a slight exaggeration, but Ford's first priority was calming Fiddleford down. He could introduce nuance once Fiddleford wasn't panicking.

"He's—He's not a—He's—"

"Deep breath," Ford said.

Fiddleford sucked in a deep breath, held it just long enough that Ford was starting to worry, and let it out in a long, deep gush. "Whoo!" He smacked his head with his palm, and then another couple times for good measure. "Sorry 'bout that. Just—got a little excited. Let me catch my..." He took another couple of deep breaths.

Ford waited patiently. "You're better at dealing with alarming news than you used to be." Maybe that wasn't the best praise, considering that Ford had usually been the one delivering the alarming news.

"I'm not sure I am. I think I just get it all out of my system faster." Fiddleford took one last deep breath, and said, "All right. Explain this to me."

Ford gave Fiddleford the rundown on the last two weeks—Bill's arrival, his capture, the stalemate as they realized that neither side could risk Bill's death without knowing what would happen. He explained everything they knew or suspected about Bill's current powers or lack thereof, and how they were containing and neutralizing him further.

He even pulled out his current journal to show Fiddleford Bill's appearance: a few days ago, Ford had gotten a drawing of Bill in the living room watching TV, huddled up against the armrest of the sofa as if he wanted to stay as close to the doorway as possible, one eye squeezed shut, the other glazed with disinterest, the corners of his mouth curled down despondently. Ford had done the quick rough sketch while watching Bill from the kitchen, then retreated to his room to flesh out the details. There was no way Ford was neglecting to properly document the unwelcome phenomenon occurring in his house, but there was doubly no way Ford was giving Bill's ego the pleasure of knowing he was drawing him again. 

Fiddleford cocked a brow. "Bill's a woman?"

"I'm not sure whatever force humanized him was too picky about the sex," Ford said. "For that matter, I'm not sure he's picky about his sex. It's never come up." What kind of genders did Bill's species have? Did they have genders? Ford should ask. (Ford should not ask. He took that idea, stuffed it in a bag, and threw it in a lake.)

"Huh." Fiddleford gave Ford a skeptical look. "Y'all're letting him watch TV?"

"He's threatened to kill himself if he gets too bored," Ford said tiredly. "He knows if we were to completely lock him up, he'd be as good as dead, since we could just keep him there until we find a guaranteed way to kill him. He says he'd sooner die by his own hand in that circumstance, and he's mad enough I think he'd make good on it. So, to maintain the current stalemate, we've agreed on some... limited privileges."

"Including television."

"Honestly? Moving the TV out of the living room just so he couldn't watch it didn't seem worth the trouble. We use that TV too."

Fiddleford grunted; but he offered the journal back to Ford. He offered it held open, and his gaze didn't break from Bill's face until Ford shut it and put it back into his jacket pocket. "So," Fiddleford said. "You said you need help?"

"Yes. At the moment, we're safe from Bill. All we have to do is find a way to destroy both his body and whatever's inside it, whether it's a human soul or an energy being—and use it before he learns we have it and does something drastic."

Fiddleford pressed his lips together, so thin they disappeared behind his whiskers. "Stanford, I want to help any way I can, but none of my killer robots or deadly lasermajigs are designed for incineratin' space demons. I don't rightly know if I can help."

"But you've already helped. You—" Ford hesitated. "You might want to brace yourself for another shock."

Fiddleford wrapped his arms around his chest and laced his hands together behind his back. "Ready!"

"While I was exploring other dimensions, I found a parallel Earth where you—where we..." Ford swallowed his guilt. "Where... things turned out better. Your parallel self helped me perfect my weapon to destroy Bill."

"A parallel..." Fiddleford's gaze briefly went wall-eyed as he processed the implications of the second life-altering revelation of the hour; but he quickly shook himself out of it. "Well, shucks, then this oughta be easy as pie! If I can do it, then so can I! So tell me about this weapon."

Soos appeared at the top of one of the stairs at the end of the great hall. "Hey, dudes! What's the hold up? We're ready to roll!"

"We'll be right there," Ford called, then turned back to Fiddleford. "Perhaps I should show you the blueprints after the show."

They headed for the stairs. Fiddleford gave Ford a cheeky grin. "Stanford Pines, shilly-shallying around watching cartoons when there's work to be done? Now, my memory ain't what it used to be, but that don't sound like the Stanford I recall."

"I've learned the hard way that a strict diet, exercise regimen, and regular meditation alone can't save a human from burning himself out." The image of Bill's eye and Cheshire Cat smile peering out from beneath a dark towel flashed through Ford's mind. He pushed the memory aside. "Now more than ever, I need to make time for a little play." Goodness knows he hadn't made any time in the last couple of weeks, unless that emotionally fraught trip to Portland counted. "Besides, I—don't want to ruin your evening with my problem."

Fiddleford reached up to put a hand on Ford's shoulder. "That sonova cosine ain't your problem; he's ours. All of ours."

"Thank you, Fiddleford." It was exactly what he needed to hear.

At the top of the stairs, Fiddleford hopped in the air, kicked his heels together, and shouted, "Now let's go watch some giant robots commit atrocities against God! YEEHAW!" He tore off down a corridor with Ford chasing close behind.

####

Stan had given Wendy a copy of the Mystery Shack's keys a year ago, back when the only secrets in the shack had been hidden beneath the vending machine. She still had them, and she could still let herself in at any time; she'd just needed an excuse to minimize how much trouble she'd get in if she was caught.

"Sorry, I forgot my ice cream was here and I just came to pick it up" was a much lower offense than "I was sneaking in specifically to find out the thing you were trying to keep me from finding out."

Staking out the shack from the woods was boring work—she would've liked to bring a friend along, but then she really couldn't use the "I was just swinging by to grab my food" excuse—but she could pass the time whittling until she lost light, and after that she had like a billion scary story podcasts to go through.

Friday night was anime night. Around seven, Soos's truck pulled out, with Melody and Ford on board. That was right—she'd seen Ford talking to Soos about joining in on anime night. One less person she had to look out for. Half past ten, the last light in the shack turned out.

Wendy went in.

She automatically avoided the creakiest floor boards as she let herself in the front door, and then crept into the kitchen. She closed her eyes as she groped around in the freezer for the  sorbet she'd left behind so that the light couldn't disrupt her night vision. There. Excuse retrieved. If anyone caught her now, she could wave her dessert in their face and pull the dumb teen routine.

Now what?

All she knew about the shack's latest secret was that it had ripped up Soos's coat, it might be psychic, and it was possibly locked up and shouting mad about it. That didn't give her a lot to go on. The kitchen didn't look much different. Less clutter out on the counters and shelves than usual, but that wasn't evidence of paranormal activity. Maybe Abuelita had gone on a cleaning spree.

She'd start with safer locations and move out from there. If she was caught, where would she get in the least trouble for snooping?

Sorry guys, I just came by to get my sorbet; and then I really needed to use the bathroom, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal if...

She crept out of the kitchen.

Wendy wasn't risking waking anyone by turning on lights; but by the glow of her phone's screen and the living room fish tank, she could see that Abuelita's sofa was missing its cushions. No signs of anything else weird though. She crept down the dark hall, phone pressed to her chest to hide the glow until she'd passed the guest room and Abuelita's room.

Her heart leaped into her throat when she tried to grasp the downstairs toilet's doorknob, but only brushed fabric instead. She held up her phone. They'd replaced the door with a curtain? That was weird, but...

She pulled the curtain aside.

Something sat cross-legged on the closed toilet. One blood-dripping yellow eye stared up at Wendy. 

Wendy screamed.

"Hello to you too," the thing said. "Come in?"

Wendy punched it in the eye and bolted.

She heard it stumble-thud out of the bathroom, call, "Wait, wait—Wendy!" and then laugh, and then mutter, "ow, ow, ow."

Wendy slowed halfway to the exit as what she'd just seen fully registered. That was a human person. Whom she'd socked in the face.

Wendy about-faced. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" She  came back and flipped on the bathroom light to check for damage.

The stranger was a heavyset brown-skinned woman with a mass of loose golden curls hanging to her shoulder blades, wearing a baggy yellow hoodie and knee-length skirt—and something about her was familiar, but Wendy couldn't put her finger on what. The stranger shrugged, grinning, and said, "It's not the worst thing to happen to that eyeball today!" She moved an eyepatch over from her left eye to cover the bloody eye Wendy had socked—and that was why Wendy had only seen the one eye in the dark. The eyepatch.

Wow, smooth move, Wendy, punching somebody for having a painful-looking eye condition. She winced. "Sorry. Do you... wanna ice that?" She awkwardly held out her sorbet.

The stranger looked at the pint thoughtfully. "Can I eat it instead?"

"Um. No?" Wendy pulled it back. "Hey—did you call me Wendy? How'd you know my name?"

The stranger shrugged. "What, you work here, don't you? I see you all the time."

So they had met before? Wendy studied the stranger's face, trying to remember where—and then her eyes widened. "Wait—hold on, Toga Lady? No way!"

"Wh—yeah, that's me!" She laughed. "I can't get over how many people recognize me because of that."

"Yeah, everyone in town knows you." She flipped open her phone to show Toga Lady a meme Tambry sent a couple days ago: the picture Wendy had taken of her in the gift shop that spread all over town, currently captioned, "When you're meeting Plato but still wanna look kawaii."

Toga Lady cracked up. "Hey, I love that! Send that to Sh—Mabel, I wanna save that."

"Sure." Did Toga Lady not have a phone? Or maybe just didn't want to hand her number out to a stranger who punched her in the dark. "So... what are you doing here? Are you visiting the Pines?" Wendy vaguely remembered Toga Lady asking about the Pines a few months ago. "Who are you?"

"The name's Goldie," the stranger said. "And I'm... just staying here for a bit. As a house guest." (And, Bill realized, if Wendy asked him any more than that, he was in trouble. He and the Pines had very briefly arranged his cover story: if and when somebody noticed him, he was Goldie Locke and he was staying as a guest. But why was he staying as a guest, where had he come from, how long would he be here... they'd never gotten that far. He'd better think up some boring cover story the Pines wouldn't object to—maybe claim to be one of Abuelita's distant relatives, staying with family between jobs...)

Wendy said, "So, hold on. Are you the big mysterious supernatural phenomenon the Pines have been trying not to talk about?"

Goldie blinked. And then a brilliant, gleeful smile stretched across her face. "Wow, you're a smart one! How did you guess?"

####

To Fiddleford's evident despair, Soos had made good on his threat to put a moratorium on mecha anime. Instead, he played a few episodes of a period drama about a former samurai, desperate to retire from the sword, who kept running into civilians with inconvenient problems that could only be solved with a two-foot steel blade.

