#and going through the weirdest shapes in between

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[bloatedandalone04]

Kiwi

Summary: You’re pregnant with Rafe’s baby, and he’s more stressed out about it than you are (and rightfully so).

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: fluff, swearing, protective rafe, soon to be dad rafe, smut, angst if you squint, unprotected sex, pregnancy.

You were steadily entering your second trimester, which was shaping out to be a little easier than your first. You were still craving the weirdest food combinations, but Rafe would never complain about needing to go out and buy them for you since the grateful smile you always gave him made his heart feel so full. 

Seven years with you, and he was still as crazy about you as he’d been since the first date. 

With that being said, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to like your weird (and sometimes really fucking gross) pregnancy cravings. But he would have to, since you’re carrying his baby like a fucking champ, and you looked so stunning while doing so. 

Rafe had just gotten back from a grocery store run, sporting a bag full of odd food choices for you, and he set it down on the counter before leaving the kitchen to go find you. 

You were in the living room, your feet planted on the couch as you scrolled through your phone. Why you were standing on the couch, he had no idea, but the thought of you accidentally falling was the first thing that flashed through his head, and he was not about to let that happen. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasped, quickly walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re four months pregnant, babygirl, you need to be careful. Jesus Christ.”

“I am being careful,” you defended yourself, holding your phone in one hand while your other ran through his hair. You looked around the living room, your eyes flickering between every corner as you stayed standing on the couch. “I saw a spider, and I don’t know where it went. And you know how much I hate spiders. I had to make sure it didn’t crawl on me or something. Then I would’ve been the one having a heart attack.”

You sounded so unserious, but Rafe knew you were being completely genuine. Your fear of anything that had more than two legs was no joke, and he couldn’t count the times he’s killed something for you on both hands. 

“Plus, I’ve only been standing here for, like, five minutes,” you added, looking down at him and shrugging casually, as if you didn’t feel the way his grip tightened on you at your words. 

“Five minutes is too fucking long,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head afterwards as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against your belly. “You’re not thinking straight right now, are you? That’s the only logical explanation for this.”

His big hands stayed planted on your waist, keeping you steady as he pulled away and looked up at you, his blue eyes wide and full of nothing but adoration for you and the little life growing inside of you. 

“You’re going to give me gray hairs, you know that right?” he grunted, a smile forming on his lips when you let out a soft laugh. 

“Ooh, silver fox Rafe,” you teased, draping your arms around his neck as he helped you off the couch. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You’d look so fucking hot with gray hair, baby. Like, so fucking sexy. So don’t tempt me.”

Rafe scoffed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Silver fox? I’m twenty nine, baby, not forty,” he mumbled, “But, I guess if you like that sorta thing…who am I to judge?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch as you pressed your lips to his jaw. “I like anything that involves you,”

He smiled down at you, his hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I like anything that involves you too, babygirl,” he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed against yours. “Actually, I love everything that involves you.”

Then he was leaning all the way in and kissing you deeply and slowly, his hands sliding down your body until they grazed your ass, and then he was full on groping you through your leggings. 

You whined against his mouth, your lips pressing more firmly against his as you pulled him impossibly closer to you until your bump was pushing against his abs. “You always have to one up me, don’t you?” you muttered, “And what’s with you always grabbing my ass? You’ve been obsessed with it since we got together.”

Rafe smirked down at you. “Of course I’m obsessed with it, it’s part of you,” he replied, and you pressed your lips together. 

“You are so fucking sweet and sexy and I think we should go to our bedroom before I-” you cut yourself off by screaming directly into your husband’s face as you practically jumped back up onto the couch with wide eyes. 

Rafe didn’t even need to turn around to know that the eight legged creature who scared you before had made its big return. “What did I tell you?” he muttered, taking you into his arms as he lifted you from the couch. 

“Rafe! Stop, it’s literally right there and it’s so fucking big,” you protested as he carried you out of the living room and into the kitchen. Once he had you sitting safely at the breakfast bar, he slid the bag of food over for you to inspect as he grabbed a piece of paper towel. 

“Stay here, okay? Eat something,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he walked back into the living room to find the harmless insect that had been tormenting you during the entire time he was gone. 

-

You were pulling Rafe along with you towards the bedroom, your lips all over his neck and jaw, but he was moving so slowly. You were now six months pregnant, and Rafe had become more and more protective of you, if that was even possible at this point. 

And while you loved him for it, his hesitation every time you initiated sex was making you go crazy. You were so turned on, and you needed your husband. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you walked backwards. “I need you. I need you so bad. Please? I promise, I won’t break.” you whined, nearly stumbling as you pulled him along with you. 

Rafe’s hands instantly tightened on your waist, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your belly as it pressed against his abs through his shirt. “Easy, babygirl,” he cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” 

While you knew he wanted to be gentle and sweet with you, you also knew exactly how to rile him up and get him going. Rafe had been obsessed with your body since the second he first saw you completely bare, and his obsession had only intensified once your body began to change due to your pregnancy. 

You stepped back and pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts that had grown so much, they were nearly spilling out of your bra. You watched Rafe bite his lip before you moved onto your leggings, and you stepped out of them and kicked them aside as well. 

Rafe groaned as he pulled off his own shirt and jeans, his hands finding your waist again as he moved to sit on the bed. “Come here,” he murmured, sliding your panties down your legs before he guided you onto his lap. 

You willingly went, a needy whine leaving your lips as you settled on top of him and pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard cock. “I love you,” you moaned, kissing him as you began to rub yourself along his dick. “I love you so much.”

He gripped your hips, guiding the slow rolls of your body. “I love you too, baby,” he groaned, “More than my next fucking breath.”

His words made your head feel all fuzzy, and he lifted you slightly to position himself at your soaked core. When he eased you back down onto his cock, you both let out a sound of relief as you came together as one, and you reveled in the feeling of his big hands on your body. 

“Fucking perfect,” he praised, his eyes hooded as his hands slid around to grip your ass gently.

You moaned loudly, holding onto his shoulders as you rolled your hips against his as best as you could with your bump persistently brushing against his stomach. “Fuck,” you whimpered, arching your back a bit and making your chest press right up against his. “Oh fuck, Rafe, you feel so good.” 

He felt so good, you were powerless to stop the loud moans from leaving your mouth as you rode him. Rafe’s hands slid up your back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra before he pulled the fabric away from your body, his palms immediately roaming over the newly exposed skin. “Fuck, babygirl, you’re so tight and wet for me. Sweet pussy was made for my cock,” he grunted, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they pebbled under his touch. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Then he was leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue brushing against yours as he met your bounces with upward thrusts of his hips. You moaned against his mouth, his words making your body heat up in a blush. You’d never get tired of hearing him say things like that. 

His hands moved to your belly, and he caressed it as he broke the kiss and buried his face against your shoulder. “God, you feel so good,” he moaned, making your blush deepen as you moved a little faster and a bit harder.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt your thighs start to burn from over-exertion. “Oh, fuck…I’m gonna cum.” you warned, feeling the knot that had been steadily building up inside you start to tighten. 

Rafe grunted, reaching in between your bodies until the heel of his hand was pressed firmly against the underside of your belly and his fingers were brushing against your clit. “Yeah, cum for me, baby,” he murmured, his other hand moving to your hip as he guided you to take him a little harder. “I’m close too.”

His fingers pushed you over the edge, and your head fell forward onto his shoulder as you came for him. A cry left your lips as you weakly bounced on his lap, your legs shaking a bit as you pulled on his hair. “Fuck,” you gasped, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as you felt him thrust a few more times before he stilled.

A deep groan left the back of his throat as he held you close to him, his warmth filling you up from the inside out as he let out harsh pants against the side of your neck. “I’ll never get over that,” he muttered, placing soft kisses along your shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your back. “I’ll never get over you.”

You grinned as he gently eased you off him and moved back on the bed, taking you with him as he leaned back against the pillows. “Good,” you hummed as he turned you around and spooned you from behind. “Because I think you’re stuck with me for life.”

When you guided his big palm to rest on your belly, Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head as his thumb rubbed along your swollen skin. “Good,” he echoed. “Because you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. You’re all I want in the world.”

A lazy smile formed on your lips as you snuggled back against him, and only a few seconds later, you had fallen asleep.

-

Not me working on my birthday again...thanks for reading x

[midnightshindig]

HII! I was wondering if I can request Allen dating fem!reader who likes dressing all pinkalicious and loves showing him all her outfits? Also if it’s ok can it be dating hcs please and thank you 🫶🫶🫶

Allen X fem!reader

Oh my gosh I love Allen so much you have no idea

Hcs below the cut!

A huge misconception is that Allen prioritizess strength over everything else

This couldn’t be further from the truth!

He respects a militant disposition and a strong sense of strength and discipline, but he values freedom over anything else

He’s big and strong so that nobody else ever has to be

Like why is he even fighting to protect planets if not for the right of cute girls to get to wear cute outfits?

Cue the Kill La Kill “I wanna go on a date with you” monologue or smth:

But he would NEVER judge someone for how they dress

So when he meets you it’s like not even a problem

He actually is super into it, aesthetically speaking

You’re refreshing as all get out, and a necessary reprieve from the stress of his day to day life.

He’s always in his uniform, or some variation inspired by it, but you’ve always got something new going on

He’s observant by nature, so he always points things out

“oh! Is that a new hair clip? It really suits your face shape ^^”

He’s so silly

Allen doesn’t know a lot about your interests, but he thinks the contrast between the two of you is hilarious

Just this huge orange alien dude like ripped as fuck in a superhero costume, and his cutesy dainty human girlfriend holding his hand

God you two would do numbers on tumblr

Lowkey kind of loves going to the mall with you/watching you unbox new clothes

You’re very conscious about your consumption habits, so a fun way to not overconsume is playing dress up with new combinations of clothes you already have

You let Allen pick an article from your closet, and style a whole new look around it!

This is a whole day affair for you two, usually ending with you wearing your favorite “new” outfit on a nighttime date

You wear a lot of platforms and heels

Platform Mary Jane’s, dainty kitten heels, even sometimes sparkly pink or white gogo boots, all so that you approach his height

You’re like, not even THAT short for a human, depending on the country

But next to him it’s like

Ugh yeah gimme the six inch platforms not the four inch, I’m seeing my mans today

He doesn’t mind at all, and picks you up to kiss him when needed

He has the weirdest taste In food, to the point you hardly get meals together because it’s so… peculiar?

But he’s got a huge sweet tooth so you go get sweets a lot

“Y/n- look! This cupcake is pink and frilly just like your skirt!” And he’s holding an ornately decorated cupcake the same shade of pink as your skirt, so proud of himself

You ask him to braid your hair once and it goes SO badly

The man only has three fingers, damnit!

But he does his best and eventually you settle for him just combing his fingers through your hair

Sometimes he wear a pink button up or tie or something when you go on formal dates or to formal diplomatic events so he matches you

But like pink and orange is kind of a weird combo

So you both incorporate either white or black into both outfits so you can match on some level

If and when you get engaged, your rings look nothinggg alike

Yours is sparkly and bejeweled and perfect and gorgeous

And his is a plain black band

He’s the kinda dude to wear those fugly silicone bands bc it’s practical

But he loves you so who even cares?

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER ONE

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, late-night facetime calls, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

“Okay, let’s go over this one more time—”

A chorus of groans erupted around you, loud and exaggerated. Se-Mi flopped dramatically onto the couch, Ji-Yeong threw her head back like you had just sentenced her to death, and No-Eul simply sighed as she scrolled through her phone.

“I mean it,” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in the middle of the hotel suite. “This is a BuzzFeed interview. They’re going to ask easy, fun questions, but you guys still need to sound like you have at least half a brain between the four of you.”

Sae-Byeok, sitting on the arm of the couch, smirked. “That’s a lot to ask.”

You shot her a look, and she just raised her hands in surrender.

“This is why you’re our manager and not our PR rep,” Ji-Yeong said, grinning. “You actually care if we sound stupid.”

“Yes, and I’d like to keep my job,” you shot back. “So please, for the love of everything holy, just try not to say anything that’ll get us trending for the wrong reasons.”

Se-Mi, still sprawled on the couch, waved a hand lazily. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll be fine. It’s just BuzzFeed.”

“Yeah,” Ji-Yeong chimed in, “worst case scenario, we end up in some ‘Dumbest Celebrity Interview Moments’ compilation on YouTube. Free promo.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I hate all of you.”

No-Eul, ever the voice of reason, finally spoke up. “They’ll behave,” she said, barely looking up from her phone. “Mostly.”

“That’s not reassuring,” you muttered.

Sae-Byeok, watching you with an amused expression, nudged your side with her foot. “You worry too much.”

“Because one of us has to,” you shot back.

She smirked. “And that’s why you’re our favorite.”

Before you could process that (did Sae-Byeok just call you their favorite?), a knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Their stylist popped her head in, clipboard in hand.

“Alright, you guys,” she said. “Time to get dressed. Interview’s in an hour.”

Se-Mi groaned as she sat up. “Ugh, do we have to?”

“Yes,” you, No-Eul, and the stylist all said at the same time.

Ji-Yeong snickered. “Alright, alright, let’s go.”

As they shuffled off to get ready, Sae-Byeok lingered for a second, watching you.

“You’re really stressed about this, huh?” she asked, tilting her head.

You exhaled. “I just want this to go well. You guys are blowing up, and interviews like this can really shape how people see you.”

She was quiet for a moment, then—

“…We’ll be fine.”

You looked up at her.

There was something steady in the way she said it, something that made you believe her.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You better be.”

She smirked and, with that, disappeared into the dressing room.

And you? You just prayed they wouldn’t give you a heart attack on live camera.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching as the girls got settled in the bright, modern-looking BuzzFeed studio. Cameras were being adjusted, mic packs were clipped onto their outfits, and a giant board with pre-written search questions was placed in front of them.

Ji-Yeong, of course, was already messing with it. “Ooooh, the mystery,” she teased, wiggling her fingers dramatically over the top of the board.

Se-Mi grinned, leaning forward. “I love these types of interviews. People Google the weirdest shit.”

No-Eul sighed, adjusting her mic. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Sae-Byeok, as usual, looked completely unbothered, sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed, waiting for things to start.

The interviewer, a cheerful BuzzFeed staff member, smiled at them from across the table. “Alright! Welcome, HOT DIVISION!”

A chorus of greetings followed, with Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi being the loudest while No-Eul and Sae-Byeok gave more subdued nods.

“We’re going to be doing the ‘Most Searched Questions’,” the interviewer explained, patting the board. “Each of these has a commonly searched question about you guys, and you’ll take turns peeling them off and answering.”

Ji-Yeong rubbed her hands together. “Let’s go.”

You prayed they wouldn’t say anything that would give your PR team a migraine.

Ji-Yeong, naturally, was the first to go. She dramatically peeled off the first strip of paper, reading it aloud.

“‘Is Kim Ji-Yeong… actually as chaotic as people say?’”

She gasped, clutching her chest. “I am offended by this question.”

Se-Mi snorted. “You shouldn’t be. It’s true.”

Ji-Yeong turned to the camera, dead serious. “I am a delight to be around.”

No-Eul, without looking up, muttered, “That’s a lie.”

Sae-Byeok just smirked, shaking her head.

Ji-Yeong sighed dramatically. “Fine. Yes. I am chaotic. But would you all love me if I wasn’t?”

Se-Mi threw an arm around her. “Exactly. Chaos is in our brand.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose from the sidelines.

Sae-Byeok lazily reached forward, peeling off the next strip. She read it, then raised an eyebrow.

“‘Is Kang Sae-Byeok single?’”

Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi exploded into laughter.

“OH, THIS IS GOOD,” Se-Mi cackled, slapping the table.

Sae-Byeok just sighed, giving the camera a blank look. “Yes.”

Ji-Yeong leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. “And are you—”

“No.”

Se-Mi pouted. “You didn’t even let her finish.”

Sae-Byeok shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

You watched from the sidelines, carefully keeping your expression neutral. (Not that you were thinking about it. Not at all.)

No-Eul peeled her question off, scanning it briefly before exhaling.

“‘Is Kang No-Eul the mom of the group?’”

The response was immediate.

“Yes,” Se-Mi said.

“Absolutely,” Ji-Yeong added.

“The only responsible one,” Sae-Byeok confirmed.

No-Eul, unimpressed, just stared at them. “I hate all of you.”

Ji-Yeong grinned. “See? Mom behavior.”

Fourth Question: "Is Han Se-Mi…?"

Se-Mi eagerly peeled off her question, reading it with interest.

“‘Is Han Se-Mi the flirtiest member?’”

You already knew what was coming.

Se-Mi gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Me? A flirt? How dare you.”

Sae-Byeok rolled her eyes. “You literally flirt with the camera.”

Ji-Yeong nodded sagely. “She flirts with air molecules.”

Se-Mi turned to the camera, giving a slow, knowing smirk. “I just like to make people feel special.”

From the side, you muttered under your breath, “Menace.”

Se-Mi heard you and shot a wink in your direction.

Ji-Yeong peeled off the last question, reading it aloud.

“‘Is HOT DIVISION the next big thing in rock?’”

The girls exchanged glances.

Then, Sae-Byeok leaned forward slightly, looking straight into the camera.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just raw confidence.

Ji-Yeong smirked. “Damn right we are.”

Se-Mi grinned. “Hope you’re all ready.”

No-Eul nodded. “Because we’re not slowing down.”

From the sidelines, you felt something warm bloom in your chest.

They had come a long way. And they were just getting started.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25

[sandersontheside]

Happy October 1st! Have some fun Halloween themed HCs!

Haunted House/Maze:

Virgil loves haunted houses because it's scary in a controlled way and he ultimately knows he's safe. But he won't go alone. So, he drags Roman with him. Roman talks a big game about protecting Virgil, but ends up mostly clinging to Virgil the whole time and scraming his high pitched girl scream.

Janus, Remus, and Logan also appreciate a haunted house. Janus likes to roleplay with the actors. Remus has been kicked out at least once before for accidentally punching an actor on reflex.

Patton does NOT like haunted houses and will wait in line at the snack shack to buy everyone hot cider and donuts to enjoy when they're done.

Roman is a big fan of "getting lost" in the maze to make out (Virgil is also partial to this, though he definitely prefers the haunted house).

Logan appreciate the puzzle, which is good because Patton has no sense of direction and would be utterly lost without Logan.

Remus cuts right through the corn and jumps out at people. Janus is the only one he is never able to scare, no matter how hard he tries.

Pumpkin Patch/Pumpkin Carving:

Roman and Remus get really into pumpkin carving every year, the more intricate and over the top, the better. It's also sort of a competition with them. Virgil also gets into this, but he's less intense about it.

Patton collects the pumpkin seeds from aforementioned carving and roasts them! He's also the one who suggests sprinkling cinnamon in the carved pumpkins, so they smell like pumpkin pie when you light a candle in them.

Logan likes to design pumpkins, but hates the actual carving (the pumpkin guts are too gooey and it's a sensory nightmare) so he makes a template and then has Patton do it for him.

Janus doesn't carve a pumpkin (he doesn't want to take his gloves off), so he becomes the impartial judge of the impromptu pumpkin competition. Roman insists this is unfair, because he's "biased towards Remus" but he's vetoed.

Remus selects the ugliest, knobbiest, weirdest looking pumpkins to carve because "they'll be scarier that way" and "they have more character" while Roman selects the smoothest, most perfectly shaped pumpkins to carve because he likes a nice, clean canvas, and "it's just so SHAPED" and pleasing to the eye.

In addition to carving pumpkins, sometimes Patton will select a small, sweet pumpkin to roast and puree to make pumpkin pie. He insists that roasting the pumpkin yourself is vastly superior to the canned stuff (he's right).

