#and a dude playing classical music i don't know

[bloomingbora]

people are matching their photocards with random cds on twitter, so i joined and decided to share them on this hellsite too

[misskamelie]

Like, at the end of the day I should do things according to my strengths while trying to improve my weaknesses. And I know perfectly well that I'm quite slow at learning pieces (mainly because I haven't actually played *that* high number of pieces in my studies), so I don't see why I shouldn't cater to that whenever possible + this is partly balanced out by me being quick at learning/applying proper expressiveness and dynamics stuff, so *shrugs*

[ladykailitha]

Whatever You Need I've Got It

Just a little silly thing I thought of watching The Airborne Toxic Event music videos and how it seemed like whenever they needed violin, piano, tambourine...whatever it was always Anna Bulbrook playing.

So what if we steddified it? Steve just picking up whatever instrument Corroded Coffin needs to fill out a song and suddenly he's on tour with them and Eddie still isn't sure how it happened.

****

Eddie was getting frustrated. The band had been working on this song for the last two weeks, but there was still something missing. And he only had mere minutes to finish it before Steve came to pick him up.

Not because they were dating or anything, though...Eddie mentally slapped the side of his head. He was getting off track. Steve was picking him up because his van was in the shop until Friday and Steve had offered to taxi him around.

Like the fucking saint he was.

He screamed his rage, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. But into the resulting silence, he realized it had become too quiet.

When he looked up he saw Steve standing there with a shocked expression on his face.

"You good there, man?" he asked with a grimace.

"Don't mind him," Brian huffed. "He always gets like this when we're stuck on a song."

"Can I hear it?" Steve asked.

Everyone just looked at each other, not speaking.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, not a metalhead, I know. But I am a classically trained musician, maybe I can figure out where it's gone wrong."

"Fine by me," Jeff said with a shrug. "What's it going to hurt?"

Eddie looked up at Steve's earnest face and sighed. "All right, if there are no objections. Let's start it at the top."

And the band played.

"Play it again," Steve muttered.

They looked at each other again, but Eddie just shrugged and they played it again.

Steve nodded. "Okay, I think I've got it. Can I borrow that old keyboard for a sec?"

Gareth looked behind him with a frown. "I mean I guess."

Steve set it up and plug it in. "Brian start on your cue."

The band watched as Brian laid on the base. Steve nodded in time to the music and then began to play a melody on the keyboard. He pointed to Gareth who immediately started banging away.

Eddie came in on vocals and suddenly the song was really coming together.

They practiced it a couple more times, Steve playing the melody line on the keyboard and when they were done all four of the Corroded Coffin boys stared at him in shock.

"Holy shit dude," Jeff said. "What the fuck was that?"

Gareth nodded. "Yeah, man. Eddie hear can play by ear and read music, but that was something else entirely."

"You're going to have to play it with us on Tuesday at the Hideout," Brian said.

Jeff and Gareth agreed. They all turned to Eddie, Steve included.

"I don't know why you're looking at me," Eddie huffed. "I'm down."

Steve just grinned.

****

But then it kept happening. The song was a hit with the Tuesday crowd because of course it was.

They were working on a song and again they were running up against a brick wall. They had already incorporated Steve's piano into it, but it was still missing an extra beat.

They had gotten permission to practice at local college's music room and Steve was getting bored.

He had his part down. There were only a couple of parts were the piano came in so he cast his eyes around the room looking for something mess around with.

His eyes lit up when he spotted his prize. He walked over to the table and picked it up, the clatter of the small metal jingles rattling as he did so.

The band stopped playing and glared at him.

"Don't mind me," he said smugly. "Keep playing."

They went back to starting from the top and as Gareth came in on the drums Steve hit the instrument against the side of his leg in time to the beat.

It stunned Brian so much he missed his cue, his jaw on the floor.

"Stevie..." Eddie said warningly. "What was that?"

Steve grinned. "You said you needed an extra beat. I'm providing the extra beat. Just trust me."

The other band members looked at each other, but did as he suggested.

Sure enough when the chorus came in, and Steve started playing the tambourine, it took everything ounce of professionalism the band had not ground to a complete stop. Then for the verses Steve would play his part on the piano and it just blended so well.

Eddie ran his fingers over his face. "Jesus Christ, Stevie, warn a dude, yeah? You are just sitting over there like a musical genius and it's seriously making the rest of us look bad."

Steve thew back his head and laughed.

"So it's a hit then?"

Everyone groaned.

Jeff shook his head. "Yeah, man. It was a hit."

Steve just grinned.

****

They were recording their first real album in a real studio and while the producers were a little unsure about this weirdo who dressed more like Bruce Springsteen than Kirk Hammett, they had contracted the whole band so they let it slide.

It took Steve two weeks to impress the producers.

Steve had been using the studio off hours (which he did pay them for) to record lullabies on the violin for Robin and Lucas. Violins were the only things that would soothe their anxieties and keep the nightmares at bay.

He had finished his little recording about an hour ago was merely laying down melodies and such that he would play back to see if he liked them.

If only his parents could see him now. Using all that classically trained music to guess Russian code, play lullabies for frightened kids, and preform in a metal band.

Clint Harrington would probably keel over on the spot.

He was so wrapped up in the music, just letting it flow over him that he didn't notice that he had gathered an audience.

He finally stopped and the mic from the sound booth crackled to life startling him.

"Shit, Stevie," Eddie's warm voice said from above him. "Do you think you could play that haunting melody again?"

Steve blushed and then shrugged. "I mean I guess. It was just me playing around. Why?"

"Because everyone in here thinks it's just what Blood-Red Skies needs."

Steve furrowed his brow and then nodded. "Can you pump the track in through the speakers?"

"Yeah," Eddie said breathless. "Just give me a moment to find it."

It was barely a moment or two before Steve's tape was replaced by the recording of the song.

The song was hauntingly beautiful. Eddie only singing vocals as rest of the band played.

It was raw and emotional.

Steve let the song play through before he signaled to play it again.

This time when Eddie begins to sing, Steve begins to play the violin. That beautifully sad sound he had played just to get it out of his head beginning to raise.

"Holy shit!" a new voice came through. It was their producer Kenny Fontaine. "You made that up?"

Steve shrugged. "Sometimes I get music in my head and I need to get out."

"Teach me to play the piano part!" Eddie blurts wrestling the mic away from Kenny. "So that when we play it live you can be on violin and I can sing and play."

Steve grinned. "I'd love that."

I love you.

****

They are playing it on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson to promote the release of Blood-Red Skies.

The tension between Eddie and Steve is thick that Johnny calls them out on it.

And that's when Steve leaned over and kissed Eddie right on the lips.

Johnny is absolutely freaking out and in a good way.

They spend the rest of the interview tucked into each other's sides like puzzle pieces.

Even later, ten years down the line when Corroded Coffin is selling out stadiums, Eddie and Steve always end the song with a kiss.

****

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@tinyplanet95

[brights-place]

Hi! May I request headcannons for John Dory and/or Branch with a Classical troll s/o :)

Dating an Classical Troll

Pairings: John Dory X Reader, Branch X Reader,

Warnings: None

A/N: Broppy isn’t cannon in this one well except for JD’s part. Okie dokie! Also THE CLASSICAL TROLLS ARE SO SWEET AND CUTE

John Dory

- That would be an shock when his brothers found out HE was dating an CLASSICAL TROLL

- like… everybody would be so shocked

- Classical trolls where known for being highly cultured and their music mainly focusing on the an Orchestral part.

- Their music lacks lyrics instead putting more emphasis on harmonies and instruments. They take their music very seriously…

- so when they find out THE JD is dating an classical troll they are shocked jaws to the floor and not believing so

- as the troll that likes to show off and also as one to prove that it’s true he takes them to where the classical trolls lives

- JD was greeted by some classical trolls and others just snicker when seeing JD knowing who he was searching for.

- He was in the middle of the town square

- “DARLIN! YOU HERE?” JD said his hands cupped through his hands “Dude Your lying there’s no way you would be dating an classical troll- Oh damn” “Told you Guys :]”

- When they heard an voice call out happily towards JD they were even more shocked on how you darted quickly to JD and hugged him

- Your small wings flapping as you held your instrument in your other hand before grinning towards the new trolls which JD introduced as his family and branch is girlfriend (Poppy)

- You’d happily greet them and when they left you’d chat to JD telling him you have to go back to the orchestra

- He’d follow behind and watch you in awe and in an loving gaze

- When he heard your music he keeps quiet since he knows that he shouldn’t be loud while you all play since it’s seen disrespectful.

- The first time he did it he had gotten the stink eye from everyone until you explained the proper manners and he understood quickly

- You two dance together but it's you doing ballroom dancing and him is just normal pop dance moves which is so sweet and funny

- You two share songs you both enjoy when he teaches you pop your interested and when you teach him classical he’s invested cause he loves how your face lights up when you talk about your genre

- Loves when you fly around Even loves it more when you pick him up and fly around together it’s fun for him and fun for you

- despite hour small size your physically quite strong, able to lift other Trolls off the ground and can give bone crushing hugs…

- JD enjoyed your hugs but sometimes he feels like the life is squeezing out of him

- He knows you got balancing issues when you try to walk or run cause classical trolls mainly fly so he tries to help the best he can

- He knows that Pride and Ego are important in your culture so he make sure to make your face in town the best

- but in private he loves how you act out from your ‘Classical’ mask and shift to your normal one when with him

- Loves when you cuddle and don’t try to crush him

- he enjoys your affection and the time you take with him.

- He loves you no matter what even though he still tries to get the hang of not cheering you on when preforming sometimes <33

Branch

- Branch wouldn’t talk about it at all

- He wouldn’t say he’s dating an classical troll but it got found out by Poppy who was wondering where he has been going for awhile - The only troll who DID knew was Floyd

- Branch would tell the group off for following him mainly poppy for following him but he gets interrupted when an Classical troll tackles him into an hug laughing and flying in the air with him in his arms

- Classical trolls where known for being strong yet having trouble to run and walk if they don't fly - Would ask you to put him down to introduce you to his brothers and friends - once they met you they where shocked since you were the opposite of Branch - after they left you asked if branch if he wanted to watch you play with the orchestra he'd just follow along

- He knows basic etiquette of classical troll culture, and knows you take your music very seriously you told him that the music lacks lyrics instead you add putting more emphasis on harmonies and instruments.

- He loves how you play your instrument smoothly and can't help but grin

- Would compliment you once your done with your show

- Loves when you pick him up to fly around and you two go cloud watching and star gazing

- It may not seem like it but he's the slow romantic, and passionate type of person

- Loves hugging you and cares for you so much even enjoys when you two waltz together to your music

- You and him share diffrent songs and takes not of everything you like and makes small items for you two

- he made you an new Instrument when yours broke in half

- he loves holding your wings in his hands since their soft even though he knows its sensitive to touch sometimes but he finds it so cool

- he enjoys holding your hand but he's sometimes scared you'll crush him

- he tries to help you so much due to your balancing issues he makes you an walking stick to help you

- Will adore your kisses and your fluffy hair

- let his hand go through your hair its so soft to him and would fall asleep cuddling you

- he loves how your face lights up when you talk about your genre of music.

- despite hour small size your physically quite strong, able to lift other Trolls off the ground and can give bone crushing hugs… he loves your hugs so much - No matter what genre he will always love you.

[maxlarens]

oscar and 31?

31) doing a pinky swear

random but i listened to this and this dj set while writing this

It’s difficult to resist the lure of the music, the dance floor that churns and pulses at your back. The DJ cycles through euro-pop, 2000s anthems and countless club classics that make you itch to get up and dance, something tugging in your gut when you don't.

Max and Lando have already gone into the thick of it, leaving you and Oscar at the booth. And you've decided that you're not leaving Oscar. If he's not getting on the dance floor then you aren't either. Even if your leg is about to fall off from how much you've been tapping it to the beat and you keep tipping your head back to say oh, dude, I love this song.

He'd made some offhand comment the other day, when you and Lando first made these plans, something about how he was boring, of all things. How he wouldn't be any fun at a club. It's been eating at you since. The way he'd said it, not like it was something he came to on his own, but rather, like it was something someone had told him.

The absolute last thing Oscar Piastri is is boring.

You hate that he thinks he is, you hate that he thinks he needs to be a certain way to make you happy. To make anyone happy. And you certainly don't care if he doesn't want to dance at a club— no one's going to die if he doesn't, and you'll survive a few hours in the booth until Max tires of Lando and his boundless energy.

Across from you, Oscar's taking sips of his vodka pineapple. His pale cheeks have been steadily turning more red the more alcohol that he drinks, it's cute. You're turning your drink in circles, watching it leave condensation rings on the linoleum table. The DJ is playing a remix of Murder on the Dancefloor and you're about to tip your head back and groan oh my god I love this song,

but Oscar is laughing before the words can even leave your mouth.

"You love this song too?", he raises his very nice eyebrows at you, smiling that closed mouth polite cat smile everyone likes so much.

You sigh, laugh, then roll your eyes at yourself, "Yeah. Love it."

