#outlines of characters AT BEST

[wackywatchdotcom]

something i genuinely adore about tadc is how painfully flawed everyone in the circus is. and not in a small way

everyone does SOMETHING that negatively impacts the others. but it makes the fact that you are supposed to sympathize with and really connect with them all the more potent. because its easy to want to put a bunch of characters in a bad situation together and to just have them all be nice to each other and everyone and never make mistakes because theres no reason to hurt each other, and most of them dont TRY to, but the way they cope is so, so realistic for each of their personalities, and it doesnt always mesh with the others, and sometimes it exceeds self destructive and Just Hurts Others, Too

they still generally care about each other and the mistakes they make and the ways they end up hurting each other dont lose their weight but like. it doesnt take away from their humanity and the fact that they are all trying so hard to manage in an awful situation

and the characters seem to have sooome sort of understanding of this too. not fully, because the characters dont tend to be 100% communicative, but when they hurt each other, it often makes EVERYONE uncomfortable. because these are the only people they have. these are their friends. and theyre all coping. but it doesnt change how much it affects them (best illustrated by ragathas lines at the start of ep 2 or gangles 'i love her, but after a while it gets kinda hard to tell how genuine shes actually being'). its not all like this, theres a good amnt of variety, but characters knowing this but not really knowing what to do about it is very painful in an effective way

(i think a subtle example of this is how zooble handles gangles situation in ep 4- they were so genuinely trying to help her because they care. but could tell as the day went on that oh, this is not working at all and its making things worse, and they leave gangle alone- something that very genuinely couldve been the moment she abstracted, because of the mask zooble gave her- and we dont get to have a super blatant explanation of zoobles thoughts on it, but they reach a fairly healthy conclusion about it that helps both of them, and i like that a lot, because on paper zooble could be placed at fault but the narrative doesnt dwell on it excessively, because thats not the point. i dont know if that tangent makes sense but i think about it sometimes. i think zooble wasnt 'to blame' but it was still a mistake, which is a hard balance to strike, and having them help at the end feels extremely effective at rounding it off!!!)

but like. in general its complicated balancing making characters in a bad situation act flawed because it can run the risk of seeming like the story is scolding them or blaming them for the situation theyre in, or like youre expected to not sympathize with them despite it (though the inverse also has complications- if characters in a bad situation never mess up, it feels unrealistic and hard to relate to, and can imply that their innocence is why whats happening to them is bad at all), but the show handles it so well

even the characters who are genuinely trying all try in different ways- some of them have similar outlooks or attitudes towards these thing but theres vital differences for ALL of them- sometimes it works and sometimes it doesnt. in fact some of the more painful mistakes characters have made in the show have come from them so genuinely trying (like the thing i mentioned w zooble, or basically Everything Ragatha Does, or pomnis first attempt at helping gangle, etc), which hits harder than if every mistake characters made had wholly selfish and cruel goals.

i mean, there is a selfishness to many of the characters' actions but imo not in a way thats not warranted. because all of them are in a horrible setting. its uncomfortable to watch characters be selfish. but it is a natural instinct to survive. its not the foundation of most of their actions, but when it is, its uncomfortable but hard to completely disparage them for in a way that makes you feel kinda conflicted

and like. it hurts to be doing your best and for that to make things worse, but its what happens often in the show. because no one in a bad situation is gonna handle it well. by the very nature of trying to survive something is gonna give, but it makes the themes of the show so much more powerful. that making sure the people around you dont feel unloved, cherishing them and finding meaning with others is no less important just because everyone is fucking up. it complicates things, for sure, but it doesnt make those characters exempt fromt this. theres a reason pomni tells gummigoo that she doesnt want "anyone" to feel like theyre nothing, and that kinger doesnt add ANY quallifiers to making sure people feel wanted and loved (not that i think either of them were thinking SUPER super hard, but it conveys smth from the perspective of the narrative

it gets complicated when you add in jax for sure, since i think on the surface he IS the exception to this concept- none of the characters like him, including pomni or kinger. but i think this is something thats gonna be examined further down the line, bc hes the main complicating factor in this reading of the show, but i feel like thats on purpose. hes universally disliked (and so is caine, in a different way) and his actions arent mistakes. they are him coping. the show has made it clear that he can be a complex person AND also a piece of shit. his actions dont detract from the fact that hes a person and the show reminds us of this. so it makes things so messy, but im genuinely super excited to see how the show examines that. where his character goes is, imo, going to be a massive piece of how this show fleshes out this concept

[sunfloweraro]

Sky’s still got it

Sky plays a certain soothing tune on his harp to help Bunny get some rest. It works a little too well.

