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#man i can already see that
vynnyal · 4 months
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So let me get this straight:
Hollow knight is about the journey of a small creature possessing the corpse of a god's discarded child, and the character arc that unfolds as they realize they're more than the path they were set to take, eventually defeating the corruption instead of merely postponing inevitable destruction.
Rain world is about the journeys and experiences of many small creatures sent by a bunch of gossiping computers, and the efforts to help stop the destruction caused by a corrupted god that unfolds over hundreds of years, all to postpone his inevitable death.
Man, video games are fun!
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cloud-ya · 26 days
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big win for butch lesbian community
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moeblob · 30 days
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So does he, Gallagher.
#honkai star rail#hsr blade#gallagher#i based this off of how many times i used funny soda man to help be a healer with his poppin soda pop in SU#and then blade constantly just being blade as usual#its normally him saying unnecessary to my actual healer but#i kept forgetting gallagher heals and i kept healing when i didnt even need to so TECHNICALLY yeah it was unnecessary#but the amount of times blade was the recipient......#i cant use like most of my newer units in story bc i cant ascend or i run out of leveling mats so i just#get them and toss them into simulated universe for funsies cause i can match their levels better#so thats where i tossed gallagher and he is genuinely fun to play as ? like i love his punches and kicks to start the battle#funny soda man is funny (to me) and im really behind in plot still#but last time i tried to play it on my laptop and got a kickass cutscene my laptop lagged and i couldnt even see it RIP to me#so now that its like ... me trying to play it on desktop ?#i mostly get on desktop for comms and if i do much else i feel like im slacking off even if i would take a break anyway#one day i can play more story plot stuff and actually meet the funny guys#also in case you know me for Not Having Boys in HSR i need to point out#i did pull Gallagher however same 10 pull got a 4 star girl copy for someone i never use and she is at e4 now cool#and i didnt even think of the irony as i started this i just like drawing blade and i wanted to draw gallagher#so when i already had the dialogue planned and am drawing i was like OH WAIT haha im funnier than i thought#(no i am not but we can pretend)
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 8 months
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As we approach the next arc in the story, an outfit change is now on the horizon! The question is, what are our lads going to wear?
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(Please also vote in the Lan Wangji poll!)
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turtleblogatlast · 2 months
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Leo being put into a situation where there is absolutely no fighting, just verbal manipulation and perception games, would be amazing to witness. We see a lot in the series how good he is at subterfuge and how he uses his perception to manipulate to great effect, so it’d be so cool to really see it put to the test even more.
Manipulation is one of the most effective tactical strategies of all time, so just imagine Leo putting this skillset of his to the full test. Imagine the boys slowly get up to busting bigger and more powerful criminals, including those with networks of crime under their belt, and a simple fight isn’t enough to take them down. For criminals like this, Leo’s skills in subterfuge would be deadly.
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celestialrealms · 4 months
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Fun fact: In Barbatos's intimacy storyline in Nightbringer he ends up living with Solomon and MC at Cocytus Hall temporarily. Here's a highlight from his 40 intimacy call:
The way he makes Solomon sit in the corner. 😭 You cannot convince me he didn't raise this man.
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hawkinsbnbg · 2 months
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Steve Harrington was a dragon.
Once upon a time, he would kidnap a princess, imprison her in his tower, guard the said tower, and await his doom delivered by a knight in shining armor.
But this wasn't that kind of fairy tale. No, in this story, Steve and the princess were friends. Her lover was a fae who was his platonic soulmate, and the knight in shining armor was his brother in arms.
Still, no one, even Steve himself, foreseen it when a handsome mercenary arrived at his tower and stole his heart.
Steve never felt so adored in his long and boring life, but Edwyn "Eddie" Munson managed to do the impossible.
The man was good with his words, even better with his fingers when he scratched the itchy spots beneath Steve's scales and drew runes of protection and love on Steve's human body.
Eddie was also an attentive lover who brought Steve sparkly gifts every time he visited the tower.
In turn, Steve let the mercenary ride on his back in their adventures, let the man guide him to wherever he was pleased, and let himself be consumed in the amorous looks Eddie would give him when the man thought he didn't notice.
Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan had been suspicious at first about Eddie's true motive. They worried that the mercenary would betray Steve because, despite his peaceful nature, Steve was the most powerful of his kind. And frankly, many had hunted him throughout his life given that even a piece of his scales cost a fortune in black markets.
Their concern was warranted, Steve supposed, but he trusted Eddie to not do him harm. Yet, sometimes, when Steve couldn't sleep at night, he would think about the worst and decide that if Eddie asked, he would give the man everything.
After all, Eddie already had his heart.
In the end, Eddie only asked of him a vial of his blood to cure Wayne's illness.
The day the truth came out was when Eddie approached him and stated that his uncle couldn't wait any longer.
Steve could see the desperation and hope in those chocolate eyes that he so loved, and knew for certain that Eddie wouldn't fight him but would be on his knees and beg until he agreed to help.
Before things could go any worse, Steve decided to take the matter into his own hands. Literally.
"So you had approached me because of my blood," Steve smiled wryly at the sting of the betrayal as he let Eddie dress the gash on his forearm. They both knew the cut would heal in a few minutes, but Steve didn't turn down Eddie's help. Couldn't.
"You should know that I didn't only have your blood in mind," Eddie fastened the bandage's knot securely.
"What? Are you asking for my organs next?" Steve huffed out a bitter laugh. "I heard they're quite useful ingredients for rituals and potions."
"No," Eddie met his eyes calmly and guided Steve's hand to rest on his chest. "Please listen to the song of my heart and do know that it is never a lie when I say this: I've been wanting all of you for myself since I first laid eyes on you."
Steve blinked rapidly in bewilderment and awe. Every dragon had an innate talent, and Steve's was the ability to see only the truth.
Thus, when Eddie opened himself up so freely like that, Steve could also see the man's deepest desire. And what he saw made him blush terribly. This man was truly hopeless.
"You never do anything in half, do you?" Steve snorted.
