#i can't...understand this one...its just gibberish
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#i can't...understand this one...its just gibberish#no matter what i try with it...may need further council#ooc tags:#gqt#gqt translates#genuine questions anon#collision wraith#gqt answers#gqt posting#unreality
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CG: WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FROG BREEDING, I THOUGHT WE WERE ON A ROLL WITH THAT GG: yes, we still are! GG: this little detour was related to that task. we should be nearly done.
Echidna is located on the frog planet, so I guess it would make sense if she offered Choices that related to frog breeding. Maybe she needs to 'approve' the nascent universe, just like she did the Scratch.
CG: WHAT WAS SHE EVEN SAYING TO YOU, I CAN'T UNDERSTAND A WORD OF THAT HORRIFYING GIBBERISH. GG: i can understand her just fine!
It’s reasonable to assume that only the Denizen’s designated Player can understand their speech.
That would probably prevent any Player from completing a Quest that wasn’t assigned to them, which was one of my suggestions for ways to ‘break Sburb’, a million billion years ago.
CG: I STILL DON'T REALLY GET IT. CG: WHY MY DENIZEN WAS SUCH A NIGHTMARE WHILE YOURS APPARENTLY GIVES YOU GUTTURAL PEP TALKS IN SOME BYZANTINE MONSTER LANGUAGE. GG: we already talked about this GG: echidna and i have an understanding now ;) CG: OOH, VAGUE BULLSHIT, IT'S THE EXACT FUCKING THING I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF. GG: well maybe if you werent in such a grumpy hurry all the time you wouldnt have killed your denizen so quickly GG: you might have actually learned something!!!!!!
I'm willing to bet that Karkat shot first, aggroing his Denizen before it had even opened its mouth. Just like Eridan and his angels, the possibility that this NPC wasn't an enemy simply didn't enter Karkat's head.
...granted, the Consorts do to tell you that your Denizen needs to be slain, so the messaging is a little all over the place. Perhaps the game straight-up lies about how the Denizens work, in order to test the Players in some way.
After all, a species which shoots first and asks questions later might not have an ideal temperament to rule over a universe...
...so maybe Sgrub ensures that they can't.
GG: did you ever talk to kanaya about it? […] GG: her situation was very similar to mine
If the kids needed to activate their frog, then so did the trolls. It sounds like Kanaya, at least, had the wherewithal to listen to her Denizen before immediately popping a Fraymotif.
CG: I THOUGHT SHE KILLED HER DENIZEN TO LIGHT THE FORGE OR SOMETHING GG: it doesnt sound like you got the whole story
You seem to have overlooked the fact that Jade’s Forge is lit - and yet, Echidna was available for a second visit. Keep up, Karkat!
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Joel and Preggo Wife: Baby Talk with Sarah

- - - -
Joel's flexible schedule now owning his own company means he can spend way more time with Sarah. She's still so little, he can't stop taking pictures of her smiley face and fat body sat up in her high chair.
"How bout some lunch kiddo?"
She bounces up and down and slaps her fat wrists on the tabletop excitedly.
Joel scoops some spaghetti strands into her open mouth. He finds himself mimicking her little jaw chewing movements and parting his lips each new spoonful he puts in her mouth.
Sarah rubs her hand in circular motion under her chest.
"What you got sommthin on your chin?"
Joel wets a napkin with his tongue and dabs off the small specs of sauce from her cheeks and chin.
But she continues to rub her hand clockwise. "There's nothing there kid."
She does it again, pinching her fingers now and then rubbing a clockwise circle.
Joel drops the spoon and gets on his knee, patting her chest, cheeks, chin, any possible area that could have some invisible stain that's clearly bothering her.
"Where??" He asks curiously. He lightly grips her fat cheeks and tilts her head side to side, Inspecting closely for any food that might be lodged under all the rolls of fat in her neck.
She starts growling at him angrily, repeating the two motions.
"Don't you get attitudinal with me! There's nothing to wipe!"
You come inside to see Joel furiously wiping her face like there's a sharpie mark on a whiteboard.
Joel, why are you rubbing our baby's skin off."
"She keeps saying there's something here!" He aggressively smothers her whole face with the napkin, and her poor skin is starting to get a little braised from his constant rubbing.
They're both getting frustrated with one another, blown cheeks and scowling brows.
You look over to the half eaten bowl of spaghetti then back at Sarah. She desperately pinches her fingers together and then rubs circling motions again.
"WHERE!" Joel shouts, tossing the napkin down in frustration.
"No, oh my gosh," you laugh, taking the napkin off the floor. "She's signing for "more please"".
"She's--! She's what?"
You repeat the motion: your palm over your chest and draw it in a small clockwise circle "please" and then the pinching of your fingers to your thumbs pulling towards your center "more".
You give Sarah the spoon and plastic bowl and she takes it and feeds herself happily.
"She knows sign?" He asks, intrigued but alarmed. "Is she mute? Did we have a mute kid??"
"I mean she's still a baby so. Kind of now she's not capable of talking, honey. They teach sign at the day care--"
"We have a genius level intellect child!"
"No--it's just easier for kids to communicate through sign since they haven't developed speech--"
"Shh!" He holds his finger up to your lip dramatically as he fetches a pen and paper. "I'm writing down some math equations. I bet she can solve these..."
"Joel."
Sarah pushes her half eaten cold bowl away and starts shaking her head.
"Ooh what does that mean?"
"She's just shaking her head."
"Yeah and what's that mean in sign?"
"It just means no!"
-
A year later, she's piecing together words -- in her own way.
Joel has stopped trying to understand the babbling baby talk. "She doesn't really know anything yet. I thought she was gonna be smart."
"She IS smart. She's been talking this whole time!"
He shakes his head. "Its gibberish. The whole time she was saying nonsense."
You scold him but lean down to Sarah. "What did you and Daddy do today?"
She excitedly look up to you and says: "RaRa y Dada byebyes Spooooo go foe wok n haf babas. See peep peep peeps! y Dada gif RaRa weedadas!!"
Joel chuckles as you nod and listen to each word she says. "There's no way you understood that--"
"Oh? Daddy took Sarah and Spoon in the car for a walk and got some water? And you saw chickens?? And daddy got you balloons???"
Sarah nods furiously, stomping her feet now that SOMEONE finally gets it.
His mouth is hanging open, visually buffering in his brain at how any of those words equated to the sentence you just strung together.
"Where MeeMee?" She asks curiously.
"You right here!" Joel exclaims (he's got the hang of this now).
"No. No RaRa, MeeMee!" She says, emphasizing the last phrase like its something obvious.
"Joel, MeeMee is Tommy," you clarify.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THIS."
"OK listen: RaRa is Sarah."
"But it's not."
"But it is because that's what she's decided. Peep: chicken. Spoooooo: Spoon. Babas: water."
"What is babas."
"Its water. You drink from a bubba mug so baba is water. Weedada: balloon."
"How does that make sense."
"I don't know. Took me a bit to figure out. No idea where she got that from. Byebyes: car. Wok: walk. And MeeMee is Tommy."
Joel stares at you with questionable concern, as you fix the little clips in her hair.
"Babe, I think you're spending too much time together."
You both look up at him together with puffy lips and go "nah uhhhh."
- - - -
Taglist
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop
#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel and sarah#the last of us fluff#tlou fluff#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fic#last of us fic#joel dealing with preggo wife
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tw: self-shipping; self-indulgent; cnc; dark/possessive!Simon (I guess); unprotected sex
The air is thick and stuffy in the small bedroom, though it's more a storage room than anything, really. There's just a worn-out cot with a thin mattress and a pillow, and a bedside table, right below the small, dirty, and curtainless window.
And I'm both grateful and pissed that my teammates urged me to take the only room with a functional bed in the whole, shabby safe house while they're forced to be content with the dirty floor in the living room again. Pissed that they keep prioritising my comfort over theirs, simply because I'm the only woman on the squad.
And grateful, because now I can at least pretend they can't hear me getting pounded into oblivion by our Lieutenant.
"Gotta keep it down, hm? Sweet girl, shhh " His voice isn't soft, isn't reassuring. I know he's smiling smugly underneath his mask, holding all the power in this moment, still fully clothed and in full gear while the only patch of exposed skin is currently balls deep inside my quivering cunt, no barrier between us.
Ghost had me undressed within a minute after slipping into the small bedroom with me; the withered door had barely creaked before it was closed again, and then, his dooming shadow was looming over me.
"Jus' a quick one, sweet'eart," he'd purred against my temple, voice muffled by his skull balaclava while he pulled my tac shirt off. "Need to feel ya. Jus' the tip, promise."
A blatant lie, that one.
As much as Ghost tried and succeeded in sneaking away from our teammates and slipping into my small safe haven of privacy, it does feel like he is currently making sure that everyone understands what is going on in here.
He lets out the most whorish, guttural groan when his thick cock sinks into my sopping cunt and bottoms out after letting me adjust while I'm presented all prettily for him on all fours.
