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ckret2 · 1 month

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Chapter 48 of human Bill Cipher slowly dying inside for 24 hours straight with no signs of stopping anytime soon:

The Eclipse: Part 6

Over a month since his death and after nearly 50 chapters, at long last, the moment you've all been waiting for:

Bill has a complete physical and mental breakdown.

Unfortunately there's only one person available to deal with it.

They landed near where they'd camped last night. While the Pines climbed out, Bill stared at the sharp gray rocks beneath the cliff. The blood was gone. It took him a moment to process that Ford was speaking: "We can pack our tents, return Tate's boat, and borrow a phone to call Stanley for a ride."

Bill numbly climbed onto land.

Their tents were in disarray, but more or less where they'd left them the night before. While Ford and Dipper dealt with the largest tent and cleaned up the campsite, Bill methodically attempted to fold up the tent he'd slept in.

He couldn't make sense of it. There were too many plastic rods with too many little joints and too many fabric flaps, he couldn't parse the geometry of it. This should be easy, he'd watched Dipper assemble the tent last night, how hard could it be to do the same in reverse?

But it wasn't working. His hands were shaking. The joints were bending wrong, the joints were bending in directions that shouldn't exist, in impossible dimensions, shrinking and expanding perversely as they twisted in alien foreshortening—

Bill let out a gasp so loud and sharp that Ford and Dipper immediately whipped around to face him. Ford asked, "What is it?"

Bill couldn't speak. He just stared down at his awful human legs.

"Bill?"

Voice very far away—but impressively calm and flat—Bill said, "I have to sit down."

"Why? What happened?"

"My legs aren't working. I can't feel them."

His knees buckled. He tried to grip them to keep them straight, but found only one arm responded. "And—my left arm." He dropped to his knees in the mud.

And suddenly he was the center of attention, two humans moving around him in a dizzying flurry, all grotesque limbs and fabric: "Hey, are you okay?" "What happened? Are you injured?" "Think we should get help?" "Maybe he needs food—"

Too much. He closed his eyes, but there were still fingers on his arm and shoulders and back. He swatted at them with his functioning hand. "Don't touch me don't touch me DON'T TOUCH ME!" His shriek startled the birds from a nearby tree. He attempted to bite somebody, he wasn't sure who—this was what he'd been reduced to, no legs, no strength, no power, he couldn't even protect himself from being touched, all he had left was his teeth—but he misjudged the distance and bit only air. But it was enough to make the humans back off, shrinking into the distance.

"Don't touch me. Stop trying to move me. Don't ask me why I can't move. I don't know. This—this—" he gestured frantically at his body. He was moving too fast, talking too fast. "This—corpse—human body—is stupid. It's just being stupid! I need to sit. Leave me alone, I need to sit. I need to sit, and—look at nothing, and breathe." He was talking far too fast, breathing too fast. "I need it so much. Go away."

No matter how hard Bill tried to imagine the humans spontaneously ceasing to exist, they did not go away. Ford knelt in front of him, studying his face. "Try to smile."

Bill forced a smile. "Good. Good, good. Positive thinking."

"No. I'm trying to see if you're having a stroke." He sat back. "Your face muscles are still working symmetrical."

Bill decided to keep smiling anyway. He thought it might help. Happy happy happy.

"You say your can't feel your legs."

"Yes."

"Or your left arm."

"Yes."

"Did you feel any pain beforehand? Tingling in the limbs, or...?"

"No—no, no. They were working fine and then they were gone. They just—disappeared." Bill laughed. The laugh went on too long and sounded too high and too nervous.

Ford nodded. "Okay. Drink this."

A water bottle materialized in Bill's field of vision. It took a couple of tries for Bill to manipulate his hand through three-dimensional space to grasp it. He shakily drank as much as he could. It tasted like drowning.

"Dipper, run to the bait shop and call for an... The nearest hospital is at least twenty miles outside Gravity Falls' weirdness barrier, Bill can't get there. Call for a doctor and I'll stay here to—"

"No," Bill snapped, "no no no, don't call a doctor. I don't want—" He didn't want to be seen like this. He didn't want somebody picking him up and helping him into an ambulance like he was too weak to move himself. He didn't want Mabel to know. Bad enough Ford and the brat did. "I don't need it. I'm fine."

"Fine?!" Ford gestured at him in disbelief. "Three fourths of your limbs aren't functioning—!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Something's wrong with the body. It's got nothing to do with me. I'm fine, I'm just in it." He shut his eyes and tried to breathe. "Just—just let me sit."

"Let you sit and then do what?"

"Give me time. It'll come back. Don't tell anyone and—stop looking at me."

There was silence. Bill didn't want to open his eyes. He heard Ford stand and walk away.

####

"Do you think he's faking?" Dipper murmured.

Ford hated that that always had to be the first question. "I can't imagine what he'd stand to benefit from pretending he can't walk." Bill had been desperate to get back inside the last two days. If he'd now decided to—what? maybe take advantage of his freedom to try to escape?—then why hadn't he done that when they got separated in the lake, or in the caves where Bill could see in the dark and Ford hadn't known how to call the geodites? If he was trying to separate Ford and Dipper from each other so he could kill them one by one—why hadn't he just let them die?

It was hard not to think about how he really had saved them for no clear reason.

"He's spent two very stressful days hardly eating, sleeping poorly, and hiking through half the mountain. I'd say he needs food and rest. And probably more water." He'd gulped down two thirds of Ford's water bottle.

"Seriously? He can't feel his legs, is—is that normal for like a day without food and sleep?" Dipper asked. "People can go longer than that, right? You've gone longer."

"It's not a 'normal' symptom of exhaustion, hunger, or dehydration. But I think he'll fight us if we try to get medical help. Let's deal with the immediate problems first and—see where we are then. Even if it doesn't help, at least then he won't be paralyzed and starving."

Dipper nodded uncertainly. "What do we do if he's dying?"

The boy catastrophized at the drop of a hat. In a way, Ford supposed it was a good thing—having been through his fair share of catastrophes, he knew it helped to be prepared—but Dipper was so young. "Get him to a doctor as soon as we can; and, if that isn't enough... hope we're lucky." In other words: hope Bill stayed dead.

Dipper nodded again. "What's our strategy if Weirdmageddon restarts? Maybe... I wonder if that's what the Axolotl was trying to warn me—"

"Lunch first," Ford said. "Then we can plan for the apocalypse."

####

Bill knew they were going to make him move. They hated him. They would parade him through the streets to make a mockery of him, look at the alien loser in a malfunctioning corpse, washed-up puppeteer who can't even control a meat marionette, he's already dead and you can make his corpse in the forest a tourist destination—

"Okay," Ford said. "We'll give it an hour. Dipper's heading to town to get some proper food and call the shack."

The shack. Like a prison cell with an open door and a black hole inside trying to suck him back in. "Don't tell them—"

Dipper said, "I won't, I'm just letting them know we're not dead. And that we'll call again in a couple of hours."

No doubt so that Bill couldn't kill them without the shack knowing something was wrong. "Right."

"Do you... want any specific food?"

"Not hungry."

There was a pause. "Right. I'll just... grab something."

Bill didn't care what he did. As Dipper left the sound of each footstep was like a knife in Bill's ears. He just needed to breathe, needed to breathe and be normal and feel normal and happy—

Something soft landed on his head.

Bill opened his eyes.

There was an unzipped, slightly moist sleeping bag draped over his head and around his shoulders; and Ford standing several feet away, hands awkwardly clasped behind his back, looking somewhat embarrassed with himself.

Bill said, "What."

Ford cleared his throat. "It. Helped when you were, ah... had a hair cut. I thought—it can't hurt."

It took Bill a moment to figure out what he meant. "Oh." The towel. Ford had seen him hide under a towel. Right.

Ford winced and muttered, "Maybe it can hurt."

Bill croaked, "What."

It wasn't until he tried to speak that Bill realized he was crying so hard he couldn't breathe. His vision swam, his shoulders shook, his breath came in sharp hitches—no no no no, that wasn't okay, not in front of— Stop, stop, stop.

He covered his eyes with his hand. The water bottle slid off his thighs and spilled on the ground. Between gasping breaths, Bill forced out, "This's—this is—good. Good."

"How is it...?"

"It's a—hint. This—it's—prob... probably... ps-psycho—som—ss—"

"Psychosomatic?"

"Mm. Mhmm." He tried to get in a deeper breath and failed. "'Sgreat. Means—no inj—injuries. Flesh is—fine."

"So you're..." Ford's footsteps came closer, "saying it's psychological—?"

"No!" Bill let out a hysterical laugh. "I'm FINE! 'M happy. It's the body. It's—some hormone—hunger—exhaustion—just... s-synapses—and neurotrans—transmm—tr—"

"Easy. You can barely talk." He heard Ford sit next to him, felt the sleeping bag shift as he brushed against it. "Try to focus on breathing—"

"WHAT do you THINK I'm TRYING to—" Bill ineffectively pummeled Ford through the sleeping bag. "Move! Move, move, move! Don't t—touch—" He let out a frustrated scream that morphed into a humiliating sob, and had to clap his functioning hand over his mouth to smother the sound. He was not this body; he was a separate thing locked inside the body. This body was a prison, this body was a punishment. The legs didn't work, because the body was doing something to him. These weren't his tears, his grief, his fear. They were the body's. Which hormone was at fault? What could he blame other than himself?

He felt Ford's weight shift away from his side. "Okay, okay," Ford said. "Just... take it easy."

Bill socked him again. "Don't t-talk to me like a horse." He covered his eyes.

He didn't mean to risk his life for Ford.

Former friend, false worshiper, useless pawn, now enemy. Bill had just seen him floating out there and he'd done it—and he'd forgotten he could die.

In the Nightmare Realm he had saved his friends from peril billions of times before, because it was so easy for him, powers like a god, to see someone he was fond of and casually pluck them out of harm's way. It had been billions upon billions of years since Bill had been vulnerable to physical harm. He'd seen Ford in danger and he'd done what he always did and he'd forgotten he could have died.

He could have died. Eternally, permanently, last chance—he could have died.

And it would have been for nothing.

Bill was selfish. He had effortlessly saved friends billions of times but he'd also casually let them die just as many—assuming he didn't kill them himself. He saved friends because he liked them; but he didn't put himself out for ex-friends. Ford hadn't had one nice thing to say to Bill in years. Bill would never lure Ford back under his sway. Ford's survival endangered Bill's. But Bill had saved him anyway. He hadn't even stopped to think.

He didn't know. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to think about saving the human hellbent on killing him, he didn't want to think about almost dying, he didn't want to think about how peaceful it had been floating under the water, how easy it would have been to open his mouth and breathe in—he didn't want to think. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to empty his mind. He couldn't meditate through his hitching breaths and the way his stomach ached from struggling to keep his sobs silent, and his legs and left arm were gone.

He was fine. He was happy. He'd always been happy. Happy happy happy.