Tags: @thatonecrazysidekick and @tiredgaytheatrekid

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Sky began to pluck the strings for one last song, his eyes slipping shut as he thought of his beloved back home, often troubled by nightmares after her journey, similar to the ones that plagued him. He would sit by their bed after a bad dream of hers, once he had comforted her and wiped her tears away with his thumb, and he would play her this song. Zelda would never fall asleep in the first play-through, rarely the second, but by the third, soft snores would always escape her despite her insistence that she wouldn’t be able to sleep again that night.

As Sky played the final note, letting it linger on the air sweetly, he opened his eyes, slow and calm. All around him, the Zora had fallen asleep, either leaning against each other or curled up on the floor. Four had drifted off against the railing, his relaxed features making him look much younger than he normally did. Time leaned back against the wall of the Domain, arms crossed and chin lowered to his chest, fast asleep.

And next to Sky, Bunny had slumped, his breathing deep and even as Sky had hoped it would be.

“Still got it,” Sky murmured to himself, pride glowing within his chest at having knocked out both their normally serious Smithy and the Old Man, and at having helped Bunny get some rest after such an eventful day.

“That ye do.” Sky jumped, raising a hand to his chest when he realised it was only Twilight, leaning against the railing of the stairs, staring down at him with a fanged smile. “Sorry, we didn’ mean tah scare ye.”

It was then Sky realised Wild stood across from Twilight, his slate out as he attempted to capture an image of Time, conked out against the wall. He snapped a couple before Twilight grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him away.

“That’s enough. We need tuh wake ‘em up”—Twilight jerked a thumb back at the sleeping Zora—“and get this lot in bed. We’ve a busy day ahead of us tomorrow and the last thing I wan’ is to listen to the Old Man bitch about ‘is sore back.”

Sky couldn’t help but snort, raising a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. Wild had no qualms with bursting into laughter, quickly achieving their task of waking the Zora with their sensitive hearing. Grumbles were sent his way, and they received a half-apologetic wave before they dispersed.

“Ah’ve got this one,” Twilight said, already crouching by Time. Rather than shaking him by the shoulder to wake him, Twilight carefully picked up Time, carrying him effortlessly in his arms like Time was a toddler who had fallen asleep at a family gathering. Sky couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the thought, turning back to Bunny and Four.

“How strong are you feeling today, my dear Champion?”

“We both know these two will weigh about the same,” Wild shot back. “Your choice.”

Rolling his eyes, Sky pushed himself to his feet, dusting off the front of his pants, a force of habit from the many times he had been knocked down on his quest that he couldn’t quite shake. He passed his harp to Wild to be stored in his slate for the moment. “We both know while our Smithy is small, he’s all muscle. I’ll ask again, how strong are you feeling?”

“In that case, I’m taking Bunny.”

“Ye jus’ wanna cuddle ‘im.”

“Perhaps,” Wild said as he scooped Bunny up into his arms, cradling him close like Hyrule and Twilight always did. “Oh. Oh, I see why you two want to carry him all the time. He’s so soft.”

Twilight grinned a fanged grin. “That ‘e is. Be careful with ‘im, yeah?”

Where he might normally take the words as offensive, Wild merely nodded, as if the weight and warmth of a real, breathing creature on his shoulder gave something to Twilight’s words he never heard when he was handling an item. “I will,” he promised.

“In the case,” Sky said, not at all upset he missed out on carrying Bunny when it meant he got to ensure his close friend slept somewhere comfortable and warm. He gathered Four in his arms, grateful he had thought to consider Four’s strength rather than assuming their Smithy would weigh next to nothing with his height. “Shall we?” Sky asked, holding Four closer, smiling when Four leaned his head against Sky’s chest in his sleep, hands reaching out to grasp at the front of his shirt.

“Let’s.”

[drivebypainter]

My favorite part of funny times in fiction is that for some of the characters it is straight angst.

Like for example, SQQ dies multiple times in SVSSS, acts like a fool in his attempts to hide his revival, and gets into lots of shenanigans. The silliness creates a lot of laughs for the audience. However, for characters like LBH, it is literally a 70K hurt no comfort fic.

Don't even get me started on YQY who in the background is like on his Mitski arc dealing with his poor Xiao Jiu whose qi deviation ruined any possible chance of YQY ever truly apolgising.

[helielune]

powder keg (full under the cut)

[cq-studios]

Unfinished Gravity Falls Fic

Inspired by NightDrawsThings - A Terrible Reunion This fic is an AU where, when Stan shows up after receiving Ford’s Postcard, Bill (in Ford’s body) answers the door. I might finish it at some point, might not. But it felt like a waste not to share it anywhere.

(Also please note that this is a one off thing. My blog is pretty much entirely KH, and I never really talk about GF here, so it's not worth coming to my blog looking for that. I apologize lol)

[This is copy and pasted from my doc, notes included. All notes are in square brackets]

“PLEASE COME! -FORD”

As soon as Stan read the postcard he’d packed up all his belongings (and hey, maybe one or two of the motel’s pillows or blankets… or both. Details? Who needs ‘em?) and drove.