I feel feverish, flushed. I'm sweating, hair sticking to the nape of my neck while I'm dripping with sticky arousal between my thighs.
The cot squeaks and creaks dangerously underneath our weight with each powerful thrust of his hips. My body jolts, my inner walls ripple around his fat cock while his balls slap against my wet flash, and I'm forced down on my elbows, barely able to muffle my cry of pleasure as I bury my face into the old pillow below me, eyes squeezing shut with ragged breaths.
He huffs a low chuckle behind me while one of his gloved hands releases its grip on my waist to trace the bowed arch of my back with his knuckles instead, all while he keeps rocking his hips in a slow yet harsh pace that leaves the fat of my plump ass jiggling with each thrust, thick cockhead nudging too deeply against my cervix.
"Fuckin' hell," Ghost curses sharply, chest rumbling with a low groan as he grips the nape of my neck and pushes my face further down into the pillow. "Wha' did I say, huh?" He grabs one of my ass cheeks and squeezes hard. "Keep those sweet fuckin' noises down. They're only f'me."
I whimper into the pillow when he smacks my ass cheek; cold leather leaving my skin stinging while my body quakes with mounting pleasure. I'm barely able to breathe and my face gets hotter while I'm trying to get enough air in, though I'm struggling like I'm doing breaststroke in a pool.
"Touch yerself f'me. Wanna feel ya squeeze my fuckin' cock, bunny." His hand around my nape tightens and my blood starts rushing in my ears; it gets even harder to breath.
I slip a hand between my thighs and squeeze my sticky flesh with a high-pitched whimper before rubbing my swollen clit while he keeps up his languid pace.
It's too hot, too much, and I'm getting lightheaded while the pleasure intensifies and tightens inside my lower belly; licking up my spine tauntingly and making my toes curl as my wanton moans and dumb gibberish are muffled by the pillow. Thank God.
Ghost doesn't need to hear me moan his name; doesn't need to hear me begging him to let me come.
"Fuck, tha's right," he grunts, his pace picking up as his mammoth hands find purchase on my plush hips again; strong fingers digging into the fat. "Gonna cum 'nd'm not gonna pull out."
I cry out and bite into the tattered pillow, drool soaking into the flimsy fabric as my climax sneaks up on me, mind numbing and intense, and I push back into his thrusts while my pussy clenches and flutters, triggering his own release.
Ghost is nearly silent when he comes, but his breath stutters and catches in his buff chest and his fingers dig painfully before his warm, thick cum paints my velvety walls full enough to dribble out and onto the sheets while he keeps grinding his hips, milking both our orgasms for all they're worth.
His large hands start roaming, caressing, groping whatever they can reach as I collapse onto the squeaky mattress, breathing heavily while my heart rate and body temperature normalise again.
He gives my ass a few gentle pats before he pulls out, making me whine at the sudden loss of his softening prick. "Good girl," he praises gruffly as he tucks himself back into his cargo pants. "My sweet girl."
A dopey grin tugs on my lips, one that I'm keen to hide from him as I slump onto the mattress and nuzzle my face back into the pillow.
His hands keep roaming, fingertips trailing along my flushed skin. "Not gonna ask me to stay, eh?" Ghost taunts quietly, though there is no bite to his words, more longing than nothing, actually. We both know he can't stay.
A sudden sharp knock at the door cuts through the tranquility.
#call of duty#self shipping#romantic f/o#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#cod#tf 141#personal#it's almost 5 am so I should probably really go to bed now mwah#maladaptive daydreaming
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Chapter 15 of Bill's a human prisoner and everybody's grumpy about it, featuring: NIGHTMARES NIGHTMARES NIGHTMARES NIGHTM
Remember these? We're getting 'em both in one chapter. Plus: FORD! Also: a little bit of human gore, a lot of bizarre alien gore.
This is a shorter chapter, but it's the first one with a direct glimpse into Bill's backstory and home dimension. I hope you enjoy! And are deeply horrified! EDIT 5/23/2025: now TBOB compatible and just as horrifying!
####
"You have to stop spouting this nonsense." A triangle paced around him, her makeup-waxed sides flexing back and forth like a swimming fish—a scalene shark in red war paint circling its prey. Her furious eye never left his. "Nobody comes to our sermons for deranged ranting about points of light in darkness. They don't want to hear about things that are above-but-not-north of us! What does that mean, above-but-not-north?"
"It means what it says, Mom." Above him—above, but not north, in an endless void outside the plane of the world—countless stares twinkled in an unending dark. "That's where the third dimension is. And that's what it looks like! I don't know how else to explain it to someone who hasn't seen it!"
He flinched each time she curved toward him and her eye pointed directly at him—it was like having an arrowhead pointed at his face. "Then why explain it at all? Nobody wants to hear it! It's a surprise we aren't already losing congregants. I know you can tell you're losing their interest."
He could tell. Sullenly, he said, "Maybe we need smarter congregants. If they weren't too stupid to understand—"
"People are stupid, sweetie. That's why they follow you. You don't want the smart ones anyway, or they'd be smart enough to see through all the lies you make up about the third dimension—"
"I'm not making it up!"
"Every week you talk about impossible places that can't exist! Either you're lying or insane—which is it?"
How could he answer that? He looked up into space, as if the distant stars only he saw could help him.
"Oh, don't do that—making your eye go strange might look 'mystical' to your worshipers, but mommy knows it means you're trying to avoid the conversation, young triangle." She paced around him faster, her sides curving more dramatically as though she planned to form a circle around him. It looked painful, how deeply she bent her sides—her organs stretching and contorting to fit the shape, he swore even her bones bending along. But she'd always had the most flexible body he'd ever seen—even more flexible than his. "I don't care whether you're a liar or a lunatic—you're still my golden child, and everyone else will see that too as long as you tell them what we say. Nobody wants to hear that the third dimension is a dark, empty void! Tell them it's full of color and life! Tell them it's filled with the spirits of departed shapes, or messengers, divine guides, muses—"
"But it isn't! I don't care what they want it to be, it's not true! I'm trying to make them understand!" He had to make them understand, he needed somebody to understand. He thought he'd go insane if he was the only one who could see how empty and awful space was.
"I've listened to your gibberish about points of light and up-not-north for years and I don't understand it, so how can anyone else—"
"You're not trying to understand!" Space and all its vast emptiness was oh, so close, so achingly close. Pressing against everyone's bodies, breathing over their organs, lighting up those tight-coiled fibers beneath everyone's skin, shining on the silvery bloody bones and thin muscles. "You've never tried! Either you're not listening or you're stupid!" How couldn't anyone else see space?
"How dare you—!" Her joints snapped straight—a sound like a whipcrack—as her flexed body abruptly went rigid and razor sharp.
How could they be close enough to touch it and still deny what it was?
Why was he the only freak who could bend up into it?
She seized his hand and jerked him around to face her, dragging his gaze down from the stars to her eye—pointing at him like an accusation. "I'll teach you to talk back to me like that!"
His mind was feverish with anger, pulsing and roiling behind his eye—and for a moment, he wasn't afraid of anything.
She could bend and flex like no one else he'd ever met; she was the most flexible shape he'd ever seen. The doctors thought he might have inherited his ability to bend his vision up-not-north from one of his parents; maybe from his father with his poor eyesight; maybe from his mother, with her genetic predisposition for too much flexibility.
Even before the physical therapy he'd gotten to improve his muscle tone and even out his angles, at his most flexible he'd never matched her. While he'd spent years in and out of doctors' offices stiffening up his sides for the sake of his physical health, she'd spent years training to increase her flexibility at the expense of hers.
If he could bend UP, so could she. He'd make her see. He'd force her to see.
He jammed his corner into her side. She shrieked, letting go of him and curling protectively around her wound. "Watch your— What are you—"
"You'll see," he said, shoving her against the wall, shoving her into a corner, side-first rather than angle-first, forcing her to bend to him. "You'll see if it's the last thing you do!" It was like cramming a jack-in-the-box back in its prison; each time he shoved, she bent and curved and bent again.
"Stop—stop, it HURTS—"
He could see it in his mind's eye: if he kept pushing and pushing eventually there'd be no more room in two dimensional space for her to fill, and then she'd be forced to bend UP, up into the third dimension, all that open free space. Then she'd see the dark, she'd see the far points of light—
"STOP!" She howled in pain. He kept pushing. She was out of room.
She didn't bend up.
He shoved—and she splintered. Bone snapping, cartilage tearing, he could see inside her delicate body as things broke and ruptured.
He didn't know what to do.
And for several long, long seconds—he couldn't remember what was happening. The world seemed to bend wrong, rippling up-but-not-north and down-but-not-south, and his head swam and his vision blurred, and he couldn't remember.
Her skin fractured and peeled off, strand after strand. He’d seen grotesque injuries and rotting bodies before—he’d been in hospitals and seen through the bandages, been in graveyards and seen into the coffins, unable not to see though the doors and walls and tombs. He’d seen the way the skin came off, the way it split into hairy filaments as it loosened from the body, bristly around injuries or sloughed off whole from the long dead. But he'd never seen dead skin curl like his mother's, loosely zig-zagging back and forth and wrapping into spirals like the centers of flowers. It filled the spaces between his fingertips, wrapped up his arms.