His entire body shook with sobs. He was dizzy—gasping between sobs for air he couldn't get. He was so lightheaded and crying so hard he couldn't stay upright. The edges of his vision went dark.

Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders and tugged him against his side. He held him up until Bill was too exhausted to cry anymore.

####

There was zipper noise, then a sound like shifting vinyl. Bill cracked his fingers apart to peer through them. Ford had unrolled the portable chessboard and was setting it up. "What?"

"It looks like we'll be here a while," Ford said, addressing his statement to the chessboard rather than to Bill. "It's... something else to focus on."

Bill wasn't sure what the emotion clawing its way through the grief-stricken haze in his mind was, but it felt very similar to relief. He nodded. "S—smart. I'm already—getting bored." His cheeks itched, his eyes burned, and his head was throbbing. As Ford set up the board, Bill closed his eyes and tried again to force himself to breathe more evenly. He was still dizzy from hyperventilating. Embarrassing—even a comatose human can breathe, and Bill couldn't even get that right. "Black?"

"I know."

Of course he knew. Bill always chose black. "First?"

"Fine." And Ford also knew, despite white traditionally getting the first move, Bill always moved first.

Bill waited in numb silence for Ford to finish setting up the board and sit on the other side. Moving almost automatically, Bill picked up a queen, hopped it over his line of pawns—

"Play it properly," Ford said irritably. "I put up with your cheating and lying for years, I'm not putting up with any more."

Bill gave Ford a look that he intended to be deeply offended, but immediately realized was probably just wet and pathetic. "Really? Now?"

Ford at least had the good sense to look a tad embarrassed, but he said, "I didn't set up the board to watch you move random pieces around like an untrained kindergartener."

"Three of my limbs don't work, Stanford."

"Are you suggesting your right arm doesn't remember the proper rules of chess?"

He wondered what Ford would say if he said yes. "I have a headache."

"You're probably dehydrated." Ford rummaged around in his backpack and offered over another bottle of water.

Bill reluctantly accepted it. He probably was dehydrated. "You owe me your life."

Ford fixed him with an unimpressed look. "You're trying to cash in a life debt... so you can cheat at chess?"

Bill opened his mouth; paused as he slowly thought that over; and dissolved into broken, hysterical giggles. "I don't know w-what I'm trying to do." He covered his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to steady his breathing again.

Ford sighed. He waited until Bill had regained some control over himself; and then he said, "You can make up one new rule."

Bill considered the offer. "Total, or per game?"

"Per game."

Deep breath. "Fine. But I'm not telling you what it is. You have to guess it."

Ford considered it. "Three conditions."

"Mm?"

"One: you have to share what the rule was at the end of the game. If any of your illegal moves didn't conform to that rule, you automatically lose."

"Mm."

"Two: any rule you come up with has to apply to both sides of the board equally. Nothing that only advantages you or disadvantages me," Ford said. "Three: if I can figure out what your new rule is before the game's over, I can use it too. Obviously, you lose if I ask you about the rule and you lie."

Bill mulled over Ford's terms. His head was so foggy, he'd already forgotten the first one. "Deal."

"Deal."

####

Bill lost every game.

Badly.

He was clobbered. He was creamed. He was a faint red smear upon the pavement.

Back in Ford's dreams, Bill had won a good four-fifths of their games. Ford had heard during his travels that Bill was a mediocre player, but he didn't think he was so bad that all of those games had been won due to cheating. Even when he wasn't cheating, Bill had sometimes taken Ford by surprise.

But now, Bill was squinting at the board like he was struggling to see where the pieces were. Occasionally his fingers pinched down on thin air like he was trying to grab a non-existent piece. So Ford assumed the catastrophic losses were more a reflection of Bill's mental state than his skill level.

The option to make up rules didn't save Bill, but it at least made the games more interesting—and unlike the rest of Bill's abysmal playing, the new rules gave Ford a glimpse of the devious mind still buried somewhere in the traumatized human body.

The first round, Bill decided that the queen could leapfrog over pieces like a knight, and when Ford pointed out that would mean whoever had the first move could put the opposing king in checkmate in one move, Bill grudgingly amended the rule: the queen could leapfrog to an empty square, but could only take pieces in a straight line in the conventional manner. Ford had to maintain a phalanx of pieces jealously clinging to his king to guard against Bill teleporting his queen to the king's side. Bill managed to check him twice before Ford won.

One round, Bill decreed that rooks could only land on pieces the same color as they were sitting on, then smugly nestled his king on a white square next to Ford's rook on a black square; and then promptly lost the game when Ford pointed out both of Bill's rooks were currently on white squares, meaning he'd broken his own rule before he'd revealed it.

One round he decided that kings could move like queens, which Ford only discovered when he thought he'd checkmated him and then Bill zoomed his king across the board to take Ford's bishop; and then Bill lost a few moves later when Ford used his own king's newly revealed power to properly corner Bill.

One round Bill decided that once any back row piece was captured, it reincarnated in the body of the corresponding front row pawn. Ford genuinely liked the new rule—it meant you had to capture and checkmate both the king and the king's pawn before the game was over, and you had to be more cautious about what pieces you took since it could inadvertently set up a previously harmless enemy pawn to devastate your side of the board. But by the time Bill revealed that rule by jumping a pawn like a knight, Ford had already taken Bill's king's pawn and seen a way to checkmate him in two moves. It was a sore disappointment to end the game before getting to experiment with the new rule.

A few games were so short that Ford won without ever seeing Bill pull a nonstandard move. Round seven was one such game. Ford cornered Bill with a knight and a bishop. That had been the quickest match yet. Game over. "Checkmate."

"Checkmate," Bill said.

Ford paused, looking over the board, thinking moving his bishop must have given one of Bill's pieces line of sight to his king; but no, his king was perfectly safe. "What?"

"Checkmate."

"You can't mate me, I just mated you."

"I know. Checkmate."

Frowning, Ford said, "Explain."

"The extra rule this game is that both kings are wearing suicide vests." He tapped his king, "He's wired up with enough explosives to wipe out the whole board." There was a look of steely exhaustion on his face. He looked like the kind of desperate, hopeless man who would put on a suicide vest. "If I'm going down, you're coming with me."

Ford laughed so hard his stomach hurt.

It was petty revenge for losing seven games in a row. A frustrated child flipping the chessboard, but making a self-deprecating joke out of it: as long as we both know I'm going to lose anyway...

When Ford had recovered himself enough to look at Bill again, Bill was giving him a faint, grim smile that didn't quite make it to his one open eye. Still—he looked a little less miserable than he had for the past hour. Or the past couple days.

Ford said, "We'll call that one a stalemate."

"I'll take it."

####

After trying all morning and half the afternoon, Dipper had remembered part of what the Axolotl had told him. Just one phrase: sixty degrees that come in threes. He could hear the rhythm and rhyme of whatever the Axolotl said next, something something something -eez—it rhymed, he was sure of that—but the rest...?

It took Dipper over an hour and a half to get back to the campsite; he'd gotten lost in his thoughts, and consequently, gotten lost in the forest. He returned with a plastic bag of the kind of junk food they regularly saw Bill consuming in the shack, a few slices of gas station pizza, and a clear takeout container of nachos. Bill immediately went for the nachos.

While Bill was inspecting the circle-shaped tortilla chips with obvious disappointment, Dipper rummaged around in the plastic bag until he found a small jar of rainbow sprinkles and offered them to Bill. Bill took it without acknowledging Dipper, awkwardly untwisted the lid with one hand and ripped off the seal with his teeth, and liberally drowned his nachos.

"The gas station looks like an earthquake hit it," Dipper reported. "And most of the cars had popped tires. I guess they must've floated up and then crashed back down." He took a cheese pizza slice and offered the box to Ford. "Nobody I asked saw the Axolotl."

Ford glanced at Bill, expecting him to have some kind of comment on that; but Bill just grunted "Mm," focused on the chess game like he thought he'd be killed if he glanced away.

Dipper pointed out when Bill pulled an illegal move, Ford explained the new rules they were playing by, and Dipper settled down to watch. He tried to razz Bill the next time he lost; but Bill made such a pathetic figure that he couldn't even enjoy making fun of him and quickly gave up.

During the next game, Bill unexpectedly slid a pawn backward diagonally to take out Ford's queen. While Ford was silently fuming over the loss of his most powerful piece, Dipper hazarded, "Can pawns capture both forward and backward?" That would have been Ford's guess too.

But Bill simply said, "No."

Dipper mumbled, "Huh," lost focus on the game, and stared off into the distance, murmuring something under his breath. He kept getting lost in his thoughts today. Ford supposed nobody in this hiking party was in the best mental state.

Maybe pawns could move like bishops? But when Ford tried to slide one diagonally across the board, Bill said, "That's illegal," and Ford returned it to its original spot. There was some hidden condition he was missing. Maybe which color square the pawn was on? Or maybe it was like en passant, you could only capture an enemy piece backwards if that was the first time the enemy piece moved?

When the game was over—Ford won, but Bill had held out longer than usual—Ford asked, "All right, what was the new rule?"

"Pawns can capture forward and backward." While Ford and Dipper stared at him in mute outrage, Bill ignored them to casually shift his posture from kneeling—his knees had gotten sore—to lotus position, and said, "Next game?" as though he couldn't even be bothered to notice the humans' fury.

"But that's exactly what we said!" Ford snapped. "You lied to me!"

"No," Bill said, "I lied to the kid. I'm not playing against the kid. Why are you paying attention to what I tell him?"

Dipper demanded, "How is that fair? Anyone listening would think—"

But he fell silent when Ford laughed. "Of course," Ford said. "I should have expected that. Any loophole you can find. That's part of the game to you, isn't it."

Bill gave Ford an unsettlingly knowing look; and Ford supposed it was part of the game to him, too.

(Somewhere in the back of Bill's foggy mind, he kept count: three times. Before today, Bill wasn't sure he'd heard Ford laugh once this summer. What changed? What was Bill doing differently? Maybe Ford only liked him when he was completely broken.)

It took until halfway through the next game for Ford to realize Bill had moved his legs.

####

Over Ford's protests that they should wait until his strength was back, Bill insisted they get moving immediately. He'd rather be locked in the shack again than spend one more minute sitting by the lake.

"I hate being surrounded by trees. Why do humans like nature so much. This is miserable." Caked in mud, still wearing a towel like a skirt, teetering with exhaustion, Bill certainly looked like the most miserable camper to ever exist. "I cannot begin to tell you how sick I am of looking at pines."

Ford wondered whether the pun was intentional.

Bill's limbs were weak and uncoordinated. He could twitch his left fingers when asked, but his grip strength was nonexistent and the arm hung limply at his side when he wasn't actively trying to use it. His legs moved, but when he tried to get to his feet he collapsed back into the mud. But he thought he could probably stand with support. He ignored the hand Ford offered and crawled to the nearest tree to lean on as he got to his feet. Ford could see Bill's knees tremble.

"I don't need your help," Bill grumbled. "I can stand fine on my own."

