#my social skills were + still are useless

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 9

masterpost

Having a mission changed everything. 

Tim took full advantage of his new knowledge of the holy manuals. The first rule that he took to heart was that he was meant to be armed. Of course! It made sense.

Unfortunately, he was also not meant to take any weapon onto the field that he hadn’t trained with. Tim thought hard for a while whether or not a suburban house counted as ‘in the field’, but it seemed like he should pay lip service to Batman’s rule. So he got some sharp things that seemed interesting and spent some time throwing them at a target. They kind of looked like Batarangs, but… different. 

“I don’t think bats change shape in the next ten years or so,” Tim muttered. He gave another half hearted throw. The thing dinged off the wall below his target. “So this isn’t meant to be a bat shape. Did Batman rebrand to the Birdman and no one fixed his wiki page yet? Is this a parallel universe and not my actual future?”

It occurred to him that it might be a bird because of Robin. But come on, Robins didn’t use sharp things. Robin was a child. It was irresponsible for children to use blades. 

Tim sent another thingy into the wall. It hit with the pointy end first this time and sank an inch into the wall to the right of the target. He held his breath as it wiggled for a moment. Then it went still without falling.

“Yes!” He punched the air. Thank gosh! He was getting bored with that. It was good to be done with training. It was kind of dull.

Steps one and two were finished. He had a weapon and he had trained with it. Tim went back to his list. The next technical skill set was lock picking. That was super easy and fun! Tim enjoyed the clear diagrams and explanations. There wasn’t anything to practice with, but he thought that he had the concept down handily. He grabbed a set of lockpicks for his khaki pockets. 

He needed to do a little more to understand the patterns of the target, as well as their background. Tim considered asking Jason for any information, but he probably didn’t have any. Maybe he wasn’t very good at googling. So he just did it. The Sausage Guy was more commonly known as Benedict Orange, a name that Tim really liked and mentally stored away to use as an alias when he was a superhero. 

Anyway. Tim figured out how old the guy was, where he’d gone to school, and a bunch of other stuff like the record of his marriage ten years ago. 

“Huh,” Tim said, brows furrowed. “I didn’t find a divorce record. But he’s single now?” Mr. Orange had accounts on a lot of dating sites. He was using his engagement photo for the profile photo, with his wife cut out.

That was weird. He tried to find the wife, but there wasn’t anything more recent than 8 years ago, when she’d announced that she was quitting her job on social media. 

…Tim had kind of a bad feeling about that. 

He put a pin in it for now, but he had a small theory at the back of his mind that started with ‘I think this guy killed his wife.’

Maybe that was how the human sausage thing started. Maybe he’d killed her on impulse and then needed a way to get rid of the body. And then maybe he’d gotten a taste for it.

Tim shuddered. Okay, okay, he was for real done thinking about this! Big yucky.

Benny Orange was an office worker with a title that Tim didn’t really understand. It seemed vague to the point of uselessness, but then again, that was office work. The relevant thing was that he got home around 6 pm, and he left at 8 am.

It was 10 in the morning. Tim could get over there and toss Benny’s home before the end of the workweek if he hurried. The manual said that you should never spend more than an hour investigating an unsecured location. It also said that you should file a report or directly inform someone of where you’d be. 

That part made Tim pause for a moment before he remembered that he’d told Jason. Jason would probably check on him when he woke up, or whatever.

Tim found an equipment belt that he could wrap around his waist twice to buckle on. He put his sharp things in it. Then he untucked his shirt, because he had tucked it in out of habit and that would make it harder to access his weapons. He frowned as he did it. It just felt wrong.

He put on his shoes and got out the door. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste if he wanted to be able to take his time, so Tim hailed a taxi to cross most of the distance this time. He was grateful that Mrs. Henderson was gone and there was no chance of seeing her. Last time had been a little bit of a disaster. Needing civilian help to get into the building was not a winning move.

He had bat-approved lockpicks this time. He went to the front door and did his best. 

It turned out that maybe he should have practiced? Tim started to sweat out in the open. It felt like someone was staring at his back. He looked at the houses around. No one was at their windows or walking outside. He started jumping whenever the tall herbs in Mr. Orange's garden swayed in the breeze. He had a lot of plants.

His hands were shaking. The sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He was going to get caught and in so much trouble.

When the door finally opened, Tim offered up a thanks to Bast, because he assumed the cat goddess was more likely to be pro-breaking and entering than other gods. That logic was just based off of what he knew about Catwoman, honestly. 

The first glimpse into Benedict Orange's home was disappointingly normal. He had vinyl flooring (easy to clean!), leather furniture, and a big flat TV high up on the wall. He didn’t have enough knickknacks and there was no art. There was a wood and glass case that was full of identical, unlabeled bottles with something red in it. Hot sauce? Was he a hot sauce guy?

Tim mentally reclassified Mr. Orange further down the list of ‘people I could talk to at a cocktail party.’

The place had the same layout as Mrs. Henderson’s place, just in reverse. Tim beelined to the kitchen because.. Well.

He just did.

The counter space where Mrs. Henderson had a hot water kettle, a big stand mixer, and a toaster was mostly clear here. Mr. Orange only had one piece of cooking machinery. Tim didn’t know it. He squinted at it. It was a big shiny stainless steel thing. It had a metal tray, a wheel, and like… a nozzle. When he climbed on a chair to look down, he could see there was a little tunnel tube thing where you could put stuff inside the body of the machine.

Weird. Moving on!

He checked inside the fridge. He stared for a moment of aghast silence. There was a stack of takeout containers, a bunch of seasonings in the door, and a stack of tupperware with something red in them. 

Cautiously, Tim dug one out and opened it.

“That’s raw meat,” he said, voice high. He put the box back in and then hesitated. Maybe he should be like, taking it? Or taking a sample? To see what animal it came from?

“I’ll think about it.” Tim shut the fridge a little harder than he needed to and beat feet out of the kitchen. He started checking the other rooms. He found the master bedroom. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t think he’s restyled this since Brenda died,” Tim complained. He looked at the curtains with extreme judgment. They were so outdated it wasn’t even funny, but they also weren’t retro yet!

Oh. Wait. Belatedly, Tim remembered that it was ten years into his future. So, maybe they were retro now. Anyways, Brenda had liked the trend for chickens and roosters. There were chickens and roosters everywhere in the decor, including a cute print of what was obviously intended to be a husband and wife pair snuggling on a sofa.

His heart hurt a little. He looked at it a little too long. 

Tim took a deep breath. Then he went back to looking for evidence. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, so clearly Mr. Orange had a personal office elsewhere. There were two more rooms in the apartment.

Tim opened the next door. The room was mostly a guest bedroom, with the notable exception of a huge chest freezer and a weird long wooden bar across the room.

Tim shut the door.

The last room was the office. There was a desk, a file cabinet, and a lockbox full of women’s drivers licenses.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said under his breath. “He’s a serial killer.” He took photos and sent them to Jason immediately with the subject line “Yeah he’s a killer!!!”

Then he got down to sorting through the papers to see if there was anything else. Jason was a Robin, Tim supposed, so he’d need the evidence to show the police. It would be helpful if he just went and sorted it out now. He found warranties for the TV, the new freezer, and he presumed that ‘Meat Grinder’ meant the thing in the kitchen.

“I appreciate that he’s so organized, actually,” Tim muttered. He was hunched over digging through the bottom drawer now.

A key went into a door. 

Tim froze stock still. He slowly, silently shut the drawer. He stared at the closed door to the living room. On the other side of it, Mr. Orange unlocked and opened the front door. Tim slowly looked up, saw 12:14 on the clock, and vaguely registered that sometimes people come home on their lunch breaks.

The front door shut. There was a quiet metal sound that Tim thought was probably the chain lock. The chain lock that was too high for him to move without a chair to stand on.

Okay. Uh. He looked around for a place to hide. The best option was under the desk. Tim crawled through the legs of the chair, heart beating furiously.

He weighed his options. Wait it out and hope Mr. Orange didn’t come in?

…Seemed risky. But there was no way he was going to run out past the guy to the front door. At least, the odds that he’d get grabbed were just not good, not when he didn’t know where Mr. Orange was. 

Alright. Tim knew reality. He might not be able to get out of this on his own. At the very least, he should let Jason know what was going on so that they could add his murder to the list of charges. And maybe Jason was close by to help? Wayne Manor was awfully far away, so probably not. But it didn’t hurt to try.

He got his phone back out and was silently very glad that he had it. Jason had responded to his message. Tim didn’t take the time to read it, instead typing up a blank email with the subject line “um might need help asap :( he here”. He sent it. Then he huddled down to wait.

Noises came from the kitchen- the suction as the fridge opened. The beep of the microwave. A man’s voice saying, “What the fuck? Did I leave this here?”

His blood turned ice cold.

‘What did I do?’ Tim desperately tried to remember what he’d touched in the kitchen. Had he really moved something around? He didn’t remember anything! His heart rate went up like crazy.

The door opened. Tim flinched. His whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Oh. No. It wasn’t this door yet. It was the door to the next room, the spare bedroom. He heard the weird squelch of the chest freezer opening. Then the closet door squeaked open. Something heavy moved around. 

“Well, it wasn’t you,” said Mr. Orange. There was a mean satisfaction in his tone. The heavy thing moved again.

Tim’s brain went a bit blank.

Who was he talking to? Was there someone in the apartment? Hidden behind something heavy?

He opened up another email. Jason hadn’t responded, so there was no way to know if he’d seen. Tim hastily typed up, “I think there’s a living hostage in the house” and sent it as the door to the office opened.

He hugged his arms around his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh gosh. Oh heck. Oh no, oh no. He bit his lower lip and broke skin.

‘No. I can’t be a baby about this.’ 

It was really hard with how stiff his fingers felt. But Tim put the phone in his pocket and wrestled the sharp bird weapon out. He held it clumsily. And he watched Mr. Orange’s feet move around the room. They walked around the room. He saw the curtains move as Mr. Orange pulled them to check no one was hiding there. Then he knew that Mr. Orange was coming to his hiding spot.

Tim swallowed. He waited until Mr. Orange’s feet were in sight. He stabbed his sharp thing down through the top of Mr. Orange’s sock.

Mr. Orange bellowed and fell back against his filing cabinet. 

Tim scrambled out and ran.

He went towards the front door on automatic and nearly got there before he looked up and saw that yes, the chain lock was on. He couldn’t reach it. 

“You little shit!” Mr. Orange bellowed. He lunged at Tim. Tim barely dodged. He jabbed at him again without looking and barreled towards the door to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment. It only had a doorknob lock. He unlatched it, praying that she had not changed her ideas about the open door policy. The door handle turned.

He threw himself into the room and slammed the door shut. He clicked the little button lock.

Mr. Orange hit the door, hard. It shook. He wasn’t saying anything anymore. There was something about that which struck Tim as absolutely terrifying. Didn’t people bellow and yell when they were mad? 

He looked towards Mrs. Henderson’s door. The door shook again as Mr. Orange hit it.

Wood splintered.

If he went out Mrs. Henderson’s front door he could sprint for it. What were the odds he could outrun a grown man? If he did, wouldn’t Mr. Orange just get in his car? Potential witnesses had made Mr. Orange back off before, but he was more invested now in silencing Tim. And there was no one around. Tim had checked. 

The door splintered again. He could see Mr. Orange’s shoulder. Then a socked foot.

‘I don’t think I stabbed his foot well enough,’ some distant part of Tim’s brain catalogued. ‘He’s still moving on it. If I live past this, I’m going to commit to the next stabbing with more enthusiasm.’

He bolted for the stand where Mrs. Henderson kept her mace. He was just out of sight from Mr. Orange’s hole in the door. His heart thudded so loud. His shaking had stopped. The mace didn’t  feel heavy. 

‘If I was taller, i’d aim for the face. I can’t pull that off. I’ll aim for center mass. He may block with an arm, but theoretically his arm will be hurt enough that I’ll be able to pull back and make another swing.’

There was a catastrophic smash from inside Mr. Orange’s apartment. 

Then a “What the fuck-” that got cut off a little early. Mr. Orange sounded mad and confused. 