Everyone saw his mother as red. She made sure of that—coating her sides in rouge makeup, bright red lipstick around her eye, disguising her natural duller pinkish-brown. But he could see the stars above as easily as he could see the flesh below her makeup. Sometimes he hardly noticed the red makeup; what he always saw was rose gold.
And rose gold was what he saw now, twisting shining wires of rose-golden skin slithering over his hands, just slightly more coppery than his own. He could shut his eye but he still saw her skin through his eyelid, still felt it tickling at the corners of his mouth.
Irrationally, wildly, hysterically, watching his mother die, he wondered—when he died, when he was a corpse, when he rotted—when his body split open in half from his burst eye, as the labyrinth of his guts bloated and unwound and inverted themselves to spill in sick silver threads from his mouth, and his skin peeled free, layer by hairy layer, from his eyelid out—would his rotting golden skin curl like his mother's had?
He knew it would. He knew it would. He knew it would.
####
He woke to moonlight streaming through curls upon curls of golden skin dangling in his eye, choking him on rot.
He squeezed his eyes shut, batted the hair aside, and forced himself to breathe until the nausea subsided.
He hated how humans dreamt.
He decided he didn't want any more sleep tonight.
He dragged himself upright, shambled downstairs, and tried to ignore the coils of his internal organs spilling out of his head and dangling around his face.
He needed a drink.
####
Ford woke up standing over a bed and a body.
He couldn't identify the shape or size of the body under the sheets, due to how badly it was contorted and the way the dark pools of blood in the bedsheets distorted the shadows. All he could see was the head: a flash of a pale cheek turned away, and the unmistakeable Pines hair curls. The hair was matted with blood.
Ford's hands were coated in hot blood and cold blue flames. There was a nauseating metallic taste in his mouth and something thick and warm dripping down his chin.
He heard a quiet chuckle. He whipped around to face it—
And saw himself reflected in a triangular window, a gray shade. He was smiling so widely he could see moonlight glinting off his molars. His slitted eyes glowed a sickly yellow.
Ford woke up standing over a bed and a body.
He could see Stan lying on his back, one hand on his chest, the other dangling lifelessly off the mattress, mouth gaped open. Ford stared at him, breath held, waiting for—he didn't know what—something awful.
Stan let out a loud snore.
Ford's shoulders sagged as he quietly sighed in relief. He looked at his hands; clean. He licked his lips; reassuringly dry. Tasteless. He was awake. Everything was fine.
Ford could lay back down and go back to sleep. He'd gotten used to dreams like this decades ago; these days he hardly even had them. Even the sleepwalking incidents were less frightening now that he was sure, for the first time in thirty years, that it really was just sleepwalking, and not a triangle taking his body for a joyride.
But he was already awake and irritated. He might as well pick up where he'd left his research at dinner time—do something that felt productive. He got up, fished a crumpled paper that said "Downstairs" out of his bedside stand and set it next to Stan's glasses, and crept out of the guest room to head for the vending machine.
Bill was in the kitchen.
Ford stopped in the next room, staring through the doorway. Bill was sitting in the dark, only his silhouette visible in the light through the window. He was hunched over the kitchen table, supported on his elbows, unmoving. Ford couldn't see Bill's reflection in the window. Not even his eyes.
Ford wondered what he dreamed about. Perhaps the thrill of possessing people.
He was half tempted to confront Bill—demand to know what he was up to—but, Ford told himself, there was nothing to confront Bill for. They'd given him permission to use the kitchen freely. Bill wasn't up to anything. It was well within his rights to sit silently at the table in the dark.
Ford just didn't like it.
He crept into the living room. Bill never noticed him.
####
Dipper divided the nightmares he'd been having since last summer into two categories: the Bill nightmares; and the Bipper nightmares—which were, in a way, also Bill nightmares.
The Bill nightmares were just his regular nightmares, except that Bill was also in them. For Dipper, regular nightmares were a mishmash of fears, insecurities, chaos, and random weirdness. It was natural that Bill, the most terrifying entity Dipper had ever met, occasionally guest starred in his dreams.
The problem was, since Bill actually could invade dreams and always brought chaos and random weirdness in his wake, it was that much harder for Dipper to tell if he was dreaming rather than actually facing Bill—and, once he woke up, harder for him to reassure himself it really was only a dream.
(Mabel told him she had similar problems, and it wasn't even limited to nightmares. Sometimes, no matter how sweet or unthreatening her dream was—and sometimes because it was so sweet—their erratic scene-changing logic-breaking wish-making nature gave her the creeping sense that she was trapped back in Mabeland. Not often, she said. But occasionally, when Dipper couldn't sleep either, he could hear her wake herself sleepily repeating "—I wanna go back to reality—I want to go back—go back to the real world," and then meow herself back to sleep.)
On the other hand, the Bipper nightmares were like no dreams he'd ever had before.
They might start out as normal nightmares—dreaming of a near death experience, or a monster charging at him, or some humiliation too deep to endure further sleeping through—until he jolted awake. Or he'd think he'd jolted awake—in truth, he'd just woken up into another dream, so realistic he thought he was awake until he realized he was hovering over his bed, and the world looked hazy and false, and his body was still beneath the covers. Just like when Bill had ripped him free of his body.
The first time he'd had the Bipper nightmare, Dipper thought Bill had taken over him again, and that at any moment his body would open its eyes and laugh at him. When that didn't happen, he thought he'd died. He'd flown to Mabel's room, to his parents', to Waddles, to the neighbors' houses, trying desperately to get someone's attention—and when nothing worked, he returned to his still body in despair and waited there, sure that in a few hours his parents would come to get him for school and find him dead...
But then he'd woken up. For real, this time. And then he woke the rest of the house with his screaming.
He learned to cope with these nightmares, both the Bill ones and the Bipper ones. He talked about them with Mabel during the day or went to her for reassurance at night. Sometimes he called Ford, if he and Stan were in a time zone where they'd still be awake. (Ford said sometimes he woke up sure Bill had been using his body. He said he'd had nightmares for years about Bill invading his dreams—and almost none of them had been real. He said that his visits from Bill were usually less chaotic than a normal dream. Bill liked his weirdness but he liked being the center of attention more; he liked to stage his dreams like a movie director, keeping a firm grip on the setting and the narrative flow, snapping from location to location and moment to moment with an artistry that natural dreams didn't have. The muddled mundanity of your average nightmare was beneath Bill.)
And Dipper learned to wait out his Bipper nightmares. Sometimes he wandered the hallways, but he found that engaging with the dream tended to prolong it; instead, if he stayed by his body and didn't do anything, eventually he'd drift back into deep sleep and wake back up. He started keeping a radio on at night—he could hear it in his sleep—and listening to the weird 3 a.m. broadcasts kept him entertained enough until he woke.
####
But since returning to Gravity Falls, Dipper had found a new way to deal with his nightmares:
Yelling at Bill about them.
Tonight, he was having his guilt-dream about his dad asking why he'd given up kickboxing; until the dream was interrupted by Bill emerging from the refrigerator to announce that Weirdmageddon was opening a second location in Piedmont and then throw a rabid skunk at Dipper's face. Dipper had woken up too angry to think straight, stomped to Bill's empty window seat, and then stomped downstairs.
He found Bill sitting in the kitchen in the dark, washing down a bag of cookies with a pack of hard cider and staring out at the night. Dipper stopped in the doorway. "You!"
Bill turned to give Dipper a bleary-eyed look. "Me?"
"Stop messing with my dreams and stay out of my head!"
"Beg pardon?" Bill's eyelids were desynchronized as he slowly blinked. "I'm just..." He gestured vaguely around the kitchen with a mostly-empty cider can. "I am just—sitting here."
"You've been in my nightmares all year," Dipper said hotly, even as he was waking up enough to realize that Bill, down here in the kitchen, probably wasn't influencing his dreams. "So just—just..." This was stupid. "Cut it out, man."
"You've been dreaming about me? How sweet." Bill gave Dipper a mocking grin, propped his chin in his hand, propped his elbow on the table, actually missed putting his elbow on the table by at least six inches, and fell to the ground with a yelp.
Dipper stared tiredly at Bill cackling on the floor, and turned around and trudged upstairs.
Dipper found that, whenever he had nightmares about golden geometric apocalypses, it was reassuring to get an instant reminder that Bill had been nowhere near his head.
Even if he thought Bill was laying on the "helpless human" act a little thick.
####
(I'm still recovering from Health Junk, so if you've got any comments, I'd deeply appreciate them now even more than I usually do. Thank you, y'all readers and commenters and friends are really keeping me going during this time of feeling like a pile of half-sentient gunk. 🙏✨)
(5/23/2025 edit: This is the first chapter that needed heavy revisions thanks to TBOB & TINAWDC, because I originally wrote Bill's mom as a golden line instead of a red triangle.
