#but nothing really changes and its fascinating actually

[silverthelovebug]

Brooklyn and Ben definitely convinced Yaz to start smoking with them. Brooklyn pulls Yaz aside and is like “Bro. I think you would benefit from a bit of weed”. and Yaz is mad sus. she couldn't smoke in hs bc of track and just never got into it. but Brooklyn has her hit a joint and Yaz is like “Wow… I love… not being anxious for like five seconds ….”

(Sammy does the minimum dosage on edibles)

[bikefuckersoftheworldunite]

Àlex Crivillé and Sete Gibernau in 1999

plus an excerpt from a 1999 article:

[vallasochrasy]

so basically in late december i bought for dirty cheap the complete italian edition of obscure trans manga F Compo which was just lying there in a comicbook shop and it has been the most wild read not only because of the content itself which is 10/10 BUT because on issue n.3 i found in the fanmail of the manga a earth-shattering letter from a trans woman praising F Compo for its overall positive representation of trans lives and then i found out she was actually a super relevant trans activist of the time AND AND her letter apparently touched some readers so much than in later issues there were STILL people in the fanmail talking about the legendary letter of Mirella Izzo and asking for their contacts to be displayed in case she would find them and mail them back and it felt like finding a precious relic from a time long gone where communication was still evolving and not completely synchronous, this game of telephone stretched through time, like, did mirella ever buy the other issues? did she write back to those who asked? did she get to see that her words were valued and loved in this tiny space at the end of a manga made of cheap shitty paper? that they resonated with people? maybe those people were gay or trans themselves, or maybe they were simply shook by the words of mirella, either way it was very moving to witness

[infizero]

every time i so much as think about that scene where light looks at porn magazines while scowling i go into hysterics its genuinely the funniest thing i've ever seen

[shinig6mis]

you never should've clicked that link.

but curiosity had its claws in you, and that night, while you were alone in your dimly lit room, you let it win. just a quick look, just to see what was really lurking on the dark web. that's what you told yourself.

one wrong click and your screen glitched. blacked out for half a second. then a text box popped up with white letters against a pitch-black background.

???: cute pajamas

your breath caught in your throat. the cursor blinked, waiting. you didn’t type anything or move at all. you simply stared as your heart hammered against your chest. your fingers twitched toward the laptop lid.

another message.

???: go ahead and close it

???: i’ll still be here

your skin prickled. and then, at the top of your screen, you noticed the tiny, glowing green dot. the camera light.

without thinking, you slammed your laptop shut so fast it nearly slid off your desk. scrambled back, stomach twisting. no way. no fucking way.

on the next day, you took your laptop to a repair shop. paid extra to have it cleaned, reset, scrubbed of whatever digital parasite had burrowed into it. but then the guy behind the counter just frowned, clicking through your system. “there’s nothing here,” he said. “no malware, no viruses. your laptop’s clean.”

all that really needed to be repaired was the tiny crack on your screen after you shut it so fast.

tomura was bored.

he had planned to fuck with you, that was all.

another dumbass poking around where they shouldn’t, clicking shit they know they're not supposed to. he almost closed out after the first few days of watching.

that was until you started talking to yourself when you were alone, making little noises when you stretched, humming under your breath while working on assignments. the way you’d pause videos to read comments, or sit cross-legged in bed while scrolling on your phone.

it was stupid. pointless, really.

but for some reason, it was hard to look away.

so he didn’t.

he watched you like a habit he couldn’t quit.

and eventually, you started leaving your laptop open more often. but the paranoia still lingered, coiling in your stomach when you were alone too long. that feeling of being watched never really went away.

a couple nights later, your screen lit up again on its own.

there it was again.

???: how long r u gonna keep ignoring me?

you glared at the webcam, hoping he could feel it through the screen, as your fingers hovered over the keyboard and typed.

y/n: how long are you gonna keep watching me, creep?

tomura laughed at that.

???: so she does talk

what the fuck was going on right now? your hands were sweating. you wiped them on your thighs, forced yourself to keep your eyes narrowed at him.

if he could still message you, still access your screen, then he knew everything. your files, your passwords, your location.

the realization sent a cold shiver down your spine.

y/n: what do you want?

this time, the reply was almost instant.

???: already got what i want

tomura wasn’t sure what exactly had changed. watching had been enough, at first. knowing he could listen in on your rambles, see the way you chewed your lip while concentrating on a homework, the absent-minded way you twirled a strand of hair when you were bored—it was all pretty amusing.

but he wanted more.

you fascinated him. the way you blushed when you saw a cringey scene in a show, the way your brows knitted when you felt troubled. all your unfiltered reactions.

people were so fake, so performative, but you—alone in your space, forgetting he was right there—you just felt so real and right to him.

and while tomura has seen plenty of people, it was rare for him to actually see the real version of someone and continue to grow attracted to them.

he wanted to see you up close. wanted to make you react to him.

it was a crowded café near campus. you had been staring out the window absently, hands wrapped around your drink as your eyes focused on whatever reading you were trying to dissect on your laptop.

you looked so at peace that tomura almost didn't want to ruin the moment for you.

but he couldn't help it as he lifted his phone and typed on his screen.

your device buzzed with one new message.

???: found you

author’s note ♪ 　 ͙ㅤ 　(՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞) i love my boy tomura so bad yall don’t understand :< p.s. honestly can’t remember when i wrote this ?? i just found it in my drafts ermmmm…

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[dancingaliensfics]

loser remmick idea: he appears on reader’s doorstep sizzling like a fajita asking to come inside kind of like what he did with joan and bert, fully intending to suck her blood and do vampire stuff once inside. but reader thinks he has sun poisoning or something and is hell bent on nursing him back to health and doesn’t even noticing him acting like a weirdo ready to pounce. and remmick being a lewser desperate for human connection just plays into the helpless sick/injured think like those dogs pretending to be hurt so their owners will pet them. and then once the sun goes down he’s probs like “yeah im turning you into a vampire lmao”

See I'm actually so fascinated by this that I've started writing an entire fic about it. Which is why the response is short, I have so many thoughts i had to just start writing a whole fic haha.

Anyway here's a little bit I've got so far:

The man kneeling before you is no threat. He's quite pathetic really. Burning and weeping. Its been a long time since youve seen wounds like this. The smell of burning flesh fills your nose and you stop yourself from gagging. God, what happened to him to get him in this state.

"Please, please help me," he cries, head bent forward, hands folded in front of him.

"They got me, dont let them hurt me, please."

"People did this to you? Who?" You're disgusted, you're no stranger to violence, not here, not as a black woman, but it still cuts you deep. Your heart aches and you feel sick.

The eye that isn't swollen gives you a quick glance. It's so fast you doubt if it happened.

"The klan, I was travelling with some other folk, a few black and some Irish. They stopped us, said we were carrying stolen goods, but I swear it's not true. I'm a good man i promise you please." You're don't notice his accent change really, it happens so fast.

