#I thought people got this concept-- like this is why white people going ''I don't see color'' makes no fucking sense

[dailyadventureprompts]

Do the ethnostates inherent in major fantasy ever feel real weird to you? You’ve got elftopia (full of elves, where everyone speaks elf and worships the elf gods), orc-hold (full of orcs and maybe their slaves, where everyone speaks orc and worships the orc gods), and dwarfton (made by the dwarves! for the dwarves!).

You might have some cosmopolitan areas, usually human-dominant, but those are usually rare enough in-setting that they need to be pointed out separately. Is this just based on a misunderstanding of the medieval era, and the assumption that countries were all racially homogenous?

This has been bouncing around my brain the last little while. Do you have any thoughts on that? Is it just in my head?

I think what you've noticed is a quirk of derivative fantasy writing, which like a lot of hangups with the genre originates in people trying to crib Tolkien's work without really understanding what he was going for:

Though it contains a lot of detail, Tolkien's world is not grounded. It functions according a narrative logic that changes depending on what work in particular you're focusing on at the time (The Hobbit is a fairytale full of tricks and riddles, Lord of the Rings is a heroic epic, The Silmirilion is a legendary history).

One of the reasons the races are separate is to instill the feeling of wonder in the hobbits as POV characters for the reader, other folk live in far off places and are supposed to feel more legendary than our comparatively mundane friends from the shire. The Movies captured this well where going east in middle earth was like going back in time to a more and more mythologized past.

In real life, people don't stay static for thousands of years, no matter how long their people live. They meet, mingle, war and trade. Empires rise and fall creating shrapnel as they go, cultures adapt to a changing environment. This means that any geographic cross section you make is going to be a collage of different influences where uniformity is a glaring aberration.

What the bad Tolkien knockoffs did was take his image of a mythical world and tried to make it run in a realistic setting. Tolkien can say the subterranean dwarven kingdom of Erebor lasted for a thousand years without having to worry about birthrates or demographic shifts or the logistics of farming in a cave because he's writing the sort of story where those things don't matter. D&D and other properties like it however INSIST that their worlds are grounded and realistic but have to bend over backwards to keep things static and hegemonic.

Likewise contributing to the "ethnostate" feeling is early d&d (backbone of the fantasy genre that it is) being created by a bunch of White Midwestern Americans who were not only coming from a background of fantasy wargaming but were working during the depths of the coldwar. Hard borders and incompatible ideologies, cultural hegemony and intellectual isolation, a conception of the world that focused around antagonism between US and THEM. These were people born in the era of segregation for whom the idea of cultural and racial osmosis was alien, to the point where mingling between different fantasy races produced the "mongrelman" monster, natural pickpockets who combined the worst aspects of all their component parts, unwelcome in good society who were most often found as slaves.

This inability to appreciate cultural exchange is likewise why the central d&d pantheon has a ton of human gods with specific carveouts for other races (eventually supplemented with a bunch of race specific minor gods who are various riffs on the same thing). Rather than being universal ideals, the gods were seen as entities just as tribalistic as their followers.

[tocomplainfriend]

I am mad

Yup!

Bro shut up, she is white - being Latina is not a race, is an not the same as color skin. And she is a second generation immigrant too. So like... this isn't like a Salvadorian person doing a cartoon, is a daughter of Salvadorians... That grew in the USA. Being Latino doesn't mean you aren't white, you can be any race and Latino. Still wouldn't make up for the lack of representation or the existing racism. In the piece of media that's "diverse".

Salvadorian is not a race, LMAO. That's crazy- you think someone from Argentina who is white, is not white cause of their nationality??? Being Latino and having that culture does not equal a race. It's in itself a racist thing. This Latino = Race is terrible, It also comes from the idea of the "You are not Latino because you are not brown", assuming all people from Latino America are brown by default. You know how much has that happen to me? -AND MANY OTHER PEOPLE.

(I'm Latino btw)

I already have an older post about it, but - you can really see the lack of diversity in the show a lot. (Will talk about it even more other day).

Again the main thing you get is MEN, hypersexual skinny queer men (cis). You won't get to see female characters being well written, thought all the season 1 and all the episodes we got rn of season 2. All characters are skinny and similar body types and repetitive design choices. Funny enough, shows that lack of human characters still have better race-coding that helluva. (and well in hazbin you'll get POC characters that are gray, lack all ethic features... even when they are humanoid. So that is great.)

Bro you could, you imagine a character being black and having different textured hair, and you go to hell... AND EVEN THO YOU ARE HUMANOID- your hair became straight and spiky, and you are now a light gray? If you build a world like that... it just seems like the perfect racist excuse to delete ethic features out a POC character because you don't want to draw them. "Not going to a single hint of their race/culture unless it revolves on their death"... If the character became a fucking coin with dot eyes, maybe (not really, shows with no human/humanoid characters still are capable to race-code their characters). But all of these characters are humanoid- why do none of them have their different characteristics? Also, this is about a real person in the real world choosing how to design a character.

This tweet also implies that a black character when they were a life they had ethic features, but lose them when they go to hell. Which is even more fucking stupid.

If a white person with straight hair goes to hell, and their hair remains straight (assuming it has nothing to do with their death), why wouldn't there be black people with textured hair? This is dumb. This goes back to the fucking thing of "No black people in fantasy media", In the same way, it's stupid for fantasy stories to revolve around white people characteristics in fictional species and people in that world- not including all the rest of diverse human characteristics POC people have it's crazy. The biggest problem here is why the fuck all Viv's sinners characters (main characters designed by her) that are supposed to black (or mixed like Alastor) have 0 characteristic. THEY ARE HUMANOID, THEY AREN'T EVEN ABSTRACT OR AN ANIMAL OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. She didn't want to draw that nor change designs, and wanted to justify the whole concept of Alastor even using Voodou.

HOW ARE ALL THE ANGELS THAT VIV WANTS TO BE BLACK (black voice actors specified, or are race specified) HAVE NOTHING??? LIKE HELLO THE 'I'm such a nice angel character girl' HAS SPIKY STRAIGHT HAIR??? SHE IS AN ANGEL AND BLACK, WHY DIDN'T YOU DID HER HAIR TO BE CLOUDS- It's THE EASIEST SHIT YOU COULD’VE DONE.

BOOM! A FUCKING TROLL FROM A KIDS MOVIE WITH DIFFERENT HAIR. BOOM! THE FUNK TROLLS ARE SO EXPLICITLY BLACK CODED.

---

-

Bro, you know this whole thing of people with textured hair have to forcefully straighten their hair or wear wogs to a job... because people consider it ""Unprofessional"" cause racism? The erasure and discrimination of POC people and their features is a problem. That's why it is important to people represent all of those things:

(Marvel's Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur)

The only reason of why Alas tor is even mixed is purely cause Viv used the Voodou symbols because she thought they were creepy and edgy. It's sucks that all the angels and sinners that are supposed to be black have nothing.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field // epilogue

summary: seven years later.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??

a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

~ seven years later ~

"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.

"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.

Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?

"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.

You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"

"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."

"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.

"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.

Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.

"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.

"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."

You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.

She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.

"No, Darling. You take it."

"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."

"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."

"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."

"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.

"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.

You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"

"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."

"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."

"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."

"Yes sir, Mister President."

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.

"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"

"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."

"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"

You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."

"And now, here you are." He nods at you.

"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.

"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"

"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."

"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"

"We did." You nod. "And more."

"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"

"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."

"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.

"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"

"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.

"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.

"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.

"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.

"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.

When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.

"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.

"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."

"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.

"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.

Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."

The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.

"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."

"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.

"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.

"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.

"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."

"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."

Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."

"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"

"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"

"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.

"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."

"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.

As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.

The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.

"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.

You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.

"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.

And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.

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taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

[ckret2]

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

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

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

1981

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

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

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

"About twenty years."

"What?"

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

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

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

"What's the worst one?"

"Marriage."

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

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

He hadn't. "Will it help?"

"Sure it will! Eventually!"

"In time to help pay my mortgage?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For fun?"

"For fun."

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

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

####

Spring, 2013

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

June 2013

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

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

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

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

He pushed harder.

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

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

Her hand grabbed weakly at his.

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

"What have you done?"

Bill whirled around to face— "Dad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill said, "What."

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

Bill stared at him. "What."

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

"Whoa. Bad dream?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"HEY!"

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you need...?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mabel called, "Bill?"

He ignored her and kept walking.

####

"What was that all about?"

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

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

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

Mabel paused. "Oh." She laughed weakly.

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

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

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

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

"No I don't."

"You're so sensitive."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aww. That poor picturesque beach town."

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

"Did you stop it?"

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

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

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

Dipper and Bill. "Guess so."

####

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turned the page over to read the letter.

GIDEON–

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

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

Gideon's blood ran cold.

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

The postmark was from Gravity Falls.

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

"Can't say I did!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gideon frowned. "I see."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was another crack of thunder; and then nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No! You're not even watching."

"I'm psychic. Go left."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Told you," Bill muttered.

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

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

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

Dipper and Mabel turned to glare at Bill.

He was determinedly studying the fish tank.

"Hey, Goldie," Dipper snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shhh!" Mabel tried to push Bill away.

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

Gideon squealed in terror and bolted out the door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gideon nodded. "O... okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

"Bullying Gideon like that!"

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

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

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

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

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

Bill blinked in mild surprise. "Huh."

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

####

"I have my ways," Bill said.

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

####

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dipper shook his head in resignation.

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

"How's that?"

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

"Episode?" Dipper asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill shrugged. "Then what do you suggest."

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

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

"Yeah, it is."

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

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

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

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

"He should say 'sorry.'"