A thud. Two smaller thuds. A clicking. Tim wanted so badly to know what was going on. 

A hand reached through the hole in the door and unlatched the lock. 

Tim swallowed. He readied a swing. 

The door opened.

Tim took a step forward and swung Mrs. Henderson’s antique mace with maximum strength directly into the armored center mass of a guy who was NOT Mr. Orange.

“Oh my gosh,” Tim said, horrified, at the instant he connected. The guy was looking forward. He looked down too late, just as the mace hit.

There was sort of a bounce. The mace bounced back off the tummy armor without digging in or drawing blood. Half of Tim was relieved, and half was terrified that his plan had failed. 

The guy doubled over and made a sound that was a lot like GURK. He clutched at his torso with one arm and pointed a gun at Tim with the other.

Tim put his hands up.

The guy looked at Tim. Presumably. It was hard to tell through his ugly red motorcycle helmet.

“I really should have known.” 

His mechanical voice was scary.

Bad guy! 

Tim took his chances and another swing before the guy could shoot him. He expected to hear a shot as he smashed his mace again. The guy yelped and jerked backwards to avoid getting hit. Then there was a thud.

Tim peered through the door cautiously. The guy had tripped over Mr. Orange. Mr. Orange was laying on the floor facedown, arms zip tied behind his back. 

“Oh, sorry,” Tim apologized. He took a couple steps over to put the mace back away. He gave Mr. Orange a wide berth.

“I never would have guessed that the Red Hood used kids like this,” Mr. Orange said meanly. He narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Small, even for bait.”

The Red Hood guy pointed his gun at Mr. Orange’s head. Tim shrieked.

The Red guy stopped. He seemed to look at Tim again. He had some really bad words. “Alright.” He got back up to his feet and put the gun away.

Right. He’d probably just been joking or something. Tim belatedly registered the control it must have taken to not accidentally shoot while being attacked and falling over. 

Oh. Wait. It was a huge coincidence that a hero came right now, unless-

‘Is this Jason?’ Tim felt his eyebrows go all the way up. He wanted to ask a million questions. His mouth was firmly glued shut, though. Partly it was infosec. But it was also embarrassment.

[ckret2]

Chapter 17 of Human Bill Causes Problems And Ruins Relationships On Purpose (title TBD), featuring: Mabel and Ford, not letting their relationship be ruined.

They're gonna be okay.

Also: weird donuts, cool crystals, and summer class.

####

Mabel was out of sight by the time Ford exited the shop—stupid, why hadn't he chased her the second he saw her run? He knew Mabel was fast. He circled the block calling her name—there was nowhere she could have gone, this mixed-use building was surrounded by residential houses—and then he hurried back to the parking garage, worst case scenarios tumbling through his head.

When he spied her leaning against the trunk of Stan's car, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Mabel! You shouldn't run off like that in a strange city. Anything could have happened."

Mabel tightened her crossed arms, glaring at her shoes. "I'm better at taking care of myself than you think."

Ford's shoulders slumped. He stood there useless, the silence thick between them, grappling for something to say to cut through it.

He never did well with these thick, awkward, choking moments—the moment before Stan left home, the moment after Fiddleford left the portal project, all the moments on the phone with his parents or with Shermie when he couldn't think of anything they'd be truly interested to hear about his life or any questions he truly wanted them to answer. He'd lost a lot of relationships in those moments. "Mabel—you're not in trouble, and I'm... I'm not mad at you."

"Being disappointed isn't better."

"I'm not disappointed, either. Just... concerned."

Wrong word. Mabel looked up at Ford with a dark, furious look that reminded him unnervingly of a look Bill had given him a few days ago. (He still hadn't learned to identify this as the hallmark gaze of the defiant teenager.) Then she glared at the ground again. "I wanna go home."

If he took her home, it would be an agonizing hour and a half silence—and what were the odds she'd just run to Bill and tell him he'd been "right," and he'd fill her head with more poison? It was far too late to forbid her from talking to him without exacerbating the situation. Ford could force her to stay right here in Portland until he'd talked to her—he had the keys, the driver's license, and almost fifty years' seniority—but if he did that, she'd tune out anything he said.

And she'd be right to. Who was he to her except the other uncle, the one who'd spent a year lavishing attention on her brother and only asked to spend time with her as a trap to give her a lecture?

He leaned on the car trunk next to her and looked down at the top of Mabel's head. She was wearing a headband studded with rhinestones and plastic ruby earrings. She'd dressed up for this. Ford swallowed hard. "Mabel, I'm an idiot."

She didn't say anything.

"I am. I'm a fool. I put all my skill points in intelligence and zero in charisma." He paused. "Which... that sentence probably makes self-evident." He cleared his throat. "I started out bad at socializing, and not interacting with humans for thirty years didn't make me any better. So I don't have any idea what I'm doing here. But... I asked you to come here with me because I really do want to spend more time with you; and because Bill hurt me, and I love you too much not to make sure you're protected against him doing the same to you."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn't tense up or pull away, he went on: "I think I tried to do too much in one trip, and it just made what should have been a fun time... awkward for you. But, if it helps, it's awkward for me, too. We can be awkward together. We're on the same side, I promise."

Mabel let out a loud, snotty sniff. "You... really do wanna hang out with me?" Quieter, she asked, "Not just Dipper?"

"Of course I do!" Ford said. "But I don't blame you for doubting me. I... know I've spent less time with you than with Dipper. I thought he needed me more. I'm sorry it took this to make me make time for you like I should have all along."

"Was... was there ever really a crystal store on the highway?"

"There was! I promise! I honestly don't know what happened to it! Maybe when I was coming from the airport Soos took a different exit than I thought? Or maybe a truck got between us and the sign as we were passing it and we didn't realize, but—"

He was getting off topic. The mystery of the crystal store wasn't what was important here. Reel in the puzzled scientist for a moment and be an uncle. "But—I swear Mabel, I didn't make up a story just to get you out here. I truly wanted to go to a crystal shop with you, hand on my heart." He put his hand on his heart. "That's a full finger more sincere than normal."

Mabel let out a choked giggle. She finally looked up at Ford, eyes red, cheeks tear streaked, but fighting to smile through her tears. "Grunkle Ford, I—" She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his sweater. "I'm not trying to ruin summer again, I promise! All I'm talking to Bill about is preschool cartoons and arts & crafts! Sure, he's—he's been nice since I helped him out, but—that doesn't mean I've forgotten who he is or what he can do..."

"Mabel, you didn't ruin last summer." Ford knelt down and hugged her back. "Bill did. Never forget that. I'm just trying to prevent him from doing it again."

Mabel nodded, unconvinced. "He couldn't have ruined it by himself."

"You're right. He couldn't. Which is why I was so wrong to keep the rift secret from everyone in the house but Dipper. I was trying to keep you safe, but you never would have fallen for his lies if I'd armed you with all the information you needed."

He leaned back from Mabel and patted his briefcase. "That's why I'm doing things properly this time! I'm prepared to educate you on every trick Bill has ever borrowed from the books of con artists, cult leaders, and serial manipulators. If you're going to talk to him, you'll know the rules of every mind game he plays before he starts playing them." He unzipped his briefcase and pulled out some of the research materials he'd assembled to prepare for this conversation. "I'm afraid even that might not be enough to fully protect you against his devious tricks, but if you keep your guard up and regularly check in with the rest of the family, then—"

Mabel looked in Ford's briefcase and exploded in a peal of laughter. "Grunkle Ford, are you making me go to school in the summer?! Gross!"

Ford blinked. If this was Dipper, he'd have been delighted at the educational opportunity. This just went to show how much he still needed to learn about Mabel, too. "Come now, Mabel. There's no greater defense against the shadowy forces of deception than the light of knowledge!"

Mabel laughed again. "You nerd!"

Ford grinned. "But, I'll try to make it fun, too."

"Okay, I'll take your psychology class. Bill-proof me! Arm me with knowledge!" She raised her arms like she was flexing her biceps.

"Great!" Ford rummaged through his briefcase. "I'll start with the broad strategies I've seen or heard of him using to isolate his victims, then narrow in on specific tactics he uses to steer conversations his way. First we'll go over the B.I.T.E. model of authoritarian control, and—"

Mabel put a hand on his shoulder. "How about we start with lunch?"

Ford paused, then let out a huff. "Yes, of course. We should eat."

They got in the car and went looking for a restaurant.

####

They had lunch at a burger place, and Ford told Mabel everything he could think of about how Bill operated—all guided by copious research notes.

To his relief, Mabel never got bored. Instead, she immediately related his lesson back to things she'd already seen Bill do: how easily he'd gotten her, Dipper, and Soos to do his job for him inside Stan's mind, or how he'd tried to turn Mabel and Dipper against each other during Mabel's puppet show. When she admitted what Bill had said to make her worry about talking to Ford, he confessed how Bill had turned him against Fiddleford—and how he'd done it with just a couple comments. All he'd had to say was that Fiddleford might not be committed enough to the portal project, might not be bold enough to finish, and Ford's mind had done the rest.

Ford hadn't even told Dipper about that part—instead, he'd just let Dipper read it in his journal. Ford had yet to so much as talk to Fiddleford himself about it. It was shameful to admit out loud; but less so when he knew he was talking to someone else who'd very nearly been fooled the same way—and that sharing his story might save her from repeating it.

They wrapped up lunch, moved to a nearby shop called Druid Donuts for dessert, and continued their conversation on one of the picnic tables outside. Mabel got a donut wizard with a pretzel stick wand and purple cream filling, and Ford tried out a donut with jelly beans on top. The jelly beans were kinda stale. He plucked them off and ate them anyway.

Mabel sighed, "Grunkle Ford, I'm so sorry I let Bill make me doubt you."

"Bill has that effect on people. When I had this same talk with Dipper, he tried to shoot me with the memory gun in case Bill was possessing me."

"Dipper never mentioned that!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out as she remembered who had ultimately gotten memory gunned over Bill.

She gazed thoughtfully down at her wizard. (She'd eaten off one of his arms, half his robe, and licked out the purple cream filling.) "What made Bill so awful?"

"I sorely wish I knew," Ford said. "I spent half my life trying to find out where he came from, along with how to defeat him. All I ever learned is that he's from a two-dimensional realm—and he destroyed his dimension, friends and family included, for power."

Mabel's eyes widened.

"But... why? I still don't know. He told me he found his home 'restrictive'—but I imagine any limitations would feel restrictive to someone who's seeking omnipotence, so I have no idea what that truly means." Ford looked down at his donut. He'd plucked off all the jelly beans and sorted them into two piles on a napkin, one of regular beans and a smaller one with a few deformed ones. He popped a couple of beans in his mouth. 

"It's weird," Mabel said. "It's like... I'm trying to hate him, but it's hard. It was easy last year! And I know who he is, and I know that all this"—she pointed at Ford's bag full of notes—"is going on in his head, but—when I talk to him, he just seems like... not a different person, but a—a normal person. I don't want to not give that person a chance just because he's Bill. You know? Does that make sense?" Mabel grimaced. "Or is that just how good he is at acting?"

Softly, Ford said, "I think it does make sense. Actually, even after everything he's done to me... since he's been locked up with us, I've—had a moment or two like that. I don't think he's doing it on purpose. I think it's a natural side effect of being in such close proximity to him."

Ford had been thinking a lot about his bizarre burst of compassion on the night Bill burned off his hair. He'd wondered if, maybe, putting a human face over Bill had made Ford see him as a new person. But that wasn't right. Like Mabel had said: Ford didn't see this human Bill as a different person, but rather...

Ford had obsessed over Bill for thirty years. He'd combed the multiverse for information about Bill's history, his state of existence, his potential weaknesses. But in all that time—in all that time, he hadn't once spoken with Bill.

He'd spent half a lifetime moving amongst people who saw Bill as a symbol, a legend, a cosmic force. He'd come to see Bill the same way. A threat, a target, an idea. He'd spent so many years picking a scant few hours of conversation with Bill to shreds that—he was now beginning to realize—he'd half convinced himself that Bill didn't actually have an identity beneath his lies.

