#ex-aid speculation

[ca-8]

"Thank You, Angel..." (Part 1 of ???)

Silence screamed.

Drops of decay either echoed in the distance or fell inches from his withered nose. They aided in the cackles and chirps and growls that erupted from within each shadow. Each shadow that held home of the little critters with those little desperate, famished white eyes and wide toothless grins ready to devour anything with even a hint of a pulse. And when those critters couldn't stand the empty pits of their stomachs, those cackles and chirps and growls and drops of decay sang along with the tormenting squelches and tears of his miserly flesh ripping off and into those widened, toothless grins. And when they were done, after hours of slow, burning agony and screaming filling their stomachs, and the decay hushed to sleep as those horrible little critters scurried off toward their master -

silence screamed.

DogDay hated it all. He hated each sound of falling wood or concrete or spare intestine hitting the floor. He despised the critter's sounds as they drew near. But most of all, he hated the silence, because it was a constant reminder that his friends were gone and no hope gave a breath.

All alone. Always alone. With nothing but a wonder as to when he would finally draw his last breath.

Poppy's words once gave him back a lifelike glimmer. She speculated that someone had to come back here to save them all, an ex-worker, a total stranger -

an Angel, perhaps.

Just someone, anyone who can release them of this constant, lingering, rotting despair.

But so much time has passed. DogDay lost count at…he didn't even know, it's just been years and years and years, perhaps even decades. An eternity of this sickening silence since the day their revolutionary feast took place.

That glimmer was smothered out long ago.

.

.

.

.

.

Were those footsteps?

Not the little pitter-patter of those godforsaken critters, no - human footsteps. They were distant, but carefully drew near. As they closed the distance, a shriek from those little monsters echoed throughout the prison.

DogDay's head perked up, but only slightly. If he had a little more energy he'd call out for help, and more certainty too. Maybe he was finally going mad. Maybe what's left inside his head is feeding him false hope with these made up sounds hinting to a rescue.

No, not a rescue. Whatever he had left was drowned in the past.

His head slumped back down, and critter's shrieks halted. But the footsteps grew closer. DogDay didn't want to remove his gaze from the floor and risk disappointment, he knew it was nothing, that even if someone managed to sneak in here, there was no way they would survive this hell. He knew that thing was right, no one was coming to save-

"Oooooh nooo…"

His head sprung up, earning a little gasp from a

a human. An actual human, standing right there in front of him. It - They - couldn't be a hallucination, could it?

No. No hallucination. No human either. With how those lights beamed down on their glowing, moving skin and illuminating the life in those eyes, this was a blessing from Above. "Hello…?"

DogDay realized they were inching closer, but he was too stunned to flinch or tell them to get away. He could only voice his stagger.

"You…You're Poppy's Angel," he choked out through his voice box. "Come to save us…!"

The Angel blinked. "Uh, yeah…" Their eyes were widened; no surprise, anyone not too familiar with this decrepit place would be shocked to see him like this. A pathetic, filthy excuse of a dog wasting away. That's what they were thinking. They had to be. "Nothing left to save, not here…" He held his head back down.

"What're you talking about?" Their voice was as sweet as honey, so filled with life.

"You're in CatNap's home, Angel. Their home." Just saying that thing's name left a disgusting bittersweet taste in DogDay's mouth, but he was given a second chance at being useful, he had to take it.

"A million of pairs of eyes are on you right now," he continued. "Watching…waiting….hungry." A faint spark of terror flooded the (e/c) in those beautiful, breathing eyes. "They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit." He spat out the last word before heaving in a gasp. "…fill what feels empty inside themselves."

"I-Is that…what happened to you, DogDay….?" they asked, eyeing the bitter remains of his lower half.

They knew his name. He appreciated that, although couldn't express it too much. "I'm afraid so, Angel. Because of…that…that thing. CatNap. The Prototype is his god, and this is what he does to heretics."

The Angel snuck a glance at the darkened hallway outside their halo and quickly returned their gaze to DogDay. He continued.

"These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate, and in return, they are fed." DogDay coughed. Black substance spewed out of his mouth and onto the floor. "We tried to fight it, the Prototype's control. I'm…the last of the smiling cri-"

His right arm fell to his side.

…Wait.

DogDay's ears bucked up and he turned to his side. His right arm dangled heavily right by his torso, and the belts that were supposed to be supporting it up to the ceiling were cut short. His gaze whirled to his left side and saw the Angel reaching up to cut off the other belts.

"Angel! Wh-Wh-What're you doing?" he frantically yelped, swinging his torso back and forth.

"Sorry to cut your speech-thing off so quickly, but I think we may have a problem!"

It was at that moment DogDay heard the heightening shrills and screeches from the critters. A sharp chill ran down him and his heart stopped. They were coming; so many were coming! Coming for him! He was about to die if they couldn't get away!

"Angel, please, go! Leave me! Save yourself!" he pleaded desperately. A growl erupted right next to his ear, and DogDay turned to come face-to-face with a miniature Bobby Bearhug. A scream almost escaped his throat until a small flare flew past his face and shot mini Bobby back into the darkness.

"I'm sorry, but could you stop moving so much? This is hard enough as it is!" As they said that, their knife (which he noticed was strangely colorfully patched together) cut through the first of the two left belts. His body darted right towards the floor, but not until Angel caught him with their arm.

"Angel PLEASE! I beg you!" Tears pricked his empty sockets. The shrills were so loud they might as well be on top of them.

But the Angel kept their gaze glued onto the last belt, and as soon as mini CraftyCorn entered the cell, he was finally free.

The Angel hopped down and kicked mini CraftyCorn back into DogDay's worst nightmare: a sea of predators mirroring his friend's appearances. The Angel spun around and ran the opposite direction.

"Don't worry, I got yo- OOOOOO-!!!" The floor collapsed beneath them, and they landed right onto the bottom floor. Well, more like the Angel fell right onto the floor with DogDay cushioned safely on top of them.

This couldn't possible get any worse.

DogDay tried turning his head. "Angel? Are you okay? I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it! I didn't mean for this to happen! I swear!" He wanted to get off of them to ease whatever pain they were in, but his arms were held up for so long, he could barely even feel anything in them anymore. 'Pathetic! I'm pathetic!'

"I'm fine…I think-!" The Angel got up and sprinted to the end of the hallway. "Just don't look back!"

They held DogDay in a position where his only option was to look back. Snuggled tightly underneath their arm, he watched as a tsunami of critters dashed towards them, snarling with hunger. Hunger for him and his Angel.

He whimpered loudly until they spun him around. "Sorry-! Sorry! I got you!" A flash of another critter was summoned to the right, then suddenly wished away by the bright flash of the Angel's flare. DogDay couldn't do anything, only let his heart squeeze and whimper at the sudden sight of painful reminders until they're blown away by the Angel. He looked up, their gaze was locked forward, doing what he should be doing.