But everything else about his backstory—his rare medical condition that lets him see the stars in the third dimension, the doctor trips to try to explain his condition, his mother who professes to love him and care about his best interests but tries to stifle his efforts to share the truth, his destructive desperation for people to understand and believe him—I came up with that headcanon in April 2023, and wrote the original scene in August 2023, a year before TBOB, and I will never let anybody forget it.
That entire scene is essentially unchanged from what I wrote in 2023 aside from changing the shape & color of Bill's mom and a few tiny details: changing her referring to him doing a thing with his eye she doesn't like to doing a strange thing with his eye, and changing her referring to herself from "your mother" to "mommy," both to refer to her lullaby on TINAWDC; and making mention to Bill formerly having uneven angles, to allude to how he looked like a right triangle as a baby instead of equilateral. I also added more details about Bill's medical history than this chapter used to have.
Also, thanks to TBOB, I changed "Ford wakes up lying in bed from a nightmare about standing over a family member" to "Ford wakes up standing over a family member from a nightmare about standing over a family member." One of the items in Dipper's search history is "how to stop uncle sleepwalking with eyes open it is so scary" but it doesn't say WHICH uncle, so I've decided that's a long term side effect of Ford letting Bill possess him in his sleep.)
#gravity falls#bill cipher#human bill cipher#dipper pines#gravity falls fic#my writing#my art#bill goldilocks cipher
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SFTH Chaotic Highlights (The Meringue Haberdashery)
Part 2 of the longforms, here we go:
So first things first, when I heard this title I had to google the definition of haberdashery because both myself and my mom thought it was one of those words that basically meant nonsense. Apparently it doesn't even mean that in America so idk where we got that idea
"I teach you nothing, I only show you the way" Someone needs to tell Don Juan the definition of 'teach'
"I sewed the funeral suit, she looked better than when she was alive" Not the best time to be prideful of your work but go off I guess
"It was a difficult time, and I found myself, uhhhhhhhh-" Absolutely no one knew what was going on at any point in this entire play and I'll never get tired of the chaos that vibe created
God, there's so much to say about the fucked up flashback sequence- The confusion over whether the dead girl was Don's wife or child, AJ assuming Sam was playing Don's child self as opposed to the kid who died, Don Juan being continuously 'in the flow' while no one seemed to know wtf he was on about, the girl's name changing to Nikita, AJ stage slapping the shit out of Sam, and ofc the fucked up death of a needle going through the child's eye shown via Sam's brilliant stagecraft
Also I think "You can sew a waistcoat perfectly, but you cannot sew a narrative together" deserves its own bulletpoint, I love that line so much
"I've had a difficult life, Don Juan, and if you want to live it... Then go for it" Words of wisdom from Don Juan #1 there
Even in a brief moment, we really get to see the gears turning in Sam's head when hearing the word 'sopa', searching the 'Spanish vocabulary' section of his mind before confirming Luke is in fact talking about soup
"You ever wonder why you and him have the same name?" Luke bringing up the elephant in the room that will soon become a surprising plot point
"He has no ambition!" "He's had a rough year!" He's like damn, give my name twin a break, his daughter died in a really traumatic way, of course he's not alright
"For many years his daughter was alive and healthy! Yet the shop stayed the same size! W H Y ?" Luke's delivery on 'Why' is perfectly over-the-top, as always
The back and forth of the soup bit "Give me a spoon" "I gave you a spoon" "Oh. Well this spoon is shit, get me a better one-"
*insert Adam Driver 'good soup' meme*
This is just a question, but could anyone tell me what Luke says after Sam says "He could maybe find some closure, some religion, something else-" because I can't for the life of me understand, and the autogenerated captions completely gave up on it
"I am a very sexy man" - Tom, in every goddamn improvised play (unless of course, he's a very sexy woman instead)
Luke deciding to become a ghost/hallucination of Don Juan #1's dead daughter- I know she ends up being a ghost, but the first scene really has vibes of 'oh this man has PTSD' so idk what the original intentions were
Idk if it was Nikita's voice or the fact a customer had just stolen the store's bell for some reason, but Don Juan has lost his ability to form words! That shit wasn't even stuttering anymore, it was full-on, natural-sounding gibberish, like he was playing the translator game with a language that doesn't actually exist
"Don Juan.." "Yes, Don Juan?" Ah yes, the culmination of the joke I've been waiting for
Sam suggesting AJ already tried giving himself a lobotomy after AJ speaks fluent alien-speak again is top-tier comedy
Unexpected Don Juan lore drop: Not only was he born and abandoned inside the haberdashery, he also constructed the entire building himself, as an infant. The more you know!
"Just like the namesake of this haberdashery, you are cracking! Like a meringue that's been left out too long... I can't watch your mind fracture like a meringue under a hammer" Guys I think Don Juan #2 might be trying to remind us of the play's title and that it's totally relevant to the plot
Hey so has the fandom decided on what the dead daughter's name is? Or is it like a Billy/Timothy/Benjamin type thing? Because I need answers
"Has your dead daughter been saying things to me fro beyond the grave? No! ... My wife on the other hand-" I don't have anything to add here, I just like that bit
Sam caught that needle in his hand like he caught the cocktail in The Hare Who Wore A Sweater
"You know anti-psychotics could cause mental cracking in healthy minds, so we're just wondering, what's going on here?" The tone of this whole conversation is as if the doctor is trying not to cause drama, as they actively (and accurately) accuse the 'sick' wife of drugging the town. I can't tell if that's just the characters general vibe or if they're worried about their own safety if they piss this lady off
Luke: "What are you doing?" Sam: *silently trying to figure out who the hell this character's supposed to be* "Nikita-?" Luke: *closing one eye to make it more obvious* "What are you doing??"
Sam goes through the same confused thought process after the 'What are you doing to yourself?' line
"Who is making you do this?" "He is" "Who is making you do this?" "He is making me do this-" "WHO is making you DO THIS? Come on!" "I- I'm making me do this-" ".. It's your wife, your fucking wife" Nikita/Luke is so tired of Don Juan/Sam's shit
"Do you ever wonder why you and my father have the same name?" Luke started this plot line, and now he's the one to end it
Luke being the translator for the audience is so funny. He said 'es verdad' and was like 'fuck you aren't gonna know what that means, here I'll spell it out for you'
"I was never sick.. I just don't like working!" Understandable villain motivation
"He said I was a bad influence and he kept me away" I mean you did drug the whole town, I can imagine you weren't the best influence back then either
Also wow, they made the daughter's death even more fucked up than before-
Tom being summoned to stand and represent 1000 Don Juans, as his singular self
"We really have to finish the show" "So it finishes with the villain winning!" A villain played by Luke winning is the only kind of unhappy ending I want to see, really it couldn't have gone better
Final thoughts: Everyone that thinks The Lighthouse is the most chaotic SFTH play needs to rewatch The Meringue Haberdashery right now
#sfth chaotic highlights#sfth#shoot from the hip#sfth luke#sfth tom#sfth sam#sfth aj#the meringue haberdashery
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Shhhh
After you were approached by a reg, Tech feels the need to demonstrate his superiority.
! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !
Tech x Reader
Tags: nsfw, established relationship, afab reader, no pronouns used/gender neutral reader, jealous tech
CW: porn without plot, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public sex, breathplay if you squint
Words: 932
Read on ao3
This wasn‘t a position you could say you found yourself in often, spread open on a crate in a supply closet somewhere on a Jedi cruiser with Techs head busy between your legs, your clothes scattered on the floor.
You found yourself here after a reg got a little too close to you for Techs liking. He didn’t blame you, of course, but he needed to reassure himself that while other people may be able to make you smile as well, he was the only one who could make you produce the sound you made right now.
And the place where he did this, in the said supply closet, was chosen with strategy as well. Of course, for a more private setting he could‘ve taken you on the Marauder, seeing as it was deserted from its usual inhabitants right now, as they were all somewhere around the Jedi cruiser they landed on to stock up supplies.
He chose this closet in particular exactly for its lack of privacy. Not only was he fully aware that every person that walked by was able to hear what was going on inside this closet, he also made sure that that reg who tried to woo you was able to see you getting dragged in here by him. He used your inability to keep quiet during sex to his full advantage.
“Mhmm fuck.“ you threw your hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up, unsuccessfully so. Tech was getting sloppy, seeing as you were starting to tense up and shake more and more every second he spent buried with his face between your legs. He detached for just a second to tell you to „Relax.“ while his hands left your thighs. One hand began to push your pelvis back onto the crate while the other started rubbing your clit.
You moaned in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. This made Tech speak up again: “If you want to climax, you will have to quiet down, or else we will be caught before you manage to cum.” he threatened. “I’m trying.” you managed to push out, but not without another moan following right after.
His face retreated from your pussy. His hand moved from your hip to up to your face, covering your mouth to stop your moans; his other hand still playing with your clit, making your back arch once again, your cries now muffled against his hand. He didn’t particularly do this because he wanted to shut you up and you knew that. It gave him a sense of power and control; and the ability to play with you even more. You felt yourself getting close, though you needed more contact to reach your high fully.