It wasn't that seeing a human face made Ford forget that this person was Bill. It was that seeing a human face made Ford remember that Bill was a person. Ford had gotten so used to hating Bill the symbol; had he ever learned how to hate Bill the person? Or had he just let himself believe Bill wasn't a person at all?

Treating Bill like an idea rather than a person was useful enough when Bill was some distant foe. But now Bill was here. Ford couldn't let himself go soft just because Bill was capable of filling space in a window seat and tripping on the furniture and waking screaming from nightmares and regretting a stupid haircut.

Bill had been a person every other time Ford had tried to kill him, too. And that didn't change the fact that he needed to die.

And Mabel—who had so much less practice with hatred than Ford had—was struggling with the same thing.

"You want him to make sense," Ford said. "I understand that completely. Once we see somebody as a person, it's hard to see them as a monster, even if that's what they are. Our minds think monsters want to destroy the world, not play weird chess games. Seeing him as just a monster would be safer for everyone—but, as long as he's imprisoned and powerless, all he can do is be a person."

Mabel thought that over. "Yeah," she said. "You can hate somebody or you can get to know them, but you can't do both."

Ford could think of a few people he'd only hated more the better he got to know them, but he supposed Mabel was kinder than him. "More or less."

"How do you deal with it?"

"By avoiding him."

Mabel's gaze dropped back to her donut wizard. She ate his wand and other arm.

Ford took a deep breath. "Mabel... knowing everything you know now, do you still want to keep talking to him?"

Her neck sank down into her turtleneck. "Do I fail your class if I say yeah?"

Ford smiled sadly. Was she too kind for her own good, or—like Ford—too curious? "I thought you might say that," he said. "Follow-up question: are you prepared to be disappointed when he doesn't live up to your hopes? And I do mean 'when,' not 'if.' You're offering him a charity I don't think he's capable of reciprocating."

If she'd gotten angry, if she'd gotten defensive, he would have worried more. But she laughed and said, "Grunkle Ford, last summer I got my heart broken by like, sixteen boys. After that, I can handle finding out the evil demon triangle I'm trying to reform is still an evil demon. I'll be impressed if he ever gets an opportunity to kill one of us and doesn't take it."

Ford chuckled, relieved. "I think you deserve to hang out with people you can hold to higher standards than that."

"I do! But the other people I hang out with don't wanna watch the same shows as me. I don't think I can make you understand how important that is."

On the one hand, that struck Ford as a very thirteen-year-old priority. On the other hand... He winced. "Actually... for a while, he was the only person that would play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with me."

"WHAT! What kind of character did he play!"

"None. He always wanted to be the dungeon master," Ford said. "He ran very strange campaigns. And had a weird fascination with princesses with eyeballs for heads. And, in retrospect, it was probably a red flag when he decided to portray the God of Long Odds as a one-eyed golden triangle."

Mabel at least had the good grace to bite her lip instead of laughing at Ford.

"Well. I don't think you should want to talk to him. But, if you do... then you have a rare opportunity. Perhaps the first in multiversal history. Bill's our captive, he seems to trust you, he's motivated to make you trust him... I think if anyone's ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Perhaps you'll get your question answered."

"Grunkle Ford..." Mabel grinned slyly. "Are you saying that you want me to talk to him? Like, as a spy?"

Ford grimaced. "If I said that, that would make me a terrible uncle. I should be doing everything in my power to steer you away from him. I know that would be safer for everyone and healthier for you." He paused. "But. I can't control you. And as long as you've decided to talk to him anyway—I want to know everything you learn."

Mabel laughed. "You got it!"

"Final advice: don't trust anything he says, assume everything he does has an ulterior motive, and never agree to do anything he asks without twenty-four hours away from him to consider it. And keep talking to us—to me, to Dipper, to Stanley. He might fool one of us, but he can't fool all of us."

"Yeah!" Mabel raised a hand. "Pines power!"

"Pines power." Ford high-sixed her, then finished up his donut. "Well, I think this was very educational for both of us." He stood. "You've still got your $50. Want to go back to the crystal shop?"

####

They grabbed a big green box of donuts for the family and headed back to Lunar Blessings. While Mabel was agonizing over several fun-colored crystals, Ford wandered back toward the statue of Bill. He had to do something about this. "Excuse me." He waved down the shopkeeper. "Do you happen to know where this sculpture came from? The name of the artist, or...?"

She came over to study it. "I think we get all of these from a studio in the Bahamas, but I don't remember the artist off the top of my head. Why?"

He tried to think of a lie that sounded more realistic than the truth—maybe if he said he thought he recognized the art style and wanted to know if an old friend had made it, she'd be willing to dig up the artist's name?

He decided to go with a story that might get this thing off the shelf faster. "Because that particular depiction of the Eye of Providence is associated with a dangerous cult."

Her brows went up. "You're sure? It's a common symbol."

"Giving it eyelashes and a bow tie isn't. Trust me: either the artist is a cultist, or they got the design from somebody who is."

"Cult's a... pretty loaded word." (Ford grudgingly respected her for her wariness. She probably dealt with somebody calling something-or-other in this shop "cultish" on a daily basis.) "How do you know they're that bad?"

"Because once I got in, it took me thirty years to get out."

The shopkeeper's demeanor changed immediately. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. We get these in bulk with a lot of other sculptures, I thought it was just some obscure... Are these people dangerous, or—?"

"Not as much as they used to be, I don't think. Their founder's incarcerated. But... the kind of people who'd be eager to buy this probably aren't the people you want to sell to."

As she eyed the sculpture skeptically—probably deciding whether she found this stranger's story credible enough to warrant taking merch off her shelves—Ford asked, "Do you think you could find the artist? With the founder gone, I... I've been wondering how his other victims are faring." There wasn't much point in pushing further to remove the item. He'd given the shopkeeper enough to think about, and he doubted one more statue on one more shelf would really do any harm while Bill couldn't use its eye.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I'll check our records. If we don't have it, you can give me your contact info and I'll let you know when I find out."

"Thank you." What would Ford say if he did meet another of Bill's victims? He'd known a few, very distantly, thirty years ago; Bill had told him who he could go to to get art, much like the sculpture in this store. Back then, he'd felt like he was in a secret society—a real secret society with real secrets, not like the corny social club styling itself a "secret society" he'd joined in college—with the double secret that none of the other members knew that Ford was the society president's favorite. In retrospect, they'd probably thought they were Bill's favorites, too.

He supposed he'd find out if he ever met the artist.

####

Mabel found a little pink cat figurine, a string of small nazar eye beads she thought would be great for crafts, an extremely small crystal naturally colored like a watermelon slice, and a bracelet made out of tiny colorful rock chips arranged in a rainbow. The shopkeeper wasn't able to find the artist's name before they left; but Ford left his name, address, and the shack's number on a piece of receipt paper so she could contact him if she found out more.

As they were leaving, Ford said to Mabel, "You know... if you still like those glass pyramids, I think there's a couple in my study that escaped the purge. You could have one."

"Really? You're sure? You don't have to..."

"I'm sure. They're not magical or dangerous—and I think I'd like for one of them to get new, better associations. Just, keep it in a room where Bill can't get his hands on it," Ford said. "But if he does see it... make up a story about it that will drive him crazy."

Mabel considered that. And then a wicked smile twisted up her face.

####

"Okay, your turn," Mabel said. She was slouched down in her seat with her feet up on the car's dashboard. "Befriend, betray, or betroth: Carl Sagan, the Queen of England, and... a wizard."

Ford sucked in a breath. "Ooh, that's tough." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Describe the wizard."

"Greatest wizard of all time! And his beard is like, ten feet long."

Ford pursed his lips as he thought. "Marry the wizard," he said. "As much as I admire Carl's mind, he freely shares his knowledge with the public. Wizards are far more reclusive. Marriage may be my only way to learn his secrets."

"The queen isn't even on the table?"

"I've been a king before, Mabel. Too many social obligations for me," Ford said. "I suppose I'll have to befriend the queen. I can't afford to make any more powerful enemies. Anyway, it could give me an opportunity to ask about some of the legends surrounding Buckingham Palace."

"So you'd betray...?"

Ford frowned deeply. "This game is vicious."

Mabel laughed. "I won't tell him!"

"I appreciate it," Ford said. "All right, your turn. Befriend, betray, or betroth: a president, a movie star, and an astronaut."

Mabel paused. Mabel thought about the guy on the $10 bill—who, she was sure, was definitely a president, or else they wouldn't have put him on a bill. Mabel said, "Which president?"

He'd meant the concept of a president, but. "Uh..."

Mabel gasped and sat up straight. "Grunkle Ford, look!" She pointed out the driver's side window.

"Wh—?" Ford gaped as they drove past a tall pole topped with a gray sign. The sign read, "OCCULTED CRYSTALS". Beneath the words was a glass window shaped like a cut diamond.

"Is that—?"

"That's it!" Ford swerved into the exit lane. "You're not getting away this time, you sonofagun!"

"I've still got like two dollars! Let's do this!"

They celebrated and congratulated each other as they descended onto the frontage road and made a U-turn under the highway.

On the other side, there was no trace of the sign. All they found was a strip of five nondescript whitewashed storefronts, all out of business, with a narrow weed-filled parking lot in front.

Mabel and Ford exchanged a baffled look.

Ford pulled into the empty parking lot and stepped out of the car. "It was here, wasn't it?" he asked. "It can't have been farther back than this." He squinted to the west, shielding his eyes with his hand. No signs that way, and no trees or buildings tall enough to be hiding one.

"Maybe it's a time travel thing!" Mabel jumped out of the car and ran to the abandoned stores, peering through the windows one at a time to see if any looked like a former crystal shop.

Ford glanced warily at a concrete block along the edge of the parking lot that looked like it might once have supported a pole. "Hmm."

Eventually, when they couldn't find anything, they slunk back into the car, got on the frontage road, took the next U-turn, and got back on the highway.

The diamond-windowed Occulted Crystals sign taunted them from the horizon.

They stared dumbly at it.

Mabel pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

"What are you?" Ford asked the sign. "Is it invisible on its other side?"

Mabel turned in her seat and peered through the back window as they passed it. "Still visible!"

"Then can it only be seen if you're traveling east on the highway?" Ford mused. "But you'd have to be westbound to take an exit that reaches that location. It's impossible to access."

"What if you're traveling west but you drive the car backwards!"

Ford mulled over that. "For starters, we'd probably get pulled over." Ford glanced down at the car's clock. "It's getting late, too. We can't procrastinate anymore if we want to be home in time for dinner."

The sign had disappeared behind them. Mabel turned back around and settled in her seat. "I think this calls for a follow-up investigation later, don't you?"

Ford grinned. "I had the exact same thought."

####

"... And that's how we realized it wasn't Louisa who had slashed Sarah's tires," Abuelita said, "it was Arthur! Can you believe it? Arthur!" She turned away from the stove to look at Bill, eyebrows raised, making sure he fully appreciated this twist.

Sitting backwards on one of the kitchen chairs, he shrugged. "I can't blame him. Every man has his limit. And Sarah's been pushing his for weeks." He took a swig from a bottle of spoiled grape juice.

"Stop drinking my cooking wine," Abuelita said. "Sure, but Arthur's so passive! I thought he'd have a nervous breakdown long before he ever took action! Anyway, things just haven't been the same since he got arrested."

Bill shook his head sympathetically. "I tell you. This town's bingo hall is really going to the dogs."

The front door swung open, and Mabel's voice drifted in: "Betroth the vampire, of course. And—is it possible to betray a zombie? Do they understand loyalty? When Soos got turned..."

Bill perked up, set the juice bottle on the kitchen table, and got to his feet, immediately drawn to a more rewarding distraction. "I'll get out of your hair," he told Abuelita, and switched to English. "Hey, Shooting Star and Sixer!" He leaned against the kitchen doorway. "How were the crystals?"

"Great! I got a watermelon rock and a cat and some beads and the coolest bracelet!" She raised her hand and twisted it back and forth, making the rock chips click together. "And donuts!" She shoved a big green open box in Bill's face. "You're allowed to take one. Only one."

He grabbed the yellowest one he saw and bit in. "Huh. Piña colada. Weird." He took another bite and leaned around the open box lid to look at Mabel. "So. Did you two have fun?"