"Jesus christ, no ones safe from them are they." You kneeling down and reach out to touch him, then stop for a moment. You look around you at the grass that stretches on to the trees. You see nothing.

"You're don't think they come after you do you?"

"No ma'am, they won't follow me. I ran a long time before I got here."

You finish reaching down and gently rest your hands on his upper arms. He flinches with a hiss.

"Cmon now, we best get you inside."

He leans into you as you rise together and pull him inside. The door shuts behind you and you quickly walk him to the sofa.

"We best get you cleaned up first so I can take a better look at your wounds. What's your name, then?"

[vexwerewolf]

Should I read homestuck

tl;dr: no

actual answer: yes, but with some extremely important caveats.

Firstly, because Adobe shitcanned Flash, you can now no longer experience Homestuck in the form it was intended upon release... unless you download the Unofficial Homestuck Collection. This act of unbelievable, nay, saintly generosity by Homestuck's most dedicated fans allows you to experience Homestuck as it was intended - as close as is humanly possible.

"As close as is humanly possible" is the key phrase here. One indelible part of the original Homestuck experience was UPDATE! Homestuck would sometimes go weeks or even months (and later, years) between updates. I wasn't on Tumblr back in the day, but at the peak of Homestuck, even if you knew nothing else about it, you'd know when an update dropped because Tumblr's net traffic would increase something like three to fourfold. People would go apeshit bananas about whatever new revelations the Huss would drop on us.

You also need to realise that Homestuck is a product of its time and while its takes on sexuality and gender identity was pretty progressive (for its time), Huss did use the r-slur a bunch.

While we're on the subject of the author, Andrew Hussie (of whom my current understanding is that they have not changed name but go by they/them nowadays) is, in the most diplomatic possible terms, a very unique person. They are, at times, a visionary storyteller with genuinely fascinating ideas. At other times, they come off as kinda spiteful towards their readers.

Without meaning to dip into spoilers, some story beats seem (in my opinion) almost intentionally calculated to upset, irritate or mock certain fans. It never rises to the sheer vicious contempt that Steven Moffat had towards Sherlock's fanbase, but it does leave a bad taste in my mouth whenever I go back.

Additionally, and this is where a sort of birds-eye-view spoiler is unavoidable, the story suffers from the Game of Thrones pitfall of repeatedly increasing its own complexity by adding new plot threads without resolving existing ones, eventually leading to fatigue on the part of both the reader and the author. The arcs of a lot of characters just straight up get abandoned, while a couple of characters take an unnecessarily large amount of screen time.

There's one character in particular that the author openly states within the narrative (the author exists within the world of the story. It's... a whole thing) that they favour, and whose behaviour the story is warped to accommodate. You'll know exactly who I'm talking about almost the moment they show up.

Another reason I say that it's not really possible to read Homestuck as it was originally intended is because a lot of the shit that happens in it fits into the zeitgeist of the internet at the time any individual update was written. There's a whole section in the late middle third that is inextricably and very specifically tied to how it was like to use Tumblr in 2012.

Additionally, a lot of things have soured with time. There was the whole Hiveswap debacle (it was first announced in 2012. We got the first act in 2017. We got the second act in 2020. We do not even know if the third act will ever come out.). There were the legal threats. There were the Epilogues and Homestuck 2, which were... how do I put this? Not universally liked. There's been nearly a decade of discourse since Homestuck ended, and a lot of things haven't grown better with age.

All of that being said.

You should read it.

I cannot express to you just how big an impact Homestuck has had on internet culture. Even people who claim to hate Homestuck unconsciously use slang that it invented. Its unique ideas on storytelling, character design and narrative chronology have, in both subtle and unsubtle ways, changed the way millennials and Gen Z tell stories.

A lot of people were inspired to tell stories because of Homestuck - one example I always give to Lancer players is that Kill Six Billion Demons started as a comic on the MSPA forums (before it was homestuck.com, it was MS Paint Adventures), so Homestuck is in an indirect but demonstrable way responsible for the existence of Lancer. The sunglasses that Gideon Nav from the Locked Tomb wears have been explicitly stated by Tamsyn Muir to be Dave Strider's. Toby Fox made music for Homestuck, and worked on large parts of Undertale while living in Andrew Hussie's basement.

We also know someone in the Bluey creative team is a Homestuck, because...

There are subtle but direct references in Bojack Horseman, Hazbin Hotel, Steven Universe, Adventure Time - and those are just the ones that it's easy to prove! In a more general sense, I think there's a lot of cartoon series, movies, games, etc. that would either be very different or wouldn't exist if Homestuck hadn't happened.

It's certainly influenced my work.

I think, being very cautious to manage your expectations, that you should read Homestuck. At the very least, a lot of things people say on Tumblr will start to make, if not sense, a different kind of nonsense.

[ooooo-mcyt]

It's also deeply fascinating how the different gimmicks or context for each season sets the tone and culture of the server during it.

Third Life was a uniquely "serious" season when it comes to the depth of the emotional weight put on things, I'd argue. It was the first season, and presumably the last. It wasn't a looping endless death game at the time, it was their only life (well, only three lives) and everyone built real roots. Kingdoms and marriages, things they wanted to genuinely protect, things they wanted to last. There was this thought that if they were to die, that would be the end. There was this thought that if they- and their allies- were to live, they could be happy together. There was this idea that they could live, that there was a world where they keep what they've earned in this place. Which isn't to say emotional stakes don't exist in later series, but Third Life is the one time where permanence and ending were both real tangible concepts to be sought after or feared, unlike now, where there's always last time and next time hovering over the players.

Last Life, on the other hand, was a season of remarkable instability. I've credited this in the past to two core mechanics within the season: the Boogeyman Curse, and the new rule that red names have to leave their teams. These two rules made teams practically impossible to keep. There was the constant fear of betrayal from the Boogeyman, and the constant knowledge that friend could turn into enemy within a second, that the only constant for you to rely on is yourself. Teams were flimsy this season, most people were fundamentally lonely, and distrust permeated most relationships. Beyond the mechanic changes, though, there's also the grief to be talked about. This was the second season, the first time they came back. And with that, came the full reality of impermanence. All their walls and castles and forts and tunnels, even the graves they dug for fallen friends, were gone now, as if they never existed. Nothing in this world is theirs to hold onto, no matter what they do. All they truly have forever is themselves. Last Life is the first time they grapple with this.

Double Life is a server I've talked about a lot because of the sheer cultural isolation promoted by its gimmick. Each player was assigned one other person who was linked to them, who they were forced to rely on for their survival, and, very quickly, an attitude formed that posed soulmate bonds as the most important- no, in some ways the only important- relationship one can have. There was an obligation to be with your soulmate and stay with them and want them and noone else. Alliances outside of soulmate pairs were flimsy, if they existed at all, as the server fell into an isolationist mindset, each soulmate pair an island. People who didn't conform to the soulmate system, people who wanted to choose their own soulmates, or who were alone, or weren't interested in soulmates, were often looked at strangely. With pity or judgment or sometimes aggression. Double Life was just deeply isolating because there was very little community. It was you and your soulmate, and everyone else is the enemy, or at least an outsider.