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

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

####

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

[evaglass]

Speculation about Mizu's parents pt. 4

Going back to the story of the Ronin and the Bride

This is official concept art, I believe. Look at the blue eyes, then specifically look at the baby, and the blanket the baby is wrapped around her. That blanket is seen somewhere else.

It looks like the blanket baby Mizu had laying below her

It's also seen again in a flashback when Mizu is a child and also used as her belt throughout the show.

Remember when I said that the Ronin and Bride could also represent her parents. Using the connections with the films that influenced the show, as well as hints of foreshadowing, I believe Mizu's mother found out she was pregnant, probably tried to run away to raise Mizu in safety (like the Bride in Kill Bill), realized that finding safety for both her and Mizu might take more time than she thought, left Mizu in the care the maid, during that time her actual mother was found and killed by one of the white men like Fowler stated before she could ever reunite with Mizu.

I also have a hunch that Mizu's biological mother died the same night Mizu's childhood home went up in flames, and she was left to survive on the streets. It would make the scene where Mizu is a child swearing to her 'mother' that she'll avenge them. Of course, Mizu was referring to the maid, who later turned out to survive that night, but then her quest for vengance later shifted to the reason being of her existence as a 'monster'.

I also believe the blue eyes of the Bride from the puppet show when she comes back as an Onryo are supposed to represent Mizu's mother's eyes as well, and that she got her blue eyes from her mother. Like Yuki, Mizu could be a representation of her mother's need for vengance after death.

Why? Well, because, as I said earlier, she could have tried to run away and find the best opportunity to leave Japan unnoticed (like how Beatrix tried to run away with her unborn daughter), but eventually was found and killed. So, her rage lives on through Mizu because her mother was taken away from her, was stripped of the chance to raise her, to be there when she was scared, lonely, or sad, to see all her milestones, to let her know that she loves her, etc.

Mizu could be a representation of her mother's rage beyond the grave, and she doesn't even know it

When Fowler finds out Mizu is actually a woman, he knows exactly who she is. That she was raised in hiding, that she had a maid raise her, that there's a high bounty for her.

I don't think Fowler laughed at the fact that Mizu is a woman, I think he might have laughed because he finds the situation ironic. He knows that Mizu is out for vengance because she's mad about her existence; that a white man, who brought pain to many people with his three fellow white men, impregnated her Japanese mother, causing her to be born a 'monster', and costing her the ability to live a normal life.

Fowler found out Mizu wants all her potential white fathers dead before he even found out she's a woman. After finding out Mizu is a woman, a specific woman too, he laughs because maybe he knows none of the white men are her father because it's mother who was the European one, and she's going through all that trouble only for the white person responsible for her existence to already be dead.

So if that's the case, why didn't Fowler just tell her? Well, do you honestly think Mizu would believe him? If anything, she could have seen the potential reveal of her mother being the European as getting him, Skeffington, and Routley to dodge responsibility. Fowler is a shitty person, but he's not stupid. Mizu is also a bit hot-headed, she probably would have definitely killed him if he revealed something like that.

Fowler knows Mizu being mixed-raced is a big insecurity for her and has proven to her that she will do anything to kill the people responsible for it. Fowler not telling her, could possibly be for the reason of simply buying himself time because him telling her she won't find Routley and Skeffington without him gives him the chance to find away to escape when they arrive at the British Isles.

Now, there's the question of who could be Mizu's father. I'll explain in part 5 (I know this already long, but I'm almost done)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

- canine, but mine (pt. 1: acquaintances)

pairing: huang renjun x reader

au/genre: hybrid!au, fox hybrid!renjun, human!reader, virgin!renjun, smut, fluff, angst (?), the au is kinda unserious

don't like it, don't read it, okay... *sighs*

also, don't publicly shame me for any inaccuracies. i admittedly do not ready many (read: any) hybrid fics...

word count: 2860 words

warnings: HYBRIDS!, bullying, comforting, petting (not the sexual kind), semi-public diddling, mentions of virginity, cumming untouched, the base of renjun's tail is very sensitive......., sub!renjun ig

a/n: happy renjun day! 🦊

taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @i6renj

Ever since Renjun remembers, life has not been kind to him. Born not out of love between two people, but created in a laboratory for scientific research purposes, born not to be a part of society, but as an experiment for a potential weapon; part animal, part human, but not really part of either of those worlds.

Only after hybrid-rights-protests forced the government to take action against hybrid experiments, he was freed; free, but not really free, because that he'll never be. Instead, unloved by his creators that he could never bring himself to call parents, he continued growing up in a foster home, surrounded by kids that were nothing like him, kids that looked different than him, and kids that did not believe in the concept of "thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself". The days he was not kicked by them, he was at least laughed at, mocked, or judged.

Renjun, objectively, knows that it's not his fault that he looks different, that he is different. He was just born, or rather: brought to life, with a set of orange fox-like ears on top of his fluffy, brown hair, a soft, bushy tail, tiny little fangs, and claws that he always keeps neatly trimmed to not accidentally hurt anyone.

The bullying did not stop when he started going to school, nor did it lessen the older he got. Kids are mean, Renjun knows that by heart, and he's never even had a friend. When he was 14, the girls in his class dared each other who would be brave enough to "kiss the freak", when he was 16, people started inviting him on dates only to laugh at him with their friends when he showed up all excited, and when he finally finished school and started going to university, he thought it would all be different. To be fair, he was no longer pushed into lockers, he was no longer spat at and people stopped pulling at his tail for fun, but the mocking did not stop. And even when he met another hybrid, a popular, big white tiger hybrid, he didn't receive any sympathy. God how he wishes to at least be a cool, strong hybrid, like a lion or a bear... or even a wolf! Why did they have to make him a stupid fox...

Ever since that day, he's told himself one thing: you're going to work hard, get through university and get a good job in the big city... where there are lots of hybrids and lots of supporters.

At this point, Renjun is fairly used to the bullying. With his goal in mind, he doesn't fight it, he just lowers his head, his ears laying flat against his fluffy hair as he waits for it to be over. He guesses that people are just not ready for hybrids yet.

One can only imagine his upmost shock when on the first day of the new semester, someone willingly sat down next to him. Admittedly, you were 5 minutes late and there were no other seats available, but you didn't beg anyone to please scoot over just so you didn't have to sit next to the weird guy with the tail. Renjun vividly remembers this day in philosophy class, as the professor went on and on about Henri Bergson and how the sand wasp instinctively knows where to sting the caterpillar to paralyze it, while Renjun was just smitten by the girl sitting next to him without gagging.

Unable to talk to you, he was just sitting there, smiling shyly to himself at this small act that seemed so big to him. He remembers almost falling off his chair in shock as you "psst!"-ed at him and awkwardly asked for a pen since you forgot yours. He remembers having to pinch himself as you smiled and thanked him, and told him you thought his shirt was cute. He remembers looking around in case you weren't really talking to him as you said, "see you next week!"

And when in the following weeks, you kept sitting down next to him even though there were other seats available, he was almost sure this had to be a dream. But it wasn't, and when during the third lesson, you softly asked for his name, he was this close to bursting into tears.

A few weeks into the semester, Renjun is currently sitting at the library, trying to memorize the different forms of utilitarianism. As always, he's sitting in a separate study room that he booked just for himself – a precautious attempt to not get made fun of as he's trying to concentrate. He crosses out his second attempt of trying to spell deontology correctly as he notices someone passing by the glass door to his study room. A moment later, the person backs up and looks inside, and he realizes it's you.

His heart stops for a moment as you begin smiling and waving at him, and he slowly lifts his hand to mimic the action hesitantly. Of course, you take that as an invitation to come in.

You close the door after slipping inside, still talking in a low tone as not to disturb anyone outside.

"Hey~" you say and sit down across from Renjun. He smiles and bites his lip nervously, "hey."

"You here all alone?" You ask softly, "is it okay if I sit with you?"

Renjun blushes. He knows you didn't think anything of it, but mentioning his lack of acquaintances is a bit of a sore spot for him.

"Sure... if you want," he says shyly, still not completely trusting that you're not going to turn this all around and make fun of him.

"Only if it doesn't bother you," you smile, "I'll be super quiet, promise!"

His smile is getting more genuine as you talk so casually to him. He just starts feeling a bit more comfortable, when sudden movements in front of the glass door make his head lift up.

A group of guys is standing there, pressing their faces against the door, clearly mocking his fox ears with their hands behind their heads. His heart sinks, he should've known this was going to happen today, it always happens when he's out in public.

"What-" you ask, noticing the pained look on his face and the way his ears are pointing down as he feels a wave of shame overcome him. You turn around, taking in the group of guys who're still silently making fun of the fox hybrid. "What the fuck..."

Renjun's ears twitch in surprise as you stand up, and he waits anxiously for what's about to happen. You rip open the glass door, lifting your finger into their face before speaking to them, hushed but still loud enough for a few people to lift their heads. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Did your mom not teach you manners? You should be ashamed of yourselves, you're university students, cut the crap with your preschool bullying, you fucking assholes," you tell them, and Renjun's eyes widen comically. You... you're standing up for him? For him?!

"If I see you doing this one more time, I'll get you kicked off campus... Now go back to being worthless idiots somewhere else. Leave him alone, I swear to God..." you say before closing the door, flipping them off, pulling down the blinds, and heading back to Renjun. To Renjun's upmost surprise, the guys actually left, and looking embarrassed at that, possibly because you just made one hell of a scene – and it's probably the sexiest thing Renjun's ever witnessed.

You sit down again, this time next to him. "You okay?"

Renjun breathes out shakily, ears twitching, tail swaying back and forth nervously. He's not sure what to make of this, someone standing up for him, it has never happened to him before. And before he can stop himself, he blurts out the question he's been asking himself since the moment your ass cheeks touched the surface of the chair next to him in that first philosophy lesson. "Why are you so nice to me?"