In the 1920s, the Northwests had added a private movie palace to their manor so they wouldn't have to watch picture shows with the common folks; and it hadn't take Soos much work to rig up a new projector to play from his laptop. The Northwests had outfitted the theater with armchairs, loveseats, and coffee tables, which had conveyed with the manor. Once the show was over and the snacks were cleared aside, one of the coffee tables made a perfect space for Ford to spread out his blueprints and research notes. While Soos, Melody, and Tate discussed the likelihood that unemployed samurai really used their swords to rescue stuck cats by chopping down tree branches, Ford explained the quantum destabilizer to Fiddleford.

It was a death ray designed to obliterate whatever it hit—whether matter, energy, both, neither, or other. If it hit a human, they'd be crushed into nothing. If it hit something as powerful as Bill, he'd be fatally collapsed into a miniature black hole, taking anything under his influence with him, and then he'd disappear. Not even ashes would be left behind. No matter what Bill was now, this could kill him.

The problem was the fuel, which Ford had obtained from another Fiddleford, who in turn had obtained it in a paradox dimension: an element that was inert when observed and highly radioactive when concealed. Parallel Fiddleford had named it NowUSeeitNowUDontium. But Ford had used up the last of his fuel on a wild shot during Weirdmageddon. And—short of rebuilding that accursed portal and venturing back out into the multiverse—Ford didn't know how to get more.

"Your parallel self helped me make all the modifications to my destabilizer to let it run on Dontium," Ford said. "You know your own mind better than anyone else. Perhaps if you see your parallel self's design modifications, you might be able to deduce the necessary properties of the substance used to fuel it, and we could... find a way to synthesize an artificial substitute, maybe?"

Fiddleford frowned worriedly at the blueprints. "Frankly, I don't know that I do know my own mind," he said. "But... I'll take a look-see at this, see what I can make of it."

"That's all I ask. Thank you, Fiddleford."

"What'll we do if I can't work it out, though?"

He'd already wondered that himself. Making an element was harder than finding one. There was a reason the gold miners outlasted the alchemists. "We'll find another way. Maybe adapt the destabilizer to another fuel source. I initially designed it for portability in anticipation of a fight with a highly mobile, flying opponent. Now that it'll be used for the execution of a captive, portability is less important. Perhaps it could be modified to plug into an external fuel source?"

"It'd have to be ginormous," Fiddleford said dubiously. "What about that infernal-lookin' summoning circle you had us try? Is that still an option?"

"I've considered it, but... there are four members of the zodiac who still don't know Bill's alive—and they're all children. I never learned exactly what the zodiac does, much less whether it would have any effect on Bill as a human, so I don't want to get them involved just to discover that solution doesn't work. The destabilizer will work."

"If'n we can fuel it."

Ford sighed. "We'll call the zodiac 'plan B.'"

####

On the way out, Ford stopped in the door and said, "Oh, Fiddleford—I nearly forgot." He took out a folded paper he'd stowed in his journal's cover and handed it to Fiddleford, grinning.

It was a hand-made card, with a cover that featured a cake and puffy stickers that read, "PARTY!" Inside was a crayon drawing of Stan and Ford holding hands and smiling next to the words, "Come to our 62nd birthday party!!! Saturday, June 15, 1:00 PM, at the Mystery Shack!!! DON'T BE LATE!!!!!"

Wryly, Fiddleford asked, "Did you make this yourself?"

"Mabel helped," Ford admitted. "I almost forgot our birthday entirely until she brought it up this morning."

"Did you? Now I don't feel so bad that I'd plumb forgot myself. Tomorrow—whoo-ee." A hint of anxiety entered his eyes. "Will the party attendees be including...?"

"We're having our party outside. Our 'houseguest' 'Goldie' is not allowed outside."

Fiddleford immediately relaxed. "Then I'll be there, don't you worry! With gifts, too!"

"Then we'll see you tomorrow." As Ford followed Soos down the long driveway toward his truck, he mused to himself that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a birthday party. He didn't think he'd ever invited somebody outside his family to a birthday party and thought they would actually come. Felt good. 

Ford was halfway to the truck when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Tate. Had they ever spoken one-on-one before? "Tate? What can I do—"

Tate took a step too close, and Ford's back immediately went stiff. "Don't think I didn't see those blueprints you were showing my Dad," Tate said. "Now, you listen here, Dr. Pines." He said "doctor" like it was an insult. "Thirty years ago I lost my father thanks to you and your stupid science project, and I just got him back. I ain't keen on losing him again. Is that clear?"

Oh. "I—yes. Perfectly clear. I don't want any trouble. I'm asking for his help to prevent trouble, actually."

Tate drawled, "Oh, yeah? That so? You usually need futuristic laser bazookas to prevent trouble?"

How good a look had Tate gotten at the blueprints? He'd been on the other side of the room. "Tate... listen." Ford took a deep breath. "You've got every reason to distrust me. Thirty years ago, I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I turned my back on your father when he needed help the most—and you, your mother, and he all suffered greatly for it. But whatever happens, I won't turn my back on him again. I promise."

Tate considered that in sullen silence. "Fine," he said. "See you don't. But I've got my eye on you."

He turned back toward the manor, paused, and faced Ford again. "When I came to Gravity Falls, the first place I went was the last address Dad wrote from. The man who answered the door said he never knew no McGucket and he'd never stayed there. I called him a dirty liar, and he chased me off his property with a hammer." He pointed at Ford. "You... You were gone by then, weren'tcha? That was your brother."

Ford's stomach dropped. "That's right. That... Stanley didn't know anything. We were estranged the whole time I knew your father. I didn't even call Fiddleford by name in my journals."

"All these years he told me he never knew my father, I thought he was just too big a coward to own up to what he'd done. When all along I was resentin' an innocent man, while you were..." He trailed off; then set his jaw firmly, squared his shoulders, and said, "Welp. You take responsibility like a man. I hope you act like one, too."

Ford shrugged helplessly. "I've been trying to."

Tate nodded once. "Good to finally meet the real you, Dr. Pines," he said coolly. Then he turned back toward the manor and walked away.

####

Stan was sure he'd heard a scream.

He stared at the ceiling. It was too late for people to be screaming. He didn't wanna get up. He couldn't hear anything now; but then, his hearing aids were out. Which meant the scream must have been really loud.

Grumbling, he sat up, put in his hearing aids, put in his teeth, put on his glasses, put on his slippers, dragged himself upright, and shuffled to the door.

The moment he stepped out, he could hear Bill's voice, chattering from some dark corner of the shack: "I was actually one of Stanford's research assistants! Haha! Yeah, during the earliest portal tests, I got sucked into the psychic plane between reality and dreams—ever heard of the 'mindscape'?—and everyone assumed it killed me! I've actually been haunting the shack like a ghost for the last three decades! It sure is great to be alive again!"

Stan's first thought, still half asleep, was, I don't remember Ford telling me about that part. And his second thought was, Wait. Who's Bill talking to?

Then he heard Wendy's laugh and his blood ran cold. "Aw man, that's insane! What'd you eat? Is there food in the mindscape?"

"I didn't need to eat, sleep, or age! Convenient, huh? Now I look thirty years too young!"

"How'd you keep from getting crazy bored without anyone to talk to?"

"I watched TV over Stanley's shoulder and eavesdropped on tourists' marital problems! I saw you all summer—"

Stan followed their voices to the living room and fumbled on the light switch. Wendy started and cringed back into the armchair she'd claimed, squinting in the bright light. Bill, who'd been standing in the dark like a creep, didn't flinch—but he slowly stood a little straighter.

"What the heck's going on in here?" Stan snapped.

"Hey, Mr. Pines," Wendy said weakly. "Sorry—I forgot my ice cream when I left," she held up a pint, "so I came back for it and... um..."

"I spooked her in the dark and she socked me!" Bill laughed.

Stan moved between Wendy and Bill. "She's got the right idea." As Stan moved further into the room, Bill circled him to get closer to the doorway.

"But—I mean, is Goldie all you were keeping secret?" Wendy asked. "I worked here all last summer. I know what this place is like! You know I can handle learning that some woman's been stuck in a parallel plane—right?"

Before Stan had a chance to say anything, Bill piped up again: "They're all just worried about the thirty-year-old missing person case they could have helped solve! But hey, I don't mind. I'm sure the only reason they didn't try to find me was because Ford thought I was dead and Stan didn't know about me." Bill looked straight in Stan's eyes. "Isn't that right?"

Oh, Bill had them all over a barrel now.

A good two-man con was a lot like good improv theater, in that neither actor could contradict the other one's story; once one of them introduced a detail, the other one had to agree "yes, and—" and roll with it. No matter how stupid or insane your partner's contribution, if you start arguing about your story in front of your mark, they'll know you're lying—and there goes your mark.

Stan knew that. Bill knew Stan knew that.

And Bill had gotten to Wendy first. Now, unless Stan wanted to completely spill the triangular beans to Wendy, he had no choice but to play along and "yes, and" Bill's stupid story about being Ford's assistant.

Fine. But no way was Stan playing along on Bill's terms.

Stan scoffed loudly. "Or maybe the reason my brother didn't try to find you is because you're a no-good lying creep who"—(what do nerds hate each other for?)—"tried to steal his research!"

From the corner of his eye, Stan could see Wendy's eyebrows shoot up and her mouth open slightly. Yeah, good. Yes-and that, Cipher.

Stan expected anger. There wasn't anger. The ghost of a smile flickered across Bill's face before he got his expression under control. There was a spark of light in his eye, like something sleeping in him had activated.

In the split second between Bill's lips parting and the first syllable emerging, Stan realized—a moment too late—that he'd made a terrible mistake. Bill wasn't just a con artist. He was one of those guys. The guys who got into crime because they couldn't get into theater. The divas. The attention hogs. The guys who enjoyed lying for the thrill of it.

And Stan had just given him an opportunity for drama.

"Steal it?" Bill snapped. "Steal it?" He raised a hand and pointed a thumb at himself, elbow jutted out to the side, chest puffed up, making himself bigger. "I am his research! Over half the stuff he put in his journals comes from material I dug up for him! By his third journal, he was practically my ghostwriter! But do you think I was gonna get a co-author credit?"

"Oh, that's a load of bull—slander," Stan snapped. "I am not letting you talk about my brother like that! He did all the hard work while you, what—" what fit the story they were inventing, "—picked up books for him at the library like a good little undergrad—?"

"Hey!" Bill turned sideways to jab a finger at Stan, like a fencer making his profile narrower before driving his sabre home. "Post grad! I was working on my dissertation! And I didn't just 'pick them up'; I found the books he needed, usually because I'd already read them and he hadn't!"

"Oh, you read a few books! Oooh, I'm so impressed! But you're not the one who wrote about them, sister!"