20 hours. That’s how long it had taken. And now that he was here —in Gravity Falls, Oregon; in a white out snowstorm; less than a knock, just a door, away from his brother— he was half-tempted to turn back and head as far away from this boarded up cabin as his state bans would allow.

It’d been over 10 years since they’d last spoken. Hell, since they’d seen each other even. Since he lost him to that fancy-ass college, to that fancy-ass grant. Since he decided he didn’t need his help, that he didn’t need anyone’s help.

But this time the ‘perfect genius’ Stanford was the one that needed help.

Stan’s help.

His brother had been desperate enough to send him, the screw up, a postcard begging him to come. And unlike Stanford, he was actually going to offer a hand. Someone in this family had to have some loyalty.

(And godammit, he missed him. He missed him. He missed him. He missed him. He didn’t want to, but he missed having someone to go through hell with. He was so sick and tired of running around and away and hiding from everything alone.)

Stan took a breath in, freezing air rushing between his teeth.

C’mon Stanley. It’s not that hard. Be a man.

…

He asked you to come. He won’t bite.

Another inhale. A hesitantly raised hand. One tap, and the door swung open.

“Ah, STANLEY!” On the other side of the doorway his brother looked deranged. Eyes way too wide, a toothy smile showing way too much gum, and a voice way too loud.

Stan had seen a lot of druggies in his day (Sometimes desperate people need to go to shady places to get a bit of cash, okay?) and his brother looked like someone who just shot up a little bit of everything…

…kinda…

…not really, but he wasn’t sure how else to explain it.

It wasn’t like his brother to do drugs. The Stanford he’d known would get mad at him for so much as mentioning something as mild as pot. But the uneven shaving, the dishevelled hair, and the smell. God, the smell! (And, if even he, Stanley Pines, was bothered by it, it was bad.)

Maybe his brother had changed more than he’d thought.

“Come in, come in”

Sliding his hands into his jacket’s pockets, Stan walked through the door and past his brother. As soon as he was inside, Stanford closed the door behind him.

Three solid clunks told Stan he’d locked the door behind him as well.

Deadbolts.

Something about that set off alarm bells. A whole lot about this situation was setting off alarm bells. He was starting to wish he’d brought his bat in with him, just in case.

It was almost as cold in the cabin as it was outside (another alarm bell), but Stanford seemed used to it, so it was probably for some science-y reason he didn’t care about. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“So, uh, Poindexter, what’d you need me for?” Stan glanced over at his brother, but his gaze couldn’t help but drift around the room. The windows were boarded up and stuff was haphazardly thrown all over the place. There was also blood on the floor, he noticed. Not a lot, but enough to spark some concern.

“Ya sounded kinda frantic in the postcard. I’ve never seen you use that many capital letters in my life, and, well… I’ll be honest, you’re looking a bit, uhhhh… crazy”.

“CRAZY? I’VE NEVER FELT BETTER!” His brother said, well, yelled.

“Yeah…” Stan caught sight of a crossbow right by the door. Already loaded. Ready to grab at a moment’s notice. “Who’s after you, Ford?”

“After me? HA! No no, brother. I sent you that card so I could give you this very important message in person!” Somehow Stanford’s smile got even wider. His head tilted at an awkward, almost inhuman angle as he stepped closer.

“Alright,” Stan took a step back, eyes narrow, “what is it then?”

“Well, tomorrow I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake and I might not ever come back. I just wanted to let you know that I never loved you. That I’ve always known you were a big soul-sucking failure who would amount to nothing in life. And that I’ll always hold the fact you tried to drag me down with you against-“

Stan’s blood boiled. His hands clenched into fists so tight he swore he could feel his nails through his gloves. “You dragged me all the way out here for that!?”

How dare he. How dare Stanford make him drop everything- Drop everything. Pack up and drive. 20 hours. 20 goddamn hours. For this. Just to tell him something he already knew. Just to tell him exactly what those closed curtains told him over a decade years ago.

To give him hope just to snatch it away again.

And not only do that. Not only do that. NoNoNo. The drama queen himself had to dump a burden he couldn’t even begin process on him at the same time.

Suicide? He had to be kidding! With his giant cabin and his hoarded money and his perfect goddamn life?!

The shrill, mocking sound of laughter pierced his ears, and, before he knew it, his fist was flying at his brother’s face.

The laughter abruptly stopped.

Just as abruptly, Stanford’s whole body slumped, smile falling, eyes shutting, a bandaged hand rubbing where the punch had landed. His brother’s hand shifted upwards, under his glasses to rub his eyes.

Eyes that were alight with panic once they’d opened and landed on him. “Stanley!? Wha- When did you get here?”

[Maybe add more violence. He stops because Ford’s eye starts bleeding?]