You halt, furrowing your brows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He seems even more confused by that answer. "Um... You know, I'm a hybrid? Maybe you find that weird?"

You blink at him, "why is that weird?"

"Don't you... think I'm weird?" He asks. "Odd? Repelling? Freaky? Off-putting?? Anything???" He keeps listing adjectives as you keep shaking your head no. "Why... would you stand up for me?"

"I just don't like bullies," you state nonchalantly, "plus you're really cute."

Renjun's eyes bulge out of their sockets, tail curling up so suddenly that he feels like he's almost broken something in there. Maybe you're an animal friend, maybe that's all he is to you? "Cute? Like the fox parts or...?"

"Everything about you is cute. The fox parts are cute, but you'd still be cute without them."

Renjun just stares at you. This can't be real. He pinches the palm of his hand several times without you noticing, but he's just not waking up. If this is a dream, which he's almost certain it has to be, he could do anything he wants right now... like making your head explode- just to be sure! He concentrates greatly on it, but your head stays intact. He gives up. "You're not disgusted?"

"What?!" You look utterly confused, then your features soften into a look of concern. "Are people... usually disgusted by you?"

He nods without hesitation. "Usually, they just point and laugh, sometimes it even gets worse than that..." Renjun can't even bring himself to cringe as you put on a brave expression and tell him you're going to protect him from now on, because this is honestly the best thing that's ever happened to him. His heart melts at your words and it's hard to believe he's actually being comforted. There are no jokes being thrown around, no mockery, not even any pity. For once, Renjun feels like there's someone who wants to protect him. His lower lip quivers slightly as he holds back tears, and without thinking, he leans forward and places his head on your shoulder.

He hears you coo quietly, lifting your hand to his back and pulling him closer. "Is... is it okay if I stroke your hair?"

Renjun closes his eyes and nods. The warmth of the hug is comforting, the touch of your hands is gentle and soothing. His tension quickly dies down as he melts against you as he realizes that he has never felt like this before. And as you begin gently scratching and massaging his scalp, his ears begin twitching and relaxing at the feeling of your nimble fingers. He tries to hide the innocent pleasure that's shooting though his body, not sure if you would think it's odd, but his heartbeat is increasing rapidly. Your fingers feel like magic as they brush against his ears and scratch the base of his scalp. Suddenly a little too unhinged for his liking, he begins purring and nuzzling your neck, enjoying every single bit of your touch.

"God, you're adorable..." you say softly, making sure to pet him behind his ears and Renjun's entire body fizzles with pleasure at the feeling. As if it has a mind of its own, his tail curls around your legs. "Is this okay? Have you ever been pet like this?"

Renjun hums in delight, "I've always dreamed about getting pet like this..." Your fingers begin gently playing with his ears. At first, they twitch nervously, but soon, he relaxes into the touch. He notes that his ears are very sensitive when being touched by someone else that isn't himself, and he loves the sensation.

"They're so soft... I could pet you like this all day," you say softly, making Renjun smile.

"Do you...," he hesitates for a bit, "want to touch my tail too? It's even softer..."

"Do you want me to?"

Renjun nods shyly, lifting his tail a bit for easy access. The moment your fingers begin brushing over his fur, he shivers, whimpering slightly. Every other time, whenever someone's touched his tail before, it was rough and mean, but the way you oh so gently run your fingers through his fur makes him almost lightheaded.

"Your fur is so soft...," you whisper and he hums in response, eyes already closed as he gets lost in the feeling. His tail makes small circles behind your leg when you brush over the fur, he whimpers softly as your fingers move further up towards the base of his tail.

Your fingers feel so good, unlike anything he's ever felt before. He keeps questioning if this is love, or if this is what it feels like when someone really cares, but all he knows is that he craves more and more of this all consuming feeling, when suddenly, he lets out a short, loud moan. The tips of your fingers have unknowingly reached the base of his tail, causing a jolt of pure, white, hot pleasure to shoot through his body.

Shamefully, he buries himself into your shoulder, his tail curling around your leg. He's mortified as your movements pause for a second, he's sure he's messed up now, but then your scratching picks up again and he breathes out shakily, body twitching at the feeling.

You keep going and going, and he begins moaning softly.

"Is this still okay for you?" The softness of your voice makes his heart melt.

"Mhm..." is all he is able to bring out at the overwhelming sensation of being touched there for the first time.

"Have you been touched here before?"

"N-never..." Renjun whines softly. He's feeling himself harden in his pants, cock straining against the fabric of his jeans and he's sure you noticed.

"Are you a virgin, Renjun?"

The question catches him off guard, but honestly, he's too far gone now to feel shy about it. It seems that you have picked up on how sensitive he is, and he can't really blame you for your assumption. You seem so open and accepting of him that he doesn't even hesitate before slightly nodding his head, "yeah..."

"And you're sure that you want to experience... this with me?"

The feeling of your fingers on his tail intensifies with every second, Renjun feels dizzy, there's barely any blood left in his brain at this point, all of it damming up in his cock and every other sensible part of his body. "yes.. yes...!"

It seems like this is all you needed to hear to speed up your movement, fingertips scratching and petting him in the most arousing way possible, forcing whimpers and moans from his mouth. "Aahh... Ah..." He tries to hold back, but the sensation is too much for him. Your touch is too nice and it's making him lose control as he bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a vocal response, but it's not enough. He's starting to tremble, breath getting heavier as he begins panting harshly. This sensation surely feels very close to how he feels when he's about to cum.

And just the attentive person you are, you speak up about it. "Are you gonna...?"

"I... Aahh... I think so..." He says, his voice shaking as he speaks. "It feels so nice..."

Experimentally, you move your fingers to the underside of his tail, and Renjun's body jolts in pleasure, his whole body jerks as he moans out, mouth slightly open while keeping his voice down as much as possible given your current location. He reaches up and grabs your wrist to make you keep touching him there. "Please..." He says in a thoroughly pleading voice. "Don't stop.."

As he forces his eyes to open, he notices your eyes on him, your face so close to his, and his eyes inevitably dart down to your lips as he gasps for more.

Of course, you take it as an invitation to kiss him, and as soon as your soft lips merge with his, Renjun knows that he's going to cum. He feels like he's actually going to faint as the pleasure reaches new heights, your kiss building the tension up and up, his head spins as he feels himself tighten up.

Your movements quickly send him over the edge. The intensity of the sensation is making his body shudder as he pulls you closer toward him and he lets himself go, muscles tightening even further as he releases into his pants with a high-pitched moan.

Your hands carefully stroke over his tail again, your unoccupied hand coming back up to his hair to help him calm down. He's breathing heavily, body feeling fuzzy inside at the attention and from his intense release. "O-oh, God..."

"That was so hot...," you whisper, gently kissing the top of his head. He lets out a soft giggle. You successfully have made him blush once again. But just as he's really, fully calming down, he inevitably notices the sticky feeling between his thighs and cringes.

You chuckle softly as you notice the look on his face. "Maybe we should get you to a restroom..."

© 2024 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[theygotbitchesinmedia]

okay so here is her review: https://arkadymartine.wordpress.com/2015/09/27/the-traitor-baru-cormorant-a-reviewresponse/

admittedly its from 2015- i haven't poked around to see how she may have changed how she feels about it, and i know she did blurb seth's recent scifi novel (Exordia), so there's no bad blood there or anything. it's also a positive review, in general- she ends with this sentence: "I highly, highly recommend this book; I have not thought so much about something I read in a long time."

i am also coming into this as someone who has read all of seth dickinson's work for the game destiny, where he was near-singlehandedly responsible for a good oh… 80% of the interesting women (& overall interesting concepts lol!) in the game, and his writing of one of those characters in particular as a complex and flawed character got him bullied viciously off of all social media. if you've tried to find his social media presence and havent found anything, that's why. so i mayhaps have a little more emotion in the game.

THAT SAID. here are some specific parts from her review i find really fucking annoying! and color the way i feel about Memory & Desolation, despite them being so incredibly targeted at me as a classics person AND someone who fucking loves the specific sub-genre of scifi her novels are.

"[Traitor] asks a question which I find compelling as a student of an empire and as a queer woman. That question is: what do we gain by complicity? What do we – we barbaroi, we women, we queer people, we imperialized – what do we get when we say yes? When we say yes I will hide my true nature? When we say yes I will subsume myself into the beautiful machine? When we say can we speak English? Or the literature I love just happens to be written by straight white men – and mean it, too, mean it with the kind of depthless love that a person can have for a text that speaks to them, which holds up a mirror to them?"

i dont think the use of the greek word for barbarian does anything here (she also keeps coming back to the greek term orthos in her review, which also pisses me off lol), i dont think empire is a "beautiful machine," and i don't think the invocation of identity politics is useful. like. i know she's a byzantine scholar but if your first association with empire is purely a finite Historical Empire instead of, like, modern US imperialism, or British colonialism, you are going into this discussion with a certain set of values and opinions! a set of values and opinions that let you call an empire a "beautiful machine" in all earnestness. this claim probably seems unsubstantiated and nitpicky now just from this excerpt but ill come back to it with more i promise. on the idpol front, she also says immediately after this that she does believe that straight people can and should write queer people, but that they should listen to queer people when they point out those errors. she then continues:

"But then, critique: there are two points on which I think Dickinson’s portrayal of a queer protagonist has faltered, and I think both of these errors arise from the fact that he isn’t part of – as far as I know at the time of writing this review – a queer community. Firstly, I disbelieve Baru’s awareness of her own desires… …For the first portion of the book, her queerness felt more like a character trait assigned to her for reason of plot than a naturally built part of her as a person… Secondly, I wonder where queer people in Falcrest are…"

theres more to these excerpts, but. i personally didnt find the depiction of baru's desire to be unrealistic, and also this was a review of Traitor, specifically, so where on earth would baru have heard about queer people in falcrest? and more importantly, why should we care so much about queer people in the imperial core? moreover i think the way seth does it with svir is very very well done, and illustrates the hypocrisy of empire in a way that does NOT seem like what martine is asking for here!!!