He smiles into his drink, it turns into something a little bittersweet after a moment of you watching him. You think of the sad way he'd twitched his nose the other day, while he was telling you he was boring. Without thinking, spurred on by the alcohol, you lean across the table and swat his hand with yours. But you don't move after, you just slip your fingers into the grooves of his knuckles.

"What are you thinking?"

He bites the inside of his bottom lip, shrugs, "Nothing important."

You're not convinced.

"Is this about you thinking you're boring, Oscar?" —he raises an eyebrow at you, one that says maybe, one that says go on— "Because you are not fucking boring, Piastri."

He laughs, but its critical, disbelieving. More of a scoff than a laugh, but he doesn't want you to catch on. He's trying to act like it's all fine. That's how he is— it's fine it's fine he says and he doesn't let anyone see that things hurt him. He's so good, so nice, so unwilling to make anyone else feel bad.

Positive, optimistic to a fault.

"You're not," you insist, pressing your fingertips into his knuckles.

He shrugs again, "I'm keeping you here. I know you want to go dance. You should go.”

You’re shaking your head before he can finish, “Oscar. Please, I will live. Anyway, sometimes I want to spend time with you without Lando hanging around, y’know.”

Oscar snorts, sincerely this time, “Yeah, he’s—”

“Annoying,” you supply.

“I was going to say a pain.”

“Same thing.”

“Mm,” Oscar snickers, “S’pose so.”

Then,

“Are you sure you want to stay here with me?”

You slide your fingers down to his wrist, gently turning his arm around so it faces upward. His skin is smooth where you trace the lines in his palm. You're both quiet, looking down at your hands where they're intertwined. If you're honest, you've kind of forgotten why you did that— your thoughts feel loose, a bit disconnected. Oscar is warm and sweet and here. You just wanted to touch his hand you think. You trace a line up his ring finger without thinking.

"I'm sure," you say, a little breathless for no good reason.

"Promise."

"Huh?", you drift your gaze up to his.

Polite cat smile, he repeats, "Promise?", it's more of a question now.

You nod seriously, curling your fingers into a fist and sticking your pinky finger out, "I pinky promise, Oscar."

He does the same, lifting his hand up in offering. Your pinkies lock together, he squeezes tightly and you pull against him, like the tighter the promise is the more that you mean it.

[ckret2]

Chapter 31 of human Bill grudgingly enduring being the Pines' prisoner because the Henchmaniacs won't take his call: Summerween night! Everyone gets ridiculous costumes!

The Summerween Trickster's buddies are attempting to resurrect him. Robbie's making a music video. Bill's attempting to woo Ford back into friendship, to terrify Dipper with cursed knowledge, and to recover his dignity from THE most gentle chastising imaginable, and he only succeeds in 1 out of 3 of these endeavors:

It's not this one. He's just gotta process these emotions while wearing that stupid wig.

####

Soos was putting the final touches on his cosplay (the suave and mysterious Masked Guy In A Suit, love interest of the heroine from the classic anime Teenage Planetary Soldier Girls) when he heard the phone ring in the office. "Hold on, I'll get it!" He hurried downstairs, ducked under a construction paper chain Mabel had strung over the door, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

A mysterious voice droned, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Oh, no thanks, we don't want any." Soos hung up, sighed happily, and said, "Ah, Summerween. Always brings out the weirdos."

"Hey Soos!" Mabel ducked into the doorway. "Where's the candy bowl?"

"Oh, hey Hambone. It's in my bedroom." He put on a stage whisper. "I put it in there so Bill couldn't steal it."

"Thanks Soos!" She ran upstairs.

Dipper and Bill waited downstairs, the tension thick between them (on Dipper's side, anyway; Bill—watching a black-and-white horror movie, sipping at a can of cider, and brooding over going to voicemail—didn't notice). Dipper was waiting by the door in a folding chair; but he kept glancing toward Bill in the living room. When the silence got too much to bear, he asked, "Okay, what are you dressed as?"

Bill was wearing a brown bedsheet toga (the most historically-accurate part of his costume); a cheap wig of a teased mullet that had ended up mostly red with yellow streaks, forming a plume of hair right over his head and then a long straight tail he'd draped over his shoulder; and a bunch of paper faux-Greek homes taped all around the hem of his toga, forming a ring around his calves.

"And are those my sandals?" Dipper asked.

"Take it up with Mabel, she loaned them on your behalf," Bill said. "I'm not telling my costume. You have to guess it."

"Seriously?" Dipper sighed. It had to be a god, gods towered over their mortals' temples. What god would wear brown? "I don't know—Demeter?"

"What? No. Do I seem like the Demeter type? Pathetic." Bill waved off his guess. As Mabel ran downstairs, Bill said, "Hey, Shooting Star, you haven't made your official guess yet."

Without hesitation, Mabel said, "A time-traveling hair metal singer touring the Roman Empire and trying to find a way home before his hair dye runs out."

"Wrong, but I would love to live in the world you've dreamed up." He meandered into the entryway to join Mabel as she plopped down in the second chair by the door.

Dipper screwed up his face. "Are you helping us answer the door?"

"No, you're helping me answer the door. I'm cursed, remember?" Bill leaned over Mabel's shoulder, dug into the candy bowl, and popped a lollipop in his mouth. "But you're not getting rid of me, if that's what you're asking."

Soos headed to the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Hey dudes. Hey Bill." He paused in the door, studying Bill. "Hey! Is that a Bobo the Uncouth Berserker cosplay?"

Bill blinked. "Who?"

"Bobo the Uncouth Berserker! You've gotta read Bobo. He's this primitive hero descended from lost Lemuria who goes on daring adventures through the lush impenetrable jungles of Central Europe. He's got this comic that was so popular it spawned an anime, which got an American movie adaptation, which formed the basis of a second comic continuity that isn't as critically acclaimed as the original but has drawn in a lot of new fans... and..." Soos petered out. "You're not Bobo, are you."

Bill shook his head. "Thanks for playing."

"Aw." Soos's shoulders slumped. "Anyway—me and Melody are gonna be at the cosplay contest at the theater. I'll keep my phone on in case of monsters."

"We'll be fine!" Mabel said. "Go have fun!"

"You too!" With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Soos disappeared into the night.

Bill watched Soos go enviously. He could have been given a human body that looked that good in a suit and top hat, but was he? No. It wasn't fair. And Soos didn't even wear the right hat size.

Dipper glanced sideways at Bill. "Hey. Is... Lemuria real?"

"Not anymore." Bill perked up as Stan passed by, dressed like Frankenstein's monster. "Hey, Stanley! You haven't guessed yet. What am I?"

Stan surveyed him. "White columned buildings, Statue of Liberty dress, and a red clown wig. I dunno, the American government?"

Bill squawked in laughter. "That's my favorite wrong answer so far. I like you, Stanley." He fished a chocolate bar out of the bowl and held it out.

Stan grunted in disapproval, but accepted the candy. "If any of you need me, I'm gonna be up on the roof, terrifying kids." He held up a boombox and a cassette that said "Spooky Sound Effects of Halloween". "If you hear screaming children, don't worry: that means I'm winning."

"Where's your brother?" Bill asked.

"Avoiding you." Stan passed through the living room and left.

Bill's shoulders slumped; but he just dug into the candy bowl for more chocolate. Then the first trick-or-treater knocked on the door, and Dipper jumped up in relief to answer it.

The shack didn't attract quite as many trick-or-treaters as the houses closer to the center of town, but they got a steady stream of children, and more than they'd gotten the year before. Between visitors, Bill dug into their candy stock, gleefully ignoring Dipper's complaints. After the fourth or fifth visitor, Dipper and Mabel realized that Bill was covering up the amount of candy he'd pilfered by meticulously re-folding the empty wrappers and putting them back in the bowl.

"It's fair play," Bill said. He untwisted one end of a Twisty Roll tube, squeezed out the candy, blew into the wrapper to re-inflate it, and twisted the end shut again. "The kids are trick-or-treating, right? Sometimes they get treats and sometimes they get tricks."

"Come on, seriously?" Dipper said. "Even for you this is low. You're literally taking candy from babies."

"The babies are trying to take candy from us. I have no sympathy." With the precision of an origami master, Bill refolded a paper fruit chew wrapper into a box and dropped it back into the bowl.

"They're supposed to take candy from us, that's how the holiday works." Dipper looked at Mabel for support.

But she was holding up an empty 3 Fencers wrapper and squeezing it lightly between her fingers. "Wow. How did you make the wrapper puffy again? It's so convincing."

Bill shot Dipper a nasty smile, then turned to Mabel and said magnanimously, "I'll teach you everything I know." He twirled a glue stick between his fingers.

Another trick-or-treater knocked, and Dipper answered.

"Trick or treat! Please give us the worst candy you have."

Mabel blinked, leaning around Dipper to see who was outside. "Wait, what?"

Outside stood a purple-furred monster with a dozen limbs from a dozen different creatures. He gasped in surprise. "Ohhh, twin costumes! That's so cute! What are you two, haunted dolls?"

Dipper took a surprised step back. "Limby Jimmy?"

The monster was silent a moment, taken aback. He took off a bear mask he'd made out of a paper plate. "Is it that obvious?"

Mabel asked, "Have we...?"

Dipper said, "Oh! Sorry—Mabel, this is Limby Jimmy, I ran into him last year in the Crawlspace under town when I was trying to get your face back—"

Helpfully, Bill threw in, "He's Gravity Falls' most accomplished arms dealer. And legs dealer, and tails dealer, and ears dealer..."

"Limby, this is my sister Mabel. Actually, I don't know if I ever introduced myself—"

Limby Jimmy cut in, "Ohhh, yeah, I remember you! You're Troll Boy, right?"

Dipper winced. "It's—it's Dipper, actually." He paused. "Wow. We meet a lot of weird people."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" Mabel held out a hand. After a moment of thought, Jimmy elected to shake it with a tentacle and a dog's paw.

"What are you doing up here?" Dipper asked. "Is Summerween the one night of the year that Gravity Falls' monsters can walk among humans without fear?"

"Oh no, I'm terrified. I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't collecting donations," Jimmy said.

"Donations?"

Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice. "You've been in the Crawlspace, so, you and your sister are cool, but is the lady...?" He wiggled a hoof toward Bill.

Coolly, Bill said, "I'm actually an ancient interdimensional energy being cursed to wear a human form."

Dipper and Mabel flinched in alarm and rounded on Bill, hissing, "Bill!" "Shhh!"

Ignoring them, Bill said, "So, continue."

"Oh," Jimmy said brightly. "That's all right then, yuk yuk." He wiggled his multitude of right arms. "I don't know if you humans have heard yet, but the Summerween Trickster got eaten to death last summer! It's really sad!"

Dipper and Mabel, who had watched as he was eaten to death, stayed quiet.

"But probably happy for him?" Jimmy mused. "Since I think that's what he wanted? But it's sad for the rest of his poker group, we all miss him! So I'm out here with Doug—"

"Who?" Dipper asked, looking around the porch for a second monster.

"Oh, he's back there." Jimmy pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing around the Mystery Shack. The tree chittered unnervingly. "We're going around collecting donations to resurrect the Trickster! Or... re-summon him? Or however this works. We never really asked him how he came to exist, it seemed rude."

"Naturally," Bill said. "You can't just ask a freak what made him so freaky. It's a sensitive topic."

"Right! You understand," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we need a lot of crappy candy!" He looked at their bowl. "Which pieces have the kids been ignoring this year?"

Mabel had started bouncing on the balls of her dusty Victorian ghost shoes; and the moment she had a turn to speak, she squealed in excitement. "You're the Summerween Trickster's friend! That's perfect! Stay here, I'll be right back!" She shoved the candy bowl into Bill's arms and zoomed up the stairs. "I've got some stuff for him!"

Bill looked at the bowl, looked at the stairs, shoved the candy in Dipper's arms, and followed Mabel. "Hey, Shooting Star? What are you doing?"

Her voice drifted down the stairs: "Getting a donation! I'll be just a minute!"

"Hold on, you're actually helping that guy?" Bill laughed. "Why?" He climbed high enough to poke his head above the attic floor  and lowered his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear. "I wasn't paying that much attention last Summerween, but I got the impression from your little costume store brawl that the Trickster was trying to kill you kids. Am I missing something?"

"I mean, yeah, he was—but he was in a really bad place back then, that doesn't mean he deserves to be dead for it. And now he knows someone out there wants to eat him, so maybe he'll be less insecure and evil." Mabel laughed, "Anyway, the Trickster isn't that bad! He didn't try to kill me half as hard as you did!"

Bill froze a couple of steps from the top of the stairs. He didn't move for a few seconds; and then wordlessly, he slunk back downstairs.

Dipper watched as Bill, face beet red, trudged into the living room. "Hey. What's Mabel...?"

"How should I know." Bill curled up on the couch, picked up the can of cider he'd been drinking earlier, shotgunned it, and glowered at the horror movie on TV.

Dipper considered Bill—all alone in the living room and not doing anything important—and considered Mabel, upstairs; and said, "Hey, Jimmy. Do you mind waiting out here until Mabel gets back."