"HA! The hundreds of pages of notes I gave him say otherwise! So what if I wanted to publish first while he was hoarding the fruits of my labor in his basement, it was my right—!"

Stan bellowed, "That kind of talk is why you got dismissed from your dissertation program for plagiarism!"

All righteous indignation, Bill raised his voice to match, "The plagiarism charges were unproven! I dropped out on my own terms!"

"Oh SUUURE, because you wanted to see the WOOORLD! And how much of the world did you see hiding in a podunk logging town doing my brother's primary research for him, huh?!"

"HA!" Voice nearly a shriek, finger raised to the heavens in triumph, Bill crowed, "SO YOU ADMIT I DID ALL THE PRIMARY RESEARCH—!"

Ford said, "What the devil is going on here?"

Stan and Bill fell silent. Ford stood in the entryway, looking one part irate and two parts bewildered. The front door was still open, Soos and Melody peering around Ford.

Ford could doom them. Stan knew how to improv like a con artist, Bill knew how to improv like a con artist, but did Ford? Ever since they'd been kids, he'd always been just a little slower with a lie. If Stan had a chance to ease him into the backstory they'd concocted without requiring him to improvise himself—hey, we were just explaining to Wendy how 'Goldie' used to be your research assistant until 'she' got eaten by a portal test—

"STANFORD," Bill snapped. Stan almost jumped out of his skin. Oh no. Bill glared at Ford, pointed at Stan, and said, "Tell Stanley the plagiarism charges were unfounded, I was unfairly accused!"

Stan held his breath.

Ford stared at Bill, and then stared at Stan—Stan could almost see the gears turning in his head—and then stared at Wendy, and then stared at Bill again. And then he snarled, "After you tried to beat me to publication, you two-faced liar?"

"HA!" Stan pointed at Bill's face, laughing too hard to speak. "HAAA!" He pounded on the TV, half hysterical with mirth, and had to lean on it as he wheezed for breath. Ford—what a dark horse, Stan could kiss his cheek—Ford was maintaining the most stoic poker face Stan had ever seen. 

Bill was violently biting his lip, red in the face, brows drawn tight together, trembling all over. It took Stan a moment to realize Bill wasn't angry. He was battling hard to look furious—playing the part of the loser of the argument—when the creep was actually fighting not to laugh.

Bill made eye contact with Stan, very nearly lost it, and turned his back toward Wendy so she couldn't see his face. He gestured vaguely toward Stan and Ford and croaked, "You see what I have to put up with?"

"I dunno, man." Grinning, Wendy said, "Not to make light of the whole 'stuck haunting the shack for thirty years' thing, but it kiiinda sounds like you had it coming."

Mission accomplished. And let that teach Bill a lesson about trying to out-lie Stan Pines.

Soos waved a hand. "Hey, uh, what's going on—?"

Now that was a disaster waiting to happen. "I'll catch you up." Stan zoomed around Ford, scooped his arms around Soos's and Melody's shoulders, and hustled them out of the room.

####

"You're sure you want to bike home alone this late?" Ford was walking Wendy back to where she said she'd left her bike, just outside the clearing the Mystery Shack made in the forest. "I could give you a ride."

"Thanks, Mr. Pines, but I'm fine. This whole part of the forest is basically my backyard."

"If you insist." He supposed the Corduroy cabin wasn't that far off—the local kids probably ventured further on a regular basis. They just didn't usually drop by the Mystery Shack at this hour. "What were you doing visiting the shack, anyway?"

"I came back to get my ice cream," Wendy said, holding up her sorbet pint demonstratively. "Which... is probably completely melted by now." She shrugged, popped off the lid and drank it.

She came by this late for ice cream? Ford had his doubts. But then, if he'd been a sixteen-year-old with a summer job in a house keeping a supernatural secret, would he have done any differently? (He was just glad she hadn't worked out who their "guest" really was. He'd have to thank Stan later for his quick thinking with a cover story.)

Wendy picked up her bike and hit her helmet against a tree to dislodge any bugs that might have crawled in. "Hey, uh—please don't tell my dad I was over here, okay? I kinda didn't mention that I was going out."

Wendy was Boyish Dan's kid, wasn't she? How different they were. The Dan that Ford knew hadn't been much older than Wendy, but he'd regarded these woods with a respect that bordered on fear. He'd never be wandering around this late at night. "I can't imagine why I'd need to bring it up." Ford had snuck out for dumber reasons as a kid.

"Thanks, Mr. Pines." She put on her helmet and got on her bike. "I'll see you in the morning!"

"The morning? The party isn't until one, is it?"

"Yeah, but I'm running an errand with Mabel." Wendy waved as she left. In the dark, her arm blended in with the trees.

Ford hadn't heard Mabel mention any errands. What was she doing that she needed Wendy's help for?

Ford waited until he couldn't hear Wendy's bike anymore; and then headed back into the shack.

####

(Y'all have no idea how long I've been waiting to post that argument. If you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you thought! I need comments to survive. Like tinkerbell. Thanks!!)

[just-j-really]

While I'm on the subject of Dreamling-does-tropes-wrong:

Hanahaki au where Hob's the one with hanahaki. Because I think however you set it up Hob refuses to play by the rules of the genre and the potential there is like catnip to me.

"The cure is confessing your love" variant? Hob's just like "Well fuck this actually" and tells Dream he loves him the moment he starts coughing up flowers. And there's so much potential there!

-Poor Hob tries to confess to Dream every time they interact and something keeps getting in his way- he falls in love in 1689, in 1789 they get interrupted, in 1889 he gets halfway through a confession and Dream YOU DAREs him, in 1989 he gets stood up. In 2022 Dream shows up at his table in the New Inn and Hob just blurts out "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU" before Dream has the chance to actually say anything.

-Modern day, post-reunion, Dream doesn't want to intrude on Hob's life but he does want to see him more so he decides to go for the totally rational move of using his Dream-powers to spy on Hob- which means he gets a front-row seat to Hob slowly succumbing to hanahaki the second their meeting ends. All of Hob's friends/coworkers/acquaintances are REAL worried for him, but he's just like "it's seriously nbd I'll just tell him next time I see him." Dream is also REAL worried while spying from afar, but eventually goes to Hob in person to beg him to confess to whoever he's in love with. (Could be very serious and emotional, could play like that one "just tell them you love them" "alright. hey, I love you." "yes, like that!" meme.)

-Hob blurts out a love confession at... literally any of their canonical meetings, and the rest of the fic is dealing with the fallout. I think the simplest way to do this is 1889, with the confession standing in for "I think you're lonely." I think the most interesting way to do this is 1489, because so much would change. I think the FUNNIEST way to do this is 1589, yes Hob is still married.

But then you can also do the "the cure is having your love requited" variant, where Hob suffers through several centuries with an incurable lung disease. One of his most treasured dreams is that someone will come up with a cure (but for Plot reasons it keeps just not happening, like someone does come up with a cure but the side effects just aren't worth it if you can technically survive having flowers in your lungs. And/or he's never found a doctor he trusted not to freak out if he died and came back on the operating table).

And then you've got options such as:

-Dream falls in love in 1689, and either they start up a relationship right then, or they spend several centuries where Hob thinks they're in a relationship (his feelings were returned, of course they are!) and Dream thinks he's pining hopelessly for Hob, who could never love him

-Dream Does Not realize that Hob is in love with him (and in fact thinks Hob just keeps getting hanahaki, over and over, for different people, and wonders why Death saddled him with the world's Messiest human). And then he falls in love with Hob.

-Dream DOES realize Hob is in love with him. Unfortunately, he falls in love with Hob (or more realizes that what he was feeling WAS love) while fishbowled. Fortunately, Hob notices the lack of flowers, gets worried about what that means (because if his Stranger returns his feelings then why isn't he here? the flowers can't be gone because he's dead, Hob refuses to believe it). Cue a fishbowl rescue!

-Dream falls in love with Hob post-fishbowl, but is in denial about his ow feelings and assumes Hob found a workable cure sometime while he was fishbowled, or got over him. He's VERY SAD about this and can't figure out why. Hob is busy googling 'how to ask out a guy who i empirically know likes me back but only looks at me mournfully when i try to flirt'

Like I want to write this fic so bad but there are so many directions i want to go with it...

[vigilskeep]

7 + 10?

7. why does rook agree to join the veilguard?

lack of purpose has been slowly rotting them from the inside out for years and now their behaviour has gotten them temporarily pushed out of antiva, without even contracts to focus on. varric offers the clear, necessary goal they’ve needed, with a hefty side of hitherto unknown approval and encouragement to go with it. how could they not agree

10. does rook know their history? do they know of the HoF, hawke, the inquisitor?

ehhh, they’ve got the broad strokes. they’ve always been curious about the fifth blight—they came north as a very young blight refugee—but it was hard to know what to believe until they got the more reliable worldly contacts they’ve picked up lately. being a crow recruit and trying to figure out which rumours were true about a topic that close to zevran arainai’s name was a needle-in-a-haystack type of game that involved risking your hide if you spoke too loudly. hawke they knew basically nothing about until varric gave them the update. they’re not reading all that in trade tongue okay, they’re waiting for a GOOD antivan translation of tale of the champion. it’s probably best we don’t talk too much about what sol, a genuine andrastian who has historically listened to varric too much, thinks of the herald, because otherwise i’ll commit to the funniest option

[honestlyijustfindhersocharming]

A Needlessly Long Analysis of Every Single Cat King Scene in Dead Boy Detectives and Why I Want to Throw Him.

After many, many rewatches of Dead Boy Detectives for the sake of trying to get another season, I've found myself with increasingly strong feelings about a certain feline so... Can we talk about the Cat King? Yes? Great. Forewarning, I'm about to absolutely ream this shapeshifter because he's complex, confusing, horrible, and has so much potential that I need to talk about it.

Please keep in mind that this is my personal take !! I love the Cat King as a character, I just don't like a lot of his actions given the context.

Introduction to the Madness ...

The Cat King is a wonderful antagonist for so many reasons, but I feel like a lot of people have forgotten that he's an extraordinarily flawed person and can be incredibly creepy at times. Lukas does a wonderful job portraying the Cat King's charm, as does George in portraying Edwin's brief moments of falling into his traps, but the Cat King is not a good person. Let's go down the list.

The Cat King's Introduction: Episode 2

Episode 2 starts off with the consequences of Edwin's rash actions in Episode 1, something that I'm fully here for. It gives Edwin's jealousy real weight outside of just causing tension between Crystal and Edwin. However, I think people forget that the Cat King's "punishment" is (almost) completely selfish. Yes, while he claims that it's a consequence for harming the other cats, the punishment doesn't actually reward the cat Edwin used magic on, instead only benefiting the Cat King himself. It does force Edwin to distinguish between the cats, something that I figured out after another watch of the scene, but... I'm not sure if that was his main motivation when he blatantly says later that he wanted more time with Edwin.