"Why am I invested? I myself am a student of empire. I’m a Byzantinist. My academic work is about empire and its seductions; it is the animating principle of my professional life. And: I am myself someone who loves order over disorder. Who looks for systems in all things. Who is comforted by structures; who is concerned deeply with propriety. But here’s my real criticism of this book: I don’t buy the seduction of the Masquerade. And I think if this book fails, it’s there: in that its empire is too easily read as undesirable. As profane, unethical, fundamentally wrong. It is really overtly evil." … "The Masquerade isn’t civilized. It’s civilization, but I don’t recognize it as civilized, and this is a problem with a constructed empire. An empire relies on itself as the definition of civilization – I would footnote here Ann Leckie’s Imperial Radch as a SFnal example of an empire which is built on this principle, and which, for this reader at least, achieves the facsimile. (But then my ancestors were not enslaved, we were exterminated; not annexed, but exiled. Perhaps I like the Radch better than the Masquerade because I can find a place for myself in it, and cannot imagine a place within the Masquerade someone like me would ever be safe –)"

and THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE IS MY BIGGEST PROBLEM. critiquing the masquerade as not "seductive" enough, calling it too evil to have people join it- how does someone miss the point THIS badly??? like. are you FUCKING serious??? how do you read a book about the immense violence of colonialism and your problem is that it is boohoo too violent for people to join willingly. google literally fucking anything the US has done ever!!! and the invocation of the concept of "civilized" as an objective quality, despite the recognition that the empire constructs what counts as "civilization" is so fucking unserious/simplistic/juvenile! why do you need to imagine yourself a place in the empire? in the imperial core specifically!

and i think this particular approach bleeds into her books. i read them at Least 2 years ago, so this is mostly vibes-based, and i will avoid spoilers.

there is such a focus on the allure of the imperial core, on the "beautiful machine" of the empire as she calls it. there is violence done, but it is abstracted away from the wealth of the imperial core. there are no economics there. the empire sees her independent station as a backwater, and there is some cultural tensions there, but there is no realistic violence and exploitation! it is not clear at all what maintains the empire, besides some abstract idea of trade. i also don't know what her Point is with the naming & language conventions, which are very clearly inspired in part by ancient Mayan- e.g. the empire and core planet are called Teixcalaan. and idk this may be reductive of me but i think if you are going to pull features from civilizations that have been colonized and use them to inspire fictional colonizing forces, you ARE saying something there! idk! and like, the ancient Mayan

and on the ~representation~ front, i also don't think she does a better job than seth tbqh!!! i felt like the characters getting together came out of nowhere and felt anticlimactic- there is also not the tension i think there should be with the main character being an ambassador-ish and the love interest being… idr. junior intelligence officer iirc? idk! and for all her critique of baru's desire for women not feeling "real" or present enough, i do not remember the main character in Memory having any real focus on it!

i enjoyed Memory just fine, but i don't think it says anything interesting or novel or even critical about empire, and i found her review of Traitor extremely shallow and useless, if very revealing about her own outlook on empire lol!!!

this has been at best Minorly proofread and edited but im not like, writing an academic essay on the matter and so i apologize for any inconsistencies.

oh man thanks for this this is really interesting. i went and read the whole thing and i agree a ton with your critique. i'm going to stick my thoughts below the cut because i went on for a bit here, in typical fashion.

i personally didnt find the depiction of baru's desire to be unrealistic, and also this was a review of Traitor, specifically, so where on earth would baru have heard about queer people in falcrest? and more importantly, why should we care so much about queer people in the imperial core?

NO BUT EXACTLY... for starters this is explicitly a novel about colonized people taking place in a colony where none of the major characters are from the empire. where, when, and how would we take the time to explore what queerness looks like for them and more importantly, like you've asked, why the hell should that be a priority for the narrative in this case.

in terms of 'i found this to be an unrealistic depiction of queer desire' 9/10 times i feel like what that means is 'i found this to be an unrelatable depiction' which is an entirely different critique. i know i'm working with two additional books worth of context that martine isn't working with here. but even taking into account just the characterization we have for baru in traitor i think this is suuuuch an unfair complaint. i'm gonna pull the entire quote she says about baru's sexuality here because i have additional specific gripes with it.

Firstly, I disbelieve Baru’s awareness of her own desires. In the first portion of the book, I do not ever feel the weight of Baru’s own awareness of her sexuality; there is an absence of carnality, a kind of intellectual version of lesbian desire which is, to me, inconsistent with the sort of desire I expect. Not until the introduction of Baru’s eventual lover Tain Hu do I get a sense of Baru as a woman who loves women. Further, considering how very much the Empire of Masks and Increastic philosophy criminalizes the sin of queer desire, I wish Baru had struggled more with the nature of her desire. For the first portion of the book, her queerness felt more like a character trait assigned to her for reason of plot than a naturally built part of her as a person. This markedly improved in the second half, where Baru notices women in a way she does not notice men.

For starters, it is insanely hypocritical to me to complain that her desire both isn't carnal enough and she processes it too intellectually, but that she isn't struggling enough with it. Baru intellectually processes things! That's her entire character from the getgo! She also has a difficult time conceptualizing other people as fully realized beings with their own agency. These character traits paired together don't make for a particularly passionate and carnal relationship to her sexuality. She is also, at her absolute oldest in this book, 21! (Or 22? I can't remember. I know she spends 3 years in aurdwynn) and has spent her entire youth being groomed to be a scholar. Of course detached intellectualism is her primary way of navigating all things. Why wouldn't it be?

Baru primary motivation is to save taranoke, she wants to save the taranoki way of life, and part of that way of life includes an acceptance of nonhetero nonmonogamous relationships. Sure, a different character arc may have involved baru actually internalizing and then having to break free of the trappings of race, gender, and sexuality that the empire tries to impose upon its citizens. but that's not baru and acting like this is a writing flaw rather than a character choice is insane to me.

There's absolutely no reason for Baru to lie awake at night pontificating about how wrong and dirty of her it is to want to have sex with women because we are never lead to believe even for a minute that Baru puts any emotional weight in incrasticism. She doesn't conceptualize it as sinful she conceptualizes it as illegal!

And "Not until the introduction of Baru’s eventual lover Tain Hu do I get a sense of Baru as a woman who loves women. " is killing me in particular because like. Yeah. Tain Hu is baru's first love. thats the point. But beyond that this is just not being able to see anything other than what she's looking for because i think the chapters covering baru's childhood make it pretty clear that her feelings for aminata and cousin lao (im not double checking the name but im pretty sure it was this) are deep and strong. the fact that they're not as explicitly and straightforwardly romantic and sexual as her relationship with tain hu doesn't change that, and in fact, points to baru's struggle with/development of her sexuality that she claims was somehow missing in this book.

like i just simply can't see anything here but someone who is seeing an emotional landscape they can't relate to and assuming that means it's flawed writing. skill issue frankly.

She's also fucking insane for acting like the masquerade is too cartoonishly evil to be appealing. once again im going to post her full quote here because i think its important to see

its empire is too easily read as undesirable. As profane, unethical, fundamentally wrong. It is really overtly evil. It punishes sexual “deviants” with mutilation and death. It murders children callously. It inflicts plague and withholds vaccines. It lobotomizes its own emperors for the sake of convincing its populace that the emperor is just. Most of all, the Masquerade is a eugenicist empire: it is explicitly founded on not purity of bloodline but on purification of bloodline, on making people useful to it. It makes people: it breeds them carefully, it indoctrinates them through schools, it uses drugs and operant conditioning to transform their minds and make them into automata tools. It commits every atrocity that a modern Western reader recognizes as abhorrent. This is a problem. It is a problem because we are asked, as readers, to believe that there are reasons besides blackmail that a person would willingly become an agent of the Masquerade. We are asked to imagine that the Masquerade is a beautiful machine.

for starters. "It commits every atrocity that a modern Western reader recognizes as abhorrent." MODERN WESTERN EMPIRES DID, AND OCCASIONALLY STILL DO, MOST OF THESE THINGS!!! THIS IS US! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!! I FEEL INSANE!!!!

I think the book makes it more than explicitly clear why the empire is appealing??? it has all of the capital???? its building schools and sewage systems and importing food and goods and teaching reading and writing??? baru's own internal narrative often shows her own strife at the fact that the empire has made genuinely incredible scientific advancements that offer significant improvements in quality of life to many, many people. martine actually acknowledges this in the next paragraph of her review, and then brushes it away as not being good enough. why? what about that doesn't convince you?

she is seeming to hugely ignore the fact that in the case of aurdwynn specifically, the bureaucracy of the empire is coming in to unseat feudal aristocracy! what the masquerade offers may not be particularly tempting to most of that ruling class, but its economic opportunities are more then believably appealing to the common people. i think this is made pretty clear when baru's ploy to use the fiat bank to make loans to the aurdwynni people and basically lessen the massive tax burdens from the duchies wins her huge favor with the public.

and frankly even for the ruling class the potential economic benefits are massive too if you're willing to participate in the empire properly. yes the empire doesn't have Moral appeal. it doesn't fucking have to. it owns pretty much every economy outside of the oriati mbo. the fact that that's not enough for her is as you've pointed out really really showing her biases and blind spots. 'no reason besides blackmail' MONEY!!!! MONEY! IT'S MONEY! THIS IS A BOOK ABOUT ACCOUNTING! HOW DID YOU MISS THAT!!!

and the invocation of the concept of "civilized" as an objective quality, despite the recognition that the empire constructs what counts as "civilization" is so fucking unserious/simplistic/juvenile! why do you need to imagine yourself a place in the empire? in the imperial core specifically!