But he couldn't. He was worthless. Just like that day.

The poor withered dog squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't watch anymore. If it weren't for his weak arms, he would cover his ears as the screams of the damned drew ever so near, or maybe do something actually useful. He felt himself get heaved up and a sudden wind blew against his tattered face. Then, he was lowered, and the Angel gasped for air.

Where were they going? Was there even an exit? He couldn't look. He didn't want to look. If he opened his eyes he would only see the Angel get devoured and it would be all his fault.

It wasn't until they were both thrusted into the air that his eyes were finally forced open. Below them was a deep pit of darkness with the critters nearing the edge they hurled over. For a second, he thought they had jumped towards an everlasting sleep, until the Angel landed right onto a lift.

The door shut behind them, and devastating shrills and shrieks were muffled. They were….safe. DogDay was safe, and the Angel didn't die. He hadn't killed them after all.

The Angel gently lowered him onto the floor of the lift and pressed the button to lower them back into, if he could remember correctly….Playcare. They collapsed onto the floor, and the thud snapped him back to reality.

"Angel! Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry!" DogDay tried to haul himself towards them until they let out a strange chuckle.

"That…holy shit. That was awesome! But also terrifying. And tiring. God, my legs, I'll be surprised if I can even walk once we get down there. What were those things? You called them critters? I kinda feel bad for thinking they were kinda cute now, SHEESH those little devils were relentless!"

The Angel went on and on and on and…not a hint of anger was on their face. DogDay only stared at them in disbelief. They hopped on their knees and leaned closer to him, making him flinch.

"Anyways, are you okay? I don't know why you're asking me, you're clearly the one who needs help here! How long have you been down here? Actually don't answer that. What happened to you-? Wait, wait, don't answer that either, sorry!"

"You…." He finally choked out something. "You…saved me."

"…Well yeah!" A big smile graced their lips. How were they glowing even brighter than before?

"You…You saved me…!"

"….Yeah! Go team!"

Something was building up in his throat. More tears streamed down his face, but there weren't any rivers of regret or disappointment or self-hatred… DogDay leaned into his Angel's chest.

"Oh, hello!" they said cheerfully.

DogDay sniffed and looked up, and for once, a big, genuine smile filled his face. "Thank you, Angel…! Thank you so much!"

They froze there for a second, and their stunned expression melted to that of warmth. He felt their hands wrap around him and gently caress his back. Nothing could ever feel more soothing.

Softly, they giggled. "Hey, call me (Y/n), alright? You're giving me too much credit." ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙

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[ckret2]

Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing." 

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut. 

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted  from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking." 

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Timeline: Part 7 - October 2017

For earlier timeline posts: click here or here.

There are three installments of the "Meghan's PR Timeline" today, which will see us finish out 2017: October 2017, November 2017, and December 2017.

One particularly interesting observation about this period of time is that from mid-October to mid-November, there are actually whole days without a single item or piece about Meghan. It's very strange because from about the end of April 2017 to the end of September 2017, we were being bombarded DAILY by stories about Meghan.

Is the missing coverage because those pages, stories, and articles were scrubbed in 2018/2019 when Meghan's PR was cleaning up her image?

Did Meghan finally get the ring in early October and no longer needed her PR to pressure Harry and force him to propose?

Or is it the quiet before the storm (i.e., the engagement announcement)? Meghan decided to drop coverage to get more bang when the engagement was announced?

10/1/2017: Toronto Invictus Games Closing Ceremony. Meghan, Doria, Jess, and Markus arrive early and are in a box. Meghan arrives first and is caught directing photographers where to go and what angles to use. Harry arrives later. Meghan leaks that Harry and Doria met at the closing ceremony and they get along fabulously.

(For additional context timeline-wise: 10/1/17 is the Route 19 Harvest Festival shooting in Las Vegas)

10/2/2017: Harry returns to London via Heathrow Airport and it's listed in the Court Circular. Meghan teases an engagement to E News and says that her friends have become Harry's family.

10/3/2017: Meghan merches her shoes from a September 2017 papwalk. She also tells Elle Magazine that she and Harry are unofficially engaged, and everyone knows.

10/4/2017: Meghan modernizes the monarchy if she marries Harry. Charles is in Malta.

10/5/2017: Ronan Farrow's Weinstein expose is published by The New York Times. Meghan merches her Invictus Games clothing - Opening Ceremony Outfit, Closing Ceremony Coat.

10/6/2017: Carole Middleton and Doria Ragland are the same.

10/7/2017: Charles's letter to Tony Blair about the hunting ban is published.

October 7th is the first day with no Meghan stories or Harkle coverage since early summer.

10/8/2017: Meghan has moved to London and is being driven by a royal chauffeur.

10/9/2017: Harry's ex Cressida makes the news for being connected to Harvey Weinstein. Jess Mulroney sources an "all about Meghan's bestie, Jess" story.

10/10/2017: Meghan's PR takes a dig at William and Kate, asking why they never hold hands. Kate makes her first public appearance since announcing her third pregnancy, implying that she is on the mend from HG.

10/11/2017: Meghan's 2011 film, Dysfunctional Friends, resurfaces. Her character is a photographer for male underwear models. Meghan tries to be a fashion influencer, gets linked to Julia Roberts, Naomi Watts, and Greta Lee as a major "power dresser". She also merches the nail polish she might wear for the wedding and/or the engagement announcement.

Meanwhile, Harry attends the 100 Women in Finance Gala Dinner. Kate's aide, Rebecca Deacon, receives the Royal Victorian Order. Buckingham Palace announces that Charles will lay wreaths at the Cenotaph for The Queen during the Remembrance Sunday service, and The Queen returns to London, ending her summer Balmoral haloriday.

10/12/2017: The Queen's first day back in London/work following summer holidays. Harry has #1 sexiest celebrity beard. (No, they're not talking about Meghan. They mean the actual hair on his face.)

10/13/2017: Meghan and Harry leak that they're house-hunting in the Cotswolds for a marital home and merch a few properties in the Daily Mail. Meghan also teases wedding speculation and Soho Farmhouse's newest financial report reveals that they lost $34.48 million in 2017 (hence the Harkle sponcon throughout 2018)

10/14/2017: Royals living in the US - forgotten Spencer cousins who call the American Pacific Northwest home.

10/15/2017: Meghan confirms that she is finished with Suits when Season 7 wraps in November. #MeToo movement begins and James Middleton, Donna Air split is revealed.

10/16/2017: Meghan leaks that she and Harry are already engaged but won't announce it until Suits filming has ended. Harry attends the WellChild Awards. Also, Harry tells people that he doesn't want a formal pageanty Cambridge-like wedding.

Meanwhile, Harry accompanies William and Kate to an engagement celebrating the release of Paddington 2.