Limited Life, surprisingly, felt like a series with a lot of freedom. You would expect the constraint of twenty four hours to live to feel like a cage, a limitation, it's literally called Limited Life. But in practice I think you actually got the opposite feeling a lot, because lives were in hours, which meant instead of dying 3-6 times, you could hypothetically die 20+ times. Because of this, I feel like you got a lot more playing around and taking risks and petty rivalries and side storylines in this season, people being less cautious because there was less to lose with an individual death. The fact that you can gain time for killing in this series helped as well, making time feel like a renewable resource, something that's running out in theory, but that you can really just replenish, if you have the competence for it. This made people possibly even more aggressive than in past seasons too, I'd argue, because there was very real incentive to kill, because you will always gain something for it (as long as the kill is legal). This is how we ended up with winding sky paths and tnt falling from the sky every five seconds. Because people were simultaneously more aggressive and less afraid than usual.

Secret Life's another interesting one. I feel like the secret tasks had the capacity to be isolating- and in some cases they were- but I kind of feel like Secret Life had a pretty good sense of community overall, not in spite of, but in many cases because of the secret tasks. Most tasks were funny, tasks were conversation starters in a way (obviously you couldn't talk about them outright, but people would follow someone around to tease them while they're doing their task plenty), tasks typically forced people out of their bases and into going around the server where they'd inevitably talk to people, many tasks even outright involved mandatory interaction with people (often people outside your alliances). And sure, everyone had secrets they couldn't tell, but the non-red tasks (usually) weren't anything harmful, and everyone could have some kind of solidarity in the fact that they all had tasks of their own. And sure, the yellow names being able to guess tasks added some 'tension', but that gave yellow names solidarity with each other and a reason to talk amongst themselves and to the greens. I just feel like Secret Life was an especially social season because of the tasks themselves and how a lot of them mandated communication outside your own alliance.

And then there's Wild Life. This..is another season I think was pretty social, for very similar reasons to Secret Life. The Wild Cards were fun, they gave people something to bond over (because they all have to deal with the wild cards), and they'd often offer an excuse to leave your base and go around the server instead of spending whole episodes working at your own base with your preexisting alliance. People still tried to kill each other of course (particularly when there were dark greens alive to get lives from), but there was also often more focus on the wild cards than on the battle royale aspect of the game. I mean, it took shockingly long for people to even start really killing each other in the finale, I remember sitting through practically half the session and wondering how they were going to wrap it up this session because noone was killing each other for a good chunk of it. This season also had the zombies (both in the super power episode and in the finale), which I think gave some more levity, because even if you die, you're not even gone from the series, you get to pop back up and be silly for a little bit, which I think also lightened the pressure to play too intensely.

I just feel like every season had a very unique culture caused by the gimmicks and context surrounding them and that's fascinating to me.

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 3

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, eldritch monster

A/N: Here is part 3 at last! It started to get a bit long so I decided to break it up into 2 parts. This one is just fluff (no smut), but don't worry, I am posting part 4 with more tentacle shenanigans at the same time so you won't have to wait!

Since it fits, I'm also tagging this for #10 Tentacles from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

The next morning you wake to the bright sunlight streaming through the open window of your bedroom. Blinking open groggy eyes, you stretch your sore muscles with a groan. You smile to yourself at the memories from last night as you admire the bright red circular marks that cover your skin. You realize then that the tentacle monster is no longer holding your hand.

Leaning over the side of your bed, you peer under it but there’s nothing there. You sigh in disappointment and get up to grab some clothes from your closet. Just as you finish pulling them on, a soft rustling sound comes from behind you and you turn in excitement.

To your delight, you see a few tentacles peeking out from under your bed, gently feeling around on the sheets as if looking for you.

“You came back!” You exclaim as you rush over to it.

“Of course, my sweet. I will never leave you,” its deep, cosmic voice echoes in your head. Before you have a chance to wonder at its statement, it continues, “Did you rest well?”

“Yeah.” A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, “Thank you.” Biting your lip, you tentatively ask, “Will…will you come out so I can see you?”

The monster is quiet for a beat before saying, “I do not want to scare you.”

How bad could it really be? 

“I won’t be afraid, I promise.”

“I am not like your kind or anything that lives in this dimension.”

This dimension? Now you’re really curious, but you decide to table those questions for later in favor of coaxing this monster out from under your bed.

“I know,” you say as you take a step forward. You’ve already jumped way past the line of sanity by letting it fuck you with its tentacles so you might as well dive into the deep end at this point. “But you’ve seen all of me and I want to see all of you in return.”

It doesn't say anything for several moments and you wait patiently. “Very well,” it finally replies.

You watch with bated breath as the tentacles begin to slide forward. Soon there are dozens spilling from beneath your bed, squirming and writhing as a massive shape begins to form. Within moments, the monster has fully emerged and is looming over you, nearly blocking out the light from the window.

You gape in awe at the creature before you. Amidst the sea of tentacles that writhe from every side, is an amorphous, dark mass. You can’t quite tell what it’s made of but it looks almost like goo. When you take a step closer to get a better look, you can see that the surface is not actually black, but rather a deep shade of dark purple. The color appears to shimmer in the daylight as it gently undulates under your gaze. You also notice that it’s slightly transparent since you can make out the faint outline of your desk behind it.

As you stare at the creature, trying to drink in all the details, the tentacles begin to shift along its body so that a blank space forms on the side that’s facing you. Without warning, dozens of eyes suddenly blink open in front of you and you yelp in surprise. When a wide slit appears below the eyes, revealing two rows of black, razor sharp teeth, your breath catches in your throat and you take a half step back.

The tentacles droop at your reaction. “See? I told you that you would not like what you saw.”

“No!” You hurry to explain, “I was just startled, that’s all.”

“I will change my form to better suit your liking.”

You watch in fascination as the tentacles begin to melt into the dark mass until they are all gone. The eyes and mouth close and disappear as well. Its body then begins to morph, rippling and shuttering as it reforms into a roughly humanoid shape. Amazingly, the surface also flickers as the color lightens to a soft pink.

Two of its eyes blink open again in the approximate location of where human eyes would be. Except that one of the eyes is a bit too low, looking as if it’s melting off. The mouth also reappears, much smaller this time, but still with the same deadly teeth. When the monster stretches its mouth wide in a gut-churning imitation of a smile, you grimace.

Now this is utterly terrifying.

Swallowing the bile that’s trying to climb up your throat, you manage to choke out, “No—no that’s ok. I like your normal form just fine.”