"Once Uncle Wayne gets better, I will return to the tower and never leave your side again," Eddie held his hand tightly as if fearing he would take it back and peppered feathery kisses on his knuckles.
Those words sung true to Steve's heart. Yet, he also sensed the wordless yearning from his lover. There was only one way, wasn't it?
"I'll go with you, then. I think it's time for you to introduce me to your family."
"Are you sure?"
Looking at Eddie's hopeful eyes, Steve leaned in to kiss the love of his life soundly.
"As sure as gold."
They both chuckled fondly at the memory together. After all, the first thing Eddie had given him upon their meeting was a sparkling bar of gold.
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sergle · 7 months
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(re: sssniperwolf and jacksfilms) It's laughable that she escalated it that hard. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure stalking him like that is illegal and it's terrifying regardless, but Jack said in a stream (can't remember which one) that he wasn't about bringing up past controversies of hers or cancelling. And now she shows up outside his house (wtf!!!). Like he was willing to only call her out for stealing and freebooting but she's gone and stalked him and Jack doesn't seem like the type of guy to take that shit. Actual WTF moment from her part. wild
omg long post below bc apparently I have opinions: YES!! THAT'S WHAT'S SO INCREDIBLE ABOUT THIS... Jack has been genuinely diligent about keeping things on-topic in his streams, and hasn't brought up any of her other Stuff, or anything Personal. Despite the fact that she kickstarted the whole thing by making it INCREDIBLY personal and attacking his physical appearance... His goal has been to call out and bring attention to content theft, and he's stuck with it. Dude's also cared about this for years, and she's not the first content thief he's criticized. He just hates the way that freebooting has become so accepted-- to the point where youtube praised her for "coming up with such creative video ideas"? Hey! Ew! Dude wasn't trying to get her cancelled though, there was no smear campaign of her character. He's been rallying to get her to CREDIT the creators that she relies on for all of her content. It would set a precedent for all other "react" channels on the platform for one of the biggest channels on youtube to actually give credit where credit is due. Or, god forbid, get permission first? It's not hard. It's already done the job of making some other people who do "react content" self-analyze whether or not their content is transformative, and to maybe care about crediting the creators they rely on for their genre to work. There is a way to make this kind of video that isn't so slimy. And making fun of her lackluster-at-best reactions is so far from even being a big deal. Bc she literally does just sit there and say nothing. Plus, his goal has a clear End built into it: if she started shouting out the creators she takes content from, and put links directly to their pages in her video descriptions, the job would be done! That's what he's asking her to do. Real bare minimum stuff. It legit would have been easy to steer away from the content theft and to also talk about her history of lying to her audience! her ghosting a dying kid with cancer who was a big fan of hers! the fact that she's been arrested for armed robbery! her history of transphobia! He would also get more clicks that way, which is what she claims is his sole goal- to get more clicks. I'll bring it up though! She's been a terrible person the whole time, and has kept a steady course of manipulating her audience of young children and/or, let's be completely honest, simps- into thinking that she's a Wholesome creator. (And now, into thinking she's an innocent victim.) All of the actual effort put in by her has gone toward optics, not the content she puts out. A carefully constructed online persona, for one, but also literal appearances. Jack totally can't say this, bc she already went off the handle and said the only reason he doesn't like her is bc he Hates To See A Woman Be Successful. But I can! That was a cheap shot for her to use that argument when, for once, it's not applicable! Much the opposite, even! Dudes online wouldn't go to bat for her if she didn't look the way she does. And it weakens any case she'd have against him by making baseless claims like that. She banks hugely on being an attractive woman to get her clicks/following. A massive amount of effort is put into her appearance. The makeup, the lip fillers, putting her hair in little pigtails, the chokers and tube tops, the big non-prescription Nerd Glasses, the thumbnails where she has her mouth open in That Expression?
I don't even have to say anything. But making a weird facial expression and putting your hair in pigtails aren't moral failings. Showing up at someone's real life home (whose address you shouldn't even have access to), filming the front of their house at night, doxxing them to your audience of millions of people? Because you were mad at them online? That is fully scary! Yeah girl I'm pretty sure that Jack can press charges! There is absolutely no way to take the moral highground now that she's literally stalked him, and doxxed his home. She tried to goad him and Erin (Jack's wife) out of the house, also, which creeps me out even more-- because what was she planning to do? The fact that she's been arrested for violent crime before does pop into my mind! lmao! Jack was streaming a game at the time that she was outside his home, and these clips of him, his friends, and Erin reacting in real time to what is genuinely a scary situation have been taken down in case he needs to use them in legal action. Shit is legitimately serious!
#sergle answers#long post#LONGEST POST ON EARTH I'M SO SORRY#saying all this out loud only takes a few minutes but typing it... girl this is a BOOK#clearly I have thoughts on this Online Drama but also this isn't online!#these are people who exist in real life. and compromising a person's safety bc he criticized you for stealing tiktoks#is a real life thing. this isn't confined to online spaces! you can turn off your computer to get away from An Argument#but someone going to your house?? that's absolutely terrifying#and all of this is just because he's been telling her to credit the creators. it could have been resolved so simply.#I hope he takes legal action against her bc he genuinely has grounds to do so.#and I can't imagine how terrified and upset I would be if someone was outside my door. filming my house for their audience.#also the 'what if the roles were reversed' argument is rarely made in good faith... but she's already brought up the topic.#this would be getting even more coverage and the optics would be Even Creepier if a strange man with millions of followers showed up#at the home of a woman- just bc she criticized his videos- filming her home address for all to see and trying to get her to come outside.#It's just as creepy that sssniperwolf did this as it would be coming from ANYONE else#it's been downplayed bc her being a little skinny woman means that A Man shouldn't be threatened by her#which. even if she wasn't going to Do anything. any one of her rabidly loyal online followers MIGHT. she's not the only one who could go to#his house now! anyone could show up.#sergle.txt#Jacksfilms#Sssniperwolf
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yeah so i'm falling for @weevmo's Guys... they're so neat! i dig their vibes and can't wait to see what Corduroy Stew is all about <3
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whaliiwatching · 10 months
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gradual closing of the gap
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livejournallegacy · 9 months
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dunesdudesdancing.mp4
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elitadream · 3 months
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I HAVE RETURNED!!! 💃🎉✨
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starays13 · 4 months
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Welcome back, Eclipse.