Ford wouldn't argue with Bill's definition of fine. "But can you walk?"

"I could." He couldn't even make the lie convincing.

"Then be my guest."

"I'm saving my strength."

It would almost be funny if he wasn't being such an inconvenience. "Well, you're here and the boat is over there." Ford gestured. The shore was much further away than it had been yesterday. "If you can't walk, then you're either crawling or you're getting help. Which you'd prefer is between you and your dignity."

Bill's face reddened. "Don't talk to me about my dignity, like you've ever cared about my dignity..." He twisted around to inspect the tree behind him, tired gaze looking over the branches—maybe he was planning to break off a walking stick? He attempted to grab a thin branch that wouldn't serve as a walking stick for a toddler. He wasn't strong enough to break it off. He kept trying.

They were never getting to the boat. "Please let me help."

"Go jump in a lake. Again."

How did Ford handle this without prodding at Bill's bruised ego? "Consider it my thanks for—ah..." Ford cleared his throat. "For actually telling the truth about the eclipse. In spite of... what was no doubt immense temptation to lie like a cheap rug. Since we didn't believe you anyway." He had averted his gaze in embarrassment; he forced himself to face Bill like a man. Bill was actually looking at him again. "And for not chucking my gnephew's body off the cliff when you had the opportunity." The bar was so low it was on the ground, and yet it was still impressive that Bill hadn't found a way to dig under it. "And... for saving my life."

Bill set his jaw tight, as if he didn't like being reminded of his moment of decency; but he said, "Fine, get over here." He held out his good arm. "Help your hero and savior limp triumphantly off the field of battle."

When Ford offered his hand, Bill ignored it, and practically snarled when Ford tried to wrap it around his waist for support. Rather than putting his arm over Ford's shoulders, Bill seized a wad of fabric near the collar of Ford's t-shirt as a handhold to hang his weight from. Ford felt less like he was supporting Bill, and more like he'd just gotten in trouble and his father was marching him into the living room by his collar to give him a stern talking-to.

"First time you've ever thanked me for anything I've done for you," Bill muttered. Ford told himself he could drop Bill once they were on the boat.

Dipper was completely zoned out, waiting on the boat staring off in the direction the Axolotl had flown. He didn't react as Bill sat next to him, and Bill didn't acknowledge he existed. Ford started the motor, and they crossed the lake toward Tate & Backle's Bait & Tackle.

####

(You can't imagine how long I've been waiting to post this chapter. Hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear what you think, and I hope those of y'all who have been waiting for Bill to cry like a baby are satisfied.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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figureofdismay · 18 days

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That gif of GA going around talking about how she lied about her age when auditioning for scully bc they don't let 24 yos be doctor-fbi agents made me think about an au of TXF where you lean into the total babyface thing and have Scully be this wunderkind prodigy doctor who maybe even made the news and skipped grades and went to college at 15 and med school at 18/19 and really did finish her residency at 24/25.... It would add a whole new dimension to her choice to switch to pathology over cardio thoracic surgery and also to leave private practice for the FBI. Like, a whole magnitude bigger of the 'you're a g-d gifted prodigy and you choose to do this? Not save living patients? Throw away all your hard work to be a field agent?' and then to compound the issue, she chooses to flame out into fringe obscurity with that slacker alien nut Mulder.

Really lean into the Jodie Foster character parallels (Clarice Starling and Ellie Arroway).

Also the whole triumph of free will or rebellion against the Obligations Of Genius. Also somewhat of a Mulder parallel except he had a lot of outside forces moving him away from the things that he was gifted at but were destructive for him, so idk

I feel like someone mentioned this idea already actually, @unremarkablehouse maybe? But just seconding that yes aus digging into prodigy Scully would be really interesting! 👀

#txf #dana scully #character theory: scully #the x files #the glen Gould of it all honestly 😩💜

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craacked-splatters · 8 days

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ur crossover prison dimension au intrigues me @imagionationstation do u have any more stuff to share about it? 👉👈

Sleep deprived so feeling a lil loopy(sorry for any incoherent babble) but Shsjdks yeah yeah adding this 2 the "stuff 2 draw for" pile here

I kept coming back to this au. More specifically the part where Dee and Leon r trapped in the prison dimension. Like Rise animators did a cool job on animating the squishy fleshy organic dead alien race stuff in the movie! Look at this!

Ooey gooey icky ew ^^^ I love it

And also the prison dimension looks so sick and cool

I imagine surviving in a dead wasteland full of decay and corpses and echoes with a lunatic hunting u down 24/7 wouldn't be fun. What horrors do u think they would witness while trying not to bleed out and die? What trauma would Kraang inflict on these two? Revenge and rage are the only things fueling that war criminal & truly I don't think there's anything holding that guy back (for the love of everything I hope the bois don't have to fight any other rise kraang tech, it's genuinely terrifying they're literally gonna die Do NOT let that maniac get their tentacles on anything else besides the weird corpse armour they're wearing plz & thank u)

These poor kids. Leon went from the movie events to this, and Donnie literally got poofed to atoms before popping up in the middle of a child murder. Wowza how overwhelming. The one thing that keeps popping up into my mind is the two of them huddling together under some ruins or holding hands bcuz they're too afraid 2 end up separating and dying alone. How strange would it be. To have a different version of ur brother(- not quite a stranger bcuz there's still similarities that he shares with ur own, he's a brother, he's not urs but there's another versión of u running around, there's a whole nother universe bcuz of course there is and somehow ur still bros in it and he's here instead of his home he's right here) how strange it must be to this different face, different voice and eyes and mannerisms an entire new soul as ur only anchor. To be the only thing to keep u from falling apart. To see each other as a constant reminder of what they wished they had, of wanting to their families, of wanting to just leave this hellscape where things don't make sense and just go home.

But when they do finally get rescued there is no feeling of safety or realness or even a home to greet them. Only a sense of wrong & confusion & hurt & the equally trembling hand holding ur own and those scared haunted eyes that followed u since the horror show of the prison dimension.

(Trauma bond!! Yay🎉)

How would Leon and Dee interact with each other at first and how did it change as they continued to survive? What was it exactly that made them start clinging to each other? Would it become a habit for them both to go reaching for the other even when nothing is said or done?

And and!! I was thinking about the 2 angst paths u set out too. They're both sooo good!! Honestly u have such a big brain where do u keep coming up with these genius ideas! The custody battle route is very angsty :)) heehehehe. Rise splints and Don having no problem stopping Dee from going home with his family for Leon is so sweet and also AUUUGHH!! They're literally willing 2 do whatever is needed to keep their family safe & happy and I cry but then I remember the 2012 fam being the same & then i cry again

Also ur so right d 2012 bros have never been apart for long, they literally spent 15 yrs of their life together bcuz together meant safe and safe meant home. They're literally heat seeking missiles for each other even in the show. With them it's either they all die or none of them do. How painful it must be to be ripped apart so suddenly like that :((

Um anyways so yeah very good au👍 will continue to doodle gonna sleep now

#together meant safe and safe meant home #<- its been stuck in my brain ever since i wrote it down in my fic docs *sobs*#anyways yeah mhm cool au IS very cool #what was the au name? i couldn't remember 😭#the screen looks fuzzy but still i press on😎#tmnt 2012 donnie #rottmnt leo #tmnt crossover au #splatter scribbles #phone art #its literally about 2 be 4am #time for sleep gn #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt

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ms-scarletwings · 3 months

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Irken Zim’s 8 biggest fans

For funsies! As we are well aware, this guy has a lot of gut-haters and censurers across the galaxy. Over his long years of life, he’s gained a proud infamy from every corner of the Irken empire, all the way to the fringes beyond, and the number of critics snapping at his heels only grows with every adventure. Whole civilizations sit at their seat’s edge waiting for this invader’s downfall, but what of those who defy all odds, expectations, maybe even logic? Even devils somehow find worshippers, even criminals get fan mail, and even Invader Zim has someone rooting for him within the 4th wall. Weirdly quite a handful of them, actually, let’s recount.

8. Table Headed Service Drone Bob

It’s humorous, how odd circumstance can make for strange advocacy. The show’s universe operates on the rule of funny, and Bob just so happened to be in the right place and time to comedically become the only Irken alive with something to gain from Zim’s success, and so much to lose for his failure. The sheer unfairness of what the Tallest put him through along with Zim serving some hope for a miracle ticket out of his low standing seemed to snap something in him, even if just for an episode. It would make sense for anyone in his position to have a much more dampened love for their society and leaders, to the point where cheering on its greatest enemy would be preferable than another moment of being a doormat. An underdog rooting for an underdog, even if for purely selfish and coincidental reasons.

7. The Judgementia Control brains

Even more deliciously ironic, isn’t it- That Zim’s praise was be sung once from the very bottom rung of Irken society and then again from the highest spike? What better to follow up poor Bobby than another victim of astronomical circumstance, or rather, three victims together? The nutshell recap of “The Trial’s” plot climax spells out the tragedy of, what is basically Irk’s highest court officials, to become he first ever victims of Zim’s malignant code becoming a contagion. They’ve joined the Fanclub, even if against their will, and all the better for Zim this time to have support from such a high place, seeing that it literally saved his hide in this instance.

6. Dib Membrane

Yeah, that’s freaking right. He’s on the list. You think being a hype man and a mortal rival are mutually exclusive? You either haven’t been watching enough DBZ or you haven’t been watching enough Hellsing and should fix that. Anyway, and I’m speaking within the actual canon dynamic of these two… it is very important to Zim that Dib is perceived as a formidable opponent to bluster his own ego, and vise versa. Dib is not in any self-serving position to accept what an actual mess Zim’s operation is, even though he has more evidence of the alien’s horrible tactics, nonsense plans, failures, etc. than anyone else on the planet. Gaz can see Zim for exactly what he is and why fighting him doesn’t have to be this 24/7 urgent priority. Dib refuses to get that because stopping Zim’s pop-up schemes only keeps the score tied for them. They’ve both been at this long enough to get incredibly frustrated with the lack of progression regarding the big picture goals, taking over the world, and exposing a live alien to the world, respectively. I don’t think he has to keep describing this space goblin as some ultra-cunning master of villainy, or GIR as this nefarious minion because that’s what he actually thinks of them, but because if he admits otherwise, that’s not a great reflection of his own merit for the obvious reasons. Just the presentation of another dimension’s version of himself succeeding against Zim before him causes a spiral of self doubt, just as it can bring Zim to a minor panic watching other invaders leaving him in the dust. Dib wants this guy to be a challenge worth the victory lap when he finally gets what he’s been fighting so hard for.