"Yes! It was a blast!" Mabel gushed. "We got lunch in Portland, and we talked foreverrr, and we've got more in common than I ever imagined, and we're gonna make more trips to Portland soon! I think it really brought us closer together."

"Huh." Bill's gaze flicked up to Ford. "How about that." Ford's face betrayed nothing. Bill looked back at Mabel and grinned wider. "Glad he's less of a killjoy than I thought."

"Pffft! You know he knows how to have fun," Mabel said. "Mr. God of Long Odds."

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

Mabel squeezed past Bill into the kitchen. "Abuelita, if you want a donut, I'm putting them in the bottom left cabinet with the pots."

"Thank you, Mabel."

"I'm taking Ford to the record store to introduce him to late 80's music," Mabel went on. "And we saw a crystal shop that isn't there depending on which way you're driving! Whaaat! Crazy, right!" 

"Oh, you found Occulted Crystals?" Now Bill's grin was aimed at Ford. "I know you didn't get that bracelet there. Didn't figure out how to get in?" He winked. "Do you want to?"

Ford's expression darkened; but before he could say anything, Mabel darted back into the entryway. "No! No spoilers! You'll ruin the fun of figuring it out!"

Bill laughed. "Okay, fine! Just one safety tip: never go looking for it on an empty stomach."

Mabel gave him a distrustful look. "Will that help us get in?"

"It'll help you get back out."

She nodded slowly. "Good to know." She hugged Ford. "I'll be right back! I haven't been to the bathroom since lunch." She bounded upstairs.

Leaving Ford with Bill.

Bill simply smiled. "You talked about DD&MD? That takes me back."

"I know what you're up to, you snake," Ford said. "And it's not going to work. At least leave her out of it."

"Hey, you can't blame me for worrying about her," Bill said. "She's such a caring little thing. And you don't have a strong history of family loyalty."

Ford's hands curled into fists; but he forced himself to turn away from Bill without acknowledging him, and headed for his and Stan's guest room.

"But hey," Bill called after him. "I really am thrilled to see you two getting along so well."

Nothing in Bill's tone sounded sarcastic. Ford paused and glanced back at him suspiciously; but then he shook his head and kept going.

Bill's smile faded. He made a rude gesture at Ford's back; then returned to his post at the kitchen table to listen to Abuelita's gossip and make sure she didn't touch the poison.

####

(Thank y'all for not pulling out the pitchforks at the end of last chapter lol. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog! Thanks! 💕)

[intellectual6666]

I have some things to talk about, which I felt and saw after I got my CBSE 10th results.

Everyone takes credit. Like relatives who for the whole year kept saying, "our children also gave boards, why are they (my parents) acting like it's such a big thing?", "they are showing as if only they have work and they are busy, we are useless na", came to say, "she is our daughter/granddaughter, that's why she excelled in her exams." I do have a lot of respect for them and yes, I love them a lot too and also you can take credits of it, due to their ashirvad I was able to excel in the exams but why act like they are "only" reason I got good marks in it ? I would like to give 50% credits to my parents and the rest to me and my God. There was also a time when my father was not able to give the monthly fees of my school for 3 months, but he managed to keep me in a English medium private school by working his ass off. My mother left her social life, didn't even go to ISKCON (her favourite place) so that she can keep her full attention on me. We went through so much financial issues in 2022 and 2023 (first half) but my parents didn't let my education sacrifice. I, didn't take any tuitions so that I do not put extra burden on them (another reason I didn't take tuition coz I prefer self study more than tuitions). Me, who got so stressed because of my class 10 boards that by the time my exams were near my mental health worsened. I was getting suicidal thoughts and got introduced to new health problems which still haunt me, hypertension and palpitation. But still, I worked hard, my closest friends helped me, my parents helped me and most importantly Krishna ji, Ganesh ji, Radharani ji and Mahadev helped me. My struggle was totally mine and no one fought the war inside me other than me. So before taking the whole credit, atleast for once one should think about the people who really worked hard.

Second, this comparison shit kills one inside. No, I didn't compare myself to anyone as my parents never taught me that nor they ever compared me to anyone. Basically me and my maternal uncle's daughter are really close. And she is quite average in her studies. But trust me she is an amazing dancer, singer and artist. I envy her because of the great acting skills she have. But according to that typical thoughts, her parents always compare her with me and try to demean her, on the thing that she is not much good in studies and I'm comparatively good in it. Her results came out some days ago, as she used to study in an ICSE school and to be honest, she did amazing. Getting such marks is not so easy in ICSE board. Yesterday her mother kept comparing her with me and made her feel insecure and bad. Like why ? What do you get by hurting a child ? Why the actual fuck can't you ever be satisfied with whatever she got ? Praise her, tell her she is amazing, bring some confidence in her instead of making her feel so insecure that she starts to kill her feelings for everyone. Please freaking stop that. My mother, as usual a boss lady, replied her so sassily that my sissy ran to her and hugged her for 15 minutes straight. All of my closest friends got above 90% and I got below it, but God my parents didn't think about that for even once. They kept praising me.

So this was a rant post and you can totally ignore it if you want. Sorry for writing such a long ass thing, I had a lot to burst out.

And also sorry if there's any spelling mistake.

Congratulations to all the 10thies and 12thies for acing your exams. Everyone did amazing. I'm proud of you.

[jamethinks]

Tonight's rant is gonna be about my baby Demetrius, i know the general public don't really care about the Dessies but I do and i dont really vibe with that whole Deme got a lobotomy theory. Idk on one side i get it and i don't put it past them to write that into the story because it is an interesting angle but to me he just immediately gave off accidentally autistic vibes. A gifted kid with no social skills who doesn't understand people. He didn't give off mysterious convoluted backstory just overstimulated nerd whole doesn't know how to talk to a 6 year old.

And don't get me wrong I love wacky theories but I just feel like it's still kinda weird to say and if canon then would leave a bitter in my (and only my) mouth (based on my own interpretations of the character. it would not be a moral judgement of the creator nor material).

For me, my best theories about him (aside him just being autistic) were:

he feels threatened by Damian, like a sibling rivalry thing (least likely)

he grew up under a lot of pressure from his parents to be excellent and is now kinda jaded and just blanked out about everything and that's why his brain was blank

he just didn't socialize a lot, not a lot of friends and stuff, so he just really did not know what to say to Damian. Just an awkward moment.

Obviously, a major difference between Damian and Demetrius is that Damian is definitely more normal. I feel like he wants to be like his brother but there is a fundamental difference between the two of them ('tism) that is probably also the reason Donovan just isn't as interested in Damian. I think the story is a bit limited by the age of the characters vs the narrative they're trying to sell, like it's objectively insane for a father to already decide his son has no potential at six years old and I know rich people are irrational but let's be for real. I just feel it would work better if he was old and actually had the chance to fail but again idk maybe Deme started school at 3 who knows.

Another angle I had floating around in my head is that Damian was not wanted, like he was 100% a mistake and just was not supposed to be born. His parents just wanted one to take over the company and now they got a second one who's kinda useless and just burdensome. And so Deme was born to be an heir and was raised to be his father's successor and so while he got a lot of attention he didn't get a lot of affection. But for Damian he interpreted it as his brother having done something to earn that attention and he is now trying to gain it himself through academics the thing his brother is good at. And that frustrates Deme because it's like 1) you're setting yourself for failure and 2) now i feel even more isolated because not even my brother gets it.

My hand is falling asleep so we end it here but just some thoughts idk

[narrators-journal]

20$ make a fella holla

I don’t know if it’s obvious, but I can never describe Senku’s fucking hair. It’s just...how do you describe that shit??

Regardless, I hope this is a fun read, I just kinda had fun with it, tried to make it amusing to read, just a lil fake dating romp <3 Hope the romantic tone is there though at the end! I thought it was a pretty cute lil moment, at least.

Some people loved weddings, with the belief that they were the perfect time to bask in the love of your partner and joy of your family. Some, believed the events to be garish, stressful, exhausting nightmares for everyone involved. Which, was more or less the group you fell into.

Though, of course, you had no real issue with weddings, and someday may also wish to be married to your own future partner. But, that didn’t keep the sudden invitation to a family friend’s surprise nuptuals from coming out of left field.

So, befitting someone in your panicked position, you scrambled to find a date to accompany you to the event. Someone, anyone who could make sure you couldn’t be paired off with a complete and total stranger for pictures, and that no well-intentioned aunties, or eager, nosey grannies could offer potential dates and suitors.

Alas, your boyfriend had dumped you a month before, and none of your friends were free to attend with you. “When does this crap end? I’ve got a project to get to.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Senku, will you please quit complaining already? Do you have zerofucking social skills?” You hissed back in a similarly quiet tone your date at the reception table. Aka your roommate, Senku Ishigami. A slightly eccentric, odd-haired 19 year old science prodigy on his third year of college, and your last fucking nerve at the moment.

But, your annoyance seemed to simply bounce off of your ‘boyfriend’ as his crimson eyes glared back at you as he muttered quietly, “I do, but this is damned boring. Plus, this tuxedo is itchy as hell. I did my bit, why don’t we just leave already? The ceremony’s over.” “Because that’s passive aggressive and rude, Senku. Have you never been to a wedding?” You asked back, but before your ‘boyfriend’ could shoot back with some explanation about the useless nature of such events, one of your tablemates asked, “So, how long have you two been together?” in an attempt to start some less hissed and angry conversation. “Oh! Uh, about…” While you scrambled for a good answer, Senku jumped in to save you, “Going on two years soon. A little under a month before that marker, actually.” He answered, his boredom well hidden under his usual cool, unbothered demeanor as he spoke, but it still irked you.

Almost as much as his claim did, honestly. God, why am I not surprised that he doesn’t give a singular fuck about the plot holes I’ve gotta patch up if someone asks for details?You mentally fumed as your expression remained politely chipper and joyful as the woman across from you continued to ask questions. “How ever did you two meet then? I hope I’m not rude, but you two don’t seem like eachothers ‘types’.” She hummed, but before you could toss out some bland, cutesy meet-cute plot, Senku spoke once again, “Oh, kinda creepily, actually. She needed a room mate, I was just the person to take her offer.” Why not just admit I’m paying you to be here too?!“We didn’t like eachother at first, I usually don’t like super extroverted girls surrounded by dramatic friends and shit. Which, at first, that’s what she seemed like. I mean, jeez, let loose a machete-wielding maniac on campus and she’d have been prime ‘hot bimbo victim’ material.” Oh my fucking god, Ishigami, what next? Calling me ‘the old ball and chain’? How is this supposed to be believably romantic?!But, of course, the man continued regardless of your attempts to psychicly blow him up. “But, a month or so in, I realized my assumptions were wrong. She’s actually quite a funny, charming girl, with a good head on her shoulders, and some intellegence to her. And...well, y’know, I asked her out from there. Though, I have no clue why she agreed to date my ass, but she did! And I’ve held onto my title since then.”

As he spoke so easily, you were stuck with a nerves-laced smile the entire time. Only able to muster the occassional giggle to try and sell the romance in his take on your actual situation. Because, what else were you to do? Correct your boyfriend on your meeting story? That’d just out how fake the two of you were in an instant, so you mostly focused on your bland wedding reception food and tried not to give your room mate dirty looks as he spoke.

Thankfully, though, the woman across from you two seemed at least a bit charmed, or at least amused by the romantic twist on how your initial meeting with the odd-haired scientist. So, you could let out an internal sigh and redirect the conversation away from your ‘love story’ before Senku could cook up any other questionable tales. But, as you sat there in polite conversation as you ate your fillet mignon and mashed potatoes, Senku’s story was able to settle into your mind. Allowed to stew and marinate as the reception continued.

Why the hell would he got down such a weirdly honest route? He seems more the type to claim we met on tinder, not that weirdly sweet tale of growing to like me from an awkward set up. You asked yourself. Because, in the two years you’d had the man as a room mate, he had always favored blunt honesty over sugar-coating anything, so, it was odd that he had such a long-winded lie at the ready. And it you couldn’t explain it away as him having ‘prepped for the role’, you had to fight him just to put on a tux and pull his gravity-defying hair into a ponytail so he didn’t look weird in any wedding photos. He wouldn’t bother with that type of preparation. So...what? Was he being...honest?