"Sure! I don't have any plans." Jimmy rocked back on his many heels.

"Cool. Thanks." Dipper shut the door.

He sidled oh so very casually into the living room and leaned against the TV. "Guess it's just the two of us right now."

Bill's gaze didn't waver from the TV. "Terrific counting skills, Troll Boy." He popped open another cider can.

Dipper grit his teeth. Let it go. "Sooo! You're from the second dimension, huh? What's that like?" (His voice cracked embarrassingly on "that.") "Just—just curious. Making friendly conversation. Caaasual conversation." He flashed a pair of finger guns at Bill, to underscore just how casual he was. "Yyyep." Witness the junior paranormal investigator in action.

Bill turned the cold, empty eyes of a killer on Dipper. He took a long, slow sip from his cider. And he asked himself: what can I say that will make this stupid boy regret ever daring to speak to me?

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "You wanna know what it's like? Have you ever read the Allegory of the Cave?"

Dipper hesitated. "By... Plato?"

"That one. You know—ignorance is like being a prisoner chained in a cave, watching shadow puppets being cast on a wall, and thinking they're reality; and having knowledge is like being outside the cave in the sunlight, seeing the real shapes that are casting the shadows—"

"I have read it, actually," Dipper said, a tad defensively. "It was for extra credit in—"

"English class, I know."

Dipper frowned; but he soldiered on. "So... living in the second dimension is like being chained in a cave, staring at the shadows on the wall, and thinking that's reality? Bleak."

Bill laughed so loudly that Dipper started. "Wow, you're so dumb! Use your brain, kid: it's the second dimension. You're not the prisoner: you're the shadow on the wall." Bill's lip curled in a sneer, "An illusion in somebody else's allegory. And the only one who can see the cave's exit... is you. That's what the second dimension is like!" He laughed again. It sounded forced.

"Oh," Dipper mumbled. He tried to wrap his head around the idea of being a living metaphor for ignorance. "Sounds... pretty bad?"

"Awful," Bill agreed. "Doesn't hold a candle to what your dimension has going on, though."

"Wh... why, what's going on in the third dimension?"

Bill gave him a malicious smile, and Dipper had the sinking feeling he'd just walked into an obvious trap. "You idiot, you still think you're in the third dimension? Really?"

Was that a trick question? What answer was Bill looking for? What could this be if not the third dimension? "Nnooo?"

"Wow. I can really see why you're a straight-A's honors student," Bill said. "You're so good at figuring out what answer the test wants and regurgitating it—even if you don't actually understand it at all." He heaved himself back to his feet; and Dipper was sure there was something threatening in the movement—something that reminded Dipper that he was talking to a dangerously unstable extinction level event precariously packed into an unsteady human body. "Although copying the year of the Louisiana Purchase off of Brandon's test in fifth grade  probably didn't hurt, did it."

Dipper's stomach dropped. The secret shame buried beneath the foundation of his honors roll-worthy record. Pull that out and his entire academic career came toppling down. He'd get kicked out of the honors classes. He'd go to jail. Was cheating against the law? "H... how did—?"

"What year was the Louisiana Purchase?"

Dipper's brain immediately went blank. He was silent, trapped in the paralyzing intensity of Bill's gaze. After several terrifying seconds, he croaked, "1803?" and hoped he was right.

"Attaboy. Too bad you couldn't have learned that a little sooner, isn't it?" As he spoke, Bill had closed in on Dipper until he'd backed him into the corner behind the TV set, filling Dipper's exit route with one hand on the TV and the other on the wall. "But we were talking about dimensions, weren't we! Whaddaya like to read, kid," Bill asked too casually, "do you like cosmic horror? Do you know what real 'cosmic horror' is?"

Dipper regretted this conversation completely.

"It's having an eyeball on the inside of your body, and seeing another dimension through it. And ohoho, I think you'd be amazed at the things I can see from here—"

Dipper got the distinct impression that if he didn't get out of this conversation, he would only hear things he'd be telling his therapist about for months. "Cool! Good talk, man. Hey Mabel?" (That was an absolutely humiliating voice crack.) "How's it going?"

A pause. "I think I need help!"

"Coming!" Dipper ran behind the TV to escape Bill and gratefully bolted upstairs.

The kid had caved so fast. And Bill had only just been getting started. He smirked, sat, and turned back to the movie.

A moment later, Mabel and Dipper came back downstairs, carrying four bulging plastic grocery bags. Mabel set one by her feet, opened the door, and shoved the first bag into Jimmy's arms. "Here! You can give these to the Trickster!" She shoved over the second bag.

Jimmy stumbled back under the weight. "Whoa there! What is this?"

"Candy chalk-hearts! I completely bought out the leftovers after Valentine's Day," Mabel said. "I wanted to make sure that if we met the Trickster again, I could let him know he's loved and appreciated as the terrifying avatar of spooky holiday spirit that he is! And that I also respect that he's made out of gross candy nobody likes to eat." She picked up a chalk-heart box and waved it in Jimmy's face. "So here's a gross candy that expresses love! See, the little hearts say things like 'You smell nice' and 'I heart ur face,' but they taste like if dehydration was a flavor."

Dipper handed his bags to Jimmy. "Wait—Mabel, that's why you got all these? You've been planning to help the Trickster since February? I thought you were gonna build a chalk-heart house or something."

"Oooh, that's such a good idea. I should do that next year!" To Jimmy, she said, "I was gonna give these to him personally, but if he's still dead, I guess you can add it to his candy sacrifice pile or whatever? And make sure he gets this!" She handed Jimmy a store bought Shimmery Twinkleheart Valentine's card. It read, "I BELIEVE in our friendship! Happy Valentine's Day!" Mabel had scratched out "Valentine's" and written "Summerween".

Choked up, Jimmy said, "Oh—wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for us all night. I'm sure the Trickster will really appreciate it when he's not dead anymore."

Dipper was a little more vengeful. Dipper didn't want to do anything for one of the many guys that had tried to kill them last year. But, on the other hand, Mabel had just gone all in on this, and Jimmy seemed nice enough, so... Dipper sighed. Whatever, it was Summerween and this was a trick-or-treater. "Hey," he picked up the candy bowl. "There's really only one bag of good candy in here. The bottom of the bowl is filled with after-dinner mints our great uncle's been stealing from restaurants for the last six months. The Trickster would probably love that, right?"

"Aww—thanks so much, you guys! We'll have the poker group back together in no time!" Jimmy dug past the good candy and started scooping mints into his bag. "Oh—since I'm here, can I ask about our other poker buddy? Do either of you know Mr. What's-His-Face? He disappeared around the time you were visiting the Crawlspace, maybe one of you saw something? Any information would be helpful." Jimmy looked at them with weird, plus-shaped, but very hopeful eyes. "Between the Trickster's death and Whatsis disappearing, the local paranormal community's been hit hard. Especially us guys in their friend group. I'm—I'm not gonna lie," Jimmy heaved a sigh, "It's been a really hard year."

Dipper and Mabel, who were directly and personally at fault for Mr. What's-His-Face's disappearance and knew he was frozen in stasis in Ford's bunker at that very moment, exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement.

"Nope, don't know anything," Mabel said.

"Sorry, buddy," Dipper said.

Like the Summerween Trickster, Mr. What's-His-Face was a weird faceless shapeshifty monster that had tried to kill them. But they felt like that was where the similarities ended.

By the time of the Trickster's death, Mabel and Dipper had realized that his deepest inner longing was to be called good enough to eat. Mr. What's-His-Face's deepest inner longing was to steal innocent people's faces. If Mabel and Dipper helped resurrect the Trickster, he'd probably go back to ensuring everyone displayed sufficient holiday spirit, while hopefully mellowing out about eating people now that he'd been consumed once. On the other hand, if Mabel and Dipper helped free Mr. What's-His-Face, he'd probably just keep stealing faces.

And on top of all that, they could help resurrect the Trickster without admitting they knew the guy who ate him. They couldn't really lead Jimmy to Mr. What's-His-Face without admitting their great uncle was keeping him captive. And that would be a problem for the whole family.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay, that's fine. Thanks for all your help. You know where to reach us if you hear anything."

Mabel shook her head. Dipper nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Jimmy hopped off the porch, shouted, "Hey Doug, can you help me carry these?" and chucked a couple of bags of chalk-hearts toward the tree line. Dipper and Mabel stared. Nothing emerged to pick the bags up.

They shut the door.

"Man," Dipper said. "We kinda devastated the paranormal poker group last summer, didn't we?"

"Yeah." Mabel sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Wow. Feels... kinda bad."

Dipper offered her the candy bowl. "Drown our feelings in chocolate?"

"Please."

They grabbed a piece of candy each, tore open the wrappers—and frowned. Mabel stomped a foot. "Dang it—Bill!"

"Hm?"

"How many of these wrappers are empty?!"

Bill poked his head out of the living room and said, smugly, "Like candy from a baby!"

####

A knock, and Dipper opened the door. "Wendy! Hey! Good timing—"

"Hey." Wendy lowered her voice. "Quick question—this is super important—is Goldie here?"

"Uh—yeah, why—?"

"Yello?" Bill carefully wove his way out of the living room, already less steady on his feet than when he'd sat down. "I heard my name, who's summoning me?"

Wendy pointed over the twins at Bill and turned to shout into the dark, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Live and in person... Toga Lady!"

A half dozen teenagers immediately went bananas. Hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling: "To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!"

Bill's entire face lit up. Without missing a beat, he pushed past the baffled twins out onto the porch and spread his arms wide, basking in the cheering. "That's right, keep it coming! Worship me! I'm the greatest!"

"Yes!" Robbie pumped a fist in the air. "The legends were true!" Nate immediately added, "The prophecy! The prophecy!" Tambry snapped photos of Toga Lady's fresh look as fast as her phone could save them, muttering, "Everyone's gonna flip when they find out you're still in town."

Wendy waited, grinning, until her friends' faux hysterics had died down. "Okay—okay, after getting you hyped up, I should probably say that Toga Lady is actually Toga Guy." She glanced questioningly at Bill. "I think?"

"Eh, I'm not picky."

"Anyway this is Goldie, he was stuck in another dimension for thirty years, it's crazy, and now he's like my illegal backup cashier. He actually... doesn't usually wear togas?"

Bill laughed. "If you can't wear a bedsheet on Summerween, when can you?"

Lee said, "Thompson wore a bedsheet to homecoming."

"Hey."

Bill pointed at Thompson. "A man of impeccable fashion! I like it!" Thompson gave him a look of eternal gratitude.

"And Goldie, this is the gang! That's Thompson, he's the guy with the van; Robbie and Tambry, they're like, gender-swapped versions of each other, they even share their hair dye..."

As Wendy did introductions, Mabel whispered to Dipper, "Did you know she was gonna introduce Goldie to everyone?"

"No! This is bad, I told her not to trust him..."

Bill was responding to a question, "No, no, you've gotta guess, I'm making everyone guess!"

The teens considered the question. Robbie offered first, "Punk caveman?"

"Nope!"

Hesitantly, Thompson tried, "Nero fiddling over the burning of Rome?" He winced when Lee laughed.

"I like where your head's at, but no! I can't fiddle."

"The gremlin king from Huge Maze?" Tambry said.

Mabel piped up, "No, but the wig came from a gremlin king costume and I appreciate you for recognizing that!" Tambry nodded in cool approval.

Bill dispensed of Lee, Nate, and Wendy's guesses—Greek Christmas tree, that one guy who keeps painting burning banks, and hair metal Hades—before Robbie loudly cleared his throat to cut in. "Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but we've gotta move if we wanna be in position before sunset. Dipper, Mabel, you ready?"

"Ready to ghost it up!" Mabel said, squeezing around Bill with Dipper onto the porch.

Robbie surveyed their makeup—deathly white skin, ashen grey lips, and dark circles around their eye sockets. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Could use a little color, maybe. Like bloody tears?" He turned toward Tambry.

She said, "I think I've got some red eyeliner."

"'In position'?" Bill asked, giving Dipper and Mabel a questioning look.

Wendy said, "We're helping Robbie film this music video tonight."

"We're the creepy ghost twins!" Mabel announced proudly. "We get to sing the chorus."

Robbie said, "Yeah, the song's about childhood and growing up, but like, with ghosts? Because once you've grown up, your childhood is all dead? It's metal, but introspective. I'm calling the genre 'intrometal.'" He flipped his bangs dramatically. "It's a super deep song. Metaphorical layers."

"Oh yeah?" Bill stared Robbie down. "Sing some of it."

Robbie blinked. "Oh. Yeah, okay uh, I haven't warmed up my voice but, the hook is like—" He pantomimed playing a guitar and whisper-screamed, "'BABY DOLLS! BASKET BALLS! BASKET CASE! HUMAN RACE!' Like that."

Bill nodded slowly, face expressionless. "Ah, yeah, I see. Really deep stuff. Makes you think."