“More” you tried to communicate, but your request was barely audible seeing as your lips were still fully covered by Tech's large hands. “You will have to speak up, I am unable to fulfill your request if I can't understand what you are saying.” he responded. From the tone of his voice you could tell that he very clearly understood what you asked for.
You groaned in frustration, repeating yourself: “More!” you tried a little louder this time. It still sounded like gibberish, but Tech granted you mercy, knowing that if you asked again, any louder, people walking by would definitely be able to hear your begging.
That’s when he removed the hand working your clit from you, at least momentarily. “You will have to stay as quiet as possible, or you won’t be able to finish.” he stated, before diving his head between your legs once again, forcing him to retreat his hand from your lips in the process.
His right hand landed back on your clit, rubbing circles while he pushed his tongue into you, lapping up every drop of arousal he possibly could, while his left hand tried to push your thighs further apart, as they seemed to try to crush his head.
You bit your lip, trying to hold in your lewd noises as you climbed closer and closer to your peak. Tech removed his right hand from your clit, wrapping both arms around your thighs now, his head moving slightly, pressing his face fully into you with his nose now stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves while he kept eating you out like you were the first meal served to him after weeks of starvation.
With his hands now focused on pulling you closer, instead of pushing your legs apart, your thighs pressed against the sides of his head, catching his goggles between them, slightly shifting them off his eyes. Though he barely cared about his ability to see at this moment, this movement still caught his attention and made him look you straight in the eyes, mouth and nose still hard at work.
This sealed your fate. You came hard, back once again arching off the crate, head and eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You couldn’t stop your moans and cries, even if you wanted to. He helped you ride out your high by staying pressed against your pussy, eyes still locked on you, studying your physical reaction to his stimulation.
After calming down, you lifted yourself up on your elbows, severely out of breath, looking up at Tech who was now standing between your legs, offering your clothes to you that he picked off the floor while you recovered.
“You may not have managed to stay as quiet as I ordered you to, but at least the regs walking by may now have learned not to try their luck with you.”
#tbb#tbb tech#tech smut#tech x reader#the bad batch#sw tbb#tbb smut#star wars the bad batch#the bad batch fanfiction#fanfic
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Fuck Around, Find Out
Ghost King Danny tutors Impulse, Bart Allen, in Summoning magic after a horrible drunken Summoning disaster.
Part 1
Monday came much too soon. Danny had spent his weekend preparing his first lesson for Bart, considering he was so deep in his non-belief of magic that he nearly started a war, Danny decided they would have to start with the basics as taught to newly formed entities in the Realms.
Danny removed his pc and monitors from his desk, snapping on a white board attachment and putting several notebooks, pens, pencils, and markers in the drawers. He held his folder of lesson plans and his own notebook. At exactly four o'clock he put one hand on the desk and appeared right in front of his Contractor.
There was a crash sound behind him, and a wide eyed red-head on the couch, a game controller in his hand.
"We agreed on four to six for your lessons." Danny reminded him. "We have a lot to cover and I do not want to spend my entire existence teaching you."
Thee human grimaced but nodded. "What are we doing today?"
"You'll be learning to read and write," Danny said. "Magic is its own language, if you don't know it you can't effectively use it."
Bart spent two hours copying the Infinite Realms Dictionary of Magic into his first notebook while Danny read it aloud.
"There are six hundred and seventy languages used in this dimensions magical script," Danny explained. "As a living being born of this realm you only need to be fluent in those six hundred seventy languages, which is a lot less than what I had to learn as a being of the Infinite Realms-"
Bart paused in writing, glancing at the book he was copying from. '670 Alphabets, Beginning to End'
"I'll leave you with the Dictionaries to study in your own time. On Wednesday we'll go over grammar, and Friday we'll practice speaking. You'll have the weekend to practice as you wish and next week will be your first set of tests,"
"Tests next week?" Bart asked. "After only three days of lessons?"
"This is easy stuff," Danny said. "You're magical friends learn this as young children before they even choose a specialty."
Bart had a week to learn six hundred languages. He couldn't believe Raven or Zatanna knew all these languages, and only a week to learn them all was insane.
"Keep working," Danny said. "We don't have time for you to change your mind now. You signed a contract, I can't even explain what that entails until you understand magic script. The gibberish you scrawled on the floor in your drunken Summoning could've been the end of your deminsion and every deminsion that surrounds yours."
Bart kept writing.
Two hours for Bart tended to feel like an eternity but Phantom taught at the same speed Bart lived his life normally. There was no slacking off for milliseconds waiting for outside time to catch up. Phantom kept up, as soon as Bart finished a notebook another was handed to him. Phantom recited the dictionary and passages on culture, history, and traditions with ease, asking questions and having Bart read the passages as he copied them down.
"You have until I return on Wednesday to learn all six hundred and seventy languages here." Phantom said, pulling several stacks of books out of the desk. "Feel free to ask those magical friends of yours about magic script of you don't believe me, though your inability to believe them was what lead to this in the first place,"
Phantom left just like he has appeared, with a flash of light and an ice cold breeze.
Bart groaned, eyeing the stacks of books with regret. This was going to be a lot of reading.
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I think the Viltrum comparison was part of it, but the creators said in interviews that they were leaning into Clark’s disillusionment with Krypton as an allegory for learning about all the war-crimes the US has committed and being understandably horrified. Which isn’t even a bad idea by itself, but probably would’ve worked a lot better if MAWS’ Clark had actually had any kind of tangible emotional investment in Krypton.
If that's indeed what they were going for, I think they failed completely. To the best of my recollection, MAWS is unique in that Krypton is basically nothing but a source of anxiety and uncertainty for Clark all the way through- at its most benign Krypton is an inscrutable cypher and at it's worst it's an actively belligerent presence that's trying to kill him and his friends. No one is feeding him a positive narrative about the place except as a form of damage control after he's already pretty thoroughly convinced that where-ever he came from must have been bad news. He spends some time grappling with the anxiety that he might be a sleeper agent or an advance scout, and given what later proves to be going on with Kara that turns out to be a pretty reasonable thing to have been worried about! His inability to understand what the Jor-el hologram was telling him looked like it was gesturing in the direction of a beat about not being afraid of The Other or The Strange just because you can't understand it- and then it turns out, no, Krypton is about as bad as he was afraid it was when the old man was spouting gibberish, if not worse!
But the really obnoxious thing is that if it's meant to be a metaphor for learning about U.S. War Crimes- it raises the question of why they don't just do that with the actual U.S. military, which is already in the show, and already characterized as shady in their domestic anti-Superman operations- just put the focus on their imperialism, have Superman be disillusioned with their conduct! Frankly, Mr. Truth-Justice-And-The-American-Way having to square that branding with American misconduct on the world stage is infinitely more interesting to me than having him rehash the misconduct of a planet that exploded twenty years ago. They used to write comics where he had to do that. Or even where he failed to do that, actually gets laid low by the contradiction.
#The ways in which the army is portrayed as bad feels like. Generic Army Badness. nothing pointed#The high point is when they're doing prisoner experimentation but even that's tied up in how they whiffed Waller#They declare martial law because That's What Armies Do We Guess#uncharitable#thoughts#meta#asks#ask
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Merman x Siren au
Hualian - (part II)

Hello! I'm back to continue the brainrot! Huge thank you for such nice comments TT~TT
If anyone's looking for it, PART I is here ^•^
Anyways, without more gibberish, here we go!
***
Xie Lian had to wait until the night falls to try and sneak out of his small cave that he called home. It's placed on the outskirts of the pod's main settlement, so leaving unnoticed wouldn't be much of a challenge, but he still had to dodge a few patrolling hunters, who took the role of the guards for tonight. Two of them happened to be some of the few friends of his, so if they saw Xie Lian, knowing his nature and urge to help anyone, they would quickly catch him and make him return home.
Taking into account his white tail, he had to be really careful to not get noticed.
He only lets his guard down when he finally reaches a small coral reef that covers the cave formation from his view and vice versa. But now, a new problem arises.
How is he going to find the algae in those impossible darkness?
Of course he has great eyesight even at night, he's a merman after all, but he knows very well the deeper you go, the darker it gets. And as far as he understood, the algae grows in places the light can't reach almost at all!
Oh, how much he would love to have with him right now one of those silly little human inventions that can produce light on their own! Small, moveable sun that humans often use, when they dive into the deeper parts of the waters and sometimes drop, so they remain there for other creatures to investigate.
As a 'scrap collector' Xie Lian had come across a lot of human tools, but that one was specifically mysterious to him. How does that work? It sure can produce light when one presses a right button on its body, but after a longer period of usage, it would simply stop working. The light always came from the inside, but when Xie Lian once managed to open it, only more metal parts came out of it instead of the source of the light. Humans, even if they were quite annoying and unlikeable, sure had some great minds among them.
With his mind drifting to the other human inventions he saw over the years, he hasn't even known how long he has been swimming into the direction of the siren's territory. He only allows himself to daydream about his secret hobby about discovering human tools when no-one's around, because it is strictly forbidden to mingle with humans.
