I know Bill's the big bad demon everyone is afraid of and he will protect his husband at all costs (when no one's looking), but I think it's also worth mentioning that Dipper, even being the dorky, squishy human that he is, also cares about his dumb demon hubby and wants to keep him safe, even if it annoys Bill, and really, he doesn't need protecting the way Dipper does. He isn't going to puff out his chest and get in someone's face like some macho man, but I think Dipper knee-jerk reaction when Bill's in "danger" isn't to just shrug because he's an all-powerful demon who can handle it. If a blast that could level a whole town was aimed at Bill's head (for him, this just means a bad hair day and a new body), Dipper's immediate impulse is to push him out of the way or defend him against whatever wants to kill his familiar. Because he's not thinking "Bill could literally end this match in .3 seconds." He's thinking "if you touch even one hair on that asshole's head, I'm going to knock yours clean off your shoulders." I don't know what the point even is in this post, just that Dipper is this nerdy, unassuming guy who ends up being viciously protective under the right conditions. Like I think Dipper pulls off the bloody and vengeful look SO well that Bill immediately melts and just lets him handle the situation, even though it's not really Dipper's fight to begin with. He's beating the guy to a pulp with zero reserve, and Bill's off to the side swooning and twirling his hair over his man for getting his hands dirty for him.
It's true! While Bill's not the type to enjoy being underestimated, he has to admit! Seeing his adorable husband all riled up on his behalf is a hell of a sight.
The thing is, Dipper's a good guy! He can't help but put himself in danger over others. Even when all reason and logic say that Bill would be absolutely fine if he got his head exploded or a shiv in his kidney, Dipper's instinct is to fully and immediately get in the way of that. To, in fact, be protective.
Mostly this is only evident when Dipper has to stand up to Ford. Yes, yes, Bill's a vile horrible monstrosity, but he didn't do that particular thing you're accusing him of. Watching him stand up to his uncle is a particular treat!
For bigger threats, though - Well. Bill's gonna be absolutely fine, no matter what happens, thank you very much. But he's definitely not opposed to seeing some guy who was about to literally stab him in the back get a few of his teeth knocked out.
69 notes
·
View notes
"stop making [media] your whole personality"
ah... okay. yes. so.
first off:
there's this neurodivergent thing, where you use an interest as a filter for processing the world.
for some people that is called a "special interest," for others with different needs it is more of a "hyperfixation;" there are far more variations than i (or the field of psychology) know how to describe now. if you want to understand the difference there are people who can explain those variations better than me. but i can tell you what it feels like.
you discover something.
it doesn't matter what it is; you find something that speaks to you, something you can connect to, and it becomes a bubble of safe habitat from which you can rest from and explore and connect to all the other parts of this strange chaotic world.
a source of joy. a source of illumination.
it's like you're a person who has lived all their life in dark caves and you find something that glows.
these interests can be anything.
(literally anything; i personally derive meanings that you could never imagine from ✨ drainage ditches. ✨)
but very often, they are stories. tv shows, books, movies, comics, songs, podcasts, minecraft improv streams, cartoons, web serials, whatever
these things are:
tangible. you can hold them in your hands, replay them, turn on the subtitles, take screenshots, read the sheet music
and yet
real. they form a genuine connection from your (isolated, untranslatable) internal world to other (formerly unknowable) people and the rest of the universe
they create meaningfulness
and they exist because humans find these incredibly effective soul-deep ways of communicating to one another.
now, appreciating stories, that's not a neurodivergent thing. that's a human thing.
the point of relevance here is that experiencing an extreme love for stories is a neurodivergent thing.
it's a very common neurodivergent trait which often gets mocked, portrayed as childish, and used as a pretext for infantilization and bullying.
(and it is also a trait of young people in general, to take stories very seriously in a way that looks silly to adults, and that is something that many people (regardless of age) try to bully out of each other.
what good is that doing anyone?)
"stop making [x] your whole personality"
listen, you. get down off that goddamn embankment and climb down into this ditch with me. dip your toes in this oily water. watch the stars and city lights ripple into constellations you've never seen
now look me in the eye
you need to understand that no matter what lowbrow, cringey, problematic or otherwise not-to-your-tastes drivel you might be complaining about today,
you are talking about the phenomenon of creativity
you are talking about a transcendent catalyst of human emotion
and yes that includes the overmilked disney franchises, it includes the formulaic shippy fanfictions, it includes whatever brightly-colored cartoon this website is obsessed with this year (and will be having incredibly dramatic meltdowns over next year), it includes the cheesy action movies and the fanservicey anime and the badly-designed video games and the milquetoast tiktok "literature", it includes the indistinguishable scribbles of some random five-year-old and/or famous fine artist and/or precocious elephant
i get it. you care about real life and touching grass and shit. you have taste. just take the stilts off your horse for a second, okay?
i know you're probably sick of "let people like things" discourse
i would just like for you to stop for a second and take a deep breath, and let the stench of whatever is in this mud puddle wash over you (yeah i know, ew, but you'll be fine) and consider
what is so bad about having a cringey personality, anyway?
and maybe you will think better of making "stop making [some silly moment in the universe] your personality" into your personality and maybe you will come off as a little bit less of a snob/ableist/ass and maybe you will have a slightly better outlook on life among humans.
that's all. yeah you can get out of the gutter now. thank you for coming to my ted talk—
ooh wait, look, a bottle cap
239 notes
·
View notes
#98
“And lo! Here approaches my best knight,” the king announces to the jester as the knight squeezes through the door. The poor jester looks thankful to see her as he hurries out of the king’s gaze. “Come, show me your skill.”