Costumes:

Logan is big on obscure nerd costumes that no one else understands until he explains it. He's out here dressing up like famous scientists and stuff like that. Sometimes he lets Patton talk him into something more recognizable though.

Virgil always always makes his costumes himself. We're talking sewing, hot glue, making props, etc. He starts planning in the summer to make sure he has enough time. And he always goes for something scary.

Janus also plans early, but he's not afraid to buy things. Usually his costumes come from scouring thrift stores. No one can spot a treasure at the Goodwill like Janus.

Roman and Remus will pick costumes that either go together or completely clash, and there's no in between. One year, they'll be Peter Pan (Remus) and Captain Hook (Roman), the next year Roman is Superman/Clark Kent and Remus is in one of those inflatable dinosaur costumes.

Patton always has grandiose ideas for costumes, and then waits to the last minute and throws something together. Usually he goes for cute rather than scary.

Various Other Stuff:

Virgil will die before he admits this, but he fucking LOVES pumpkin spice. He claims he likes his coffee "black like my soul" but in secret he might love a PSL even more than Patton.

Roman and Remus take candy trades very, very seriously as kids. If either of them ends up with more of one thing it will result in all out war between them.

Patton and Virgil go absolutely balls-to-the-wall when it comes to decorations. Spirit Halloween exploded all over everything. Logan wisely doesn't ask how much it cost.

Janus answers "trick-or-treat" with "trick" every time and sets up friendly spooky Halloween pranks for his friends. Nothing too bad, and he usually has a treat for them afterwards, too.

Roman hosts Halloween movie marathons. The campier the better. Your Halloweentowns and your Hocus Pocuses and your Beetlejuices and your Scooby-Doos. Of course, Remus and Virgil slip some actually scary stuff in there, too. (Roman isn't too upset about it, as long as he can jump into Virgil's lap when he's scared)

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

Seems this was a popular concept! ❤️🧡💛

@angeldaisies @rhiannons-bird @tiredandoptimistic

HERE WE GO!

Cordelia deeply enjoys gardening. She has a massive garden outside Curzon Street and grows flowers, fruits, and vegetables. For one of their anniversaries, James builds her a greenhouse so she can grow those that thrive in different climates, too.

James really does not enjoy getting his hair cut. He puts it off and puts it off for long periods. This is partially inspired by a CJ comic from several years ago, but I think it continues well into adulthood. He just doesn't like the feeling of it being clipped evenly and hitting the nape of his neck. He only gets them when Cordelia insists he should, which isn't often because she loves running his hands through his shaggy hair.

Matthew broke into Buckingham Palace once. He used the grappling hook that he frequently used to break into the Institute. The hook wound up hitting a bedroom that turned out to be the King's, and he could not see it since it was glamoured. He did hear the clank, though, and when Matthew ascended, he was treated to the sight of a pajama-clad King Edward with his haunted-looking eyes bugging out of his head. He immediately realized he fucked up, slid back down the rope, and went to find James to share his misadventurous plight.

Thomas has a nervous tic where he scratches his nose. Alastair finds it incredibly endearing. Over the years, as he becomes more confident with himself, the habit fades. He periodically still does it, and every time, Alastair feels his heart glowing.

Alastair wakes up in the middle of the night frequently because he's hungry. But he doesn't really think. It's somewhere between sleepwalking and waking up in the middle of the night. He's neither asleep nor awake. He goes to the pantry and eats Thomas's food without fail. They have had many an argument over this. Somehow it always ends in Thomas buying Alastair more food when he goes to replace the food he ate for himself.

Anna has a little collection of eclectic buttons that she keeps in a small box. They're not normal buttons - they're genuinely the weirdest ones she can find. They're all odd shapes, or they have intricate patterns on them. One's more holes than plastic. She likes how oddly interesting they are.

As a girl with a parrot, we know Ari likes birds. But did you know that she also enjoys bird-watching? Well, she DOES! She drags Anna on a birding vacation to California one year, and they see tons of local bird varieties. Anna finds that she, too, very much enjoys birds after this.

In addition to chemistry, Christopher has a penchant for baking. After all, they're basically the same thing - a series of reactions that produce a result. He's an extremely good baker and enjoys treating his friends to homemade cookies and cupcakes. He takes special care to learn his friends' favorite recipes, and he makes a mean Charlotte Russe for Matthew. It's incomparable.

Grace is able to experiment with fashion more after Tatiana dies, and she collects an impressive collection of earbobs. Some of them look nice on her. Some of them are themed, like Christmas ones that look like little icicles and presents. Others are extremely ugly, but she likes wearing them. After all, she doesn't need to look flawless anymore.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 3 - An Unwelcomed Guest

— — — — — — —

Bill’s head hurt.

A searing ache throbbed at the back of his skull while consciousness returned to him once again. No pain in recent memory compared to something like this; even getting his eye ripped out of its socket had been more of an inconvenience at worst. It took forever to regenerate those things!

The closest thing he could compare such intense pain to was his outright death, which sent a jolt of panic through his mind that only furthered his headache. He wasn’t dead again, was he—

“Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Oh. Right.

Any concerns were washed away in an instant as the feathery face of the shelduck drifted to the front of his mind. Not just their face, but the conversation the two of them had shared in the mindscape. The game they had wanted him to play, their contract, the destruction of the barrier as a prize—

—something was wrong.

Even with his eyelid still closed, Bill could physically feel a disconnect with his body. 

It was difficult to verbalize properly—his eye felt too distant from his limbs, and his usual shape felt noticeably altered. As if he’d slipped into a costume with lots of awkward parts, ones that stuck out in ways that forced him to be aware of their existence as he tried to descend down a narrow passageway.

Almost exactly how he’d felt whenever he possessed someone in the past. 

But the way the body suited itself around his existence, it didn’t feel like it would belong to a talking, anthropomorphic shelduck. Even with his eye closed, Bill could still feel a lack of any feathers pinpricking their way through his skin, or a beak protruding from his face—

“When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

…Ah.

Alright, even he couldn’t ignore a good loophole dodge when he saw it. Point to Tangy for their oh-so-clever little trick; he’d be sure to give them kudos for it later. 

Kudos in the form of soaking their tacky windbreaker in a gallon of rotten tuna fish for a month. Good luck getting the smell out after that one, Birdbrain!

“—what if he’s not even in there anymore?”

“Yeah, he could’ve jumped out after Wendy clunked him on the back of the head!”

“Are we even sure it’s him in the first place? Just sayin’, some random kid cackling maniacally in the middle of the woods isn’t the weirdest thing to happen around here.”

“Everyone just hold on a second, I’m trying to think—”

The sound of frantic, hushed voices stirred him further awake, and he fluttered his eyelid—no, wait, eyelids plural—open the tiniest amount to investigate. 

It didn’t seem like Birdbrain had taken any extreme measures with his vision; he still possessed a functioning eyeball. But rather than being set in the center of his face, his vision had taken a hard shift to the left and weakened to a noticeable degree. And while his vision hadn’t carried over to the right side of his face, he could feel another eyeball rotating around in its socket.

Almost as much as he could feel a set of teeth and tongue in a separate cavity much lower on his face—oh, eugh, he’d forgotten how bizarre it felt to have his face parts separated like this, and not even the fun kind of bizarre!—or a protruding nose right smack dab between his new pair of eyes.

Alright, so Birdbrain had gone humanoid for his vessel. Bit cliché, but nothing he wasn’t used to by this point. And if his mouth and eye placement weren’t enough to confirm this fact, peering open his eyelids further revealed his head to be slumped forwards, gaze fixed on a pair of black-panted human legs that were clearly attached to his body.

Yep, there was no denying that he’d been slapped back into a meatsuit mecha.

An even-riskier peek around him revealed he was currently tied up in some sort of bedroom. One clearly owned by the word’s most generic older woman of all time; creme-colored floral wallpaper decorated the walls, a shelf lined with creepy, porcelain dolls was situated near the door, and a comfortable old recliner had been set up near the fireplace—

—hang on, wasn’t this just the parlor room in the Shack?

“He’s awake!”

Shoot. Guess he’d made it a bit too obvious that he’d regained consciousness.

Bill’s head snapped up to full height at the sudden exclamation, only find himself on the receiving end of a number of different intimidation methods—all to various degrees of effectiveness.

Mabel’s weapon of choice was her beloved grappling hook. One of the better options of the bunch; metal was strong enough to shatter a fragile human skull if aimed at just the right spot and applied with just enough power and force. Terrible for his current vessel, but Bill could appreciate a healthy level of bloodlust.

Stan’s brass-knuckled fists were—admittedly—also an inspired choice, given how effective his fists had been in the past. A fact that Bill was happy to ignore and brush to the side as he shifted his attention over to—

—the random plank of wood in Dipper’s hands, one he was gripping tightly with all the intimidation of a mildly-inconvenienced kitten. Yeesh, had he even tried?

Of course, Pine Tree’s embarrassing incompetence was compensated in full by the gun in Ford’s hand, both the barrel and his own violent gaze locked onto Bill like his life depended on it.

Hmm, that was annoying.

And here Bill had hoped he could keep his return discreet for at least a short while before these suckers caught wind. Maybe strike some fear and uncertainty in their naive minds by staring ominously at them through their windows, only to vanish from sight when they came over to investigate. 

Were their minds playing tricks on them now that they were back in town? Were they simply paranoid as a result of what happened the year before? Or was there really someone watching them beyond the shadows of the trees? 

Maybe if his methods were effective enough, Ford would even start shooting at the woods in a blind panic. Heck, maybe one of the kids would even get caught in the crossfire!

Y’know, fun stuff like that.

But unfortunately for Bill, it seemed like he’d dropped right into the belly of the beast and Ford had gained the upper hand while he’d been unconscious. 

Any attempts to move his new human limbs revealed them to be restrained to the chair he was seated upon; arms tucked behind the back and bound at the wrists, torso tied in place—what, had there been a sale on rope or something? It was a miracle they’d left his legs alone—or maybe they’d just run out of rope by that point?

Nope, an abandoned piece near the far wall rendered that guess incorrect. Maybe they just hadn’t had enough time to restrain his legs, then?

Moving the focus back to his captors, Bill’s gaze bounced from person to person as he took a quick stock of their expressions. Unanimous hatred and fury trying so desperately to mask the uncertainty and fear behind their expressions. The clear desire to come across as intimidating, despite the trembling hands around their weapons.

So much fear, despite having the upper hand over him. Bill was tied to a chair and barely conscious, yet he could get a reaction like this outta them?

Good.

Because otherwise, he had no idea how he would be able to spin this situation to his advantage. With the element of surprise and mobility no longer an option for him, tapping into those fears and insecurities was the only weapon that Bill had left at his disposal.

Speaking of which—

The silence in the room stretched on as the Pines continued to stare at him, to the point where Bill was starting to grow bored. Sure, leaving them forever entrenched in uncertainty might be fun in theory, but that also required him to remain quiet for just as long.

And while that wasn’t an impossible order, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter.

He needed just the right comment to break the ice. A perfect reintroduction to his presence in their lives, one that would only strengthen that fear behind their eyes.

“I gotta ask, what didja think a gun was gonna do against me?” he asked with a grin at Ford. “I mean, do you really think regular old bullets are going to be enough to get the job done?”

His pupil flicked over to Dipper. “Guess it’s better than whatever Junior’s got going on over there, though,” he said. “Seriously, Pine Tree, a piece of wood? I guess you might have a chance at beating me in a game of interdimensional rock-paper-scissors, but outside of that, I don’t like your odds.”

Just for good measure, he punctuated everything with his loud, trademark cackle—one that shook the room and everyone in it.

Oh yeah, that’d do the trick nicely.

Sure enough, everyone’s grip on their weapons tensed, the fear in their faces now completely tangible as the worst scenario they could possibly imagine was confirmed.

“Bill.”

It was Ford who spoke first, tone marinaded in venom as he stared Bill down. Such vitriol sent another cackle throughout Bill, his body wiggling with delight against the bonds that held him to the chair. “Aww, it’s good to see you too, Sixer~!” he said sweetly. “What’s it been, about nine months now? Nice beard, by the way. Really brings your face together in a way that those sideburns didn’t, know what I mean?”

His amusement fell with a vindictiveness he made no attempt to mask. “Although if you ask me, I’d suggest taking up that old face-burning habit of yours to clear everything up and start fresh,” he said, narrowing his eye—eyes. “I mean, you’re clearly the expert in burning things around here. Facial hair, bridges, minds with me in them—”

Bill was cut off by the cold, threatening steel of the gun barrel being pressed against his cheek, pupil flitting up to Ford’s own cold, threatening gaze. “Stop talking.”

Oh, he was real mad. 

Of course, not even Ford’s ire was enough to silence Bill completely, and he managed a smug grin despite the distortion of his cheek against the weapon’s tip. “Again I ask: just a regular gun? No Quantum Destabilizer? No memory-erasing device or fancy-schmancy magical weapon from your precious journals? You must really getting dull in your old age if you're busting out the repeat performances, Fordsy.”

He tilted his head, half in thought and half to give himself some breathing room. “Although I have to wonder why you didn’t just try to kill me while I was knocked out, if you’re this trigger-happy?”

The answer to that one was pretty obvious. Given their initial reactions, they hadn’t been certain if he had actually been possessing someone—and they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human on the off-chance they were wrong. And now that he was awake and his presence confirmed, they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human while he was possessing them.

And if that was truly the case, it probably meant he was free to run his mouth as much as he wanted.

Probably. 

Maybe?

“Ooh, lemme guess: you wanted me to be awake before you pumped me full of lead?”

…Aw, heck with it; he couldn’t resist a chance to press a few more of Ford’s buttons! To really test the waters on what he could get away with saying or doing. “Well, I’d love to see you take your best shot at it~!” he continued with a wide grin, one that show far too much of his gums. Guess that was one benefit to having a humanoid vessel again. “I know it’ll probably get a real laugh outta the poor sucker I’m puppeting around now—”

There was a click of the hammer as the tip was pressed further into his cheek, to the point where not even leaning away from it would pull Bill out of its line of fire.

Alright, limit reached for the time being. “Okay, okay, geez, I get the picture,” he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Can I at least ask for a mirror or something? I wanna see what I’m working with over here.”

Okay, maybe one more. “I’d fetch one myself, but as you can see, I’m a bit tied up at the moment~!”

Ha. Hilarious.

Luckily for him, his clever little risk seemed to pay off in the unexpected way of making Ford lower his weapon, with an added bonus of painting a look of confusion across his face. And judging by the looks being exchanged between the other family members, it was clear that his little joke had been far more effective in causing confusion than he’d originally intended.

After a few more minutes of perplexed silence between them, it was Mabel who eventually—and hesitantly—spoke up with a: “You…don’t know what you look like?”

Hmm, an unexpected question to follow the unexpected responses. And a stupid one at that; did she really expect him to give her the honest, unfiltered truth when prompted? If she did, the answer to that question would be a resounding “It’s funny how dumb you are, Shooting Star~!”, followed by a bout of condescending laughter to drive the point home. 

And the answer to her former question would probably be that same reply and condescending laughter. There was no chance across the entire multiverse that he would tell them about his little deal with Tangy. Birdbrain had said it themselves back in their mindscape: the second they found out that he was playing a game where the prize was the destruction of the barrier, the second Ford would do everything in his power to keep him restrained until the end of the game.

Or, well—more restrained than he was already.

Still, as good as his clever little joke had been, he had unintentionally dropped a small hint to them about his situation. 

Guess it was time to do what he did best; scramble their mushy little brains more than he’d done already and throw them completely off the right track. 

“I mean—it was all kind of a blur when I possessed the guy,” he said casually, leaning back in the chair as far as he could. “Didn’t exactly feel like stopping and sussing out all the details, not when the chance to stretch my legs again after spending nine months as a lawn ornament was right there in front of me—hey, come on—”

The barrel of the gun was at his cheek again as Ford gave him another warning look. “Don’t listen to a single word he says,” he said, directing the statement at the others. “We have no reason to believe that what he’s telling us is the truth, so don’t take any stock in anything he’s saying.”

Bill narrowed his eyes up at him. Spoilsport. Spoilsport and a hypocrite, to boot! “Oh, yeah, that’s rich, Sixer,” he said bitterly. “But I guess you would know what it’s like to give people a reason not to trust you, wouldn’t you?”

His functional pupil bounced over to Stan, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile. “I’m just saying: the last time we saw each other, you were promising to finally give me that equation,” he said, with a look back to Ford. “But then when I ended up making the deal, it wasn’t your brain I ended up in, was it—OW!”

The tip of the gun was jammed so hard against his cheek that the skin would likely be bruised in the shape of a triangle later. “Stop talking—”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Before Ford could respond, Stan’s hand was back on his shoulder and gently goading him towards the door. “Ford, come on, let’s just—”

“Stan—”

“He’s tied up, Soos says the rope’s got the unicorn stuff woven into it,” Stan kept trying. “Let’s just step outside for a sec. Kids, why don’t you go with him? I’ll be with you in a few minutes, just—”

“We’re on it.”

Ford opened his mouth to protest further, but Mabel had already taken one of his hands in her own while Dipper claimed the other. “Come on, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, giving his hand an encouraging tug. “Let’s go wait in the hallway.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and leave, Sixer~?” Bill teased with a kick of his feet. “I’m sure I won’t go anywhere while you’re gone!”

A risky taunt, for sure. Ford had turned the gun on him enough times to prove that he was only a few more pokes away from throwing caution to the wind and sticking a bullet between his eyes, regardless of the consequences. Besides, the sooner Bill got the chance to be alone and collect his thoughts, the better. 

But at the same time, any opportunity to get under Ford’s skin was just too good to resist—nor did he have any desire to try resisting in the first place!

It seemed to be a lucky day for him in terms of taunt-rope balancing, because Ford pulled his hands from the kids’ embraces and trudged out of the room with calm, restrained steps. Steps clearly powered by every last ounce of self-control he could possibly muster, ones that suppressed a deep, brooding storm that swelled just beneath the surface.

Good. Seethe harder, Stanford.

Eventually the door shut behind him, leaving Stan and the kids—their own hands now void of any that possessed six fingers—behind. Although it was only a second later when the door cracked open again, and one six-fingered hand reentered their line of sight. 

A hand that Mabel immediately took hold of again before both her and Dipper hurried out into the hallway after him. Leaving only Bill, Stan, and a deafening silence left in the room.

A deafening silence that Bill was quick to break with a casual: “Gotta say, the beard look is waaaay more natural on you than it is on Sixer. Covers your ugly mug way better than his does.”

Apparently Ford had kept all of the restraint for himself because Stan was back to him before he could blink, and Bill had no time to brace himself as the older man grasped a rugged hand around his throat. “Listen to me, and listen good, Wise Guy,” he growled. “I don’t know how you got back here, and I don’t really care how.”

The hand around Bill’s neck tightened while he balled the other into a fist. “But I punched your lights out once, and I can do it again. As many times as it takes for you to stay down for good.”

He moved the first near Bill’s blinded eye, his good pupil following despite himself. “You try anything with my family again, you’re gonna know what it feels like to get punched to death twice. ¿Comprende?”

It was a threat Bill knew that Stan would hold himself to if necessary. One that Bill couldn’t help but feel a twinge of genuine fear towards as those final memories inside Stan’s head came rushing back to him. 

And for a split second, Bill could almost feel the terrifying heat of the flames around them, creeping nearer and nearer as they swallowed every last bit of the room in their destructive wake—

One fatal mistake…

—only for a brief moment, before he flashed Stan another toothy grin. “Seriously though, you should keep that beard. Maybe try and convince Sixer to shave his, I don’t know who I was kidding when I told him it looked good, that was such a bad idea on his part!”

His grin spread wider, once again revealing far too much of the inside of his mouth. “But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

Stan punched him. Hard.

And when Bill crumbled with a shout, pain enveloping the area around his right eye that was sure to be bruised within minutes, Stan turned and stormed out of the room.