When Zim is getting on some truly idiotic antics, Dib doesn’t actually revel in his disorganized stupidity, but meets it with a baffled or annoyed disappointment. Like me watching a character I thought was super badass suddenly do something that reveals them to just be utterly lame. Too often he almost comes off like he is critiquing Zim’s performance as a villain rather than,, you know, the fact that Zim is a villain in the first place. It more than once has led to accidentally giving the guy new ideas or pointers on how to do his own job better once in a while. If I were in Dib’s place I would under NO circumstances be giving Zim advice or corrections on what he’s doing “badly” when it comes to the invader thing, but, whatever makes you feel cool & smart, you little dork. There’s also the whole “Dib’s hatred for Zim belies his geeky fixation with aliens broadly” angle I’ve mentioned here or there before, and don’t mind to again. Studying/stalking Zim is only partially about defeating him. His curiosity over Irken tech, biology, etc. is still coming from a place of genuine scientific passion, as literally all of us know. And of course, on occasion the two make for unlikely allies against much bigger shared enemies.

5. Minimoose

Oh come on, how much could I even have to say about this moose-weapon? He has two fathers and is fully aware that Zim is one of them. Assuming we all here know about the cute Florpus quote; no need to recap the whole existence of the lil guy.

4. Invader Skoodge

Now this guy… this guy ain’t right. Exactly here, at this (I say with love) loser of an invader, we reach two tipping points when it comes to Zim-affinity. One, the tipping point where Zim ceases to ask for and ceases to appreciate the toadying. Two, the point where I actually kind of struggle to find any rational explanation for the toady’s behavior. Like I’ve tried and I genuinely don’t know how to put together how Skoodge keeps jumping into this position other than ‘it’s that funny’ or some weird familiarity from smeethood factor. All of the invaders know what Zim has done and what he’s capable of. He’s a consistent terrorist of his own kin and defamed as the greatest disgrace to the Empire. The two options for how to feel about Zim as any random Irken soldier are fear, and/or loathing. If Skoodge were just neutral or indifferent of Zim, that’d be pretty freaking odd. But Skoodge interacts with Zim on the level of at least a lukewarm acquaintance, readily even deferring to his command, despite the fact that he nearly dies every single time he does so. He survives miles of being chased by a monster on Hobo-13, he makes it to the finish line, and his first reaction is to let Zim know he’s made it in one piece. He decides to lay low and slack off after getting fired (into the blighted surface of Blorch) and out of the entire universe to choose from, he decides to go hole up at Zim’s place and stay conveniently out of the way for some time. Dude finally shows himself in the unfinished scripts, and it’s to motherfucking help Zim troll around with Dib. I’m up at night wondering what is going on in Skoodge’s head because he’s n o t an idiot. He’s a real invader in all other respects, just as competent and nationalistic as the rest of them. Easily suggestible, yes, but not stupid. There’s basically no way for him to be ignorant of the big lie the Tallest sold Zim, yet he chooses not to utter a peep on the matter. Pity? A bizarre sense of solidarity?? A delusional one sided friendship??? Don’t look at me like I know other than the fact that he’s on our protag’s team, in spirit. The wannabe Irwin to Zim’s Billy, essentially.

3. Keef

So yeah of all things to blow Skoodge’s unhealthy attachment clean out of the water, we stumbled into this freak of a human child. Keef is a loyal compadre to a fault. A huge, creepy fault. Kid was originally supposed to make a return as well, wherein he was no less of a stubborn stalker than already proven once. And extra points for the irrational selflessness. Even while demonstrating an understanding of what Zim did in Dark Harvest, possibly even with the memory of that whole squirrel incident, he still wishes nothing but for the ability to put a smile on his green friend’s face.

2. The Amoeboid Cult

And when none thought that the scary conviction Zim garnered on Earth could be his biggest fans, you find this little ditty in the comics, and it starts turning into an irresponsible god analogy fairly quick. The short recap is that following a crash on a strange planet, the Voot Runner starts leaking fluids that inadvertently spark abiogenesis, which results in the creation of a rapidly evolving race of blob-things. Seizing an opportunity, Zim at first demands their followership, and then shortly after gets fed up with it as he did the previous fanatic on the list. Nonetheless, the cell people continue to reproduce and age thousands of years their time in the span of a couple minutes, never losing that zeal for their unintentional creator, even going so far as to repair the cruiser despite Zim’s rejection of them. Out of what little they gathered about him during his short visit, they correctly learned he’s a destructive god who planned to abandon them as soon as he could. Their last wish as a civilization? For this god to also obliterate them, as final treat. Such was their devotion that it even left Zim himself completely baffled for a moment when its full depth was revealed.

1. GIR

You watch this show, right? Yeah? Henchman and sidekick number one? Chaotic thing this whole fandom can’t decide to perceive as an adoptive child or a talking pet? He may not be as competent in pleasing Zim’s wishes as minimoose, or as focused, but his heart and loyalty are ultimately with their intended master, unconditionally and for as long as this setting has continued.

#invader zim #iz #iz analysis #scarlet talks about things #long post

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1d1195 · 9 months

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Protection VI

You can read Protection here. Hard to believe it's only probably four parts left! This got a little bit away from me, I think. I hope it makes sense!

Here we are: 6.5K words.

Warnings: fluff, smut 18+ only , angst(?)

He wished he could meet her mom. Wished with everything in him he could meet the woman responsible for the girl that drove him mad—mad with annoyance or madly in love. It didn’t matter.

With her new vow to be a downright angel, she knew she was nearly boring to keep watch over. In addition, she had finals coming up; it was hard for her to do anything but study and work. Harry was endlessly helpful and kind. He made runs to get her coffee and read off her flashcards. Quizzed her on all the topics she worried about most throughout the semester, laughing every time she easily corrected his mispronunciation of the scientific words.

“What d’you want t’do once y’get your degree?” He asked.

She smirked. “I’m not sure. At one point I wanted to work for the EPA; sometimes I think about being a professor,” she shrugged. Harry thought if she was his professor, he would have never passed a single class. He would be too busy staring at her. “When I was younger, I watched a bunch of CSI shows with my mom and I wanted to be one of the scientists in the lab. It’s a bit dramatized on TV though, so I put it on the backburner. I could work in the bio-medicinal field,” she explained. “I would get to help make drugs and medicines and things.”

“Y’really like this stuff?” He asked curiously looking at the gibberish words on the cards in his hands.

She smiled excitedly. “A lot, it’s like a puzzle.”

“I’ve done a puzzle before love,” he shook his head. “S’not a puzzle.”

She giggled this adorable giggle that Harry was so smitten for. It was like his favorite song. He started to dream about her laughter. The days he had off seemed endless now—just waiting to come right back to her place and watch a rom-com before she fell asleep. If he had it his way, he would have moved into her second bedroom. He would have requested to be by her side, 24/7.

“When do you do errands?” She asked scribbling something in her notebook. It was approaching nine at night which meant they were going to start a movie to help her relax before she picked up studying as soon as she woke up. Harry was sitting on the sofa as he always did. She sat on the floor, so she had the ability to freely move around her séance circle of papers, note cards, laptop, and textbooks.

“Jus’ usually do it on m’day off,” he shrugged.

She frowned. “We could do them when I’m out and about. It doesn’t seem fair that we’re like...at Target and you can’t grab a few things.”

“S’protocol,” he smiled. Then he chuckled shaking his head at her as she rolled her eyes so hard, she turned her neck along with the motion at his words.

“I hate protocol,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“When do you see Niall?” He stared at her silently. Wondering how on Earth she knew who Niall was. She glanced at him as she looked over her notes. But then did a double take when he looked at her as if she suddenly grew a second nose. She tilted her head curiously. Harry’s expression went blank as he searched through every moment that he had spoken to her over the last four or so months, trying to remember when he mentioned Niall’s name. After a moment of trying to figure out his hesitation, she giggled, realizing what she had done. “I told you I ran a background check of my own,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. She didn’t need a security detail. She was more than capable of protecting herself. Harry was glad he was here all the same, but it was a moment like this that he felt she was independent enough to do whatever she wanted and knew exactly how to save herself. “On m’days off.”

“Did he tell you I ran into him?” She asked.

He shook his head feeling like he was abducted by an alien and put in an alternate dimension. “No,” he put the flashcards on the table. “When did y’see him?”

Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “I went to the office,” she told him. His eyebrows rose on his forehead. He blinked at her as if he was just seeing her for the first time.

“You what?” His voice was flat.

“I was sure he was going to tell you about it,” she frowned and looked curiously at her papers.

“I haven’t seen him in a bit, he doesn’t always have the same time off as me,” he explained.

She nodded. “Oh...well, I kind of yelled at your supervisor.”

Harry knew she was...headstrong. He had seen the way she spoke to people who made her mad. But somehow, he had a hard time imagining the girl before him going to a government office and yelling at a grown man. What’s more, he was probably scared of her too. Harry was at a loss for words. No idea what to say or do. “You...yelled?” He was practically breathless. The words hardly reached her ears. She yelled at his supervisor.

She nodded again, easily. Obviously. As if that were a regular occurrence. “It was right after my hospital stay,” she murmured. Harry felt his heart freeze over at the mere mention of that awful weekend. If Harry was around, he was never going to let something like that happen to her ever again. He was sure of it. “When you were acting all weird towards me.”

Harry still felt bad that she noticed that. It took over a week for normalcy to come back to him. His supervisor told him it was unacceptable and made them look bad. Unfortunately, Harry full-heartedly agreed and since he was throwing himself a pity party of feeling terrible about it, he let his supervisor help in making him feel worse. “Oh,” he was still so utterly confused. “M’sorry. M’not really following. I...why did you—”

“I...I really...appreciate how you treat me,” she interrupted. She looked up from her papers. “I really do feel safe when you’re around,” she looked at him shyly, through her gorgeous eyelashes that nearly brushed the bottom of her eyebrows. Harry felt like he was melting into her sofa. He had grabbed her flashcards just so he didn’t do something stupid like pull her into his lap and kiss her until he needed oxygen. “So when...you didn’t want to be around me, I was really sad and hurt. More than I think I would have been if...” she shrugged off the rest of the sentence. Harry knew what she meant: more than the reason why she was at the hospital. “You stopped taking the extra shifts and stuff...and I know that you have your own life but...it’s enjoyable to be around you. I didn’t want to run away from you or do stupid things... or any of my normal stuff. But you didn’t want to be around me,” she mumbled quietly. She swallowed the lump in her throat thinking about how truly awful it would be to not see Harry for any length of time. His standoff nature broke her heart, and it was only a few days. She wasn’t sure what would happen when she no longer needed nor had a security detail. “You were all upset, and it was their fault.”

Harry felt so guilty again. “Oh,” he frowned. “M’sorry, love...I jus’...I was so upset that y’got hurt because of me—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she shook her head. Her tone said there was no arguing with her. They had gone through this already anyway. There was no use in rehashing it. But Harry would probably feel guilty for the rest of his life.

“I would have blamed anyone that was supposed t’keep an eye on you that day,” he tried explaining once more. “S’not...we don’t have t’make it a thing, but I jus’ want y’to know I feel really guilty about it.”

She sighed. “You shouldn’t,” she said simply. Neither spoke, the silence was comfortable though. It was like a warm blanket. She scribbled a bit and Harry flipped through her index cards. “Favorite tree?” She asked quietly.