“Are you sure? Would this not make you more comfortable?”

“I’m sure,” you say with a pained smile. “You can change back.”

“Very well then.”

You sigh in relief when the monster quickly shifts back to its original shape. When it first appeared, you thought it was beautiful in its own way, with its shimmering surface and gorgeous dark purple color. But now, after seeing the monstrosity of its “humanoid” version, you find that you quite like its true form.

“Much better,” you say with a genuine smile this time. Your grin only widens when it wriggles in obvious pleasure at your words.

“Hey, what’s your name, by the way?” You ask, realizing you never actually had a proper introduction.

“I am called *garbled noises*”

Whatever name it just gave you is completely unintelligible to you. “Umm…sorry, what?”

It repeats the same unintelligible noises again and you wince, knowing it will be impossible for you to grasp, let alone repeat. “I uh—I don’t know if I can pronounce that. But the beginning kind of sounds like ‘Karl’. Would it be alright if I called you that?”

“You—you would give me a name?” It asks in a stunned tone.

Worried that you may have offended it, you try to backtrack a little, “I don’t have to! Only if you’re ok with it, I mean. I just—”

“I would be honored to be named you,” it interrupts you, its voice reverent.

Sighing in relief, you grin. “Ok then. It’s nice to meet you, Karl.”

“Kaaarrrlll,” it says, dragging out the sounds as if testing them out. “I shall be Karl from now on. Thank you very much for this gift, I will cherish it for eternity.”

Reaching out a tentacle towards you, Karl curls the end into a ball and holds it there. You stare down at it in confusion, blinking a few times. “What…what are you doing?”

“Is this not what humans do in greeting?” Karl replies, reaching down to grab your opposite arm with a tentacle. It wraps around your hand, manipulating it until your hand is in a fist. Then Karl lightly taps its balled up tentacle against your closed fist and says, “Sup, bro?”

You continue to stare in utter confusion for a moment until it dawns on you that Karl just tried to fist bump you and you burst out laughing.

“What is so amusing?” It asks in a mildly affronted voice. “I have seen many humans greet each other this way. The ones who throw around the big orange ball do this a lot.”

“That’s not…” you try to reply through wheezing gasps but you’re still laughing too hard. After a minute, you finally settle down and catch your breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… that’s how friends might greet each other.”

“Are we not friends?”

“Well…” you hesitate. “We could be. But since we…Uh... Since we were intimate… That’s not how lovers would greet each other.” You manage to stumble through your explanation, hoping Karl understands what you’re trying to say.

“Are we…” it pauses, as if mulling over the word, “lovers?”

“I mean, I guess?” You hedge, not quite meaning for it to come out as a question.

“And how do lovers greet each other?”

Laughing awkwardly, you rub the back of your neck. “They…would kiss each other.” You can feel your cheeks flaming at the thought. This monster literally fucked you senseless twice and here you are, blushing like a school girl at the thought of kissing it.

“Kiss?”

Oh gods. Your cheeks manage to grow even hotter. Taking a step closer so that you’re only a few inches from Karl, you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, like this,” you say as you lean in and place a soft kiss on its now closed mouth.

Karl is quiet for a moment before demanding, “Do it again.”

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

taglist: @blushycadaver @pearlofrose @gothicsugarslvt

[munv]

OCTAVINELLE X !FREMINENT READER

im actually consistent holy shirt

AZUL

he notices how you avert to attention almost immediately, you reminded him of himself when he was way younger. awkward and shy, yknow that jazz

So of course, azul wouldnt be azul if he didnt attempt to steal your magic. Thinking you would be easy to manipulate, he approaches you with the intent to strike a deal..only to get..refused?..politely??..

You simply give him a simple "no" and walk away which really throws him in for a loop. He comes to the realization how self-assured you are. No one to constantly prove yourself too, and he's fascinated completely.

He starts to attempt being closer to you. Offering his assistance for better gear and materials, even food at times form he lounge. It's a flimsy excuse to get closer to you and he basically thrives in it.

Any sort of praise from you? he gets all shy and stuff and stammers up. Fidgeting with his glasses and his suddenly very interesting gloves. He's not used to such sincere comments, especially for him, so you really got him there.

The soft spoken loyalty that comes from you, is something he would never take for granted.

FLOYD

Floyd is genuine nightmare fuel because he zones in on you like a predator with its prey. He sees you as this "quiet little fishy" that intrigues him.

At first, it scares you to no end. This large crazy guy is in your space, throwing around random nicknames, nonetheless, chasing you around? yeah, you're cooked.

You become one of his favorite "toys". But not in the crazy cruel way—it’s in the he finds your reaction cute type of way and he feeds off of it.

However, when you start standing up for himself, he just stands still like he’s had a moment of enlightenment. Floyd likes interesting things, so of course he would be accustomed to change.

Floyd usually has his crazy mood swings, days where he doesnt want to talk and when he’d probably blitz anyone who tried talking to him. Those days, he seeks you out and just drowns in your presence.

You won’t ask questions, you dont ever anyways. You work on whatever you need to work on and sit in silence. As chaotic as he gets, sometimes he needs that balance.

He drives people away that pick on you, but you’ll never actually know unless he verbally explains that he squeezed the lights out of someone.

JADE

Jade hovers over you, not because your quiet and socially awkward, but because you have consistency.

You constantly wear a mask around those you dont know, and you dont waver. He respects that, and finds it one of the most interesting things about you thus far.

At first, he treats you with soft words, kind gestures, nice and polite. He backs off when needed and knows when to read the room.

One single factor, is that he is still a leech twin, therefore, it being in his nature, he will be a bit playful.

That said, he will poke around your boundaries a little bit. He’s going to experiment so he can see how much exactly it takes for you to fold and break apart. Its nothing like ill intent. He’s just studying you.

When he learns about your hobbies? He finds genuine interest taking over. You often find him asking you questions while you work. Jade praises a lot

He often shows how much he cares through actions, so he’s going to notice your little routines and habits. Even bad habits and helps you break them. He listens intently and offers meaningful advice.