Yep—flew too close to the sun with that one.

— — — — — — —

Ford had barely made it out of the room before the stress of the situation brought him to his knees, and Stan entered the hallway to the sight of almost everyone else circled around him in an attempt to bring comfort.

Seeing him, Soos lifted his head. “So, is it really him?”

“Sure looks, sounds, and acts like it,” Stan said. “Alright, so the guy who tried to take over the universe and who we thought was dead is now tied up in the next room, very much the opposite of dead.”

He pressed a weary hand to his temple as he glanced around at the rest of the group. “...Does anybody have a game plan?”

From beside Ford on the floor, Mabel perked up. “What about that zodiac prophecy thingy Grunkle Ford tried to do during Weirdmageddon?” she asked. “Didn’t he say that was supposed to stop Bill?”

“Hey, yeah!” Stan snapped his fingers with an inspired look. “Great idea, Pumpkin, we could try that!”

“But don’t we need all of the symbol-things for it to work?” Soos pointed out. “And out of the original ten, we only have, like—” He paused to count heads. “—six of the people here that we’d need.”

From the spot near the wall where Wendy had seated herself, she lifted her head to join in on the conversation. “Well, then why don’t we just get the other four?” she asked. “I doubt it’d be hard to convince Robbie, Pacifica or the others to help us out. They probably hate Bill as much as we do.”

“We could also try the Quantum Destabilizer,” Dipper added thoughtfully, pressing a hand to his chin. “Grunkle Ford said it could blast Bill back into the Nightmare Realm, but I wonder if that would actually work without a rift to—you know, blast him back through.”

“What do you think, Dr. Pines?” Melody asked, directing the question at Ford.

And suddenly all eyes were back on Ford again, who had yet to move from the spot where he had collapsed after leaving the bedroom—too enveloped in his own overwhelming, smothering thoughts to take any notice to the others’ suggestions.

Bill was alive.

A scenario he had only envisioned in the worst of the nightmares that plagued his head on a nightly basis. A fear that lingered over him like the shadow of a starving predator, waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey when they least expected.

He had wanted to hope so dearly that he’d been dreaming when that child between the birch trees began to laugh in that horrific, familiar way. The bone-chilling laughter that often echoed through the deepest recesses of his mindscape, nothing more than a mere shadow of the one who had once produced it.

But this was no dream, no nightmare, nor a bad memory he could simply banish to the back of his mind—

Bill was alive.

“Dr. Pines?”

“The Zodiac Prophecy is a no-go,” he said, his words forming on their own as he returned to his feet. “The entire town believes that Bill is dead, and letting too many people know that he’s returned could ignite a panic.” 

He cast a tense look around at everyone else. “One would argue that too many people know about his return already.”

“Hey, come on, I don’t think anyone here’s in a hurry to go blabbing about him,” Wendy pointed out. 

“Regardless, it’s not a liable option at the moment,” Ford continued. “And unfortunately, neither is the Quantum Destabilizer. The only power source stable enough to power the device was only obtainable in another dimension, with the assistance of another another dimension’s Fiddleford McGucket—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna be tough to get, then,” Melody spoke up. “Fiddleford's out of town for a few weeks with his family.”

“We had to put our weekly anime club meetings on hiatus until he got back,” Soos added sadly. “But, that gives all of us plenty of time to catch up on our latest show and discuss our thoughts once he’s back!”

Ford raised his hands. “Wait, that’s not what I—”

“Well, what about when he does get back?” Wendy asked. “I mean—like I said before, I doubt he’d be in a hurry to go blabbing to anyone else. Plus he’s probably smart enough to build anything we’d need to get rid of Bill.”

“Wait, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, good point, Wendy!” Stan said, waggling a finger at her. “The guy turned this place into a giant, robotic, triangle-punching whatchamacallit. He could definitely build some fancy-schmancy power source—”

“You’re missing the point!”

Ford’s fist hit the wall before he could even process his action, and suddenly the hallway was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. His frustration lingered for only a second, before he took a look at the concerned expressions around him—

—and the guilt swiftly drowned any other emotions that had been building inside his chest. “Sorry, that was—sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Several pairs of shoulders unclenched as his arm fell back to his side, and Stan moved to him again. “Woah, woah, hey, come on, no one here’s about to judge you for swingin’ a fist,” he assured him. “Feel like outta anyone here, you deserve to do it the most.”

He flicked a thumb back at the bedroom door. “‘Sides, at least you held out as long as you could. I may have given the little jerk a—let’s call it a ‘welcome back gift’.” 

A pause. “I…I gave him a black eye, that’s the joke I was trying to make.”

“Non-refundable gift,” Wendy said with a proud nod. “Nice.”

“Stan’s got a point,” Dipper added from Ford’s side. “It’s Bill Cipher. I feel like if anyone deserves to be angry right now, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry for uh—sorry if we sounded like we weren’t taking this seriously,” Soos added. “I know how dangerous he is, and Wendy and I even told Melody everything about him ahead of time. Just in case something like this ever happened, of course. A big bad returning during a moment of peace is a common trope in sequels, after all.”

He rolled his hands together. “And since this is the summer after he died…you know, sequel summer? Just…just sayin’, it wasn’t outta the realm of possibilities.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of it was actually true,” Melody admitted. “But also I’ve seen way weirder stuff in this town. So if you all say that kid in there’s actually an evil triangle demon bent on destroying the universe, then I’d believe it.”

“There, you see?” Stan added. “Ain’t nobody here to judge. You be as angry as you want, punch another wall or two if you really gotta.”

“Although if it helps you swing at them less, clearly we’re all on the ball when it comes to thinking of ways to put Cipher back under the ground where he belongs,” Wendy pointed out. “Maybe the stuff we already suggested won’t work, but putting our heads together like this will probably get us somewhere a lot quicker than when you were just doing this by yourself, y’know?”

“Once again, Wendy knows what’s what,” Stan agreed, and gave her a thumbs up. “If I were still your boss, I’d give you a raise.”

“...No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He reached over to clasp a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Point we’re tryin’ to make is that you’ve got your family here for you this time. You don’t have to deal with this alone again.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel agreed, casting him a weak smile as she once again tucked a hand into his own. “We’ll do everything we can to help you kick Bill’s butt again!”

Ford’s gaze fell to her face, sweet eyes wide with concern and small hands once again gripping his own tightly. He could feel them trembling, clearly masking just as much fear as he was harboring inside him—

—the same way his had trembled as he pulled the trigger on the memory gun, wiping every little trace of what made his brother himself from his mind. 

He forced his gaze to the man at his right, eyes moving up to the face that mirrored his own to a near-identical degree.

The face of the man Ford had cried over for a week straight while he worked so tirelessly, so desperately to restore those lost memories. For whom he had dug out every last movie reel, scrapbook—even old postcards that Stan had sent during his travels across the country, and with whom he had spent several long night poring over the contents. 

The man whose confused expression shifted to bright realization as the kids read out the jokes from his favorite joke book, jokes he would follow up with every terrible punchline with perfect recollection. The man who suddenly remembered his and Ford’s brush with the Jersey Devil mid-story, only to go on and tell the back half as if the two of them had only experienced it yesterday.

The man who had risked sacrificing all those precious memories, all of who he was for the sake of the world’s safety. For the sake of his family’s safety.

And now Bill was back, leaving that precious sacrifice nothing more than a pointless suffering for Stanley to have endured.

“I’ll figure out a way to stop Bill by myself,” he said suddenly, pulling his hand out of Mabel’s before turning to the others. “Someone’s going to need to stay up and keep an eye on him tonight anyway. I’ll use that time to come up with a plan, and we can reconvene tomorrow.”

He reached for the doorknob. “As for the rest of you, it’s late and you should be getting to bed.”

Everyone exchanged a series of unsure looks, which Stan vocalized with a: “Do you really expect the rest of us to just sleep while you deal with some all-powerful demon all night?”

“Also, do you really expect us to sleep at all with someone like that in the house?” Wendy added. “I mean, I know he’s kindaaaa—” She made a shrinking motion with her fingers. “—now, but this is the same guy that crawls through people’s heads like a sugar-laced kid in a Hoo-Ha Owl’s playplace, right?”

Ford looked to her, then the other adults with a raised eyebrow. “You said the rope had unicorn hair weaved into it?”

“Well, yeah,” Soos confirmed. “Plus we set up those moonstones, got you that mercury you needed—”

“We have a whole stash of everything in the storage room, too,” Melody added. “If you need any more of anything.”

“Then it should be enough to hold Bill in place for the night,” Ford said matter-of-factly. “And if it’s not—well, I’ll be enough to hold him in place for the night.”

Before anyone could question him further, the bedroom door was opened and shut behind him. Leaving the rest of them out in the hallway, the shrill and barely-muffled greeting of “Welcome back, Fordsy~!” in the bedroom only adding to the unsure aura surrounding them.

Despite the door being closed, Soos held up a hand to the side of his mouth. “Uh, okay! Good night, Dr. Pines!” he called. “Also if you’ve gotta shoot him, please aim the bullets away from Abuelita’s porcelain doll collection!”

Mabel finally let her arm—the one that she had kept outstretched even after Ford let go of her hand—fall back to her side with a dejected sigh. A look that Dipper immediately spotted and moved to her side to comfort her. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said reassuringly. “Ford’s just worried about Bill, that’s all. And he probably just wants us to stay safe.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to go around makin’ himself unsafe to do that,” Stan said, pressing a hand to his head with an annoyed huff. “Is he out of his mind? What’s he thinking, dealing with all of this by himself?”

Everyone else exchanged a look. “Well, if he doesn’t want our help then…what should we do now?” Melody asked.

With a sigh, Wendy took a wide step away from the wall. “Guess we do what the doc said and try to get some sleep. Dibs on the couch as usual, by the way.”

With that, the shuffled on down the hallway, while the rest of the group silently watched her take her leave. Once she disappeared around the corner, Soos pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Uh, I dunno if it’ll help at all, but Melody and I sleep in the room next to Abuelita’s,” he said to Stan. “If you want, we can sleep in shifts and check in on Dr. Pines for you.”

“And if anything actually happens, one of us can come get you,” Melody added. “Leaving the other person down here to help him if he needs it.”

“Yeah!” Soos said, nodding in agreement. “If anything happens, we’ll come get you, okay?”

Stan hesitated to respond—as if the idea was anything but okay to him—but eventually he gave them a tired nod in return. “Alright, you two. Just keep an ear out for him.” 

He leaned over and placed a hand on Soos’s shoulder. “And—should I not get here quick enough to do it myself—I give you my blessing to punch the pointy little jerk in my place.”

With a look of honor, Soos pressed a hand to his forehead in a salute. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Pines! I’ll even knock out a few of his teeth if I’ve gotta!”

“Good man, Soos,” Stan said, giving his shoulder a pat. “Now get.”

With Stan’s approval, Soos gestured for Melody to follow him to their bedroom. “I’ll be the one to come get you if we need to, then,” she assured Stan as they walked. “That’ll leave Soos open for—well, that.”

And soon their bedroom door closed behind them, leaving nobody but the remaining Pines in the hallway. And with a gruff sigh and the realization that they were the only ones left, Stan turned to face the kids.

Despite the reassurances from everyone else—and even each other—they had shuffled close to one another with their attention firmly locked on to the door of Abuelita’s bedroom. As if they expected Bill to come bursting out of it at any second.

Yep, that was about what he expected.

Another sigh brought Stan to their level, and he gave both of them a weak smile. “Well, you two knuckleheads heard everyone. Let’s head upstairs.”

The two exchanged an uncertain look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah,” Mabel added. “I mean…it’s Bill.”

“If Ford’s so insistent on dealing with this by himself, then he’s probably got a couple of tricks up his sleeve to solve it by himself,” Stan pointed out, and reached over to lightly bap the top of Dipper’s hat. “It’s like you said, he probably just wants us to stay safe. And if he does need our help, then—well, he knows where to find us...”

Even he couldn’t bring himself to try and sound convincing by the end of his reassurances, but he gave both of them a nudge to move forwards before returning to full height. “In the meantime, let’s not give that demon the satisfaction of knowing he’s freaking all of us out and go get some rest, okay?”

After another look to each other, the younger twins eventually let themselves be lead down the hallway. Despite this, Stan counted at least three times where one of them would pause to look back towards the bedroom door, before they finally rounded the hallway corner and the room was barred from their line of sight.

The interior of the Mystery Shack had fallen silent by that point, save for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath their steps as they headed for and—after grabbing the bags they had dropped upon arrival—up the staircases that eventually brought them to the topmost floor of the shack.

Mere hours ago, the sight of the old attic would’ve been a nostalgic welcome back, like greeting an old friend after spending so long apart. And approaching the room at the far end would’ve been the equivalent of bringing that old friend into a warm hug.

Warm, friendly, welcoming—

But the air around the trio just felt so miserable as they slowed to a gradual stop outside the bedroom door, and Stan reached a hand to the doorknob. Rather than turn it immediately, he instead chose to direct his attention back at the kids. 

Silent attention—as if he wanted to say something, but struggled to find the proper words.

After a few, long seconds, he spoke with an uneasy: “Hey, uh, if you kids need to—you know…” The hand on the doorknob moved to the back of his head. “You gonna be alright by yourselves up here? You know you can always join Wendy in the living room, or come bunk down with me if you really need to, or something—”

The younger twins looked to each other in silent consideration, until Dipper finally spoke up: “I…think we’ll be okay,” he said, although his shaky tone implied otherwise. “If we’re really that scared, we can always sleep in shifts.”

“Yeah,” Mabel added with a bit more optimism. “And—and we’ll lock our door and window—”

An oink at the staircase drew a pointed finger from her, aimed at the pig who had ambled up the stairs after them. “—and we also have Waddles as an attack hog if we really need him! We’ll be okay!”

Her shoulders fell. “Right?”

Dipper folded his arms with a feeble nod, hands tightly gripping the sides as if he were attempting to keep himself grounded with such an action. “Yeah, we’ll…we’ll be okay.”

Stan didn’t miss this, and knelt down in front of them. “Hey, you two listen to me, alright?” he said, moving a hand to each of their shoulders. “I may not know how the little demon got back or why he’s back at all.”

The hands moved to ruffle their heads. “But what I do know is that I ain’t gonna let him lay a hand on either of you or Ford,” he reassured them. “And I don’t care how long it takes or how many times we gotta kill him before he stays dead. We’ll squash him for good if it’s the last thing we do—”

He was suddenly cut off by Mabel flinging herself at him in a tight hug, with Dipper quickly following suit. Stan remained still for a few seconds, before he wrapped an arm around each of them to complete the hug. “Alright…we’re gonna be okay, okay?”

He forced a smile as the two of them broke the hug. “And hey, look on the bright side,” he continued. “With the puny size he is now, we could probably just step on the little jerk and actually squash him to death!”

Sure enough, his weak attempt to lighten the mood brought a small pair of smiles to their faces. “We could get a pair of really big shoes,” Mabel added, smile widening further as she made a stomping motion with her foot. “Just go squish, like he’s a gross cockroach under a boot!”

“Are you implying that he’s not a gross cockroach already?” Dipper asked with a weak laugh.

“Touché, but I like painting a clear, visual picture of my words,” Mabel explained. “It’s almost as fun as painting an actual picture! Ooh, I wonder if I should paint an actual picture of Bill with a cockroach body—?”

“Save that for tomorrow,” Stan said. “Right now, you two need to get some rest. You’ve got a whole summer to look forward to, and I ain’t gonna let you kids miss a second of it.”

He gave them a wink. “Even with a sudden triangle-shaped cockroach thrown into the mix.”

Both gave him a smile—much wider than before—in return before finally shuffling to the door and pulled it open, revealing the waiting bedroom on the other side.

Aside from a lack of almost any dust on the furniture—had that been Soos and Melody’s doing?—the bedroom had remained mostly untouched since the previous summer. A few scattered googly eyes rested on the floor beside a forgotten food bowl for Waddles on Mabel’s side of the room, while several crumpled pieces of paper still filled Dipper’s old wastebasket.

And while uncertainty and fear still lingered in the air as the kids stepped inside, a bit of that old, nostalgic warmth did seem to be sneaking its way around them in a reassuring embrace. A reassurance that despite the evening’s stress, this was still a place they could call a home away from home.

After one last little smile at Stan—one he returned in full—Mabel shut the door behind them. Stan continued to wordlessly stare at the door for a few minutes, attention focused on the clicking of the lock, then the creaking of the wooden floor on the other side. When he was sure the sound had reached their beds, he finally turned and shuffled back towards—then down—the staircase, continuing onwards down the hall on the second floor until he reached the door to his own bedroom.

It was only once his hand touched the doorknob that his entire posture sank from exhaustion.

He once again lingered for a moment as he looked back towards the staircase that lead downstairs—before he shook his head and trudged on forward into the bedroom.

— — — — — — — — 

It was barely an hour later when Stan firmly concluded that he was not falling asleep anytime soon.

How in the heck was he supposed to sleep at a time like this? Bill was back! The evil triangle demon that had tried to take over the town—town? Universe? Dimension? Eh, all of the above.—and had haunted his brother’s mind for literal decades!

Ford had always downplayed how much weight Bill truly held over his mind, always reassuring Stan that he was fine whenever the topic came up in conversation and was always quick to change the subject to something unrelated. 

But if Ford really thought the guy who slept in the same cabin as him for months on end wouldn’t notice him crying out in his sleep—the names Bill, Cipher or both being shouted into his pillow with so much hatred and fear more times than Stan could count—then Stan had a bridge to sell him.

And if he really thought that he hadn’t picked up on the subtle little ways Ford would flinch or the way his mood would shift on occasion—probably due to some unearthed memories about Bill, ones that Stan so desperately wished he could just punch as hard as the guy who had burned them into his brother’s mind—then Stan had two bridges to sell him.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

With a grunt, Stan rolled over onto his back and squinted blindly at the ceiling. He didn’t trust the pointy little jerk as far as he could throw him but he’d raised a good point. What right did he have to stand—lie around and call Ford an idiot for not wanting to talk about Bill, especially when he’d been the one in charge of getting rid of Bill in the first place?

He felt his thoughts drift to the earlier events of the day, before all the Bill stuff had started. Soos’s wedding announcement, the tour of the new exhibits—

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford. So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines. You and the kids, of course.”

It didn’t bother him. 

Really, it didn’t.

So what if Soos wanted to give Ford the credit for tying the knot with the girl he liked, or for giving them the smart-guy science methods to make the exhibits more exciting? Even if Ford was terrible at hiding his Bill feelings, at the very least he’d seemed pretty flattered by all the praise. 

He’d felt appreciated, nostalgic over the new, science-y ways that Soos and Melody were bringing in customers. The kids were excited to be spending time with him this year.

Ford felt like he belonged.

What kind of jerk would Stan be to take that happiness away from him, especially after all the years that had been taken from him already?

At at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if people slapped Ford’s name over every single one of his own accomplishments. Honestly, after stealing his identity for three decades, Stan would willingly give up a few of his own accord if it made Ford happy.

If Soos wanted to give Ford credit for building the place that inevitably lead him to his fiancé—even if Stan had been the one running the place when Soos started working here—then fine. If him and the kids wanted to give Ford credit for the exhibit ideas—exhibits that were wildly improved from the two-bit slop Stan had been pushing for the past few decades—then fine.

It was fine.

But if there was one accomplishment that Stan thought nobody could take away from him, it was the ability to keep his family safe. Not just them, but Soos, Wendy—the entire town. They had all called him a hero, finally saw him as someone worth a darn—

At the end of the day, he had finally proven he was worth something to someone.

And then Bill came back, alive and unharmed. Stan had failed to kill him good and proper, and now he was back. Now he was back, and now Ford and the kids had to spend their summer in fear.