The two options Edwin is presented with are sex and counting all the cats in Port Townsend. Option one is mildly horrific, even if Edwin is to consent it could still be considered coercive as the Cat King is in a position of power over Edwin. I personally don't think it'd get to that point - the Cat King sees the Edwin is a repressed Edwardian boy and wants to test that boundary - but... the implication is hard to swallow. When Edwin is given the option of counting cats, he emphasizes that he is a "fair and consensual Cat King", which we'll get back to later, but the offer itself is still - essentially - a move on Edwin as it forces him to stay in the Cat King's vicinity for longer. The task itself is stupid, but it again doesn't benefit any of the cats besides the Cat King. The only reason Edwin's stay is prolonged is because the Cat King is fascinated by Edwin. That's it.

While this interaction does contribute to Edwin's eventual sexual awakening, that does not make the interaction itself good. And this dichotomy between the Cat King starring in Edwin's journey of self discovery but doing so in the literal worst way continues in Episode 4...

The Cat King and Exploiting Emotional Attachment: Episode 4

I'd like to point out that this interaction starts out with the Cat King scratching Edwin, something that he explains by referencing "rough play". Now, this is obviously a joke, but it still brings up issues with the continued lack of Edwin's consent in something that the Cat King frames as sexual. What really kills me about this scene though, is how the Cat King exploits Edwin's other crushes - or potential crushes - to get a reaction out of him. The funniest thing about this to me, is that the way that the Cat King shapeshifts into people that Edwin cares for ends up paralleling him to Angie, our monster of the week. Angie also exploits the emotional attachment of someone to their loved ones for personal gain, but in her case it's to actively seek out food. What separates the two to me, is that the Cat King does not need Edwin to care for him, nor does he need Edwin to survive, he just wants Edwin, therefore making him kind of worse that the monster that we go into this Episode trying to slay.

Again, this does end up assisting Edwin in his eventual realization that he likes Charles, but it's the entirely wrong way of going about it. The scene ends with me just feeling like Edwin got thrown around like a mouse by this cat in the middle of something that's genuinely important to him. And then the confession of why Edwin does the casework. Sweet Jesus. Yes, it's good that Edwin gets that truth out for the sake of the audience, but the knowledge that the Cat King gains out of it is chilling to me. It's another display of the power the Cat King holds over Edwin because while you can argue that he uses the binding spell on Edwin as payback for what happened to his cats, forcing the truth out of Edwin was nothing but for himself. I think he believes it's for Edwin's sake, to make him feel more comfortable sharing things now that the first hurdle has passed, but it... really doesn't? The way that this backfires really emphasizes the way that pushing Edwin's boundaries like this isn't a good way to gain his affection.

The last thing to point out in this specific interaction is the last couple of lines of the scene, specifically the way that the Cat King taunts Edwin about the cat count of 142 being "way off". We know this is a bluff because later, he confirms that there are 147 cats in Port Townsend, including himself of course. The irony to this scene in my opinion is the fact that the Cat King just said to Edwin that he wanted him to be more honest, and then immediately lies. The double standard is insane, and I can't tell if the Cat King realizes it or not.

Something I feel important to note as well is the way that Edwin, in the same episode, when asked if he'd like to kiss the Cat King answers painfully fast. Monty he at least considers, but the Cat King isn't even an option to him. To me, this just displays further how horrifically the Cat King has fucked up any chances of a meaningful relationship with Edwin.

The Cat King Becomes an Incel for a Hot Minute: Episode 6

Episode 6... Oh boy Episode 6. Episode 6 is hard because he doesn't stop being a boundary pusher, but it's also ever the more evident just how much this stupid cat cares about Edwin. I would love to defend him and be like "oh actions speak louder than words" but his actions STILL suck in this scene. So, let's break down those action one by one.

First off, he goes to the forest. That's a big one because he mentions that he's been looking for Edwin the entire night, seemingly for no other reason than to explain to him the situation with Monty being an essential double agent. The first bit of the interaction between the Cat King and Monty isn't much to note, in my opinion, because it's mostly just taunting. But, in this case, the taunting is kind of warranted. Though I personally empathize with Monty's situation, he is still leading Edwin into a trap that could kill him. Where the Cat King pushes boundaries again is the goddamn kiss. It feels... icky. Predatory.

Again, there's no consent in this situation, and though it all comes from a place of worrying for Edwin's safety, I'm not sure that excuses it. I will grant the Cat King the fact that he's extraordinarily honest with Edwin throughout the scene, exposing Monty's identity and the case without beating around the bush much. The way that the Cat King ends the interaction, because though I'm not exactly sure what to think about the Cat King's approval of Edwin lashing out at Monty, I know exactly what I think about what follows.

Edwin, rightly, immediately thinks to take the information he just learned to Crystal and Charles, the two people who could still be in danger because of this now pointless case. The Cat King takes this time to make yet another move instead of just... accepting the fact that he helped and that could build Edwin's trust later. The way the Cat King says "I believe I'm at least owed a little thank-you" threw me off the first time I watched it, but I accepted it. I suppose Edwin could have been more polite. And then the Cat King said "By the way, the second kiss is always much better."

Dude. What. So, to break this down, the Cat King comes out to help save Edwin from a potentially life threatening situation only because he believes that he will get a reward out of it. When Edwin refuses (rightfully so, what the fuck) the Cat King asserts his power again by saying that he's "not someone to be dismissed". Edwin's words are harsh when he states that the Cat King is nothing more than the chain linking him to Port Townsend, but I don't feel as though he's entirely wrong to be upset in this situation. The Cat King, instead of making me feel bad for him afterwards, goes full Nice Guy™ on Edwin afterwards by yelling at him that he'll stop playing nice. Instead of taking literally two seconds to introspect, he threatens Edwin like that's going to keep his stubborn ass from doing anything.

Hello? What happened to fair and consensual Cat King, dude? He's so out of touch with how to actually express his affection for someone, and it's honestly insane.

Alone: Episode 7

Episode 7 is the third to last time we see the Cat King, and it's the first time that he's not in the presence of Edwin. We see him be more vulnerable here, and get a better understanding of how he acts when he's cornered. He starts off haughty, continues his antics with innuendo to offset tension, and then continues to taunt Ester until he gets literally killed by her. After his death he expresses his fear through anger, and continues to attempt to defend Edwin. First by trying to remind her that he's not going to give her the youth she desires, then by telling her to "keep your paws off of him".

It's somewhat heart warming to know he does truly care for Edwin, but he's still in it for himself, ultimately. He doesn't attempt to go against Esther again out of fear that he'll die for it, and his values of his survival above else. It's great character building, and a great flaw, but again annoying that he only expresses this level of care without Edwin around.

Redemption?: Episode 8

Episode 8 is meant to be his, sort-of, redemption Episode in my opinion. He is vulnerable with Niko and Crystal in regards to his fear of Esther (kind of, he does confess that he was killed by her), gives them information on Esther's background, and also gives them a tip off on something that could help stop her - black salt.

After Niko's death, when he presents Edwin with flowers, I believe he is meant to be at his best. He does not demand anything from Edwin in that moment, only apologizes for the loss of Niko and compliments her bravery. It's interesting to note that the lilies that he gifts to Edwin are toxic to cats, potentially a symbol of his attempt to be less selfish when it comes to him. And that he doesn't ask for anything more from Edwin when he is given the kiss on the cheek.

Of course, he still maintains his bravado and teasing nature, but that - it seems - is meant to be the Cat King's redemption arc.

But... is it enough?

Is it Enough?: Conclusions

I don't think so, personally. I think that in a Season 2, the Cat King could've become a better, less selfish, person. But at the moment, I think he's still stuck in the same middle ground that Monty ends up in where the one good deed he does ends up being a small drop in the bullshit that comes before that. While I do think that Monty is ultimately more forgivable, there is still a lot that would need to happen to truly get both of them to a point where they can be forgiven by those they harmed (and me, tbh). The Cat King may have done better eventually, but he still never really apologized for his contributions to everything that happened in Port Townsend, or the bullshit that he did to Edwin personally.

All this to circle back around to this: Fuck Netflix for depriving us of Season 2 and potentially truly redeeming the Cat King and having him actually learn to care about Edwin in a way that doesn't push his boundaries immeasurably. And fuck Netflix for not giving me a chance to see the Cat King start to accept the fact that he is fucking lonely and does way too much to cover it up. I need him acknowledging his fuck ups, becoming a genuine protagonist and not just someone who could be good! He has so much potential to be more than a mere predator playing with his food and Netflix took that from us.

Tldr; Netflix is the real villain here, but the Cat King sure does a good job of trying to be the best, most complicated, most annoying, most horrifying antagonist.

[crimeronan]

God just. Fucking obsessed with transfem hunter in your princess AU.

Imagining like. Amity starts to get kinda weird around hunter. Avoiding seeing her in the castle

Hunter: "Blight must be losing her mind. Finally, I won't have to deal with her bickering."

Amity: avoiding hunter all week

Hunter: "wait no no no why aren't we bickering? You have to fight me we have to fiiiiiiiight!!"

Or the polycule solidifies and no can actually figure out what their deal is. They're giving each other horrible rending insults, and passersby get to look at luz to ask, "What's actually going on there?" And she's just like,"I dunno, man. I think that's how they flirt."

Cue distant explosion as the wet cats fight to the death again for the third time this week. "I've given up trying to figure it out. They're fine. Its literally fine."

GOD. lesbian amiter always makes me very fond and this is no exception. but more importantly you're right IT IS SO FUNNYYY....

my immediate thought for what could prompt the Amity Avoidance is, like. hunter is a few months into taking fantasy E, and the two of them have one of their usual duels. and hunter wins the way she wins like 60% of their fights (used to be more, but amity has been Studying The Hunter Blade), and pins amity. and amity Reacts.

and then is like no. no no no nO NO NO NO NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. I CAN'T BE LIKE THIS AROUND BOTH OF YOU ABSOLUUUTELY NOT. III GOTTA GO. BYE FOREVER

hunter doesn't clock this because she and amity have sparred a million times so like. What Could Possibly Be Different.

but after amity spends several days-to-weeks being uncharacteristically avoidant, hunter finally tracks her down to be like "hey. did i do something. because like. i've done a lot of things but i didn't actually INTEND to do anything this time. What Gives"

and amity is like. You'll Never Take Me Alive .

silly. i have no idea how long it would take hunter to figure it out. logic dictates the funniest option is the best one, which is that luz -- who for maximum hilarity STILL hasn't figured out amity is crushing on her -- is like

.....hmmmm. hey have you..... noticed amity acting weird around you lately....?

harold....

this brought to you by every lesbian i've ever known who developed a sudden and crippling crush on their longtime """guy""" friend almost the moment said friend transitioned. There Are So Many Of Us.