Just putting a version with no text here
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Honestly I can’t remember the last time I just drew Sun and Moon Show Eclipse outside of any of the AUs.
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tswwwit · 6 months
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Here's a thing! Reincarnation of Dipper who's not in the best of situations. (A Cult)
Got some gore and knives in here so watch out!
In the room of ritual, everything is ready. 
Off in that wide and majestic space, the candles are lit. The circle is drawn. The altar spread with gold and trinkets, little offerings of delight and whimsy, tomes of knowledge. Along with the remnants of the latest sacrifice, dried in long trails down the stone.
The tomes, though. If one looked closely, they would see mostly encyclopedia volumes from like, sixty years ago. Because, yeah, those are going to be so tempting for a being of infinite knowledge.
Long chanting rings through the hallways, preparing the way. The ritual is in less than an hour. In preparation for the service, the servants of their lord make themselves presentable. 
Dipper adjusts his robe - too big for him, by at least one size- and pulls at the neckline. It always drags up against his throat, in a tight, uncomfortable way. He tugs it down again, glaring into the small mirror on the otherwise bare wall.
Bill Cipher is the most powerful being in the universe, and his reach is infinite and his discernment of the mind and mastery of mysteries is unquestionable, yadda yadda yadda. 
Dipper just. Doesn’t know what everyone else here expects to happen. Especially with the setup unchanged from the one he saw last year. And the year before that. And the one before that. 
Odds are, this ritual is going to end up the same as every other one. 
Pointless.
Dipper adjusts his robes again, and smooths out the front with slow strokes. As long as this is going to happen, he might as well avoid drawing attention to himself. He’s had enough ‘attention’ for more than a lifetime.
There’s a rhythm to these ceremonies.  Dipper hears the footsteps, and easily tucks the hood of his robe up, only semi-stumbling as he joins the twin lines of robed figures leading into the ritual room. 
As he tucks his hands together, covering them with long sleeves - Dipper spends another moment to silently sigh. 
He joins the line, ducking his head as he joins in formation. The two lines of followers shuffle on with their long robes brushing the floor. He can hear them whispering to each other; varying levels of excitement, boredom. Talking about plans for after the ritual. He thinks he picks up one of the more devout members, almost humming with anticipation.
Despite the murmurs, the sight itself could be quite impressive. An all-seeing eye, if it was real, might even appreciate it.
Still, all these dramatics are so over the top. Just as fruitless and stupid as every other prayer, or ritual. Never worked before, not gonna work now. Dipper’s not sure why they’re trying the same freakin’ thing, over and over again.
For a bunch of people obsessed with the infinite power and knowledge Cipher represents, they haven’t accrued any. 
And for that matter! If Bill Cipher’s eye is truly all-seeing, why hasn’t he ever responded? His triangle is emblazoned on every wall, and on their robes. You can’t look at a surface without seeing it staring back at you, and there’s no short of devout worshipers, constantly praying and doing rites. 
Dipper dares a glance at one of the long scrawls on the walls, seething slightly at the handwriting. And the grammar.
If he was watching, surely he would have spoken up by now. Even if it’s just to critique the decor, which is tacky as hell.
The main ritual room fills up with warm bodies, and Dipper stands in an inconspicuous place. Just to the left, and not quite entirely in the back. At the front of the room, he can see the priest nodding approvingly, hands tucked behind his back. 
Hidden under the sleeves, Dipper clenches his hands together. Breathing out a silent prayer of his own, to nobody particular. He can stand stock-still through one or two more ridiculous rituals, if it means no more prayers to a blind idiot god.
A week. Maybe two. That’s it.
Then he’ll be out of these robes, and far, far away from here. He’ll never see these people again. He’ll never have to chant a single verse again in slightly incorrect Latin. He’ll never have to kneel, or go before that stone altar again, not even once.
The outside world is - there’s a lot of talk about it. There’s always a lot of talk, more or less colored by personal experiences and levels of permission to go ‘outside’. Dipper’s learned, now, that well over ninety percent of the gossip is lies. 
If his palms still sweat at the prospect, it’s because it’s… New. Different. But it can’t possibly be worse than here, and, like. Novelty is condoned by his not-really-a-god. Trying new things should be standard doctrine - if the priest wasn’t a total idiot.
Not much longer, now. 
Out there, things will be better. Out there, Dipper will have a chance at having a life. 
And there won’t be any trouble, since he’ll keep his mouth shut.
 “Children of Cipher!” The high-pitched voice of the priest rings tinnily through the air. “We are once again assembled!”
Dipper bows in concert with his fellows. Staring at the ground is a good way to not roll his eyes. 
A chant rises up, and he keeps his lips clamped together as he mirrors the ritual bowing and scraping and general genuflection. The priest will go on and on, no matter what he does. 
All it takes to get through this is time. Another round of kneeling, then standing, then kneeling, until they stand at the last word in a thronging chorus.
“Brothers!” A louder, shriller call, now that everyone has been drawn close to a fervor. For all his faults, the priest does know how to read the mood - “Tonight is a special evening!” His arms thrown up, spindly and bare as the sleeves drop near to his shoulders. “Who will bleed for our god?”
The only thing that prevents Dipper from flinching is how much attention that would draw.
He hardly dares to breathe, lest some wayward motion be taken as ‘enthusiasm.’ 
Dipper keeps his head bowed, as murmurs start up around him and  his forehead starts to prickle with sweat. 
Sacrifices happen all the time. Mostly animals. Last year they got a goat, and that was considered a pretty big one and the stew afterwards was filling, and probably tasted pretty good. 
Human blood, though. That’s - They haven’t done this in years. 
The susurration of voices in the background grow louder, and Dipper stays bowed in place. Of course nobody wants to volunteer; ‘willing’ isn’t easily found when it comes to getting a knife in your flesh - but someone’s going to bleed, tonight. The ‘volunteer’ bit will be justified by whatever’s convenient.