Now he was back, and Stan was truly worthless again.

After staring at the ceiling for about ten more minutes—and waiting another ten minutes for his nightly body aches to settle—he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And with the groan of a man whose bones were older than he was, he pulled himself to his feet, trudged out of the room and headed down to the first floor of the shack. 

The light of the TV stopped him at the living room doorway, and a quick peek into the room revealed that he wasn’t the only resident of the house who was still awake.

Despite the TV running some early morning infomercial for a cheap and useless product—one worth more than its share of that hyper-specific brand of scorn and mockery that only a snarky teenager could provide—Wendy’s attention was firmly glued to her phone as she tapped away at the keys.

At the sight of Stan in the doorway, however, she lifted her head with a curious look. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Whaddaya mean? Clearly I’m sleepwalkin’.”

“Haha,” she said, snapping her phone shut. “Gonna try again with Dr. Pines?”

“You know it,” Stan said, and placed a hand on the doorway frame. “You, uh—you holdin’ up okay out here?”

“Psh, don’t even start,” Wendy said, waving him away. “I mean, sure, I’ve got my share of worries about that little megalomaniac being back—”

She flashed him a grin. “—buuuut I think a lot of ‘em were pretty evened out by the fact that I got to clunk him in the back of the head with a bat!”

“Oh yeah, that was great,” Stan agreed with a smirk of his own, before pressing his hands together in a squishing motion. “Isn’t it soooo satisfying? The little jerk talks suuuuuuch a big game, but you hit him once and he crunches like a soda can.”

Wendy cackled at that, although her expression fell again as she cast a glance upwards. “How’re the squirts handling it?”

Stan followed her gaze up to the ceiling. “Well, they’ve stayed in their room so far, so my money’s on ‘probably as well as they can with somethin’ like this.’”

“Mmm…”

She flipped her phone back open, fingers once again tapping at the keys. “At least they’ve got each other through all this,” she mused. “The two of them combined are some of the toughest and strongest kids I’ve ever met. No matter what happens, they’ll get through it so long as they stick together.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, with a glance back towards the hallway. “At least they’ve got that goin’ for them…”

Both fell silent for a moment, before Stan turned to leave. “If you hear any yellin’ going on down the hall, it’s because I’m trying to convince Ford to go to bed,” he told her. “If I succeed, make sure he actually goes up to bed, okay?”

“You got it, boss.”

— — — — — — — —

The room was silent, save for the scratching of pencil to paper as Ford continued to write. 

Not for a lack of trying on Bill’s part; he had made several attempts to strike up a conversation with Ford already, but all had been shot down by either a menacing glare or the flash of the gun he kept within reaching distance.

And while neither were enough to completely shut Bill up, he did fall silent after the dozenth-or-so attempt to take advantage of the chance to gather his thoughts.

He’d agreed to play a game with that stupid duck and they’d plunked him back down in front of the shack. He assumed it had been right in front of the shack, at least; he did recall being greeted by the concerned faces of Mabel and Ford, along with some faint, blurry remarks about how he’d potentially fallen out of a tree—

—thank you, Birdbrain—

—but there was always a chance that they had stumbled across his body somewhere else and simply brought him to the shack to keep a closer eye on him. 

Regardless of how it had happened or wherever those suckers had originally found him, he was back in town as Tangy had promised. Sure, it had been a sneaky drop off with several details of what that drop off entailed omitted. But at the same time, they had still kept their word.

And while Bill still had plans to dunk that silly little windbreaker of theirs in tuna fish—perhaps with the added flair of tossing in a bottle of itching powder, Melt-Your-Skin-Clean-Off-Your-Bones-Juice, and maybe a splash of lime for taste—he could at least respect how much effort they had put into getting him here at all.

Planned retribution aside…eh, game could recognize game.

And speaking of game—

His thoughts shifted to the deal they had agreed upon, sealed with both a handshake and a signature. Three months, they’d said. He had exactly three months to play. Three months to find all the pieces of their dumb trinket and put it all back together again, Humpty-Dumpty style.

He briefly considered the idea of not playing their game at all—out of sheer spite for their deviousness in getting him here—but the idea was discarded as quickly as it formed. Despite their underhanded methods to get him back to town, they had been very clear about how strictly they had to stick to their contract. And even if they’d been lying about the legitimacy of said contract, they had still foolishly locked themselves into a deal with Bill himself.

Whether or not they truly planned on upholding themselves to their side of their deal didn’t matter—if he won their little game, Bill would either have a destroyed barrier or a duck subjected to an eternity of slow-roasting over an over fire in the Nightmare Realm. Maybe in the case of the second option, such torture directed at another being would be enough to get his buddies off his back when he returned. Heck, maybe he’d even get a spiffy new jacket out of the deal!

And that was simply the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, the barrier would be gone and no one would be able to stand in his way ever again.

And a prize that valuable was enough for him to humor the tacky idiot and romp around an annoyingly-familiar hick town in a meatsuit for a summer.

Even with his current situation, escaping wouldn’t be a difficult task to accomplish. Sure, he was tied so tightly to a chair that it would make Harry Houdini blush—he would know, he dabbled in a bit of dealmaking with the famous magician back during the height of his career—and the ropes apparently contained some of that fancy-schmancy unicorn magic that the household had used to protect the shack last year. A fact that soured Bill’s expression for a brief moment, but at the end of the day, even a magically-laced rope was still just a rope. And any rope could be cut with the right tool, or by the right sucker.

The sound of paper being ripped from a notebook distracted Bill from his thoughts, and a mischievous grin poked at the corners of his mouth as he cast a look in the direction of his six-fingered warden—just as the discarded page was crumpled into a ball and tossed it into the unlit fireplace.

Well, a sucker by any other year was just as gullible—or whatever.

Sure, Bill knew Stanford Pines would rather chew off his own extra fingers than be unpromptedly helpful to him in any way, shape or form. But even if a few details about the bigger picture had to be omitted—it wouldn’t be the first time when it came to Stanford—there were always ways for Bill to get people to do what he wanted.

The scratching of pencil to paper began again, and Bill lightly tugged against the binds that held his wrists. Well, while there were always ways to get people to do what he wanted, even he knew it was highly unlikely that he’d manage to trick Ford into freeing him tonight. And the near-silence of the room was starting to become agonizingly dull. 

To reiterate an earlier point, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter. Even if Ford was attempting to keep a lid on things now, there was always a way to annoy him into tossing out a few bits and pieces of information he had gathered in Bill’s absence. Perhaps some of that information would be of use to him.

Or maybe he would only succeed in getting the gun shoved in his cheek again.

Either way, the fifteenth attempt at starting a conversation was always the charm~!

“You know,” he began with a light kick of his feet. “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions about how I got back yet.”

He saw Ford’s hand twitch in the direction of the gun, keeping his attention still firmly focused on his writing. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to, Fordsy!” Bill continued. “You and I both know for a fact that you’re a man beckoned by the call of the strange and bizarre.”

He winked at him with his good eye. “And let’s not kid ourselves; I’m the strangest and bizarre-est guy you know~!”

Another kick of his feet, his feet bouncing against the chair legs. “Even if I no longer have access to your mind, I can tell you’ve got a billion questions about me buzzing around in that lump of wet meat you call a brain,” he continued. “Questions like ‘How did he get back?’ ‘Why is he human now?’ ‘Why, oh, why did I think that a simple memory gun would be enough to defeat someone as powerful, as amazing, as unstoppable as Bill Cipher?’”

Ford’s hand inched closer to the gun as Bill kept talking: “You must’ve felt so proud of yourself for that memory gun trick, by the way,” he went on. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, it was a smart move that only a brainiac like you could’ve drummed up in the short time you had.”

A wink. “Well, lucky for you I’m not the kinda triangle to hold a grudge,” he continued. “In fact, I’d even be willing to answer a couple of those hypothetical questions for you! And to call us even, you can always just answer a couple of mine in return. Like what you’ve been up to in the past nine months~! Come on, I’ll bet you’re just dying to tell me all about how you grew that beard of yours!”

The hand wrapped around the grip, and Bill settled lower in the chair with a sigh. “Fine, I guess it was too much to hope for a chance to catch up with an old friend,” he said with a dramatic flair to his tone—

—one that immediately shifted into something far more malevolent. “But then again, I guess I wouldn’t find any of those around here, now would I?”

Bill paused, giving Ford him a few seconds to chime in—only to roll his eyes when he heard a click from the gun as Ford turned off the safety catch: “Oh, come on, Stanford, are you really telling me that you’d rather spend the entire night alone with your thoughts than to spend five minutes holding a conversation with me?”

“Yes.”

It was the first word, sans any threats, he’d managed to get out of Ford all night, and it was annoying enough for Bill to sink further against his restraints with a huff.

Not a defeated huff; if a stubborn, old fool not giving him what he wanted was enough to stop Bill Cipher, then he wouldn’t be Bill Cipher. If he’d possessed enough patience to wait eons for a functioning portal, then he could certainly possess enough to get a few words outta Ford over the course of a single evening.

And as soon as Ford stopped being so difficult—you couldn’t avoid talking all night, Sixer—he'd be in business.

The distant sound of floorboards creaking somewhere on the other side of the shack perked Bill up again with a look towards the ceiling. Guess the rest of the household was fighting back the urge to sleep with a stick.

The sudden lack of pencil to paper also caught his attention, gaze bouncing back to where Ford was seated. He hadn’t moved, but Bill could still see the pupils of his sunken-in eyes shift towards the door with mild curiosity.

Mild curiosity that vanished the second he realized Bill was watching him, and his focus immediately returning to his notes after clicking the safety back and leaving the gun where it rested.

Hmm.

“Fine, you don’t wanna talk about what you’ve been up to for the past few months?” he tried again. “Fair enough, I really didn’t wanna hear about it. Why don’t we talk about about something else, then? Like the kids, perhaps?”

The hand was back at the gun without pause. 

“They’re looking well, older even. Or do they?—I’m still fuzzy on the details of the aging process of you mortals,” Bill continued. “Or if you don’t wanna talk about them, we could always talk about your brother. Can’t believe he’s still wildly swinging those fists around like a wild animal, especially when that didn’t even work the first time—”

The gun was ignored completely as Ford crossed the room in an instant, the vitriol behind his eyes hot enough to burn straight through Bill’s skin, blood, skull—everything, until it bore a hole right through to the other side of his head. A motion that made Bill jump against his better judgment—his blackened eye instinctively twitching as he remembered Stan’s earlier show of force—and for a fleeting moment, he expected another hand around his throat in seconds.

Before Ford could react proper, however, a loud knock pulled both of their attention to the bedroom door. After a silent breath of relief, Bill shot Ford a cheeky grin. “Sounds like you’ve got company~! Unless they’re here to see me, which—I mean, who could blame them if they were?”

Ford glared at him before turning back to the door. “Who is it?”

“Jersey Devil. Who d’you think it is?”

“...Come on in.”

The knob turned and Stan slowly entered the room, casting a silent look between the two of them before settling his gaze on Ford. “Just checkin’ in. How’s, uh—” he began, then paused. “—how’s everything going?”

He was clearly talking to Ford, and making an obvious effort to ignore the triangle-shaped elephant in the room. So naturally, Bill had to do everything in his power to make his presence as loud and obvious as possible.

“Everything’s peachy~!” he piped up, with another wiggle against his binds. “Ol’ Fordsy and I are having the time of our lives catching up on things! In fact, I think he was just about to tell me about what the kids have been up to for the past few months?”

He flashed Ford a wide grin. “Come on, Ford, I’ll bet they’ve shared a ton of stories with you~!”

Stan pointed a finger at him. “Hey, you’d better watch that mouth of yours, before I come over there and make it match your eyeball.”

“What, you’re gonna punch it?” Bill asked. “Go right ahead, I was just lamenting the fact that my mouth and eyeball are separated in this body.”

He giggled mischievously and flashed him a wide grin. “Your fist’s about the size of a mouth-sized eyeball, right? Just asking, because the second you swing it at these puppies—” He gave a warning snap of his teeth. “—I can’t promise that you’ll get it back.”

“Everything’s fine, Stanley. Go get some sleep.”

Ford’s tone was so scripted and hollow, like the words he actually wanted to say were being held back by a metric ton of steel. More than just the physical steel plate installed in his head, a whole dam of metaphorical steel was keeping the flood of Ford’s true thoughts at bay. And judging by the way Stan’s features twisted with uncertainty at his brother’s words—only until he spotted Bill eyeing him and promptly shifted his expression into a look of disdain—there was clearly something keeping his own thoughts hidden as well.

Oh, it killed Bill to not know what they were thinking. To lack the ability to act as the metaphorical wrecking ball that could smash through all that steel in an instant, leaving him free to pry open every last little thought, rivet by rivet, bolt by bolt.

Well, at least he still possessed the ability to verbally taunt them~! “You heard the big guy, Goldfish~! Why don’t you run on back to bed while the adults talk?”

“Why you little—” Stan began, then paused with a look of confusion. “Goldfish, what—”

“Your sign in the Zodiac Wheel,” Bill elaborated. “You know—that little goldfish thing on your hat! Although I guess it could also be a reference to your constant desperation for fortune and fame, combined with your childish dream of dragging Sixer off on some ridiculous, insignificant boat adventure. You know, first part’s the gold, second part’s the fish?”

He tilted his head. “Of course, I could always call you Fez instead, but that just sounds silly. It’d be like calling Question Mark Shirt or Pine Tree…I dunno, Other Hat? Hmm, kinda like that, actually.”

“...Welp, that one’s on me for asking,” Stan said, and promptly turned his attention back to Ford. “I did need you for something, though. Apparently Soos found a few more moonstones that he said we should lay out in the hall—”

“Well, feel free to lay them there,” Ford said, making his way back to his chair. “One at each corner, evenly spaced…Probably a smart idea to stick one at the end of the hallway for good measure—”

“I really think we need your help with it,” Stan urged.

“Not if you follow my instructions.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot as far up his forehead as they could get, expression lighting up with sadistic glee. Oh, oh—they were fighting~! “Aww, I’m back for five minutes and you two are already at each other’s throats again!” he said with a mirthy twinkle in his eye. “Man, even after all this time, you Pines Twins still can’t get along!”

He began to rock back and forth in the chair with delight. “Come on, punch each other in the face!” he demanded excitedly. “Give Sixer a black eye that looks worse than mine!”

He stopped rocking for a moment, and cast a look down at the chair. “Hmm, I forgot that you mortals haven’t evolved to the point where you can hear the voices of inanimate objects,” he said. “Such a shame that I can’t hear how much this chair is screaming while I rock around on it!”

With a cackle, he proceeded to rock back and forth even harder. “Hehe, I’ll bet the four-legged jerk's absolutely livid right now—ACK!”

The chair suddenly tipped over and crashed—Bill and all—to the floor with a loud clatter. With his limbs too restrained to catch himself in any dignified fashion, Bill quickly found himself with his face squished into the lavender rug near Abuelita’s bed. 

Both Ford and Stan stared at him for a moment, their disagreement temporarily forgotten at Bill’s misfortune. However, Stan snapped back to reality first and took advantage of the other two being distracted long enough to pull Ford towards the door and out into the hallway.

Bill barely had time to bark out an irritated: “Hey, get back here and pick me up!” before the door was pulled shut behind them. With a irritable huff, he attempted to rock the chair again in the hopes of adjusting to a more comfortable angle.

And after a moment of struggling, he finally succeeded in rolling the chair onto its—and by extension, his—back. Leaving him completely flat on the floor with his gaze pointed upwards at the ceiling.

Well, at least this angle was more familiar.

— — — — — — —

“Stanley, I said—”

“I know what you said,” Stan replied, closing the door shut behind them. “But you know I’m gonna try and make you sleep tonight, right?”

“And you know I’m not going to do that, right?”

“Ford—”

“How on Earth am I supposed to sleep with Bill still alive?!” 

It was like something had finally crashed right on through whatever wall Ford had built up in his mind, the stress he had tried desperately to repress all evening spilling out of him in an instant. “The memory gun should’ve worked,” he muttered in a panicked tone. “It…it destroyed everything in your mind, right?”

“Well, yeah, everything—” Stan began. “But—”

“There had to have been something he did, something that protected him,” Ford rambled on, mostly to himself. “Was it a spell? Some kind of failsafe? Did he catch onto our plan—”

“Woah, woah, hey, just breathe for a sec,” Stan interrupted. “Yeah, this is exactly why you’ve gotta let someone else babysit the little jerk while you get some sleep. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re too tired to think straight.”

And maybe if Ford got some sleep, he could shift some of the burden to Stan’s shoulders where it belonged. Yeesh, the poor guy had really been holding back earlier. Had he really been this stressed all evening?

…As if Stan needed to ask.

“You’d be surprised at what I can accomplish during an all-nighter,” Ford assured him. “Back in my college days, I once started a twenty-thousand-word essay at ten in the evening, and had it on the professor’s desk by six the next morning.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. “And when you first arrived here to help me hide the journals, I was starting my fourth consecutive day of staying awake.”

“Fourth?!” Stan sputtered in disbelief, before he shook his head. “No, no, just gonna ignore that for now—it’s not like I got any room to talk when it comes to bad sleep schedules. But also you are not staying up four days to deal with this by yourself.”

He reached over to place a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Come on, Stanford, let me help you,” he urged. “At least go get an hour of sleep. I’ll stay down here, keep him quiet—heck, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut if he gets too mouthy with me.”

He balled his free hand into a fist and thumped it against his own chest. “Let me help you put that pointy jerk twenty feet back under the ground, and make it stick this time!”

Ford’s eyes fell to the hand on his shoulder and followed it up to the desperation in his brother’s features.

An expression near identical to the one he had worn after being blasted by the memory gun. Confusion mixed with a desire to understand…

It was like they were back in that clearing in the woods, the natural warmth of the sun draping itself back over the town, after the blood-red skies of Weirdmageddon had barred it from sight for so long. Stanley kneeling in front of him and the kids in a dazed trance, no recollection of whom he was or the sacrifices he had just made.

All of which he had assured Ford was worth the risk while they swapped clothes back in the Fearamid, beneath the wretched tapestries of the remaining Zodiac members, an ear perked on both ends for Bill’s thundering footsteps reapproaching the main room.

But had it been? Had it been worth the risk?

Up until Mabel’s scrapbook method, they had no way of knowing that Stanley would’ve been able to return to his usual self. And as far as they knew, that cure only worked when presented with the memory gun’s effects. What if Stanley got involved again, only for something worse to happen to him than lost memories? What if he couldn’t simply be scrapbooked and home movie’d back to his usual self again this time around?

What if—

“Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Stanley,” Ford said, and turned back to the door. “You go get some sleep.”

“Wh—Ford!”

His brother’s name fell on deaf ears as Ford promptly open and shut the door behind him. Stan continued to stare at the closed door, too dumbfounded to properly react. 

Ford really didn’t want his help with Bill? He could understand sending everyone off to bed earlier, but he was still turning down his help when it was just the two of them?

He raised a hand to the doorknob, the temptation to try and properly sway Ford into letting him help rising in his chest—

“Mr. Pines?”

Stan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice from the other bedroom in the hallway, and he turned to see Soos standing in the doorway. “Everything alright? …I don’t have to punch anyone yet, do I?”

With an exhale, Stan forced his hand back to his side again. “Yeesh, Soos, don’t sneak up on me like that or I’m gonna be the one who starts swinging. But nah, everything’s fine. Just thought I check in on Ford, is all.”

“Alright,” Soos said with a small smile as he held up a fist of his own. “But I swear, I will throw a punch if I need to! I made a promise, after all.”

He paused, and switched the fist to another hand. “Although maybe I should use this hand,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t wanna accidentally break my Shack-Brochure-and-Fanfic-Writing hand on his face, you know what I mean?”