"Thanks." Robbie looked at Dipper and Mabel. "Anyway, if we're gonna get any footage in the graveyard before the jack-o'-melons start burning out, we've gotta move. Let's go, Creepy Ghost Twins."

"Wait, you're going out?" Bill asked Mabel. "Like out-out? Leaving me here? By myself? On Summerween?"

"Wh—yeah, we're only handing out candy for half the night," Mabel said. "I told you that."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"When?"

Mabel thought. "No I didn't," she admitted. "Sorry!"

Wendy punched Bill's arm. "Sorry to steal them. We'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "Or you could come help—?"

"No!" Dipper and Mabel both shoved Bill back into the house before he could accept. Dipper said, "You've gotta—guard the house." Mabel added, "And hand out candy!"

"Right," Bill said flatly. "Yes. That. Ha."

"See you later!" Mabel said, and then shut the door in his face.

The last thing he heard was Wendy explaining to her friends, "He's on house arrest for, like, academic plagiarism and war crimes or something..." and then they were gone.

Bill's shoulders slumped. Well, now what? He couldn't celebrate a holiday by himself. What was the point of wearing a costume if no one sees you in it. He picked up a piece of candy, discovered it was one of his decoys, and picked up another. 

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. He picked up the candy bowl, turned toward the door, and paused. Ah. Right. What was he supposed to do with this impenetrable portal-blocking slab of wood.

Who was left in the house? Stan on the roof, Ford in the basement, Abuelita probably already in bed... were any of them worth harassing to help him answer the door? Maybe Stan, he'd gotten all dressed up, he liked the holiday even if he didn't like Bill—

The trick-or-treater knocked more insistently.

Or. Or.

He could pick up the bowl, peer out the small window in the door, and make direct eye contact with the children outside while he ate candy.

As a piece of mid-tier chocolate melted on his tongue, he saw three trick-or-treaters' faces fall as their faith in a kind, caring universe died. He grinned at them and ate another chocolate.

Oh yeah. He grabbed the rest of his cider from the living room and set up post next to the door. This would keep him entertained the rest of the night.

####

He made seven small children cry.

####

Stan watched from his post on the roof as yet another sobbing kid ran away from the shack. "HA! Gottem! Sucker!" He affectionately patted his boombox. "Creepy ghoulish laughter, you never disappoint! Terrifying moochers since 1989!" He paused the cassette and rewound it a few seconds to replay the best part.

He heard a scraping sound above him, and looked up just in time to see Ford sliding down the roof to join him. "Oh, hey! I didn't think we'd see you again tonight."

"Mabel made me promise to celebrate Summerween a little."

"Good for her!"

Stan had already claimed the sun lounger, so Ford brushed some dust and leaves off the roof's cooler and sat. "So, what are we doing? Scaring trick-or-treaters?"

"Yep. This year I'm taking a more atmospheric approach." He gestured at his boombox, which by now was playing haunting organ music. "Nothing like screaming zombies and rattling chains from nowhere to freak out the kids."

Ford nodded. "Psychological torment. I approve."

"Not quite as good as getting to see the terror in their eyes, but." Stan shrugged. "Bill was hanging out with the kids. I didn't want to put up with him."

"Mm. There's a reason I was spending the holiday in the basement."

"Heh. Well, there's always Halloween."

They were silent for a moment, listening as the cassette moved on from organ music to werewolf howls. Stan asked, "Think we'll be rid of him by then? I know we were hoping to be done with him before the Fourth of July—but since I haven't heard anything lately, I figure you hit a roadblock."

Ford winced. "Guilty as charged." He was still relearning how to keep other people in the loop. Even Stan. "You're right. I have a weapon that can destroy him, but I can't find a fuel source without restarting the portal. I'm hoping Fiddleford will come up with a solution I haven't."

Stan nodded. Ford had told him he was getting Fiddleford involved; even as reluctant as Ford was to admit how little progress he'd made, he wasn't going to tell someone outside the family about Bill without letting Stan know. "Any breakthroughs on his end?"

####

During the credits between episodes of the retired samurai period drama (most recently, the samurai had been asked to use his sword to help cut flowers for a bouquet), Fiddleford leaned over and whispered to Ford, "So I've been a-lookin' at those blueprints you left me."

"And...?"

"And I've constructicated a power adaptor. Just jimmy out the fuel tank, swap it for the adaptor's cord, and you can power that weapon by pluggin' it into the wall! It'll just drain all the power from the town for a few seconds, that's all."

"Fiddleford, that's amazing—"

"Now, hold on. There's bad news," Fiddleford said. "Try as I might, I can't quite get it to draw enough power to activate those energy-destroying features what you'd need to disintegrate Bill. It'll work like a powerful laser, but nothin' else."

Ford sighed. "It's a starting point, I suppose."

"I'll send you home with the adaptor anyway. Never know when you'll need a big laser."

"Very true. Do you have any promising leads on other alternative fuels?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "It's the NowUSeeitNowUDontium or nothing. But I've got a hunch we could synthesize it under lab conditions. I'll letcha know in a few days."

And then the next episode started, and they dropped the conversation.

####

Ford let out a heavy sigh. "He's only had a partial success so far. But I'm hopeful he's on the right track."

"So, if he's working on this weapon, what are you doing?"

"Waiting, mostly. I don't know what else I can do."

Stan frowned. "What—that's it? You've been downstairs all day every day—if you're not figuring out how to destroy him, what are you doing?"

"Passing time somewhere I can be on call if he gets up to something—but I don't have to look at him," Ford said wryly. "And—as long as I'm waiting to hear back from Fiddleford, I've been... picking apart that list of spells Bill gave me. To see if any of them are tricks or traps."

Stan couldn't say he was surprised. That was his workaholic brother. A pamphlet of demon magic was like catnip to him. If anything, Stan was almost glad Ford had that letter to distract him. Over the past year...

Well, Ford was fine on land—when he temporarily had a mystery to solve, an adventure to pursue, an anomaly to study, a distraction to fill his time—but at sea, when his mind was unoccupied, he was listless. He had books he didn't read, field notes he didn't enter into his journal, games he didn't play. He fed himself and exercised and did chores around the ship like a robot programmed to take care of itself, and he stared out at the sea.

Last summer, Ford hadn't seemed happy but he'd seemed alive. Tired and angry, but alive. But after Weirdmageddon, a light in his eyes went out. Stan didn't know if it was the end of summer, or guilt over the memory gun, or the gap between finishing a thirty-year-long quest and discovering the next one. All Stan knew was the light hadn't come back on until the moment Bill Cipher, clad in a new body and a purple cartoon bedsheet, tried to cave Ford's skull in.

Ever since they were children, Ford had had a tendency to develop obsessions. It was somehow simultaneously both what made him most interesting and what made him boring. Depended on the obsession. But these all-consuming interests had always tended to last a few months, at most a year; and he'd never seemed to be without one, much less for nine months. Stan had no idea what carrying a single obsession for three decades might have done to Ford's mind.

Stan was glad something had woken Ford back up, and he worried that losing that focal point again might leave Ford permanently adrift. But another part of him worried that, this time, Ford wouldn't let the object of his obsession go. He tended to collect things related to his obsessions.

But then, he usually tended to like his obsessions. He hadn't seemed bothered to burn the contents of his creepy Bill shrine last summer. Ford wouldn't do anything stupid, Stan told himself. Ford hated Bill. "So? Were any of the spells traps?"

"Not... so far, no." Ford sounded irritated by this.

Stan shrugged. "Makes sense. He's trying to butter us up. If that idiot thinks being nice to us for a week or two is gonna make up for the years of grief he's given us—"

A loud rattle-clattering below made them both start. Stan sat bolt upright. "What the—?"

Ford inched to the edge of the dormer roof, knelt down, and leaned over the edge just far enough to see the window.

Bill's face was pressed to the glass, eye rolled up toward the roofline. He grinned in surprised delight and shouted through the glass, "HEY, STANFORD! What are you doing up here?! I thought you were downstairs!"

"Ugh." Ford turned to grimace at Stan. "Speak of the devil."

Bill pounded on the glass again. "Hey, Sixer! SIXER! Open the window!"

"Why?"

"I wanna talk!"

"No."

"Come ooon, the kids ditched me and I'm bored! There's no one in the house to talk to! The old lady's asleep and Stanley's on the roof, so—" He abruptly fell silent, squinting with deep suspicion at Ford-who-should-be-in-the-basement kneeling on the-roof-where-Stan-should-be, and said, "Wait. Are you Stanley right now? Show me your hand."

Ford did not. "Go away, Bill." He left the edge of the roof for his cooler seat.

"Get back here!" The pounding redoubled. "I don't care which Stan you are! If you don't wanna talk, I can always go wake up Dolores!"

Ford looked at Stan. "Mrs. Ramirez's name is Dolores?" He had gotten used to everyone calling her Abuelita.

Stan stomped on the roof, "Shaddup!"

Bill did not shaddup. "Come ooon!"

Stan sighed in defeat and heaved himself to his feet. "If he keeps that racket up he's gonna break that window, never mind that hex you put on him." When they'd taken out the original Bill-shaped window, Stan had replaced it with the cheapest window he could find. He didn't think it was very durable. "How much trouble can he get in with one open window twenty feet above the ground and both of us watching him?"

Ford Frowned.

"Don't gimme that look. Do you want to pay for a broken window?" Stan flipped through his keys for his key-shaped emergency lock pick, leaned over the edge of the roof, and wedged the pick into the window frame. The latch popped open. Lucky this window was so cheap, that wouldn't have worked on one with deluxe features like "airtight weatherstripping" or "a properly-fitting frame." Stan swung open the window. "Okay, you have our attention. Now what's the fastest way we can get rid of you?"

Bill clumsily climbed out to sit on the windowsill with his legs in the shack, and leaned back so he could see up onto the roof. "Hiya Fo—" He lost his balance, flailed, and yelped as he toppled backwards.

Stan and Ford lunged forward to seize an arm each. Stan snapped, "What are you doing, you maniac?!"

Bill stared up at them both in wide-eyed amazement. "You do like me."

Stan made a noise of disgust, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants like Bill had cooties.

Ford said, "We like you trapped in that body and not free to cause the apocalypse."

"I heard 'we like you'!"

"Shut up." Ford managed to haul Bill back upright. (Touching Bill felt wrong—all soft flesh and skin and the suggestion of bones underneath. Even when looking right at Bill's human body, Ford still expected him to feel like heavy shadows and heatless flames.) From this close, Bill reeked of cider. "Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Not so much I won't remember whatever you say in the morning, so be nice to me!" Bill laughed. He leaned back, this time hanging by one hand off the window frame to precariously maintain his balance, and grinned up at Ford. "So! The least fun person in the house has finally emerged from his lair? And you didn't even come into the house to join in the Summerween festivities! 'All work and no play'..."

Ford had to crouch at the edge of the roof, hovering nearby in case Bill lost his balance again. "I wanted to participate in Summerween, actually. It just so happens that the last person I'd ever spend a holiday with is in the house."

"Listen, Stanford. I know you're holing up in your study for days on end just to hurt me. But let's be honest, you're hurting yourself more! When's the last time you saw the sunlight! Look at how pale you're getting, you look like a vampire."

Stiffly, Ford said, "It's costume makeup. That's my vampire costume." Stan laughed.

"It what." Bill flipped up his eyepatch and squinted blearily at Ford's face.

Wordlessly, Ford bared his teeth to show off his plastic vampire teeth.

"Oh." Somewhat deflated, Bill said, "Nice work, it's convincing."

"Thanks," Ford said grudgingly. Giving in to his curiosity, he gestured toward Bill's (somewhat disheveled) reddish-yellow wig. "What are you."

"Oh!" Bill perked back up. "You've got to see the whole thing. Hold on—" He turned around in the window, ignoring how Ford half reached for him in case he needed steadying, until he got his legs outside to dangle on the roof. "What do you think!"

Ford looked over the brown toga flared out like a cone, the eruption of red hair, the small paper city below, and said, "Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii? Very clever."

Bill's face lit up. "Finally! You're the first person all day to get it!" He smoothed out the skirt proudly, his jerky gestures just a bit more exaggerated than usual. "Do you know how long I've wanted to go to a costume party as Vesuvius? But nobody off Earth would get it! And now that I'm finally here, I can't go to parties and I'm shaped more like a mandrake than a volcano." He flung up his hands, wobbled, and caught himself before Ford had to intervene. "But at least you got it. I knew I could count on you, IQ."

He sounded so sincerely grateful. Ford regretted calling the costume clever. It was, but Bill didn't need the ego boost.

"Oh! By the by—I didn't think you'd emerge before the day was over, so I saved this." Bill fished around in his toga until he retrieved a mini pack of jelly beans. "Here!"

Ford eyed the pack. "Why is it open?"

"Because you only like the weird-shaped jelly beans, so I ate all the normal beans and saved the weird ones in one bag."

"I don't want this. You touched every one of the beans, that would be disgusting even if they weren't coming from you," Ford said. "Anyway, this is a patently transparent attempt to buy your way into my good favor—"

"It sure is, Ford, and if you don't accept it I'll get to be annoying about your ingratitude for weeks! Is that what you want? You know I'll do it. Everyone will be on my side—"

Ford sighed, but snatched the bag from Bill's hand. "Fine. Now drop it."