And this is really it for me too, yeah. It's gross. It's absolutely gross. "An empire isn't believably appealing unless I, personally, find it appealing" there are people alive who are eugenicists, who love community policing, who believe in race science. the masquerade is an empire for them. the thing about empires is that they are only actually empowering for an incredibly small subset of people, and the fact that You, Specifically, Arkady Martine can't imagine being one of those people in this instance doesn't make it not believable. This is a shatteringly individualist way of engaging with a work.

As for your points about the way she handles empire in her own book obviously i can't have anything to say there because i haven't read it yet, but i do absolutely agree with you on this bit:

and idk this may be reductive of me but i think if you are going to pull features from civilizations that have been colonized and use them to inspire fictional colonizing forces, you ARE saying something there! idk! and like, the ancient Mayan

1000% i don't think this is reductive of you. whether or not you're consciously saying anything is one question but it's a choice that absolutely doesn't exist in a vacuum. out of curiosity i googled her to see if she was of mayan descent or anything and maybe she chose that due to some personal ties to the subject matter but she doesn't seem to be. which of course i don't think means she can't or shouldn't draw any inspiration from there but i do think all of these sorts of choices are meaningful

i don't really have much to say here to round off a conclusion but. wow. deeply deeply telling review that does not particularly make me want to read anything she has written beyond this.

[king-shango-the-great]

Shango's Thoughts:

Stop mixing & matching spiritual ideas (New Age Nonsense is Still Nonsense)

So, can we talking about how this is NOT a 3rd Eye?

Just because you see a singular eye, does not make it a 3rd Eye by default.

This is actually the Eye of Ra & it's actually the right eye. It's paired (pair = 2) with the Eye of Heru which is the left Eye.

The Eyes are actually Falcon eyes, because both the deities to whom these eyes belong are sky deities, both represented by the falcon. That is because the falcon not only has excellent eyesight, but it soars far above any & everything else, which allowed them to see farther than any other living creature..

One eye represents divine insight, the other represents divine foresight.

As an African society, Ancient Kemet (Egypt) was a nature-based society.

This is important, because, like all African societies (ancient & modern), they did not deviate from the divine principles of nature. In fact, they revered, & was greatly inspired & empowered by it. This was greatly reflected in their symbology.

As such, they understood that there neither was, nor is, any creature in nature that possesses an odd number of eyes. Every creature has an amount of eyes that are divisible by 2.

The idea of 3 eyes in African culture & Spirituality would therefore be seen as unnatural.

So where does the idea of the 3rd Eye come from?

It comes from Hinduism & Buddhism.

I've mentioned this a few times on my page, but whenever I see people (especially Black people, as that's essentially all I care about 🤷🏿‍♂️) talking about 3rd Eyes, & especially using the All-Seeing eye(s) as a visual representation of the 3rd Eye, I automatically know it's being done out of ignorance.

The reality is, most Black people don't know enough about Hindu beliefs, the nuances of their culture, nor their language to glean any real spiritual benefit from this concept. The proof of this lies in 2 points:

1) If they did, they wouldn't be mixing & blending it with African Spiritual concepts, &

2) They'd know that India is a very anti-African culture & society.

Not to mention, the meanings of the "Eye" in both cultures do not run congruent. Their meanings are not remotely similar.

So, how did Black folks get this notion of the 3rd Eye in the first place?

The answer is both complex & simple.

Hindus don't teach it, because A) they are very insular about their culture, & B) they wouldn't teach it to black people, because Hindus are extremely anti-Black.

I know Black folks like to make the false Pseudo claim that India & Africa are culturally linked, but nothing could be further from the truth (I've spoken many times on here about this; refer to my posts under "#Shango's Thoughts").

The simplest answer is, it came from white people.

Without going into great detail (at least, not at this time): The New Age Movements that were sparked by white people from Europe, as early as the 1930's.

These white people were seld proclaimed "mystics" that dabbled in all sorts of spiritual ideas, that made their way to the US when these same Crackas migrated to the US.

Many of them were affiliated with the Nazis, which is where they got their hatred of Black people. As an example of the correlation, that's why you see the swastika as the symbol of Nazism.

One such white "mystic" was Helena Blavastky:

This is the "mother" of New Age Spirituality (along with a few others of her ilk).

What's sad, is that alot of her ideas influenced everyone from Hitler to many of the Black spiritual movements in Amerikkka, from. The NOI, to 5% Nation of God's & Earth's, to the Nuwaubians, to the Moors, & a few others. Most of them don't even realize it, because they are not academic enough to make the connections.

I could go deeper into this now, but I won't (again, not at this time). The bottom line is, you can talk about how terrible these people are all you want, but the truth is, yall get all your "info" from them.

Suffice it to say, most Black people have been convinced to take part in ideas like Chakras & 3rd Eyes (& other related concepts, such as "Pineal glands"; again, not an African concept) because they've been influenced by white people.

Ideas like chakras, 3rd Eyes, Angel numbers, tarot cards, & a host of other concepts that have caught on in the past 50yrs are nothing but recycled racist notions. They have nothing to do with African culture or Spirituality.

Europe, France, Italty, Austria, Germany.... You haven't seen a Black face or name yet. 🙄

I cannot tell anyone not to hold fast to these ideas; you are free to do whatever you wish. But I can tell you one thing....

Whites & Hindus are laughing at us when we regurgitate these ideas.

I can also tell you why I do not adhere to them..... They are not from our Ancestors. They are from our enemies. Any religion that comes from your enemy (be it directly or indirectly) has no spiritual power for you. It is a weapon against you.

The proof of this, lies in the fact that none of these ideas have done NOTHING for us. That's because they're not meant to. It's like a white person buying a pick for their hair.

It was designed FOR the people it was designed BY.

I look to my Ancestors, & the traditions that they created. And 3rd Eyes & Chakras were not one of them.

Asé 🙏🏿

[megoomy]

got a request for my vesperia berseria au designs and i do have character sheets for them so: everyone is free to draw these if they want! credit is nice but, well, these all heavily reference official tales designs so i dont want to take too much credit for them lol. you can also write about the au and take any amount of what we've come up with, i really don't care, it's all for fun.

UNDER THE CUT: a vague summary of the concept. warning for Profound Self Indulgence and Somewhat Half-Assed Worldbuilding (world...changing? world editing? whatever)

okay basically flynn and yuri met as kids in a village that basically serves as the lower quarter of the au, but after spending a few years together daemons attack the village and nearly everyone dies. yuri survives, but in the process he’s become a daemon. flynn also survives, but is deeply traumatized and gets picked up by the exorcists (conveniently too late to save anyone in typical form). neither knows the other survived. to make matters worse, flynns trauma causes some memory loss…he still definitely remembers that time in the village but its very fuzzy now and as he gets older that only gets worse. and like he thinks all those people died so hes not really trying to remember them.

flynn becomes an exorcist (some flavor of legate) and is going around eradicating daemons when he runs into yuri. he doesnt recognize yuri but yuri is pretty sure he recognizes flynn. but yuri isnt about to say that when flynn is trying to kill him LOL. the general arc is that yuri keeps slipping away and flynn keeps seeing more about him in his efforts to hunt him down, realizing that this strikingly handsome strangely familiar daemon is actually...very kind? takes care of children? helps people for no gain? and this calls into question everything that he thought he understood about the world which is quite troubling.

you can think of them as similar to velvet and eleanor. but I think when flynn joins yuri it's by choice, not because yuri's forced him to be a vessel or because flynn's a spy or anything like that. or at least, he's been thrown out by the abbey for one reason or another and joins yuri instead. (we've tossed around quite a few versions of this. we love playing in the space.)

we've bounced around ideas about the rest of the cast but i only have a sheet for estelle, who is a malak controlled by the abbey ala phi. assigned to flynn, ends up with yuri one way or another. i think rita sees that malaks are people and while she wants to coordinate with them to use their strength she doesn't like how they're treated as tools (the way she feels about blastia more or less).

if you're curious about why flynn and yuri have different fates, like, in terms of lore compliance. i think yuri seeing the thing he holds most dear, the community that cared for him, destroyed in an instant, would probably fill him with malevolence no matter what, especially depending on the circumstances. (like, if the abbey was manipulating things to create daemons or therions) yuri's like...a deeply conflicted character full of self loathing, so, being a daemon really suits him. i think that malevolence would only grow as he sees the world and the abbey for what it really is. unlike someone like rose, yuri NEVER feels unconflicted about Doing Murders.

flynn in canon is pretty conflicted himself of course but i see him as similar to eleanor who can sometimes produce malevolence but has a certain purity of heart that keeps them as pretty good vessel material. nowhere near someone like sorey or rose, and definitely wouldn't have had enough resonance pre-artorius' plot to see anything. also i think the brain trauma and being picked up by the abbey leads to him having very clear purpose and a black and white view for some time, so that helps. (look, let me be real with you, half of the impetus for this au was "it would be funny if flynn had like, religious trauma")

design notes not on the sheets: - yuri's daemonblighted skin is cooler to the touch than his regular skin. but he's a guy with cold hands regardless - i've got purple highlights in his eyes but i think of them as glinting purple in the light. like an animal i guess? - yuri's outfit is mostly inspired by his spirit gear in rays, aside from his normal game canon outfit. - estelle is pulling from a lot of different abbey associated characters but mostly her own design...i didn't want to give her something weird like A FUCKING COLLAR especially bc she's not given to A WEIRDO EXORCIST but i wanted some kind of symbol of captivity so i went instead for a golden mask. pulling from the common malak's gold mask/helmets and seres' mask. in canon a lot of estelle's arc is about being sheltered so i feel like covering her eyes feels, appropriate? idk. - i think yuri still gives estelle her nickname but she wouldn't start out as estellise so its more like yuri gives her a name - you may notice she has the flame of purification (does that have a different proper name? blanking on it) which kind of implies that she's connected to innominat. please don't ask me to elaborate on that point because i literally don't know yet. i think if i were to make her a normal elementally aligned malak she'd be water like her spirit gear in rays, but it feels like she should be Special just like how she's a child of the full moon in canon. we just, haven't really figured out, does the berseria cast still exist, are we replacing them, what would that look like, etc. sorry that stuff should be more important to the concept but we are simply playing with the dolls. teehee

[lovelybrooke]

Hey, can you do romantic yandere sally face headcanons especially when they realize they're in love with the reader?