He swapped back to the first. “Although it’s probably better to use your dominant hand to punch—”

“Go to bed, Soos.”

“You got it, Mr. Pines!”

He shut the door, leaving Stan once again by himself in the quiet hallway.

Stan cast a look back to the door in front of him, his hand moving towards the doorknob again.

The same way it had when Ford had called him to the shack all those years ago, eyes bloodshot and features sunken from a lack of sleep—four days, Ford?!—and he’d showed up without a second thought to help.

Despite all the time they had spent apart, Ford had relied on him enough to seek out his help. Despite everything, Stan had still held some worth in his brother’s eyes.

And how had Stan proven that worth to his brother?

By tossing him through some massive, otherworldly portal for thirty years, stealing his identity, and ruining his life.

By getting huffy over a simple thank you and nearly dooming the entire universe.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

By not doing the one thing that had actually granted him worth, and killing that stupid demon proper.

He slammed his hand back down to his side again in a balled fist, and headed back down the hallway.

Forget it, he’d try again tomorrow.

— — — — — — —

“So, how’d the fight go~?”

Not even Bill’s shrill tauntings could pull Ford out of his determined state as he returned to his chair and notebook, the tip of his pencil once again dancing across the paper with incredible speed.

From the floor where he’d fallen earlier, Bill cast him a sour look. “Oh, real mature, Sixer. You’re really not going to pick me up?”

Ford’s hand clenched tighter around the pencil as he went to scratch out his latest idea—one that joined the dozen other scribbled-out ideas above it—before moving down to the next empty row on the paper and starting again—

“Uh, hello? Stanford? I’m talking to you!”

Talk then, you vile little demon.

The tip of the pencil snapped and Ford was unable to bite back his frustrated grunt of surprise. Right on cue, a cackle started from the floor as he reached for a pencil sharpener. “Hehe, I heard that~!” Bill chimed in a singsong voice. “Guess we know who lost the fight, eh, Grumpypants~?”

Ford paid him no mind as he quickly sharpened the pencil back into a point and returned to his work with that fierce determination from before.

No matter how many scribbled-out ideas he had to toss into the fireplace, he was going to find a solution to this problem.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much he had to verbally endure at Bill’s hand again—

—he would make certain that his brother’s sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.

“...Okay, seriously, are you going to leave me down here all night?”

— — — — — — — —

Mabel couldn’t sleep.

Ever since she’d settled into bed—a snoozing Waddles curled up at her side—her eyes had stayed glued to the ceiling. At first she’d tried distracting herself by holding mental conversations with the mold spots permanently stained into the old wood, but not even Daryl could lift her spirits at a time like this.

Every few minutes, her gaze would move to the bed across the room, a question lingering on her tongue for a moment before she returned her attention to the ceiling.

It was around midnight before she finally vocalized her lingering question with a quiet: “You awake, Dipper?”

Her answer immediately came in the form of blankets shuffling as Dipper rolled over to face her. “Of course I am.”

She rolled over to face him proper as well, both pairs of eyes shifting to the triangular window of their room. The moon hung high in the night sky, its beams of light shining through the glass and illuminating the floor in a way that would normally be comforting.

Tonight, however, the sight of an eye-shaped object through the triangular frame was just a painful reminder of what waited for them just a few rooms below.

“I can’t believe he’s back…”

Dipper turned his gaze from the moonlight and back to his sister at the sound of her voice. “Did you see Grunkle Ford?” she asked quietly. “He was so scared…”

“I don’t blame him,” Dipper admitted, placing a hand to his forehead. “We went through all of that trouble to kill Bill, and it didn’t even work.”

He slid the hand down to cover his eyes, but immediately lifted it again to peek over at her. “Hey, you saw it, right? How much he looked like me…”

There was more shuffling—this time on Mabel’s end—as she sat up in bed completely. “It was like when I saw him during the puppet show,” she said, pulling her legs to her chest. “Except the hair and eyes were different this time around. His left eye wasn’t all—”

She covered her own left eye with one hand. “His hair color’s different this time, too. I wonder why?”

“Who knows?” Dipper said with a shrug. “Although I guess meeting—or re-meeting a guy who looks like me isn’t the weirdest thing to happen in this town, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mabel agreed. “Still…why’d it have to be that guy? Why does he have to ruin everything?”

A sad hum escaped her as she hugged her knees close. “So much for getting to spend more time with Grunkle Ford this summer…”

Dipper let his arm fall before he sat up in bed. “Hey, come on, you really think it’s gonna take all summer for Grunkle Ford to get rid of Bill?” he asked. “He’s spent the last thirty years traversing the Multiverse! He’s explored more dimensions than we could probably even think of on our own—dimensions where everyone lives underwater, dimensions ruled by talking robotic octopi—”

When Mabel plopped sadly back against her pillow again, Dipper paused for a moment to think. “—dimension where the air is made of cotton candy instead of oxygen?”

As he’d expected, the concept twitched the corners of her mouth with mild amusement. “Ugh, I’ll bet that dimension is soooo tasty,” she said. “I wonder what they do when it rains, though? All the cotton candy would just melt and then they’d have no air—ooh, I’ll bet they have like, a ga-ZILLION of those cotton candy-making machines ready for when that happens!”

“Anything’s possible in the Multiverse,” Dipper said with a nod. “My point is that Grunkle Ford’s been around, and he’s probably picked up a lot of different ways to get rid of Bill! Even if the methods he’s tried already didn’t work—and even if we can’t use stuff like the Zodiac or his Quantum Destabilizer—I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And if none of those work, we could always come up with some ideas for him! Like—like—”

She flumped her arms across her blanket with an exasperated huff. “Well, I’m too tired to think of anything now, but I’m sure we could think of something!” she said, scrunching her face in concentration. “What if we…I dunno—”

“Oooh!” Dipper snapped his fingers with inspiration. “What if we got one of those time travel devices, strapped one to Bill, and then rocketed him to a date so far into the future that he’d never be able to get back to our time?”

Mabel pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but her amusement faded almost immediately. “Nah, that wouldn’t work. He could always trick and possess someone super far in the future, and they could help him get back here,” she pointed out. “Like what he did with that Blendin guy, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…”

The two fell silent again, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle summer wind rustling the forest outside their window. “We should probably sleep for real,” Dipper finally said. “We can just…do what we told Grunkle Stan we were going to do and take shifts, right?”

“Well then, you sleep first,” Mabel said, once again in an upright position as she reached over to pull Waddles close to her. “And like I said I was gonna do, I’ll let Waddles stay on your side and be your guard hog while you sleep.”

Waddles followed up her remark with a groggy little oink of reassurance, and Dipper let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and what’s he gonna do if Bill pops up in my dream?”

“I mean, you can always dream up a dream Waddles to eat him,” Mabel suggested. “He looks like a corn chip, right? I’ll bet dream corn chips taste just as good as real ones!”

She plapped a hand against the top of Waddles’ head. “Plus then when you wake up, you’ll have the real Waddles right there to comfort you!”

This got a full-on laugh out of Dipper. “Alright, alright, point made. Send him over.”

Mabel leaned over the side of the bed and gently set Waddles to the floor, giving his little rump an encouraging pat. “Go on, boy! Go protect Dipper from the dream nacho!”

With another tired little oink, he ambled on over to Dipper’s side of the bedroom and oinked up at him for assistance. “Go ahead and set an alarm on your phone, Mabel,” Dipper said, and reached down to pull him up onto his bed. “What should we set it to? An hour? Hour-and-a-half?”

“An hour works for me,” Mabel said. “But if you don’t actually sleep for that hour, I will not hesitate to stay up longer out of spite!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping…”

Dipper settled back down under the covers while Waddles snuggled up next to him, and it wasn’t until Mabel heard Dipper’s light snoring that she finally dared to tear her gaze from him and reach for her phone.

That was good. At the very least, he’d be getting some sleep tonight.

She looked to the window again—the moonlight still faintly illuminating the darkened room—and crawled out of bed to stare outside properly. Despite the tall trees that surrounded the shack on all sides, there was little to block the ocean of stars that painted the night sky.

After staring for a bit, she turned and crawled back into her bed. With another look at her brother to make sure he was still asleep, she dug her hand between the mattress and wall, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips in determination as she fumbled around for the unseen object she sought so desperately.

She knew it was a longshot that it would’ve remained in the same place for nine months—given the dustless state of their room, Soos would’ve been the most likely candidate to find it if he searched-slash-cleaned hard enough—but eventually her fingers brushed against something and she pulled it out to investigate.

It was an old, dusty piece of paper, the same one she had crumpled and tucked in its hiding spot almost a full year ago. The edges were frayed and torn and the tint of the paper was a sicklier yellow than she remembered—but the jagged writing on the front was still just as legible as the day she’d found it in Stan’s car:

“Note to self: Possessing people is hilarious! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on—burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy that journal, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale—by throwing it off the water tower! Best of all, people will just think Pine Tree lost his mind, and his mental form will wander in the mindscape forever. Want to join him, Shooting Star?”

Mabel stared hard at the paper for what felt like an hour—although in reality, it was probably no longer than a few minutes. She read and reread several times over, every cruel word like a knife to her vision and gut, before finally crumpling the paper in an angry fist and shoving it back down between the wall and her mattress where it belonged.

She settled back against her pillow again, and turned back to Dipper’s bed. Still fast asleep, with nothing more than the occasional twitch or shift in place.

He was sleeping, supposedly without nightmares. That was all that mattered.

She continued to stare at him until the sight made her drowsy, before turning her attention back to the various mold spots on the ceiling.

Daryl was going to have to work overtime tonight if he really wanted to lift her spirits.

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Mermay 06: Blood

Mer AU I have stollen adopted from @horseyneigh2002

Out of order Valen stuff still, this is muuuuch farther in the timeline. after he's adopted the weirdest little mer like creature he's ever seen.

[prompt 05] [main list]

...xXxXxXxXx...

“Pup!” the deep voice of the open water mer cut through most of the storm waters. He was swimming against his own instincts it felt like, skimming far too close to the shoreline, and even Valen was struggling against the surge of the waves.

The full storm had not yet hit the shore, and he could already smell and taste distress in the waters. That distinct scent of sea-magic seal-blood too had him worried as the big mer called out again. He had left his charge in the shallow bay while hunting for a proper meal, now just faint traces of blood- no bodies of seals or humans though, as Valen tracked back and forth. 

He found the skin first, Valen felt a shivering, cold twist of fear as he picked up the seal skin out of the water. Bringing it close he sniffed and then licked it, definitely smelled and tasted like seal and magics. But also fresh blood.

“Pup! Where are you?!” Valen called as he turned in the water, then lifted up to ride a wave’s crest, trying to use his long distance voice even above the surface. The wind and rain interfering with-

There! 

It was just slightly off of a vibration, something that did not match the surface storm water. Then a nearly missed voice in the darkening waters.

“Valen! Help!” 

The giant, seal skin in hand, dove and followed the sound, finding a blood trail. Faint and new in the waters and he found a little human like form clinging to a bit of drifting debris.

Valen came up behind her, wrapping the ‘human’ up in his hands and pulled away from the debris. At the same time offering her the needed skin, and watched to be sure his newest pup was wrapping up in it. Using her learning magic to shift shapes. 

The dunkleosteus merman held up the gasping seal, “Take a deep breath, pup, we’re going to dive.”

There was a frightened bark from who he held, but the little harbor seal was catching her breath. 

“Just like when you practiced your magic for deeper dives… deep breaths.” Valen encouraged, feeling it in his whole body as the storm was pressing down on them. He glanced up, sinking into the water and dove, switching back to the mer speech as his gill flared. “That’s it, follow my wake, pup, we’re going to a storm den.”

The not-really seal shivered in the water, still very cold but did not try to do anything other than staying close to Valen. Her water slicked fur brushing against his back as they dove together. Below the storm surges finally, Valen was keeping a mental timer as he shifted to let the little seal grab at his back and short hair. 

Valen could still smell the scent of blood, and was looking for…

There, a glow of a wraith crystal, leading to a semi hidden tunnel he was just barely able to fit into. Valen nudged his charge ahead of him, working through the passage after and into a mostly still pool with glowing plants and algae up the walls. He rolled into the surface, reaching to pick up the seal as she coughed and gasped the surprisingly warm, clean air. Still very breathable, but Valen had the seal in his hands as he looked her over. 

“You’re bleeding, where?” Valen asked, feeling the stress as he back hit the shallows of the pool. He watched the little shape shifter change, from seal to human and was shivering with cold and fright. 

Cassidy gasped and rolled into the supporting large hands, lifting her leg to show the left one with a cut on it. “I was tr-ying to get… safe… I hi...hit that buoy... ”

The still human sized selkie was turned, cupped between Valen’s hands as he sat up in the shallowed. More used to low light he focused on the cut with his good eye, lifting the girl up he hunched over. Not meaning to loom but with the size difference he was.

Valen flexed his jaws, focusing to get that one spot in his mouth to excrete a gel like fluid. Despite the size difference, Cassidy could not be even five feet tall, she watched as the mer was almost grooming. The young selkie pup sagged as the gel nubbed the pain in her leg. The gel would thicken like a second skin for while, and numbed out the pain while getting the cut to heal faster than normal. 

“How did you lose your skin pup?” Valen frowned as he sat up, the human formed girl curled up on his chest now. “You’re still cold…”

“I don’t knooow,” Cassidy whined, she did not even remember shifting shape really, until she was paddling around on the surface. She tucked up against the warmer body holding her, wanting to warm up but even as a seal it was like she could not get warm. She felt the grooming lick to her back, and did not mind this time as the giant sighed around her. “What…what is this place?”

“A storm den.” Valen explanced, satisfied only after making sure the selkie girl was no longer bleeding from any scrap. He had her cleaned and just needed to be warmed up now. Settling in the shallows but keeping the pup in the warmer air. “Many were made for mers of smaller sizes than me, the air will stay clear and fresh. The old wraiths of the sea made the crystals for those that still need to breathe air. It will be safe here for us, for you.”

The selkie girl shifted and pressed tighter to the old mer’s chest. “I’m cold.”

Valen folded both hands over his newest charge, settling to have a good cuddle with the little pup sized girl. “You’ll warm up here, just give it a few minutes.”

[mamawasatesttube]

🛼- describe your latest wip with 5 emojis

🥤- recommended an author or fanfic you love

🍄- share a headcanon for one of your favorite ships or pairings

🪐- name three good things going on in your life right now

📚- whats the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

🔪- whats the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

🥐- name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

Get well soon!!! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

🛼- describe your latest wip with 5 emojis

👶🌀⏲️🦸⁉️

🥤- recommended an author or fanfic you love

this hades thanzag fic is very fun to me i love a plotty slow burn ♥

🍄- share a headcanon for one of your favorite ships or pairings

tim, stupid and bisexual and in love with kon but confused about it bc he's stupid and also still closeted, and very out of the loop post rr09, comes back to the titans once his life has settled down a bit more, and realizes that something must have happened between kon and cassie while he was away, because whereas last he knew they'd just broken up and things were kind of awkward, now they keep giggling at each other and playfighting in midair and showing each other dumb memes on their phones.

he watches kon set a freshly-baked pie on the cooling rack, only for cassie to pop up from behind the counter and yoink it, clearly with the intent of just making kon chase her around the titans tower common room. kon successfully liberates his pie ("with the handy-dandy, ever-versatile power of tactile telekinesis--ow! cass!") and triumphantly returns it to the kitchen; a few minutes later, he cuts a slice, then calls cassie over to feed her the first bite. (and then to smear whipped cream on her nose as a surprise attack. his revenge for her act of theft.)

and witnessing all this, tim thinks to himself, ah. they must have talked out whatever made them break up, and gotten back together. they haven't been so comfortable around each other in years, by the looks of it; they're making each other laugh like they did when they were 16, before they ever got together in the first place.

well, tim thinks, i should be happy for them. i love them both. i want them to be happy. i should be happy. i will Make Myself be happy for them. if there's a bitter or jealous little stone in the pit of my stomach no there isn't. what do i have to be jealous about? i'm not in love with cassie or anything. that would be stupid.

(the kon-shaped elephant in the room stares at him. he avoids eye contact.)

what has actually happened: cassie very nervously approached kon and admitted she thinks she might. uhm. prefer. girls? and kon was like oh thank god i'm pretty sure i'm gay holy shit. and then they both did the spiderman pointing meme in shock and delight and then grabbed each other by the hand and went skipping through a field of daisies together. "huh they seem way more at ease in each others presence than they ever did while they were dating before" yeah there's a reason for that, timothy. you fool. you buffoon.

anyways tim's misconception doesn't last long (he mentions it to them once, earnestly, and they both stare at him like ????? no????? ?? ???? ? ?? ???? ? ??) but it is funny. after all this he Still hasn't figured out he's in love with kon.

🪐- name three good things going on in your life right now

answered here!

📚- whats the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

my plans for my 90s kon week fics :3c

🔪- whats the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

answered here!

🥐- name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

this video gets me every time. i like to imagine it as tim kon and bart (tim is the guy in the tire)

[mushiewrites]

Say Aaaah!

so about a year ago, @fluffallamaful + I talked about one of the weirdest ideas I think I've ever brainrotted. we told @wishitweresummer, and since then, she has been begging me to write it. and now here we are, a year later and deep into lee!George week, and I decided to finally write the idea for her! this is 100% for summer, and I'm so excited for everyone to read the silliest and most ridiculous fic I've ever written! (and thank you to @awkwardtickleetoo for helping me with the title and reading it as always)

don't forget to check out this tag to see all of the amazing additions to lee!GeorgeSummer, and you can find out more about the prompts in this post!

anyway, enjoy Day 6 of lee!George week! :3

(lee!George / ler!Sapnap / ler!Dream : 4.2K words)

“George, you’ve been here for like, two years now, right?” 

The question cut through the quiet atmosphere of the living room, only being previously filled by random videos that Dream and George kept showing each other as they sat practically in each other’s laps on the L-shaped couch. George turned his attention to Sapnap, who was sitting on the opposite side of the couch with Patches propped up against his thigh, his hand dragging lightly over her head as she purred happily. 

“Yeah, you know this…why? You want me to go back already?” George huffed out a laugh, raising an eyebrow as Sapnap snorted at his question. 

“Well yes, but that’s not what I was gonna say.” 

“Okay, then what?” George asked suspiciously, never fully trusting Sapnap when he’s asking for information. There was always an underlying purpose, never questioning things just for the hell of it. George knew he had some kind of angle behind his curiosity, he just didn’t know where Sapnap was going with it. 

“You haven’t been to any doctors since you’ve been here, have you?” Sapnap leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his fingers together, careful not to disturb Patches as he did so.

“Wait, really?” Dream questioned from beside him, watching as George shrugged at the two with little care.

“Yeah, I guess I haven’t,” George looked between the two, confused at the way they were both staring at him. “What’s the big deal? I’m fine, there hasn’t been anything wrong.” 

“Well yeah, but normally you’re supposed to go for a check-up at least once a year to make sure everything is working okay.” Dream commented, turning his body towards Sapnap as he turned to him for validation in his words.

“Mhm! Or…at least to the dentist for a cleaning, you know?” Sapnap added, nodding his head to let Dream know he agreed. Dream nodded along with Sapnap, looking to George to see if he was even still paying attention. To his surprise he was, nodding slightly before looking down at his own hands, playing with his fingers as a distraction. 

“I guess so, but like, it’s fine! I don’t need to go right now,” George continued to fidget with his fingers, waiting for one of the other two to speak, but he was met with a silence that felt too awkward for him to not continue. “I mean, if somethings wrong I’ll go, but like…it’s fine for now. Let’s just drop it.” 

“George,” He heard Dream start, almost wincing at how gentle his voice was. “You aren’t scared of the doctors, are you?” George stayed quiet, refusing to make eye contact with either of them as he kept his mouth shut in a tight line. After a few more seconds of silence, Sapnap cackled from across the room. 