Around him there’s murmurs, a few, low arguments. Tension is starting to rise, but for the most part, he’s being overlooked.
He nearly thinks he’s gotten away with it, too, when a hard shove on his back sends him stumbling forward.
“Here, brothers!” The voice rings in Dipper’s ears as he tries to backtrack, slipping on the robes of the person in front of him and dropping painfully to the floor. “The provider!”
Shit, shit, shit. 
Dipper tries to glance back at whatever asshole pushed him, but the crowd’s already grouped together into a bunch of faceless clumps, drawing back from his fall. 
He levels the worst glare he can manage, even as both his arms are seized by two of his so-called ‘brothers’. The big ones. 
Gritting his teeth, Dipper digs in his heels. Struggling’s ineffective, protesting’s impossible. Gesturing wildly, including a raised finger in the general direction of the asshole who pushed him, Dipper gets dragged to the foot of the altar. 
“See how he offers his flesh! See how he shakes with joy!” The priest jogs his arms in the air. Dipper shakes his head rapidly holding up his hands. “His arms, already offered!”
And for a moment Dipper’s simply annoyed at how obvious it is that the whole damn ritual is a farce. 
“Tonight, we call upon the god! Tonight! We-”
Whatever else he’s yelling about, Dipper doesn’t pay any mind. He’s busy trying to use the loose robes to worm his way out of the guards’ grip. It halfway works, until one of them gets him by the bare wrist and painfully pulls it out.
The cold stone hits his waist. One of his sleeves is drawn to his shoulder. His arm pinned, bare and wrist upraised, on the stone. 
Damn it, if he finds out who shoved him, he’s going to - he arches up, but firm hands hold his shoulders. There’s little time to think about revenge when he’s trying to find a way out of this. Arm, stuck. Shoulders, held. The exits, totally blocked by a bunch of crowded figures. 
In a way, Dipper can’t truly blame them. After all, if the current sacrifice got away, who knows? 
They could be next. 
The priest seems pleased, at least. He paces in front of the altar, gesticulating wildly, and rambling on about god and blood, and other nonsensical bullshit.
Great. They have their ‘sacrifice’ for tonight. So, so super ‘willing’ too, what with how he, quote ‘rushed to offer himself’, end quote. 
Dipper takes a long breath, holding it for three beats. Then he lets it out. 
Okay. If this follows most other ‘human sacrifices’, it should be bearable. Some bloodletting, a nasty scar. Maybe a missing finger, but he’s learned to deal with worse. Push through the moment, wait for it to be over. Soon enough, he’ll be on the other side of this entire godawful situation.
Focusing on the transitory nature of pain helps him steady his breathing. And more importantly, slow his heart rate.
Calming meditation. He can work on that. Though it’s difficult, with the way the priest keeps going on and on about an ‘auspicious night’. Also, the very large, curved, very sharp-looking knife.
Dipper tries his best not to stare at it. Or to linger too much on the thought of knives and flesh and blood. If he could stop thinking, for once in his stupid life, it’ll be over before he knows it.
That’s totally not not the usual knife, though. He wonders where the hell it came from.
Last time, it was some basic utilitarian repurposed chef-thing, with a crudely engraved triangle on the hilt and the blade. This one’s much more… Ceremonial. Sharper, too, with a wicked curve and a gleaming edge, and covered in runes that Dipper’s never seen before.
He mouths a swear as one guard uncurls his fingers from the edge of the altar, turning his wrist back upright. The priest waves the very, very sharp blade around, yelling something that Dipper doesn’t bother parsing, even as his mind races. He can tell it’s definitely not Cipher runes on that thing, and not the old Latin their god prefers. Did someone go outside to find this? Another random artifact that the priest got his hands on? Seems like he’s always picking up useless semi-magic items.
The knife doesn’t feel ‘useless’, though, even from a glance. It radiates a pure and terrifying purpose. 
Especially as it comes down, and rests against his wrist. Almost gently, its point bites a drop of blood from his skin.
The fetid breath of the priest pants over the altar. Dipper turns away, neck twisting as far as he can manage, eyes shut.
Please let this be just a bit. Just a drop. A small, tentative cut to fill a bit of the channels on the stone. There’s a sting to the metal, a slight burn, and though Dipper’s not one of the main Holders of Mysteries or anything, he feels like that’s a very bad sign.
Then he feels. Cold.
It runs down his inner arm, lingering for an instant before blossoming into sharp, bright pain. He nearly chokes on air, cringing into a hunched position as he feels the knife slide.
The catching drag of the old knife would have been painful, but that was mostly used for taking a finger, or maybe dragging across the back of the arm, in a more decorative than productive way of drawing blood. 
The ease with which this knife cuts sends a deep, swirling nausea straight to the pit of his stomach.
“Behold, the flow! The magic gathers, my children!” THe priest’s voice warbles a bit as “With this tool, with this magic, our god will hear our call! He will behold our devotion, and raise us to glory! He will answer-” More and more words, variations on encouragement. Zero substance, all hype. A fanatical motivation speaker, Dipper thinks, half-hysterically. 
Vapid or not, the result is effective. The sight of blood has certainly spurred everyone into a kind of frenzy, whether from fear or fervor, Dipper doesn’t care.
And they’re certainly getting a lot of blood. More than required.
Dipper struggles up against the hold, but it’s pointless. He ‘s stuck there for a few long minutes, oozing out for an audience that can’t even see half the damn thing, and it hurts. 
The red trail gathers, slowly pooling down and into the engraven triangle. Enough to fill the shallow channels easily, which, uh. Dipper’s never seen before. With the other sacrifices it kind of stopped and clotted, but this moves like it’s being wicked along the surface.
He makes a face as  his blood slowly travels through the lines, but can’t see any surface changes, or feel anything that might have been put on the stone.  
Until it connects at the top point. Then it meets, completing the image of Bill with a strange, too-bubbly ‘blorp’. 