Yandere Sally Face Concept

There aren't any good Sally Face gifs so no gif for this one. This is going to be based on this act I got a while ago, you don't have to read it to understand it but just in case.

I've been watching Invincible so that's what's been taking up all my time, sorry.

Tw: for general talks of death and hints to murder (including child murder). Please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable.

masterlist

---

Life was always hard for you. From a young age you started to see things. Shapes of things that weren't there, people that would disappear a second after you saw them. When you were little you thought you were special, that this--thing--made you different. But as you got older, you started to regret that feeling. 

You were ten years old when you realized that the people you were seeing were dead people. A little girl appeared in your room, her hair nappy and long. Her skin was pale white, covered in bruises, and there was a large red mark on her head. You were scared, terrified even, but the only thing that kept you from calling out for your parents were her cries. She cries for her mom, for her dad, and for help. They were so loud, so overwhelming, that eventually you couldn't take it. You cried and cried until your voice went raw, your parent's couldn't even console you. 

The next few years were filled with doctor visit after doctor visit, all which didn't help. You kept seeing the same things, hearing the desperate cries of people from beyond. Your parent's tried to help, but there was only so much they could do. Eventually, you got used to it, you even made some friends out of these ghosts, the ones that weren't as mean. Your parents, however, remained concerned. They were scared of what was happening to their child, of the things they were seeing. They didn't know what to do, so they thought a fresh start would be the best option. 

Nockfell was a small town, and you were just about to start a new year of school. Maybe you would make some new friends, maybe you'd forget about all these silly little things you were seeing. Moving was relatively easy, it was a distraction to everything, something else to focus on. Your parents encouraged you to make friends when you first moved to Addison, but it was hard. You were always shy, couldn't relate to other kids for...obvious reasons. Your parent's never pressured you but it worried them. 

All good things come to an end, however, and eventually, you started seeing them again. It didn't help that you moved in during a murder investigation, it felt as though everywhere you turned spirits were popping up left and right. It got to the point where they were your only friends, meeting a little girl named Megan who reminded you of the one you met all those years ago. That's how you met Sally. 

It was awkward at first, it's hard meeting someone while talking to a ghost in a bathroom, but eventually you two bonded. You both knew what it was like, to feel ostracized. You never asked about his prosthetic, you just...accepted him for who he was, he liked that. One day, Sally introduced you to Larry, his other friend. Larry was more open than Sal, in nearly every way. But you understood why they got along so well. It wasn't just the music or the hobbies, they both understood each other in a deep way, in a unique way. 

Explaining to the both of them that you saw dead people was definitely...not fun. It was when Larry took you to his treehouse for the first time. Sal came with, and at first, it was fun. It was the first time you laughed in--years. But then, it was like a chill ran up your spine and suddenly you couldn't breathe. The treehouse felt small as you struggled to catch your breath. For a second, it felt like there was someone else with you three, and it terrified you. You spend the next hour explaining everything to them, and honestly, if they were anyone else, you probably would be out two friends. 

You spend the few weeks before school helping them with their goal to figure out what happened to Mrs. Sanderson. It was weird, spending your days searching for a murder, just to go home and pretend like nothing weird was happening. Your parent's thought you were getting better, which you were. Sal and Larry eventually introduced you to their other fiends, Todd and Ashley. Todd was more quiet than the others, and you related a lot to him on that part, while Ashley and you tended to draw together. For the first time in your life, you had actual friends and a community. 

Growing up with them, your dynamics changed slowly. High school was difficult, it always was, but it was nice having people there to keep you safe. Larry never let anyone make fun of you, and Sal was always there to comfort you. Ashley was always the one you went to when times got tough mentally. She'd sit and talk to you for hours, and she'd listen. You and Todd would study a lot together, and he'd rant to you about whatever new thing he's making. 

But things got weird, around the time Sal showed you his face for the first time. It was a random night when you were hanging out in your room when he told you he wanted to show you his face. He was obviously really nervous, stuttering and talking quietly. You accepted and told him to do whatever he was comfortable with, and a few moments later, he took off his mask. It definitely was awkward, but you thanked him for feeling comfortable enough around you to share this with you, you couldn't even finish before he hugged you. You should've known something about your relationship would change after that. 

You think Sal told Larry what happened that night, because you talked about it the next day at school. He thanked you for being so kind to him, that Sal was building up the courage for weeks to share that with you. After that, you were almost always with the two, and if you were alone, Sal never had his Mask on. He told you he felt comfortable around you and Larry. You slept over at both of their apartments all the time, spending all night listening to music, catching the two staring at you for a little two long. 

As you got older, you and your friends only got closer. You moved in with Todd and Sal after graduation, and while you were sad to see Ash go, it was nice knowing she was following her dreams. Even while away, she talked with you all the time over the phone, and would even sometimes send letters detailing how school was going. Even though you were older, you still occasionally dealt with seeing ghosts. Someone was always there for you, but it was still always a shock when you saw them. It was better though, now that you were out of the apartments, but it still lingered. It didn't help that you could tell something changed between you, Sal, and Larry. They whispered to each other when you were around, shared looks. They were touchy even, and it confused you. Somedays you wanted to go back to how things were when you were children, but some days, you liked the change.

---

A/n: I didn't add stuff from the later acts (the cult stuff) since it would be too much and I don't want another Hazbin Hotel situation.

[creatingblackcharacters]

FAQs!

I go by Ice, she/her pronouns 💕. In case you had any of these questions, here you go:

1. "Why'd you make this page?"

I want to make the creation space- fandom to professional- more inclusive for people that look like me.

It is very disheartening when you really like something, and you see that oh! It's going to include a Black character! And then you get that character and... They're subpar. Especially in comparison to the usually white characters that have so much thought put into them. You accept them because you REALLY want that rep, but... We deserve to wholeheartedly accept our characters too, no ehhs about it.

I wanted to challenge myself, using my amateur art skills and my teaching skills, to convey to creators how that makes us feel, and little things they can do to more intentionally create their Black characters. There's more to us than adding to a diversity quota.

2. "So you aren't even a professional?"

I got 27.5 years of being a Black person on my resume 🤣 jokes aside, I am a self teaching artist. It's only been about a year for me. My more specific goal here is to use my skills to convey a perspective change towards Blackness, not necessarily a "how to do". If you want to learn the specific how-to's of drawing Black characters, there are Black artists all over Tumblr and the web that can show you. I actively encourage you to go check them out and support them, it's a great way to learn as well as to support our community!

3. "But if you're not a professional, why should I trust you?"

Well, again, because I don't have to be a professional to recognize when supposedly Black characters... Don't look like me 😅. Or, in writing, don't have any thought about me behind them. I could show my 87 year old Grandma some art and she'd recognize the issues.

But also, I personally believe that if you start from the foundations thinking about intentionally creating your Black characters, it'll make it much easier for you moving into the future. I am holding my hand out as a Black peer to HELP YOU! There are professional video games and art pieces and projects out there with poorly designed Black characters. The concept clearly needs to be introduced to the people somewhere before a million dollar project is release 🤣 But I can't talk to the people at the AAA studios. I can talk to you!

4. "I don't think race matters/should matter."

Alas, it does, everything we do is affected by our beliefs unconsciously or not- but I'm not going to waste my time and argue with you. This blog isn't for you 🤷🏾‍♀️ this blog is for those who want to take that first step to be better, both as creators and as people. 👍🏾

5. "Do you support AI?"

Not in the arts. Learn how to draw and/or write, it's very fulfilling.

6. "Do you answer asks?"

I do! However, this is a lesson based page, more than an ask based page. If I think your ask can be answered by one of my lessons, I'll refer you to that lesson. If it's an ask that's relevant to something coming up, I will answer it, but you will find more detail in the lesson coming up! I'm only one person doing this, and I can't answer every singular scenario. Also, keep in mind, if you ask me my opinion on something, I will be fair, but honest!

7. Will you be turning on anons?

Okay: right now, we've earned Anon Office Hours Wednesday thru Friday 12:30-6:30pm EST!

Most of this is due to the nature of what I'm discussing. Historically, these topics (and how race is relevant) upset some people, and it can get unsafe. Personally, I have no intention of allowing racists, or those who will take my advice in bad faith, to hide their faces. If you want to hate me, speak with your chest 😤👍🏾

The other part is that it is not a bad thing to ask questions! I did create this blog to be a learning opportunity. So long as you are kind to me and send me asks in good faith, I will be kind to you and reply in good faith. I'm also pretty sure I have the option to answer privately, so if you don't want your question posted publicly, You can say that.

If I get more questions, I'll update this!

[scretladyspider]

“Why is there a need for microlabels like demisexual or gray ace? Isn’t that just the asexuality spectrum? Why not just say you’re asexual?”