“Are you serious?! Georgie is scared of the big bad doctor? Of the mean, evil dentist? No way!” 

“Sapnap-” Dream tried to stop the teasing before it went any further, but Sapnap continued to yell out comments in disbelief. 

“This is too good! Little baby George is scawed!” Sapnap fell back into the couch, his arms crossing over his stomach as he did and scaring Patches in the process. She jumped down onto the floor, quickly sprinting out of the room as Sapnap’s laugh grew louder. George rolled his eyes at the sound, letting out an annoyed grunt as he too flopped back against the couch cushions. Dream reached a hand out and placed it gently on his knee, rubbing his thumb soothingly as he looked down at him. 

“It’s okay, George, don’t listen to him. Everyone’s scared of something.” George rolled his eyes again at how supportive Dream was, almost more annoyed with him just accepting that George was scared of something so silly. 

“I’m not scared!” He exclaimed suddenly, standing up from the couch and pacing around the living room with a hand flinging roughly through his hair. He turned towards Sapnap, throwing his arms up in the air as he shrugged. “It's just…I get nervous going to new people, okay? It’s just like, an anxiety thing, I don’t know! But I’m not! Scared!”

Dream stood up and walked to where George was standing, placing his hands on either shoulder and leading George back to the couch to sit down. George was blushing profusely, embarrassed at the way the conversation was going as Sapnap continued to laugh and make snide comments about how scared he was. While he was deep in thought, Sapnap suddenly gasped, shooting up to a standing position and marching himself over to where George was sitting on the edge of the couch. 

“Wait. I have an amazing idea.” 

“Oh no.” George sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his hands, shaking his head in disapproval as he waited for Sapnap to continue. It was clear Sapnap was waiting for someone to ask, but George wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“What?” Dream pressed further for him, equally as curious as George was.

“So, it’s kind of like-” Sapnap began, suddenly grabbing onto George’s arms and pulling him from the couch. He wrestled the older boy onto the floor, giggling maniacally as it took virtually no effort to take him down. George let out a shriek as Sapnap got him onto his back, straddling his waist quickly and pressing his wrists into the carpet below him. 

“Get off me, idiot!” George choked out, trying to fling himself forward as he kicked his feet against the ground. Sapnap continued to laugh at his struggle, shaking his head as he kept George down easily. 

“George, we’re gonna help you get over your fears! We’re gonna play doctor!” Sapnap exclaimed, looking up at Dream and giggling when he was met with a bright smile. George let out a strained grunt as he tried to buck his hips up, gaining leverage as he pressed his heels into the carpet to assist in his efforts. It failed, naturally, and Sapnap laughed in his face at his pathetic attempt.

“Stohop!” George couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, letting his head fall back against the carpet with a hard thud. He pulled his arms as much as he could, continuing to kick and push up with his legs to try and buck Sapnap off, but he was getting nowhere.

“Dream, I’m gonna need a hand holding down our patient, here. He’s very nervous and needs all the help he can get to make sure he’s relaxed!” Sapnap spoke over George’s protests, giggling as he thrashed around on the carpet like a fish out of water.

“Sure thing, doctor!” Dream responded as a soldier would, giving Sapnap a quick salute with his hand to his forehead before jumping into action. Before George could process what was happening, Sapnap’s weight was replaced with Dream’s, effectively halting his bottom half from squirming. He lifted himself up onto his elbows and was met with the sight of Dream’s back, staring daggers into the blonde curls through his panicked laughter as much as he could. It was then that he saw Sapnap peek around from behind Dream, clearly kneeling in front of George’s feet and giving him a wink before he hid back behind the wall that Dream’s body created between the two. He watched as Dream leaned forward, feeling a strong grip around both of his ankles that pressed them into the ground enough that he could barely wiggle them. This only intensified the building butterflies that were swirling around George’s stomach, and a new wave of nervous giggles began pouring out of him before he could hold them back. 

“S-Stop! You’re both being ridiculous!” George yelled at them both, not knowing if they were even listening over the two speaking to each other in hushed tones, careful to not let him hear what they were saying. 

“Oh wait!” Sapnap exclaimed suddenly, pouncing up from the ground and sprinting towards the steps. “I need to grab…things!” 

Dream shook his head slowly as he giggled, watching Sapnap use all fours to crawl up the steps quickly, as if he were an excited puppy going to fetch a toy. George watched Sapnap too, but kept his peripherals glued on Dream, carefully watching him to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything to catch him off guard. The two sat and listened to Sapnap rummaging through things upstairs, hearing the thud of his footsteps as he ran in and out of rooms to collect the items he was looking for. The longer it took, the more nervous George got.

“What is he even doing up there?” George mumbled quietly to himself, not expecting an answer from Dream. He was pleasantly surprised when the blonde spoke up.

“To be honest, I’m actually not sure. He didn’t tell me anything before he ran up the steps like a gremlin,” He chuckled, craning his neck to look back at George, temporarily releasing his ankles so he could shake them out if he needed to. “You doin’ okay back there?” 

“Just dandy.” George replied flatly, fighting a smile when his wording made Dream giggle. He brought both hands up to card through his hair, attempting to settle his nerves, when he heard quick footsteps approaching closer. The two turned their attention to the upstairs hallway once more, watching as Sapnap appeared at the top of the steps, not even stopping to slow his momentum as he practically flew down the steps. 

“Okay! I have my tool kit ready!” Sapnap spoke through his heavy breathing, winded from the speed he had been running around. George observed a black drawstring bag before it was quickly hidden from his view, letting out a sigh of relief when he noticed how empty it looked. He still had no clue what the two were planning, but he knew whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good. 

“So change of plans,” He leaned to the side so George could see him once he knelt down onto the ground again, smirking wickedly as he spoke. “I couldn’t find anything that really screamed out ‘doctor’ to me-“ 

“Good.” George interrupted, earning a hard flick to the side of his right ankle before they were engulfed in large hands once more. Dream pushed them down with a little more pressure, leaning more of his weight into the hold to assure George wouldn’t budge.

“Buuuuut, I did find things to make us dentists!” He exclaimed happily, watching as George’s expression dropped and eyes widened. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” George let his head thump back against the carpet, bringing the heels of his hands up to rub harshly at his eyes when Sapnap snuck back around to hide in front of Dream. 

“Nope! This is no joke, Georgie. We’re gonna help you face your fears!” Sapnap replied as he emptied the contents of the bag, a few things clanging together as he did so. George heard Dream gasp quietly and watched his shoulders scrunch up, seeing his bouncy curls move from side to side as Dream silently reprimanded the younger boy.

“What? What is it?!” George blurted out in a panic at Dream’s reaction, his stomach doing somersaults at all the possibilities of what Sapnap could’ve put in the so called “tool kit”. 

“Nothing to be afraid of!” Dream quickly assured him, hearing the frantic tone of George’s voice and wanting to comfort him before his mind could run rampant. 

“Well…” George heard Sapnap scoff quietly, sending his thoughts spiraling once again. 

“Wh- HEY!” George squealed when he felt a finger flick the bottom of his socked foot, moving to pull it away. He felt a deep dread spread throughout his body when he realized that his feet wouldn’t budge at all, and panicked giggles began to flow from him before he was even touched again. 

“Gosh, you are nervy, aren’t you, kitten?” Sapnap wondered out loud, tracing his pointer finger down both feet slowly to make George squirm. He applied more pressure as he traced back up to his toes, pinching each one lightly and smirking when George hollered out at the feeling.

“Plehease! Don’t do this!” He pleaded with the two, but was met with no response. George jolted his body upwards when Sapnap added a finger to each foot, now tracing up and down with two fingers and using more of his nails on the down strokes to make George’s laughter jump in pitch.

“It’s okay, we’re just helping!” Dream tried to comfort him through his squeals, giggling himself when Sapnap’s fingers traced under George’s toes, making him shriek. Just when it was starting to become bearable, his stomach dropped when he felt a finger dip into the top of each sock, slowly prying them off. 

“NO! Nononono, no! Please! Plehehease don’t!” George begged, curling his toes to try and grip onto the fabric of his socks as they were pulled off at an agonizingly slow pace. He could feel the air hit his heels, then his arches, and finally over the pads of his feet. George panicked, sitting up and gripping onto Dream’s sides, kneading into them like his life depended on it.

“GEORGE!” Dream cried out, letting go of his ankles in favor of gripping George’s wrists, pulling them away from his body as he caught his breath from the sudden tickle attack. Sapnap appeared next to George, taking his wrists from Dream so he could go back to securing his ankles before he caused too much of a mess. 

“Tsk tsk tsk. Naughty boy,” Sapnap shook his head in disappointment, pushing George’s hands against his own chest to make him fall back against the carpet before pressing them down against the ground on either side of his hips. “Dream, lift your shins for me, will you?” Dream looked back at Sapnap with slight confusion, leaning forward a bit more until he was able to angle his shins up off the ground. When Sapnap placed George’s hands directly under them, Dream suddenly understood. He dropped his legs quickly, making sure to sit back on his shins to keep George’s wrists secure. 

“This isn’t fair! Stohohop!” George whined as Sapnap crawled back in front of his feet, disappearing behind Dream once again. “Come on! I told you, I’m not scared! We don’t have to dohoho this!” His pleas were ignored, and the plan continued. 

“So what do we have here, mister dentist?” Dream asked Sapnap playfully, looking down at the tools displayed between George’s spread ankles. 

“Well, first, let’s get a good look at these teeth!” Sapnap responded with the same amount of enthusiasm, quickly ripping off George’s socks and flinging them behind him somewhere across the room. George immediately curled his toes when he felt the air hit them, high pitched giggles bubbling out of him as he tried to control his reactions. He felt Sapnap pinch each one again, this time wiggling them as he went and making George squeak every time his nail scraped the pads of them.

“Plehehease! This is soho dumb!” George pulled at his arms, trying to yank them free, but Dream’s weight kept them pressed into the floor. Frustratingly, all he could really do was twist his upper body and move his head; not nearly enough give to expel any of his anxiety. 

“Hm…seems like they’re in good shape. Could use a cleaning though.” He heard Dream comment, making his stomach flip as his brain tried to figure out what they could possibly do to him. 

“Great idea, my beautiful assistant!” George could hear the smile in his voice, squeezing his eyes shut at how excited he sounded. Suddenly he heard a click, followed by a loud buzzing, and he immediately knew what it was. He curled his toes even tighter as he began spurting out pleas, saying anything to get their attention to make them stop. Sapnap peaked over Dream’s shoulder and gave George a wink before going back to work, bringing the toothbrush down closer to the practically immobile feet in front of him.

“The patient seems ready for the cleaning, so we’re going to proceed!” 

George let out a blood curdling scream when a vibrating toothbrush touched down on both of his pinky toes, not expecting two of them at the same time and sending him into a frenzy. He squeezed his eyes shut as his head flung back, cackling as Sapnap moved the brushes over to the next toe on each foot. Despite curling them as hard as he could, Sapnap managed to wedge them under his toes anyway, making sure to get the tops and the bottoms of each toe as he went. 

“FUHUCK, PLEHEASE!” George managed to cry out between his panic, shaking his head back and forth as he laughed himself silly. Sapnap didn’t respond, simply commenting on how clean his ‘teeth’ looked as he made his way over George’s middle toe on either foot. The toothbrushes moved to the second toes and George screeched, high pitched and loud, begging them to stop, to not go to his big toes, that he’d do anything they wanted as long as they left them alone. But to his dismay, Sapnap moved the dreaded toothbrushes over each big toe, swirling them in slow circles and sending George into hysterics.

“Holy shit.” Dream spoke lowly as he watched the torture Sapnap was forcing George to endure. Sapnap looked up at Dream and chuckled when he noticed the faint blush appearing on his cheeks, and Dream huffed in annoyance at the smirk he received in response. 

“Almost done with the cleaning! Just a little more, I promise!” Sapnap peeked around Dream again, taking in George’s panicked thrashing and screams at the simple tickling on the tiny toes. He leaned back to sit on his shins as he turned the toothbrushes off, allowing George a moment to collect himself and steady his breathing. 

“P-Plehehease…” George was delirious with laughter at this point, still in near hysterics even though the tickling had stopped. Sapnap rubbed his thumbs over the tingly toes, making sure to rub with enough pressure to help rub the ghost tickles away. Once George’s laughter had settled down to quiet giggles, Sapnap let his fingers wander, gently pressing them in the spaces between his toes. George let out a squawk at the feeling, and immediately he was begging again.

“NONONO nohoho! No more! Nohoho more!” George pleaded, trying to bend his knees under Dream to knock him off and whining through his laughter when he didn’t budge at all. He was yanking at his arms so hard he thought he might dislocate them, and he cursed both boys for keeping him down like this while they played with him like a doll. 

“I’m just checking for cavities! Hold still!” Sapnap explained, using one hand to steady George’s left foot as he pushed his finger between each toe, twisting it as he did. George was beside himself with laughter, feeling tears well as Sapnap continued his search for whatever he was looking for. He finished with the left foot, skittering fingers over the top of it to make George squeal. 

“Okay, that one looks great! Now we have to check the other one, and then we’re all done!” Sapnap reassured George, gripping the right foot the same way he did the left, shoving his finger between the last two toes and giggling when George let out a squeak in response. It went smoothly between the next two toes, and the next, until Sapnap shoved his finger between the first and second toes. He stopped twisting his fingers, and instead used both hands to spread them apart. 

“STOP!” George shrieked out in embarrassment, knowing how intensely Sapnap and Dream must be looking at his foot right now. The two laughed at his outburst, but changed nothing about what they were doing. 

“No can do, Georgie,” Sapnap pretended to speak with fake sympathy, sighing before he continued. “I’m afraid we’ve found a cavity.” The comment sent George into a further panic, now struggling even harder than before, nearly lifting Dream with the ticklish adrenaline that was coursing through him. 

“What do we do for that, mister dentist?” Dream asked over George’s screaming, looking back briefly to see how hard he was blushing. He knew this kind of play always got to George, never knowing how to handle all the attention. 

“Well, there’s really only one thing we can do,” Sapnap explained, rustling around with something that George couldn’t see. “We have to floss.” 

“WHAT?!” 

Before George could question any further, he felt Sapnap weaving something between all of the toes on his right foot, even between the toes that Sapnap deemed to be okay not even a moment before. The feeling of whatever the weird string was just sitting between them was enough to make George laugh even harder, not being used to having something in such a sensitive area. George was babbling out pleas but nothing was coherent. His words were slurred together through his laughter despite him trying to articulate the best he could. Sapnap and Dream only laughed at him before turning back to the task at hand. 

“Don’t worry, patient! Your cavity will be fixed soon enough!” Dream called over his shoulder, not even sure if George was able to hear him, but deciding to continue playing his role anyway. George didn’t respond, not sure he was even able if he wanted. When he was finally getting used to the sensation, his whole body shook with ticklish electricity as the material started to move.

“NAHAHAHA!” George was full on screaming through his hysterics, taking in quick gulps of air as his lungs harshly pushed out laugh after laugh. He was lightheaded; so much so, it was as if he would float away. George continued to shake, squirming back and forth on the carpet at the overwhelming ticklish feeling. Sapnap continued to saw the material back and forth between his toes, laughing along at how insane George’s reactions were. Neither boy had ever heard George laugh this hard or loud, and they exchanged surprised glances every few seconds, especially whenever a new noise or high pitched squeak would present itself through the hysterics. 

“Almost done, it’ll be over soon, George!” Dream assured him as he continued to struggle, his throat becoming more and more dry the harder he laughed. George eventually fell silent, only producing high pitched squeals and squeaks whenever he was able to get a full breath in. His face was burning, his cheeks bright red with tears covering them from how hard he was laughing. After a few seconds, the feeling finally stopped, and Sapnap quickly removed the tickly material from between George’s toes to finally relieve him of the torture.

“Plehehease!” George was unable to stop the word from tumbling out despite the tickling having stopped, completely out of his mind at the intense tickling feeling he just endured. Dream sat forward to free George’s wrists and moved his hands from George’s ankles to his feet, opting to rub over his toes as Sapnap began to put the items back into the bag. Dream continued to rub soothingly over both feet, making sure to help the ticklish feeling pass as quickly as it could.

“W-What…the fuhuhuck…was that?” George forced the question through his shallow breathing, bringing his hands up to rub his tear stained cheeks and free the stray tears that clung to his long eyelashes. He opened his eyes briefly when he felt something glide over his right hand, looking down to see Sapnap holding a long, white string.

“Shoelace!” He beamed, a huge smile spreading over his face as he showed George what he just tormented him with. George groaned through the left over giggles, covering his face in embarrassment as his mind replayed the last few minutes over and over again. Dream moved off of George’s waist, turning to face him before sitting by his side. He gently grabbed both of George’s wrists and gave them each a kiss before placing them in his lap, tracing over them to make sure they were okay after being restrained, and also from how hard George had been pulling at them. 

“You okay, baby?” Dream asked softly, letting his hands run down over George’s forearms and back up to his wrists. George closed his eyes again, turning on his side and curling his body towards Dream’s, letting his forehead connect with his thigh before nodding slowly. The blonde moved one of his hands to scratch lightly over his bicep, letting the other run through his hair to help bring him back down to reality. Sapnap pulled the string of the bag tightly, closing it and slinging it over his shoulder, getting ready to stand up from his place opposite Dream, on the other side of George. But before he could, he felt a tight grip on his wrist, keeping him down on the ground with the other two.  “So,” George began after finally getting his breathing under control, sitting up slowly and turning his attention to Sapnap. “When’s the last time you were at the dentist?”

[thebisexualdogdad]

Kate Bishop x male deadpool!reader (featuring Jeff the land shark)

● "you can't bring a shark in here!"

● "why not?! he's not dangerous he's a good boy! He's basically a dog!" you yell back at the woman scolding you

● you brought Jeff to the dog park looking to make some friends but the other park goers were not thrilled to have a land shark around their pets

● when Kate and Lucky show up Jeff is alone in the corner of the park looking sad cause none of the dogs want to play with him

● but as soon as Lucky is off his leash he runs straight to Jeff and they start playing

● "look they are best friends!" You say approaching his owner

● "um… is that a shark?" She asks

● "yep, his name is Jeff and im Y/N"

● "okay, well I'm Kate and that's Lucky the pizza dog"

● "ooh Jeff and I love pizza you want to get a slice together?"

● "well he's not the weirdest thing I've seen this week so sure"

● after letting Jeff and Lucky play together for a while you guys go get pizza

● "you look really familiar have we met before?" You ask Kate when it hits, "wait a minute… you're the new hawkeye!"

● "I know I don't exactly keep my real identity a secret but I also try not to shout it to pizzerias full of people"

● "Oh its okay, I'm Deadpool maybe you've heard of me"

● "aren't you the guy that jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge fighting taskmaster"

● "that's me! that was technically the fourth time I died and I also found out taskmaster is a really good swimmer but don't tell anyone he ended up getting away, I have a reputation to maintain"

● "you're weird… I like it"

● you and Kate become really good friends

● Jeff and Lucky have play dates all the time

● Jeff has a friend and you have an excuse to see Kate because you are not so secretly crushing on her

● teaming up on missions and being a force to be reckoned with

● between Kate's arrows and your swords the bad guys never know what to expect

● although when Yelena is in town you and her are a chaotic mess that Kate is always cleaning up after

● "guys was it really necessary to break in through the giant glass window… the door was unlocked"

● "yeah but going through the window was way more badass"

● "he's right Kate Bishop, window is way cooler than unlocked door"

● "Y/N you literally have a giant piece of glass in your neck"

● you feel the big glass shard in your neck and casually pull it out, blood spurting out "it's fine, that'll heal"

● going for long walks together with Jeff and Lucky

● everyone stares at Jeff but he just keeps walking confidently besides Lucky

● you and Kate have plenty of matching outfits for them

● you finally ask Kate out with a plater of tacos shaped in a heart

● "Kate Bishop will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

● before Kate can say anything Jeff jumps up and grabs the platter, tacos falling everywhere with Jeff and Lucky eating as many as they can

● "Jeff! Dude! Those were for Kate!"