It wasn’t an entirely comfortable realization to come across. Even if Senku had his moments of being attractive, and he was a pretty good room mate, he had the tact of a brick, and a blatant love for science over any living person, least of all you, right?

God, get a hold of yourself, girl.You chided yourself with a small sigh, only a glance thrown to your date to briefly study how he sat and ate his food, that glint of boredom back in his cherry-colored eyes. This isn’t some rom-com fanfiction. Your roomie hasn’t been harboring some deep love for you for two years unless your a beaker of nitroglycerin. You reminded yourself firmly, the flustered butterflies in your belly squashed coldly as you returned to the food in front of you.

Though, after a moment, you did dare another glance to your pretend boyfriend beside you, and this time, those crimson orbs looked back at you. And, as if the scientist had suddenly learned to read your mind, he leaned over until you could feel his warm breath tickle your ear when he whispered, “What’s with the weird looks? Surprised the unfeeling scientist has a heart?” in a playful,flirtatioustone that was almost alien to hear mixed into his voice. A tone you had heard plenty of time in your life, but still managed to cause you to gasp, and choke on your own spit. Like a true charmer.

“Oh! Oh shit, are you choking on something, hon?” Senku asked, instantly on his feet as you coughed on your surprise, “Jesus, maybe this is a good time to go. With your luck, dear, you’ve got a cold brewing.” He said, at least decent enough to fabricate some form of a lie before he took his opportunity and almost drug you from the reception hall just as you got your breath back. I’m going to kill this bastard.

[artificial-transmutations]

Alpha Firefighting

Reece felt bad about his job. It was not that it was particularly hard to do or that he was bad at it. The colleagues were reasonably nice (although they were often a particular kind of person that Reece didn't like very much in general). The pay was good, fantastic even for the kind of work he had to do.

No, that wasn't the problem, really. It was just that Reece sometimes felt like his job was useless, in the grand scheme of things.

He worked as a financial account manager for a big insurance company and more often than not, Reece felt like he the world in general could very much do without his job, or the company he worked for. On some occasions, he even asked himself if society wouldn't be better off without greedy capitalistic companies like the one he worked for.

Even though he always tried to do the right thing, this lack of sense troubled him a lot. He donated money and blood, didn't eat meat and tried not to fly too much, but this kind of central pain point in his life kept nagging on him.

In the nights, he often dreamed of a more fulfilling live. He pictured himself as a doctor, or a nurse. Perhaps a paramedic, or a firefighter. He even could imagine himself as a social worker or a veterinarian. But every time he woke up, he was still the same old balding office worker.

Reece wasn't too young, and he had his fair share of bills to pay, so as much as he wanted, a job change would have been a really bad idea at this point in his life, however unhappy his job made him.

One evening, when he came back from work, he passed a carnival that was still under construction. Reece was a big fan of these kinds of events. They provided fun and distraction for people who needed it most. There were many different reasons why someone might feel depressed, and there was nothing wrong with having fun to forget about them. Besides, the bright colors and colorful costumes always brightened his mood.

Strolling over the place, Reece watched the busy people erecting tents or shacks. One tent was already finished, and when he passed it, he heard someone calling from inside. It was a raspy old woman's voice asking "Do you want to know your fate?"

Reece stopped. A fortune teller's tent! Reece didn't really believe in that, but he admired the acting skills of fortune tellers, as well as the ambience, so he didn't mind to indulge in this kind of event from time to time.

He had nothing better to do this evening, so he turned around and entered the tent, and said: "Why not?" in his usual soft and friendly voice.

The lady sitting behind the table looked up at him. She was an older woman, probably in her fifties, with long black hair and dressed in a red robe. On her head was a kind of turban. In front of her was no crystal ball or deck of cards, but a single burning candle.

She regarded him with a mysterious smile and said: "Welcome! You are my first customer in this city, so I will give you a special reading."

The air in the tent was heavy with incense and Reece was happy like a young boy. He liked it when the show people were in character like that.

He nodded happily and said: "Okay! Tell me everything, please."

The lady looked into her candle and moved back and forth, like she was in a trance, before she said: "I see your fate... You are a good man, perhaps one of the best that walk the earth. But the thing that pains you... your job... you won't escape it until you retire. Your fate is to be unhappy for all of your working life."

Reece blinked. That was both unusual and sad. Normally, fortune tellers made a show of telling you unspecific good things that were coming his way. This prediction... was hitting too close to home. His unhappiness with the situation must have been so obvious that the old lady picked up on it.

Without thinking too much, he answered: "But... I don't want that. I want to have a job that's important!"

The lady opened her eyes and stared at him, before she answered: "The fate that is read is what life has in store for you. You can, however, change it. But it will cost you dearly."

"How much do I need to pay?"

"You don't have to pay in money, but in what makes you special. Do you want that?" The question sounded genuine and unjudging.

Reece didn't need to think about his answer much:

"Yes, I think I would gladly pay anything to be able to help people in my job."

The old lady smiled and blew out her candle. "Then go on and do so!"

From one moment to the next, there was pitch black darkness in the tent.

"Uhm... hello?" Reece called but stopped again at once. His voice didn't sound like it was reflected from the fabric walls of a tiny tent, but more like he was in a bigger room. He stood up and felt around until he found a light switch. After he flicked it, cold neon lights came on.

Reece was astonished. He wasn't in the tent anymore, but he was standing in some sort of locker room. It wasn't hard to discern what kind of locker room, either, since there was a lot of equipment and uniforms hanging around that pointed to one particular job.

"A firefighter?" Reece mumbled as he looked around.

"Reece, hurry up and get changed!" yelled a voice from outside.

What kind of magic was this? Did the old lady somehow made people think he was a firefighter?

Nevertheless, almost automatically, Reece disrobed. The moment he put away his suit into one of the lockers, it became a more casual attire, jeans and t-shirt. However, Reece was more concerned with the clothing still on his body, his underwear. He was sure he put on a comfortable pair of boxers this morning, but he was wearing a loose jockstrap. That didn't make sense! He didn't even own such a piece of underwear!

To make matters worse, the jockstrap was quickly changing, getting tighter and... No. No, that wasn't what was happening. It was filling up! His junk was getting bigger, mightily though. He wasn't getting hard, it was just his flaccid dick getting longer and girthier, alongside with his balls that swelled with masculine seed.

The changes didn't stop there, quite the opposite. Reece watched in amazement, as his body transformed, from his groin outward in all direction. His ass grew fitter and firmer, and his belly sucked itself in, revealing clearly visible ab muscle that stretched a bit, giving him some centimeters of extra height.

At the same time, his calves firmed up with muscle. They didn't change size a lot, but his fat melted away and was replaced by dense muscle.

As the changes reached his knees on the one end, his chest began to itch, as hundreds of small hairs sprouted on the changing flesh. It went a long way from the pudding-like consistency to two hard slabs of muscle, coated with manly hair. The changes continued down his lower legs and his arms. Biceps and triceps filled with mass, two strong arms that were made for breaking doors with a fireman's axe. His muscular legs gave him the necessary stability to do so. His feet enlarged a good one or two numbers, which would certainly help him keep his balance. Finally, the changes reached his head. Stubble formed on his chin and his hairstyle became a stylish, yet douchey cut. With his face squaring into the perfect male form, Reece’s personality changed.

Damn, was he looking good today. He gave his ample cock a last tug before he quickly changed into his uniform, ready to do his job.

Finally, he put on his sunglasses, grinning at his handsome reflection. He didn't have a particularly deep connection to his firefighter job, but the uniform looked awesome on his alpha male body, and he got to spend time with his bros. Besides, a lot of chicks and fags looked up to firefighters, which gave him plenty of material to stick his dick in.

After the operation, he needed to snap some new tinder pics and wait for the inevitable stream of thirsty comments from which he could choose from for tonight. He didn't discriminate if it was a boy or girl worshipping him, unlike most of his bros, but he got them all. He was, after all, a true alpha.

Be sure to check out my riot page for more stories, pictures and early access!

[risualto]

So I was talking, like I said, to @bragganhyl earlier about my boy Montgomery, and man...I don't talk enough about the fact that he's bisexual, but especially that he's bisexual in a specific way that makes him probably not very palatable to the internet.

Like. Okay, so here's this boy who was born to a noble house in a society where your worth is determined by magic, and he doesn't have any magic. No natural talent, no trainable skill; he literally cannot do magic no matter how hard he tries. So, because of this, he's become virtually useless to his parents as an heir except maybe as a tool for marriage, which would have to be to a woman (because there are no members of the nobility who are trans in his society--those who are fled for a better life well before feeling safe enough to come out).

Montgomery has one (1) friend growing up. One person in the whole world who is on the level with him in terms of social standing, so not having to navigate systemic power imbalances, and who is around his age, and who still cares about him despite his lack of magic (because the boy doesn't have any, either), and this person is also a boy, named Aesir. They go through everything together--every birthday, every playdate, every outing, every meeting, every lecture from their nursemaids when they get into trouble, even every scolding from their parents because they'll share everything with each other eventually. Montgomery barely has a concept of what romantic love is, but he knows very certainly that Aesir is his person, his best friend, his partner, the person Montgomery always wants at his side.

And then they turn 16, and Aesir commits the ultimate betrayal by making a warlock pact, turning to outside forces to gain magic, without telling Montgomery. He keeps Montgomery completely in the dark, shuts him out, and rips out half the bond they share, because now Aesir can do magic and Montgomery still can't. Because warlock pacts are sacrilege. If Montgomery and Aesir were nothing without magic, now Aesir has made himself the Hells incarnate, and Montgomery doesn't know whether to be in awe of his bravery or to hate him for leaving him behind. So he lashes out and rips what's left of their friendship to shreds as soon as he has the chance, because it'll hurt less than being reminded everyday that now he's not the same as the other half of his soul.

It's not until years later, after Montgomery has met a girl who leans on him as if he could be the pillar of something instead of the dust in the corner, that Montgomery realizes Aesir was his first heartbreak. It's not until he has the words to know that he's falling in love with the woman that girl has become, that he even starts to accept that maybe she's not his first love at all. And in the process of learning to love Lorelei, he learns to love himself enough to accept the place in his heart that belongs to Aesir. Montgomery still asks his friends to help him try to save Aesir from the power that cursed him, when it would be easier and probably safer for the many to simply sacrifice the one. He agonizes over whether he's the one who's betraying his friend by choosing Lorelei, whether it's fair of him to move on from the pain when Aesir is literally being eaten alive by it. He still hides from his friends, and it takes him half a decade to admit that what he felt for Aesir was even in the same vein as what he feels for Lorelei. There is always a part of him ashamed to be as fascinated by the male form as the female one, to know that it wouldn't have mattered at all what Lorelei looked like and he would have fallen for her in the end, regardless.

Montgomery's first love was a boy who he couldn't be with for a dozen reasons that were "more important" than his gender, a boy who broke his heart and who Montgomery moved on from, but ultimately chose to love platonically in the end, and then he married a woman who society would have accepted in the first place for literally all the reasons his first love "shouldn't" have been. He lives most of his life as a symbol of how the old ways of the nobility were wrong, because he becomes their greatest leader without an ounce of magic inside him, but he never brings his sexuality into the public eye. Not once. It definitely keeps him up at night sometimes wondering if he's betrayed his identity by following his heart.

[roseapprentice]

Look At It, It's Got Depression

Content Warnings: depression, ed, suicidal reasoning, ideas that could prod you toward fascism or the murder-y kind of socialism if you aren't thinking critically

I feel steadily more sure that depression evolved as a strategy to cope with times of famine & plague.

Source: I have depression and I've thought about this too much

Hear me out: What caused most premature deaths for most of history? Infectious disease. When did infections kill the most people? While we were starvation-weak.

We think of evolution as a process that refines survival skills, and that's mostly right. But the drive of natural selection is more precisely, "Make sure something with similar genes exists in the future." And our standard for similarity can get wonky.

Humans' top priority is usually offspring, and next up is a messy mashup of ourselves and whichever other humans we know and like best.