Let’s talk about the asexuality spectrum and why specificity in labels under asexuality can make a difference—

Asexuality refers to “little to no sexual attraction”. For some aces (short for asexuals), the ‘no sexual attraction’ part of that definition completely serves their needs in a queer label. This is the definition most unfamiliar with asexuality immediately think of.

And I want to be clear that that’s great! It’s a wonderful thing that there’s a word for ‘no sexual attraction’ and that we have more resources addressing this difference as a sexual orientation. Labels are tools. If you find one you like, that resonates with you, use it!

The expectation for sexual attraction is ever present. In the words of Alice Olivia Scarlett, “Love without sex is a difficult concept for society…there are still people who believe that sex is a biological need of the same importance as food and water.”

Our world demands sexual attraction — most often cisgender, heterosexual, heteroromantic attraction to the opposite gender. This expectation exists in queer spaces also, even if gender and sexual orientation are less rigid. Asexuality proudly counters that.

Celebrating differences in a world that says you shouldn’t exist is literally life saving. According to Healthline, “a 2019 study found that LGBTQ people who reported more connectedness to the LGBTQ community were less likely to report suicidal behavior.”

Returning to the definition of asexuality: there are people with no sexual attraction who are served by that part of the definition. They are the black stripe on the asexual flag. There are four stripes —black, gray, white, and purple.

That gray stripe allows for the spectrum, for those experiences that may include rare and/or conditional sexual attraction. This is the reason the definition includes “little to” in its “little to no sexual attraction”. Asexuality with an asterisk, an exception.

In 2003, AVEN founder David Jay proposed semisexual:

“If anyone wants to play a fun game, go to some queer-ass conference (called something like “transcending boundaries”) and play a game where you try to think up a term/identity for every letter of the alphabet. When you do you’ll be forced to think up new, interesting ideas like: Semisexual. It occurs to me that we’ve got a spectrum of sexual intensity, but we don’t yet have a word for those who are halfway in between asexual and full-force sexual. I’d say that this is extremely important: right now we don’t have a way to talk about people who are asexual but maybe feel like being sexual once a year, or sexual people who are just relatively uninterested and don’t know what to do about it. Thoughts?”

This lead to further discussion on asexuality being viewed as a spectrum. In 2006, AVEN forum user KSpaz coined the term “gray A” to refer to a “fuzzy” connection to asexuality. Many others related to this “fuzzy” experience and it became accepted as graysexual/gray ace:

“Alright, so don't know if this term is already around, but if not, I'm coining it now.Gray-A. Is there really a line at which point you are asexual?According to our logo there isn't. Just fuzziness.So, this thread I dedicate to our fuzzy members who may sometimes feel unsure of their asexuality/sexuality.Share your views, stories, whatever makes you think you'd like to call yourself Gray-A.I'll start:In simple terms, I have hetero attractions, can experience physical pleasure, and am indifferent (as opposed to repulsed) to the idea of having sex if it is with someone I care for (though can't imagine it for any situation without utmost trust involved). I don't get turned on and jump my boyfriend, but will respond to him in touchy ways and am pleased to do so willingly, because it does feel nice. If we never had sex, I would have no problem. But if we do some day, I probably won't mind, and may enjoy it to a degree. I call myself asexual, because I am, and because I choose my label.

In February 2006, the user sonofeazel coined the term ‘demisexual’, writing in a thread about their experiences,

…If “sexual” is for both and “asexual” is for neither, maybe we need a new term for people who only have one but not the other? I propose “demisexuals”.

In 2008, OwlSaint proposed the idea of what we now refer to as demisexual, which is when someone would only experience sexual attraction under the circumstance of a close emotional bond.

A demisexual is, in my book at least, someone who does not experience sexual attraction to people in general. I’ve yet to see a single person and think “hot” or “10 out of 10” or “I’d like to hit that”. Sex with someone rarely crosses my mind and when it does it’s usually more along the lines of “could i force myself to with…. ew no”. In that respect, I can and do identify as asexual. However, with someone I’m in love with, it’s completely different, and I might as well be a “full fledged” sexual, but only with that one person. Full fledged meaning actually desiring sex, both for the physical and emotional aspect, being attracted to that special someone, and feeling sexual arousal in terms of wanting to do something on multiple levels instead of simply the biological reflex or “ugh not again”.

Without that “little to” part of the definition of the “little to no sexual attraction” definition of asexuality, there are a lot of people who really wouldn’t have a word for what they are. Asexual would almost fit, but feel like a shrunken sweater; something’s not quite right.

When you almost belong somewhere but don’t entirely, it can feel very isolating. Like you’re not doing “you” right. This is where that specificity comes into play. It gives room for those in that gray space to breathe, a seat at the table when before there was just standing room.

In the words of blogger Siggy in 2012, a self identified gray ace,

Lots of people come to the asexual community, find lots of experiences to identify with, and are glad to finally have a word to describe themselves. But some of those people will feel that they don’t technically fit into the definition of asexual. Are these people supposed to abandon the possibility of a self-identity because of a technicality? Are they to permanently feel like outsiders to the asexual community?

“Gray-A” is a solution to these questions. A gray-A is someone who finds asexuality to be a useful idea, in the sense that it approaches a self-description, even if it does not quite fit. This allows a space where you can have an identity, fit on the ace spectrum, and feel at home in your community, without being disqualified by an arbitrary definition.

There are many, many terms under the asexuality spectrum that delve into specific experiences, some of which go into the gray area and some that do not but that still describe a very specific experience. There is an effort to put language to the unknown, to be better understood.

Even within those served by the definition of no sexual attraction, there is nuance to language discussing specific relationships to sex and sexuality. Terms that describe individual favorability towards sex, or that describe importance of tertiary attraction, for example.

This thread focused on demisexual and graysexual because they’re more widely used. But it’s worth noting these labels do not serve everyone who exists in that in between space. Here is an expanded list of asexuality spectrum labels by asexuals.net.

I personally also use “gray ace” or just “ace” if I don’t feel like explaining myself. But that’s just me. Everyone is different. Everyone is served by different pieces of language and labels. Some are served best by no labels at all. There’s no wrong way to label your aceness.

Labels are magnets on your queer fridge. You can put as many on there as you feel are right for you, and if you stop liking one, you can take it off and stick it in your magnet drawer.

And that gray area? It matters. If you belong in it, you are welcome in ace spaces. I promise.

if you liked this post you can support me on patreon this pride month 🏳️‍🌈

[portraitofadumbassonfire]

Thots On NOPE (SPOILERS)

I get why this is divisive, but, Jordan Peele has constantly described the themes of the film as dealing with Spectacle. He is 1000% right, but I personally think that the themes have even moreso to do with exploitation.

When it comes to Ricky or "Jupe" I've seen so many reviewers saying that subplot had nothing to do with the film as whole, but it did in a VERY haunting way.

When Ricky is talking about the SNL skit that parodied a traumatic time in his life, he recalls it like a well executed comedy sketch. Then it cuts back to him hiding under the table.

I've seen so many videos online that have some sort of attention-grabbing title, regardless if it's accurate to what you will actually see, but the OP is aware of what makes people click on what's to be supposedly promised in the title or the thumbnail. They know what will attract a crowd. Not to be too graphic, but even porn videos will do the same thing, anything to get clicks & clout.

When Ricky starts the show promising a spectacle, he's used to the reaction he gets, hence why he always does the show showing off the "aliens" at 8:00 PM. Or at least practices the show at night, but the reason he does probably has to do with the "aliens" showing up at that specific time, hence why it's the first time we see activity from the supposed "aliens". (When we see the lights from the show when the sun is down in the first few scenes of the film. We don't know if it's rehearsal or just another show of his.)

He's willing to risk the possibility of an attack from a wild animal like the supposed UFO because he dealt with the attack from Gordy. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. (like the shoe standing upright, which could be the "bad miracle" OJ refers to) He truly thought he could handle the intensity of the "alien ship" since he survived the attack and lived to tell the tale. He developed some kind of God complex that he could work around the danger of a "trained animal". His wife even said "Even trained animals can be unpredictable."

The people on set with Lucky are a great example. Who the hell stands behind a horse as an adult? Who's the genius who had different chimpanzees for a T.V. show with 0 wranglers? There are still people whom are dumb enough to go to the zoo and go over safety barriers, taunt the animals, or even hold their children close from any danger.

It's ironic how people are very obsessed with the concept of aliens, but if too many people can't handle creatures from earth, what makes us think we can handle the ones not from here?

The stars of the SNL skit straight up mocked a heavily disturbing moment in his childhood, yet he's still profiting off of the moment where this kids dress up as aliens to scare his neighbors as a joke and an intimidation tactic. (notice how their alien costumes look also like ape costumes)

Plus he said he was getting paid by people to sleep in a memorabilia room referencing multiple violent deaths on a TV set. Even with Oprah herself, when she interviewed the woman who was attacked by a chimpanzee and got her face ripped off, people in the comments criticize her for exploiting the woman instead of talking about how she moved on from the spectacle of a tragedy.

For the Haywoods, they're trying to uphold a legacy, they're the only black-owned horse trainers and their great great great-grandfather is someone whom had not been credited for their work as the first motion picture captured. For Emerald to be the one who captured a picture of alien proof as the descendant is SOOOO symbolic.

The cinematographer, Antlers, a white man played perfectly by Michael Wincott, didn't like the lighting in the shot he took so he took the risk to get a perfect shot. The TMZ biker had a whole helmet that reflected everything around him because who else would be obsessed with getting all of the chaos around them than TMZ? (The same publication that somehow managed to know that Beyoncé was filming the music video for "XO" & announces celebrity deaths before the family even gets a chance to.)