● "Y/N, it's okay," she says laughing, "and yes I will go out on a date with you"

[bloodgulchblog]

What are the weirdest facts about Halo you know. Like just absurd stuff. I mean there’s the worm mechs but I wanna know if there’s more

ALRIGHT let's see what I can remember off the top of my head before I have to leave for the day:

Once upon a time in the most ancient space days before the Halos were fired, everyone in the galaxy thought the San'Shyuum were incredibly sexy.

A scrapped enemy from the early Halos was a gigantic, lumbering one-eyed creature that they were thinking was a whole species the Covenant weaponized. The Sharquoi would later be used as a forgotten Forerunner weapon in a novel that are hive-mind controlled from this metal crown that will dig into your brain.

It's a kind of widely known fact about them, but the Forerunners as a species reached a point where they were not considered to be actual adults until their bodies had been extensively augmented, and it was a signifier of importance and status to go through multiple mutations over the course of their lives. (Which is why they are so radically different from one another in size/shape/appearance.)

The way the Librarian found out about how the Forerunners genocided the Precursors was by traveling out to where it happened and finding a planet where there was a population of Forerunners that had been surviving without technology for tons and tons and tons of generations. (They conveyed this information to her by biting her, so that the bacteria their ancestors had genetically engineered to contain memory and information could teach her about it.)

We have one canonical example of a smart AI living for a very long time... and it's because he was actually two AIs in a trenchcoat who would switch which personality was in charge while the other one went out to live in the internet-of-things between space tractors and cropdusters for a while to recharge.

Jiralhanae smell. They communicate tons of information through scent/pheromones, and are noted to stink noticeably when they're scared.

The Unggoy are a very musical people. They have a 42-storey high building in their capital city dedicated just to the musical arts.

The way the Covenant found the mech worms in the first place was that the Lek'golo worms were eating Forerunner technology and they did not like that, but then they figured out that SOME of them would just eat AROUND the technology so they had an Arbiter negotiate with them and get them to help kill off the other kinds. Normal Covenant stuff.

Huragok are actually living tools created by the Forerunners for building and maintaining stuff. There were once some Huragok that were used by Forerunner Lifeworkers that could work with living tissue the way other Huragok work with machines, but they were all wiped out. (...One does show up in a book but shshhhh I'm trying to keep this simple.)

Ideas of the "ideal female body" humans have are based on the Librarian's appearance because she messed around with genetically implanting stuff into humans so much.

The way you euphemistically talk about Sangheili groups that let their women fight more than is conventionally allowed is you say they have a "strong protector-of-eggs tradition."

The whole splinter population of Sangheili I mentioned recently that didn't want to joint he Covenant, so they went and hid in a Forerunner structure and succeeded for several thousand years.

The planet Onyx where the Spartan-IIIs were trained was actually secretly a Forerunner shield world. Now that it's been brought back into normal space, it takes up most of that solar system. The inner surface of the sphere will take generations of work to explore because it is so large.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Decay

hello everyone we're back!!! sorry it took me so long, i had to rattle this one around in my head for a while to get it on straight (heh)

this is my first time really writing leon's perspective so i hope it sounds okay!!!! i also hope it doesn't come off too mia bashing, that's not my intention at all, i just think what with leon's past with sherry he'd have a hard time reconciling mia's choices against his own priorities etc.

also rose sweetie i'm so sorry i'm giving you so many dysfunctional adult/parental figures i swear once ethan recovers a little more he'll be the other emotionally competent person here

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: talk about infidelity, previous character death (it's ethan so he's fine now but still oof)

Pairings: mithan, lethan, winterfield

Word Count: 3799

They talked about Mia's new job, about how much they missed each other, about how proud they were of Rose. All the things normal couples would talk about. Then Ethan had sighed. "Mia," he says in a quiet voice, and Mia's mouth twitches. "Yes, Ethan?" "It's no use."

Out of all the things Leon expected from Chris’s call, suddenly being privy to what has to be the weirdest talk between husband and wife was not one of them. And yet, here he is, sitting in a sterile interrogation room with a buzzing light, a former bioterrorist, and a living mold colony assuming the shape of a former systems engineer.

Life is strange sometimes. He’s learned how to roll with the punches.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ethan had said when he came to escort him from his room—room, Chris had stressed, not a cell, even though it felt a whole lot like a cell and he’s pretty sure Ethan thought of it like that too—“I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me while I try and talk to my…ex-wife? Former wife? Widow?”

Leon had snorted. “Are you kidding me? I’m missing my favorite soap opera, the least you could do is make up for it with your familial melodrama.”

He didn’t mention that he was the only person other than Chris himself who had the required clearance to be there, and even Chris-Emotional-Constipation-Redfield knew that was a bad idea. So, here they were.

At first, it'd just been a little bit awkward, watching Ethan so visibly relax when Mia came in. Mia too—like watching a soldier reunite with his wife after a long deployment in one of those videos with a slow love song playing in the background. Only this time they couldn't touch, separated by a sheet of bullet-proof glass, and talking through phones that made everyone sound like they were doing really bad Darth Vader impressions. They talked about Mia's new job, about how much they missed each other, about how proud they were of Rose. All the things normal couples would talk about.

Then Ethan had sighed.

"Mia," he says in a quiet voice, and Mia's mouth twitches.

"Yes, Ethan?"

"It's no use."

Her brow furrows for a split second before she forces a light laugh. "What's no use?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Her hand clenches and she drops it out of sight. "I really don't, Ethan."

"Yes, you do."

What's making this so much worse is that Ethan isn't angry. Leon's gaze flicks between them as Mia clearly wrestles with the words on the tip of her tongue but Ethan's just…sitting there. Then again, the man's died, what, three times at this point? It's not that surprising that nothing fazes him, but still…

"I mean, I don't know what I'm going to tell people," Mia says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a brusque jerk of her chin, "I can't exactly explain Rose's father magically reappearing."

Ethan doesn't respond for a moment. She seems to take that as clearance to keep talking.

"I guess I could say you—woke up from a coma, or something, but everyone thinks you're dead. You've been gone for sixteen years, Ethan, it's not—it's not something we can just shrug off."

"'We?'"

"Yes, of course, 'we'," she huffs in a laugh, even as panic starts to cloud her eyes, "what are you talking about?"

Another pause. Then he sighs again. The sound rattles through the shitty phone. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"About what?"

"About me. About Rose."

Mia swallows. "Ethan, I—"

"Did you know the whole time? Ever since Dulvey? Or did you figure it out along the way and just—keep it to yourself?"

Her hand trembles slightly on the phone. She tries to force back that light expression but Leon watches it begin to crack as they both stare at her. Her gaze darts to him a few times—what the fuck does she expect him to do?

"I felt you die," she whispers and yeah, okay, even Leon's chest lurches at that, "when—when Jack killed you, I felt it. And—and everything was so blurry, so hard to see through—through Eveline's mess that I thought—I thought I might've been remembering it wrong, or something else had happened, or it was just—just another one of her mind games but—"

She chokes on a sob and Ethan's fingers twitch toward the glass, the phone pressed tightly to his ear.

"—but then you were back. And—and you were just you and I thought—I thought it'd be over."

"And Rose?" Mia nods, her eyes squeezed shut as Ethan breathes out a curse. "That's why the pregnancy was so bad, wasn't it? You were—you were trying to fight the mold?"

"Don't blame yourself," Mia's saying as soon as Ethan's sentence finishes, reaching out to put her hand on the glass. After a moment, Ethan's hand presses back. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Rose's either, she—she's beautiful. Our baby girl…"

Something in Ethan's expression twitches. His hand slowly leaves the glass. A moment later, Mia's does too. They sit there in silence for a few moments before Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose. "I wish you would've told me."

Mia scoffs. "What good would it have done?"

"I would've known." The first hint of irritation flickers behind Ethan's words and Leon has a bad feeling about how the rest of this conversation is going to go. "I could've—I could've done something."

"What could you have done? Told Chris? He'd have us locked up like this years earlier," she says, gesturing around, "and then what? Would we have taken Rose, gone on the run?"

"Mia—"

"There was nothing you could've done, Ethan," and she says it like she's trying to be kind, but Ethan's shoulders keep getting tenser and tenser.

"It's funny."

"What is?"

"That's what people said when you went missing."

Mia goes still. Leon fights the urge to shift in his chair. Yep. Bad feeling. Here we go.

"They said there wasn't anything I could've done," Ethan continues, his voice still low, "that I was beating myself up for nothing. That you were gone, there wasn't anything I could do about it, that I should go ahead and try and move on as best I could with my life. What was left of it anyway. Then I got an email from you."

"Ethan…"

"And you know what, Mia? Turns out there was something I could do. There was a whole hell of a lot I could do."

"You died, Ethan!"

"Yeah. I did. Then I came back. And I did a pretty good job about that."

More than pretty good, Leon wants to add, but he holds his tongue.

"Do you ever think about what might've happened if you just told me? Before all this had to happen?"

"I don't want to talk about this, Ethan."

"You never want to talk about it. Any of it. That's the whole goddamn problem, Mia. You were at that farm for three years. I died. And you wanted to just move on as if nothing happened. But we couldn't. I couldn't. That wasn't fair."

Mia's fist clenches. Her face twists up. Leon takes a deep breath and holds it. "You have no idea what I went through there, Ethan. No idea."

"Because you never told me! I would've been there for you—"

"You couldn't have been! You would never understand!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I was there! I got infected too—Mia, you—"

"You were never supposed to be there!"

The room rings with her panting breaths. Both of their knuckles are white around the phones.

"You were never supposed to find out," she manages, "you were—it wasn't supposed to be like this. God, Ethan, you were supposed to be safe."

An old, old anger flares in Leon's chest. He takes a deep breath, tries to swallow it, but Ethan's talking again and he frantically tunes back in.

"—think was going to happen, Mia? It wasn't just going to be that easy, something was bound to happen at some point. Did you think I—didn't you trust me?"

"Of course I trusted you, Ethan."

"Really? Because it doesn't feel like it. You kept secrets from me, big secrets, Mia, you don't do that with someone you trust."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hi, honey, no, I'm actually not babysitting this time, I'm escorting an experimental bioweapon across international waters? Don't come looking for me?'"

"Jesus Christ, Mia—"

"See? You wouldn't have understood!"

"I died for you, Mia!"

Mia's eyes widen. Ethan's chest heaves with the force of his shout. He makes himself take a deep breath and Leon forces himself to relax. Shit, this is so not his forte…

"I died for you," he says again, quieter this time. "I died and I came back for you. And I tried to be there for you, the whole time, like I was supposed to be, and you—you—"

Oh, God, no, don't let Ethan start crying. He has no idea what the fuck he's supposed to do if Ethan starts crying.

"You were my wife," and all three of them wince at the past tense, "was it so wrong for me to want you to be there for me?"

"I tried to be—"

"You didn't." Ethan doesn't even sound mad anymore, just exhausted. "You were too busy trying to keep the truth about me and Rose from me, from Chris, from everyone. Like if you pretended hard enough, everything would be okay. God, Mia, it was like—it was like you were the one who'd died."

Her face twists. "Is that why you went to Chris?"

Oh. Oh, God, oh, fuck. Give Leon an island full of bioweapons and trigger-happy mercenaries any day, do not make him deal with emotions involving Christopher fucking Redfield.

"What?"

"Don't play coy with me now, Ethan," Mia says, voice hardening, "did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"Mia, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you and Chris were acting more like the married couple by the end of things than you and I were."

Then, something truly terrifying happens: Ethan Winters laughs.

It's not humorous. It's not happy. It's bordering on manic and utterly, utterly cold in a way that feels wrong for a person so fundamentally warm and it rings in Leon's ears. Even Mia looks shaken by it.

"You think I what, seduced Chris Redfield with my tragic bioweapon ass because you and I were fighting all the time? That's what you think happened?"

"Ethan—"

"Let's get one thing crystal goddamn clear: I never cheated on you. Not when you were missing, not when we were stuck in the compound, not once in Romania or any other hell hole the two of us got shoved in. I turned to Chris because I was fucking scared, Mia, and he was supposed to be keeping us safe, not because he made me feel wanted. The only person who's made me feel wanted in the past—well, I don't know how many years it's been now, but that's Karl fucking Heisenberg and he only wanted me to get to Rose so he could use her to kill Mother Miranda. You can accuse me of a lot of things, Mia, and I'll let you, but I was never unfaithful."

"That's not what I meant, Ethan," Mia tries, but Ethan's already shaking his head.

"It's exactly what you meant, Mia. You think you're the only one who noticed things changing? You wanna know how I knew something was wrong that day? Miranda kissed me. And you hadn't wanted to touch me in months."

Leon can't stop himself from shifting. That's—holy fuck, that's sad in a whole new way. Seriously. He won't even ask for a gun, give him a knife and a virus outbreak, not—not whatever the fuck this is turning into.

Even though part of him really wants to put his hand on Ethan's shoulder right now.

"Chris was your friend," Mia says quietly—shit, he got lost in thought again— "and he was…it seemed like it was so easy for you to…to talk to him."

"I wanted to talk to you, but it…it felt like we were always fighting whenever I tried. Chris was—" he huffs— "he wasn't my friend, but he was…there."

Now both Mia's and Leon's brows twitch. "He was, Ethan, he was your friend—"

"No, no, he wasn't. He made that very clear."

Mia's gaze flicks to Leon's—he'd been half hoping they'd forgotten he was there, to be honest—and he just remembers the day he'd met Ethan Winters, before everything went to shit. Finding him alone on the mats, weeping, like he'd—

Well, like he'd just had his heart broken.

Some of that must show on his face because Mia's expression hardens with a distant anger—one he's worn himself from time to time, thank you, Chris—before it deliberately softens again. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I'm so sorry. For everything."

"I know. I'm sorry too."

She shakes her head. They sit in silence for a few more moments. "Where…where do we go from here?"

Ethan sighs. "Well, I think it's back to being poked and prodded by scientists for me. I'm not letting them take Rose away from me again."

"I don't think Chris'll let that happen."

"Yeah, let's hope so." There's a pause, then he huffs a laugh. A real one this time. "I was just thinking: Rose said once that she wouldn't let anyone try and stop us from talking 'cause I was her emotional support mold dad—"

Mia laughs at that too. Even Leon manages to crack a smile.

"—and now I'm imagining her explaining that to Chris with a straight face—"

"—and him not knowing what that means?" Mia finishes. "You know, sometimes she says things—the kids and their slang, I can't keep up anymore."

"Oh, I gave up trying. Now I just embarrass her with how bad I am at using it."

They laugh again, and Leon is going to get whiplash with how back and forth the emotions are here. Judging by the way Mia's smile is slowly growing sadder, she is too.

"How did we get here," she asks, mostly rhetorical, "how did it end up like this? We were…we were happy, weren't we?"

"We were," Ethan says, just as softly, "I was happy, Mia."

"Why can't we be happy again?"

"It's like the vows said: 'till death do us part."

Mia laughs, though it's through a sob, and Ethan does too. Now they're both just looking at each other, and then Ethan murmurs I love you, and Mia says I love you too, and—

"Alright," the BSAA guard at the door says, "that's time."

Mia stands up, smiling at Ethan, nodding at Leon, and leaves through the door. Ethan doesn't move until the door closes again, sagging in the chair with his head in his hands. Leon glances up, seeing another BSAA guard approaching their side of the door and holds up a hand. The guard pauses.

Ethan takes several deep breaths, each a little steadier than the last, before he pushes himself up with a tired smile.

"So," he says, "better than your soap opera?"

"Hell of a lot more interesting, that's for sure." He jerks his head toward the door. "You need another minute, or…?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks for being here."

Leon swallows. "No problem."

The guard steps away as soon as they're out into the hall. They walk for a few minutes before Ethan says, "Leon? Is it okay if we go outside for a second?"

"Sure. This way." They go to one of the little courtyards in the middle of the compound and Ethan immediately sits down on one of the benches, head tipped back like he hasn't seen the sun since…well, yeah, no, actually that makes sense. "You wanna just…sit here for a bit?"

"Yeah, if that's cool with you."

"I've got nowhere else to be."

And see, now, here's the problem: Leon would love to try and forget about everything he just heard. It isn't any of his business, hell, it's probably so far not his business that he shouldn't have been there in the first place, but now…now he's kind of emotionally invested.

This is why he just watches crappy soap operas that he doesn't tell anyone else about.

"What?"

"Huh?"

Ethan smiles blandly at him. "You're…kind of staring at me."

Shit. "Sorry. Just…lost in thought."

He chuckles. "You can ask if you want to."

"It's your business."

"Yeah, well, you just got a front row seat to the season three finale without being there for seasons one and two, so, you can ask." He shifts, leaning back against the bench more. "Figured it's the least I can do."

Leon frowns but puts a pin in that one. He may be slightly better at this whole having-emotions thing than Chris, but he's under no delusions that he's good at it. "How'd the two of you meet?"

Ethan lights up like it's goddamn Christmas when he tells the story and it sounds like every single rom-com in the world. Boy meets girl, they have a few sweet dates, there's a funny story here and there about office parties that don't go completely according to plan, and then they get married. Leon's chest clenches as he listens and yeah, maybe he didn't fully grasp the scope of what Chris meant when he said that Ethan was a good man, that he didn't deserve it—because no one ever deserves the type of shit Ethan's been through, but holy fuck, this man's like a goddamn golden retriever.

"Why didn't you leave?"

Shit. Way to fucking go, Kennedy.

Ethan tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

"When you got to the Baker Farm and you realized it was…"

"Fucked up?"

"Yeah."

And just like that, he deflates, something dark washing over his expression. "I couldn't. I couldn't leave, not when I knew Mia was there."

And the thing is, he gets it. He's about to tell Ethan how much he gets it when Ethan shakes his head and looks up at him with this self-deprecating smile.

"Pathetic, right?"

"You're not pathetic, Ethan. You're a damn good man."

"Careful, you say things like that too much, I might start to believe you."

See, now, that's the other thing. And judging by the way Ethan's suddenly avoiding his gaze, he's gonna guess that frown he'd tried to keep off his face made it there anyway.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's okay." He looks away, shifting to knock their legs together. "So. Karl Heisenberg, huh?"

If he was hoping for a way to break the dull mood, he failed. Miserably. "Everything in that village hated me. The lycans wanted to eat me, Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters hated me because I was a stupid manthing—" Leon tries not to snort at that— "Beneviento and Moreau were—and the Duke, I don't even know what the fuck his deal was, but he wasn't—the point is, only Heisenberg actually talked to me like a person for half a second. And as soon as I told him Rose wasn't a weapon, I was gone. It shouldn't even have meant anything, but Mia was dead—or so I thought, and Chris had been the one to shoot her and take Rose from me—and Rose was in pieces and I—"

"Hey, hey," Leon says, his hand on Ethan's shoulder before he realizes what he's doing, "hey, Ethan…"

Ethan bows his head, taking a deep breath. When he lifts his head again, his eyes are wet, and there's a lump in Leon's throat. "Is it wrong that I still love her?"

Well. Remember that shit he said about not being prepared for this?

"Sorry," he mumbles a second later, "you—you really don't have to answer that."

"How much has Chris told you about me?"

Ethan glances at him. "Not much."

"Has he ever mentioned Sherry Birkin?"