"That's more like it!" Bill favored Ford with an approving smile. "Anyway, it's just about the only candy left in the house, I ate everything else—hey, have you ever been cross faded on cider and a sugar rush?"

Ford was still trying to decide whether he wanted to engage in this one-sided conversation enough to ask Bill what "cross faded" meant when Bill moved on without him: "It's—not that interesting, actually. 6 out of 10. Anyway, all that's left in the bowl is mints and wrappers. And Mabel even managed to give most of the mints away—hey, she's so nice, did you know she's helping to resurrect the Summerween Trickster?"

She was doing what? "No. Why?"

"She's so nice."

"You just said that."

"What is she so nice for. What's she getting out of it," Bill asked, more to the universe at large than to Ford. "If more humans were half as nice to freaks as she is, your rotten planet wouldn't need people like you and me to save it."

Ford didn't even know where to begin with that. He looked to Stan for help.

Stan was sitting straddling his lounger, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand, watching this exchange like he was watching a weird bug on the wall try to navigate around a picture frame. At Ford's glance, he rolled his eyes and pantomimed sipping from a drink.

He could say that again. Ford cleared his throat. "Bill, maybe you should..."

"Hey," Bill said. "Great talk, we really should catch up more sometime. And pull your weight next time, I always have to do all the talking. But right now, I'm..." He gestured vaguely off to the side. "I'm gonna lie down and try not to throw up. Ciao!" He swayed as he tried to get back in the window, tumbled backward into the shack, and thudded heavily on the floor. "Ow."

Ford gingerly shut the window.

Stan turned up the boombox. "Chatty drunk, isn't he."

"He's chatty sober, too." But in front of the kids? Neither of them saw Bill as a role model, but they still didn't need to be exposed to that kind of behavior. Especially when the responsible adults were outside or asleep... "Did we really leave Bill alone in the house with the kids?"

"W—I—" Stan shrugged defensively. "They were all right! They can take him! They're doing karate or whatever! You didn't see how Mabel flipped him at the mall! It was like David wrestling Goliath."

"David and Goliath didn't wrestle."

"You know what I mean."

Ford supposed he didn't think Bill was any threat to the children. At least, not right now, and not physically. He felt like he'd know if Bill was about to try anything.

He looked at his open bag of gross felt-up jelly beans. Speaking of trying to butter them up... Ford wound up and chucked the bag as hard as he could.

He stared into the dark after it.

A small part of him was beginning to wonder whether this wasn't all just an attempt to get Ford's guard down. The gifts, sure, that was as clear-cut a case of bribery as you could get. Nothing ambiguous there.

But the endless chatter... Back when Ford had called Bill his Muse, this was exactly how he'd wanted Bill to talk to him. Not in the flighty half-distracted way of a friendly businessman catching up on a work project's progress before hurrying on to the next meeting; but just talking for talking's sake, talking for the company.

Getting what he once had longed for made his skin crawl. And he couldn't even tell if Bill was acting.

The boombox let out a ghastly banshee shriek. Ford and Stan both jumped, then laughed awkwardly.

Ford sat on the cooler again. "Is it just me, or... did Bill completely ignore you as soon as he realized I was up here."

"Well. I wasn't gonna mention it. I didn't wanna sound jealous of the attention. But yeah—he's been doing that since he got here. If you're in the room, he tunes everyone else out."

"I thought it was in my head." And he hadn't wanted to sound like he wanted to imagine Bill was favoring him.

"And you do the same thing around him," Stan said, and laughed at Ford's flinch of alarm. "It's—it's fine, I get it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You've got some kind of superhero-supervillain nemesis thing."

Ford got the distinct impression that Stan was offering him a convenient excuse for the tunnel vision. He took it. "I suppose that's true." The way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed around Bill certainly felt like a "nemesis" reaction.

But if Stan thought Ford was a bit too preoccupied by Bill... well, maybe he was right. Once Ford had gotten over his initial wave of fear, of despair, of outrage at the injustice, at finding Bill was still alive—there was a part of him that was almost relieved. A part of him that had been on guard against nothing for the past year, twisting around looking for an absent threat. Now that it knew where the threat was, that part of him could finally settle down and watch Bill with steady, certain eyes. Having nothing to worry about made him more anxious than having one thing to always worry about.

(Maybe Shermie's kid had been on to something when he suggested Ford might benefit from therapy.)

Knowing Bill was back didn't put the old starlight and awe back in that hole Bill had left in Ford's chest. But dread could fill a hole all the same.

Ford tried to push Bill out of his mind and the conversation. "You think I'm like a superhero?"

"You run around fighting monsters with a space laser. What else would you be?"

"Huh." Well. That made his night.

"Just as long as you don't pull that 'hero spares the villain to show how good he is' shtick."

"Never." Ford laughed ruefully. "I think I left 'good' behind a few felonies back." He'd probably left "good" behind the night he accepted the portal blueprints.

"Couple stragglers," Stan said, nodding out into the dark. It took Ford a moment to spot the costumed kids and remember it was Summerween. "I recognize those costumes, I scared them off an hour ago. What are they doing back?"

Ford squinted at them. "Are those toilet paper rolls?"

"Wh—Hey! What are you little runts— Hey!" Stan leaped to his feet, shaking his fist at the kids below. "Get away from my car! Stop that! I'll have you know that's a classic— No, not the eggs!"

Ford slid out his freeze ray, turned down the power, and offered it to Stan. "Here. At this power and distance, it'll feel like getting pelted with invisible snowballs."

Stan snatched up the weapon. "Eat this, twerps!"

The Summerween night air was filled with the screams of terrified children and the evil laughter of an old man.

####

Wow. It sure sounded like everybody was having fun. Outside. Without him.

Bill was nauseous.

He stared at the spinning ceiling, flat on his back, one leg on a cushion and the rest of him on the floor. 

Bill was nauseous and alone. The loneliness tore at his throat. Even Mabel had ditched him. Of course she did—he'd tried to kill her. He'd barely even remembered he'd tried to kill her until she brought it up. Had he tried to kill her? No, surely not—he liked the kid, he'd always liked her—he'd been faking to force Ford's hand, he never would have gone through with it. He would've teleported her into another room and pretended he'd disintegrated her. She didn't know he hadn't meant it. She was just mad he'd scared her. She couldn't take a joke.

But, Ford talked to him. Ford even liked his costume. It wasn't much, but it would get Bill through the night.

When he saw Kryptos again—when, not if—he was slicing him into a jigsaw puzzle for not taking Bill's call. The nerve of that guy, hanging up on a human without even waiting a few words to see if they had anything interesting to say. 

(What if it hadn't been an accident, he wondered? What if Kryptos had realized it was Bill and still hung up?)

(No. Of course it was an accident.)

He shut his eyes. He was probably too drunk to dream tonight. Well, he could try again tomorrow. His little lucid dreaming guide was currently teaching him to influence the next night's dream by focusing on a topic before sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could dream about the Nightmare Realm.

He missed home.

####

(Congratulations to the approximately 50% of respondents who correctly figured out Bill's costume when I posted the art on Halloween, you're officially smarter than everybody in Gravity Falls except Ford. This is one of those chapters with a whole lot going on so if you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your comments!!)

[zz0nie]

Genshin Hcs

Neuvillette & Wriothesley

note; this is my first time writing (after like 2 years, so much improvement I'd like to hope :0) just thought I would start it easy with Neuvi and Wrio, much loved Fontaine boys &lt;3 (Suggestions are always welcome!!)

Neuvillette

Neuvillette would never EVER bring it up to you; however, he is a man who loves his hair being played with or brushed to pass time. If you bring it up he will give you a surprised look, maybe bringing out a response from you, "Don't give me that face, Neuvi." As you're holding a hairbrush in one hand. He will silently work his way to you, in fact he is extremely attentive to how you are carefully brushing around his horns to make sure you don't hurt him. So soft in general, he loves you.

Neuvillette's favourite drink is water - as we know with his idle lines, suggesting each water from each nation is different - if you suggest to him to try some tea, he would say he does not enjoy it. However, give it a large ratio between more water less tea? You may catch him having the occasional "tea" (An extremely diluted tea, keep in mind. Maybe enough to consider it flavoured water.)

Figuring he has helped the Melusines find a safe second home inside Fontaine, he has become a parental figure to them, and as he has given them jobs often if you walk into his office while it is a relatively calm time you may happen to see a small melusine tucked up on his sofa with a large blanket suited for a human wrapping their body up. He will take it with care and duty to take care of that melusine. If he is busy he will have them escorted to their home safely though. He is a worried father, leave him be.

He is extremely quick to pick up on items or things you like or dislike. Very minimal change in your body language can tell him everything, as he does in fact notice the way you stare longingly at an accessory of clothing that would go perfectly with your outfit. If you enjoyed flowers he will go out of his way to pick you or buy you your favourite flower(s) and make sure you receive them. (Most of the time he's extremely busy and gets a melusine to go to your door, he's trying his best. :(

Neuvillette has little time to enjoy things, however, while figuring court cases inside his office, you may walk past slowly and hear the hum of his record player playing some classical music. Maybe one day you'll walk in and ask him to take your hand, you'll sway together in his office, just the two of you as you sweep him away from work and to you.

At the start of your journey together, sitting in silence was not something that was sought out from either of you as it felt awkward between you. Neuvillette isn't the best at small talk, so if you aren't either it may take a while to get this going. However, when you grow closer there will be a time where he will come to seek you out, just to sit and do his own thing while you do yours, simply enjoying your presence.

He loves like old people do, the small things mean a lot to this man. Remembering small things and going out on a walk somewhere - heck, when you help him with washing his hair when he has had a long, tiring day - between you in that moment, there is no lust or hatred, just pure love for each other. Neuvillette bathes in your sweet affection during these moments, he loves you so much, even if he cannot find the words to say it.

Wriothesley

Like Neuvillette, loves a specific brand and way of tea being made, if he teaches you how and you pick up and make it for him like that u are probably one of his most favourite people. Definitely prefers his tea on the stronger side, this man needs his energy somehow.

Children love him, even if he is this big scary dude that controls the prisons in Fontaine they see him as an extra father - especially orphaned kids - and he treats all children with such respect, he's so sweet to them. You look at him when a young girl comes up to him, holding something behind her back: Some handpicked flowers. She holds them out to him, all shy around such a pretty older boy. Of course, he accepts them and thanks the young girl as she giggles and runs off, he watches her with a small smile - if you point it out the man will throw you a frown. "Can't a guy enjoy the little things in life now? Why don't you get me flowers?" Uh oh, he's got you there.

I believe when this man decides he is done being the ward of the prison in Fontaine, he finally relaxes in a home with you - and a potential child - he cares less and less on physical appearance, obviously tries to keep up but as age comes so does laziness. So beware he may begin to grow a dadbod, he would rock it though.

Ticklish on his stomach, don't know where it came from or how you found out, maybe it was your hand brushing against it while he was stretching and his shirt came untucked. Don't play with the fire though, this man does not like being tickled. Though, he has the most gorgeous laugh, maybe it would be worth it.

Wriothesley takes his sweet time petting animals on the street and taking care of any he may come across - I mean, when does he EVER get to see a pet while stuck at work? It's always something that makes a mans heart swell with joy. However if you were to ask if he is a cat or a dog guy will be admitting he is much of a dog guy. Though, dogs aren't at all interested in him which makes him sigh in defeat, yet cats just seem so in love with him (me too) when they come running up to him. He doesn't mind it though, in all honesty he would prefer having you holding onto his arm as you both walk.

HE WILL PICK YOU UP FROM BEHIND THIS MAN DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE ON WEIGHT EITHER. HE DOES RESPECT BOUNDAIRES THOUGH! IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT HE WONT DO IT!

He absolutely loves it if you show off any clothes, or general items you have recently brought to him. Especially the clothes, he would REALLY love it if you treated his office like a mini walkway, strutting and turning with however much confidence you have. He loves it. The way you talk, walk, smile, everything. He loves whatever you do, he just loves you.

[broz0neglitters]

Sorry 'bout Grammy night

John Dory X Ex GF

John Dory gave you everything that you could have wished for. He was so lucky to have met a girl like you. He never wanted to lose you; he would do everything to protect you. But over time, things changed between you both. You noticed how he would overwork his little brothers, boss them around, and spend less time with you. He also would ignore you, but things got bad, leading to your break up at Grammy night, which was hosted by the Classical Trolls.