I've seen videos of so many disturbing events before, during, or after the fact that I can see what Mr. Peele was going for in commentating on. There's an infamous tiktok showcasing someone in the middle of a near plane crash I've seen reposted on Twitter, there's footage of a bear and a cougar in a circus attacking their supposed "trainers", talk show footage of a lion going after a toddler & almost biting the poor child it was sitting next to, the frozen and preserved bodies of those who've tried do climb Mt. Everest, and I've even seen a man who documented himself after getting graphically attacked by two grizzly bears. Yet the views on those videos reach the millions.

There's so many times a fucked up or upsetting moment in time has been exploitated to the point where it can be made a joke, a traumatic scene, or a topic of discussion, and that for me is what NOPE was commentating on. Some will not catch on with one viewing, but I recommend a second, or even third watch to fully get what's being told.

Films like that, that have a longer shelf life are what inspire me. It's a rarity that a filmmaker chooses to give their audience a challenge.

[olderthannetfic]

Apparently my fanfic helped someone in my readership realize he's agender because reading about a character who has zero attachment to the concept of gender, does not feel like any gender, doesn't care about pronouns being used for them and wants to dress any way they want without anyone gendering it really resonated with him and he did some soul-searching afterwards. And I love that for him, truly, I do. But what surprised me is that he really thought that "everybody but trans people" didn't like being associated with a gender, didn't feel like any gender, didn't care about pronouns and didn't have any attachment to the idea of gender. He thought we were all just going along with it because it's just what you do in society and everyone actually felt roughly the same as he did about it.

I was surprised, because although I'm neurodivergent, I had inferred fairly early on in life that people are pretty attached to these things on a genuine level. So I asked him how he arrived at that conclusion and he said that the way his very conservative, Republican family - which is mostly men, he was raised by his dad and grandfather, alongside his brothers - talked about being a man made it sound like an awful, arduous task that you have shoved onto you and can't escape but being a woman also sucked in similar ways according to them. Thus he arrived at the conclusion that nobody actually likes being a gender, you just have to put up with being one. And the fact that he had to put up with it was immensely depressing to him because he hated both of what he perceived as the available options.

Somehow my dinky little Reader POV fanfic where I made the Reader Character agender because I dislike how many Reader fics portray being an AFAB person who identifies as a woman... that little fanfic, without any ships in it, without any deep lore dives, without the things that this fandom usually likes, managed to plunge this reader into total gender euphoria because it made him pluck up the courage to wear something pink, let him know you don't have to be a man or a woman, and told him you're not a bad NB if you use any pronouns and you're AMAB.

And like... I know fandom is a shitty, hostile place a lot of the time. Especially in my fandom, it's a disaster. But reading the mountain of text he posted about how in the two weeks since he realized he's agender, his depression has lessened so much and he hasn't thought about suicide once... I think I remember why I got into writing in the first place, now. It's not just to tell fun stories. It's to tell fun stories about people that don't conform to the white cishetallo culturally Christian secular middle class able-bodied cookie-cutter bullshit that media is still drowning in. Because sometimes somebody is drowning and they think it's mandatory and fiction can tell them, "It's not, actually."

Nobody I know IRL likes the idea of fanfic because why write if you're not going to make money from it? But honestly I feel like this kind of moment has a value money can't really produce.

Sorry, I know I'm rambling. I just thought I'd briefly provide a small break from the sea of negativity in your inbox to share how fanfic and fandom can be good, instead of always being bad, as is so often the way fandom gets framed these days.

--

[strangerthings64]

Eddie Munson x F Reader

Warnings: Mention of bad parents, and bad boyfriends. Yeah nothing else really just LOTS of fluff!

Word Count: 1k+

Description: Reader realizes she's in love with Eddie after he ties her shoes for the first time. So she starts making it a habit of walking with her shoe untied for him to tie and he catches on.

A/N:  I saw this concept of Eddie stopping to tie Reader's shoes and I just had to make a fic about this because if that ain't love, I don't know what is!! 💕🥺

(P.S I also listened to this song while writing this and the part where he says “thought I could live without romance, until you came to me.” omg that part was so good I love Elvis’s music!!)

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(y/n)’s Pov

If someone had told me I'd end up falling in love with my best friend,  Eddie "The Freak" Munson I'd call them crazy, but here I was standing with my arms full of books and Eddie suddenly stopping me,  getting down on his knees and tying my shoes.

"Your gonna fall and break a tooth if you keep walking around like this Sweetheart," he said chuckling as you stare at him wide-eyed, mouth gaping a bit.

"No, I'd never fall in love with anyone ever, people disappoint me." I had told Eddie time and time again when he would ask me during our lunch at our "secret table” in the woods. He’d ask me if I had a crush on anyone in the school and he always got the same answer but yet he still seemed to ask at least once a month.

No, I'd never fall in love... But here I was staring at him as he tied my left shoe, then my right, and then looked up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and pearly white smile. And suddenly my heart was beating a thousand miles per hour, with no signs of slowing down. And my hands were getting clammy, the books in my arms threatening to fall but no way in hell was I about to let them fall and hit Eddie's beautiful face.

"You good, (y/n/n)?" he asked, standing up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"U..Um, Yeah I'm fine just a bit lost in thought" you replied giving him a small smile, he nods.

"Then shall we get to class?" 

"Yup let's go Eds"

----------

Ever since that moment with Eddie a few months ago, I've been falling head over heels for him and I wanted more than anything to be his, but to ask him was to face rejection and I sucked with rejection. Plus I was sure he didn't like me he was always very flirtatious with a lot of people he had been that way even when I first met him two years ago.

But it wasn't gonna stop me from loving him. Almost every couple of days for the last four months Eddie would stop, get down on his knees and tie my shoe never minding or finding it annoying that I always somehow had my shoes untied.

And when he did it, my heart would flutter like a thousand butterflies in an open field. God if only he knew what he did to me. If only he knew how quickly I'd fallen for him, despite never really feeling like this before it felt like I have loved him my whole life. Yes I've had a few boyfriends before but they were just heartbreakers, never staying for long.

But with Eds it was different, He is different than the rest of them. He cares about me like no other,  always going out of his way to make sure I was happy and taken care of. Knowing how my home life was and how it wasn't always the best and how cruel my family could be and how low they could make me feel. He always made sure I felt the exact opposite of that.

I don't know why it took me so long to fall in love with him it wasn't like I didn't find him attractive, he’s always been beautiful and I’ve always notice how kind he was despite being see as the complete opposite. Everything about him was inviting so why did it take me this long to realize I love him? I think maybe it was just my guarded heart, but somehow he managed to melt this heart of iron.

And God if he ever found out why my shoes were always untied I swear I'd just pass away right then and there, definitely a good thing he hasn't caught on yet which meant I could continue to do it without any suspicion from him. 

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

Eddie's Pov

Four months ago I had gotten down on my knees in front of (y/n) to tie her shoes so she wouldn't fall, and I gotta admit it was one of the best decisions I had ever made. Because here I was now, walking down the halls and there she was again walking down the halls with her miss-matched socks peeking out and her untied shoes, her eyes glued to the book in her hands. And I swear she was the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

And This was the four-time in the last week that I'd seen her with untied shoes. Ever since she'd walked around with her shoes untied that day, it had started to be a common occurrence. she'd never been this way before but i was like suddenly she had a longing for face planting and getting hurt.

Eventually, I caught onto her schemes and plans very early on. I had one day overheard her friend Robin talking to Dustin in the hallways, about how she was purposely untying her shoes so I could tie them for her whenever I'd spot her throughout the day. I'll admit It was a bit confusing and I didn't know why she did it, but the girl I've been in love with since the day I met her, wanted me to tie her shoes, there was no way I'd turn that down ever.

——————

"Really sweetheart, again with the untied shoes? How many times do I have to tie your shoes in a week? you’re gonna end up hurting yourself one day." I said smiling at her, she lifts her head up her precious smile making a way onto her face.

Getting down to tie her shoes, I start by taking both of the laces on her left foot tying them and ending with the signature bunny ears, then moving to the right and doing the same on that side just as I always do whenever I tie her shoes.

"It's almost like you want me to tie your shoes for you, it's almost like" I pause for a second chuckling.

"Like  you're purposely doing this just so I can tie them." I said looking at her as she gazed back down at me, and I could see a little panic in her alluring eyes and small blush creeping onto her face, as she tried to stay calm knowing she's been caught in her act.

"Wh-why would you think that," she asks stuttering a bit, I stand up placing an arm over her shoulder as the halls start to clear out.  Her and I among the few still standing around.

I lean down and get close to her ear, breathing on it a bit, as she shivers.

"Well because I might have overheard so and so talking to another so and so about how your purposely untying them, so little old me could tie them for you." I smirk at her, as her body goes tense underneath me, as she pulls away from my arm facing me now, eyes wide and mouth open. 

"Who told you that?!" she asks.

"Munson, (y/l/n), Get to class now!" Our heads turn as we hear Mrs. Elgreen yell at us.

“Stop standing around, go now!” She yells again. As (y/n) just stands there waiting for a response from me.

"Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart, but I gotta get to class really don’t wanna fail again, and I think you should go to really don’t want you failing either." I said a smug look on my face, as I quickly peck her cheek walking off to my class. I looked back at her shocked expression and chuckled a bit, God that girl was gonna be the death of me.

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A/N: Hey guys! this is my first Eddie Munson fic I hope ya'll liked it.

Also feedback is greatly encouraged and I hope you guys will start requesting things soon, because I'm dying to write! Please comment, like and reblog, i’d really appreciated it!! :)

(Also this isn’t my gif it’s by @metalheadmunson go follow them there great!! Thank you sooo much for this gif, it’s so precious!!)

xoxo,

Kaity