Anyone with a brain could tell something had changed. Unfortunately, with anger still bubbling under his skin, Stan wasn’t quite ready to accept that, “[Blablabla you say that like you didn’t greet me at the damn door then call me names]”

Stanford cursed.

“What did he say to you? How long have you been here?” His brother practically lunged at him, frantically checking him over, “Did he hurt-“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What’re you-” Stan pushed his brother away. He was acting a completely different kind of crazy now, all this third person talk. A thought popped into his head and he gave a bit of a laugh. Well, if it wasn’t Stanford then, “What? You possessed by some kind of demon or something?”

…

“Really?”

…

“Well shit-“

Stan guessed the idea wasn’t exactly as absurd as he’d meant it to be. Stanford always lead the chase after whatever cryptid, or supernatural what-have-you, of the week when they were younger. While he’d distanced himself from all the weirdness as he got older, it made sense that his brother would keep diving right into it (and pick up some straggler along the way, apparently).

It definitely made a lot more sense than drugs.

Stanford wouldn’t meet his gaze, kind of glaring off to the side with a wounded sort of look his eyes. It was a vulnerable expression. It was trying so very hard not to be, but Stan saw it. Even though he was, admittedly, a bit rusty, that didn’t erase the years of experience. He knew his brother.

“So what? You call me over to deal with it like those punks from school?” Hand on his shoulder, Stan wound his arm. He even tossed out a couple mock punches for good measure.

That got a broken, almost laugh out of Stanford, “I believe it would take a lot more than a few punches to get rid of him”.

“I believe you’re just underestimating the power of a few punches,” He cracked his knuckles and Stanford winced at the sound. “A punch got him out of you just a few minutes ago“.

“Temporarily, you woke-“ His brother grit his teeth and pressed a hand against his face. “Ugh, Stanley, I don’t have time for these games. I’ve made a grave mistake”.

“Like getting possessed by a demon”.

“Well, yes… but this is worse than even that.” Stanford grabbed a mug of, what he assumed, was old, practically frozen coffee, up off the ground and downed the whole thing.

Yeesh. Stan had been pretty damn low, but never quite that low.

His brother turned back to him (wearing an expression way too serious for someone who’d just done… that…), “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe”.

If he didn’t have the context he did, Stan would’ve protested. He’d been around the world. He’d seen all sorts of things, but he’d never seen demonic possession, let alone something worse than that. Maybe he really wouldn’t believe it.

He held his tongue as his brother led him to a scuffed up (bloodied) door and inputted a code (top right, second down from top left, top left, third down from top left, third down from top right. A ‘C’, basically). After a quick scan of Stanford’s eye, the door opened with a hiss.

He followed his brother down the stairs behind it.

—————————

“This is what’s worse than the whole ‘demonic possession’ thing?”

Yeah, sure, Stan had lost track of what his brother was saying the moment he started using all that science jargon, but he’d got the gist of it.

Portal. Multiverse. ‘Grave danger’. Yeah, yeah.

Maybe he was crazy, but he still thought being literally possessed was worse.

“Stanley, if this portal gets activated it could destroy our entire world.” “The instructions on how to operate it are divided into my 3 Journals. I’ve hidden two already, but you’re the only person I can trust to take this one.” “Remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat? Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can!”

“You get me to come back into your life after over 10 years, I find out you’re possessed by a demon, and now you’re telling me to get as far away from you as possible!?” “what are you gonna do, huh?! If I go to the edge of the world and hide this stupid book? You’ll still be possessed. Your doomsday device will still be here. What’s your plan, Sixer!?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“What does it matter to me?!” “If you want me to hide your book across the world for you, the least you can do is tell me what your plan is!”

[Stanford gets all indignant]

“Fine. I’m going to head back over the mountains to the cave where I first summoned him. The native people had written about him all over the walls. There must be some hint on how to defeat him there.”

“Like hell you are,”

“What?”

“Listen here, wise-guy, if you think I’m gonna let you do that all on your own, you’re even crazier than you look”

“Stanley-“

“Look, I may not be a genius, but I know what fucking torture looks like, Stanford.” Stan had been through it. Stan had dealt it out. The bandages. The bloodstains. The eye bags. The haunted looks. His brother was a walking corpse. Did he think he would notice? [<- change to dialogue?]

Just let me help you, you ungrateful-

Stanford faltered.

Nono. None of this ‘one sided’ business. That’s not how this worked. When Stan pushed, his brother pushed back. That’s how they did things. That’s how they always used to do things.

But Stanford faltered and, in spite of everything, Stan felt his anger start to fizzle.

“Please, Stanley. Just take the journal and go.” “I’d rather not involve you any more than I have to”.

The words burned.

He already knew that. He did. Everything about this made that very clear. He wasn’t really wanted here.

Didn’t mean he wanted to hear it.

[Add a better transition here]

“Wait,”

“Hm?”