-This was before Brozone broke up, and you guys soon saw each other again 20+ years later...-

-Grammy's Night-

You wear a lovely dress and even get your hair done when you arrive on the red carpet. You grab John's hands, but he looks back at you. "Be professional, babe," he says, walking away. It really hurt you, but you brush it off. "I'll hold your hands." Bitty B said cutely as you looked down at him. "Aww, thank you, you're so sweet." You said, holding his little hands

As John looks back, seeing you hold baby Branch's hands, he snaps at you, "Y/N, What are you doing holding Bitty B's hands? You should be holding mine." he snaps at you, "But John, he's just a baby anyone could grab him and plus he was kind enough to hold my hands unlike you." You said to him, "Whatever, hold my hand and act like we're in love." he said, smiling at the camera

As you held his hands, you wanted to cry as the camera flashed, and you put on a fake smile. As you two post for the camera, you both try your best to smile. "Can we get some with just the Brozone brothers?" the photographer said as John pushed you aside and grabbed all his brothers closer to him.

"You did not need to push your girlfriend like that. You could have told her to move aside nicely." spruce said, giving John the death stare. "Pfft, whatever she was getting in the way anyways, now smile, bros," he said

As you saw the brothers taking pictures, you cried at the Grammy. As the brothers were done, you quickly wiped your tears. "were you crying?" floyd asked. "What- No, it was just my lashes itching," you lied to him. "oh okay, I can never get with lashes," he said to himself

"Come on, bros, let's talk to the press." John said as you kept walking behind them, "Y/n, you don't have to keep letting John treat you this way. I know how you feel; I want to be taken seriously, too." Clay said, "I appreciate your help, but I should keep my mouth shut." You said you were afraid of speaking up against John because you know what he could do to you and you didn't want to ruin his Grammy night with his bro

As you pick Bitty B up so he doesn't get lost, you overhear John talking to the female troll interviewer, so you eavesdrop. "So, John Dory, how does it feel to date a normal troll?" "Ah, you know she's not that important right now. All that matters is that Brozone finally won a Grammy and made our grandma proud." John dory said

You wanted to cry again, but you couldn't cry in front of everyone, especially bitty B...

You all took your seats, still upset at what John Dory said about you, but you didn't let it get to you because you're stronger than this. You would not let some dude, not even your boyfriend, bring you down, especially not at Grammy night.

As they announced the best boy band of the year, John Dory crossed his fingers, hoping they would win. "And the best boy band music goes to..." as there were drum rolls and moments of silence, everyone's heart was racing. You could hear John Dory's heart beating.

"BROZONE WITH THEIR HIT SINGLE PERFECT!" The announcer said as the Brozone brothers cheered and hugged each other while their song Perfect played. You sat there cheering for them despite all the negative energy you received from John Dory the whole time, but again, you didn't care about your boyfriend's poor behavior. You were happy that they won...

As Brozone got on stage to accept their Grammy, John took the mind stand, "This is such an honor to be here making music with my brothers, and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for my amazing leadership skills and my brothers' hard work we put our hearts into this new late single, and we're so glad that the fans love it." John said As the brothers took a picture with their grammies and got off the stage

After the Grammys, you wanted to congratulate them. You walk up to your boyfriend and try to give him a kiss, but John Dory pushes you out of the way to take more photos when you have enough of his BS. "JOHN DORY, I'VE HAD IT WITH YOUR BEHAVIOR TONIGHT!" You shouted at him as he looked at you. "Baby, what are you talking about are you on your day?" he asked, brushing the situation off

"STOP ACTING LIKE YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG CUZ YOU CLEARLY DID; NOT ONLY YOU TREATED ME BAD THIS TIME I OVERHEARD YOU TELLING SOME TROLL THAT YOU USED ME AND THAT I WAS NOT IMPORTANT, AND NOW YOU PUSH ME AWAY. AM I WORTH NOTHING TO YOU?" You asked, tearing up

Before John could speak, "Just forget, John Dory, we're over. Just so you know, I brought us a promise bracelet, which I will never get a chance to give you. I'm getting my money back." You said, running off crying

You ran off crying with the paparazzi chasing after you while your eyeliner was dripping, and you were a hot mess so, which ended your and John Dory's relationship...

-20 years later-

You haven't heard about Brozone besides their band break up, but you couldn't get a refund on your promise bracelets that you had made for you and John Dory despite you hating for how he had treated you that night, you miss him profoundly, but you can't seem to forgive him at all

You keep saying that you're alright, but every single night, you feel like crying cause every single night, you lock yourself in your room and cry for days. It has been 20 years since the breakup, and you're still crying over it

The breakup messed you up really bad to the point where you refused to date other trolls and trust other males, and you would lock yourself in your rooms for days. You wouldn't eat or drink but just sat there in darkness crying to yourself

As you saw the picture of you and John during the Grammy nights, the picture of you both was revolving in your mind. But then it turns to white. "Guess I'm going Blind," you said to yourself. You felt like crying all over again. You threw the picture across the room, and it cracked and broke as you walked over to see the picture glass shatter.

As you get a red marker and angrily cross out john dory picture and cry to yourself, "FUCK YOU, JOHN DORY, AND WHAT YOU DID TO ME!" You said, crying out of anger.....

-After Band Together-

You were chilling and doing much better when you saw Poppy and a few other friends. "Hey guys, we just returned from saving floyd from the twins!" Poppy said As you saw someone looking very familiar, but you couldn't get your eyes straight as you took a 2nd look "shit, is my ex." you said to yourself. "Wait- you're that girl who dated a biozone; remember John Dory? Why didn't you tell us, girl?" Val said, "I'd rather not talk about the past." You said

As Poppy came over to you, "Hey Y/N, This is bro zone." she said, "Yeah, I know. I happen to date one of them." you said, crossing your arms. "Wait- are you?" Branch said, "Yep, I'm that Bitch that john dory dumped over a Grammy." you growled, glaring at john dory

"Hey, how have you been? It has been 20 years. You still look nice." he said, cutting the subject. "Don't change the subject, asshole. You know what you did on Grammy night." You said

"Oh, so that was the girl you were talking about. How she took care of you when you were little." Poppy said, "Wait- branch, you're bitty B. How can I not remember you?" You said, "Uhh yeah, very long story, maybe some other time." the branch said

"Back to the subject, John, how could you treat me like that? You know what your actions did to me. It made me super depressed and heartbroken." you said

"I tried to text you hoping you could forgive me and all my crimes, but you left me on read but no reply." John said, "It was during the troll escape from Bgergans town. What did you expect John to give you a sigh." You said, "I thought you had got eaten by the bergan when I came back to look for you and my brothers, but no one was there." he said

As you turned your back to him, "Sorry I broke you down, Sorry I tore you down, and I'm also sorry about Grammy night." He said "I was totally in a a different place and Tortured and drifting by I didn't know that I hurted some one that I care about." He added as he put his hand on your shoulder, but you slapped it super hard, which stung his hands

your eyes were rolling back because you refused to listen to John Dory trying to apologize to you because you stopped trusting a single word he said ever since Grammy night and the break up. "Please, Hope I get one more chance, and I desperately Hope you can forgive me for the things I've done." John Dory said on his knees crying and begging for your forgiveness

His brother saw how super pathetic John Dory was to be on his knees 20 years later begging for your forgiveness when he should have been doing it in the first place instead of 20 years later, which was too late...

------------------ I won't be opening requests due to time conflicts with my real life. I also have to tackle two jobs, and they do take time to write, but if you want to ask me any questions, feel free to private message me. I will respond to them :). Hope you all have a great day/night wherever you are <3 Also, Happy Pride Month <3 --------------------- Like + Follow are very much appreciated!

[laugtherhyena]

Now that I'm free from college for the next few weeks i can finally talk about these two, the headcanon/take on Ayame's parents i made a little while back with help from my friend Poi, Bashira and Ippei Hatano.

-Ayame is their only child, she takes after her father both appearance and personality wise as both of them are pretty quiet and timid people who tend to not speak a lot. In Ippei's case, his often very subtle emotions don't help at all on the matter as it tends to give people the wrong impression that he’s serious and intimidating, but he really just doesn’t know how to express himself and is a pretty awkward dude in social scenarios just like his kid. He is a tad more talkative when around his family and close friends, but even then he doesn’t talk THAT much more but his family knows he cares for them more than anything.

-Bashira on the other hand is the complete opposite of her husband and daughter, very extrovert and talkative, it's from her that Ayame takes her habit of rambling about her interests tho unlike her Bashira will continue talking for hours and hours without getting self-conscious about it. She has a keen eye and can read through her family's seriousness like an open book if she senses there's something bothering or off about them, whenever that happens she will make them open up and try to help them with the problem.

-She wears her heart on her sleeve and is a very caring and emotional person, thought she's as curious as she is nosy and tends to ask a lot of questions to Ayame's friends as she wants to know the kind of person her daughter’s hanging out with, this borderline interrogation is made worse by the fact that she's the kind of parent that will embarrass her kid with childhood stories but Ippei is usually there to pull her aside and tell her she's embarrassing Ayame in front of her friends.

-Bashira owns a flower shop as she's been fascinated by plants and nature ever since she was little, she used to tend to her parent's garden since both had very demanding jobs and were busy most of the time which led to her wanting to know more about plants and study botanics. This passion of hers is so strong that she named her daughter after a flower (japanese iris).

-She’s known for having a “magic touch” of sorts where everything she plants grows beautiful and strong, when tending to plants she never wears gloves of any kind as she feels like touching the dirt and plants with her bare heads makes all the difference.

-These two met at a restaurant Ippei used to work in as a waiter in his late teens because Bashira used to go there often with her friends. The whole reason he was working there to begin with was because this place had a piano in the stage where artists would perform sometimes and he’s always had a love for classic music, so whenever he had closing shifts he would stay there overtime after the restaurant closed to play the piano. There were a handful of times he let Bashira get in after closing to listen to him perform.

-His dream was to pursue that kind of career and become a musician but with the bubble burst and economic recession he decided to take a more stable office job than try his luck in the industry. He does still play as a hobby though! The Hatanos have a piano in their house and he plays it for fun and when he needs to de-stress from work. When Ayame was a child he would often play for her and talk about his passion even if she didn't have much interest in music.

-They're not as close as they were when she was a kid by current time since both of them aren't great at communicating but both know the other does care for them quite a bit even if the lack of words and some not-so-well solved issues are a bit of a barrier between them.

-While Ippei isn't outright not supportive of Ayame’s athletic career, he worries more than he cheers for her after the injury she had in one of her legs because it was a very serious one that could lead to her losing movement/feeling in her leg if she goes too far in training and doesn’t take good care of herself. On the other hand Bashira is still as supportive as ever about Ayame's sprinting, she worries too but much like Ayame herself she is pretty stubborn and being a huge optimist she is certain nothing worse will happen.

-When she was still in the hospital recovering from the surgery he went to talk to her about how it was ok to slow down and that she could still enjoy running and training as a hobby, just like he did with playing the piano. He obviously said that with the best intentions in mind but Ayame was in a very stressful and awful mindset because of everything and ended up not taking it very well, as if her dad was telling her to give up on her dreams, so she ended up yelling at him in the hospital about how she won’t give up like he did and Ippei just goes silent out of not wanting to argue with his kid.

-She apologized shortly after but they haven’t had a proper talk about all this stuff? If that makes sense? It was just a quick apology since neither of them are very good at talking + Bashira doesn’t want to intervene heavily on the situation since she feels like it’s something they need to resolve on their own, just father and daughter. (Though it’s not like their relationship crumbled after this mess or anything, it’s just something that was never properly resolved)

-Both of them died in the tragedy but if they had lived long enough to be rescued by the Kisaragi foundation alongside the 6.5 cast Ippei would have joined the foundation in Rei’s division while Bashira could have become a secretary or assistant of some kind if she didn't dislike Minako to the point of being unable to stand being around her.

-In a non-tragedy setting she would already dislike her quite a bit due to the way she treated her child, but because Bashira developed a strong disdain towards Kizuna because of what happened in the killing game she directs that hatred towards her mother since Kizuna herself is not around. The gist of it is that Bashira refuses to believe Ayame could have been so cruel out of her own volition, “I know my daughter more than anyone else, she would never do such a thing!”, and so blames Kizuna for her death since she was the one who instigated the event. (She despises Akane too, but she's the mastermind so who doesn't)

-Ippei is not the kind of person to hold these kids of grudges + he mostly blames himself for what happened to Ayame because he feels that if he had prohibited her from continuing her training as a sprinter after the injury she wouldn't have been called to hope's peak and subsequently died in the proto-killing game, he would much rather have Ayame hate him for putting a stop to her dreams than her being dead.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 7/16/2024

how your backyard hurricane go, the houston area? pretty good it doesn't seem

to be clear other than losing everything in my fridge and developing some mold around the windowframes IM personally fine and so are the girls and so is the lair. we lost power sunday afternoon and got it back friday morning (upside down smiley emoji x16)

listening

THREE CANONICALLY BISEXUAL CLUB BANGERS!!! also, trying out a new thing with spotify and youtube videos for songs bc my readership is about 70/30 and i want to streamline the process of actually listening to new music for ppl. it must be really annoying this week but that's bc there's three songs. sorry. it will rarely be this long

anyway.