Okay. Weird. But that’s plenty, right? Ritual done, blood offered, and now, he should get going.
Lurching upward gets the grip to loosen up on his arms, as the guards loosen their grip a bit. They already have what they need, and hell. Dippers deserves a friggin’ break. With the immediate attention off him, he can dare a glance at his arm - 
And instantly averts his gaze to absolutely anything else. 
The priest turns around, arms raised. Pumping them  in the air, knife glinting in the candlelight. “Yes. Yes!” He swings the blade around, nearly catching one of the big brothers in the side. “See how easily the liquid flows. The power builds! I can feel it - the summoning, in this room tonight!”
The crowd calls out their enthusiasm, a high rising ‘oooh’ noise. 
Dipper sighs, and tries to scoot back away from the altar. It’s done, at least; he’ll just have to cope with the aftermath. Could be worse.
“The other arm, brothers!” A loud, clarion call. Dipper whips his head around,  as the priest lowers his arms - and turns back around. Pointing at Dipper. Again. “I feel the blade crave more!” 
Uh, hello? What?
Dipper glances up at the knife. At how the slight sheen of blood has dipped into some of the runes, the faint glow -  and goes ‘huh’. 
Alright, he’ll admit. It’s definitely magical. 
But he’s beginning to suspect it has less to do with Bill, and a lot more to do with other forces. Ones that might, say, make a ritual flow smoothly. Or make a fanatical asshole even more bloodthirsty.
Behind him, he almost feels the guards shrug, right before he gets shoved against the altar again. One of the assholes even dares to pat his side, in a brief bit of unexpected sympathy. Not that it means anything. 
Dipper longs to curse them out, to scream at every single one of these absolute jackasses. Every one of them is just watching this happen. Nobody thinks about what happens next, ever, including - 
He grits his teeth instead, hard enough that he thinks something might crack.
Everyone follows orders. The words of their supposed ‘god’, filtered through a man who’s fallible and frail and frankly fucking stupid.  Always getting stupid magical trinkets. Always trying to find a link to that demonic god, constantly pursuing magic, and power, and influence. No matter the cost.
Why would he care if one of the too-few worshipers pays the price?
And fuck that.
Before, Dipper struggled as much as he could. Partly from fear, sure. But mostly to make a point. That this was stupid and painful, and wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Knowing that with enough kicking and protest, he might get them to cut things short.
Now, seeing the priest whip the blade back around, raising overhead with both hands - he fights.
A solid kick lands in the left guard’s groin, and he gets his wounded arm back. Dipper clutches it to his chest, but the other’s still pinned and being twisted, now. Another kick gets something softer, and he hears a huff from the priest. Then a loud, angry order to ‘Hold him down!’.
Dipper’s shoved into the stone, stomach digging into the edge of the altar hard enough to make him gag. His head hits the surface, more dizzying than painful. There's a hand gripped in his hair. Then his other sleeve is drawn up, his healthy arm extended over the table. Bare skin exposed, lying over the bloody surface. 
He breathes heavily, nose nearly against the altar. It quickly grows hot from his breath, and moist, too, which is probably why his face feels wet. He doesn’t hear anything but his own harsh panting. 
He never wanted to be a part of this, he never wanted to grow up like this. In a week or so, he was going to get out, and now he’s going to get hurt again, so soon, and he only has so much blood in him. He doesn’t want to die. He shuts his eyes, tucking up against himself. Hoping the weight of his body will drag his arm away where his own strength couldn’t, choking back a tightness in his throat. He was nearly out. He was nearly safe.
He was almost free. 
He breathes harder, shutting his eyes tight. He presses his forehead against the runes, and the blood, and just wishes he wasn’t here. 
Metal clangs on the floor, ringing bright as a bell. 
There’s a sudden intake of breath. Dipper feels the hands release him, a shocked sound. Then the ‘flump’ of a lot of draped fabric, all at once. 
Dipper keeps his face against the stone, breathing slower. That’s. That’s not how any ritual goes.
He can’t waste the opportunity, though. Now that his arms are free, Dipper pulls his sleeve back up, bundling it around the cut. Shit. Does he clench his fist or leave his grip loose? Which one slows blood flow. 
Whatever interrupted this isn’t going to last. He’s only got a few seconds before everyone comes back to whatever passes for their senses, and tries to ‘complete the summoning’, or whatever the hell they were after.
Gotta act. Gotta - Dipper wheels around, panting for breath. 
In front of the altar, all the robed figures in the room have fallen to their knees. The priest’s dropped the knife. Dipper scoots it a little closer to himself with a foot, watching as the zealot raises his arms in devout praise. 
Dipper pauses. Still clenching tight on his wrist, though his sleeve is starting to feel damp. Things don’t just stop like that. The ritual has to continue. People should be surging up to keep the momentum, but the entire room is -
Oh. 
Yeah, now he sees it. 
All the candles were lit before. They give a little light to a room that’s never seen electronics in its life, dim as it is. 
Right now, they’re bursting with flame, rising high enough to cast weird shadows over the cavern - 
And it’s a very bright blue. 
Shit.
Dipper whirls around, unsteady on his feet. Staring at a long, long trail of rising blood. Almost a string, or a reverse droplet, floating up from the triangle carved on the stone. In midair it spreads into a thin web, shapeless and vaguely pulsing. 
Okay. That is definitely magical. And absolutely up to no good. 
He fumbles around - where did he kick the knife? Maybe if he breaks it, it’ll interrupt this whole thing. Who knows what the hell that idiot priest did, or where he got the artifact, or what it does. 
Dipper doesn’t know much about gods, or spirits, or demons, but anything that gets pulled in by a blood sacrifice can’t be a good sign. He spots the damn thing near the opposite corner, and braces himself on the altar. It he’s careful, he can reach it without alerting anyone. Maybe.
Which is when the entire hall fills with bright, loud laughter.
“Well, well, well, well, well!” The voice rings just as brightly as the laugh. Dipper jerks towards the sound, involuntarily, only to see a single eye open inside the breath web of blood. “What do we have here?”