“Of course! How didn’t I think of this sooner?” Standford flipped through the pages of the journal, placing a hand on his chin, “if we place moonstones around the cabin… and then… all we’d need is… ugh, unicorn hair.”

“You lost me”

“Unicorn hair, combined with moonstones and some mercury, it can create a barrier that could keep Cipher out.”

[Transition again]

“There’s seriously something you can do right now, and you haven’t tried it?!” “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Stanley, it’s not that simple. In order for the spell to work, you need unicorn hair. And in order to get unicorn hair, you need someone pure of heart”

“[Or you could just take it by force]”

“[I’d hate to see what a unicorn would do to someone who tried to fight them head on]”

“[I have a bat in my car]”

“Despite how irritating they are- or, maybe because of it, actually, unicorns are endangered” “in fact the one I spoke to claims to be the last of her kind. At least of the North American variety.” “For that reason, and that reason alone, I must ask you to refrain from killing one.”

“Fine, we’ll stick to the ‘pure of heart’ thing.”

“C’mon, I’m doing this whether you like it or not. If you want a say you’re gonna have to come with me”

[Yippie Unicorn Hair is the solution. And it’s in journal 1 so they don’t need to break into an elementary school about it! “Can only be obtained by a Pure Good hearted person” Ford thinks Unicorns are dangerous maybe? That’s why they go on the side quest. But then at the same time he doesn’t want to involve anyone else. That’s probably why he never did this actually]

—————————

[Oops they’re a bit stranded until the snow stops. Bill possession stuff! Yay!]

“The code. I know you were paying attention, saving it for later,” “I know all about you Stan Pines. You could get in there no problem. Think about it. Opening that door (or Activating that portal) is a small price to pay to free your brother. It’s certainly a better deal for you than getting that unicorn hair” “Once he puts that spell around this cabin, he’ll never leave it. Do you really think he’ll wanna keep you around? You’ll be back at square one, won’t you? On the run. Alone.” “But if you scratch my back, I can scratch yours, Stanley. I have the power to give you anything you want. Fame! Fortune! I can even get rid of that Rico guy for ya, the whole nine yards! All you’d have to do is use those eyes of yours to get me into that room.”

—————————

“You still have the Diablo?”

Stan gave her an affectionate rap on the hood, “Hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it”.

Stanford gave him a skeptical look at that.

(Okay, so maybe his Diablo had broken, one, or two, or several times. And hey, maybe he had to fix her up, one, or two, or several times too. But that car had been through hell and back with him. He’d be damned if he ever got rid of her.)

(‘Til death did them part, or whatever.)

“You coming, or what?”

“If I were to, you’d expect me to sit where, exactly?”

“Oh sor-ry, when I got the sketchy post card I didn’t take the time to dump everything out of my car for my princess of a brother,” and now that he thought of it, he flipped up the sun blinders. That old picture of him and Ford after that boxing tournament was still on there. Didn’t want his brother thinking he was sentimental or something. “Just toss the stuff in the back, your highness. I’m not your servant”.

Stanford opened the door and as he did he must’ve just noticed the mess in the back because, “Dear god, Stanley. Do you keep everything you own in here?”

“Have to save up some cash, so I’m giving the whole ‘minimalist life style’ thing a shot,” “been a pretty good business strategy, profits are higher than ever!”

It wasn’t that much of a lie…

At least, not if you ignored the fact that pretty much any money he made had to go towards paying off Rico and his goons.

Stanford’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t make anymore comments on the state of Stan’s car. He just silently moved the stuff to the back and finally sat himself down in the passenger’s seat.

Once his brother shut the door, Stan turned the key, shifted gears, and started making his way out of the driveway.

On his way in, the storm had stopped him from really being able to see anything other than the road (and, well, maybe the road wasn’t the most visible either, but no harm no fowl). Point was, now that it was possible for him to be aware of his surroundings, he noticed a hell of a lot more “No Trespassing” signs.

Stan was a fan of all sorts of excessive things; excessive spending, excessive buying, excessive advertising, [a fourth thing], excessive amounts of examples. But this wasn’t a good kind of excessive. He wondered if it was because of the demon or if his brother had been so desperate to keep people away even before that.

They pulled out onto the road and Stan made sure to go the same way he had before. He had passed through the town during the storm and he figured that’d be the place to start looking.

“So, ‘someone of pure good heart’, huh?” Stan glanced over at his brother, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “You’ve been here longer than me, got any ideas?”

“Not particularly”.

“C’mon! How long have you lived here? You’re telling me you never took the time to scout out babes?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” “There were more pressing things to focus on-”

There were always ‘more pressing things to focus on’ for Stanford when this subject came up (except at their prom, but even then, that had taken a lot of poking and prodding and coaching). [Something he’d showed interest in the idea of having a relationship, maybe bring up the kissing robot lol] but he’d never actually seemed really interested in, or hell even attracted to anyone… at least as far as Stan could tell.