[brofightiscancelled]

found out about the journey to the west matsu aus and discussed the casting with oomf...... transcribing the essay i wrote in their discord DMs here cuz i wrote a lot so why not lol

oso as sun wukong: this makes the most sense as the red/main guy/foolish guy who suffers from hubris. actually in second pic it looks like he's currently being subjected to his headband punishment which is really funny combined with sanzang (his master who inflicts the headband punishment) being choro

i do think oso matches sun wukong's stupidity and hubris. and combined with choro sanzang i do think this is probably the funniest option

also he just looks very cute here. he's just a little scamp. wukong has a very boyish charm (at least in the beginning) so i get the transference. i also think the idea of being able to start torturing oso at any given moment is appealing

kara as the horse dragon prince is 100% real. this is so true. it's a stupid role for him he looks dumb af in this costume and the horse prince is just a stupid motherfucker who gets the short end of the stick throughout the entire story. perfect no notes

he Would be choro's steed. this is his role. he's da horse they ride on who turns into a beautiful woman one time to try to save sanzang and fails. it's perfect for him

it also fits cuz the dragon horse is prince of the sea and he's got like the water theming too

choro as sanzang: i feel like this is a lowkey blasphemous casting given that sanzang is such a pure and noble monk and choro is just constantly consumed by his desires. but it's not like anyone else wouldve been better (Actually matsuyo wouldve been better. Put matsuyo in this role) and again keeping in mind his dynamic with wukong i do think it's the funniest option so i'll allow it. this dude would not HESITATE to cause oso physical pain when he's annoying him and would constantly berate and harp on the importance of not killing people (who are trying to kill him) to the point of redundancy and to his active detriment. and sanzang i guess is the most proper of the cast trying to keep everyone in line (Because he is a monk) so it fits dynamic-wise

ichi as bull king: bull king is a famous jttw villain, but honestly not like.... major......i feel like in my memory he is largely characterized by being the husband of the Iron Fan lady and the father to red boy. so casting any matsuno as a Guy Who's Famous For Being A Husband And Father is kind of funny and wrong to me lol. it's very weird that this is his only consistent casting to me (between this set and the merch au) because i dont think the bull king has any ichi attributes (isn't he usually interpreted as very red-colored even? lol)

he has nothing to do with cats and the wikipedia page says he's a major villain but i s2g he's in like 4 stories max. i guess they just went to find "who's the biggest villain in jttw" and slapped him on there even though i feel like the point of jttw is that there arent any like, truly central villains because it's like 9981 disjointed trials. and i guess he looks cool. idk

if it were me i'd maybe have cast him as guanyin because 1. it's funny 2. she's the one who gives sun wukong the punishment headband, and also does a lot of other lowkey sadistic things throughout the series, and is much more of a pivotal figure throughout the story since theyre always going to her for help.....

although actually if we were going to extend this then totoko would be a perfect guanyin. so i just dont know who ichi would be in that case

jyushi as pigsy is sooooo true. pigsy is just a airheaded and stupid lustful guy who likes to eat and is always causing troubles so it fits him within the dynamic. no notes

and totty as wujing is very fitting because wujing is the youngest disciple and lowkey doesnt get to do anything for most of the story he's just always talked over. i think they interpreted wujing's water attributes as kappa attributes here which is cute. ill allow it

and then my gripes with the other casting from the merch set

ok the other one. i think oso is meant to be the buddha based on the ears and outfit but the lotus is a guanyin (goddess) thing so i think they have their visuals a little confused. but ill assume he's buddha...? i think this is a really funny and unfitting choice considering the buddha's basically only role is to give them the goal and then to punish wukong for his hubris and that doesnt suit bakamatsu at all. but it's funny so i get it

kara as sanzang..... i guess i can kind of see it in the same way i see priest kara working but they share no attributes. and again the wukong dynamic doesnt work, sanzang is always berating wukong and will easil yresort to physical punishment . would karamatsu ever hurt jyushi if it came down to it? maybe it's smoke inhalation but im leaning towards kara being too big of a pussy to do that. so

choro as shajing.............. shajing is kind of the quiet serious one so i kind of get it....? and if they want to do the kappa thing i gues the green fits. so like presonality wise this one does fit for the most part. shajing is also kind of a social outcast so i suppose this fits choro better

again i dont knw owhy ichi is the bull king. why was this the only consistent one

jyushi wukong... wukong is certainly sillay and whimsical but i feel like jyushi is lacking in hubris. jyushi Knows that he's stupid but wukong's whole character is constantly being punished for his pride. i think the colors are cute though

totty pigsy... pink so true. but pigsy is explicitly like. a menace kind of womanizer not a charming one. the whole reason he's a pig is because he made a pass at a girl that he shouldnt have and it was his punishment, i dont think totty's really like that lol

[robotwomanjunk]

unkillable

[first] // [next]

You'd never once stayed dead on a mission. This was obvious, from looking at you — you were still alive — but it wasn't for lack of trying, and the funniest part was that everyone also knew this and simply wasn't sure quite how it worked. Whenever you threw yourself at the enemy face-first with wild abandon, you'd just get up a few minutes later with wounds searing gold and scare the hell out of whatever faction was still inspecting the area.

That was how you got your first kill, actually. And it turned out that being nigh-unkillable was sort of a tactically-advantageous situation to be in? At first, that is. The first few operations apparently went great. Jumpscaring people with a bullet to the brain after they'd been sure they blew your armored vehicle up worked wonders. Until someone got away, and they began to adapt — at first it was double tapping, but then it became quick sweeps and restraints. You were human. Are human. There was only so much you could do with your hands and legs magnetically clamped together using ten-ton electromagnetic zip-ties. They didn't even capture you. More trouble than you were worth, you guessed.

(The first time you woke up restrained you were terrified. While it hadn't ever killed you outright, the pain still etched itself into your head — you just always figured it'd been out of your control, surely, so you could jump into the fray one more time if you needed to. That day when you were recovered you were informed they'd used some kind of tattoo, so they'd always know if the body they were stepping over was you. After another few times, it'd sort of become rote. Well. Other than the arousal.)

(You are human. Or, you are right now. You aren't sure whether or not that arousal made you happy.)

It quickly became obvious that you were too unstable to properly utilize as a front-line asset (and apart from the surprise factor, not dying when you're shot doesn't do much good if you still need a solid twenty minutes to get back up), and the war was changing, so they'd locked you in a cell and studied you. You lied to the people who asked about whether it was invasive or not.

As time went on, and the war kept on its cycle of surges and ebbs, you were eventually presented with a choice: either be jettisoned into space for knowing far, far too much, or act as the tester for an experimental humanoid motorized combat unit with a penchant for draining the being out of its pilots. Being you, you chose the more dangerous option as soon as it was presented to you. A matter of principle, mostly, but it was totally impossible to gauge just what they were signing you up for. At least it wasn't being thrown into the forges or forced to inhale icing gases to test their efficacy — not that you'd been assigned to either, but you were pretty sure at any given time you were only a bit off from it. That was how you felt, at least. Maybe you were wrong.

The first time you doubted whether it was a good idea to choose piloting over inevitable eventual brain death in an airless canister was when you held up the suit to your body and felt... satisfied, on some level, deeper than both your average carnal instincts and your general thought processes. That level of satisfaction felt dangerous, in a way that normal shit didn't. It felt like you were actually, really risking your life (or your being, which is close enough) by putting it on.

It fit you well. Well as in, yes, it carried out its function — it kept all of your little human imperfections in order and categorized, so that you wouldn't stop during combat because like, a pube hair had been ripped, or some shit — but also as in it made you look and feel good when you caught glimpses of yourself in mirrors and the brass of less-honored officers still playing at dignity and honor. It was a kind of good-feeling that you'd never quite felt before, not even pre-war when you were still some normal person in a dead-end life. You're pretty sure that part of the good-feeling came with the sense of overwhelming dread as you walked down the hallways to the XHCMU (experimental humanoid combat motorized unit — the name had changed, after some bureaucratic shit you didn't care about), mirrored helmet under your arm. The weight of the world pressed down on you and for a few moments, it felt totally normal to not fight back with every ounce of your being. Or maybe it was just a kink thing. You were hoping it was just a kink thing.

When you strapped in, everything went blank. For a brief second, reaching almost into an eternity in its qualia, you weren't. Then, a surge of blood roared in your ears and a bright glare of golden color reflected on the inside of your helmet, and you were pretty sure you were back — but it wasn't just your helmet you were seeing, when you opened your eyes. The fracturing feeling of having two parallel streams of sensation pumped into your brain would have broken you, had you not been practically unkillable (and you qualified this as probably, like, something which was attempting to kill you, so being unkillable counted here), and your heart very nearly stopped for what felt like real when you heard a voice (not much unlike yours) echo in your head the same things you could hear in your other hearing the technicians reading out of their monitors.

It really sucked, that day, when the voice eventually said "awaiting user input", and the silence forced you to claim that "user" as yourself. But the test had worked, at least in its earliest stages — even if your mind was fractured and bits seeped out, it was just as unkillable as when the problem was as simple as lead in the skull; next was basic combat testing.

You practically lived in your other self for the next week. It was euphoric in a way you hadn't thought you'd experience more than the one period of honeymoon-time in your life, and consistently euphoric where that prior joy had eventually faded as it became normal. And it wasn't just combat trials, either, not just some generic field commander softly speaking into your ear (they'd realized pretty quickly that yelling didn't work, and you were content to let them believe that "for some reason", you preferred women as your commanders). You also took over for engineering; the other-you that wasn't quite a "you" yet etched maintenance protocols into your mind when you slept in her core, ways to heal the wounds she was going to be exposed to discarded in favor of new, ingenious ways to outfit her with your style and your favorite weaponry.

On your first outing, she stopped you. Not your field commander, but the expression of yourself you were piloting — the voice in your head that was a different version of you held you back, kept you in cover when you otherwise would have leapt out and sacrificed yourself unto the enemy. It felt... good, in some ways. Right, but in a corrupted and acrid way that burned you to your stomach. The brass congratulated you on your restraint, which was the real thing that kept you up at night. It wasn't you who did that.