10/17/2017: No new Meghan or Harkle stories, but Eugenie is papped in Los Angeles; William and Kate announce the baby is due in April; and Camilla gives a landmark speech on osteoporosis.

10/18/2017: Meghan leaks to the Daily Mail that she and Harry had tea with The Queen at Buckingham Palace on October 12th, and it's the first time Meghan met Her Majesty.

Note: This version of events contradicting Harry's claim in Spare that Meghan met The Queen for the first time on Sunday at the Royal Lodge while visiting the Yorks. October 12th is a Wednesday.

10/19/2017: Meghan teases Harry's proposal plan.

10/20/2017: Meghan's copycatting of Diana's outfits and behavior finally gets noticed. Meghan hints about etiquette lessons and teases the engagement.

Samantha Markle sets up a gofundme to raise money for an accessible home as her MS progresses, capitalizing on Meghan's fame.

10/21/2017: No new Meghan or Harkle stories.

10/22/2017: No new Meghan or Harkle stories.

10/23/2017: Harry has an away day in Lancashire.

10/24/2017: Meghan makes a dig at Kate - why she never wears red nail polish.

10/25/2017: Meghan merches her voice (perhaps this is when she starts negotiating for a Disney documentary voiceover gig...).

10/26/2017: DailyMailTV discusses Meghan's ancestry. Meanwhile, Harry and Meghan leak that:

Harry has had a crush on Meghan since 2015 when he saw her on Suits and he did tell friends back then that she was his ideal woman.

KP aides have been instructed to begin wedding planning and are reviewing dates.

The Cambridges announced Kate's pregnancy early because protocol requires the wedding can't take place until after the baby is born.

10/27/2017: Channel 4 broadcasts a "10 Things About Meghan Markle" documentary.

10/28/2017: Meghan and Harry are actually related! They're distant cousins.

10/29/2017: No new Meghan or Harkle stories.

10/30/2017: No new Meghan or Harkle stories.

10/31/2017: Harry is in Chicago to attend the Barack Obama Foundation Summit, and Charles and Camilla are in Singapore for royal tour.

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

About the Kate called Harry story. I understand Harry wants to link himself to the BRF for potential deals but why Kate ? Worse, just days after Meghan's Kate unfairly got away with it story.

Okay, this is just speculation on my part, but I suspect that was aimed at Meghan. He knows Meghan is jealous of Kate and he figured that story would drive her wild. I think that was the first salvo of the War of the Sussexes. But, again, pure speculation here.

It could be that the ex-KP aides he is working with are used to leaking stories about how close he supposedly was to Kate. That was KP’s bread and butter for years. He may not realize that no one believes that anymore.

[tomorrowusa]

Today is January 1st. There are just 309 days until Election Day.

We can't rely on a clever legal gimmick or some preternatural force to prevent a Trump victory. We have to do it ourselves with our organizing and our votes.

Three young women who worked in the Trump White House had a conversation with ABC's Jonathan Karl before the end of 2023. Sarah Matthews, Cassidy Hutchinson, and Alyssa Farah Griffin went on to testify before the House January 6th Committee. The trio said that a second Trump term would be even worse than the first.

Former aides warn of 'running out of time' to prevent Trump re-election

All three gave testimony to the US House committee investigating Trump’s efforts to overturn his 2020 election defeat as well as the 6 January 6 Capitol attack staged by his supporters. And they warned in an unprecedented television interview on Sunday that time was short to prevent a second Trump administration in which they insist his behavior would be much worse. “People in general have short memories, and might forget the chaos of the Trump years,” Sarah Matthews, a former deputy White House press secretary who resigned on the day of the deadly Capitol riot, said on ABC’s This Week. “They also might not just be paying attention to what he’s saying now – and the threat to democracy that exists. It does really concern me if he makes it to the general [election] that he could win. I’m still hopeful that we can defeat him in the primaries, but we’re running out of time.” [ ... ] Hutchinson, ex-aide to Trump’s chief of staff Mark Meadows, said voters needed to believe Trump when he said he would be a dictator on his first day back in the White House. “The fact that he feels that he needs to lean into being a dictator alone shows that he is a weak and feeble man,” she said. Matthews, meanwhile, said Trump had already signaled what his second administration would look like. “We don’t need to speculate because we already saw it play out,” she said.

The three former staffers know that Trump's dictator and vermin rantings are not just talk. Sarah Matthews, Cassidy Hutchinson, and Alyssa Farah Griffin should be taken more seriously than some blowhard on Fox News who's attempting to dismiss Trump's Hitlerian references.

[renstears]

Nightbringer theories (Obey Me; SPOILERS!)

Alrighty so I decided to play Nightbringer after being scared of it for the past few weeks; so far, I have some questions and theories in mind. I’m still on Lesson 8 so I’m not sure if most of my theories here are gonna be right or just straight up wrong.

Questions & Theories:

- Since Solomon came with us to the past (or more like came to the past to come aid for our ass), wouldn’t there be a chance the Solomon from THAT timeline/past meet the present Solomon we know of? Wouldn’t this create a whole time paradox….?

- Lilith’s body got disappeared by Diavolo so that she can get reincarnated as a human; would there be a chance we get to see her reincarnated form at least if we don’t see her angel form? Also, reminder that Lucifer is the only brother who knows she got reincarnated, so most likely the other 6 brothers will have a huge fucking melt down like last time in the previous Obey Me game.

- When the game first started, we hear Solomon narrating a bit about Barbatos and this human Barbatos went to. Solomon used they/them pronouns for the human, at first, I thought it might be us/MC—but then it occurred to me, why would the devs only now reveal our/MC’s appearance and the timeline that Barbatos met this human must’ve been a very very long time. Either 1. They used they/them pronouns for the human to keep their identity hidden until revealed later on 2. The human is either one of our ancestors/related to Lilith’s reincarnated form or 3. This human might be a Biblical figure from the Bible; if you go to the official Obey Me Instagram; they illustrated Barbatos controlling a puppet that looks like a king (some speculated the king is David as he is the father of Solomon).

- In another illustration made by the official Obey Me cast on Instagram, it shows Diavolo gesturing to a red apple. Either this is indicating he was the one that lured Eve to eat the apple and regretted that decision which is the reason why he decided to improve his behaviors later in life.

- Man when I heard Raphael’s voice during Asmo’s arc I thought it was Adam, but nvm, it wasn’t. We may see Adam in the story though, like I mentioned in one of my previous posts, Adam was Lilith’s ex husband, so I don’t doubt that the devs would add an element of it to the story.

- There isn’t much information about Barbatos in demonology and from mythologies, but it's ironic that from said mythologies, Barbatos has the ability to reconcile arguments between friends/rulers but he seems to have this heavy dislike towards Solomon and refuses to speak about it. I seriously wonder what Solomon did bc this man fucking forgot what he even did to the butler.