“Tree?” He smirked. She nodded. He shook his head with a chuckle and thought about trees. Did he even know if he had a favorite tree? “Uh...oak, I guess.”

“Mine’s a Christmas tree.”

“Oh, no fair,” he pouted. “That’s a good one.”

“I want to get a Christmas tree,” she told him. “Maybe we could do that instead of a movie,” she suggested.

“You’re in charge, love.”

She rolled her eyes. “Only kind of.” He smiled. “Favorite number?”

“I don’t have one,” he admitted.

She blinked. “Hmm. Mine is fourteen,” she told him. “I don’t know why. Just speaks to me.”

He would have to remember that. “Favorite cereal?”

A beat of silence. “Coco puffs, I think.”

“What’s your favorite book?” He asked.

She bit the inside of her lip. “I think I’d rather die than pick.” He chuckled at her response.

She put on a Christmas rom-com while they decorated the tree. Harry chuckled at some joke on the TV, but she could not be bothered to pay attention. Harry was helping decorate her Christmas tree. Just like how he helped decorate her apartment with a million flowers. Harry paused his decorating, however, to focus on the movie. He stood in the middle of her living room, hands holding the string of lights while he stared at the screen intently. Invested in whatever was happening. Since she couldn’t be bothered to know even the basic plot, she took that time to gaze at Harry without a care. She wondered if it was possible that he had gotten more beautiful. Or maybe she just looked at him differently now.

Her mom would have loved Harry. She could practically picture her saying oh, he’s very handsome, with a little giggle. She would like how he was snippy with her. In fact, she imagined her mom saying something like, you’re too hard on, Harry. Don’t be so mean. She bit the inside of her lip and closed her eyes tightly to keep from crying. Harry had carried the tree from the car to the apartment with ease. It didn’t even look like it was heavy for him. He’s strong too, that’ll be good when you have babies. She shook her head of the daydream. Babies with Harry. Babies that wouldn’t meet their grandma. God, she missed her mom so much.

“Are y’alright, love?” He asked quietly. She blinked her eyes open. He was looking at her nervously. Like all the other times she was hurt in his presence. She worried he would take her to the hospital just for looking upset.

She nodded. “Just...thinking about my mom,” she mumbled and turned her attention to the tree. It wasn’t a lie, not really anyway.

“M’sorry, love. Did...did your mum like Christmas?”

She nodded sullenly. “Was our favorite.”

He looked at her flowery walls. Poinsettias and snowdrops. Harry wished there was mistletoe fixed to the ceiling somewhere. He would stand under it all day with her. He let her mull in silence about her mum. Maybe it was good to think about her. “I don’t know how y’do it.”

“Do what?”

Harry shook his head and shrugged. “Live. Think I would die without m’mum,” he told her.

She smiled weakly, tiredly. “I think a part of me did,” she shrugged. “But...my mom...” she rolled her eyes, and her smile grew as she thought her over. “Oh, she would have...” she giggled making Harry smile. “She would be so mad if I stopped living just because she did.”

Harry nodded. “My mum’s the same way.”

She had only a small bandage on her hand now. Harry had been taking very careful care of it. Making sure it healed properly and didn’t get in her way too much. “I miss her,” she told Harry. “I miss her every day...” she turned to look at Harry again. “She would have loved you.”

Harry felt some kind of pride that he didn’t know he needed. Knowing her favorite person in the universe would have loved him. “Yeah?”

She was all smiles now. Her giggle was infectious. “She would tell me I was being awful for you.”

“Well, then I love her too,” Harry rolled his eyes and he swore his heart grew to fill the entire space of his chest as she laughed her real, unfiltered laugh. He wished he could meet her mom. Wished with everything in him he could meet the woman responsible for the girl that drove him mad—mad with annoyance or madly in love. It didn’t matter.

Since Harry had been helping her study—or even since he started and watched her study, he knew all the signs of frustration and burnout. “Love, maybe a break?” He murmured. She shook her head.

“I hate this class.”

“You’re going t’do great, love,” he encouraged.

She rubbed her temples and sighed. “Can...” she looked at him sitting quietly on the other sofa, he was reading a book. She was so boring now, he could sit and read as much as he wanted. He tilted his head at her. “Are you busy?” She asked.

He smiled at her. “Does it look like m’busy?”

She shrugged. “It looks like a good book, is all.”

“M’not busy. Not for you,” he promised.

Her heart fluttered. He wasn’t too busy for her. She bit the inside of her lip. “Could you help me?” She asked quietly.

He folded the corner of the page down and nodded. “Course, love.”

Her asking for help was a really big deal. Normally, he just helped her. It never got to the point of her asking. Hence why it was so monumental when she was alone in the park and called Harry. It had to be nearly catastrophic when she injured herself in the kitchen and she called out for him instinctively. But somehow this moment outshone both of those. Sitting on her floor, papers spread about. Her needing his help to study was some form of intimacy that he wasn’t sure he could fully articulate how...wonderful it was.

He sat beside her on the floor and took her index cards as he was accustomed to doing. The pile was now at least three hundred cards thick. It was no surprise she was nervous. Harry wasn’t sure how she would retain all of it either. She stared at the study guide rubbing her forehead. “Okay...” she sighed. “This section, molecular symmetry and its relationship to vibrational spectroscopy and bonding, is giving me the most trouble.”

He stared at her as she looked over her notes. Harry set aside the section of index cards she didn’t need. She looked adorable, pursed lips and concentrated expression. He still hated the way her forehead creased with worry. He swore she was always two minutes away from a headache because of it and she failed to drink enough water to support her brain.

If I drank enough water, I would be too much for the world. She told him. I’d be unstoppable.

He must have been staring too long because she turned to look at him. “What?” She asked touching her cheek. “Do I have pizza on my face still, you’re supposed—”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re fine, love. Jus’...I literally haven’t a clue what you’re talking ‘bout. Spectroscopy?” He murmured. She smirked and shrugged. “You should have been a florist. Y’wouldn’t have had t’give yourself headaches,” he explained as he got to the section of index cards she referred to.

“Maybe in my next life.”

He chuckled. “D’you believe in a next life?”

She nodded. “For the sake of my mom I do,” she mumbled.

Harry was looking at her, she could feel it on the side of her face. If she looked at him, she was afraid she would burst into tears and never stop. It was something about her apartment being decorated for Christmas that had her feeling so much more...she was so upset that she would never meet Harry. Harry wasn’t even hers. “Your mum would be really proud of you,” he promised.

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

She looked at him finally. His green eyes met hers and she thought if he wasn’t her bodyguard, she would kiss him and probably never stop kissing him. She would become part of the floor and kiss him until her mouth hurt. Until her lungs screamed for air. He was perfect. Truly. It was awful she made him work so hard up until the past couple weeks. She would never forgive herself for that. He smiled at her. “Do I have pizza on m’face?” He asked.

She shook her head and blushed as she looked back at her study guide. She had to be careful, or she was going to fail merely because Harry was so pretty just sitting beside her, it distracted her.

After three hours of studying, they put on a movie. She was practically asleep before it started. Her body slumped across the couch. Harry glanced at her eyes, practically little slits. “Can y’even see?” He asked.

“See enough,” she mumbled. He stood up and draped a soft blanket with a Christmas tree pattern over the length of her. She was in leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She was so pretty. Her hair was pulled to a bun on the top of her head and Harry just wanted to kiss her sleepy, pretty face. She sighed. “M’gonna fall asleep.”

“S’okay, love,” he chuckled sitting back on the other couch.

“M’too tired to get to my room.”

“I can carry you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes and let out a note of laughter. “I don’t mind.”

“I do. M’too heavy.”

“You are not. S’this a comment on m’muscle tone?”

She snorted and cuddled the throw pillow closer to her face. It smushed her cheek against the fabric. Harry wanted to put her in his pocket, she was so adorable. “No...I don’t know...I mean—When do you even have time to work out?”

“I usually jus’ workout in m’time off, or while you’re asleep.”

“You go home at midnight and do a workout?” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even want to do a workout past five in the evening.”

He smiled. “You’re not heavy,” he repeated.

“M-hmm...I think I ate my weight in pizza today.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so stubborn.”

She smiled. “Leave me here,” she mumbled and drifted off to sleep. But Harry was stubborn too, so he carried her to her room. If he could, he would have taken a video of the pair of them just to show her.

“Harry,” she murmured sleepily once she was lying in her comfy bed. Harry’s heart felt like it was going to explode. Her eyes didn’t open, and she didn’t speak again. In fact, she had fallen asleep around him a lot and he had never heard her talk while she dreamed. He wanted to lay down right beside her, hold her, squeeze her. Tell her that he adored her and everything: her exam, stuff with her dad, her missing her mom, and everything her beautiful, brilliant mind worried about would be okay.

But instead, he gently smoothed part of her hair back and left her to dream.

Hopefully, about him.

Harry walked up to her apartment and waved to the agent outside as he looked down at his phone. He brought her a coffee to celebrate the end of her exams. The agent left and Harry waited until he was fully gone to let himself into her apartment.

She was on the phone and smiling like it was already Christmas. Like she had gotten the best gift of all. Harry smirked and placed his stuff at her dining table and then held the coffee up for her to see. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from squealing. Harry settled her cup down on the table as well as she spoke to the other end of her phone. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she said gratefully. “Happy holidays. Have a wonderful break.”

The moment her phone was on the counter she was running across her apartment and throwing herself at Harry. He staggered back a step at the impact. Her arms tossed around his shoulders, and she sighed as she breathed into his shirt. He was taller than her of course. By at least half a foot. She was on her tiptoes, and it felt like magic to hold her.

Harry felt like when she did this back in August. However, this time obviously didn’t have the hidden pretense of needing protection from some guy that couldn’t take a hint. This was real. She was really throwing herself at him and giggling like a madwoman. He wrapped his arms around her waist giving her a returning squeeze. “Mmm...y’okay there Miss Wildflower?”

She was jittery. But in a good way. She pulled from him, dropping her arms to her sides. Harry regretted asking her if she was alright. He would have much preferred her in the circle of his arms. “My professor emailed me asking me to call him,” she was giddy. Harry was in love. There was no longer a question about it. Her smile, her eyes, everything about her made his chest ache with adoration for her. “I...” she was nearly breathless. “Harry, I got the highest grade on the final.”

He rolled his eyes. Naturally he was proud and happy for her but it wasn’t all that surprising. “Of course, y’did, love. You’re brilliant and y’studied for ages.”

“No, Harry...like...ever. The highest grade ever.”

Oh. That was different. He tilted his head and smirked now understanding her excitement a little more. “Oh?”

She nodded excitedly, rocking back and forth on her feet. “He’s been teaching this course for...” she rolled her eyes. “Over twenty-five years...he was so impressed. He wants me to be his TA next semester, he wants me to do research. He thinks I should be a professor—especially because he wants to retire soon...Harry,” she was still practically bouncing with excitement. She was so adorable Harry didn’t know where to look. “Thank you,” she sighed her expression was so soft. Harry was melting for her. Right onto the floor. Just a puddle of the man he once was.