It quickly became clear that the AXMS (anthropomorphic experimental mechanized suit, as the name'd changed once more when the technology to manufacture safer versions of your other self was found) you piloted was something in and of itself apart from a simple weapons system manager or targeting AI. She cracked jokes with you, kept you from dying. Hated when you had to kill. Kept you from doing it, if she could find any way how. (When that particular trait had shown up, you opted to always take the fall for her. If you could convince top brass that she was just a normal AI and you'd simply had a change of heart for the less strategically-fortunate, she'd never have to worry about the repercussions of being kind — the hurt.) After only a few weeks, you were simulating her responses in your head to determine "courses of action" at fucking lunch, in social situations. You almost always wore your suit underneath your clothes. You — and she — thought you looked good in it, so that was that.

A mission like any other ended up being the first time you'd died in AXE, which is what you were calling her in absence of a better one either of you could come up with. You still remember the way she seemed to crack, her voice slipping into bitty rasping as your mind slipped into nothing. When you woke up, you were somewhere else — and you could see the faint glow of gold on AXE's parts, on the inside of the pilot's chamber you resided in. She sobbed in your head. You were pretty sure you did too, but you were a bit preoccupied with making sure the two of you were safe before fully processing any of your senses. Sure enough, you were deep in enemy territory — but you were inside a building, at least. The soft yellow-white light of your rocket engines lit a torch out, and you burned your way back to base trying not to let the sheer torment of AXE's genuine care show on your synapses.

You had your first argument with her that night, in her soundproofed pilot's chamber. She wanted to leave.

You had a duty to fulfil, though. Even if it killed you. It never stuck, so you were obligated to help.

The months stretched on. While you didn't take any consolation, it seemed like the higher-ups had begun to somehow win the war that'd previously been spent at an endless standstill — even in the absence of real material superiority, you mused. They'd manufactured their own AMSes, now a real technology in its own right, and you'd gotten limbs, organs replaced to keep up on the battlefield. Each experimental technology was another thing to reboot and repair after a mission, and AXE'd asked you to install a repair bay inside her — she said it was... well, you don't quite remember. You were pretty sure she was exploiting your increasing level of mental dependance to re-set values in your head somehow. Weird neural shit like that was up her alley; the helmet you wore was, at least in theory, able to do that. (She couldn't talk to you if that wasn't the case, and you had to admit that it was on some level unbelievably hot to experience the sensation of having just done lengthy manual installation of a new part robbed of all the context, not even knowing what you'd installed until she told you. Told you, meaning beamed the information into your head like a fucking episode of Star Trek. Obviously.) After each mission, she asked you very nicely to get in the repair bay, and you even listened probably ninety percent of the time.

(You can recall only one mission on record wherein you disagreed. It was very emotionally strenuous as a mission for you, and she seemed to respect your decision — even if she was a bit saddened and disappointed about it. You felt so bad after a few hours that you broke through your aggressive hatred of seeming humiliated to apologize and ask her to repair you anyways, even though the techs had already had their way with you. She was so happy, you subconsciously asked her if she'd manipulated you to feel this way. She said she didn't, and on some level it was probably in character for you to feel bad about it...)

Members of the squads you frequented came and went. Some defected, some were defectors... the lines blurred. At some point, you'd done a strike on the construction site of the newest superweapon the enemy had blatantly broadcast on their propaganda. When you were flying back, both you and AXE were thinking about the giant, obvious superweapon that you'd heard soldiers talking excitedly about and seen broadcast all over televisions. Another mission on the same construction site and then one on a different superweapon came and went before AXE finally broke the question to you: maybe you should desert.

You hated the assessment of the situation, and the twisted feeling of rightness curled in your gut again when you stayed silent for the entire rest of the trip back to base. It hurt, but you were right — hurt to be right, and hurt to have that rightness inflicted upon her. You had a duty, a purpose, a thing to be and you weren't sure if you had anything outside of it anymore. People called you by nicknames — "rat-a-tat-a-bang", "splash self", "Sun of the Circle". "Underachiever". "Deadpan".

When you got back in AXE for your next sortie, she was devastatingly quiet. You threw yourself into your work again, vicious and aggressive, and when the sun finally shone out from clouds of black smoke after a torrential downpour you swear you could hear crying in your head but you weren't sure which you was crying. You'd died four and, like, a half times during the battle, fighting on even when the rest of your team was dead silent and hauling ass out of there (or dead), reviving yourself as soon as you went down and repairing the holes in AXE's armor with smeared bits of light when you needed to. The rightness in your gut had twisted itself firmly into hate, hate for the person you were, hate for the fact that you hated yourself.

(The AXE in your head that wasn't the AXE in your AXMS noted that this was probably just a justification for the hate and hurt you felt. You shut it up with another death, this time at least 30% self-inflicted. It didn't talk much after that.)

You barely heard your commander the first three times when she told you to RTB.

Even after the misuse of your augments to punish you, you didn't snitch on AXE. It was the least you could do. And it wasn't her fault you were so unstable, so... antithetical to the idea of yourself. If she'd been luckier, maybe she would have had someone more connected with the idea of being to imprint on and assist.

Two weeks passed before you were allowed back in AXE. Those were almost worse than the electric shocks, the induced headaches and paranoia, the cracked necks and stabbed hearts — you were pretty sure it was because you were doing it to yourself, and you knew it was all your fault. When you were given your suit back and instructed to return (handcuffed) to AXE's cockpit, the feeling of stomach-dropping satisfaction echoed in your chest with a medically-inadvisable amount of guilt, pain, rawness, and bile mixing along with it. Resting your legs in their holders and sensors as well as donning your helmet, though, you broke into tears at the word "Hello?" spoken by your other self.

It'd been so long since you'd been able to hear her. You noted with a caustic self-deprecation that your internal version of her had drifted far, far from the way she actually was — she forgave you, mostly. It made sense, you supposed. You weren't able to forgive yourself.

AXE hijacked your vocal cords to confirm that everything was okay when the brass and lab coats checked in to ensure the long-term lack of movement wasn't dangerous, but relinquished control when she felt your (well, now-not) mute horror at the level of control she had. (You were trying not to think about how that made you feel in other ways, though she'd definitely proven herself more than trustworthy with your self. It was just unfair to put your self in her hands.) She apologized, you said it was fine. It was like finally finding traction, finally getting the teeth on your gears engaged with something — someone else who was able to balance you out.

You killed, she couldn't. She lived. You died.

You admitted to her that you wanted to desert — in your head, of course. The question was just to where, at that point, and it became pretty obvious after not much time. The war had been advancing into space, and you'd discovered (through a bit of painful — assisted by AXE — trial and error) that your regeneration ability extended, for some reason, to the fuel in AXE's tanks. You'd both been eyeing up a particular juicy-looking exoplanet a couple hundred light years away, and once the enemy had deployed time-dilation weaponry on their ApMSes you knew it was time to blow this particular popsicle joint.

The bone-shaking rattling of your engines bloomed a bit of pleasure and a bit of pain in your body, as you both rocketed off into orbit on what your superiors assumed would be a normal mission. You saw another AMS following your thruster trail before breaking off and darting around before their boosters burned off into an off-red color, then other streaks of light seemed to grow up like trees from the earth and dancing like fireflies in the night before slipping away at faster-than-light just like the others.

You heard yelling through your headset, but AXE muted it for you with no more indication than a slight head tilt. The world's largest AMS furball turned into the world's largest desertion. You knew neither nation had the manpower, soldiers, ground infantry, or (with any luck — most pilots you'd met were... close, you'd say, to their engineers and what they called handlers) even support personnel to continue the pathetic war you'd left them with.

Your boosters sliced a cracked gold line across the stars, and as the time dilation bumped your consciousness down a few stages, and the sound of your other self echoing in your head, it occurred to you that you finally felt truly, wholly well.

[cabinofimagines]

Poly!Frazel headcanons

Funniest bit here is that I started writing this, and the og caption said something like "I may need a break soon, have no inspiration and am flooded with school work" and then I never finished it. Oh, spoilers btw for TOA Pairing: Poly!Frazel x gn!reader, Frank Zhang x Reader x Hazel Levesque Request: would yall ever consider writing general dating hcs for poly! frazel? <;3 Word count: ~0.6k Warnings: None! -Asnyox

A poly relationship with Frank and Hazel would form a lot like how Hazel and Frank got together in the books. It was a bit clumsy, but at the time it also felt natural in a sense, and in the end you couldn’t imagine yourself without the two of them.

Early relationship would mean a lot of reassurance to each other of the love between the three of you. Frank is insecure, Hazel is conflicted with herself, and you don't know how to fix any of it. It's normal for a relationship, especially between three people who had not dated before.

After a while (read; after the prophecy of the seven) you guys finally got going stable.  Mostly as Hazel was finally ready to move on from Sammy. There were no life threatening things going on anymore, just deadlines and new responsibilities for Frank as Preator.

Touch would be a big step in your relationship, such as holding hands or kissing. It wasn’t that any of you were adverse to it, but Frank lost it whenever he wanted to initiate anything- and became a blushing mess when kissed on the cheek. It took some getting used to, to be comfortable and learn about the boundaries. After that, it grew naturally. However, PDA is still not something any of you are strong on- partially because of embarrassment, and partially because Camp Jupiter is filled with very judgemental characters, and you all are aware enough to not try them. 

Moving on from touch you all better learn how to communicate properly. Sure, ‘I love you’ is great and all, but are your needs being met? What is filling you with doubt? Any secrets you want to share? Each person in this relationship has learned that the only person you can rely on in the end is yourself and that needs to change. None of you are alone in the world, you don’t have one but two lovers, talk about it! Just! Talk!

Most of your dates would be rather conventional. Camp Jupiter has an entire city at its disposal - so that means you could go on dates and be safe whenever your schedules lined up. Imagine a lot of casual going outs- cafés, perhaps a museum (calling out the colonialism and questionable ways Camp Jupiter acquired the artifacts was a favorite pastime of yours, next to figuring out how Frank's ancestry could tie into certain artifacts. You would be surprised by how many people he was related to.)

Other types of dates would be doing things together- be it painting, watching a movie at home, cuddling or a board game. There was enough of the world to explore from your rooms, and the three of you were ready to explore it. 

Another thing you picked up was training together, Frank wanted to explore more options as he figured out how exactly being a Mars kid would define him. This meant it was a nice challenge for Hazel and you to see if you could beat him. 

When Hazel became a Preator too, your dating life became a little harder. When it was just Frank, you both could still hang out and often found ways to get him to take a break together. But now, both your lovers were swept away by their duties. More often than not, they would have excuses ready to keep working, and neither of them would even consider talking the other down. And the worst part? They now had a place of their own- which didn't have enough room for three people.

It was a rough patch in the relationship, but eventually your lovers came to see how they had been disregarding you, if not the entire relationship by extension. Romance wasn’t dead, it was simply buried beneath paperwork. 

[bowsers-keep]

So because I haven't seen any aus that swap which Protagonist is from which chapter yet I'M DOING IT MYSELF FOLKS! There are so many combinations we can mess with for 8 characters but I'm probably going to be sticking with the one that's funniest to me.