There’s a resounding groan from the crowd. Various people start chanting, but they’re all using different verses, and the priest starts his own, presumably improvised, wail of praise and devotion. The end result is an ear-rattling clamor. 
Dipper looks back at the altar. Watching the blood twist in this way, and that. The eye alights on him for a moment - he freezes - but it moves on from him quickly, examining the room.
There’s a lot to see, too. Maybe terrified, devout worshipers isn’t weird for a supernatural entity, but it’s thoroughly freaking Dipper out. Even the priest is on his knees.
“Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve had this kinda summon!” The net stretches, almost elastic; twisting into limblike shapes, and fractal forms. The slit-pupiled eye rolls back and forth. Then it blinks twice. “Might as well get dressed for the occasion! Hold on a sec.”
The eye shuts into nothingness. Moments later, the blood starts getting really active, pulsing faster, twisting into shapes like it’s alive.
Dipper spares a terrified check on his wrist, but. No, he’s not feeding it, or anything. This is something else. Someone else, taking the material and lending it power enough to grow. 
Even as he watches, there’s a spreading arch of bone and the twist of veins. A fairly glorpy assortment of something between and below what looks like ribs, a strange thick blackness tinged with yellow…
He cringes back, and shuts his eyes. Shit, watching this is deeply unsettling. 
Not that it’s gory, per se - that would imply that something’s being taken apart, when it shouldn’t be. This is something being put together, a way that it shouldn’t ever be.
He backs up a step from the writhing mass, getting more fleshy by the instant. Then grimaces, teetering in place. Blood loss, right. From the asshole who started this whole thing. He levels a glare at said asshole - 
But. Beside him, the priest is quivering with tension. Trembling like he didn’t expect this to happen.
Frankly? Neither did Dipper. For all the times they’ve done a ritual, there’s never been a reaction like this. 
This insane mass, forming insanely out of nothing. Or well, from blood, that spread out in a weird three-dimensional - triangle, oh shit -
He should have known. Should have noticed. This was a summon, and while the object used wasn’t for the right being, maybe that doesn't’ matter with so much gathered intent. 
This is….
Dipper falls, awkwardly, to his knees. Then ducks down in as low a bow as he can manage, pulling the hood of his robe back over his head.
Part of him thought Bill didn’t exist, or at least not in the way these guys talked about him. Maybe they’d latched onto some other spirit or deity, and completely misinterpreted everything. Maybe they’d made it all up, including some of the really old texts. There was never any evidence that their lord and master was real.  
But given what’s happening here…
Like hell is he gonna look like the only person who doesn’t. 
Something - two things - go ‘clack’ on the altar. A few series of taps. 
Then a long, pleased sigh, and the sound of soft movement, like cloth.
Dipper keeps looking down. The hood keeps him anonymous, another faceless shape in the crowd. Just one more figure genuflecting before his - 
Before a god. 
One that might not even deserve a capital letter on the word, perhaps, but still an entity that he should not, under any circumstances, piss off. 
There’s a tap that sounds like a shoe, and a low hum. Something lands beside him with a thud. In the brief moment that he raises his head, Dipper catches sight of black loafers, and long fingers on an oddly human-looking hand. 
He quickly lowers himself more towards the floor, holding his arm tight. 
Yep, just one more super-devoted believer, same as all the others. Super not important enough to notice.
“You know, blood’s usually for blood gods!” Bill Cipher’s voice rings through the room. It’s higher than Dipper expected it to be. One of the fancy-looking black shoes kicks the knife up into the air, where it’s caught by the long fingers of that hand. “Pretty wild for you guys to pull this. With another guy’s artifact, of all things!” A chiding tut, and the knife twirls. “And pretty disrespectful, I gotta say.”
“My lord.” The priest’s voice is dry, even for a guy who already sounded half-dessicated. He rises to his knees, hands clasped together. “We meant no disrespect. We are here to serve you, master. As we always have.”
“Uh huh,” Bill says. In Dipper’s limited sight, he toys idly with the knife, pressing the tip against the finger of an opposite hand. A bead of something dark wells up, and he rubs his fingers together. 
The priest recites several lines of a chant, making a triangle with his fingers. So eager, and so totally missing the disinterest in Bill’s tone- “We have always been searching for you, our worship unending! You honor us with your presence. You shine upon us your infinite glory!”
“Sure you have,” Bill says, sounding, if anything, bored. The blade in his hand flips around between his fingers, then back again. The motion reminds Dipper of a very deadly fidget spinner. “Do tell.”
Which is when the priest surges up, nearly grabbing onto Bill’s thigh. He’s only stopped by a rapid sidestep. 
Dipper cringes back out of secondhand embarrassment. Bad move. Dumb move. ‘Devoted’ or not, Bill was bored already - and infinite beings of pure energy do not like being manhandled by mortals. 
“Let us use this connection, and the blade! Let us complete the sacrifice.” The priest continues, undeterred. Shuffling closer on his knees, he spreads his arms wide, inviting and eager. “The blood could grant you all your power, that you might grant us-”
“Pass.” Bill says dismissively. The knife flashes, and there’s a wet, solid ‘thunk’. 
Dipper catches a brief glimpse of the priest’s face - stuck in shock, pale and lined with age - just before his body falls to the floor, as limp as a ragdoll. The knife handle in his chest props him up at a weird angle, before a swift kick from a black shoe sends it tumbling down the short three steps of the dais.
Dipper cringes into a smaller ball, trying to scrunch himself into invisibility. He watches Bill pass in front of him, standing in front of the crowd. The hand rests on a hip, while the other is raised out of site. Still far, far too close.
On the one hand, Bill’s examining the congregation. Distracted, for a moment. Staying out of his attention is so, so great. 
Dipper curls up in a much, much tighter ball despite that. 
In every single one of his plans to get out of here, Bill Cipher existing wasn’t a factor. Much less his actual, physical presence. All he’d ever thought about was how this was bullshit, that the people he knew were awful - and how hopefully, nobody would notice if he left. Now the ‘god’ himself is here. Standing so near Dipper he could, if he wanted, stupidly touch the hem of his pants.