[lapdogchase]

fascinated and distressed by chase's disordered relationship with sexuality + his emotions abt his own trauma & abuse

thru the beginning of the show he doesn't even realize he's hot despite being objectively attractive. when he finds out he's hot he then realizes people pretend to be interested in him as a person in order to have sex with him and gets super upset about it

he starts having a bunch of meaningless sex as a coping mechanism when cameron leaves him. and also a lot of other times. whenever something bad happens, basically, he starts going out with a bunch of women, just to feel something, presumably

^to the extent where hes known within the hospital as a slut. and has had sex with an insane amount of nurses. as well as presumably women who are not at his place of work.

he says doing this made him hate himself so he stopped. it's the b-plot for an episode and then he's back having meaningless sex again by the end of the episode

even his coworkers know this about him. and have called it out, masters even says she thinks he doesn't respect women bc, in her words, he's with a different one every few days or maybe he finds comfort in meaningless relationships

goes back to having meaningless sex within weeks of getting stabbed. which is really bad for wound healing reasons too. genuinely it seems like such compulsive behavior for him considering he keeps doing it even when its objectively not only a bad idea but actively dangerous

house even directly says he's "a serial slut" because he's "terrified of intimacy." incredibly accurate assessment

his relationship with his sexuality reads so heavily as someone who thinks they're not good for anything else

see also: dissociation & avoidance

we know he has a lot of trauma especially in childhood- he never really gets into it let alone into how he Feels about it but what we know is already bad & that's just the stuff he's okay with sharing with his coworkers or patients

in general he's very avoidant of his own trauma- when he gets stabbed he says he "can't change what happened, can only make better choices from here" as if it was his own fault, and refuses thru the whole episode to acknowledge that being traumatized by this would be a really normal reaction that he is definitely having. instead he just blames himself

also, he dissociates from traumatic things that happen to him - says "there was a stabbing" rather than "i was stabbed" for instance

when he's talking abt his childhood trauma he does it in a very similar way - he talks about it very bluntly and doesn't ever get into how he actually feels about it.

see also: dr. fawn response

general passive willingness to go along with anything- when cameron says they should have sex in s3 he's surprised and then he just kinda goes along with it. not bc he didn't want to bc he obviously did, but he's just generally very much someone who does whatever other people want him to do. i feel like he and cameron both tend to seek validation thru sex in an unhealthy way that i'm still gnawing on like a dog with a bone i have to go rewatch s3 to really articulate it though

he has a sort of desperation for praise and approval especially from anyone he views as an authority figure. he does whatever authority figures tell him out of this idea that it'll bring him approval and therefore safety

like no matter what house does or says to him he doesn't argue or retaliate or anything. even when house punches him he collapses on the ground in pain and then just keeps talking about the patient like nothing happened.

the scene in 3.10 after house punches him where he's in the ddx room and house walks in and throws the file at him and chase is startled and tries to pretend he's not. and he looks up with this huge fuck ass bruise on his jaw swallows heavily and pretends not to be upset. and house asks if he got that looked at as if he wasn't the one to give it to him and chase just swallows and says he's fine. dr fawn response :(

[nohoperadio]

I went to the Wikipedia page on Les Champs magnétiques (a French surrealist novel written entirely as automatic writing, i.e. typing whatever words come into your head without trying to make them mean anything), which is one of the Wikipedia pages I remember being fascinated by as a young teen first discovering Wikipedia, when at least a couple of you were literally not even born yet, or like barely born. The very short article hasn't changed much since 20 years ago except that the example passage they quote is now a different one for some reason, which I noticed immediately on account of the vibes being wrong despite the new passage also mentioning train stations, and I had to go back to an older revision to see the one I remember from my youth:

The marvellous railway-stations never afford us shelter anymore: the long passages terrify us. So in order to go on living these monotonous minutes must still be stifled, these scraps of centuries. Once we loved the year's last sunny days, the narrow plains where our eyes' gaze flowed like those impetuous rives of our childhood. There remain nothing but reflections now in the woods repopulated with absurd animals, with well-known plants.

For some reason I felt like going back even further to the very first version of the article, created May 8th 2004, and I was rewarded with the fact that the user who initially created the article for Les Champs magnétiques (and the current version is still mostly their work actually) decided to get a bit self-referential and wacky with it; this is how their original version ends:

Keeping the spirit of surrealism, the rest of this entry is done using automated writing (spelling mistakes and all): A strange french book, is this book. I can try to read it but sometinmes I have trouble, especisallym wsince my essay is due in Monday. I have boorrowed a lot of books from the library. Perhapos I can do an automated essay? I mentioned it to my lecturerer and he said it would not work. I wonder if the wiklipedia people will accept this entry. I think they are too strict and it is a pity that surrealism is not an accepted technique if these people knew anything about post-modernism they would realise that everythign like this is valid on some level althought I guess I haven't really spoken about the book, yeah its good, there is poetry towards the end so it's not really a novel.

[stellaclaw]

i think part of the reason i love hollyleaf but really hate her comeback is because she was a fascinating look into a downward spiral from expectations. she didnt kill ashfur because she was a girlboss or because he was threatening her. she killed him because he knew the truth, and if he said it, that would make it real. in some fucked up way, if he died, maybe that truth would die with him and she could go back to the happy lie.

but she couldnt. because killing him didnt change the truth. and learning just how far it went broke her so utterly because by the laws she had been raised by, she was an abomination twice over. the prophecy didnt matter anymore, her family didnt matter anymore, because hollyleaf had sworn herself to the culture of the clans, of SERVING her clan (because the prophey was service, always to make herself the greatest warrior of thunderclan), and how could she do that when her very existence spat in the face of their laws?

hollyleaf thought she had lost everything, and the ironic part is that… she really didnt? she was still firestars grandaughter. she still came from a grand legacy, was still a notably skilled, almost prodigal warrior, was decently liked and experienced, still had a family that loved her. she had everything a clan culture would want, but she broke their laws by existing, and so everything else meant nothing and everybody involved had to be punished.

so its kind of a slap in the face to have her come back and her redemption being to “let the warrior code rule our hearts” when her tale was a cautionary one of what happens when you allow the law to color your perception of the world and the value of people. it addresses the murder without the motivation, or any of her other crimes, her resentful bigotry towards the woman who raised her, her cruelty towards the mother who wanted her and loved her so badly that she was willing to forgive ATTEMPTED MURDER without an apology. all it did was absolve one (1) crime without resolving the actual conflict of the character.

[thewistlingbadger]

Analyzing Viktor's eyes:

We've talked about how Jayce is never repulsed or afraid of the major changes to Viktor's body and accepts him instantly whenever he sees something that should not be the way it is when it comes to Viktor's body. What we have YET to talk about is just how Jayce doesn't turn away from Viktor's purple and metal body, he does not turn away from Viktor's steel and muted eyes and I think this is VERY IMPORTANT.

Because in season two Viktor's eyes are somewhat symbolic of his humanity. Viktor's eyes are naturally yellow and are one of the most distinctive elements to his design but after his transfusion with the hexcore they become this empty gray that sometimes changes color. It looks very weird and inhuman and nothing like Viktor. The only time we see Viktor's natural eyes in season two is in the astral plane, where he also maintains his season one hairstyle and features and build. However once Viktor goes full machine herald his eyes are completely gone. His face is split in half and the eyes of his mask contain no pupil or iris. It is only two glowing slits of yellow, both in the astral plane and in the actual world (although in the actual world Viktor's "eyes" actually take on a spherical shape but still it is literally just two glowing spheres of yellow). ADDITIONALLY even though is face is split we can still see it under the mask and we see his eyes are CLOSED. As if he is closed off from his humanity after fully becoming the machine herald or just refuses to look at it or the consequences of his actions.