“Me?” He was shocked she was thanking him. He didn’t do anything. All he did was hold some index cards and mispronounce words for her.

“You helped me study so much...I,” she sighed. “I know I was a pain, and you didn’t deserve all that and you certainly didn’t have to help me after all that either. The studying, the crying about everything, the coffee, the...just putting up with me. It is just...thank you, truly. I am so happy. So unbelievably happy I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in m—”

Harry’s mouth was on hers.

Her brain short-circuited. Harry’s pretty pink lips were finally between hers. His hands were on each side of her face. His body curled down toward her as he kissed her. His lips were soft. So soft she wondered what chapstick he used—literally almost pulled away just to ask. But she was certain she would never pull from his lips. If she died from lack of oxygen, it would be okay. Except she worried Harry would have to do paperwork on it. Her eyes fluttered closed as soon as she felt the touch of his mouth.

Her hands fisted the sides of his shirt pulling him closer toward herself. His tongue gently stroked over her lower lip and then carefully probed at the space between her barely open teeth. Asking for silent permission to let it in her mouth. She moaned when his tongue licked hers. She could feel his heavy inhale and exhale from his nose as he breathed in and out.

Oh, it was so much better than she could have imagined. Better than she could have dreamed. She turned her face upwards allowing more access given his height. He pulled from her mouth, allowing her to breathe. But his lips didn’t stop, he kissed down the side of her throat, making her heart hammer out an unsafe rhythm. She didn’t dare speak; worried she would somehow ruin it.

This cannot be protocol. Why on earth would she care about protocol right now?

If she brought attention to the fact that Harry was willingly kissing her, he would probably stop. He seemed like the type. But instead, he brought his mouth back to hers, curled his arms around her middle long enough to almost crush her to his body. He got her toes off the ground, never stopping his kiss as he maneuvered blindly over to the sitting area. He guided her back carefully, so she went down gently on the sofa and Harry followed right after her, hips between her thighs. She groaned softly at the feeling of Harry pressing against her. This was an awful day to wear jeans. The stiff fabric had no give for her to fully feel and enjoy the way Harry grinded against her. Her leggings would have been much better. One of his hands rested at the back of her neck, his fingers gripping lightly on her hair so he could tug her closer to his mouth. The other touched her side, stroked down over her hip that bent around his waist before he slid down to her outer thigh.

“Harry,” she whimpered his lips breaking from her mouth for a moment to kiss along the side of her neck that didn’t receive attention before.

“What, love?” He mumbled. His voice seemed deeper, sexier.

She was aching everywhere. Harry wasn’t close enough. She wanted him everywhere. Wanted him to fix the ache. She had never needed anyone. Not once in her adulthood had she ever needed help from anyone nor needed anyone so much that her bones ached.

But she had never met Harry until this year. Now she wanted him to make the ache go away. “Please,” she begged.

“Please, what?” His lips brushed over the hollow space at the bottom of her throat. “Tell me,” he murmured. “I’ll give y’anything y’want,” his lips pressed to her collarbone and moved further south down the V of her T-shirt. She made an embarrassing little whiny sound out of her throat. She arched toward his mouth. Desperate for his kiss, his touch. All of it. “Tell me, love.”

She felt dizzy because despite all the stupid things she put him through, she believed he really would do anything she asked of him. The hand on her thigh moved back up toward her shirt and slid just below the hem so his fingers skimmed over her stomach. “Please,” she begged.

“‘Please’ what, kitten?” His voice was so gentle, deep. She wanted to drown in his voice. It made her chest ache to be called a new name. Honey set her on fire. Kitten was going to send her heart to the moon.

But he was smug too. He knew exactly what she wanted. Exactly. He was refusing to give it to her. Refusing to put his hand between her thighs. He brought his lips back to hers, kissing her plead, her question, all rational thought out of her mind.

“Want you,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. It was hard to keep calm when he spoke so gently. When his lips tasted so good and felt so soft. “Please?” She begged again.

“Love,” his voice was gentle. “I want you so bad,” he promised. Her heart felt like it was about to fly right out of her ribs and across the room.

But she still had one little neuron firing in her Harry-obsessed mind. His tone had a ‘but’ in it. She wanted to go back to kissing before she asked. Wanted to feel the lightness that drenched her and Harry as he sprinkled her with hundreds of kisses. Kisses, that if she was being honest with herself, she wanted since the day he knocked on her door for the first time.

But instead, his tone just made her feel terrible. She dropped her head back against the cushion. “S’not protocol,” he mumbled. He trailed his kisses back up her neck.

“Oh for...Harry, fuck protocol,” she moaned. She felt too warm. He chuckled against her making the little breath of laughter tickle and cool her skin. She thought she was going to pass out. She yanked on his shirt hard, trying to get him closer but she sensed it wasn’t going to happen. No matter how hard she tried.

“Easy, love.”

“Easy?” She felt agitated instantly. “M’gonna combust,” she told him breathlessly her head turning to the side.

“Good,” he said smugly pressing a wet kiss to the side of her neck. She flopped back miserably against the sofa again and looked at him through her lashes in that way that drove him crazy with adoration for her.

“You don’t...want me?”

“Kitten,” he tutted disapprovingly. He pressed his hand against her cheek. “Obviously, I want you.” Ever so subtly, his hips dipped against her leg, pressing his hard length against her thigh as proof.

“It’s not obvious,” she frowned sullenly. Even with his erection, it didn’t mean anything. He could just be horny, and she didn’t see Harry with other women often—well ever. She was here and he could just enjoy kissing or whatever. “Then—”

“M’sorry, love s’protocol,” he smirked sadly. “I jus’ want to—”

“Harry, what about me says I give two shits about protocol?” She groaned throwing her arm over her face.

He pulled it away and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I know, kitten,” he kissed the tip of her nose. “I want to,” he promised. “But...I can’t. I can’t right now.”

“Why are you on your period?” She rolled her eyes.

“Would never pin y’as a horny thing, love,” he pressed his lips to her ear. “Is that why y’tense all the time? Just need t’come?” She was silent. Unwilling to be bated by his words into revealing something about herself or admitting she was so fucking hot for him. “M’not gonna...do this with you...not while m’working.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel like she’s begging for sex.”

“Pretty sure y’could convince anyone t’have sex with you without begging.”

“Look in the mirror,” she muttered.

“I adore you,” he promised. His hand cupped the side of her face. “Obviously.”

She pushed him away. “So...what? We’re just going to...make out and dry hump?” She asked, frustration laced in her voice. She paced away from him quickly. Going to her room and shutting the door behind her. It wasn’t to avoid Harry. Actually, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself back at him, immediately. But if he was going to be rational, then she needed space so she could be rational too.

He knocked gently on the door. “Love,” he hummed. “Open the door.”

“No.”

He tried the handle and then sighed when it didn’t move. “Jus’...let me explain.” She waited silently. Now that she could breathe air that wasn’t heavy with Harry’s cologne or with just the scent of him, she was thinking a little more clearly. A little more like herself. He sighed again. “God, you’re annoying,” he mumbled. “I jus’...I can’t...take advantage of you,” he told the door.

“I want it,” she said petulantly. Like Harry was candy that she was being denied on Halloween.

He laughed behind the door. “I know, love. Me too.” She waited in silence again. “I don’t want t’do this while m’working. S’not fair.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s...” there was a small thunk against the door.

“I swear to God, Harry. If you say it’s protocol...” He didn’t speak giving her the answer she needed. “Why’d you kiss me then?” She groaned. “You got me all worked up.”

“I know, love. M’sorry. It was a moment of weakness...I shouldn’t have—”

“So, you really don’t want me?” She repeated sadness on the edge of her voice.

The idea that she was worried about Harry wanting her was killing him. “Kitten, open the door or I’ll break it down.”

She unlocked it and it was out of the way. His lips were back on hers in an instant. Brought her mind right back to the frenzy she felt moments ago. Her breath was lost in his mouth. He cupped her face and pecked at her upper lip as he started to chat with her. “Want nothing more than t’get y’out of your clothes and lay y’down and kiss every inch of your skin.”

If his tongue went in her mouth again she wasn't going to be able to think...maybe ever again. “But?”

“But...s’not...”

She pushed him away as much as she didn't want to, flopped onto her bed with a huff. “Harry, please,” she sighed. “What are we supposed to do? I don’t want you to not be on my detail. But we can’t...be...physical?”

“No...” he smirked. “No, we can’t.” She gazed at him curiously as he emphasized the pronoun. Harry sat beside her touching the inside of her jeans, following the seam to the middle of them below her zipper. Somehow his touch could be felt through the rough denim. She was certain if she was wearing leggings she would have come already. “I don’t want to get fired.”

“Pretty sure you’d get fired for this,” she whispered breathlessly.

He chuckled. “M’not explaining it right, love.”

“No, you’re not. M’feeling very unwanted. Which you know is...like really bad for my psyche,” Harry’s hand was literally between her thighs. He was breaking all kinds of protocol and she was still being annoying about his lack of attention to what she wanted more.

“Honey, I want you so badly,” he promised and brought his other hand to her face. He leaned down to kiss her softly. His fingers tapping almost rhythmically against the center of her jeans. “I can’t have sex with you while m’working. S’a recipe for disaster.” His fingers moved to her zipper, pulled it down. Moved back to her button, unclipped it from it’s place. "We'll figure it out, I'll kiss you and touch y'as much as y'want...but y'gotta lemme do this my way, please," he looked at her apologetically. "Know it doesn't make sense," his fingers were touching the elastic of her underwear. Her breathing hitched. “M’gonna take care of you, now. Okay? S’got nothing t’do with me or the job. S’all you, love. Y’deserve t’feel good.”

“You’re not making any sense,” her voice lacked air—it barely carried to his ears.

“I know, can’t think straight with y’looking so pretty like this,” his fingers dipped in between the opening of her jeans and the outside of her underwear. She moaned softly as his fingers moved over her. Her breath caught in her throat. Swore it stole the oxygen that went to her brain. There were no more brain cells in her head for rational thought. Thank God she took all her exams. “Y’better not fake it for me either. I know the difference in sounds y’made between the guy y’had here in September than when y’use your vibrator.” She wished she could feel embarrassed or angry toward him, but Harry’s fingers were pinching so softly but expertly at her clit she wanted to scream.

She didn’t know Harry could hear her.

“Y’make it so obvious, love. Moaning so loud for someone. S’not how y’do it. Y’get all breathy. Quiet. Hiding it. I know y’hide how y’feel...I don’t know why...but don’t y’dare think ‘bout lying t’me.”

That wasn’t going to be a problem. She had imagined Harry all over her so many times before. She was going to come in twenty seconds. “Oh...” she moaned arching into his touch. His hand slid lower, pushing her underwear out of the way and sinking a finger inside her. “Harry, please,” she begged.

“Oh, s’nice t’hear y’say please, love.”

Oh no. He was going to torture her.