It had mostly been teasing, but for whatever reason some part of him had been serious. It had been over a decade. Maybe he thought it’d be different? That he’d grown out of it? He wasn’t sure.

The indifference was almost comforting though. A familiar trait despite their years apart.

“Though, I suppose I did date a siren briefly. Her song didn’t work on me, and we both found it rather fascinating. I was able to learn quite a lot about their culture… Before she inevitably tried to eat me alive, of course.”

“Ha! Nice, Poindexter. You sure know how to pick ‘em,” Stan said, as if he had any idea. He gave his brother a good, supportive whack on the back too, and Stanford basically shrivelled at his touch.

“Keep both hands on the wheel please”.

Or, you know, maybe he’d ‘basically shrivelled’ because the car had swerved. One of life’s greatest mysteries.

[Don’t forgot that Ford is very paranoid at this point. He is not happy that Stan is trying to rope someone else in. Stan gets frustrated with Ford constantly going back and forth on involving other people. Like if he doesn’t want to involve anyone why can’t Stan can just beat the horses up like he wanted to initially? They compromise, Stan agreeing to discretely cutting the Unicorn’s hair when they’re asleep.]

“Sixer, if you don’t want to get anyone else involved why are we even doing this?” “You’re so busy worrying about that damn demon it won’t even matter if we find someone pure of heart”

“That’s it, we’re doing this my way”

“[Protest]”

“What’re you? The cops?” “Okay, okay. I won’t kill it. If we wait until it’s asleep, we can sneak in and cut its hair. Quick in and out. No one needs to know. That better?”

—————————

[A campfire scene? Bonding then Bill takes over? They’re camping out right by the unicorns waiting for them to sleep.]

Stan had heard that falling back into old patterns with someone you care about was easy, natural even. He was sure there was all sorts of things disproving that, but none of them were as obvious as the awkwardness between him and Stanford in this moment.

They’d spent the whole day together —and he’d felt pretty okay about it, all things considered— but here, sitting on a stump in the middle of nowhere, watching the fire, he didn’t know what to say.

He’d never been so aware of much time had passed. There were so many stories he could tell, so many stories he was sure Stanford could tell, and yet both of them were silent.

There was no obvious distraction to cling on to, just the two them. And where do you even begin?

…

The fire crackled between them, flickering and fluttering, slowly melting the snow around it.

Stan was able to keep himself comfortable but past the flame he could see his brother holding his coat closed, shivering.

…

“Don’t you have a warmer jacket? You’re making me cold just looking at you”.

“[I’m alright].” “[it’s easier for me to stay up this way]”

Stan could tell you from experience that was not the case.

“Some sleep might do you some good,” “hard to do a job like this when your accomplice is so tired he’s tripping over his own feet.”

“No-!” Stanford practically yelped in protest, then, sheepishly, he cleared his throat, “No, I can’t”.

“If you’re worried about [the demon… blabla I can keep watch. I have experience]”

“It’s doesn’t work like that it’s-“ “I can’t fall asleep. As soon as I do, he’ll take control.”

“So, what’s up with the whole demon thing anyway?”

Outwardly, Stanford didn’t really acknowledge the question. He just pulled his jacket tighter around himself and stared into the forest. He was going back and forth about something in that brain of his though. Stan could tell. The flitting of his eyes. The tensing and twitching of his expression.

Then, eventually, “We made a deal, him and I”.

“He’d convinced me that progress on the portal was too slow. I was already putting everything I had in, and one night, he came to me with an offer: I let him control me as I sleep, and he could keep working on the portal so we wouldn’t fall behind. It’d seemed like a no-brainer, at the time. He was a-“ Stanford cut himself off, clearly taking time to choose his next words carefully. They came out slowly, stilted, “a trusted ally”.

There was more of a story there.

[More conversation whoooo! Eventually Ford drifts off]

“Will saving him now really make up for what you did?”

[Insert Unicorn heist here]

The sun had begun to rise as Stan and Ford stumbled out of the ruins, each with a loch of unicorn hair in their hand.

“Haha! We actually did it!” Ford cheered, eyes brightest Stan had seen since he’d arrived in Gravity Falls.

“Damn right we did!” Stan held up his hand for a high-six, and his brother delivered with a satisfying smack. Giddy at their success, he tossed an arm over Ford’s shoulder and couldn’t help but call upon a chant he hadn’t uttered in years, “PINES! PINES! PINES!”

There were no words to describe the joy he felt when his brother joined in.

[Notes on Bill’s train of thought here: At first when Stanley shows up Bill is trying to make him uncomfortable, make him angry, make him want to leave and never come back. When this doesn’t work he shifts gears and tries to play on Stan’s insecurities to get him to open the portal door. This is something only Stan and an unpossessed Stanford are able to do because of the eye scanner.]