So imagine we're a group of early humans, trying to keep our loved ones alive in hungry plague times. What strategies will help? Eat rarely to keep food available. Scarf down calorie-dense food before it spoils, especially if there's a lot or there's no one around to share with. Be lethargic & pessimistic about adventures to conserve calories.

If we feel extra bad, shun the people we love for their protection. Distrust the outgroup because they're here to either spread disease or take our food. Reconcile ourselves to thoughts of death in case wandering off to die with our contagion/empty stomach becomes the best shot at survival for our friends.

What cues could our bodies rely on to trigger this response? Lack of plant life in our surroundings. Worrying mainly about how to manage limited resources. Lack of exercise because there's no food to hunt & gather. Shortage of contact with other humans because the ones that rely on us most are already dead or deathly ill.

If you're a human living in the 21st century, these cues are probably sounding awfully familiar.

Of course the strategies are useless now. Advances like motor equipment & modern fertilizer turned starvation into a purely political phenomenon; quietly fading away doesn't help your people survive politicial oppression. Cross-cultural cooperation gets more feasible and necessary with just about every new technology. Physical isolation can still block disease sometimes, but a lack of social support does the opposite. It's now possible to isolate with tools & careful timing instead of instinctive exile; and anyway medicine & sanitation have made that need a lot rarer.

If I'm right about the cause, modern human life contains a wild excess of depression triggers and a stark lack of uses for depression. It's an outmoded strategy with a stuck "on" button.

I've never seen scientific literature bring up this hypothesis (though it has to be out there somewhere). But here's why I want to tell people about my weird pet theory despite my having no research behind it:

In the worst part of my depression, I came across a post that helped me hugely. It said, "Depression is when your body wants to die but your heart wants to live."

I didn't feel at all like my heart wanted to live, but the words hit so hard that I started to wonder if it was true somewhere deep down under all the numb misery.

Any moments when I did want to live just fed directly into my desire to die; the wanting hurt so much that making it stop felt like the ultimate priority. The force of my survival instinct was twisting back on itself as if my brain was caught in some weird paper finger trap of death.

This illness was vast and insidious and frustrating and pointless.

But if depression is an adaptive trait, then my experience makes sense. My body is intermittently trying to incapacitate, starve, or kill me in order to protect the people I love. (In some cases that includes incapacitating/starving me short-term to provide for my long-term survival.)

That's a depression I can accept and outmaneuver.

I can say, "Yes, I want to protect us/them too! These people are my heart, and I want my heart to live. Thank you for also wanting that. But your methods stink."

Then I can use all possible cunning to remind my body that my presence is a blessing to my loved ones, that adventures can yeild satisfying rewards, and that there is more than enough food around for all of us to thrive if only some jerks weren't holding it hostage.

When I've laid out this idea in the past to other people with depression, they tend to eventually find it intuitive and empowering in a similar way. (Or else they start humoring me 😛)

So here's me offering it up to the internet in general to see what y'all make of it.

Final note: for the gazillionth time I'm linking to the interactive self-care website, You Feel Like Shit. I find it's an effective tool for precisely resisting this intricate self-sabatage contingency that's been stupidly built into my stupidly overcomplicated brain by stupid evolution.

(At least I think that's what happened)

[hyperlexichypatia]

There’s a viral post on Facebook that says “Who’s the worst person you ever met and why is it the boyfriend you had when you were 19?” Of course, most of the responses involved the brain maturity myth – young women’s boyfriends are terrible people because young women are too neurologically immature to make better choices (while anyone of any gender can have a boyfriend, in context this seems to be referring to women in heteronormative relationships). Obviously, in my ongoing quest to push back against the brain maturity myth, I wanted to propose some alternate explanations. One obvious one is selection and confirmation bias – women who didn’t have a terrible boyfriend when they were 19 aren’t going to engage with this content. The past tense of “had” and “when” do some work here; people who are still in relationships with the partners they had when they were 19 aren’t included in this either. But even taking that into account, let’s say that having dated a truly terrible boyfriend in one’s young adulthood is a very common experience among women who’ve dated men. Why is that? “Young women are bad at picking men” is simply not a sufficient explanation, even if we suppose that it’s true. Sure, younger women have less experience at selecting partners than older women have, and may be more economically desperate (both much better explanations than “brain immaturity”), but that can only explain so much. If Alice is going grocery shopping for the first time, and Brenda has been grocery shopping for 20 years, it's likely that Brenda knows more grocery shopping tricks than Alice. Brenda probably knows more about checking expiration dates, seals, and other indicators of quality. While Brenda isn't immune to accidentally buying a rotten fruit, Alice is more at risk of it. 

But if over half the fruit in the supermarket is rotten, that's not down to anyone's shopping skills. That's a problem to take up with the store manager, or the supplier, or the health department. 

We need to speak to masculinity's manager. If a sizeable portion of men who date women are persistently morally terrible, no amount of “women choosing better” will change the situation. We can’t musical-chairs our way out of this one. One effect of the brain maturity myth is to convince young women that having morally decent partners is an unreasonable expectation. If you’re a young woman interested in a romantic relationship, society tells you, and you date men your own age, you can’t expect them to treat you well, because they’re neurological children who are too immature for burdensome adult responsibilities like being considerate of a partner. And if you date men older than you are, you can’t expect them to treat you well, because anyone who would date a neurological child like yourself must be a moral reprobate in the first place. Of course for people who believe in this narrative, this outcome is a feature, not a bug – they believe that young women shouldn’t be in serious romantic relationships in the first place. Young women, in this worldview, should avoid serious romantic commitments until they’re neurologically and financially (which they regard as the same thing) “ready” for them.  

But does that actually lead to better results? At least anecdotally, a common complaint of women in the age range for socially approved serious relationships (late 20s through 40s, say, with partners of similar age ranges) goes like this: “When my partner and I were dating, he treated me well, but when we got married, moved in together, and/or had children together, he turned into a useless, obnoxious jerk.” If the explanation for a 19 year old man treating his partner badly is “He’s too neurologically immature” (and the explanation for a 19 year old woman partnering with a man who treats her badly “She’s too neurologically immature to know better”), what’s the explanation for 40 year old, 50 year old, 60 year old couples in the same situation? The pattern would seem to suggest that as young men mature, they go from being openly misogynistic and abusive, to learning to conceal their abusive misogyny until they’ve convinced their girlfriends to become wives, partners, or coparents. 

I also need to point out, again, that I have never seen the brain maturity myth used to argue for restricting the rights of abled cishet young men. I have only ever seen it used to restrict the rights of young women, young disabled adults, and young queer adults and teens. If anything, abled cishet young men, especially otherwise privileged ones, benefit from being considered immature (“He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know any better”) while every other demographic of young people has their alleged immaturity used as a reason to restrict their personal freedoms. 

So why do so many women have shared terrible experiences of awful boyfriends when they were younger? It can’t actually be because they were too neurologically immature to select better partners, since that wouldn’t explain why so many straight men were terrible partners in the first place. It can’t actually be because young men are too neurologically immature to treat their partners well, because so many older men also treat their partners badly. It might be, then because society as a whole devalues women, especially young women and otherwise multiply marginalized women, and classifies them as fair game for mistreatment. Straight men are taught that they’re owed a girlfriend or wife, and this requires no action on their part of treating her well, at least past the initial courtship phase of the relationship. The explanation then, is misogyny. And patriarchy. And kyriarchy. And systemic oppression. 

So can we stop blaming young women now?

[lynxfrost13]

Some rough HOPR lore as promised, I really have been wanting to type something more proper up in the official style + I have to font but I don’t have a writing program on my computer to use it on 😭

I tried using online Microsoft word but that didn’t work with it so I might have to do the free app trial? We shall see

ANYWAY

Here’s the bare bones HOPR lore it is very subject to change

- Gestalt was kitezh born (empire at the time, and as of Ariane’s rotfront memory in conflict but dominantly empire still) but moved to a nation planet and stayed in the military after her mandatory service with them. She spent the rest of her life serving out of a need to want to prove herself as truly loyal to the nation and eventually volunteered to donate her template to the neural archive. Rip HOPR gestalt 😔

- HOPRs stand at a solid 5’11! Taller than Elster and shorter than arar by one inch (they’re always gonna tell you they’re six foot. Lying little bastards trying to impress you.)

- they’re a multipurpose unit intended for war against the empire primarily, with a lot of them serving as soldiers (incredibly skilled spear fighters) and war propagandists

- they were commonly used for war recruitment and morale boosting, they’re not cheerful sweet personalities but they’re excellent at directing their groups and during their heyday were often looked to as the ideal nation soldier

- they’re older models (~gen 3 like Mynahs?) and once bioresonant combat units started being produced the HOPR line was rendered useless. Most of them are decommissioned now and the few remaining are most likely lost to Vineta and distant abandoned parts of the nation.

- for stabilization they need a space to call their own (THEIR room. No one else’s >:| ) even if it’s tiny!! They just need to have a couple things they feel like they can completely own (books, posters, etc it can vary). Every combat HOPR is equipped with a spear. If they don't have any fetish items they can become really protective over replikas/gestalts which can cause issues especially with degradation, so it's better to provide items.

- personality wise they’re very strong willed and eager to prove themselves in combat. Despite craving violence they also tend to be pretty laid back when left to their own devices. They’re not the most social of replikas outside of their work, but they want to impress and tend to come off as tryhards and ridiculous flirts. Don't be fooled by their calmer attitude during downtime though, they're still combat replikas first and foremost.

- degradation can happen if they hear any news/talk of Kitezh, lose their fetish objects, or lose their commander (they usually have to be decommissioned after a loss like that bc they just can’t bounce back from it). They shouldn't have their loyalty or authority questioned unless ABSOLUTELY necessary, it can lead to severe degradation.

[keicordelle]

I will never be over how Endwalker just destroyed Emmanellain's characterization. They needed a waifish, damsel in distress comedic relief character, and they just ignored all of his 3.x character development to do it! They just slapped him in there to be a pretty boy noble who doesn't want to be there, when post-Heavensward Emmanellain is so much more than that.

Like yes, that's very much what he was at the start of the game. He didn't want to fight, or take life particularly seriously, and he wasn't really good at the things his family wanted him to be good at.* He was flighty and immature and completely willing to just go through life riding on the coattails of his brother and getting by on his family name. No one expected much from him, and he was perfectly content with that status quo. He is a comedic caricature of a pretty boy noble there, so incompetent that he's assigned his own houseboy to keep him in line.

But all that changes post-Heavensward. He's thrust into a position where suddenly he has to take charge, and make decisions, and he's not ready for it. He makes the wrong call, and he blames others for it, as he's always done. And then he experiences the consequences for his actions. And it's still someone else who suffers for them! It's Honoroit who gets beat up, not Emmanellain himself! But it forces him to own up to his shortcomings in a way he's never bothered to before. (Thancred's fist and the imposing WoL certainly help with that too, of course.) He's given an ultimatum, and he steps up!

And of course he's not going to magically become a clone of Artoirel and get super serious and become an amazing knight. That's not who he is, and that's not where his skills lay. But he's trying. When you talk to him after that, he tells you about his training regiment, and how he's still not much good with a sword and how he'll never be like Haurchefant, but he's working on it, and he's training regularly and not skipping out on it like he used to. And when he takes over Camp Dragonhead, he treats the role with all the gravity it's due. Even Artoirel says he's impressed with him and how seriously he's taking it!

And then he shows back up in Endwalker and it's like they've just erased all that character development and turned him back into a useless ponce. He's not there because he wants to be, he's there because his brother commanded it and he had no choice. And, idk, but the Emmanellain I'd come to love wouldn't have stressed that so hard. Even if it had been Artoirel's suggestion, even if he knew he wasn't suited for the task, 3.x Emmanellain would have taken the role seriously and done his best in whatever capacity he can. While still being a flirty comic relief character.

Like, I love Emmanellain and Sicard, but damn I wish they hadn't destroyed my boy to bring them together.