“Didn’t know y’knew how t’be good.” Her toes curled. She tilted her hips up toward his fingers begging for more friction between her thighs. “Thought y’jus’ knew how t’be a pain in the butt. Didn’t know y’had manners.” Her brain was literally fried. It was an entity outside her body. The only thing she knew was Harry’s fingers on her body and his voice. His lips were pressed to her ear as he spoke. All while massaging his fingers in her folds, around her clit, and dipping inside her aching hole. It was like he was in the dark and could only use his sense of touch to find all the spots that drove her mad. She wanted to keep his hand in her pants every moment of every day. His fingers were so long and perfect and she could almost forgive him for not going further.

“Gonna listen t’me?” He asked. She nodded, gasping for air that didn't smell like Harry but enjoying that it did. “Say it,” he murmured. “For all the times y’didn’t.”

“I’ll listen,” she gasped.

“Good,” he continued rubbing leisurely. It was working her up beyond comprehension. She thought about whining at him. Or begging again. He seemed to like that enough that he might take pity on her.

But fortunately, he didn’t make her wait long.

“Come.” The knot in her stomach came undone without her even realizing it was there and ready to unravel. Her eyes fluttered as her body arched toward him. He pressed his mouth back over hers, licking her tongue. “S’a shame he couldn’t do that for you,” he murmured in her ear as her breathing settled. He gently removed his fingers from her pants, zipped and buttoned her back up.

Unironically, it felt like she had been drugged, the waves of dopamine coursing through her. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly as she watched Harry place his finger in his mouth and draw it out slowly. “Can’t wait t’taste you firsthand, kitten.”

This had to be the best day of her life. She passed her exam, she had a job opportunity, a mentor...she had...Harry and his lips and his fingers. Even if she had to figure out why he didn’t want to fully have sex. It didn’t matter. Having Harry like this, lying on her bed looking at her like she was...beautiful...

It was Christmastime. It was perfect.

She was happy. Really happy.

For all the bad stuff that happened to her, all the bad things she felt, it was nice to finally have something good. To have Harry beside her...to have finally kissed him. Those hearts in her eyes had to be back. But she swore as Harry smiled at her, she saw them in his as well. Her brain didn’t need to think about chemical bonding, O-rings, or compounds for a while. She could focus on Harry, his lips, and their movie list.

So why in the bliss of this perfect day, did a foreboding cloud of anxiety take over her mind?

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @be-with-me-so-happily @cherryshouse @foreverxholland @tenaciousperfectionunknown @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @cherrystyle

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

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madman479r · 2 months

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Ben 10,000 X Wonder Woman Gibslythe Ship Table

Context:

Ben 10,000 from Classic series

Wonder Woman from Justice league Animated series.

For Ben, this is after Ben 10 Season 3 episode 1 "Ben 10,000", in which he has started to relax a bit though he still maintains a firm attitude, taking being a hero seriously.

For Diana, this is set during the Thanagarian invasion of Earth "Starcrossed".

During this Ben finds himself in a new dimension and Immediately recognises that he's in the middle of an invasion. He manages to free the Justice League and assist them in fighting off the invasion.

During the time the team pretended to be civilians to get to Wayne Manor, Ben went with Diana instead of Bruce, so the fake kiss scene was between them.

After they fight off the Thanagarians and expand the Justice League, Ben decides, if he can't get back home, he might as well stay to help keep this Earth safe. His time in the DC universe, he and Diana grow close and start to date.

Big/Little Spoon: Diana had never shared her bed with another, so imagine her surprise by how comforting it feels to cuddle with someone, a man no less. For Ben he was in the same situation, having been constantly patrolling his earth he actually didn't sleep much at all, so having Diana with him in his arms makes him feel less anxious and jittery about not patrolling the Earth for anything.

Lends/Borrows Clothes: I don't think there's much Diana has that Ben would wear, unless he wants to cosplay as her, but that's not likely to ever happen.

Doesn't/Does Use Pet Names: Diana mainly addresses Ben by his name, only referring to him as something like "My Love" in privacy, not wanting their business to be anyone else's. Ben does the same for Diana, wanting to respect her boundaries, plus he doesn't want to seem degrading to her after having heard of Themyscira's views on men.

Introverted/Extroverted: Both are a healthy balance. With Diana having been raised in a isolated island, she's eager to explore the world and what it has to offer. Ben is the opposite, having seen the world and beyond, but despite having and extroverted personality and life before adulthood, there are times in which Ben would just like to have some peace and indulge in his favourite things.

Affection Through Words/Actions: Despite his sometimes serious and stern attitude, Ben knows the right things to say and do to show his affection to Diana, be it complementing her abilities as a warrior or her beauty, or using one of his aliens to make her a gift or show her something, like going on a flight with her to see the world. Diana tends to show affection through actions such as pecks on Ben's cheek or deep and passionate kisses, pouring her love for him in the act. Another way to show it is through sparring with Ben, Diana is an amazon after all.

Confesses First/Waits For Confession: Back when he was being a hero 24/7, Ben found romance to be distracting and never really bothered with it, so he was no expert on how to confess to Diana. Diana on the other hand decided that beating around the bush wasn't her thing and confessed for feelings to Ben, knowing he just needed the push to show her that he loved her too.

Screams About/Squashes Bugs: One is hero who's seen the scariest monsters and aliens of the universe before his 15th birthday and the other is a near invincible warrior, so bugs don't really scare either Ben or Diana.

Drives the Car/Can't Drive: Ben is better with a car while Diana is better with a jet.

Can't Cook/Makes Dinner: Ben knows the basics to cooking but that's about it. (My headcannon is that Ben 10,000 never really ate much, instead transforming into Swampfire or Wildvine and basking in sunlight like photosynthesis for a few minutes to re-energise himself). Diana was taught how to cook so she knows whats she's doing.

Dislikes/Loves PDA: Ben isn't too wild about PDA, wanting to rather keep it when it's private while Diana is even about PDA, only going as far as small kisses in public, giving hugs or holding Ben's hand.

Overprotective/Chill Going: Having been the top hero back on his Earth has made Ben think he should be the one to take on the baddest of the bad, not out of arrogance or underestimating the other heroes, but because he doesn't want to risk anyone getting hurt when he could do it himself, regardless if he's the one in danger. Diana knows Ben can handle himself, especially after hearing his feats back in his universe, but notices that Ben has a tendency to put himself in unnecessary danger in an effort to keep everyone else safe, so she'll do what she can to fight by his side and keep him safe in return.

Has More/No Relationship Experience: Before he turned stoic and cold, Ben had some experience in dating, though they never worked due to his hero life style. Diana never really had a relationship, the only romantic interest having been Steve Trevor but that was another time.

Horny Levels: Both can keep it in their pants but there are times when they just find it hard to resist one another. Diana neve thought she'd be enticied by man or their bodies but Ben had a physique that gives Diana thoughts which would make Aphrodite blush. The same being for Ben, especially when her outfit leaves little to the imagination.

Awkwardness Levels: Neither feel awkward with each other though sometimes Ben doesn't want to risk making Themyscira's views on men seem justified while Diana can rarely feel uneducated about the world outside of Themyscira.

Jealousy Levels: Both have very little to feel Jealousy about but the ugly emotion can be there at rare moments, like when another man/woman tries to make a move on Diana/Ben

#justice league #justice league unlimited #justice league animated #ben 10 #ben 10 series #ben 10 classic #diana prince #diana of themyscira #wonder woman #ben tennyson #ben 10000 #ben x diana #ben 10000 x wonder woman #crossover #crossover ship #gibslythe ship template #dc

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monster-every-day · 2 months

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day 88 - 3/28/24 - CHROME NEEDLE

horsey!!!!!! horsey horsey horsey

A friendly little alien from an adjacent dimension that got lost! a lot of people really really want to ride the chrome horsie but don't touch!! !it will begin vibrating at your body's resonant frequency and instantly obliterate you

this also happens if you go near it actually just dont go within like ten feet of it. unless you have like. REALLY good noise cancelling headphones but i' don,t think that exists yet,

Inspired by this post by @palossssssand, in which they drew creatures based on randomly generated pixel sprites from this website! i'm really glad i decided to do this, i've been lacking ideas for a little bit and this really gave me inspiration and i'm really happy with the creature that came out of it! :D

#monster every day #daily drawing #2024 #march #march 2024 #CHROME NEEDLE #3/28 #type: metal #type: alien

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supportingjatpcast · 5 months

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Where to find the JATP Cast as of December 12, 2023

happy three years to this account! Time to do my thing and update yall on where you can find the cast now! this will be under a read more for those of you who want to scroll past! Have a good one!

Madison Reyes- Julie Molina (@themadisonreyes on Instagram)

Julie and the Phantoms

The Bad Seed Returns

All Kinds of Love (available on all music streaming platforms)

Allie Mitchell Must Win (in preproduction)

Charlie Gillespie- Luke Patterson (@charles_gillespie on Instagram)

Julie and the Phantoms

The Class

Love You Anyway

Chevel Shepard: Good Boy (music video)

The Rest of Us

Madison Park: better w/o you (music video)

Conséquences (six episodes)

I Am the Night (pilot episode)

Speed Kills

Charmed 2018 (Pilot and Episode 2)

Naomi Sequeira: Pastries (music video)

2nd Generation (episodes 1-6)

The Next Step (season 5, episode 17)

Degrassi: Next Class (season 4, episodes 8 and 10)

The Outlaw League

Totally Killer

The Get Back Girl (postproduction)

Suze

Deltopia

Debbie Gibson: Love Don't Care (music video)

Owen Patrick Joyner- Alex Mercer (@owenjoyner on Instagram and Twitter)

Julie and the Phantoms

Acapulco (season 2, episode 3)

Knight Squad

Henry Danger (season 5, episode 9)

Slime Cup (season 3, episodes 1-6)

The Thundermans (season 4, episode 15)

The Veil

It’s On

100 Things to Do Before High School

Nickelodeon’s Ho Ho Holiday Special

Something Here (postproduction)

Jeremy Shada- Reggie Peters (@jeremyshada on Instagram)

Julie and the Phantoms

Interrupting Chicken (season 1, episode 3)

Dragons: The Nine Realms

Multiversus

Adventure Time: Distant Lands

Cookie Run Kingdom (English version)

Scars

Denton’s Death Date

Adventure Time: Pirates of the Enchiridion

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Adventure Time

Mr. Student Body President

Spiderman 2018 (season 2, episode 1)

Cheerleader Nightmare

Blooms Adventure Time TD

When Jeff Tried to Save the World

DreamWorks Voltron VR Chronicles

Guardians of the Galaxy: The Telltale Series

Gloria Talks Funny

Cartoon Network Live

Surfs Up 2: WaveMania

Adventure Time: Finn & Jake Investigations

Lego Dimensions

Badly Drawn Animals

Adventure Time: All’s Well That Rats Swell

Code Name: S.T.E.A.M

Adventure Time: Game Wizard

Adventure Time: The Secret of the Nameless Kingdom

Adventure Time: Card Wars

Aliens in the House

Adventure Time: Ski Safari

Adventure Time: Explore the Dungeon Because I Don’t Know!