A distant, insane part of him chimes in with the stupid idea that it’s nothing to really worry about. 
Like, compared to how he’s still losing blood, for example. 
Right. Staunch first, panic later.
Dipper wraps his sleeve around his arm, as subtly as he can, teeth gritted. His first priority is to stop bleeding. No escape plan - or any plan for that matter - is going to be useful if he dies. 
The immensely powerful nightmare god is also a problem, obviously. But in this moment he’s not the immediate threat. 
“Hmmm.” Bill lets out a low, contemplative hum. It resonates in the room, with how deathly silent things have become. “Let’s see here…”
After a pause, he snaps his fingers. “Stand!” 
The entire congregation leaps to their feet. One of them stumbles and gets a swift kick in the side.
“Sit!” Bill commands. Everyone drops to the floor. A low chuckle, then, “Turn around three times and bark like a dog!”
Oh, now that won’t - 
Or maybe it will. Dipper cringes, back pressed against the altar. Don’t just comply, what the hell. Sure it’s a magical god-being, but - fuck. He watches the scene with a grimace. 
Bill, though, seems to be having a great time. He’s bouncing in place, voice bright with enthusiasm. “Do a little dance! Twist yourself until your joints snap! Hell, start a fight with the guy next to you!”
There’s havoc in the room of ritual. Robed figures practically fall all over themselves, and Dipper notes with a nauseating turn that some of them have drawn knives of their own. Chaos reigns; an entire scramble to do each possible thing, all at once. 
And Bill’s laughter rings out over everything, clapping his hands in delight.
Dipper’s trapped in this room with an insane madman, leading a horde of equally insane idiots, and he doesn’t have a way out. He hopes he’ll stay out of notice. He hopes that he’ll live through the next five minutes.
There’s no controlling the situation, but he can improve his odds.
The altar’s pretty close, and Bill’s turned away, for the moment. Dipper scoots back, inching himself towards the corner. With enough shuffling, he might be able to move behind it and get out of sight. 
“Welp,” Bill claps his hands again, this time with finality. Some of the chaos stills. “You’re all annoying, boring little vermin, but maybe you guys could improve. I noticed the blood you used to summon me was real choice stuff!” The exaggerated sound of a kiss. “Very nice.”
Dipper feels sweat building up in his robes, and tries to be very still. Basically part of the ritual scenery. Anonymous furniture, at best.  
“In fact. It was so nice.” The voice continues, at a lower tone. Almost a purr. There’s a clack of shoes on stone. “Let’s see who this little treat is!”
The god seizes Dipper’s wrist - the wounded one, sending a bolt of pain down his arm - and clamps his palm around it, incredibly tight. 
Before he knows it, Dipper’s standing again, involuntarily, staring past his hood into a bright, glowing eye.
He’s meeting his god. He’s been noticed by Bill Cipher. 
So far he’s not trembling, so. That’s one thing he has going for him. 
Bill’s eye flicks down, then up again, almost thoughtful. Any question about his power is quickly tossed aside, because holy shit; the magic is nearly palpable, thrumming into Dipper’s skin and making his heart race. 
He’s also sporting a bright, wide grin, in a face that makes Dipper do a double-take.
Like. He thought - he glances at the triangle on the back of the wall, then to the person in front of him. 
Okay, it’s said that Bill Cipher can take any form he wants, human included, but, like. What?
Thankfully, Bill doesn’t seem to notice any of the insane, stupid things Dipper is thinking. All he does is raise his hand, and with one quick motion, sweep the hood off of Dipper’s head. 
Dipper flinches back. Jaw clenched, eye shut. 
Shit, shit, shit. Special attention. All the scenarios he can think of say ‘not good’. Best case scenario, it’s because Bill wants to thank him, for... Whatever his blood did. The rest of them involve increasingly terrifying ideas about what ‘nice blood’ means, and how much of it Bill might want. All of it, say. Maybe immediately. 
Dipper can’t pull away, not with such a strong hold on his arm. Fighting is downright dumb. Trembling’s happening, despite his best efforts, and the intrusive thought bubbles up that, hey, at least there’s lots of pressure on his wound. Could be worse.
Nothing happens. For several seconds.
Eventually, Dipper peeks an eye open. 
There’s Bill Cipher, looking back at him. His eye is literally lit up, the pleased grin wide on his face. 
Dipper waits for an order, but the god doesn’t speak. He just wiggles his eyebrows. If anything, he looks oddly… expectant?
Fuck. Dipper has to do something. 
What the hell, there isn’t any doctrine for this.
Sure, he knows all of the catechism, and each chant he was taught. He’s got an encyclopedic memory of everything he was taught about this powerful interdimensional god-being, he knows every ritual back and forth. The tenets spring to mind, unbidden: Be obedient, speak his words, serve him in all ways - and most of all, don’t think. 
But Dipper can’t chant. He hasn’t been told to do anything yet. And though it’d be a death sentence, if serving involves more bleeding he’d be tempted to kick again. Hell, he literally just watched everyone else trying the other bits. They did exactly what they were supposed to, and that was ‘boring’. 
He never could stop thinking, though. 
Now, his mind is racing.
A little-known and never-preached fact about Bill Cipher is that he doesn’t, actually, like rules all that much - 
So. 
Dipper offers a hesitant, closed-mouth smile. He wiggles the fingers of his free hand, a bit awkwardly, in greeting. 
Then ducks his head again, wishing he still had a hood to cover his face.
That didn’t make it weird, right? That’s a normal, devout thing to do. Coming from a totally religious guy, who’s only slightly damp from all the sweating.
“Oh.” Bill’s voice lowers to something like a purr. He tucks a knuckle under Dipper’s chin, lifting him to meet his single eye again. An eye that’s glowing now, bright gold and  half-lidded. “Ten outta ten on the offering, guys. Very cute.” 
Which is a little weird, but probably - 
“Y’know what?” And Bill’s grin widens, bright and wild, as his thumb strokes Dipper’s chin. “I like this one.”
Uh oh.