It's not like merpeople are scared of them, more like annoyed and vengeful. Humans are always loud and proud, thinking they're the kings of this whole world they share with countless other species. They leave an extreme amount of trash wherever they go and what do they do when they see something pretty they never saw before? They hunt it down.
Because of that, mers decided to not give them a glance of themselves, no matter how much those bastards would try. Every mer that was ever captured, suffered a miserable fate and never came back home, so every time the hunters saw any human trying to sneak into their pod's territory, they would take their revenge.
However, Xie Lian didn't despise those silly creatures as much as the others of his kin. He was aware there were not only those 'bad' humans up above. Some had to be respectful and interesting - their lost properties were speaking for themselves.
Suddenly, Xie Lian feels something touching his fin, that makes him come back to the now and here. He releases a few incoherent squeaks and clicks, quickly turning his body to face whatever could be behind him, but he sees nobody. Moreover, the touch becomes firmer and goes up his tail a little bit.
Xie Lian looks down in terror, only to realise he's been fretting for nothing.
"Ruoye, you scared me!" he clicks a few sounds, knowing very well the blue-ring octopus wrapping around his body will understand him just alright. The animal stops for a while to look at him with a wordless mocking 'it's your fault your mind was elsewhere, I can't fucking speak'.
After that short moment, the octopus continues to settle on his body in its favourite way, changing its own colour to the lightest it can get, trying to mimic Xie Lian's scales. Even the rings on its body become only the faint shadow of the deep blue they usually are.
"How did you find me even? Were you hunting at the coral reef tonight?" Xie Lian speaks up again, gently petting one of the tentacles that wraps around his arm. "I can't have you go with me, it might get dangerous."
Ruoye was one of Xie Lian's few friends. Since the day he got it out of a broken net that it got trapped in, the octopus was keeping him company almost every day. In general, Xie Lian was very grateful, because the animal was incredibly smart and sometimes even helped him a bit with collecting trash, but right now he'd rather go alone to not put Ruoye in danger.
Despite him clearly stating his mind, Ruoye doesn't seem bothered. One of it's tentacles pokes Xie Lian's cheek and the other pulls at his hair gently, as if the octopus wanted to say 'stop whining and go, out of us both I am venomous and less likely to be in danger', and, well, that's a point Xie Lian can't really argue with.
Defeated, Xie Lian starts swimming again, looking up for a minute to determine how much time he has already spent on this journey. The first rays of sunlight are already visible, crushing into the surface of the ocean, which assures Xie Lian in the thoughts that he's already close to his destination.
Close to the trench in the siren's territory.
***
Let's pretend that octopuses live more than 3-5 years (that's a devastating fact I learnt not so long ago) and Ruoye will stick around for much longer 🥹 Anyways, that's it for today!! We're heading to the siren's territory hehe~ (I have to think of a better title too...)
PART III
#tgcf hualian#tgcf#tgcf fanfic#tgcf hua cheng#tgcf xie lian#xie lian#hua cheng#hualian#tian guan ci fu#hualian au#mxtx tgcf#mxtx#merman#siren#merman au
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CHAPTER 14: BEACH DAY 2
MEMORIES.
──────── ─ ─
JUST THE WAY THINGS GO || MEGUMI X READER
"No way.." Nobara mumbled.
Both Yuji and herself had just seen the same person in the file.
"It's him." Yuji replied.
"It's who?" Maki entered herself in the conversation.
"It's Mahito."
──────────────
Your eyes made its way towards the small group your friends made and randomly disappeared.
You sighed, realizing you're all alone.
That is until a certain voice spoke up.
"They just left..?" Megumi mumbled.
You both stared at each other for a while then he scuffed, turning his head in the other direction.
They left you with Megumi.
You made your way towards the sand, taking off your slippers and found a space to set up your items, since you're all alone you decided to just nap or enjoy the view.
Though the boy who stared at every movement you made had a sour look on his face.
"Maybe you should go catch up with your friends." Satoru suggested.
Megumi only rolled his eyes and made his way towards the sand, a few feet away from you.
Now it was Satoru's time to roll his eyes, mumbling something about "Kids these days..".
All that was on Megumi's mind was his visit to his sister.
.
.
.
"I still don't understand why you forgive her." Megumi started.
Tsumiki just stared at the boy then smiled.
"That's your fault for not believing me." She simply said.
"Then tell me the full story, what actually happened." He pleaded.
"It doesn't matter anymore it's in the past, I don't remember it all anyways.." She mumbled.
Megumi just sighed.
"The only way you can find out is if you asked Y/N herself." She said.
Megumi shot her an annoyed stare.
.
.
.
All this time he was only staring at the girl, until his sister's words hit him again.
Ask you? No way he's gonna ask you anything for all he knows you might lie to him.
He sighed, ruffling his hair.
He took one last look at you then let his mind wondered somewhere else yet again.
.
.
.
It was Sophomore, some days before the incident.
He remembered it, only because he was so happy at the time.
You got invited to their family hang out at the beach, all three of you together as always.
Megumi sat in the sand, staring at both you and his sister playing in the water.
No way he could think that you will ever harm her, in any case you always defended her in any way.
.
.
.
So why does he only feel hatred for you who always protected her.
This time around you caught him staring, causing you both to gasp in surprise.
He looked away, staring off into the sea.
You always protected her..
His face lit up.
.
.
.
The one day that almost everyone in that time will never forget, when you stood up to him.
He picks on the younger years for fun.
But this time around you got so upset that he always targeted Tsumiki that you burst into tears while telling him to go away.
Megumi was surprised that you spoke up, shaking in your boots yet you did it to make sure Tsumiki wasn't harmed.
.
.
.
"The only thing I remembered was that there was a third person there." She told him.
Megumi looked at his sister for a bit then sighed.
.
.
.
A third person up there with them, Y/N always protected her from them.
Megumi gasp a bit, he had a small hunch on who was up there with them but the only thing he can't figure out was why you pushed her.
──────────────
Just then your friends came back running with speed.
"HE'S COMING SOMEONE HELP!" Inumaki yelled.
"Who's coming?" You asked.
All you got in response was a bunch of gibberish with a side or huffing and puffing from him.
"Yeah I totally understood that.." You mumbled.
You turned your head in the direction they came from and saw a certain white haired male from your past.
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note: megs is thinking abt you awww!!!!
#imraeswork#imraespace -♡#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#crack#fluff#angst#jjk megumi#jujutsu megumi#megumi x reader#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi x y/n#megumi x you#megumi
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Since North Blue has it's own lenguage, wouldn't it be funny if in like, ASL+S, Sanji just gets nervous or angry and start to talk in North Blue without even noticing? The ASL would be confused as hell-
Each Blue technically has its own language, but in the East Blue and Grand Line mostly common is spoken so Sanji in any of the ASL+S bullshit I have just getting scared and babbling in Northern Blue and his brothers staring at him like 'what is this gibberish?' and then Sabo realizing Sanji's from another Blue and rolling with it until Sanji gets excited and goes off in his native tongue about something as they stare at him and then ask for an explanation in a language they understand.
Sanji teaching it to his brothers and everything and like Sabo knowing Northern Blue in the revolutionary army as a child and no one can figure out why he would know that. Luffy and Sanji talk in it while they reminisce about Dadan and Foosha, Ace talks to Thatch excitedly in North Blue. They used it to keep secrets and have conversations.
In the verse where Sanji loses his leg and they're all in the White Beard fleet and Shanks and Marco are looking at them as the kids are all half awake just mumbling incoherently to each other in northern and Shanks and Marco are just staring at them in they're drugged fucking state and if the Heart Pirates are there most the have to be trying not to laugh as Law looks at them with confusion and Shanks asking them to translate and Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku eagerly telling them what dumb shit they are saying which is basically like 'shrimp are too good for us' 'shrimp are delicious and they have it coming' 'i can't feel my toes' and other exceptionally dumb shit.
In Dressrosa Sabo and Ace are talking in it at the cabin and Law is once again looking at them in confusion as they catch up like old friends and when he asks it's like 'Sanji taught it to us' and then straight back to northern as Robin laughs.
#black leg sanji#portgas d ace#revolutionary sabo#monkey d. luffy#trafalgar law#vinsmoke sanji#sabo one piece#fire fist ace#straw hat luffy#answers#asl+s#they speak northern!#amputee!sanji
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Hiiii!!
Can I get a friends to lovers scenario with some of the Harry Potter boys (particularly George Weasley and Remus Lupin if you do those two characters ❤️❤️)? Any specifics will do, I’m just a sucker for the trope. Please and Thank you!!!
George Weasley - Friends to Lovers Trope HCs
I know you guys are looking for probably actual writing but right now making bulleted headcanons are just so much easier on me and my melting brain, so for now, take this semi detailed scenario hcs about being friends to lovers with George :))
I'm so sorry I'm advance!! these really are just me rambling about how I think it would go,,, I hope y'all enjoy,,
I promise I'll actually write something better for this soon
•So friends to lovers with the one and only George Weasley. Honestly I see this trope as like,,, you're just best friends with him and he's the one to fall first. And believe me, he falls HARD.