See Dad Run (season 2, episode 8)

Incredible Crew (season 1, episodes 1-18)

Adventure Time: Hey Ice King! Why’d You Steal Our Garbage?!!

Paranorman

Adventure Time: The Wand

F.3.A.R.

That’s What I Am

Batman: The Brave and the Bold (season 1, episode 18; season 2, episodes 6, 18, 19; season 3 episodes 1, 3)

Quantum Quest: A Cassini Space Odyssey

Parenthood (season 1, episodes 4-5)

Healing Hands

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

Chowder (season 2, episode 24)

FusionFall

Cold Case (season 5, episode 1)

The Loop (season 2, episode 4)

Lost (season 2, episode 12; season 3, episode 21)

Ghost Whisperer (season 2, episodes 21-22)

Shark (season 1, episode 16)

Southern Comfort

Nip/Tuck (season 4, episode 13)

Bambi 2: The Great Prince of the Forest

No Rules

ER (season 11, episode 6)

The Incredibles: When Danger Calls

Team America: World Police

Miracle Run

Good Girls Don’t… (season 1, episode 4)

My Neighbors the Yamadas

Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake (season 1 episodes 2,3,5,7,10)

Vintage (available on all music streaming platforms)

Ballerina (available on all music streaming platforms)

Mad Love (available on all music streaming platforms)

Midnight Promises (available on all music streaming platforms)

Jadah Marie- Flynn Taylor (@thejadahmarie on Instagram)

Julie and the Phantoms

Family Reunion (season 4, episodes 4-5)

Home Invasion (season 1, episodes 1-6)

Sarah Jeffery and Jadah Marie: Audrey’s Christmas Rewind

Descendants 3

Descendants 3: Good to Be Bad (music video)

Ready Player One

Mann and Wife

Blue Bloods (season 7, episode 8)

No Safe Place (preproduction)

Sacha Carlson- Nick (@sacha_carlson on Instagram)

Julie and the Phantoms

9-1-1 l: Lone Star (season 3, episode 14)

American Housewife (season 3, episodes 6-7)

A Christmas Story Live!

Sacha Carlson & The Light (check out his band!)

Savannah Lee May- Carrie Wilson (@savannahleemay on Instagram)

Julie and the Phantoms

A Cowgirl’s Song

The Secret Lives of Cheerleaders

Knight Squad

Cousins for Life (season 1, episode 12)

Bizaardvark (season 2, episode 20)

School of Rock (season 3, episode 6)

Keep Moving (postproduction)

Booboo Stewart- Willie (@booboostewart.art on Instagram)

(look, i adore booboo. i do. but this man has 113 acting credits on IMDB, and there is no way that i am typing all of them out and including exactly what episodes of shows he’s in. love you all, but i do actually have a life outside of stanning the jatp cast, so im just linking his imdb page here. happy searching babes!)

Carlos Ponce- Ray Molina (@poncecarlos1 on Instagram)

(Carlos has 52 acting credits, and many are in Spanish, a language that i do not speak. check out his IMDb page here.)

Sonny Bustamante- Carlos Molina

Julie and the Phantoms

7th & Union

Law & Order True Crime (season 1, episodes 3-5)

New Shoes

Heaven’s Flume

Cheyenne Jackson- Caleb Covington (@MrCheyenneJackson on Instagram)

(Cheyenne has 66 acting credits. I'm not typing all that out, because I doubt that you want to read all of that. Check him out here!)

#julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie #jeremy shada #julie and the fat ones #julie and the himbos #julie and the phat ones #madi reyes #madison reyes #owen joyner #owen patrick joyner

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lawrencedagstine · 1 year

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SCIENCE FICTION ANTHOLOGIES: "Alien Dimensions #24..." - PREORDER NOW!

Pleased to announce that I have a brand new science fiction short story set in the cold dangerousness of space appearing later this month (comes out on Kindle March 28th to April 1st), in Neil Hogan’s Anthology-Magazine Series, Alien Dimensions. This is the SECOND time, second credit I have with Alien Dimensions. I first appeared many, many years ago in Issue #14. But that sold out quick and is…

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weirdmallow · 6 months

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The Dimension Hopper's Field Guide is an information pamphlet in 'Warped' that will give GMs information on various alternate dimensions to use in their Multiverse-spanning campaigns!

Amongst the universes on show are:

Description: UNI#000, known as Pink Skies, is a dimension composed entirely of gargantuan floating donuts - many of them sporting the signature pink icing that gives the universe its name. These donuts soar through perpetually sunny skies with no ground in sight, making UNI#000 a popular vacation spot for weary dimension-hoppers.

Points of Interest: The hole in each donut acts as a doorway that is linked to another donut hole somewhere else in UNI#000.

Hazards: Sprinkle storms may serve to decorate the donuts that float through this realm, but be careful: these rare events have been known to throw the donuts into disarray and crush unfortunate dimension-hoppers under great pillars of sugar.

Inhabitants: Dimensional travelers have set up hotels and resorts on some of the larger donuts. Here, dimension-hoppers can put their feet up, relax and unwind in a universe that reminds them that life is sweet.

Description: Beyond the earth, beyond the stars, beyond it all lies The Void: the desolate ruins of a once great reality. Gargantuan gothic cathedrals are strewn throughout the darkness, their ruins floating silently in the void for countless millennia.

Points of Interest: Ancient summoning rituals have left some ruins infused with eldritch energy. Some have the ability to generate local gravity, generate portals to other ruins or to summon or ward off the weaker eldritch entities that inhabit this realm.

Hazards: This dimension has no gravity or breathable air. Colossal black holes tear at the space around them, spelling certain death for all those they draw in.

Inhabitants: Though the once grand civilization that inhabited this realm has crumbled to dust, UNI#928 is not devoid of life. Amongst the ruins float the Great Old Ones: ancient, infinitely powerful eldritch gods so vast in scale that to look upon them is to risk madness. Their spawn scour the wastes in search of rifts to other dimensions and new worlds for their masters to conquer.

Description: In a universe that resembles our own, the small desert town of Endeavor plays host to a historic rocket launch: the first in human history. The town crowds around the launchpad in anticipation. Little do they know that the rocket is fated to explode, vaporising the town completely. In fact, it does so every day. UNI#321 is a universe trapped in a perpetual time loop: every time Endeavor is destroyed, time rewinds 24 hours and the loop begins again.

Points of Interest: While everyone in Endeavor is unaware of the time loop, anyone from outside of this dimension retains their memories of each loop. Beneath the town is a hidden laboratory filled with alien technology. One device in particular is a helmet that allows the wearer to retain their memories, anything on their person, and the helmet itself, when time resets.

Hazards: Outside of the explosion and the time loop itself, there are no hazards specific to Countdown.

Inhabitants: The people of Endeavor are welcoming, friendly and brimming with small town charm. The town is also awash with engineers, military personnel and astronauts who have come to witness the launch. In the lab beneath the town, a small team of scientists are attempting to work out how to prevent the destruction of the rocket and the resulting time loop, though only one of them can wear the alien helmet and preserve their memories of previous loops.

#indie ttrpg #tabletop #ttrpg #ttrpg community #dnd #dungeons and dragons #ttrpg character #ttrpg design #ttrpg dev #dungeonsanddragons #tabletop games

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disneytva · 10 months

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Disney Streaming Services Brings "Hulu's Animayhem" Experience to SDCC With 20th Television Animation

Disney is bringing it to life through a massive fan experience that invites attendees to the 2-D world of some of its most famous adult animations. They're calling it "Hulu Animayhem: Enter the 2nd Dimension".

Hulu Animayhem: Enter the 2nd Dimension will be in the Bayfront Parking Lot July 20-23, and allows fans of Futurama, Bob’s Burgers, Family Guy, and more to interact with their favorite animated series and characters from 20th Television Animation.

“Solar Opposites”: INSIDE THE WALL (Hulu Original/20th Television Animation)

ZAP! Yumyulack has done it again. As fans enter the 2nd Dimension, they find themselves shrunken down and tossed into the beloved Wall, in this larger than life experience.

Season four premieres on August 14, 2023 with 10 episodes, followed by a Valentine’s Day Special coming in 2024.

“The Great North”: ALANIS BOREALIS (FOX/20th Television Animation)

Fans will step into the expansive Alaskian landscape to join Judy Tobin as she asks for life advice from her imaginary best friend and famed 90’s singer/songwriter Alanis Morrisette. A projected Alanis constellation will appear in the sky and fans can witness the fun, playful interactions between the characters (and maybe even pick up some tips themselves!).

“American Dad”: HALL OF INFINITE ROGERS (FOX/20th Television Animation)

The CIA’s most wanted alien has endless disguises. As fans continue to make their way through the experience, they get a look into just how infinite Roger’s collection of disguises really is!

“Family Guy”: 360 TIME TRAVEL & LIVING ROOM (FOX/20th Television Animation)

Step on Stewie’s infamous Time Travel Pad and take a trip through the 2nd Dimension with this unique photo opp.

Guests can also grab a photo on the iconic couch or just sit back and stay awhile as they enjoy the magnitude of Hulu Animayhem content Hulu has to offer.

“Archer”: WALL OF AGENCY HEROS (FX)

Playing homage to Archer’s opening credits, fans can step in to join the cast in this iconic photo moment.

“The Simpsons”: LIVING ROOM (FOX/Disney+/20th Television Animation)

The iconic living room has landed in front of the giant Hulu Animayhem TV. Guests can grab a photo or sit and stay awhile as they enjoy all the content Hulu has to offer.

“Bob’s Burgers”: GRAND RE-RE-RE OPENING (FOX/20th Television Animation)

Fans of Bob’s Burgers won’t be able to resist bellying up to the counter and snapping a pic with their favorite animated family – The Belchers.

“Futurama”: FUTURAMA HAS LANDED ON HULU (Hulu Original/20th Television Animation)

Futurama is BACK for a new season and will be debuting as a Hulu Original Monday, July 24!

The last piece of the activation will feature an incredible 55 ft replica of HQ, along with a crash-landed Planet Express ship. Inside HQ, fans will be able to immerse themselves in the beloved series with a variety of photo moments and immersive set builds.

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ckret2 · 7 months

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

It kinda goes like this.

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

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

####

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

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

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

Stan screamed.

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

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

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

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

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

And paused in the entryway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

Who else could he make miserable?

####

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

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

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

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

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

"What the devil is he up to now."

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

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

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

He smirked.

####

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

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

####

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

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

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

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

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

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

Ford laughed ruefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ford scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

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

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

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

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

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

Ford let out a strangled noise.

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

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

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

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

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

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

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

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

"Ford—?"

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

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

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

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

####

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

####

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry I asked."

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

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

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

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

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

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

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

Bill's blood ran cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll be devastated."

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

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

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

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

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

####

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

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #ford pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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