[quaranmine]

i think planes are magic because there's something about being trapped in a metal tube in the sky with no wifi that consistently forces me to make progress in writing

[t-u-i-t-c]

zangetsu gaiden is peak actually

[mariatesstruther]

okay but a fic following tommy in jackson as he watches sarah’s look-alike grow up and have her baby. maybe he develops his own relationship with this girl and her kid, and it helps him deal with losing sarah??????? perhaps????? stay with me!

like we see how hard it was for joel to see her just once in 1x06. assuming tommy’s been in jackson for years, which i do, he has probably watched this young woman grow into an adult, getting struck with that pain of distant familiarity every single time he sees her. i imagine it would lowkey torture him until he truly confronts his grief over sarah and the life she could’ve lived

and imagine when she—im gonna name her kiara bc i hate when characters don’t have names—gets pregnant. tommy has to watch as kiara’s belly gets bigger and bigger, watch as the jackson community frets over her hand and foot because jackson takes extra special care of it’s pregnant residents, watch from the sidelines as kiara gets a future that sarah will never have while looking just like her

but THEN maybe he gets to know her a little bit???? maybe kiara knows he does housework and eventually asks maria if anyone can help fix-up and baby-proof her little two-bedroom house to prepare for the little one. maria knows tommy would be the perfect man for the job, but she also knows that he keeps careful distance from kiara on purpose

she sees the way his shoulders tense and his easy expression drops every time she’s in his line of sight. she saw how one time, when kiara had come over to talk to maria while she was sitting with him, tommy could barely handle looking at her up close: he ended up staring at his plate and clearing it—even the squash medley, which she knows he fucking hates—until he had reason to leave the hall completely.

but there truly is no one else she would rather help kiara; the only other person that does housework as good as tommy is fuckin jacob, and jacob is seth’s best friend, which means he’s a lowkey bigoted asshole that will only do “favors” for maria if he gets something in return. she, frankly, doesn’t want him anywhere near kiara. so maria still talks to tommy about it, and because he’s the most selfless loving man she’s ever met, he agrees. they talk about backup plans and what tommy should do if he gets too triggered—they’ve been working at distress tolerance and detecting when his mind is going fuzzy, so he knows to get straight to their home and wait for maria when it happens. privately, maria talks to kiara and tells her that tommy is still dealing with some stuff that triggers him and might need breaks once in ahwile; she knows to go get maria immediately if this happens

so tommy helps kiara out, and along the way they get to talking and being more friendly with each other. kiara reveals that she’s extremely nervous to be a mom, that she’s doing it alone (the asshole that was with her split jackson when he foundnout because men still be menning in their apocalypse). she tells tommy that she’s never been more scared to do anything in her whole life, and she lived alone as a young girl in FEDRA-run QZ

and suddenly, tommy realizes he has had almost this exact conversation before. with joel. he remembers standing by and watching joel freak out over baby-proofing their place, raving and ranting: how am i supposed to do this, tommy? we have too many fucking cabinets—look at all of these fucking cabinets! aye, im gonna ruin her. and tommy had been speechless in the face of all that fear. he knows how scared they both were, and he knows what he would’ve wanted to hear then, too. with the gift of time and wisdom, he finally knows what to say

so he comforts kiara, and by some miracle, it actually works. he tells her about joel raising sarah alone, and how terrifying it all seemed, right up until she actually got to them: he tells her how all that terror turned into love the moment he held that little ray of sunshine in his arms. he tells her about how sarah used to be what he and joel called a boo-boo magnet, constantly falling over and knocking into shit, always having bumps, scrapes, and bruises as a result. most importantly, he told kiara, she was always just fine: as long as she felt loved, sarah was always just fine. kiara’s baby would be just fine, too

and this convo changes kiara’s whole perspective, her whole vibe. tommy see’s the difference in her now, when he spots her in the dining hall or walking across town with a hand on her belly, tense with excitement instead of anxiety. he feels the difference in himself, too: he’s no longer struck with the abstract pain of remembrance as he sees her, now. he just feels honest friendship, true familiarity, and a rush of fond protectiveness for her that reminds him of the way he felt for sarah. it doesn’t hurt, or at least not the same way. it feels good, knowing kiara as kiara, not as the ghost of his niece. it feels right

she always makes sure to stop and talk to him when they cross paths, asking him about his work around town (or teasing him about he and maria, because at this point they’re trying to keep it lowkey but. kiara knows. talia knows. half of jackson suspects it and kiara wants the inside scoop okay so SPILL tommy just tell me!!!!!). somehow, tommy has developed a good relationship with the girl he thought he’d never have the guts to speak to