•This man doesn't fall easily for people. At least, not like this. Sure he's had a few fling crushes here and there that he might have hyper fixated on a tiny bit just because he craves the attention. HOWEVER - once he realizes he's falling for his best friend? He's a mess.
•One day he was just listening to you talk to him, Fred, Lee and Angelina and all of a sudden when you laughed about something stupid he said? It made him feel different. It pulled at his heartstrings in the most beautiful way that he was almost sure he imagined it because you never stirred up this reaction out of him before?? So he was very confused.
•No doubt he tried to brush it off but as time went on in the span of the 30 minutes you and everyone else was chatting in the Commons, it dawned on him.
•O h. I'm gaining feelings for my best friend.
•Insert him excusing himself to go do… something else. Probably go try to work on WWW inventions or something. He just needed to take a quick breather and distraction. Everyone thought it was normal but Fred could sense something was off with his twin. So he followed after him? He went to their dorm to see George kind of flustered and freaking out and asked what was wrong.
•Naturally, George is great with words /sar so what ended up coming out of his mouth? Complete gibberish. Fred normally could understand his brother's incessant ramblings but not this time.
•"Woah Georgie, slow down. I can't understand you when you're spilling your words all over the floor like this." He normally would have tried to make light of the situation and he still does. Thankfully, George was able to actually get out what he was trying to say.
•"I think - I think I might be falling for them!"
•Que Fred laughing. Also que George punching him in the arm while yelling "BLOODY HELL FRED THIS ISN'T FUNNY!!!"
•Oh but it is. He knew his brother was rather soft when it came to the mushy feelings of romance, but he didn't think he was this bad.
•So naturally Fred has to talk him through processing these feelings (not that he could really handle his own feelings if he ever liked someone like his twin is currently)
•They're both horrible with their feelings. Despite having a big family, I don't think Molly really was there to help them process their own feelings due to having their younger siblings to take care of. And you know Arthur was always working so it was quite literally just the two of them. Not that they don't appreciate their family but c'mon now.
•ANYWAYS I'm getting off track here. George eventually figures out his feelings and yes, its very apparent he feels something for you.
•So he and Fred try to plan accordingly about how to bring it up to you. But you're so… you. George doesn't want to mess whatever you guys have up.
•I will say however that you've noticed him acting a bit different. So the plan the twins had goes out the window once you confront and ask George about his behavior in the next coming weeks.
•He cracks, because he just can't lie to you! Not when you're looking at him like that. So he ends up spilling a confession of which almost gets missed by how hesitant and quiet he gets.
•Thankfully your ears work (unlike mine lmao) and you take his confession in pride. You tell him you appreciate it (which he swears he's about to be rejected just because of those words alone-) but then you tell him that you'd be willing to try. Because recently you had started to see him in a different light.
•He's ecstatic tbh and SO relieved. Like when I tell you he let out the biggest sigh of relief? I MEAN IT.
•This is how your relationship with him starts. Yeah it's a little messy, but not in a bad way! George has next to no idea what he's doing because he REALLY does care for you and he doesn't want to let you down or hurt you.
•Just be patient with him, okay? I promise he makes it all worth it <33
#x reader#harry potter x reader#harry potter#george weasley#george weasley x reader#harry potter headcanon#george weasley headcanon#weasley twins#weasley twins x reader#weasley twins headcanons
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Ena mauling people, my beloved
Have Some More! And Some More! Have Tons of ENA Maulings!
It was a quarter past noon, and ENA had yet to find anything interesting to do. She'd had her fun with Moony, went on an adventure that left them both covered in some weird pink goo, and was now clean and itching for more action. She watched people wander along the streets with a small frown, hating how a small part of her digital brain was yelling at her to cause some form of chaos.
This just wasn't fair! The grubby chicken in her stomach had too much control as of late, and any bad decisions made were its fault, not hers!
"Mama? Can we go to see the Wally Whales?" Asked a small headstone, the bitty creature trailing behind its supposed mother and asking question after question. "Can we get food? Where are we going? When are we going home? Look! A snake!"
ENA scowled, now partially understanding why Meanie got so annoyed when Sad complained about the tiniest things. The sound was grating, made ENA's ears ring, and made her want to leap forward and break the headstone with a single kick. Perhaps make it wail and beg for mercy.
Why did she want to do those things? It was quite rude to even think!
"Ah, little ones. They certainly can be a handful." A tall, owl-like figure chuckled. It looked down at ENA with wide eyes, getting as close to her as she would allow without growling. "So, what is the date? You ENAs tend to hold quite long for your size."
"Um... Pardon?" ENA asked, looking around as if she was expecting to see someone else around. "The date? It is Friday of 3IVIII, is it not?"
"No, no. Not the current date, darling. The date of joy." The owl clarified with a patient smile, shifting around in a very strange manner. He picked his legs up higher than necessary as he moved, head tilting left and right for every minute ENA took to respond.
"I can't say I'm following the intent of your accusation." ENA replied, wondering why this creature found its presence in her life necessary. "Every day is one of joy for me."
The owl chuckled, an eerie sound that made ENA shudder. "I see. You must not be too far in. Runas knows you barely show it."
"Right..." ENA muttered, tapping her fingers on her leg anxiously. "Anyhow, I believe I have time to kill."
"Very well. Do enjoy your days."
"You as well, feathered shaman." ENA politely chimed before scuttling off. She let out a soft noise of displeasure as she got farther from the owl, scratching incessantly at her suddenly itchy arms. "I itch for an outlet, but know not what that outlet may be."
"Hey! You! Step away from my rocks! They are mine! MINE, I SAY!"
ENA hummed with interest as she came upon a tall rat-like creature, one that looked similar to her mind's eye version of that Alex Hoarder fellow her beloved had told her of. She watched as the creature scrambled around to pick up rocks and anything that looked like them, muttering something about "No good children hoarders" all the while.
"Apologies, kind sir," ENA chimed, "but what ails your emotions as of now?"
The rat groaned, tossing a rock into a pile with a scowl. "You ENAs and your silly rules! Making everyone look bad! I say stay away from my rocks! Leave them be before they catch wind of your illegal activities!"
"I apologize, sir, but I truly know not of what you speak." ENA honestly replied, yelping as a firecracker was tossed at her feet. "Why, that is perhaps one of the ruder ways to obstruct a guest's passage!"
"Good!" The rat huffed, tossing his nose in the air petulantly. "Now, you and your co-conspirator leave this place! Find its second source of life!"
ENA shook her head in confusion, wanting to know what the hell this rat man was talking about, but not wanting to hear any more of his crazed gibberish. "Very well. Do enjoy your day."
"Pah! Enjoy your illegal life!" The rat spat back. "Adding to the crowded Third Ring! Irresponsible! Absolutely disgusting! It makes my ears sick!"
"Ooookay?" ENA continued on without another word to the rat man, shuddering and scratching at her arms yet again. "All of this confusion is making for an aching stomach and itchy skin."
The moody ENA walked on until she stumbled across a large crowd of mannequins, who appeared to be... protesting something?
"Leave us be with your claustrophobic rules!" One mannequin shouted.
"Give our people justice!" Another roared.
"We didn’t ask for your slaughtering opinions!" A third cried, earning screams of agreement from a handful of others. "No more slaughter! Give them sons and daughters! No more slaughter! Give them sons and daughters!"
The crowd chanted this over and over, growing more and more riled up by the second. A wave of adrenaline ran through them, some of it affecting ENA's already mixed up train of thought. She grew closer to the crowd, wondering if someone could explain the ruckus.
"Look! Here is one now! Bring her forward and show them a face of those affected!"
ENA squeaked as a few mannequins started growing closer to her, making her skin crawl and eyes widen. "No, no! I don't want- Please don't interact with my figure!"
The group ignored her, continuing to grow closer even as she started to become visibly agitated.
"Leave my presence unnoticed! I wish not for interaction!" ENA started to back up, wanting to get away from the source of her ever-growing nervousness. She wished desperately for RENA to be present, for Sales to swoop in like a dashing knight, and for Meanie to fight off these persistent beasts. "Pwease! I'm gwowing vewy uncomfowtable!"
The second someone's hand gripped her hair, all hell broke loose.
The last thing ENA remembered lucidly thinking was "Danger! Danger! Danger!" After that, images and thoughts came in pieces. Loud growling and snarling, screaming and crying, the odd feeling of rain rocks splashing on her face- Wait, no, that wasn’t rain, it was too thick. Was it mud? An odd soil? It had a gross scent, one of copper and broken dreams.
"LOOK UPON THE FURY AND REMIND YOURSELVES OF OUR RIGHTFUL PUNISHMENT!" The scream was crazed, spoke of ill will and dangerous intent. It made ENA's itching grow worse, and she moved her hands to scratch the acrid spots, though she didn't feel her hands make contact with skin.