The knight throws a few carefully angled swings for the king. He watches with a delighted expression, but she can see the soullessness in his eyes. Her stomach flips uncertainly.
“You are an excellent swordsman, knight,” he says flatly. “Now, tell me, why should I allow you to stay within my walls?”
The jester averts his gaze awkwardly. Is she about to get fired? “… Because I’m an excellent swordsman and your best knight,” she tries, and the king huffs in his telltale way of saying WRONG.
“Perhaps that was on me for being unspecific.” He picks up a wine glass from the golden table next to his throne, swirling it idly. “I hear you liaise with dragons.”
The knight’s attempt to keep her expression neutral fails miserably. The king watches with keen interest as her eyes widen and her mouth moves in an abysmal attempt to form some sort of defence. She’s acutely aware of the jester watching curiously too—whatever she says next will be the castle’s gossip for the next month. Maybe two if nothing of interest happens before then.
Well shit. Might as well fall into treason headfirst.
She reaches a hand into the front of her breastplate, earning a soft squeak from something inside. The king leans forward on his throne. The jester peers as close as he dares.
Her hand comes back with a short purple string laced around her fingers. Or she does at first glance, and closer inspection reveals her ribbon to be a tiny dragon, yawning and digging tiny claws into her fingers.
The king roars so loud the dragon startles. The knight and the jester don’t fare much better. “Beast!” he howls.
“Beast! Beast! Beast! Beast!” the room echoes back to them.
“You bring this creature within my walls?” he demands. “You slander my name—my rule—with your disregard to my kindness for you?”
“She’s harmless!” the knight cries over him. The dragon isn’t a fan of the racket, and is making a great effort to slip up her sleeve. “She looks after my finances.”
“Disgusting beast,” the king spits.
“The dragon,” the jester says quietly, valiantly ignoring the way the king’s stare snaps to him, “is your accountant?”
The knight fishes a coin from her pouch, gently tapping the dragon with its edge. Its gaze snaps to her gold, its past endeavour with her sleeve forgotten as it grapples for her coin. It twists its body around it excitedly, gnawing at the edge like a toddler, a quiet hum emitting from it as it does.
“That noise it is making,” the king shrieks, “it is going to attack!”
“No!” the knight shouts over him. “It’s like a cat—she’s purring. It means she’s happy.”
“Dragons do not purr,” the king retorts, but the dragon is undeniably making a noise that sounds remarkably like purring. The jester takes a cautious step closer.
The knight tucks her finger under her chin, giving it a hearty scratch. The dragon’s humming gets louder, her eyes closing blissfully at the touch.
“How does it… work?” the jester asks. The knight offers him a smile that she hopes conveys how grateful she is for his interest in the face of the king’s disgust.
“She takes my coins—my salary, my earnings, anything.” The knight adjusts her hand so the dragon sits more comfortably in her palm. She doesn’t seem to mind, too busy clamping her jaw around the gold to notice. “She keeps a hoard no one but her can find. I earned her trust, and whenever I need money she gives it to me.”
“She is a thief,” the king spits, but the rage is losing momentum in the face of such a cute little thing. The knight doesn’t miss how she’s suddenly not an ‘it’.
“I give her all the money she has. She’s just better at keeping money than most humans,” the knight says with a grin, “because she doesn’t spend it all in a tavern.”
The jester snorts. The king raises his eyebrows. Silence falls for a moment as they all watch the dragon get comfortable in the knight’s hand, her tiny body choking her coin, a claw wrapped around her thumb as she nestles in and closes her eyes.
The jester lets out a short “aww,” that’s louder than he probably intended.
“Tsch,” the king says. He leans back in his throne like he’s lost interest. “A beast is a beast. I am most displeased you were disloyal to my word, knight.”
“I apologise, your majesty,” the knight says. It’s all she can say, really. “I will fix things.”
“You… may keep the thing,” the king continues after a moment of intense deliberation. The knight attempts to not to look too surprised. The jester doesn’t even try. “But it is your accountant and nothing more. If I discover it torching my palace I will execute both it and you.”
“Accounting is what she’s best at, your majesty,” the knight says brightly. “You’ll never have to see her again.”
The king nods shortly, though his gaze is traitorously locked onto the purple ball in her hand. “I would not be adverse, knight,” the king says slowly, like he doesn’t quite want to, “if you felt it right to study. We did not know dragons purr, or like coin.”
“Your majesty?”
“Gather your resources and come back to me with knowledge of the beasts.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I will reconsider your treasonous actions if you can prove that your creature poses no threat to my rule or my people.”
A lot of questions are rattling through her brain. “Your majesty, what do—”
“That is all. Jester!” The king turns his attention away from her and back to the jester as he takes centrestage, looking a lot less stressed than before. He gives her a subtle nod and the lightest smile—a small gesture between the servants of the castle, a simple well done.
The knight leaves the hall with the king’s uproaring laughter following her. The dragon stays curled in her hand, and she runs her thumb over it carefully, the dragon’s body warm and prickly to the touch.
A knight to a scholar in one conversation. She doesn’t even know how to write.
22 notes
·
View notes