Ethan shakes his head, a furrow between his brows and suddenly Leon's telling him about Sherry. About wanting to be a cop in Raccoon City, about finding Claire—"Wait, Chris has a sister?"—and Sherry, and making a deal to keep her safe. Ethan listens, concern and sympathy engraved into his expression, reaching out to put a hand on Leon's shoulder when it takes him a second to get the words out, and he has no idea what the fuck he's doing or why he's telling Ethan this when he should be the one comforting the other man, and before he knows it he's talking to Ethan like they're old friends, and he doesn't know what's going on and all he knows is that Ethan Winters is a fucking unicorn.

"I'm sorry," he says, and there's not a trace of that weird curling in his gut that he normally gets when people tell him that, "that really sucks, buddy."

He blows out a short breath. "Yeah, I guess it does."

They sit in silence for a while. The wind is cool, not cold. The sun passes behind a few clouds and re-emerges.

"I've never told anyone all of that," he says suddenly, "not really."

"Well, I promise I'm good at keeping secrets." Leon huffs a laugh. "Hey, Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"I know this is weird, and it's—I'm not expecting you to say yes, okay, but…do you think we could be friends?"

Leon turns to look at him. Ethan just smiles back, a little awkward, but painfully earnest. He tries for a smile and finds it comes rather easily. "Yeah, Ethan. We can be friends."

That smile turns genuine so quickly it makes his head spin. He tips his head back to enjoy the sunshine again, a weight falling off his shoulders and Leon can't help but stare. In the back of his mind, he can't help but wonder what Mia Winters was thinking, even though he knows that's a dangerous road to walk down—one he's steered Chris away from a number of times too. But he looks at Ethan and all he can see is another blond trying to keep a child safe and…well, he's never been a saint.

"Ethan?"

"Yeah?"

"I won't let them take Rose away from you either."

Ethan looks at him, eyes wide, and nods. "Thank you, Leon."

He can't say much of anything else, so he just nods back. Then Ethan's looking over his shoulder like he's expecting someone to come out and sure enough, jogging over is Rose with Chris trailing behind her. Ethan stands up and catches her in an exuberant hug, spinning her around until she laughs. He catches Chris's eye over their shoulders and nods.

Fuck it. He's in.

[maxdibert]

🍄🧟‍♀️🔥

🍄 what is something that’s happened in your life that you wish you could go back and change?

I’d say nothing? I mean, some bad things have happened to me, or I’ve made shitty decisions, but I have this mindset that everything you’ve done has brought you to where you are now. And I’m in a place that I like. I don’t know what would’ve become of me or who I’d be today if I’d taken a different path or hadn’t gone through certain things, but I can’t know that, and it’s not something I obsess over because it’s impossible. Maybe I’d be the same, maybe I’d be better, or worse, because that’s kind of the theory of different timelines changing depending on whether you turned left or right, right? But since I don’t have access to the multiverse, I can’t know. For now, I’m at a point in my life where I feel content, so I wouldn’t change anything. And, anyway, one of my psychological coping mechanisms—which, in fact, my therapists have always said is very positive—is that when bad stuff happens, I rationalize things a lot and try to take away a lesson from it. So, yeah, you learn something from everything bad that happens, no matter the scars it leaves, and those scars also shape your character in the end. I don’t regret what I do; I regret what I don’t do when I want to. My leitmotif is basically to do whatever I feel like and then face the storm afterward, but never leave myself wanting to do something.

🧟‍♀️ scariest thing that’s happened to you

Men. Men and how they interact with you, how they manipulate you in a relationship, how they feel entitled to you just because you’re a woman, how they abuse you. Men, male violence, and abuse. I genuinely believe men have been the thing I’ve feared the most for a long time, in terms of relationship violence and sexual violence. Being a woman in a world built on the belief that men have rights over women is horrible, especially when you’re really young. As the years go by, you learn to defend yourself and gain tools, and the fear fades, but between 15 and your early 20s, it’s… wow. Have you ever walked home alone at night with a group of guys behind you? I can’t think of anything more terrifying.

🔥 craziest thing that’s ever happened to you

Oh, well, actually, a lot of things because almost all my friends are pretty much in need of a psychiatrist in general. And I mean that literally, everyone in my close circle has a lot of issues, so random things happen all the time. Plus, for some reason, I have a knack for attracting absurd situations, though that was more when I was wilder a few years ago. But I don’t know, I’ve had really crazy things happen, like being in the middle of a village in Romania and suddenly running into a group of people from my university class; partying in Berlin and meeting someone who had randomly dated one of my Erasmus friends that I’d met in Belgium (seriously, very random, wtf my life); or my girl friends calling me at 4 am, completely wasted, while I was also completely wasted in another part of the city, because she’d been stopped by the police for trying to steal a laptop from a nightclub and needed a lawyer lololol. Then there’s the night one of my girl friends spit in a guy’s face, and he tried to hit her, and he and his group of friends chased me and my friends (all girls), and I had to call my dad, who happened to be partying in the same area. He showed up with the weirdest people to scare them off and then invited us all for ridiculously expensive alcohol and gave us a lecture on how to defend ourselves. I don’t know, crazy things have happened to me while partying because I hang out with absurd people. And my friends (the girls) are absolutely nuts, honestly. We’ve all calmed down a bit now, but between 20 and 25, it was wild. Then there’s my dad, who is a complete mess. I’ve lived through the craziest things with him, like the time I went to dinner with him and some of his friends, and they started snorting cocaine in the middle of a family restaurant at 9 pm.; or the time we were at the social club my dad goes to, and a drunk woman showed up, claiming he had ghosted her and wanting to fight him; or when my dad still worked at the port and took me to see a shipment of clothes that had just arrived and told me to pick whatever I wanted before the port police came because, to them, stealing anything that arrived was totally normal. My dad is probably the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me, now that I think about it xD

[true-blue-sonic]

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening!!

✂️, 🦐 & 👽 for the Ask Game

Good afternoon!🍀

✂️- What was something you had to cut from your WIP?

For Run To You, I've been endlessly rewriting and cutting, haha. I have a vision, but to get to something that works and reads nicely has been quite the challenge so far! Hmm, the most readable scene that's different is Chapter 3: originally my plan was that Silver carried Sonic home and they'd be talking then, but I changed it to Sonic waking up the next morning while Silver is still asleep. I can put the OG idea under a read more ^-^

🦐- Talk about a time when you made yourself laugh or cry?

I make myself laugh a lot with writing, haha! I've got tons of little snippets and funky sentences that get a chuckle out of me. I remember for Great Days I had to laugh every time at toddler!Silver point-blank asking Espio if "he was going to die soon" because he's Old™️. Silver generally is really fun to write for, because he's so straightforward: a lot of humour in Run To You comes from him handling everything with the same seriousness and no understanding of nuances!

For something that made me cry... I've got a fic out there, Rewind, that describes a Silver coming from a timeline wherein Espio has died, and he goes to his younger self to make sure Espio will survive. I remember that made me cry while writing, and I had to cry again while I read it recently.

👽- What do you think is the weirdest thing about your WIP is?

Hmm.... Both New Beginnings and Run To You, as it is shaping up right now, have a strong focus on things that regard my own mental health and wellbeing. But for RTY, I want it to be fitting for Silver as a character: I want the development he goes through to be something that is suitable for his personality and his worries, instead of him becoming a mouthpiece for mine. So I wonder if readers will be picking up that I'm writing this story for myself in that regard first and foremost and if I am able to not make it look like that, haha!

And another thing I worry about is that Silver, especially at the start of RTY, is very gruff and a bit snippy and jerkish at times, which I fear might throw people off. It fits with his Rivals!self, but I wonder if I'm not making him too unlikeable; the idea of "But this Silver isn't that nice a person on the surface" has crossed my mind multiple times, for example. To my knowledge, readers don't have much patience for characters who are just... well, rude but still shown in a heroic light, and who have someone else around who wants to spend time with the character. Kind of the question why this person is hanging out with the rude character if the latter is so caught up in being blunt and impolite, if that makes sense. After all, Sonic's not endlessly patient either, nor does he like getting bad-mouthed: I need to show very well that he's noticed there is more to Silver than one would say at first glance. And I worry that I won't be able to convey that well, basically. I want to write a bunch of scenes that show Silver to be incredibly heroic, kind, and selfless; but what if that is not enough, and those standalone moments don't counteract his overall personality? I want Silver to develop into someone who is shown to genuinely like and enjoy Sonic's presence while being more willing to compromise and listen to others, like in his later appearances, but with Rivals!Silver as starting point, that'll simply take time. Striking a good balance between those will depend heavily on my writing skills, so I hope I can portray that well!

Anyway, here's the scene in question for the first ask! ^-^

☆☆☆☆☆

Most carefully Silver manoeuvred his way through the bushes that formed the entrance to his hideout. “We’re almost at my place,” he assured the weight of blue fur in his arms, that stirred a bit.

“Thanks,” got breathed at him, still dazed; but a little smile formed on Sonic’s face all the same.

“Anytime,” Silver hummed back. He’d never made it back to his hideout this quickly, his powers aching just a tad. “Stay,” he added in a huff as Sonic tried to push himself more upright, sparks of cyan jumping right to life all the same again to make him go limp anew in Silver’s arms. “You look really winded. Don’t push yourself.”

“I’m okay,” Sonic retorted, though his hand did shoot up to clutch his head in the way people who were okay would absolutely never do. “Ugh. I gotta hand it to Eggy: that was dicey for a moment.”

Promptly Silver’s ears pressed against his skull. Eggman; of course that man would be causing trouble left and right. “He’s not here. You’re safe,” the psychic assured him, halting in the shadows of the bushes to peek around. But nothing stirred in his hideway except for the trees, and thus he padded inside with a hum of relief. Carefully he lifted Sonic up to drop him on the hammock that sat tied between the trees’ trunks, the blanket laying on there grabbed to tuck the speedster underneath. “But he’s put you through the wringer, that’s obvious.”

“I feel like it,” got chuckled back. One hand rubbed at bleary green eyes, until they’d sharpened and homed in on Silver. “But if you’re here, and Eggman isn’t… I’m not in my era anymore, am I,” Sonic inquired slowly, and Silver shook his head.

“Nope. You’re in mine.”

“Whoa. Cool!”

“…Sure. What did Eggman do?”

With a grumble Sonic nestled his head in the thin pillow, face souring. “I was infiltrating one of his bases, and then he locked me into that room that you got me out of again. He said that he’d trap me in the dimension of time, so I’d no longer be a pain in his side. The usual.”

“Time… Right.”

“It checks out, if I’m in your era,” Sonic added, eyes already lightening again. “But hey, long time no see! How’ve you been, Silver?”

“…Fine?” Silver hummed back, surprised. What did that matter, when Sonic was clearly injured? Speaking of… “Where are you hurting?” the psychic continued, shoulders squaring up immediately.

“Mostly just my head, but that’s not weird. That’ll clear up on its own.”

“Let me at least get you a painkiller. And tea.”

Sonic had the audacity to chuckle, Silver’s pelt shooting right up. Just like Sonic, to be laughing and whooping and hollering through every serious thing life had to offer. But a “Tea sounds great,” was all he was getting presented with, and thus the psychic nodded stiffly before turning towards his campfire. With a quick flick of a lighter and some water poured in the kettle he’d have everything ready in no time…

Sonic was beholding him as he turned around again with two steaming mugs, and thus Silver narrowed his eyes right back. “I only got mint.”

“Mint is great, thanks.”

Floating over the cup so Sonic could take it Silver took to flying too, crossing his legs.  “It’s warm,” he warned, rubbing his chin.

Green eyes flicked around. “What a nice li’l place you’ve got here.”

“My hideaway,” Silver nodded proudly. “As far as I know, that man has never found it, so here it should be safe too. It’s quite sheltered.”

Sonic raised an eyebrow, but any inquiries stayed out.

☆☆☆☆☆

[hassledvania]

Someone's been writing in my diary.

22nd Nov '98

Decided that my fair project is going to be about different types of mushrooms. Mushroom are Science right? To be honest, I don't know anything about them. I just know I've seen a bunch of different ones over in the woods by school. It'll be a pain to go looking by myself, so I convinced to come help. He told me he'll help me pick few if I take him to the cinema first. He wants to see this film about bugs. I'm a little old for it so I hope none of my mates see me, but I need to go into town anyway and pick up a mushroom book (or whatever they're called), so why not.

Mum's more into the fair than I am, I'd really not bothered. But the grief she'll give me outweighs the work it'll take. So as long as I look like I'm working hard and have something on the table it should be fine. Honestly the whole day sounds like a drag, but if I power through and get... I want to say 5 types will do? I'll have the rest of the week to myself to just chill.

23rd Nov '98

Okay so that was weird.

Couldn't find the book, film was fine. Got to the woods around early sunset when the sky is lovely; all red and orange. I instantly regretted taking, he was all hyper from the film and snacks. He kept quoting the jokes we had just seen and was running between the trees with a "sword" (big stick). So instead of speeding up the legwork, I was randomly picking up stuff I didn't know the name of by myself while babysitting a kid on a sugar high. I got some white ones with circle tops and some gross layered ones sticking to the tree while looked for one's "like in Mario". For what was meant to be an easy phone-in, it was quickly becoming a right pain in my arse. I was contemplating whether a display on what bark does would work when I heard call for me from across the woods.

I must have really taken my eyes off him because he'd managed to get pretty far away. There was this little alcove hidden behind a bush you have to crawl under. Don't know what he was doing in there, I got tagged by a bunch of thistles and an errant thorny twig took my glasses off. Still, it didn't take me long to realise why he called for me.

God, how do I even explain this.

It was a little taller than I am. It was all mushy and lumpy, but also kind of like this thick froth. It's colour was somewhere between grey and purple, with masses of black clouds swimming through it.

I almost feel like the English language is letting me down here, it's really hard to get across just how... wrong this thing was. The texture was smooth and had this... bright sheen to it? You ever see old sci fi films where they'd shine a light under the cell to make special effects? Yeah, that. But the weirdest thing was how it just... hung there. It was moving upwards. It squirmed and it's mass shifted and pushed. It was definitely climbing up from the ground. But at the same time, it wasn't moving. At all. It was like I was staring at an optical allusion. A physical impossibility physically in front of me.

asked if it was a type of mushroom, he thought he had done a good job finding it. I told him I didn't think so as I leaned in for a closer looked. You couldn't tell at first, but at around an inch away you could make out hundred of these little black... hairs? They reminded me of when you get a splinter, but cast over it's entire form.

I don't know. I got this instinctual, gut feeling about it. It was wrong somehow. I kept having to tell to stay back, that it had germs. God knows if it did, but the thought of touching it put a knot in my stomach. That was when I noticed as I moved, the little hairs were moving with me. If I shift left, they went left. If I shift right, they went right. Whatever it is, it's alive. Some kind of alive.

I kept moving, watching as the little hairs tracked every move. Tattling on me to their tumorous owner. I reached the other side and that's when it's shape clicked. It was kind of cylindrical, and its mass branched off into smaller tunnels. It was like this thing was clinging to a tree. To a tree that was not there.

You ever get caught trespassing? I have once, and that general vibe was coming over me. I took and we went home with two pockets of mushrooms.

24th Nov '98

I looked at my diary this morning and remembered the thing. Which was odd. I mean, we only saw it yesterday but it feels like a really old memory. I asked if he remembers finding a weird thing in the woods yesterday. He paused for a while struggling but then said he did. Maybe the experience just took it out of both of us.

When she got back from work we told Mum about what we saw. She didn't quite seem to get it at first, I don't think I did a great job at describing it. She kept saying it was some kind of fungus or mould. It felt like I kept managing to get her to understand how... strange this thing was. But then it was like her eyes reset, and she'd go back to saying it was just a strange vegetation. was no help either, he's at the age where anything she says it pure fact no matter what he's seen.

Asked her to borrow the camera to take a picture but she said we'll have to wait till the roll is finished before we get them developed. Screw it, told to just take 15 pictures of it. We're going back tomorrow.

25th Nov '98

26th Nov '98

Why'd we go back? Why the fuck did we go back?

It's my fault, I don't know when to just leave things alone. I wanted to prove it was real. I wanted her to listen but she wouldn't.

No it's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault I brought. I thought he'd back me up.

and I went back to it. Scraped under the brush with the stickers and found it there waiting for us. I started taking pictures of every angle. I needed to show, to prove to her this thing wasn't right. I was taking pictures of the little hairs when I noticed something I hadn't before. This thing didn't smell of anything. Like, anything at all. I could still smell forest fine, but leaning in it was like I was pinching my nose shut. Not only that but even though it looked like it was moving and squirming, it didn't make any sound either. I got-

I was too focused on this that I

Oh God, I took my eyes off him. I wasn't watching him. I wasn't telling him to stay back. I heard say my name. I didn't even have a chance to reply. I barely had the chance to turn my head and see him get... taken. It was like he fell into it. Or maybe it was like he was sucked into it's folds. It was all so quick. I happened so quick. One second he was they, the next he was crumpled into it's pulsating sea.

I just froze. I don't know how long I stood there doing nothing. I did nothing. I tried to call out for him but the noise barely escaped my throat in a smothered whisper.

Then I ran. I just ran. I left him there. I was running as hard as I could, but it was like I was running in treacle. My brain was telling my legs to move but I was moving like I was in slow motion. I left him there. He sounded so worried when he said my name.

I got home and ran to Mum. I tried telling her what happened, that we needed the police or an ambulance or something. But she just stood there doing the washing up. She didn't even turn around. I said it again and still nothing. No reaction. I screamed at her to help and she finally looked at me. "Oh you're back." "Why are you so late? Been hanging out with your friends?" It was like my words were passing right through her. She was looking at me... but she wasn't looking at me.

I explained again. She smiled like I hate told a boring joke she wasn't paying attention to.

I kicked over a chair. I explained again. She smiled.

I pleaded with her. I got on my damn knees and begged her to go an help her other son.

She smiled.

"Who?"

I don't know what's happening. I don't know what is happening.

Today I tried to go back and find by myself. But somethings not right with me either. I walk to the woods. I crawl under the underbrush. Then I'm outside the woods. I know I crawl back out of the bush before reaching the other side. I know I calmly walk out of the woods and towards home. But I don't know why.

I've tried twenty goddamn times to get to that fucking alcove but I'm still here. And is still there.

I've got to calm down. I have to breath deeply. I called the police but they told me to have my Mum call to report any missing persons. I've tried so many times to talk to her. Until my throat is raw. She just smiles. Tells me that I know I'm an only child. That I've never mentioned the woods before.

I need to sleep. It feels wrong but I can't keep my eyes open any more. My body still feels stiff. Sluggish. I just need a couple of hours and I'll go back. I'm so, so sorry, I'll find you. I promise, I'll get you home. I just need to catch my breath.

27th Nov '98

Writing this in bed. My head feels weird. Not a headache, just kind of foggy. Mushy. Like a damp sponge. Keep falling asleep. Not dreaming.

I can't stop thinking about being out there. Somewhere. Is he hurt? In danger? Alone? Scared?

Mum says I'm just delirious and must have picked up a cold but I don't feel ill. More like... my batteries are low. I know I want to get out of bed but my body won't listen, it's a little scary. I keep crying and can barely wipe my face. I hope I need to feel better tomor

28th Nov '98

29th Nov '98

30th Nov '98

1st Dec '98

Over my cold, Mum says I can go back to school now. Shame, I probably could've made it to the weekend.

I think someone's trying to scare me. Found my old diary and the base of my bed - but it's got some weird entries in it?

Some kind of spooky story about some guy's brother. I think. One of my mate's must have used it. Probably thinks he's the next RL Stine.

Anyway, now I'm better I do need to decide on my project. The mushroom thing doesn't actually sound like a bad idea so I might just do that.

Will need a new disposable camera for the pics though, Mum's melted in the Sun somehow. Weird for the time of year. Maybe Global Warming? Or is it Climate Change? One of them. Honestly, who even knows what's going on out there.