*However, that doesn't mean he wasn't good at anything, or that his skills were useless! He's very adept socially, and he knows all sorts of rumors and all sorts of people. We see it during the riots in 3.1 in particular, where he knows people who knows people. There's merit to being a well connected gossip in high society! Just because he's not good with a sword doesn't mean he's useless! And he himself goes through a whole arc of self discovery where he realizes his skills are, in fact, skills.

[paeliae-occasionally]

Marsh sounds hilarious, so I'll ask: Loredump me about him :) Tell me every dumb little headcanon (or canon) you've got. I wanna hear everything!

Gladly!

Intro

Marsh first arose because I wanted a villain who was doing bad things, but not because of trauma or because something was making them do it, so Marsh is the happiest of all of my characters and has the most autonomy. This makes his decisions to do bad things even more impactful, because he has no excuse, he just enjoys it.

Backstory

Marsh and Daimion were born in a small town to a pair of working class people, and even at a young age Marsh was a problem. He killed a couple of wild animals in the woods just to see how they died, and also received many reports from teachers about misconduct and strange comments and questions he asked. He realised from a young age that he gets a sense of joy and fulfilment from ending lives he deems useless, but at this point he is still a little afraid of the social consequences and moral implications of this.

Marsh’s parents, not knowing what to do, sent both boys to train in the military at the youngest age they could, 13. (They were not stationed anywhere, just trained for when they were old enough to serve.)

Both of them advanced quickly in the next few years. When they turned 18 and were both able to be selected for a division, they were both selected for an elite unit which carried out high importance operations and had almost complete immunity from any war crime, or human rights concerns. By this point Marsh decides to accept that he enjoys killing, and stops holding himself back for the sake of morality. He finds this really freeing and feels much happier after this realisation. Because of this he tries in vain to convince Daimion to do the same as him.

The men here were basically raised together and there was a strong lad-ish culture which Marsh and Daimion engaged in for a while, then later steered clear of. Daimion is always more hesitant of the violence part of the job, but marsh assures him that he just has to accept that he likes it, then he could stop worrying and enjoy it. Daimion secretly does enjoy it, and hates himself for doing it, he could never accept it the way Marsh does.

As young men they served with enthusiasm, Marsh particularly enjoyed torturing and killing spies that were brought in, and he gained a bit of a reputation in the military because of his skill at it. The division was happy for him to enjoy it however he liked if he kept getting information, but Daimion became uncomfortable and the other people in the division stopped talking to Marsh.

Hazi

One day, 5 years into their service with this unit, they were ordered to fire on innocent civilians and massacre the whole village with no survivors. The village was called Hazi. Marsh and Daimion both started shooting, but Daimion had a giant mental breakdown at his waring ideas of loyalty and following orders, and his morality and sense of justice. He ends up being unable to bring himself to keep shooting, and knowing what the unit will do if he disobeys a direct order, he runs away.

The survivors of the initial killings managed to escape as the unit was re-assigned to finding Daimion, rather than catching stragglers.

Marsh is annoyed that Daimion didn’t come to him first before running, but decides there is no place for him here anymore, and he would be bored without his brother, so he opens fire on his comrades, killing 5 and wounding another 3 He tries to kill a boy who he knew well and cared about, but is stopped when he feels an irrational pain at the idea of killing someone who he would rather see alive. He has felt a similar pain when he tries to kill someone he considers useful. From this moment on, he never tries to kill someone useful, or that he cares about, because the joy he usually feels is replaced with pain, and that is not worth his effort.

Marsh ends up back in a nearby city sleeping on a rooftop with his weapons. Eventually he gets bored again and travels down to the central square and proceeds to kill 32 people and wound 14. He is arrested and sentenced to 32 life sentences, but in no way regrets it because of how much he enjoyed the experience.

His military record gets him placed in a high security prison, but in time he finds a way to escape his cell. He kills a guard with his own weapon, and taking his keys, he escapes his cell and goes on another killing spree, killing 41 inmates and 16 guards. When he gets tired, he just returns straight back to his cell, with the keys. The guards would try to take the keys back, but he also kept his weapons and people are terrified of entering a cell with him.

After a few years of moving him to more and more secure prisons, Marsh is visited by Daimion and his girlfriend Zahra. They ask him some questions about Hazi. They are trying to return a child to the survivors of the massacre, and asked Marsh’s help in finding them.

Marsh says he’ll think about it, as soon as they leave the room, he knocks out a guard with their own weapon and shoots everyone in the room. Daimion and Zahra run. Marsh shoots 52 more inmates and 22 guards in this attack alone, then fully escapes the prison to join Dai and Zahra.

This is the point at which the WIP starts, so I will leave it here for now. Hope this is interesting. <3

[not-5-rats]

Another idiot for my collection, meet my Knight

(the Lost Prince audios are my favourite <3333)

Tag list for lists or smth idrk-

( @diamondzoey , @aspenm00n , @rozeliyawashereyall)

Rambling Under The Thingy!

(CW: death)

Evren Talibert [He/They]:

He was born a rather talented musician (he plays fiddle & lyre) though he never informed his mother of his talent

Ever since he was a young lad his parents had one set goal for him, to be a great Knight, powerful and bold. Who would fulfil the role of brave Prince in the tale his father had heard so many years ago

Music did not progress this goal, so it was useless. His mother was very strict about that

His older sister was one of the only people that let him shamelessly enjoy his hobbie, she embraced even encouraged him to pursue music if that was what his heart truly desired to do

His father wasn't as strict as his mother with what he could do but still didn't approve of the musical hobbies he had. He too believed he should devote all his time to learning the art of the sword

Yet whilst he didn't believe he should be spending so much time learning music he didn't get angry at him for it like his mother did, he simply told him to focus on what mattered. So he did...well tried to

It was like something drew him to the instruments, he couldn't put them down and when he did he couldn't bring himself to leave them. Once he even tried breaking his fiddle but he couldn't stop himself from putting it back together

But one day he found the motivation to focus on his training, his mother died. There were intruders in the house, they had weapons. Evren tried with all his might but his attempts were futile, she was killed with a dagger to the head

His father knew it wasn't entirely Evrens fault...but it was clear he blamed him for what happened. If he had listened to his mother, listened when she told him to focus on his work, then maybe...just maybe she would still be alive

He pushed himself to try his best, yet even as he found himself barely able to stand due to aches and wounds from his training...he smiled. He refused to let his smile slide, no matter what happened

But something changed within Evren, something deep down. He used to be genuine and caring yet now he was simply a shell of that. He was still kind to those he met but it was shallow and fake

He loves people, he's always been a social person, finding joy in the joy of others but now...he couldn't let people in, he had to focus.

He tried to block people out, he tried to avoid forming friendships but he always fails, people are so kind and break down his defenses. Even after everything he remains too trusting for his own good.

Now here he is, a Knight of the realm, finding the lost Prince

He has oneeee slight issue, he ain't the brightest. Sure he's got social skills, musical skills but literacy...mathematics...nah

Child List!!

Oldest - Elvira

Youngest - Evren

[tuiyla]

You are the only one I trust when it comes to Jackie/Shauna. Please share more thoughts about them,talk about the power imbalance/power play that exists in their friendship.

Okay so!

I'm very flattered by this ask and only ignored it for two weeks cause I've ignored everything uwu. But rest assured I'll be foaming at the mouth about Jackie and Shauna for a long while to come.

The power imbalance is fascinating in that it takes the delicacies of female teen friendship and then takes it to the extreme because of the Yellowjackets' circumstances. Left in the real world without the crash and the wilderness, Jackie and Shauna would have still come to blows and fought because Shauna was eventually going to fess up and tell Jackie that she had plans of her own. And given how codependent they already were getting on that plane, that still would have made for a compelling story. But heightened by the insane circumstances of being stranded in the wilderness? Oh boy.

The thing is, it's easy to look at their relationship and say Jackie had all the power until she had none of it and died. But I actually think Shauna had more power than probably anyone gave her credit for when Jackie was still alive and if anything it was in death that she let Jackie take over. At least the way I see it, Jackie's control over Shauna a) doesn't come from a place of malevolence and b) is just as desperate as Shauna is. Shauna falls in line and sometimes reluctantly but overall accepts Jackie's input and control, but it's actually Jackie's desperation that this reveals more. It's Shauna's affection that fuels Jackie and Shauna's betrayal that leads to the events of her demise. Jackie gives Shauna the power to destroy her and that becomes literal in the harsh circumstances of being stranded.

Particularly out in the wilderness, Jackie's actual powerlessness comes to the surface. She's useless at survival and her social skills become less and less useful as the group's desperation grows and they feel more and more distant from civilization. Shauna notices the target this puts on Jackie's back and tries to help her. And this can be read as her once again subduing under Jackie, trying to elevate the Queen Bee. But I think this just proves that Shauna, more than anyone (apart from Nat, arguably) sees Jackie as the painfully flawed human that she is. And she takes control of the situation but in a way that tries to help Jackie because that's what Shauna does. Not always help Jackie, oh no, but center her life around her.

As the drama and particularly the cheating and babygate of it all comes to head, Shauna actually lets go of her power. Her blowing up at Jackie, them blowing up at each other isn't just about Shauna standing up for herself but it's actually about Shauna letting go of the carefully curated control she's had over the situation. By having her affair with Jeff out in the open and by giving Jackie a nasty piece of her mind, Shauna loses the invisible but present power she's had all this time. Because Jackie storms out and Jackie has the last word. And the rest of Shauna's life will be defined by what she did and didn't do that night, what Jackie's life could have been.

And god, the two of them in Jackie's death. The way season 2 has been feeding us so well. And oh my god the pun I just realised that sentence has in a show like this. Jackie doesn't just haunt the narrative but she haunts Shauna in an unshakable way. We haven't had a Jackie scene since The Incident but I bet we will have Ella Purnell back to torture Shauna some more. And that's all because Shauna is giving Jackie that power, giving everything she can to the girl who'll never come back to her. It's not really Jackie because Jackie's last act was storming out and now she's gone. But Shauna keeps imagining being told off by Jackie and does everything she possibly can to alleviate guilt. She consumes Jackie so as to never lose her. She "shares" her with the group, to make them understand, to help ease the burden. She convinces herself this is what Jackie would have wanted. She gives that power back to Jackie over and over again. She marries Jeff and becomes the housewife Jackie would have been and has an annual meal with the Taylors. Shauna's been living in denial for 25 years because every day she wakes up and she gives a long dead Jackie power over her life, hoping for a different outcome.

And don't even get me started on "I don't know where I end and you begin". They're out there redefining the codependent bestie game. Jackie's dead but she's alive, she's always alive in Shauna's head. Because their power play as teens in New Jersey depended on a delicate balance of Jackie seemingly having the most control and once that illusion began fading, once Shauna showed her hand and let it all slip out, that was all it took. And Shauna will never ever stop feeling guilty about that. No amount of talking to the corpse or chasing ghosts or consuming Jackie over and over again will fix that. Shauna has lost all the power to Jackie but Jackie's dead and doesn't actually have anything so that just leaves them with... nothing.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for avenging my brother?

hiiiii ^^ so im (30, let's say M for convenience's sake) am currently the leader of a very big sect, which was Not the plan WhatSoEVER (i'll get into it). i was born as the younger sibling to the sect heir, which meant i had free reign to basically do whatever i wanted while he got the responsibilities and stuff! great deal methinks. our father died when we were both still young due to heart issues that run in the family and also being killed. since my brother had a decade or so on me, he pretty much raised me from then on while also having the new role of official sect leader on his shoulders.

again, seems like a good deal! he was strict, and really really insisted i practiced my fighting skills (like that wasn't the literal cause of our family's heart issues) to the point that one time he like kind of burned my paper fan collection in front of me but that's like it's all besides the point okay he loved me and i loved him and we were both there for each other okay? okay

anyway he had this servant/best friend/pretty sure somethingsomething was going on there. he was kind of like a second big brother to me. our interests overlapped and he also preferred stuff like art and poetry over fighting. he understood me in a way that my brother couldn't, and he helped raise me just as much, even accompanying me to my third year of summer courses. which lol was supposed to be a one year course but i failed twice. lmao w/e

things got... bad. a war broke out, the servant betrayed us by letting a dangerous enemy out of his cell, and he and my brother had a horrible fight that ended in the former's expulsion from our sect. fast forward yadda yadda this isn't so much the part of the story it's just context but basically that turned out to be a plan to get close to the enemy sect leader so he could stab him in the back. which turned out to become a recurring theme.

the servant, now a prominent figure in his own sect, my brother, and one basically-a-celeb from another sect became this big trio (and totally a Thing) because of the role they played in ending the war. servant-now-big-boy (let's go with snbb for convenience) used that position to send my brother into a cardiac arrest by playing a melody that was supposed to soothe him differently.

so now i was alone, and with one of the current biggest sects to lead, while all i wanted to do is look cute, paint and be bisexual. you can probably imagine how i felt when i learned who did it, especially considering how not only no one else knew, but he got /rewarded/ for it by becoming a sect leader himself. soooo i got a little silly and here's where i mighttttt be tah :3

basically i started a 10+ years revenge plan. i didn't really plan a /lot/ of it, but i knew i'd have to resurrect one of my childhood friends for it to grab attention away from me etc and such and so on and so forth. but basically i also got a gay and socially rejected teenager killed for that, desecrated the corpse of snbb's mother, paid some people to spread rumours here and there, possibly killed a few cats to lure a group of people where i needed them to be, and adopted a public persona of a useless idiot who couldn't run a sect for the life of me to keep suspsicions off of me for the duration of this, which was Also a part to get back at him because that meant he, as someone responsible and sooo niceys and oh won't you please help your poor little meowmeow with the big scary emails plssss (he basically ran the sect for me lol).

to top it all off i had him killed by the one person that loved him the most (mister sir basically-a-celeb. god his jawline is stronger than my will to live) (he has gone into seclusion and is isolating himself indefinitely to mourn)

but also all this allowed my old bestie to get gay married with his longtime heartthrob

so. aita?