- While I was doing research on Barbatos, I stumbled upon this (credits to Myths and Folklore wiki editors!) according to the The Infernal Dictionary (a book of demonology). This is stated about Barbatos:

"Barbatos, great and powerful demon, count-duke in the underworld, a type of Robin Hood; he is shown in the form of an archer or a hunter; He is found in forests. Four kings sound the horn in front of him. He's acquired the knowledge to divine the speaking of birds, the roar of bulls, dogs barking and screaming various animals. He knows the locations of buried treasures, say magicians. He reconciles quarreled friends. This demon, who was once of the order of Virtues of Heaven or that of dominions, is reduced today to commanding thirty hellish legions. He knows the past and the future."

I personally don't think in the game, Barbatos is an angel (or maybe he is an angel but man's disappeared for so long everyone forgot him and my guy turned into a demon afterwards/hj). It'll be interesting to see his lore and how the devs wrote his backstory. In mythologies, he's illustrated looking like Robin Hood, so maybe Barbatos (in the game) went to the human to give them justice??? Take my theories with a pinch of salt.

And that's all I can think of, I'll make more theories as I continue playing in my free time.

[sykam0re]

Oh my god I was talking with @cryptidanaphafsi on a call earlier and we were discussing the potential plot/villain for the side order DLC

AND WHILE I CANNOT SAY WHETHER OR NOT I'M RIGHT YET....DAMN IT'S SUCH A GOOD THOUGHT TOO

So sit back, grab your popcorn, and enjoy this bit of speculation we came up with 👀✨️

Ok, so, this much is probably obvious given Agent 8's presumable presence alongside Pearl and Marina but: it's likely gonna be Tartar, if not someone new. But there's an issue with that!!

The NILS statue boss fight cast Tartar into the sea. Right...?

Well, yes. But there's another thing to consider: Tartar is an AI. A computer program set to preserve humanity and its memory and pass its knowledge on to the next sentient species should they go extinct (which, of course, they did). The Tartar we fight in Octo Expansion witnessed humanity's downfall and the rise of cephalopod kind and sentient sealife...

And was disgusted by it.

But, with the Alterna logs in 3 revealling the last known humans of Alterna being the direct cause for squid and octopus evolution, we know two new tidbits of information that may play into the DLC somehow:

• The scientist that created Tartar likely resided in Alterna (it was home to humanity's greatest minds after all)

• That the inklings and octolings likely share a similar set of brainwaves/some similarity with humans, given they evolved directly from their hopes and dreams through those ceiling crystals

We even see what appears to be an almost neuron-esque effect in the side order trailer, making this idea even more possible

Why is this important? Well...

What if there was another Tartar somehow?

After all, Tartar was an AI. A computer program, no doubt the scientist that made him kept a backup or beta version of him somewhere! Perhaps...even being the scaffolding for the creation of O.R.C.A, given the similarity between Kamabo Co.'s tests and those that O.R.C.A tasks you with in Alterna. And if that's the case, what if after the events of Splatoon 3's story mode...

O.R.C.A got corrupted?

And that backup Tartar somehow managed to gain control?

Of course, it'd have no knowledge of the other Tartar or even humanity's demise. It'd be a blank slate; a sterile form of the murderous machine we defeat in Octo Expansion. But how on earth could it be a danger then? Well, that's when we go back to Tartar being a manmade machine, an AI, a program. One made to follow a single order: preserve humanity, and pass on its knowledge.

Being that this Tartar never saw or likely even knew of humanity being extinct, it would possibly try and continue in its protocol. But: where are the humans? It has to find them.

Then...we have the Inklings and Octolings. Those evolved directly from humanity's last wishes, likely even sharing similar if not identical thought patterns and brain waves to them.

Meaning that this second Tartar could very well mistake them for some strange or even ill form of humans. Perhaps, it encounters Agent 8. Perhaps it mistakes them for a human, and in trying to 'protect' and 'preserve' them, it takes the technology it has at its disposal in Alterna to investigate. To look into 8's memories, and try and understand what has happened, and where all the other 'humans' have gone. Maybe even trying to 'clone' them to make more 'humans'? I'm not quite sure yet.

Maybe the main part of the DLC is 8 fighting their way through their own memories trying to wake up and escape. Perhaps the Pearl and Marina we encounter in 8's head is due to Marina hacking into this Tartar to speak to them; after all, she and Pearl presumably still have contact with (Ex) Captain Cuttlefish, and may be aware of the goings on in Alterna as a result.

Maybe once 8 wakes up you are aided by a returning 4 to get you out of there and get you to safety. Maybe you have to fight Tartar again, no longer able to fulfill its objective and thus destroying everything to wipe the slate clean again. Maybe you even have to fight a memory of yourself...

Either way, the thought of a corrupt O.R.C.A giving way to a directive-following, unintentionally harming beta form of Tartar is an incredibly interesting thought to me and I wanted to share with you all :)

If you read this far: yippie!! I hope you enjoyed!!

And if this is somehow in any way even close to what we actually get, I will kick myself hskshs

See you when Side Order drops :D

[saddest-wettest-beast-tournament]

Ensemble Stars Music Showdown Bracket

The brackets have been all set up! Round one will begin tomorrow, 5/11, around 5 PM EST and will run for 1 day

Make as much propaganda as you want and if you want me to rb it make sure to tag me in it

Going to put the brackets in text format under the cut

Bracket A

Left Side

1: Crazy Roulette (Crazy:B) vs Date Plan A to Z (√AtoZ)

2: PARANOIA STREET (Crazy:B) vs Rakuen Tsuihou -Faith Conquest- (Eden)

3: Omoi no Kakera (Switch) vs Promise Swords (Knights)

4: You’re Speculation (ALKALOID) vs RIOT WOLF (Koga)

5: Sei Shounen Yuugi (ex-Valkyrie) vs TRICK with TREAT!! (2wink)

6: Yuukyou Seishunka (Valkyrie & AKATSUKI) vs The Beast of the End (Adam)

7: Little Little Prince Star (Tori) vs Zan -Ketsui no Yaiba- (AKATSUKI)

8: NA NA NA SUMMER NIGHT BeeAT (Crazy:B) vs Kanata e no Uta (Kanata)

9: Black Ball-Room (DEADMANZ) vs d’Arc (ex-Valkyrie)

10: Daydream×Reality (Trickstar) vs VIVID ROLE-PLAYING (Sora)

11: Sleeper Mystery Train (Double Face) vs Tell Your World (2wink & Switch)

12: Sajou no Roukaku (ex-Valkyrie) vs Yoru ni Kakeru (ALKALOID & Double Face)

13: Twilight Pentagram (Altered/Five Eccentrics) vs Heart aid Cafeteria (BLEND+)