It is JAYCE who's responsible for the return of Viktor's natural eye color once Viktor has become the machine herald. Viktor's machine herald mask in the astral plane BREAKS because Ekko throws the z drive directly at Viktor's face. We're able to see half of Viktor's real face and half of his mask when Jayce reveals that Viktor was the mage all along. The mask does not fully come off until AFTER Jayce hugs Viktor in the astral plane and Viktor pulls away from the hug. Jayce's hug is why we're now able to see both of Viktor's eyes.

This whole journey with Viktor's eyes and the relationship between him and Jayce is very fascinating to me for several reasons:

Jayce took away Viktor's humanity by fusing the hexcore to him. But Jayce is also the same person that made Viktor realize that humanity was beautiful because of its flaws. He is the one that made Viktor human again, literally. Jayce is the reason why Viktor's eyes change color in the first place AND he is also the one that is responsible for them returning to their original color.

Jayce and Viktor spend a lot of time looking at each other throughout the show but ESPECIALLY in season two. The first thing Jayce does when he's actually reunited with Viktor after their initial separation and Jayce's trip to the bad au is STARE AT VIKTOR. Viktor looks so different and is floating in the air and all Jayce could do was stare at him. The next time they meet after this, Viktor tries to hold Jayce's eye contact in the astral plane but Jayce isn't in the astral plane with him. So instead of seeing Viktor's eyes Jayce just sees the cold face of someone Viktor turned into a machine. Jayce looks Viktor in the eye almost the entirety of their finale in the astral plane. The last thing Jayce and Viktor ever do in the show is look at each other AND they spend their final moments in the show facing each other but WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED!

Eye contact is very important to humans. Eyes in general are just really important to humans. Not only for the practical reason, to see things, but also on an emotional and spiritual level. "The eyes are the window to the soul." You can tell a lot about someone by the way their eyes look and how they look when they look at things. The pupils of our eyes grow and shrink based off what we're looking at and sometimes that dilation is in accordance to how much we like something. You can see in the finale that Jayce and Viktor's pupils are practically blown out they're so big. You can communicate a lot just by using your eyes, without ever saying a single word.

Jayce is never really aghast by Viktor's body no matter how horrific it looks because Jayce cares about Viktor. When he sees him on the brink of death in the council room and sees how his leg is glowing purple, his first thought isn't "what the fuck is wrong with Viktor's leg." His first thought is "I have to save Viktor from dying." When Jayce actually got Viktor to the lab and saw the entity of Viktor's body he wasn't thinking about how inhumane and wrong it looked. He was only thinking about how the hexcore better be able to fix Viktor. When Viktor is stable but unresponsive for several days after the transfusion, Jayce isn't thinking about Viktor's notes on his self experimentation or how Viktor's body had several runes carved into it. He was thinking about whether or not Viktor was okay. Whether or not Viktor was going to ever wake up. When Viktor DOES wake up and is entirely purple and shiny and able to walk without a mobility aid and stand up straight without a brace, his first thought is "what the fuck happened to me and to my body? What have I become am I still human what am I?" And Jayce's first thought to seeing a Viktor of purple, metallic flesh is "holy shit, it worked. It worked, Viktor is alive and awake and back." Towards the end of the show when Jayce sees the machine herald for the first time, he isn't terrified by the fact that Viktor is extremely tall and other worldly looking. He isn't disgusted by Viktor's third arm or distorted voice or lack of a face or his unnaturally slim waist. He doesn't even look phased or bothered at all. Instead, one of the first things he says upon seeing the machine herald is "there must be some part of you that's still in there." After this interaction, after Viktor and him fight and it seems like Viktor is going to take his life away from Jayce, Jayce STILL is adamant on the idea that Viktor, his friend, his partner of several years, is still alive. Jayce fully believes that Viktor is still within the machine herald and he has so much faith that he risks his own life and the lives of everyone else on his belief. As Viktor actually begins to turn Jayce into a machine, Jayce spends his last words telling Viktor about how his humanity is beautiful and how he still believes in Viktor. Jayce's wholehearted care for Viktor is what ends up saving everyone! Jayce sees Viktor's body go through horrific transformations throughout the season and it doesn't impact the way he views Viktor in the slightest. He saw the way Viktor's body looked and never asked a single question about it and never asked questions about Viktor's notes on self experimentation. So of course he's not phased by Viktor's eyes being a different color. Jayce is able to see Viktor's humanity even when Viktor doesn't look or act like a human.

But arguably the reason why I find this so fascinating, why I'm so intrigued that Jayce has no concern for the fact that Viktor's eyes are no longer yellow is because Viktor's eyes are arguably Viktor's most important feature TO JAYCE. Viktor's eyes and their color and their intensity is something that Jayce canonically has taken notice of and has found importance in. In the finale montage, we see a shot of Viktor from Jayce's perspective on the night they met. The shot is the exact shot used in the beginning of the show. When you compare the two shots, the one from act 1 s1 and the one from act 3 S2, they are IDENTICAL WITH ONLY ONE MAJOR EXCEPTION. VIKTOR'S EYES. Viktor's eyes in the shot used in the finale are MORE yellow, MORE intense, and more distinct than they were in the original shot at the start of the show. This shot is from Jayce's perspective, so it's showing us how Jayce perceived and remembered Viktor to be. This detail is the reason I even wanted to write this post. Viktor's eyes are clearly an aspect that Jayce pays attention to and yet he didn't utter a single word when he saw that they were completely different.

[veilkeeper]

Emmrich's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Fear of Death

spoilers ahead! this is about the conversation with emmrich right after When Plans Align if you're romancing him.

(edit: please click this link for the extended version of this meta)

so that argument, huh? there's something so amazing, effervescent, and spectacular about a writer who knows there's something left on the table and they come back to it in a big way.

i talked about this in part one of my sacrifice of souls meta; about how while a decision re: emmrich's mortality had been made (one way or another), nothing had actually been done about his fear of death. and this is truly the perfect time for it to come back—it is the eve of battle against gods, and the likelihood of everyone making it back unscathed is low, to say the least. it absolutely makes sense that emmrich's fear of death is rearing its head now.

what's fascinating, of course, is that depending on which path he chose, the precise fear that he brings up changes. if he's human, he's afraid of his death. if he's a lich, he's afraid of yours.

big thanks to @/maxwellhousebrandcoffeefilter for providing me a clip of the argument when emmrich is still human, so that i can talk about both sides!! let's get into it.