[trollsedits]

I saw your posts requesting ideas! I am curious, what are you head canons on the Trolls and their relationship with Velvet and Veneer? Let’s say this is based on a redemption arc for them where they slowly befriend the Trolls :3

Thank you so much for this request!!! I love the idea of Velvet and Veneer becoming friends w the trolls reminds me a lot when Bergens befriend the trolls ahahah 😩🫶🏻 Honestly I’m hoping to see velvet and veneer redemption arc in the next movie cuz they reminds me so much of my two close friends who are siblings anyways yes I’ll do my own headcanon on their relationship is w befriended with the trolls I hope you like this again this is my headcanon! 🩷

So this redemption arc takes place after the events of Trolls band together! And also Velvet & Veneer got out of prison and the trolls (mostly poppy or Floyd ideas to help them become a better person and befriend the trolls)

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John Dory:

-I would say that although he’s willing to help the siblings be a better person he still hold some grudges against them

(mostly at velvet THEY LITERALLY ALMOST KILLED HIS BABY BRO!)

-Jonh Dory won’t be as good as the other trolls when helping the twins to befriend w the trolls cuz that Amazon box looking dude I mean John has been living alone for 20+ years with no good social skills

-he will definitely help teach them survival skills Venner will most likely take that lessons from him and Velvet on the other hand will think is dumb and useless but she’s actually listening she won’t admit that she likes these lessons until she had to build a tent and do survival stuff cause John made them spend a night in the woods

-over time Veneer will have a good relationship with Amazon Box Uh I mean John Dory John would even be comfortable enough to show veneer embarrassing pictures of Floyd and others brozone brother

-Velvet and John relationship became rocky because like I’ve mentioned Jonh holds grudges towards velvet the most he knows that veneer wants no part in this troll-napping but he still gives velvet a chance to be friends with him and fix her past mistakes they would argue 24/7

-Venner would be the one to stop velvet from trying to troll-nap Jonh because he feels like he’s so annoying

Venner: Don’t You dare try to capture him again Vels, He’s trying to help us be a better person and be friends with him give him a chance!

Velvet: Ugh! Fine you’re lucky Amazon square box that veneer save your little *** I’ll do what ever you ask *rolls her eyes at John an cross her arms*

-Over time velvet and Jonh will warm up with each other eventually those two will share embarrassing stories about their younger siblings isn’t that great 😌

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Sorry if John Dory one was a bit bad but I honestly feel like velvet and Venner relationship w square face will be like a mix feeling for this dude like I believe that Venner will automatically become friends with the trolls and velvet would take a while :]

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Bruce:

-As soon as they both got out of jail Bruce and brandy offered to let the twins worked at his restaurant as waiters and waitresses

-They were both bad at their jobs at first rude to the customers mostly velvet she would even scared his poor 13 kids they would have nightmares about her and veneer would just sass the customers

-unlike John Bruce dose not hold grunges against them b/c they were just teenagers and they didn’t know any better so he gave them a 2nd chance

-Bruce relationship with Venner reminds Bruce of him and his 3 younger brother who would often sass him mostly clay and Floyd would sass him but Bruce would treat Venner like a literal child if Venner give him attitude

Bruce: I won’t let you go on break until you tell that customer that you’re sorry for being rude to them come on now say it that you mean it

-once the restaurant was closed Bruce would help the twins with training and how to treat the customers with kindness

-Bruce and velvet won’t get along at first because you will hear Bruce yelling at velvet for being rude to a customer (she once threw a bowl is galss nachos at a customer which made Bruce apologize to that customer and offered them free meals and drink due to velvet behavior)

-he will not give up on teaching the twins how to be nice around others not just trolls but other people especially his wife and children

-Overtime Venner would become less sassy and he actually improving he was much nicer to them and he also was becoming super nice that Bruce promoted him to the kitchen w his wife she would teach veneer how to cook which got him excited

-Venner almost burned the place down he apologized to Bruce and brandy and he means it he was crying and begging Bruce not to send him back to prison

Venner: I’m so sorry that I almost burned the place down please don’t send me away 😭

Bruce: *Pats his head* is okay Venner we all make mistakes and hey don’t worry is a learning process you have been improving a lot unlike your sister who needs a bit more work :)

-Bruce will continue to work with velvet to get her to change her attitude meaning that he will stand by her shoulders when she’s taking orders to make sure she’s won’t say anything rude to them

-Soon velvet will also become less rude to the customers and she and brandy built up a friendship and she will soon stop scaring Bruce kids they will soon to love her and Venner and ask Bruce and brandy if they could baby sit them while these two go on their date night

-velvet and Venner would be pretty good friends/ babysitter for the kids if they continue to change their attitude meaning no more sass and being rude)

-Bruce would automatically become friends with them overtime because of how much they change and he’s proud of them for changing their attitude

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I feel like clay would be short cuz that dude just like John hold grunges against them but he’ll make a offer to let them befriend him but he’s careful he still doesn’t trust them

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Clay:

-Just like JD he holds grudges against them because he almost lost Floyd cuz of them

-Would let them join his book club velvet thinks is stupid cuz you just sit there and cry and hug

-Venner on the other hand would actually cry holding clay and the others putt-Putt trolls and squeezing them a little too tight he wanted to let his tears out til he has no tears left to cry

Venner: you trolls are so huggable I could squeeze you forever <3 :D

-By hearing Venner say that clay immediately jumps off aswell the other putt-putt trolls

-Clay relationship with the siblings would be a struggle at first but he soon noticed how Venner got along with the others trolls and joining clays sad book club and Venner over time slowly is very careful not to squeeze the trolls when hugging and crying… (I need a fanart of Venner hugging clay or the other trolls crying tag me if you drew it I wanna see it 😩)

-Clay would give velvet a book on “How to treat others people with kindness” velvet wouldn’t read it at first but after Clay convincing her to she then read it

-later she would ask clay to help her how to be friends with other trolls cause she see how well Venner got along with clay and the other trolls

-Overtime, she and clay would be friends just like him and Venner but clay still doesn’t trust them clays always ready just in case they turn their backs on him

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I’m so sorry if clay was super short I know clay relationship w the twins is kinda like Okay we can be friends but I don’t trust you enough type of friend ship I believe Bruce would convince clay to trust them but clay won’t trust them 100%

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Floyd:

-There’s no need for him to hold grudges against those two especially velvet who has been very mean to him during the band together events

-Venner would be the frist one to apologize to Floyd for his sister behavior aswell his 🥺 and he promised that he has change

-He easily forgave Venner as for velvet he’s slowly getting there but he’s still do anything to help velvet and Venner be friends with other trolls

-Venner and Floyd would quickly becomes friends because Floyd saw how much Venner has change over the past years

-Floyd would have a day where he spend times with each of the siblings separately he had no problem with Venner they bonded and all but when it came to velvet he had much harder time cuz she would give him that look as if she was gonna lock him up in a diamonds prison again but he still made and effort to help velvet

-He’s very calm when velvet would have one of her meltdown in public where every trolls is looking at her having a break down and Floyd was just telling her to calm down

-Overtime velvet would slowly open up to Floyd being a sensitive understanding troll he understands velvet pain and the reason why she did what she did he felt bad so…

-He offered to help velvet and Venner find their true voice by giving them voice lessons and he would make them sing happy birthday and the alphabet every single day velvet often complain but she slowly realizes that her voice is becoming better with out any trolls

-Floyd would even adopt these siblings as his kids because he knows their struggles and he could help them through this and he’s understand them like no other trolls would ever not even homegirl crimp know them like Floyd dose despite him being locked up in a diamond prison

-Overtime velvet would be comfortable enough to apologize to Floyd for imprisoning him and she will grow soft on Floyd meaning that she will be protective of Floyd she’s like a cat who’s follow their owners everywhere

-Velvet begs Floyd not to tell anyone that she’s grown soft on him but eventually everyone knows even branch was worried and he has his gear ready but poppy threw them away

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I honestly think Floyd and the twins relationship would be like father and kids cuz I have high hope that if any trolls beside poppy who would help these former superstars be friends with trolls is Floyd and they would actually become 100% nicer even velvet despite her lack of empathy and showing any signs of emotion towards others I honestly loved Floyd and their relationship for the redemption arc 🫶🏻

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Branch:

-Just like John and clay but expect poor branch holds the biggest grudges against them because they almost killed his favorite brother

-He would give them a cold look

-Poppy and Floyd would often hold him back because we all know he wants to attack these twins so badly

-Poppy would tell branch to give them a chance and think positively and that they will change just like the Bergens

Poppy: come on branch give them a change branch I’m sure they have learn their lesson and they are ready to become friends with the trolls

Branch: okay, poppy I’m positive that they will betray us and kidnap us and locked us up in a diamond prison :^)

Poppy: come on branch I’m trying here -_-

-still can’t convince branch to forgive them but poppy made him and the twins bonds together at first it was a struggle usually branch would be yelling at them to the point where when poppy came to check on them velvet and Venner were just shaking and crying cuz out of all the brozone brothers branch would hate them that much T-T

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Okay, I’m sorry if branch was short cuz I feel like branch holds grunge’s against them so his relationship with them isn’t going anywhere else despite they have a redemption arc and are trying to be friends trolls and become a better person so they will slowly have to earn branch trust then 🤷🏻‍♀️

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I would write poppy but you all already know that she will easily forgive the twins. And their relationship with her would be similar to Floyd so I didn’t write a poppy headcanon for that cuz that trolls easily forgives anyone she’ll probably even forgive Creek for selling them out aswell which made branch a bit tick off of how easily his girlfriend easily forgave someone especially the superstar twins who almost killed his brother…

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As for viva she wasn’t there beside helping rescue brozone but just like her sister poppy she would forgive the twins and they would easily become friends from her braiding their hair and so much more…

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Anyways, I hope you liked this sorry if it not exactly what you were looking for but I still hope you do like it <3 this took me one whole day well I had to take breaks in between cuz I have homework but anyways I hope you liked it 🥺

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Anyways if you want to request me anything just click under my profile “Ask me anything!” And request me some content cuz I’m running out of ideas rn

In the meantime I’m going to be super busy for the next couple of weeks due to school and real life stuff but I will absolutely get back to you so it will take me a while I enjoy writing headcanon and stuff I appreciate being here you guys keep me motivated to post more trolls content anyways moving forward I like I’ve mentioned I will be busy for the next couples of weeks so please be patient 🫶🏻…..

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