14: Voice of Sword (Knights) vs Living on the Edge (ALKALOID)

15: The Tempest Night (fine) vs Ryusei Hanabi (RYUSEITAI)

16: Honeycomb Summer (Crazy:B) vs Kiss of Life (ALKALOID)

Right Side

1: Fight for Judge (Knights) vs Melody in the Dark (UNDEAD)

2: Midnight Butlers (XXVeil) vs VERMILION (ALKALOID)

3: U.S.A. (Crazy:B & UNDEAD) vs Moonlight Disco (Getto Spectacle)

4: Have you been naughty or nice? (Flambé!) vs Uruwashi no Nightingale (Valkyrie)

5: Magic for your “Switch” (Switch) vs Matsuriyo Emaki (AKATSUKI)

6: Meikyuu Denshi Kairou (Valkyrie) vs Heart Prism・Symmetry (2wink)

7: FIST OF SOUL (Butou-kai) vs Feathers of Ark (fine)

8: BRAND NEW STARS!! (All) vs Feather Heartache (Kaoru)

9: How to move’n chess (Izumi, Arashi, Nazuna, & Kuro) vs Unstoppable Love! (Trickstar)

10: Yukai Tsuukai That's Alright! (MaM) vs Shippuu Jinrai Shinobi Michi (Shinobu)

11: Savage Love Affair (UNDEAD) vs Nekketsu☆Ryusei Ninpouchou (RYUSEITAI)

12: Or the Beautiful Golden Drop (Knights) vs Birthday of Music! (Leo)

13: Death Game Holic (DEADMANZ) vs Noir Neige (La Mort)

14: Stippling (Double Face) vs Cloth Waltz (Shu)

15: FORBIDDEN RAIN (UNDEAD) vs PERFECTLY-IMPERFECT (UNDEAD & AKATSUKI)

16: Eccentric Party Night!! (Five Eccentrics) vs Genuine Revelation (ex-fine)

Bracket B

Left Side

1: =EYE= (Double Face) vs Awakening Myth (Eden)

2: Crush of Judgement (Knights Killers) vs Knights the Phantom Thief (Knights)

3: Be the Party Bee! (Crazy:B) vs Gate of the Abyss (UNDEAD)

4: Mystic Fragrance (Knights) vs Eternal Weaving (Valkyrie)

5: Poison Strategy (Ibara) vs Psyche’s Butterfly (Eden)

6: Hysteric Humanoid (ALKALOID) vs Marine Blue Rendezvous (Kanata)

7: Akatsuki Iroha Uta (AKATSUKI) vs Niichan Cheer Squad☆ (Nazuna)

8: Endless Vide (Fraternity) vs Gekkou Kitan (AKATSUKI)

9: RAINBOW CIRCUS (fine) vs See You Again (Madara)

10: Brilliant Smile (Switch) vs Sunlit Smile (Eve)

11: Kohaku to Ruri no Rondo (Mika) vs Melty♡Kitchen (Ra*bits)

12: Tenka Muteki☆Meteorangers! (RYUSEITAI) vs Secret Gravity (Natsume)

13: Little Romance (Knights) vs Artistic Partisan (ALKALOID & Valkyrie)

14: Coruscate Breeze (Knights) vs Ironic Blue (Izumi)

15: Ghostic Treat House (fine) vs Helter-Spider (Crazy:B)

16: Mayonaka no Nocturne (Ritsu) vs Bloody Moon Vampire (Rei)

Right Side

1: Yubisaki no Ariadne (Crazy:B) vs Distorted Heart (ALKALOID)

2: Acanthe (Valkyrie) vs Noisy:Beep (Crazy:B)

3: Article of Faith (Knights) vs Raisanka (Valkyrie)

4: RISKY VENUS (Crazy:B) vs FALLIN' LOVE=IT'S WONDERLAND (Ra*bits)

5: Believe 4 leaves (ALKALOID) vs Nightless World (UNDEAD)

6: Mémoire Antique (Valkyrie) vs Saql Faith (Adonis)

7: Play “Tag” (2wink) vs JEWEL STONE (Arashi)

8: Life is so Dramatic!! (SCREEN10) vs Rainbow Stairway (Jin & Akiomi)

9: Owaranai Symphonia (fine) vs Romancing Cruise (Switch)

10: Heart Heat Beat (RYUSEITAI) vs Fantastic Days◎ (Hiyori)

11: Majestic Magic (Switch & Eden) vs IMMORAL WORLD (UNDEAD)

12: Break the Prison (UNDEAD) vs Silent Oath (Knights)

13: Honey Milk wa Okonomi de (UNDEAD) vs No name yet (Double Face)

14: Tsubasa Moratorium (ALKALOID) vs Miwaku Geki (Valkyrie)

15: Melting Rouge Soul (Adam) vs Ruby Love (Eve)

16: Valentine Eve’s Nightmare (UNDEAD) vs Trap for You (Eve)

[5eraphim]

speculating about the "plot" of my favorite album of 2023 (Married in Mount Airy, Nicole Dollanganger) 🍸🤍🌙💎💒

(Unedited)

Before going into spoilers/the album's storyline, I want to commend how STELLAR the album's production was, and how far @nicoledollanganger has come since starting out making dream pop recorded in her bathroom/bedroom on garage band (still love that music, but the progress speaks for itself imo). This album is nothing less than hauntingly beautiful, aided in no small part by the final composition and how the story is woven amid the vocals, instrumentation and lyrics. It's the kind of music so good it makes me want to SCREAM, on god.

Favorite tracks were: Married in Mount Airy, Gold Satin Dreamer, Whispering Glades, Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus and Moonlite

(Spoilers below, duh)

my interpretation of the story told by the album starts with the bride running away with her husband on their honeymoon (Married in Mount Airy) Their good times together, though with an underlining eeriness resting below the surface (Gold Satin Dreamer and Runnin' Free). The husband relapsing/worsening alcoholism and violent temper (Dogwood) The bride begging her husband to stop drinking and the violent behavior (My Darling True) Knowing what she has to do, but overwhelmed with fear and hesitation- she knows what she has to do if she wants to live, and she has a feeling tonight's the night, but she can't help but fear having to go through with it. (Some Time After Midnight)

The bride's ultimatum to put an end to the toxic relationship with her husband confessing to the murder of her husband. (Bad Man) The Bride shoots her husband late in the night, leaving him to rot in the forest/reflecting on how bad they were for one another. (Nymphs finding the Head of Orpheus) Reflecting on what might have been the "worst" most dangerous nights shared with her ex-husband (Moonlite) Making her peace with what she's done, laying all the love she once had for her ex-husband to rest. (Whispering Glades)

The final track I'll Wait for Your Call is extremely bittersweet because, even after everything the Bride has gone through, and all she's done, there will always be a part of her that loves her ex-husband. And even in death, she can't help loving him from afar, and dreams about reuniting with him in the afterlife.