when kiara is on her last couple weeks of pregnancy, mostly bedridden and definitely ready to give birth, she asks tommy to stop by once every few days to have lunch or dinner with her. it always suprises him, but he always goes. they talk mostly about raising children: how different it seems to be post-2003, how scared kiara still is even despite her new confidence, how tumultuous sarah’s first few months were. he realizes, later, that he hasn’t talked about sarah this much to anyone but maria since she’s passed. he finds their conversations ease the ache in him more than avoiding kiara ever could’ve

when kiara has the baby, tommy accidentally becomes a quasi-godfather-uncle-grandparent without even having been asked. it’s clear that, from their time together, kiara is very fond of him—judging from the way her baby, kelsey, always settles down and stares at him in wonder whenever he’s around, it’s clear she likes him too. when kelsey becomes old enough to smile, she’s never ever around tommy without grinning and giggling, enamored by his silly face and silly voice and silly mustache, which she’s always trying to pull off. when kelsey becomes old enough to walk, kiara can’t bring her anywhere near tommy without the toddler trying her best to baby-sprint over to him. more than once, she’s fallen smack-down onto her face and gotten right back up, arms outstretched to tommy as she continues determinedly to toddle over. when kelsey becomes old enough to speak, she’s constantly calling for him and babbling to him when kiara finally brings her over. kelsey can’t even really pronounce her t’s until she’s three, so for awhile she calls tommy “mommy,” and kiara thinks it’s hilarious. she’s called mama anyway, so it doesn’t really matter to her that her baby calls this semi-random grown man mommy. everytime, it makes tommy want to simultaneously laugh and cry

by the time joel shows up, kelsey is six and not-so-obsessed with tommy anymore. her and kiara still join him and maria for dinner at least once a month, and kelsey has distant memories of calling tommy mommy, then uncle mommy, then finally naming him tim-tam-tommy when she turned four, the nickname for him that still stuck. he thinks about warning joel about her, when they talk in the bar, because he sure as hell could’ve used a goddamn warning—but the conversation goes left, so they never get there.

when joel sees kiara and kelsey for the first time, it’s hits him as hard as it once did tommy

tagging @ameerawrites because i feel like u always indulge in tommy trauma brainrot with me and @clickergossip bc this idea started on tommy day :)

[raeverie-devlogging]

Stares off into the distance. Surely suddenly spawning a "reasonably short" VN idea the literal day before the game jam starts can only bode well in every sense of the matter

[alltimefail-sims]

If I don't post anything sims-related in a minute please know I'm not going anywhere and I will have original content soon, I'm just trying to fight my ADHD demons and all the distractions it loves (such as playing TS4 and mindless timeline scrolling) so I can make progress on the book I've been trying to write for a little over a year now <3 <3

[kaizokuseb]

i reread my biggest posted fanfic last night and then went and found the chapters i was working on before i quit years ago. it's weird because i have basically an entire finished chapter and another almost finished, but i was never quite happy with them, so they're just sitting there. i don't have any desire to write more, but part of me wants to post it because i think i would like that if i was subscribed to a fic i really liked? i also reread the comments and some of them were so enthusiastic, i imagine they would like more even though it isn't finished.

idk. i did really enjoy reading it again, so maybe i can work up the motivation to write at least another chapter. it would be a very different ending than i planned and would probably feel rushed, but maybe that's okay

[smokelesseyes]

-Me, having an idea for a Jayvik fic that focuses on Jayce angst-

Me: Oh I can write that, I definitely have a better feel for Jayce’s character.

-Me, planning it out, slowly realizing that in order for it to be read as intended, I have to write the majority from Viktor’s POV who I am NOT confident in writing at ALL-

Me: Oh. Oh, this might actually kill me.

Anyways I’ve outlined 6 chapters so far, have character arcs written out, the overall outline of the story itself, and characters to include. I have never gone so in-depth when it comes to writing BUT my goal this year is to write a long-form story and it just so happens that Jayvik is the hyperfixation I fell on that will be the focus.

So if you see like, a 100,000 word Jayvik fanfiction a couple months from now that is convoluted and sad, know that it is me 😄😭

[randomly--accessed--memories]

You know who I need to develop? Husk.

[kira-light0]

Happy first Trapper Tuesday of the new year!

Edit: Ok, I've caved in to my own thoughts and removed his face. It just wasn't sitting right with me, but I didn't want to delete the post, and I didn't have the patience to redraw it, so I've edited it out. (However I will be leaving my original tags which might allow you to visualize what was wrong with his face if you're curious). Please now enjoy a faceless Trapper.

(Reference under the cut)

[darkandstormydolls]

I’ve kind of lost my writing mojo over the summer (I have still been thinking about my characters and considering things of course but I couldn’t seem to get anything written down), but this evening I was feeling like “eh I could write” and then say down for over an hour and wrote a good half (probably more honestly) pf a scene that has been languishing as a five word idea in my extremely rough outline for literally months

Thank you, writing fairies, for smiling upon me today