ANXIETY by Lilyisthatyou is new to me, off the spotify autogenerated dance playlist. a chiller groove in the spelling-things-out genre of dance music. VERY flashy-lights music vid fyi

Why do I feel so alone? Does it show That I'm dancing to fill the void with pretty girls and pretty boys?

i know about kesha's joyride bc i happen to be an alive queer woman. im SO happy kesha is also alive and making music more regularly. this one is canonically bisexual bc kesha is bisexual. also a really flashy-lights lyric video. the most classically recession-pop/early KESHA sound of all three tuesdaysongs this week. im always fascinated when an accordion shows up.

Rev my engine ’til you make it purr Keep it kinky, but I come first Beep-beep, bitch, I'm outside Get in, loser, for the joyride

thank u new releases spotify playlist. also canonically bisexual bc the singer is, also an early KESHA feel but she is a metal artist first and foremost. very fun to headbang to at a stop light. i don't totally Love how it's an emasculating song but given how dudes in the metal scene generally are? i think she should make it more emasculating actually

Take you down a peg (And peg and peg and peg) If you're a macho man then beg (And beg and beg and beg) Bend you over the bed (The bed the bed the bed) It's time to take you down a peg (And peg and peg and peg)

-

reading

fun fact i still haven't seen this movie. i got this from the library the day before the hurricane proper and it gave me a really lovely two hours of not thinking about the active hurricane the day after. enormous format photographs! full-length shots of every look! ithe little personal notes from each designer were so fun to read, and i think this genuinely healed my heart a little. everyone was so excited to go into detail about what choices they made and what inspired them, and even though i would have loved more specific construction details, specific fiber types, and full-length shots of the Back of every look, i recognize i am a freak.

-

watching

watched a truly bonkers assortment of films at my bestie's house this week. her husband is big into godzilla and i sat down not really paying attention or planning to pay attention to Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire (2024, dir. Wingard) but found myself actually paying attention. i unfortunately was a character i hate, Person Who Stops The Movie Halfway Through To Demand A Recap. loved these guys, whatever the fuck they were

the most fun thing about this movie is that it is not a silent film but it acts like one. there are long, long stretches of movie without dialogue bc all the political action is happening between a bunch of giant monkeys. this is going to sound like im damning it with faint praise but they really thought carefully about directorial and artistic choices here! there was a vision and they executed it! it's fun to look at and not just because there's a big monkey in most of the shots!

-

playing

got a look at characters for the new fire-themed land coming up this fall. ppl are understandably big mad that the land is based on Ring of Fire cultures and everyone is paper-white. i think it is correct to be mad and ask them to do better, and they have tweaked designs before release before, however, i don't think this will bring about a sea change in gacha games.

i am rolling along clearing out map markers and achievement hunting and my GOD are there a lot of time-gated achievements in inazuma (electricity-themed legally-not-japan). so so so many of them i originally got halfway through or did 1/5 and then wandered off bc i didn't realize there was a quest or achievement locked behind doing something for three or five days in a row. i now have a post-it on the corner of my monitor with nine different things i have to keep checking in on this week. please someone give me a REAL JOB!!!!!!

-

making

cross stitch progress. this was the only thing i did last week aside from shake like a chihuahua and sleep. very slow going! may have to ship the package off to my brother with an IOU bc it is already stressfully late.

made the bean influencer soup (creamy miso coconut butter beans). i made a batch before the hurricane last week so most of my notes are from then. the grocery did not have canned butter beans so i made the same thing (big lima beans) from dry. i have not made beans from dry since i was very small. these beans were so large, so pale, so aggressive.

changes: i was able to find a little carton of straight coconut cream at the grocery but they were out of miso paste. i did have miso soup mix and plopped that in. i also used frozen spinch bc it’s cheaper and i felt better about it than the somewhat questionable fresh spinch on offer. also used two onions instead of one and a hearty dollop of minced jarred garlic bc who do u think i even fucking am. i would have loved to use fresh dill, bc i did plant some and it was growing very well, but the caterpillars were very intense and ate almost everything on my balcony.

going in the rotation! im making it AGAIN as im typing up this post! pretty cheap, very tasty, i don't regularly keep butter beans or coconut cream in my pantry but that can change!

[operator-report]

do you have any ideas about the undersiders music tastes. your other posts are so beautiful and true

aaah i'm so glad you liked my silly music posts! after some thought this is what i've landed on for the undersiders: taylor: in my heart taylor's mom did this to her, which is why taylor has a better-than-average teen girl knowledge of blondie, neil young, and the police. i think taylor's taste is a mix of dad rock and alt-pop rock hits. she likes the strokes and arctic monkeys. maybe a little mgmt. after her mom dies she stops listening to music that reminds her of her mom, so much less 70s/80s rock, but i don't think she switches to sadder music or anything like that, i think her taste just skews more contemporary after that. after the bullying started she tried out heavy metal really early on because she figured angry music might help her vent but it wasn't her thing. taylor does not listen to radiohead but she's the undersider who would like it the best i think. karma police is a taylor song send tweet

brian: there's a post out there somewhere that talks about brian listening to imagine dragons and that is SO real to me. he listens to imagine dragons. he listens to "tough" guy music that sounds like it could be in car commercials. he also listens to dudes rock music he hears at the gym. brian and taylor both like to match their music to their workouts and they have an immensely geeky conversation about matching bpm at one point. taylor matches it to her running brian matches it to boxing they are in nerd-jock heaven

lisa: she's a tricky one, because the music industry is one that both values authenticity and yet is extremely manufactured. i think that means that lisa finds music in which rich musicians make music about how hard their life is immensely grating. i think sarah livsey's taste was influenced by her brother, and much like how taylor does not listen to music that reminds her of her mom, lisa does not listen to music that sarah used to like. another smugbug yuri of absence moment if you ask me. anyway all that means that lisa listens to three kinds of music: downtempo instrumental electronic, classical, and We Are Up Partying In The Club Tonight Ooh Girl Oh Yeah. i think she finds, e.g., pitbull and eurotrance endearing. if you ask lisa what her favorite kind of music is she'll say something obnoxious like IDM or some shit just to see what the reaction is

rachel: i looked up "do dogs listen to music" and google says they will listen to classical sometimes, so! there you go. if worm took place a little later i think taylor could have introduced limited doses of lofi hip hop study beats to rachel and she would be ok with that too but also like. why listen to music when she could be outside listening to her dogs

aisha: the undersider with the best taste! we know that early worm aisha is a bona fide scene teen, and i think she consequently likes blink-182, pierce the veil, 3oh!3, cobra starship, and maybe a little bring me the horizon. in later worm aisha's taste gets less pop, like deftones, odd future, etc. she's a supervillain who would actually listen to madvillainy. aisha is also probably the only undersider who actively seeks to cultivate her own music taste! a good chunk of the undersiders have trauma that separate them from their interests and/or feelings, but aisha is an undersider who i think is both self aware and also true to herself, as well as being genuinely interested in art!

alec: speaking of undersiders who have a difficult time developing a defined music taste due to being cut off from a strong sense of self. alec in early worm is too depressed/apathetic to seek out music for himself, he'd rather be playing video games or watching movies. which is a shame because disassociating to music is one of the depressed activities of all time! alas alec's vision of a person with Taste is like. cherie. rip. however, aisha completely turns his life around into a guy who likes...................... soulja boy

there you go! tried to keep this period typical and also didn't include bands we know for sure didn't exist on earth bet (such as mcr). however i am very sad aisha and alec didn't get to listen to 100 gecs together. can you imagine. i can imagine and that's why i have a beautiful aishalec amv set to doritos and fritos in my mind

[winwintea]

WayV as my favorite songs

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ no one asked for this but i can do whatever i want lol. i need to flesh out every single nct member and this is the easiest way for me to write for them: music

PLAYLIST ↬ here just in case you would like to listen to any of them lol

OTHER VERSIONS ↬ dream | 127 | wish (when i post them eventually lol)

LIU YANGYANG ↬ 火 - A-Mei

yangyang is a certified y2k baddie. i'm fully convinced he was born in the wrong era. like he would've rocked the 2000s so much, if only he was born 10 years earlier. 火 is quite literally yangyang, don't tell me other wise, like yangyang is🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥the lyrics are so him coded. HE JUST LOVES MUSIC DON'T TELL HIM TO STOP! in true wayv fashion the song is probably about sex

XIAO DEJUN ↬ 爱 - 小虎队

my god. dejun....... literally such a romantic, but he's like the youthful style romantic?? (does that make sense) 爱 just fits him so well cause it's like young love, peaceful vibes, literally i'm in love with this man. I BET YOU ANYTHING HE KNOWS THE SIGN LANGUAGE TO THIS SONG BY HEART. heartthrob dejun of the 90s. LIKE CAN YOU IMAGINE HIM IN THE 90s???

QIAN KUN ↬ 你是我永远的乡愁 - fei yu-ching

you know the guy that sings the xue hua piao piao song? yeah this is one of his songs. another way for me to call kun a boomer but am i wrong??? is this man not a boomer??? i'm sorry. nah but i got a feeling that kun really likes old old music. i'm talking teressa teng, all those classics. and i can't blame him they're bangers. couldn't go straight with a jay chou song bc that'd be too easy i wanted to challenge myself.

DONG SICHENG ↬ 我愿意 - faye wong/王菲

i love love love faye wong....... all of her songs. she's so talented bruh. and i love winwin! wow those go great together! jkjk, i have reasons for this too. this song is quite literally so special so romantic like damn. i have a feeling that winwin, whoever his partner is, he would literally worship the ground they walk on. HE WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR THE ONE HE LOVES. these are literally all love songs but my wayv boys... i picture them in love all the time okay.

WONG KUNHANG ↬ 失戀 - grasshoper

everytime i hear this fucking song i laugh so hard bc WHO WROTE THIS???? WHY DID YOU MAKE IT HAPPY??? hendery is such a comedian, we all know that. he just has this extremely playful vibe to him. the lyrics of this song... are certainly tragic.... it's about a dude who's chasing after girl who doesn't like him but also talking to another guy who likes the same girl and they both cope with their misery together. LIKE... hendery gives me the vibe that for all his misfortunes and troubles he would just laugh it off. which is not okay, but it's how he is. :((

CHITTAPHON LEECHAIYAPORNKUL ↬ play/我呸 - jolin tsai

literally do not know any thai songs i apologize, but if you got any good recs. really any jolin tsai song could fit ten's vibe tbh, like especially 舞孃 could work too. i chose play bc the gays like it (this is a joke but also kinda true) i could say that she's basically the "lady gaga of cpop" (not my words okay) play is just so sassy, and playful, really fits the vibes that ten has going on there. gay.

perm taglist ↬ @lyvhie

[habaaa]

I don't know if it's a good time, but I wanna share some things I've found about Franklin, they're so interesting and overall chill like him.

Disclaimer: These are official! You can search more at gta.fandom.com, also in little missions, voice clips, and also in hangouts Franklin can have with different characters.

1. He sleeps 8 hours a day:

According to a little observation, when you save the game by putting the characters to sleep it also advances their time, for each character there is a certain sleep cycle. Michael sleeps 6 hours, which is little, Trevor being Trevor puts him to a 12-hour sleep, which sounds good, but it's too much, finally, Franklin sleeps 8 hours, which is necessary.

2. He (maybe) is musical:

There is not so much detail about this, but if we analyze his room (in both houses) he has a guitar, mixer, radio, speaker, and more (there's A LOT of music-related stuff in his room in his and Aunt Denise's house).

Here:

2. He has three favorite radio stations:

These are Radio Los Santos, West Coast Classics, and The Lab, each one ofc has their genre:

Radio LS:

Genre: Contemporary Hip-Hop.

Styles:

Alternative Hip-Hop

Cloud Rap

Conscious Hip-Hop

Contemporary Hip-Hop

Dirty Rap

Drill

Gangsta Rap

Mumble Rap

R&B

Trap

West Coast Classic:

Genre: Classic Hip-Hop

Styles:

Old School Hip-Hop

West Coast Hip-Hop

East Coast Hip-Hop

Southern Hip-Hop

Alternative Hip-Hop

Comedy Hip-Hop

Conscious Hip-Hop

Political Hip-Hop

Gangsta Rap

R&B

Horrorcore

G-Funk

Golden Age Hip-Hop

Hardcore Hip-Hop

The Lab:

Genre: Hip-Hop

Styles:

Electronica

Rock

Synth-Pop

Dancehall

R&B

Gangsta Rap

Pop Rap

3. He may be a Christian?

In the second mission, Franklin got with Michael, this one says sarcastically a vesicle from the Bible "It's a foolish man who builds his house in sand, baby" to which Franklin answers "I don't think my boy Matthew was thinking trucks when he wrote that shit."

4. He's the only one who uses lockpins:

When you take or steal cars with Trevor or Michael, it will always result in a broken window, but with Franklin, this doesn't happen since he uses lockpins.

5. He may like the sky view (Not official, just a thought):

This is just a speculation of different pictures you see in Franklin's page in gta.fandom.com, some of those are Franklin admiring the sky (especially at night) and the city in his Vinewood mansion, but honestly, who wouldn't?

Edit: He does, in one of his switch scenes you can see him using the telescope of his mansion.