Dipper tries sinking down into his oversized robes, but Bill just fishes around inside them until he can pull Dipper up again by his undershirt. 
“In fact,” Bill declares, sounding proud. He pulls Dipper in closer, hand still clamped painfully tight on his wounded wrist. “I’m gonna keep him.”
What?
Immediately after that declaration, Dipper’s tugged in close, thumping against his side. Bill turns to start barking orders at the congregation, a sneer in his voice and a 
Dipper can’t quite parse it. He’s still running over the words in his head. 
In the ritual room, the candles flare even higher, temperature rising to an uncomfortable degree. Dipper watches two worshipers collide with each other in their frantic obedience, and can’t even laugh about it.
‘Keep’, Bill said. 
What does that mean? Everything here is already ‘Bill’s’, in a way. But the way he said it sounded… oddly specific. 
A hopeful part of Dipper chimes in that it might just mean ‘not let him bleed out’, but he’s never been that lucky before, and there’s no reason it would start now.
With everything else going on. With the presence of a god. e. 
The cultists are bustling about; a few of them deposit things near Bill’s feet, like gifts upon the altar. Boxes, totems, more lit candles that Bill idly kicks over onto one of their robes, watching them flail at the sudden burst of fire. 
Eventually, Bill considered the task ‘done’, or close enough. He sighs, shaking his head. “About time, guys! Talk about slow. Hard to get good followers these days.”
Bill clicks his tongue in distaste, then snaps his fingers.
Dipper hears a weird ‘zmmm’ sound to his left. He notices that Bill’s suit is really soft material, and also that he probably shouldn’t be grabbing it like this. 
He doesn’t dare look at the sound. Not when Bill’s turned towards him with smug pride, like he’s pulled off a plan without a hitch. 
“Man, it's only been fifteen minutes, and I’ve had it with these losers.” Bill gives the congregation a look of disgust, then turns back to Dipper. That grin reemerges like the sunrise. “Screw these guys, am I right?”
This time, Dipper’s smile is involuntary. He quashes it fast, but not before Bill notices.
“That’s what I thought.” Bill says, with deep pleasure. He takes a step closer to the altar, pulling Dipper along with a surprising lack of force. “So! What’d’ya say we ditch this joint?”
Dipper doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know what’s been happening, either, other than it’s all been going way too fast.
But Bill Cipher is looking at him, still. Present, powerful. Eager for a response. 
Dipper just shrugs.
He wouldn’t know what to say even if he still had his tongue. 
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Bill says, eminently pleased. Pulling Dipper in closer, with an arm suddenly around his waist. “Hold on tight! It ain’t a bumpy ride, but it’s a weird one.”
Dipper follows as he walks. Partly on automatic, and partly because what the hell else is he supposed to do?
About three steps in, he realizes they’re both walking on thin air, towards and over the altar. 
He jerks his head over, blinking at the source of that ‘zmm’ sound. 
Because of course summoning am interdimensional god-being would leave a remnant. He had to come from somewhere. 
Like, say, a weird red-yellow gap in space, with nonsense things flung around in a black and bizarre starscape. Dipper catches a glimpse of something with two many limbs, and of a series of screaming mouths with no bodies, and a duck and a grandfather clock, tumbling through the air. 
It’s almost like it might be a nightmare dimension. Who could have thought.
With nothing else to cling to, his free hand clamps Bill’s shoulder, tight. 
“You’re my guest for the next while, sapling.” Bill says, squeezing him tight in return as he steps in - and drags Dipper alongside him, stalking into the portal. “Glad to have you!”
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cozylittleartblog · 1 year
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swatchvember: 90′s, rainy day, sleeping
cramming some of these prompts together to be silly <3 they spent a lot of time back then keeping some rich up-and-coming little salesman entertained, he’s one of their best customers. maybe you’ve heard of him...
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turtleblogatlast · 5 days
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[ cw: death mention / family death mention / ]
Mhmm I sure love thinking of the reality where we did get more time to really know Karai and her dynamics with the bros. Losing her hit hard in the finale, but it would’ve hit much, much harder had we known Karai longer and really saw her relationships develop with everyone.
I especially would have been interested in her dynamic with Leo, as past iterations often have the two of them clash in ideals and the like while still sharing many characteristics. Two sides of the same coin, and all that. Her specifically being the bros’ Gram-Gram also adds a whole new dynamic as well.
Imagine how interesting it would be, to have Karai start off on Leo’s side for once, showing wholly just how alike the two are at their cores and bonding as family without the worry of betrayal or animosity that other iterations suffer through, only to have Karai die anyway. Their parting hug and the desperate look of horror Leo wears later on would have hit that much harder, I feel.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#rise karai#rise leo#rottmnt karai#rottmnt leo#I think a lot about these two in particular#and how that dynamic could have flourished#the way it was depicted in the finale is so purposefully unique and painful like#that hug man#can you imagine how much more heartbreaking that would have been if we knew her longer#not that it wasn’t already sad but we just simply didn’t know her long enough to be completely attached#also imo having more episodes with her and in general would have presented something I’ve been thinking about since the finale#so like - I like to think each bro kinda immediately leans more toward certain family members#Mikey has Draxum#Donnie has April#Raph has Splinter because this is another one that would be SO GOOD and make the finale moment where Raph sees his memories hit harder#if they had an ep or two more of Splinter and Raph together bc I really do feel like Raph respects Splinter most of the four#and finally- Leo has Karai#and then he loses her#imo? this would align with the movie even more#because it was the act of heroism that kinda killed her in a way - makes sense that Leo would initially be leaning away from that#and yet he ends up exactly like her anyway#haha sorry for rambling I just really love the interesting dynamic these two tend to have#and it’s a shame we didn’t get to see it really explored in rise#but yeah make no mistake while I’m focusing on Leo here I wanted more for all the boys and karai#Mikey’s little moments with her were so sweet and we already know how much he yearns for more family#Karai being from an age long gone would mean she’d be super impressed by literally any invention Donnie has (adult validation!!)#and could you imagine her training with Raph - with this training being referenced in the finale?
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