Also of note is how the ending instrumentation of "I'll Wait for your call" perfectly mirrors the opening music for the opening track, like a tragic ouroboros. IMO, the perfect way to end an album written to sound like a surreal dream you can't awaken from. Like Mount Airy is this fucked up purgatory for these two sinners cursed to remain tethered together till the end of time. The Groom cursed to relive a hell of his own making (constant drinking, endless wrath, stuck with a woman who loves him less and less with each passing day) and the Bride cursed to remain in the abusive relationship as punishment for her murder.

Heartbreaking, haunting- but undeniably beautiful. It's everything I love about Dream Pop and more, it was well worth the wait.

and like MY GODDDD, not to "spoil" the ending of the album (but also it's hard to spoil an album like this considering it's just something you gotta experience as a whole, but i digress) it's so brilliant to have the line "Where all you have to bring is your love of everything" from the MIMA's opening track work in tandem with the line "There's a spot in the grass in the grass waiting for you at Whispering Glades" Bringing the tale of a bride running away with her groom on their honeymoon; their love story ending with the bride murdering her husband and laying him to where she leaves her love of everything. Literally going from Married in Mount Airy to Buried in Mount Airy

My one nitpick here is that i'm not too crazy about the album's cover. I really love how she usually illustrates her own cover art for albums/EPs, and the image used is very uncanny valley and a bit stilted to me.

(but you know, this is completely subjective, and at least it's better than the cover for Heart Shaped Bed, again in my opinion. maybe i only feel this way bc there were so many lovely promos dropped before the album, i can't help but compare them. Idk why, but there's something so compelling about the image of her with the wired phone- I would personally vouch for that one as cover art)

[julianxpark]

[cis male and he/him] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [JULIAN PARK]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [JUSTIN H MIN]. You must be the [THIRTY FOUR] year old [UNEMPLOYED]. Word is you’re [OPTIMISTIC] but can also be a bit [PASSIVE] and your favorite song is [KOOL AID BY ROYEL OTIS]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

INFORMATION:

fullname. julian park (줄리안 파크)

nicknames. none.

gender. cis male

pronouns. he / him

d.o.b. august 16th, 1990 | ( 34 years old )

astrology. leo ☀ cancer ☾  aries ↑

birth place. san diego, california.

hometown. san diego, california.

current residence. aurora bay, california. ( @aurorabayaesthetic​ )

occupation. unemployed / ex-actor.

religion. buddist.

tattoos. matching tattoo with cast mates.

piercings. none.

marital status. single.

sexual preference. pansexual.

family. ha-won park ( mother ), joon park ( father ), simon park ( stepfather ) , half-sister (WC).

children. none.

CHARACTER INSPO:

shane mccarthy ( will they or won't they by ava wilder ), smith jarrett ( sex and the city ), rick dalton ( once upon a time in hollywood ), vince chase ( entourage ).

PERSONALITY:

+ optimistic, friendly, talented. - passive, directionless, self-deprecating.

BIOGRAPHY:

Julian Park had never wanted to be an actor. That's what he has always said, the many times he's been interviewed over the years. When he was discovered at the ripe old age of 23, the ex-waiter would have had no idea what his life would become. All he ever wanted was to make good tips and get stoned with his friends, that was why he moved from San Diego to Los Angeles after all. That was why he was working as a waiter in the Bestia, an up-and-coming italian restaurant that attracted a lot of the Hollywood crowd. Julian had always enjoys schmoozing, knowing what people wanted to hear was his secret talent and it paid off in the hospitality industry. It wasn't until he was serving Roman Schultz, a network showrunner - that Julian realised that maybe there was more to life than charming your way into getting bigger tips.

When he was invited to audition for the lead in a paranormal drama aimed at teenagers, Julian nearly didn't bother showing up. What did he know about acting? Other than pretending to be interested in the random conversations with regulars and saying he was going to call a few one-night stands when he never had any intention of doing so, he had no experience with it. But as he read the lines aloud to a panel of producers and casting directors, Julian could feel himself become someone else. He became Harrison Chu. A ghost who haunted his love interest, a rookie cop, into solving his own murder.

And he would continue being Harrison Chu for the next ten years.

Off the back of the Twilight craze, the supernatural dramas were still on the rise but vampires were so done. The network said it was all about ghosts now. Throw in a 'will they or won't they' love dynamic between Julian and his co-star and it was a hit! The chemistry between the two leads was so intense that people often speculated that they were together in real life, although the two never confirmed it. The network would milk that tension for the better part of a decade.

The Hunt would air for nine seasons, from 2013 until the spring of 2023, when ratings had dropped far too low for the network to continue. Upon hearing that their ninth season would be their last, most of the cast and crew were relieved. All plot lines were exhausted to the point where it was borderline ridiculous. While they were like family, most of the cast were looking for other projects, wanting to grow as actors. But for Julian.. he'd only ever played Harrison. Shooting in Vancouver for ninth months of the year didn't leave much time for anything else, in between press tours, promo shoots and the convention circuit. The Hunt was the only experience he'd ever had in the film and television industry, and while it had made him rich and semi-famous in some circles, it didn't necessarily translate into range.

As things were finishing up on the show, Julian's agent kept pushing for audition after audition. Eventually, he did try out for a small indie movie with a well-known actor attached to make their directorial debut. It had Oscar bait written all over it and it generated a lot of buzz, but for all the wrong reasons. Critics said it was pretentious, the dialogue was stilted. And while Redditors online were lenient on Julian's acting, it did not bode well for his chances of launching into bigger budget films.

Thankfully, Julian wasn't the type to take things too personally and it wasn't as if he was necessarily needing a job right away. He had nine seasons of residuals and a dedicated fanbase, but away from the spotlight, he felt adrift once again. Life had been so easy on set, with a strict schedule and places to be. While it was exhausting, at least it was something to do. Since studios weren't necessarily banging down his door and his agent kept forgetting to return his calls, Julian started looking for inspiration elsewhere.

An interest in surfing is what had originally brought him to Aurora Bay. The perfect waves that lapped at the shore was the perfect reset from the hustle and bustle of Hollywood life, but it was still close enough if he did ever want to go back and throw his hat into the ring again. And while he may have no plan lined up for his future, he's in the perfect place to rediscover who he really is behind the lens.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS:

coming soon!

CURRENT CONNECTIONS:

roommates with @robinsantos and @ziggykyeons

close friends with @tillycai

[prnanxiety]

2/27/24

I wasn't at work today, but I wanted to write something about Aaron Bushnell.