6. (NSFW!) He (Probably) lost his virginity to Tonya at 13 years old:

Yeah, strong right? When you hear these two speaking to each other in little missions with Tonya, she revels that she and Franklin had, yk a moment, in the back of Burger Shot, however, Franklin denies it and says they didn't do anything serious.

7. He cannot play tennis:

You can play tennis with Michael, Trevor's a fan of it, and there's no reason behind of why Franklin can't play tennis (This can be used for like headcanon idk why).

8. Both him and Michael are know to smoke cigarettes:

At Franklin's mansion, you seem to find lots of ashtrays along with Redwood cigarettes scattered on tables.

9. His email address:

His e-mail address is Frankie@eyefind.info (I hc than he likes being called Frankie, idk why).

10. He exists:

Not irl, but the fandom (not all of them) tends to forget him, and it's very sad, he's so cool and precious.

11. He seems to be more compassionate towards animals:

For this one, I'll use the information straight from the gta.fandom.com page, since it's better and more detailed.

"Of the three protagonists, Franklin appears to have the most compassion for animals, possibly because he is the only main character to have a pet. When he runs over a wild animal, he usually responds with compassionate quotes, such as: "Sorry, little dude!" or "Watch out, little dude!" whereas Michael usually responds with sarcasm and Trevor with dark humor."

Anyway, that's all from my part, I'll try to post more content abt him and Lamar, I think they're such interesting characters, wish there was more content abt both of them.

Tysm for reading, bye :)

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 21: exhibitionism

nct 1.6k words female reader insert Reader x NCT DoJaeJung suggestive/SFW

🖤 warnings: exhibitionism without prior consent (kind of?), undernegotiated kink, a little bit of a mind game, the Perfume mv but if they could show dick🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

This resort hotel is fucking weird.

For one, it seems like only very, very hot people are vacationing here. The stunning girl in the room beside yours, who's been hanging her bikinis and her lacy nightwear out to dry on the little wrought-iron fence between your room's balcony and hers. The statuesque older couple, elegant and perfectly dressed and incredibly sweet when you greet them in the lobby for breakfast.

And the beautiful guy whose room backs up to yours, across the little courtyard, who does not close his bathroom shades before he indulges in a bubble bath.

At first, you feel bad for him.

You're trying to catch some early morning sun on your balcony before heading into town for the day. But when some motion catches your eye, and you glance across the courtyard, you see him. Naked from the waist up, windows open to let in the crisp morning air, music just barely audible over the gentle sounds of the wind.

The bathtub is full. There are flowers, and candles.

He's going to have a bath, and anyone who hazards a look in that direction will be able to see him. You do feel bad.

A call to the front desk - I'm not complaining, I just wanted to know, could you check on another guest who has the window open while he's...undressed? - yields nothing when you fail to give them any description beyond second floor, across from B-209, handsome young man.

If it was you, getting nude in front of an open window, you would want someone to tell you.

So you swallow your fear, and you calculate the room number. You'll tell him yourself.

It seems like A-207, if your Google Maps aerial view snooping and your hotel floor map scrutinizing are correct.

You swap out your room slippers for a pair of sandals, and you set out to save this dude from a little bit of public humiliation.

As it turns out, you are right on one assumption, and wrong on another.

You were right that his room is A-207.

When you knock on the door, that guy answers. Blessedly, he's wearing pants.

But you were wrong that he would want your advice, on the matter of his open windows.

"Oh, I know," he tells you flatly.

You're floored. "You..."

"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the looking out," he says, with a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "But I'm the one who opened the windows. I know they're open."

"Oh." You really don't know how to respond to that.

"Very nice of you to tell me," he assures you.

"But you want them open," you say.

His expression drops fully into that grin, deep dimples appearing and charming what's left of your wit right out of you. "Maybe I want people to see."

And with that, he nods, and closes the door on you.

When you get back to your room, you can't help but check. If he meant it.

You peek out your balcony doors again, toward that room so close across the way. The bathroom windows are still thrown wide, the sunlight streaming in and music trickling out.

He's in the bath, now, lounging on his back with his head pillowed on his folded arms.

Like you'd shouted for him, his attention turns toward you. He meets your eyes. Your heart stops for a second, embarrassed.

He smiles again. You can see the white glint of his teeth.

And then his hand slides into the water. Down, down, under the scant cover of bubbles.

You gasp, realizing what he's about to do, and you scuttle away from the doors.

Dude's weird.

--

You don't ask his name, before the guy staying two doors down from you pulls you into his room and shuts the door.

Mimosa-tipsy is a good look on him. Though, you suspect that pretty much anything would be a good look on a face like that. He's beautiful, like every other person at this resort. Classically handsome, perfectly proportioned. He's tall, and broad, and what he absolutely lacks in game he makes up for in unabashed passion.

That's how he got you here.

A quick compliment over brunch turned into a pitcher of mimosas for the table, more than a few peeks at the daring neckline of your comfy dress, and and invitation from you to do more than look. He's here with friends, he says, but they would understand if he's a little late to their afternoon plans.

It wasn't what you planned to do on this vacation, either, but it's a welcome turn of events.

"You're not too drunk for this, right?" you ask.

The guy scoffs. "Not even drunk. How about you?"

"I'm nearly sober," you say.

He doesn't look drunk, but he's got that flush to his cheeks and that looseness in his limbs that suggests he's a little warm. You trust his judgement.

"Let me know if anything isn't okay," you say.

"Of course."

His bed is artfully unmade, white linens strewn across the mattress like he'd thrown them all back at once and leapt out of bed earlier that morning. A breeze makes the curtains puff out in pretty waves, warm sunlight and cool air coming right in the open window.

He lays down, still in his crisp shirt and slacks, and he cuts a gorgeous figure against the pristine bedcovers.

You just look at him for a moment, taking in the vision of a man that you have every intention of devouring, before you go to the window and take hold of the curtain.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Can I close these?"

He hums. "Do you think we could leave them open?"

For the second time in two days, you feel your heart fluttering with nerves and shock and something like...anticipation.

"I...guess we can."

"Don't take that the wrong way, hey, you can close them if you want," he offers. "But if you're down..."

You hook up with him, trading body heat in the sun-warmed linens, those curtains wide open.

And when you've finished, and he's finished, and you're standing up to stretch out the kinks in your neck, you catch a glimpse out that open window.

The guy from yesterday has his bathroom window open again. And his main room's window, too. The balcony doors, wide open. You can see him. Facing back into the room, a bottle in his hand, he's just standing there on his balcony. If he turned around, even halfway, he would be looking right at you.

Fucking weird.

--

You meet your third beautiful man outside a cafe, on the shopping street just outside the resort gates.

"Jungwoo," he says, going in to shake your hand with the one of his that isn't clutching a big paper-wrapped bundle of flowers.

You introduce yourself in turn.

It's three bundles of flowers, actually. Wildflowers in different colors, some that you can name and some that you can't.

"Want one?" he asks.

"What are they for?"

He shrugs. "My friend is trying to get me into photography. We have a background planned. Long story."

You accept one long-stemmed clipping of baby's breath when he offers it, and he smiles.

"Are you staying around here?" he asks.

"The resort," you thumb behind you, at the courtyard you'd just left.

He brightens even more. "Me too!"

What with the apparent beauty standards for resort guests, that doesn't surprise you.

Jungwoo hoists the flowers higher in his arms. "You can totally say no, if it's weird, but...would you wanna come help me arrange these for the shoot? It's a boudoir kind of thing, gonna be all fancy furniture and closeups and flowers, and stuff."

"Why me?" you ask, amused.

"You look like you have an eye for aesthetics," he answers, smooth and sincere and prompt.

His voice is light and innocent, but there's a sharp intelligence in his eyes that suggests that he has every intention of putting this invitation to...another kind of good use.

"Maybe I don't," you say, "Maybe I'm hopeless."

"I want to find out for myself," he answers.

Well, you can't just leave the poor guy wondering. You follow Jungwoo back into the resort.

The main entrance is at the other side of the courtyard, lined on two sides by your building and the opposite one and the lobby space making a tight U shape. Chatter and music and liveliness from the balconies above makes you tilt your head back to look.

Two figures on their balconies.

Your bath guy, fully dressed, this time, but barely, in a sleeveless top under a delicate knit.

And across from him, two doors down, your brunch hookup, in yet another crisp buttoned shirt, done up only halfway.

"Took you long enough," the bath guy calls. "We don't have all day to play models for you."

"I made a friend," Jungwoo calls back.

Brunch guy laughs. "Looks like a friend that I made the other day."

"So familiar," bath guy agrees.

Here with friends.

Wanting people to see.

"They're a pain," Jungwoo says to you.

You're still following him.

"I understand if you really just want to fix the flowers," he tells you. "That's okay. But if you wanted to, oh, I don't know..."

"Do you know them?" you ask.

Jungwoo nods. "We're here all week. Yearly trip, for the old college roommates."

"If we..." you swallow hard. "If we...I mean. And they..."

You don't get your thoughts out, but you don't need to, it seems.

Jungwoo pauses, looks over your head in the direction where his two friends wait, on their facing balconies, and his smile returns.

"Don't worry about those guys," he tells you.

He leans in a little, like he's got a particularly juicy secret.

"They like to watch."

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hi! Whatsup! I was wondering if you could write some headcanons or imgines about necrobutcher getting jealous cuz fem reader was talking with a guy and the guy was flirting with her but she didnt realise. Idk. Do smut,fluf idc tbh(dony do angst please)

Thank you

With love 👽

- Necrobutcher - Jealous Headcanon -

Warning : fluff/comfort, kissing, jealousy, some dude trying to flirt

Info : Thanks for the request dear anon love back 👽 so have fun reading and as always everyone else too :)

Masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

---------------

°It was a simple party and the black circle was invited and the band was paid extra to give a private concert. Nothing special, a few classic songs and afterwards there was as much alcohol for everyone until they could go to the comma.

°A simple but exuberant party in which Hellhammer was also present with his girlfriend who was on her way to get another beer for herself and her boyfriend. The people around her danced to the music and rambled around the house but she was glad it wasn't hers

°When she arrived at the bar, she was waiting for the two beers when she noticed someone next to her. ,,Hey beauty, here all alone?" Someone asked and she turned away from him a little, pretending not to hear him. But when she felt a hand on hers, she turned to him with a warning look.

°She didn't know him and he didn't know her, but he didn't seem to mind that he kept trying to get her around eventho she clearly not. At a moment when she was about to pull a beer bottle over his head, she suddenly felt a hand on her hip. Two arms wrapped around her and a kiss was pressed on her neck.

°,,Honey, is this guy bothering you?" Her friend asked in a feigned tone of ignorance and continued kissing along her neck. Necrobutcher loved to reveal what were actually romantic, loving gestures in bed to others. A sign that she belonged to him

°,,Oh yes?" the man opposite asked and wanted to reach for her hand, apparently he hadn't seen who it belonged to. Before Necrobutche gently pulled her back in one swift movement and tipped her beer bottle over the other's skull.

°The glass shattered on the head of the cursing man, who staggered for a moment before Necrobutcher called out ,,Goodbye!" to their mutual friends, the black tic only laughing, knowing full well what must have happened again.

°Her own smile could not be suppressed as he practically pulled her out of the party and towards his motorcycle. ,,My brave knight," she joked and received another kiss before they sat down on his motorcycle. She had seen the look on his face, had seen his lust and knew that as soon as she joined him, they would have fun.

°,,It's going to be a fun night," he cheered, revving the engine before speeding down the street towards his apartment. One hand on the steering wheel and the other on her thigh let out little creases and let her know that it was going to be a long and rewarding night.

---------------

[taminodaily]

— tamino explains why he doesn't like when western media focuses on his identity:

i grew up in belgium, but i have egyptian and lebanese roots. even though i grew up with my belgian mom mainly, she always thought it was important to also let us be in touch with that side of our roots. we had always had arabic music around the house, but also classical, and the pop stuff; the beatles, all that good stuff. so, i have always felt like i had a connection to those roots through music because i don't speak the language, but somehow i always understood the music. it was like a language that i understood. music in general, but also arabic music; learning to play the oud has brought me even closer to it.

as much as i appreciated myself—my roots and everything, it's of course clearly an influence in my music—i don't think it should be the main thing, you know what i mean? like it could easily become a gimmicky thing, "oh yeah. that dude with the arabic thing." in a way i understand the importance of being able to quickly describe an artist, and if you can do that in one sentence and get people interested, that's quite good. if people ask me, "what kind of music do you make?" i usually say, "well, it's sort of melancholic singer-songwriter music with some arabic influence." just to give a quick answer, you know? and then maybe it will spark an interest to check it out. i do think that in general, there's a whole movement of identity politics. and i think in music, in arts, in how we look at artists, sometimes there is a tendency to care more about who the artist is instead of what he makes. and that is something that i personally don't agree with or really connect to. i always think the work comes first. i'm not going to name names, but when i see famous people on television or in interviews, i love them. they're a great personality. they're so good at being a celebrity. but i don't like their work. (esquire interview, 2022)