Her own, anyway.
Flashes of red, black, blue, yellow. It all splashed into one giant puddle that attacked ENA's eyes and left her with a gross pit deep in her gut. Her grubby chicken squirmed excitedly, driving ENA to continue on with more conviction than she felt she was capable of.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Happy's and Sad's voices mixed together in a disturbing concoction of fury, deepening towards the ending lilt of ENA's plea and seemingly shaking the ground.
Silence followed the scream, deafening in its entirety and pushing down on ENA with a supernatural force. She shook and whimpered with every breath, throat and eyes burning as if they’d been set ablaze. For all of five minutes, ENA stood in this silence, opening an eye only after realizing no one was saying or doing anything.
"I apologize for my outburst." ENA feebly announced, standing straight and looking around curiously. There were mannequins lying on the ground, drenched in some odd liquid, one that reeked of the copper that made ENA sick just thinking about. "Well, that seems like quite the uncomfortable place to rest."
"ENA! Oh, Runas! There you are! Come on, we gotta go before-" Moony's frantic words stopped the moment she saw her best friend. There was a weird standoff between them, one that seemed to have no clear end. When one went to talk, so did the other, making for an incredibly awkward moment. "You... You don't look too great."
"I don't?" ENA's voice glitched slightly, and a shudder ran through her body. "What do I look like?"
"An axe murderer." Moony simply replied, floating closer to ENA and looking around with concern clear on her face. "Ugh, what drove you to this?"
"What? I've done nothing." ENA tilted her head slightly, grunting as Moony gripped her face and shoved her closer to one of the fallen mannequins.
"I'm sure he wasn’t shredded to bits seconds ago."
ENA blinked rapidly, grunting as her gaze came into focus with every flash. One second produced a wavy picture of sleeping mannequins, another revealing wounds ENA somehow hadn’t noticed before, and a final blink made ENA reel back with a shocked gasp.
"No! I didn’t do that! I wasn't- I would never!" ENA cried, placing her hands over her mouth and trying not to vomit. It was only then that she was finally aware of the gunk on her hands. That coppery smell now had a name, and those chunks...
"You could've stopped at one." Moony muttered, scrutinizing one of the twitching mannequins with a narrowed eye. "This is overkill. Literally."
"I didn't mean to..." ENA whimpered, squeaking as Moony pulled her into a side hug.
"You probably didn't, but that ain't gonna be enough for the cops. Come on, let's get you to your girlfriend. I'm sure her job has crap to get rid of this gross gunk." Moony urged ENA to start walking, refusing to let either of them turn and look at the carnage. "I don't have money to bail you out."
ENA stayed silent, staring forward but not seeing. She had just killed people, and Moony was acting like this was normal! It wasn't! Not at all!
Right?
Moony continued to babble on about not being rich, saying this, that, and the other to enunciate her point. It was frustrating, but offered ENA an escape from the ringing in her ears, so she decided that the best thing to do now was push everything to the side. Forget it happened.
ENA didn't want to think of what may happen to her if she couldn't.
#ENA#ENA Joel G#Goofy Pixel Woman Gets Angy#No One Will Leave Her Alone About Her Darn Grubby Chicken!#Poor Girl#Everyone but Her Knows
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okay now i need to dump some more nuclear scientist dew thoughts to you, so lets just imagine a few things…
dew in a conference or lecture smth, so focused, he wears glasses, taking notes, very attentive, shushing swiss who was beside him constantly whispering
like i said, long hair in a bun that gets messier pver time
lab goggles! and white long lab coats!
he loves documentaries about anything science
living off coffee and energy drinks and protein bars (bcs dont we all)
talking about atoms and energy and radiation and complicated formulas full of greek letters with aether and omega bcs @jimothybarnes once said quintessence could be real (smth abt energy or matter iirc? i tried googling it once but couldnt understand it 😭), its for his phd thesis
the other just hear gibberish, probably simlish
I fully support this head cannon but let me add to it, cause I asked and you said yes, but it needs some Rain in it.
I hope it's ok I added the below ;)
So Rain has to be like the coffee shop owner or the someone dew buys from everyday. And if course he is incredibly hot, like it that way he knows he is hot but not the douchebag hot way. He sees Dew every day come in and he tries to talk to him but Dew is quiet. He has his hair down when he gets his coffee cause it's before his day starts. He has his little badge already around his neck, cause he can't forget and leaves the apartment with it on. Little crossbody bag with his lab coat on his shoulder. He looks cute. Sometimes he has his glasses up on his head, sometimes he is wearing them, it depends how distracted he is in line. And of course all Rain wants to do is throw the glasses off of his face and kiss him, because damn.
Until one day Dew comes in later in the afternoon, he is having a shitty day, nothing is working right, so why not pop over and see that hot coffee bar owner, a look at him will make his day better. Right? Right. But when Dew comes in, still in his lab coat, hair in a bun, tendrils falling out, he doesn't see Rain or anyone for a moment. Until he spies Rain in the back pushing Phantom up against the counter (his incredibly hot barista, that Dew wasnt overly sad about if Rain wasn't there if he waited on him) devouring his face. Dew of course gasps, because what and wait, he had this all planned in his sciency mind that Rain was his.
Rain heard the gasp and looks up to see Dew in the front, he promptly pulls away from Phantom and kisses his lips one last time before telling him to wait, he will be back.
Rain comes out of the back goes around the counter to Dew, grabs his badge around his neck, cause he has dreamed about doing this and pulls Dew to him and tells him that he can fill that mouth that is still open with something he might like. He moves away from Dew to lock the front door, and switch the sign to closed.
Dew just stands there in all his shocked glory, until Rain pulls him to the back by his badge. Before going through the door he leans into Dew and closes his mouth, then puts his lips to his kissing him softly before pulling him along for some stress relief that Dew surely needs.
And yes, Rain took those glasses on top of Dew's head and put them on him as he grabbed his hair, wedging his fingers between the bun and his head, to kiss him desperately. That is until he took them off of him and threw them across the room, along with that stupid badge. The lab coat could stay on.
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I Sacrificed My Writing To A.I So You Don't Have To
I was thinking about how people often say "Oh, Chat GPT can't write stories, but it can help you edit things!" I am staunchly anti-A.I, and I've never agreed with this position. But I wouldn't have much integrity to stand on if I didn't see for myself how this "editing" worked. So, I sacrificed part of a monologue from one of my fanfictions to Chat GPT to see what it had to say. Here is the initial query I made:
Chat GPT then gave me a list of revisions to make, most of which would be solved if it was a human and had read the preceding 150k words of story. I won't bore you with the list it made. I don't have to, as it incorporated those revisions into the monologue and gave me an edited sample back. Here is what it said I should turn the monologue into:
The revision erases speech patterns. Ben/the General speaks in stilted, short sentences in the original monologue because he is distinctly uncomfortable—only moving into longer, more complex structures when he is either caught up in an idea or struggling to elaborate on an idea. The Chat GPT version wants me to write dialogue like regular narrative prose, something that you'd use to describe a room. It also nullified the concept of theme. "A purity that implied personhood" simply says the quiet(ish) part out loud, literally in dialogue. It erases subtlety and erases how people actually talk in favor of more obvious prose. Then I got a terrible idea. What if I kept running the monologue through the algorithm? Feeding it its own revised versions over and over, like a demented Google Translate until it just became gibberish? So that's what I did. Surprisingly enough, from original writing sample to the end, it only took six turnarounds until it pretty much stopped altering the monologue. This was the final result:
This piece of writing is florid, overly descriptive, unnatural, and unsubtle. It makes the speaking character literally give voice to the themes through his dialogue, erasing all chances at subtext and subtlety. It uses unnecessary descriptors ("Once innocuous," "gleaming," "receded like a fading echo," "someone worth acknowledging,") and can't comprehend implication—because it is an algorithm, not a human that processes thoughts. The resulting writing is bland, stupid, lacks depth, and seemingly uses large words for large word's sake, not because it actually triggers an emotion in the reader or furthers the reader's understanding of the protagonist's mindset.
There you have it. Chat GPT, on top of being an algorithm run by callous, cruel people that steals artist's work and trains on it without compensation or permission, is also a terrible editor. Don't use it to edit, because it will quite literally make your writing worse. It erases authorial intention and replaces it with machine-generated generic slop. It is ridiculous that given the writer's strike right now, studios truly believe they can use A.I to produce a story of marginal quality that someone may pay to see. The belief that A.I can generate art is an insult to the writing profession and artists as a whole—I speak as a visual artist as well. I wouldn't trust Chat GPT to critique a cover letter, much less a novel or poem.
#fanfiction#writing#chatgpt#ai#aiwriting#artificial intelligence#fanfic#fanfic meta#artificially generated#writers on tumblr#writer problems#cryptobros#if these people ever took one humanities class they'd see the issues with these algorithms#anti chat gpt#anti capitalism#anti ai#don't use chat gpt to edit your work for the love of god#ai can't write#ao3#star wars fanfiction meta#wga strike#support the writers!#wga solidarity
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