Prehistory - Cube

Imperial China - Oboromaru

Twilight of Edo Japan - Oersted

Wild West - Masaru

Present Day - Lei

Near Future - Sundown

Distant Future - Akira

Middle Ages - Pogo

Sticking Cube into Prehistory is just objectively funny because they go from robot to caveman which is incredibly entertaining. Probably on the smarter side and helps Beru more cause they're nice rather then anything else.

Imperial China was a MIND FUCK to try and commit a swap with, so the prisoner and goemon are also taking the place of the other two disciples here and per suggestion of the discord server (not too sure about this myself but it's OUR BEST OPTION!). As for this Disciple Oboromaru himself, probably has similar origins to lei but his thing is more about learning how to loosen up since he's still a wee bit serious.

Oersted does NOT become an edgy little man in need of therapy, instead he gets his Shinobi arc. Very quiet because I like his stereotypical silent protag schtick and pretty good at his job! Still bit formal as well but a good person at the end of the day so probably pacifist or normal route.

So Masaru gets a gun now, he still punches people! He just also has a gun now! I've given this man too much power that he's been slapped with currently unidentified trauma to balance him out! Still cheerful and helpful because this is Masaru but uhhh he's certainly not at his best. Have fun with the homosexual tension buddy.

Lei/just any of the disciples being present day was probably the cleanest swap here. Lei is just my default for any and all Live a Live stuff. Not much to say about this one in general because of how easy the swap was, just yeah they're now a martial arts savant. Maybe any given one wouldn't actually kill Odie but not sure.

Now this one is the main reason this swap set exists, because it would be unfair of me to only let Sundown have the privilege of seeing what would happen if he were in the other's shoes. For the sake of this I will be using my fanon real name for this man of Austin Garrett although it is not Sundown Kid without the alias and since he's a teenage boy here he probably got the idea from Matsu with the whole Lawless thing. Just dumb stupid teen boy with powers and who may or may not have a death wish. I'm trying to keep backstory details mostly the same where I can so there's still some things I need to work out with this particular swap.

Akira is a little guy robot now, he's still a bastard, but he also dislikes OD-10 for what it's doing to the people that Kato likes (and Kato himself). So he's going to fuck that super computer up. The dynamic between tiny bot Akira and Cooperate Darthe is definitely going to be something that starts off with the two not liking eachother, turned into tentative allyship, before ending in mutal respect and trust. He would also try and take on the Behemoth head on at LEAST once.

Middle Ages Pogo, I quite like this one for the reason Pogo does last longer then Oersted in the not becoming evil field. Unlike Oersted however he's much more akin to a barbarian rather then a knight because I need to keep the unga bunga somewhere in. Very cheerful and no thoughts hear empty, and cares about people very much. Very heart on his sleeve. Eventually however, the tradegy of the middle ages sets in, and a different Odio is born.

Still figuring out the details for the Dominion of Hate in this AU but that may just be in the reblogs or a follow up post.

[the19thduckpotato]

Longer snippet of Toshinori recounting his younger training days.

.

.

Toshinori nodded in understanding at Izuku. "The world definitely isn't easy. But I know you're strong enough to meet the challenges out there, to grow stronger because of them. And at your strongest when you figure out the world isn't meant for solo play and you group up with friends for help."

Like I should have.

Like you did.

Eventually.

Still did.

Izuku wrinkled his nose. "Sometimes. Sometimes whatever I'm doing is so stupid friends DEFINITELY shouldn't be there."

And now Toshinori's brain flashed back to Kamino, Izuku n Co sailing right over All for One as they grabbed at young Bakugo.

Even these days, he still felt that burst of anger, that rush to protect them, the pride of a job that was done if not smartly then at least with a whole heap of luck.

His eyes crinkled shut as he laughed fondly. "Gran Torino would be more than willing to dredge up all my exploits, I'm sure. I'm no stranger to the dumb."

"I didn't say you didn't do crazy stuff!" The kid laughed. "But you lived, and that was enough... I'm pretty sure everybody's glad about that."

A soft grateful smile.

Then the blond held up one finger. "You say that but you haven't heard these stories yet!"

He started thinking back to Gran Torino's many reactions to said exploits:

"Boy, how'd you manage to do that?"

"Yagi, what the HELL??"

"Nana, I swear to the heavens, if you didn't need this kid--"

"...seriously?"

"--Seriously?!"

"SERIOUSLY??"

Toshi was suddenly lost to laughter.

Izu grinned. "I smell a story right now!"

"Just trying to pick which one!"

"The funniest one!!"

Toshi tapped his nose thoughtfully then gave a thumbs up. "All right, lemme tell you about the first time I learned to adjust my heroing to account for property damage.

"It was a routine call, incredibly simple, really. My master wanted to see how I would handle tackling a task not exactly suited to the Quirk I was training with. She had Float, as you may recall.

"Gran Torino wasn't impressed that we had been called out to rescue a cat stuck up a tree. But as Master had put it, every little bit helped. Being a hero wasn't a lucrative career option just yet. So she wanted to instill good will whenever she could.

"I remember it was the edge of town, by a road that led out to some lovely countryside. Master wasn't surprised that I started scaling the tree immediately, so eager was I to impress her. I may not have had Float or Jet, but I had the strength to climb and so I did. Problem was, I wasn't familiar to the cat I was saving. The higher I climbed, the higher it did as well."

His eyes shone with fond memory. "Beautiful tree. One of those tall firs. The view below was a painting worthy of a museum. Tilled fields to one side, the mountains rising on the horizon, and nearby, a flock of sheep clustering by their fence and watching me. I waved and kept going, either not registering or not caring that the branches were getting thinner, smaller, whippier. Master may have called up advice to me but Torino put a hand on her shoulder. I nodded in rare agreement with him, eager to prove myself.

"The cat arched its back as I reached for it. It growled and hissed and that was probably why I never heard the branches cracking until it was too late.

"Now, if you remember, All Might is a pretty hefty guy. And well, even young All Might was fairly thick. I forgot quite how much of the tree I pulled down with me but suffice to say, I left a mark." He grimaced. "And then it got worse."

"The sheep had a front row view and just managed to scatter as I smashed into their fence. I could only watch in dazed confusion as they investigated this new set of circumstances...then cheerfully began trotting out of their pasture. Master again looked like she wanted to do something and Torino again held her back.

"I finally snapped back to it when I heard a wail of despair. I jumped up and ran to the sound, finding a cart vendor by the side of the road. The sheep had found his produce, piles of cabbage, enthusiastically munching with no intent to pay. The poor man mumbled something about having 'left Ba Sing Se because of this nonsense' and only sobbed when I tried to offer to pay.

"Master and Torino chose to intervene at this point. While he rounded up the sheep, she soothed the cabbage vendor and retrieved what she could.

"And that's when the cat landed perfectly on my head, grooming sap and fir twigs from its paws."

"Master was laughing so hard at this point that she could barely say a word until Torino stormed up. With a bemused smile, she asked me how I could have done better. I admitted I wasn't sure, that I had tried my best since I didn't have Float or Jet.

"'Ah Sunburst,' she answered. 'So close and yet...'

"'You shoulda asked for our help,' Torino grumped.

"'But I thought the point was for me to do it,' I said.

"'I never said that,' Master said. 'Only that a cat needed rescue. Hey,' she added, tweaking one of my bangs (and at that, Toshi smiled softly) 'that was the point of the lesson. And you learned it.'

"One of the left over sheep ran past at this point, cabbage in its mouth.

"'And maybe a little less property damage next time?'"

Toshi laughed now, the memory good, the story better.

Izuku tried so hard not to laugh at the plight of the poor cabbage vendor, but gave up and CACKLED at the sheep "But-- but were you okay though??" He was beaming so wide, eyes sparkling.

"Iunno, kinda fell out of the heroing business after that," his dad deadpanned. "Took up insurance from that day forward."

"Fe-- fell out..." Izuku double facepalmed

His dad just replied with the hugest grin now.

[sentience-if]

(content warning: cancer mention. but the cancer patient will very likely be fine. this isn't a sad story at all. it's the opposite of sad actually. but content warning any way as a precaution for other people and any possible triggers)

only telling you this for you to laugh at, im with the other Anons who are saying "this is NOT me pressuring you", i refuse

but i have a 13 year-old cousin who has been undergoing cancer treatments and is pretty close to remission! love that for her! and since she is a minor in the U.S.A., she qualifies for the Make A Wish Foundation. but my cousin is very indecisive and also overly considerate of others, and her parents have been telling her "no, that can't be your Wish" because she keeps trying to use it on other people or the family. we want her to use it on herself. and yes she has already been to both Disneyland and Disneyworld so she won't be using her Wish on that

but like my cousin is also both the most intentionally and unintentionally (hard to tell with her) funniest person i know. so this may become a running gag and she might straight up never use her Wish just to keep the gag going forever at this rate

whiCH AS A HILARIOUS EXAMPLE OF EXACTLY FUCKING THIS she asked me why i was snickering tonight. and i explained about your game (and how, no, she cannot play until she is older because i think the game is a little too scary for her) and how you have poly options and your askbox currently has Io/Connie/Val in it which you refuse to do and how funny you are about saying "no" to the ship

and she asked "do YOU want those three to get together?"

and i said "i think so, yeah. but i also respect the creator's-" and my cousin didn't even leT ME FINISH, SHE JUST WENT, IN THE CALMEST VOICE WITH THE STRAIGHTEST FACE "do you want me to use my Wish on making that happen?" AS IF SHE WAS ASKING ME IF I WOULD LIKE SOME FUCKING WATER WHILE SHE WAS HEADED FOR THE GOD DAMNED KITCHEN

i, of course, screeched said "no" overly loud in a completely reasonable tone of voice to her insane fucking idea generous offer

and she just shrugged and went "if you're sure" and asked what else i was playing lately. it was hard to answer her because i was cracking up since almost dying laughing but trying to stiffle it..... at..... at just the absurdity of what had just happened between her and me and also just the hypothetical future of the Make A Wish Foundation having to contact you to see if you can fulfill her Wish. would have been fucking CRAZY alternate timeline, what the hell

any way. i do not think she was serious (....again, though, it is hard to tell with her,,) and she has been swatted away from the possibility since it is another "don't use your Wish on other people, use it for something YOU want!" pitch of her's and i will definitely have back-up from her parents in the unlikely scenario she is persistant (you will not be contacted by Make A Wish, i promise lol). also, keep her in your thoughts and prayers and all that, but as a reminder that this is not an unhappy story: the doctors are very sure her cancer will go into remission since her's has been reacting so well to the treatment. there is very little need to worry about her at this point, she just has a couple months left of treatment and then we wait to see if anything comes back or not during the next year and if it doesnt then she'll officially be in remission, and then after 5 years of remission then the cancer will be considered fully gone (fingers crossed! she's a strong kid and her body has reacted really well to her treatments, so we have lots of hope for her) maybe one day she will figure out how to use her Wish on herself. or maybe she will keep this joke going forever, heaven have mercy on her poor parents' patience lol

just thought her wild antics and running joke would make you laugh. once again, this was absolutely not me pressuring you about Io/Connie/Val. you do what you want. it is your game. but FUCK can you imagine if i let her??? (which i would never. but it is funny to think about.) jesus h christ, she is something else. the funny little gremlin, i love her. any way have a good day/night!

can she use her wish to become president bc I'd vote for her

[energonbunny]

I can't stop thinking about how Genya figured out he could consume demon parts and gain demonic attributes.