Such Years Between Us

Even under the best circumstances, you will outlive me, Rook. You've... grown to mean much to me and... I care for you, Rook! Deeply. But there are such years between us, I shouldn't heap you with that burden.

this side of the argument is so interesting, because it actually has very little to do with the upcoming battle and is basically entirely about emmrich having to actually reckon with the fact that he's significantly older than rook for the first time. for so long in this romance i think he saw the lichdom as this like, beacon on the horizon. he didn't really think about the reality of getting involved with someone younger than him because he always had the option to become a lich. no getting older, no slowing down, no dying.

and now that it's no longer an option, he's stuck with it. he has to think about it. he loves rook, and as he says, there are realities to the circumstances of their relationship that need to be considered! the only difference is that... rook already did. at the beginning. which is when these types of concerns are usually addressed.

which of course is why this turns into a full argument when emmrich insinuates that it's rook who couldn't possibly understand his concerns about fairness "at their age."

i'm so, so, so happy that rook gets to call him out on this path, because frankly, it is wildly unfair to them, just not for the reason emmrich thinks. he's so concerned that it's unfair because they're going to have to mourn them, but he doesn't consider that maybe rook has already considered that, and bringing it up now is a dick move. they can point-blank ask if they're having this conversation "because you're worried about me, or insecure about you?" and it's so good.

Like a Thread of Diamond Flame

I can see the life course through you, my love. Like a thread of diamond flame. Yet... I will lose you to time, Rook. What if I can't bear that for eternity?

the argument with lich!emmrich actually is partially about the battle ahead.... because he opens with asking rook to stay back and not throw themselves head first into the fight. he's concerned for their safety, and seems to have forgotten that in a fight against gods, no one can afford to hold back.

man, i love it when i'm right. i knew he hadn't properly considered the consequences of lichdom, and i knew he wasn't prepared for rook to die. but seeing it said so plainly? absolutely delicious.

this answers my question of why he'd been "moping" around, as harding said. because he's been overthinking things and imagining the future where rook gets old and dies and he has to live on afterwards. i think the full impact of mourning manfred has hit him and he's realized that the depths of his feelings for rook are such that it will be so much worse when it's them. "I'm afraid I'll mourn you forever." not remember them, not love them. those were a given, guarantees he made before he ever even did his rites. but he's afraid he will mourn them forever, too. and that's... unimaginably heavy. a weight he hadn't considered, but should have.

the way this argument ends varies, including a path where you call him on overthinking and sabotaging his own happiness. but my favourite? when you tell him he can't act like this every time danger looms, and rook says "I'm not going to be afraid of dying just because you are." there's something so powerful in just that one line—it cuts right to the heart of the issue. this is about emmrich and his fears. nothing else.

my only complaint with this scene is there's no opportunity to call emmrich out on the fact that he should have thought about this before becoming a lich. of course, i knew that he hadn't—it was obvious he was rushing things so that he didn't have time to get cold feet, but i wish rook could say so. especially since it's been all my rook could think about since the jump.

[lackinggravitas]

sup gamers. here's a wee 2k fic based off of @babyblankyerror's au idea of stan being raised by wolves... i like the idea and the topic of children being raised by animals is interesting to me so here! a little drabble of long lost brothers meeting.... and not recognizing each other :-) (i changed the animal to coyotes tho. just cause i like those more)

ill prolly write more to this some time, but here's some feral stan and dense ford for now

part 1(you are here!) / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

ao3 vers

The lumberfolk told many stories. 

Ford did his best to record and research those that pertained to his work - the tales of mystery and magic, cryptids and creatures. Many of it was simply local legend, tall tales and the like - but just as often there was some piece of truth to be found within the campfire stories. It was the lumberfolk that told him of the hide-behind and the plaidypus, after all. If nothing else, stories made for a great lead.

One of those many stories was that of the Gravity Falls Coyote-Man. 

Legend told of a wildman, half-coyote and half-human, running on all fours and covered in hair, seen with the coyotes. Dark shapes darting between the trees, snapping up stray animals. It seemed somehow both too fantastical and also too banal for Gravity Falls - it was almost too simple a legend, not Weird enough. It was just... a man who was ambiguously connected to the local coyote population.

But there were a few lumberfolk who swore up and down to the beastman’s existence, claimed to have seen it themselves, even. And, well, Ford was having a slow week, research-wise. Why not set up a few human-sized coyote traps?

Well, he hadn’t actually really expected to catch it. 

The snare, a thin silver wire staked into the ground, was taut and strained, vice-like around a bruised neck. The creature growled, snapping its teeth at Ford, trying to swipe with long, claw-like nails at him. They cut through the air inches away from Ford’s trench coat, a narrow breaths away from connecting. 

“Fascinating,” Ford murmured, quickly scribbling away in his journal, trying to get a good sketch down of the beast. “I hadn’t actually thought you were real.”

A dirt-streaked, humanoid body, bones visible through skin, unkempt and overgrown brown hair. The hair was too matted and tangled to make out any texture, whether it was straight or curly. It was practically a forest itself, leaves and pine needles in its hair. The creature’s eyes were wide, almost eerily human, yet held the vacantness of an animal.

“Such an interesting specimen,” Ford hummed, walking a careful, examining circle around it. The beastman twisted in its trap, trying in vain to track Ford’s movement with its eyes. “To think I had almost written you off entirely. Part of me wants to take you back with me, to further study you.” 

The beastman snarled, barking at him. It struggled against its binds, trying to lunge at Ford. He sighed. 

“Of course I couldn’t,” Ford said, resigned and disappointed, “It would be wrong to keep a creature of the woods such as yourself trapped. For all I know, you’re some fae’s pet. I certainly don’t want to get caught up in that again.” 

The creature, not understanding the words being said, hunched against the ground warily. Protecting its soft spots, one would have to assume. It had evidently realized it would not be able to get Ford from where it was, instead hunkering down, growling low and warningly. A purely defensive position.

“I assure you I am not here to take advantage of your weakness,” Ford told it. He jotted down a few more quick notes. Humanoid. Not capable of speech or comprehending language - could it be taught? “I just want to study you. You’re awfully elusive, you know. Even the lumberjacks have only caught a few glimpses.”

The creature kept low to the ground, growling softly. It followed Ford with its eyes as he stopped in front of it. Ford dropped into a crouch. 

Lifting its head, the creature narrowed its eyes at him. Ford smiled wryly. “You look hungry.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of beef jerky. The beastman’s eyes softened a bit, still suspicious, but intrigued also. It looked between Ford and the jerky, interest clearly piqued. “Here.”

Ford tossed the jerky lightly, throwing it softly in front of the beastman. The creature leaned down, sniffing cautiously, before, with one more glance at Ford, quickly snapping it up with its teeth and scarfing it down. 

Smiling a bit at the sight, Ford shook his head to himself, quickly scribbling down a few more notes. This would make a good entry, he thought to himself, pleased. 

The jerky went quickly. The creature blinked at Ford curiously, licking its lips as it finished the last bit of the food. It had stopped growling now, sitting back on its haunches and tilting its head at Ford, eyes alight and watchful with clear curiosity. 