I won't deny, I don't know what to make of it. I'm all about "from the river to the sea," but I'm also a psych nurse. My job is to prevent, and intervene in, suicide (among other things of course, to anyone who reads this blog). When someone wants to kill themselves, my jobs is to say "Hey! No. Lets try to help you first." The only suicides I ever find myself approving of are terminally ill, stage 4 cancer, age 90, on hospice, 6 months to live, hooked up to a respirator, doctor assisted, etc. The "You're on your way out anyway" crowd.

People like me do our jobs with that David Foster Wallace quote in our heads, about the fire rising in the burning building.

"Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire's flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It's not desiring the fall; it's terror of the flames."

It's why we do our jobs so closely with social workers. It's not uncommon that our suicidal patients are here because they've given up on solving one problem or another, whether that's drug addiction, or homelessness, or what have you. Problems where, I personally am just kinda there to keep them calm and medically stable, while the social worker flexes their muscles and makes options available for this patient where there previously weren't any.

So, suicide specifically to make a public statement is tough for me. I haven't met that patient yet. Would I stop aaron bushnell? I like to think I'd try to put him out first, though I don't know what I'd do to do that if I didn't have a fire extinguisher. I respect EMT's, and I'm not an EMT, so I'm not going to pretend that I have the training to know first aid for 80% surface area 3rd degree burns.

But that's not exactly the question here, is it? Seems like a lot of focus on Aaron by the people I know is "Did his suicide do anything." Normally, I'd pretty safely answer the question with "No." Suicide "at" something is sort of a case I've seen, in that I have patients who want to do things like "Hang myself on my ex girlfriend's porch, so when she comes home she can see what she did to me." We're trained to understand suicide as revenge doesn't work, for every other reason suicide doesn't work, but also because it probably isn't even going to have the desired effect the patient wants it to have. But that's a talk about dependency and codependency, and it's a tangent.

But this also isn't exactly suicide as revenge, so much as it is suicide as a statement, isn't it? "I'm an active duty serviceman who signed up to give my life for this country, and I can't be complicit in what this country is asking me to do, so I'm giving my life like I volunteered to do, only, in protest and demonstration." What do I say? How do I respond? If I was standing next to him, whether as a nurse on duty or a pedestrian, and either way a bystander, would I stop him? Is that complicit behavior, too?

Aaron Bushnell's given me a lot to think about, for this. I can tell he'll be on my mind for a while.

[homeosloven]

wait wait why was the ex pope bad. i’m not into christianity so i have no clue are people celebrating his death just bc he was a priest in power or did he do some shit

being a catholic already makes you a bad person, if you're a catholic priest you're worse, a bishop is worse than a priest, an archbishop is worse than a bishop, a cardinal is way worse than an archbishop and in the end of course there's the main bitch of them all, His Holiness the Pope, arguably the worst catholic on earth. Now, Mr Ratzinger here was a religious fundamentalist, opposed any and all attempts at modernizing the Church, he fought hard against anti-aids/anti-hiv campaigns that promoted safe sex/contraception (because the virus is god's punishment for promiscuity and homosexuality), he was militantly against same sex marriage and used all institutional and lobbying power in his hand to stop progressive legislation around the world, but mainly in Italy, where the Vatican is most welcome in governmental palaces.

His biggest scandals were by far the cover-up of various child abuses by priests, cardinals, bishops etc all over the world (most notably in Germany and the US). All this obviously accompanied by corruption, financial speculation, bribing of national officials around Europe etc. He was the staunch conservator of a rotting institution, and he did everything in his power to move it and everyone around it back to the middle ages.

[asknarashikari]

Emu: You're Houtaro-kun's teacher right?

Minato: Yes, and you're Dr. Emu Hojo, Kamen Rider Ex-Aid.

Emu: I've just got one thing to say to you.

Emu: You better not turn out to be a slimy sneaky snake or frog if you know what's good for you.

Keiwa: Emu-sensei, that's not necessary.

Emu: Keiwa-kun, you know its necessary.

Emu: Kekera was supposed to support you, but instead he went with trying to mold you into his ideal Kamen Rider, and I hope Minato-sensei doesn't do that.

Emu: And if you do end up turning into Kekera, well Hyper Muteki is here.

----

do you think Minato-sensei turn out to be a Kekera? or would he be a true blue heroic character?

I think it's too early to speculate on that.

On one hand, he does seem to keep trying to drive this whole "Chemmies disrupt the natural order" philosophy on Houtaro, despite the fact that pretty much everytime a Chemmy gets corrupted it's because of humans and/or the Dark Sisters.

But he's also bent the rules a lot for him, like how he let the kid keep Sabosuke's flower and how he didn't immediately erase Ryo and Hijiri's memories when he should have, not to mention the way he even let Houtaro become an alchemist to begin with.

I think the next arc will be quite telling as to what he really thinks about Houtaro. Would he defend Houtaro against the allegations toward him? Would he believe these people who for all intents and purposes are his superiors out of hand? Or would he stay neutral and allow Houtaro and his actions to speak for themselves?

(I'll be honest though, I won't be terribly surprised if the one accusing Houtaro of being a spy turned out to be the spy... you know what they say about accusations being confessions...)

[calicostorms]

for the codex entry prompts and fen'an <333 2, 4, 9 and 15! :D

!!!!!!! Moss u know he's my favorite tysm for sending these in <333

2: a letter written by your OC’s family member

Codex: An Unsent Letter

A partially torn letter written in Elvish in very small handwriting:

He is settling in well, but misses the clan often. The spirits are clinging to him less in spite of their restlessness recently. He's peaceful in a way I haven't seen in quite some time— maybe since that trip to the tree for Myriani to honor her after his first vallaslin. Her spirit is so small next to his guilt, now.

He's been making eyes at one of the new Avvar healers who joined. He has less ghosts than most people here, though that admittedly doesn't say a lot. Don't worry, Mirassan, I'm teasing him plenty in your stead about it. He misses you the most (sorry mama and mamae). We've gotten lost a few times without your Ghilan'nain-gifted sense of direction but it's been alright otherwise so far.

Fen'an is integrating better than me, surprisingly. I hope that [the rest of the words are scribbled out hastily, as if frustrated]

- From a half finished letter crumpled on a chair in the Skyhold gardens

4: a letter from your OC to their love interest

A Hidden Letter [Avaliable to be found in the infirmary after What Pride Has Wrought]

From a crisply written letter on blood splattered stationary:

Ma vhenan,

I am not good with words or letter-writing. I feel your absence keenly while I am fighting here. You wouldn't enjoy it- it is always raining. At least the darkspawn are nothing new. My companions are paranoid about turning into one and it is making them sloppy.

We have been using an old fisherman's cottage here to stay dry during the night but Sylaise has not gifted us with a campfire in several days. Everything is damp and I wish for nothing except to return to your side in the mountains again. If this letter arrives before I do, fear only for my companion's attitudes.

All is well except the rain.