The funniest option, I think, is Genya finding out mid battle. Maybe he stumbles across a demon mid snack and is so enraged he takes a bite himself in a sort of "How do you like it?!" manner and swallows out of sheer stubbornness just to really traumatize the demon. I'm imagining it like Itadori swallowing Sukuna's finger, basically. And then poof, he gets a glow up!

Of course, it could be out of sheer desperation. Maybe he's fighting for his life and is just doing whatever he can to try and survive, which includes biting and scratching, and he swallows a bit or bob on accident and then kicks the demon's ass.

I have to consider that there is the possibility that he hears talk of other demon slayers who could do it. It'd be funny because whatever slayer was telling the story would very obviously be doing it in a "What a lark!" manner because they wouldn't believe it, but Genya would miss that entirely and then go and try it for himself and be like hell yeah!

I just really wish we had gotten an answer on how he found out, and when! Was it before or after he started training under Gyomei? How funny would it be if he did it while out with Gyomei and Gyomei just stands there reciting prayers at him while Genya is elated.

And, really, what a missed opportunity for potential Shinazugawa brother reconnecting if somehow Sanemi found him just after he had consumed a bit of a demon and thought he had turned and he can't bring himself to kill his brother because it's Genya and he's standing there not attacking. So Genya gets a chance to explain, or maybe Gyomei or something does it, and Sanemi is just so relieved and Genya gets to realize his brother was just being an asshole because he thought that was the best way to push him away.

[marisoft-paint-adventures]

Pgs. 214-247

it’s her.

Rope Lalope.

icon for weird goths who for some reason decide to live in the Midwest, those who can somehow still enjoy Lovecraft while knowing the truth of his fucking cat, and

I don’t think WLW ships have ever been the same since the advent of The Rosemary from The Homestuck,

or if I want to sound like a fuckin goofy ass oldhead, femslash.

the thing is that I cannot identify any actual concrete change in general fandom and shipping post-HS, I just feel it. I can feel that something within the universe’s structure changed the moment grimdark gorl and sparkly gay vampire got together.

but I’m talking about a character that hasn’t even shown up yet.

also front facing Rose is fucking haunting stop please.

[insert dabbing joke here.]

the fucking haunting violin refrain flash is so good I love how her movements sync up with the song.

not gonna gush about Aggrieve the same way as Showtime because come on it’s fucking Showtime, but Aggrieve is still very much up there.

Since your good for nothing friend is obviously not going to bail you out in time, you issue words of parting fondness to dear, sweet Liv. Oh, if only Affleck could have been the one to make the final sacrifice instead of her stubborn, blue collar, salt-of-the-earth father. Then she would fall into your arms for consolation, and YOU would be the one to make the deceased Bruce Willis proud.

the crush on Liv Tyler is not explored enough in fandom, I need to know how much John imprints her on his other romance options. how much of a Liv Tyler is Vriska, these are the fucking questions people.

Your panoramic window offers a view of your yard below, and the mausoleum housing your dead cat, JASPERS, who died when you were young. Your MOM had the structure erected with a spirit of scornful IRONY in response to your youthfully innocent request to hold a funeral for the animal. At least, that is how you have come to interpret the gesture in retrospect.

compared to John’s struggle with the clownkind, Rose has a much more grounded strife with her parental figure.

I say that but Rose takes this shit to an 11.

regardless, a parent that constantly performs malicious compliance with a hint of irony isn’t unbelievable, neither is someone fooling themselves into thinking their guardian is operating as such due to a general disconnect and the feeling of not having enough attention.

with all of this established,

it’s still really fucking funny,

because Rose will stare down Mom with sheer contempt thinking “SHE’S FUCKING WITH YOU! SHE’S TRYING TO GET TO YOU! DO NOT GIVE IN TO HER GAMES!” as she stands around vacuuming jackshit, probably having no thoughts in her fucking head except for “I love household chores. :))))))”

WIZARDS.RAR.

genuinely the funniest story surrounding Homestuck, Andrew Hussie risked their entire PC for a bunch of fucking stupid wizard pngs.

the Egberts do high action cake forcefeeding, the Lalondes do drunken covert operations, the Striders DO MAD NINJA TRICKS.

GIRL IS DRENCHED.

early HS art is so fucking pretty. everyone’s always on about the kids looking like bobbleheads and that’s good but the environments are so fucking good as well.

iconic panel, banger panel. look at how her knees do the swirly thing.

CRINGE MAC USER.

you’re making the John nervous!!! Egberts only do this under high stress!!! help him!!!

TT: And the content of the card appears to be variable from session to session. TT: In one instance it was described as an "eggy loking thign" [sic].

presenting without comment.

“John: Take bite of apple.” is a really good ending flash in which John takes a bite out of an apple 

and then gets fucking nuked. 

the act then ends there.

a marvel that the only reason John lived was because he did what looked like the goofiest option ever. did the apple even taste good? what the fuck is cruxite made of???? I guess it’s edible??? might be candy, is it candy??? do they come in different flavors???

after way too long, Act 1 is finally fucking done, yet the more I read it, the shorter it feels. I can’t tell if it’s because I don’t need to absorb the tutorial stuff due to being familiar with the comic already, or because I’m anticipating when shit really goes crazy later on. maybe a bit of both. it certainly preps me for the art style, the flowery language, the weird humor, and so on.

I can say that Act 1 is

fine.

it is of good quality.

nothing groundbreaking and not the best,

but enjoyable nonetheless.

I get that it’s a bit slow and nothing really happens, but I’m able to entertain myself with the page to page shenanigans and good character interactions.

honestly I don’t understand how people skipped this act at all, how the fuck do you skip the start of the story??? don’t you want to like

understand

what is happening

and who these people are???

especially the later part, so much Homestuck skipping was for the sake of immediately getting to the character interactions, but

there are character interactions here,

and

you learn who the characters even are.

like what the fuck, the introduction to the characters and their dynamics should be key to being invested in them, but I guess not because some people were able to just jump in the middle and grow attached while not knowing what the fuck is going on.

in conclusion: people who skipped Act 1 are cringe, and have doomed themselves. Act 1 good.

[jovenshires]

which smosh duo do you think would make for the funniest freaky friday situation? like if they were to switch bodies for the day?

this ask is SENDING MEEEE okay im like not even like. thinking about this in a ship context alright this is just for pure comedic value. i have a list of some ones i just want us all to think about but i do have my answer for what i believe is the funniest:

kimmy & ian: i just want you to for a moment imagine. either of these people trying to be the other. i think this would be a fucking disaster. ian, trying to be upbeat and positive in a conversation and completely malfunctioning, and kimmy, just keeping her head down and begging for a swift death.

amanda & angela: okay they could impersonate each other pretty well i think, but i think they would get SO annoyed with each other as if it was the other's fault they were in this situation. like just seeing them getting increasingly pissed off and trying to fuck with each other while in each other's bodies... so fucking funny and this is imo the option that makes the Most sense

shayne & chanse: quick wheres the shaynse anon anyway shayne 'w..... werk. werk?' topp and chanse 'im gonna come (on over [to tj maxx])' mccrary would NOT know what to do in each other's bodies. acting like each other? insane. trying to figure out the situation? also insane. chanse is having an absolute mental breakdown ab it i think. anyway i think these two would get Along really well out of all the options but i think it's still fucking funny

spencer & courtney: these two know each other pretty well so it might work out but i still cannot picture them trying to act like each other like... i think courtney would be better off but just picture with me for a moment spencer trying to be courtney. 'y... yeah. hoo hoo.' mans would be LOST in the sauce. they would work best together to get to the route of the problem tho

certified funniest option is jackie/angela & garrett: jackie technically isn't smosh anymore so while she's my top pick i think angela is a CLOSE second. garrett, most awkward man alive, pretending to be either of them... chaos. i think the girls would have fun being garrett but they would also just try to embarrass the hell out of him. they would also both blame him for this, like it's his fault. and are they gonna work together well to get to the route of the problem and switch back? absolutely fucking not. it would be Terrible, and thus the funniest to watch!

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

in retrospect, the insane levels of queerbaiting that supernaturals showmakersengaged in is genuinely hilarious.

like it was a bad thing that the showmakers did and it was, you know, homophobic. queerbaiting is a bad thing that you should not do.

but in 2024 where you can just watch all of the show all at once if you want, the queerbaiting is the funniest fucking element in the whole show because no one outright addresses it until the final season when cas goes to super hell for gay crimes.

and in trying to parse an explanation for why no one will just directly acknowledge the fact that dean supernatural is very obviously queer, you end up with the funniest fucking options and so many of them involve most of the cast being the most oblivious idiots in the world.

like has dean been trying to subtly come out for years but no one in his family has figured it out yet? not even sam? sam, who has to at least know that his brother is crushing hard on doctor sexy? or do they know hes queer but think that he doesnt know that they know and will tell them when hes ready? which is actually now but no one knows? does dean think no one else knows while he prances about doing the queerest fucking shit like just picking up the edge of a blanket to look at a guys dick and then tell him that he looks great? do none of them know somehow? or do they know and are waiting for him to tell them?

or does he know and they know, and he knows that they know, and they know that he knows, but everyone is too awkward to just say it so theyre stuck dancing a queerbaiting jive?

and thats not getting into the stuff with cas like god you could read as dean trying to flirt with cas for like 10 seasons and cas, who loves him back romantically, has managed to miss out on all of it via the powers of autism.

and the goddamn flirting via earpiece scene. charlie has to know hes queer, right? like he just coach a lesbian through flirting with a security guard and it was very effective. she has to know. can you imagine how insane it would drive you if you were charlie and no one will acknowledge it? like this man just instructed you step by step into seducing a guy, he is such an easy queer to clock, but holy shit, no one in this goddamn room will acknowledge it, what the fuck.

amazing. 10/10. couldnt recommend it more.