“You certainly seem at least a bit intelligent,” Ford mused as the creature leaned forward, not far enough to strain the snare, but close enough to get a good view of Ford. It didn’t seem defensive now. Just intrigued. “Maybe if I had the time, I might be able to teach you a few words.”

He pulled another piece of jerky out of his pocket. He didn’t toss it this time, slowly reaching forward to put it in front of the creature. Something of a test.

It leaned back as he leaned forward, shuffling awkwardly away from him. It didn’t start growling again, nor did it bite him, but it squared its shoulders and watched him warily until he pulled back, returning to his spot just out of the creature’s reach. 

A bit more trusting now, the creature snapped up the piece of jerky again, using its mouth to grab it. 

“It’s odd,” Ford mused to himself, writing in his journal, “You have human hands that are, by the looks of them, perfectly fine and functional, yet you barely seem to use them. It’s as though you don’t realize they’re there.” 

The creature doesn’t respond, of course. It ate its jerky quickly, chewing openly like a dog. Its teeth were clearly human as well - really, the creature was hardly dog-like at all in physical form, only in behaviour and mannerisms. Though, it was quite hairy. 

A completely human body, two arms and two legs, seemingly bipedal but favoring to walk on all fours like a dog. Hairy, yes, but humanly so. Its ears weren’t even pointed, which would have pointed towards some mystical, perhaps fae, relation. If it were human, it would have to be just a year or two younger than Ford himself, if not the same age. Its ribs were showing, face gaunt. 

Yet beyond a few bruises and small scars, it didn’t seem horribly beat-up. It was ill-fed, not ill-protected. 

“You’re an odd one, that’s for sure,” Ford said. “You’re almost too mundane for a creature of Gravity Falls. Perhaps your strangeness is more subtle than most other anomalies.” He sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to study you more.” 

The creature looked up at him, tilting its head. Its eyes were wide and brown. Something about so oddly familiar that Ford had to look away, to save himself from the sudden sting in his heart. 

Those eyes seemed so distant, yet oddly aware. They were calm now, not clouded by pain or anger. Just calm.

He carefully reached his hand out, not holding any jerky this time. The creature held very still as Ford’s hand drew closer, until his fingers gently entwined in its hair, stroking his thumb across its forehead and idly fiddling with its hair in a tentative pet. The creature slumped slightly, leaning into the touch contentedly. 

“The lumberjacks mentioned they usually see you with the coyotes in the forest,” Ford said absentmindedly, distracted by how thickly knotted the creature’s hair was. It was stuck full of burrs, sticks and leaves and other things. “Do you ever get lonely out there, I wonder? You’re not exactly one of the coyotes - unless they’re a pack of creatures able to shapeshift between human and coyote forms, but I’ve not seen any evidence of such a thing. Just you, hm?”

Ford sighed, thumb running soothingly up and down at the smooth plane of forehead, rhythm irregular with his fingers fiddling with the creature’s hair. 

“I can understand that feeling,” he said quietly. 

The creature blinked at him, brown eyes warm. It watched Ford with an easy peace - it had firmly decided he wasn’t a threat, it seemed. 

They were of the same ilk, after all. Two pariahs, finding solace in the woods. 

Ford’s eyes drifted downwards, to where the snare was a thin, silver line standing out against skin mottled with bruises where the creature had struggled against its binds. There were small traces of blood, Ford could see now that he was close enough, where the metal had bit and dug into the creature’s skin as it strained. 

Ford bit the inside of his cheek. In retrospect, perhaps a cage trap would have been more humane. 

“Alright,” he sighed, already mentally preparing himself for the incoming ordeal, detangling his hand from the creature’s hair and reaching for the snare, “Let’s get this over with.”

A wild animal, or in this case, wild animal-like creature, couldn’t be expected to understand the nuanced difference between trying to help, and intentionally hurting. Ford knew this. A cat with its paw stuck in something would not understand that the person trying to free it did not mean to hurt it, or that the pain was unfortunate and unintentional. It only felt the hurt, and reacted. It was an animal, and that was the way animals thought and behaved.

For this reason, Ford knew that freeing the creature from the snare would likely break this odd truce-bond of theirs. It had to be done, Ford thought heavily. A cage trap would indeed have been wiser.

But as his fingers fit around the wire, fidgeting with the latch, the creature only tensed as the wire moved on its neck. It didn’t even growl, just making a quiet, unhappy sound, almost like a whine. It blinked at Ford, eyes pitiful and pained but somehow not defensive at all. Like it knew Ford wasn’t trying to hurt it.

Intelligence, or strong pack-bonding? Ford wondered. Or perhaps it simply doesn’t feel pain the same way…

Carefully, Ford slipped the snare back over the creature’s head, then rose, taking a few cautious steps back. The creature merely stared up at him, alert and calm. It slowly moved, testing its now free range. Its hand came up to its neck, pawing at the air cautiously.

It twisted its neck this way and that, as though to loosen stiff muscles. Its gaze flit down to the snare, now inactive and unsprung.

With a soft growl towards the trap, it prodded on all fours around the snare, coming to stop in front of Ford. It blinked up at him, like it was waiting for him to move first.

Ford gave a small smile. “I suppose you have a pack to get back to, hm? I won’t keep you.” He stepped back, slipping his journal into the inside pocket of his coat. “Farewell, fearsome Coyote-Man of Gravity Falls.”

Putting a few more steps of distance between them, Ford turned his back to the creature. He sighed, shook himself, and began to walk back to his lab.

But not a minute into the trek, there was a rustle behind him. Ford turned, and was surprised to meet the warm brown eyes of the creature, walking - crawling, really - behind him.

Experimentally, Ford briskly walked further. The creature followed.

Ford stopped in his tracks, and it stopped too, blinking up at him curiously, as though wondering what made him stop. 

Slowly, a genuine smile hesitantly spread across Ford’s face. “Are you following me?”

The creature of course gave no indication of understanding, but it did shift closer to him, leaning casually against Ford’s leg and looking around. Like a cautious dog.

Ford chuckled softly, reaching down to pet the creature’s hair fondly. “A wise choice. I have some salve for your neck, and some more food for you, if you’d like it.”

Ford didn’t often have guests over, but somehow, this didn’t feel so daunting. The creature chuffed softly at him, butting its head into Ford’s leg in a friendly manner.

“Who knows,” Ford said, running his fingers through the creature’s matted hair, “Maybe I’ll be able to learn more about you still, hm?”

The warm presence at Ford’s side already felt like it had been there the whole time. Like a missing piece slotting seamlessly back into the incomplete jigsaw of Ford’s heart.

Despite his better intelligence, he knew he was growing attached to this odd creature. It filled a cold, long-frozen part of him, called the phantom ache like that of a missing limb. He knew why.

Its eyes were just like his.

Bittersweet warmth filled him and he couldn’t help but murmur, just between the two of them, “Stanley would have loved you.”