I will return from the Storm Coast within a week. I will bring the requested herbs for Enchanter Orrick running your infirmary.

May Ghilan'nain guide your steps,

Fen'an

9: a future historian’s account of your OC’s actions

Codex: A Historian's Notebook

A worn, old notebook bound in leather with many illegible sections.

By many accounts, he was a small but influential member of the budding Lucerni, often providing muscle to back up anti-slavery causes.

Known for his stoicism and a surprising friendship with Dorian Pavus after a reportedly rocky start, he orchestrated numerous slave revolts alongside friends of all sorts. Though blunt, he is reported to have been quite kind and is credited with teaching countless ex-slaves basic swordsmanship, sewing, and weaving to grant them a means to make a living.

His partner, Asgeir Brynjarsen, proved to be a valuable ally to the anti-slavery cause often credited to have begun in earnest with the start of Dorian Pavus' time in the Magisterium. The two proved to be a source of hope for countless slaves, particularly with Maevaris Taelani and Dorian Pavus at their backs to finance their operations.

It has been reported that Fen'an Alahannon was an ex-slave himself, though it is unsubstantiated by records. Some speculate his name was changed after escaping slavery to rationalize this idea, regardless of a lack of records. All that is formally recorded is that he was a Dalish man from the Anderfels with a sister he came South with around the time of the Breach opening.

[Several pages after this are ripped out]

15: a letter to your OC from a companion they haven’t seen in a while

Codex: Sealed Fancy Letter

My dear Fen'an,

I pray that your stay in Tevinter alongside our mutual companion is as fruitful as you desire it to be. I confess, I often miss our talks of the latest fashions now that you have left the Inquisition, but it is a brave choice and worthy of accolades you will never receive. If you find yourself in need of aid for your cause, you need only to ask for my assistance. If there are young mages amongst those you rescue, they are welcome among the ranks in my Circle.

Returning there as a free man must be an incredibly different experience. Enjoy it as much as you can, and relay the experience as best you are able. Do not bear your burdens alone. I look forward to our correspondence and pray you are able to forgive my tardiness in recent letters.

I will plan to see you close to Wintersend as discussed previously. We simply must find you a better outfit for all those Tevinter parties, darling. Perhaps we will find our way to a salon in the process— I would not protest spending more time catching up on your pursuits to the North.

With affection,

Vivienne de Fer

[notasapleasure]

Death in Paradise S12E02 (2023)

Oh, you’ve all seen these screencaps, what can I add?

But for completion’s sake. And I’ve tried to screencap some scenes/expressions I haven’t seen in others’ posts!

Charrrrrlie Banks. Gun nut. Prepper. Vest. Shorts. Where were we?

Oh to be a recalcitrant wind turbine...

I’ll tell you what I can add to your perceptions of this episode: derpy screencaps as well as fit ones.

Anyway, Kit Martin’s body was found, poisoned by cyanide, in a bunker on the commune he lived on.

Charlie built the bunker Kit’s body was found in (locked room mystery). Nice placement of the poster behind him...

He’s in a lot of Kit’s videos. You know what else I give you the other screencappers don’t?

Subtitles.

Charlie Banks: “Ex-Army, worked across the world on humanitarian aid projects.” “He’s the only member of the commune to have hands-on experience in real-life disasters. Also - he’s in a lot of Kit’s vlogs. They seemed to be good friends. They share a real vision for the commune.”

Uh huh.

No one on the commune has a gun license, Kit and Charlie recently fell out....Charlie’s been bringing guns in. Big fuck-off assault rifles.

“Because when it’s every man for himself, I don’t intend on taking any chances.”

He. Literally did. ¯\_( •̀_•́ )_/¯

Darlene: “He’s quite an intense man, isn’t he?”

Another member of the commune is missing - grad student Luna, whose laptop was in Kit’s possession.

Apparently Luna ‘couldn’t hack it’.

*evil clown music plays*

Also, as @stripedroseandsketchpads​ points out, DS Thomas is probably The Most Beautiful Woman on the Planet, and she is judging you so hard, Charlie.

In the end, the suspects are narrowed down to these two:

The funny little Englishman they keep as a pet in the island police station has a theory! Gather the suspects in the bunker and...declaim!

We know it was you, Charlie...

And Charlie overheard Kit withdrawing his funding...

Sorry, it’s the hand/mouth interaction again I just kept pressing PrtSc and sobbing

Love a good flashback...

Are you wearing kohl, Charlie?! Probably if you look this good committing murder it should be allowed

He’s passing coffee to him in the bunker ok?

...the coffee himself.

Only Charlie left cyanide-y fingerprints on the doorjamb.

Busted.

And for the road, just in case you wanted to know how a Joplin fits in the back of a van:

---

Rating

Dead? Nope!

Evil? fear leads to anger, anger leads to hatred, etc etc. He’s just a big scared teddy bear. With a collection of shoddy assault rifles.

Affects the plot? Yes, you might say so.

It is SUCH a look. The gun nut aspect...ehh. Speculating about what good friends he and Kit were? Hmm! 3.5/5 the look is excellent, the shifty acting is superb - especially subtle as I guess people were meant to assume Robert Webb was the culprit - but he very much Did Do It and had a worse motive than many of his other characters.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

I read comments about how unhappy Evan looks and that he should find someone to be with or some say that he looks happier because they think he is seeing someone. My opinion is that happiness isn't always linked to being with another person. Evan has had multiple troubled relationships in the past. I think the best thing for him right know is to focus on himself and to rediscover himself and to be sure what he wants and what he deserves. Sometimes staying single for a while is the best thing that can happen to someone. Why would you only be happy when you are in a relationship? Relationships can be very draining and make a person miserable instead of happy. People should stop linking his happiness to dating. I was in a long time relationship myself and don't feel like dating for a while because I feel that I am rediscovering myself and figuring out what I really want and look for in life. So breakups can sometimes be a blessing in disguise. Personally, I hope that this is what he's doing right now: deciding to stay single and focus on his mental well-being and his career. The right person will come along when you least expect it. When he wants to confirm a relationship he will do it. So people should just stop with all these speculations about an alleged gf or saying that he looks better because he is in a relationship, because sometimes it can be the total opposite. In my eyes, relationships are sometimes overrated. Let the man take his time and stop forcing him to be in a relationship right now. George Clooney found the one at a later age in life so it has nothing to do with age, but it's all about timing. I also feel that Evan doesn't have a specific type. If he likes you he likes you. It's all about personality and having features that attracts him and not what other people think what he likes or what his type is. He's exes all look different, from looks to height to personality.

well put, and i agree - relationships are only band-aids if you aren't happy with and by yourself. after numerous bad relationships, taking time to reflect, be single and explore your own identity can be a very good thing and help prepare you for meeting the right person, if you really feel you must seek out a life partner :) thank you for sharing your thoughts